Can Dogs Walk Backwards?
I love how our society labels those who donít conform to its standards of "normal". Iím not "antisocial". In fact, lets remove that word from our lexicon altogether. The fact is Iíve simply transcended manís need for social interaction. You might say Iím meta-human.
I know Iím destined to spend the rest of my life cooking 10-1 patties. I stand by the grill, resigned to my meaty fate. Although I work a crummy blue-collar job I donít consider myself a working class everyman. Everywoman maybe but Iíll talk about that later.
Drive thru order #41. Congratulations on your purchase of a heart attack. I give the customer a receipt which he proceeds to deposit into the Ronald Mcdonald charity box. People donít even deserve to be called people.
Weíre allowed to wear whatever we want to work for Halloween. Finally a chance to scare my coworkers by getting my goth on. Speaking of which, do you know what band is secretly goth? The Pixies. I mean they released their first record on a goth label, they write songs about vampires, death, and bleeding, and their lead singer is named Francis Black.
I blamed video games for getting me into drugs. Drugs had been a constant theme in the games I grew up with from the mushrooms in Super Mario Brothers to the marijuana plants in Resident Evil. The true test of a game was whether it was good on drugs. As I listened to the Quake 2 theme I could make out minute sonic details Iíd never noticed before.
Quake 2 was techno goth to Quakeís medieval goth. I once had a short-lived career as a terrible Quake 2 mapper. I was to Quake 2 mapping what George Fiffy is to Doom mapping, which is to say a horrible embarrassment who deserves to be euthanized for the good of humanity. I couldnít manipulate a brush to save my life. A 4-year-old playing with duplo blocks probably couldíve created better architecture than me.
My dad still didnít know that his son was a drag queen. I was saving that little surprise for the next time I was pissed off at him. As for telling my coworkers about my transvestism I just hadnít gotten around to it yet. I wouldíve worn my dress to work for Halloween except I didnít want to get grease on it.
When I saw the outside world it was through two dirty panes of glass; first my glasses and then my bedroom window. I watched as the Concord skyline swallowed up the setting sun like a dark shroud. A shroud of mystery obscuring that which my imagination dared not contemplate.
I missed Lauren. She was one of the few people I could talk to without feeling like Iíd prostituted myself afterwards. It had been forever since weíd done tek and watched movies together. It was this I lamented as I journeyed deeper and deeper into the heart of lonely.
I looked out the window. The world looked drab and dull as though someone had switched reality into software mode. I could no longer enjoy my happys. Every time I shouldíve been happy I was overcome with a paralyzing fear that something terrible was about to happen. Paradoxically I was most content when I was miserable.
It was a windy day. I watched the autumn leaves dance across the road. Another long bleak winter would soon be upon us. I wished I could spend the winter in hibernation like the noble creatures of the wood.
It felt like I was going through drug withdrawals. Well, minus the panic attacks. Ghosts of regret haunted my days and lingered long in my dreams. I knew no colors, only melancholy shades of lonely. I missed Justin and Brannen and the other 2 or 3 people my superiority complex still allowed me to talk to.
I was listening to In Utero by Nirvana. When the most upbeat song on an album is called "Rape Me" you know youíre in for a bumpy ride. I didnít care much about Kurt Cobainís tortured soul, but then wasnít that what Nirvanaís songs were all about; fighting for your right to remain apathetic? The "MTV and the media totally raped us" part of the Nirvana concert video didnít have much effect on me. The echoing voices were kind of trippy while stoned but that was about it.
As a child Iíd spend rainy afternoons like this looking out my bedroom window. Looking through it now the scenery was the same but the view had changed. Was there such a thing as pot withdrawals? I missed listening to my favorite cds stoned. I remembered when I could lose myself in a guitar solo. It was this sonic bliss that I longed to feel once more.
Brannen doesnít want our friendship to be based on drugs anymore. To quote Dolemite, bitch are you for real? Weíve been stoner friends for like a year and now you want to be real friends? First of all, you donít level jump on a friendship like that. Second of all, youíd have to do something about your constant one-upmanship and geekier-than-thou elitism.
Thereís a girl I like. Her smile holds the key to untold ecstasies of delicate serenity. Sheís beautiful, intelligent, but most importantly sheís Christian. Maybe Iíll ask her out to the upcoming concert by Christian rap/rock group Praise Against The Machine.