If Happiness is a Warm Gun, Then I've got a Cabinet Full of Euphoria (966 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.72 on 21 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by someone (View user info) at 2005-03-06 12:29:49 EST
Why can't I meet a girl I even give the slightest damn about? I know that in the back of my head, that the girls I meet are my own fault, I have a fetish for methanphetamine addicts who are into giving rim jobs, and the opposite, the nice girl who meets me downing beers at a local bar and thinks I'm hot--two weeks later won't talk to me because I have drug and drinking problems--except they have no opinion of their own, they just hate both because of what they learned from after school specials and anti-addiction government propaganda and let's not forget, of course, what brainwashing tactics the parents have put into their walnut sized brains.
Fuck that.
If John Lennon said Happiness is a Warm Gun, I say its those few hours of bliss when the schoolwork and corporate slaving is over and the opiates reach into my brain and hit those receptors, any more dopamine production in my brain and I'll be driven to madness, I swear. -Or- we can tip the bottle and let the alcohol reach the bloodstream and numb the senses so for a while everything seems all right--to my friends, these were the best times of our life, a second of being together so we don't have to feel alone all the time. That sounds overly sappy, what I meant was any time you guys are down to pick up some drunk sluts, I'll be here waiting, lighting a bowl behind a book or computer screen and watching the clock tick down the last seconds of the day. So it goes.
My only outlet, going on vacation, has been prolonged to summer; either a cross country road trip or a month spent in Europe, I'm not sure how to waste the money. Cancun is out of the question, jury duty is keeping me on lock down in the States, have fun boys, contract some STD's for me, sometimes I wonder if having a permanent disease to deal with isn't better, it keeps your mind off the pain in life and keeps you dealing on a day-to-day basis.
I have these secret desires to sell everything I have and take a few grand out of the bank and hop on my motorcycle (I'll need to keep this for my plan, so I'm not contradicting myself) and grab a backpack and a few books, On The Road, Notes from the Underground, and some Salinger book, a notebook and a few changes of clothes and get the fuck away from everything, all my family, friends, enemies, connections and dead end jobs and drive off--I'll come back in a year, happy and wealthy and with satori--I promise. That's how the plan goes, a young man deluded on young person angst literature and high on dreams that can only remain dreams.
It's funny how much I hate the materialistic bastards and narcissistic meatheads--I think to myself how ignorant and foolish they are, nothing matters, and yet I'm working my way up the intellectual ladder and typing this sentence RIGHT NOW on a brand new Mac laptop, a car and a motorcycle in the driveway, what do I know? I want to be poor and hopeless and without any expectations to live up to, just that exact moment, but isn't that so easy to say when you're clean and dressed warm and money sits collecting interest in the bank. If hypocrisy is a field of study, I have a doctorates.
I'm floating in a black balloon
On tea A easter afternoon
My mama told me 'baby stay clean'
There's no in between
All you ladies and you gentlemen
Between all you've ever seen or been
Fit poorly and arranged on sight
Doll it up in virgin white
You disappoint me
You people raking in on the world
The devil's
Script sells
You the heart of a blackbird
-Elliot Smith
User Reviews
Submitted by the_lone_stranger (user info) at 2005-03-24 01:12:07 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
That's nice. BTW, I met the girl you are looking for and went ahead and married her for ya. I'll let you know if I see any more.
Submitted by RideJohnnyRide (user info) at 2005-03-07 20:42:12 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I forgot to two this yesterday
Submitted by MrWillard (user info) at 2005-03-07 04:23:08 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
You mean this post isn't about Glock or Smith and Wesson.
Damn.
I need sleep.
Submitted by TuTs (user info) at 2005-03-07 01:59:23 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
If only for the title.
Submitted by bush_for_god (user info) at 2005-03-07 01:28:54 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
+2
Submitted by DonovanMD (user info) at 2005-03-07 01:25:55 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
A very interesting take.
Submitted by bush_for_god (user info) at 2005-03-07 01:19:47 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
+2 for the title alone...
...now i'm going to read it
Submitted by Banga3386 (user info) at 2005-03-07 01:17:30 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
If hypocrisy is a field of study, I have a doctorates.
I just really liked that line. You state your thoughts and call yourself on your own bullshit, very admirable.
Submitted by static416 (user info) at 2005-03-07 01:09:47 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Well said, its stuff like this that makes me realize that we're all more alike than we think, and more different than we know.
Submitted by munkeypants (user info) at 2005-03-06 17:50:42 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by AlkalineSolo (user info) at 2005-03-06 15:33:23 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I want to sell everything and buy a plane ticket to malasia or somewhere lie that, and just be a jungle hermit, living off the monkeys I kill.
Submitted by shitfuck (user info) at 2005-03-06 14:23:09 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
That's actually a really good point BigJoe.
Submitted by spacemonkey (user info) at 2005-03-06 14:22:57 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Shine on me cus its raining in my heart.
Submitted by BigJoe (user info) at 2005-03-06 14:20:06 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
Try hard work in dirt. It works. Farming, gardening, hunting. As long as it is in nature and difficult.
Submitted by shitfuck (user info) at 2005-03-06 12:57:24 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Do it. Sell everything and leave. You only get one chance at life, so rape the fuck out of it and leave half dead and bloody behind some dumpster.
Or just stay at home and become a highly skilled jerk of artist.
PS--I'll go to jail with you anytime.
PPS-Try Somerset Maughaum. I fukced that last name up, but that's ok, I'm fucking stoned and pissed off at just about everything on earth.
I might just go out and kill something beautiful.
Submitted by FelizJbirth (user info) at 2005-03-06 12:54:03 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I love you
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2005-03-06 12:50:08 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Something about this I didn't like...but it wasn't the writing. The writing was solid.
Submitted by LadyPlural (user info) at 2005-03-06 12:50:02 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
Well, damnit, something is wrong then. Half the people I know are mired in the middle of an existiential malaise (myself included- alas) and none of us know why. I mean, I doubt that this was much of an issue on the savannah, so what happened? We are missing something important. Maybe it's a sense of purpose, or maybe it's not having to really really work for most things, or maybe it's that we aren't nearly as likely to just suddenly die. But my god, whatever it is, it needs to fucking stop. I'm a relatively normal, healthy individual and there is no reason whatsoever for me to feel like stabbing myself in the face repeatedly, just to have a sense of meaning or purpose for a bit. I'm sure that I'm being a silly, overprivledged teenager, but it doesn't feel right. Existential ennui is not a good state of mind to be in.
I have more to say, but I need to do schoolwork. Maybe I'll be back later and whine some more.
Submitted by c1ndy (user info) at 2005-03-06 12:48:34 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
No Comment
Submitted by FilthyAssistant (user info) at 2005-03-06 12:40:03 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Made me wonder whether people hunting their own food on the savannah ever get stuck in an existential malaise.
Submitted by stardamage (user info) at 2005-03-06 12:38:09 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
"I have these secret desires to sell everything I have and take a few grand out of the bank and hop on my motorcycle (I'll need to keep this for my plan, so I'm not contradicting myself) and grab a backpack and a few books, On The Road, Notes from the Underground, and some Salinger book, a notebook and a few changes of clothes and get the fuck away from everything, all my family, friends, enemies, connections and dead end jobs and drive off--I'll come back in a year, happy and wealthy and with satori--I promise."
I think everyone has those kind of dreams. I'd love to do exactly that, just pack some stuff in the car and bring my favorite music and books and just drive.