Dread
I often have this feeling of edginess. Not the kind of edginess that makes you snap at people but the kind of edginess that makes you think the world is about to come to an end…
Oh, I forgot—the world is about to come to an end. At least as we know it. Well, but I’ve always had the edginess even when things shouldn’t look quite so grim.
Didn't you know? A talking carp recently foretold the end of the world...
Dread is an odd feeling. A sort of thought like ‘I must do something!’ but not quite knowing what to do I make lots of tea. I pace around, I wander the aisles of my grocery store looking for answers.
I realize there’s no reason for anyone to care but my own deep pessimism confirms this one odd fact which is: It’s very possible to be an idealistic pessimist. It is very possible to wish, with all your heart for a fair and just world or merely a world where people are a bit more sensible and perhaps kind—and also assume that you and everyone else is utterly doomed.
They aren’t mutually exclusive—a belief in doom and a belief in a better world. I’m not quite sure how to explain this. One is about ideals—what should be and what one hopes will come and the other is about predictions—what one expects. I’ve often been called cynical, which seems very strange. Also ironic, sarcastic. A lot of words that seem to apply much more to someone who wears a lot of black and lives in New York City.
I’m not cynical if that means—I think nothing has any value. I’m into love, peace all that stuff. Beauty, truth. The poetry things.
Whenever I say ‘New York City’ I always think of the Pace Picante commercial where the two white hicks are appalled that their Pace comes from New York City. “New York City!” the say in their southern-ish twang which is probably supposed to be a Texas twang. Of course, they are worried about the authenticity of their picante sauce while they probably voted for the English only amendments, against bilingual education and have perhaps beat up a Mexican or two.
I guess that’s the kind of thinking that gets me called cynical.
I often have this feeling of edginess. Not the kind of edginess that makes you snap at people but the kind of edginess that makes you think the world is about to come to an end…
Oh, I forgot—the world is about to come to an end. At least as we know it. Well, but I’ve always had the edginess even when things shouldn’t look quite so grim.
Didn't you know? A talking carp recently foretold the end of the world...
Dread is an odd feeling. A sort of thought like ‘I must do something!’ but not quite knowing what to do I make lots of tea. I pace around, I wander the aisles of my grocery store looking for answers.
I realize there’s no reason for anyone to care but my own deep pessimism confirms this one odd fact which is: It’s very possible to be an idealistic pessimist. It is very possible to wish, with all your heart for a fair and just world or merely a world where people are a bit more sensible and perhaps kind—and also assume that you and everyone else is utterly doomed.
They aren’t mutually exclusive—a belief in doom and a belief in a better world. I’m not quite sure how to explain this. One is about ideals—what should be and what one hopes will come and the other is about predictions—what one expects. I’ve often been called cynical, which seems very strange. Also ironic, sarcastic. A lot of words that seem to apply much more to someone who wears a lot of black and lives in New York City.
I’m not cynical if that means—I think nothing has any value. I’m into love, peace all that stuff. Beauty, truth. The poetry things.
Whenever I say ‘New York City’ I always think of the Pace Picante commercial where the two white hicks are appalled that their Pace comes from New York City. “New York City!” the say in their southern-ish twang which is probably supposed to be a Texas twang. Of course, they are worried about the authenticity of their picante sauce while they probably voted for the English only amendments, against bilingual education and have perhaps beat up a Mexican or two.
I guess that’s the kind of thinking that gets me called cynical.
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