23 March 2005

that space between what you say and what you think is filling up with garbage water

Things have been sparce around here recently; vacant noise between depression/funeral/pre-production junk. The thing I find about depression is that sometimes when your inside it it's all you can think about, and when your outside you want to pretend it never happened, to consider that you were afflicted but only a matter of days ago, how silly it all seems, self-indulgent and self-pitying. I'm so tired of it, I just wish it would leave me alone. Several times I've thought about just nuking this whole site back into the ether. Several times Opening up an artery and watching all my blood pour out seemed like a good alternative (which is just silly - I'm not bored, sad or angry enough to kill myself and I've got far too many interesting things to do). My mood is pretty stable at the moment, not amazingly stable, but stable enough. It's not as if I can just pop pills to level my shit out, it's not as if I'm clinical. It's all psychological. All wrapped up in self-loathing neuroses and other psycho-analytical bullshit. Bah.


Went down to the hospital today for a little emergency dental work. Been wracked by pain for months on end and finally got my shit together. After a bunch of waiting told my story to the dentist; a woman in her midthirties with brunette hair and a pleasant manner. More waiting, then another female dentist, mid-twenties, gave me a little gentle hassle of smoking, said I should give up. I should of asked her if she'd ever smoked. It's always so easy to say when you've never felt the sweet caress of lady nicotine, given yourself over to her embrace, felt her in waves through your body, that first smoke of the day, your head filling with bubbles.

Oh please, don't look at me like that. Don't think your not a junkie. consumer society is practically runs on the concept of addiction and desire, pyschological or otherwise. If I want to revel in my filthy habit you sure as fuck ain't gonna stop me with your holier-than-thou glances of piercing condescension.

Persecution complex anyone?

Oh, how I wish I hadn't read that book on freud and his little theories. Not that it would of made any difference, this stuff always filters down through the surrounding culture anyway. I was up to my neo-cortex is existentialism before I even touched Satre or Camus, pushed into it by my enviroment. I was, I tell you! And maybe I loved it, to be able to turn self-loathing into a philosophy you could shove down other people's throats. Maybe.

The best thing about the mass criminalisation of smoking is that each puff will be so much sweeter.