How does it feel? to be on your own? like a complete unknown?
Once upon a time I used to write these epic entries that would start about one thing and --thirty-six or more tangents later -- end up on something completely different.
Now, thanks to twitter, thanks to a lack of confidence in my writing, thanks to many, many, other factors I can barely form a coherent sentence or two. This both unnerves me and amuses me. I find that I am always of at least two minds on any issue. In fact, I believe most of us are that way, if not all of us. Is there such a thing as purity?
I'm never sure what to believe. Some days, I want to die. Others, I want to live. Mostly I want to be left alone, like a "complete unknown." But I know I couldn't hack it on my own. I know I'm one of those destined to forever live with his parents. Consequently, my sister feels I should be on SSI. Thoughts?
I'm not really feeling doom and gloom, despite what the previous paragraphs may or may not reveal. I'm feeling this anxiety, however, about wanting to go to the casino. The casino. My home away from home, where I can go and everybody knows my name. Where I can go and forget about how overweight and over-educated I have become.
According to Edward Abbey, growth, for the sake of growth's sake, is the ideology of the cancer cell. Modernity and "progress" seem to follow that edict. I'm not sure what I want out of life.
Perhaps I'm so enamoured by the 20th century because I want so desperately to belong to something, and the 20th century, at least, is so documented. But I'll never escape my pedestrian, pedantic, melodramatic, medieval mindset.
I'm not sure what to say. I miss eras I never lived in. Watching Mad Men, the 1960s seem more real, and closer to my thoughts than anything going on now. But I know I'd be just as lost and confused. For though people may have a tendency to view the past as static, it is, in truth, highly non-static.
I guess what I'm saying is, pour me another drink, will ya?
Now, thanks to twitter, thanks to a lack of confidence in my writing, thanks to many, many, other factors I can barely form a coherent sentence or two. This both unnerves me and amuses me. I find that I am always of at least two minds on any issue. In fact, I believe most of us are that way, if not all of us. Is there such a thing as purity?
I'm never sure what to believe. Some days, I want to die. Others, I want to live. Mostly I want to be left alone, like a "complete unknown." But I know I couldn't hack it on my own. I know I'm one of those destined to forever live with his parents. Consequently, my sister feels I should be on SSI. Thoughts?
I'm not really feeling doom and gloom, despite what the previous paragraphs may or may not reveal. I'm feeling this anxiety, however, about wanting to go to the casino. The casino. My home away from home, where I can go and everybody knows my name. Where I can go and forget about how overweight and over-educated I have become.
According to Edward Abbey, growth, for the sake of growth's sake, is the ideology of the cancer cell. Modernity and "progress" seem to follow that edict. I'm not sure what I want out of life.
Perhaps I'm so enamoured by the 20th century because I want so desperately to belong to something, and the 20th century, at least, is so documented. But I'll never escape my pedestrian, pedantic, melodramatic, medieval mindset.
I'm not sure what to say. I miss eras I never lived in. Watching Mad Men, the 1960s seem more real, and closer to my thoughts than anything going on now. But I know I'd be just as lost and confused. For though people may have a tendency to view the past as static, it is, in truth, highly non-static.
I guess what I'm saying is, pour me another drink, will ya?