Caterwauling

Le sigh.

“You see me in hindsight
Tangled up with you all night
Burning it down
Someday when you leave me
I bet these memories follow you around.”

— Taylor Swift, “Wildest Dreams”

YOU HAD ONE JOB, MORON. ONE! ONE JOB! ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I say go find these three things, with this one specification, and put them all together in one “thing.” And if you have time, another “thing.”

And I said that knowing the second “thing” would never happen because LAZY MOTHERFUCKER OMG.

And I only asked for the first project because I know they are sitting around twiddling and I worked all day yesterday and I thought let’s share the wealth and make sure we all earn our money.

And now I have to go fucking do it anyway because they can’t read a goddamned e-mail.

I don’t need Trump. I just need the ability to fire people. Without worrying about getting sued because their pwecious widdle feelings got hurt.

ONE JOB. ONE!!!!!!!!!!!

“Never sure when the truth won’t do
I’m pretty good on a lonely night
I move on the way a storm blows through
I never stay, but then again, I might.”

— Kenny Chesney, “Better as a Memory”

I was looking through someone’s recent photos on Faceypages. (I swear that app will be my demise. If drowning the neighbors in our lake doesn’t do me in first.)

And I got to thinking how different he looks now that all has been said and done. (And admittedly more was said than done.)

There was a time when his eyes were brighter than any supermoon. Somewhere between my arrival and my final departure, I would guess. Now, I can’t find that light anymore.

Of course, I look at my own photos (of which I post relatively few now), and I could say the same.

I didn’t really connect the light going out in my eyes with his lesser role in the play that is my life. But then I notice a correlation between my own distance and the brightness of his own light.

I’m sure I’m hallucinating. But I wasn’t seeking this particular information. I just wanted to see if he looks happy now.

And though that ship has long since sailed, I just don’t get why I don’t look all that happy, either.

Pictured: Getting sloppy at Sloppy Joe’s, Key West  

“One day you’re gonna find someone
And right away you’ll know it’s true
That all of your seeking’s done
It was just a part of the passing through.”

So I never slept last night. Thanks, Thundercunt. 

That’s not the confession. 

The confession is that I was just surfing Faceypages and saw another friend bragging about their betrothed online, like I was ranting about last night. 

But my missive wasn’t aimed at them. I wonder if they think it was. 

How do you apologize for something you didn’t actually do?

In any event, I am not going to worry about or even speak of the things I was thinking about the people I originally wrote about. 

After today, that is. 

I’m just very hurt that they are in a position to help me with something very important but refuse to. But when someone benefits THEM, they are all over that. 

It makes me sad and it makes me realize that some of the things from my old life that/whom I miss so much, are part of the past for a reason. 

And having the good memories be proven incorrect hurts almost as much as a so-called friend literally not giving a shit about a matter that’s life-or-death to me because they don’t want to get involved if it distracts them from living their happy life. 

But Poor Them if things aren’t going well … and my sympathy has run out. 

Do you ever see a friend gushing over his betrothed online and want to say omg you are so getting played and I can look at that person with my third eye and know what a gold-digger they are and to run not walk away before you can’t?!?!

I take no responsibility for this post after tonight. But man, I think you picked wrong. I can see in their eyes that they are going to fuck you over. 

And they aren’t as cute as you think, either. Sorry. There, I said it. 

I know they won’t see this. And I’m not trying to shit-stir. I just can’t bear to see another person think they found their happiness when even Stevie Wonder can see through the desperation of people who don’t want to be alone anymore. 

I only hope that if I decide to settle, my real friends will stand up and say something. Or maybe they will be like me right now and understand the need to “couple” at a time when it seems like the one thing otherwise-smart people just can’t seem to master. 

I happen to be friends with an amazing playwright. She wrote that today, in the broader context of a true story. 

I made me feel better about some “wasted love” that haunts me sometimes. 

Love is beautiful because it’s given, as she wrote. And that it is kept. 

That got me to thinking. Love gets received, too. And in the best-case scenario, returned. 

But all of the above criteria don’t have to be met to see the beauty of its existence in the first place. No matter how ephemeral. Because, regardless of how long it exists, isn’t everything?

Thank you, TWC.

Since there’s no reasoning with upstairs, I’ve taken to screaming “Yo, yo motherfucker” or “Shut up, bitch” or “Go to bed” through the vents. Now Thundercunt is blasting her shitty music after her ugly ass rattled the ceiling all night. 

I genuinely have never hated anyone in my life the way I hate that family. And I got a nice stack of real estate newspapers I’m about to drop like a mic on her doorstep. 

Everyone stop grabbing your guns like they’re you’re goddamned dick (or strap-on) because a crazy mofo shot productive members of society. Admit there’s a problem with the world instead of making it about you. Good people in my field died doing a job we are trained to do. Fuck your stupid gun. Fuck you everyone who prays this goes away, which it will too soon, and fuck the next nutjob who gets inspired by this bullshit and does it bigger and better next time. 

If Yo-Yo Ma’s little bastard children don’t quit rattling my ceiling, I will end then all. It’s quarter after midnight. I’m about to go rip someone’s weave out.