the notches in your spine

I didn’t really see this coming. Or maybe I did, but it was one of those things that just moved so slowly you could almost convince yourself it was standing still.

Either way, the more I write on here the more isolated I feel. It’s not like I’m blaming anyone for lack of feedback or interest. No. I just. I don’t need to be a part of this anymore. I don’t need to tell you everything. I don’t even need to tell you anything.

Maybe one day people will just ask.

It used to be like that, you know.

Once upon a time where you couldn’t map out every wonderful misadventure and every dainty brain-scar onto a pixelboard, tag it like cattle and shoot it off so effortlessly into the ever-moderated but mercilessly muted stream of the Web. Once upon a time people had mysteries. And you had to get to know them to know about them.

It also has to do with where I am in life; which is, in general, that I still feel completely and utterly unheard by every being on the planet. If I speak, you don’t listen. And if you listen, you don’t understand. And if you understand, you don’t act. Around around around we go, where it stops, nobody knows. The gravitational pull, the core, is all personal issues. Like I said, I’m not blaming anyone. I’m not sorry for keeping this log at all. But, God, it didn’t help like I thought it might. It never does.

It’s bizarre for me to see how I’ve changed over this course of this brief web-record. Two hundred and fifty three posts, all of which meant something to me. It’s been eleven months. But I need to do some stuff now.

I need to get back into art, into photography. I need to push forward. I need to read Walt Whitman again. I need to give meditating another shot. I need to work on myself. I need to go back.

I need to tell my mom I love her more.  

I’m happy, and I’m sad, and I’m just looking at everything right now. Everything has changed. I changed everything. And I realized that I don’t even post the most important parts of myself on this blog, for fear of having certain people read it, for fear of judgement, for fear of being boring or paranoid. And what’s the point in that?

There is none.

But I’m okay with that, those things I’ve kept for myself. Those will be the stories and the secrets that I keep and build off of and feed and water. 

I’ve broken contact with people I loved. I’ve met and melted with people I love even more. And I’ve floated around and scraped against the rocks of reality with people I absolutely adore. I’ve gotten somewhere. It’s just not here. And this just isn’t what I want anymore. 

I don’t mean for this to be a serious thing, a breakup. None of you really even care to the extent of which I feel about it. I know that. Most of you will accidentally overlook this post altogether. I know. It’s okay. I’m used to it. And I’m used to feeling when others do not. I’m used to being effected while my own presence is a barely whispered breeze. It’s okay. It’s okay. It just means something to me, that’s all. Another chapter. That’s all.

You can’t feel this like I feel this. I know. I know.

I had fun watching you. The Internet is a really disgusting place, though, it turns all of us into one big ball of wax with one big open mouth, talking sloppy and slow. Just spitting out the same joke. Saying everything in unison. And here we can hide ourselves, and here we can expose everyone else. It’s neither good nor bad; it’s just a tool, and, well, you see how we use it.

You be the judge.

Anyway, anyway, I stray. Have fun. I had some fun, after all. I did. I liked showing you pictures. Okay. I’m going to bed now. I have school tomorrow. And then what? You don’t know. That will just have to be enough for you, that I walk away and fade out, that I go to sleep and no one knows if I ever wake up.

If I know you on not-tumblr websites, it will be easier, of course. It’s unreasonable to think I’m disappearing from the online community. But this is a lesson for me. If you want to know me, work for it. If you want to hear a story, ask me to tell you one. I have some mysteries to build. I have some time slots I need to open up, and fill with things that can heal me.

Okay now. Goodnight.

Thank you.

I had to call in sick from work yesterday with a virus of some sort that was causing me to puke up entire villages. So when I went in today, we were behind on like everything. So it was a brutal shift, and I got home at 10:30.

SIGH

All that’s on TV right now are commercials for hair loss and erectile dysfunction.

Some might even say erectile loss and hair dysfunction.

My mom made cake, which means I’m eating it right now. My cat is sleeping behind me, and she’s making weird hiccuping noises. (Paranoid Parrot: WHAT IF SHE CAN’T BREATHE AND IS DYING?) I’m sure it’s fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine.

I’m going to have a surprise for you soon, my lovelies, just you wait and see.

JUST YOU WAIT AND SEE.

Brendan and I are no longer friends.

