Dark but not Dead
Can't sleep until the music's done. Can't sleep until the beat is gone.
I appreciate the small changes in the day-to-day pattern of my life. So far, the few dreaded events of major significance continue to be indefinitely staved until my own personal d-day. There will be a single, forceful snap, and all of my reality will collapse with it. I am not speaking metaphorically; such destruction can easily be foreseen and prevented with the simplest measures, none of which I can afford. When this second crash happens, it will be of spectacular proportions. I have no idea what I will do when it gets here, but whatever it is, it will drive my hatred of the bourgeoisie to grand new levels, and possibly destroy myself - if not physically, then mentally, changing my entire persona and existence for the rest of my life.
Enough of the future, though. In times like these, it is important to grasp the fleeting seconds that go by. One moment you could be eating off of a plate, the next moment fishing half-eaten burgers from a dumpster. Every day I am grateful for the time that I can spend with my wife, and that she has a steady job while my endless search for employment has been in vain. I've been trying to think about small games, projects, and what small apartment maintenance I can manage to accomplish, but they all seem to fade away and become meaningless next to the burning fury inside me. I am in no form to fight - in fact, my current state of health is in danger of granting me a very early death indeed - but I want to take on my oppressors like so many societies have done before. I want the next Revolution to take place. Ah, but what dreams are these? Just whispers in the vault of my mind.
Everything I see around me is perverting and corrupting me now. It's so difficult to distance myself from the abhorrent culture and deeds of the American masses. This is the generation of the freaks, the bewildered children of the hapless, drug-addled seventies crowd having children of their own. I don't want to know them, I don't want anyone I know to know them, and I want to move away to a place completely distanced from their all-consuming influence on the capitalist market. I want to spin back time to the 1920s and 1930s, I want to see buildings made from real brick and mortar, to feel a world carved from the ideal of long-lasting quality, to fight in a war that actually mattered and experience the pains and pleasures of a radically shifting culture. Now, what is there?
Ha. What is there indeed. I shut myself away from the self-hating bar crowd, corporate-grown kiddies and their power-hungry parents. I stay in here, and just see roaches. Lots, and lots, and lots, of roaches. They skitter across my keyboard, crawl up my leg, live in my printer and just love to jump into my computer fan to splatter their guts onto my graphics card. Actually, thinking about it now, having a roach infestation is a lot like having children. You have to constantly clean up feces and puke (yes roaches puke), never leave anything lying on the floor (or they'll live in it), and put every little thing you want to keep for more than 5 minutes in a box in a closet (still not guaranteed). If you stay still and quiet you can even hear them, running around in everything you own. Oh the joys of being a parent to 50,000 tiny insects.
I have jury duty on the 3rd of August, this month. I hope it's some delinquent twit contesting a dui charge again so I can get out of it. I still can't believe common American citizens are allowed to have a say in a court of law. What idiot would seriously want me in a court? Regardless, it will be a good excuse to photograph the train station and pretend to think about eventually implementing it into an engine.. which will yield.. nothing, just like everything else I do. Here's hoping for change: May its benefits outweigh its atrocities, and not simply be in return for a dollar.
More roaches are jumping into my fan. I suppose that's my cue to end it for the night.
I appreciate the small changes in the day-to-day pattern of my life. So far, the few dreaded events of major significance continue to be indefinitely staved until my own personal d-day. There will be a single, forceful snap, and all of my reality will collapse with it. I am not speaking metaphorically; such destruction can easily be foreseen and prevented with the simplest measures, none of which I can afford. When this second crash happens, it will be of spectacular proportions. I have no idea what I will do when it gets here, but whatever it is, it will drive my hatred of the bourgeoisie to grand new levels, and possibly destroy myself - if not physically, then mentally, changing my entire persona and existence for the rest of my life.
Enough of the future, though. In times like these, it is important to grasp the fleeting seconds that go by. One moment you could be eating off of a plate, the next moment fishing half-eaten burgers from a dumpster. Every day I am grateful for the time that I can spend with my wife, and that she has a steady job while my endless search for employment has been in vain. I've been trying to think about small games, projects, and what small apartment maintenance I can manage to accomplish, but they all seem to fade away and become meaningless next to the burning fury inside me. I am in no form to fight - in fact, my current state of health is in danger of granting me a very early death indeed - but I want to take on my oppressors like so many societies have done before. I want the next Revolution to take place. Ah, but what dreams are these? Just whispers in the vault of my mind.
Everything I see around me is perverting and corrupting me now. It's so difficult to distance myself from the abhorrent culture and deeds of the American masses. This is the generation of the freaks, the bewildered children of the hapless, drug-addled seventies crowd having children of their own. I don't want to know them, I don't want anyone I know to know them, and I want to move away to a place completely distanced from their all-consuming influence on the capitalist market. I want to spin back time to the 1920s and 1930s, I want to see buildings made from real brick and mortar, to feel a world carved from the ideal of long-lasting quality, to fight in a war that actually mattered and experience the pains and pleasures of a radically shifting culture. Now, what is there?
Ha. What is there indeed. I shut myself away from the self-hating bar crowd, corporate-grown kiddies and their power-hungry parents. I stay in here, and just see roaches. Lots, and lots, and lots, of roaches. They skitter across my keyboard, crawl up my leg, live in my printer and just love to jump into my computer fan to splatter their guts onto my graphics card. Actually, thinking about it now, having a roach infestation is a lot like having children. You have to constantly clean up feces and puke (yes roaches puke), never leave anything lying on the floor (or they'll live in it), and put every little thing you want to keep for more than 5 minutes in a box in a closet (still not guaranteed). If you stay still and quiet you can even hear them, running around in everything you own. Oh the joys of being a parent to 50,000 tiny insects.
I have jury duty on the 3rd of August, this month. I hope it's some delinquent twit contesting a dui charge again so I can get out of it. I still can't believe common American citizens are allowed to have a say in a court of law. What idiot would seriously want me in a court? Regardless, it will be a good excuse to photograph the train station and pretend to think about eventually implementing it into an engine.. which will yield.. nothing, just like everything else I do. Here's hoping for change: May its benefits outweigh its atrocities, and not simply be in return for a dollar.
More roaches are jumping into my fan. I suppose that's my cue to end it for the night.