"Living Your $%!@ Life"

This is why I need to END cable: browsing last night we end up watching Oprah’s new show, whatever-the-fuck “The New Oprah” or something similarly inane and it’s her interviewing Sean Penn in fucking Haiti, amidst shacks and amputees and she’s fucking asking him about his divorce and “famous” temper.

There are fucking hundreds of thousands of people that are dead and buried surrounding this place, and Oprah decides the most important thing to discuss is his fucking sex life.

And she has the balls to ask him if he “sees god in all of this.” And like a good agnostic he explains how he is equally pissed when people claim to “know” there is a god or “know” there is NOT a god and just when I am thinking I could get to like this guy he goes off on a fucking tangent about seeing intelligent-fucking-design in a LEAF. Recognizing that he’s not going to go on about how Jesus saved Haiti, Oprah cuts him off, wam-bang, commercial time.

What the fuck is wrong with all of us?

The saddest part about all of this is I am still left with some common phrase of hers which she must interject in every show about “living your best life” and all I can think of as I sit in front of a blank page this morning staring at the monitor waiting for signs that the kiddoo has awakened is that “what the fuck does THAT matter?” What choice do most people have to “live their best life?” We are lucky if we can eke out some free time in our day to stare at the walls or click furiously through the internet and we are among those with fucking roofs over our heads. How the fuck can you even bring up the term “live your best life” surrounded by squalor and dead bodies and amputees and children whose next meal in all likelihood will drop from the sky in a parachute?

All I can selfishly think of this morning with any amount of coherent intelligence is the fact that the child has now decided 6 a.m. is a great time to be awake and I may lose my one hour of the day to spout angry diatribes at the world. How despicable is that?

It just makes me realize that when I had the time to create — when I had all the fucking time in the world to make something out of all of this resentment at the world, I instead must have been jerking off (figuratively, literally, it matters little).

Which just means that this small salary of “free play” needs to be used to one-hundred-fucking-percent of its full potential.

Did I succeed this morning???

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