Of all the things I put off tonight and am putting off now -

it was all worth it

to see it snow in the desert.


For those of you who don't know,

it smells even sweeter than the rain.


Though tomorrow the bright white will too soon surrender -
sucked dry by the greedy sand
joining all the heads buried in it,
tonight I giggle at the jealous neon.

The dream fairy must have been in a good mood last night.
I had my second lesbian wet dream.
Fantastic.

You weren't involved this time, but it was nice to see that you cared enough to show up.
Always a pleasure.
Miss you, love.

New year's resolution: remember the importance of proper oral hygiene.

Last night here - long day of fun and family -
I walked around taking in the lights strung around the bannister - down to the lake to see the house lit up for one last moment -
mom and i cut off everything and watched the tree - taking it all in - then cut it off together

It was a Merry Christmas.

Just as I love so much away from here - it is the same -

this whole week -
though miles away
I looked over at you so many times and smiled
at you smiling back

3 days

I went through 15 years of memories today. Pretty impressed with myself that I was able to narrow down 10 boxes to 4.
It's a very fitting phrase for the closing of this year, "Ya know, John, the older I get the less I care." (referring of course to the past, but then again - maybe a quite a bit to the trifles of the present)

Many interesting surprises of early talent leaped from oodles of college learning.
The only impressive stuff was what I had written in between the mountains of notes. My own thoughts were the only things that truly withstood time. Laughing out loud alongside remembering very vividly just how bad..., this was the first time that there were no wounds opened - it didn't hurt - I didn't care that it was gone.
I am just happy that it had been there.

A great deal of reminders of why the other night was so much fun - none of it existed anymore. Just me. That's me. And that's me now.

Sure, - all those pictures, clippings - I was a hell of a lot cuter with a lot more potential, but still not smart enough to not be in a lot of pain.

Yeah, I'm older now.
But for all of the critical theories and authors lost - I actually gained paradise.
No Virgil on this trip - just pages and pages grabbing my hand - pulling me through my own realms of my own experience - my own forgotten subjectivity.
All it took was not knowing where to look and forgetting to look behind me
because, for so long, I couldn't convince myself - that's where it never was.

A year of so many epiphanies and this Christmas - so quickly - a multitude of resolutions served to me with such ease -
worn, yellowed, tattered, and strangely EAGER-
dusted off open ends of all the torturous thoughts of then and what if and why, you fucking fool -
mended by mere sight, touch -
a final understanding that I was never allowed to see before - until now -
as if waiting all this time to burst open and show - that it's possible now
- to be - now- closed, ALL OF IT closed, now filed, and so so full.

A very long journey in the wrong direction being completed by merely turning around.


It was worth it.


Plus I can get back into some really jammin' dresses.
(Ah, girls...hee)
They are as wrinkled and full of stories as I - but I can have them again.
And not be sad.
That was worth it too.


Nothing can be bad that has brought me here.
With you.
With you all.

Here's to a good New Year.
For all of us.

I'm due.

Seven chicken pies swimming in my head.

Well, it's official. You CAN indeed be too drunk to sing James Brown. Luckily, they knew some Ray Charles. True old hometown moments: improv jam session at 3:00 am at the old Mexican restaurant, doing shots off the line in the kitchen, passing the bowl around on the balcony of the second floor discussing with the owner where the best acoustics would be, wandering around the back lots of historical downtown pointing out all the old painted murals from our childhood.

We sat smoking in the moonlight in the old neighborhood just like we used to, talking of the present though impossible to really see it. The wind rushed through the trees and we fell silent. Far off in the distance, we heard a train passing through town
taking everything with it
all over again.

Never really realizing that we wouldn't have dug our nails into it so tightly when it was pulled away if it hadn't once been so sweet. Ripping it to shreds for if any small part had been left intact, we would have grabbed that too.
We had heard that whistle so many times.
Smiling across the car, we unclenched our fists and listened to it slowly fade away.

Goodbye, Salisbury.

And suddenly - it's all okay.

All it took was 1500 miles, my mama, some grits, and 8 aging oldies groups that can still ROCK DA HOUSE!

A year ago my problems weren't nearly this good.
I'm happy. Nothing can beat that.

Except maybe a fried chicken biscuit.

Yes, tomorrow I will be happy and have a biscuit...too.
Alright.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE!

Petty:


I cried twice this week.

Once because I was very sick, and no one would help me.

Once because I would not be helped, and it made me sick.






But thank you, for letting me see my own words,
there is always more
even if there's not

Thursday: Jane's Addiction, Static X, Yellowcard

Lookin’ good, feeelin’ real good, now sore from headbangin’ non-stop fun and mucho “WHOO HOO!’s

We were allowed to stay for the whole show - a nice change of pace.
Lots of surprises and an insanely good time.


Saturday night was alright for fighting even a for Thursday binge:
Perry Ferrell lookin’ good in his leather and boots with Botox shots in his head.
Whoaaaa! Ho!
We had no need for aggravation and got a lot of action in.


The first encore I’ve ever seen in this city.
She knew, but I didn’t believe
And then it was.

I saw her teeter but I wasn't going to let last time happen again.

Grabbing her beltloop and pulling her shoulders close to me –
I would not let her fall –
This was what we had been denied before, what we had come to see,
finally
everything we wanted
to hear,
to sing,
and to fucking dance.

I couldn’t scream it loud enough.
“Right the fuck ON!”

Random irritation:

Where the fuck does the cursor go?
I’m halfway into logging in or a typing a thought to look up and find a blank screen.
My blinking vertical obviously has something better to do.

What is more important than me?
Ain’t no advert more important than what bullshit I graciously give you back.

Okay, when you’re gone, I get mad.
But, I did pay, according to my statement,
for this luxury,
so keep on deliverin’!
You call yourself a provider, motherfucker?

Or what?
No internet.
Okay, the majority of what I say is in parentheses, anyway.

Good eye, there, earthlink.

Tragedy always trumps

which sucks, cause that's a lot of good anger wasted
I know my ledge can never be steeper than his.
I would have never bought it, though.
At least, he got a T-shirt.
Which is so much less than me saying – ha Ha HA! –
I KNEW that transfer case was gonna blow!
Well, to me, at least.

Just a slight redirection.
Now I'm pissed cause I won't get any money...for now.

I should be used to his distant reality being the master of excuses.
But it is a great reminder, you fat bastard.

Mmmm. Contraband weenie.

Smuggler caught with 756 pounds of Mexican bologna

EL PASO, Texas (AP) — Border agents last week landed a meaty bust, seizing 756 pounds of bologna arranged into the shape of a car seat and covered with blankets in a man's pickup.

Mmmm. Meaty bust.

Why's everbody pickin' on my blog today?

Don't make me angry...
you wouldn't like me when I'm angry.


For Lexi:
I'm fine.
Job sucks.
Theatre's the theatre.
Madly in love.

So there.

Now, back to the vague.

I thought Bridget Fonda was dating Dwight Yokam.
Sorry, wyrd.

Response:

My quote under my senior photo was:
"Sincerity is the basis of character."

Honesty and sincerity are LIFE. They are everything.

When applied to acting, how could you expect other people to believe it,
if you don't believe it yourself?



What's the most sad to me are the ones that only have the role.

And so quickly,
he's gone.


Iron law: It's nonny before ninny.

That's just all you need to know.

I slammed down my pen, leaning in, sweeping glare,
"Tell me!"
I made an entire conference room stop today.

Excuse me, an entire conference room of men stop and be afraid to make eye contact.

It sounds like my sin was pretty deserved after all. Yeah, maybe.

Maybe
After months of asking for the answer, none given, and then patronized for not knowing, I called a meeting. Sitting through an hour of bullshit why, still not getting WHAT and HOW, I heard my intellect questioned.
Note: Don't patronize a chick - especially one that never grew up understanding what the word meant until an adult.
I did all I could to not kill him. "I can't give you what you want unless you all figure out what exactly that it is you want!"

Dead silence.

"TELL ME!"

