Taking My Shit Entirely Too Seriously Tonight

Taking My Shit Entirely Too Seriously Tonight

I took Katie back to her Mommy tonight.

I wanted to write at length about this week, but I'm not feeling it. It all went more or less as planned, Katie had a great time, and I really have nothing to complain about. But mostly it underscored how little time we have together normally, and added to a general feeling of being alone that I've felt hit me over and over again all week.

Saw Amanda today, which didn't help. I don't really know what to think about her, where she's coming from. One minute I think she's really interested in me, the next I think she's blowing me off, and I'm starting to think it's all in my fucking head anyway. But at least I heard HER voice and not our fool president's like in the dream earlier this week. And as best as I can tell, she doesn't have a dick. At this point in my spiritual evolution, I'm not even sure I give a fuck.

Rum and lemon juice are my friends this evening.

Gig tomorrow night. New songs to learn. The CD full of new material is mostly semi-satisfying, though a few things make my nuthairs stand on end. (I Hate Myself For Loving You? How fucking cock-rock can you get? We've Got Tonight? As if we can't find a decent piano-based ballad that ISN'T a worthless overwrought sack of pseudo-sincere horseshit?)

I've nearly given up on much more than hacking away in a whore-like bar band existence for the rest of my life, my week broken up with 7-year old students who never practice. It's not so bad. It beats the fuck out of making 8 bucks an hour in a goddamn warehouse. It's probably the best I'll ever fucking do in this degenerate backwards shithole called the Midwest. But it's a long way removed from anything resembling a true challenge. So long as this empty-headed kindergarten culture gets its entertainment information from television and swine like Clear Channel, assholes like me might as well get used to settling for thirty-seventh best. It ain't getting any better, and I'm tired of wasting my energy worrying about it when nobody else gives two fucks. If you take the time to stand up and say "This is fucking stupid", the only response you'll get is "Yes, we know! Isn't it GREAT?"

I'm going to go listen to some '73-'74-era King Crimson bootlegs and drink some more. Good night, you fuckers.

Love,
Dougie