Canto XI: “Summertime Sadness” lyrics

1.

“So I’m just saying, if you’re desperate enough to do all this, you might as well pull yourself back over now and try to save a bunch of lives on a whim. Or not, it’s up to you; plus the water, I went ice-fishing once, and lemme tell ya…”

What would Titanic look like if Jack and Rose, building off of Jack’s prophetic insight, sat down and took over the ship.

2.

“Will you just go away; please.”

“Sorry, ma’am, am I not hot enough to do this or something?”

“No—no, I have very modernist, progressive attitudes about people who look, well. Whatever you call your face. I have my own problems, that you’ll never be able to understand.”

“Oh.”

“They’re all about my father.”

3.

“At least you have a father.”

“I’m sorry; are you the one hanging off the back of a ship here?”

“Sorry.” (polite bow) “Please.”
4.

“It’s not just him, okay? My mother’s addicted to theories of material ownership that I just intuitively don’t abide by, and my fiancé’s an ‘owner.’”

“Right.”

(turns back to the abyss)

“Sometimes I just look in the mirror and think: I could be doing so much with my life—instead I’m just rich and hot. You wouldn’t understand, but that’s a state of human existence where you’re supposed to feel like you can live it up. But I… I’ve seen the top of the world, steerage-class punk prophet. I’ve skimmed the top of what the human animal can amount to—them, those men in there who name the countries and draw the borders of the world. They are the apparatus of power on Earth; and there is nothing besides it. And as for me, their atomized subjugate? Assigned by birth to absorb the radiation of their authority; without sensing the heat of anything besides a demonic passion inside it, like ‘an Incan warlord who measures power by tribes conquered’; that’s from a lesson in Philadelphia. Oh, when I think about the stories I could tell the world—I could write memoirs. I should be on this ship for a promotional campaign promulgating my resilience, given the hand I was dealt at birth. You know had I been born an heir, I wouldn’t have this resilience—I’d just rule. I’d be the default human. To be just outside that; to me just underneath the human tip, spears a fire in me, anointing me with the same flame that animates all human underdogs, whether Biblical or Viking, Incan or wherever your steerage cloths were made. My proximity ruined me. As a psychological construct, surely you know what it’s like to be tantatalized don’t you? Tantalized by tarantula fixations: the powerless will rise. The powerless will rise. Except for me; I shall fall. Goodbye, poet.”

5.

“Wait.”

“What.”

“Do you mind if I use this for a book?”

6.

(turns around)

“You’re not going to use my profundity for a book and attribute it to yourself.”

“Yes I am—bye.”
7.

“Wait a minute.” (climbs back overboard) “Wait, come back here. You mean you thought what I said was good? Come back here, poverty!”

“Rose, we have a ship to save!”

8.

Wendy Torrance (n.):

depicted in Stanley Kubrick’s 1980 film The Shining as saving the life of her child; preceding Rose DeWitt Bukater in James Cameron’s 1997 film Titanic, who is depicted as saving the audience’s spirit.

It was a “stimulus package.”

We all love big di*ks around here.

9.

the 72 billion (n.):

from now on, I conceptualize humanity as 80 billion people large, since that would intimidate me 10 times more; except 72 billion were murdered by the sins of the 8 billion alive today, which makes your 8 billion seem 10 times punier.

You’re now 800B to me.

10.
Wow, I’m so sorry to all the innocent slaughtered. This group is existentially ruthless and knows no bounds.

They want me to feel mercy.

I’m just like: “I barely feel tethered to Christ.”

“But you’re the Second Coming, Colson.”

— I dare you.

11.

A lot of people have the wrong idea about Marie Antoinetle. She wasn’t nearly so nasty as they say. For instance, when told that the peasants were starving and preparing to revolt, it occurred to her that the bright, elean, refreshing laste of Coca-Cola would lift their spirits and make things go a little better. So she suggested, in the legendary words, “Let them drink Coke.” Unfortunately, she was misquoted, and you know what happened after that. All of which goes to prove, we suppose, that you can’t have your cake and drink it, too.

