Brain is melting.
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Damned if you Do and Damned if you Don't
I never wanted this thing to be open to "invited readers only". that's bullshit that people do to make you feel like you're part of some kind of exclusive club. Oh, i don't want so and so reading what i wrote, i don't want them in my head, it'll give them too much of an edge against me. But sometimes i can understand how that can be your only way out, keeping things private, because this is the internet, and people stumble across this thing every so often and read. If you don't know me personally it's much easier to just take it for what it is, but if you are around me, than i can see how these words can affect our relationship as friends, confidants, and even lovers. I took this site down several times, changed the name, moved to a different address and such, but i always felt an emptiness after that, as if by doing so i was cheating myself. Finally i said, "fuck it." and figured that if someone can read these words and find some solace in them, or read these words and say, "hey, i feel like that sometimes too." than maybe i was doing something right. This is what i know, and this is how i sift through the madness of life. Some people paint, some people write, other people drink heavily. I cannot drink heavily (coming from an alcoholic family.) so i've got to find an outlet that will make me not want to destroy the world. We all have the liberty to click that little "x" in the corner of our windows to close out this box and clean our minds from this. But for some reason, it always seems like whoever it is at the time, refuses to do so, and they continue on, into the layers of this bullshit to try and find some meaning in it.
I'm trying to be the best guy that i can be, and always trying to be a better person than what i am. I want to find at least some kind of tangible truth in my life, and writing it all down seems to me like the positive way to draw a more peaceful existence. But words do hurt. But is that not the price we pay in order to move forward? Am i selfish by indulging myself in sex, violence, women, fine drink and madness? Yes i very well may be fucked up int he head, or i may like these things the same way some people like sports or backgammon. We're all different.
My point is that i've hurt several people with the things i've written here. But alas, if i get rid of these words, then i may have no where else to rid myself of all of this, and it may come out in other aspects of my life. I was an angry man, a mean person, a loner for so long, and just when i think i may be doing something right, i turn around and become brave, too brave perhaps for my own well being. Now i have a choice, do i take the site down to satisfy those in my life who feel hurt by me? Or do i keep it up and let them keep reading, keep judging me for who i really am under the black shirt and jeans i wear everyday?
In the end, you have to live with yourself for as long as you got until your time card gets punched. And by doing so, do i live for others or do i live for me? It's easy to say, "Oh, Live for YOURSELF." But in reality, does it really sound that great? Do you know how many people i've pushed away with simple words? Do you know how much flak i've got for a story that wasn't even true, but i made sound like it was my own? Do i even care that you care? I do care. I'm not a heartless bastard for god's sake! I'm a human. and you're a human.
anytime someone is mean to me, hurtful, or just downright vindictive i look at my own behavior and say, "What did i do to make them react this way? Why are they so mad at me? How did i hurt them?"
I think that when reading what i wrote, you shouldn't be pointing your finger at me, and telling me that i'm a bad person, or that i judge people, or that i'm just a drunk stupid asshole. Maybe, if you think i'm talking about you somewhere (which is self indulgent on your part) maybe you should ask yourself what you did to piss me off in the first place? I have never heard a heartfelt apology from anybody in my life. Maybe instead of judging me for what i wrote, you should be asking what it is that made me want to write these things? A book is a book and words are words, none of it matters unless you make it matter. What's that saying? For the one finger you point at me there's three pointed right back and one pointed to god (if you believe in that fucker).
maybe the world's just fucked up and i'm trying to figure it out one word at a time? That's more than you can say for yourself. Or is it?
pull the safety off and cock and Que your thumb for action.
pull the safety off and cock and Que your thumb for action.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Now What am I going to Do for a Friend?
Give me a few minutes of your time.
Just as a heads up, this will take at least 20mins of your time, so if you can't spare that much, then don't even try.
I started thinking to myself about movies that made me cry. I don't remember the last time i cried in real life. It must of been at least when i was 18, or before that. I wondered what it was about these movies that really got to me, and after a few good pints, a few slugs off the bottle, i got to thinking, and it led me way further down that hole than i ever wanted to go.
Lets start with the ending to Gran Torino. Lets, for a moment, put aside all of the bullshit about bad acting and story arc and blah blah blah. Let's go straight for the heart, straight for the core of the movie. This isn't a father-son relationship. It came across more as two people from different cultures, different times, and different lives who somehow stumble upon being friends. In any case, one wonders why they are friends with someone in the first place? I believe that ground lays upon selfishness, you obviously see that the person has something to offer and inject into your life, something that you would like to be exposed to, so your curiosity wonders what it is about this person that intrigues you? They both exchange from the benefit, Walt gets someone that he can sift all of his shit onto and Thao gets a friend who can show him the ropes of the real world. Through the madness they tolerate each other's opposition but refer back to their initial tether, which keeps them both at bay together. They have this basic acceptance, not a racial acceptance, not a gender acceptance, not even a generation acceptance, but an acceptance as a human with something to offer greater than the slow drawl of life.
What makes me cry at the end of this movie, each and every time, is the scene above. Walt is a no bullshit kind of guy, he calls it like he sees it, and although everyone tries to put that label on themselves, when it really comes down to being honest and knowing that you'll possibly hurt someones feelings, Walt pulls through and spits it straight from inside without any kind of filter. A man like me can appreciate that. "The Unforgiving Truth." As the lawyer reads his will, with straight honesty from a deceased Walt, his grand daughter has a look of hope in her eyes. This makes me happy, because as the crushing blow of reality comes down on her, and the following words are said: my friend... Thao Vang Lor. On the condition that you don't chop-top the roof like one of those beaners, don't paint any idiotic flames on it like some white trash hillbilly, and don't put a big, gay spoiler on the rear end like you see on all the other zipperheads' cars. It just looks like hell. If you can refrain from doing any of that... it's yours.
