Love and Peace? That takes me way way back...
"Write drunk; edit sober."
- Ernest Hemingway
I've always wondered how delightful it would be to truly understand the universe for what it is. Not for what we think it is, but what it really is, devoid of subjective interpretations and personal meanings. In the ever changing nature of things, we get swept away by a deluge of shifting realities.
I'll stop now before I puke on myself.
So what do we talk about? Certainly not my insecurities of not having someone special with to celebrate Valentine's Day. (And btw, thanks for asking) I could almost hear all my exes laughing their ass off and not feeling sardonically sorry. I'm sure as hell not laughing my ass off. Another topic? Sure. How about I'm currently in my late 20's and being unemployed for the good part of the year? Doesn't interest you either? Fine. Lemme just say I'm trying to be drunk to be funny, but I'm nowhere near being drunk at all, just a woozy feeling on my head, and the aftertaste of throwing up.
Right. Need my shot before this thing wears off.
So here I sit, scratching my belly until I feel a welt slowly materializing, I realize I haven't been doing much at all. Mainly because I have too much to think about, and I think it over, and it gets done or is over before I could set my mind on finally doing something about it. And I don't write it down. I think things over if I should write down immediately, or wait until it is finally over so that I could have an objective view of things. In which case it is finally over, and I forget much of it, depriving me of something to write about. Drats.
So let's get back to the Valentine's Day thingy for lack of a better topic. You know what they say? That it is a day for romance and shit? I don't know about that. I've had my share of both: romance and shit. And certainly I don't know about Valentine's, which should be a bloody holiday if we're going to be historically accurate about it. I don't know how it exactly got from a day of murder to one of celebrating love, but I could see the the connection. Oh yes I could. Love and murder. I wonder how psychopaths deal with Valentine's?
Remind to edit this the next morning.
- Ernest Hemingway
I've always wondered how delightful it would be to truly understand the universe for what it is. Not for what we think it is, but what it really is, devoid of subjective interpretations and personal meanings. In the ever changing nature of things, we get swept away by a deluge of shifting realities.
I'll stop now before I puke on myself.
So what do we talk about? Certainly not my insecurities of not having someone special with to celebrate Valentine's Day. (And btw, thanks for asking) I could almost hear all my exes laughing their ass off and not feeling sardonically sorry. I'm sure as hell not laughing my ass off. Another topic? Sure. How about I'm currently in my late 20's and being unemployed for the good part of the year? Doesn't interest you either? Fine. Lemme just say I'm trying to be drunk to be funny, but I'm nowhere near being drunk at all, just a woozy feeling on my head, and the aftertaste of throwing up.
Right. Need my shot before this thing wears off.
So here I sit, scratching my belly until I feel a welt slowly materializing, I realize I haven't been doing much at all. Mainly because I have too much to think about, and I think it over, and it gets done or is over before I could set my mind on finally doing something about it. And I don't write it down. I think things over if I should write down immediately, or wait until it is finally over so that I could have an objective view of things. In which case it is finally over, and I forget much of it, depriving me of something to write about. Drats.
So let's get back to the Valentine's Day thingy for lack of a better topic. You know what they say? That it is a day for romance and shit? I don't know about that. I've had my share of both: romance and shit. And certainly I don't know about Valentine's, which should be a bloody holiday if we're going to be historically accurate about it. I don't know how it exactly got from a day of murder to one of celebrating love, but I could see the the connection. Oh yes I could. Love and murder. I wonder how psychopaths deal with Valentine's?
Remind to edit this the next morning.