Happy New Year
It's the New Year and one is expected to give a resolution. I'm feeling rather Schopenhauer-ish about the new year. It's the same isn't it? Every year the same struggles for a job, a life, a blow-job from the common denominators of club-addicts. It's the New Year and I'm rising to it half-mast.
You see, I'm an optimist. I am. I see life in hues of briliance, occasionally marred by the texture of depression. But I am an optimist.
Who the fuck am I kidding? I'm a bloody pessimist. It's coming out of the closet all over again. "I can't help that feeling, you know, pessimist feeling..." I hear the re-written song in my head. How depressing.
I don't bother with resolutions anymore. I remember when I was in high school and I made the resolution that I would get first in class and get to the best express level. Well... life has a sense of humour. I went straight to the last express class. It's like one of those trains which calls each cabin an express cabin but the one you're in smells like the refuge for deseased animals. What could get worst? Again... life has humour. I am physiologically forced to breathe and mature and to witness the cackling cacophony of life's comic genius. It's disgusting.
Don't pray for me Australiana. Evita has intruded suddenly. I never go to church. I don't even know what the bread tastes like. Don't even ask about the wine. I'm too unholy for such blessings. A resolution perhaps to be more spiritual? Pah! I can't meditate without thinking about the cute bulge on the waiter in Norfolk and I sure as hell can't spend 2 hours of my life chanting without having an Oedipal complex with my cigarette. Nope. Spirituality is out of the damn question.
So - the resolution seems kinda stuck. The mundane possibilities of success in any resolution lies in the fact that it has to be so simple a task that one has to be almost completely stupid not to be able to fulfil. Breathing does not count. There are those however who scale up the probabilities of their resolutions to nigh impossibility. For example, masochists who intend to quit smoking or vegans who are hell bent on trying cow testicals. I don't make resolutions for this reason. It's either too simple a task that would scream pathetic or it's too difficult and painstaking. Take the middle-ground you say? Ask any fence-sitter how many concussions they've suffered in their lifetime and you'll know why the middle ground sucks. So - to hell with the resolutions.
Happy New Year? Yes, yes... there is that possibility - when I have my first orgy, with a hard-on that lasts for more than 10 minutes. No, I don't need Viagra. I need a dedicated mouth. Happy new Year? Of course. I'll take it with some salt, vinegar, English mustard and Thai chilli. I'm burning with ecstasy. Happy New Year fellas. If you have one, grab it by the balls and squeeze real hard. You never know when the next one arrives.
Happy New Year! :)
You see, I'm an optimist. I am. I see life in hues of briliance, occasionally marred by the texture of depression. But I am an optimist.
Who the fuck am I kidding? I'm a bloody pessimist. It's coming out of the closet all over again. "I can't help that feeling, you know, pessimist feeling..." I hear the re-written song in my head. How depressing.
I don't bother with resolutions anymore. I remember when I was in high school and I made the resolution that I would get first in class and get to the best express level. Well... life has a sense of humour. I went straight to the last express class. It's like one of those trains which calls each cabin an express cabin but the one you're in smells like the refuge for deseased animals. What could get worst? Again... life has humour. I am physiologically forced to breathe and mature and to witness the cackling cacophony of life's comic genius. It's disgusting.
Don't pray for me Australiana. Evita has intruded suddenly. I never go to church. I don't even know what the bread tastes like. Don't even ask about the wine. I'm too unholy for such blessings. A resolution perhaps to be more spiritual? Pah! I can't meditate without thinking about the cute bulge on the waiter in Norfolk and I sure as hell can't spend 2 hours of my life chanting without having an Oedipal complex with my cigarette. Nope. Spirituality is out of the damn question.
So - the resolution seems kinda stuck. The mundane possibilities of success in any resolution lies in the fact that it has to be so simple a task that one has to be almost completely stupid not to be able to fulfil. Breathing does not count. There are those however who scale up the probabilities of their resolutions to nigh impossibility. For example, masochists who intend to quit smoking or vegans who are hell bent on trying cow testicals. I don't make resolutions for this reason. It's either too simple a task that would scream pathetic or it's too difficult and painstaking. Take the middle-ground you say? Ask any fence-sitter how many concussions they've suffered in their lifetime and you'll know why the middle ground sucks. So - to hell with the resolutions.
Happy New Year? Yes, yes... there is that possibility - when I have my first orgy, with a hard-on that lasts for more than 10 minutes. No, I don't need Viagra. I need a dedicated mouth. Happy new Year? Of course. I'll take it with some salt, vinegar, English mustard and Thai chilli. I'm burning with ecstasy. Happy New Year fellas. If you have one, grab it by the balls and squeeze real hard. You never know when the next one arrives.
Happy New Year! :)
posted by Insouciantfemme at 6:16 pm
2 Comments:
Happy New Year Insouci,
I have found that an archive of memory, both hauntingly achingly beautiful and darkly comedic, combined with flits of melancholy,flashes of madness and skirmishes with ecstacy is essential reference material for identifying, stalking, confronting, and pinning opportunity. Think you are well prepared for 2006.
Wishing you unanticipated new adventure.
If only I had your optimism friend. :) But nevertheless, I shall strive to greater heights of humour to thwart this inimical entity called Reality.
;P
I.F.
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