I have to admit I am truly amazed at just how many signs there are in life for guidance. A one time proprietor of a steadfast belief in coincidence only; I now strive for an open minded approach to bettering this life of mine and those who would be affected by it.
There are many reasons for my changeover from the dark side but in the interest of time, and the fear of the chirping crickets, I will leave them for another discussion.
Now I'm sure many would argue that signs are seen only by the weak and needy and I can appreciate the doubt because I've been there. What I now believe doubters fail to realize is, whether needy or perfectly content, it's all about having an open mind to change that allows you to interpret life's littlest of clues/signs and apply them to your every day existence.
No one is exempt from the need of a positive tweak every now and then, or in my case, a positive maneuver of dual nipple tweakage.
Now, for those of us who are not just floating around aimless like and riding the caboose of the clueless going "Huh?", there is a debate going on involving the "Signs/coincidence" phenomenon.
Some of us believe they are sent from a higher power ‘SIGNS’ and some of us just believe in the odds induced accidental happenings, or ‘COINCIDENCE’.
I'm not going to go into great detail about whether or not you should believe the either or, because who am I. What I am going to write about is one example of how my own overwhelming desire to change has somehow allowed these life altering instances/signs to make a believer out of me and to guide the once misguided.
I loved the movie "The Family Man" with Nicholas Cage. In that movie his character was given a glimpse into what life would have or could have been like had certain events not taken place, ‘A glimpse’.
I believe some dreams and nightmares we have are a glimpse into what could be or should be; a sign so to speak. Now I'm not talking of the dreams where you're playing first base on a team made up of serial killers and when it's your turn to bat, at the moment you hit the ball, POOF you end up on a plain to Australia with the Muppets who are skydiving to save mentally retarded humpback whales. I'm talking of the dreams that are too real and painfully hit home.
The other night I had a nightmare that left me feeling alone and heavy hearted. I could swear there were also pains in my chest. In a nut shell, my 3 year old son disappeared.
Now before I go into detail about my dream let me tell you a little about DJ. He was the happiest baby and right up to about the time he was 18 months I myself shared in his joy and showed none of the overly nervous daddy blunders that I displayed ever so often with my now nine year old daughter.
DJ walked early and had fantastic fine motor skills. He even started his gibberish early and when I say it was non stop, I mean it was non stop! Then long about the time he should have started putting actual words together he kept on producing gibberish. We paid it no mind for he was in fact, a boy.
He was also very meticulous about things, like lining up his toys, a physical learner as well. He would set things on the kitchen table in a perfect pattern and then circle the table checking them out from every angle, adjust a little, then circle some more. We noticed this intense scrutiny was also displayed with people he had not met before. Again we thought nothing of it.
All we knew was he was giving us hours upon hours of enjoyment. I used to joke with people about how I thought he didn't even need us around, he entertained himself!
Then came the shot heard round the world. I got a call one day from a concerned family member who wondered if maybe we should have DJ tested for autism. Autism? Really? I immediately went on the defensive and spouted many reasons to this person why he wasn't autistic but at the same time I was now aware there were a few things that he did that could possibly lead me to believe maybe he was. And so the roller coaster of emotions began.
Over the next few turbulent months we decided to have DJ enrolled in a program called infants and toddlers. Two ladies would make biweekly trips to his daycare and they would help him along with his speech and social development.
I was comforted in the fact that they felt it necessary to only see him once every two weeks. Little by little DJ made improvements over the next year and slowly but surely we started to feel like he was becoming more connected socially through eye contact and speech. Though he still would not answer questions very well we could see he was obviously extremely smart.
If there was to be a problem found in all of this, it was me! I was becoming disconnected with every little set back or what I perceived as a set back with DJ's social growth. The once explosive bond only a father and son could share was now tormented with complexity and waves of agitation. I started to get impatient with him. Suddenly playtime with DJ became a therapy session with my ever watchful rolling eyes tearing him down with scrutiny.
Don't get me wrong, I love this child dearly as I always have. It’s just that I now had to cope with the collision of demons from my past and my own misguided parental instincts.
Furthermore I was showing anger at the most simplest of things. Natural occurrences like DJ getting a cold found a way to set new low standards with my tolerance. The all night cough, always frustrating for any parent, was now setting me off more than ever. With that, my wife found it necessary to jump from the bed long before I could, probably out of fear that I would show anger and resentment towards DJ and make matters worse by confusing him.
Can you imagine, allowing the confusion to blossom and paddling the shallow waters to a point where you feel anger and embarrassment towards your own son? He wasn't even allowed to get sick without me thinking it had something to do him being not normal.
DAMN THEM FOR ROBBING ME OF RAISING A NORMAL SON!
I even began talking about him to my wife as if he wasn't my own, referring to him time and time again as "That kid". This was a phrase all too familiar to an adult escaping the haze of a tumultuous childhood. Yet somehow breaking from all that you've ever known becomes life's purpose and a long road less traveled is a dangerous path for the weak.
It pains me to admit to this but once in a while during a trying time of confusion and anger I would stoop so low as to refer to my son as a "Goof". I now believe I was depersonalizing him and distancing myself from him as a defense mechanism to keep me free from blame, guilt and unfortunately shame. Three words, building blocks of my own childhood that I somehow allowed back into my life to invade the sanctity of my own family.
All I knew was I wanted a normal son! What’s sad is, he probably was and is normal and I was shutting off my half of his learning by acting selfishly. What's even sadder still is this was the perfect time for me, as a parent, to dig my heels in and drive back whatever demons I kept alive from my youth and provide my son with the love and nurturing he deserved. My own insecurities were standing in the way and I was failing this child when he needed me most.
Having said all that, it’s been almost two years since all of this started and DJ is now going to be four on December 7th. He exhibits no signs of Autism. What we have come to surmise is that DJ was or is slightly delayed, either verbally or socially. Ever talk to an Astrophysicist? Maybe that's where DJ is headed. Who knows? Progress is constantly being made though and there are no signs of any regressive behavior.
So, without further adieu, I would now like to tell you of my dream/nightmare.
My wife Kim had gone to take care of a few things and while she was out, my daughter Abby, DJ, and I decided to head off to a few stores to kill some time. After about an hour and a half we got the motherly check in call.
During the conversation that included the questions "What are you doing?” and "Do you guys miss me?” Kim said eight words that have been burned into my brain forever; she said "What's up with DJ?, I don't hear him".
With that a heaviness began to pour over me. My pulse started to race, providing my heart with enough pressure to thump audibly straight up into my throat. I felt that horrifying warmth surrounding my face as my thoughts screamed- PLEASE GOD NO! I turned to Abby in the back seat and said "WHERE IS DJ"? With a furled brow she whimpered to me "Daddy, I don't know"; her bottom lip quivering.
"What's wrong"? Kim said. All I could think was "Where is my son"? But all I could say was "NO NO PLEASE NO" over and over again. I shot my head from left to right and back again seeing nothing but a blur through the tears of horror now flowing.
"Gary, what's wrong?” again pierced my left ear as Kim was now being hit with my distress. With these next six words I stole every bit of life straight from my wife's soul- "I DON'T KNOW WHERE HE IS"!
