Paradise is a furniture store somewhere in Rohnert Park
I went into this furniture store today, and I realized something about them that I've never really noticed before: they're the perfect place to live. Think about it. You'd never get sick of your furniture, because anytime you do, you can just move to another side of the store and sit on a new couch. It's decked out with the nicest HDTVs, because, well, they're trying to sell entertainment centers. Perfect. Not only that, but they've got video games set up in this place so that kids won't get bored. Score there, too. And because this was some grand opening event, they had this concession stand set up with a ton of shitty food to eat right in the middle of the store. You could barricade yourself in there for hours and never get bored. Plenty of beds, plenty of styles to choose from... it's fantastic.
Do you ever see people walking around, doing their day to day stuff, and just wonder what's going on in their minds? What sort of incomprehensible force is driving their activity, their wants, their thoughts and feelings? How they came to be doing the same thing as you, in the same place as you, at the same time as you? It's amazing to think about if you find yourself at all inclined to.
Imagine living in Queensland right now. They've got a drought so bad that they've had to resort to drinking waste water. Or in Lebanon. The people in Beirut can't go outside at night right now because of the revolt that's going on. The fertility rate for Japanese women is about one child per mother, slowly dropping - they just saw their third outbreak of the bird flu over there, and scientists are worried that it's going to mutate into a form that would make humans susceptible. Meanwhile, Stateside, what's going on? Well, we're protesting the Iraq war. The people here aren't really in it, since if we were we'd be over there or they'd be over here. Obviously we're affected, but only indirectly due to a loved one's involvement. So what else is there. American Idol, I guess. We're so wonderfully oblivious to the shitty stuff that's going on around us. Anything that doesn't immediately affect our well-being is out of sight and out of mind. Bad shit can't happen to us, because, well, it just doesn't. Nothing really shitty, mind you. Not revolt, or drinking sewage.
I'm including myself in that accusation, since all I can really seem to think about during the day is how cool living in a furniture store would be, or which video game I want to play next, or what movie I want to see, or what story would be cool to write if I made the time (which I have plenty of, but am too lazy to acknowledge with anything even remotely straining).
Do you ever get sick of living weekend to weekend? I don't. I think it's great. The worst day of the week is Sunday, not because it's actually bad but because it's so damn bittersweet. You can sleep in, but eventually, you've got to do some homework, and then that's it. Show's over until next Friday night. It sucks. That's where I'm at right now, the end of Sunday night, coming into Monday with the knowledge that I've got to go to school and pretend to learn stuff and be around shallow, empty people who would love to shit all over my sundae.
Solitude and escapism work well together for me because I can be so blissfully ignorant and entertained. I don't care that all the shit I think up isn't real, there's no one around to tell me otherwise so it doesn't matter.
Gonna go lay down and listen to Miles Davis play the trumpet. He's dead, you know. Immortality is celebrity, in my honest opinion.
Do you ever see people walking around, doing their day to day stuff, and just wonder what's going on in their minds? What sort of incomprehensible force is driving their activity, their wants, their thoughts and feelings? How they came to be doing the same thing as you, in the same place as you, at the same time as you? It's amazing to think about if you find yourself at all inclined to.
Imagine living in Queensland right now. They've got a drought so bad that they've had to resort to drinking waste water. Or in Lebanon. The people in Beirut can't go outside at night right now because of the revolt that's going on. The fertility rate for Japanese women is about one child per mother, slowly dropping - they just saw their third outbreak of the bird flu over there, and scientists are worried that it's going to mutate into a form that would make humans susceptible. Meanwhile, Stateside, what's going on? Well, we're protesting the Iraq war. The people here aren't really in it, since if we were we'd be over there or they'd be over here. Obviously we're affected, but only indirectly due to a loved one's involvement. So what else is there. American Idol, I guess. We're so wonderfully oblivious to the shitty stuff that's going on around us. Anything that doesn't immediately affect our well-being is out of sight and out of mind. Bad shit can't happen to us, because, well, it just doesn't. Nothing really shitty, mind you. Not revolt, or drinking sewage.
I'm including myself in that accusation, since all I can really seem to think about during the day is how cool living in a furniture store would be, or which video game I want to play next, or what movie I want to see, or what story would be cool to write if I made the time (which I have plenty of, but am too lazy to acknowledge with anything even remotely straining).
Do you ever get sick of living weekend to weekend? I don't. I think it's great. The worst day of the week is Sunday, not because it's actually bad but because it's so damn bittersweet. You can sleep in, but eventually, you've got to do some homework, and then that's it. Show's over until next Friday night. It sucks. That's where I'm at right now, the end of Sunday night, coming into Monday with the knowledge that I've got to go to school and pretend to learn stuff and be around shallow, empty people who would love to shit all over my sundae.
Solitude and escapism work well together for me because I can be so blissfully ignorant and entertained. I don't care that all the shit I think up isn't real, there's no one around to tell me otherwise so it doesn't matter.
Gonna go lay down and listen to Miles Davis play the trumpet. He's dead, you know. Immortality is celebrity, in my honest opinion.