Thursday, November 18, 2010

Still as true as the day I wrote it...

Call to Arms (Battle Cry of the Amputee)

Cable ready TV,
Watching the DOW collapse in HD
This is the life
This time we got it right
Dismantle the dream
And we’ll die clutching the most important things
Predatory lending,
Broad band connection,
Inflated investments,
A libertine tourniquet,
This here’s the life
Finally we got it right
Dismantle the dream
And we’ll die clutching the most important things


The maroon colored sand in Arbil loses all recognition
When Phelps can’t hold down the breakfast of champions
And the oil fields are still burning
While our paychecks are reduced per gallon
Along with faith in government restoration


Who will be the next Native Americans
to lose their land through "good intentions"?
(Invasion for freedom)

old thoughts..

Recess in a Mine Field

As empty as a mid-western sky line
I’m the epitome of failure
Should this be considered ‘trying’
Wandering eyes,
Fitting for the blame
But I’m not the quick sand

Lyrics without music
Like movement without purpose
God gets jet lag
and three day recess
Whore drawn conclusions
Knives, like good intentions,
Come to find themselves
At home in the back.. now I sleep on my side

That which doesn’t kill you
Has a cure that will

t’s the year of the Judas
take what you want
The beauty of persistence
Is never knowing when to give up
I know who you are
Who you are
Will catch up with you

Bad complexion,
Worse investment
The smooth talker
Makes for the biggest fucking mess
Behind the scenes, pulling strings
We all know
And no one says a word
Ignoring the direction the shot will come in

…so I’ll be buried on my side

That which doesn’t kill you
Has a cure that will

Place the blame
A lot of doing nothing gets us nowhere
Crown another king
Let me know when history starts shuffling

Wait for it
Now wait for it….

Monday, November 15, 2010

Welcome to Facespace!!!!!!

There was a day, during my socially awkward larval stage, where the idea of being able to be social without being seen would've appealed to me. The possibility of asking Susie to the Steven Hawkings Dance without actually having to witness her adjusting her bangs in my reflective face grease as I stumbled through what had to be the worst sales pitch ever would've brought a sigh of relief. Alas, I grew up in a world where hands on was not always followed by the words restraining order. Now the rules have completely changed and, for all the good technology has done, it has taken away some things I was looking forward to. One such thing: the end of high school.
On my last day of my last year of the banal parade known as Public Education there was one thing I was absolutely certain of. Without a doubt I knew that, unless I decided to go to the reunion, I was never going to have to see these assholes again..EVER! No more listening to their "big talk" (a sickness generally stemming from wrongfully inflated egos) or having to hear about all their great luck that they took for granted. My last year of high school was a minefield comprised of my parents divorce and my "peers" talking about what wonderful college their parents were paying for so as I walked down to get my diploma, which marked an end to their reign, I smiled knowing that I would never have to suffer another minute with these over rated fuckwads. For years it went that way too...none of them existed anymore and it was as if god personally apologized to me for the lack of quality control back in 1978. All was right with the world. Then came social networking. Myspace, Facebook, Mybook, Facespace... Friends encouraged me to sign up so we could keep in touch after college. After what seemed like hours of pestering I reluctantly signed up. For a short time, sans the occasional spam e-mail, all was quiet on this front as well. Then, when the popularity increased, I began to get "friend requests" from people...who, in the real world, were never my friend. I changed to the competitor site in order to go somewhere under the radar. Soon they popped up there as well. Foolishly I thought to myself "Well, maybe they have grown up like me and changed...maybe it'll be different this time around. We're adults now, after all." So common sense takes a back seat to the desperate need for the glass to be half full and I begin to except friend requests. After a few weeks I realize things are not in fact like they used to be at all. In fact, they've gotten a hell of a lot worse. Now it's not just "Look at me! Look at me!" it's "Look at me! ...and my kids... and my car... and my promotion ..and my new house .. and my ...." Suddenly, my computer screen is my own personal virtual hell consisting of "feeds" describing in great painstaking detail the complete downfall of Western civilization. Now it's not a complete wash, there are good things that came with social networking. I got to keep in touch with family that were far away as well as friends over seas. All that becomes overshadowed when having to read "Can't wait...another four day weekend" followed by "NEW CAR!" followed by "OMG preggers..again!" followed by "If you feel the need to cram your beliefs down someone else's throat repost this" which leads me to my next point... People can ruin anything and social networking sites bring it to a whole new level. Take for example Atheism. I used to understand it. Now it's being crammed down my throat every other post by people trying to convince others (usually known as the Right Wing Zealots) they are right, that God doesn't exist. Honestly, now it just seems like another form of a religion. A group of people trying to make me think that they have the answer. Then there's the e-mails. Someone you haven't seen in ten years finds you. You e-mail them and ask how they are doing. They respond saying it's "been too long...need to hang out" You respond with "Let's get a cup of coffee" after which they never respond or send a response along the lines of "Well...we're talking on here" Really? How lazy can you be? Then again how foolish can I be? I thought people from high school would've changed as they got older but I guess not and I'm the same as well. I still loath and hate selfish stupidity. They still are acting selfish and stupid only now some of them have ugly, ugly babies.

