Wednesday, December 17, 2014
Welcome to the best day of my life fragmentation, the blog I write when I want to shatter the myth of the lost art of perfection recognition. And by ‘lost’ I of course mean – never existed. And by ‘perfect’ I of course mean – an imagination. And by ‘shatter’ I of course mean – destroy any signs of shape, color, form, and other forms of boundaries.
Today was the best day of my life – and I will tell you why? Because it wasn’t the best day of my life, at least as would be measured on any normal chart of acceptance or display.
I feel like using words today. Different words, unique words, words that don’t normally go together like say for example ‘goat javelin’.
Wait, goat javelin would be an awesome sport, way better than regular javelin. Unless this sport consisted of throwing javelins at goats. Or involved throwing goats like they were javelins. Or involved goats in anyway. Or throwing things. At least if those things didn’t involve a ball, a team, teamwork, rules, good sportsmanship, athletic ability and an absence of goats.
Ok, so I had a weird day. I gave into some fears and anxiety, at least in small bursts. And in the frustration of allowing myself this folly of failure, I find myself emerging back into the more mentally positive ether of the late evening with a new desire for individuality, expression and distinctiveness. Hence tonight’s blog. Involved evolution of involuntary personification, if you will.
And now for something more inspirational, or profound, or at least involving some semblance of a coherent point:
My life is not perfect – I mean it can’t be because above, with the mere act of statement, I proved without a shadow of a doubt that perfection is a mere figment of the imagination. My life is far from fulfilling even the most illuminated possibility of this imagined utopia. But since starting this project I have been forced, nay privileged, to end the day not with beating myself up, but rather with a task to find the nuggets of good hidden within the KFC mixed bucket of chicken variety. Today I find a delicious nugget deeper within the bucket than I hoped, but found it I did, and this blog is the dipping of this nugget into the delicious dipping sauce. As long as no part of this nugget was made of goat, then I am headed for bed a happy. Man.
And yeah man, I meant it, that full stop/ period there was far from a fucking accident, man. I am a happy. Why would I ever want to be a ‘man’? Shudder, the horror, don’t they like have responsibilities and shit? I don’t want any part of responsibilities; I don’t even want to look at a crude mock up of them on a normal chart of acceptance or display! Man.