Bored of Me.

Can I divorce myself? My relationship with me has gone south, gone sour. I'm just so tired of everything I think, every miserable, boring, pathetic excuse that pops in my head. Every fantasy I come up with seems the same. Yes, the young boy takes a pill, grows a thick beard, turns into a man and screws his third grade teacher. Zzzzzz.

I know what I'm going to think before I think it. I know what I am going to think about my thinking before I think it. I'm tired of my predictable self-loathing, and I'm tired of my equally predictable self-celebration to combat it. A comedian once said about the 80s diet drink:

"I cannot drink Cystal-Lite because I don't believe in me."

It's not that I don't believe in me, I'm just tired of my beliefs. My prejudices. My likes, my hates.

I AM BORING THE SHIT OUTTA MYSELF.

What's the solution? Just being contrary to who I am? That's boring too. Is there a me somewhere in the knotted pipes of the cereberal cortex that is actually interesting? Does boredom of one's soul lead to debauchery, like making small cuts on your arm to jar you into being alive? Is that why celebrities pay to get craped on by hookers? They're overly sated? That would, however, indicate boredom of an act.

My malaise is more precise: I'm sick of me. I think me and me needs a cooling off period. I/We need to have separate beds, to spend more time apart. Schizophrenia could be just a dirty word for needing some space from myself. I've decided this is a good decision, and I'm packing up my CDs for the move. I've gotten a compartment for myself on the West side of my brain, and I'm redecorating with plaids. Not sure how it will turn out, but after 36 years, I think a respite is called for.