I would like to state for the record that I am terribly hung over. I feel lethargic and gloomy, as if something heavy is hanging over my head. I am angry at myself for drinking more than I wanted. Why did I do that to myself……..again? I drink too much. I don’t get drunk but I like being intoxicated. I need a drink every day and I am not so sure that is a good thing. I am trying to anesthetize some kind of pain. Some kind of dull, chronic ache. I would like to stop drinking and just smoke weed. But I have not done that yet. I just wanted to state that what you are about to read are the words of a hung over, hung under and hung side ways man. When hung in these various ways, I tend to be bleak.
I realize the underlying absurd nature of all these feelings I am about to express. Ultimately none of this means anything. You and I can be burned to ashes and bone at any moment- so what ultimate meaning is there really once we realize this? I don’t not believe in some kind of afterlife that will ultimately redeem the nothingness of this life. Life is how we think it is. Nothing more than that. Once we stop thinking of it and experiencing it, it is over. Meaning has ended.
Knowing this doesn’t really help me. You would think that by knowing this I would care very little about what I am doing with my life. You would think that I could just be happy with the simpler things (reading a book, morning coffee, sounds of birds, time with my wife, masturbation, going for walks, listening to records, drawing, writing, eating, working, sleeping) and not get caught up in all the other bullshit. Ultimately, this is what I want for myself but I have thus far failed at even this.
Even though I know that ultimately life is sound and fury, signifying absolutely nothing, I still can’t seem to understand why I am unable to achieve the things that other naturally do. I read about and meet people who are doing all kinds of interesting things in the world. They seem to have succeeded at materializing some aspect of their dreams. Whether it is working as a novelist, owning a restaurant, being a painter or running an independent publishing company they seem to be living the life that they want to live. Every time I come across these people I am always left thinking the same things: What is wrong with me? Why am I Incapable of doing it? Why am I such a failure in my own life?
These are not pleasant thoughts and they usually send me into some kind of downward spiral that only a bottle of wine, a naked woman, buying something nice or some inspiring book will bring me out of. But even these things only bring me half way out. Last week my wife’s parents gave us a BMW that they no longer wanted. Just gave it to us. My wife decided that the car would be for me and she would continue to drive the black Volkswagen Golf. For the past week I have been driving around the BMW and all of a sudden I notice more women (and men) looking at me. What? I think. It is not what you think. I am an imposter. This car was given to me. I could never afford it on my own. I am not worthy. It is only a matter of time before it is taken away from me. I certainly don’t have the ability to hang on to a car like this.
The truth is that I am a loser. I have lost in the game of creating the kind of life that you want to be living. I have failed at materializing my own values and expectations for myself. I seem unable to do it, like there is some kind of invisible block that I can’t get out of the way. I’ve always thought that that invisible block was laziness. To some extent it is laziness. I don’t have much motivation to do anything. When you think that all of this ultimately means nothing, when you are hyper aware that it can all go up in flames at any moment, it provides a person with very little motivation to do something. Life is how we think it is and thinking the way I do enables a kind of capitalistic and careerist apathy. Some people think that all this sound and fury actually means something and as a result they do things that often earn a good amount of money, social status, accomplishment and life satisfaction. I only do what I have to do these days. The rest is like being suspended in a kind of limbo.
I recently bought a book called Fuck All You Motherfuckers by Brian M. Clark. It is a book for losers. A book written by someone who also sees the inherent ridiculousness of it all. But seeing this ridiculousness does not help a person create the life they want to live. Being an existentialist is a word that really means having to work at a job that you do not like and not having very much money or personal success. When you live in a materialistic country like the United States (a country were the vast majority of people are unintelligent and as a result actually believe that what they are doing ultimately matters) if you don’t play along- you lose. I’ve lost because I just don’t care. Like I said, I do what I must and nothing more. Nothing- not even pay debts sometimes. Maybe this is a sign of defeat. Maybe it is the result of knowing that it can all end at any second. I don’t know. But this does not help me to be less frustrated with myself for not being able to create a life that feels more my own and less like a loser.