I hate my life! I hate myself! Feel better, yet? Ah, if only Kurt Cobain had decided to live I'd finally have a soul mate! Too bad he's dead and liked that Courtney Love person (albeit not without some significantly horrific conflict).
I am having perhaps the worst day of my wretched infinitesimal life and have come to the public library to commune with technology. Soon people will refuse to speak to one another and will simply sit down in front of computers, plugging their little minds into virtual reality without a murmur or a complaint. Great literary prophets will dance joyously in their premature graves as it all pans out here in the basically damned and doomed 21st century: life has become more about connecting with your I-Pod than with another human being! Admit it, people, you lovingly stroke that cell phone and that I-Pod and that laptop of yours and would be lost, lost, lost without them!
And now of course all the good ones are dead: David Foster Wallace, George Carlin, Paul Newman - I could go on and on as superior minds succumb to old age or to depression (that great cliche: writers and depression) and we are left with the teeming ignorant masses and those who think that The Golden Girls was a meaningful TV show and that the Twilight series is really well-written. It's enough to make anyone weep in isolated desolation (self-conquering marriage of adjective and noun, right there, people). Ah, to be alive a hundred years ago - has anyone ever been happy, or should I up my antidepressant dosage? Even that fails to be funny - life's just depressing, folks, so maybe it's time I checked myself into the funny farm or, barring that, learned how to skeet shoot.
First, I pray. For peace, for everyone I know, and for this creepy ass fucking town where I currently live (filled with more creepy predatory guys than I have ever seen outside a rest room in Grand Central Station). I pray for you and for me and for the upcoming election, and for maybe a little more understanding and compassion out there in the jaded suburbs, urban areas, rural areas, byways and highways and overpasses and underpasses and various psychic corridors where basically, we all live. We all live in the subconscious and the conscious mind simultaneously, and we all have a reason to be alive. I just haven't found mine, yet. And it's been a tough long haul out of the childhood of sexual abuse I endured, and I long to do the things I feel I was born to do.
It's just been very, very hard to do them, so hard I kind of wonder why I bother trying anymore when I've lived in one debilitating situation after another. Is there an end to it all?
Oh yeah; that lead actor on Mad Men is HOT. And they said she wasn't crazy, alas.
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