Most nights you can’t remember why you went out in the first place.
Boredom usually.
Can’t sit in your small room alone.
Brooding.
Gotta get out.
You grab a jacket, a scarf; make your way out into the night.
You stumble around, grasping your flask in your pocket.
Heading towards somewhere, or someone, to pass the time.
To release some passion.
Rip some skin apart.
Yell.
Could be a bar.
Could be a house party.
Could be a girl to fuck.
Could be a few of your closest friends drinking in the park.
A music show.
Something new.
You take the small alleyways where you know no one will bother you.
You sip and stare up through the trees lining the sidewalks at the houses above.
Admiring their lights and how each window is dressed differently.
The night moves forward and you swim in it.
Letting yourself get pulled down, wondering and wandering.
Embracing the freedom given to you during the brief hours you finally have to yourself.
sitting on the train.
I died my hair black last night. I didn’t really know what I was doing. I’m really not even sure if it’s pure black right now. I can see some brown patches in some of the crevices of the part in my hair. I don’t care. I bought some gloves yesterday too. Different colored ones. Now I’m sitting on the train wearing these fucking gloves staring at myself in the opposite window while listening to my music. There is a girl sitting next to me and I saw what song she was listening to on her ipod so I found it on mine and put it on. I nodded a bit with the rhythm and turned my screen towards her to see if she could see it. The train stopped and she got up. I’ll probably never see her again. There are too many people here. I’m going to stand next to the door on the opposite end.
standing on the train.
Sometimes you have to alienate yourself beyond everything you’ve ever known to make a change. How much can one person take. I’m going to cut a hole in my shirt. I’m going to apply for a loan. I’m going to get a credit card. I’m going to buy a helmet and wear it in the subway tomorrow all day while taking notes and drawing what I see. I think I should sleep on the street tonight. I want to be on a billboard. Should I try to define what this is. If I think about expressing art differently and finding what is untapped does that make me an asshole. Am I already a failure. I checked the hair on my chest last night. There is more there than there was a month ago. I have developed a large patch of hair around my bellybutton. One time I trimmed it. Maybe that’s why it’s thicker. I wonder if people are watching as my head beats against the glass of the door. My stop never comes. Maybe I’ll just ride this specific line all day. I’m glad I brought a box of lucky charms in my backpack. I got a girls number at a random party I walked into off the street last week. Someone had opened the gate and I walked in. They came back and asked me who I knew and I said ‘Joe’. They let me go and I went upstairs and ate a lot of pretzels. That made me thirsty. I tapped the first persons back I saw and asked for a cold beverage. A beautiful girl turned around and I ranted about nothing for a while but smiled at the same time. She led me to the fridge and grabbed a picture off of it. The picture was of someone dressed as a bunny rabbit holding a large bottle of liquor. She flipped the picture around and wrote her number on it. I have masturbated to that picture 4.5 times now. I will call her later.
transferring trains.
I think I still have black stains on my neck from last night. I am ahead of the fashion of the world. Do I need sex. Is that really something I want. Is desire naturally supposed to come in waves. I can’t remember how old my father is. I can’t remember what his face looks like. My mother works at Wal-Mart and the only way I can pay my rent is going to focus groups three days a week. I steal cell phones and use them until someone freezes the phone. I am always hungry. I introduce myself as someone else for every new person I meet. I am a walking dinosaur taken from mosquito frozen in tree sap. Jurassic Park. If I just calm down and live existentially I should be ok. Yes. Here I am. On this train with people I don’t know. There are things that smell that I have no control of. I can’t control the speed of the train. I can’t control how many people get off and on. I can’t control anything besides the angle that I’m standing and the song that I’m listening to on my music player. Shit. Ok. Well. Lets just stand here for a while and look at the floor. I’ve seen others do that. It seems no one bothers you when you do that. Fuck. Just gray lines on a floor. Nothing else. My brain won’t handle that right now. That baby is giving me a bad look. I wonder if I casually hit on the girls at work that I could have a three way with one of them. It must happen. Doesn’t that happen in adulthood? Everyone cheats for the sake of their own pleasure? Right? Fuck. I stepped in gum. I should clean my shoes. I should shower. Fuck. Why? For what? What should I do anything for? I think the next stop is mine. I’m going to get off anyways. This train is giving me bad vibes. I can’t stop thinking about her. God I am so predictable. Does my happiness revolve around them? I need to get better at everything I do. Yeah. That will make me happy. I’ll start in two days. I made plans tomorrow. That will make everything better. I wonder if I am matching right now. Should I be thinking that. I’m going to adjust my crotch. Ok. I did it. It was quick. I don’t think anyone was watching.
at work.
