run to the hills...

recently, my girlfriend and i took a "vacation," and this is the sad tale. it is long, and i apologize in advance for wasting your precious time with my inanity...

we all hate where we are. we hate the daily repetition, the diurnal cycle of habits and obligations that make up the sad and often pointless drivel that constitutes our lives. and if some of you out there in space don’t, don’t despise every second of wasted existence, don’t curse the chains that bind, then count yourselves among the very fortunate. or a liar.

whichever one, it doesn’t matter. for me, i keep myself going by believing that i am working toward something, that someday i will achieve my “goal.” (the fact that i am not quite sure as to what this goal may be is only slightly unnerving and of minor concern.)

occasionally, when we feel that we can take no more, when the white matter inside our skulls begins to uprise in sulcical revolt, we are forced to seek refuge for a spell. we dress up our distress in flamboyant and unconscionable tackiness and we run screaming hysterical into unknown lands. this is commonly referred to as a “vacation.” we plan our escape for months, meticulous as a jailbird, and wait only to recieve a nailfile from the “powers that be,” or at least a spoon so we may begin to dig our ways out of the...mess that our lives have become. once outside, we parade ostentatiously, high-strung, ready for a nervous breakdown at the slightest hitch, so intoxicated with feigned freedom that we become fools for other’s profits. and we return exhausted; inevitably, we find we need a vacation from our vacation.

unfortunately, i was not so lucky, as i found myself in this particular moment. here we were, prepared for a few days “away from it all.” and yet, instead of relief, we found ourselves thrust headfirst into the very den of suffering and confusion. a land where nothing makes sense, and even those who live here are lost. we headed to the capital...

our first bad sign came as we neared the tunnel, a source of constant delay and probable suicide for many. how people can consitently find this routine so difficult continues to escape me. in their wisdom, the lords of the tunnel have painted bright solid white lines, guiding the traveler onward, and most importantly, forbidding him to cross into another lane, lest he should bring himself or others to harm by his recklessness. and so, in this tunnel of tragedy, the only directive is clear and simple “DO NOT HIT THE CAR IN FRONT OF YOU!!!” And yet, without fail, this proves difficult for these drivers, drivers who have, in the eyes of their respective state officials, proven themselves worthy and capable of operating tons of hurtling metal amongst (and hopefully not against) their fellow man.

the rest of the way proved troublesome and wearying as well, as inexplicable traffic snailed its way across the vivid verdure of virginia’s eastern regions. at times, it seemed as though the trees might actually beat us there, but eventually and with much idling we arrived outside of the capital, at the first of three destinations upon our road to relaxation and sanity.
we spent a brief repose with a friend of ours and ate while we “caught up” and shot the proverbial “poo.” but this picture of normalcy and sense was to be interrupted much too soon as Cronos urged us on to later destinations. we parted our friend and headed forth.

the capital is an old city. in its day, it was designed as a model of regularity and order. as this land has aged, so has it, and it has grown. its architecture remains pure. unfortunately, it has not aged gracefully in all aspects. for yet again, we found ourselves plunged into the awful blind wanderings upon these cruel and heartless streets that all must suffer who do not either possess a madman’s logic or at least an aerial view. hours whittled away as several straightforward directions slowly morphed into ugly beasts of deception and lies. the more we strayed, the more a menacing spectre revealed itself to me: the city was prescient, and worse than that, it was out to get me! how else to explain that all roads i sought lacked proper and adequate, by which i mean visible, signs, or that all streets that would allow me to correct my mistakes became suddenly and arbitrarily impassable. (ive found that a favorite trick of so-called city-planners is to take an otherwise normal road and turn a block or two of it into a one-way street for apparently no reason other than just to “spice things up.”) after this small order of chaos, the entropy checked itself, but still it lurks, hanging behind cosmic clouds and in the umbra of stars. from lightyears these inconsistencies blink in and out of existence, and just enough time lapses to cause disturbances.

as time’s wing’d chariot hurried on, we abandoned our first attempts to discover the hiding place of our hotel, and decided to cut our losses and merely head to the venue of the concert that we had come to see. as we found the huge, imposing colloseum that would house the event, we searched for the most elusive beast of metropolitan travel: parking. after many laps to survey the situation, we headed unawares into a promising location.

