I'm in a great place right now. For the first time in my life, I'm actually learning from failure. When I used to fail, the only knowledge I would gain was, "Well… that fuckin' sucked."
Not anymore. Lately, I've actually been analyzing why I keep ending up in the same place, in the same room, with the same disappointments. It's been a pretty strange experience. I've always just sort of reacted to anything that came at me and when the danger went away, I never thought about how to avoid it in the future.
In January of this year, I hit a fork in the road. Either I was going to continue to fuck up and live an unexamined life, or I was going to start accepting life's ups and downs, figure out what works for me, what doesn't, and begin living a happier life.
So I've been doing a little introspection, and now that I've quieted my mind, I'd like to share with you some of the knowledge that I've gained in the last six months. And hopefully with the information in this blog, maybe I can save some of you from unproductive hours, days, or possibly years in your one and only life.
Below is a list of Truths that I've obtained with my new approach to ridding myself of unhappiness.
WHORES ARE A WASTE OF TIME:
If there were a way to turn the food at McDonald's into it's human equivalent, it would arrive in the form of a whore: A gum snapping, short skirted, absentee father having, tramp, with absolutely no nutritional or spiritual value to speak of.
If you ever find yourself thinking, "You know, I don't believe I'm feeling empty or alone enough. I wish there were some way to drop even further into this unending void of nothingness." Go out and get yourself a whore. 'A Whore' is the only answer to the age-old question: "What would you get if a Dorito had a vagina?"
The feeling you have after hooking up with a whore is the same feeling you have after you eat at KFC. "Oh God, why did I just do that? I feel like shit. I have to get the fuck outta here."
But the problem with whores is that the do-gooders basically got rid of the brothel. I guess they thought if they removed the whorehouses, that the whores would somehow magically leave. But the whores didn't leave. Yet they didn't join the work force either. To be honest, I don't know where whores are during the day. They just sort of show up at night.
Think about it. How many times have you been out at a party and all of a sudden you see a group of girls starring daggers across the room? You then follow their gaze, as you do a slow, John McClane, one eyebrow up, look over your shoulder, and there she is. No bra, titties out, ass cheeks moving in a 4 against 3 polyrhythm, to the latest, "Let's Fuck" R&B/Rap hit song.
Who is she? Who did she come with? Did anyone invite her? Nobody fuckin' knows. She's just there and someone is about to waste an evening. Someone is about to have major reason to start sweating the next time they go to get a physical. Whores bring you closer to God.
"Lord, I swear to you, if my test comes back negative, I promise I will never, ever…."
You want to stay away, but you can't.
It's amazing. Whores are pussy's fast food. Everyone knows it's bad for you, but the second you smell it, you become a fuckin' zombie and you just walk right up to the register. "Yeah, give me the number 2 with an overbite. Oh and could you have the thong match the earrings and shoes? Thanks."
That's why they need to bring the Whorehouse back. In fact whores should have locations around town just like fast food chains. Then you could have them quarantined, just like the awful food at Roy Rogers. I've never eaten at a Roy Rogers, cause the only way to eat that shit is if you actually go into one of their locations. And why the fuck would you ever do that?
Using that logic, if you just had all the whores in one franchise, all you'd have to do is avoid that ONE franchise. It'd be easy. I'd just treat it like I treat Taco Bell. "FUCK THAT PLACE."
Unfortunately, the closest thing we have to realizing that dream is the Titty Bar. And it was in this lovely establishment that I learned another truth that I hope will save you thousands of hangovers, and plenty of funny money:
STRIPPERS DO NOT SMELL GOOD:
Strippers smell like the truckers they grind up against. Some don't even shower before they come to work. It's kind of this passive aggressive "fuck you" to the meathead customer.
I can't tell you how many hours of my life I wasted in Titty bars "learning" this lesson over and over and over again. Just holding on to the hopeful thought of: "Maybe this will be the one who won't be a jaded psycho and actually enjoys this horrific job…God Damn what the fuck is that smell…" as the smell of sweat, shame and body make up wafted over me.
The problem is, strippers have across the room beauty. From 20 feet away they're gorgeous. Unfortunately, up close they look like they sleep upside down in a cave. Every time I go to a titty bar, I end up feeling stupid and I always have this strange urge to rent The Lost Boys.
It's amazing how long I've had those feelings sitting on my mental desktop, yet I would still continued to go into those fucking places. Thinking it was going to be a fulfilling experience, only to leave feeling like a fool.
But as dumb as I've been in the past, I never got suckered into the VIP room. It's always struck me as hilarious that you would have a roped off, VIP section in a Titty bar. The only thing funnier than that concept is the people that actually go in there.
The people in the VIP are always wearing shinny shirts, smoking cigars, and throwing their money around. They look like they just came out of wardrobe to be extras in skit about a bunch of shit heads that go to the VIP in a strip club. But no! It's not a skit! They actually own those clothes. They actually own those pinky rings and yes, they still use mousse.
I would always look at them and think, "Don't they know that they are talking to whores? What are they doing? Why are they acting like they're pimps? The only pimp in this place is the guy who owns the club. And if there IS another pimp in here, he's not in the VIP. He's up at the bar, talking to the other whores, trying to get them to come work for him."
I always wanted to share this philosophy with the people in VIP. The only reason I didn't, is because they would all beat the shit out of me. And the last thing you want to do in a titty bar, is to have an open wound, while lying down on that carpet.
