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| There Ain't No Justice |
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| #106 |
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- Going Crazy in the Suburbs 08: -
"insist that nothing happened -
try to cling to sanity"
by Hairy
yea, i'm at work.. but it's only about 9:30, so things are a little
different, at least.
listening to skinny puppy and feeling not quite as miserable as i did this
morning. i guess i've been flirty with the overweight "i really want to be
goth even though i'm not" girl who works here. no jill today - thank god.
blah, blah, blah.
i was standing here yesterday with jill being a bitch to me. i was not in,
shall we say, a pleasant mood. i was concious of the fact that the alternator
was about to fall off of my car, though, and that i shouldn't go anywhere of
any great distance before fixing it. jill's best friend brenda came to
"visit" and look down her nose at me, which (naturally) made me feel much
better about everything. her friends seem to have some hatred of me, because
i'm taking their precious little angel from them.
anyway -
jill left with brenda after work, which is typical. when there's a choice
between two people, me or someone else, i always end up with the short end.
whatever -
i felt like going out and getting drunk. i felt like drinking many bad things
and writing. i felt like staring at the bartender with the big bleached hair.
i wanted to get so low, so low.. walk up to someone, and tell them something
along the lines of, "i'm drunk, i'm miserable, let's fall in love tonight."
well, it almost happened. i got up to around newark airport before the
alternator completely fell off the fucking car. lots of big mechanical
grinding noises, whining rubber belts.. it was a bad scene. me wearing a
skirt and tailcoat, lots of makeup.. bad, bad, bad. i pulled off at the
nearest exit, which was (supposedly) newark. it turned out to be a "t-n-t"
truck dispatch yard, an overpass, and a seafood restaurant. there was a road
that led to newark, but no sign of intelligent life. i wandered around the
street looking for a gas station or garage - found nothing. i ended up
finding an old pair of workboots, though, and used the boot laces to tie the
alternator back on the car. (yay, ingenuity.) drove the crippled thing back
home at 40 miles an hour.. the joy.. waaa.
i don't know, i don't know what's going on. you should ignore the
poem/prose/freeform nonsense/shit that's after this, because i wrote it when
i was (naturally) drunk, and in a state of emotional disrepair (read:
normality.) i know you have your whole relationship thing, i'm not going to
touch that (as if i could, anyway).
"kept out of sight,
where i belong"
why'd i give you my phone number when i was completely sober? i don't really
know - maybe i was feeling important and unstopable that night, who knows?
maybe i was trying to pick you up - imagine that.
honestly, all i know is that i was standing in the middle of the floor,
staring up at the stage, and you and your friend pushed by me, heading
towards the back. i looked down to see what the jostling was, and i saw you
staring up into my eyes. there was just something about it, i don't know - i
don't know - i just knew i wanted to meet you. maybe it was those eyes, maybe
they tell stories..
listen to me go - whooo, boy.
i'm freezing to death at the store. the car's outside waiting for it to be
monday. it's a real mess, but not as bad as my other car. this one can almost
be driveable, with minor repairs. not bad for $450, i guess.
i hate my fucking job - i want out of here, i want out of here, i want out of
here. i just realized this the other day, how i loathe most everyone i work
with.. i'm more than willing to steal from the store, something i'd never
even think of before. i just don't care..
read this quote the other day. something like, "life is agony for those who
allow themselves to feel." i don't know why i'm telling you that, but i am.
so there.
here, try this one instead: "it's so hard to find work; all i can do is mope
the floors and depress the buttons."
so, it's not "mister log's sex hat," but it should still be good for a laugh.
oh, and if you don't have a mister log? then i guess it's a "mister twig".. i
don't know, i just relay this shit to you.
i've found lots of pretty digitized pictures to use as background. how nice.
being i've run out of things to say (and mainly because i found a pretty
black box), i've started throwing stupid little trinkets together to give to
you. they're useless things, mind you.
of course, i guess you know all about this by now, seeing as how i'm going to
put this letter in the pretty little black box with the trinkets.
anyway - some of them have a little hidden symbolism, most of them don't.
it's probably not too hard to figure out. little black heart.. i mean, we're
not little children, are we? no..
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ok - i'm at work and i'm incredibly bored (and cold). so i'm going to catalog
all these wonderful gifts and their origins and everything. it'll be just
like a history lesson. oooh!
