Thursday, September 12, 2013

Mourning Memories, Allegory of Atrocity, The Pink Passenger

You will not be missed, but never forgotten
Enjoying my morning today which I seldom have the opportunity to do. Usually I am about halfway through my shift by now. Wow, what a fucking loser huh? Anywho, I am feeling lighter and more regenerated lately. I have begun working out again and have cut back on soda and other shitty shit. I also removed a lesion I have had for a long time now. I had a giant fucking mole on the top of my head removed. The procedure itself was pretty unremarkable, they numbed me, took a razor blade to cut it off then cauterized the wound. Which it's pretty gnarly to smell your own flesh burning. Pretty metal. Fucking brutal actually. But like anything, when you are at the end, you think about the beginning. I remember the day that I even noticed that mole for the first time. I was 19 and I went to the mall with my first real girlfriend Audrey. She went into a shoe store while I sat on a bench outside. As I sat pontificating and flatulating, I began exploring through my scalp like any bored sailor would do. Who knows, perhaps there would be some dry skin or maybe some food I had misplaced earlier in the day. But on that day, I stumbled upon something new and exciting. My instinct first told me that it was my sebaceous glands causing a blockage of the bacteria known as Propionibacterium acnes more commonly known as a pimple . I would occasionally find those on my head so I began the struggle to remove the contents. I battled long and hard and to no avail. I had decided to give up and try again later and then Audrey came out of the store. "What happened!?" she inquired. Apparently I was bleeding down the side of my face and neck and hadn't realized. So basically to any passerby I was some guy who had probably just been beaten up. Which upon review, fuck those people! Here I was, bleeding profusely and no one had the decency to see if I was okay? Wow, what shitasses.

Me roadtrippin' with some pals
back in the good ole days.
Being taken back to the magical age of 19 takes me even further back, to the days when the strapping Zach you all know and love today was a little less strapping and a little more chaffing. I was what most people would consider an atrocity. I basically looked like Freakshow from Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle except I was fatter and had braces. But when I look back at these times, I miss the simplicity and innocence I knew then. I think most people do, but I would literally play World of Warcraft and bass guitar simultaneously for 8 to 10 hours daily and that was on school days. Wake up at 6 a.m., go to school, get home by 3 p.m., play until 10 or 11 at night. Repeat. I can tell you one thing, I was a far more disciplined musician during that time then I am now. 16 year old Zach would kick 24 year old Zach into the dust. And my naiveté was a blessing and a curse as it always will be. I had zero concept of what "The World Of Sex" was like. I would just day dream that one day I would be good enough at bass that perhaps someone would want to hold my hand and we could dance and sing with gumdrop smiles. But I received very little attention until my body image had made a 180. Which is an unfortunate but necessary lesson I had to learn. No matter how much trust you have upon others, or how much you romanticize the actions of your fellow mammals, at the end of the day we're all just beasts. At times we can be noble beasts, but our shallow thinking will always be our tether holding us from nirvana. And pushing us towards buying the records of the angst riddled euphoria of the hit 90's band Nirvana. What ever happened to that guy? Oh...right...

Ain't that some shit.

My internal being. Actually he looks
a lot like Diglett. Maybe my mole was
a piece of my soul. My soul mole.
In a lot of ways, I feel like that boy is still raging inside of me. My perceptions of people instinctively are usually good, because at the core of me I'd still like to believe most people are honest, loyal individuals. But years of trials and disappointment has shed the light of wisdom upon my fairy tale. But I do believe most people enjoy the company of what lies at my core, and I suppose that is a good thing. Perhaps they ignore the bitter, hateful cloak I have placed upon myself and try to see through to the gooey gummy-bear guy inside.

On the subject of innocence, yesterday was of course the anniversary of an unfortunate event that will be talked about for decades to come I am sure. But I looked back at that year and realized that some of my favorite records I listened to when I was younger (and even now) came out that very same year. And I believe the most unfortunate thing that happened that year was we all lost our innocence. No one is innocent. The lighthearted spirit we all possess took a deep cut that year, and things will never quite be the same. And I can only imagine what the next few generations have in store for us. All I can say is that, God Hates Us All, and we must keep our eyes open for those sparks of humanity that keep us getting out of bed everyday. We only have each other.

Been in a huge Maynard mood.

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