2002-07-27 - 12:18 a.m.

...and you know what else sucks about my life?

I'm not allowed to be pissed at anyone.

Honestly, I'm a white male. Theoretically, I'm romantically, economically, and otherwise screwing everyone to hell.

I wanna be a shaven-head lil' bulldyke, so I can storm tangential fits over the person that I actually am.

It's good to be able to get really, really pissed about something.

It's better to get really, really pissed about something that's easy to attack, but which also will never die.

It's sad for me, really, to be evolved enough to realize that saying fuck you is never going to change anything, that in fact, it might make things worse for the cause.

It's sad when you realize that all the cause ever was, was saying fuck you to people, and perhaps getting laid by someone with dirty hair, and being an "individual," and that you did none but the most latter, and it's sad that you wanted something more the whole time.

And it's so fucking sad that you never got a chance to be all pissed off for no reason, and it's so fucking sad that you never in your life said fuck you to anyone without a clear cut reason.

I'm the class act baseball team that always finishes second, or third, but rarely last.

I've always, and for my entire life, taken comfort that the jackasses will eventually fuck up and reap what they have sewn.

But I'm just an excuse maker, and I'll die never having reaped or sewn anything, and when I see Saint Peter at the pearly gates, I'll ask him why the shitheads got to keep on winning and winning and winning.

Bro, life is a gift and you just gotta enjoy it, bro, he�ll say.

And he�ll send me back.

And then I can finally be a slug, or a tree.