RETROVERTIGO

I’m in a truly foul mood. The kind of mood where I could look a crying child straight in the eyes and tell them that things don’t ever really have to get better. Sometimes deep wounds don’t heal. Scars are like badges, but sometimes the mind needs a life long struggle that is designed never to let up. So you create a nemesis to taunt, tease, and pick at your inner most hidden insecurities. Sound terrible? Sound unfair? Well…..you’ll do it. You’ll need something to keep you sharp while the T.V. and internet slowly destroy your intellect and leave you wanting nothing more than re-runs and cool hooded sweatshirts with the perfect non-regular character printed on it. You know. The shirt that says “I can speak the language of the made up alien planet, and it gets me laid”. Fuck hipsters, scenesters, and the douchbags on Wall Street.

Fuck this foulness! I’m the type of person that holds on to things until they grow appendages to choke me with. A collector of tear drenched memories and regretable offenses. It’s as if I choose to live in the Ruins of a once beautiful island rather than swimming to the next place. Any place where the beds are warm and they have great coffee. My plans to fly off this place are inexpicably tossed in the shredder each time I pick them up to study.

Despite my collecting and wollowing and blah blah blah crybaby shit…..I still have those feelings of kindness and generosity that I had as a child. I was happy and the world was huge, bright, and full of things for me to do. These memories of loving the planet and people also try and choke me sometimes, but I can’t kill them off. I’ll have nothing left to temper this hatred of hipsters with and I’ll get locked up for 25 years the next time I hear some cheap beer drinking panty stain spout off some ill conceived hidden meaning in the album cover of the latest local musical abortion. God help the douche that sits there agreeing with them. You may as well just shoot me now officer…..I’m too pretty for jail.