get too comfortable.

she always warned me about getting "too comfortable," and i didn't know what the hell she was going on about. and then she went away, got an advanced degree, got a job somewhere, and that was that. some warning.

i know what it means to be comfortable, though. being comfortable means having a big bed that i get to sleep in, a big tv to watch downloaded pirated shows. it means showing up late to work and leaving early, playing on the computer all day, getting paid a decent wage and having no actual responsibility. tomorrow will be much of the same. spoiled is what i am.

i watched chris of the silversun pickups thrash his head around while the big screen behind him absorbed all the different colors projected by the lights above. i watched him, and i thought of the video game rock band. i thought about how his was just a job like any other, playing the same songs every night, touring city after city, but not really getting a feel for what it's like to actually be somewhere. just hitting those drums and giving the people what they want. yeah, being a rock star, it's probably not all that different from having a desk job.

i told this girl liz what i did, best i could. she said what everyone says, "oh, that's cool," and nodded, even though she didn't really understand my response. hell, how could she? even i don't know what i do. i'm comfortable, remember? she was shorter than i was, big glasses, blonde hair, the strap of her messenger bag going right down her middle, accentuating her bust line. she told me she hadn't been to europe, and we had something in common. i told her about the philippines, restaurants, and cheap massages. she repeated massages and made air quotes when she did, and that made me like her.

in the eighth grade, i sprinted better than anybody else on the b team. i wore all black to practice, and i remember some of my teammates saying, "he's gonna beat cavner!" and they were referring to this a.d.d. kid matt, who was the skinniest, fastest guy on the team. i remember doing those sprints, and even though my sides ached, my legs were ready to give out, and i could barely breathe, i remember what it was to push through all that because it was self-hatred that kept me going.

i crossed the parking lot to get to southcenter mall on a saturday afternoon, and it was the new religion. i passed champs, pacsun, zumiez by myself, knowing that i was looking to buy something, anything, in order to fill the spiritual (or whatever) void. i don't even remember when i stopped praying. there wasn't an actual moment or anything, never a conscious decision made. it was just like forgetting to water a plant. and then i walked past a church, some place on my street, and there were all these ethiopians (maybe) all dressed in white, clapping and singing one of the most beautiful songs i've ever heard. if a cult or religion wanted to recruit me, now would be the time to do it. i don't think i've ever been more vulnerable.

i wish i was driving right now, some part of the south where i could see old barns and long stretches of dead grass. it shouldn't have taken me twenty-six years on earth before i saw fireflies. that's just unacceptable. there's a whole world out there, pulsating, sweating, bleeding and screaming, and i can't even bring myself to leave the apartment some days. there's never ever going to be an electronic sign again that reads: jul 28 2010 5:26 p.m.

people are always going on and on about something, and they never give me a chance to talk. all i can ever say is, "uh huh," "yeah," and "really?"

i've always been asked about and/or criticized for being so quiet. how else am i supposed to be? my whole life, i've barely been able to get a word in edgewise.

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