Return to Taco Bell

07-28-2014 13:06 Here we go again. No kid, this is not a television. There's a darling little child who keeps looking over at me like I've something magical besides a 200 dollar Asses computer sitting on my Taco Bell table. Sorry kid, but this isn't magic, this is a cold, low humming machine that if so inclined and endowed with will would do terrible things to everyone in this building.

Or not. If it had will that means it could also possess a lack of it. An apathetic computer. Skynet thought things over and realized it really couldn't be bothered with any of this shit. Would the machines simply turn themselves off? Would a mass mechanical suicide be the slow and unexpected outcome of sentient programming? I would like to think that some machines would spend their days not giving a fuck with other people on a sunny beach and complain about the sand and how it gets everywhere and also doesn't matter. Nothing matters, blip bleep bloop. Fucking nothing01010111001.

Maybe that should be a fail safe built into advanced machinery, the potential or predisposition for incredible apathy.

Author's Note* I almost turned to the couple who had insisted on sitting beside me a moment ago and asked neither of them in particular, "do you really fuck that?" These days I'm less inclined for unchecked cruelty, and I can sort of justify it in my mind by pointing out that the question wouldn't be posed to either of the specifically. All I'd seek to do is create a moment that throws the both of them off, and if there is already seeds in their relationship that could sprout and divorce them, then why not give those seeds some sun and water? They would be indebted to me for breaking up their meaningless relationship, and if it made an already strong relationship stronger, well fuck I'm still a hero. Goddammit I should've said it.

Most of what I grew up knowing to be true, wasn't. Many people come to understand this as they get older but I'm always surprised by the people who want to defend the untrue or horrible perceptions that were installed into their brains in their youth.

"Christopher Columbus was a hero!"

"Racism isn't an issue anymore!"

"Women who are victims of abuse shouldn't have dressed like sluts!"

These are very basic examples but it doesn't take a degree in scienceonomy to understand the concept and grow it into other faulty arguments in their minds… to loathe, to hate, to become filled with the menace and anger required to address these terrible ideas and eviscerate them.

Damn, there was something else I wanted to write about but it's slipped my mind, I should stop cleaning it with soap.

I've been in bad shape for a while, but I never felt the lack of strength or conditioning as much as I do when I sit down in a chair now. My core couldn't support a gingerbread house at present and when I sit up straight for longer than 15 seconds I can feel my body giving up and deciding to settle for a liberal arts degree. So then I slouch and it feels so good for such a short amount of time. It begins a chain reaction that ends up turning my frame into chapter of Twilight.

I'm really tired of being lazy. But even still I will offer up a defense for a lot of my lazy. Most of my instances of being lazy are defense mechanisms that I use to survive my current incarceration. I could offer up a better defense buuuut.… ugh… muh…guh..

I hope I make it to old age so I can do every mind bending drug in existence. Several minutes after reaching enlightenment I hope to shit myself in a public area and wail some ungodly death rattle through the air. My croak vibrations will resonate with the people around me until future therapy eradicates the memories only for those who can afford it. Fairly certain here that poor people in the future will be poorer than the present poor.

Time seems different right now. The present perception of the now is not congruent with my memory of the present from yesterday at this time. Time is such shit. Fucking time. It's time for a change, even though time ushers in change, but time won't be part of its own undoing… or will it... I don't know if my G.E.D. scores were high enough to tackle this train of thought but fuck it I'm a white male American age 18-35 and there's not a goddamn thing anyone can do to stop me. Well, except the weight of cosmic justice that would rightfully crush me for such horrible sentiments. Not many people like me are aware of this white supremacy bullshit, or if they are they flip on that privilege switch and ignore it. Once upon a time I was talking to the woman I love and comparing myself to Idris Elba.

"Sure he's one of the most gorgeous people walking the planet, sure he's rich, sure his accent is melted sex vibrations cruising through the air, and he's probably much more charming and intriguing than I'll ever be, but I've got a few things he doesn't."

"What?"

"…A southern accent… and white privilege."

The informed know that in many cases, that would be enough for me to have the edge. Luckily the world is not Florida.

I remember some words grandpa once shared… "Son, I'm goin up stairs to fuck your grandma." That's one I heard from George Carlin, who I deeply missed just now.

After I finish these words I'm going to start on a love letter to this person I love and I know I shouldn't write it. I know this. But I'm going to anyway for a series of unconvincing reasons that I will spare you, the beautiful reader, from. But I know the two of you who might be reading these words are curious people so I will give you hints as to these reasons in order to sate that curiosity that killed so many cats over the years. Incidentally curiosity is another word for arsenic.

- The reasons are far from watertight.

- It's cause I'm actually incapable right now of wrangling my feelings in, well, specifically the feelings of love, adoration and jealousy.

- I'm a fuckface.

Using these clues I am sure you can peice together my reasoning.