Yesterday I had woken up and had paint all over my clothes. I had passed out drunk again on whiskey. My head didn’t hurt but my fingers did. The sky was a pale blue with sparse gray clouds looming overhead. Poking their fingers into my window 10 feet above me. I knew I slept but I didn’t know for how long. My phone device said I had missed 12 calls from someone named ‘Henry’. I didn’t know a Henry. I opened my door to the garden and all the apples were missing. My neighbor left a note asking not to pick any. Who the fuck would do something like that. Why didn’t I appreciate the things around me more. There were people but I couldn’t touch them. They weren’t real. Maybe I wasn’t real. That’s why I couldn’t tell what was happening. I glanced at my phone device again. Somehow it was 4 in the afternoon. I had blown my plans with the girl I had met at the party. She must be wondering what happened. But I can’t remember her name. Or her number. I took a vitamin from a bottle that I bought for 30 dollars to supplement all the nutrients I wasn’t getting in my daily diet. I took them twice a day. I don’t know whether or not they were doing much, but I think they tricked me to believe that they were making me feel better. My shits were much better. I enjoyed them. I wonder if the wall device recorded all of my shows. I bet it did. I have a lot to catch up on so I can communicate better to the people where I work for money. That’s important. I will have something to say. You always have to have something to say. I took a picture of something written on the men’s room the other day.
It read like this:
“Give me a certain situation to thrive in.
Give me a chance.
Why wouldn’t you call me instead of chatting with me through a box.
There are too many wires everywhere.
I’m afraid to leave my comfort zone.
Do you want to go to the store and buy something healthy.
The light through the trees while the smoke exiting the window looks like something from a movie so I feel ‘moved’.
Love makes things confusing.”
Someone who wrote that seems to be going through something emotionally. I’m not sure I can feel anymore so any creative expression seems inspiring to me. There are things I should go do right now but my past experiences lead me to believe that I know the consequences of every situation that I’d put myself in because I will subconsciously act the same way as I had in the past. The church across the street from my house seems inviting at times but the small children and old men dressed up with long beards make it seems like I wouldn’t fit in. It’s like there are corresponding shapes in my brain that tend to come together and then separate into some Tetris like chaos. I want to go to the next level and the music in my head to stop being so loud.
walking home.
Girls I hardly know keep looping their arms through mine when I have my hands in my pocket but then don’t want to see me again. I wonder if I smell. I wonder if my clothes match each other. Maybe the way we smoked cigarettes and kissed wasn’t right enough. I guess I’ll meet another one somewhere else and I can try again. Constant failure seems to scare people into fear. Why am I lonely. Why do I feel alone with so many people around me. How come on some days I feel like anything I say will shred open peoples brains. Do you think acting the same way all the time means anything. I bet there are a million bodies buried underneath the assault in this town. I bet they’re all apathetic. Is apathy something that you can apply to your daily life. I have to go to the bathroom. I think I’ll go buy some candy so the sugar will alter my state of mind. The back of my left pant leg is dragging against the ground and the rainwater is soaking in. People are afraid to get wet. Sometimes I am but right now I’m not. I am feeling dangerous. My leather coat must emit ‘dangerous’ to other people. Or ‘rebellious’. If I took it off and held it in my right arm and ‘popped my collar’ on my polo shirt I would be seen as someone totally different in a one block span of walking. I like life when things happen like that. I will adjust my appearance on what I feel is suitable every block. That should really throw some people through a loop. My grandma always said that expression after she had two drinks of gin and ice at all of our family get tog ethers.
home for a day.
One of my aunts talks to herself at every one of these. She used to do it more but they gave her medication so her lips barely move anymore. I wonder if she is smarter than every person alive and she knows the secret to curing cancer. I’ve known 5 people who have died of cancer this year. I wonder if I have cancer. Shouldn’t they have a cure for it. I like cigarettes, coffee, cocaine, and alcohol. I put them in my body all the time. Sometimes I eat. By the time the end of the night rolls around I will be too wasted to remember anything I did last week. I can’t remember what I did this day 5 weeks ago. Maybe I should be prescribed something. But every other person I ask has the same problem. The more people I talk to the more I think we all have horrible ADD. Everyone’s brains can only focus on one thing at a time. I love technology but I hate it. I want to marry it and then divorce after 3 years because one of it’s ticks finally set me off during dinner and the hair under it’s lip finally pushed me over the edge. I’ll take the dog and go hang gliding in Vancouver.
back to the city.
No one has called me for the past two weeks. I even stole someone a cell phone and told them to call me when it started working and they never called. Every time I open my fridge I expect to find something I actually want to eat. All I find are beers that I drunkenly bought the night before with a note to myself usually scribbled and misunderstood. The only things I can make out are words like ‘inundated’ ‘expressionless lights’ ‘Fuck Einstein”. Sometimes there are horrible drawings of breasts. I have started filing these into a small gray folder hidden underneath the cushion of my chair with 3 vertical lines and two horizontal lines placed near the top and sides. I don’t think anyone would want to open a folder like that. They will probably think its geometry homework. I would anyways. Geometry always fascinated me until I realized that if I pretend to look at my paper while glancing at someone else’s that I could do better on the tests.
eating at home.
