As I have read through by last Year's blogs, I can see the depression. Not so vague, am I. I am simply Hemingway, without my great novel. Ahhh, to live on an island, far away from people. He was very smart, smarter than most of us, smarter than me.
I've taken this last week off from work. Maybe to think about getting my shit together... the older I get, it's harder to recover from the lasting affects of the rages of depression that I go through. I am mindful of the last time I let this go to far...I fuckin' broke my leg. That was the universe telling me to stop, and it really hurt like hell. And still having the recent surgery to remove the metal that was in my leg, that didn't seem to stop me. One really cannot get a bigger fucking hint than that.
The fact of the matter is that I have no place to be the weirdo that I am. I feel restraint all the time. I once found myself with purple hair and tattoos. But, there isn't a place for me in the world of corporate culture looking like that. And I need the insurance. No wonder the country is messed up. I cannot be the only lost soul. I'm thinking that I need to get back to myself. It's going to be a long haul. I've gained a ton of weight, I'm trapped in a dead end job. Oh, there's room for promotion, but if you could see the likes of the people that I'm working with, well, I'm not sure that Up is really the New Down.
What this lack of behavior problems has left me with is an obsession with buying made for T.V. exercise equipment, a credit card to Lane Bryant, big flabby boobies, a lack of sex drive, a need for cookies (all the time), and a huge cable Movie Channel bill. Yes, I have been rolling around in my self pity for a long, long time.
I am; however, very fortunate. I didn't do one god damned thing for any of my friends this year, and yet, they still produce. They still come through.
My birthday was upon us. And my friends gathered for drinks at the usual spot. I brought Christmas Gifts for everyone....just silly things. Maybe my favorite was the tiny plastic monkeys I included in everyone's packet. I like monkeys and gorillas. Frankly, they have gotten the hole thing exactly right. And we're going to kill them all for it. They stayed in the forest, naked, with the green food and the rain. Very nice, indeed. So smart, smarter than us. Humans can't sit still. We we're given this great green planet, and we can't wait to fuck it up, and move to the next one. There's not an antibiotic to cure the planet of us.
Once having dispersed this packets, I opened my own. There was lots of silly things, which, I loved. Then there were two small packets of chocolate covered candies. Nice, I thought, but weird. They just looked weird, sitting there all by themselves. Not to worry, I was told, I would see.
Then came the biggest, best present of all times. The cake. And not just any cake, mind you, the fucking most awesome cake that anyone has ever gotten in the history of cakes. Even better than "let them eat cake" cake.
The cake stood about two feet tall. Delicately, and personally decorated. The eyes of the character seemed to beckon me, and the little toes and fingers made of icing did not want to be eaten, they wanted to jump and scream, and make a scene. One arm of the character stood straight up in the air, as if to ask, "Does this armpit smell bad to you?". Yes, it was bad, very bad. Bad Monkey. It was a Holy Monkey. A Holy Monkey Cake. But, it didn't stop there. Much to my delight, the arm gently rocked backwards, and was to be armed with the chocolate covered nuggets, that I had received earlier. Once the hand of the monkey was armed, one had to let go, to watch the choco nuggets fling through the air like a hail of bullets on one's unsuspecting prey or target, if you prefer. This cake was a Poo-Flinging Holy Monkey Cake.
Can you imagine? No, you can't. No, you can't. Or there would be thousands of these cakes made. Everyone would have one. And even if you get one for yourself, which you totally should, my friend Raina would have thought of it first, and given it to me first.
Raina had to find the specs on the Internet. Then she took it to a wedding cake bakery. I would have put their website in this blog...but they didn't seem it fitting to put my cake on their website, so, no go. They did agree to make the cake, and she kept getting delightful calls at work concerning the cake status. When the gearman was there, they called her to ask just how far she wanted the poo to fling. What a wonderful call to have at work. Raina's face lite up with such glee as she recanted to story. She works with lawyers.
The tables around us were filled with the norms. The norms of people in their bedazzled, holiday wear. Their sweaters, their baseball caps, all in boring normal colors. Jesus, the norms. I couldn't even get away from them at a fucking bar. But, as we all took turns flinging poo, something awakened in me. Something that I had kept to quiet, and held in the dark for too long. That need to be silly. That need to have the weird hair, and the weird dress, and to eat lovely weird things. Why have I let myself stray so far?
The Norms stared first in curiosity, then in envy. Then some of those Norms made the face. You know the face. It's the face that every God Fearing American makes when a Muslim walks into the room. That repressed face of anger with a twinge of "I just masturbated to Super Porn in the church bathroom, before I got here, but me and Jesus hate you.", face. We've all seen it. Hell, most people seem to live by it; their faces contorted permanently. We should have listened when our mothers told us if we made that face, it would stick like that. But, we just shot a few poo pieces their way. Awesome poop.
