of an end to some of these rituals that are slowly killing me. Seriously, I sit here tonight thinking there’s gotta be less of a few vices in my life because I do actually like myself with a brain and no, I don’t want to end up chewing on my tongue in public like GWB, the dirty frat-boy bastard.
The reason I hate life so much is that I love life so much. You can’t feel a lot and not get hurt, but of course getting hurt is the same as getting angry. I do love life, despite cheap-and-easy appearances. And by God, I really hate it, too. 🙂 Same thing again, I suppose, actually, and yes, I am fully in love with the contradiction as well.
I feel good tonight, as it turns out. I’ve felt good for the last several days, but I’m not gonna say why just to be a bastard. And yeah, it’s true, tomorrow will suck a little harder just because it begins with work and ends with reading, but at the same time, it’s always nice to feel tremendously transparent and (more importantly) tremendously edified. I’m so much less conflicted than usual it’s almost bewildering, like I’ve been granted some kind of absolution.
I’m old enough now to know there’s not a chance in hell that it’ll last, but for a brief flash now and then it’s nice to get a living-life-and-it’s-actually-sorta-swank-no-yeah-fuckin’ high.
“‘Well, and the moral of the story?’ I asked Severin, placing the manuscript on the table.
‘The moral is that I was an ass,’ he cried without turning toward me—he seemed embarassed.”
I think the most optimistic scene ever committed to film is the one in which Marlon Brando is talking to Martin Sheen in Apocalypse Now, before the latter bludgeons the former to death. It paints, more perfectly than any other scene ever has, the process of redemption, at that moment demonstrating through the very act of representation that such a thing exists, if only as a conceptual program.
All programs can, however (in theory), be implemented.
Only the correct tools and some measure of jaw-setting are required, the latter available anywhere age, booze, or fatigue are sold.
Shit, wait, what was I saying about vices?