Nothing.


yeah, that's what I thought you's gonna say

Response to Nefarious:

I recently reflected on an argument. I was determined I was right. I had unfortunately not paid attention to the obvious. What my actions would be were based solely on what only I had been through and had done up to that point. The stance was clearly right, but for only me. I displaced my origins, casting them upon the other person who could never have any idea much less the same experiences to with which to identify. Very unfair. I could never know what someone else has lived through to bring them into any situation. My infallible answers were based on nothing but myself.

Going back home is always a big slap in the face that not everyone thinks the same as I.
I need to realize that the same broad exceptance needs to be applied everywhere to everyone with the same understanding. Not just with the ones closest to me. That's why my deadly sin made so much sense with it's counter description....

Wrath - Kindness
Kindness means taking the tender approach, with patience and compassion. Anger is often our first reaction to the problems of others. Impatience with the faults of others is related to this.

They aren't faults because they aren't you.

I've learned many times this year that everything, no matter how ingrained - can be revised. Eso was with me for a couple. It's the same philosophy I've been trying to apply to my parents and their racist, homophobic acquaintances for years.
False hopes, cause the answer is always going to be the same, "that's the way I was raised."
Can't be too false because I was also raised that way and chose different.
The slowly passing into extinction, and more than not, superfluous hope. The South: some bubbles are too strong, numerous, and much too afraid to touch one another without breaking.

I am amazed at the things I perceive, usually too late, but I do now attempt to incorporate other's circumstances even if only applicable to the memory.

Learned: Not everyone's situation starts from where I enter, my past arguments only point the other person's finger at myself.

We are that selfish. We all have that faith in ourselves. Being defensive and projective really reveals a lot of who we are. A fantastic trait, really, not many people have that confidence.

A group of selfish, self-reliant, creative bastards.
I guess that truly was the best way to put it.

Goodnight and much love,
and many many bubbles,
D

Happy birthday, you fat bastard.

I'm totally goin' to Kyle's family's Thanksgivin' next year.

Vegas, eh.

Well, it's an official record. I was in the presence of my father for 2.55 minutes before a rascist comment. He actually changed it up this year and slandered the Chinese first, then (well I'LL say Jewish people), then black people. That's a new order than I'm used to, but he has moved.
He also broke another record. He didn't even touch homosexuality until 2 days in. He asked me if the girl we had eaten lunch with, "was on the gay side?" Which was funny because that's what I had been trying to figure out all day the day before!
I did.


I had to smile, "No."
You sure?
"Yeah, I'm sure."
Well, with all her sports and stuff...I'd just thought...
"It's a shame too. A lot of professional ultimate frisbee players are gonna be real sorry to hear about that."
I just smiled to myself and looked at the trees.

So strange - life,
we were both curious for the same reason.


Then we had some fried chicken biscuits.

No sex no drugs no wine no women no fun no sin no you, no wonder it's dark

Stuff you

Atlanta, GA: bacon and cinnamon.

I'll get your books for you.

I have a strong affinity for dangerous or "red tagged" books.
As long as they are still there and you haven't killed anyone affiliated with the seven deadly sins, they're yours.
Hey, any movie that Gwenyth Paltrow is beheaded is worth it's millions in shillings.



7 AGAIN
The link was a little fucked up, but I found it. Still am having a hard time cause I was able to cheat for the last one and we were named.

Now I have to go through and relate to each category. Self assignment, then deduction.
What stinks is probably what you see is always going to be more accurate than what I don't even know what the fuck I'm lookin' at most of the time.

Do I know what rhetorical means?

oh, I'll guess harmony, dialectic, astronomy, or ...

Hell, I know it's not Geometery.

Before my Grandmama was put in a nursing home, Thanksgiving was always a surrogate holiday for me. The one thing that was always different was the stuffing.
In Wilmington, NC, they made it with pecans.
In Longmont, CO, it was with apples and sausage.
In Las Vegas, NV, ugh, oysters.
Playin' off eatin' a big mouthful of that was some of my best work.

Have a Great Thanksgiving everbody! May ya'll's stuffing not be funky!

Wrath/Anger ---- Kindness

Kindness means taking the tender approach, with patience and compassion. Anger is often our first reaction to the problems of others. Impatience with the faults of others is related to this.

This should be on the other blog, but....

I almost forgot-

The best lines from Mystic River (one of the best games ever):

"It's the same as Dunkin' Donuts, but it costs 15 X the price."

or

"The cops took him away last night...and they put him in the back....
If ya know what I mean"


I've ridden in the front. That doesn't mean anything different either.

80 PEOPLE!!!!!

ROCK ON! YOU CRAZY BITCH!!

And you were lookin' all good and shit, too. I can only assume it feels as good as I know it does.
You should have heard me flip out and Whoo Hoo! on the phone to W when I asked how many you did. Brian and Jon heard me. I asked again to hear it again and flipped all over. Brian and I raced around all the rooms of the house to be the first to tell the nutty gallery. We found them at the same time, after a couple trippings and a really bad flying burrito. (Hey, I had to try- they don't have a lot of dangerous furniture .) Brian gave me the pleasure. He knew how happy I was. I repeated the news and saw their eyes as I nodded through the update with my thats-cool-motherfuckin'-news-ain't-it smile. Everyone was estatic.

I'm the most happy of them all.
I hate that I missed it, but I was there.
I'd notch it on my bedpost if I could, but I think I'd rather hoist ya up for a thumbtack. I'll steal Pride tonight. Don't worry, I'll give it back.


happy

If you liked David Gale, then you're gonna LOOOOOVE Mystic River.

Hilarious.

I figured it out really early too, but I thought it was nice that every actor got their own crying scene. And boy oh boy, lots o' ACTING!
I wasn't expecting anything (it just happened to be a film that coincided with me buffet-ing and needing to sit down), so I wasn't let down.

I felt very beat about the head with the exposition. I always recall an episode of the Simpsons when Homer is trying to make suggestions for saving his animated character.
"When Poochie's not in the scene, all the other characters should be asking, 'Where is Poochie? Why isn't Poochie here?'"
It killed me that in EVERY beginning scene the last character was ALWAYS reintroduced by giving a small reaccount of their previous description. "Hey wasn't that the guy (first and last name) that was the one you told me did this...."

Also, Sean Penn reminded me a little too much of my own pressing mortality.

The ending - very Dirty Harry. If I hadn't known Clint was behind that camera, I'd have known anyway.

At least the big black guy beside me thought it was as funny as I did. That was the only thing that helped me through "Twister" without killing someone. (I was hungover enough to have done it during this one too.)

Sorry Dras, don't agree. Pure shit.
Yeah, it's not the worst, but it's the worst I'll see fo' sho'.
Might have translated a little better at the drive-in, but then again, anything does if you do it right.

I just feel REALLY bad for Laura Linney, but at least she got laid in both expensive wastes of my time.

I would have loved to have seen this one with Eso. I know she hated it.



Note to self: perfect reactions. I seem to neverendingly be confronted immediately after entertainment that I didn't enjoy with, "Didn't you just LOOOVE it?" I suppose I should be thankful that the question wasn't, "So, what did you think the theme was?"



A good night, good love, and tons o' good kinky sex to you all!

********
Aside to the missing Teej, the new Nickelback keeps on giving. A MUST. If I have to miss you then I have to, but never forget - anything about BOOBS will do.

It's an acronym for HyperText Markup Language.

I had to look it up though.

It's been about 3 years since a song has come out that makes me wanna fuck.
Thank yoooou, Nickelback.

TWICE THE CHARM

I pulled into a parking space today that turned out to be reserved. I looked in my mirror, then backed up and hit the curb. I was pissed that the parking lot was so small. I straightened up and backed into the curb again.
Once I was ready to pull off, I saw two guys standing outside of a car - a car right behind me. It sucked that when I hit them I put out their tail light, but worth the giggling that unknowingly I felt I had to do it AGAIN.



One of the few times when I think it would be more fun to watch me than be me. One of the very, very few...

If it's gonna suck, at least hope it's funny.


Cheers and safe, happy driving to you all!

I took a year off college. I knew what I wanted to do.
I was refilling a ketchup bag. Covered in sweat, grease, smelling like fried “Irish” food, in a hot kitchen on a hot, very fucking humid day, I looked out at the Cape Fear River just behind the drunk guy snapping his fingers for his check. I saw salad dressing vats coming out to refill tiny plastic ramikins.
I said very softly and slowly as time froze, “This is not my life.”
I turned to look at what I was doing and the 30 lb. ketchup bag had a malfunctioning nozzle. My arms were sprayed as well as what I had cleaned up as side work to go home.
I looked up to the ceiling and screamed, “This is not my life!”

