There is nothing quite like being able to watch your own cognitive powers fart away happily into the darkness like a deflating balloon when you get sick.
When I start reading stuff I contrived and going "huh that's cool" I know I'm in trouble heh.
When you get the flu, its sorta like your head becomes a badly cooked dish of lasagna, yer noodles get all chewy and parts of it turn into heavy tire rubber on one side, bits of mozzarella become plastic woodchips with little bits of dirt and gristle embedded innit that used to be meat, yer ricotta gets all dried out and crumbly and tastes like styrofoam packing peanuts, and all the vegetable stuff is more like eating crayons and construction paper than onions and tomatos and spices.
And then when I smoke, everything starts to taste like pencils for some reason, I mean, if I really loved the way pencils taste, I'd be in frickin' pencil heaven right now.
See, this is exactly what happens when you have to hang out with kids too much, not even working downtown for three years in human-sized glass and aluminum hamster tubes crammed with moaning corpses and no air holes in the tupperware lid can help prepare you for all the designer diseases those damn kids cultivate, they're like roving military grade biological weapon platforms and shit.
Although I guess I shouldn't complain, 'cause at least I'm half immune to everything.
Yah, I only got half a fever and only one side of my hat-holder is completely congested and pulsing like an alien egg sac filled with twenty-five pounds of It Definitely Ain't Butter.
Yah, and somehow, the other side of my head is all fine and symptom-free, I mean, aside from the fact that for some totally unfair reason, it seems to be permanently attached to the absoshmiggenly funged-up mutant side of my head.
Guess I'm like the Three Legged Pig, y'know, too good to eat all at once.
Yah, and crying like a baby from only one eye, with tears running down just one of my cheeks ahaha ow shit.
Its funny how I was just thinking about writing something about people who have bosses that read the shit they write on the internet having to pretend to be sick in text format when they play hooky right before I suddenly became sick heh.
But now I'm too messed up to write anything good like that ahaha.
Well, no matter how bad things get, you can almost always take comfort in the fact that they ain't even begun to be as bad as they can be until Dennis Hopper shows up and tells you to bite down on a sock.
Monday, April 9, 2007
Conceptual Mathematics
Now that I think about it, if everybody in your family has birthdays around the same time, then add three months to that and you'll know exactly when you really need to start wearing yer gramma underpants and watching yer ass and shit heh.
Marriage Counseling
I'm sorry to have to be the one to say this, but at least one of you little oinkers needs to get married right, for once.
Y'know, to somebody rich.
Yah, I dunno what is up with all these friends we got that keep marrying poor peasant folk over and over again and shit, I used to think some of 'em were all smart and that maybe there was some invisible inheritance angle or something that they were working in the background.
But apparently they are all just a bunch of hopelessly romantic crackhead hippies.
How are we supposed to buy all the kickass futuristic helicopters and assault motorcycles with lasers and superjumping jetrobot exoskeletons and shit we need if everybody keeps marrying sickly little amish people from Little House on the Prairie?
I know, like, seriously, right?
What?
Well I can't be the one to do it, you dummass.
Yah, no, see, if I get married rich, then there'd be nobody left that could keep her happy and paying the bills afterwards ahaha.
Damn, what're you, new to this simple ass planet or something?
Y'know, to somebody rich.
Yah, I dunno what is up with all these friends we got that keep marrying poor peasant folk over and over again and shit, I used to think some of 'em were all smart and that maybe there was some invisible inheritance angle or something that they were working in the background.
But apparently they are all just a bunch of hopelessly romantic crackhead hippies.
How are we supposed to buy all the kickass futuristic helicopters and assault motorcycles with lasers and superjumping jetrobot exoskeletons and shit we need if everybody keeps marrying sickly little amish people from Little House on the Prairie?
I know, like, seriously, right?
What?
Well I can't be the one to do it, you dummass.
Yah, no, see, if I get married rich, then there'd be nobody left that could keep her happy and paying the bills afterwards ahaha.
Damn, what're you, new to this simple ass planet or something?
The Tudors Suck
Four star entertainment my ass.
