Hate alone is not enough to nourish. But there’s rage too.

i do believe that julio gonazlez showed me some peace tonight. and i am sure that he didn’t use human growth hormone or pay an easy G per hour for a hooker. he probably did a bunch of other stuff that i don’t think i agree with. but he gave me what i was looking for. which wasn’t people flying planes into a building or a scapegoat or an easy way out. just peace.
and he quieted a bunch of other people. and peace and quiet seem to go together. much harder in new york than other places (i’ve been). but he shut them up. well.

made me question if it is more powerful for an individual to bring a crowd to speak or to silence.
or is it more powerful for an individual to speak than to be silent.
balance is the answer

oh i saw him very near to my current plot. a building that i was curious about. sensory pleasing all around.

i am thinking that #2 and #5 are most important

there’s a bunch of hubub about a fare hike by the MTA. this has me vexed about something i noticed a few weeks ago. every weekend, the MTA make a shit load of changes to the train lines to allow for repairs and stuff (http://mta.info/nyct/service/subsrvn1.htm). they post signs everywhere on the trains and on the platforms. they used to be 8.5x11 simple black and white notifications of the line being affected and what to do about it. a few months ago i noticed that they have pretty good quality color signs. sounds expensive, perhaps excessive. so i say to my self, maybe they chose color so that they could color coordinate the color of the subway lines. but no. they are all black. i’m sure it doesn’t even make a dent in the colossal bureaucracy that is public transportation but it seems unnecessary to me.

i seem to have fallen into a bit of a medically challenging pot hole on my inspiration superhighway. endured another frisbee injury which is sad. very sad. feels like maybe i sprained my wrist or something. luckily this time i was not the only participant in my injury, there was a collision involved. So i was figuring on getting it checked out when a few days later, after enjoying a delicious eggplant dream wrap, my lower lip began to swell. big. like bubba gump big. this isn’t the first, nor the worst, incident so, being prepared with some meds, i popped a few benadryl and the swelling stopped. so did my dosage. later that night i had, of all things, sushi, with soy sauce running down my larger than usual lower lip. probably not the best choice in foods after an allergic reaction but i never claimed to be all that bright. before i turned in i popped another med just to make sure that things were cool. about 2 or 3 am i woke up and had a strange sensation in my upper lip. staring back at me in the mirror is what looked like a cross between bart simpson and a fraggle (i don’t know if those were noses or upper lips). i finally broke down and called an allergist who happened to also be listed under internal medicine (two birds, one stone?). he shot me with a few things (roids) and ordered a few tests and checked my hand and ordered an xray. he tested me for a few things and confirmed things i knew make me itchy (cats, mold, mites).
next i called my insurance company to find out which facilities accepted my insurance and the girl on the phone searched around and confirmed that i was going to facilities in the ‘plan’. she mentioned that in the future i could call the facility for more up to date information because their systems are not real time. get a sense o satisfaction because i’m finally using the benefits that i’ve been working for over the last six years.
went and got an xray yesterday. blood tests this morning (filled at least ten vials). i’m starting to think this taking care of medical stuff is not that bad.

now it’s friday afternoon. i’m tired from the drugs and extra effort needed to operate with a limp arm. home from work and looking to relax with a book and i get a call from an toll free number and answer. empire blue cross blue shield has hired an independent auditing company to conduct a survey regarding their customer service. 3 days after i called them about where i can have blood tests and xrays done. i can’t imagine that anyone calling customer service locate a place to remove their colon or breast might have reacted to this but i for one was a little pissed off. leave me the hell alone. let me heal. and put some of your survey money into lobbying for universal health care or something.

everytime the iroomba comes up on woot! i hesitate for a few seconds and the let it sell out while i read reviews and manuals trying to figure out if it’ll be worth while. everytime, that is, until the last time. i bought one during the last woot-off.
i didn’t even own a vacuum so the cost of a vacuum helped me justify the purchase. i suppose most purchasers justify the purchase based on the claim that it will save them time. i cannot make that claim.
when i set the thing up for the first time, i spent 20 minutes perfecting the location of the home base (it fits nicely under my bed). once that task was complete, i pressed the clean button on the remote control and proceeded to watch the robot navigate under and around the 9 legs of my desk and chair and move to the next room bouncing from wall to wall. i probably watched for 40 minutes. hows that for a time saver?
i’m not a super busy person where i can say that i don’t have enough time to sweep my floors and my place isn’t that big so it isn’t a huge production to pull out the broom and clean the floors.
so i guess this is really just a productive form of entertainment for me. the $99 cable package that i pay for but haven’t watched in two months doesn’t clean my floors, just my bank account.

http://money.cnn.com/2007/03/13/magazines/fortune/pluggedin_murphy_terror.fortune/index.htm?postversion=2007031311

this article explains that successful suicide bombers usually have a better education than the ones who are caught. i take two things from this: 1) success in education does not imply intelligence but is more probably a sign of a mind that follows rules and is easily controlled, 2) the poor are too occupied with survival to succumb to the fear tactics of religious/political fanatics.

