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This is one of those days where I swear that I'm invisible (moreso than one of my fave diaries)... I gave up counting how many times I've asked a question, or made a remark with silence as the reply. Or was completely ignored, as if I was just a background noise, like a door closing, a sheet of paper falling to the floor. Well, fuck 'em. Total clusterfuck, from the first electronic buzz of the timeclock... though, it must be said, time has vaporized. Mmmm... dont like the word "vaporized" too much, today. It may be a word that will haunt me, in the not-too-distant future. So, "The Big Fool Says To Push on"... daddy couldn't get the job done the first time, so it's Junior's turn to avenge his Paw's honor, and the fambly name. Of course, his juvenile mind hasn't gotten around the concept that real people get "vaporized" by his actions, or that the UN was created to debate this shit and find a less virulent solution. 'Course not... what little brain he had went down the toilet during fraternity rush. And now, he feels "divinely" selected to push the red button... it just reminds me of a smartass comment we used to use in college: "I used to be all fucked up on drugs... now I'm all fucked up on the Lord." OK... saturation point. Pointless to keep frothing at the mouth over what cannot be changed. I just mourn the sacrifice that some are going to have to bear for someone's else's ego trip. Hell, as close to Dulles as I am, it could very well be me. I also mourn the ignorance that I hear around me... the old "send 'em all back where they came from" shite, coming from those whose only exposure to the news is F0x or USA T0day. Or the gun shop. Thinking of which, I just heard that M*S*N*B*C has got a ticker in the corner of their televised broadcasts, counting down the 48 hours to showdown. I suppose D1sney will drop the ball on Time's Square when time's up... whatever excites the populace, and speeds revenue to the sponsors. MOTHERFUCKERS. I think I'll pretend to have a bout of Tourette's, now. Not really, Pam. .............................................................................................................................................................................................. It dawned on me, the subliminal irritation that's been nagging at me, all day... this would have been my brother's birthday. He's been gone since 1988, though... you'd think that fact would have been buried, as well. Not so, today. Sorting through old slides, this weekend, planted the seed. I still recall when he was born, though I was only four, myself. Somebody conned me into thinking that he'd given me some Pla-Doh, as soon as he popped out. As if. After his father skipped out (no doubt, due to the constant bitching), it was my responsibility to set an example for him to follow... though there was some bad influence in the mix. Music. Women. Fast cars. Growing up and experiencing much together. He'd been diagnosed with diabetes when he was eleven... damn near comatose, before the mad dash to the hospital in the night. This would be the demon that would eventually consume him... though not until he lost his eyesight, the use of his kidneys, the feeling in his fingers and toes. And his will to live. He fought it, in his own way, with a .38 in the bathroom of his apartment... and left a vacuum that still will no allow light to pass through. In his wake, he left his girlfriend. Who became my wife. |
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