a culture crisis

for the depraved

Month: August, 2012

A Series of (Quite True) Unfortunate Events


Since Lauren Conrad’s gruesome dismemberment of Lemony Snickett’s A Series of Unfortunate Events is all the rage right now, I decided I must post this fantastic article written by Caity Weaver of gawker.com. Shrudely witty – my kind of humour, indeed.

I highly encourage reading it for a few minutes of sincere joy and momentary relief that there still remain some intelligent people out there in the world. Oh, and do watch the video of the lovely LC linked in Weaver’s article… it’s quite fantastic.


Enjoy this little treasure!



A Night-Time Snack

It is currently 3:15 a.m.. I have not had the most productive of days and I am dreading tomorrow. Regardless, I will write on because I have promised myself that I will write more often. I may very well write utter shit, but hey, that’s still something (although nothing much). I haven’t contributed to the novel-in-the-works in some time, and my “power through” attitude seems to be failing. It is sad when I opt to procrastinate on a blog that no one reads as opposed to contributing to a piece of lit that someone may very well read one day if I ever bothered to take the time to write it. And the funny thing is that, usually, when I do eventually give in and commit to something, it turns out quite nice. God knows, this book won’t be spectacular, not even beneficial to the world (since they won’t read it! – who reads anymore?), but it does have the potential to be quite nice.

I think I could be satisfied with that. The problem remains that I will never know if I would in fact be satisfied as I am too lazy to write. Ah, the mindless problems on an anxiety-ridden pathological procrastinator.

I thought that I might try meditating in order to get to a higher state of mind, but it turns out that meditation is not what I am looking for. Apparently, you have to focus quite a bit to find an “almost nothing,” but not “nothing,” as it were. Well, that’s no good. I need nothingness. I think, then, that meditation is probably hopeless on my end. I can’t even train enough to get right down to it. I highly doubt that I, a character of overactive emotions, might ever be able to achieve this elusive nothing, but I imagine there is always room for dreaming.



And at the End of it All

There is this. This feeling, I suppose, one of vastness, expansion, emptiness, but fullness all the same. I have to think about it more often than not for it to come to me; Unfortunately, I am not so lucky, nor so practiced, as others for it to come to me naturally. 


You see, it is a big feeling, almost overwhelming if you lose sight of what it really is. I want to call it nothingness, but not in the sense that it is negative, but the way Alan Watts describes nothingness – like the nothingness of space, that which holds everything, every something that is. 


I want more of it, like a drug, although I know that if it were a drug it would not be as marvellous as it is in fact. Also, I am slightly terrified of drugs and so I am not sure that I would ever venture into nothingness at that point. I will have to write at some point about my fear of drugs – I am afraid they will gnaw away at my brain, and my brain is probably the singular thing I value above all else in myself. It’s another form of vanity altogether. 


In any case, it seems to me that there is something wonderfully exhilarating about this concept of nothing, namely because it seems both terrifying and utterly peaceful, and I think that I am okay with that. 


I will have to become more okay with this however if this is something I am to adopt. I resolve as of now to keep you updated with this endeavour. 



And Now We Blog

Well, I’ve been in the habit of telling people lately that I am a writer, or in any case that I would like to write, although I haven’t written much to warrant that title. So here’s a go. I’ve wanted a novel, and am too lazy to jut one out. I am told that, aside from skill and, well you know, talent, it’s a matter of sitting your ass down on a chair, on a couch, in your bed, at Starbucks, or somewhere or other, and just doing it. As it turns out, I am something of a procrastinator and do not get around to doing much, quite problematically for my dreams of being a writer.

Although to say it quite simply, I do believe I can do this. And not in the Fifty Shades of Grey crap kind of way (No offence! – or perhaps some..). I mean really write something of consequence, which in the end will mean nothing at all (but I would be quite satisfied with that). So if you’re bored, please read. Be my someone to write for, because I sure as hell need some kind of motivation. If the Internet spawned an impressive amount of YouTube artists, it can also afford to spawn a few more WordPress writers.

I suppose it’s time to get creative.