“The problem was you had to keep choosing between one evil or another, and no matter what you chose, they sliced a little bit more off you, until there was nothing left. At the age of 25 most people were finished. A whole god-damned nation of assholes driving automobiles, eating, having babies, doing everything in the worst way possible, like voting for the presidential candidates who reminded them most of themselves. I had no interests. I had no interest in anything. I had no idea how I was going to escape. At least the others had some taste for life. They seemed to understand something that I didn't understand. Maybe I was lacking. It was possible. I often felt inferior. I just wanted to get away from them. But there was no place to go.”
-Charles BukowskiI've got no idea what the fuck to do.
Not now. Not in ten minutes. Not in ten years. Not ever.
No enthusiasm. No joy. No fun. Even the most basic conversation a struggle. Always tired but can't ever sleep.
No time to do too much and too much time to do nothing.
No idea what to write. Can't put words together. Once you think you can write good and pretty, writer's block really kills the ego. Makes you feel like less of a man.
Mitt Romney is about to become president. (Though he certainly doesn't remind anybody of themselves, the man he's running against is black. Gasp! Is he also Muslim? Is he socialist for a welfare state? Does he give a slight shit about poor people? The horror!)
Football season is almost over.
Got damn. Life sucks.
It isn't that bad, I know I know. Just average first world pains combined with a mild strain of seasonal depression. The aimless and absurd ups and downs of middle-class American youth. One huge glut of insecurities to swallow and digest and shit out and swallow again. Nothing that hasn't passed before and won't pass again.
Shit, man. There really ain't anything to do but wake up and eat and try and make friends particularly girls and usually fail and feel bad and get happy and sleep and rinse and repeat and get ready to fuck the world all over again because life doesn't wait and there are mountains beyond mountains to climb.
Blogging Rule #437: Always end a shitty, pretentious post with an equally pretentious song vaguely related to the point you were vaguely trying to make but vaguely failed to articulate. The song will do all your 'splaining much better.
No comments:
Post a Comment