June 10, 2003 (I’m Feeling Self Indulgent)…

Welcome Back…

Ahhhhhh...

Nothing like the world flipping itself on you to feed the fires.

Nothing like getting angry again.

I've been avoiding that for a while. I've been bottling it up. You do that when you're trying to avoid hurting people. You keep things inside that you really shouldn't. You let yourself get taken advantage of. You let people walk on you.

But I got me a reason to get in touch with that pissed off side of me that’s been missing for a while.

You can only be pushed so far, y’know?

You can only have so many people dump on you and try to make their problems yours before you hit that moment where enough is enough. You can only be the understanding ear to people who are simply trying to see how much they can get away with before you start to snap. You can only deal with people who are trying to get some attention to feed their own insecurities for so long before something inside you says "Enough".

In fact, it doesn’t even say it, it screams it.

Well, damned if I’m not screaming again.

There’s a moment you hit when you’ve been cornered for long enough and you start to push back. There’s a moment where you have taken enough, and it’s time to dish out a little bit.

It’s dinner time, come and fill up your plates…

And into the ring we go…

Let me tell you about my last couple of days. They have been, at the very least, interesting.

First of all…

There is a girl with whom I have been talking for some time. She seemed such a nice girl. I suppose they always do. She seemed like she really wanted to connect with me.

Hah.

Mistakes were made. Assumptions were made. My bad, as it usually is.

The fact of the matter is that this girl, like so many other girls, was chasing a dream that she was terrified of. I’ve noticed that about women. Not to make any sweeping generalizations, but a great many women today want to have that "moment" with "that guy", but as soon as the moment comes along, it’s the scariest thing that could ever be. And it is something that must be run from as quickly as possible.

To be clear…

As soon as people and I say people as opposed to women because both genders are equally guilty, find that thing that they want, there is an inherent need to sabotage it. There is an inherent need to find some flaw. There is an inherent need to find some way that it can’t possibly be real…

My flaw in this case?

Get ready for a laugh…

I didn’t want her making out with other people’s boyfriends, even if it was just for fun.

For some strange reason, I was uncomfortable with the idea of here kissing other people, even if it didn’t mean anything.

And I was wrong in that apparently.

Read that over again. It’s good for a laugh.

I was restricting her.

Heh.

But that’s how we work you see? When confronted with something real, we have to sabotage it by whatever means necessary. We have to find some way to take it apart and make it what we are used to. I’m pretty sure that most people would look at this situation and say that I wasn’t asking too much…

I am also sure that Oswald was not in fact the one that killed Kennedy. But, the victors write history, and it would not be the first time I have been wrong.

Anyways…

The long and short of the story is that she was unable, for whatever reason, to step up and say those things that I needed to hear. Perhaps she was just afraid, perhaps she didn’t really care about me for anything more than the distraction that I allowed myself to be. Perhaps it was simply meant to play out that way.

Life is, as I have learned, full of the word perhaps.

Doesn’t make much of a difference in the end result though.

So I did what I do best. I became exactly what she needed. Why stretch things out? Why pull things to the point where they snap when you already know from experience how they will play out. I became the monster in the closet. My old alter ego. I cut things as they were.

For the best really.

I have grown terribly bored of people hiding behind easy fears and easy excuses. I have allowed it to go on for far to long. It has been some time since I said enough. I have in small ways, but I have been afraid to offend in may ways.

Fuck offending.

I was thinking about the word offensive today. I was thinking about how that word has gained two meanings. There is the meaning that says that a person who is offensive is someone who is in some way negative or repulsory. There is also the more tactical meaning that suggests that a person might be anything other than the defensive.

In my mind, offensive is a word that has become perverted by the disease of political correctness. In my mind, the idea that someone would be anything but a passive victim is perhaps a good thing.

So for the record…

I am officially on the offensive. I am officially discarding that passivity. I am coming, full throttle, and those that get in my way?

Well…

That’s the benefit of really being on the offensive. That’s the benefit of accepting the fact that you can’t get anywhere without pissing a few people off.

A lot of people seem to have this need to create some kind of monster. We push those that would dare to believe in something as far as we possibly can in the hopes of disproving the validity of dreaming.

I’m gonna make a new thing of myself…

What happens when you believe in something, and those that would get in the way of that dream are nothing more than minor distractions? What happens when someone cares enough not to care? What happens when all other excuses are left aside and there is nothing more than pure drive? What happens when all reason is set aside? What happens when someone really just lets go?

