Rejoice

Every now and then I peer out through my sick sadness and post a self-pitying depressed message on here. I usually laugh at it, but then again I realize there is a reason why I'm write these things and think this way. Either way, here is a thought that has been pursuing my mind for a few days:

"Wouldn't it be so wonderful if everything were meaningless, but everything is so meaningful, and most everything turns to shit. Rejoice."

As I sat in Coolidge Park today in the midday sun I just watched and thought and wrote. This is one of my observations, as recorded in my journal:
A lone bird sits on a desolate tree crying out his song. No one has arrived yet. He seems just as content as he did thirty seconds ago. Nine pigeons sit on a cool shaded stone wall. The jackhammer sings his song off in the distance. A pigeon flies by with a branch in his mouth.