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| There Ain't No Justice |
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| #103 |
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Going Crazy in the Suburbs 07: If Your Memory Serves You Well...
by Hairy
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i think maybe tonight
i'll torture myself some more
let's see
how many skeletons
are hiding in my closet
each day is a struggle
for oxygen
for control of my form
for proper posture and
emotional stability
home from work
just another night alone
wishing it wasn't this way
where's my vodka?
where's that orange juice?
where's that girl who cared if i lived or died?
been looking for her ring
"are you married?"
"no, it just feels like it sometimes."
seems like so long ago
it was just yesterday
pissed it away into the cold grey memories
whirrrrr
the ring's nowhere to be found
just as well
i remember i told her to keep it
when she threw it at me
found the home pregnancy test
remember that day we sat on the bench
trying to be calm adults
amidst all the childish stupidity of the circumstance
april first
nineteen-ninety four
nine o'seven in the morning
hello, fatherhood
funny to meet you here
at this drugstore
blood stains on the mattress
i can't even remember who they belong to
beth
i think
poor poor beth
my heart ate her
just like all the rest
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09/10/94
porno mags
and rope
and old sketches
still can't find that ring
hope she's well
hope she's happy
without me
"who knows
who cares
who'll remember anyway?"
i've got a lot of schnapps
but not quite enough
to hide in
found the ring
why did you let me do this to you
why did you let me destroy your life
corrode your world with my blackness
what ever you do
what ever you do
don't let anyone like me near you again
we're all the same
all we know how to do is hurt
take
rape
maim
and then complain about it afterwards
about how lonely we are
after we've sucked the life out of you
left you in a crumpled heap on the floor
hate me
hate everyone like me
it's best that way
it's best
that way
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09/13/94
intoxicated again
familiar in my drunken stupor
my alcohol induced unreality
shhhhh
be quiet, dear
you're going to miss the sound
of me pissing my life away
into alcohol
into the record industry
into keeping manic panic in business
into this techno mutilated hell
into lesley's gaping cunt
into jill's thoughtful heart
i'm going to spend it all
twice as bright
half as long
strobing catastrophes
in my emotional imbalance
"starvation for touch"
save me
save me
save me from the future
my maturity (ma-toor)
career advancement
progress
it's all whittling me away
into nothingness
into a heap of splintered emotions
half lives
irradiated thoughts
cancer flesh and
sunken eyes and
my god
take it all away
give me my womb back
some safe hole to crawl into
something
anything
"anything i can get"
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11/05/94
"if your memory serves you well.."
too well
sorry
here it comes again
all that heartache and emotion
strife
nothingness
bleak bleak desolation
thanks
thanks for the memories
now get out of my life
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11/08/94
sense of time fading
satellite views
expelled sweat and
cold isoation
commitments in the darkness
things i wish i could forget
despair
failed humanity
souls on the brink
tortured by thoughts and
misspent actions
directed by
driving hands of misery
godless prayers and
empty glances
take me away
into your bleak
your cold cold death
the stares that overlook me
passed by
again
and again
and always
i thought i'd found a place to belong
i found fashion
and trends
cosmetic surgery and
one night stands
death is more fulfilling than this
this walking bloat
these repeating thoughts
night after night
after night
hangover
recooperation
intoxication
the steel mill shuffle
compassionless nights alone
you can't escape fate
you can't escape fate
the only prayer is death
"tormenting my soul.."
i used to be artistic, you know.. i used to have big ideas, big plans. i
still do, i suppose - just not as many, just not as often. it's another night
alone at work.. "me, the night, and music"..
i've been trying to find a way to get the two women in my life - - jill and
my "every other week slut" - - together in bed. maybe then i wouldn't feel so
bad about what i've been doing behind jill's back. who knows.
sex is my only pastime, apparently. at least i'm (supposedly) good at. the
"every other week slut" told me that i was a twelve on a scale of one to ten.
if only she knew, if only she knew..
i went off and spent $200 on gargoyles and old iron candle holders and hand
dipped candles and all sorts of other worthless items for jill's birthday. i
didn't get her anything for christmas - i didn't get anyone anything - and i
guess i'm trying to make up for it.
the cat keeps attacking the units. don't they get it? the poor creature is
trapped in this tiny confined place, no one plays with it, no one provides a
way for it to get exercise.. poor kitty.
