Thursday, March 31, 2016

Cobain did take a big H shot to the main vein and blew his head off as well, just to make sure the job was done well

"You won't believe even in god but the devil worries you." 
 -- Kerouac, Old Angel Midnight

This quote always reminds me of my father because he's a self-described Catholic but only in the sense that he doesn't want to have any real or perceived repercussions from the devil, whatever that is and whatever he means by the quantification of the word 'devil.'  Whenever we get into discussions about this particular business, it's not god, but the devil that worries him, that he actually believes in, that he actually fears in some kind of strange way, and I don't see how one could exist without the other because they are just both so extremely unlikely, sorry Mike!  But I guess I generally rationalize it as something my dad grew up with, indoctrination that my dad sustains although he thinks that sort of thing can only happen to Democrats, he listens to FoxNews, he's the type of guy who never admits someone else could be possibly be right, and I make light out of it now only because he is my dad and he has so many other virtues.

He is so funny, without meaning to be, which is better than me and the reason I brought this up was actually because I think my dad might have passed some of his general, unsubscribed terror onto me, undeservingly, at least I like to think, and it was not in the believing in magical supernatural things, like gods and devils sort of way, or in the FoxNews is interesting sort of way, but I really mean in the staunch pessimistic sort of way, like things are always going to be stacked against me general mentality, and this unnatural affinity for having vivid, horrible nightmares, nightmares that now effectively terrorize me, satirize me, deride me, they keep me up so late! I can only appreciate them in day time hours, when the dark doesn't render me paralyzed in my interest in moving forward or investigating, watched too many horror movies as a kid, they all ended in, beheading or gutting, or something equally disturbing, lured by all of the vices that nowhere kids get hooked on, looked on as the loser in this American story, boring to be included in the national glory of a country that is way more interested in protecting greed than individuality, money over creativity, claiming interest in national security, economics over history, there's an indignity in calling us part of the American citizenry, as if it was anything more than complete ridiculousity.

Chivalry has always been asked for but rarely accepted in the era of feminism, prevent them from speaking for us, trust that whatever they evolved into is not what the early protestors initially subscribed to, I've read their literature, it's like scripture, worse because it's indecipherable, they intentionally make it hard to rifle through, hard to translate into actual words, feminists and god people are hard to understand, comprehend, I've never been able to pretend, that I get it, sick of it, all the people who tell me how I'm supposed to live, give up all your control and just let people exist, resist and maybe you'll actually feel better about yourself, or else, I guess there's also the constipated persistence, the ugly guy you married, and the continued empty lies you might actually conceive a child at fifty going on sixty, pity you didn't put getting a guy before your career when they were still leering at you at young age of thirty-two.  I'm an asshole for telling the truth, for being honest, I guess I've heard this before, chastised for being unethical, while those who wish to make an example, example out of me, they hide behind government titles, entitlements (that is supposed to be unique to my generation), they bide their time appealing to stupid Americans of which there are plenty, try to send me (little me) to the paying machine, please, go after me and you will easily see, I'm worth nothing, nothing at all besides my writing.

I read all the artists and writers that called out to me, like Cobain, his biography, all the attempted suicides, kind of mesmerized me, ride that glorious sentiment, don't try to prevent it, some are not meant to withstand it, I've only been given the bare minimum of talents, and many I've wasted, being wasted, or tasting, sedating with drugs I'd taken from people that would say after the fact that I somehow manipulated them or charmed them just in order to steal from them, I would say 'fuck them', but maybe I did put them in an untenable position, sit with them and they'll probably tell you something similar, like I've been hiding under words.

Prove that I have something to live for, I'll match it with more, sore over those with so much more than me, taking the main vein shot straight for reverie, sever all connection between brain and body with a shot to the vein followed by one to the head, read about it after the fact, me being just a kid when Cobain shot his head off, lost in all the romantic notions, I still understand his solution.

Despite all his fame and success, and writing talents, he called it all in, with that main vein shot of china white heroin, he blew his head clear off, just to make sure the job was done well, sell it all for money and Courtney, short changed him, all the talent and all the shame, same people who ride bitch next to all the big ones, still feel kind of sorry for the poor pathetic ones, the ones who finally found him, but at the same time, got to respect his undying commitment.

I want to say "Josana," but I'll say "Amen" instead.


