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re: something "hopeful" 
  ctrlaltdiscreet
 
04:03am 17/08/2004
  yo,

i read your last letter and it reminded me of elementary school. it made me think of those "family life education" classes where they talk to you about puberty. they say by nature, teenagers are rebellious and see things differently, like they're overly dramatic and think the most sprat matters in life are suddenly significant. funny, how five years into this whole "teen" thing, i realize how right they were.

that's the thing about getting older i suppose, and ironic, how you don't know how good the advice older people give you really is. i mean, you know they've been there, but they haven't been through what you're going through. they don't see the world through your eyes, so how can their life experiences help shape yours right?

i guess some lessons you'll never learn vicariously. the truth does hurt and you won't know that until you yourself get burned. people try to protect us from the pain they've experienced but really it's a necessary evil. i think that our ability to hurt is directly correlated with our ability to grow. pain is inevitable, sadness is inevitable, and like all obstacles in life, it's how you deal with it that counts.

like you said, some of us try to find escapes from the mundane, whether through drugs, alcohol, or other people. we try to substitute temporary pleasure to mask embedded pain. ...and that thing you said about happiness being a state devoid of anger and grief, well, maybe it's not so much being devoid of either as much as it is having worked through it. i mean sure, when you're drunk or stoned it's easier to ignore depression and misery, but it's still there. like a sore tooth on novacaine, the pain will come back if you don't deal with it straight out.

i'm happy you've got your goggles off. i hope that action and this letter help you see things more clearly.

learning how to deal myself,
jay.


-----Original Message-----
From: monica@aol.com
Sent: Friday, August 14, 2004 12:11 AM
To: sneakerpimp06@gmail.com
Subject: RE: something "wrong"
 
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re: something "cynical" 
  mahbu
 
12:11am 14/08/2004
  Hey Jay,

Long time no write, sorry about that. Life’s been hectic. No, I lie. If anything it’s been mundane and uneventful, and it’s this vague and inane lifestyle that has me desperately grasping at straws and sparks in an effort to provide myself definition.

That sounds so cliche, doesn’t it, Jay? "Angst-ridden teenager without sense of purpose sets out to find meaning in life, finds it through ever-lucid beer goggles of delinquency." It’s kinda like you were writing about earlier, about romanticizing something wrong, and that struck me in particular.

The truth is that I haven’t been writing because between work and family issues, I’ve been a little too jaded to talk to anybody. It’s a little ironic that in times of need people choose to do the polar opposite of what would probably benefit them the most. But I just got back from running a million family errands, picking up everyone from work, and cooking dinner - all this dispersed with intermittent bouts of screaming and chastising from the familial end (something on the topic of how I’m worthless and a burden on the family.) Nights like these, or every night, shall I say, I find myself locked in my bedroom with fists clenched and eyes fixed to the ceiling, raised in vision of life beyond home and sadness.

It’s not even so much sadness that I’m writing about, but rather the static gray of this day to day affair that I call my summer. I hate sadness, but I hate vulnerability even more for the fact that it’s what causes sadness and pain. Deadened senses protect against vulnerability and I suppose that’s why I haven’t been talking to anyone. If you ignore the bad things in life then they can’t get to you as much. I guess the good things really can’t get to you as much, either. This is where my beer goggles come in, hand in hand with the weed goggles, the coke goggles, the sex goggles, and all the others from my comprehensive collection of self-destructive and hedonistic dildos. I’ve forgotten so thoroughly what complete contentment is like that I’ve associated in its stead momentary thrills and rushes of adrenaline that get me off reliably, but like masturbation it’s a little less fun each time. I wish I could romanticize this like you somehow managed to beautify the concept of inhaling carcinogens and instigating the slow but surefire path to lung cancer, but I can’t. My excuse is that getting caught up in the moment helps you forget everything else, and that temporary loss of a sense of reality means a temporary loss of a sense of troubles. Isn’t that what happiness is, anyway? The state of being devoid of anger and grief?

