None of the colors were correct this morning. I believe I'll stay in.
I'm in a documentary mood today. We started with "Kill Your Idols", which was about how punk music in the past relates to early 2000's music. They didn't call it punk and sneered at the mention of The Ramones but, in the end, everyone was just trying to do their thing bc that's what they liked to do. The old-timers were upset they weren't original enough or maybe just because the new kids didn't sound like they did...which was fucking nuts. Although I liked it. Most of it. Amazingly, I already knew "Teenage Jesus & The Jerks" but none of the other ones. Well, except for the "Yeah Yeah Yeahs" but I'm not sure they belonged there. One of those "Goo Goo Dolls/Sex Maggots" stories.
Next was "The Cove". Effective but not affecting. I don't know. Maybe I'm desensitized. Basically, a lot of dolphins were being killed by this small group in Japan and the doc was about the guys who tried to get footage of it. I'm always torn in these instances. Especially when it's the filmmaker putting himself in the documentary. On the one hand, yeah he's working hard to get the message out but...there's DVD sales to consider, that's all I'm saying. Maybe not in this case. Maybe he gave all the profits to some dolphin charity, I don't know, I haven't done my research. But in the overall...
Now I'm rewatching "Food, Inc.". I'm always struck by the part about corn. And then I think about how, if we stopped eating cows, the methane percentage in the air would skyrocket from all of their shit. God, that's not cynical at all. Get a grip. That's right, breathe and continue. Maybe these aren't the best background noise to a semi-comedic literary undertaking. I say semi-comedic because it all derives from truth, but arranged in a colorful way. Better than a quote book, worse than a movie. But life is long.
Oh, and I watched two others last night: "Gonzo" about Hunter S. Thompson and "Exit Through The Gift Shop" about...well, it's supposedly about the "underground" art scene but really it's about this idiot. Or at least that's the way he comes across and is portrayed. I know it's incredibly easy to criticize but I hate it. I hate how people who are doing something, if not original then original to them, are always always exploited by the idiot who's better at marketing. I had an argument once with (sigh) let's call him an artiste (strong strong emphasis on the e) about the motivation behind street artists' work. My view is that it's all advertising. They want to be noticed for their work and not for who they are. But they still want to sell. Not sell out, just sell. Who the fuck doesn't? We all gotta...geez, that meat looks gross...sorry, still on "Food Inc". Anyway, his argument was it's all noble and only about the work and blah blah blah, forgetting (conveniently) the fact that we had just come from a gallery where his work was hanging, big ol' pricetag at the bottom. Fish gotta swim, birds gotta eat. Don't forget it.
Tonight, I eat dinner with the family. Can't wait to see what happens when the check comes around. So fucking mundane. Yesterday I was at a party in a closet tripping on salvia. I saw my whole life laid out in front of me like a movie and everything is gonna be freaking awesome. Then we played "You Don't Know Jack" between 4 people and 2 controllers. There, am I social now? "So glad to see you out and about" they say. If only they knew. The city is no place to survive for those of us with addictive personalities. Feels like I have a hangover even on the days when I'm sober. I'm going to start updating my every location and meal to facebook, see if that shuts them up. If only people weren't so awful, says the recluse.
A lot of fear and loathing all around. Still, though, generally optimistic...
(as the bombs fell)
A road trip. This time I, with the help of my trusty sidekick, Jesus, will find the American dream...at some point in the near future. Coming soon. Under construction. To be continued. Seriously.
A new year and it seems I'm slowly adjusting to this new world/body/mind. The only problem with it all is that I'm the narrator and, while I'm stuck with him, it does mean that often there are these long, uninterrupted breaks of dialogue where I'm arguing with myself over what I've just said. And, just like the idiot hero, managing to say the last line of the argument out loud. Usually an "I'm sorry" or "For the love of..." confusing any within earshot. Because, oh yes, this happens in public now, too, which I'd like to think looks more like a romantic comedy but probably comes across as more survival horror. I don't make these rules but god do I try to live by them.
Sean Bean has just walked into the room. He stands in the only shaft of sunlight. He's got such a great voice. And I wish I had his hair.
