The top search term for this blog is “just kill yourself”. I don’t know why anybody would search that. Do they hate Google? Is that like a virtual punching pillow? Or are they talking to themselves in the third person shouting that they should stop being a pussy and just do it already. I don’t know really, I hope they started having a better time once they got here though. I hope they learned that there is always a Self that you should kill, but that it is almost never the big One that seems so obvious.

Behind that is “porn star fucked”, I’m not sure if the second two words are going to make that search any more useful. It sounds like kind of an angry search – maybe they’re in the process of killing unwanted pieces of Self! That would be exciting. I wonder what that person did when they got sent to my post about baring my naked soul to the world through poetry. Were they touching themselves? Were they at work? Did their horny-rage get smooshed by ooshygooshy poetry? I have no idea, but this is wonderful.


Why do people – everybody but me and you – type things like that into Google? Because Google is the closest thing to Jesus we have. But why do we think these things? There is always sorrow in life. People die unromantically, they go to jail for victimless crimes, they get consumed by the consumption of Snooki. The only thing that takes suffering to the depths of searching about killing stuff is when you reject it.

This repression of frowns is dumb. The entire self-help industry and positive psychology is yelling, “Smile or die! Euphoria or bust!” Which is a nice thought. And if you look in the right places in the right ways then life is that cheery. Then you have the advertisers and the government who is screaming at you with trillions of dollars that you couldn’t possibly be content, you don’t have X! You don’t own a house or smell like an oak barrel with flowers – and you certainly aren’t riding elephants in Indonesia right now! Advertisers chase us to self-help who chases us to weird rituals and products to help us convince ourselves we are taking the right steps to acquire the things they know we need.

I’m not hating on anyone here at all. We need to buy things and we need to sell things and we need to eat things and we need to be directed to the best products. But we need to realize they are full of shit and we need to smell our own. Or at least I need to smell my own more often. Because that is the only shit that we can really cleanse. Get out the chunks of bullshit desires.

So there is this picture of being happier. And that’s good. Happiness is a fantastic thing to do. We should all do it a little more. And I think the way to ensure it’s pure is to be brave around the other stuff.

Psychologists – ‘experts’ – say that smiling makes you happier. It releases smiley-chemicals in the body. Wonderful! But it’s no good if it’s running from the other parts of life that are just as valid. Sitting in anger or depression or anything is important. There are a billion sad songs that would never have been made if someone didn’t decide that it’s worth sitting in their sadness for a second.

There is an eastern – the magical land of perfect zen and people sitting cross-legged – technique of feeling your emotion instead of explaining it. Noticing where in the body it comes up. For some reason mental states like to burn or tingle or pressurize at the bottom of my sternum. This is one way to see what’s there without letting the thinking mind hold onto it for dear life. Once that happens then you’ve entered obligatory anger or fear or whatever else. 

A couple things happen when you don’t run from your own mental states. First, the sadness or anger almost immediately let’s up a bit. Once you observe it you realize that it’s not so completely useless. Then happiness comes in, the true kind. Not the kind that you get from running to a strip club or booze or beach but the kind that you get when you realize that respecting your exact experience is the shit.

Oh gosh what a downer of a post. I should start a new movement, “Sad and proud!” The culture of despair. Let cynicism reign! No, no, no, that’s not the point one bit. Ironically, I’m happy writing this post. By definition it’s more fun to be happy. But sometimes it’s not about the fun, it’s about the sad and when it is then it’s worth saying Hello to. Not for long, but for a minute.

Kill the phonies and trust the truth.