My shit’s out of luck – current situation and some deep ‘philosophical’ thoughts
Sometimes you find yourself thinking about something that you believe you are an expert of. Like myself, I am deep in my thoughts, and they just come one after another, just like glasses of wine I am drinking, one after another, after another and so into the night and so on into the life. People are funny when they think that they know everything. They like to share their bullshit with you and they try to convince that whatever they say is the only right thinking, is the only right way. Often times I just nod agreeably hoping to get the fuck out of there, to escape to avoid the entire situation to avoid the human race. Sometimes you may feel like you just stuck in there and you have to listen and it is driving you fucking insane. Why always I have to be in some stupid situation like that, talking to the people I hate about the 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 the random bullshit. I am out. I don’t have a fucking time to waste on any of our problems. I just don’t care.
I am thinking a lot about the future too. What is it out there for me? What the hell will I be doing a year from now, two years, five… Who knows? Nobody. But we all live and hope for ‘the Best’ and ‘the Best’ is fucking busy somewhere else, but just not near me. Sounds familiar? Ok, good, we are on the same page. All my life I have been waiting for the miracle that something unusual will happen to me. Like I am a special person, the selected one, the lucky one, the best fucking one, but nothing of an extraordinary did ever happen to me. It’s been tough to fight all my life and to figure out, 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 for a while? What is this all about but I am nowhere near the place I always wanted to be? Some of these questions will find their answers years from now. But now I will remain here questioning and figuring shit out just like the good old days.
I’ve got kicked from two corporate jobs this year. Two. In one year. What the fuck? What the fuck is wrong with me or what the fuck is wrong with 2017? I fucking cannot wait for this year to finally end and start everything from the scratch. Fuck, I couldn’t even write anything halfway decent during this year. So miserable and sad. God damn! I wish things will finally improve. I am not saying I was super fucking excited doing those two jobs, but there goes my job security, experience, health insurance, benefits, 401K, and anything else that counts as a career perk. 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 inspiring writer who writes shit that probably nobody will ever read? Fuck, I don’t even know what am I writing about. The crazy thing is that just not so long ago everything has been on the track, everything would be going well, according to the big plan, and now all of the sudden, the shit hits the fan, I am lost here in the weeds of life, in the weeds of nothingness. How will I ever get out of here? Time will heal, time will tell, hopefully, I could hear it and make the right or a better choice for myself. Hopefully. I am always thinking about other writers, and how they had to go thru some tough shit on their own. Look at Bukowski. This man had suffered the most but still was able to show the world his ‘Fuck You’ and His Work and get a recognition that he was always looking for to get. Dying as a famous writer in the nice house, with a nice car in the driveway, the loving wife, this all just sounds too dramatic, but this is life. Life is a drama, life is supposed to put one down on his knees and smack on the back of his head until he realizes that he’s doing his shit wrong begins 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 did continue and did write and got published and got into the history of the literature world. Will I ever be there? Who knows…will see.
I have my radio on, there is some Jägermeister in my coffee, my desk is ready, my laptop charged, my writing’s coming along and I write. I write whatever hits my fan and it all goes on this fine electronic paper just like that, nice and easy, and painless. I finally, got my freedom back, living the life of an artist, no regular job, no place to go, no career path anymore. I just sit here by my desk and create and write and live on until the next day and on the next day following the same pattern. Woke up whenever, went to the gym, got my breakfast, got some music on, got some coffee brewing, and my laptop’s on, and on to the next thing, and on with my life and with my writing.
To be continued…