idiologue

I just finished watching Lost in Translation and wow, what a good movie. And I thought we were insane...


Then I just sit here censoring myself, sitting down to let the ideas flow and blocking them in the last moment. Blocking them with some half imagined criticisms, debating merit, before the words even hit the page, screen, whatever. I wonder if perhaps it has to do with my preoccupation with the incredible absurdity of the modern human condition. I can't help but wonder at those who worship aliens as gods or the 8 billion dollar loss caused by one sick cow. One cow, an 8 billion dollar cow. This world is madness and I marvel. I am both amused and horrified by the whole project. It's out of control. Blind drunk kind of out of control. I watch it roll by like a parade that never ends and the experience of it just seems to drip off my tongue whenever I open my mouth. I can't help but want to share it, but people don't often want to hear. They prefer their food canned and their thoughts pre-digested. And sometimes I find myself taking that into consideration when sitting down to write. Stupid really. I have nothing better to do than spit it out, no worthier cause to occupy me. And I do enjoy it so. Some may not wish to hear it, but something has gone horribly and yet hilariously wrong, and I insist on pointing that out. It's my thing, you know?