After the past two nights of terrible dreams, Baz Luhrmans "Wear Sunscreen," and half a Red Bull, I started to spontaneously cry. It came and went and now my face is drying and I think it's somehow an appropriate ending to this year. By in large, the 21st century has brought more low-grade crude oil misery than anything else to my life and the lives of people around me. More breakups, more fights, more despair, more anger. It seems many times like the happier moments of this millenium are mostly times when things just aren't miserable.
Happy Holidays everyone!
I'm only half-sarcastic about that. So there is such a thing as change, even for me.
Instructions for a post-modern, successful gen-xer:
1. Prepare your rationalized poisons beforehand. It will save you time, trouble, and money.
I fumble for the shot glass and prepare myself a cigarette, listening to mp3s on my latest electronic toy.
2. Gather as much gumption as you're prepared to dole out. If you are feeling insubstantially lethargic, don't worry, that's just a shell of residual angst from your teen years. The important thing is to remember that when you keep moving, it feels a lot like you're growing out of it.
Three ice cubes, two splashes of #7, and click-foosh my cigarette lights the way.
3. Act with deranged devotion, and mistake it for single-minded determination. That last part is important, so try not to get distracted. This was all on the exam you slept through a decade ago.
The ice somehow nullifies the half-Disney, half-rat poison taste of JD. The first drag of my cigarette still has lighter fluid fumes in it, which thankfully numbs my tongue and throat.
4. During your frantic thrusting, try your best not to hear complaint or outcry unless it's your own - or at least sounds like your own. You've got plenty of time for recrimination on your next bender. Or your next therapy session. Or both.
An oven mitten of amber alcohol rests itself on my brain, suffocating and warming it simulataneously. I remember afterschool specials where the moral message was just-be-yourself-and-everything-will-work-out, and think about serial killers and chronic jerkoffs who discovered just how true that lesson was.
5. In case of emergency, crawl back into whatever you came out of.
I'm waiting to see how long I can go before this room becomes intolerably cold. As it is, I've lost feeling in my fingertips and the end of my nose. In many ways, this is an analogy of my social behavior.
6. There will be occasions where you can finally see what you're supposed to be doing. You'll feel a sense of balance and harmony, and will laugh at your own foolish worries. If you're smart, you'll recognize that it has happened before, you've simply forgotten - and in that thought your elation will begin it's deflation. If you're stupid, you'll take another bong hit.
I frequently feel that loving someone completely and killing them are not so distantly related. There is something about the complete absolution of love that resonates with the finality of death. Is there anything left to do on the highest mountain peak but to savor the moment and begin the descent?
7. Never give up hope. If you had a nickle for every time a hopeless situation worked out for the best, you'd be yelling "I can see my house from here!" from the top of Silverado Peak.
The proof really is in the pudding. I'm still here, so clearly optimism has won every important battle.
8. Near the end, you'll feel an irresistable urge to look behind you. Don't. If you've done things right, you should see everything you want to see in front of you. If not... well, just don't.
In my teen years, I thought that my helplessness and despair were rooted in ignorance and misunderstanding. In my twenties, I learned the depths of ignorance and misunderstanding and realized I was irritated by a splinter while impaled on a pole. Now, I'm just a drunk.
9. Avoid nitrates. They give you gas.
I used to love Slim Jims. I used to take a bite and suck the "juice" from the bite before grinding what was left to a fine, meaty paste and swallowing. When I learned that it was assholes and elbows, I didn't immediately appreciate the metaphor.
As there are two sides to any coin, it seems that one of mine has been flipped over. Film at 11.
With only minor edits:
"One day you want to be shown the way and the next you
want to remain in your orbit around us all here on
earth. You constantly test me and try to get me to
leave you.
Why do I have to be the in the "impossible to escape"
box with you? It's gotta be your way? I have to do
things on your terms because there is no one you can't
dispose of with relative ease. So trying to force you
to do "my way" or any other way would be gambling with
being disposed of.
For you love is selfish. Love is your verbal fireworks
display for us all to ooh and ah at. Love is about you
making a hollow statement so others can feel
incredible joy and sorrow in one dazzling and sparkly
explosion. Boom! Oooh! Wow! Ow.
You are heartless and selfish. Your claim of being
generous is bogus. Monetary generosity is really not
generosity at all. You are the fucking Grinch. You
give people money and buy them things but you are very
selfish with you, with anything of actual substance.
Why don't you DO something for someone, something
involving time(I don't mean just spending time with
someone) and imagination. Something that would make
them smile indefinitely. Anyone. Someone you know,
someone you don't know. You put off to people that
money means very little to you, so why should it mean
anything when you give it to someone else.?
You are self-centered, self-loathing and petrified
with fear. That is the reason your reply to "How are
you?" is always, "I'm okay.." Well, you're not okay
with me.
You know, you would not be selling your soul to the
devil, you can let go of those things and try
something else. If the new things you try don't work
out you can always go back to your dark hole in the
ground and pick up your armor again.
You say that what I propose is not possible.
Furthermore, You say that you cannot offer me what I
want. (do you even know what that is??) Why don't you
make some sort of proposition? Why don't you make a
plan? I just might take you up on it.
You protect yourself with high brow explanations and
philosophic metaphors. You keep everyone at arms
length. You talk of not trusting and are unwilling to
trust. That forces me to either spit in the wind and
trust you anyway or not trust you...can you see how
that is absolutely ridiculous?
Either way I lose. If I try and push you, you will
pull away. If I relax and let you explore it on your
own you doubt yourself and pull away. You push away
enough and I will let go, then you will be just sad
enough to drink and flirt and write and shrug and say.
"see, happens every time. I keep hurting people. I
can't do what they think I can. I guess I will just be
alone forever and like it."
I want you to hate me. I want you to hate me because
as long as you love me or still care about me I will
want you and want you to find another happiness. I am
powerless. I am a disposable hero. I am just one more
reason, one more excuse, for you to hold on tighter to
the bullshit for you to wield like your coat of arms.
You do that. You may not "need" anyone around now or
in 30 years, but you can't tell me you don't dream
about "that other path" once in a while.
Moreover, I am not surprised if you disagree with most
or everything I have said. Your sorry excuse of being
inconsistent allows you to change yourself like you
exchange weapons on that fucking ninja or spy video
game with the exploding teddy bear.
In closing, I would like to point out that half of
what you say is just so you can hear your gums flap.
You frequently make statements about things you cannot
do in regards to me in regards to our relationship,
and then go ahead and do them anyway. Maybe I should
just start ignoring you and go on with our
relationship the way I see it best working out?"
I'm struggling with this stupid white space. I had this genius run going on in my head about various misunderstandings between men and women, and by the time I'd loaded up the editor (about 5 seconds) the whole chain of thought had shattered. The comments function stopped working earlier. I don't know why. I'm wondering if that was really Shoshana who wrote a comment, or one of the select group of trolling lurkers I've collected in my forums. I'm wondering about tommorow and whether or not I'll be in a good or bad mood.
Is it true that I never say "I'm doing great!" when asked? Am I really that cynical? Beaten-down? I dunno.
I'm thinking about lost loves and my spider Vein and late night TV. I'm eyeballing my insulating tape and wondering about heating bills. I'm drinking water instead of whiskey. My fingers smell like tobacco, lemon, and mint, like a Virginian hotel bathroom only sweatier. My feet are cold. My blanket is hanging from it's ceremonial spot above the heater, ready for the standard hour of insomnia and assorted hours of fitful sleep.
I smiled today and my lips were so dry they cracked in three places. I feel like I tried to eat a razor.
For Joe: 1500-7730160-6644723-1540