2002-09-29 - 11:42 p.m.
*
*
*
Tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiime is on my side
Fire and brimstone buffalo wings for dinner is the greatest thing a Belmo can do for himself. So I did it and my ass is pissed off at me.
But they were good.
I notice that I haven't written here, something that a lot of people write in diaries, as if we're responsible to write at all. As if not writing goes against fate. I don't care that I haven't written here at all lately because honestly the only things I could share with the world through words here are things too small for your radar. They're too trivial, they're too insignificant to be blips on your radar. They are breezes and scents and wisps of existence on the wind, no real solid truth or tangible image.
I feed off of unneccesary things. And buffalo wings.
A smile, a wink, a laugh, a hint of something else, these are all my food. I can't ignore small things because bigger things are looming overhead. It's like stepping on a flower while staring at a skyscraper. There are small things out there that go unnoticed, unattended to. I find I usually attend to them.
A hug, the brushing of arms, one extra chicken nugget, the perfect spit, the 2 second surge when that favorite part of your favorite song comes on, the pinch of utter despair at its pinnacle. They are all without any form or substance in the grand scheme of life. And yet they are life.
I'm a bit out of it from the weekend, 3 days spent running even further away from any form of reality, any form of soberness. Eventually I stopped and noticed I was having a good time with someone I think the world of and I kind of got sick of looking ahead or behind or around, kind of gave up on the little things, focused on the big stuff and found that there are times in life that significance doesn't have any sway on.
As insignificant as they are, they are significant to you. That's the only frame of reference youshould worry about: your own. Of course, I don't suggest listening to only your own opinions, but you should at least know them.
Now I sound like Oprah. This is all horseshit.
FUck it, I'm all pissed and lonely and fucking scared and fucking angry and completely confused as to where this is all heading. All this meaning everything, all of me and all of everything else. I die, the planet dies, whatever. The whole eternity thing, the whole time just goes on thing. Well whyinthefuck for? Where is it going? WHERE? If time ticks on forever, what in the fuck is it ticking for?
I've always hated time because it's a restriction. I know I only have a certain amount of it, I know it runs out, it gets spent, it flies. All that silly silly cliche bullshit, anything you can think of about time, it does.
But fucking why?
It's doing it now, you jsut wasted 4 or so minutes of your time reading this. You'll absorb whatever you read or not, either way and at the end of it, you spent time to do it, well on your way to a funeral.
BUT FUCKING WHY? FOR WHAT FUCKING REASON?
This is all getting too stupid for me, like a CD on random, replaying endlessly. There's the happy song, and the sad song, and the upset song, and the emotional song, and the bored song, and the stupid song, and the triumphant song and the sleeping song. They all play out, all repeat. Christmas songs and thanksgiving songs and new years songs, every holiday. It's 2002 and then 2003 and then 2004 and so on. It's fucking september or october or may or march. It's fall or spring, or its winter or maybe summer. But it's another summer, another friday, another september leaving, another october coming.
I'm not anywhere remotely closer to fulfilled than I have been before.
Forget it, I'm tired and I don't want to bitch anymore about things I can't change, things that won't change, things that must change.
Just fuck it.
BMC
What did you just say? - What's he gonna say next?
