Compete.

Just woke up after strange all day dreams about an apartment I lived in some time back in the 1700’s when punk broke (A-gain. Sigh…) and barbecuing a lot of seafood.

I rouse myself to make the first bucket of tea for the day and the front door is wide open and ding-a-ling is walking round without his shirt on,eating nacho chips and smelling like an ashtray. I know that I am a horrible person,I made my tenacious peace with this fact a long ass time ago but no one deserves this. No one.

Then you have the fat fuck and her equally bovine daughter throwing furniture around upstairs and …why…do …I …bother?

I know that the time is nigh when I have to leave my bed,done clothes that won’t scare the horses and make my way to the store for more supplies (“But its not my birthday?” “No you round eyed fool! Supplies!”) The sooner I do it the sooner that it is done I know,I know.

Miss Emma sent me a text from The Roosevelt in Hollywood telling me of foxy fables fresh from my old stomping ground and I am happy for her but at the same time there is a razor sharp shard of ice in my heart that throbs with the bloodthirsty knowledge that I may never get to go home again.I don’t even have the coin to send to my old room-mate to get my shit freighted  to me in this horrible holding patten that I find myself locked in..Amazing how one fuck upped relationship can destroy a whole country for a person. Predators alienate you from your friends.They are so good at it.Its quite sickening really its because they have destroyed all of their own friendships.Excuse me for a moment.I have to go hurl….

Better out than in.Teeth brushed,feel better.

I still have not begun the great room clean of 2012.So very unlike me.Saint Tina and I spoke yesterday.It made me realize how pathetic I and my fast diminishing priorities really are.One of her dearest friends with two children and a devoted husband has been diagnosed with bone cancer.Upon receiving news like that and tales of her stoicism I do not for one second believe that I am brave or that I have the courage to see this life experience out. I am humbled.I am shit.I light candles and send my light from afar because if I was in the same situation the last think I would want would be people swarming around me offering condolences with their perfect health in the face of my immanent demise.

This is where we let ourselves down as a breed.We have no ceremony anymore.A card? I mean,really?

How do you say goodbye if given fair warning?

Even with all the words I possess I would keep my fat head shut.I would just go away.Fill my pockets with rocks and walk into the river.

I think that is what I have been doing my whole life.Never feeling like I have made the grade,never entirely sure what the grade was to be completely honest and I have just gone away. (“Strange unnatural child that she is”) Never met my own exacting standards but I had one hell of a time trying,yes sir I did. Always felt disconnected from the things,places and events that I was told and raised to believe meant something massive and all consuming.None of it never meant shit to me.

People are so poisonous.I attract the cream of the curdled crop.It must be in my cellular make up or something. Show me an asshole with a substance abuse problem and a rap sheet and I am booking the tickets to Vegas.I am a stray and in that I think that I attract much of the same.I am also a bolshy autodidact which tends to ruffle a few insecure felonious feathers when the shit hits the fan. Bugger it.Where was I..?….Oh! I just adore how dumb we are as humans that we think that every-time is going to be different.Every new start.Oh ho ho! That our faults will be solved with the amnesty of a new fuck,location or job.

Ahhhahahahah! .

Being that I have some Internet credit I indulged in what ended up being about five minutes of porn.Just to see if my chick bits had re-animated themselves when I wasn’t looking. Mr Rollins met my gaze when he was describing the way he,a-hem,services himself with an overhand stroke during his orgy of spoken word on friday night.I dropped a dirty slow wink heavy with ink black false lashes and smiled. He gulped. As for my neither regions? Nope. No dice.

Not that I would let anyone touch me the way that I look right now. Disgusting.You have to have standards.The world will denigrate into an elastic waisted two- for-one sale at Walmart of destiny if they are not upheld. Problem being is that I think that I am the only one who does because day after bloody buggery day I see an endless wave of ugly fucks breaking on a putrid shore of much of the same. And they fuck!.

Romance is dead as the dodo. Its like Caligula mixed with Todd browning’s Freaks out there .It burns my retinas and my expensively scented sensibilities to a crisp.

Say if I dug a dude enough to make the beast with two backs with him (“And that weather report in hell,now back to John in the studio with the weekly Sport roundup…”) I would want to present a great event,a close-to-flawless corpse.Heres the byline “Life is ugly,fucking shouldn’t be!”.A hallowed  product. Am I alone in this bearing of standards? Sadly and seemingly so. I don’t know why I am banging on about it anyway.Probely because it never ceases to amaze me. You lower your standards? The world becomes your all you can eat buffet of fuck.I shudder to think.I would rather go record shopping and stay up all night writing. I would rather deep throat a broken bottle.

Now I understand why civilians feel the need to drink.

Singular people are just that because they are too hard for the unwashed masses to work out.Insurance that I don’t have to pay for! Can I get an Hallelujah?

They say that it is better to have loved and lost that to live with an abusive psychopath for the rest of your life. A fair point. Its just sad when the worst part of a person is their drug addiction and what it turns them into and not the person themselves.This is what keeps people hanging onto terrifying relationships for years. Then you have the undeniable fact that water seeks its own level. Junkies bang hookers. They want a running mate on their endless journey to extinction.

Foul.

So a great woman is diagnosed with bone cancer.Never hurt a fly.But Florida scum live to scam and shoot up another day.Dear Elvis,please send a strychnine shot to her long-over-due-meant-to-Od-ugly-self,amen.Or at least invite me into the Jungle room for a Quaalude and a peanut butter and banana sandwich and tell me how your divine master-plan works because I just don’t get it….

I am not doing much to further or help my situation at this point I freely admit.I am trying to find a reason and a point.The long winter of my blah,blah,blah.I have to admit,bar my dickhead neighbor,it is rather nice to be living in a domicile with a airtight roof the colder it gets. It irks me that my ex ex,the grumpy tattooist,the one before this one,lives in a shit hot compound in the middle of the city with all my mates when it should be me.I still dig living with Lilli but her retarded baggage sucks the high hard one.

Everyone arrives back from California this week and it will be great to see them. Many photos and fables.Laz is going to Finland to tattoo and I am stuck here rotting and broke. Its not a pity party so you don’t have to bring a plate.I passed that about a million miles back.I danced with the lampshade on my head and puked in the dishwasher.What it is is an impasse the likes of which I have never had to deal with before and I am not sure how to even begin to go about it.I have never been in the position where I have not had an adversary to pit myself against or a challenge.

Its all very strange.I don’t think that I like it at all.

I speak to myself here with my endless puking of circular stupidity but I think that its wise to keep my pie hole shut in the real life exploits,as rare and feeble as they are,that I chose to undertake.

No one is out there ,not really.And if they are and you spill your guts in a moment of weakness? You end up in debit one way or another.I will cool my jets in purgatory until Elvis sends me the dispatch that I deam worth moving for,the one that gets me to deploy like the war hungry tragic that I am.

Ho-hum.

The best competition was always myself and the demons that had ambled after me ,nipped at my well shod heels since birth.Miss Karen just called me and after five minutes of hearing myself speak I swiftly concluded the conversation by announcing “I cant have this conversation,I love you,goodbye”

And I cant.Not with her,not with anybody for that matter because its flat out rude.Airing my metal instability is balls out bad manners and I have to just suck it up.Sleep around the clock,be broke,whatever.I am throwing myself under the wheels again soon.I have to or I die like this.

Somethings gotta give.