For Real

You always hear how some people walk around with an angel on one shoulder, and a devil on the other; both whispering advice and shit to confuse the hell out of the poor asshole carrying them around. See, I don’t have that problem. I have two gargoyles perched on my shoulders. Usually they just sit there; dead quiet, observing and all-knowing – and sometimes they lean over and look at each other, exchanging some nod of approval to what I am currently up to.

When I wake up in the morning, after the usual nightmares, they are waiting for me, perched on my window sill like two guardians. They don’t jump and down like some stupid dogs, but just sit there with solemn expressions, waiting for me to start my day. The second I leave my apartment they settle down on each side of my head and then just ride along, waiting to see what unfolds.

Sometimes they weigh me down, but for the most part they make my life less complicated. Like the other week, for instance: I was walking down some street or other, on my way to absolutely nowhere, when this fucking doomsday prophet, dressed in cardboard, grabs a hold of my sleeve and tugs it so hard I almost fall down. I didn’t look around for help. I didn’t yell or scream. I punched him in the fucking throat as hard as I could, and then I just walked on. I didn’t look back or nothing. As I turned the corner I felt my two gargoyles’ silent approval. It feels good, somehow, knowing that my conscience is entirely made up of two grumpy gargoyles in perfect agreement with all my actions. I call them Cindy and Lou. Don’t ask me why, but it works for all of us.

I guess it all comes down to the fact that I never second guess myself. I don’t over-analyze or under-analyze anything. It is what it is. I am what I am. If I do something, I do it and move on. Too many people in this world seem to give in to their doubts, weaknesses and strange ideas and just end up losing themselves in the process. I always looked down on the insane. If you are so fucking weak that your mind crumbles in the face of the slightest adversity, then maybe you are just not fit to live on this planet? They should convert all loony bins to death camps and shower the inmates once and for all. Likewise, I don't get all broken hearted motherfuckers that walk the earth with sad fucking faces and mascara running down their cheeks. Your heart is not really fucking broken you know. It’s a fucking muscle that keeps pumping your stupid blood around like a stupid fucking wind-up monkey, only slowing down as you hit your older age, or maybe as you contract some terminal disease - finally. The world doesn’t stop turning in anticipation of whatever the fuck the outcome of your little problem is. All the rest of us don’t give a shit, so why should you? It obviously wasn’t worth getting all bent over since the Jerry Springer Show didn’t contact your mopey ass.

My high school shrink always told me I was emotionally challenged. Challenged? Fuck that. I am a cold bastard. You can dress it up in any medical term you want, but the bottom line is that I am the world’s last fucking realist. I don’t let emotions cloud my judgment. I don’t let feelings get in the way of what has to be done. Sometimes I think I should be the President, to get the job done, but then the intellectual side of me strongly disagrees and I would probably shiver with disgust if I could. Well, at least the idea to give everybody who listens to Panic at the Disco the needle looks good on paper.

Well, I am off to Queens. I have recently taken up an interest in stalking this one chick I met on the train the other night. She smiled at me, batting her eyelashes, obviously flirting with me, and when I didn’t smile back but just looked at her instead she seemed embarrassed (or perhaps scared?) and got off at the next stop. I got off as well and snuck away in the crowd, but not too far away. I waited for her to catch the next train and then I followed her all the way to Forest Hills where she got off for real. I trailed her until she disappeared into this big apartment building. I waited on the street until I saw what light came on within the minute, and then I climbed the fire escape of the building on the other side of the street. From the roof top I got a perfect view straight into her living room / bedroom. She is not pretty or anything, at least not to me, but I think I should study her for a while. You never know what needs to be done until you properly assess the situation, right?

Cindy and Lou agrees that it is a good idea.

/

Ash