The title of this post is a line taken from the poem Howl (and other poems) by Allen Ginsberg.
A lot of people would DIE to interpret the poem - but then again, you can't interpret poetry - that's why it's called THAT.
I, however, will not try and interpret Howl or any other poem for that matter, but I'll divide this post into sections: "Dreams; Drugs; Walking Nightmares; Alcohol - Cock and Endless balls."
Dreams
I had a bad dream last week - a SICK one.I was in a circle jerk. A LOT (like 10 or more) boys were in it. And what's more it was in PUBLIC (an internet shop) and what's WORSE, I KNOW someone PERSONALLY.
I told J, my friend AND voice of reason, (who also had a dream last week) about this dream. And flat out he said: You need to get out of where you are; and DO IT often. (Rough paraphrasing.)
Yes, I'm 25, I live in a third world country in the far east; alone; I am SINGLE; and TO TOP IT ALL OFF, I haven't DONE IT in a loooong while.
Yes, it's true. As ICKY as this sounds, IT IS THE TRUTH.
I dunno, maybe I get scared? Maybe I'm just playing safe OR maybe I'm JUST not ready for it - again.
I block or flap every thought and/or insinuation about IT with work - article this, article that.
I'm like Glinda - minus the shimmering blonde hair and BELTING voice that can do a B flat - inside a bubble. Distant from the world. And not letting ANYONE else in it.
Maybe I'm looking for love? Which is a UNICORN.
What about you, have YOU found your Unicorn?
Drugs
Naw, not the one where you need a torniquet AND a long-ass-gauge-needle.
What gets you going?
Everyday we work - we go to school - we do the things that WE SHOULD do in the world in order to survive the proverbial battle of the wild.
I dunno what keeps me going. When I was working behind a desk before; the boss asked us to bring a picture of SOMETHING that would motivate us to work harder.
Everyone brought a picture of their:
1. dream house
2. dream IPod (it was 2006)
3. dream car
4. a yacht
5. a helicopter
I however, young-er; dumb-er that I am now, brought a picture of a BOOK (A Dirty Job by Christoper Moore - HARDBOUND - it was expensive) and I didn't know better that time and maybe even now.
That was before, the DRIVE to get THIS or THAT book would make me work and do something just to get it, but that was before, NOW, I don't know - maybe just the WILL to live?
Awhile back this afternoon - after lunch - I had a TOOTH AND NAIL fight with my editor OVER THE DARN PHONE - a long distance one (from the state of California); all because ONE of the article that I wrote "didn't sound good."
I do take things seriously - should you know - and this is the JOB. And I really shouldn't just ignore it or hell, SLACK like the pig that I am.
But then again, when someone bites you - you bite back, right? I always make my articles "sound good" entertaining even and NOT sounding like an encyclopedia and/or a Bible thumper that would go door-to-door. I add a lil' sugar - spice and everything nice!
In the end, I won the TOOTH and NAIL fight. Kind of unscathed, but still THAT moment made me think and ponder even.
Professionalism is good - always - but when one pisses on your work after you've suffered hours upon hours of working on it; THAT's another story.
It's work. It's a dirty job.
And to quote a very good friend and mentor it pees the bells.
Waking Nightmares
There are just times in a day when you sit down and THINK of the days before - a waking nightmare, if you will.
Before all of THIS - the lappy top; the job which pees the bells - I HAD NOTHING.
When I was young-er and dumb-er and a student I relied or rather LEECHED on my mom. And I BELIEVED that whatever happens mom will be there to pick me up and brush those bruises on my knees.
Thus the reason I CHOSE to go to the university/college out of town and be away from home - because I know everything will be alright, mom's there.
Rather than getting a course or degree which would help me with life - and NOT to mention one that would surely get me a higher pay - like a nurse or a doctor or hell; one course than you can use in times of emergencies - like the upcoming Zombie Apocalypse for example.
I chose a course that I love - one where I can EAT books and talk about BOOKS. Bachelor in Secondary Education: Major in Literature; minor in linguistics.
Antoine de Saint-Exupéry - Balzac - Chekov - Dante - Dostoevsky - Faulkner - Flaubert - de Maupassant - Goethe - Kafka - Salinger - Shakespeare - Tolstoy - Williams - Zola. You name it; I ate them all way back in college.
I barely survived the university - NOT as being the one who gets bullied all the time, but by being drunk in class or high even (pot was a bestfriend - along with Kurt Kobain, John Lennon and NIN and yes, Anne Rice) I was 17.
Then my parents broke up DURING graduation (no one walked me down the aisle) - I got shattered by it.
I ran away from home - to the big baddest city and capital of the country (Manila) filled with crooks, illegal recruiters, hookers, pickpockets, swindlers and drug dealers.
I worked at contact centers - galore - which catered customers from other countries, mainly the United States and/or Europe.
I became a lot of things while in a contact center:
1. Telemarketer - annoying job and not to mention FOR the customer
"Hello my name is ________, from CARLSON; AVAYA; KODAK; WORLD HEALTH ORGANIZATION; TUPPERWARE; SPRINT; AT&T"
2. Customer service - annoying job too
3. Quality Assurance - listened to calls
4. Accent trainer
5. And then finally - BOSS (of Accent trainers)
And regardless if I had income and I was told one too many times to save - I didn't listen. Rather than saving, I SPLURGED all of it with online games. I was 21.
From Defense of the Ancients - World of Warcraft down to Zelda, you name it.
And yes, BOOKS - for someone who lives in a very small town with no bookstore (it's TRUE) the INSTANT you see a glossy hardbound book of (for example) "Laurell K. Hamilton's DANCE MACABRE - you grab it and pay it no matter what the cost.
Then the BOMB dropped like that one of Hiroshima and Pearl Harbor combined. The company went bankrupt and they had to CUT - I was part of it.
And then everything just went BLACK. I won't tell you about it anymore - it was just PLAIN BAD.
BUT, now - with a different perspective of things - I KNOW that I should probably be a bit wiser now; given that I've learned THE HARD WAY that the people aren't universalists, but rather individualists.
And to NEVER GO BACK to the darkplace ever - EVER - again.
Alcohol - Cock and Endless balls.
If there's one thing I learned, that is important, is to never take things literally.
And so should you.
NO, this section isn't about "Alcohol - Cock and Endless balls" LITERALLY, no.
It's happiness or at least that's what I THINK those three are. A lil' joy of sorts - minus the sexual innuendos.
If there's one thing a person could be proud of, it's when their work is appreciated or commended even.
I do too - especially with this blog - and it's wonderful to know, really, that some read THIS.
I get to know which countries have read me (who lives in Israel?) and yes, the browser AND thingamajig that people use or YOU - are using.
But then again, I can't help but be annoyed AND at the same time laugh because I'm just too jaded to argue.
Like messages and/blasts for example:
And you have no choice but to just SMILE and GRIN AND BORE IT - because you're nice and good and you don't want to break a nerve or have an aneurysm just because of a lil' annoyance.
But these lil' things give color to life - well, for me at least; the readers, the occasional nut that would drop by and give you random stuff.
Just like show-business - it won't work without "fans."
And with that, I bid you good night, dear reader - be safe; a storm, as they say, is on it's way.
Stay Warm! ☼
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