Sunday, April 12, 2009

Happy Easter/ressurection day/spring/income tax finally in my account/whatever you'd like to call it-day!

I've been so busy that I almost forgot this whole thing existed. Sorry....

Went out today to eat dinner for a holiday that, unlike the others which clutter and clog the calendar, doesn't really hold it's own, not like when you were a kid. There are other holidays which lend themselves to children, such as Christmas, but can adapt to adult hood quite well. Easter is not one of them. Forgive me for trying to ruin the egg hunt for all the little Whos in Whoville, I just can't feel even an inkling of the same fondness I felt when I was young. I remember the egg hunts and the HOME MADE ham dinners along with a whole day of fun before the night would usher in the last cold grasps of a losing winter while I felt that dread, the dread that would accompany any childs Sunday night...the looming presence of school the next day. You couldn't escape it. At some point it would creep in, when people started to leave the festivities, their car doors closing like a casket. You would begin to realize that it was around four o'clock and soon it would be six, then seven, then nine and bedtime. I would hate that feeling almost as much as I hated the way it would permeate the day and cause all the fun to be drained. My father would always tell me not to focus on it, to just enjoy what was going on at that moment but I couldn't and I still to this day can't.
I hate going to resturants to eat holiday dinners. It's impersonable and the waitstaff shouldn't be at work, they should be with their family suffering like the rest of us. Hearing god awful stories about people we've never met along with trivial knowledge and pointless gripes. Half the old family is gone and the "replacements" (ie: my cousins) are not even close to those we once sat with through all those meals gone awry. Nobody laughs like my step-mother or yells like my great vavo or tells stories like my great grandmother. I'd give anything to 'suffer' like I used to, trying to find eggs (while secretly letting my younger sister get the ones I found) and hear those stories again, just one last time.
While I generally have a habit of thinking backwards at most holidays there's something in the present that anchors me and makes me feel that same happiness felt long ago...this holiday isn't one with such an anchor.
The best thing that happened was working on writing while watching an amazing artist work her magic. I only wish I had half her talent. In that respect it was a good day.
Trying to find work using my voice for either on air broadcasting or voice over work. Been told numerous times that I'd have better luck being struck by lightning after which Jesus hands me a Wonka Bar which just happens to have a golden ticket buuuut I know I have the perfect voice for it and just need to keep trying.

