all you do is lay around all day

The Good, The Bad, The Internet

Everyone can be despondent sometimes. It's the technology. Or maybe it's just how everyone felt, when they were transitioning, fifty years ago, but put typed it out on a typewriter instead of instantly publishing it. It was kept secret for awhile. Pounded out onto paper, to be kept and hidden until it was ready to be revealed. The people who read it, and remained quiet were those who you never would have intended to respond. Never imagined that they would be the ones you wanted to read it.

The weather is hackneyed. A sort of punchline someone published a long time ago as a filler for stale conversation. An easy routine. This weather always presents itself differently yet it is something which conjures many memories for me. A mellow warmth, tempered by the cool winds which fill the air. As I sit inside my apartment and wonder about Chicago and Lakeside Drive. I'm a few hours behind on the typical drinking of one night and my alcohol fueled ramble comes while others are falling asleep. No triumph for the truth which is dragged out by some substances which lend themselves to humble substance. This is as close as it gets to some sort of diluted honesty wrapped in misguided poignancy sloppily berated and immediately warranting an apology. This is pretentious. It's camouflage and it's keeping me hidden all the while trying too hard to blend in.

I've wronged and paid for it with friendship. A mistake which causes such hardly commendable reflection in the middle of the night as... as.

This writing has failed, as I am sure that you have no idea what I am talking about. Perhaps some of it resounds with you, perhaps you wish I'd just shut up.