and so…

Posted: October 1, 2012 in hidden admonishment

I will be relinquishing my car in a few hours.
I didn’t clean it.
I’m beyond caring what anybody thinks.
For all anybody knows by the contents, I do keep a large python in my car
read novels while driving
and sleep in the back under an umbrella.

What difference would it make if it were all true?

I’m still angry about my car.
Even if I could easily afford to pay the insurance deductible
I would still be angry about my car.

To distract myself, I’ve decided that I need visible abs.
I can’t afford to eat, and I certainly can’t afford to drink
so I’ll live on fucking oatmeal for as long as I can tolerate it
and I’ll exercise to receive my allotment of comforting endorphins.

I’m sure it won’t work out very well, although it is improving my atrocious posture.

If you can think of a better way to deal with yet another large financial burden, please, let me know.
The only concession I haven’t made is with this accursed internet access
and aside from becoming a drug mule, I do believe I’ve exhausted most of my options for quick extra sources of income.

I’d prefer not to spend all of my time thinking about the reallocation of money I don’t have
and despite necessity
still fail to desire attaining for its own sake.

No. My aspirations in life have proven exponentially dysfunctional, so what the hell?
Exercise is a free, mind-numbing, time-consuming distraction.

It fits half the criteria for survival anyway.

I don’t want to leave my car with strange people who are going to tear it apart to smooth and paste it back together.
I don’t want to rely on a strange rental car.

I don’t want to pay for this major inconvenience due to some self-centered fuck who was not only shitty enough to run into a parked car in a parking lot in the middle of the fucking day, but so shitty as to take zero responsibility.


How is that I’m still angry when I know better than to expect anyone to do the right thing? It’s just not to be expected. It’s not really cynicism generalized towards humanity, or even bitterness over this isolated insignificance. Expectation is just not something to be applied outside of oneself.

It’s insidious…like judgment and hope. Absolutely unavoidable, but untrustworthy, illegitimate and a disdainful harbinger of disappointment and scorn.

I am gaining little to no ground in my efforts to realize my aforementioned dysfunctional aspirations.
Perhaps, it is time for another reassessment of these means to an end. I’m currently afloat in a sea of negativity until I get my mended car back and pay off the corresponding bills, and so…
oatmeal and shuffle pushups (which will kill me) between work and ten cent Mishima novels it will have to be.


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