Sunday, May 10, 2015

Part 8: Waiting On Oblivion

Is check endorsement a marketable skill?

I'm not sure I'll ever buy another place where to live. New York, Miami, London - I've got pads all over the world but for visitation only. I just can't generate an interest in having a "home" anymore. Having a home implies so many things that don't apply to me. I can't stay in my circle of friends either, not with what I know now so why let them be able to track me down. Frankly, I can't believe there's one person in the world with whom I can relate. How many 900 hundred million dollar self-aware losers do you know?

I snapped that pic of one of my cash transfers from my phone while staring at these 666 numbers that rule the world. I used to think it was enough to be able to pretend to be somebody. Christ, what was I thinking? That lie got my foot in the door, sure, like with the Woman Of Fabric, but then what? Shit, if only I hadn't tried to be somebody or something I wouldn't be in this goddam predicament. She made me want more. She made me need more. I broke my cardinal rule of never trying to step out of my shallow life. Now even that life is gone forever as I try to slither back in. Shit, shit, shit!

Staying at this hotel is no longer an option. You have to face someone every time you want to eat! Man, does that get old. I took a six month lease at the Mondrian bringing only a bean bag, an air mattress and a couple of electronics. From what I saw a bunch of SMU brats stay there living in their detached bubble world. I doubt our paths will cross much, however. I've got no time for that anymore either.

What do I have time for?

My money is like a weight. None of it is earned. And because I have no wealth of my own - nothing to offer - my money in essence owns me. Motherfucker. It's why you read about so many lottery winners pissing away all their cash. They can't wait to drop that weight. It's not even a matter of "deserving". It's a matter of being able to get because you have something to give. The Woman Of Fabric has that - and that's what truly keeps her alive, not the paycheck she so proudly manages with great fastidiousness.

But just as merely having money gives no purpose to one's life neither does not having money. Rich or poor I'm equally lost. It's true, I've felt so bad about my frivolous lifestyle that I've not let anyone in the door to my life. Perhaps if I had I would be in a different place now. The underlying guilt has been sabotaging my life. So that's what I've been running away from. Everything I tried to prevent from happening to my life by not exposing myself is exactly what did happen. Nature can't be bought.

So now I wait. The scam on which my crippled life depends will one day end as we turn our back on the money illusion. I intimated the Woman Of Fabric was a fraud and she actually took that to heart. Truth is, not one particle of my being believes that. In fact, to even suggest it is an absurdity and I expected her to call me out on my outrageous behavior and see it as a plea for help. It was simply my jealous attack to hide my own fraudulence. Fuck, who would ever think someone like her could value my opinion on anything? I'm just a check endorser, lady.

So now I sit inside my prison, dark hollow thoughts running through my head. "Lying Pete always said you would hang." Well, I sure do feel like a criminal. This is how people end up joining ISIS or the Railroad Commission (the Texas ISIS) or the dead army. Lots of organizations looking for lives with no direction of whom they can take advantage. I'm tired of trying. I'm way fucking tired of guessing. I have no idea where the Woman Of Fabric might have led me and now I'll never know.

I'm just waiting to die. Oblivion is my name.

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