There ain't even one person in the show I can stand, 'cept Sam Neil and that boring humanist guy, and they ain't exactly making me tingle all over, either.
What they need is some kickass loveable shit like Titus Pullo and Vorenus to come over to that second-rate hobo-ass Renaissance Faire clownshow and start hackin' everybody's arms and legs off.
Or get Sam Neil and that humanist guy to do it, that'd work.
That's what it reminds me of, Rome without Titus Pullo and Vorenus and Octavian's Smoking Hot Momma, where we'd have to watch the adventures of that cold blooded reptilian freak they got to replace that Doogie Howser lookin' kid for the part of Octavian.
I don't give a shit if yer frickin' cheapass titillating victorian soft porn bullshit ain't historically accurate heh.
And get some more chicks that look like what's her name, that daughter of the Aerosmith Guy, while yer at it!
Oh don't get yer frilly underthings in a twist, Fontleroy, I'm just kidding, y'know, I could give two shits what you do with that thing at this point and I don't really believe that you could ever fix it even if you did get Titus Pullo and Vorenus soft porning that Aerosmith Daughter in there or whatever, even the scenery makes me wanna cough 'cause all the dusty furniture and purple draperies and shit reminds me of Grandma's House.
Bah, wake me up when MacGuyver comes back to Stargate heh.
There ain't even one person in the show I can stand, 'cept Sam Neil and that boring humanist guy, and they ain't exactly making me tingle all over, either.
What they need is some kickass loveable shit like Titus Pullo and Vorenus to come over to that second-rate hobo-ass Renaissance Faire clownshow and start hackin' everybody's arms and legs off.
Or get Sam Neil and that humanist guy to do it, that'd work.
That's what it reminds me of, Rome without Titus Pullo and Vorenus and Octavian's Smoking Hot Momma, where we'd have to watch the adventures of that cold blooded reptilian freak they got to replace that Doogie Howser lookin' kid for the part of Octavian.
I don't give a shit if yer frickin' cheapass titillating victorian soft porn bullshit ain't historically accurate heh.
And get some more chicks that look like what's her name, that daughter of the Aerosmith Guy, while yer at it!
Oh don't get yer frilly underthings in a twist, Fontleroy, I'm just kidding, y'know, I could give two shits what you do with that thing at this point and I don't really believe that you could ever fix it even if you did get Titus Pullo and Vorenus soft porning that Aerosmith Daughter in there or whatever, even the scenery makes me wanna cough 'cause all the dusty furniture and purple draperies and shit reminds me of Grandma's House.
Bah, wake me up when MacGuyver comes back to Stargate heh.
Rent-A-Friend
Me and Ex-bouncer had this really awesome idea for a get rich quick scheme.
Oh hellyah, see, its called Rent-A-Friend.
Yah, like, you pay us to be your friend, just like those dudes give money and diamond rings to hookers for sex, y'know, so you can be assured that there's some Quality Control Process involved.
And if you don't like our Friendship Service Levels, well, no, you can't have your money back, but at least you won't have to keep giving us money afterwards, y'know, you can always cut your losses and go with the Cheaper, Completely Unreliable, Rock Bottom Quality and Unprofessional Friendship Competition any ole time you like.
If you actually think you are saving money that way heh.
Anyways, we talked it over with our families, and they weren't actually too hot for our Rent-A-Son and Rent-A-Brother-In-Law ideas, so we might have some Expectation Management and Marketing Issues to work out before we go forward with all the spin-off products ahaha.
And this thing where we have to go around being unfriendly to people until we get paid for it is a lot harder and more unpleasant than I thought it would be.
Well, see, I tell myself its okay to give people free samples of our product so I don't have to be completely miserable and antisocial, its a taste of what they're missing when they don't sign up for our Strangely Affordable Platinum Friendship Plan, y'know, just like a Drug Dealer gives you that first hit for free to get you hooked, just like the Car Salesman wants you to put your hands on the steering wheel and smell the leather seats of that car you can't really afford, that's just good salesmanship and advertising, but cutting them off in the middle of a kickass joke is a lot trickier than I thought it would...
INSERT QUARTER TO CONTINUE
Oh hellyah, see, its called Rent-A-Friend.
