We Make Movies And Then Movies Make Us

Is it weird that I never find a reason good enough to celebrate, and actually feel celebration is a waste of time? I'm still to find anything worth fighting for. I think I had one for sometime, and then I just got bored, gave up. It was pointless. I don't like it when I start depending on anything or anyone. It makes me clingy. I detest clingy people, can't stand the sight of them. Probably cause they are a shadow of me. So I walk away. There is this sexy line in Ronin when De Niro is asked if he's killed anyone and he answers, "No. But I've hurt someone's feelings". Killer! And then I smile at myself and say, what the hell, I'm a bad man, so be it. Almost like the Rabbi from Lucky Number Slevin. "I'm a bad man who doesn't waste time wondering what could've been when I am what could've been and what could not have been. I live on both sides of the fence. My grass is always green." It's strange when I don't feel even one bit proud of anything about my life. People everywhere are proud of so many things, the college they attended, the concert they attended, the country they live in, their culture, their guitar, their family and my attitude goes, "Oh, whatever". Smiles, fun times, laughter, are all fine. But nothing lasts. I go on to attend a fantastic show and come out overwhelmed, seriously awed by the performance, trying to remember and feel the vibrations of the vocal harmonies that took over my numb brain and gave me a high that no fuckin drug in this world can ever give, and then I'm surrounded by a happy and equally awed group, left totally speechless by the same and yet I feel lost, not finding the reason to dance. It's crazy but somehow I'm always reminded of the fact that all good and beautiful things eventually turn ugly. As the wise and not so old Chuck Palahniuk puts it, there is a reason we are not immortal, else we might end up killing each other eventually. Everything finally wilts and dies. Nothing lasts. Two people, however lost they can be at that moment, cannot be in that place for good, except in movies, of course where the fuckin heart goes on and on and on. And yet we celebrate the moment, living the moment as everyone puts it. Finding joy in small things. Getting wasted doesn't make one happy, just numb. And isn't the numbness we are all after anyway? Nothing's real, these achievements and failures, greats and losers, mortals and supermen, Gods and barbarians, all these values and morals, all make-beliefs so we don't end up shooting down each other. But what's the point? We all die, eventually. It's just a mental state. Seriously Walter, what's the point?