A Sexy Dancing Bear.

So, I figured…I love to start sentences mid-sentence,lately…I figured, since I haven’t written in a ridiculously long time, I would title this entry with something eye-catching, something with panache, pizazz, perfunctorily pornographic, in a G-rated sort of way. On with the show!

I love my new job. Well, it’s not my new job, as I’ve worked there a while now, but I still love it. I’ve made friends, and I’ve become somewhat important, in my own ways. I’m a prison guard, and I am lately being used to talk down violent or suicidal people. Maybe the captain has decided that my rantings and ravings that go on at night are useful, or he simply knows I’ll break their shit off if they start getting froggy on me. Either way, it works, and it gives me a sense of being indispensable, however false that feeling might be.

So, reading my own back entries, I realised something. I knew that spiderman makes you gay long before anyone else figured it out. Just check the dates. Yes, I am psychic. Just call me Shabooboolah Jenkins Jackson. I also realised how much I had a love/hate relationship with the ghetto back then. Now it’s all hate, as I’ve been promoted to suburbanite. Everything has changed. Everything. I feel, now, that I might be a little dumber, a little more ignorant than before. You know how you read back on old stuff and it evokes the old feelings and thoughts? No? Well, bear with me, old bean. I know what I knew then. I mean, in my head, I can see what I knew then, and I feel like I don’t know it now. Sure, I was also angsty and bitchy then, if a guy can be bitchy, but I digress. Maybe now that life isn’t life-or-death, I’ve become complacent, maybe I’ve just decided to let the brain take a vacation for all of its hard work over the years. I do know that it irks me to death. I’m also not instinctually the man I was. I wear sandals now. I used to wear boots all the time, so as to be battle ready, 24/7. Now, I’m bermuda shorts, 24/7. Not quite, but you get the point. No? Well, then, there is no pleasing you.

I just feel like the ninja has become the chinese rail worker, to die of the black lung and go out with barely a flicker. I think that’s what I want, though. Simplicity. I intend to get a doctorate, likely becomea doctor of, well, actually being a doctor. I intend to. I don’t really want to any more. I like the simplicity there is right now. No cloak-and-dagger, no trying to discern what people are thinking, just face value and ignorance.

I’ve been writing songs again. I wrote one about leaving home. Leaving Toronto. It was therapeutic. I think it’ll be the first one I record and post somewhere, in fact. When I learn to play this damn guitar. I will say, though, listening to Owen Pallett’s music has made me want to get practiced in the violin again. Just a few hours, and I’d have all my skills back. My mad skillz. Dolla billz. Gun blazin-getta few killz. Run for the hillz. Cracka, please.

I’m really hungry. I think I’m going to go take a shower. Later, folks!