while starting my car yesterday, i heard squealling rubber for a moment which stopped and then came back for good about 10 seconds later. i disengaged the ingintion and popped the hood to investigate. somehow the belt had worked itself loose and was stuck between the pulley and the engine block.
i noticed something long thin at the bottom of the engine compartment coming out from beneath the radiator. figuring it was part of the belt, i reached down and picked it up only to find that it had some weight to it and it was furry. as my urban instincts kicked in i realized it was a rat so i dropped it. this new information in hand and a closer inspection of the “grease” is noticed scattered around the engine compartment revealed that the grey and red substance was probably rat guts. with the help of bobby, local beggar, i got the belt back on to the pulleys.
now it’s time to clean up the mess, so i equipped myself with a shopping bag to pick up and dispose of the remains. turns out i was only able to find half of the victim. i’m guessing the other half will reveal itself gaseously.
i’ll probably need to get the engine steam cleaned.

i sometimes justify my gloomy outlook on not wanting to be disappointed. expect the worst so when it happens you’re not disappointed. doesn’t make for a very hopeful outlook. i made the mistake of being happy last wednesday. i was wrong. oh well, in a way, guess i was actually right.

i’m completely stressing about the building. i know it’s a good investment and this and that but we’re about to take on some more debt and we don’t have a lot of cash in the kitty. just repaired some flooring and what not and cleared out a nice piece of padding. i’ve been sitting on my ass the last year and a … uh I guess almost two years in october. so i own that failure. i haven’t been saving money or working on my place. so if i get priced out of this place i need to be able to rent it out. to do that i need to make major modifications. to do that i have to have motivation or money. so that means it’s time to stop spending and start working. i don’t have a plan. never do. i tend to shoot first and ask questions later. or probably more accurately, don’t shoot at all and don’t ask questions later, just worry and brood. so anyways. i own it. not the building but the situation.

tired. had a great weekend with family goings on. got completely fragmented. bent. split. polluted last night at awis’ 21st birthday. oh it was jules’ wedding too. great time. they threw a good pary which is something i figured those two were good at. just seemed like they have a good time. i was binging pretty hard. got to a point where there was karaoke and long heartfelt confab with my bro. i actually tapped out. that never happens.
so anyway got a wakey from kris and things were not looking good for an honorable lift-off. i haven’t been hung over in a while which means my body has just flown the white flag figuring there’s no use, i’ll always fight back by tipping the bottle again. so a little later deej and bexter came in to awake the beast. i wasn’t tryin a hear dat scene. so she went and foraged for some addy to shrink my grey a bit. then i woke up and voided my bowels then my gut. by the time i completed my floor routine, bex and dex showed up. i popped it then asked her for a few more minutes. planned to leave at 11 AM it was 10:25. Round a bout 10:45 moses and dex showed up for the final lift off. matt packed my crap while i de-loused (another life saver). was feeling better. got on the road with john and dom by 11:08..late.. but respectable. stopped off for a coffee and a few glazers for the ride.
we took a pretty long ride and arrived at dina’s two hours later. bit into the hair of the dog and hung with the other side. had a great homemade pasta dinner. lined the stommy something fierce. left for NT and hung with the boyz on the porch once we got settled. nodded off a bit. good speaks with the gents then took another shower.
left for bklyn. got here. played some terrible guit and having some night cap. trying to bring it down. tired. not sleepy but real tired. I’m glad i have work tomorrow so that i can catch up on some sleep and get ready for next weekend. it was great to see everyone this weekend.

phew. lot’s of bright and cheery posts not so lately. a lot has happened since my last. i was bombarded with family for three weekends in a row. first my wiw sister came in and we had a nice visit. took a trip to the statue of liberty and ellis. spent a lot of time but we were both intrigued. then i met my dad in sleepy hollow for a birthday dinner for my uncle dom. he and e had a long involved conversation about religion. not exactly what i would have chosen for an 81st birthday party but they enjoyed sparring (and reveled in the fact that they share birthdays).
then my bro, sis-law, dex, cuz and wiw sis came down for a weekend. walked the bridge with the ladies, got some maggie brown fare. good times there too. never long enough but that’s my fault either for living far away or not having a nice enough place to make it uber desirable to visit. then the elder came with her kids. had a great time there too. made some music. made them walk the brooklyn bridge. all in all a great success. and i only had to give the place a stern cleaning once.
other than that, i’ve been extremely mal-motivated with work and un-work. haven’t made much headway on the imbibing front or the mitigation thereof. probaby contributing to me not getting my stuff in order. been reading a bit more so that’s good. buying and seeing music.

where do you go when you can’t find beauty in anything? all you see is decay? do look into the future? the past? the present? when you don’t pick a course because you have no hope. it all adds up to a loss. we all have a past present and future. the future and the past are held together by this instant we call now. and the direction that we chose is based on the past to avoid being where we don’t want to be and guessing where we think we want to be. no matter how wide you zoom the lens you have to ignore the blurry region that is death and doom and nothingness. it’s the only way to choose a direction. because all directions lead to it. albeit in different timeframes but they are all the same path. to the grave. that’s why it’s important to keep the past and future in balance so that the present is as good as you can make it.
i have a terrible time with…well…time. i evaluate it incorrectly. i fail to enjoy the present. let go of the past. hope for the future. i need to enjoy, let go and hope. without it there isn’t much left. and that’s the whole point.

