Here Comes the Rage Again (Falling on my head like a sweet emotion)

Hello friend.  Where have you been? 

Like a favorite t-shirt or muscle memory it feels nice when things make sense.  Joy comes in the smallest packages sometimes.  For me it is a new lifestyle and quite reflection and added responsibility.  Other times it is a challenge that is thrown down.  Time to time I get the gauntlet across the face and tossed at my feet.  Most times I let it go. 

Not today.  Not again.  There are times you must kick some ass and lay down some vengence on those who would attempt to poison and defile my brothers.    but enough plagarism...

Most of the time I am good.  Hell most of the time I am great.  I have embraced my new role as being responsible for those whose livelihood relys on me.  I have embraced the role of provider and bread winner.  I have embraced the role of being responsible. A task that can been especailly daunting for a contrarian like myself, but there is one role I cannot accept.  Accepted racism. 

It seems to be a common practice to be okay to hate those around me that are different.  This generation it is okay to hate the muslims (note: not terrorist accepted racism dictates you call them terrorists, but fuck that.)

The generation before it was okay to hate the asians (note: not communists, accepted racism dictates you call them communists)

The generation before that it was okay to hate the jews (note: not eastern europeans, accepted racism dictates you call them eastern europeans)

And on and on it goes.  A roller coaster of hate and fear and greedy misconceptions.  A fear of not being the generic white businessmen that made this country great.  Nice to put a fluffy little discription on things, like give us your tired your, poor, your disenfranchised as long as they are not Mexican, or black, or Mormon, or Cuban, or Korean, or gay.

Each generation gets a new breed to hate.  Accpeted racism.  I am just old fashioned, that is what is how I grew up.  Is it the same as saying I was just following orders?  I did not mean to kill six million jews. I was doing what my daddy told me to do; what I was taught.  

Who will be left to hate?  We have to be running out of options soon?  Right? 

We currently live in a country that incarcerates more people then anywhere else on the planet.  Our schools are over run with people who invaded this country illegally and cannot speak our national language.  (The official language of the US is American; a junk language of slang, ebonics, tex-mex, and very very bad english [blog grammer nonwithstanding]). 

I say fuck the Candians!  That is who we should focus the next generation towards.  I mean they still have winter.  How dare they have winter!  I want winter.  Free health care!  Not on my continent.  Manifest destiny and shit. 

Me

Joke of the day:  What do you call a liberal? 

Someone who has not been mugged yet. 

2:18 PM - 9 Comments - 12 Kudos - Add Comment

Good Times

It is very unlike me to find the creative juices when things are going well.  They say that art is suffering, and I am here to tell you, at least for me, it is very true.  Yet, here I sit feeling happy and content and wondering how life could get much better in my happy little home. 

I have been promoted and moved across the country from my beloved state of Texas and firmly planted in South Carolina where life is a bit slower and a lot less anxious.  I have had, and continue to have, a tough time adjusting to my new surroundings.  My natural inclination is to move quickly and speak quickly and unfortunately that is foreign to the "folks" that hail from these parts.  I am viewed by most as a bit of an unusual blip on what most consider a very perfect radar. 

The people here are very nice, but they fit nicely into a very tight conservative box.  Everyone looks the same.  The guys are all very frat boyish with their short cropped hair and a ball cap resting a top their heads.  Most wear their team colors in the form of sweat shirts in the winter or a slimming sweater vest when feeling casual.  They are all very cookie cutter and nondescript.  The woman are more of the same.  Each adorn themselves with fashions of the late nineties or early aughts and as life moves a bit slower here things have a tendency to not be very modern. 

The city itself is a picture right out of Pleasantville, which I have decided is the perfect name for this place and have written a strongly worded letter to the city asking them that they change their city name to accommodate me.  I have received  no response to date. 

We have a nice apartment downtown with in walking distance of the major shops and restaurants and bars.  It is a nice two bedroom second floor apartment in a four-plex that was converted from an old house that was built in the 1920's.  There are a ton of windows that let the accursed sunlight in and make the apartment very warm and cheery.  On a cold afternoon I often sit basking in the sunlight that filters in and warm myself while watching the clock tower on the art museum next door slowly tick away.  Most of the time I giggle and think of the Back to the Future and secretly hope it gets struck by lightning. 

The downtown area is picturesque to say the least.  Complete with upscale shops, which I never see anyone enter, to ice cream shops, local bars, and even a toy store.  The toy store is appropriately named O.P. Taylor's Toy Emporium and anyone who grew up in the seventies and eighties would instantly feel as if they were somehow transported back to their youth.  When was the last time you saw Lincoln logs, or an actual kite? 

Everything is perfect. 

Like Stepford Wives perfect. 

While it may sound nice to those who are living in the rat race, there are some serious draw backs.  Again the people are all very nice, in that southern way, but they all look exactly the same, and it is starched white to say the least.  Unfortunately there are some serious racial undertones that seemed to be accepted here as common place and it is "just the way we are".  The education system here is a joke that the locals are not sharp enough to understand as they have tumbled two spots from number 48 to number 50 in the nation.  Ranked somewhere behind Mississippi, Alabama, and Jethro.  Which of course makes for some very interesting discussions. 

Let me give you a typical weekend in Pleasantville.  I shower and shave and see what the wife is up to.  I dress as my normal self, dark colors, hair up in my new fang led fo-hawk. Darwin symbol emblazoned across my chest and roll out.  A short walk later I am sitting in my favorite watering hole and sipping on an adult beverage of choice.  It is winter so it is probably gin and sour.  I sit watching a sporting event and listening to a debate from the people who are closest to me about how the greatest president this nation has ever seen would be on Ronald Reagan, the hair on the back of my neck moves to full attention.  Another fellow, probably not from here, with a most serious expression suggests that Lincoln was probably the best, to which he is met with stunned silence.   The natives become restless.  This is unusual that someone would shake the box.  The alpha male of the group begins to preen and bristle and stammer.  The first salvo is how good old Ronny beat the hell out of the commies and what did Lincoln ever do?  I giggle.

Bad mistake. 

The group now swings full round to look at me.  I meet their gaze, while trying to avoid eye contact, (that is easiest way to anger a wild beast, which I learned at an early age when I called my brother a homo sapian.  I still have scars from that day).  They look at me.  I smile.  A cloud of confusion moves across their faces.  I am sure they are wondering why their beloved Jesus Fish, that I am wearing, has feet.  One person actually cocks his head sideways like a dog hearing something that peeks his curiosity but cannot understand. 

I can see their confusion turn to anger and just as they are going to let me have it with the full force of their mental abilities I am saved.  Somewhere in the bar someone begins the chant for the local sports team.  Immediately the entire place begins screaming and chanting for their beloved University.  I see this as my opportunity and gather up my stuff and slip out. 

