In true Deanne fashion, I am putting off a million things I should be doing in order to click a bit, though also strangely unfashionable, as I have begun without any prior intention or subject.
Wow, either chalk it up to severe procrastination to unmerited tasks, or possibly the need to read new posts has exceeded the needless recording of random unimportant bullshit that I already know.
Ah ha! SAVED from the embarrassment of the stream-of-consciousness early morning edit!
Just got a call to go pick up some balls and score!
Hey, doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure that one out.
Even by sloppy deduction, the rest of my night either involves
really hard drugs,
a really cheap date with a masochist,
or bowlin' with the bumpers up.
And you guessed right!
All are true, but I'm just in it for the shoes really...
oh, and the beer...
okay, and maybe to finally see Joel's wardrobe in it's natural habitat.
Wednesday, December 22, 2004
I cried four times out of ecstatic happiness.
Once for Dena - it turned bright blue paisley as I held onto why she would have been so happy and uttering, "We're soo lucky."
Twice for my girl - through the center of a neon pink star I held up and that is why his name is Thomas.
Thrice for us - glowing green and yellow bounced off every mirror of our center room into past, present, and future.
And the last, overcome by the depth of connection and love, all encompassingly red as I laid back and answered a question with, "I am VERY fine."
Thank you.
very fine
Once for Dena - it turned bright blue paisley as I held onto why she would have been so happy and uttering, "We're soo lucky."
Twice for my girl - through the center of a neon pink star I held up and that is why his name is Thomas.
Thrice for us - glowing green and yellow bounced off every mirror of our center room into past, present, and future.
And the last, overcome by the depth of connection and love, all encompassingly red as I laid back and answered a question with, "I am VERY fine."
Thank you.
very fine
Saturday, December 11, 2004
Wednesday, December 08, 2004
Thanks, wyrd.
Last Thursday, as I was talking to Eso during an anxiety attack, I told her if there were a stick I could pee on to test my sanity, I'd stare the pink lines longer than any EPT.
********
On that note, they are coming out with a pregnancy test where the results are shown as "Pregnant" or "Not Pregnant."
I yelled at the TV (as I occasionally do), "That's ridiculous!"
Joel agreed. He said that's just as fallible as anything else. There would be partial word shown, blurred, or nothing. Very true.
I agreed too, but for a different reason.
Not too pleased that women are viewed as so stupid, they can't figure out a one or two line result key and need it spelled out for them.
Thanks, but the reason we check, stare, read the instructions, and double, triple check isn't out of ignorance - it's because WE THINK WE MAY BE FUCKING PREGNANT.
We're not dumb, just wanna make DAMN sure of what we scored - ESPECIALLY if we don't get the answer we're pulling for.
Anyway, if women are stupid enough to possibly get knocked up in the first place, my guess is promoting literacy isn't quite the optimal solution.
Ah, well.
"Read up, preggos!" That's what I'll always never say.
Or "Booties, knock 'em and knit 'em" that Sheryl Crow lyric of yore that has yet to be shrilled. Can't wait.
Can't fucking wait, you tone deaf strumming cunt. That stalker should have taken you out while he had the chance or at least shoved his dick in your mouth to give us all two seconds of peace. And I want Lance back - he might still be able to salvage some cool.
Sorry, I digress. As I am getting back in touch with stand-up, I am vividly reminded of the, ugh, now 13 year old declaration of why I wanted to become famous in the first place:
So I could meet Sheryl Crow...
and punch her right in the face.
Go women!
Oh, and by the way, wyrd. Congrads on the "Woman in Mind!" Good to see my boys back together. I'd give advice, but you know as well as I, you won't be able to keep them in line, or straight, or clothed, so enjoy and I'll see you in the proverbial cast party hottub!
Go women!
Last Thursday, as I was talking to Eso during an anxiety attack, I told her if there were a stick I could pee on to test my sanity, I'd stare the pink lines longer than any EPT.
********
On that note, they are coming out with a pregnancy test where the results are shown as "Pregnant" or "Not Pregnant."
I yelled at the TV (as I occasionally do), "That's ridiculous!"
Joel agreed. He said that's just as fallible as anything else. There would be partial word shown, blurred, or nothing. Very true.
I agreed too, but for a different reason.
Not too pleased that women are viewed as so stupid, they can't figure out a one or two line result key and need it spelled out for them.
Thanks, but the reason we check, stare, read the instructions, and double, triple check isn't out of ignorance - it's because WE THINK WE MAY BE FUCKING PREGNANT.
We're not dumb, just wanna make DAMN sure of what we scored - ESPECIALLY if we don't get the answer we're pulling for.
Anyway, if women are stupid enough to possibly get knocked up in the first place, my guess is promoting literacy isn't quite the optimal solution.
Ah, well.
"Read up, preggos!" That's what I'll always never say.
Or "Booties, knock 'em and knit 'em" that Sheryl Crow lyric of yore that has yet to be shrilled. Can't wait.
Can't fucking wait, you tone deaf strumming cunt. That stalker should have taken you out while he had the chance or at least shoved his dick in your mouth to give us all two seconds of peace. And I want Lance back - he might still be able to salvage some cool.
Sorry, I digress. As I am getting back in touch with stand-up, I am vividly reminded of the, ugh, now 13 year old declaration of why I wanted to become famous in the first place:
So I could meet Sheryl Crow...
and punch her right in the face.
Go women!
Oh, and by the way, wyrd. Congrads on the "Woman in Mind!" Good to see my boys back together. I'd give advice, but you know as well as I, you won't be able to keep them in line, or straight, or clothed, so enjoy and I'll see you in the proverbial cast party hottub!
Go women!
Today
I learned what the word jeopardy truly means.
The second time that I could have lost everything,
he let me win...
again.
There are a million things I need to write, but I do want to respond to Annette.
You mentioned a run-in with your ex, sounds like a real fuckhead, since you still have resentment. Don't like people messin' with my girls and anyone that knows me will testify that one.
Joel said something tonight that resonnated very strongly.
In all my past relationships, this is the first that I have no problem with their past lovers. Always something that triggered extreme negativity had no bearing when I met Joel. I just chalked it up to finally being confident enough within a relationship that I wasn't threatened.
I guessed wrong.
As we decorated our X-Mas tree, Joel said that we got so lucky with our past relationships because without them:
we wouldn't have this.
And he couldn't be more right.
I wouldn't trade a single second, no matter how bad I had it or how good he did,
for what this is. And I am indebtedly thankful to all those that came before us. They gave me the rest of my life. One so incredible that I can only hope they get second chance to find. I honestly do.
So, though valiant of MLC, it wouldn't be out of bounds to unclench the fist for a moment and instead shake the hands of that list of fools that let him have a woman like you.
I have my life back again.
Thank you, girls.
Thank you, Joel.
thank you, Deanne
goodnight deanne
good, good morning deanne
I learned what the word jeopardy truly means.
The second time that I could have lost everything,
he let me win...
again.
There are a million things I need to write, but I do want to respond to Annette.
You mentioned a run-in with your ex, sounds like a real fuckhead, since you still have resentment. Don't like people messin' with my girls and anyone that knows me will testify that one.
Joel said something tonight that resonnated very strongly.
In all my past relationships, this is the first that I have no problem with their past lovers. Always something that triggered extreme negativity had no bearing when I met Joel. I just chalked it up to finally being confident enough within a relationship that I wasn't threatened.
I guessed wrong.
As we decorated our X-Mas tree, Joel said that we got so lucky with our past relationships because without them:
we wouldn't have this.
And he couldn't be more right.
I wouldn't trade a single second, no matter how bad I had it or how good he did,
for what this is. And I am indebtedly thankful to all those that came before us. They gave me the rest of my life. One so incredible that I can only hope they get second chance to find. I honestly do.
So, though valiant of MLC, it wouldn't be out of bounds to unclench the fist for a moment and instead shake the hands of that list of fools that let him have a woman like you.
I have my life back again.
Thank you, girls.
Thank you, Joel.
thank you, Deanne
goodnight deanne
good, good morning deanne
Friday, December 03, 2004
Tuesday, November 30, 2004
Man, I wish the editing fairy had visited me this morning.
The author wakes up to find the pages on the floor were written by someone else, they HAD to be, though you are the only one there. (If Mr. King hasn't written that one yet, wake me in time for the yuletide box set.)
Ever come upon a box of writing of your own, that you had forgotten about, that upon reading, fucking impressed you so much the recognition you had written it yourself was lost out of entertainment and envy?
The context, approach, even vocabulary was completely different. Of course, there were a million things I wanted to change. I had recently tried to retype an old paper to blog and could not get through it without making changes. That's kind of the beauty of it - you see the mistakes and/or yourself from a futuristic as well as basic juvenile corrections, and only because you want to change it to make it better. A little refreshing, that everyday shit can get real fucking bad,
and I will still say "you fool" to the glory days -
out of knowledge.
I am not saying I typed the great American novel, cause that's next year. Anyone who reads understands style. When there was a short period of JayC's top ten things, I knew immediately what was written by Joel, and a couple others because of that.
It's just a very interesting process to like something I did awhile back and not even remember the voice or words that created it.
And I'm gonna steal like hell from it! (Man, Dan Forgerty could have lost that case, if I had been working for the prosecution.)
I would hope that even this and a much later accidental stumbling upon the woman that wrote blogs, will possibly remind me of a chick I still like,
but still want to edit.
goodnight, everyone
The author wakes up to find the pages on the floor were written by someone else, they HAD to be, though you are the only one there. (If Mr. King hasn't written that one yet, wake me in time for the yuletide box set.)
Ever come upon a box of writing of your own, that you had forgotten about, that upon reading, fucking impressed you so much the recognition you had written it yourself was lost out of entertainment and envy?
The context, approach, even vocabulary was completely different. Of course, there were a million things I wanted to change. I had recently tried to retype an old paper to blog and could not get through it without making changes. That's kind of the beauty of it - you see the mistakes and/or yourself from a futuristic as well as basic juvenile corrections, and only because you want to change it to make it better. A little refreshing, that everyday shit can get real fucking bad,
and I will still say "you fool" to the glory days -
out of knowledge.
I am not saying I typed the great American novel, cause that's next year. Anyone who reads understands style. When there was a short period of JayC's top ten things, I knew immediately what was written by Joel, and a couple others because of that.
It's just a very interesting process to like something I did awhile back and not even remember the voice or words that created it.
And I'm gonna steal like hell from it! (Man, Dan Forgerty could have lost that case, if I had been working for the prosecution.)
I would hope that even this and a much later accidental stumbling upon the woman that wrote blogs, will possibly remind me of a chick I still like,
but still want to edit.
goodnight, everyone
Monday, November 29, 2004
I'll post that blog one day, when I get a chance to edit or just get my hands on it so late that I'm too tired to retract it during the early morning cut, but don't you worry, Annette. I actually was so motion sick today I bought wedding magazines to take my mind effectively off the turbulance for 4 hours - helped a little, got a lot of ideas that I think you'd be proud of from someone who hasn't the pot to piss in. If you can't come, you have got to see the pictures. May 28th, by the buy, ugh.
Frank, c'mon. I love ya like mad, if ya don't know already. Most people that weren't in that room, or in the the show after, didn't find out until I flew 1500 miles to tell them over turkey.
I will agree cell phones suck ass. I would never have had one, even when I missed Joel at his new apt. and had to go pull out money for a fee at the 7-11 to get change to call JOel long-distance on his to find he was already a couple blocks away at the theatre, if it weren't for Sherry's fucked up muthafucka that Joel and I both were concerned would stalk us to Sequoia Nat. Park, I still wouldn't.
We didn't get matching, cheap cellphones for the art of cute. We got them because we thought some tweeked out fuckhead might kill me and my girl.
That's almost conversation a wouldn't turn down from a pie hole,
and, I guess, at least, if the only positive thing in that scenario...
I survived.
Now, on the other hand, my girlfriend trying to sell me hard-core drugs so she can pay her rent 1500 miles away while I'm on an Altanta public MARTA tranportation train- yeah, that's a call I'd like to save for the Wal-mart check-out counter.
Not many people get the exposure they feel they need, especially chicks, only to have the reason broadcast to the cheap seats of rapdily growing arena of people that don't give a fuck. The new flip phone is a lot more attractive than a Mr. Microphone, I assume, though not as funny.
Tom, good for you. Can't wait to meet her. Hope she can make the New Years at the theatre. If there's a theatre,.... or if I get the keys.
IT'S ON, MY SWEET, SWEET BRUTHA.
I'm keeping Nigel awake, so I must go.
I've missed you all. I hope to see you all soon.
Heard a good Rodney tonight, by accident,
"they entered me in a dog show, and I won."
Take care everyone, get laid, or eat turkey, or eat out and involve fowl.
"You know how to spell it." - appropriately slurred Eddie Murphy
goodnight
Frank, c'mon. I love ya like mad, if ya don't know already. Most people that weren't in that room, or in the the show after, didn't find out until I flew 1500 miles to tell them over turkey.
I will agree cell phones suck ass. I would never have had one, even when I missed Joel at his new apt. and had to go pull out money for a fee at the 7-11 to get change to call JOel long-distance on his to find he was already a couple blocks away at the theatre, if it weren't for Sherry's fucked up muthafucka that Joel and I both were concerned would stalk us to Sequoia Nat. Park, I still wouldn't.
We didn't get matching, cheap cellphones for the art of cute. We got them because we thought some tweeked out fuckhead might kill me and my girl.
That's almost conversation a wouldn't turn down from a pie hole,
and, I guess, at least, if the only positive thing in that scenario...
I survived.
Now, on the other hand, my girlfriend trying to sell me hard-core drugs so she can pay her rent 1500 miles away while I'm on an Altanta public MARTA tranportation train- yeah, that's a call I'd like to save for the Wal-mart check-out counter.
Not many people get the exposure they feel they need, especially chicks, only to have the reason broadcast to the cheap seats of rapdily growing arena of people that don't give a fuck. The new flip phone is a lot more attractive than a Mr. Microphone, I assume, though not as funny.
Tom, good for you. Can't wait to meet her. Hope she can make the New Years at the theatre. If there's a theatre,.... or if I get the keys.
IT'S ON, MY SWEET, SWEET BRUTHA.
I'm keeping Nigel awake, so I must go.
I've missed you all. I hope to see you all soon.
Heard a good Rodney tonight, by accident,
"they entered me in a dog show, and I won."
Take care everyone, get laid, or eat turkey, or eat out and involve fowl.
"You know how to spell it." - appropriately slurred Eddie Murphy
goodnight
Wednesday, November 24, 2004
11-20-04
Joel proposed.
I have a whole blog that would just make you sick.
But, I will tell Annette, I didn't know you until I involuntarily was shown what it meant to be happy. Nothing else existed, or could. It was fantastic.
******
So I go home tomorrow, I mean, today.
I also mean, well, to Atlanta.
To what Dena would term as hell.
I was glad I sat sipping through the rain beaten noise of something that didn’t close this time.
I’ve gotten a second chance at everything.
Shouldn’t we all?
If not get it ourselves, at least give the allowance for someone else to?
Well, to at least, try to?
I think so.
I hope so.
“Mother arms reach out to me…”
What I find is different every year.
This year will be something I never expected.
Because neither did he.
Happy Holidays, you turkey poachin’ muthafuckas!
Take a nap.
We all deserve it.
Joel proposed.
I have a whole blog that would just make you sick.
But, I will tell Annette, I didn't know you until I involuntarily was shown what it meant to be happy. Nothing else existed, or could. It was fantastic.
******
So I go home tomorrow, I mean, today.
I also mean, well, to Atlanta.
To what Dena would term as hell.
I was glad I sat sipping through the rain beaten noise of something that didn’t close this time.
I’ve gotten a second chance at everything.
Shouldn’t we all?
If not get it ourselves, at least give the allowance for someone else to?
Well, to at least, try to?
I think so.
I hope so.
“Mother arms reach out to me…”
What I find is different every year.
This year will be something I never expected.
Because neither did he.
Happy Holidays, you turkey poachin’ muthafuckas!
Take a nap.
We all deserve it.
Saturday, November 20, 2004
Yes, I was drinking gasoline, mother.
In the company of women
I enjoyed my entire night. I spent most of it with women. Didn't realize it at first, but all those nice moments singular and collective were so randomly different and so deeply comfortable solely because of gender.
No question, women have the headlock on communication. Whether good at it or not, you better be. Just kind of cool that chicks have that unique loophole in relating to one another because of common denominators. Men don't have that. Our bodies and their consequences surpass all other differences. No matter how much animosity there may be, not many women would leave another woman in the bathroom if she was in distress. Weak example, but an accurate one.
Tj asked me one night why I hate women so much. I didn't have a definite answer because I had never been asked before. Good fucking question, I thought.
Later, a blog response I wrote pulled it together. It was about an issue that dealt specifically with women, and gave me full authority to relate because it directly impacts my body.
The anger I have is admittedly self-centric. All those bullshit ideals that I have to watch secondly perpetuated - make and keep my life very difficult.
I am proof that things can change, and don't feel too guilty resonating that with every (okay, every other 4) girlish slap to my face.
And just tonight,
Though I do promote a lot of negativity about my gender, it is because, without question, we are united by default AND REALLY USE IT, yet still can't get it together.
A lot of it's vanity, I would assume.
If I knew, boy, if I only knew - and if vanity's all it is - well, then there really is no solution that doesn't involve a needle.
Hey, even if I choose not to look permanently surprised in my 40s, at least, I'll have the paraphrenalia to go out like a fucking rock star.
Friday- F.M.- There was "no static at all" with the womenfolk tonight.