i had to return E’s bke to here yesterday cause i don’t have enough room for it here. it’s a small frame, awkward for me to ride. Oh yeah, she’d also left her keys at my place and was thusly locked out. She took up some eats at an eatery local to her and i said i’d meet her there. i got to her neighborhood and found the place she was at. i was late. So i finished up her dish and we jetted. i was riding her bike and fooling around in the road and stuff and around the corner from her place i was up on the side walk. i see this black impala (read unmarked popo). He slams the car in reverse and stops pretty much in front of me and e. this napolean prick of an officer gets out of the car and excuses himself but “riding on the sidewalk is an offense”. i pony up my id and he runs it. while he’s running my license i see a delivery boy up the road pulling onto the sidewalk. figures. truth is i agree with the law. it’s purpose being preventing pricks like me barreling down a sidewalk full of people and causing a safety hazard. but wait a minute. in brooklyn? at 11:30 on a monday night? besides the fact that i’m sure there’s a bag of something changing hands in front of my apartment at this very hour, is there a real risk when there’s no one out on a 45 f blustery mid-may night. the guy comes back with a summons telling me i can show up at the precinct on such and such to viddy a safety tape. the typical post-confrontation scenarios entered my mind. could i have reasoned with the guy? taken a shot at his crackpot detective work? asked him if this was a productive use of my tax dollars? ask him if he realized that i was walking with a hooker and the bike was stolen? blah blah. but the lockdown was on and i clammed up. oh well. maybe i’ll make the summons date but i’ll be enjoying plenty of nachos, refried beans and buffalo wings the night before to maintain ripeness of air in the viewing room.

Just got back from a family vacation. It’s been something like 18 years since the last time we all went out. Lot’s has happened since then. I’m more than twice as old as I was then. Our family is more than twice the size. Everyone got a long real great and it was pretty tight confines and there was massive deluges which kept us all pretty much housebound. I think it’d be a good thing to repeat once a year or two. Things like holidays are hurried and sort of chaotic with the older kids having other obligations. I guess it took the old guy turning sixty for all of us to synchronize our watches but hopefully we can continue this until it becomes a tradition.

so i worked this evening and being that i still dont trust the Gizzle train (although ive seen marked improvement) i opted for a cab {company sponsored of course - see lebanon, my main memory being about how much it sounded like elevenon. freshman year there was a kid from lebanon named masud which i thought was cool and he had a tattoo of lebanon. enough about me. he said he moved to the city when he was 17 in 1984, alone, very little english and shit. real life shit. none of this american blah blah blah those crazy thises and thoses. sounded like a good guy.
he happened to cut some honda off just as we were driving under the bqe and they honked. he continues on and we continue talking and i see the car pull beside us and two, um, lets be politically correct here….. thugs….. yeah i think you get the picture…. brandish a nice shiney pistole. a gat so to speak. first thought is if they’re in such a big hurry then why do they have time to drive along side us. very counter intuitive.
i chose to ignore and continue the conversation and decide not to react because that would just give the thugs what they want. attention. cause if they wanted to shoot they would have.
i also decided not to inform the driver in case he got spooked and reacted. after we lose the thugs i ask if he saw what they were waving.
sez he /yeah happens all of the time/.
sez iandi /you servived lebanon, those punks arent’ going to spook you, huh/.
sez he /civil war started when i was 9/
america (especially white america) has a lot of learning to do about how the world operates. things can get real bad. our government, media and society are real good at isolating us from the realities so that they don’t lose productivity from us. the less we know, the harder we work, the more they make.
not real succinct but truth is i needed a Jack and beer after that so I’m tired.

So I didn’t fag out. Did the open mic and played Woke Up and Use Me. Messed up the first verse of Use Me but pulled it together. Hands were rubbery so I didn’t attempt the embellishments I’d worked out for woke up. Ef and Nk were there which made it cool. Thought I’d get some feedback from them. It was warm. “At least you got up there”, “It’s not all about the singing.” I got the picture that it was mediocre. I followed a bunch of pretty talented singers so that was differnet from last time when there was some newbies. Also, I didn’t fuck up last time like I did this. But, my perspective was that I was slightly more comfortable this time although, surely, visibly nervous. I could swear people were clapping to the beat of woke up, I thought it was Nk and Ef but she said she didn’t hear it. Anyway, I’m mostly just typing this down to document my challenge to keep this up and nail down some more repetoir. There’s mic’s in redhook on Thursdays. I;m going to try to get two under my belt in a week.

Well it’s time for me to do the open mic thing again. I did it once, almost 6 months ago. I did ok. And it gave me something to talk about. But I didn’t follow up. Haven’t done it since. No good excuse. Sloth maybe. Not feeling real confident right now. Voice sort of sucks. Tried to make a few changes to the songs. Not really working. But I just have to get up there again. Time to live up to the smack I talked about having done it once. ewwww. big deal. Time to get it done.

Two separate friends have made the comment in recent months that I just won’t allow myself to be happy. So am I all that’s standing in my way? I suppose. I don’t have a passion to keep me active and focused so I just lull and exist. I’m mundane by choice. Nothing’s good enough even though it should be.

I’m pretty ineffective these days. I’m terrible at closing things out. I’m good at getting halfway into something and then getting distracted or lost. My ability to define or even complete tasks has deteriorated. Chances are I wasn’t ever really good at it but man have I worsened. Simple things too. The only thing I can effectively accomplish is laundry. Oh, one accomplishment I can claim is superior half-assed-ness. Work, Music, Life, Home, Family, Friends, Love, Hate, Happiness, Anger-All half-assed. They say you get out of life what you put into it. I’ve been graced with getting more than I’ve given.

It’s starting to catch up with me. I need to identify if I’m just plain lazy or if I’m just terrible at defining what stokes me about the things I do (if they stoke me at all). Or maybe I just have a miserable attitude. I don’t seem to take pride in anything that I do. Or maybe I’m just a pussy, too afraid to risk anything. Seems like I’m spiralling but at least I got all of this out. Me me me me me, I I I I. Maybe I’m too self centered and selfish to consider anything else but my self-loathing.