That was the last I remember of talking to Kim as Abby and I jumped from the car and began searching every store we had been in, with no luck. Person after person answered my desperate plea of "HAVE YOU SEEN MY SON?” with medial frowns and half hearted replies of "No, I'm sorry".
What's even worse is I was trying desperately to pull just one memory of DJ even being with us that afternoon, and I was failing. That's the emptiness only a dream can actualize. Seeing the path in front of us now extending to unreachable lengths, we started for the car.
We now had to begin the painful back track in the hopes that DJ would be waiting for us safely, somewhere! I was having trouble at this point fighting off the cold visions of my son being out there all alone and frightened, confused by the unfamiliar faces and surroundings. WHY COULDN'T I REMEMBER HIM BEING WITH US?
How could I abandon him like this? Now, passing thoughts of never finding him were slicing through my head like January winds and the only possibility of reachable comfort was the sacrificial outcry of- TAKE ME, NOT HIM!
With Abby in the back seat now void of color and staring motionless out her window, we shot down the parking garage ramp to the exit. All I could think was this is pure evil at work for I was now having to squint to fight back horrific images of what may have happened to my little boy.
Then, as if placed by the Devil himself, car upon Car began backing up in front of us, hindering our progress and causing me to scream OH PLEASE, PLEASE, NO PLEASE! I NEED TO FIND HIM!
Finally nearing the exit of the garage I yelled "Deeeeeeeee Jaaaaaaaaa" in one last ditch effort. Then, just as we were passing the pay booth, I glanced to the left and saw what I hoped was a child standing up from a green park bench to look my way.
The figure, approximately seventy five feet from the car, said words so clear, it's as if they were standing just outside my window, I heard, "That's my daddy!" I threw the car into park and shot from the front seat with the sole purpose of absorbing my son into my chest never to be released from my protection again.
When I picked him up I could not squeeze and kiss him enough to show even an inkling of the remorse my shoulders were carrying. Then, with the endearing quality of calm confidence, he said six more words that will forever be carved into me; this time to my soul's law. He said, "What took you so long, daddy"?
Sign or Coincidence?
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
One for all ages
I did something recently that I haven't done in a very long time. Call it laziness, call it maturation, or call it what you will but this lapse in good judgment has proven costly to me.
I can tell you this though, with what I have just finished, I believe I've set things straight. I think what I have done here will set the standard, for many adults in need, for a long time to come. What I did was, I composed a list letter to Santa Clause. Yep, I dug deep and sent a letter to the big man himself.
No, I'm not a religious man, as I have said many times, but like most folks, when presented with a challenge and in times of great need, I ask for help, and I usually look up when doing so. Well you know what?... I don't want to look up any more. From now on I'm going to look north!
The way I see it, prayers get answered maybe once in a lifetime but Santa, that's a once a year deal.
My letter which was mailed this Tuesday past reads as follows:
Dear Santa,
Hi, it's me Gary. How's the Mrs? Doing well I trust? How about you? Are you keeping yourself out of trouble and out of that Gentleman's Club? Speaking of which, Desirae Lay asks about you from time to time.
Me?, I'm doing pretty good. Kids are well, wife is great, blah blah blah. Alright look, enough of the pleasantries, lets get to the real reason for my correspondence.
Santa, I need a couple of things and I need them fast! Now I know it's been about 30 years since my last letter but I'm desperate. I have a list for you this year like no other. It does contain some intangibles but if anyone can make it happen, you can.
See, I have made some fantastic changes in my life in the past two years, thanks to a friend of a friend, but there are a few hiccups left, bumps in the road, pimples on the ass, turds in the punch bowl that I would like to take care of. Clearing these minor blemishes, I believe, would help me put the finishing touches on my metamorphosis.
If you could see to it that my list of requests could be gifted, I think the world would be a much more pleasant place to live. Santa, I know this list is early, it's just that I can't stress enough how important these things are to me. Thank you very much my friend, good night, god bless. Happy Holidays.
Gary
Here is my list complete with explanation:
Can you please dial back my anger just a bit?-Anger gives birth to irrational behavior and idiotic remarks, does it not? How come I know this but I can't seem to stop it? No joke, the littlest things set me off and it's crazy.
I swear I'm trying real hard though. I tell myself all the time before situations arise to stay cool the next time one does present itself.
This list request is extremely important ya hear! A marriage, some drywall, a few phalanges, a couple of small animals, some unsuspecting tail gaiters, possible prison time and a cardiac organ depend on this one. This ranks #1 on my list. Lives could be at stake here dude, see what you can do.
Could you ease my OCD-I swear to god Santa if I gotta check one more thing before bed at night I might lose it. I just added the circuit box last week, had a spot in my electrical check list to fill.
Sockets, switches, under beds, windows, doors, in closets, storage rooms and the furnace room. When is it gonna end? I'm about one item check away from having to do the Macarena in my foyer before turning in for the night.
Furthermore I'm quite certain my neighbors don't want me checking shit out in THEIR bedrooms at two in the morning because I've run out of stuff to check here in my OWN home, so please!
This ranks #2 on my list. My sanity and my freedom from incarceration for breaking and entering is at stake. See what you can do.
OK, So that is gonna take care of the really deep personal stuff for now. The rest of the things on my list are things throughout the year I took notice of or just had thoughts about; they are things that I love, am interested in, completely hate, or would just like to see changed or implemented if you will.
For instance:
-In my lifetime I would like to see at least one Bushman of the Kalahari make Anchor-man.
-Perhaps an entire NBA team made up of Cameroonian Pygmies?
-Santa there are a few people in my work life I would like to see swallowed whole by an anaconda.
-And will you have my love handles return home to my lats please?
-Do you think you could inform Carrot Top that the muscles did not help?
-How about a brain for these idiot morons you hear about who keep large wild animals as their house pets. How come they're always surprised when they find out the animal strolled over to Stanly and Jeanette's house during the Wheel of Fortune and tore them a couple of new asses.
-I would like to be fluent with the movements of the forbidden dance.
-If I never have the heart stopping shock of sitting on a cold damp seat less toilet again I'll be happy.
-Would you please have God put in a call to the Chick-fil-A people to tell them that it's ok to be open on Sundays.
-Keep this one on the down-low Santa. I would really love a pair of those ultra revealing tights that the male ballet dancers wear.
-And I'm going to need a mega bulge to go with those tights!
-Here is something I would like to see you do away with; that little slip you have every now and then while walking on the ice. The one where your lead foot shoots forward about 3 or 4 inches only, but afterwards your lower back and groin feel like you've just had the living shit beaten out of you by four Himalayan Yeti with tire irons.
-And I think I need an explanation as to why when people violently sneeze and it's accompanied by a fart, why they don't release a 120 mph shit.
-Could you make it so that every night around nine-thirty my wife has an overwhelming desire to shed all clothing and take me.......no matter where we are.
-And just once, after having a fantastically intimate conversation with someone I've just met at a party, I would like to be able to go into the bathroom, look in the mirror and not find an entire head of spinach in my teeth.
