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“Misery is manifold. The wretchedness of earth is multiform. Overreaching the wide horizon as the rainbow, its hues are as various as the hues of that arch, - as distinct too, yet as intimately blended. Overreaching the wide horizon as the rainbow. How is it that from beauty I have derived a type of unloveliness? – from the covenant of peace a simile of sorrow? But as, in ethics, evil is a consequence of good, so, in fact, out of joy is sorrow born. Either the memory of past bliss is the anguish of to-day, or the agonies which are have their origin in the ecstasies which might have been.”
-Edgar Allan Poe
Six bucks for caffeine is fucking absurd. But I come here often anyway. I like it here on weekdays. Nice and peaceful. Those bloody baristas earning peanuts know me well enough to leave me the hell alone - none of that overly perky, friendly shit over the counter. I abhor that. Just take my money and make me my damn coffee already. But yeah, I gotta admit. This chick is one fine barista. I’d pay her to make my coffee and bring it to my bed every morning. Oh look at her stealing glances my way. Typical. She’s curious about me, just like her, the way they all are. I wouldn’t call it arrogance, but I guess I got the whole mysterious, eccentric thing going for me. Chicks dig it. I mean, look at me. I’m skinny, paired with crappy complexion and this shitty pair of glasses I’ve been wearing since I was nine? Not exactly Calvin Klein model material. But girls are easy. All you gotta do is compliment them. Now here’s the formula: openly be a jackass, throw in witty, odd remarks and always tell the truth. Now if it’s the brutal shit like their weight and crap excuse of a face? Mix in plenty of humor. Capitalize on your playful tone and the intense looks you give them that pierce right through. But never lie. That way, you can’t say you didn’t always tell them exactly how it is. You’ve always told it like it is.
Example: The very first morning after with her. Morning afters are always tricky but hey, I tackled this one just fine.
“I bet at the back of your mind you think I’m a slut.”
“Oh hon, it’s really not at the back of my mind.”
It was right smack up there at the front. But what does that even matter? They’re all the same. She wanted me. She wanted me bad. You could smell the sweet stench of desire a continent away. What I’ve learnt? Words mean shit. And here’s the grand irony: girls believe words, and the whole time I’ve been telling them I’m an asshole, but they bite the bait anyway. My conscience is clear. Girls are nothing but self-destructive things I have around me for fun and games. Nothing more.
Ahh. Now this is what I’m talkin’ about. Palahniuk’s Lullaby with Elliott Smith playing softly on my ipod. You’d think it’d be easy to have a moment of peace with a good book. But no, life and its mess. Jesus. All I crave for is Simple. Simple does it. Simple is good. Simple is perfect.
---
This is the moment that you know
That you told her that you loved her but you don't.
You touch her skin and then you think
That she is beautiful but she don't mean a thing to me.
Yeah, she is beautiful but she don't mean a thing to me.
“I think I love you,” I suddenly uttered, breaking the dark silence. Think? Who the fuck thinks they love someone?! Phonies, that’s who. People who don’t deserve the very hint of love, throwing the word around like it’s worth less than the ridiculous amount of comforting lies they tell themselves everyday – “just work a little harder and you’ll get that position”, “do good things and good things will come your way”, “of course my wife isn’t cheating on me”, “I’m ugly but my heart is made of gold”, “I’m heartless but it’s justified because I’m pretty”, “I’ll make a name of myself one day”; lies they’ve convinced themselves to buy because it’d be impossible to get through a day otherwise.
You love with your whole heart, your whole being on the fucking line, or you don’t at all. It doesn’t get to be half-assed like that. Only pussies deal with it that way. Yet, the bitch bought it. She didn’t want to, I know. But she did. I traced her face lightly and ever so gently. A man’s gotta be gentle with his personal whore. Good god, she’s beautiful. Overwhelmed me time and time again. “Pretty girl,” I whispered to her after a good round on my bed.
She was some girl from college, a friend’s friend. We hit it off right from the start and it wasn’t long before we became great friends. We did everything pretentious, as precious as it was. Went for talks about the philosophy of time and its non-existence, watched only foreign films and listened to obscure music. All was good clean fun. Of course things got messy one drunk night by my pool. Things always get fun when alcohol’s around. She puked on my favorite grey sweater from Japan. But it was alright because she looked cute drunk. It’s a good look on her compared to her not drunk. What an assuming bitch! She was merciless about my complexion and my thinning hair. But she was always compassionate about my shit of a condition. She was always kind when my joints decided to fuck me over, and always at perfect timings – when my deadlines are looming; never during the holidays when I can actually afford to lie prostrate and drown my sorry ass in the dying music of Jeff Buckley. She was funny and actually pretty smart if she wasn’t such a hopeless, harebrained mess all the damn time.
---
I spent two weeks in Silver lake
The California sun cascading down my face
There was a girl with light brown streaks,
And she was beautiful but she didn't mean a thing to me.
Yeah, she was beautiful but she didn't mean a thing to me.
We went to the lakes during summer break. My family used to go there every year. Well, before it got so dysfunctional. Heck, “dysfunctional” doesn’t even cut it. I miss those times. Happy times. Happy family times. Nothing close to that now. Yknow, now that I think back, why the hell did I even suggest bringing her there? That place is sacred to me. And she meant, no means, jack to me. But it was bliss, for lack of a better, less conventional word to describe it. I remember how we went skinny dipping even though it was motherfucking freezing. She dared me, and I tricked her into jumping in. And how we fucked by the river after? Good lord, that was amazing. Thing is, she was usually pretty bad. But when it was good? Words escape me. I hated how she got progressively harder and harder to please though. Who did she think she was, being all demanding like that?! She was nothing but a pretty friend turned convenient fuckbuddy. And then some, I suppose. I don’t know.
