Static, all we're hitting is static. A dial tone. Fuzz. Vocal fuzz. Nothing there but a disconnection. It once said for us to listen. It once yearned to listen. It once encouraged us to listen. It once came down to make us listen. Now we're sitting earless. Disconnected, unplugged from the sockets of emotion. Too bad, I guess, the fact that we've lost sensation.
We're losing the ability to feel, because now we've become dependent upon nameless substances. A rape of emotion, you know. Pop a pill and it's an instantaneous happiness or grief, and once we're weened onto it, we can't create feeling on our own. Once we're hooked, we need it to feel.
I understand, we're just creating good sensations for ourselves to experience, because life is just a mess and a tangle of experiences, but listen, we're supposed to be creating these on our own, not chemically altering ourselves to make them happen. Life happens on its own.
Disconnected from feeling. Disconnected from what you used to be. Just stop.
All we're getting is static.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ Placebo is probably ending the show in Orlando as I'm typing this... and I'm stuck here. Fuck.
According to my sitemeter, someone on a Tri Tech server (or whatever) viewed 82 of my pages. I just wanted to reach out to that person and say, "Heh... I can't sit and read that much of my own diary. Thanks, and hun, aren't you tired?"