I walk home happy and smiling, feeling the urge to kick over a trash can just to see a little disorder in Pleasantville.  To watch the mechanics that keep this place so clean and perfect come squiring out of their holes to make sure it is tidy and clean. 

I walk past the library, and behind the museum, checking the time on the clock tower, and hum "Back in Time" and secretly hope for a bolt of lightning. 

Me

7:15 AM - 6 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment

Deconstructing My Construction

Nice guys finish last....

There are a few constants in the universe.  Gravity, higher taxes, constant wars, death.  And there are things that are invitable.  Politicians that lie, bombing brown, or yellow people, and people who will eventually try to take what is yours because they think they deserve it.  Sometimes it is the material things, like your TV or your checkbook, and sometimes it is your dignity and your pride.  Most of the time it comes down to stealing your trust.  We trust in people because we are social creatures and we tell too much even when our better judgement says not to.  Or we offer a helping hand to people in hope that Karma, or whatever will give us a nod.  Maybe, just maybe, it will secure our place in heaven.  Perhaps there are good people out there?  Good honest people who do not want to jump up and down on you when you are at your lowest point.  Good honest people who don't want anything from you, that don't make false promises and then expect something in return when the deal is done.  Maybe. 

I have never been accused of being nice.  Often I find that people confuse kindness with weakness and I find it a difficult balance to strike with caring about other people while still taking care of myself.  I give too much and don't put my foot down when the time of being nice has drawn its course and then lash out at the injustice of it all.  But I am learning. 

Another constant I seem to be dealing with, or at least ramming my head against, as of late, are those around me with a superiority complex.  I understand this.  I really do.  When faced with a situation where people feel powerless they have a tendency to pick on the weaker of the herd.  To make themselves feel better.  To strengthen their stanse in the world so they don't feel weak.  Nobody likes to feel weak.  Nobody likes to feel that they have been screwed over.  Yet we do it again and again to make ourselves feel better. I am guilty of it.  And not being a beautiful unique snowflake I am sure others are as well. 

Is our culture that far off the track?  Or are we just being the dumb animals with thumbs and tools that we have been since our mutant relatives fell out of the trees?  If the smaller monkey has a bannana and the bigger monkey comes and steals it, only in turn to have the biggest monkey steal it from him is that humanity?  Or is that comedy?  Are they one in the same? 

I wonder if it comes down to accountability?  I mean it cannot constantly be somebody elses fault.  Eventually there has to be a hard look in the mirror where one says, yeah that was wrong.  That was me.   

I am not a religious person, but there are ten rules I consider a pretty good measuring stick to live your life by.  One of which says don't steal peoples shit.  If I lose my TV I will be able to replace it.  If I lose my checkbook, it is an inconvenience.  If I lose my faith in the people I care about I have lost everything. 

ME

PS

Cher cousin,
Je voudrais vous voir bientôt.  La vie est terrible et je dois entendre vos mots de conseil un encouragement

10:19 PM - 9 Comments - 12 Kudos - Add Comment

My Roommate

Ah the joys of living alone.  I really have not found anything that really beats it.  I mean I come and go as I please I do things the way I want, and if I don't like somebody in my house I can throw them out.  Which is one of my favorite things to do.  If they annoy me I don't have to be nice to save their feelings I just toss them on their ear.  Hell I do it for fun sometimes, especially after they have been drinking.  I especially like that look of shocked horror as you close the door and bolt it.  It really is the simple things in life that bring people joy. 

Still I find myself lacking in some of the creature comforts of life.  Like somebody to do all the annoying things that I don't like to do.  Cooking cleaning, dishes, paying bills.  I have way too many things to ponder and simply don't have time for the inane, mundane chores of life.  I mean really the issues of the world are not going to solve themselves, and really who else is going to do it unless we all pitch in.  So, I have to have a lot of free time to do my part.  I care about the planet and stuff man, I really do.

Unfortunatly all the issues that I have to deal with in the massive brain that I have do require a tremendous amount of thought and time and energy, and I have really gotten used to having a clean home, with food and the magic of electricity.  I recently went to my buddies house in WF and it felt like a crack den.  No offense to him it is just the way he likes to live.  Me I cannot live like that anymore I have gotten way too comfortable in living in clean conditions.  And to be honest I don't really like bugs.  They freak me out a little (yes, I know that is a punch in my man card, eff you).  I blame my parents who allowed me to watch Creep Show at an early age, and it scarred me for life. 

To eleviate this problem I figured I would have to go back to my guitar player roots and find a girl to shack up with (what do you call a single guitar player? Homeless lol) or if push came to shove find somebody I could possibly co-habitate with. 

Enter my roommate. 

Now, you have to understand I cannot live with just anybody.  I have certain quirks.  Like the need to stay up until five in the morning listening to music really loud and, once again, pontificating on the world today.  So, I had to find just the right person.  That and I live in a pretty small place so we would have to be real close or he would have to have excellent hygene. 

I met him one night when I was out alone at a local dive trying to pick up some honeys and bring them back to my crib for a late night snack, if you know what I mean, lol.  And there he was sitting there all pathetic and frumpy and looking sad.  I knew I had my mark right away.  It helped that he was drinking rum and coke so at least we had something to talk about, that and he knew a lot about football.  It turned out he was in a pretty low place in his life and didn't really know anybody and was on some sort of voyage of self discovery, whatever that is, and was looking for a place to crash for a little while until he could figure himself out.  Score. 

I told him straight up he could stay at my place for a little while if he agreed to stay out of my way and handle some of the cleaning duties, and in return I would work and pay the bills.  Kinda like having a girlfriend without the benifits, oh wait that is a wife, so never mind.  The way his face lit up I thought maybe I had found his lost puppy or something and he just kept shaking my hand.  Kinda creeped me out a little but I was desperate so what are you going to do? 

He moves in a couple of days later and inspects the place with a bit of a furrowed brow.  I guess he was a little amazed by how I lived.  I explain to him that I am a very busy and important person and I don't have a lot of time to bother with certain things and he had agreed to it so too bad for him.    He does not say much to me just kinda shacks his head and gives me this wussy half smile that he has.  I toss him a key and head off to work ready to conquer my day.  Carpe Diem and all that shit.

Later that night I come home and the house is in great shape.  I was amazed, apparently he spent most of the day cleaning and scrubbing and doing laundry and the bills were orginized and payed and dinner was on the stove waiting for me.  Hell he even left instuctions on how to heat it up for me since he works nights I probably would not even see him.  Score part II. 

The weeks go by and I don't see much of my roommate, but I am in heaven.  It is like little weird, sad, fairies come to my apartment everyday and leave me little treats of food and cleanlyness.  It is awesome and since we work opposite schedules I don't even see him.  It is the greatest thing ever.  He is the greatest roommate ever. 