-With winter coming, I'm gonna need you to warm up the hands and feet of my wife. My back muscles can't handle it when I have to arch like a gymnast to avoid her icy touch at three in the morning. And Some nights I have to hold a mirror under her nose cuz I think she might actually be dead.
-This is not a gift request it's just a passing thought I had: Don't trapeze artists do the funniest walk ever when they are leaving the safety net.
-Three words Santa........Unbreakable dental floss!!! Why does it feel so horrible when a little piece gets stuck between two molars?
-I don't know about you but I could do without the whole Clown/Mime thing. Fuckers just flat out give me the creeps!
-CAN WE STOP THE PERIODICALLY HORRIFYING NEWS STORIES AT SIX PM SANTA! I'm eating dinner with my children and I have to hear that Jonathon Richard Goodguy stabbed his ninety-eight year old mother six thousand times with the black pickup stick???!!! Great!!!
I'm now to understand that this was done in an attempt to perforate her so that when he pulled her skin off to make a birthday present for his ninety-four year old step dad, the one who used to beat him with road kill, that he could laugh at the ripping sound??? Nice!!!
That kind of a story doesn't sit well with a nine year old, three year old, grilled chicken, and mac-n-cheese, you know!
Besides, that story is always sandwiched between two tongue in cheek feel goods like; Snuffles the dog who saved three gay squirrels that fell through the ice while gathering winter sustenance AND Bob Turk giving a thirteen salute to Ethel the one hundred and four year old halfway house pianist who teaches old testament hymns to over weight limbless seniors who are catatonically frozen with their mouths open. Absolutely no need to watch the news at dinner time!
-And for goodness sake can you get some teeth for these creatures interviewed on the news at the crime scenes who just happen to witness.......EVERYTHING! I swear to god one guy had only one tooth and it was one of the wisdoms. Now how is he chewing?
-I would really appreciate it, if everything that was healthy for me didn't have to taste like ass.
-Speaking of ass.....Any way to lessen the intensity of my children's toots?
-Could you please open a few more registers at the Walmart checkout please! I'm not in line for concert tickets for Christ's sake!
-AND CAN I GET A GOD DAMN SHOPPING CART THAT DOESN'T WOBBLE!!!???
Well there you have it. I have lots more Christmas wishes where those came from but at the moment these are the ones I felt most strongly about. Furthermore I don't want to appear greedy. (or nuts!) My best to the Mrs and the little shits.
Gary
I can tell you this though, with what I have just finished, I believe I've set things straight. I think what I have done here will set the standard, for many adults in need, for a long time to come. What I did was, I composed a list letter to Santa Clause. Yep, I dug deep and sent a letter to the big man himself.
No, I'm not a religious man, as I have said many times, but like most folks, when presented with a challenge and in times of great need, I ask for help, and I usually look up when doing so. Well you know what?... I don't want to look up any more. From now on I'm going to look north!
The way I see it, prayers get answered maybe once in a lifetime but Santa, that's a once a year deal.
My letter which was mailed this Tuesday past reads as follows:
Dear Santa,
Hi, it's me Gary. How's the Mrs? Doing well I trust? How about you? Are you keeping yourself out of trouble and out of that Gentleman's Club? Speaking of which, Desirae Lay asks about you from time to time.
Me?, I'm doing pretty good. Kids are well, wife is great, blah blah blah. Alright look, enough of the pleasantries, lets get to the real reason for my correspondence.
Santa, I need a couple of things and I need them fast! Now I know it's been about 30 years since my last letter but I'm desperate. I have a list for you this year like no other. It does contain some intangibles but if anyone can make it happen, you can.
See, I have made some fantastic changes in my life in the past two years, thanks to a friend of a friend, but there are a few hiccups left, bumps in the road, pimples on the ass, turds in the punch bowl that I would like to take care of. Clearing these minor blemishes, I believe, would help me put the finishing touches on my metamorphosis.
If you could see to it that my list of requests could be gifted, I think the world would be a much more pleasant place to live. Santa, I know this list is early, it's just that I can't stress enough how important these things are to me. Thank you very much my friend, good night, god bless. Happy Holidays.
Gary
Here is my list complete with explanation:
Can you please dial back my anger just a bit?-Anger gives birth to irrational behavior and idiotic remarks, does it not? How come I know this but I can't seem to stop it? No joke, the littlest things set me off and it's crazy.
I swear I'm trying real hard though. I tell myself all the time before situations arise to stay cool the next time one does present itself.
This list request is extremely important ya hear! A marriage, some drywall, a few phalanges, a couple of small animals, some unsuspecting tail gaiters, possible prison time and a cardiac organ depend on this one. This ranks #1 on my list. Lives could be at stake here dude, see what you can do.
Could you ease my OCD-I swear to god Santa if I gotta check one more thing before bed at night I might lose it. I just added the circuit box last week, had a spot in my electrical check list to fill.
Sockets, switches, under beds, windows, doors, in closets, storage rooms and the furnace room. When is it gonna end? I'm about one item check away from having to do the Macarena in my foyer before turning in for the night.
Furthermore I'm quite certain my neighbors don't want me checking shit out in THEIR bedrooms at two in the morning because I've run out of stuff to check here in my OWN home, so please!
This ranks #2 on my list. My sanity and my freedom from incarceration for breaking and entering is at stake. See what you can do.
OK, So that is gonna take care of the really deep personal stuff for now. The rest of the things on my list are things throughout the year I took notice of or just had thoughts about; they are things that I love, am interested in, completely hate, or would just like to see changed or implemented if you will.
For instance:
-In my lifetime I would like to see at least one Bushman of the Kalahari make Anchor-man.
-Perhaps an entire NBA team made up of Cameroonian Pygmies?
-Santa there are a few people in my work life I would like to see swallowed whole by an anaconda.
-And will you have my love handles return home to my lats please?
-Do you think you could inform Carrot Top that the muscles did not help?
-How about a brain for these idiot morons you hear about who keep large wild animals as their house pets. How come they're always surprised when they find out the animal strolled over to Stanly and Jeanette's house during the Wheel of Fortune and tore them a couple of new asses.
-I would like to be fluent with the movements of the forbidden dance.
-If I never have the heart stopping shock of sitting on a cold damp seat less toilet again I'll be happy.
-Would you please have God put in a call to the Chick-fil-A people to tell them that it's ok to be open on Sundays.
-Keep this one on the down-low Santa. I would really love a pair of those ultra revealing tights that the male ballet dancers wear.
-And I'm going to need a mega bulge to go with those tights!
-Here is something I would like to see you do away with; that little slip you have every now and then while walking on the ice. The one where your lead foot shoots forward about 3 or 4 inches only, but afterwards your lower back and groin feel like you've just had the living shit beaten out of you by four Himalayan Yeti with tire irons.
-And I think I need an explanation as to why when people violently sneeze and it's accompanied by a fart, why they don't release a 120 mph shit.
-Could you make it so that every night around nine-thirty my wife has an overwhelming desire to shed all clothing and take me.......no matter where we are.
-And just once, after having a fantastically intimate conversation with someone I've just met at a party, I would like to be able to go into the bathroom, look in the mirror and not find an entire head of spinach in my teeth.
