So, it's a quarter after Eight, and I just finished getting off. It was rough, as in it took longer than expected, and painful, as I have more times than I'd care to admit, in the past two days. If the subject is ever breached, people ask why I do it so much, and I don't really have a definitive answer. Part of it's out of boredom, it's something to do, other times it's an outright need. Like an addiction. Kind of the same answer I give when people ask why I've slept with as many people as I have. It's something to do, and I need it. Well no, not really. It's not a need, in that Oxygen kind of way. Oxygen is a smidge more important, but it's not far off. Anyways, I started thinking about things while I was, and I kinda realised that I hate this shit. I hate being alone and devoid of human contact, I hate being single. I'm fucking sick of it. Nine and one half months. I could've had a fucking kid by now, and that's not like me. It's not. I can usually find someone. Hell, at this point, anyone would do.
You know, the real truth of the matter is, I've been single for over a year. One year and three months, almost to the day. Me and Ash, in theory, split up the day after she moved in, but despite the bullshit and rhetoric, we were still together. We still fucked, we still did shit together, like a couple. In reality, it was kind of torturous. It was worse than living with Des for like a year after we split up. Actually, that didn't phase me much because I was busy fucking whomever came along, and I do mean literally. I was worse off then, than I am now. In theory.
I was more alone then, without a doubt, because each faceless person in my arms detached me more and more from humanity as a whole. Now I'm reaching in any direction for anyone, for anything to hold on, even if it's a hollow, pointless online thing. Because, while it's something to look forward to, in the vaguest kind of ways, it's still something, right? It gives me some hope until something tangible comes along, and at this point, I'd handle a friend. A real friend, a true and tangible friend that I can hang out with [I know, I've already spouted this happy horse shit.], but I'll be honest, I don't know if that'll come. There is a prospective friend, but we all know me well enough, I do believe, I'm not one to hold my breath for much of anyone, when a human element is involved. People do have this insatiable urge to bullshit me, to jerk me around. To blow smoke up my ass, because it's the moral imperative that if someone is depressed [or as I call it, icky], you do what you can to "comfort" them... Which sucks, from my point of view, because I hate lies, and it's one of my biggest problems.
For all my shit, I'm still kind of a naive little git. I trust people. In a way. I trust that people will not lie to me, when the words are actually coming from their lips [or in most cases anymore, their fingers], I trust them to be honest, but I do not trust them to stick around. How fucked up is that? And, of course, when I'm left to my own devices without a proper distraction, like now, I kind of question their words. Actions speak louder than words.
The lone truth, the sole truth is, I'm so fucking tired of being alone and single. Or did I already state this? I really want a relationship, especially with Winter coming. Winter is always the worst for me. So cold. So dark. They call it Seasonal Affective Disorder, or some shit. Maybe it's Seasonal Affective Depression Disorder. Whatever, semantics. It doesn't really matter, you all know what I'm talking about. It's already getting darker earlier. There's still enough sunshine to get me through until November, then November will come, and I'll have NaNo to keep me going... then Xmas will come, and as we all know, Xmas is the most common time for suicides, because of all that Holiday Cheer, then comes the one year Anniversary of when Ash told me to bugger off... then my 27th bday a week later, then comes VDay, and we all know how well off that'll be. If I can make it through this winter without blood loss, I'll be shocked and/or surprised.
BRB. Post-orgasm tinkle.
Whatever is a boy to do in such a situation?
Actually, what bothers me most right now is, it's only 830, and there's at least 4 hours before I go to sleep. At least, and if this gets worse, it will be much longer, probably closer to six or eight hours. The only thing that will really-truly pull me out of this is if someone calls and says: "Hey, wanna hang out?" But, that shan't happen. Only 4-5 people in the city have my number, at best, and I do not foresee any of them calling, especially not to hang out. Indy might, but I highly doubt it, the way things ended the last time...
Losing hope is easy when your only friend is gone.
