Protection. Everyone need some every now and then. Now it is time for me to take some. There have been many subjects rolling around up here. I am not sure what to cover. Usually if I ramble like this long enough, something will come. I think I am just going to cover how awesome I am. Deal with it. This has come to me in the last couple of days. Whoa. I know this sounds pretty prickish and it is. But the thing is, I don’t remember this enough. Someone else knows this and will recognize. I am OK, and I am going to go ahead and believe that.
Ok, this never really happened:
Now that the dust has settled over the evening I must reiterate my (not) shame, (but that is the first word that comes to mind) for my behavior last night. That has obviously been recapped enough already today. This last bout of behavior brings me to wonder if there isn't something linking my actions to my words. I am sure there is something there, but am having trouble deciding which way this is working. Am I causing my behavior by thinking and writing about similar past behaviors or am I thinking and writing about similar past behaviors because something inside me feels a bout of such bubbling up from deep within my subconscious? This is of course an unanswerable question. I would love to be decisive here but as I was mentioning earlier, this is not a sound byte. My more rational self tells me that both are true.
This is an interesting development for me. I have always been aware that if I could recognize the behaviors that lead to the outbursts, I could stop them. That had been the struggle all along. My uncontrollable temper tantrums had always come with many warning signs, I was just never able to recognize them. I had always allowed them to simmer up inside until my top blew.
This is of course, not what happened. I didn’t have one ounce of anger inside me last night. In fact, I was blissfully dancing all the way till the end.
Fair’s fair, right? Here is where I have the most trouble with pride. I have a serious hero complex, which must seem quite obvious by now. Whenever I get a chance to save the day, I love to jump in and save the day. But what I love at least as much is the praise that comes with it. Oh, this stings to admit, for a true hero, does what he does, and goes on his way. That has happened many times too, but due to their nature, they are not spoken of. Bla Bla. This is obviously one of the ancillary reasons that I would have loved to be an EMT. It combines heroism and martyrdom.
The night, reader’s digest edition:
Sushi was a disaster. We were stuck the moment E called me instead of L to tell me she was meeting us. Because she said, me and not us, I was then 100% obligated. I gave F the head’s up and he was already leery. The fine taco gentleman to my right clearly stated he was only ordering for 5 of us. The waiter disregarded completely. We were in trouble. RS bitch kept eating all of our food and I couldn’t justify eating one bite. Silent mutiny ensued. Two folks left to set up. Others refused to eat so they wouldn’t have to pay (me and you). I ordered tap water and ended up drinking $55 bottled water. I don’t believe in bottled water at fancy restaurants, it just isn’t prudent. Stress and continual smoke breaks transpired. One AJ shared an entire smoke at one point. Stress was on the rise. I put in $100 for the both of us, which ended up being about $20/bite. Seems reasonable. You asked me why we were doing this. I gave you a short rude answer. I shut you down. That was wrong. I am sure it was because I believed after last time that I couldn’t do anything about it. I failed to recognize that maybe you could have.
Off to the club. We get into the car, L in front of course. As you know, I prefer you there. She is a horrible side seat driver. Why did you go that way, you cannot go that way, turn, don’t turn. Wipers on. Please sit with me. After some driving around nonsense, we finally valet the Pontiac at the club. I am scrambled and had already been told that I was on the list but you two were not. That was all I was thinking when I walked into the door. Well, I didn’t recognize what’s her face standing there and had all of my money ready. I believe at this stage in my life, I can pay the 5 bucks and support the party. It was quite a surprise when she (name please) listed us all. Great, we’re in. Shots. I need a shot, what will it be? L: Jamison. So LA style, the guy asks us if we want coke backs. Yo, we are pros over here. Mine was so full I had to start drinking it before I picked it up. Got a beer to go with it and headed off to find friends. The first thing I saw was F posting up downstairs in the patio. We head. We talk for a while and I mention drugs. I didn’t want drugs, but what the heck. F had just procured some and handed it to me. I asked him what it was: ÇØ´. F cannot do Í∏´´Î he has a deviated septum. I feel obligated now and grab L’s keys and head to the bathroom. I take one look at what I have and realize it isn’t enough to share, put a little on a key and sniff it. I later told F I hadn’t done any, and essentially, for me, I hadn’t. Still a lie, but whatever. Never touched it again that night.
