WHO AM I?
Good question.
I don’t think there’s any one definitive answer that really says it.
To quote the Joker, if I have to have a past, then I prefer it to be multiple choice.
There’s the requisite stock answer, which is I am blah blah blah, and I’m from blah blah blah, and this happened to me and that occurred.
There’s the embellished dramatic answer, which is I came from an existence wrought with experiences that pierced my soul to the core and made me who I am, an exposed network of neuroses for your entertainment.
Then there’s option C…
The whirling ball of fuckshit I call my life.
It is a chaotic mass of utter fucking insanity.
Messy don’t even begin to cover it.
It’s a superhero movie written by two Dadaists on some fucked up meth.
I’ve managed to get as far as I did by holding on with both hands and keeping my foot firmly on the accelerator.
And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
If I didn’t live my life, somebody would have to make this shit up.
Seriously. It gets hella weird at points.
But I love it, specifically because of the weird shit. It’s given me a unique outlook that borders on…you know what? Fuck it. It is a superpower.
It doesn’t border on shit. It’s wild, yo.
Inside my weird head, my life plays out like a weird ass superhero movie, with the baddest fucking soundtrack ever.
Tarantino would sell his left nut and suck on Kellyanne Conway’s feet for my screenplay.
It’s 52 years long and covers a fuckton of bases.
It’s an action sci-fi rom com suspense screwball comedy horror thriller drama blaxploitation adventure saga.
I’m like Slim Pickens rodeo riding the H-bomb to Apocalypse.
I figure if I’m living on borrowed time, then I better burn this bitch down properly.
I’m gonna use my time to talk about the freaky shit I’ve done and seen.
I’ve been here and there, and I’ve seen this and that.
Like Alice, I’ve drunk and ingested shit that flipped my lid and knocked me for six.
I’ve been through the looking glass, and had a staring contest with the abyss for shits and giggles.
I’ve died and been reborn countless times. Like Mario, always looking for the magic mushroom to power up.
A fortune hunter seeking that elusive currency of cool.
I went looking for the American Dream, only to find that you had to be asleep to see it.
I made a fool out of myself for sex…and went back for thirds.
I’ve been with men and women…unapologetically and I enjoyed it. A LOT.
I’ve felt sexual attraction all across the gender rainbow.
I’ve wanted and lusted and pined and pleaded and been shot down and picked up and used and abused and screwed, blewed and chewed.
I went looking for answers to impossible questions.
But most important…I NEVER wasted a moment listening to shitty music.
So here I stand on the verge of beginning an all new chapter, a new scene to the never ending screenplay.
Where it goes…who the hell knows?
It ain’t about the destination…it’s all about the journey.
So get in, loser…We’re going on a roadtrip.
And I am always IN CHARGE OF THE TUNES.
