Thursday, January 06, 2005
Drown Tomorrow Out
I'm in a very strange mood right now. It seems to be a reoccurring trend for the last few days.
Yesterday was a re-awakening of sorts. I was overwhelmed with a sense of pieces that fit into place perfectly, and absolutely nothing bad could have happened to me yesterday, other then maybe a car crash. I still have these "you could die in the blink of an eye right now," moments that are plaguing me. I'm not sure how to rid myself of them, but I hope it doesn't turn into a compulsive thought pattern. Unhealthy! But, returning from that parenthetical thought, yesterday really was fantastic. We bought groceries for me so I don't starve, which was seemingly an adventure in itself. I had "cheapy-mc-cheaperson" on one side carrying a basket, and "eat-cheap-crap-and-die" trailing behind me. And I bought mounds of luscious food, namely some Pogo-sticks Corndogs. Oh my god whotta (<- this word is from an Archie comic I read once) splurge. Godzilla promptly tried to kill some of my five-alive later though, by stashing it in the pantry. So...if I buy something in a carton in the refridgerated section that says "keep refridgerated between -4 or 1 degrees" on the outside, and it gets stuck in the pantry ("it was unopened") and the sides of the carton bulge out as it starts the first stage of fermentation or something awful like that, then what? Can I throw your eggs at your car? At you? I love Five Alive Berry almost more then solid food, and you almost wrecked it for me you cold blooded reptile. But that happened this morning, and I was so cheery, that I didn't care that it's now a huge popsicle. We picked up Bento, and had several transportation skirmishes around my house about movies, curfews and whatnot, but once we got underway with the whole thing, it was great.
We watched Goodbye Lenin and Dodgeball, both of which were good, but the former kicked the supreme ass of the latter. It was amazing. I want to buy that movie I think. In a short synopsis that I've been giving repeatedly all day: this guy (looks like Jake Gyllenhaall - spelled horribly wrong) is marching in a protest against the communist officials in East Bloc Germany, and his mother, a devout Communist, sees the whole thing- sees him get arrested- and promptly has a heart attack and goes into a coma for eight months. When she comes out of it, her doctor advises no shocks or surprises, for fear of a repeat event. But, in the eight months (Weeks?) that she's been out, the wall has come down, the west has united with the east, and everyone is now an equal corporate whore in the scheme of things. So, the boy recreates communist Germany for his mother- going painstaking lengths to get post-wall-fall food, singing commiescouts, and old notaries she once knew, as well as generating fake newscasts (she wanted to watch tv) and whatnot. I won't give away the ending, but I completely urge all to see it. Kicking ass good. As for Dodgeball- Vince Vaughn? That's ALL I have to say. He completely rules. I'm getting annoyed with seeing that blond chick though. I know she's part of SNL cast, but fuck she's annoying. But to her credit, this is the best part I've seen her play. And of course, Ben Stiller made my stomach churn with how good he played the gym nazi.
Even WestJet couldn't wreck my day yesterday, though it bothers me that he's rude to Fenton. But I realize that this really stems from his inability to understand what Fenton is really about. And in light of this, he "gives" what he thinks he's "getting" but doesn't understand that Fenton isn't even out to violate WestJet's peace of mind/anything. WestJet (unsurprisingly) is very hardpressed to look further then skin deep with any of his friends ( a fear of finding out the ugly bits of all of us, and consequently, our true bits also, unfortunately) and I have this impression that Fenton presents a huge conundrum to him in this respect, because well- I see amazing smart witty and one of the nicest people I know- but WestJet encounters the teflon that Fenton surrounds that all with. I am a hollowpoint, WestJet is a nerf ball.(Sorry, it was funny) This doubles for his double-standard towards minorities- WestJet sees color and circumstantial statistical evidence. Alcoholism stats, beat your woman stats, financial poverty stats, bad God-hater /heathen/pagan stats = WestJet's general opinion of anyone who happens not to be white. But, not everyone. As if it weren't bad enough to just be racist, WestJet has them in castes: My Boy = Scummy native devil. Mr. Smith's Boy = Hot South American. I see. I honestly could care less, but this returns me to explaining the double standard. "Don't persecute me because I'm gay- but excuse me for hating minorities, mmkay?"