The next time, I was in Vegas. It was a bad relationship, bad time, waay time to go. I sat alone on New Year’s looking around the room then to the ceiling, repeating, “This is NOT my life.”

I sit here now, much less interesting ceiling.
Yes, I know coming from what and where makes these surroundings relatively okay or moderately neato …but this still isn’t it.

This is not my life.

My progression goes much farther than materialism.
When it’s time, you know… even if you have to tell yourself.

Ahhh,

Public humiliation is always effective.

At what - I can't quite remember.




I think maybe blushing causes acne.

This is an interesting quiz.

http://www.philosophyquotes.net/cgi-bin/god_game1.cgi

I got two hits and bit one bullet.

Goodnight and love to all!

Great show!

Durst trial

Note to self:

It's as easy as self-defense, a million dollars, and a couple of bow saws.

I'll remember that.

Reinstatement of previous response to the rules of masturbation: 11/6/03
Confirmed as a Lutheran, that a girl would ever touch herself was never a thought, a problem, or by any means, EVER a sin because it didn’t exist. I don’t think there are any denominational bounds for this popular idea.
After a lot of porno and very misguided exploration, I found that pleasing one’s self needs no male marketed video of visually painful examples to make one’s own woman happy.
Soon after, impacted by stand-up and too many Hawaiian shirt clad “life of the party”s, I saw just how awful women really have it. The never ending male masturbation references (which were fine) accompanied by THEIR never ending jokes about women and shower massagers, and then, later, HOSTING a show and seeing women follow suit with the same bullshit because the male standards of funny, stupid females wanting to get off were/are the only acceptable humility.
Yeah, it made me sick and even more so – really really pissed off. The only way to make fun of ourselves successfully was to laugh at its ridiculousness and pathetic frivolity through the inaccurate pigeon-holed assumptions of another sex’s jest.

I began doing chick masturbation jokes at the theatre.
They fucking flew.

I later began doing them at the paying gig. Though an older crowd, I figured traveling businessmen and Marines have wives they would like to point and laugh at, a rare window into “gusset typing” comic realism. A lot of nervous laughter and collar loosening, but I didn’t give a shit. I got free beer.
Shortly after, also at the Hilton, I was told by a male comic I had introduced that no one wanted to hear a woman say “fuck” or poke fun about poking themselves.
As taboo as it was to come back on after a headliner, I got back up that night and did every nasty joke I had ever written (which was pretty much ALL of them).
I bombed,
but I didn’t care.
I did, though, tell everyone to drive safely.
Oddly enough, after the show, the patronizing prick STILL was trying to sleep with me.


After one of my first ROCKIN’ sets back at Bessie’s after moving to Las Vegas, I had an old college buddy come up to me backstage and remark, “Very funny…, but sexually frustrated much?”
I asked him when was the last time he got laid.
We haven’t talked since.

*******************************
If there were only a cheap, collective, hindsight laser surgery…

I can only assume that it would be less painful than electro-shock and vomit-reversion therapy. Effectiveness is of no concern. At least, you gave it a shot (though you had not much choice). I can see agreeing that 2+2=5 is a quick conversion when you have smoking circles all over your forehead and genitals.

********************************

So the pamphlet wasn’t such a big revelation outside of the southeast. It just struck me that something so innocent and natural could become such an extreme issue of moral struggle. And also, it excluded women – saying again that touching oneself so-called inappropriately was a process that just doesn’t apply to inverted genitalia.
The audacity to leave pussy out of any subject should have some penance of its own.

I also thought it interesting that self-bondage could be a solution to not wanting to pleasure myself. That’s certainly not the message the pornography I have suggests. It also gives one an excuse to yell, “Ah-HA! I was really left-handed ALL ALONG!”
without actually having to own a sword.

The idea of the body as a temple is very familiar. It’s what I was given and all I’ve got.
I should respect the only physical possession I’m allowed. Makes total sense, but I don’t. Don’t know of anyone I know personally that does… consistently.

I used to get onto Tripp’s case that if he really respected himself, he would not pollute his temple with smoke.
Then I remember being more disheartened with him for standing on the side of the road holding up a sign that said, “Abortion Kills Children.”
When we,…sorry…
When I had a scare,
I saw no picketing.

I’m a smoker now.

The phrase, “Slap mah fro” also left a big impression. At first, I thought of it as extremely racist. Strangely enough not coming to this conclusion on my own, it was Sherry that pointed out that it makes for a very hilarious masturbation reference.

**Aside – I was in Boulder, Colorado smoking on a roof of a bar (the only place you could smoke at a bar in Boulder, Colorado) and the sound of a car crashing into metal echoed across Hill Street. The girl that had driven us there in a Jeep turned to us and said, “I better check my beast.” She went over to the edge of the roof to survey any damage. I turned to my friend and said, “Oh, she meant the Jeep! I thought it was a euphemism for going to the bathroom!” I would have given her more credit if it had been. ***

Slap mah fro!

Of course, no “honky jibe” was really weird too. (Though spelled wrong.)

Maybe “slap mah fro” was intended to be a way of expressing: “Well, hit my forehead, I shouldn’t be touching the only physical possession I own!”
What a silly bastard am I!

Who knows? I am transfixed by its hilarious implications as well as its sudden application to EVERYTHING.

There we are. I can now agree with the acid trippin’ hippy trying to explain the Phish lyrics. “Dude, it totally means what you WANT it to mean.”
Well, slap mah fro! He turned out to be right after all.

*Yet even another 2003 revision of an old ideal.
As I climb higher, the scattered glass below slowly evolves shard by shard into diamonds…
While the silver lined cliffs ahead keep turning out to be tin foil.
(thanks again eso)*


I’m a little concerned that giving one’s self an orgasm could possibly even fund counter instruction beyond increasing the size of the smile and pleasure it brings. The fact that anyone even gives a shit…

The description that came with the instructions of ejaculation was that it was a natural process to be expelled by the body itself unconsciously because of the excessive amounts produced. The damnation results from intentionally causing an emission because it is not for the purpose of procreation.

Belching is a natural process. It is a form of build up and release that aids digestion.
I’ve never heard of eternal warnings of sinful belching.
Not of hormonal origin, but a function that also expels naturally for a reason and if induced: guaranteed a great party trick. (Same as masturbation actually)
A good fake burp does not further the process of digestion, but I’ve yet to see literature addressing my wavering piety as a result.
If there was, I’d probably do it more.
Feeling guilty about it adds a little spark to its execution. Wow.

As I’ve said MANY times: Anyone who thinks belching is disgusting, just can’t do it well.

Though I never thought about it before, I suppose I feel the same about masturbating.
*************

Maybe leaving women out of the wrist slapping keeps their curiosity of mono-ecstasy at bay with the façade that they are superior to this evil temptation. Gotta hand out the credit there. Smart tactic either way.
1) If women’s jacking off doesn’t exist, then it must be wrong.
2) If men have so much trouble with its suppression, then they are weaker than women– sweet fodder for a chick to chew on while cooking a meal hopefully tasty enough for him to thank the hell out of her. (A small hope that the throbbing will be quelled if the man is served satisfactorily – even then there is no absolute- better luck with the pot pie tomorrow for a decent release)

At least men have it a little easier, you are allowed full reign over your internal processes. I have numerous male government officials roaming around my uterus every couple of months posting memorandum upon memorandum that they have full executive decision of its contents. My power of attorney over my own flesh, blood, and tissue is revoked because a bunch of aging limp dicks can get away with using democracy as a tool to control women. “Sorry, ladies, making decisions is too much a burden. Raising a child by yourself is what we think God would approve of. So, it’s right because we think so. Plus what’s the small price of being a single mother compared to what we believe will happen to you if you don’t. Really, there’s nothing to it. All you do is… well, you… - It’s just right damnit or we’ll through you in jail until you understand that we know what’s best. You raise, we rule. It’s the law.”
Basing self-appointed dictatorship over a gender from selectively picking ULTIMATE LAW from a book that cannot be classified into fiction or non-fiction makes me a little skeptical of blindly and involuntarily relinquishing my reproductive freedom. Yet I pay every fucking check to fund this federal moral crusade into my womb. I am, by law, required to pay for my own pillage.
I have no choice.
Yeah, men have it a little easier.

