*updated 5/03 to include more anger and misanthropy!*
Does this impulse make any sense?
I miss having friends. What I DON'T miss, is MAKING friends.
Hmm.
Yeah, it seems that every time I've tried to make friends with someone I have to endure the discouraging aggravation of having to deal with....well here I was going to say "fucking morons" or something, but that's not always true. Sometimes I have to deal with just regular old assholes, ever-so-familiar whiners, and yes, now that I think of it, legions of Fucking Morons.
Like when I met The Billenium for example. I was in High School at the time and one day I saw him in a corner of the cafeteria reading. Immediately I realized this was my kind of person. When I finally got up the nerve to go ask what he was reading, I was set upon by one of the most obnoxious humans on earth, a girl named Julie. Julie made it her personal mission to interrupt every single conversation I had with The Billenum (remember that Bill? Like you could ever forget!). Her painfully shrill and jarringly stupid questions actually forced me to sit in silence on several occasions, opting not to risk provoking ear-piercing interrogation from a decidedly bankrupt mind. Every day in the lunchroom became a sequence of carefully contrived questions and statements intended to simultaneously baffle Julie into silence, and allow The Billenium and I to have a brief (and hopefully substantial) conversation.
And then when I met my ex girlfriend back when I was in college living in one of the delightful poured concrete dorms: in the room next to mine was a kid named Mike, a tragic soul who, I learned much later, had gotten kicked out of his suite the semester before. As the story goes, Mike was in a fraternity, and was rooming with one of his fratbrothers. Well, one weekend said fratbrother had his girlfriend stay overnight-nothing unusual about that, right? Well, the following morning, said fratbrother woke up to go run some errands. Fratbrother's girlfriend wakes up shortly thereafter to see Mike standing over her MASTURBATING! I shit you not.
So yeah. There I am trying to talk to a girl who I would later enter a disasterous relationship with, and following us everywhere is this kid who lost his housing for jerking off over his roomate(and pay-friend)'s girlfriend. This one time, for example, the Future-Ex and I were trying to have a discussion about the best way to play minor scales on guitar, and this genus interrupts with the following communicative hemorrhage:
"Uh...in..high school...I...uhhhhh....played the saxophone....uhh"
and proceeds to trail off, opting instead to finish his hideously malformed sentence by holding up 4 fingers of his right hand in front of his face. I stare at him for a moment, dumbfounded, and say "Mike, what is that supposed to mean?" and he responds by extending his arm toward me, fingers still raised, as though this clarified anything.
We're not even going to get into the horrors my ex subjected me to. She did introduce me to my friend Rob, who I still stay in touch with, but every time I got to hang around with him, The Ex would insist on bringing along the most loudmouthed ignoramuses in the 18-24 age group that Long Island had to offer. And let me tell you, that little corner of our great nation is overflowing with contenders for the title of "Most Annoying Motherfucker on Earth". Defensive mechanisms in my brain keep me from remembering every member of that parade of genetically mandated failures, but it would take nothing short of a burning needle inserted directly into my brain to purge the memory of those three kids who used to actually wave serrated lockback knives and tell the same 3 shit jokes at maximum volume in public places while Rob and I tried to slink away to somewhere where we could actually have a conversation. Oh, and just to be clear, by "shit jokes" I mean actual "jokes" about feces, but the "jokes" themselves were so awful that it's actually an unintended double entendre.
Nightmarish. Every time I've met someone I actually want to get to know, I have to wade through the most foul tide of miscreants and dumb-asses. Don't get me wrong here, every person who I've ever called a friend has been worth it, but dear god, I don't think I have the strength to endure such trials just yet.
********************************
I posted the above excerpt on MySpace, and this was my sister's reply. She's normally very coherent, but for this I think she may have been too mad to think straight:
No. Oddly enough, even when you want to be friends with certain people, you have to endure their burning stares as they try to FIGURE YOU OUT because you didn't laugh when someone made a Big Boobie joke. What's up with THAT?? Or fucking PMS jokes. There should be a way to speak humorously without it having to be the opener, the upshot and the punchline. People suck big hairy moose cock sometimes because there's a quota people who don't read or listen have to reach everyday of the dumbest shit they can say until they are flatline enough to conk out into degernate snarfing and honking as they sleep. The brain is too precious a thing to be wasted on nonsense. We also grew up with some of that great stuff of our dad's and aunts and uncles. And Mom can be hilarious. Oh well. We're not social whores by nature.
