Monday, February 07, 2005
Aiport and Weekend Randoms
Here I am in the airport again Monday morning at 5:30. I am at the airport again after being at work on Sunday. Poor Erin was dragged around as the dear heart she is - only to have me lay one chore after another on her that I had to finish. I then followed up that pearl of a day that I gave her by having bad dreams that make me pace and smoke for half the night.
I'm here at the airport. This is the true melting pot of the world. This is the absolute semblance of forced meetings. Aluminum siding sales men, perky secretaries, Midwestern fat people, college girls with bad sweaters and bad skin gather like muted cattle to stow and wait and suck. Strung out teenage moms with "Enyce" sweatshirts and "Cheer" sweat pants cling to their baby's strollers and look over shoulders repeatedly. All black, all business, power bar eating, all-natural kiwi fruit cocktail drinking men are trying to look pensively and obnoxiously busy. These are the worst of the worst. These awful greed fuckers are buried in their Blackberries and curled up with their Wall Street journal while smugly resenting that there is no first class on the connection flight to Detroit from Cleveland. "A prop plane" you can hear them mutter under their breath. As their suit bag is thrown over the shoulder and they hustle in to order a black coffee or mineral water from the "Newport News and All American Bagel Shop". I role my eyes at them and laugh as if people still ordered shit like mineral water.
I have to go to the doctor while I'm here because my hand is definitely messed up. I had shooting pains down through my fingertips last night and on the plane ride here -there were more of them. The old adage of "If you can bend it and move it then it's not broke" does not seem to apply itself to the intricacies that is my hand.
She flaunted her life in front of me on Saturday. It wasn't her fault. She was just living. But to me, at that moment, she flaunted that she was living her life and what she shared on a daily basis with me was meaningless and cheap. I felt as if I were non-existent to her. It is ceaselessly entertaining how I am such a fool to have my heart broken and mended every day. I am that cheap of a person. Bought and sold by an idea of something that will never exist. Shameful am I of my actions and my ever-evolving ability to become predictably ridiculous.
I added some ghettoness to Federal Hill on Saturday night. You will notice that the Quizno's on light street now has a spidered broken window. See broken hand: above. Welcome to my world of moron.
I am seriously thinking about quitting my job and moving again. I'm not too happy with life right now and I don't see anything changing in the near future. There are moments in my life that do not allow for any peace and that peace is my currency to smile. That peace is non-existent. And my peace is different than yours or what you might think to be peace. I don't need to live like a country time lemonade commercial. I have no desire to swing on a porch swing while listening to old-timey country music. Looking in my bank account to see 50 grand doesn't make me sleep better. I want to live on the edge and hard just as I have always done. But I want it to count. Being held accountable is my peace. I am so free right now in terms of not caring about anything that it is senseless for me to attempt realistic happiness. I want to change and evolve. I'm not changing. I'm getting angrier and angrier. My actions are becoming boorish and sad. The company that I keep is far from anything I can relate to. Although trust and love are high within the circle, I will not grow like this. I will not evolve and hence I will die this way. I have no desire to become anyone that I see regularly. I do not emulate or covet what is around me. I am my own person but have always been weak at finding my path. Right now I have no beacon for which to shoot and no light tower by which to warn. I am speeding around a bathtub that I think is an ocean, and I am slowly running out of gas.
I have given up on dating and love for the duration of my transition into a place that is peace. I have nothing to give anyone else until I myself am at peace. All I do now is hurt people. Even without lying, my malice is evident in my inability to care.
The Super Bowl is something that I could really care less about. Although we had people around us and they were drinking and eating it all seemed stale and forced. It seemed like fleeting days of fields of gold that now had turned green with mildew ,or worse, tarnished because the gold was 80% real at best. The more I look around the more it all seems so misunderstood. I'm not being depressed and I'm not trying to pick a fight or ask for sympathy. I guess my main point is that life, in its essence, is energy. Our energy as a whole, the people I know and love, is wasted and spilled out on the floor. Our energy is flaccid to the point of being a joke. We are walking pariah. We have no real church. Our names our synonymous with jokes and rolled eyes. Our lives are sliding at a rate that soon will become critical mass. Getting holy, joining a gym, eating right, or reading more is not going to save me. I don't need to be saved. I need to be inspired by life and that inspiration is not coming at this base mondane level that consists of fawning, paralysis of the senses, propping up of a self-depricating image, and lawless/recklass behavior centered around insecurities and loneliness.
That was my weekend - - - what's next?
