A friend recently told me that I'm too sarcastic with her. I feel bad if I hurt her feelings, but even while apologizing I couldn't help but laugh. Is there something wrong with me? Am I really nothing but post-modernist mockery? I often poke fun at these popular books that are all clever and no substance, but am I pointing out the faults in them I see in myself? Or maybe I'm legitimately a funny guy and she needs to get over herself...probably not.
I was going to write something like this: "Looking at the human condition one can either laugh or cry...I choose laughter." But I couldn't get through it. It's just too damn funny.
Monday, May 15, 2006
Saturday, May 13, 2006
In which nothing is decided and nothing goes on...
I'd really like to write something, but, man, I don't even know where to start. I could go with more tales of drunken revelry (something involving me running outside at 8:00 in the morning with a sabre and an empty bottle of 151 and shouting all piratey at pedestrians) but that's old hat.
So, I'm graduating college, as most of you who would read this probably already know. I hate to be cliched but I'm sitting here asking myself, "What the fuck am I going to do now?" Get a job, they say. Get married, they say. To which I sarcastically reply, in quotes like any good sarcastician, "We're a generation of men raised by women...," etc. (If you don't know the rest you haven't seen Fight Club nearly enough.) I always bitch when it gets close to closing time. At the end of high school I beat my chest and tore my beard saying, "What a damned cruel system that makes us leave our bosom companions behind, and so forth and so on!" But I didn't really enjoy high school that much. There are a few moments that I can point to and say that there! That is something! Whether I enjoyed that moment or not at least I can say I was alive. But there are only a few really. Most of it is just a mesh of nonsense.
The same is really true of college. I feel the urge in me to hate the leaving of it, for all the great times that I had. I think maybe I just want to be sad because then I seem like I've done something of such worth that it breaks your heart never to do it again. But really, though again, I can point to some fantastic moments, I've squandered these years. How often did I waste time when I could have been doing something important? If not important at least something to remember?
Well, fuck. What's the point of living with regret? Isn't that what I'm trying to say? That I shouldn't be sad over it? Maybe I should be optimistic about the future - even a future as murky as mine. What's the point of living if it isn't an adventure?
That didn't really fit. I'm gonna stop writing now. Why, you ask, would he post something if didn't finish it, why wouldn't he just erase it or save it for later? Why does anyone actually post anything for others to read? It's all just bullshit half truths and boldfaced lies. Its the love of spectacle, I think. Pechorin-like we are conscious of our roles on the stage and we long for an audience.
I don't know. I can't think of the last time I had an answer for anything.
So, I'm graduating college, as most of you who would read this probably already know. I hate to be cliched but I'm sitting here asking myself, "What the fuck am I going to do now?" Get a job, they say. Get married, they say. To which I sarcastically reply, in quotes like any good sarcastician, "We're a generation of men raised by women...," etc. (If you don't know the rest you haven't seen Fight Club nearly enough.) I always bitch when it gets close to closing time. At the end of high school I beat my chest and tore my beard saying, "What a damned cruel system that makes us leave our bosom companions behind, and so forth and so on!" But I didn't really enjoy high school that much. There are a few moments that I can point to and say that there! That is something! Whether I enjoyed that moment or not at least I can say I was alive. But there are only a few really. Most of it is just a mesh of nonsense.
The same is really true of college. I feel the urge in me to hate the leaving of it, for all the great times that I had. I think maybe I just want to be sad because then I seem like I've done something of such worth that it breaks your heart never to do it again. But really, though again, I can point to some fantastic moments, I've squandered these years. How often did I waste time when I could have been doing something important? If not important at least something to remember?
Well, fuck. What's the point of living with regret? Isn't that what I'm trying to say? That I shouldn't be sad over it? Maybe I should be optimistic about the future - even a future as murky as mine. What's the point of living if it isn't an adventure?
That didn't really fit. I'm gonna stop writing now. Why, you ask, would he post something if didn't finish it, why wouldn't he just erase it or save it for later? Why does anyone actually post anything for others to read? It's all just bullshit half truths and boldfaced lies. Its the love of spectacle, I think. Pechorin-like we are conscious of our roles on the stage and we long for an audience.
I don't know. I can't think of the last time I had an answer for anything.
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