black and blue again

that's a dave gahan song. i meant to write a post entitled 'blue again' and the song just came to my mind. it has nothing to do with the actual contents. neither had blue again, but hey, indulge me, i need a title.

i've been chewing on this post long enough to bite my teeth out on it and i still find the thing hard to swallow. whenever the subject comes out in one guise or other, my blood just instantly starts to boil. of course i am only harming myself, it's not like i don't know that. but how the hell can i help it?

i'm talking about the marvellous issue of money. fuck, people, wake up. you're not all about your bank account. well, some of you are, agreed, and i feel mighty sad for you. you're a pitiable sight. and you are sub-human. and i walk a mile around you if i can. i don't do talks with mere golems when i can help it. cause that's what you are when your most striking feature is your money. or noticing other's money. or valueing everything up in money. or thinking that your fucked up money can buy you everything and everyone. and - even worse - thinking that everyone else's world revolves around (your) money.

so would please just fuck off out of my life? i have too preciously little time to be wasted on slimes like you. i don't care what car you drive, i don't care whether your mobile has the value of an appartment, i don't care where in the world you had your holiday and in what hotel you stayed, i don't care where you intend to buy your next piece of land, i don't care in what restaurants you dine. and least of all do i care how many chicks you screwed 'cause they wanted your fucking money. honestly. so please give me a break. go rattle to someone who does care. who knows, they might even be impressed.

and most and i mean most of all: fuck the hell off with your idea that everyone else is like you and the whores you get laid with. stop trying to feed me your shit, cause i'm not buying it. the moment i'm convinced that every one in this world only cares about assets, having them, getting them and flaunting them in people's faces, i make the solemn promise to hang myself. until them, do fuck off from around me. you pester the air that i breathe.

actually, i think i got the title wrong. i can't even let it bring me down. i'm not spiritually evolved enough to feel only sadness and pity for the nothingness you are. presently, it just enrages me that you dare lift up your eyes.