chuck/ned

the only dream worth having

Life goes easy on me, as always. Easier than it should. One door closes and another opens, then another, then another. I coast along, in my nowhere discontent. I read the news, I take my pills, I go through the motions. I make the same old empty gestures at nihilism; live while you are alive and die when you are dead.

J once told me that the only real obstacle preventing him from killing himself was how much it would hurt his mother. I can't help but think that's maybe a little selfish, this web of emotional blackmail, this endless deferral of meaning onto some other person or place or thing.

I have resolved to finish reading Infinite Jest.
  • Current Music
    el musgo - gabriel bruce
chuck/ned

(no subject)

In the unmoving air of the room and the smell of medicine and skin salves I could feel the weight of the time she had spent in this bed waiting and hoping to die. I'm not sure, with a grandmother like mine, if you can ever become a true American in the sense of believing that life is about the pursuit of happiness. The lesson of Desdemona's suffering and rejection of life insisted that old age would not continue the manifold pleasures of youth but would instead be a long trial that slowly robbed life of even its smallest, simplest joys. Everyone struggles against despair, but it always wins in the end. It has to. It's the thing that lets us say goodbye.
chuck/ned

(no subject)



1. As dictated and predicted by tertiary Si. I have of late taken intensely to MBTI, and how could I not. It is a complex, sprawling puzzle that touches the real world in enough ways to feel useful, while simultaneously managing to be pretty objectively futile. And I have never been able to resist the pseudodeterministic.

2. And here I am now, nothing but lost momentum. I knew the answer before I even began, of course. Or was it only the answer because I'd already decided it was?

3. I think I maybe somehow managed to be optimistic about that 10 billion year figure.
chuck/ned

(no subject)

It's something that's taken me far too long to pin down; too much rage, and too much time. To say "nothing matters", and actually mean it. Some days that is still beyond my reach; some days history rewrites itself when you aren't looking.

Being right doesn't matter, but neither does being wrong. Being wrong doesn't matter, but neither does being right. Some days that is infuriating, some days a relief. Sometimes both, and neither.

I think about the public hospital psychiatrist, who would probably dismiss all of this as high schooler Nietzsche posturing. But they don't matter either, not their own formidable nihilism, not the gaping hole in the ceiling of their living room, not their obvious apathy for the boarding house they run for axis 2 personality disorders who haven't yet managed to find the right drug cocktail or suicide method.

Nothing matters because nothing matters; nothing matters because nothing matters.
  • Current Music
    black sun
chuck/ned

(no subject)

I start conversations that I don't know how to continue. I'm constantly torn, between the need for connection and the need to withdraw. We care, we do; everybody cares. But we only have so much time, so much energy, so many spoons. Sometimes caring has to be merely abstract, or only from afar.
  • Current Music
    fireproof - the national
chuck/ned

(no subject)

Every time a door slams, two windows open. I don't really know what to do with that; it's one of those extreme salvage consolation things that always frustrated me; at least at least at the very least. Dealing with new people is, as it has always been, a daunting exercise in tooth-pulling. No matter how much better I get, it never gets any easier.