Maybe I'm Not Here

"...But you're under the powers that be; you're supposed to just roll over and salute the very forms that make your cannon fodder. Like, what the fuck is anybody doing about Bush? How can a fascist dictator like that run this country, and there seems to be nothing, no matter who you vote in, that can stop him doing what he wants? I don't see any demonstrations, any student riots. Because sending young boys over there to get murdered for nothing is unacceptable to me."

-Johnny Rotten

We could go over what a sun-shiny nice day it was. Really. The sky was so perfect and the air was nice with only a slight hint of humidity. 5-Pound Phooey had a great time barking at 2 small schnauzers and scared away ducks. Her highest point was getting her usual smacking on the face from a Himalayan cat that always waits for us in its owners' sunroom. When 5-Pound Phooey and I walk by, there it is perched so we allow the hissing to begin. What you need to do is picture a small dog jumping up and down while a cat on a table swats and smacks through a screen window.

Am I okay today? Nope. I'm feeling quite rotten, actually. It's depressing since this is my time of year, Fall. Well, it may not be completely on this change just yet but I feel it in the air. No more sweat dripping down from me as I walk in the door from the daily walks. No more having to change t-shirts after wiping my face while on said walks. Just can't realize any form of happiness, eh?

But I'm just not happy. I keep wondering why I feel like a disappointment to people. Or better yet, why I don't warrant the love I once got. My parents kind of started this over my birthday yet it's only the past 3 or 4 years that I notice it more. No birthday wishes. Just money to spend. Whoopee-de-doo-dah. It's the same on Christmas and Easter only brings me to pure hatred since I cannot eat chocolate. 3 words: chocolate rabbits and Cadbury eggs.

Nobody sends me anything anymore. This isn't out of wanting things but wondering why I bother doing things for people. It's a matter of being curious as to whether they know what you enjoy or what gets you started. Sara's the closest thing I have because with her I don't get money. I get little knick-knacks that she has a feeling I would want to wear or play with. Hell, I'm wearing the Miller High Life t-shirt she gave me. Money is tough for her so I respect that she found something I would use. I've already told you that I spoil the hell out of her. It was really shocking to see Sara want to wear diamond earrings 4 days in a row when this she never wears something that many days out of a week.

Hi, how are you? I don't care. Bye.

That's why I was so goofy-happy when I was sent pictures by a fellow Diarylander. These weren't ordinary pics but of something I mentioned long ago, a slight joke between us. Fuck money! Let's have fun and I realize that by her sending me these things I wonder if I matter to others. My parents never got it. Why does Sara's mom get it? Here I am at Christmas time and she gives me a box of jelly beans. Do you realize how much that meant to me? I was so overjoyed at feeling like I was noticed all during the chaos that is Christmastime. When Sara's roommate came back to the apartment, there was an issue over her gifts. I totally got that said issue but I've very rarely ever torn off wrapping paper so I was still high on that at the time.

So, I no longer feel like I matter much. This happens when I'm depressed and have such time to think. I'm no longer interested in doing things for people. It was nice while it lasted. There were good times but we're grown up now. Let's all be into our own lives. Put on some music and be happy that you don't have to deal with pesky people.

Spin Magazine. How I love and loathe you like a madman insisting on putting ducks in his pockets. Johnny Rotten, the interview, got me to stop questioning my right to be cynical. It may be only temporary that I wonder how loopy I've gone but, man, this guy totally gets it when it comes to life. The more cynical you are, the more you love our world. It's the quiet ones that think we should be quiet that need to be put in a box and returned to sender.

Now, I didn't grow up during the punk period. I only came across it when it was on its way out yet the Sex Pistols did far more damage to cause people to question authority than Republicans would like. Sure, it wasn't an all-time high of mine to sit on my cousin's bed and be mesmerized by a picture of Sid Vicious with obvious needles shown under his jacket. It's just this was the beginning of my time to question things going on in this world. Some of us don't want it to decay under a guy that bragged about being a 'C+' student.

To fight your way out of things, you have to have a small amount of arrogance and a habit of taking in filth all while filtering out what is lackluster thinking. In other words, read it all but with an absolute ability to question. This is why so many people fail. They'll read, write, or talk all while not ever going beyond their basic boundaries. In each life, even the most boring should find themselves with some porn and a cookbook because the 2 make for a better night than talking about the neighbor's cat's diet. That's what things seem to be like on blogs, too. I want to know what really tickles your mind and makes you angry.

Now, I love to read but have rarely found authors worth their grain of salt. Harry Potter is great to take me away but not something that makes me spin around the room. Fun, yes. The writer of 'Fight Club' had a tendency to make me wonder if those overly masculine guys realize that their attitudes suggest complete homosexuality according to him. A man should never use the word 'futon?' Interesting. More fantasy figures? Ogres? Hardly original but entertaining as Harry Potter is. Stephen King? Brings back bad memories of being too scared to move after 'The Boogeyman' short story. Good stuff but I also like a complicated book like 'The Invisible Man.' That's where I may need a little help because not all is as it seems. Walter Mosley can be pretty deep but even Fitzgerald got underneath my skin.

My comparison to all things is like an Ashlee Simpson album held up against an old goodie like Elvis Costello. One one side you have manufactured pop overdone to sell and make money. People are constantly tweaking various things to make it sound better or just to hide horrible retched singing along to lyrics that are pure fluff. On the other hand, you have a guy dissing censorship, writing his own songs, telling authority to fuck off while playing live, and writing an impressive complication of songs. One is an ode to his mother's alzheimer's while another could be how great it was living on a street with history. This is what Johnny Rotten and I have issues with. No one wants to think anymore and life is all hunky-dory thanks to 500 channels to keep the ignorance alive. I suck. So sorry.

I'm in such a depressive state right now after writing this. It's not easy to feel confused or if I matter these days. During my favorite time of year, this is just plain stupid. I seriously thought that it would be nice to shoot myself because I don't feel like there would be anyone to notice. A long time ago, my life was perfect and it's the last 4 to 5 years that have tested me more. All I can say is that I have a feeling that moving to Indiana is the best idea ever. Happy twats all around.