Three Choices When the Internets Let You Down
There’s nothing good on the Internets today, which in turn creates a small bubble of doubt into which all manner of self-conscious fear will pour until the small bubble becomes a large jagged pit of dour thought. And all because there is nothing good on the Internets today.
There are three remedies to the situation - to avoiding a pity party - that feeling, no, not a feeling - more a knowing, that rock gut certainty of your suckiness. So, three remedies.
You get drunk. Has it’s own debilitations and risks, primary among them an amplification of your current speckled mire. But you can always get drunk. I approve heartily of this panacea. Perhaps not a rousing Hemmingway inebriation, but a slow gentle boil of brew consumption is a ticket to justifiable amnesia.
You can create something. Be it a poem, a Lego structure of some note, anything really. What you create isn’t so important as engaging a process of creativity. You’re looking in a vapid void. It’s you. You’re vapid. You’re devoid of anything pleasurable - no rounded corners - no fuzzy wool - you’re a limp cock on the periphery of a particularly engaging orgy. Two options here You accept that it is there and let it be as it will, or you put something in the space. Or you can create something.
And lastly, you can wallow. Fuck it, suck it, bend it over and slap it a few times. Play with it. Get dirty. Be wrong. Be debase. You suck. So suck it. Up to the shaft. Wallow in it. This remedy hurts. But it’s a way through.
Nothing good on the Internets today. Increases the likelihood I become more self-aware. I notice that I noticed the Internets are a barren dune. And don’t I look silly sitting as I am, half a human, scrunched up, lurking over a small screen, desperate for a tiddy treat of what I’ll call good. The Internets abhor a witnessing presence.
I go get drunk now. Really I do.
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