I wake up and then go back to sleep. But then I wake up again and stay that way. Man, it feels weird waking up here. It seemed like a perfect place to end a day but now that I'm starting one here; well, nevermind. I wonder what Mike and them are up to? I head upstairs and they aren't in the kitchen. They aren't over by the computer either. Fuck man, it doesn't seem like they're here at all. They just up and left. What day is today even? I don't even remember. I think I have class tomorrow but I'm not sure I even want to go. Things would probably be pretty fucked up there and I basically hate the school now anyways. The damn place practically ruined my life. Hey, maybe Mike's at school. That would make sense. Fucker shouldn't have left without me though. I guess he technically shouldn't have woken me up either. Why can't people just follow my schedule? It's all so inconvenient.
I wander the rest of the way around the house and check shit out. There's another computer in a room near the front door, and then there are a couple of bedrooms. The bedrooms are weird. They look all well furnished and nice as opposed to the rest of the house. It's like there are just two rooms in the entire place that were just grafted on for the fuck of it. I couldn't sleep in a room like either of those though. They're too fucking boring. I'm pretty sure the lameness would keep me awake. Fucking sucks though, what am I going to do while everyone's gone? I can't just leave, can I? What if I get locked out, or if I leave the locks undone someone might come and rob the place. I'm the only person standing between this house and a wave of dangerous criminals. If they come and fuck with this place I'll be ready. I took Tae Kwon Do one time. Well, I really only got to yellow belt, but that's ok because it had Hapkido too which they said was a type of grappling. Maybe I should join the WWE. I kinda don't want to get hit though, so only if they have it so I never lose or else just pay me a bunch.
God damn it though, it's just like; I woke up and I thought I would just go to Mike and he would tell me what to do or something, and I would just sort of go with things like I have been and it would be an adventure and work itself out. He's not here though so that doesn't work. What the fuck am I supposed to do? Normally in a situation like this I have stuff to fall back on, like liquor, but there wasn't any in the fridge and I can't go out and get some. Then I realize how long it's really been since I had so much as a beer and it just makes me angry. Man, fuck Mike. Fuck everyone. This shit is bullshit.
I sit down by the computer and just sort of sit there. I'm trying to think but I don't really want to. It's so inconvenient I fucking hate it. If Mike were here I would punch him only because I would be doing something else. After a while of just sort of sitting, I start going through the websites in the browser history. I mean, it's pretty close to just going with the flow, except there aren't any other people. It's also pretty much boring but I mean what else am I going to do, read some of the fucking books on the shelf over there? Nah dude I think this is pretty much the best I can manage. The first page sounds retarded, it's called "Transgressing the Boundaries: Towards a Transformative Hermeneutics of Quantum Gravity". That's so fucking gay. I can't believe people write shit like this seriously. There's too many fucking words, fuck looking at that.
The next page is just a response to that criticizing it for some reason, which is pretty much just as gay as the thing it was criticizing. I mean, if you're going to call bullshit then you should make sure you aren't full of shit. Otherwise you're just perpetuating an endless cycle. I don't know though, at the same time I can maybe understand. If I got paid to perpetuate an endless cycle I'm pretty sure I'd do it. I mean, I would have pretty good job security so that would be nice. Also whenever anyone tried to criticize me I'd just criticize them back and incorporate it into part of my shtick. That would be sweet. I'd be like, the ultimate badass intellectual, totally not giving a fuck or anything. People would get pissed but it wouldn't matter because I'd have all the money and all the girls and they wouldn't be able to do jack shit about it.
After that it's... oh shit, it's that website that Danny was talking about last night. Applied Supersystems. Man, this company is stupid. I don't get why people want to fuck up the world so bad. I mean, things are pretty obvious with how they work and everyone with common sense understands them. Why can't other people just go along with stuff? When I heard Mike talking about shit I went along with it, because I had common sense. All these assholes have got to know better, they're just fucking things up because they think it's funny or something. That's why I think violence is cool. You don't have to worry about whether or not people will listen to reason when you have a gun. And then there's just the aesthetics of it. I mean, I didn't like it when they killed that girl in my apartment. That's different though, that was violence being used by bad people, like Mike said.
Then I remember some of the other stuff Mike said like how governments always end up working for the bad guys. This shits complicated. Fuck man, I have to say, maybe I'm just not good at this. It's probably just because I'm not drinking though. That would make things easier. But I mean, maybe they should just disassociate violence from government so that only the people can use it. Like a constitutional amendment or something. I bet that would fix things. That way all the guns would be pointed in the right direction, at the motherfuckers who fuck things up on account of being motherfuckers. I should ask Mike about it when he gets back. He'd probably find a way to talk about it using fancy words and in a way that he could make people believe him.