Although there is a large difference between what we are put through, what we put ourselves through, what actual obstacles there are, and what ones we give ourselves, everyone has their own entrance and exit. It’s all a matter of recognizing what of yourself changes with circumstance, and what never will.

Sometimes it’s a surprise.

Missing the Moon reinstated: 11/9/03

I checked the time.
I was early.

I did not get a second chance.

Some things are powerful enough to eclipse the entire universe itself.

Nothing else could exist tonight. All earthly and celestial entities evaporated in its wake.
Exposed because I have no place for it to go. There never had to be one before.
So it will just sit there... all else held captive.

Even if I had caught her dark beauty, I'm not so sure that I would have been able to remember to be thankful.


I only hope you saw it.

I hope you saw us both smiling back.


If not, don't worry.
I told the sun to give you a good rise.

He owes you one.

ECLIPSE

MSN article :
“To an astronaut standing on the moon during totality, the sun would be hidden behind a dark Earth outlined by a brilliant red ring consisting of all the world’s sunrises and sunsets.”


She watches all the days born and burn, never having to wait impatiently for the next one. All the beginnings and endings simultaneously rolling over the Earth, she possesses a gift: not ever having to let go of one for the other.
She will see them brought together again tonight as we pass by in a bright red circle.


The two lunar eclipses I’ve seen have all occurred right before something wonderful.
The first in Kansas on the balcony of a hotel, I beamed back before continuing on the way to my future.
The second, I stepped out of the theatre to gape and felt that unidentifiable elation that sneaks up on you with no purpose or reason. That bubbling inner excitement that slowly begins in your stomach then spreads tingling throughout your body wanting to leap out of your skin.
The next night I learned why it was there.


I will be sure to thank her again tonight.

Well, slap mah fro.

I had a piece of fried chicken for each of you today.
Keyboard lickin' good.

It was just that kind of day.

I hope tomorrow's that kind of day too.

Okay, that's it.

I'm totally doing a drunk blog site.

Such a familiar feeling. I thought it had died a long time ago.
I couldn’t remember the last time I was happy to see you.
Smiling through the glass, I knew we were both very surprised it was there.
As my feet came off the floor, surprised we had both missed it.
Catching up, I saw that what was happening was what had happened. It was so clear.
The entire conversation was the entire relationship.
We were great friends thrown together by circumstance and clung together out of fear – nothing else. There was nothing else. There was never anything else.
We tried so hard to change what we had into what we thought it should be.
Only to find after so much pain and hatred, that the friendship could not die.


And you got fat.
That was nice, too.


I still want my money.

Hey gorgeous,

Apparently not too many people are trying to kill the president. Along with investigating counterfeit money, the secret service has now teamed up with Microsoft to try to find the assholes that sent out the Blaster viruses.
$250,000.00 reward.

Yeah, I thought you'd like that.

A FEW TIPS ON MASTURBATION FROM OUR FRIENDS AT BRINGHAM YOUNG:

1. In very severe cases it may be necessary to tie a hand to the bed frame with a tie in order that the habit of masturbating in a semi-sleep condition can be broken. This can also be accomplished by wearing several layers of clothing which would be difficult to remove while half-asleep.
2. During your toilet and shower activities leave the bathroom door or shower curtain partly open, to discourage being alone in total privacy. Take cool brief showers.
3. Arise immediately in the mornings. Do not lie in bed awake, no matter what time of day it is.
4. Make a pocket calendar for a month on a small card. Carry it with you, but show it to no one. If you have a lapse of self-control color that day black. Your goal will be to have no black days. The calendar becomes a strong visual reminder of self-control and should be looked at when you are tempted to add another black day. Keep your calendar up until you have at least three clear months.
5. If you are associated with other persons having this same problem, YOU MUST BREAK OFF THEIR FRIENDSHIP. Never associate with other people having the same weakness. Don't suppose that two of you will quit together, you never will. You must get away from people of that kind. Just to be in their presence will keep your problem foremost in your mind. The problem must be taken OUT OF YOUR MIND for that is where it really exists. Your mind must be on other and more wholesome things.
6. When you bathe, do not admire yourself in a mirror. Never stay in the bath more than five or six minutes--just long enough to bathe and dry and dress AND THEN GET OUT OF THE BATHROOM into a room where you will have some member of your family present.
7. If the temptation seems overpowering while you are in bed, GET OUT OF BED AND GO INTO THE KITCHEN AND FIX YOURSELF A SNACK, even if it is in the middle of the night, and even if you are not hungry, and despite your fears of gaining weight. The purpose behind this suggestion is that you GET YOUR MIND ON SOMETHING ELSE. You change the subject of your thoughts, so to speak.

*******
So, I'll be overweight with no friends. That should definitely make it easier for someone else to have sex with me.

Get this: there is actually a "jive" version of this pamphlet for the youngsters, 'cuse me, yungstas.
*********
1. Make some pocket calendar fo' some mond on some small card. Carry it wid ya', but show it t'no one. If ya' gots some lapse uh self-cuntrol colo' dat day brother. Yo' goal gots'ta be t'have no brother days. De calendar becomes some strong visual reminda' of self-cuntrol and should be looked at when ya' is tempted t'add anoda' black day. Slap mah fro! Keep yo' calendar down until ya' gots at least dree clear monds.
2. Durin' yo' toilet and showa' activities leave da damn badroom doo' o' showa' curtain partly open, t'discourage bein' along in total privacy. Slap mah fro! Snatch waaay coo' brief showers.
3. Arise immediately in de mo'nin's. Do not honky jibe in bed awake, no matta' whut time uh day it is. Get down and do sump'n. Start each day wid an endusiastic activity. Slap mah fro!
4. Keep yo' bladda' empty. Slap mah fro! Refrain fum drinkin' large amounts uh fluids befo'e retirin'.
5. Reduce da damn amount uh spices and condiments in yo' food. Eat lightly as possible at night. Man!
6. Wear pajamas dat is difficult t'open, yet loose and not bindin'.
7. Avoid sucka's, situashuns, pictures o' eyeballin' materials dat might create sexual 'sitement. Man!
8. It be sometimes helpful t'have some physical object t'use in overcomin' dis problem. WORD! A Scribblin' uh Mo'mon, firmly held in hand, even in bed at night gots proven helpful in 'estreme cases.
9. In real severe cases it may be necessary t'tie some hand t'de bed frame wid some tie in o'da' dat da damn habit uh masturbatin' in some semi-sleep condishun kin be bugger'd. Dis kin also be accomplished by wearin' several layers uh clodin' which would be difficult to remove while half-asleep. Jes hang loose, brud.
*********

Honky jibing is bad for you, suckas.
Slap mah fro?


Word.

GEEZ!

Anyway, I took a diet pill yesterday. It did the trick. I didn’t eat much, but it made me look old. My eyes were all red and strung out looking. Interesting. I don’t particularly like the age I look now, so fuck it, I’ll wear big pants.

I remember reading more than once a question posed in women’s magazines. A survey was taken where a group of chicks was asked if they would rather be 10 pounds lighter or 10% smarter. The majority always went for the weight loss. Sad really, but once I really thought about it I wasn’t so sure. I would hands down take the intelligence. One can always lose weight. But then again, one can always learn more. I guess it’s just a mere question of which one do you actually trust yourself to accomplish.

I celebrated a girlfriend’s good news last night. It’s 9:00 am and I’ve had 3 sodas and a package of bacon. Uh, Atkin’s, yeah, that’s it.

Best Halloween in about 10 years!

I cried, I laughed, I ROCKED!!!!!

A metal band complete with castle, swords, and fog machines all in someone's backyard.
After every song the lead singer would thrust the sword into the night and scream "GOODNIGHT LAAS VEGAAAASSS!" And then sing another song.

You can't have a bad time when the band admits they are drunker than you are.

I did agree with the guitarist's attitudes on buying foreclosed property.

I came home, baked a pie, and woke up on the couch.