No competition. Nice, though unfortunately rare, I really, really hate that shit.
Men have great conversations with each other, but they're not the same. Women naturally go straight for the sordid and personal (not in that order) more quickly, if not immediately. I like that. Maybe men don't, in my experiences they haven't with each other, and I think that's too bad. The fact that women are less pronounced as a contender in life as opposed to one of it's potential prizes, changes the inclusion of understanding. It is kept separate largely because it's considered unimportant (okay, mis understood- if that sounds better), unless convenient, or conveniently complicated for personal distraction.
The differences really aren't that imposing.
The petty carats and better sponges do keep it so, and
for good reason -
When a women is talking to you, really, honestly saying something to you - there is an intimacy that transcends almost all voluntary action.
Strange that something like that can be overpowered by killing flowers, mining rocks, and taking all the fucking fun out of cocoa (I don't have the energy to make that one global. Sorry, just not tonight, I mean, today.)
Okay, Eso, there are some. Not many, but some. (Hell, I'll keep saying that even if they become millions, cause it'll honestly never be enough.) It began with you tonight, actually.
I was given a knock, and was gruntled. I have been given a couple lately. Enough to doubt. Some close, but however (now that I think about it) none female.
I was told that I was too strong.
You know what. Maybe it's something only gay men and women can understand.
Being treated like a little bitch, it's an acquired reaction. Most people, who really know what it's like, wouldn't choose it without thinking they had to, or wouldn't be a lot worse off if they didn't, and even under those circumstances, wouldn't outwardly resent.
I sold you short tonight, Estella.
Thank you, you crazy, crazy bitch.
Thank you.
In the company of women
I enjoyed my entire night. I spent most of it with women. Didn't realize it at first, but all those nice moments singular and collective were so randomly different and so deeply comfortable solely because of gender.
No question, women have the headlock on communication. Whether good at it or not, you better be. Just kind of cool that chicks have that unique loophole in relating to one another because of common denominators. Men don't have that. Our bodies and their consequences surpass all other differences. No matter how much animosity there may be, not many women would leave another woman in the bathroom if she was in distress. Weak example, but an accurate one.
Tj asked me one night why I hate women so much. I didn't have a definite answer because I had never been asked before. Good fucking question, I thought.
Later, a blog response I wrote pulled it together. It was about an issue that dealt specifically with women, and gave me full authority to relate because it directly impacts my body.
The anger I have is admittedly self-centric. All those bullshit ideals that I have to watch secondly perpetuated - make and keep my life very difficult.
I am proof that things can change, and don't feel too guilty resonating that with every (okay, every other 4) girlish slap to my face.
And just tonight,
Though I do promote a lot of negativity about my gender, it is because, without question, we are united by default AND REALLY USE IT, yet still can't get it together.
A lot of it's vanity, I would assume.
If I knew, boy, if I only knew - and if vanity's all it is - well, then there really is no solution that doesn't involve a needle.
Hey, even if I choose not to look permanently surprised in my 40s, at least, I'll have the paraphrenalia to go out like a fucking rock star.
Friday- F.M.- There was "no static at all" with the womenfolk tonight.
No competition. Nice, though unfortunately rare, I really, really hate that shit.
Men have great conversations with each other, but they're not the same. Women naturally go straight for the sordid and personal (not in that order) more quickly, if not immediately. I like that. Maybe men don't, in my experiences they haven't with each other, and I think that's too bad. The fact that women are less pronounced as a contender in life as opposed to one of it's potential prizes, changes the inclusion of understanding. It is kept separate largely because it's considered unimportant (okay, mis understood- if that sounds better), unless convenient, or conveniently complicated for personal distraction.
The differences really aren't that imposing.
The petty carats and better sponges do keep it so, and
for good reason -
When a women is talking to you, really, honestly saying something to you - there is an intimacy that transcends almost all voluntary action.
Strange that something like that can be overpowered by killing flowers, mining rocks, and taking all the fucking fun out of cocoa (I don't have the energy to make that one global. Sorry, just not tonight, I mean, today.)
Okay, Eso, there are some. Not many, but some. (Hell, I'll keep saying that even if they become millions, cause it'll honestly never be enough.) It began with you tonight, actually.
I was given a knock, and was gruntled. I have been given a couple lately. Enough to doubt. Some close, but however (now that I think about it) none female.
I was told that I was too strong.
You know what. Maybe it's something only gay men and women can understand.
Being treated like a little bitch, it's an acquired reaction. Most people, who really know what it's like, wouldn't choose it without thinking they had to, or wouldn't be a lot worse off if they didn't, and even under those circumstances, wouldn't outwardly resent.
I sold you short tonight, Estella.
Thank you, you crazy, crazy bitch.
Thank you.
Friday, November 19, 2004
Getting ready for the show, I'm putting off doing my hair for a moment.
Frank, I'm pretty sure god has a little bit to do with why you can't see good movies where you live because of his "clientele" - got to please the masses, you see. Unfortunately, good taste isn't as common as we would like, but at least we are the ones that are motivated enough to complain and find it elsewhere. Either that, or I'll just ask Joel. He's the closest to a religious superior that I know. Anyone who says my man lacks ambition is a heathen, or just a party pooper. You'll just have to come down here and see it. It's really fucking cute, but don't fret- it doesn't change the face of modern cinema. Plus we miss you.
Tom, what and where the fuck? I hate that you couldn't come, but as least let us know you are coming somewhere! (hee)
Katrina, keep up the typing and typing about drinking. I like both very much.
Annette. Where does that girl find the time? She blogs every fucking day!
Tj- I like watching you busy, and "you know we'll have a good time then."
Erikckckck - Thanks. I think you should type it in all caps. Compliments slip past too easily these days. Say it loud, my friend. Great reviews, by the by. You're the Stanley I never had.
Bruce - I'd like to see your email archive. You could take that shit on the road, if you could afford the gas.
Gen - With ideas like yours, you can never be small, no matter how you may feel.
Sherry - Today is Friday. You should call me.
Erica - You deserved every petal of those yellow roses. If you forgot every line and took a shit on the vanity, you'd still make that show fly.
Nick - hope the show is faring well.
JayC - how are ya?
Kyle - WHAT was it you were doing? We should talk - reaaal soon.
Anyone I left out, I'll come back. Gotta run and get beat up for the next 3 hours.
I feel good. I feel excited.
I miss you all.
Love and naughty tingles,
D
Frank, I'm pretty sure god has a little bit to do with why you can't see good movies where you live because of his "clientele" - got to please the masses, you see. Unfortunately, good taste isn't as common as we would like, but at least we are the ones that are motivated enough to complain and find it elsewhere. Either that, or I'll just ask Joel. He's the closest to a religious superior that I know. Anyone who says my man lacks ambition is a heathen, or just a party pooper. You'll just have to come down here and see it. It's really fucking cute, but don't fret- it doesn't change the face of modern cinema. Plus we miss you.
Tom, what and where the fuck? I hate that you couldn't come, but as least let us know you are coming somewhere! (hee)
Katrina, keep up the typing and typing about drinking. I like both very much.
Annette. Where does that girl find the time? She blogs every fucking day!
Tj- I like watching you busy, and "you know we'll have a good time then."
Erikckckck - Thanks. I think you should type it in all caps. Compliments slip past too easily these days. Say it loud, my friend. Great reviews, by the by. You're the Stanley I never had.
Bruce - I'd like to see your email archive. You could take that shit on the road, if you could afford the gas.
Gen - With ideas like yours, you can never be small, no matter how you may feel.
Sherry - Today is Friday. You should call me.
Erica - You deserved every petal of those yellow roses. If you forgot every line and took a shit on the vanity, you'd still make that show fly.
Nick - hope the show is faring well.
JayC - how are ya?
Kyle - WHAT was it you were doing? We should talk - reaaal soon.
Anyone I left out, I'll come back. Gotta run and get beat up for the next 3 hours.
I feel good. I feel excited.
I miss you all.
Love and naughty tingles,
D
Thursday, November 18, 2004
I had to take that back. I was depressed earlier, but stopped...
JayC, as I was watching "In plane site" there was a clip of GWB explaining what we were fighting against, "This isn't about any certain religion. This is evil."
I have never, in my experience known a statue of Justice with her scales, from 30 feet tall to 14 inches high, that was actually wearing a blindfold (Ireland) or steady enough for the scales to be balanced without propping it up with a matchbook (Kate Lownhawr's boss' desk).
The blame goes to the fact that there is an injustice caused by something that holds all the cards and makes no bones about cheating, which leaves you with the decision to either insult your own intelligence and play dumb and play along, or blissfully ignore everything and just trust completely because it's easier. That's why, Gen. JayC's sister's pain allowed to even exist is where the finger pointing comes in.
I can't offer any answers, admittedly, well, obviously cause I'd be drastically underpaid. I will say, that though I do not know what it is like to go through something as horrible as that - more than once! - I am consoled somewhat that she still has that much love to give, knowing the consequences now, and still is in an environment where she can be able to try again, if she chooses. A lot of people don't have that microcosm. And especially with this, the most important one.
Not to slight, but I think women are more in tune with circumstance and their longevity (we have less time to be indecisive).
She will do what she feels is right, and it will be right.
*****
Still I should be reeling from the time had last night. Little ole Bobby Rodgers' show with Stark Theatre at the Freakin' Frog. It had it's moments, great stage combat sequence, some old rehashed jokes turned skits, and of course, Bobby dressed as Colonel Saunders playing the devil (with horns!) humping the top of a pile of women that were fighting over a drumstick. Sheer heaven.
I also won the raffle! I was adorned with a bottle of champagne and a white satin sash that read "#1 SINNER"!
The combination of so many things I love along with the prime opportunity to spout off my favorite Oscar Wilde quote more than thrice ("Nothing makes one so vain as being told one's a sinner.") to random patrons including an author that used some Oscar quotes in his piece who, of course, didn't get it. Still unsure how later I was able to remove all my clothes during a striptease (at home) and still keep it on, but, hey, most sinners are best left oblivious to their magic.
It was a brilliant night of old and new rolling into itself, becoming more extrordinary than possibly ever imagined. Anyone who dares say I moved here for nothing needs only to spend an hour by my side.
I knew it was here. I had to believe that.
Now, there isn't a second now that let's me doubt it.
It's all been for this. Even though I know there's more, IT is beginning again.
Back at ya, Arlo, "This time with feelin'."
Oh, and the new hospital show HOUSE, total crap.
JayC, as I was watching "In plane site" there was a clip of GWB explaining what we were fighting against, "This isn't about any certain religion. This is evil."
I have never, in my experience known a statue of Justice with her scales, from 30 feet tall to 14 inches high, that was actually wearing a blindfold (Ireland) or steady enough for the scales to be balanced without propping it up with a matchbook (Kate Lownhawr's boss' desk).
The blame goes to the fact that there is an injustice caused by something that holds all the cards and makes no bones about cheating, which leaves you with the decision to either insult your own intelligence and play dumb and play along, or blissfully ignore everything and just trust completely because it's easier. That's why, Gen. JayC's sister's pain allowed to even exist is where the finger pointing comes in.
I can't offer any answers, admittedly, well, obviously cause I'd be drastically underpaid. I will say, that though I do not know what it is like to go through something as horrible as that - more than once! - I am consoled somewhat that she still has that much love to give, knowing the consequences now, and still is in an environment where she can be able to try again, if she chooses. A lot of people don't have that microcosm. And especially with this, the most important one.
Not to slight, but I think women are more in tune with circumstance and their longevity (we have less time to be indecisive).
She will do what she feels is right, and it will be right.
*****
Still I should be reeling from the time had last night. Little ole Bobby Rodgers' show with Stark Theatre at the Freakin' Frog. It had it's moments, great stage combat sequence, some old rehashed jokes turned skits, and of course, Bobby dressed as Colonel Saunders playing the devil (with horns!) humping the top of a pile of women that were fighting over a drumstick. Sheer heaven.
I also won the raffle! I was adorned with a bottle of champagne and a white satin sash that read "#1 SINNER"!
The combination of so many things I love along with the prime opportunity to spout off my favorite Oscar Wilde quote more than thrice ("Nothing makes one so vain as being told one's a sinner.") to random patrons including an author that used some Oscar quotes in his piece who, of course, didn't get it. Still unsure how later I was able to remove all my clothes during a striptease (at home) and still keep it on, but, hey, most sinners are best left oblivious to their magic.
It was a brilliant night of old and new rolling into itself, becoming more extrordinary than possibly ever imagined. Anyone who dares say I moved here for nothing needs only to spend an hour by my side.
I knew it was here. I had to believe that.
Now, there isn't a second now that let's me doubt it.
It's all been for this. Even though I know there's more, IT is beginning again.
Back at ya, Arlo, "This time with feelin'."
Oh, and the new hospital show HOUSE, total crap.
I performed stand-up tonight.
It wasn't great. Hell, Joel was in the bathroom for the first joke, but I had to get up there.
I had to.
I even told Joel, very early, I had to, but was worried because there was at least one more comic to go on. I could tell by the waiting body language and I didn't want to step on his toes. As the sentence came out of my mouth, I recognized him. Potter.
Potter was the first comic I met in this town, at the World Trade Center Casino.
The guy that introduced me to the fuck offs - that were in Mutiny-
crap comics- that totally excluded him-
he and I made our first Strip AND LA debut together -
and now he "headlines" at the college fry house-
he was also lucky enough to tell me that-
the EVER talented MARCUS AND MIRIAM moved to LA,
to do as well for themselves
as I know they won't
aside, from all that
I found that out post wanting to grab that mike
it wasn't good
it wasn't great
(even when Joel was pissing for most of the first part)
I wanted nothing else but grab that mike,
and did
and
(aside from all the fried chicken and Hunter Thompson insanities that I left out)
it means and meant nothing less than
everything
It wasn't great. Hell, Joel was in the bathroom for the first joke, but I had to get up there.
I had to.
I even told Joel, very early, I had to, but was worried because there was at least one more comic to go on. I could tell by the waiting body language and I didn't want to step on his toes. As the sentence came out of my mouth, I recognized him. Potter.
Potter was the first comic I met in this town, at the World Trade Center Casino.
The guy that introduced me to the fuck offs - that were in Mutiny-
crap comics- that totally excluded him-
he and I made our first Strip AND LA debut together -
and now he "headlines" at the college fry house-
he was also lucky enough to tell me that-
the EVER talented MARCUS AND MIRIAM moved to LA,
to do as well for themselves
as I know they won't
aside, from all that
I found that out post wanting to grab that mike
it wasn't good
it wasn't great
(even when Joel was pissing for most of the first part)
I wanted nothing else but grab that mike,
and did
and
(aside from all the fried chicken and Hunter Thompson insanities that I left out)
it means and meant nothing less than
everything
Sunday, November 07, 2004
Funny, self-involved was the adjective that was shocked I couldn’t remember yesterday, since it is the one most applicable to my last couple of months.
First of all, Happy Belated to Bruce! Of all people, I hate that I was the one that was late on that congratulations. I even tried to post a picture of Amy Lee under a blue light screaming into the mike for my B-day shout out to only learn that PhotoIsland is closing down permanently. By Nov. 22nd everything they host will be lost and they encourage you to save all photos and host them somewhere else. (If anyone knows of an alternative let me know, hp hosting is bullshit.)
So, here’s to the 30, man.
I actually found a bit of writing inspiration thinking about your turning 30. I tapped into an unexploited area of female sexuality that resulted in a one time national holiday for every woman called “Bruce Day.”
As short as possibly explained, every woman would spend her 30th birthday celebrating that fact that she is hornier than her imagination of a 17 year old boy would be (because she’s not) instead of feeling depressed.
Funny, when I explained it to Joel, I said I’m still thinking of a name for it. He immediately said “Bruce Day!” I still agree, but since it’s within the context of strictly female sexual empowerment- I just don’t think the chicks would go for it.
I’ll keep you posted, though!
Bottoms up, Bruce! Hope you had a good one!
Nick-
Moving sucks, commuting sucks, but being in a show you really like and I guessing even cuter chicks in SLC, makes me happy. I feel your pain with the rental bullshit you’ve been dealing with. I’ve had nothing but problems in the place I’m living. Just since Joel has moved in, our air-conditioner has been a never-ending maintenance saga that resulted in it raining in our apt for about 2 months. It only just stopped because it got colder. The apt. office told me to call them if the heater gives us problems, but no need to fix it again until next spring. Sweet, huh?
Don’t think I’ll make it there for your shows. I hate that. I would love to see you onstage. However, Joel will be up there for Thanksgiving, then we will both be up there sometime in March for his brother’s wedding. Dates still pending. Maybe we’ll catch ya then, if not before!
Feeble excuse for being so self-absorbed lately-
Streetcar opened this weekend and is going very well.
Opening night, Joel brought home flowers and came to see the show. I was very happy about that.
It was a little rough for me because I was sick. I got a really high fever that afternoon, on top of having to shower (hot water), blow dry my hair (heat), put in hot rollers (more heat), got to the theatre and the air-conditioner was broken, for 3 hours have to wear underwear, a girdle, a slip, with various costume changes that include very thick pregnancy pillows, and perform a role that’s extremely physically and emotionally taxing.
It still went well, though excruciatingly hot. I kept a wet sock at both of my exits so I could try to keep the fever down and calm the fear of passing out during a scene.
I don’t normally sweat even when I exercise, so you can imagine how bad it was. My 9 month pillow was so soaked when I got to the dressing room that I had to wring it out.
