Your Humble Narrator

the Crack-Up

Hello, world.

I was thinking... about the day I snap.

And I realised that there probably wouldn't be a day in particular, but I am the type to be worn down gradually, slowly, painfully... until I'm no longer there.

It's not really a snap.

"Of course all life is a process of breaking down, but the blows that do the dramatic side of the work - the big sudden blows that come, or seem to come, from outside - the ones you remember and blame things on and, in moments of weakness, tell your friends about, don't show their effect all at once. There is another sort of blow that comes from within - that you don't feel until it's too late to do anything about it, until you realise with finality that in some regard you will never be as good a man again."

- F. Scott Fitzgerald

I'm reminded of the 1920s tonight. It's not just the swing jazz, nor the talk about canes and hats, but more of a strange... dreamy quality of tonight.

... Okay I'm not making sense.

---

Conversation of the day:

Shane: I just did something really lazy.
Me: What? Did you pee into a bottle?
Shane: ... w. t. f.

(And no, of course he did not. I'm being funny. I'm funny! Most of the time.)

15062009; 12:58am