“Why so dour, Mike?” “Why not look on the bright side of things?” “Why not count the positive?” “What could you possibly have to complain about, you spoiled little shit?”
If any of these questions came to mind when you read the title of this post, then stuff it. This post is about a very simple and troubling problem I’ve had throughout my life — a neverending feeling that I’m missing out on the greatest party ever. The only catch is that the party, while probably a lot more fun than the drab things I get into, is full of a bunch of undesirables.
It’s a pretty simple feeling, but hard to properly characterize. It’s as if there was this beautiful garden with unicorns and fairies and O.G. Kush that exists somewhere, where everybody’s happy. The only catch is that this garden’s name is “stupidity.”
Quite a few of you who read this will think I’m snobbish, elitist, pretentious, a bit too full of myself, an asshole, petty, bitter, and envious. Congrats on your amazing perceptive abilities.
Surely there are folks out there that feel the same way I do — people who have an overwhelming inability to be satisfied by anything. The sad reality is, many people just aren’t wired to be happy and dumb all of the time. In fact, I’m willing to wager that happiness and dumbness occupy the same emotional space.
You might contend that all I need is a bit of wine, women, song, and sunshine. I think you may be right… perhaps if I could get just a few of these things, I’d be happy again…
I live here:
Land of shitty weather, ugly women, utterly inaccessible alcohol (you have to go to an “alcohol distributor” here where they rip you off like you’re 18), and grossly intolerable local music.
Ah well. One day, my friends. One day.