Life isn’t always pretty. If you look at the road outside your home you will see it has cracks, spills, holes, litter – all manner of things that can keep it from being a pretty metaphor. Even the nicest of people have their bad road.
I jump now to the film The Rum Diary. In this film Johnny Depp plays the fictional version of a young Hunter S. Thompson; a character named Paul Kemp. This early work of Thompson’s was in line with his other “fictional” tales, or novels. Basically, an elaborate and imaginative version of his life. Produced posthumously, Depp wanted to make this film as a tribute to his dearly departed friend. Wanted to honor the moment when the young journalist “found his voice”. Or, as Depp calls it, his “rage”.
If you are not a fan of the late Doctor, then this film is not for you. For die-hards like myself, it was a treat to see Depp don the the good Doctor one more time.
The reason I bring this up is that I am realizing just how much I censor myself when I write. Even music. I realize I have mentioned this before. As with anything, time tends to make certain things clearer. Hindsight and perspective make for excellent lenses when looking at oneself for any period of time. I still care when I know I shouldn’t. Still edit and rearrange. Even in songs, I hide certain things. Well, I am done with that. I have already experienced the social pariah aspect of “writing your truth”. What do I really have to lose that I haven’t already? Friends? Invites? I guess the real question I have asked myself every single day for the entirety of my life is, “What are you so afraid of?”
I want to find my voice. Find my rage. I want to be fearless in my subjects and language. I want to write about sex and drugs and rock and roll. I want to scream at the top of my lungs “LISTEN TO ME! I AM HERE, DAMMIT! MY VOICE IS REAL!” I want to tell people to fuck off. I want to burn every bridge that is capable of being burned, because it needed to be built better anyway.
I have done my time as the silver lining man. Changed perspective and happier times. All poetry and music. The gentle friendly sap philosopher with his tales of inspiration and boredom. I did it. It’s not for me. I like the dark, quite frankly. It’s much more interesting in here. All my favorites are the tragic ones, because they created the most beautiful works. Beethoven, Van Gogh, Hemingway, Elliott Smith. Even John Lennon was dark if you really listen. He wanted peace because he didn’t want the world to feel thew same way he did – insecure and lonely. I am tired of a lot of things in my life at the moment. The thing I am most tired of is attempting to curb who I am so I am more acceptable to those around me.
As I said, I have already lost so much. Yet, here I am. Add me to the list of things that will survive nuclear holocaust. Roaches, Twinkies and me.
The truth is, I am angry. Incredibly angry. I have done my best to meditate and release it to the universe. I have even tried to deny it and move on. I’m done. If you don’t like it, or I don’t “fit in” because of it – so be it. What the f*ck else is new?
I am exhausted from all my efforts at being acceptable and finding forgiveness. Totally and completely exhausted. What’s important is with me. My mother and my son. The only two people who really know me and love me exactly as I am. They don’t ignore me when I ask them a question, or not respond when I say hello. They do not say one thing to me, and another when I am not around. They do not smile when they see me if they don’t mean it, and they always do.
I feel hatred. Anger and hatred. I am not afraid of it any more, because it’s the truth. I can pretend it’s not, sure. But, why? How is that healthy or wise? All that is is my head saying, “That’s not socially acceptable to say, dude. You’re gonna scare people.” Well, you know what? If it scares you, then maybe it’s your issue and not mine. Maybe you aren’t being honest with yourself either.
With that; Fuck the Twilight books. Fuck trends. Fuck the rich. Fuck politics. Fuck corporations and banks. Fuck banks. Fuck money. Fuck violent people. Fuck American Idol – and every show like it. Fuck “Reality TV”. Fuck FOX for canceling Firefly. Fuck the first girl who every cheated on me, and fuck the guy who fucked her. Fuck the Disney channel. Fuck the medical profession for not providing top care to people who cannot afford it. Fuck cancer and AIDS and Huntington’s disease. Fuck the SciFi channel for changing it to SyFy. Fuck people who play on other people’s insecurities. Fuck people who don’t care. Fuck cowards and prideful assholes. Fuck the ignorant judgmental liars. Fuck people who drive too fast through neighborhoods. Fuck people who talk on cell phones or text when driving. Fuck people who talk on cell phones at the register. Fuck those guys at the back of my math class who keep talking. Fuck that dudes hair. Fuck the bullshit they play on the radio. Fuck sacrificing art and integrity for the sake of a buck. Fuck people who don’t give out candy on Halloween. Fuck every evil prick that made it too scary for kids to play outdoors or walk to school alone. Fuck Starbucks for having one on every fricken’ corner. Fuck that guy who stopped in front of the house and yelled obscenities at my mom. Fuck people who abuse or take for granted. Fuck rapists and pedophiles. Fuck swing dancing douchebags. Fuck hipsters. Fuck yo couch! Fuck it all.
I want to watch it burn.