The Beam

R Kelly & Broken Social Scene

2009-09-24T20:40:00.001-07:00

"I'll Do That"

2009-09-22T22:14:00.001-07:00

"And I think we're dead".

2009-09-22T16:52:00.000-07:00

Required Reading

2009-09-20T22:16:00.001-07:00

Me Eating Spaghetti

2009-09-13T22:15:00.000-07:00

The Writer by Carson Mell

2009-09-06T13:47:00.000-07:00

The Writer from Carson Mell on Vimeo.

Chonto by Carson Mell

2009-09-04T15:25:00.001-07:00

Charlie the Unicorn

2009-09-03T22:18:00.001-07:00

Books Best Judged By Covers

2009-09-01T09:11:00.000-07:00

"The Main Character is a Hero That Your Friends and Relatives Would Disagree Resembles You in Any Sane Fashion"

"Even Though These Two Are Totally In Love One of Them is Going to Die Prematurely and It's Going To Feel Terrible"

"Everything IS Bigger In Texas! But, That's Only Part of the Reason Why You Feel So Small Driving Through With All of Your Possessions Loaded into What is Now a Convertible Due Mainly to Rust"

“Good From Far is Far From Good: How to Tell If You’re Better Looking From a Distance or in the Dark”

"I Couldn't Eat the Cake at this Afternoon's Office Party Because That's Exactly What I Had Just Eaten For Lunch, and Various Other Ways to Determine If You Should Be Shopping For Bigger Pants This Weekend While Not Exercising and Sweating Profusely"

"Two Lovers Fall in Love; And While In It (Love), The Lovers Realize That It (Love) Isn’t All-It’s-Cracked-Up-To-Be; But With Hilarious Situational Consequences That Are, At Their Core, Tragic, And So Therefore Amusing On A Hey-I-Totally-Know-How-That-Goes Sort of Way"

“When Hannibal Met Clarice: A Literary Pastiche, Not to Be Confused With A Mad Cap Romp, in Which the Heroine Gives the Hero a Ride to New York City After they Both Graduate From a Nondescript Mid-Western American University; and Then Spend A Series of Moments Looking For Love, and Failing to Find it, and Subsequently Bumping Into Each Other Time and Time Again Whereas Finally a Close Friendship Blooms and They Both Like Having a Friend of the Opposite Sex But Must Confront the Question As to Whether A Cannibal and An Idiot Can Be Friends Without the Previous Eating the Latter’s Face and Living In the Sociopathic Comfort Bubble of Her Once Fleshy Husk”

*Stay tuned for the big screen adaptation starring Billy Crystal or Anthony Hopkins and Meg Ryan or Jodie Foster debuting in a theatres a long time ago.

"Your Facebook Read Your Diary, and Various Other Opposite-Of-Ideal, Fancy-Meeting-You-Here's That Prove You're Two Faced and Unacceptable"

“Why Buy The Milk When You’re Married to a Cow?: The Dairy Farming, Matrimony and Bestiality Paradox Plaguing Towns and Cities Well Geographically North of Anything Resembling a Mexican Stage Show and Decidedly West of The Mississippi"

"It’s a Story About Wedded-Non-Blissful-Obese-But-Charmingly-Folksy-People of the Down-Home-Country-Variety That I Wrote Over the Course of a Weekend in a Thinly Veiled Attempt at Pulling at Mass Reader Heartstrings (a.k.a Wallets) that Eventually Arouses the Interest of Oprah [Winfrey]; Whereas I Subsequently Retire to "My Own Private Idaho", so to speak, Where'st I Never Write Another Word and Instead Diddle High Priced Call Girls and Devote My Remaining Years to the Knowingly Futile Pursuit of Some Sort of Alchemical- Shape-Shiftin'-Necromancical-Fortune-Seein' Hobby Hybrid That I Display Weekly at Craft Fairs Throughout My Immediate Sub-Metropolitan Local"

Why I Believe In Unicorns: Live

2009-07-17T21:53:00.000-07:00

7 of (undetermined)

2009-07-08T19:08:00.000-07:00

And once again he finds himself, everything but anything.

6 of (undetermined)

2009-07-03T08:33:00.001-07:00

He prayed for a truth that tasted like candy and sat shiny-red and huggable-warm atop a straight-to-my-thighs-but-i'm-worth-it hot fudge sundae; instead of like an angry fungal bloat loitering just outside his stomach, with a dip in, taking its sweet time choosing the direction in which to once and for all expose its bust-all-hope grin.

5 of (undetermined)

2009-07-03T08:31:00.000-07:00

3 Lemons
2 Socks
1 Condom
...all slightly used.

4 of (undetermined)

2009-06-30T21:19:00.001-07:00

Orange you glad I didn't say banana?
...
Well orange you?!?!

3 of (undetermined)

2009-06-29T20:46:00.001-07:00

Lacking the funds for a vacation from his town he simply elevated his resting perspective by 20 degrees. And all of a sudden an entirely new life began passing by.

2 of (undetermined)

2009-06-29T07:26:00.001-07:00

They're was man who rode the bus that looked exactly like him. And he felt like they both knew it. And it was weird.

1 OF (UNDETERMINED)

2009-06-28T20:47:00.000-07:00

They'd remained on his face. Since birth. Nothing he could do. Everything that could save and be saved, kill or be killed, contained in the deformation. If only he'd use them to see.

2009-06-17T07:08:00.000-07:00

Correspondence Stock: An American Civil War Veteran Subsequently Pursues a Career as a Bookkeeper with an Unspecified and Undistinguished Professional Firm Not Unlike Your Own, Four Score and Roughly One Hundred Years After the Official Cease Fire

Thurston McKnaffernock, a once private in Johnston’s army, in an email to Account Representative and on-again-off-again romantic interest Shermanthala Jenkins of a Remote Corporate Satellite Office in or near Savannah, GA., dated July 4th, 2005, says:

-----Original Message-----
From: McKnaffernock, Thurston
Sent: Thursday, July 04, 2005 2:14 PM
To: Jenkins, Shermanthala
Subject: RE: Love and Expenses Well Beyond the Time of Cholera, and such.

Dearest Shermanthala,

It has been what seems a grueling eternity since last we sipped Juleps on Momma’s back porch[1]. I remember fondly our rousing talks of tax code and Federal Audit Regulation reporting requirements, known intimately to us as simply F.A.R. I couldn’t help but muse openly and aloud as to how you’d oft failed so adorably to furnish me with the receipts pertaining to your various adventures - meals, incidentals and the like! Oh the times we once had.

