Broken
September 14, 2001

Everyone, let's pretend.

Pretend you know nothing about me. Pretend you don't know that I am a right cynical bastard. Pretend you don't know how cold, black, and dead my heart really is. Pretend I've never posted here before.

Are you pretending? This is serious...work with me here.

I am a people watcher. I am fascinated by all people. I'm amazed by the things they do, and the things they say. I often analyze people and try to understand WHY they did or said something. I get pleasure from going to the mall and watching people as they shop, or as they talk. Just to watch. I'm not a psycho, I'm just amazed by people and their routines...I guess it's because I'm bored. I never approach the people I watch, and I usually don't interfere with their day. I just observe them like I'm watching a movie. I'm not a voyeur, per se...but I watch like to watch people and try to understand people.

All this week I've been looking at pictures of people, places, and things and they are all broken. Even my girlfriend is broken! All the pictures I've seen this week are of things broken...and it has struck me squarely in my cold, dead heart. I have been on the verge of screaming for days because of these images. I need to see something pretty. Anything pretty. I went back through all my photos from my photography class and they aren't very pretty. Black and white photos have a certain "dark" quality to them. They made my situation worse. I scoured the internet for photos...and found a lot of porn. While that made me kinda happy for a few seconds, it wasn't what I was looking for.

The artist in me is craving attention. I need to see something pretty to tear the fear from my eyes. I found nothing. After this week I will forever be looking at people with suspicion instead of interest. I already don't trust anyone I don't know, but after this...I think I am now afraid of those same people.

I've said it 1000 times: Human beings cannot co-exist. (Sure I stole that line from a Biohazard song, but it's *so* true...it bears repeating, over and over.)

Here’s what I don’t understand: Someone whom I have never met with a name I can't pronounce, did something horrible to people I have very little in common with, and the reason for this act has every bit of ZERO to do with me. Logically this tragedy wouldn't mean tit to me...would it?

No...it has me totally frazzled. I'll explain..

When we were young and still suckling from mommy and borrowing money from daddy, we didn’t worry about the problems of the world. Our only concern was getting blow jobs. Then we grew up and somehow got a credit card.

Now we have a mortgage, car payments, health coverage, insurance, oil changes every 3000 miles, acid indigestion, shitty internet connections, bad haircuts, Occupational Privilege Tax, persistent headaches, cat puke on the carpet, and embarrassing flatulence. We deal with people who drive with one foot firmly pressed on the brake at all times, people who didn’t know Buster Pointdexter wasn’t his real name, people who stop to let you pull out when there is no one behind them, people who talk loudly at lunch about Nostradamus predictions, and coworkers who stand at your cube and talk for hours even after you take a few phone calls and write a dozen e-mails.

When you’re young, you don’t care about things like…oh I don’t know…WORK. As soon as you get off the bottle and dad’s wallet slams shut, all of the sudden the problems of the world are YOURS TOO. Anything that could possibly disrupt your daily routine is now a HUGE issue. Well this tragedy is a major disruption to our daily routine. Remember watching “Gulf War TV” (aka CNN) ten years ago? Get ready to relive that…for a long, long time.

The point Fritz...get to the fucking point, you rambling git!

I have no point. I just needed to share my feelings with everyone, and let you know that even though I come off as a total wank, I am a caring person. I just stop caring when I get let down.

To everyone back home: I miss you. Pour a Cap’n & Coke for me.