Paralysis

This is not exactly the same as the other times I've burbled on about having nothing to say, because I do have things to say, here anyway, and in some mangled way am trying to say them. Look. Here I am. Saying.

And I've been trying not to go on about this sort of nonsense lately because, in the first place, it's nonsense, and in the second place it's all whiny and annoying and sounds like I'm fishing for reassurance or some shit like that, which I'm not, and even if I was it wouldn't do any good because I never believe anything positive anyone says so really it's just not even worth trying.

So it's not that. I think I've got to the stage where I understand that I can post any old drivel here, and regularly do. And that's fine. It's my site and I'll blather on ridiculously if I want to, and sometimes it'll be entertaining, and other times not. Just like life.

However, there are other situations where this kind of attitude doesn't apply, and right now I've got an assortment of those to contend with. And so, instead of doing anything constructive about any of them, I'm typing another crappy stream-of-consciousness blog entry about how I can't face doing so. That being probably the least useful or important option available to me right now. I hope you're duly flattered.

For instance, work. At the moment, many work things are in one or another kind of demoralizing limbo. What I might laughingly think of as my career, were I go-getting enough to think in those terms, is clearly in the doldrums. This is not a new development, but just now seems more oppressively the case than ever before. I may not actually be the most useless person alive -- I don't work in advertising, for a start, which is always something to hold on to, a light in dark places when all other lights go out -- but I'm certainly not doing anyone much good, including me. And I'm not doing anything to rectify the situation. Nor am I likely to.

There are things I could be preparing, learning, getting ready to do. There's stuff coming up that will need my knowledge and experience and whatever remains of my ability to engage with problems. But, in the face of the general hopelessness of it all, I can't be bothered. Instead, floundering. Ennui. Blogging.

And that's not all. Recreationally, I promised to write something for this. Promised myself, which isn't so much of a problem -- I'm used to letting myself down. But also, in a reckless IM moment, promised Kyle. Now, I'm sure he won't be bothered one way or another, but it's just another feed into my sense of shambling crapness.

There's no good reason why I shouldn't just write something and send it to Kyle, and if it's rubbish, well, who cares? It's only meant to be an idle amusement. And in fact I have a short comic strip worked out and about 2/3 scripted, which is probably no worse than anything else I've cheerfully posted up here for all to see, but looking at it I'm increasingly convinced I should just abandon not only the script but also my whole life and go and live in a cave somewhere.

Why? Because it's bad? I don't fucking know. It's just bunch of words on the screen. Yes, it's bad. But mostly, it's just that I don't care. As with the work things, I just can't see the point. There is no point.

For fuck's sake. I sound like some angst-ridden teen. Why should I get out of bed in the morning? What's the point in being alive? It's pathetic.

I thought I'd end on a more upbeat note, with this quote from Alan Moore:

But since I'm standing on a ledge about 2 inches up and still can't bring myself to step off, I'm not sure that actually amounts to anything positive after all.

Gah.
Posted by matt at January 27, 2004 04:54 PM