Also, it’s no big secret that “Stanley” and I don’t care for each other, but that opening night - the scene that had been giving us both so much trouble, us with each other and me with props, worked for the very first time – we both felt it and knew damn well we nailed it right fucking on. As we came off stage, he whirled around and threw up his hands for a high five – in the entire 4 month process, it was the only time we had ever been happy with each other.
Though fleeting, it was a very nice moment.
But those that saw it loved it. The compliments that I got from Joel and Juicy were about the exact 4 places that I had been struggling with the whole time – I told them they had no idea just how much beyond thankful that really meant to me.
I also was pleased to hear that, during intermission, JayC, Joel and Tony, the newspaper reviewer, were outside discussing Stanley. Never actually meeting him, Joel has received very good reviews from Tony. Tony said he recognized him and JayC gave a formal introduction. Tony then told Joel that he would have made a great Stanley.
When Joel told me this later, he said that he almost told Tony that it would have been a little weird considering he was already engaged to Stella.
I said I wished he had. I have wanted to tell Tony (cause I am going to invite him and well, just think it’s too fucking cute), but never had an appropriate opportunity for it to come up in conversation.
I was so tickled with Tony’s comment. Very fantastic to hear a reviewer think you would’ve been a better actor for the role, and very very fantastic, for a role that placed him opposite me as my husband, without having any clue Joel and I are even involved.
Very sweet ______ …I actually don’t know what to call that because it well exceeds the parameters of what I consider a compliment.
Though Joel doesn’t agree with him, he was right.
My first Stanley scene still gives me trouble. It’s my own fault, but having major costume trouble hasn’t been helping it. Opening night, props were missing, the second, the safety pins pinning my slip down (it’s an usually low cut dress) both popped and were stabbing my tits every time I bent over – didn’t help that it’s the scene where I have to constantly bend over to pick up the crap that he’s flailing out of the trunk. The frantic, unsuccessful boob tucking and adjusting prior to that scene doesn’t help my focus much. I think solving that will ease most of the problems I’m having.
We had our first matinee today. It rained the entire day. Without the air-conditioner working properly, most of the audiences have been angered because they thought we had been keeping it so hot in there for authentic New Orleans atmosphere. If it wasn’t hot enough before, it was hot and humid enough today.
Though soaking wet and makeup melting (and my fever), today’s was the best we’ve done so far. I was strangely emotional today too. I have 4 definite places where I have to cry on cue. There are others that pop up, but 4 that absolutely have to happen and for real because the thrust stage puts me basically in the audience’s lap for most of them.
I have never had to cry onstage before and was surprised that I didn’t have too much trouble with it. This past week I started having trouble and had been inner scrambling on how to force it.
Not today.
Another first, I actually had to pull back so I wouldn’t get out of control and pull focus.
As I came out for the last scene, I was folding and packing Blanche’s clothes on the bed and as the poker scene began suddenly the lights went out.
We usually have problems with the light board. It sometimes cuts out for a moment, but not long enough to halt the action. Today it was dead. I realized right away it wasn’t just a technical problem. Walter came out and announced that a transformer had exploded and the entire block was without electricity and would be for quite a while. The worst part was that our emergency lights also failed. The audience was shockingly amused as they sat in pitch black. All those blue-hairs sweating their asses off were so taken by the show they giggled in the dark, wanted to see the end, and patiently waited for the final scene to happen.
I sat on the bed still uncannily emotionally in character as flashlights randomly shot across the stage. I heard Sue in the box office asking for candles and suddenly Bob jumped up from the poker table and asked everyone, “Candlelight, huh? HUH?!”
The place erupted with applause. With a candle placed on the poker table and one on the vanity, and flashlights held at the window seat, far exit, and a tech with one in the kitchen, the entire stage glowed crystal fucking clear.
It was the most incredible experience. I still don’t know how it worked. Especially with flashlights, and an actual tech onstage in the corner of the set, it was completely unnoticeable they were there, the beams just merely illuminated and didn't harshly spotlight our faces like anyone including me would've believed.
Because of the circumstances and the candlelit stage, the scene automatically became insanely intimate. Every person in the room could feel it. Every actor on that stage was consumed by the scene because of it. I’ve never been in a room emotionally charged like that. As Walter yelled “And Lights Out!,” I looked up and saw an elderly man sitting in the audience right in front of me with tears streaming down his face.
I have never been that affected by a show. It was a relief to see that I wasn’t the only one.
Though we have never greeted the audience as they exited this show, every single one of us without a word went straight out to the front to say goodbye.
I went to the inner lobby first to use the restroom and was immediately bombarded by the patrons. I tried to keep my composure, but was comforted that I wasn’t the only one with tears still in my eyes.
I was happy to thank them as much as they felt they needed to thank me.
Though it was the most disturbed I have been by the show, it was the first time I had ever seen a production draw in both actors and patrons so deeply that they became palpably familial.
Of all the times I have ever performed, that was the most powerful experience I have ever had onstage.
And I will never, ever forget it.
Goodnight, everyone.
There are just some problems that Sundays shouldn't be burdened with. Any problem on Sunday is still going to be there on Monday. Tell Ben Franklin to go fuck himself and deal with it tomorrow - and relax, take a nap, get laid, or, in the event of no nookie, please, for the sake of Sundays, go fuck your self!
Let's all fall alseep with a smile tonight.
That's a good night.
First of all, Happy Belated to Bruce! Of all people, I hate that I was the one that was late on that congratulations. I even tried to post a picture of Amy Lee under a blue light screaming into the mike for my B-day shout out to only learn that PhotoIsland is closing down permanently. By Nov. 22nd everything they host will be lost and they encourage you to save all photos and host them somewhere else. (If anyone knows of an alternative let me know, hp hosting is bullshit.)
So, here’s to the 30, man.
I actually found a bit of writing inspiration thinking about your turning 30. I tapped into an unexploited area of female sexuality that resulted in a one time national holiday for every woman called “Bruce Day.”
As short as possibly explained, every woman would spend her 30th birthday celebrating that fact that she is hornier than her imagination of a 17 year old boy would be (because she’s not) instead of feeling depressed.
Funny, when I explained it to Joel, I said I’m still thinking of a name for it. He immediately said “Bruce Day!” I still agree, but since it’s within the context of strictly female sexual empowerment- I just don’t think the chicks would go for it.
I’ll keep you posted, though!
Bottoms up, Bruce! Hope you had a good one!
Nick-
Moving sucks, commuting sucks, but being in a show you really like and I guessing even cuter chicks in SLC, makes me happy. I feel your pain with the rental bullshit you’ve been dealing with. I’ve had nothing but problems in the place I’m living. Just since Joel has moved in, our air-conditioner has been a never-ending maintenance saga that resulted in it raining in our apt for about 2 months. It only just stopped because it got colder. The apt. office told me to call them if the heater gives us problems, but no need to fix it again until next spring. Sweet, huh?
Don’t think I’ll make it there for your shows. I hate that. I would love to see you onstage. However, Joel will be up there for Thanksgiving, then we will both be up there sometime in March for his brother’s wedding. Dates still pending. Maybe we’ll catch ya then, if not before!
Feeble excuse for being so self-absorbed lately-
Streetcar opened this weekend and is going very well.
Opening night, Joel brought home flowers and came to see the show. I was very happy about that.
It was a little rough for me because I was sick. I got a really high fever that afternoon, on top of having to shower (hot water), blow dry my hair (heat), put in hot rollers (more heat), got to the theatre and the air-conditioner was broken, for 3 hours have to wear underwear, a girdle, a slip, with various costume changes that include very thick pregnancy pillows, and perform a role that’s extremely physically and emotionally taxing.
It still went well, though excruciatingly hot. I kept a wet sock at both of my exits so I could try to keep the fever down and calm the fear of passing out during a scene.
I don’t normally sweat even when I exercise, so you can imagine how bad it was. My 9 month pillow was so soaked when I got to the dressing room that I had to wring it out.
Also, it’s no big secret that “Stanley” and I don’t care for each other, but that opening night - the scene that had been giving us both so much trouble, us with each other and me with props, worked for the very first time – we both felt it and knew damn well we nailed it right fucking on. As we came off stage, he whirled around and threw up his hands for a high five – in the entire 4 month process, it was the only time we had ever been happy with each other.
Though fleeting, it was a very nice moment.
But those that saw it loved it. The compliments that I got from Joel and Juicy were about the exact 4 places that I had been struggling with the whole time – I told them they had no idea just how much beyond thankful that really meant to me.
I also was pleased to hear that, during intermission, JayC, Joel and Tony, the newspaper reviewer, were outside discussing Stanley. Never actually meeting him, Joel has received very good reviews from Tony. Tony said he recognized him and JayC gave a formal introduction. Tony then told Joel that he would have made a great Stanley.
When Joel told me this later, he said that he almost told Tony that it would have been a little weird considering he was already engaged to Stella.
I said I wished he had. I have wanted to tell Tony (cause I am going to invite him and well, just think it’s too fucking cute), but never had an appropriate opportunity for it to come up in conversation.
I was so tickled with Tony’s comment. Very fantastic to hear a reviewer think you would’ve been a better actor for the role, and very very fantastic, for a role that placed him opposite me as my husband, without having any clue Joel and I are even involved.
Very sweet ______ …I actually don’t know what to call that because it well exceeds the parameters of what I consider a compliment.
Though Joel doesn’t agree with him, he was right.
My first Stanley scene still gives me trouble. It’s my own fault, but having major costume trouble hasn’t been helping it. Opening night, props were missing, the second, the safety pins pinning my slip down (it’s an usually low cut dress) both popped and were stabbing my tits every time I bent over – didn’t help that it’s the scene where I have to constantly bend over to pick up the crap that he’s flailing out of the trunk. The frantic, unsuccessful boob tucking and adjusting prior to that scene doesn’t help my focus much. I think solving that will ease most of the problems I’m having.
We had our first matinee today. It rained the entire day. Without the air-conditioner working properly, most of the audiences have been angered because they thought we had been keeping it so hot in there for authentic New Orleans atmosphere. If it wasn’t hot enough before, it was hot and humid enough today.
Though soaking wet and makeup melting (and my fever), today’s was the best we’ve done so far. I was strangely emotional today too. I have 4 definite places where I have to cry on cue. There are others that pop up, but 4 that absolutely have to happen and for real because the thrust stage puts me basically in the audience’s lap for most of them.
I have never had to cry onstage before and was surprised that I didn’t have too much trouble with it. This past week I started having trouble and had been inner scrambling on how to force it.
Not today.
Another first, I actually had to pull back so I wouldn’t get out of control and pull focus.
As I came out for the last scene, I was folding and packing Blanche’s clothes on the bed and as the poker scene began suddenly the lights went out.
We usually have problems with the light board. It sometimes cuts out for a moment, but not long enough to halt the action. Today it was dead. I realized right away it wasn’t just a technical problem. Walter came out and announced that a transformer had exploded and the entire block was without electricity and would be for quite a while. The worst part was that our emergency lights also failed. The audience was shockingly amused as they sat in pitch black. All those blue-hairs sweating their asses off were so taken by the show they giggled in the dark, wanted to see the end, and patiently waited for the final scene to happen.
I sat on the bed still uncannily emotionally in character as flashlights randomly shot across the stage. I heard Sue in the box office asking for candles and suddenly Bob jumped up from the poker table and asked everyone, “Candlelight, huh? HUH?!”
The place erupted with applause. With a candle placed on the poker table and one on the vanity, and flashlights held at the window seat, far exit, and a tech with one in the kitchen, the entire stage glowed crystal fucking clear.
It was the most incredible experience. I still don’t know how it worked. Especially with flashlights, and an actual tech onstage in the corner of the set, it was completely unnoticeable they were there, the beams just merely illuminated and didn't harshly spotlight our faces like anyone including me would've believed.
Because of the circumstances and the candlelit stage, the scene automatically became insanely intimate. Every person in the room could feel it. Every actor on that stage was consumed by the scene because of it. I’ve never been in a room emotionally charged like that. As Walter yelled “And Lights Out!,” I looked up and saw an elderly man sitting in the audience right in front of me with tears streaming down his face.
I have never been that affected by a show. It was a relief to see that I wasn’t the only one.
Though we have never greeted the audience as they exited this show, every single one of us without a word went straight out to the front to say goodbye.
I went to the inner lobby first to use the restroom and was immediately bombarded by the patrons. I tried to keep my composure, but was comforted that I wasn’t the only one with tears still in my eyes.
I was happy to thank them as much as they felt they needed to thank me.
Though it was the most disturbed I have been by the show, it was the first time I had ever seen a production draw in both actors and patrons so deeply that they became palpably familial.
Of all the times I have ever performed, that was the most powerful experience I have ever had onstage.
And I will never, ever forget it.
Goodnight, everyone.
There are just some problems that Sundays shouldn't be burdened with. Any problem on Sunday is still going to be there on Monday. Tell Ben Franklin to go fuck himself and deal with it tomorrow - and relax, take a nap, get laid, or, in the event of no nookie, please, for the sake of Sundays, go fuck your self!
Let's all fall alseep with a smile tonight.
That's a good night.
Wednesday, October 27, 2004
For Bruce:
> From an unknown man:
>
> I never quite figured out why the sexual urge of men and women differ
so
> much. And I never have figured out the whole Venus and Mars thing. I
have
> never figured out why men think with their head and women with their
> heart. I have never figured out why the sexual desire gene gets
thrown
> into a state of turmoil when it hears the words, "I do".
>
> FOR EXAMPLE:
>
> One evening last week, my wife and I were getting into bed. The
passion
> starts to heat up... and she eventually says, "I don't feel like it,
I
> just want you to hold me." I said WHAT??... What was that?" So she
says
> the words that every husband on the planet dreads to hear... "You're
just
> not in touch with my emotional needs as a woman enough for me to
satisfy
> your physical needs as a man!" She responded to my puzzled look by
saying,
> "Can't you just love me for who I am and not what I do for you in the
> bedroom?" Realizing that nothing was going to happen that night, I
went to
> sleep. The very next day I opted to take the day off from work to
spend
> time with her. We went out to a nice lunch and then went shopping at
a
big
> unnamed dept store. I walked around with her while she tried on
several
> different, very expensive outfits. She couldn't decide which one to
take,
> so I told her we'll just buy them all. She wanted new shoes to
compliment
> her new clothes, so I said let's get a pair for each outfit. We went
on to
> the jewelry dept,where she picked up a pair of diamond earrings. Let
me
> tell you.... she was soooo excited. She must have thought I was one
wave
> short of a shipwreck. I started to think she was testing me, because
she
> asked for a tennis bracelet when she doesn't even know how to play
tennis.
> I think I threw her for a loop when I said, "That's fine, honey." She
was
> almost nearing sexual satisfaction from all of the excitement.
Smiling
> with excited anticipation, she finally said, "I think this is all
dear,
> let's go to the cashier." I could hardly contain myself when I
blurted
> out, "No, honey, I don't feel like it." Her face just went completely
> blank, as her jaw dropped with a baffled "WHAT??"
> I then said, "Really honey! I just want you to HOLD this stuff for a
> while...You're just not in touch with my financial needs as man
enough
for
> me to satisfy your shopping needs as a woman." And just when she had
this
> look like she was going to kill me, I added, "Why can't you just love
me
> for who I am and not for the things I buy you?"
>
> Apparently I'm not having sex tonight either...
I know very well what it's like to be the financial stronghold with the higher sex drive. Anyone that thinks jewelry, or ANYTHING else for that matter, is more important than orgasms and paying bills is a fucking moron.
No wonder I hate women so much.
I'll spare the irony of telling them to go fuck themselves.
> From an unknown man:
>
> I never quite figured out why the sexual urge of men and women differ
so
> much. And I never have figured out the whole Venus and Mars thing. I
have
> never figured out why men think with their head and women with their
> heart. I have never figured out why the sexual desire gene gets
thrown
> into a state of turmoil when it hears the words, "I do".
>
> FOR EXAMPLE:
>
> One evening last week, my wife and I were getting into bed. The
passion
> starts to heat up... and she eventually says, "I don't feel like it,
I
> just want you to hold me." I said WHAT??... What was that?" So she
says
> the words that every husband on the planet dreads to hear... "You're
just
> not in touch with my emotional needs as a woman enough for me to
satisfy
> your physical needs as a man!" She responded to my puzzled look by
saying,
> "Can't you just love me for who I am and not what I do for you in the
> bedroom?" Realizing that nothing was going to happen that night, I
went to
> sleep. The very next day I opted to take the day off from work to
spend
> time with her. We went out to a nice lunch and then went shopping at
a
big
> unnamed dept store. I walked around with her while she tried on
several
> different, very expensive outfits. She couldn't decide which one to
take,
> so I told her we'll just buy them all. She wanted new shoes to
compliment
> her new clothes, so I said let's get a pair for each outfit. We went
on to
> the jewelry dept,where she picked up a pair of diamond earrings. Let
me
> tell you.... she was soooo excited. She must have thought I was one
wave
> short of a shipwreck. I started to think she was testing me, because
she
> asked for a tennis bracelet when she doesn't even know how to play
tennis.
> I think I threw her for a loop when I said, "That's fine, honey." She
was
> almost nearing sexual satisfaction from all of the excitement.
Smiling
> with excited anticipation, she finally said, "I think this is all
dear,
> let's go to the cashier." I could hardly contain myself when I
blurted
> out, "No, honey, I don't feel like it." Her face just went completely
> blank, as her jaw dropped with a baffled "WHAT??"
