Monday, January 18, 2010
Ok for one second snap yourself out of the pop-culture bubble you live in. Stop your daily intake of gossip, rumors, top ten lists, blogs, reviews and interviews. Take a deep breath of everyday life. Fuck that burns, it burns with the stench of unfulfilled dreams, to do lists, unfilled internet surveys, dirty laundry, half eaten sandwiches, simmering lust, and burning desperation. Let me back inside the bubble before I expire. Every time I try to embrace my awkward humanity I find it too much to bear. Its too real for me to touch. I'm afraid, like a clumsy dad holding his first born I afraid I'll break it . I'm scared that as much as I want it I wouldn't be able to coexist with it. Let me sit passenger side and watch life pass me by from the side view mirror. Its much more relaxing this way. Its so much easier to pass judgment and advice when its too late to do anything with it and I'm already on my way out of town. I like my movies to be realistic and my life to be idealistic. Let film portray the gritty boring everyday truths and let life be grand and moving. I think I got it backwards. I'm living in Pleasantville while on Tv I'm watching a documentary on the morning routine of the average American adult male, fascinating. Will I ever be ok with being normal, with being just like my parents, just like my neighbors, just like you. When will I relish my role as the consumer and realize I am not the creator. I am just a dumb American. Will these feelings that I am bigger than my environment, my history, everything thats ever conspired against me to hold me back, ever go away. Are they just illusions of grandiosity to protect me from the harsh reality of my own existence or do they hold any resemblance to truth. At this point I could give a fuck less I think I would be fine with either one. Just someone pick one for me tell me what to do and I'll move one. There are no answers only questions. Life isn't a book. I cant wrap it up with a clever ending that ties all the loose ends together and makes me seem like a literary genius. No it doesn't work that way. Life is a joke with no punchline, a story with no revelatory moral, a painting thats just colors on canvas. Life is not Art. I'm sorry I ever thought it was.