No Excuses. in Whey and Sonic Screwdrivers.

  • Jan. 23, 2015, 3:09 p.m.
  • |
  • Public

I’ve been listening to Chocolate Starfish (and the Hot Dog Flavored Water) for the past month, indulging in Fred Durst’s unique brand of self-indulgence. Now, I have some other CD’s in my car, namely two Evile albums which have gotten a LOT of listening. But back when I broke up with Candi, for whatever reason, this was the CD I happened to pop in. Starting a new semester, I decided I should finally listen to Gold Cobra. I know, I know, I’m behind the times. Both in music, and the fact that I actually like owning CD’s. I can see why Gold Cobra didn’t sell heavily. It doesn’t have the pop sound that Significant Other and Chocolate Starfish had. But I’ve listened to The Unquestionable Truth (Part One!) which is an incredible EP, and it feels like a natural progression from there. It feels angry, discoherent, ragey, and all the things I’ve been feeling lately.

That said, No Excuses came on in my gym the other day, and I keep coming back to listening to it.

And thanks to the power of Amazon Prime™ I ordered a couple Alice In Chains albums. Hey, it’s not like I live with my sister anymore and can borrow her music. …Oh right, it’s not fifteen years ago when I looked up to her and otherwise was inspired by her music preferences.

When did music stop being twenty bucks a CD? It was almost 6 bucks a CD, so I couldn’t resist.

…And gas is under two bucks here. Okay, I’ll shut up. IN A SECOND.

Dude, when I read things like, “I’m thirty-something and I think..” I have a moment of disconnect and then realize OH FUCK I’M AS OLD AS THIS COMMENTER.

“Every day something hits me out so cold. Find me sitting by myself, no excuses that I know.”

Right. It’s like I need a constant reminder of hope, of a mantra. I look in the mirror a lot and don’t recognize myself. I make a routine out of rinsing my face with water in the morning, yet it’s such a mechanical motion that I rarely actually look myself in the eyes. Sometimes it’ll be weeks in between these moments of self-acknowledgement.

What have I been saying when I confide in people? I’m so tired of there being so many days being day-to-day. It’s been this way for far longer than a year now. And it’s not that fact alone which frustrates me. It’s that I remember when it WASN’T like this. I’m not sure if I could tell you when. It doesn’t matter if it’s in the Candi-era, because well, that’s a whole can of worms I don’t know how to deal with.

When I had a lot to do, I just kind of did it like a robot. And when it became too much, I shut down. And when it REALLY became too much, I cracked. I cracked, and now I haven’t been able to put myself back together.

What is it? I kind of say “help” in the quietest way possible to people in the hopes they’ll hear me. And because, despite what I may think about myself, I’m actually a decent person, people end up hearing me. But it doesn’t matter how much they hear me because the only person who can help me is me. And that’s the most frustrating thing of all.

And people wonder why I talk about myself in the third person. …There’s no one else watching out for me who can help me other than me.


Last updated January 23, 2015


Loading comments...

You must be logged in to comment. Please sign in or join Prosebox to leave a comment.