Our energy would simply prevail…
It is still uncertain, the consequences of our political action. The feeling, I can assure you, was real to the bone. What we represented was a physical manifestation of the fed-up mind-state belonging to a generation weary of watching its parents bastardize the principles on which they grew. Long gone are the ideals of living happily, embracing love, and realizing how much more to life there is than money. This country was built, and then demolished on the concept of credit… money that does not exist; except for in payments you will make for the rest-of-your-life. So look out for number 1, pull yourself up by your boot-straps, and the market will regulate itself. That worked out pretty well, didn't it?
Regardless of the intentions of the leaders who moved us, the change we personified was as concrete as the White House itself. We wanted a country of which we could be proud. The nation we loved had turned its back on us before… but never like this. Never had we lived through such blatant lies-to, and exploitations-of our citizenry… not my generation, not while we could do something about it. There are those who would try to tell us that it made no difference… that it was all the same, regardless. But the differences in our eyes were basic. We were standing up against war, against oil-politics, against predatory financial practices, and hatred fueled by religious extremism. We wanted affordable healthcare and cars that wouldn’t burn holes through our environment or our wallets. Our message was simple: Hope. Just words? Not to us. To us it was the idea that we could educate each other on the wrongs we had been done. Together, we could go about the business of righting those wrongs.
I came into the Grassroots Campaign completely lost, in every sense of the word. I was barely out of school… I actually took my last undergraduate class at a community college in the mornings, while I worked the campaign in the afternoons/nights. My first week was a mess. The first night I made twenty dollars in contributions. I figured there was no way they would ask me back. I hadn’t even expected to go out canvassing that day. But, they gave me the rap, let me watch for a few houses, then threw me right in. I’ve always been a quiet kid, so intruding on people’s personal property and intimate family time seemed wrong at first. But what I… what WE… were trying to do was much larger than someone’s dinner, or jerk-off session, or favorite TV show. We truly believed we were making a difference, both for the outward attitude of our country, and for the history books.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
VIP parking: Very Indulgent Psychotic
This space is reserved for the sick and the twisted. There is no room for normalcy.
...If you're still following, then obviously you have some interest in the culture of the weird and the stupendous. It is becoming increasingly difficult for me, however, to continue to voice my outlook as a Child of Night. The wee hours have been drastically reduced from my existence....
By the way, they call them the "wee" hours, because that's when all the fun happens...
But I digest.
There are people in this world who enjoy the excess of booze and drugs and partying, and the dangers with which these hobbies are associated. And there are those who do not. And then, we have people who partake in the excess, without enjoyment, without... meaning. Now I wouldn't be fool enough to sit here and claim there's an especial meaning behind a drunken coke addled night of tail-chasing; but, I would absolutely make the assertion that there is a goal: to have a kick ass, fucked up, good time. Why would someone indulge in such a lifestyle if they didn't find it particularly fun? ...Because they need it. They have to get away from their reality, and they only know one way how. It's a sad story, that's all too common. But not all of us are this way...
Not everyone is a cautionary tale. In show business, the greats are all characterized as drugged up, overweight, drunk, depressed as shit, 9-pack a day habit types. I'm in the business of walking the thin line between actually insane and projectedly well-adjusted, addicted to fun that drugs bring but not addicted to drugs in order bring about fun. My habits are not necessities, but mere indulgences into the limits the human body and mind can endure.
Take a trip with me sometime and find out how far off you can venture. Join me for the space off... come get out-spaced. Listen to your friend Billy Zane... he's a cool dude.
Happy Summer.
...If you're still following, then obviously you have some interest in the culture of the weird and the stupendous. It is becoming increasingly difficult for me, however, to continue to voice my outlook as a Child of Night. The wee hours have been drastically reduced from my existence....
By the way, they call them the "wee" hours, because that's when all the fun happens...
But I digest.
There are people in this world who enjoy the excess of booze and drugs and partying, and the dangers with which these hobbies are associated. And there are those who do not. And then, we have people who partake in the excess, without enjoyment, without... meaning. Now I wouldn't be fool enough to sit here and claim there's an especial meaning behind a drunken coke addled night of tail-chasing; but, I would absolutely make the assertion that there is a goal: to have a kick ass, fucked up, good time. Why would someone indulge in such a lifestyle if they didn't find it particularly fun? ...Because they need it. They have to get away from their reality, and they only know one way how. It's a sad story, that's all too common. But not all of us are this way...
Not everyone is a cautionary tale. In show business, the greats are all characterized as drugged up, overweight, drunk, depressed as shit, 9-pack a day habit types. I'm in the business of walking the thin line between actually insane and projectedly well-adjusted, addicted to fun that drugs bring but not addicted to drugs in order bring about fun. My habits are not necessities, but mere indulgences into the limits the human body and mind can endure.
Take a trip with me sometime and find out how far off you can venture. Join me for the space off... come get out-spaced. Listen to your friend Billy Zane... he's a cool dude.
Happy Summer.
I'm startin with the man in the mirror.... I'm asking him to change his ways.
