2006-04-05 - 7:01 p.m.
Does the world seem to be becoming more and more of a pain in the neck to you? I suppose it might be my imagination, for if everything around you appears to be insane, it is probably proof that YOU are the insane one and the world is playing precisely to type. You know what I am talking about � in the valley of the blind, the one eyed man is king and all that.
But of late I feel as though I have been far more exasperated than really I have any right to feeling. I am so short tempered! It�s like I go through my entire day suffused with a distasteful miasma of annoyance � as though I have a constant tooth ache but can�t do anything about it. Everything I see or hear simply irritates me.
I was just talking about this to my grandmother in New York � rich grandma, not blind grandma � and explaining how the world itself is intrinsically a wonderful place, especially Santa Monica and especially today. The sun is shining so brightly, but the air has a cool bite, the result of three days rain previous. Yet, it is people who ruin everything. And almost every interaction possible today that has anything to do with a person has been enough to put me into a near-incandescent rage.
My grandmother sighed to me that she totally understands, particularly because she and my step-grandfather have both been feeling exceedingly depressed lately.
�It�s just that we are always so sick. And there�s nothing we can do about it! It�s because we�re old. We�re just so old -- and it�s all coming to an end. And it�s horrible!�
I was unable to offer much consolation. �I wish I could be more consoling,� I sighed. �But the thing is, there�s nothing to be done. The world is what it is. It�s too bad, but there�s no way of changing it. It�s like that scene in the movie JACOB�S LADDER, in which the guy tells the hero that you have to try to accept things, for then the demons who torment you turn into angels who help you.�
My grandmother sighed, under-condoled. But she sure understands the nature of rage and frustration, does my granny.
Rage: I am at the Novel and some old prune comes up to me and says �Oh! Is it the morning or is it the afternoon now?� and I want to slap her across the face. Or I am sitting down, reading this new book by David Leavitt about the gay mathmetician and computer genius Alan Turing, and I think to myself, �God damn that stupid plaguerising hack � what on EARTH does he have to say about Turing? If ever there was a book that was written only for a paycheck, this is it.�
Or maybe I am watching some TV news show, and I am listening to all these cluck heads yammering about that black Congresswoman who hit the security guard at the Capitol because he didn�t recognize her at the metal detector. For goodness sakes � who gives a rat�s ass?
What a stupid story this is! You listen to the talk show hosts yakking about how of course she should have been stopped at the front gate because she had nappy hair and looked like a crack head. Or perhaps some off them say that it is racist of the security guard not to treat a nappy headed Congresswoman like the Elite Diva that she obviously is. I don�t know and I don�t care. Either angle of discussion is as inane to me as stories about that stupid bimbo who was tossed off the side of the cliff in Barbados or wherever that was.
And then, you are waiting on line on the grocery store and you see that there�s this stupid-looking woman on the cover of every magazine, her hair bleach blonde and floppy, her teeth astonishingly white -- and every magazine has a headline that trumpets �Jessica�s New Baby!� or �A New Baby For Jessica!� Who is this stupid Jessica woman? Why should we care whether she has a baby? Now, if she ATE her baby, well, that would be interesting. But otherwise, I totally don�t get it.
Yet, this Jessica woman must be someone important, otherwise she wouldn�t be on the cover of every single magazine � and every single magazine wouldn�t have her on the cover if people weren�t buying it to see her. So I just pull my hair at the stupidity of everyone who is interested in such vacuity instead of what�s important.
And then there are blogs. Really, complaining about other peoples� blogs is itself something that tends to irritate me � but I can�t help it. I mean, who are all these people, these housewives who write blogs about homeschooling their soon-to-be-psychotically narcisstic children? Have you read any of these blogs? They make me laugh.
�My son is so smart!� the stupid fat chowder headed housewives write. �We�re now reading MOBY DICK and little Percy is no older than three years old!� Let�s not talk about how these horrid parents have NO right or background to be allowed to teach a child full time. Most of the parents are functional illiterates or 10th grade drop outs, and they only want to be teaching their child the Holiness of Jebbus without interference from the state. They want their little brat to live only for them � to not have any friends or to be influenced by any alternative point of view. Personally, I think that homeschooling is a form of child abuse. I mean, what if you hate your parents?
And as far as other blogs � how about these stupid gay boys who post blogs full of the exact same nudie photos you see in every other blog? The gay boys who are cute and 22, so they think that folks are linking to their blogs because they are INTERESTING. Fuck you! You are not interesting at all! You are BORING. Oh I know what you think � you think that you are providing a �fascinating portal into the life of a typical 22 year old gay man.� As if such a thing is itself remotely compelling. As if the life of a typical 22 year old man has even a moment�s interest or self reflection to inspire or provoke!
Dear 22 year old blogger: In five years, you�re going to be trying to write a screenplay. In ten years, you might be working as a baby executive at a production company. And in 15 years, you shall be working at a bank, with a pot belly, and your main form of amusement will be watching prime time TV in the evenings. Don�t even TRY to tell me that I am wrong.
I think part of my rage at 22 year olds is that I find myself decidedly annoyed with my little stalker, who happens to be of that age. 22 year olds really are worthless for any purpose except for sex, I am afraid, and that�s the truth. My little stalker is, as you know, this young fellow who latched onto me on line when he was 19 and whom I have never been able to shake loose. His devotion to me is mysterious and inexplicable.
I can�t figure out whether I like the little fellow or loathe him, and that�s the god�s honest truth. He�s an obnoxious little oik, that�s for sure -- all arrogant and annoying far beyond the right that his limited IQ and weak literary abilities entitle him to be. He has the gall to think he knows how every part of the world works when he has never had even a part time job and has lived with his parents his entire life. And he is judgemental and critical in the idiotic way of a young person who has never had any aspect of his own life challenged.
The main feature of our relationship seems to consist of me insulting him, and him thinking that I am just poking gentle humor at him. But it just goes on and on. I rather wish I could convince him to leave me alone because he is frankly rather stupid � but I just can�t bring myself to cut him off. After all, he is kindly disposed to me, and there are few enough people like that these days. I honestly can�t figure out why that is.
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