2002-08-23 - 1:11 a.m.
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Fucking Go Away
Help me diaryland. I'm broken.
It appears I can't function in the sleeping fashion, despite being completely drained of all care or energy to do anything. I've given up on today, but apparently my mind isn't happy enough with today. It apparently wants to rickarickarock till the brickabreak of dawn. Which will cause unlimited amounts of suck on my part.
Tonight is the last night I'm in Lynbrook for a while. I'm leaving to go back up to Plattsturd for the next semester. Funny, it only seems like yesterday I was ending a semester...
Wait, it was 14 yesterdays ago. Fuck my cock.
I can't stand the way things go for me. I am always too late for everything and when I get there, I leave before I can get a chance to catch my breath and enjoy where I am. Moving from the dorms to the apartment, apartment to here, here to the house, then what? Another year goes by, and not even the whole thing, and I'll be forced to come here, go somewhere else? Life is annoying like that; constantly changing. It's constantly ends and beginnings, cycles dying out into a new birth. I'm slowly making my way towards something, anything, anyone, some where, who knows. Faces go by, I might even learn a few of them, might even taste a few. Moments, whatever those are, pop up, explode, quietly walk away, but shout from far away so you never forget them.
Memories are punishment for not truly appreciating the moment. You forever get to figure out too late that it was the greatest time you've ever had.
I don't want to go back and I don't want to stay here. I have nothing to stay for, I have no one to fight for, but I really don't want to go on, don't want to finish my last few steps of servitude to my knowledge before I break my chains and wander out into the world, trying to survive the onslaught of adversity. There are no guarantees of anything, no promise of shelter or savior. You're not guaranteed a good anything, a well off anything, a promising anything. You're not guaranteed anything except that you will one day die. One day, you WILL die, that's it. That's the only WILL that will happen.
It's funny that they call the last thing you write the will.
I'm slowly finding as I move here and I move there, picking up the pieces and throwing them in the next time-being location that I have way too many pieces for my own good. Too many clothes, too many books, too many instruments. To even get all my stuff together would be a road trip with a van. I'd have to go get everything I've ever owned from too many, too many places and too many people.
I'd start with my innocence and work my way up.
All stupid puns aside, I really have way too much shit and it's tiring and it's annoying. I look at the bags I've packed, the godawful amounts of clothes piled one on top of each other, the CDs overflowing from my travel bag, the guitar I'll have to lug as it hums everytime I drop it. All that stuff so I can just pack it all up and move, pack and move, pack and move...
I made dinner tonight for my family. My dad was at work and my sister was out doing whatever the fuck she wanted. She doesn't get it yet. Probably never will. She's built with her head in her ass, too busy being all over the place, putting smiles on strangers faces to notice that there's a bunch of people here waiting for her. I sat eating my dinner that I prepared furious, not because my sister or father wasn't there, but because something else wasn't. There's no unity here anymore. Oh, there's love. There's tons of it and we all bite each others heads off in this house becuase we love each other so much that to see someone fucking up makes us irrate. I'm no fucking perfect sonvabitch. As a matter of fact, I fuck up more than most. But even I know that when I'm about to leave for a few months, I stay the fuck home because its the last chance to enjoy my family.
Or is there nothing left to enjoy? Did we have all the good times, now we're all just waiting it out till we all leave? I know my parents probably live thier robotic and dull lives a lot happier when the chaotic children we are aren't around. It allows them to barely be able to deviate from that comfortable norm they're used to, the computer always being as they can understand, the radios in the cars not being music they don't appreciate, the TV not on loud uneducated garbage instead of fulfilling television. I'm sure it puts a big dopey grin on thier faces when they come home to a bunch of silence, phone not ringing off the hook looking for this one and that, no one smashing on drums in the basement or wailing on guitar. I think they're finished with all the noise they can have.
And yet at the same time, they miss the attention, they miss the interaction, they miss the change from thier boring lives. Even if it's to yell at me, I'm sure somewhere deep down my mom or dad is happy somewhat that there's someone to yell at.
