Sunday, February 28, 2010

The Crying Game

I was on the way to work in a taxi, when Culture Club's 'Do You Really Want To Hurt Me' played on the radio.

I almost cried.

No, not because it hit any raw nerves.

It was because I was so out of love, so out of touch, that the song no longer bears any relevance to my life.

The fact that I was as numb to the themes of the song as I was when I first heard it at age 9 was the tragedy that was worth crying about.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010


im really unsure of how to get past this bullshit writersblock, if you even call me a writer. the will to blog is weak in me especially when my indoor thermometer reads thirty point fucking nine degrees c. those article style blog posts obviously arent doing any shit to my readership and to be honest no one wants to read the pretentious crap i write that no one can identify with

i dont know if they use paragraphing in what they call stream of consciousness writing but ill use them. makes it more natural like those 2 second pauses that people use as verbal paragraphing when making their pompous speeches. so here i am paragraphing my shit the way i want to

like this

it really makes that mess more readable unlike lets say trainspotting which i had tried thrice to complete but failed, think i should just watch the damn movie instead, if only i can find the dvd

what is so cool about this is a transcript of my very thoughts. yes. what youre seeing is my pure unadulterated thought, be it fucked it up or not. but its all me, and all honest and raw and unedited, like peering down the proverbial blouse of my mind

yes im a dirty fucker

but enough with that shit its chinese new year and i shouldnt be mucking around with disgusting shit like that.

visiting relatives and all that jazz. seeing my cousins grow up, wondering if they feel the same way as i do when they see me grow up. i have this cousin who i hardly talk to and somehow it feels like we are similar in so many ways. sometimes im jealous of their youth and how much happier they are than i was when i was their age.

sometimes i wish i were them instead of me so i could get away without slogging my fucking vestiges of youth away on work. i miss my youth

just this morning my taxi drove past my old school and i near cried. the days used to be so much happier. so much less lonely. i had friends that had mattered and i hung around with them all the time. youthful ignorance had let us enjoy the good parts of life while ignoring adult things like finances bills family career and those boring things that grownups used to speak of at family reunions.

now its our turn

over the dinnertable i am expected to brag about my job. but fuck that. i feel like a fraud. im not even passionate about what i do, hell i didnt even work hard to get where i am i sorta just figured it out. if i had really worked hard to get to where i really want to be id be playing the guitar next to bono and alongside brian may and bring more music to the world

drowning out the silence in the world. the silence in the room kills me and i have to keep the music playing to kill the silence. cause im so lonely. so terribly lonely.

and single.

and i wish i had a special someone but how the fuck do i look for one given my preferences? i dunno how the others do it but maybe they do it anyway and regret it eventually. maybe by being picky and lonely im protecting myself from the falls and the disappointments but maybe, just maybe, the transient highs before the disappointments may be worth the pain. maybe.

but sitting in this room for hours in a day, with nothing but a computer and the hifi to entertain me is not sustainable. i'll regret that shit someday, but how can i regret something i didnt even consciously choose?