Saturday, July 28, 2012

Consider, Like, The Situation.

My mate Chaz, who for those who don't already know, has a blog here, said the other day, that he didn't read this blog any more because, it "isn't funny".  It should be noted that I completely agree with him.

I kinda miss the days where I ripped off various metal and cycling blogs to brutishly beat a highly stylised and, now that I take the time to think about it, largely false depiction of my life into submission.  These days I have to come to terms with not only my own misgiving about this place, but those of people I respect like Chaz.  Why has this blog become, to put it bluntly and, you know, inyaface, so fucking dull and boring?  

We could, if we wanted to be dull, and follow through with pop psychology, point to the various what we'll call 'shit goings on' in the past two or three years as the insidious force behind the self indulgent, existentially undergraduate rants this blog has seen in the past few years, and especially months.

It might be, I suspect, a little more convoluted than that.  Whilst my existential confusion has been undergraduate, that does not prevent it, unfortunately, from being very puzzling.  Why isn't this blog funny anymore?  Because I see less stuff that is funny.  Instead, I see more stuff that is sad, alienating, disgusting, ugly, and even evil.

Consider the statement, 'I don't know if I am in pain.'  Grammatically sound but, when examined, totally meaningless.  You can't doubt you're in pain.  You either are, or you're not.  It isn't mental, or examinable.  It either is or isn't.  On, or off.

I reckon it's the same as something being funny.  It's kinda meaningless to say 'I don't know if that is funny'.  You either find it funny, instinctively, or you don't.  If I explain a joke to you, that you were at first unsure about, and you then find it funny, it isn't that you weren't sure if it was funny, it's that you didn't understand it in the first place.  It wasn't a comic problem but rather one of comprehension.  You don't know something is funny.  It just is.  The minute you pick it apart, examine it, think about why it's funny, it almost always ceases to be funny.

Maybe I'm less funny, or make less funny jokes in this blog, is because I'm examining, or thinking (albeit clumsily, fumbling in the dark) too much about the things that I once found funny.  Now, I'm more likely to find it sad.  Or perhaps events of the past few years have tinged, overshadowed what has in fact been a comedic frenzy.  Maybe I've just lost my sense of humour.

To give a forced and perhaps dangerous allegory.  The other day I was on the tram.  Opposite me was a family with a toddler of maybe 2-3.  She was flinging her arms around, stamping her feet, making conversation with random people on the tram, and generally being a rad toddler.  As she sat on her mum's lap, pointing at things outside, asking questions, laughing, I found myself smiling along with her.

Maybe, I sat there wondering, the world really is a great place, so long as it's unadulterated by the worries of adult humans.  Maybe we tinge the world, ourselves, with the darkness that lurks at the corners.  I found this thought pretty encouraging.  As I followed the girl's finger, still pointed outside, just near the supermarket on Smith st, I noticed there was a guy, doubled up in the gutter, vomiting what appeared to be blood onto the street.  

The girl didn't notice, but I sure as hell did.  

And that's what i'm trying to get at here, if any of you out there are looking for what we might call a crux of the matter, is that I don't notice funny shit as much anymore.  On The New Timer, it's all cycling lolz, and that's one persona I have, and one that I enjoy, but the crux of the matter is that, when I think about the World now, and where my place is in it, I don't think about funny guys with bikes, or hilarious metal bands that wear tight pants, I think about that guy vomiting blood into the street.  Of misanthropy, of despair, of a sense of loss.  Not loss as in I've lost something, but loss as in I'm at a four way cross roads and fuck knows where I'm going and, besides, I've only got a few litres of petrol left anyway.

So, sorry Chaz, but that's kinda where this blog is at, at the moment.  We can dismiss this is white guy angst and, let's face it, it is.

But there it is.

Maybe I'll sort it out, maybe I won't.

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