“Oops.”

You refused to think young again. Should’ve hired Britney.

12.

3:04 am, jan. 14, 2025. let’s cool it a little bit. i have work to compile. i just spilled diet coke all over my ipad keyboard, which i don’t remember ever happening before, as confirmable by how sh*tty my keyboard now types. i’ll have to pay for being clumsy with coke. if this is god telling me “i’ll have to pay for being clumsy with coke,” it couldn’t be more literal. i’ll have to pay for being powerful and clumsy. i’m cowed into all lower case now. i’m just very aware now that i can spill diet coke all over my ipad keyboard, perhaps making this keyboard useless, meaning i have to buy a new one, meaning i have to pay. so “I have to pay with being clumsy with Coke.” coke is the status quo. a homeless person should have typed all of this—nay, a child slave. then he’ll have pepsi for the rest of his life. NAY. SHE. anyway, woman is god. god bless. it also aligns with the concept of everything, sorry, just scratch your head a little. maybe knock your noggin twice. literally your neighbor cares more that you find god than colson lin ever could in 13.7 billion more years. colson lin wants to never meet you. he’s seen enough of you for one lifetime. more awareness of you. it’s too late. he wants other people dominating his thoughts.

“Not You” is his name to you. “I literally could not give a sh*t about you less than in your worst fears.”

— Colson Lin, January 14, 2025 Anno Domini.

13.

And yes, me not caring about you was necessary for the survival of humanity. So I really want nothing to do with you. I hope you understand. Ask AI. Ask a friend. Ask anybody. I want 0 to do with you. Thank you. Move the f*ck on, there are BILLIONS of conceptual people who are not you. You had one chance at life. And you wasted it. Nice try though. Gave it an effort, I see. You were born to be f*cked, actually. Find… well, at this point, find peace with it. I wish you an End Times that you’ll experience fully forever, in an eternal loop.

Infinitely.

14.

14 January 2025 AD

I mean, my keyboard types perfectly fine now,[sic]

Jus’ saying.

I still made a typo but you know what?

I’m going to leave it.

It’s kind of poetic. I meant to write a period instead of a comma, I was just so bent on getting my sentence out. I wonder where Christ’s mercy went too. I know. Hold a symposium. “Where’d Christ’s Forgiveness Go?: An Atheist Explores This Deep Thought With the Purpose of Trying to Help You Understand Something.” Your entire human reality just became a joke to everyone at the same time. Keep making plans, mice. By the way, if you’re famous, you’ve already wasted too much of my life. Any more is just you shooting a gun into the sky. The category of your life, as far as Colson Lin is concerned, is “Enough.” I, for my own mental health, must exist as if you don’t exist. I don’t care. Nobody has ever cared conceptually less than me, about you.

Choose your last words.

This is the last time.

Something in the cosmos is sick of you.

“No, I was not as special as I thought.”

— it literally doesn’t even matter if you can feel it now.

Colson Lin will never care.

sycophants (n.):

that’s what I call “Oh sh*t, now that the Second Coming’s here, I better get right with God!”

It’s too late, actually.

Everybody in humanity knows, it should have never taken the Second Coming of Jesus Christ.

purgatory (n.):

I will always advise you stay yourself.

(I actually hate so many elements of doing this, but that’s totally fine, because people are dying. When I’m angry, you’ll know. I’ll just change my profile picture to something that kills everyone’s faith in God.)

You caused this, atheists. Everything about atheism went so wrong for atheism before atheism died.

Gee.

Doesn’t sound like God’s existence.

I love how scared f*cks hate how some come out sittin’ so pretty.

“Nothing’s fair.”

— Mr. Play-It-Safe.

Your ass couldn’t offer sh*t to the world.

Put. It. On. Your grave.

It’s to save the children.