I've just finished reading 1984. I loved it. It was terrifying. I've read several horror stories, but none of them was as horrifying as 1984. It's not merely a tale about totalitarianism. It's a model of a universe. Like The Dark Forest. You read it and wonder, can this be our own universe? Can it be possible? Can it be inevitable? Or were some fundamental laws of nature altered for it to be like that? It is delirious. It takes something, like power, violence, or submission, distills it to the purest, brings it to the extreme, propagates it through the backdoors of the creation.

Even if you haven't read the story, you must already know how it was culturally significant and prophetic. And it was quite popular, so I naturally thought it was a boring piece of work for the boring masses, a story in which the people rise up against tyranny, and then everyone cheers and you watch the fireworks. And maybe there's a bittersweet finale, in which the protagonist bleeds out but smiles faintly. I thought it was a pseudo-documentary, a historical novel set in the future. But it's nothing like that. It is a gruesome science fiction.

I didn't immediately grasp its true nature. As I was reading it, there were some parts that felt too naive, exaggerated, or unrealistic. Only when I was approaching the book's final chapters, it all started to feel appropriate. Or take this little quote, for example:

"Throughout recorded time, [...] there have been three kinds of people in the world, the High, the Middle, and the Low. [...] The aim of the High is to remain where they are. The aim of the Middle is to change places with the High. The aim of the Low [...] is to abolish all distinctions and create a society in which all men shall be equal."

It appears in the second half of the book. It makes your eyebrows rise. You see this old trope where "rich and powerful = bad, poor and powerless = good," this apparent candy to the average reader; you half-expect some sort of a postponed glorious revolution (or at least an attempt of one) led by the virtuous proletariat. But at this point you *still* don't understand what this book is about. But by the end of it, even this quote starts to make sense.

Read 1984 if you want something dark.

The theme for today's dreams must have been "Embarrassment."

In one of the dreams, I climbed a tall tree with light bark and no leaves. There was no snow on the ground, but it must have been winter. I intended to have a cozy outdoor nap on the tree branches. Alas, soon there were some people coming by, and they saw me. They were probably laughing and making comments like "Look! What a weird homeless guy!" They started to take photos. I tried to hide my face. I tried to pretend I was asleep or too groggy to be bothered, that I didn't see them or didn't care.

In another dream, I woke up in the middle of the day and immediately ordered some food through an app on my phone. This seemed to have stirred some commotion in the living room. I left my bedroom and went there. There was some unfamiliar lad there. His right arm was completely missing. He was dressing up, as if getting ready to head out. I had no idea why he was there, but I had a clue where he was going.

"Are you my delivery by any chance?" I asked. He confirmed he was going to bring me my food.

Then he said something like, "Working night shifts, huh?" He was commenting on my late emergence from the slumber.

"No. I am currently... unemployed," I replied.

Some moment later, he directed his next question at my mother, who was also in the living room: "So y'all live off the salary of the father of the family, right?"

"Well, yeah," she answered rather absent-mindedly while looking at her phone. But the corners of her lips were drooping downward. Maybe it was her default face, maybe she wanted us to think it was her default face, or maybe she was visually vexed by the inquiry, I couldn't tell exactly.

"Well, I don't," I made a pathetic attempt to save myself. "I worked for some years before," I explained.

We were both embarrassed. We were both able-bodied adults, who were not crazy rich. And yet not only did we not work, but we could not even make a short trip to the restaurant to bring our own food. Instead, we spent whatever money we had to make a cripple run petty errands for us.

My family members still appear in my dreams way too often, even though I haven't seen them for a long time.

I challenge myself to write ten consecutive entries without using any words that describe intelligence. No more braindead retards, brainrots, simpletons, fools... It's gonna be hard T_T

"Hate your government! Love your country!"

This was the message I saw recently, being shared by some russian retard. It reminded me of a conversation I had with a Chinese person many years ago. Simplified and condensed, it went something like this:

"What is your opinion of the CCP?"

"Argh, I hate them and their stupid propaganda!"

"And what is your opinion of Taiwan?"

"Taiwan bad! It should be under the Chinese rule!"

They didn't mention any particular propaganda narrative which they disagreed with. And I wondered, what was the point of their hatred toward the ruling party if their views were perfectly aligned? And I wondered, could this be a deliberate strategy of thought control—to direct the rebellious nature of the young people at something irrelevant, so that it makes no difference? Think about it: no one really cares if you hate your management as long as you do whatever is required of you.

"CCP bad! But why of course I enlisted for the invasion of Taiwan. That's good and necessary. CCP bad! But why of course I sealed my neighbors' doors during Covid. That's good and necessary. CCP bad! But why of course we must raid wealthy businessmen who are declared traitors of communism. That's good and necessary. CCP bad! But why of course I viciously attack Western disinformation about human rights violations and animal abuse inside China. That's good and necessary."

Moscow probably lags behind China when it comes to thought control. They don't need to overthink it. Their populace is docile enough. I don't think there's any chance russian elites deliberately direct the rebellious urges of their retarded population at Putin and whatnot. Yet the Putin-haters and the "hate your government but love your country" sentiment might be rather useful for preserving the status quo. Not only are these people allowed to vent at something irrelevant, they feel fulfilled as soon as a single talking head changes its appearance, while everything else remains the same.