In case you didn't know, my sister FUCKING RULES.
********************************
And, as an afterthought, I should add that not all miscreants are painful to be around. Years ago I was in a band, and the bassist and other guitarist were friends with a guy named Rune-that's not pronounced "Roon", its pronounced "ROO-nah". There are countless stories about Rune, some involve him peeing on Japanese people, some involve him jerking off while talking to his mom on the phone, but the story I'm about to tell you may be my favorite Rune story of all time.
Rune was a filmmaker when I knew him, and for all I know, still is. In the course of making his movies he often had to travel, which meant lots of time in hotels. Well, during one such stay, Rune was up late, and began feeling restless. He decided to explore his room a bit, and in a drawer he found an abandoned magazine, which, from what I understand, featured unclad females in sexual situations. (Such a shocking topic for SG members!) Well, whatever the specific photo content was, it was more than sufficient to awaken his never-really-sleeping libido, and he decided to jerk off. But then, as he flipped through the pages, he decided to put a fairly creative bent on the activity. And so, he grabbed a polaroid camera from his bag, and actually TOOK PICTURES of himself jerking off to the magazine, so as to chronicle how far along in the process he was, and which page he was looking at at the time. And then, for a grand and truly Rune-esque finale, he took the ordered pictures, arranged them in the magazine so that the pages corresponded to the ones in the pictures, and then placed the magazine back in the drawer where he'd found it. So, the next person who stumbled across the magazine would find not only the intended photo sequences, but also a superimposed auto-erotic narrative provided by the undeniably unique Rune.
The moral of the story: degenerates can occasionally provide overwhelming levels of amusement.
Does this impulse make any sense?
I miss having friends. What I DON'T miss, is MAKING friends.
Hmm.
Yeah, it seems that every time I've tried to make friends with someone I have to endure the discouraging aggravation of having to deal with....well here I was going to say "fucking morons" or something, but that's not always true. Sometimes I have to deal with just regular old assholes, ever-so-familiar whiners, and yes, now that I think of it, legions of Fucking Morons.
Like when I met The Billenium for example. I was in High School at the time and one day I saw him in a corner of the cafeteria reading. Immediately I realized this was my kind of person. When I finally got up the nerve to go ask what he was reading, I was set upon by one of the most obnoxious humans on earth, a girl named Julie. Julie made it her personal mission to interrupt every single conversation I had with The Billenum (remember that Bill? Like you could ever forget!). Her painfully shrill and jarringly stupid questions actually forced me to sit in silence on several occasions, opting not to risk provoking ear-piercing interrogation from a decidedly bankrupt mind. Every day in the lunchroom became a sequence of carefully contrived questions and statements intended to simultaneously baffle Julie into silence, and allow The Billenium and I to have a brief (and hopefully substantial) conversation.
And then when I met my ex girlfriend back when I was in college living in one of the delightful poured concrete dorms: in the room next to mine was a kid named Mike, a tragic soul who, I learned much later, had gotten kicked out of his suite the semester before. As the story goes, Mike was in a fraternity, and was rooming with one of his fratbrothers. Well, one weekend said fratbrother had his girlfriend stay overnight-nothing unusual about that, right? Well, the following morning, said fratbrother woke up to go run some errands. Fratbrother's girlfriend wakes up shortly thereafter to see Mike standing over her MASTURBATING! I shit you not.
