Friendly people are fine
I suppose
but sometimes their friendliness
goes a little too far
to the point where they apologize
for everything
and are hyper-sensitive
to the idea that they may have somehow offended you
they're like those stereotypical
ancient arabian retainers
who bow after every sentence
plastering a giant grin or grimace on their face
and saying
"A thousand pardons, effendi,"
or
"A thousand thanks".
the main reason I dislike these sort of people
aside from their bluntly annoying behavior
is because I know that once I've left the room
they'll be the first ones to damn me
to criticize me
to spit at the mention of my name
though they'll grin
and smile
and act concerned
when they meet me again
they'll even endeavor to act interested
in things they have no interest in
which is an awfully hard thing to do
they seem to treat their girlfriends/boyfriends
wives or husbands
with the disrespect they wish they had the courage
to show their friends
and worst of all
they habitually ask
"are you okay?
you look a little down.
is anything wrong?
can i do anything to help?"
then, when I answer snidely, they act shocked
offended that I would be so rude to their kind offer
Jesus
I just want to tell them to jump off a bridge
but maybe I've got a little of their sickness too
because I never do
I just smile and nod
and hope that they'll go away soon
maybe when I'm older I'll be heartless enough
not to put up with them any more
but heartless isn't the right word
because they're the heartless ones
heartless and soulless
and totally empty.

(I remember, when I was in elementary school
looking at people and trying to imagine
what it would be like to be them
to have to go to their house every single day
and to have to live through their lives
it always made me uncomfortable
I was always glad, of every single person I had ever met,
to have been born myself over any of them
it makes me glad to realize
that I had such an acute sense of things
even then)

A lot of people have funny ideas about evolution
we aren't going to grow another pair of arms
or an extra joint somewhere
I mean, how the hell would that sneak up on us?
just wake up one morning with an extra ear?
anything like that will be so far into the future
that hypothesizing about it becomes fairly pointless
I'll tell you what evolution really is:
from the second floor of my house I can always tell
whether the television on the third floor is turned on or off
regardless of its volume
I can hear the buzz that it makes
the low static hiss in the back of my head
with perfect accuracy
my brother can too
but my parents can't
there's evolution for you
not the miraculous acquisition of new skills
but the honing of existing skills
as they become relevant to everyday life
it's not something that I have any control over
it's an innate skill that I have developed
and, actually, not a particularly useful one
but there's another kind of evolution
the real evolution
the kind that everyone has complete control over
the evolution of ideas
the ability to take the things you learn
and, as you learn them, or at some point thereafter,
to put them into their proper place
in your hierarchy of knowledge about the world
to be able to build on that knowledge
rather than to embrace each new theory, philosophy or idea
by throwing away all of your previous groundwork
you just have to think about things
to have ideas and become certain that they are right
not through a process of dogmatic self-brainwashing
but by testing them
constantly
don't relax too much
stay a little tense
experience life, pay attention to what's happening
and watch where you're going
before you stop moving altogether
it's odd, to be given life
and then to lose it
in the short span of a human lifetime
but if seventy, eighty years aren't enough
then what is?
two-hundred?
two-thousand?
two-million?
nope.
not enough.
it would never be enough.
so use what you have
don't ignore death, but don't ignore your problems either
because death means the end of your problems
but problems
and the solutions to those problems
mean life.

I sit at my parents' computer
giving spur-of-the-moment titles to poems
that I had never intended to name
I'm listening to Tool
a few minutes into Third Eye
when the house suddenly goes dark
I hear a rustling that sounds like rain
and look outside
the trees are swaying
leaves are spinning in miniature tornadoes
no one else is around
a sudden rumble of thunder shakes the air
I feel a force draw me up
and I turn the volume on my CD player to full
as I walk out to the front porch of my house
the music follows me
joined by the crazed jingling of wind chimes
thunder strikes suddenly
and I see its reflection in the half closed window of my mother's car
the song kicks into gear at that exact same moment
Maynard singing loudly, with my voice as backup
the wind and traffic nearly drown us both out
my bones, my skin, my blood
my whole body knows what's coming
I step outside, feeling the warm sidewalk
almost hot under my bare feet
I notice more lightning
and stop to stare at the sky.
from somewhere
deep and unseen
thunder rumbles again
loud and slow
making the inside of my head shudder
I walk to the car and roll up the windows
just as fat drops of rain start to drop on the earth
some smack my skin
making small sounds of impact
I walk to the sidewalk
the blood in my feet dancing between the warmth of the concrete
and the cold of the water splashing around them
suddenly, the rain's intensity doubles
smashing down on the world
I raise my arms as it grows harder
already soaked beyond all hope of salvation
and I laugh
people watch me as they drive by in their cars
not as if I'm crazy
but as if they wish
that they were me
soon I can barely keep my eyes open
so I retreat back into the porch
the earth has gone crazy
nature has gone insane
and I wish that I could die right now
in the rain
because I have no interest in ever seeing the world again
if it's not like this.

