• Blog Stats

    • 1,028,559 Sessions
  • Archives

I Know in Another Town.

I just found out one of my best friends from middle school is a professional boat racer now. I’m not surprised because that was sort of his dream while I always thought I would be a big game fisherman…why did he follow through with his childhood dream and I’m wandering from job to job trying to figure out where I fit. Life is weird. I’ve become addicted to jolly ranchers and actually being nice to people who pose a direct threat to my well-being. I’ve been listening to a lot of Jay-Jay again and decided to reject my passion for Morrissey until I can better handle myself here. Depression sets in quicker here then anywhere else for me. When you see people constantly partaking in drugs use, heavy drinking, and random hook-ups, you start to think why can’t I be as mindlessly happy in sin as these people. I guess because I put so much in loveology I realize doing those thing past a certain point would leave me being late and outside the classroom with my assignment on forgivemeology in hand but realizing the bell has rung and the teacher doesn’t take late papers.

I feel bad for Bryce. He wants fame like I want to be left alone. (Desperately.) He is such a special person and sometimes I just want to tell him that being average isn’t as bad as he seems to think it is. I think if he became famous he would O.D. on it. He would just become a junkie for public attention. (He’s that now.) I feel bad about what I said about his rabbits. I don’t know why people take my comments so personal or heavily. What do I know? I had the opportunity to be a bad art teacher and live through all the Luis Sierra’s in my classes or to become what I am now. (What am I?)

Andy’s neighbor Patrick scares me. It’s not because he is dying of HIV/Aids because my uncle is also suffering from that disease. I think it is because his art is so terrible yet people tell him it is good. It’s not like Bryce where people actually love his self-reflecting rabbits, it is just strikes and swirls of random colors and shapes with a brush. It makes no sense to me. I don’t get it and not because I don’t know what art is. I just don’t understand his methodology when it comes to painting. It is like he’s painting simply to paint. There lacks voice and expression. I guess that is what actually scares me, I think Patrick lacks voice and expression. It is like the disease is making him expressively slim and slimmer.

I want to go to the Station and get two shots of whiskey and a beer chaser. I need to turn off my thoughts. I have so much to write and I can’t bring myself to start actually writing it because there is so much static noise. I just want to drool on some stranger’s shoulder and lie to them about who I am. I just want to be some invisible drunk lost in this city. (Aren’t I that now?) I want to walk into Zotz and burn down all the walls that keep me from talking to people I obsess about when I am alone in the bathtub. I want to know their story instead of filling in all the missing pieces of their history in my head. I want to get on a boat and sail down the Mississippi until I hit the open water and sail to Siberia. I’ve got a parka. I just want to go somewhere where everything is white and cold. (That could honestly be anywhere.)

This place is an old faded music box where little figurines with broken limbs and chipped paint dance. (Or is that another town?)

This place is a basement with hundred of moldy shoe box houses where dilapidated dolls live. (What am I doing here?)

I think about leaving. Andy wouldn’t care but I think Bryce would. (I know Bryce would.) I love it here I just feel like I’m suspended over all of this. I’m just hovering above the ground scared to touch it. (I’m perpetually human.)

I should move out and become invisible for a week. No phone. No intraweb. No outside world. I need to close off and process these thoughts. I need to create something cohesive. I need to create something that is an amalgamation. the world is crashing into itself for me and I need to organize it before the pieces fall through the cracks.

I need something that is silver and shiny.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: