The Hydrant Was Going As Usual, And Paul Joined The Crowd. He Found Himself Soothed By The Cool Spray From The Water. He Waited With Eagerness For The Small Boy To Finish Fashioning His Paper Boat, And Enjoyed The Craft's Jolting Progress Toward Certain Destruction In The Dark, Gurgling Unknown Of The Storm Sewer...



Tonight, a 16 yr. old kid, sitting on a milk crate, told me that he was amazed at how much energy I had at work. I laughed. I don’t remember what I was doing. I think I screamed when a freezer kicked into wheezy submission or something like that. I catch the kid looking at me sometimes. Usually I’m doing something stupid or letting the shit fly out of my mouth because I have nothing else to do. Whatever flits from the lips, floats to the air and usually dies a dusty moth’s death. Stomp on all creatures my mind says, because there’s more aimless flight where that came from. This little kid has also told me that I’m funny. He’s asked me questions about myself. I’ve usually given him a bunch of responses best not repeated back to your mother and given more than many pearls of wisdom that even Jacque Cousteau wouldn’t even have the strength to dig up. No. He is not gay. He’s not even happy. Like I said…he sits. Gay guys don’t sit at work. They talk. They appreciate the background music. They move their hands around. He does not. Doesn’t matter. Gay or not. I think…that he thinks…THAT I’M COOL!?!?!?

Apparently this kid knows nothing. I’ve told him. I’m pretty honest. I’ve told him how, about, sometimes, the best of situations comes out of the worst of situations – like WORK. I tell him about how crappy things have always been and about how I don’t know how to do anything and can’t stop the THINKING. And how sometimes when you’re trapped and if you have the opportunity to give a little mishy mashy talky talk just to dull the silence of the air – you just do it, to quote NIKE. You’re half-insane anyway, you have no choice. Talk talk talk. Just don’t be annoying. My girlfriend doesn't really know how I exist outside of her world. She would both be amazed and pissed as to why I have that type of energy in the outside world and not at home. I suck at home. I'm boring. Mopey. Aching. Tired. sad. Frustrated. This is because I have a choice at home. I have many things to do. Little time. Many distractions. This frustrates me. It's like sticking a Cheetah in quicksand and then telling him you're chopping off his legs tomorrow. You go slowly go nuts. Don’t have the younger folk think that everything stupid that you did before is cool, either – it just IS. Not cool. Just...IS. It exists as fodder for stories and nothing else.

When that kid tells me that I don’t act my age and after you start telling him about how you always wanted to do a 21 Jumpstreet-type thing, but now you definitely can’t pass for a high-schooler, but how you would still hit on the little girls and the hot dance and P.E. teachers combined. The only I know is that this kid knows that there might be something different in the future for ones not yet in their twenties-there may be hope to age gracefully. This is the TRUE grace. To STILL be a sort of clever MORON. This is buying insurance when the dealer might hit Black jack. This is okay. This is not normal. This is okay. This is not normal. This is not the people that you will see at your high school reunions. This is it, said The Strokes. This is The End Of The World As We Know It, said REM. This is FILL In The BLANK. This is all I know. This is what I don't. Which is a little bit of everything. And whole lot of nothing.

But this is it. And it’s all you and me are going to get. We’ll spend the rest of our years learning, so why not break the damn dam and spew filthy beauty for the rest of your youthful years? Take your fingers out of the dike, you pervert, and just let what the hell you don’t know – flow.

Take pity on all of the young children who look up to you –

And then.........

Create a fucking army of them.

You Are My Density...

Watched most of the Back To The Future trilogy on cable today. I got my first real skateboard after seeing the first one in the theatres and used to watch it all of the time when it came out on video. I never really wanted to be Marty Mcfly, though. More Goerge than Marty. I could never be that short.

I wouldn't ever want to be around my parents when they were young either.

I just wouldn't.

They Would Want You To Enjoy What Is Before You...



Yes.
They would want you to realize the importance of your family gathering.
Yes.
They would want you to appreciate what you have to be thankful for.
Yes.
They would want you to help provide what is on the table before you.
Yes.
They would want you to pray to your god(s).
Yes.
They would want to be left alone.
Yes.
They know what works.
Yes.
They know what doesn't.
Yes.
They have a version of
Right
Yes.
and wrong
Yes.
They forgive us?
Maybe.

I wouldn't.

No way.

