Thursday, October 30, 2008

[Chapter 1] Life.

I’m fucked in the head.

There’s no denying it. I’m the case study a psychologist will dream about his entire career, only to read about in trade journals. There are even times when I question my own mental stability and actually concede to the notion that I very well might be schizophrenic. It’s a difficult pill to swallow when my ulterior state of mind is the one telling me that I might want to consider seeking professional care.

Allow me to put into context the progression of my self-degradation.

It starts with anger issues and the inability to cope with the most innocuous of offenses.

A simple “fuck you” directed toward a teenybopper as she veers three feet into your lane while chatting it up with her BFF Chrissy about how big of a slut LC is for sleeping with Brody during last night’s episode of The Hills, even though they are totally just friends.

The infirmity progresses when you realize the innate desire to quite literally cut each person you see on TV who disagrees with your moral fiber in the slightest degree. Perhaps it’s the latest Abercrombie and Fitch commercial which exposes each airbrushed abdominal muscle with the utmost of glistening glory. Or perchance it’s the desire to know what Victoria’s secret really is and how said secret is keeping her hips so narrow and her breasts so disproportionately large.

Through a culmination of intolerable malfeasances, your mind slowly begins seeing the world through a crimson veil. Bitterness and cynicism start to set in with a harsher reality than the moment you came to find that Santa Clause was merely a timeless illusion that slowly transformed into the greatest marketing scheme of all time.

Notions begin to perambulate through your subconscious that one of the religious sect might consider to be the work of the devil. You find it impossible to hold a normal conversation with your mentors, superiors, or even friends without the propensity to tear into them with each of your extremities just to see what degree of complacency each blow to their head holds.

I told you I was fucked.


Every child holds a certain magnificent sentiment for television and radio as they grow up. A charismatic aura that the production behind everything we see and hear is miraculously and superlatively created only for our own enjoyment. Even as adults, our idea of perfection behind-the-scenes of our favorite entertainment medium remains tenacious. Our beloved personalities are immortalized.

Perhaps my immersion into the field of radio and traditional media can be blamed for the contempt that consumes every fiber of my essence. Perhaps knowing that every word each egotistical, self-consumed radio jock and news anchor mutters is contributing to the self-righteous politically-driven advertising machine.

While every jock claims to be altruistic, between each commercial break and behind every back, crude humor, promiscuity, and an avaricious desire for money consumes their innermost selves. Less thought is given to the wellbeing of their listener base than is to which pair of socks they wear each morning.

These role models we live vicariously through greet you with open arms and will feed you every indication that they are interested in hearing about the time you were listening to their show while getting ready for work and fell in the shower because you were laughing just oh so hard. The moment you walk away, hang up the phone, or simply let your guard down, every detail about your encounter is being critiqued and ridiculed.

“Did you see how big her ass was?”

“I never thought he would fucking shut up!”

“I would love to bend that over.”

Our perception of those who we idolize is plagued with falsifiable hopes that lead us to believe there is an ounce of pure-hearted entertainment left in this world. We are sadly mistaken.

The question is not whether my accusations are equitable or whether they are unjust, as I have experienced first-hand the tasteless behavior of even the most notable of media personalities; the question is would we, would I, be happier if that glint of innocence still twinkled in my eye as if I were a child once more? Would every preceding word, every preceding post, and every life chapter to come be nullified by the ignorance due in part to the masked personas of our media showmen?

Maybe I’m the only remaining sane member of this species, or maybe I’m just the one who is perfectly insane.

The ice I tread is growing thinner as the proclivity toward madness continues to grow.

This is my life.

Trey -AKA- The Mad Wordsmith


  1. umm,these feelings you are sharing with us are really interesting.One needs to allow such passions to be exposd to other people,we all have moments similar,perhaps....or indeed the very same.As humans we do sometimes have more in common than we may think! If we can discuss these moments we call madness,they may become more understandable.Sweetie have a beautiful day :)

  2. I'm still laughing at your desire to "cut" people for seemingly innocent behavior. Seems as if you and I are of the same mold.

    What I find interesting is your degree of self-awareness. "Fucked" you may be, but delusional you are not. It seems to me that given the two alternatives - self-aware or delusional - you've got the better end of the stick, my friend.

  3. Another well-written post my friend. Every time I read your blog, it pushes me further to write my own no-holds-barred mind purge! Like I've said before, you are great.....and have managed to make some REALLY take a look at themselves, to see that it's okay to have these feeling they have every so often. :)

  4. Trey, I think what you're describing here is experience similar to Neo's in _The Matrix_. I say "I think" because I've never actually seen _The Matrix_, but the point I will ultimately make here is that you are not alone in a world of disillusion/disenchantment. The question becomes not 'would I be happier were I ignorant', or 'why did I take the pill', but 'how can my knowledge inform my choices/identity/personal brand.' There's a lot of theory and philosophy out there to help a person navigate modernity - you could start with Marx, Gramsci, Baudrillard, Foucault - who would say that "The work of an intellectual is not to mould the political will of others; it is, through the analyses that he does in his own field, to re-examine evidence and assumptions, to shake up habitual ways of working and thinking, to dissipate conventional familiarities, to re-evaluate rules and institutions and to participate in the formation of a political will (where he has his role as citizen to play)."

    The bottom line is that (although you could use to tone down the anger a bit; especially w/r/t teenagers, who tend toward the vapid, and many grow out of that) you're probably on the right track.

    PS Madness, Foucault argues, is another socially constructed discursive regime of power, and you might want to consider looking into his _Madness and Civilization_. I know this might seem like a plug, but as far as continental philosophy goes, he literally wrote the book.

  5. Hi are you today? I havent been online much over weekend..just coming by to say hi, hope your day is awesome :)

  6. Is being fucked in the head better than being fucked in the ass? Well, I don't experiment with things up my back door so I'm not really qualified to answer. But for some, being fucked in the head may be preferable.

    Though you aren't really fucked. You just are seeing things as they are. More people need to question what is fed to them. We are all human, we all have ulterior motivations from time to time, but we need to examine them and keep them in check. The world itself is fucked, but there is still beauty. There is still a glimmer of hope, I promise you that.

  7. It's the climate of the world as we know it. Trust me when I tell you, you aren't the only one who wants to give that little girl yapping on her cell phone a whack upside the head for being such a self involved rude little witch.

  8. Kudos x infinity to you for being able to put into words what I, and others obviously, feel on a regular basis. This is why I watch so very little television, and listen to even less radio. It's a vapid wasteland of self-loving bullshite, and it does nothing but eat away at the soul. Looking forward to reading the rest of your blog!

  9. I get the impression, you miss being a child - ment in that way, that when being a child, you have this "fantasy-world", and as we grow old, all the adults, pull us down to earth again, and doesnt allow us to dream anymore. Its sad... Im happy, my child-fantasies are still intact, inside myself.
    I know how you feel.



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