> I then said, "Really honey! I just want you to HOLD this stuff for a
> while...You're just not in touch with my financial needs as man
enough
for
> me to satisfy your shopping needs as a woman." And just when she had
this
> look like she was going to kill me, I added, "Why can't you just love
me
> for who I am and not for the things I buy you?"
>
> Apparently I'm not having sex tonight either...
I know very well what it's like to be the financial stronghold with the higher sex drive. Anyone that thinks jewelry, or ANYTHING else for that matter, is more important than orgasms and paying bills is a fucking moron.
No wonder I hate women so much.
I'll spare the irony of telling them to go fuck themselves.
Tuesday, October 26, 2004
A few words to say about Rodney Dangerfield -
-I learned who he was at the age of 8.
I needed a baseball hat for gym and picked the one reading, "I don't get NO respect" because I thought it was funny. My schoolmate was impressed, then shocked that I didn't know who he was. He explained, elementarily.
He was the second stand-up I ever saw (bless HBO) - and introduced me to one of my later, most influential comics, same man as all the comics my age - but who STILL have never seen the jokes I taped at age 12 on "Dangerfield's" HBO special.
Both of my fathers think he's a riot....and can quote his jokes.
(My appreciation for his movies came before and after this, but a diamond in the rough - to have something that makes the most two unlikely people laugh.)
That a dorm room of girls would burst unexpectedly into an imitation - quoting the "Ladybugs" trailer - because they thought I too "got a lot of balls."
And the fact that he did not start a stand-up career until his 40s, and did not create his phrase, "I don't get no respect," until 2 or 3 years into his career.
It just came to him, a joke stem alternative, and he knew, the instant the crowd reacted, it worked. He would work.
Even after one of his last operations, he said,
"They told me I might end up brain-dead... I said,
'How would I know?!'"
================
I went to my doctor, and I asked,
"Do you want me to take my clothes off?"
He said, "What? Do you want ME to get sick?"
=================
Passion doesn't drive you that far, unless it really is.
This man did it until he couldn't.
I like that.
I miss him.
One of my most often declarations is
"it's gonna be real bad, ....
or...
really funny."
-I learned who he was at the age of 8.
I needed a baseball hat for gym and picked the one reading, "I don't get NO respect" because I thought it was funny. My schoolmate was impressed, then shocked that I didn't know who he was. He explained, elementarily.
He was the second stand-up I ever saw (bless HBO) - and introduced me to one of my later, most influential comics, same man as all the comics my age - but who STILL have never seen the jokes I taped at age 12 on "Dangerfield's" HBO special.
Both of my fathers think he's a riot....and can quote his jokes.
(My appreciation for his movies came before and after this, but a diamond in the rough - to have something that makes the most two unlikely people laugh.)
That a dorm room of girls would burst unexpectedly into an imitation - quoting the "Ladybugs" trailer - because they thought I too "got a lot of balls."
And the fact that he did not start a stand-up career until his 40s, and did not create his phrase, "I don't get no respect," until 2 or 3 years into his career.
It just came to him, a joke stem alternative, and he knew, the instant the crowd reacted, it worked. He would work.
Even after one of his last operations, he said,
"They told me I might end up brain-dead... I said,
'How would I know?!'"
================
I went to my doctor, and I asked,
"Do you want me to take my clothes off?"
He said, "What? Do you want ME to get sick?"
=================
Passion doesn't drive you that far, unless it really is.
This man did it until he couldn't.
I like that.
I miss him.
One of my most often declarations is
"it's gonna be real bad, ....
or...
really funny."
Sunday, October 17, 2004
Backlogged blog repsonses:
TJ- infidelity
anything you wouldn't do with someone else in front of your partner, outside of frivolous flirting and other minor exceptions, is infidelity to me.
If one hides something from a partner because they wouldn't approve (or kill you), means that either the relationship is in jeopardy enough to make one want to stray in advance, or the relationship was lacking in sexual fulfillment, or had been over for a LONG time.
No matter how harmless, even the slightest tryst exemplifies that you feel your desire comes before their importance to you. Cheating means either the relationship should just be over, was already over, or the other person isn't good enough for you to not want to be faithful.
P.S. - Holly is a plant and strait is a waterway.
stem cell research-
Just like with religion, everyone has their own individual moralities, their own set of personal boundaries that either parallel or extend outside of organized spirituality -
you think it's wrong, that's fine
other people don't that's fine too
the debate should stop there
the right to have an abortion should not be taken away just because you think your own morality is more superior than anyone elses
you have the right to be against it, absolutely -
but it's highly unfair to be angry that not everyone feels they should bow to your disapproval -
you may hate everyone that disagrees with you, but a little silly that you think your ideals should trump someone else's possession of the contents of their uterus-
not your territory -
not your decision -
your stance is your stance, but my uterus is my uterus - worry about yours and leave the rest of us alone-
pray or do whatever you do for the women that have abortions - but don't think that your distaste for killing an unborn "creature," as you put it, is so important that everyone should bow down to you.
Someone else's unborn child isn't your problem or your business, or anyone else's for that matter
everything happens for a reason - your God has constructed it that way -
so the genocide of tiny heartbeats is also a part of his plan -
if society can utilize the disposed goo of murder to help cure defects and disease - good for us - good for the future children who would benefit from any medical advances made from research on that material -
just like with eating meat - cows across the land are not going to stop being slaughtered just because you give a shit -
there will never be a boycott of meat -
what people eat is not your right to control just as someone's uterus is not your right to control
if the "tragedy" is not going to stop just for you - we might as well use the result to further help multiple other lives - one destroyed could have the possibility to cure millions-
i drove my girlfriend to and from the abortion clinic - though, of course, not a pleasant experience, I was in agreement that she did the right thing -
she now owns a house, is getting married, and none of that would have happened if prior she were a single mother incapable of funding a child -
adoption - always a possibility, sure, but if you research orphanages -you'll find that there are very few beds available and only getting much much worse
Bill Hicks once joked that if pro-lifers were that serious about people dying why aren't they chaining themselves to cemetary gates.
"Have you ever noticed that the ones against abortion are people you wouldn't want to fuck in the first place?" - George Carlin
Sorry, I digressed.
If being an under-aged, single parent is peaches to you - so be it -
if it comes up, have the baby, knock yourself out
i'm cool with whatever you think is right for you, whether the world follows your example or not
if all women should give birth just because you think they should, even though they can't provide for them,
maybe they should just start sending all the infants you were able to "save" to your house, if you want them to live so badly.
Encourage the all those religiously pesky deviants that killing an unborn child is wrong by stepping up and telling them you will be more than happy to raise it since they abided by your moral standards.
So, believe what you believe - there's nothing wrong with that - I have no problem wiht your opinion whatsoever - but try to understand that your opinion is not more important than another person's right to make their own decisions .
life and death as we know it, doesn't revolve around you -
rule your own womanhood and embrace the fact that you are not the dictator of anyone else's body or mind.
you don't approve - so what
you think it's a crime - so what
other people don't - so fucking what
I aware this sounds like I am lashing out. that's not my intention, i assure you - my point is only that you take care of your own womb because that's your business and let the rest of us do the same because that's none of your business.
No research links needed. That's just how it is.
P.S. it was released not too long ago that stem cell research can be done from liposuction fat.
Here's to fat asses and unborn children making the world a holier place for Gen.
Eat up, fuckers!
Hell, we might even be able to knock out gluttony as a deadly sin.
Strange and intriguing thought that all aborted fetus will be spared stem cell studies before dumped in the landfill only because some chicks decided to have two cheeseburgers.
TJ- infidelity
anything you wouldn't do with someone else in front of your partner, outside of frivolous flirting and other minor exceptions, is infidelity to me.
If one hides something from a partner because they wouldn't approve (or kill you), means that either the relationship is in jeopardy enough to make one want to stray in advance, or the relationship was lacking in sexual fulfillment, or had been over for a LONG time.
No matter how harmless, even the slightest tryst exemplifies that you feel your desire comes before their importance to you. Cheating means either the relationship should just be over, was already over, or the other person isn't good enough for you to not want to be faithful.
P.S. - Holly is a plant and strait is a waterway.
stem cell research-
Just like with religion, everyone has their own individual moralities, their own set of personal boundaries that either parallel or extend outside of organized spirituality -
you think it's wrong, that's fine
other people don't that's fine too
the debate should stop there
the right to have an abortion should not be taken away just because you think your own morality is more superior than anyone elses
you have the right to be against it, absolutely -
but it's highly unfair to be angry that not everyone feels they should bow to your disapproval -
you may hate everyone that disagrees with you, but a little silly that you think your ideals should trump someone else's possession of the contents of their uterus-
not your territory -
not your decision -
your stance is your stance, but my uterus is my uterus - worry about yours and leave the rest of us alone-
pray or do whatever you do for the women that have abortions - but don't think that your distaste for killing an unborn "creature," as you put it, is so important that everyone should bow down to you.
Someone else's unborn child isn't your problem or your business, or anyone else's for that matter
everything happens for a reason - your God has constructed it that way -
so the genocide of tiny heartbeats is also a part of his plan -
if society can utilize the disposed goo of murder to help cure defects and disease - good for us - good for the future children who would benefit from any medical advances made from research on that material -
just like with eating meat - cows across the land are not going to stop being slaughtered just because you give a shit -
there will never be a boycott of meat -
what people eat is not your right to control just as someone's uterus is not your right to control
if the "tragedy" is not going to stop just for you - we might as well use the result to further help multiple other lives - one destroyed could have the possibility to cure millions-
i drove my girlfriend to and from the abortion clinic - though, of course, not a pleasant experience, I was in agreement that she did the right thing -
she now owns a house, is getting married, and none of that would have happened if prior she were a single mother incapable of funding a child -
adoption - always a possibility, sure, but if you research orphanages -you'll find that there are very few beds available and only getting much much worse
Bill Hicks once joked that if pro-lifers were that serious about people dying why aren't they chaining themselves to cemetary gates.
"Have you ever noticed that the ones against abortion are people you wouldn't want to fuck in the first place?" - George Carlin
Sorry, I digressed.
If being an under-aged, single parent is peaches to you - so be it -
if it comes up, have the baby, knock yourself out
i'm cool with whatever you think is right for you, whether the world follows your example or not
if all women should give birth just because you think they should, even though they can't provide for them,
maybe they should just start sending all the infants you were able to "save" to your house, if you want them to live so badly.
Encourage the all those religiously pesky deviants that killing an unborn child is wrong by stepping up and telling them you will be more than happy to raise it since they abided by your moral standards.
So, believe what you believe - there's nothing wrong with that - I have no problem wiht your opinion whatsoever - but try to understand that your opinion is not more important than another person's right to make their own decisions .
life and death as we know it, doesn't revolve around you -
rule your own womanhood and embrace the fact that you are not the dictator of anyone else's body or mind.
you don't approve - so what
you think it's a crime - so what
other people don't - so fucking what
I aware this sounds like I am lashing out. that's not my intention, i assure you - my point is only that you take care of your own womb because that's your business and let the rest of us do the same because that's none of your business.
No research links needed. That's just how it is.
P.S. it was released not too long ago that stem cell research can be done from liposuction fat.
Here's to fat asses and unborn children making the world a holier place for Gen.
Eat up, fuckers!
Hell, we might even be able to knock out gluttony as a deadly sin.
Strange and intriguing thought that all aborted fetus will be spared stem cell studies before dumped in the landfill only because some chicks decided to have two cheeseburgers.
Tuesday, October 12, 2004
Monday, October 11, 2004
Gen, I have recently been on the other end of that declaration.
"I'm not your last [girl]friend."
I'm (unfortunately) old enough to know that it wasn't the direct projection that caused that reaction.
Some people have been hurt so badly that any sliver of parallel throws them into the stance that THAT will never happen again.
It sucks, yes.
It's someone else's fault and you are needlessly displaced for it, yes.
But it may be a small consolation, if anything,
that they don't want that pain to happen again,
and the only reason you are made aware of it -
is that they don't want it to happen again with you.
+++
Either that or they can't let go and all things will be held up to that crap relationship as substandard-
I've been on the receiving end of that one, too.
Whatever the situation might be - this is a VERY good job.
I've only known you for a short time, but I have box loads of credentials that can prove I have the full authority to say - GOOD job.
Good job, good for you, keep it.
Lots o' contacts, potential REALLY decent money, potential moving up, and discounted entertainment.
Hope the dude is worthy of you, I really do.
If not, the job is worth it.
I hope you are as happy as I am for you.
Move on with your bad ass self.
Keep on movin', honey.
You've kept your face up more than I ever would have been able to at your age.
If anyone can stop you,
I'd be the first to not believe it.
Inspiration comes from the most unlikely of places sometimes.
And I thank you.
"I'm not your last [girl]friend."
I'm (unfortunately) old enough to know that it wasn't the direct projection that caused that reaction.
Some people have been hurt so badly that any sliver of parallel throws them into the stance that THAT will never happen again.
It sucks, yes.
It's someone else's fault and you are needlessly displaced for it, yes.
But it may be a small consolation, if anything,
that they don't want that pain to happen again,
and the only reason you are made aware of it -
is that they don't want it to happen again with you.
+++
Either that or they can't let go and all things will be held up to that crap relationship as substandard-
I've been on the receiving end of that one, too.
Whatever the situation might be - this is a VERY good job.
I've only known you for a short time, but I have box loads of credentials that can prove I have the full authority to say - GOOD job.
Good job, good for you, keep it.
Lots o' contacts, potential REALLY decent money, potential moving up, and discounted entertainment.
Hope the dude is worthy of you, I really do.
If not, the job is worth it.
I hope you are as happy as I am for you.
Move on with your bad ass self.
Keep on movin', honey.
You've kept your face up more than I ever would have been able to at your age.
If anyone can stop you,
I'd be the first to not believe it.
Inspiration comes from the most unlikely of places sometimes.
And I thank you.
Friday, October 01, 2004
Presidential Debate:
Fascinating, absolutely fascinating.
I was so impressed with Kerry's response to the "loaded" question of what do they believe each other's personal characteristics would stop them from being a good candidate.
I was pleased that the question was given to Bush first.
Once Kerry had the floor, he said responded that it wasn't his job to analyze Bush's character only his ability to do the job correctly.
(I'm paraphrasing, and am going to have to go back and actually watch it to get an accurate transcription SINCE IT WAS FOR SOME REASON EXCLUDED FROM THE MSNBC WEBSITE TRANSCRIPTION).
I was impressed that he totally shut down the question, only to be interrupted
with...
And so I acknowledge that his daughters—I‘ve watched them.
I‘ve chuckled a few times at some of their comments.
(LAUGHTER)
And...
BUSH: I‘m trying to put a leash on them.
(LAUGHTER)
KERRY: Well, I know. I‘ve learned not to do that.
(also, something that was failed to be mentioned in the LAS VEGAS REVIEW JOURNAL - it would have possibly negated their caption "neither candidate made any glaring mistakes or scored any personal comments"
They called no attention to the leash comment, but instead ended the debate on HOMELAND SECURITY article with this:
"Bush's daughters raised eyebrows this summer with an irreverant speech at the Republican Convention. In July, Jenna drew headlines when she stuck her tongue out at the national press corp while campaigning with her father."
Somehow, that doesn't make me feel very safe.
Another interesting thing about our newspaper, the article right underneath it containing a debate about the debate (actually the longer of the two) says "shit." The LVRJ printed the word shit on the FRONT page in a HEADLINE article describing the first presidential debate. Funnily, that particular article is the only one of the two that can be accessed online. Or I'd give you the link to both!
http://www.reviewjournal.com/lvrj_home/2004/Oct-01-Fri-2004/news/24894344.html
Yeah, the one about the actual election coverage cannot be accessed through their website.
Equally interesting, on August 13, 2004, according to CNN and other news sources, the Las Vegas-Review Journal had announced it's endorsement of Pres. Bush.
I can only find the three sentence news story on this. I cannot find any information on it on the LVRJ website at all.
If anyone has anything on it, let me know.
Because I can certainly see how it's working out.
Also,
I have researched physical behavior. You can look it up. Shruggin your shoulders, breaking eye contact, and eccessive blinking are tell tale signs a person is lying.
Joel and I both mimicked Bush's blinking towards the end. We both got headaches, and I felt sick.
If you get the chance the watch it again. Try it.
Bush also opened and closed his statements with religion.
God bless him.
Fascinating, absolutely fascinating.
I was so impressed with Kerry's response to the "loaded" question of what do they believe each other's personal characteristics would stop them from being a good candidate.
I was pleased that the question was given to Bush first.
Once Kerry had the floor, he said responded that it wasn't his job to analyze Bush's character only his ability to do the job correctly.
(I'm paraphrasing, and am going to have to go back and actually watch it to get an accurate transcription SINCE IT WAS FOR SOME REASON EXCLUDED FROM THE MSNBC WEBSITE TRANSCRIPTION).
I was impressed that he totally shut down the question, only to be interrupted
with...
And so I acknowledge that his daughters—I‘ve watched them.
I‘ve chuckled a few times at some of their comments.
(LAUGHTER)
And...
BUSH: I‘m trying to put a leash on them.
(LAUGHTER)
KERRY: Well, I know. I‘ve learned not to do that.
(also, something that was failed to be mentioned in the LAS VEGAS REVIEW JOURNAL - it would have possibly negated their caption "neither candidate made any glaring mistakes or scored any personal comments"
They called no attention to the leash comment, but instead ended the debate on HOMELAND SECURITY article with this:
"Bush's daughters raised eyebrows this summer with an irreverant speech at the Republican Convention. In July, Jenna drew headlines when she stuck her tongue out at the national press corp while campaigning with her father."
Somehow, that doesn't make me feel very safe.