we were robbed by bandits who, in their benevolence, and after our robbery, allowed us to at least leave the car and proceed without further abuse. parking garages may in fact be one of the seats of Lucifer’s generals, because the blatant and merciless greed upon which they stand cannot possibly be of this world. these are foundations of pure evil and outright malice to patrons, but as so often happens in this world, we find our hands tied.

exiting, and walking much lighter than we expected to have been, we entered the streets which were festering with people, disgusting carbon copies of each other: trendy young-types, girls in dresses with orange skin and sunglasses reminiscent of “The Fly” series, ridiculous and pretentious arrempts to scream out the self-importance which the wearer so desperately craves. as for the men, i saw the dreaded “pop-collar” on the corner and leave it at that. how i weep as i look out upon you poor and pathetic souls.

the concert itself was amazing, and proved to be one of the few bright spots amongst the tragedy from which this trip was wrought. fortunately, despite the masses’ best attempts, music still retains its power to inspire and shine a light into the human condition as few other things but art can. it reminds me that perhaps there is hope, maybe we can be saved, though it will still take a miracle. the staging proved to be a ready complement for the music itself and it deftly communicated the passion and intensity that lay within the chords and melodies. as these resoated throughout the venue, the lights and effects and vibrations all coalesced to let me know, at least for the moment, it might be okay. for all of our shortcomings, for the ridiculous and nonsensical structure which we impose upon the world around us, i feel that if we can listen to our instincts, to this ancient and sacred muse which is music, that we can come to an understanding and realize those things which are truly important and may save us from the incredible mess we have created. they are not this love of power, which fades and rides upon the opinions of those who are easily swayed, nor upon the lust of precious materials, which are worthless and decay the second we are faced with our mortality. they are a matter of hearsay, of how wonderful they are, and not of real significance, they are stagnant, and perhaps we may be eternal. that which moves our emotions, the collective unconscious which may exist, these things connect us to our forebears and to our progeny, they translate to those who came before and who have yet to savor the sweet treasures life has to offer. all material things are merely that,and they cease the moment we do. perhaps the reader may believe only in this materialism, and that is fine. one’s philosophies are one’s own possessions, but this line of thinking leads to nothing but disappointment and usually doubt, in my opinion. if the possibility does still exist, as it seems it does, why not embrace the fact that it may bring happiness and significance to one’s own life? “you may say that im a dreamer,” but this makes life worth living to me.
art allows us to connect in a way that seems impossible by other means. even those who have used art to express their own belief in nihilism and meaninglessness seem to be crying out for that intanglible connection which they so desperately clamor against. the lights go up, and for the momennt, my affair with the unknown, the different, is forced to a rude end...
as the concert ended, we again were forced to the streets and found the going no less difficult. an hour passed, and besides the unwitting discovery of a delicious chinese restaurant, we had gained nothing besides more weariness. this hotel slowly became a source of all that i find wrong with this world. there are unjustifiable wrongs which we must suffer on a daily basis, and yet we have no recourse. what am i left to do, leave a nasty email to the mayor about the sad shape of his streets and the unspeakable inconvenience i experienced upon visiting his hamlet? no, i am no one, i have no voice and my complaints would be best met with polite acquiescence and insincere apology which would only further alienate me from those around me, and pass unnoticed by those whom i wish most to affect.
on, keep it bottled up, like the rest of the rage that each of us bear daily because we simply do not have the power and representation that our happy days in elementary school led us to believe. we are, each of us, powerless, and we feed daily into the system to preserve our status quo. we choose to fall in line rather than to do the right thing, lest we be percieved as, god forbid, different from everyone else around us who is so busy pleasuring those above for no particular reason that we have no time to actually realize (much less to voice) what we are. but we are the ants, and they are the grasshoppers...