Yah, like, you pay us to be your friend, just like those dudes give money and diamond rings to hookers for sex, y'know, so you can be assured that there's some Quality Control Process involved.
And if you don't like our Friendship Service Levels, well, no, you can't have your money back, but at least you won't have to keep giving us money afterwards, y'know, you can always cut your losses and go with the Cheaper, Completely Unreliable, Rock Bottom Quality and Unprofessional Friendship Competition any ole time you like.
If you actually think you are saving money that way heh.
Anyways, we talked it over with our families, and they weren't actually too hot for our Rent-A-Son and Rent-A-Brother-In-Law ideas, so we might have some Expectation Management and Marketing Issues to work out before we go forward with all the spin-off products ahaha.
And this thing where we have to go around being unfriendly to people until we get paid for it is a lot harder and more unpleasant than I thought it would be.
Well, see, I tell myself its okay to give people free samples of our product so I don't have to be completely miserable and antisocial, its a taste of what they're missing when they don't sign up for our Strangely Affordable Platinum Friendship Plan, y'know, just like a Drug Dealer gives you that first hit for free to get you hooked, just like the Car Salesman wants you to put your hands on the steering wheel and smell the leather seats of that car you can't really afford, that's just good salesmanship and advertising, but cutting them off in the middle of a kickass joke is a lot trickier than I thought it would...
INSERT QUARTER TO CONTINUE
My Brother's Wife's Brother's Wife
A long time ago, in one of the six or seven Antediluvian Ages of Ole Bald Angus the Monk, I told you about my brother's wife's brother's wife, the smoldering hot italian girl that follows me all around the family parties because she likes me a little too much.
And its not just her, its her daughter too, everywhere I go, there's this little girl looking at me with moony little kid crush eyes.
And everybody in my family is well aware of it, its actually the subject of a lot of in-house comedy, well, the little kid part, at least.
Needless to say, this is all very disconcerting for my brother's wife's brother, who was originally a guy that I'd describe as hilarious and light-hearted and witty, but has now become something of a mopey and miserable drunk, although he's still pretty hilarious and witty, even if I'm the only one that gets his jokes.
Yah, he still likes me just fine, he don't blame me for anything.
Well, I told you he was pretty damn cool, y'know.
But his mopey thing isn't making things better on the other fronts.
When I originally told you the story, the point I was after was to describe how being attractive can be bad for you.
Oh, I don't mean me being attractive, although I'm pretty damn fantastical, if I do sayso myself *rolls his one good eye*
I meant my brother's wife's brother's wife, who isn't invited to play any reindeer games.
See, I can joke with anybody else's wife about anything, stuff I can't even say on the internet because the internet is too innocent, and we all sit around the table laughing our asses off.
But as soon as my brother's wife's brother's wife shows up at the table, I suddenly have to go quiet.
My entire spirit sorta cringes with guilt when she catches on to the end of one of my dirty jokes, because she lights up in exactly the wrong way about it heh.
See, now maybe you can see exactly how everybody reads my mind ahaha.
Well, she is smoldering hot, man, there's no doubt about it.
And I frickin' love italians, because whatever else you might think about them as some kinda shitty stereotype, they really do love life.
Anyways, she's become a school teacher in the years since I last blabbered about her, so now she's a smoldering hot italian school teacher who loves how smart I am and wants to talk about all sorts of ancient history and stuff that only me and my stepdad know anything about, y'know, so holy shit this whole thing is just getting harder and harder and harder.
Yah, that's the latest evolution of the thing, the Hot For Teacher Stage heh.
Well, that's part of it, at least.
See, at first, I tried to avoid her, y'know.
But then I figgered that strategy was actually just sorta teasing her along and contributing to an Aura of Mystery or something.
I mean, there really isn't a lot of meat to me in Real Life, I'm about as simple as a dude can get, 'cause understanding yourself first is pretty much standard practice for anybody that likes to solve mysteries, just like a hunter needs to be able to go invisible and hold his breath, waiting for a shot, I need to be able to put all my own stuff aside and go motionless a lot, I need to turn to glass to do the ole Transparent Eye Trick, and you can't really do that if you are into carrying around a ton of fucking baggage and shit.
