Procreation of the Wicked

I feel like such a rotten human being sometimes. Not evil or cruel. Just rotten. Small. Weak. Shallow. Just seeking some kind of validation.

It makes me sad, knowing that that is also me. Because somewhere along the line I hurt people I love.

When will I stop mourning myself?

Stench of Decay

Smells are a strange thing. I recently had a night filled with feelings of loss, of abandonment, of loneliness and of a lack of stability. I had a hard time understanding why these feelings surfaced then and there and why it felt so familiar and out of place, why it felt so different from all the other times. It didn't feel like memories, it felt like I was there. And then I realized that it was the smell from the ointment I had recently used for my shoulders that brought it all back (I used that ointment a lot about a year ago because my back and shoulders were fucked for different reasons.).

Strange that.

I met an old pal at the subway on my way to work. Don't really know him that well and he sort of vanished a couple of years back, but I like him. We get along well but it never got any further. Probably because we both are quite anti social. But we might see more of each other in the near future. We'll see. I'm thinking that we both are quite bad at taking a social initiative, so we'll see. Would be nice, though.

I have also been thinking about mental scars. You are in a certain way, behave in a certain way, your thoughts work in certain ways. How much of that is YOU and how much is just... scars? And how nice wouldn't it be if you could actually see what caused those scars? But I don't. Sometimes I think I do, but I don't know. Am I seeing the truth or what I just want to be the truth? I can't allow myself to act on feelings if the base of those feelings are dead wrong, now can I? So how do I know?

Sometimes I almost miss feeling like shit because at least then I did something. Sure, it might just have been walking or sitting in a café drinking coffee and writing or cooking or doing the dishes or whatever. These days I do nothing.

"Here's to you, kid"

I don't think there is any music that so directly, in itself, changes my emotional state than Antony & the Johnsons. Other songs or artists are usually connected to a certain event, but even the Antony-songs isn't, that just got released are really... Heavy. It feels like they are something that I've been listening to for years, with a bottle of cheap scotch and a razor as my only company. Not that it is a bad thing for a song to accomplish. It's just a bit unusual.

Talking about solitary drinking... Some people romanticize drugs, I romanticize alcohol. A bunch of years back when things were fucked up I sometimes went to a specific pub, sat at the bar and drank cheap whiskey. Humphrey Bogart, you know? About a year ago I spent a night at a cemetary drinking 2 bottles of wine (white wine, mind you). Not as much Bogart this time, but still... I'd like to be able to say that my mind and heart matched the surroundings (cold, dead and still) but looking back on it I see that that was when a fire was ignited. Still, the surroundings were fitting.

I have however never used alcohol as a blankie. Not in that direct sense. I do use tobacco (and in a way hunger) that way. And maybe I used music. And maybe something else now.

Someone once said that genius is only genius if it works. If it fails, history will prove it to be madness. Sort of like that.