Goddamnit if my happiest, most serene moments of any given day don’t always come when the “rest” of the world is asleep. It’s in these moments that I can’t imagine why I would ever try to deny that fact, that I absolutely prefer to exist in solitary and apart from everyone else. It’s also in these moments that I wonder how to reconcile my antisocial misanthropic isolationism with aspirations towards a more compassionate Buddhist sense of spirituality.
In thirty seconds, the blight on the face of underground music known as Record Store Day shall be officially over! Sure, there’s bound to be traces of this horrible, bloody rape-orgy for weeks, even months, to come. And the memories may haunt some forever. But, it’s important to believe that the worst is behind us, at least for another 365 days…
Also, this means that your local record store should be mostly free of douchebags tomorrow! You know…other than the clerks. XD
– I have that Thou song stuck in my head again.
– It’s a Nirvana song.
– Sure, but it’s the version Thou recorded that’s stuck in my head.
– Our head.
– Right. OUR head.
– Always is. Nirvana is catchy shit, even when DOOMED the fuck out.
– Hell, especially when DOOMED the fuck out!
– Blackened DOOM, they call it. DOOM sludge. Muck metal. Motherfucking swamp grind!
– Yeah…you ever wonder what would have happened had we gone to Tulane?
– We’d be dead. Just like every other scenario that isn’t this one. You always think this is the darkest timeline, but really it’s the best one.
– What if we’re dead now? Maybe we didn’t beat the train.
– Now don’t start that again!
– Hahahaha! Jungle Book is awesome…
“Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.”
– Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I can easily get too caught up in the poorly written melodrama inside my own mind and forget that everyone has an oftentimes silent struggle with which they are dealing. Here’s a rare moment of mostly selfless empathy and encouragement to all of you who feel overwhelmed by or consumed with something vexing. You are a fucking rock star, and you’ve got this bitch! 😀
I think I may have reduced the entirety of my existential crises down to a single, yet powerful, philosophical dilemma: How to reconcile my innate nihilism with my cosmic Buddhism. Is it, indeed, possible to believe in nothing and everything?
We shall see… 🙂
(Perhaps this is a repurposing of sorts.)
Also, it turns out there is a one-man chaos punk band called Nihilist Buddha. Without having yet heard any music, I am already a die-hard fan, because that is fucking brilliant!
Throughout his story, when faced with something perceived as insurmountable, the Ryan’s defense mechanism has been to shut down, to push all others away, to isolate and to marinade in comfortable misanthropic loathing. Eventually this acidic process breaks down all the rotting weight and we are able to flush it away, leaving behind a sort of stripped, blank form. A sort of peacefulness from which we can rebuild.
But it never really addresses the disease at the core. And what we regenerate around and upon the core ends up inevitably infected and rotten.
Every time I find myself, I get complacent. And then, of course, parts of me get restless. They wander off again and get lost. This time I want to do a better job of putting me all together and moving forward.
“When you realize how perfect everything is you will tilt your head back and laugh at the sky.”