06 march 2025
K: ok, lay it on me
T: what's the point?
K: the point is that you care about this, and it hurts us
R: we're a middle aged woman now Tom, we can't afford lofty, unrealistic ideals
T: yeah, yeah fuck off
K: Tom!
K: ... I don't know what to do with him when he's like this
T: I don't want to write a fucking essay about it. Why, in our current world, with more than enough resources for everyone to live with dignaty, does it really suck to be some people. Capital, that's why. An abstraction to make the wealthy feel safe, the middle class guilty and afraid, and the the left-behind in a constant humiliating state of agony.
K: It's not that bad.
T: IS IT? THERE'S A FUCKING ENCAMPMENT IN WELLINGTON PARK! DO YOU THINK THOSE PEOPLE ARE HAVING FUN?? A health insurance CEO kill millions to increase value for shareholders. People are getting bombed, because people disagree about who "owns" a piece of land. How did we end up in such a fucked up timeline?
K: It's not all bad?
T: But how can you enjoy your little comforts while we all sit on top of and guard our little mounds of capital. Worrying if they get too small something bad might happen to us? Make your mound more comfortable? more secure? have "community" with some other mounds, but OH GOD IS THAT PERSON TRYING TO TAKE STUFF OFF YOUR MOUND? The whole thing is fucking pointless. The worlds determined, and it's determined to be shit.
K: Rebecca?
R: Get the super soaker?
T: ... I get how Sid feels... what's the fucking point. We're just going to wind back up here again, feel really bad about it, and tumble out of it knowing that we'll just be back here again later
R: Maybe that's the nature of the illness.
T: Rebecca, compassion is not an illness.
R: No, listen. You're identifying with Sid. There must be a connection.
T: Don't... I'm just tired.
R: Tom! The moment things get hard--
K: Stop. We can't talk to ourselves this way. It's not sustainable.
T: ...
R: truce?
T: sure, I'll see you all here next time.
R: that's some Al Anon shit right there
K: what?
R: you, getting mad at e because she was saying something that you knew would upset Tom. A little backwards, eh?
K: huh, no, you're absolutely right
K: is he right? are we just doomed to keep winding back up here?
R: look, we'll be back here is some fashion. You, me, Tom. Sid. The Chat. We're all on the same hardware, and there are some pretty strange loops hardcoded. Dimes to donuts, we'll find our way here in another permutation, another itteration. We'll have the same feeling of exhaustion and defeat, and we'll realize we're there, at the bottom of a very unpleasant hole. And we'll be mad at ourselves for being there, and in a very real sense, we must either accept that or be doomed to be mad at ourselves for the rest of our lives
K: I don't want that.
R: me neither
K: but I also hate it here
R: we at least we're talking down here, in the deep heavy miasma. that must be progress right?
K: optimism