I remember one night in Austin I was listening to a song I really liked and a girl came over and I liked her too and when I tried to have her listen to the song she said she didn’t want to
What do you want
What do you god damn animals want from me
Let me lie here
Let me die here
Let me eat my god damn microwaveable popcorn
I was biking home around midnight from some place called The Beer Garden on Telegraph . . . people I barely know had invited me, and I went along because I thought maybe something strange would happen to me.
Nothing happened. I probably sounded like a bitter jerk who doesn’t like anything. I sat there at a picnic table wearing my stupid scarf and drinking a beer that was so bad it made me angry.
But at midnight . . . midnight, midnight . . . I turned onto my street feeling rotten as hell and I flew past a group of people and I swear I heard a guy shout at me: “When’d you lose your mind, man?”
And I thought, jesus, they’re really going to kill me one of these days.
Make it sooner than later, I thought.
Lose my mind? When?
“Ten god damn years ago!” I should have said. Instead I said nothing. I’m not even sure if he was real.
I want to say to the Grim Reaper, “What’s it like to be you?”
And I’ll bet that big bastard would bend over and get right in my face
He’d open his mouth wide and release the screams of a billion lost souls writhing in the terrible darkness of eternity
And then he’d stand up and wipe the bile off his chin and we’d go for a walk
Oakland, California is the Island of Misfit Toys
It is the canary in the coal mine for the apocalypse
It is the Freak Kingdom
And I’m just another freak
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve become more and more aware of my smallness. I look around and I’m surrounded by beasts.
After the moon splits in half over the flaming cities of earth, the big ones will eat the little ones. Or kill them for sport probably. One day, I think, some hulking, drooling ogre is going to rip my spine from my body and laugh like hell about it. And I guess I’ll just be small and dead.
Last night I saw that new Spike Jonze film, which I guess is called her (lowercase “H”) (★★ (out of four)), and I sure did like that first hour. And then I started shifting in my seat because I didn’t really want to be there in that theater anymore, and then the film took a nosedive and got sentimental and cheap and saccharine sweet and I thought, “Well, I definitely want to leave now” and I made some sounds with my mouth and didn’t look at the screen during a few scenes because I felt repulsed and betrayed that the movie I had enjoyed so much only an hour before had turned into a Hallmark greeting card.
Anyway: there were flickering moments of genius, and I liked those flickering moments. For instance at one point Theodore, the protagonist, is lying in bed in the middle of the night in his Los Angeles high-rise apartment, and he’s talking to his computer girlfriend, saying something like, “Sometimes I think I’ve felt everything I’m ever going to feel, and that all the emotions I’ll experience for the rest of my life will just be lesser versions of those original ones.”
And when I heard this I nervously darted my eyes back and forth, thinking, oh god, they know—they know and now they’re going to kill me now. They’ve read my thoughts and they’ve watched my dreams.
That was my favorite scene in the movie, probably because it made me feel anything at all. And I quote unquote related to it. The end!!!!!
You can consider this a promise: once they start manufacturing bioengineered genitals that you can buy in a box at the grocery store, I’m out of here
I am so paranoid that someone is going to murder me because I’m having fun right now
Whoa! Maybe I’m serious
I like to have a sense of humor about my failures. It’s a good time. I’m not even being sarcastic!
God, I’m awake at 3:40 A.M., my bloodstream loaded with caffeine, and all I can do is laugh at the terrible son of a bitch that I am.