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playingthepianodrunk
May 9th, 2012, 05:48 AM
It's early on a Saturday morning, I woke up a half hour ago sweating off last nights drunk. I won't be able to fall back to sleep so I put on Gustav Malher 1st Symphony The TItan. It sounds like I'm in a dream And I wouldn't be surprised if I were. Nothing surprises me anymore.

There is something spirtual about classical music. If you focus on the music really focus, your mind becomes clear and your surroundings begin to dance to the music. Seriously. The movements of all things on Earth can be described in one movement by Beethoven or Mozart. Or maybe I've dropped acid one too many times.

There is nothing much to do around here and I know just as soon as I manage enough balls I'm going to leave this nest. It's no place for me anymore. Nothing for me exists here, but leaving home is hard especially when it's so easy to stay. Not that it is really even easy to stay. For most of us, probably, too many poor memories exist like angry little ghosts. As we come of age our blissful childhood ignorance is shattered by the cleansing of our perception and maybe this is the time when we are most pure. Some of us at least. Our motives are good and our path seems clear but innocence is not for this world.

Still most of the time we don't really know what we're doing and the rare occassions we do our plans always seem to fall to waste. Life is something like swimming in a strong current or tripping on acid your only hope is to let go and work with the force that is much stronger then yourself.

I've watched too many people trip over themselves and in each other in search of over a few elusive words. Words like happiness or love. And in their vain, futile pursuit of these words they lost the only chance at ever gaining these things. You see to truly be happy you must recgonize that it doesn't actually exist. Queer idea but I do believe it. If you spend your whole life believing happiness is just around the corner you will be disappionted everytime you reach the end of the street and turn and nothing is there but a meancing darkness.

I take solace in that instead, like I can never go wrong so I am truly free to live. You have no choices to make and you can never go wrong all you have to do is enjoy the ride.

pitchmid06
May 16th, 2012, 03:35 AM
I like this intro...although I am not sure what to make of this character! It is intriguing and makes me want to learn more, I just wonder where you are heading with this.

Dearest
May 16th, 2012, 10:31 AM
His insights strike me as a bit shallow, like he's full of empty wisdom. It feels as though he's preaching to me more than establishing his own personal philosophy. But that's only a bad thing if it wasn't what you intended.

MrGodlock
May 17th, 2012, 12:10 PM
I hate to bring this up, but there were a lot of spelling and grammar issues in that. I'm sure it's something you would have corrected on your own later. Other than that, he seemed interesting to read about though we still don't really know a lot about him. I am still looking forward to what more will be said about him.

playingthepianodrunk
May 17th, 2012, 11:23 PM
I for one am all to aware of the futile nature of our existence. The hopelessness of our lives. Do you see it? That nothing matters. That nothing could ever possibly matter. What could, better yet what should? I know that as I write this, that it is my only hope. The only thing I have inside of me the only thing I care about yet, my writing. I nurture it like a baby, allowing it to sup from my soul, putting a part of me in these words every time. It is what I wake up for, it is my biggest anguish as well as my biggest pleasure. And why do I write? I guess to be remembered long after I die, to maybe change someone's world like some have changed me. But can't you see that none of that matters either. What do I care about what people think about me after I've died I don't care what people think of me now. And I have tried to explain my point of view to people but it always fails. We can never understand one another. Things become confused and reality becomes clouded like the morning fog. And isn't it clear the truth is a different thing to each and everyone of us. What one person might hold a dear part of their life and philospohy another might view as unnecesarry and false. So tell me what does it matter? Are we not all waiting to die, tiresomely hoping that someone our something will show us the way. But it never happens.

playingthepianodrunk
May 17th, 2012, 11:36 PM
And all things have been said of all the dead people. Half bright professors talk to death of the words of dead men. Each one pretending to know more of the intended sentiment or philosophy then the next. And what do they think of life never mind I'd rather not know. That is why I never went to school. I'm tired of listening to people opinions and I'm even more tired of arguing. It has been a long while since I met someone with a even vaguely interesting point of view. I'm tired of people of their false enthusiasm of their self-righteous and baseless judgments. I'm tired of these people who cling mercilessly to our world of lies. Tell me the contrary is true, that our world is based on a solid moral foundation. No, we built our home on the blood of others and then we were surprised when it sunk into the earth.

playingthepianodrunk
May 17th, 2012, 11:47 PM
And all things have been said of all the dead people. Half bright professors talk to death of the words of dead men. Each one pretending to know more of the intended sentiment or philosophy then the next. And what do they think of life never mind I'd rather not know. That is why I never went to school. I'm tired of listening to people opinions and I'm even more tired of arguing. It has been a long while since I met someone with a even vaguely interesting point of view. I'm tired of people of their false enthusiasm of their self-righteous and baseless judgments. I'm tired of these people who cling mercilessly to our world of lies. Tell me the contrary is true, that our world is based on a solid moral foundation. No, we built our home on the blood of others and then we were surprised when it sunk into the earth.


So why do I write? Simply because I must. Because there is no other way. I need to write like I need to breathe. Like a politician must lie, I must tell my truth. This is my story. It is only the way I see it. It is only my truth, but maybe together we can find something about ourselves.


You see we are not so different you and I. I am as scared and confused as any. Like a deer caught in the headlights of life, I know any movement of mine would be futile. But still I go on. Because I must. Because I have somewhere in the back of my mind this silly notion, so contrary to everything I have have said thus far, that the world is good. That people are worth believing in and maybe worth fighting for. Something in me believes that I am destined to, to change the world if even in the most minute way.

If not then why? Why are we here at all.

(I am reading Notes From The Underground) part of my inspiration to the disparaging nature of this character plus my own hopeless disillusioned side.