-With winter coming, I'm gonna need you to warm up the hands and feet of my wife. My back muscles can't handle it when I have to arch like a gymnast to avoid her icy touch at three in the morning. And Some nights I have to hold a mirror under her nose cuz I think she might actually be dead.
-This is not a gift request it's just a passing thought I had: Don't trapeze artists do the funniest walk ever when they are leaving the safety net.
-Three words Santa........Unbreakable dental floss!!! Why does it feel so horrible when a little piece gets stuck between two molars?
-I don't know about you but I could do without the whole Clown/Mime thing. Fuckers just flat out give me the creeps!
-CAN WE STOP THE PERIODICALLY HORRIFYING NEWS STORIES AT SIX PM SANTA! I'm eating dinner with my children and I have to hear that Jonathon Richard Goodguy stabbed his ninety-eight year old mother six thousand times with the black pickup stick???!!! Great!!!
I'm now to understand that this was done in an attempt to perforate her so that when he pulled her skin off to make a birthday present for his ninety-four year old step dad, the one who used to beat him with road kill, that he could laugh at the ripping sound??? Nice!!!
That kind of a story doesn't sit well with a nine year old, three year old, grilled chicken, and mac-n-cheese, you know!
Besides, that story is always sandwiched between two tongue in cheek feel goods like; Snuffles the dog who saved three gay squirrels that fell through the ice while gathering winter sustenance AND Bob Turk giving a thirteen salute to Ethel the one hundred and four year old halfway house pianist who teaches old testament hymns to over weight limbless seniors who are catatonically frozen with their mouths open. Absolutely no need to watch the news at dinner time!
-And for goodness sake can you get some teeth for these creatures interviewed on the news at the crime scenes who just happen to witness.......EVERYTHING! I swear to god one guy had only one tooth and it was one of the wisdoms. Now how is he chewing?
-I would really appreciate it, if everything that was healthy for me didn't have to taste like ass.
-Speaking of ass.....Any way to lessen the intensity of my children's toots?
-Could you please open a few more registers at the Walmart checkout please! I'm not in line for concert tickets for Christ's sake!
-AND CAN I GET A GOD DAMN SHOPPING CART THAT DOESN'T WOBBLE!!!???
Well there you have it. I have lots more Christmas wishes where those came from but at the moment these are the ones I felt most strongly about. Furthermore I don't want to appear greedy. (or nuts!) My best to the Mrs and the little shits.
Gary
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Come on, it'll make ya feel good!
Oy Vey! The pressure you can put on yourself to come up with something interesting and funny for people to read is exhausting. This is the possible career path I have chosen to chase? My head feels like it's being compressed on all sides as my skull has partnered itself with me in a futile attempt to extract ideas from a brain gone dry, milking it of any and all blogger fodder. Not to mention the residual affects of said exhaustion.
Case in point, this past Thursday alone I almost needed treatment for nausea, depression, IBS, anxiety, dehydration, insomnia, typhoid, chronic fatigue syndrome and Ebola. The Tuesday before that, it was dysentery, hives, the mumps, the plague, color blindness, tampering with evidence, manipulating an imbecile, and possible alcohol poisoning.
This writing crap is taxing. A visit to the emergency room for I.V. nourishment was in fact almost necessary for I do not wish to have my immune system compromised. You see, in these trying times, without lamb's blood, we are all subject to this years onslaught of seasonal, yet monstrous illnesses.
You've caught the news lately right? The way I see it, at any moment a pyramid of dancing influenzas will be doing it's best thriller routine down my street raping and pillaging along the way, spearheaded by the mighty H1N1.
So with this in mind I'm forced to ask myself........Is this new found enjoyment of brain purging worth all the stress, cranial compression and possible flesh ripping, crotch grabbing diseases? YOU'RE DAMN RIGHT IT IS!!!
For the first time in my life I'm letting down my guard and going with the flow. Having an outlet for me to put thoughts to words for others to laugh at, furl brow at and scratch their head at is nothing short of a gift. Sure I could have always put pen to paper but how would all of you have gotten to sample the ramblings of a literary fledgling.
See, I have an addictive personality and anyone who suffers from that knows what a pain in the tookus it can be. You are constantly grabbing for things that you think will fill the void and when you get them, you squeeze every bit of comfort you can from them, sometimes with total disregard for the intense repercussions.
Writing has become my latest addiction and is doing an incredible job as my therapist in white, allowing me to spill my guts with no expectations in return. I can over indulge myself with words and that gives me great pleasure and guess what, I won't end up in the Betty Ford Clinic for this one. Alcohol yes, words no.
Drinking on the other hand has been my on again off again therapist in black. My overly priced couch M.D. who seems a little to preoccupied with payment up front. Shoot, I even pay him on the back end from time to time. It's amazing and awfully strange that I can't just enjoy one drink every now and then for relaxation. NO! I've got to pound the sauce like I'm a frat' pledge on a mission to track down, capture and savor the greatest buzz ever recorded in modern history.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not a raging alcoholic or anything like that. You won't find me whizzing for distance off my deck or launching molotov cocktails at my neighbor's house, I just really look forward to the nine o'clock, kids are in bed, Gary hour with a little to much anticipation. Now I know there are worse problems in the world today but hey, I have to play the cards I'm dealt, right?
Funny thing is, when you have an addictive personality you can latch onto anything for comfort. Alcohol today, food tomorrow, drugs next Thursday.
Ordering a pizza!!!??? Better make it two, I'm not gonna stop until my abdomen is distended beyond lethal epidermis stretch limits and God knows I may never get pizza again! What did you say? You've got a joint and are wondering if I would like a puff? Sure! Hey, by the way, do you know where I could score a hefty bag full of that stuff? I'm gonna need some to get me through the weekend. You see what I'm getting at? For God's sake I can wake up on a Tuesday and wonder what I'm gonna have for dinner next Thursday. No kidding!
So what I'm trying to figure out now is, how I'm going to abuse my writing, stripping it of the joy that it gives to me. Ahh the writing, content is questionable by some, enjoyed by others but that's really not what's important here. What is important is that I now have a new non toxic form of release and the earth is a better, safer place for it, trust me.
Now I just have to tuck the writing away, protect it and run, knowing full well there is a barrage of would be addictions out there waiting to attack with shot glasses, burger wrappers and tobacco products. They will come for me and I know full well they would like nothing more than to make me their bitch.
Oh well, no matter where I'm taken on this journey of maniacally driven literary compositions, I am enjoying myself. Whether it's right here in blogspot purgatory or in a mental hospital/rehab with a laptop and a boyfriend named Skippy who likes to scream at me while checking my head for lice that possess the blueprints that will help him destroy the home of Liza Minnelli, I'm quite comfortable knowing the door has been opened and the earth........................................SHALL BE MINE!!!! WHHOOOOAAAAAHHHHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!............................ Sorry, what I meant to say was.......The door has been opened and the rest is still unwritten??? No that's not it, I think I've heard that somewhere, have you?. I've got it! The door has been opened and let the breeze carry me........how the fuck is the breeze gonna carry me!!!??? Let me try this again. I'm quite comfortable knowing the door has been opened and whether or not I choose to venture out is completely up to me. I got news for ya, I'm dying for a challenging career change......I'm going!
