Masters Of War

I haven't posted since August. Right.

Since then some things have happened. First off, yet not really correlating chronologically, I got a record player. Paradise Theatre 1 USD. I have like 20 some records now, and I am really getting into listening to them.

Life is such a roller coaster of confusion and excitement. A parabolic joy ride of mass proportions. At moments you are filled with sickness, euphoria, dread or a combination of the three. Lately, I don't know what state I've been in. I achieved some sort of milestone recently by dating someone longer than a month... Surprising. I usually rediscover the flaw in myself, my self-antipathy.

Why do I hate myself, and so privately at that? I guess maybe it's obvious to other people, or maybe not. I've developed some more complexity in my "intrasphere" of emotions. Even in my actions toward other, I feel like I have changed. I suppose we're just all art, only truly understood by the artist. It's true on several levels. I can interpret you, but it's only my interpretation, and I think that's my problem sometimes, I don't fall in love with the art, but rather I fall in love with my interpretation of it.

This time I think I've fallen for the art. I love her so.

That's the mystery of human suffering. You talk and talk about something that makes you suffer, unrequited love and the like. When you finally feel something good, you don't talk about it, you just have a smile that speaks voluminous statements of contentment and radiating happiness.

I think this is good for now, until I feel more outgoing.

Chuckman.