Weighing In - II

Sometimes I sleep in the master closet, stretched out between rows of shoes, a winter coat added to my usual pile of blankets. The air does not move, and there is an odor of cedar that seems to grow stronger the longer I remain. The closet is similar to what I would want in a tomb, and is therefore a fine place to meditate on death. My closet renders death a warm, familiar, pleasantly scented thing.

-Marcus Gill, New York, NY, 2000


Writing cannot alert a reader to the purposelessness of life intending to give the reader hope. Once the world's mask has been removed, exposing the void where a face should be (or where we believe one should be), it cannot be put back on. Writing can remove that mask, and on rare occasions replace it with a new, temporary one, but that is all. Words cannot create meaning when meaning does not exist.

-Patricia Sklar, Marblehead, MA, 1952

I'd buy booze from this dude.

http://slanginliquorinthehood.blogspot.com/

Good stuff.

At least...

I'm drinking plenty of coffee these days.

Apropos of nothing, I know, but I was compelled to mention it.

Weighing In - I

It is imperative that unpleasant activities and environments be mitigated as much as possible, internal unpleasantness not necessarily excluded. However, the means of lessening the world's unpleasantness is one that should not be taken up without careful contemplation. I might suggest a method or two, but refrain from doing so, knowing that most who would apply such methods have no desire to be taken for miscreants of the highest order.

-Hernán Ochoa Dagú, Mérida, Yucatán, 1937


"Life's work" is bullshit. Everyone dies long before they've done anywhere near what they thought or hoped they'd do. Believing there's a master plan or some list of achievements laid out for each of us is stupid, and acting on that belief is even more stupid. It sets us up for disappointment and doesn't let us enjoy what's actually here in front of us. That kind of thinking takes away all the worth of leaving things unfinished, or never started at all. Failure becomes a mortal sin (and you can fucking guarantee people who believe in "God's plan" or their "life's work" believe in sin). What a joke! Why miss out on the beauty of failure or incompleteness or not doing something because we think our lives have some grand scheme? It's delusional, total self-delusion. God fucking forbid we admit we don't amount to much of anything, as far as our neighbors and the universe are concerned.

-Star Miller, Helena, MT 1988

escape

I'm drunk, just so you know. Doesn't mean any of the following is untrue (or sensible). Not that much will follow.

-Life, generally speaking, almost never excites me these days.
-I wish I'd been more of a miscreant in high school.
-She. Oh, she!
-Neck hurts.
-Bully soundtrack: missing only one crucial song.
-Marbles/ball bearings: check inventory.
-I miss Floyd boy.
-"Con su gusano.: Down the hatrch.
-I wanna move to Bullworth Vale.

Like I said, drunk. Thanks to every poor soul that's ever come on you.