It’s 5: 22 AM.
By the time I’m done typing this post, it’ll be close to 6 AM on a Monday morning if not already past it.
Needless to say, things are pretty messed up if you find yourself in front of your computer screen in a post-sleep, caffeine and Gatorade fueled haze in a vain, almost cursory attempt at trying to be coherent on a blog that has been, of late a dumping ground for perverse jokes and randomness instead of doing the 24465476879346322154667799 other things that do matter in a life span that’s relatively short and useless relative to the great scheme of things in the universe.
Read that last paragraph? 4 lines. One sentence. Good-bye coherency and sense, I barely knew you.
Then again, it joins the ranks of seemingly important, high priority entities that I’ve lost a grip on. I feel directionless, burned out and on the verge of , if not already in, some sick, twisted form of misery and depression.
Amazing isn’t it? Close to 2 years ago I thought I won the proverbial lottery in the most literal sense possible. I was in an industry I loved working on things that mattered and making a difference. Or so I thought.
Right now everything leading up to this moment seems completely disjointed, a rambling Frankenstein-like specimen stitched together by delusions of self-worth. Everything seems to be colored in monotony. Waking up is a chore, getting to work even a bigger one, surviving the day, the biggest of all. And it makes me wonder.
You know that in superhero flicks and comics there’s a prolonged period of struggle before they finally manage to find a way to defeat their villains right? This period of my life seems like those 5-10 pages or the odd thirty minutes of celluloid struggle. On constant loop. A rerun of cheap satire that’s probably keeping some alien race entertained as they’re watching from high above, a comedic filler giving their aspirations of galactic domination a massive boost if this was an indicator of how the rest of humanity pans out.
I’m just tired. Frayed. And seven shades of shit rolled into one convenient package that’s prevented from hitting the fan due to a heady mix of music, video games, anime, coffee and alcohol. But for how long?
There’s only so much an IQ of 160 severed by a dominant right-brain can do. Couple that with a personal life that’s as healthy as a dead person and social life where the high point is getting sloshed on a Saturday night leads me to believe that I need a change. A change of everything. A change from everyone. A change absolutely wholesale.
I need to find a way out. Before life becomes the death of me. Until a suitable solution is found I’ll be busy helping stone golems discover who they were before they became well…stone golems.
Stone Golems. Making hating pigeons cool since forever.
Oh what do you know? It’s 6:40 AM. Am I Nostradamus or what?
Now Listening To: Queens of the Stone Age – In the Fade
