Ok, get it? Great! Well, I think the status is very stark in comparison to my self-portrait, aim icon. And so, let me look, wow….as edgy as I think I already am, I think maybe, perhaps I’m “taking it to another level” or I’m being “just plain tasteless” or “damn, that motherfucker needs attention” but I really don’t think much of it. I know it will certainly offend people. I know there are a bunch of bible thumpers on my buddy list alone (and I know who the closet ones are…don’t be ashamed….you don’t need to blast P.O.D. in the privacy of your own headphones). But I think I’m going to do it just to make people feel uncomfortable and disrupt their day a little. But, wait, you mean to tell me that "Believe in me or you're going to hell" isn't razor sharp?
You know what I wished? I wished I could call my writing, art. That way I can get away with doing a lot of weird, random shit that I currently have to suppress. Like, it’d be fine if I were to go days without showering...or like when I did it’d always have to be in a bubble bath with a frozen Cornish game hen. Or maybe I could like, walk around the city with an upside down jar of mayonnaise on my head. See, like that’s pretty weird. But you see, if I was an artist, it’d at least be interesting or compelling. You know, I once read an article about an artist who had put out a coffee table book of his photography. Well, in the book was just pictures of him, in bed, with naked women that he met after putting out an ad in the newspaper. I wish I would’ve thought of that sweet deal. That way I wouldn’t have to worry about hurrying up and finding women before my condoms expire.
(Maybe self-deprecating humor will help me, also)
You know what’s kinda weird, but kinda goofy also? (predictable for me to say “besides…me”….however…unpredictable for me to still call it out)…people that collect matchbooks. Like, I think it’s cool, and fuck, I always think to myself, “it’d be cool if I collected matchbooks from cool clubs, luscious hotels, and nice restaurants. Yeah, maybe I should..” and you go through the motions……“but yeah, like it’s also cool because it’s free and you can’t just buy them...” and you further convince yourself that your knowledge of which bars have the coolest matches (wooden, strike on the back, funny quote, interesting packaging) will somehow put a significant dent on the world…you still don’t do it. And so one day, you go over to your friend’s house and then you see that, near the keys, there’s a little glass jar of different matches from exotic restaurants in exotic locales. How cool suddenly becomes how goofy. You think to yourself, “fuck…good thing I didn’t waste my time holding onto those matches…because that shit is CRAAAAZY!”
And somewhere between then and a few paces forward you soon think, “at least he/she had the balls to do it.”
That’s what I’m talking about.
-- Sonnyred
http://www.box.net/shared/m90i4xu91v
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