I don't get Mike. I mean, he lives in a house with a chick that he isn't fucking, and he tried to get me involved with a chick who he could have just been fucking himself, and he puts up with me and even lets me stay at his house. It's too weird. He's like a choir boy except instead of Jesus he believes in anarchy. I guess that's technically better, but it's also kind of weird. The two things aren't really things I'd normally think went together, but Mike pulls it off pretty well. I think I understand it though. He's just a rare guy and wants to be consistent and awesome and shit. I wish more people were like that. I mean, not even specifically like Mike but just so that where they were like... principled I guess. That's the best way to put it.
I'm pretty sure that's what's going on. If it isn't then I guess it doesn't really matter too much and besides, there's just something cool about him. I feel like I've known him forever. He just presents himself to the world in this really direct way and I really respect that. It's not like other people who are only obvious in that they're retarded. I mean, you try and figure out why they act the way they do and the only explanation is that they're really stupid and just making decisions based on bullshit. I guess they're still technically predictable. All people are predictable. It's what makes them people. If they weren't, then...
Fuck it, I'm not going get philosophical. Philosophy is for emo faggots and losers who can't do normal people things so they just have to fuck shit up for everyone who can. I refuse to even treat that bullshit like it means anything. I mean, life is pretty much obvious. People should just use common sense. People who don't use common sense are just being douchebags in one way or another, that's all there is to it. Maybe I should write this stuff down. Actually, maybe I should just tell it to Mike and then he can tell it back to people in some really awesome way so they all know that I know the bullshit they're pulling and cut it the fuck out. I really just wish Mike were here.
I hear the door open. Maybe I should make wishes more often. Mike comes through the door with groceries. "Hey what the fuck man, where did you go?" I say.
"Shopping" he says. The groceries are in these oldschool brown paper bags and in boxes and shit.
"What place puts their shit in bags like that, man?" I ask. Mike grunts as he puts down a box. That other dude is helping and I guess Danny probably is too. Ok yeah, she comes through the door so yeah.
"Food not Bombs" Mike says. For a second I want to yell at him because that's not even a name, it's a slogan. It's also a gay slogan. Bombs seem pretty cool. I just sort of figured Mike was all about bombs. Then I remember how complicated this shit all is, so I bite my tongue.
"So what is it that's that place?" I say.
Mike seems amused by my word choice. "It's a group of like-minded people who are working to undermine the institutional status quo through charitable giving." Fuck man, that is pretty complicated. I don't even really understand how that's supposed to work. I guess I am pretty bad at this stuff.
"Like, what people? Who all do they give stuff to?" I ask.
"Oh all sorts" he says. "There are folks without homes, folks who are fairly well off, other guys like us. Hell, I even met a guy there who quit his job and robbed back his work from his company. Of course, the corporation he worked for wouldn't stand for that" he sounds maybe a little angry but not that much.
"You should come with us next time" Mike says. I guess if the people are really all that interesting then maybe I ought to.
"I will if you don't abandon me like you did today" I say.
Mike seems legitimately annoyed that I say this. Fuck, I hope I didn't fuck up. "We're going again the day after tomorrow. Just be awake around noon and you can tag along" he says, his tone of voice less warm. I don't know what to say now so I just don't say anything. After a couple seconds Mike walks off. I guess I should go find something to do. I head down to my room in the basement and just sort of kill time. Except time is pretty hard to kill now. Fuck it. Tomorrow I'm going to find a liquor store, that will fix all my problems.
Just sitting, waiting. Not really waiting for anything. Something will happen. I'm sure something will happen. Maybe I should go talk to Mike. Nah, that would come across as arrogant. What if he's not as ticked off as I think? Then he would get ticked off just because I suggested he had gotten ticked off. That wouldn't be any good. I better not risk it. I'm just gonna sit here, and kill time. Time is pretty hard to kill right now. I struggle through it though, and after a while Danny comes down and says that dinner is ready. That's good. No wait. That's not good. It means that I have to do dishes. FUCK. I mean, there were a fuck ton in the sink. It's not like I can just take them all downstairs and hide them under the bed like I did with that one dish.
Then I get to thinking. If the dishes were in the sink last night, then they were probably there the night before. Which means either nobody ever washes dishes or else I don't have to wash all of them. That's good at least. I mean technically Mike just said I had to wash, too, and not all of them. So if he meant all of them he should have been more specific. It's just a common sense thing. Kind of funny how smart he is at other stuff but he can't even tell me what he wants me to do clearly. His loss, my gain I guess.
