Tuesday, October 22, 2013

Never forget the weapons you have...

There's this girl, right? And she has this guy. Been with him a long time. Really smart dude. Not smart enough to know about me sleeping with his girl though. Been doing it a long time, too. She could be playing him. She could be playing me. All emotion aside, it doesn't matter. This girl's got a sister. She's into me too. Not too bad looking either. Do you see where I'm going with this?

I really love this girl. It's a really dicey situation, as you could surmise from that introduction. Does the girl leave her guy for me? What happens then? Where does this rabbit hole go?

Women have pulled the rug out from under me before. Read this blog. Go back as far as you want.

I get better at it every time.

Much like two opposing armies in total deadlock, we enter a 'war of attrition' where both the girl and I shoot each other down emotionally until one cannot take it any longer. I've weathered these little storms. I've endured heavy losses. I cannot be beat here. Well, I can...but only in one sense.

She has to man up and shut me down. Tell me she is done. That she loves her man and will not be leaving him. She has to swallow that bullet of pride. She has to go back on all the little sweet whispers she told me about planning to break up. Yes, she wins in that she determines the ceasefire. Technically, I get dealt the "broken heart" and have to march my troops back home.

But sometimes it's not about winning. Sometimes it's just about sending a message.

I can have her darling sister bedded and packet of text/photo materials sent to her boyfriend easily out the door within 12 hours of the receiving her 'dreaded' news. I can have her whole world shut down with literally a press of a "SEND" button on my phone. All my evidence is backed up. In fact, the text messages alone would be enough. I'd only throw in the sister for fun. Unnecessary but extremely entertaining collateral damage. Delicious.

You see...never forget the weapons you have. Life likes to put us in situations where we feel there is no way out. We imagine no options for ourselves. We think we just have to accept the mistreating. Take it like a bat in the teeth. "Incorrect" I say. I am fully equipped for this showdown. If somebody out there is willing to hurt me like this....lead me on...for almost a year...emotions drained as promises are swept away like they were never made....oh no, my friends. Do not fuck with someone who has nothing to lose.

Nero fiddled while Rome burned. Sounds like a plan to me.





Thursday, October 10, 2013

Sick with your own echo

I'm floating through another period of unemployment. The production industry likes to do this to those who have no established position or talents. Putting you through the ringer, seeing how bad you want to be there. It's such a great opportunity, you know? To stand there on a set, drinking coffee, standing striking distance from some movie star as he or she sleepwalks through their job too. Such a great fucking opportunity. Truly blessed all of us in the industry must be.

I don't want to keep spitting that "in the industry" phrase. It means less than nothing. The remedial jobs I've worked as someone's assistant or office gopher are no different that things some intern for an online advertising company would do. You just get yanked around. Do this. Do that. All with a smile on your face and a manufactured enthusiasm for your workplace. I'm sorry to tell you this but no occupation will make you genuinely feel that. The alarm clock sounds the same for everybody's job and you'd rather spend the day in bed watching cartoons. I promise you.

But this is America and so much must be achieved. You must wear the uniform of the 'go-getter' and make a name for yourself. You must earn your possessions and your female companionship. You must earn your weekends. You must earn the free time you get to invest in little hobbies. Then you must wave the flag of all that in someone else's face - because that's how people should act. A long stream of never-tiring accomplishing, punctuated by milestones and victories, undeterred by momentary defeat as that will only propel your further and faster into the next great challenge. This is the disgusting disease you have to live with as you take down your boss' breakfast order and skip off to Subway...so fucking grateful for these intial opportunuities to prove your mettle.

I'm dreading the next phone call. The next job. "Are you available? Can you start tomorrow?" They will ask. "Yes sir! Of course!" I will answer as another fate will get sealed. The machine will start to rumble as the gears stutter into motion. Back I will go. Into the grinder. Another couple months of being yanked in a hundred different directions. Everyday. For nothing. When I hear that phone ring that is all that I really hear. The death machine charging up. You have to earn that next couple weeks of unemployment, after all. So in you go.

I know this as I lay in bed at night, unable to sleep. I know it is coming. My mind wanders into other arenas like how the woman I want isn't there. Or how I need to fix a dozen things with my car. It tries to justify the great leap into that next hungry grinder. Maybe these things will make it worth it. Truth is, it probably won't. A couple more months without sex or any type of affection. Let's add a couple more. Meanwhile, back into the grinder you will go. Twelve hours minimum everyday at minimum wage, earning your keep. To come home to nothing. To reach out for nobody. To be awarded with the vague promise that you'll get to do it again. They'll starve you just enough so you will say 'yes' one more time and the nail can get driven in a little deeper.

All I am is an expense on somebody's budget line. First name, last name, middle initial. No mention of the broken heart. Broken spirit. Broken hope. I hate every moment leading up to that phone call as much as I will hate every moment that will follow it. But the key will go into the ignition. The engine will turn a few more times. I'll find myself somewhere. Being talked at. Going through the motions. Doing as I'm instructed. All with a feeling of perpetual loneliness. Disconnect. Abandonement. Swinging so hard with an axe made of air.

But that's working 'in the industry' and I should glow with excitement for such a chance.

Shit on the world.