Sorry, I'm in the middle of this movie called "Black Death". It's about the plague but I'm pretty sure they're going to have to kill something or take something from one place to the other. Your basic B-movie/video game logic. Holy shit, was that Ray Winstone? He's worked with Scorcese!
...IMDB says I'm a liar. And I can live with that. The men on screen are off to fight a demon. God, I'd love to have something like that to do. But I have no demons, dragons, spirits, or any other malevolent beastie I need to slay. Other than this...I don't want to call it anything, because then it becomes that and if you call it a book, well then just go ahead and blow my head off right now. Because there's no way that that is a viable way to live or do anything else, really. Absolution. Many words have more than one meaning. I'll tell you it's strange being back in this city where I have done nothing but misbehave. And now it's 2012. Wouldn't it be nice to have a woman to misbehave and have adventures with? We can't have it all. Yet. One morning, I'll wake up and it'll all be bananas and strawberries and I won't even be able to connect the dots from here to there.
Just keep going and don't listen to the naysayers. We begin over and over again. It's all wits, skill and how much luck on any given day. And any and everything with a happy ending to get you through the shitty parts. No new information. No definite plans. A ship but no star to steer her by. My default position.
Funny how often it is that I'll have written an entire entry, then it erases for absolutely no reason at all...I'm starting to suspect a pattern here...
I get bogged down in my own problems. I can either let them turn into 'neuroses' or deal with them, try to be a better person, and, oh I don't know, attempt to be happy. Maybe have the tiniest bit of fun. Not be so...usual. Imagine what kind of tedium life would become if you stopped being able to surprise yourself.
There was a part in here (let's call it draft 1) about needing to find a place to belong and someone to share it with but....well, it was kind of obvious. So instead, I'm going to post my favorite moment of any game I've played this year. And my driving is about the same.
I need to get out more. Looking outside of my universe puts it all in perspective. Yeah, let's try happy for awhile. See how that goes.
If this were a video, I know exactly what I'd do: we'd start with a white background, after a couple of beats, my head would poke out from the left side to stare straight out at the screen, then duck back in again. Another beat and you'd see my head again, only this time much more cautious. I'd step out into the middle of the screen, constantly checking my surroundings, like a wild animal before taking a drink from the lake. Then, once I was sure I was safe, a few quick turns to look behind me, I'd straighten myself up, dust off my arms and start with something like:
WHAT THE HELL?!?
Who expects their house to burn down? Then, since I am obviously so brilliant, to then lose it and scream at my family I didn't give a shit what they thought because I felt monumentally disrespected and subsequently getting fired for it? Oh and let's not forget about the other fights that have come out of nowhere the past couple of months. It's not supernatural, I'm on edge and less inclined to deal with the bullshit that I usually just bitch about on my oh-so-productive-and-relevant blog. Doesn't make me a hero or, for that matter, not an asshole. The only sense in which I'm a victim is in the fact that I've lost my house and virtually every single thing I've ever owned other than some clothes, my dog, and a dream journal.
Since then, other than the human drama that I allowed myself to get sucked into, it's been shopping and isolation. When I go out it's always by myself b/c I just know I'm going to say something to someone that I like and it's just going to get me into trouble. I'd much rather stay here, play xbox or read a book, meaning I'm assured a somewhat pleasant day, than run the risk of disappointing another person's self-imposed expectations of me and what I should be thinking. If nothing else, this whole experience has shown me that I am different. The only time I really let go was when I yelled at my mother and her husband/my ex-boss, and that was only because the anger made it slip out. I'm finished with the bullshit, I'm done, and you can keep it.
But this isn't a video and I'm not the person who wrote the rest of this thing anymore. I use too many words to say what I mean. I don't think I'm destined for anything typical. I also don't want it that way. I'm trying to decide what kind of life I want to lead from this point but the one I want keeps getting further away. A life where there are people who are genuinely interested rather than just looking to fill some part of themselves that I somehow speak to. So instead I can do...what?
If you had the means and the wherewithal to start a new life wherever you wanted, no matter what that life would be, wouldn't you at least want someone there who actually cared about you, who's sole desire in sticking around was to find out what happens to you? Otherwise, what's the point? At this point, all anyone would have to do is say "let's go" and I would be booking the next flight.