The only thing that you can do when you're ashamed about something that happened long ago that you didn't have anything to do with is to tell people that it SUCKED. HARD. Say SORRY. Let them know that other things went down besides Squanto/pilgrim/happy/no disease/no genocide crap...and make it better by talking about it. Hey Jude. Live the holidaze, but still realize that the only thing that makes these HALLMARKED occasions worth anything is YOUR OWN memories of good times. DON'T let some sappy ass or significant other tell you how IMPORTANT the holidays are and how you HAVE to DO THIS and how you HAVE to do THAT. Smile like a tourist. Don't be a party pooper. Roll with the flow. yeah. Say Hi. Deal with your own different family or NON family holiday obligatory craziness. BUT...man...if you get the opportunity to make it special? Great. BUT...Why now? What the hell have you been doing the rest of the year? Yes, T-Day is not as gift-giving and time-intensive as Christmas is, but - who cares? Both require too much effort. Whether your life is hard or a cake walk, you shouldn't appreciate the roadblock of prog or re gress ion. It's hard enough trying to be the saint of saints of the jack of asses without poopy doopyness cramping your style.

Take this from the guy that used to write holiday cards...

Be good.
Think like E.T.
Think like Julius from Pulp Fiction.
Be the Indians.
Be the White Man.
Be Ebeneezer Scrooge.
Be Bob What's-His-Name.
Be Luke.
Be Vader.
Be calm.

Be mindful.
Be safe.
Be sorry.
Be thankful.

Dylan and Dry Cedar...

Both the soft pop and crackles of the LP on the record player and of the burning logs in the fireplace are worthy of mentions in my cool book tonight.

Dean Martin 2008...



Kicked everybody out early because I felt like hell. Most people stayed home because it was too cold anyway. I actually got home early but then stayed up til an ungodly hour/almost daylight. Woke up early, felt horrible. Thoght about getting up and doing something, but mustv'e voted against it because I woke up at 4 pm! I hate vampires. When did I become a vampire? werewolves are much cooler. Then I raced like the rest of the lemmings in my car to pay the cable bill. O was too late for the bank. They closed at four. What kind of fucking bank closes at four? What if you have a normal fucking job. Soon, the only way you'll be able to bank is by phone. It is easier anyway. No lines. No dipfucks on cellphones in front of you. No paper.

I returned some things at the library. Looked for new comic books, but didn't feel like it. I did pick up some new scripts, though. Stopped by a friends house - but they never answer their door. I have a key and always let myself in. All they do is stay in their rooms. I just leave them messages on their chalkboards because it pisses me off that I have to be a ninja with a boombox just to get their attention. Ninja with a boombox?

I went to the liqour store. Bought a sixpack, peanuts, cornuts and thats it. If they had something else that ended with nuts, I probably would've bought it too. Some kids threw something at the window of the Iranian man's store. I came close to chasing them down, but I didn't. Coulda. Shoulda. Usually woulda. I get in enough trouble anyway.

The cats are both asleep.
Their day was good.

George R. Stewart...

You spend most of the day doing things that you don't want to do. In between bouts of busy madness, you keep yourself sane by thinking of things that make you happy and that you'll do when you get home finally.

When you get home. Activities are road-blocked, slow, or just make the clock go at a spasmodic rate. Then it too late and you should probably be in bed. You accomplish nothing. You wake up tired, fuzzy-headed and with no focus except for getting to your car. You arrive at work. You spend most of the day doing things that you don't want to do. In between bouts of busy madness, you keep yourself sane by thinking of all of the things that make you happy and that you'll do when you get home finally.

You spend most of the day doing things that you don't want to do. In between bouts of busy madness, you keep yourself sane by thinking of porno-type things that make you happy and that you'll do when you get home finally.

When you get home. Activities are road-blocked, slow, or just make the clock go at a spasmodic rate. Then it too late and you should probably be in bed. You accomplish nothing. You wake up tired, fuzzy-headed and with no focus except for getting to your car. You arrive at work. I like vegetables. You spend most of the day doing things that you don't want to do. In between bouts of busy madness, you keep yourself sane by thinking of all of the things that make you happy and that you'll do when you get home finally. How did Thanksgiving come so quickly? You spend most of the day doing things that you don't want to do. In between bouts of busy madness, you keep yourself sane by thinking of things that make you happy and that you'll do when you get home finally.

