i'm having dreams of Canton. Nightmares, really, about corn fields and driving and people i know but dont remember and being scared.
(shite from last weekend.)
That was the worst weekend ever. Or, the most disappointing atleast.
Friday S tells metells mewere going to a party in North Pekin at Bobs house. Bob is the guy that went to Fantasy Land with us et al a bit ago.
Because of that trip, hes convinced Im gay. He tells everyone Im gay. He fucks with S about me being gay. He does this all behind my back.
Fuck Bob.
I agreed (submitted) and we went. The thing started at 8, we get there at nine. I was thinking that Id just be able to go and hang out in a corner, talking to only a couple of people, but mostly keeping myself to myself. When we get there theres only four people; Bob, Bobs wife, Bobs friend, and Bobs friends girlfriend.
Oh, and Bob and his wifes kid.
My weekend goes downhill from here.
The dudes girlfriend is wearing a white muscle-tee which sports the motto Dont Mess With The South. Im guessing the motto wasnt the big selling point, Im thinking the big selling point was the fact that the words created a confederate flag.
All shiney like.
Shes reading People Magazine and I cant decide if shes trying to be ironic or not.
Her boyfriend had a few teeth missing, along with a tongue ringdunno which came first. His nipples and eye brow were pierced. And either he was wearing a studded belt with his chain wallet, or his Prince Albert was dinging off his trousers.
He works at the same place as Bob and Sam, so the three of them launch into a half-an-hour conversation about work woes, while Im left sitting on the couch with the hillbilly and mom-of the year, and no matter how much I try no to, I cant help but feel like one of the girls.
Mom-Of-The-Year: within the first ten minutes she was screaming Get Yr Ass Back In Bed! to her five yr old kidlike proper white trash.
When the group went outside to rev up their engines to see whose was louder I decided to distance myself from em. When everyone retired back in the house I told S that Id prefer to stay outside.
And do what?
Play with the dog.
You hate dogs.
Its a nice night.
Youll get lonely, cmon, lets go.
Id be just as lonely in there, atleast with the dog I dont have to smile and nod and act interested and contribute to whatever shit these people talk about.
These people?
Fuck off, dudego do yr little social thing, Ill be fine.
You dont have to talk
Ill feel like I have to, you know, why else come?
To play with a dog, obviously.
Ill be fine. Go on in, dont want Bob to think Im fucking ya.
Call me when you get bored.
Im bored.
Wanna go?
Nah, go ahead and do yr social thing, chief.
k.
Heres the thing1-4 people in a group is cool. Just a few people hanging out, talking, whateverIm cool with that. Its more intimate, theres not too many personalities to juggle.
5-11 people sucks. Too many personalities, and at some point the group mentality starts. It gets kinda loud and chaotic.
12+ people is nice. There are enough people for the big group to break off into smaller groups, so theres no big interruptions, no one trying to be the centre, trying to talk over people. It feels more autonomous.
So, with six people Im hanging out outside. Talking to a dog. I make some calls, but no one answers.
Fuckit.
At 11pm I call S and have him take me back to my car, so as I can do the building I have to do on Fridays. I tell him Ill be back at 12:30, he says he should be back by then. 12:30 rolls around and I swing back by Samshes no there. I call him, tell him Im at the house, he says hell be there inna minute. While I wait I burn off the mix for Katwhatever, planning to give it to her Saturday.
Shortly after the mix is burnt I find out that Ss hard drive was somehow wipedsix months of hard work fucking gone. Shit that I can never reproduce, gone. Original, one of a kind stuff, gone forever. Hemmingway comes to mind.
130 I get a call and find out that my Saturday plans are fucked.
I go home, get high, go to sleep.
I wake up at 4pm and get up. 4 is about 5 hours less than I need, but any later and I wouldnt be able to get up at 11amthe time I need to get up to be at work on Sunday.
I go over to Ss and we jack around while he fixes his truck and all the confidence Ive accumulated drains away. When I finally get a chance to give Katwhatever the mix I just feel like a dorky-ass tool.
Its too frustrating to go into much detail, but I think its sufficiently fucked with herif theres no word by Friday Ill be good and satisfied.
