I would make a terrible god because here it is, Day 23, and I have yet to make anything that's lived, which makes destroying the world I've created (in god-like wrath as gods are wont to do) a bit superfluous. My kitchen is littered with lifeless clay and all the beer in the garage is rapidly approaching its freshness date. Yea, the flood! I had always thought there was an equilibrium of craving, and that I might be forced into some other bad habit when I excised one or the other, lest I not be able to walk straight or talk coherently. (see: locusts)
Is there a point in your life where it is pointless to ask yourself about what the point of it all is? You just sort of reach a stage and you say to yourself, 'Well, fuck it, it's a little late to discover a meaning to it all. How's that gonna help me now?' And to drive the point home, in the mail is your latest retirement statement. I have taken stock of my life and am now quietly vesting. The payoff will likely be moderate. Past results are no guarantee of future performance.
I think what I am experiencing is a craving for inspiration, but not in the usual places. I would like very much to be surprised, to read something interesting from a very uninteresting person and to think, even if incorrectly, that I might have had a little something to do with it. I am tired of waiting for me to surprise myself. I had my chance, I think, it is time to step aside and let someone else take a turn at the wheel.
Not that I don't want there to be some measure of glory in resignation, no. I certainly wouldn't complain if I came across a Yellow-billed Cuckoo on one of my runs, or the battery in my pickup decided to up and charge itself, or just a really nice kiss when I least expected it. Wee measures of comfort, but like all things wee, just absolutely adorable in their weeness.
9 comments:
'Well, fuck it, it's a little late to discover a meaning to it all. How's that gonna help me now?'
Sadly, this is usually followed by the drinking of some sort alcohol-based product. That's a tough one for you at this point.
i sort of don't mind the clarity anymore. although since i had been planning on having at least a wee drink at tequilacon, i'm gonna have to find my long term fix elsewheres.
yeah, i know *exactly* how you feel.
Hmm. Wonder if you're going to be so disappointed that the new lifestyle isn't as exciting or dramatic as you'd hoped, that you eventually decide you might as well go back to drinking.
mainja, my sympathies!
karla, i am already disappointed in the new lifestyle, but i think i will stick it out for awhile, if only until i complete a marathon or two. who knew alcohol was such a depressant?
The only kind of marathons I can be in are drinking marathons.
A) of course you had a little something to do with it, but B) it wasn't that interesting in the first place, and C) always choose C.
karla, i've also heard of sex marathons, but if it's really like a marathon, i'm not sure it would be any fun. the vomiting and leg cramps might dampen the experience.
peefer, always choose C is good advice except when it comes to True/False type tests.
Small comfort? OK, how's this: your cat is really pretty, and NOT fat like mine.
There ya go.
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