My Whole Expanse I Cannot See…

Dear Diary,

Today I was so happy. I got to pet an adorable puppy and I adopted a basket of six tabby kittens from the nice lady walking the cute little puppy. Then, the ice-cream man gave me a free ice-cream sammich just because I’m SO nice and Jesus loves nice people, he said. I believe him because mamma tells me Jesus loves me all the time.

Nothing makes me sad, nope. Not ever.

Creation is beautiful, and tedious. Lonely, and exciting.

I wonder if I’ll ever write my novella, my memoirs, something to be remembered.

I wonder if I’ll find my love, my muse, the death of my lonely.

I wonder if I’ll find my calm, my safe, the end of my nervous.

I wonder if I’ll die the way I think I may, slow and blue and quiet-like.

I wonder, and I wonder, then I wonder a little more.

“I’m a dog chasing cars. I wouldn’t know what to do with one if I caught it. You know, I just… do things.” – The Joker

Things that are better than Dune:

• Root canals

• Trache changes

• Getting punched in the face while wearing glasses

• Kitty Jesus

• Pink eye

• Communism (dedicated to Celeste)

• The Anti-Christ

• Stale pretzels

• Being raped by woodland critters

• Spontaneous blindness

So, I’m watching Death Race, and while mindless, it’s really rather entertaining. The fast cars, the violence, the over-the-top death and carnage, it’s fun to watch on some bizarre visceral level. I just saw a guy burn to death in his car, another guy impaled by steel beams through his windshield, neither shocked me. It’s all so overblown, to the point hilarity. I can watch almost any crazy violent movie and remain entirely detached. Rob Zombie’s “films,” however, really bother me, but that’s an exception.

Yet, as entertaining as an insanely violent movie may be, I could never watch a real-world Death Race if such a thing existed. Real-world violence is completely different in my head, completely disturbing. I can’t detach from it.

I don’t think liking fictional violence is unhealthy. It’s only unhealthy when a person can’t tell the difference between reality and fiction.

She’d have left George Bailey so fast his Goddamn fucking head would have spun off. That’s how little she’s willing to take the shakes in her fellow.

The Idiot Mike had a life. Where is it now?

I found it hard
It’s hard to find
Oh well, whatever, nevermind…

Nirvana songs are great because nothing Kurt Cobain ever wrote is particularly straightforward, there’s lots of room for interpretation. He never really told a story word for word, he liked to mix his true ideas with random thoughts or lines of poetry. On a Plain is a good example of this technique. Lately though, I’m really fascinated by Old Age. It’s an outtake song found in two box-sets, With the Lights Out and Sliver: The Best of the Box. The song’s so interesting because it sounds spectacular, but it seems practically incomprehensible. Kurt mumbles his way through it, and google-searching the lyrics doesn’t bring back consistent results. It took some doing, but I think I found a reliable version…

I like listening to it, trying to crack it. To me, it’s a song about a losing battling with addiction, that last fix that can’t ever be the last. I’ve felt that struggle, the idea that this fix will make today feel safe so I can get to tomorrow, then maybe tomorrow I won’t need it.

I think that’s true of liquor, drugs, sex, a lover whispering in your ear, coffee, anything that turns off constant noise. I think life is just series of fixes, all the little things we need today to get to tomorrow. We all have different levels of noise, and how much we can take. Our fixes might not be the same, sometimes they’re ultimately destructive, but a life without fixes breaks. We replace the fixes we lose, try to drop the ones that hurt, that’s how we keep going.