Living with somebody is hard work, and there is a ton of give and take.  For me it is little things like leaving the dish in the sink and watching it magically disapper the next day, or finding my shoes in my closet even though I know I left them by the computer before I went to bed.  Still, there are some things that bother me a little bit.  Like for example.  I am not sure he is not sleeping in my bed when I am at work, which really freaks me out.  He says he sleeps on the couch but I don't know.  I might have to come home for lunch one day to find out, but I don't want to scare him off, so I will leave it as ignorence is bliss for the time being.  Another thing is on the rare time that we are there together I hear him talking in his sleep.  The other night I woke up to him shouting at somebody.  I jumped up and ran in the living room, wishing I had my gun, and there he was smooth asleep on the couch arguing with his imaginary friend.  I thought about waking him up, but then I would have to talk to him, and I really don't want to do that.  I am so glad that I don't talk in my sleep, because that is just wierd.  He also apperently has a pretty severe myspace addiction.  I told him he could use my computer anytime he wants, and I thought he would make his own site, but he says he likes to use mine.  I have so many friends that I don't know that I don't even recognize my own sight anymore.  It really does not bother me too much, except when he gets on and blogs like some weepy girl.  I just let it go though.  It is all about compromise, but still arranging parites and learning all about himself?  Please.  The only way to discover who you are is at the bottom of a rum bottle.  That is self discovery. 

All in all though I like the situation a lot.  I don't see him very much and other then the occasions when he is crying himself to sleep on the couch I don't mind it so much.  At some point I have to toughen him up a bit or something because it does get to be a little much.  But, at the same time it is pretty nice to come home to a clean apartment. 

MB

9:49 PM - 13 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment

House Warming Party IV

Can I get a Witness....

I am still learning to let go of the control I have built up, and I suppose that goes a long with learning to trust people.  While I don't think that will ever fully be possible I am finding that the people I want to be near are getting easier and easier to spot.  My instincts serve me well. 

I have to say for this gathering I was not in the least bit worried or nervous at all.  I knew without a doubt that everyone was going to show.  Everything was planned and arranged and designed with success written all over it.  The guest list was a little different then I originally planned but sometimes you have to role with the punches and the core group that I wanted to be there had called me earlier in the day to make sure I did not need for anything. 

The players this time included, Davona, Lindsey, Tara, Dan, Dart, Josh, Jessica, Adrian, Jason, Cory, April, and Jody.  Now this is not the idea I had in mind when I began this experiment.  Any control group greater then seven people starts to splinter into different smaller groups, and clicks are formed, and then suddenly one group is trying to eat the other group to get their power and it gets to be too much.  But, what do you do?  You persavier and you press forward.  Damn what a total whip to have to hang with people you like and respect, and that bring good rum.

Adrian is new to my little circle of friends, but his taste in music, and humor are very much right in line with everyone that I know and think of as a friend.  His lovely wife Jessica, and the kung fu jew were late additions to the group, but as I have stated earlier I will not bar my door from anybody, and to be honest I don't think it would have been as much fun without them. 

The Jew.  My lefty brother from another mother.  Very few people on this planet can crack me up more then the Josh man. 

Dan, is my guru and I seek his input on most things I consider difficult to decide on.  He is a constant voice of wisdom and knowledge that makes me beg the question, how does a person have that much time to gather some much information.  He is like a sponge.  It really is amazing.  Dart, as Dan says, runs circle around him in that regard, she is brilliant, and witty, and cordial. 

Tara I have know for a while now, and I consider her a friend that I can tell her just about anything.  I know that she will not judge me or make light of a situation and knows when to encourage me.  It seems that we travel in the same circle for a while and then we drift away only to find each other again a couple of years later and are able to pick back up where we left off. 

I was most excited to see Davona, she is a power and passion rolled into one.  Like a mother bear she is a staunch defender of her friends and family.  She is unyeilding from her principles of right and wrong but realizes that other people get to make their mistakes.  I have only spoken with her a handful of times, but I know she gets it.  She is without a doubt an individual, she has her own face, while being a wife and a mother and a good friend.  I knew her back in the college days, but only for a short time.  Once actually, but it created a lasting impression on me that I still use to this day.  A moral compass in three simple words.  Her ability to sum up people and read them is unmatched by anyone I have ever met.  A great example of that is her friend Lindsey, who in engaging when you break down the wall of shyness.  Under the quite demenor rages a furnace that would probably blind the common person.  It is an untapt resourse that I am sure only a few have seen.  I shudder at the thought of making her angry. 

The common denominator?  All of these people are funny and make me laugh so hard I want to cry.

The plan of course was to start around 8 or 8:30.  I got a call from the Josh man saying he would be arriving at 7:58.  As I hung up the phone Tara, Dan and Dart were knocking on the door with a gang of food.  I scarcely had time to give quick hugs before they were banging out a host of greek  food. 

Those who know me know I am not very adventurous with food.  I would rather eat soemthing simple and not worry about any adverse effects.  It is something I consider my biggest weakness.  My hightened sense of a gag reflex with reject a dish or plate by sight or smell and I will have to go through the embarrasing fact that I eat like an eight year old and let the entire world know that I have this weakness.  I have this huge fear of having to retreat to the bathroom to get the vile source of discomfort out of my body before anybody realizes what is going on.  I am trying to work on it.  I really am.  With Dart and Dan it is a ton easier.  First of all I cannot say no to Dart, and I don't want to get the look of disapprovement from Dan, so I tried it.  I kept it down and it was pretty good.  Score one for the grown up side.  I still have a long way to go, but it is progress. 

Josh was blowing up my cell phone at 7:58 asking me for better directions so I met him down stairs and guided him and Adrian and Jessica in.  Quick hellos and introductions and Davona is knocking with her friend Lindsey. 

The food is ready, the drinks start to flow, the music is up, and we are under way. 

As I said any control group greater then seven starts to splinter off.  I can see the division lines immediatly, people are grouping with who they know.  This will not do.  I give up the chair and have Dan direct music and give the kung fu jew a little nudge.  Show time.  It is something crazy to see when Josh gets rolling.  And he was in rair form this evening using the window as a back stage he hit his routine in stride.  Adrian not be out done rolls into his bit, and I am laughing my ass off.  I hear Tara with her infectious laugh and it cracks me up even more. 

Getting to know Davona and Lindsey was a great pleasure I learned more about them then I thought I would that night, but for Tara and Davona to hit it off the way they did was pure icing on the cake.  I think that people were happy, and had a good time.  I know I did, I cannot remeber the last time I had laughed so hard.  Davona told me about how she kicked a guy out of Texas, then I made her take Tequila shots.  Scoreboard.  All in all it was very positive. 

