red right ankle

In a perfect world, if we could honestly talk about feelings and thoughts and blurring smoking guns like that, would the world really would be a better place. Some days I wish we could. Then we'd preserve all the relationships we want to keep and lose all those we don't appreciate.

Except that, in reality, most people too many emotions to keep in constant update. And since there is this plethora of possible emotions, natural probability, all things being equal, suggests that the chances that two emotions coincide, is very very low. So, chances are, very very few people would be happy and well you'd end up hurting all these people unintentionally and it just be a disaster and we'd all die from like over-communication or mouth strains or some forsaken thing.

But if we honestly feel this way, is knowing better in general?

I don't know. I think honestly though, I’m happier this way, with the sporadic days of extreme joy and extreme pain associated with the release of pent up emotion. And the eternity of not- great days safe days in the shadow of not knowing.

I think hugh grant should be prime minister of Britain. Then the UK would no longer be an American lap dog. And following suit John Howard would no longer be bush's sheriff. And all alone in the uncivilised world American would finally lose it's unchallenged hegemony and go back to being a controllable super power. And we'd have world peace.

Sometimes I think I think too much about stupid things that shouldn't be over analysed but taken for their surface worth. In this sudden angst ridden MTV generation no body seems superficial enough anymore. Life would probably be a lot better if we stopped bogging it down with paranoia and imaginary baggage.

And maybe if we listened to more music from the seventies the bleakness of the past could illuminate our futures. We’d have like these wing tipped rose tinted huge shades that's just make everything cool.

But well I write from here at wits end. And at this port we do much wishing

Love Machine, Arctic Monkeys (cover)

And maybe someday we’ll have been friends forever and it will be enough and the length of time will make our friendship self sufficient like one of those new hdb estates that slowly becomes it’s own new town and it’s just enough.

Today was a bit of a terrible day. Even scrubs and Becker were sad. And grey’s just well mostly it made you want to just top yourself. I have this book. It’s called today was a terrible day. One of those kids books that is like 4 pages long but has in recent years become incredibly expensive you know. I don’t get it I mean the writing’s not great, the illustrations are so so in most of these things and they’re for like two year olds who are going to eat them anyway so what are you paying for really.

Somehow, for reasons I still don’t understand, all these Alexis Strum songs have popped up on my playlist so it’s been an uninspiring lot.

When I blog I type in tiny font and honestly it’s because the smaller it is, the more difficult to read, the smaller the readership and thus the more honest the writing. Or at least that’s what I tell myself. But mostly it’s a lie.

Do you ever feel like your words are trapped in the segment of your fingers that’s right before your fingertips and if you ramble on for long enough material will eventually flow. That reminds me of that movie, you know the one about the famous writer who is training this kid to be a writer and he got him to just keep copying a book till finally the motion became so unconscious that the literature just kind of flowed out of him. Perhaps all literature is in us just dying to get out suppressed by our consciousness.

And maybe one day the length of our friendship will be enough and I’ll stop counting down to our dateline.

Someday real soon my paranoias are really going to get me into trouble and I’ll just lose everyone and spontaneously combust. Even that’s paranoia. God I just can’t win today.