I'm toying with this crazy idea... I call it "appreciation." See we've been preaching tolerance in this country for the last few decades, and it's made as much a difference as it possibly could. But, I think, in order to move our global society, our human race as a singular consciousness, to the next level... we need to learn to appreciate one another for our differences. It's not good enough to "try not to hate" other cultures or ways of life, it's time to appreciate what we all bring to the table.
Each one of us is different, even from people in our own culture. We all have our sick fetishes and weird turn ons. I want you all to know that it's ok. I'm cool with the weird shit you're into... hell I might even be into it too. Far too often I've stumbled onto some weird sexual shit on the interwebs (or going into the wrong hotel room) that I never knew existed... and I still get that all too familiar stirring in my pants. So I understand if you're into scratching and clawing, or barking like a dog, or dressing up like Bugs Bunny just to get that extra hot nut. I don't judge people's quirks, and I think if we lived in a more appreciative society, we could actually be open about those inner-freaks.
And it's not even like it has to be sexual. I hate a show, you love a show, maybe there's something I'm missing... maybe there's a critisism you hadn't before considered. I'm just saying, the future is in your hand, and play with your squishy. It's an all too familiar idea and I'm trying to relate this to you on an inter-subjective plane. Unfortunately you can't see through the words of a website into the eyes of my soul, so we can't connect on that level through this medium. All I can do is hope to stir up some kind of mutual feeling in you...my reader...and at this point... my friend... because let's face it, you're the only ones with which I feel comfortable sharing this shit.
But when I say we have to appreciate, I mean that we have to understand and connect the kind of enjoyment we get from the arts and the entertainment and the culture that we relate to; it's the same kind of enjoyment that others get from those with which they relate. You don't have to like hip hop culture, but you should appreciate that it is art and expression at the very least. The emotions expressed are the same, we all have our outlets.
This was a raw draft I pulled up from months ago, but I liked the idea of it while reading it over. I'll return to the concept more eloquently later, when I have more time.
Death to the Dictatorship.
Each one of us is different, even from people in our own culture. We all have our sick fetishes and weird turn ons. I want you all to know that it's ok. I'm cool with the weird shit you're into... hell I might even be into it too. Far too often I've stumbled onto some weird sexual shit on the interwebs (or going into the wrong hotel room) that I never knew existed... and I still get that all too familiar stirring in my pants. So I understand if you're into scratching and clawing, or barking like a dog, or dressing up like Bugs Bunny just to get that extra hot nut. I don't judge people's quirks, and I think if we lived in a more appreciative society, we could actually be open about those inner-freaks.
And it's not even like it has to be sexual. I hate a show, you love a show, maybe there's something I'm missing... maybe there's a critisism you hadn't before considered. I'm just saying, the future is in your hand, and play with your squishy. It's an all too familiar idea and I'm trying to relate this to you on an inter-subjective plane. Unfortunately you can't see through the words of a website into the eyes of my soul, so we can't connect on that level through this medium. All I can do is hope to stir up some kind of mutual feeling in you...my reader...and at this point... my friend... because let's face it, you're the only ones with which I feel comfortable sharing this shit.
But when I say we have to appreciate, I mean that we have to understand and connect the kind of enjoyment we get from the arts and the entertainment and the culture that we relate to; it's the same kind of enjoyment that others get from those with which they relate. You don't have to like hip hop culture, but you should appreciate that it is art and expression at the very least. The emotions expressed are the same, we all have our outlets.
This was a raw draft I pulled up from months ago, but I liked the idea of it while reading it over. I'll return to the concept more eloquently later, when I have more time.
Death to the Dictatorship.
They'd seen his face before...
Nobody was really sure, he was from the house of loooooooove.
Yeah.
Yeah yeah yeah.
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah.
Sorry, I haven't stretched my fingers in a while.
Quick tangent: you know what I like? people who don't end sentences with prepositions. "For which," "to which," "from which nightwalking flooz-queen would you prefer to receive your ZJ?" It's clean. Get my meaning?
Reminds me of something my third grade teacher used to tell me, she used to say "you show me a tropical fruit, and I'll show you a cocksucker from Guatamala." ....no that was a guy I met in the army. -George Carlin
Looks like Grandpa's coming over for a bit. Love him... love my folks... but this place is killing me. I feel like I'm 50 years old living here. The energy is sucked right out of me as soon as I step in the door. The sound of my own name being shrieked across the house has given me a twitch. No exageration. Does it make me a bad person? Fuck. I feel like it does... but I really hope it's just a normal reaction.
Anyway sorry for the downer at the end there... I wasn't expecting it, but it can't be helped. It happens... what? shit? yeah, forest gump. Such a fucking headcase.
Don't pretend like you're not.
Yeah.
Yeah yeah yeah.
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah.
Sorry, I haven't stretched my fingers in a while.
Quick tangent: you know what I like? people who don't end sentences with prepositions. "For which," "to which," "from which nightwalking flooz-queen would you prefer to receive your ZJ?" It's clean. Get my meaning?
