low battery

I’ve been waking up around 3 a.m. lately. Then I toss and turn all night until I have to get ready for work. There’s no good reason for it. It feels cruel some days, but that’s just the way it is and there’s no going around it. 3 a.m. and at the snap of a finger, I’m awake.

The first thing it reminds me of is in the movie the Exorcism of Emily Rose, though I don’t smell burning or the presence of strange invisible intruders. There’s nothing evil about it besides having to toss and turn the next few hours before I make myself pretty and presentable. And I highly doubt higher powers would want a person with my track record to be martyred for any reason. I have no ties to anything, not even my own past. Things are live and learn, and shitty things would become experiences to be learned.

I never did aspire to be much of anything. Not to be rich or famous, or financially well off. I just wanted to be okay. It seemed the only sensible aspiration to me at my youth and even now. I’m not a pessimist, nor do I just focus on the bad things, nor am I one of those bleak realists whose philosophy is, “why bother.” I severed the ties to my past and hold nothing against myself in regards to the future because they, along with the what ifs have never happened or already have. Everyone’s got demons, but not many of us become pals with them.

I don’t think I’m alone when I say I’m simply waiting for something, and the great philosopher Tom Petty said, “waiting is the hardest part.” So here I am, doing strange random things to see if any dormant passions within fulfill themselves. I went rock climbing, to a renaissance fair, busked in a subway, ran a marathon, fed the helpless and homeless, worked a suicide hotline, coached illiterate kids, started a book club, counseled crap relationships, etc. And nothing. I get nothing. Have I become jaded? Jaded by what? Is there something wrong with me? My perspective? Hippies say your perspective manifests your reality, but I gave it a chance, a real good chance. And so, these hippies don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about and never have. Just an idea. A dream. I knew of a guy who had a dream once. Dude got shot.

Patience by Guns n’ Roses eventually ends.

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prick with glasses

This guy comes into my work, suit and tie sort, crisp, chubby, orders epresso or something like it. He keeps his eye on me, I wasn’t taking his order, but I made his drink. He talks to me over the glass. People normally do, I normally gave half-aired responses and throw in a few funny one-liners. Not with this cat. He takes off his silver-rimmed glasses and starts polishing it as though it could get any shinier. Then he asks, “what are you doing? I mean, with your life. Answer me in one sentence and I’ll tell you if it’s lame or not.”

Shit. How does anyone answer that? Isn’t life just a pass-time of which we’re all passing through? I heard that in a lazy song once but decided that song spoke some harsh truth. So did this cat. It was a simple question. Why couldn’t I answer? I thought about the bullshit I would have said if I was on a first date but he could’ve been a salesman and seen right through it. I thought about telling him the truth and that would’ve either shut him up or would’ve had him conclude I was joking, inviting further conversation. But he got me. On the first try. That’s hard to do. So I avoided answering his question, pretending like I was busy, spitting jokes. This cat laughed but then said, “no really, what are you doing in life? One sentence.” Fuck this cat in his fucking suit, I thought.

After he’d gone was when I really thought about his question. What was I doing with my life? I feel I’ve accumulated enough knowledge with a balanced sensed of philosophy to make a difference. I simply lacked the motivation and the initiative. They were not so simple in contrast to a futilistic outlook. I inherited one of those. Everyone wants to be famous, advertise themselves on the internet. Not me man. I wanted to disappear and live in the real world. But this cat really put it into a blunt inquiry that may or may not have been a manifestation of my own subconscious. Fuck this cat. But he was right. What the fuck was I doing?

 

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Fantasies

The best years of your life, they want to steal. Your youth is the best time to assemble a disreputable past. Sure, your relationships have fairytale notes… on paper, but believe me, fairytales were never real. Those are trumped up expectations embedded into us in our youth to keep us good and predictable. Get out there and make some fucking stupid choices before you run out of time. Because I promise you your future selves will wish the same thing.

