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Evil Ruffled Closet Geek

Saturday, January 12, 2008

Can't Please Everybody... Anybody

Lillian Hellman said, “Cynicism is an unpleasant way of saying the truth.” And the unpleasant truth is most of us are discontent with what we have and are envious of what others have. This being the disparaging case, most of us have already perfected the art of criticizing and belittling.

Yes, it is a cynical world. You can't please everybody. You can't please anybody all the time. It is bizarre "Satire" day everyday.

If you are rich, you are a crook. If you are poor, you are a low-life. If you are smart, you are unscrupulous. If you are humble, you have no self-esteem. If you are athletic, you are into steroids. If you are sexy, you are porn material. If you are pretty, you are simply fair-skinned or you have a great tan (which will not last). If you are handsome, you are gay. If you are petite, you are a dwarf. If you are statuesque, you are a giant. If you are thoughtful, you are scheming. If you are polite, you are a kiss ass. If you are clean, you are obsessive-compulsive. If you are friendly, you are a whore. If you are religious, you are a hypocrite. If you are open-minded, you are too indulgent. If you are quiet, you are a retard. Jeez... even if you are dead, they will say you are alive in the afterlife.

Why are we always stressing ourselves over what others are and what they have? Have we all gotten so bored with our own lives that we have unknowingly evolved into fault-finding shutterbugs? Or maybe it is simply envy eating at our souls.

I have once read that at one point or another, each of us has envied a cat’s abilities to ignore the cares of daily life and to relax completely. Maybe it is best to mimic a cat’s lifestyle and be indifferent and seemingly evil, but then some virtuous idiot would say you are inherently caring and good.

It is a vicious, cynical cycle, I tell you.


Just another Call Center

Yet a Surrogate Family I Love

Hi there.

I wonder when you'd be able to read this. I have about fifty more minutes to expend right now. I wonder if you've already heard what's happened to our beloved IQ. Well... it died.

No, I don't want to say that. Let's just say it took a much, much needed rest. Yet, it did not die. It lives... on and on... right now, in the depressed hearts of so many.

I didn't really mean this letter to sound poetically dismal. It's just that I haven't let the misery out of my system yet. I haven't cried out of my own accord. I haven't succumbed to the wretchedness that has sunk its teeth in so many these past days.

You should've been there. It may seem shallow for those who do not understand... for those not affected... for those who never experienced what it was like... to have this "family" away from home.

I have attempted to drown myself in Bullsh*t Margaritas (a name of a drink so sweet with a kick so bitter). I have tried to drown myself in gallons of chlorinated water (a pool hopefully not stirred with urine). I have struggled to drown myself in sleepless nights, but I gained nothing but eye bags. Alas, the hole in my heart remains.

So here I find myself writing in the midst of a crowd that remains to make me feel so alone. I write words that do not rhyme for I have lost the touch, the motivation, the inspiration.

Perhaps most may think I am making such a big deal out of nothing. Other people have lost their jobs. Other people have families to feed. Other people have debts to pay. Other people are more unfortunate than I.

However, other people are lucky for they have cried and released the pain. I, on the other hand, remain here, dry-eyed; my soul agonizing behind this pretense of a smile.

Why? Why am I making a fool out of myself over nothing?

Perhaps because I want someone to find sense in this absurd ramblings of mine. Perhaps someone can understand what I have futilely endeavored to comprehend these past days, hours, minutes, seconds. Perhaps.

Or maybe it's because I feel so helpless that I just had to find some other outlet; hence, these ramblings. Grammatically incorrect. Invented words. Redundancy. Pardon me. It's just a futile attempt (again and again those words) to find my own release. Call it poetic license if you wish.

Thirty more minutes to go. I apologize for whatever inconveniences these writings may have caused you (`Talk about originality).

Take it easy. Cry. Write. Drink. Smoke. Laugh. Watch. Whatever. Do anything that helps. At the end of it all... smile :)

04.12.03 5:42 AM

And after almost five years, it seems to be happening again these days. Yes, the hourglass has been tipped again. What a precarious state.


Coming Home

Why do angels have to return home so soon?

You've touched so many lives with your warmth
Your humor
Your strength
Your perseverance
Your hope
Your humility
Your kindness
Your thoughtfulness

We may not have known each other long,
But the time, the lessons, and the love
You've shared with us
Span lifetimes.

We will terribly miss you.
Teach the angels those crazy dance steps.

For Alness

Thursday, November 22, 2007

Before December

January has passed
Candles have been blown out
Snow didn't last
As long as did your pout

February sets in
With a mild gentle breeze
Heat could never win
Against eyes that could freeze

March begins to spring
Don't birds and bees abound
Listen to songs they sing
You never could hear a sound

April falls and I could see
The sun of my vague dreams
I asked if you believe me
You never did, it seems

May rises
I realize dreams are for all the wise
All in the roll of dice
No tears and no goodbyes

June sets a new pace
A quarter and I leave
You and your haunting face
My dreams I set out to weave

* I promise to return
When the sun and moon are one
Oh, I have much to learn
Yet all is set and done
I'll get back to you
Before December

No, I won't sing until December
'Cause that means I'm gone too long
I'll get back to you
Like I promised to
Won't you promise, too
I'll get back to you

For Vae Victis
For friendship
For dreams
When we believed we can own the world

Friday, November 2, 2007

Crossing the Great Divide

Death is like a thief in the night.
We do not know when it will creep upon us
And claim our souls.

Or is it?

We all know there's an end to all this.
Sometimes sooner than we wish.

Are we not just role-playing in a choreographed dance
Of life and death?
We live. We die.
We live. We die.
An hourglass for each of us.
Some with lots of sand.
Some with just a few grains.
How mundane it can be
For the indifferent.

Yes, there may be an end to all this soon.

We feel.
We laugh... cry...
dream... hope...
reminisce... suffer...
enjoy... endure...
choose... hate.
A myriad of emotions.

And we meet our Maker.
The end is simply the beginning
Of a new life.

For you and your beloved

Monday, October 22, 2007

Self-Derision... It bites sometimes


I have lost it.
My youth has left me.
My mind has betrayed me;
All creativity sucked from my soul,
And doubts sink in.

Was I ever a new thought?
Was I ever impressive?
Was I ever desired?
Or was I simply delusional?
Have I ever felt that overrated emotion?
Or was it pure imagination?

I feel so hollow.
My fleeting moods are not enough to define me.
I am but an insignificant speck
Perhaps attempting to find my place
In a purgatory of self-pity,
Which is utterly, infuriatingly pathetic.

Switching to a new mood.

I am one step behind anorexic
And two steps beyond bulimic;
Shall I fear possible cancer
Or shall I fool myself into believing
That in the afterlife
I have all eternity to be a wraith?

I own nothing.
None of this is mine.
So why all the effort?
Why all the pain?
Why all this longing for the peace of indifference?
Why all this inconsistency?
Why all these questions?