Please tell me the apocalypse is coming. First it was the books, then it was the mosque, and now the library burned down.
I, on the other hand, fall asleep covered in high proof alcohol with a lit cigarette and what do I get when I wake up? Nothing but a hangover. The world is burning down around me yet I'm somehow in some sorta ring of safety. And the sad part is, nothings gonna change around here. Not too many people around here believe in Allah (or any god for that matter, why would they?) and I'm pretty sure most of the people in this town can't even fucking read. I just wish that librarian lady knew how jealous I am of her...
People have their stories to tell for now about the book burning and the lightning strike and the librarian's death, but it'll all fade. The customers have even stopped bringing it up, or maybe due to my obvious spiral into the the depths of alcoholism they've just stopped talking. Either way, life isn't changing for me one bit. The winters gonna pass soon and I'll be drunk, then it's gonna come back around and I'll either be dead (knock on wood) or, you guessed it, drunk.
I did take a walk down there though, down to the library. In a way it was beautiful. It was one big present to this town with a "CRIME SCENE DO NOT CROSS" bow. It's the only part of this town that's clean, sterilized by the heat and flames. And with all the words printed in those books, floating around in scraps and pieces now. All of the individual letters that compose them that are now covered in ash. I know that those letters compose all of the answers to all of my questions. Somewhere in the burned down remains of the library is the meaning of life, the directions to the woman I'd be madly in love with, and the time and date of my death. So I stare at the rubble in all of it's glory, and then I think of the librarian. Now's she in there, with all the knowledge of the universe. She's surrounded, without room to breathe, by the infinite possibilities of the 26 letters of our alphabet, and she's dead.
It took a bottle of whiskey to swallow that moment. I bought the cheapest bottle I could find and walked it home across the street. I crawled upstairs and into bed and as I was lighting my cigarette, one tear rolled down my nose and put it out. I set the cigarette down and went to bed.
It's hard for me to function anymore as a butcher. Using sharp knives with the shakes is a bad idea, using them drunk might be even worse. This has led to a decline in business which has led to be being behind on bills. As a result I'm gonna lose my internet, and I won't exactly be able to go to the library to use it after this. So this is my farewell. I'll either turn my life around and get back on one day, or I'll continue down the pathetic path of my life until the day that I graciously accept the chilling arms of death. Either way, you'll never truly hear from me again, if anyone is even reading this in the first place.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
I Want To Watch It All Go Down
Ecstasy. Absolute ecstasy. The town was set ablaze today, literally, metaphorically.
It started in the wee hours of the morning. I was wandering through town in a drunken stupor, searching for more booze when I stumbled upon a sobering sight. Those crazy-ass christian right activists broke into the library and stole some books to burn. As though ANYBODY has EVER read those books. They're just felling a tree in a forest with no one to hear. The scene became more surreal as I walked closer though. There were people dancing around the fire, like witches around a cauldron, they were the town prostitutes, and they were throwing bottles of liquor on the fire, just more fuel.
At this point, I have completely sobered up.
The enchanting dance of the whores was putting me in a trance, and it seemed as though they were conjuring the forces of nature as the wind began whipping around and blowing up their skirts. In the heat of the flames, and realizing the surreality of the scene, they cast their clothes aside, and before long, the whores were dancing nearly naked around a book burning fire as the christian right stood watching, wondering where things went so horribly wrong (or right).
Being in the trance that we were, and being as sober as we were, a local homeless, Schitzy McDowell, and I decided to break into the DnD liquor store and get more fuel for the fire.
Where did this all go so right?
Before long there was glass everywhere, the towns homeless population had bum-rushed (no pun intended) the liquor store and absconded with only the most potent of the alcohols. Better to fuel our hearts and fuel the fire. We chugged as we ran back to the fire, stumbling, vomiting along the way, losing all sense of self control. When we were once again at the fireside, the whores ran up, snatching our bottles and throwing them into the fire, making bursts of flame stories high, like souls escaping the heavens as we sacrificed them to the gods. The flames were growing at an exponential rate, the crowd was getting bigger and louder until it seemed like the whole fucking world was about to blow into its individual atoms and we would all be particle dust and then
One loud crack and the heavens opened, the gods frowned upon us, and in the rain we could barely see two feet in front of us. The fire was doused, the whores ran, and the homeless stumbled off to find their boxes. There was only one source of light, a light that once again drew everyone back together. The main tower of the mosque, it's eccentric spire, was torched, hit by lightning, and the whole place was burning down.
