Mysteries we don't quite understand.....

  I’m starting to wonder about things again and when I wonder about things… well….. Stuff seems to come out of my head.  On this day, the twenty ninth of July, in the mid tenure of my thirty fifth year of life, in the year 2013, I am wondering about the nature of bloodlines and the various destinies they send us off on that obstacle course known as life.  How do some of us grow up to conquer the world and amass great wealth and privilege?  How do some of us kind of schlep along trying to desperately to unlock the doors to the dreams and or the life that they want?  I’m a schlepper, I know that.  I’m a schelepper with a love life that is akin to all the neurosis of a Woody Allen film.  I generally hate the human race and I have not the energy, coming off a rather painful end to a long term relationship, to go to the old romantic lumber yard and build myself another romantic house.  I was in a long term relationship but now I don’t want another relationship because I just want the unsophisticated simplicity of sex without connection.  Where do these contradictions come from?  Was I born with them or did I pick them up somewhere along the way?  My love affair with food, now that I get it.  I love food it because it was my mother’s favorite parental panacea.  And I hate food because I resembled a young John Candy during my adolescence.  That and the fact that my male parental unit took daily notes on my caloric intake when I was a wee youngin.  But where did the fucked up part of my psyche come from?  Did I inherit it or did it manifest itself during that strange McInerney like abyss known as my twenties.  I actually enjoyed the world when I was drugging and boozing, if you can believe that.  And then I met a good woman and I got sober and I turned into a fucking misanthrope of epic proportions; I settled into my Shrek like existence if you will.  I just wanted to be on my swamp with my Fiona.  But then Fiona went away and I ended up having meaningless sex with a woman who thinks/thought she was gay.  Maybe it’s not my wiring at all.  Maybe I was just born a selfish self entitled prick and I just grew larger.  I can accept this, in light of the fact that I’ve known for awhile that I am, for all intensive purposes, an insufferable lush of the highest order.  Maybe I shouldn’t examine things so much.  Maybe I just be grateful for the handful of women who actually want to sleep with me and the few members of the human race who can actually tolerate me for more than a nanosecond at a time.  I’d tell you I’m a really loveable chap but why bullshit you good people.  I am the proverbial porcupine.  I poke, therefore, I am.  A few people have been jabbed by my quills and are still speaking to me and a few unfriended me on facebook and took the road of not acknowledging my existence.  And then I walked along the desert with my quills up and after a few moments of reflection, I decided I was to apathetic to actually give a flying fuck.  So there it is, the mystery continues.  Where oh where did this miserable lush spring from?  Why is he afraid of intimacy and why does he swear like a Mafioso?  Was this my destiny when I sailed out of the womb or did I build this long and winding road myself?