Something is wrong somewhere, I’ve started giving a shit.

When I started writing, I used to get upset when someone said something negative. Then over the years I got used to it, no amount of abuse or vitriol could get to me. I guess I half expected the anger, given my writing style. There often were moments when I truly enjoyed watching people go bat shit against my work. There’s nothing more amusing than seeing your words get inside someone’s brain and take a steaming dump in every random corner.

Something’s changed. Maybe it’s because of my new work with ViaTerra, maybe it’s because I have a completely different life now. As unfortunate as it may be, I am kinda settling down, leaving that insanely disorganized bachelor life behind, getting ready for the next chapter. 

Recently I got the provident fund money from my IT job, I’ve never seen so many digits in my account balance. I spent sleepless nights dreaming of the next bike I would  be humping, the next helmet I would kiss, the next armor that I’ll repeatedly jizz inside. But life has a funny way of punching you straight in the balls.

In an ideal world, right now I would’ve been in an orgy with a Ducati Scrambler, an AGV K4 Evo, an Alpinestars Montegi suit, a pair of Sidi ST Airs, Knox Handroids, and enough petrol to get to Mars. Instead, I am having an awkward staring match with my new TV, fridge, air conditioner, washing machine, mixer grinder, sandwich maker, and table fan, as an army of knives and plates and bowls and spoons and forks and mini spoons and mini forks and a cute red pressure cooker watch. 

Life changes.

This is why I have so much respect for people like Sachin. I’m far from married, not even engaged yet, and I’ve become more domesticated than a 48 year old mother of 2 sexually blooming girls. I’m fast becoming the thing I detest the most, a confused biker, a keyboard warrior.

But it’s OK, I’ve enjoyed everything I’ve done in my life, every phase. I’m happy that I’m not plundering the dirty laundry basket anymore to find a pair of not-absolutely-stinkingly-unwearable undies to wear for the day. I’m happy that I’m not dousing myself in water every half an hour in a rather stupid attempt to beat the heat. I’m happy that I can watch MotoGP without spending half a day attempting to connect to some spam website on my laptop.

I’ve started noticing quite a lot of negative comments about my work recently. I don’t think the number has gone up much since the last year, just that I’ve started thinking about this shit more. The most prominent argument against me seems to be this:

Real bikers don’t make fun of other bikers, they only respect them. Hence proved that I’m a butthole.

Either they are right, and I’m not a biker, and I couldn’t be happier. Who cares what I am? I do what I like, which keeps changing from time to time.

Or they are wrong, and there’s nothing butthole-like in calling a piece of shit a piece of shit.

The reason I’m inclined to think they are wrong is because that’s the same argument religious scum makes when you try to reason with them.

You don’t respect my God? Die infidel. 

But the real question here is WHY. I have above-average writing skills, am good with photos, and have good following in the biking scene. RiderZone could be a completely different website than what it is now, a useful, readable, safe-for-work blog that actually made some sense.

The 3 reasons why it is not are below.

1. Being a butthole is fun

There’s something remarkably uplifting about doing the wrong thing. Humans evolved, then a bunch of them decided a bunch of things were bad, and then decided never to do them again.

I don’t think enough people appreciate the fact that almost everything you interact with, obey, are afraid of, is man-made.

Life is tough, and it helps if people don’t expect anything from you. The way I do things, people love it when I fail. Everyone expects me to be rude, so much so that they almost get offended when they find me to be a rather nice guy. The moment I see a bunch of people on my side, I have that itch to move somewhere else.

There are no rules.

In a life like mine, you can do absolutely anything you want, and there’s nothing more fun than that.

2. Profanity is interesting

I like “bad” language, because there’s nothing inherently wrong with it. “Fuck” is like any other word, it’s just some alphabets that make you say a specific kind of sound that other people hear and then freak out. In the proper context, obscene words improve the meaning of your sentence.

I also like “bad” language, because it has a more personal touch. If I’m blasting the shit out of you with hitherto unheard of expletives and heinously foul language, I probably like you a lot.

But the most important reason why I like “bad” language is because I like it. This is the way I think, this is the way I talk, and hence this is the way I write. I don’t know why other people think and talk the same way, but then transform into some kind of politically correct pussey while writing.

3. Being different is everything

There’s no use being just like the next guy, what’s the damn point? Why compete with someone on a level playing field, especially when you don’t need to? Why compete at all?

The problem with our lives is that we are made to believe we are fighting against each other, that there’s not enough for everyone. The problem with our lives is that we are too scared of failing. The problem with our lives is that we yearn to, are forced to, get happy about doing what everyone else is doing, while trying our best to be slightly better at being someone else.