I head upstairs. It's some sort of casserole this time, I think. Hopefully it's good. Casserole is harder to pick apart than rice and noodles and all that. I grab a fork and bite into it and it's pretty much not. It isn't as bad as the food last night but it's still not good. Maybe a little bit better than pork rinds and grape soda. I think that's my new standard for judging bad food. Really, it's just that the cheese makes the other stuff a little bit easier to ignore than before. I wonder if the ingredients were good this time still. I have no idea how that works even now. It just doesn't make any sort of sense to me. I didn't see them this time, so it seems more likely that somebody just fucked things up. Especially since it's better. I mean, only magic can make something completely terrible, but people can at least make things mostly terrible.
Danny is back on the computer. I don't really want to talk to her. This intellectual stuff is pretty much boring. Maybe it's more interesting when all the actual doing stuff is involved. I sure hope so, otherwise I think I'm going to ditch Anarchy club. It seemed pretty cool and almost got me laid, but then instead something terrible and retarded happened. I guess I was sort of popular for a while, although I've always been pretty popular, and I had to do all this bullshit like talk to people at a funeral. I hate that. People should be asking me what they can do for me and not the other way around, especially after my life gets fucked up by a bunch of random fucking retarded bullshit.
So another night I go without finishing dinner. Maybe I should just start sneaking out and buying my own food, although I don't know how Mike would react to that. Better to just not step on anybodies toes until I figure out for sure whether I want to put up with these people or not. I go over to the sink filled with dishes and just sort of stare at them. I think I've done this like maybe one other time, ever. I feel like I ought to be moving but I'm not. I wait to start moving but I don't. So I'm standing there, and that's about it. After a while of that, I clean some dishes. I don't remember how many or how I cleaned them, but knowing it was me I probably did a good job.
Then I just fucked off downstairs again and went to sleep. I don't have an alarm so it's probably better I just go to bed early. It's kind of hard though, especially without liquor. Everything is so hard without liquor. Tomorrow for sure I'll go get some. It's hard to go to sleep though. That shouldn't be possible. How can I fuck up at going to sleep? I don't understand. I don't understand anything now.
This place has fucked me up, and dealing with all these people, and their bullshit, and the lack of alcohol and it's all just combined to make things weird. That's the only thing I can figure. Hopefully when I wake up tomorrow, things will be better. Hopefully when I wake up tomorrow Mike will have a plan for the day and not just leave me.
I wake up, sort of, and get dressed and head on upstairs. Maybe I should ask Mike for a second set of clothing but these seem ok for now. I haven't been wearing them for that long. I don't see anyone. Man, if they left without me again then fuck them, I'm just going to leave. Wandering around the house again. It's easier this time because I've done it before. Yesterday to be precise and all. Then I see that other dude. Thank god, at least one person is here. If they all leave at the same time then that means everyone else is here, and that would make sense to me at least because yesterday everyone was gone at the same time, so they must have left at the same time.
"Hey, I forgot your name" I say to the guy.
" Andrew" he says "and I'm sorry, I don't know" he shakes his head "you are?"
"I'm fine, thanks" I say and go on looking for Mike. Andrew seems confused by my statement, which he shouldn't be. I mean, it was pretty obvious and it was in plain english so he ought to be able to understand it. Whatever, it's not like I give a shit about him anyways. Andrew. Right as I walk into the computer room and see that nobody's there, the front door opens and Mike comes through it.
"Hey, where were you?" I ask. He does that thing where he looks near me but not at me. God damn it. He doesn't answer either. Then he turns to look at a different area near me and starts talking.
"So, you ready to go?" he asks.
"Where are we going?" I respond, although the answer doesn't make any difference to me.
"It's a surprise" he says. Ok, that answer is kind of stupid. I hate surprises. They make it hard to just go along with things because, well, I don't know why. They just do. That's something I don't like.
He starts heading towards the back door and Andrew's following him, so I guess I should follow too? So I do, and we go out to the garage and all pile into the car. I'm stuck in the back. Should have called shotgun, but again I'm just feeling things out right now. Mike's been making me uneasy lately. I'm sure I'll figure out his deal soon though, so I'm not too worried. I mean, people are pretty easy to figure I think. It just has to do with physics and logic and stuff I guess. Or maybe not. But I guess it doesn't really matter why, they just are. I mean, observation bears that out pretty well.
