Here there be monsters (socratic) wrote,
Here there be monsters
socratic

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The trick is to never hate yourself so much that you can't get an erection in your own presence.

Yesterday was a rough day even before class started. It had been filled with subway delays caused by police activity and serious illness in the transportational catacombs of this great city. I was later and more rumpled than I should have been when I showed up for work, not to mention tired from lack of sleep and what my runny nose tells me is an allergic reaction to autumn. I got off from work early, went home, had a very late lunch, and was feeling sluggish and achy as I trundled off to my $3660 4-hours-a-week class.

So of course it would be in this pathetic state that I would run into LHG, sitting on the bench in front of my classroom, her famous strands of hair framing her face and making her look the perfect picture of the ghost of crushes past. I didn't say anything, of course, didn't even consider making eye contact. Just headed into the classroom hoping that she just happened to be there and was not enrolled in the same course as I. As far as I can tell, she isn't. The truth is that in my current state I feel like even more of a neuter than I did four months ago. Back then I was a second semester senior with a very high GPA, plenty to say, a quick wit, and a bright future. Now I'm a graduate with a fancy degree nobody seems to care about, a part time job that could legitimately be handled by a fairly responsible 16 year old, and one solitary class so I can cling to a place where I was at least good at something, even if nobody gave a shit about it. Oh, and I guess I'm slightly less fat, but still more than fat enough.

I don't feel like anything right now. A part time job, a class, and no progress on the independent projects I've always wanted the time to do and now find myself with lots of the time and none of the doing. I've not really been losing weight for the last month or so, although just staying somewhat stable is a small victory, and I need to find new activities and interests. Football and videogames are starting to lose their effect on me as all my interests eventually do, except pornography, food, and writing.

The problem with my life right now is that all my joys are small and insignificant. I bought a new razor, one of the fancy ones with four blades (Eventually our razors are going to have 20 or 30 blades in them as this war of packaging numbers wages on. Facial hair needs to evolve to catch up. We need genetically modified beards to preserve the masculinity of shaving in the face of capitalism. Right now it's so easy and painless that you don't even need cream, and forget about any sort of soothing lotion. Beards need to catch up.) and it's been the highlight of my week. The small things last you only so long. Eventually the big things need to start going right. Meanwhile I'm struggling to stay rooted in the moment and the real world and not collapse into some fantasy realm, such as the so called cyberworld, where things are easier and a little less complicated.

I need to start building a life for myself with my own apartment, or even better house, and some sort of career with future prospects and creative release. That means I need to stay rooted in the real world. The real world, so far as I am concerned, is basically one long progression of fears and rejections and insignificant failures bracketed by lonely orgasms and the occasional four bladed razor that leaves my face smooth and my beard emasculated.

But let's get back to the classroom with the three-lettered ghost sitting in front of it. I have to say that I didn't have an immense reaction to her presence there. That surprised me, and depressed me a little bit. I don't think it's because of growing maturity or strength of character. I think it's because I no longer believe that beautiful creatures like that exist on the same plane of existence as I do. It's not that she's incredibly sexy or sexual or model-like. It's just that she's...interesting, and I don't feel interesting right now. I feel bland and flat and gray.

The class itself is fine. I keep thinking about the money and wondering whether it's worth it. I don't know the answer to that but I think it is. Class is a time when you can get outside yourself and focus on something else, else at least as much as someone like me is actually capable of that. If I were ever in a position to have to defuse a nuclear bomb, with expert help of course, I'd worry about whether my butt crack was showing. I don't know why I think about these things.

The thing is that some of the class is repetitive. The professor has his theories and applies them to documentary like he did films in general. He even recycles some of the lectures from the first class. For the better part of four thousand dollars that's tough to handle. On the other hand they're good theories, at least interesting ones, and the movies are incredible. That's something. I don't know, next semester I should probably take a class at a cheaper institution. Maybe a production class at a community college or a screenwriting workshop at an unaccredited writing institute. At least that would help me prepare the materials I'll need for film school applications. I think.

But this class has its advantages. It's about documentary which is something I wouldn't tend to study on my own, and I'll be doing a film project for it which is absolutely critical for me, to be forced to make something. There's also the fact that the professor and I disagree on a lot of stuff and we argue about it and he doesn't cave to my side. That teaches me a very important lesson, and it forces me to choose between reinforcing his opinions in the hopes of getting a good recommendation (A reason I took this class, after all) and being honest and intellectually engaged and honest. I choose honesty, but forcing the choice in a fairly safe atmosphere is healthy.

At least I think it is.

My life needs a jump start. I need to move away from here and find a real job and maybe a girlfriend (although that's certainly impossible at this point in my life and I'm increasingly convinced for the foreseeable or even unforeseeable future) and start, start I don't know what. I keep telling myself these things, they make sense, I don't believe the points are arguable, but I'm hampered by my skill-set. I have absolutely no idea how one goes about starting to do stuff like this. I'm totally alienated from my own life, and it's enormous work to try to become less alienated. And I need a haircut.

But at least I have a four-bladed razor.
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