He’s a complete and utter douchebag, and everyone’s been trying to tell me that for years. But I convinced myself otherwise. I looked over his impenetrable pigheadedness, his constant (completely unfounded) narcissism, his massively abrasive lisp— I looked over the fact that over the years he just whines and complains and causes me stress and makes me feel like shit, I gave him the benefit of the doubt after all those times he ditched me and made me feel stupid and sad and embarrassed to know him.

Well fuck you, Brendan.

You understand nothing of life and even less of living.

I concerned myself so often with making you not feel like the dick you are. I gave you only the best advice, I tried to act excited over every little stupid accomplishment you took pride in, I even lied more than once in order to back you up. Because I just wanted to be a good friend. But the longer I knew you, the more I realized you were just this severely infected limb I needed to amputate before it died and took the rest of my body along with it.

What kind of a man breaks up with his girlfriend and immediately starts calling her a whore and a bitch to her face AND behind her back? What, because she didn’t like you? Seriously? That was my first clue that I really didn’t need to know you at all.

And what kind of a decent friend REFUSES to do something in order to make another friend happy, if he’s not 100% completely interested in it? Brendan, have you ever made any sort of sacrifice for a friend in your ENTIRE LIFE? It has to be all about you, doesn’t it?

God.

This is both frustrating and entirely too liberating.

Tornado weather.

It’s funny, he pointed out how long I’d known him vs. how long I’d known Zena… and honestly, Zena has taught me countless things about myself and everything around me in the fairly short time we’ve been close, and she’s one of the coolest, most real people I’ve ever met.

Meanwhile, I’ve learned NOTHING from Brendan. He just made me mad, or upset. And he’s seriously not cool, and he’s seriously not real. He lives in his head, where he’s this fantastic photographer guru, where he’s actually doing something in his life. In his imagination, where he’s actually interesting and deep. But he’s none of those things at all. I wish(ed) he was. But he’s just in denial. And that’s the worst.

A grown-ass man, living with his parents (who give him a regular undeserved allowance) joining the Air Force because he’s not good at anything and doesn’t know what else to do with his life, wasting away in the blandness and creative-void that is his soul. Constantly complaining about being single and cramped, when he won’t even get out there and try to do anything.

He just lives in the narrow scope of his vision, and he’ll die there, too.

It’s sad.

But at least I won’t have to be there to see it all go down.

Last night we stopped at a gas station so I could pee, and I opened the door and dramatically tumbled halfway out of the vehicle, tangled in the seatbelt I had forgotten to take off.

People noticed.

Then I slowly, calmly, silently sat back up and shut the car door.
I look at Zena, who is zoned out. Of course she missed the whole thing.

“Zena, let’s find another gas station.”
“What?”
“Just drive.”

This is probably the best microwavable pizza to ever grace my microwave, my hands, my mouth, my stomaaaaaacccccchhhhhhhhhkkkkkkkkk.

Not to be dramatic or anything.

Speaking of dramatic. I am watching Degrassi.

But I am far too distracted to multitask, so now I must make a decision.

Pizza and trashy Canadian teen dramas win.

GOODNIGHT.

Also, tonight was a night I really really deserved.

Thumbsup.

I have a big problem with video chatting. With webcams. All of it. 

IT FREAKS ME OUT.

1. My computer SHOULD NEVER BE ABLE TO SEE ME. That’s just wrong. And then I just get paranoid it can see me when my webcam isn’t on. And sometimes I go online looking like shit, or not wearing pants. Soooo. Not cool. Plus that means the government can watch me.

2. It’s super weird to see yourself AS you are talking to another person. It’s the WEIRDEST, in fact. Like you’re not really you, you’re just this person… watching a conversation between you and someo— okay, #2 is just me being crazy. Still, it’s valid.

3. Just because.

BUT SOME PEOPLE JUST INSIST.

So fine, THEY can be on webcam all they want. 

BUT FUCK YOU, I’M PUTTING A T-SHIRT OVER MY CAMERA.

Tattoos.

I’m getting them. Eventually.

I want antlers tattooed on me somewhere. I find antlers very aesthetically pleasing, and deer are my favorite animals. I have a real connection to them. And I still like the lemniscate (infinity symbol) idea, fuck all the other people who have ‘em.

If/when I get my next piercing, it will be a tongue piercing. Woo!

(Still completely uninterested in poking even one hole in my ear. That’s so boring.)

Alchemy is going to happen in about a month, yay!

I’ll be camping with Zena for three days, having a blast and making art and meeting some really cool and offbeat people. I will DEFINITELY have pictures to show for that!

OH YEAH, I FINISHED MY FIRST WEEK OF SCHOOL.

