posted on Aug, 8 2013 @ 01:56 PM
What exactly is a Muse, anyway? For you I seem to serve all the purposes that a Muse does, except I get nothing but feces flung back at me in return.
I guess those hookers were Muses to Jack the Ripper - he ripped out what he needed and left those sad, lowly creatures where they belonged, right?
So I'm a little more like them than some Goddess, judging by the treatment I've received from you. I'm more like one of Charlie Sheen's
"Goddesses", judging by the treatment I've received from you.
If you're Good, refusing to answer honest queries is a major sin.
If you're Bad, it's obvious that you would refuse to answer anything in order to hide your true intentions and the origins of what you do.
Sharing is not on one person's terms only: i.e., you grabbing my toys, then refusing to share yours. I've even seen toys that you stole from me all
over town! On covers, in text, in pictures, sometimes hidden with just a little tiny bit showing. Those belong to me! In fact, I don't even want
your toys, I just wanted a friend to share with, that's all.
I've never been credited, answered, shown any kind of respect. Anything I'm "given", anything that is "shared" with me, is done on your terms
only. And the things that I "share" with you are quickly snatched from me and paraded all over town! A pot-bellied Australian was sashaying around
with something that is MINE! He makes it look stupid! He degrades me.
Are you just afraid to admit the source because then everyone will shop there and all the good stuff will no longer belong to you exclusively?
(HELLO, that's already happened! They've labeled me, cut me into the appropriate sections, and given me away to anyone who asked for a slice! All
that's left is what I'm clinging to with my cold, eh... cool hands.)
So if you're Good, refusing to tend to my basic needs is a huge sin. Denying me those things is CRUEL and HATEFUL. "Never on my timeline", eh?
What about when I'm starving, ask for bread, and all I get is a big fat stone rolled across the doorway? I'm pretty sure that's a sin, even that
dick Jesus said he wouldn't do that. (Or was that just another sex joke, that bread and stone thing? Probably.) So since nothing can ever be based
on my immediate needs, I conclude that you are:
Bad. Just using me. In the typical RC mindset of Vonnegut, some out-of-touch rich old man observing his fellow humans like he's at a pet store.
"I hereby decree, since I am an Important Old War Vet, that Everyone [you] must be Used for something, Used and Used Up until there ain't nothing
left! Blllaaarrrgggghhhh!!" (that's a verbatim quote, and at the end he spews fire at a bunch of poor people and then writes a story about how
noble their burnt corpses are. And then the baby came out of the burning bush, and the baby winked at me! I swear this is what happened.]
I am not a resource to be used. Someone's just been waiting to TAP me this whole time, huh? That was the point of all of this?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!
That is truly, truly pathetic. What's even more pathetic, just gut-wrenchingly pitiful, is that is ALL THERE IS. THAT IS THE POINT OF EVERYTHING.
THAT IS WHAT EARTH IS FUELED BY. Sex and death. People being used and used up to the point of expiration. Then discarded in a heap with no further
thought to "who" was inside that dirty old thing. Like someone very similar to me once "said", eh, something like "Am I washable?" Am I??
You can see me - do you ever look in my eyes and wonder "who" is inside me? Or do you only read my multitude of labels to figure that out? I gaze
into animal's eyes and try to see who's back there. I show animals that dignity and really mean it - can't you at least give me that much dignity,
to find out who's actually back there rather than treating me like a material to be manipulated? A metal is not something noble, it's not even
alive. Yes, I am constituted of certain elements, and my history goes like this, and my hair is this color, and I look like this person, and my name
is this mix of this stuff, and I did like that song a lot, cool, and yeah, that movie was good now that you mention it, yeah, I'll order it off
Amazon, and yeah, I do like to go shopping - oh - so that's a good mall in the area? Sweet. I'll check it out. Hey, do you know any places in
town to get my nails done? Hey -- what kind of car do you drive? Could you get me one just like it? Maybe some decent jewelry while you're at it?
You've convinced me that I'm not shallow and that I shouldn't sell myself short or degrade myself, but the moment I agree with you, I'm wrong.
Then I get pinned down and degraded again with a mess of symbols and orders and I get the sense again that I'm just being used, or being done some
kind of sick favor. No one ever admitting anything was done, like a group of gross old Mafia guys nonchalantly straightening their ties after they
stabbed some guy to death (I'm the stabbed guy, k). Stabbing, pinning, coming only when I don't call - gee, sounds a lot like a metaphorical crime,
So what is it - marriage or just another slave for your harem? Is there a third option?
This whole thing has been uncomfortable for me because of this reason: I sensed that I was not the GOAL, but simply an INGREDIENT to help you further
some distant aim of your own, to fuel your own goals that are separate from me. Am I anything besides the elements you can label? LOVE is the part
you can't label, LOVE is the part you cannot understand and cannot extract from me, no matter how hard you suck. No matter how long you forage
through my brain and heart and guts for it, you'll never find it. Scrounge and grab all you want, but you'll come back with nothing to show for it
but some scratches and bruises, old "friend". They don't mean LOVE in the way that I mean it anyway. Same way they don't mean anything the way I
mean it, because I always mean it in a naive, gullible, childish, pure way. They mean it in a cynical, sexual, joke's-on-you kind of way. Their
posse is just a way outdated club for mean little boys, who grew up but didn't want to, and no amount of hair grease can fix that for you.
P.S. You, them, me, past, future, present tenses a mess because that's how it goes when stuff ain't planned. Just speaking from my heart, brains,
guts, you know, all that internal good stuff you're after. Grammar ain't good, spelling's good though, plus, if I can decipher your mess, you
surely can decipher mine...
Don't be hating, hoi polloi, just move along if you feel a compulsion...