Gotta post more when I’m on top of my shit. This place is looking gloomy as hell.

I just got an email about a strategy to control gas prices from the consumer side. The email suggested buying gas from all but the two largest gas companies, Exxon and Mobil. My first impression is that this movement wasn’t well researched, as Mobil is owned by Exxon . A quick visit to their websites is convincing enough.
I don’t claim to have great perspective on the impact of gas prices because I don’t pay for my own and I live in a city with extensive public transit resources where driving isn’t economical because of traffic and parking. The only way to hurt the gas companies is to buy less, not change where you buy it. This means walking, car pooling, consolidating trips, leaving the SUV at home and driving your new Prius. Unfortunately, the only way to encourage the masses to think this way is to hit them in the wallet (the same tactic the email wanted to take on the gas companies). If things costs too much, people change their behavior or alternatives (hybrids, fuel efficiency technologies, public transit) become more economically attractive.

I feel lazy and unable to accomplish anything. I’m not even motivated enough to truely blow everything off.

I’m beat. Tired. But it’s to be expected. Had a long weekend that I want to post about and a pretty long day today. Just got up from the death grip of a power nap. Phone woke me up. E’s calling but I’m unable to regain sufficient mobility, consciousness or motivation to get it. It has sort of become a thing where she’s got a weekly thing going on in my neighb and she’ll hang in the hood afterward. Fairly understood. That spooks me. Even though she leaves a message I owe a call to Nubby-G. When I finally get up, I give n.g. a call and he wants to get a steak. My calling him first tells me that I’m a little reluctant to see E. I tell n.g. that I’ll call him back. Hanging w/ n.g. is something I don’t get to do too often.

I can’t sort out in my mind what I want or why I’m doing it. Not a big deal, just strained from the fatigue.

I start feeling obligated to E. She’s going to be all, “you should want to see me. It’s been a few days.” And she’s right. But I am probably going to see her out of obligation instead of desire. Obligation sounds harsh but that’s the best description I can muster. It’s not fair to either of us. It will be nice to see her. But it would be nice to see her tomorrow too. I don’t want her to feel unhappy because of me. An idle mind is the devil’s playground. I’m not too active in asserting or persuing my needs and wants so I end up with not much to do and then I think to myself… well I’m not doing anything better. All of this points towards apathy.

These don’t seem to be the thoughts of a well polished psyche. Full lot of indecision, indifference, ambiguity, conflict and a lacking in foundation, enthusiasm, and discipline. Just figure out what you want and get in the drivers seat. Passengering doesn’t seem to be fulfilling you.

P.O.S.

On why “sticking feathers in your ass does not make you a chicken,” a line from “Half-Cocked Concepts”:

“I think it’s something that’s entirely true, and it’s also a reference to one of my favorite movies, Fight Club. It’s one of those things that Brad Pitt’s just spitting really fast, one of the lines that just pops in there when he’s talking to Ed Norton. Like, have you hit bottom yet? No, you haven’t hit bottom yet. You can act like you’re upset, you can act like you’re disappointed, you can fuck around and say shit like ‘Oh man, I’m so depressed, life is so horrible,’ or whatever. Sticking feathers in your ass doesn’t make you a chicken?you haven’t hit bottom until you’ve hit bottom. You can’t fake it. Live, be happy, enjoy yourself.”

From The Onion

my parents have problems. they seem pretty miserable and unable to find a way to enjoy the fruits of their labor. they spent their life providing everything they could to their four children. they are two very differenet people. pops is a voracious thinker. very proud, confident and determined. mom is a voracious feeler. very emotional, empithetic and affectionate. i am very happy to have been from them. what i see is that they interact on such completely different terms that they never actually communicate. my intention was to write down a whole bunch of opinions about what is wrong with them and try to figure out how i might be able to impact the situation. at the same time figure out why i fail at relationships so well. i’m not at a point where i can do that here. in fact i may not be at a point where i can even do it privately. but i’ll try there first.

i don’t know how to say no. sometimes i’m more afraid of letting someone down that i’ll put there immediate needs before mine. now that may not sound like a bad thing. it might be considered generous, but it’s actually self-serving because i’m decieving the person into believing i really desire to do the things that i agree to even if that’s not true. it has a real negative affect in a relationship and if i constantly avoid hurting the other person by putting my stuff aside, then i start resenting the person or the relationship. after years of doing this, i sometimes don’t even know when i’m doing it. it’s probably me projecting my insecurities on the other person. like anticipating that s/he is as weak as me and can’t accept rejection. i guess the solution is to develop some self-assurance/confidence/reliance where i don’t seek acceptance from the outside but seek it from within. i’ll get right on that.

ugh.

people like to talk about themselves. i don’t like talking about myself that much. i mean i’ll do it but i’m not comfortable there. so pepole say i’m a good communicator when really all i am is a listener. i don’t contritute anything because i keep it locked up pretty well. that’s one reason the blog is sparse. it doesn’t come natural for me to pontificate or anything. i probably do it to protect myself but what i’m really doing is bottling things up. and if i actually communicated well then i’d let my thoughts and feelings out instead of trying to contain them. i thought of an analogy the other day between feelings and bottle rockets. if you light off a bottle rocket and it flies into the air it pops and that’s it no damage done, save for the nearby gnat or fly which may not fair well in the explosion. on the other hand if you set the bottle rocket off in a bottle, like facing down so it doesn’t move, then the explosion is going to destroy the bottle. so if you keep things locked up too long and don’t release them and resolve them then they’ll tear you up.