But the fantasies some people have of me (to fill in what they perceive as "the blanks," I guess) tends to be super complex and the source of much amazement on my part, although I don't actually hate it because at the same time their assumptions and suggestions tend to tell me a lot about where they came from and stuff.
So I decided that maybe it'd be better to let her get to know me, so she'd see exactly how sucky and crusty and crappy and non-fantastical and plain-vanilla I actually am.
And so now I actually actively try to ruin her fantasy of me on a continuous basis, taking it apart brick by everloving brick.
And that might not seem like much to you, but that's exactly the opposite of all my programming, its exhausting, I'm like a guy slowly tearing himself apart limb by limb.
You know what I'm talking about, sometimes somebody will say something nice about you, but it isn't exactly accurate or correct, y'know, there's a fudge factor that is working in your favor.
And you don't correct them, heck, they don't really wanna hear you correct them anyways, they wanna like you that way, so you just sorta bask in the glow of it, right?
Even though you know you are cheating a little?
But I am correcting all those things, and lemme tell you, it sucks some serious ass and I highly don't recommend it unless its some kinda absolute necessity and last resort type thing heh.
Yah, this is the real reason why I'm getting so exhausted at all these family functions, I mean, if this was a movie, we would've been sitting there, waiting for two people, standing very close to each other, talking all soft and intelligent and super perceptive, to explode into a savage frenzy of sensuality and rip each other's clothes off, for like two years now.
I'm all for suspense but that's way the hell too much tension to put anybody through ahaha.
Anyways, that's just another element of this Latest Evolution of the Thing.
See, on another level, I'm actually trying to help my brother's wife's brother fix his marriage so they'll stay together.
Because if they don't stay together, then I'll be in an awkward position that's an Order of Magnitude worse than the one I'm already in heh.
But I can't do that "help them with their marriage" thing out in the open, 'cause it'd make me look like an even better potential mate than she already sadly and mistakenly thinks I am.
Yah, just like that Hindsight is 20/20 thing, folks kibbitzing about somebody else's relationship isn't fair, 'cause if they were one of the people mired in the relationship, they'd be a lot more ignorant, it's that Transparent Eye Thing again, its easy to be Superman and see what's going on if you can step outside of a thing, but when yer smack dab in the middle of it with all the Pain-ware Wires re-attached, you turn back into a Regular Stupid Asshole Who Forgets Her Birthday and Shit heh.
But that's not the end of it, either.
Yep, nope.
See, in this Latest Evolution of the Thing, the last of the folks that raised her recently died or something, and now she's all over my parents, who are admittedly a lot like a contemporary version of Fairy Tale Storybook People With Magic Powers, after all the shit they been through.
Yah, inviting my mom to meet her family and shit, buttering up my stepdad by calling him smart and stuff (not that either of them are easy to flatter or anything, normally, if you are somebody outside the Tribe, but now she's got that whole smart school teacher shit going for her, too).
And my mom knows what's going on, 'cause she's the one that first warned me about this whole impending nightmare years and years and years ago, but she's getting goddam soft in her old age and I dunno if I can really count on her to Hannibal the Cannibal it right anymore heh.
Bah, whatever, after all this, you guys prolly think I'm in love with this woman or something, but I'm not.
I don't think I really even have the hots for her (although I am sorta afraid to put that to any kind of test heh).
Yah, see, first off, all this junk around the thing pretty much ruins it for me, big-time.
And second, I'm burned out permanent and hard on that shit, I had my one true love a long time ago, the girl that no other woman could ever compare to on any level for me, and in my case, it just wasn't meant to be a thing that lasted forever and ever.
Yep, even though she was goddam perfect in ways most folks probably can't even imagine 'cause they never thought that deeply about it and aren't any good in bed, her entire family was world-hating born-again religious lunatics, thought I was the devil, and I'd tear their fucking arms off before I'd ever let them touch anybody in my family, let alone my kids.
And there was no way for me to get around that.
