I Don't Play Guitar

Today I woke up early, about a quarter past noon.  I laid in bed until around one thirty, when my friend Rachel told me to get out of bed because she had come over to my place and wanted me to get some sunlight.  Honestly, she made a pretty good call. We went to a park and swung some on the swing set.  My oldest memory is of swinging.  My grandfather used to push me for hours, or what seemed like hours, when I was a little kid living with him and my grandmother.  On my mom's side.  That is specificity that is required I suppose.  The sun did me good.

But now there is a choice.  What do I do with my afternoon?  I am blogging now.  But I have options for the day.  I am going to move Angel's electric piano into my living room, and plug that in.  Do I read Atlas Shrugged and annotate the sections I wanted to while listening to it on audio book?  Do I do the dishes that so desperately need to be done?  Do I practice piano?  Do, dare I say it, study for class?  Now I need to make a decision, and I can feel myself falling towards the path of least resistance.  That is always what I take.  The path that allows me to do the least.  That is why I am where I am.  My ideas are such that, with a lot of  effort and some flashes of brilliance, I could be a successful writer by now.  I go maybe three or four days between writing down general story ideas.  I have the beginnings to a huge number of either novels or short stories.  But the endings are so rarely varied that I feel no compulsion to write them.

I imagine myself differently than I am.  I know that to be true.  I visualize myself as a decent human being with great capacity for thought and intelligence, while the reality is that I am a decent human being with a great capacity for creativity and an average capacity for thought and intelligence that never uses either.  That's not entirely true.  I am not a complete dunce, and I make good decisions, when one is obviously possible without much effort.  That's my problem, effort.  I need a live in assistant to get me up and writing and going to class.  I want to skip class tonight.  I wouldn't pay attention if I went, and then I would try to bullshit my way through.  And I would do fine, because I am a master bullshitter.  But I also want to just do my own thing.  I don't care about my education right now.  I can't get much out of the English field right now.  It's all postmodernism.  And postmodernism is bullshit.  Maybe that's why I was able to slide through classes for so long without studying.  But postmodernism, all of it, is useless. Contributing to the fall of our civilization.  Or something like that.

This web-log is masturbatory.  The word "I" has been overused in it.  But then again, I own it, so I get to use "I" as much as I want.  4 times in that last sentence.  There's something for you, numbers versus #s.  If you are using a number less than, what is it, twelve, you're supposed to type it out.  At 13 you use the number.  But I have a whole keypad for #s, so I am going to use #s as much as possible.  I hope you're understanding what I mean.

I don't play guitar.  I wish I did.  I need someone to teach me, just me, for an hour or so a day.  I could probably learn it relatively quickly. But then what?  I doubt I would use it. I have no illusions of being a rockstar, no real illusions.  I would love to stand in front of thousands of people and have them all worship me and what I created, but rock and roll just isn't something I'm cut out for.  Too many other people are involved in the creative process.

Lets find out this one, I'm not here to please you, but if I gave you 3 options on what you people wanted to hear my thoughts on tomorrow, what would it be?  Love, Post-Modernism, Physics.  Take your pick, and tomorrow, you'll see what you get.