Tacos. We are starving. We head over to pinches tacos. You and I are same paging it again. Señor dude tells us what are his best tacos and (this was presumptuous) I ordered one of each of the two that sounded best for us. You nose pointed, so I figured it was ok, but I should have asked you. Maybe not, maybe it is nice for someone to just get you something that he thinks you will enjoy. You tell me. These tacos curled my toes and my mouth rejoiced in it’s own splendor. You had the brilliant idea of brining back the same to F. Unfortunately, it was too late, for reasons unknown. Still was the right move. You ended up saving a life with one taco, if not two. I picked up some Rick Springfield flyers. He was playing with the sounds of Uganda. Seems like a natural pair to me. More drinking and smoking and trash talking ensue. S’s friend calls me from within the club. I go and get a drink. On my way back, I recognize her. We chat for a while and she wants to go smoke. OK. We talk a bit more and I meet S’s best friend’s ex girlfriend. That was interesting. At this point, the are closing the patio. We split and head for our friends. By now, F is on and starting to rock it. F and I have this long standing thing. I have often been his muse for a set djing and we talked about that today. He was happy to have that synergy again that we shared so many nights before. My eyes were closed and I was rocking the floor hard. By now I am in a world of drunk. I am getting scotch’s and beers handed to me from all over the place. I cannot follow it anymore. I have to use the bathroom. The bathroom line is ridiculous and I pull a move that is seldom seen by anyone else. This is usually reserved for pretty girls and vip’s. I go to the back door and talk to the security guard. I tell him I really need to go and the bathroom line upstairs is prohibitively long. I promise him I am just going to use the bathroom and I won’t make any noise. Quite surprisingly, he let’s me through. As I walk down the steps, I hear his coworker ask him why he did that and he responded, he said he would be quite; he needs to use the bathroom. I quite clearly jedi mind tricked him.
Now we are really grooving on the floor. I am pogoing and screaming at the top of my lungs for F. You and I have now found a really good groove and are shaking our asses off. I go to get you a glass of water or something and a beer and to close my tab. When I return, we are there for about 36 seconds before I see the conflict. I bust through, without any thought. The guy starts yelling at me. I do not respond to any of that. I ask him: What are you here for? Are you here to have fun or to get in a fight with a chick? To have fun, of course. I shove L off of my back and tell him very directly that nothing good is going to come out of getting in a fight with a woman at a club and he should just move on. He did.
F’s set ended. I screamed one more a few times for old time’s sake. And we begin to get escorted out the door. F asks the woman he is with if I can come over. She says of course and tells me where to go. I go to gather you too. You both refuse. I call you both broken down old bitches and get the car. We start of for home. F is beside herself. I try and show how ridiculous it is to be so upset by popping the windshield a few times. We are now making a left off of Hollywood blvd. A short, well dressed man carrying a phone in his right hand had started to cross the street with intention, but the light was red for him. I was trying to go left. I took one look and it flashed on me. I rolled down the window and yelled “Get the fuck out of my way JEREMY PIVEN!” He did, he ran back to the curb.
We moved on. I again tried to get t focused on something else. I hit the windshield again. Urged her to try it. She did. I did it again and CRACK. Oh fuck, I fucking broke the windshield with my fist. She felt challenged at this point and hit it as hard as she could and put another crack in the thing. I look back at you and all I see is a pile with my jacket on top giggling and jiggling. It was so precious. Made the whole ordeal worth it. I lock up the tires entering the freeway and we ride back home fairly serenely, considering the music volume. I park the car and the both of you ask me where we are. We are 3 buildings from F’s place. I decide it is time to go topless. Yikes.
Difficult to detect and very subtle,
the mind seizes whatever it wants;
so let a wise one guard one's mind,
for a guarded mind brings happiness.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
the waiter story
I was waiting tables at a second rate seafood restaurant when I was 18 years old. I had just dropped out of college again (third time already) and moved home from San Diego.
That dick of a manager scheduled me to close again. I looked at my schedule as I strolled around the back of the house, trying not to be noticed. Scotty and Lance had headed over the hill hours ago. The swell was epic yesterday and today held the same promise. I was still a bit blunted from our morning sesh, but nothing out of hand like that time I tried to wait tables on acid. The lunch crowd was typical for a Tuesday. A bunch of blue hairs wanting their stupid soup and salad or $5.99 what the fuck is that? fish special. Vern had 2 tables. She was her usual, nasty self and Rod seemed like he was still drunk and probably was. I didn’t see him even take one table. I spent most of that afternoon in the back, chatting with Carlos in spanish, and doing side work. The usual shit: fold the napkins, fill the sugar caddies, truly mindless. Big Steve (he actually called himself that and insisted we did too) decided that today was get on Josh’s ass day.
“Hey, josh, I am going to count those rolls. There better be 30 this time.”
“Got it.”
“Got it what?”
“Got it, big Steve.”
“I am going to count them.”
“I know you will big Steve.”
My middle finger was flying for no one to see. But that was nothing new. This man was at least 40 lbs over weight and 4 inches too short. He didn’t seem to own a comb or any pants that were not made from polyester.
