June 18, 2007

The Black Venom

Rohit, Halloween 2005

In my never-ending bid to be more like Seth Cohen of The O.C. fame, I decided to compensate for a childhood (regrettably) spent without reading nary a single comic book, by entitling my latest entry after an extraterrestrial symbiont in Spider-Man, that, when bonded with a human host, exaggerates certain characteristics of the host, and most importantly, causes the host to begin wearing eyeliner and dressing in all black. However, considering that I have never really needed an excuse to wear eyeliner or dress in all black (see nearby picture), I might as well have entitled this entry The Languorous Lethargy. Perhaps this might explain how three months ago, I found myself sitting in a dimly lit room, with weeks of Wall Street Journals and months of Economists by my bedside, lying in a pile of both clean and dirty laundry, mindlessly watching my fifth hour of The O.C. while eating pizza from a week ago—on a weeknight. Truly, I had been consumed by the Black Venom—of laziness.

The black venom of which I speak, unlike that which caused Tobey Maguire to become more punk rock in Spider-Man 3, does not exaggerate one's tendency to be an asshole (I hardly need any help in that regard); rather, it introduces such a grand disinterestedness in its victims, that they are soon consumed by a potent lethargy, and rendered completely incapable of functioning outside of basic human tasks, e.g., eating, sleeping, shitting, watching bad television—you get the point. And once it bonds with a host, it is incredibly difficult to shake. I should know. I was consumed by this symbiont's wicked ways for nearly two months this year.

Between mid-February and early-April of 2007, I accomplished next to nothing in my personal life. I stopped reading; I stopped exercising (OK, do I ever?); I stopped working on various personal projects (e.g., the Realm); and I stopped hanging out with my friends. In short, I became a recluse. A hermit, that outside of venturing out for corporate drudgery or for the purpose of finding my next meal, spent all my time in front of a television watching TV on DVD. I became consumed by existential angst. I lost interest in life.

Regular readers will note that I did not shake the black venom until mid-May, when I finally was able to stop my tailspin into the dark abyss of meaninglessness for long enough to regain some (limited) productivity. Was this was the proverbial ringing of the bells in the bell tower? Possibly. Since shaking the black venom, my personal productivity has grown exponentially. I have attacked many long outstanding items in my life with vigor I have not known since graduating from Berkeley. Perhaps, most importantly for all of you, I have begun processing the two year backlog of photos, as those aware of my photo gallery have no doubt noticed.

So, the next time you find yourself eating week-old pizza and watching bad television while laying on a pile of both clean and dirty laundry, realize that you have been consumed by the black venom. Not that that realization will help you at all, but at least you will be able smile bitterly to yourself at the irony of knowing you are slowly throwing your life away, and have absolutely no means of stopping yourself.

I mean, knowing may be half the battle, but when you have no means of fighting the other half, you might as well revel in the bitter ironies of life.

Oh, and for those who are wondering, Audrey got the concept from me!