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BACK DOOR BOY IN A FRONT DOOR WORLD
OUTSIDE OF SOCIETY - THAT'S WHERE I WANT TO BE
Random Thoughts 
13th-Apr-2003 01:28 am
It is completely fitting that Hannibal would have a Dean & Deluca lunchbox for the plane trip, and that he would agree with the little boy that the food served on the plane was inedible. I also thought it befitting that he would strike an immediate rapport with the child, being that the child hadn't garnered any life experience to become rude or careless enough to make of himself, categorically, a meal.

"I think I was wrong, I think you were right...
And all my angry words keep me up at night."


This beer tastes really good, I only wished I had something really spicy like Korean or Thai food to go along with it. And fresh lychees. And a Percocet. MMMMM......

"But I can't help the feeling
I could blow through the ceiling
If I just turn and run "


I feel it is almost impossible to achieve (let alone sustain) anything resembling joy lately. What I think is happy is really fleeting in my head - except for the things that remain a constant. I suppose I'm dissatisfied with life as it is now. Don't take it personally you-know-who, I'm not even talking about you and besides - I've already told you that you worry too much. I chalk this all up to the change of seasons and my allergies, the weather being inconsistent and downright disagreeable, and the fact that I've had painfully illustrated yet again my belief that there are no absolutes and conversely few accidents.

"Long ago and not so far away
I fell in love with you before the second show
Your guitar it sounds so sweet and clear
But you're not really here, it's just the radio"


Today I walked down the field of memory that exists somewhere in my head, and revisited places that I remembered as the happier points of what passed for a childhood. Yeah, I know, my childhood sucked - so did yours, blah blah fucking blah... It's an old story and an even older exercise in self indulgence to glorify it. Thing is, if I spend any amount of time recalling what good things I can retrieve from my past, they get convoluted with the things that were... What were they... Twisted? Horrifying? Who can say. Sometimes I think the stuff I carry around of my past, if for no other reason than because out of habit I don't know what else to do with it, I don't keep for the juxtaposition of my happier days. I'm aware of it, but it feels like it is someone else. I'm completely disconnected, even though I'm aware of most of it. I say this having posted just this morning about what a good mood I was in. That's one of the many pluses of being bi-polar/manic depressive, though - you have one high, and you forget the low that's coming. But believe me, that bitch is in the mail somewhere. You're licking the stamp for it and you don't even know it because you're too "up" and "happy".

"You got a fast car
I want a ticket to anywhere
Maybe we make a deal
Maybe together we can get somewhere "


Waiting To Exhale was on tonight before Hannibal, it was like getting a visit from a friend you haven't seen in a while who just breezes in and buys you a drink and then ZZIIIPPP!!.... they're gone again. Kind of a let down when the credits roll and your friend is gone again. Feels like the days after someone close to you dies and your reaction to life going on is less than pleased. As if the earth absolutely must stop to mark the occaision. As if that weren't selfish in light of the things we are emotionally immune to most days anyway.

"Just before our love got lost, you said
'I am as constant as the Northern Star."
And I said, "Constantly in the darkness
Where's that at?
If you want me I'll be in the bar.'"


I know many of God's faithfully devout. I love some of them, and some have even garnered my respect. I love them, yet I wholly despise what they believe. Remember, kids - even Jesus hates the sin but loves the sinner! Don't look at me like that, I didn't make it up. Each and every time I hear someone speak to me about God these days, I want to show them the video of the people falling from the World Trade Center and ask them where the fuck their almighty loving savior was that day, or anyday someone suffers for that matter. "It's all His plan!" they offer, like that's supposed to be anything near a valid answer.

"You are the sun
I am the moon
You are the words
I am the tune
Play me..."



Man, I'd give anything to right now be sitting at a bar with no one else around, a bottle of Glenlivet scotch, a Baccarat highball glass with two cubes of ice in it, a fresh pack of Camel Wides, and a silver Zippo. And a jukebox playing nothing but the songs whose lyrics are being dissected throughout this post. I want God to be real, and I want him to come into the bar and sit next to me so I can spit in his face and then give him my bar tab so I can say "You owe me more than this, but it's a decent start." and then walk out feeling better.


"I'll be yours until the sun doesn't shine
Till time stands still
Until the winds don't blow.
When today is just a memory to me,
I know
I'll still be lovin' you."
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