Take Another Look











{March 4, 2010}   Being RESPONSIBLE

I don’t think they honestly accounted for everything in their life, and I only hang out with people who are perfectly upright and honest. Just because the trail is cold doesn’t mean that I won’t find some dirt if I continue to probe around out here. I mean seriously, all these dimwits. If you really think you can play the sanity defense on me again, than think again. I don’t want to have you come in again and say, Well, I had rational reasons for not going crazy with you. Don’t you know how badly that plays out with the press these days? They need a scandal, and if you won’t bring it to them, I will. In big letters: “Guy pleads the santity defense AGAIN. Might as well make it the new fifth.” Nice coverage, don’t you think? When the banker handed out the receipt to the customer, he was only following protocol. Don’t you think for yourself, you retarded banker? Enough people follow protocol these days, and what made you decide you had to follow the rules too? Oh so you whine about how you didn’t want to get fired. That’s what really gets ME started. All these people tip-toeing around not thinking about what they are doing because there might be consequences. Well guess what, your tip-toeing has now created CONSIDERABLE consequences in that there is a turnover rate higher than all of your negative, mean-spirited thoughts about Gucci put together. The government has to step in and plant nukes in your yard just to get rid of the weeds. And then you will be at fault for the toxins that give your fetus cancer. SAVE THE FETUS! I mean, can’t you people get anything wrong these days? It is so exhausting to hear over and over again about how important it is to have things be right. Post a command, stand on the street handing out dimes to people “free dimes,” but don’t bother me with your logic. I don’t want to hear it. Go crawl under a box and moo. I mean it this time. If I see you hanging around my window again, I might call a window-cleaner. His name is Mario, and he wants to sleep with me. I don’t mean it the way you think I mean it. I mean it the way Mario thinks about it. And personally, I really don’t want to know how he thinks about it because the way he goes on and on about beauty is overrated. How does he get anybody in bed with him? Honestly, how do people get in bed with one another these days when pores can be large and hairs can be grown and the person next to you might be in the habit of biting their nails? A nail-biter in bed with you, how will you explain that to the lawyer you fight with in the custody battles? I just don’t know what to say to you, Joe Shmoe. You have always held a grudge for me, and as for you, I can take you or leave you, sort of like salmonella poisoning. You don’t seem to appreciate my fine inability to do things, and that REALLY MAKES ME MAD! Don’t you know how rare it is to find somebody who is  schizo-affective, bipolar, borderline, histrionic, oppositionally defiant, and full of anxiety, too? I mean, really. So interesting, so beautiful, blah blah blah, and you want to throw it away because it doesn’t sound boring enough! So you don’t want to introduce me to your parents, or your friends, or anybody for that matter. I offered to hide in a closet, and you said NO? You really must be some creep. I’m taking myself out of the equation, and without me in it, there is nothing of interest for the attorney anymore. Mario won’t clean your house anymore, that’s for sure, not without me there discussing his problems with him. And Barbie won’t send you flashes of her tits without me to pump up the damage level of what she is doing- (if she can’t ruin a relationship, she won’t show up, hot stuff.) I have to say, I’ve met a lot of people who weren’t sick, but you just take the cake. Put that broom away, won’t you? Turn off that basketball game and drive me around. That’s better. Hear my breathing? Oh, that’s called being turned ON. And no, it’s not normal. Don’t call the doctor this time around, and don’t ask me what pills are in my bag. They could be vitamins. If they aren’t drugs, then you will be so stricken and forlorn, I won’t know what to do with you. So goodnight. Sleep well. No more of those things you talk about so rarely. Can’t you be more redundant than you already are? I’ve already forgotten about half of those interesting stories you used to tell about so-and-so. You don’t trust me, but that made it interesting. But you have to mix it up, and no, I won’t call you sweetheart. You have to trust me occasionally. Otherwise I will burn that tight leash you have me on. I know, you like how docile it makes me look. Oh well. Look for the docility in yourself! I know it’s there, somewhere. Well, actually, knowing you, maybe not, but isn’t that why I- I WILL NOT USE A WORD LIKE LOVE HERE- felt a certain disgust for you? Of course it is. Okay, I REALLY DO HAVE TO GO NOW. So stop avoiding my calls, because it is too repetitive right now, and I thought you didn’t like to repeat yourself! And you thought you were boring me with how boring you are.



