People Love Weird

I could easily write this journal about my parent's obsession with being rich, the superficial behavior of those born wealthy or the battle to tame my curly hair, but I decided I'd write about something more... amusing.

Everyone loves weirdo's. Most don't realize this heart wrenching, gut clawing romance with the unusual, but oh yes, it exists. People will watch movies with monsters they can't see in everyday life, go on roller-coasters to find new sensations or travel to another part of the world just to bite into something absolutely alien to them.

From the very young age of... well, doesn't matter what age... we stare at anything we aren't accustomed to. [In 'we' I mean the generic human being without any manners.] Whether it is twins, a morbidly obsese person, or a some sort of display at a circus, people end up staring. Millions of years ago, that was probably the safest thing to do, other than scenting out the weird. However, more futuristic humans who are dependent on their technology find no reason to develop their sense of smell and would rather just look.

Braver humans will approach The Weird and either continue staring at a closer angle or initiate conversation with the abnormality. Most often, meeker humans will look away in shyness. The Weird will return to them in their thoughts before they go to bed.

I live in Los Angeles, and other than Las Vegas or New York, LA is pretty much freak central. I can't even describe all of the freakish sites of seen walk down the streets I call home. Usually, I'm a pretty mild site of weird.

Wait, let me restate that:

I'm not weird.
I blend into the crowds so well that it is difficult to find a way to look different. The music around me is reaching new heights of abnormalness and together all of those new bands are becoming normal. The only option for me was to reach into a different part of the world and maybe try and immitate the style from there. And still, that hardly puts me apart from the crowds.

It is really hard to find weird now, and I love weird. Even the internet is dissolving my limits, making me accustomed to things like 'Goatse' and odd forms of using Fennel plants in BDSM-esque occasions. The novelty of the strange is wearing off.

To get to the point of the journal... or well, the inspiration:

Today, I wore my favorite Deathstars shirt. On it is the bass player Skinny Kangur; he's in a bodybag and made to look dead. Skinny has dreads, a lip ring, nose ring and giant hoop earrings. In Los Angeles, he hardly gets a second glance when I wear him on my shirt. On the contrary, in the wealthy vacationer's area called "The Hamptons" (located close to, but not that close to, New York) my Deathstars t-shirt got attention from someone- and any attention is usually too much attention.

"Deathstars... Is that a band?" Mr.Born-Wealthy-With-Lots-o-Girlfriends-But-Ugly asked me.
My response was most likely a smile and a nod... I had been caught off guard and hadn't even noticed him eyeing Skinny down. (By the way it says Deathstars across my tits. I know where Mr. Wealthy was looking. >_>) My stepdad was able to tell him that Deathstars were Swedish, and that's why he had never heard of them.

This whole week I had neglected to wear the shirt, and I guess I really missed out on getting some obnoxious stares from well-to-do-people. I love getting stared at by older people who think they know better. It gets me all indignant but happy. And as my health teacher said while grabbing his hairy man-tits, "Ooo, it makes me lil' nippies hard."

(Oh gawd, he was a weirdo. xD)

Anyways, next time I come back I hope to have either dreadlocks, an eyebrow piercing, green hair, or boots that go up to my thighs. In the world of wealthy old folks and golf, I can add to their not-seen-often weirdo population. Like doode, who would want to miss out on that?

I really hope I made a point somewhere in this journal. :D

-Boom