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The spiraling insanity crept up my spine like the initial buzz from smoking salvia. The sheer paralysis leading me to shut off the outside world, building an invisible wall. The only cure in sight is drinking into oblivion. Oh sweet oblivion. The point of not caring is a place I like to visit, nay, reside. The sweet fog rolls over and covers any emotions.

We always wanted our own piece, our own counterculture. Some way to tell the mass public “Fuck you.� Not wanting to settle down into the white picket fence, 3.5 member household. I sit here in front of the computer attempting to zone out, while the girlfriend's kid is rambling incessantly about some bullshit pop-culture reference that I could give 2 shits less about. Sorry, bud, but FUCK Darth Vader. Have we become the things that we despised the thought of? How did it get this way? Who or what is to blame for this?

I remember back a little over 10 years ago, wanting to do something creative with life. Wanting what other generations had. The bible was written by Hunter S Thompson and the soundtrack was various bands that no one else really listened to anymore. People will always remember the Stones, Beatles and Bowie, but what about the more obscure artists like Ten Years After, Son House, and Leo Kottke. Life seemed like it was perfect. Get home from school, jam on guitar with your friends while listening to your parents' records. Then the proverbial shit hit the fan.

Two numbers that evoke strong emotions from every supposed true blue-collared American. Our innocence was ripped away from us in the matter of minutes. The fear took a stranglehold on the American way of life. My one friend was picked up by his mom from school, she believed our high school in middle-of-fucking-nowhere Ohio was a potential target.

The following years were the media trying to install a new daily fear in everyone. The half-wit figurehead we had made Nixon look like a fucking Saint. Today is an orange day.

Hunter S Thompson was right to jump ship when he did, as it kept getting worse and worse. The economy tanked and instead of focusing on fixing it, we decided to outsource more jobs and spend more in our needless oversea wars. Then you get the funding that is supposed to help the needy people here. You get families of people who play the system to not work a day in their pathetic lives, getting the government to foot the bill for their oxy addiction, while the honest, decent people who've fallen on down times keep getting fucked by the system. Your eyes are now open to the sheer obscene state life has headed. Even if you wanted the white picket fence, you're not going to be able to afford it. But you keep your head up, trying to block out the media and the sheer bullshit around you. It gets harder and harder each day.

That dream of making enough money to get by doing something you enjoy is stripped away when you realize that it's unobtainable. Factory work starts looking good, cause it's better than dealing with the ignorant general public, with their opinions that they are right and you can kiss their ass if you don't agree. The misled sorry bastard lives in fear from the color of the day, takes his shitty life out on you because he believes his feeble mind knows everything. Factory work also looks good from the pay stand point. Fast food pays $8 an hour, factory work pays $11. So you make a jump in the direction of letting your dream go and joining the drones of the factory. You meet the other factory workers, you realize you're the only one that hasn't had a DUI or done time in prison. Maybe this is why the workers chose this. Maybe factory work is it's own counter-culture. You get your classic drunks who are anti-social while sober, your hardened criminals who have to be home to check in with their PO, people that normal society shun and look down upon. The dirty filth that isn't good enough to sit near them at a Denny's. The kind of people that you want to be.

Drinking and smoking of cigarettes are taboo. The two go great together. Nothing like getting off work and enjoying a cold flavorful beer and a smoke (an IPA goes great with a full flavor cigarette). In modern day America, you can be a complete dick to your girlfriend and make racist comments, go to a rehab clinic with a revolving door and normal society is supposed to forgive you, because you had a problem and now the problem is fixed. Fuck you, you're a dick, that's all it is. Your dick ways come out more when you drink, but you're still a dick and the only way to change that is a lobotomy with a jackhammer.

I'm sorry, I veered away from what I was going with. Cigarettes. 1920's you saw them in every movie. You looked cool with one dangling from your mouth in the 50's. Modern day, you're rounded up like cattle in to small pens, bearing the elements to enjoy something you know is deadly. It's illegal to smoke inside public places, such as bars. If you know you're going to an area where people smoke, and the smoke bothers you, don't go. Don't force the smokers to be rounded up like the victims of the Nazi regime. Forcing people to quit because it's becoming too expensive with all the taxes that are imposed on the products. Taking money from the smokers and drinkers to fix your country's budget by taxing the shit out of them. That sounds like a brilliant plan. Next we'll start taxing people with visible tattoos for being deviants. Then we'll tax children who run around, because they're breathing too much of our oxygen. Himmler would be happy about this.

So how do we get back to being true Americans with hopes and dreams? Do we fuck a stuffed animal while choking ourselves with an American flag? Only do this if you know the flag and stuffed animal are manufactured in America. Do we ride into D.C. and decapitate all the politicians that we elected to speak for us? Speaking for us isn't lining your pockets while making it a struggle to survive in daily situations. I don't have any answers as of right now.

I'm drawn back constantly to a plaque my friend's father had handing above his door, “Work is the curse of the drinking man. -W.C. Fields� We should just all brew our own beer and make it in the styles we want. The government will have a hell of a time taxing us then. The fact that I have an Imperial Simcoe IPA fermenting right now excites me.

