The Batshit Hallucinogenic Experience That Comes Back For More
Being alive feels like constantly tripping on acid, except fewer objects squiggle around in your field of vision. I often find myself a dumb slave to my emotions, forever changing my worldview in accordance with how hungry I am, or how many hours I've holed up in my room with a sweater and a messed-up copy of Doctor Zhiavgo. Hence the feeling of LSD.
I'm sick right now, again, since I've just traveled to the Iowa Summer Writing Festival, and I always contract a fun virus whenever I step beyond the threshold of my fuzzy apartment. So, in bed, my brain fizzles and pops with angry, aching, joyful thoughts that will not leave me the fuck alone.
Are you happy? How do you get happy? Is happiness a byproduct of living a baller, good, hardworking life? Should I be attached to everything? Nothing? Should I live underwater in a research sub with no outside contact beyond the translucent shrimp whose mating habits I study? Things like that.
I have zero answers for these queries. Having said that, I know millions of people cherish their own opinions and worldviews with regard to happiness, industriousness, sociability, and achievement. Maybe your answers are cool; keep them to yourself.
I say this not to be a dick (for the most part), but to preserve my own weird unknowing for as long as possible. This is unhealthy.
Oh, wait, but I'm sick! Now it makes sense. When the germs leave my bloodstream, I know I'll feel a surging rush of hope, and the sunrise will appear all the more radiant and precious because I can breathe without my nose funneling mucus onto my chin.
What? External environment significantly impacts internal human conditions? How scintillating.
In other news, the Writers' Workshop was great, and all the humans I met were inspiring and talented. These include: jaded lawyers, a high-schooler, a former rock star, an engineer, a displaced urbanite, and a really smart guy who quoted old works of literature. I am none of those people, but I hung in there and let strangers peer into my book and churn it up like slush and show me beautiful things about it I didn't know before, plus useful ways of improving. Talking to writers is a good thing, I am learning (take note, brain).
I'm sick right now, again, since I've just traveled to the Iowa Summer Writing Festival, and I always contract a fun virus whenever I step beyond the threshold of my fuzzy apartment. So, in bed, my brain fizzles and pops with angry, aching, joyful thoughts that will not leave me the fuck alone.
Are you happy? How do you get happy? Is happiness a byproduct of living a baller, good, hardworking life? Should I be attached to everything? Nothing? Should I live underwater in a research sub with no outside contact beyond the translucent shrimp whose mating habits I study? Things like that.
I have zero answers for these queries. Having said that, I know millions of people cherish their own opinions and worldviews with regard to happiness, industriousness, sociability, and achievement. Maybe your answers are cool; keep them to yourself.
I say this not to be a dick (for the most part), but to preserve my own weird unknowing for as long as possible. This is unhealthy.
Oh, wait, but I'm sick! Now it makes sense. When the germs leave my bloodstream, I know I'll feel a surging rush of hope, and the sunrise will appear all the more radiant and precious because I can breathe without my nose funneling mucus onto my chin.
What? External environment significantly impacts internal human conditions? How scintillating.
In other news, the Writers' Workshop was great, and all the humans I met were inspiring and talented. These include: jaded lawyers, a high-schooler, a former rock star, an engineer, a displaced urbanite, and a really smart guy who quoted old works of literature. I am none of those people, but I hung in there and let strangers peer into my book and churn it up like slush and show me beautiful things about it I didn't know before, plus useful ways of improving. Talking to writers is a good thing, I am learning (take note, brain).
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