I don't understand how people are comfortable being in that state of boring complacency that I try to avoid with every fiber, tissue, organ, and bone in my body. They seem perfectly happy to just lie down and waste thought while their minds become progressively more flacid and useless every minute. I don't understand their happiness, and I'm sure they don't get why the fuck I get such a hoot out of writing on fruit with sharpie, or spending hours carving paper or tinkering with scraps, or even just fucking showering with your clothes on. I brought the latest of that list to the attention of my peers, and they just stared vacantly like someone had wadded a fat dick right into their cerebellum, until one girl finally said, "...I showered with my socks on once." You ever get the feeling you're talking to a completely different species? It makes me sad that people think so linearly; they seem to think that an object only has one specific, designated function, and they can't imagine any sort of deviation from that function. They aren't comfortable with the fact that an object exists simply to be explored in whatever way you see fit.
I take great happiness in existing as a being with endless facets in a world of boundless excitement. I take great happiness sitting here in a business suit above the waist, and nothin but mah skivvies below (business casual I call it). It makes me happy typing here, just putting my thoughts out for some unwitting soul to find. Hoollee shit... if I ever become a CEO by some perverse happenstance of the universe, I'm gonna wear this and sit at my desk, and when employees come to see me, I'll just smile, stand up, and calmly walk over to them, "Close your gape and have a seat... you're fired... asshole." Now that I have that figured out, I just have to wait for life to shower me with opportunity and happiness.
No comments:
Post a Comment