Operator (That's Not The Way It Feels)

I'm sorry.

I'll try not to be vague.

I'm going to have to quit a man. I use that word loosely.

I might not be a muse, but I'm also not dust to be swept under the carpet. (Big gap, I know.)

Sorry pal. I tried. I'm so angry and disappointed that I'm numb. I almost feel like I'm in air. Suspended or something.

Boys tend to take their women for granted. Men tend to be sparse.

Ah, there are more stars in the sky. (I don't want to date a fish)

As Neil would say, "It's better to burn out than to fade away." Who knew your wick would be so short?

तिरेड.

I want to start over. I want a new life. I wish I could leave it all behind.

I can see the sunset in your eyes
Brown and grey and blue besides
Clouds are stalking islands in the sun
I wish I could buy one out of season
But don't hesitate
'cause your love just won't wait

I don't want to wait. I love all of you, but it's time for me to get out of here. Sorry. But I must be movin' on.

Me and my old lady
Ain't been getting along
If things don't get better
I'll soon be long gone

The situation is driving me insane
Somebody fetch me my hat and coat
And hand me my walking cane

Maybe we will meet again.

Hearts & Bones

I am not much of a writer. Honestly, I am not much of a thinker. However, I do think about some things, and with my luck, those things tend to come around two in the morning.

I think people take for granted the effectiveness and availability of daily inquiry.

"Hey man, can you hand me my telephone?"

"Yo, do you mind waking me up in the morning?"

"What's the score?"

Answers are increasingly easy to get. Arguing with your friend whether that was Harvey Keitel or Joe Pesci? Look it up! IMDB that shit! Wiki it! Google it! Hell, Twitter it and let us all know who was right! Why not?!

Think about how much better life would be if you could get an answer as quickly and completely as the information on a news ticker. That would be badass.

For starters, going out to the movies or dinner would be like clockwork. There would not be any lengthy dialog about how you don't want to go see Batman or eat Japanese food. You just do it.

I guess I am being a bit of a dork here, but you would spare the bullshit and make a decision. Praise God! Hallelujah! It would be simple. No picking an outfit for 30 minutes. No stops for gas or plans for later.

I guess what I am trying to say is that I wish everyone was a little less indecisive. I know I do it. I'm horrible about making a quick decision. I need time to consider my options and make the best choice. I check and then I double check. I ask around for other people's opinion. I read up on it.

Maybe life would be a little more interesting if I just made a decision. I just don't think I will ever be able to pick a path and stick to it.

I'm tired. I'm delirious. I'm barely aware of what I'm writing.

I think the older people get, the more tired of the bullshit they get. You've heard it all. You know every trick in the book. I feel old. I don't feel warn or frayed or physically altered... it's just something else. People take the fight out of me. It's not so much a fight to do what I want, it's the exact opposite.

I spend an absurd amount of my time not being myself so that I can be socially accepted and don't have to deal with the bullshit. I really feel like some days I go especially out of my way so that no one is offended or upset or uncomfortable. After all this time though I am just starting to care less and less about what other people think. I don't know that that is a good thing. Some people would be all for not giving a damn, but its something different. It's not that I don't care, because I do. It's just that I'm tired.

Think about it this way. If all the gays came out and all the assholes and perverts and lovers and mothers got over their shit and just were themselves, everyone would be a lot less exhausted and a lot more comfortable with each other.

"Dan is a real prick."
" Well yeah, I know. We just hang out with the for the XBox."
"What does he hang out with you for?"
"The tits."

Easy. You hang out with Dan, the ass, for a little Halo, and Dan hangs out with you to gander at your rack and flirt with your roommates.

There is no veil there. It's just an open compromise where everyone involved is aware and happy with their situation.

There is nothing wrong with being human. Equally, there is nothing wrong with wanting to relax and play a few games. Want to play games for six hours at a time? Why not? You only live once. If you are happy spending your time leveling your paladin, so be it. Just don't bitch about being pale and not having any cash to pay for your water bill.

If people know what to do with the truth then they won't ever be disappointed, no matter what that truth may be.

Accepting the facts, or the truth as it may be, as a whole is not that difficult. It's a black and white decision. Either P or Q. Not and, or if, or only if. Just one or the other. Once you accept the truth, the hard part is done.

I am tired. I can hardly keep my eyes open.

From this day forth, I am going to cut as much bullshit out of my life as possible. If I want to sleep until noon then that's exactly what I am going to do. My life may be in a mold, but it certainly does not fit so that the plaster of my life pops out as seamless and smooth as it went in.