---
I wanted to believe in all the words that I was speaking,
As we moved together in the dark
And all the friends that I was telling
All the playful misspellings
and every bite I gave you left a mark
“I could die happy right now,” I told her one secret Thursday night. It was always in secret. It had to be a clandestine thing. I wasn’t lying when I said that. Never lie, remember? I meant it. I don’t know. That night, it just hit me, how that was enough, having her in my arms. She came over that afternoon and all we did was watch Minecraft videos on YouTube and walk the dogs. Headed over to the railway for a somewhat fancy dinner. I paid, as usual. She was always broke. Crappy money management and together with her greed when she had her hands on some cash? Nasty. But what did I care? I got plenty of dough to blow. And that she did, blow. Wasn’t great though. She couldn’t ever complete the job. I always had to help her, or rather myself, halfway. But whatever, a blowjob is a blowjob. Just like how a pretty face is a pretty face. Nothing more. I’d get lazy to go down on her. And insist she, me. She bitched and whined about it, but she did it anyhow. My personal whore. Mine. She let herself be mine. My conscience is clear.
I knew my wit won her over. Just like that. She was pretty easy. “I’m just fucking around with her,” I tell our mutual friend. A friend she made out with at some lame house party in a round of Truth or Dare. He told me he saw her the week earlier at some equally lame club. “The chick lost a heck lot of weight,” he said. What a skank she is.
Every sting struck her hard. God, we were poison for each other. I pulled at her tummy, thighs and arms. She was as insanely insecure as she was insanely secure. It didn’t make sense. For god’s sake, she didn’t make sense. It wasn’t much effort to make her doubt her worth. She started to drink too much a tad too often. And what next but late night calls from her, insisting to come over? Everyfuckingtime.
“No. Don’t come over. Not tonight.”
“Why the hell not?! So I’ll only come over whenever you want me to? How the fuck is that fair?!”
“Well only because we only ever do it at my place. Since your pathetic house has no room.”
“But.. I’m drunk. And I want you now.”
“Fuck off, bitch.”
---
Tiny vessels oozed into your neck
And formed the bruises
That you said you didn't want to fade
But they did, and so did I that day
I knew she was dying inside. Each time she came over, each time we “hung out” was eating at her guts little by little. “Heartwrenching” is probably too mild a word. I’m not the average asshole that can’t feel. Can I feel? Are you fucking kidding me!? Of course I can. I don’t want to, but I do. I feel it so thoroughly; seeping through my skin to my bones, into my veins, mingling with my blood and I can’t fucking stand it. But I insist. No guilt. Because I was honest right from day one. Breathe easy, inhale that damn cigarette, lose yourself in music – the only thing worth investing yourself in - and absorb everything intellectually. It’s all about the mind. No heart, only the mind. The mind transcends the fuckery that is emotions. Feelings are temporary. Why bother feeling if it’s only going to fade into nothingness in due time? I’m obviously above that.
“I’ll never want anyone else the way I want you.”
“Don’t be stupid. Yeah, that’s what you say now. But everyone leaves. It’s only a matter of time.”
“Don’t say shit like that. This is different! I’ve never met anyone like you.”
“Just listen to yourself! Goddamnit, you sound delirious.”
“You think I want to feel this way?! I’d give anything to stop this whole mess, asshole! I’m such a trainwreck all the fucking time! The hell did I do to deserve your mind games when all I’ve been is painfully honest to you?! That’s your field isn’t it? Honesty? I’ve been nothing but honest and yet you manage to carve some sort of fucked up game out of it. A game out of honesty. Who makes a virtue so tainted? Who does that?! I hate myself like this, you hear?! I fucking hate myself like this!”
She hated herself. I hated myself. How do you even begin to weld so much hate together like that? It was impossible between us. So they say hate stems from love. I don’t buy that bullshit. I want something pure. I’m not sure what it is, but it’s definitely not her. She’s ruined. And I? I want purity. Zero compromise. And there it is.. One fine day she leaves. Without any notice. As predicted. Women and their fickleness. Always insisting otherwise, but surprise surprise. You wake up one day and they’ve long packed and gone.
---
All I see are dark Grey clouds
In the distance moving closer with every hour
So when you ask "Is something wrong?"
I think "You're damn right there is but we can't talk about it now.
No, we can't talk about it now."
Yes, that’s nice. Ominous clouds. Let it pour heavy please. I’ve got my cup of coffee to keep me warm. Suits my heavy heart just fine. Pathetic fallacy, they say? Literary jargon that exists the same reason definitions exist – to comfort the hollow, pitiful travesty of a man that there’s some form of structure in this shithole we call Life. Closure is overrated. The Unspoken speaks for itself. Aristophanes was right; we’re always looking for some state of wholeness, something to complement you perfectly. Just like her I’m ruined to the very core and only something pure would befit my wretched soul. She was clearly nothing close to that. It stopped as abruptly as it began. The hilarity – everything comes full circle, doesn’t it?
---
So one last touch and then you'll go
And we'll pretend that it meant something so much more
But it was vile, and it was cheap
and you are beautiful but you don't mean a thing to me
yeah you are beautiful but you don't mean a thing to me
