I suppose being startled at how fake, shallow or insincere many peeps seem nowadays shouldn't come as much of a shock treatment. It galvanized a part of me, and it caused me despair at times. I found 90% of what most people spoke or said to be predictable and meaningless drivel, programmed responses, reactionary reactions. They spent more time hiding what they wanted to say or struggled with this pseudo sense of half hearted manners. I saw that most people saw other people not as potential friends that could better their own lives but instead just this mentality of 'how can I take advantage of this person, how might they possibly benefit my existence?' and yeah I'm fully aware that everyone wants a piece of the pie...or have their own infomercial to con the working class into buying into their clever little pyramid schemes.

Person's I'd trusted always let me down, and I don't hold it against them very much...it's just who they are. Maybe they're simply too self involved, absorbed, whatever. I honestly don't give a flying fuck about their pathetic excuses or level of busy their lives may seem. If the desire is there then so is the action. Most of my boi's were these lazy bums with absolutely no ambitions, depth, substance...only corporate slaves and charlatans. They had nothing to teach me, or to bring to the proverbial table so to speak. I got sick of being some kinda demi-deity to them. Life wasn't a spectator sport, and I had no love of philosophy except for the sort that was applicable and didn't cause a brain meltdown.

I felt myself floating, rising up out of my own body, and I was in a strange mode of being. Here I was partying it up on New Years Eve, surrounded by bright and polished beings...some attractive, and some not so much...all of them seemed nice, doesn't everybody seem 'nice' nowadays? I briefly pondered whether any of them really gave two shits that I hosted a tight soiree with lotsa good food and vibes but then it didn't matter much. I didn't get so much as a single thanks, or even a phone call of appreciation....not that I required it. Hell I'd undoubtedly fall over myself if that actually transpired. Common sense isn't very common these days, and common courtesy is a concept that existed in the Victorian era. I powerdrank the night away, downing endless beer after beer.

My mind dwelt on my former friend Hank, who has two girls now and is married to a Polish chick he met several years ago at Excalibur, a rather trashy meat market in the tourist sector of Downtown Chicago. Of course I understand fatherhood must be agonizing and demanding. He's a manager at a Walgreens in Glenview, working his ass off like a Hebrew slave. Whenever he comes to mind all of our escapades and mishap adventures play into mind, and you forget how much you miss certain times in your life when persons you miss to death are no longer in your present timeline. Our crazy Mexican madman Antonio, aka Tony Balony as I'd always refer to him as. We were all the Fallen Angels, a term that stuck in Hank's head and caught on.

Of course we've all moved on from those wild glorious heydays....dare say matured and evolved. No longer dangerously reckless fools crashing through life like demons on a warpath. Still, I'd very much like to chronicle all of our craziness in a mini-drama of several postings. Sorta like a short-story, an excercise of the creative muscle. It seemed as one grows older, friendlessness sets in. Maybe I'm just too picky, have terribly high standards. I give my all, so I don't abide laxidasial no reciprocating fucktards in my life. They can all go rot in hell for all I give a damn!

I went to a interview in Evanston today, a charming quaint little township north of Chicago. From the Davis stop, I walked 1.7 miles to my destination, stopping into Border's for a cup of what they try to pass off as mocha. It tasted more along the lines of hot chocolate and flat domestic beer mixed together. I idly visualized myself screaming loudly to scare the shit out of these docile bookworms, so engrossed in reading whatever trash they were reading. I pulled out a old crumbling copy of Elizabeth Browning's Sonnets from the Portuguese. I'm not a big fan of the book, but I do marvel at it time to time...it amazes me about the level of intensity of passion two person's in love shared in the olden days...their style of writing, the depth of their hearts and souls...not like these souless greedy beings nowadays who are so...dull.

The place I interviewed at was an Eyecare chain, they have need of a webdesigner. The girl Maryland lead me to a crummy basement office below the store, and I kept trying to guess at her ethnicity...she was possibly mixed like me....she seemed like the ultra serious no nonsense type, very cold and detached. She wasn't exactly hideous but something about her personality made her less attractive than she was. I guess I shouldn't complain too much, but something about her annoyed me. She brought in some balding gay guy who was wearing earrings to partake in the interview. He openly admitted to not knowing shit about webdesign, but kept on asking me retarded questions like how did I design this or that site...very annoying questions. The girl was beginning to gyrate on my nerves too, questioning every little stupid innane detail...chill out bitch I'm not that desperate for this fucken job! I thought in the back of my mind that they'd better be paying a sexy ass wage if they want my ass aboard! I think the fag kept delaying me with useless questions because he just enjoyed the view...prob never seen such an asian prince such as I before.

Dinner was delicious, and my girlfriend went all and ordered us dinner from Reza's. Their Persian style whitefish is a very delicious entree....I love that restaurant.

Lightbulbs went out again, and I had to go borrow some from my OCD dad....waiting while he was using a magnifying glass to check the wattage of each bulb in his bulb collection. Something about this amused me and annoyed me at the same time. Damn ocd peeps are quite entertaining, and aggrivating.

At least it's warm out, and tommrow's supposed to be a heat wave of 54. Maybe that's not high to you but where I'm from when it reaches past 50 I'm at the beach working on my tan.

Labels: Art of Life