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dir/old_school/rant: F e a r & L o a t h i n g |
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I have a electronic
reminder on my computer that says "What have you not done"
Usually I press a postpone button which makes the reminder come back later. What have you not done? Postpone. It's the face of irony right? What have I not done? Made a difference, put my mark on the world, done as I pleased, found satisfaction or tried to overcome my pains. If I were a good artist, this pseudo autobiographical attempt at writing, would more likely be a poem or novel or some piece of art. But i'm not a good artist...I've given up poetry for ranting because ranting seems more fulfilling, my voice is less constricted to the style of the piece and driven more towards just saying how I feel. Of course on a day like this, I want to comment on how we are a army of zombies and life is pointless, how we are just awash in conspicuous consumerism and life doesn't have the depth it should anymore. We? Maybe just me right? I prefer to think that I am more entertaining in the honesty of my depression, then sad and laughable in the denial of my own pity. What have you not done? What I have not done is bridge the gap between intellect and emotion, sometimes leaving me divided, often times split on who, what and where I am. A few weekends ago two good friends of mine tripped on Acid. Obviously good Acid as they were taken on a trip which makes the words of Hunter S . Thomson more a guide book in traveling the light fantastic, then humorous drug fiction. While they did this, I found myself suddenly the babysitter. It had all the fun and excitement of the "It's heroin, not cocaine" scene with our man John Travolta and Uma Thurman. Much of the time was spent, trying to console, help and drag my pal out of his bad trip, while he begged me to call an ambulance. That was a short conversation, which repeated itself throughout the night, where I intoned the words that still ring in my ears.... On a segue way note, There was alot of bantter about the use of the word Nigga on Quentin Tarantinos film Jackie Brown, it was primarily because the use of the word nigga was used like thirty five in the first half hour and many notes has been made of the negative impact of both the word Nigga and Nigger. Hm.... For some, the words are derogatory, for other, they are ambiguous terms, of endearment and of disdain. In the end they are words. Wait now, don't test the theory of Nigga and Nigger being just words, cause you might get your ass kicked, cause i'll admit they are some mighty powerful words. But the words carry the weight of what a person puts behind them. If you are white or black you might be my nigga, I don't user the word Nigger and the difference is this, with the word Nigga pronounced Ni-guh, it's usually a term of endearment to me, but could also sometimes be used in exasperation. The word Nigger pronounced Nig-ger is a bit different, it is a bad word. Not every black person will agree with me on this one, some will nod and say yes others will say, fuck it, some will say they don't care. The segue way does make a point as in my account of the night though. Cause on that night I used the word nigga all night long, I used it more then Samuel Jackson did in all of his movies where he has said the N word.... And this is how I said it. "Nigga is you a fool? Don't you understand that all across the city on this night, other niggas are in their houses trying to get high like you are? Don't you know all across the world Motherfucka's are trying to get to where you at? Don't you realize that some of them are sniffing it, some of them are smoking it, some injecting it, but they all wanna be with you. See you wanna get high, you wanna be that consenting adult, you wanna keep pushing it till you're not just a little high, no you wanna be as high as possible, with each succession of highness, you wanna feel a little more high. You wanna come across that bend and you wanna see what it's like, but now you see it and you want an ambulance. You want someone to come bring you back? You don't wanna be high no more. Watcha gonna say tomorrow though? Whatcha gonna say when you ain't high no more? And where are you gonna do it, cause I swear to god, if we get an ambulance, it's gonna go down, cause you'll still be tripping and when they strap you down, you'll bleed with the sweat of fear. And when they rush you to the hospital, you'll be blinded by the light of your drug induced confusion and you'll be angry and disoriented, not much more sensible then an animal and you know what they're gonna do to you when you do snap, when no one you know is there to whisper in you're ear, that you're just high and the world isn't melting, no one's out to get you? What they're gonna go is shoot your crazy black ass, cause nobody likes a high as nigga who can't take his drugs. You won't be some thin intellectual white boy, who went over the edge mumbling to himself, you're gonna be a menace to society, you might as well be a pissed off hungry bear in someone's yard. So you don't want no ambulance, you don't want the cops, cause if you do, it's gonna go down.It didn't go down, a nigga heard my words and rode out, four painful fucking hours of drug induced mental and physical panic, coming just short of soiling his pants like a man with no control and quite possibly fucking up his life, in some good degree What have you not done? I'm sure in some ways it must have been liberating. I of course suspect I have unknowingly experienced drugs in a previous life, but never got taken there, while other people are so lucky, to stare in the face of death, most of us sadly just get high, watch a movie and eat junk food and giggle. That motherfucka went with the shamans and indians, what I should have done was drive out somewhere build a bonfire and videotaped it as real life transcendental account of what happens to motherfucka's that do drugs. Postpone Have I skirted around the thought of having a pleasant nervous breakdown for the last six years because I had other stuff to do? Nigga is you a fool? We put off our pain, we do drugs, we trip out, because inside our head, is this guy who constantly reminds of what we have not done. So we postpone doing it, but he doesn't stop talking about it. He just keeps on yammering away and you know what we do? We get high. We get as high as possible and we ride that thin line between being fucked up and maintaining our normal existence in the real world and hope we can ignore his words.Now wait a second. I know some of you are saying, "I don't do drugs...." I know, but you drink right, you smoke a pack a day and two doesn't seem hard on the weekend when sipping that wine right? Wait, you don't smoke either do you? Hm...Well you eat till you vomit, you exercise till you're bone thin or swollen like a cartoon character. Or you pray to your god, until you find yourself praying on Sunday and Monday and wed and Saturday and at home and you know he will provide. Or you just watch TV. This ain't no whining session, this ain't no bitch out, it's me trying to ask myself What have I not done. I haven't faced the truth. That's what I haven't done. I've hoped and prayed I could just John Wayne my way through it. And on a good day that means a good pack of smokes a hot little six shooter, some time with my babe and a sip of good scotch. But i'm not happy. I'm genuinely perplexed. I'm still hearing the voice. I didn't turn the motherfucka on. Is it the haunting voice of someone I knew who wonders why I squander my life away with the material, with the bullshit, is it my mom is it a teacher or a concerned friend. Or is it the real me. Motherfucka's don't want the truth, we don't, we want more cable channels and movies and anything to escape. The sad thing is that we all wanna go to the same place and we're so anxious to get there, that we step on each other, we take from each other, we kill each other, we betray each other. I don't know the answer, but I hear the question. What have you not done and how much longer can you dare postpone it. if one day you wake up with two kids and Sparky the Dog and a minivan and aluminum siding and realize all you wanted to do was weave baskets in Paraguay, what are you gonna do. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying i'm postponing my life, I'm saying it's hard as shit answering the question to some level which satisfies me.I woke up praying today and I don't fucking pray, I'm pissed at God for all sorts of reasons which serve to help me with my own short comings, my own confusion between living my way and his way. I don't know what I was praying to either. I said it was God, but was it just the God in me? Was it just that part of me i'm begging to make it clearer to me???????I don't know. What I do know is this.
Ignore the voice if you want, as far as I can tell it seems easier to do so, but
it's probably more contentment then happiness and if those two words have the
same meaning for you, you're a lucky bastard cause they are two opposites to me.
I write to purge, I write to not cry myself into a headache induced depressing
sleep. I cry cause It's better then putting a bullet in the ass of some sorry
dumb bastard who chose to cut me off. I write because one day I want to write
something that really takes the blackness from me and lays it down on cool white
paper and locks it in. That's why I write....why do you read it though? |