Survival

When you get famous, dinner isn’t food anymore; it’s twenty ounces of protein, ten ounces of carbohydrates, salt-free, fat-free, sugar-free fuel. There is a meal every two hours, six times a day. Eating isn’t about eating anymore. It’s about protein assimilation.

It’s about cellular rejuvenation cream. Washing is about exfoliation. What used to be breathing is respiration.

I’d be the first to congratulate anybody if they could do a better job of faking flawless beauty and delivering vague, inspiring messages:

Calm down. Everyone, breathe deep. Life is good. Be just and kind. Be the love.

As if.

– Chuck Palahniuck, Survivor, p138

What do we do to survive in this world? We fake it. And in the process, make life as sordid as possible.

The almighty god of celebdom tells us to embrace botox, boobs and beautification. And we obey – famous or not.

In the process, we rob ourselves of our most precious gift LIFE. We live for the future instead of the moment. Spontaneity is sacrificed at the alter of obsession; obsession over what we are not, over what we wish to be.

Do we accept the mediocre lashings of age or do we defy the physical conscripts of father time? It matters not; infatuated in essence, the choice is negated by ego.

No-one is exempt but the degree is definable.

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