Thursday, October 18, 2007


So, earlier this week, while carousing through Best Buy, I happened upon the small white pyramid of Xbox 360s, and I couldn’t make myself walk away, I couldn’t ignore them any longer. It had been some time since they had seen a nice solid price slash from the unbelievable 600 to the barely more reasonable 450 dollar mark. The fact that those Microsoft bastards had thrown in two free games alongside the console was too much to resist, I was forced to scrape out funds for it.
And right now, it sits in my room, not plugged in, and I feel agitation of the worst possible kin; it’s that heavy realization of knowing that perhaps you made a bad decision. I haven’t had any time to play the goddamn thing, nor have I had time to play it at my apartment. My roommate has made it clear that he gets in five or so hours of TV every fucking day, and I only allow it because in turn, he does my dishes. As I type, I wait for him to finish with his movie or perhaps his episode of “Sex and the City”, and as much as I’d like to say my bitching is justified, it really isn’t. Usually he turns in around 10:00 p.m., but for some horrible reason, I feel like he purchased a move “on demand”, and will spend maybe two or three more hours watching it. I staggered into the home around 11:30 p.m. last night and lo and behold, he was watching Transformers. Goddamn him and goddamn those stupid fucking instant order movies and goddamn his cable subscription, fuck all of you out there in TV land.
It’s been a long frustrating week, and I feel like I could really benefit from some visual violence that horror movies just can’t provide anymore. His antics, that terrible roommate of mine, are the only reason I’m behind the keyboard as of now. I don’t want to bully him, I’m not so sure I could, this truly is suffering in silence. I feel myself slipping into a ramble, imagining myself playing the games, oh god it’s getting bad.
Nothing else really holds up in terms of what matters, god it hurts to admit it’s true but it is and I just want to make this pain end. I’ve got work to do, there’s always work to do: journals to be updated, contacts to be call, progress to be made on the massive side projects that seem to barely have much of my time. Here I am, able to do such secondary important things, but I cant bring myself to do them. I can only sit here, before the keybard, and let all of my misery flow out onto the keyboard. Oh, how I’d love nothing more than to just have a TV of my own, so I could finally toss aside that useless notion of patience and simply fucking live. Nothing else matters anymore; not Iraq or Iran or the onset of World War III and the very possible notion that everything will soon be gone, same oes for the environment and the monks in Myanmar and the starving children in Columbia and the great pieces of literature strewn around the room, unread and unloved, likely to be burned before opened. I cant stop rambling, but I continue on, it’s letting the tiniest little bit of pressure squeeze out of my skull so as to prevent a terribly painful end. I try to be a good guy but then the big man upstairs, whoever the hell he is nowadays, he punishes me and I don’t understand why, oh how hard it is to be me, unable to play my overpriced video game console that I will certainly pump more dollars into to improve my gameplay experience, buy/rent more useless games, and whatever else that one could do to waste their time/money when involved with video games, of which I’m sure there are many. It is time for this blog to end before I lose anymore faith in my ability to write.

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