I must admit that I revisit these occasions quite regularly, most often in fits of loneliness, nostalgia or Month-End-Closing[2]. I cling savagely to these memories and, admittedly, often blush as my mind floods with the flawless images of your effortless movements from break-room to break-room as you gloss-over and postpone; and, not to mention, how you always seem to omit the most important portions of the expenses themselves[3]. Oh lover, is this intentional?

Lo my heart beats rapid still upon the dawn of your memory – that of which resonates as vibrantly today as it did on the day of witness. Though I’ve tried, with the help of workaholistic habituation and mild stimulants, I could never repress the memory of your face scrunching tightly, birthing with laughter at my humble request that you actually provide the Accounting department with the documents so outlined in the company policy manual, and so as to simply remain in compliance with the bare minimum of Internal Revenue Service guidelines regarding the laborious but necessary audit trail[4].

Do you remember, my love? Do you? About the audit trail, about my responsibilities if I’m to remain in the employ of this Unspecified and Undistinguished Professional Firm Not Unlike Your Own?

You forgot didn’t you? Dammit, how do you always forget!?

Oh. I see.

Alas, I must admit then that I continue on with regrettably sheepened alacrity, as in doing so I can’t help but revisit my naivety. I’ve only recently been made to understand that you were not-subjected-to-this-sort-of-inquisitionary-subjugation at your last company, I can see that now, clear as the sun rises and sets each day, but forgive me you must, because at the time I requested such information, how was I supposed to know that you had been previously employed in what could’ve only been a distant solar system, or perhaps, at the very least, a distant planet[5].

I beg your thousand pardons! This latest development as to the celestial nature of your previous employ was not something I could’ve ascertained from merely setting next to you, undulating back and forth, hugged twice round by the hand made mahogany rocking chairs as we melted blush-red into One Colleague. How was I to know that underneath the warmth of the moistened Savannah sunset, enveloped into one envelop – two team members becoming one – that the dusk being set aglow was one of mutual frustration as to role responsibility? You with your Marketing background, flighty, free, careless, borderline brain-dead and entirely lacking any sort of capacity for professional empathy, and me, with a rigid set of openly defined and clearly documented requirements for operating a licensed corporation in the State of California, spelled out and enforced by not only the iron fist of the local and state Governments but alas, also under the obliterating and unstoppable tide of Federal Agents and Political Might!

Which of us could’ve been wrong when all felt so immediately right? How could everything seem so clear when the darkness was so closely upon us?! Alas, neither of use were wrong my love and, as it turns out, like most things, it seems it was more of an HR issue.

Anywho, I truly hope this letter finds you well and serves as a reminder to please save your receipts while attending the convention in Las Vegas this weekend. I look forward to working closely with you upon your return and, as always, catching up over a smoothly sugared bourbon while witnessing the passage of time – together – if not on Momma’s porch, then surely from across the aisle of cubicles that separate us, if in proximity alone.

Efficiently, Effectively and Lovingly Yours,
Thurston McKnafferknock III
Bookkeeper
Ext. 1214

________________________________

[1] Popular meat-market-cougar-style bar frequented during Happy Hour by the work-a-day contingent.

[2] Not to mention quarterly review and year end audits; both Job Cost specific and Company Wide!

[3] e.g. fully itemized restaurant receipts, not just the signed credit card copy. Alas, the alcoholic beverages, among various other items, though often times a necessary part of entertaining clients in a professional environment, need to be dutifully separated from regular food and beverage so as to report an accurate and unbiased overhead calculation; and how could I discern what-was-what without the detail laden full bodied receipt? So coy, so cunning!

[4] e.g. IRS Publication 1521, Rules regarding Per Diem: Lodging, Meals and Incidentals for the Purposes of Business Travel.

[5] As in not Earth.

Hindsightable Retrospective Regarding Optometric-20/20'ish Idiomatic Aphoraxioms

2009-06-11T08:09:00.000-07:00

On Going Bald Before Getting Rich:

Had I been more than merely suspect that women were loitering-just-south-of-the-truth when asserting that a sense of humor was the most important factor in choosing a mate, clearly I would have kept my skull mustachio until I had procured substantial enough fiscal-responsibility so as to enable the woman in question enough time to head-over-heels me re funny bone. As it stands now, I'm bald and poor and dying alone.

On the Decision to Go-Pro After My Sophomore Year of Post High-School Academia:

Had I known that the vast majority of the shuffle-up-and-deal-with-your-mediocrity professional world placed very little emphasis on the baboon-like-physique and hyper-elevated-talent-for-sportsmanship-and-athletics combo (re club roller hockey team net replacement specialist), and would all-but-escort-me-off-the-premises immediately following consideration of employtation without a completed Bachelor's Degree, clearly I would have decided against See-You-Later-Stink-Towning my alma mater subsequent to completion of my sophomore year and surgically prior to junior level course selection. As it stands now, I'm out-of-the-money and lacking-the-food and dying alone.

On Being Better Looking From a Distance, Rather Than In the Dark:

Had I known that choosing good-looking-from-a-distance still meant that I was very far away from the woman who would reject me (as in toto eclipse of the heart), clearly I would have chosen to be better-looking-in-the-dark, so that at least I was closer to getting at the sex (as in proximity). As it stands now, I am chafing, paying my electric bill and dying alone.

On Losing Money in the Stock Market v. Making It:

(kind-of-well-sort-of self explanatory, re more-money-good-less-money-not-so-good, and so on and so forth)

On Attempting the Let's-Hang-Out-Some-Time of a Pretty Girl With My Fly Open:

Had I been with-it-in-the-knowing enough to ascertain that the swarthily-exotic young woman commuting, in the seat immediately below where I stood on the bus, was directly eye level with my down-zippered-Gap-Spring khaki's, clearly I would have decided not only to Examine-My-Zipper-Pretty-Darn-Quick, but also to refrain from commenting that "seeing as how tomorrow is New Year's Eve, perhaps we could get together and watch the ball(s) drop". As it stands now, I'm no longer feeling a draft, totally in agreement as to her requisite laughing-in-my-general-direction-while-best-strained-efforts-otherwise, and dying alone.

On Remaining Somehow Alert and Optimistic v. Giving Up and Dying Alone

Is any of this going to matter in 20 years?

