I love how our society labels those who don’t conform to its standards of "normal". I’m not "antisocial". In fact, lets remove that word from our lexicon altogether. The fact is I’ve simply transcended man’s need for social interaction. You might say I’m meta-human.
I know I’m destined to spend the rest of my life cooking 10-1 patties. I stand by the grill, resigned to my meaty fate. Although I work a crummy blue-collar job I don’t consider myself a working class everyman. Everywoman maybe but I’ll talk about that later.
Drive thru order #41. Congratulations on your purchase of a heart attack. I give the customer a receipt which he proceeds to deposit into the Ronald Mcdonald charity box. People don’t even deserve to be called people.
We’re allowed to wear whatever we want to work for Halloween. Finally a chance to scare my coworkers by getting my goth on. Speaking of which, do you know what band is secretly goth? The Pixies. I mean they released their first record on a goth label, they write songs about vampires, death, and bleeding, and their lead singer is named Francis Black.
I blamed video games for getting me into drugs. Drugs had been a constant theme in the games I grew up with from the mushrooms in Super Mario Brothers to the marijuana plants in Resident Evil. The true test of a game was whether it was good on drugs. As I listened to the Quake 2 theme I could make out minute sonic details I’d never noticed before.
Quake 2 was techno goth to Quake’s medieval goth. I once had a short-lived career as a terrible Quake 2 mapper. I was to Quake 2 mapping what George Fiffy is to Doom mapping, which is to say a horrible embarrassment who deserves to be euthanized for the good of humanity. I couldn’t manipulate a brush to save my life. A 4-year-old playing with duplo blocks probably could’ve created better architecture than me.
My dad still didn’t know that his son was a drag queen. I was saving that little surprise for the next time I was pissed off at him. As for telling my coworkers about my transvestism I just hadn’t gotten around to it yet. I would’ve worn my dress to work for Halloween except I didn’t want to get grease on it.
When I saw the outside world it was through two dirty panes of glass; first my glasses and then my bedroom window. I watched as the Concord skyline swallowed up the setting sun like a dark shroud. A shroud of mystery obscuring that which my imagination dared not contemplate.
I missed Lauren. She was one of the few people I could talk to without feeling like I’d prostituted myself afterwards. It had been forever since we’d done tek and watched movies together. It was this I lamented as I journeyed deeper and deeper into the heart of lonely.
I looked out the window. The world looked drab and dull as though someone had switched reality into software mode. I could no longer enjoy my happys. Every time I should’ve been happy I was overcome with a paralyzing fear that something terrible was about to happen. Paradoxically I was most content when I was miserable.
It was a windy day. I watched the autumn leaves dance across the road. Another long bleak winter would soon be upon us. I wished I could spend the winter in hibernation like the noble creatures of the wood.
It felt like I was going through drug withdrawals. Well, minus the panic attacks. Ghosts of regret haunted my days and lingered long in my dreams. I knew no colors, only melancholy shades of lonely. I missed Justin and Brannen and the other 2 or 3 people my superiority complex still allowed me to talk to.
I was listening to In Utero by Nirvana. When the most upbeat song on an album is called "Rape Me" you know you’re in for a bumpy ride. I didn’t care much about Kurt Cobain’s tortured soul, but then wasn’t that what Nirvana’s songs were all about; fighting for your right to remain apathetic? The "MTV and the media totally raped us" part of the Nirvana concert video didn’t have much effect on me. The echoing voices were kind of trippy while stoned but that was about it.
As a child I’d spend rainy afternoons like this looking out my bedroom window. Looking through it now the scenery was the same but the view had changed. Was there such a thing as pot withdrawals? I missed listening to my favorite cds stoned. I remembered when I could lose myself in a guitar solo. It was this sonic bliss that I longed to feel once more.
Brannen doesn’t want our friendship to be based on drugs anymore. To quote Dolemite, bitch are you for real? We’ve been stoner friends for like a year and now you want to be real friends? First of all, you don’t level jump on a friendship like that. Second of all, you’d have to do something about your constant one-upmanship and geekier-than-thou elitism.
There’s a girl I like. Her smile holds the key to untold ecstasies of delicate serenity. She’s beautiful, intelligent, but most importantly she’s Christian. Maybe I’ll ask her out to the upcoming concert by Christian rap/rock group Praise Against The Machine.
The singer dove off the stage and crowd surfed in a sort of reverse funeral procession where the person being carried is the only one truly alive. Touching him I felt religious ecstasy and started speaking in tongues and requesting songs that didn't exist.
There's no easy way to put this, so I'll tell it like it is. Bouillon is died. He went missing before the weekend and yesterday I found his skeletonized remains at the bottom of the #3 soup vat during one of my swims. I thought the cream of mushroom soup had an especially nourishing taste, and a lot more clumps of fur and skin than usual.
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