Bored.

I'm bored

I feel twisted like a sheet in the dryer. Wound up by my activities and dried out by the vapid uselessness of same.

I'm the chairman of the bored,
I'm a lengthy monologue
I'm livin' like a dog
I'm bored

Suddenly an event that meant nothing is canceled and I can't figure out what bothers me more, that it was so worthless to begin with or that not having the worthless business fill my schedule makes me even more wretchedly frustrated.

I bore myself to sleep at night
I bore myself in broad daylight coz
I'm bored
Just another slimy bore

What sets me apart from every other bastard in the lives of my friends? I used to have an entire catalogue of unique features. Now I'm boiled down to "ruder and more demanding than most."

What kind of life is that?

I'm free to bore my well-bought friends
And spend my cash until the end coz
I'm bored
I'm bored

I don't mind spending the money, lord knows I don't need it, but I can't help but feel that the fact that it is spent happily might be lost behind a larger subtext that I don't want or need: that if not for the work I do and the money I spend, I wouldn't be worth the patience that is required to spend time with me.

I'm the chairman of the board
I'm sick
I'm sick of all my kicks
I'm sick of all the stiffs
I'm sick of all the dips
I'm bored

And meanwhile my friends seem to come in and out of focus around me like an auto-focus lens gone haywire. Who matters? Who doesn't care? Why would someone I thought valued me as a brother avoid me like the plague? Why would someone who should be independent become more and more dependent on me?

I bore myself to sleep at night
I bore myself in broad daylight coz
I'm bored
I'm bored
Just another dirty bore

And into this glorious mix of self pity and loathing, add a dose of guilt and a strong temptation to just crawl back into my previous hole and snarl at passerby. As Kate would say from French Kiss "no, that would be the old me. . ." and yet, it would be so painless now, and so very, very, easy.

All right doll-face
Come on and bore me
I'm sick
I'm sick of all my kicks
I'm sick of all the stiffs
I'm sick of all the dips
I'm sick
I'm sick when I go to sleep at night
I'm still sick in the broad daylight coz
I'm bored
I'm bored

And does the simpering, whining and frustration really help one iota in the long run? No. Of course not. I can't stand when others do it around me, and I can't stand when I do it myself. I keep my frustration nonspecific because I refuse to complain--but I could. For the first time in a long time I actually have things that concern, worry, and bother me, and I'm almost unsure how to deal with that--I'm so used to coasting quietly by on the contentment I drew from not sharing in the misfortunes of others.

I'm the chairman of the. . .
BORED!

And despite access to a dozen earthly delights, I can't help but know that something's missing, and the sick part is. . . I even know the name.

Lyrics by: Iggy Pop - I'm Bored