But Ill still be pissed at Sammy. Probably more so over timecockblocker.
So Clint comes by and we have a Halo 2 tournament2 on 2, five rounds. Were only able to play four complete games, and S and I only win one.
The fifth game we started, I left halfway thru it because it was nearly five and I needed to get to bed, but when I left we were being beaten 38-16.
S told me Saturday that he was able to pull out the win, 42-50.
Sunday I skanked my knee again. Same knee. Motherfucker.
Half the shit didnt click, the other half just fell the fuck apart. Its just so fucking disappointing, you know? Frustrating. More and more I can see why people snap and drive their cars into oncoming traffic. Im not saying Im gonna do it, I can just see why people do. Its not anger or depression, its frustration. Im not saying I wanna die, Im just saying that if I was told I had 24 hours to live I wouldnt argue. If I woke up dead tomorrow, I wouldnt complain. Thats all Im saying.
It feels like Im spinning my tires. I feel fucking lost, usually I can see my next move, but I cant. So, whatever.
Im tired of being disappointed. My expectations are low enough; I cant drop them anymore, yet I was consistently disappointed this weekend. How the fuck did that happen?
I dont ask for much, really, just no to be disappointed. I dont want fast cars and models and fame and riches, I just dont wanna be disappointed, damnit. And not the small disappointments, either. The everyday type, like the movie sucking or the showing being sold out, or the rock show sucking or arguing with someone.
Im not even talking about the moderate disappointments like a fender bender or food poisoning.
Im talking about six months of shit gone because some jackasses who cant keep their shit straight. Or feeling like the only one who cares. Or having friends that respect me enough no to cockblock, to not go against their word, not to fuck with my stuff, and not to talk shit behind my back. To care enough to step back and ask, Would I care if someone did this to me?
I really dont ask for much, often, and I dont even see why Id have to ask for this, but I do. And, anyway, I can get the fame and riches and stuff on my own.
Its frustrating to know you have the talent to do something, but lack the means.
Boop.
(shite from last weekend.)
That was the worst weekend ever. Or, the most disappointing atleast.
Friday S tells metells mewere going to a party in North Pekin at Bobs house. Bob is the guy that went to Fantasy Land with us et al a bit ago.
Because of that trip, hes convinced Im gay. He tells everyone Im gay. He fucks with S about me being gay. He does this all behind my back.
Fuck Bob.
I agreed (submitted) and we went. The thing started at 8, we get there at nine. I was thinking that Id just be able to go and hang out in a corner, talking to only a couple of people, but mostly keeping myself to myself. When we get there theres only four people; Bob, Bobs wife, Bobs friend, and Bobs friends girlfriend.
Oh, and Bob and his wifes kid.
My weekend goes downhill from here.
The dudes girlfriend is wearing a white muscle-tee which sports the motto Dont Mess With The South. Im guessing the motto wasnt the big selling point, Im thinking the big selling point was the fact that the words created a confederate flag.
All shiney like.
Shes reading People Magazine and I cant decide if shes trying to be ironic or not.
Her boyfriend had a few teeth missing, along with a tongue ringdunno which came first. His nipples and eye brow were pierced. And either he was wearing a studded belt with his chain wallet, or his Prince Albert was dinging off his trousers.
He works at the same place as Bob and Sam, so the three of them launch into a half-an-hour conversation about work woes, while Im left sitting on the couch with the hillbilly and mom-of the year, and no matter how much I try no to, I cant help but feel like one of the girls.
Mom-Of-The-Year: within the first ten minutes she was screaming Get Yr Ass Back In Bed! to her five yr old kidlike proper white trash.
When the group went outside to rev up their engines to see whose was louder I decided to distance myself from em. When everyone retired back in the house I told S that Id prefer to stay outside.
And do what?
Play with the dog.
You hate dogs.
Its a nice night.
Youll get lonely, cmon, lets go.
Id be just as lonely in there, atleast with the dog I dont have to smile and nod and act interested and contribute to whatever shit these people talk about.
These people?
Fuck off, dudego do yr little social thing, Ill be fine.
You dont have to talk
Ill feel like I have to, you know, why else come?
To play with a dog, obviously.
Ill be fine. Go on in, dont want Bob to think Im fucking ya.
