I got down and dirty with my own psyche Tuesday night.
I need to be shocked, stunned and amazed. I am so bored with my life that I walk through it like a zombie.
The alarm goes off and I perform the tasks expected of me that day like a well programmed automaton. I absorb all the punches and body blows, internalizing the pain. I stagger home at night and collapse into the anti-ambition chair and wonder in muted horror how my life devolved to this nightmare.
Living a life I don't believe in, a life so foreign to my natural essence that I look upon it as if I were an outsider.
I say I wonder how I got here but the truth is that I know in my heart, my head and my soul that I put myself here. There is no blame to be distributed except for the blame that destroys me in the mirror every morning.
The true wonder in my head is how I allowed this to happen with eyes wide open.
This is why I read what I read. This is why I watch the movies that I watch. This is why I listen to the music that I listen to. This is why the topics that interest me, interest me.
I cannot stand the artificially sweetened life that I walk through every day. The playacting, the false reality, the lost and lonely people who lie to themselves and to me.
I need to be jolted, I need it like a drug.
I watched a movie called "Angels Crest" on Tuesday night. In the dark, alone, except for my cats, two slices of extra cheese pizza and a beer.
On NETFLIX, the movie is described this way: "A young father inadvertently allows his 3 year old son to freeze to death. But as he tries to manage his grief, the man comes under harsh criticism."
If you are interested in watching this movie, stop reading.
The father takes his son out for a ride in the dead of winter. Dad sees a deer, decides to track it, leaves his son in the car seat with the truck running and heater on high and lurches through the snow. The car seat is defective, the kid releases himself, climbs out of the truck and wanders through the woods.
When dad comes back to the truck he realizes the kid is gone. He searches, the search escalates as time goes by and people volunteer to help. Ultimately dad finds his son dead in the snow.
Please do not misunderstand me. I love children and animals. I worship them because they are pure.
Purity does not exist in any form in any other avenue of our existence. We yearn for purity but it escapes us because poison seeps into every life.
The fact that the son died made me uncomfortable, which is what I liked about the beginnings of this story. I need uncomfortable.
The story goes on from there, you get tangled up in the lives that dad's life is tangled up in, and in the end dad commits suicide.
Not a happy story, not a happy ending.
I enjoy a story like that deeply. It resonates with me. I don't know what that says about me and frankly I don't care.
On the most basic of levels a story like that makes me feel.
A story like that is honest to me, it reflects life back at you in a harsh and truthful way.
I would rather be slapped in the face and hurt in the heart by a sad song or a dark story than to perpetuate the boredom in my life through predictability.
Boring lyrics, happy endings.
My life is anathema to me.
I seek release and relief through raw emotion and disturbing feelings. I seek it in the written word, movies, philosophies, music, and art.
I seek it with a vengeance and a purpose.
I don't apologize for that and I never will.