Why I Admire Those That Live Horrific Lives

My father once complained to me about my choice of music when I was decades younger. Guns N Roses was still around and surviving the Use Your Illusion era. Axl hadn’t completely pissed off everyone. I was frustrated in my own life, knowing that I was often losing personal battle after battle. I couldn’t seem to win with certain people.

Music was something that I seemed to dip into when I was trying to bridge gaps between dumb experiences. I didn’t space our or escape. But music was sure as shit better than whatever suckass experiences we seemed to get into.

Yeah, my parents would take away my music as a punishment. They seemed to hate everything I had. It didn’t matter if it was as tame as Aerosmith, “misogynistic” as anything connected to Axl Rose, or the ultimate menace to any decent Christian; Snoop Dee-oh-double gee. The last mention was destroyed in front of my eyes. Many interesting famous people from my upbringing worth mentioning here.

I grew up from a fairly decent kid to the sarcastic, seldom serious broken dude you know today. Contrary to what I thought I would have been at 18, I am a regretfully sober animal. (A part of me had reckoned with the fact that I would have been a professional alcoholic at this age, giving up what everyone else had done easier in life for a ass backwards monk like existence).

Getting back to those that live horrific lives; I truly admired some of those people. They do some shady things and end up with shady things happening to them. They have a string of failed relationships, assaults putting them into a hospital, mental problems, and injuries. One of the coolest dudes I remember from the 90s; Robert “R. Kelly” Kelly is an uber predator. Axl Rose didn’t end up with Stephanie Seymour, who put my heart aflutter. Axl instead injected a horse he had been killing for years (Guns N Roses) with a bizarre cocktail of bs, trying ride the dying torpedo back into a puddle of fame. Layne Staley ended up destroying his body.

You would ask why I admire that kind of sick maelstrom. I have been haunted by horrific nightmares for a long time that mirror some shit like the above. People chasing me, trying to kill me, often a faceless woman. I had one nightmare that I was the last sober person in my old hometown, everyone else was hooked on some wild inhalable drug that made everyone super horny. A chick that I had bad interactions with years ago was a dying skeleton of a woman, yeah she f*cked me like I was getting deported. But she was physically rotting in front of my face. I still have the common nightmares about people tracking me down. I end up losing sleep and clearing my domicile, like I was back on the ship. One time I snapped out of it and found out that I was armed to the teeth in my backyard. I woke up in tears after having nightmares about little kids stabbing me and laughing about it. I still have a “giving into heroin” nightmare, where I just tell my family to “f*ck off” and stop caring about anything.

(All of this is like Gun N Roses Don’t Cry video, except for more violence, illicit sex, and time travel).

I would love to go to sleep knowing that I didn’t have to be saddled with bad shit when I slept. Plenty of brainless morons and psychopaths rest their heads not giving two shits. A recreational heroin user I knew back home would nod off in abandoned houses and buildings, usually no worse for wear minus bad weather and walking. Outside of prison, R Kelly doesn’t care about being a degenerate. Ozzy was a wild dude who can catch a decent nap with painkillers. I doubt that these guys have nightmares or stupid dreams.

I never have a Kurt Cobain moment. I think I have too many people that would piss on my grave to spite me if I did. But I still believe that this shit is killing me quicker than anything Motley Crue ever thought up. (Booze is medicine for certain drunks, but we don’t live in that type of society)

Yeah, I think scumbags have it better at times.

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3 Responses to Why I Admire Those That Live Horrific Lives

  1. Pingback: On Forgiveness (Red Pill Redemption 3) | okrahead

  2. Pingback: FreeMatt In Review: 9-5 to 9-9 | Mogadishu Matt

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