In my expedition to live healthier I’ve been medically advised that there is a direct correlation between my mental and physical states. We’re not talking, braving a cold or being utterly too batshit crazy function; a further explanation reveals that the hungrier I am the more depressed I get due to my preliminary stage diabetes which actually works out for me because I don’t have any aspirations to live past 60. Being the starving artist that I am (no pun intended) I can’t afford the recommended five meals a day to keep me from my sociopathic tendencies therefore my artistry reflects my strife. My inspiration is drawn from fear and desperation; my lyrics are derived from obscure social mishaps and avid resentment of today’s popular culture.
My ailments stated, I’ve found alternative means of remedying myself which have had positive results. A daily workout releases endorphins as well as sugary snack every four hours or so peaks dipping blood sugar levels but what I’ve discovered is that now in my new placid and controlled state I’ve lost a considerable amount of creativity as well as inspiration to do art. I’ve traded creativity for normality which quite bluntly fucking sucks.
Of course I’m not cured, and never will be, as I struggle to delay the inevitable but the sheer assholery of it all, is acquiring the residual clinical depression which was brought about by prolonging a diagnosis of this condition.
I’ve been in this state of misery for so long that I’ve learned to function and somewhat make a living off of it but a simple change of diet and I’m “fine” for the low price of creativity? If you knew me personally then you’d know that I’ve a have a speech for you in which I’d ask you look at the absurdity that is your disgusting life and ask you, “What would you do to change it?” I’d ask you to look out side of your shitty little anonymous internet world and grab life by short and curlies and be damned if your one and only fear would be how you were perceived.
I never had an agenda it was more of (now- realized) sense paranoia of a corporate world that excludes me in their demographic and quite honestly, I’m saddened because this is one of the first signs of old age. I know better now; my frustration with the world although permanent can easily be swayed by a bowl of pasta.
but please, don’t let my rants antagonize you from picking up the new lady ga ga CD you fucking dipshit.
Green Ranger