Ahahahahahahahahahaha

2009-05-21T17:09:00.000-07:00

'A Man Walks Into the Doctor's Office' Jokes for the Rather Upwardly Mobile and Massively Self Aware

2009-05-08T06:50:00.000-07:00

Doctor: Did Martha verify your insurance?

Patient: Neck pain, back pain, shoulder pain, tightness and/or stiffness, pain, the sweats, waking up in a sweat, profusely sweating, sweating at night, sweating during the day, sweating while immobile, no energy (as in zero), feeling lethargic, tired, numbness, numbness, tingling, numbness, repetitive numbness and/or tingling, other sensations, no sensation, I have hands, I have feet, a face, a head, I have other places on my body, persistent muscle tension, random muscle tension, relaxed muscles, general stiffness, acute stiffness, stiff stiffness, pounding heart, racing heart, walking heart, resting heart, heart feels like it's beating too hard and/or not hard enough and/or just hard enough, pulsing and/or throbbing muscles, weak muscles, beach muscles, shellfish, I have a cage around my ribs and it’s tight, pressurized and/or feeling like a tight band around my ribs, rib cage makes lungs claustrophobic, angers pancreas based on rigid unquestioning belief in duty to protect, sexual dysfunction, sexual uninterest, sexual function, lack of reciprocal sexual interest, sexual interest without appropriate funding, shooting pains, stabbing pains, pains from stabbing, pains from being stabbed, odd pressures in the neck, head, face, and/or professional environment, shooting pains in face, shooting pains in scalp and/or head, scalping pains in head of white man, painful pains, shooting pains from shooting guns, movies, shooting the truth, skipped heart beats, sore and/or tight scalp and/or back of neck, easily startled, difficulty getting started, impossible to finish what I've started, starting and not finishing, starting and finishing too early (too late), finishing without remembering ever having really gotten started (as in blacked out drunk (as in time traveling (as in this is really anonymous right?))), difficulty settling down, professionally, romantically, physically, did I mention sweating? uncontrollable profuse sweating, repulsive amounts of sweating, sweating that affects the color of my mattress in a negative fashion, I stand and sweat and the floor feels like it is moving either up or down and/or for no apparent reason (as in "the earth moves under my feet" (as in "i feel the sky tumbling down" (as in "i feel my heart start to trembling")))...

Doctor (into wall intercom call box): So, the insurance has been verified. Very good. That'll be all Martha.

Patient (cont.): ...throat and/or mouth clicking and/or grating sound when I move my mouth and/or jaw, such as when talking and/or trembling and/or shaking, twitching, unsteadiness, dizziness, feeling dizzy and/or lightheaded and/or hard headed and/or boneheaded and/or headed in the wrong direction (as in the wrong path (as in life (as in all the wrong decisions))), urgency to urinate, frequent urination, massive urination, sudden urge to go to the bathroom (as in the washroom (as in like clockwork (as in the water flows backwards in australia))), warm spells (re: sweating), cold spells (re: sweating), weakness, feeling weak, weakness, low energy, light energy, soft lighting (as in Barbara Walters), feeling like I may faint, like I'm fainting, like I fainted (as in did that muthafucka just faint?), weak legs, weak arms, and/or weak muscles, weak paycheck, weak skill set, weakness in multiple professional and/or social areas at once, weight loss, weight gain, feel fat, look fat, feel like throwing up after meals and/or skipping meals, worrying compulsively about having a heart attack, not having a heart, being a heartless prick (as in I never want to see you again), having heart failure, failing to find a new heart in time, breaking hearts, having heart broken, failure, failure, chronic failure of the heart and/or the mind and/or the reaching of goals, having a serious undetected illness, detecting a serious illness, not being able to pronounce serious illnesses, dying prematurely, finding the right time to die, dying too early and not having the fast, reliable and safe option of being cryogenically frozen, fear of being cryogenically frozen, going insane, having gone insane, realizing I'm insane, being found out as a fraud, being a fraud, realizing I am just like everyone else, suddenly snapping, losing it (as in gone fishing (as in batshit (as in re: rat in tin shit house))), uncontrollably harming myself and/or someone I love and/or hate, continuing to take orders from my loser out of work dog, losing control of my thoughts and/or actions, choking and/or suffocating and/or being alone and/or having no one to choke and/or having no one to choke me (as in drowning (as in auto-erotic asphyxiation (as in CSI Detectives note marks consistent with strangulation, here, and then again over here))), fear of talking too much, too little, too often, not at all (as in I'll shut up now (as in can it (as in piping right the fizzuck down))).

Doctor: You may be suffering from hypochondria.

Patient: If it's all the same to you doc, I think I will get a fifth opinion.

The Financial Collapse-ible Travel Mug!

2009-04-30T13:18:00.001-07:00

While the majority of Americans hunch slumped over and paralyzed in the darkened corners of our foreclosed upon homes, sweating, crying and defecating on ourselves as we feebly try to out muscle the trifecta of seasonal, emotional and financial depression, the marketing gurus have thrown out all the stops in an effort to get us, the rabid consumers, rabidly consuming again. Here are just a few of the reasons we should all just get over it already:

Motel 6:
- 10% Discount per weekly room rate to be used towards tuition at a local trade school
- Foot long hot dog and 24oz Budweiser tall boy with booking of a single night stay
- Awkward suggestion to the effect that "maybe if you'd worked a little harder...", at no extra charge!

**2010: Gideons Bible replaced by Fodor's Guide to Last Requests**

McDonald's:
-Order often, Learn Spanish!
-Free nap in booth with Big Mac purchase
-Monopoly Instant Win Game to include new prize options for medical treatment

Alcoholics Anonymous:
-Chips can now be exchanged for meth amphetamines
-Mandatory Happy Hour directly following meetings
-Name reduced to simply, "Alcoholics"

GM:
-Free car building workshop for adults!
-Bring a Toyota/Honda employee to work day/year
-Decorate boarded up plant windows for the Holidays, bring the kids!

Home Depot:
-Free Clinics: The Weekend Arsonist Series
-We Buy Copper, no questions asked
-Buy a 'Do it Yourself Thunderdome Kit' and get a handful of ammunition free!