But despite the end of that equation, I still have the urge to fuckin' throw something at the people in VIP. The fuckin' people in there: One half is plotting the next big terrorist attack, while the other half tell stories that are punctuated with high fives. Which brings me to the next truth that I've learned:
ANY STORY THAT ENDS WITH A HIGH FIVE NEVER HAPPENED:
Have you ever had someone begin to tell you a story, and half way through you start to think, "Is this guy just making this shit up?" But you don't want to be a rude so you start to rationalize; "Well maybe he did double team some chick with Billy Idol. They are both kind of the same age…"
The "Tell Tale Heart" of a bullshit story is if Spalding Grey goes for the high five at the end of his story. The high five is the quintessential sign that not only are you listening to a lie,
…"SO THEN I TOLD MY BOSS TO GO FUCK HIMSELF!!!!"
…you are also watching someone try to pave over a lifetime's worth of regret.
There are many ways to deal with regret. Some people invent "I'm the shit/high five me" stories. Others sit quietly in a hotel room, rubbing their forehead whilst writing a blog about people who have regret. Still others become chronic whistlers. Or maybe they constantly hum a tune that doesn't exist.
Every job I ever had there was always someone walking around going, "Bah bah boo….de dah dah dee". And it wasn't every once in a while. It would be every time there was a moment of silence longer than 12 seconds.
"Dee dee die…Dah bah bah boo…!"
It's like: "What song IS that? And more importantly: Does it ever end? There's no melody. What the fuck!!!!"
It actually the soundtrack to someone trying to drown out the voice in his/her head that is saying things like, "Why are you still working here? I thought you wanted to travel. Why did you just sit there and do nothing? You should have got out of this relationship 17 years ago, Dah dah deeeee, dah dah dah doooooooo"
But when someone goes the "Made up story/high five" route, they are taking more of the Joseph Stalin approach. They rewrite history; start deleting people from their family photos and adding accomplishments to their resumes. (FYI: Special Forces credit is a major red flag.)
So the next time someone goes to give you the high five,
"….SO THEN I SAID FUCK IT, AND I BANGED HER SISTER TOO!!!!!"
Do not reciprocate. Just be very still and start reciting the dialogue from the Robin Williams/Matt Damon scene in Good Wil Hunting. "It's not your fault….It's not your fault…It's not your fault…"
And hopefully the storyteller will collapse and weep in your arms.
But then again, what the fuck do I know? Which brings me to the most important truth that I've learned:
MOST PEOPLE ARE CUNTS:
A lot of people don't listen to their inner voice, which is sad, because it's that voice that tells you what you want in life. Ignoring this voice causes misery and then before you know it, you've become a cunt.
I've been a cunt for years. For two decades, I basically had access to two emotions: Depression and Rage. I became a cunt because I grew up with cunts. Any time I would try and step out to do something different, all the other cunts would chime in and tell me to get back in formation.
The reason for this is because the last thing a cunt wants is for you to be happy and for you to make your dreams a reality. A cunt wants you to stay right there and spoon with all the other cunts. It's a form of dysfunctional intimacy.
I learned this recently when I decided to move to Los Angeles. I had been thinking for a while that I had basically done everything I could do in New York. So why not give it a shot and see what's at the next level? I thought it made sense.
But the second I started to tell others of my plan, I noticed that a lot of people tried to talk me out of it. They painted a bleak future for me out in La-La Land.
"Stage time is tough man." "There are a lot of joke thieves out there." "Everyone is a phony in LA."
It was really bothering me but then I got some great advice from a friend of mine, who isn't a cunt. He's actually more of a dick but I think he got that rep from other cunts. Cunts don't like people who ignore their shit. It steals their power. Thus, anyone who ignores a cunt, is immediately branded "A Dick."
Anyway, this Dick basically told me that anytime he was making a major move in his life, be it a career move, getting married, or whatever, he learned that people's reaction, had nothing to do with him. It was all about them.
It was a pretty amazing piece of information. Because once he told me that, I began to notice it everywhere I went. Not only in my own life but even in the conversations of random people during the day.
I'd hear stuff like:
Douche Bag #1:
"I'm putting an addition on my house."
Douche Bag #2:
"Really?….You sure you want to do that? A buddy of mine was telling me it's kind of a bad time to take out a home improvement loan. Plus ,what about your backyard? Don't you want to…blah,blah,blah…."
If you could plug headphones into that second guy's ears you would have heard:
"Fuck, how come I'm not doing that? His house is going to be worth more than mine. I shouldn't have blown all that money in A.C. I'm a loser! FUCK!"
So the next time you tell a cunt about a major move you're making, just sit back and enjoy their reaction. I like to do a lot of nodding and not say anything. The silence usually causes cunts to get nervous and in some weird way they actually start to hear all the negativity that they just spewed. At that point they usually try and cover their tracks and say something positive.
Just keep staring at them and you'll get to watch them unravel in front of you. It's has a nice Hannibal Lector quality to it, in that you get to see what their fears are in life.
"Tell me about the Lambs Clarice!"
So anyway, those are my truths: Stay away from whores, people that high five and cunts. I just reread that last sentence and realized that I probably haven't told you anything you didn't already know. So considering I'm a late bloomer with the whole, "Learning from past failures" thing: If you have any wisdom you could pass on to me, by all means leave it below.