There are faces that I love to look at
full of life and happiness
certainty and pride
smiling or just being generally content
but always angry
at just the right times
there are voices I love to listen to
as they speak
directly or not
about goals
and ideas, life
and the act of creation
they fill me
feeding my mind
spurning me on to make things of my own
and when I glance in the mirror
my face is one of theirs
perfect in its tranquility
I love to watch it
my eyes smiling with the knowledge
of what I will do in this life
as soon as I stop staring
as soon as I'm ready to re-enter the world.

Maybe there is a devil on this earth
I know it sounds preposterous
but who else could be the one
telling people that to be humble is a virtue?
or that the meek shall inherit the earth?
who tells them that it is a sin to love oneself
more than others?
turn the other cheek, the devil says
whereas I say
if somebody punches you in the eye
you don't offer them the other one
you punch them straight back
just as hard as they punched you
or else they'll keep punching you
every chance they get
somebody's teaching everyone to lie down
to take what life gives them
and to never get angry about anything
I only wish that it was one single being
how tough could the devil be anyway?
if he gave me shit, I'd just punch him in the eye
no, it's this intangible idea
that's plagued our society for far too long
the concept of the ego has been twisted
to the point where it only describes insecure loudmouths
who like to boss other people around
the devil's got the ego's voodoo doll
and he's sticking pins in it
one
at a
time.

Princess Di died the other day
and I was really upset
you know why?
because she didn't fucking matter.
no more than any other lady who died on that day
for awhile I was downright furious
at how blind everyone could be
(and it really did seem that it was everyone, at that point
she'd been on every god-damned channel for days)
so I decided to write about it.
I was so pissed off that my original draft
ended like this:

"If you think that I shouldn't say these things
about a poor dead lady
even after sitting down and thinking real hard
about why it is that you love her in the first place,
then throw this book against the wall
tear it to pieces
burn it
then send me what's left
and I'll give you a full refund
because I don't need your shit
I don't even want you to read this book
not another word, ever again
fuck you, and fuck your mindless celebrity worship."

I'm only repeating it here 'cause I chuckled to myself after I wrote it
but I lost my conviction, somehow
too many people had already pegged me as a worthless scum
for my day to day comments on her death
so the idea got stalled
and for a while I let things be.

Then I tried to write again
this time I decided to be real objective about the whole thing
I decided that I'd write
about people's perception of celebrities in general
rather than inflame anyone's tender emotions
by focusing on any particular target
but that didn't get very far either.
I just couldn't summon the drive to get the thing done
I couldn't stand behind my own words
because I simply didn't care to do a sterile essay
on the relationship between celebrities and the masses
so, once again, I gave up.

A little while later, Mother Theresa died
my mom told me that she turned to CNN
shortly after hearing the news
and was informed that coverage of Mother Theresa's death
wouldn't start for an hour
because they were busy with Di's funeral
and even then they wanted to mop it up quick
to catch the funeral's aftermath
this didn't even register with me fully at first
I just wouldn't let it
I started dropping the joke to people at the comic store
that Mother Theresa sure did pick the wrong week to die
and they all agreed with me
people understood the situation
but everybody was keeping quiet
because of the sobbing, vocal majority
(minority? who can tell?)
that had infested the information waves
I turned things over in my head for some time
but I still couldn't muster up the courage to initiate a one man battle
against almost everyone on the planet.

Then I heard some of Bill Hicks' stand-up.

Those of you who have heard it are aware of the implications
Bill Hicks was a comedian
he died in 1994
and his albums are some of the greatest things I've ever heard
after listening to them my fire was re-ignited
my good sense was returned to me, and then some
I was reminded that there is nothing more important
than presenting the truth as I find it
so I'm going to lay down some facts
and you're going to have to absorb them
if you're any sort of a healthy person, this will be easy
because I won't be telling you anything that you don't already know
Princess Di, meet the firing squad:

1. We are better off without Princess Diana.

Yes, it's fucking true. She wasn't so bad as useless figureheads go, but read between the lines. She spent British tax money on her haute couture, and all of the aid she gave to the sick and dying came out of the British people's pockets. She didn't work for that money, and no, the shit she did was not work. It was a damn roller-coaster ride, fame for no reason but that she married into royalty, one of the most sad institutions left on the face of this Earth.

