I Burped And Farted At The Same Time
Most phrases and sayings I don't understand at all. "Go about it half-cocked"? What the fuck? I use the whole cock every time. But I do understand "sad sack", because that is exactly what I feel like when I'm sad: a burlap sack full of some sort of sludgy material, sitting in the corner of a garage, getting soggy and attracting flys. I go about feeling depressed very stereotypically: I listen to Nine Inch Nails; I stay in bed as long as possible; I accomplish very little; I take far too long to decide things like whether I want to eat or not and whether I could get away with not taking a shower again. Basically, I act like I would normally, only I feel like a sack while doing it. It really annoys me to be depressed. I say to myself "You dumbfuck. What could you possibly be sad about?" To which I respond "You're right..." and feel even worse. See, when I'm sad, I wallow. I bask in it, like it was a big pool of macaroni and cheese. I don't try to repress my emotions; that's silly. I have them for a reason. Plus it gives me a fabulous excuse to be antisocial and angry at everybody, which again I would do anyway. I listen to a lot of music while sad. Happy music really pisses me off while sad. Happy people really piss me off. Basically, everything pisses me off. Again, typical behavior, but I'm less mocking and more maudlin. I never slit my wrists or blame other people; that's bullshit. I just be sad, pretty much. I do write poetry, however. Check it:
Why?
Why?
Why?
I am alone with my tears
And my ignorance of poetic structure
ANGST
Mad is just sad with an M
And without an S
Why won't Dad let me stay out til 1?
No one understands me
Except Dashboard Confessional
Sigh
Brilliant, eh? Yeah. Thought so. I think the source of all this emotional pain is my current state of physical pain. My back and neck hurt, my left leg is all bruised up, both my shoulders are basically out of commision, and numerous other problems I'd prefer not to share here. All in all, I am an old fucking man. I hate it, because I'm too young to be old. I can hardly move most of the time and have been sleeping terribly. All this physical pain usually brings the emotional pain I feel to the forefront. I've pretty much always harbored depressive tendencies, but I can keep them at bay pretty easily. But when my body hurts, it reminds me of all the other things in life that suck. Everything sucks. Grr.
So before I start sounding like one of those blogs that is petty and annoying and that I make fun of all the time, I'm going to go back to sleep. I promise to shut up after this.
Why?
Why?
Why?
I am alone with my tears
And my ignorance of poetic structure
ANGST
Mad is just sad with an M
And without an S
Why won't Dad let me stay out til 1?
No one understands me
Except Dashboard Confessional
Sigh
Brilliant, eh? Yeah. Thought so. I think the source of all this emotional pain is my current state of physical pain. My back and neck hurt, my left leg is all bruised up, both my shoulders are basically out of commision, and numerous other problems I'd prefer not to share here. All in all, I am an old fucking man. I hate it, because I'm too young to be old. I can hardly move most of the time and have been sleeping terribly. All this physical pain usually brings the emotional pain I feel to the forefront. I've pretty much always harbored depressive tendencies, but I can keep them at bay pretty easily. But when my body hurts, it reminds me of all the other things in life that suck. Everything sucks. Grr.
So before I start sounding like one of those blogs that is petty and annoying and that I make fun of all the time, I'm going to go back to sleep. I promise to shut up after this.
posted by MC Harv at 2:48 PM
16 Comments:
And, yes, Starbucks, I know what you're going to say before you say it: I need to get laid.
I believe, "half-cocked," is a reference to old firearms and we're all just perverts. That actually makes sense (the first part, well the second too, but stay with me); if you're gun is half-cocked, you're not quite prepared to do what you wanted.
The more intelligent you are the more depressed you are. That's my favorite rationalization anyway.
In my opinion: A Whisper in the Noise's first album is better depression material than Downward Spiral. Great lines like:
"I want to be happy
at the end of this life,"
"These are dark days painted in grays
we only give a fuck if we don't get paid,"
"If I speak it turns to shit,"
"Crashing into the ground feels better than to drown,"
"well, here I am once again,
beside me, the one undying friend,
but I lose sight of this,"
"dim the lights, got a brand new distraction,"
(taken from www.awhisperinthenoise.com)
Will have you wallowing in your own self-pity for hours. Well, a little less than an hour.
This is not to say that Nine Inch Nails makes you won't trigger images of dark holes and feelings of emptiness, I'm just saying Whisper is the champion in my book.
I believe Mouse on Mars is the anti-Nine Inch Nails for mood music too, so you could probably just ignore that.
We all need to get laid, some people just need it more than others at given points in time.
Oh, don't worry, Whisper are definitely on my list of depression music. That and certain Radiohead and the song from Donnie Darko... Oh yeah.
That's not what I was going to say!!
Ok, so it was. You do need to get laid.
But then I saw the poetry and I realized that this might be more serious than I originally thought. So here's my sympathy, albiet limited because we're online: I'm sorry for you, and is there anything I can do to make you feel better? I'd give you a killer backrub if I was in Chicago, and then I'd read you to sleep, from something like Stuart Little, which always cheers me up and puts me to sleep at the same time.
"For you I pine, for you I balsam," Jack.
Don't forget I'm a mommy. I know how to make people feel better magically. Ok, to clarify, I'm a goddamn sexy mom, and the first thing you would want to do is throw me up against the nearest wall and ravish me if you ever saw me; but still, a mom.
nighty-night-night-night, Jackie.
That image alone has made me feel loads better. Thanks!
Jack, if it makes you feel any better, just envision the glorious Akira Headrush 2 with all it's looping mastery. Envision a life of burritos and cream soda by delivery and draw strength.
sex scenes at starbucks makes me feel better about being the way I am. Not because I feel superior or anything, it's just comforting to know I'm not the only pervy delinquint out there.
Omg jack that poem was brilliant. See? Our best work comes during times of overwhelming emotion. Your depression paid off. You have a gem.
I'm sorry to hear you're sad. Listen to Radiohead - Street Spirit and cry it all away. Then watch Elf and fill the void with happiness. It'll be a good old fashioned bachanalia.
Which image, Jack?
The whole damn thing... The backrub, the story, me sleeping, you being motherly, as well as me ravishing you against a wall... It's all so wondeful...
yeah, that was me. There's a little depression antidote for ya, Jack. Pillowtalk was the name of my sex blog. I had to go and delete the whole goddamned thing since I was logged in wrong. Fucking shit goddamn fucking asswiping fuck! I'm not even drinking tonight. I can't keep a secret worth a shit.
Dammit!
And you had it so well planned out too.
-Thomas
yeah, all my little pervs are going to wonder where the hell i went. but these things must be anon. maybe i'll do another someday.
hope your day is more cheerful today, jack!!
i'm still not capitalizing. curious.
I hope you're better today, babe.
Hit counter note: I'm a terrible blog-hound, sniffing for comments constantly. I send everyone's hit counters through the roof, so don't feel popular or anything.
I set it up to be unique hits only, so technically, I can feel popular if I damn well please.
I'm glad to see your sass is back, Jack.
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