Was smoking with a friend some time ago when I met this girl who sort of barged in… Turned out she was my friends new friend, doing some thesis on some post modern filmography. Well, we were ll stoned, one thing led to another and she was showing me her poem, saying “if you like Silvia Plath, you’ll love this”. i kept trying to tell her that I like Plath’s book, and I’ve only read a couple of her poems. “read”. But she shoved her ipad into face anyway and I thought what the fuck, lets see what we got here. I thought it was the most narcissistic incoherent anal piece of bullshit that I’ve had the pleasure of coming across and did my best to keep from snickering(note that I was high and this part makes me think of Neil Patrick Harris’ scene from that second Harold and Kumar movie). So I toughed through the whole first half and gave back the ipad saying I was just too bloody high to get whats going on. I don’t think she found out what I really thought of it, though it felt like she was mad+condescending the next couple of times we met. She kept making snide third person remarks about herself while looking at me, which was unmistakable(“some people think I talk too much and will be happy when I leave”, she was finishing her thesis and moving back home BTW . My friend who was also there gave an awkward look, like he knew what was going but just didn’t have any intention clearing anything up. She left soon after and I never heard of her again.
Sorry about this sad piece of rambling. Its just that when I think of a story like this( like an Akira Kurosawa movie), I usually get this strange sensation in my chest and stomach; something that I think an anxiety attack would feel like but I’ve never really  had one so I couldn’t tell you. I get this sort of feeling a lot nowadays. Like nihilism is in the air and just waiting for me to give in.This sensation that sprouts from believing that the world is a meaningless machine, that no spirit and no God can give meaning to your life  unless some neurons fire up to secrete some endorphins or NGH or w/e, just enough to give you a feeling of exaltation and not pain, just enough to start a chain of amphetamine secretions that makes you believe(in love or purpose or destiny). I feel like throwing up right now
Thanks if you actually read up till here. Would love to here your thoughts about the nauseating-anxiety attack-feeling. I’m just waiting for some download, looks like it’ll take ten more minutes.
6 comments
I have a fairly severe anxiety disorder. Anyway, I enjoyed reading what you wrote. It was an unusual combo of a brief snippet of life combined with commentary afterwards. Think I like “and I never heard from her again.” as the last line because I think a lot of us have had those experiences where you never hear from someone again. I guess just personal reflection on my part, but there seems to be some mysterious glue that attracts people to each other, though rarely does it work out that their paths stay together (the bond breaks).
Thanks for sharing that, enjoyed reading it, that situation where people show you their work telling you before hand it is great and then it’s meh is always ackwardly fun to be in. The phrase “nihilism is in the air” got stuck in my head, don’t know why.
I liked your story. I have a friend who’s a very technically skilled guitar player. He can play all sorts of complicated noodly solos, and does a great job covering other peoples songs. When he comes up with his own original material though, well…it’s not very pleasing to my ears.
“How’d that sound”? “What’d you think”?
I usually answer “it was alright”, even though I didn’t think it was very good. I guess most artists like feedback. Writers, poets, musicians, filmmakers, people who draw, etc.. Is honesty always the best policy? Maybe not.
That’s what I usually refer to as “being stoned.” That shit always cranks my anxiety into stupid levels over absolutely everything.
I know how you feel- that nauseating, anxiety feeling. It is actually what lead me to this site. I got talked to by my boss. I work at a safehouse for domestic violence and was told that the clients felt I am too strict. When I got home all I could think about was that conversation. Have I been too strict? Am I causing more harm than good by working there? Millions of questions ran through my head till I could no longer sleep. This conversation with my boss was my reaching point. I have been shoring all my depression and anxiety safely behind a wall these past 10 yesrs and this was the sledgehammer knocking it down. It has been 3 hours and I am still not calm. Not even my books (which take away reality) have been able to help me.
I know the timing is off, but I just wanted to ask how were holding up?
Just curious about your situatation I guess. Don’t know if you’ll get this, but I hope you reply if you do.