Angst

I have this ever present wish for something better. I think it is symptomatic of a life where, due to some incredible luck, I was born so privileged as to believe that I could do anything I wanted. I do not mean to imply that I am alone in this, I know that I am not the only person in the upper middle class. The wish is there when I am dreaming, eating, fucking, reading, or watching television. It is there when I am talking to you, when I am drinking, and when I am using drugs. On the rare occasion when the wish fades away and I am fully engaged, the black cloud is behind me, every thing I can see has a crisp border, my perception is the tip of a knife cutting the Gordian knot, life is good. The gift of immediacy tears away my nebulous dissatisfaction. It is these moments that I hold together with paper, and try every day through varied means, and with infrequent success, to reach once more.