So, you have to do with your own social life by yourself, as well as entertaining yourself, doing things to other people that make you laugh even if they don’t get it. You have to not care. I mean for nobodies sake you have to strike out on your own and start to assume they are the loser even if you aren’t that fickle, they are. But then is it a matter of survival? Fuck saving face! The piano that started this piece had the best riff ever but the clown singing is ruining it for me. Now a boy is approaching me; I think he might have written a long story on a napkin for me. Sounds like his life has crashed but that is just an instinct. God, does he want me to think he is a loser? Oh. A homeless musician with an outstanding education. He knows people I know from a college in wisconsin. He dropped out. I drop names by him. He said he was working on green party stuff. His odor is unpleasant.

“So where do you sleep? ” I ask as if it just dawned on me, as if I am not typing as he speaks.

“Oh I have a GREAT PLACE near volunteer park on soft pine needles.”

He was living with his sister until he started using heroin again. Before he was on methadone; he jumped off and went down too fast.

I don’t really want to be talking to him about heroin. It bores me.

“I can tell your awesome” he says. I remind him of people he went to school with. Forget what I said about his education. Oh wait. He is re-informing his statements with context.

He has a certification for technical writing- for jobs at Microsoft and “stuff” so he lost his job in 2009 with the 6000 drop off. Doesn’t he wonder what I’m typing away on?

Wow he is so boring. The odor adds something to the experience. Skunk? But now he is telling a story about losing his ipod but tracking it down. He bought it from the lady who stole it from him.

Maybe he doesn’t feel pleasure. He is chewing his thumb now. Make that three fingers in his mouth. A thumb sucker? He has wire rim glasses on. Mousy hair. A tad creepy. Name is very common. I think some people are downers. Anyway, this confirms my theory that it is better to treat people as entertainment than just sit around waiting. Waiting for what, you wonder ? Romance? Finality? The promises nobody could get away with breaking, not even if they were Brad and Angelina? But they did and holding your breath just makes you turn blue. It is funny and tragic how far people run to avoid themselves. Yeah, you heard me right. He- not the guy in front of me now tugging his earlobe- runs from what is inside. Me too. But I ran in- that’s right, not into but in another person, creating a perfection there- or tried to- a place to escape to. Just a minute of burrowing up inside that person is enough. But then, like anything you want, more seems better. You get a minute, so you want two minutes. Until not just one person but two people don’t know what or who they are running from. Have I lost you? It really sounds like a 1940’s comedy but it is no WONDER I haven’t been as funny lately. It’s no wonder I depended on others for my comedy with flat face here talking in monotone, the music going on like we are in a ballroom, and outside homeless people beg for change. Do you get it yet? My generation isn’t happy times! Why is it everyone I meet in my age group has some addiction to youth and to drugs, and it doesn’t matter if I am in academia, a rich politician party, a fundraiser, a cult, a middle class family… It seems to be everywhere? I started without it, without any idea of it, I was born in what appeared to be an ordered system. I listened to classical music, and everything and everyone had an order. That order wasn’t real. I don’t waste time wishing things that aren’t real were real- or if I do than boy, snap your fingers please.

Everyone isn’t on, or trying, or remembering some past involvement with drugs because of some coincidence. The truth is nobody is finding what they need and want, yet each thinks their situation is unique! How alone everybody thinks they are in their aloneness! Nothing could be further from the truth. Even Ginsberg could see hints of it, and he had friends. Okay…  (Hello??? Now would be the time for the audience to sneer please! Oh but you won’t indulge me that small thing. So typical. But he is so good at not forgetting blank in relationships. If only we knew what blank was. ) That guy won’t stop. Got to lend him this phone because he is nervously biting his fingers. Like time is so important to HIM, who has no place to be or go…interesting, huh? A mumbler too. He is throwing away rotting coffee beans from his bag now.

I was still laughing over some texts I sent. Didn’t matter what the person thought of them… I have to let go of some things! Don’t think the recipient will get it though. Maybe, maybe not. Will I care? Does it matter? Or is it important to NOT CARE, otherwise when you do care it doesn’t count! Oh, relativity- can’t live with mixed feelings on EVERYTHING; that would just be a cliche: like saying “I love you” on a guy’s Facebook or Myspace or MyFriendsLookAtMe page. It’s embarrassing to have that crap on your page  (unless you want to show off? Or you really are so self-deluded as to believe it is so sincere? Or maybe you just want to believe it means nothing, so that when it does mean something, you can say, well maybe it meant nothing- you know, in case I get rejected?) and to see it cheapened and displayed on friends pages UNLESS they are truly devoted, married, hypocritical and deceitful to themselves and the world, or just mindblowingly in love on their own spree. It can be fun to exclude the world with one other person. Me, never really done it. I feel left out. Awwwwwww.Just wait until the next joke is on me. I mean you. I mean.. would I joke about stuff like this?



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