Your son got a job in an IT company? Fantastic!

Your son writes a blog that nobody reads? You must be so disappointed. Here’s some rat poison. 

Not many people appreciate the satisfaction in being different, in risk taking, in being an absolutely stupid lunatic. Are there moments of self-doubt? Does a chill run down your spine every morning? Are you scared of the future? Sure, totally, but is it any different than placing your life, your happiness, your time in some random person’s hands?

I think the easiest way to know if what you are doing is right or not, is to see how many others are doing it. If every second fucker you run into seems to be following the same path, it’s probably best to turn around.

Not everyone can do it, because the world needs people who are willing up to give up on their dreams to help build someone else’s. But if you have that burning desire to follow your heart, if you have that obsession to be different, if you have that need to be what you are, at least give yourself a chance.

I would like to leave you with the words of Hunter S. Thomson, who wrote this letter to a friend who asked him for advice about life.

April 22, 1958
57 Perry Street
New York City

Dear Hume,

You ask advice: ah, what a very human and very dangerous thing to do! For to give advice to a man who asks what to do with his life implies something very close to egomania. To presume to point a man to the right and ultimate goal — to point with a trembling finger in the RIGHT direction is something only a fool would take upon himself.

I am not a fool, but I respect your sincerity in asking my advice. I ask you though, in listening to what I say, to remember that all advice can only be a product of the man who gives it. What is truth to one may be disaster to another. I do not see life through your eyes, nor you through mine. If I were to attempt to give you specific advice, it would be too much like the blind leading the blind.

“To be, or not to be: that is the question: Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles … ” (Shakespeare)

And indeed, that IS the question: whether to float with the tide, or to swim for a goal. It is a choice we must all make consciously or unconsciously at one time in our lives. So few people understand this! Think of any decision you’ve ever made which had a bearing on your future: I may be wrong, but I don’t see how it could have been anything but a choice however indirect — between the two things I’ve mentioned: the floating or the swimming.

But why not float if you have no goal? That is another question. It is unquestionably better to enjoy the floating than to swim in uncertainty. So how does a man find a goal? Not a castle in the stars, but a real and tangible thing. How can a man be sure he’s not after the “big rock candy mountain,” the enticing sugar-candy goal that has little taste and no substance?

The answer — and, in a sense, the tragedy of life — is that we seek to understand the goal and not the man. We set up a goal which demands of us certain things: and we do these things. We adjust to the demands of a concept which CANNOT be valid. When you were young, let us say that you wanted to be a fireman. I feel reasonably safe in saying that you no longer want to be a fireman. Why? Because your perspective has changed. It’s not the fireman who has changed, but you. Every man is the sum total of his reactions to experience. As your experiences differ and multiply, you become a different man, and hence your perspective changes. This goes on and on. Every reaction is a learning process; every significant experience alters your perspective.

So it would seem foolish, would it not, to adjust our lives to the demands of a goal we see from a different angle every day? How could we ever hope to accomplish anything other than galloping neurosis?

The answer, then, must not deal with goals at all, or not with tangible goals, anyway. It would take reams of paper to develop this subject to fulfillment. God only knows how many books have been written on “the meaning of man” and that sort of thing, and god only knows how many people have pondered the subject. (I use the term “god only knows” purely as an expression.) There’s very little sense in my trying to give it up to you in the proverbial nutshell, because I’m the first to admit my absolute lack of qualifications for reducing the meaning of life to one or two paragraphs.

I’m going to steer clear of the word “existentialism,” but you might keep it in mind as a key of sorts. You might also try something called “Being and Nothingness” by Jean-Paul Sartre, and another little thing called “Existentialism: From Dostoyevsky to Sartre.” These are merely suggestions. If you’re genuinely satisfied with what you are and what you’re doing, then give those books a wide berth. (Let sleeping dogs lie.) But back to the answer. As I said, to put our faith in tangible goals would seem to be, at best, unwise. So we do not strive to be firemen, we do not strive to be bankers, nor policemen, nor doctors. WE STRIVE TO BE OURSELVES.

But don’t misunderstand me. I don’t mean that we can’t BE firemen, bankers, or doctors — but that we must make the goal conform to the individual, rather than make the individual conform to the goal. In every man, heredity and environment have combined to produce a creature of certain abilities and desires — including a deeply ingrained need to function in such a way that his life will be MEANINGFUL. A man has to BE something; he has to matter.

