My Compass is Crooked

I feel so unnecessary some days...an invalid in a valid world.  Imagine if you will an entire day spent as a fraud, a fake, a phony.  It's as though there is not an original thought in my head.  I exist as a fleshy regurgitation machine, spouting nonsense in sensical text so those valids around me can understand and tolerate.  Although, I haven't been spending too much time around originality lately so they probably wouldn't notice if I just began to spew absurd lyrics of a troubled soul in replace of my well-thought and preplanned organized bullshit.  I am a tape recorder sending out my message born of others' messages;  things I've heard, seen, done and had done to me.  I no longer create, but recapitulate.  I listen to those around me, attempting to discern the liars from reality...it gets more and more difficult everyday as I become one of them. I am a dissident forced into a poser frame, lying to myself and others.  They don't matter so much cuz they don't realize it anyway.  I do.  I see that I suck.  I can't quite figure it though...the changing part.  How to erupt from this shell, this casing of safety and be the person I was meant to be.  Quizzes abound and still no path to follow.  There is something in me that needs to get out...not like Alien, not evil anyway...that would be awesome though.  Maybe that's the only way growth happens.  It's not slow or progressive at all, but explosive and disgusting and sequels filled with Sigourney Weaver.  I love her, she's so weird.  What would be in charge then?  Who would run the show I call a life?  The way I live now...just isn't enough.  I am missing passion, excitement, fulfilment.  You should be able to have a taste of those every day.  I despise pretending like I'm happy.  Like what I do matters.  Why is the first question we ask anyone upon first meet, "What do you do?"  That is who we are.  That is depressing.  I may have hobbies, things that spur about my creative poser, but I spend more time working than all else.  I've chosen stability and money over value.  I don't value either of those things, and yet I choose them over spontaneity, freedom, intensity and stimulation EVERY time.  That makes no sense.  Nonsense.

Benefits of Being Gross

I long for the day that I will meet another human being(man wise) who loves my revolting ways;  Someone who not only tolerates, but appreciates the idiosyncratic behavior that makes me...me.  I would like to come home at two-twenty-five in the morning, stand precariously over a boiling pot of ichi-ban while stuffing my salivating yapper with Reese's pieces(stopping only momentarily to scarf down the little bastards that awkwardly fall to the floor), and have my lover say, "Fuck You're Beautiful..."  without a trace of sarcasm, my stupidly grinning face covered in salt, sugar and a little sadness, smiling foolishly.  Then I see men in their natural habitat: Screaming drunkenly from patios with beer in hand and intelligence lost at my friend and I as we simply pass by.  That's all it takes.  We are duck hunt targets acquired through a narrow scope(tits=female) and the onslaught of berating and degenerative remarks ensues.  What happened to conversation?  Buying a gal a drink and romancing her with your wit and humor?  Communication is a foreign entity in this techno saturated age.  I wish a dude would just fucking talk to me.  No pretense, no hollering, no offensive remarks intended to seduce my insecurity and send me streaming back to your illiterate arms...I want to be stimulated goddammit.  I want to be gross and have you aroused by the simple fact that I've responded to you in the way that I have.  I want you to look into my gaping and vulnerable face, see that I have substance and seduce me like you really give a fuck...no games, no falseness...just candor and rooted affection.  I despise tactics and long for effort.  I try every moment to be better...where is my equal?  My earnest partner in crime and vulgarity...I'll just get a dog and we can shit on doorsteps together.