I guess I'm still just as emo and depressing. None of my stories seem to end with a happy ending anymore.
Do I really rebuild a brand new house exactly the way I want, even though I no longer have a job to pay for it? Do I run away to the ends of the earth, forsaking everything that's come before, to start a new life? Do I do something less selfish, join the peace corps? Fund a start-up? Piss it all away? All of these questions are really just incidental. You know what the biggest question is? The one that makes me lie awake constantly, terrified that I can't think of an answer?
There was that time I bought a house. But then it burned down.
Thursday was beautiful, Friday had its charms (for sure), Saturday I was in a bouncy house with a 2-year-old and Sunday I was evacuating. Tomorrow should be interesting. It's not confirmed yet but it's pretty certain. I'm okay with losing everything I own; I got the things that really, truly matter. Just another random situation I will handle.
I wish I felt more distraught but I only feel like laughing. Or is that denial?
*sigh* It just keeps getting weirder.
Day 2
I am exhausted.
It's been up and down all day long. I get hope from one source and another destroys it. I look at a map that shows my home out of the danger zone, then I see a reporter standing on a street in my neighborhood amongst cinders.
I love my friends so much but nothing anyone's saying is helping. But what could they say?
I can tell you what they shouldn't say: the things my parents are. What car they're going to buy next or where their next vacation is going to be. Must be nice. They're devastated over an unfinished home they hadn't even begun to move into yet. And I have no home. Maybe I never did. Maybe it was just a hunk of wood with my stuff in it. I tell myself that this is just their way of dealing. But then I tell myself that their way of dealing is awful and selfish.
And then to get yelled at for forgetting papers like my birth certificate. I have used that exactly zero times and isn't it on a fucking hard drive somewhere? Will I no longer own my car because I forgot the lease? Will I not get insurance because I left the property info behind? Could I please not get admonished for one fucking day? And we're all going to work tomorrow like it's going to be so easy to focus on some rich fuck's tri-level fucking swimming pool design.
Day 2, stage 2...anger. Fuck them anyway. I wish I was a fucking tree.
I imagine myself back there. Over and over again. Day in and day out. Innocuous little details that seem to mean nothing. The air the next day feeling crisp and cool in scalding hot temperatures. The image of you standing there, the water reflecting the sky, like you were hovering in the air. In pajamas. How the light didn't seem to scatter quite right that morning and continues to hit my eyes in a way that's different than a week ago. The world became calmer and more chaotic at the same time. A beautiful contradiction.
I remember parting the blinds ever so slightly earlier in the day. That's why there was moonlight to see you. I was going to shave, too, before I fell asleep, but then you said you were coming and I decided not to, thinking, stupidly, that it would make a difference. The smile, the breath, the softness. Most of all, your smell. The surprise was worth every shitty moment of my life that came before and led up to it.
I'm an idiot. I'm crazy. I have absolutely no right typing any of this.
I think, "Here I go again. Everything they say is correct. I am completely, utterly predictable." But I hear the words come from you and somehow they're comforting. Then I think, "Maybe." And in what kind of cruel world would I be able to think that without it being possible?
These spam comments are really starting to piss me off. It's one thing to spam a blog but to use such terrible grammar? Unforgivable.
You know what else is unforgivable? Netflix not acknowledging the existence of "A Muppet Christmas Carol". I feel like I'm in "1984" every time I look at the Muppet filmography on your page, Netflix, seriously. How could you not have possibly the best Muppet movie ever made? I'm just saying.
July is finally, finally over and it never seemed so strange. Human beings: what a concept. No matter what I say to the ones I'm related to, I invariably piss somebody off (usually the same person). No matter what I say to the ones who have the option to never speak to me again, they just seem to love me more. Needless to say, not feeling a lot of love from the family at the moment. I don't remember who said most men lead lives of quiet desperation but I have been anything but quiet. The things that were taking up my whole view just four weeks ago, I barely think about now; we're onto this whole new set of problems. I don't know if I came up with this, probably not, but I once said, "If I was in charge, we'd have none of these problems... we'd have different, way worse ones." I really need to stop watching the news. It makes me hate everyone even more than I already do.