There hasn’t been more than one table at a time for an hour and a half. Rod was long gone and Vern and I were trading as little small talk as possible. Vern was at least 15 years my senior and a lifer. She had the die job that matched the life she has led. Boring, cheap and mediocre. There wasn’t any money to be made at the table and was scheming to get the hell out of there. I had to take my shot.
“So, Vern, you think there’s going to be a late rush?”
Slanted look “What?” This was not a request to repeat myself. “I’m not closing for you again, Josh. I have plans.”
“Come on.” That was the best I had. I was no match for an old pro like Vern. Whatever favor she had ever done for me was not for me.
“Tony is coming up from Fresno and we are going to Daily’s tonight. I need to get pretty.”
I doubted that was possible but she didn’t. I had just gotten back in to town and was basically broke. I was staying with my mom and dad while I figured out what the hell I was doing with my life. I wasn’t concerned with my life, just that afternoon. I had just run into a girl I had a crush on a few years back and actually believed that if I could get out of here, I could get into there. (I couldn’t) I wasn’t about to let big Steve have his day. My mind raced. Here are the possibilities, I told myself. It is Tuesday and I have had 3 tables all day. It is quite possible that if I do what BS wants and get all of my side work done, we just might close early. It doesn’t happen often, but it does happen. I guess there was just one possibility to me. I went in the back to piss and when I returned, Vern had split. It seemed that BS decided that her services were no longer needed. I guess it made sense. Neither of us had had a new table in a half hour and her last one had just left.
“So, Big Steve, how are we lookin?”
“Side work done?”
“Yup.”
“I’m going to count it Josh.”
“Yup, so how’re we lookin?”
“Give it 15 more minutes.”
It was a quarter to 2 when IT happened. They all came at once. Four two tops, a three top and two four tops. I had seven tables all seated at the same time. I have never even had more than 5 tables at once before. I have to admit I was a terrible waiter. I never did get the rhythm of it and had too much punk in me to serve people. I have always worked in the back of the house but took a shot at the front for the money. Too bad I sucked at it so bad. I had once told a customer to go home and make himself because I was too stoned or indifferent to remember all of his special requests, but that is a story for another time.
I go in. Hi, my name is Josh and I will be your server today. Can I start you off with something to drink?
Water. Water.
I will be right back with your waters.
Hi, my name is Josh and I will be your server today. Can I start you off with something to drink?
Diet coke, no iced tea, diet coke, wait yes, diet coke. Coke please.
I get the first two tables their drinks and head to the third.
Hi, my name is Josh and I will be your server today. Can I start you off with something to drink?
Coke. Iced tea. Iced tea.
I cover the rest of the tables with drinks and get back to table one for food orders.
We have been waiting for 10 minutes for you to come back.
I am sorry. What can I get you?
This is the moment that I realize that I am not going to make it. I dutifully write down their orders and move on. Table after table. After I take down the last order I look down at my notepad to check over my notes. Well what do you know? There isn’t a single thing written there. I grin a bit and head for the door. I often wonder what those patrons were thinking as they saw me stroll by their window waving.
That dick of a manager scheduled me to close again. I looked at my schedule as I strolled around the back of the house, trying not to be noticed. Scotty and Lance had headed over the hill hours ago. The swell was epic yesterday and today held the same promise. I was still a bit blunted from our morning sesh, but nothing out of hand like that time I tried to wait tables on acid. The lunch crowd was typical for a Tuesday. A bunch of blue hairs wanting their stupid soup and salad or $5.99 what the fuck is that? fish special. Vern had 2 tables. She was her usual, nasty self and Rod seemed like he was still drunk and probably was. I didn’t see him even take one table. I spent most of that afternoon in the back, chatting with Carlos in spanish, and doing side work. The usual shit: fold the napkins, fill the sugar caddies, truly mindless. Big Steve (he actually called himself that and insisted we did too) decided that today was get on Josh’s ass day.
“Hey, josh, I am going to count those rolls. There better be 30 this time.”
“Got it.”
“Got it what?”
“Got it, big Steve.”
“I am going to count them.”
“I know you will big Steve.”
My middle finger was flying for no one to see. But that was nothing new. This man was at least 40 lbs over weight and 4 inches too short. He didn’t seem to own a comb or any pants that were not made from polyester.
There hasn’t been more than one table at a time for an hour and a half. Rod was long gone and Vern and I were trading as little small talk as possible. Vern was at least 15 years my senior and a lifer. She had the die job that matched the life she has led. Boring, cheap and mediocre. There wasn’t any money to be made at the table and was scheming to get the hell out of there. I had to take my shot.
“So, Vern, you think there’s going to be a late rush?”
Slanted look “What?” This was not a request to repeat myself. “I’m not closing for you again, Josh. I have plans.”
“Come on.” That was the best I had. I was no match for an old pro like Vern. Whatever favor she had ever done for me was not for me.