Reminds me of something my third grade teacher used to tell me, she used to say "you show me a tropical fruit, and I'll show you a cocksucker from Guatamala." ....no that was a guy I met in the army. -George Carlin
Looks like Grandpa's coming over for a bit. Love him... love my folks... but this place is killing me. I feel like I'm 50 years old living here. The energy is sucked right out of me as soon as I step in the door. The sound of my own name being shrieked across the house has given me a twitch. No exageration. Does it make me a bad person? Fuck. I feel like it does... but I really hope it's just a normal reaction.
Anyway sorry for the downer at the end there... I wasn't expecting it, but it can't be helped. It happens... what? shit? yeah, forest gump. Such a fucking headcase.
Don't pretend like you're not.
Monday, March 23, 2009
M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E Mickey Mouse! Mickey Mouse!
Picture this: Micky Mouse comes home to find Minnie on the kitchen counter taking a royal fucking from Bugs Bunny. Keep thinking about it. Appreciate the depravity in the scenario... Warner Brothers versus Disney, a man finding his love in the lustful throws of an orgasm given to her by his very nemesis and rival, these pictures of childhood innocence and humor in a sick voyeuristic scene of debauchery. Now imagine that Mickey pulls off the red shorts and starts furiously beating off to the debased image unfolding before him. The ultimate cuckold story translated into cartoon characters engaging in erotic betrayal. Bugs turns around and delivers the ever-classic line "Meh, what's up doc?" To which Mickey replies, with his timeless laugh, "My cock! Hah-Hah!" Minnie's just bent over the counter squealing like a little mouse slut, yelling "Oh Mickey! He's so BIG!"
Next thing you know, Porky Pig and Lola Bunny show up with liquor and blow. The five of them start going at it, fucking and sucking and railing lines off each other's naked flesh. They can't tell where one furry animated body ends and another begins. Bugs is giving Lola a rimjob while he fucks Mickey Mouse in the ass. Lola's getting fucked by Porky Pig, who's yelling "Now th-that's some gu-gu-good pa-pa-pu-pu-PUSSY!" Mickey's fucking Minnie doggie style, smacking her ass as punishment for cheating on him, while Minnie is face first in Porky's crack, tossing his salad. Then it starts to get weird...
Walt Disney shows up in a Nazi outfit with Aladdin and Jasmine wearing matching leashes and collars and declares that he'll be directing and acting in this Disney/WB collaboration, and calls for his assistant to assemble the dildo show. Jasmine and Aladdin start prepping by going ass to ass with a double headed rubber dick, Requiem for a Dream style. Disney's agent walks in and says "I love the new production Walt! What do you call it?!"
To which Disney answers, "The Aristocrats!"
....The Aristocrats!
Next thing you know, Porky Pig and Lola Bunny show up with liquor and blow. The five of them start going at it, fucking and sucking and railing lines off each other's naked flesh. They can't tell where one furry animated body ends and another begins. Bugs is giving Lola a rimjob while he fucks Mickey Mouse in the ass. Lola's getting fucked by Porky Pig, who's yelling "Now th-that's some gu-gu-good pa-pa-pu-pu-PUSSY!" Mickey's fucking Minnie doggie style, smacking her ass as punishment for cheating on him, while Minnie is face first in Porky's crack, tossing his salad. Then it starts to get weird...
Walt Disney shows up in a Nazi outfit with Aladdin and Jasmine wearing matching leashes and collars and declares that he'll be directing and acting in this Disney/WB collaboration, and calls for his assistant to assemble the dildo show. Jasmine and Aladdin start prepping by going ass to ass with a double headed rubber dick, Requiem for a Dream style. Disney's agent walks in and says "I love the new production Walt! What do you call it?!"
To which Disney answers, "The Aristocrats!"
....The Aristocrats!
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Excerpt from my journal... (I write in it at work)
I have never had a good grip on my emotions. I have a tendency to fly off the handle, and the slightest things not breaking my way will throw me into a weird place, mentally. I get pissed off, disappointed, and I lay on the attitude real thick. When that doesn't work, I usually say something extreme and walk away until I calm down... which also takes a while. It's probably my only-child upbringing, but I feel like I should make life go my way. I know life is full of disappointments, but it shouldn't be. Life should go our way, and when it doesn't, there has to be hell to pay. Anyone who doesn't agree, does not think highly enough of them self. Since when did it become OK to just get shit-on and take it? "Oh well, that's life, I'll just bend over a little further..." Fuck that.
I'll pay my dues. I don't have a false sense of entitlement, I just expect more out of life... and I'm going to fucking take what is mine. We ALL should. Fuck a cubicle, fuck Mom and Dad's house, fuck this economy and the plummeting fucking stock market. It's time to take this society to the next level by any. means. necessary. I have no more patience for this shit, slow-fuck society. Everyday I drive to work, speeding past lazy slow fucks who drive like they're going nowhere in life. And you know what? They're going nowhere. Fuck 'em. I know people are with me, and it's time to leave the rest of these floundering fucks in our dust. It's time for our generation... our people... to rise up and put this world on notice. There's a caged tiger in cubicle AT, and he's very... fucking... pissed off.