The engine starts, we pull out of the garage and into the alley. It seems pretty quiet. Maybe it's just because I'm up early. I've noticed that things seem calmer in the early morning. It's weird. It's like the air is thicker, or something. Hell if I know how to explain it. Maybe it's just that. Still, it's a weird feeling. Andrew breaks the silence and starts talking to me. "So, how did you first meet Mike" he asks? Now there's a question.
For a second I can't remember. "I was at a folk punk concert and I bumped into him" I tell him.
"Oh, that's cool" Andrew says. It's quiet again. I'm sort of glad Mike isn't embellishing the story with unnecessary detail. I start to say something but Andrew interrupts me. Then he catches himself and let's me go ahead, which is good. Most people don't have the sense to admit when they fuck up.
"How about you?" I ask him "How did you get involved with all this stuff?" Andrew laughs.
"Well, it's funny you mention it. I actually met Mike while working a charity. We were both just people interested in helping others. I got to know him, and after a while he shared his political views with me." His tone of voice makes it sound like he's remembering something awesome, although this story is pretty retarded so I don't know how that's possible.
"I bet that threw you didn't it?" I ask, trying to maybe give him a hint in the way I say it.
"Yeah" Andrew says cheerfully "but I gave him the benefit of the doubt, because I knew he was a good guy. After I listened to him for a bit, everything he said just started making sense."
Mike is turning into another alley now. It's not an alley with houses, though, it's like. It's an alley with large buildings. Not skyscrapers. The skyscrapers are about a mile or so east. Or west.
Fuck I don't know, downtown fucks with my sense of direction. We come to a stop. "So, uh, where are we going anyways?" I ask. Maybe he'll actually answer this time. Mike and Andrew smile at each other and I get the feeling that this trip is going to turn out to be some retarded bullshit. Getting out of the car, I just follow their lead as they go through a back door. The smell hits me right as I walk through. It's a combination of cleaning fluid smell, like you find in daycares and community college, and something else. I think... kitchen smells? I'm trying to think what kind of place might smell like that when this big dude comes up to us.
"Hey guys. Good timing, we're just about to get the lunch rush" he says. Then he turns to look at me. "So who's your friend?" he asks.
"Just a guy who wanted to tag along. That's alright, right?" Mike says.
"No, of course not" the guy says, hitting Mike in the arm playfully "of course it is. Just get signed in and get to work." He turns to go back to where he came from, then thinks twice. "He does know how to work, right?" the guy grins. Fucking asshole, I oughta shatter his teeth.
"Don't worry, we'll get him up to speed" Mike says. The guy points at Mike and makes like he's gonna say something, then disappears like he was originally planning. Mike and Andrew are signing this clipboard on the wall. I follow their lead, not really looking at it because it probably doesn't matter.
Then it starts to dawn on me where I am, and I'm a little bit pissed. This is a fucking soup kitchen! Oh God, no wonder it smelled like that. No turning back now though. When I run this club I'll make it so I never have to come here again, so it's just a one time inconvenience. That's all it is. We put on gloves and aprons and before I know it I'm standing in front of a group of strange, smelly people ladling out soup. It's not even normal soup, it's from the weird jumbo cans. I mean, I can tell because they're under the counter, and also because through the course of all this I have to refill the bowl a few times. There's two of them so that one can heat up while I serve from the other. I wonder if anyone's ever made a mistake and given out cold soup because of that. Probably. Beggars can't be choosers though right? Hahaha oh man, I'm hilarious.
It grates on my nerves though. After being told what to do, I just stand there doing it. I'm expecting some sort of cue or something from Mike or Andrew but they're busy doing their own part. I mean, this is ridiculous. I thought I was going to be doing something cool and here I am working.
Except it's worse than working, because I'm not even getting paid for it. The time stretches on and on like the dumbest bullshit I've ever lived through. At no other time in my life would I rather be drinking. After a while though, I start to try and make a game out of it. I try and count the number of homeless people fashion trends there are. Maybe I can make use of it later or something. Mostly it's just kind of funny.
Multiple coats. Check. Bad teeth. Check. Cracked skin. Check. Even on the women it's a check. Why the fuck are we giving these people soup? We should be giving them lotion. It's fucking ridiculous. There's some variance. A few people look like they're new at the whole thing, some don't look homeless so much as retarded, and some just look Mexican. I wonder if there are standards for how fucked up shit has to be for you in order to eat here. Probably not. That's the problem with charitable types. They don't know how to run their operations properly, with an iron fist, so they end up getting taken advantage of.
