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I'm not trying to make a difference today. There's no point anyhow, but thats a different story.
I'm not trying because today, today is my day off. I feel like shit, which should leave you screaming for joy. The first and most obvious reason is because quite frankly, I'm hungover. No throbbing headache, which is good, I simply feel sick to my stomach. It takes something like this to remind me why I don't drink. It's bad for you, it feels bad. But that can't be helped now. It's times like this when I wish my dad got hangovers, because I know how bad they feel. I don't know how my two friends got up in the morning and started drinking again. It was fucking disgusting. The Sugar Plum had this big fucking can of something called ‘Mongoose', and it stank like hell this morning. Well, first of all, I had to leave my tent, because the Pudding Dude was snoring so fucking loud he could have been related to me. I mean, I nudged him all through the night when he got bad, and he'd roll over and st op for a while then start right the fuck up again, so I finally said the hell with it and went to sleep on the picnic table. Had to shuffle around some bottles on the table, but it was a decent nights sleep. It always is on the picnic table. During that time, I had the thought... is this it? Is this actually my life? It's hard to explain. It didn't help I was half crocked on cranberry lemonade and cinnimon whisky. Fuck. And again I say, fuck! So yeah, I'm laying there, I fall asleep. The Donut King had come and gone, and he left a bag of candy. I knew I would have been sick if I ate it, so I just slept on it. It's upstairs waiting for me when I'm ready... if I'm ever ready. Fuck! he said for the third time. So okay, after a meaningless visit with the park rangers as they awakened me from an alcoholic doze, I eventually awakened. I didn't feel that bad, just sort of tired and wanted to be out of there. The thing I'm sort of getting at, through this sad sad storytime is that I had a fuck of a week. I did not enjoy it at all. It wasn't that it was hard, but more trying than anything. Every day I went out to look for a job, and every day my parents bitched at me more and more, and every day more nothing happened. It was terrible and redundant. No job, no prospects, no friends I can really hang out with and make it all go away. The terrible thing is, as I've told a marverlously cute icq girl is that all I want... all I feel I need... the thing that would make me whole, basically... is a hug. One real, honest, feeling, meaningful hug would help a lot. And here's something, too. I have enough friends, I have a girl I've been seeing who I won't call a girlfriend because she won't call me a boyfriend, but still... here I am whining. And as I've also said, it only gets worse too. Monday, terrible Monday, I start a job I didn't apply for, that my fucking mommy got me. Now that feels terrible. That is the extra toe in the kick in the balls. Thats the extra broken rib in the beating. The extra 5% alcohol in the whisky. The job? In a warehouse which my brother is manager or supervisor or head of or fucking something. A warehouse. Working 3:30 to midnight. And this weekend, well... I just wanted to get away from that. I don't want to start at that job, I want to work at a job I earned myself... I want to be a busboy again. Is that too much to ask? A hug and a busboy job? I'd settle for working at a drama camp, or being a waiter... but that's such a dream job for me. I really, truly loved my job. I can't believe they took it away from me. But yes, it's gone. And in it's place, sweaty labour for a giant conglomorate that supports slave labour in the Phillipines. Fuck. This really kicks my ass. And when I got back today, tired... defeated... just plain gruesome, in fact... I showered, and called that girl that would be my girlfriend. She went out til the wee hours last night as well. I told her of my adventure in a condensed readers digest version, and let her ring on the full version of hers, because I like hearing her talk. I like when she does a lot of things. But anyway, when I told her about the job she just sort of said, ‘I'm never going to see you again!' and that was it. I was like, well yeah... and was going to allude to a movie tonight (she says I'm too indecisive, so that would have been a treat) but I considered her condition, the fact that she works today and well, and my luck I guess. So I'm both angry and depressed at the same time now. I'd go hang out with someone, but then what? We'd just sit around anyway, making me think of the near future and dread it. I could use someone taking my mind off it all. I could use a hug too, but I mean, how likely is that? Last night The Donut King, Sugar Plum, Pudding Dude and I came to a drunken conclusion. Girls? They want 3 things. Cack (thats the word we've been using for cock lately, I don't know why. Just say it out loud, it's funny), Money and I forget what the last thing was. And I came to a conclusion of my own. I don't have either of those. I'm no hot piece of