Discerning Taste

I have it...and I know when I'm being shit on and lied to.  I despise actors.  I abhor other actors.  I believe that to be the reason i haven't flown the coup to be a part of the mass hysteria that is America.  They talk so very much about themselves.  No, scratch that...they converse only about others-those they know or who are related to in some fabulous and related fashion to their passionate endeavors on stage or film.  Fuck, it makes me want to wretch.  I was subjected to such scrutiny and masturbation this evening.  Though it is 2am I, low and behold, quite sober...and obviously angry.  I am not interested in verbal diarrhea-ing myself to complete strangers about what I've accomplished in the "theatre world"(it's small  and incestuous), nor am I concerned with who I've met/fucked/worked with or been born from.  Why cannot a real conversation occur between these people...I ask myself whilst consuming Tuborg at a furious rate?  There must be more to our feeble and empty lives than rehearsing regurgitated diatribes and tossing them to one another like a pile of steaming fecal matter.  I would have much rather carried on a convo with the waitress about Vegas and the drunken time she would have with her mommy than listen to another masturbatory statement about who has offered you what role and which director you "love more than life".  We people circulate round a drain of insecurity and ego...striving for recognition and appreciation in a false world of make believe.  I do my best to remain apart form this absolute cesspool of a wank fest but when immersed so fully without my permission, I get a little pissy.  I want more to offer the world than a good story and a fleeting remembrance of shit accomplished...it's only what we do, though ever passionate about, not....NOT who we are.  Now get me another fucking Tuborg.