(apologies for the clickbait-style title, I couldn't come up with a better one)
Ever think about, how you can be sitting there, in your home, and not have anything particular to do, and nothing of particular interest to partake in, and not have a particular idea of what you will do next, and just sort of think: "well, it's settled - I'm not bringing about world peace, solving homelessness, or curing cancer on this particular day".
Sort of like an over-exaggerated form of saying "fuck all" to whatever is at hand.
I had one of those moments just now. In fact, most of this evening has been "one of those moments" - time going by, silence (that part I can appreciate), and randomly sipping coffee and smoking, not having a particularly "great" thing to write about, and still not having much to read in terms of blogs - just sort of things going "as-is", and feeling a sort of paused existentialism. Kinda/sorta in the vein of abandoning all hope, but having reached that far gone conclusion long ago, so there is nothing really there to "inflict" emotional pain. As if the mental nerve endings of psychological discomfort have been abolished due to the fact that I've written about, talked about (in therapy), and lived my life in such a way that I cannot actually "deal" with it/them anymore. Not that they are necessarily "there", or burdening me - they are just consolidated to the point where I can't fix, or re-fix what has already been dealt with time and time again.
So instead I just move along.
So now, I sit and hear police/ambulance sirens in the distance. Finish a less-bitter cup of coffee. And try not to "expect much" in terms of events happening in the evening. I mean, I like eventfulness, and things of interest and amusement, but those are not things that will happen tonight. Sunday is finished. The month will be over soon. April will come forward. More leaves will bloom, and grass will grow, pollen will fill the air (fxxxing up my allergies). The weather will change. As will my mood. Life continues right along.