now what?
Ahhh! Why do I hate writing in this damn thing these days. So many reasons, like I care if any of you know how introverted I am. My mind isn't dead but who cares if you know about it. Lets talk about how lonely, upset, dismay, or lost in the society that molded the melancholy within yourself. Well, enough of that I am getting off subject.
So . . .
The whole graduation thing when off like a gas. School came and went and left me back where I started. I did laps and laps, but the starting line keeps rising over the horizon. I'm talking about my parent's house people. I can't help but think about that line in Fight Club where Tyler talks about his future in reference to asking his dad on the phone. "So I graduate from college and then call my dad up, 'now what dad?'"
So now I, Jason, graduate from college and ask you what next? Job? The Career? Then find that girl and get married, have children, they grow up, they go to college and ask the same questions. Am I just a code consisting of zeros and ones that define an American Status Quo? This capitalist society is just a facade for routine and self regulating communism. Well, maybe not entirely commie, but you get my point.
So . . .
Now I run around like a track star. I run a relay just like in the summer Olympics. However, my relay is me handing off my book to whomever or where ever hoping they will hand my book off to someone else with the final goal being that art director job I always wanted. It is just a damn shame I have to keep running with this large bulky portfolio, which I must say is incredibly fragile. Those Olympians have it easy, carrying those small hand-sized wands they pass along. I am sure there is a gold medal somewhere . . . I mean job.
So . . .
It is all about my book, all about those damn ideas that float in my head that will never come out exactly how I see them. It is all about who you know and how you know them. It is all about what you can do for people. It is not a nice world out there, just a very self-interested one. No one is looking to just help you out. You scratch their back and maybe they will scratch yours . . . and I have these pathetic fingernails that are hardly satisfying. I just know my competition has a nice Egyptian authentic back-scratcher. Damn these puny nails of mine.
At least there are movies like Delicatessen
So . . .
The whole graduation thing when off like a gas. School came and went and left me back where I started. I did laps and laps, but the starting line keeps rising over the horizon. I'm talking about my parent's house people. I can't help but think about that line in Fight Club where Tyler talks about his future in reference to asking his dad on the phone. "So I graduate from college and then call my dad up, 'now what dad?'"
So now I, Jason, graduate from college and ask you what next? Job? The Career? Then find that girl and get married, have children, they grow up, they go to college and ask the same questions. Am I just a code consisting of zeros and ones that define an American Status Quo? This capitalist society is just a facade for routine and self regulating communism. Well, maybe not entirely commie, but you get my point.
So . . .
Now I run around like a track star. I run a relay just like in the summer Olympics. However, my relay is me handing off my book to whomever or where ever hoping they will hand my book off to someone else with the final goal being that art director job I always wanted. It is just a damn shame I have to keep running with this large bulky portfolio, which I must say is incredibly fragile. Those Olympians have it easy, carrying those small hand-sized wands they pass along. I am sure there is a gold medal somewhere . . . I mean job.
So . . .
It is all about my book, all about those damn ideas that float in my head that will never come out exactly how I see them. It is all about who you know and how you know them. It is all about what you can do for people. It is not a nice world out there, just a very self-interested one. No one is looking to just help you out. You scratch their back and maybe they will scratch yours . . . and I have these pathetic fingernails that are hardly satisfying. I just know my competition has a nice Egyptian authentic back-scratcher. Damn these puny nails of mine.
At least there are movies like Delicatessen