Reader Mailbag: No Way to Live

28 May


A friend writes:

I’m glad Nikol told you to stop smoking heroin. I couldn’t sleep all night because I had a lot of things to say to you–over and over in my head that I couldn’t say

You are being really self destructive. I want you to stop right now. Stop fucking dirty whores in low places. Stop smoking heroin. Stop sharing anything you put near your mouth with homeless people. Stop walking around skid row in your panties where you are just stupid easy prey. Stop spending your already little resources on any of these things.

Stop saturating yourself with darkness, ugliness, depravity. This is not a moral objection–it’s that–honestly- your energy is changing. There is a garbage in your aura—I can feel it. You don’t sparkle with invisible magnetic light. You emanate a corpse-like quality while sleeping. I love you and I’m not trying to be harsh. You need stimulation that is love. Go camping with me. Go to nature alone. Take Nikol’s kids to the fucking theater. Go look at art with me– it can surprise you. Darkness is fine and I certainly have my share–but it’s out if proportion now– when you exaggerated my voice of concern in that blog it was an invitation for me to tell you. For you to be accountable to some force somewhere that will insist that you just stop it. You don’t have much time– life will fly by. Don’t mark every moment with the beast.

Please tell me you hear me– even if you tell me to fuck off. I have always dreamed that someone might care about me enough to say these things when I hurt myself. No one ever has or at least has never been brave enough to try. It’s not easy to do–but I just won’t have it–OK? Stop dying inside. Right now.

I hear you, and you’re right.

This weekend seems like a good rock bottom. Failing to fuck and walking around skid row in faggoty boxer shorts waving money to get shitty Mexican smack. That sounds like a good stopping point. Because honestly what I was doing was trying to die.

In a way, I’m ashamed that my worst moment was so meek. Junkies and tough guys and drunks will always one up your story. Oh yeah, well I shot up while I was driving a school bus full of retarded kids on a mountain road with no barriers to a 10,000 foot drop and I had to get the smack by fighting a 700 pound Siberian to the death with a broken arm. I drank a handle and painted my Tercel to look like the General Lee and took it up a ramp into the window of the mayor’s office because fuck the law, man. I sold my kidneys to pay a Nigerian dwarf to shit on me dressed like my grandmother. OK. I am a pussy. My scary stories were: I had heterosexual sex in a suburban hotel with a prostitute who was probably pursuing an Associate’s Degree. And once I was near black people in order to purchase drugs.

But yeah, it’s time for a little light. Little more good and a little less evil. Get the cat his rabies shots, look for some jobs, spend some more time in the park with the birds. Chase less pussy. Drink less booze. But what do you fill the hours with. Writing would be great but nobody can do this shit like a full time job. Your mind just empties as soon as you sit at the keys. I am the greatest novelist the world has ever known when I’m sitting in traffic, when I’m in the shower. Ideas come fast, insightful ideas that will teach important lessons and make people feel less alone. I frantically try to scribble them down on a gum covered Von’s receipt while steering with my knees. There are piles of them, all chickenscratch. Then I get hours alone with my computer and my mind is empty. A fucking cinderblock wall.

What do you fill the hours with, if it isn’t booze, drugs, pussy, jerking off, work, religion. Most people’s answer is fucking World of Warcraft. Even people with kids just look at stupid shit on the internet all day. Even the pope probably spends half his time looking at porn. The human lifespan is far too long for any real portion of it to be spent doing something meaningful. Maybe less time alone but people can be fucking intolerable. Maybe a job but fucking come on, man. I got an interview tomorrow, some bullshit. One of these craigslist job posts that makes you jump through hoops like a hot girl’s OKCupid profile. Your subject heading should be the name of the winner of the Masters Tournament in 1986. We will only respond to inquiries that point out which word we have misspelled. I think you left out most of the letters in “cocksucker” right after “sincerely,” you pain in the ass cunt.

What do you fill the hours with. Being alone is horrible and being with people is horrible and the TV all sucks and there’s only so many times you can jerk off before you fucking scab over. You have about 20 minutes in a day, right after you belt down your first three drinks, to wake up a little. Start chewing over some problem you had as the booze ramps up and you think: hey man, that shit’s really gonna be OK. You have a smaller and smaller window between a little euphoria and losing all motor skills, burning the end of your nose with a lighter trying to fire up a cigarette butt, banging your head on the fucking overhead lamp. What architect put that fucking thing there. Fucking jerkoff.

All right, well, let’s find another way. I don’t know what the fuck it is but this ain’t it. Maybe salads or something.

