"Write this down...go sit down and just pretend we are still talking."
I argued that I still had a writing assignment from his wife, which I thought was cool. The reality is I think this is a pretty cool "assignment" from Mr. Positive. I guess that's his E2 name. Really though, I don't think Mr. Positive cares what I write about, he just wants me writing. Why? He claims he likes reading. I suspect something more hidden. Maybe the college he's going to (I wonder if that makes him sound young) just did a study that the best way to keep someone from killing themselves was to keep them writing.
I know, I haven't joked about killing myself in these daylogs until now, but I've pretty much divided all my friends into two camps, those I can joke about suicide with, and those I can't. Actually there is probably a third camp of people who probably don't like it when I joke about it and worry about me, but can't help laughing their ass off when I nail a particularly funny joke.
So what were we talking about, Mr. Positive? Well...what was *I* talking about? You sure as shit aren't saying much. I know, you are too busy. Maybe those suicide jokes add to this sense that you are trying to do too much, but I'm guessing mostly it's your new child and all the college classes.
I know what we weren't talking about, because I already told you this story. I talked to Preacher Mooch on facebook shortly after I wrote my last daylog. He asked me if he could be Mr. Positive 2. He can't, and I'll tell you why.
We WERE talking about how I'm really getting sick of peoples optimism. But it's not being optimistic that pisses me off. It's being FALSELY optimistic. I have no idea if Preacher Mooch does this, because I haven't seen the man in 10 years or so, and I have no idea who he is anymore. But I did ask him about Moses. He did some preaching about Moses, so I asked if he believed Moses really existed.
He said in the end that he didn't think it was very important. This goes against who I am, methinks. I think it's important if Moses existed or not. It wouldn't be if everyone was in agreement that god is just a nice idea that we all know isn't true...like santa claus. God is for children. That isn't the agreement though.
Now you, Mr. Positive, don't know the extent of an evil fuck I am. I know, you laugh. You say, "yeah evil, that exists," and my whole argument is deflated. That FACTS of the universe as I see it, are that good and evil do not really exist. Now you focus on evil not existing, and that's what makes you Mr. Positive. Focusing on Moses and not worrying about whether he existed or not just makes you a Preacher, and we all know what makes a Mooch.
We also weren't talking about how I think I'm much less annoying than I could be these days because I knew Preacher Mooch. People are already sick of me never spending money on things besides mortgage, power, phone, internet, home owner association fees, gas, and the credit card bills my ex-girlfriend left me. I buy a little food, too, but not enough to not be annoying.
Case in point, I went to Egg Works with my friends...it was close to my place and we were gonna play Ticket to Ride afterwards. I didn't order anything. Now these days, despite how annoying it can be, I've adopted an "accept all charity" policy. My friend's girlfriend showed up and she offered me some of her food and in a move I had to justify to myself later, I refused. I think it's because she's friends with my ex, and she talked about her, and it was all just annoying. Annoying because it was just more of the bullshit that follows my ex in a cloud wherever she goes. "Oh we are working on a project and she'll be able to get you money soon." Moses, huh?
I do not believe Moses was a real person, and I think that whether or not I get any money from my ex is directly proportional to how much of an asshole I want to be about it, and little else. So far, I've been very nice and gotten nothing but promises. I'd kind of like to get a promise in writing. Anyway, I think these FACTS are important. Because if Moses didn't really exist and he didn't really talk to god and he didn't really get the 10 commandments, well then why should I not covet the fuck out of my neighbors wife?
So back to the point, no waffle for me ("A message from The International Pancake Institute: Fuck waffles!" -- George Carlin, RIP). For those of you that have been to the Egg Works and ordered skillets, perhaps you know, if you get scrambled eggs you get a lot more egg than if you got them say, over medium. My friend without the girlfriend got them scrambled. My friend without the girlfriend couldn't finish his meal. My friend without the girlfriend didn't offer me to clean up his scraps like the good puppy I've become.
I have never wanted scrambled eggs so fucking bad in all my life.
Thanks to Preacher Mooch, however, I didn't say a word. I didn't say a word because my friend without a girlfriend is fucking awesome. He's awesome, as you are, Mr. Positive, as your wife is, as is the only man to tell me I was welcome, as is his wife, who fantasizes about me being a whore famous enough for the Daily Show, as is the man that reminds how bad ass math is, and his wife who sends me rice and beans, as is the woman who got me my office job (so tempting to make a joke that involves pants at this point) and gives me medicine, as is a man with 1000 friends who seems to make as much time for me as he can...
He's awesome and I know him oh so well, even if I can't always explain him to other people, and I know what eats at him, what tortures him. He feels bad for the server. He does. He feels so bad if it were up to him we probably wouldn't go out at all unless he felt he could spring to buy me some food, and he has! He feels bad that there is this Mooch at the table, not contributing. Who hasn't heard the expression if you can't afford to tip, just stay home? Not any server I know. And if you've decided you can't even afford a 50% shift meal, let alone full price at Egg Works, well why are you making me look at your ugly, although we appreciate all the weight you are losing...we can really see it in your neck, face?
