I went to Austin and I all got was a hangover...

It was always going to happen this way.  Loss of inspiration and ideas to write, flying out of my head like ants running from boiling water. And there was nothing I could do to stop them. So now all I can do is disappoint as I stumble through an awkward entry that will do nothing to inform. Dumped onto an endless platform the nonsense remains until at last someone switches off the power.

Just as Billy Pilgrim did, I too have become unstuck in time. The present is all to familiar, the future a pessimistic fear. And the past? Well that all of a sudden feels greener. But that last part is untrue; it’s because of the glasses I’m wearing. The past can pretend but I know it wasn’t all that, otherwise, how would I have got to here? Now. I guess I was looking for another way. An opportunity to escape the banality of life, the pathetic nature some people seem to predictably possess. But half way around the world it’s all just the same. Ignorant to assume otherwise. Same problems, complaints, lusts. A different disguise perhaps but still evidently handled in that proverbial depressing way. You can hide from the truth beneath your borrowed blanket but in reality people are still dying, whether it’s their fault or not. And who is to blame? Us, of course. We’re all lost even when we’re home. So what is the point of a home at all? A superficial place made up of forgotten dreams hoarded into rusting boxes, unopened for years. If we were someone we’re not anymore. Children are the future but the future will never change. For anyone. There is no escape. Bateman was right. This is not an exit.

I came down here to breath. To watch the ripples on the lake and take in the already hot morning air. But not far away a guy is vomiting into a bush. He doesn’t care. Doesn’t care what a mess he was last night. What a mess he still is. He was having a good time right? Living the dream? But I was the one who was watching. Watching all those fools getting drunk on rot, chatting rubbish while thinking they were setting the world on fire. An embarrassment to youth and yet they’d tell me otherwise. Spluttering like pigs at a trough they splurge ‘Amy just have a drink it’s better that way.’ Well I’ve seen the way and it isn’t all that. Now put your shirt on and lets leave this empty bar. You can’t even stand and you expect me to be jealous? Truth is. Maybe I am.

People say they think more clearly when they’re on some high. But I disagree. I haven’t a substance in my body and yet I am thinking straighter than ever before. The sunlight burns at my arms as I strain to breath. I want out. I need to get off. There is no difference to make, I can only witness the torment but to no effect. When I close my eyes somewhere, someone is still crying. I can hear their sobs born from wine and liquor. Telling their story that makes no sense . Get your head out the bottle and at least hope there’s more. There isn’t but it was worth a try anyway.

The night descends into the toilet. I go for a swim but I can’t get rid of the dirt. I don’t understand what I’m supposed to do. They say the meaning of life is 42 but my numbers don’t add up. I’m three out and breaking because of it. Tell them what you know. Tell them and make them stop crying. I’m begging, down on my knees. Give them an answer. 

Silence. The world is deaf. We stuck plugs in our ears at first. We didn’t want to hear. But now we’re numb and nothing’s left to wake us, we scream for a new kind of almighty fix. But it’s too late. The plugs have degraded and poisoned leaving nothing but retarded scars. Without a sound we stumble though the grey. A rich man bought our last chance from a beggar for $1 million bucks. Locked it away and says he’s lost the key. You gave him all you had to help him find it. His face shows he never really tried as he tells you it was to no avail.

So where will you go? You’d crawl right back in the womb if you could. Not because you want to start again but because you hope you never have to start at all. It’s too hard and you’re to weak. Living is for fools and billionaires. The rest of us don’t stand a chance. So go ahead and drink up. We’ll sit and smoke a little longer. What’s the point in being depressed? We were damned before we were born. You won’t remember in the morning anyway. I’ll tell you all we had so much fun, that we laughed and drank and danced and sang. That you made a great joke, the best of the night. And it went like this...

31/10/11