Old Stuff: Enter the Mind of a Lunatic

As my collection of years living grows, so does my knowledge of the world and all its thrills and frills. A certain by-product of this has come to my attention recently. I was always a cynical man, even when I was a wee tot seeing the funeral procession of Elvis Presley for the first time. The odd mixture of sadness and mourning thrown together with celebrity worship of a pagan false idol by millions of professed Christians was too much for my tiny infant brain to make sense of. That and the real problem of my families' dissolution was enough to teach me that everything can be broken, no matter how we try to preserve it. I learned (or concluded) that nothing was sacred. Not family, religion, country, love, Santa Claus, whatever. It's all there as fluff. The real meat seemed to be the pain that comes before and after an "occurrence." "Occurrence" referring to an event in one's life, such as a birth, wedding, graduation, etc. These are the things we constantly work towards and apparently live for, giving meaning to our ticking clock on earth. For me, as the cynical man-child I have been, these things don't hold much importance. Less and less as each decade passes over me. What are we really here for, I ask myself. Unfortunately myself is an asshole at times, so I never get an answer. My only theory is that, for me, it's the inevitable deterioration of things. My lust for life has faded as I've gotten older just as one's memory or physical capabilities go the way of the dodo. My interest in true expression is still strong, I think. Maybe stronger than ever. I come here and I spill my tainted blood onto this keyboard in the hopes that the translation comes out right. It feels good to write it, and I hope there's someone out there who's bored enough to take the time to read these words, no matter how ridiculous they may be. You do a great service to me imaginary mystery reader. I write for myself, and for you. CLINK. GLUG, GLUG, GLUG, GLUG. SEE GOD. PASS OUT.