When It's Cold I'd Like to Die

by K. G. Laurence

  "Oh really? I was just kidding around Jack! I know who Cho-pan is... Well, I knew it was classical! I have heard the name before!"

  "You never listened?"

  "I. No."

  "You should Amanda, you know, you really should."

  "I suppose I like music with more... energy!"

  "Well, in that case you know there's nothing more energetic than classical music! you're missing out."

  "You sound like a musician at heart, tell me Jack, do you play any instruments?"

  "I... suppose I used to play the piano, I guess, back when I was a kid, but I never kept at it, in fact, come to think about it, I haven't played or even thought about it in years... but uh, what about you?"

  "Me? Oh no! ...hm, well, to be honest I used to play the flute way back in the school band, but my gosh, that was years ago! So don't you go telling anyone about that, ok?!"

  *Door opens*

  "Goodnight, Jack. Take care, I'll see you soon!"

  "Goodnight Amanda! It was great talking with you!"

  *Door shuts*

  *Sound of door unlocking, opening*

  Well, I'm back home...

  Wow! look at the time! Unbelievable, I can't even believe all that time past! but she's so easy to talk to! my mind wasn't running in circles after a while either. I'm really glad I went. Really!

  THIRTY THREE

  I feel pretty good! all things considered recently.

  I know... famous last words right? along with such classic lines as "Hey, look! it's not even loaded!"

  Still, I'm sitting here in my pink living room, laying on my black leather sofa, sipping on gin with ice and lime, ah, sweet alcoholic goodness! from such miserable truths you unburden me! that, and I'm nearly halfway through the incredible first movement of Beethoven's 7th Symphony! as it delightfully drowns out all that other so-called "music" in the air today. Although, I must admit that I am still feeling more than slightly annoyed lately, mainly due to feelings of both real and artistic impotence. Much more on the real later...

  For instance, artistically, I can't write as much as I used to, or even paint anymore, probably because of all the sodding antidepressants in my system that still have me feeling practically zombified, as well as having the unfortunate side effect of seemingly killing off my already tattered sex drive once and for all. My therapist conveniently never said anything of the sort about that now, did she? still, obviously, you can't spell therapist without "the rapist".

  However, it may just be a possible side effect of simply drinking too much when I'm not supposed to be? a combination of the medication and alcohol perhaps? ah, who cares? ...Farewell my libido! for I didn't need thee anyway!

  I want to spend today specifically meditating on art. First, as with anything, I need to start at the beginning, and so I need to ask myself "what is art?" and how, as an actual concept is it defined? let's look closer, and try to define it as an actuality before we start with the complaining, shall we?

  Art, in my humble opinion is any creative expression that can be captured, then quantified and juxtaposed into an existing medium... or even into one that doesn't yet exist... but I'm not too sure about that part of the definition yet, so let's leave that part ambiguous for now, and stay away from all the theoretical hubbub.

  Now, that I have that part out of the way, I ask. "What should an artist call his art?" and how deeply should it be a part of himself? should an artist be willing to die for his art? and is there a point where one can compromise too much of his work, in and of itself, so that it can no longer even be considered art, and therefore completely ceases to be so?

  For instance, why should artists have to watch what they say or create? Why?! just because some moron somewhere may see something great one fine day, and then promptly decides to blow either his, or someone else's idiot brains out? Or instead, and probably because this person has a minus-IQ mind you, he suddenly decides to take a running leap straight off a very high bridge somewhere for a quick "swim" ...or something that's equally as ridiculous. Now, is all that blatant stupidity really the artist's fault? Oh, but of course it is! because obviously in today's shallow and self-absorbed bad parody of a "culture" we live in, where you can't possibly admit your own mistakes, what I learned is that absolutely nobody whatsoever should ever be beholden to, or responsible for their own actions! Sure! ...and remember! "If it all goes horribly wrong, just blame it on someone else! Hey, it worked for me!" ...Really?! is that the way it's going to be from now on? Well, come on now!

  Anyway, let's be honest here, shall we? if they'd off themselves over a simple piece of media, then they probably wouldn't have got much further in life anyway!

  Ah, the glories of Natural selection... Social Darwinism at its finest! also, forget compromises, especially when it comes to art... or else it will no longer BE art!

  Besides, you can't create without influence, and there just isn't very much out there that really moves me anymore... hmm, maybe it's because around ninety percent of it is complete and utter shit now?? ...probably. Also, in this world only total hacks can make it as "artists" anymore, anyways.

  Personally, I blame teenage girls for that.

  I may no longer be able to create art very well, but like practically everything else that hasn't stopped me from sitting back and pissing and moaning about it! For me, such an event inevitably happens to pretty much everything I come across in life, if only by thinking about its basic function and existence, and all the various intricate ways of how fucking annoyed it can make me!

  Take the "artistic community" for example... pft! more like "autistic community" which has long ago become a full-blown parody of itself, in particular, most nomenclature aside, the so-called "High-end" "Fine art" or "Avant-garde" crowds...