Corner Liquors:
-Single shot Derringer and half gallon jug of Wild Turkey collector packs
-Loitering Now Ok!
-No Shirt, No Shoes, No one Does

Netflix:
-"Mad Max" Series relocated from Action/Adventure to Documentary
-$4.99/mo option for all you can attend community theatre
- Each DVD arrives with a snarkily worded tip on how to turn the contents into a survival weapon

State Unemployment Commission:
-Rejection letter complete with an updated Map of the Stars Homes, 50’s style Coca Cola bottle, 1 cup gasoline, oil soaked dish rag and light anywhere water-proof match
-A fist full of currency denoting U.S. presidents that can be used towards goods and services. Limited time only.
-Free commemorative collapsible travel mug honoring the "The Greatest Depression Ever!" with Military service application

I Get Drunk @ Hotel Bars

2009-04-29T22:37:00.001-07:00

So I did what anybody would’ve done, I told her I was going to a friend’s house to watch the Oscars; and I went to the Holiday Inn and got drunk.

I liked getting drunk at hotels. No one ever looked at me like I had a problem. They probably thought I was on vacation. People drinking alone at hotels are letting off steam, they somehow earned that drink through fifty some odd weeks of fifty some odd jobs. People drinking alone at bars maybe needed to work on what made them drink alone at bars, maybe they needed help. At least that’s what the looks seem to think. And though I maybe needed help, all too often those who looked in to assist could never understand. So, I went to hotels and drank.

A couple years ago I’d gotten drunk alone at a bar; then I met someone. I talked some shit about being a free spirit and ended up taking one home. We didn’t even fuck on account of me being so drunk, but, she didn’t seem to mind. Nor has she left since. I’ve tried everything but she just kind of says no and stays put. On day one, once the afternoon had rolled around and she showed no signs of packing up, I told her I had to go to the gym. She was fine with that, even supportive, but she didn’t leave when I did. Two years later I’m in the best shape of my life. She might be crazy, but I’m not a complete liar and so now when I’m not getting drunk at hotels, or working for money, I’m at the gym.

When the gym thing didn’t work I started drinking more heavily. I bought some weed even though I hadn’t gotten high since high school, I figured she’d hate the idea. She hasn’t batted an eyelash. She tells me I’ll stop when I’m ready and doesn’t really see the problem with it. Hell, she says, you still get up everyday for work and haven’t missed a day at the gym since I’ve been living here. Funny, she mentions my work, but I’m not all together sure she has any idea what I do; and I’m positive she doesn’t know that I go more regularly now on account of passionately needing to avoid her. It doesn’t appear to concern her either. She even has healthy dinners ready for me when I get home every day. I need my energy for the gym she says.

I told her I was having an affair with a trainer and she became real quiet. I figured I’d finally struck out. But, when she did finally speak it was merely to assure me that boys will be boys and she was glad that I had been so honest with her. When I told her that I had no intention of putting the brakes on my illicit tryst she seemed fine with that too, just so long as I kept my lover out of our home. She’d finally given me a way out! I thought. I simply had to bring home my imaginary lover and be caught in the act.

I’d loved a girl once who always found a reason to leave and now I loathed a woman with no shortage of conviction to stay. I had tried all of the non-violent approaches and was ineffective to the point of having to avoid my own apartment through booze, exercise and gainful employment. Often times I wanted to drag her out into the street by her hair, light her on fire and punt her into traffic. But that has never been my style. I seem to be able to live with a problem for as long as the problem felt like sticking around. I couldn’t hurt people on purpose. I just wasn’t that way. I had to somehow inadvertently hurt her through actions true to my nature. I would feel terrible should I lay hands on her but feel nothing should I neglect her so long that she chose the door of her own volition. Or, I could just change the locks should she ever leave her post. Until then I guess I’d just jog and drink.

I always seemed to go drinking but I usually went to the Holiday Inn for a number of reasons. It was a chain so, right of the jump, I knew the bathrooms would be clean. Also, there was free popcorn, which was on my list of gym friendly foods. On top of that no one ever used the pool tables, which was nice because I couldn’t stand the sound of the balls crashing together. Always kind of sounded like bones snapping at the knee caps. But, best of all, there were boxing themed photographs by the table where I always sat.

I was never really a fan of boxing but for some reason seeing a half naked man lying unconscious in front of a room full of crazed animals resonated with me. I didn’t feel alone here. There was something about getting punched repeatedly in the face, and losing, and not being able to get back up that made me feel accepted. Any asshole could take a punch and rise to fight another round. Any run of the mill idealist could passively resist power and be righteously brutalized by a tank in the process. But, it takes a real man to choose adversity, train, try your god damned guts out, believe, enter the ring and be beaten senseless in a contest where you’re at our best; failure inspired me, situations where there were no excuses or scapegoats – you signed up on your own, did your best and as a direct result lay brainless in front of an angry world.

Though I was at home at the Holiday Inn Bar and Lounge I wasn’t yet the dead man I admired. I was hiding in the corner of a bar with my back to the wall, scared to go home to the only woman who could ever truly love and accept me. I couldn’t. I had no feelings for her and that could never change. I never learned to love, only how to drink and rationalize the fuck; and then I’d start over in the morning. All I knew was that I’d drink until my dick told me to go home and eat.

I could rely only on impulse. Thoughts all led to a guilt that I couldn’t stand. My brain often told me to shove a rifle in her fucking face and threaten her out of my life. My brain told me she fucking deserved that kind of treatment for taking over my apartment and my existence. But, my impulse told me to go to a hotel bar and get drunk, and I did, and then I’d go home and my impulse would tell me to fuck, and she’d get the wrong idea; and she did.

When I was sober, just laying brain on this parasite was enough to make me short of breath. I couldn’t figure out why she came home with me that night nor why she had stayed around this long. It couldn’t logically have anything to do with me. I’d picked her up acting like someone else and now I was acting like someone else to get her to leave. I would’ve been myself but I’d played so many different roles over the years – professional, brother, son, friend, cousin, acquaintance, lover, ex – that I hardly knew who I was when I wasn’t pretending to be someone I wasn’t. Tonight would be different. I would be myself. I would show her the battered punch drunk old bum she should have abandoned long before she went home with me. I would explain that she’d get over me in time and that it was for the best. I would lay down the law and end it for good, and get on with a life I put on hold years ago. I would do all of these things but not yet. It was still raining outside and I didn’t want to walk home in it. I would have a couple more beers and wait for it to stop. Then I would rise from the mat, clear the blood and pus from my face and announce to the world that I would never box again.

