procrastination, or, how to sit forever and avoiding getting your butt on a bike

i have to ride.

of course is it june outside???? no. it's not. it's april. it's cold and dreary and allegedly, purportedly and ostensibly supposed to "clear," you look at the radar and "the system has moved out to sea," yet my immediate experience of the physical environment is one of abject february misery.

i ordered sun, for the love of god, but god STILL hasn't acknowledged the cheese tray i sent Him last christmas. it's an ongoing thing.

i have to get on my bike -- i could sit here reconfiguring the blog for hours, but that's just stupid. i sit in front of a computer all week at work with no hope of escape.

anyway, last night i realized how deeply connected my sense of personal confidence and will to live are to buying new clothes. yes, yes, i've tried to take the lofty lao-tzu zazen road to needing nothing so that i am sufficient unto the day, blah blah, but that ain't cuttin it. i'm superficial and unevolved and spending $157.48 on 10 new things last night gave me the same burst of confidence and personal accomplishment last night at 8:38 pm that visiting a shrine, contemplating my bad habits, etc. etc. for days and nights on endless end normally would.

i have come to the conclusion that there is no personal progress in the world, that i need my addictions be they spending or dancing or excess consumption of haribo gummi cola bottles and i don't care if i end up a shriveled almost-corpse in a gutter and no one loves me, i really DO NOT care, as for the week i had at work and the last three weeks i've had of my life, where sanity has been a much-longed-for, yet seldom-achieved goal, thank you very much little perfectionist self-help gurus but i'll take my codependency and denial and immorality and everything else bad and wrong about me that gets me up in the damn morning ...

... and i will march my sweet little fanny down to the emporium of my choice and slap down a card containing money i don't have to spend and get a dress i've been eyeing for weeks at 40 off. with a crinoline.

and yes i need to work on my defense mechanisms too, but on second thought... no, i don't.

do i sound angry? well, isn't depression anger turned inward? i am angry. i'm angry at myself for being so hard on myself, and i'm angry at the world for venturing their unsolicited opinion on every breath i take. i will do and spend whatever i damn well please. within limits of course, but those limits are mine to determine.

other people can have enlightenment and Life's Great Lessons. they can have their Process and Procedure. they can have their Secret and their Law of Attraction and their rules of engagement and roles of comportment. by the time i was fourteen i had about as much of life as any person should reasonably have to handle. since then, it's pretty much been an exercise in postmodern confusion. is it an excuse? no. but it's a reason. i think deeply about stuff forever and ever but none of it ever gets fixed. so why fix? why not just let it go? does it sound immature? okay, i'm immature. most importantly, i want eggnog now. and silver eyeliner. and wedge slingbacks.