I remember about 4 to 5 years ago, my brother-fromanother-mother called me. I was bored out of my mind when he called. We started discussing about how people of our generation are being shafted by the man. Well the young man ain't got nothing in the world these days. You're led to believe that you go down the “path�, graduate high school, graduate college, and get a good job. Then you get married, have kids, retire and die. It's like a vicious circle that keeps dragging the young man down. We start off the adult life with nothing and have to build up from nothing. I've had lots of setbacks in my life, so I'm experienced with starting off with nothing. There are some lesser men who would snap and marine crawl to the top of the grassy knoll. Starting off with nothing, The Young Man has all these dreams and desires in life. For me, it's getting a decent guitar and a nice cruiser motorcycle. I know I'll never be able to afford my dream bike (a vintage Indian Chief), so with the 'having nothing factor' hanging over my head, I'll most likely have to deal with having a mid 70's P.O.S. rusty Japanese bike that I'll have to fix weekly. And for the guitar, it'll most likely be a Budget brand's budget brand made in Korindochina by 3-year-old children using tooth picks for the body and aluminum foil for the pickups.

You'll never succeed in life. You shouldn't try to be on top of everything, because if you weren't born into money and you didn't follow the "path", you'll never be on top. You'll only be good enough to survive daily, wondering if this is the night you're going to drink yourself into a coma or if it's going to be tomorrow. I don't know if we're set up for failure as soon as we start our adult life, or if it just kind of happens. Either way, there's nothing like that empty feeling that you're never going to amount to anything except someone in debt sleeping in your friend's basement.

It seems like the only way to escape this empty, hollow feeling of nothingness, is the experiment with drugs and alcohol. The only reason the DEA and ATF exist are the ruin the only escape from reality. Fucking pigs. Salvia is not a harmful drug and does not give you the urge to kill, like they claimed in Ohio when they made it illegal. Supposedly there was some retard who shot his friend and claimed he was on salvia so he could be in less trouble. Bull shit. If you really smoked salvia, you'd be too shaky to even stand up, let alone go and find the gun, then hold it steadily and pull the trigger. For shit's sake, you'll probably be too far enthralled with the cartoon camel you're visualizing to even notice your friend is there. That camel that tries to coax you down the dirt road next to the railroad tracks right before every thought you've ever had in your life comes flying in a collision all at once in your mind. Then that inevitable fear hits. Oh shit, you think. I'm going to stay like this forever, being institutionalized and having big burly women wiping your ass for the rest of your life. Then silence. Reality kicks back in and you realize how shitty the world is, so you start drinking.

How did this get so bad? Why can't we go back to childhood where there were no worries at all, and the only bills you had were paid by your parents. Is it that the world's always been bad, but we were just having too much fun and no responsibilities that we didn't notice how shitty it was? Is it the greed of the politicians that makes it a struggle to live? Is it just human nature? For fuck's sake why Star Wars, George Lucas? You cock monger. I hope you get maimed by a bat shit crazy fucker who chants your name while flinging his feces around his basement, listening to Little River Band's Greatest Hits played backward. Nothing personal, it's more of if I hear 'light saber', 'General Grevious' or 'Darth Maul' one more time, I'm heading to the basement with my record player.

You realize you're the captain of a sinking ship. The wall of insanity of is being built around you, brick by brick by agonizing fucking brick. But you're powerless to stop it, not really sure why it's being built, not sure how to stop it.

You think back to that time where it was just you and your dad, sitting in his truck, listening to Dark Side of the Moon, over and over. There were no words said. Everything inside the truck was peaceful and serene, but the outside world was a spinning black abyss. It was like the eye of some sort of twisted hurricane called life. I always knew the plan. Off myself if I make it 50. Right now, the 27 club is looking good, joining the ranks of Brian Jones, Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix, and Robert Johnson. There's a loneliness about 26 where you feel isolated, all your friends now have their lives and it's hard to connect with them. I remember seeing an interview with Axl Rose where he said 26 was the hardest year. Although I don't like his king shit of fuck mountain attitude sometimes, I do have to agree with him.

There have recently been a string of bizarre attacks & incidents where it raises the question about zombies. There was the Florida attack where a 'thing' ate some homeless guy's face until cops shot him. The media claimed it was because the crazed person was on 'bath salts' (later found out the only drugs in the guys system was weed). This is complete and utter bull shit. Whether zombies exist or not is not up for discussion. Zombies are real. We're all zombies. We wander aimlessly thought out our lives, living in fear that the media has placed there. The only ones who recognize this are called weird or insane, but are we really insane? You're alone in the woods, it's dark, and you're afraid you're going to be attacked by something or someone because that's what the media has done to us. The 'crazy' or 'weird fuckers' would be at peace in the same scenario. We wouldn't be freak out by the rustling of the leaves in the wind, or the movement in grass by some animal. We would embrace it, knowing that this is nature, it's around us we're merely travelers in it's presence.

To Be Continued .......

Night Janitors is a collaborative project by individuals based in Columbus, Ohio. You are free to copy, transmit and distribute as long as: -You attribute work to Night Janitors -You DO NOT alter and text or artwork

Contact: Copyright Š 2012

American Dream part one  

Strange and weird ramblings of a strange time

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