On The Call Of The Hospitable

Late last night I attended a soiree to which was designed for a coworkers friends to say goodbye before she left to see her father in Bolivia. One fact about my personality was cemented into my mind as it often is in these situations- I am no good in groups of people. There's a block somewhere in my head, preventing me from having any idea whatsoever on what to say. If I'm left in a room with one person, I can generally strike up conversation easily. But you put me in a situation with more than a couple people and I'm at a loss for words. This includes friends as well.

I knew this would happen, especially since I barely knew anyone there. But I couldn't not go because the hostess was gracious enough to invite me, when apparently it was an "exclusive" get together.

I feel compelled to make appearances at these sort of things regardless of scenario because I know that to grow as a human being I need to be comfortable around others of my species. But no matter how aware of this I may be, I can't seem to pull it together. People just bug me. Bug me to the bone. Or maybe I just bug myself.

So for the most part I just sat outside with whomever decided to wander out there, smoking and listening to conversation. I left shortly, after the sense of not fitting in became too much to bear. And I proceeded to rock the fuck out to "Are You A Hypnotist??" by the Flaming Lips while coughing my lungs out from smoking half a pack in the previous hour and a half.

The moral of the story? I have no idea. I wish I did.

Left to his own devices,
Mk

On Refusing To Accept The Dregs Of Society

Some days when I'm being Super Waiter I notice a surprising amount of morons, assholes, and thugs dining at our restaurant. These days suck because one of my awesomest super powers is pretending I'm One Of Them, which by the end of the day has sucked me dry and made me question my optimistic view of the universe. I never suspected for a minute that humanity could be terrible in so many different ways. But naturally, one type of group makes me feel worse "connecting" with than any other.

Parents with insane children.

You'll find one of the scariest things in this world is a child that abides strictly by the destructive non-laws of chaos. The kid that won't do what his parents tell him, no matter how dire the situation. Screaming, crying, kicking, laughing maniaclly as his parents stop him from shoving a fork into his brother's eye. These kids exist, and they are humanity's greatest downfall.

I propose we offer a new waiter position in restaurants everwhere. If a waiter seems intelligent and of sound judgement, we put him through a special training course on how to eliminate these children when they are sat at their table. A few rotten waiters will get in and kill innocent people, but we can't let that deter us from our necessary goal: The Cleansing of Humanity.

First, all Elimi-waiters must carry on their persons a small club to deliver blunt trauma directly to the terror-childs skull. Go for the temples, guys! Watch their nasty little heads burst beneath your righteous anger.

Secondly, learn to spot a terror-child by his demonic behavior and the subjugated look on his parents' pathetic faces. If a child is shoving his mother out of her seat so he can crawl over her face to leave the booth, kill that slimy mother fucker with your whacker.

Thirdly, fuck more rules. Kill those evil mother fuckers before they ruin the lives of hundreds of people.

Do you ever wonder if someone you know used to be one of these creatures?

Humanity's best interests in mind,
no, really,
Mk

On A Thought-Provoking Astronomy Thing

...it is the first visual photograph of another planet orbiting a distant star.

On His Majesty The Sovereign Goblin King

I am a mere peon in this cruel world of kings and thieves, but even I feel the loving embrace of our new ruler, Dwayne Michael Carter The Sovereign Goblin King. All subjects of his in the fantastical kingdom of Hip Hop kneel before his mighty lyrical super powers, knowing all too well the travesty that preceded his reign. Before The Goblin King had slain the Evil King-Sorcerers D4L and subsequently claimed the throne, the land was enveloped in an evil fog of remorse and melancholy. The annual harvest every year produced nothing but the bare essentials for survival, and pestilence took the lives of many simple peons such as myself.


But we must let go of the past if we are to move on, as The Goblin King has been keen to suggest. With his steady mind and firm hand, he has shaped this kingdom into a state of utopia pure and innocent, free of hate and despair. With his masterful beats and steady, commanding voice he guides us into the Grand Soul of All. It is to him we owe our absolute fealty for he is the man that has shown us God.
The future will find the rest of humanity in his warm grasp. The timing is uncertain, but it is inevitable. The light of Tha Carter II has shown us a glimpse of something we can't ignore. Listen to your inner voice, humanity, for it rhymes of money and pride.