I was terrible today. I got nothing done. Well I did the laundry but that was it. Completely ineffective. No motivation. I allowed myself to just not work. It was discouraging. I have definite tasks that I could knock out but I didn’t. Which makes me feel worse and on and on. It’s a very self-desctructive path. I guess I can just call it a rut but I need to start bootstrapping a little more effectively. Either that or just come to terms with my shortcomings and at least stop feeling bad. Tomorrow’s a new set of 24 if I wake up for it so all I can do is try to be better tomorrow.

I had a really good trip back north last week. I had business in Rhode Island that I volunteered for because it’s real close to Becca’s school. I went up on a Saturday and hung out with some friends and the Watertown crew. There was some static back in Brooklyn so that sort of sucked but I was among friends/family. Then out to Stow for some steak. My bro finally agreed to cut my hair. I’d bothered him about it a few times and he never wanted the responsibility. He did a good job and I look funny. Like him. He made me cut his and I did a terrible job. Lots of missed spots but I did take the opportunity to shred up his ear a little with the clippers. That sucked.
I missed out on going to Lancaster but it was just as well cause everyone was tired. I left from Stow in the morning and after getting caught speeding in RI, I arrived at the APC plant. Thinigs didn’t look good there. They weren’t ready and they looked pretty nervous. the ended up postponning the testing until the next week. I was still able to do some testing on my side of the system so I stuck around until Wednesday. I decided that, since I had to be back on Friday for my sisters play I’d stay and work from Watertown on a few things. I went there and hung out with Matt, Mariel, Dexter and Alissa for a few days. Totally blew off work on Friday and played Soul Caliber. My thumbs were sore. I did get to see Becca’s play and she rocked it. Then I went out to Lanc and hung with my sister and the kids. It was good. I helped Kris take care of some stuff on the house and it seemed to be a shot in the arm. She’s been pounding away at stuff since then. It’s good to see.
I was able to spend some good time with everyone which has been a tough thing for me for the past few years. And with my general shitty disposition of late, the trips that I’ve made back there have been less than I’d've liked to have made them.

Can’t get it moving today. It’s already a wash. Just no motivation whatever. I need to get myself moving. I couldn’t even motivate to play music this weekend. Ugh. General disgust. I should have posted over the past few days when I was feeling better. ish. Like Thursday. For some reason, Thursday was good. I had no problems at all. I was in a good mood. It was a good day. Perhaps there’s a correlation between the idility that motivates me to post and my gloomy moods. So, it’s the days that I’m struggling when I choose to post.

I just got back from the laundry place. These two little girls from down the street were giggling and looking at me so I ask them “what’s going on ladies?” The older one tells the younger one “go ahead tell him christine…” She looks up at me laughing and says “Your shirt is on backwards.” I look and their right. But this isn’t like just a t-shirt it’s like a jersey thing with buttons down the front (well, back in my case). We all had a good laugh. I asked them how they knew it wasn’t my pants that were on backwards or perhaps even my head. I think the problem is with my head but that’s another subject for another post.

I keep letting these moments pass me by. I don’t have enough respect for missed opportunities and don’t allow them to teach me much. It’ll catch up to me, I know. Opportunities will be gone. Abilities. Skills. I envy (again but don’t learn from) people that I see enjoying what they’re doing and taking an active role in it. I guess it boils down to knowing what you want, having the confidence that you’re on the right path, the clarity to identify when you’re not heading the right way, and the strength to change it. Letting go. Living.
I have this recurring feeling that I have way too much faith and trust in the past, less in the present and almost none in the future. It’s a control issue.
Not preparing, caring or wanting a future = no direction. Part of living life is making decisions. I don’t. I leave things ambiguous. I’m ambivalent. About almost everything. Even the things that I know I want or enjoy. I don’t recommend it.

So I finagled this great business trip up to Row Dailand for next week. It bridges two weekends that I wanted to be up at the homestead. One for Z’s 30th birthday and another for Becca’s play. So I’m leaving on Saturday and staying until the next Sat or Sun. Looking forward to it. The work is super light too. Yeeehaw.

Talked to my cousin Matt today. It was his birthday last week and he’s officially half my age. Old fart. So I’m badgering him about what’s new and this and that and like most teenagers he says nothing. I’m thinking this happens because kids are just hopping through life not really appreciating what’s going on around then. So a little more questioning and he tells me that he may have broken this bone or that bone and that he got a computer for christmas and then when I’m talking to his mom she tells me he’s working on a model plane (something his father used to do). Then the tables turn and I’m asked what’s new. I say not much. Neglecting to mention with out further questioning all of the stuff that’s going on. New car. More music. Played a gig (although that’s a little old and needs to be repeated). It makes me realize that progress is slow and I have to evaluate it more often. It may not seem like much to me but it’s something.

So I was a little frustrated this morning tooling around brokelyn with a coffee cart being towed in front of me. They guy was going real slow which is to be expected because if that cart gets free then I’m in a bit of trouble. The annoying part was that the guy was ambiguous about his choice of lanes. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to pass left or right. Finally, the coffee slinger picked a lane so I cruised on around him. As I look in my rear view mirror I discover the vehicle that was towing the cart was a Mercedes Benz ML-350. Not bad. Maybe I should get a coffee cart.