-> siouxsie and the banshees new album review
nothing important here, just found it in the back of "spin" and
thought it was funny.
-> "jesus loves you" yo-yo
half tripped over it two years ago while walking along the side of
the road. sat in my drawer for the entire time i've owned it.
still haven't put a string on it.
-> worry bag (little grey pouch with the string)
something my mother picked up in virginia, i think. if you open it,
it's got little people in it. you're supposed to take all the people
out, and give them each one of your worries. then you're supposed to
put the bag under your pillow and go to sleep.
-> "i'm so miserable since you've gone.." ad
found it in "spin", too. reminds me of jill. a lot. maybe i should
keep it for myself.
-> kid with man head flyer
i get this shit all the time. i don't know why. they're a shitty
little pearl jam wanna-be band. cute little story, tho.
-> picture of the meat isle at grand union
i used to go out to supermarkets at those "ungodly" hours and take
photos. i don't know why, but it was something to do. i've
grown out of it.
-> picture with a lot of white at the top
that's me. the whiteness is my crisp white t-shirt. the
blueness underneath it is - you guessed it - my gap jeans. and then
there's my feet.. muahahaha.. this is an old photo, when i wasn't fat
and dark-haired.
-> "the video dugout" laminated business card
when i was a sophomore, a college girl came in and taught our english
class for a few months. she's the only person in my entire
school who could comprehend what i was about. we sat and had long
talks, she made me realize i wasn't the only miserable freak in the
world.
-> allstate insurance card
self-explanatory..?
-> "hello - my name is" sticker
i stole this out of the supply room when i was in eighth
grade, but i never used it. i never used any of them. god knows why i
took them in the first place.
-> one official "gap" extra button
just in case.. you know..
-> shoprite i.d. badge
my first "real" job, which was forced upon me after i received a
hefty nine hundred dollar fine for my first "real" crime.
-> peppermint of dubious origin
it's been on my dresser for months. i'm tired of looking at it.
-> two ticket stubs
found them in the pocket of my tailcoat after i bought it. i didn't
realize the coat was so old.
-> "i'm with stupid" button
no emotional attachment that i can think of.
-> assorted black plastic critters
more things i'm tired of looking at.
-> little electronic thing-a-ma-jig
well, ok. go to radio shack and buy a "pocket tone dialer".
business types use them to store their phone numbers. take it apart,
and unsolder the similar looking electronic thing-a-ma-jig inside,
and replace it with this one. turn it on. press the "*" key
five times. ever put a quarter in the telephone and listen? sounds
- amazingly* similar. so similar, in fact, that i don't pay for many
telephone calls..
-> orange squiggly worm
i went on "vacation" on long beach island a few summers ago, with my
(then) girlfriend beth. we won this (wow!) at some arcade.
-> three fingernails (do not eat)
homegrown. pasteurized. homogenized.
-> "i just can't get enough" button
sounds nice - i'd never wear it.
-> brass colored token with the "t" on it
from the "t" (subway) in boston. i ventured up there about three
years ago (?) to meet a girl i had been writing to for a year or so.
melysa. she promptly moved to oregon and went to reed college, i
never heard from her again. jill reminded me of her when i
first met jill, maybe i should've.. well, whatever.
-> three negatives
look closely. you'll see.. "olga's diner".. a water tower with a
smiley face on it.. a little monkey holding up a big sign..
-> piece of paper that says "detach"
stub from a money order. i forgot what i was paying for. i hate
banks, so use lots of money orders.
-> little plastic gun
let it litter your drawers, i'm sick of it.
-> soda can ring
rule number 1: always keep atleast one "free fuck" on hand.
-> little black heart
no explanation needed.
-> ticket stub to some movie
i bet you just don't see enough of these as it is.
-> big red "die" sticker
i like it. you should like it, too.
-> drug mart
$23 for a little tube of fucking white cream! what a sham. what a
ripoff.
