A Little Too Real

Do you ever feeling like there is no place for you in the world or that you think you know your place, but maybe that really isn’t your place? My cousin recently graduated from the Marines. Horrible pick for employment given the current leader. The point is though that for as long as I can remember anything about him he wanted to be a solider.

From a young age, the last time I happen to even see him, he knew his place in the world. Good or bad choice aside he wanted that and he got it. I don’t have any feelings for him. No sense of lost memories. We could pass each other on the street tomorrow and I’d keep walking, but I feel so happy for him right now. I am happy he has found a place and a place he wants to be. I’m about to turn thirty and I have no place. So sense of purpose in this world. I want to be writer, but I have my doubts.

Growing up all I ever wanted to do was do something in music. Having no talent, no friends to piggy back on, and no aptitude to even learn an instrument I dove into the part I was good at. Writing lyrics became writing poems. Writing poems became telling stories. It took a long time, but that is where I am now. Trying to write stories to find my purpose. At this moment in time I have published nothing, sold nothing, and with every passing day doubt myself and any talent I might have. I don’t even know another writer. Part of the reason I wanted to be a writer is that I could do it on my own. Which is becoming less and less true as time goes on. It takes a village or so I hear, but what does it take if you don’t have one? What am I fighting for if there is no hope of winning?

I have everything I want, well need, I want a lot of shit I don’t need, but writing didn’t get me the things that I wanted. The people around me did. My mom, my wife, my daughter, and the guy who hired me at my current job provided me the opportunities to be where I am today. Lost, but still here. I hope writing pans out. I hope it is my place in this world. Not really sure I have enough time to find another and start working towards that from the ground up. Maybe I am thinking about it too much? My cousin was only a kid when he said he wanted to be a solider and technically he is three months in to his place in life. Five years from now he might not even want to be a solider. I’m fifteen years into mine and all I want to be is a writer. Well a good father, a good husband, and a good son. Sometimes it may feel like we have no place in the world, but all that means is that we aren’t done fighting yet.

Breaking the Fourth Wall

I’m pretty laid back. I don’t express myself much through religion, cults, or anger. I get mad and I might even get offended though it takes a lot to get me there and I don’t remember the last time I was really offended. I told some body I was the other day because she burped near or around my face. I’m not sure that counts towards being offended or just thinking she was an asshole. Coworkers are assholes remember that. Usually though I am the one offending other people. Almost all the time I offend other people to the point that my friends have to signal me or use safe words to calm it down. Is it because I am an asshole?

Maybe, but really it is because I’m not afraid to speak the truth. I’m not afraid to say that something is black when it is black and something is white when it is white. I know that there is gray out there. I get that. I’m not a fan of the gray. It leaves the possibility of too many what ifs. Getting off point, but I’m not sure because I never really have a point in all of this. I’m laid back. Most people tell me any and everything. Helps with character development so I don’t mind. Well I do mind because I hate people, but sometimes out of the hate grows people. For those of you who don’t know that is how babies are made. Unless you were made in a tube. Babies shouldn’t be made in a tube. A gray area topic, but then again most babies shouldn’t have been here in the first place.

I don’t know the whole topic is so touch and go. No one wants to see a baby die including this heartless bastard, but at the same time traffic is getting to be too much. Why do people have to go anywhere any more anyways for anything? Is there such as thing as too many people? Apparently there is and apparently the best way to combat that is to make more because they just won’t stop coming out of vaginas. Have you been to a Babies’r’us, however the fuck you spell it, there are so many babies. Some of them are downright what the fuck drown that thing before it can eat you or worse vote conservative, but then there is always that one baby that is just so cute.

Such a hard choice. To fuck or not to fuck? Being an adult sucks most of the time. Being a kid is so much easier. No one gives a fuck if you mess up. Okay maybe your parents but they aren’t even real people anymore. They are hollowed out shells of who they used to be thanks to you. Yeah you killed your parents. Next time you see them, if you can, look into their eyes. Dead, they are dead. They still talk, breathe, and do shit but not really. They haven’t slept in so long that they don’t even understand the concept. Honestly what is the point? Give death a chance to take you in your sleep? That’s some adult mentality, if I don’t sleep I’m not dead.

Really though they haven’t slept since god knows when because of you. Because being an adult sucks. Speaking of which I should probably go feed my kid. It has been six hours after all and her little arms can’t reach through the bars so well. Maybe I really am an asshole.

Working On a Revolution, Revelation

Where is our Martin Luther King Jr.? All we have are our heroes that are worth millions. Rock stars, actors, and athletes to look up to. We worship people who have already won and not those making a stand. They have tattoos, they have this they have that, they are so counter-culture when in reality they are culture, our culture. They are all bullshit. These people are as bad if not worse than our enemies. Corporate sponsored and packaged to sell. We buy it up like pigs feeding on gruel ready for the slaughter. We look to them, we look to dollars for a change. Have you seen our money? It hasn’t changed in so long, and yet when it tries what do we do? Bitch because they want to take a genocide inducing asshole off the twenty-dollar bill and replace it with dear God a black women. Could you imagine? Honoring someone who risked their life for a chance at freedom for others. A hero by any other name is worthless. We should keep the monster on the twenty dollar bill, it’s more American that way. I’m getting off point here.