I also received a fantastic piece of art from my friend Ric Williams. www.ricwilliams.com
I now have been blessed with two pieces of art from this man. And I own his book. Which is signed. Oh, you say, signed. Well, if I know him than why did have to have him sign it, you say. I'm no fool. I have watched for years as Ric has blossomed into his own, as he's blossomed into our own. He has the balls to share this with the rest of the world. And once I'm long gone, my child with know that his mother once stood in the presence of, and hung out with, human greatness. That's the purpose of having the book signed. And of course, should my child ever get in desperate need of money, due to bad gambling debts, or medical bills, practically the same thing, he can sell it. Ric would understand that.
He's the top dog when it comes to scanner art. Oh, you haven't hear of that? Yes, it's new.
This year, the bar and the cake, and the friends, was really less about me. I'm not sure that I made that point clear. I'm always a show. But, it wasn't about me. It was about all of the people that were at that table. The finest of humans humbled me. Their knowledge, their thoughtfulness, their badassness....it humbled me. The drinks were shit. We all agreed on that. I think that the Po-Po's got to the bar, maybe they were fined or something, but the drinks were shit. We'll have to move places next year, for sure. But, I'm one lucky son of a bitch.
This time of year really does stick it to me. My birthday, the birth of Christ, the New Year. All of them periods of reflection, and it all happens within a month. It can be powerful, I suppose; or crushing. I sleep a lot. Perhaps, at some point, I will awaken from my long hibernation to seize the power of it all, maybe. Maybe.
I also watch a ton of T.V. Reminded me finally of that Welcome to the Jungle song and video. Just sitting in front of all of those T.V.'s gathering shit. I did notice that Comedy Central has a ton of wonderful stand up comics. All of them seem to be men, though. I'm not sure that we have gotten to the point that women can be that crude and still respected in the comedy world. That's a real shame. I'm very crude, and very funny, but not sure that I could make the kind of money that the boys do. I had to wonder if this was Comedy Central's way of paying back for the lack in pay that all those Male Models get. It's widely know that beautiful women make more money that beautiful men. I think it may just be that type of conspiracy. If you're not pretty, Guy, than you can be funny. We'll help you. If I really thought they'd give a girl a fair shake, I could think about sharing some funny shit with them.
This is only a point because I'm thinking about breaking out. Really breaking out. I've got to get my butt in gear though. I can't decide if I should quite my job or not. Usually, I'm good for about two years at any given job. It's been two years. And since the company got bought out by an even bigger, stupider company, it's a tough call. The new people that I work with are very ignorant, and quite lazy. Two things that seriously make my skin crawl, and I do think that I have received brain damage just from the staff meetings alone, already. Seriously, they are mind numbing. The bosses come in with their lists of things to talk about, and it does drag on, and they could have just sent a fucking email. We have that now...some people use it.
I was ready to quit. Then, I thought, perhaps I could use this to my advantage. Maybe I could slow it down a bit. Not be some dedicated to things that I don't care about. Even if I took it easy, I would still be light years ahead of the fucking rest of them. But, I'm not positive that I can stick it out though. I'm really going to have to buckle down.
What I mean by this is I'm going to have to introduce small facets of myself into their world. Maybe just secretly. Well, it would have to be secretly. They can't handle the truth. I didn't want to be on the office birthday list, and this woman wouldn't let it go. It just stopped her completely. Why wouldn't anyone want cake with a bunch of people who don't give a shit about you in the first place? Why or Why?!? She really did try to talk me into it, too. It was about a ten minute conversation. Then she finally resided herself to having a cake with everyone without me. Now you're getting it. Great. No problem. Awesome. When I didn't relent, you could see the face. (see above for the "face" description.) Frankly, had I known about the Holy Poo-Flinging Monkey Cake, perhaps I could have suggested that. She really did get so bad that I almost told her that I was Muslim, just to get her off my back. I think that might have excused me from a ton of office crap. But, in clear mind and heart, I couldn't do that to my Muslim friends of the world. I could have told her that I was raised Southern Baptist and if she let me out of this, let me break the rules and behave badly, I would just give her some money to make it all go away. But, I didn't think of that until later. I was slow from the brain damage the meeting had inflicted.
Yes, Little things. Must bring in tiny things, like smelling of foreign cigarettes and incense. Taking breaks were they can't get to me, find me, reading in the bathroom; without having to poop. I'll have to find a coffee shop and maybe buy a new laptop where I can keep my secrets and blog about them publicly. I wonder if I can Sage Stick my cubicle based on my religion. They would have to let me, right? I should get Raina to ask her lawyers.
Oh yes, can you feel it? The New Year's Resolution List is forthcoming.
1. Clean House.
2. Buy laptop.
3. Get Comedy Central.
4. Eat better food. (Throw Out Cookies.)
5. Finish bigass art project, that's been sitting on the porch for a full year.
6. Exercise. (Use at least one if not two things bought off T.V.)
7. Loose Weight. (By combining all of the above.)
8. Combat work related brain damage with humor and foreign smokes. (Maybe fling poo.)
9. Dye hair respectable funny color. (Respectable to me.)
10. Get out in the Public Eye. (Maybe an Open Mic or just the Grocery Store.)
Yeah, shit like that.
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