Whenever I read Noam Chomsky, I find myself overcome with two opposing sensations: a feeling of awakened awareness, and an overwhelming powerlessness and depression, which then gives way to denial. Like Neo right after Morpheus revealed the truly horrifying nature of reality to him. But I'm not going to hurl all over the floor.

Actually, today as a whole has found me in a rather down mood. I'm not sure why exactly, because yesterday was most enjoyable. The erratic weather might play a role, but I suspect there's more going on than that. Generally speaking, when one's thoughts spend an inordinate number of cycles drifting toward thoughts of how nice it might be if this life could just end forever, chances are there's something going on besides the overcast sky and chilly air outside.

An evening tv lineup of Charmed followed by Alias provided a decent, if temporary distraction from my mind trying to eat itself alive. The act of binging on Evanescence tunes for a while... Well, I'm not exactly sure if that made it better or worse. I'll opt for better, on the grounds that that it (1) reminds me for the zillionth time that I'm not the only entity on the planet with some some truly freaky thoughts, and (2) adds an element of delight and wonder to the dreary vibe, which is good.

I was especially struck this time, listening to the song Exodus closely for the first time. The lyrics just hit right where I've felt on so many occassions.

I hate it when my own mind won't stop fucking with me. I want it to stop. Please. Now.

At which point, the rage inside becomes so violent that I am required to exercise a large dose of well honed self-control to prevent myself from smashing anything and everything in the general vicinity. Instead, I channel the angest into my jaw muscles, and grab anything in reach to stuff between my teeth (or, if nothing is avaible, my own hand will do), and bite down as hard as possible until the song is over.

Shit, why am I writing this here now? I didn't want it to come out here this way now. I wanted to write nice, insightful, happy things tonight.

"Sorry pal. Doesn't work that way."

This doesn't add up. Specifically, I don't add up. I am a problem to which there is no solution.

I really should just be medicated into a freakin coma for all eternity. Maybe that would solve it.

My poor dad. He's back to working at the newspaper job he hoped to never return to. They're slimeballs there. I know that first hand myself. Been over that before though.

So maybe it's not just about me. I just wish this whole world, and all the stupidity that exists within it could just stop. For everybody. An end to all suffering. That would be a good thing, right?

I hate the empty, lonely silence that I know is going to follow after I post this. I like lively, good spirited online discussions, yet I know that the stuff I'm saying is so fucked up that even the few people who read it are going to be unlikely to have anything to say, cause how can anybody really respond to this stream of crap? If somebody else was writing what I have been, I wouldn't know what to say either. In the end, I have nobody to thank for my dilemma but myself.

And maybe I don't really want any response anyway. Maybe I just want to vent into the darkness. Easier that way. It was simpler to run a webpage back in the days when there were no public reader comments of any kind. It had a different feel, a different aesthetic. More anonymous back then. Just me, writing a few of whatever thoughts happened to creep into my mind, and other people could wander by and read them if they felt so inclined. No feedback, except perhaps the occassional email. It was simpler.

These days, even without trying, everytime I post something, there are thoughts at the back of my mind about what the responses might or might not be, whether it's likely to trigger a flamewar, etc etc etc. Usually, that's good, but not always. Sometimes I just want to write for the hell of it without having to think about possible reader comments or lack thereof. That way madness lies.

Different music now.

I hate the idea that I have no control over the course of my life. Maybe that's what's been nagging at me. Everywhere I go, I feel like I'm being pushed along by so many currents that are so completely out of control, anything I do is inconsequential. Under that scenario, there is no hope.

Oh well. I guess I better get some sleep. The truth has found me.