Dark night of the soul

There are few things more frustrating than the herd mentality. Why would anyone want to do what is common, to follow a bland path of groupthink? Why be the same as everyone else? Spouting nonsensical pseudo-wisdom and meaningless platitudes in some vain attempt to sound deep when really they are parroting someone else's line without doing any legwork. Or just rattling off the soundbites of whatever pop song or '90s movie was on their screens that week. Buying brands that others will recognise, relying on critical consensus to dictate what they think is good. Letting others make their decisions for them without any insight nor interest.

Fucking hell.

Everyone is stupider than you'd hope and yet the world keeps revolving. That's the dark truth - it doesn't matter how bad it gets, things just keep on keeping on. You could call it the great human spirit but really it's just a numbers game. There's enough people out there that just about anything can happen and we'll still make it as a species. That bloody herd is thick enough that even when the stragglers get picked off it can keep on eating grass and shitting everywhere.

But the tragedy is that the stragglers, the ones on the outskirts, are kept out there by the rest of the group. It's better to be in the middle of the pack, where it's safer, because if you're on the outer you're at risk of being eaten. The ones who act different, think different, are kept at arm's length by everyone else because it's in their self-interest to do so. And so it's all too easy for those great thinkers, tortured souls and oddities to be picked off in the grasses by predators external and internal.

You've read this before, though. Just another appropriation of someone else's good ideas. Fuck.

It is so hard to do something different, and yet that glimmering peak still seems just around the corner, as it did round the last bend. This blog is depressingly similar to a million other whiny assholes but at least I know it. You shouldn't be reading it, really. Go do something more productive. Paint something. When was the last time you painted anything? When did you become so dependant on everyone else to be creative for you? For once, push everyone away. Why reach up to those on the bell curve when you can walk the other way to infinity?

We left Basel and with it the erudite and spontaneous. Zurich holds noise and apathy. It is a dull hum on my eardrums and a sebaceous growth. The paint peels on the Chinese Garden and you can order Chinese takeaway in the corner. It is chain stores and chain smokers. It is the expectation of a coming loss, the tightening of a shackle. I sat in the park at night and was momentarily unburdened, live jazz music drifting out from a half-empty gallery, but am a dying apiary still.