I am by no means a type A personality, get-up-and-go douchebag. I am, however, a self-diagnosed crazy fuck who has had too much unnecessary pressure placed on him from weird fucking directions. So my new goal in life... is to fuck some shit up.
PS: Curse more. Fuckers.
I'll pay my dues. I don't have a false sense of entitlement, I just expect more out of life... and I'm going to fucking take what is mine. We ALL should. Fuck a cubicle, fuck Mom and Dad's house, fuck this economy and the plummeting fucking stock market. It's time to take this society to the next level by any. means. necessary. I have no more patience for this shit, slow-fuck society. Everyday I drive to work, speeding past lazy slow fucks who drive like they're going nowhere in life. And you know what? They're going nowhere. Fuck 'em. I know people are with me, and it's time to leave the rest of these floundering fucks in our dust. It's time for our generation... our people... to rise up and put this world on notice. There's a caged tiger in cubicle AT, and he's very... fucking... pissed off.
I am by no means a type A personality, get-up-and-go douchebag. I am, however, a self-diagnosed crazy fuck who has had too much unnecessary pressure placed on him from weird fucking directions. So my new goal in life... is to fuck some shit up.
PS: Curse more. Fuckers.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Am I Crazy? Or Just Plain Weird...
You may be asking yourself, "crazy... weird... what's the difference?" Well, my so called "well-adjusted" friends, the difference is that crazy people do not have a choice; whereas the weird are simply habitually awkward and strange. I find myself in that emotionally self-reflective limbo, where I can't decide which side of the train tracks my mind resides...the near-side, or the far. I've been searching my inner recesses for the words to describe this personal turmoil I'm experiencing... and this conversation I just had with Erwin provides a small insight into what it is I may or may not be dealing with.
duke: shit.. im still trying to decide if im crazy or weird
erwin: haha
erwin: fuck that
erwin: your duke
erwin: no labels on that bro - your you homes
duke : yeah that's true
duke : sometimes i just trip myself out, over what people might think of me
duke : not that it really matters
duke : but you know, we all have our self-image, the way we see ourself
duke : and then there's the way other people see us
duke : and i get curious about how those images compare to one another
erwin : haha
erwin : yea i hate it when i do that
erwin : cause it knocks me off my game
erwin : and i get all insecure and shit
duke: yeah dude
duke: like i partied at rick's last night
duke: and i got high as fuck
duke: and thats all i could think about
duke: like do these people see me as some weird, fat, awkward guy who can't talk right cuz he's stoned?
erwin: haha
erwin: fuck nah man
erwin: work is already fucking with you
erwin: thats what happens man
duke: it really is man
erwin: its already changing you homes
duke: thats what it must be
duke: cuz i've been feeling geniunely odd
erwin: its work bro
duke: like questioning myself and getting irritated and shit
erwin: you just have to realize you have to be a different person during the day
erwin: yea man i went through thtat shit
duke: and i mean, i do a decent job of being that different person
duke: like i can be totally professional and shit
duke: but when i come home
duke: and now this weekend
duke: it just put me in a weird place
erwin: haha
erwin: thats why you need to get drunk man
erwin: have a balance and shit
erwin: just remember this is work - this aint your life
erwin: its adjustment period homes
duke: the thing about work is...it can infringe on your life, take you away from your personal time even outside of the 9-5 hours. but life, cannot infringe on work, at all.
duke: and i hate that
duke: i feel like it cuts time right out of my life
erwin: its just a means to an end
erwin: shiiet bro - i had to endure that for a year
erwin: fucking really 2nd guess who i am
erwin: remember the fucking times i called you
duke: yeah
duke: i guess im just getting a small glimpse of it
erwin: just dont think about it
duke: shit
duke: i wanted to write about it
erwin: look forward to other shit
duke: but i cant even put it into words
erwin: haha o yea definitely do that first
erwin: and let the defilement begin
erwin: besides, once you get a paycheck - you might just feel a lil different
duke: probably
duke: shit.. im still trying to decide if im crazy or weird
erwin: haha
erwin: fuck that
erwin: your duke
erwin: no labels on that bro - your you homes
duke : yeah that's true
duke : sometimes i just trip myself out, over what people might think of me
duke : not that it really matters
duke : but you know, we all have our self-image, the way we see ourself
duke : and then there's the way other people see us
duke : and i get curious about how those images compare to one another
erwin : haha
erwin : yea i hate it when i do that
erwin : cause it knocks me off my game
erwin : and i get all insecure and shit
duke: yeah dude
duke: like i partied at rick's last night
duke: and i got high as fuck
duke: and thats all i could think about
duke: like do these people see me as some weird, fat, awkward guy who can't talk right cuz he's stoned?