The structure. The structure. You can’t escape the structure. How many days should I wait to make the cake for my friend’s birthday. She turned 28 last week. She probably has other people that are more important to her doing things for her. Maybe I should wait until the night before the cake. You can always wait. Wait for me. Wait for the pleasure. They will definitely know that the cake was made in a hastily way. They will understand that they had just met you. There re no expectations, only the gift is the point. But they will know that the cake was made quickly, sloppily. Maybe her understanding what went into your effort will be forgotten but remembered later when the others have left her. That’s the best bet for now. Or you could just send her roses. But the girl I work with got roses from a man that she had just separated from and she got angry. How can I compare what she did to what I’m doing with the things I’m doing. Why should I ever compare anything to anyone or any instance that has already occurred. Shouldn’t I just stumble. Who cares. Ok , I have sprinkles. I’m looking at the sprinkles. Should I use them. They are a lot of them. Maybe I should make like two cupcakes. I don’t even know how to bake. This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. I’m not even going to go to her party. I shouldn’t have drank that flask of whiskey before trying to make any decisions. Things always turn out the same. Maybe I should just not do anything and watch the latest mystery on the television screen. Ok, too much thinking.
at work.
The overwhelming feeling of despair is just there. Anxiety seeping from your ears. Nobody wants to shake hands anymore. I gave a girl a fist pound that I am in love with. I think I am. I was in love with her last week. I want to understand chemicals in my body. What is going on inside. Who are you. Why are you upset. Why are happy. Where does your elation come from. Why do you focus on the negative too much. Why do you play so many games with people and yourself. Nothingness. Meaninglessness. Do you think she’ll call. Do you think this is a good idea. Do you think we’ll ever remain friends after this. How come you never ask me how I am. How come you never want to make an effort in anything you do. Take a step back and figure it out. Small decisions. Small decisions. Small decisions. Why doesn’t anybody think about something they’re doing before they do it. Why do people think too much. She called me blacked out. If you are blacked out and call someone does that mean subconsciously you are in love with them. Blocking out sexual desire for the sake of success. Giving into to sexual desire and forgetting about personal goals. Forgetting about the sake of dreams in accordance to your life. Today I watched a man behind the screen ask me to view 9 numbers over and over again. He was illuminated by the screen and wrote down numbers from it. I sat on the ground cross-legged and drank a coke. We did the same thing over and over for an hour and a half. He has to check his data and I am going home tomorrow. Who am I. What am I trying to achieve if anything. Why am I trying to achieve it. Why do I ask so many questions on things I have no control of. Neurotic tendencies. Silent insanity. I want to fucking achieve something. Why can’t I block out anything else. Why can’t I gain success in anything. I throw things away. You throw things away. Is love and family only important to women. What does everyone want. What is life about. What the fuck is life about. What is life about. What is life about. What is life about. What is life about. What is life about. What is life about. IF you know more than others what’s the difference. If you have more sex than someone what’s the difference. If you create the best piece of fiction ever to fucking hit the shelves what’s the difference. You can relate with others? You can relate with other person? You’re narcissism reflected into another person. That’s what it is. The other person feels left alone. The other person feels human. They feel like they understand what it is to be human. They are constantly in the now and only know what they have seen. If they read something else they can see history. Or something like that. History repeats itself. If you don’t understand history you won’t know what failed and what worked. Cliché, Cliché. What has worked in America? Nothing has worked so far. No one knows what they’re doing. Things are fluctuating constantly. Everyone’s goals are constantly changing. Everyday. How can one person be passionate about one thing their whole lives. Why are people making a decision about something they’ve never done and put them in a large amount of debt. Why are people so worried about money if they’re comfortable already. What do people want deep down. People want to be noticed. People want to be comforted. They want to settle back in childhood. People want to feel the same comfort they had in childhood. People want to find the comfort they didn’t have as a child. People can’t stand that childhood escapes them more everyday. They are running from something that they cannot see. No one knows what they’re doing. If you are confident you win. What is confidence but a large flashlight down a dark cave. The fact hat you’ll take the steps into the dark without knowing what’s there. Being an adventurer. What the fuck am I doing. Where the fuck am I. Is this it, is this it. Is this it. Is this it. This could go on forever. There are days that are more overwhelming than others. There are days where I don’t think about anything in general and am totally content with how my days are going. I could end up yelling for the sake of making noise for fifty years but when I stop the silence is still there. It never leaves and it never will. We are all running from it. We are all afraid of the nothingness.
Whiskey and no sex. Coke and a stoner. A drunk with his misery. Clawing each other. Manic depressive’s. Horrible horrible nights. Spent between white walls, pool tables, low lights, and savages ripping each other apart to feel something. Fucking the night away. Staring at each other naked. No more romance. No more romance. No more romance. She had to leave. You are nothing but a lost puppy dog that can never make up his mind. There’s no point to analyze. Things just happen. Sarcasm. Sarcasm. Alone. It honestly makes sense. Really.
