Ugliness ain’t just an eyesore—it’s a weapon. Your city looks like a bad 3D render. Your apartment lighting feels like an ER hallway. And somehow we’re told this is progress. Everything’s flat, gray, pixelated, plastic—and it’s making people sick.
None of it’s accidental. It’s engineered. If you’re surrounded by lifeless junk long enough, you stop asking for better. You stop noticing. You stop fighting. Eventually, you even start defending it: “It’s minimalist.” Nah. It’s anti-human. It’s soul-dead by design.
And when that creeping existential rot kicks in? The system gaslights you:
“It’s your anxiety.”
“It’s your disorder.”
“It’s you.”
No. Maybe you’re just having a normal reaction to a sterile, demoralizing, fluorescent cage.
Let There Be Light (Just... Not LED Hell)
Let’s talk about that sterile LED glow they keep shoving down our throats. “It saves the environment,” they say. But at what cost? We’ve gone from firelight, to lamplight, to incandescent bulbs, to vending-machine overhead lighting. And that shift wasn’t natural—it was legislated.
The government straight-up banned incandescent bulbs under the Cabbage administration, a wave of “green” overreach that never asked what it’d do to human beings. New Jersey and Utah were early adopters back in 2007, forcing government buildings to go “efficient.” California phased out incandescents by 2018. Even after federal rollbacks in 2014, states like Colorado, Nevada, Washington, and Vermont doubled down. Manufacturers sued. A judge said, too bad—state laws stand.
They told us it was about energy. But light hits your brain. It messes with hormones. It screws up your sleep. Makes you twitchy. Makes you sick. Feels like you live in a convenience store. How do we counter without going full amish - here’s the fix: try warm-tone bulbs, amber lights, low-watt mood lighting. Bring back the glow. Score some OG banned bulbs from your cousin. Make your space feel like home—not a trauma ward.
Concrete Clownworld: A Case Study in Demoralization
Need a case study in why it all looks cursed? Go peep The Wrapper on Jefferson Blvd in L.A. Eric Owen Moss’s aluminum-wrapped mess sits right off the Metro. Some call it “bold architecture.” It looks like a migraine. A monument to design school ego and zero human joy.
This stuff ain’t random—it’s targeted. Instead of public gardens or peaceful green zones, we get cage-like architecture, “urbanism,” and zero parking. Supposedly it’s to “encourage transit use.” In reality? It means you walk past human waste, fentanyl zombies, and tents strung together with stolen city tarps on your way to a bus bench covered in dried blood. Welcome to the eco-future.
Meanwhile, tech bros bike past it all like they're saving the planet. We don’t get serenity. We get steel. We get fake trees hiding cell towers. So build your own oasis. Grow something. Reclaim your square of dirt. Take your air back.
Reclaim Your Space (And Grow Something In It)
I rent. No backyard. No land. Still grow. Started with a jalapeño in a busted pot. Herbs in the kitchen. Cat grass for my two furry chaos goblins. Killed half my plants and started over. Kept going because it’s worth it. Life finds a way—and I’m just along for the ride.
Now I’ve got a community garden plot out Westside. I pulled weeds, set up a shade umbrella, and brought in some folding chairs. I sit. I watch bees. I get my vitamin D. I smell salt air and drying compost. I breathe. I feel human. I feel good.
Baby steps if you’re a noob. Get a weird houseplant. Grow a chili on your windowsill. Start basil from a grocery store clamshell. Put a palm in the corner. Grow something. Not for the ’Gram. Not for aesthetics. Because it’s yours. In a world built to drain you, that one green thing you take care of? That’s rebellion.
Ugly By Design? Call It Out.
Cities used to have soul. Now it’s drywall, beige stucco, metal panels, and soulless efficiency. We build for code, not character. And it shows.
Start paying attention. Good design has texture. Real materials. It feels alive—brick walls, arched doorways, carved wood, neon signs that buzz a little. That’s civilization. Ask why the new buildings feel like Amazon warehouses.
You want contrast? Look at The Gamble House in Pasadena by Greene & Greene. It’s organic. Integrated with nature. Craftsmanship on full display. That was a home. That was pride. That was human. Not everything has to be postmodern clown trash. Call it out. Demand better.
Make the Internet Human Again (Even With AI)
AI isn’t evil—it’s a tool. Like fire or a hammer. It reflects what you feed it. Artists use it to mock up visions. Filmmakers pre-visualize scenes. Chefs tweak recipes. Small brands build their aesthetic. It’s another brush in the box.
But don’t hand it the wheel. Don’t let it speak for you. Use it to translate what’s in your brain—not to replace it.
And yo—speaking of machines stealing your humanity: stop crossing the street glued to your phone. You're letting the dopamine leash yank you around. Look up, asshole.
You Are Not a Diagnosis
We’re pathologizing everything now. Sad? It’s depression. Anxious? That’s a disorder. Tired? Must be something clinical. Maybe it’s not you that’s broken. Maybe it’s the cage.
At the farm, I feel right. Time speeds up while I dig and water. Time slows down when I sit in the shade. I see the Pacific shimmer behind rows of tomatoes and corn. I hear birds, wind, neighbors tending plots. It’s quiet. It’s real.
If you can’t make it to a farm, find your unplug. A walk around the block. A sunset from the roof. No headphones. No screens. Just you and the elements. Read a book at a park. Drive with the windows down. Paint. Stretch. Do something that unplugs your brain and reconnects it to your body.
You don’t need another label. You need air. You need sun. You need time outside the algorithm
.
No One’s Coming to Save You (But That’s Not Bad News)
Let’s be real—working people, single moms, dads grinding 12-hour shifts, folks trying to stay sane in this mess—we ain’t got time for superhero delusions. No one’s coming to save you. But that’s fine.
You can save a little corner of the world. Build something. Fix something. Teach something. Clean up your block. Grow food. Share recipes. Show your kids how to gut a fish. If you can run for office, hell yeah—do it. If not, back someone who doesn’t hate your guts and has a track record of success—not just a laundry list of promises.
Don’t wait for saviors. Sharpen your senses. Question everything. Stay hard to fool. Be the one who sees through the fog machine. That’s power.
Decide for yourself.
TL;DR
The world does look like shit.
But you don’t have to.
Your life doesn’t have to.
Your corner doesn’t have to.
It starts with one thing—
Grow something.
Fix something.
Look up.