I credit Preacher Mooch for giving me experience seeing how much people can be annoyed with the man who doesn't spend any money.
Is that a good ending? Do I stop now? I mean, I appreciate all the time you've sat there and listened to me...I know how busy you are, and I really love attention as much as the average stripper...but when you don't actually say anything...obviously it's hard to know if you've fallen asleep or what.
Fuck it. I'll go for the double. We are having a two for one at Sketchwick's Whorehouse tonight. Come on in with your wife and we'll give you BOTH what you ask for.
So I always say that I don't know exactly when I stopped believing in god, but I think it was about the same time I stopped feeling guilty for masturbating.
I remember seeing some Jesus story on television and at some point I cried and my mother saw me and asked what was wrong. "It's just so sad what he did."
Is religion child abuse? Possibly my favorite chapter in God is not Great by Christopher Hitchens. Great book.
I also remember scolding (hitting?) a younger friend of mine for saying something like "goddamn" and when he complained I said fuck and shit and whatnot, I argued the bible never said not to. See, I was already starting to game the system. Most people do, but a few of us start applying logic to the whole mess and come to the conclusion that it's MUCH more likely someone just made all this shit up.
What kept me an agnostic was that it was really hard to imagine there being NO afterlife. Nothing? Just nothing? I couldn't imagine nothing. Plus, I thought atheists were the most annoying group around simply due to one little piece of what I thought was logic: at least if you believe in god, you believe anything is possible.
Even back then I was a big fan of imagination. I think by the 8th grade I was pretty much the cynical asshole (haha, Mr. Positive, I have you there...assholes OBVIOUSLY exist!) I am today.
Probably even openly admitting I masturbated, and still do, is Too Much Information for some people, but I really think there was something interesting at work back then, now that I think about it. I stopped believing in this god that gave a shit about whether or not I jacked off or not...stopped believing in a god that cared about anything humans did...or anything that happened on this planet, but I still had SOME guilt. I still frantically put away my dick while watching whatever nudity I could find on TV late at night when my father walked into the room (these days I'm convinced he only ACTED groggy and oblivious...although why they tried to tell me sex with women was not okay I still don't get). But sex stuff is not the topic, back to being godless.
Was I a Junior, yeah I think that's when I took Trigonometry...some girl said something about god and I just said, "Fuck you and your god too." It was possibly my first flirtation with open blasphemy. Depressing to think that being godless has something to do with shock value, need for attention, and all that.
So yeah, typical agnostic that didn't take any religion at all seriously as the religions themselves do for most of my life. Really, I acted like an atheist. I used to say I thought religions of the world were no different than when the high school crammed in the gym and we all shouted that our class was the best. 92! 92! Go Jews! Catholics rock! I wrote a poem in college that had a line making fun of Pascal's Wager. It was becoming more and more obvious that there were reasons to not be religious, good reasons.
I was actually pretty depressed when I had my atheistic epiphany. I was sleeping a lot, and I was on this bed. My little alarm clock with what I remember to be a red LED display was in front of my face. I looked at the time and obviously fell asleep. I woke up two hours later and the time had obviously passed since this clock is all in my face. I hadn't dreamed. And it hit me. That's what death is. You go to sleep, you don't dream, you never wake up. Suddenly unconsciousness seemed so simple. It helps when you start thinking about how life goes on for everyone else.
Death seems like a good place to stop. Let me just end with an idea I had today. The reason I can't do suicide jokes for some of my friends. I think it says something about how natural punishment is in our culture. I think when you joke about suicide, and people think about it, really consider it as a reality, they feel so wronged, and there just isn't anything they can do.
"If you committed suicide, I'd kill you!" may be an easy enough joke. But the joke is not simple paradox, methinks. I think it speaks to the helplessness of not being able to punish, not being able to fix, the finality of death.
Do any of you still believe in god? Isn't it obvious that an all-powerful being that gave a shit about us wouldn't have come up with some of this shit that literally puts people in agony until death is a welcome relief?
For all my whining and all my jokes, I wouldn't be surprised if the time I longed for death most since I've been dumped was one night when my leg cramped up. I have no idea how long that pain lasted, but it was long enough for me to be struck with the idea...what if it never stopped? I was powerless to relax my calf muscle. Nothing I tried worked. It just cramped and hurt like a mother fucker and I had no clue how to stop it. Certainly death is the only humane solution at that point.
I know, I know, some of you will scoff at me possibly trying to insinuate that the physical pain of a man who is simply out of shape is anything compared to the mental anguish you just endured getting to this last sentence, but at least I'm going to thank you again...there is no god thanking me for putting up with that cramp...thank you for reading this far again.