~ This node is inspired by Jay McInerney's Bright Lights, Big City, and "Century's End" by Donald Fagen (from said novel's movie soundtrack) ~
- "There's nobody new, so she zeroes in on you for love - which means look, maybe touch, but beyond that not too much. For love. In the city. At the century's end."
I recall a time, in a different life, doing key-bumps in the bathroom of "the new hot place in town." I had just arrived in my attorney's new Porsche convertible. I remember waiting at the bar grinding my teeth, wearing a pair of Dolce & Gabbana jeans and Club Monaco blazer. I looked at myself in the mirror behind the liquor bottles... through my Wayfarers... while impatiently waiting for a gin and soda and gripping my AMEX to the point of nearly bending it in half.
At that moment, I became cogently aware that I was the exact replica of McInerney's "on the precipice" protagonist - disgusted with myself and hopelessly in love with someone who cut me out of their life for some dip-shit cowboy and a new hairdo.
Who wants to be the "real life" version of a screenplay's tragic figure? My existence had gone completely off the rails.
That was the first time I seriously contemplated suicide. Had that coke not been so weak - therein causing me to fall asleep while jerking-off that night - I'd probably have rope burn scars on my neck right now.
The kicker here is... I am not "chemically" depressed. In my dreams I have so much hope. But in my reality, I've no control or part to play in this shithole society. It hurts too much to see my friends dead eyes. It hurts to be condemned by the only people I've ever loved for having faith, and wanting to take roads less traveled. I can't turn myself off like the rest of this planet seems to be able; and even in fleeting moments of pleasure, I shudder with guilt knowing there are so many other people in pain.
What is there left to do...?
For 4 months in 2007, I did Kundalini yoga everyday to the point I was literally forced into a meditative state via exhaustion, and it made me realize the beauty of the spirit's potential. I felt on top of the world. Then I get thrown in the pokey, for no other reason than jealousy and misunderstanding, and it all goes down the shitter.
I have one wish... to experience the feeling of love.
My one ex concerned herself more with upward mobility than compassion; my parents had always lived in different parts of our/their home. From the age of 5, there were innumerable times I was in the middle of confrontations in which I literally ended up bruised and concussed. They've always hated each other, and continue to use me both as a scapegoat for their pain and leverage against each other, leaving me sick with pain beget of anger.
I've only made it this far because I'm wise enough to have learned to hustle while never venturing outside my firm moral parameters. I could be a lawyer right now, but in exchange for my Juris Doctorate, my law school cash-refunded my tuition because I was the short-end of two favoritism sticks and they fucking knew that I knew. I cannot imagine there is no heaven because I have walked my way through hell.
And I've still not broken one vow made to myself, God... or anyone I love - or have loved. I can only do what I'm doing now because I have no fear anymore; when you get shit on for so long, I guess a teflon-esque barrier builds itself around what self-worth you can still possibly maintain.
And I know I'm not alone. In fact, I know I'm part of the majority. A majority without a voice; but I have a voice - and this is my forum.
Lowliness is hardly bearable anymore. The music inside of me has become my only true friend, which subjectively appears to be as ugly as my outside self. My own words have proven disappointingly ineffective, so here I will end with one of my favorite songs... of things beautiful and tragic; manifestations of the lucid un-life:
Manic Street Preachers - If You Tolerate This...