Wednesday, November 03, 2004

A Moment of Rancorous Bitterness

I wrote this a couple months ago, probably. I just ran across it, and figured, why not. Discretion is the better part of valor, but he who hesitates is lost. (Probably not as lost as he who spouts empty platitudes, however.) So here it is. No condolences, I'm in a happier place now.

Duncan hasn't written any blogs. Why? Because blogs are retarded, expulsive effluvium that people don't read. The information explosion is not a good thing. Emily Dickinson did not write blogs. Every word counts, and all these things are about is word count. Oh, crap--here I am, writing a blog. (It's no coincidence that the genre rhymes with "log.") So that makes me self-reflexive, post-modern and ironic. Barf.

I'd like to dedicate this blog o' fun to Maria, who told me she gets "hella play" on Myspace. So here I am, it's 2:00 AM Friday night, and I'm not even motivated enough to play with myself. I took a nap when I came home from work, and now I'm awake and bored off of my ass...hence, this blog. How is it treating you, dear reader? Oh, that's right--no one reads these things.

Look at me! Look at me! I'm angry and disaffected.

So I'm getting up at six A.M. to go race my bike in Livermore, which is also known as the anteroom to hell. The windows are always shut in Livermore, though, so it's a few degrees hotter.

I got a hilarious email from my ex-girlfriend yesterday. I told her that maybe she might be possibly partying a little too much, since I'm a judgmental bastard and the last time I saw her said she'd been up on coke the whole weekend. And mushrooms, she has such "spiritual breakthroughs" or some such shit while on hallucinogens. Yeah, mmm-hmmm. All that William Blake "the path of excess leads to the Tower of Wisdom" shite. (Not that she'd quote Blake on the subject...maybe a sage like E-40.) Anyhow, she replied that now, as opposed to times of using too much in the past, at least "all the drugs I want to do I can get for free." Wuh? You thought I was worried that you were paying too much? Well, so long as being a cokehead and going to the End Up at 6:00 AM are free, well, you go girl! Snort like you're possessed by the spirit of David Lee Roth...don't come crying to me six months later when you're all tapped out and you look like him, though. Speaking of Diamond Dave:

"You know you're semi-good lookin'
And on the streets again
Yeah, you think you're really cookin' baby
You'd better find yourself a friend.

Ain't talkin' 'bout love--
My love is rotten to the core."

This is a girl that I thought I was going to marry...and vice versa. And she writes and tells me, three months after we broke up, that some guy ripped her heart to bits and pissed on it. "I really thought I was going to marry this guy." So, that's two guys you were going to marry in a year? And I thought I had a problem with falling in love too much. How 'bout some Positively 4th St. here, perhaps the greatest dis song ever written:

"No, I do not feel that good
When I see the heartbreaks you embrace
If I was a master thief
Perhaps I'd rob them

And now I know you're dissatisfied
With your position and your place
Don't you understand
It's not my problem"

She left a message on my machine after the dismemberment of her heart (it's made out of Legos--you can break it apart and build a new one in minutes), apologizing for breaking my heart in the past. And I will admit, it was not all happy times and pass the soda crackers when we broke up. But, ultimately, it was like a veil of frustration lifting... And there I was, wondering just how I get myself so worked up all the time. What am I looking for when I fall in love? Someone to tell me that I'm not as fucked up as I think I am, "hey--I like you. You're okay." I want my soul validated like a parking receipt. I'm done with that shallow shit.

So, anyway, back to the email--finally, she tells me she had a vision while on mushrooms that she and I were going to be really good friends. What, I ask of you, is the dividing line between revelation and delusion? What was that? Did I hear a bell? Oh, you mean high school is over?

Okay, as far as the Noble Eight-Fold Path is concerned, this is not right speech. This is talking shit, and I will incur many karmic demerits. Do not get caught wandering the bardos without a hall pass.

No comments: