I guess it would explain my voyeuristic tendencies. Not in the disrobing nature or watching me do some sort of sexual act, but something that I would consider extremely personal. A moment to become someone else. Someone who does not have to pretend to know three steps ahead, never bleeds without laughing back at you, someone whose very skin is made of stone and hands of steel. To be that hero who rides into the sunset, who refuses the kiss with the maiden to uphold some ancient rite of nobility or simply put the cold, silent type that plays well as muscle. Sometimes it's good just being who I can not be. To confess not past sins, tribulations, nor humiliations, but to confess a simple humanity that would not be found in Hemingway, even in the end.
To be honest, not that I lie, but to be open and to not regard every thought with different potential of coming back to haunt me, that is what I mean. There are moments, places where I am completely unknown where I actually pick up different characteristics, different behaviors. Where I can blend enough in the room where I am not important and not known. It's harder to escape life in a physical manner and so my writing is my escape. It's where I can stop rallying for the cause and just be no one. Something that I do rarely with friends and more often with the company of strangers. I guess that would explain my secret spots whee I'm known as someone else, go by different names and even play a different role. We all become braver when we know that we can be someone else if only a moment. Nothing that I'm willing to relive in any way, but sometimes it good to flirt openly and stupidly with someone, not caring if I get their number. To become the joke rather than to make them. To sit in the gutter and have everyone completely ignore you or even go the extra effort to pity you. The moments that normal people can never afford out of some sort of shame.
Hmmm....always figured it like going to a theme park. No matter how much you try to cram into the moment you are always going to miss out on something. Some moments you are going to miss out simply due to your gender. Others due to your physical appearance, no matter how you try to blend in. Those are moment that I still attempt to reach for. Sure you'd never imagine me singing a German Drinking song in a beer hall, remembering the Fatherland, but hell you either get laughed out or people buy it, so why not? So knowing that much, isn't it worth just trying to get that you can from your E ticket?
Yeah, I showed a bit of age there.
And so, I'm here not reliving some moment where I don't understand or trying to piece the missing chunks from a memory and wonder why he/she/it did this/that/the other. Right now I'm looking past the fourth wall wondering who I'm mentally disrobing for. Staring into the darkness wondering who are the eyes staring into my little charade and wondering if there is any point. Numbers and stats tell me that I'm seen from different parts of the world, different times in the day, different programs or whatever and yet it can all be done by some chipmunk in Hoboken, even though I have no idea where Hoboken is and chances are I'll look it up to satisfy my bothersome mind. I'm wondering why you are reading this and what you are getting out of it. No matter what is written I only get stats, but nothing else. Perhaps it's the performer in me or the fact that I need some sort of validation from someone even if it's a weak clap and a sigh. I've gotten past this with time and see my random writings as my sad way of tossing a message in a bottle, a good chance that someone will read it, but no way of hearing anything back. Even if it's the simplest smiley face.
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See, easy. Maybe it's because I write from a place that means alot to me and leaves me shaking afterwards as I reread and wonder if there is any point to writing it beside my peace of mind. And yet, I have read early pieces that have left me laughing and even annoyed. I'm far from being the most eloquent or charismatic, but I do know what to let off my chest even if it's a pile of crap that I will only respond afterwards with a disparaging word. I'm my own worst critic simply because I'm able to remove the sting from others bows with my own shot. I know, stupid, but I'm still trying to get things making sense. No way I'm winning a Pulitzer or becoming renown, so with that stress off my shoulders why not just grunt out my thoughts so I won't pull my head off from frustration. I mean, are you going to remember me for some brilliant thing? Nah. But will it be worth reading and get some thing out of it, maybe. Then again, I may just be being voyeuristic for that chipmunk. You know, the one earlier? Only way getting rid of "stage fright". Thinking of that chipmunk.
I know, stupid.
But I can't help thinking that you're out there. That you are reading my words and that you have enough patience to read on in attempt to figure out what I'm getting at or if I'm ever getting to a point. I guess I just wanted to know that someone if out there looking in and is getting something from it I might even be inclined to reach back is there is a response or .....whatever. This is stupid. I'm just going to continue writing my bottle messages and keep tossing them into the ocean of nothingness. My form of a scapegoat that lets me go back and realize what the bloody hell is wrong with me and if there is any redeeming factor to me or am I just deluding myself without knowing. you can keep looking in and talking among yourselves, pointing every now and then with a laugh that I can not hear. No real names and masks on. Just shut up and get to it, monkey.
Fine. I tried, horribly but I'm going to count it an attempt cause that is an attempt in my book at the moment. Good night/morning/day or whatever. I'll let you go and I'm going finish up the remain of the bourbon I have in my desk. Best way to forget? Booze. Another reason why I have a bottle of Soju in there. Just in case I want to forget who I am and join you all.
Ok. Later.
The next post will return normally and filled with my confusing and random mutterings that keep me out of a straight jacket. Even the nice one I keep looking at. I could use new jacket.
Oh, I have a theory I want to play out. If people are trying to friend me from here just message me so. I'm trying to be.....social......I guess. Ok.....bye again. For real this time.
*pretends to leave and stares back at you*
*still watching you*
*watching and wondering if you think I'm stupid cause I know I think I'm stupid*
*No? Fine. Leaves in an embarrassed mess. Fuck it. People are overrated anyways*
*still looks out*
*fine. Leaves for real*
*forgot my keys. I keep forgetting things. sorry, bye for real this time*
*comes back and waves before leaving*
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