Date: Thu, 13 November 2008 01:15:35 +0200
To: anyone@interested.net
From: oz
Subject: I ain’t no fucking good

 

Last record: august 27th. Seems everything i touch becomes a big pile of rubbish. Why do i keep deceiving myself? Of course, you may say, it comes in handy to be pised off. Something goes wrong and there i go, down the slope of misery. It’s the easier choice, it may seem. How about losing balance when things do not go wrong? Nor good, for that matter, but that’s a different issue. When there seems to be no obvious reason for feeling like crap? Every now and then one looks behind and what does one see? Well, depends if one has eyes to see. Most people let time do his job, separate good from wrong and nice from ugly and choose to keep the first. Why bother with your mistakes anyways? They are burden, and just like dogs do, we turn our backs to them and pretend those little bits and pieces of poo we left behind were never there. I wish i could do that.

What should i do with my life? I have no skills, no talent, didn’t learn any craft, have no diploma i can brag with, no accomplishments. Almoust hitting thirty and difficult to find a bigger looser than me. Of course, on the surface, from the outside, it all looks nice and shiny. Or acceptable at least. Yes, there are people living in worse conditions, yes, there are people with much worse lives. But what makes life fit to be called “good”? If you feel good? If you are happy? If you own things? If you are free? If you make no mistakes? If you make way too many, but don’t care? If you adore God? If you adore yourself, or your wife, or your children, or your dog? If you are called Bill Gates, or Jeff Lebowski? If you are a capitalist? If you are a communist? All of these, or maybe none? Yes, i think in extremes, but so did that darn monkey ages ago, when it looked down and thought: should i stay in the tree, or move to the ground floor? Survival of the fittest? What a bloody idiocracy. Fit or no, we all survive. Have no other choice. Fucking monkeys.

I guess i’m not wrong, my friends, i’m just an ASSHOLE.

-oz

 

HOME | ARCHIVE | CONTACT