.... Disappointment washes over her dead eyes. I often wonder how women react to this part of the movie. This is where i begin to tear up. They as friends, have gone through so much, and now, something that was merely an object has this unobtainable value that no one except Thao can understand. That my dear friends, is like giving a stranger a rock, and they toss it onto the curb. But giving someone who you helped dig that rock out with the same item, holds value in it, because you both have this understanding that is only between you and them. A friend. It's a gift that you can never say "thank you" or give back to. A final blow to the heart of love.
Now lets move onto Slc Punk. Steve-O and Heroine Bob are friends since early years. Bob strikes me as that kind of good hearted friend who is slightly naive but also critical and logical, although when drunk, can become way to critical of himself and wonder about his existence. I clicked with this movie, because I can share Bobs look in the mirror, wondering just what the fuck was going on, and how it got this far? And also riding home and spilling my heart about marriage, parents, and all the other horseshit babble we had to grow up with. (i understand that i am not special. We all had these problems growing up and dealt with them in one way or another.) But what really kills me about this last part is watching Steve-O realize that his only friend he ever had, his only friend that shared any kind of connection with, is laying there dead. It is true, that no one is ever ready for that, and it is also true, that only posers die you fucking idiot. But on the first plane, the thing that grabs me, is that no matter how much they battle through, (bobs dad trying to shoot them. Bob falling in love with Trish and leaving Steve-o out in the cold, bob moving on with his life, steve-o trying to move on with his, but feeling beaten by everyones happiness) they still revert back to that tether they had, that friendship, that simple thing that can never properly be described with justice, but only hold static in the air forever.
Both movies hold the same traits for me. Acceptance, understanding, a comradery that runs so deep it could never be fully understood except by the parties involved. I have this now with my roommate who i call my brother. Theres this thing between us, that no matter how far we push each other, we know when to come back and how exactly to come back in the right way. There's inside jokes, small bits of humor that anyone outside of this apartment will never understand. Walt and Thao, Steve-o and Bob. I wondered why these movies made me cry, and i figured it was the loss of someone who only you truly know. My next step was wondering how i could transfer those same feelings that are shared with a best friend onto a relationship between myself and a woman. That's a tough one.
Women were always a mystery to me, a mystery and a prize. I don't see how a woman can ever really be attracted to a man. We're fat, we smell, we're sweaty and somewhat dense, in short, we have nothing attractive about us. But a woman on the other hand, well shit... come on now... you're soft and sensual, even if you're rough and hard, you still have those frilly edges whether you like them or not. Your skin is soft, eyes like diamonds, hair like a Persian rug and the style of a cat. If men are dogs, then i'm glad women are cats. Sexy fucking cats.
Friendships involve a certain amount of respect and honesty. Everyone in a relationship demands honesty to a point, but is it really honestly honesty that you can handle? Yeah i said it twice. It makes sense. Go back and read it again. Okay, i feel that i may be dwindling off to a track on the wrong line. So give me a goddamn break to grab some more rum.
Alright, so first things fucking last, we've come this far, and all of this heavy drinking has seemed to clear my mind a bit as oppose to fogging it up. What is this mysterious air that keeps us from loving our wife like we love our brother? I believe it involves power. There's a power struggle in relationships between men and women. It's there, you can always feel it. In my life, i always had low self esteem. i fucking hate myself, and that's cool, i learned to live with it, i can't really see why a woman would like me or even be attracted to me in any sense, but i do know that i've got some value, something to offer, something solid and noteworthy, but i also know that i'm not any different than the other millions and billions of people here, so i don't really sweat that part of the equation. I'm good to you if you're good to me, and that's what it comes down to. Respect. Respect over power. But the tidy line is that you cannot demand respect or power from me, but must earn it. You've got to show me that under all that beauty lies something worth taking the time to figure out, understand, and ultimately fondle under my flannel blankets in our cold apartment. When I'm sick you come to me, and when you're sick I come to you. Soup for you, soup for me. Whats that? You just got in a car accident? Well shit, let me call work to cancel the day and come right over. But i won't do these things for you unless i know you're willing to go to bat for me, and the only way to know these things is to tackle them as they come.
I think about the previous women in my life, and although they were beautiful, and wonderful, i couldn't ever really see myself being honest with them. Because my honesty is to a fault, i bleed negativity and cynicism with small trace elements of hope and wonderlust. My humor is dark and makes sense in my head, but probably comes across as some gurgling sound. I am a difficult man to understand (or so i think) but i also don't make it easy for others to become close to me, because i cannot tolerate any kind of horse or bullshit. But you have to give in to get a little back. Vis a Vis.
Then i wonder if perhaps i came to this conclusion out of trying to find a peaceful understand in my relationship with the woman. This is a two sided street. On one hand, the alcohol and cigarettes mixed with the amphetamines may perhaps be making me delusional and stray away from reality (i just caught myself drooling).
On the other hand, maybe i am trying to take the small bits of my life that are true and decently understood, and honest, and finding a way to incorporate those into something that i know inside feels real, but is clouded with my previous inhibitions about the opposite sex and their mysterious ways of doing things. I feel as though this may be a step forth in the correct direction as i'm growing up. I see myself letting go of all those things i thought were great before, but now just seem lost and childish, and embracing things that have a value, a genuine purpose, something that is no longer abstract and vague, but solid and i can really grab a hold of. I want what I damn well want and don't want what they tell me i should want. Life is not without it's time wasting ability to live until you've driven yourself mad.
