The Thing about Perfection

And they say it's about perfection. Thats what they notice when they look at me now. Perfect life, perfect world, perfect wife. I dont know if what I had to give up to achieve it was worth it. So I did what I had to do. First, I gave up my simplicity, then my sense of good judgement. Later it was my emotions, my care for other peoples, finally, I ripped my very self into two pieces like the tearing of cloth when two people fight over a blanket or a shirt. And the two halves fight each other almost every day. They have for fifteen years.

One half is quiet, thinking, reading penetrating novels, contimplating Dali, Lustmord by Maria Tatar, and of course, Gottfried Helnwein. I dont know if filling my head with all of this was part of the original plan. But plans change. Oh but they do.

I set out to make a statement. As early as Christian School, Stupid magazine, pictures of men with nipple clamps and dildos attached to thier gartered waists. I drew nasty things just to shock people. I was tired of having to choose between God and everything else they thought was bad. Rock music mostly. So I chose to go down the other path and fuck you to all the people that didnt like it. Afterall, it was them that had the brilliant idea to put me in a diaper for the Christmas pageant, and look how that turned out.

I was a writer at first, sending out these massively gory stories about mutilation and inscest. I didnt know whether or not theyd by published, and in the end, no matter who I sent them out to, Terrors Magazine mostly, they said they didnt have the room for my work. So I decided, after much thought, to turn my poems and stories into songs.

It happened it seemed so quickly and easily. One band, two bands, three bands. I made all the decsions. Someone had to. Thats when the other half came out. I started wearing that contact and lipstick, the more gross, the better. I realized I liked it, the bad reputation, the way they talked about me, thats when the OTHER half came out to play.

The other half. The one I created out of pure rage and pure hatred. I didnt MEAN it. It just happened. After awhile, when we got famous, I didnt know the difference anymore. Who was I? Was I still me? Or was I this THING I created. Lets talk for a bit about this THING.

Its got one white eye, its got several faces, its got one name, and a huge ego. Its a totalitarian, despotic Hitler in lipstick. I dont think I even realize anymore when it sneaks up and hits me in the back of the head with its needs and wants. What it wants is power. Oh my God, power. It gets off on it, drinks it like fine wine. Power over people, power over fans, power over bandmembers, power, power, power, power. Not one ounce was enough.

So I let it play, I let go wild for years and years. To make up for it, I numbed myself with drugs and alchohol, letting the cocaine and absinthe rot away at the part of myself that felt anything this THING Id created didnt like. I never felt sorry, I never felt regret, I never felt anything anymore. I stopped thinking about how my thoughts affected and hurt the people around me.

The tours were nightmares. I watched as the THING took over. It cut me, cut others. It did horrible things and didnt feel one ounce of regret. It witnessed others cutting themselves, hurting themselves, doing anything I could think of that would degrade themselves. It raged and demanded and threw fits. It threw things and hurt its own bandmembers. It pushed and pulled and pressured untill I couldnt breathe and my heart pitched in my chest. Oh how that hurt. But they always had people willing to bring me back. Some nights I just wanted to crumble under the power of the THING and die. But that THING made way too much money, so I, and everyone else, let it keep moving on.

It started to make me think that people were dispensable, so I started to let them think so too. I was cold and said things I wish like hell I could take back. The THING didnt. It made perfect sense to it. First it was a drug addict, Daisy, who I had to agree had to go. Them Zimmy. He was a friend, but it didnt feel that Zim was right, so it let him go. We hired John 5 and everything seemed to click.

For awhile, it was satisfied. It let me come out more and more to write my emotions. It let me go. I started to surface, and like a newborn baby, I experienced love and true friendship. Twiggy and I became close, and I couldntve made it without his love and without his mind. He did everything. Put up with the THING, made his sacrifices. He was my best friend and to be truthful, probably the closest thing Ill ever know to true love. Sure he was a drug addict and an alchoholic, but I let it go because I loved him so much. My little doll.

We all stopped in our tracks after Columbine. The THING raged in anger as I shrank in fear and sadness. Eventually, it took over and penned the most angry album to date. We called it the final piece to the tryptich, and the THING roared its ugly head more than ever. The tour that followed represented my most conflict laden representation. The power it had was amazing. I watched from a stunned point of view as it did whatever it wanted to do. It dressed how it wanted to, no matter how much of my flesh it showed. It dressed like the Pope and got arrested. It made calculated moves I didnt know I was capable of. The THING made such a bang. It got nastier, atrocious, disgusting, foul, horrid, and putrid in its behavior even my fans were shocked. But they bought it. Ate it up, gave it power, and I watched as it exploded in its own light. The whole time, Twiggy stayed by my side and we were never seen, EVER, without him right at my right hand. He was the only one the THING didnt want to let go of. Degrade and hurt, sure.....but never let go of.

I stopped after that. I dropped on my knees in mercy and forced the THING down. When I came back, I discovered something I didnt know what to do with. My best friend and I were falling in love. Sure wed been fucking since the THING took over, but I wasnt never clear enough to deal with it. I dealt with it now. I dealt with it using the THING. I didnt want to deal with it myself. So I watched from my cringed position as the THING pushed him away. I watched it it made him do things, awful things I didnt want. It said things, horrible things. I scratched and kicked and cried, but it kept going, untill Twiggy left.

I convinced myself it was the best, although I cant stand myself for it to this day and I want to tear my flesh off whenever I hear about him. I kept the THING under control more and more as I opened a new era. I calmed, and took control. I woke up. I realized I was alone. Really alone. And nothing or noone was going to trust me quite the same way. Why should they? I dont trust myself. The THING is always close. Always ready with a snarky comment or a snippy demand. So I got married. I dont know quite why. I dont really love her. I dont really love anyone.

So here I sit, with the perfect wifes picture on my desk, surrounded by gold and platinum albums, a mirror with coke on it in front of me. I made a video just like this. The label banned it of course. I laughed and put it on the site. People now download it and everyone has it. Ive broken all my own rules and broken my own people. Art, music, painting, business, all of it firmly under my control. Happy, not a fuckin chance. The THING isnt happy either. This new icy control has left it bereft and whimpering like a dog forced under the porch.

I swill the glass of absinthe in my hand a little more then drink it down, following it with a line. Perfection. Theres no such thing. I gave up everything and gave in to the worlds needs. I sacrificed, thats all. Sacrifixtion. Is that a word? Maybe Ill use it for an album title.