I Hate It Here

I love the City in the rain. Soft, on light wind, the sort of spring breeze that ruffles your hair like a playful sister. If you have hair. People on the streets stop, now, to open their mouths, drink it down, cold and clean and fresh.  Like some bastard God was pissing acid on us.

Not that I'd blame him.

I watch it running over girls' chins, making their skin glisten like pure and eleganty worked crystal... down on the street made new again by the water... and children lead wonderfully unbelieving old women by the hand into the rain...


-Spider Jerusalem


Spring is well upon us, and with it, the torrential tides of heavenly liquid pouring from the skies.  Clouds blotting out the sun, floating through gray skies like warships on a colorless sea.  Hanging above us, resembling loosely formed gorilla turds.  Oh what joy this season brings.


Can you blame me for being pessimistic?


As a smoker, I look forward to this time of year.  Finally the weather brings warmth enough to stand outside and puff the carcinogens deep into my lungs, and when I am finished my balls haven't shriveled to the size of grapes.  But have you ever tried to keep a cigarette lit in a spring thunderstorm?  It's ungodly.  It's like trying to balance a fork on the top of a glass.  It can be done, but it's a goddamn endurance trial.


And so, i return indoors to the warmth and comfort of my dark damp apartment building.  I plug in my laptop, and I complain about the way things are.  I tell you I hate it here, and what's more I hate all of you.  I hate your inability to change the way things are to the way things should be.  I hate your inability to dream.  I hate your lack of passion for anything.  I hate that every time I try to see the world through rainbow glasses, you let me down.  I hate your constant, unending stream of ignorance and bullshit that clouds your judgement and reduces society's potential.  I hate you all, and you love me for it.


God bless me.


But I don't always hate you.  Sometimes I need you.  To inflate my ego and provide me with the unending stream of attention needed to keep it growing.  You are my drug of choice.  You are my digital crack, and this blog is my broken light bulb.  But the addict always hates the drug.


So my freaky darlings, what we have is a love hate relationship.  I hate you, but I need you to feed my addiction. I'm sure there's a happy medium in there somewhere.  Perhaps you can send me money to earn my favor or something.


Tonight is short, and I apologize for that.  Spent the evening locked out of my car, so this is all you get.  Thank me for it.  In keeping with the new tradition, here's a worthy image I found.


As always, love, peace, and may the force be with you.


I remain,


-G