I put a lot of value on my brain. Unfortunately, it's like an artifact I display in a glass case. Worth millions to someone, but unused, on exhibit, serving no purpose other than that of aesthetic requirement.

What's the point in having an idea or a vision if it will never be illustrated? If I want to be entertained I'll kill some Nazi zombies via Call of Duty.

I could write more totally absurd gibberish, but I'm very much looking forward to passing out on the pull out couch.

Today was a wonderful day. I remembered the love I have for four very dear family members, who memories are yet to be made with.

I have a sunburn, brain zaps, and ADD, but I appreciate and adore the Walkers. Let the record show I haven't taken them for granted.

I am going to start living. Hopefully I can throw in a little more truth and sweep out a little more poo. I'll let you know how that turns out.

I Hate You

I am writing this to let one mother fucker in particular know that I hate every sinew and length of nerve in his body.

In particular, I hate the way you are clinging to my life.

Because of my disgust for you, because of my contempt for the way you infect my brain with your image, I am almost completely compelled to end my relationships with a handful of people that make me guilty of knowing your name by association.

I remember being accused of wanting to spend my time with you because of luxury. Because of the house and the electronics and the seclusion. Well the simple god damned fact was that I enjoyed your company, I loved you, and I cared enough to exile myself in the fucking woods to be with a man with twice my experience and half my intelligence.

No matter how much I remind myself that you are milking every last sweet drop of my love for you from the people that I once introduced you to, the comic value doesn't quite destroy the voodoo doll I've got splayed in my brain for you.

My friends, my life, my teenage entourage, now have to be obliterated because you don't have the fucking balls to make friends born before the Power Rangers.

I could be the cold hard bitch I fashion myself to be in these situations, but at this point I am much more comfortable dropping a nuke on the memories and the people that helped shape the sensible person I am today. That debauchery, or fuckery, as I would rather call it, can't be taken back. The trips to Vegas, the joints, the cartons of Marlboro's, the downed bottles of schnapps, they aren't going anywhere.

It's simple. I just have to find a way to manipulate my brain into remembering the things you weren't there for. Vegas? You weren't there for that. Sleeping under the pool table in Tennessee, you weren't there for that one either. Orlando, Edisto, Boca, fucking Manhattan, I spared you all those memories too.

Today. Now. I raise my 50-foot-tall middle finger in a final "Fuck You!" to you and all those cock sucking bastards that want to suckle on your hand me down house, your hand me down life, and the dregs that I have left behind out of haste in what you would only wish to call a "home".

I am thankful for you and my old friends. You are the bricks in the foundation of failure. You drop outs, and pot-heads, and perverts, and dependents, and trust funded, closed minded, pieces of shit, help people like me get the fuck out of a one road, one horse town, and to towns on the Gulf of Mexico, where the women are pretty, the weather is pristine, and the life is more golden in one-week, than in one year of your nine to five, filthy, and perfectly ignorant, existence.

Take the friends, take the memories, take it all. I won't bother kicking you out twice. I'm creating a new life so I don't have to ask you again to get the fuck out of mine.

If I never see you again it will be much too soon.

On a side note, APA Style can lick my nuts.

Sunshine

I am writing in haste from Apollo Beach, Florida.

I very much wish that I had the natural talent to "live by my pen" and swallow myself up in whatever I thought was worth documenting at the time.

Today I learned that my good friend, my best friend no doubt, has been diagnosed with "Lewy Body Disease". What is there to say? There is no cure. Old age, inevitability, etc. I reluctantly, but very honestly, admit my fear of this affliction. The disease itself doesn't scare me. It's the flag that reminds me. It is kind of like someone is tickling you against your will. You laugh. It makes you uncomfortable. It doesn't kill you. It doesn't make you angry. It just annoys you. It reminds you.

I don't like being reminded that the truest friend I will ever have is in the twilight of her days. I don't know if I should be thankful that I have been blessed with the intelligence to recognize that friends like this are rare, and often nonexistent to a large majority of the population. Arguably the bigger curse is ignorance, but I like to think that this curse is only winning by a small margin. Smart men are much more conniving than those that earn their bread breaking stone. Poverty, even of the mind, is much more forgivable a sin than those sins that are advocated by the wealthier of men. That battle of the lesser of two evils may never be won. Ignorance may be bliss to some. I hate being convinced that I am not so fortunate.

The wick of my interest is burnt out. I have my own afflictions to investigate.