I’m such a fucking old man today. Everything is getting on my nerves. Nothing seems to be going my way and the simplest tasks seem to be impassable. Don’t get me wrong, most people that know me well (a group to which I don’t belong) would agree that I’m an old man by nature. The difference is that I even sound like an old man to me.

It serves a lot of purposes. Hoisting a few has it’s benefits. The problem arises when hoisting is the only benefit. I’ll try t document the nature of this beast but I doubt it’ll be accurate. But I’ll tell you this. I’m drunk. I’m alone. I have better things to do. This is the problem but it’s so obvious I don’t see it. ’nuff sed.

So everyones crying about supergerms and shit. I personnally have been seeking out non-anti-bacterial soap and avoid antibiotics (yes no hyphens, I just like typing that word, hyphens) so that I don’t encourage the supergerm.
See, as you might know, evolution is premised, at least lately, on survival of the fittest. So everyone is trying real hard like to pass on there genes. From the southern bell debutant all the way down to the e-coli coming out of her ass. But if you die before you procreate than you’re genes, which may resisit AIDS, cancer or other population modulators, don’t live on in the form of a progeny. So, of late, antibiotics and antibacterial soap have come under fire. If you kill off all of the bacteria that is suceptable to anti-bacterial soap then, the bacteria that can resist your anti-bacterial-ism will survive and have no competition. The bacteria that survived anti-bacerial-ism are going to be resistant to anti-biotics that have been developed and a certain part of the human population will die off because their immune systems and our anti-biotics can’t protect them.
I bought into this theory for a while but then I realized that the theory is in fact another manifestation of survival of the fittest. If the supergerm can survive my anti-bacterial soap then it is strong. And let’s say, I can’t fight that bacteria, then I am weak. And the winner is……..the bacteria. Which kills me and my weak genes. Ultimately, this is good for the human waste (I mean race). Then we build a superhuman that is immune to the bacteria which is immune to the anti-bacterial soap that we developed and we get to develop more anti-bacterial products which will make another person rich (more than probably a anglo-pharmaceutical heir) who can afford more medical care to advance their weak genes.

So women pretty much require men to be dicks. I’ve been fortunate so far in that I haven’t had to be an outright dick, even though I am by nature. Just like me(n), they want something but don’t explicitly state it. However, on their side of the gameboard they give something in order to get what they want without disclosing the expectations attached with the give. On the otherhand, men take something without dislosing what they don’t want. So, it turns into a dance. Each to a different song but seemingly to the same beat. At some point the two songs that the pair are dancing to become out of sync and things start getting awkward. The dance is no longer beautiful but atrocious. I guess that men pretty much require women to be bitches. It’s a dance that’s older than any of us.

I’m really enjoying the uproar over the cartoons depicting the prophet Mohomed. Not because I’m an American who’s trying to justify our occupation of Muslim territory. But because it highlights the banality of the symbols of religions. I’d feel the same way if it were Chrisitians in an uproar about Christ. I don’t understand much about the religions but if I had to guess these individuals are acting way out of context with the foundation of their religion’s teachings. Religion doesn’t intend to have people killed over their beliefs. It’s purpose is just to exclude non-believers and identify them as ‘not one of us’. To give believers a sense of security that they are among like minded people. That’s the community that I see come out of religion. I can’t find a link on the net just yet about this but I heard on NPR that Iran has solicited cartoons depicting the holocaust. I hope that causes just as much uproar in the Jewish community. But it probably won’t. Because these sects are all the same except that some have more influence (i.e. money and power) than others. And the one’s that have more influence can find sanitized methods to protest.

I’d be more concerned if it didn’t.

You know what totally makes life. The path. It seems obvious to those who know and naive to those who don’t but …. it’s not now, it’s not then, it’s not when. It’s all of them. I am very fortunate. In addition to that I am privaleged. But right now all I can smell is the coffee that i misfired. I can’t wait and it better taste as good as it smells right now. Finished reading my bro’s post about his trip souff. I’m heading down dare la manana. So fuck you all. I’ll be enjoying my neph and sisylizaw and bro and y’all be fuckin static. Although, I do have to go to work for a few whores tomorrow.
So I’m meeting and leaning a lot of people lately. E’s got some shit. Real flowy. That’s how I’m seeing life. I don’t know if she see’s it the way I do. But anyway the whole purpose of this post was that I met Pierre’s wife today. In know now why he’s always smiling. She’s magnificent. Beautiful. Thoughtful. Thankful and beautiful. I’m shallow but it’s been working ok so far. So she and I talked about life and kids and shit. I had a certain view of life after that we were all just searchin around and we found someone at somepoint. Ok….. Im too wasted to continue. Click drunk.. I’m excited to see Dexter tomorrow. And his mom. And my brother. They’re all the same.

Sometimes I conceive nefarious deeds that are meant to induce laughter. I think it would be cruel to iron all of the pages in the braille section of the library. muhahaahhahahah.

Some people do nothing but give. Some nothing but take. It’s a dangerous combination, one where oppopsite’s attracting becomes detri-mental. And unfortunately true giving and taking can be a blury subject. One could appear to be giving something but only to receive and that’s not really giving. And someone may be taking in a sense that they reveal their vulnerability to the giver which is a gift.

