The most disappointing thing about my web-log is that I frequently find myself with nothing to say. My mind is a chaotic mess of noise, teeming with something, like insects eating each-other or something, and yet I often find myself dry-heaving absolute nothingness, sitting blank with a pen and notebook or finding something entirely else, entirely less satisfying than writing, to do online. I am sure there was something insidious about the dream I had last night. It had nothing to do with killing my children, in case you're wondering.
My inability to connect with human beings is proving to be more of a handicap than I had expected. "Fine!' I told myself long ago. "Fuck them. Who even needs friends? Only needy people need friends."
As it turns out, three years into "abandoning" all my friends by default (the ones you just end up with based mostly on geographical location and popular-ness factor), there are an extremely limited number of people I talk to besides my wife. I won't tell you the number of people, since using a relative term like "limited", it will mean an equal amount of pathetic to everybody, regardless of their limitless capacity to meet people.
I even stooped as low as to look in the craigslist ads section "strictly platonic", but the three people there who were not looking for "just friendly hand-jobs, then we'll see what happens" seemed pathetic to me. Their content was perfectly normal, but only pathetic people look for friends on craigslist. I have to have some standards, right?
You would have to really really fucking impress me to have me respond to a friendship ad on craigslist Baltimore, tomorrow... I can do hand-jobs.
No comments:
Post a Comment