Trying to remain positive and put all in to it's proper lit cubby has led me to get back on my writing saddle and continue to live my dream.
When some of us think of fiction we think of Ernest Hemingway or Stephen King or Maeve Binchy or James Patterson; others think of this (pardon the language):
I, myself, think of men like Dostoevsky, Pushkin, Bukowski, Vonnegut, Robbins, Wolfe, and women like Ami Bender.
Sometimes I day-dream of myself in that position. I have since I was twelve years old. Neil Simon actually made the writing bug bite me with the film version of 'Brighton Beach Memoirs'. My first writing book was a black and white composition tablet just like in the movie. I still have it. I wrote alot of army and science fiction stuff back then. I mean, I was a twelve year old boy!
All this being said, I broke a little bit of a block and wrote a new short story. I write all of my short stories at 'young broke and republican' and my poetry at 'verses of a modern day madman'.
I will provide you all with the link to my new short story just in case you have not made it over there due to it's recent stagnation:
Some nights it all makes sense before I shower and run out the door to the big consumer mecca of my employ known as the SuperMarket.
Other nights it is a series of dream recovery and faded moments of trying to decipher the fleeting snippets from the real time spent making memories.
Pee too much. Sleep disruption. So hot that the sweat soaks sheets. So cold that the nasal run in to my throat is raw. Somehow it all seems refreshing.
To remember ...
... and upon my return the glimmering, shimmering water drops of clean remind me of what is to come, what will be coming for a very long messy time.
It is never better or worse, it just is. It is about experiencing that 'is' and none of the other 'was's or 'could be's.
To Read About And Vomit Again - I Wish I had Stayed Away
It is real simple to be a vocal asshole. To stand up high on a brimming ridge and shout down from the precipice what no one wants to hear. Some may say that that is truth and others know it to be propaganda bullshit and laugh it off as it chokes the air around us.
Some want to be image consultants of their own being and do not know enough about HR to make them even remotely sensitive in regards to PR. This is where we find ourselves in this medium.
I had wanted this turn of tech to be a great and magnificent thing that could help sculpt society in a positive light. This simply is not the case.
Cell phone jargon, chat room banter, and over all senseless exhibitionism has led to the very simple depravity found on here.
How sad!
No one’s pleas for peace are heard, rather agendas and vendettas are what has been permeated into this vortex of once found hope for those with a creative genius.
Hey, heads up - no one wants this crap or rubbish anymore. It is cultish at best!
Once we all waded through a serene pond of fertility with the hopes of spawning something magnificent.
Now, we walk through the sewer in hopes to cast aside the urine and doody long enough to swim deep, although it is always shallow.
A Hump-Day To Enjoy: Let's Hope There Really Is Humping!
Here I am being me and doing what I do best. I am living, smiling, and being the me that has always been deep inside hiding behind the fat and the hate and the hurt and the drink and the drugs and the obnoxious being that I put out to protect me from me, and all the things that I thought were making me feel better.
It is hot and the breeze blows in with a bit more desert acidity than it has been over the last few days. The Southern California desert temperature fluxuations can be grueling this time of year and it seems to be toying with my comfort ability once again. The longer I stay out here I think about how much it is not like when I was a kid. Between the ‘new’ humidity and the crazy hot nights it seems to be changing ever so quickly. Makes me think of Ol’ Blue Eyes:
Which then makes me think of romance and simple games and days of wine and cheese and roses (which has nothing to do with the movie or Jack Lemmon). It is a simple time of day, time of year, time of life, where a good game of backgammon and a steady stream of sweaty bed makes the days fade away into the cortex of pseudo-pop reality, all with a huge smile of, “Yes! I am thin again!”. This song cradled the day and made me think about how much I am brining sexy back:
I am in love again with a fever. I am losing weight like a mad man. My irrational anger at the world is fading and I am much more complacent with reality. Dreams and hopes are exactly that, dreams and hopes; somehow along the line I came to think of them as guaranteed pay-outs and that simply is not true. Live now and you better friggin’ appreciate it, because if you don’t and keep living in the Vaseline haze, well, that is all it will be: messy.
I LOVE my Lady more than life itself and it feels soooooo damn good to feel sexy and have her look at me with the twinkle in her eye. Life is funny, sexuality and attraction are even funnier. Belly rolls and falling down giggles make up what reality should be. Serious people win the race; think of the tortoise and the hare. This is for my attraction to her and my love of every curve she has; her mind, her body, her soul: I LOVE YOU MELISSA!
I want to thank the people that have made a difference to me here on BS. Some have been good, some bad, and some indifferent. Either way and any way in between, I want to thank my 'posse':
Jennifer/GirlPreacher, Big Chris, BethAnne/Mom2, Kwick, Daisy, Lagniappe, Mistress Reba, Lucy, Angie, Katie, Celtic Mist, Lookin’, taylor, Chanda, Biggie T, Squash, Blueeyes, ValAnne, Mokie Joe, Nurse, Heather, Hook, Boss Dan, POH, Moody, Kristin, Vegas, Shibari, Adam Warlock, Lizzie/purps/R.E. writing support team, Anonymous, Cracker, Grandma Baba, Gloria/gjwlegs, Shrink, Prank, Randy420, Sixx, scratch, raspberrytoast, Captain, Chey, Sherry’s cherries, Whit, Robert Odom, the DeBunkem boys, AZRON, ZappaFan, Pretty Rubble, LilLadyReg, Sarah, Macey, Harold, joesblog6, Abbigail, Hawk, John the Squabbler, and the rest of you whom I talk with/react with/ support and cherish - all for very different reasons! There are more but I am being forgetful as Lady is waiting for me to come play backgammon and hopefully knock some boots!