-> weird looking thing with a ring on the end
this is from my first relationship fuck-up. after awhile, the girl
said i'd "won the key to her heart". she had this little heart
pendant she always wore. anyway - she gave me this little skeleton
key (real cheap jewelry) on a necklace, and i was supposed to
wear it. well, i broke the fucking thing in two. not once, but twice.
i love my luck.
bleh.
i feel like shit. i'm still at work. i got miserable as soon as jill came in
- i don't know why. i was in a pretty good mood.
i've met some girl named "nancy" (yow, my mother's name) and i'm going to end
up breaking her heart. she's very sweet, very innocent. i'm going to hurt
her, but i'm probably not going to be big enough to do anything to prevent
it.
it's nice that i met her, though. she's refreshing. very.. real, i guess.
she's not a fashion slave, not some sort of.. let's put it this way: she's
the opposite of brittany.
seventeen, though. really scary. i feel like a dirty old man.
maybe i should duck out of existence for awhile longer.
this letter probably seems rehashed. i didn't plan on talking to you on the
phone. i went off and told you all about the dead car (my one big story) and
flattened the letter. sob, sob.
i haven't read your book. i will, though, i promise.
i keep my promises.
i hate my job, i hate the people i work with. i think i'm going to apply at
some cheesy mailorder computer warehouse down the street. they're open
twenty-four hours a day, maybe i can find a home in the darkness. if i can
get $7 an hour, i 'll do any sick perverted thing you can think of.
i'd be more than happy irradiating myself in the darkness while assembling
computers i can't afford.
la, la, la.
maybe i should close my eyes fall in love with this girl nancy maybe maybe i
should just close my eyes forever
la, la, la.
maybe i'll call you tonight. i'm lonely as hell.
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going crazy at work again.. i can't stand this place. i'm really fed up with
all of it.. the tedium, working with you know who.. waa.
atleast siouxsie is tomorrow.. we (nancy, her friend liz & i) will probably
end up going to either the bank or the batcave after the show.. that should
be refreshing. i've been trying to put an end to going out so often. (partly
because of tom's childishness, partly because i know if i go out i'll end up
meeting other people and.. well, i don't really want to meet anyone else
right now..) so, anyway, it should cap it off pretty well. one last "hoorah"
for a while.
somebody's listening to "it'll end in tears" and it's putting me to sleep.
got another insurance bill today. yay. still owe citibank $1200..
my teeth hurt. they've hurt since the night before last. varying degrees of
agony, but they hurt all the same. very troubling. very annoying.
hand's doing well, but all the dead skin peeling off makes me think that
maybe, just maybe, my body is rejecting it. maybe it's flaking off all the
layers between the surface and the ring. who knows? i can't really tell that
it's moved any, and it seems fairly well healed (it's been three and a half
weeks). no pain, no swelling.. just the regular ooze and the dead skin. mmmm.
i'll go see the piercer on saturday, probably. nancy & i are going to make an
effort to go find "domsey's warehouse" in new york. lots of thrifty used
clothing, supposedly. we'll see, we'll see.
i should go out for food. i should get out of this fucking 3000 square foot
coffin for a little while.
teli got laid. yay teli. you don't know who he is, but that's alright. he's
20, and deathly afraid of disease. he never even masturbated until he was 19.
well, anyway, he met his woman. "woman," because she's 30, divorced, and has
two ten year old children.. go teli, go studboy. he met her at the limelight
a few weeks ago. she doesn't speak english, so he got to flex his spanish
skills. when asked for his opinions of the experience, he said, "i put it in
and thought, 'hey, i like this.'"
::sigh::
i haven't written shit, i haven't done shit. i'm "marking time."
..k-k-k-ken, coming to k-k-k-kill me..
well, this has been another half-stab at a real letter. sorry. i'll include
moderatly interesting filler to try and make up for it.
