Thursday, April 12, 2007

It's been nearly a year since I've written to you. Nothing of any real importance has happened to me in the past year. My life seems to have entered some kind of weird buddhist loop where I just keep living the same stupid events over and over. Getting drunk, taking pills, buying more shit I don't need, going on dates with horrible people, etc. I still feel alone. I still feel contempt for almost every other living person. I still wish I had a real Shakie Wilcox kitty, or something else that I could cuddle with while I watch blu-ray movies on my Playstation 3 and LCD HDTV. I still live in Connecticut, but work in Manhattan. I've worked at a couple different agencies over the past year. Everyone in New York is such a fucking asshole. But I guess you could say the same about Connecticut.

I went to the gym the other night. I've been trying to get into a schedule where I go to the gym directly from the train station, before I go home. There was an extraordinary number of douchebags there. More than usual, it seemed. I keep having all these stupid fantasies about the gym, that I think about when I'm doing my cardio workout. And they're not the normal fantasies most dudes have when they're at the gym, like ones involving the sweaty girl next to me, and maybe the slightly less-cute one next to her that I'm trying to secretly look at through a series of mirrors on the gym walls. No, not fantasies like that. It's more like I've kind of felt I want to try to get into a fight or something. Just let some meathead beat the shit out of me in front of all these hot girls, like some kind of smartass nerd-martyr. Here's my fantasy from the other night, inspired by some of the usual characters I see at the gym, in detail:

I pull into a parking space far away from the gym, next to a Cadillac Escalade SUV that's slightly over the line on my side. I open my door, slamming it as hard as I can into the Escalade, leaving a noticeable dent. The alarm goes off, so I pull out of the parking spot and find another one on the other side of the lot. No one sees me. I go into the gym and set my iPod Nano to "gym bro siqq mix." I start doing my weights, trying my hardest but ultimately not reaching my goals because I'm weak. This jacked asshole on the opposite side of the machine from me keeps slamming the weights at the end of his sets. I really hate when people do that. It's horrible gym-ettiquete. And he keeps doing it. Across the gym I hear this blonde girl laughing hysterically every two seconds. She's talking to this black dude who I guess is really funny. She keeps laughing, filling the enormous gym with the sound of her ridiculous laughter. I swear, she does this every time I'm there. She has the loudest laugher I've ever heard. So, she's laughing, the moron next to me keeps dropping the weights on the machine loudly, the music playing loudly on the gym's speakers is Aqua's "Barbie Girl" (I can still hear it over my headphones) and I feel like I'm about to LOSE MY FUCKING MIND. I start laughing as I walk past the weight-slamming dude. I puff my chest out and tilt my head back, my arms flexed in front of me, walking really close to him, getting all in his way. He pretends to ignore me, then does another set. SO STRONG! He's wearing a super tiny tank-top and a gold chain (you gotta have the chain brah). Of course he slams the weights loudly when he's done. And I can STILL hear that blonde moron laughing in the background. I make a lound grunt and stare at the guy. "UNNNHH!" He wipes his brow and takes a few steps towards me. "Hey guy, you mind givin me some room?" he asks me, loudly. I respond with a serious of grunts, flexing my arms and kissing my biceps. I stare at him and speak obnoxiously: "Nah. Guy." I then brush by him, walking slowly, puffing my chest out again. The weight machine (triceps pull-down) behind him is unoccupied, so i use it, setting the weight at 40 pounds and grunting and slamming the weights and being a fucking jerk. "UNNNGGGHH. YEAH! PUSH IT! THIS IS MY HOUSE BABY! NOBODY TOUGHER!" I scream, as I pretend to struggle with the weight (I'm not really pretending). The meathead comes up from behind, and taps me on the shoulder, hard. "You. Get the fuck out of here. Now." I slam the weights down, and turn around, taking in my surroundings. People are starting to stare, a few girls are giggling (one of them is pretty fat), and this dude in front of me is all red in the face and pissed off. I puff out my chest and put my hands on my hips. "No. YOU get out of here. FAGGOT!" Before I can gauge his reaction, I feel his fist in my face, and can feel something breaking. I fall to the ground, blood pouring out of my nose. I start laughing, and look around for a weapon within arm's reach. Luckily, there's an extra tricep pulldown rope on the floor, carelessly left there by some asshole. I quickly reach it and grab it, and swing it up as hard as I can, right into my attacker's groin. He lets out a loud yelp and steps backwards, allowing me to get back on my feet. "OHHH SHIT! I just hit you in the BALLS SON!" I scream, blood pouring from my nose. The dude is clutching his groin, and there is a crowd of people gathering. I can see personal trainers and gym employees starting to run towards us. I start swinging the tricep rope wildly above my head. "Motherfuckers get back! Check yourself!" One of the personal trainers comes at me and tries to grab me, so I clock him in his face with my mighty rope. Another sweaty meathead with a tanktop grabs me from behind, so I swing the rope backwards, hitting him hard in the ear. He releases me, and I close my eyes and lunge forward, swinging blindly and wildly and laughing like a goddamn maniac. Another gym employee, this douchey-looking guy who I kind of hate, just because, rushes me and tries to punch me. I deliver a powerful kick in his gut, rendering him a quivering pile of gym employee asshole. I tell you, I have become an unstoppable force, droppin many suckas as they try to disarm me. Women are screaming, I'm laughing, people are scrambling all over the place, some people are running towards the gym's exits, and more men are trying to attack me from all sides. I'm swinging my rope all over the place, clockin dudes in they heads, bringin them to their KNEES, spitting blood all over the place. One woman begs me to stop and I HISS at her. The meathead that started it all seems to have disappeared, until suddenly I find myself in a headlock, trapped in his enormous arms. He's holding me back, and some other bro starts punching me in the stomach, as I laugh and try to wriggle free, to no avail. Then the master meathead throws me down to the ground, and kicks me in the kidneys. After that, they all swarm me. Personal trainers, fat girls, scary muscular black dudes...all manner of gym clientele. It's like a pack of hyenas, ripping apart a gazelle or something. People are kicking me, punching me, spitting on me. I open my eyes and all I can see is blood. I feel things breaking. I feel like I'm turning to liquid. I feel my brains being squashed out of me. I feel my

By this time, I realize I had done an extra seventeen minutes of cardio. I suddenly came to, realizing where I was and what I was doing. I seemed twice as sweaty as I usually was after my cardio workout. I stepped off of the machine and walked, wobbly and exhausted, to the locker room, glaring at all those around me. The entire cast of characters was there. The annoying blonde, that douchebag slamming the weights, and some fat ladies. I sighed and called it a night. Fantasizing about baiting them into murdering me was pretty exhausting. But I'm beginning to think that my weirdo fantasies might be the best workout motivator ever.

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