Sunday, July 10, 2005

Listen for the sausage that ISN'T served.

Who would want to read the rantings of a man who is a self-loathing, neurotic nihilist? Of a man whose entire philosophical and spiritual outlook is couched in the belief that his life is of no consequence among the living, and that he will soon become nothing upon his death?

No one really likes that shit, which is why so few people claim to be fans of independent French cinema. Even among the coffee house crowd, most people are talking about sex, art, college and careers. I've spent enough time in Someday Cafe to know that the quality of overheard conversation is excellent, and wonderful works of art hang on the wall. But even on the darkest, coldest, bleakest February evening, most people would rather nail their genitals to a car battery than listen to a depressive complain about his or her existential plight.

I'm fond of the notion that nobody is reading the musings posted to this web-blog. At least I am half the time. The other half, I want everyone to read them. It's annoying, but I'm not concerned with that may be annoying right now. Today I find myself in a horrible depression, and am beyond even music for comfort. I'm listening to music right now, but I don't really hear it. Stop the presses.

My lips ache from biting them, which I do whenever I get nervous and/or depressed. As a result, I do it often. I'm dirty, my body feels very, very wrong, and I just want to sleep, but I can't. So many people get up on a Sunday morning and go out for brunch, and then read the paper while listening to music they don't listen to the rest of the week. Or watch televised news shows that exude a rarefied air, as if what they show is of greater importance than what is seen on the news every night of the week. Imagine being a musician playing at a "Jazz brunch," surrounded by people who never, ever listen to Jazz except when it's accompanied by Canadian bacon and waffles. That has to be Hell for someone. Heaven and Hell are right here on Earth, it's all a question of timing and location.

I think I'm going to take my psychiatric medications for the day. Marijuana and Vicodin would help, but they won't give it to me. Aspirin will help the headache go away, though, and I have that. Happy Sunday, is somebody's birthday.

1 comment:

The Bionic 1 said...

If it will make you feel better, someone just read your blog. I happened on it by clicking the upper right hand corner where it says "next blog". 1 of millions can come up, and yours did.
Man, you need some Zocor or something. Cheer up.