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| Thus Spake The Wiseman 20 most recent entries |
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I just opened an email entitled "Justice for All"
Life is a game
was another in a series of days full of growth. This has been a prevailing trend for some time and looks to continue for the forseeable future. Life is good but getting better all the time, for now.
This begins to become discouraging. Next year a continuation - unacceptable carryover. Fix the problem. What could that mean?
After my exam at 9AM on Thursday I will need to complete two 200 level courses, one 300 level course, and four 400 level courses over the space of three terms and a summer and I will be finished my undergraduate studies in philosophy with a minor in political science. If I go back to retake two out of three badly botched political science courses, I might even do so with an A average.
Somewhere from hunched over a small but growing pile of endorsed government cheques and quite near a small but mysteriously shrinking pile of unendorsed government cheques a thought scrambles to the forefront of an acid-addled mind: That this is all too easy somehow; inauthentic adulthood or merely grown-upness lite? post a comment
Today is the day I fulfilled my 14 month old vow to be hired at a headshop. Today is also the day I sent my first press release for mass media consideration. Today is furthermore the day after the day Sasha and I decided to throw the breaks on the drinking again.
There was a country whose harvest came in and it was poisonous. Those who ate of it became insane.
I wonder if I'll always be too preoccupied to pay attention to most women.
"The point of philosophy is to start with something so simple as to seem not worth stating, and to end with something so paradoxical that no one will believe it."
Being given the job of producing a short radio ad which will convincingly prompt middle-aged men to voluntarily undergo prostate exams would be a very interesting week in the life of an adman. That was a surprisingly convincing (and hilarious!) masterpiece of snakeoilsmanship spat out by some anonymous cog paid to spend a period of his working lifetime - many hours on the company dime - conceptualising about uncomfortable realities involving glands tucked delicately out of sight and mind.
"It's called a parachute," she said. "What do you mean you've never heard of one?"
 I have many middle aged adults feeding me wretched puns and go-nowhere anecdotes as suggestions to fill my speaking time for Mary's engagement. The universal nature of the acceptance of these minor throwaway sentiments, lifted directly from a book purchased on the subject in panic after having accidentally accepted the invitation to speak, betrays the flat lack of substance conveyed through their presentation. The social ritual fulfilled, it will be a very mild and therefore happy birthday/dethday speech. Congratulations. Mild platitudes are not expressions of anything more profound than the speaker's recognition of the honouree's status as included in a group of people he defines to be non-offensive. What better way to let an acquaintance know that you know them well enough to briefly stand up in front of a room full of people in their honour, but not quite too-well enough to the point of actually having anything amusing or insightful to say stored up after a lifetime of association. Being asked to present them is an awkward thing, but where's the harm? A night of pageantry and name-dropping, how very droll. Open bar? Yeah right. Cleared out by 9? Take off. Now I need to find someone to drink with in a suit on Wednesday night. post a comment
 Time spent struggling against obstacle is time spent revealing the nature of the person who struggles against it. The nature of - or lack of - the internal revolt which arises against such an activity reflects more accurately the beliefs and values of the person engaged it in than words possibly could, given that words can only arrive having already passed through the filter of a mind understandably determined to express itself to the world in the best terms possible - any individual concerned with self improvement would appear to be an individual concerned with vanity in this regard, for the two are indistinguishable at this level. I suppose. Life not on my own terms is not a life I would begin to consider living. A job, yes; and one which I won't enjoy, likely, at least for many years. Tolerance of others, certainly; it's always been there, beneath the general complaining. It is not the nature of my work which I do not enjoy; having spent so many hours crawling through texts I find myself not particularly tired of doing the physical work. It is the nature of the job to be done with that information - absolutely irrelevant. None of these questions are daunting in the least, challenging in the least, interesting in the least. This is an exercise in sheer work for the sake of work. This is not skill, ability, reasoning