My current situation and some deep ‘philosophical’ thoughts
Sometimes you might find yourself thinking about something that you believe you are an expert of. Like myself, I am deep into my thoughts and they come to me one after another just like glasses of wine I am drinking, one after another, after another; and so into the night and so into my life. People are funny, thinking that they know everything. They like to share their bullshit with you, trying to convince you that whatever they say is the holy truth, the only right way. Usually, I just nod agreeably hoping to get the fuck out of there asap; to escape, avoid the entire situation, avoid everyone, abandon the human race. Sometimes you may feel like you just stuck there and you have to listen to their bullshit which is just simply driving you fucking insane. Why do I always have to be in those stupid situations, talking to the people I hate on topics I don’t give a shit about? Fuck all that, I think I don’t have to suffer anymore. Let somebody else waste their lives on that random bullshit. I am out. I don’t have a fucking minute to waste on any of your stupid problems. I just don’t care.
I am thinking a lot about my future. What is it out there for me? What the hell will I be doing a year from now, two years from now, five… Who knows? Nobody. But we all live and hope for ‘the Best’ and ‘the Best’ is always fucking busy somewhere else but just never by me. Sounds familiar? Ok, good. We are on the same page then. All my life I have been waiting for a miracle, like something unusual might happened to me because I am a special person, the selected one, the fucking best person in the world. But nothing extraordinary did ever happened. It’s been a rough ride for most of my life. Nothing was easy, nothing was free. There was no accidental lottery winning, no credible person solving all of my problems, no lucky charms, no good karma, and not even a bad one. Always with my back up against the wall, I often think, am I on the right path? Am I doing the right thing? Where in the hell will I be if I continue to go this way or that way or if I just remain standing here waiting? What is this all about? Am I somewhere near the place I wanted to be? I do believe though, that some of these questions will find their answers years from now, eventually. But now I will remain here in the dark, questioning and figuring shit out just like a real man should do.
I’ve got kicked from two corporate jobs this year. Two. In one year. What the fuck? What in the fuck is wrong with me or what in the fuck is wrong with 2017? I fucking cannot wait for this year to end and start everything from scratch, from the new, blank page. Fuck, I couldn’t even write anything halfway decent during this year. My life just seemed so fucking miserable and sad. God damn! I wish things would finally improve. I am not saying I was super fucking excited working these two jobs, but a man would do anything for the career, job security, professional experience, health insurance, benefits, 401K, and anything else that goes along with it. I don’t even know what my career is at this point? Where am I going? What do I really want to do besides being an inspired writer who writes shit that probably nobody will ever read? Fuck, half the time I don’t even know what I am writing about. The crazy thing is that just not so long ago, everything has been on the track, everything was going well according to the “big plan” and now, all of a sudden, the shit finally hit the fan. I am lost here in the weeds of life, in the weeds of nothingness and stupid darkness. How will I ever get out of here? Time will heal, time will tell. Hopefully.
I am always thinking about other writers and how they had to go through some tough shit in their own lives. Let’s take a look at Charles Bukowski. The man had lived the most obnoxious, mad, miserable, and rough life. I can’t even imagine anyone in the literary world going through so much shit and still keep writing like a maniac. But he loved writing and took it through all his life regardless of all the suffering. He was able to show the world his “Fuck You” with his work and receive all the recognition that he was always looking to get by the end of his life. Eventually, dying from bad health as a famous writer in the nice paid-off house with a new imported car in the driveway and loving wife by his side. This all sounds just sad, bitter-sweet, but this is life. Life is a drama theater. Life is supposed to put one down on his knees and smack one the back of his head until you realize that you are doing his shit wrong and need to change. Look at the other writers who have suffered, who were misunderstood, who were broke on their luck, health, wealth, and anything else you can imagine, but they all continued to write and get published and got into the history of the literate world. Will I ever get there? Who knows…will see.
I have my radio on, there is some Jägermeister in my coffee, my desk is ready, my laptop is fully charged, and my writing’s coming along bit by bit as I go. I write whatever hits my fan and it all goes on this fine digital paper just like that, nice and easy, painless. I finally got my freedom back, in a way, living the life of an artist, no regular job, no place to go, no career to pursue, no “right” path anymore. I just sit here at my desk, trying to create, write, and live on to the next day and the next and so on. I wake up whenever, smoke a cigarette for breakfast, play some old music loud, get my coffee brewing and my laptop is ready to take me through all this madness to my next thing, to my next adventure.
To be continued…