Wisdom of J

“What slaves we are to time.  We live in seconds, rushing, rushing, rushing.  My tram is 3 minutes late! Three whole minutes for god-sake.  It must have been different before the advent of the wristwatch, yeah?  Before clocks were everywhere.”

“I think of the beginnings and ends of relationships, and it’s too messy for a teutonic precisionist like me.  Too many loose ends, exposed nerves.”

“I’m like ice-cream, delicious and sweet, but too much will make you puke.”

“Still waters run deep. And murky.”

“I thought we might have a brawl.  I was ready, I’ve read my Kerouac, I’ve read my Hemingway, I was ready to plumb the depths of my masculinity and take on the nature of the Brute.  I was ready to smash and pulverize, I wanted to rumble baby!”

“I feel like I could sigh my insides out.”

“I hope he’s impotent and gets cancer in his eyes.”

“I hate laughing at crap jokes.  I have to laugh at so many crap jokes in the course of my day, just to stroke the egos of others.”

“It’s sad to see Cav go, he’s a unique sort of chap, jocose but armed with a steel-plated intellect.  I must admit that I followed him around like a loose-skinned puppy for a few months, hoping to blossom by osmosis, but eventually my stinging over-sensitivity pushed me back to a more dignified distance.”

“If everything is pointless, why not do anything?”

“No use doing anything, Mr Reaper comes for us all, and he doesn’t care if you’re single, married, successful, a failure, or anything.  The great leveller.”

“Don’t you ever feel like stuff is pointless ‘coz of the impermanence of it all?”

“Maybe I can survive on bitterness, save it up, screw it into a little ball and push it way down deep inside til it’s a hard shining and perfect diamond axis upon which my soul and entire being spins, like the Hindus’ believe that the earth rotates on a diamond.”

“Geez, sentimental I know, but take away sentiment from the letter writer and what are you left with? – just the facts.”

“We’re all doomed. The best thing we can do is speed up the process, wring as much entertainment from our own demise as we can.”

“Pointlessness is the glue that holds the cosmos together you know.  I wish I could pull it over my head like a blanket and go to sleep.”

“It’s expectations that fuck you up you know.  There’s no point in expecting anything from pointlessness.”

“Why can’t I just be wearily designed and expect the nothing that I’m always gonna get.”

“I feel like the neglected girl-next-door, too plain, too sedentary.  Why is it that the sparkling ones, the one’s whose glittering conversation and friendship I yearn for, always slip away, receding into the distance.”

“Bewildered by choice or stifled by security.”

“I feel like I’m turning myself inside out here. It’s like choosing a method for your own death, it’s gonna be unpleasant no matter what you do.”

“Shit. It’s no use, I’m havin’ a bad day.”

“Is it just part of human nature to be unhappy with what you have, no matter how good it is?”

“I’m walking along looking at the people in their fifties and I think “God, I’ve got to keep getting up every morning and keep breathing for the next forty or fifty years”

“I’m living in dreamland, and now I wake to find the hound of reality with its jaws planted firmly in the wobbily expanse of my ass.  I don’t wanna live in the real world. Shit.”

“I’m at the point where every little daily injustice outrages me to the point where I feel like my moral soul is being massaged by a cheese grater.”

“My juvenile dreams wont’t spring into reality and unfurl like a roll of Presidential red carpet for me to stroll down.”

“In homage to the great Victor Frankenstein I’m going to make me a chocolate woman, with Maltesers for eyes.”

“Perhaps I should embark on a new age of learning, sloughing my old skin of laziness and revealing delightful new scales of vigorous intellectual pursuit.  Or maybe I should just stick to pomposity, I do it so well.”

“It’s no coincidence that sexy chicks always work in music shops, it’s a sadistic plan to make you feel embarrassed about buying daggy music.”

“Do they have team knitting events?  I wonder if they’re allowed to share needles?”

“This freezing weather really makes me respect English streakers.”

“I don’t want anything to do with someone unless I am completely sure I won’t be rejected.”

“Remember when you were a kid and you were grumpy at one of life’s injustices, and the adults would say “I think someone’s a bit tiiiiired” and it would pissed you off even more because you weren’t tired, you were pissed off.  And so here I am, fifteen years later, trying to explain away a rotten mood by telling myself I’m tired.”

“Shut your filthy holes. Don’t you realise some people are busy being depressed.”

I spoke to about four girls during the course of the evening, and I even had on a mohair jumper, but all to no avail.

“Funny how you don’t realise how dunk you are until you get in the front door of your own house.”

“The sunlight woke me up and introduced me to my headache who would be accompanying me for the next four to five hours.”

“Embarrassment springs eternal as does vanity and paranoia.”

“I’ve read that beautiful chicks think that being beautiful is enough in itself, and they don’t put in any effort in the sack.”