And I know that that hard-coded shit in me would eventually tear the girl I loved apart, 'cause I'm all wise like that, even when I don't always want to be.
Love stories don't always work out good in the end, y'know.
Not in Real Life.
But this brother's wife's brother's wife thing has the makings of a pretty funny romantic comedy with just the right sprinkling of a little mope and sympathy innit heh.
Well, as long as I don't turn into a Bad Guy or some shit.
Which is easy enough fer me, 'cause I ain't one.
Well, okay, maybe I am a Bad Guy, but I won't give up the Big Laugh Feel Good Cheapass Saturday Night Live Comedian Movie Formula Ending I know it could have without throwing down a pretty decent fight that'll make y'all proud heh.
And its not just her, its her daughter too, everywhere I go, there's this little girl looking at me with moony little kid crush eyes.
And everybody in my family is well aware of it, its actually the subject of a lot of in-house comedy, well, the little kid part, at least.
Needless to say, this is all very disconcerting for my brother's wife's brother, who was originally a guy that I'd describe as hilarious and light-hearted and witty, but has now become something of a mopey and miserable drunk, although he's still pretty hilarious and witty, even if I'm the only one that gets his jokes.
Yah, he still likes me just fine, he don't blame me for anything.
Well, I told you he was pretty damn cool, y'know.
But his mopey thing isn't making things better on the other fronts.
When I originally told you the story, the point I was after was to describe how being attractive can be bad for you.
Oh, I don't mean me being attractive, although I'm pretty damn fantastical, if I do sayso myself *rolls his one good eye*
I meant my brother's wife's brother's wife, who isn't invited to play any reindeer games.
See, I can joke with anybody else's wife about anything, stuff I can't even say on the internet because the internet is too innocent, and we all sit around the table laughing our asses off.
But as soon as my brother's wife's brother's wife shows up at the table, I suddenly have to go quiet.
My entire spirit sorta cringes with guilt when she catches on to the end of one of my dirty jokes, because she lights up in exactly the wrong way about it heh.
See, now maybe you can see exactly how everybody reads my mind ahaha.
Well, she is smoldering hot, man, there's no doubt about it.
And I frickin' love italians, because whatever else you might think about them as some kinda shitty stereotype, they really do love life.
Anyways, she's become a school teacher in the years since I last blabbered about her, so now she's a smoldering hot italian school teacher who loves how smart I am and wants to talk about all sorts of ancient history and stuff that only me and my stepdad know anything about, y'know, so holy shit this whole thing is just getting harder and harder and harder.
Yah, that's the latest evolution of the thing, the Hot For Teacher Stage heh.
Well, that's part of it, at least.
See, at first, I tried to avoid her, y'know.
But then I figgered that strategy was actually just sorta teasing her along and contributing to an Aura of Mystery or something.
I mean, there really isn't a lot of meat to me in Real Life, I'm about as simple as a dude can get, 'cause understanding yourself first is pretty much standard practice for anybody that likes to solve mysteries, just like a hunter needs to be able to go invisible and hold his breath, waiting for a shot, I need to be able to put all my own stuff aside and go motionless a lot, I need to turn to glass to do the ole Transparent Eye Trick, and you can't really do that if you are into carrying around a ton of fucking baggage and shit.
But the fantasies some people have of me (to fill in what they perceive as "the blanks," I guess) tends to be super complex and the source of much amazement on my part, although I don't actually hate it because at the same time their assumptions and suggestions tend to tell me a lot about where they came from and stuff.
So I decided that maybe it'd be better to let her get to know me, so she'd see exactly how sucky and crusty and crappy and non-fantastical and plain-vanilla I actually am.
And so now I actually actively try to ruin her fantasy of me on a continuous basis, taking it apart brick by everloving brick.
And that might not seem like much to you, but that's exactly the opposite of all my programming, its exhausting, I'm like a guy slowly tearing himself apart limb by limb.
You know what I'm talking about, sometimes somebody will say something nice about you, but it isn't exactly accurate or correct, y'know, there's a fudge factor that is working in your favor.
And you don't correct them, heck, they don't really wanna hear you correct them anyways, they wanna like you that way, so you just sorta bask in the glow of it, right?
