Just Another Sad Bastard BlogpostNovember 20, 2010 at 3:57 am | Posted in katarsis | 17 Comments
Tags: 28, lost, nick hornby
This is what happens when you’re 28 and miserable (when you realize that you’re not in the league of Kurt Cobain, Chairil Anwar, Jim Morrison [of course not!] and others who died a legend when they were 27). You begin to feel that you’ve done nothing in the past eight years; that whatever you do now is either too late, useless or completely irrelevant. F**k. The only thing I know for sure about life — apart from the fact that it sucks and is bloody f**king short — is that I could never know for sure what it’s all about. Maybe that’s why I keep writing about it (I’m doing it right now). Those who quit writing either have already got the answers — right or wrong, it doesn’t matter — for all the big questions in life or are blessed with a decent job and a lovely wife to sleep
and f**k with on a lazy Sunday. But I could be wrong, though. Many a happy person can write, even though, well, he usually writes about how superficially happy he is or how he’s annoyingly being positive about everything. And that’s just horrible, horrible, horrible. You know, it’s not that I hate happy people and have no desire at all to be happy. It’s just that, you know, life sucks. And that’s just the way it does. It sucks. That’s why it’s real, deep and real. And deep. And that’s why I keep questioning. And keep writing. But I‘m probably wrong. Life’s not bad, actually. It has pop music, women and cigarettes. And I like money, for sure. I want money. Well, the fact is, I always need more money. And that’s actually the very reason why life sucks big time. Women? I presume you my male readers concur with me that women are often the source of our misery; that guilt, that jealousy, that insecurity, everything, every little thing they do can reduce you into a piece of shit. But that’s life. It, as I said a zillion of times, sucks. It’s meaningless. And has nothing to teach you, but, perhaps, the notion that suffering is its most lyrical poetry. And so now I’m wondering why the blogosphere is depressingly quiet lately. I know many of my fellow bloggers are under 25. They shouldn’t be miserable as I am. Maybe they’re just bored. Maybe we’re just bored. Maybe we’re just numb. Or maybe the younger generation get older and wiser sooner than I do. Or, maybe…ah, f**k it.
You do know cigarettes kill, don’t you? I quit smoking (again), btw.