For Those Whose Blogs I Used to Read

I smoked in the rain, under an awning, after I spent another day immersed in the sciences that have awed and befuddled me for four days. Sciences and massive institutions, like the National Institutes of Health or, better, our national government have forced upon me weird and immediate interpersonal realities.

I really wanted to write about why listening affectionately to The Hold Steady locked me into a form-fitting and helpless perspective. While I was under this awning, I thought about some things that I might say to people with whom I am familiar. I thought about experiences I have, mostly mundane, that I probably won't share with anyone. I monologized about some things that I haven't done and will probably never do but think would be cool. I came to a certain realization that I could only come up with these ideas by placing myself in some abstract future where I am able to talk affectionately about my current predicament as if it were the past. Of course, if I could claim a certain level of sincerity for the things that I do, I would be in no dream state. I would be acting. I would not be reminiscing about the present. The present that cannot actualize from this viewpoint. Paralysis, dog. "Hold steady" is not healthy to assume as action. The Hold Steady suggests inaction and nostalgia. I was 16 or 17 when How a Resurrection Really Feels really got to me. I assume their past-tense narration. Oh I inflate what I don't do, turning it around a couple times in my mind by assuming a peer's perspective. Can you see how this can end badly?

Gonna eat starbursts and watch Kids now.