i was just listening to a voice memo from earlier today when it occured to me that i may want to kill myself
If you are thinking, ‘you endlessly hyperbolizing lunatic, what kind of a title is that,’ I ask: have you heard your own voice lately? recorded? and played back to yourself? It makes you stare straight ahead in despair, horrified and deeply apologetic at the thought that friends and strangers alike have been listening to this voice since 1988. And I really need to finish this bottle of wine when I hear myself pronounce “memo” how one pronounces the word “mammal”. Not once but all three times. MAMMAL. MAMMAL MAMMAL.
I don’t have one of the dreamier accents.
A whammy quartet: On the one hand, you just wasted six minutes of you life listening to the soul-grating sound of your recorded voice. On the other hand, you had wasted another six minutes coming up with an idea that only someone driving to work while listening to Alanis Morissette could come up with. On the third hand — your glass-half-full hand — you feel self-congratulatory about never having wasted additional time dreaming of a career as a recording artist. It was never your calling. And you pat yourself a little on the back with this humble hand for being somewhat realistic with your life’s goals. On the fourth and most grateful hand, you are thankful what callings you did have were not heard in your own voice.
Just like you, I have a masochistic streak, so I had to listen to some of the old mammals as well. They reminded me of the fact that 99.9% of the things I come up with while driving are junk. Including grocery lists.
