musings on a friday morning
2002-09-28 ::: 6:54 p.m.

I find myself steeped in anonymity, by my own design, and I enjoy it. I can watch the world pass by quietly. Peacefully I am able to observe unhindered. I can discretely insert myself into the throng of mediocrity and not be hassled. Oh, what a life.

IMPENETRABLE

I see myself perched high above the earth loking down and wondering; is it I who is living the lie, or is it indeed the lie living me? (do I live life, or does life live me?) Am I merely a figment of my own imagination? Are these situations, these people, this life all someting I have created to keep my mind occupied while it sleeps/rests/struggles through some other task I am "consciously" unaware of? Is my physical existence merely the manifestations of a preoccupied conscious? Am I nothing more than a suppressed character of the subconscious?

He seemed like the kind of motherfucker who stood in front of the mirror and practiced all of his facial expressions, picking out those which made him look "sexier" adding them to his repertoire. The kind of person who only spent time reading up on the latest fashins and accessorizing accordingly. The kind of fucker you just want to throw in the mud and laugh until you choke, solely because his life revolves around his clothing. Just punch his pretty face in and temporarily add teeth to his diet. Well-groomed hair, slick clothes, pretentious look.... "would you still act like this if you were stranded on a deserted island?" I think not. As soon as you stepped into the wilderness it would swallow you whole and would completely destroy you, you little fake bastard. Goddamned pretty-boy motherfucker. They're all the same. Every last one of them. They make me sick. They are exactly what is wrong with our society today. This throw-away wasteful generation. Precisely what needs to be cleaned away, swept under rugs and into dark corners. The whole bloody lot........

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