I got more news for ya......I think I just got away with a blog entry that was about how I had absolutely nothing to write about. Oh well, I'm purged I can go to bed.
Case in point, this past Thursday alone I almost needed treatment for nausea, depression, IBS, anxiety, dehydration, insomnia, typhoid, chronic fatigue syndrome and Ebola. The Tuesday before that, it was dysentery, hives, the mumps, the plague, color blindness, tampering with evidence, manipulating an imbecile, and possible alcohol poisoning.
This writing crap is taxing. A visit to the emergency room for I.V. nourishment was in fact almost necessary for I do not wish to have my immune system compromised. You see, in these trying times, without lamb's blood, we are all subject to this years onslaught of seasonal, yet monstrous illnesses.
You've caught the news lately right? The way I see it, at any moment a pyramid of dancing influenzas will be doing it's best thriller routine down my street raping and pillaging along the way, spearheaded by the mighty H1N1.
So with this in mind I'm forced to ask myself........Is this new found enjoyment of brain purging worth all the stress, cranial compression and possible flesh ripping, crotch grabbing diseases? YOU'RE DAMN RIGHT IT IS!!!
For the first time in my life I'm letting down my guard and going with the flow. Having an outlet for me to put thoughts to words for others to laugh at, furl brow at and scratch their head at is nothing short of a gift. Sure I could have always put pen to paper but how would all of you have gotten to sample the ramblings of a literary fledgling.
See, I have an addictive personality and anyone who suffers from that knows what a pain in the tookus it can be. You are constantly grabbing for things that you think will fill the void and when you get them, you squeeze every bit of comfort you can from them, sometimes with total disregard for the intense repercussions.
Writing has become my latest addiction and is doing an incredible job as my therapist in white, allowing me to spill my guts with no expectations in return. I can over indulge myself with words and that gives me great pleasure and guess what, I won't end up in the Betty Ford Clinic for this one. Alcohol yes, words no.
Drinking on the other hand has been my on again off again therapist in black. My overly priced couch M.D. who seems a little to preoccupied with payment up front. Shoot, I even pay him on the back end from time to time. It's amazing and awfully strange that I can't just enjoy one drink every now and then for relaxation. NO! I've got to pound the sauce like I'm a frat' pledge on a mission to track down, capture and savor the greatest buzz ever recorded in modern history.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not a raging alcoholic or anything like that. You won't find me whizzing for distance off my deck or launching molotov cocktails at my neighbor's house, I just really look forward to the nine o'clock, kids are in bed, Gary hour with a little to much anticipation. Now I know there are worse problems in the world today but hey, I have to play the cards I'm dealt, right?
Funny thing is, when you have an addictive personality you can latch onto anything for comfort. Alcohol today, food tomorrow, drugs next Thursday.
Ordering a pizza!!!??? Better make it two, I'm not gonna stop until my abdomen is distended beyond lethal epidermis stretch limits and God knows I may never get pizza again! What did you say? You've got a joint and are wondering if I would like a puff? Sure! Hey, by the way, do you know where I could score a hefty bag full of that stuff? I'm gonna need some to get me through the weekend. You see what I'm getting at? For God's sake I can wake up on a Tuesday and wonder what I'm gonna have for dinner next Thursday. No kidding!
So what I'm trying to figure out now is, how I'm going to abuse my writing, stripping it of the joy that it gives to me. Ahh the writing, content is questionable by some, enjoyed by others but that's really not what's important here. What is important is that I now have a new non toxic form of release and the earth is a better, safer place for it, trust me.
Now I just have to tuck the writing away, protect it and run, knowing full well there is a barrage of would be addictions out there waiting to attack with shot glasses, burger wrappers and tobacco products. They will come for me and I know full well they would like nothing more than to make me their bitch.
Oh well, no matter where I'm taken on this journey of maniacally driven literary compositions, I am enjoying myself. Whether it's right here in blogspot purgatory or in a mental hospital/rehab with a laptop and a boyfriend named Skippy who likes to scream at me while checking my head for lice that possess the blueprints that will help him destroy the home of Liza Minnelli, I'm quite comfortable knowing the door has been opened and the earth........................................SHALL BE MINE!!!! WHHOOOOAAAAAHHHHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!............................ Sorry, what I meant to say was.......The door has been opened and the rest is still unwritten??? No that's not it, I think I've heard that somewhere, have you?. I've got it! The door has been opened and let the breeze carry me........how the fuck is the breeze gonna carry me!!!??? Let me try this again. I'm quite comfortable knowing the door has been opened and whether or not I choose to venture out is completely up to me. I got news for ya, I'm dying for a challenging career change......I'm going!
I got more news for ya......I think I just got away with a blog entry that was about how I had absolutely nothing to write about. Oh well, I'm purged I can go to bed.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Attraction
How sweet
How beautiful
How passionate
I want you now!
How generous
How patient
How forgiving
How warm
Please take me!
How charming
How open
How sexy
How coy
How accessible
I'm yours!
You are fear!
How beautiful
How passionate
I want you now!
How generous
How patient
How forgiving
How warm
Please take me!
How charming
How open
How sexy
How coy
How accessible
I'm yours!
You are fear!
Friday, September 18, 2009
This Path Looks Safe, I Think
Do you ever talk to yourself; I mean really get into a fantastic Q & A, alone? Where do you do it most? Is it in the shower? Is it at work? Maybe it's at school? Perhaps you're a lunatic and it’s in a dark alley or a deserted field, that's ok, things have to get resolved, right? Do you do it while driving? That's my favorite. Maybe you've got a penchant for straight jackets so talking to yourself on a busy subway gets you going.
What a gift it is, to be able to free think, verbalize and hash things out, all on your own; to preside over a beautiful summation and its rebuttal, having never left your own head. Of course every positive in life has to have a negative to balance things out, right? That's not my law, I believe it belongs to Ishkabibble Van Dudenhoffer, or was it Shnootikus Blitzstein?
Anyway, so what is the balancing downside to tinkering with self cross examination? Well, one issue is, ‘over thinking’. I'll admit I’m way guilty of this one. You can give me potential plans for a Friday night and I can conjure up some serious full on night destroying ass-umption.
Take for instance a simple night out for me and the wife. Seriously, its funny how I can painfully pick out clothes to wear, wonder what they’re going to have to eat at the party, complain a bit about the directions, hate the company when we get there, not like any of the food or drink, probably get a stomach ache, certainly hate the music, listen to boring stories, feel guilty for wanting to leave early, start an argument on the way home, suffer through a bowl of cereal to thwart off empty stomach nausea, and then go to sleep in the hopes of not throwing up. All of this done before my wife has even finished telling me where we are going. Over thinking? I’d call it a classic case.
Now what's even scarier than over thinking is what I have found riding on its coat tails, that is, ‘over analyzing’. This monster gives finality to the former, making it twice as dangerous. I'm not guilty of this one too, am I? Well let’s just see.
If I was lucky enough to get a comment about this latest babble I'd probably picture you in my mind, imagine the face you were making while typing your criticisms, decrypt your choice of word structure, take into consideration our latest communication with one another (if any), check the current weather conditions in the Gaza strip, gather up all the thousand leggers in a four block radius, and finally, I’d conceptualize about why I had what I had for dinner that evening.
