have will gurka travel

you know...i'm beginning to think there is something wrong with the way i live my life. look i'm serious now...i'm basically miserable and lonely most of the time. I'm probably clinically depressed...that's just a guess mind you, i don't go to physiatrists anymore...they just tell you stuff you don't want to hear in a polite way.  physiatrists are just fortune cookies that think you're an asshole.  

I tried one of my friends anti anxiety pills the other day when i was having a panic attack...it didn't do much, although i did spend so much time wondering when it was going to start working that it got me through the panic attack...but i don't think that's how those things are supposed to work.  so i don't think it's a chemical problem that i have...i just think I'm living life like an jackass somehow.

all this introspection is bubbling up because - i hate my neighbors.  they are supposed to move out at the end of the month...I'll believe that when i see it.  i don't think hating someone for 6 straight months has been good for me.  I've done things to these people in hopes of getting them to move away that frankly i didn't think i was capable of doing.  it's kinda scary. i mean...i've revealed alot of stuff on this blog that puts me in a bad light  for the sake of entertainment but there are things I've done to these assholes that i may never tell anyone.  and still they insist on living below me.

and the real twighlight zone aspect of it is that they seem to be happy.  they have people come over to visit and they laugh and they cook dinners that i can smell through the air vents...they smell good.  they are the scum of the earth, unemployed single mom living off the state and child support, spending the money on plasma tvs, cable and pot, the kids are completely feral animals and the 3 year old can't talk or recognize his name. and yet...they are happy and i am sitting in a dark apartment eating microwaved chicken nuggets crouching by the air duct trying to smell a home cooked dinner. that's gotta be rock bottom doesn't it?  i mean...this broads stoned while her 3 year old is swinging a piece of electrical conduit around that he found while unsupervised in the back yard and yet she's got a full dance card. the last person who cooked me anything was my editor and he's married, when people visit me they check their watch and make a bee line outta here as soon as my decor starts to sink in...i really need to not decorate my walls with knifes and guns. and by the way...i'll remember who you were when society collapses and you need a secure place to stay while to lootings going on, don't shine around here looking for a gurka to swing at a zombie cause all you'll get is my middle finger.

hell i was watching celebrity rehab the other day...Tom Siezmore has a girlfriend IN and OUT of rehab, and he's hooked on Meth! and looks like a sack of crap, and i don't think he's a hit with the ladies cause he's rich either, it looks like he stuck all his money up his nose...or in his arm...or where ever the hell you put meth. The point is even on that show, the majority of the time the guy is smiling.  there is a world full of people out there happier than me even though by any logical assessment they should kill themselves and do the world a favor. what's the deal?  Why are some people out thier content even those they are scum and i'm miserable?

what's that? 

"charma"?

well...that's a painfully valid point.

what else?

yeah...yeah i did get a lot of good things handed to me that i ruined...look...I'm asking "why" in a futuristic sense, i'm not really interested in rehashing how the sausage was made.  like what can i do about this.  and by "what" i don't mean fix anything i already did. what's done is done...let's just all move on, and ignore the pink elephants in the room...perhaps they'll get bored and leave on there own.  and by pink elephants i mean a pink elephant in the figurative sense of the mistakes i may or may not have made in the past...not the fat whore who lives dowbstairs who is the size of an elephant, or her children who are loud and smell like elephants... i imagine if she had ivory tusks proportionat to her fat ass that i could get some indian dudes to come in here and drop her with a high powered rifle and cart her off to sell the tusks...i'm sorry i'm straying off the point.

  it can't be too late. something's gotta change...and by "something" i mean preferably not me in any drastic meaningful way...i mean something good needs to happen to me out of the clear blue sky, because being miserable all the time...it's bad for my productivity.  i'm not one of those a-typical artist types who thrives off of misery.  misery just makes me miserable not productive.  it makes me want strangle people who are smiling and then go to sleep.  no part of being miserable makes me want to draw funny things that make other people happy.  not even a little bit.

back to the "change". I don't THINK that i personally am the problem...i think it's what i'm doing that's the problem...now...wait...i know that doesn't make sense...and sounds like rationalizing. 

here's what i am trying to say in an even more confusing way.  i have a lot of army surplus clothing (good lord i sound like a dousche bag right now...okay...gotta press on, this is how you grow...) i either bought or were given to me.  NOW, when i wear the stuff that is Iraq war and newer...people tend to treat me better than when i wear any old regular jacket. No doubt they either think i was in the Iraq war or even possibly it's just a subliminal thing.  it's pretty well documented that people treat each other differently based on the clothes they are wearing AND act differently based on the clothes they are wearing.  so when i am walking around with a Iraq war era bomber jacket i am possibly walking taller and possibly people are subliminally respecting the uniform, even though it's not official.  knowwhatimean?  NOW...i also have a Vietnam war era jacket...looks like the one John Rambo wore when he was getting run out of town.  and when i wear THAT people treat me like crap.  i'm serious...it's like night and day and people with me have noticed it.   it's really an interesting social phenomenon...a self fulfilling prophecy...that we so equate the Vietnam era with treating the troops poorly that even me walking around in that jacket, clearly too young to have fought in the war, brings on disrespect.

so here's what i am getting at, i was the same person but in one case i was getting respect i didn't earn and in the other case i was getting a bunch of shit i didn't deserve simply based on my attire. so what i gotta do rather than change who i am is i gotta figure out what about my life is a Vietnam era jacket and change it to the Iraq war era jacket.  

that didn't make any sense.

  you know what i just realized?...it's been quite awhile since i did a convention.  months actually...maybe it just the withdrawal from not having hundreds of people coming up telling me how great i am.  yeah  THAT"S whats wrong...it's not me or anything i did...it's YOU people not reminding me how great i am.

you know...i seriously think that might be it. I have given myself an anxiety disorder of some sort via having large blocks of my year jammed with praise from strangers followed by blocks of the year being alone and getting no feedback about anything.  what have i done to myself?  i am my own 4 year old beauty pageant contestant.

Plus when you are in a different city every two weeks being praised for drawing zombie fetuses, having an apartment that looks like mine does seems par for the course.  it's when you are just being an ordinary Joe for the winter that you start to realize how absurd everything you own is.

okay...here's what i'm going to try.

step one - not decorate my apartment like it's a bomb shelter.

step two - get out of the house more.  being a shut in for 6 months out of the year worked just fine when the people below me weren't driving me nuts.

step three - try to not let the noise downstairs drive me insane. i'm just going to try to accept and ignore it.

wish me luck, i'm gonna need it.

comments? concerns?

douglaspasz@gmail.com

myspace.com/douglasarseniclullaby

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