The girl I’m seeing has been great to me and I’ve tried to distance myself and not let her get too close. We have a great time together but I’m not giving her what she needs. After all that she’s given me she asked “what can I do different”. She’s willing to change, give. I’m not. I think I’m taking and I;m not proud of it.

I gizmo’d with Dexter and his parents today. I also VNC’d into their computer so that I could see the pictures that he was looking at locally. He kept saying “this is good, justin, this is good”. I agree it was great. I also booked a flight down to orlando/tampa to hang out with them next weekend. That will be good too.

Today I woke up in a good mood. Which is pretty impressive since I got fairly hammered last night. I hit a few happy hours on the way home from work and got pretty tall. The day is going to include a lunch with the X. I’m not sure how to feel about it. She know’s that I’ve been seeing someone and that’s going to be awkward for the both of us I’m sure. For the past year or so (since the release), I’ve had the mind set that if she wanted me back that I would go back and would be happy. Lately, I’m realizing that getting back together won’t make me happy. I don’t know how to be happy. I place shitloads of expectations on myself, none of which I ever live up to and that leaves a shadow on the happy times.

To prepare for this meeting, I asked for some space from the newbie and it’s safe to say that she’s pissed about it. I’m trying to keep focus on the fact that I need down time and deserve it and don’t owe her this time. It’s mine. I can’t fault myself for needing this. Here comes the self attack. I can fault myself for not calling her. No not really. I do a lot of things (in fact everything) out of a manufactured sense of obligation. You’d be surprised how much time I spend doing things that I feel I have to. Not the things that I want to. The only time I consistently do things that I want to is when I catch a good buzz. I want to know how to do that without the buzz. Is it worse for me to call her out of obligation? or not to call her because I don’t feel like it?

I think the answer is obligation would be the worst. She doesn’t want that. Is that pity?

My only obligation is to myself right now. Finding passion. Cultivating it. Enjoying it.

I come at life from a different angle than most. At least I think. I’m the normal horny 30+ year old (proabably not as “normal” as a few years ago but at the same time a few light years healthier). So I’ve go this paranoia about women these days though. One were all they want is not to be happy with who they’re with but to be happy, as they define it by they owns or not. I have been seeing this girl lately that is more in tune to what I think than most people I’ve ever met but what does that mean if I don’t love her. I just feel like a loser. I know that I’m not because I could probably impress a few but I don’t feel like I’m up to whatever I’m supposed to be.

Don’t have much to say. I’m just trying to force myself to post. When we bought this building, there were Landmarks Violations and the mortgage company held back 7.5k in Escrow. I’ve put a fair amount of work into removing those. It can be a frustrating process as the LPC was not very responsive for while. Luckily, though, the violations have been removed and we stand to get that money back. I’d be like the lottery if it wasn’t our own money. More like taxes. Anyway, the money’s pretty much ear (not land) marked for a floor replacement project so it won’t provide much breathing room.

I woke up yesterday morning with the intention of going to the office. I decided against due to weather and the fact that the tasks I had were home-accomplishible (in theory). After an hour or two I started feeling a bit chilly and checked the t-stat which indicated that indeed the temperature had dropped well below the setpoint. The pipes were not warm so I needed to go to the basement and check the furnace.

My first observations were that the circulator was running and the exhaust flue was open meaning it wasn’t a power or controls issue. Then I peaked under the furnace and noticed no pilot light. I followed the isntructions for relighting which confirmed that the gas was still turned on but the pilot wouldn’t remain lit. A friend of mine determinted that the thermocouple might have burned out. This is a device is installed in the path of the pilot flame and senses that there is flame. When it works and feels the heat it allows the pilot valve/flame to stay on. If it doesn’t work or doesn’t feel the heat, the pilot valve is shut so that gas doesn’t build up.

It was a quick fix. I think I went to the hardware store and installed it in about 45 minutes. The heat was back on and it started getting hot in here.
But I think I’ll keep my clothes on.

Oh, even though that was a quick fix, I didn’t accomplish many work tasks.

I stall on everything. It’s as if I’m deciding whether to skydive rather than to eat breakfast or do laundry. Somehow the simplest decisions conflict me. Then if and when I finally arrive at a conclusion I waver or am easily distracted from it. There’s reason for me to believe that it’s because I’m so concerned with not completing a task that I never begin it at all. Or it could be that I just have attention defecit. Or motivation deficit. Since I have the tendancy to be negative let me see if I can turn that around…..

I have a sloth abundance or distraction surplus.

Ok. That’s more positive.

Thanks. That helped. I think I’ll try to talk these things out here in the blog instead of up in the thought bucket. That just leads to spiraling.

One of my fears about digital music distribution showed it’s beady little eyes to me the other night. I was on the phone with my nephew (who was about to watch Amercan Idle, which I could post entirely but won’t) and he was telling me about the 80’s rock that he was listening to. He said his father used to listen to the stuff but so did I as his dad and I were quite tight back then. When he mentioned Dokken, Extreme and Van Halen, I asked which VH albums. His reply was that he didn’t know because he just had them on his sister’s iWhatever. I realized that I’ve fallen victim to that as well. Like with the White Stripes. My exposure to them has been mostly through my Rio Karma and I don’t know anything about the progression of any of the albums or even which albums belong to which songs (strike that flip it). An era has passed that I relished in. Where you’d name what track on what album this song or that song was? Which album was first? What personnel was on which album? I have a friend that can probably tell you the track number, album and year of any Zeppelin tune.
I guess this is similar to the album sides going the way of the LP and tape with the advent of the CD.
Oh well. Onward and outward.

