My angry bowels

So today i decide to post again. It must have been a few months now. I am coming off a bender and my ears are still ringing from a concert at the Horseshoe - pemenant ear damage.

I feel lost off and on this week - i feel like my personality is dissolving. Like I am on overwashed health club towel - all rough and white with nothing left to really offer - myabe even a little threadbare.

Am I a narcissist?

Each time I do one of these posts someone tells me that I am a narcissist. I guess because I am doing a post about it I must be? Or is it the fact that I have this blog that makes me one. Tell me something, all 3 of you: Are you all not the superstar of your own feature film you call life? Are you not the superhero of your own comic called your idiotic life?

Well I am. Each day I get up, take a shit and strap on my super outfit and go out there and save the day. I leap tall buildings and move faster than a speeding bullet while my invisible entourage of worshippers and fans cheer me on. I can hear them right now inside my head. I can do anything I want at any time - why? Because I am the main event in my life. The big man. The super coolest. The best. I have the biggest dick and the largest brain and shit yeah I am the best looking. Sure some of you may have kids and think - oh you selfish old kidless fuck - you really have no clue. Well I bet your kids do a great job of making you feel like a super star huh? Isn't that why you buy them everything they ever want and wipe their asses and clean up their puke?

So yeah I guess I am a narcissist - Shit someone has to be a fan of me.

How much is the dolly?

Very well then - here is an interesting image. A very firm looking image wouldn't you say? I especially adore the photo inset showing just how supple things are. Can anyone get me a cost on this thing? It would make a great gift for an uncle of mine.

What does the big "F" stand for?

Not unlike yesterday.

Sometimes things seem so simplified. Most of the time things seem simplified. Usually there isn't much to things at all. We just make complications for ourselves. We make everything see so insanely tragic, or over elaborate. I do it too. My wife calls me a narcissist; I think we are all narcissists, but I guess a narcissist would think so.

I look at my hand and the simple act of its motion connected to my thoughts can seem dauntingly complex. The way it moves almost like an animal of its own volition. It creeps me out. I makes me see things I don't normally want to see. How parallel we are to things like snails or slugs - moving along in unconscious method. My hands have a mind of their own. They move when I sleep. The move when I drive. They take a million different positions over the course of a day without me thinking about it.

One day it will all just rot. Things will break down and stop, but until then the simplistic beauty of my ability to move could be taken as a fascination that could consume a lifetime.

I can't focus anymore.

So it's Sunday and my ears smell like mold. I feel like I need to scrub myself with a pumice based soap to help slough off all of the grease and buildup of mess I have collected over the past week. Yes things build up and you need to have them removed. Your eye glasses get grimy and it makes it harder to see if you don't clean them.

I think old people stop washing because they just don't want to think clearly any more. Everyone ignores them so they just let the buildup congeal until they have a thick layer of sense-numbing barrier to keep them safe. I have no idea what all of this means, but I am sure it is important. I notice it ever so slightly when I look in the mirror. I can feel it deep inside me - I am just not as sharp as I used to be. I have to look a little harder at things to make them out. I have to pay a little closer attention. I miss things I normally would not(or never used to miss). Driving takes more concentration. Is this what it means to get on in years? Is this the first stage of me sensing that maybe keeping things clean will not keep me seeing and hearing clearly? I can hardly see without my glasses. I don't go to bars any more.
Fuck.

Bad Poetry

There once was a woman who had an affinity for cats.
She stroked and she pet them in all manner of lust.
Entangled and lost in act and in trust.

Purr little one. Purr little one. Purr.
Backs arching each stroke, teeth gnashing and white.
The woman and feline seductively fight.

Marble eyes roll like planets in space.
They tangle and mingle and bare teeth as to bite.
The coo and they mix in each others delight.

A fishhook. Unexpected but known of.
Things tighten and flex until harm finds its way.
Both animals struggling no longer in play.

Flaring heat and blindness. Taffeta and silk gape, and pull.
Claws tighten and lock in the smallest of seconds.
Time stops until things are soft again.

It's night in my mind all of the time. I can't do anything without turning on a light beforehand. It makes me feel dead inside when the lights are off all of the time. People tell me to trust myself, but I just can't. It terrifies me to think that I might one day have to. The dark can be a good place to be. It can help. But it is still terrifying.

Wow, get a load of me.

Inside things feel different lately. Inside things are changed. I think that maybe i am transforming into something else. I feel lately like I could just change my shape or maybe in a few weeks or so I might wake up one morning and just be a different person. It has nothing to do with me not liking myself - oh not a thing to do with that. I am still the biggest narcissist ever. I still love to look at pictures of myself and rub myself for pleasure. I still love to take long walks down mirrored hallways and pretend that I wear a size 30 waist. I still love to think that all of the 22 year old women pine over me as soon as they lay their eyes on me. As a matter of fact i am sure that all women love me unconditionally - the world is my convenience store and I can pick whatever I want, whenever I need it.

My wife tells me that I am amazing. She tells me that the sun beams out of my anus and that i am a super hero in disguise.

Yeah - I guess I am pretty good. If you don't believe me just ask someone that knows me - they will tell you how amazing I am - as a matter of fact I will just come out and say it - fuck man, am I ever amazing.

Mother do you think they'll drop the bomb?

In the late '70s and early to mid '80s I remember loosing sleep over the end of the world. I remember watching all of those really bad apocalyptic films like Def Con 4 and Solient Green. I was sure everything was going to end at any minute. I would wake up and everyone would be dead and I was going to have to run over their dried out corpses in shopping malls to escape the rabid nuclear fallout maniacs that wanted to eat my sweet flesh.

Well I guess it is about what - 26 years later and we are all still here? There doesn't seem to be any real media attention towards the chance of the world exploding any time soon. We just hear about how we are killing each other - terrorism has replaced Armageddon.

I wonder if everyone worries about the end of the world the way I did in my early teens or if it was just a cultural stage I lived through. I surmise it was the latter because I don't see much hubbub about anything like it any more. There are no double album releases about the toils of war or death by draconian empire and a lout of mutants. It's all just about getting that sweet o'le honey pot and a bag o'cash so you can represent. Or the inner angst of the self and how it tears you apart. I miss the idea of us all getting blown to bits and then slowly dieing from fallout and tainted water. Somehow that notion seemed a little more sophisticated then the fears we see rumiating in this decade.

Radiation makes me horny.

I don't understand much any more. Most mornings I wake up with at least one why going through my head and I guess that is what keeps us going. I find that lately my writing is the only logical thing in the world. I am tired of getting caught up in the status race and loosing perspective on my own motives for doing things.

Whew - this is a heavy one huh?

The photo works for me on so many levels and I don't know why and I can't explain it to you. I was just drawn to it. For some reason it makes me think of radiation. It looks to me like she is basking in the glory of the atomic age.

If I see another GAP window display I think I am going to puke. The cycle of the consumer machine is starting to get to me - even if I still want to buy everything I see. I hate the higher level of it but still want my stuff. Give me MORE stuff. This woman has everything - don't you just know it? and If I am wrong I know one thing - she sure has a great set of tits. Whatever. I can't seem to focus today. I can't seem to get anywhere without looking at something to buy. I would like to see 1000 women standing like this one on the beach of Lake Ontario all at once. Basking in the glory of our filthy society and taking in all of the poison we have made to create things like Zip-Lock bags to take our lunch in. I hate the way we have made this planet, but it still makes me horny.