A Black Feather, A poison pen... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- futilty is the devil's truest dilemma got into one of those fun little religion debates the other day, sombody talking about the end of the world and the usual armageddon bullshit i managed to bring up one point to quell the argument for at least awhile, it was an easy answer too. from tbe hypothetical position of the devil, i argued "why should i start a fight when the outcome was slanted in my opponent's favor before it ever even started and everybody knows it because it's been public knowledge for ages?" just as the other end of the argument was getting ready to try and interrupt me i went on: "if god existed and everything written about what god knows and is capable of is true, than it means that this was all just a sick game and that everbody, devil included, was just a pawn or a patsy... a mark in a con, in short we've all been played for fools"
8:15 PM, broken bits of memoryyou know all of these little episodes of late just seem to bear out why i despise myself more than anyone or anything else, to be honest first person i find who has me genuinely believing she gives a good-goddamn, and in all of the paranoia conditioned into me after all of the cute little misadventures i've had, i manage to go and fuck everything up. True there have been at least some little justifications, little threads of commonality linking the present to the little echoes of my past that i've been trying to contend with, but i know my own capacity to be bullshit and overreact and since i can't figure anything else out to solve the problem, it's easier to just assume that whether or not i know why or how, at the very least it's quicker to blame myself. it takes the guesswork out of things: (Let's start from the beginning -- again -- a little history -- and i'm sorry, yes, i know i've beaten this subject matter into the ground, but it's the same ground i've been buried in so many times that i can't help but dwell on it as deeply as it has stained me) Someone starts treating me like i'm beneath notice after i tell her i love her even after we've been friends for years - hmm, why? instead of torturing myself looking for answers that no one will ever give, i go for the easy answer: because i guess i AM beneath notice (i mean, hey, come on, your best friend suddenly dropping you like a bad habit must surely be a signal of some inherently deep congenital fuck-up) i stopped blaming myself for what happened with Tania, the bulk of what went wrong, that was her ex-fianc�'s doing and the miscarriage was just Murphy running in like johnny-on-the-fucking-spot to put the icing on that cake fall for another of my friends (who was witness to and always said how cold it was of our other friend to act the way she did) only to be told when i confess my feelings that i've just been keeping a seat warm for someone else the whole time fall for the girl who's been fucking me in between disasters --i know this one was my fault because she warned me not to and never ever said it back when i did, so this one at least i know why-- as well as brokering my (ahem) services to her handpicked clientele refuse an involvement upon her departure with another member of my more criminally-oriented clique because while it might have appealed to me once, all it represented at the time was being an essentially nameless and ultimately expendable entry on what was frequently referred to in our circles as her cock-roster, a position which identified its occupants as a horse in a stable, an entree on a menu, the meat du jour, if you will ( i don't mention her as much as the others because my relationship with her was the distilled essence of the "love/hate" relationship - we could go from wishing each other dead to finding ourselves uncontrollably attracted to each other in the space it time to play a game or two of pool and then go back to hating each other as soon as we could finish a cigarette - the main reason i don't mention her too often is because she's the only woman i've ever hit, and it took her pointing a loaded gun at my face to provoke even that...truth is, from what i did know of her, i loved her, even though she made it clear that neither i nor anyone else meant anything to her at all from there, a move in the completely opposite direction from that one and spend two years "dating" a not-quite-totally-out lesbian (i knew, she knew, not too many others knew, but having me around made for a good man-deterrent, so i knew i had a purpose at least) -- this wasn't bad, but ultimately not really a great idea either and for not being much more than a great big pretense, there were more than a few moments where little hang-ups that happened between us that i've always felt resulted from her taking advantage of what had been my unwillingness to argue or make a fuss about things, but on the upshot, for some reason, being seen with her when we went out magnified whatever bizarre unnatural appeal i seemed to possess in the first place, so even while my relationship with her was chaste enough, i didn't lack for physical contact, which, over time, made me realize how hypocritical and stupid of me it had been of me to refuse the previous offer and that caused me no end of angst then i go and fall in love with the really charming girl dating one of my friends and i keep it a secret until after i dissolve my friendship with him from being sick of seeing him behave as if she was merely his plaything, only to have her betray me once and then have her spend the rest of the relationship (and i use that term loosely, in retrospect) treating me like the whipping-boy for the offenses of my former friend and the fuckwad she ditched me for who in turn ditched her after their affair produced an unwanted side-effect which he refused any responsibility for (and even more offensive still was knowing that before we got involved with each other, and before asshole #2, she actually gave my shit-head pal a second chance, which by my reckoning is really two more than she ever gave me) --- and to think, colossal fucking idiot that i am, i was actually afraid she'd think poorly of me if she knew too much about my past, so unless she asked questions i actually kept those cards mostly close to my vest, not realizing she thought pretty poorly of me from the word "go" but wait, this cavalcade of dumbassedness, this retrospective of my retardation continues for my next trick, i ended up falling under the spell of a generically flirty and uncommonly gorgeous co-worker, not realizing until far too late that all of her flirtation and flattery were just a means to an end, and the day i admitted what was on my mind an in my heart, i was promptly filed right back into that little cardboard box marked "beneath notice" again and then there's now, and i know that the vast majority (95% if i had to give it a number) of what has gone wrong is my fault, and i would hope that at the very least, the one i love might understand how and why sometimes i fall into these fears and how over time they have turned what was just simple shyness into an almost perfect social phobia, with a heaping teaspoon of rather acidic defensiveness thrown in on top of it whenever something gives me the impression i'm about to take another impact. Now playing, Lost Highway soundtrack track 11 (interlude - Pete and the anti-Renee in the headlights on the desert floor by the stilt-house) 10:38 a.m. - 2002-12-28 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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