i thought about all the things i didn't want. money, greed, a shiny new car, a set of steak knives, more clothes than i could wear in a week or a giant empty house filled with new uncomfortable furniture and an obnoxious amount of things i didn't need. it felt empty to want those things. i don't want to consume, to buy, to spend extravagant amounts of time and money making sure that my coffee table matched the drapes and paint decor. for me all those material things seemed like a desperate attempted at becoming human, while inside, it would still be a giant empty parking lot filled with bums smoking crack and porta potties with walls covered in feces.
i do not want to save the world.
that's a foolish task.
i'll leave that to the naive.
i wanted to ask questions. to question authority, to question my existence, to question love, hate, anger, apathy and empathy. i watched the people shuffle in and out of the bar, the college students taking shots at the far end seemed like a relatively happy bunch, i moved closer so i could hear their conversation. the girls got up to hit the head. all short blond girls, with soft skin and good smells. jeans and sandals, lots of eyeliner, and high pitched voices. i shot them a smile as they walked by me, they giggled and pointed at my hat. i nodded and swiveled around back towards the bar. they were soft. soft skin, soft eyes, soft hair, soft personalities and soft smiles. soft through and through. i disliked women like that, they had no fire, no passion, they were bad lays and even worse to talk to. mannequins pretending to be human, acting like humans, smiling like humans. i wondered if they cried or felt anything at all. what were they looking for?
the guys were no better. tall and slender, all wearing baseball caps and shirts representing their college. they were loud and obnoxious, obviously satisfied with life and everything in it. these were guys who were dealt a the good hand in life. they never had to fight for anything, other than each other to prove who was macho enough to drag the drunkest dame home. i felt sorry for them. but they didn't need my sorrow, they were beyond that. i finished my drink and ordered another.
i thanked myself for never becoming like them. satisfied. i was not satisfied, and i will never be. i am prone to self destruction at times, but it's with caution. i enjoy life way to much to end it so soon. whoever or whatever put me on this giant playground wasn't fucking around. i want to know who's in charge, and what's going on over there, over here, and over on the other side of the fence. i don't like cliques. high school was full of self important assholes who rolled in cliques and that only infuriated me even further. i hated people who sat there and accepted everything at face value. there's an underlying reasoning to all of this, and if you've got enough guff to even attempt at working at the problem, then you're half way there. it takes less courage to smile and be content than it does to speak up and voice your problems. i hid nothing from anyone. take it or leave it.
this was not a good way to live though. it's self righteous and arrogant. but something inside compelled me to be this way and i knew it wasn't an original thought, there had been many before me who felt the same, and they'll be many more. i started wishing someone would hit me over the head with a bottle so i could be dumbed down a bit, a little more gullible and naive. i wanted a lobotomy or to be sedated. the liquor helped at times, kept my brain from racing and dancing around inside of my skull. i became more accepting of life and everything in it, the people, the bullshit that was fed to us. i believed that people were honest and heartfelt, that nobody was out to play tricks and discourage me. i knew drinking could not be my crutch, so i left the bottle behind and started thinking of ways to deal with this increasing amount of malarkie that was handed to me. i could only take so much at a time, my tolerance was low. i drank less, but disappeared more. i'd wander out onto the street, or sit on the curb, stand on the balcony or just move my chair over to a place where no one would bother me. but with my luck, they always seemed to follow me wherever i went. occasionally i would meet a person who had an intelligence higher than the liquor proof of a bottle and i'd sit with them. those conversations were always great and made me feel warm inside. i would stop drinking and listen, talk when it was my turn, and the nights would get red hot. my hands would sweat, i would become excited at the smallest comments or hints. i did not feel thirsty during those times. it was like honing a chefs knife. blade against stone.
i was happy to be alone. there were people who i felt very strongly about, but those would pass to, and be replaced with other people. on and on like this, they would come into my bed and leave just as fast.on and on like this. i always made it a point to let them know i still wanted them around, because that's the right thing to do.
and that's what it all boiled down to. having a solid set of morals, principals, and opinions you lived by. i would not let them tow my car without a fight. i would not let the city collect money for my parking tickets. i would not pay my creditors and i sure as fuck wouldn't let the asshole get his way. it was an endless fight, but well worth it. becoming another cloudy eyed, dim witted, smiling empty headed person was not rewarding. becoming satisfied with life was like letting someone shit in your cheerios. i'm just wondering how the cheerios were made and who allowed this asshole to shit in them?