This said, he still is a valuable member of our possey. He's our matron. He clucks, admonishes, herds, chauffers- and I love him for it. I have to admit though, that I am constantly wondering what he really thinks, or knows about me, or assumes to know about me ("guided by assumptions and generalizations alone") or anyone else that is friends with me that he knows. I mean, I hear about them from him, but I always get the impression that someone else is getting the uncensored version of what he really thinks. And just who is that person? Because I'd like to hear the stories, the back stabs (granted, I am no better, by this post alone), the frustrated rants. Truthfully, I'm starting to doubt all of this 'friends with WestJet' thing again. The bottom line is that I want someone to be friends with me because they like me and my company, not because they are afraid of being alone, or because they just need someone. Because I don't seem to need him as much as he needs me.
It used to be that WestJet was someone I could just let loose and be a retard around. But now I realize I can let loose and be a retard around all of my friends. I really don't care. Not to mention, around the rest of the possey, it is perfectly ok to be a complete retard (eg: certain vices such as drinking, smoking, or whatever tickles my vagina) as opposed to hanging around someone who "hates the idea of drinking" but doesn't hesitate to go get drunk with any of his other friends regularly.
It seems sort of odd also, but the best thing for WestJet ever would be for him to know what loneliness is. And I don't mean, "boo hoo I have no man" loneliness, I mean having no one. The most of us have gone through this- not really having someone to turn to- being trapped in that inescapable dark high-walled box at least once in life- WestJet has not, due to a co-dependence born of desperation. But perhaps I'll leave the rest of this to a Dr. Phil show. I feel bad about writing this, but it has been weighing heavily on my mind since one particular event over the holidays which was sort of startling. I suppose also, I'm afraid of what would happen to him if he had no one to take care of him. I worry so much about his health, and he seems completely oblivious to any sort of healthy decisions for his body. Not that I'm one to talk, lol.
Today was great. Thanks Fenton. Thanks Mooke. Everything was beautiful on my walk home tonight. Quiet, empty and coldly clear, and I felt great. It's funny, because things are somewhat foul in my life right now, but I felt like nothing was wrong on my way home tonight. I just forgot all my troubles I suppose, which was nice. Escapist and unpractical I suppose, but still nice.
¶ 3:19 AM
Yesterday was a re-awakening of sorts. I was overwhelmed with a sense of pieces that fit into place perfectly, and absolutely nothing bad could have happened to me yesterday, other then maybe a car crash. I still have these "you could die in the blink of an eye right now," moments that are plaguing me. I'm not sure how to rid myself of them, but I hope it doesn't turn into a compulsive thought pattern. Unhealthy! But, returning from that parenthetical thought, yesterday really was fantastic. We bought groceries for me so I don't starve, which was seemingly an adventure in itself. I had "cheapy-mc-cheaperson" on one side carrying a basket, and "eat-cheap-crap-and-die" trailing behind me. And I bought mounds of luscious food, namely some Pogo-sticks Corndogs. Oh my god whotta (<- this word is from an Archie comic I read once) splurge. Godzilla promptly tried to kill some of my five-alive later though, by stashing it in the pantry. So...if I buy something in a carton in the refridgerated section that says "keep refridgerated between -4 or 1 degrees" on the outside, and it gets stuck in the pantry ("it was unopened") and the sides of the carton bulge out as it starts the first stage of fermentation or something awful like that, then what? Can I throw your eggs at your car? At you? I love Five Alive Berry almost more then solid food, and you almost wrecked it for me you cold blooded reptile. But that happened this morning, and I was so cheery, that I didn't care that it's now a huge popsicle. We picked up Bento, and had several transportation skirmishes around my house about movies, curfews and whatnot, but once we got underway with the whole thing, it was great.