“Tony is coming up from Fresno and we are going to Daily’s tonight. I need to get pretty.”
I doubted that was possible but she didn’t. I had just gotten back in to town and was basically broke. I was staying with my mom and dad while I figured out what the hell I was doing with my life. I wasn’t concerned with my life, just that afternoon. I had just run into a girl I had a crush on a few years back and actually believed that if I could get out of here, I could get into there. (I couldn’t) I wasn’t about to let big Steve have his day. My mind raced. Here are the possibilities, I told myself. It is Tuesday and I have had 3 tables all day. It is quite possible that if I do what BS wants and get all of my side work done, we just might close early. It doesn’t happen often, but it does happen. I guess there was just one possibility to me. I went in the back to piss and when I returned, Vern had split. It seemed that BS decided that her services were no longer needed. I guess it made sense. Neither of us had had a new table in a half hour and her last one had just left.
“So, Big Steve, how are we lookin?”
“Side work done?”
“Yup.”
“I’m going to count it Josh.”
“Yup, so how’re we lookin?”
“Give it 15 more minutes.”
It was a quarter to 2 when IT happened. They all came at once. Four two tops, a three top and two four tops. I had seven tables all seated at the same time. I have never even had more than 5 tables at once before. I have to admit I was a terrible waiter. I never did get the rhythm of it and had too much punk in me to serve people. I have always worked in the back of the house but took a shot at the front for the money. Too bad I sucked at it so bad. I had once told a customer to go home and make himself because I was too stoned or indifferent to remember all of his special requests, but that is a story for another time.
I go in. Hi, my name is Josh and I will be your server today. Can I start you off with something to drink?
Water. Water.
I will be right back with your waters.
Hi, my name is Josh and I will be your server today. Can I start you off with something to drink?
Diet coke, no iced tea, diet coke, wait yes, diet coke. Coke please.
I get the first two tables their drinks and head to the third.
Hi, my name is Josh and I will be your server today. Can I start you off with something to drink?
Coke. Iced tea. Iced tea.
I cover the rest of the tables with drinks and get back to table one for food orders.
We have been waiting for 10 minutes for you to come back.
I am sorry. What can I get you?
This is the moment that I realize that I am not going to make it. I dutifully write down their orders and move on. Table after table. After I take down the last order I look down at my notepad to check over my notes. Well what do you know? There isn’t a single thing written there. I grin a bit and head for the door. I often wonder what those patrons were thinking as they saw me stroll by their window waving.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Smorgasboard
ok, I have a lot to cover today. First, my heartfelt condolences go out to my dear friend and his family in this time of crisis and solace.
I realized this about myself today. I am in essence a silly person, not to be taken seriously. This doesn't mean that I cannot be serious or have no serious thoughts, rather that silliness suites me best. This may also be my desire to keep life simple. Silly is much more simple than serious.
I have been reading "What I Talk About When I Talk About Running" by Haruki Murakami this week. It is a fantastic series of essays which Murakami describes his life as a runner and how it relates to his career as a writer. Intertwined in the tales of training and and running are excellent observations and life lessons, especially relating to aging. I have gained much perspective from this week's reading and appreciate it.
I haven't felt lonely much this week. It has started me wondering if I am actually capable of sharing my life in any significant way any time soon. I went through this long period of believing that I was afraid to try to because of the spectacular failure of my last relationship. This still may be true, but it is not what is in the forefront right now. No, I just don't think I am interested or willing right now. I am having some great relationships with friends right now. I am able to be available to them and can really solidify those relationships. I have just moved to a new (again) city and am adjusting to that. I really like the cruise I am on. I guess I miss the intimacy of a partner, but not the commitment. I believe that I am being as intimate as I want to be and am connected to a new community.
My move: Holly shit, my place is fucked up right now. I have a very small place and it is full of things that I am not sure where they came from or what they are. Luckily I am in a neighborhood that I can just place them outside and the wonderful SF fairies will come and sweep them away for me. I have to remain diligent in getting this place in order. I am going to have visitors much more often then I did in LG and welcome that, but that means it has to be inviting. In the end, I know I will get there because I have passion for this place and really want it to work. I have to remember to take it one step at a time and it will get there. Don't tell anyone yet, but I am thinking of taking a few days off next week to really get things together. It really is a cute place with lots of potential, but I have to make some adjustments here and there to get it right. Also, I have no working fridge and need to acquire a microwave.
I have to accept that I am not always as smart as I think I am. This is not me getting down on myself, rather, an acceptance that, for the most part, I am an average human being. There are things I am smarter than others about, and there are things that I am not. This is important to known and will server me well.
Murukami made some interesting points regarding writing that involved practicing daily in order to build stamina. I have not been doing that for myself and he has inspired me to begin to practice. Even if I don't have much to write about, just the act of sitting and writing for at least an hour a day will get me into a good habit/pattern for success.
