I was going to give up junk food and coffee today but even though I see coffee as wagie fuel that ruins my sleep and ruins my gym strength, I can't really bear to do it. It energises me in the middle of a demoralising work day where I am the ugy loser beta (also on the street, but not with the same people constantly). I have been socialised to associate it with getting stuff done, even though I procrastinate endlessly. I haven't yet convinced myself to skip boring old "classic" books so why bother being non conformist and giving up coffee when I refuse to be non conformist and claim Jane Austen and Dostoevsky are boring as fuck.
I'm sick of always trying to look for philosophies of living and heuristics and etc. The only worthwhile advice that can be remembered all the time is to always be honest with yourself. But being honest gets the crowd piling up on you. Even lit cares about the crowd, no matter how much you talk about objective quality of books. If a book isn't endorsed by the academia-media-publishing industrial complex you don't give a fuck about it.
But another reason I won't give up coffee is that it brings up the issue of whether optimising my life like some dehumanised being is worthwhile. In notes from the underground one of the most memorable parts was when the narrator talked about acting in a perverse way to feel human.
Oh yeah, and it's hot and the many attractive women outside are demoralising to see. They see me as disgusting non Chad scum. Yesterday a woman asked me for directions and I pretended not to know, out of bitterness. She I would've laughed in my faceif I had asked out the 22 year old her.
Today is typical. Hopelessness and laziness building up to an epiphany in the evening where I realise the key to succeeding in every aspect of life at once is to focus on few things / focus on many things / do only things I find fun / do only things society deems important / forget about the question and just live life etc.
embrace despair