Archive for self-delusion

ROOM 115

Posted in writing with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 30, 2011 by kimmy

Stop pounding on the wall, damn it!  I’ll get out of here when I’m good and ready.  Besides, I paid for this room and I’ll do what I want in it.

Jesus, you never get privacy anywhere, do you?  I wouldn’t have had to move into this hole if I found it at home, now would I?  Yeah, well, what’s waiting there, except more questions and faces hounding me. I can’t get anything done while they’re staring and asking stupid things.  Why can’t everyone just leave me alone?

And that goes double for you, whoever you are behind that wall!  If I hear you banging one more time, I’ll punch through myself and teach you a lesson.  Can’t you see that genius is at work?  Morons.  They wouldn’t know art if it slapped them in the face. 

Doesn’t matter.  I’ll just stay here with my friends and we’ll convene with the gods until I fall asleep with the needle in my arm and when I wake up, everything will be changed and I won’t have to explain where I’ve been and who I’ve been with.  And I’ll float on a white cloud of euphoria that will take me to places I’ve only dreamt about and my arrival will signal a new dimension of expression which will be hailed as revolutionary and daring and all the kids will want to emulate me and download my stuff and I’ll become as famous and wealthy as I’ve imagined.  Only it’s real and not just a notion that lies untapped at the bottom of my potential.

Because I’m not just latent talent waiting undiscovered and unappreciated.  When I speak, the angels weep and beg me to continue.  And why should I stop?  I have every right to stand up and say what I feel, even though most of it I buried a long time ago.  I got my pride, you know.  And people depend on me, and I can’t let them down…

What are you talking about?  I’m not running away, I’m running toward.  Running toward that thing which gives me reason to live.  That perfect tone, that unmatched harmonic which only I can hear and bring to the toneless.  This isn’t escapism, you hayseed, this is ART!  And it’s the only reason I exist, to act as channel and funnel its brilliance into crude medium where even the blind can see.  So, don’t bother me with your mundane requests and hysterical demands, because I know what I’m doing.  I can control myself.  The only intervention I require is that of public laud.

And they will come.  Droves and droves of adoring people, throwing their money and themselves at my feet, calling out my name in the collective voice of thousands and I’ll know that I’ve achieved what I’ve planned in this dreary little room.  I’ll be vindicated at last and set upon Mount Olympus while the rest of you scratch your heads.

So, stop nagging and get out! And take all the rest of your small-mindedness with you.  I’m being called to a higher purpose and will commune using whatever vehicle I find and won’t be hampered by the needs of the body.  It’s nothing compared to the glories which I see in my head.



Posted in musings, social commentary, writing with tags , , , , , , , on August 13, 2009 by kimmy

Don’t be caught with your pants down!  Deny everything.  There’s no crime in backpedalling and re-imagining the facts; it’s the most popular pasttime in the US.

Just think of the possibilities. . . reconstructing entire years of your life, alternate explanations for your behavior, re-assignment of fault, disposal of responsibility. . . don’t they just make your mouth water?  Finally, you can take charge and repaint yourself in more favorable light.

Gone are those days wasted in brutal self-examination.  Instead, think of yourself as a practical impressionist, sketching wildly imaginative self-portraits, each one crazier than the next.  Who cares if it’s a mess of indeciferable colors and themes?  A statement that bold and unintelligible is sure to delight art circles.

No longer will you languish, a prisoner of conscience.  Throw it all away!  Take up your rightful place as a member of the guerilla narcisissists and pledge to defeat all idealogues.  Those namby-pambies make us all look bad; aren’t you just sick of their convictions?  No doubt that when we have routed them by our sheer numbers, they will recant and enlarge our ranks.  It’s up to us to force them to eschew the Middle Way and to adopt proper self-seeking, without which we might never identify the bad from the goody two shoes.

And when you’ve finished slashing your way through the facts, when your friends, family and colleagues are all scratching their heads, stop and observe all you’ve accomplished.  Relish the skewed vision and destruction left in your wake.  These are the moments that only the truly self-absorbed can appreciate.


Posted in musings, personal, social commentary with tags , , , , , on August 12, 2009 by kimmy

You’re not fooling anybody.  Do you really think you can maintain the status quo by pretending not to see the mess in front of you?  What kind of twisted logic has brought you here . . . the type that conveniently fits into your preconceived delusion, or the one that completely excuses you from interacting with others?

No, I’m not talking to the idiot standing next to you.  At least that poor soul had the courage to own his actions.  What about yours?  Are you planning to let them lay and deny all responsibility? 

I don’t blame you if you do.  What could be more disheartening than unpleasant personal discoveries?  The shock alone could set you back and rekindle your appetite for self-destruction.  What a naughty creature you are!  says that voice, spinning round and round in your head.  Maybe you ought to follow its advice and indulge in a few more destructive habits.  You’ve earned the moniker, haven’t you?  Might as well live it, too.  Who could fault you for giving in to temptation?  Self-pity is such a succulent fruit.

Go ahead. . . pick it from the tree.  I won’t tell anyone.  They’ll have to torture me before I reveal your secret.  But then, I’d rather face an entire panel of interrogators than the one to which you’re forced to listen.  Your Grand Inquisitor is more devious.  What could be more fiendishly effective than using your weakness to his advantage?

Consider the bait.   You’re given a glimpse of what lies beyond and it fills you with joy, the kind you have rarely experienced since becoming an adult.  As you reach for it, you’re suddenly snared in a net of your own making.  All your self-doubts, malingering ties and paralyzing fears converge and render you powerless.  The more you struggle, the tighter the mesh becomes, until at last,  it squeezes the last breath from you.  You curse your captor, blaming him for your plight, but all he does is laugh.  He’s done virtually nothing, except watch you strangle yourself.