It was a great night. I screamed for you all.

Kick ass.

F.- You are Goliath now. We all fear the "finger." - Also, I don't think anyone has Teej's number.

E.- if you ever mention fat again, I will smother you with my ass cheeks. And it won't be just because I want to - I will HAVE to.

Fat displacement isn't a new concept for most of us.
Be thankful you actually have something bony!

Happy Halloween, my sweets!

Here it is the day of and I have not yet decided on a costume. I have some old ones lying around, sure. I've got a sidewalk, the "highway to hell," and the ever easy and comfortable - redneck (really jammin' HeeHaw overalls). But I think I'm gonna go with the pimp. I haven't gotten much wear out of my oversized red velvet hat, would like to know what I look like with a pencil-thin moustache, as well as haven't had a decent cigar in a while.

I also believe that repetitively yelling, "where's my MONEY, BITCH?!" will help exorcize some old all hallow's demons.

The only anniversary this year will be one of a damn good time.

Cheers, ghouls!

Thank you, Erica, for the much needed distraction.

Everything was smaller then. Height, life expectancies, and I heard Jefferson was hung like a...(whoops! wrong blog). An increased knowledge of medicine, nutrition, and "you might want to rinse off that saw, Mr. Barber" is a contributing factor. That and the growing popularity of basketball, their players, and the women who are molested by them.

Also, in that time period there was a lot of body conformity going on. All those early 1900s chicks were squeezing themselves into corsets. Not only would women past out from not enough air, their rib cages would start to deform and sometimes crack.

Just like Chinese foot and neck binding. Erica, I know you remember those pictures I sent you. The women's feet had been bound at birth to make all the toes except the big one curl under the foot so it looked like there was only one small toe at the top. Their shoes were only 3 to 4 inches long. The feet were completely mangled, just for beauty - oh and servitude. They couldn't walk. They had to crawl around on all fours to cook and clean for their husbands.

Unbelievably, I have actually argued about my foot size on more than one occasion. I had been waiting tables, wearing tennis shoes and hippy sandals for a couple years. I went to buy a new pair of heels and told the shoe dude my size. They didn't fit. He said my feet had stretched out from wearing loose shoes and that they weren't "in shape" anymore. He wanted me to get the ones that didn't fit because that obviously was the size my feet were supposed to be. I told him that my feet were fine and I wanted shoes that fit the feet I have, not the other way around.
Insanely enough, I mentioned this story to a co-worker/friend and she said yeah, if you wear sandals all the time your feet will spread out and lose their shape. I tried to argue with her using the Chinese foot binding as an example, but she wouldn't have it. What sucks is that not only does she still believe that malarkey, she's still a server with sore soles.

I love my feet. They are my favorite parts of my whole body. If they want to get bigger - then, shine on you crazy diamonds. You may have every long walk on the beach you desire.

Also, I read that our feet and our noses never stop growing.
Sorry, folks, anything else after puberty is merely gravity.

As I force myself to yawn,
I drive home trying to beat Dawn.


Sadness traveling much much faster than the speed of light.

Intentional this time:

He's here, He's sleeping

In a movie theatre.

Soon Happiness soon.

Okay ladies… who’s gonna address these bleeding crotches?

Fine.

It’s a market, that’s all. Obviously a very good one.
You can buy the solutions to all your insecurities in a bottle of bullshit herbs and chemicals. Me? I get all the penis enlargement emails as well as the weight loss ones.
My problem is that I actually have a medicine cabinet full of broken dreams of a smaller stomach.

If you are looking for validation, you won’t get it from me.
I’ve played that game. It’s not one you can win. The truth apparently isn’t the correct answer. Repeated truth is even more ineffectively superfluous.
“It’s fine, honey.” “It’s fine, honey.”
You know what though. It did make me stop asking, “Does this make me look fat?”

I’ve only encountered two that were small. Both guys treated me really shitty.
I’ve only encountered one that was freakishly large. He treated me really shitty too.

Stop worrying so much and don’t be a dick.
There’s not much else you CAN do.

A small rant, I guess:

I've have only had the experience rear it's head recently, yet, it's happened many times before.

My off-handed invitations to have fun have been bombarded with lies and excuses in the form of very weak apologies.

It's a fucking BBQ, people.

If you can't come, then you can't come.

Where did I go wrong? Where in my personality funds someone having to apologize to me for maybe not having a good time with already made plans to have a possible greater time?
I would always take the better opportunity, but I don't think that fibbing would be necessary.

"I'm going somewhere with new people that might be a show opportunity, new contacts, to get laid, free gas" whatever, whatever, ... ANYTHING - that's you, honey.
I'd do it too. But I wouldn't lie.

Cheap beer, a grill, horseshoes, and my man, ... you think that would ever NOT be fun.

I don't need lies or excuses. When I hear a lie, I know it, and I feel it.
It stinks, but I do.
When I don't, it's even more nuts.
Only the macadamians really know, but they'll never tell.

I listen to a lie and feel: what did I do to make this person feel that they can't be honest with me?

Where did I fuck up enough to have others think that falsehoods placate?
Being forced into a situation where I either have to pretend I'm as stupid as they give me credit for to believe such a bad story or just smile and hope it ends quickly.


GEEZ, I was only being nice.

W!
I am still in that dimension.

Everything is in parenthesis.

Around the Lake again

I stopped to look at a car carrier to figure out if the mechanics would rise up to allow two more cars on the bottom. The steel and enormous, hydraulic pistons didn’t look like they matched up, so I stood there and tried to figure it out. Okay, boring, I know.

Tiny things please tiny…

well, it was HUGE,
so….

Alright.

That's the problem Teej. After 12, I'm using my WHOLE ass.

"You Enjoy Myself" - Phish

Okay, this is the story a head told me about 12 or so years ago. The lyrics were written on a backpacking trip some of the members had taken across Europe. They were tired and took a taxi to Firenzie. The driver smelled so bad that the lyrics, "Wash your feet and drive me to Firenzie," were born.

I had another hippy friend (on acid at a show) tell me, "Duude, the lyrics aren't the point. They are whatever you WANT them to be." That just wasn't good enough.

Today, I found this:

Official Answer: As published in the guitar tablature for YEM in Guitar World, they're saying ""wash uffize drive me to firenze".
Intentional Confuson? The line was originally thought to be "wash your feet then drive me to a frenzy." It's now generally understood as "wash uffitzi, drive me to Firenze" (pronounced Fuh-wren-zhee), referring to Trey and Jon's trip to Europe as wandering minstrels in the summer of 1985 (living in a car, thus the stinky feet), including stops in Florence, Italy (Firenze, to Italians). Page & Trey (March 92, Colorado) wouldn't fess up, but admitted that it was in two different languages. Uffizi (prounounced by Phish as "you-feet-zee", with an added "t" sound) is part of Florence (Firenze), near the Ponte Vecchia most known for the Uffizi Gallery (alt), formerly the offices of the wealthy & powerful Medici family. (The Italian word for "offices" is "ufficio". Thomas Wuensch) (To note, "Frenisi" is the name of an Artie Shaw tune, not "Firenze" or &Firensi".)
Origins in Idioms? From Brian Snyder: After the Mann summer show in '92, a friend... in Murphy's in West Philadelphia... band was in there havin' a few beers and playing pinball. Apparently Fishman's grandparents live near Penn or something. Anyway, Frank asked Trey what was up with You Enjoy Myself. Trey and Mike told him they had been hanging out with a couple Italians who couldn't speak English very well. When the foreigners left, they said "You enjoy myself, yes?" I think it was supposed to mean "wishing you the best." Anyhow, they all started laughing and somehow came up with the song. The Italians were from Florence, which in Italian is called "Firenze." Aside from the cathedral, the most famous thing in Florence is a museum called "Uffizi." Anyhow, Frank told me that Trey told him that what they sing is "Wash Uffizi, drive me to Firenze." But then listen to the 10/31/95 YEM, when the words are slowed down until distinctly can be heard "Wash Your Feet and drive me toooooo..... firenze"

My version wasn't too far off, but that's the facts.

Thanks Frank!

ugh.
drinking and blogging seems such a great idea at the time...

Joel's right, Frank.