I don't want to sound racist, but it would have been pretty fucking cool if they had explosives in there. Anyways, it seems like the christian right got their satisfaction.I stumbled back into the DnD, took a few more bottles and wandered home. I sat at my window watching the mosque burn down until the sun rose to see our soggy town, covered in wet plastered ash.
We're all just cigarette butts in this ashtray of a town, and we've been smoked to the filter. It's time to get a fresh pack. I lit one last cigarette and fell asleep, half hoping that I'd end up burning my own house down. I could die happy after a night like this.
It started in the wee hours of the morning. I was wandering through town in a drunken stupor, searching for more booze when I stumbled upon a sobering sight. Those crazy-ass christian right activists broke into the library and stole some books to burn. As though ANYBODY has EVER read those books. They're just felling a tree in a forest with no one to hear. The scene became more surreal as I walked closer though. There were people dancing around the fire, like witches around a cauldron, they were the town prostitutes, and they were throwing bottles of liquor on the fire, just more fuel.
At this point, I have completely sobered up.
The enchanting dance of the whores was putting me in a trance, and it seemed as though they were conjuring the forces of nature as the wind began whipping around and blowing up their skirts. In the heat of the flames, and realizing the surreality of the scene, they cast their clothes aside, and before long, the whores were dancing nearly naked around a book burning fire as the christian right stood watching, wondering where things went so horribly wrong (or right).
Being in the trance that we were, and being as sober as we were, a local homeless, Schitzy McDowell, and I decided to break into the DnD liquor store and get more fuel for the fire.
Where did this all go so right?
Before long there was glass everywhere, the towns homeless population had bum-rushed (no pun intended) the liquor store and absconded with only the most potent of the alcohols. Better to fuel our hearts and fuel the fire. We chugged as we ran back to the fire, stumbling, vomiting along the way, losing all sense of self control. When we were once again at the fireside, the whores ran up, snatching our bottles and throwing them into the fire, making bursts of flame stories high, like souls escaping the heavens as we sacrificed them to the gods. The flames were growing at an exponential rate, the crowd was getting bigger and louder until it seemed like the whole fucking world was about to blow into its individual atoms and we would all be particle dust and then
One loud crack and the heavens opened, the gods frowned upon us, and in the rain we could barely see two feet in front of us. The fire was doused, the whores ran, and the homeless stumbled off to find their boxes. There was only one source of light, a light that once again drew everyone back together. The main tower of the mosque, it's eccentric spire, was torched, hit by lightning, and the whole place was burning down.
I don't want to sound racist, but it would have been pretty fucking cool if they had explosives in there. Anyways, it seems like the christian right got their satisfaction.I stumbled back into the DnD, took a few more bottles and wandered home. I sat at my window watching the mosque burn down until the sun rose to see our soggy town, covered in wet plastered ash.
We're all just cigarette butts in this ashtray of a town, and we've been smoked to the filter. It's time to get a fresh pack. I lit one last cigarette and fell asleep, half hoping that I'd end up burning my own house down. I could die happy after a night like this.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
The Sun Comes Around
I woke up today in the strangest of ways.
I was woken by light. A band of light was cutting across my room. A sliver from between the mini-blinds. Like the opposite of a censor bar, just a beam of light making a stripe over my eyes. I heard birds call and people talking. It's January.
I'm also not hungover. I don't remember falling asleep, so I must have been drunk, but I feel fine. It's warm, it's beautiful outside, I'm feeling healthy and clean, and I fucking hate it.
