Post Black Pills: "So What's It Going to Be Then, Eh?"

At the beginning of the novel A Clockwork Orange, not the movie, Alex (I think) asks his friends, "So, what's it going to be then, eh?" And this starts the group on their spree of murderous mischief through London. The droogs, as they are called, follow Alex on his adventure, and then it's pretty much just Alex, but in any case, this book starts like Pulp Fiction starts like Requiem for a Dream starts, really; some people hanging out, just waiting for a "passing feeling," and about to fuck things up.

In real life, it's more like a single individual, multiplied across various households in every town and city, sitting there in front of a computer "with nothin' to do / But breathe the fuckin' shit in they eyes," like Eminem says in "Sing for the Moment," and wondering what's going to become of them. These are people who have lost most momentum and most hope for anything different, but I imagine most still wonder and wait for things to at least, in some way, get better. And who knows, if they will?

And here is where David Goggins comes in and strangles me. Yes, I know, it's all up to you. But when the world you live in means that any forum you're likely to go for a better living situation is going to be supporting what made this world so horrible, it's a bit of a different question. My dad worked for pharmaceutical companies, his whole life. He once said to my stepmom that they're certainly not gonna put their daughter on that shit, those psych meds, when she was having some trouble, and he was right. But the companies were companies that made either those or some other toxic meds.

Do I do that? I once had an interview, if you can believe it, for I think Pfizer, as some kind of copy writer. I didn't make it back (I remember Trump on the screens of their TVS, it was 2016), but then within a month or so, I got called by the headhunter who said that someone else didn't work out, or another position opened up, or something, and they wanted me back. Or that I would have another chance. She seemed insulted when I said, "No, you know, I had a bad feeling about it, anyway . . ." No shit. I didn't know enough then to know why, but of course I had a bad feeling, about it! My dad built a whole family, really two, out of blood money, essentially, from just another evil corporation.

What do I do? Not that. Now, I guess it's pretty much a non-issue, but I mean, fuck it. I could beat the shit out of every single person in every single marketing agency for every single pharmaceutical company out there, easily. Writing, I mean. I could surpass every single one of them, get me in a room. And if they actually let me do it, I could then have a wife and kids. But I don't want to do that. That is evil.

And, again. But, that doesn't matter. I guarantee I could schmooze up the ranks. I guarantee I could do the Law of Attraction to get there, if I wanted to. But I don't. So, what do I do? What do I do, without money? Any place I work for, other than writing for my own, or something, would probably be similarly compromised.