Warning: I posted this a couple days ago, just reread it and found that this passage contains 15 instances of the word, “fuck.” I just went through and removed some. Now, excluding the pair in this disclaimer, you will only find “fuck” 6 times in this post. Please enjoy this radio-friendly blog entry with your children and your small pets….
I think this is going to be a post about how love is stupid and why women are extremely dangerous for me. And also I will probably talk about why Creedence Clearwater Revival is maybe the greatest band to ever make a record. I’m not sure which of these topics to focus on first. Maybe they will find a way to happen simultaneously? Mmmmmm… nope. Not happening.
Okay. Well. I fall in love every day. With every beautiful woman I meet. Which is a problem because most women are beautiful if you look at them in the right light (This is new insight for me, I used to have a lot of “standards” and all, but really… these things just don’t have any reason to exist). But yes, now I’ve got a real problem. Because I went on three dates with the same girl. I can’t get her off of my brain. And when I say love, in reference to all women, I mean irrational and unfounded puppy love that carries itself out more like innocent infatuation, or something. I’m like one of those guys in those movies from the 1940s who try to be witty and charming and just can’t stop chasing after the dames.
And so this new girl, she’s rad. I mean, I really enjoy her company. She is Mellow MELLOW, isn’t a neurotic fucking mess like me, isn’t all high maintenance. She is really good at tattooing; she is an artist and I like that. She is really good with people, has a ton of friends who are actually kind and interesting. She’s fucking sexy, like megasexy. She likes good pop culture and good beer. I like kissing her face and playing with her hair and stuff (yes, I know I’m a bit homo). And the worst part is that she digs me back! So, like… what the shit?
I have no intention of being in any kind of thing that sounds like a relationship any time soon. And yet, that’s where this thing is trying to go. Seemingly, whether we want it to or not. And she’s a girl, and plays the aloof card constantly,and so when she says “I understand. We’re on the same page. We’ll have to be careful,” I kinda totally don’t believe her. I think she’s enjoying the slow dance of drawing me into her web. Fucking bastard.
The good thing is that if this did turn into relationshipness, it would be (I think, I hope) very VERY different than anything else I’ve done. I think there would be less talking, less arguing, less lying, more laughing, more touching, more understanding, and more admiring. That’s cool, right? And maybe it would be mellow even? See, my problem is that every time I get involved with someone for a while, it ends up being incredibly intense. Because I like to play that game where I realise we’re falling in love, and so I do stupid little things to push it along further. And I like to ask the BIG QUESTIONS. I’m a crazy, okay?! Being in a thing with me is just weird and intense and passionate and chaotic and cloudy. And no, not because I’m so fucking cool and amazing, no. This madness happens because I’m an impossibly retarded child who doesn’t know how to NOT manipulate the shit out of every situation. So ANYWAY, my point is that I feel like I could maybe be a little more normal with this one?
I’ve gotten a little better over the years. I used to be extremely nitpicky (I mean I’d get disgusted by things very easily, and constantly lose respect for people based on not much), and then I had it done to me for a long time by a girl. And yeah, getting older makes you realise things. So I think I learned my lesson. Or I hope I did. It’s much easier to be tolerant of everything now. Whatever. Point is, I think this could be somewhat normal, if we did pursue a boyfriend-girlfriend thing. Which is nice. I think. But yes, terrifying.
It’s very difficult to be crazy in front of people. I always end up feeling guilty for being myself. I talk too much, I over-analyze everything, I get caught in really bizarre details. I jabber on about music far too much. I sometimes hate myself and every human to ever walk the planet. I cry at almost every movie I watch; this is really uncomfortable to do in front of people. You know, man? You know what I’m saying??
Well, yes. That felt good. I have to voice my concerns, even if only to myself. I see it all on paper, and I see how crazy it is, and I understand that it is all silly. I will definitely have another one of these episodes later again or tomorrow or Tuesday at the latest. But for now, it’s okay.
So… Creedence, man! There is a nine-way-tie for the best song ever written, and all of them except for one are Creedence songs. Suzie Q, Have You Ever Seen The Rain, Bad Moon Rising, Run Through The Jungle, Who’ll Stop The Rain, Lodi, Green River, and Born on the Bayou. Yes, I’m being an extremist, but fuck you! Listen to these guys loudly. You will know. And to be fair, I grew up with CCR and always hated them until I was like 20 years old. So this isn’t a retarded bias thing I’m doing. Seriously. Go listen to some Creedence right now, and then come back and tell me they weren’t completely bad-ass. It’s an impossibility, you can’t do it. Unless you’re a looney-tune with no soul.
Fuck, man. Rough ROUGH day.