It’s really easy to write stuff when I’m in this state of
mind. On the border of sad and lonely, maybe just a tiny little hungry nation
on the side.
I was thinking (you will come to realize that that’s
something I do a lot) and I thought “What is it that makes life good? Like,
really fucking grand.
If I had a myriad of friends and went to all the coolest
parties, would my life be good?
If I had money to buy all the newest and techiest gizmos and
gadgets, then would my life be good?
If I had an extremely banging body? (Note to self: Work out
you lazy fucktard)
If I had a fancy English clip? Or something exotic like
Palauan?
I actually took that one myself, not to shabby Mel, not too shabby.
…
If I had someone who loved me. All of me, as a whole; not
just singular body parts and instead of wanting to do things to me, wanted to
do things with me?
Then would I be happy?
And you know there’s that voice in your head that’s like, “Dude,
if it makes you feel crappy then just get rid of it or change it.” If only it
were that easy, child. If only.
Remember that Nick Hornby book where the main character kept
making lists the same way other people had opinions? I thought (again, I do
that a lot) “That’s a great fucking idea” I can make lists of things I want,
things I don’t want, things I like, things I hate and so forth then it would be
easy to know what to add, subtract and change in my life. Easy A.
But listen, read child! It’s not that simple. I look
at list and list looks back at me, both of us going, “Now what? Stick it on my
bedroom wall? Post it on my blog that might as well be on private settings? Now
what? You fucking twat.”
You can’t really do anything about it because most of your
problems are either really metaphysical or highly dialectic.
-For my fellow simple people, it means my non-absorbable by
tissue issues either come from within or outside forces. I love you simple
people!xx-
And I sound like the shallowest Shally Shallowa McShallow from
Shallovale everytime I try to speak of them out loud. Heck, sometimes I don’t
even know what the fuck my problem is…like now.
So I’m gonna stop here because I think (Stop thinking!) I’m gonna stop making sense if I go on, if I
haven’t done (or not done) that already.
I need a spliff.
