Letter #2 (or, On the Death of Happiness by the hand of Capitalism)

Hello Alessio,

you’re very sharp on your social network picture.

I’m gonna tackle the triviality first, the you’ve changed bit. Yes, I did. I did my share of sport and gym during those years. Could I be the master of my time, had I the chance of choosing my every second, I’d surf all day. And read. And write. And play video games. All with the people I love around me. But I’m digressing, in the very first lines.

Of everything you’ve told me – Master, eulogy of intelligence, et cetera – the thing that gave me pleasure was to notice that you haven’t been idle. Look around yourself; everything is in motion. Everything, even what seems still. All is ever-transforming. Our own planet revolves around a star which spins in a galaxy that floats and moves itself in the almost infinite cosmos. Which is probably moving itself, at any rate, who knows where to.

But enough with cheap thoughts, let me jump in the middle of action. Here we are, with some short-phrases.

  1. Italy is dead.
  2. The western capitalism has its roots in exploiting people.
  3. They teach you money is the most important thing.
  4. I could go on and on but you could just (re)watch Fight Club.

Let’s start with an old-time favorite, the Capitalistic system. Of all the bullshit that we learn in school – and I start with the first grade, really -I mean, at least in preschool you learn all that coordination skills with fancy toys and games, that ain’t bad – I was saying, of all the bullshit we learn in school, during our formative years, how many people taught you to ask the one thing, the one real thing; what does make you happy?

Because, you might even find a great job in your twenties, with a six figures salary, and end up like Jason Bateman of American Psycho. Great interpretation by Christian Bale by the way, even though – of course – I loved the book more. But why is that? Because you’ll never have enough money. There’ll always be someone with a bigger house, a faster car, a hotter wife. And you’ll be stuck in thinking, if only I had a better car, a better job, fake plastic boobs, I’d be happy. Wrong. Fucking Wrong. Instead of Psycho Killer, listen to Once in a Lifetime – Talking Heads again – and you’ll get a glimpse.

So there’s a gap here. And my over-writing is not to avoid your questions, but to set the context. Because there’s a hidden question in your email, which is, What did I do wrong? – which you ask yourself during the day and that haunts you at night, when you’re in bed, and you can’t really sleep, because that’s when you’re alone and you’ve to face yourself, and you don’t want to, so maybe you’ll watch a movie or read a book and say Fuck you, brain.

I don’t want to justify ourselves, but we’ve a little excuse here: no one taught us how to be happy. Keep that in mind.

Don’t stop dreaming, Ale. Believe in yourself, in your dreams, in your passions. Don’t be afraid to create what you want to do instead of what they want you to do.

Don’t watch TV. It seems stupid, but TV is evil. It’s close-minded. Search for the real stuff around and don’t trust spoon-fed notions.

Come visit me. I’ve a great room for guests.

Here we are, my dear friend. I need to close. Apologies if I wrote so much, and believe me, I could have written more!

Looking forward to your next mail,

a hug!




8 thoughts on “Letter #2 (or, On the Death of Happiness by the hand of Capitalism)

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