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Looking for answers? Of course you're not, nobody wants to hear how things are.
Apparently clarity is the path to inner peace, although to be honest, inner peace is overrated. Inner peace is what you get when you're in a car accident and you're reduced to a vegetable or something. Now, inner conflict, that's interesting - it's like TV, only it's in your head and you can watch it whenever you like. And there aren't many advertisements, which is always nice because less adverts means less advertising executives I have to kill some day...

So anyway... I was walking around today, as one does, and again I was reminded of childhood and associated junk. The way the world smells in the evenings, the way the sky looks in the mornings, and the knowledge that this is the same me that was here ten years ago.

And there's the comforting thought - I'm still me. I can still remember racing girls on holiday in the summer and losing. I still remember sitting on the beach and watching the waves. And the reason I can do all this is because it happened a long time ago, and very recently, all at once. History doesn't run around in circles because it's smart enough to actually know where it's going. But people? They run in circles a lot. Whether they know it or not, they repeat their lives over and over because that's all they know.

These days, when I make a decision, or whatever, I can literally feel the sensation that this is what I chose last time. Deja vu is nothing more than me making the same mistakes over and over. It's so nice to live in the illusion that you change as you grow older, that you learn from mistakes, that you forge new paths, but the important stuff stays the same. Sure, you can take a different route, but you're going to the same place. And the sooner you realise that not only are you doing that, but that your destination also kinda sucks, the sooner you can just quit worrying and get used to failure....

Or words to that effect. The point is that everywhere you go, you've been there before. You might not have got there the same way, but there's not an emotional state left that I've not experienced in one form or another, no thought I can have about where I am today that I didn't have some other time. There are no original feelings, it's all the old shit being recycled because our brains really aren't all that inventive.

So what can you do about it? I mean, okay, when faced with the inevitability that nothing you do will make any difference and you're still screwed, you probably want to think of a way to fix that. Were you not listening? You're screwed, I just told you. It's natural to look for ways to fix where you are, but sometimes it can't be done. So why even try resisting? Just get the Hell on with it.

The only thing you can do is to remember where it is you've been, so that when you get there the next time you don't scream out in surprise. Face it, there are places you're gonna visit again, you'd best get used to being there, and work out how to deal with it.

And sometimes you go to places you can't get back to no matter how hard you try. It's inevitable that someday you'll be left without anywhere new to go, but that's not to say that you get your pick of your past experiences. Some of them you only get the one time, and in such a situation the thing you've got to get used to is that you can't go back. The best you can do is make sure you remember those happy places, and keep going forwards in the hope that you've not yet exhausted all the new ones to visit.

Is this analogy getting too strained? I'm thinking so. It's a shame, since it's really the only way I can express it - if people had come up with words for emotions, then they wouldn't be emotions any more. That's kinda the point. All you can do is take your emotions and imagination, mix them together, and then wrap words around them. And it looks more or less the same shape, but it's not the same thing by any means.

And if that makes any sense, then I'll never sell my first book. Because from what I've seen, the majority of people who sell books are talking shit that nobody has the capacity nor the desire to understand. Until I can abstract my ramblings sufficiently, I'll never be a success in a world that doesn't want clarity, inner peace, questions, and especially not answers.

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Hey, you'll buy my book, won't you sweetie ;o)

It's funny you should mention writing a book at the end, because I was thinking the flow and language was book-like. Now you'd be onto a winner if it made sense, and didn't sound like a passage straight out of an English Literature class.

You see, that's the point, when I read it back it sounds kind of right. But that's not what I want. Because if I wrote a book, I'd not want it to sound like anything else anybody ever wrote. But my writing style is pretty much taken from about four authors in itself, which screws me right from the start.

By the way - please leave at least a part of Squiggy still capable of feeling pain, because I have a really comic set of events in store for him which would be wasted if he can't feel the end effect...

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