Notes from my underground

Blog commenters.
God bless them!

From comments are born some of my questionably “great” ideas; and also from them, some of my looniest habits take root.

This comment was both hilarious but strangely oozing of synchronicity as well.

you make Notes from the Underground look like an upbeat Tony Robbins seminar

Funny shit.

Besides supplying me with a good laugh, the comment also triggered a flicker of deja vu in my memory. Notes From The Underground. Hmm.
Yes.

Why you see, last month I finally overcame my own personal resistance and trudged over to my ex-wife’s house (really, my ex-house, shouldn’t it be called?) and braved the dusty garage to sort through boxes filled with books I left behind when I moved out 6 years ago. I just needed to move the fuck out and lugging a small library’s worth of books was last on my agenda.

Recently my ex-wife decided to give her garage a thorough cleaning. This involved moving all my ex-junk to one side of my ex-garage where it waited patiently for my sentimental ass’s return. Tons of books. No way I could keep them all. I sorted through hundreds of them and left most to be donated to the library or other groups serving the needy in need of reading enjoyment.

Out of all those books, I kept handful for myself. One of them happened to be:

It’s been ages since I read this book.

From its stark opening words…
I am a sick man…I am a spiteful man. An unattractive man. I think my liver hurts.
…thus begins a self-agonized tale of alienation and estrangement.

Lovely stuff.

I’m going to re-read this and perhaps, maybe, somehow, doing so will enable me to somehow add another dimension to Phoenixism.

An extra layer of despair.
It’s possible.

Maybe I’ll even quote occasional inspirational passages from the bleak tome.

Good times.