Summer 2015: In Love with Love and Dog Biscuit Poetry Part 3

Winter best be coming because this has felt like one of the longest months. And then there is jury duty to kick off the next one, so frankly, I may just be too bleak to write.

Which kind of heartbreak hurts worse, the kind done out of principle or being dragged along by the indecisive? They both hurt worse than the online "we've talked all we can, but are we really going to meet" abandonment, but when it feels the whole world has cut ties with you, it's just reinforcement.

I guess the dragged out friend zone hurts more than the "we cannot be involved no matter how good you are," but again, the reinforcement of the latter. It says you're a good person, but the circumstances are never going to go your way. The term involved in this case is not about sex or romance, just someone you can count on to be there. It's only been 11 years since I've had that (with the exception of a garage rental in 2008).

And wouldn't you know it, I've probably felt like I haven't accomplished a damn thing for that long. Is it more than a feeling? Perhaps not. No one that I know has thrown so many artistic (wrestling is an art) punches, trying to create something with some meaning that a large amount of people could understand or relate to. There are plenty of pricks who just want to mock my efforts to the point where it feels I've just been locked out from my passions.

It's poetic, since I'm a Cubs fan, that my pitches just end up in the dirt, but my losing efforts aren't drawing millions of fans a year to inspire the continuation of futility. Hell, I'm not even drawing one.

And that one might be all that's needed for happiness. With all the damaged girls I know who always return to the proficient in damaging, how can that be true? There are so many assholes who keep reinforcing that as their chosen path, but they're never denied a second chance. I've been an asshole once, and I've yet to get that chance. Maybe I'm just too damaged. Gods be damned, how weak a person I must be.

Why would I consider the concept that one person could make a difference? Because of some cute shit I said to a girl online. Ironic that the guy who gave up infield singles at second base keeps trying to go deep.

"You gotta do what you do well. The problem is finding the outlet where it'll be appreciated."

It leads me to believe that may explain every good and fucked up relationship. The good ones appreciate the efforts of the other person. The fucked up ones, when you're only good at destruction, you look to destroy.

"Wait!! - Hulk Hogan" - Know Your Meme

It's sad that all those who took the time to destroy me, it wasn't about love. Perhaps I wasn't abandoned. No one ever took that much effort to include me anyhow, so I'm just stranded. No one ever gets upset with you not stopping to help a motorist.

Still, if you've heard "The Supersucker Drive-By Blues" you've know there are plenty of people who like to taunt the permanently flat. Like fate throwing the Hulk Hogan situation after I just secured that throwback tee to knock that item of my to own list.

The Hulkster just has to be part of what lead to a week of shaming by the local wrestling community. There are a lot of directions on how I could write about that situation. Can bad people stand for good causes like Lance Armstrong? How does this issue relate to my blog about Peoria's wrestling hatred towards those who tell them to quit saying it's okay to be racist*? But when Peoria doesn't care about what doesn't affect them, why should I take the time?

*To Midwest Impact Pro's credit (once Joey Grunge realized what his boys were doing), both the promoter and booker suggested that they would offer to find a place for me on their card, but I had to respond with a flattered not interested because of my stance on promoting a laissez-faire approach to handling racist views.