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If you must know, I just got in from watching a quarter of Pirates of the Caribbean by myself. The other three quarters, they were spent with my friend Robyn, who had to go to sleep because she's waking up in the morning to go hiking with her ex-boyfriend and a bottle of whiskey. I really do not feel like getting into explaining why this is a bad idea. I am in a good mood, you see, even if is five in the morning and I have popcorn stuck between my teeth. Just, you know, trust me. It's a terrible idea.
I have a cat on my lap and The Smiths The Queen Is Dead playing. Is it that kind of morning? No! But I just downloaded this the other day, because I figured to give The Smiths a try, and I've been obsessed with it ever since. I also can't spell right now, but that's okay because FireFox catches all my errors and underlines them for me. Who needs an editor, I ask, when you have technology. Now if I can only figure out why it keeps crashing... But anyway, where was I? Oh, The Smiths! Yes, yes, I was always one of those people who argued that, like the Stones and Beatles, folks could be either fans of The Cure or fans of The Smiths, but not both. I had a wannabe sexual crush on Robert Smith when I was 17 (always the best time for that sort of thing, non?) and wanted to sound cool by saying things like, "Well, I'm perfectly straight. But were I into men, I'd totally have a big crush on Robert Smith!" - I think I was reading too many Poppy Z. Brite novels. I was definitely a Cure person, but I'm pretty sure that's slipping, especially because I haven't listened to them in months. I'm also a Beatles person, though I can really appreciate what the Rolling Stones have done for music. I also like The Beach Boys, Simon and Garfunkel, Madonna, and Radiohead, so what the fuck do I know? At the time, when I first decided that The Smiths suck without ever giving them the time of day, I was probably 18 or so. I made a lot of bad decisions that year.
I've grown up. I've been growing up a lot over the past six months. It's about time, eh? Fucking 27 years old andhating doubting myself and cowering in the face of happiness. What's the point to that, eh? As I was coming in tonight, from the quarter + three quarters movie, it suddenly hit me: I'm not as afraid of myself anymore. I'm also not as afraid of life. Life is a fucking horrible thing, but it doesn't always have to be. There are pockets to be found, places where time stands still and beauty, sheer fucking beauty, exists. You cannot find them if you try, but sometimes, if you're really lucky, they'll find you. I have been lucky in the past. Late nights at the Oil Refinery, a handful of shows over the past few years, the moment my hand found hers. I know that all happened. I know beauty can exist. That's a very comforting thought.
This is sad. This too is sad. One man's sadness is no better than another's; you have to remember perspective. There is a lot of sadness in this world. A lot of sadness and anger and fucked up people doing fucked up things to each other. I'm okay with that, to a point. We can never eliminate sadness, thank goodness. Without it, we would not be able to know what happiness is. There is a balance to be found. There is a balance I am constantly searching for. I hope one day to achieve it, though I know I won't. I'm okay with that too, though I suppose that might be because I don't have much of an alternative.
This song always (I say that as if I've been listening to it for years, rather than days) reminds me of my friend Joe and his band from back before he lost control of his life. Back when he was straightedge and at least somewhat innocent, before that night a few years ago when I saw him on the brink of fucking madness. I haven't hung out with him for the better part of a year, if not longer. I miss the kid, but I don't know what we could connect on anymore. I might just be too afraid too try. He's allegedly doing well. I really hope that's the case.
A middle-aged white gentleman in a blue Mercedes Benz SUV ran a red light today and almost hit me. After about thirty seconds of me yelling at him he rolled down his window and asked what I was yelling about. When I told him he said, and I quote, "Well, I guess it's good I didn't hit you, huh?" rolled his window back up, and drove off. I was far too dumbfounded to retort. I then biked over to Whole Foods, where a nice lady playing the banjo and hawking turkeys wrote a song about my problems. We then figured out we were neighbors and she invited me to her birthday party tomorrow night. I also ran into![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
squirrella and we talked about gin and noodles made of mushrooms! It's the little things, you know?
Anyway, I'm rambling.
To sleep perhaps to dream, eh my imaginary friends?
I have a cat on my lap and The Smiths The Queen Is Dead playing. Is it that kind of morning? No! But I just downloaded this the other day, because I figured to give The Smiths a try, and I've been obsessed with it ever since. I also can't spell right now, but that's okay because FireFox catches all my errors and underlines them for me. Who needs an editor, I ask, when you have technology. Now if I can only figure out why it keeps crashing... But anyway, where was I? Oh, The Smiths! Yes, yes, I was always one of those people who argued that, like the Stones and Beatles, folks could be either fans of The Cure or fans of The Smiths, but not both. I had a wannabe sexual crush on Robert Smith when I was 17 (always the best time for that sort of thing, non?) and wanted to sound cool by saying things like, "Well, I'm perfectly straight. But were I into men, I'd totally have a big crush on Robert Smith!" - I think I was reading too many Poppy Z. Brite novels. I was definitely a Cure person, but I'm pretty sure that's slipping, especially because I haven't listened to them in months. I'm also a Beatles person, though I can really appreciate what the Rolling Stones have done for music. I also like The Beach Boys, Simon and Garfunkel, Madonna, and Radiohead, so what the fuck do I know? At the time, when I first decided that The Smiths suck without ever giving them the time of day, I was probably 18 or so. I made a lot of bad decisions that year.
I've grown up. I've been growing up a lot over the past six months. It's about time, eh? Fucking 27 years old and
This is sad. This too is sad. One man's sadness is no better than another's; you have to remember perspective. There is a lot of sadness in this world. A lot of sadness and anger and fucked up people doing fucked up things to each other. I'm okay with that, to a point. We can never eliminate sadness, thank goodness. Without it, we would not be able to know what happiness is. There is a balance to be found. There is a balance I am constantly searching for. I hope one day to achieve it, though I know I won't. I'm okay with that too, though I suppose that might be because I don't have much of an alternative.
This song always (I say that as if I've been listening to it for years, rather than days) reminds me of my friend Joe and his band from back before he lost control of his life. Back when he was straightedge and at least somewhat innocent, before that night a few years ago when I saw him on the brink of fucking madness. I haven't hung out with him for the better part of a year, if not longer. I miss the kid, but I don't know what we could connect on anymore. I might just be too afraid too try. He's allegedly doing well. I really hope that's the case.
A middle-aged white gentleman in a blue Mercedes Benz SUV ran a red light today and almost hit me. After about thirty seconds of me yelling at him he rolled down his window and asked what I was yelling about. When I told him he said, and I quote, "Well, I guess it's good I didn't hit you, huh?" rolled his window back up, and drove off. I was far too dumbfounded to retort. I then biked over to Whole Foods, where a nice lady playing the banjo and hawking turkeys wrote a song about my problems. We then figured out we were neighbors and she invited me to her birthday party tomorrow night. I also ran into
squirrella and we talked about gin and noodles made of mushrooms! It's the little things, you know?Anyway, I'm rambling.
To sleep perhaps to dream, eh my imaginary friends?
