So I’m back, if anyone’s still reading. Been feeling like shit. Money. I also was feeling like this blog is a fabrication, a way to make me seem more suave and refined. Even using the words suave and refined is kind of bullshit because I’m basically a mess. Writing is a way to embellish my life rather than tell the perfect truth. But maybe there’s nothing wrong with that.
So I’ve been going through a rut where every fucking thing bothers me. Corrupted by the feeling that many people are expendably dumb. Many people could vanish and it wouldn’t matter, so long as the death is painless and there’s no one to mourn them. Being that I believe in life after death, I don’t think eradicating whole hoards of people is that big a deal. Of course, I could be wrong.
Guy in Blockbuster video, with his two small kids. Nothing bothers me like a son looking exactly like his father--you can tell that the son is probably going to end up leading an identical life. On the screen comes an ad for some new race car video game. Guy says, "Ooh, I can’t wait for that," like a small child, can’t look away from the TV. Not for the benefit of his kid, he was doing it on his own. His 10-year-old kid had the very same expression. We are a species of children and we are getting younger, not older.
Condescending, no? I hated that man as I stood in line waiting to rent "The Hulk." Sometimes I torture myself by watching the worst television imaginable. A way to punish my brain and my fate by saying to it, "Fuck you for not making my life any easier." The worse the TV, the better.
"The Hulk" wasn’t so bad as it could have been. Then again it was really, stupidly bad. A big green ape smashing things. The interesting thing was the extra features with footage of the filming, which solidified my feeling that a film set is a very depressing environment. No one looked like they were having any fun. Seems to be populated by self-important depressives.
Sounds familiar. The only difference is they’re getting paid millions of dollars and they’re still miserable. All I want is a little extra money so I can write my book and take care of my family. This is not for lack of trying. Now you’re seeing why I wasn’t blogging. Self-pity isn’t all that entertaining. At least I got it down so there's a record of it.
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5 comments:
I dunno. I have always found self-pity to be enormously entertaining, and occasionally very satisfying. Maybe I'm doing it wrong.
Hang in there! As Camus (of all people!) once said: "Happiness too is inevitable."
Thanks, Man. I'm going to try to make this the grand finale of my same old shit (S.O.S.)
The telltale marks of my IP addresses on your visitor logs show that I've been patiently awaiting your return.
We all need time to wallow in our misfortune. (Or revel in it, per Magazine Man.)
Welcome to the club. ;) I'm penniless too, and still trying to decide whether or not I should spend the last bit of my pennies on a cardigan with pearlescent buttons. To, like, make myself feel better for existing. It's sick.
I know what you mean about the depressingness of the son looking like the father--another way of thinking about that is that if you look at, say, a class of kindergarten kids they are really all adorable and beautiful & then you see them next to their parents & you can see what awaits them...
I really loved "The Hulk." I see a RIDICULOUSLY small number of movies but I was prompted to go to that one by the profile of Ang Lee in the New Yorker, plus I loved the 70s show (which my brothers and I watched on a B&W TV, largely defeating the purpose of the scary slo-mo transformation). I thought the movie was very good if a bit sprawling--I especially found it endearing the way the Hulk just sort of *bounded* across the landscape--it was very attractive.
Hope things pick up for you soon as far as the fiction and $$$ stuff goes.
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