Then as if to prove my point, the most ridiculously white looking guy I've seen walks through the door and gets in line. Oh man, this is ridiculous. I don't even understand. Maybe he's a sociologist or something and is just doing it to fuck with people. That would make sense. Or to study homeless people or something, in their natural habitat. Still, he just seems so out of place here. Even though I know I probably shouldn't, I can't help but say something to him. "So what brings you to our fine dining establishment today sir?" I ask.
The guy shrugs. "Hungry" he says.
"Tough times we're living in" I say. I feel proud of myself, but then I realize that Mike and Andrew are here so I kind of feel like an asshole. But still proud of myself. Then I remember that Mike thought I was funny, so maybe I don't have to worry about it.
After that conversation I realize that I'm being a dumbass and missing out on an awesome opportunity. I start throwing banter at more people. I mean, if I can do it with one guy I can do it with anyone, right? That makes time start to go faster. I'm actually almost enjoying myself. Surprisingly nobody seems offended by it, I get a few funny and interesting answers even. Some of these people aren't the best conversationalists, which makes things a little awkward, but on the whole it's weird. I've actually found a way to make this experience somewhat tolerable. Before I know it the line's gone and I've been standing around for a good thirty minutes doing nothing. I see Andrew take of his gloves and turn around to talk to that big guy who runs the thing. "I'm pretty sure I can handle it from here" he says "thanks for the help guys." He turns to grin at me. "Hey come back again, there's always more fun to be had!" he beams.
I nod. Mike takes off his gloves and pats me on the back. I wave to the guy and turn around to follow Andrew and Mike out. We all sign out and out the door we go. Mike turns to me. "So, what did you think?" he asks.
"I dunno. It was pretty alright" I say, and then add in "but I'm not sure how good I am at all this."
Mike looks at me with a serious face. At least as serious a face as he can offer. "You did all right, man. Towards the beginning you were a little slow but you picked up on it pretty quick" he says. That's maybe half a compliment, in the same fucking way that this bullshit was maybe half entertaining. But it's weird. I feel something. I don't want to call it pride, because I always have that, but... something. We pile into the car and head off.
The car clock says 4:43. I've been working for more than twice as long as I've usually been awake at this time. The ride back home is surprisingly energetic. "So, you're starting to feel that charitable spirit huh?" Andrew says. It's not really a question. Suddenly I realize I didn't get the name of the guy who was running the place.
"Hey, what was the name of the guy who was running the place?" I ask.
"Anthony" Mike says.
"Ah" I say. "He was kind of funny" I add.
"Yeah, he has a good sense of humor" Mike says. A bunch of ideas are going through my head. I mean, that was the lunch rush and it lasted until now. What about dinner?
"Hey, so what about dinner?" I ask.
"We're going to eat back at the house" says Mike. I feel like a retard.
"No, I meant what about when they serve dinner. Who's helping out then?" Hopefully that was clear enough. Mike appears thoughtful.
"Andrew, was it Greg and Mary?" "Huh?" Andrew responds. "Was it Greg and Mary doing nights this week?" "Oh" Andrew says "They're the church group, right? Yeah yeah yeah, I think that's who it is."
Mike doesn't turn around and repeat it to me which is good. It means he doesn't think I'm retarded. I'm glad people don't think I'm retarded. That's kind of weird though. I mean, a place that's being run by Anarchists and Jesus Freaks and apparently there aren't any problems. They aren't even getting paid to do it. Fuck, it doesn't even seem like that guy was very strict about things. I would figure that if he didn't tell people what to do they wouldn't do it. Maybe he does but I just don't know about it. That makes sense. I couldn't see things working if everyone had to just figure things out on their own. Sometimes the strangest ideas pop into my head. It's a good thing I'm me otherwise I might not be able to shake them off so well.
We're turning back into the alley. The other alley, I mean. The one with the houses. The car comes to a stop and Andrew and I get out, then Mike drives off. For a second I'm wondering what the deal is with that. I turn to Andrew and ask. "Hey Andrew, where's he going?" I ask. Andrew shrugs.
"Running an errand" he says. I figure I shouldn't ask anymore. Either it's literally just an errand, in which case it's really fucking boring, or else it's some sort of top secret anarchist mission in which case asking could get me in trouble. Figures that the only interesting thing this club would do would happen where I can't see it. Maybe. Although I might get let in on it eventually. I guess this means Mike and I aren't the same person though, because it would be pretty hard for me to drive a car while going inside a house. Unless I was driving a car into a house. That sounds like fun, I should try that sometime.