of any kind. This is determining who went to class and took the most detailed notes. What is the point of that? What am I proving that I can do? More significantly, what am I proving that I am unable or unwilling to do? Where the hell am I going? Life viewed in context, placed on the end of a continuum which is constantly travelling away from the point at which it began, suggests that I am in a strange place. I am not happy here; I am not comfortable doing what I am doing and I don't look forward to the changes which are coming in life. Something should be done, and it occurs to me that I would probably be the person tasked with handling that job, but I've received no training. That is a fact which, while universally common and inescapably certain, is nonetheless very unfortunate and very much unwelcome every time it is encountered. I need out into the world again. Something went wrong and I ended up back here, alone, both older and wiser and yet still stuck in exactly the same damn place. Right - precisely why I need to destroy this place as a viable option. Wherever next is, it won't ever be here again - and it seems I've decided to presume to speak as though I've left already; how optimistic of me - and that can be nothing but a good thing. Nothing? Hardly true. Good luck is not the best I can allow myself to do. I need a plan. Why is it n years later and I still have a stupid blue cat representing my emotional state? 1 comment | post a comment
 Somewhere along the line last term school got to me. Turns out I've wasted an entire year of education. How odd. How quickly. Am I really surprised? I suppose it was bound to happen - with my educational history, expecting to follow the regular stream to anywhere for any reason is laughable. Disappointed, of course. But still, I'm suddenly helpfully - though belatedly - reminded why I endure all of this bullshit: I'm really great at the end result if I just pay attention on the way. Consider third year a write-off and look to the future. I'm proud of the quality of work I am now able to produce and display below, even if it is in a uselessly specialised field. ( Read more... ) 1 comment | post a comment
 "Everyone in his heart of hearts agrees with Baudelaire: 'To be a useful person has always seemed to me something particularly horrible,' for, subjectively, to be useful means to be doing not what one wants to do, but what someone else insists on one's doing. But at the same time, everyone is ashamed to admit in public that he is useless." W.H. Auden
"I have just returned from a party of which I was the life and soul; wit poured from my lips, everyone laughed and admired me - but I went away - and the dash should be at long as the earth's orbit ----------- and wanted to shoot myself."
 By my count, as of 8:30 later tonight, I will be free for 20 days. The nature of my day to day existence is such that this freedom is nothing truly revolutionary for me; the true - holy Christ, I can read (in an upside-down fashion) what I'm typing in the reflection of the still surface of my bowl of soup. Though I may not be stoned, as a stoner, that is truly righteous, and I will rue the day I stop being able to appreciate such things - beauty is the fact that this is one of those times of year which finds most people with a certain quantity of time off from their regular pursuits, to be filled with socialisation and camaraderie. I've long been popular, largely through my exploits at parties or bars, or through the legends told of parties allegedly held at my house - though I remain unconvinced all the goings on told of in tales could possibly have transpired without serious damage to the homestead - but I rarely think of my company in high demand. As a man who spends the majority of his time alone, be it engaged in study or play, it often seems as though the world passes me by. I am forever entreating others to share their precious time with me, since they have little extra and I have much; as such, it feels strange to realise just how thin I have already been stretched over the coming 20 days. From December 26th until January 1st, I will not be home. I am tired of my life, tired of my situation, and working as hard as I know how to change it, in a dozen small ways daily but with an eye to the necessary long-term fundamental shifts. These shifts seem to come most easily out of revelations which arise when I am in different situations and away from my comfortable if contentious and argumentative home life; as such, I will be taking a vacation this Christmas break. Since I cannot afford to leave my town, I have pledged for weeks to many that I will spend that time re-discovering it - so many times have I spoken the words that by now they feel prophetic; I will go on this adventure around my familiar town with the wide eyes of a newcomer, and I will learn from it, because there is no other way of things. During that time, I must visit at least nine households, all while experimenting as heavily as possible with