  Trash such as "Black Fire I" or "Orange, Red, Yellow" more like boring, boring, boring, or pretty much anything by that literal garbage artist Jackson Pollock... and of course, how can I forget that complete drooling fucking idiot Ad Reinhardt? Listen, "Ad" it's black... it's not something particularly "deep" or "meaningful" No, it's just a black square, and it will always BE just a black-fucking-square!

  Ahem... "Oh, but dare I say, sir! that to grasp the actual emotional MEANING of the piece, you have to look at what the artist didn't paint! oh, but you must understand that! You see, it really is quite profound! What does it SAY? what does it MEAN? how does it make one FEEEEL?!"

  Well, for one thing, it's all massively overpriced bourgeois crap, and it makes me feel like crap simply by looking at it.. never mind realising afterwards that there are people in this world rich enough, and stupid enough to waste money on such things, when a large percentage of the earth population remains starving. Still... I suppose they didn't get rich caring about pointless things such as that now, did they? why certainly not! Oh, no, no, no! not when they have plywood boards to buy, dripping in haphazardly and badly sprayed acrylic paint! ...oops, tangent.

  Wait, maybe you mean how would it make me feel if I could, or would actually be stupid enough to buy one? Honestly, it would probably make me feel like I just wasted a hundred or so million on one of the most boring, and poorly made things I ever looked at... so I dunno? I'd probably feel miserable as shit and want to kill myself, yet again. So I guess I'd feel pissed off? yes, I think I'm going to go with pissed off!

  No matter how many ultra rich jack-offs choose to throw money at it in huge pointless pissing contests, artistically that crap could never compare to even a more mediocre effort by say, Bosch... John Martin... Francis Bacon, or for that matter a good Beksiński. Hell, I've even seen subway graffiti that's literally a thousand times better than most of that ersatz "Abstract Expressionism" shit, and hey, at least those guys tried!

  People don't buy art they buy names, and it's only because they're so stinking-fucking-rich that nobody has the balls to tell them how stupid they're all being!

  Thankfully though, most of that high value, low art crap was either stolen or lost back in The Collapse
. It's too bad though... some of the really good stuff went with it as well...

  Hmm, what's this? anger subsiding... do I need another drink perhaps? let's see... why yes, yes I do!

  Ah, Beethoven pouring out of my speakers, prescription drugs running through my brain, and alcohol fuelled rage in my belly...

  ...All's right with the world!

  THIRTY FOUR

  I spent most of the day today whacking-it.

  Well, this came out of nowhere... heh.. "came out..."

  ...I suppose my libido isn't as exactly as extinct as I had once feared... To be fair though, due to "current circumstances" I'm trying not to think of Amanda while actually "doing the deed" although, after the fifth time now, I'm also trying not to think of simple words anymore, words like "firm" or "insert" but that hasn't exactly worked too well, as my bed sheets could probably attest to...

  Honestly, at this point though they're nearly totally rigid now anyway, so it's not much of a stretch actually imagining them up on a witness stand somewhere, giving literal blow-by-blow accounts as some sort of sexual abuse victims...

  One of the best aspects of taking this medication, or so I thought, was having little to no sex drive!

  Honestly though, if I could flip a switch, or push a button to get rid of it once and for all, I would... in a heartbeat! I don't want it, I don't need it, and I don't care about it!

  ...Lately though, I've been thinking about "romantic relationships" more, and how much I hate them as well!

  Even seeing basic couple-y things set me off... Like when I see two people publicly kissing, even if it's two men, whatever... In spite of what gender they are, same sex or not, I don't actually care... No, seriously, I. Do. Not. Care... at all, not in the slightest. The specifics of who-maybe-repulsively-eating-who's-face doesn't make a single bit of difference to me, it's all revolting regardless! It's the actual act that gets to me, I simply don't want to see it in public, anywhere, and at anytime! So please, move away from my field of view you all make me feel queasy.

  ...Get the hell away from me, and all the other sad, loveless bastards that also don't want to watch your... "display". The exact same people who also deeply and secretly resent you for it as well, I might add. So piss off! go get a room somewhere to exchange fluids, whatever, just leave me, and my untarnished eyes alone and in peace. P.S You all make me sick! ...I don't care! I don't want to look at it anymore! I detest public displays of affection! they make me feel nauseous... well, unless it's two women specifically... and even then I'd be lying if I said I didn't think that was pretty hot...

  Shit. I'd better watch the sheets again...

  THIRTY FIVE

  I've been thinking to myself lately, truthfully, is there really such a thing as free will? or is everything already written and laid out before me, and I'm just going through the motions? ...or is it all simply the result of random variables and causality? is there even a way to find out the answer to such a question? ...no, probably not... not really, besides, that's not even the question I should be asking. The question I SHOULD be asking is this, do I even want to find out? because what if it truly doesn't matter? what if we're all just little marionettes, playing our part in this whole little marionette production? and what if something, or someone is pulling my strings...

