I keep my anger in check for the most part. I’m furious with so much of the world, at my own existence, so much of the time I forget it’s there. I don’t feel like Mark Ruffalo really delivered the line to its full potential – I’m always angry. I think it’s why I can walk the streets unmolested almost anywhere. The poor fool that triggers me and unleashes this level of repression might just get his ass killed. At minimum, gravely wounded. Continue reading The Hulkette
It was an irritation at first. Oh no, I don’t have a phone. Gee whiz, that’s not convenient. I still went about my day. Made do with the silence. Kept all the appointments I had potentially made. I had a 16 candles moment on Friday, hoping to see the person I’d invited to the Moth. I didn’t really expect him to show. No follow-up is legit reason to not be there. My complete radio silence is reason enough to never think about me again. Alas, or something. Continue reading Phoneless in Seattle
No one really knows. Not knowing names keeps me level with everyone. I don’t get too attached. I’d rather know your dog’s name. I’m more likely to like your dog. The people I get along with are usually dog owners. My idea of interesting conversation makes most people uncomfortable. It’s like a rabbit hole and if you aren’t used to free-falling within a stranger’s consciousness it can be a little overwhelming at times. But that’s when I feel the most connection, that point where most shy away. Continue reading What’s My Name Bitch
I forgot one of my best tricks. Ask for coffee with a shot of Jameson on the side. That gets you two Irish coffees for the price of one. The ratio might be a bit off at first but you get used to it. Just like the taste of cheap beer. It’s not what you want but quantity outranks quality when you are killing time. I have nowhere else to go. Can’t even afford the cover at shows I want to support. The cheapest way to deal with it is get loaded during happy hour and play video games all night. Continue reading Happy Hour
I’m legit crazy. I’ve taken Prozac for the past two and half years to combat my ailment. I have another drug I take to keep my mood level because I’m not bipolar but still have self-destructive mania if I can’t keep it together. My hope is to find regular employment and be self-sufficient. This feels so impossible I’ve started self-identifying as disabled on my job applications. It only seems fair to warn them about my crazy. Continue reading Crazy Talk
Walking around in public,
Struggling to keep it together.
A massive burden I’m carrying
around like it’s not there.
Parading invisibly naked,
as if I’m a regular human.
Knowling I’m going to die.
The perspective of a statistic.
Never seen and rarely heard
Fulfilling destiny has never
Been so boring.
Smiles and handshakes.
Nice to meet yous and
This one’s on me.
Where are you from?
What do you do?
How long does it take
To get into your pants?
Depends on the path
And when it’s taken.
Or what I’m drinking.
I know two ways to relax.
Either have a good time
and forget about your worries.
Or sit alone and brood
Going over every layer
Personal deficiencies
Emotional insecurities
Awkward personalities.
Lay them all out straightOne atop the other
A neat stack of issues
Laid out on your bed.
Then
Sleep on the couch
I finally went out without caring for once. Don’t care how I look, don’t care how I act. I just didn’t care at all about life at that point. Going by the bar on a weekend night, I know better than to get noticed. Half the people I meet say they are regulars and yet I’ve never seen them. Regulars are there when I am. On weeknights or during the day. The slish-slosh Saturday nights you and your buddies love so much wouldn’t be there without the solid bones of weeknight regulars. Continue reading Puppy Love
My identity is ironic at this point. I’ve spent a couple years following my instincts, trying new things and staying positive. I’ve discovered delightful worlds that are fun to visit. I’m still looking for a place where I fit in. Someone told me I fit in at The Magic Hat but I don’t feel it. I’m only a performer if the world is a stage. I’m an audience member, at best. Granted being a good audience member has its own challenges.
I’ve altered my appearance as much as possible to express how I feel about who I am. A larger percentage of my body would be tattooed if I had the right resources. Maybe I’d be perceived as less of a white chick that way? I could try shaving my head completely but in my experience a good haircut has the same effect. I could try wearing different clothes however my experience suggests worrying about what I’m wearing is a step in the wrong direction. Otherwise I just keep being me and suffer as silently as possible. No one likes a complainer.
There’s a fundamental part of me that I still recognize from my youth. I remember being young and absorbing the things around me. I did my best to follow rules when they make sense and understood empathy very early. Questioning authority is the only real credit I have to my name. I’m not special and yet am treated better than others? I’m not challenged by anything except unrealistic expectations. I hate who I am almost as much as the person you think I am.
I actively Tindered this past week. The success formula for that app =Boredom + loneliness + No need to lie. It’s like wandering a giant house party in the metaverse. Everyone is just an extra on the stage of life but if you’re lucky, sometimes you come across a Featured Extra. That’s the best way to describe my approach and I’m wildly successful, statistically speaking.
I approach dating like I do chess. I know how all the pieces move but don’t give much thought to theory. I used to believe it was about who won the game, seeing as there’s a well-established history of chess competition. The game itself is so beautiful in its simplicity, making it a great equalizer. At first, I played to win. Studying theory and mastering technique, I initially improved my ability at a rapid pace. Learning new things is my sharpest skill. In dating and chess both, I eventually plateau but never stop loving the game.
Nowadays, I’m a frustrating person to play chess with. I essentially relearn the game every time I sit down for a match. I don’t ever expect to win. I think my record has more stalemates than checkmates in all honesty. That works really well because it’s not about the score anymore. If the game is fun, I’m winning. I go on dates with no expectations. My parameters for a successful evening adapt to my situation. Some of my best nights in Seattle were just me and a dead cell phone. I’m pretty good at making do.
My most recent bad date was a collection of tropes and narcissism. I took a chance and swiped right on a shirtless guy. He has nice eyes. Anyway, he’s cool to meet up right away (red flag) because he’s only in town for the weekend (red flag). I basically let him know he can come get a drink at my local haunt after I get off work that night. No pretense, just that’s-where-I’m-gonna-be. He makes it over there and we sit down for a beer. He spent the next hour telling me how smart he is and how he can tell I’m very intelligent too. He mentioned his burden of attractiveness at least twice. (Parade of flags.)
After poking his phone for the better part of the night he mentions he’s supposed to meet another girl in Cap Hill. Perfect, I’m ready to turn in anyway. He then goes on to inform me he’d rather keep hanging out with me back at my place. I tell him I don’t take people home on the first date. He mutters, “This isn’t a date,” and assures me I’m not his type so he had no intention of making a move for me. That’s when I laugh. First, he’d be lucky to get with this. More importantly, he isn’t listening. I have no intention of letting him know where I live. His confusion was complete at this point, “But, why?” You’re not that impressive, dear.
That wasn’t a bad date for the time spent. I had a couple drinks and some entertaining conversation. Ultimately though, he is an egocentric narcissist and way too similar to me. It’s like looking in a mirror from the past. Despite his assessment of my physical appearance I’m an attractive, bright person that is used to being the most intelligent person in the room. Except that I’m not anymore. I have learned intelligence is a category broader than brain function. Being smart in all parts of life is my tempered steel. It’s why the game isn’t about winning anymore, just doing my best.