With people with such intense personalities it is going to end quickly. Or at least too quick for me.  Josh had that look in his eye and I knew he was tapped.  So the groups decided it was time to go.  For me the beast was awakened and I was ready to continue.  Fortunatly for me phase II kicked in as Jason, April, Cory, and Jody came calling around midnight after seeing 311 play.  Everybody said their hellos and introductions and then good byes and we were onto the next stage. 

Jason Scholl has been a friend of mine since I was in high school.  We have had a million and one good times, and a couple of really crappy ones.  He is a close, close old school friend.  He is one of the big players in the inner circle and only a hand full of people know me as well as he does.  If he needs a kidney he does not have to look far.  If he needs me to move a body I am there.  Thank Gods he knows somebody that pours concrete. 

His girlfriend April is a good stabalizing force for Scholl and is in her own rights a force to be reckoned with.  April has really come into her own over the last few years and it has been fun watching the maturation.  It is a good pairing those two. 

Jody, is a buddy from college, we used to sit and smoke cigarettes and play music together, and try to kill each other in drinking games.  Well, mostly me trying to kill him. 

Cory I did not know but he seemed like a good guy, and he had a great attitude when we grabbed the dice and broke into a three man game.  It is hard to play when you are dealing with professionals of this caliber.  He did well though.  We played a few hands of Mille Bornes after that and Scholl was kind enough to hit the Jack in the Crack for a three AM food run.  Stuffed and boozed up it was time for them to say good night. 

I closed my door at 4 AM and shook off the rum haze.  Wondered how long this effing blog was going to be, and smiled.  It was excatly what I needed.  I have been in a bit of a funk as of late, but I can see a break in the clouds.  Good friends, good times.  To all of them I say thanks.  You are great people and as always you make my life better since I know you. 

Next up?   Anaya, Rhett, Arizona, Travis, Ed and his wife.  I think.  How many more? 

ME

4:19 PM - 10 Comments - 9 Kudos - Add Comment

Eff you, Eff you, You're cool, and Eff you

You can never go home again....

A whirlwind tour of the Falls town this weekend.  It was, and always is a bit of a beating.  To set the scene my oldest friend, Aggie, has decided to join the Army, and his send off was on Saturday.  Now I am very proud of him for wanting to serve his country and all that, but I do have some reservations about the entire procedure.  He is a thirty year old white male with a two pack a day habit, and a penchent for drinking bottles of Makers Mark.  He is not the person I think of first when it comes to respecting authority, and I wonder if he can hold up physically.  From what I understand the military is certainly not what it used to be as far as hardcore training.  Never being in the military I have no point of reference, but I have heard of a "time out card" that a G.I. can produce to his sergeant if it gets too intense for the recruit.  I don't know if this is true or not, but I can imagine this card getting a lot of use at 4:30 in the effing morning when the drill sergeant gets the day started.  I wonder about his choice and the timing of the whole thing, I tried to explain to him that we are in a shooting war, and that it is becoming very unpopular here at home.  And while I believe that this country has learned a lesson from our past mistakes and I don't think we will have people spitting on our G.I.'s when they return home I am concerned that those lessons will be forgotten if this thing gets even more ugly then it all ready has.  I am sure when Vietnam began and the body count was at 3000 then there was plenty of support back at home for the troops.  I am not that well versed on the subject so I would hate to speak out of turn about it, and to be honest I don't believe it is the same type of war and with the media and the camera's and the intense world pressures I would doubt that there would be too many opportunities for war crimes. 

Still I worry.  I know that everyone must make their own decisions in this world and I will not stand in the way, but it is my nature to be concerned.  I like to know that my flock is safe and secure and not intentionally putting themselves in harms way.  I am sure he will be fine and hopefully he will get the assigned job he was told about, fire support for a missle platform, punching in coordinates and hitting targets with surgical strikes.  Sounds lke a video game, but it sure beats going door to door in sweeps.  Leave that to the young guys that are bullet proof and crazy I say. 

Going home has been, in recent years, a very uncomfortable thing for me.  I associate a lot of poor decisions I have made in my life with that place and those inevitably come to mind when I am making the drive or see certain buildings and people.  I often worry about running into people that I really don't want to see or have no business associating with.  I am not the person I was when I was there last, and I would like to think that I have grown as a person since then.  Which, sadly, does not seem to be the case for many of the people in that town.  There is so little opportunity there unless you want to work in a factory, or in the medical proffesion.  While I have a solid group of friends that I would do anything for, and for the most part they seem to be making strides to change their lives for the better, I do worry about stagnation.  I understand how easy it is to get into a job and a life that is convenient for a few years and look up and seven years has passed.  I am the worlds worst about getting comfortable and staying there.  I work in a job that takes minimal effort and is pretty much a time waste so I am not throwing stones, but I do worry. 

So, the party is filled with drama, baby mama's making people tense.  Hurt feelings of not being respected and drunken brawls that for some reason I feel the need to break up?  What is that about?  I would hate to see my friends house get trashed over people being drunk and I certainly don't want to see anybody go to jail, but I don't get involved in these things.  If you want to get drunk and beat the crap out of each other I will probably run lines and give odds, but I don't want to see my friends going away party ruined by the actions of a couple of idiots.  Unfortunatly though that seems to be the prevailing thought in that town.  Fuck, fight and drink.  Just not neccesaraly in that order.  Again it is who one chooses to associate with.  I am fortunate that most of my firends are not the violent type, and there has never really been a need to do that kind of thing.  Save one time, but we don't need to discuss that.  Again poor decisions in that town bring up memories that hurt.  Small town Texas. 

Overall I would say it was an ok time, a bit bitter sweet, with the over drama and the chaos I did not see Aggie leave so I did not get a chance to say good bye, but I had hung with him during the day so at least I know that we parted company on good terms.  It is always great seeing my old school friends, even though they are becoming fewer and far between as the years march on. 

Still the thoughts were swirling in my head all night.  Like a vortex of self doubt and pity.  As I sat in my corner and observed I could over hear the guy I knew in High School talk about forming a bad ass metal band that would change the face of music, and the drunken girl cry about how her boyfriend/ex-husband was cheating on her, yet went home with some random stranger.  I don't hold myself above anybody, I really don't, but recently I got to rub elboys with the cream of the crop of scum bags and it felt the same Saturday.  I so wanted to be back in my hovel on Saturday alone with my thoughts and my rum and not be where I was.  Choices. 

There are very few things I regret.  Sure a do over on a couple of things would be nice, but regrets are something I don't afford myself.  Regrets make for doubt, doubt leads to hesitation, and hesitation will kill you.  I always stand by a decision even if it turns out to be so wrong that small countries have to be bombed back to the stone age.  But I do afford myself a chance to go back and look at the timeline that is my life every so often.  I know that there has never been a paramount moment in my life when I looked up and knew that was my path.  Like most people it is a collection of little things here and there that push us in certain directions and rock us like the tides.  That is shite.  That takes life out of your hands and makes one react instead of being active.  Sure things happen, but whithout a solid plan I am doomed to repeat the same catastophic events over and over again.  That is insane.  Everytime there is a convergence there has to be a divergence somewhere else.  Every decision has a consequence.  Those are the things I want to control.  A plan, a goal, an expectation to myself.  Not status quo.  Not typical.  Not reactionary.   I don't want to find myself in the situation where everything has gone to pot so I will just run off and join the army, or the circus, or off the grid (again). 

