apathy has become me

today is a day for apathy. have you ever been overwhelmed by a feeling of lack of interest in all human interaction around you? my brain is so lethargic today--my brain is the hippopotamus staring into the blistering horizon and occasionally a little bird will come a-peck-pecking on the rough hide of my back. as you can easily predict, i turn my head not one micron.

last night was another chapter in a book entitled, "The Slow and Tortuous Defeat of J. M. Kass Brought About By Failure in All Things Romantic, told in infinite volumes." the volumes are infinite because, just as you read the closing lines of one volume and are enticed into believing the climax may just come in the next (which would preceed the descending action and conclusion in any story following the old rules of literature), you find yourself reading the same scenes again, though the people and place names are different. yet i drag this tired body on, through unforgiving deserts of lonesome twirling duststorms and prickly plants with arms reaching in ironic embrace. i am sure Borges could have written an excellent commentary on my imaginary novel. he would have been delighted with its infinitude and would have inserted multiple references to labyrinths.

we at work are going out for a few drinks under the towering shadow of the Empire State Building, just blocks from our workplace. perhaps reintroducing my body to alcohol after their twenty-four hour separation will jumpstart my seratonin. is it better to feel like a rotting log full of decaying wood and grubs, or a hollow log air-blown dry by hot winds? a man who found himself more frightened than ever before said this: "i may never love again."