Of the Throng

I just spent an hour writing a post about my day "among the throng" with my mother.  There are some very good parts, but overall, I come off as a prick.  I may be, but I don't want to present that way, at least overtly.  I almost posted it, but I changed my mind at the last minute.  So now, a hasty post to meet today's deadline. 

But the world is ugly and meaningless, that is clear, and all that stands between us and the void are the illusions we create.  Stories.  Music.  Art.  Architecture.  Design.  

Everything else is shit.  Without it. . . you are among "the brutes."

My descriptions of them are delightfully derogatory in the unpublished post, but self-aware, too.  I mean, it is only like looking into the carnival mirror.  

"Gooble gobble, gooble gobble. . . one of us. . . one of us."  

It was a stupid idea, really.  The whole thing is too big for a blog post.  A dissertation, maybe. . . . 

After my day out dining and shopping with ma, I stopped and got a six pack of Bud Light.  I thought that maybe I could just drink that and cut down on the whiskey.  I had put some in the freezer.  They are almost palatable ice cold, but you need to drink them quickly before they begin to warm.  I tried.  The only good thing to come out of it was the phone pic.  

I am unravelling.  Some days life is just too much with us.