1. The feeling I get in examining this work is a terrible dread that all philosophical writing is a terrible waste of time. Oh, the dialectic of mountain climbing and tribal living versus diggin in the stylus of writing, oh yes this dialectic is familiar. Ditch my intellectual heights for European bike travel. God damn it, the point is there might be more to that saw than there is to reading motherfucking Von Mises, but without that fucking reading it isn't clear that branch is worth cutting. Oh, you see the fucking problem. Same with the fucking girl chasing. God damn waste of time, right? But sure as shit reveals a whole lotta shit you can't get on the chair and on the desk. Maybe even you can't get at it with that saw. Fuck.

  2. Yeah, it's easy to bitch about the tribe at this fucking desk. What a pain in the ass they will be. No, but after exhausting myself on the road for a week, roaming over to the next ridge and getting away from these Western bitches seemed like the only solution. Men are cowards, and as you say they create or back in to these myths--most use the soiled laundry of other men's myths. Fuck.


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