Karaoke

Taking brief respite from Matthias' 21st in UCC. Was finding the atmosphere in the Last Drop a tad irritating, so I left for a breath of fresh air and gravitated here, salmon-like. Damn, it was way too crowded tonight. Too crowded to talk, too crowded to do anything much but sing karaoke or play pool, or dance. I wasn't drunk enough for the third thing, whatever joy might have been gained from the second had been stifled by the presence of overwhelmingly better players on the tables, and the first thing was a no-go because (a) they didn't have the song I wanted to sing (Shivers by the Boys Next Door) and (b) there was a forty-minute queue that by about ten minutes after I arrived had extended to finish the night. Whinge, blah, whinge. I don't understand myself sometimes, but currently I have this feeling that something I was quite looking forward to has fallen totally flat.

I might head down to the waterfront for a while before I go back to the Drop. I'm going to need a couple of hours before I'll be sober enough to drive though. Whinge, blah, whinge.

This human form, where I was born,
I now repent .... caribou! Caribou!
The Pixies, 'Caribou'

My appellation for Chris Coman, 'Comanski', has gained a certain minor currency. Feel somewhat pleased by this. What I feel is probably one jot of the feeling one has if one ever creates or achieves something so significant it will resonate through the centuries. Since I will (probably - let's not entirely discount the possibility, that would be a little maudlin, and strangely (yes, strangely) I don't feel maudlin) never do this, I'm going to enjoy what little I have.

I'm sick of letting other people let me call the shots. Why do I have to call the shots? It occurs to one (me) occasionally that one doesn't (I didn't) actually have personal characteristics to begin with. Other people just randomly give them (have just randomly given them) to you (me). (You decide whether any of the above also applies to you, gentle reader. I wouldn't want to imply that you were anything like me, I'm sure that'd be quite offensive (possibly to both of us)). Hence those that I have apparently acquired: meanness, cynicism, lack of motivation (this needs a one word encapsulation that's less clunky (and less probably nonexistent) than unmotivatedness (Ecch!)), intelligence (hah! Don't give me some 'top five per cent' nonsense. I don't think I've ever met anyone who was in the top five per cent of anything!), a tendency towards schadenfreude (don't know if I spelt that correctly). In any case, I don't really remember being any of those things before people repeatedly told me that I was. And I don't think that's due to a lack of perspective. After all, I've always had lots of perspective, you get that when you're tall (hah!). Actually, tallness is another personal characteristic that I'm fairly sure I was just given as well. It's disgusting, those other people ('Damn them!' he intones. 'Damn them all!') control the physical world (which exists only as the individual perceives it (it can be argued)) as well.

Have been reading Crime and Punishment with great enjoyment. Can't help but think I'm a little like Raskolnikov (obviously not as good-looking) although it's somewhat unlikely I'd ever kill anyone. Still it's a brilliant study of secrets and guilt. I know certain other people who I think should read it. Points of similarity include the whole unmotivated student bit, the fact that our darling Raskolnikov relies, and hates to rely, on the generosity of a family that would probably be better off without him (OK, maybe that's a little harsh, I don't think even 'I' (what is 'I' anyway ... wow, profound ... not) think that), the whole slight insanity, self-importance, personal conviction of own peculiarity thing. Suffice it to say that I empathise with the fellow anyway.

I've noticed (with some surprise) that there are a lot of people in this world who are more relentlessly negative than I am. My current theory: having incredibly low expectations in every situation makes your life a rollercoaster-ride through a candyland of things being better than you thought they would be. All those people knocking around in a state of constant disappointment that they're not movie stars or space cadets of megarich society or flying on clouds should take a leaf out of my book for a change.

(Since this addition to the Brain of Entro has a plethora of parenthetical remarks, it seems fitting that it should include a parenthetical paragraph. Parentheses could be argued to be a sign of weak-mindedness - a tendency to fail to express what one thinks succinctly and clearly. I'm addicted to them, though, so I'd prefer not to think that. Let's call my indecisiveness a positive rather than a negative. End of post.)