Saturday, March 19, 2016

They Lost The Best Of Us

"I never conquered, rarely came
  Sixteen just held such better days
Days when I still felt alive
We couldn't wait to get outside"

I think I took it for granted even though in my head I always said, "Never take it for granted, Dumbass!" as I referred to myself, time and again in those early years of deadhead nowhereness, high school presence, because I kind of knew always just how I would turn out, that loser kid with the self-satisfied grin, thinking I was better than all the rest of 'em, because of that grin, that silly charming grin, because of that stupid, solitary kind of ridiculous confidence, almost like arrogance, walking around taller and skinnier and smarter, cheshire manipulative sneaky little smile, the kind that riles, guys and girls alike, strike that charming balance, dalliance, me thinking I'm kind of almost valiant, maybe even brave, saving the black eye pride for a very good little lie, try to conjure up a good story to sweep them all off their feet, and sweet somehow some of them actually believe me!  

And then I face that fifteen seconds of glory, for my stupid little dumpweed story, unsavory in its absolute truth, the ruthless, uncouth acts of those who ride up next to me, sidle in close to me, but unlike me, they strike me, and yet no one else can see, I'm not who they expect me to be, I'm not the one who is guilty, forgive me, please, no one else believes me.  Berate me for being the inexperienced, naive, nowhere kid with the lazy grin, sin of trying to make it being born and bred in the mid 1980s, apologies, we were the babies that were supposed to die before our thirties, from drug addictions, or infectious disease, or the mistakes of entitlements from all the parents who thought their little kiddies were supposed to be fulfillments of their own kind of lost pride, deride me, lie to me, maybe even try to fuck me, but really, I don't care about anything else besides writing. 

Fight me, but do it physically, because anything else is cowardly, it is subtly telling me that you are no match for me, and intellectually, you fall so short of me, I'm absolutely nothing you can match either way, spay the system just to shake me, make it your greatest mission to possibly unnerve me, serve me with all the notices of your stupid intent, sent from the sharks guarding California waters, but bothered once from you to go on the official record, all your simpering, whimpering, cowardly fools, they inevitably fold, sold out for money, cunning little liars you are too stupid to see.

Your witness doesn't want to testify on the record?  Unimaginable!  So tragic that your bottom-feeder, greedy motherfucker doesn't want to put name down on the record, another lecture that I'm such an immature stupid kid, rid me of the corruption and I might actually grow up, or throw up, suck it up, your witness has about the same weak constitution that you do, cannot be a surprise to you, that they're only interested in helping you when they are actually going to prosper.  Go on, lust after them like the fat thugs that you are, bar, if I knew what you were from the start, I never would have studied so hard.

When I was in high school, I was not cool, not yet because even then I was the nowhere kid with the silly grin and the don't care attitude, alluding to all of what was, is, continues to be wrong with the educational system, and I was still masquerading as the somewhere kid, the kid that would live the ordinary life of mediocre college grades, cradle to the grave, saved somehow by entitlements of being white and by that I was supposed to be so happy.  The problem was that even then I was very aware of my cherished youth and how everyone else wanted to rob me, jealous of me, the sentiment of envy, wanted to look through my eyes and be me, seventeen, and even then, not a purpose or direction, not owing anyone a fucking explanation.

I didn't know it at the time but there was a promise too, in being young, like you have all the time in the world, like everything you want to accomplish is still a possibility out there in the great somewhere, being young is like being under a great illusion, like a drug only for you, because it makes you think that time does not actually go by so fast, like instead it will go by slow for just you, special you, but in reality time races by at ungodly speeds and also against all of our stupid, weary half-hearted wishes, our tired don‘t care attitudes, and there will come a time where we must realize that we have to step up and be willing to take on the ambition we don‘t feel, never felt, and do something that either helps us make it or come to grips with the fact that it was never meant for us, but at least it‘s some progress, some forwardness, the sense of some kind of somethingness, better than the nowhereness, the entitlement gone sour, the hour when we were supposed to finally arrive got closed up by global recession in seconds, it wrecked us, but there is no insurance for the experience we lost, and the few of us who made it through those thin threads, well Congratulations! 

"I never conquered, rarely came
Tomorrow holds such better days?
Days when I can still feel alive
When I can't wait to get outside
The world is wide, the time goes by