10 second cure for the Great Depression!!

Well, as you can tell from the previous post l, I will never be published as a fiction writer, that is, I will never make any money at it- in fact it seems as I may never make any money at anything again! I realize I am not a very good fiction writer. My fiction highlights all the great qualities in the great writers, in a reciprocal kind of way. My writing is disorganized, with fluctuating characterization: vistas of boredom punctuated by moments of genuine poetry, again engulfed in seas of boredom. I like my poetry/lyrics better, at least the stuff that I used to write. I will plop some here one of these days. I may give you a speed poem at the end of this thing if can force it from my emotional pores. Nah, good at bits and pieces. Fairly original, I have read alot of crazy garbage in my day, and never seen anything like my crazy garbage. Of course their stuff is often better. Or used to be. As mentioned here before, there is NOTHING current in the arts and media that interests me now, unless it has some accumulated deposition of the past.

There you can't be depressed after reading this- your life couldn't be 1/10 as rotten as mine. I want to insert a disclaimer here: If you don't want to know what I think about issues near and far DON'T READ THIS! This is not part of my resume, and is intended only for those who have a sense of humor and WOULD LIKE TO BE ENTERTAINED. If you have a weak stomach, go to Harry Potter dot com. Better yet stay away from that too. THOSE NOT INTERESTED NEED NOT RESPOND (Stan Laurel in "Going Bye Bye")

No one does anyway. If they only tracked my own visits, an appalling lack of interest in this site would nonetheless be evident. Tell your friends! Warn your enemies! Teach your children so they can avoid this kind of perdition! What can one write when the moon is in the 6th house.. everything feels like work, and gives you a a scratchy throat. We should be out there joining plumbing and washing the surface of the Earth, mopping the trees, polishing the stars, and still feeling guilty, because we are not working as hard as we did in our past incarnations as mentally feeble hospital staff. Unless I go to some job that forces me to wear clothes I would rather not own, act like a demi phoney for 8 plus hours and then go home and try to reduce the facial swelling from having a fake smile plastered on my lips by retreating into a primal cocoon of infantile cartoons... (STP just came on!! WOO! "And I feel at times a ways to go.. and I see that these are lives to come, so would you even care.. Where you going with the mask I found. I feel when the dogs begin to smell her (Faulkner) where she stands alone GREAT I complain alot so I will say that the best songs byt this band are GREAT!!!! ");"?> NEW SUBJECT- even if the lyrics are only close, some great lyrics are written with the poet him/herself only being subconsciously aware of some meanings. We can clear some things up for the writer.. and even if we are "wrong" it is an interesting lyrical Roarshock test.

I wish AOL's smashing pumpkins station would only play stuff from Gish, Siamese Dream, Mellon Collie, or P Iscariot. This Chief Executive Stalin of Music has spoken. Nothing wrong with a CES if they know what they are talking about, and I do with regard to music, Egyptology, literature, dinosaurs and a few other things, so stop squirming.

On to the title of this thing. If any of you are suffering from depression, before you rush off to be wrongly diagnosed and medicated, try these simple steps first, if you are not too hypomanic to accept advice. 1) Get out of the house. If you walk outside and it is an overcast winter horror land with angry banks of clouds shutting you off from the Sun God Ra for fortnights at time, then jump on a plane to California, or Florida, or Hawaii, and negotiate a lucrative contract with Anything at all Megainc, and make sure they give a door to your office and a nice window. You will be able to feel your brain drinking the nectar of the beautiful Sun as you become more content, creative and tolerant by the second. Bullies can spit in your mouth and stretch your bones like rubber, and you will giggle. By the end of the week you will have generated so many insanely wonderful ideas for your own business that you will be able to kick over you boss's desk and tweak his bulbous nose and cackle your way out into the windy liberation of free enterprise. When you come to terms with black reality in your weekly rented motel room, you won't care much. It will be peaceful and you will have 3000 channels to choose from. Find old newspapers with undated Domino's coupons and you can live like royalty on pizza and tap water for some time to come. Open the drapes at least once a week.

2) If getting you out of the house only lands you in another more disreputable house, then you must become an Internet Robber Barron. Simply stay in whatever squalor is now your natural state, and bask in the glory of the sunshine (You MUST live in a sunny place). If you have anything to sell, sell it on the Internet. Even if you are only able to sell vintage dust mites, it is a start. Become the finest, most reputable Dust Mite Vendor in the Multiverse. If you are so disgustingly untalented that you are unable to even sell allergens, then you might want to manufacture a talent to entertain the sagging unemployed masses of humanity that want to cling to impossible fragments of hope in the form of an overpriced high speed Internet connection that constitutes their sole piece of furniture, foist material possession, and dearest votive object. You can be writer for example. Even if you are a brachylocomoting orange haired misfit who flies into a rage when deprived of bananas, you can be a success. Just keep typing if everything else fails, you will run into an idea. You could modify Burrough's cutting techniche, and snip random words out of color circulars, toilet paper packages, summons, archived post it notes, knitting them together in stanza form and capitalizing as many words as possible, possibly even using an Olde English font, and given the size of the Internut (TM) and the sea of cranial capacities less than 1400 cc, you should be a billionaire in no time, without suffering anything more than acute callouses.

If the above ideas fail, and they assuredly will, you could always marry a sexy rich nymphomaniac who is slavishly devoted to you. You could try the trillionaire presonals, but that is really too pedestrian. Melt your material "wealth" into a glass of gold, and then buy a first class Sears suit or gown, and the hangout in the places that the Rich and Disturbed haunt. Psychiatrist offices are great places. If you have bit of fake brains you can use this is good, but not necessary. If you can hold a magazine right side up, you are in business. Don't talk- most people are egomaniacs and love to talk about themselves. Ask one question about them and they will tell you everything including bathroom habits. Smile ALOT, keep nodding your head no matter how insipidly the conversation drifts into art, exotic pets, or right/left wing politics. Focus on the attractiveness of the person, and you will be eating out of their hand in now time. NOTE: you may have to put up with nauseating inconveniences like cellulite, odd body hair, or rubbing imported lotions on their back, but you will have more loot that J Paul Giddy, so who cares.

When the preceding fails, and it will eventually, you have two remaining fallbacks. One is monastic Buddhism and the other is suicide. You could combine the two if you like, but focusing on Buddhism may force you out of the material universes so you no longer need to repeat the cycle of Birth/Taco Bel Trainee/Dead End Office Job/Impossible Entrepreneurship/Gigolo to the Elderly and Rich/ Death. Nothing is better than this.....At least open a window and enjoy the Sun, or Sunlamp...