Half-grown wankers

I'm not sure if it's local to this area, but the "alternative" crowd of teenagers is incredibly lame. 

Their jokes are terrible, and they have an open, accepting community...at shows, I notice how they stay together in large communal blobs, both indoor and out.  It seems unnatural for angst-driven rockers to not fragment into small sub-groups. 

And they're not even that angry.

The guys in the local bands they look up to are weak and soft.  They've never done hallucinogenics, or probably ever lived any harrowing experiences.  They don't understand any deep truths about the world. 

Some are fat vegans.

Whatever horrible, ineffectual, lame music they all play (all the "indie" bands), they play out of that shit-hole.  There is no alternative to the alternative.

It wouldn't be so bad if they didn't think they were all so awesome and hip, those half-grown wankers.  

I want to burn all of my possessions in a fire and drive away in the middle of the night

Better just borrow gobs of money and take a bunch of classes.  Better do what everyone suggests.  Better get a frontal lobotomy.

Misanthropy, or something like it.

Right now, I don't want any friends.

All the ones I have, I don't want to be around.

I'll admit to being jealous of everyone else living self-sufficient lives, all the while I'm here - going nowhere, or just moving so slowly it seems like time isn't progressing.  It's true though: I've counted on other people too much in my life in some ways, and now it's time to cut the umbilical.

Like I said, I don't want to talk to any of the people I know, because they've already judged me for something I may or may not be...and that's unsettling.  It makes me feel raw and uncomfortable. 

I'll go somewhere I don't know anyone, and take care of myself without judgement being passed on me, or contemptuous gossip, a place where I can have tabula rasa.

Monday

I used to feel like I was on fire, bursting into flames from violent emotional discord.  I turned every external rejection inward, amplified my misery, felt worthless.  These days, not so much.  Classify it under the condition of "growing up."  At some point we all have to realize that we're all just here confused, trying to do the best we can with the little time we have, and life is hard on everyone.  It helps to remember that free will is something of an illusion, considering we are all programmed by our peers, parents, events, etc. to act just like we do...things in the universe aren't random, just very large, intricate and subtle.  Galaxies move in spiral patterns, with revolving solar systems and planets inside them, with humanity somewhere on a dust mote in that vastness of space, living our little lives like clockwork.  So, when I'm feeling blue, or angry because of other people, I just have to step back and remember that we're all just operating like we're programmed to...we're being true to our natures, even if those natures are hurtful to others, or ourselves. If I took every blow as I perceived it, I'd break apart into nothing before too long, or the friction would set me on fire...better to look at life like it is: intangible...so when the hurt comes, it just evaporates into smoke and blows past, making me effectively untouchable.  What concerns me lately is Time...utilizing it effectively, being productive, changing, growing, moving...I've been a prisoner of imposed fears and familial obligations for the past two years, and I think my sentence is almost up.  Maybe some people are naturally lonely, I'm not sure, I think I may be one of those people...not that I mind, really - it's a sign of strength to be alone with yourself for long periods of time...you really get to know yourself.  Perhaps, though, it's a matter of numbers and geography, and one has to get up and move and just trust in oneself that loneliness is just an isolated incident that can be overcome eventually.  I've gotten over feeling sorry for myself and screaming into the dark.  I'm cutting my strings and going for a walk.  I think I might be walking for a while.

A world of beautiful women

I fall in love with women daily.  It doesn't always last the same amount of time, it doesn't mean I'll love them, or some aspect of them forever (perhaps unconsciously), but then again, I may, and sometimes think I will, even though I haven't gotten to that point yet, that vague blur of possibility.  I'm a great admirer of beauty.  I'm wrapped up in aesthetics.  I have a wealth of vanity.  Balancing girls like spinning plates while I'm walking to nowhere.  Feeling like a spectator.  Talking talking talking.  To the casual observer I'll be moving and speaking and entertaining, natural as a river running, but a river whose bed is frozen, where only the top is moving, but even this is an illusion.  Being alone with someone.  Looking at them, letting the images crystalize, face, hands, a rug, oblique light, music, smell, a vague crystal of memory.  Desire.  Ambiguity.  Pictures.  Walls of pictures...cities...civilizations of images of women.  And at night, I dream of people who I have never seen, and may never, and I wonder if they're alive, or were alive, or will be, and if I'll know them, or whether I've met people and I just can't remember.  I walk around the world of beautiful women, and they affect me, they all affect me, every one, the kind and the cruel.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9So-TLZwXmA

Books Needed

The Painter of Modern Life & Other Essays by Charles Baudelaire
Petersburg by Andrei Biely
The Foundation Pit by Robert Chandler
Forty Stories by Donald Barthelme
Sixty Stories by Donald Barthelme
Ferdydurke by Witold Gombrowicz
The Street of Crocodiles and Other Stories by Bruno Schultz
The Microscripts by Robert Walser
Dance With Snakes by Horacio Castellanos Moya
Johannes Cabal, the Necromancer by Jonathan L. Howard
The Manual of Detection by Jedediah Berry
Run River by Joan Didion
The People of Paper by Salvador Plascencia
The Crystal World by J.G. Ballard
Tintin in the New World: a Romance by Frederic Tuten
The Law of Dreams by Peter Behrens
Away by Jane Urqhart
The Golden Age by Michal Ajvaz