Just as a heads up, this will take at least 20mins of your time, so if you can't spare that much, then don't even try.
and now watch this:
I started thinking to myself about movies that made me cry. I don't remember the last time i cried in real life. It must of been at least when i was 18, or before that. I wondered what it was about these movies that really got to me, and after a few good pints, a few slugs off the bottle, i got to thinking, and it led me way further down that hole than i ever wanted to go.
Lets start with the ending to Gran Torino. Lets, for a moment, put aside all of the bullshit about bad acting and story arc and blah blah blah. Let's go straight for the heart, straight for the core of the movie. This isn't a father-son relationship. It came across more as two people from different cultures, different times, and different lives who somehow stumble upon being friends. In any case, one wonders why they are friends with someone in the first place? I believe that ground lays upon selfishness, you obviously see that the person has something to offer and inject into your life, something that you would like to be exposed to, so your curiosity wonders what it is about this person that intrigues you? They both exchange from the benefit, Walt gets someone that he can sift all of his shit onto and Thao gets a friend who can show him the ropes of the real world. Through the madness they tolerate each other's opposition but refer back to their initial tether, which keeps them both at bay together. They have this basic acceptance, not a racial acceptance, not a gender acceptance, not even a generation acceptance, but an acceptance as a human with something to offer greater than the slow drawl of life.
What makes me cry at the end of this movie, each and every time, is the scene above. Walt is a no bullshit kind of guy, he calls it like he sees it, and although everyone tries to put that label on themselves, when it really comes down to being honest and knowing that you'll possibly hurt someones feelings, Walt pulls through and spits it straight from inside without any kind of filter. A man like me can appreciate that. "The Unforgiving Truth." As the lawyer reads his will, with straight honesty from a deceased Walt, his grand daughter has a look of hope in her eyes. This makes me happy, because as the crushing blow of reality comes down on her, and the following words are said: my friend... Thao Vang Lor. On the condition that you don't chop-top the roof like one of those beaners, don't paint any idiotic flames on it like some white trash hillbilly, and don't put a big, gay spoiler on the rear end like you see on all the other zipperheads' cars. It just looks like hell. If you can refrain from doing any of that... it's yours.
.... Disappointment washes over her dead eyes. I often wonder how women react to this part of the movie. This is where i begin to tear up. They as friends, have gone through so much, and now, something that was merely an object has this unobtainable value that no one except Thao can understand. That my dear friends, is like giving a stranger a rock, and they toss it onto the curb. But giving someone who you helped dig that rock out with the same item, holds value in it, because you both have this understanding that is only between you and them. A friend. It's a gift that you can never say "thank you" or give back to. A final blow to the heart of love.
Now lets move onto Slc Punk. Steve-O and Heroine Bob are friends since early years. Bob strikes me as that kind of good hearted friend who is slightly naive but also critical and logical, although when drunk, can become way to critical of himself and wonder about his existence. I clicked with this movie, because I can share Bobs look in the mirror, wondering just what the fuck was going on, and how it got this far? And also riding home and spilling my heart about marriage, parents, and all the other horseshit babble we had to grow up with. (i understand that i am not special. We all had these problems growing up and dealt with them in one way or another.) But what really kills me about this last part is watching Steve-O realize that his only friend he ever had, his only friend that shared any kind of connection with, is laying there dead. It is true, that no one is ever ready for that, and it is also true, that only posers die you fucking idiot. But on the first plane, the thing that grabs me, is that no matter how much they battle through, (bobs dad trying to shoot them. Bob falling in love with Trish and leaving Steve-o out in the cold, bob moving on with his life, steve-o trying to move on with his, but feeling beaten by everyones happiness) they still revert back to that tether they had, that friendship, that simple thing that can never properly be described with justice, but only hold static in the air forever.
Both movies hold the same traits for me. Acceptance, understanding, a comradery that runs so deep it could never be fully understood except by the parties involved. I have this now with my roommate who i call my brother. Theres this thing between us, that no matter how far we push each other, we know when to come back and how exactly to come back in the right way. There's inside jokes, small bits of humor that anyone outside of this apartment will never understand. Walt and Thao, Steve-o and Bob. I wondered why these movies made me cry, and i figured it was the loss of someone who only you truly know. My next step was wondering how i could transfer those same feelings that are shared with a best friend onto a relationship between myself and a woman. That's a tough one.
Women were always a mystery to me, a mystery and a prize. I don't see how a woman can ever really be attracted to a man. We're fat, we smell, we're sweaty and somewhat dense, in short, we have nothing attractive about us. But a woman on the other hand, well shit... come on now... you're soft and sensual, even if you're rough and hard, you still have those frilly edges whether you like them or not. Your skin is soft, eyes like diamonds, hair like a Persian rug and the style of a cat. If men are dogs, then i'm glad women are cats. Sexy fucking cats.
Friendships involve a certain amount of respect and honesty. Everyone in a relationship demands honesty to a point, but is it really honestly honesty that you can handle? Yeah i said it twice. It makes sense. Go back and read it again. Okay, i feel that i may be dwindling off to a track on the wrong line. So give me a goddamn break to grab some more rum.
Alright, so first things fucking last, we've come this far, and all of this heavy drinking has seemed to clear my mind a bit as oppose to fogging it up. What is this mysterious air that keeps us from loving our wife like we love our brother? I believe it involves power. There's a power struggle in relationships between men and women. It's there, you can always feel it. In my life, i always had low self esteem. i fucking hate myself, and that's cool, i learned to live with it, i can't really see why a woman would like me or even be attracted to me in any sense, but i do know that i've got some value, something to offer, something solid and noteworthy, but i also know that i'm not any different than the other millions and billions of people here, so i don't really sweat that part of the equation. I'm good to you if you're good to me, and that's what it comes down to. Respect. Respect over power. But the tidy line is that you cannot demand respect or power from me, but must earn it. You've got to show me that under all that beauty lies something worth taking the time to figure out, understand, and ultimately fondle under my flannel blankets in our cold apartment. When I'm sick you come to me, and when you're sick I come to you. Soup for you, soup for me. Whats that? You just got in a car accident? Well shit, let me call work to cancel the day and come right over. But i won't do these things for you unless i know you're willing to go to bat for me, and the only way to know these things is to tackle them as they come.