Sounds kind of pathetic, I guess, but I'm happy and anxious and that doesn't, so I'm cool.

Nice to see that I wasn't the only one doing a little "altered" blogging last night.

Cheers!

Stupid fucking business internet.
delete DAMNIT!

delete
delete
delete!

Time will fuck with you if you let it. I do. Every fucking day.

What freaks me the most - is that no matter what we do or say -

the fun WILL stop - your choice to have it will be taken away from you -

what will YOU remember?

You'll have nothing, but your memory.

What will you remember? What will you have?
What will you have as you are flipped, wiped, and fed?


Forget me. Forget whatever the fuck you want.

But it will stop.

When time consumes you what will you cling to?

I only hope

it's something

good enough.

everything that is too stupid to say ... is sung

Of course, I looked at one of the links Sherry posted.
Top 20 dicks, of course, I looked.
That was it though.
My last boyfriend used to look up photos of people who had shot themselves, died in car accidents, etc. on the same computer of the boyfriend prior that got busted for accessing child pornography websites.
Faces of Death. Gee, that hasn't come up in years. I had seen the first one. The only two parts of it of which I was most disturbed were the harming of a monkey and some seals. I don't know what that means. I dated a marine in college. He and his roommate would drop acid and watch a whole marathon of them (I think there are 8). This was also the same guy that shot and killed their neighbor's cat, skinned it in the bathtub, boiled it, and tried to invite me over for dinner to serve it as "possum" to me as a joke.

A lot of my limits have been handed to me.

I have had morbid fascinations in the past. I followed the Martha Moxley trial of Michael Skakel. Read every book, clipping, reports having to do with it. I also did the same thing with the Columbine incident (long before the movie). I found all the events leading up to it, the transcriptions of their home videos, the actual timed events, routes, testimonies, and also, the suicide photo. I can't explain why. Maybe I wanted to understand the motive for such futility. I didn't achieve it. It is hard for me to think that was something that happened for a reason.

I don't ponder death much. Well, not my own. A few times when I was much younger, but it had little to do with mortality and afterlife - only immaturity. I only know that there are many things I want to do before it happens to me, naturally or unexpectedly. Whatever is after is whatever is after.
I better get hoppin'.

Sunday Stroll

I was walking out of the complex and saw an abandoned pink tricycle. I live on a busy street and it was on the exit side of the entrance facing into the apartment complex. It was an uncomfortable mystery.

On the other side of the lake, I looked up and saw a really cute chick walking toward me. I thought she had headphones on, but once closer, she was talking on a cell phone attached to her head. I lapped a granny in the slow lane and she commented on the nice day. I said back that I wished I owned a cellphone so I could call someone and tell them about it.

Closer to home, another damn dog, by itself, no owner. This one was some schnauzer/terrier mix. We were close to houses and it wasn't trying to run out in the street. It looked heavy, and it wasn't friendly. I passed. I'll get the next one.

A potentially strange situation turned into an oil burning of openness and reflection, mending very old, very unnecessary wounds. It never needed words for me. Sincerity says everything, always. It travels faster than sound through my soul. Yet hearing the words, the soft apology, and seeing the relief, did make it more pleasant. The capture of emotion with diction pins it to a memory that is easily written and not ever easily forgotten.


***
I know the pursuit of happiness is never an easy one. Not everyone is strong enough to turn over the stone. Though most are unfortunate enough to wish they had.
If it's not there, at least... you know.
Don't dig.

As selfish as we all are and, apparently, take immense pride in, we go nowhere. Alone? Never. I will not stop singing until you know.
I will not stop singing even when you do.
***

Though soon to unconsciousness, I retreat - knowing - it will not be a wasted day.

I had a beautiful sunrise. I hope everyone will have such a sunset. If not, I will have one for you.

I heard you the first time.

I just wanted

to hear it again.







Bright blue light through the blinds caught me as I went to bed.

I stepped outside and thanked the moon.

"I think critics are the reincarnation of the mobs that killed Christ."
- Lead blues guitarist for Electric Mud

THE EVER WEIGHTY ISSUE

I concur. I've had the weight problem all my life. Just a window into my attempt to get busy on it today.

I had about an hour to trek around the lake on a beautiful day. I slapped on tennys, spf 15 and aborted myself from the apt. I got past the "other" theatre and the entrance to the lake, and suddenly saw a dog shaking and pissing on the trees. Assuming it was with someone, I approached with no concern. Once I was upon it, I realized that it was alone. There are no houses, only busy streets, and this piss happy pooch. Cute booger. A pomeranian/keshound mix. I continue the walk with a watchful eye and some "good for you"s - hey, I'd rather have him happy to pee than running out in front of traffic. I figured I'd doggysit until the next neighborhood checkpoint, thinking he'd run in and that would be it. He was happy to pee and wait, get too close to the road and jump back when I said "don't you EVEN," and run a little ahead to make sure there were more smells to drown and come back to make sure I was still in charge. Adorable little fucker. We hit the next entrance. No luck.
I finally check his tag. No address except for the animal hospital 1/2 mile back. Yeah, not smart on my part, but he wasn't running so it didn't occur to me that he might be an escapee. Slowly changing direction wasn't an option. He had already saturated what we had covered. I had to pick him up. No fight, mind you. It was hot and even I needed water without draining my pungencies every two inches.
I carried that little shit a 1/2 mile. You know, 25 pounds really doesn't sound like that much until you have to cradle it for 20 minutes covered in wet, piss soaked fur in really fucking hot weather. Two cops with their windows down would not stop. Three security guards would not stop. One extremely pretentious bike rider on a cellphone shouting loudly about the atrocity of Lake Mead's water quality (like it was a concept created by his helmet-shaped brain) would not stop. Thank goodness for ill placed transformers.
Gasping, sweating, hunched, cramped, and in the middle of the road, I could not even get speeding patrons from the fucking convenient store to pause for me to get across the double yellow line. I finally threw both of our lives in danger and just kept going. If I didn't drop off this smelly, moist runaway, we were going to both be in need of medical attention. I'd rather get hit trying, then pass out waiting for the opportunity.
Funny, I had two trucks stop for me right in front of the hospital. One to ask me where Burger King was, and the other to tell me I was cute. They both served enough purpose to take away the last wheezes I had to guffaw-iggle. I'd never get into any strange vehicle, much less, in a case of need, to ask only, "Could you just back us up 10 feet?"
I approached the hospital entrance only to have a scrub-clad smoker tell me I was going in the wrong door. I told her to kiss my ass, but if she had another to wait 2 minutes.
The cat portion was collectively as unhappy for the new addition, as I was to still be holding it. Both panting and drooling, I tried to form the words. The poof poof expelled through my dried, cracked lips could not communicate, "Please take this heavy bastard!" I could only drop to my knees, arms dejecting their cargo, then feebly attempt to point and pantomime with jello joints: "Does he belong (innnnhaaaalllle) here!?"
After running the gamut of names they thought might fit and my new bud pissing on a couple of cat carriers, they checked the badge and confirmed. He lived right up the street. Thank you.
The dim witted smoker from earlier entered on this exchange and said, "Yeah, he's so sweet! Just don't let ever let him go!"
No shit, iron lung.
She swept him up in her arms, said she would take care of him, and I didn't need to hang around. I pulled myself up by the door handle, and shouted back staggering, "He's heavier than he looks!"
I came home.
I called to leave my number for the owners to tell them that he wasn't trying to run away. He just wanted to get out and pee on everything.
There was no need for my info.
He had already been picked up... by the nanny.

So, I did try to workout today.

I did.

It is never that often that I have good reason not to.

I have, at least, learned just how far I can carry weight and still mime.

Good lesson.

If it comes up again, I think the laughter would be a decent warmup to really push myself.