Watching My League And Washing My Tears - With Plenty Of Bactine And Visine
Maybe this post will work, maybe it will not …
I am having a slow response from my hook-up and all and that seems to make a stutter sputter in my streaming video much more pronounced than it may be with a better one. As always, dial up is no friend of this man and sometimes my DSL has an identity crisis and thinks it is the depraved dial up of years before, thus making me echo the words of Jennifer Saunders, “Cry, cry, sweetie darling, cry, cry”.
For the last two years (and probably more so since my nervous breakdown in 2001), I have been in a very blue funk; one that could be considered black as death and morbid beyond belief. I have put on over two hundred pounds since then and found myself in a reclusive world of delusion and degradation. At times, I wondered if I could have gone on.
Many of you know, and some of you have no idea, but I have partied and played with the best of them over my times here on the almighty blue ball. Drugs (too much, too many), sex (too much, too many), religion (too much, too many), and fake aspects of all of them. I have played the martyr, played the prosecutor and the persecuted. I am no, NO, better than anyone else. I am a mere mortal man; a being of clay sculpted from the sands of Earth with the intention of play upon the flora and fauna with duty to a higher allegiance.
For a long, LONG, time this song has been my theme. I grew up watching my Dad sit in his underwear on the floor strumming a wooden cane like a guitar while listening to this song through headphones. It made an impression on me as most Statler Brother songs did and have. The past two years have pulsed this pustule into the popping and now the pressure is released:
When I think of my ex-wife and my daughter and all that has transpired in regards to deteriorated relationships in my life I think of the Everly Brothers, yet another bunch of boys that make me feel what I need to feel when I need to … the only other may be Ricky Nelson, but I will not bother with that as I can not find the clips that I want to show. These two encompassed what needs to be felt with those in pain and joy and any throes in between. I miss listening to my Dad sing their songs as he drove me around his childhood haunts with a Meister Brau between his legs and another twelve in a brown bag behind the driver’s seat. I miss him handing me the beer when a cop would pass by; as if a twelve year old consuming a beer in a car was a better fate than him driving and doing it. Cest la vie. All I must say is in this song:
In this past few weeks I have returned to a state that I have rarely found in my life - ‘optimism’. And in embracing that optimism, I find another Everly’s song that takes hold of all my goodbyes while embracing all of my ‘hell yeah, get in the back seat’ moments. It is one tune that I can hum and hum and still feel like a bad ass while thinking of the old Blake Edwards’ joke regarding ‘humming’ as opposed to ‘whistling’. Everlys part deux:
Here now is how I have been feeling since I have taken myself away from BS, cut my hair, lost some weight (30 lbs.), and fixed my sites on living a positive realistic life. I feel amazing. I like to go out now. While reading BS posts this past couple of days, I have been driven to depression, worry, anxiety, and horrible negative thoughts, and actuall physical pain and sickness which I have not experienced while being away or ’out of the loop’; I concluded that I should just not do that to myself anymore as I care far too much about myself to sacrifice my new found happiness for any ‘on-line battle or feud’. I now feel connected with mankind more than ever and I do not feel tricked or deceived by my fellow man. I feel glad, as Dave Clark will tell you:
Beyond that I know that bad is bad, good is good, and all in between is what we wade through.
The biggest thing in life is to not pay attention to what draws our attention, but rather to pay attention to the overlooked, the neglected.
We must never be like this man; as eccentric, chic, vile, hideous, and pop-culture embraced as he may be:
Or maybe it is this Charlie that we should give two shits and a flaming piss about, as maybe the diaretics and anti-biotics will be better in protecting us from the conclusion of the people who shove their ends in our faces regularly, in order to do whatever Cleveland-brown-powder-steamer-Cincinatti-chili-dog-scat-Kostas thing that they want to! Here is the alter-Charlie:
As much as I admire G.G. Allin, I do not want to be him!
This is why we are what we are.
We raise beasts as a society.
Personally, I have learned to kill and eat the beasts, but only in moderation and not so much that I feel bloated.
Done, did, die.
I am still here, just minus the passion to participate so much.
I have found that I have actually felt better not surfing BS lately. I spent two or three mornings doing it and became so down on life that it made me physically ill.
Attacks, conspiracies, real BS, crap, hurt, pain, nonsense, insanity, rubbish, non-consequential episodes. All that I do not need. I no longer need an escape, a façade of existence. I am happy; I write, I am successful, I am a man - no longer a mouse, trying to appease - as I so familiarly jump into the role of. I am me - take it or leave it. I need no alliances, no foes - I am not at war with anyone, never mind the whole world as some are.
I will be here, but much, much less.
It is what is necessary, what I must do.
Thank you for reading. I hope that when I get published that you may all purchase a copy - I will let you know.
Many Blogstream members are there
already! Quotes from members: "It's like blog lite!" -- "I like the instant
gratification!" -- "Stop spectating, get in the game!"
If you have not joined in, you are really missing out!
