The Misanthropic Gospel
I wrote this when I was twenty three years old. I felt it was decent enough to rerelease. I hope you enjoy it. Please subscribe to me on Youtube, Facebook and Twitter for more. You can always find the newest dates and content here as well.
Hello, my name is Andrew. I’m your average 23 year old. I’ve got no car, no motivation, and as far as the eye can see, no future. Of course I’m fine with all of that because with no future the present becomes much more important. In my opinion no one has a future. The world has to end some day dragging history into oblivion with it. Even if that never happens, my name wouldn’t survive 500 years. Do you realize how many more people will have lived by that point? Besides, as great as I am I doubt that I’m going to be the next JFK. Thank God for that too, he was assassinated. Anyway, my point is the future is a figment.
What time is for me are isolated episodes of self-awareness strung together in a long series of moments. Then these moments are harvested and further isolated into memories. I used to know a man named Steve. He professed his undying love for a girl. Later on in life when the three of us were hitchhiking together, I watched him slug her in the eye. Steve was a tough guy. Steve was a real man. Steve didn’t take shit from anybody, especially not from a bitch. Steve was a tragedy in the making. Now he’s just another contradiction sealed in a moment that no longer exists. I find myself now, stuck in a new moment and looking back it all seems blurry.
If you were to comb a lexicon for a description of me, you could accurately pin me as a misanthrope; which is someone who hates or distrusts humankind. In short, I have a bad attitude. When my neighbors are gasping in horror over the news that some fatigued psycho just gunned down 13 people at a local mall. I’m thinking to myself “I could’ve got a higher score.” What do you expect after years of watching my race setting fires, ravaging environments, torturing one another and generally enslaving or snuffing everything with a pulse. I could paint hallmark scenes with the sound-bytes and visions reverberating in my head. Everybody’s got problems though, right?
So I don’t believe in the future, time, or my race; my philosophies are borderline nihilistic. My disposition could easily be considered a simple bias toward the complexity of homo sapien. The paradox comes into play when I tell you that the professionals I respect most are healers and debunkers. I’m an advocate for animal and civil rights. I believe in no bible gods; I have faith in the individual mind, not material goods or fairytales. Yeah I know. It doesn’t make any sense to me either. Even if you think I’m insane remember that nothing is completely black and white, not even hatred.