February 18, 2005
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Topic: WINER DOG and AND
I went to the Bowery Poetry Club last night…and this 5-year old goes up for open mic, night, with his mom sitting in the front row. Here are excerpts:
there was a weiner dog
he smelled like shit
the dog was a fucking bastard
the pee was yellow
the poop was brown
grandma’s underwear smelled like dirty fish
and my mom loved to sleep with the underwear
I nearly killed myself laughing.
Then I went to the Comedy Cellar:
“When I get home, the first thing I’m going to do is take off my wife’s underwear…
they’re really crushing my balls.”
It was a night of vulgarities, of everything offensive, of beer and pizza, of an uncensored look into some of life’s realities. And I fuckin’ loved every minute of it.
And i thought…if it’s worthy for someone to spend their life making people laugh, then it’s ok to laugh, and smile, and play, even though those bastard fuckin’ weiner dogs in Africa are starving on $2/month, and I’m supposed to mourn over the plight of justice in this world. Well…enough of this “life is a funeral” business.
And i’m still passionate about truth, justice, the American way, and all that good stuff, but i’m Jewish, i don’t have a heaven to look forward to, so this is it. Break out the champagne…
and i was thinking how i still feel like a kid, and i was thinking how i think like a 65-year old, and I realized, I’m wise for my age…
and i nearly bought a flight to london today because it was $208r/t, but then about $400 w/ taxes, which is still cheap, and i thirst to travel, but even a 65-year old knows you can’t spend money like your wife would like to, so…i’ll sweat it out till the fall.
and i’ve eaten pizza for almost every meal the last 2 days here in NYC.
and it’s perfectly ok to start a sentence with and
and if you want to give me shit about it, well, you’re a bastard fuckin’ weiner dog
and i started reading the Da Vinci Code
and i started reading a book called, “Happiness”
and i should do an open-mic poem
and
Comments (3)
When you mentioned “the American way, and all that good stuff” I just thought of this…. you want to check out a good book that will blow your mind the way People’s History of the US did?
Check out On the Justice of Roosting Chickens.
Peace.
Perks Of Being A Wallflower — I read it two years ago.
Interesting: I read the book while listening to a new CD every night before bed. I read the book and was totally enveloped in it and read it religiously though it confused me and I didnt realize its immencity. But i noticed, whenever I pop in that old CD it gives me a feeling I got from the book that I wasnt aware of when I was reading it. And the feeling is un recognizable, because it came from of part of me I cant catagorize. Which I find envigorating.
Depression – Sucks. There isn’t much more to say about it. Im a very analitical person. And i suffered through the disorder for about 6 months of torture, trying to convince myself that I had a lingering PMS, or maybe it was just teen angst ( which I as a person refuse to fall into ).
I also dont really belive in medication. I am a strong beliver in, ” if it was created naturally, there has to be a cure naturally”, not in some bottle that an indian lady hands to me at RiteAid every few weeks.
Im a very self relying person. Everything I deal with is in my head first. It’s anilyzed, broken apart, put back to gether, and then shared. When I face probloems I refuse to seek help first, first just let me decide what is truely wrong and then I will let other help me.
The problem is, when the depression acctually set in, in Sept of 2003, I lost myself. I couldnt find my center. I lost contact with who I knew myself to be, and couldnt find my support, I couldnt find myself. I spiraled untill I woke up at the sound of my alarm and cried; gained composure brushed my teeth, got dressed, got on the bus and cried. I found myself sitting in my room repeating over and over again, in my head, ” I want to go home ” … but I was there. I needed the comfort of somthing I couldnt find but was so close. Myself.
There was no trigger for my depression, and I still think every other teenager who complains about hating their life is absolutley playing into a cliche. Maybe I am too, all I know is this cliche is a bitch, and I will conquer it.
Mom – mom never went to college. She had a psyco for a mom, who spent all her college money. My mom has been working in the same since highschool
Dad – understands me, I love him, ( granted I love my mom equally ) my dad supports whatever I want to do as long as I redearch it first.
Yes parents ARE afraid of what they dont know. Dan, people are afraid of what they dont know. It animal defense. Why is a child afraid of the dark? Why did I sing when walking back to the village with no flashlight? Its not the acctual element that scares us, its the idea of not being in controll. And for parents and other human beings alike, not being in controll is somthing we, as people, are beginning to lose touch with.
On a lighter note, I am looking for a book. Tell me if Davinci code is working for you, because I would love to read it.
I miss you.
I miss the village. Mainly because I am fascinated by the fact my mind has chosen to forget the fighting, and the psyco stalker rich, and the mess ups, and the disrespect from head staff, and the trouble. Because just like every other year, I dont recal being happier.
(p.s. fun game. look at pictures from camp and from home. There’s a difference in smiles. I swear it.
benni
Rich was a psyco. He would invite me into his tent at night, he would try to hookup with me, he would watch me sleep (ask jilly, shira, marin, or allie ) and I played basketball on his team once, and he wore my jersey every time he played.
bottom line. Psyco.