Showing posts from October, 2005
...and yet, how self-deceitfully easy it is to slip back into the dull, monotonous thudding-along of life…
MapQuest informs me that I spent the weekend only 158.73 miles (or 3 hours and 1 minute) from the place I currently call home. Nevertheless, I now have a greater appreciation for travel. Going Away indeed changes one. And, the farther away one goes—along with the longer one may experience such Distance—the greater the change.
Life is the pursuit of happiness. The pursuit , you see, is all there is .
His fingernails, on his left hand, are the ones he keeps forgetting to clip.
No longer will he workout for women. Instead, he will workout for sanity.
He says to me, he says: He can’t sleep. He says: He’s got these terrible aches. And these aches, they aren’t new. He’s had them before. They come around, these aches, on average of once a year. And the reason they come around, these aches, the reason is always the same. Some girl. He says: He knows he’s a pig. (But not in the sense you’re thinking.) He says: He can’t stand himself. He says: He’s tired of feeling. Every thing. All this feeling, he says, it’s exhausting. He says: It’s debilitating. He says: He doesn’t know what to do with himself. And, he says: He can’t take his mind off the Future. Yes, that’s the other thing. He’s staring at a Dead End. He says. And nobody believes him. I don’t believe him. Why should you ? He says: If he can’t express what he wants to express, then what’s the point of expressing anything? He doesn’t see the Use , he says. He wants the pill that’ll put him to sleep. For good. He doesn’t want to be in the way. Doesn’t want to be the source of Drama. The
What is AMAZING is how I continue to embarrass myself without even, at the time, knowing it, or, without, evidentally, finding out about it until weeks after the fact. (More to come. Maybe ...)

“The truth will set you free.”

Or so “they” say. I have reason to believe that the above maxim is little more than a means of manipulation. And, as I have discovered (perhaps wholly as a result of my own paranoia), the closer I ever get to expressing the truth around anyone I know, the more pain it ultimately causes me. Increasingly, I see blogging as a hazard to my mental health. So, it may be best to keep my shit to myself. I cannot be honest without worrying about the ramifications of being honest—since I am rather scary during my honest moments. There are a handful of people around me who are rather good at keeping their shit to themselves. More and more, I admire them. I have been a whiner all of my life, and I hereby intend to knock it off.
The FireVaney is going to shut up and behave. At least, for a while. (Maybe for week, maybe for a month, maybe for forever…)