When I got home that night her light was on but she was gone; and I didn’t really know how to feel about it.

Strange Men Don't Approach Strange Women

2009-04-29T22:32:00.001-07:00

How was I supposed to know all that was going on behind that pretty face? From where’s I could tell she done got it all. I could see two beers settin in front of her. I could see a half eaten burrito. Both I could see clear from across the street and through that lit up old taqueria window. There she sat, pretty face, pretty much perfect.

“She don’t get with fat guys” I said.

“But I’m a funny one” I replied.

“Yeah, funny” I said, “the funny ones get the good looking ones laid, puts’em ladies in the right frame for fuckin”.

“You’re right” I replied, “she don’t even humor funny guys no more, too many probly fell from funny guys to lover guys, wouldn’t leave her lone”.

From where I sat on the bench I could smoke and I could watch. Wadn’t tryin to scare her nothing, just set back lookin in, wouldn’t let on that I’d wanted to talk ta’her, wouldn’t never do it neither. I exhaled some smoke and saw a little man through the window. He had a black pony tail and a black moustache, both pointed down at his white apron as his finger pointed up at the clock, seems it musta was getting late. She seemed to disagree. She pointed at her watch and pleaded with her eyes: “Just 15 more minutes”. He paused and smiled, he seemed to feel for her I guess, must’ve not hadn nothing to do tonight. That made me laugh, poor guy ain’t hadn nothin to do. He turned back the clock and she smiled a breathless relief. The kind for someone else’s acknowledgement – didn’t make no one really happy inside, just kind of postponed something.

She was probably waiting on some really smart lookin mo’fucker, maybe a doctor, sum shit like that. He’d show up late, just like one too, after you been waiting around, he’d apologize and not mean it, just used to sayin it cuz he always late – he’d talk some shit about havin to stop and save a bunch of lives, probly children or puppies. Of course she’d fuggin melt and hug him, the good kind, high around the neck, on her mo fuggin tippiest toes. Then her breath would come, the relief breath, she’d relax “just so long as you safe” she’d say.

Aww fuck it.

“She won’t make you happy” I said.

“Gotta make myself happy” I said.

“No such thing as happiness” I said, “closest thing some kind of acceptance”.

“Acceptance?” I asked.

“Acceptance of yo mo’fuggin miserableness” I laughed.

“That’s closest?” I asked.

“Closest” I said.

My phone rang. It rang again. I squinted to see if she was on her phone, maybe dropping me a line to say ‘hello, I done saws you outside and wants to ask you to share my burrito, I’m pretty and nice and observant’. She hadn’t moved and she weren’t holding no phone. I let mine ring, never answered it if I didn’t know who’s calling.

“She don’t even notice you” I said.

“I know” I said, “don’t matter anyhow, whole world is full of weak mo’fuggin people, clingin to the strong ones so’s maybe they can zap some of they juice”.

“Who needs that shit” I said.

I packed up my smokes, my phone, my shit. I was headed out. I wanted to walk by her clean face and gives her some kind of dirty look.

“Fuck her for being smug” I said.

“Yeah, fuck her” I agreed.

As I passed her window I gave her some kind of glance. She stared right through me. What did I expect? I knew she musta been stuck up, self absorbed, happy just to be pretty; too happy bein pretty to notice a mutha fucka down on his luck. She had it the easiest.

“Fuck you” I screamed.

“Fuck her” I said.

She didn’t even notice nuthin, didn’t even flinch.

The neon open sign fizzled to darkness and the little man in the apron approached the bitch.

“Can I call you cab?” he asked in his best English.

“I’ve got nowhere to go” she said.

“A cab” he inquired.

“I’m too scared to stay but I can’t leave either” she said.

“I call cab, take you home” he said, and he left her to make the call.

“Home is too far away for cabs” she said.

And she left him.

2009-02-18T22:42:00.000-08:00

"Cue the mac and...action... no wait, fuck, of course before the session starts i need to sip whatever it is that is in this jail mug; well you know what Barry I just might! and what would be wrong with singing...why don't you just worry about the tripod".

Hey ladies, who wants to fuck a musician? Slow down, I see a wedding ring, he must be married to the girl next door, or better yet, the funk; and by funk I mean that the only thing worse than this guy is his funking apartment. Nice particle board hand me down, I wish I was a 35 year old college student, hey there Stephen Peters, better call PETA cuz you're doing some serious wailing - enjoy, if you have to:

Leave Michael Phelps Alone

2009-02-01T11:11:00.000-08:00

Look, don't be a fucking hypocrite America with your Michael Phelps pot smoking morality. 98% of the entire world, at some point, has been sitting around with a bong in their lap and a pizza on the way.

Hell, I walked passed a guy on my way to work the other morning who was smoking a big fat spliff! Imagine my surprise when, instead of enslaving my women and stealing my money, he simply passed by with a quick smile.

The pot head non-incident was however a much less offensive exchange in comparison to the one when I happened across a street goer who proceeded to cough Heineken breath all over me; and right when I was about to get super fucking pissed, his friend cleared things up quickly when he slurred in my general direction that:

"awww, sorry nigga, my boy'z got bronchitis".

Oh my apologies, cough on me all you like you drunken dick tard.

My rudimentary point being, would it have been better to see old Octogold Phelpsy drinking beers and planning a date rape? Pretty sure he couldn't win all them there medals drunk, but, I'm not so sure he couldn't do it high - I've been both and let's just say a pool party is way more "outside the lanes" when I'm deerunk.

I don't know if smoking weed is right or wrong. Alls I know is that it's fun and we've all done it. So, unless we're going to publicize every time the rest of us losers puff puff mo fuggin gives - let's not pretend to be outraged that Michael Phelps is acting like a normal human being.

I Cleaned My House and Look What I Found

2009-01-22T21:55:00.001-08:00

Human knowledge has greatly out evolved human understanding. Technology, from rabid dream to physical application, has far exceeded our capacity to utilize it effectively, honestly and in a truly humane fashion. We’ve gone directly from an age of reason, enlightenment and self knowledge into a shooting gallery with buck shot splattered data masquerading as information - thought. We took a look at nature and put a shell over it, we saw the universe and we created the world. We “know” so much that we’ve lost complete sight of the need for context, for practical and pragmatic application. We’ve acknowledged the few basic truths of human nature and instead of striving to understand them, we’ve molested them dry in order to exploit every superficial application thereof. We no longer create and digest but rather produce and consume - "renovate prosperity". The price point importance of speed to market has eclipsed the need for thoughtful reflection and eliminated the sanity of deliberation in the name of production. We no longer truly innovate at the human level in order that we can compete in “the world”. We temporarily subsist on the fallacy that profit growth and free cash flow can expand towards infinity without inevitably drying up everything beneath it – if companies don’t fail, if the “righteous is the currency” capitalist model doesn’t fail, companies will expand into infinity and eventually this lesion will have maximized its profit so effectively that no entity, human or corporate, will have a penny left with which to buy its products. We’ve become a society, not of progress and hope but rather one of greed and blame; neither of which can be shared.