So we go inside the house and Andrew goes off into one of the rooms, and comes out wearing different clothes. "See you later" he says and goes out the front door. It happens so fast I don't have time to yell at him or ask questions. And just like that, I'm alone again. I think I've decided that I don't like being alone. I like being drunk, but that's different. That's just as good as company. Speaking of which, I was gonna go buy liquor at some point. It's the same bullshit as yesterday though. I can't leave because then someone might break in or set fire to the place or something. I hate that. It's worse than being volunteered for volunteer work. At least then I was with other people and could use them for my amusement, even if they were mostly all just homeless people.
Man, I'm pissed off. Suddenly Danny walks through the door. "Hey" she says "Where is ever-"and before she can finish I'm already dumping the assignment on her.
"They're out running errands, I've gotta go do something myself so hold down the fort and such." Out the front door I go. That was smooth. I bet she's still trying to make sense of what just happened. That's how good I am. Although now that I'm out and about, I don't really know where exactly in town I am or what stores are around here. It's downtown though and finding a Liquor store shouldn't be too hard. I start walking. First thing's first, get out of the neighborhood. I get to a biggish looking street and start following it west. It's weird.
This neighborhood looks like it was built arbitrarily, like someone just threw businesses in the middle of houses and maybe a park every now and again just for the hell of it. Who the fuck got paid to figure this shit out? It had to have been somebody, and they very clearly fucked it up. It's almost funny how ridiculous it is. Maybe the guy was playing a practical joke. He convinced the other guys at his office that this made sense, and then once he built it he yelled out "April Fool's!" or something. That would make sense. Or maybe he was retarded, but other people thought is was so hilarious they just went along with it, trying not to burst out laughing when they told him they were approving it. Those are basically the only explanations I can think of. I mean, it all comes down to how fucked up people are, really, doesn't it?
I get to a block of stores that looks just right. Bail bonds, a small non-franchise grocery store, bail bonds again, and there it is; a liquor store. I sure hope they have something worth drinking. In a neighborhood like this I wouldn't be surprised if all they had was PBR and Thunderbird. On the other hand that might not be all bad. I wonder what those would taste like if you mixed them? Probably terrible. I don't actually know anything about mix drinks. Mostly I just drink whatever and so far it's worked out pretty well for me. I don't get why people say alcohol is bad for you. There are plenty of things that are way worse. Like philosophy, or meth. I mean, I guess there aren't a lot of people that do those though.
The government though! There's a good example. For all the reasons Mike was talking about it's pretty much terrible. People don't complain about that though, even though they complain about alcohol. I bet alcohol doesn't kill half as many people as the government does. I'll have to look that up or ask Mike when I get back. It sounds true though. I walk into the store and the shopkeeper doesn't even bother to look at me or say anything, which is a good sign as far as I'm concerned. The place seems pretty well stocked too. They have the wines, which I don't care about, and then there's the soft section. Then there's the stuff I care about, the vodka and whiskey and stuff. I don't know what I feel like getting though. Vodka is Russian, so maybe it's more appropriate? Then again, whiskey is whiskey.
I'm having trouble making up my mind. This is ridiculous. Whatever, I think I'll just go with the Whiskey. It tastes terrible which sounds good right about now. The selection is pretty good too.
Nothing really high end, but that stuffs out of my price range anyways. I'm trying to decide between a more expensive but decent brand, and a cheap but generic brand. Jesus fuck, this is pretty much the hardest decision I've made all week. Then suddenly I remember that I'm going to have to eat that weird stupid food tonight. Maybe being drunk will make it so I don't taste it, but I don't want to risk it. I think I'm going to have to save some money and go over to that grocery store to get decent food. Then it won't matter so much when the food is terrible.If only my credit card worked it wouldn't be an issue. My bank is retarded. God I hate them.
It's their fault I ended up eating Pork Rinds with Grape Soda. Nobody should have to suffer through what I suffered. At some point I ought to call them up, but even that would be an inconvenience. Actually, that would be the ultimate low blow. Fuck that. I'm not going to sort out something that's clearly somebody else's problem. If I did that, it would mean the bank won. No way. I take the cheap bottle of whiskey up to the guy and pay. He handles the whole transaction without even looking at me. He was reading some sort of magazine. Whatever. That's the kind of guy I can get behind. More random people should be like that guy, and not retarded.
I head over to the grocery store thing. "Lotsa-save" it's called, or something. I don't really remember. Walking inside it looks like ass. Everything is hella expensive too. I don't get that. If small businesses were really all that great, wouldn't they charge less? It's like they hate the idea of customers or something. I'm walking through the aisles, trying to decide what I want. Definitely not pork rinds or grape soda. Or at least not together. Fuck. Learning experience, I guess. Maybe just a bag of potato chips, or a whole fucking pie. Apple sounds good. Although it would probably be like fifty dollars here if they even have it. Whatever, it's worth seeing if they do at least. Pie is pretty badass.
