Wednesday, October 17, 2007

Just call me "Sid"...

...because I'm feeling really vicious tonight.

Maybe it started while I was talking to a neighbor who was out enjoying some sunset-time doobage this evening. He was slightly bent about someone or something, and I mentioned I had a short list of people for whom I'd be a happy spectator as the shit-storm hit them.

He misunderstood, thinking I might, if connected to a "family," be ordering hits. I swiftly disabused him of that; I was thinking, I said, of those who skate right past the punishments karma is supposed to deliver.

On that matter, we agreed. Where the Ghetto Meets the Sea is, after all, the last stop before a very wet hike to Hawaii, Japan or Australia, depending on which direction you choose. Some of us have reached the end of our various ropes, have been over-karma-ed when we fetched up here. Charles Bukowski went mad here, kids, not in whatever apartment in the San Fernando Valley the city wants to make into a shrine for him.

If ol' Charles had lived, he would have moved into this building to suffer a bit more before he tapped out, Jim.

But I digress.

Damn near everyone is within target range of my short-fused cannon tonight. Among those who are in dire need of a karmic pop in the snoot are:

Two ex-girlfriends;

All politicians;

Self-righteous political commentators;

Advocates for various religions;

The East Indians who run the corner store.

PARENTHETICAL HEY-I-KID-BECAUSE-I-LOVE NOTE: The last are included just to be, well, vicious. I actually like the owners of the Pt. Fermin Market. But I should offend someone by including a comment some over-sensitive person will pounce on as "racist," and I am feeling offensive as hell tonight.

I know damn well I must have been Rasputin's meaner brother in a past life, 'cause I'm paying big-time for something major-league awful I must have done.

So why is it that people who sow pain and discomfort wherever they go get a free pass?*

This is, in case you care, not really me writing this. I try to love, want to love -- or at least like -- as many people as I can before time's up.

Bah. Forget it. I doubt I could ever explain this clearly.

PARENTHETICAL ONE-HOUR-LATER-NOTE: Another neighbor came by to ask me to look at his car and tell him what's wrong with it. Diagnosis: total, ugly head-gasket failure. Engine is now a giant paperweight. He and his wife were not happy....

The hell with this. I can't face any more grief (mine or anyone else's) or introspection tonight.

* This question is what gets the religious folks on the list. I don't want to hear any damn "it's God's will" or "the sun shines equally on the righteous and unrighteous" blather. I want a God who knows what the score is and, like Judge Roy Bean, hands out swift and terrible punishments to miscreants.


Anonymous said...

Did you sleep with any married men? According to a strange stalkerish type person that hangs out in my journal that's what happened to my karma.

I say, "oopsy."


John said...

If God is involved, it is the same involvement an architect or contractor has with a building. They put it up, what happens in there or what use it goes to not their concern.
I'm in agreement. The whole mess is the kingdom of the vile.
Whether you are a church person or not, the mistake is internalizing and practicing what amount to Christian principles. You do not find much of it in churches. It is found where people are at the end of their rope who really ought not be there.

lowandslow said...

I've known a few people who seemingly just skate through life, too, who really deserve to be under the wheels of a big 'ol bus. Maybe under a big 'ol politician? Hmmm...Snap a few pics, then we're rid of both of 'em. Sweet!


Lubie said...

Even when you want to be a lover and all peaceful life can make you into a bitter old bitch like Bukowski~