Now, here's where most people tend to get the wrong idea. Contrary to popular belief, I would not have personally attempted to assassinate Princess Diana had she not died on her own. I would, however, have fought to remove her unearned wealth. Any Brit who didn't have the money for that new piece of furniture they wanted because their disposable income got funneled to Diana (among others) should have done the same. All of that money the government keeps handing out, that's your money. Plain and simple. You gave them a blank check and you let them run wild with it. It happens all over the world.

2. We are not personally responsible for Diana's death.

Of all the media coverage I accidentally saw concerning the event, only one guy had it right; this one guy on YTV (Youth Television). I was waiting for a show to come on when he brought up the subject of the princess. I groaned. Turns out the station had gotten a lot of letters bewailing Di's death, and a hoard of them blamed you and me. We all have blood on our hands, one letter said. Keep in mind that these are 12 year old kids. First the guy took on his nicest, least threatening tv personality tone, then explained to the children of Canada that we might consider rethinking the opinion that each of us personally murdered Diana. That fact is, kids, that there was a very drunk man in the front seat. He should not have been driving a car. We were not creeping around, taking pictures of her for tabloids. I'd be surprised if any kid watching that show had ever, in their whole eight years on the planet, bought a tabloid. I just wish that the national news had explained it in such concise terminology. I bet most people's kids had a better grip on the situation than their talk-show watching, news-rag buying parents ever will.

3. Diana was not the hopeless victim of the media.

When you don't want to be noticed, you don't do up your hair, put on your make-up, hike up your shorts and go fucking jogging. Jog indoors, wear a jogging suit at least, conceal yourself. Don't come out to the media with the stories of your infidelities to your ex-husband while simultaneously claiming to shelter your children from its ugly influence. Both those kids heard all about what a tramp their mum was, and she made damn sure that everybody else did too. The fact is, the spotlight can be ducked. Look at Pearl Jam. They did some great music and were an instant pop phenomenon. But they saw where that was going. Instead of leeching off it like some sick virus, they said "Whoa, this is some bad shit. We better get out of this." They didn't put out a video for something like seven years, rarely did interviews, and eventually the media stopped aping them everywhere they went. They're still producing great music, and sure, their sales are down, but to me that's a positive step. When they see their sales charts now, they know that every single person who bought their album bought it because they love that band. Those people are the true fans, the only ones worth speaking to. Pearl Jam made it out of the loop in one piece. The difference is, Pearl Jam still has a lot of fans. Diana wouldn't have any. The basis of her celebrity is utterly hollow. What has she ever done?

4. Mother Theresa did all of the things that Diana is praised for, only she did them a million fucking times better.

This one is the clincher. This is the hypocrisy of our society, displayed in front of virtually every human being on the planet, and people still refuse to look. It's a slap in the face, it's a guy yelling, "Hey! Wake the hell up! Mother Theresa is dead, but she was wrinkled and ugly, while Di was supposedly some beauty queen, so cry for the one who excited you. Cry for the one who constructed a living soap opera out of her life. Cry for the one with the sex, the money, the power, and the scandal. Cry for the rotten seed, when a whole fucking forest of your so-called morality just burned down!" And they do. Millions of people. The Spice Girls dedicated their song on the 1997 MTV Music Awards to Princess Di, because she had real "girl power". What kind of fucking girl power is that? Let other people write your songs, play your music, choose your clothes, handle your promotions, decide which interviews you'll accept, pick out which products you'll sponsor and tell you when it's okay to stop fucking smiling girl power? The Spice Girls are an embarrassment to humankind. They whore themselves out to the highest bidder, which is Pepsi at the moment. Who's gonna convince me that every Spice Girl is so enamored with the Pepsi product that they would each personally endorse it? I mean sheeyah, it's not even diet. You have to, like, look good to have girl power, because if you can't wear one of those baby T's we're selling then we don't need you. We answered an ad in a magazine to get this job, because we have fucking girl power coming out of our aerobicized asses. Mother Theresa had more "girl power" in her little finger than ten billion spice girls. And don't give me that girl power shit anyway, people have the power. Not just the girls.