You see, I don't want to be happy, because happiness doesn't last forever. A beautiful day in January is going to be preceded by a shitty day and followed by another, now comparably shittier day. I don't want hope, I don't want joy, I want misery that I can depend on. I've lived my whole life accepting that I wouldn't be happy, and that I'd survive on the vices of alcohol and tobacco, so I don't want this temptation. Today I could go outside and meet people and laugh. I could take a walk and be friendly and sober. And at sundown I could kill myself and end life on a high note. If I didn't have some belief in an even more miserable hell after this life because of the things I've done, that might be a tempting plan. Instead I think I'll hole up in the meat freezer, get bloody and drunk, and not come out until the sun is gone.
I'm just gonna walk down to the meat freezer and hope that there aren't any customers at the door.
God damnit.
Some Cain Taygen guy who offered me a drink at the carnival the other day (it's a wonder I remember), walks up to the door right as I walk by and he wants in. I unlock the door and a blast of warm air hits me. It's 70 degrees outside, and I'm tempted, but I tell myself no with tomorrow in mind. I tell the guy I'll throw in a free steak if he runs across the street to grab me some booze and he obliges. In the mean time I take a smoke break.
He comes back with a bottle of something cheap and tells me that there's a Wells Fargo truck broken down in the middle of the street. Fully loaded. Cash. I politely usher him out the door with a "Thank you, come again," and then I lock the door and retreat to the freezer.
Hah. Millions of dollars. What good would that do you in this town? You could buy a lotta crack, or a lotta booze, or a lotta women, or a lotta all three. The fun only lasts so long though before you're back to where you started, and it all seems so much worse in comparison. That's why I don't have dreams or aspirations, so I don't have any way to fail. If I stick to what I've got, things can't get any worse.
The winters here are bitter cold, it makes people hole up, get antsy, and hate each other. The summer's even worse. It gets way too hot and the whole place stinks to high heaven (if there is one). This might be the one nice day of the year, I'm in my meat freezer, I'm drunk, and I'm fine staying this way.
I was woken by light. A band of light was cutting across my room. A sliver from between the mini-blinds. Like the opposite of a censor bar, just a beam of light making a stripe over my eyes. I heard birds call and people talking. It's January.
I'm also not hungover. I don't remember falling asleep, so I must have been drunk, but I feel fine. It's warm, it's beautiful outside, I'm feeling healthy and clean, and I fucking hate it.
You see, I don't want to be happy, because happiness doesn't last forever. A beautiful day in January is going to be preceded by a shitty day and followed by another, now comparably shittier day. I don't want hope, I don't want joy, I want misery that I can depend on. I've lived my whole life accepting that I wouldn't be happy, and that I'd survive on the vices of alcohol and tobacco, so I don't want this temptation. Today I could go outside and meet people and laugh. I could take a walk and be friendly and sober. And at sundown I could kill myself and end life on a high note. If I didn't have some belief in an even more miserable hell after this life because of the things I've done, that might be a tempting plan. Instead I think I'll hole up in the meat freezer, get bloody and drunk, and not come out until the sun is gone.
I'm just gonna walk down to the meat freezer and hope that there aren't any customers at the door.
God damnit.
Some Cain Taygen guy who offered me a drink at the carnival the other day (it's a wonder I remember), walks up to the door right as I walk by and he wants in. I unlock the door and a blast of warm air hits me. It's 70 degrees outside, and I'm tempted, but I tell myself no with tomorrow in mind. I tell the guy I'll throw in a free steak if he runs across the street to grab me some booze and he obliges. In the mean time I take a smoke break.
He comes back with a bottle of something cheap and tells me that there's a Wells Fargo truck broken down in the middle of the street. Fully loaded. Cash. I politely usher him out the door with a "Thank you, come again," and then I lock the door and retreat to the freezer.
Hah. Millions of dollars. What good would that do you in this town? You could buy a lotta crack, or a lotta booze, or a lotta women, or a lotta all three. The fun only lasts so long though before you're back to where you started, and it all seems so much worse in comparison. That's why I don't have dreams or aspirations, so I don't have any way to fail. If I stick to what I've got, things can't get any worse.
The winters here are bitter cold, it makes people hole up, get antsy, and hate each other. The summer's even worse. It gets way too hot and the whole place stinks to high heaven (if there is one). This might be the one nice day of the year, I'm in my meat freezer, I'm drunk, and I'm fine staying this way.
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