Name That Tune

2008-12-24T09:57:00.000-08:00

The more and more I wake up and look around I find that the government doesn't look at all like the sturdy aged father figure who doles out guidance and sustenance with equal wisom that one seems to read about in 7th grade civics class. I've never actually seen that guy. The guy I have seen is the drug addicted teenager - lying, cheating, stealing, sneaking into your wallet in the middle of the night, scaring mom and shaking down siblings in a fit of drug addled, next stop throat job desperation...and then, when caught red mo'fucking handed being all like, hey why you don't you believe this grossly exaggerated rationalization, __________________!
(insert turd here)

And what can you do about it besides nuffin? Happy New Year fuck bags.

Radio Station

2008-12-02T20:55:00.000-08:00

Spark somp'm, eat somp'm, overclock the truck with liquid nitrogen, damn! Here's some tunes:

Why do you think so?

2008-12-01T21:34:00.000-08:00

I guess that's just maybe what I feel like maybe.

Little Ole Dammit Do Nothing

2008-11-18T20:48:00.000-08:00

Dammit if it wasn't a foggy know nothing night
San Francisco winter
Fog lumbers heavy on top thoughts of girl
always does
always do

Seemed to felt cold anyway
weather don't help much
Can't seem to lie away the best of'em
not oldest ones
not newer ones most
She hangs there in memories
rolled up in smoke
eyes drifting to passing cars -

"What are you thinking about?" she asks
"You mostly" I don't reply, just laugh
"Why are you laughing?"
"Because there is never an answer to that question".
"But I really want to know"
"And I want to tell you"

Can't, never could.

She disappears just like that
just like she should
just like I want her to
Ain't much good for people
expect too much
alls I have to offer

-- "somewhere maybe someday, maybe somewhere far away" --

funny how lonely I feel sometimes
can't help but makes me smile –
not big ones
wry kinds
one corner of one side of sad little mouths,
maybe even touches hinges of eyes
twinkles a little
the way it does when you can do nothing but accept the scene,
"hmph, guess that's it" -
Nothing ever so comforting as the give up after the no try
letting it all move to the wayside
wonders gone why

Dammit if it ain't a foggy do nothing night.
Can't help but feel good to be in love with someone.
Can't help but let my face twinkle like the stars way up above the ceiling
Can't help but do nothing
Only smile.

It's a Sonnet Called: Love is Loveliest when Loved

2008-11-17T20:23:00.000-08:00

I wrote this poem yesterday about a job 3 or so years ago. I was passing time with a director and a producer the night before an interview with Warren Buffet. I was smoking a cigarette in front of a no name motel just outside of downtown Omaha, Nebraska. The poem* is called:

"Smoking a Cigarette in Front of a No Name Motel Just Outside of Downtown Omaha, Nebraska"

Leaned up against vacancy LoneInn
Floated blue grey smoke bloomin
Hot beer battered brandy breath making smoke ring faces
in the thin cold void
Blackened night heavy crystal air in lungs
bursts out over parking lots

Back in the room Dave and Jim drink cheap liquor out of cheap plastic dixie cups. Back in the room Dave and Jim talk cheap talk about movie shoots and movie stars, rented gear and rented cars.

Smashed and buried my choked butt goes
soaked out sizzling into salty snows

My trunk sinks lonely while hands light smokes
Far from home
The Omaha night sighs eyes blind
Nowhere to go.

*If you hated this poem you'll also hate the entire book! With the help of a Virginia artist, a New York artist, a Clayton writer and myself there will be a ground breaking and yet undiscovered anthology published in the coming months. It'll change the way you don't think about the world. Remember to forget all about it by marking your calender for late December/early January.

I Couldn't Have Done it Without You

2008-11-15T11:19:00.000-08:00

Oh and what it week it was! My neighbor discontinued my free use of his/her/their internet and thus I was forced out into the world -

"Don't go doing anything I wasn't invited to" I said to the guy who manages the office as I left Friday afternoon. He said something back, couldn't hear him, working hard or hardly working? maybe.

As I'd passed his desk however, I noticed that he hadn't changed the bathroom key descriptions from "Men" and "Women" to the numbers "1" and "2" as I had suggested. I just felt it more practical to sacrifice gender humility in the name of a 'pay the ticket, take the ride' sort of inclusive policy. Rebuffed! We could never risk the boys over hearing the girls. Lo, we must smell Todd from HR's morning after drunk dump whilst alls we intended was to wash our hands. Alas, even Obama and his message of change can't solve everything. But, that was Friday and we're not there yet -

Met up with an old friend Thursday, bottle of wine sharing, smoking a few butts, gnocchi and a couple of $5 top shelf martinis. "OMG WTF SRSLY, I wasn't even going to drink but like, girl, you know, I's can't pass up no Bombay Sapphire, two please!" She's an odd duck, the old friend, but wholly interesting. She's promised me Macaroni and Cheese pancakes and I have it in writing! She's disappearing on sabbatical in search of deep literarial meaning; and when she finally returns there will be breakfast! well, brunch, morning is early. As we parted ways that night I felt good, picked up the bus on Sutter and floated over to the Red Velvet Lounge and an 80's cover band with work friends - 24 oz PBR, dancing like a jackass to secure standing room only positioning and the salmon like retreat against the crowd during "Living on a Prayer" - take my hand we can make it I swear - and I was back on the street, headed home after a long and good smelling day.

Wednesday? I went to the gym for the first time without my own tunes. For a two story muscle zone filled with grunts and flexing the airwaves seemed to consist of a shit load of Fergie (sp?). P.S. Anyone know who Twilight is? Caught a glimpse of the evening news and apparently Twilight had a sold out concert somewhere? I'm old, I'm bald, I am not in touch with the youth, the pulse - man I hope Thursday is better than today.