So yeah. There I am trying to talk to a girl who I would later enter a disasterous relationship with, and following us everywhere is this kid who lost his housing for jerking off over his roomate(and pay-friend)'s girlfriend. This one time, for example, the Future-Ex and I were trying to have a discussion about the best way to play minor scales on guitar, and this genus interrupts with the following communicative hemorrhage:
"Uh...in..high school...I...uhhhhh....played the saxophone....uhh"
and proceeds to trail off, opting instead to finish his hideously malformed sentence by holding up 4 fingers of his right hand in front of his face. I stare at him for a moment, dumbfounded, and say "Mike, what is that supposed to mean?" and he responds by extending his arm toward me, fingers still raised, as though this clarified anything.
We're not even going to get into the horrors my ex subjected me to. She did introduce me to my friend Rob, who I still stay in touch with, but every time I got to hang around with him, The Ex would insist on bringing along the most loudmouthed ignoramuses in the 18-24 age group that Long Island had to offer. And let me tell you, that little corner of our great nation is overflowing with contenders for the title of "Most Annoying Motherfucker on Earth". Defensive mechanisms in my brain keep me from remembering every member of that parade of genetically mandated failures, but it would take nothing short of a burning needle inserted directly into my brain to purge the memory of those three kids who used to actually wave serrated lockback knives and tell the same 3 shit jokes at maximum volume in public places while Rob and I tried to slink away to somewhere where we could actually have a conversation. Oh, and just to be clear, by "shit jokes" I mean actual "jokes" about feces, but the "jokes" themselves were so awful that it's actually an unintended double entendre.
Nightmarish. Every time I've met someone I actually want to get to know, I have to wade through the most foul tide of miscreants and dumb-asses. Don't get me wrong here, every person who I've ever called a friend has been worth it, but dear god, I don't think I have the strength to endure such trials just yet.
********************************
I posted the above excerpt on MySpace, and this was my sister's reply. She's normally very coherent, but for this I think she may have been too mad to think straight:
No. Oddly enough, even when you want to be friends with certain people, you have to endure their burning stares as they try to FIGURE YOU OUT because you didn't laugh when someone made a Big Boobie joke. What's up with THAT?? Or fucking PMS jokes. There should be a way to speak humorously without it having to be the opener, the upshot and the punchline. People suck big hairy moose cock sometimes because there's a quota people who don't read or listen have to reach everyday of the dumbest shit they can say until they are flatline enough to conk out into degernate snarfing and honking as they sleep. The brain is too precious a thing to be wasted on nonsense. We also grew up with some of that great stuff of our dad's and aunts and uncles. And Mom can be hilarious. Oh well. We're not social whores by nature.
In case you didn't know, my sister FUCKING RULES.
********************************
And, as an afterthought, I should add that not all miscreants are painful to be around. Years ago I was in a band, and the bassist and other guitarist were friends with a guy named Rune-that's not pronounced "Roon", its pronounced "ROO-nah". There are countless stories about Rune, some involve him peeing on Japanese people, some involve him jerking off while talking to his mom on the phone, but the story I'm about to tell you may be my favorite Rune story of all time.
Rune was a filmmaker when I knew him, and for all I know, still is. In the course of making his movies he often had to travel, which meant lots of time in hotels. Well, during one such stay, Rune was up late, and began feeling restless. He decided to explore his room a bit, and in a drawer he found an abandoned magazine, which, from what I understand, featured unclad females in sexual situations. (Such a shocking topic for SG members!) Well, whatever the specific photo content was, it was more than sufficient to awaken his never-really-sleeping libido, and he decided to jerk off. But then, as he flipped through the pages, he decided to put a fairly creative bent on the activity. And so, he grabbed a polaroid camera from his bag, and actually TOOK PICTURES of himself jerking off to the magazine, so as to chronicle how far along in the process he was, and which page he was looking at at the time. And then, for a grand and truly Rune-esque finale, he took the ordered pictures, arranged them in the magazine so that the pages corresponded to the ones in the pictures, and then placed the magazine back in the drawer where he'd found it. So, the next person who stumbled across the magazine would find not only the intended photo sequences, but also a superimposed auto-erotic narrative provided by the undeniably unique Rune.
The moral of the story: degenerates can occasionally provide overwhelming levels of amusement.
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
I got yo back, man. We gonna regulate... hehe.
(what?