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

my meeting with Tom or Knowing What Sounds Too Good

I never make the most of my time. I should. There will be plenty of time to rest later on, in eggshell white antiseptic rooms with tubes and jello. However these days I think a lot more than anything else, besides work.
Work is essential and at the same time antagonizing, it is the ultimate love/hate relationship. When I was destitute and almost on the street, due to our lovely medical as well as health care system being composed of a bunch of elite fuck ups, finding a job was my main goal. I remember being approached by a man one day while killing time in a friends store. The man, sporting nice clothes, was picking up a decent watch at the shop and began to talk to us. This conversation, at first over mundane things, began to turn to that of employment. He mentioned that he wanted to meet up with me to discuss my future employment with his company at 9am at a coffee shop in town. Having no car I walked to the coffee shop in a suit and tie, the whole while thinking how much I really needed this job and maybe, just this once, a random thing that I hear happening to others would happen to me: the right place/right time syndrome. I arrived, starving and sweaty and waited for him. He arrived in a nice brand new Mercedes only adding to the hopes that this could be the real thing. We proceeded to sit down and discuss my future employment. As he opened his folder and began to talk to me I came to the realization that this was a sham...not a full time job and not a reputable company. He started the conversation with "I know you need a job and I think you have potential.." and I stopped listening around the point of "..I mean my wife owns a heating oil business, inherited, so that's where the money comes from...(points out to car..and I looked at down at mine, wingtips from Sals Boutique)" He called me several times trying to get me go to various functions, said I owed it to him. I declined each time and eventually he disappeared back into the very shadows he came from.
Wonder how his Mercedes, bought with his wifes inheritance, is holding up? My wing tips are just fine...

Sunday, January 25, 2009

Good Night Admiral...

"through narrow skies
Sapling died white
over time
with each step the years shed
until there's nothing left
and we're at the end...the beginning again to me"

I remember the Chinese lanterns flowing in the June breeze. I remember the bugs flying in the darkness and the choir of bug lanterns sounding off in the distance. I can still hear the loud voices of the adults, whose faces were red due to a mixture of too much alcohol and too much sun. I remember my sister and I playing tag and hide and go seek along with my cousins. I remember the way it all would end with people packing tupper ware and weary eyed kids into Buicks and Pontiacs, beeping horns and waving goodbye while my parents, my sister and I would walk across the back yard, through the white rose covered trelis and to our house. I remember listening to the moths flutter against the screens as I drifted off to sleep, thinking this is how it was always going to be.
In a conversation I had with my great-grandmother (who owned the house the cookouts were held at) I talked about bringing those parties back. It was an attempt, on my part, to try to salvage the way the family was before people sort of wandered off and stopped talking. I finally convinced her to have the parties again. Not long after that conversation she went into a nursing home and the house was sold.

I remember laying on the grass and looking through the weeping willows, up at the blue sky, imagining walking on the clouds as I moved my sneakers so it looked like I was standing on the sky itself. I remember her giving my cousin and I cookies and us having inside jokes only he and I would know.

...sometimes I still try to walk on the clouds

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

When laughing is wrong..

Here's a small example of why I'm going to hell...not that anyone at all is reading it's kind of like a confessional with a deaf priest. Twice as pointless!!!!!!!
There are people that, when shitty things happen to them, you sort of smirk...before laughing. This is usually because the aforementioned person(s) said horrible things to you, used you, left you to die and didn't care. Nothing could stop them. they got promotions without trying. Were given opportunities over and over while you scrambled to catch one break. They let you know it too. There was no justice. Then karma comes the form of some automobile.

How’s the bike?

I never knew you..
Though I touched your lips
And laughed at your jokes
And when plans fell through
I found a million excuses
But only my head at the end of the rope

Round and round we go
And where we stop..
how am I to know ?

So I thought the real you
Would again accompany
Something other than selfish and cold
But in truth
You were never one to share anything
Including, apparently, the road…

Round and round we go
And where we stop
Could just happen to be where you cross

Two fingers behind your back
Dare I ask?
Do they allow laptops in the intensive care unit?
The epitome of irony:
all those things you said
And now who‘s lying on a gurney
A johnny is flattering
For your lack of figure

Round, round, round
we go…
From steering wheel,
to axel, to tire, to your ankle

Today karma paid retroactively…