Thursday, November 3, 2011

“Ated” and Abetted

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 . . .


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:

Jim said...

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!