The Ugly Truths

Trust me when I say that I don’t want to write this but I will. I’ve actually had this pent up mock-intro in my head for a while. It’s not a fully developed thought at all, only bits and pieces here and there. One might say it’s my conscience dawning on me but I feel neither sorry or shame for any of it - only wonder. So, here is a very small subset of how my intro might begin:

Perhaps, the greatest factor in how my life has panned out thus far is my addiction to curiosity and adventure. Those traits alone have led me to transform my existence into that of an experiment. I was and AM the variable to my own life…and variables tend to be volatile. I often go around parading the fact that I am “truthful” in my life minus the job arena where truths would ultimately keep me from ever having a job. If I am to go along with astrology, even for a second, a Sagittarius telling a boss what they truly think of them wouldn’t lead to the desired goals. Multitudes of workers have mastered a single or few jobs over years and decades worth of time. What job have I truly mastered? None. Instead, I’ve mastered the art of getting a job. To date, I’m twenty-six years old. While official numbers cannot be ascertained as I write this, the last survey I took of myself about four years ago put me at 22 jobs. Giving a dry estimate, my job total has reached somewhere near 30. I have had more jobs than the age at which I am, some being held concurrently with others. That is not an accomplishment to me in the sense of my stability but I do revel in the fact that I have learned and mastered the art of mirroring back what an employer wants of me just by a quick analysis of their persona. Far be it for me to conclude whether or not hypnosis is real or self-imposed due to your faith in it but wholeheartedly believe in entrancement.

To play the back-up role to words that I spin out of my mouth that stick to a person’s psyche as a spider’s web to, let’s say, lunch I have an almost ageless face. If I was to describe the most miscalculated feature of my design, it would irrefutably be the child wonder of my face. It puts others at ease, it’s innocent, it’s harmless - such is the vibe that emanates from it. However, my face and thoughts rarely align themselves together. For this reason, many souls have found themselves drawn to me but, playing along in the moment of the experiment, I just as easily fed off of their interest, their emotions, their “realness”. And this is why love is a dangerous game when I’m involved.

Twice in my life I have “loved” as they say. Yet, my love coexisted with the detached side of myself. Never before have I been in an entrapment so complete but was able to still look from the outside to within. I felt everything that would be felt in a loving relationship. Nevertheless the separate part of me - the isolated, cold, dark me - always grinned in pure loathing, excitement, and scientific analysis at myself and to the person who was thus anchored to me. He laughed when they fought, envied when they burned with desire, and took mental note as they compromised. Everything had always been an Experiment. I was my own Frankenstein.

But, love and relationships were not my only intrigue. As I stated, I had a deep fascination with experiences in general. The quickest way to throw myself into some semblance of a different lifestyle was through jobs. I was never one to stick around where my immediate gratification was stifled. That concept led to the beginning of me heading for the door on various assignments. Sometimes, I pandered to my young side - working fast food joints to make a dollar. Other times, I gave in to the ideological and have worked with pets. Without giving an exhausted list, I’ve done security, maintenance, janitorial, tutorial, salesman, delivery, touring, driving, and just about any other jobs that one can think of as far as blue-collar work goes. Undoubtedly, the jobs that presented to me the most colorful characters were those of a writer and of a prostitute…

Speaking of the street walker, night stalker, I’ve always had an affinity of being out into the night. The darkness, the frailty, the danger, the randomness spoke in ways to not be heard by words. There was always something to be found if you looked for it or merely kept your eyes open. Again, my face played critical roles in keeping me unharmed (relatively) and alive. The night bound couldn’t place my look of “innocence” among them so they normally ignored me or entertained what I wanted. Many a crackhead, drug dealer, whore, ruffian, crook sought to garner money from me due to my seeming gullibility and perceived naïveté. Only problem is that once they got close, the cunning, the devious, the smile became their enemies and it was naught for me to reverse the role and take what little they had in one time-frame but then, giving in to my dualist nature, go set the money down on a vagabond just resting on the steps of a museum.

For a period of about 2 years give or take, I’ve “investigated” how night workers could be manipulated. Surely these workers had the street know-how and common sense to deflect infringing upon all that they depended on to stay alive. Yet, against a foe who wanted nothing in particular more than information, they fell. When “how much” is replaced with “What’s your name?” a level of familiarity and genuine interest transpired and all defenses were dropped. Just imagine: Doped up, coked up, fucked up, and fucked over living out of the slums, taking the time to find out about these people (which I later became at some point) made them give unto me. That was the first time, maybe, that I discovered that not wanting someone made them want you (need you?) more, sometimes. Another tidbit of info added to my virtual library a.k.a. my brain.

I was, in effect, the beast. However, I wore my sheep clothing. As I entered brothel-like places in the city and dodged gunshots, I never had the “right” emotion. Only laughter and excitement flowed through me. To this day, though, I will always nod my head that a pimp actually called the police on me and they tried to arrest me. If there’s one thing about me: If I’m in dress clothes with rubber-soled shoes, chances of you catching me rely heavily on me forgetting why I was running.

But this was only to be a short mock-intro and not to get too wordy. Nowadays, I focus mainly on writing and other ventures. People think that I’m always using an overactive imagination but such is not so. Many things I can write about and tell because I’ve had some exposure to them. I’ve played on the good side and I’ve played on the not-so-good side.

And, yet, the only thing I’ll pay attention to is the fact that I’ve played…with fire, with lives, with emotions. It’s all an experiment to me. I am an observer. I often wonder what it will be like when I observe my own death. Hopefully, something interesting and fun…