Apparently people like me now all of the sudden, idk. Everyone wants to know me and be my friend. IRONIC, this happens as SOON as I decide idgaf what people think about me and I am not really interested in making friends willy nilly. Some may say I’m getting hard to impress. I don’t know if that’s true or not.

Either way, school’s alright. I dress a little bit odd sometimes.

But that’s half the fun.

Work is still shit, though. We have two new employees. I really want to have a job in commercial cleaning. Vacuuming offices at night or something. Mild manual labor, minimal human contact. My kind of job.

NOW I JUST HAVE TO FIND ONE AND SECURE IT.

SHUT THE FUCK UP AND LET THEM BUILD THE MOSQUE.

Be grateful no one’s building a fucking McDonald’s over it. Now pull your head out of your ignorant, racist, intolerant ass and listen to the facts:

Not all Muslims are terrorists, you twat. Hardly any are at all. That’s like saying all Catholic priests are pedophiles. Anyone can skew a religion for their own dark devices, and most times people who cause massive chaos don’t do it because of their religion, they do it because they’re FUCKING CRAZY.

“I lost family in 9/11 and the reason for that is because of a few crazy people who came from that religion. And that makes me uncomfortable.”

How about I kick your teeth down your throat and out of your ass, will that be more comfortable? This is you trying to be honest and polite, I get it, but you’re still a moron. You’re still assuming the worst in people, you’re still stereotyping to a terrible degree and implying that Muslim = terrorist.

You’re also not seeing the POINT of it all: TOLERANCE. If there were more TOLERANCE in the world, 9/11 wouldn’t have even happened, you jackass, so by being against this project, you’re essentially just helping to retrograde us into those batshitcrazy cavemen who blow each other up for fun. Your dead family would be so proud!

You also forget that those Muslims who will be worshipping, peacefully, near ground zero are also AMERICANS. JUST LIKE YOU. They might even be in the MILITARY. Some of their OWN loved ones might have lost their lives in the Twin Towers. Did you even consider that? Do you really think this whole idea is just to SPITE you?

Imagine being a devoted Muslim, and then suddenly your entire religion gets a bad name because some psychos hurt a lot of people. And everyone looks at you different, and they keep an eye on you every time you go into an airport, and America doesn’t trust you anymore. Even though it’s your home and you love it. And you didn’t do anything wrong, but you’re still SORRY. Sorry enough that you think of a great idea: Let’s build a mosque where we can show the world what REAL Muslims are like. That we’re not terrorists, but people, and Americans. That we love God and each other and we would never do anything to cause destruction. Let’s bring tolerance back into the world.

Why do you think this is a bad idea?

If it makes you feel less butthurt, it’s actually also an Islamic cultural center they’re building. To educate people like you, like everyone else. And it’s not even ON ground zero. It’s near it. And you know what else is near ground zero? A Catholic church, down the street. It’s not like this is the only place of worship in the area. So calm the fuck down and think about it like a rational person, for five seconds. It will do you some good.

I FEEL LIKE I’VE MISSED EVERYTHING.

There’s so much to cover from the last three or four days, it’s just impossible. Basically, the concert was really awesome. The Birthday Massacre performed with Otep and a bunch of hard metal bands, so there was MUCH thrashing and pounding and moshing. And I was very into it, into the moment.

Last night, Zena and I were driving through Mississippi to a hotel in Alabama, and we saw a beach. So, even though it was 10PM, there was thunder and lightning, we were in unknown territory, and we were fully clothed, we ran into the wet sand and water and played around for an hour, and sat there and watched what we could see of the ocean, and marvel at the baby jellyfish that would get washed up next to us and turn bright neon green every time the tide touched them.

That was really awesome.

Needless to say there’s enough sand left in her car to make a few dozen sandcastles with.

I don’t even know what else to cover. We had to get a tire replaced in Houston, there was this dude with mad facial tattoos in Louisiana, and… so many Squeeze Pops… bah, I’m exhausted just remembering all of it.

Anyway, IT WAS SUPER FUN.

I DIDN’T MISS ANYONE OR ANYTHING. Just kidding. Well. No I’m not. Somehow I appreciate Georgia— and Snellville and Atlanta—- more now, but at the same time,  I wasn’t ready for the trip to be over. Being away was very liberating. Hopefully next time I’ll be somewhere more northern, and not constantly suffering from a pre-determined time crunch.

STILL.

GOOD TIMES.