Dear Diary

Satirical self-reflection

Dear diary,

Old Henry once quipped: "The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation." And it's true enough, but what he left out is the inane murmurings of these people who swing between being bored to death of their lives and being mildly titillated by modern infotainment and Bejeweled. If you're lucky enough to be unfamiliar with Bejeweled, I'll tell you it's a multi-million dollar string of computer code those quietly desperate people play with in a feeble attempt to suppress, perhaps, some feelings about very depression contemporary circumstances like the statistic for veterans blowing their heads off every so many seconds, or past due car payments, or worthless lottery tickets they bought and so on.

What a world!

It's enough to drive a man insane, but sanity isn't really useful anymore when you can sanitize any disturbing thoughts with a bottle of booze as cheap as about tree fiddy. There's a reason why liquor stores aren't hard to find, and it's almost just as easy to sign up to get your a*s shot off in the desert while so called "defense" corporations make a killing, as the expression goes. But at least you can go into that particular business well before the age of 21. Have to make a living somehow, I guess - how else can you afford the booze? In any case, there's a 50/50 chance to have a better future that way than to pony up and purchase a worthless college degree that might have been valuable sometime before with a pile of funny money you have to borrow from the government or Citigroup or whomever. After a while you realize the tragedy writes itself, but what the heck? Sometimes it's fun to write it yourself, just for s***s and giggles. If the musicians on the Titanic can fiddle out a lively tune on a sinking ship in the middle of the Atlantic, who is anyone to tell me my innocent scribbles are against the rules?

An authoritarian government, that's who!

I figure the way things are going I might as well lampoon the present affairs of the circus while I can. There's already a billionaire lunatic with a seriously oversized ego, small hands, and access to the nuclear codes in the White House. It's a bad joke, but I'm laughing anyway so that they might remember me as an optimist someday. It's not all bad, though - bacon was on sale today at the grocery store. Maybe America is already great again. The fat cats on Wall Street seem to be doing alright ever since the bailouts and all. I was worried!

2017 is shaping up to be a ball, that's for sure. Though I think I might skip the after party even if everyone is still around after the fat lady sings. I just hope they don't go too overboard with the fireworks, either way. It would look terrible for the good ol' US of A to write a bad check for all those shiny new death machines on account of unnecessary extravagance. Let's hope all those indentured students pay their loans on time with their fat checks from McDonalds or Starbucks or whatever!

I wrote a poem the other day, by the way:

If You Want To Help

Stick a needle in my eye,

Draw the plunger, slowly, out,

Watch the fluid fill the cylinder like dye,

And when it's over throw it hard against the wall.

Stain the white-washed room with what I've seen,

Paint a panoramic picture with my dreams

So I can satisfy the measure of my blindness

With the treasure of my peace -

A perfect pleasure only possible

When lost in what that nothingness entreats...

That's all for today!

Reviews

[Unspoken poet]

I really enjoyed this write, I could read the emotions in this. enjoyed