A Nice Hard Slap – It’s Nice to be Out of the Closet.

As I continue to do this blog and as my MySpace and Facebook shit grows, more and more people I know through regular, non-CHUD.com life (family, old friends, softball teammates, waitressess, bartenders, exotic dancers, and others) are starting to realize what a fucking nutjob I am in reality, the side of them they see in small doses but have no idea of the breadth of. I have to be honest, it feels good.

I’m sure of them are going to read my stuff and flee, and I can’t fault them. Some people aren’t equipped to deal with the kind of stuff you see here, particularly in my contributions which are more geared towards making you laugh or cringe as opposed to building your inner film encyclopedia. Those people are what I call dumb motherfuckers.

But the ones who know me through traditional and somewhat benign means, if they can still hang knowing what I do and how I do it, I think it makes the whole thing more glorious and justifies the fact that we connected in the first place. Usually, unless we’re desperately starved for attention [I can think of a few people in my circle of friends who fit that bill], we tend to latch onto like-minded people regardless of how we meet them. I have a recent shining example of the fact that you never know where you’re going to meet the next great person in your life, and everything about the place and situation should have prevented anything good from rising out of the situation but you simply never know…

At the same time I’m finding it much easier to part with lifelong friends that in the past I made every effort to keep communication alive with. Not so much anymore, as I’ve realized that I don’t like who I was when I became friends with those folks in the first place. As for family, I can’t imagine many of the people in my family [not the most creative extended family in the world] getting into my shit but they remember me as a crazy kid with fake blood and an 8mm camera at age ten so I could give a fuck. Family is overrated anyhow.

But I like being out of the closet as a crazy prick. In fact, when I meet a new person it might be fun to have a little business card I can give them with a link to my author page on this site and have it say “If you read this stuff and still want to talk to me, my number is ________________”.

If they call, maybe we can be friends. If they don’t, then they are dumb motherfuckers. Or sane. One of the two.

But as I grow older and slightly less freely gregarious, I’m enjoying losing some of the polish and thoughtfulness that plagued me as a young gentleman.

- Nick Nunziata also eats babies, fucks sparrows, and spoonfeeds young demons until they’re able to slaughter the innocent on their own.