I'm about to go have my morning cigarette, an unfiltered "early" morning affair between tobacco and my lungs. The lust that drives these lovers borders on rage, the way they tear into one another, it's greedy is what it is. They must be searching for something in the deepest part of one another and the only way to find it is by clawing your way through flesh and bone.
Melodramatique aside, I smoke because i want to.
Everyone tells me to stop smoking; my parents, aunts, uncles, brothers, sisters, cousins, whichever. Stop before it kills you, stop before it's too late, but they're the ones that should stop. Stop encouraging me that is.
If you don't understand that contradiction, then you sure as hell won't understand this one:
Anyone who has taken a Philosophy course has probably encountered the trite concept of 'ultimately seeking absolute truth,' depending on the particular focus of the line of study. The idea being that there must be absolute truths out there; tid-bits so tantalizing they are sure to sate even the most ravenous of intellectual appetites.
Alas, I was lead to believe, through semi-empirical evidence and group discussion, that we as a race of thinkers have thus far come up with none. And no, Death is not considered an absolute truth because of the disagreement generated by the cornucopia of religions out there.
Anyway, my point here is that i found one. A concept undeniable by any single person, ideology, religion, philosophy or otherwise.
One word is all i'll give you, and if that's not enough....c'est la vie. You didn't know before, why should you know now?
Because more is exactly what you need and MORE is the only word i'll give you.
So there, settle for simply More if you want, but it won't get you anywhere.
Well gosh, seeing as how this is just another chance for me to talk to myself, i might as well reciprocate.
Turn on some conversatical action and really develop that sense of panic i get when i realize that i have never had a conversation with another person like the many i've had with myself.
I hope this doesn't turn into me stroking my dystrophic ego for the implied audience impinged upon me by the steady glare of the camera; the very presence of which is enough to trick me into thinking that there might actually be some table-scrap-audience out there that has a real desire to listen to me.
Can you blame me for being camera shy?
If i succeed, i will have confirmed my mediocrity by being crowned King of Less Than, for a day at least.
If i fail, i will have become not quite enough to get noticed, but not so little that i'm not wanted for my placeholder heritage.
Oh wait, that's right....You aren't even real.
This is it.
i have an over whelming urge to be apart of something coupled with a horrible fear of community.
My life is easy, and i know it. And it drives me absolutely crazy to know that no matter what i do, no matter how bad i fuck things up, everything will still be okay.
Everything keeps moving, whether you walk, run, or crawl, time goes by in a cavalcade of brilliant pageantry.
Then i look back on the unseemly trail of horse shit and great heaps of rubbish left like a love note in a freshly poured sidewalk just outside a fast food joint.
This parade just keeps stomping by, and here i am, utterly aghast, the only one on the curb to catch the too-sweet candy they shower their imagined crowd with.
As the candy chews my teeth, i can't help but wonder: How can they keep celebrating? Don't they see what i see?
But then i remember, i'm the one on display and i have no right.
I was left alone recently, much to my persistent and tepid dismay, and i couldn't help but wonder why everything i do always has to be the last thing i do.
For once, i'd like a chance for twice.