About that black cat I met yesterday....

I've become a wretched shell of a man.
Not in all ways, of course. I've just been victimized by my own free will. The decisions I've made (especially those I've made when under the influence of alcohol, an erection, or both) have been for the most part, very poor. Not poor in the way that my life is going badly or poor in the way that they've led to mistakes bearing dire consequences, but poor morally. Mostly meaning selfish.

Now, i think being selfish makes a lot of sense most of the time. after all, if you can't treat yourself, who can you treat. and then i could go off on a tangent of there being no such thing as a selfless act, etc, etc. but that's not the subject of this particular train of though, and i must be careful not to de-rail. the question I've posed is; which is more evil? an inconsiderate selfish act, or a carefully considered, but ultimately selfish act? the question makes little sense, really. when it comes down to it, each scenario could have so many variables that there's no point in even bothering to separate the two. Conscious, unconscious, malicious, sympathetic. It's makes little difference.

I'm still losing track of my immediate concern, but we'll focus on my inability to concentrate another time. This is (as cliche as it may sound) about the battle between good and evil. The angel on my shoulder is no where to be found. My actions are becoming more corrupt and selfish by the day. The long blonde idealist of my early adulthood is fading further into the shadows of the past, and what was once only a mildly cynical spark has become a wildfire of misanthropy. I may start growing horns at any moment, and the worst part is the artistic satisfaction that i get from lamenting my mis-steps. Each seemingly subconscious less-than-heroic act gets looked back upon, devoured, digested, and ultimately shit out again in the form sad song. It's nothing new. Painters, poets, musicians, writers.... They've been creating misery and turning it in to art for hundreds of years.

So what can i do? If movies have taught me anything, the only way to redeem myself is to have a child, preferably twins (boy and a girl) and not have them know that i'm their father while they're growing up. Then i have to destroy my daughter's home and cut off my son's hand shortly before revealing to him that i'm his father. if that plan goes well from there, my son will eventually confront me, and try to convince me that there is still good in me and then i'll prove him right by throwing a nasty old man down a pit to his demise. then, i'll start to die but not before my son realizes i'm actually an ok guy and then he'll cremate my remains on a floating pyre while his friends dance in celebration. finally he'll see my ghost reunited with some of my other ghost friends looking down on him.

Redemption is hard to come by i suppose, but if that's what it takes....