Age impedes my stream, no fuckin' fear of you

Recently, I’ve decided to try and be more ambitious. To be more ambitious, I’ve decided that I first need to be more assertive. Now, I don’t consider myself a doormat by any means. I come across as pretty confident (a brilliant façade) and I can talk big, so people generally let me be—growing up on the mean Wisconsin streets, this is quite the accomplishment for an O.G. like myself. However, there are certain times, particularly times involving my advancement in the world, that I totally fall apart like when asking for a raise (to be truthful, I’ve never been ambitious enough to have a job where you get raises) or applying for college (my mom decided I should go to community college—Thanks Mom!). I panic, apologize, excuse myself to go stifle my sobs in the bathroom stall (done multiple times at various jobs and once at an orientation for UW), etc. In fact, my voice has a certain point of volume which, when exceeded, unfailingly breaks into crying. Yes, I know what you’re thinking, but no. This is not has sexy as it sounds. Anyway, coming to a point in my life where I’m exhausted by my lethargy and ambivalence—a point where I actually want to test my own abilities in becoming what I might want to be—I’ve decided to assert myself.

Some people might do this by reading self-help books; others might do this by being aggressive assholes to people who are weaker than them (also a valid choice). Me? I’ve decided to do this in true PQK fashion: converting my thought process into the voice of Deadwood’s Al Swearengen.

Warning: This clip is on the vulgar side



So basically I’ve been thinking in iambic pentameter and peppering my internal sentences with words like fuck, cocksucker, and cunt. I haven’t confronted any prospective employers yet, but I do break it out while speaking to the decapitated head that I keep in my closet (rent the show, it’s only three seasons for Christ’s sake).

This internal change might be because I have finally finished the show’s final season and it may also be because I’ve realized my calling as a surprisingly good-hearted thug/pimp/leader in an 1870’s South Dakota mining town. Either way, I enjoy thinking, “Does that cocksucker mean to give me fuckin’ pause?” while waiting on a table at work.


On related HBO note, I saw the Sex and the City movie and 14 of my 15 predictions come true. Carrie does not wear a hat shaped like Marx. Rather she wears a hat shaped like Ezra Pound.