I think about the previous women in my life, and although they were beautiful, and wonderful, i couldn't ever really see myself being honest with them. Because my honesty is to a fault, i bleed negativity and cynicism with small trace elements of hope and wonderlust. My humor is dark and makes sense in my head, but probably comes across as some gurgling sound. I am a difficult man to understand (or so i think) but i also don't make it easy for others to become close to me, because i cannot tolerate any kind of horse or bullshit. But you have to give in to get a little back. Vis a Vis.
Then i wonder if perhaps i came to this conclusion out of trying to find a peaceful understand in my relationship with the woman. This is a two sided street. On one hand, the alcohol and cigarettes mixed with the amphetamines may perhaps be making me delusional and stray away from reality (i just caught myself drooling).
On the other hand, maybe i am trying to take the small bits of my life that are true and decently understood, and honest, and finding a way to incorporate those into something that i know inside feels real, but is clouded with my previous inhibitions about the opposite sex and their mysterious ways of doing things. I feel as though this may be a step forth in the correct direction as i'm growing up. I see myself letting go of all those things i thought were great before, but now just seem lost and childish, and embracing things that have a value, a genuine purpose, something that is no longer abstract and vague, but solid and i can really grab a hold of. I want what I damn well want and don't want what they tell me i should want. Life is not without it's time wasting ability to live until you've driven yourself mad.
I Actually Enjoy This Kinda Response
On Mon, Aug 30, 2010 at 8:58 PM, Alex Rocha <alex_rocha83@hotmail.com> wrote:
> Editor,
> My name is Alexander Rocha, i'm from Los Angeles, and here is a nice
> poem dribbled from the mind of a 25 year old pervert. You guys have been
> real good to me before, i dig your style, so i figure i'd send along the
> good ones that i write out every once in a while.
> please enjoy
> -thanks
> alexander rocha
Response:
Mad Greetings, Alex Rocha!
Well, we gotta say, although we appreciate the grit and honesty in
"Separation of State", we feel it's a bit raw for the Swirl.
We like your previous submissions and ask you to continue submitting
your poetry. You've got a unique voice and point of view we think is
great for the Swirl. We just feel that this one will likely peave
more folks than it pleases. OK, it's our opinion - we editors are a
subjective lot.
Let's see more . . .
Really!
Peace,
MH@Mad
The Poem
> Editor,
> My name is Alexander Rocha, i'm from Los Angeles, and here is a nice
> poem dribbled from the mind of a 25 year old pervert. You guys have been
> real good to me before, i dig your style, so i figure i'd send along the
> good ones that i write out every once in a while.
> please enjoy
> -thanks
> alexander rocha
Response:
Mad Greetings, Alex Rocha!
Well, we gotta say, although we appreciate the grit and honesty in
"Separation of State", we feel it's a bit raw for the Swirl.
We like your previous submissions and ask you to continue submitting
your poetry. You've got a unique voice and point of view we think is
great for the Swirl. We just feel that this one will likely peave
more folks than it pleases. OK, it's our opinion - we editors are a
subjective lot.
Let's see more . . .
Really!
Peace,
MH@Mad
The Poem
Separation of State
my cock and balls are calling for you
they long for your warm embrace
they want to be held and fondled
and smothered in your face
my cock and balls are yearning for you
burning to be in your mouth
as the saliva drips down from your lips
and lands on the stripped, stained, comforter of my bed
and all the while
you stare at me with those big doe eyes
my cock and balls want to be held
in your hands, in your warm loving smell
they want to be nuzzled between your legs
as we spoon on that forgotten cloud
until they can't take it anymore
my cock and balls,
they want to scream out loud
my cock and balls want some action
they want to be apart of your party
be apart of your sex
to bathe themselves in your juices
wiggle between those luscious thighs waiting for you to call them in
they long for your warm embrace
they want to be held and fondled
and smothered in your face
my cock and balls are yearning for you
burning to be in your mouth
as the saliva drips down from your lips
and lands on the stripped, stained, comforter of my bed
and all the while
you stare at me with those big doe eyes
my cock and balls want to be held
in your hands, in your warm loving smell
they want to be nuzzled between your legs
as we spoon on that forgotten cloud
until they can't take it anymore
my cock and balls,
they want to scream out loud
my cock and balls want some action
they want to be apart of your party
be apart of your sex
to bathe themselves in your juices
wiggle between those luscious thighs waiting for you to call them in
and crawl
my cock and balls don't care what you've done
what you've said
what you are
or what you claim to be
they merely want you to fuck them
and squeeze the juice from the tree on my trunk
onto your face, your chest, your back, and anywhere they can reach
my cock and balls don't care that you're
empty inside
as long as those juices continue to flow
my cock and balls will be there for you
but me,
my honesty
my longevity to you
it never won't
my cock and balls don't care what you've done
what you've said
what you are
or what you claim to be
they merely want you to fuck them
and squeeze the juice from the tree on my trunk
onto your face, your chest, your back, and anywhere they can reach
my cock and balls don't care that you're
empty inside
as long as those juices continue to flow
my cock and balls will be there for you
but me,
my honesty
my longevity to you
it never won't
Sunday, December 5, 2010
The Hearts of Men
I'm not tall,
I'm not handsome,
I'm not good looking at all.
