Sunday, August 14, 2011

Pinot Grigio

I have found a true love...he's rich, deep, creatively endowed and motherfuckin' tasty.  If only my men could be so endearing...so adaptable.  I "Get You', you son of a bitch.  You must be none other, for only a bitch would raise someone so inefficient and spineless.  You knew I loved you...for years.  For only our friendship, in its entirety did I worship the fucking ground you tread upon.  Though, I never confessed these fateful words, you knew, and I knew that you knew and still...STILL, nothing came to fruition.  I longed for, nay continue to long for the day that you sweep me up into your arms and caress me with your all.  I scan your facebook page consecutively, for this I despise technology.  I long for a time where actual contact replaced these empty searches...these false creepings.  I am creepy.  I accept it.  I also accept that you have long moved on, and here I am...lost, longing and empty.  No man will ever compare...nor could they, for you are perfection.  I never knew you in a physical sense, perhaps not in an emotional sense either, but somehow you will always be the one.  I understand that in life, you don't always get who you want.  Whomever has hung around the longest, seen you through the worst...etc...that's who you'll end up with.  It has little to do with fate, or passion, or time.  More so with "timing" than anything else.  Breaks my heart really.  Every day.  People always say to me and by people I mean Mom...they say, "You're still young...you have time."  What does that fucking mean?  Time is irrelevant.  Love does not always keep, unless you're lucky...or lesbian.  Times like these, I wish I had a giant joint with a baggy in the freezer.  Ugh, my honesty is disgusting me at this point.  I am grateful.  Don't get me wrong.  However, life equates nothing without love.  God or no God, loneliness...so much space...bigger and bigger.  I lie to myself to keep sane...but these lies...bigger and bigger.  Someday I will be consumed and exist not as Rhandi, but as a black hole formerly known as Rhandi.  Sucking in light, life and time...but a demon in the sack.  Ah, my friend Pinot...gets me every time...

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Love Lives of the Camponotus

I have shackled myself to the concept that my life had meaning.  Every action, reaction and especially coincidence had some greater purpose/effect on my reality.  It was as though this incalculable river of mystery ran beneath every thought, driving me towards some pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.  Like in Ghostbusters 2...the oozing pink sludge running beneath the city of New York...aware and longing to be fed.  Well, we find out that that toxic sludge can be killed with song and that the pot of gold can never be reached, no matter how diligent the chase.  Also, Slimer wouldn't have been around to be a laugh riot and Bob Mckenzies' counterpart, for death comes to us all, Mary Agnes and it does not entail disturbed apparitions who get off on a gorge.  Through some realizations, I am uncovering so many puzzles pertaining to my life thus far.  Such as, if I get hit by a car on my bicyclette and become paralyzed by way of body or brain, it is not written in the stars by some great design.  It was an accident, and now I'm fucked.  I don't like wearing helmets, and my ability to reason out of protecting the old noggin was that God wouldn't let anything atrocious happen to me...and if he did, it would be written as such and suppose to be.  If I see someone I knew in the past in the present in a city of a cool million(other ants bumping around till we all find the dirt), it's simply a happening.  It has no relevance or great bearing to where I am or where I need to be.  My decisions about these ideas have propelled me through life with a sense of being larger and more powerful than the other bugs.  Like I was part of something bigger, secret, and impressively opulent.  I feel smaller now...a sub-atomic particle blinking in and out of existence with no attachments, no giant question to be unearthed.  Finding comfort now in things I use to, sicken me.  I love, love and watching others serendipitously sus out a soul mate warmed my heart.  Now I want to scream, "Hey, you there...you met in a bar, smelled a pheromone you found favorable and fucked.  Your children will be the downfall of society and your hatred for one another will grow exponentially until you both welcome death as a release from his apathetic screwing around, and your nagging unappealing wrinkle puss."  I once believed that there was one person for every one.  As though you were born two halves split apart and destined to rejoin and make each other whole.  Nonsense.  We scramble about, pretending our lives and choices sustain a life of substance...stumble upon someone who doesn't make our skin crawl...the end.  No wonder 51% of marriage ends in divorce.  We lie to ourselves and each other and expect love to blossom, when instead it turns brown and chokes like my peace lily...what the hell is wrong with that thing.  Nothing I do makes it happy.  I guess we need to break up so I can find a new, greener, happier to be with me one.  There, now that's love.

Monday, August 8, 2011

CULT LOGIC

Stephen Hawking has proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that there is no God.  Through mathematics, quantum physics and understanding the laws of nature, he has reached a conclusion we've been striving for since the dawn of man.  We are all alone.  There is no higher power, no deeper meaning...just us, the things we do or do not, and the people we love.  I'm not sure how this sits with me presently.  Immediately I was overwhelmed with sadness;  As though this great loss befell me...a death perhaps.  I thought about my past and how so many times I chose a path unbecoming of my motivations because I assumed a benevolent creator would have my back and remedy it all throughout my existence.  Such is not the case.  If their be not a creator of life, than an afterlife is also unrealistic.  So this is it.  We have 80 years or so on a planet thrust out into space and time to grow up, suffer and perish.  This may sound bleak to you but I feel largely liberated.  There is no destiny, no ordained path of choice that leads to an end which leads to a beginning.  I always felt as though I would have an infinite amount of time to accomplish what I needed to be fulfilled on all levels.  Now, once I'm gone, I'll be worm food and nothing more.  No romance, no cumulus nimbi to perch upon, no playing wiffle ball with Grandma while I meet my dad again.  This last revelation hurt my feelings a bit.  Not necessarily because I wouldn't see them again, but that I squandered the time available to me when they were an arms length away.  My grandmas' energy will never be in the form it was when I knew her...she's probably feeding the fish somewhere, and nor will mine.  So I ask, is eighty years enough to do what needs to be done?  If we don't waste it, certainly.  I always thought people who went to church and practiced some form of religion were weak(spiritually and mentally) and now I know for sure.  How ridiculous it seems now to put all hope, dreams, and power into the hands of an omnipotent farce.  I understand that people go through wretched times and perhaps believing in a higher power got them through...but if that fallacy was never put into play thirty thousand years ago(yeah, is anyone else disturbed by the fact that we haven't evolved past neolithic scribblings on cave walls?), what would these empty simpletons cling to?  Each other perhaps?  Or would we all find solace in science?  Knowing that I am the decider, the purveyor of my means to an end...comforts be beyond reproach.  Though my past may be filled with regrets, I can now choose differently.  I can choose.  It's not in the giant hands of some floating fart on a fluffy cloud, but in mine.  If my life goes unfulfilled, baron and cold, well that was my doing and no one elses'.  This is what disturbs me about rehabilitation .  If you want to do drugs, and drink liquor for your time on this planet, super.  You want to alienate those who love you most and destroy your humanity through drink or dope, have at 'er.  If you choose to get clean by means of surrendering yourself to a "higher power", you are severely fucked.  I can't believe you people(addicts and their co-conspirators/counselors) call your selfish excess a "disease" and then with fear driving your gluttony, throw yourself on the mercy of something that never has nor ever will exist to change your patterns of behavior.  All you've done is glamorize being a dick-hole by feeding excuses to those who've generated plenty through delusions and provided them with an easy out when they inevitably fail.  "God, let me down.  God has forsaken me.  God isn't listening."  Well, now you know how your loved ones feel about you.  We all make choices and without God as an excuse for our loathsome behavior, we're forced to look within at how terrible we really are.  Once you sift through that nonsense, maybe the shit underneath will be worth taking a look at.  I "pray" mine is.