when the gods had had their fill of comedy at our expense they led us to our hotel, and after several laps around the inconcievable block, our Odyssey was at an end. after much difficulty, we were directed through a back alley, and a most tight fit, and into the garage of our hotel. by means of ingress, we had to buzz ourselves in and give a password, as if entering the ink ‘n’paint club. once we had been allowed entrance to the parking facilities of the hotel which we had been privileged to pay merely $100 for the abbreviated night which we would weather in, we were directed to park in an illegal spot by the securty guard. apparently, the hotel had little faith in itself and had planned for far less parking spots than they actually had rooms, and so i parked against a wall. the fit was so tight in this sardine can, that the guard actually initially recommended we park in a spot so small it would have rendered several neighboring cars un-enterable save by means of hatch entry, and finally to park in our ultimate spot, my passenger had to exit the vehicle before i parked or else climb over the centre console. incidentally, this is not the way passengers generally exit my vehicle.
we finally entered our room well after midnight to attempt to salvage what sad excuse for rest our “vacation:” would offer us...

i was awakened at 8.30 by a knocking and shuffling of paper. after my best attempts to ignore the distrurbance, i apporached the door to find a piece of paper slid beneath the crack. it was, of course, a bill. a ridiculous bill which even exceeded the banditry of the night before, a thing which i previously had thought unimaginable. i lay awake for the next hours, not wishing to wake my companion with this newest insult, but ever formulating an articulate and irreproachable argment against such a travesty. what kind of ethical business pratice, i wondered, had led them to believe that it was acceptable to offer a usually free service to a customer, and then without warning charge a souless price for its rendering? and furthermore, what undehanded techniques had taught them to dole out these demands at a time when almost all of their quests would be sleeping? the same spineless strategem which had informed them that this practice woulo prove less confrontational, that the victims would have had time to “cool down” and accept the charges rather than make some sort of scene. we scramble to avoid conflict at all costs. my head ached with rage at this opportunism and insult to hospitality. the minutes ticked slowly by, but finally, the time for conflict arrived.
amazingly, the same clerk who had checked us in the night before, and had mumbled something vague about “incidentals” still manned the desk. however, we were served by another clerk, who immediately repealed the fees, indicating to me that such argumetns were not uncommon to this hotel. however, he assured me that, although he was unfamiliar with our particular situation, we had recieved “premium parking.” whether this “premium parking” constituted slinking into a back alley, parking against a wall which my passenger was forced to exit before i had actually parked, the12 point turn i had to execute to leave, or any other matter which may escape my curent memory was left to interpretation.
at this point, we made our grand escape, we fled from this seat of terrors, this body of pain. we crossed the verdure again, we hid our heads in our homes thankful to be safe and away from this throne where the fates of the masses are held by the whims of the few, and eagerly began to look forward to our next vacation...

inns of depravity

so a few weeks ago, i went to a bar with some of my friends.  the experience was basically the same as whenever im surrounded by a large group of people, i am reminded of how much i cannot stand most everybody.  we humans are disgusting to the point of hilarity and i think that though we take ourselves very seriously, if we could only step back for a moment and really look at ourselves, we  would have almost die laughing.  the things we place so much importance on and the things that aggravate and stress us are almost always ridiculous, once taken outside of the immediate context.  i am not satisfied with what follows, and there is a great temptation for me to rewrite the entire thing, but i have decided not to.  instead, ill call it my poor attempt to simulate what dr hunter s thompson called "gonzo journalism."  of course, the only similarities this sad piece shares with that master's work is that it was scribbled through bleary eyes in the wee hours of the morning.  but i am holding to the reactionary, active role playing, actually being there part of the formula as best i can.  this has been edited only for spelling, god help you all...

