THIS POISONED NOTION

The second subject of my February 15th post (I don't feel like linking it, okay?) has been fucking with my head all this week.

Maybe it's because the notion was introduced to me whilst tripping, which may have left an "imprint" on my mind that I won't be able to get rid of until I trip again.

Either way, I've been feeling sick to my stomach ever since Bill brought up the possibility that almost all of the girls I've ever been involved with were looking for something more out of me than just company and sensitivity.

I could never figure out what girls would want with a broke-ass motherfucker like me, and I hate to admit it but this absurd theory actually makes sense in light of some of my past experiences.

For example: With Holly, things didn't go sour until she brought up a 60/40 split... on a concept album we hadn't even begun to write yet!

Then there's Eve, tripping out on the fact that I accurately described her contributions to the cartoon. What did she want, credit above the title?

I remember Jeanie, who sat me down to watch Good Will Hunting as part of her seduction. She once described me in a poem as an "angel" who cut his wings, and I never knew what she meant by that. But now, it's clear that she thought she'd found herself a diamond in the rough, and IT'S NO SURPRISE that she started cracking the whip on me shortly after that.

And let's not get into the scores of women that I've tried to have small relationships with, only to lose out to a suitor who offered the comfort of wealth and the security of affluence.

I know, I'm getting emotionally paranoid. But I haven't felt this shocked by a notion since I first discovered the Big Lie behind my family's fabric. I recall being dazed for days, as if I were stoned (back then, I was straight-edge all the way), as if I were on some drug that had my mind backwards. I remember feeling foolish for not picking up on the warning signs; I remember wondering what else was not what it seemed like on the surface; I remember feeling very alone and dislocated...

I am feeling that way now.

Last night I was supposed to go over to Elle's, but lately I've been feeling like I'm not needed now that the girls have found themselves this Mark guy. I called Elle and asked if I needed to be there; she said 'no'. So I didn't go-- I know how to take a hint. Wouldn't want to spoil the mack plans for the ladies... even if I'm there to just play bass and nothing more.

This doesn't help me at all. It just lends credence to Bill's theory. And if I'm correct, I'll hear from Elle and Katie only when the guy they are working with right now lets them down somehow-- that's the M.O., it seems: When the money guy balks, call up James-- he'll work for free.

Fuck all this. Fuck it all. It's making me sick, angry as hell, completely disillusioned with everything. I feel like I'm finally seeing the real deal for the first time, and I am complicit in this big fraud that has been perpetrated over time. I'm just as much to blame for keeping a blind eye to other people's greed. I have let emotions and hormonal stirrings impair my judgement.

Everyone wants something from me, and I can't give it to them, so they leave me in the lurch. They only come back when the sound of cash registers start to loom over my aura...

Of course, I've never made any big big money, so the bloom falls off the rose rather quickly, and soon I'm alone again, working on my projects while the ladies go out and hook up with someone who has a big wallet.

Invariably, the guy with the big wallet treats them badly, because he probably came to the same realization that I have come to years before me, and is too busy taking his revenge out on all the girls who wouldn't fuck him when he was poor...

They run back to me, talking sweet, like they care about what I am going through. But they never ask me anything about me-- they don't wanna know my hopes and dreams, my ideas and visions... they are only interested in the cold hard cash, and if I can't generate it with my ideas, they eventually conclude that my ideas are just shit, and that they need to move on so that they aren't old and gray when they finally luck up and find Mi$ter Right...

This is how I feel right now, at this very moment. I'm raw and exposed, and I don't like it, but these are my feelings, and I can't deny them. I know that not every girl in the world is like that, but how do I rid myself of this virus that is infecting me? How do I clear my head of this poisoned notion that is spreading through my mind like pestilence?

Another acid trip, maybe?

No, I think I've done enough 'cid to last me for a spell...

I'm going to hide myself away for a while. I'll still blog, but I'm really bummed out about this. I feel like I've had the wool over my eyes for too long, and it's going to take some time for me to re-adjust to the new picture that is being painted in front of me.

You can comment if you want, but it's not necessary-- I know what you all are going to say. Nothing you can say will make this hurt go away. This one is gonna be stuck in my craw for a long, long time.

PEACE to you, if you can afford it...