Went to Coney Island today for its wonderful ghostly desolation in winter. After a walk on the boardwalk we went over to Mermaid avenue to go to the Carolina, one of our favorite restaurants. Its like a time warp to 1952, the kind of italian family restaurant thats been there for generations, where the elderly gentleman who owns the place comes out to check on you and ask how you're enjoying your meal.
Unfortunately the Carolina was gone and there was a cheap chinese buffet in the space. It had been about 3 months; I guess a lot can happen in a few months. It was cold so we just went in and ate there anyway. Now I'm feeling sick, I probably should not have gone for the fried pepper squid.
I guess soon the Cyclone and the freak show will be replaced with some kind of disneyland bullshit.
Normally my attitude is that I don't have time for being depressed, its a choice and I choose to be positive and tough. I refuse to self-indulgently wallow in my own sniveling, etc. etc.
Now this crappy food sitting in my gut making me ill seems like a symbol of everything that is bringing me down and I'm down in it in a dark and shitty mood, I feel like I'll never be happy again, life is a cruel joke, all that. I'll spare you the details, just the normal kind of problems that happen when human beings get involved. Never mind all the positive things I have going for me, I really don't care. The business efforts I've made in the past year are paying off, I know a lot about some obscure technical crap, right on. I can spend all my time sitting at a computer making money, I'm getting out of debt. Its just not doing it for me at the moment. I play guitar in a band that plays its guts out and has something to say, something that speaks to the guts, blood, piss shit & come in all of us. Too bad that went out of style. I actually do feel terrible for not appreciating that. Ok, I'm acknowledging that thats a good thing, but I feel like a cloistered monk spending his little hovel of time in the dark ages preserving knowledge and experience that no one gives a good goddam about.
Kids come to the shows and really respond to it, though. That does make me happy. I want to show them what its like to be fully alive, to allow expansion of their awareness into whatever areas they are most afraid of, to capitulate into blissful energizing where the space between skin and bones is coursing with golden light.
Right now I'm feeling extremely selfish. Normally I listen to other people and help them, solve their problems, support them in whatever way they need until I'm all empty inside, do all the work and carry them on my back; thats what I do at work, in my personal life, in my art... it doesn't feel right to start bitching to someone about my problems. Why should they care? They all seem to have plenty of problems of their own, no way they're going to want to listen to me, and my problems are not anything they're going to understand, anyway.
Well fuck that. I'll throw it all out there, if you think I'm a self-indulgent, whiny bastard, well, you're right. Go away. I challenge everyone to be a true friend to me and listen, to offer me something I can use, to help me find the flavor in life again, because somehow it all got sucked away. I'm finally at a point where I don't give a damn. Oh I'll go onstage tomorrow and play my guts out, I'll wrench up this stuff and it will be grotesque and beautiful, and I hope it inspires someone to do or be something that springs from their true will. I'm a meat machine that does that in my best moments.
I'm going beat myself up and lay back at my worst, like this, in a self-pitying, joyless, nasty mood, and answer pleas for my good stuff with a pathetically mumbled "fuck you." I need someone to blow my mind, to show me why I even bother in the first place. Fuck me like you are re-animating a corpse. I have nothing to offer you except some pepper squid that I can't seem to get rid of no matter how many times I stick my fingers down my throat.
Unfortunately the Carolina was gone and there was a cheap chinese buffet in the space. It had been about 3 months; I guess a lot can happen in a few months. It was cold so we just went in and ate there anyway. Now I'm feeling sick, I probably should not have gone for the fried pepper squid.
I guess soon the Cyclone and the freak show will be replaced with some kind of disneyland bullshit.
Normally my attitude is that I don't have time for being depressed, its a choice and I choose to be positive and tough. I refuse to self-indulgently wallow in my own sniveling, etc. etc.
Now this crappy food sitting in my gut making me ill seems like a symbol of everything that is bringing me down and I'm down in it in a dark and shitty mood, I feel like I'll never be happy again, life is a cruel joke, all that. I'll spare you the details, just the normal kind of problems that happen when human beings get involved. Never mind all the positive things I have going for me, I really don't care. The business efforts I've made in the past year are paying off, I know a lot about some obscure technical crap, right on. I can spend all my time sitting at a computer making money, I'm getting out of debt. Its just not doing it for me at the moment. I play guitar in a band that plays its guts out and has something to say, something that speaks to the guts, blood, piss shit & come in all of us. Too bad that went out of style. I actually do feel terrible for not appreciating that. Ok, I'm acknowledging that thats a good thing, but I feel like a cloistered monk spending his little hovel of time in the dark ages preserving knowledge and experience that no one gives a good goddam about.
Kids come to the shows and really respond to it, though. That does make me happy. I want to show them what its like to be fully alive, to allow expansion of their awareness into whatever areas they are most afraid of, to capitulate into blissful energizing where the space between skin and bones is coursing with golden light.
Right now I'm feeling extremely selfish. Normally I listen to other people and help them, solve their problems, support them in whatever way they need until I'm all empty inside, do all the work and carry them on my back; thats what I do at work, in my personal life, in my art... it doesn't feel right to start bitching to someone about my problems. Why should they care? They all seem to have plenty of problems of their own, no way they're going to want to listen to me, and my problems are not anything they're going to understand, anyway.
Well fuck that. I'll throw it all out there, if you think I'm a self-indulgent, whiny bastard, well, you're right. Go away. I challenge everyone to be a true friend to me and listen, to offer me something I can use, to help me find the flavor in life again, because somehow it all got sucked away. I'm finally at a point where I don't give a damn. Oh I'll go onstage tomorrow and play my guts out, I'll wrench up this stuff and it will be grotesque and beautiful, and I hope it inspires someone to do or be something that springs from their true will. I'm a meat machine that does that in my best moments.
I'm going beat myself up and lay back at my worst, like this, in a self-pitying, joyless, nasty mood, and answer pleas for my good stuff with a pathetically mumbled "fuck you." I need someone to blow my mind, to show me why I even bother in the first place. Fuck me like you are re-animating a corpse. I have nothing to offer you except some pepper squid that I can't seem to get rid of no matter how many times I stick my fingers down my throat.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
jordan:
i love you. always know that. i'm really sorry 
charlemagne:
It's OK to wallow once in a while. However, in the end, the only two people whose opinions you have to worry about are the person in the mirror and the one who's chosen to share a life with the guy in the mirror. The rest of us? Just like you band's audience, flashing faces in the strobe of life.