Sixty Five . . .

Existentialistic Rumination

By Stormcat

I burned my thumb today while trying to add a log to the fire in the wood stove then anger erupted inside me like a volcano and filled me up so that I didn't think I could hold it and I thought I was going to explode. Is it so the opposite of how I felt last night when I was so alone and sad that I couldn't stop myself from crying when the man's lovely wife, in the movie I was watching, said yes I think it's crazy but if you think you need to do it then I'm with you.

Should I bring up God again?

Does drinking ease the pain or simply concentrate it into a future tragic event?

Then there is this "girl" that I am trying to try for (of course) and I think I will make her a gift for Christmas that will be beautiful and the most unique gift that could ever be given! !%##%$^$##^#^*^&#$%$#%^! So I plan it and for every step of the process of making this gift it seems that the power tool I need is one of the one's stolen from me in the most recent robbery.  So then I have to work harder and make the gift by hand and it makes me wonder if, since I write whole paragraphs to her that she answers with a single word, whether she will even realize the extent of the effort.

Should I move on?

Does dreaming affect the outcome of the subject when the object resists?

And on top of all this there is my ex-wife who I often think about in the context of remembering all of our diminutive endearences and the sweetness of life lived with her whenever she was present; in spite of the demands, disappointments and hours of loneliness. Now she hates me, thinks I am the scum of the earth, and has no regret for having erased me from her life. I often wonder if it was a mistake on my part to push her to the point of hating me enough to demand divorce.

Does that she didn't really fight that hard indicate

 foreordination or existentialistic inevitability?

So I get to the point where I start to believe that living the good life really is better than living a good life because I can't really picture myself ever living a good enough life to make much of a lasting difference. Not only that but it seems that in the process you are constantly fighting against the multitude who are intent on living the good life at the expense of anyone and everyone else. Then you get an infected sliver in your finger while chopping firewood for the old man down the street and they amputate your arm.

So should I bring up God yet again?

Is believing in life after death the only requirement . . .

Maybe drinking oneself into oblivion really is the answer!

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