"I thought I was strong, thought I was right, thought it was better not to fight, I thought there was a virtue in always being cool"
Right now I want to be more asleep than awake, but yet I am not, and I still am existing in front of this monitor, pouring out all this banter into a box inside a box that doesn't exist anywhere. I am just masturbating with words. Had an english teacher who told us that. He said that when you ramble on it's the same thing as masturbating. That's how he introduced us to Freud, and a whole world of other methods of interpretation. Existentialism was my favorite then, and to a degree, still is. After college, I am going to be purely existential. I am only going to be what I make of myself. Otherwise I am nothing.
Today was nice and slow, much needed. I drank beer and went sledding last night. I got drunk in a place that was not my home, but some good friends helped me along, and I did get home alright. I did run across the highway without the safety provided by the walk signal, but it was way past midnight, so the road was empty. It was nice to walk alone in the cold, with that after glow of alcohol keeping me warm and keeping my mind empty of everything except for the serene beauty that lingers on this campus once all the people go away. Once the cars full of screaming assholes go away, and once the rest of us sleep, the true wonder of this place comes alive. Seeing a place that is meant to be so populated and bustling with activity go dead somehow is just warming and inspiring to me. I love abandoned factories for this single reason. These once industrious places are silent, monuments to progress and the short sighted nature of man. Nothing lasts forever, and we should all know that.
Today was nice and slow, but an event happened that somehow is telling. I smoke once in a while, tobacco products, usually when intoxicated. To Robert Manc and I complained that we lacked things to smoke. Next to my vehicle, which is warming up, pulls a familiar Subaru. Robert, inside, rolls down his window. I follow suit. We talk. Our cars are facing the same direction, so he is far from me, with a passenger. I too have a passenger. Both of our outriders are female, but that's just more masturbation. We talk of mundane things, I turn my head, then turn it back, and I see something shiny flying. This shiny object hits me in the face, right on my lip, right where it covers up my left canine. My adrenaline kicks in, and for a second I am furious. I am in defensive mode. Then I realize what happened. Robert threw a pack of cigs into the car, and it hit me in the face. It cut me a little bit, just a tiny bit, but it was very telling. There are times when you are given a gift, but it ends up hurting you more than you initially realize. I think that this was one of those cases.
You know, there are sometimes when I am completely lost, and in this moment, I am lost. I just don't know what to do. It is early, I am alone in every way imaginable, with no living thing near me, not even through the web. Nothing is out there right now. While I love to see the life drained from campus, I don't like living it. It is times like this that I remember that I don't like to be alone, and I have memories of being a child and wondering what the word "lonely" meant. I pondered that word for so long when I was younger. So many children's stories revolved around the concept. I thought and thought and thought. I wondered how one would know that they were lonely. I tried to wrap my head around it. I tried being lonely, but I didn't quite understand the concept fully, so I was being lonely when my mom was around. Not the best way to learn. It went on for a while, and eventually I forgot about it, like most things. I just grew, and figured that I would find it. This is one of those moments when I look back to being a kid, and wanting to know desperately what it was to be lonely, and I think, "God, how stupid I was."
So here I am, alone in my room, the same music going through my head, lonely, thinking about the future and exactly when I am going to have an idea of what the hell I am going to do with myself, my life, others, you, me, him, her, us, them, we, they, sie, ihr, er, es, all of it. I wonder, and to be honest, I fluctuate between terror and boredom. I don't care, and then I do. I don't, I do. It goes on like that for a long time, and then I come to the conclusion that I can't do anything about it now, at 4.44 am, and that I should instead sleep and go to Records and Registration tomorrow and try and get more time for my thesis by underpointing.
"Why does it matter?"
-ccm
Right now I want to be more asleep than awake, but yet I am not, and I still am existing in front of this monitor, pouring out all this banter into a box inside a box that doesn't exist anywhere. I am just masturbating with words. Had an english teacher who told us that. He said that when you ramble on it's the same thing as masturbating. That's how he introduced us to Freud, and a whole world of other methods of interpretation. Existentialism was my favorite then, and to a degree, still is. After college, I am going to be purely existential. I am only going to be what I make of myself. Otherwise I am nothing.
Today was nice and slow, much needed. I drank beer and went sledding last night. I got drunk in a place that was not my home, but some good friends helped me along, and I did get home alright. I did run across the highway without the safety provided by the walk signal, but it was way past midnight, so the road was empty. It was nice to walk alone in the cold, with that after glow of alcohol keeping me warm and keeping my mind empty of everything except for the serene beauty that lingers on this campus once all the people go away. Once the cars full of screaming assholes go away, and once the rest of us sleep, the true wonder of this place comes alive. Seeing a place that is meant to be so populated and bustling with activity go dead somehow is just warming and inspiring to me. I love abandoned factories for this single reason. These once industrious places are silent, monuments to progress and the short sighted nature of man. Nothing lasts forever, and we should all know that.
Today was nice and slow, but an event happened that somehow is telling. I smoke once in a while, tobacco products, usually when intoxicated. To Robert Manc and I complained that we lacked things to smoke. Next to my vehicle, which is warming up, pulls a familiar Subaru. Robert, inside, rolls down his window. I follow suit. We talk. Our cars are facing the same direction, so he is far from me, with a passenger. I too have a passenger. Both of our outriders are female, but that's just more masturbation. We talk of mundane things, I turn my head, then turn it back, and I see something shiny flying. This shiny object hits me in the face, right on my lip, right where it covers up my left canine. My adrenaline kicks in, and for a second I am furious. I am in defensive mode. Then I realize what happened. Robert threw a pack of cigs into the car, and it hit me in the face. It cut me a little bit, just a tiny bit, but it was very telling. There are times when you are given a gift, but it ends up hurting you more than you initially realize. I think that this was one of those cases.
You know, there are sometimes when I am completely lost, and in this moment, I am lost. I just don't know what to do. It is early, I am alone in every way imaginable, with no living thing near me, not even through the web. Nothing is out there right now. While I love to see the life drained from campus, I don't like living it. It is times like this that I remember that I don't like to be alone, and I have memories of being a child and wondering what the word "lonely" meant. I pondered that word for so long when I was younger. So many children's stories revolved around the concept. I thought and thought and thought. I wondered how one would know that they were lonely. I tried to wrap my head around it. I tried being lonely, but I didn't quite understand the concept fully, so I was being lonely when my mom was around. Not the best way to learn. It went on for a while, and eventually I forgot about it, like most things. I just grew, and figured that I would find it. This is one of those moments when I look back to being a kid, and wanting to know desperately what it was to be lonely, and I think, "God, how stupid I was."
So here I am, alone in my room, the same music going through my head, lonely, thinking about the future and exactly when I am going to have an idea of what the hell I am going to do with myself, my life, others, you, me, him, her, us, them, we, they, sie, ihr, er, es, all of it. I wonder, and to be honest, I fluctuate between terror and boredom. I don't care, and then I do. I don't, I do. It goes on like that for a long time, and then I come to the conclusion that I can't do anything about it now, at 4.44 am, and that I should instead sleep and go to Records and Registration tomorrow and try and get more time for my thesis by underpointing.
"Why does it matter?"
-ccm
posted by CCMAS | 4:20 AM
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