Existence Without Purpose?

all my heroes had "it", and yet few of them seemed happy and content throughout their careers (and ongoing). i have been wearing the same t-shirt for two days, and already the excitement of a new look and desperation to feel american ( an american rock star, an american writer, an american drinker, just a fucking american, whatever!) has dissolved. the t-shirt will shrink and i'll have stop wearing it because I really have to curb my habit for wearing my jeans so low, as i've started to notice it's probably not as cool or attractive to any girl as i might have thought. this may seem irrelevant but it's a short sleeved metaphor for the reasons behind my fear of holding no purpose forever and a day.

i am a fad junkie, and i can see it in nearly every area of my life. it's got to be full on and swimming with false promises of success, and all those things i really want so badly, no matter how tragic other people may think it to be. i got an acoustic guitar, then decided i needed to be the next bright eyes. i got a bass, wanted to be the next pete wentz. i wrote one half conscious poem, got it published in an almost invisible magazine, and decided i wanted to be the next...well the next whoever. despite my usual attempts at discussing poety, i really don't know half as much as most people i studied with did. not that knowledge of poetry will make you a good poet, of course not. you can tell a poem has been written by someone with next to no knowledge, because it's shit. despite what a cunt i think ted hughes to be, and how mind numbingly soulless and boring his poetry appears to me...i can't really say he's shit. but i did call him a cunt, and that's probably worse.

but yeah, i thought "maybe, because i seem to be drunk quite a lot, i'll indulge this pasttime and maybe upgrade it to a full blown hobby". blahblah, i'm so badass because i always have a drink. it's not really that badass to hit on every single girl in my phone or on my facebook when totally fucked, or to basically fail in the real world, propping myself up with my past and somewhat fading girl glories. you gotta stay fresh, and that's the beef. maybe that's why fads are okay then, but i'll come back to that. too many people rely on the past. everyone knows someone who did something mad once. come on, everyone has done something a bit mad. and if they haven't, and they are kind of boring, someone they loved probably died or something like that. that's not mad, but it's hard to deny it makes them more interesting. hardly a worthy trade for a human life is it, but you know what i'm saying. i'm not being a cunt about the dead.

stop fucking bringing up that one time you got wasted and...i don't know started a mass party in the street, or told your science teacher to shut the fuck up in front of everyone. the problem with youthful stories is we cheapen and ruin them by bringing them up all the time. perhaps it is age, a classic sign of ageing. the reason they were messed up or exciting is cause we probably didn't really think about it, or give a shit at the time. these days i'm more likely to hear myself saying "oh this will make a great story one day", when what i should be saying is "shut the fuck up, jak". no longer being a teenager means you can't really do all that crazy shit without proper, grown up consequences. so maybe that's the problem, there's always two sides to this stuff, eh? how fair and reasoned i am.

but yeah, fuckit, i got a lot out of fads. when i first saw muse on some VHS tape, i saw matt bellamy's hair and was like shiiit, i'm having jet black hair. that was like, 8 years ago. it's been nothing but good times. it sounds like a shallow argument, make no mistake i agree with you. i would list how my fads for well dressed musicians has probably influenced my entire wardrobe, but literally not even i want to hear about that.

music fads are great, especially when you play music. and i guess now , and by now i mean this very second..i guess now it is clear to me why it's so fucking important to dive into fads and tear them apart, and embarrass yourself a bit by being a noob. get into a band, imitate the hell out of them, then get a bit bored, but some of that style, some of that new way of thinking, it sticks with you. there's just stuff like that that doesn't go away. it's just occurred to me this paragraph is definitely the worst paragraph i may have ever written. it could do with a rounded conclusion, but i'm afraid there isn't one, and has rendered this pointless. you could say on the surface, this paragraph exists without a purpose. apart from ironically that does round it all off, not nicely, but definitely off. i guess i haven't found the answer on this screen today.