Sigh. Anyways, I don't know. If I knew what to do to change shit, I would. People tell me to get out, to go out, to do whatever. Right, and go where? That really does seem to stump them. As someone who does not drink, a bar would be rather hypocritical, and really, I hate being turned down by sober people, you think getting rejected by someone with low inhibitions would do me well? Oh yeah, that'd be like signing my own toe tag. Okay, so then they might suggest Bookstore... Borders, B&N, whatever... and Yeah, like I'm going to interrupt some cute chick while she's shopping? Not going to happen, I'm not that weak... Well, I am that weak, I am that desperate, but there's a problem, really. It's rare if strangers are game for conversation, especially in the middle of a shopping mecca, and could end up with a faceful of Mace. Not my idea of a good time, to be honest, not on the top of my list of fun things to do on a ... Oh damn, it's Friday night. Date night and the like. Someone kill me, right now, please? I'll pay you. I have 50 in cash and 250 in my checking account right now, I even have the means to do it. Please, just bump me off.
I'm being mildly sarcastic.
No, honestly. What would I do? Where could I go? Oh, and let's not forget, I'm terribly shy and wicked terrible at idle chit-chat. I also hate speaking. I hate talking. I'll tell you what would happen, I'd go to say, Coffeeshoppe inside one of the aforementioned bookstore, and sit there with a book, and I'd read. I'd leave my mp3 player at home, as that does kind of scream Leave me the fuck alone, and I'd sit there and read for an hour or two, and no one would look at me once, let alone give me a second heh heh heh glance. I could go to a bar and drown my sorrows, but even then, I'd be left well alone. Why? Because I'm... Actually, I have no clue. I'm relatively cute. Kind of cute, in that weird, soft kind of way. I looked in the mirror the other day, probably at work and was narcissistic for a second. That, Ah, I'd shag me kind of moment.
I... ME ...I actually thought I was a little attractive. A little, don't go getting worried or confused, I'm not the next Don Juan.... Even though someone did once compare me to Don Juan, but in the respect that I want everyone to feel loved and cared for. I want everyone to feel that warm glow of compassion. See, I do have a big heart with a lot of love to give [I hide it all in my big gut]. But yeah, that Don Juan thing is part of the reason I'm currently single, but that's neither here nor there.
Anyways, let's roll through my options of ending this solitude. Bars, Bookstores, Coffeehouses are out, for the aforementioned reasons, so what am I left with? The internet. Right. Yep. Last girl I dated that was not met on the internet would have to be.... Probably Cari, actually. That infamous Catholic, then again, even her, I met online one or two times before we actually met, but anyways, that was roughly eight years ago? Nine years ago? Something like that. Sure, there was Christa, but I met her through Ash, and that does not count, nor does Britney, as I met her through Indy, who I met online. No wait! There was Sarah, who I met at work, but she was married, and we never "dated", we just fucked. So yes, as you see, the Interweb has worked [not so] well for me for almost ten years now, but it's all dried up. Well, no, not necessarily, but, where? I mean, honestly? Right? Fubar? [For those of you who don't know... nevermind, I don't want to try and explain it.] It's worked in the past, I suppose, but it's tapped out [no pun intended] locally.
Oh wait, there are always friends, but as I've stated, I don't really have any, and I've asked - they know of no one single and/or desperate. And yes, I know it would take an act of desperation for someone to give me a chance, and while they may take the time to actually get to know me, and see me for who I am and not what I look like, the likelihood of that happening is still, eeh, slim to none.
One of these days, Logic will be the death of me, and I do mean that honestly. I have just logically, systematically weeded out any chance of me finding someone, and I don't give a damn what anyone says, that's talent, but one day Logic will dictate to me that it is time to off myself. You know, just saying Fuck writing the Great Amerikan Novel, and just sticking that Springfield .45 XD inside my mouth and pulling the trigger.
One of these days, it will just feel beyond logical.
Oh, and fuck y'all, I'm not a pessimist, I'm a cynic. I am a cynical optimist, because I am cognizant that it could be much, much, much worse. I could be a quadripalegic with a hard-on. I could be blind, I could be mute or deaf, I could have both legs removed, I could be homeless, I could be dying of some terrible [non-self-inflicted] disease [meaning: I'm probably already dying of emphysema or lung cancer]. Shit could be much, much worse, and I know this, but I will state this. This is beyond my tolerable level of misery.
It is, and I also accept that.
Okay, misery in a relationship is a little different than Misery alone. It is, and I don't give a damn who disagrees. At least in a miserable relationship, there is the making up, which ends with cuddling, and god-damn do I love to cuddle. Above all things do I love to cuddle. There's still the thought of a warm body, of the next time I get to be with someone, even if I loathe them.