Change is hard.  It would be nice to have a map.  I suppose I should make one. 

ME

P.S.

Thanks to you who have gone the extra mile as of late, I have needed you and you have been there. 

11:55 AM - 7 Comments - 7 Kudos - Add Comment

House Warming Party III

All good things come to an end....

What an interesting treat it is to get to know people that you get to see everyday.  The great experiment continues as the house warming get togethers keep on rolling.  This go around the players included Larry and David, Heather, and Anne.

I was particuliar nervous about this get together.  It was outside my control group of really close friends and the common interests were stretched a bit thin to say the least.  But, as usual my instincts served me well and I knew that the peole who were here would get along well. 

Larry and David have been friends of mine for about three years.  They were one of the first sets of people I met when I first moved here.  They have always been gracious with their home and their time and it was nautral that they were here.  Larry has a wealth of knowledge about movies and wines and is quick with a kind word or insightful conversation.  David and I have had a running quarters game for the three years and I think of him as my nemisis when it comes to that.  We are often throwing barbs and jokes at each other.  He tells me I suck at quarters and I call him old. 

Anne and Heather work at the same place I do and are probably my two favorite people that work there.  Excluding the Ricans who I have to see everyday.  Anne is probably the nicest person I have ever met.  If she ever says anything bad, she is quick to feel guilty and cover her face and try to retract it as quickly as possible.  I really don't trust people that nice, I wonder when they are going to snap and if I am going to be a target when they do.  I often call her the devil because I know she is trying to fool me.  Those who know me would probably assume that we would be like water and oil.  She is nice, and I am cranky.  Not so, she is very cool and I think she might see through my bullshit, even if she is too nice to call me on it. 

Heather and I talk all the time at work and I have really enjoyed getting to know her.  She is not really afraid to speak her mind and is pretty outgoing with people, with a hint of darkness that I dig. 

So, I sat prepairing and started to wonder what direction this night was going to go, again this was outside my control group.  There is a bit of an age gap between the two groups, and that worried me.  Heather being a huge fan of older music was an obvious choice since her music taste would mesh with Larry and David's, and no I don't mean big band music that David probably grew up listening to.  What is he going to do it was a time before the invention of the radio.  When you have to get your music from the county fair you know you are old.  I know certain topics would be off limits, there would be little talk of the war or sports, my two favorites, and I would try my best not to bring those up.  Then I decided the best course of action would be to let go.  No control, no preconceived ideas or planning would work.  Let it be organic, and spontanious, and lets see what would happen.  Tough for me.  I generally don't let myself not have a plan.  Couple that with the fact that I work with two of these people meant I had to practice a bit of restraint.  Something I am not as good at as I should be.  Why is it always a good idea to practice modiration when you are halfway throught the handle of rum?  Man, I love rum!  More on that later. 

It was getting close to go time and we had a storm brewing outside, I heard a peel of thunder and lost power. Warm beer and talk via candle light was not my idea of a fun spontanious evening for sure.  Fortunatly the power was only out for a short time, and David was calling me to ask if I needed anything.  Followed by Heather asking for better directions.  I guided her in and no sooner did she take off her shoes and grab a beer then Larry and David pulled up.  I went down to greet them and help carry stuff in, and Anne arrived.  I ushered them all in and gave a quick tour, which is pretty pointless in my hovel.  Introductions were made, drinks were made, the music was up and we were underway.

Conversations were light and polite.  I sitting in my perch directing music and praising the glory of limewire and watching my P's and Q's.  The last thing I need is to have rumors about how much of a raging drunk I am started at work.  Like they don't know. 

So the alcohol starts to flow and the convesations get a bit darker.  I was completly surprised by the topics that came up.  Topics of death and ghosts and the here after.  Nightmares and visions of the future seemed to dominate much of the talk.  I got pretty excited at a couple of points but cooled myself down and had to tap the brakes a little bit.  

As I am listining to Heather make a point about the curiosity about what it feels like to die, I see David produce his shark.  I hate that effing shark.  He has a beer coozy (sp?) shaped like a shark, complete with a fin.  He uses it to ice me in our running quarters game.  Like a coach calling a time out before a big kick.   It has a pychological effect on me and it completly throws me off my game.   I notice it and the smirk that goes along with that damn shark.  A subtle fuck you has been thrown.  A shot across my bow.  I fire back with my usual, hey David which side did you fight on in the Civil War?

The evening heads on and Heather gets a call and has to go.  Too short, but I am glad that she was there.  Anne hangs for another hour or so and she makes her exit.  At this point we are feeling pretty ok, and now it is game on.  I did not want to be rude and abandon my guests and crush poor David in quarters too early, but now...

As a point of reference to this game we have had over the years when I first met Larry and David we were at a place called Coyotes.  It was a little dive bar with horrible service, but it had a great atmosphere.  The girl I was seeing at the time introduced me to them then ran off to go chat with somebody leaving me with the two of them.  I paid for a round of drinks which at that time consisted of a pitcher of beer and some shots.  I had a quarter sitting on the table from the change and I bounced it a couple of times just in fun.  David took the quarter and shot it, cold, over the pitcher into my shot glass.  Impressive.  Not to be out done I grabbed the quarter and fired my shot, cold, over the pitcher into his shot glass.  A spontanious game broke out right then and there, and has continued until this day.

When I bought the table I have today, I took a quarter with me and I tested each table I looked at.  I bought a table for the single purpose of this quarters game.  Asthetics be damed.  Priorities people.  Priorities.

I nestled into my usual spot at my table and David is watching me with that damn shark.  All the times we have played it usually ends up with the home team winning, but only slightly.  I am proud to report that the home team routed the evil empire that is David and that damn shark.  It was completly one sided.  For those wondering how you keep score in quarters.  It is based off the number of consecutive shots made, rules made, and beers forced to consume.  I dominated from start to finish.  Everybody needs a talent.  I guess I know mine. 

Props to Larry, I am pretty sure he was ready to go about an hour and half before I crushed David.  I don't understand morning people.  They were a joy to be around and I thank everyone for being here.  Unfortunatly it ended too quickly, but I am a person that once I get rolling I don't want it to end.  Couple that with the fact that I don't sleep much and there is usually a late night just waiting to jump out at me.  They say their good byes.  And I sit down to a drink contemplating heading out and catching last call somewhere, realize that would be a bad idea, and in the rum haze I start thinking too much...

