The End of the World.
One minute, you can be innocently picking through the "Palahniuk" shelf of your local bookstore, and the next you can be pondering over if you're a Messiah, or some shit.
Basically, I think I'm going crazy, and I should stop reading this kind of stuff, it's giving me ideas.
I opened up a book, and in the first page of it (Survivor, for those of you who are curious), a paper fell out. Plain, boring, copy paper. For a moment I can see Edward Norton, bruised and seemingly broken, sneaking around the copy room trying to keep coffee from spilling out of his cheek and onto the fax machine, then I start reading. The first line, "[you're invited to:]", now, that's just intruiging, am I right?
"the end of the world party"
Shit. Now, that just gets me philosophical, really.
I stuffed it back in the book, and bought it. I ran to the bathroom when I got home, and read the whole thing. You can't really read it, you scrounge for words and try to read between the lines because the font is so squished and so faded you can't truly find all the words. Though, the last bit is clear,
"sincerely, cassandra"
Just like that. I don't know. The feeling of finding something like this, it makes me think. Kind of like all the books I end up reading. I read the weird books no one else I know likes.
Finding shit like this, it makes me think, which for my sanity, really isn't the best thing to be doing.
Finding shit like this, gives me a Messiah-like aura, so really, I should stop reading it all. It makes me write like this, write this kind of stuff. I have a different style, I have a different mindset and worldly path.
I really should stop reading this shit.
But it gives me that easy going feeling. So ya know what, if I find a party to the end of the world, I'll be the hippest person there.
