all of the kids had guns

I was such a nice kid. I wonder when I turned into such a bitter bastard. I suppose that it was slow and gradual evolution leading me to here (yeah, it's that fuckin great).

I got my hands on a Daisy air rifle last night. I hadn't held one in at least seven years. It had the plastic stock and metal barrel that I remember. I pumped it up a few times and took steady aim. I've still got it. It made me recall the hours I spent walking through the woods with my friend Matt killing small animals. That sounds fucked up to someone who grew up in a suburb or city and spent their childhood kicking a ball against a wall, but I grew up in an area out of town, surrounded by acres and miles of wooded wilderness.

All of the kids had guns.

Everyday we'd shoot cans. And if there weren't cans, we'd shoot empty beer bottles. And if we didn't shoot empty beer bottles, we'd shoot chipmunks. And if we didn't shoot chipmunks, we'd shoot birds. And if we didn't shoot birds, we'd shoot squirrels. Sometimes we shot each other.

By estimate I have at least 50 confirmed kills.

I remember one summer afternoon killing five or six chipmunks and a couple of birds. I went home and cried and said to myself "I can't keep doing this...." I was 11 years old.

---

So, anyways, I continue to deal with insomnia and wake up nightly for a half hour around 3:30 am. I know what the problem is, and it causes me anxiety. The kind that itches on the inside and doesn't leave until you occupy yourself with some other thought or activity. It's a problem that hasn't gone away and I wish that it would because it's unresolved, it's fucked up and there's nothing I can do about it besides let go. It's caused nightly dreams that wake me to a reality that I wish I could change or have some sort of control over, but I don't. I don't want to be an angry 30 year old, but I kind of am. And it's making me occasionally mean spirited, disjointed and a dick. I should be openly curious and exploring, not burdened. It's my nature.

---

I found a great haiku online by a guy named Michael Mulder entitled:

Seven Haiku at Night in a Convenience Store
1
Gimme some fuckin'
Kool Filter Kings, you white punk.
And some damn matches.

2
Can I use your phone?
It's local. I'll hurry. Well,
why not, stupid-shit?

3
Hell, I be killin'
some white mutherfucker a
cuse me a stealin'.

4
Is that a bathroom?
No? Please, I really have to
bad. Oh, please. Let me.

5
Oh, my God, what time
is it? What city is this?
Where is my boyfriend?

6
Just fuck you and your
ugly white whore boss-lady
in the fuckin' ass.

7
Oh, my God, I am
so drunk. I am just so drunk.
I mean, I'm just drunk.

fucking brilliant.