So What

I few years back I wrote a song called “So What.” You can listen to it here if you want. At the time, I felt like an outsider in my own home, someone who had not only taken a wrong turn but had completely missed the day of school they tell you what the turns are. I felt like a complete failure - disconnected, underrated, hungry, forgotten and completely alone. My absolute nadir, I thought. And I wrote the song.

They say art imitates life. But sometimes life imitates art, and then it gets even worse. Everything I felt back then has gotten even worse. I look back at the song now and think hell, I wish it was only that bad. It’s like writing a song about gee, my girlfriend doesn’t cook for me anymore like she used to. Then the next week you find out she slept with some dude in the office. Then after that you find out she’s been in porn the whole time you’ve been together, then you find out she’s thrown out your Black Tail collection, then it turns out she’s Puck from the “Real World.” Fuck, you’re thinking, as much as it sucked when all she does is not cook, I’d rather be back there. Christ. It’s gotten worse.

Am I angry now? I feel like a grizzled Sam Elliot laying against a cactus in the desert at noon, sand gritty in every pore, body completely dried out and someone poking at me with a stick. Sometimes a man’s anger is all he has; his only companion, his only inertia. Ready to break, ready to snap, I dunno. Don’t worry, you’re not witnessing a dude having a breakdown or meltdown; I’m not gonna glue pages of the bible to my walls before killing Cub Scouts. But you are looking at a guy more and more willing to err on the side of desperation, a little more ready to say “fuck it” to anything as the minutes creep by. Yes, I am a loser; but right now I feel more like that quote by Paul Westerberg: I’m a loser - not in the sense that I’ve lost anything, but that I’ve got nothing to lose.

I couldn’t go to my reunion, and let ‘em know what I’ve been doing
They wouldn’t let me in the door, they didn’t want me anymore
And my liquor was thrown up, my jeans were all torn up
And all my friends just looked at me and said
“Why don’t you grow up?”

So what so what so what so what
So what so what so what so what

I hated everyone inside, well that’s not true but I sure tried
I used to be their favorite, now all I am is wasted
And I guess I’ll just give up, cause I never will live up
And I’ll just laugh, laugh and laugh, and I’ll pretend it don’t cut

So what so what so what so what
So what so what so what so what

Looked through the window at them inside, please tell my mother that I didn’t cry
I used to be her favorite, and all I’ve done is waste it
So say goodbye to my friends, good times always end
And I’m gonna run, run and run and I ain’t never coming back again

So what so what so what so what
So what so what so what so what