On my way home yesterday I passed a group of crying,
middle aged women
huddled around a vigil for Diana
making the sign of the cross
boy, are they lucky that I wasn't feeling so damn opinionated then
I would have given them a speech that they wouldn't forget in a hurry
they could tell their kids about the day they met the devil
and how only their compassion and tears saved them
from their (inevitable) fall from grace
yeah, saved all right
nice fucking life
sign me up right away.

What do you think about heaven?
a bunch of angels walking around on clouds?
nobody could really believe that
but how else could you describe it?
maybe a huge garden
with hedges everywhere
giant marble statues
slugs
beautiful, multicolored flowers growing wild
clear, blue sky...
that's how I'm inclined to see it
you've probably got your own vision
but I bet it's along those same lines
which means, essentially
an idealized form of earth
heaven is nothing more than a second life
which doesn't break you
a life without conflict, choice or decision
a life where you can hide
from the responsibility of having a conscious mind
hide from the responsibility of being able to choose yes or no
have fun with it if you can
but frankly,
I'd rather be dead.

Do you ever get tired of hearing about your predecessors?
your ancestry?
forefathers?
"it's our heritage
we should be proud of it"
people complaining that they've got no identity
not because they've done nothing to be proud of with their life
but because they don't have any "roots"
no "background" beyond the life
that they have unsuccessfully led up to this point
it's bullshit
burn your bridges
sever all connections to your race, culture, society,
bloodline, neighborhood, country and family
because your actions are not theirs
and their actions can never be yours.

I was walking down the street a couple of days ago
when I suddenly felt extremely happy
it almost didn't feel right
it seemed weird
I searched around for a little discontent
but it just wasn't there
it occurred to me that maybe I'm finally finished with it
maybe I've given my time, and it's over
maybe I'm can finally be happy with no strings attached
maybe I can stop pretending that I hate the world
and that I hate people
and that nothing will ever work out
I can throw away my cynicism
because cynicism is nothing but a show
put on for somebody else's imagined benefit
it's true;
imagine if you lived alone, in the jungle or something
away from other people
you might get bored, or a little listless
or scared
but you wouldn't get cynical
what would there be to get cynical about
without other people?
if you're all by yourself, it's not a natural state to be in
it's something that gets whipped up by being a part of a dodgy group
but I think I can finally get past that
I can finally be content with things
without having to constantly justify my contentment
my accomplishments
or my happiness
to somebody else
it felt like I had been swimming through sewage
long after I had thought I was through
and that I was now standing on top of it
rising...
I don't have to be aimlessly negative
and I don't have to be a happy-go-lucky scapegoat
I can be neither
different from everybody I've ever met
working toward my own agenda
living by my own morals
acting on my own decisions
I know that more troubles will eventually come to me
needing to be fought off
but every time I experience this freedom
it gets easier to go back to it again
a freedom stemmed from the resolution of conflict
rather than the substitute used by so many
of simply letting go
sinking to the bottom
letting oneself be buried by problems
and pretending that it's easier that way.

Walking home by the river, I feel depressed
it's nice weather
I have no obligations for several days
nothing better to do
than to walk
I think about making myself a tape
I'll call it "Music to Kill Yourself By"
and on it I'll record all the songs
that have been running through my head all day
they're playing more clearly than usual
slow and melodic
not necessarily depressing in lyrical content
but with a certain mood
a certain quality that makes it easier to stop thinking
I test each one by imagining myself
in a bathtub full of warm water
the air humid
a razor blade in my hand
would I be playing that song?
does it seem appropriate?
is it relaxing enough to help guide me
into death?
none quite hit the mark
I suppose I could title it
"Music to Fall Asleep By"
just as accurately.
I get to the train bridge
which has been converted into a walking bridge
and I understand fully what Brad meant
when he said that he feels like a troll
everybody's on our bridge
we've been using it for years
they for only days
and look at them all
they're everywhere
bugs, scuttling across
with no greater purpose
than to scurry and chatter
about how nice it was of the local government
to build this bridge for them.
beyond the bridge the park continues
it seems quieter
empty, for some reason
it looks peaceful, like another world
there are trees over there that have long, droopy branches
there's only one tree like that on this side
I've only been on that side of the park a few times
because it's outside my normal route
every time I arrive at the bridge, I cross it
I never keep going
it looks like paradise, over there
I keep meaning to go
maybe with a book
or just to sit
but I never can
I'm always doing something
or going somewhere
and I don't have time to stop
I could stop today, but I need to sleep
and besides, what would I do?
just sit?
what good is paradise if you've got nothing to do?
paradise would get boring more quickly than most places
I'd have to set aside some time
walk over
explore a little
then what?
go home?
why bother?
instead, I'll just stare down at it whenever I pass.
that spot, just a few feet from me
down a small hill
but always a little bit too far out of my way to visit.
so I start across the bridge
trying to pass people while letting those on bicycles pass me
and I let the music play in my head
music to kill yourself by
if only I had the clout to pull such a thing together
what a great product to market
people would hate it
and people would love it
few would be indifferent
because indifference
is the worst thing that can happen to a product.
I look up at the steel girders of the bridge as they pass over me
I think about how I am taller than them
by the simple fact of being human
and humans were the force which built them
the knowledge doesn't help, regardless of its truth.
I sink into my unhappiness, and stop trying to fight it
I keep a small piece of my mind working
at the task of understanding my sorrow
but only because I couldn't stop it if I wanted to
I keep walking
a gust of wind sweeping by
I can't remember if my hair
is long or short
I reach up to check, and sigh
all of it will pass
sometime.

