Monday, January 21, 2008

To All the Suicides (on Blue Monday)

I awoke this morning with methods of suicide dancing in my brain. Initially I was concerned for the health of my psyche, but then it dawned on me: Ah, of course, it is Blue Monday--the most depressing day of the year as indicated by the number of suicides (though I'm sure a few blessed souls killed themselves out of sheer joy). I pranced downstairs wondering "razorblades or pills?" but just then I was struck by a wind of ennui that made me languish in utter suicidal impotence. I spent the day rubbing myself against the bearskin rug while watching "The View" and "Oprah."

I do not feel good about myself. I am quite used to filthiness, but not the smiling, self-help kind. It was not like a drug I could just puke out into the mirroring water of my toilet--indeed, I want to watch more episodes tomorrow...

(Perhaps I am the vomit and the television is the toilet in which I twirl. Or perhaps I am just a failed poet looking for connections in a disconnected world...)

(I want to smash Clay Aiken's skull with a bone, but yet I want to see his performance, too. These are sick, perverted times. And yet not sick and perverted in a good way--what ever happened to simple animal-evil? Now we have this vacuous evil that society sees as a virtue, necessary for success).

I am full of digressions because I am lacking in proper thought. There is a death-chill in the air. I am dying for a walk in the woods culminating with a primal scream atop a lookout point. But nature has trapped me inside and I do not even have a gas oven in which to stick my head.

I am full of hot air with no room to expand.

It is a failure of a Blue Monday... Suicides: you are more motivated than I.


Requiescat in pace.

3 comments:

Nigel Tewksbury said...

Oh my Aiken head!

mariusandrejevas said...

We're human garbage,
thrown into the trash compactor.
Rib cages breaking,
ignored pleading.
Etcetera.

Anonymous said...

I too woke up with a thirst for self killing this Monday past. The cyber bullying has taken its toll I'm afraid. When I made veiled references, I was only encouraged. I thought that my suicide must be grand to be didactic! I could launch myself from an aeroplane. I could fly to Mozambique for glorious unprotected sex. Then I settled on the stalwart shotgun wound to the head. But where is this academic to find such a machine on short notice? In the end I just masturbated to the sunrise. Sigh, I hope next Monday more closely resembles a Cyan.

Marius, do control your petulant angst you angry little man. Perhaps you should form a heavy metal band and write contrived lyrics with clever titles like Seasons in the Abyss. Ah, Marius, forgive me. I only lash out because I am coward who lost his editorship as a result of wild indulgences and a poor eye for talent.

~rh