Sunday, March 21, 2010

Means – Part Two

Working makes me not want to buy anything. It seems like many people reward themselves for their hard work by spending money that they don’t have. They must enjoy fertilizing their debt, their obligation to the grind. Work doesn’t make me want to own showy, expensive things. It makes me not want to work anymore. It makes me want to try to live on crackers and peanut butter. Since I have to be a part of the American economy and lose giant chunks of my life to it, I want to rape it back for as much as I can, with an unlubricated broomstick and some sand. I want to be a miser. I try not to contribute to it by spending. It gets in the way of what I want to do with my time. This is not to say that I’m not materialistic. I’m not above wanting. I buy books, music, and alcohol like it’s cool to be a hermetic, misanthropic, alcoholic geek. You won’t catch me buying expensive clothes, cars, or lavish accessories for the house, though, not at gunpoint. Time is wealth, and nobody has an excess of that.

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