People need to die as long as they have
the capacity to experience perpetual and potentially unending woe. It
taken four days of pumping a depressant substance into my body, but
hopefully we’ll reach a fun catch-all happy sentiment by the end.
Doubt it.
One of my biggest problems is
complacency. Complacency speaks to redundancy. Redundancy implies
predictions. Take Dot Dot Dot. Good group of people. Talented
musicians. They love their craft and the people who come out to see
them. They play the same shit. They are a cover band. They got really
good at taking other peoples’ idea and dancing behind it all. The
same vigor and awesomeness I experienced my first round with the band
is forever lost as long as they are just a cover band.
Next round: conversations.
I’ve reached the point in any and all
conversations I have where I “cock-block” myself. Let me explain
why. I have no interest in playing the game that makes you think I’m
witty and attractive. I don’t want to deliberately phrase something
or “accidentally” do or look a certain way that queues you up. So
I go out, get in cool conversations, and as fun as it may be to go
down some perverted track, I just pick that point to explain how and
why it could go down that track. My saving grace is that the
conversations are always different when the subject is that person’s
history. It just feels hopelessly weird to be so fucking bored with
it all. I either want to be extremely belligerently angry, or give
the fuck up. And odds are, it’ll be a while before I give up.
I can’t think of a more depressing
thought than to not be surprised anymore. I think I avoid
conversations because of this fact. When I see how someone is just
hardcore failing at something, but it’s the exact same way the last
fifteen assholes I talked to are failing, it just depresses me. I’m
lucky I have a perspective to know that five days of a depressant
liquid are making me sound cynical and feeling like utter shit, but
knowing the feeling exists just sucks so much ass. I would hate to
think of the implications of a little bitch who feels this way. Or
better said, the majority of people who don’t have the knowledge
that they’re going to feel better eventually.
Final battle: recent events.
Old friends are back in town. So much
time lost with people that I never had a problem with and never had a
problem with me. Psychopathic cunt to blame? Geographical
circumstances? I really want to stress to people. Particularly if
you’ve never read my shit and stumbled upon this wondering how and
why we’re “friends” on facebook. It isn’t hard for me to
forget you. It isn’t hard for me to cut ties. I’ve actually
recently learned of the neuronal basis that could account for my
learned indifference. (Fun shit I need to learn more about) My point
being, if we’re friends: If I give you the time of day: If
regardless of everything I could ever hate about this life, and your
being, and my thoughts, and whatever the fuck else excuse I might
like to use for my actions….and I still manage to do you a favor,
help you with some problem, or invite you out for whatever, I really
give a fuck. I’ll probably kill myself the day I don’t think the
fuckers I call friends realize that.
So here it is. Another digression
amongst others. Like I had a choice, right? ;)
