part 4
Subject: Are you CRAZY?!!!!
To: MackAttack
From: BoPeep
Date: 07/15 10:47a.m. PDT
Mack,
Sometimes I don’t think we’re even writing TO each other. What in the Hell are you talking about? I mean, what? You are so damn rude. Why did you go out with a woman who was so heavy, anyway. We all know how amazingly shallow you are about looks and image. What was the deal? I can’t believe you found her really interesting, and “got over it”. Because you didn’t even tell me about her as a person. She was “spunky”. Fat and spunky? Okay?
You are so shallow. How screwed is that? It’s like all you fixated on was her weight….and that was that. What color were her eyes? What was her favorite song? Why did you instantly assume that the babysitter was screwing up her daughter? What’s the deal with that? Bad memories of babysitters you’ve known? I don’t get it. Were you punishing yourself or her, or both?
If I was a larger size I wouldn’t want dates out of pity or out of revenge or because it was a novelty, or anything. She’s human, too,you know. I swear I don’t know who you’ve become.
Bitter. Bitter. Bitter.
Oh yeah, I “dream” of guys who date me so they can feel like a “dirty piece of worthless crap”. Give me a break. But, then again, maybe she went home feeling sorry for you…because, maybe she saw you as you were….an insecure, rigid little man who wants to feel like crap. Couldn’t get it up….damn, at least PART OF YOU was being honest.
Uhhh, if you remember, there are lots of times you couldn’t get “IT” up. You did that all the time when you were stressed. I can’t imagine that’s changed. Your little buddy, what did you call him, the super weasel would get all limp and wiggly. Why? I never knew, but you always blamed everyone but yourself. Maybe the super weasel is smarter than you are!
But, I’d wonder why you even got to the point of having her give you a bj in your car….I mean, yeah, right, typical creepy guy stuff. If she was as big as you say…how’d she even GET down low enough to grab it much less get her mouth around it. Damn, I don’t believe you. You’re just so full of shit, you know!
So, why are you doing these things, when they make you feel badly? I don’t get it? You’re trying to make yourself feel like worthless shit, aren’t you? Part of the tortured artist thing. Yeah, yeah. I remember that. Same music, same tune, FASTER BEAT.
I think you should do SOMETHING besides just the same old thing you’ve been doing since you were a teenager. Something…..I mean, come on, grow. Evolve. It’s like saying…..these are the clothes that I wore when I was six years old…..I like them, they’re familiar. I should still be able to wear them…..even IF you could still squeeze into them, would they be comfortable? You are still squeezed into dreams and plans that you made a long time ago. Maybe it’s time for some new plans, new dreams. Maybe the rigidity and the tenacious grip could be loosened a little and you could have FUN. I swear, everything you write about sounds like some huge task that you are compelled to do. Wailing “the day is a good one, when we only cry a little”. You’re nose to the grindstone thing just gets old. What do you get? A ground down nose and a bloody grindstone. I was saying…try something else, something different. Try looking at the world with something other than bile colored glasses. You remind me of my mother. Maybe that WAS the attraction all along?
Wait, I know. You just want to be the tortured artist. I forgot.
You don’t want to have any fun. You envy people who have fun. Who try things. You hate them. So, you don’t want to be like them. It’s you against the world, isn’t it? Yeah….figures. You still haven’t become part of the world, have you? No….everyone needs to play by YOUR rules…..your game. I forgot….you’re somehow special, and we’re supposed to bow down and Kiss your ass. Damn. Excuse me for not. Okay?
I don’t dress windows. I haven’t been hired yet. The way it’s been going…I may NEVER be hired. I don’t have any experience and that’s the problem. I have an art degree, nothing else. It’s not like a clear career path. I put in applications, and hear “we’ll call you”. I just keep plugging away. You don’t get it, do you? It’s just a dream. I’m putting in applications to do graphics, too. But, I’m not as keen on that as work. I’ll take the job if it’s right. Until then I serve drunks drinks.
Yeah, don’t bother my pretty little head. Screw you! Don’t be such a horse dicked brain damaged sasquatch. Try finding some human regard to growth that high and mighty mind of yours. Maybe you are right, you deserve all the misery you can get.
Aimee
Aimee Is A Little Crazy 