Monday, August 03, 2009

What The Fly On The Wall Saw

Does it seem incongruous to be making Molotov cocktails while secretly dancing to the Go-Gos?



Sorry fucks! I'll show them. "We need your particular kind of genius, Rollie." Ha! Thought you hit my blind spot didn't you? "Oh, just flatter the idiot! He thinks he's a genius!" I AM a genius - which means I'm smart enough not to show you all my cards. And which also means your sorry ass will never see this Molotov cocktail hit you upside your arrogant ass head!



You people really think you got it all figured out, don't you? Hiding in your high-rise towers, licking the treads off the killing tanks and staying oh so appropriately inebriated. Yeah, dude, you got the game rigged in your favor. But there ain't no end game to it! Yeah I know, you're thinking you'll bow out before your time is due and it all comes crashing down. Heh - that's funny. I would KILL to see the look on your face when God sends you back to clean up your own mess!




God, I love this storage room! This must be the same sense of power terrorists get hiding in their caves. Live where they expect you to and they know where to hurt you. But hide in here with my radio and I'm just fine - if that goddam KLUV DJ would just shut his goddam mouth and stop talking over the music. You're not clever, dude! I'm marking this cocktail just for you! That'll teach you an appreciation for art.



This is my secret place, my Tabernacle, my Holy of Holies. I remember the trip across the desert. We all knew it was something special, something to mark you for all time. But it was too much! God, it was too much! Life had far more meaning than we ever expected working in those fucking mud pits. We all just sort of wigged out. And the pain, the searing pain of dying in the dry desert sun. I couldn't hold the line. I've never held the line...



Damn, it still gives me goose bumps. The song...the movie...the dream...the power of life. No one knows what I hold in my hands. Neither the dreams nor the disasters. Stupid fucks at the shelter wonder where I go. Hehe, I saw you try to tail me that one time! You thought it was bad luck losing me! That's the art of it. Make them think it's on them, nothing deliberate. Stings like a bitch, doesn't it, Eddie! I knew after the break I'd "miss" on the 5 ball! HAHAHA!





Oh, shit! Who the fuck is coming in here this time of night. Get your shit some other time, dude! (Or maybe it's a chick! But it never is.) You're interrupting me and this is my time, twitface! Jesus, haven't you people hogged enough of this goddam world already? Better head this off at the pass. No one ever really suspects I'm living in here but sometimes they get that "there's something wrong with this picture" feeling and need their fears allayed.



Whew. Those two guys have problems of their own. Could care less about me. Regardless, they think I just got tons of shit to take care of and am using the radio to help me pass the time. What kind of loser lives in a storage unit? I live in a world too pathetic to suspect. But it makes the desperate world around me crystal clear. So no one wants to hear what I got to say, eh? OK, fine. Get a load of Puff the Magic Bimmer blowing up in your fucking face. That'll get them to notice my "particular sort of genius."



I don't know what to do..."Hey, lady, wanna share my cot at the shelter? How 'bout my low rise condo at Mac's Self Storage Units?" I'm trapped like a dog, going out of my fucking mind! I can know, but I can't say. I can say, but I can't know. But if I combine what I know with what I say they'll know everything. Every fuckup I ever did. I hate it when they think I'm stupid. I hate it when they think I'm smart. They never know when it's just me from when it's me throwing a boomerang at their empty heads.





I'm gonna blow up all their precious shit. Makes them madder than hell! That's when I'll OWN them. When you sell your soul for your toys it makes it pretty goddam unbearable to watch 'em go up in smoke! Their whole fucking lives will center around nothing but catching me and protecting their holy fucking shit. I can't have a personal life, well, neither can you, buttmunch! I never told you to get a job! I never told you you don't deserve to eat! I never told you to go off and die! Who the fuck are you to tell me ANYTHING, you ignorant fuck! If you actually KNEW anything, you wouldn't be telling me anything at all!



Damn, that's the same song that played while I was driving around, skipping the prom in shame after committing social suicide. I can still see the sunset...

Dear God, please let me die. I don't want to be here anymore. Nothing I do does any good anyway. She's out of reach now...and if she finds out about me blowing shit up, she'll know it's because I need her. I'll be exposed before all the world. "He doesn't really care about justice. He just misses me."


Letters are written, never meaning to send

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