"Hey, Sweep, baby, want to go for a WALK?!"
“YAPYAPYAPYAPYAP...”
I love seeing her like this. She’s so great, so honest, so innocent, not jaded. It’s like this every day, the word “walk” just sends her spinning. I never get tired of her, she’s the only one who doesn’t worry that I don’t like living that rock-and-roll lifestyle like Ben does, or Chris occasionally does. I mean, those guys are great, we just aren’t the same. Ben and Chris do stuff together when we aren’t “silverchair”. I don’t. I just watch the telly, hire some pictures, and write. And take Sweep on walks.
The air outside is warm and soothing. It’s really nice today, and it makes me content. The one thing I can’t stand about myself is that I’m incredibly jaded. That’s what makes me love Sweep so much, she gets so much excitement, out of all the little things. We walk the mile down to the beach; it’s Sunday, and most people go watch the swimming, so the beach will be a bit deserted.
We hit the sand and I take my shoes off, and feel the warm sand on my feet. I love it here, walking on the sand, Sweep chasing after seagulls. It’s so great. But that doesn’t las too long.
“Hey, pansy! Hey, Todd, look who’s over there! It’s Pussy-boy!”
Oh god, here we go again.
“Hey, man, how’s it going?”
This guy, big, muscly, clearly a jock, slaps me hard on the back.
“Uh oh, Rye, better watch out, he may start crying and get his guitar out! HUHUHUHUHUHUHU...”
And so they go on.
“Hey, man, when was the last time you got laid? I think maybe that’s your problem. Come with us, I’ve go this cousin who’s a real Sheila, man! She’ll fix you up right away!”
“Oh, man, we can’t do that, Anna only fucks guys who FEEL, remember? Hey her names Anna, Danny-boy! You’ve fucked a chick named Anna, haven’t you?”
Yes, MAN, that’s what my music is about, fucking all the girls I get. I wrote songs solely for the purpose of getting girls. No, BUDDY, I don’t feel a thing. It’s HILARIOUS when you push me around and laugh at me. I LOVE it. I write music to have guys like you push me around day in and day out. How can I get out of this one?
"I have to walk my dog, leave me the fuck alone.” I hope that got them.
“Oh no, did you hear that? He said fuck! HUHUHU, the little puny-assed sook said ‘fuck’...”
I don’t stick around to hear more of this. Why do these people think that I don’t feel? I always have people think that, “Why don’t you show any emotion, Daniel?” or “Dan, I just don’t understand it, you are so smart and so in tune to what people think, why do you hate them so much? Why do you shut off?” Don’t they get it? I feel just like anyone. I get sad when animals die, I get angry when someone tells me what to do, I’m even happy. I just don’t express myself outwardly.
Why don’t people understand that I don’t write for them. I write for me. I tour for them, I do promo for them, and isn’t that enough? Why do they have to live inside my head, or the head they’ve created for me? I feel. I don’t understand why, when I suddenly have a record, people automatically assume that I have no real emotions what so ever. I like people, I do, I just like my dog much better. I don’t understand people. I don’t hate myself, I never have. I just couldn’t take people like these jocks or that little girl, thinking they know me or thinking they can say whatever they want to me because I’m some fucking robot. It just loses me. I don’t know anymore.
To Be Continued
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