“I’d like to explain how a cheery boy with a love of reading developed a penchant for books exploring the “darker regions of the soul” he’d had not personally acquainted himself with.  Smitten thus with the romance of tragedy, aberration and mental illness that produced such literary genius, he sought to emulate it, and successfully obtained the means.”

I fear the vulnerability of confession.

I just want people to know I’m not what I look like.

Drinking is neither physically, mentally or economically healthy. But I’ll keep doing it.

This artifice of depression has wormed its way into my head and, like a Swiss backpacker, has overstayed its welcome.

“I’m tired and l’m lonely and I want someone to love me.”

“Fare dodging makes me feel special.”

“I’m an Uncle to a girl with no name.”

Spent half an hour prancing in front of the mirror pretending to be someone else, thinking “Hey, you’re not so unattractive, why are you alone?”

Well, today has started better than yesterday. Some lady was giving me the eye on the tram this morning.  She was hideous, but it’s nice to be noticed.

My workmates have about as much sensitivity as a Russian condom.

The band played like the pool players – for too long and with too little talent.

Exile is a little more dignified when it is self-imposed.

Reincarnation is my greatest fear. That, and the dentist.

I crave the peace that must come with complete inner deadness.

When I’ve exercised all this wobble off, I might even venture out to pluck a fruit from the girl tree.

I guess that’s the curse of being positive, you become boring.

As soon as I start wearing yellow, call in the Existentialist SWAT Team to kidnap me and re-affirm in my mind how pointless life really is.

The defeat of hope is the path to freedom.

With hindsight it was probably a mistake, but what isn’t a mistake with hindsight?

I turned a corner while in bed this morning.

Imagine knowing your Mum has taken human life with zeal.  It would certainly put a different skew on disciplinary matters.

If I feel the need to flee, I’ll start acting appallingly.  Maybe I should make myself a menu of atrocities to commit, in case I go blank at a critical moment.

As a matter of fact, women hardly ever get rebuffed, because most men are convinced that if they don’t take every single opportunity for sex, they may never have another again.

Cleaning can only be done incrementally.  It would be like an offence to all that long-standing mess to just heave it all out in one go.  All these mementos need individual respect before they are tossed into the bin.

No one understands how I really can’t go out anymore, how picking up is anathema to me now.  I want a cat.

It’s sad and it’s childish but all I wanted was to be loved tonight. I wanted someone to kiss my neck, put their arms around my waist.

There’s such an art to letting friendships fizzle out.

We’re getting the internet at work.  I can’t wait. There’s a whole bunch of stuff I wann check out. Some of it’s even legal.

From what I can gather most people’s lives are linear, they start at one end and finish at the other.  I’m beginning to wonder if mine is not spiral in nature.  Sometimes I feel like I’m going backwards through already chartered areas.

I really do resent my Father’s chicanery and manipulation by trying to ingratiate himself into my life. Hell, he’s forcing me to be a bastard just like him.

“I’ve always thought the human race would be much better off if we only bred in season.  You know, if we came on heat, kinda like cats and dogs.  It would give it a carnival kind of atmosphere.”

“Damn this protestant work-ethic bullshit.  Work is not where happiness and fulfillment are to be found, that is one of the great Industrial Revolution myths.”

“I’m an adult, and adults get their own way, that was one of the first lessons of my childhood.”

“I don’t know who I am. I hope that by adopting the idiosyncrasies of certain subcultures, that I will find a place that feels like home.”

“The closest I’m gonna come to getting lucky will be getting run over by a necrophiliac.”

“Maybe I should get a dog.  Dogs have no self esteem, that’s why they’ll do anything for you.”

“I actually believe that a change is better than a holiday, a change will keep me interested for months, a holiday is simply a brief respite from routine.”

I know I was really bad because my hangover did not follow the established pattern: sickness, regret, housework. There was just regret. It was like a cuckoo pushing all the other sensations out of the nest.

“I can’t seem to limit myself to social drinking. I always slide into vodka swilling like some Botany-bound sea shanty singing rough-nut.”

I feel silly, but this is exciting to me. Independence.

Most journalists end up being alcoholics anyway, it’s all a part of the machismo culture of cynicism and superiority.

“Parents expect their children to lie.  It tells them that their children are aware of the expected codes of conduct, even if they don’t follow them.”

“The human body just requires too much maintenance.”

“I was so hungover this morning, it was a-four-potato-cake-day.”

“I love junk mail, I love looking at all the electrical appliances and all that guff. And it’s faithful, I know that every night, when I get home, there’ll be that “unsolicited advertising material” poking jauntily out of my letter box, hailing me welcome on my return from a hard day’s labour down the mine, inviting me to sit for a spell in the consumerist beer garden.”

“Remember when you were a kid and Christmases seemed absolute eons apart? I wish I still had that sense of time, how do you suppose we lose it? I guess it’s comparative. When I was eight, one year was an eighth of my entire life. Now it’s less than one twentieth, or 5%.”

