Sad Bunny Can't Cum

Welcome to the retrospective (cue Jerry Lewis telethon music).  It's a sort of sad time for me.  I lost my computer this past Friday.  Several outages and a lack of grounded outlets, thanks to antiquated design and moronic neighbors who don't understand that computers are more than idle curiosities and are actually essential to the younger sets way of life, lead to it turning off without warning.  Since I- I promise you this will be a "too much information" packed retrospective- since I usually do most of my writing in the dark, with a short order of bourbon, and nothing else on (electronic or otherwise), I was immediately plunged into darkness.  Dismantled the entire thing and went on a debugging, forensic, junior mortician's foray that lead me to the soul shaking realization that the mother board burned.  And now I'm slightly sad (devastated) because my computer was my best of best friends.  Now I'm stuck with my functionally challenged laptop that was dropped on its head too many times as a kid.

My writing is now inaccessible (fuck) on sata hard drives, my resume is inaccessible (fuuuck), my porn is sitting idle (fuuuuuuuck), and my music collection is essentially in a vault (FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-) till I get a new motherboard or other PC tower to- okay who gives a shit.  I do, but that's boring.  Me talking about this is like listening to someone talk about their dead cousin who you never met and they never really talked about before and trying to pretend like they have your undivided attention when it's fourth and inches in a preseason Steelers game and the gaurd they drafted is about to be put to his first real test and show you whether or not the season is going to be worth pinning playoff hopes to.  Long, long, long sigh while trying to pay attention to what really matters without looking like a complete dick.  Suffice to say, combining a tempermental laptop with a 860 bits per second internet connection and the fact that I have to write in notepad and can throw making after the fact edits squarely out the window has made me a fucking sad bunny.

Maybe I should have talked about that last.  Life has turned into a very long jerk session.  Like "just blew a rail at the bar and the chick I got into the cab with hopped out midway to my place so I blew another rail and tried to watch a movie to console myself, but couldn't get into it so I tried to rub one out and I'm three hours in and nodding off knowing I won't sleep well at all unless I at least get the small victory of cumming and all signs are pointing to a four a.m. photo finish with passing out sitting at my desk with empty cans of Natty cheering me on from the gallery."  But, yeah, you know it's dragging.  Been working hard, but obstacles must have eachother on speed dial the way things have continued to stack and you know it's no good when doing the thing you love to do becomes difficult and all you really want to do is sleep.  Good news is I've pounded enough coffee to start a coca leaf grow operation in my stomach.  Suck on that contra.  I'm not sure how the two are related, but hopefully it's close enough to let you fill in the hilarious gaps.  Personally, I didn't laugh.  Didn't even smirk on that one, but fuck it, it's out there and doing its thing.

So into it (longest intro ever).  Five years in bullets:
-started blog because I was pissed at my boss and had no one to tell about it.
-stopped talking about my boss because it was whiny as all hell.
-planned to start a career as a kept man.
-decided my beard deserved my face like modern pop and R&B singers deserve euthanisation.
-spewed hate toward beard haters.
-realized 99% of myspace writers were hacks.
-left myspace because I hated being connected to people.
-left facebook
-went back to facebook and myspace when my communication anxiety faded.

... God this is boring.  Worst retrospective ever.

I think there's supposed to be a memoir like tone to the narrative that I am completely whiffing on.  I wanted to be a fighter pilot for the longest time.

I guess I'll just skip to what's new.  I'm realizing more and more that the shit surrounding my island is so ridiculously deep that it is fairly realistic to say there is zero chance of any kind of college sweetheart reunion.  Think of it this way: what she has in common with her peers now is like two humans talking to eachother.  What she has in common with me is like a person at a zoo talking to animals.  While one may be more interesting, it's not what you'd want to spend your life doing.  What else.  I guess I'm bi.  Are there rules for that.  I guess I didn't just start one day.  If I look back it's pretty obvious.  Most people don't really give a shit now anyway which has been a massive relief, because what I feared the most was being hated.  Some people look at me differently, maybe, I'm not sure and I don't care all that much to ask them.  I'm still the same person with the same anger management issues and the same scars.  Someone asked me why I would choose to be something that "will make my life more difficult", but to be perfectly honest it's made my life so much easier to live now that I can understand myself that much better.  Even saying what I am feels strange, as though there are brands of people.  But, anyway, sex with guys is fun.  Sex with girls is fun.  Different reasons for both.  Girl cum and guy cum are pretty close in taste to me.  That's probably the only thing the two have in common for the most part.  Guys and girls are attractive for different reasons too.  I guess the oddest thing is most gay men are incredibly obnoxious and unattractive.  On second thought, not really that odd because most women are also unnattractive.  Or maybe, okay further revision: most gay men and women I don't scare away with my being myself are unattractive.  That's the qualifier I was tasting on the tip of my tongue.  Fuck em.  I just wish I was willing to let myself see it sooner and embrace it, but I was so caught up in performing to the rigid framework I grew up in I suppressed and ignored it and raged inwardly and outwardly and not allowing myself to be.  I missed out on the whole "rules and standards committee" meetings in college so now I'm still learning about it, but better late than a repression fueled suicide.  One of the hardest things to get over was feeling like I've somehow failed as a man.  That's actually been the single toughest thing in accepting my sexual self.  So much of socialization is the assumption of roles and rejecting the hetero role that framed and formed and malformed so much of my behavior like fucking foot binding was and continues to be difficult, but it's a difficulty that's building toward true normalcy for me and in so being it is worth every ounce of growing pain.