I feel my thoughts jumping around from one thing to the next. I can't focus on anything. It's like being in the middle of a storm and trying to watch television, you only catch bits and pieces so is it even worth trying to watch it at all? Which is like me saying it's better to not focus on the jumbled thoughts and just sit around waiting for something to happen, which is utterly ridiculous.
I want something to care about. I know I could. I have. It's just there's so many other things taking up space and it just seems to be building and building and pushing me in a direction that I'm not even sure that I want to go. But when you owe someone something, you do your best to balance the books and hope that one day you'll have paid down the interest. But I know that I only feel that way now. That's what's great about being an adult; you have the long view. A kid pitches a fit because he can't have a candy bar and it's the end of the world because he doesn't know if he'll ever get a chance to get that candy bar again. It is the only, last, best candy bar in the whole world. That's kind of how I feel about this new situation. Do I wait for my chance? Or do I throw caution to the wind and just go for it? My style falls mainly in line with the latter and, while I do have a great many stories I can tell as a result of it, nothing every really came of it, obviously, since I'm sitting here doing the same thing I've been doing for god knows how many months now. This is that twilight moment in human drama where you have absolutely no idea what to do...until whatever's supposed to happen does anyway.
Yeah, I didn't expect this past week to turn into a Lord of the Rings-style trilogy. But here go:
1) Noises in the attic.
2) The AC breaking.
3) Break-up counselling.
4) Seeing "She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named"
5) Finding out a married friend seriously has the hots for me.
...yeah, exactly.
1) I heard it when I came home one night of the week for all of 20 seconds. Then I stayed up, loopy as hell from the sleep deprivation I'd been experiencing, for an hour and a half, walking around inside and outside my house, carrying a broom in one hand and my softball bat in another. Also, I tied a bandanna around my head, Rambo-style, just to complete the picture. If you're going to do something, do it right.
2) I was back at my mom's house, sleeping upstairs, waiting for the temperature to go down. It's no picnic upstairs on most days; for some reason, the AC unit doesn't ever manage to get the place below 90, even during the mild months, but it works like gangbusters the moment the sun goes down. Except for this week. Of course, I didn't find this out until Sunday, when they returned. So I was sweating my ass off, didn't sleep, and it was because the AC was broken only I didn't know it. I thought the awfulness was normal.
3) My buddy Jesus called me the next night at 4:30 AM, regarding yet another incident between him and this girl Kate he's been infatuated with for all of seven years. The first night, I was nothing but supportive; I stroked his ego and gave him resolve like the best of them. The next night he called again. This time I told him a little story about me and three other gigantic wastes of time, during which I turned into an overaccomodating, sycophantic, awful, awful human being. I lost myself. And if I had to hear him defend whatever fucked up thing she had just put him through one more time, I was simply going to lose it. The main piece of advice I gave him was this: go big or go home. The next day he arranged a lunch with her where he put it all out on the table...and she walked away. He feels like shit but he made the right decision and I told him so. I like my friends to be happy.
4) On Sunday, my friend Kelsea returned from her vacation to Hawaii. She brought me back a t-shirt and a shot glass which were nice enough but she also brought me back this little totem. I always ask people, when they go to places and are planning to bring back souvenirs, to find absolutely the smallest gift they can find. This is both practical and fun, in my opinion. i have a 4-inch Statue of Liberty, 1-inch Eiffel Tower, a 3-centimeter Mount Rushmore, among others. Kelsea brought back a 2-inch tall Tiki god idol...the god of winner. How awesome is that? But later we went to Planet K. She was walking in front of me, stopped, and nearly dove into an aisle. I asked at full volume in this small shop, "What are you doing?", at which point she grabbed my arm and pulled me down, telling me who she just saw. I nearly fainted. Then I got the hell out of there through the back door, never having laid eyes on her. The funny thing is that Kelsea said she wasn't with the guy she left me for and married a week later. Sweet justice.
5) I got home Sunday night and slept for 16 hours straight. Then I woke up and started texting my married friend. It started with me saying something about Ewoks being indoctrinated into the rebellion solely through their own religious fervor and ended with her asking if she could wear sexy underwear. She really likes sexy underwear. And, even though I know how wrong it is, I can't stop thinking about it. Plus all of the other details that really leads me to think that it's not that big of a deal.