I don't have a nice smile
i don't have a great attitude,
neither do I have money
a sign of upancomings,
or any kind of stature.
I'm losing my hair
at the tender age of 25,
I thought this shit wasn't suppose to happen until i'm 30 at least?
but better than i know
i'm losing it now,
than losing it at 35
or 40
and create some kind of bullshit
mid-life crisis
or 1/4 life crisis (which only fools have)
to try and feel better about themselves.
I'm tired,
I tolerate everything
my job
my girlfriend
my friends
my life,
because i have to.
I have to tolerate all this shit.
and that in itself
proves a mans worth.
We have no choice to.
If not, we'd end up like Thoreau
writing some sorry collections of words.
Stringing together some bullshit recollection of how things should be
and how we can't live with them.
So we have two choices now,
either we move away from all the bullshit
and eventually become Ted Kaczynski
or we learn to live with it.
I want to love (which is a preconceived notion planted in our heads by society)
I really don't think you understand it.
We are not manwhores
we are not bad people
that's just your inner defense pushing us away
but sooner than later
we'll stop being patient with you
and just walk away
because that's what we do.
Don't be so cynical
or jaded
you're getting old and i can see it
from here
don't be such a bitch
so bad inside as a person
we're trying the best we can
the hardest we can push
and if that's not enough for you
than go fuck with somebody else's life
because at least
at the end
we can say
we did everything in our power to make you happy.
Do you know
how fucking lucky you even are?
in this time and age
to have a guy who will even listen to your babbling bullshit?
We're trying to be good
but your cynicism makes us bad
so you
EVE
made us eat the apple
that damned us forever
and it goes on
for ages and ages
until we can't go with you any further
and we hate you
you made us hate you
with your jealousy
with your lousy stupid attitude
with your questions
with your stupid fights over nothing
with you wanting us to be respectful
but still be men.
We are men
trying to be good to you
and you're so fucking blind
that you can't even see that.
and when we walk away
from a bad situation
we are damned the bad men in this
when in reality
you did nothing to help
you did nothing to understand
you only pushed
and pushed
and fucking pushed
us until we were gone
and you have no one to blame
but your fucked up self
you in the inside are rotten
while at least we make an attempt to be good.
we try
we try oh so hard
you on the other hand
just expect.
expect everything.
and that,
well,
i could be honest
but i rather be good.
that's just rotten to the core.
you've got worms
infecting your brain
and your head should be fumigated.
don't be so horrible
don't expect us to be perfect
because we're not
but at least we fucking TRY
we TRY to be the guy you could love
while we
we have to love you for all your faults
all your fucked up inhibitions
all your badness
while you only point out the badness in us.
we want to love you fully
completely
utterly until death
but you
are the one who complicates
everything
and this.
this.
this.
leaves us with no choice
but to be dicks.
I'm not handsome,
I'm not good looking at all.
I don't have a nice smile
i don't have a great attitude,
neither do I have money
a sign of upancomings,
or any kind of stature.
I'm losing my hair
at the tender age of 25,
I thought this shit wasn't suppose to happen until i'm 30 at least?
but better than i know
i'm losing it now,
than losing it at 35
or 40
and create some kind of bullshit
mid-life crisis
or 1/4 life crisis (which only fools have)
to try and feel better about themselves.
I'm tired,
I tolerate everything
my job
my girlfriend
my friends
my life,
because i have to.
I have to tolerate all this shit.
and that in itself
proves a mans worth.
We have no choice to.
If not, we'd end up like Thoreau
writing some sorry collections of words.
Stringing together some bullshit recollection of how things should be
and how we can't live with them.
So we have two choices now,
either we move away from all the bullshit
and eventually become Ted Kaczynski
or we learn to live with it.
I want to love (which is a preconceived notion planted in our heads by society)
I really don't think you understand it.
We are not manwhores
we are not bad people
that's just your inner defense pushing us away
but sooner than later
we'll stop being patient with you
and just walk away
because that's what we do.
Don't be so cynical
or jaded
you're getting old and i can see it
from here
don't be such a bitch
so bad inside as a person
we're trying the best we can
the hardest we can push
and if that's not enough for you
than go fuck with somebody else's life
because at least
at the end
we can say
we did everything in our power to make you happy.
Do you know
how fucking lucky you even are?
in this time and age
to have a guy who will even listen to your babbling bullshit?
We're trying to be good
but your cynicism makes us bad
so you
EVE
made us eat the apple
that damned us forever
and it goes on
for ages and ages
until we can't go with you any further
and we hate you
you made us hate you
with your jealousy
with your lousy stupid attitude
with your questions
with your stupid fights over nothing
with you wanting us to be respectful
but still be men.
We are men
trying to be good to you
and you're so fucking blind
that you can't even see that.
and when we walk away
from a bad situation
we are damned the bad men in this
when in reality
you did nothing to help
you did nothing to understand
you only pushed
and pushed
and fucking pushed
us until we were gone
and you have no one to blame
but your fucked up self
you in the inside are rotten
while at least we make an attempt to be good.
we try
we try oh so hard
you on the other hand
just expect.
expect everything.
and that,
well,
i could be honest
but i rather be good.
that's just rotten to the core.
you've got worms
infecting your brain
and your head should be fumigated.
don't be so horrible
don't expect us to be perfect
because we're not
but at least we fucking TRY
we TRY to be the guy you could love
while we
we have to love you for all your faults
all your fucked up inhibitions
all your badness
while you only point out the badness in us.
we want to love you fully
completely
utterly until death
but you
are the one who complicates
everything
and this.
this.
this.
leaves us with no choice
but to be dicks.
