Preface: I normally don’t do this, because typically I take old writing and edit it prior to posting on this site. I read this back, and even though depressing (big surprise), it seemed to be a pretty accurate capture of the moment. I was drunk, and have a bizarre emotional connection with movies. I can’t believe people ever click on this site twice. Good for you.
6 Jack Daniels deep, flying from Hamburg to Newark, June 29th 2015…
The things that happen in this world break me. Every ill turn, every death, every lie and every injustice breaks my heart. Not a metaphor. It hurts, and I cannot make any damn sense of it.
How is it that other humans can’t see it? All this beauty and all these souls and all this love and heart and all people seem to do is to view themselves through the spectrum of their station in life. Lacking the ability to view yourself in another’s shoes.
I’d vote for Hillary and I’ll tell you why, because she’s a woman. Because men can’t have compassion for humanity in a way a woman can understand. She feels the heart beat and feeds life in a biological way. Man simply has less value on a human life than a woman. In a way we simply can’t understand.
Maybe I won’t vote for Hillary. $45 million to run a campaign. I’m tired of the disconnected pretending to connect, rich pretending to bend down. She’s just my reference that women have more value for life. My assumption that if women were in power the world would be a less murder happy place. Something biological and real telling them to not press the button to incinerate lives that men maybe lack? Really, in the wild…we typically fight, fuck and then leave. Maybe coming back in 6 months to try and eat our kid. Males…gross.
Even drunk on an airplane I can understand the fragility of life. (For the sake of disclosure, a sad scene at the beginning of the film “Chappie” brought this all on.) I hit turbulence too bad and I’m dead. One rogue suicide bird or bomber, the wrong gust of wind of wrong strike of lightning and I cease to exist on this world. No more valuable or invaluable than the two German teenagers sitting next to me, probably about to see NYC for the first time.
The more I think the less I know. Sometimes I feel this thing going to the ground and me passing on is the only true adventure left. This world brings pain and disappointment, love and always loss. I want to live inside of the good times, but knowing what’s coming doesn’t allow me to do this.
Of course all these thoughts come drunk on a plane watching Hugh Jackman with a mullet and terrible South African accent. But I don’t think it’s that silly anymore, my emotional connection to film and how real it feels. These ideas were created by people. They were turned into art by people. Meaning people thought of it, and are clearly capable and culpable in its actions.
I guess life is just gonna be harder for me than most people. I hate the type of people who write sentences like I just wrote. Paging Dr. Freud.