We spend so much time latching on to this trivial pop culture bull shit that we fall right inline. Hash tagging stupid shit to let them know that we like their product and spread their word for them. Fucking seriously? Your dumb ass product splashed on to every available space wasn’t enough? Now we have to talk about it for you? Drop your pants and put your genitals in my fucking mouth. No it’s okay I don’t mind the fucking taste, tastes like Coke or Pepsi or whatever other bullshit you are trying to peddle today. Can you imagine the days of the snake oil salesmen? The days where they had to come to your town and trick you into buying their bullshit. Those must have been the days. Now there is so many snake oil salesmen attacking you from all sides that it is hard to even see them for what they are. Coke not only sells carbonated sugar-water, but they have their hands in milk, juice, and water. Soon I imagine they will have all this rolled into one super drink. Looking forward to it because really all the tastes are getting well, a little bland.

Ideas are weapons and don’t be swayed into thinking that they aren’t. Told to fear the man in the dark, but they have all been out of the shadows for decades. Manipulating our every move out in the open. I’m not going to go name everything because honestly who has the fucking time and because it is too late. We don’t waste time crying over spilt milk because it’s already spilt, but we do make sure not to repeat the same mistake again. Or so we say. But really we line them right up to do it again. I want to bash my head into a wall. We need to fear the ones that tell us how to think. The people who say you must not think this way or that. You need to think for yourself. Take in the information and make a decision on whatever the fuck. I know that could take a lot of time, but if we stop hash tagging how much we like a fucking drink we might find some lost time there. Same as if we stop bombing the living hell out of other countries we might have some money for you know education, the elderly, or the starving people in our streets.

Books have no true face, they can’t cast judgement on those who read them though they may try. It is the people at the top locally and globally that cast the first stones. If you need something to fear I am more than happy to be that for you. If you need a devil in your life, I’m not afraid to be that for you. But we need to turn this all around somehow or some way. I know that we can never stop the hate, but maybe if we give up hating each other long enough than we might be able to get somewhere. #gofuckyourself

So It Begins

My mind is a steel trap that holds everything and nothing at the same time. I can’t remember your name, but I can recall every dumb ass thing you did up until this point. A gift or a curse, it is all that I have. A memory for stupid shit that no one seems to care about. Like the time in fifth grade when the kid shit his pants in the back of the class or the time in gym class when the girl got the shuttle cock stuck down her shirt during badminton. Stupidly pulling her tits out to retrieve it as well all stared, or maybe it was genius. Either way she was legend after that. She was noticed and someone, if not everyone, cared. Always remember never forget. Tiny moments that make up a life time. The tiny moments come back to haunt you, but the big ones are always there. Chewing On Glass is about the little ones. When they come back to haunt me that is.

One eyeing it on the way to work sober, sad this is the norm. The emotional drain of doing the same thing every night is called life. Told we could do anything. The lie keeps us from killing ourselves, but don’t be fooled we kill ourselves every day. Risking our lives for a dollar and a day that most of us, the ones that truly need it, will never know called financial independence. But at least on holidays we get time and a half, so that’s something Of course not everyone is so lucky to even receive that. We all belong to a collective noise all saying the same thing, “Follow your dreams.” The dreams keep us going even if they will never come true. What if my dreams are to watch the world burn?

Figuratively of course the smell of burning bodies would get pretty nauseating very quickly and the screams. I don’t even like to hear my neighbors beating the shit out of one another, so I couldn’t even imagine how annoying a thousand plus screaming people would even sound like. All seriousness aside though. I’m not a terrorist, a loose term thrown around for shock value, or a bad person. I just see all this kindling sitting there in our society and I think all it needs is a spark. One tiny flash of light to set the whole thing into an uncontrollable inferno, and I wonder why can’t that be me?

But could one tiny spark really set this all into total chaos? Can words really change everything? Am I prepared for a world left in ashes from the comfort of my office chair? Defiantly wouldn’t be anything to bitch about, and that would suck. I mean could you imagine coming home and having nothing to say? What a waste of a day. Maybe there is a reason that not all dreams come true. There I go again talking myself back into my chains, back into slavery.

Honesty will only get you hated. The world doesn’t want freedom or change they just believe that they do. What they really want is more of the same. More shows about people like them, more stories about people who go through the same shit as them. What they want is to feel as though someone understands what they are going through. When we are all going through the same shit. Over and over and fucking over again. They say that they want one thing, but in truth they want the exact opposite of that because the human race is too stupid to realize what they want. I don’t even know what I want.

I fit right into the puzzle and it makes me sick. I hate myself for it. like a good whore it is only after I’m done that it dawns on me. That I am as much of the problem as everyone around me. Mob mentality doesn’t leave room for dreams. Only hands to keep you tethered to the ground.