Friday, February 03, 2006

I need to find some truth. And I think the only way to find it is to type on this keyboard, just stare at the keys, watch as my fingers wander back and forth, chopped up nails and marked up hands, signs of a weathered life, not too beaten down, but there’s people that have it easier, but that doesn’t matter, that’s getting away from the truth, don’t look at the words either, if the hands bother you, look at the wall, out the window, into the bay, out into the sea that’s not there but is there. There are so many whores and automotans out there just looking to bastardize anything that may be left with even a hint of honor, and here I sit selling shit to a quite suspecting non public, listening to rockers from parts unknown scream and cry about it, the only symbol of my own involvement.

I was gonna let it go at that, but I can’t. what more is there to say. What prompted this? This report from “ET” on the divorce of heather locklear & richie sambora, two people I couldn’t give a damn about and it’s representative of my own morbid car crash curiosity that I even clicked the link, a little ditty about how, yes, they’re splitting up, blah blah, but the last words, that little last refrain, is what set off the markers of rage: “For more on the split, don't miss tonight's ET!” goddammit you little bitches, if that isn’t enough, now I, or we, or them, have to go home turn on our idiot boxes and listen to you analyze and poke and probe this painful situation for those involved, figure out just what happened, when probably exactly what happened is that these people just could not make it work anymore, despite protestations and publicists, and now we have to furrow our noses into their affairs, but those are the costs of fame, and blah blah blah fucking blah.

I don’t know who to be irritated with. But these are human beings dammitt, despite their plastic skin and emaciated souls. They bleed, they cry, they know, they feel, and you may not be able to see the expression on their skin, but look into the eyes, they haven’t perfected a surgery yet that can give you a permanent glazed happy expression, look into those dead eyes, and leave them alone.