21 Responses to “Reader Mailbag: No Way to Live”

  1. Fuck you pay me May 28, 2013 at 1:12 pm #

    Why the fuck are you responding to this horseshit, DT?
    What the FUCK happened to you?
    Fuck dude.
    Fuck off with this shit.

    • Anonymous May 28, 2013 at 7:34 pm #

      Everyone cheers at the Colosseum.

      And Rome fell.

  2. Rojo May 28, 2013 at 1:16 pm #

    Sounds like they’ve never tried heroin.

  3. Matt May 28, 2013 at 1:30 pm #

    You think you can’t move forward without giving up something you can’t live without. It’s true, except you can live just fine without most of what your yammering brain self insists you MUST CLING TO AT ANY COST.

    Hitting bottom is realizing which necessities are actually not just optional, but often actual lead weights around your neck.

    You could change your name and be a fry cook in Paducah. You could learn to build wooden boats. Run guns like Rimbaud. Move to Panama. Learn to be a diesel mechanic. Live first, then write. You’re a man with brains and youth and health. You can literally set a match to everything but that. You’re free. Your options are infinitely wider than the ones you’ve0 been trained to think are suitable for a man in your position. Buying smack in your underwear is the least of them, but at least it’s weird.

  4. Matt May 28, 2013 at 1:34 pm #

    Teach english in Southeast Asia. Join a circus. Just get the fuck out of LA.

  5. dressyarson May 28, 2013 at 1:54 pm #

    It sounds like this chick is about to show up with bag full of amethyst. God women are stupid.

  6. beadamnman May 28, 2013 at 2:20 pm #

    I’m glad you decided that you’ve hit rock bottom. For those of us who’ve been there, we know it’s not rock hard. It’s soft, like the bottom of a pond near the cattails. Now all you have to do is pick something to shoot for. Pick something inspiring and don’t over-think it. Don’t aim for perfection. You can always change course. Pick something that will get you out of bed tomorrow. (not your interview)
    BTW good luck with your job interview.

  7. Another Mary May 28, 2013 at 2:22 pm #

    Nothing like a good walk in the underworld to clear your head. Got it out of my system. It worked for me. Shake it off, DT.

  8. aneroidocean May 28, 2013 at 4:52 pm #

    Well, I’m going to look at this 100% selfishly. DT, if you keep doing heroin and don’t pick yourself up and fucking do something interesting, you’re not going to have much brain left to write interesting and funny shit like you have in the past, so fuck you and get off the smack.

  9. Celeste May 28, 2013 at 5:31 pm #

    Read books.

  10. Anonymous May 28, 2013 at 5:32 pm #

    Join the circus? You’re already the circus. That’s kind of why I’m reading you. And no, that’s not a compliment. Time to do something, DT. Been that time for a while now. A little more of this, and you might do just that – die.

  11. beadamnman May 28, 2013 at 6:05 pm #

    You better not fucking die you son of a bitch.

  12. Emily May 28, 2013 at 7:37 pm #

    It’s all gonna be ok.

  13. dust850 May 28, 2013 at 11:57 pm #

    u kinda have a small fan base around the world that needs you. u cant die yet,….do stand up comedy or something or start a youtube channel. do something

    • mindstar May 29, 2013 at 10:59 am #

      As Celeste said read books. Do volunteer work. Get a job of some type. It can suck but work gives structure to your day. Cut back on the booze even if only by a few drinks a day. Drive into the desert and just sit.

  14. Little Miss S May 29, 2013 at 1:09 pm #

    Do the stuff Emily told you to do (just guessing it was Emily, could be wrong) : camping, nature, hanging with Nikol’s kids, whom you seem close to, museums. Salads are good, too.

  15. not who you think it is May 29, 2013 at 11:21 pm #

    “The human race is faced with a cruel choice: work or daytime television.”

    Two years ago I had an epiphany while riding to work in the pink dawn. I thought, such a beautiful day, too bad I have to go to work, wish I could . . . what? Go to the beach, alone? Go to the mountains, alone? It might be fun for a day or two but it’s not a life. Man is supposed to be busy struggling to survive or we go mad like male elephants in the zoo. We’re not like cats that just eat and shit and stare into space during rare moments of wakefulness.

    Happiness is having a job you enjoy more than ethanol and amputee porn.

  16. nikolhasler May 30, 2013 at 7:14 am #

    Last night, Trast was being obnoxious and shoved a football down his pants so he could get his balls on it and make Ayden not want to touch it anymore. I said “Just because DT does certain things, it doesn’t mean anyone should do them. Ever. If you want to end up smoking heroin with a homeless person in your swim trunks in skid row when you’re in your late 30’s, keep it up.” He laughed. That high-pitched way he does.

    We miss you. Lets go hiking this weekend.


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