When you get home. Activities are road-blocked, slow, or just make the clock go at a spasmodic rate. Then it too late and you should probably be in bed. You accomplish nothing. You wake up tired, fuzzy-headed and with no focus except for getting to your car. I think I'm going out tomorrow. I have no idea what we're going to do. You arrive at work. I need to wrire REAL stuff. This is horrible crap. You spend most of the day doing things that you don't want to do. In between bouts of busy madness, you keep yourself sane by thinking of all of the things that make you happy and that you'll do when you get home finally. You spend most of the day doing things that you don't want to do. In between bouts of busy madness, you keep yourself sane by thinking of things that make you happy and that you'll do when you get home finally.

When you get home. Activities are road-blocked, slow, or just make the clock go at a spasmodic rate. Then it too late and you should probably be in bed. You accomplish nothing. You wake up tired, fuzzy-headed and with no focus except for getting to your car. You arrive at work. This is a hidden sentence. You spend most of the day doing things that you don't want to do. I think Renee Zellwegger looks like she got stung in the face by a bee. In between bouts of busy madness, you keep yourself sane by thinking of all of the things that make you happy and that you'll do when you get home finally. You spend most of the day doing things that you don't want to do. In between bouts of busy madness, you keep yourself sane by thinking of things that make you happy and that you'll do when you get home finally.

When you get home. Activities are road-blocked, slow, or just make the clock go at a spasmodic rate. Then it too late and you should probably be in bed. You accomplish nothing. You wake up tired, fuzzy-headed and with no focus except for getting to your car. You arrive at work. Poo. You spend most of the day doing things that you don't want to do. In between bouts of busy madness, you keep yourself sane by thinking of all of the things that make you happy and that you'll do when you get home finally. Pee. You spend most of the day doing things that you don't want to do. In between bouts of busy madness, you keep yourself sane by thinking of things that make you happy and that you'll do when you get home finally.

When you get home. Activities are road-blocked, slow, or just make the clock go at a spasmodic rate. Then it too late and you should probably be in bed. You accomplish nothing. You wake up tired, fuzzy-headed and with no focus except for getting to your car. You arrive at work. You spend most of the day doing things that you don't want to do. Still here? Be good. In between bouts of busy madness, you keep yourself sane by thinking of all of the things that make you happy and that you'll do when you get home finally.

Self, Remember To Go To The Bank And To Return Your Library Books Tomorrow...

The only thing worse than bartending one night a week is to bartend two nights a week. I just got done watching Y Tu Mama Tambien and all I want to do right now is to sleep with your mom. Or write nonsense. Okay. I'll cross that off. Done.

And The Whole Time I Was Standing In My Cat's Throw-Up...



I was just on the phone with a friend and he told me that while cleaning out his closet, he found about 1200 dollars worth of silver given to him in his last marriage. Pirate booty, indeed.

Anyway, this is very supercoolawesome because that means that when the Werewolves come - I have a place to go for ammunition.

Now all I need is for another friend to call me up and to tell me that he found some smelting equipment and then we're all set for the coming Werewolf Apocalypse.

This Is The House That Jack Built...

This is the guy you voted for last week.

It Smells In Here...

Really. It does. Bad. It can't be me - can it?

My god. Something's wrong...

This isn't right.

Please smell me and tell me if it's me.

Truman Burbank...

I'd like to go to sleep for a year. One straight year - uninterrupted - comfortable - waking up fully refreshed. It'd be interesting to see what's changed, what hasn't, and to throw one big party. I could speculate right now on what I think might be different - but I won't because I'm tired and I'm going to sleep...

Oh, Show Me The Way To The Next Wonka Bar...



I feel a little guilty about how easy my voting experience was yesterday. The place was about a five minute walk from my house, it was a beautiful day, no lines. I worked a double, so tried to get out of my day shift as early as I could - I made it with enough time to doze while Johnny Depp and Kate Winslet drank wine with Oprah. I have a friend who's working on Charlie And The Chocolate Factory right now out in London, or wherever the hell she is. Why am I not there too? Oh. Because I'm wasting my life - but I DID vote for the first time in my life today - that's excellent. Really. It is. I DO feel very happy about it. Too bad the The Dumb Little Son will win. If he doesn't, I'm going to throw a party.

I also lost a crapload of money playing poker last night. Luck hates me. I have a stack of comic books to my right ready to be sold on EBAY. This won't save me. Only Satan can.

Goodbye.