I'll be honest, I cannot remember the last relationship I was truly happy in, or the last person I was truly was always happy with, which is realistic. You find me anyone who says, and means, that they're 100% happy with their insignificant other, and I'll show you a liar or an idiot, or both.
And this is something I actually got Ash to understand, which is probably how and why we lasted 2 years. She understood there were things that drove me fucking nuts about her, but I dealt with them because I cared. In a way, I suppose I really did care about that girl. Our relationship may have been fucked up on the whole, but all in all, it wasn't too damned bad. I've had far worse [See: The Catholic]...
Anyways, the point is, I'd go back to my most abysmal fucking relationship as opposed to being alone.
You know what does bug me, though? For that six months me and Ash "weren't" together, she cock-blocked me from some potentially good and/or healthy relationships. Maybe it was my own sense of ethics, though. I couldn't go out on a date and come home to her at night, it'd just be fucked up, irrespective of whether or not she did, and I'll be honest, I don't know if she did or not, nor do I care. Not at this point, I am beyond her, but she comes up a lot, because we shared a lot. Two years isn't exactly a small amount of time, and she is the most recent wound, so, so be it.
I don't know. I wish I did, I wish I had some fucking clue what to do right now. I have another week until I start work, which most people would love, they'd love the time off, the time of being lazy of having relatively no responsibility or bullshit, but I do hate it. I need something to keep me busy. Part of the reason I'm not one for taking vacations. At the hotel, in the three years I was there? Called off, maybe twice, and took the week of my mum's wedding off, just because there was so much shit to do, and it was getting to the point of Use It or Lose It, which sucked. I may've used a couple of odd vacation days, but so be it. I hate having an idle mind, or an idle body. Well, not so much the idle body thing, because I love just chilling and watching movies and shit, or sitting here in front of this fucking computer, my only outlet for human contact.
So, I got coupons in the mail today for a new Camel thing... I wish I could remember the name... but it has a thing in the filter to snap that gives it a menthol flavour, which is amusing, as I like menthol's once in awhile [once a year or so], and I remember this one kid had the bright idea of using... liquid breath mints in the filter. just add a drop or two. It worked, and gave the option of cinnamon, and the option of having one smoke a menthol in a pack. lol Ideal for someone like me who does not like menthol as a general rule.
Somebody saw him jump, yeah but nobody saw him slip. I guess he lost a lot of hope, and he lost the grip. But now he's lying in the freeway in the middle of this mess. Guess we lost another one, just like the other one. Optimistic hypocrite that didn't have nerve to quit. The things that kept him wanting more until he finally reached the core and fell across the fall line, ain't done nothing sacred anymore.
But yes! Who really knows anything about anything anymore? We're all kind of fucked up and lost, kind of drowning in this horse shit, floundering in a sea of assholes. Everyone is left to look out for number one, and that's all they have, because no one else has anything for them. It's kind of a vicious cycle. People like me, for instance, with everything to give to one person or every person is left with nothing but the imperative to take care of themselves.
I used to have a theory. Guys like me, the losers become assholes because of the girls who treat them like shit. They get bitter and they get jaded, much like I have. Same goes the other way, so don't go thinking I'm being sexist, but I can only speak for myself, which even then, I have a fair amount of issues.
Brb. Tinkle Number Two...
Yes, fuck you, I have the bladder of a 13 year old girl. Blow me. Twice. I've always been drinking a lot today... as I do every day, but whatever.
Y'know, I know that most of this makes absolutely no sense to anyone, but it does to me, and that's all that matters. I need to get this shit out of my head, otherwise it will consume me. Like, today, sitting between lights, I was talking to myself. I was. About a bunch of shit, some of it random, some of it not so much. Kinda thought I was beginning to crack, then realised that if I was jumping the chasm of full-blown insanity, I wouldn't be cognizant of it, right? Uhm... Right?
See, I don't need my thoughts to make sense to anyone but myself, however, my acquaintances tend to bitch that I don't open up to them, so I do here to the best of my ability. Kind of, Sort of, Sometimes. Okay, it's a sporadic kind of thing, but whatever. I only come here when I'm feeling one of three ways: Angry, OVERjoyed, or Depressed. Unfortunately, it's generally the First and/or Third. Why? Because, when I'm happy, I'm too busy/good to be posting about it. Right now, well, right now, I'm listening to Jack and he makes things better.