Call me when you get bored.
Im bored.
Wanna go?
Nah, go ahead and do yr social thing, chief.
k.
Heres the thing1-4 people in a group is cool. Just a few people hanging out, talking, whateverIm cool with that. Its more intimate, theres not too many personalities to juggle.
5-11 people sucks. Too many personalities, and at some point the group mentality starts. It gets kinda loud and chaotic.
12+ people is nice. There are enough people for the big group to break off into smaller groups, so theres no big interruptions, no one trying to be the centre, trying to talk over people. It feels more autonomous.
So, with six people Im hanging out outside. Talking to a dog. I make some calls, but no one answers.
Fuckit.
At 11pm I call S and have him take me back to my car, so as I can do the building I have to do on Fridays. I tell him Ill be back at 12:30, he says he should be back by then. 12:30 rolls around and I swing back by Samshes no there. I call him, tell him Im at the house, he says hell be there inna minute. While I wait I burn off the mix for Katwhatever, planning to give it to her Saturday.
Shortly after the mix is burnt I find out that Ss hard drive was somehow wipedsix months of hard work fucking gone. Shit that I can never reproduce, gone. Original, one of a kind stuff, gone forever. Hemmingway comes to mind.
130 I get a call and find out that my Saturday plans are fucked.
I go home, get high, go to sleep.
I wake up at 4pm and get up. 4 is about 5 hours less than I need, but any later and I wouldnt be able to get up at 11amthe time I need to get up to be at work on Sunday.
I go over to Ss and we jack around while he fixes his truck and all the confidence Ive accumulated drains away. When I finally get a chance to give Katwhatever the mix I just feel like a dorky-ass tool.
Its too frustrating to go into much detail, but I think its sufficiently fucked with herif theres no word by Friday Ill be good and satisfied.
But Ill still be pissed at Sammy. Probably more so over timecockblocker.
So Clint comes by and we have a Halo 2 tournament2 on 2, five rounds. Were only able to play four complete games, and S and I only win one.
The fifth game we started, I left halfway thru it because it was nearly five and I needed to get to bed, but when I left we were being beaten 38-16.
S told me Saturday that he was able to pull out the win, 42-50.
Sunday I skanked my knee again. Same knee. Motherfucker.
Half the shit didnt click, the other half just fell the fuck apart. Its just so fucking disappointing, you know? Frustrating. More and more I can see why people snap and drive their cars into oncoming traffic. Im not saying Im gonna do it, I can just see why people do. Its not anger or depression, its frustration. Im not saying I wanna die, Im just saying that if I was told I had 24 hours to live I wouldnt argue. If I woke up dead tomorrow, I wouldnt complain. Thats all Im saying.
It feels like Im spinning my tires. I feel fucking lost, usually I can see my next move, but I cant. So, whatever.
Im tired of being disappointed. My expectations are low enough; I cant drop them anymore, yet I was consistently disappointed this weekend. How the fuck did that happen?
I dont ask for much, really, just no to be disappointed. I dont want fast cars and models and fame and riches, I just dont wanna be disappointed, damnit. And not the small disappointments, either. The everyday type, like the movie sucking or the showing being sold out, or the rock show sucking or arguing with someone.
Im not even talking about the moderate disappointments like a fender bender or food poisoning.
Im talking about six months of shit gone because some jackasses who cant keep their shit straight. Or feeling like the only one who cares. Or having friends that respect me enough no to cockblock, to not go against their word, not to fuck with my stuff, and not to talk shit behind my back. To care enough to step back and ask, Would I care if someone did this to me?
I really dont ask for much, often, and I dont even see why Id have to ask for this, but I do. And, anyway, I can get the fame and riches and stuff on my own.
Its frustrating to know you have the talent to do something, but lack the means.
Boop.
i'll tell what the fuck is going on, i have been consistanly rejected for like the last...i don't know, it feels like a dozen, people that i've hit on. desperation is the world worst parfume.
"Im tired of being disappointed. My expectations are low enough; I cant drop them anymore, yet I was consistently disappointed this weekend. How the fuck did that happen?"
I feel you buddy... me too thats all i'm saying, we should pool our collective loathing