After waking up in the early afternoon, I lay in bed for hours looking at front line photographs and video out of Syria. Christmas is almost here, and the magic I felt last night when I was getting out of work seems to have evaporated.
I was once asked by a friend if I was obsessed with death. The answer I gave was yes, but it’s more complicated than that. The obsession is really a recurrence, as if death were a dream I could not keep having. Every solidly acceptable moment in my life, every success, every bite of a delicious dessert, every bonus, all lack meaning in the grand scheme of life and death.
That, I suppose, is the perspective you attain when you’ve spent the waking hours of your day in bed looking at a computer screen with information streaming in about a far-off war with concerns you’ll probably never fully understand. That’s okay; it isn’t a waste of time. As a matter of fact, nothing is a waste of time. That’s just what other people try to tell you so that their chaotic world can appear orderly for the time being.
Edit: GONNA hIT ThA GYM LATER….
October 4 2013
Photo with 4 notes
Text reblogged from redlightyear with 1 note
I got into fights with everyone
fights with the girls for not wanting to play
fights with the guys for not wanting to fight
fights with the teachers for not wanting to write
fights with my priest for not wanting to pray
lick a limerick you lint lobster
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