Life is like trying to commit suicide with a toothbrush: you’re all geared up to do it but decide to brush your teeth first. Equals no sense.
I have been pondering contradiction. I have come to the conclusion that I am an admirer of the contradictory. I am not entirely sure why. I simply am.

The time has come and gone. Things used to look clear, simple, discernible. There were sides to take, words that connected, people that said them and meant it. But to make it work you’ve got to have some form of unification. To make it work you can’t half believe. You can’t hold on to something else just to make sure that if the whole thing goes to shit you’ve got your ass covered. Thus is today, kids. Cover that ass.

I’m not as cynical as I appear to be. Not even close. But I have come to the conclusion that without pressure there can be no cause for resistance. Without criminality there can be no justice. Without evil there can be no good. Ethics define our intentions against those things, but without them our ethics change and their definitions do as well. To suit a purpose, nothing more. In the absence of conformity goes conformity, in the wake of perfection swims beautiful imperfection, us. Like half-shark, toothless carnivores.

Full of shit indeed. It gets easier, I find. Being full of shit, that is. Sometimes you choose what it is that you want to do. Sometimes what you do chooses you. Sometimes you don’t sleep right. Sometimes you pace around battling three hour-long panic attacks trying to calm yourself down. You talk to yourself in that little voice of yours, cracking jokes, making it seem silly. Everything gets blurry and eventually your hands stop wringing because they hurt, you’ve just noticed. You collapse onto the couch and sit there, inhaling and exhaling. The most primary of functions. And then you fall asleep. Tomorrow night you get to do it all over again. The funny thing is, you don’t know why it happens. You’ve never been able to figure that out. It just does. And it continues to. From your childhood, when you used to sleepwalk and then start screaming so uncontrollably that they put you on medication, to yesterday which was just another link in the chain. The night brings you things to say that are all part of a big inside joke, your destruction, your creation, the people that fit together inside you like a puzzle to make up your memory. It’s the day-to-day business of making sure that there’s a mess to clean up and then another mess to take its place. So you come to like it. It begins to make sense. Maybe it always did. And from that comes all that defines you in a deal-with-the-devil package. Maybe not so good. Maybe good enough to be passable. Years later you can’t remember when you had a choice in the matter. You just do. And are.

Everything else is window dressing. Just question marks in questions that never have good, tangible answers. Unlike rock and roll, unlike most things in this day and age, maybe not knowing is a good thing. Maybe leaving that sheet blank is the best thing for it. Everyone finds their own answers to those questions anyway. The problem has always been trying to unify billions of them. People are inherently proud of their ability to think and believe what they want. Full of shit or not. Maybe, in the end, that ability is the unifier. Maybe that’s too dangerous. Fear, unlike all other mediums, will always throw a shadow over the other big words. Words like faith, right, wrong, good, evil. Fear is the great equalizer. In the face of fear everything else is unreliable. That’s why they all exist in futility, or at all. Because fear allows them to.

Hopefully I contradicted myself in there somewhere.