I had to get out of my house.
I was getting very close to writing something stupid.
So I left.
Now I'm sitting in The Pub in Louisville. I'm drinking a yummy Newcastle (2778), and I'm probably about to write something stupid in this notebook.
But I'm not worried. I'm miles away from my home and my computer. I've got a mandatory buffer zone between what I write and anything that I might publish.
Besides, this way I can always blame the beer.
In the movie Team America: World Police there's a scene that goes something like:
Person one: I didn't mean to hurt you.
Person two: I know. You just didn't care if you did.
I know exactly how person two felt. I mean, if she was real and not a puppet, and if it was real life and not a movie, well then I'd know exactly how she felt.
I can't help but think back to the cruelest words ever said to me. Not said exactly. Texted. Those eleven fucking words. Yeah, I know exactly how that puppet chick felt.
(Having a Young's Double Chocolate Stout (383) now.)
That was almost two years ago, but it set the tone for most of the relationships and non-relationships and pseudo-relationships since then.
It's weird. You'd think that deliberate cruelty would be worse. Than apathy. Than ignorance.
But it's not.
I sat at home today, and I sit at this bar right now, and I just want to scream. I want to cry. I want to wail. I want to go into a rage. I want to spontaneously burst into flames.
I want to be noticed, for better or for worse. I'm fucking sick of being irrelevant.
(Having another Newcastle (2798) now.)
I could make myself be noticed. I could become relevant. It wouldn't even be that hard. I could end the apathy and the ignorance.
It would be easy.