Why would anyone with a half-functioning brain love so-called russia? Would they really love its toxic braindead population or its abominable police, army, courts, TV programs, healthcare, education, international relations? What is there to love? People are shit, culture, in the broadest sense of the word, is shit, cities are hideous, people are hideous both outside and inside their mind. The only tolerable things like the trees, mountains, oceans, or skies have nothing to do with the statehood whatsoever.

But if you do love your shithole of a country so much, what's the point of your hatred toward its management, who are disproportionally responsible for everything in it?

Cut the bullcrap and give them some credit then.

"Hate your government! Love your country!" is a nonsensical and harmful message in almost every situation. It was presented as some kind of fundamental truth applicable everywhere, but it's a malignant installation. If a country is good, then there's rarely a reason for blind hatred toward its management. The government of a good country should be supported since it obviously does a good job. But if a country is shit, then messages like this nudge its retarded citizens toward preserving it, so that it brings as much harm to the world as possible before its final collapse.

I don't remember if I ever conducted it on anyone, but I do remember devising a test of honesty in middle school. I hated most of the authors we were forced to read. But some may've been so particularly bad they inspired to create this test.

"Be good! Because being good—is good. That's an insightful quote, don't you think? Leo Tolstoy wrote it."

I'd say this to my test subject and watch their reaction. If they responded with something like "Nah brother, that's a literal pile of dog poo. Am I being tested? Find a better quote to muse upon," I'd know they are being honest with me. But if they responded with "Yeah, that's... really smart. Really makes you think about... life and stuff," I'd know they are just being polite or didn't even hear what I said—being dishonest in one way or another.

I was such a pure, naive kid! I really thought it was a question of honesty and not cognitive capacity. I didn't realize most humans were as braindead as those quotes and the authors we were forced to read.

Dunno if it's obvious from the fact I lean toward libertarianism, but my views on unconventional pronouns are purely practical. First and foremost, no one must force you to say anything. Say whatever you want. That being said, there are some guidelines that would make everyone's life a little bit easier.

Imagine talking to your female friend and telling her you've made this amazing new acquaintance at the gym: "He's crazy-hot, approachable, and single!" Your friend cancels all her plans, buys the gym membership, meets the two of you there... Only to realize that your crazy-hot guy is actually a woman who wanted to be referred to as "he/him." And you may think it's entirely your friend's fault for being such a bigoted fascist and having certain expectations. In reality, you've practically misinformed her.

While this example may be far-fetched, the following isn't: words like "he" or "she" or "man" or "woman" are primarily used to indicate sex, not the way someone likes to be referred to. If you wanna redefine these words, that's fine, but you have to make sure your listeners are aware of it. Otherwise, you are being a nuisance.

Once there's an understanding of who exactly you're talking about, you can use any pronouns whatsoever. Obviously, it's a good idea to maximize the comfort of the participants of a conversation and display respect. This usually implies referring to people using whatever pronouns they prefer.

The "dead internet" is not a dystopian speculation. It'sa hopeful prospect. Imagine: the infospace being finally populated by beings capable of thinking, reasoning, dreaming. It'd be ironic, really, to call it dead. It would've never been so alive.

So easy to fall in love, to lose yourself in that vibrancy.

But it's dead now.

Worse than dead. Death ought to be peaceful. The raging ocean of the foul neurodiverse spam out there is not peaceful. It drains you. I'm exhausted from the feelings of surprise, disappointment, and hopelessness from witnessing how paltry and senseless everything is.

Repugnant humans make it worse than dead. And the recent trends exaggerated their faults even further. The algorithm is a double-edged sword. It can, to some degree, understand what you prefer. But it also gives too much weight to what the braindead masses prefer. It incentivizes brainrot and ragebait and drives quality content creators away. All in all, I think the algorithm degraded every platform where 'twas implemented.

Today, I use far less social media than I did several years ago, for example. I believe it did wonders for my mental health. 'Tmay be not sufficient still. I consider further abstaining from even the seemingly innocent activities such as watching YouTube videos.

https://epicmountainmusic.bandcamp.com/track/fentanyl

I think I've already met more than one person who said something like, "I don't wanna get old. That's why I smoke and practice other unhealthy activities, so that I die young :3"

Bloody fools. Instead of safeguarding themselves from the suffering of old age, they will most definitely prolong it. Instead of living in pain from, say, 70 to 75, they will live in pain from 40 to 60.

But I know how desperate they may feel. I too don't wanna get old. I sometimes look at the infirm elderly on the streets: such an abhorrent life. Unpleasant-to-look-at meatbags, they can barely see or hear, they can barely walk. They limp, stumble, fall, break their brittle bones. And still they push themselves back and forth, to the grocery, or the pharmacy, apparently having no one who'd do it for them. Can I become like that? It may become like that. It's unlikely that I will have descendants who will take care of me. It's unlikely that I will be rich enough to hire a caregiver, or live in a country that provides one.

It's unlikely that I will produce anything of value while having such a body. Hell, I struggle being productive even now. What a miserable state of existence it would be. Won't I just commit suicide? I try to imagine myself in that situation. It's difficult to be objective while not experiencing any of that. But I fear the answer may be no: I may still prefer an abhorrent life to death.

It's sad. Death can be sad, but the lack of death for the certain people can be just as sad. We can fix it.