As I see it then, the formula runs something like this: a man must choose a path which will let his ABILITIES function at maximum efficiency toward the gratification of his DESIRES. In doing this, he is fulfilling a need (giving himself identity by functioning in a set pattern toward a set goal), he avoids frustrating his potential (choosing a path which puts no limit on his self-development), and he avoids the terror of seeing his goal wilt or lose its charm as he draws closer to it (rather than bending himself to meet the demands of that which he seeks, he has bent his goal to conform to his own abilities and desires).

In short, he has not dedicated his life to reaching a pre-defined goal, but he has rather chosen a way of life he KNOWS he will enjoy. The goal is absolutely secondary: it is the functioning toward the goal which is important. And it seems almost ridiculous to say that a man MUST function in a pattern of his own choosing; for to let another man define your own goals is to give up one of the most meaningful aspects of life — the definitive act of will which makes a man an individual.

Let’s assume that you think you have a choice of eight paths to follow (all pre-defined paths, of course). And let’s assume that you can’t see any real purpose in any of the eight. THEN — and here is the essence of all I’ve said — you MUST FIND A NINTH PATH.

Naturally, it isn’t as easy as it sounds. You’ve lived a relatively narrow life, a vertical rather than a horizontal existence. So it isn’t any too difficult to understand why you seem to feel the way you do. But a man who procrastinates in his CHOOSING will inevitably have his choice made for him by circumstance.

So if you now number yourself among the disenchanted, then you have no choice but to accept things as they are, or to seriously seek something else. But beware of looking for goals: look for a way of life. Decide how you want to live and then see what you can do to make a living WITHIN that way of life. But you say, “I don’t know where to look; I don’t know what to look for.”

And there’s the crux. Is it worth giving up what I have to look for something better? I don’t know — is it? Who can make that decision but you? But even by DECIDING TO LOOK, you go a long way toward making the choice.

If I don’t call this to a halt, I’m going to find myself writing a book. I hope it’s not as confusing as it looks at first glance. Keep in mind, of course, that this is MY WAY of looking at things. I happen to think that it’s pretty generally applicable, but you may not. Each of us has to create our own credo — this merely happens to be mine.

If any part of it doesn’t seem to make sense, by all means call it to my attention. I’m not trying to send you out “on the road” in search of Valhalla, but merely pointing out that it is not necessary to accept the choices handed down to you by life as you know it. There is more to it than that — no one HAS to do something he doesn’t want to do for the rest of his life. But then again, if that’s what you wind up doing, by all means convince yourself that you HAD to do it. You’ll have lots of company.

And that’s it for now. Until I hear from you again, I remain,

your friend,
Hunter

comments (20)

  • Reply

    August 7, 2015

    Were you high when you wrote this shit??? cos its good shit bro.. Its something I look forward to while rambling at my office every morning!!!! So keep it up man… Be eccentric. Never be a butt plug out of thousands of them catering to enterprises and their perverse foreplay…
    P.S: I loved your Honda article… I was planning to buy the cbr650f. But with the price, I am better off buying a harley and yell “fuck you all” while riding down the bangalore traffic. :P.. Cheers man…

  • Reply

    August 6, 2015

    Nice read man! Whatever you do, keep writing! 🙂

  • Reply

    August 4, 2015

    Everything is possible, no matter how horrific 🙂

  • Reply

    August 4, 2015

    I think it’s your new car talking for you.

    Beware, it is a DECEPTICON.

    • Reply

      August 4, 2015

      Damn I’m fucked then.

    • Reply

      August 6, 2015

      What the fuck, dude, a new car? Car ? You filthy, rotten, traitorous piece of canine turd, how could you!

  • Reply

    August 4, 2015

    Like if you scrolled down the letter without reading

  • Reply

    August 3, 2015

    What the fuck man..!! you’re gonna make me cry
    🙁

  • Reply

    August 3, 2015

    Still being in my engineering days, I hope my biking prime is yet to come.
    Going by what you’ve written about your changing priorities depending on time, the question staring in your face right now is, are you willing to quit all and completely resort to biking, or do you want a nice comfortable, predictable, boring domesticated life.

    Note: You’re old only if YOU feel so.

    • Reply

      August 4, 2015

      Aditya, if I am sure of one thing, it’s that life looks different to everyone. This is my story, my thoughts, my experience, but only you can find our own.

  • Reply

    August 3, 2015

    Who are you? and what have you done with Akhil? Akhil, did someone hacked your site???

  • Reply

    August 3, 2015

    Really deep mature shit mate
    And I came here hoping to read some utterly hilarious rant against REs and Harleys :p

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