Get Off Yer Lazy Arse
Have you ever gotten into one of those sappy apathetic moods where everything is "poor me", "why me?", and just in the general "me" category? Of course you have. You’re young, you’re selfish, your entire being is flooded with a wave of angst. "Why doesn’t anyone like me?" "Why does nothing work out for me?" "Why am I always so bored?". We always have these down moments once in a while. It’s like there’s this giant wall of pathetic surrounding you and the ceiling is an enormous black hole or garbage shoot or some other device designed to suck and it sucks up all the creativity, leaving you to wallow in your own self pity, desperation, and rank odor of pathetic.
Well, I’m not going to give you a solution and I’m not going to complain about the annoying tendencies of those prone to this black hole. Oh no, because that would be just a bit too ironic for my tastes: I’m sitting at home, bored out of my mind, with a pessimistic twinkle in my eye as I write a short piece on how dumb self-proclaimed bored pessimistic people are. Instead, I would like to hand out some 5 cent advice (well, the zine’s supposed to cost a buck so I guess we sort of ripped you off!). My advice is as follows: Please stop writing stupid, melodramatic poetry about rejection and boredom. If you are so inclined to pick up a pencil and do some creative writing then write a fucking suicide note and do the world a freakin’ favor. The world could stand to lose some of that pathetic teenage drivel that we kiddies have seemed to master.
So get off your fucking arse and do something semi-productive, even if it means starting you own shitty zine! At least people pay to listen to me complain (yeah, I mean you!). I mean, think about it. Who am I to you? Maybe you happen to know me but chances are that you don’t, to you I’m probably just some name on a crappy article. But regardless, you probably have developed an opinion on my writing and my character: either I’m some dumb bitch tht complains too much, I’m some girl that has too much time on her hands and ink in her pen, or I’m a literary genius that should be heralded as a goddess (speaking of which, what’s with those stupid goddess bumper stickers. They’re like: "I’m a goddess, kiss my feet!". I’m gonna get a bumper sticker that says "I’m a bitch, kiss my fucking ass!). Back to the pointà (if ever there were one) despite whether you agree or disagree with my point of view, you at least have heard my point of view and perhaps, just perhaps, I have inspired you on some level, or maybe I’ve pissed you off just enough so that you want to get off yer lazy arse and prove me wrong. Either way, I’ve been heard and been part of this crazy cause and effect process and I hope maybe you will too, if not already. So, stop writing stupid teen-angst-ridden poetry, stop sipping herbal tea, stop trying to find someone to blame all of your problems on, and make a fucking difference…even if it mean pissing people off. Otherwise, gimme a fuckin’ shovel.
Rena
Go back to Bass Ackwards #4
