Sunday, February 02, 2003

Does it count if you get in a free internet magazine if you write for free?

Oh, what the hell do I know?

I wasted ten hours today...This isn't happening. This isn't happening. Someone--help me please. Please--I need help. Oh, God. Time. Time goes by. I do nothing....nothing. I slide and collide into a timeless hole of time-wasting bullshit where although I do spread some peanut butter on crackers. I eat them. That's something. I subsist. I continue. I persist. I life goes by. Death looms. But only after failure, shame, disgrace. Everyone who loves me...disappointed, shocked, horrified. I live in loserville, no one respects me, I become more and more pathetic. I am old, I am on my deathbed. I wonder what I did with my life. It seemed like I had plans. I didn't fulfill those plans. Why? I wasted that time, I saw it slipping by, I did nothing. I took drugs at 18 and counted all the hours of all the Saturdays I'd had up 'til then. It was hundreds. It's been thousands now. I could have been somebody. I could have been important. I could have at least avoided getting fired. I could have body-built, wrote 5 novels and painted 300 paintings. I could have learned Italian and French. But I didn't. Oh, why? Why? Why? This isn't happening. How can ten hours go by? Go by without my noticing? Without my being sufficiently afraid? Afraid of the passage of time? Oh why was the internet invented? Why were short stories written? Why? Why? Why am I alive? How could have have wasted 12,480 hours since I was 18? I'm not including Sundays or the amount of sleep I need. 12,480 hours! That's 520 days! That's almost two years...A year doesn't seem like a long time but this was like 2 tax free years. Oh God...God!!!! Aaaaaahhhhhhhh.....Years and years have gone by. What happened in 1999? I barely even remember. I've accomplished virtually nothing in the last 4 years. Eeeeeeeeeeeeee......Nooooooooooo.....Whhhhhyyyyyyyyyyy....Heeeelllllpppp....Make it stop.

You'd think after all that I'd feel better. I wanted to be funny and say 'whew! I feel better now.' But I don't. Nope. Not at all. Still, I'll keep at this self-flagellation and see where it leads.

'Cause I can't stand it. Time is passing me by. Life is passing me by. I didn't do the things I was supposed to. Why didn't I do them? Because I thought I would do them later. "I'll do them after this show is over..." "I do them after I finish this 527 page book of collected short stories." "I'll do them when I finish grocery shopping." The irony: I often wish that a bus would come hit me (from behind, of course) or a large blood vessel would explode in my brain, killing me instantly. Now, obviously, if the worry is that I'm running out of time this doesn't seem like a very productive wish.

However, I want to evade responsibility more than I want more time. Time only heaps greater loads of responsibility onto my shoulders. The more time I have, the more I'll just have to blame myself.

I thought I would do them like...3 years ago...But I didn't do them. Nah. I didn't. I wonder why? I guess I'll never know.


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