there are times when i believe that things may not be as bad as i thought, that maybe there is some hope for us, as a species, after all. fortunately, all i need to remind myself of my revulsion at the creatures we are is suddenly to be plunged into the midst of these wild beasts. as we entered the bar, or club as some may prefer, i was almost instantly accosted on all sides by pimps and prostitues, shamelessly flaunting their wares. i noticed, as the nite wore on like any other, that the defining feature of a female of this particular species is to dress and appear to any unbiased passerby as to be “open for business,” so to speak, and yet, when an actual customer enters the shop, to violently and condescendingly shoo him out by the nearest means of egress, as if he were some damned fool for thinking one might actually sell tea in a tea shop. and in the meantime, one must always remember that the best means for achieving one’s goal is to act as if that would be the ultimate last thing one would ever want to do, in any way. this, counterintuitively, as best as i can guess, is the way in which this species has sustained its long-lasting success.
however, this does not take into consideration the supplemental benefits which go along with this cat-and-mouse. the females recieve a great deal of gifts and flattery from the males on all sides, and are in complete power to induce the males to act in foolish ways to no end in their desperate and futile attempts to secure a mate for the very near and immediate future.
it cannot be failed to be mentioned also that, unlike many other wild species, this particular primate breed chooses to mate not intentionally for the purposes of procreation. strange, but enough from the anthropological dias...
once we had overstayed our welcome, and left a vivid calling-card, my companions and i made our way out of this establishment and towards an unknown destination. as we traveled aimlessly thorugh the streets, we were lined by gawkers and lizards, mocking each step we took, mocking the very fact that we took steps, i believe, while they, of course, had had the foresight to have gained a place early and to while away their precious friday evening in standing against corners of various buildings and ogling passersby. their comments were indeciphirable and not even worth reprinting here, but one could glean the hints of sardonic cruelty in their guttural noises. they hated us for existing, i could tell, because somehow we were different. they reviled our very appearance, which i would regard as nothing of note and certainly nothing of danger. and yet, i felt a desperate love in their voices, i know that they needed us. because without us, they would have no reason to stand on the corner, and as far as im aware, considering that i will probably never see these indiviuals again, to me, they would have no reason to exist. unless of course it would be in sad and futile attempts to woo the female of their species (see above.)
finally our meandering led us to a sad hovel in the midst of some of the most desperate renditions of post-apocalyptica i have yet witnessed in my life. being of no surprise to me, i followed my crew and entered (abandoning all hope, of course.) there were many drones there, worker ants taking off the edge after another long week. the pulse was loud and monotonous and one could barely withstand a few steps into the place without lapsing into a trance. here the blood ran thick and swift, so i knew i would have to keep my wits about me. i would need some strong stuff to get me through this one. fortunately, i’ve learned that a strict diet of alcohol can make all the difference. it has the awesome power to make me see humour in such a place where there would otherwise be biting hatred. and so, having built up a forcefield of sorts, i felt strong enough to look around, to survey my surroundings, and most importantly, to formulate a plan of escape the second the necessity arose. i saw stretched before me a smorgasbord of near-sex and ultimate frustration, of lies and trumped-up braggings that really had only the most tenuous basis in reality. as i compared the world of the media and that of so-called “reality” i made a startling discovery: “NO ONE IS GETTING LAID TONITE!!!” You’re all so pathetic, so trying-what-i-saw-on-mtv that you fail to realize the way it plays out. if you had stuck around for the rest of the episode, you might have seen that joey didn’t hook up with mary, she blue-balled him and then he had to call her back a few times. then after several meaningless and unnececssarilly expensive dates, he finally made the move, only to find the lesson the conscientious reader already learned (above) now, joey is by himself, while mary is telling her friends about what an asshole that guy was, and how arent all men like that, when the whole time she’d been begging him to do it. and why? because were all too fucking scared to admit to ourselves and others what we really want. but then theres always the alternative, that joey did manage to weasel his way into mary, and now shes attatched, but hes not interested(see-arent all men like that?) or better yet, shes carrying a giant misnomer, a little bundle of joy, and again, hes not interested.
just as i thought i would lose the last shred of my sanity, two of my friends pulled me from the fire and into the still-seething though not as cramped sidewalk. after a short pause, i made my way home, reflecting on what i had seen.
i learned several things tonite. i learned that someone had been paid an obscene amount of money to write and record a song in which the only discernible lyrics i could guess were “she got a thong.” yes indeed, let it ring from the mountaintops, she got------a thong. i also learned that the world is still full of insane people, those who look at me as if im the freak. but yet again im sure, im not even here, im merely an observer, watching, noting, analyzing the crude and mostly predictable movements that this species makes. thats what i do, like those wallflowers from earlier, minus the nonsensically critical voice. they are my inspiration. yes the world is full of crazies. and thank god (or bog) that i live right in the middle of them.