Power to the People! Drunk folks are innaresting, aren't they. Normally muted souls erupt in the neon showers. I get contact highs of them, rubbing shoulders with the wasted masses - because even when my brain is sodden with various poisons, self-reflection is still the greatest thing I've tried. I wish it were as easy for me as it seems to be for them. To let go, let the good times roll, tell 'em 'Dre "it ain't nuttin' but muuuuusic".
Vicarious joy is still joy though and greed is no part of me. I have other gifts. <wiggles fingers>
Never you mind.
*
Like a rabid cheetah - just run with it. I have an extraordinary propensity for ordinariness - if that is in fact a word - and it is a propensity I find extraordinary purely for it's shiny new-ness, I suspect. Unusual? Not really. And there, as pompous tweed wearers might say - is the rub. Rub me tender, rub me true. Elvis knew what he was on about. Except when he was talking about ghettos.
At the end of the day I don't REALLY care about much. I like to be liked - hideous trait, if it took corporeal form I'd crucify it while laughing and capering, even if it does keep me humble. For a given value of that term. But I'm unsure if that actually translates as my being a worthy soul. I'm very myopic. I'm very sun-kissed and tropic. I hate canned laughter but am quite fond of the tuna. Marrow of the bone of this story - I'm beginning to find myself even less interesting than other people. This is something I never thought I'd live to see. I mean - unnoticed death after an unremarkable life filled with missed opportunities and abused acquaintances - yes, obviously, but I always assumed I'd still be firmly in my corner when the curtain came crumbling down. Still chanting my own name with a silly grin plastered onto my charmingly symmetrical features.
Other people have real problems, I'm not about to grow a fringe about any of this but in the quiet times between Mars Volta songs certain truths do seem to snigger a little more insistently. Where are all your riches, the silence seems to say. Surely you should have riches by this stage. And bitches! Where are they all at? Timeless questions.
I comfort myself though - frequently - by reminding myself of all my myriad responsibilities. That might sound strange but so do underwater conversations. Responsibilties to all my selves, and all their children. And sometimes when things get truly dark I will think about Starcraft.
And how my life simply cannot be allowed to end until I suck a great deal less than I do. Advice for Survival - that one's on the house :)
Vicarious joy is still joy though and greed is no part of me. I have other gifts. <wiggles fingers>
Never you mind.
*
Like a rabid cheetah - just run with it. I have an extraordinary propensity for ordinariness - if that is in fact a word - and it is a propensity I find extraordinary purely for it's shiny new-ness, I suspect. Unusual? Not really. And there, as pompous tweed wearers might say - is the rub. Rub me tender, rub me true. Elvis knew what he was on about. Except when he was talking about ghettos.
At the end of the day I don't REALLY care about much. I like to be liked - hideous trait, if it took corporeal form I'd crucify it while laughing and capering, even if it does keep me humble. For a given value of that term. But I'm unsure if that actually translates as my being a worthy soul. I'm very myopic. I'm very sun-kissed and tropic. I hate canned laughter but am quite fond of the tuna. Marrow of the bone of this story - I'm beginning to find myself even less interesting than other people. This is something I never thought I'd live to see. I mean - unnoticed death after an unremarkable life filled with missed opportunities and abused acquaintances - yes, obviously, but I always assumed I'd still be firmly in my corner when the curtain came crumbling down. Still chanting my own name with a silly grin plastered onto my charmingly symmetrical features.
Other people have real problems, I'm not about to grow a fringe about any of this but in the quiet times between Mars Volta songs certain truths do seem to snigger a little more insistently. Where are all your riches, the silence seems to say. Surely you should have riches by this stage. And bitches! Where are they all at? Timeless questions.
I comfort myself though - frequently - by reminding myself of all my myriad responsibilities. That might sound strange but so do underwater conversations. Responsibilties to all my selves, and all their children. And sometimes when things get truly dark I will think about Starcraft.
And how my life simply cannot be allowed to end until I suck a great deal less than I do. Advice for Survival - that one's on the house :)
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