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June 18, 2010

Told myself to do step 1, take the bottles out of my room. While doing the other step 1, walking the dog.

Step one is hard.

Played Viewtiful Joe in bed and had horrible existential crisis. Pretty funny, the situation, to be panicking while mindlessly pressing buttons, staring slack jawed at a television set. I was having an existential.

I listened to a song from an album I love(d): Half a Gurl (is better than none) from Eerie Von and Mike Morance's Uneasy Listening which came out in 1996. I cannot deal with this time issue. I cannot deal with how when I was 14, 14 years ago seemed like an entire lifetime away. A decade and then some. And then suddenly a decade became negligible.

Used to feel like I was getting old. Before that, oldness was something that happened in the future. Now I can feel it. Physically, I think I mostly need to take care of myself. I don't feel like I can blame my lethargy and girth on growing old so much as a lack of motivation to work on it. But I can feel it in the years. I can feel fourteen years like it's nothing now, and there are people I talk to now who cannot know how it is. They cannot understand time the way I do, and that really bothers me. I feel like some of my friends, some of the people I know in passing, they know the world in a different way that is more than just the difference between people, but it's the difference between generations. I know fourteen years like it is nothing, and for them, fourteen years is almost a lifetime.

I've seen my rockstars get old, I've seen them die. I feel like tomorrow is just more death, more lethargy.

Please bring me back from the brink. I feel like I'm just on the road to more horrifying realizations. I feel like I want to connect with the world and am now desperately out of touch. I wish I could make others see what it's like on this side, but I already feel like I'm in another world. Reaching out from space, trying to touch Earth again, failing.

When Scott Matthews' rendition of The Boy With the Thorn in His Side played, I cried.

I think, too, of people younger than me who are productive. I wonder how they fit all that productivity into lives shorter than mine, when all my dreams seem lifetimes away.

I think of people older, too.