At least I'm trying to wake up.
I'd like to tell you I have something to say but the truth is I haven't had anything to say for so long I'm not sure I know what to do any more.
It's now 5:15 am and I still have nothing to say.
I am resisting the impulse to wax dramatic. To lament. That is my old stand by - to dredge up emotional muck from the bottom of the barrel, stir it up, and then describe the bits of flotsam as they swirl by.
But right now the smallest effort to communicate seems impossible - as if I am trying to re-create the universe - and I can't help but think of the young man in "American Beauty" who describes his heart as being so full it might explode.
But that's not quite right either, so I continue on as Dave Mathew's "so much to say, so much to say, so much to say..." rattles around like a pea in the dried little gourd of my head. And as the pop culture references continue to "pop" up, I realize I am tired of mouthing platitudes.
It's all some polished bull sh*t version of something, not even myself.
The thing is...
(throat clearing noise)
The thing is -honestly- I've f*cking bought in.
I bought in to a bunch of pretty lies and I knew better.
It's comical, really, but the worst part is - not just that I did it to myself - but that I did it for the hell of it. Just to see if I could.
And while I'm not ready to burn it all down, I am ready, at least, to laugh derisively at myself and others for joining in to...
"The Emperor's New Clothes"
"The American Dream"
"The American Dream"
I am now the proud owner of a new house. Well, a condo at least.
I bought in during the Down Market as to obtain more Value for my Dollar and have Maximized my Investment Potential.
What is a condo, you may ask? It's a concept really. You buy a condo and you own everything from the studs in - air, mostly. And the right to pay HOA fees, of course.
HOA fees. What a concept. And I am paying them, willingly.
In fact, I got in line. I jumped through hoops. I went out of my way so I could have the privilege of paying fees to an institution I've always found inherently repulsive.
Want someone to tell you what to do and how to do it? Join an HOA.
It's the closest thing to Nazi-ism I can think of in modern American culture today - in a beige sort of way, anyway.
And for what do I get in return for these fees? Nothing really.
In fact, I own nothing.
Each month I pay a cell phone bill, a car payment, a house payment.
I own none of these things.
And I am smiling right now, grimacing and shaking my head as I think of the extremely large joke I've played on myself.
I could laugh until I cry.
(Well no, not really, but it's only because I've become so goddamn well adjusted that nothing seems to bother me that much anymore - I feel as if I've slipped a velvet noose around my neck for the pleasurable sensation.*)
It's now 7 and I am really, really f*cking late.
Maybe this is why I don't blog anymore.
*Hey! Why not a little auto-asphyxiation while I'm at it? That would complete the whole self-destructive pleasure scenario quite nicely, don't you think?