Even though you know you are cheating a little?
But I am correcting all those things, and lemme tell you, it sucks some serious ass and I highly don't recommend it unless its some kinda absolute necessity and last resort type thing heh.
Yah, this is the real reason why I'm getting so exhausted at all these family functions, I mean, if this was a movie, we would've been sitting there, waiting for two people, standing very close to each other, talking all soft and intelligent and super perceptive, to explode into a savage frenzy of sensuality and rip each other's clothes off, for like two years now.
I'm all for suspense but that's way the hell too much tension to put anybody through ahaha.
Anyways, that's just another element of this Latest Evolution of the Thing.
See, on another level, I'm actually trying to help my brother's wife's brother fix his marriage so they'll stay together.
Because if they don't stay together, then I'll be in an awkward position that's an Order of Magnitude worse than the one I'm already in heh.
But I can't do that "help them with their marriage" thing out in the open, 'cause it'd make me look like an even better potential mate than she already sadly and mistakenly thinks I am.
Yah, just like that Hindsight is 20/20 thing, folks kibbitzing about somebody else's relationship isn't fair, 'cause if they were one of the people mired in the relationship, they'd be a lot more ignorant, it's that Transparent Eye Thing again, its easy to be Superman and see what's going on if you can step outside of a thing, but when yer smack dab in the middle of it with all the Pain-ware Wires re-attached, you turn back into a Regular Stupid Asshole Who Forgets Her Birthday and Shit heh.
But that's not the end of it, either.
Yep, nope.
See, in this Latest Evolution of the Thing, the last of the folks that raised her recently died or something, and now she's all over my parents, who are admittedly a lot like a contemporary version of Fairy Tale Storybook People With Magic Powers, after all the shit they been through.
Yah, inviting my mom to meet her family and shit, buttering up my stepdad by calling him smart and stuff (not that either of them are easy to flatter or anything, normally, if you are somebody outside the Tribe, but now she's got that whole smart school teacher shit going for her, too).
And my mom knows what's going on, 'cause she's the one that first warned me about this whole impending nightmare years and years and years ago, but she's getting goddam soft in her old age and I dunno if I can really count on her to Hannibal the Cannibal it right anymore heh.
Bah, whatever, after all this, you guys prolly think I'm in love with this woman or something, but I'm not.
I don't think I really even have the hots for her (although I am sorta afraid to put that to any kind of test heh).
Yah, see, first off, all this junk around the thing pretty much ruins it for me, big-time.
And second, I'm burned out permanent and hard on that shit, I had my one true love a long time ago, the girl that no other woman could ever compare to on any level for me, and in my case, it just wasn't meant to be a thing that lasted forever and ever.
Yep, even though she was goddam perfect in ways most folks probably can't even imagine 'cause they never thought that deeply about it and aren't any good in bed, her entire family was world-hating born-again religious lunatics, thought I was the devil, and I'd tear their fucking arms off before I'd ever let them touch anybody in my family, let alone my kids.
And there was no way for me to get around that.
And I know that that hard-coded shit in me would eventually tear the girl I loved apart, 'cause I'm all wise like that, even when I don't always want to be.
Love stories don't always work out good in the end, y'know.
Not in Real Life.
But this brother's wife's brother's wife thing has the makings of a pretty funny romantic comedy with just the right sprinkling of a little mope and sympathy innit heh.
Well, as long as I don't turn into a Bad Guy or some shit.
Which is easy enough fer me, 'cause I ain't one.
Well, okay, maybe I am a Bad Guy, but I won't give up the Big Laugh Feel Good Cheapass Saturday Night Live Comedian Movie Formula Ending I know it could have without throwing down a pretty decent fight that'll make y'all proud heh.
Sunday, April 8, 2007
The Tribe
Last week it was my brother's oldest kid's birthday.
And Good Friday was my stepdad's birthday.
And tonight I got Easter Dinner with my brother's wife's family at their house.
And a couple days from now I think I'm supposed to go the Aquarium and play bodyguard fer my aging momma and my brother's tiny kids.
And then its my little brother's birthday weekend.
