Super Craptastic

I'm looking at a girl who looks like female version of Alan Rickman.

I'm in the subway station at the 2nd Ave stop, Lower East side New York. I've been traipsing around these points every other day for the last three weeks i've been here, and the stories are numerous. But i'm not feeling happy. Something is grinding at my insides--the little voids in this social vacuum we call our daily existence. For all intents and purposes I should feel good. But I'm not 100%.

This makes sense in an odd kind of way.

I got the emotional wind kicked out of me recently, and certain aspects of it re-entered my consciousness, just at the point when I didn't need it. I was on the phone with my sister last night trying to work out the meaning of pointless communication.

"What's the point of keeping in touch with people who aren't interested in seeing you?" I said.

"Well, " she responded. "I don't know how to answer that.

"And why is it that when i'm far away from certain people they become so interested in what i'm up to... but if i'm in the area they are like ghosts in my life?"

"Well," she said." I don't know how to answer that one either."

I can't answer it myself. Its become a tired routine, between myself and my significant others. I can be in their periphery, a stone's throw away and I don't hear anything. My cell phone becomes dead weight, and i wake up early on Saturday mornings feeling like a horny Grizzly bear in a land filled with male Shrews.

I can't bother to try and rationalize the circumstances, the events, the back story or the whatevers. I've come to realize like most people, that most things don't matter. What matters is what you want with your life, what you choose to take from it, and everything else is just... scenery.

Scenery like a long car ride from state to state. You look at it, occasionally something grabs your eye, sometimes you might stop for a while and get engaged with something, or you might stop for a long time before you get to your final stop. But its all fluff. Its all jibber jabber.

What matters is the end result. Sort of.

I haven't felt like writing humorous anecdotes about the girls i've met in New York, and now there are too many to write about properly. This city is pretty fun--I've partied on a Monday--but at the same time it has the "vacuum" that all major cities have. That quiet divide in between what you have to do, and what you want to do. Everyone is busy, everyone is working, but sometimes in between the work and the train rides, the little conversations with the person standing in line to grab a Subway sandwidch, or helping the man across the street, everything stops. Then you remember you are painfully alone.

You can disguise this sensation in some ways. You can play loud music, read books, go running. Fool yourself into feeling a sense of company by sitting in the presence of others in Parks, or going to the movies.. but there are those days when you can't fool yourself. This sadly, has been happening more often over the last several months than I like.

Its not a depressing feeling, because its a reality. If a guy doesn't have a girl friend and maybe two people he speaks to every now and then its a little social conundrum. Especially for a guy who has no trouble meeting and interacting with people. Its like life's antithesis to the "cool guy".

But I'm rambling. ( I will never... EVER say "I digress". I hate those two words. *brrrr*)

Do I want the flashing lights? Do I want the smiles of recognition from the masses? Do I want to be known?

I dunno. I'm a simple guy. Sometimes I just want to know that certain people close to me have a vested interested in me. That's a start.

I'm afraid of become one of those super jaded people who roam through life always thinking a little devil is following them around and watching all their positive circumstances then they poke a broom in your back and shout out "YOU'RE FUCKED LITTLE MAN!"

Alas, I think i'm already there. Feeling jaded isn't feeling depressed. Its reading the news and not feeling anything when people go missing. Not worrying about tomorrow even if people are going to start wailing on you with terrorist fist-jabs, and thinking every woman you meet will eventually screw you. (not in that way pervs!).

I should take notes from good old Shakes:

"... take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them?" Okay this barely relates to what i'm saying, but I love a good Shakes quote.

The only solace I can take from the burgeoning jadedness that is life, is to realize I have ample writing fodder. I don't have to be the only one feeling empty and floating around "this mortal coil", so can my characters! and I can make them screw (not in that way) the chicks too! Sweet eh? The pen can give sweet revenge... but that's a nerdy fantasy that never helps anyone, especially if the chicks that screw you (we've been over this) don't read your books. Lost cause dudes and babes. Lost cause.

But i'll figure it out. I'll reteach myself to twiddle my thumbs with glee if it means buying a huge f-ing box of chocolate and a teddy bear the size of my ex-girlfriend and loads of anime to take me back to my innocent teen years.

Till then, the humorous anecdotes will continue I guess... with a morose undertone.

Cheers to unexpected e-mails.