Depressalin: Chapter Zero “Paragon of Shit”

Right, let’s start here. What you are about to read is what I call “Zero”, which is the “intro” to Depresslin: Bitter Notes and Saving Throes from a Charming Thirty-Nothing— or, more accurately, my ego-mania turned into a book about my life. And shit. Please keep in mind: it’s not final. I’m sure I’ll edit things and add to it and stuff. In the meantime… enjoy.




You say I’m not good for you and I am poison for your soul… I would rather run, but I cannot hide from myself. — Painbastard “Poison for Your Soul

Brief Insight:

“Is the glass half empty or half full, Steve?”

Fuck the glass. Fuck you. Fuck the fucking world in its fucking eyes.”

Charon is a brutal whore. How’s that for an opener? A fucking brutal whore who destroyed a life that I shouldn’t have built anyway. But here I am, with what’s left of a life in tow… just trying to scrape by and clinging on to what scraps I have left. It could be worse. Oh, boy howdy, could it ever! At least I can write about it. You know, tell YOU, dear reader, all about it. Maybe you’ll laugh. Maybe you’ll cry. Maybe you simply won’t give a shit. One thing will be made clear, though. Ready?

Never cross a writer.

And there you go, folks. Words of wisdom if there were any to be had in this gaping maw of an asshole we call living. Still, to be fair, this won’t be ALL about Charon. My whole existence encompasses more than her, or even our lovely offspring. No, there’s much, much more to be had.

I would love to tell you that I haven’t always been bitter, jaded, cynical, and an all-around sardonic treat of a person. However, as the truth would have it, I’ve been this way my whole fucking life. I’m not always this perfect paragon of pessimism and bleakery, of course. I cover it with charm, humour, fun, astute observations and lots of witty comments. The short of it is that I hate my life, always have, always will, but I’ll never kill myself because, well, I’m an atheist and I know this is all I got.

When I was a kid, I was crushed when I discovered there was no Santa Claus. To this very day I still hold it against my parents. But a god? Nope. Never once believed in any of that puerile nonsense. Certainly not after finding out Santa was a load of bullshit. Man, I can still remember being on that NATO base in West Germany watching my dad and his Air Force buddies track Mr. Claus on radar. That shit was real. REAL, I tell you. Losing Santa was one of the telling moments of my childhood and that’s about where I had enough shit from motherfuckers.

“To hell with this crap!” I screamed.

I was eight.

Now I’m thirty-five, divorced, have two kids and am stuck in Canada. There are worse places to be stuck, yeah, but not many which are more expensive. I’ll bitch about Canada later, don’t you worry.

Where to start this thing? You’re holding a book in your hands or reading it on a computer or something and I should, at the very least, get right to the entertainment. I need to be your dancing fool so you can justify reading all this stuff. Perhaps you even paid for it—even better. You’re going to need all kinds of background anecdotes and stupid jokes to prepare you for the dreadful, cheerless entity that is my ex-wife, how I met her and ended up with her for almost seven years.

Hey, you want me to sum up my personality with a quick story?

Too bad. I’m gonna tell you, anyway.

Long ago, I went to the theatre with friends to see the movie se7en, having no idea what to expect. This was in the days before the internet exploded like a donkey full of nuclear bombs and we didn’t know anything about upcoming movies, save for seeing previews in theatres, watching Siskel & Ebert or actually listening to that one near-psychotic movie geek we knew at work. If you do not know about the movie I speak of, by the way, go look it up. I don’t have the want or time to explain it to you, other than it’s a nasty, dark movie involving a serial killer using the Seven Deadly Sins as his trademark. Getting back to being there and watching the film, I laughed out loud through most of it. I knew it wasn’t supposed to be a comedy, but I was most impressed seeing a “bigger movie” with those kinds of motifs, that kind of plot and brilliant bleak characters living equally bleak lives. It was awesome. As my friends and I were leaving the theatre, an older lady took the time to point out to me that I was a “sick fucker” and should “be put down for the good of society”. Naturally, I thanked her for her insights and wished her a pleasant evening having intercourse with small animals.

One friend with us was particularly disturbed by se7en. I made a mental note of that and, sure enough, I was talking to his girlfriend some time later and she told me that she was having a special movie night with him. She already had Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein but needed another video tape to make it just right. I told her straight away that se7en was one of his fave films and she should get to the video store post haste. Later on that day he showed up and they watched Frankenstein, which he enjoyed, and then she popped in se7en. Apparently he freaked out so bad he jumped over the couch, bolted for his girlfriend’s front door and didn’t talk to her for over a week. Their relationship ended poorly shortly after that.

Ian didn’t talk to me for over two years.

But when he did talk to me again, finally, I did my best to smooth things over. Yes, I was dick for doing what I did. Yes, I was the asshole. Yes, I took advantage of his hyper-sensitive, highly neurotic goth-boy nature. What does it prove? I don’t know, really, but it makes a great little story.

It gives you an idea about who I am. What I am.

Let’s light this fucker up, kids.


Wow, I really like to be dramatic, eh? Hah! If I can’t laugh at myself, who the fuck CAN I laugh at?


2 Responses to “Depressalin: Chapter Zero “Paragon of Shit””

  1. […] your convenience, here are the other chapters in order: Chapter Zero Chapter One Chapter Six  Chapter Seven “I’m Not Really a Writer” Blog Entry: […]

  2. […] kick off Depressalin with Chapter Zero, heading it with a quote from Painbastard’s track “Poison For Your Soul“. […]

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