The Scribble

I sit here at my computer utterly inable to accomplish anything.
I haven't figured out the answer to the universe, reduced all literature to two words, or made any breakthroughs in any field of merit.
No, I sit here in a private revolution, where no love can exist but lust abounds. I sit here where nobody loves their life. Nobody can love their life, because of the life I have chosen. I have chosen a life with an already prescribed result: I will toil away on my work for years and years to die alone, unhappy, and poor, only to have these scribbles unearthed fifty years after my passing and have some bloke exclaim "Oh! How clever!" and be awarded a posthumous Pulitzer, complete with cult following and the least flattering photograph of me ever taken emblazoned on all of the notable history texts of the moment.
"Don't let your ego blot out the sun", you think. Well why not? If you could access my thoughts for five minutes, your head would actually explode, and then all of the thoughts would be free to roam, wouldn't they? A breath of fresh air, as far as I'm concerned.
When was the last time anyone wrote anything worth reading? All the great litearture of today involves a fantastical world with a tween love story, a la emo kid college o' Shakespeare. Or the writings of the hipper-than-thou indie children, with literary devices and obscure allusions superimposed to the point of absurdity. Take your stories straight up. Do you actually realize how hard it is to get drunk on wine cooler?
But I suppose you need to try. You need to try, beacuse if nobody gets drunk, no words will ever flow again. Get so drunk that you slip and cut yourself on the bar and all the ladies in the room make that "Awwww" noise. Get so drunk that you can break a beer bottle on your head and not care, because hey, everyone that is watching you is hiding anyways. They are all embarrased with themselves, holding their shame in that shoebox underneath the bed and trying to cover their scars, because after this life, their stories will never be retold.

A prophetic and dramatic way to approve drinking.