Will the real Gatsby, please stand up.

I’ve been doing this thing lately. It’s called College, spending time with a girl that I really like, and hanging with the one friend I have left in this world. The last one I’ve been neglecting in some fashion for a while, but its only because the first two drain me of all physical energy and bodily fluids.

You get to a point in your life when you start stopping and thinking about just how tired you are. I walk from my car parked in the Pierce Parking lot to my class, and I think to myself, Jesus three hours to go, I’m going to get there, and sit down, and have the teacher talk random gibberish for 20 minutes, take roll for 10 minutes, and then teach me some stuff I will proceed to pack into the debris that is my mind.

Writers, we think we are so good at getting this stuff across to the average Joe, just describing the challenge or blessing that everyday life is, but who are we kidding. We are all just artists trying, constantly trying, constantly coming up short in our own views, until we die. People say we have our Gatsby’s, but when everyone agrees that they are, except us, then are they really our hotel California?

We keep advancing, with technology, new ways to do things, make existing errands easier, but we just never come even remotely close to a utopia.

I lie there on top of her body, and I push myself inside her, not worrying about just maybe the never-ending consequence that even the slightest residue of my members will have on my life. I do this, completely and totally in the moment.

We think we are getting better, but we are really just getting better at denying how shitty it all is.

One thought on “Will the real Gatsby, please stand up.

  1. Dearest Nicholai,
    It’s been a long while and I wish what I am about to say would be more poetic than its going to turn out to be, but I wanted to comment on what you said. First, because well I love reading what you have to say, and to try to understand what’s going on in little( or big Im not really sure;) Nicholai’s life. But sincerely you are incredible with words and using them to bring the audience into seeing and feeling as you do. It’s pretty cool, vulnerable, and hott all at the same time. I really should be sleeping. Its way past my bedtime but Im almost too excited to sleep. Why? Because it’s raining. I love letting the rain lull me to sleep and it is just that perfect steady drull of pit pat on my window and I love it. I love a good rain, at first I loved it to get a good 8 mile run in earlier today. Breathe and feel and inhale and love the gray day, the cool rain, keeping you cool, focused, blurred vision, but sharp mind and heart. But right now in this moment, I love the rain because I get the coziest feeling when Im inside and its all wet outside. I feel so lucky to have a roof over my head. If you’ve got a roof over your head to protect you from a cold rain, then Nicholai, it just can’t be that shitty, it really can’t. I start to feel shitty though because I, just like just about everyone, turn my good fortune on myself, and start wondering why I get the roof over my head, what did I do to deserve the roof over my head when the guy down the street has lived for much longer, endured so much more, and doesn’t get the roof over his/her homeless head. Not fair, and then my warm feeling quickly disappears and a I start feeling like a spoiled rotten brat and then I am gripped with fear, fear, that I might go to sleep and wake up next to homeless guy and realize I have no roof anymore. It’s really scary and I know whatever we have can go from us in a heartbeat’s time. But sorry I am getting sidetracked…
    As for the “how shitty it all is” comment. I just wanted to say that how I see it, is life just is. It let’s be. It’s neither shitty nor grand, neither upside down nor right side up, twisted or poised, lovely or haggard, destitute or rich; life, rather, just is. It’s as it always has been, is, and will be. We think therefore we are, but life, on the other hand, doesn’t think it just does or be s. So where does the it’s all shit comment fit in to this schema of mine? You look at the water one day and to you it looks shit brown, but to the guy next to you who is looking at the exact same spot of water, well to him it looks like the deepest richest badass blue there is, and he can’t quite keep smiling and laughing and brimming with life, gloating over just how damn beautiful the water is. You have two options you can punch the shit out of him until you get him to see how you see it, until his world turns black and blue, or your other option, is you ask him for help.; you can ask him/her if he wouldn’t mind sharing those eyes, his vision with you and maybe you get to hear a story or learn a thing or two on how to start seeing the water blue instead of brown the next time. He might not be able to tell you directly, and im not saying its easy, but if you work on it, you too can probably start to put your own beautiful color on the water too. Or another way to see it, is some days the water looks one color like a rainy grey day vs its color below red, golden sunset. See the water doesn’t change color, but the light we shed on it, the light we use to see the water, that’s in our power, so if you have the power to make it shitty, then you just as equally have the power to make it beautiful, if you want, when you are ready. As for me, sometimes, I see brown and I like brown, I love pain almost as much as I love love, because it means I am still alive, it means im a being with emotion and feeling any emotion to me is better than none, brown’s still a color so though it may not be pretty at least there’s color. You see what I am saying? It’s very stupid sounding talking about water and color, but I am not the writer you are, so it’s just going to have to be as it sounds. Alright, this insomniac here, is going to try something new for a while, I think it’s called sleep. Night, night, Nicholai.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s