Dark energy never advances, instead mimics insight so suductively yearning overshadows understanding. 

Thanks to everybody once again.  I really enjoy you and your company. 

Next will be Anaya, Arizona and Rhett, Ed and Travis. 

Me

12:19 PM - 5 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

Conchita Chuleta Chancleta

First of let me start this of with saying I apoloize to my spanish speaking brothers and sisters.  I certainly don't mean to butcher, make light of, or insult in any way the language you probably love and embrace.  For those in the know, and you know who you are, keep doing what you are doing. 

This weekend was a bit of a difficult one for me.  Not that I was under a tremendous amount of pressure.  I had actually taken Thursday and Friday off, so I was well rested, devoid of the thoughts of the whip that is work, and eager to enjoy myself.  I had spent the better part of the first half of the weekend in the pool enjoying the occasional adult beverage and over all was feeling pretty good.  Well, truth be told I was feeling better then good, I felt pretty empowered.  Things were firing on all cylinders and it looked like, and pardon the plagirism, I had found the puzzle piece behind the couch that completed the sky.

The day is Saturday and I am sitting in my hovel nursing a bit of a hangover sitting in my favorite outfit of an old T-shirt and my running pants.  My hair is the style of the sleep induced, bedhead mohawk, unkempt and quit sexy, and I am crowding around my computer screen to watch something, anything.  The news has been read too many times and it is depressing.  My finger is way too sore from going to myspace and hitting the home icon over and over and over again, hoping for another survey to pop up or my breasts are named happy and perky drivel sight that I might be able to click on and complete so I can fit into a nice tiny box too.  Who has time for that?  Oh yeah I do, more on that later.  I check my e-mail for the tenth time, and begin running through my litany of favorite websights when low and behold I discover that today is the day that the Pro Football Hall of Fame enshrinement ceremony is going on. 

I love football.  It is pretty much unnatural how much I love football.  I have lost relationships over football.  I mean really they were not that cool anyway, who would not want to wake up to a dude painted in blue, firing off an airhorn at eight in the morning screaming woo hoo and waving a foam finger at anything that moves?   I have more knowledge about football then I do just about anything else.  I can write ten pages on the flex defense or why the singleback formation with a double tight end set has to be wave of the future since it is one of the best counters to the 3-4. 

I digress. 

There is one team in particular that makes my heart pump, the Dallas Cowboys.  As a matter of fact I bleed silver and blue when I am pricked.  I am pretty sure that when I was in utero you could make out the faint outline of a Cowboys pennant in my tiny fist (sorry Ma, that had to suck.)  Needless to say my football pants start to fly around the room because this is the unofficial start of the football season and there are TWO Cowboys going in the Hall.  This is unheard of, and stupendious news. 

I check the clock.  Coverage starts at noon and that is in four minutes.  Since I don't own a TV this means I have to go out in public.  I do quick inventory of myself, while calculating the speed it is going to take to me to get to the local dive to watch, and realize that I am in no shape to be out in public.  I try to justify that I can throw on a hat and my house shoes and glare at people who give me a wide berth.  No good I smell and I need a shower.  Normally I would not really care what other people think, but for some reason it stopped me dead in my tracks.  Dilemma.  I sprint back to my computer hoping without hope that there will be live coverage, and click the Cowboys homesight.  Sure enough!  There it is!  It is probably a good thing that I live alone so nobody had to witness the happy dance.  I give a quick prayer of thanks to the giant turtle that created and sustains the universe, and to Thor and Zeus for good measure, and click the button. 

Streaming in glorious pixilated color, and warbling sound is the coverage.  I can hardly contain myself, what luck!  Karma did not kick me in the nuts today.  I grab a drink, nestle in my chair and prepair for what is going to be a long few hours. 

Harry Carson is up first.  Hate him.  He played for the Giants and spent many years jumping on my quarterbacks head, still it is football and he was a great player so I sit patiently.  Not a bad speech, a little preachy with a whole lot of finger wagging at the NFL.  Blasphemy.  Ingrate.  Still he made some valid points I will give him that. 

Next is Rayfield Wright.  This was what I was waiting for.  An old school Cowboy from the 70's.  Rock.   I remember being a small child, probably five or six, sitting at my Grandmothers knee and watching him play and protect my quarterback.  He is a massive human being and sans the salt and pepper hair he looked like he could still play.  He came out of the gate fired up and with a voice like thunder enthralled the crowd, and me, and seemed to control the scene like a master orator.  He started naming names and giving thanks to everybody in his life that had helped him get to this point, and made him into what he was and is today. 

Then something odd happened.  I felt something thump against my chest.  Then again.  I looked down, confused for sure, and realized my face had sprung a leak.  What the hell was this?  I might have to go see a doctor because this is not normal.  Surely just by watching an old football player could not have this kind of effect on me.  I am not that big of a freak am I?  I tried to rationilize it but it would not stop.  Something inside of me had broken.  As loud as a train wreck I could hear the snap inside of me. 

I am not that emotional of a person.  Sure the rage is there, although I am working on it, but that is pretty much it.  Except for when it comes to my friends, and the people I care about.  My passsions run extremly hot for those in my life who know me.  If we have shared a joke or smile, or a angry word that later turned out to ok then you are in my heart forever.  Even if only for a passing moment, everyone that I have ever cared about I have cared about intensly and completly.  Even if it was just a spike on a radar.  :-)

The realization that I can do anything has always been evident.  Extreme confidence in myself and my ideals has never been a problem.  I can, with minimal effort, turn any situation to my favor.  Always have and always will but the fact that no man is an island is new to me.  I have always thought it was me against the world, and I got here on my own with no help and no support.  The hard way.  Pulling myself up by my bootstraps and surving against whatever was thrown at me.  I was never alone.

  Yes, we can live alone, yes we can survive as a hermit, yes we can have the beautiful promise of an empty restaurant with another chance to rendezvous with the melancholy.  All that is true and all that is healthy, every person has to be able to stand on their own two feet.  Not be co-dependent on other people or things.  That just makes a person needy and weak.  But, to be think that I got here to this place to this moment in time without help is ludicrous.  Hopefully it was not on the backs of others.  I would rather walk with you then over you.  But, I don't know....

So, as I sat and listened to this icon from my childhood rattle off names and have my mind play a trick on me so I was hearing the names of the people that have been there for me, I began to wonder if I appreciate them enough.  I have been pretty selfish on this journey. 

I am sure we have all had that person in our life that would drop everything in their lives and come running to us if we needed them.  I wonder if we appreciated that in them or if we even recognized it?  Moreover did it give us license to be cruel to them?  Intentionally, subconsciously.  Always expecting them to be there and forgive our transgressions when we did not give the favor back in return?  Or do we turn a blind eye and say they love me and are my friend so they must be there for me even with disregard for their feelings? 