What else.  I'm bad at keeping secrets.  I've realized that so much of my life has been informed by half truths that propogating them is so extremely distasteful that I just can't do it with believable conviction.  A good thing and a bad thing, but mostly a good thing I think.  A change for the better.  There's still a little voice in my head that talks about dreams of wealth, but there's a louder voice that screams to me to write and ultimately having a nine to five and writing will mean more to me than continuing a foreign quest for status and titles and degrees.  I think that's what helps keep me sane.  I'm still looking for that elusive community of writers.  That still hasn't changed.  I came close to finding one.  Hopefully that'll turn into something.  I think I'm wandering again.  I love you.  Don't be sad.  Life won't drag on forever and that's something we can look forward to, right?  Death is going to be the best orgasm ever.  I'll still be enthusiastic about it when it rolls around.  In the meantime you just have to make the most of the little humps and enjoy the moments you get to spend cumming as much as possible.  Also, don't say that to people in casual settings.  They'll think you're weird.  Also don't tell people you're too depressed to cum.  Even as a metaphor, but especially not literally, unless they're the kind of crazy sexy person who would take it as a standing challenge.  Even then.  You know what, you probably should not be taking advice from me about this.

How's this for some summation of 200 posts:  I was born, I lived for a while not knowing there was a world outside the controlled universe of my home until college, I discovered there was a world, I dated a fantastic girl for a long time, I loved my beard, I planned to get in tight with a cougar before I dated, I revised my life mission once I realized none of that was actually going to work, I realized the only thing really important to me was writing, I accepted my creative self, I accepted my sexual self, I loved, I hated life, I had sex, I learned that I'm a violent person, along the way I learned I had real (actual) mental defficiencies that require maintenance, I learned that the best thing I could do was fight it by living with it constructively, and I realized that I'm not the greatest thing to happen to the world, but maybe a good thing to happen to a handful of people.  So that's it.  Peace.

///Dntel - "Casuals"  Walking down an overcast lane and the air is so cool on your face that you can't help looking to the sky to watch the bits of an almost storm chase eachother over the building tops and forget the shit that turned your eyes red that afternoon and feel the slippage of time and understand that you're still you and that's perfectly alright.

Panel 3 and "What Had Happened Was..."

Panel 3 for poetry is above. Panel 3 option is below. Haven't decided which one to go with yet, but that's a good problem to have.

So what happened is there was me and her and now there's just me. And me and her were supposed to be best friends, but that's sort of not happening. Or maybe it is. Maybe I just don't understand what a best friend is supposed to be. So, in the spirit of lolcats, I has a sad. It's distressing and depressing and it's every morning waking up from dreams of being left and having to leave and spending the day working, but in the back of my mind wishing and hoping and yearning for the day not to end and a new one to begin and to have to go to sleep and dream again and wake. All I want is for the night to keep going and my eyes to not close and my mind to not show me things that can't exist.

I saw (500) Days of Summer and, in seeing it, I finally "got it". I suppose, the reason (precipitating from the root cancer eating its way into my life through horrific family ties) for the separation was something along the lines of she really liked me, but as for someone to spend the rest of her life with she simply could not be sure. It would be an unfair gamble for her, and unfair of me to demand that she roll her dice with someone living at the edge of an abyssal plain. I wouldn't want to make anyone have to step into and live in the midst of the daily bullshit that goes on behind the scenes of the farce of my family and I know now that is what I was asking her to do.