NOW! Why don't I open up to people? [I wanted to go into it up there, where it was first mentioned, but decided against it for a couple of reasons and made a mental note, however, unlike the norm, I actually effing remembered. Go me!]
Anyways, there are a handful of reasons I don't just outright open up to people. Part of it's insecurity [of what they'll use said information for, and irrespective of what people say, there is always the chance they'll turn it right the fuck around and use it against me, so, I do not provide the ammo.] Secondly, this one is funny. Every time that I used to open up, people ran away [more or less], so I decided to quit, and they still ran away, complaining that I didn't open up. Some I took the chance and opened up to, the ones who actually stuck around longer than six months or so [it took one almost two years], and they still ran away shortly thereafter. Next up is, it's not my place. It's not my place to burden others with the shit going on with me, which is kind of why I like the idea of a public forum like MeSpace. They can choose whether or not they want to be bothered by it, and I suspect most do not. There are a handful, maybe, that read this, but few do, and I understand that, and I respect it. To each their own, as I always say. Which really, that's the big one. I don't want to bother people, nor do I expect them to give a good goddamn, in reality, so it's all good, I'll do it myself, as I always have. I do not ask for help when it comes to my shit very often. It's rare [and I mean, I can't remember an instance] if I say, Will you shut the fuck up and listen to me?! Help me! I need help! But that's my way, I'm subtle and subliminal, and it wor... actually, it doesn't work, and it just pushes people away, but that's the way the cookie crook as crumbled. Another reason? I don't know how to express my emotions and shit very well. I don't, I've never been able to, mostly because I've never really-truly opened up about myself.
Let's say, when it came to my parents? God. Well, I don't want to bother my father with this shit, because I don't know if he'll understand, plus I, more or less, know his reaction. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love my father to death, he's the only friend I have, but he's not an emotionally inclined person. I've never seen the man cry, and I've only heard him say "Love" in such a context once, and that was about a year after the divorce from my mum, and that was "I still love her, y'know." Something to that effect. Love is not in his lexicon, and it's partially because of his mother, and probably a little to do with Nam [don't ask], but it's also part of his generation. "A man's man." Well, not really, but whatever.
The next parental unit would be my mother. Well, where to begin with her? My mother is a work of... art, in a manner of speaking. A perpetual drunk on the pitty-pot, and she was never really there for me. I remember a couple years where she was sober and trying to relate to me, but it failed abysmally. I mean, I was sixteen, seventeen, and by that time, I was too accustomed to her being a drunk douchebag to accept her as a sober mother. That old Too Little, Too Late motto applies very well, but she also never really showed me love, not until it was too late. At least not love in the way that I needed it, nor did she really give a damn. I mean, this is the woman who one day, when I was about two, shattered a glass under my head when she knocked me from my highchair, right? This was her own confession, not that I'd fucking remember it, but you get the idea here. I spent most of my early years babysitting her when she was drunk. Keeping her company while she was soused to make sure she didn't fucking off herself.
So yeah, in essence, I did not grow up in the soundest of environments, but this actually explains a lot of my social issues, especially my gap between Love and Sex, which those two things do not appear to be connected in my head. Sex is not about love, hell, it's not even about pleasure for me. It's... well, it's something to do. It's something to kill the time, and it's expected in a relationship, or in a male/female thing. The word escapes me. Rendesvous would be a good one. It just happens - Sex just Is. Which is interesting, because to me, a relationship is not about Sex, but Sex is not about a relationship. These two things are mutually exclusive...
Anyways, my relationship with my mother explains a lot, in and of itself. It explains my fear of rejection, abandonment, and the notion that all women will inevitably leave, her and my father's life. 3 ex-wives, and now he's 61 and invariably alone, outside of me, which is why I will not leave Indianapolis, at least until he is dead, which, I know is a problem, but HE is the reason I am alive, so I do owe him that.
Which is a funny story.