Friday, December 3, 2010
And Another Thing...
I was stinking drunk by then, overstepping, teeter totting, knuckles scrapped and slightly ragged, i pushed open the driver side door and fell out of the car. The asphalt was cold, coldness made the rugged rocky blacktop feel harsher than it really was.Up and coming, a pair of headlights, i worked myself up onto my haunches and hid behind the car. Were they following me? How the hell did they find out where i lived? I thought i lost that tail way back behind the reservoir, I saw it with my own two eyes, the car sliding sideways into the mud wall. But, no, it couldn't be, they were back now, the headlights were coming closer, i scrunched myself into a ball hoping that i could become smaller and smaller until i eventually disappeared. The fear was a small ball of knots in my stomach.
The car slowed as it passed me, and pulled up 2 spots and parked. Through the shadows and ricochet of the moon i saw that they were both wearing hats, cigarette glowing faintly like two firefly's. I slowly crept behind the rest of the cars picking up rocks and putting them in my coat pocket. Pulled out my cell phone and dialed the station.
"Harvey? Hey it's me. Yeah I know i owe you for last weeks game. Hey clear your ear for a second, i'm looking out my window and theres a couple of punks throwing rocks at houses, they're in a small Hudson.... Send over a car, put a little fear in them huh? Thanks. See you Sunday. Oh, and don't forget my fucking watch huh?"
I stopped between a big long Chrysler and a Ford coupe, laying down with my head on the curb. The sky was relatively clear, Venus shinning off in the distance somewhere like a giant eyeball, starring down at me. Gods eye. Gathering the rocks into a fistful of tiny boulders, I gave them a mighty fling into the windows of the house in front of the Hudson. There was shuffling inside of the house, and the perimeter lights flicked on, the Hudson was illuminated now, driver and passenger both startled, the car rumbled to life and i heard the parking brake being released. Everything was happening slowly then, the house owner coming out onto his porch with shotgun in hand, and the small Hudson that the two men were in began trying to make it's escape. Some yelling went on, and I saw this as my opportunity to run. I grasped at my coat flaps and dashed across the street, low, low dashing, as if the war was on, and if i didn't keep my head low a bullet would catch me right in the temple. I held my hat on my head with one hand and my coat closed with the other while running across the street. I made it to the sidewalk and didn't bother to inspect any further, hustling up those steps and onto my doorstep. I fumbled with my keys and put them in the lock. More yelling, and then finally, a shotgun blast. I kicked open the door with my foot and dashed inside, closing it behind me and double bolting it. Then i put the chain on for good measure, one can never be too safe.
She was laying there on the couch, bundled up in an old thick blanket under the front windows. Her long hair was spread over the pillow and her little fist were balled up holding the blanket under her chin. I saw those gorgeous eyes peering at me through the dark in the white light the television gave off and i melted then. Instantly forgetting everything that had happened in the last hour, watching her lay there curled up like a cat under a car muffler on a cold morning. Loving her was like being drunk and rich.
"hey."
"hey."
i rushed over to the windows and shut the blinds. I peered out between the Venetians watching for the Hudson. It was gone now, the neighbors lights were off, everything was back to normal. It was quiet and desolate out there, not a soul in sight, the night was done with everything, it sucked everything into it's silence and anyone who wasn't inside of something may have just as well been dunked into that black sprawling hole of silence. It was the cold, dark battlefield after a ten years war. Everything dead and still after several burst of action.
Walking towards the bar to pour myself one, i could feel those eyes tracking me in the dark. She didn't say anything yet, probably figuring out my mood, seeing how she would play this one. She was intuitive like that. I grasped for the first bottle with shaking and sweating hands pouring into my coffee mug, not bothering to throw out the stale coffee from the morning, and shot it down my throat with regularity. I poured out another and asked her if she would like one.
"looks like you're going for both of us."
i chuckled, she knew what was where. i poured her out a small one and sat in the chair next to the couch. I leaned back and threw my hat on the table.
"You're sweating."
"It's a hot night." - this while she curled up in that blanket like meat in a burrito.
"Whats the deal?"
"It's been a rough one dear."
"You're drunk aren't you? You've been drinking. You smell like piss and whiskey."
"hey, hey, hey, don't start with that shit huh? I had a few."
"No. I can tell. You're shot to hell. Hold out your hand."
"Why do i have to hold out my hand?"
"Why do you not want to hold out your hand? Whatcha hiding?"
"aww hell." - i held out my hand and tried to keep her steady, but she shook like a fiend.
"I KNEW IT!"
"ahhhh.. don't start in. It was a tough one already."
"Where'd you go?"
"The Boar"
"Hmph."
"What?"
"Who went with you?"
"I went alone."
"You went to see that hussy didn't you?"
"Which one we talking bout?" - I loved to poke at her in this fashion.
"The BLONDE ONE!" - She sat up then and pushed the blanket off of her. She was so beautiful, even in her sleepwear.
"No, no, no. I told you, ain't nothing doing. We're all over. It's just you and I."
"I bet. She buy you a drink?"
"No. I sat over in the corner by the chalk board with my head in the notebook the whole time. I was writing see?" - I pulled out my pocket book and showed her the scribbles.
"So she wasn't there?"
"No, she was there, but I ignored her the whole time. We didn't even glance at each other."
"Of all the damn bars, you have to go there."
"I like it there, they carry my rye. and it's cheap."
"Sure. Why are you sweating?"
"They followed me home."
"Who? HeR?"
"no, no no. the suits. they been following me all goddamn day. They think i'm wrapped up in all of it somehow."