Then, and only then, could I formulate a less than stellar synopsis of the remarks contributed thereby drawing up the conclusion that you probably didn't think too much of my overly wordy self deprecating autobiographical composition. Nobody is perfect! So I analyze a little, its good for the soul.
Now as if the first two character flaws weren’t enough, there is another. I can't tell you the countless good times missed over the years to this third and most horrid characteristic. This one should probably be listed first though; I'm quite certain over thinking and over analyzing are the bastard children of this debilitating trait. I’m talking about ‘fear’.
Seriously though, what are we afraid of? Is it embarrassment? Is it pain? Might it be failure? Perhaps it's a small group of clergy who lock dance. I don’t know, maybe you are afraid of any and all of the clothing from the 80's. I know to this day I drop to the ground at the site of a knee length Champion sweatshirt and over sized socks.
What about Olympic curling? How about a Deli clerk with six hundred piercings from the neck up? Here's a frightful thought- being chased by six Haitian prostitutes with live chickens. That'll get you every time. Not to mention the large woman with a hair net, visible thong, and a 5 o'clock shadow who is piecing together your Taco Bell order with no gloves on and a scorching case of the ass itches.
Now For me, I’m usually afraid of embarrassment caused by failure. I get it honestly from both parents. My mother is extremely vain and I suffered many a grocery store woopens for embarrassing her. It’s funny though how her wreckin' my backside in public was never as embarrassing as me acting like a normal five year old that desperately needed a Zagnut bar to get through the rigors of the long day ahead. Shoot, I used to receive the leather strap every time dear ole mom couldn't get her ultra teased, hair sprayed, locks to behave properly.
Now there’s dad, he’s a different story. His insecurities are a little trickier and can go pretty deep. So at the risk of ending up on a couch, with a grocery store list of medication needed to function in my daily life, I’ll pass on the lengthy dissertation and simply tell you that he’s not from this planet.
Thinking back, growing up in my house really didn’t do much for my confidence. Therefore it kept me from taking part in activities that should have been allowed to aid in the shaping of the man-child who types before you this day.
Now don’t get me wrong, I love my parents dearly and I would never blame them for my short comings. I will say this though, they set me on a path that’s been more like a dirt road than a freshly paved thoroughfare; somewhat cobblestone-ish, if I’m being totally honest.
I understand that we all have our choices to make on the paths that lead us through life. It just so happens that my path has OVER THINKING, OVER ANALYZING and FEAR; a few stepping stones that may or may not have been laid by the devil himself; or perhaps his servants. (Tongue firmly placed against cheek)
What a gift it is, to be able to free think, verbalize and hash things out, all on your own; to preside over a beautiful summation and its rebuttal, having never left your own head. Of course every positive in life has to have a negative to balance things out, right? That's not my law, I believe it belongs to Ishkabibble Van Dudenhoffer, or was it Shnootikus Blitzstein?
Anyway, so what is the balancing downside to tinkering with self cross examination? Well, one issue is, ‘over thinking’. I'll admit I’m way guilty of this one. You can give me potential plans for a Friday night and I can conjure up some serious full on night destroying ass-umption.
Take for instance a simple night out for me and the wife. Seriously, its funny how I can painfully pick out clothes to wear, wonder what they’re going to have to eat at the party, complain a bit about the directions, hate the company when we get there, not like any of the food or drink, probably get a stomach ache, certainly hate the music, listen to boring stories, feel guilty for wanting to leave early, start an argument on the way home, suffer through a bowl of cereal to thwart off empty stomach nausea, and then go to sleep in the hopes of not throwing up. All of this done before my wife has even finished telling me where we are going. Over thinking? I’d call it a classic case.
Now what's even scarier than over thinking is what I have found riding on its coat tails, that is, ‘over analyzing’. This monster gives finality to the former, making it twice as dangerous. I'm not guilty of this one too, am I? Well let’s just see.
If I was lucky enough to get a comment about this latest babble I'd probably picture you in my mind, imagine the face you were making while typing your criticisms, decrypt your choice of word structure, take into consideration our latest communication with one another (if any), check the current weather conditions in the Gaza strip, gather up all the thousand leggers in a four block radius, and finally, I’d conceptualize about why I had what I had for dinner that evening.
Then, and only then, could I formulate a less than stellar synopsis of the remarks contributed thereby drawing up the conclusion that you probably didn't think too much of my overly wordy self deprecating autobiographical composition. Nobody is perfect! So I analyze a little, its good for the soul.
Now as if the first two character flaws weren’t enough, there is another. I can't tell you the countless good times missed over the years to this third and most horrid characteristic. This one should probably be listed first though; I'm quite certain over thinking and over analyzing are the bastard children of this debilitating trait. I’m talking about ‘fear’.
Seriously though, what are we afraid of? Is it embarrassment? Is it pain? Might it be failure? Perhaps it's a small group of clergy who lock dance. I don’t know, maybe you are afraid of any and all of the clothing from the 80's. I know to this day I drop to the ground at the site of a knee length Champion sweatshirt and over sized socks.
What about Olympic curling? How about a Deli clerk with six hundred piercings from the neck up? Here's a frightful thought- being chased by six Haitian prostitutes with live chickens. That'll get you every time. Not to mention the large woman with a hair net, visible thong, and a 5 o'clock shadow who is piecing together your Taco Bell order with no gloves on and a scorching case of the ass itches.
Now For me, I’m usually afraid of embarrassment caused by failure. I get it honestly from both parents. My mother is extremely vain and I suffered many a grocery store woopens for embarrassing her. It’s funny though how her wreckin' my backside in public was never as embarrassing as me acting like a normal five year old that desperately needed a Zagnut bar to get through the rigors of the long day ahead. Shoot, I used to receive the leather strap every time dear ole mom couldn't get her ultra teased, hair sprayed, locks to behave properly.
Now there’s dad, he’s a different story. His insecurities are a little trickier and can go pretty deep. So at the risk of ending up on a couch, with a grocery store list of medication needed to function in my daily life, I’ll pass on the lengthy dissertation and simply tell you that he’s not from this planet.
Thinking back, growing up in my house really didn’t do much for my confidence. Therefore it kept me from taking part in activities that should have been allowed to aid in the shaping of the man-child who types before you this day.
Now don’t get me wrong, I love my parents dearly and I would never blame them for my short comings. I will say this though, they set me on a path that’s been more like a dirt road than a freshly paved thoroughfare; somewhat cobblestone-ish, if I’m being totally honest.
I understand that we all have our choices to make on the paths that lead us through life. It just so happens that my path has OVER THINKING, OVER ANALYZING and FEAR; a few stepping stones that may or may not have been laid by the devil himself; or perhaps his servants. (Tongue firmly placed against cheek)
Saturday, September 12, 2009
The Enraged Crusader
Anger management, me? I hear that malarkey all the time but I'm not buyin'. Abusive thoughts maybe, I can accept that. Can I help it if when people do stupid things I'm called into action. I feel folks nowadays need a little discipline and mandatory reflection. A wake up call so to speak.