Let’s find out shall we…

And on that note…

I received an e-mail today…

Now, having been the victim of having an e-mail published on the net and accredited to me, I know what that can be like. Therefore I won’t accredit this to anyone. Here’s what it said though…

"PUSSSSSSSSSSIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!

How'd it feel to clear the place out. I knew you guys would have a shitty style music; actually, I'm not sure if it can be called music since neither you or the drummer can play and your bassist looks like a penis in a dress shirt.

Tell your drummer that symbols are not volleyballs to spike as fucking hard as you can, and Nate, try not to worry about jumping around so much and try to play consistently instead of like a train wreck.

Thank you for your attempt but fuck off. "

Heh…

Where to start really…

It’s been a while since I let myself really tear into someone, but as I said, I’m feeling self indulgent…

Anyone who starts an e-mail with the word "PUSSSSSSSSSSIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!" is obviously a well educated sort that I really can’t respond to. I mean, with that kind of vernacular (sorry buddy if you have to look that word up), obviously is intellectually so far above me that I can’t possibly respond…

Oh wait, I’m feeling self indulgent…

Funny, for being someone that cleared the place out, I find it quite interesting that the lower level of the bar was quite full (the writer of this e-mail included) and that through the course of the evening that people were up dancing on more than one occasion. Course, I suppose that doesn’t really count. I suppose I should have been more worried about the theory side of things than reaching people, which for reasons I will keep to myself, I know I did.

I have always enjoyed being called down by people who can’t think of anything better to say than that based solely on appearance. I have no illusions that I am no Van Halen. Quite frankly, I don’t want to be. Maybe you have spent hours studying theory, but the fact of the matter is that on that particular Friday night, some hack like me was holding a stage with my two talentless band mates whilst you sat in a chair.

Golly, the guy in the chair says that we suck…

However will I get over that?

And if you think for a second that the fact that people dare to get up onstage and worry about feeling as opposed to technical skill, and that is some sort of a shortcoming, than I can only feel (dare I use that word) sorry for you.

You wanna call on my boys? I’m afraid that you have to come through me first Sparky…

Spoken like someone who has never seen any footage of any of the greats playing live. Really, I’m wounded.

No…

Really…

Crushed…

To be handed anonymous criticism by someone who isn’t playing, and who feels the need to pretend to be someone else while not even bothering to come up with an e-mail address that might be anything other than completely traceable…

Seriously, I’m looking into a career in shoe sales.

The Machine Is Back

In measure mind you.

I think I may have found my balance. I think I may have finally found that balance between automaton and reality. I think I may have found that place where reality and machinery meet.

I think I may really be ready.

The machine is a part of all of us. The machine takes over when we need it. The trick of it all is knowing when to hand the wheel over to the machine and when not to. I think I know where that line is now.

Little electric shocks. Little moments where we feel the necessity of the moment. Those spaces in time where we hand over the controls because we know the radar is fucked, and we can’t see through the fog. Visibility is exactly zero.

You can feel them if you open yourself up. You can feel those moments where you know that things get ugly, and something cold has to take over the controls, because your judgement is clouded and wrong. If you aren’t careful, you’re gonna end up flying into the dark side of a mountain where the rescue helicopters fear to tread.

And that’s where I’m starting.

The machine is back, I can feel it wanting to take the controls so that it might steer through what I can’t possibly see. I’m gonna let it. I’m going to see where it takes me, but at the same time, as soon as things become to mechanical, I will step in.

It’s all about balance really.

It’s open warfare from here on in. It’s been too long since I was able to feel angry. It’s been too long since I was able to let loose the hounds and see exactly what they choose to hunt down.

We are all victims.

Mostly of ourselves.

And I am here to remind you of that. I am here to serve as the one who would chase, and yet be chased.

I have accepted my purpose. I have accepted what I am to be. What exactly that is will remain my little secret. But for all of those that would try to stop people from pursuing their dreams…

For all of those that would think that they can use other people to try and make themselves feel a little better.

For all those that try and belittle others so they can feel a little better about the fact that maybe Daddy didn’t give them all of the attention that they deserved and so someone else must pay…

I am here…

And I am waiting…

Nate@natepike.com, time and place is all I need to know…