I tried writing poetry today (also known as “lyrics“), but it fucking wouldn’t work. I don’t have it in me at this moment. I have the potential of making a great instrumental song, but the lyrics? No, not today. Probably too much…no, I won’t say that. I won’t say I feel too shitty, because you can never feel too shitty for art. Art is supposedly better the crappier off you are. And I’m nowhere near a masterpiece, despite feeling pretty bad now. And I don’t have the courage to say it out loud. Or write it directly to someone. Therefore, I blog.
Will there in the future be so that pupils at school will have to read through blog posters blog posts? That would be something, wouldn’t it? But why not? If it’s a bit factual or lyrical anyways. Not just “outfit of the day”. That would be more for the cultural studies. It would be grand to be one of those they had to read. I hope it could be me. Don’t think so, but I still hope. I should really get around to writing that fucking book. No idea what it should be about though. It will be non-fiction. As in neither science fiction, nor past fiction. Guess the term should be something like…well, non-fiction. But that’s already coined for factual texts.
So I sit here, listening to the same song without any meaning, just because it’s soothing. Comforting even, perhaps. It has nothing to do with my mood. The lyrics are about some party. I really don’t care. The melody is just…calm. Calm and flowing. And then I don’t have to find a new song and a new band and a new album and a new genre all the time. It just is there. It can keep playing all night for what I care. Might change it eventually. Will not be satisfied with changing it, but felt it was what was expected of me. Probably. I was just sitting here in peace and quiet before I put it on.
My heart is in so much pain. The blade is my only comfort. It’s gone too far again.