Dear Reader
I'm so glad last week is dead and gone. Finito. I was truly exhausted and drained. No gas left in the tank. For all those who expressed concern, thanks very much indeed, but you never need to worry about me. Ever. Planet Fudge might be deranged and chaotic, but it's pretty much unsinkable. It's a floater, not a sinker.
There was nothing wrong with me that my ipod, happy pills etc, and black as sin, dry as toast humour couldn't cure. I don't take the shit fest that seriously; neurosis, paranoia, substance abuse, psychological instability, whatever, it's all a huge joke and it keeps me entertained for hours. I never worry about any of it, so don't you either.
We're all going to die of something, and once we go, none of this will matter to us anymore. None of it. No need to get overly fixated on or fucked up about oneself. Let it go. Just be free.
Who's constantly happy/emotionally stable anyway? a fucking cow in a field chewing grass all day. Barely a sentient being...and just as fascinating. I prefer the mercurial and angst ridden to the dumb happy fuck that's never had an original thought in his head, who's greatest desire is to fill up on McShitFood while he's loses himself in tv land... and kids himself he's a happy, happy regular guy.
I think the nicest thing that was said about my blog came from someone on DM, they said "... it feels good to be reminded that I'm not alone, that dysfunction is everywhere..."
Right you are my dear. It is everywhere. But you know, it's worst amongst those who won't admit that they are... and we all are.
Until you hang upon such a cross, you won't know a thing about laughter or loss...and you don't believe me now, but you will...you will, you wil you will you will...you will, you will - Titus Andronicus
