Diary of a Mad Man

Let me begin to describe loneliness. No. Let me attempt to.

So there's this void, right. Deep down inside your chest. But deep down inside you, metaphorically maybe. Maybe not, we have yet to completely understand the human body and everything tangible, intangible things should be left alone as of yet.

But it's there. Somewhere.

And if you close your eyes, and try to focus on where your mind is at, at the moment, all you see is a blank wall. And it's colorless. Black, if you think of it as a color, I know I don't.

Time Flies by Porcupine Tree is playing in the background as I type this.

And I'm making smoke rings.

And my digestive system is trying to tell me something, but everything in the upper portion - my head, is not picking up much. Maybe I'm hungry? Cigarettes really ruin your appetite, that's one reason never to start smoking.

So as I was saying ...

For me, it's always a headache. Not a metaphorical one, no, a genuine headache. My head hurts. And I don't know why. Plus, winter is right around the corner, and I don't much like fall for that matter. How it only gives way to even more cold, as melancholic and melodramatic as that sounds, take it in the literal sense for it to be less cheesy.

And now my roommate is forcing me to put my headphones on and listen to Bone Thugs N Harmony. I can't listen to the depressing side of Porcupine Tree.

I was wondering. How people are on the inside can be seen by the work they create. And it's sad, but all the people with creativity flowing within them only tend to get darker and gloomy. Poetic Justice, like I once said.

Not that art can't be happy and gay. It just sells much better when it's depressing. Doesn't it?

Happy things you can pass on to people, give them that feeling of joy for a while. But once you package depression, you know you have people hooked.

Then there's Bone Thugs n Harmony and Jay Z, and Tupac. And older cousin of mine, wise fellow - indeed. He told me one day, not to listen to guitar music, and how it rots the brain.

I was thinking about that on the bus today, and I decided to listen to Rap instead for a while. Rap is good music. But here's the thing. You can take whatever music you listen to, and completely turn it around - depending on how You are feeling.

And therefore, even Jay Z and Bone Thugs N Harmony are about blasting guns off, killing people, invoking the sense of control, power and wrath.

For me, at least.

Like Bizzy Bone's verse, my favorite of course, from "Thuggish Ruggish Bone";

Gotta give it on up to the glock glock
Pop pop, better drop when them buckshot, blow
The bone in me never no ho, so no creepin up outta the ziplock
So sin, sip gin, and lil' mo heart run up, nut up
And flipped in, than slipped in, the clip in, mistakin' the bloody victims
Ever if ya test nuts, to the chest and put em to rest
And, but I won't test bucks, put a hole up into me vest
And gotta get through my soul,
but they won't budge, mud, drug me victim
The blood in me runnin' my mental, the thug in me, stuck in me
Keepin' it simple, the bone in me runnin with thugs so
To the temple, buck when you duck to the thuggish ruggish T's
St. Claire P's to appeal to the G's
And a buck to all my enemies

Anyhow. I've deviated again.

I'm trying to fix up my screwed up finances, trying to figure out how much money I've been spending without thinking about it. I know, I know, Sam, long overdue. I know. It's just so fucked up.

You know, loneliness might be part of just expecting too much from people. Expecting them to always be there, at the end of the day, at the end of the line, at the end of it all. But no one ever really is.

Maybe it's just not possible.

Everyone has their own shit to attend to.

*2 hours later*

I just had a really long talk with this very intelligent man, who I have decided to call Lala Jii from today. About religion, humanity, mankind, God/Gods, The Intangible - the human soul, nirvana, consciousness ..

.. and then Rija came online. And now I'm talking to her.

Things are a bit different now. And I don't know what to write anymore.

But the loneliness will stay, and therefore I'll keep coming back to my precious, homely, blog. It's the only true friend I have. It's my head, my thoughts, my brain process, on paper.

And it's all mine.