And then its my birthday weekend (we were born exactly one week shy of two years apart).
And then its my brother's daughter's birthday the weekend after that (ugh they just keep tacking them on to the end now that they've filled in the middle ahaha).
And there's prolly another frickin' holiday mixed in there somewhere, like frickin' mother's day or something, although I'm so tired already that I don't even wanna look heh.
And then I know there's my mom's birthday right after that.
Everytime I get into the middle of this mess, I always think about how I'm one of a pitifully small handful of people on the internet that doesn't seem like he's some kinda cheap ass stereotypical orphan robot superhero scientist with no family or some shit.
But I also know that there's a lot of folks that ain't as lucky as I am (although most of ya ain't got even ten percent of the scar tissue I got, either).
'Cause some folks got family that ain't no good fer 'em.
And even worse, some folks got family that just pretends they love 'em, 'cause they're supposed to.
And some folks, like my buddy Linst, really are orphans.
And when you ain't never had nobody that you could actually trust with your life, better than you can trust yourself, even if its just for a little while before fate conspires to rip 'em away from you, if you never get to experience that warm and loving intelligent place that you can come from, like I do, 'cause I'm the Wild Bad One where I come from, y'know, well, that's a steady diet of some pretty cold, hard, and nasty shit.
So I guess I shouldn't complain.
And I guess I should cut people some slack.
And I do, now that I think about it.
Not a lot of slack, though, y'know, just some.
'Cause it ain't really luck and money and stuff that makes shit the way it is.
Its just us.
And we can make our shit any way we wanna make it, good shit or bad shit.
And just 'cause its artficial don't mean its fake.
Just like stuff that's all-natural ain't necessarily any good.
So to all you guys who got the big tribes fulla loving folks and tables fulla food and stuff tonight, I hope y'all have a good time, and don't feel guilty, 'cause you know you earned it.
And to all you guys who ain't got that, I wish you luck.
'Cause you can smoke 'em if you got 'em, but if you ain't got 'em, then you gotta make 'em.
And don't let anybody tell you that you can't.
Heck, if you are one of the guys that have to make it first, you'll probably appreciate it a lot more.
As for me, I'm the bastard son of a Vietnam Marine orphan from New York who beat the shit outta me every day until I was made out of iron, son of a woman with parents who hated her because she was so gentle, and they hated me even more, sometimes, although they actually liked the way I was made out of iron, 'cause gramps was an interrogator for CIA (actually the CIS, 'cause it was a Service before it became an Agency) and his wife was even tougher than he was, she totally wore him to shreds, y'know, so they were lotsa fun fer a hippy lovechild bastard to live with heh.
Yah, even though she told my mom that she hoped I would die when I was born, y'know, old-world curse style, Gramma likes me more than anybody else in the family, 'cause I'm the only one in the family she could never break ahaha.
Yah, she really hates weakness, but she's got her excuses, just like everybody else.
Its a frickin' harsh planet sometimes.
And I'm also the stepson of a relatively famous scientist and college professor with no father and an alchoholic mother who had to work the fry machine at McDonald's to pay his own way through school.
He's the guy that finally set me straight the hard way, y'know, by providing me with an example of a man who wasn't a piece of shit heh.
But I don't think I've ever seen anybody in even the extended family I got nowadays (after we killed off all the bad guys heh) ever share anything but appreciation and understanding, kindness and wisdom and love.
Its been almost twenty years of the good stuff, now.
Yah, that good junk is at least as contagious as the bad shit.
But it is artificial.
Created through artifice.
Just like everything that eventually becomes an artifact.
Just like honor, and being a man (or woman heh) of your word.
Its all whatever you make of it.
And its only as strong as you are.
And I suppose that's why this stuff wears me out so much.
But I ain't complaining.
Okay, I guess I am complaining.
But holy shit, how many birthdays in a row can one family possibly have?
Frickin' A, we need to get some people in the family who don't all get the urge to reproduce at exactly the same goddam time and spread this shit out a little more heh.
And Good Friday was my stepdad's birthday.
And tonight I got Easter Dinner with my brother's wife's family at their house.
