journal: confessions

This site will go down at 22: 00 hours, whatever that means. So we
are writing in the twilight hours of the universe, I suppose, from our
limited perspective but what use is there in differentiation between
you and me? I'm not delirious. I just see life pretty clearly. And the
truth of the matter is I'm proud of who I've been, the life I've lived,
the dreams I've dreamed. But I'm nothing that will endure the ages. I'm
not as solid as the earth or the law of gravity. And cosmically, what's
the use of surviving for a few thousand years in the form of art of
literature? Hell, we don't even care about the art in our society. You
know, this retired English teacher has an autographed of copy of
"Finnegan's Wake," by James Joyce. And that isn't worth anymore than a
few hundred dollars. Now Michael Jordan's autograph is worth thousands
and thousands and all that dude can do is deliver a basketball to a
hoop. I mean, I actually like Jordan, but you see, a clutch three point
shot doesn't give meaning to life. You know, I'm crimminal. As much as
I admit, there are still things I won't say. I won't give the people
exhibit A. F the people. Let them prove they're not a bunch of yahoos
and then I'll listen to their whining. Oh yeah, I meant to confess.
Forgive me father, for I have sinned. A bro of mine by the name of
Justin Mannings sold me herb in the sixth grade. He was only in third.
That was a solid bro. Well, he got busted and spent a couple weeks in
Juvi. My actions may have had something to do with that. After school,
I showed it to some black girl who told the authorities... F-ing
gossip. Well, I don't know how it reached the authorities. But the guy
who set up the deal must have snitched it. By the time they reached me,
they had the whole story in so much detail. I confirmed it. I don't
feel bad about much but I feel bad about that. If I had to do it again,
they could go F themselves. I'll go to jail, I'll go to hell but I
won't be a moral failure. My soul is pure and that's all I need. Let
these clowns argue with God, in the form of death. Our society is not
sustainable. They can hand it over to someone with some sense or they
can die, every last tabloid reading, "Law and Order" watching one of
them. Okay, other confessions? My dad is a hard-working man who's made
all kinds of sacrifices to keep me safe, well fed, etc. I haven't made
it terribly easy on him. But his wife is a bitch and that makes it
harder. She's my step-mom and I love her but she is not reasonable.
She's one of those people who wants to argue with the wind about how
God made the world. Thirdly, I do not recycle. I care deeply about the
environment but I am usually way too stoned and drunk to recyle and I
do not really know how anyhow. I am disabled and nobody is taking care
of me. I'm off the hook. I don't understand this society. I just want
to live off the grid.