Tuesday....um, I think I jogged and drank the floaters in my fridge from the weekend. Beer always tastes better when you tell yourself you shouldn't drink it. It's like "hey, fuck you me, you're not the boss, wait, what?" (CU: self reflection in bathroom mirror, one single tear, emotional physical collapse onto toilet - head in hands. FADE OUT:)

Monday: How was your weekend? Too short. Yeah, is it Friday yet? Seriously. (I also wore the same shirt as my boss and when I told him that he looked great he responded as though he hadn't noticed, awkward, I think he thinks we're dating now).

Sunday: The lord's day! which, apparently, means that you sober up, swear off smoking cigarettes, do your laundry and wonder if waking up in the middle of the night to eat candy bars is healthy as long as they are at least 60% Cacao.

Welp, here's to you cosmos, I'm about to shut down my electronic gab box and head off to the water, I'm so hopped full of coffee and chorizo I may just swim out to Alcatraz and sunbathe. But don't worry, I'll call you, seriously, we'll do this again.

Don't Wont for Lack of Focus: Watch!

2008-10-27T20:38:00.000-07:00

Let's turn this mutha out! The vote that is...REEEEMIIXXX:

The company I work for and thus the world lingers dangerously close to the fiscal year end. Hanging on to sanity with only data entry and internal controls, Naruto, the white Japanese face painted tiger kitten (me), struggles against all odds to save something from something that I can only imagine is more bad than something else. Will he or she act in time? (ps - Naruto means Staff Accountant for a Tunnel Design Engineering Firm in a foreign tongue):

I don't know what this means but it's creepy and we should listen to him - just remember, when all else fails, "Viva gzensch doppleganger. Goal!!! Ole Ole Ole Ole":

WASSUP!

Depression: Economic and Chemical

2008-10-21T20:45:00.000-07:00

Below are two conversations I had recently, within one hour of each other. The first was via email with my father and the second was between me and myself. The first regards my thoughts on the current stock market trading environment and the second is just something about letting go:

Economic Depression (Trading) -

i think it is a little early to TRADE long, however, I think it is as good a time as any to PARK long money. I feel like the volatility (i.e. quick money on huge swings) is waning, but, the short term (2 year) trend is still down and the fundamentals HAVE NOT changed, we're fucked. I think the election will sell off no matter who wins and an Obama win is probably already priced in (democrats are bad for the markets and what the republicans have become are bad for the world).

The fact that CNBC sees this as a buying opportunity doesn't make me think the problems have been solved, in fact it makes me believe the opposite to be stronger...either way it takes time to work itself through - the housing market took, roughly, seriously, almost two years to impact stocks to the down side - from first grumbling at happy hour with my friends to all out "disaster".

if i had enough money I would do this, 75% goes heavy long and doesn't look back, seriously, doesn't look back, lock box it. 25% of money trades down, in and out. i'm a low budget gambler so I've chosen the fun side of the two options - right now i'm averaged in to DXD, both Roth and Brokerage, at a commissioned out price of $80.04 break even. The trend is down, however, due to historic (lifetime) timing, disposable money is long, I don't have enough money to go both ways and have chosen excitement.

that's what i think.

Chemical Depression (Brain) -

I closed both lips, and
lied a little
I shut both eyes, and
spied a little
I pocketed both hands, and
tried a little
I clamped both ears, and
pried a little
She lowered her head, and
cried a little
She floated soft sounds, and
sighed a little
I shrugged both shoulders, and
died a little.

...sing it with me ya'll, got got gotta get up to get down!

Election 2008: Pie vs. Ohio

2008-10-13T21:06:00.000-07:00

If you're like me, you don't know anything about anything, except! that you love pie and hate Ohio. Pumpkin, boysenberry, apple, peach (though decidedly cobbler i'll accept it), cherry, blueberry (vanilla ice cream no longer optional) and the list goes on and on - delicious, heart felt, truly American.

Pie is great, we can all agree but, what is the exact opposite of pie? Ohio. You know the one, it's the place that grows people who stand on balconies at Mardis Gras, or on the sidewalks as parades pass, or perhaps sway drunkinly at outdoor festivals in khaki shorts, grey t-shirts, white sneakers with side parts screaming out "O.H." to which some equally mongoloid fucktard clone responds, sure enough, "I.O.". Don't even get me started on Dayton, Cleveland, Cincinnati and God forbid Columbus, the list goes on and on - obnoxious, irrelevant, heart felt, by dumb luck IN America.

Let's go to the video tape...

OHIO:

PIE:

PIE in '08!!!

More Comforting than a Dream Catcher!

2008-10-11T22:31:00.000-07:00

It wasn't too long ago that I stumbled across Rihanna. She was giving a free concert at the strip mall where I get my frappuccinos. At first I wasn't too into it, like sure, I get it, you can sing, but for real I'm talking to my BFF about what I should wear tonight, c'mon...I mean Darren is going to be there, I gots to look good. LOL.

Anyway, there was this thump thumping and a wee um bum bum, how could I just turn that shit off. Like you know? OMG WTF SRSLY! I looked at my bestie and was like BFF seriously shut up, seriously (I know I like said seriously twice, seriously). And when I turned I saw her, Rihanna, on stage and saying out loud everything that my heart seemed to thump...thump...thump...wee um bum bum...thump.

Ever since that day, whenever I'm feeling down I just....

McCain '08!

Ima Try, Whyna U?

2008-10-08T21:35:00.001-07:00

Killed myself last night,
no trails,
reasons,
notes.
No stains.

Wake up early nuff,
read papers befoe the 'thoties played namin' that smell,
simply followin' that tune,
neighborly complainting.

Why? When? How? What!?
This just in!

Wake up early nuff still be sleeps comfortable,
didn't make it into bed,
gots half a'way through living rooms,
buhfo lyin' on downs.
Gots me all da way to where finished,
done's draggin' on.

None's really dying,
you? Nah,
me? Nah,
her, him, them?
Nah.

Really think so?
maybe treat a mutha fucker,
better.

Really think so?
maybe luv a mutha fucker,
Nah.

Really think so?
maybe stop being yo'self,
Be with others.

Ima Try,
Whyna U?

Morbidly yours. Zoom!

Come to the Happy Donut on Van Ness!

2008-09-27T10:42:00.000-07:00

For the worst meal you'll only eat once,
come to the Happy Donut on Van Ness!

