Angel.... Razors and the Dying Roses Plead (unbeating_heart) wrote,
@ 2003-02-03 18:34:00
Current mood: pissed off
Current music: Buffy playing "Fur Elise" on the piano behind me.
Limited Vision.
I thought I'd just write for a second. About something that lately has really just been pissing me off.
You know what I'm talking about.
Pop culture.
I mean..... okay. In the beginning, maybe, it was okay. Entertaining, even. It was an interesting diversion, kind of like seeing a TV-movie based on your life or someone you know. I could laugh at the acting, laugh at how nifty it was for them to have dialogue writers who made everything into quick-witted one-liners. I could enjoy the mildly lame CGI. But even then, even from the beginning, its amusement value has been corrputed by the fact that it has managed, in more ways than one, to MAKE MY LIFE A LIVING HELL.
More so than it already was, if that can be said to be possible.
Let's face it, okay? I was me long before pop culture became a 'staple'. And in the summer it's kind of okay; people forget, more or less, and I can live my life in VERY pleasant obscurity. Sure, there were people who knew. Just enough so that I HAD people to talk to -- even though PC doesn't get very much right at all, some of it at least tries to be accurate. I trained four days a week, worked out, studied my prophecy and my history and everything else, and I just...... I just was. I had Aeternum Inc.(Now Angel Investigations) to try and help people and I did it anyway in the simpler ways; I've sacrificed a lot just because it felt, to my heart, like it was the right thing to do.
And then..... TV starts its new season. Now..... I don't even have a TV. We had other expenses and we don't have cable; so we don't get even a single local channel. But mostly that's fine with me; we have two VCRs and I have a lot of other things to do that matter to me more. But I can ALWAYS tell when it's been PC night.
And this is how it lays out: imagine being told that you can't be who you are because "So- and so doesn't swear...." Imagine being told that you can't be who you are because of this-that-or-the-other reason. THINK about it for a minute. I got called a, what was it? A "wanna-be"..... by a fifteen-year-old who, if he had to see even the things I dream about for one night only, would drop dead of a heart-attack with his hair turned white. Who in their bloody fucking right mind would WANT to be me?
Please. TAKE my nightmares and my one-to-six-depending-on-my-luck hours of sleep. Take the giant, mostly unbearable weight of guilt away from me.... you can have it. Take the visions -- the fucking REAL ones -- that make me shudder and sob and scratch at my eyes. Take the collapsing from exhaustion, which I did this summer, because I can't stop doing what I do, no matter how tired, how sick, how bone-fucking-weary I am. How sad. How heartbroken. Take my feelings of responsibility for those I love. Take the pictures in my mind of dead children slaughtered like goats in a pen. TAKE the actual bloodlust that ACTUALLY exists and take the feeling of constantly walking a razor-thin tightrope between myself and my demon. Take WANTING to let him out so badly it makes me tremble. THAT's the only thing I've ever been selfish in..... considering that. Take the bruises and the injuries and the dehydration. Take the fear and the terror and the always-fucking-trying to even the balance just a little. TAKE knowing that something is coming, something that I and mine know is coming...... something that not only do I feel like I have to stop.... but something in which I'm going to lose not only myself but everyone I've ever dared to love. Take having started to lose them, already. Take seeing those things.... fields of bodies sinking into black earth. Holding a woman you love in your arms as her head rolls bonelessly back against your elbow and you put her in the ground. I saw a rain of fire six hours before Columbia broke apart and fell, all over Texas. Ask me if that was fun. I tried to call California at 3 a.m.. TAKE everything from me.
BE Angel.
Go ahead.
Good luck with that.
And not only all this...... but I get condemned and attacked and you know why? BECAUSE OF POP CULTURE. Because someone decided that it'd be great to make a whole fuckload of money by jacking up the ratings. Because people have no idea. Because, because, because. Do you KNOW how many teenage girls have said to me "Oooh, Angelus is so much sexier than Angel..... I love the bad boys and oooh, those leather pants." -sighs- Let's dramatize it. Let's make it look like PC 'characters' are Spiderman-worthy heroes so that MORE people can think I'm GETTING something out of simply EXISTING. Let's make Angelus into a sexy bad-ass and even change the title sequence because it looks. So. Much. Cooler. Let's romanticize it to the point where everybody wants to be me........ why the fuck NOT?
Hmmm?
Ever seen the movie "Don Juan DeMarco"? It actually makes some good points.
About limited vision.
I have to go, actually. I have to put a shirt on and in about fifteen minutes, I have to take my swollen knee(with the screws in it) and my injured shoulder to Tae Kwon Do...... forty-five miles from here. Like I have just about every other day for the last however long...... even with a broken foot, a broken rib, a fever.... what have you. I saw things in my dreams that I can't ignore. I feel that some things -- no matter how much some people reject them -- are right, and I can't change it. I have to call someone in New York and tell them these things..... because I can't afford to not be ready. Buffy is playing Fur Elise on the piano behind me and I am just about ready to cry.
I love you both.
I do.
Go back to the Original Page.
Email: the_black_fox@hotmail.com