I'm heading over to where I think the bakery section is when I bump into this guy. I look at him for a second and then I realize where I've seen him. This was that guy from the soup kitchen. The fucker can apparently afford food! Oh my god. Well I've caught him red handed and I'll be damned if I don't call him out. I look at him again. "Hey, you're that guy from the soup line" I say.
He grins uneasily. "Yeah, I guess so." Man, who the fuck is this guy to grin? Not cool.
"So what's your deal? Why were you at a soup kitchen if you can afford to go out shopping?"
The guy sighs briefly. It sounds genuine. "It's a long story" he says.
Well fuck that then. I hate long stories. "Nevermind then, I'm not sure I have time for it." He looks halfway between flabbergasted and amused as I walk off to continue my quest for pie.
Then again it might be interesting, but that sigh makes me have my doubts. Sighing shows that you're some sort of pansy, because it shows that things make you tired. Real men never get tired, they just keep going forever even if they're getting punched in the face or stabbed or something. Which shouldn't really be possible, except it is sometimes I guess when they get in fights with each other. I don't know. All this math is hard to keep track of, I don't know why I keep bringing it up to myself. It's probably just ingrained in my consciousness or something. People can't really help their nature, they just are what they are forever. Kinda sucks. Especially since so many people are retarded. I'm just lucky in that I was born awesome I guess. Thank god too.
They don't have pie. They do have cake though. I stare at a chocolate cake for a bit. It seems like a strange thing to consider buying, since nothing special has happened recently except seeing a girl get her head blown off, fucking up a funeral and joining an anarchist club. I mean, I guess there's the charity work thing. Then I realize that all that searching for justification is bullshit. I want cake
because I want cake, and that's good enough occasion for me. I deserve it on account of how awesome I am. By birth. I guess you could maybe call it my birthright then. It is my birthright to purchase and eat this cake in order to avoid getting stuck eating terrible food. I deserve it. That's just who I am. Maybe I can say a prayer for all the people less fortunate or something, but I'm getting this cake or dying in the process.
Actually that sounds like it would be pretty hard. I don't even know how one would die in the process of getting cake. Maybe the cake would be filled with explosives or something, or maybe the store would be located in an active warzone. That would be badass. Then I could run for an evac helicopter carrying the cake, getting shot in the back right as I get there. Then when the guy in the chopper was all sad and expecting me to give him the cake so that at least my death wasn't in vain, I'd smash it into a million pieces just to spite him as my dying act. That would be sweet. Man, I'm getting worked up just thinking about something so awesome.
I grab the cake and head to the counter. I think about getting something to drink too but then I realize I have the whiskey and that's good enough, really. The cashier looks at me kind of funny. It really is a shame some people are the way they are. She rings the cake up and is wanting to ring the whiskey up too, until I explain to her that I came in with it. She doesn't argue. I guess there's something worthwhile about everyone, even if it's just their ability not to press their retardation to it's final conclusion. I grab the cake and start walking home. Now that I'm out in public holding cake and whiskey, I sort of wonder what people think when they see me. Probably just that I'm awesome, although some are undoubtedly less perceptive.
The two things are kind of awkward to carry together. I think about taking a swig right there but if the cops saw me they'd probably arrest me, which is bullshit. I am on a major street though which makes it somewhat plausible. When capitalism stops existing and the police stop oppressing people I'd like to think society would be more enlightened. Fuck man, the first thing I'm going to do when that happens is drink in public. I mean, it's something I often do anyways, but it will be different then. It will be a celebration. I wonder if people did that when the Berlin wall fell. Probably. It's nice to know I'm part of the solution though. I guess I'm part of the scenery too, considering some of the looks I'm getting.
Whatever. I manage to find my way back to the street the house is on and walk the rest of the way home. Then I realize I don't have a key. Fuck. I wonder what everyone's going to think about the fact I bought cake and whiskey. They'll probably be understanding. Actually, you know what? Fuck it. I'm sick of tip-toeing around to try and avoid hurting people's feelings. My style is totally getting cramped by all this bullshit. I'm just going to march in there and if they have a problem with it then fuck them, they're just being retarded like the rest of the world. It's my cake, my whiskey, and my life and I'll be damned if people tell me how to eat, drink, or live it, respectfully.