i had this big thought a week or two ago. something i could have expanded on,
got big and melodramatic with, but i never got around to it. story of my
life.. it all goes back to when somebody called me "sad clown" last year
sometime. i guess it just fit, somehow. some wretched creature that can't
smile anymore, can't feel happiness.. wanders around with tears streaming
down his cheeks, trying to make others laugh.
well, i'm glad i didn't expand on it.
hey, the letters will get better - - i promise. i'm just in a slump, you
know.. give me time, i'm sure i'll find new and entertaining things to
butcher myself with.
i found out that a friend of jeff's is hiv positive a few days ago. the guy's
so cynical, so bent on things. i always sort of liked him before, we saw
things in the same way - sort of. i wonder if he was like this before he
found out, or if he was another generic happy camper.
the local "i could be bi" looking video store clerk seems to have taken some
sort of fancy to me. maybe i rent things he likes, i don't know. i think i
devastated him the other night, though - - i went straight for the adult
section, picked the most blatantly heterosexual smut flick i could find, and
right up to the counter for him to check me out. you could almost see him
crumble.
i don't even really know why i went and did that, i sort of like the guy. he
seems genuine about things.
i'd probably have a weird homosexual experience if it were dark enough, i
were drunk, and i didn't have to play at some sort of relationship
afterwards. i mean, i could handle a nice "one night stand" sort of
situation, but i wouldn't want to - - share toothbrushes? swap underwear? you
know.. you know how it is.
who cares, i'm probably going to die of some sort of sexually transmitted
disease anyway. maybe it'd make me more interesting.
i had to actually work the other day, and managed to break off most of my
favorite finger nails. now all the hillbillies are going to get confused - -
they used to look at my long nails, take into consideration that i wear
fishnets and lots of black, bracelets and jewelry.. i'm shy.. well, the
popular consensus seems to be that i'm queer as queer can be. now most of the
nails are gone, except the socially acceptable "coke" nails, so they're going
to start to think i'm heterosexual. i just can't have this - i just can't
confuse these poor farmers - who knows what might happen? i'd better start
wearing a stuffed bra to work to make them rest at ease.
la, la, la.
really, the letters will get better. time, that's what i need - more time.
"talking in my sleep again.."
had a horrible toothache this morning. i didn't get home until two in the
morning anyway, and the pain kept me awake until seven. i slept a few hours,
it woke me back up again. it was horrible. i thought about offing myself, it
was scary. i suffered through it, i suffer through everything.
no one realizes how strong the silent miserable people are. ok - i'm not
going to be close-minded - i know that everyone goes through pain now and
then. emotional, physical, whatever - it effects everyone. i just feel that
if the typical "happy happy happy" person went through what most of us (us,
the silent miserable people) go through, they'd freak out. they'd go on those
cross-country murder sprees, or enter the publisher's clearing house
sweepstakes four hundred times. they'd just loose it.
i'm talking out of my ass again, aren't i always. i make my world what it is,
and i'm the one who wallows in it. i should stop bitching.
maybe i'll get three jobs to keep me occupied.
i bought a pair of fishnet tights while i was on my little shopping
extravaganza. i ran home and snipped the crotch out of them, put my head
through the hole, and stuck my arms where the legs should have went. i threw
a long black skirt over my clothes, put on my tail coat - - "i haven't been
out in ages.." i thought. i'm going out tomorrow, come hell or high water,
i'm going to get out of this "work - sleep - work" routine.
maybe i'll pick up where i left off, maybe i'll find some innocent little
girl's heart and crush it. sounds like something i'd do.
"sometimes you take it all too far
then i remember it's a game between
you and me"
i guess i'm back to my old quotation game. sigh.
i still haven't written to that girl in florida. maybe i don't feel so guilty
about it after all? i bought a postcard and decided i could at least send her
that, i could at least fill the back of a postcard with something - anything.
it still hasn't happened..
i'm going to end up moving wherever i can find a nice $500-$600 rent. it
doesn't even matter anymore, nothing matters.
nothing has ever mattered, what am i talking about?
blah, blah, blah.