There is nothing wrong with a punishing stare every now and then; an imagined blast to the solar plexus is warranted from time to time; a visualized kick to the groin, knee to the chin, can be the all correcting, don't you think?
Now don't get me wrong I'm not one to glorify violent behavior but I am one who likes to see justice served, karma personified if you will. Lets face it, there are a lot of nimrods buzzing around out there who would not be concerned with others feelings.
Now, being one who likes to seek the positive in a situation, what I like to do when anger does present itself is to act introspectively. What I have found, in doing so, is a switch. It hides in that hostility that emerges from time to time. It really is amazing, amazing to catch yourself right at that moment when rage is born. If you pay close attention you can actually hear a click as that switch is being thrown.
You know that moment; when your larynx gives birth to an idiotic remark, nurtures it, grows it and sends it rolling off your tongue, usually in the direction of a loved one ; when the thought of inflicting pain makes sense ; when a dream of wielding a large blunt object quiets the voices ; when the illusion of tossing someone off an overpass seems logical ; when the idea of purchasing stabbing weapons makes you giggle maniacally. Anyway, you know the moment. We all share it on some level. Some of us just act on it with stronger emotions and with less control.
Let me give an example of my ramblings. Recently I was heading into a CVS and I did something you only read about in books nowadays, I held the door for someone. Big mistake! This arrogant chic strolled right past me with not so much as a head nod of gratitude. Now I don't normally fish for graciousness but COME ON! The kicker was that she continued to make auditory love to her cell phone at volumes unnecessary.
Mercury began rising! I HEARD THE CLICK! What are my options here? Do I forgive? Do I forget? Do I destroy? My processor started flickerin' and clickin' and what I came up with was a low resonating growl accompanied by a, YOU'RE WELCOME! "Oh aaaaa, thank you?" She said. She was surprised, can you believe it? Now I had to follow the unappreciative heathen into the store. It was all I could do not to gather this chick by the belt and collar and launch her head first into the Entenmann's display. Is that wrong? Am I out of line in my thinking?
How about when I let someone into my lane on the highway and they don't show me my thank you wave. Should I not visualize dropping the hammer and ramming them in an attempt to induce a sixty-five mile an hour cartwheel? No you say? Is gnawing ferociously on the steering wheel while doing my best Tickle me Elmo impersonation a bit much? How about wanting to reenact the disembowelment scene from Braveheart on a texting tailgater; is that a little incessant? Next you're gonna tell me that following someone into their neighborhood after they've cut me off is a bad thing. Is it? Lets not even talk about food shoppers who are unnecessarily nasty to cashier clerks. These pompous assholes deserve to be strapped to a shopping cart and sent hurling form the nearest rocky cliff only to plunge some thousand feet down to a fiery pit below. That would be ok, right?
Alright, enough of that........deep breath. What I'm figuring out, when I can silence the terror from within, is that people are generally not very friendly these days and could use a little jolt of reality. (The Deliverer, why not be me!) Besides, this self indulgent egotistical preoccupation with one's gadgets, wealth, and appearance is winning out over genuine concern for one another's well being and its scary. I ask you.......Do I need anger management??? Ok, maybe just a class or two.
A few years ago a progressive chick worked with me and she once said "people are becoming so self involved it's frightening, I'm going to get away from it all soon and my girlfriend and I are going to live in a yurt out west." I didn't think much of it then cuz she was always talking whacked stuff about people and the environment and the end of it all, but a light went on later that day, WHAT THE FUCK IS A YURT???!!! With much thanks to Google I found out It's a "portable, felt-covered, wood lattice-framed dwelling structure traditionally used by nomads in the steppes of Central Asia." Ok! That's gonna go over well three months deep into a harsh winter.
Anyway, that's what I thought then, but now I'm starting to think she might have been right. Just think, getting away from all the mindless gadgetry and the impersonal soullessness that walks the streets today, sounds great?
Nah,my powers are needed here. There are lots of wrong doers out there who need my ever guiding scowl of animosity and my punitive imagination to inject new life into their thoughtless souls. All I need now is a uniform, a commissioner, a signal light and a good lawyer, for I have always been and will always be an admirable councilor of cultivated behavior. Anger management?...........Heh!
There is nothing wrong with a punishing stare every now and then; an imagined blast to the solar plexus is warranted from time to time; a visualized kick to the groin, knee to the chin, can be the all correcting, don't you think?
Now don't get me wrong I'm not one to glorify violent behavior but I am one who likes to see justice served, karma personified if you will. Lets face it, there are a lot of nimrods buzzing around out there who would not be concerned with others feelings.
Now, being one who likes to seek the positive in a situation, what I like to do when anger does present itself is to act introspectively. What I have found, in doing so, is a switch. It hides in that hostility that emerges from time to time. It really is amazing, amazing to catch yourself right at that moment when rage is born. If you pay close attention you can actually hear a click as that switch is being thrown.
You know that moment; when your larynx gives birth to an idiotic remark, nurtures it, grows it and sends it rolling off your tongue, usually in the direction of a loved one ; when the thought of inflicting pain makes sense ; when a dream of wielding a large blunt object quiets the voices ; when the illusion of tossing someone off an overpass seems logical ; when the idea of purchasing stabbing weapons makes you giggle maniacally. Anyway, you know the moment. We all share it on some level. Some of us just act on it with stronger emotions and with less control.
Let me give an example of my ramblings. Recently I was heading into a CVS and I did something you only read about in books nowadays, I held the door for someone. Big mistake! This arrogant chic strolled right past me with not so much as a head nod of gratitude. Now I don't normally fish for graciousness but COME ON! The kicker was that she continued to make auditory love to her cell phone at volumes unnecessary.
Mercury began rising! I HEARD THE CLICK! What are my options here? Do I forgive? Do I forget? Do I destroy? My processor started flickerin' and clickin' and what I came up with was a low resonating growl accompanied by a, YOU'RE WELCOME! "Oh aaaaa, thank you?" She said. She was surprised, can you believe it? Now I had to follow the unappreciative heathen into the store. It was all I could do not to gather this chick by the belt and collar and launch her head first into the Entenmann's display. Is that wrong? Am I out of line in my thinking?
How about when I let someone into my lane on the highway and they don't show me my thank you wave. Should I not visualize dropping the hammer and ramming them in an attempt to induce a sixty-five mile an hour cartwheel? No you say? Is gnawing ferociously on the steering wheel while doing my best Tickle me Elmo impersonation a bit much? How about wanting to reenact the disembowelment scene from Braveheart on a texting tailgater; is that a little incessant? Next you're gonna tell me that following someone into their neighborhood after they've cut me off is a bad thing. Is it? Lets not even talk about food shoppers who are unnecessarily nasty to cashier clerks. These pompous assholes deserve to be strapped to a shopping cart and sent hurling form the nearest rocky cliff only to plunge some thousand feet down to a fiery pit below. That would be ok, right?
Alright, enough of that........deep breath. What I'm figuring out, when I can silence the terror from within, is that people are generally not very friendly these days and could use a little jolt of reality. (The Deliverer, why not be me!) Besides, this self indulgent egotistical preoccupation with one's gadgets, wealth, and appearance is winning out over genuine concern for one another's well being and its scary. I ask you.......Do I need anger management??? Ok, maybe just a class or two.
