Friday, August 18, 2006

RANT: Going Home...

So, I gotta share one of my biggest secrets ever with you. No, I don't know who you are (but if you're reading my blog, you're likely someone who enjoys being offended), but I think I can trust ya. The secret is this: I never want to go home.

"Where is home?" you ask. Well, I'll tell ya. Home is the rat cesspool of a hamlet known as Coffeyville, Kansas. I think of the sulphur stink and the racism and the endless array of bad memories and I tremble. I hate the town.

Still, I've been dragged back there on more than one occasion. I had to do a stint at when times got tough, and I have to pay lip service to the time-honored tradition of visiting family. I drive down my old street, past my old schools, toward my old house, and I really want to turn the car around and go the fuck right on back to Manhattan. That's mostly the reason I won't be attending this thing.

It messes with me, 'cause I'm mostly fearless. I'm a goddamned caveman golem. I'm fucking invincible - the distilled elemental essence of 'fuck you!' Still, the thought of touching base with the three folks I used to run with that I'd actually want to see isn't worth the trip. My brain won't rationalize it. I can't make it click in my brain that I should want to see folks I went to highschool with because that's what people do after ten years.

In writing this, I think I might've figured out why. I'm not afraid that I'm not as successful as I should be, I'm not afraid that folks'll ask about shit I don't want to talk about and I won't have a good answer other than "Never marry a whore.", I'm not afraid that they'll judge Penner ('cause she's invincible too, fucking A right!). Nope, I'm afraid of getting swept up in that thing I used to be and those things I used to do. It'd be easy to fall into old molds, but they aren't me anymore.

So I'm not going home. I just got a big promotion and I can't afford the time away from work anyway. It's a good enough excuse for me, and generally an easier one to explain.

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