In 1981 my parents separated, and when they got back together [or beforehand], mum found out she was knocked up, and she had planned to have an abortion [she had, had at least two beforehand], which I have no grudge about when it comes to her. I'm not one of those militant pro-life fucks. I'm one of those militant pro-abortion fucks. Half-kidding. But she was going to abort me, and he told her that if she did, he'd sign the divorce papers, which had already been drawn up, from what my mum told me, and yes, she told me this story [as my memory does not date back to the womb], and I was about 10-12 when she told me this. Go mum!
But maybe you can tell why I might be a little fucked up, and perhaps why I strive so hard for love and affection. Mostly because, it was never given to me as a child, however, I once heard that people cuddle stuffed animals and pillows because they did not receive enough love and attention as children. I do neither, but I do cuddle any person who'll allow it, so maybe that's how I compensate. That and, outside of this stretch, I've not been single or without a prospective relationship for longer than a month in... 12-14 years.
But, really, I'll be honest. I'm not as fucked up as I could/should be. I've not become the next Charles Whitman or Charlie Manson. I've not jumped the chasm of crazy yet, but I do still have a lot of time left, don't I? And my loathing of large groups of people could come to play in that. Lol.
Okay, that brings up another issue with me finding someone/anyone. I hate groups of people, they make me uncomfortable in a way that I cannot explain. Even in a group of say, 5 people, or more than 2-3 [up to and including myself], I clam up terribly. I clam up terribly even if it's one-on-one, but that's neither here nor there. I get real antsy and anxious around groups, and I let them converse amongst themselves if I know but one person. If I know them all, I might pipe up, but it's not always likely, because I don't like being judged. Oh, that's another reason for my many social issues.
I'm terrified of being judged unfairly, or at all, really. Part of the reason I do my best to remain as invisible as possible. I don't want people to notice me and go "What the fuck is that?" It bothers me, and it hurts like hell. It really does. Kind of why I hate speaking in public, kind of why I hate interviews. Kind of why I hate meeting people in person, or more to the point, just going up to someone and saying "Yo, whuttup?" Because, I fear they'll judge me before they get to know me. Pre-judge. Prejudice. It's inevitable, I know this, but the less it happens the better off I am. Yeah, folks, part of it is self-preservation.
Hard to imagine me doing something to preserve myself, as I've gone on hours about my self-destructive personality. Destroying my self is one thing, doing it my-self is one thing. Giving someone the chance to do it is another. One of those, I'd commit suicide before "God" takes me kind of mentalities. Death is inevitable, folks. It is, deal with it. I don't know. It makes sense in my head, and I've already covered that this evening.
Brushfire faerietales, itsy bitsy diamond wells. Big fat hurricanes, yellow belly given names. Well, short cuts can slow you down, and in the end we're bound, to rebound off of we. Well dust off your thinking caps, solar powered plastic plants. Pretty pictures of things we ate. We are only what we hate. But in the long run we have found. Silent films are full of sound. Inaudibly free. Slow down everyone, you're moving too fast. Frames can't catch you when you're moving like that. Inaudible melodies of narrations, no strategies. Unobtrusive tones, help to notice nothing, but the zone of visual relevancy. Frame lines tell me what to see. Chopping like an axe or maybe Eisenstein should just relax.
Yeah, I love Jack, sue me. See, as some of you may have noticed, Music is my voice, when it comes to Me. I can write fiction like a motherfucker, and I like to think that I do, but when it comes to Me, to the really-real me, I'm at a loss. I'm broken like that, and I use music and lyrics to do it for me, and you may ask why, as I'm sure some of you do. Why the FUCK do you put so many songs in your blogs? Well, it's a fairly easy answer, and I agree with the idiology that, if someone else has found the words, why fuck it up with my own?
Yeah, I know, this is a marathon of blogging today. 2 hours earlier, and 2 hours already on this one, but it's all I have, and I have some shit I needed to get out, at least to see it, in the flesh, so to speak, and maybe to deal with it, since I don't have anyone to really help. I just need a hand. A hand to reach down and help me up, to help me out of this funk. Out of this ether. Yeah, nothing is worse than an ether binge. Lol.
I'm starting to get tired, this has actually kind of worn me out. I think I've probably divulged more true information tonight than ever before, and it's kind of cathartic. Kind of cleansing. Kind of ... I don't know. Those words sum it up well enough.
This is the way the world ends. Not with a whimper, but with a bang.
Christopher.
