| Oh Joy! | ||
| 2000-11-03 || the pavement is hard, be careful | ||
|
It sort of amazes me the things people do. It amazes me the choices people make some times. I�m a guy who is often left standing there scratching my head wondering just what the hell could possibly motivate a person to make the decisions they make. I guess it�s none of my business really, and it shouldn�t matter anyway. So with that said, I still think the women around here make silly decisions that make me scratch my head. You take a look in the mirror and you realize everything is there. You have arms, a face, eyes, ears, a nose, and a mouth. You�re contemplating all of this, so you must have a brain right? Riiight. Well, to tell the truth, I don�t try to figure people out, it�s all too confusing. It will just drive me crazy trying to figure out how to impress people, or better yet, give people what they want. I could sit here and wear some great after shave, and buy expensive wine, and tell you all about my rides in the limousine, but I guess that isn�t going to get me anywhere. I guess it�s really going to just drive me to drink�iced water. You see, iced water is the best thing for you. They teach you that shit in school. It helps you out in the summer. It helps my friend Jeremy at rock concerts, as he is a �water nazi�, or a �blanket nazi�, but that�s a whole other story�It�s loved and cherished all over the world. They give it to drunken people who need to �sober up� and see straight. Personally, I like to find people passed out drunk and throw iced water all over them, especially in the winter. This reminds me of some funny things some friends of mine used to do back in the day. When I was a teenager, I was pretty straight edge. A couple of my friends were also, and we would go to parties that our friends or classmates were at and hang out for a while, and cause our own little trouble. Going into the refrigerator and stealing peoples beers, taking them into the bathroom and dumping them down the sink, or on occasions when there were people there we didn�t really like we�d take the beer into the bathrooms, and well, �take them into the bathroom�, and then leave them around for people to drink once they were good and drunk. Stealing liquor from parents liquor cabinets at these parties and fill them with water or ginger ale, etc. The best thing was leaving the party, and calling the police from a pay phone, and watching them get busted down the street. Anyway, not sure why I am just remembering this particular evening, but we were at a party one night, my friend Tom and I. There were a couple people tripping on acid. We took them into a room and completely freaked them out. One of us would turn the light on and off, while it was off the other person would move to another side of the room, and make pretend they teleported there. There were much more cruel things we would do that more than once left people crying and freaking out, but I�m not going to get into that here. Years later, this kind of thing turned into more fun games like calling parties and telling people that �so and so crashed their car up after they left, and you need to get down here right now�. I sort of wish I could go back to the days of good clean fun like that. Fucking with the weak people. I kind of sort of wish I were a teenager again from time to time. I�d recommend to anyone being a straight teenager, you can have much more fun. Once you get to college, or get into your twenties, then you can become a loser and start doing the things that �adults� do. You�ll appreciate it more, and you�ll actually be able to remember things, and hey, you might actually have some brain cells, as well as a liver left. I went through a period where I glamorized certain aspects of myself being fucked up, but that was short lived, and for the most part was me acting out some sort of part to either impress a girl, or me succumbing to peer pressure. I turn 31 today, and I�ve maybe been drunk thirty times in my life. People seem to think it�s useless that I make such a big deal out of it, but I don�t really think I do, it�s something I oppose strongly, sure I do it every once in a great while, but for the most part, I have much more fun standing on the sidelines watching them fall, and spiral. Again, it makes for great storytelling, and the like. It is my prerogative to have this little bit of pride in my life, I don�t flash any other pride as much. If you don�t know who Carry Nation is, I�d recommend reading up on her�Here�s a blurb from a website I just found: �Carry A. Nation, the militant crusader against illegal saloons, launched her career of saloon-smashing in Kiowa. She and her followers in Medicine Lodge, her home town, had closed the local saloons by holding prayer meetings on their premises and displays of force. However, as the Women's Christian Temperance Unions jail evangelist, she found as many drunks as ever in the county jail. These men named Kiowa as their source of supply. A voice spoke to Carry, telling her to go to Kiowa and smash the saloons. On June 1, 1900, she attacked three "joints" in Kiowa, using stones, brickbats, full malt bottles, and one billiard ball as ammunition. Carry's attack surprised local officials, but because of the fact that the operation of such "joints" was illegal she was not jailed as she would be later in other communities. She did not adopt the use of