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1/31/95
hi
how are you
i'm falling apart again
depression and intoxication at the limelight
not much more to say
same shit
different day
all those faces
fuck them
i'm dying
---
we all play our little games
don't we?
flirts and stares
flirts and stares
vincent,
vincent my boy
pour me another drink, vincent
and feed my soul
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february 8th..? maybe..?
there's a new siouxsie album / tour on the way, but being the big siouxsie
fan as you are, i'd guess you know this. she's played a few shows in england
already, sort of to "build for the event", and they were (supposedly) very
good.
blah, blah, blah. i'm at work again. it's almost midnight again. blah, blah,
blah.
well, i'd love to deliver on the promises i made about "this week's issue,"
but i don't think i can, really. not much has happened. well.. let's see..
jill and i were pronounced "defunct" last wednesday. i was laying in bed half
awake after spending the night at the limelight. (yes, i did actually go out.
first time in close to three months. wheeee!) something was bothering her. i
kept nagging, and eventually she told me. i guess i should have gotten upset,
but i was very supportive at the time, petting her head and telling her
everything would be alright.
i wondered why i was being so strong. i figured in a few days i was going to
be swirling around in this ocean of sorrow and loneliness. i amaze myself,
sometimes.
anyway, life went on. no real sorrow, no real regrets. i guess our
relationship was dissolved a long time ago in my mind - - i guess? it was. i
gave up a long time ago, and i guess i'm a bastard for that. who cares, i
don't care, i don't even feel, how can i be expected to care?
soon it was wednesday night, and i was sitting around trying not to disturb
my skin condition (another story i'll soon tell). jill pops in the room,
giggle giggle giggle, and ruins my enjoyment of "unsolved mysteries" on the
tube. "i got lonely," she says.
we proceeded to do the typical things.. lay on the bed and talk, lay on the
bed and fuck, lay on the bed and sleep. so much for "defunctitude".
in a way, i was sort of sad it had all ended so quickly. i really have
forgotten what other people are like. i can't remember what it feels like to
fall in love, all of those things. friday i ended up going to the bank and
squashing some girl's heart, or near-squashing it, so i guess i'm back to
where i was awhile ago. (close to squashing it, i'd say, because i gave her
lots of warning and honesty. "i hurt everyone," i told her, "i'm sick of it.
i want to know all about you, and at the same time i don't even want to know
your name." i don't think she got it, don't think she understood. "do you
want my phone number?" she asked. "no, i'll never call you," i told her. i
didn't mean to be cold, i meant to be honest. maybe honesty hurts, i don't
know. she didn't seem all that saddened, maybe shocked.. the only thing that
weighs on me is that she doesn't even really interest me - none of them do -
it's just the "thrill of the chase" i guess.
shit, listen to me. mister studboy, mister "i can have any girl i want." i'm
so full of shit.
i just like the feeling of being loved, knowing (or thinking) that people
care.
pfffft.
skin condition: i've had this itchy thing on my upper thigh for the past year
and a half. it just sort of lived there, got a little flaky, itched once in
awhile. i went to a dermatologist for an unrelated bit of nastiness in the
same general area last summer, and he didn't think anything of my flaked
skin. well - - he should have. i seemed to have had "ringworm" (insert
"variant of jock itch" or "tinea", whichever will make you less queasy). it
got spectacularly itchy a week or so ago, i scratched the hell out of it
(with my half inch fingernails), drew blood, and managed to give myself a
bacterial infection (yay!) in the form of medium-sized puss filled sores all
up and down both my thighs. yes, this was alarming. yes, this was a pain in
my ass. yes, i went out and promptly spent $200 on doctors and
prescriptions. joy, joy, joy.
we're a poor family, you know, no health insurance, no insurance whatsoever.
sigh.
hmm. what else has happened? this is only two pages - this is not an
acceptable letter.
skin condition.. defunctitude.. mmm..?
i'll ramble, that's what i'll do.
you get to missing me if i don't write, eh? well - i don't mean to tell the
truth here or anything, but i get a little lonely when i don't hear from you,
too. i'm not going to go into the whole "special person, blah blah blah"
speech again..
jill, teli & i don't "have sex" together. that was sort of a fluke, that.
from what i remember, jill and i were "going at it" one afternoon, and teli
decided to let himself in. we stopped, but didn't really make much effort to
get out of bed. after awhile, teli sat on the edge of the bed, and we all
talked. maybe i started it - i don't know - but it happened.
i was "going at it" with jill, while teli sucked on her breasts. this would
have been fine, except that teli is a virgin. he has no scope of what he's
doing. he's almost afraid of sex, even. jill was enjoying herself, not so
much because of what was going on, but just because of the idea of it all.
afterwards, teli went home. he never really progressed farther than breasts,
which was just fine with all of us. jill & i sat there and reflected on it -
- it was a pretty disgusting event that was not going to be repeated.
