sometime last year when i had this ascetic epiphany was also when this soulless country, with its obscene applause for relentless material acquisitions and standing ovations of skyscrapers do not impress me anymore. given a choice i'd live and work in academia the rest of my life. there is nowhere else i can obtain the intellectual stimulation i crave, and the lofty promises of the vacuous, avaricious world outside have ceased to arouse me. why do i want to be reduced to a pathetic cog in that machinery forever whining about unreasonable bosses, retarded colleagues, and dead-end jobs, where nobody thinks they're ever paid enough yet would never admit to their own ineptitude? why do i want to stuff myself in a claustrophobic panopticon of an office never seeing sunlight and slogging endlessly for yet another paycheque only so i can lust after the next ephemeral bourgeois fandangle, when i can take daily strolls through intellectual bohemia ruminating politics and philosophy, reading the masterpieces of literature, and penning treatises that would always be my name? perhaps i wont be as productive or wealthy as you, but why should i want to be? how many nonsensical self-help books do i have to read and next-door-lims to compare before my esteem and existence can be validated? how many ipods, nokias, powerbooks, volkswagens and condominiums do i need to be happy in this life? i cant take with me any of these when i die and i would rather people remember me as someone who contemplated the world and life, than as someone who could only afford prada and a car.
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