And that was the week that was. Gollum's dead, the Emperor's dead, Neo's dead, and Rocky defeated Ivan Drago. Wait, that was Part IV. Oh, God, please don't let there be a part iv, I'm not sure my brain can take it.
In comparison to the last post, what I'm about to record might seem somewhat glib and less important than racial intolerance but, I assure you, what just happened is doing a bigger number on my head than any bigotry. Because I can look at someone who thinks like that, put them in the crazy pile, and just not deal with them. This...I've done to myself...
First, a summation: Saturday was incredibly frustrating and awful. Not only due to what I said happened in the last post but because I had been tasked to house-sit for these people. Plans of revenge swirled through my brain like a wonderful drug. Just a few things I took care of right away: I segregated their DVDs and loaded up the DVR with shows like "All in the Family", "Martin", and every single piece of work done by Tyler Perry. I was on the verge of canceling all the NASCAR races, too, but felt that it might lead to civil war. Friends were also brought in on the fun. Kelley suggested buying a bunch of Oreos, putting them in a jar with a note saying "Can't We All Just Get Along?" which I thought was brilliant if slightly less antagonistic than what I was going for. Joe suggested loading up the fridge with watermelon and fried chicken. I argued against it, saying that it sort of ran counterproductive to my point since it plays into racial stereotypes. I'm not sure he understood what I was saying.
So there was all of that. Little did I know (don't you just love that phrase?) it was about to shift into third gear. Turns out that some interested parties were wanting to take a look at the house since it's for sale and gave me about ten minutes notice. As I had just sat down to breakfast. And, stupidly, I had settled in for the week, meaning my stuff was everywhere and I still had an unfriendly dog to corral into the back of my car. But that was simply annoying, it was about to get worse.
Apparently the showing went well. Not that it matters, the place is a freaking mansion, how can you not be impressed by it? So, that having been wrapped up, Dexter and I turned around and headed back home. On Friday, my aunt took it upon herself to inform me that the guest house, where I was planning to sleep and set up camp, was haunted. Now, I've been a strong believer and am currently a strong skeptic. I can't ignore experiences I've had but refuse to believe that it's as simple an explanation as what most people say it is. Because I find that most people are fucking retarded.
However, that night, I woke up screaming from a dream I'd had where I was fighting a dragon that I managed to defeat but who turned into my dog at the very end. I've woken up in that same way twice, including that night. The other time? Yeah, I was in the same place. So, needless to say, I packed up right quick and moved into the main house, praying that the prospective buyers weren't total dillholes and would maybe take the Sunday before the 4th of July to leave me alone and relax. And, miracle of miracles, they did. Actually, all of Sunday was glorious. I drank a bottle of wine, alternating between the hot tub and pool. I taught Dexter how to jump into the pool on command. I finished all the projects I had planned for the next two days. It was quite amazing, once again proving my point that drama comes solely from other people and never from me.
Yeah, I was wrong about that.
What is now yesterday, July 4th, things took a turn. And, right now, it all seems bigger than it probably will turn out to be but...well...I have a strange feeling. The day was largely uneventful: I did some more work, finished the chores I had had assigned to me, and played The Beatles Rock Band until my fingers were sore. Being able to play Expert on those games is apparently just like riding a bicycle, you never forget. It seemed as if I would get two completely uneventful days in a row. That's almost funny now...
I've been on a date and a half with this girl, Brenda. I say "and a half" because the second date was called on account of her upset stomach. I had texted her Saturday to wish her a happy 4th and to see how her weekend was going. Sunday night she texts back that it was fine. Fair enough. I ask when I get to see her again. She responds that she's just not feeling the romantic spark between us but she'd still like to hang out. First of all, kill me. Second of all, ladies, what in God's name is wrong with all of you? I'll admit I'm no Frank Sinatra or anything but I can safely say I score no less than a 6 on the hotness scale. I'm just saying. I texted back saying I didn't grant her premise, that we'd only been on one and a half dates, and that every time I'd heard that, I'd always proven the lady wrong. These are facts, not hubris. Well, writing it down is hubris but this is my blog after all, right? I added that she still seemed like a person I'd want to know, though, regardless of relationship status and that, if she was okay with that, we could definitely hang out again. To which she replied "very cool".