It's supremely aggravating and gut punching the way things unfurled because a lot of avoidable things happened through their intent... and then to be constantly asked by the culpable behind the scenes actors who helped orchestrate failure "so how's she doing, do you guys talk?" is particularly galling. I want to stab them in their fat, beady eyed faces and slit their throats. So many awful things happened, caused by their utter lack of support, religious conceit, and selfishness and they'll never take responsibility for their massive role in cutting my legs out from under me with almost super villain frequency. It's funny because there is almost no other way to describe it. It's like James and the Giant Peach, but I still haven't had the benefit of magical intervention.

In another world, an alternate space, where they didn't exist and I did and all the stupid money issues I had nothing to do with never happened and I finished school because I had the support and genuine concern of parents who were not themselves bitter, money grubbing, pathetic shells of themselves locked in a dead end marriage that ate the lives of their children to survive... we're still together.

Where does love go. Who the fuck knows. How do you stay best friends with someone who doesn't talk to you? You send letters and messages and it starts to feel like you're the sorry sumbitch in no man's land waiting for the mail service to get through, but it never does and you'll never know why. I don't think I'll ever be alright with that. As for my romanticized view of the world: it's still there and still tinted Gothic.

I hate when people say things like "it could be worse." Of course it could be worse, but that doesn't exactly make the current unpleasantness any more livable. Anywho. Probably the last time I tag a post with "girlfriend" for a while. I don't think I'll ever be okay, but in time I'll have grown into another person and this person who feels this way will have died and the new person won't remember how the corpse felt, but will see the old photographs and think "oh, how charming. Wonder how that ended". It would be easier if it wasn't glaringly obvious how drastically, positively, different things could have been in my life from the time I was 5 years old to now without them destroying the things I cherished and the things that made me laugh and smile and the people around me and my siblings. They know it too. They'll never admit it though and that's why I will hate them until the day they die and I can sleep knowing they can never hurt me and my relationships with the people I love ever again.





///Dntel - "(This is) The Dream of Evan and Chan" Someday soon, I'll leave it all behind. Sorry for asking you to listen to all of that and thanks if you did.

approaches

so i'm learning to approach things from the other side of the counter. i've been in the customer service industry for forever and im so used to being blank and open and receptive when it comes to business transactions that im having a hard time shifting into my managerial retail position. im not used to making declarative statements. im not used to making demands. im not used to asking people when i can expect them in my office. and im not used to trying to provide the best service at the lowest price possible.

that last one is the hardest part. if i cut my profit margins as slim as possible i wont be able to afford to keep the store open and people employed. its just that simple. breaking even on merchandise only covers the cost of merchandise! when its all sold and the register closes for the day what's left to turn the lights on tomorrow, buy my groceries for dinner, pay the window washer, and pay for the internet access and software licenses ill need tomorrow is nothing. nothing is left.

so i need to get used to telling people what something will cost THEM instead of what it will cost ME to make it. Let THEM decide if they like the price before trying to cut out corners (and make things more difficult for myself) to deliver them the same thing except cheaper.

Sure. Thats the kind of thinking that probably fucked GM but it didnt help that GMs customers were fucking idiots who swallowed whatever they shat out. Not so, in my little shop. My customers are sharp and frugal. So I welcome the price bending and look forward to figuring out better ways to do things to keep my work load down, my profits up, and quality high as ever... but if i start off cutting rates ill be out of business before i learn anything. ;P

///dntel - "fear of corners" ironically this song was on when the owner and i had a discussion about how to price an order. unfortunately because i started off cutting so many corners in the labor to produce the shirts the owner advised me that i could not offer a discount on the shirt itself. the price quote doubled. the customers walked out on me (but promised to return... i hope they do!). generally an unsatisfactory resolution. but a learning moment i dont intend to squander. the training continues.

this is whats wrong 07/25/07

Subject : this is whats wrong
Posted Date: : Jun 25, 2007 6:54 PM

what keeps america going?

a quick survey of television yeilds:

the "criminal justice industry" (prisons, police, etc.)

the military ("protecting" overseas interests)

education (schooling to make you a functional cog but not intelligent)

image (make yourself better and more liked by putting [insert product] on as often as possible)

[no picture necessary, just turn on your damn tvfor 15 minutes]

and fear (see following music entry)

///dntel - "pillowcase" do not listen to this track at any time while high, and definitely not at night when hunting for sweeter dreams. back shortly.

and then the telephone started 05/12/07

Subject : and then the telephone started
Posted Date: : May 12, 2007 9:35 PM

the telephone is ringing and im not answering because im busy living at the moment and it requires my attentions.

may 21 i should have more time to do things like sit and ponder. i could have said think but there's something about the word ponder that's reminscent of chucking big smooth rocks into a little lake and hearing the plunk echo off the bottom of a foot bridge while some kid in a wide brimmed twine hat fishes and the sun busies itself with setting.

be back then.



<3