Back to the beginning. This is all about my nothing and my nothing right now isn't where I am going to live, or where I work. No, it is my social life. Lately it has been quite rich and I am so lucky to have it, but... What? Ok, I guess, just like everything else, I will know what to do when I need to know. Right now I don't need to know anything because I don't have to do anything.
Tattoo: I have been mulling over a new tattoo for some time now. First, I had been considering continuing the story on my left arm around to my right. Then I was considering diving right into my back. My friend suggested, in passing, maybe I should consider a leg. At the time I dismissed it and said, legs don't hurt enough. But, of course, I thought about it later and now think that is probably a good idea. I kinda resent her for this. I am an instigator, she is an instegator. It is not good to have two in the same room, especially two that trust each other so much. She has a way of planting seeds just so. I know that I am fertile soil, but somehow she has a knack with me. First it was coffee, then beer (I have been a beer drinker for very short periods of times in my life and will see how long this one lasts) and now the leg thing. I can basically sleeve my right calf around my first tattoo and that would be a good place to start my new project. The point there is to start my new theme someplace that isn't such prime real estate. (I'm not telling what my theme is right now.) Now I need to find someone to work with. I know I will soon. I have only been in the city for a week now and have already made some fantastic connections.
Now I guess I should get a little raw and serious. I had an anxiety riddled week last week. It was full of excruciating pain and despair. I filled myself with drink and passed out. I woke up several times in cold sweats and panic. There were many times that I wished I no longer had to endure such crushing pain. But I made it.
Let no one deceive another
or despise anyone anywhere,
or through anger or irritation
wish for another to suffer.
I realized this about myself today. I am in essence a silly person, not to be taken seriously. This doesn't mean that I cannot be serious or have no serious thoughts, rather that silliness suites me best. This may also be my desire to keep life simple. Silly is much more simple than serious.
I have been reading "What I Talk About When I Talk About Running" by Haruki Murakami this week. It is a fantastic series of essays which Murakami describes his life as a runner and how it relates to his career as a writer. Intertwined in the tales of training and and running are excellent observations and life lessons, especially relating to aging. I have gained much perspective from this week's reading and appreciate it.
I haven't felt lonely much this week. It has started me wondering if I am actually capable of sharing my life in any significant way any time soon. I went through this long period of believing that I was afraid to try to because of the spectacular failure of my last relationship. This still may be true, but it is not what is in the forefront right now. No, I just don't think I am interested or willing right now. I am having some great relationships with friends right now. I am able to be available to them and can really solidify those relationships. I have just moved to a new (again) city and am adjusting to that. I really like the cruise I am on. I guess I miss the intimacy of a partner, but not the commitment. I believe that I am being as intimate as I want to be and am connected to a new community.
My move: Holly shit, my place is fucked up right now. I have a very small place and it is full of things that I am not sure where they came from or what they are. Luckily I am in a neighborhood that I can just place them outside and the wonderful SF fairies will come and sweep them away for me. I have to remain diligent in getting this place in order. I am going to have visitors much more often then I did in LG and welcome that, but that means it has to be inviting. In the end, I know I will get there because I have passion for this place and really want it to work. I have to remember to take it one step at a time and it will get there. Don't tell anyone yet, but I am thinking of taking a few days off next week to really get things together. It really is a cute place with lots of potential, but I have to make some adjustments here and there to get it right. Also, I have no working fridge and need to acquire a microwave.
I have to accept that I am not always as smart as I think I am. This is not me getting down on myself, rather, an acceptance that, for the most part, I am an average human being. There are things I am smarter than others about, and there are things that I am not. This is important to known and will server me well.
Murukami made some interesting points regarding writing that involved practicing daily in order to build stamina. I have not been doing that for myself and he has inspired me to begin to practice. Even if I don't have much to write about, just the act of sitting and writing for at least an hour a day will get me into a good habit/pattern for success.
Back to the beginning. This is all about my nothing and my nothing right now isn't where I am going to live, or where I work. No, it is my social life. Lately it has been quite rich and I am so lucky to have it, but... What? Ok, I guess, just like everything else, I will know what to do when I need to know. Right now I don't need to know anything because I don't have to do anything.
Tattoo: I have been mulling over a new tattoo for some time now. First, I had been considering continuing the story on my left arm around to my right. Then I was considering diving right into my back. My friend suggested, in passing, maybe I should consider a leg. At the time I dismissed it and said, legs don't hurt enough. But, of course, I thought about it later and now think that is probably a good idea. I kinda resent her for this. I am an instigator, she is an instegator. It is not good to have two in the same room, especially two that trust each other so much. She has a way of planting seeds just so. I know that I am fertile soil, but somehow she has a knack with me. First it was coffee, then beer (I have been a beer drinker for very short periods of times in my life and will see how long this one lasts) and now the leg thing. I can basically sleeve my right calf around my first tattoo and that would be a good place to start my new project. The point there is to start my new theme someplace that isn't such prime real estate. (I'm not telling what my theme is right now.) Now I need to find someone to work with. I know I will soon. I have only been in the city for a week now and have already made some fantastic connections.
