Well it’s that time of the night at reload where I stick on my headphones really loud and type up a journal entry, which this time is about a quarter to one on Sunday morning. Normally it’s a bit later, but I got up early today, around 5:30am. So it’s been a long haul of a day so far and I’ve got another six or so hours left before I start to entertain the notion of getting some sleep. The body just doesn’t run on sugar and caffeine like it did when I was eighteen. I’ve been trying to avoid scoffing the soft drinks and chocolate bars as well, the bulge has been getting a little too bulgy for my liking lately. Gotta keep the sucker under control.
On Tuesday night I went to see Alice Cooper in concert, which, to put it as plainly as possible, rocked out. The friend I was planning to go with got unwell at the last moment, so after ringing an inordinate number of my friends to find most of them either too busy, too rational or too out of the country to come to an Alice Cooper concert, I managed to get one of my riding friends to come along, and he loved it.
Ugly or Evil, he rocks out.
There were several costume changes, a guillotine, a couple of killings, some scarecrows, a coffin, some raising of the dead, throat slitting, decapitation, some time in a straightjacket, some spewing of blood and just for good measure, Paris Hilton being attacked by a dog and blood spurting from her throat. And what rock show would be complete without that?
But the show was awesome. Sounded just like I always felt Alice Cooper should. Really goddamn loud, with a metric arseload of bass and heavy guitars. My favourite bits would have to have been his old anthem-style numbers like School’s Out and I’m Eighteen.
But back in the real world, I was out fulfilling some consumer whorish urges on Thursday night and ran into one of my old girlfriends and we had a bit of a yarn. And at one point she asked me if I was happy. I am. My life is good. I’ve been loving my riding, I realised the other night when making phone calls just how many good friends I really have, I’m learning to do a job that I really enjoy and I have a comfy place to go to bed at night. And while the quiet pile of cash I have between the mattresses slowly depletes itself in order to sustain my existence, who cares. It’s only money. It doesn’t really make a difference to me. There is no one joy so infinite that it will provide pleasure for all time and no such pain that will cause one misery for eternity. In the scope of this life, all tangible things are petty and finite, and so to put stock in them is a waste. It is more important to do what is right and what brings you joy than to have any number of possessions or ties.
Look at me, I’m spouting off like I’m the God damned Dalai Lama or something. All hail the mad red haired white boy.
I can’t help it if I’m loving it.
I’m still looking for it
I’m still looking for it yeah