Defective Soul

I may have gone crazy. My drive has risen exponentially and I cannot stop writing. I feel great and I hate and love everything. Nothing is clear. Everything is present. I can feel my soul screaming. I am waking up.


My name is Shan and as I write this I am crying. These tears are full of pain, hate, and anger. I have lost my way and forget who I am. All I want, all I Fucking want is to be free. Free from the lying. Free from the insecurity. Free from the stress. Free from the darkness. Free from the terror that has invaded my heart. I cry like a Shan, I cry as me. My soul is flaring up. My soul is alive. The only hate I have is for the weight that I carry when I try to live. Because I try. I do not live. I do not eat. I do not even love. I am an empty pile of meat just waiting for his first shit in the morning. I am you. My soul speaks to me. My soul screams for me to wake up. I swear. I swear on my soul I will wake up. I do not want to be scared anymore. I want life to fill my blood, to corrode my bones, to shift every sensation I have. I normally don't know, I constantly don't know. Not this time. My ambition, my drive, my heart mother fucker. My heart is crying out to me. Wake up Shan. Wake the Fuck up.

I picture myself on a cliff and there is someone behind me. I know this person to be my past, but I do not want to accept it anymore. So I jump. I fall forever into an infinite pool of bliss. Then I land. I am onstage. There is an audience but they are invisible. They are waiting. I see a microphone and I pick it up. All the lights go off and a spotlight hits my eyes. I am blind and I try to speak, but my throat croaks up dirt. I am dry. I am nothing. My soul is screaming at me. Finally, I speak, but nothing comes out, silence. The spotlight cuts and I see a mirror in the darkness. I see me smiling, I see me laughing. I start to cry again. It all goes dark.

The lights come on and I am in a helicopter above a city no one has ever visited but me. I am flying around looking for my destination. I am lost. I see my house and I jump. The helicopter disappears as I fall, like a ton of bricks, home. I am home, but this is not my home, this has to be Hell. I am in pain in this place. I recognize, the couch and the table. I am terrified as I shake. Fuck you, I am in a nightmare. I see blood dripping, my own. My father appears and walks over to me with a large jar of my blood. He is smiling. I am enraged. He turns his back and I smell something burning. He approaches me with a red hot poker. The rest of my family is in the other room with their heads down, waiting. I scream for him to stop. I tell him "if you love me, you will let me be free, you will let me go." He slaps me and grabs my lip. I am binded and as I struggle my arms and legs get stretched and I hear a crack. I scream out in pain. My father brings the red hot poker to my lip and inscribes the family name into my flesh, into my soul. I start to cry again and pass out. 

I wake up outside in dirty shaggy clothes. I see a kid with a helmet and a suit playing with toys in the mud. I stand with this kid and look up at the sky. The sky is cloudy and it starts to rain. I feel my tears again, but it is from the sky, the planet is crying. I feel weak and blood is dripping all over this body, but the rain is cleaning me. I close my eyes and smile. I have escaped, I am free.

I wake up. I know I am really awake because my head hurts and my eyes are ready to cry again. My soul is waiting for me. Wake up Shan. Wake up.

Chappelle Live in 2012

Dave Chappelle 1/18/12 
The Independent in San Francisco 
Last Show Wednesday @ 10:30pm

Weed smells from the crowd, farts, and booze fill my nose. I am in the front row staring at one of the most influential comedians to walk away from the spotlight. He is sitting on a stool with his feet up on the feedback speaker. He keeps shifting his beanie over his head and exhales a puff of smoke, "all this weed is bringing me back. Memory Sense, that is what actors call it. Just one smell and they go right back to the moment."  I believe he said as he snaps his fingers to the words. Interesting shit to be honest, but no one laughs. Dave surveys the room with his eyes and taps his cigarette. Bits of entrails from the tip fall to the floor and he stamps it with his feet. He is watching us, feeling the vibe of the room. He is in complete control.

As an aspiring comedian, watching him handle a crowded room, must have been 100 - 300 people, was intoxicating. His jokes were few and short, but powerful. Then he said something like "I smelled my balls, that is the punchline. I write my jokes by starting with the punchline then feel it all out." Then he goes into the bit and we all die laughing. After the show I eagerly wait with a friend with the hopes of seeing him. He doesn't show. Only vomit beneath what is possibly his rental car for the day and two onlookers who came to his show yesterday hoping to get a glimpse as well. "Turtle pussy," they mention came out of his mouth during the Tuesday show, then they wander off.

His performance was a mix of heckler challenges, talks about the things on his mind, and confrontation with almost every woman he could gander at. I was not short-changed. This was a personal show. Dave is a strong performer and after seeing Paul Mooney a few weeks prior, is also reminiscent of him as well. I laughed hard and enjoyed it thoroughly. He mentions going clubbing, the type of pipe he smokes out of, and to push his buttons hecklers. He has had worse.