new and familiar sensations and states of mind. This will be a challenge, but hopefully a productive one. In those same 20 days, I have: - Two ex-girlfriends of mine with each of whom I would dearly love to absolutely waste an entire day in active conversation and directionless activity - Two ex-girlfriends of best friends with each of whom I have promised to go somewhere new and do something strange - Two people I have met but do not remember who wish to meet with me out of the blue - Two Christmas parties thrown by my two brothers - Two cities I have pledged to finally visit after years of missed opportunities and half-hearted apologies - A date two years coming, at least one year too late, full of, by now, too much confused expectation and thoroughly muddled emotions - A night spent with a recovering drug addict, discussing the nature of life, addiction, and everything in between - A night which will take me from the top of Chicopee to my refuge on the golf course, surveying the length and breadth of my city There are those friends with whom I must schedule time to speak as though scheduling a dispassionate meeting between business partners. Today I realise that I have been one of those for years without realising it; always invited to parties, movies, events, rarely 'gracing' them with my presence, yet always invited back. When - and how, and WHY - did I become popular? How is it that when I place a call to the most interesting people I have ever met, they seem excited to receive it? I am only me. I can and must be more than that. In 20 days, I will be, in some way or another. 1 comment | post a comment
 So young, so many. All of them influence my life very strongly - positively or negatively? Terms deceptively, invitingly straightforward in their application. Who can ever claim to have accurately tallied their lives, grasping at each and every sandy grain of experience and deigning to measure out their relative weights against each other? Up and down, high and low, a million potential reasons for and against... What has this one cost me? How much has that? What have they given me? I would not be the person I am today without each and every one of them, and despite many serious misgivings, I am profoundly proud in many ways of that person and the challenges he has overcome despite his best efforts; the friends he has gained, the women he has known, the things he has seen. I owe some of my addictions a debt of gratitude so enormous that I could never lie so wretchedly as to pretend otherwise. I have always had the presence of mind to view them through eyes heavy with suspicion yet damnably slow to react; inertia is a comfortable word, and upheaval requires new calculations be added to the ornately transcribed big book of life. Yet something difficult is not not-worth doing because it is so. Surely, something ephemeral is not worth fighting for when the battle you undertake eventually pits you against something enduringly beautiful. What has this one cost me? Potentially more than I will ever know. Its time must be seen as to have come, or I will surely lose yet more in the future. Mistakes are made and must be acknowledged, yet the past is a lethal weapon; curved and barbed, demonstrated as all too ready to tear into the heart and suspend all time, all forward progress, all dreams of a better future. I know that I will always wrestle the need for self-analysis against the pain of self-immolation, but in this case, the answer is too clear. Too obvious. Too many times acknowledged and then quietly ignored in favour of the easy answer, the quick release, the simple relief. The answer is clear and the path is easier than I think. If I don't walk it, no one will ever be to blame but myself; no one can help, no one will care, no one will notice. Life is cruel and justice is blind, but the blindly rapacious will suffer for their inability to realise the familiarity of the path they walk while the observant emerge with fewer scars. Isn't it time that I put my knowledge of the correct answer to use, instead of shunting it down the line to another day, another excuse, another relapse, another disappointment? How many kicks in the teeth before words of blood-stained and hard-earned wisdom are finally enough to tip the scales? You stupid asshole. What a waste it has been. Goodbye. Good riddance. Grow up. 1 comment | post a comment
 I woke up on Sasha's couch with Sasha, Bobb, Ethan, Zack, and Meghan around I came home from my exam and visited Bobb, Kelly, and Isabelle for dinner I went to pick Jake up at Colin's and saw Alex I went to Ethan's with Jake, Mike, and Zack, who were later joined by Mike Brown, Vanessa, and Sasha I made it home for 4:18 and received a phone call from Jay that lasted until 5 I invited Monica over for a bowl at 5:15, and we talked and monkeyballed until 7AM An interesting cast of characters to encounter in the span of a day, to say the least. I lead an odd life. post a comment |
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