We watched Goodbye Lenin and Dodgeball, both of which were good, but the former kicked the supreme ass of the latter. It was amazing. I want to buy that movie I think. In a short synopsis that I've been giving repeatedly all day: this guy (looks like Jake Gyllenhaall - spelled horribly wrong) is marching in a protest against the communist officials in East Bloc Germany, and his mother, a devout Communist, sees the whole thing- sees him get arrested- and promptly has a heart attack and goes into a coma for eight months. When she comes out of it, her doctor advises no shocks or surprises, for fear of a repeat event. But, in the eight months (Weeks?) that she's been out, the wall has come down, the west has united with the east, and everyone is now an equal corporate whore in the scheme of things. So, the boy recreates communist Germany for his mother- going painstaking lengths to get post-wall-fall food, singing commiescouts, and old notaries she once knew, as well as generating fake newscasts (she wanted to watch tv) and whatnot. I won't give away the ending, but I completely urge all to see it. Kicking ass good. As for Dodgeball- Vince Vaughn? That's ALL I have to say. He completely rules. I'm getting annoyed with seeing that blond chick though. I know she's part of SNL cast, but fuck she's annoying. But to her credit, this is the best part I've seen her play. And of course, Ben Stiller made my stomach churn with how good he played the gym nazi.
Even WestJet couldn't wreck my day yesterday, though it bothers me that he's rude to Fenton. But I realize that this really stems from his inability to understand what Fenton is really about. And in light of this, he "gives" what he thinks he's "getting" but doesn't understand that Fenton isn't even out to violate WestJet's peace of mind/anything. WestJet (unsurprisingly) is very hardpressed to look further then skin deep with any of his friends ( a fear of finding out the ugly bits of all of us, and consequently, our true bits also, unfortunately) and I have this impression that Fenton presents a huge conundrum to him in this respect, because well- I see amazing smart witty and one of the nicest people I know- but WestJet encounters the teflon that Fenton surrounds that all with. I am a hollowpoint, WestJet is a nerf ball.(Sorry, it was funny) This doubles for his double-standard towards minorities- WestJet sees color and circumstantial statistical evidence. Alcoholism stats, beat your woman stats, financial poverty stats, bad God-hater /heathen/pagan stats = WestJet's general opinion of anyone who happens not to be white. But, not everyone. As if it weren't bad enough to just be racist, WestJet has them in castes: My Boy = Scummy native devil. Mr. Smith's Boy = Hot South American. I see. I honestly could care less, but this returns me to explaining the double standard. "Don't persecute me because I'm gay- but excuse me for hating minorities, mmkay?"
This said, he still is a valuable member of our possey. He's our matron. He clucks, admonishes, herds, chauffers- and I love him for it. I have to admit though, that I am constantly wondering what he really thinks, or knows about me, or assumes to know about me ("guided by assumptions and generalizations alone") or anyone else that is friends with me that he knows. I mean, I hear about them from him, but I always get the impression that someone else is getting the uncensored version of what he really thinks. And just who is that person? Because I'd like to hear the stories, the back stabs (granted, I am no better, by this post alone), the frustrated rants. Truthfully, I'm starting to doubt all of this 'friends with WestJet' thing again. The bottom line is that I want someone to be friends with me because they like me and my company, not because they are afraid of being alone, or because they just need someone. Because I don't seem to need him as much as he needs me.
It used to be that WestJet was someone I could just let loose and be a retard around. But now I realize I can let loose and be a retard around all of my friends. I really don't care. Not to mention, around the rest of the possey, it is perfectly ok to be a complete retard (eg: certain vices such as drinking, smoking, or whatever tickles my vagina) as opposed to hanging around someone who "hates the idea of drinking" but doesn't hesitate to go get drunk with any of his other friends regularly.
It seems sort of odd also, but the best thing for WestJet ever would be for him to know what loneliness is. And I don't mean, "boo hoo I have no man" loneliness, I mean having no one. The most of us have gone through this- not really having someone to turn to- being trapped in that inescapable dark high-walled box at least once in life- WestJet has not, due to a co-dependence born of desperation. But perhaps I'll leave the rest of this to a Dr. Phil show. I feel bad about writing this, but it has been weighing heavily on my mind since one particular event over the holidays which was sort of startling. I suppose also, I'm afraid of what would happen to him if he had no one to take care of him. I worry so much about his health, and he seems completely oblivious to any sort of healthy decisions for his body. Not that I'm one to talk, lol.
Today was great. Thanks Fenton. Thanks Mooke. Everything was beautiful on my walk home tonight. Quiet, empty and coldly clear, and I felt great. It's funny, because things are somewhat foul in my life right now, but I felt like nothing was wrong on my way home tonight. I just forgot all my troubles I suppose, which was nice. Escapist and unpractical I suppose, but still nice.
¶ 3:19 AM