  ...Regardless of that, I continue to wonder to myself about who, technically, is more of a coward in life me? myself? and all because I choose to hide myself away from the world behind a wall of solitude, contempt and indifference? simply because I hate it all, and so I chose to be this way, because I either can't, or won't deal with any of it. Or are the cowards other people? ...people who don't do this, and yet, still have to lie to themselves almost constantly, even on a daily basis, all to simply get through the next week... the next month... the next year...

  Either way, it seems to me that no-one can truly face reality in this zoo, and that one way or another, we're all the simple and complex results of cause and effect on this, this prison planet.

  People who think too much tend to have much shorter lifespans, because our brains burn out much quicker, and at a younger age than the average primitives.... I read that somewhere. It was my birthday a couple of days ago... nothing remotely interesting happened that day, of course, it came and went without incident, it's funny though, because I know it sounds strange, but I went through the entire day of my birth not realising it. Not realising that THAT day, was the exact same day I was born... the exact same day so many years ago that I came into being... and I forgot. Well, until this morning that is, when I received a late card through the mail from my parents, it read...

  "Dear Jack, we are sending you this card for your birthday, enclosed is (yet another) cheque. We do hope you are doing ok, and we would very much like to see you get back on your feet again soon. We are both ok. P.S. Happy Birthday, from your Mother and Father."

  That was it... nothing really interesting about the card, it just said "To A Special Someone" on the front and it had a picture of some park on it, with some generic flowers in a wooded area behind a bench in the background, and a lake in the foreground, oh, and it was sunset, and glimmers of final light were sparkling on the water, which to be completely honest, made me feel miserable just looking at it...

  I appreciated the card, however, I didn't appreciate the condescending tone, and the line about me being flat-broke and useless, as well as the both of them taking the time to remind me about it! I'll pay them back, I have before. I always do, don't I?

  Anyway, 24 years old... I wonder what's going to go wrong this year? Well, I th...

  "I DON'T CARE AMANDA!!! YOU'RE MINE!!! YOU BELONG TO ME!!!"

  "OH, I "BELONG" TO YOU, DO I?!"

  Here we go again...

  "IF I BELONG TO YOU, YOU'D TAKE CARE OF ME!!! YOU WOULDN'T CHEAT!!! YOU WOULDN'T BELITTLE ME!!! AND YOU CERTAINLY WOULDN'T HIT ME!!!"

  "OH, I WOULDN'T WOULD I?!!! YEAH?!! 'CAUSE NO ONE ELSE WOULD, WOULD THEY?!!! WELL WHAT IF YOU DESERVED IT?!?!"

  *Door slams, heavy stomping footsteps*

  "FUCKING CUNTING BITCH!!!"

  ...As I was saying, I wonder what's going to go wrong this year? I think this time last year I had food poisoning, yeah. Oh, that one was fun! I spent three days on the toilet, half the time blacking out, the other half constantly switching between shitting and throwing up...

  *Footsteps*

  ...Couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, couldn't concentrate. Awful, just horrible...

  *Knock knock*

  Huh? the door? who?

  I'd better get out of bed and check.... I wonder If it's related to that argument just now?... If it is, I probably shouldn't even open it, unless I want my face smashed in by "Bert".

  Ok, peephole, then...

  Amanda?! What? Why? I, I'd better open it...

  *Door opens slightly*

  "H-Hello?... Jack? is that you?"

  "Amanda? what is it, is everything ok?"

  "I'm not going to hide it, I'm sure you heard. Well, you probably hear it all the time, anyway... but I'm not staying home! I'm not staying in anymore!"

  (...What is this?)

  "Jack, I was wondering if you'd like to go out for a coffee with me?"

  (...Uh-oh.)

  "C, coffee?!"

  (Yep, now you're fucked...)

  "Sure! I mean, why not? I'm not going and sitting alone outside some cafe, besides, most of my friends live miles away from me, and he's probably already taken the car... Bastard!"

  (...You do know, that for this, at one point or another, your most likely going to get the shit-kicked out of you? especially IF you go... you do realise that don't you?)

  "Y-Yeah, s,sure!"

  (Ok, had to check, just as long as you know, then.)

  "Ok Jack, that's great!.. so do I... um..."

  (What? oh no! you stay out here!)

  "Uh, wait here Amanda, I'll just be a sec..."

  (...For Christ's sake.)

  THIRTY SIX

  *A Maglev
shuttle passes through the bustling district, as Jack and Amanda sit together directly outside the coffee shop*

  (Everything's so bright...)

  "Are you sure that's what you wanted Jack? it's a bit... basic."

  "This? yeah, black's fine, besides I'm a vegan so it's uh, great! Sorry about forgetting my wallet *cough*... I left in a, uh, hurry..."