WILD RAVAGED BEAST

There was a time when I had reasonable exchanges with others.  I can't think of one just now, but I know they occurred.  I miss those days of thinking the best of people, acting with grace and joy, and having those components of fulfillment returned to me.  Where did the days go where manners, courtesy, patience and compassion, however fleeting, ran rampant in the streets instead of screaming, swearing cunts who spew misery like infectious disease; incurable and sour.  I love to bike.  I go everywhere.  If you have read previous posts, you'll know my disdain however, for underpasses.  The roads are rarely safe for us lone two wheelers and underpasses are murder death kill.  I avoid them and on this particular balmy September afternoon was to be no different.  I should have risked death over my next experience.  I come upon this woman on the sidewalk, overweight, smelling of whatever dull job she suffers through, sauntering right dab in the center.  Me, being the courteous and self aware individual I have become, slowed down, climbed the grassy knoll parallel to the walking whale(I take that back, whales are far more peaceful.), and calmly announced that she was in the middle of the sidewalk...perhaps she had forgotten she lived in a city with a cool million.  Her response was of course sheepish apology, a smile, slight wave and grateful acknowledgement of her oversight.  That, in a reasonable world is what should have happened.  Like a wild, ravaged beast, this woman pawed the ground with her massive cracked and feces laden hoof, snarled and snorted all the air from her heaving, sweaty chest and spit the words "FUCK YOU" into my unsuspecting face.  Slowly rolling past, hardly phased for I expect awful behavior from all adults at all times, I proceeded to flip her off as the beast reared her giant greasy head in a continued rant soaked in cuss words and stinking saliva.  I forget sometimes that other people are around when deep in thought.  Therefore I keep to the right to allow others(even dreaded cyclists) to pass unimpeded.  Courtesy, thoughtfulness, nonexistent.  I wasn't rude, but man did she go there.  For some time too, screaming nonsense at me as I sped away.  Then I spent the next twenty minutes seething about what I should have said/done and my glorious fresh air bike ride was hindered briefly.  Briefly is too much time wasted on such an individual.  I seemingly ruined her day and her mine.  Why did I let it?  Well, it saddens me the state of things, especially in a city.  I miss the days of others always giving one the right of way.  Days of smiles and hellos when one passes by.  I do not miss honking out of impatience, angry retorts when clearly not provoked, degrees of emotion consisting only of anger, angrier and blame.  We blame one another for everything all of the time.  Won't someone take responsibility for being a fucking prick, apologize and get over it?  Nope.  We honk back, screaming at our passengers how idiotic the other guy is and hold on to hatred and fault for a lifetime.  I'm going to be a puppy when I grow up.  They only know hunger, smell, poop, and love.  Dogs love everything, everyone.  Bounding and frolicking about in a grassy place with their dutiful owners keeping an eye  Diligently unaware, blissful with the sensory world and...SQUIRREL!!!   

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...

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.

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. 

I Will Stab You In Yo Face

Yup, this is gonna be a rough one.  I must expel this negative festering of my soul to you, the multitudes(by that I mean you three people who follow my ravings and incessant rantings), before I am wholly  consumed and turned to an effervescent pile of pungent puke.  It has come to my attention that the majority of the world does not understand what it means to exist in public.  Public means: "Of, concerning, or affecting the community or the people."  It does not pertain to how loud and obnoxious a person can become because the space they are currently inhabiting is substantially larger.  I had a conversation this evening which illustrates the latter:

Bitch in native tongue: "Blahblah blah blahblahblah blah blah blah, at the top of her lungs for five minutes and then proceeded to hand the phone off to her equally annoying husband for five minutes more."  (Note: So I gave them the fucking opportunity to smarten up and move along.)
Me: "Excuse me, could you please take your conversation to another aisle, I can't concentrate with you talking directly behind me."
Bitch:  "It's a PUBLIC PLACE."
Me: "You are exactly correct.  That's why it is so important for you to show the utmost respect for the other people taking part in this PUBLIC PLACE."
Bitch:  "Another language, laughter, than final departure, on her own goddamn time of course."

Yes, a public place is designed for the public.  Living in a city however deems it extremely relevant to be courteous to those that we share this space with.  Cell phones drive me nuts on a regular basis anyhow, but these morons crossed a line.  Arguing the futile point that essentially they can act in the most obscene and manner-less fashion is not a rebuttal to my simple and ethical treatment of their flood of rude.  Being in a public place is exactly the reason to shut the fuck up and treat others with dignity.  I go out of my goddamned way every moment of the day to treat others exceptionally well.  Has the world gone mad?  We claim a universal space as our own, piss all over it, and then expect others to accept our urine as unwavering ownership.  I did not own that area of the store anymore than this couple did.  Nor did I have delusions of where I was or how I was conducting myself.  Why were they confused?  Why did Bitch not immediately apologize and waddle on to another space to piss in?  Instead I received petulance, argument, and aggression all neatly filled in a pee filled balloon and promptly tossed in my face.  Well, I see your pee filled balloon and I raise you a fist with keys lodged between my digits.  More than anything it makes me sad.  Perhaps I should have said nothing and allowed this rudeness to go unanswered.  Perhaps I should have just begun to punch...physical violence always rights the wrong, right?  I feel like the worlds mother in that, so many adults who should know better, simply, do not.  Therefore, I must right the ignorant attitudes of those whose parents kept such knowledge from them.  This is how terribleness begins and I will forever make it my goal in life to end the urination before it starts...