Now I guess I should get a little raw and serious. I had an anxiety riddled week last week. It was full of excruciating pain and despair. I filled myself with drink and passed out. I woke up several times in cold sweats and panic. There were many times that I wished I no longer had to endure such crushing pain. But I made it.
Let no one deceive another
or despise anyone anywhere,
or through anger or irritation
wish for another to suffer.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
luck
Heard this today: It's bad luck for someone else to close a knife you have opened. Also heard this: There is no such thing as bad luck, just bad choices. It is generally known to those that believe in luck that this one is important. There are a lot of superstitions revolving around knives and everyone seems to know a few. Knives aren't the point. I am not even sure that luck is the point. Let's find out.
The journey is long and full of obstacles. The path is windy, wrong turns, dead ends. This is what your luck is. Forget the things you think could have done better or different. You could only have done what you did and that is it.
What the hell is it that I am getting at? Again, I suppose patience is in order. I know there is something in here, I know it, but it isn't coming as easy as it does some times. Trust this, it has been one hell of a week and I am tired and disoriented. I alternate between what the hell did I just do and WHAT THE HELL DID I JUST DO. Oh, wait, ok, go.
I guess this is going to be one of those useless posts that make no sense and serve no purpose.
Such bad luck.
We'll see.
The journey is long and full of obstacles. The path is windy, wrong turns, dead ends. This is what your luck is. Forget the things you think could have done better or different. You could only have done what you did and that is it.
What the hell is it that I am getting at? Again, I suppose patience is in order. I know there is something in here, I know it, but it isn't coming as easy as it does some times. Trust this, it has been one hell of a week and I am tired and disoriented. I alternate between what the hell did I just do and WHAT THE HELL DID I JUST DO. Oh, wait, ok, go.
I guess this is going to be one of those useless posts that make no sense and serve no purpose.
Such bad luck.
We'll see.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
meaningless
I am completely meaningless. But that is ok, so are you. I am so flustered right now that I cannot even get my mind to quiet for 5 straight minutes. It is frustrating and frightening. I have some good friends, but no best friend. I cannot trust any one person with everything. It sucks. I suppose that is how it is for most people, but I don’t know. ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■ ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■ I don’t think it a secret and I don’t think there is anything that I am supposed to do about it. Rather, I am not going to do anything about it and now realize it. I read someone else’s blog the other day and he mentioned that he had a “severe crush” on one of his friends and that he believed that she knew it. I wonder if she does; I think she does. Hey, if you are reading this now. Don’t assume anything. I can keep a good secret and ■■■■■■ ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■.
If this ever gets put out, I am in some big trouble.
Will I ever have a real kiss again? I don’t think I won’t but I sure do miss it. Read this today on Facebook: I kissed a girl today and I liked it. I know exactly what he was saying. Rather, what he said triggered something inside me very deeply. I want that again. I want my lips to touch another’s. I do miss that so. The moment when the softness begins to pressure and energy begins to flow. Magical. This kiss is called a lover’s kiss. This is not a luster’s kiss or a mother’s kiss. No, there is something quite different about this one. All the earth’s power crosses between you. One breath chases another and you are lost. Whirling colors, spark. The one you have formed rises and spirals over you. Nothing matters for you are not there. For that moment, time is transcended. Perfected.
I am not OK.
I neglected to get anything to eat before I got on this plane and had no cash on me. I somehow scrounged 6 bucks in change out of my suitcase. That seems like a lot to me, but it was there. I bought a “right bite” snack box. It had a can of bumblebee lemon tuna in it among other things. I got some of on my finger and when I went to take a sip of my fine airline coffee, I got a whiff of my fingers and smelled it. It didn’t remind me of tuna at all. My fingers smelled like they sometimes do after playing with pussy for a while. I know that is very fucking crude of me to say but I believe that it is about time I cut loose a bit in my writing if I am ever going to make anything of it. I found it funny anyway. And it did smell like pussy.
I need a spark. I need a minor miracle to happen. I need something great to happen to me for no reason. I need some dumb luck.
Back to that other thing. ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■ or do anything about it because I simply don’t want anything to come of it. After all this whining that may sound completely untrue. Well, it isn’t completely untrue, but it may not be completely true either. Here is the thing: I was in love with Claire from the moment I saw her. I laid in the brush till I couldn’t anymore and then ■■■■■ her with everything I had. I realize now that I could have or should have been more aware of what was going on with her and less concerned with what I wanted. I feel that ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■. I never want to be divorced again. I realize that this is a ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■ but I guess that is how I am thinking now. Oh, I also know this is not fair to anyone else and is strangely paradoxical. Again, I am only considering myself, but this time in another direction. I have decided ■■■■■■■■■■ so I don’t end up how I did last time. I am doing the same thing by trying not to do the same thing. How fucked up is that?
