April 2012: Human relationships are strange & stupid & sad, but funny & sweet & addicting
Of course it’s April Fool’s. How damnably appropriate.
- My dick has a tendency to wear out its welcome.
I met a nice girl on Monday, we chatted & seemed friendly Tuesday. We had a few drinks on Wednesday then drank and screwed solid through the night Thursday. We didn’t speak Friday or smile on Saturday, but on Sunday we had brunch & goodbye.
- (Poor Solomon Grundy.)
‘Stop me if you’ve heard this one before,’ a man says, and apparently his tire had, so it blew out. And of course the seventh largest city in the U.S. can’t be bothered to have a 24hr place for cars, just trucks.
‘I must be depressed.’
‘Must be? You know you don’t know?’
‘Not most of the time, no.’
‘So how can you tell now?’
‘I’ve been sleeping.’
‘You sleep when you’re depressed.’
‘Yes. I slept 32 hours out of 48, I think.’
‘I know. But I feel a manic coming on, if I’m able.’
Coffee & whiskey must be the answer. All I do is sleep without them.
‘I wish you wouldn’t think so goddamned much with your cock.’
‘I wish your brain wasn’t so fucking stupid.’
I in a sort of way hate but in my inebriation love that I can feel nothing and do nothing except when drunk and caffeinated. Because life without these things is just sleep, and more rest.
- ——In my darkest days, I could still type and put out some wonderful something beautiful and wonderful in its visceral lust for life. And ho ho, isn’t that why we write at all?
- ——Every time I stop drinking, I stop living. It’s terrible in some serene way, how much my life is entirely controlled by chemicals, and where you remove the catalyst, my life is inert. But add them in, and WHOOSH off I go like a rocket powered something in the best imitation of Bukowski, God bless his powd’ry bones.
- ——I hope cirrhosis comes sooner than later. I hope my organs explode in my abdomen rather than fail slowly. God knows I only want a good fucking dramatic exit and not a lingering innocuous retreat.
- I love the liquor that loosens ‘donts’ & lubricates thought. There is magic in the poison that burns, wonder in the cyanide that kills ‘ought ‘ for ‘is’ sake.
- ——I really do hate all the <sic>
‘Hey. How are you doing today?’
‘In the polite or existential sense?’
‘Oh fine. Yourself?’
——’Didn’t you hear?’
——’Scientists discovered an asteroid the size of Texas heading for the earth. It’ll be here in six months and we don’t have any way to stop it!’
——’Where are you going?’
——’To the batting cage. I need to start practicing, and there’s no time to waste.’
I’m alone in my blood cum & bile. How appropriate.
Women sure have terrible taste in men. Or at least that’s how I’ve gotten all my past relationships.
You see, they don’t get the joke & that’s what’s funny.
- I just can’t fucking do it. And it’s so stupid, innit?
‘Well, I asked her anyway.’
‘And what did she say?’
‘I didn’t give her a chance to answer. I just kissed her and that was the end of it.’
There’s only been one woman I think I naturally behaved as myself with. The rest were exercises in studying what they wanted of a man and trying to mold myself to give it to them, at least in the temporary. Sometimes to be more civilized & romantic, but also venial & knavish and depraved. I am, you know, flexible in this. But then I get bored and want to play at something else or in addition.
- Also, human relationships are strange and stupid and sad, but funny and sweet and addicting.
‘That’s sick, man.’
‘We’re not even that closely related!’
‘The world is large and cruel.’
‘Really? I always thought of it as small and indifferent.’
The world has not enough day or night in it to satisfy.