I have like the worst karma in the universe, and I don’t mean it as a hyperbole but just, the weird pattern my life usually follows, draws it out for me. I get my comeuppance right at a curve and like an economic graph (economic major yo), my life just goes up and down in a haphazard fashion, that sometimes that ephemeral stability just kind of irks me. But it’s not just me. Someone told me today that they enjoyed being in an induced coma, and I concurred. There’s nothing better than forcing your body to slow down, and I would like to think that the gift of nights lies in the beauty of sleep. Sleeping is as beautiful as living, if not more so.
I’m not a bad person. I’m indifferent. I don’t do things to people, I do things to myself because I’m my own universe. And I think when you follow that line of thought, it’s hard to be evil and vituperative. Like I’m just trying to make sense of all this shit, to even give a shit, and not giving a shit requires a certain amount of distance from all the drama. Not that I don’t have time for drama, but I guess I always have to be the protagonist in my tragedies. And that’s why I’m not a bad person, doing bad things to people would require forethought, afterthought and machinations and I just haven’t got the time, nor the motivation.
Since that’s been laid out, I do feel guilty for things I shouldn’t be feeling guilty for. Because whether I like it or not, people get sucked into our lives, without us even wanting them to. And I guess that makes me human. That’s my saving grace, my road to Pollyanna-ism. Anyway, the story does get better though, as it often does after every blood-curdling misadventure. So 00tz fucks up again, everyone hates her, sidelong glances and everything. But she gets picked up, by a jolt! That’s my personal catch-22; every misfortune is followed by a random streak of luck.
As a result of that coup de grace, 00tz will finally be embracing her Argonaut roots (00tz has always been very adventurous) and will relocate to a strange land very soon. It is important for a man to tackle different levels of hardship and learn to reckon with his spirit in the direst of circumstances. And what better way to learn that, than to abscond and find the perfect hideaway ? After all, if not for the random conundrums, when would one find catharsis? Let me savor my catharsis.
I love Bukowski