erwin: haha
erwin: fuck nah man
erwin: work is already fucking with you
erwin: thats what happens man
duke: it really is man
erwin: its already changing you homes
duke: thats what it must be
duke: cuz i've been feeling geniunely odd
erwin: its work bro
duke: like questioning myself and getting irritated and shit
erwin: you just have to realize you have to be a different person during the day
erwin: yea man i went through thtat shit
duke: and i mean, i do a decent job of being that different person
duke: like i can be totally professional and shit
duke: but when i come home
duke: and now this weekend
duke: it just put me in a weird place
erwin: haha
erwin: thats why you need to get drunk man
erwin: have a balance and shit
erwin: just remember this is work - this aint your life
erwin: its adjustment period homes
duke: the thing about work is...it can infringe on your life, take you away from your personal time even outside of the 9-5 hours. but life, cannot infringe on work, at all.
duke: and i hate that
duke: i feel like it cuts time right out of my life
erwin: its just a means to an end
erwin: shiiet bro - i had to endure that for a year
erwin: fucking really 2nd guess who i am
erwin: remember the fucking times i called you
duke: yeah
duke: i guess im just getting a small glimpse of it
erwin: just dont think about it
duke: shit
duke: i wanted to write about it
erwin: look forward to other shit
duke: but i cant even put it into words
erwin: haha o yea definitely do that first
erwin: and let the defilement begin
erwin: besides, once you get a paycheck - you might just feel a lil different
duke: probably
Yeah...probably. The truth is I wanted to escape back to work during this weekend. I find myself judging people for not being like me. Then, in a complete turnaround, I find myself paranoid that others are judging me for not being like them. Maybe I'm projecting? God that's such a psychobabble word to use. What I think it really is...and let the psychobabble flow from here... is that I have this subconscious desire to fit in, to be liked by those around me...in a way that puts us all on this alternate plane of inter subjective reality. And I try to do this through commentary that I constantly hope will trigger some thought or memory that rings true within those around me. So when I utter these comments, anecdotes, jokes, what-have-you, and they fall flat on their face...I get that paranoid feeling...that "do they think I'm crazy? or just plain weird" feeling.
I think there is one of two ways this feeling could manifest into reality. Either, it is part of my struggle towards greatness (or at least high enough mediocrity)....OR, I am just having delusions of grandeur...and I'm not headed towards anything great, good, or grand...that I am slowly coming to terms with the fact that I will always be just a regular nobody. I say this because this is the time of my life where I make the push...either toward something big, or nothing at all. And by nothing, I really mean just regular, normal, work 9-5, come home and be boring kind of life... That might be a greedy way of thinking of it, and it might be offensive to those who are happy living that way...but those are my thoughts and feelings, and at the moment, they can't be helped.
And if that makes sense, then please explain it back to me in plain English...if it does not, well then this failed experiment in self dissection cost me nothing more than a few minutes of typing and a lifetime of introspective weirdness.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Send in the clowns...
Where have all the funny-men gone? Richard Pryor - dead. John Belushi - dead. Chris Farley - dead. George Carlin - dead. Dave Chappelle - hollywood exile? Eddie Murphy - no longer funny. Bill Hicks - dead. Sam Kinison - dead. Andy Kaufman -dead.
My list certainly doesn't cover the full spectrum. Shit, I left out all the writers, actors, singers, politicians, philosophers and genuinely weird crazies...as well as so many other comedians. But, my list should give a general idea of the kind of people I'm referring to. Those who told us truth, mixed in a little fictitious hyperbole, and maybe even made us scratch our heads a bit before saying to our selves, "Holy shit! He's right!"
Carlin deserves a special place in comedy history, for actually making it to old age. And being possibly the smartest/funniest comedian to ever live. And, for teaching me true comedy when I was just a small boy flipping through HBO when my parents had gone out or gone to bed.
Of course there are still entertainers that carry on the traditions of these extraordinarily funny people. Will they last? Do they present a similar style of cranked up, opinionated, brash expression? Half of them might, the other half think they're funny enough as long as they use the words "dick," "shit," and "grandma" in the same sentence.
The emotionally crippled truth seekers on the one way trip to terminal island, those were the men who gave us the true wisdom. They played the game of life unafraid of the grim realities that come with full contact. That is to say, full excess of all that the human experience has to offer.
My list certainly doesn't cover the full spectrum. Shit, I left out all the writers, actors, singers, politicians, philosophers and genuinely weird crazies...as well as so many other comedians. But, my list should give a general idea of the kind of people I'm referring to. Those who told us truth, mixed in a little fictitious hyperbole, and maybe even made us scratch our heads a bit before saying to our selves, "Holy shit! He's right!"
Carlin deserves a special place in comedy history, for actually making it to old age. And being possibly the smartest/funniest comedian to ever live. And, for teaching me true comedy when I was just a small boy flipping through HBO when my parents had gone out or gone to bed.
Of course there are still entertainers that carry on the traditions of these extraordinarily funny people. Will they last? Do they present a similar style of cranked up, opinionated, brash expression? Half of them might, the other half think they're funny enough as long as they use the words "dick," "shit," and "grandma" in the same sentence.