You’re gonna have to forgive this letter, Jay, for being a little depressed and melodramatic. It’s just that sometimes I realize that I have no idea what I’m doing, and this re-incurring realization never fails to remind me how painstakingly lonely life can be, and sometimes you just gotta reach out...

Goggles off,

Monica.



-----Original Message-----
From: sneakerpimp06@gmail.com
Sent: Wednesday, August 8, 2004 1:44 AM
To: monica@aol.com
Subject: RE: something "wrong"
 
     Read 5 - Post
 
re: something "wrong" 
  ctrlaltdiscreet
 
01:44am 04/08/2004
  send to: monica@aol.com
from: sneakerpimp06@gmail.com


hey,

every now and then i do some things people might consider "bad." one of them is smoking. there's just a religious or sacred aspect of it that keeps me coming back. granted, i also like the buzz i get after you finish a cig, but that's not really my point. i hate the smell when it gets old, and i'm not a fan of the whole "debilitating my body" thing, but sometimes, driving home from work or a friend's house, soaring down a two-lane road in the rain while streetlights hover above like tangible stars. the perfect song (like death cab for cutie's "photobooth") with a cig in hand can make you feel immensely serene. maybe it's the comfort of closed car windows, sealing me off from the world in a sense, but i know i'm alone, and even if there's other cars surrounding me, no one can invade this space i'm in. it's like we're planets revolving around each other, stuck in our own personal orbits... consciously aware of each other's existence, but never colliding (hopefully).

i spend a lot of moments alone... and being single, it's expected i guess. but it doesn't really suck. it gives me time to think, time to write, and time to be. i like to think if i romanticize the act of smoking than it becomes somewhat less wrong, but i know it doesn't, and the social stigma will probably never be lifted. but you know what? fuck it, it's my life and i do what i want. seeing the charred stick burn and fade away reminds me of my own mortality. perhaps we're all cigarettes, and each day parts of us dissipate into the wind.

what i'm saying is with every smoke-filled breath i take, the fact that we're all slowly dying becomes all the more evident. what does that make me want to do with my life? what have i done so far? it makes me want to make something of myself before my own flame burns out. and the way i figure, if something inspires me to be my best before i get snubbed out, maybe it's not so "bad" after all.

'til fingers meet keyboard,
jay.

p.s. you could change your e-mail to something like "aznbootyprincess" or "insomaniac" or something. i was just kidding about the first one. i don't know what i'm talking about, really.

-----Original Message-----
From: sneakerpimp06@gmail.com
Sent: Tuesday July 27, 2004 4:51pm
To: monica@aol.com
Subject: RE: something
 
     Post
 
re: something lonely 
  mahbu
 
04:51pm 27/07/2004
  Hey Jay,

How’ve you been? Nah you didn’t say anything that offended me, it’s cool. It’s early morning and the chronic sleep deprivation that I suffer from has turned gravity against me such that life drags down at every inch of skin, bone, and starched office clothing, pulling my head towards what looks increasingly to be a fluffy down pillow, but is actually, I think, my sleep-drool drowned keyboard.

Damn I need sleep.

But you know, I think I need people too. And I guess I can hear you saying “yeah well you’re a girl” but I’m not sure that’s really relevant. I can relate to what you just said, that you’d like to think that you’re strong enough to make it on your own. I used to be like that too. But anyway I don’t think that being a guy makes it more difficult to admit loneliness… I think that entering into any kind of courting, flirting, banging, relationship hullabahoo etc. pretty much signifies a mutual desire for companionship from both ends.

I’m also not too sure about the convincing presence of religion in people’s lives. Maybe for zealots, but those are so few and far between, and everybody else is a wannabe who needs some kind of self-defining purpose or hope of redemption to their lives that they self-proclaim themselves glorious martyrs, foregoing the ways of normal people as they brandish their flaming sword of self-righteousness. In the end it proves them all the more foolish because their human errors, whether they be succumbing to temptation or relying on higher powers to intervene where common sense would normally have prevailed, are made all the more glaringly apparent through contrast.

