04 August, 2005
with my naked eye, i saw...

...some right gnarly shit.

despite a reasonable amount of sleep, the final twelve-hour ordeal close to buttoned down, and the promise of warm air circulating around my bare feet on the accelerator...

i have got a major case of blahs, one smelly-assed monkey i don't need on my back.

it's not "depression"... it's more like frustrating reality.
always with the $.
having to pass on live music opportunities.
the dissolution.
the wanting.
in other words, it's the same old shit in a different bag. i'm just adding this to the entries to see if there's a monthly trend, like male PMS.

now that would be depressing.

what triggered it? my fucking powers of observation, which i can't turn off, to save me. and, like a few weeks ago,it began with callous sophisticates.

at the yuppieGrocery, i was commissioned to get some soup for Akebono. behind the counter was a tiny hispanic lady, friendly and smiling. then, up strode the ubiquitous bubble-permed StepfordWife (how in God's name did so many blonde women descend upon this area? of course, with all of the waxings, you couldn't tell, anyway). obviously having been served minutes ago, to her dissatisfaction, all i heard her say to the server was, "next time i'm coming to you. these asians act as if it's coming out of their paycheck."

these asians. yeah, right.

these rich bitches. center of their own universes, just like their fucking conservative/anointed spouses. i know there's no justice... but i wouldn't mind seeing just a little bit falling where it needs to.

if the food wasn't so damned good, and the Puerto Rican cashier wasn't so nice to me, i'd blow that joint.

somehow, that little episode unearthed a reminder that there is a price to pay for everything.

it was sixth grade... which i recall as not one of my better academic years, nor a prosperous one at home. like every year at every school, there were those who had all of their desires lavished upon them, who, in turn, gravitated to those just as privileged.

and they were perfect little bastards, too. Malfoys, you'd call them now.

as the type is so prone to do, bred as they are with scentless shit, great sport comes from picking on those who are lesser. and, i'm not talking about myself, either.

"Joey" appeared in our class for the first and only time, that year. he must have been a fairly intelligent boy, since we were separated from "underachievers". at some point before he joined us, he had suffered a horrendous accident: he was helping his dad under their car, and somehow his skull was crushed under the frame when a jackstand collapsed.

naturally, his speech was difficult to understand... his features weren't handsome... and his gait was stilted from the brain damage. a delicious target for the Malfoys.

they taunted him. they mocked his speech. they made fun of how he walked. they ganged up on anyone who tried to intervene. they were never disciplined.

but, it caught up with them. eventually.

many years later, one was killed while out hunting. another was oft-divorced, and alcoholic. and yet another recently found that his young wife had cancer.

justice. delayed, or otherwise

watch your back, blondie.

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