Putting the ADD in Addiction

Seven hundred and thirty-five tortillas descending on you from the sky at the same time. What’s your move, cocksucker? I won’t say much, but I will say running is a bad move because they will trip you up. Remaining in place is much better than running. I’ve seen people run. Trust me, I’ve seen people run. It’s not pretty.

Running. What a dumb idea. Running from your problems, running late, just running… why would you ever do any of that? I have a problem now, where… well, I’m not sure if it’s a problem. It’s not a problem. But I do this thing where whenever I see someone running I can’t help but laugh. The serious look of determination just gets me every time. They really think they’re getting somewhere. But they’re running in a circle. They’re always running in a circle. They start from a given point, run one way, and then run back to the point they started at. What in God’s green grace is going on here? Why would anyone do this?

“Well, I’m trying to improve myself.”

Are those two different people? Who is that’s doing the improving and who is that’s being improved? Oh, it’s the same piece of shit? Piece of shit is going to improve piece of shit by brute force? Yeah, good luck with that, Connor. You piece of shit.

Boy I’m real spicy today. Too much mango habanero sauce on my rice last night apparently. That stuff is so good. It’s not as good as the pineapple ginger sauce, but it’s pretty dang good. I fucking hate this café. This place has the worst lighting in all of the Western hemisphere, I swear. They don’t even have lights. There’s just a giant window, and if it’s sunny it’s too hot in here and if it’s not then it’s just a straight up drag of misery pervading the whole godforsaken scene.

Why do you go there, then? Huh, Mr. Billycream? Why would you take yourself to a place you despise? I’ve got answers. Boy, do I have answers. Answer number one: it’s within walking distance of my dwelling. I can wake up, and I can walk to this café, and that’s a nice luxury. Secondly, and this is the most important… they have Gatorade on tap. Yeah. I know. Crazy. Sparkling Glacier Freeze Gatorade on tap. ON TAP.

I much prefer the other café that’s within walking distance, but this one has Gatorade on tap. Considering I completely lose my mind if I drink caffeine, this is a critical sticking point as to why I keep showing up at this hammertoe hellhole. The other café is actually perfect in every way except for the fact they don’t have Gatorade on tap. They don’t have many caffeine-free options, so for a paperback piss boy like myself that leads me to this place sometimes.

I recently discovered I’ve been addicted to something for the past 13 years. What is that I’ve been addicted to, you ask? I don’t know. Anything. It’s always something. After feeling like such massive ass for so long, I sought to feel good. So, I’ve gravitated towards things that make me feel good, but there’s a great pain which remains behind the curtains of pleasure. What a conundrum we face. We take great pleasure in our pain and find such pain in our pleasures.

So, what? What are we supposed to do? What the hell, man!? I like pleasure, and I revel in my pain. You’re telling me… you’re telling me I’m just supposed to sit around and never touch my clit or dick again? Just disregard pleasure? What? What in the name of ladled gravy are you even espousing here, numb nuts?

I uh… I don’t know. There shall be no espousing here! Forgive me father, for I have espoused! Ah, nothing but nonsense yet again! I suppose the answer is the same as it ever was. Awareness. Oh, sweet awareness, how you never fail a fractured soul. This chick just fucking ran to the café. What the hell? Spare me.

Hairless bear tits. What? Who said that? Spontaneity got the best of me yet again. Where was I? I can’t stand myself right now. Jesus. I’ll trudge on but I want you to know I don’t like any of this. Awareness! Ah, yes. If we are simply aware of the pleasure in our pain and the pain in our pleasure, this can help us not fall so victim to its powerful spell.

A dangerous dichotomy, yes. If we’re always swaying between pain and pleasure we become unstable. We’re like a swing with a loose screw, and that shit is dangerous to ride. You might go flying off the Ferris wheel at any moment. Ferris wheel? How did that get in there? Someone just ordered an avocado chai at the café. What the fuck? What is this place? I might take a piss in the cold brew, this is ridiculous.

I’m legitimately insufferable right now. I should keep my interactions to a minimum for the morning. So if we’re aware of our addiction to pleasure and pain, we can loosen the reigns on this wicked horse which drives us insane. How was that? Was that good writing? Do you love me yet? Where’s my book deal, Penguin?

I totally forgot I wrote this entire book. I might want to get it published because I have no money left, but I also don’t care even a little bit, so… yeah. I think it still needs some work. It will be ready when it’s ready. I’ve got plenty of rice at home.

Welcome to Attention Deficit Disorder, volume 6! Today we’ve got a heavy dose of what the fuck is going on, sponsored by Kenny’s Kombucha. Kenny’s Kombucha. Always wet. Always disgusting. Try our newest flavor, spinach piss hole! Packed with 8 and a half billion probiotics and seven grams of liquid garbage, you’ll be sure to shit yourself by midnight!

I’ve accepted this post will probably not be useful. Small talk drives me crazy, sometimes. Like, I get it. We have to sniff each other’s butts. Do the little human to human dance. Like, “hey! You’re not gonna kill me are you? If I ask you about the weather, this will comfort me in knowing that you’re not here to kill me. This makes sense, because if you were her to kill me you wouldn’t be able to talk about the weather. All you’d want to talk about is how much you want to kill me!”

I feel like people are way too concerned with murder. Who even gets murdered anymore? And why would anyone murder you? I mean, the audacity! To think so highly of yourself that someone would want to kill you… Jesus. Get a hold of yourself, bum tard. I gotta pee so bad. This Gatorade is going straight through me.

Seriously, though. Our country is so fixated on death and murder, it’s crazy. Every movie and TV show is based around murder. They don’t even have plots anymore. The plot is just that somebody got murdered, is getting murdered, or is going to get murdered. I know that’s technically a plot, but if it’s always the plot then it kind of sort of isn’t really a plot anymore, is it? It’s not an interesting one, I can tell you that.

At least it’s not interesting to me, because it’s so obvious that every form of cinema is about murder. It’s still interesting to other people because they’re not even aware of this. I’ll point it out and people will be like huh, I never really noticed that. What in the sheet of metal? Does nobody notice anything? This is crazy. Nobody notices anything anymore? That’s what we’re doing? That’s the game we’re playing? We’re just gonna zombie around and not notice anything?

Headphones in, head down, seven seconds in fantasy land. Rinse, repeat. This is life, now. I don’t know what’s going on and I don’t want to because I have no faith or fortitude. Disgusting. I’m disgusted.

- Butternut Billycream

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