A little late but...

Halloween sucks.

Stupid costumes. Stupid shitty candy.

At least there's no mention of Jesus.

Bless you all.

BOO!

I'm just not feeling it these days. Several months ago, my muse went out for beer and cigarettes and just never came back. Can't say I blame her. I've always lacked discipline, but now I've got the attention span of a kid whose Ritalin was replaced with candy corn.

On that subject, before I forget, trick or treats is nigh approaching and I just could not care any less. Halloween used to be fun. As a kid eating candy, a teenager drinking beer, or a college student dropping acid, Halloween was a good time. Now my own kids get excited at the thought of the coming candy orgy, but it's just a pain in the ass for me. I've got to watch out for predators and poison and drunk drivers. And we can't even make it scary anymore. All it takes is one good old-fashioned, bowel-eliminating scare and I'm up every night for weeks with nightmare traumatized kids. But the real icing on the cupcake is this year's costumes. I will accompany a five-year-old Hannah Montana and a three-year-old Michael Jackson along the parade route. I'll be the embarrassed father with the flashlight/billy club acting as bodyguard to the stars. Sigh.

Cooler than you

I read Kerouac and Ginsberg.

I dream of being a beat poet.

I live in a newly renovated loft apartment.

All my clothes are pre-owned.

My record collection is nothing but original one-off pressings of bands you've never heard of.

My sandals are made from hemp.

My favourite book is Che Guevara's biography.

I only smoke European cigarettes.

The best movies ever made are Soviet underground animation full length features.

I'm a vegan.

I brew my own beer.

I ride a bicycle.

Nothing is cool unless I say it is.

The things you like don't count for shit unless I deem them worthy to be called 'cool'.

I have no label.

I am unique.

the music shop douche

there is no one who irritates me more is the "hipper than thou" music shop douche. a few years ago some one lived in my town who i will refer to as aaron bono (his last name starts with those letters which just begins to show his douchiness). aaron worked in a music store and of course heard of all these bands before they were famous and whenever you went to buy a cd who would go on a rant about it to you.

aaron also had the amazing personal characteristic of being a chronic liar. sometimes people are able to keep up or have some rational behind their lies to make them somewhat plausible and believable. not aaron.

the music store was in the mall but it was the closest thing to an independent music store we have in this town. even though i despised aaron i will admit he kept the store filled with some decent metal albums. the con to this was hoping he wasn't working when you went to buy one of these albums. i admit to waiting sometimes until he went on his lunch break or to the back of the shop so i didn't have to deal with his chronic lying.

i bought a soulfly album from there and he was working. he went on about how max cavalera fired his band mates for showing up fifteen minutes late and how he was a piece of shit. all i wanted to do was listen to the album and not hear a personal critique of what makes a good band leader. this was minor for an aaron bono moment though.

a few weeks later i was in the store wearing a korn shirt and he told me how he jammed with korn when he ran into them before a concert. i asked what instrument he played and he said guitar. aaron did not play the guitar though. a few months earlier i ran into at a house party and he picked up a guitar and said how he wish he knew how to play.

aaron also talked about how he went to ozzfest one time and drank with rob zombie and partied with pantera. this might have happened but knowing aaron, it did not.

the ultimate aaron moment was when i bought a bill hicks cd. he told me that he saw bill hicks perform right before he died in seattle when he did a small tour. time for a little math.

this incident occurred in 2001. bill hicks died in 1994. aaron was a year ahead of me in school and i was 18 when he told me this story so that would make aaron 19 and born in 1982. aaron was such a hipster at the time that he went to the united states and witnessed this comedic legend at a bar when he was maybe 12 years of age. i finally had enough and called him on his bullshit and asked how he saw hicks when he was 12. he paused, started to speak but stuttered and then answered:


"i'm thirty years old".


i asked him how he could be that old when he was only year ahead of me in school and he paused again.


"that's some guy who looks like me".


finally for the grand finale i asked him if he thought it was a coincidence that this guy was named aaron as well.


"i'm not named aaron".


i pointed to his name tag which said aaron and he commented that it was another worker's name tag. he quickly said he had work to do and went to the back of the shop. his co-worker looked at me after he left and was laughing her ass off. apparently she had heard similiar stories from him and was glad that someone finally shut him up.


a few years later i was in a different city for a concert. beforehand my buddy and i were wandering the mall and went into a music store. guess who was working? i said "hello aaron" and he replied "hello" back to me.

"i thought your name wasn't aaron?" i mentioned.

he looked at me with a weird look and went back to work. i guess it's hard keeping your lies straight.

Get out of my head

It's easy enough isn't it?

Just block them out.

Pretend they're not real. They don't exist.

Don't think twice.

They are the other. The outsiders. The unfamiliar.

It's easy to block them out and imagine they are somewhat less than you are.

Faceless. Heartless. Immoral.

Evil and unclean.

Their destruction would be a justified and holy act.

Their continued existence would be an anathema.

Or worst still. They don't even register.

Your radar remains mute.

There is nothing to notice. Nothing more important than yourself.

Other people don't count.

Even those closest to you barely register a blip on your screen.

Other people are outside. They are the other.

No matter how hard you try. You cannot know who they are.

No matter how much they reveal, they will always remain hidden.




Basically. Essentially. When you get down to it.

What I'm trying to say is. In the gayest, most poetic way possible.

No matter how hard you try.

And no matter how much you think you know.

You will never, ever truly know someone.

And they will never, ever truly know you.


Other people will always be removed and apart from what you are.

And that's a large part of what makes life interesting.

them

as i walk down the street i can hear their stares.

what are they staring at me?
why do they keep looking at me?
is it something i am wearing, do i have something on my clothes?
can they see my erection?

anxiety soon takes over and i notice my breathing is irregular. trying to get your breathing back to normal when you consciously recognize it is like trying not to cum when you are about to orgasm. it is possible but us average folk can not control it.

i am able to breathe slowly. for every one breath that makes it through, i choke on three. the lump in my throat gradually shrinks until my breathing is back to normal. my attention now switches to the paranoia of the people passing me by.

i continue to walk and avoid eye contact. if, for a split second my eyes lock with a stranger's eyes, my gaze goes directly to my shoes and i continue to walk.

this continues until i see a gorgeous girl walking towards me. gorgeous meaning that she is a girl i would have the courage to talk to. a smirk forms in the corner of her mouth and my eyes meet hers. being shy i quickly look down to my feet but muster up the courage to look back at her and return the smile. we walk by each other, both smiling but nothing else is said.

i continue to think about her smile while i walk.

after passing me she thinks to herself, "i wonder if he knows i am a lesbian?"