Posts Tagged With: failure

Alpha Beta Questions

Extroverted pick-up artists: have you found a lasting satisfaction? 
Introverted closet-freaks: does self-imposed monogamy have you wondering “what if?” 
Alpha-humans: are there enough notches on your bedpost? have you found a peak that is high enough? Do you cherish the memories of past triumph and mourn their passing? Are you living a legacy or leaving it?
Beta-humans: Do you accept your current conditions? Do you feel that quality overrides quantity? Do you find yourself settling for any vista the mountain has to offer while others climb to the peak? Does competition leave you feeling defeated? How do you compensate?
Free-thinkers: do you feel that these concepts undermine your innate liberated state? Recognizing that something small can only exist beside something tall & someone loses only when another wins, how do you maintain your detached balance?

(Warning: mundane philosophical observations ahead)
There is no virtue in demonstrating competition. 

Practice is akin to a sharpening stone.

True competition is born from necessity. 

Only the resilient & adaptable will endure true competition.
Whether you fuck for sport or fondle for love, fight for glory or kill to survive, we all experience victory and defeat. 
In this way, our experiences are uniquely bonded: the predator and the victim are one as “all life feeds on life to live.” 
As physical beings, we fuck & fight our way through time ’til death while a weird starry-eyed serpent chokes down its own tail.

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(don’t give him any encouragement or he won’t ever shut up)

He spends his recent time with collegiate humans. He is living on the edge of a Venn diagram; relative comparisons nearly contrast him into obscure alienation. 

He greets the doorman with an obsolete gesture; the party kindly waives his absence of mind. He thinks, “Charisma will get you a seat at the dinner table. Befriending the chef gets you a slice of pie.” 

He’s busy humming the Uneducated Blues and wondering, “so what does this life have to do with me?” He philosophizes himself into a paper bag. 

Outside there are drunks in the park. He gives them change and fuels their melancholy with paper money; it means nothing to either of them. Generosity and despair are little words printed on pixel and paper; neither gets you into the land of milk and honey. 

All the action lives before our eyes; he sees high society upon billboard signs and wonders, “can life really be like that?” His ruminations achieve nothing so he follows the cracking pavement into the forest. 

Broken-hearted humanity swallows itself whole without his help. The hungry gathering spares no prideful crumbs. He waits quietly for the sun to rise.

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