I've just lost interest this week. I assume it's a fleeing consumption of general disinterest. It happens every now and then. I just can't force enthusiasm. Everything seems to be pelting me and rolling away. I could absorb and react, if I wanted, I suppose. The inertia of importance and futility are not balancing in my personal ledger these days. I'm tired. I guess too tired to attempt to muster up the will to really give a shit. I'm not hungry. I'm not thirsty. I don't crave. I don't want to connect. I don't need. Hell, I don't even want this cigarette.
Yeah, I'm lonely, who isn't. But, fuck it all, I'm tired.
I'm tired of being slack, pointing a finger, waiting for myself to kick in and go go go. I can certainly see the appeal of stagnation. Unfortunately, dealing with that takes more effort than putting off what I really want. Excuses are hard work to maintain and even more difficult to transform into truth. Sucks either way, I've done both many times.
Right now, I want neither.
Depression, no. I don't feel that. Monotone, yeah, that's probably closer. What is it worth? What is the point? What function are these things serving? Having the answers to the questions are more tiresome than not.
Yeah, it's a bummer, maybe, but I'm not bummed. Just a general brush off reflection of my surroundings as of late. My feelings have little to do with my actions. Maybe that is where the looming disconnection is seeping in from. Who knows. I'd ask who cares, but it's pointless when even I don't. I'd probably stop typing this second, if I felt like rising.
It is impossible to reason away that I don't want what I want when I can't make the decision unless I have it first. Chiding myself for avoiding the pursuit has pulled in all the energy from the pursuit itself. Yeah, it makes little sense. I feel a little ashamed that I've put myself in the forefront for telling others they shouldn't do the same. That has to be why I identify with all the similarities I see around me. I won't give up on the possibility that I will change things (whether I do or not), but it is much easier to be someone else's cheerleader. It is an easy thing to see but a hard thing to address: I can solve the problems of the universe more effectively and eagerly than I care to my own. I only wish I could say that relates only to how disengaged I feel at this moment, but I have no reason to lie. It's there, I'll take it, but the procrastination must be too sweet a fodder for self berating. Up until now, the pursuit only resulted from boasting myself into irrevocable corners, and later, finding that I just couldn't take it anymore. Is that where I am now? Somewhere in between. Circumstances aren't dire enough to break me out of self-loathing and into an uncertain, immediate leap into the projected fate? Who fucking knows. I do know that when I feel my job is in jeopardy, the first thing I do is look up writing jobs and places to perform stand-up. A strange reaction for someone as self-preservant as I. It should be telling, yet here I type. Something has to change. It has to. Because I'm getting sick of listening to myself. The justifications have long since passed booooring. Hearing myself describe achievements in past tense is as uninteresting to say as, I assume, uninteresting to hear.
From now on, I'm backing off. It is an odd way to see things, but I think it may be possible that the fear of the unknown is less problematic than the fear of the known. Having nothing to grasp may be easier than not grasping what you want. Ignorance without direction is a lot less difficult to explain than why it's there once you know. Not being able to find it sounds more feasible than not taking it.
This is yet another new concept for this year (of many, ms. eso). Not knowing and hoping something would come along, WOULD be so so much easier. But, then again, nothing I've ever done has been. I can only assume nothing I ever will do will be any different.


Though this is a worn, so worn, beaten, and regurgitated subject, I do feel like getting up now.

Sorry, Sherry. Here it is.
Now you know where they go.

10/01/03
I have my share of external complications to turn away from and ignore, yet I continue to engage in incessant internal dialogue addressing ones that haven't happened. I'm not truly arguing with myself. I construct an entire existence where people I know are chiding me or questioning me. Alone at home, walking through the grocery store, pretending that I give a shit at work, I keep going. An alternate existence playing just above the surface of what is real. As I go through my day, people who I see (or foresee) a conflict with are constantly prodding me with hypothetical debates. I look as if I am working, shopping, cleaning, driving, but I'm sorting out my differences with other people I know. It makes very little sense. I've done this for as long as I can remember. Of course, some people replay past memories to satisfy the unsatisfiable urge to tell themselves, "Yeah, THAT'S what I should have said!" Maybe that is where it comes from. This projection of future defenses that may come about. I will be prepared. They never do though. I never am. The challenges are never predictable. I never say what I wished I had later. I'm much more effective when edited. I am only grasping at why this is. Practicing my defenses, my reasons and motives for feeling why I do. It's absurd. My machinations exceed what most people would be brazen enough say (or question). The real ones always knock me over. An acceptable retort to reality rarely happens. Or if they do, I rarely remember them. Unfortunate some can only let go of the truth when blind stinking drunk. (Hey, I'm not pointing fingers. kay?)
Am I just practicing my responses? Or am I justifying myself to myself? It sucks either way. It is a form of planning to be spontaneous or having to convince my own mind of its convictions. I supposed it's not too crazy to doubt my own beliefs. I am a crazy fucker. Analyzing me with me doesn't really do the trick. I get nowhere because I have a hard time taking my own advice that I can so easily force onto others without even seeing the connection. It's a little frightening that I need displacement to talk to myself. Interact with people I know in fictitious conversations in a fictitious scenario. They are real to me. This is what I would do, yeah, that sounds good - that's right. Am I so separated from my own psyche that I must criticize the self from another's perspective, make my thoughts objective, only to find I agree out of defense? Or do I just want to be prepared? If the latter, regurgitated response to negative stimuli I guess could be better than slapping my forehead later and saying, "That's not what I meant at all! fuck." Am I trying to make myself look good, trying to have already established a great verbal stance, or just trying to do damage control for a potential situation that will most likely never happen. Don't know. But it takes most of my time. You all positively challenge me to be creative and progressive as I can't seem to do for myself at times. As appreciative and happy this collage of writing, interactions, and togetherness has brought me. I still sit here, arguing, trying to beat non-existent skepticism.
I hope I can win.

Thank you for telling me first. It would have just been messy. It was a good move.

It is a good move.

Hey, I found it!
The want or wanted response:

9/26/03 12:10 am

It is better to be wanted. That makes everything you’ve been doing or not doing valid. Turning something down reassures you that you are getting closer to narrowing what you don’t want. There are a million ways to try to justify what you have is what you want, but there are few concrete enough to justify what you feel. ”Don’t wants” exceed even time and space, but wants, even at present, are the hardest to locate. Unfortunately, being wanted is never a constant. If you are wanted: there is another possibility or another elimination. If you want, there is another void.

Okay, forget the word muse. So what the fuck are we then?
A group of selfish, self-reliant, creative bastards. There's got to be a better way of putting it.
I do like the word bastard, though.

I ditched. I couldn't go.
I couldn't sit, again, in that smoky bar, slowly watching another person that I care about leave...and be cool. I just couldn't. I know you know.

Live that fortune, baby.
Off to the land of infinite sunrises and sunsets. That endless sky is yours.
Grab it by the fucking balls.

I know you are in a hurry, but if you pass the world's largest prairie dog- stop, for god's sake! And stop every half mile for beef jerky. Also, if you have the means, listen to "where the streets have no name" by U2. It is the moving and driving song.

I'm so proud. I'm so jealous.

Don't ever forget.

I will be here singing.

Go be happy, TJ.

I had responded to the want or wanted. But in the morning decided I didn't like, now I think I do. But it's gone. It was good. To save myself of impossible recollection and recreation: it was to be wanted.

tj's question: Better to have a muse or be one?

Have one. You get the enjoyment of surprising yourself by what you are capable of creating. Being a muse, you just hang out and be flattered that you are inspiring someone. Well, I guess it is how you look at it. If you want to work, get a muse. If you want to be a lazy fuck, be a muse.

I agree. My cat sleeps more than a coma patient. But when I see her motionless, I know she's happy. Does happiness cause paralysis? I wasted a lot of time trying to convince myself that it did. I don't think it does. I also spent that time trying to convince myself that I was happy.
No more, no more

Off to bed- c'mon kitty

"I mean, there's only so much a guy can do with his testicles - in a debating game."
-from "Joe Schmo"

A few words about Joe Schmo:

So it's a little painful, but I do find it entertaining that their fates are sealed with personalized, highly flammable collector's plates.

I hope they all lose.

I opened myself up wide and was surprised to find where my limitations lie. It never occured to me to that they would be there.

I don't think I can quite call in what I was up to last night. I do however think the President of the company would get a big kick out of it.

Personally, I don't think I was created for anyone's fall other than my own.

I don't care what fiction or non-fiction says.

TEST OF FAITH

“Are you telling me you would choose truth over God?”

My answer to this question is yes.

But, on the other hand, how many of you have been driving home after a couple beers and saw a cop?

Were you thinking of the truth
Or were you PRAYIN'?!