I am going to ask for help and don’t care about the repercussions.
I am moving to San Francisco in 19 days and have no place to move to. I am going to see a flat tonight when I get home. I am quite trepidatious regarding this place. It is a shared space and I won’t decide before I see it, but it seems like a stretch to think that it will be a comfortable place for Eva. I really want to find a place that is hers and mine in the city; that is right for both of us. I think it will be great. I am really exited for us to move there and begin our city life. It is important to be cautious when choosing a place and get it right. I think I should take more time rather than get the wrong place. This means ultimately if I don’t find the right place by March 1, it will be better than taking the wrong one by then. I also know that I am simply not home that often. I want a rad SF pad that fits us properly and we can hang at and with for a while but I have a hard time paying an exorbitant fee just to have an address that I rarely occupy. I realize this is a tough order to fill. I have to have a place that is awesome for Eva but not too expensive as to feel like a waste.
I cannot pretend to be anyone other than who I am because even when I am pretending, I am still who I am.
I have four more hours on this flight and only 2 more hours of battery life. I have headphones on right now and am listening to music. I kinda forgot that there were other people around and ripped a pretty loud fart just now. And I didn’t care.
♫ I know that you’re dying.
I know that it’s true.
I know that there’s seven thousand things you rather be and rather do,
and I know that you fuck what you love and you love what you fuck. ♫
Later.
If you want to know what used to be where the boxes are, you have to ask me personally. I don’t have any real reason to publish those parts. Call me the FBI or chicken if you like. I know it is the right decision for now but that doesn’t mean I would mind if some people read it. But in the same vein, just because you ask, that doesn’t mean you are in either. I will not let anyone be hurt by this writing including me, so please understand, I would let you if I could, but if I say no, this is why.
I have 3 hours left on this flight and still have 2 hours of battery power left. I took a reading break.
I am jetting forward pretty well today. I had some serious stagnation going on for about 2 weeks. I believe that the motivation is returning and the lull was me accepting the inevitable and obvious truth put before me. The truth can be a vicious bitch sometimes. I think what I wrote about this morning feeling like I had awoken from a really long dream and felt disoriented. Today was tough and confusing, but I made it and am feeling pretty healthy right now. We will see.
I don’t care what Rick says, I like the coffee on airplanes. I think it has something to do with liking to get all scrambled onboard and writing things like this.
When will it end? Now.
At death a person abandons
what one construes as mine.
Realizing this, the wise
shouldn't incline
to be devoted to mine.
If this ever gets put out, I am in some big trouble.
Will I ever have a real kiss again? I don’t think I won’t but I sure do miss it. Read this today on Facebook: I kissed a girl today and I liked it. I know exactly what he was saying. Rather, what he said triggered something inside me very deeply. I want that again. I want my lips to touch another’s. I do miss that so. The moment when the softness begins to pressure and energy begins to flow. Magical. This kiss is called a lover’s kiss. This is not a luster’s kiss or a mother’s kiss. No, there is something quite different about this one. All the earth’s power crosses between you. One breath chases another and you are lost. Whirling colors, spark. The one you have formed rises and spirals over you. Nothing matters for you are not there. For that moment, time is transcended. Perfected.
I am not OK.
I neglected to get anything to eat before I got on this plane and had no cash on me. I somehow scrounged 6 bucks in change out of my suitcase. That seems like a lot to me, but it was there. I bought a “right bite” snack box. It had a can of bumblebee lemon tuna in it among other things. I got some of on my finger and when I went to take a sip of my fine airline coffee, I got a whiff of my fingers and smelled it. It didn’t remind me of tuna at all. My fingers smelled like they sometimes do after playing with pussy for a while. I know that is very fucking crude of me to say but I believe that it is about time I cut loose a bit in my writing if I am ever going to make anything of it. I found it funny anyway. And it did smell like pussy.
I need a spark. I need a minor miracle to happen. I need something great to happen to me for no reason. I need some dumb luck.
Back to that other thing. ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■ or do anything about it because I simply don’t want anything to come of it. After all this whining that may sound completely untrue. Well, it isn’t completely untrue, but it may not be completely true either. Here is the thing: I was in love with Claire from the moment I saw her. I laid in the brush till I couldn’t anymore and then ■■■■■ her with everything I had. I realize now that I could have or should have been more aware of what was going on with her and less concerned with what I wanted. I feel that ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■. I never want to be divorced again. I realize that this is a ■■■■■■■■■■■■■■ but I guess that is how I am thinking now. Oh, I also know this is not fair to anyone else and is strangely paradoxical. Again, I am only considering myself, but this time in another direction. I have decided ■■■■■■■■■■ so I don’t end up how I did last time. I am doing the same thing by trying not to do the same thing. How fucked up is that?
