Armageddon days

Dear L-X-X,
What can I say?
K. is getting married after what, ten years? I think you´d remember him, guy roomed with me, you talked to him once, about some Javascript code thing back in the day. Via ICQ instant messaging, of all things.

K. is getting married after what, ten years, and it sure feels life´s one long movie and we´re finally getting to the climax. I went out drinking with _______ again the other night, we´re the Best Men. We were talking of all things considered, how incredibly cool it is to send off a pal like that into life´s long night with a beacon in his hand.

There are things we´ll go through life without ever telling anyone, but there was this one time we were all at home and I was flipping over the dictionary, to randomly find the one word that would supposedly go on to christen our mascot or something. It was the idiotic idea of the week, obviously soon to be forgotten with the rest of them all.
The word I found was, Lamplighter.

I´m not entirely sure what´s the meaning of this, but as I´ve just said, there are things we´ll go through life without ever telling anyone, not even ourselves I guess. Still, it´s kind of nice to actually know some of us are able to find their way into the night and through these Armageddon days, instead of plain´old bitching about it like this old drama-queen bit of mine.

As for me, well, I´d been having a lousy week, hell, a lousy month. You´d have no idea: All the same old mistakes coming straight back at me like some old, time-tested Dickensian ghost and you know how I feel about Charles Dickens, right? A Tale of Two Cities aside, I can´t f*cking stand Charles Dickens, so by the time I got to Friday afternoon and this guy I know forwarded an e-mail he´d received from Madison Square Garden, saying Bruce Springsteen´s playing NYC in November, and had asked me “So why don´t you go?”—I actually hit Reply and started typing all the reasons as to why I couldn´t make it. I mean, freaking obvious, right?

But as it turned out, I couldn´t find one single reason.

So I pretty much stopped thinking, opened a second browser window, picked up my credit card, and five minutes later there I was going to my boss (!) to tell him I needed a week off in November because, Springsteen playin´ the Garden, y´know, and I just happened to have the tickets...

So it comes to pass that 2009 is evaporating, sublimating, goddamn disintegrating, and with it all the cool things and the perks of being in my twenties. Somewhere deep down in hell I´m sure the Prince of Lies is laughing his ass off once his screenwriters handle him the script´s latest pages.
It matters not, see, because Lamplighters aside, we´re all doomed to fail anyhow. That´s how I´ve come to think of life: All our choices will inevitably boil down to bad decision springing free old ghosts and the older we get the more we get to hurt ourselves.

So if you really think about it, and I do, there´s only one way as to how to deal with these Armageddon days we´re living—and it´s by throwing a few curve balls, it´s by denting the memetics of the mundane.
It´s about, I´ve just decided, thinking up “Aww hell” and recalling to mind what I told myself this year´s motto would be: WWMCD?

MC wants to go to a Springsteen concert ever since he was a little kid and read some comic book in which Captain America duked out against the Superpatriot at the parking lot of a Springsteen concert, and the Superpatriot was beating the tar out of Cap (everyone knows the Superpatriot can bench like 10 tons while Cap´s like a glorified Batman) but stopped because oh, he didn´t want to miss the show.

It takes me back, you know.
And it will take me forward too, it will take me right through these madcap Armageddon days, with the usual cocky smirk on my face.