dawn

It’s an intriguing phrase.

The evidence of the truth,,is in the thing..

Like you,

I can look at you and know you’re a DickBag.

The truth is “self evident”.

You are walking,talking proof that bags of dicks are ambulatory . They drive cars, they buy groceries , they vote…

So I think about something like the Boston Marathon bombing..

Alright, let me think about this, we let people into the country, because we let anyone into the country, and these two people were really mad about America’s support of Israel.

SO,,, they couldn’t get their signal out.

They couldn’t print pamphlets.

They couldn’t buy a megaphone and be heard, they had to send a message with death….because that’s the only way people listen.

Because people are busy, and they love themselves, and they are distracted,,,

So…

Gotta get their attention .

Can;t be polite about it,,, had to build a bomb.

(A bah…?)

Not a bah, a bomb, please don’t interrupt…

Sooooo.

Enemies of the State?

Your state holds hands and is birthed out of the ideology of the old testament, the signal travels downstream for generations and voila…

A way of thinking.

A longstanding way of thinking.

A house that provides for itself and sells the comfort of a world beyond this one.

A glimpse to joy and glory beyond the mind numbing kamikaze mission of holding down a job…

(The dream)

But not everyone’s dream…

Every story needs bad guys.

(Does it make you sad??)

Of course it does.

If you have any trace of that John Wayne code in you,

“I don’t like being stolen from, I don’t like being lied to”

And they lied to me.

(This isn’t about conflict, is it?)

I’m having a bad day.

I didn’t sleep much last night, so when I got home I immediately went to bed.Put my face in the pillow,invited Cricket into the blanket cocoon I made for myself.

(A little sanctuary to block out the world..)

I’m not suicidal.

I just can’t get the fuck out of bed.

I can’t bring myself to care, I only smoke cigarettes and do gas station heroin.

I built an altar of musical possibility, and I don’t even feel like strumming a fucking chord.

I have no attraction to other human beings, no desire to be around them, no desire to be liked or disliked.

My few friends are fucking losers.

I’m smarter than my job.

My family has the worst blood.

And I was put here and it’s so goddamn unfair.

I don’t want to do it anymore..

(A gift…)

Doesn’t feel like a gift.

Feels like I’m a trash goblin in a kingdom of trash goblins.

I’m supposed to vote?

I’m really supposed to keep up with this bullshit you care about?

YOU…are so full of shit.

I got caught with pot, so I had to hang my head down in job interviews?? Because of this disgusting and documented stain on my character??

Then you realized you could make money off it, then it became legal.

All’s well.

All is forgiven..

Just as long as YOU make some cocksucking mother fucking money off it.

Hypocrites.

All of you.

Fucking curr…

You’re exhausting.

Your bullshit is fucking exhausting and I’m sick of you..

(You’re high every day)

Don’t guilt me,, shame doesn’t work on me.

I was born in it.

I just…fuck man…fuck..

(This is all there is??)

What else is there??!!

I cut and I spare…

Sigh….

Fuckin difficult,,,just “being” every day,,

So much to be pissy about..

(Hey..)

Hey.

(The real fear is if you give up this act. If you reach a place where you can’t talk about it . That’s the true terror… All this stuff you’re dealing with,,it’s just a trial. )

Everything a fuckin trial..

(Temporary, just don’t die here)

So difficult,,,

( you speak, therefor you are.

You ain’t dead yet…)

I saw this interview of Gene Wilder talking about Richard Pryor, and it was one of the sweetest things I’ve seen.

Like two children so happy to play together.

It was really beautiful.

(I liked the story of going to the museum,,the story of something catching a person’s eye, and the childlike desire to share that with someone else…)

I like that too.

Something really pure about it…

Like a kid tapping your elbow and saying

“Hey mister, look at this. Isn’t this neat?”

Something in there.

—

I am the one that can take it.

I can weather it.

I can make it through.

Just to fart on you.

Just to stand in your general vicinity and make you smell bad.

I’m the one.

The one for that job..

Pay no mind to the depression.

Shake it off.

Go to work tomorrow and act like it’s all fine.

It is.

It’s fine.