The First Cut

I had a great piece all ready and spellchecked for the butcher and ill send it someday but this isn’t it. On review it wasn’t grandiose it wasn’t dark or whiney, so I chucked it for this crap. I actually have a level of resentment about forcing myself to be negative. It doesn’t suit me, or that is to say, it doesn’t suit my image of myself. In reality im probably as dark as anyone I just cant focus on it. The result would no doubt be me lying in my car listening to the Afghan Whigs next to a few empty bottles of pills. Negativity filtered through an already disturbed mind has a tendency to amplify.
Ive been contemplating my life since I accepted my current vocation and have made an observation. For the last few years ive made a point of not really processing any thing on a serious level. An unfortunate event (which I wont bore you with) has left me avoiding introspection in any substantial way. It was just tempting enough to believe that blind positivity could help the situation. More likely it would have the same effect as a batter calling his shot and pointing into outer space as he steps into the batters box, a fastball in the mouth. Instead I did what any rational adult would do, I started drinking heavily and quit thinking about it. It seemed to work for a while, and I did forget, but I didn’t heal.
Now years later, I find myself with a job that affords me time, lots and lots of time. Sober time.
The veneer is still in place. Im fine. In fact its actually had some good side effects. Im more patient than ive ever been and seem to be able to focus my attention without getting distracted. But my recent, forced sobriety has made it all to clear that I have this unresolved issue to deal with. Journaling or blogging or writing is a thinly veiled art. The nature of it seems to stay light and spoon feed people what they want. That seems to be the right way to do it. It has recently been proposed to me that since there is no wrong in art then there really is no right either. At least that’s what I got out of it. Im not sure if this was an allusion to morality or quality, or both, or neither. I have a history or missing the point, but im going to take it as an indication that if wish to sit here and work out my personal shit on someone’s blog site without the vaguest hint of it even posing as entertainment, than anyone reading it can just fuck themselves and come along for the ride. Your still reading. Wow your really fuckin bored. Nothing on T V?
So where was I?
Oh yea somewhere between avoiding an unresolved issue and hinting that I might actually work it out here, on the butcher, in front of god and everybody. OK if you want blood, you got it.
Just kidding. Im way too big of a pussy coward to face my own shit sober. What is interesting is that If I were ready to deal with my internal shit, the scrutiny of a public forum would do just as well as a therapist or a bartender or a friend(if I have any left).According to this premise I can actually write about not writing about my personal shit and you can still go fuck yourself. Unfortunately since I cant be right either , it limits my range. But I can bitch. Wanna hear? Actually, I cant. Without a viable solution to a problem, or at least a rant that makes people focus on the problem in a solution oriented way your just looking for sympathy , which I don’t deserve, or attempting to make other people as shitty as you. Its like staring at the sun isn’t it? Reading something you know will have no point, that’s probably going to leave you feeling worse that you felt when you started? Relax, Bill Hicks thought me not to forget the purple vein dick joke and its coming soon.
How about this for a joke. I have a job that consumes a full two thirds of my time. I see my son one day a month. My job will more likely that not, cripple or kill me in the next few years. Im so lonely and bored that I opened a facebook account for attention. When I get off of work every two weeks I binge drink until my brain feels like beef jerky. Ive given up on having any kind of meaningful relationship with a woman as I would never see her anyway. I spend more on tequila than you spend on rent. Ready for the punchline………. Everyone’s proud of me! Oh sorry, I said I wasn’t going to bitch. Now you see why its important for me to stay positive. To focus on something else. The next drink. A good friend. A piece of ass. Whatever it takes to get you through. I will survive, its what I do. A friend of mine once signed a letter to me “ I love life and will never surrender” he hung himself a few years ago. That’s the big unresolved issue. I miss Mark Davis. You got your blood so fuck off. I hope the first cut was the worst. No, I don’t want to talk about it. Acknowledgement is enough for now. Beautiful, sadly mortal and confusing. Very cathartic.