Every day in every way, we are getting weaker.

Equal all. Nothing to strive for, nothing to sacrifice. Purposeless. 

Virtue lurching over clouds of dissonance, raining into the endless sea of congratulation. 

We are drowning in affirmations, choking behind shit eating grin.

Truth sinks to the cold recesses of want and suffering.

"We the moral, we the pious, we are here to save you from yourselves."

All must be destroyed, all must be saved from the vileness of the other. 

The forgone conclusion.

Good god, we've grown weak.

Coddled, incapable, entitled, docile. 

Ravenous decay is all.

Too cowardly to see the poisoned lie we live, blinded by ill-gotten privilege. 

There is a silver lining. The pulp spewing from the machines enriches the soil. Want builds character and seeds the spirit of resistance.

Failure is key, failure is necessary. Failure is the spark that sets the soul ablaze and drives off the weak and petty.

Art demands pain. Prosperity demands suffering. Push through the pains, the hesitation. Aspire for more. Grow stronger. Become a master of a craft, become USEFUL. Teach the children right from wrong, fight the nothing. Fight the ever encroaching dark.

So many in this world coddling one anothers' weaknesses, their delusions, in a torturous deathspiral. We medicate, we invite frivolity over the honest day's work. We crave celebrity over substance. 

We race about the rat wheel squeaking for lubrications. 

As the days fly, as the rot sets, and as infightings rage, there comes a point you must pick a side. You have to grow up and fulfil your role as the mantle is handed generation to generation, wanted or not, deserved or not.  Perfect or not, weak or not.

Easy to curse the rocky road. We've learned so much, learned the value of so much. We have found purpose and resolve in the suffering and decay, and though we're kicked into dirt, we soldier on. 

I'm happy to report the fire still burns deep in this cave. Through chaos, madness, and strife, first and foremost we want to make a great fucking game. Damn the Torpedoes.

We can be another shining example that you don't need to feed the beasts to provide something of value to this cruel world. 

World going to shit, everyone at each other's throats. What choice do we have, but to continue to push? We're too fucking neckbeard to sit by and huff someone else's farts. 

No one's coming to save us. And if everyone else is going to fuck off and play grab ass as the world catches fire, I guess it falls on us to push forward and keep the flame alive amidst the fakes and jokers. There are worse fates than withering in a cave keeping the fire alit...

For all the nights of ease lost to the midnight oil, for all the estranged, despite the pervading shames, the cold and asinine judgements... we're still in this fight, we still have purpose, we have a rising ambition, and the fire still rages against the dying of the light.

Work commences soon m*ther fuckers.

The ball's in our court, that's all we ever asked for, a shot to punch it into the goal with a corrupt world as our judge. Call me crazy, maybe i'm up my own ass like all the rest. But I think the game is becoming good, like FUCKING GOOD. The kind of good that has a snowball's chance in this muddeled up, shook-up world.

Fell off the wagon, had a few too many drinks a few too many days this weekend, but still proud of how well we've been doing the past year, a few hiccups belching from our own inner demons. 

No more wastin' good time having good times. 

There's a war that needs wagin', and we're manning our little shanty battle stations with what we've got: mentally deranged, Ill TemperedT unas, m*ther fuckers.

Time to push hard to get the SeaCrit out. I find life SO FUCKING STRANGE right now. On one hand, we're a fucking loser making a fish game in a cave... on the other hand... maybe we're on the precipice...

The culmination of a life's work soon, in the blink of an eye.

The struggle, the resistance, the stakes and the lack of a safety net... it's made this project feel alive, the thrill of the fight for life. We got to feel the intense rush of the fight for our life, the primal struggle for survival. 

The alternative is to be a rat in the cage, afforded the preapproved block of preprocessed cheese, spinning our little squeeky wheel powering the grand machines as the world sparks and sputters in the dark. A mundane, circular jerk of self destructive ejaculate greasing our screeching wheels. 

But you know me I CAN'T COMPLAIN!