Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now

The Smiths

Haven't blogged in a while.  There's at least two reasons for that.   First of all, I'm a complete mess, and, secondly, I have a job.  I got a job working for a major home-improvement chain store.  I'm still facing major credit card debt.  I might have to file for bankruptcy if I can't get a loan to pay off these credit cards.  But this job is difficult to tolerate.  To do what I'm doing, full-time, is a bit of a nightmare, but, as I and others have mentioned before, life itself is pretty much a nightmare.  I really have to tough it out to make it through the day.  To me, work has become an endurance challenge.  It's driving me crazier than I already am.

Here's a new section on the Bald Vegan!  It's called "thoughts."  I hope you like it!

I"m sure that life sucks.  Sometimes, when I'm in the midst of a deep depression, I remind myself that I can commit suicide anytime I want to, and it cheers me up a little.

I don't' believe in heaven, but I believe in hell, and this it it.  This planet has a history of violence that is staggering in its scope.

I'm jealous of the dead.

After death, even soft, healthy skin will rot.

That's thoughts for this week.  I'll end with a poem for a poet.

Who am I?
How do others see me?
How do I see myself?
What do others think of me?
Is that really me in the mirror?
Do I exist?
Will anyone miss me when I'm gone?

Human

 
It occurred to me that I'm not good at being a human being.  I don't like doing many of the things that humans do: driving a car, putting on socks,  putting on shoes, putting on shirts, putting on pants, putting on underwear, taking those things off again, showering, flossing, brushing my teeth, making coffee, cooking, cleaning, dealing with shitty people, receiving bills, paying bills, seeing commercials, seeing ads, working at shitty jobs, applying for shitty jobs, doing laundry, and so on.  I'm not good at making decisions.  When you're a human, there are so many choices to make.  There are so many things to remember.  It's too complicated.
I'm much more of an animal.  I'm good at eating and lying around.  Of course I believe that humans are animals; we have so many things in common with them.  We just happen to be the worst, most destructive, animals to ever walk the Earth.  It's quite possible I'll soon be forced to live like an animal: outside.  Suicide is also an option.  Sometimes I think I'd like to leave this society, but it's hard to imagine life without toilet paper and ass washing.  I know I mentioned I don't like showers, and it's true, but they, like many things, are a necessary evil.
I want to make clear that even though I object to working at any of these places, because they serve meat, I applied for jobs there anyway, becasue I was trying to SURVIVE: McDonald's, Panera Bread, and DiBella's Subs.  I didn't hear back from any of them: no interest whatsoever.  Where's the hope?

Poor Glenny

The cover of American Loser

Poor Glenny only wants a dog and a house, but he can't afford either, because he doesn't have a job, which is something else he wants, but, no matter how many times he tries, no one will give him one.

My back is jacked.
My feet hurt.
My ears are ringing.
There's regular pain in my knees.
My eyesight's failing.
My brain wants to kill me.
It's only going to get worse.

Ever since I watched that documentary about Kurt Cobain, I've been listening to a lot of Nirvana.  I think part of the reason is that, despite what he's accomplished, I needn't be jealous of him.  He's dead.  We can't take it with us.  It's hard to be reminded, on a daily basis, that so many people are doing so well while I'm so miserable and contemplating suicide every day.  Cobain is also a reminder that suicide is an option: a real possibility.  By now, I know I'm not going to wake up happy; I never do.    

Kurt Cobain's Suicide Note

(I, not Cobain, am responsible for highlighting (bold) words.)
"To Boddah
Speaking from the tongue of an experienced simpleton who obviously would rather be an emasculated, infantile complain-ee. This note should be pretty easy to understand.
All the warnings from the punk rock 101 courses over the years, since my first introduction to the, shall we say, ethics involved with independence and the embracement of your community has proven to be very true. I haven't felt the excitement of listening to as well as creating music along with reading and writing for too many years now. I feel guity beyond words about these things.
For example when we're back stage and the lights go out and the manic roar of the crowds begins., it doesn't affect me the way in which it did for Freddie Mercury, who seemed to love, relish in the the love and adoration from the crowd which is something I totally admire and envy. The fact is, I can't fool you, any one of you. It simply isn't fair to you or me. The worst crime I can think of would be to rip people off by faking it and pretending as if I'm having 100% fun. Sometimes I feel as if I should have a punch-in time clock before I walk out on stage. I've tried everything within my power to appreciate it (and I do,God, believe me I do, but it's not enough). I appreciate the fact that I and we have affected and entertained a lot of people. It must be one of those narcissists who only appreciate things when they're gone. I'm too sensitive. I need to be slightly numb in order to regain the enthusiasms I once had as a child.
On our last 3 tours, I've had a much better appreciation for all the people I've known personally, and as fans of our music, but I still can't get over the frustration, the guilt and empathy I have for everyone. There's good in all of us and I think I simply love people too much, so much that it makes me feel too fucking sad. The sad little, sensitive, unappreciative, Pisces, Jesus man. Why don't you just enjoy it? I don't know!
I have a goddess of a wife who sweats ambition and empathy and a daughter who reminds me too much of what i used to be, full of love and joy, kissing every person she meets because everyone is good and will do her no harm. And that terrifies me to the point to where I can barely function. I can't stand the thought of Frances becoming the miserable, self-destructive, death rocker that I've become.
I have it good, very good, and I'm grateful, but since the age of seven, I've become hateful towards all humans in general. Only because it seems so easy for people to get along that have empathy. Only because I love and feel sorry for people too much I guess.
Thank you all from the pit of my burning, nauseous stomach for your letters and concern during the past years. I'm too much of an erratic, moody baby! I don't have the passion anymore, and so remember, it's better to burn out than to fade away.
Peace, love, empathy.
Kurt Cobain
Frances and Courtney, I'll be at your alter.
Please keep going Courtney, for Frances.
For her life, which will be so much happier without me.

I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU!"