The emotionally crippled truth seekers on the one way trip to terminal island, those were the men who gave us the true wisdom. They played the game of life unafraid of the grim realities that come with full contact. That is to say, full excess of all that the human experience has to offer.
"I was a player, not a spectator in this life, sweetheart. I look at herpes the way a skater looks at a scraped knee." -Doug Stanhope (one of the few minds left with some perso-fucking-nality)
We sit in coach, eating the peanuts, sipping five dollar watered-down drinks, seeing only that which the tiny portholes allow...while they fly the plane, twisted out of their gourds, taking full enjoyment of God's widespread greenery...seeing far more than their eyes can possibly admit, and admitting far more than their sight could possibly perceive.
Thankfully, these gifted few lasted long enough to share their crystalline observations with those of us smart enough to listen (and successfully comprehend). But who acts on these gems of advice? Who could live through such doom-struck craziness? Can a normal person possibly handle a life on the edge? And if they could...how long would they last? Only a geek of such epic weirdness could survive under such harsh strain. And the rest...well, they couldn't even begin to understand the fast, loose, and infinitely sharp rhythms of a burnt-out expressioniste.
To the funny, weird, genius men...and women, I'm sure...that somehow rose from the ashes of the City of Night, lit up the sky just bright enough to show us true reality, and then disappeared back into the black abyss... I salute you, and do my best to honor your legacies at every opportunity.
----------------
Abstract craziness, I know. If you can keep pace with my manic hoof beats and somehow understand what the fuck I'm talking about...well then that makes one of us. I'm always happy to have you sick bastards aboard the crazy train.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Going corporate: It's the End of the World...as we know it.
And the newest member of the capitalistic corporatocracy....Duke Hunter! Come on down!
And just like that, I'm thrust forward into the serious world of stiffs and swine. Does the company I work for profit from the military industrial complex? I plead the fifth, senator. I've put off selling out for as long as I could. And now, it is time to swallow my pride, and put my idealistic naivete's in my back pocket...behind my wallet.
And just like that, I'm thrust forward into the serious world of stiffs and swine. Does the company I work for profit from the military industrial complex? I plead the fifth, senator. I've put off selling out for as long as I could. And now, it is time to swallow my pride, and put my idealistic naivete's in my back pocket...behind my wallet.
As a strong proponent (understatement) of substance abuse, I'm probably the last person anyone would expect to be going corporate. On the one hand, I have to appear to be the straightest of edge in this new environment. On the other, I'll finally have the funds to fuel my drug crazed one-man carnival of treachery and mischief. A single existence and boring routine life has never appealed to me, nor has the constant monotony of everyday reality. Mix it up, I say. Why not unwind your mind and see what's inside?
To live my days as a purchaser, making business decisions and following stringent policies and regulations....and then spend my nights as a tornado of creative devilishness has a particular bent appeal to me. By feeding the degenerate monkey that rides my back, I can fuel the fire that allows me to attempt (by any means necessary) to entertain the few sick souls who find my twisted wits stimulating.
I may/may not be building up to some kind of crazed life lived somewhere just north of insane, but well south of genius. Whatever sacrifices I've made of my body's well-being have typically been paid back through new eye-opening realizations. Drugs make you feel as deep as the ocean. Sometimes the reality is that you're about as shallow as a kid's wading pool, but what better way to find out than diving head first straight from the high-dive? Right. High risk equals high reward. As Raoul Duke used to say, "buy the ticket, take the ride."
Madness. And everyday I'll start anew, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, giving the company my best in the hopes of upward mobility and corporate achievement. A shiny new plaque with my name engraved in gold, or: a new smooth surface to rack some rails before careening off into the warm Los Angeles evening...in search of new stories in the City of Night.
Sell-out? Maybe. Freak-out? Definitely. I have just begun to rebel against straight edged evangelists looking to cleanse the world of personality and uniqueness. An upstanding professional harmlessly endangering the whole of society...possibly bringing it to its knees with his army of dope fiends, loonies, and generally indecent, peace-loving, open minded people. Oh the horror.
I seek out those like me. If they knew how many of us there are, it would shake the very foundation of the square world...
Allow me to introduce myself... I'm a man of wealth and taste...
Well... minus the wealth. Allow me to give the background for the handle I've given this internet publication ("blog" sounds like I'm a high school girl writing about the latest cafeteria gossip). Basically, Erwin and I were talking about the curses of writing, and I think the biggest is that people in general seem disinterested with reading these days. So, I got the idea for a book that would really grab the interest of the everyday low-attention span American male. It would be called Tits 'N Wits: Pics and Schticks to Keep You Entertained; and the cover would be filled with pictures of...titties. Big tits, little tits, Asian tits, Black tits...even a few pairs with the braille nipples, the Stevie Wonders.
