{∅, {∅}, {∅, {∅}}} : Rage Against the Meat Grinder

The "certain truth" is that saying on paper what one has been just barely willing to formulate in thought can be fearsome.

 William Blake toyed with the idea that one day it might be necessary for the "men of imagination" to shed the blood of the literal-minded who make the world unfit to live in.

How would William Blake be received by today's world's literal-minded thought-police and politically correct "Net Nannies" in the libraries?

We are trying, in vain, to comprehend and to solve the riddle of our own miserable existence.  Maybe we have done all we can do in simply allowing ourselves to experience just what a miserable existence this is, to have recognized the farce of human history.

I suspect that I repress my actual feelings toward or about others, from parents to sister, and all those I encounter.   What I feel is not pleasant at all. 

The only reason I continue with mathematics and programming exercises is because it is an act of revenge on my part - revenge against that Machinery of Society which would otherwise have me drink myself to death or worse, attend psychiatric-ward type sessions where I am subjected to public scrutiny.

The degenerates in charge would demand to know "what else would you do with your life?"

They have no idea how a couple exercises, or one simple computer program, could be far more worthy of one's attention than all the Sunday Sermons and Psychobabble Sessions the world over.

I don't really want to delve too deeply into the negative feelings in my heart. 

There is no Law stating that Monsters, Creatures, Brutes, etc., are required to sing praises, forever counting blessings, "working on one's SELF."   

It's as though I have emotionally prepared myself for the death of everyone I know, even myself - and I am not phased.   That is, it's all just so much dust in the wind.