So I haven't written publicly by and large for some time now. As to why that is the case, I can merely say the lack of verbiage is due to my personal self-repugnance, or antipathy because I have not felt as though what I have to say is worth sharing. In fact this is the fifth paragraph out of the brood of ten that has survived. The others, sad to say have died off; slaughtered by the space bar. But we can get into my own personal scourging later, for if writing was my religion then I'd truly be upon the pyre.
But I just wanted to share this song, like I normally do with any of you who are out there to experience it.
It has been a rather emotional experience since deciding to get a Masters degree in England. Not only have I found my self entangled with academic problems, but I have also led a life of debauchery. In the quiet moments of reflection today, after Skyping with my parents (to tell them how broke I am) I hunted and pecked for a song to listen to as I sat there and decayed in front of my blank dissertation. As my fingers squirreled away, with my eyes scanning the endless fields of my music library I decided to hit shuffle on an old playlist that I had made for a girl. Her laugh was the greatest part of my day for a short period of time.
Ah yes, those playlists. I'm fairly positive that I have listened to, and adversely fallen in love with myself more times than any other female has... That's because they probably never listened to them. And each time I realize that they probably never listened to any of my artisan mixes a new ulcer grows within my stomach, causing my heart to corrode just a little more. So why did I hit the shuffle button on the mix titled, "Is that you, Scully"? Because I am a self-destructive putz, that's why. I'm fairly positive that if sadness was an actual pill-like substance, I would have overdosed on it publicly on a commuter bus sporting some "L.A. Lights" and a Reel Big Fish shirt from the thrift store.
Also, for your information. I changed the name of that playlist just now. So, none of you will know which one it was if you so chose to follow me on Spotify. *game changer*
But yes, the song. The song that played was Happiness by Riceboy Sleeps. You know -- that side project of Sigur Ros? The side project that still manages to sound completely the same but you don't care because it still makes you cry the good cry. You know what that good cry is too. It feels like doves from the heavens are shitting warm pallets of butter on you while you're sat in a hot tub that some how manages to be a portal to every sentimental thing that had happened in you life.
Or maybe that's just me.
Either way, as I was listening to it, I recalled an interview with Louis C.K. on the Conan show. He went on as to why he won't give his children cellphones yet. It was a great interview and in it he said, "We don't know how to be alone anymore." Louis went on to tell a story of when he was driving his car on the highway and then suddenly felt the sadness of being alone start to intrude upon his thoughts. But instead of getting out his phone and looking for a fetishistic quick connection via text/facebook/whatever he just pulled over. Turned off his car, and let it happen. He had a good cry.
To make a dumb story short, as I sat there listening to this song that was dedicated to a lady as lovely as Dana Scully I started to feel that loneliness begin to waft into my rib cage. I even reflected on what Louis C.K. said!!!
And I did the exact opposite.
I messaged a girl that I liked.
One that now knows.
Oh, glory! Right?
You know that feeling when you've just exposed your self, and not in the flasher-in-the-park manner either? Well it feels like your stomach is a decaying cocoon for a heaping pile of old hefty pudding packs swirling around like hot liquid garbage set right out side the gates of an abandoned cathedral...
or you just feel lame.
After I texted her, I let the phone lay there in my palm for a second.
About four seconds pasted when I realized.
I realized that I don't know how to be alone, and that is some tough shit.
I guess, to make a long story short. I'm going to start writing again. I'm going to write about the people I've seen. The places I've gone. The money I've wasted on train tickets, booze, films, books, printing papers, down payments, and alas... on a broken Xbox 360 (mother fucker). Why? Because when I write, I don't pick up my phone.
So yeah, check this song out. Maybe you'll think of some prodigious shit.
No comments:
Post a Comment