The March of the Drones.

It's been a long month. 31 Straight days of stuttered progress, retarded growth, and arrested development. People come and go, but I'm still standing here in my spot, which I guess is nice because I've found a place to call my own, if only for another 6 weeks. I've lost what little motivation I once had for schoolwork and instead I spend my days in my room practicing guitar for hours on end. I'm sick and tired of going to the gym and lifting the same plates, playing the same scales in my room, looking outside and seeing the same landscape and watching the same people run circles around campus in their routines. This isn't a dorm, it's a cell. The walls are white, like the scariest of rooms, although sans padding, which is a plus, but nothing can quite stick to them without falling off moments later.

What I'm sick of most, however, is watching others revel in their successes and enjoy what they do. Everyone here seems so content in their lives, they're studying in fields that they legitimately enjoy, but that's a luxury that isn't afforded to me. However, I chose my path, I put myself in this situation and in two short years I'll have fully assimilated to the lifestyle and culture of the corporate machine, and that's if this job market actually has me using my degree. In all reality I'll probably still be at the Coast Guard House, probably STILL won't be promoted to waitstaff, and I'll probably be tied down by monthly rent, living paycheck to paycheck. I probably won't find my way out of this hellish little place to bloom into who I always wanted to be. But they say life is all about settling and prioritizing, so I settled my dreams and made money a priority. Even if I do get out of Rhode Island, what's so great about the world out there? There are people inhabiting practically every inch of this planet and there's no way to escape the contracts that come with social interaction. Everywhere I go they'll be there, like little ants searching for food to bring to the queen, running constantly in circles to no end.

There'll be no private island, no extravagances that I had associated with corporate power: America is changing. The laborer will rise once again, and the notion of "an honest day's work for an honest day's pay" will return. The middle class will sink or swim, and with most of them wearing lead shoes it's not hard to imagine what way they'll go, and we'll continue the age-old trend of working like servants to the people who control the world at the top of our god damned power structure. The coup and revolution that I had dreamed up can never come to fruition, and the bankers who are receiving all of our money won't give it back or start giving out more loans, they'll just hoard it for themselves, but can you blame them? I wouldn't reinvest in the community. I would acquire all the foolish riches that money can buy in the vain hopes of seducing every young woman I meet.

Speaking of: fuck 'em. Money grubbing wenches who know what their power is and use it to their advantage. That'll never change, and when women rise up in this world to the top, then maybe this whole pointless species will finally bite the dust, and not a moment too soon. Once the women have money, there'll be no need for men except as sperm donors to continue the species, because the shallow sirens that walk these streets aren't actually interested in another being, they just want the money so they can buy their dresses and their shoes and sit on their ass all day reading Cosmo. Then they can go out to the bar at night, order some expensive bitch drink and wrap some poor sap around their finger before they try to break him.

Well I say fuck it all. We're all dead weight walking, waiting for our breath to run out before we're interred or charred into ash. All that this world has offered me thus far has been sub-par and inadequate. And I'm not one to settle, not any more. I've got my eyes on the brass ring that lets me go for another free ride on the merry-go-round. And if I don't get it, will anyone? Regardless, I'm not going out quietly. There is too much scum on my boots from walking around this putrid vile place and some serious cleaning has to be done. That's exactly what this world needs: less people. Humanity, the cancer of this planet, destroying everything in our path and reforming it to fit out twisted little needs and desires. And men fight among themselves in immense volume over ideas, try to kill each other because they can't agree or agree to disagree. I say they're on the right track. Let war consume the landscape, take the front line from Iraq onto domestic territory. Then at least we'll get a little excitement before the inevitable end comes. Because I'm tired of waking up in the mornings only to deal with the same stupid shit. I can't wait long enough for the time to come where the last thing I experience is a dream before never waking up, because at least then I'd die with some shred of happiness to cling to.