Random Bits and Pieces Written By Medicine
by Noise Pollution
I am quite sick today.
But I haven’t posted anything in a little while, so I thought I’d try to piece some words together through the haze of medicine and nausea I feel at the moment.
The bookstore I work at now has a small section in the self-improvement area specifically for “twenty-somethings”. I’m flattered that I’m considered to be part of an important demographic, now. I love being marketed to.
I have been ridiculously on edge lately. I think it might be the medication changes. I have, however, been much more talkative and less depressed, so there is that. I have to decide if being constantly moderately-freaked-out all the time is worth going through, though. I really don’t know at this point.
I’ve been wasting an obscene amount of time watching Youtube videos lately. Just thought that was worth mentioning. I don’t know why. Did I mention that I’m sick?
I am currently attracted to exactly zero people right now. It’s kind of depressing.
I finished reading my book on 70’s punk rock. I may have mentioned that somewhere already. Either way, it is worth mentioning that people are total shitbags, both the musicians and the people who tried to attach themselves at the hip to them. Seriously, the number of people who made it into that book by doing nothing but fucking as many famous people as they possibly could is astounding. And there’s no shame there, either, no regret towards any of the people they dumped or cheated on in order to make that number higher. Not that I’m in the business of like, slut-shaming anyone, but if you’re hurting people, you fucking suck, period. You can fuck as many people as you want and I won’t judge you as long as you behave like a goddamn adult about it and not some terrible child who gets emotionally attached to every single one of them while simultaneously fucking as many people as possible while telling every single bedmate that they’re the only one for you. Holy fuck, I have no idea what I’m even typing right now. My head is really cloudy. I wonder if any of that made sense. I wonder If I sounded like a total dick. I probably did.
And it’s not like the musicians themselves were any better. They plowed through genitalia at inhuman rates, not giving a fuck about any of it once they were through with it. Short of maybe one or two people in the book, everyone was being as nightmarishly terrible as they possibly could in regards to relationships.
Though I have to acknowledge that the book obviously had it’s own agenda: selling copies of itself. So it would be in their best interest to make everything seem as fucked-up as possible in order to be more interesting in order sell more copies. So I should take all of that with a grain of salt. But I’m not. I’m just upset.
Aaaaaand that’s about all that my sick, medicine-clouded head can spew out today. I’m not even proofreading this, because reading is hard right now. There don’t seem to be any red squiggly lines under anything, so I should be at least mostly good.