(no subject)

What a beautiful day.

I spent the day wandering around my house, hanging and arranging my art pieces and drinking wine.

Strange thing I realized recently, all these things that we are trained to desire, to strive for in life (house, 2.5 kids and half a dog), in the scope of things make very little difference.

It is strange having all this space to myself.

I have to some extent lost touch with reality. Of course my grasp on my reality has always been tenuous at best.

My life is unreal, false, unfamilar. Who are we anyway?

How unreal things can get. I live in a 5 bedroom house, by myself, this week I only worked two days.
"The American Dream", been there, done that, whats next.

Is this all life has to offer? I sure am an ungrateful wretch.

Too be honest, I am disappointed, I expected it to be more of a challenge.

Our culture rewards sucess, according to it morals, I am more of a person because of my salary, because I can have a house custom-built. What bullshit.

If you havent realized, I am a particularly skilled in hypocracy.

I despise the consumerist IKEA society, but I still spend an entire day moving art around my house debating with myself over the lighting and whether the purple vase is better used bringing out the purple in my comforter, or as a contrasting color in my entertainment room. (I decided upon the former.)

Tomorrow I will spend an hour arranging fresh flowers and putting them in vases around my house. Why do I do this? The simple answer is I enjoy it, I enjoy the smell of fresh flowers, I enjoy looking at them, I enjoy spending the time to arrange them.

Strange how life is. I hardly work, get paid an obscene amount of money for it, live in a beautiful house, I just bought a Ducati for fun. Do I feel guilty, No, I just wonder how much is truely a result of my accomplishments and how much is something else. I can stroke my ego all night about the reasons I have achieved what I have, I can tell myself that this and that is why I am "sucessful" and while most of it is true, the question still haunts me. So what?

What exactly is the point of buying that house, that car, whatever. Drink Budweiser and the Swedish Bikini Team will break down your door to fuck you.

Is this what we are reduced to?

Why do I bother with any of it?

(no subject)

I am a surrealist.

The world is my canvas.

My life my experiement.

The past 24 hours have been delightfully seperated from reality.

I had a fabulous steak, at a restaurant filled with artificial people.

I had perverted sex with a woman with silicon breasts. ( author's note: while silicon can be fun to play with, I cant understand why a woman would do it. personally, I would never date a woman with fake tits. fuck yes, date no. Women I date must above all comprehend class and style, and silicon breasts are tres tacky.)

I spent 3 hours shopping, and bought an entire new wardrobe.

Life is fabulous.... hmm that really depends how you measure it doesnt it?

Strangely as long as I can be disconnected from the reality of the world, my life is spectactular.

What problems? there are three rules in life.

Always be willing to go farther and do more than the other guy.

Someone else always has it worse off.

And everything is divine when compared to a sharp stick in the eye.