And so ideally, Joe Plumber would go walking through Borders bookstore, on his way to the food court across the mall, and from the corner of his eye he'd see this book and stop. "Boobies, boobies, boobies!" he'd scream, and run over to pick up this hardcover gem of...entertainment. Inside would be tid bits of hilarity, generally good manvice (advice for men, or perhaps vices that men like?), anecdotes, and of course...breasteses. Would it be critically acclaimed and compared to the likes of Faulkner and Hemmingway? Of course not. But the fucker would sell, and by making me rich...it would help the economy. So lets all do our part, look for it in stores Spring of 2011...its a while out, but I have a lot of pictures to take between now and then.
And so ideally, Joe Plumber would go walking through Borders bookstore, on his way to the food court across the mall, and from the corner of his eye he'd see this book and stop. "Boobies, boobies, boobies!" he'd scream, and run over to pick up this hardcover gem of...entertainment. Inside would be tid bits of hilarity, generally good manvice (advice for men, or perhaps vices that men like?), anecdotes, and of course...breasteses. Would it be critically acclaimed and compared to the likes of Faulkner and Hemmingway? Of course not. But the fucker would sell, and by making me rich...it would help the economy. So lets all do our part, look for it in stores Spring of 2011...its a while out, but I have a lot of pictures to take between now and then.
Testing Testing...
Look at this beautiful head of hair...
Let us take this bloggie for a joggy. Assume I use words metaphysically.... metaphorically... analytically... allegorically...categorically? Come on, that was pretty good. They call this pontificating, although to be such I'd have to be speaking out loud....which would be pretty sweet, seeing as I love the sound of my own voice.
I find my best writing tends to revolve around opinionated editorials regarding the topical issues that have enraged my prostate currently. I'm not sure how deep I can go into my current irritance, since this blog is easily accessible to the authorities as well as any employer or average Joe Plumber who comes across it. Once I know I'm secure, then I can wail away on the real grimey shit that keeps me awake at night.
In the meantime, welcome to my blog-ojevich, where congressional seats are on special 2 for 10 million, 4 for 18.5. Honestly, I'm a little disappointed that he got impeached so quickly. I was hoping the circus would keep running for a couple more weeks. But, I guess in a closed society of theives, the only real crime is getting caught. We all know Illinois politics is more corrupt than a mob-runned bingo game in East Jersey. The truely guilty have to distance themselves from the heat before they get touched. So they impeached him 59-0. Was he THAT guilty? Probably not. All he really said was "Hey I got this fuckin thing and I'm not gonna give it away for fuckin nothing." That's what their wire-tap recorded him saying. Good ol Governor F-bomb looking for a little back scratching for the lottery ticket he's about to disperse. If it wasn't illegal, it would have been a good idea...but I guess you could say that about most of the decisions I've made in my life too. And so I digress from my high-horse.
I'd say decent, to quite decent for a test run. Time for sleep, get back at you greezy fucks in the morning.
To Be Continued....Immediately
For further clarrification of item #13 from my previous note: judges ruling states that it is, in fact, a penis joke. It may not have started as such, but the final product speaks for itself.... Schlong.
All rules and regulations set forth, by me, in my last note still apply to this one. Without further delay, items 16-25, as requested by my writing partner- Erwin De Vera.
16. The Five B's of Yusef: Blatant, blunt, brash, berating, bullshiteer (rhymes with rocketeer). Alliteration aside I think I'll take my chances in the tournament...
17. I didn't like beer until I was like 22 years old. Now...I fuckin shower in that shit.
18. I'm currently reading Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas for the 6th time. I read it out loud in my best Hunter S. Thompson voice when I poop. " You may not know where the edge is, but the most interesting people live life as close to it as possible," I learned that from Thompson, but the quote is all me.
19. The world is my classroom. Sometimes I teach, but I always learn.
20. I used to have a roommate who talked to himself a lot. Now that I don't live with him anymore...I talk to myself a lot. What gives with that? I describe it as a movie going on in my head, and my mouth acts as the theatre sound system. The picture quality is fantastic.
21. I can get a good look at a t-bone by sticking my head up a bull's ass, but I'd rather take the butcher's word for it.
22. I have been so high that I couldn't tell if words were escaping my lips, or if they were simply echoing in my own mind.
23. Do I write the way I talk? Or talk the way I write? I don't know, but I certainly think the way I scuba dive. (refer to item 8)
24. I honestly think I'm going to have to take a pivotal role in the decriminialization of marijuana.
25. Don't follow me. Stay at my side. It's more fun that way. The future is in your hand, play with your own squishy.
All rules and regulations set forth, by me, in my last note still apply to this one. Without further delay, items 16-25, as requested by my writing partner- Erwin De Vera.
16. The Five B's of Yusef: Blatant, blunt, brash, berating, bullshiteer (rhymes with rocketeer). Alliteration aside I think I'll take my chances in the tournament...
17. I didn't like beer until I was like 22 years old. Now...I fuckin shower in that shit.
18. I'm currently reading Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas for the 6th time. I read it out loud in my best Hunter S. Thompson voice when I poop. " You may not know where the edge is, but the most interesting people live life as close to it as possible," I learned that from Thompson, but the quote is all me.
