Bore-dom

Nothing much really happens here anymore. Nothing worth talking about at least. I mean hell, it's been what? Three months since we last found a dead body?

I remember this one time, back in high school, where I woke up feeling sick in the middle of the night. I didn't sleep again for damn near a week.

This was back before I had my driver's license, back before I had more then two close friends, back before I had 600 dvd's, before I drank, before I masturbated, before I did anything that could really help pass the time.

So I did nothing.

That week sort of ran together in an awkward stew of colors and sounds none of which really meant anything at the time. But now, for some reason, they do.

That was good nothing. The kind of nothing you can hang your hat on at the end of a long happy life. Not the kind of nothing which drives you half mad. The kind of nothing that's been dogging me lately.

So this weekend I drank (twice), wrote (once), and spent far too much money in a place featuring women with far too little clothing.

I almost enjoyed myself.

It was a curious weekend, but one that shit me out in the exact same state it swallowed me up in.

Same old shit, you know?

People

"People are rarely ever all that good, and rarely ever all that bad. 'bout the only thing you can ever count on people to be is...well, people...to the bitter fucking end." - T.O. Hob

I had chinese food on Thursday. That in and of itself isn't all that odd. Fact it's sort of normal. But in the hustle and bustle of another busy day I never did manage to open my fortune cookie. Now look, most people don't pay no mind to things like that, but for some reason I tend to put more stock in any wisdom that comes with food attached to it, and have always held in high regard the wisdom of the fortune cookie. There's even a small ritual about it. First you crack the cookie in two and slowly pull the halves apart. Whichever part ends up absent the fortune you eat first. When that half is done, and not before, you may read the fortune. If it's a good fortune you slowly eat the other half of the cookie. If it's a bad fortune you eat the other half real quick, because it don't deserve the respect (but of course since you already got some bad luck coming why waste half a cookie.)

So Friday morning I'm sifting through the miserable pile of shit on my desk when I find aforementioned cookie. I say "Why look a fortune cookie." My brother says, "So?" And I say, "I haven't had chinese food today." He says, "Must be from before." I reply (quite honestly), "Must be. But it doesn't seem much like me to have a cookie and not eat it." And it certainly does not.

So I commence with the ritual. And what does my fortune say? "The weekend will bring you a surprise." Not exactly Confucious but here's to hoping.

It was a long weekend, a good one, but one with many amusing setbacks and delays but when Sunday night came I was sitting in my office banging away at payroll. Not a surprise in sight.

I headed home and bunked down for the night. I was laying in bed staring at the ceiling just past midnight when it hit me. Nothing surprising had happened. Not a single thing.

Damn.

I really believed in that one.

I was really surprised that nothing had happened...and there it was.

The worst sort of surprise on an otherwise excellent weekend.

"I've decided I'm going to kill myself when I turn 103 by fucking a sixteen year old virgin while her twin sisters suck my balls and her mother licks my asshole. At that age the sheer lasciviousness of it all should do me in...Why are you crying?"

"Because that's the most beautiful goddamn thing I ever did hear."

"Fucking poetry."