***MY FEELINGS***
I got to see Jason Mewes (Jay from the View Askewniverse)
perform a hilarious Q&A session the other night in Tacoma . Lots of sex jokes. Lots and lots of
sex jokes. So many sex jokes that I laughed like a James Bond villain because
of them (much to Jason’s delight). As much fun as I had that night and as
awesome as it was to meet Jason Mewes and take pictures with him, that’s not
what this journal is about (though yes, my brother and I had a great time that
night).
During the car ride home, my brother James asked me a very
profound question that I blew off as being asinine: “What goes through your
head when you have a certain experience?” He elaborated by saying that I
respond to even the most amazing things in life by saying, “It was fine” in a
monotone voice. Part of his comedic rant was that I could be at the bottom of
the Himalayas or having sex with a younger
version of Cameron Diaz (or doing both at the same time), and all I would have
to say is, “It was fine.” James then talked about the time he worked hard
cooking a salmon steak with the right amount of herbs, spices, and sauces and
all I said once I was done eating it was, “It was fine.”
There are many reasons why I don’t talk about my true
feelings. One reason could be that it’s a male thing and since I have a penis
and two testicles, I fall under that category. The other reason is that talking
about my feelings leaves me exposed to whoever I’m talking to. Sure, I could
just give James the proper critique for something as simple as a salmon steak,
but even that moment of positivity could open the door for him or other people
to ask about the darker parts of my emotions.
Talking about the darker side of my emotions isn’t easy for
me because, as a schizophrenic, I have to relive those moments again and feel
like shit afterwards. Living with my mom’s ex-boyfriend Art, getting bullied in
high school, and being lonely at Western
Washington University
For the sake of this journal, I will talk about an emotional
experience I had that was more than just “fine” or “whatever”. Consider this
your one and only invite into my mind. If you see me in real life and you want
to talk about it some more, forget it. Not happening. Even now, I have
butterflies in my tummy, and this is just writing about it.
In 2016, I went to see Slipknot in concert for the second
time in my life. One of my favorite songs that they played that evening was
“Killpop”. If you Google the lyrics, you’ll see that they contain themes of
psychotic love and sexual frustration (even though the song is about something
completely different).
I loved this song so much that I sang along with it in my
loudest, most passionate voice possible. In that moment, I could forget all
about being a sexual has-been and a 30-something virgin. In my senior year of
high school, I looked like a goddamn stud muffin with my leather jacket,
sunglasses, thin body, and badass haircut. I had women flirting with me from
all angles and even had cyber sex (yes, I know it’s just masturbating to a
computer screen, but it was still enjoyable, so shut up). And then I had
schizophrenia. The disease itself made me act crazy and the medication made me
gain over a hundred pounds. Goodbye sexy Garrison, hello Uncle Creepy.
It seems shallow-minded to have that be a source of pain for
me, especially since people are willing to give you the worldwide disaster
argument over and over again (“people in Africa
have it worse than you do, there are hurricanes everywhere, blah, blah, blah”).
I’ve had a taste of love and I want it again, but I’m also aware that this 300
lb. body isn’t fit for such things. Therefore, when I sang “Killpop” in my most
passionate voice, I could forget all of that and give a metaphorical middle
finger to anybody who doubts my likeability. Ironically, when the song was
over, a sexy lady in a dress and a cowgirl hat kissed the back of my hand in
approval. I never got that girl’s phone number or email address, but it was
probably for the best.
There you go, folks. That’s my emotional experience. Now I’m
locking the doors in my mind and you’re never getting back in. If you want to
know how I’m doing today, I’m doing just “fine”. Today was actually a good day
for me. The past four days have been exhausting because I was angry about
mopping up my dog Maggie’s shit and piss. Today I didn’t burst into a
hodgepodge of swear words and I was able to use that energy to write a short
story called “Witch Hunt”, read 30 pages of “Paper Towns”, and draw a picture
of Fatima Ruiz (a gangster from another short story called “How Could You?”).
Imagine that: fiery anger can be tiring as hell! We’ve got ears, say cheers!
***POISON TONGUE TALES 2: THE RIGHT TO REMAIN PSYCHOTIC***
As I just told you, Witch Hunt is in the books, so now it’s
time for another short story. This is another old one called “Lionize” and it
goes like this:
CHARACTERS:
1. Dargoth
Destroyer, Human Barbarian
2. Zeal
Cottonwood , Zombie Giant
3. Andrea
Lovell, CEO of Lionize Corporation
PROMPT CONFORMITY: To be announced.
SYNOPSIS: Andrea’s corporation specializes in deadly arena
combat as public entertainment. Dargoth and Zeal are in her latest pay-per-view
main event after both of them went undefeated for such a long time. All
combatants who work for Andrea are locked in an ironclad contract with promises
of a high payday and threats of a lawsuit if they’re in violation. Dargoth, who
desperately wants to get out of his contract, attempts to assassinate Miss
Lovell during his match with Zeal.
***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***
And now that we’re on the topic of Lionize, my next Dark
Fantasy Warrior will actually be a fantasy-themed fighter! Imagine that! He’s
Dargoth Destroyer and he’s, you guessed it, another beefy barbarian! He won’t
be a Gary-Stu, though. Maybe. I’m not sure yet.
***DOMESTIC DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***
REINA: What did you do
productively today?
ME: Stuff.
REINA: What kind of
stuff?
ME: Just stuff.
REINA: Garrison! That’s
not a real answer!
ME: (Whiny groan.)
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