An Inhuman Condition

Live fast; die young.

I’m realizing there’s a definite stage of development for any former “rock and roll” youth type where one of two things happen: you grow up or fuck up. This division seems to happen anywhere between 18 and 25, but it always happens. It’s been odd on this side of things – seeing people wasting away working at Burger King, still sniffing glue, spending every dime getting hammered or worse. It’s sad. These were my peers growing up. We fucked off and got fucked up. We did some seriously stupid shit, and some of us got over it. Some of us didn’t live long enough to get over it.

People I saw in school have killed themselves literally and figuratively – killed themselves because the disappointment of coming down was something they couldn’t face. It’s very depressing. Knowing people who are strippers, hookers, pizza-shack employee drug dealers – how did this become the future? I mean, seriously, what is broken in these people that they couldn’t just adjust and move on? Booze and blow aren’t that good. They really aren’t worth everything.

At least once a month I hear about a meth-lab explosion somewhere in southwest Michigan. These are the fuck-up engineers. Their big entrepreneurial venture is to mix and cook poison in a jury-rigged chemical kitchen. They have to know that meth labs explode. They have to know that meth-heads will do pretty much anything for a fix. Whether that’s blowing you or blowing your head off is anybody’s guess. But that has to be their best option, right? I mean nobody is making the decision between law school and meth baker, right? Right?

I guess I could be a little more cynical (And yes, that’s possible). I could just write these people off as marginal fringe types who wouldn’t be doing anything amazing if it weren’t for this drug, that liquor or the next good fuck. I could do that, but it wouldn’t be fair. This is the first world; all you have to do is stay alive, try a little and you’re better off than 90% of the planet. I’ve seen so many bright, funny individuals who were maybe a little too awkward or goofy to fit in choose to bet everything on black and spin the wheel. Odds favor double zero; the crack house wins.