It's A Weird Life. That's All It Is.
It's a weird life. That's all it is.
More Posts from Mistahsojourner and Others
The President
I’m going to tell you the truth.
Not gonna put sugar or honey on it.
It’s not that I disagree with the President or his policies.
It’s not that he represents everything that is soulless and wrong.
No.
It’s that I fucking despise him.
With everything in me.
I hate him. I don’t give a flying fuck about discourse or listening to or understanding the other side. If you are going to come to me with that, fuck you. I don’t care. We are past that. What has the fucking discourse ever gotten us? What has being respectable gotten us?
You can tell me that I’m wrong in my hate. That’s fine. Maybe you’re concerned with the effect that such intense feeling has on my health. I mean, God bless you if you think that. Let me tell you, it’s hard to carry around, aight?
See. I’m owning the hate. I’m not dressing it up in some pretty three piece suit and calling it something polite. Nah. This is me owning it. It’s ugly. It’s awful but I’m owning it.
I go off sometimes. I fucking lose it. I lose my voice. I get told by people, “Oh. You’re so full of hate. Everybody hates him so much. It’s scary.” What the fuck?! WHAT THE FUCK?! What do you think he’s full of? Love? Hell no. If you are going to put on that stupid red hat, you do not get to play that card. That’s perverse.
A Moment on a Tough Day
You join hands with your sister.
You pray over a sick dog.
At 11 AM, the pledge will be recited
Call the number on your screen to report
anybody who ain’t sufficiently excited
about being free to do what the fuck we tell you
while the red, white and the blue
fly above
and burst your hearts with love
God, guts and glory
goes the story
of a nation that kicked ass and looked good doin’ it
Light from the Lord God spread to the world
by us
Evil and darkness flee
Get your WWIII commemorative pin today
to trigger the snowflakes and the pussies
on your way to church
to hear the padre preach about how Jesus woulda dimed his neighbors out to ICE
cuz it’s the law
If there was anything that Jesus was about, it was the law.
Bless the nightsticks and the guns
Bless the kevlar and the riot shields
Bless the blood in the streets and bless that liquor to forget all that shit
or to get nutted up to lie under oath about it
or to just live here
in the land of the free, the home of the brave
one nation
that got the goods on all of us
Of course, I’ve got no idea what to say. Not a god damn thing. This is just another Monday survived. I knew I was coming into a shit show. I knew all weekend that a potential horror show was waiting for me. I handled it. I held on. That’s all. Tomorrow is another day and there will be another day after that and another day after that and so on until I die.
Yeah. That’s all.
Some days just are. No sugar. No flowers. They just are there to age you.
This is the part of the evening where I listen to Roads by Portishead and stare at the ceiling pensively.
What Happens
What happens is the machine
goes through us
too damn quick
til we got nothin’ but fun size Milky Way wrappers
in a Halloween treat bag.
-
What happens is sometimes you find yourself ponderin’ what hell is.
It’s geographic region.
The shit that goes down there.
Always in the same ZIP code you’re in.
It’s Monday eternally.
That deep, polar bear cold you feel all over your body
never quits
and everything you got to do to eat that day
is gonna kill you.
-
What happens is sometimes you live
and you’re happy enough to (almost) thank god.
Your walk has swagger to it.
Maybe the air that slowly kills you tastes sweeter.
You think maybe it’ll all be okay
till it all wears off like a crack hit.
-
What happens is life.
The world will terrorize the fuck out of you. It does not need your help.
Tuesday
I woke up before my alarm today. Damn. Isn’t that a sentence that just grabs your attention? You want to keep reading, don’t you? You gotta start somewhere. I woke up way before my alarm. I could have gone back to sleep but I decided to just get the hell out of bed. I wanted some extra time to fill up my tank. Having to stop for gas when you’re in a hurry gives me mad anxiety like so many things do. As a result, I end up in the office early. I’m typing away at my thoughts but to the untrained eye, it might look like I’m hard at work at some arcane IT task. People might be thinking, that boy works hard. That boy shows up early. That boy is going places.
Monday was uncharacteristically gentle. The world be fuckin’ with me. The world be slow rollin’ me into a false sense of security and then BAM! I’m asking my doctor if Paxil is right for me. Sometimes things go okay. Sometimes they even go well. I don’t ever trust it. The world always be up to some shit, ya dig?
The world is mundane and strange at the same time. Everybody goes about their business chasing nickels and dimes while the next apocalypse or whatever the fuck happens in slow motion. Life really does just go on.
Sometimes I wonder if somebody is going to stumble across this and recognize me and then it occurs to me that people who kinda sorta know me might read this. The fact of the matter is that some of what I’ve written here is cringe-y. I’m just going to have to live with that.
I look at my LinkedIn profile and that’s my name. I really wrote that stuff on my profile. I don’t really recognize that guy. I hate LinkedIn. It feels strange to say that I hate the corporate world when I barely exist in it really. I’m barely in it. I’m low-level but I think I’m okay being here. I don’t really have too much of a desire to go any higher. It occurs to me that I’m fairly good at playing a role. I’m good at occupying a role satisfactorily. I guess my work persona is that of a semi-techy Mr. Rogers. Pretending. Double-lives. That’s sexy, isn’t it? Or is it? Day dreams about being a spy. Not James Bond shit. More like The Americans. Day dreams about infiltrating some drug operation in 1980s Miami. Modern but still retro reboot of Miami Vice. I’ve watched far too much TV. It’s only recently that I’m realizing just how much that has fucked me up.
Double lives? I wonder what kinda double lives people have here. Not even double lives. Just secrets. Drugs. Freaky sex stuff. Honestly, the only thing that interests me right now is drugs and freaky sex stuff. See. There is TV messing with my mind again. People are people. They are not characters in some shitty prestige TV drama on HBO. Real life is just real life.
I’m not always busy at this job. Sometimes things move slow. I’m always conscious of how busy I look. I always try to look occupied. No matter how slow it gets, you will not catch me playing games on my phone or on my computer. That shit looks bad. I will mutter things to myself that are technical so that it looks like I am chewing on some problem for someone upstairs. The last thing that I need is someone wondering what I’m being paid to do. I also get up and walk around so that people see me. I figure it looks weird if I just sit in my cubicle all day.
I’ve written just over 600 words today. I suppose that’s a good thing but there is very little in the way of insight in any of these words. Of course, I didn’t have a clear objective. I guess what this comes down to is making writing a habit. I want to make writing a habit because it satisfies me. It makes me feel better. I like the effect it has on my mind. There probably never will be a time that I’m not some neurotic mess but maybe I can do something with that.
This song. So god damn much. My god.
Sorry I can’t come to the phone right now
I’m stuck at the precise moment
where I realize
she ain’t comin’ back
when it hits me that it’s gonna be one of those days
where somebody gonna tell you Job had it harder
and that does as much for you
as thoughts and prayers do
when they’re pickin’ up the shell casings
after somebody got done with one of those lives.
Stuck at the exact moment
I realize that maybe what I did
is re-write a shitty U2 song.
Please leave a detailed message after the tone
and maybe I’ll call you back.
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mistahsojourner reblogged this · 9 months ago
