Whatever I imagine, it is true. Whatever I sense in people, it is real. Why are people so flimsy and thin though? Why can’t they be themselves? Why do they want me to paint their persona for them? Be yourself, dumbass.
I’ve grown so crass. I would like to change back to being a polite sincere gentleman. But I don’t want to force it, either. I don’t want to simply restrict my voice and that’s that, bango, the solution. I want an organic home-grown change. I want something to change me. An experience. I want life to proper me up. Firm and stiff. Like a banjo, ho ho, being strummed by the guests on the lawn in the area courtyard on campus. There’s something alluring about college campuses, isn’t there. I miss it. I wish to redo the whole experience. Is being a professor in a college a healthy experience? Is it… fun? Thrilling, you say? The voices whisper to me. I wonder. Books and intellectuals. Where it’s at.
I have nothing else to say. I just have dreams I don’t want to work hard toward anymore. I want everything to fall into my lap. There, honesty. Laziness, the truth. The truth. I’m not a good person, I’m not strong, I’m not hardy. Nothing good will come out of me.
Reminds me of the literary magazine. But that’s not “hard work” by my standards. Or is it by objective ones?
I’m working on my poetry book and taking turns reading Plath.
I should be programming.
32 and I still have procrastination anxiety. Life is amazing. If I liked the work I wouldn’t hate it. There would be no stalling.
Blame blame blame. And those with the firm glance blame no one but me for my laziness.
Well that’s good. Good cows. Moo moo.
Man I want something out of life. I don’t know what it is. I think this blog is a good thing. I think I need to keep writing.
I think I need to keep my good habits, remember what made me happy and stick to that.
I was thinking about my video game childhood and how it got so destroyed when I gave away all nintendo games and game boys and controllers and just, stupid. Giving away family heirlooms. It’s the closest I feel to having lost a loved one. Losing a part of my childhood memories.
We have all our Playstation titles and consoles still, though, thank God.
Mom entered the room and there was something I desperately wanted to tell her about work. That it can be better. That it doesn’t have to be slavery. But she is a nonbeliever. She, like many, have been beyond subdued, brainwashed into the validity and legitimacy of the corporate 9-5. Yes. We lucky souls residing in this system.
But I was talking about my childhood.
Well do I miss certain games. I need to play FFVIIR (SO GOOD! =D X-D) on my brother’s PS4 in his room he vacated in this house when he moved out nearby south in the little valley we all live in. Sort of. California. Central valley? I don’t know the geography too well.
And here we are with a sizeable post, again! Wonderful! God I have to go to the bathroom again. I poop like 3 times a day. That can’t be normal.
Ugh. Not only is my mind screwed, but my body is too. Strange.