bigDumbAlien

Friday - nothing
Saturday - odawas show at second story...too much drink
Sunday - scary hangover
Monday - fallout

so dave and kelly come down to go to the odawas show at second story. it was cool of them to come down. as the night went on it became abundantly clear to me .......fuck it...i don’t know what the hell i’m talking about....i’m so full of shit and so fucking helpless. we’re all helpless. i guess the trick it to look like you have control of your shit and look good while doing it. kelly seems to be a great girl and i don’t know if i will ever know what it is like to be in the presence (and heart, mind) of someone like that. there were some moments Friday nite where i felt like a big dumb alien.....from a distance it looked like a good looking couple with some blurry faced freak being shown the ins and outs of life on earth.....like the fucking elephant man or something. but i’m caring less and less.....my theory of self is developing, evolving into a premise of: this is me, this is who i am, and i do not care. i don’t know...maybe all of these theories are like most everything else...bullshit. there are some of us who are fucked, fragile pieces of flesh. we wake up every day and try to apply a new theory/approach to deal with who we are and the world we live in. we do this for days, weeks, years but are oblivious to the one fact that glares at us like our own dumb reflection: none of these theories work. so why cant i simply BE? why cant i be like the tree in the forest and simply exist? i suppose i achieve this level existence from time to time but a bulk of my waking moments are occupied with being disappointed/depressed and trying to achieve more or gain some ground or something. but all i want is love. i want to share my space in my corner of the world with someone and LIVE....BE.....FIGHT....FUCK.. ..LOVE...SHARE......CREATE......EXPLODE.....TOUCH. so much and so little (and so far away). i’m reminded of the scene from born on the 4th of July in which ron kovic breaks down and asks, “who’s going to love me? who’s ever going to love me?” different cripples....same sentiment.

mc