Murakami

I moved
And I work more
That's why.
Well, that's part of the reason why.
I never know what to do to change my place in the world sometimes.
I don't write because I don't feel anything worth writing about.
I don't update statuses because I don't feel its anything worth updating
And apparently I don't type correctly anymore
It took me like a whole minute to spell "statuses" correctly
(Hah! only 10 seconds that time)

it's not that i don't know how to spell the word
my fingers just didn't want to respond correctly.
Much like now, I've been making a hideous amount of spelling mistakes
For no apparent reason.

What was I talking about?
Nothing of consequence I'm sure.
Not that it should be of consequence
People take shit way to seriously
Like all the time
But
Lets not get into that
I have been filled with seething rage for people in the last few weeks
And this is not the place to air all of my frustrations.

Murakami is a great writer.
Everyone says I don't read
Or rather I can't read
Because it's true
I can't
I find myself unable to get through most books
I fall asleep, I read the same lines over and over again
It's just...uninteresting to me
But
Murakami's novels completely throw that out of the window
I don't know why
They just do.
Maybe it's the subtle sex that he throws in there
maybe its the obvious...well, I don't know whats obvious
He's just good.

I'm not here to polish his balls or anything
I just got done taking a shit
and I happened to be reading his book while doing so
So it's the last thing on my mind.

Unless of course, you'd rather I talk about my shit.
I doubt that
I don't even wanna talk about my shit
It's...shit.
Poo.
Fecal Matter.
Movement of my bowels.
We get the point.
Junkman's Daughter even has a book about it
It's called "Everybody Poops"
Original, yes?
(Fantastic Read, bee tee dub)

I am interested in Twitter.
I don't know why.
I find myself compelled to try all the social networks
The thing is
I really can't stand people though.
I don't get it myself
I work at a job where I am required to meet new people every single day
And to make it worse, they get to treat me however they want
(Mostly)
Yet
I keep going back.
I don't particularly understand why people are so fond of me
Well, that may be a lie
I know exactly why people are fond of me
Because I feed you the bullshit you want to hear.
Because I know you
And you know I know you.
Because I at least pretend to listen
Because I'm a genuinely nice guy.

But I really hate you.
Maybe not you specifically
You might have traits that I like
Or maybe you don't
You're never quite sure
But I'm still a nice guy.

I could've sworn I said this wasn't the place for this little excerpt
But apparently it is.
I don't know.

I've been feeling a lot of self-doubt lately
A loss of self
and a general depression
Not entirely sure why
(I can tell it's depression because my libido is fucked up)
(It's sad when you have to make yourself masturbate)

Life gets like that sometimes.
Not entirely sure what to do about.
Not sure if there's something I can do about it.
Then again, I'm never really sure of anything
So it's not entirely different.

I won't say that things will work out for the best
I will say however that things will work out.
Because they do.

So as I sit here inevitably pushing myself deeper into Alcoholism
(I really wish people would stop giving it a bad reputation)
(I wear the title of "Alcoholic" proudly because to me it represents someone
that simply enjoys the consumption and taste of various forms of alcohol)
(Like a Foodie, only with less fetishism)
I do the normal
Pondering my existence, questioning the meaning of life, so on and so forth
And this will undoubtedly reflect here because this is where I go when I feel like writing.
So we'll see.
I'm sure I'll update within the next few days
And then probably not for weeks.
Probably.