Wednesday, November 24, 2004

Somewhere Drugs Don't Go

This morning fizzled and crackled in its beginning with the pulse
and throttle of my busted ass alarm clock, speaking the only truth into
my life and that is the reality of slagging my tired ass out of a warm
fetus of a bed to do something I really don't want to do but nonetheless,
HAVE TO do. Yesterday in an online gaming session, I was playing pretty
early (around 5:45 am) because I couldn't sleep and had one of those
drastic death-defying, heart-skips-beats sleeps with alot of evil dreams and
falling asleep only to find myself back in the same horrid dream. I usually sign
in (especially in Enigma 5) as an anonymous user because those fucking
computer half-men that live out there in a world of 1's, zeroes and hypertext
would probably just lunge from their piles of filth to snatch my email address
and fill it with child porn, spam and worm virus attachments. Fuckers.

Anyways, though I'm running late for work at this current juncture, an
interesting thing happened with one of the Enigma 5 gamers. He sent an
instant message for all to see that was really kinda profound and gritty.
Usually, these instant messages are nothing more than cyber-nerd trash
talk which amounts to little less than profanity, XXX sites and cheat codes.
But at one point, this particular unidentified gamer, posted a message which
really commanded my attention. He (or she, I should say) wrote: 'Does anyone
out there really give a shit about me?' Now obviously, at first, I grabbed the
sludge-boat mentality of laughing and thinking 'what a fuckin loser' as his
overall score was slowly slipping below mine by the second. But then, and for
a split bleeding instant, I looked up from the computer at one of the grayest
skies I have ever seen and thought about how morbid and how real of a
truth was lying there in that instant message. Now, mind you, it was quickly
responded to by other gamers with many colourful phrases, encouraging the
deep-thinking gamer to engage in intercourse with his mother and horses and
the like, etc, etc, but for some weird reason...I couldn't keep playing after
that happened. My focus was shot and something inside the abyss that is me,
None, was rattled. So, in noticing the lateness of things, I signed off without
notice, screwing over my probably 14-year old teammates, and went to work.

'I GO TO WORK' -Kool Moe Dee.

On the way to work, my usually unnoticed passage over the Welland Canal was
bitterly cold for some reason and for a second, I caught a glimpse of those rushing
currents in the cold, cold late November waters and thought 'What if I was that
guy online this morning and decided for whatever reason, to pack it in, and hit
the bricks, and send my body over the bridge into the waters because its just too
fuckin hard most of the time' and it made me start to cry. Now this was not a bitter
weeping like that of a mother losing a son to a war, but rather an internal crying
which led to the trickling of a lonely tear to the edge of my glasses. And I guess it
just hit me really hard for some dumbass reason, thinking about people like Vance
and Ember who really drive me fucking nuts and who I think about smashing
with a TV tray most of the time, that if either of them were to get hit by a bus or
stabbed in a post-bar drunken stupor in downtown Niagara, where the street dirt
lurk and seek victims, who would be there at their funerals?

Right now, I'm on the phone at work, and I can't help noticing how hard I try to
categorize people and place them into neat little boxes so I can go about my safe,
little ways in peace. And yet, here I am, constantly complaining about shit like
how sucky my job is and how much I hate everything and the world around me
without realizing that though I push and push and PUSH really hard to keep
everyone the hell away from me...it tears me up inside because I really do want...
something. I don't know. My mind isn't really working and my hidey-tidey
supervisor is bounding over here, looking cheery and ready to give me a
dickslapping evaluation that will ultimately mean nothing in the grand scheme
of it all. Hopefully I'll write more soon, but then, who will care.

I am None. I am No one. I float through and make do.
I see the terrain but mostly in rain.
I am the nothing beside you, the no one far away.
I am the forgotten child. I am a waste of space.
I am the garbage piled. I am a voice with no face.






4 Comments:

At November 25, 2004 at 10:56 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

the trash talking during games is entertaining but every once I see one of those kids (and I'm assuming they're kids) take a comment to heart and get all pissed off and started shooting the crap out of everything in the game or just whining in general but you can tell that something got to him and I know everyone's bashing each other and swearing and crap in those things but every once and while a fragment of bullsheisser bullet works through the digital dark ages armour and hits home for these kids.... even myself the one time I get emotionally involved is when some dick accuses me of hacking or something then gets me kicked off the server, I actually take it personally and get MAD enough to try to get back in and mess things up, it's a big reaction to what was a few thoughtless keystrokes by some ass a country away.
The point is no matter how disconnected we think ourselves by distance and digital impersonality and how protected we think we are by false guises, firewalls and fake frag grenades all in fairy tale landscapes, we can't trick ourselves into thinking we aren't all human beings for long. Sooner or later that kid will reach out or lash out when the pain fibers are felt online. Just like sooner or later play fighting with a bud gets too serious and the smile flashes gone and the dark look sets in for a second, just for a second, until you pound him a serious one or you let it go, stop the rastling and move on, a little ruffled mind you but moving on. (all us guys have had that happen in a wrestle match)
That relfective kid in that online game is a good thing. He pulls it all down to earth. If you can enjoy the game after that comment this morning knowing it's a game with real people, things are looking healthy for you.
Stay in next time, talk to him; shatter the looking glass and frolick amongst the shards. It's a delicate dance to avoid cutting your feet but the beauty of the intricate steps needed and the light reflected every which way makes it a sight indeed, worth the occasional slice, the occasional drop of real red blood.

charn

 
At November 29, 2004 at 3:19 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

FIRST INTERLUDE TO CHRONICLES OF NONE:
(sung to the tune of Johnny Cash’s ‘Boy Named Sue’)

So our hero set off with Jesus in tow
And headed to the last place he ever wanted to go
With vance, ember and the lady saying ooh la la.

But he pushed on ahead with dignity and class
Not minded the fear of them firin’ his ass
‘Cus in the end it’d be worth it
for the cash he would get that day.

The chronicles, (pause)
oh the chronicles. (pause)
I’m talking ‘bout them chronicles.
Chronicles, (pause)
Oh chronicles, (pause)
talking ‘bout those chronicles of none.

 
At November 30, 2004 at 11:16 AM, Blogger Jon said...

Sounds like None is ready to get a name. Our little guy is growing up. I like the way you write matty. Keep it up, it's almost Copelandesque. Miss you dogs.

 
At December 7, 2004 at 7:14 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

do you feel like a chain-store
practically flored
one of many zeros
kicked around bored
your ears are full, but you're empty
holding out your heart
to people who never really
care how you are

so give me coffee and TV
peacefully
I've seen so much, I'm going blind
and I'm brain-dead virtually

(blur-ed)

 

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