Timothy

greatly aggravated states of mind

the state of being called "bored" can be roughly summed up
into the four great words.

get off your ass

which when you place yourself into the self contemplative
mode I seem to be in lends itself not to the more logical steps
of getting out of the house and becoming productive, but
actually promote more contempt by said self.

to all those who think that injecting oneself with delusional self
aggrandizing notions of doomed partisanships within the
practical walks life are simply fucked in the head and have no
idea of what is really going on with the world, themselves,
their friends, colleagues, families and significant others.

so, what is it that separates us from the rest of the fish?
perhaps the fact that we simply choose to be where we are,
and how we react to the stimulus in the rooms we inhabit. one
could almost o so far as to say that one merely reacts to the
governing simplicity of the nature of self. now what is self? self
is. well, good question, when you figure it out, pat yourself
on the back and fuck off, cause I don't want hear about it.
when I find myself, I will do you the favor and fuck off too.

is it really too much to ask? no, not really. what do i want
right now? I want a grrl friend. I want someone to be my best
friend, someone to whom I can speak of anything with, and
be myself. Do you know how hard that is? yes, you do, we all
do, i am simply re-iterating it for the self indulgence of this
rant I am typing out in a haze.

but, whatever.

so, do i take the chance? do i take that leap of faith? maybe,
perhaps I could if I found myself feeling good about myself. I
don't feel good. I feel fat, I feel lazy, I feel lost, depressed,
bored, and not even remotely tantalized at the fact or notion
that any grrl could possibly take an interest in me beyond the
mercurial and intangible. although it would certainly lend itself
to the vast ego of mine should someone be interested in the
neurotic tendency’s of mine. the constant states of self
deprecations, and the doubts about where I am going. no grrl
wants a shmuck with no money, no future, and who is fat and
lazy. Admittedly i am berating myself here, but i have the
prerogative, and I am exercising that right, why else do I have
an online diary?

humph, exercise. fuck, lazy bastard aren't we? loathing the
self, and doing nothing except sitting in front of a computer,
granted I sit in front of one for 8 hours a day 4 days week at
work, but I choose to spend more than that on my days off
and I have nothing to say to anyone. I am sure there are
African tree frogs who'd have more to say a nice grrl than I
would. And I consider myself to be intelligent?

bah!

mm, party next weekend. what to do eh? bring food to the
party? or bring alcohol with me? well, lets see, the last few
times I've been to parties, I've brought both and been, well,
rather snubbed later, or nothing else. dun no, well, I will bring
something, perhaps if nothing else, i shall be more endearing
to the people coming than the last time I was at a party in
which I proceeded to make a complete ass of myself, and
embarrass myself, even though I was drinking rather too much
even for me. a full bottle of vodka before the party, and
another one during the next 6 hours. not good, considering i
consider myself to be at risk, should I allow myself, to become
an alcoholic.

not that I would, I mean, it could happen, but the logic which
permeates my brain simply wouldn’t let me. "You wouldn't
have any money for movies if you did that", "fuck tim, you'd
not even have money to buy food out everyday, or upgrade
your laptop, or anything." sigh. At one point many years ago
I had a serious problem with VLT's, it's why i refuse to go to
casino's at all, even now, if I don't play like $5 every two
weeks or so, I start getting antsy.

and I have thought about that. what if I have a repressed desire
for risk? I mean, I have wondered about why I do the things I
do. just the other day, I ran through rush hour traffic
knowing my shoes are shit, the roads are slick and manitoba
drivers are the worst in the country 3rd from Torontonians and
montrealers. but still, fuck. do I have death wish? no. risk I am
beginning to think, I need stimulation, even if I have to elevate
it to the act of something daring, perhaps even dangerous,
even if the level of stupidity reigns in there somewhere.

kind of reminds me a fight I got into when I was in high
school. this guy, who was black was bothering me, now,
understand, I am not a racist, maybe a little against the natives
who drink/smoke/snort glue and ask for change with such a
slur their somewhat normal accent is brought to the fore with
such veracity to illicit a barrage of nigh incomprehensibility to
ones hearing. Anyways, I digress, anyways, he starts shoving
me, and I say "how now brown cow", I have never used the
"N" word, and never will, it's simply vulgar, like the "C" word
in regards to the pussy. (yeah, yeah, it's fucking screwy) well,
I never said I was a normal, well adjusted person.

so, where was I?

right, there he is shoving me around, and I am laughing at
him, like really laughing at him. I am sure I was being an
asshole or something, and deserved it. But, I wanted more and
I was like demanding it. I think the thing afterwards that
shocked me, and let me believe in something even a little. he
was so upset and angry he was in tears as he was shoving, I
think he punched me, and kept screaming at me "want more?"
and I finally realized I may have pushed him too hard, and I
said no. That’s when brian the fucko said, "he's still smiling, I
think he wants more!". I didn't, but like that means anything
to someone who's raging. Well, at some point he threw me
against some lockers, and was so angry he started punching
other lockers and kicking over desks and such.

it was surreal. I mean, like really surreal. slow motion, i can
remember almost the event as if it was happening now.

and I was fascinated by it. here was this guy, screaming,
yelling, crying, punching shit, and not once did he take up
that rage against me other to punch me around and tell me
what a fucking asshole I was. There were some girls there, who
were looking in almost abject horror in the spectacle, which for
all it was, only lasted maybe 5 minutes, if that. 3 days later,
he hadn't been to school, and he comes up to me in gym class
and apologizes. And I told him, "what the fuck are you
apologizing for? I should be apologizing for calling you a
brown cow.", and I did. I was actually sorry, I was simply
provoking him, and i was being a jerk, so I deserved it. But he
didn't think so, he was of the opinion that he should be better
than that, he was sorry because alot of that rage was also his,
about white people. it was weird, but that whole year, we were
friends, I think I went to his house a couple of times, his
mother was shocked, I think, I remember her asking him why I
was there, and he simply answered, "he's my friend.", talk
about weird.

friends, I have many that I call friends, but as of late I have
been ignoring them, being invisible, I think I may just be
feeling sorry for myself, and my current situation that I am just
lying low, so as to not bother them. Thats always been a
problem, thinking I am bothering them. some have said they
don't think so, some I think are just too nice to actually just
tell me to my face I'm an asshole and they don't want to hang
out with me. i prefer people being upfront and honest with me
rather than skulking about in the dark and whispering, or
nattering about whatever little thing I have done to piss them
off this time.

well, I am tapped out, 5am, should go to sleep....

dream sweet dreams... perhaps about that grrl...

perhaps to wander through torturous nightmares...

and arise unscathed, un marked and un abashedly solid.

yes, I think I shall...

~T~