These are weird times we're in. There's so much going on, everywhere, that's its even hard to think, let alone react, let alone absorb. EVeryday I've woken up for the past 8 or 9 months, I've been told this could be the last day I'm alive because terrorism will get me (because I funded the terroists when I bought weed) or the west nile virus is going to kill me, or global warming is going to flood over my house with polar vengence for all that damn hairspray, or some yahoo can just send me anthrax or suicide bomb me or maybe it's murder today or maybe there's 12 products in my household that are dangerous for my health. EVery day, the cancers get killed, then become too strong for medicine; the crime goes up, it goes down, it's not there, it's everywhere; look out, your neighbor might not be one of us, he doesn't have the flag out on his porch. Stop drop roll, Always remember never forget, right on red...little slogans pop up here and there from time to time over and over repeatedly, barraging us all, keeping us "sane", keeping us docile. Syphoning the piss and vinegar necessary to realize we're really fucked here and no matter of enduring fucking anything or war on fucking anything is going to put us away any happier at night. There's not an under goddamn thing you can fucking do to prevent this, you stupid stupid fuck. You, the president, on the offchance that out of all the randomest randomest people out there that read this, if you are reading this, you stupid stupid stupid fuck you, we're fucked and it's not fucking alright. We were never invincible to begin with, we were just unchallenged. Now we're all softy pansies. We've kept alive all the allergic, all the special, all the downtrodden, all the diseased. We've sustained the weakest links in our gene pool and now we're full of contamination. You can't say one thing anymore without worrying about hurting someone's goddamn feelings.
Remember when people were absolute assholes? The world still spun on it's axis and we all fucking were breathing and everything, almost as if...*gasp*...it didn't fucking matter. All this no more "goddamn" on TV, all this no violent acts on TV, all this no posting images that might be offensive in newspaper, all this watching what you say, all this no cursing on the radio...what the fuck did it do for us?
We got "bombed" once. ONCE. ONE TIME. The entire country has yet to recover from it. MEanwhile, some poor kid halfway across the world from us is watching his house burn to the ground for the 5th or 6th time in his life, with I'm sure all forms of carnage, all forms of cursing and crying, all forms of violent acts going off around him. They don't sit there and shake and moan, throw up memorials for the dead. They fucking move on. He is probably picking up what sticks weren't burnt to shit and trying to put something up around himself so that he can sleep and maybe survive.
I'm typing this on a computer in a house that has never seen any of its parts, major or minor, destroyed outside of renovations. It's been here since before I was sperm and who knows how long it's been here or will be here.
We're softies. WE're big big pussys. And for all that word affected, its only a word. It didn't rape you, it didn't injure you. Your fragile mind is none of my fucking concern. As a matter of fact, my main concern is shattering your fragile mind so that you would get the sense to get something to think with that would need something stronger than a fucking word to destroy it.
MAybe I'm too cynical or apathetic for my own good. Maybe I'm too jaded or detached, too out there. Way too unimpressed for my own good. Or maybe I realize that this has been set in motion a long time ago and only now is it coming to realization.
I'm almost a full fledged adult.
And I look ahead to what I've been handed, what my insipid parents have bestowed upon me, their peers setup in hasty abandon. What the flower power truly is. This is the time of history where all those teenagers fighting for peace and love in the 60's are now blood thirsty and calling for heads because thier Dow is down and thier awareness to just how hated a country we are is up. Its about time people realized they should be scared that our businesses have spread thier tentacles across this glowing marble and sucked all that is decent and pure right out of it, right to the core, and spat it out in shrink wrap. It's all hollow, not a caring thing about this world at all. There's no more decency, no more honor. Especially honor. No one has respect for themselves or others anymore. No one has the respect for the past, the appreciation for those who have taught us the rights and wrongs, all the good things to kill all the bad things.
We've already been to Iraq. EVeryone got pissed and half the world hated us. Your dad did it, you stupid stupid idiot. Yes, I'm still talking to you. No one thought it was a good idea but us, but we did it and we patted ourselves on the back.
Now look where we are.
Do you get it yet? Do you understand it yet? ARe you going to think I'm a terrorist, think I'm the enemy now because I've called you dumb and because I'm jsut as tired of your bullshit as I am of thiers? Hell, you call for retribution for unlawful deaths...what the fuck do you think they were doing with those planes? You think they were out for a joyride and couldnt handle it? How many more lives end, how much more does the number go up? Or, to put it in business terms for you, the only you understand: WHEN DO YOU BACK OUT OF A POOR INVESTMENT?
MAybe I'm not broken. Maybe I'm one of the only people who are actually working right. MAybe I'm one of the only people who thinks that for the most part, we're all realllly ignorant and no pop music, Big Mac, Lexus, yacht, summer home, trust fund, stock tip, DVD player, designer label or mindless slogans are going to replace the fact that we have no fucking clue why the fuck we're here at all. You can be happy measuring your possessions all you want, pile them high to the sky till the scrape the sky like those buildings did.
Did.
BMC
What did you just say? - What's he gonna say next?
