rapture

i don't tell people this blog exists. if you found it, good job - you either did a google search or got lucky some other way. your reward for whatever sleuthing you did is a regularly unrepressed me, and all the things i don't otherwise say. some of it will be pretty gritty, but they won't always be particularly shocking.

for instance, i hate how sometimes i go to use the microwave, and i see the numbers on it and i think, oh, the last person who used it pulled their shit out before it was over and didn't reset the time. then i hit reset a few times and nothing happens, and then it's like, shit, it's late.

i think macho man randy savage was just trying to beat the rush. i'm thinking about writing a short story about how he convinced god to put off the rapture. i gotta wait a few days, though, because what if i stay up all night writing it, then the rapture happens? egg on my face, damn. that's a joke that i can only make tonight. tonight, when i'm sitting here thinking, damn, what if the rapture happens? would anyone notice unless it was televised? would it be covered by the mainstream media? or will i see it popping up on the fringe for months, scattered reports of persons missing, presumed raptured? i mean, i don't think anyone i know would be. i hope my parents would be, because as their only son i want to think the best of them, which means they're good enough people to go to heaven and get the hell out of my life without the whole horror of their natural deaths. but i don't think they were, they're probably sinners like me and everyone i know, so i'll have them here to help me ride out armageddon. it's probably for the best.

talking about my parents' sins, and weighing the pros and cons of their persistance in a post-rapture world. heavy shit, right? just as promised. sorta.

i wrote a book. actually i've now written something like five, or six. actually, i'd only call it a book of it's over 100 pages, so maybe four? i don't think anyone has read them. one of my roommates claims to, but he'll claim anything. i wonder how much is true, sometimes; i let it be a silent faith, for the most part. maybe some other people have; god knows i've sent them out enough times, both by request and otherwise, but i never get feedback. people don't read, and when they do their first reaction is so rarely, "oh, shit, i gotta go talk to the author now." it's the sort of fame that allows you to stay the fuck away from people, but it's the sort of fame where you're not sure if you're famous until your books are lining the shelf and you've got an episode of Family GUy saved to the TiVo where they reference you or one of your stories. but if you're that guy then you're probably out doing book signings and readings and shit like that... i wouldn't want to do that, wouldn't know what to do, never been to one, never wanted to go to one. i don't understand that sort of reader, really. i don't understand any sort of reader, or any sort of person. i pretend to. but i don't. i want everyone to be perfect, i want everyone to be pure evil, i want everyone to aspire to more, i want everyone to relax more. contradictions, contradictions, but it's an okay sort of paradox, because none of it's true. fictional paradox.

what are we doing here? i think i was complaining about nobody reading the stories i spend so many sleepless nights transcribing from the muse whispering frantically (i think she's a coke addict now) in my ear. i was also mourning the loss of a childhood hero, and thinking about my parents. i hope they're doing okay, my parents, randy savage, my unread stories. they're all aging, but none of them are wine, their birth dates may as well be predicted expiration dates. macho man's was yesterday.

sigh. one last thought: if tomorrow were my last day on earth as i know it, my only regret is that i will not wake up that morning next to something beautiful. i'd consider it a betrayal, almost, if she were capable of hurting me that badly, if she didn't have such a damn good excuse (as always), if i weren't so damned congested and shitty right now in the first place. maybe i'll get to wake up to an angel in armageddon's first dawn, though. that'd be nice.