Friends, adversaries, and those who plain just don't give a piss, I wish to thank you all. For many weeks and days I have sat around drinking too much coffee here in soporific, strip mall, Sun Belt malaise, doing a little yard work, getting on the computer from time to time, but ABOVE ALL afraid to contemplate the awful fact that yes, I may just own an ounce of originality. You know, the kind of thinking that one may occasionally engage in during the wee hours of the night. Well, i hereby resolve to take this manic episode and render it a continuum of creative insanity, wary of the consequences but nevertheless unafraid to be labeled fuckin' nuts, all the while mindful that were Van Gogh to be born during the last half-century, he would never have lost that ear of his. They would have him on Haldol, Thorazine, Prolyxin, Prozac, and maybe a little oxy-contin just for sadism's sake. His own sake, I mean.
For too many long, arduous, alienating weeks I have laid about feeling sorry for myself, or contemplated getting the kind of job others attribute to a responsible course of action, acclimatizing themselves to the tedium that has been transformed, in their warped opinion, from a necessity to a virtue. When I turned 40 years old recently, a gnawing, searing sense of inadequacy began to fester in the back of my skull. It was especially pronounced, I noticed, in the company of those retrograde thinkers and their accompanying "conservative" values, whom i was somehow compelled to "admire." Force of habit I guess, and SOCIETY REALLY DOES MAKE ME SICK!
I found myself once again emulating those fatheaded, authoritarian bozos and ultimate ideological traitors as role models! Propelled as it was by a philosophy of inferiority and self-effacement obtained by this author, I was often astonished upon discovering that I felt a need to acquiesce to their stringent requirements of conformity and death-dealing BOREDOM! Who the hell cares how, when or why it was obtained - fom here on that pathetic little habit of trying to fit in at all costs will be mercilessly quashed by a rigorous program of natural-born weirdness!
Be it fucking RESOLVED: I'm gona tear the cyber-joint apart, not be timid about making a goddamn fool of myself, because I don't have to - i HAVE that luxury, I Have the time on my hands, waning as it may be in light of my achieving this point in time. Because "everyone" is so cool, collected, mature, together, with someone now, in the dream relationship that they always prayed or hoped or dreaded would someday come about, and I'm not. Most decidedly not, for various neurotic reasons, but again who the fuck cares about that ol sap opera? This boy-man, notoriously immature and appalingly underfunded is here to stay, blissfully obtuse. Oblivious and immune to the scorn of those mentors who once mentored him to a razor-sharp hatred of this that and the other, to the point where above all he hated himself. To the point where he scoffed at Che's famous maxim "At the risk of sounding ridiculous..."
God or Satan or Elmer Fudd has bequeathed upon me a talent, of this I am sure. The talent of missing the spirit i, in my silliness and naiveté am convinced existed in the hyper-romanticized '60's, the talent of being absolutely bonkers by the reckoning of a society grown so sterile I can TASTE the dead air and it's vicious lack of hope, compassion and a certain I don't know what, the theme song to the Mary Tyler Moore (YEEEEEEECH) show said it best I suppose. Love WAS all around once, far away, but a man who doesn't work a cursed 9-5 is therefore, in the morbid and moribund view of all my sell-out friends from long ago, (another life it seems) unworthy of love, not to say sex, romance and all of that claptrap. I'm talkin about the love deep within an acid trip, the love of a good snowball fight, the love of senseless and sensible abandon.
So go ahead, stick your (their, my) switchblades of sarcasm deep within me, who ain't scared no more to be pigeon-holed as the weenie, the freak, the jerk, the loser, the loner, (I AM PROUDLY ALL THOSE AND MORE, i INSIST) and all the other put downs you (we) use to justify your (my) arrogance and back-stabbing DECEIT. Ooooh we're soooo cynical and sooo cool. Fool.
That's the real reason I wanted your opinion about my writing skills, and whether you have witnessed any improvement therein.
Thanks a bunch,
Dan
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