If I could focus on everything the way I did on getting girls home I would rule the solar system by now. For about four hours a week I am capable of smooth improvisation and Napoleonic warfare tactics. Unshakable resolve. Biological desperation or something. All this time and willpower wasted on girls who take selfies will horrify me when I’m older.
But then there’s the rest of my life, which…well fuck it, the cause is lost. It’s like someone stuck a Remington duty shotgun in my ear and gave it to me with both barrels. My mind has atrophied in the post-grad vacuum. Too much dopamine. My head is stuffed with cotton candy. Facebook distracts me from the Daily Show clip which had previously distracted me from Drake’s Wikipedia page, which I was on because I wanted to see if he was older than me; he is. Good, now I don’t feel so bad for being unsuccessful at 27. Today I tried to read an Atlantic article about cheap oil prices without skimming and I asked myself what the thesis was at the end. I didn’t know. I had to read it again. I couldn’t. I blinked and suddenly was reading something about Trevor Noah making fun of fat chicks on Twitter. I skimmed that article too–and it wasn’t even an article, it was just a pile of screengrabs. I also had a podcast running the whole time underneath the chaos. This is very bad. The presence of intellect knocks me to my knees like a Nazi who just looked at the Ark. I’m friends with too many vapid-headed apparitions. Insubstantial fuckheads. You know, people like me.
Need to focus more. Must read more books, need to reacquire critical thinking skills. Before it’s too late. Before I drive any more intelligent conversations off a cliff. I need to hire an Iraq vet to follow me around with a Beretta pressed into the soft spot at the base of my skull. Make me stop splitting my willpower between six things at once. I’d tell him not to actually shoot me, but with PTSD you never know what could happen. Until then I’m on Wikipedia, seeing if Trevor Noah is older than me; he is. Good, now I don’t feel so bad. I will keep doing this as long as I’m unsuccessful. So, for the rest of my life then.