Enter Actions
2006-03-02 1:25 p.m.
The drunken ramble of this morning reminded me of some emails I�ve received. On occasion I get some fun emails. My favorites are the disparaging ones, to which I usually reply when in need of a laugh. Here�s some questions from some miscellaneous reader mail over the past couple months�"Are you really as arrogant as you seem in your diary?"
Worse.
"What percentage of what you write is written while under the influence of alcohol"
About 95%. Most of what I write here is the product of drunken conversations either with my self or someone else, although never anywhere near as eloquent. Yes, I know one always seems far more intelligent to themselves while amidst a liquor induced haze, but that's not what I mean. The rhythm of a solid discussion is exactly what's required to make words dance as they're meant to.
"Do you drink a lot? You seem like an alcoholic"
Far from it. Actually, until this morning (woke up around 3am to a half bottle of black label) I haven't had more than one beer in any 72 stretch in about 2 weeks. I blame that more on being in between work and thoroughly involved in personal projects for the moment. I drink heavily, but not necessarily often - or at least not to any detrimental schedule. Alcoholism is actually a terrible and scary disease that I've known a few people to fall prey to. It's not pretty. I've the benefit of very good people at my side to ensure I don't reach those depths, but far more importantly, I do my best to maintain a solid perspective on my limitations and downfalls.
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As for those who want me to call or write back. For starters, I barely call anyone these days. Please don�t be offended if I don�t reply. It�s likely that I�ll reply sometime within the next year or two. You email is still marked as unread and will remain so until it�s been replied to. When I�m in the mood to, I guess.
As for calls� well, I�m not a fan of the phone, and especially with people I don�t know. There are very few people on the planet who I�ll actually have a phone conversation lasting longer than 5 minutes with. And I like to keep that list short. I�m just a really weird fucker and I�m only willing to display the raw feed of my oddities to a few people at a time.
More importantly, thank you for reading, and especially for writing. Stop being nice. I want the raw feed. I want pain and suffering. I want hatred. I want drunkenness and passion. In other words, I just wanna be loved.
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And some other miscellaneous stuff from strange hours on strange days�
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I have a hard time trusting those with too many perspectives. I commend them on their vast array of knowledge and tidbits, but we�re not meant to be encyclopedias of names and dates. Besides a select few, most will be forgotten after 3 generations and for good reason. It�s selfish to expect or even hope to be remembered specifically. What�s far more important is a presence within the history of everything. This is accomplished more wholeheartedly through day-to-day interaction than singular acts.
The idea that one can be redeemed through ha single act is absurd. Who gives a shit if you�ve made 1000 lives better if you�ve made millions worse by being an selfish asshole every day?
Anyways, back to my point. People who know the ideas and perspectives of many people tend to lose their own. When discussing things of importance you�ll find these people quoting scientists, authors, public figures and the like, but you�ll rarely get a glimpse of what the person actually believes. Generally you can figure something having to do with what they�re quoting, but you don�t know.
These people lack substance. If I wanted to know other people�s ideas and theories were, I�d have a conversation with them, or read the books and articles you read. But I don�t. I don�t know them nor do I give a fuck about them.
Throwing a barrage of authors, artists, book titles and high society magazine articles at me does nothing for me. Now� if you wrote something of your own, or painted, or recorded or created ANYTHING of your own, I�ll give that credence, regardless of the other shit that I�m SUPPOSED to like and respect.
I�m sitting across this table or couch with you because YOUR opinion means something to me. So please� by all means, give me a doorway to the soul you�ve been hiding between the pages of other people�s ideas. Otherwise, shut the fuck up and let people who have something of their own to say speak. They might not �seem� as intelligent as someone who�s so well versed in other people�s bullshit, but at least they have something of their own to show me.
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People out here seem to have this fake politeness. Now not everyone.. but more than I�ve encountered elsewhere. It bothers me. Being polite is good, and if you�ve spent any time in the Midwest, you�ll find a lot of genuinely polite people. A lot of people I�ve met in the south, more so. But my brethren and� um� (sistren?) from Chicago know when it�s time for politeness to end. There�s a point in a conversation when niceties get the back seat to being real with a person.
It�s not only the things I say to other people. Sure I talk my shit. I tell people when their fashion sense seems to have gotten caught in the garbage disposal for the day (people that it seems to matter to, anyways) and they take this pause as if I just insulted their character. No� If I insulted your character as I very well could, we would no longer be friends.
What�s worse is when I throw out a self-deprecating remark to lighten a conversation. They defend ME!!! What the fuck?!?! I�m a drunk and I�m completely full of shit!! I�ve accepted this long ago. Just because you haven�t accepted your own problems doesn�t mean I should suffer amidst the sparkle of the polished bullshit pushing its way through your teeth.
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Not everyone lives the daytime schedule. I�m a big fan of working for myself as I�ve the freedom to sleep during the day and work through the night. No... it�s not a sign of depression. Actually, I�m probably happier than you. No� I�m not anti-social (though rather taciturn)� Actually, I�m avoiding the very social life I�ve maintained, but that has ZERO to do with my schedule. I get far more calls at 1am than I do at 1pm.
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Just because I don�t have a girl for the moment does NOT mean that I�m suddenly turned off by women. It does NOT mean I have trouble with women. And it most DEFINITELY does NOT mean I want you to hook me up with your some chick who actually is having trouble. I WILL offend your friend, specifically because whoever you have in mind is NOT as perfect for me as you think (which you don�t you lying fuck). You don�t know me. Not even close. She�ll get offended - not on purpose, mind you (well maybe a little).
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S popped up on my screen the other day to tell me that I popped into her head while in need of some decent conversation. I immediately felt bad for her as hoping for my inane rambling must be horrible. I can�t imagine how bad things have to be for someone to want to hear me spew asinine theories about technology, education and death.
Actually, more than anything, I wanted to return the sentiment. But warm words become chilly when delivered in a �me-too� envelope.
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I tend not to plan aloud. I have so many plans and ideas and I expect to put forth at minimum valiant effort towards each and every one. Yes, that includes ideas I had when I was 5. This is what I am. The culmination of a twisted little mind brought up in a twisted little world.
So when I have some blank stare while sober or a silly grin while drunk, you might not want to know what I�m thinking about. Sure, I may be thinking about you (if your one who would like it if I were), but then again, there�s a great chance that I�m thinking about 1500 other things as well.
When you ask what�s on my mind, it�s only by chance that you�ll hear the answer you�re hoping for. It more likely to be some asinine theory I have about the effect of the suction behind a subway on passing pigeons (the train, not the restaurant) or what the difference in efficiency might be with two differing programming theories or how much pepper I should use next time I make an attempt at perfecting my tortilla soup recipe.
But don�t be mistaken, I�m always plotting something, and it generally has little to do with what I�m doing at any given moment. This is the definition of my clumsiness. As well, I tend to plan in silence as it allows me to hide my failures. It�s not that I�m afraid of failure, but the exact opposite. I look forward to them. They are the essence of education. But the site of failure from a far looks far more painful than it actually is.
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The hard part about freelance work is how unstable one�s bank account remains. It took me a week to get enough quarters together to do 2 loads of laundry. Of course in 2 or 3 weeks I�ll be able to afford buy a new car, cash if I wanted. Nature of the beast I suppose.