What's that you say?
The Bacon and the eggs, thanks.
I'm sorry I don't speak english.
The Bacon and the eggs, por favor?
I'm sorry I don't speak spanish.
The Bacon and the eggs, 谢谢?
I'm sorry I don't speak chinese.
Well what language do you speak?
Not that one, haven't you heard?
I don't know it.

For the worst meal you'll only eat once,
come to the Happy Donut on Van Ness!

Do you have hot sauce?
Ah, yes, the toast.
Do you have hot sauce?
Ah, yes, a small orange juice.
Not that one.
This one?
Not that one.
This one?
Left, left, SMALL orange juice!
So many different OJ's.
Not that one.
This one?
Ah, yes.
Hot sauce?
Toast?

For the worst meal you'll only eat once,
come to the Happy Donut on Van Ness!

But wait! didn't you see the sign?
There on the wall,
You must be fat or dead to enjoy.
What about bald?
Ah, yes, have a seat.
Next to the fat person?
No, next to the dead guy!
Of course.

For the worst meal you'll only eat once,
come to the Happy Donut on Van Ness!

This Weren't Today

2008-09-24T20:41:00.001-07:00

Below was a day I had a few days back. Today was much different. I'm sick a little bit. Nose running, cough, phlegm...generally lethargic. I watched Leaving Las Vegas and had a cherry coke, doritos and ice cream for dinner. Today was a pretty good day, all things considered. Turns out if most days are good then life can't be half bad, mathematically anyhow. Below is a different day -

Broadway on the eastern side of the tunnel. I was hungry and had about five dollars. I wandered into a small market in Chinatown. Produce everywhere. Chinese people everywhere. A wheat field with one Goliath. I barreled my way into line and was forced out, forced in, I finally got my asian pear, it weighed $0.80, I wasn't sure if I could just bite into it. I did. It was juicy all over my hand.

I crossed Broadway and went north on Stockton, toward the park. I found it. Washington Square. It was chock full of those would be bohemians and the decidedly homeless. Everyone in this town seemed to either carry a map, or scream crazy alien bullshit, or dud up like Ducky - pretty in pink. Some hipster off to the right, moustached, caned and painted on jeaned acted out some wild story. His friends cheered and clapped and smiled.

I tossed my bag onto an open patch of grass, laid down and done fell'd asleep. When I woke up I brushed off the grass clippings and tried to read my book. I couldn't focus. At first my eyes couldn't adjust to the bright sunlight. Then I just couldn't focus. I wanted a drink and a smoke. I couldn't have either; getting my life together. I had joined a gym. I couldn't go to the gym on booze I'd fall off a treadmill. I couldn't go the gym on smokes I'd die on a treadmill. I caught the Union St. bus home and got in bed. I laid there, three hours or so, waited until eight or so, to go to the gym, less people.

I got to the gym just after eight or so. Everything was moist, the people, the machines, the air. Everything always seemed too hot and too wet in this place. We were all there burning calories and passing germs. There were a bunch of tough looking queers grunting, prancing and squatting. They all looked to be in great shape. I did exercises like the women, low weights, weird contortions, anything to avoid exercise - the queers probably thought I was gay. I relegated myself to the elliptical machine and thought about smoking. I wanted a whiskey. I would have a protein shake instead. With whiskey and cigarettes I hated the mornings; without them I hated the night. I left the gym and headed home.

I walked along and watched the sun drift off towards Asia. A cool, strong, breeze came up off the bay and reminded me that I was bald. I walked and wished that some beautifully dumb woman would mindlessly go on a stop and I could keep her from getting maimed by a bus, thus striking up a conversation. That didn't happen. I walked home alone and realized that the only words I'd said out loud to another human being had been hours ago, to my boss -

"How are the census reports?" he asked.
"We're good" I said.

We're obviously not good. Waka waka.

Not Waving But Drowning

2008-09-21T20:24:00.000-07:00

(not by ntd, stevie smith)

Nobody heard him, the dead man,

But still he lay moaning:

I was much further out than you thought

And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking

And now he's dead

It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,

They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always

(Still the dead one lay moaning)

I was much too far out all my life

And not waving but drowning.

The Beam: Stated Mission (w/examples!)

2008-09-16T20:14:00.000-07:00

the Beam is some sort of narcissistic outlet for rage, empathy, poetry, self congratulation, mockery, boobery and, in the vein of the modern American political and media arenas, a way for me to celebrate and show off the creative talent of myself and my friend's under the guise of journalism, essayism, absurdism, artistryism, integrity and/or perceived objectivity. It's a way for me to do whatever I want, whenever I want and to toss the documentation thereof unsolicited into the void with the simple mashing of an 'enter' button.

the Beam is words and music and booze and cigarettes and painting and mood swings and all out buffonery! For me the Beam is laughter and impulsitude and using big words that I don't understand. For me the Beam is making things up and lying and telling it like it is about things that I either made up and/or I am lying about. But, in all truth, the Beam is simply a way to get girls.

In my quest I vow to always pander when I'm not being virtuous and virtuous when I'm not pandering. I promise to be always vigilant when I'm not trying to quell the vigilantes. I pledge, on the holiest of holies, to be rational when I'm not being absurd. But! most importantly, it is my covenant to you to honor and serve myself whenever serving someone else won't get me laid.

The Beam is the fine line we walk in our everyday lives. The line between saying what we think and what we think we should say, the line between doing what we feel is right and doing what we end up doing. It is the line that we cross each time we fail to be anything but...the Beam is action for the sake of action!

EXAMPLE SECTION (the Beam, literally translated) -

Right:
The Beam is when a known crack head friend of mine, who also happened to be my boss at the time, would leave work with his "friend" to go home; and he would find himself, automatically it seemed, on the route instead to where he bought crack. He would then smoke the crack. Converse to all stated intentions to remain on the correct path, to do what was "right", he found himself "caught in the beam".

Less Right:
Tonight as I bought my beer I saw another crack head, this time not my friend, who informed me that, in fact, "...you gotta check yourself before you wreck yourself". He then proceeded to smoke what was left of his crack, get into his late model pickup and drive off down the road. I bring this up only to illustrate what the Beam is not, the Beam is now, not then, not once you have the crack...he was more of the past tense of the Beam, he had already beamed, he was f**ked up.

Any and all submissions are welcome, just make sure that you copy your mother on it as well.

Onward, upward...zoom!