"i think you're a dirty stinking liar."
"oh lay off won't you?"
"I knew something was up. I felt it in my bones. I'm perceptive about this kinda stuff."
-Just then the phone rang. I let it ring. I didn't want to get up.
"Fine. I'll get it." - She sprang up and reached for the handle. It stopped ringing then.
I don't know what happened next. It all went down too quick. The sounds were slow and drawing, glass shattering, loud pops, my ears were ringing. I didn't know what my body was doing but i shot out of that goddamn chair and leaped over the coffee table and tackled her to the ground. The television broke our fall and we rolled into each others arms as we hit the carpet. I put my body over hers to protect her. The glass continued to shatter and rain down over us. I could hear the bullets whizzing and burying themselves into the drywall above our position. When the shots slowed down I kicked over the coffee table and put her behind it. I nabbed the shotgun that was taped to the bottom of it and put my hat back on it's proper head. Those son of a bitches were in for some hell. I crawled for the back door and opened her up. Jumping over the railing into the back alley. My ankles took a mean shock hitting the ground, i almost couldn't walk after that, thinking i broke both of them in one foul leap, but gaining momentum i made it over to the high wood fence and stuck the nuzzle of the gun chest center. They never came, and i could hear the Hudson revving up around the corner, I positioned myself atop some trashcans and laid her steady, with the Hudson in it's sights, i was going for the big time, i aimed for the driver side and shot her one good. The kickback was nothing like i remember and i landed back on my ass. Scrambling up, I peered through the door and saw the Hudson jump the curb and clip a tree. It skidded back towards the opposing side of street and onto someones lawn. I pumped once for luck and another for insurance.
Two figures were still seated there as I mosied up. Sitting back a minute i saw the driver kick open the door and fall out. The passenger was next and I dropped him with the butt to the back of the head, then hit him in the face for good measure. The lawn owner came out and I screamed to call the coppers. I took their guns, their wallets, and their phones.
When i got in she was sitting in the middle of the room with the blanket over her head. There was a kitchen knife in her hands. A big long sucker with a shining blade.
"hey."
"hey."
I came over and hugged her. We fell onto the carpet and starred into our respective eyes.
"I love you."
"I, i, i love you too."
"I'm sorry."
"Why are you sorry?"
"I'm sorry i was bad jealous girlfriend."
"hey, don't sweat it. I've been bad jealous boyfriend, i think this makes us square."
"yeah."
"That was a close one."
"Yeah."
"Listen, when you can hear the time clicking away, it really puts things into focus. We could both be dead now, or one of us could be dead and the other has to live with the burden of leaving off on the bad foot. I don't want that. We belong together. Like ketchup on meatloaf. You're my rib woman. All this other shit out here, it's just pointless babble, but you and I, that's what matters most."
"um."
i put my finger to her mouth.
"shhhh.. don't say anything."
I grabbed her chin and pulled her mouth to me. Just like in the movies. That's what they do at the end right? They kiss? So we kissed then. But this woman i had been kissing for four years tasted new that night. That night it tasted unique. It tasted like the beginning and end. Every kiss after that, every touch, every small bit of paradise felt like the first and last time, and each time i held it, burying it deep into my mind, so that when my clock did run out, and i was laying on my back, those last few moments would be with her. My rib.
The car slowed as it passed me, and pulled up 2 spots and parked. Through the shadows and ricochet of the moon i saw that they were both wearing hats, cigarette glowing faintly like two firefly's. I slowly crept behind the rest of the cars picking up rocks and putting them in my coat pocket. Pulled out my cell phone and dialed the station.
"Harvey? Hey it's me. Yeah I know i owe you for last weeks game. Hey clear your ear for a second, i'm looking out my window and theres a couple of punks throwing rocks at houses, they're in a small Hudson.... Send over a car, put a little fear in them huh? Thanks. See you Sunday. Oh, and don't forget my fucking watch huh?"
I stopped between a big long Chrysler and a Ford coupe, laying down with my head on the curb. The sky was relatively clear, Venus shinning off in the distance somewhere like a giant eyeball, starring down at me. Gods eye. Gathering the rocks into a fistful of tiny boulders, I gave them a mighty fling into the windows of the house in front of the Hudson. There was shuffling inside of the house, and the perimeter lights flicked on, the Hudson was illuminated now, driver and passenger both startled, the car rumbled to life and i heard the parking brake being released. Everything was happening slowly then, the house owner coming out onto his porch with shotgun in hand, and the small Hudson that the two men were in began trying to make it's escape. Some yelling went on, and I saw this as my opportunity to run. I grasped at my coat flaps and dashed across the street, low, low dashing, as if the war was on, and if i didn't keep my head low a bullet would catch me right in the temple. I held my hat on my head with one hand and my coat closed with the other while running across the street. I made it to the sidewalk and didn't bother to inspect any further, hustling up those steps and onto my doorstep. I fumbled with my keys and put them in the lock. More yelling, and then finally, a shotgun blast. I kicked open the door with my foot and dashed inside, closing it behind me and double bolting it. Then i put the chain on for good measure, one can never be too safe.
She was laying there on the couch, bundled up in an old thick blanket under the front windows. Her long hair was spread over the pillow and her little fist were balled up holding the blanket under her chin. I saw those gorgeous eyes peering at me through the dark in the white light the television gave off and i melted then. Instantly forgetting everything that had happened in the last hour, watching her lay there curled up like a cat under a car muffler on a cold morning. Loving her was like being drunk and rich.
"hey."
