I am bored to tears. I try not to admit this to myself but it is the truth. I am terribly bored. Miserably bored. There is no place I want to go. Outside of a magnificent orgy there is nothing I want to do. All is boring. People are boring. I am boring. The flies on my wall are boring. I try to hide from my boredom in books and music. I try and write and make art hoping this will take my boredom away. I seek solace in sex and my iPhone but nothing works. The boredom is always there. What am I going to do? Maybe I can just seek sex all the time? Seeking and having sex seems to be all that temporarily eradicates my boredom. Marijuana does not work much. Alcohol doesn’t seem to do the trick. I try and buy things but this does not work. No matter what I do here I am bored. My massive library is a failed attempt to avoid boredom. Maybe it is my fault. It is how I have set up my life. My intense boredom is the result of choices I have made. My failures. But I am not convinced. I think the vast majority of humans suffer from this. Most are better than I at making it the norm. Sure our boredom abates for a bit. We fall in love. We have sex. We eat a good meal. We listen to a good record. But the boredom is right back. Even the best blow job does not keep the boredom away long. It is a terrible feeling. I can not figure out if it is my fault or the fault of those around me. Or a fundamental fault of the human condition. Maybe it is a failure of my ability to really pay attention and be absorbed in the things that matter. Or maybe the things that matter are really boring.