The becoming

I have my own ‘The Downward Spiral’ gig right now. Watching NIN and Rob Sheridan’s gig videos on Twitter was painful. They played the entire Spiral album from beginning to end in New York. Thanks, Rob, for telling me what I’m missing out on. You call it epic; I say damn.

See you again live when I’m in my mid-30s. Damn! Envy can kill you on the inside. Suppose I’m not a hardcore fan like the Americans. Al Jourgensen played three hours with Ministry during their Farewell tour. Three hours in each fucking city. That’s insane.

Is it about the money or the fans?

I just ruined my favourite Bukowski shirt that I always wear for bed. It’s a medium-size for boys, so rather wide. The sleeve got caught on the fucking doorknob and tore a hole. I was pissed, so I pulled harder until I ripped the sleeve. I regret it now. That flow of anger was overwhelming too. It was almost a metaphorical moment.

You know when things are bad, and you have this urge to make it worse?

Well, there was a trigger for this. Before the shirt incident, my mum had put the (dead) Bonsai plant on my table. (You remember the Bonsai plant from my other blog post.) She said, “Let’s be realistic…this plant is dead!”

I looked at the dry brown leaves and the flower soil, which I had never fertilized. Why? Because I have no idea how to do it. Why? Because I never researched it. Why? Because I couldn’t be bothered.

It was supposed to be a present for their silver anniversary. Both of them refused to take care of the plant. Suppose I didn’t care either. I was disappointed in myself. I had done nothing except for watering it (and probably overwatered it). Do you still think I care?

My current favourite song on the album is ‘Ruiner,’ I’m not sure why. I guess it’s the line that goes, “nothing can hurt me…nothing can stop me now.” These lines strike a chord in me like a demon controlling the angry flow within me. Ten years ago, I probably would have cried in bed. But it’s more than just sadness.

I’d better stop before ‘A Warm Place’ mellows me out. What I would write during that song would knock you out. No need to mention Hurt.’

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