Deadbeats
2026-07-09
Most salesmen are thieves who steal with their tongues.
It doesn't matter if you're a billionaire or some homeless schizophrenic; everyone lives hand-to-mouth. The true act of discernment lies in understanding what hand is feeding you, and learning not to bite it or snatch from it. I was thinking yesterday and this morning about work, and getting down on myself for, you know, not having a real job or whatever. Something I've had to learn the hard way: it doesn't matter how much you work toward something; the outcome is never guaranteed, and putting so much sweat and tears into something that may or may not pay off is a fruitless and stupid pursuit. I've had so many occasions in life where I've locked the fuck in on something, set my heart to it, made goals and plans, and it just—didn't work out. Some motivational speaker would probably throw out that line, "the only failure is when you stop trying," and that's just blatantly false. Life is all about timing, opportunity, and luck; sure, you can take a thousand shots, but if you miss the one that counts, that's it. Michael Jordan is famously addicted to gambling because when he spent years making those critical shots—and then having those celebrations and reaping his winnings—he still had to wake up the next day. Since he couldn't play basketball anymore, he tried taking things into his own hands like he always did, and only found that same rush and solace from playing rigged games.
Sure, when the game isn't rigged, it makes sense to give it your all and take your best shot regardless of what happens; unfortunately, life is about as rigged of a game as it gets, and this notion of "trying your best" for a rigged game is only ever going to lead to disappointment for most. People who tell stories usually only like to tell the good ones because that makes us feel good. They want to instill a sense of hope for something better to come, but in this life, that better thing is not guaranteed; even worse, the odds are so stacked against us, there's no sense in having hope for that kind of stupid shit. You know, even if you did win that thing or get that job or hit whatever stupid milestone you have, you'll be just like Mike—and still have to wake up the next morning. I was reading up on Jack Kerouac and his reaction to the NYT interview for On the Road; his reaction was flat, like he was pissed at himself for not being happy like he "should've" been. He made it, became famous, and is still talked about today beyond the grave by idiots like me.
That book fucking sucks, by the way. All the beatnik stuff does because it's empty, pretentious fuckboi bullshit. On the Road has no markings of a great book: the prose is decent, but not great; the characters are all deadbeat pieces of shit; there's no plot or sense of growth or arrival; and worst of all, it just insists on itself in a way that demands more out of the reader than the "substance" it provides. Some would probably say that's the point of the book, that it's aimless bullshit because that's apparently what life is when it's all said and done, right? If that were actually true, all those beatniks would've been forgotten by history like they rightly should've been, but instead we see constant hauntological retellings of lives wrought with ungrateful and ambivalent privilege. They don't tell it like it is because they are so spiritually bereft and out of their element that if they had even a basic sense of what life is all about, they wouldn't have gone about and fucked it all off for the sake of some forgettable, half-syncopated, and self-congratulating verse that nobody today ever cares to quote or find anything valuable in. Because that's the thing: it wasn't valuable, and today we don't celebrate their work, but bemoan the aftermath of a generation that fought and died in pointless wars so that we could invest in pointless markets and lose ourselves in the false pretenses of idealistic and banal "freedom."
Maybe those beatniks were pissed about playing those rigged games too, but the answer wasn't to spiral into pointless hedonism and "live in the moment" or whatever quasi-Buddhist Kool-Aid they decided to sip from Alan Watts. Sure, maybe we can't make the game less rigged. Wars will always be fought; goods will always exchange hands; the world will still run however it does, but this hapless resignation to it all just makes everyone want to fucking kill themselves, quite frankly. I don't necessarily want to go back to some kind of "tradition" because that's the same stupid idealism of the beatniks, but pointed to a past that never actually happened. I want to live in that moment, maybe not out of a desire to make things better later down the line, but just so I can help myself get through the day in a way that helps me remember to do right by others and not be such a sorry, sad, and bitter person. Everyone has their talents, things they like, things that help them figure stuff out; for me, I guess that's just trying to inspire others to get through in a way that doesn't make me lose myself while playing a rigged game.
I believe there are things in life that matter. I love the Lord, I love my neighbor, and I love myself. I will not, for any fucking reason, let anything in this life take those commands from my heart no matter what. I am a small, but necessary part of God's good and perfect plan, and so I'm going to put the work in that I feel upholds the commands He gave me to execute on this earth, nothing less or more. I will do it no matter what, and if there's anything I can learn from those beatniks, it's that conviction will always win out. There is nothing stopping me from doing what I have to do, except for maybe my own insolence and myopia. However, God gives me the chance every day to repent, and I will do everything in my power to keep His statutes close, no matter how many times I fail or how many times I bite the hand that feeds me.
Support my work with Liberapay
Bitcoin address: bc1qtgqvj6qjxnaxkns20x5rcwnxvv3jqzhduvvxfc