Corporate rock for the idiot's soul

I am sitting on the subway, pretending that I'm not crying because of a Lifehouse song. I just, um, have something caught in my eye. Something called desperate self-loathing.

I am damaged at best
Like you've already figured out
I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing
With a broken heart that's still beating

No doubt some songwriting think tank was handsomely compensated to conjure that up, and yet it still manages to so perfectly encapsulate how I've felt for the last 6 months, 2 years, decade or so.

I'm hanging on for one more day
Just to see what you throw my way

OK, really, Lifehouse? Low blow. So you're really leaving me no choice but to furtively wipe away tears that at least have the courtesy to slide down the far side of my cheek so as not to be totally obvious. I really abhor public displays of blubbering, and the D train is the last place for emotional spectacles.

Occasionally, as I explained to Tom this afternoon, I have a bolt of clarity over what a wretched creature I can be. It's like all my mistakes and bad judgement and normally manageable regret gets crystallized all at once into a giant monolith of Flawed Character that I can only gaze at in terrified awe, like Kubrick's barely evolved primates. It seems so inescapable and overwhelming. I have dug myself such a hole, and sometimes everything seems lost.

"Why hate yourself?" Tom advised. "What not hate something more deserving - like Dickface."

I don't want to hate Dickface. I don't want to feel anything about him at all. As a matter of fact, I don't want to feel at all period. I'm so tired of this. I hate my own weakness and lack of self-control, and I hate that I'm reduced to something as pathetic as complaining to Tom about my bad mood. There's no way to win, really. Survey says: you're a loser. Number One answer.

I left the Stereophonics show early tonight, even despite the novelty of Adam Zindani of Casino on rhythm guitar and backing vocals. I had issues with the set list, it was hot and crowded, and my back was unhappy with 3 hours of standing. I tried to enjoy myself, but it was not to be. The monolith looms large, and there is no ignoring it at the moment.

I blame you, Lifehouse.