Survivor: The Inside Of Dougie's Ass

Survivor: The Inside Of Dougie's Ass

Katie and I had a very nice time together tonight. Nothing huge, just nice. Though I did get to see her dance practice, and that was a hoot. I used to go see her dance all the time. I hope I can do it more often again. There's nothing like seven 5 year old girls who haven't played outside in four days because of weather, running around like loons and making their teacher nuts trying to keep them in line.

Oh, and Katie's a ninja now. Just thought I'd share that.

Practice wih the Cincy band tomorrow, which I'm really not into at all, and I'm very cynical about our chances at really being in shape anytime soon. I hope I'm proven wrong, but even though we have much potential, I'm left with a feeling that our goals aren't the same, and my goal is quite simple - get this shit together and get out there as soon as fucking possible. It's nice that the other guys aren't in this for the money, but I AM, And frankly, if you're playing some of the shit we have to play in these bars, you BETTER be in it for the money, because if you think Wonderful Tonight is Art, you're fucking scaring me.

Practice with the band up north Saturday. This I'm more excited about, but talking to the singer tonight, I'm still balls-deep in this sense of loss and frustration, because nothing is for sure right now. Nothing. I don't want to go into the problems (and potential problems) with P right yet, but it's serious, and no decision has been made, after I was led to believe that it was DEFINITELY made last weekend. My own position in the band has gone back and forth a lot as well, and as much as we all hope I can stay as long as possible, my sense last week of it continuing farther than the end of the year was probably desparate optimism on my part.

I hate where I'm at financially now - in worse shape than I ever was in Indianapolis, I can't even afford a much needed oil change until next week - I hate the way I feel on Monday through Friday mornings dealing with the absolute shit-filled meaningless of a lifestyle that seemingly everyone else has long ago learned to not question, and I hate the frustration I feel at MYSELF.

To write all this down would be even more of a masturbatory exercise in self-importance than I usually inflict on you fine readers. Suffice to say that I do NOT accept myself as I am right now. That's the trend these days, we all are taught that we should have no regrets about ourselves and that we are really wonderful people who just need to accept ourselves and love ourselves.

That's a load of SHIT, and it's why this culture has deteriorated so badly. We don't need to constantly beat ourselves senseless over our every failing (something I've been very guitly of) but we are NOT wonderful. We are PUSSIES. I am too, and I'm flailing away every day at that, trying to find a way of bettering myself. The de-pussification process is a bitch, but I HAVE to do it. I'm not a good person. I'm a selfish fuck with serious mental hurdles to overcome in nearly every aspect of my life. I have a LOT of regrets about my past, and I'm not satisfied with the present. What the fuck reason do I have to be satisfied? The good things pull me through, but there's too much shitty stuff in there to allow me to rest for long.

But I do have a lot of hope for the future, I just know it's an uphill battle. I've worn the badge of cynic proudly in the past, and to some extent I still do, but I am NOT cynical about human potential. I'm cynical about our willingness to do what's needed to achieve it. One look at a newspaper or TV is all I need to fuel that. Just as one good honest look inside myself is all I need to know how fucked *I* am.

But I refuse to lose my sense of humour for long, I refuse to buy into other people's ideas of what it is I have to change in myself. I refuse to go too far down the navel-gazing trail I often find myself on without taking a look back to make fart noises at the motherfuckers miles behind me.

I'm Gloria Motherfucking Gaynor, baby. I will survive. Because you assholes need me. Somebody has to pull their pathetic little pecker out and piss all over your complacency while he fights with his own, and I'm just the stupid bastard for the job.

Love,
Dougie