The curse

Before I begin, let me tell you that I haven't grown estranged to the tiny following that I had: I've simply had issues involving comment moderation (settings being modified without my consent), meaning no comments have been publishing. RAC lives and breathes, invigorated by its minuscule group of passers-by that it dares to call a fanbase! I can sense the vibes, the energy coursing through its veins and pumping at its heart. Yes..YES! LIVE, MY BABY! LIIIIVVEE!

Erm, yes.

Citation
Artist: Audioslave
Track: The Curse
Album: Out of Exile

You'll come to be cognizant that these titles will pose a striking resemblance to their respective entries as a whole. So what exactly is "the curse"? It is an amorphous, abstract phenomenon; it's but a concept that hits you like an apparition, spouts its putrid terror and happily observes as you writhe in its sinister, lingering grip. I'll give you three guesses.

Nope.

Nope.

Close, but no.

It's life. Life is a curse. No, life is the curse that plagues us all. It is so very upsetting that life is a fact of death, and that we must all suffer beneath it until we finally succumb to the skies of eternal rest. Or, less poetically, life's a bitch and then you die. Life brings with it many symptoms and side-effects, including boredom, depression, insomnia, hunger, thirst, more boredom, work, heartbreak, debt, fear, addiction, disease, injury, disappointment and..more boredom. There is a plus or two though: identifying a sufferer isn't too tricky - if they're alive then it's a pretty safe bet - and it is also easily remedied with a swift stab in the back. Oh yeah, backstabbing could be added to the list as well.

I would make a class case study for analysis of this condition, as I have quite a cantankerous strain. Life has tightly clasped me with no route to recovery. Because of this, my existence is comprised of stumbling out of bed, smashing the alarm clock into the "off" position, eating a gargantuan bowl of cheap-Kellogg's-spoof cereal, considering dressing, not dressing, daydreaming for a few minutes (sometimes substituted for an Xbox 360 session), hearing complaints about the lack of walking of dogs from dad, considering dressing, not dressing, turning on the PC, checking Black0ps, checking Wikipedia, checking Last.fm, checking the blog, running Final Fantasy XI, beginning gaming on FFXI, receiving strident earfuls from dad about said canine, begrudgingly dressing, walking so-excited-I'm-about-to-burst mutts, hurling profanities at his excrement, arriving back home, moping around, returning to FFXI to discover the connection has timed out, reconnecting, being engrossed for hours on end, becoming hungry, fetching luxurious oat snack bars, scattering crumbs on (and in) the keyboard, becoming thirsty, switching mini coolers on, drinking cans of soda before they've had a chance to cool (defeating the purpose of the appliance), rendezvousing with Ed on FFXI, leading us or being led to our humorous deaths on FFXI, retrying, repeating the previous occurrence, desiring a bullet through the skull, greeting mums that are home, fending off questions about how the day has been, fessing up that the day was blessed by perfunctory routine, asking what will be for dinner, not being granted a response, scuttling downstairs, asking what will be for dinner, incurring derogatory remarks about my persistence and being told that the answer is unknown, rummaging through the freezer for ideas, suggesting pizza, being declined, suggesting something with chips, being declined, passing the point of caring, marching upstairs, discovering FFXI has timed out, logging back in, exchanging quips of sarcasm with Ed, being informed that dinner is served, finding out that it's curry, igniting my tongue, picking out the onions, vainly making to extinguish the flames on my tongue, finishing the meal, scooping out dollops of ice cream from the freezer, ravenously devouring them, refusing to place my dirty dishes in the dishwasher, receiving scowls, putting them in, trotting back upstairs, discovering FFXI has ti-...being too nonchalant to give a monkey's, watching Eastenders, retrieving cream crackers from the cupboard, spreading butter on them, crunching them, pouring a glass of water with which to take fish oil supplements, swallowing them, feeling more brainy instantaneously, re-attuning myself to FFXI, playing mindlessly for further hours, glancing at the clock displaying 4am, exiting FFXI, contemplating blogging, usually refuting the prospect of even constructing a viable sentence let alone a multiple-hundred-word account, changing into pyjamas, daydreaming a little, plonking myself into bed, stirring, and drifting off to sleep.

The curse at its finest. Longest sentence ever? Let's not push it, but I do feel a dot of triumph.

That's my piece. If your brain hasn't splattered against the walls by now then any more would without doubt finish the job. Next time? Well, I'll be collecting my GCSE results on Thursday (crikey, that's tomorrow), so after I've been given confirmation that I've flunked every subject and have no future, I'll be sure to drop in.