19. The world is my classroom. Sometimes I teach, but I always learn.
20. I used to have a roommate who talked to himself a lot. Now that I don't live with him anymore...I talk to myself a lot. What gives with that? I describe it as a movie going on in my head, and my mouth acts as the theatre sound system. The picture quality is fantastic.
21. I can get a good look at a t-bone by sticking my head up a bull's ass, but I'd rather take the butcher's word for it.
22. I have been so high that I couldn't tell if words were escaping my lips, or if they were simply echoing in my own mind.
23. Do I write the way I talk? Or talk the way I write? I don't know, but I certainly think the way I scuba dive. (refer to item 8)
24. I honestly think I'm going to have to take a pivotal role in the decriminialization of marijuana.
25. Don't follow me. Stay at my side. It's more fun that way. The future is in your hand, play with your own squishy.
Come on... EVERYBODY'S doing it....
Yeah yeah yeah, everyone's done it, bandwagon blah blah. I made fun of Erwin for doing this shit. So now, in my quiet state of boredom, I bequeath to you all this list of bullshit that you may/may not know about me and which I promise may/may not be true about me. It's not so much a list as it is a chronicling of my rise...TO POWER!
Rules:Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you.(To do this, go to the "notes" under tabs on your profile page, paste these instructions in the body of the note, type your 25 random things, tag 25 people (in the right hand corner of the app) then click publish.
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1. I can have full conversations in movie/music/pop culture quotes... that is if you can keep up.
2. According to Charles Alexander Stollar, my shit does not stink. You are welcome to confirm this with him.
3. I generally give great advice, but I've yet to take any of it.
4. Beneath my rough, manish exterior... there is a rough, manish interior. And beneath that, there is jello pudding. Strong men also cry.
5. When I was in 6th grade, I wrote a 2 page paper 20 minutes before it was due. Mr. Frank's English class...it was a story about dinosaurs. I got an A. True story.
6. I only lie to keep people from getting upset. Stories don't count as lies, as they are told for entertainment (either yours, or mine....usually mine).
7. 99% of the comments I make are funny to me. If other people laugh, it's a bonus, if not, its your loss for not getting the joke.
8. Drugs make you feel as deep as the ocean.
9. I like to play devil's advocate, so don't agree with me too often. I'll argue with you anyway.
10. I try to keep others' expectations of me low, while keeping my own expectations high.
11. I'm voiceless until I'm heard. But, I can't be heard until I have something to say.
12. Expressioniste. If it's not a word, I'm making it one. Defined as one who takes particular pleasure in articulating...thought, emotion, imagery, etc. Art must be qualified. Expression is not debatable. I am an Expressioniste.
13. The depth of my ocean is measured by the plunge of my anchor. Interpret that as you wish. Questions may/may not be answered after class.
14. We are all hypocrites to a degree. We're contradictory by nature, and we're certainly guilty of some of the things for which we judge others. In other words: get off your fucking high horse.
15. I like to be different. Not for the sake of being different, but just to keep you people on your toes. So...this is all the wisdom and information you get. Go try to make a dollar out of 15 items.
Rules:Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you.(To do this, go to the "notes" under tabs on your profile page, paste these instructions in the body of the note, type your 25 random things, tag 25 people (in the right hand corner of the app) then click publish.
--------------------
1. I can have full conversations in movie/music/pop culture quotes... that is if you can keep up.
2. According to Charles Alexander Stollar, my shit does not stink. You are welcome to confirm this with him.
3. I generally give great advice, but I've yet to take any of it.
4. Beneath my rough, manish exterior... there is a rough, manish interior. And beneath that, there is jello pudding. Strong men also cry.
5. When I was in 6th grade, I wrote a 2 page paper 20 minutes before it was due. Mr. Frank's English class...it was a story about dinosaurs. I got an A. True story.
6. I only lie to keep people from getting upset. Stories don't count as lies, as they are told for entertainment (either yours, or mine....usually mine).
7. 99% of the comments I make are funny to me. If other people laugh, it's a bonus, if not, its your loss for not getting the joke.
8. Drugs make you feel as deep as the ocean.
9. I like to play devil's advocate, so don't agree with me too often. I'll argue with you anyway.
10. I try to keep others' expectations of me low, while keeping my own expectations high.
11. I'm voiceless until I'm heard. But, I can't be heard until I have something to say.
12. Expressioniste. If it's not a word, I'm making it one. Defined as one who takes particular pleasure in articulating...thought, emotion, imagery, etc. Art must be qualified. Expression is not debatable. I am an Expressioniste.
13. The depth of my ocean is measured by the plunge of my anchor. Interpret that as you wish. Questions may/may not be answered after class.
14. We are all hypocrites to a degree. We're contradictory by nature, and we're certainly guilty of some of the things for which we judge others. In other words: get off your fucking high horse.
15. I like to be different. Not for the sake of being different, but just to keep you people on your toes. So...this is all the wisdom and information you get. Go try to make a dollar out of 15 items.
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