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you don't exist in this house
this stroboscopic disillusion
stumbling towards emptiness
towards the daylight
don't lie to me
don't play these games
big emotions
(fear)
big thoughts
(self-destruct)
can't quite understand
what you're saying
swaying
to and fro
swaying
in and out of conciousness
don't leave me here
in this corrosive element
whenever you're ready
just take me away
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grim embers
uncontained
souls on fire
in the dark
kiss your crown
kiss your glory
master
slave
no good deeds done today
love saunters off in bitterness
oh
it's you again
don't cheat me this time
give me all of it
all of it
now
depression
isolation
love loss
give me the desolation
you know how it drives me
pushes
forgotten limits
reality of excess
disjointed smile
beauty snarls
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hey
hey you
can you hear me
over there in all that
tainted happiness
intoxication
taking control
taking away
already fleeting memories
time
space
reality
tick
tick
tick
red alcohol
and bliss
take it away
baby
soft skin
delicate
fragile
i'll rape you and
all you know
splinter it
take it all apart
my breath is poison
kiss me
fuck me
let me give you my disease
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lost night
lost it in the alcohol
the numbness
the bzzzzzzzz
they're finally playing my song
so late
so dark
so what
"i need a drink
i need a drink now
i need to feed these sinking dreams"
it's too bad
we can't cooperate
participate in unison
in the pursuit of bliss
my soul got lost
lost in the departure
lost in the disentigration
strobes against the touch
flashing skin
coldness
lack of words
lack of thoughts and
feelings
crept away into something
something i can't comprehend
not anymore
no reasoning
no more
salvation lives
in a five dollar glass
plus tip
plus tip, baby
refridgerated landscapes
my silent vigil
over nothing
frozen waste
close it all down
turn the key
stale ashes
can you feel it?
can you feel it yet?
that's my heart
darling
caving in on itself
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saw me
saw me, did you?
wonder just what you saw
what registered in those eyes
beautiful?
beautiful..
mmmmm
what a charmer
what a sweetheart
you just wait, dear
you just wait
i'm no beauty
i'm just waste
rotten rotten waste
not anything
anything
you'd want to look at
by the way
by the way
i'm very happy
what do you mean
you can't tell?
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try and be sensible
in the dark
flesh
legs and other things
look
look but don't touch
rotten emotions
plastic surroundings
make me feel
make me feel again
surprised i haven't wretched
heaved up those feelings
of despair
of anger
of intolerance
dance for me
twist and writhe
beneath the lights and
my weighted stares
eat you alive, baby
eat you alive
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here i am again
not particularly drunk or unhappy
listening to things
life shifts around me
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she makes me
so
so
fucking sick
don't know why
something about her
laughing
her
mocking
her
fucking orange hair - -
just go away
baby
just go
away from me
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nothing to say
just soap opera lifestyles
just nothing
quoth the raven,
"you need some melanin,
man
you paler than a motherfuck."
i love my job.
i love my job.
i love my job.
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i'm at work on a monday. mondays are supposed to be my days off. i'm here
anyway. the boss just bought a new house, and he's shuffled the regular guy
off to rip up the deck on the house. thus, i get to work.
nancy and i are happy, most of the time. she's suicidal. really, she's got
scars all over her arms - - what a gal. anyway, she understands me to some
degree, so i can't complain about anything.
jill bothers me. jill's very fucking existence bothers me. i love her (in a
now friendly.. or maybe fatherly way) but at the same time i hate her, hate
every bit of her.
needless to say, i'm on the lookout for a new and exciting career
opportunity.
nancy and i seem to go "clubbing" together now, or atleast most nights, so
nothing productive ever gets written when i'm out. she really does make me
happy, but i'm sure that will fade soon enough.
doesn't everything?
mmm.
nothing much to say, really. just got your letter. you seem as bored as i am.
i ran over a guy on a motorcycle. dumb fucker. he deserved it. twisted his
bike all to pieces. he should look for oncoming traffic before he decides to
zoom out of the gas station..
so i get twenty eight pieces of mail a day, most all of them from the
insurance companies..
jill's hair is.. well, it reminds me of the color your anus becomes when it
gets very inflamed.. it appalls me to look at her.
we (nancy & i) are off to boston this weekend. i'm going to be very arrogant
at manray and see if i can get hit on. fun, fun, fun.
more than likely, we'll just lay around some hotel room for three days and
have lots of sex.
tell me - tell me, why is it that the girls i get involved with, they can't
have orgasms? eh? why..? and they're all italians, too. why is that, eh?
nancy's previous boyfriend was a guy named tom. tom didn't take the whole
"breaking up" process too well. he goes out all the time, too, so we get this
great little bit of nastiness most nights.
here's a fun story, though. tom feels that i "stole" nancy away from him.
that's fine and good. so, tom gets a whammy.
it's been about a month or so now, and he's starting to get ahold of himself
again. he met some girl named "kate" at the bank a week or so ago, and was
supposed to meet her there this past friday.
i went out friday, wearing my $150 black corset. wheeeeee.
anyway, kate (who i didn't know anything about at the time) kept staring at
me. tom and i talked later, he explained how he didn't hate me personally,
just that.. well, this part is obvious. generic soap opera drivel.
