Ready for the floorSome days are just empty of meaning, and you rack them up and before you know it, you are an old man. Some days you just cannot be bothered, and cannot remember how you once wished to rise above it all.
Some songs are the soundtrack for aspiration. I am left thinking, I want my life to fit this song. I want to live something this could soundtrack. Other times, they are the soundtrack to my life, and I am not uplifted, because they are not songs of joy, but songs of desolation. And I'm left thinking, I am still sure I fucked up for all the right reasons, even if I'm not sure why I fucked up.
Sometimes, I feel deeply saddened by the realisation that there will be a band I love whose last album I do not hear.
I want to die.
Or to live. But not to be stuck in between.
It is not something you just turn on. When you are younger, I think you can choose. But once you've chosen, the number of choices you can make starts to diminish.
I think that is why we have midlife crises. We realise that we ran out of choices and we are afraid that that means we just die.
I have never been patient. I have always wanted the end to come. When I went to gigs as a youngster, I wanted the encore to be playing, so I could bask in the satisfaction of having been there.
I never enjoyed the chase, only the eating of the rabbit, iykwimaityd.
I have only played about 1.5K STTs, not anywhere enough for someone of my modest thinking ability and poor maths to have learned how to be a pro, yet I want to be there already. And I get so discouraged because I see the goal, not the steps I have taken towards it. It helps that I have been trying to help Father Luke learn poker, because I realise how much I have learned because it is what I know and he doesn't. Now, this will sound weird, but when I teach, I'm not at all goal oriented. I do not care about results. I just like sharing. If it is on my terms, what I want to give, I like to share.
I think I am like the American view of themselves. They are said to be awesome in their charity, yet they hate taxes. (Curiously, I don't think much about taxation, and consequently don't mind it so much. I think it is because I see it as simply one facet of an imposition I resent, and not as an evil all of its own.)
I do not want anything in return. Except, I suppose, to be thought well of. Is it such a sin, to be desirous of being loved, or at least, to need to feel wanted?
I suppose it must be, because it has brought me so much trouble.
That has made me start thinking. You know why I'm an egalitarian? Because I don't think anyone's my better, but I know I'm nothing special. I feel hurt when people think they are worth more than I am. I like people to think they can gain something from me, but not that they can exploit me.
I felt sad when S dumped me. I hadn't wanted to think she was exploiting me the way she does others. But she was. And I also felt sad, although by no means as much, when K decided I was trash she should clear from my life, because I felt she was exploiting me, and to have someone decide you are not even worth exploiting is a bad feeling.
I felt like I should be permitted to say, you do not know what you might have gained, because you were not treating me as an equal and gaining what an equal would gain from me. I feel the same way about Mrs Zen, as it happens. She and K have the same approach to the world: it is almost abusive, that they feel entitled to use the world and not have it use them.
I like to think I am Father Luke's equal. I am not teaching him poker as a means of feeling better than him. I do it because I like him and want him to be able to have what I have to the degree it makes him happy.
Although I have a convoluted relationship with P, I like to think she too is my equal. We play games of inequality from time to time, but\they are based in trust, and trust is based in a sense of equality.
I wish I could explain that to Mrs Zen. I am not trustworthy for her because she treats me as something to exploit. I suppose you could find equality if you were each exploitable for the other, but what does she offer me?
That reminds me. I have an email outstanding from boots. He will think I have been avoiding answering it, that I think he's crazy, dumb or something of both. But to think someone is wrong, you have to think you are right.
And am I? If I am, it's not doing me any good. So I'm ready to be wrong.