Wednesday, September 21, 2016

The Luck of Alaster Pierrot

Only Round 4 of Season 11, but the motivation has failed. I imagine myself as some robot or AI, putting in the practice laps, just to weed out the dabblers and dilettantes. There must be no duty nor deity. Sanction and senescence seems to be the same. (They're trying to kill me, you know!) My secret habits undermine their sorry existence.

Bollocks. So, I try to find the focus that eludes me intermittently. And like the snake that eats its own tail, I offer my vanity for any chance to win. Now you see the shame that burns all who persevere. Your clever witty answer to this blight solves nothing.


Sunday, September 4, 2016

Starscream's Ghost

It's been years since I was supposed to quit online sim racing and go out into the world and live a life that is expected of me. And yet here I still am, feeling the FoF state as I await another race scheduled for a few hours from now. I have not changed at all, still smoking and drinking away, relishing the endless summer vacation, looking for some next level of discipline and skill that will vault me up the grid and enable me to win races and championships. I did get some sort of part-time job cleaning paintings and other artworks. But I am nowhere near what a guy my age should normally be doing.

I feel no remorse at all. I'm living what I dreamt of when I was a kid. Am I doing something wrong? Sure, I thought about getting married and having a family of my own, buying a house and a car and all that. But it was only for a moment, and then my programming failed. I look at my contemporaries and how they have gone ahead in these so-called stages of life. And maybe I do feel a little bit left behind, even if I sleep well, eat well, and enjoy my time.  In racing as it is in life, I know I am a backmarker. First, second, third... or last, the chequered flag will wave. It affirms my despair.