i have endured great pangs of grief and acrimony to bring you this small kernal of truth - picked from a sliver in time.
it's a quiet night at jim's, and roger is boisterous, as he exaults...
"you gotta see this girl, chris. she's so sweet and pretty...god, she's so pretty, chris. i just...i love that little girl."
i responded "that's great, dude. i wish i felt that way about someone...or something. anything, to tell you the truth."
the mantra continues.
"chris, i'm tellin' ya...i'll give her a foot rub...and she's got the cutest little chubby toes. i swear on everything i ever loved i'd marry that girl. but, hell...i couldn't really do that. i mean...it'd complicate her life with her family. you know what i mean, homie?"
"yeah, roger. i know what ya mean."
roger exclaims "oooooo!!! she's here! dude, you gotta see this girl. god, i love this girl."
"cool" was the extent of my wordy retort. he bolts to the back door, and welcomes her inside.
roger introduces us. it seems more than most forget that these days.
"chris. this is heather. heather, this is chris."
"hey - it's nice to meet you" i said. she responded, with a poilte, funeral smile "nice to meet you too".
"isn't she just beautiful?" roger inquired. "[she's a] pretty girl. yes she is." >.>
"turn around, heather" he gently commands.
o.O "hehehe...wow" i thought.
"go ahead, heather - turn around." he repeats, and she proceeds to spin around like one of those music box ballerinas. she almost had me convinced that it didn't annoy her to the core.
can you hear that sweet music box melody? yeah. neither can i. >.>
after that awkward and shameful moment, they sat down, and settled into idle banter. though for me, the sting of it lingered.
v.v
i've worn many labels: loser, freak, nobody, nutcase, session man for depeche mode. though through the years, i think "romantic" is the one that fits me best. i'm sorry, but...why did that pretty, young lady let roger fuckin' gentry parade her around like some...goddamn dime-store dancin' pony slut?
roxicet. roger had promised her a roxicet.
that is my final answer.
thank you, regis.
heather was at least a little dope-sick, and she knows roger is nuts about her. she also knows why. all of roger's part-time girlfriends have three things in common.
1) they're attractive in that kind of universal sense.
2) they're young - much younger then him.
3) they're strung-the-fuck out on oxycodone instant-release.
he had a couple of points to prove with that look-at-who-cool-i-am-because-i-can-make-this-girl-do-whatever-the-fuck-i-say move: one; that she was as cute as he claimed. two; that she would actually do it. he WANTED me to see that. he WANTED me to know that he had that kind of stroke with a girl half his age. it was a adolesent display of prowess. roger is like anyone who has steadily consumed drugs from...16 to 50; the maturity level at the point of entry is stunted, and remains so until they leave it behind - which is why i think few ever do so on a permanent basis. it's hard to look at a lifetime of drug enthusiasm, with all its wild nights and funny, poignant moments, and then decide "i have to stop. i have wasted so much of my health, my life...too much on this. it's time to grow up - time to get my shit together." i think the weight of regret like that is more than most can bear. it would be like growing old all at once, and that's just too much to ask of anyone. so we push the truth into a hallway closet and cover it with old t-shirts and back-issues of rolling stone and move forward with the business of bullshitting ourselves - the business of being the toxic, eternal 22 year old we've always been.
heather, and the others in his shapeshifting harem, is part of his raging youth/drug ritual. he's as hooked on 24 year old girls as much as he is on schedule 2 narcotics. in fact, both halves of that diode serve the exact same purpose - sort of like a yin/yang type relationship. in tandom, they summon a force greater than any other in the human experience - the power of youth. when he's higher than boat gas, and spinning a hot, young thing around in front of another man, he is the man has always knew he was - the man he could be. the fact that he has to ply her with drugs, not to mention her "19 boyfriends" - as he puts it, doesn't seem to bother him. it is the state of things today.
these are thin days in america, and there's not enough to go around. we have always been creatures of currency here, but in yesteryear it was easier to hide that part of ourselves from one another. that is no longer the case. tough times foster bitterness and short tempers, and amplify all of our wants and insecurities. fear, struggle, and media saturation have turned us into the worst kind of joan collins characture: greedy, vain, callous, and shameless, we go from work to home, to church, school. to the store, to the bar, to football games, and to the doctor. there is no escape from the pressure that keeps us pushing and stretching ourselves into oblivian.
television has been drilling the message home for well over a half century, and the internet is the new kid on the block. pumped full of streroids, and absolutely driven to surpass television in every conceivable way to be the new king of the media hill - like one of those teacher vs. student scenes from some cheesy martial-arts flick. by the way, here's a quick addendum: someone in karlsbad, new jersey just farted and accidently shit themselves. do you know how i know? because facebook sent a superpostioned message to my e-mail, my phone, and somehow...wrote it on the door of my non-existent apartment simultaniously in mark zuckerberg's own cold, humorless blood. the fact that privacy is no longer among the living has become a given - i guess it's to the point that even mentioning it is pajorative and redundant. there is simply no escaping the propaganda: buy more. have more. be more. steal if you have to, but for the fuckin' love of god...get out there buy something. don't think. never react. refuse to feel. obey the ethic. be a good amercan. and with web 2.0, it's more than just a top-down we-are-viacom-so-do-what-we-tell-you-to-do aestethic. it's also a bottom-up we-are-facebook-so-do-what-we-say-or-we'll-remove-you-from-the-herd-so-you'll-have-to-churn-your-own-fuckin'-goddamn-butter aestethic. the pressure coming from both ends is so pervasive, it seems normal. hell, it is normal. the new normal. the new happiness.
this is what the soccer mom, the new-age christian, the nra, the cia, the pta, and the pointless beat cop will never, ever understand: you could eradicate drugs, porn, guns, and paganism tomorrow, and it wouldn't matter. you could collect every quarter, nickel, dime, penny, personal check, stock, bond, bank statement, and promisary note in the entire country, divide them equally among every miserable, mouth-breathin' drone old enough to pray, fuck, and purchase - it wouldn't mean a goddamn thing. truth is bartered. currency is relative. praise the lord! hail satan! log in and kill. survive. randy - would you please bring me some goddamn adderal.
and this is why i don't fit in with this post-modern america at all: i'm simply not wired for it. my thought was not "hells yes roger! you the man! gimme a fist bump, homie.", it was "how could you humiliate that girl like that - especially after alegedly liking her as much as you said?" "why do you care whether or not i see how prolific her ass is?", and finally "damn, roger - do you think i didn't notice how cute she really is?" that makes me think you're questioning my powers of perception, and that's just plain offensive, homie. but with all that said, roger and the lovely heather are mild offenders compared to the shit i witness every fuckin' day from the hordes of twitter devotees falling all over themselves to do and be whatever a world of pixelated friendsters tell them being a man or woman of the world requires in the third millenium. in a perfect world, roger would've left the room and the conversation would've continued thusly.
me - hey heather.
heather - yes?
me - you know...you shouldn't let people treat you like that just to get a pill.
heather, bursting with revelation - omfg!!! you are so right!!! wtf have i been thinking all these years? i'm gonna take back my soul and live the way i was always meant to. i'm more than a number - more than a property. i am more than the sum of my parts!!!
me - that's awesome, heather. wanna fuck?
heather - hells yes!!!
p.s. i don't know if heather is actually her name. i can't remember. i've been high since then. sue me.
