Before I knew it, it was a quarter past seven.
I had felt like I had gotten very little done with my day. Even though I could say the same about the past two days but those entailed human contact. whereas i don’t think i’ve spoken to a single person today. Just barely; a brief interaction with anthony about the internet going out.
Something is up with him. Some issue, some sort of mental health problem. Almost as if he has hoarder tendencies fixated upon anxieties where he plays video games or watches TV on his big screen all the time. Keeping him rather mute to it all. Plus he’s seemed rather edgy lately.
I don’t know why. Perhaps he liked that girl who had been coming and she turned him down, so he’s been down lately—it was weird.
Makes me think about the situation with his father living with us for practically a month. it seemed like an odd attempt to fix him up but only spurred on perhaps an odd resentment between us and his old man, as well as the dynamic between the two. Just too much to get caught up in these days.
I might be out of it myself. Still unable to reach what is bothering me like hell.
That fucking bartender, I hold the begrudging feelings towards. I felt good for a little bit imagining a great defeat over him by simply returning to the bar and just ‘killing him with kindness.’ But then i imagined and wondered—with deep uncertainty as to how I’d respond—if he were to hit back at me about how he fucked that girl and how much of a loser i was for not being able to get over this.
If you were the guy who didn’t care so much and thought it was all such a ‘simple learning experience’—why are you taking it profoundly personally?
It’s because you’re weak and you’re not as great as you make yourself out to be. You are covered with delusions of grandeur in moments of glee then take it back to reality in your dreams—ironically enough.
When you are home all alone and the fatigue kicks in. The fatigue from the reality you can’t cope with. It’s the awful pain setting in remorse for some kind of sin not committed but still permitting it to have acted out on you.
I was honest with her but to my chagrin she didn’t reciprocate that honesty.
The intensity from last night lingers. It’s a tough thing to live through the process of poorly built bridges overnight. Temporary due to an impending collapsing as the planners’ insistence on going with the unforeseen routes continued.
What happened last night though was a real fucking moment of putting me through the grinder. It was basically going ahead in such a manner that it totally fucked with me. He just said that one joke about the tourist destination and that’s when my low key demeanor really just blew up and I lost my shit. It was not a pretty scene. Quite awful in fact.
It was the moment I lost the evening I’m not sure how aware I was of it all but it was just too bizarre a situation. Too bizarre a night. They might have just decided to do it just ‘cause they simply felt the need to fuck with me—given my own demeanor and the words coming out of my mouth. Plus I think there was some kind of lack of chemistry going on.
I may have led the way to that night’s demise—but I could just be shaming myself. I guess too I was being very agreeable where she was turned on by the Rob Lowe- handsome guy behind the bar. Where I was basically laughing to myself ‘cause I was completely aware of the simple games the guy was playing.
Just that aspect of being very flirty and slightly difficult—in the way common cliche of himself. I guess maybe I should have said something about it. But I didn’t quite feel comfortable or sure it was a good idea to provoke such attention.
Though, since then I’ve had these dream where I played out all of my fears and nightmares. In it there seemed to be two aspects to it….
I can’t help but think of this recurring motif that seemed to live on throughout the night regarding old fashioned looks and apparel. Going from one scene of old school idyllic decor and then the more apparent in the form of pseudo-punk rebellion.
Just that fucking interaction really went into a wild direction where that guy where we finally spoke openly in the bathroom. He commented on how I really brought out my own destruction or downfall that night. He may have thanked me for doing it for his benefit, falling into his mind traps. It wasn’t good by one bit. He just started to mock me and how I couldn’t even close the door—and then I responded back by saying if they weren’t so cheap to not afford a proper bar to lock the thing. Then it wouldn’t be the case.
He continued with how disgusting my taking a shit was and I just shot back at him saying how much he loved it. Repeating myself.
After not helping but overhear how I was a bit boring or whatever, I returned.
Asking me what I was doing in the bathroom so long I just naturally talked about how I was finger banging the bartender. Then I said it again, emphasizing how much he loved it. Though they were just the last shots of heavy ammunition pointlessly used to defend whatever I had left of myself. Or say I may have felt.
It was funny, ‘cause the vibe of the bar totally lived up to the way in which it was posing itself as. The sleazy rocker bar where the bartender will attempt to steal your girlfriend.
I imagine again:
"You have the vibe of a rocker girl. The short hair and rubber jackets posing as leather."
"How do you feel right about now?"
"Umm… I’m alright…. How about you?"
"I’m feeling… interesting. I’m really sensitive to my surroundings—like hyper sensitive so I feel this great feeling of animosity or something like that but it’s filled with this real complex feeling inside. But all-in-all it feels good. I appreciate because it’s such a particularly unique feeling I’m quite glad I’m experiencing it."
That was an interesting moment…. I don’t know how I was gonna end up on this one. Though we rationalize our lack of income with the telling of programs none have actually used nor seen how useless they are.
ENDNOTES: ACCOMPANYING BACKGROUND TUNE (ABT): "Mellow My Mind" by Neil Young
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