"hey."
i rushed over to the windows and shut the blinds. I peered out between the Venetians watching for the Hudson. It was gone now, the neighbors lights were off, everything was back to normal. It was quiet and desolate out there, not a soul in sight, the night was done with everything, it sucked everything into it's silence and anyone who wasn't inside of something may have just as well been dunked into that black sprawling hole of silence. It was the cold, dark battlefield after a ten years war. Everything dead and still after several burst of action.
Walking towards the bar to pour myself one, i could feel those eyes tracking me in the dark. She didn't say anything yet, probably figuring out my mood, seeing how she would play this one. She was intuitive like that. I grasped for the first bottle with shaking and sweating hands pouring into my coffee mug, not bothering to throw out the stale coffee from the morning, and shot it down my throat with regularity. I poured out another and asked her if she would like one.
"looks like you're going for both of us."
i chuckled, she knew what was where. i poured her out a small one and sat in the chair next to the couch. I leaned back and threw my hat on the table.
"You're sweating."
"It's a hot night." - this while she curled up in that blanket like meat in a burrito.
"Whats the deal?"
"It's been a rough one dear."
"You're drunk aren't you? You've been drinking. You smell like piss and whiskey."
"hey, hey, hey, don't start with that shit huh? I had a few."
"No. I can tell. You're shot to hell. Hold out your hand."
"Why do i have to hold out my hand?"
"Why do you not want to hold out your hand? Whatcha hiding?"
"aww hell." - i held out my hand and tried to keep her steady, but she shook like a fiend.
"I KNEW IT!"
"ahhhh.. don't start in. It was a tough one already."
"Where'd you go?"
"The Boar"
"Hmph."
"What?"
"Who went with you?"
"I went alone."
"You went to see that hussy didn't you?"
"Which one we talking bout?" - I loved to poke at her in this fashion.
"The BLONDE ONE!" - She sat up then and pushed the blanket off of her. She was so beautiful, even in her sleepwear.
"No, no, no. I told you, ain't nothing doing. We're all over. It's just you and I."
"I bet. She buy you a drink?"
"No. I sat over in the corner by the chalk board with my head in the notebook the whole time. I was writing see?" - I pulled out my pocket book and showed her the scribbles.
"So she wasn't there?"
"No, she was there, but I ignored her the whole time. We didn't even glance at each other."
"Of all the damn bars, you have to go there."
"I like it there, they carry my rye. and it's cheap."
"Sure. Why are you sweating?"
"They followed me home."
"Who? HeR?"
"no, no no. the suits. they been following me all goddamn day. They think i'm wrapped up in all of it somehow."
"i think you're a dirty stinking liar."
"oh lay off won't you?"
"I knew something was up. I felt it in my bones. I'm perceptive about this kinda stuff."
-Just then the phone rang. I let it ring. I didn't want to get up.
"Fine. I'll get it." - She sprang up and reached for the handle. It stopped ringing then.
I don't know what happened next. It all went down too quick. The sounds were slow and drawing, glass shattering, loud pops, my ears were ringing. I didn't know what my body was doing but i shot out of that goddamn chair and leaped over the coffee table and tackled her to the ground. The television broke our fall and we rolled into each others arms as we hit the carpet. I put my body over hers to protect her. The glass continued to shatter and rain down over us. I could hear the bullets whizzing and burying themselves into the drywall above our position. When the shots slowed down I kicked over the coffee table and put her behind it. I nabbed the shotgun that was taped to the bottom of it and put my hat back on it's proper head. Those son of a bitches were in for some hell. I crawled for the back door and opened her up. Jumping over the railing into the back alley. My ankles took a mean shock hitting the ground, i almost couldn't walk after that, thinking i broke both of them in one foul leap, but gaining momentum i made it over to the high wood fence and stuck the nuzzle of the gun chest center. They never came, and i could hear the Hudson revving up around the corner, I positioned myself atop some trashcans and laid her steady, with the Hudson in it's sights, i was going for the big time, i aimed for the driver side and shot her one good. The kickback was nothing like i remember and i landed back on my ass. Scrambling up, I peered through the door and saw the Hudson jump the curb and clip a tree. It skidded back towards the opposing side of street and onto someones lawn. I pumped once for luck and another for insurance.
Two figures were still seated there as I mosied up. Sitting back a minute i saw the driver kick open the door and fall out. The passenger was next and I dropped him with the butt to the back of the head, then hit him in the face for good measure. The lawn owner came out and I screamed to call the coppers. I took their guns, their wallets, and their phones.
When i got in she was sitting in the middle of the room with the blanket over her head. There was a kitchen knife in her hands. A big long sucker with a shining blade.
"hey."
"hey."
I came over and hugged her. We fell onto the carpet and starred into our respective eyes.
"I love you."
"I, i, i love you too."
"I'm sorry."
"Why are you sorry?"
"I'm sorry i was bad jealous girlfriend."
"hey, don't sweat it. I've been bad jealous boyfriend, i think this makes us square."
"yeah."
"That was a close one."
"Yeah."
"Listen, when you can hear the time clicking away, it really puts things into focus. We could both be dead now, or one of us could be dead and the other has to live with the burden of leaving off on the bad foot. I don't want that. We belong together. Like ketchup on meatloaf. You're my rib woman. All this other shit out here, it's just pointless babble, but you and I, that's what matters most."
"um."
i put my finger to her mouth.
"shhhh.. don't say anything."
I grabbed her chin and pulled her mouth to me. Just like in the movies. That's what they do at the end right? They kiss? So we kissed then. But this woman i had been kissing for four years tasted new that night. That night it tasted unique. It tasted like the beginning and end. Every kiss after that, every touch, every small bit of paradise felt like the first and last time, and each time i held it, burying it deep into my mind, so that when my clock did run out, and i was laying on my back, those last few moments would be with her. My rib.
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