Hey TJ, send some of that Monday nougat up to SLC for me.

Giggling incessantly in the smoke and candlelight, I feel the water level get lower as I get larger. Wiping away my tears and cheering beers, I run my dry toes through his wet hair and realize that we are the coolest people on the planet. I tell him so. He agrees.

My mother was right. Beginning with a haiku and palindromes to iambic pentameter, I see my future at the other end of the tub...and it's a lot of fun.

He's here. He's sleeping...

dream naked in a circle

of bright blue balloons.

Thanks for the ride, my wild, dancing horse. The neon sunset would serve you well if only you weren't so afraid. I'll miss what I left you.

i just threw 12 things at my television

Jayc is rarely wrong. Speaking as a woman who has had to talk to the police in a sheet, there is no future,dude. Just have fun.

Please, please...have fun.

I was surprised tonight by a bill. If you don't understand, then get the fuck off my blog.

Annywho, I was face to face with the chick that needed the money. So, I went to the bank machine. It was about 10 feet from her place and a drive up. There were three people in their cars waiting. Hey, I'm in Vegas, if you don't take it - they'll fuck you.

A long wait behind those cars... hot, stinky, hot, ...but it was fucking hilarious.

Funny, it's not the first time I've done that. But in my experience... it's totally funny to those that get to watch and I (all emcompassingly) have the right to yell, "Hurry up, you fuck! Are you applying for a home loan?!"

And still get a laugh.



What only stinks is that I don't like my haircut.


"People are selfish."
So, tell me something that shouldn't be true, Mr. Wilde.


ASIDE
I would like to give dedication out to the girls I hated in Denver. I can see myself (ha!) with you guys in a drive thru at Taco Bell walking through it. You got jeered by cops in the parking lot who were only there to bust drunk drivers on the night of the American Beer Festival. That's why I wasn't there! It was my first night in Colorado, cross country, and I refused to sleep on a couch my first night. You got me a taco. After hearing the story, I WISHED I had been there. I hated Colorado, and today reminded of how strong we are in the face of bullshit. If women would just stop singing, we would all be so much closer together.

I hated Colorado for many reasons. The only one that I see as a problem now is that I left very few positive impressions on women.
aha - ha! I think I just found my first regret!



Thank you, Erica, for everything.

Ah, drinking and blogging...
I’ve learned something tonight
Love yourself, yes – but please pay attention to the people that love you – fantasy is always bullshit – just as I have said to some with discontented long distance relationships or myself with passed loved ones– you create what they are in their absence—I’ve done it many times.
Your memory IS their absence . You love them for what you remember and create from that- but they are…. –

Look at who is there – when something fucked up happens – who is there – who do you tell – whatever that is – whoever that is – is - … is love – whatever you turn to is love – whatever or whoever you see there listening – is love –
The mere mention of something out of the ordinary - he’s on it – and fine with it– I can’t deny that-
I’d be stupid not to-
I’m not saying I don’t still have issues, but the fact that –
you are the person
I talk to every time, every fucking time.
Every time… anything.

I wore nice clothes today. I ran across them last night making room for more. In my every morning haste, I dressed quickly and ran to the truck. The shirt had been placed near the back of the closet. It was one of the hippy shirts that came back for 2 seconds. The weird thing is it smelled, not like B.O. or smoke (or beer) which would have made sense. It smelled like food – like an old dish towel. I can’t put my finger on where that would have come from. It does however set off a memory. The last time I wore this shirt I was doing something bad. The faint, pungent odor, though unfamiliar to the sin, reminds me of it all day. I didn’t think my actions particularly irreverent, but a lot of others would. I was bad. I was very bad. Some secrets don’t make you smile. Even after justifying them with all fact and acceptance, some will still make you wince.

I've finally come to the point where I don't harbor the past negativity within myself. I'm not mad at myself anymore. I'm not blaming myself anymore. I'm blaming HIM! I wouldn't have changed anything. I wouldn't have said anything different. I wouldn't have done anything different...except probably fucked him one last time. I didn't really love him. That prick.

"When going to a party, overdressing is always the key. If you feel out of place, just tell everyone you have someplace better to go after."
-Queer eye for the straight guy

"You need to have security, power, and wealth. 'Cause I can do bad by my goddamn self." - Lil' Kim


"You change too often." - Hallward
"Ah, my dear Basil, that is exactly why I can feel it. Those who are faithful know only the trivial side of love: it is the faithless who know love's tragedies." - Lord Henry
(there is no underline for blog, so) "
The Picture of Dorian Gray" - Oscar Wilde

Knowing this doesn't change circumstance. Only I can (I'm not a fool), but when I come home to myself, embrace my pillow at night, and turn to nothing and say "wasn't that cool?" makes all invalid.
When can the future override the temporal?
It doesn't often enough.

I could stay where I am and be jammin', but it's not good enough for me. I am never good enough for myself.
Why is ambition or at least, the recognition of "betterment" so fucking taboo?
My Outward Bound leader (not a gay camp, mind you) said that you should never be comfortable with stability. In the woods, I accepted that. I still do.

I don't really know what my point was other than I'm frustrated.
I've been hurt, I've compromised, I've dealt, and I still ache, still strive, still want...

Something.

I think I'll get it.

What choice do I have?

Note to bad sitcom writer: Not everything autobiographical is funny. When it's ripping off everything already done, it belongs in a cliche not in a show. We don't care that you're a sad little man. We care that you don't realize you suck... and you're a sad little man that doesn't know he sucks. You are lucky people pay you. Leave it at that. IF your life is a cliche, please treat it as such. That just may make the experience more funny for the viewer, but I doubt it.

The later you stay up the more you learn. The later you sleep the more you forget.

I actually stayed up so late last night that I enrolled in Las Vegas College.

Unsent letter

What I am writing you now means nothing to now. Trust me. Please understand, I just want you to know. This is not for closure. I hate that fucking word. “Closure” is for people who still want to get laid and can’t deal. This is not that. I just felt that you should know.

I know why we made the choices we did. Whatever it meant to you is what it meant to you. I was in love then, and I still am…with the memory. And that’s what it is – a memory. It took me a long time to have an epiphany. This still changes nothing.

In Ireland, I would have dropped out of college at one word from you – you know that. I remember the conversation that I had with you in Clifton. You said in the booth across from the Swedish guy and his British girl “What am I going to do? Marry you? Move there and be a janitor?” – Those were some good sandwiches.

And then New Year’s Eve in Belfast, bending me against the counter begging me to move to Nottingham to be with you.

And then last night we were together. “You know how we both feel about each other.”

And I also remember the sound of your voice when I told you that I wasn’t coming to London after I graduated.

I had made the decision too. For me - I would graduate, make up a another major to continue college so I could have a student visa to live 2 hours away with no transportation from a guy who could not say he loves me.

These are the things I remember.

Funny, how an epiphany can come so late.

You would have been miserable in Wilmington, as I had grown to be, once I graduated.

I could have never moved to London. Though I was going to, I loved you so much. I did pay for the enrollment and was accepted, but I can’t think of any other option now other than the one that I had taken. Maybe I didn’t go because I was afraid. But I do remember asking myself , “Am I willing to change everything for someone who can’t tell me he loves me?”

What were the choices though?

You would have been a janitor in North Carolina or I would have been (yet again) a waitress in London. We would have hated and resented each other either way. Of course, we are where we are now. That is what was supposed to happen. I have no regrets ever. It was just nice to finally let go of the fantasy and see it for what it would have turned out to be. Why it took so long? I wish I could give it more dignity than I couldn’t let it go.

I’ve had nothing that I haven’t compared to you. I never will. The only person that can beat you is the one that stays.

What we had (to me) was torn apart by circumstance and I would assume unconscious wisdom, but I will never forget it.

And I don’t try.

I've changed my mind.
"Why, does it work better?"
-Mae West

"Nothing makes one so vain as being told one's a sinner." - Oscar Wilde

The "why not" is outweighing the "why." But, of course, the "why" is because I care, so that trumps the "why not", right? So, why is it not?

I love and have loved many people without consequence or exception, but I can never remember fucking without them.

"I invited you because I thought you would have a good time and I'm NOT sleeping with you."
Why not?
"Because I want to have a good time."