Ask me how I am doing today . . . go ahead, ask. I dare you.
Truth is that day “whichever the fuck” finds old Jack Butler a bit
“ated”. I realize that it has been days
since my last post, but my give- a-damn is busted and today I am not one to be
trifled with. So what has me so “ated”
you ask? Or maybe you are scratching
your head wondering what in the hell “ated” means. You aren’t likely to find an official
definition, even in Webster’s newest dictionary. Yes, to some degree it is a commonly used
suffix, but I personally use it to describe a state of being. Today I feel agitated, frustrated,
aggravated, irritated, exasperated, infuriated and yes, perhaps even a bit
constipated. With every moment that
passes, I find my condition exacerbated.
I am sure you are thinking to yourself that this is all being completely exaggerated. Before jumping to such a
conclusion, listen to what I have to say, if for no other reason than to see me
finally placated. I am sure my
explanation will soon find my feelings vindicated. So what is the reason I feel so “ated” . . .
well, it’s complicated. It is upon this
topic that this post will entirely be predicated. I suppose I feel a bit suffocated by the
confines of my home as the days begin to shorten and the weather begins to
turn. Being isolated from the world and
alienated from my peers by nature of a rather large language barrier isn’t
helping either. And perhaps to a lesser
degree, the inability to become satiated by a very limited diet is a contributing
factor. I just can’t seem to get motivated. For
that reason alone, I am going to leave this post somewhat truncated. Abbreviated though it may be, I still feel I
have a message to be communicated. The
problem is, I can’t find the proper words for it to be articulated. As is my usual way, I will use this forum to
cleanse my soul and once I have said my piece, I hope to be emancipated from
the confines of my current condition. I
have decided that the only way out of this funk is to find a way for my
creativity to be stimulated. I have decided
that the best approach is one that is somewhat bifurcated. So, here is the plan I have formulated . . .
“Ated” and Abetted
Today I will simply rest and allow myself the opportunity to
become fully recuperated. Tomorrow I
will wake early and mend those things in my life that I have let become
deteriorated. I will not simply swallow
my life, I will take my time to savor the flavor until every piece has been
masticated. I will go for a run or I
will go for a ride. It is in these
activities that I become truly liberated.
And on my way out the door, I will remember to duck my head so that I
don’t become decapitated or in some other way incapacitated. It will be in this way that I become
exonerated and from Dr. Jeckyl, Mr. Hyde will finally be amputated. Please do wish me the best of luck, for if by
nightfall my current mood isn’t obliterated, it could well see my glorious matrimony
woefully separated. And so, from this
point on, to a new life I will be truly dedicated. Another day like today will never be
imitated. Making the most of even the
darkest days when the good cannot so easily be delineated. And so my writing has done its job, for the
weight upon my shoulders has now been alleviated. So this post ends just as it
initiated, with little achieved but a great deal contemplated. I know that by now you are neither
entertained nor fascinated, but this is how my life these days can best be
illustrated. With a garden of thoughts
fully irrigated, I will post again soon, undeterred and seldom intimidated.
On a side note, if anyone can figure out a place to use the term
“masturbated” in a tasteful manner, I will give you all the editorial
credits. Until next time. R.
1 comments:
It's called "seasonal affective disorder" and I know it well. It's too god-damned dark to ride and when it's not too god-damned dark to ride, it's too god-damned windy to ride. The yard is completely full of leaves and hedge apples and I'm too god-damned depressed to give a shit. My cure for the day was a one-day painting which actually turned out rather well because I didn't give a shit. I've apparently discovered my impressionistic soul. Anyway, fuck it!
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