my "every other week" slut has (hopefully) been removed from my life. it was
fun for awhile, nobody got hurt.. no point in that, though.
hah!
hah!
we've got lots of computers at work (thanks to me). i'm standing here typing
you this letter on one, and when i run out of things to say, i sit down at
the desk behind me and do the trendy thing, "surf the internet". that's
right, the "information superhighway", the "infobahn".. the big buzzword for
technology.
anyway - - it's got it's amusing side. people (mostly college students) have
this warped sense of humor that always makes me laugh. someone was written a
computerized "magic eightball", where you ask it the question, it thinks
about it, and shows you a pretty picture of the eightball with your answer in
the center.
so, after i wrote the first few lines up there ^^, i asked it "will m & i
ever 'get together'?" and went back to writing. i just turned around and
looked, and there's the eightball saying, "most likely".
blah, blah, blah.
i don't trust machines anyway.
i bought the new siouxsie single, "stargazer". it's in a pretty foldout case
with lots of sparkles. haven't listened to it yet - - i probably should.
overpriced imports.
well, it sounds.. hmmm. that twangy folk guitar.. hmm.. yeeeek! it sounds
like a trendy alternative song. it sounds like "beck"! yow!
the box sure is pretty..
i like your letters, actually. i like the ink and the paper and writing by
hand and all that. it's very honest, very genuine. i imagine my letters are
more mechanical looking, very cold and forbidding. maybe they look nice, but
i still think they're not as "real" as handwritten ones. i'd write by hand,
but it just isn't fast enough.
i think i actually found a plan for the future. i was fairly impressed with
myself. it isn't much, you know, but it's something.
..fix the car so that it's actually usable by humans ..save some money ..move
to a cheap studio up around essex/hudson county ..get temp work in the city
three days a week ..work the record store the other four to pay rent/food
..worm my way into a decent place in the city ..drop the record store ..work
your life away, but atleast live closer to the city
what a plan.
i found a realty guide somewhere, the apartments up there really are pretty
cheap. yay.
i just found a list of 150 different ways to refer to a condom. the best, in
my opinion is either "child proof lid" or (i love this one) "mister log's sex
hat." you be the judge.
i'm telling you, that sure is a pretty box for that siouxsie single..
we're selling nasty nasty incense here now, and it stinks up the place.
somebody decided to name them horrible things, like "sex on the beach". just
hideous.
mister log's sex hat. hahahah.
i hope you're well, physically and emotionally and all. maybe i'll see you
someday, who knows?
i went to the bank last friday (day before the snow storm) to see how things
had changed. i quickly realized they hadn't. same faces, same music, same
everything. well, ok, a few new faces, but all the same old ones, too.
maybe i do need to be "free" of jill. i really need to get out more,
experience people and things. i don't know why it matters, because i can't
picture myself falling in love with anyone anymore - i think i manage to kill
the "magic" whenever i see it starting.
it's a waste, that's all. they all go to pieces when they open their mouths.
they all do, don't they? they look so quiet, so shy.. like they've got
something special deep down there in them. and then they speak, and you see
your error.
the thing that really amazes me, is that i gave you my phone number when i
was completely sober. and just right out and gave it to you, even. it's
usually some kind of a big drunken game, beating around the bush until
closing time.
i'm such a bastard, aren't i? standing here at night with ugly shoes and blue
jeans and cold hands, judging people. i'm just a bastard.
anyway: you haven't fallen apart yet, and you keep speaking. i don't know
exactly what this means, but it's a special thing that i'd like to hold on to
for awhile, so don't up and spontaneously combust or anything, ok? ok.
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02/10/95
fuck me
fuck my worthlessness
i don't want you
i don't need you
strong in my isolation
(keep telling yourself that)
oh god
i'm dying and
i'm calling your name?
why?
why?
what's come over me?
intoxication and fear
perhaps?
the lonely
the desperation
the starvation for touch
i've killed them all
killed them
splintered
split
nothingness before me
save me
oh god, please
you understand
don't you?
don't you?
you understand the lonely
the decay?
take me away from all this
somewhere safe
secure
hold me
for this last time
please
you're so far away
miles and miles and forever away
i'm alone in this darkness
so alone
so alone
and i'm afraid of myself
anywhere
anywhere
please
take it away
make me yours
whole again
make me feel
make me weep
make me live
make me breathe real air again
recycled thoughts and
romances
brink of devastation
please
anything
anything
anything i can get
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