1.20.09: The End of an Error?

One king steps down and another takes his place. It doesn't really matter who is in charge because this country is doomed, DOOMED! Maybe I've been reading too much Toynbee lately, but I don't see how one man can possibly arrest the slow disintegration of our civilization. The economy is fucked. The middle class has finally seen the end of its entitlement. The best minds of our generation are waiting tables and pumping gas. We've proclaimed the deification of profit and consumption. Our government is a bloated bitch-goddess with an insatiable appetite for money and failure. We have enemies everywhere. Our culture is a pathetic rotten shell of its former self. Our society is morally bankrupt. We are actively working to destroy our environment. A man's greatest hope is to die quietly in bed surrounded by his stuff. We have no long term vision or planning. We're day to day and hand to mouth. I'm glad Obama has made “hope” a central pillar of his presidency, because that is all we really have left.

Champs-elysées

Je m' baladais sur l' avenue
Le coeur ouvert à l' inconnu
J' avais envie de dire bonjour
A n' importe qui
N' importe qui et ce fut toi
Je t' ai dit n' importe quoi
Il suffisait de te parler
Pour t' apprivoiser
Aux Champs-Elysées
Aux Champs-Elysées
Au soleil, sous la pluie
A midi ou à minuit
Il y a tout c' que vous voulez
Aux Champs-Elysées
Tu m' as dit : "Jai rendez-vous
dans un sous-sol avec des fous
qui vivent la guitare à la main
du soir au matin"
Alors je t' ai accompagnée
On a chanté, on a dansé
Et l' on a même pas pensé
A s' embrasser
Aux Champs-Elysées
Aux Champs-Elysées
Au soleil sous la pluie
A midi ou à minuit
Il y a tout c' que vous voulez
Aux Champs-Elysées

Missing fishy flutter on it's rudder...

Boat on a hill, never going to sea.
Anchored to a fixer upper's dream.
This boat is beat, never gonna be a boat now.
Seems it never had a chance.
I wanna be a boat.
I wanna learn to swim.
Then I'll learn to float.
Then begin again.

The Wisdom of Christopher Moore...

"It's hard for me to stay in the moment. Without the past, where is the guilt? And without the future, where is the dread? And without guilt and dread, who am I?"

---- from Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal

If you aren't reading Moore, you're missing out.

a poisoned place where nothing grows

A Nice End to a Foul Year

I'm glad that 2008 has passed. It wasn't exactly a banner year for old Josh. In fact, I think I could safely say that it was the worst year of my life. Hopefully there wasn't any permanent damage done. At least I feel pretty eager to move on in 2009. Fuck it.

Anyway, Michigan was a blast. Time spent with old friends and family boosted my spirits. Being home made me feel almost whole again.

Some pictures for your entertainment:



At the top of the hill:



Me crashed at the bottom:



Just before we all sniffed Cognac:



Sniffing Cognac is a bad idea:



Me saying something stupid:



I thought it might be fun to finish the hurricane punch:



Looks like I spilled some:



A New Year:

Black Dog Bitch

That fucking black dog has been sniffing around again. Talk about an uninvited guest. I woke up this morning and the word “strangle” came to mind. That is what it feels like. Oxygen is cut off. I can't breathe. Energy dissipates. Hope is snuffed out. Friends and family are cut off. That bitch prowls the yard, daring me to step outside. My mind becomes my prison. My thoughts and heart race. All intellectual activity is submerged in endless conversations with myself. I might say that it is impossible for you to understand if you haven't suffered from it. But that doesn't really mean anything. This is my problem, not yours. I have this reality, and you do not. It is that simple. Of course you can't understand my reality. I can't understand yours either. So we agree to a mutual lack of understanding.

Then suddenly, the black dog slinks off into the bush. Like this morning. No particular reason. (I know that is not true, but I say it anyway.) As easily as she came, she went. But alas, I know she is still out there, just beyond my senses. She waits for weakness and will come calling again. Part of me needs her. It's a fairly sick and unhealthy relationship, but perfection takes time and that is okay.

I've been reading Camus lately. It helps me get by. I find I'm not alone in living a life without meaning. It is an absurd world, and that is just fine. I must accept that I am living a life without appeal. Camus finds liberation in acknowledging this important truth. I can too.