i'm feeling the effects of what i am begining to term "the Henry Rollins syndrome."
explanation:
i like the city, but i hate the crowds and the traffic.
i like being around people, but i hate how most are stupid, rude, pompous, fat, smelly, loud, and in my way all the time.
i like grrls, but i hate that uncontrollable and completely ridiculous urge to please them.
i like me, but i hate my life.
i like books, but hate the fact that i almost need them in order to escape.
i like my apartment, but hate how lonely it is.
everywhere i go, everything i do, its all an attempt to fill this huge hole i have in the middle of me. i'm getting older and i'm running out of ideas for things to put in there in hopes of feeling whole.
restless. reckless. bored and mad. skin crawling with the sheer meaninglessness of it all.
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on a different note, i'm excited that i'm going to see Type O Negative tomorrow at the 9:30 Club in DC. it'll be nice not to have to drive 2+ hours to go see them, like when i lived in TX.
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i was actually watching a bit of TV the other day. the news sensationalists were doing a turbo-dramatic piece on that guy who sent an acid bomb to Bjork as a stalker gift or whatever. this guy taped a lot of his thoughts, right up to when he shaved his head, rubbed it down with greaspaint, talked to the camera a bit, then ate a bullet from the gun in his hand. of course, the Tube didn't show the flower shaped smudge of brains on the wall behind him, but they told us that he'd gone through with it.
i would have liked to have seen that. i would have liked to look into the eyes of a man brave or demented or both enough to put a gun in his mouth and point and click. people say its a cop out, the way of the coward. i say bullshit. the reasons why people do things like that are irrelevant, its what they do about them that distinguishes them from others. this guy had the balls and strength to end whatever personal hell he'd been living through. fucking a that takes balls. its better than living out a mocked up, plastic-smile psuedo-life. trying to convince yourself and everyone else that there's really not something really, really fucked up around here.
this guy was a waste of flesh for sending that bomb to Bjork. he deserved what he did to himself. i'm glad he did it. but i can't help but admire his courage to off himself the way he did.
disclaimer: my interest in the above subject is purely academic.
-pb
book: quicksilver, neal stephenson
music: vanessa daou
explanation:
i like the city, but i hate the crowds and the traffic.
i like being around people, but i hate how most are stupid, rude, pompous, fat, smelly, loud, and in my way all the time.
i like grrls, but i hate that uncontrollable and completely ridiculous urge to please them.
i like me, but i hate my life.
i like books, but hate the fact that i almost need them in order to escape.
i like my apartment, but hate how lonely it is.
everywhere i go, everything i do, its all an attempt to fill this huge hole i have in the middle of me. i'm getting older and i'm running out of ideas for things to put in there in hopes of feeling whole.
restless. reckless. bored and mad. skin crawling with the sheer meaninglessness of it all.
--------------
on a different note, i'm excited that i'm going to see Type O Negative tomorrow at the 9:30 Club in DC. it'll be nice not to have to drive 2+ hours to go see them, like when i lived in TX.
--------------
i was actually watching a bit of TV the other day. the news sensationalists were doing a turbo-dramatic piece on that guy who sent an acid bomb to Bjork as a stalker gift or whatever. this guy taped a lot of his thoughts, right up to when he shaved his head, rubbed it down with greaspaint, talked to the camera a bit, then ate a bullet from the gun in his hand. of course, the Tube didn't show the flower shaped smudge of brains on the wall behind him, but they told us that he'd gone through with it.
i would have liked to have seen that. i would have liked to look into the eyes of a man brave or demented or both enough to put a gun in his mouth and point and click. people say its a cop out, the way of the coward. i say bullshit. the reasons why people do things like that are irrelevant, its what they do about them that distinguishes them from others. this guy had the balls and strength to end whatever personal hell he'd been living through. fucking a that takes balls. its better than living out a mocked up, plastic-smile psuedo-life. trying to convince yourself and everyone else that there's really not something really, really fucked up around here.
this guy was a waste of flesh for sending that bomb to Bjork. he deserved what he did to himself. i'm glad he did it. but i can't help but admire his courage to off himself the way he did.
disclaimer: my interest in the above subject is purely academic.
-pb
book: quicksilver, neal stephenson
music: vanessa daou
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
the reason that the self destructive way out is a selfish act of a coward, if you never heard it
is because "the unacomplished life is that of cowardice" ~Hagakure (Hidden in the leaves) and because the amount of time that loved ones put into the development of any one human life is priceless, therefore to kill oneself is a really selfish fuckin thing to do
now back to cowardice, i believe sincerely in the above statement because it was made up by people who committed seppuku in a heart beat. go see the last samurai, its a really good movie
now back to the whole looking into the eyes of someone who is killing himself and filling the void deep inside.....
you need to find a creative vocation, anything from fine art to fucking pottery of flower arrangement because obviously whatever vocation u have now leaves you believing the shit that henry rollins puts out. my problem with him is that hes not doing anything about the state of the world, just bitches about it
however, science agrees with you on that there is something fucked up around here..... what it is, is the scitzo and neurosi inducing nature of this society
and it takes more balls to recognize the above
and turn your life around through your own efforts while telling all the sensationalists and critics and apathists like old henry to fuck off
-pb