Hoc Est Qui Sumus (discoflamingo) wrote,
Hoc Est Qui Sumus

A Rehearsal for Aging Gracelessly

"If I hear that damn song when I step through the door, I'm going to kill you."

"If I hear so much as the first bar, you'll be dead before you hit the floor.

"If you sing even four notes, the final note will be muffled by your own blood."

Okay - I like that one.

I am quick to point out that the date of my birthday has exactly two major signifiers in Western society-

1. It is the anniversary of the firebombing of Dresden by Allied forces in 1944, the most destructive bombing in the history of the world (and the basis for much of Slaughterhouse-5). (As a sidenote - I have looked into it, and Hiroshima and Nagasaki barely come close for the destructive level of the assault - per bomb, that's a different issue, and for psychological effect, that's debatable.)
2. More people buy condoms on February 13th than any other day of the year.

In other news, my birthday (for sheer Julian frivolity) is shite. It's fuck-all about being born the day before Valen-fucking-tine's Day - you get to be perennially reminded of the encroaching spectre of Imminent Death™ amid people getting ready for the largest would-be fuck-fest in the Western world. Add thinking yourself unattractive and the unavoidable social niche of being single on top of all that (and a weak stomach for "self-medication" at present) and you'd be preparing how to shut people fucking up right well too, damnit.

I look in the mirror every day, but always at an angle. The hair's getting longer, so the bit on the right always foofs out more than I'd like. Since I came back to Wisconsin (but I'm coming home tomorrow, mind you), the mirrors are bigger, and clean. So I've had the first real chance to look myself in the eyes in a few months, and it isn't pretty. Just reminding myself of everything I've become, everything I have failed at doing, everything I've failed at failing at because I'm still procrastinating. My life is a fear-pit. I'm afraid of the fuckign capstone, the fucking trial, and the fucking economy. I'm afraid for my brothers who are still in school, and my mother who barely keeps her head above water. I'm afraid that my father will be dead in a year or two. I'm afraid for the friends still in school, and the friends outside school (citizens, if you will). I'm afraid that I'm in this for the long haul - or that I'm not.

I'm not there for people - and I don't seek other people out enough. I've done some things I'm not proud of, and I have a burning desire to be forgiven by those I've wronged.

It's hard - and people right now, well, they have problems with me. Probably you - and you won't tell me. Fair enough, I suppose. You never find out who has problem with you (whether it's your smell, your facial hair, your laugh, your speech patterns, anything). They feel it unnecessary or uncouth to tell you, so you only find out roundabout. That's something I intend to change, at least in my personal life. The telling, anyway.

I was listening to this song on a CD I made, and I was rounding a corner on I-94 during the blizzard on Sunday , and I just started crying. If you know me, you know I don't cry easily. You probably don't know that I don't cry. Some people cry at the drop of a hat. I can't - I stopped crying after the faux break-up with Crystal, in 1996. I've cried maybe a dozen times since then. Four of those are for the accident.

I think most of it (the crying, anyway) is based on talking to Masui about idealism, and doing the right thing, and how futile all of it is sometimes. So, here it is - I gave it to Gunn to listen to once (which didn't help her at all), because sometimes it's hard to try to do the right thing all the time. Sometimes I need to hit bottom before my spirits can lift at all.

"Superman's Song"
(lyrics and music by Crash Test Dummies)

Wasn't a ladies' man
He'd just come along and scoop 'em up
under his arm like that
quick as a cat, in the jungle

Clark Kent,
Now there was a real gent
He would not be caught sitting around
in no jungle scape
dumb as an ape, doing nothin'

Superman never made any money
Saving the world from Solomon Grundy-
and sometimes I despair the world will never see another man like him

Hey Bob -
Supe had a straight job
Even though he could've smashed through any bank in the United States
He had the strength, but he would not

Folks said
His family were all dead
Planet crumbled but
Superman he forced himself to carry on
forget Krypton
and keep going

Superman never made any money
Saving the world from Solomon Grundy -
and sometimes I despair the world will never see another man like him

Tarzan was king of the jungle
and lord over all the apes
but he could hardly string together four words -
"I tarzan you Jane"

When Supe was stoppin' crimes
I'll bet that he was tempted to just quit and turn his back on Man,
Join tarzan in the forest

But he
Stayed in the city
and kept on changing clothes in dirty old phone booths
'til his work was through
and nothing to do
but go on home

Superman never made any money
Saving the world from Solomon Grundy
And sometimes I despair the world will never see another man like him

This entry ended up being really, really long - which I think is only fair warning. And everybody who posts "Happy Birthday!" and nothing more will be summarily executed fucking killed harshly ostracized, as in, "Made into an ostrich . . ."

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