Saturday, 12 December 2015

Thoughts of an Invisible Man

Another fuse blown. In my head. Another cull of Twitter "followers". I read somewhere yesterday that social media has warped our language. We have accounts with thousands of "friends". But are these "friends"? What then is a friend if you can have thousands of them you've never met? Its more hot air, empty and meaningless.

But I'm not here to discuss that. Borne in on me of late is that this moment, this one, right now, is special. It happens once, never to be repeated. Shouldn't you cherish something like that? It would be a shame to waste it like a Donald Trump of time who, with his braggadocio, wastes moments like dollars because he feels he has so many. Look at me! LOOK AT ME!

No. Time is precious. Short, even. I don't have much. I don't know when the clock stops. Forever. 

My music plays. New music. Music only I have heard. Three more albums. Unpublished. Maybe unpublishable. My music isn't for you. It really isn't. Its my therapy. My crutch. An empty "purpose". The only one I can find. Besides finding words to write. And yet I still feel like a cog in a machine. The things I always didn't want to feel. The reason I hate "employment" and cannot work for companies. The ultimate debasement of the human soul. To feel as if you are a cog. 

The music drones on. Vague. Featureless. Distorted. Alien. Is it a musical autobiography? A cry for help? Sadness that must leak out? The soundtrack to my internal monologue.

I told you it wasn't for you.

I'm reading Camus. He is trying to explain to me, TO ME, why the absurd mandates that I revolt. He is making a good fist of it but I'm not really buying. Sentences, phrases, get jotted down. I understand and agree with the premise ("life is absurd, living is absurdity") but the conclusion seems like just another evasion. He says that no one can follow logic to its conclusion because they only ever follow it until its takes them where they don't want to go. Well, Camus, hoist by your own petard old son! Look in the mirror. Behold the man invoking slippery logic! You're like Kierkegaard but without the Christianity!

On I go. Reading. Listening to the music. 

My life.

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