A few years ago a progressive chick worked with me and she once said "people are becoming so self involved it's frightening, I'm going to get away from it all soon and my girlfriend and I are going to live in a yurt out west." I didn't think much of it then cuz she was always talking whacked stuff about people and the environment and the end of it all, but a light went on later that day, WHAT THE FUCK IS A YURT???!!! With much thanks to Google I found out It's a "portable, felt-covered, wood lattice-framed dwelling structure traditionally used by nomads in the steppes of Central Asia." Ok! That's gonna go over well three months deep into a harsh winter.
Anyway, that's what I thought then, but now I'm starting to think she might have been right. Just think, getting away from all the mindless gadgetry and the impersonal soullessness that walks the streets today, sounds great?
Nah,my powers are needed here. There are lots of wrong doers out there who need my ever guiding scowl of animosity and my punitive imagination to inject new life into their thoughtless souls. All I need now is a uniform, a commissioner, a signal light and a good lawyer, for I have always been and will always be an admirable councilor of cultivated behavior. Anger management?...........Heh!
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
The low road
I was smack dab in the middle of typing, what I thought was a great idea for an entry, when it hit me; A message from, well, me! It said "ITS TIME TO TAKE A BREAK FROM THE OVERLY DESCRIPTIVE, INNUENDOED, METAPHORICALLY SELF INDULGENT, LONG WINDED USUAL STUFF YOU'VE BEEN DIVING INTO UP UNTIL THIS POINT AND VENTURE DOWN A DIFFERENT PATH."
So after having my work impugned by myself, in classic schizophrenic fashion, I thought about it for a while. What I came up with was simple; I'll put together a list of things, a gathering of thought fragments if you will; a compilation of stuff that genuinely makes me laugh and pisses me off, sprinkled with things that quite frankly, CREEP ME OUT! This list is neither plot driven nor dream induced. If I offend in the process, I'm sorry in advance. It is as follows:
-Any gross word that sounds exactly like what it
does, is or is intended for:
Salve, Ooze, ointment, puss, pustule, mucus,
flem, curd,moist, enema, secretion, shanker,
smegma, sphincter
-Ego laden vanity liscence plates that I don't
understand
-People with horrific feet who wear sandals
-A nun with her thong showing
-Dry ear flakes
-Those who think their Pit Bull is not vicious
until it coughs up the remains of their
ninety-eight year old grandmother......And
her power chair
-An extremely hot chick with three rows of teeth
-Really ugly infants
-The parents of really ugly infants
-Overly hairy fat guys on the beach with an
explosion of ass hair bursting from the
speedo
-Having to sneeze with a mouth full of rice
-A couple of senior citizens square dancing
with assless pants
-Someone who talks to me with that little bit
of flem stuck in the back of their throat making
them sound like a deaf munchkin.......And they
keep going
-A librarian with a pocket knife and a limp
-Ventriloquists
-An ice cream truck that also sells sex toys
-The missing links who shop at Walmart
-Colin Farrell's stardom
-Jerks who yell at me with their car window up
-A prostitute with an eye patch
-The awkward position I'm forced to get into
when trying to reach the back row of the
prepared food bar and the sneeze guard is
cutting off the blood flow to my head
-Women who carry a machete
-A lifeguard wearing a turban
-A church choir made up entirely of Guatemalan
transsexuals
-Really old folks violently making love
-A person who is telling me a story who realizes
its going nowhere and bails abruptly. Usually
it's accompanied by an implosion of self
confidence made noticeable by the spill out of
word fragments and punctuated with an "Ahhh, you
had to be there"
-Two thirty on a Christmas afternoon
-Guys who wear their necklace on the outside
of the black turtleneck
-Pubic hair in my egg salad
-Pubic hair in any salad
-Pantyhose
-When I'm standing up bent over and my foot
gets caught in the underwear instead of going
through the underwear leg hole and I'm sent
hurling towards the floor
-Magnum sized condoms
-Having poop cramps while in the shower
-People driving with the heat cranking,
windows up and convertible top down
-The unidentifiable turd knot found in the
center of a won ton noodle
-A 400 pound waitress who smells like cheese
-The guy who cranks the music for all of us
to hear at the red light.
-Midgets in porn
-Videos of Pole vaulting accidents
-Pole vaulting all together
-An orgy in a nursing home
So after having my work impugned by myself, in classic schizophrenic fashion, I thought about it for a while. What I came up with was simple; I'll put together a list of things, a gathering of thought fragments if you will; a compilation of stuff that genuinely makes me laugh and pisses me off, sprinkled with things that quite frankly, CREEP ME OUT! This list is neither plot driven nor dream induced. If I offend in the process, I'm sorry in advance. It is as follows:
-Any gross word that sounds exactly like what it
does, is or is intended for:
Salve, Ooze, ointment, puss, pustule, mucus,
flem, curd,moist, enema, secretion, shanker,
smegma, sphincter
-Ego laden vanity liscence plates that I don't
understand
-People with horrific feet who wear sandals
-A nun with her thong showing
-Dry ear flakes
-Those who think their Pit Bull is not vicious
until it coughs up the remains of their
ninety-eight year old grandmother......And
her power chair
-An extremely hot chick with three rows of teeth
-Really ugly infants
-The parents of really ugly infants
-Overly hairy fat guys on the beach with an
explosion of ass hair bursting from the
speedo
-Having to sneeze with a mouth full of rice
-A couple of senior citizens square dancing
with assless pants
-Someone who talks to me with that little bit
of flem stuck in the back of their throat making
them sound like a deaf munchkin.......And they
keep going
-A librarian with a pocket knife and a limp
-Ventriloquists
-An ice cream truck that also sells sex toys
-The missing links who shop at Walmart
-Colin Farrell's stardom
-Jerks who yell at me with their car window up
-A prostitute with an eye patch
-The awkward position I'm forced to get into
when trying to reach the back row of the
prepared food bar and the sneeze guard is
cutting off the blood flow to my head
-Women who carry a machete
-A lifeguard wearing a turban
-A church choir made up entirely of Guatemalan
transsexuals
-Really old folks violently making love
-A person who is telling me a story who realizes
its going nowhere and bails abruptly. Usually
it's accompanied by an implosion of self
confidence made noticeable by the spill out of
word fragments and punctuated with an "Ahhh, you
had to be there"
-Two thirty on a Christmas afternoon
-Guys who wear their necklace on the outside
of the black turtleneck
-Pubic hair in my egg salad
-Pubic hair in any salad
-Pantyhose
-When I'm standing up bent over and my foot
gets caught in the underwear instead of going
through the underwear leg hole and I'm sent
hurling towards the floor
-Magnum sized condoms
-Having poop cramps while in the shower
-People driving with the heat cranking,
windows up and convertible top down
-The unidentifiable turd knot found in the
center of a won ton noodle
-A 400 pound waitress who smells like cheese
-The guy who cranks the music for all of us
to hear at the red light.
-Midgets in porn
-Videos of Pole vaulting accidents
-Pole vaulting all together
-An orgy in a nursing home
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