I ring the doorbell. There's a fairly long wait. I'm wondering who's going to answer. Then the door creaks open. It's Mike. He looks at me and the stuff I'm carrying and seems surprised. "Dude, what's that?" he asks, pointing at the brown paper bag.
"Whiskey" I say.
He smiles. "You should have held off until tomorrow, we're going to a political meeting at the The Golden Billiard." I feel kind of stupid now. In retrospect I don't know why. You can never have too much liquor.
"Oh" I say. Mike turns around and walks back inside the house. I step inside and close the door.
"Dinner's ready, by the way" he says. That's good. Except, that means I'm washing dishes. Again. Fuck.
I head over to the kitchen, wondering what bizarre concoction is in store for me tonight. I'm sure glad I bought this cake. I look over towards the stove and it's... Spaghetti. Just Spaghetti. I mean, maybe they fucked it up somehow, but it's Spaghetti. It's pretty much impossible to fuck up. I've had a half dozen roommates and they've all known how to make Spaghetti, and they've all been retarded, but none of them has ever fucked it up. I guess my prospects for tonight are good. That's just so weird though. I got used to one thing over and over, and then they go and pull the rug out from under me after I've already made crucial, expensive, delicious decisions. Life is just so unfair sometimes, seriously.
I go down to the basement and drop off the cake, then come back upstairs and ladle that shit out onto a plate. I see that Mike is over by the computer, so I go and sit on a chair nearby and bother him. "Hey Mike" I say. He's looking at some weird paper like that one I saw that one time.
"Huh" he says.
"Mike, do you ever feel that people are retarded? Like, not just by choice but by destiny or something?" He looks caught up in his paper, but it sounds like he heard me. He turns slightly towards me.
"Well" he says. There's a long pause after that. I guess that paper must be fucking hard or something. I'm glad I don't have to bother with stuff like that. He continues. "People are limited to existing within their historical conditions, by the machinations of society and culture." He goes back to reading that paper.
That sounds pretty profound to me. Maybe I was looking for the wrong stuff in this club. I wanted action and excitement, but it's provided something cooler; an alternative to all this bullshit philosophy that people try to philosophize about. Mike is pretty smart. I didn't think anybody was smart except for me, but I guess I was wrong. "But like, what about us?" I say, wanting to double check with him. He continues reading for a bit and then responds without turning to look at me.
"We're the forces of social progress, but still defined by our circumstances. It's not possible to exist outside the rules of our circumstances. Anyone who says otherwise is abusing language." So far so good. I'm still not completely comfortable with this though. I feel like there has to be some better way of expressing it, so I'm going to try and trick him into saying it.
"Does that mean that free will doesn't exist?" The response this time is immediate, albeit still distracted.
"Free will is a meaningless term. It's a capitalist lie designed to give credence to Horatio Alger stories and make the poor out to be evil." I feel giddy. It's like fucking Christmas or something. Finally I've met a person who's smart and not full of shit and knows how to talk about intellectual things without going in for all the philosophagorical nonsense. I feel empowered or something. I pretty much always do, but that's not what I meant. I meant, like, more. More empowered. Mike is a cool guy. I think I've figured him out now. All of this makes me happy.
"Thanks Mike" I say, and head down to the basement to eat.
"Sure thing" he says, no doubt happy to get back to reading. This is great though. Life makes sense. I used to wonder why people are retarded, and now I know. It's just their destiny to be retarded. There's something comforting about that and I can really get behind it. This Spaghetti is surprisingly good. Even the sauce is good. Today's been a pretty good day, all in all. Looking back on it I don't think I regret anything. Hell, it doesn't even make sense to regret anything considering it's all destiny. I crack open the whiskey and take a swig. It tastes terrible, just like I'd expected. Perfect for Spaghetti. I'll have to eat that cake tomorrow I guess.
Today was good. I've felt proud every day I've been here, like it's filled me with an awesome power. Tomorrow, who knows what destiny holds? Oh yeah; it holds cake. Well that's cool. And, I guess it also holds school. I almost forgot about that. Good thing I remembered. I bet school will be twice as awesome as it was the last time I went. I mean, I bet everyone still remembers me from all the bullshit that happened, and all the awesome stuff I did. Now I know something more about myself. I think people will dig that. I also know that people can't help but be retarded now so I guess I can just start being chill about it. Still, it kind of pisses me off a little. I know it's not their fault but at least they should admit to themselves that they're retarded. It's part of the learning process. It's all part of accepting who you are, and shit. I guess it just must be hard for people who got dealt a bad hand in life to accept what they are. People need to learn to be honest with themselves though. Not just about what they are but about what life is.