Then I took my home invasion kit (softball bat) and sussed out the remainder of my frustration on a tree in the front yard. Let me be clear: I am not an angry person by any stretch of the imagination. But shit had been piling up at an alarming rate and needed to get worked out.
I haven't even gotten to the best part...
I decided that enough was enough, loaded up the car and headed to my home an hour away. It's one thing feeling pissed off and unloved in an empty house, it's another when the empty house doesn't belong to you...and you can hear the echo of you talking to yourself, which I have been doing a lot these days. So, I'm driving along and suddenly get the urge to make the call. The call that I'd been talking myself out of for nine months. To her. As in her. The one I moved back to Texas to get away from. Why? I don't know. I have problems.
Now, I had deleted her number, name, contact info, everything from my life...but still my brain (who I'm 98% sure is working against me) retained the phone number. I called...and she picked up. Went a little something like this:
Red: "Hello?"
Me: "Hello?"
Red: "Who is this?"
Me: "This is Travis."
Red: "...Hello, Travis."
Me: "There's no possible way you still have this phone number."
Red: "Well, obviously I do, since you're talking to me on it."
Me: "...So...what's going on?"
Red: "Just watching fireworks with people."
Me: "Cool. I didn't expect you to pick up."
Red: "Then why'd you call."
Me: "I don't know. I kind of was half-hoping you wouldn't be there."
(Silence)
Me: "I just feel like we should still be able to talk."
Red: "That's fine...if you promise not to act like a psycho."
Me: "Right back at you there."
(Silence)
Me: "Well, good. Why don't we just leave it there?"
Red: "Okay."
Me: "Have a good one."
Red: "You, too."
End of call
Now I'm sitting here, even more confused, my brain screaming at me like it's on a roller coaster, not knowing my ass from my elbow...with a giant smile on my face and laughing at random intervals at how strange life continues to be.
Who knows what happens next? For any of it? But I will say this: it definitely won't be boring.
Anger. Nothing but anger the past two days. Feeling marginalized, alone, misused, misunderstood, and, most importantly, pissed off.
Man plans, God laughs. Not to say that I'm blaming Him for any of this. No, it's, once again, the raging stupidity of the fleshbags that has me up in arms. Over what? You name it: gay marriage, racial equality, our President, the economy, the right to post whatever you want on Facebook, the Arab Spring, controlling the pet population, the right to love, enjoying a quiet breakfast at a leisurely pace. No, all of my views on things are decidedly wrong in the eyes of those from whom I inexplicably sprang. I think it's because I have used my brain to determine my opinions on these matters. They think it's because I'm young and haven't experienced the world correctly, as if it were that easy...or stupid.
They think they know me but they have no idea. How many times have I grinned from ear to ear, having conversations in light, lilting voices, staying agreeable and humble, only to be thinking how best to murder them and their children in their sleep? How I could possibly get away with burning their homes to the ground...with them inside, screaming for agony and forgiveness to a god who I pray would ignore them?
Yeah, that's intense. That's where I'm at.
And all because they forbade my legally independent, mentally handicapped sister from being friends with another legally independent, mentally handicapped boy...who happens to be black.
What fucking century is this? I will grant that people are allowed to have their own beliefs, even if I think they're fucking stupid, IF they can justify their position. How can they not see the bigotry, the ignorance, the intolerance inherent in such awful decisions? Or, worse, maybe they can see it...but just don't care. How can someone sit in judgement on an entire race or gender or sexually orientated people? The truth is you can...but you'd be wrong.
And that's what it boils down to: right and wrong. And I don't care what arguments you have to the contrary, what they are doing is wrong. Now it's my turn to be intolerant of them.
People think they know me. If they could see inside my head right now, they'd run away screaming. They think that I'm upset; they've never seen me upset.
Standing between someone I love more than anything in this world and their happiness is the most dangerous place you can be. This time, I will not keep my mouth shut and allow stupidity to continue to reign. It's sad that I can look at the reality before my eyes and still feel the need to question it. I'm really sick of that feeling.
