That I am writing this is an indicator that I have nothing better to do. The objective worth of that statement has no bearing on how wildly its connotation can vary, which is to say that it is both meaningless and polarizing. Neither of those qualities is particularly noble, yet here I am. You can hit the back button now.
Itís another Sunday afternoon in late May. The weather in Chicago could be called overcast and rainy today. It could also be called oppressive, dark, hateful, or some other loaded word meant to emphasize how it negatively affects my mood. I suppose that you could do some readings into that on your own, but overanalyzing and repetitious description seem to come naturally to me. Why should I be succinct when I can fire aimlessly and let you check yourself for gunshot wounds?
Video Games have given me much to do when I couldnít be bothered to come up with something better or more productive. Theyíve been a steady source of entertainment in both times of leisure and times where they actively interfered with real life and its sad, stupid responsibilities. For the past couple of months though I have had little motivation to play them, whether that is due to a lack of new games or simply being more intrigued by other things is debatable.
I guess I could tell you what I have been doing or what games I havenít been playing, but really I donít want to be that open. Iíd like to write something about me, yet have it at the same time not just be about me and be a bit more pertinent to a larger audience, and that seems to be a difficult thing because of how esoteric personal experience is, regardless of how universal something like ennui can be.
Sorry, that I am fishing about here. Itís not that I donít want to get from A to B, but rather that I am unsure on how to do it. Although it does seem like a rude and boorish way to come at things, I still have time on my hands, and more importantly I am not trying to just express ideas, but I am also trying to use up the time that I normally would have dedicated to distraction through video games. If only I could be playing one now instead of typing this.
Where did I put my slippers? I can't seem to find them.
Earlier today I slid Forza 3
back into my 360 for the umpteenth time, and it was with poor intentions. I did it to play through the gameís event list, which robust is not enough of a word to adequately describe, and waste a couple of hours driving around in circles to stave off the fatigue I am currently suffering from in less digital arenas. It felt like the gaming equivalent of my poor, old dad playing one of his endless hands of solitaire, and it tore at the dignity and grace that gaming once held for me. Where had my childhood gone, and when did its joyful pastimes become a calculated, soulless time-sink?
Clearly I was doing something wrong.
After a period of time, that was both too long and entirely not long enough, I turned the game off and started writing this. I donít feel any better for it either because what I had started there left with me, and now itís forming its own narrative on both of our times. My partnership in that despicableness would end easily enough if I were to hit 'Ctrl-A' and 'Delete', but where would that put the time I had invested in both of these things. Hey, Sisyphus. Do you wanna play some video games with me?
I cannot stand waste, and even though I get a strong sense that it is occurring while I game or blog at certain times, there is no easy way to give up on the vain hope that what I am feeling is genuinely relevant and, perhaps more arrogantly, worth not just my time alone.
That is what I look for in a video game, and that I am now sorely missing it is disheartening. While that elusive je ne sais quoi has popped up in many other areas of my life recently, there hasnít been a direct outlet for me to express it. No, Iím not a social animal. Iím like a cricket. Youíll hear me before dusk making music with a crowd of my peers, but I havenít seen most of them face to face, and with the slightest disturbance I will go dead silent. Itís a cowardly lifestyle, but I come by it honestly.
Thunder is rolling outside at a deliberate and idiosyncratic pace that seems to me much more appealing than what I am doing here. My stereo is playing through Lia Ices' Grown Unknown
for its third full time, and that it may actually be more consecutive spins due to how arbitrary everything is feeling at the moment. Iím going to turn up the volume, pour myself a drink, and take a nap.
SundaysÖ who needs Ďem?
LOOK WHO CAME:
Lord Death of Murder Mountain 1