Another interesting thing about our newspaper, the article right underneath it containing a debate about the debate (actually the longer of the two) says "shit." The LVRJ printed the word shit on the FRONT page in a HEADLINE article describing the first presidential debate. Funnily, that particular article is the only one of the two that can be accessed online. Or I'd give you the link to both!
http://www.reviewjournal.com/lvrj_home/2004/Oct-01-Fri-2004/news/24894344.html
Yeah, the one about the actual election coverage cannot be accessed through their website.
Equally interesting, on August 13, 2004, according to CNN and other news sources, the Las Vegas-Review Journal had announced it's endorsement of Pres. Bush.
I can only find the three sentence news story on this. I cannot find any information on it on the LVRJ website at all.
If anyone has anything on it, let me know.
Because I can certainly see how it's working out.
Also,
I have researched physical behavior. You can look it up. Shruggin your shoulders, breaking eye contact, and eccessive blinking are tell tale signs a person is lying.
Joel and I both mimicked Bush's blinking towards the end. We both got headaches, and I felt sick.
If you get the chance the watch it again. Try it.
Bush also opened and closed his statements with religion.
God bless him.
WHOO DOGGIES!
Tom Sherlock...come on DOWN!
And I promise no employees will be sexually harrassed.
That is until we get ya to the STRIP CLUB!
I wrote you that we were waiting for you to come home for a reason.
I wrote that once to Joel, too.
And I think you know how that turned out.
Having a lot of trouble sleeping lately, but tonight, not angry about it.
So that's cool.
I like to hear when Frank is writing music. It makes me happy.
Like when I come upon Joel drawing.
Or when I say something really, really funny and have to write it down.
Or when I listen to Tom's CD.
Or when Erica's hanging out with a new theatre cast.
Or when Bruce introduces me to a new femme fatale.
Or when get to talk to JayC.
Or when I hear TJ say "suzuki."
Or when Gen reminds me of the simplest things that really do make us happy.
Or when Sherry writes in singular person.
Or when Katrina blogs chud.
Or when John doesn't reminesce.
Or when Shawn blogs food.
Or when Annette, well, does the things that "those people do."
Or when Kyle just sits back, and has a beer.
Face it kids, we're fucking cool.
High five!
Tom Sherlock...come on DOWN!
And I promise no employees will be sexually harrassed.
That is until we get ya to the STRIP CLUB!
I wrote you that we were waiting for you to come home for a reason.
I wrote that once to Joel, too.
And I think you know how that turned out.
Having a lot of trouble sleeping lately, but tonight, not angry about it.
So that's cool.
I like to hear when Frank is writing music. It makes me happy.
Like when I come upon Joel drawing.
Or when I say something really, really funny and have to write it down.
Or when I listen to Tom's CD.
Or when Erica's hanging out with a new theatre cast.
Or when Bruce introduces me to a new femme fatale.
Or when get to talk to JayC.
Or when I hear TJ say "suzuki."
Or when Gen reminds me of the simplest things that really do make us happy.
Or when Sherry writes in singular person.
Or when Katrina blogs chud.
Or when John doesn't reminesce.
Or when Shawn blogs food.
Or when Annette, well, does the things that "those people do."
Or when Kyle just sits back, and has a beer.
Face it kids, we're fucking cool.
High five!
Wednesday, September 29, 2004
Blog to Gen:
I grew up not allowed to have animals, but never wanted a cat.
At 10, the first domesticated cat I petted (gray tabby, but shaggy orangeish), did the "I'm not cool, but I'll let you pet me a couple of times, just long, enough, to get close,
close enough to..."
to pierce my eyeball.
Hey, first time I saw that look. Trust me, now I know.
Never really cared for cats after that.
Until college.
A black and white striped kitten showed up on the doorstep of our apt. with no collar. My roommate was away. I put up posters and knocked on doors, left it outside hoping it would know how to get home. No luck. I fed her and kept the doors open just in case (mine was a typical college apt. the doors were usually open, lived at the beach, owned a keg, you get me.)
After 2 months, I named her Stella after my grandmother. Then she ran away.
Great thing about cats, dogs go to doggy heaven, cats just find better food.
My roommate came back. We decided that since we have all this cat food and the kitten still might come back, we would leave it outside. There were tons of cats roaming the neighborhood if she didn't.
The kitten never came back. However, an older shaggy orangish grey tabby came around everyday. With the open door policy, she decided to start indulging in the free couch space and the involuntary scratching from the numerous baked potatoes.
After a couple of months, I gave it some thought and decided that my roommate could keep her. I told Dena when I got home and she smiled slyly and said that she had already named her.
I asked what?
She said, "Stella."
I never told anyone I had named the other cat.
Nor ever prior mentioned any fondness for the name.
Taken aback, I said that's what I named the kitten! After my grandmother!
She said that was insane, but she named it after the Grateful Dead song.
Not long after, we discovered Stella was pregnant. We were in denial for awhile, but if I'M positive a cat is pregnant. She's pregnant.
Late summer, I was in the bathroom on my day off and Dena at work. Stella came in telling me something was very wrong. Not the type of cat to ask for assistance, there was no doubt. Labor.
ha! I actually grabbed towels. I sat on the floor and called Dena then the neighbors for moral support. It was wild. I didn't know what to do to help her while she writhed in pain in my lap. By then three of my neighbors had ring side seats and occasionally threw out a "Eeeeww" and "Cooool" as I watched Stella do backflips into the wall. The first one was born. All black and did not move for a long time. I was afraid to touch it, but once Stella cleaned him off he began to move. Probably a hard thing to watch if you aren't hoping something won't die. Licking placenta, yeah pretty sick, but I wasn't going to clean him - birds die that way. (old joke, sorry) I wasn't going to grab a newborn kitten, and cats don't use towels, so placenta eating?
okay for cats.
My roommate called and she was on her way home just as the second backflip birth produced another slimy black lump. The neighbors recruited more spectators and suddenly had beer. As they filtered into the tub, I kept fluffing up the towels to cushion the corner and door jam where Stella was taking a break. Suddenly, she wrentched back and howled. It was an awful sound. Pain is a very recognizable sound. She could not even do the reverse wall dismount delivery because she couldn't move. Stella rolled to face the wall and again I was at her station. She screamed and I saw her press the wall, clawing the plastic baseboard runner. Once, twice, growing louder and much more distressed. I had no idea what to do. Gotta give it to the old pros - a hot towel would have given me some business because I was helpless and tripping out because she screamed like she was going to die.
Until I looked down and saw this HUGE black and white striped ass at least three times the size of the other two pointed at my feet. Another lesser yelp, and there she was.
I sighed, turned to the bathtub gallery, and said (verbatum): "Dammit, I now I have a cat."
Stella eventually moved on to better pastures.
No shit, she actually did move across the street of our next place...
because they had better food - and easily justified, better medical benefits and grooming.
She went as she came.
And I have my cat.
Once in class someone said to me, "You must have cats!" I baffled I looked down at my arms to find a massive amount of long red streaks.
Funny, two years later my cat had a second litter (just like the south, everyone I know has an offspring of Stella in Wilmington) and I had one still left to give away. No one had picked her, but I shit you not, looked just like Stella. Same color, same hair, same "Bitch, please!" attitude.
Dena took her. Named after another Grateful Dead song, her behavior was freakyily parallel to Stella, almost the same cat at times.
I say "was" but, rest assured, Althea is currently living in Mayberry, North Carolina and is very pleased with the food.
Cats find us.
And that's very fucking cool.
Bruce,
Like the new picture of Allison Mack. Still not my type, but much nicer without the spiked out hair. I don't personally know anyone with that hairstyle, but every time I see a chick on TV donning one - I automatically stop listening.
Not intentionally, it's some new ingrained reflex that has thankfully saved me from some really bad television. In my defense, I'm rarely in front of a TV at a decent watching hour AND I don't think anyone who ever watched Trading Spaces did not at some point wish for Paige to suffer a fatal stapling accident.
Sometimes a nice body...just doesn't trump the hair.
HA! If I were a guy, that would totally be my mantra.
and I'd be GAY as hell!
I want to see a picture of Allison outside of the photo shoot. I'm wildly curious if she unconsciously presses her breasts together when her picture is taken. Not a knock, it would reveal quite a bit about her acting career - a tick from being successfully specifically marketed on top of just really kind of funny.
Dare you to find one, Bruce!
Like the new picture of Allison Mack. Still not my type, but much nicer without the spiked out hair. I don't personally know anyone with that hairstyle, but every time I see a chick on TV donning one - I automatically stop listening.
Not intentionally, it's some new ingrained reflex that has thankfully saved me from some really bad television. In my defense, I'm rarely in front of a TV at a decent watching hour AND I don't think anyone who ever watched Trading Spaces did not at some point wish for Paige to suffer a fatal stapling accident.
Sometimes a nice body...just doesn't trump the hair.
HA! If I were a guy, that would totally be my mantra.
and I'd be GAY as hell!
I want to see a picture of Allison outside of the photo shoot. I'm wildly curious if she unconsciously presses her breasts together when her picture is taken. Not a knock, it would reveal quite a bit about her acting career - a tick from being successfully specifically marketed on top of just really kind of funny.
Dare you to find one, Bruce!
I figured that I would change my format in celebration of Bruce's Blog Anniversary. Good for you! I'm a big fan. I wish I could post a photo in your honor, but I just got an old scanner so it's coming. No friends my asshole!
It's because of this blog that I was sitting in a strip club at a table while Joel and JayC were at the stage, a Goth chick came out and did a set to Evanesence, as the music died, both Joel and JayC simultaneously turned into each other and looked back at me, I yelled,
"Bruce would have LOVED that!"
JayC yelled "That's what we just said!"
I met you once, and I wished you were there.
I actually learned how to post pictures because of you, too.
Hooray for blogs!
I'm getting used to the format change. I was finding it a bit difficult to want to read my own writing. I wonder if Moby Dick in Gothic font would alter it's perception like that, similar to hearing the laws of physics explained by a native Mississippian.
Hmm, I think I'll try it, but for now -
I blog.
Weird day. Overslept for work, Joel saved my ass. I think other than running tech on a show, calling in sick on behalf of your loved one is the ultimate act of affection. I'm sure there are more, but those just keep coming up most frequently in my microcosm.
Now,
I sleep.
It's because of this blog that I was sitting in a strip club at a table while Joel and JayC were at the stage, a Goth chick came out and did a set to Evanesence, as the music died, both Joel and JayC simultaneously turned into each other and looked back at me, I yelled,
"Bruce would have LOVED that!"
JayC yelled "That's what we just said!"
I met you once, and I wished you were there.
I actually learned how to post pictures because of you, too.
Hooray for blogs!
I'm getting used to the format change. I was finding it a bit difficult to want to read my own writing. I wonder if Moby Dick in Gothic font would alter it's perception like that, similar to hearing the laws of physics explained by a native Mississippian.
Hmm, I think I'll try it, but for now -
I blog.
Weird day. Overslept for work, Joel saved my ass. I think other than running tech on a show, calling in sick on behalf of your loved one is the ultimate act of affection. I'm sure there are more, but those just keep coming up most frequently in my microcosm.
Now,
I sleep.
Sunday, September 26, 2004
One just for you, Eso.
...
I wanted to know what it tasted like.
And I really still can't understand it.
I guess my vanity has not evolved displacement that far outside
of my own personal offense.
Though the reminder should help me deal,
the alpha does not die
(or, at least, it has not).
A fight I will never champion,
odds losing favor each evaporated second,
I still want to win.
The conflict does not exist if I don't.
Huh, that just made me unexpectedly happy.
I hope it did you too.
Kindred is too wasted a word sometimes.
And...hey! My watch is TOTALLY 10 minutes fast! For once, I am right on time, early!
Goodnight, sweetpea.
I hope it was one.
Either way, when you wake up,
you will know I blew you a kiss.
The conflict does not exist if you don't want to win.
Certainly another spontaneously pleasant acceptance speech I've been led to lately, AND I'm totally gonna say that at a commencement!
Mark me, I'll make sure you smile twice at that.
...
I wanted to know what it tasted like.
And I really still can't understand it.
I guess my vanity has not evolved displacement that far outside
of my own personal offense.
Though the reminder should help me deal,
the alpha does not die
(or, at least, it has not).
A fight I will never champion,
odds losing favor each evaporated second,
I still want to win.
The conflict does not exist if I don't.
Huh, that just made me unexpectedly happy.
I hope it did you too.
Kindred is too wasted a word sometimes.
And...hey! My watch is TOTALLY 10 minutes fast! For once, I am right on time, early!
Goodnight, sweetpea.
I hope it was one.
Either way, when you wake up,
you will know I blew you a kiss.
The conflict does not exist if you don't want to win.
Certainly another spontaneously pleasant acceptance speech I've been led to lately, AND I'm totally gonna say that at a commencement!
Mark me, I'll make sure you smile twice at that.
Wednesday, September 22, 2004
My week's snippet:
I go to work, go to rehearse being barefoot and pregnant, and come home to a hot dinner waiting for me.
Fucking fantastic!
My issue:
Nothing wrong with strippers. Okay, the lack of mutual opportunity for a heterosexual lap dance, an appropriate position to actually receive one, and no parallel heterosexual experience to paying an attractive stranger to simulate sex with me, yeah, but those are just my problems.
I may be disagreed with, but I'm cool with that.
I'm sure it happens a lot.
Eh, disease ridden not really a norm for the hired disrober, meth addiction and gambling problem are more standard hazards, safer too!
As for whatever exception, I'm solid the spandex / denim communicability rate is pretty damn low.
Downtown Gordie Brown Iron Law: They're just boobs, man. And GOD BLESS 'EM!
I go to work, go to rehearse being barefoot and pregnant, and come home to a hot dinner waiting for me.
Fucking fantastic!
My issue:
Nothing wrong with strippers. Okay, the lack of mutual opportunity for a heterosexual lap dance, an appropriate position to actually receive one, and no parallel heterosexual experience to paying an attractive stranger to simulate sex with me, yeah, but those are just my problems.
I may be disagreed with, but I'm cool with that.
I'm sure it happens a lot.
Eh, disease ridden not really a norm for the hired disrober, meth addiction and gambling problem are more standard hazards, safer too!
As for whatever exception, I'm solid the spandex / denim communicability rate is pretty damn low.
Downtown Gordie Brown Iron Law: They're just boobs, man. And GOD BLESS 'EM!
Sunday, September 12, 2004
It all goes by so damn fast.
Strange and wonderful overlapping at such speed there’s no time for them to become nostalgia. I wish I could hold them all. I wish I could get them all down.
Life is happening faster than I have the means to record it.
What a fucking surprise, Deanne.
3 decades of repeatedly enjoying the handful of memories they produced,
now reduced to a trinket
by this one year,
this one month,
this day,
right fucking now.
It will take an eternity to smile at them all again just once.
****
We finally gave in and accepted the fact that things will always be insane. We pretty much were expecting that anyway.
We finally gave in and accepted that things probably won’t calm down.
I would add “at least not for awhile,” but neither of us believe that.
There was no basis for expectations.
We just knew there was an adventure goin’ on.
There was no way we could have ever known just how inconceivably many there were.
So much, so muthafuckin' fantastic, so gone too quickly.
I sit here for the brief moment of crickets, sprinklers, cat, and keyboard before the sun will remind me to begin again.
And there he sleeps,
dwarfed by the loveseat.
He sneers quickly at his dream.
No rest even in slumber.
I tell him, “Be happy.
I love you.
You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Every time I look at you.”
Goodnight.
Strange and wonderful overlapping at such speed there’s no time for them to become nostalgia. I wish I could hold them all. I wish I could get them all down.
Life is happening faster than I have the means to record it.
What a fucking surprise, Deanne.
3 decades of repeatedly enjoying the handful of memories they produced,
now reduced to a trinket
by this one year,
this one month,
this day,
right fucking now.
It will take an eternity to smile at them all again just once.
****
We finally gave in and accepted the fact that things will always be insane. We pretty much were expecting that anyway.
We finally gave in and accepted that things probably won’t calm down.
I would add “at least not for awhile,” but neither of us believe that.
There was no basis for expectations.
We just knew there was an adventure goin’ on.
There was no way we could have ever known just how inconceivably many there were.
So much, so muthafuckin' fantastic, so gone too quickly.
I sit here for the brief moment of crickets, sprinklers, cat, and keyboard before the sun will remind me to begin again.
And there he sleeps,
dwarfed by the loveseat.
He sneers quickly at his dream.
No rest even in slumber.
I tell him, “Be happy.
I love you.
You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Every time I look at you.”
Goodnight.
Friday, August 27, 2004
FUCKING WORK
An old Trivial Pursuit question: What is considered the coward's weapon?
At age of ten, I responded – Poison.
Made sense to me. Inject a beef stick with a deadly toxin, go to work, come home, mop the floor, get a bag of lime, wheelbarrow, shovel, 4x4, …mission accomplished.
The printed answer is the gun.
I assume because long distance and ease signifcantly reduces accountability as well as the risk of personal injury.
Still, in my opinion, way way too personal to make the call that it’s a more viable option than poison for the faint of strength. Though much quicker, the gunshot, not that easy to clean up, or watch happen
(the first I've seen true; therefore, the latter I'm assuming).
I’d like to submit a potential question of my own.
What is considered the coward’s confrontation?
My card says- hands down- Email.
Aside from those written to eliminate relaying bad news in person, “howdy” fluff, or intercontinental love connections, email reigns sovereign as the best tool for one-sided defensive agitation. Only problem is that the fear of physical discussion usually tends to produce those tedious, lengthy 7 page messages that the addressee usually skims and deletes, or skims and retains a specific negativity mentioned (normally out of context) solely for harbored ammunition.
