So is it a feeling that somewhere, somebody is out to get you, a feeling that somewhere, something is out to get you, or somewhere, somethings are out to get you?
Is it a specific paranoia (for instance, that a four-headed demon from the next galaxy is stalking you) or more just a generalised fear? If the former, obviously stocking up on the number of lasers and tin-foil hats is the solution. I guess lasers would work in the latter as well. Who knows?
Not sure, I've lost the moment/s. It's settled into a nice pointless anxiety now. I strongly suspect that both are related to my working conditions and my inability to continue lying to people and being constantly yelled at for things that have very little to do with me. Gee, wonder what about that might make me paranoid. In short, holidays got me out of the habit of working and now that I'm back I can't cope with the same old shit. Lasers would be nice.
I'm not sure that I'd describe pointless anxiety as nice, but then again, it does have a romantic association with generic existentialist ennui. And Auden wrote a verse play called 'The Age of Anxiety', so one would assume he had nice things to say about it.
Come live with me and be my love And we will all the neuroses prove...
8 comments:
Uh oh doesn't sound good, has the internet and real life collided?
No. I don't think the internet and real life are going to collide.
Reality, however, is proving a bit of a bitch.
So is it a feeling that somewhere, somebody is out to get you, a feeling that somewhere, something is out to get you, or somewhere, somethings are out to get you?
Is it a specific paranoia (for instance, that a four-headed demon from the next galaxy is stalking you) or more just a generalised fear?
If the former, obviously stocking up on the number of lasers and tin-foil hats is the solution. I guess lasers would work in the latter as well. Who knows?
Not sure, I've lost the moment/s. It's settled into a nice pointless anxiety now.
I strongly suspect that both are related to my working conditions and my inability to continue lying to people and being constantly yelled at for things that have very little to do with me. Gee, wonder what about that might make me paranoid.
In short, holidays got me out of the habit of working and now that I'm back I can't cope with the same old shit.
Lasers would be nice.
I'm not sure that I'd describe pointless anxiety as nice, but then again, it does have a romantic association with generic existentialist ennui. And Auden wrote a verse play called 'The Age of Anxiety', so one would assume he had nice things to say about it.
Come live with me and be my love
And we will all the neuroses prove...
The love-poetry of the generation, perhaps?
Surely pointless anxiety trumps gross paranoia?
Frighteningly, I think that this, 'Come live with me and be my love/And we will all the neuroses prove...' may be my parents' love song.
I prefer the pleasures prove version. Still, shepherds..?
Even better,
Come live with me and be my love
And we will all the displeasures prove.
I think I saw a movie like that once...
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