So pretty much everyone’s lonely.

If you think about it really, the need to dissipate feelings of loneliness is the driving factor behind every single social interaction. Even writing. I don’t think people really think of writing as a social activity because it’s kinda the unrequited love child of a person and an inanimate medium, but I think that’s what makes it so powerful. An author puts forth his or her thoughts, dreams, goals, imaginations, or what have you, in their purest form without being modified through the interruption that normal conversation would inevitably provide. And that author publishes those words with the hopes that someone, or someones, will read that and relate, and ultimately relate with the author himself, and it’s the knowledge that this might happen that makes the author feel a little more understood and a little less alone. I guess that’s why you wrote to me. And to be honest, since pretty much everyone’s lonely, and I am too, that’s probably why I responded.

Anyhow, it’s time for me to navigate the terrors of rush hour. Wish me luck! And hope to hear from you soon,
-Monica

P.S. my email address sucks. Help me think of a better one.


-----Original Message-----
From: sneakerpimp06@gmail.com
Sent: Monday, July 26, 2004 2:19 AM
To: monica@aol.com
Subject: RE: something
 
     Post
 
something 
  ctrlaltdiscreet
 
02:19am 26/07/2004
  send to: monica@aol.com
from: sneakerpimp06@gmail.com


hey dude. i'm not sure if you've reached your destination yet, but i got delayed again... it's pretty late and ennui has gotten me to bust out with the laptop. i'm writing you this from my hotel room. it's really muggy and hot, so i left the windows open, my ipod is charging (i must have exhausted its battery on the plane). tonight, i suppose the sporadic sounds of traffic will have to serve as a makeshift lullaby. i guess first off i just wanted to say it was cool meeting you on the plane and all, i get really talkative when i'm nervous, so to you it must have seemed like i never shut up. i hope i didn't open up too much or say anything that horribly offended you.

i'm not sure how you'll take this, but for some reason i think you're very comfortable to talk to. know what i mean? i'm not trying to hit on you or anything, i'm just in a slump you know? like some sort of funk or a spell. like gwyneth paltrow in "the royal tenenbaums." right now i just feel like i need someone who can tolerate my bitching.

wow. "needing someone." that's sounds something a girl would say isn't it? i like to think you never really need anyone, it's all want, and maybe we fool ourselves into thinking our attachment to certain people is so strong we literally couldn't live or function without frequent physical contact from them.

i really don't know why i'm feeling this way. i mean, life is great, nothing's really been bothering me, it's just i know that if i try to sleep now, i'll do nothing but stare at the ceiling trying to compose these very same words on some typewriter i'll dream up in my head.

i'm doing a lot of traveling back and forth recently... and it's given me this feeling in my gut that ultimately, i will always be alone. it's kind of disappointing, but i like to consider myself a strong person. then again, it could be pride talking. guys... we guys have this thing where we feel burdened to not let our feelings show or anything, so we hide behind shelters of small talk and really don't say much about what's on our minds. i'm just wondering how strong a man has to be to admit that he feels lonely. how much courage do you think a guy has to muster up to say "i can't do this alone."

maybe that's why religion is so prevalent. my parents are zealots. i think that if you believe you are never alone, you might be stronger... but what if even though you didn't believe that, yet found the confidence to believe you're that strong anyway? i don't know if that made much sense... but i guess my point is that sometimes it seems like religion can be a crutch for people who aren't independently-minded enough to believe in their own self-worth.

anyway, it's getting late, and my eyes are starting to get heavy. in the distance, i hear cars honk and the screeching of tires. i close my eyes imagine what's going on floors below and see myself stepping on the pavement barefoot. i can practically feel and hear the crunch of broken glass underneath the soles of my feet. there was always something therapeutic i found in walking around cities. i open them again and stare at my still-made bed. pillows have never looked more appealing than they do now.

'til next time...
 
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