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Craigslist ad

Hello. I feel lost and uninspired. Things in life feel bland. Sometimes I can’t tell the difference between being lost and waiting for something. I’m not a bad person. I do drink because there’s not much else to do though, but it doesn’t affect the my life in a bad way. Maybe it’s because I don’t want anything. I don’t stress over the things others do. I’m just bored. But Kierkegaard said boredom is the root of all evil. What if I do evil or become an evil person because I’m waiting to be called? I own a bible but wasn’t raised on it. I believe most of it. Sometimes, I ask a question then flip it open and point to see where chance answers are. It works sometimes but works better in a bukowski book of poems. I dunno. I’m rambling now, but I think that emphasizes my feeling of being lost. Thank you.

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Don’t let them change you

They say you can’t change someone. It’s true. But once in a while you meet someone that makes you want to change into a better person. That’s important in a mate that they can do that to you. It’s a sign of respect too. The best part is that they would have you believe it to be your idea from the start.

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World is skipping town

Looks like the world is going to shambles. Don’t best yourself up about it because you couldn’t do anything. He only had a short time after landing in the ocean. Science and religion are at odds because of ego and pride. Or Eggo’s and wives. But there’s not many bigger shames than a man (or woman,for you civil activists) that thought he could do little. We fight and claw over freedom of speech yet say so little. I don’t mean verbally, but actions have always spoken louder, possibly even the only things that did speak. You conform and will only perpetuate that which binds us.

Are we not bound by flesh over metal? It’s strange this world of over 8 billion people call communication whatever it is we twiddle with our thumbs on a gizmo. Is that how humanity is connected? Through thumbs?

Revolution is happening in every country but ours. Why? Everyone has less than we do yet they have so much more. They have the human spirit unbound. We’re focused on not not being the one voted off. If you knew, then why do we act as though the war is lost before it had ended? You and me, baby, i’d never give up on you. Would you, me?

I’m not a hero. That’s why. There’s not one courageous bone in my body. I’m am adviser, observer. I’ll leave the heroics to the real heroes. Better a fool for a teacher than a fool for a king. But I know you won’t do anything but perpetuate the illusions. Of course, I say that in hopes of being proven wrong.

Whatever you do, just don’t become one of those weird new agers that talk or life without a single idea of what it really is. Or say you’re channeling something. They are just docile whores with mattresses attached to their backs. And yes, what they do is contagious, in order to bed more, just so they can have the excuse to say they’re to peaceful and living to fight back. But you and me, we know there’s no excuse. That’s the human spirit in it’s entirety. Freedom is eternal vigilance.

Anyway, I know I said I wasn’t a doer. I’m now a wanted criminal. No laws we’re broken that were made laws to begin with. Your American dream has become fantasy. Dreams are still feasible and that is the difference.

I’m not going to say dumb shit like, ‘wake up!’ or, ‘open your eyes’. I already know what you will do. Here’s the thing about someone who is always right; they often yearn to be proven wrong. Anyway, go check your twitters and bookfaces and vines and whatever the hell else you think is more important than you.

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babysitter

I spruced myself up that night. I knew she was coming over to watch the kids. My wife was going to work later than usual. It was a casual day at work but I decided to wear the fancy shit I owned. Collared shirt, fitted slacks, even the cuff-links. It didn’t mattered which, any cuff-links would have done, I imagined. I simply pretended that I had worked late and that my attire was unnecessarily evil to me even though it really was.

After she put my little girl to sleep, I went to work. She’d worked with us several times before, but through an agency. This time, she was on her own. My wife had asked her for her personal phone number after the fantastic work she’d done with our little girl the last time. Now i was going to work.

I stalled her as long as I could while I was supposed to pay her. She didn’t want to seem rude demanding the money. Neither did I. I pretended to check everything while complimenting her. It was easy. Then I started small talk while reaching into my wallet so that she would feel obligated to continue talking after I paid her. I gave her my utmost attention. I seemed interested but forgot the things she said. She even said I was a wonderful listener at one point and I somehow managed to get her to continue.

As the night went further, so did my antics. I became unfaithful and she became ashamed. But we somehow convinced ourselves that we were neither. Even the several separate times after that.

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