All Hail Lord Weezy,
Mk

On The Mysterious World Of Our Emotions

Everyday I wake up and I asses my situation. My nose is stuffed up. My eyes feel puffy. I've drooled on my pillow and a fresh air of cat piss permeates the air in my bedroom. I sit up, determine whether or not it is masturbation time, and decide it is indeed. After I've accomplished this ritual of waking, I consider how I feel as the previous day's happenings rise into the bubble of consciousness. Sometimes it comes on slowly, like yesterday had been relatively uneventful by memory's standards. Sometimes it hits me hard like a sack of year-old cat shit and I gasp at the recollection of the awful day that passed.

I'm a sensitive person. Throughout my years my emotions have gotten me into trouble. Generally, emotions are harmless to persons outside your head but the past few years have proven that your feelings are really a double edged sword that others can and will defend against vehemently until one of you is dead. Dead emotionally, anyhow. In fact, I don't think the average person is equipped to handle another's feelings at all. It seems to me that unfamiliar sentiments tend to scare those with less emotional wherewithal. And we all know what fear leads to. Anger, hate, and the dark side.

This all baffles me. One of our most evolved traits as mammals is our advanced emotions. We shouldn't fear them, we should embrace them. A billion years of evolution has brought us to this point for a reason, damnit.

Retrospectively finding this entry retarded,
Mk

On His Assimilation Into Society

3 and a half years of ambitious career-building at Albertsons/HEB has recently come to an end. It just goes to show you, the average person doesn't come down with a contagious illness three times a month. I didn't figure this out until I was called back into work at 11 am, 4 hours after I would normally have gotten off of work. You know, If I hadn't been sick again. (It was a terrible Autumn for alleged nausea and explosive diarrhea). My manager and I had a friendly chat in which he fired me. Oh shit, I thought. I've never been fired. Since when was being a pathological hypochondriac a crime?

What followed was me getting adjusted to daylight, rush-hour traffic, and homo-sapiens. I had a month and a half of incredibly dilligent job searching. But as misfortune would have it, none of the twelve applications I turned in granted me an interview. Eventually operation "Sean Saves Unemployeed Mk" was put into motion, its execution found me serving as a waiter at Red Lobster.

Going from a hermit over-night grocery stalker tobeing thrust in the middle of humanity proved difficult, as I had expected. But what I didn't anticipate was how many bricks I'd shit in the process. I've wanted to punch customers in the throat and rip out their larnyx for transgressions against my character at least a few times already.

So yeah. I find society a little dense for someone as vaporous and as free-spirited as myself. I feel like an angel descended from the perpetual peace of silence and complete alienation into the maw of the clamoring, multi-headed beast that is society. Its both frightening and funny and relieving all at once. Things happen and I witness them. Its almost too much to bear.

I'd missed ya, humanity. You're like a bad cat who pisses in corners just to spite you. Meowing late at night and early in the morning just because you want to eat grass. Biting me for no real reason. But damn, kid. You got spunk.

Now please start returning my calls,
Mk

On Sharing My Thoughts With The World

It was a day like any other of the same year. I was fifteen, crazy, and eager to share my innermost feelings with the world. The internet had potential to be a safe haven from the scary, remorseless world I had no choice but to live in. Chat rooms dedicated to discussing the finer attributes of Sonic the Hedgehog had turned out to be nothing but creepy fuck smut but I knew I could find respite somewhere in this system of tubes, wires, and beeping modems.

That was the day I discovered Open Diary. I cataloged over a thousand entries into that particular journal, almost recording the entirety of my teenage years in a single location. But life eventually got to me, as it always does eventually, and I realized that nobody gave a fuck, and neither did I. My entries became self-loathing, misanthropic, and damn near apocalyptic. Upon reflection, the diary could appear as an origins story for the newest Batman villain. So yeah, I was disturbed.




My writing all but ceased the past few years. I scattered blogs about the internet willy-nilly, their contents as chaotic and confusing as the years that followed. I had once been sure of my place in the world, but numerous failed relationships, an especially disturbing one-night stand, and my diminished place in society took their toll on me. I no longer knew what anything meant anymore. Or if anything had meaning at all. I didn't even have the energy to be angry.

I am now a shell of a person.

But if anything's worth writing its one man's attempt to discover his soul, right? I sure hope so, because I'm fucking writing it anyway.

Always uncomfortably personal,
Mk