I don't often cry when I'm watching movies
but it has nothing to do with repressing feelings
or 'trying to be a man'
or any of that bullshit
it's just the crappiness of the movies themselves
I'm supposed to feel bad
when some half-assed "wacky romance" falls apart?
then, when it inevitably works out,
I'm supposed to feel good?
I just wrote down more examples, but I got rid of them
'cause you know what I mean
shallow, pointless garbage is what I'm being offered
and I can't help but notice that others are accepting it
I hardly ever find movies that handle important issues
while being entertaining at the same time
most movies are either boring
or totally devoid of any ideas
that are even remotely relevant to anything
this is nothing new, of course
the search for a quality product is eternal
but sometimes, I find one
like the day that I saw the Shawshank Redemption
I saw it at a time when I was just beginning to realize
that there are actually people on the planet
who understand the idea of freedom
true freedom,
not some goofed up socialism
or half-assed anarchy
and I swear, it was a phenomenon
I don't know if I'd calling it crying, exactly
but tears rolled down my face
for at least the last twenty minutes of that movie.
"I don't know if I'd call it crying, exactly"
jesus, listen to that shit
of course it was crying.
what else would you call it?
I'm so repressed.
it's a good thing that no one came upstairs to see what was going on
because I couldn't have stopped for anything
and no one in my family
would have had any inkling of what I was thinking
I'd definitely say that it's the best movie I've ever seen
because it didn't pull any punches or feed me any bullshit.
I always rank things on the basis of whether I think I could do better
it doesn't matter what it is
a book, a movie, an album, a person,
and the Shawshank Redemption is one of the rare cases
in which I absolutely could not
I remember reading reviews
in which baffled critics tried to explain the film's popularity
by stating that it hearkened back to an earlier time in film making
a time when such grandiose tales were more commonplace
but that's bullshit
I've never seen an old movie like that before
or a new movie
or any movie
sure I'm only 18, and I've only seen a fraction
of the movies that have been produced on this planet
but there's something special going on in that film
and it slays me to read some lost, clueless editorial
trying vainly to explain it to me
trying its best to talk for me
gah, who cares?
the best movie I've ever seen, and this is what I write about
I have to swat annoying thoughts away like flies
it's always an effort for me not to dwell on the problems with things
because I know how to fix every one of them
it's a direct by-product of my youthful idealism,
a quality which everyone seems certain I'll lose
it's not hard for me to stay generally content
but whenever I slip for just a few minutes
I end up with pages of angry, useless rants
or worse,
explanations as to why I'm slipping into pages
of angry, useless rants.

I didn't see the Shawshank Redemption
until about three years after its release
it was one of those films that everyone recommended to me
with no exceptions
which always makes me nervous
so I didn't go too far out of my way to rent it
I'm glad that I didn't see it in a theater
because it wouldn't have been the same experience at all
although it might still have been a good one,
depending on who else was there
an entire theater full of people like me...
I can't even imagine it
sometimes, just to gauge what sort of mood I'm in
I imagine talking to an exact replica of myself
and seeing if it's a positive experience, or a negative one
sometimes it's the most comforting thing in the world
and sometimes it just makes me sick
it never goes halfway
try it, you'll see
then think of Andy and Red
and remember the catch phrase:
get busy living
or get busy dying
your choice.