"Who doesn't want to change a thing/Accepting it was Fate..."
Hey hey! I know most of you assumed that my long delay in posting was due to some mysterious, unknown illness (perhaps malaria) that had left me too feverish and incoherent to type. However, this is not the case. The long delay was due to several factors of varying strengths: a lack of time, the trivial boredom of my life, my antisocial tendencies which rise to dominance during the fall months (especially October)...or maybe I'm just lazy.
So why post now? I don't know. At some point the hermits among us must descend to make known their prophecies and revelations. After all, even Zarathustra could not live among the trees and animals forever.
I believe I'm coming to understand why it is that I've spent my entire life living essentially alone, at the margins of society, and perhaps even how to remedy the situation. Unfortunately, the question now arises as to whether I wish to fix this. On the one hand, it would be fucking sweet to have, say, friends. Or even, if Fate were kind, to develop some kind of romantic relationship with a member of the female gender. But can I, should I, change myself to do so? In some cases, improvements can be made; however, people are constructed as much from their flaws as their strengths. Needless to say, logic is not providing any definitive answers. But where logic fails, does not emotion flourish?
I feel as though my life has been a great rending of interest, a well-nuanced game of "tug-o-war" in which I am constantly being diverted from one path to another, without ever completing any. Am I actually capable of success in any sense of the word? Or am I, perhaps, doomed to achieve only moderate competence in all fields until, eventually, I collapse from the strain? What I have always lacked is the drive, the discipline needed to become anything more than second-rate. Which is why I've cultivated my few native abilities: intelligence, humor, empathy, and a strange brand of vigilant paranoia. Now if only any of these were worth a damn in the real world, where I appear not as I am, but as I fear others will believe me not to be.
I drew a line in the sand long ago, my personal Maginot: this is me, and this is "else". I didn't know then that trenches don't end the war, but prolong it. Now I wonder if it's even possible to make amends. From the bastion of my mind, I survey a world scarred and shattered. The Land of the Solitary King.
Does anyone remember a time when my words held anything but these self-involved convolutions? This endless circling around nothing, grazing the flesh of me without ever achieving contact. Verbal masturbation designed only to escape the sheer weight of unwanted truth. Wordplay conducted among the dead.
So many sentence fragments...so little time.
Since my rant is, apparently, trailing off, I believe I'll call an end to this foolish post. But now you know, perhaps, just that much more of the context I create with every passing second. Whether you wanted to or not. In any event, I'm off to bed, where perhaps a sweet dream will carry me away from the terror of these empty aches. Goodnight, sweet children. Catch ya on the flipside...
P.S. As it turns out, the party I spoke of recently will actually be conducted on the 30th of this month. However, if anybody wants to hang out on the 29th, it seems likely that I'll be available. I'm sure all of my adoring fans out there have already realized that this means you, oh precious friend, can enjoy two whole days in the serene glow of my presence. Any takers?
Okay, now that I've made an ass out of myself once again, I'm really going to bed. Chrome Dizzle, over and out.
So why post now? I don't know. At some point the hermits among us must descend to make known their prophecies and revelations. After all, even Zarathustra could not live among the trees and animals forever.
I believe I'm coming to understand why it is that I've spent my entire life living essentially alone, at the margins of society, and perhaps even how to remedy the situation. Unfortunately, the question now arises as to whether I wish to fix this. On the one hand, it would be fucking sweet to have, say, friends. Or even, if Fate were kind, to develop some kind of romantic relationship with a member of the female gender. But can I, should I, change myself to do so? In some cases, improvements can be made; however, people are constructed as much from their flaws as their strengths. Needless to say, logic is not providing any definitive answers. But where logic fails, does not emotion flourish?
I feel as though my life has been a great rending of interest, a well-nuanced game of "tug-o-war" in which I am constantly being diverted from one path to another, without ever completing any. Am I actually capable of success in any sense of the word? Or am I, perhaps, doomed to achieve only moderate competence in all fields until, eventually, I collapse from the strain? What I have always lacked is the drive, the discipline needed to become anything more than second-rate. Which is why I've cultivated my few native abilities: intelligence, humor, empathy, and a strange brand of vigilant paranoia. Now if only any of these were worth a damn in the real world, where I appear not as I am, but as I fear others will believe me not to be.
I drew a line in the sand long ago, my personal Maginot: this is me, and this is "else". I didn't know then that trenches don't end the war, but prolong it. Now I wonder if it's even possible to make amends. From the bastion of my mind, I survey a world scarred and shattered. The Land of the Solitary King.
Does anyone remember a time when my words held anything but these self-involved convolutions? This endless circling around nothing, grazing the flesh of me without ever achieving contact. Verbal masturbation designed only to escape the sheer weight of unwanted truth. Wordplay conducted among the dead.
So many sentence fragments...so little time.
Since my rant is, apparently, trailing off, I believe I'll call an end to this foolish post. But now you know, perhaps, just that much more of the context I create with every passing second. Whether you wanted to or not. In any event, I'm off to bed, where perhaps a sweet dream will carry me away from the terror of these empty aches. Goodnight, sweet children. Catch ya on the flipside...
P.S. As it turns out, the party I spoke of recently will actually be conducted on the 30th of this month. However, if anybody wants to hang out on the 29th, it seems likely that I'll be available. I'm sure all of my adoring fans out there have already realized that this means you, oh precious friend, can enjoy two whole days in the serene glow of my presence. Any takers?
Okay, now that I've made an ass out of myself once again, I'm really going to bed. Chrome Dizzle, over and out.