No matter how it ends. Or why it began.
An effective, rent-free storage for logging one’s unheard grievances, the coward's relief and sent folder proof pacifies the inability to see that the arguement outgoes one-sided because that is the only one there is.
It’s as much wasted as it isn't fun. The absence of paperwork completely eliminates any opportunity to prove how highly flammable bullshit is.
I'll admit, the delete icon is slightly quicker than torching shit,
but I keep my lighter pretty close to the mouse...
just in case.
Not today though.
I was the first to receive one of these at my job.
At my job.
I responded to the question.
Got another even longer response with no regard to my answer. 6 pages.
Didn't read it, walked into my boss's office and told him were having a meeting TODAY.
I replied back then with the meeting time, explaining that we were all going to sit down, find out what the fuck is the(/your) problem and to stop these emails right fucking now. (though not verbatim, the last six words are quotable).
Meeting, over. No more.
Good for me.
Good for us.
9-10-04
That is, however, until I learned there was another one sent today.
Not copied to me this time, so, cool, not my problem anymore.
Then I was told it was sent as an attachment.
As a .pdf file.
Very unfortunately, I was a little hasty earlier in using the word "unheard."
A slight pat on the back for knowing instantly and telling my boss,
.pdf means it's now everyone's problem.
Fucking work
An old Trivial Pursuit question: What is considered the coward's weapon?
At age of ten, I responded – Poison.
Made sense to me. Inject a beef stick with a deadly toxin, go to work, come home, mop the floor, get a bag of lime, wheelbarrow, shovel, 4x4, …mission accomplished.
The printed answer is the gun.
I assume because long distance and ease signifcantly reduces accountability as well as the risk of personal injury.
Still, in my opinion, way way too personal to make the call that it’s a more viable option than poison for the faint of strength. Though much quicker, the gunshot, not that easy to clean up, or watch happen
(the first I've seen true; therefore, the latter I'm assuming).
I’d like to submit a potential question of my own.
What is considered the coward’s confrontation?
My card says- hands down- Email.
Aside from those written to eliminate relaying bad news in person, “howdy” fluff, or intercontinental love connections, email reigns sovereign as the best tool for one-sided defensive agitation. Only problem is that the fear of physical discussion usually tends to produce those tedious, lengthy 7 page messages that the addressee usually skims and deletes, or skims and retains a specific negativity mentioned (normally out of context) solely for harbored ammunition.
No matter how it ends. Or why it began.
An effective, rent-free storage for logging one’s unheard grievances, the coward's relief and sent folder proof pacifies the inability to see that the arguement outgoes one-sided because that is the only one there is.
It’s as much wasted as it isn't fun. The absence of paperwork completely eliminates any opportunity to prove how highly flammable bullshit is.
I'll admit, the delete icon is slightly quicker than torching shit,
but I keep my lighter pretty close to the mouse...
just in case.
Not today though.
I was the first to receive one of these at my job.
At my job.
I responded to the question.
Got another even longer response with no regard to my answer. 6 pages.
Didn't read it, walked into my boss's office and told him were having a meeting TODAY.
I replied back then with the meeting time, explaining that we were all going to sit down, find out what the fuck is the(/your) problem and to stop these emails right fucking now. (though not verbatim, the last six words are quotable).
Meeting, over. No more.
Good for me.
Good for us.
9-10-04
That is, however, until I learned there was another one sent today.
Not copied to me this time, so, cool, not my problem anymore.
Then I was told it was sent as an attachment.
As a .pdf file.
Very unfortunately, I was a little hasty earlier in using the word "unheard."
A slight pat on the back for knowing instantly and telling my boss,
.pdf means it's now everyone's problem.
Fucking work
Thursday, August 19, 2004
Too many wonderful blogs slipped by these last weeks as they often do. A real shame this time though. Yeah, we always say we'll come back to them, but I know better.
A lot of crazy and beautiful pieces I have lived recently have almost evaporated completely. Nostalgia stealthily snatched them one by one faster than they could travel from eye to hand. All stolen before I had the chance to hold them. From a string of fantastic events only distant flashes remain. I keep straining to focus them, not for escape or to replay so not forgotten, but to remember that I felt that good just so short a time ago.
It has been a year of extreme highs and lows. I have learned to look for their balance whether potentially there or not. I have yet to be denied leveled scales this year, every single time, gift or price.
Even with this fortune, it is still very hard to trust that the next one won't be the first.
My fear a blindfold, I outstretch my arm and wait.
Thursday, July 29, 2004
Wednesday, July 28, 2004
Frank, never stop paying attention to the one thing that you can't stop doing.
Tom, I am sooo your manager. Some people may not know, but I'm a big fan of gangsta rap. You'd have the best entrance sting ever played to a professional spandex-clad man descending a catwalk.
Of course, I accept only under the condition that I get to walk behind you in a hooded robe while air boxing. (I know, wrong sport. I've just always wanted to do that.)
I'm still working on someone angrily pointing their finger toward an exit and commanding, "Get out!" I've always wanted to do that too, but haven't really found my angle yet. There are so few that don't end in incarceration or a lengthy subjection to morons, so I'll hold out for the Pay-Per-View ultimate manager challenge. I'm gonna rock!
...then maybe do Playboy.
Tom, I am sooo your manager. Some people may not know, but I'm a big fan of gangsta rap. You'd have the best entrance sting ever played to a professional spandex-clad man descending a catwalk.
Of course, I accept only under the condition that I get to walk behind you in a hooded robe while air boxing. (I know, wrong sport. I've just always wanted to do that.)
I'm still working on someone angrily pointing their finger toward an exit and commanding, "Get out!" I've always wanted to do that too, but haven't really found my angle yet. There are so few that don't end in incarceration or a lengthy subjection to morons, so I'll hold out for the Pay-Per-View ultimate manager challenge. I'm gonna rock!
...then maybe do Playboy.
Monday, July 26, 2004
Same sex weddings are hot!
I laughed. I cried. I boogied. And got to see a lot of chicks kiss. Fantastic.
It almost couldn't have gotten any better until they played the song from my junior prom. Back then, I was roughly escorted out of the dance by my boyfriend and called a nigger lover for dancing with a friend of mine. This time, overlooking the lights of Las Vegas, I got to hold my girl close and sing in her ear as we celebrated an interracial lesbian union.
(Take that, small town prick)
I found that I am now one of those people who cry at weddings. Eh, I can take it. So, I cry out of joy when I see how happy two people are in love. So, I'm a big ole pussy, fuck it.
It was gorgeous and they were beautiful. Good for them. I was honored to be a witness and an electric slider (Joel forgave me already).
A wonderful time was had and my date was the best lookin' chick there.
Though no Colonel Sanders or rubberbands, there's always next time.
Tuesday, July 13, 2004
Saturday, July 10, 2004
I must lick Christian Bale!
the man bounds and leaps
the power to make out with the few chicks I can stand (chloe, reese, emily),
AND granted the pleasure that I can (for now) only
self-lubricate to...
delivering a social commentary on the music of
HUEY LEWIS AND THE NEWS
and then driving an ax through spmeone's skull
fuck the sun, fuck batman
that is from where heroes are sprung
my hardware and duct tape pounded to my chest twice and raised -
you can fly,
you limey prick
make room
make a lot of fucking room
Whoo!
Friday, July 02, 2004
The big 3-1.
I should have expected it to be a little anti-climatic after last year's celebration, but thanks for remembering, girls.
An Indian lunch buffet with a girlfriend, a card from my godmother, and a call from an ex should have been enough for me to not break my promise, but it wasn't.
I did buy myself a shot at the airport bar and cheered the last few minutes before they slipped away.
Oh well.
At least, I'm older.
I should have expected it to be a little anti-climatic after last year's celebration, but thanks for remembering, girls.
An Indian lunch buffet with a girlfriend, a card from my godmother, and a call from an ex should have been enough for me to not break my promise, but it wasn't.
I did buy myself a shot at the airport bar and cheered the last few minutes before they slipped away.
Oh well.
At least, I'm older.
Tuesday, June 29, 2004
Wednesday, June 23, 2004
For Bruce:
I have to respond. Not only because for the SECOND time in a month, I have turned in my seat at the strip club and screamed - Bruce would LOVE this!, but because shortly after the amy lee chick was a dance for theme night that relates to your photo.
The Scooby-Doo theme song was accompanied by a chick dressed as Velma dancing and then humping the small, stuffed trademark as she picked up her money.
Hilarious.
Oh, and the chick with the red ruler that did "Hot for Teacher" was pretty fuckin' rockin'.
Theme night gotta little old, but you would have LOVED it, Tom.
Good to see you here- you've been missed.
I have to respond. Not only because for the SECOND time in a month, I have turned in my seat at the strip club and screamed - Bruce would LOVE this!, but because shortly after the amy lee chick was a dance for theme night that relates to your photo.
The Scooby-Doo theme song was accompanied by a chick dressed as Velma dancing and then humping the small, stuffed trademark as she picked up her money.
Hilarious.
Oh, and the chick with the red ruler that did "Hot for Teacher" was pretty fuckin' rockin'.
Theme night gotta little old, but you would have LOVED it, Tom.
Good to see you here- you've been missed.
Saturday, June 19, 2004
Another long morning spent with a new stranger that's not so much a pleasure to tuck.
Better here than a cell.
One more altercation and I'm unsure I could have made that promise.
Friend of a friend, a young, drunk small town buck
with everything to prove and nothing to fuck.
Sleep depraved courtesy souring into ultimatum, sharpened finer and poised with every slurred word and mindless suggestion,
he didn't go down quietly or without Resolve.
As the one female possessing the wits that allow compassion to override incessently spewed pathetic, misogynistic attempts at challenge,
I see many women in your wake very satisfied they were forced to fuel your blissful hatred of their rejections.
I don't normally promote my gender, but I am proud knowing that you will sleep alone for many nights to come.
Pull your pud and suck your cud.
Unfounded sympathy and pity are not the same thing. I have no patience for your fruitless lures.
Shut the fuck up, fuck yourself, and pass the fuck out.
It takes a lot to test my limits of southern hospitality.
From experience, don't find out what they are, boy.
You wouldn't like me when I'm inhospitable. Green isn't the color you'll see in tomorrow's reflection.
Count on it.
Wash that fucking blanket
and go the fuck home.
Better here than a cell.
One more altercation and I'm unsure I could have made that promise.
Friend of a friend, a young, drunk small town buck
with everything to prove and nothing to fuck.
Sleep depraved courtesy souring into ultimatum, sharpened finer and poised with every slurred word and mindless suggestion,
he didn't go down quietly or without Resolve.
As the one female possessing the wits that allow compassion to override incessently spewed pathetic, misogynistic attempts at challenge,
I see many women in your wake very satisfied they were forced to fuel your blissful hatred of their rejections.
I don't normally promote my gender, but I am proud knowing that you will sleep alone for many nights to come.
Pull your pud and suck your cud.
Unfounded sympathy and pity are not the same thing. I have no patience for your fruitless lures.
Shut the fuck up, fuck yourself, and pass the fuck out.
It takes a lot to test my limits of southern hospitality.
From experience, don't find out what they are, boy.
You wouldn't like me when I'm inhospitable. Green isn't the color you'll see in tomorrow's reflection.
Count on it.
Wash that fucking blanket
and go the fuck home.
Tuesday, June 15, 2004
Sweet, sweet insomnia.
Throwing her arms around me, an old drinking buddy long time sober,
entwining her legs, forks swirling noodles of blankets,
twisting friction of material turning smooth and cool cloth course and abrasive as it is wound back and forth -
her tapestry curling in upon itself and rising as it tightens in the loom of my blood shot limbs -
What prize does this fairy redeem? Under my pillow awaits only glowing reminders of her succeeding conquest.
Hell, I'd be willing to cough up a tooth and a couple bucks for two winks.
Her gleeful duty brings again the monotonous toss, the montonous sighs, the hatred of my own torturous psyche that allows her to play atop this quilted sandbox.
Maybe if I peed in it, she would abandon to the swings. Nah, liquid makes for better castles. Smelly, grained structures would erect at each exposed perimeter from where even the sheet felt need to snap and recoil. Don't need that. Enough structure awaits me once she leaves me for dawn to claim.
I'll get up to pee, then. She better be gone by the time I get back.
Not an empty threat, mind you. Mere warning for now, I will not surrender.
She knows I will only lie defenseless for so long.
Two can play dirty at these sleepless hijinks.
For my tomorrow is armed with it's own infallible weapon.
I'll give her a 5 minute head start.
More than fair to give her the chance to bow out gracefully, before the wrath is unsheathed to crush her arousal with sighs of my own.
Good night, bitch.
Sweet fucking dreams.
Throwing her arms around me, an old drinking buddy long time sober,
entwining her legs, forks swirling noodles of blankets,
twisting friction of material turning smooth and cool cloth course and abrasive as it is wound back and forth -
her tapestry curling in upon itself and rising as it tightens in the loom of my blood shot limbs -
What prize does this fairy redeem? Under my pillow awaits only glowing reminders of her succeeding conquest.
Hell, I'd be willing to cough up a tooth and a couple bucks for two winks.
Her gleeful duty brings again the monotonous toss, the montonous sighs, the hatred of my own torturous psyche that allows her to play atop this quilted sandbox.
Maybe if I peed in it, she would abandon to the swings. Nah, liquid makes for better castles. Smelly, grained structures would erect at each exposed perimeter from where even the sheet felt need to snap and recoil. Don't need that. Enough structure awaits me once she leaves me for dawn to claim.
I'll get up to pee, then. She better be gone by the time I get back.
Not an empty threat, mind you. Mere warning for now, I will not surrender.
She knows I will only lie defenseless for so long.
Two can play dirty at these sleepless hijinks.
For my tomorrow is armed with it's own infallible weapon.
I'll give her a 5 minute head start.
More than fair to give her the chance to bow out gracefully, before the wrath is unsheathed to crush her arousal with sighs of my own.
Good night, bitch.
Sweet fucking dreams.
Saturday, June 12, 2004
Back at ya, boogie shoes!
Usually in awe preludes using the adjective when I ask, you mean you don't KNOW Frank?
Actually the first draft of that sentence was "Luckily, no reason to back edit this time, but Frank, now I know why there are more."
From an old blog of mine to Teej: not everything is for everyone.
Less of me is usually more.
In my virginal days, I began a place where thoughts ran long and drunkenly sustained past the early morning retraction, but due to their origin, I could never remember the link.
One good thing I may now say about the new blogger format, I found it again.
Considering my original experience with networking, funny that Joel showed me where you go. I haven't been to those personally, but strangely, until now, it never made more sense.
It only is hiding to me. The pointlessness and possible offense now decomposes where it is born over and over, hopefully cast down with (the eternally questioned silent) rotting timber fallen.
That's what sucks about seafood. The challenge is the only reason the worthless expense is validated.
Better to keep it there.
Don't worry.
One hand clapping also makes a sound.
To that rhythm, I am forever dancing with you.
I must run, but I will click my sequined heel to yours soon.
That is a promise.
Usually in awe preludes using the adjective when I ask, you mean you don't KNOW Frank?
Actually the first draft of that sentence was "Luckily, no reason to back edit this time, but Frank, now I know why there are more."
From an old blog of mine to Teej: not everything is for everyone.
Less of me is usually more.
In my virginal days, I began a place where thoughts ran long and drunkenly sustained past the early morning retraction, but due to their origin, I could never remember the link.
One good thing I may now say about the new blogger format, I found it again.
Considering my original experience with networking, funny that Joel showed me where you go. I haven't been to those personally, but strangely, until now, it never made more sense.
It only is hiding to me. The pointlessness and possible offense now decomposes where it is born over and over, hopefully cast down with (the eternally questioned silent) rotting timber fallen.
That's what sucks about seafood. The challenge is the only reason the worthless expense is validated.
Better to keep it there.
Don't worry.
One hand clapping also makes a sound.
To that rhythm, I am forever dancing with you.
I must run, but I will click my sequined heel to yours soon.
That is a promise.
Thursday, June 10, 2004
Things change,
but the same insecurities adapt quickly to new surroundings.
Luckily, no reason to back edit this time, but,
now I know why there are more.
Bad trend.
I like the hiding, now.
Is that why the mouthful trudges back to the handful?
Nah.
Selective passion for mere digestion, that's all.
Vague and unimportant will play red rover later today.
For all, and for some.
But not for me, I'm neither.
I win.
in the
but the same insecurities adapt quickly to new surroundings.
Luckily, no reason to back edit this time, but,
now I know why there are more.
Bad trend.
I like the hiding, now.
Is that why the mouthful trudges back to the handful?
Nah.
Selective passion for mere digestion, that's all.
Vague and unimportant will play red rover later today.
For all, and for some.
But not for me, I'm neither.
I win.
in the
Saturday, June 05, 2004
I should go to bed. I have so many blogs backed up that it's impossible to know where to start from the last place that really didn't leave off properly.
Blogs are strange things, Frank.
I'm an extremely personal person. That's why they are like they are; vague or deleted quickly.
For you, here's one.
Tonight, I saw a concert.
So many circumstances, all as insane as the rest of them (you know what I mean), allowed
a band that i never really knew much of until the week i moved here - saw a picture of bill hicks on their cd cover and explained who he was to a group of strangers, comics
the second concert i went to here - invited that day
the cd i stole
the same cd that was stolen from me
then learned Tj loved them
impromptu invited
next day - joel too
the same place that i always had to go to concerts alone
same place i had been kicked out of two days before i went to SLC to see Joel
I parked on the top of the parking deck because of that - (knowing the long wait to leave later)
Funny, very controlled crowd - no smoking, no bare chests, booo-
but when security made a big show of authority-"WE'RE taking YOU to the holding room."
