Nice and liquored up. Thank you God for the friends who have readily available booze at hand. Italian food sounded wonderful, so I went for a slice of cheese and a meatball sub. I feel a vague masochistic bite scratching me behind the ear. He's so cute sometimes like that. I swat him away and just try to isolate the isolation of a numbed mind.

Yes I might well be fucked, but I'm drunk to a grand degree right now, so what in the world should I worry about? It'll resolve itself. It just involves how pathetic and concilliatory I want to make myself. Hopefully this isn't the breaking point, the time the visions keep reminding me about where everything and everyone falls by my ears like hair sheared off by rusty scissors.

"Closer to God" by NiN...describes my mood somewhat, if lacking in the utterly hopeless, a slug would feel lovely inside my eyeball right now feeling. I think Swans is better. They've got a number of excellent songs that describe my mood at the moment..

"And I, I've been lonely,

And I, I've been blind,

And I, I've learned nothing,

So my hands are firmly tied,

To the sinking,

lead weight,

of failure...

"I've worked hard all my life,

Money slips through my hands,

My face in the mirror tells me,

It's no surprise that I am...

Pushing the stump,

Up the hill of failure...

And they tempt me with violence,

And they punish me with ideals,

And they crush me with an image of my life,

That's nothing but unreal...

'cept on the goddamn,

slave ship..of failure...

And I'll drown here trying,

To get up for some air,

But each time I think I breathe,

I'm laid on with a double share...

Of the punishing,

Burden,

Of failure...

I don't deserve to be down here,

But I'll never leave,

And I, I've learned one thing,

You can't escape...the beast...

In the knowing,

void pit of failure...

Mmmmhmm hmmm..."

It goes on for awhile. The song describes how I feel about life in general, usually. I try to make you laugh or at least think of something that doesn't involve me stuck in a pit of depression, isolation, and the occasional suicidally driven thought. It's not only over-done, Pain and depression like this..it's cheap, shoddy, like a two-bit whore with pink lip gloss. I mean really, what kind of atmosphere and, above all, impression do you leave with a pink "O" blow? Not much.

So I'm utterly indifferent at this point, nursing a bottle of some very nasty, but damn effective, where the fuck is that bottle...damnit...ah yeah, here. "Ouzo." I love the Greeks, I love Omega even more for making it so that I don't have to cry myself to sleep tonight. If that's at all pathetic, you try seeing 10 weeks of work blow up in your face because of some god damned computer timing issue. My clock said 11:59. This bottle says 40%, not just 40 proof. Score.

It's a "product of Greece." You know if they can produce millenia popular traditions of philosophic inquiry, they can sure as hell get you drunk off your ass.

As Python puts it, "Aristotle, Aristotle, was a beggar for the bottle, Hobbes was fond of his dram, and Renis Descarte was a drunk fart, I drink therefore I am." So there's just one Greek. He's a biggie. Case not proven. Wee.

So what to dedicate this moment to...

Life, fuck you. Fuck you for reminding me every day that I'm never good enough for what you want or anyone else quite wants. If I could be a brain in a glass-case, complete with my own oxygen rich fluid out of The Abyss, I'd vivisect (like dissect, but alive) myself and just float all day. I feel like Ender from Ender's Game sometimes...as if absolutely noone says a single word of encouragement just to make me realize my fullest potential. It feels like I'm dying sometimes..but a "good luck" wouldn't kill you or me, would it?

Your reminders, notices, and warnings are absolutely lovely. Amidst this petty drunk rambling, I love those of you who know me. As an aside not pertaining to you, isn't it a cute commentary on modern society how I have to nearly kill myself to gain any sympathy or the chance to really speak to someone?

I got a squeeze and a bottle of booze because I said I felt suicidal. How absolutely gorgeous is that? I don't know if it's the irony or the gifts that makes me excited.

Maybe I could get some real one on one time if I decide to balance a chainsaw on my chin while sobbing about being raped in the ass by some escaped tangerine. Fruits from prison, man.. especially those citrus ones.

Maybe we're all encouraging emotional sensitivity and the inability to deal with our problems in any effective manner. It almost feels like people want you to be less than you can be, that it makes them more comfortable and should make you more comfortable. Drop out of college, sure...go for that guy who beats you because he loves you...yeah, you can make it on your own without an education or savings...year after year I see my friends fall by the wayside and die while they're still breathing. I just smell them and it's like a corpse. All that time, all that instruction...wasted, absolutely wasted with their over-zealous compromises to life.

I'm killing myself for my dream, what about you?

What gets me is the idea that it's all just resources and goods. That friends are a function of genetic simmilarity and the wanting of seeing those genes passed on...that romantic love is just a selfish concern with securing your own immortality by putting some other poor bastard on this God forsaken planet.

To people I don't know. I like you for reading this stuff. The idea that what I have to say is important enough for you to take time out of your day to enjoy astounds me. Pleases me to no end. I sincerely mean that.

"When I get my hands on some money,

I'll kiss its green skin,

And I'll ask it,

Dirty face,

Where the hell have you been?

I'm the fuel,

That fires,

The engines of failure"

The fuel of the engines of failure. Maybe I'm just cogniscent napalm for derilects in the night seas.

I'm going to sleep with my "Ouzo" tonight. I can imagine it's a midget cat. It'll purr as it sloshes from side to side. My precious pussy cat to give me little face licks in the middle of the night. Daddy loves you.

previous - next