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anyone can tell you there’s no more road to ride

doctor seuss rainy afternoon. thing one and thing two afternoon. it just occurred to me that i associate rainy grey do nothing saturdays with children’s stories. i am a nostalgic child. terribly sentimental. it runs in the family.

it also occurred to me that i am lucky and borderline hedonistic. selfish and whiney. i have practically zero responsibilities aside from requiring money for rent and therefore working a few days a week, but really i have demanded of myself a life where there is ample room to do pretty much anything i want at the drop of a hat. someone else in my position might just fuck the dog a little harder (um sorry that figure of speech got a little out of hand)(rhonda my garbage truck mouth kills yours) and be a little more, lazy? self-indulgent?

the point is i just had one of those a-ha! moments i’m somewhat forcing upon myself to snap out of this bullshit funk that i am in. oh my god it is so tough sometimes, being resigned. it’s an awful way to be but it’s ok (SEE, being resigned again) bad shit just speed bumps off my head and i get over it quicker, that’s one bonus of being a depressed sort. when shit goes bad you do not wig out cos you’re always expecting it to be bad anyway and it kind of always is. when those lucky sod idiot types who are blessed to not know what depression waves are get dealt some bad luck they just crumple to fucking pieces. i almost love it in a way. well, i feel smug is all. like i could deal with that misery in a heartbeat many times better than you’re handling it you pussy.

and so, i think it’s humourous this life i have. my dad always says i WISH i had your problems kid. maybe i’m just not driven enough. or i am but too lazy to push it a little bit further. i feel like time is endless sometimes. or i’m filling it up with the wrong things. oh man is that ever the truth.

someone’s raymi stash.

i think i am going to piss away the afternoon. i hear and see helicopters going overhead. it’s kind of interesting in a boring clipped should i be on edge about this manner. also, a little similar to 9/11 for me. yeah yeah we all know i was living in brooklyn at the time and i’m slightly demented now because of it. sorry maybe experiencing fighter jets in an urbane setting, kinda sorta hardcore? top gun off the top of my brownstone rooftop. you can see the wtc in the second photo of this post, i am 18 and i look like a mod dyke.

I’m sorry you’re so blue, and I’m sorry it’s raining. helicopters are an awful overlay to life, the ultimate sound of power and anxiety (the anxiety of power?). rattling disruption. things with this beast fellow sound like a heartbreak hanging fire and that makes me worry about you. that tumblog is wrenching.

yeah well, what can you do? nothing.

22 thoughts on “anyone can tell you there’s no more road to ride

  1. Do you ever think of traveling or something? Honestly sometimes I just want to spank you because you have so much to give and to write and paint and so many amazing things to do, you are so beautiful and strong and saucy and sad, you deserve to go places and see things, to go on a cross-america road trip or smoke weed on the beaches of thailand or dance with children in africa, fuck shit up everywhere, there are no limits to this. Connecting with each other and our surroundings are crucial for survival, it’s the only way I can, long-term, be alright with myself. I hope you get to see the world, I know you already have seen some, but you really don’t strike me as the type to settle down into a normal life and routine, you remind me of flight.

  2. I had an episode of guilt/panic/depression lately about my outlook on my life. Up until last year I was working a so so office job that I started to desperately hate. Got laid off when the company folded with a nice severance package. Started writing and editing privately and am pleasantly busy, make my own hours, can hang out with family and just drag the laptop along for a week, sleep in on a hangover day etc. etc.

    But my level of depression and complaining rises to my situation sooner or later. I catch myself sighing because I have to write an article or two, or put in a couple of hours, it hangs over my head when I get up, even though I love my work. I feel horrible guilt then, poor me, I work from home and have, like you said, almost zero responsibilities. It makes me feel horrible, ungrateful, and lazy, so I pull the wine out, drink, wake up and repeat.

  3. you look great in polka dots.

    as to your thoughts:
    “”and so, i think it’s humorous this life i have. my dad always says i WISH i had your problems kid. maybe i’m just not driven enough. or i am but too lazy to push it a little bit further. i feel like time is endless sometimes. or i’m filling it up with the wrong things. oh man is that ever the truth.””

    If you are feeling this way, it often times is an indication you may want to change something, even if its a small change,

    be it, something bigger you wanted to finish
    saying no to things that don’t matter enough
    quitting something that just isn’t working for you anymore
    attempting something new
    dumping something old

    I think you get the picture

    as for the depression thing
    its true, when one is dysthymic most of life and has experienced traumas, more than most
    to hear people wining & complaining about the most mundane things

    inside its like, you’ve got to be kidding, give me a gun…

  4. ^ haha @ LOL’s comment about staring a fuckyeahraymi tumblog

    raymi, i believe many brilliant people like you are borderline hedonistic, selfish and whiny (i see it as because they’re far ahead of the rest of the world and therefore bored with most of it, and need something to be occupied with, even being depressed is hedonistic occasionally). have you seen gus van sant’s Good Will Hunting? you remind me of matt damon’s character, so brills and deciding most of the time instead to “piss the afternoon away” (your words). remember that time i interviewed you two years ago, one quote you said that really stuck with me is that you grew up knowing that you will be famous and awesome and respected and then you’ll hand out fuck-you notes to people who didnt believe in you and/or ignored you and/or saw you as a snarky torontonian whining about her life, whatever. i still believe that handing out of fuck-you notes will happen, as in you will become even bigger than the massive blog god you are already. and by then you will have become at peace with yourself just like matt damon rises above his “im too good for these MIT professors and renowned psychiatrist” attitude.

  5. Yeah I never say “fuck the dog”. Because I feel sorry for the hypothetical dog.

    So yes, you’ve trumped my garbage truck this time. Reminds me of “you sunk my battleship!” Oh, maybe we should make “you trumped my garbage truck!” into a thing, you know?

    The other day someone said I should visit Edmonton. I’m sure it’s lovely, but my instant response was to say, “Why in twatting hell should I want to go there?”. Then I giggled because I now think “twatting” is awesome.

    Jesus, can’t believe I’m writing this at 4am.

  6. being lucky, borderline hedonistic, selfish and whiney makes you the ideal Modern Date. throw in your malaise – even with ennui – and that makes you…complex

  7. we found a dr seuss book called dr. seuss went to war when we went down south. it’s all on the internet and somewhat racist, check it out.

  8. i agree with you about unattracive suitors. some might call me shallow, but hot people just have so much more…worth. Thats why I have all my ugly pets put down.


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