misery

misery hits me like a medicine ball in the belly. only briefly but when you get that miserable time, no matter how short it is, everything feels like pure unadulterated shit. there is nothing to be happy about. i know this is untrue. i know there is plenty to smile about. but you cannot argue with this misery. maybe it is a minor depression, fleeting and short-lived. but it takes its effect and even after it passes it leaves some bit of itself behind.





there is plenty of stuff to depress you if you look for it. the point, i suppose, is at least not to look for it... but perhaps the key is to stay above it. not to pretend to be happy when you're not but to know that most stuff gets blown out of proportion. we in the west generally just tend to feel a bit crap about ourselves, how we look, what job we have, how successful we are. we don't worry about whether we can eat, or give our kids clothes, most of us at least. so we find other things to be miserable about. cellulite or sagging bosoms. this sort of banality.








so much of this world depends on competition. being better and richer and more beautiful. you could say it's a competition to be happy. but that happiness is largely based on these things, for many people at least. we need to somehow learn that if we love ourselves and see our own innocence, then in turn we'll see that in others. but since so many of us can't stand ourselves, we project that onto others and make people treat us like dogmuck on their shoes. it's up to us individually to make things better for all of us.




before i get too self-righteous, which i hope i wasn't, i'll end today's sermon.

in the news...

bush admits the iraq invasion was based on false intelligence. it's hard to say bush and intelligence in the same sentence without laughing. anyway, because saddam was a bad guy things are much better. and he wasn't trying to develop weapons, but george says he would have. he was also working on a time machine, a portable sex-pest, an anabolic steroid that just made your head grow, a formula for making cheese that plays music, and an enormous radio controlled baby that puked fire across the baghdad sky to the sounds of cheesy music thereby creating a massive mess of fondue in the streets. bollocks, george. your dad liked him and so did all his cronies, see rumsfeld thumb wrestling with his chum in the picture. he just took his oily toys away one day. anyway... the world's supposed to be a better place now. i would think that's news to anyone of the thousands of people in iraq who've lost loved ones. or even to those from over here whose kids have been sent on this operation and never returned. some consolation that bush is now admitting it was bad information. i think we call it lies. and we hopefully don't blame others for it.