fuck Kafka

^ Epicurus most likely had a lot of things to teach Kafka. Navel gazing isn't one of those things.

In a gaming community I frequent, a fellow member posted this:

Where do they come from and where do they go?

Why do people create knowing that it will eventually be destroyed? Why do people cling to life knowing that they must someday die? None of that will have meant anything once you do.

Kefka may have been completely batshit insane, but he raises a good point. Why do we do the things we do? What does it mean to live? Why do you insist on living and finding happiness knowing that it is temporary and death is probably eternal? What is your response when you are faced with these questions?

I replied with this:

First of all, I wouldn't trust Kafka to be my guru even if I were considering razor blades on my wrist instead of on my unshaved face. The guy most likely didn't know shit about enjoying himself, he was emo before emo was emo. Amazing writer, though.

Secondly, I have no idea if there is an afterlife (I'm atheist) but damn shit if I try not to have as much fun as I possibly could in this life I have now and to be as good as I can to other people.

I don't "cling" to life. I make hot passionate love to it. I lust for it and in it. Not because I'm desperate, but because it's there to take advantage of. It's not death I'm scared of, it's the absence of living.

Years ago I nearly died myself, from a medical condition, so I have some idea how it would feel to be on that "event horizon" of existence. It taught me a lesson: be good, have fun, lust is your friend, and build and create and enjoy while you're around and not give a shit if it all ceases to exist when you do. Because you have nothing else better to do, and what good would it do to just mope in a dark corner?

The idea of the worthlessness of this life hints at a lack of imagination and self-esteem, and certainly to a kind of laziness in imbuing value and a sense of time well spent, no matter how brief that time may be and no matter how mysterious dying may be perceived in terms of what may or may not come afterward.

Oh, I've done my share of navel gazing. The difference is that I got the fuck over it. My navel only looks interesting for so long, you know.

I could use another Mexicola (coke, lime juice, and tequila). Cheers!