I know that my friends care about me.  I have made some really good friends over the years.  I have no doubts that when I look up for help there will be a dozen or so people there with a hand out to give me a leg up.  My concern is for other people.  My concern is that once we get wrapped in that blanket of selfishness we will keep turning a blind eye.  It can be a very slippery slope from telling people I am taking care of myself to fuck off I don't need you. 

As I heard my childhood hero say my grandmothers name in my minds ear I could not take it anymore.  I had to turn it off.  My phone rang, and it was the person that helped me understand myself the most.  My biggest supporter for everything from fear to joy to rage.  They asked me what was wrong, I am sure my voice sounded great.  I was too embarresed to say the big football player made me sad.  So, like the tough guy that I am, I said nothing, stubbed my toe.  Knowing me, they saw through me, and simply said you have not lost anything.  I agree.  And to them I say thanks for being there, and always putting me first.   I hope to someday return the favor.

Me

8:19 PM - 4 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

House Warming Party II

The best laid plans of mice...

To surround yourself with the people you love, and who love you , is a more prescious then gold or silver.  To let yourself go for a moment and actually trust the people around you is difficult.  As a general rule I don't trust people.  I get paranoid, I get nervous, I start looking for the agenda and the hidden meaning behind words.  As this experiment unfolds I find myself nervous for a myriad of reasons.  I guess it can be boiled down to the root cause of what if nobody comes and therefore I am not cool, and therefore I have been rejected.  Nobody likes the fact that they have been passed over for something or somebody else.  That is especially so when the habit has been formed that everything can and will be dropped to accomodate your friends, especially the ones that mean the most.

That was not the issue last night.  The last get together I was nervous as a person can be that nobody would show.  This week I knew as much as I knew the sun would rise that the people I invited would be here.  Or at least the ones I wanted here.  I was more concerned with the mix of people.  Again I am trying to gather people who have similiar interest but don't really know each that well, throw them in a room, add alcohol and music and watch what happens. 

The players this week included Jeff and Kris, and Heath and Synthia, and Tara. 

Jeff has been a great friend for going on 16 years.  I was the best man at his wedding and we have played in a couple of bands together and I trust him like I trust my brother, if not more.  I have no fear with Jeff, he is a calming influence in my world of chaos, when shit goes down I know that he will be a stalewart anchor to latch onto.  Kris, his wife is that calming influence for Jeff. 

Heath and Synthia are the most passionate people I have ever know.  They are volatile and excitable and energetic about everything.  It does not matter if you are having a discussion on what toppings to order on a pizza, they will be intense and passionate about what theirs will be. 

Tara.  Well, I think I will leave that for another day.  It was unfortunate that she could not make it.  Spilt milk.  Not my worry.  I don't suffer.

The corrolation between this control group?  All are well read, well versed, and know what the hell is going on.  Kris is a lawyer and to say she is lawful is the greatest understatement in the world.  This is the law, even if I don't agree with it, that is the way it is.  Jeff and Heath are both extremly well read and know the hidden meanings behind what is going on in the world.  Synthia is a staunch believer in what she knows is right through family and life experiances. 

Anytime there is a group of five or more people there is always a moment of silence about every 23 minutes.  I not sure who counted this, and last night that was my biggest concern.  I am happy to report it only happened once that I can remember, and to be honest it was after a topic change that had to be inforced because we were digressing into football chat and the girls had that glossed over look in their eyes. 

Anyway, Jeff and Kris arrive first with an army of food and drinks.  Totally more then I expected and certainly more then I deserved.  Thanks to Kris everybody could eat.  If it had been left up to me everybody would have eatin pizza rolls and had to be happy about it.  (Although they were a huge hit at 3 in the AM, thanks Syn ;-)

Heath and Synthia show a short time later, as always looking lovely and full of energy.  It is amazing how much drive those two have.  I had left their house a short eight hours earlier, after an intense night of drinks and discussion where I had to sleep it off on their coach.  These two come rolling in like a cool breeze off a tropical ocean.  Me, I have not even found the energy to find my shoes. 

They come bearing gifts, a handle of rum, my kryptonite, and smiles that light up the room.  The alcohol starts to flow, the music is up, and we are under way.  The conversations are light at first, general stuff, hi I am such and such, what do you do?  All poilte and sedate.  This will not fly, I must shake things up just a little bit, (you do not understand the power of the darkside).  After a quick ckeck on everybodies state of mind I turn the topic to the flavor of the day.  Opinons are being fired back and forth and the conversation is good.  Nobody got their feelings hurt, and it seemed an honest exchange where I think everybody walked away from it learning something about the people at the gathering.  All very positive. 

It was nice to see Jeff, back to they way Jeff was in the past.  He was loose and sociable. Hefe!  For those who know him that word says it all.  For those who don't, well it is an expriance that you should have first hand.  A gracious and kind person that puts people at ease.  When my arguments stalled out he was there to pick up the ball and take it to the house.  As I explained to somebody I know Jeff well enough that a sudden twitch is enough of a signal to get it going in the right direction.  The way I put it last night was when Jeff and I would play ball together and he would be running down the field I could tell when he was going to make his cut by the subtle turn of his foot.  It becomes second nature.  It fits. 

Heath and I have a very similiar relationship.  We have, and did last night, and will again soon, had the most intense conversations by saying one word.  Sometimes it is just a raised eyebrow.  Not to say that we do not have great conversations, we do, but there is something really cool about not having to say a word and know that the other person gets it.  There are not a lot of surpises when it comes to me and Heath, and to be honest it might put people off a bit.  Not my concern. 

So the evening flows into night and time is flying.  Poor Kris, she was a trooper but she suffers from migranes and the meds she was on made her loopy and numb.  Still she could muster enough lawyer power to make her arguments heft with weight but she was there for a short time, or so it seemed.  She really hung in there though and it was fun talking with her again. 

Jeff takes Kris home and we get down to the business of the evening.  Mille Bornes.  I love this freaking game.  It it a French card game where you race other people in your imaginary Le Car while throwing hazards, like flat tires, and accidents to slow your opponents.  To undestand this game you have to do certain things.  It is manditory.  You have to smoke, look smug, and completly butcher the French words on the cards.  If you are hardcore I would suggest you skip bathing that day and tell everyone at everytime that life is shit and we are just meant to suffer.  Gods I love the French. 

Synthia fell in love with this game the first time she played it and was determined to conquer it.  Me being relatively smart person I decided to hitch my star to that wagon.  Alliances were formed trash was talked and the cards are dealt.  It does not take long before my crappy le Car is wrecked, out of gas, sitting on flat tires at a stop light.  If I do get to go, God forbid, I can only go fifty.  Stupid le Car.  I should have taken the bus. Life is shit we are all meant to suffer. 