And a couple days from now I think I'm supposed to go the Aquarium and play bodyguard fer my aging momma and my brother's tiny kids.
And then its my little brother's birthday weekend.
And then its my birthday weekend (we were born exactly one week shy of two years apart).
And then its my brother's daughter's birthday the weekend after that (ugh they just keep tacking them on to the end now that they've filled in the middle ahaha).
And there's prolly another frickin' holiday mixed in there somewhere, like frickin' mother's day or something, although I'm so tired already that I don't even wanna look heh.
And then I know there's my mom's birthday right after that.
Everytime I get into the middle of this mess, I always think about how I'm one of a pitifully small handful of people on the internet that doesn't seem like he's some kinda cheap ass stereotypical orphan robot superhero scientist with no family or some shit.
But I also know that there's a lot of folks that ain't as lucky as I am (although most of ya ain't got even ten percent of the scar tissue I got, either).
'Cause some folks got family that ain't no good fer 'em.
And even worse, some folks got family that just pretends they love 'em, 'cause they're supposed to.
And some folks, like my buddy Linst, really are orphans.
And when you ain't never had nobody that you could actually trust with your life, better than you can trust yourself, even if its just for a little while before fate conspires to rip 'em away from you, if you never get to experience that warm and loving intelligent place that you can come from, like I do, 'cause I'm the Wild Bad One where I come from, y'know, well, that's a steady diet of some pretty cold, hard, and nasty shit.
So I guess I shouldn't complain.
And I guess I should cut people some slack.
And I do, now that I think about it.
Not a lot of slack, though, y'know, just some.
'Cause it ain't really luck and money and stuff that makes shit the way it is.
Its just us.
And we can make our shit any way we wanna make it, good shit or bad shit.
And just 'cause its artficial don't mean its fake.
Just like stuff that's all-natural ain't necessarily any good.
So to all you guys who got the big tribes fulla loving folks and tables fulla food and stuff tonight, I hope y'all have a good time, and don't feel guilty, 'cause you know you earned it.
And to all you guys who ain't got that, I wish you luck.
'Cause you can smoke 'em if you got 'em, but if you ain't got 'em, then you gotta make 'em.
And don't let anybody tell you that you can't.
Heck, if you are one of the guys that have to make it first, you'll probably appreciate it a lot more.
As for me, I'm the bastard son of a Vietnam Marine orphan from New York who beat the shit outta me every day until I was made out of iron, son of a woman with parents who hated her because she was so gentle, and they hated me even more, sometimes, although they actually liked the way I was made out of iron, 'cause gramps was an interrogator for CIA (actually the CIS, 'cause it was a Service before it became an Agency) and his wife was even tougher than he was, she totally wore him to shreds, y'know, so they were lotsa fun fer a hippy lovechild bastard to live with heh.
Yah, even though she told my mom that she hoped I would die when I was born, y'know, old-world curse style, Gramma likes me more than anybody else in the family, 'cause I'm the only one in the family she could never break ahaha.
Yah, she really hates weakness, but she's got her excuses, just like everybody else.
Its a frickin' harsh planet sometimes.
And I'm also the stepson of a relatively famous scientist and college professor with no father and an alchoholic mother who had to work the fry machine at McDonald's to pay his own way through school.
He's the guy that finally set me straight the hard way, y'know, by providing me with an example of a man who wasn't a piece of shit heh.
But I don't think I've ever seen anybody in even the extended family I got nowadays (after we killed off all the bad guys heh) ever share anything but appreciation and understanding, kindness and wisdom and love.
Its been almost twenty years of the good stuff, now.
Yah, that good junk is at least as contagious as the bad shit.
But it is artificial.
Created through artifice.
Just like everything that eventually becomes an artifact.
Just like honor, and being a man (or woman heh) of your word.
Its all whatever you make of it.
And its only as strong as you are.
And I suppose that's why this stuff wears me out so much.
But I ain't complaining.
Okay, I guess I am complaining.
But holy shit, how many birthdays in a row can one family possibly have?
Frickin' A, we need to get some people in the family who don't all get the urge to reproduce at exactly the same goddam time and spread this shit out a little more heh.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)