Wednesday, September 24, 2008
[The Wisdom of a Distracted Mind] Portal Z.
Here's a door for you.
If it makes you think of anything, do share with the rest of the class.
Now, to help you think, I will say that this came from the abandoned airplane factory down the street. So, let your minds wander back to a time when air-travel was a new and exciting thing and that wild, blue yonder was an unexplored, vast expanse.
When the workers went in and out through this door, don't you wonder what may have been on their minds?
Could any of them possibly understand the role their creations would play in the world today?
Other than that, I'm cranked on opiates today (what else is new), and I don't think anyone should expect anything from me other than my being a drooling, unintelligible, fucking potatohead.
Yeah. I'm angry. I get like that some days, and this morning was very, very rough. My hands are shot. My knees are trashed. Feet, neck, shoulders, etc.? All fucked and filled with pain.
The thing is, I've been bitching about this stuff for what seems like an eternity, and I'm sure you're all just as tired --if not more-- of reading about my gripes, grumbles and sundry troubles. However, for whatever reason, I think it's nice to have not only an outlet upon which to unload these gripes, but it's also maybe a good idea to have an updating chronicle of these complaints in the hopes that, one day, I may be able to look back and remember just how pissed off I truly was.
It's just very strange how a chronic, endless pain can weasel its way into your every single action and thought to alter and twist the way you do simple, ordinary things. I think anyone who's ever broken a finger, sprained an ankle, twisted a knee, mashed a toe or suffered some other sort of injury for even a temporary time can relate. It's annoying.
So yeah. I think you'll find me whining here and listing the things which hurt. And, I'll apologize for that ahead of time, and if you don't want to read them, please don't. But, this is the only journal I am keeping, and it seems like as good of a place as any for this nonsense. For some reason, though, I think it's important to keep a log ofthe day's troubles. Perhaps in writing about them, I may actually find an answer, a catharsis, or some level of relief.
Anyway, I am not asking for your pity or any of your sympathy. I don't want it, and I don't need it. Trust me. In this day and age, I'm willing to bet each and every one of you have your own mountains to climb, and you all are probably saddled with something unfair, unwanted, and painful. You'd be crazy if you allowed the insignificant troubles of a largely anonymous blogger into your hearts. Really. You've got better things to care about, people.
Nonetheless, somewhere inside me is a sense of humor. Unfortunately, it's pretty easy for pain, or even a bad day, to trump this sense of humor and ability to laugh as it gets ground into the dirt by a big, unhappy boot.
Don't worry, though. In the end, it is just me writing about me. I don't think I can entertain, enchant or enlighten in every post I write, and I think I'd be an idiot to try. I'd gotten off track and forgotten about why it is I decided to keep one of these blogs in the first place. As a result, entries were forced, thoughts were inevitably strained, and when you do that in the world of the written word, you abandon the elegance that makes it appealing in the first place.
Finally, if you find this collection of words and prattle difficult to grasp, don't think too much about it. This stream of conscious babblefest is nothing more than me trying to find a way of writing about things. Trust me. I have a sense of humor. It's just usually overshadowed by my frustration. So, unloading that frustration here may actually help.
We'll see how it goes. But, boy-o-boy, I am one seriously grumpy motherfucker today. And, it's a good thing I am staying in and loafing around while everything hurts; otherwise, I would probably throat-punch a bag lady. Really... With my mood being what it is, if I went to the movies today, it'd turn into a bloodbath because the person behind me would be talking, then their throat would be slit, and I'm sure I'd have to silence the subsequent screams of all the other terrified folks because all that panicked screeching makes it impossible to watch a simple fucking movie.
So, it's best to stay indoors and see what's on cable.
Posted By Dan to The Wisdom of a Distracted Mind at 9/24/2008 11:21:00 AM