anyhow.. kate sees us talking, and she's all over tom, grilling him for
information about *me*. "he's so beautiful.." she swooned.
so, tom gets the double-whammy from me.
i feel bad for him, really. he's a sweet guy. he's a pussywhipped asskisser,
but he's still a sweet guy.
blah, blah, blah.
it doesn't rain, it pours.
i've got jill, nancy, kate, some girl i met friday named laura, another laura
from around my general area, yvonne, beth.. i feel like i should be issuing
numbers. who cares. i don't want any of them. fuck them. i'm happy with
nancy, we'll see how things go.
la, la, la.
i'm bored and i hate my job.
hey, let's have sex.
whatever. justin.
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so, you like letters, eh?
here's the story: friday night, nancy & i drove to boston. however, we missed
a crucial turn, and ended up driving to within 75 miles of montreal before we
realized our error. fun, fun, fun. it took us a total of about 7 1/2 hours to
get to boston, finally. we got all decked out and went to manray, only to
discover that it was one of those alternating "21 and over" fridays. we went
to burger king and sulked. we went back to the motel and fucked. etc..
saturday morning, we got up and ventured into the city for amusement. we
found little. the people were all so damned nice.. it made us both
uncomfortable. together, we're about as cynical and sarcastic as it's
possible to be, and all that damned nicety.. it was just too much. we went
back to the motel, fucked, went back to sleep.
late that evening, we got up and tried for manray again, even though it was
the "retro 80's dance party". we looked like hell. and the club sucked. we
went back to the motel..
sunday we drove back to her house in ridgewood, to discover my car had a flat
tire. still, seeking fun, we drove into the city and got my right hand
pierced at andromeda. ouch! - but i'm enjoying my new toy. "nevermind the
tire," we thought, "we'll deal with that later." we drove back to my house,
snuggled, slept..
monday afternoon we trekked out to sizzler for that snazzy salad bar. between
trips to the jello bowl, we tried to think of something to do. we ended up
driving to philadelphia, being utterly bored and tired, and promptly driving
back to my house..
at about 5am on tuesday morning, we got up and drove back to her house. she
attended school, while i loafed around with one useless limb. i ended up
changing my tire with my one good hand, going to barnes & noble for a few
hours.. she came back from school, more snuggling, some sticky candy.. i
left, drove home, went back to sleep.
i don't remember wednesday, even though that was yesterday..?
today's thursday, and i'm at work again. my hand is working much better, even
though it still doesn't bend all the ways it once did.
oh, i remember wednesday.. that was the day when i had to go down to the
police station for questioning. it seems two houses in my general area had
been burglarized, and some women's clothing was taken. well - i was recently
stopped in north jersey by a nice officer, while i was coming home from the
bank. i was terribly uncomfortable, and i had stripped my skirt and corset
off and thrown them in the seat beside me. the officer (a real
straight-laced, apple pie kind of joe) tried to think up different ways to
ask me if i had been doing any narcotics recently..
anyway, because there were some women's clothes in the car, and because i
live so close to the victim's houses.. you get the picture. so, anyway, i had
to creep down to the police department, armed with 'ghastly' and 'propaganda'
backissues to support my lifestyle.. fun, fun, fun.
nothing else has been happening.
really - honest.
this is a little bit of the "telephone" game, but.. tom told nancy, and nancy
told me.. that tom felt christine (i guess that was her name?) and you were
both hitting on him. i told her that i doubted you'd be doing that sort of
thing, but anyway..
my life is one big soap opera lately. waaaa.
i'm at work and jill's playing "screamin' jay hawkins". make it stop, make it
stop.
i owe everyone in the world money, because i've been going nuts lately. $1100
on the credit card, $13 parking ticket, $70 on the "tab" at work, $120 for
the car insurance, $20 for the phone.. and get this.. $140 and two warrants
for my arrest because i neglected to pay two tickets. "failure to inspect my
vehicle" and "failure to put the front license plate on".
wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.
all that money, and i've got this burning urge to go buy a $250 pair of thigh
high women's boots for myself (not those silly patent leather stiletto jobs,
either.. nice ones) and a $1000 '69 chevy nova. black with lots of chrome..
ironically, the only suggestion the spelling check has for "manray" is
"manure". heee-heee-heee.
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