her now famous hatchet until her visit to Wichita some six months later. The Kiowa attack quickly received national attention and instigated great debate even among the temperance organizations. Carry Nation spent the remainder of her life in the crusade against the liquor interests and lecturing on prohibition. She died June 9, 1911. � Now that is pretty damn cool if you ask me. Anytime I read up about people like her I get a sense that there are, or were some people that did actually have some sort of pride in what they believed in, and actually did something about it. Not that I�m doing anything but bitching and complaining�At some point I will remove myself from here there and everywhere. Disconnect. Take myself outside to keep watching the people spiral, and the meek perish. The meek shall inherit nothing. I removed myself from situations from time to time that I felt were just going to cause me to jump. I remove myself every day from situations that may cause me to jump. I try and take a little time each day to look at things in a more clear light. Okay, everyone�s doing it, why shouldn�t I? Well, in the continued interest of never wanting to be a sheep, this is how I will always hope to be. I fall off the tracks from time to time, only to get my balance and sanity back. Realizing that that girl I�m trying to impress probably isn�t worth it anyway. Realizing I�m in a scene right out of Dawn of the Dead, or maybe Night of the Living Dead. Humor. Humor comes in many forms nowadays. It comes in the form of guys in sweaters and shoes that don�t match try and get a piece of the action on a Friday night. It comes in the form of watching how silly they act. It comes in the form of me sitting at a table smelling like the men�s room at the Boston Garden. It comes in the form of me thinking that the girl across the table with the sparkle in her eye is seeing across the room right through me. It comes in the form of girls crying in the ladies room to their friends about so and so and this and that. It comes in the form of people hugging and kissing thinking they�re finding some kind of warmth. It comes in the form of people who think they might actually remember it forever. They might remember that look in her eyes forever. How she looks at me is something I feel good about when it happens. Not sure if I�ll remember it a year and half from now. Who will be the next in line? Who will be the next sucker? Who will be the first one to spill their grape juice on my rug and ruin the night for everyone. Who will be the next in line? The one who lies with her skin color, and pale blue eyes? Will it be that guy I met recently that thinks he�s a supermodel with a knack for picking up the pieces of a leftover New Years Eve bash? Will it be that girl crying in the parking lot because she�s not sure she remembers how to drive? Or will I just find humor in the same things I do now? The rude jokes about animals and cars and midgets. I try to feel it out each day. Maybe today I will form a new pact with myself. Maybe tomorrow I will end it, and just give in, and take my dead ass down to the post office for more postage to get my ass out of Dodge. Perhaps I can talk someone into exactly what I want and feel. Perhaps I will kill it with one clean swoop of the blade. Like my old dear friend Harry says �try it, if you don�t like it, just stay in, nobody will notice, they never do� I hear laughter and I see fingers pointing at me, and I need to go outside and get air. The best thing I can do now, is hope the last people in line are the good ones. The ones with two heads on their shoulders. The ones with two arms. They look in the mirror. They can get into a staring contest with the mirror for hours at a time without breaking a sweat or getting upset and having to throw up in the sink. The jokes come from arrows being shot at me from all directions. The usual suspects. The hidden agendas. The hidden meanings. The vague understanding of my ploys. The only few people that know enough not to tickle me with lies and shit breath. The few people that say they have respect for me, yet don�t bother with anything to pique my interest. It�s not really a big joke anymore. It�s a fallacy. You�re in this alone kid. Let them huddle in front of the fireplace, you ain�t gonna make it to the end of this without a fight. You ain�t gonna make it up to anyone at this point. You piss one off, you piss three off, in the end, it doesn�t matter. You get what you pay for. I know how much I�ve paid. I know how much I have given to people. There is a small circle. A very small circle of respected people I know. Don�t ask me about trust. That seems to come from a language I don�t quiet understand anyway. The one great lesson we have learned is, never get down on yourself. Never let anyone tell you what you are. I like to tell people what I think they are, sure. I�ll try my hardest now not to. I�ll try not to be the judge anymore. This is one thing I fully believe in though. It�s my birthday, I can say whatever the fuck I want. I�ll give my name out on little white business cards. I�ll give out little gasoline soaked rags for people to hold against their mouths if they don�t want to talk about it. The one lesson we have learned here, what was it again? Oh yeah, thirty-one years later, and I still don�t believe a fucking word of it. You pussies.
before & after |
contact
credits
| |