My social life is about as exciting as a Methodist cake-stall.

“Apparently you can’t call anyone fat, or stupid, or ugly – even if they are.”

“Dear Diary, what has introspection ever done for me, huh? Answer me that.”

“Maybe I’m just a second-rate Nihilist, or more likely, an Existentialist dilettante.”

“Life is essentially pointless, there is no God, no grand plan or central motif linking everything together.  As such, one cannot fail in anything, because success loses meaning, nothing has meaning.  Ergo, there should be no barriers to happiness.  This is, of course, a steaming pile of shit.”

 “Maybe I’m just getting old, but the physical rebellion of outward appearance just doesn’t have that kick anymore.”

“The forecast is for a bit more shittiness followed by a cold front of irritability.”

“Pornography makes me lazy.”

“I want to be free and rich and beautiful and live my life like a movie, where everything has meaning and all things move towards an end.”

“I’m longing for things past I cannot accurately phrase.”

“Most Politicians are so unattractive they’d be lucky to sleep with their own wive’s let alone anyone else’s.”

I think I am beginning to understand the rationale and motives behind those who choose to enter monasteries and convents. It’s a total renunciation of individual will, you no longer have to make choices. You are judged only by those around you, and on the sole basis of your dedication to one cause. I think that in some ways, it must be an easy life, everything is mapped out for you, there must be so little uncertainty.

“I’m going to become an urban hermit, straight to work and straight home.”

“It’s hard enough living with yourself, let alone anyone else.  I don’t think I’ll be having another live-in relationship for a long time, if ever, though I’m sure a fear of dying alone will force me into one somewhere along the line.”

“They say that time heals all wounds. Except amputation, I suspect.”

“If you try too hard to listen to your heart of hearts, you can’t hear it at all.”

“Whoopee, I love that consumerist rush you get from buying things you never knew you needed, until the TV Genie told you so.”

“Remember kids, floss or die.’

“Do I follow my heart or my mind?  Personally, I think I have a better mind than heart (if one can compare the two), but people seem to have an aversion to others who are perceived as being “heartless”.”

“Indecision is my bedfellow, my shadow.  It sleeps beside me, dogs my every footstep.” 

“So many questions, and without some dogmatic organised religion to give me all the answers, no immediate resolution.  Perhaps I should physically draw up my own moral code to adhere to in the absence of a sensible, recognizable and accessible social set of ethics.”

“Is it nobler to hide one’s faults when they are going to have an adverse effect on those around them, or is it nobler to be honest no matter the emotional cost?”

“I wish I could disappear and not have to deal with people. I get sick of putting on a different face for everyone, behaving in the way that I know will make them like me the most.  I can’t be bothered anymore, and I think just dropping out altogether will be easier than trying to deal with people honestly and just present eh one face to all of them. And anyway, who’s to say which is my real face anyway. Maybe I don’t have one, so to speak. Perhaps I’m simply made up entirely of what people want me to be.”

“Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, but it’s such a release.”

The conscience is a funny thing really isn’t it? An in-built set of self-regulating rules to set limits on ourselves. And these limits are so often the cause of unhappiness and discontent, yet we set the boundaries ourselves. Why?

J’s thoughts on living off the grid.

What is stronger, my need for approval or my fear of ridicule?

I have a need to be liked by everyone, and it can be a real drag.

Unemployment is quite respectable in a recession you know.

You could stick my brains in one of Mum’s casseroles and you’d never know the difference.

Lizards make the best pets, completely non-demanding, but they’re there when you need ’em.

Shut your ugly turtle face!

I think that there’s nothing in a relationship that I can’t do or fulfill for myself. They definitely seem more trouble than they’re worth.

“Had a miserable, angry day choking on my own bile. Heaven forbid I should choke on someone else’s.”

“I’ve had some frightening ideas about myself the past few days, about how much my father has influenced me.  Perhaps my deep mistrust of people springs from his duplicitous love-life.  If I can’t trust him, from whose loins (shudder, shudder) I spring, then who can I trust?  I think that perhaps my secrecy is also rooted in this.  I think I got his secrecy through osmosis, for if I was directly aware of it, it wouldn’t be secret.  So why are these things making me so unhappy?  Because they’re making me like my father and I can’t fucking stand him.  Christ, I think that might be it.  But why do I hate him so much?  Not just what he did, but who he is (which is defined by what he does I suppose.)  Maybe I hate him because Mum does and I’ve always been Mum’s son, but I don’t think that’s it.  Maybe it’s a matter of asking the right questions of myself.”

“People with names like “Coral” and “Amber” are the sort of people who swallow their own toothpaste. They just don’t know any better. They’re somewhat acerebral, like their namesakes.”

“Lying is essential to fit in with society on that all important superficial level.”

“I firmly believe there are too many people on the globe.  One only has to watch a TV talent quest show to know that.”