Reconsider why you drink.

I’m not talking about alcoholism, or binge drinking, or morning sneaks in your coffee- I’m talking about the REASON behind your minimal intake of alcoholic beverages and/or a valium or Klonopin, two hours on a treadmill, surfing the web, cleaning behind the oven three times a day, meditating, ironing your hair, redecorating, knitting, painting, writing, skiing, especially cross-country, lawn maintenance, coffee house lingering, earning a living. It’s all about time and boredom. The excrutiating boredom that comes from actually being still and clear headed in the midst of “it” – by “it” I mean, all of “it” — the endless, life-stuffed crap that attacks your sanity from your first waking moment until that glorious moment when you are under the sedation of a sleep state. Now, sure, there are positive and beautiful things about life….as the dolts insist on reminding us– oh, the sunset, your dreams come true, your child admitted to an Ivy league institution, your ability to convince yourself that you are somehow unique from the rest of the schelps that have taken part in the world circus. You may have come to terms with your accessories, and gas guzzling monster of a vehicle, your charity events, your artistic angst, your off-the-grid status and organic consistencies. Your simple struggles to be a good person. It’s all founded on your ingenius ability to rationalize, and deny, and squeeze your diseased brain into a survivalist tube. Let me just say that if you are not bored stiff with it all, people you regard as friends are bored stiff with you and wouldn’t spend a moment exchanging pleasantries unless they hoped to uprung themselves or at least have the opportunity to experience their disgust and boredom over your generous dinner party five courses. How can a person compete with the hoards who conform to the standards that are rewarded with so many worldly goodies, foremost being your score, your high ranking, which allows you to connect with other high ranking individuals who, trusting your discretion and dull demands, reward you with enough shrimp dip and the possibility of accepting your into their womb of bougeouise comforts, that, hell, who can say no? the problem is, the boredom of their conformism. It is deadly. It can kill your spirit, – you trade your spirit for a few charming dinner parties, or maybe a starring role, and yet, the boredom is excrutiating and takes its toll on your health and desperate search for autenticity. The ego’s– the soft ego’s hidden behind two goodie two shoes- marching in a row- do they have any idea how stupid they are? The sheep, in the condos, with the season tickets to the community theater, after all, their name is engraved on one of dozens of bricks paving the way, up the stairs, to the safe, solid, non confrontational theatrical performance- the price of the brick is worth the comfort of considering that one is a part of the artistic angst, the suffering of the artist, anything to disway them from the fact that they are boring as cabbages, conforming to the dullard standards of that which has already been deemed within the bounds of acceptability. Let’s put it this way. You are either fooled or not fooled. You can either support the mediocrity or stay home and read a good book. But it’s the boredom, I understand, that keeps you bouncing from one lecture to another safe theatrical adventure- in the name of sanity- your own sanity, so you are not reminded of your fear of the unknown, the cutting edge, the truth. take comfort, you are the majority and the majority will salve your midnight concerns of conformism. I can’t blame you. But still, you bore me to death and I will avoid you and your cheer leading process, your slick posters and tired reviews, your continuous regurgiation of that which has already been retired as old, yesterday, not worth a dime, not worthy of our time, for time is finite- and there lies the dilemma. to be alone, knowing that the circus continues serving up the goodies of the moment, and still refusing to participate, becoming a pariah, an outcast, and it wouldn’t be so difficult, really, if it weren’t so powerful.. the draw– the siren song of acceptability, the comfort derived from the after theater discussions- the art magazine review, the society page photo- Can art be created in a vacuum? I will soon find out.

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