My neighbors, of course, are cruising at a good rate of 200 mph and laughing at me.  They should change the name of this game to screw you Monte you suck. 

We play a couple of hands and Jeff comes rolling back in.  Alright I've got my teammate.  It is game on!  Now those who know me know that I can make anything into a drinking game.  Even if I am the only one playing the damn drinking game.  This game is no different ( I am sorry liver, you will get a break when you are dead.  Suck it up.)  Well, Synthia and I promptly get trounced.  My bad.  I think I drove 150 miles.  Good times.  Stupid number crunchers.  Another optional idea for this game, is to never put an engineer and an a-hole on the same team.  The engineer will beat you with the numbers and the a-hole will talk trash until you want to stab yourself with the pen that keeps logging their ever rising score.  So we switch things up a little bit.  Jeff and me vs Heath and Syn.  Remember this is my game I have been playing it since I was eight.  Still have the original game from then, the cards are torn and bent and marked in ways that only I understand.  I should have a leg up, home field advantage and all that.  It does not matter.  We give a meak showing at first, but their aggression is too much.  Synthia has figured it out.  This does not bode well for us and she procedes to whip us like she owns us.   At the end Jeff is just staring at me like I stole his last cookie.  I am dumbfounded.  What happened?  I am still not sure.  It was fast and painful.  I think we should test them for doping agents.  Stupid le Car.  Life is SHIT. 

Jeff makes a quick exit after that, as it is pushing into 1 in the morn, way past his bedtime.  We reconvine in the living room where the talks become more personal and introspective.  I don't think we solved the problems in the Middle East, but I am sure we did get to know each other pretty well.  A growth happened.  Two people I have found a ton of support from as of late moved up a notch in my book.  I am proud to call them my friends and to tell them that I love them.  They are very important to me and they will want for nothing as long as I know them. 

Next week Larry and David, Anne and Rube, and Heather.  They were supposed to be last week but Anne's niece came a little early.  Congrates to her. 

Me

10:13 AM - 3 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

Karma

Man I have tried to be good.  I really have.  For me it is a difficult thing.  I see people in the sand box not playng nice and I try not to throw things and tell them to stop.  I let them do what they want, what business is it of mine if they want to lead self destructive, self loathing lives.  Sure I want to chase them with my car, force myself into the role of the life guard of the gene pool, but the point is I don't.  I live and let live.  Moreover, I have been trying to be extra nice to my common man as of late because I believe in Karma.  Now there are plenty of "cosmic definitions" of karma.  I am not here to debate that.  I prefer the simple, dumbed down version that is easy to understand: Do good things, good things happen to you, do bad things and bad things happen to you.  Simple and to the point.  Easy enough that they could make a TV show about it.  ("don't you judge me").  Easy enough for even me to understand. 

So, I have been trying really, really hard to be good, and again, it makes me fight my natural instincts.  What does karma do for me and my new turned vision of the truth?  It gives me a shit sandwich, thats what.  I hold the door for other people, my car dies.  I don't cuss around other peoples children in public, I get a flat tire.  I help an old lady with her groceries  and somebody hits and runs me in the middle of the night.  Do you see what I am trying to get at here?  Karma hates my car!  I am not sure what my car has done to karma, but enough is enough all ready.  Perhaps it is time for a sacrifice?  A cleansing ritual to chase off the evil sprits.  I know Puerto Ricans, and they know Santaria and I am not afraid to use them.  Where am I going to get a live chicken though?  I don't even think I have ever seen a real chicken unless it was in a bucket and fried, and believe me some of the places I eat I am not even sure it was chicken, you just kinda cross fingers, pinch your nose, and hope. 

Perhaps it is a warning from karma?  A cosmic yellow card to get my shit together or else it is going to brake my legs instead of give me a flat tire.  Surely karma is not vengeful and sadistic like that though, or maybe I have just been a little bad.  Or maybe it is making up for all the crap I have done in the past.  In which case I might want to pack a bag, grab a ticket on the Hindenburg, kick a black cat across my path, break a few mirrors, and start praying to Jesus again.  If that is the case it is going to be a bumpy road. 

We have all made bad decisions in this road in life and sometimes those decisions have hurt people.  I am not perfect, I accept that and there are things I would like a do over about, but karma never got in the way before.  So why now?  Why suddenly am I feeling the sting of the cosmic heavy weight know as karma?  Regret?  Self fulfilling prophacy of doom and destruction?  Realization that my actions actually have an effect on those around me?  Probably all of the above.  In my first installment I came to grips with the fact that I am a selfish person.  It is evident in my signiture of ME.  With suddenly clearity I now have come to realize that I can actually hurt people.  Simple fact of life right?  Perhaps that lesson was explained to others at a very early age and even then I did not get it.  In our me me me driven world where everyone and everything must grab the spotlight and let it shine on them so they can be such a unique and different creature, and get their fifteen minutes of fame, it is easy to forget the simple facts of life.  I guess I have fallen for that trap myself.  I have helped to sow the fabric of this fucked up society as sure as everybody else, and now I stand on the precipice of self awareness and wonder if I should strike the match and let it burn up or continue to help create this blanket of shit?  It would be easier for sure to turn a blind eye and say it wasn't me.  For sure, it would be easier. 

Perhaps stripping myself of the my ever present, self defense force field of rage would help.  It is a sham anyway, a false face to hide the fact that I don't want to be responsible for my actions.  A self defense mechanism that has become who I really am.  If you tell yourself enough times that it does not matter and nothing can hurt me, eventually you believe it.  Right?  To be an actual good person is a lot of work and I sure that people treat you like a sucker most of time, but it might be worth it.  Maybe.  Not just for the fact that karma will stop treating you like a bitch but to help people along this road and actually do something for somebody else.  The self protecting walls we create are important, I can get that, but sometimes in order to protect ourselves we build the walls a little too thick and then suddenly they become a prison.  

 What is the nicest thing you have ever done?  Was it forgiving the person that hurt you the most?  Was it passing out turkeys to less fortunate people on Thanksgiving?  For me it was simple.  I was coming home from a Henry Rollins spoken word show.  It was late, it was cold, and it was raining like Noah should be gathering animals and I was riding shotgun in a comfortable car.  We rolled up to a stop light and I saw a couple huddled together, waiting for a bus.  I looked at them, they looked at me, and  something came over me.  I don't know how long it had been since I felt compassion, but it was overwhelming, and a bit unfamiliar.  I rolled the window down grabbed the umbrella sitting in the floorboard, unused, and handed it to them.  Never said a word.  Didn't have to, it was enough, and their expression said it all.  The light turned green and we were on our way again.  I will never see those people again, and to be honest with you I could not pick them out of a line up, but I know for a brief moment in time I helped somebody.  So, I ask again, for inspiration, for the purpose of learning, what is the nicest thing you have ever done?

Monte

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