Sometimes I want to tell the antinatalist types to just shut the fuck up already and stop being so whiny! At the same time, I'm not wholly unsympathetic to that which they are propagating. I suppose I am weary of the universalization involved in at least some manifestations of antinatalism: non-existent entities cannot be deprived of anything, coming into being constitutes or will involve harm and suffering, always and everywhere "imposing" life and bringing children into the world is wrong. I'm weary of the conclusion, being more prone to perhaps accept a pragmatic contextualism as regards the matter. In my discussions with the local community college antinatalists, one of the more frustrating things I have run into is this: they are, as the position demands, moral realists, and yet refuse to establish the underpinnings of the said realism. They talk of moral obligation as against personal desire, attitudes, etc, and do nothing to even attempt to ground their normative claims; in short, in the face of said prescriptivity, and in the absence of defense, one can always fall back into moral nihilism, denying that there are prescriptive moral facts. (I'll have babies of I want to dammit!)
Anyways, suicide. It's been on my mind. I do realize now, after so many years of having a suicidal disposition, that I am an entity that can actually end its own cognitive processes. I find myself dreaming of suicide almost constantly.
1) What about my children? Indeed. I would like to think of myself as an honorable....not honorable. Not the right word. I suppose I believe in fidelity, even in this age of decadence and structural collapse. But Jesus Christ, how long can one go on living one's life out of a sense of duty? None too fun
2) Horror stories. Our bodies are pretty damn tough. People have survived self inflicted point blank gunshot wounds, even shotgun blasts; the gun is angled wrong against the temple, blows out one's eyes, leaves the brain intact. Plastic surgery. Brainstem, basic regulatory structures are left in tact, higher order functioning is obliterated. One has the pleasure of living one's life as a vegetable. Hell, a man can't even go the old: vehicular suicide via exhaust fumes route due to catalytic converters....guess one has to break out the ole charcoal grill.
3) It's late. Tired. Nothing profound to offer. I am actually quite disgusted with myself for even bringing up the issue (as it relates to myself) here. That voice, (probably comes from my father....'pain goes away son, tough it out in the until then')enters my mind: would you just quit being such a whiny sack of shit and just get it over with already! Stop trying to add the elements of some kind of epoch unfolding into the mix. A body encased in a pine box, tossed into a ditch. There are hesitancies, perhaps in the end, it goes back to God, the whole Karamazovian 'rejecting the ticket' business. Understanding: identity is relational. To kill oneself is to kill the entire world. <-- wishful thinking? Who knows.