I am going to ask for help and don’t care about the repercussions.
I am moving to San Francisco in 19 days and have no place to move to. I am going to see a flat tonight when I get home. I am quite trepidatious regarding this place. It is a shared space and I won’t decide before I see it, but it seems like a stretch to think that it will be a comfortable place for Eva. I really want to find a place that is hers and mine in the city; that is right for both of us. I think it will be great. I am really exited for us to move there and begin our city life. It is important to be cautious when choosing a place and get it right. I think I should take more time rather than get the wrong place. This means ultimately if I don’t find the right place by March 1, it will be better than taking the wrong one by then. I also know that I am simply not home that often. I want a rad SF pad that fits us properly and we can hang at and with for a while but I have a hard time paying an exorbitant fee just to have an address that I rarely occupy. I realize this is a tough order to fill. I have to have a place that is awesome for Eva but not too expensive as to feel like a waste.
I cannot pretend to be anyone other than who I am because even when I am pretending, I am still who I am.
I have four more hours on this flight and only 2 more hours of battery life. I have headphones on right now and am listening to music. I kinda forgot that there were other people around and ripped a pretty loud fart just now. And I didn’t care.
♫ I know that you’re dying.
I know that it’s true.
I know that there’s seven thousand things you rather be and rather do,
and I know that you fuck what you love and you love what you fuck. ♫
Later.
If you want to know what used to be where the boxes are, you have to ask me personally. I don’t have any real reason to publish those parts. Call me the FBI or chicken if you like. I know it is the right decision for now but that doesn’t mean I would mind if some people read it. But in the same vein, just because you ask, that doesn’t mean you are in either. I will not let anyone be hurt by this writing including me, so please understand, I would let you if I could, but if I say no, this is why.
I have 3 hours left on this flight and still have 2 hours of battery power left. I took a reading break.
I am jetting forward pretty well today. I had some serious stagnation going on for about 2 weeks. I believe that the motivation is returning and the lull was me accepting the inevitable and obvious truth put before me. The truth can be a vicious bitch sometimes. I think what I wrote about this morning feeling like I had awoken from a really long dream and felt disoriented. Today was tough and confusing, but I made it and am feeling pretty healthy right now. We will see.
I don’t care what Rick says, I like the coffee on airplanes. I think it has something to do with liking to get all scrambled onboard and writing things like this.
When will it end? Now.
At death a person abandons
what one construes as mine.
Realizing this, the wise
shouldn't incline
to be devoted to mine.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Sunday, February 1, 2009
esteem
I am having a self esteem problem right now. I am finding a hard time naming one person besides Eva who would miss me if I wasn't around. I am feeling that I am being out-josh'd all over the place. Don't cry for me. I am just trying to get down how I am feeling right now. I want so badly for my power to come back. To feel strong again. All I feel is apathy. I am not sure what I am good at or for. I continue to try and make myself available for favors so I can have a sense of purpose. I need to find a way to just like myself and be happy with who I am and desist impressing folks with this and that. If I am going to be on my own (and it sure seems like that is how it is going to be for me) I have to find a peaceful existence there. What do I do to make this happen. I know I need to go back to retreat and get my head straight for one. After that, I believe that I need to come out with some of the other things. Everyone has a closet, the gays have just monopolized the term. Trust me. There may be skeletons, secrets or some feelings hidden in there. What do you do when you are having such a good time that...
I move in a month. To where? Yea, I will let you know. Special thanks to the guide this weekend, that edge of fear I was feeling was dulled by your hand holding. I owe ya one.
Oh, one manipulator, manipulated against my manipulation and I end up with some egg on my face. Such is life in a manipulators breath. You play the cards you have. Sometimes, others have better cards than you. Time to fold them. Anyway, some may say such bad fortune. I say: We shall see.
Overcome the angry by non-anger;
overcome the wicked by goodness;
overcome the miser by generosity;
overcome the liar by truth.
I move in a month. To where? Yea, I will let you know. Special thanks to the guide this weekend, that edge of fear I was feeling was dulled by your hand holding. I owe ya one.
Oh, one manipulator, manipulated against my manipulation and I end up with some egg on my face. Such is life in a manipulators breath. You play the cards you have. Sometimes, others have better cards than you. Time to fold them. Anyway, some may say such bad fortune. I say: We shall see.
Overcome the angry by non-anger;
overcome the wicked by goodness;
overcome the miser by generosity;
overcome the liar by truth.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