I was very able to reassure his friends and bystanders that it only meant the exit hallway to the road.
got to dance my butt off- though not knowing the new songs -they switch the back beat a lot from the drums to the melody- i found as long as I kept following the music in circles instead of hard beats - i was never lost
joel had a blast,
lots of good songs -
i like seeing people dance - it means a lot to me- those who are too self conscious to groove - well, there they are (poor things) -
the first night i met you, for instance...
got to have plenty of funky space and turned around to see Joel groovin' in his own -
very fun
we boogied like nuts
i noticed to my right near the end that tj had made his way back near us
i thought he knew we were there
he jammed righteous
so did we
before the last song- i yelled at him and then we were all together
for the final song-
my favorite, too-
we all went ape shit- if i hadn't already been asked prior by security to not light things on fire,
I would have been then
After, Joel and I went up to the truck and hung for a bit - ahem
looking over the strip
all the lights-
nice
as we finally left- a huge fireworks display started going off
(in front of Caesars)-
we were gridlocked-
i grabbed the keys and bolted
we ran to watch
no one else did - though going no where-
but, man,
there was no question-
beautiful
It was a great concert.
Oh,
I forgot to mention:
The band was A Perfect Circle.
he sleeps
I smile
it's early
good
day
Blogs are strange things, Frank.
I'm an extremely personal person. That's why they are like they are; vague or deleted quickly.
For you, here's one.
Tonight, I saw a concert.
So many circumstances, all as insane as the rest of them (you know what I mean), allowed
a band that i never really knew much of until the week i moved here - saw a picture of bill hicks on their cd cover and explained who he was to a group of strangers, comics
the second concert i went to here - invited that day
the cd i stole
the same cd that was stolen from me
then learned Tj loved them
impromptu invited
next day - joel too
the same place that i always had to go to concerts alone
same place i had been kicked out of two days before i went to SLC to see Joel
I parked on the top of the parking deck because of that - (knowing the long wait to leave later)
Funny, very controlled crowd - no smoking, no bare chests, booo-
but when security made a big show of authority-"WE'RE taking YOU to the holding room."
I was very able to reassure his friends and bystanders that it only meant the exit hallway to the road.
got to dance my butt off- though not knowing the new songs -they switch the back beat a lot from the drums to the melody- i found as long as I kept following the music in circles instead of hard beats - i was never lost
joel had a blast,
lots of good songs -
i like seeing people dance - it means a lot to me- those who are too self conscious to groove - well, there they are (poor things) -
the first night i met you, for instance...
got to have plenty of funky space and turned around to see Joel groovin' in his own -
very fun
we boogied like nuts
i noticed to my right near the end that tj had made his way back near us
i thought he knew we were there
he jammed righteous
so did we
before the last song- i yelled at him and then we were all together
for the final song-
my favorite, too-
we all went ape shit- if i hadn't already been asked prior by security to not light things on fire,
I would have been then
After, Joel and I went up to the truck and hung for a bit - ahem
looking over the strip
all the lights-
nice
as we finally left- a huge fireworks display started going off
(in front of Caesars)-
we were gridlocked-
i grabbed the keys and bolted
we ran to watch
no one else did - though going no where-
but, man,
there was no question-
beautiful
It was a great concert.
Oh,
I forgot to mention:
The band was A Perfect Circle.
he sleeps
I smile
it's early
good
day
got an email from an old friend replying to a picture link from Philly,
all he wrote was - good job and what is an anachronism -
-a nice moment-
I was at work. I stopped a long, frustrating project and responded immediately noting the clock striking in Julius Caesar as my example. No sentiments, no regards.
As it was sending, I saw the reflection of those who were standing over my shoulder waiting for info I had already given them numerous times.
Someone 1500 miles away really wanted to know.
I smiled.
There wasn't a question.
That will always be more important.
Good for us.
Good for me.
all he wrote was - good job and what is an anachronism -
-a nice moment-
I was at work. I stopped a long, frustrating project and responded immediately noting the clock striking in Julius Caesar as my example. No sentiments, no regards.
As it was sending, I saw the reflection of those who were standing over my shoulder waiting for info I had already given them numerous times.
Someone 1500 miles away really wanted to know.
I smiled.
There wasn't a question.
That will always be more important.
Good for us.
Good for me.
Monday, May 03, 2004
Sunday, April 25, 2004
Ah ha!
That's not even a game.
You don't play fair.
What's so fucked up, is that you don't play fair to your advantage.
In 11 minutes, you will walk through that door. Your own door.
Gotcha, motherfucker!
You maybe underestimated my connections, the for once timely arrival of a Delta flight, my knowledge of your schedule, and my uncanny ability to come upon keys.
Then again - who really loses once you are caught?
It ain't me. And I'm DAMN sure it ain't gonna be you.
Man, I like this game.
******************
That's not even a game.
You don't play fair.
What's so fucked up, is that you don't play fair to your advantage.
In 11 minutes, you will walk through that door. Your own door.
Gotcha, motherfucker!
You maybe underestimated my connections, the for once timely arrival of a Delta flight, my knowledge of your schedule, and my uncanny ability to come upon keys.
Then again - who really loses once you are caught?
It ain't me. And I'm DAMN sure it ain't gonna be you.
Man, I like this game.
******************
Wednesday, April 21, 2004
Friday, April 16, 2004
Cling, cling, cling...
May we all take this moment to raise our glasses... and cherry cigarette...
To Joel! On his first theatre review!
It's not only good, it's VEGAS, BABY!
http://www.lasvegasweekly.com/2004/04/15/theater.html
Only being around for a short time, I cannot name the starting point, but I do know
this is a good place to pause
and see where the best begins
again.
I'm glad you came to find out. We all are.
Cheers, baby.
Bottoms (and butt) up, ya Hostess twinkie motherfuckers!
Whoo!
May we all take this moment to raise our glasses... and cherry cigarette...
To Joel! On his first theatre review!
It's not only good, it's VEGAS, BABY!
http://www.lasvegasweekly.com/2004/04/15/theater.html
Only being around for a short time, I cannot name the starting point, but I do know
this is a good place to pause
and see where the best begins
again.
I'm glad you came to find out. We all are.
Cheers, baby.
Bottoms (and butt) up, ya Hostess twinkie motherfuckers!
Whoo!
Thursday, April 15, 2004
Sunday, April 11, 2004
Public service request:
Next time you see a chick with a guitar,
hit her with it.
*Maiming should include - but is NOT limited to -
the hands and mouth -
*I only insert that disclaimer because of the inevitable accessiblilty to a vast array of pianos.
Stop them before they write again!
As I pound my chest twice with my fist and thrust it violently outward to you , I know you understand and got my back.
Don't let me down.
Next time you see a chick with a guitar,
hit her with it.
*Maiming should include - but is NOT limited to -
the hands and mouth -
*I only insert that disclaimer because of the inevitable accessiblilty to a vast array of pianos.
Stop them before they write again!
As I pound my chest twice with my fist and thrust it violently outward to you , I know you understand and got my back.
Don't let me down.
Thursday, April 01, 2004
Hey forget Jesus!
Is that NAKED Jew?!
Ah, opening night and a job in one day?
I don't dare fool. Not this year.
Tomorrow comes early, but tonight you sleep. Restless dreams of circumcisions, retractable pencils and hotel logo stamped paper, champagne and plants that won't ever die, will wake with you.
and then so suddenly...
a nice blog...
Indeed.
Is that NAKED Jew?!
Ah, opening night and a job in one day?
I don't dare fool. Not this year.
Tomorrow comes early, but tonight you sleep. Restless dreams of circumcisions, retractable pencils and hotel logo stamped paper, champagne and plants that won't ever die, will wake with you.
and then so suddenly...
a nice blog...
Indeed.
Tuesday, March 23, 2004
Friday, March 19, 2004
Thursday, March 18, 2004
Why the fuck is everyone else at home today, but me?
Me? Drunk on St. Patrick’s Day?
I can’t imagine what gave it away.
Persuasive pyromania
Failed Blacks & tans
Campaigning to exploit young women
Actually EATING steamed cabbage
Bagging up garbage not affiliated with the party
Accusing the absent of doing drugs without me
Changing the movie venue then leaving
Making understood that I do not understand
Ignoring “Magoos + school night = chick that knows better”
Bullseye, 1, 1, 1, 3, 1, 1, 1, bullseye
Paying $3 for $20 to play $2 of music
Tripping the sticky carpet fantastic with the old chick
Yelling at her boyfriend for treating my man like a pimp
Stalking the men’s room to attack my man
Watching my glasses fall in the toilet while gripping the handicapped bar
Telling him I did not care they were in the toilet as I gripped the handicapped bar
More campaigning to exploit young women
Suggesting MORE beer
Hating every movie anyone has ever liked for no reason
Giving TJ shit for trying to salvage some responsibility
Tucking in a stranger
Bitching at the stranger for thanking me for tucking him in
Making my man set the alarm for 2 ½ hours later
Listening to him laugh and not wanting to miss it
Waking up at the exact time I should have been at work
Finding the guest gone
Feeble excuse to work
Shower, Clear Eyes, Clear Eyes
Seeing my surprise reflected in TJ’s eyes that we were both up
Kissing goodbye sweet, warm slumber
Having to make good on the feeble excuse
Staring at flight maps and slow digital time
Wondering why the fuck is everyone else at home today, but me?
It was a very Happy St. Patrick’s Day.
Indeed.
Me? Drunk on St. Patrick’s Day?
I can’t imagine what gave it away.
Persuasive pyromania
Failed Blacks & tans
Campaigning to exploit young women
Actually EATING steamed cabbage
Bagging up garbage not affiliated with the party
Accusing the absent of doing drugs without me
Changing the movie venue then leaving
Making understood that I do not understand
Ignoring “Magoos + school night = chick that knows better”
Bullseye, 1, 1, 1, 3, 1, 1, 1, bullseye
Paying $3 for $20 to play $2 of music
Tripping the sticky carpet fantastic with the old chick
Yelling at her boyfriend for treating my man like a pimp
Stalking the men’s room to attack my man
Watching my glasses fall in the toilet while gripping the handicapped bar
Telling him I did not care they were in the toilet as I gripped the handicapped bar
More campaigning to exploit young women
Suggesting MORE beer
Hating every movie anyone has ever liked for no reason
Giving TJ shit for trying to salvage some responsibility
Tucking in a stranger
Bitching at the stranger for thanking me for tucking him in
Making my man set the alarm for 2 ½ hours later
Listening to him laugh and not wanting to miss it
Waking up at the exact time I should have been at work
Finding the guest gone
Feeble excuse to work
Shower, Clear Eyes, Clear Eyes
Seeing my surprise reflected in TJ’s eyes that we were both up
Kissing goodbye sweet, warm slumber
Having to make good on the feeble excuse
Staring at flight maps and slow digital time
Wondering why the fuck is everyone else at home today, but me?
It was a very Happy St. Patrick’s Day.
Indeed.
Friday, February 27, 2004
Monday, February 23, 2004
Buddha blog:
The 4 noble truths:
I think “craving causes suffering” should come first.
Actually, I think a better starting point precedes even that.
The origin of the craving is where the journey should begin not at the effect.
What causes one to crave – what is the need? An important identification since suffering derives only as an outcome of its pursuit.
An 8 step spiritual program to overcome suffering is great. I can’t say I’m truly familiar with the parallels of the 8 fold and Christian concepts. I do however think that theology as a means of escape is total bullshit as well as one of the major contributions to its longevity.
Knowing that craving causes suffering and then constructing religious atonement around the attempt to transcend that base truth just strikes me as strange. If one is effectively able to escape the suffering then the craving ends? The craving stops because one figures out proper pain management?
Okay, I’m being silly. It’s easy for me to ignorantly knock a process of enlightenment that I will never attempt to venture, and probably not achieve if I gave it a shot.
Of course, no one really wants to suffer, but therein lies another craving, no? There is suffering even at the core of the path to escape it. If one doesn’t succeed, what then? I suppose most don’t start practicing Buddhism with that attitude, but there is an ultimate goal. The state of nothingness is said to be truly accomplished by very few. I would imagine that such a small success rate would breed a little discontent paired with the fact that you are just not trying hard enough. It always trips me out – the notion within religion that there is always going to be someone better at it than you – when it’s YOUR OWN FUCKING BELIEF. No, that has absolutely nothing to do with just being humble. And I’m dropping that ball right now.
I can see where a state of nothingness is appealing. It’s a commendable feat to transcend into a realm of its true comprehension.
Yeah, all this does and will mean nothing.
But I will never stop craving for it not to.
The 4 noble truths:
I think “craving causes suffering” should come first.
Actually, I think a better starting point precedes even that.
The origin of the craving is where the journey should begin not at the effect.
What causes one to crave – what is the need? An important identification since suffering derives only as an outcome of its pursuit.
An 8 step spiritual program to overcome suffering is great. I can’t say I’m truly familiar with the parallels of the 8 fold and Christian concepts. I do however think that theology as a means of escape is total bullshit as well as one of the major contributions to its longevity.
Knowing that craving causes suffering and then constructing religious atonement around the attempt to transcend that base truth just strikes me as strange. If one is effectively able to escape the suffering then the craving ends? The craving stops because one figures out proper pain management?
Okay, I’m being silly. It’s easy for me to ignorantly knock a process of enlightenment that I will never attempt to venture, and probably not achieve if I gave it a shot.
Of course, no one really wants to suffer, but therein lies another craving, no? There is suffering even at the core of the path to escape it. If one doesn’t succeed, what then? I suppose most don’t start practicing Buddhism with that attitude, but there is an ultimate goal. The state of nothingness is said to be truly accomplished by very few. I would imagine that such a small success rate would breed a little discontent paired with the fact that you are just not trying hard enough. It always trips me out – the notion within religion that there is always going to be someone better at it than you – when it’s YOUR OWN FUCKING BELIEF. No, that has absolutely nothing to do with just being humble. And I’m dropping that ball right now.
I can see where a state of nothingness is appealing. It’s a commendable feat to transcend into a realm of its true comprehension.
Yeah, all this does and will mean nothing.
But I will never stop craving for it not to.
Sunday, February 15, 2004
An interesting Marisa Tomei fact that I did not know-
In 1987-
"She was in the off-Broadway play 'Beirut,' which won her a Dramalogue Award. She was the title character in the after-school special 'Supermom’s Daughter,' which won an Emmy Award. During the 1987-1988 television season, she had a regular role in 'A Different World.' She then returned to the stage in a play called 'What the Butler Saw.'"
++++
I thought it was funny.
Memory:
My old college roommate of superior intellect went off one day on a pot induced rant of "A Different World."
Dena and I had gotten high with him and invited him along to Saltworks (a local Southern grease pit) just to be nice because he had so few friends. We could not afford cable, so we were stuck in that - I'm only in front of the TV at this time and that is the show that's happens to be on, so I watch it OKAY! - stage of life.
We sat there eating as he suddenly asked if we watched the show. Then without waiting for response -seriously, yet musingly, rambled his opinion and dissection of the show. I cannot quite remember his exact poignant babble, but I remember it went on for 20 minutes. Dena just ignored him, but I could not. One of the most intelligent people I have and will have ever met used his gift to give me one of the funniest things I have ever heard.
A thesis - a true thesis - of "A Different World." Of all the things I was so lucky to see this cat do, this was one of the best. Everyone else hated him because of his intellect. I was given a window of understanding because of our cohabitation. He went from the nervous asshole in the back of every English class that challenged everything with bullshit (though brilliant) subtext to the insecure guy that I loved coming home to and being challenged by. I never lost with anything direct. His main problem. You can't normally get a decent fight when you want to start an argument about Pynchon.
His "A Different World" speech was slumming to appeal to Dena. It's was also an appeal to me because he was always jealous that I could turn anything he gave me into comedy that killed. He only did it because he knew Dena wouldn't get it and that I would know it was funny. He made fun of her and the show and our major - all in one, very long fail swoop. I got it. I'll never forget it, or him, or that show.
+++++
I saw "In the Bedroom" with Steve.
He always told me that when we saw movies together I would unknowingly squeeze his hand harder and harder when I felt something really strong.
During that movie, I remember the scene between her and the younger love.
He comes outside to sit with her in her backyard in lawn chairs. He for the first time reveals that he is planning to give up his scholarship for a year or two to stay with her. So in love, his vision of his own future was something that could wait compared to the life that they were living.
His words shot through my soul.
Good acting, Marisa. I could have been looking in a mirror.
I will never forget that look.
I also never forget -
I let go of his hand.
+++++
Once again:
things surface from the past - whether my own or others
the then and now
that only
means something
to me
all the recent anger I tried to concoct against these things
to try to hate myself for my stagnation
that I was belatedly seeing the past to move out of pity
guessing that frustration with the prior inability to progress was solely because of ignorance
here it unfolds yet again
--these elements were not there already--
these are chronologically old in occurance, but new in aquisition
this is why
you were drawn to it
these are why
you now know
your life has been why
here they bubble
here they burst to the surface
I can ascend
as miscellanous history rises to grasp one last hold -
on perhaps its only meaning - to push and then recede-
"borne back ceaselessly into the past"
blanketing the steps behind
with the unending carpet
that finally does indeed
roll ahead
In 1987-
"She was in the off-Broadway play 'Beirut,' which won her a Dramalogue Award. She was the title character in the after-school special 'Supermom’s Daughter,' which won an Emmy Award. During the 1987-1988 television season, she had a regular role in 'A Different World.' She then returned to the stage in a play called 'What the Butler Saw.'"
