WELCOME TO MY NIGHTMARE
I have been fucking busy.
Which is not really a bad thing, but in the futile pursuit of just trying to hold it together and not haul off and kill somebody, I've found very few moments to rub together to do anything that is not working, eating, sleeping, or sitting perfectly still and staring at something in the hopes that the ceaseless screaming in my head will stop.
But- being fucking busy beats the ever-lovin' blue eyed shit out of being bored.
If I accomplish absolutely nothing else in the middle-of-the-road life I've thus far established for myself, I hope to be able to at LEAST say "I'm not bored." The only time I get bored anymore seems to be when I'm forced to go to something I don't want to go to- like a wedding, or a baby shower, or somone's birthday or some other tedious and supposedly "life affirming" engagement which never seems to be as much life affirming for me as it tends to be something I have to get through before I move on to the other thing.
When I was a scrappy young pup, I could entertain myself with almost nothing. But God damn this retardedly A.D.D. world we've created for ourselves where a day in and day out rat race of trying to remember shit and get things done makes us ever-more susceptible to the dreaded boredom monster in our down time. Remember having an imagination? That was fucking cool.
But alas- now the ol' 'magination is all milky-eyed and senile. It needs to go through intensive physical and mental therapy before it will be of any use to anyone. It has been beaten into submission, soiled its adult undergarments, and is now shivvering in the corner, moaning softly to itself. I find myself thinking of funny scenarios, and they usually end up with a dog farting, or someone falling down.
Clearly, I have a rapier wit.
However- I solider on, typing into this thing to calm the shrieking demons in my brain and to attempt to keep it from hardening into a useless, cantaloupe-like object.
But I digress...
I have been fucking busy.
Which is not really a bad thing, but in the futile pursuit of just trying to hold it together and not haul off and kill somebody, I've found very few moments to rub together to do anything that is not working, eating, sleeping, or sitting perfectly still and staring at something in the hopes that the ceaseless screaming in my head will stop.
But- being fucking busy beats the ever-lovin' blue eyed shit out of being bored.
If I accomplish absolutely nothing else in the middle-of-the-road life I've thus far established for myself, I hope to be able to at LEAST say "I'm not bored." The only time I get bored anymore seems to be when I'm forced to go to something I don't want to go to- like a wedding, or a baby shower, or somone's birthday or some other tedious and supposedly "life affirming" engagement which never seems to be as much life affirming for me as it tends to be something I have to get through before I move on to the other thing.
When I was a scrappy young pup, I could entertain myself with almost nothing. But God damn this retardedly A.D.D. world we've created for ourselves where a day in and day out rat race of trying to remember shit and get things done makes us ever-more susceptible to the dreaded boredom monster in our down time. Remember having an imagination? That was fucking cool.
But alas- now the ol' 'magination is all milky-eyed and senile. It needs to go through intensive physical and mental therapy before it will be of any use to anyone. It has been beaten into submission, soiled its adult undergarments, and is now shivvering in the corner, moaning softly to itself. I find myself thinking of funny scenarios, and they usually end up with a dog farting, or someone falling down.
Clearly, I have a rapier wit.
However- I solider on, typing into this thing to calm the shrieking demons in my brain and to attempt to keep it from hardening into a useless, cantaloupe-like object.
But I digress...
posted by Pete Klockau at 12:16 PM
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