Monday, October 6, 2014

Interloodz

I've always loved quiet bars, a gray day and some time in the pub, preferably with a few windows to gaze out of and traffic to watch and a killer fucking jukebox if the need strikes... these days i love the fucking lounge cuz it's quite like my favorite dives, it's quiet and empty and allows me the room to think, no need to answer comments (there aren't any), no need to worry about an audience or offending, not that i ever did anyway, it's just funny when i stroll through the vast wasteland that is the blogosphere that i see the games that are played, i've seen places with so many comments (hundreds) and the author answering back that i'm amazed they have time to write anything at all, comments are for the ego, talent just sits and fucking does shit, fuck the reward, unless someone wants to give me some money of course, i can always use that, there's always a beer to be drunk or gear to be scored and i don't give a fuck, and what my imaginary friend are you smirking at? my claim of talent? well hell fucking yes, if i don't believe who's gonna but i make believers every now and then cuz i can spin a good yarn, a bit like this motherfucker, another Ohioan who talks shit and writes songs and plays guitar and fucking does his thing and isn't worried about being polite or politically correct and if you don't like it he don' give a fuck, me neither, these the fucking rules man, like fuck the MFA's and slam poetry is dogshit perpetrated by hacks who can't rap or write poesy and do i give a shit what you think or if you think or why you think? fuck no, as Hank said this ain't about entertaining you it's about entertaining me and while i'm at it fuck Hank too, he knew as much as i do that he was blowing smoke and perpetuating his own myth but then again ain't that what this writing gig is all about? i'm just here to document the shit, i'm here to leave a record that no one will find or read and if someone does than so be it, i hope they enjoy it, maybe they'll get a good laugh or break down and cry, maybe they'll be indifferent or think it's the worst fucking atrocity put upon mankind since the atomic bomb, what's the difference?, there is none son and so i'll just keep on with it, walking and talking and grinning with a quick and wicked right uppercut, truth and justice and talent and fame are all just words, words used to often by hacks like you and me and your mom and your aunt and the slam poets and the MFA's but in the end they don't mean shit, they are defined by white-haired old men in gray pinstripe suits and their language is not mine, their paradigm's are not mine, their society is not mine, their truth and justice and talent and fame and slam poets and MFAs are not mine, nothing is mine but this space and this time and i intend to use it whichever way i see fit, be it cock in hand or finger in the nose, smoke rising towards the ceiling and a garbage can full of false starts and empties... and now that the Guinness has settled sweetly into the glass i'm off, to stare at the traffic and the years, to think that i was in a bar when OJ drove down the highway, that i was in a bar when Princess Diana drove into a tunnel, that i was in a bar when my nephew was born a few months to early, that i was scoring on my birthday circa 2001, that i was fucking in the backseat of a Mercury the night my family dissolved, that i was drunk in the blizzard of '93, drunk when she unbuckled my belt and unzipped my fly and led me down to a stained and soiled mattress, that i was hungover the day my son was born, that they are all just days upon days upon days upon days and there is no use in counting only living it as hard and as fast and as long as i can pull it off... and now the Guinness has settled sweetly into the glass i'm off but you know cuz i've already said so, off to read more Gombrowicz and Knausgaard and Steinbeck and Mutis and Burroughs and Bolano, off to do nothing and everything but mainly off to enjoy this drink and this toke and not give a fuck about the rising tides or the setting suns...

5 comments:

Exile on Pain Street said...

The first thought in my head was that this deserves a bigger audience. It should be read by the multitudes. Isn't that funny!

Browns -2. How do you like that? Taking it to the Steelers this Sunday. No more fucking around.

Ross Man said...

No comments doesn't mean no readers.
I've read 'em all.

Cheers you fucker,

mjr

maurcheen said...

maurcheen woz 'ere. (quite a lot.) :-P

Kono said...

Exile- gracias Mr. Exile... and the don't get me started on my beloved Browns, team drives me fucking crazy.

Hassler- you're just waiting for the next Hassler post, haha.

Maurcheen- cheers mate!

twin said...

still lurking reading commenting...

*wink*