++++
I thought it was funny.
Memory:
My old college roommate of superior intellect went off one day on a pot induced rant of "A Different World."
Dena and I had gotten high with him and invited him along to Saltworks (a local Southern grease pit) just to be nice because he had so few friends. We could not afford cable, so we were stuck in that - I'm only in front of the TV at this time and that is the show that's happens to be on, so I watch it OKAY! - stage of life.
We sat there eating as he suddenly asked if we watched the show. Then without waiting for response -seriously, yet musingly, rambled his opinion and dissection of the show. I cannot quite remember his exact poignant babble, but I remember it went on for 20 minutes. Dena just ignored him, but I could not. One of the most intelligent people I have and will have ever met used his gift to give me one of the funniest things I have ever heard.
A thesis - a true thesis - of "A Different World." Of all the things I was so lucky to see this cat do, this was one of the best. Everyone else hated him because of his intellect. I was given a window of understanding because of our cohabitation. He went from the nervous asshole in the back of every English class that challenged everything with bullshit (though brilliant) subtext to the insecure guy that I loved coming home to and being challenged by. I never lost with anything direct. His main problem. You can't normally get a decent fight when you want to start an argument about Pynchon.
His "A Different World" speech was slumming to appeal to Dena. It's was also an appeal to me because he was always jealous that I could turn anything he gave me into comedy that killed. He only did it because he knew Dena wouldn't get it and that I would know it was funny. He made fun of her and the show and our major - all in one, very long fail swoop. I got it. I'll never forget it, or him, or that show.
+++++
I saw "In the Bedroom" with Steve.
He always told me that when we saw movies together I would unknowingly squeeze his hand harder and harder when I felt something really strong.
During that movie, I remember the scene between her and the younger love.
He comes outside to sit with her in her backyard in lawn chairs. He for the first time reveals that he is planning to give up his scholarship for a year or two to stay with her. So in love, his vision of his own future was something that could wait compared to the life that they were living.
His words shot through my soul.
Good acting, Marisa. I could have been looking in a mirror.
I will never forget that look.
I also never forget -
I let go of his hand.
+++++
Once again:
things surface from the past - whether my own or others
the then and now
that only
means something
to me
all the recent anger I tried to concoct against these things
to try to hate myself for my stagnation
that I was belatedly seeing the past to move out of pity
guessing that frustration with the prior inability to progress was solely because of ignorance
here it unfolds yet again
--these elements were not there already--
these are chronologically old in occurance, but new in aquisition
this is why
you were drawn to it
these are why
you now know
your life has been why
here they bubble
here they burst to the surface
I can ascend
as miscellanous history rises to grasp one last hold -
on perhaps its only meaning - to push and then recede-
"borne back ceaselessly into the past"
blanketing the steps behind
with the unending carpet
that finally does indeed
roll ahead
Sorry, Frank, forgive me. You never left.
In fact, you can't. No one will let you.
You'd be happy to know that you are every day here - just as you were either at work or just in the next room.
All things you have given and give has become a parallel existence to what you lead.
Oh, the trouble we've gotten you into!
All the things you make us see clearly, all the people we see you set straight, all our petty temporal and eternal doubts and beliefs daily cast down with your smiling wisdom.
A true sight, we are.
It's one of the most amazing things to me - I've seen and done it so often now-
that moment when the topic of conversation has run its course -
everyone has addressed or chosen not to-
there the subject somehow just hangs -
until the finally uttered
"Frank would just say this...,"
unconsciously everyone pulls closer, literally huddling as if also on the edge of ourselves,
a collective anticipation of grins waiting to hear your words paraphrased,
and then upon delivery, on that last word -
all relax and sit back with its truth as we clearly realize just how trivial it all really was.
Relief, satisfaction, and resignation from your fictional observations reminding us of our bottomless debt of rarely being able to get there sooner if at all.
And that's how it ends.
A reclined circle of kindred souls nodding to each other the unspoken "yeah - that is it."
**
As a person, I live for that moment of attention - to see others really want to hear what I have to say. Everyone does.
As a performer, the same desire is there, but, of course, it's more heightened.
Especially with stand-up since those words are my own.
I remember performing one of my best sets in front of one of the largest audiences I've ever had.
Right in the middle, the microphone shorted out.
Before I realized what had happened, I looked up to see about 100 people rushing the stage.
At first, I thought I had once again said something that pissed off the crowd.
I kept going and realized the mic was dead. Reacting and throwing it down, I kept going.
But I'll never forget that feeling. All those people were running toward me...
just to hear
what I had to say next.
Of course, I know you didn't go anywhere. We won't let you.
So many endings
with us huddling in closer,
just waiting to hear
what you will say next.
******
Very perceptive, that Joel.
A superpower without movement.
Only to find its admirers leaning in themselves for just a taste of its power.
****
Have fun at the pah-tee.
I was actually building a finger of my own, if you weren't going to attend.
After getting the loan denied for all the wood along with the failed zoning restriction petitions, it was just better for us all that you go.
Saves me a lot money, legal trouble, and GPS positioning -
Have fun, you lucky bastard.
We miss you.
We love you.
Deanne
In fact, you can't. No one will let you.
You'd be happy to know that you are every day here - just as you were either at work or just in the next room.
All things you have given and give has become a parallel existence to what you lead.
Oh, the trouble we've gotten you into!
All the things you make us see clearly, all the people we see you set straight, all our petty temporal and eternal doubts and beliefs daily cast down with your smiling wisdom.
A true sight, we are.
It's one of the most amazing things to me - I've seen and done it so often now-
that moment when the topic of conversation has run its course -
everyone has addressed or chosen not to-
there the subject somehow just hangs -
until the finally uttered
"Frank would just say this...,"
unconsciously everyone pulls closer, literally huddling as if also on the edge of ourselves,
a collective anticipation of grins waiting to hear your words paraphrased,
and then upon delivery, on that last word -
all relax and sit back with its truth as we clearly realize just how trivial it all really was.
Relief, satisfaction, and resignation from your fictional observations reminding us of our bottomless debt of rarely being able to get there sooner if at all.
And that's how it ends.
A reclined circle of kindred souls nodding to each other the unspoken "yeah - that is it."
**
As a person, I live for that moment of attention - to see others really want to hear what I have to say. Everyone does.
As a performer, the same desire is there, but, of course, it's more heightened.
Especially with stand-up since those words are my own.
I remember performing one of my best sets in front of one of the largest audiences I've ever had.
Right in the middle, the microphone shorted out.
Before I realized what had happened, I looked up to see about 100 people rushing the stage.
At first, I thought I had once again said something that pissed off the crowd.
I kept going and realized the mic was dead. Reacting and throwing it down, I kept going.
But I'll never forget that feeling. All those people were running toward me...
just to hear
what I had to say next.
Of course, I know you didn't go anywhere. We won't let you.
So many endings
with us huddling in closer,
just waiting to hear
what you will say next.
******
Very perceptive, that Joel.
A superpower without movement.
Only to find its admirers leaning in themselves for just a taste of its power.
****
Have fun at the pah-tee.
I was actually building a finger of my own, if you weren't going to attend.
After getting the loan denied for all the wood along with the failed zoning restriction petitions, it was just better for us all that you go.
Saves me a lot money, legal trouble, and GPS positioning -
Have fun, you lucky bastard.
We miss you.
We love you.
Deanne
Thursday, February 12, 2004
It's gettin' a little lonely out here in Bloggville. What's the problem? Ya'll are either busy or up to no good - I'm both, but I'm still typin'! Oh, Joel and Teej are just plain up to no good, but that's my fault - they're excused.
Valentine's Day, you ask?
I'm takin' the boy out on the town for some dancin' and romancin',
... oh! and sex.
Lots and lots of sex.
Screw the hearts and flowers -
I wish a happy holiday and orgasms to you all!
Hell, ya don't even need a date for that!
Enjoy! and, please wash those socks.
You know who you are.
Valentine's Day, you ask?
I'm takin' the boy out on the town for some dancin' and romancin',
... oh! and sex.
Lots and lots of sex.
Screw the hearts and flowers -
I wish a happy holiday and orgasms to you all!
Hell, ya don't even need a date for that!
Enjoy! and, please wash those socks.
You know who you are.
Wednesday, February 11, 2004
There's a lot to be thought of about the unsaid.
Some things are just a lot easier that way.
In situations where the variables change hourly, their outcomes change everything, our desperate need for direction can be overridden by the multiple fears of what will ultimately lie at the end of each possible turn.
Guessing is painful and mostly futile.
Projected outcomes rarely lean toward the happy ones.
Best not explore what dangers may or may not occur.
All options spawn or die, multiply or evaporate with every moment-
Especially every eternal one apart.
It is wise to leave them alone. Yet they are still there - unmentioned - hanging.
The present is the only option. Maybe there are others, but I don't know them. But this of course can't suffice because even then the temporal has to be altered. Not out of fear of what's ahead, but the consequences it will bring. Bumping around time - imposing faulty blinders - this is what it is.
Uncertainty.
Unspoken.
I don't envy you.
I remember what it was like moving here. How hard it was - and determined I had to be - all the loneliness and involuntary battles.
Though it was much different, I catch his face sometimes and see it again.
There's nothing I can do. But he gave me reassurance tonight on a different issue that is applicable -
you showed him you knew and you see what's going on and you care
I do.
#####################
So much in one day, yet I'm boring myself with the relaying of its tale.
Again things surface as a story and end with an explanation of the - for so long - why.
It keeps happening. I thought it was just last year that would sort things out, but I now realize that all sorts itself out when it feels like it or, by chance escapes from my lips by mistake. Years finally looked able to be folded and labeled and put away, underneath the - already large yet recent rising - boxes underneath. Yet I am beginning to consider the idea that these things that pop up and resolve themselves are not because I am no longer forcing understanding, or have abandoned them out of futility, or even resigned to their unidentifiable influences, they are epiphanies with no redeeming merit.
Letting go and definition have been needed for a long time. The light bulb blinking profusely has served overdue endings. But I can't help but stopping for a moment from basking in their release and wanting to kick myself. All the realizations that have happened were so simple. It is if I have failed myself for not sorting these things out sooner. Almost even more angry with myself for not only being too stupid to see things as clearly as they have been all along, but for the looming reality of - I could have lived out the rest never knowing because of my inadequacy to pay attention.
Though, I am glad for the present to hand me the privilege of reflection. I am pulled away from the wonders of circumstance to question just exactly why these issues are evolving and resolving. It's not magical to anyone else. It's past magical for me. The process of telling a story and then hit by the entire background of why I am who I am, what made me who I am, why the story became what it is - is breathtaking at first; and in cases of self-truths, the shock of recognizing your ingrained view has changed without ever knowing before you began, pops open your eyes - and usually makes it difficult to continue.
My own words, my unconscious thoughts, needling their way innocent antidotes, opening the pages while I watch one by one the near infinite ellipses shrink into periods.
Just like my honed ability to handle hard times and crises with minimal delirium and impressive logic, my skepticism emerges because of the occurrences are now becoming a constant. I am taking in these incessant closures now with a nod and impatience instead of glory, awe, and relief.
I should be more thankful that my present is validating itself again. That is always questionable until you see them platform such problems and mysteries with ease. This all had to happen for enlightenment. This all had to happen just exactly this way - just for me - because I'm the only one that would ever understand this. I'm the only one it means anything to. The only one that felt it. The only one that had it. The only one that can put it away.
Revised beliefs are always the more fun. And always the most fun to listen to.
That's another complaint. Joined with the lack of amazement, and irritation with how long it had taken to see what had obviously been there the whole time, leads me into an area of doubt.
Not doubt of the beneficial outcome, but of the frightening prospect that I will only reveal the cohesions and changes - when it doesn't matter anymore.
I'm afraid that epiphanies are only happening because they are disguising themselves as progression from paralysis, when they are solely just a way up speeding up time.
Impatient simplicity angered by stagnation, bubbling to the surface, inducing defunct philosophies and buried psychologies, out of boredom - only to be thrown into boredom with resentment for it's tardiness.
I've never been known for my punctuality.
I should be glad. I am. But there's no thankfulness and the consuming emotion of - now, I CAN...
Just loathing for being yet another person who could successfully deny themselves.
My puzzle is falling together out of uninterest.
My puzzle is falling together out of pity.
Just another reason, (and proud to say, not a gender specific one),
to HATE the word closure.
Funny, endings are the most problematic factors of my writing. Of all I've written, the ones that end began with those. I constructed everything around the ending. Maybe that can be used in the future of why I ramble.
They don't end because I haven't come from that. And I can't ever see it to try. Guessing rarely stems out to positive. I can't imagine traveling back from that would be funny, when the various journeys all conclude with confirmed fears.
I am stuck with myself -
To continue living those stories
And fighting to make them funny.
To the death may it surrender - to anything
But pity.
Some things are just a lot easier that way.
In situations where the variables change hourly, their outcomes change everything, our desperate need for direction can be overridden by the multiple fears of what will ultimately lie at the end of each possible turn.
Guessing is painful and mostly futile.
Projected outcomes rarely lean toward the happy ones.
Best not explore what dangers may or may not occur.
All options spawn or die, multiply or evaporate with every moment-
Especially every eternal one apart.
It is wise to leave them alone. Yet they are still there - unmentioned - hanging.
The present is the only option. Maybe there are others, but I don't know them. But this of course can't suffice because even then the temporal has to be altered. Not out of fear of what's ahead, but the consequences it will bring. Bumping around time - imposing faulty blinders - this is what it is.
Uncertainty.
Unspoken.
I don't envy you.
I remember what it was like moving here. How hard it was - and determined I had to be - all the loneliness and involuntary battles.
Though it was much different, I catch his face sometimes and see it again.
There's nothing I can do. But he gave me reassurance tonight on a different issue that is applicable -
you showed him you knew and you see what's going on and you care
I do.
#####################
So much in one day, yet I'm boring myself with the relaying of its tale.
Again things surface as a story and end with an explanation of the - for so long - why.
It keeps happening. I thought it was just last year that would sort things out, but I now realize that all sorts itself out when it feels like it or, by chance escapes from my lips by mistake. Years finally looked able to be folded and labeled and put away, underneath the - already large yet recent rising - boxes underneath. Yet I am beginning to consider the idea that these things that pop up and resolve themselves are not because I am no longer forcing understanding, or have abandoned them out of futility, or even resigned to their unidentifiable influences, they are epiphanies with no redeeming merit.
Letting go and definition have been needed for a long time. The light bulb blinking profusely has served overdue endings. But I can't help but stopping for a moment from basking in their release and wanting to kick myself. All the realizations that have happened were so simple. It is if I have failed myself for not sorting these things out sooner. Almost even more angry with myself for not only being too stupid to see things as clearly as they have been all along, but for the looming reality of - I could have lived out the rest never knowing because of my inadequacy to pay attention.
Though, I am glad for the present to hand me the privilege of reflection. I am pulled away from the wonders of circumstance to question just exactly why these issues are evolving and resolving. It's not magical to anyone else. It's past magical for me. The process of telling a story and then hit by the entire background of why I am who I am, what made me who I am, why the story became what it is - is breathtaking at first; and in cases of self-truths, the shock of recognizing your ingrained view has changed without ever knowing before you began, pops open your eyes - and usually makes it difficult to continue.
My own words, my unconscious thoughts, needling their way innocent antidotes, opening the pages while I watch one by one the near infinite ellipses shrink into periods.
Just like my honed ability to handle hard times and crises with minimal delirium and impressive logic, my skepticism emerges because of the occurrences are now becoming a constant. I am taking in these incessant closures now with a nod and impatience instead of glory, awe, and relief.
I should be more thankful that my present is validating itself again. That is always questionable until you see them platform such problems and mysteries with ease. This all had to happen for enlightenment. This all had to happen just exactly this way - just for me - because I'm the only one that would ever understand this. I'm the only one it means anything to. The only one that felt it. The only one that had it. The only one that can put it away.
Revised beliefs are always the more fun. And always the most fun to listen to.
That's another complaint. Joined with the lack of amazement, and irritation with how long it had taken to see what had obviously been there the whole time, leads me into an area of doubt.
Not doubt of the beneficial outcome, but of the frightening prospect that I will only reveal the cohesions and changes - when it doesn't matter anymore.
I'm afraid that epiphanies are only happening because they are disguising themselves as progression from paralysis, when they are solely just a way up speeding up time.
Impatient simplicity angered by stagnation, bubbling to the surface, inducing defunct philosophies and buried psychologies, out of boredom - only to be thrown into boredom with resentment for it's tardiness.
I've never been known for my punctuality.
I should be glad. I am. But there's no thankfulness and the consuming emotion of - now, I CAN...
Just loathing for being yet another person who could successfully deny themselves.
My puzzle is falling together out of uninterest.
My puzzle is falling together out of pity.
Just another reason, (and proud to say, not a gender specific one),
to HATE the word closure.
Funny, endings are the most problematic factors of my writing. Of all I've written, the ones that end began with those. I constructed everything around the ending. Maybe that can be used in the future of why I ramble.
They don't end because I haven't come from that. And I can't ever see it to try. Guessing rarely stems out to positive. I can't imagine traveling back from that would be funny, when the various journeys all conclude with confirmed fears.
I am stuck with myself -
To continue living those stories
And fighting to make them funny.
To the death may it surrender - to anything
But pity.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)