The peculiar state of mind I reach when I write blog posts resembles a rat who has exhausted all other possibilities within the maze he is trapped inside of. In this case it is a rather morbid state of mind. I am the rat, and I have only one channel left.
I wonder if the upcoming hurricane has anything to do with my having reached such a condition. Now given that I live outside Philadelphia it’s likely that nothing too exciting will occur – some power lines down, at most some random wreckage perhaps causing moderate inconvenience.
But I secretly wish it were more threatening than that. Here’s the morbidity creeping in. In our culture we’re supposed to frown upon death, destruction and suffering. Or, at least, we will be frowned upon ourselves if, instead of being frightened, we anticipate some form of liberation.
I’m not sure there’s any appropriate place for complaining about boredom and the generalized suffering which is my life. I don’t know what value there is in complaining – but I do seem to be complaining.
I have often felt relief after having channeled something into a blog post. I think that for one thing I enjoy the power of thinking I’m a good writer. I probably undervalue the actual effect the writing has on others. I should also mention that I often feel that my efforts have produced original material, and that I’m not sure what other purpose there is to writing – does it reflect an unnecessarily dark view of the world if I look down upon anything I don’t consider original?
This aspect of myself which wishes to experience destruction – one thing I’ve learned from experience is that people frown upon those who openly express the desire to see such destruction.
What distinguishes me, allowing me to say this, is that I have no “loved ones” anymore about whose safety I might be concerned. Thus I watch and somehow wish to witness all the death and suffering a storm might cause. Perhaps this is the natural state of human beings, the only thing which distracts them is the fact that many of them have “loved ones.”
I just asked myself a question to which I don’t know the answer. Am I anyone else’s “loved one?” I certainly wish I were! Admittedly I’m not sure exactly what that means. The phrase I’m talking about is the commonly used, “friends, family, loved ones.”
As I said, I don’t know the answer. In past I believe I have varied in my opinion of the answer. Sometimes I believe I am.
I distracted myself from the morbidity of this blog entry by researching and listening to Bob Dylan’s song Jokerman, printing out the lyrics, editing the blog post for clarity, and now I’m tired, depressed, publish it even though I’m just a rat – a joker rat – you know what he wants – you don’t show any response.
Streets Have No Name 