knowing is half the battle
i say my depression was finally self-diagnosed, in definitive fashion, by me and myself last night as i observed the i-man lounging in bed between the hours of 6:30 and 8:30 in the pm. total navel-gaze freakout facilitated by the fact that i could not think of anything i wanted to do besides lie in bed and sulk and try to sleep. nothing sounded better. that was the only thing that sounder better, i swear: nothing. i felt/feel like nothing, might as well act accordingly. i don't get depressed often but when i do it's, it's there. it's something. sometimes better than those times when i'm flirting with depression, water-skiiing the lake, never dipping in and really joining the (pity) party. still getting drippy wet, though. love those mixed metaphors.
but i carried on, floated on as the floaters (detroit) might sing (not modest mouse, those guys were old-steezy in '99 - the floaters NEVER outstayed their welcome). went back to trash, the place that inexplicably depressed me on saturday with its T.G.I. McRock-n-Roll decor. six anti-bush buttons for a dollar = 18 points of flair for the price of a can of PBR. inexplicable sadness because the place is SUPREMELY FUCKING LOGICAL. everyone in brooklyn has to go to shitty places in manhattan like the luna lounge, the mercury lounge, and sin-e just to see their friends' bands play, so why not keep the action in the borough? and "maybe you should put a miss pacman up in there, get some money back there" as ghostface said (approx.).
yes, i went back for more last night, reminded of the place's logicality and that my own emotional response to the place was trash in itself. drew was there seeing his large-breasted ex-girlfriend play a set, so why wouldn't i hang out in the bar area with all of them and play some buck hunter 2? so i went, i had some fun. talked with the LB ExGF of drew about bugs for quite some time. centipedes, bedbugs, german roaches, um, the other kind too. i haven't seen drew forevs. he reminded me of this. i feel shitty every time i talk to him, like he's a slightly better version of me who's able to have a different hot girlfriend once a year. seriously, we're both smart, both good cooks, good-natured, funny, left-handed... he's just moreso. but still, the man is good so i left feeling rather good myself. his ex-gf's (or soon-to-be ex-gf's) are all great and super and they make me laugh too. fun fun, and i was good and kept it to two PBRs.
so why did i fall back into despair? i get home, my new roommate has a dude over. it's like, ok, i still haven't brought someone home to that place. so fuck you first of all (hate hate hate!), and secondly, your giggly bff was here for the first four nights of you living here, so does that mean i got myself two roommates for the price of one? are you incapable of sleeping alone? why not find some guys whose bedrooms are bigger than yours? - that still leaves 95% of new york, so it's not too much to ask. you're cute enough to not have to bring home long-haired greasy dudes with dirty black bookbags that they leave on my once-clean kitch table. (see, room is too small to hold backpack! you need improve away game.)
i was so sad. but why? the only time i saw dude and roommate last night was (1) on the way home as they were leaving and (2) on the way out as they were returning. so my problem is my own.
i even sniffed at dude's jean jacket (dirrrty) that he left on my chair (everything is MINES). fucker had an iggy and the stooges pin. bitch i've lived in three places in this life: city of detroit city, ann arbor ville, and brooklyn town. so if anyone has the right to rep iggy via a levi's jean jacket (I HAVE THE EXACT SAME ONE BUT CLEANER AND SMALLER, ARGGH), it's me.
then i realized what a loser i was for caring. and that, in essence, is where we are today, children.
put the L back up on my forehead, mine faded
but i carried on, floated on as the floaters (detroit) might sing (not modest mouse, those guys were old-steezy in '99 - the floaters NEVER outstayed their welcome). went back to trash, the place that inexplicably depressed me on saturday with its T.G.I. McRock-n-Roll decor. six anti-bush buttons for a dollar = 18 points of flair for the price of a can of PBR. inexplicable sadness because the place is SUPREMELY FUCKING LOGICAL. everyone in brooklyn has to go to shitty places in manhattan like the luna lounge, the mercury lounge, and sin-e just to see their friends' bands play, so why not keep the action in the borough? and "maybe you should put a miss pacman up in there, get some money back there" as ghostface said (approx.).
yes, i went back for more last night, reminded of the place's logicality and that my own emotional response to the place was trash in itself. drew was there seeing his large-breasted ex-girlfriend play a set, so why wouldn't i hang out in the bar area with all of them and play some buck hunter 2? so i went, i had some fun. talked with the LB ExGF of drew about bugs for quite some time. centipedes, bedbugs, german roaches, um, the other kind too. i haven't seen drew forevs. he reminded me of this. i feel shitty every time i talk to him, like he's a slightly better version of me who's able to have a different hot girlfriend once a year. seriously, we're both smart, both good cooks, good-natured, funny, left-handed... he's just moreso. but still, the man is good so i left feeling rather good myself. his ex-gf's (or soon-to-be ex-gf's) are all great and super and they make me laugh too. fun fun, and i was good and kept it to two PBRs.
so why did i fall back into despair? i get home, my new roommate has a dude over. it's like, ok, i still haven't brought someone home to that place. so fuck you first of all (hate hate hate!), and secondly, your giggly bff was here for the first four nights of you living here, so does that mean i got myself two roommates for the price of one? are you incapable of sleeping alone? why not find some guys whose bedrooms are bigger than yours? - that still leaves 95% of new york, so it's not too much to ask. you're cute enough to not have to bring home long-haired greasy dudes with dirty black bookbags that they leave on my once-clean kitch table. (see, room is too small to hold backpack! you need improve away game.)
i was so sad. but why? the only time i saw dude and roommate last night was (1) on the way home as they were leaving and (2) on the way out as they were returning. so my problem is my own.
i even sniffed at dude's jean jacket (dirrrty) that he left on my chair (everything is MINES). fucker had an iggy and the stooges pin. bitch i've lived in three places in this life: city of detroit city, ann arbor ville, and brooklyn town. so if anyone has the right to rep iggy via a levi's jean jacket (I HAVE THE EXACT SAME ONE BUT CLEANER AND SMALLER, ARGGH), it's me.
then i realized what a loser i was for caring. and that, in essence, is where we are today, children.
put the L back up on my forehead, mine faded
2 Comments:
i have been in love with humble rodent only since '98 and they still ROCK! (big, crazy, indignant gestures)
That being said, dug the post. Carry-on. (dignity completely recovered)
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