I have to vent because lately the game has changed and things seem different and there isn't much rum left so I might as well down the rest of that bottle. I can admit that I'm drunk and not screw things up. I can look at you with pursed lips and not even stumble when I'm drunker than you've ever been. I'm young, too.
The world is ending and fast. The world is dying and fast. We the writers are just sort of ignoring this in hopes that things will turn out all right, and perhaps they will. Perhaps they will.
But why should I make such a huge statement about things when all I'm really trying to say is that even though it shouldn't it bothers me that this girl doesn't want me as badly as I thought? Or perhaps she does but it is, in the end, as most things are, quite beside the point. God my head is killing me. I want to swear but Dorothee would delete this.
I do all the things they told us not to coming up. I smoke; drink coffee; drink; drugs; don't sleep much; etc. I do all these things, go to the lengths, and I know that I will never be satisfied. Sometimes I fear I'll have an embolism and that will be the end of me. But somewhere deep inside I know that's for suckers, that fear. I lose jobs and find them again. I listen to dirty music and think dirty thoughts. I jerk off when I feel like it and rarely keep my house as orderly as I would like to.
Sometimes I think that being creative is a sort of madness; and often I wonder if it really is a choice or not. Is it, this a-type torture I find myself constantly under, this self-imposed drive to succeed succeed succeed, something we are born with? I want to know but I probably never will. When the answers were being passed out my ashtray was shaking under an earth quake. I'd like to quit smoking but I don't want to. I'd like to quit all the things that are taking my life away, including working and living itself, but I don't want to. I just want to survive and listen to Billy Joel sing of Vienna. I just want to succeed.
Mostly these days what is driving me nuts is my complete lack of women in my life. It's not that I don't know how, it's not that I can't, it's just that I'm too damn lazy to go out and get what I want.
Yes, lately the game has changed and I don't know if I can change with it again.
1 comment:
Do not be so desperate. Leave outside, smell the air of the ground, sky, sea. Be rather made suffer by doing sport. Then swallow a large milk bowl swallows with cereals.
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