some are such natural humanitarians. some are so eager to be altruists. baffled by racism. unwilling to accept the ignorance of those that lash out at what they do not understand.
what is it that our species needs to understand? what will solve the problems?
rally to your cause. all you brilliant crusaders. show the world the right way. try to fix existence.
that is my goal. my goal is to fix everything. the notion of impossibility is a farce. it is either obvious or false. i cannot fly without mechanical assistance. i can change the viewpoint of the person standing next to me.
but how?
what words can i say?
what actions must i take?
what do i have to show?
what is the goal?
to get everyone to see it the way that i see it?
this fucking bullshit crusade. i stand so righteous and it is all a posture. i am so infatuated with my existence. i don't want to help our species. i don't want others to succeed. i want to be respected. i want to be the center of attention. i want to inspire awe. all these notions. these ambiguous statements that hint at improvement. they do not get at anything. the questions and the search for their answers will not eliminate a paradox. the pain of hardship will never leave. the joke is on me. nursing my self-inflicted wounds. a round of jokes... everyone likes the good jokes. the wacky viewpoint. it's all nothing. i know it. you know it. but we dance and we flaunt.
it will be simple for you to step back and realize that my depressive rambling is just the stuttering of a fool. you're life can go on. my life will go on. my mood will change. i will go to sleep. i will wake with new concerns. new facets of my self-indulgence. i will live to question the validity of my concern... after my fury has faded. it is all a big show, i am here reciting lines.... entertaining myself. trying to be honest. trying to seek truth. when it is clear that i am not in a position to speak about truth. my intellect fails me. i can't see the pattern. i can't find any answers. a fucking pollock painting. those that put the weight into his status. there is nothing there. random strokes. random splatter much less than extraordinary. a load of bullshit left for me to gawk at. pretentious pieces of shit sitting in the museum of modern art. hum chumming about the cocks they farted on in art school. none of it is worth anything. it is all inconsequential. and that should be simple. that realization should be enough to shut the questions down. but the infatuation reigns. the desire to lace it all with purpose. again and again. it all comes back to this sordid bullshit. let me ask again. let me say again. let us all be amazed by the ignorance of our world. let us all shed a tear for the hardships of others. let us all recognize the beauty of the complexity. we won't break for it. we won't stop smiling at our friends. we won't give it all up to be consistent. there are things that we are inclined to want. gut reactions. raw desires. the intellect has no control. the peripheral decisions are ours to play with. we can create styles for ourselves. and those choices may shape the way we fit. but in the moments when we step away. we will all find the same questions. we will all look to ourselves for answers that cannot be ascertained. and most will be lucky enough to stumble through uncertainty. a drink here. a fight here. a night without sleep. there will be milestones and emptiness. they will come and go with stomach pains, smiles, laughs, rapid heartbeats, and tears. lies and deception will be balanced by triumph and beauty. things will work out... because we have the will to survive. or we will die. leaving scraps of a disfigured life. defeated. but the questions will remain. and we will remain inconsistent. our focuses will shift. we will long for this and grow to that. the passion does not stay the same. life is too big for passions. there is too much to consider. because i don't want to be weird. i don't want you to look at me as a joke. i want to be respected. considered as a possibility, not as a carnival attraction. but i want to stay in line with my passions. i don't want to sacrifice discovery for pleasantries. what is it doing to my nuerotransmission? how many years am i taking off my life? will i ever get to sit at a table and look at the generations of my family? will i get to have a quiet cry on my own as the sun starts to set on my life?
yes. can i be serious with this bullshit? can we be serious? should we be serious? is life too short? do girls just want to have fun? or do they just enjoy singing it together when they have enough liquor in them?
it is always a hazy image.
too serious. too much thinking. thinking about my own fucking disasters.
just go out and get drunk man. lighten up a little. don't take yourself so seriously.
play your escape games. you will enjoy your lives. and i will not enjoy mine.
find the comfort. find the good.
No comments:
Post a Comment