Multiple times during the show he motioned at me. I looked down and away. The intimidation was too much to handle. "What is your name?" He asks out of nowhere. "Shan... Shan." "Hmmm, never heard that before." I have a unique name and have a comedy routine built around it as well, but my mind is blank when he talks to me. I told him about my day job and he made a fake movie pitch about it and laughed that I lived and worked with my friend who was sitting right next to me. He made a few Street Fighter jokes, "Shan likes these jokes." I mentioned I was a gamer. He asked what my most exotic vacation was, "traveling across America" I replied, not exotic but all I had. "North or south?"  I reply, "north." Then he made a remark about his knowledge of the country and asked the audience for more feedback on vacations, "who keeps saying Antarctica." A couple next to us offers a view of her breasts for him to stay longer. He counters with a nipple bump. Nothing ever goes down, he mainly dazzles the audience with this act for over half an hour. 

He looked ruffled, distressed, and mostly tired. Five shows prior and this was his last. I ate it all up and wanted more. I whispered to my friend "I am ready for Rooster's and I need more of this." This was my fourth comedy show I have been to as an audience member: Paul Mooney on New Year's Eve, Anthony Jeselnik last Fall, and a three-man show at Rooster's three years prior. All I do now is study and practice comedy, it is my life, my passion. Rooster's T competition is next month and I have been knocked out of three comedy competition's last year. I need any boost of confidence or inspiration to get me through my second year of comedy. I need to kill.

It was a pleasure to watch him perform a personal and intimate show for over two hours with us. Even playing Lil Wayne's "She will" and talking about it was an interesting approach. In my opinion, he can make a joke about almost anything and play with the audience till the end of the world. He said something like "my jokes are dope, I can write." I do not think anyone would doubt that Chappelle. He asked a staff member to the side how much longer he had doing this as she handed him coffee to keep him up. She said, with everyone in agreement, he is long from gone.

I hope to meet him one day, me as a working comic, maybe he will remember the jokes he cracked with the audience, my friend, and me. Maybe he won't. Either way, I am glad I saw him and now more determined to step my game up in the comedy world. 

This Year 2012

I trust these words will be full of anger, pain, and a bit of passion. Listening to the Pink Floyd album The Dark Side of the Moon for the first time my fingers cannot stop typing...

Good Intro on this album

I tried to foolishly cure myself this year, 2012. I was raised in a family where I believed in the end of the world to be this year. My father wrote a poem about the end of the world and out of lack of interest in a normal life as a child I was intrigued. I spiraled into a self-loathing world of my own. My mentality was that the world was going to end when I grow up, so who cares? I grew up very cynical, afraid, depressed, and eager for the end. Suicidal thoughts were always a normal splendor of thought. I hated people who were happy or didn't believe me. I thought going to college was stupid or thinking about the future was pointless. Will all just die anyways, who cares? Bastards! Fools! Slowly a bit of stress hit my abdomen and stayed with me year after year. Growing stronger and weighing me down, especially my decisions and direction.

Loving the album right now

Depression and an invisible shell from life became my life. Inside, my eternal world, was decaying and laughing at me. I hated myself. Mirrors and reflections taunted me. My thoughts: Go die! Die already! Who cares! Fuck it and Fuck you! Anger and rage is all I wanted to know when things upset me. Anything about happiness or pursuing life to it's fullest. I can't do that, no one can. We are born for one thing, to die. Something my father told me when I asked him long ago. So I lived depressed as I second guessed my nature. If my inner world has a color it is black and blue with shades of red and grey. Beautiful, honestly. Dark and decrepit. As I grew older happy people and success continually bugged me. Progress upset me. Cute animals, kids, life sucked. Fuck you life! Screw you world! God? Fuck God. Strike my ignorance down now and kill me. 

I am in space with the sounds of Pink Floyd

I never died, just cried. My family got annoyed with me and people around me did not want to deal with me. So I was alone, I was always better off alone. At least a familiar face I can trust to screw the day up was by my side. A comfort. The tensity in my abdomen grew to a mental shake visible all over my body. My head lowered to the ground and my lips shaped a daily frown. Then I forget and just tried to live life. Sadly, life sucks (second time). People are mean and unforgiving. Friends do not want to help and everyone cares about themselves, especially me. Plus like my family told me, I am not crazy or helpless. Grow up Shan. I started to care about myself from time to time and felt selfish. I would see a girl I liked and yell at myself later for staring or hit myself and bite my lips. I got used to building rage and punching walls. I would push to upset people and loath in the glory of the self-hatred brought from it all. 

This music has pulled me into a peaceful orbit

Death, destruction, mayhem, and chaos are my beautiful girlfriends. Now I write all this in a past tense as if I am finished with it all. If only. I foolishly believed, now in 2012, I was done with all this. The world will not end. I have not escaped my history, better yet, I have ran my miles on the treadmill and track. I have sweated past all my insecurities to be where I am now. Naturally, still some miles to go. With all my strengths, all my confidence, I am nothing. Just a fool. I cannot escape the invisible hour of now. The present. I can only face my past and my future right here. It is not a sad truth, but I cannot deny the difficulty. My only peace is that I don't know. I don't know. 

My mind is blank and the beat is corroding my mind

I really do not have a conclusion or even a beginning for that matter. I just understand every day I fight to escape the pain of depression that bastard jumps on my back and rapes me till I break. I do have one last sentence. Live life and accept your truth, then go die.