ass, I have no money... so there. I guess I'm screwed, huh? But maybe not. I mean, there has been interest in me, however little it has been there. Maybe girls think I've got a giant horsedick hiding in my trousers, I don't know. But maybe not. Maybe... fuck, maybe there is something more. Granted, there are a lot of girls just like that. *Just* like that. Those are the ones the Pudding Dude wants/gets, so I'll leave them to him, I guess. It's not like I have a choice. So here's the thing... am I completely retarded? I sat there listening to them, talking about pussy pussy pussy... and I don't know... I didn't completely agree with it. I mean, sure, aethetics are nice... especially if you can't get anything else. I mean, beggars can't be choosers... but there's more, somewhere. This week I looked over a whack of my scribblings from back in grade 11. It was insane. I was so sweet, I was so in love. And I looked at myself and said, Shit guy... what's going on?! I mean, I like the person I am enough now, as much then if not more... but having that extra puzzle piece... having that love inside you... that adds a lot to life. I couldn't believe it, the Sugar Plum, who just celebrated the landmark of a one year relationship... he was talking about suicide and how his life sucks. He said it himself... he *said* it... he said he's in love. I just shook my head and drank my drink. What could I say, really? Then he spouted off about cack and money. Again, I shake my head and drink. I guess thats how I got so tanked. Fuck, I wish I knew what I was trying to say here. I guess I've talked about a few things so far... not too many in any detail though. I'm just trying to sort out my head and take my mind off the hangover that's fading away as I type here. I'm also killing time until someone on my icq list comes online and I get to chat her up. I guess... I guess you have to find beauty whereever you can, and not squeeze it up in your hands... but try to resist and let it be. Be it that one perfect sentance that just hits you right in the chest... be it seeing a cute couple holding hands walking down the street... be it the way the morning sun glints off a can of Mongoose... you have to find it where you can, or one day it'll just be all gone. I don't want that, do you? The Sugar Plum was talking about suicide, and all I could think about was the little things. Hearing a song you haven't heard in a long time came up big on that list. Just hearing one of those songs that brings you back to a certain place and time... I have a lot of those. Even dumb songs... remember that ‘Got you where I want you' song by the Flys, or some shit? Yeah, on that one I remember driving back home Halloween night from Port Dover with a beautiful girl in the front seat, staring out at the darkness as I tried to absorb whatever it was that made her that way into me. With the old ‘Glycerine' by Bush, I remember smashing Doug's old bike helmet into a thousand pieces in his pitch black room with the Pudding Dude. Songs are funny that way. Sort of timeless. When I hear, ‘Wish you were here' it brings me back to the bar, washing glasses while an ex-employee belted out the words, without his shirt, carrying on like a madman. Excuse me, but I just want to list a few more. Just for me. It makes me feel a little better. There's ‘Johnny' by the Violent Femmes, which I remember laying beside Rebecca (whom I too often refer to as the evil-ex) naked, just listening. I also remember the time we were just laying there in the same state, and I farted really loud and we just burst out laughing because it was so unexpected and stupid. We loved toilet humour. We were actually really suited for each other. People said we were the match made in hell, because well... we were too evil to be made in heaven, right? Oh God, what I wouldn't give for those days again sometimes... this being one of those ‘sometimes' I mean the really good times... like the night she said ‘I love you', and I made her repeat it because I swore I had just imagined it. Or even the time I had to go over to her place to swim, because her father pretty much ordered it. He tried to make me wear his shorts that day I remember, and he had a big green zit-like creature growing on his nose. Wow. I feel a lot better now. I guess I just have to try to remember that memorable things happen every day. Positive or negative... it's nothing I can help unless I adjust how I look at things. It still makes me very angry that I was cheated on, but lately I've been able to distinguish between events with her. I've finally been able to separate the good from the bad. And you know... thank God for that!
The end, for this weekend. But you know, now I'm kind of curious about other people and their music memories... you know, I wouldn't shoot you in the ass if you sent me one or two. And look, I'll post other peoples writings, like if they have no time to keep their own web page, but would like to see something up. Not a problem to me. The bitchier, the better.
take_this_job_and_shove_it@yahoo.com
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