I’m just going board this train of thought and see where I end up. Few people know how I really feel and think. I mask it even from the people close to me. I’m having this feeling that I’m afraid I was more concerned with keeping her than with letting her know what and who I am. You know, being a tough guy, not letting things get to me, ignoring fears and peeves. Perhaps being more free would have ended it soone which may have been a good or bad thing. I miss that I had someone that knew me so well and spanned a bunch of years (1/3 of my life) with. People tell me that people change or that they don’t really know what they want when they get together at the age we did. That’s probably the case here.
She wasn’t happy for a while and the thruth is that I probably wasn’t either. The difference is that she knew she wasn’t happy and knew that she was entitled to be. I didn’t and wasn’t.

I’m having trouble keeping my head straight. My mental stability is far greater than it was a year ago at this time but I’m still extremely anxious and run down and weak. My feelings have far too much control over my behavior than my intelligence. There’s a lot of internal strife where there needn’t be. There are many people that would love to be in my situation (that sounds familiar) but I can’t seem to appreciate it. Am I just selfish? Unable to appreciate what I have? Always feeling like something is missing? Or is it that I don’t want the things that I have? Should I be seeking something completely different?

It’s concerning that I’m so complacent about life. So hopeless. So reserved to status quo and unwilling to desire and achieve something. I’m letting a lot of opportunities pass me by just because I’m too lazy or afraid or wrapped up in my self manufactured misery.

I think I’m a little too enthusiastic about mediocrity (my own that is). It’s a safe place to hang. When you fall you don’t land as hard as when you’re shooting for the sky. Sort of a shame. Because I am privelaged I can get what I need without as much struggle. That’s the origin of my new battle cry. Helllllll Mabye!!!!

Haven’t written in a while and I don’t have an excuse. I’ve had stuff to write about. The night before my birthday, I went out to attempt an open mic. I had scoped the place out a few weeks before to make sure the talent wasn’t too brilliant and felt that I could maybe hold my own. So the eve of 32, I was sort of nervous, so much that I wasn’t sure if I’d actually get up there. So I drove there and left my guit in the car just in case I fagged out.
I sat at the bar for a drink or two and after a few minutes the gay (I mean guy) that reigned the seat next to me returned from his smoke. We ended up talking for a bit and it kept my mind off of the impending performance. He had ordered something to go from the kitchen so I figured he’d leave soon and I could be alone with my thoughts and so that the gorgeous bar tender wouldn’t think that I was tender. But the guy ended up hanging around and making it a little uncomfortable. Said something about wild turkey and anal penetration. Luckily, it was my turn.
I played my tune and a cover of Bill Withers “Use Me”. It went off ok, although I didn’t bring anyone who would have told me otherwise. There’s no doubt I must have looked awkward because I only remember staring right at the mic the whole time. I had some pretty positive response from the onlookers. Even during my song, so that felt good. I didn’t stick around too much after that.
I went down to Hank’s and watched Boondock Saints and enjoyed a few free shots of Jim Beam from the bar tender. Then when I left this guy that was sitting next to came out and accused me of taking his $10. I was a bit altered but I said “you think I need your $10″. He said, “I went outside and it was there and when I got back you were gone and so was the dough”. I said ‘Sounds like you need to be more careful with your money. You want me to show you I have no 10’s in my pocket’. He didn’t. When I got in the car I checked my pockets. I had a $10

This is one post that I wish I had the chops for. I’ll try to blog this without the usual inequities. In my celebration of last Thanksgiving it was my choice to stay alone this year and perhaps donate some time to help those less fotunate. As usual, I did no planning and only started offering my services this week. I have to say, it’s a lot more difficult to volunteer than I’d expect. I got one response last night (in the form of a “press release") that a new resty/cafe/bar in the lower east side was closing it’s doors and having a dinner for seniors and the needy. I showed up between the first and second seating and the atmosphere was not what I expected. I’ve volunteered before and there’s usually a frenzy of people who do this sort of thing once a year and are never fully equipped or prepared.

What I encountered was an extremely laid back set of people with a nice buffet set up in a sort of boozshwa with a 100% ABBA sountrack. The first thing people started doing (the volunteers that his) is start serving themselves up. I hadn’t eaten but I certainly wasn’t about to when there were needy people on there way. I was feeling more awkward than usual. So everyone’s eating ceptin me and some other girl and the perveyor of the place Svetlana (a 50+ year old Russian lady) suggests vodka shots for everyone (infused with lichee). This I was willing to accept as I figured the needy probably had already hit the sauce - very arogant, I know.

The needy came by while we were still sitting so we quickly got up and began our serving duties. For this sitting people came from a nearby shelter. It felt good to give these people some nice food and some attention. Felt good for me, I can only hope that they felt good too. Hungry/lonely people eating a nice turkey dinner (with killer stuffing by the way) to ABBA. I sat and talked to a few of the people and it convinced me further how everything is temporary. More about that stuff in another post - maybe.

The point here is that the hungry/lonely left, the ABBA go louder and it turned into and all out vodka party. Gay dude “dancing queen” with every chick in the place. Svetlana started getting super hammered and started dropping double entandres and innuendo. She was sexy and all but that’s it. She informed me that she lived in one of the most expensive hoods in BKLYN which is gated. Complements, I’m sure, to her x-husband, as was the place we were at. I took her up on an invite to her “studio” next door which was part of the build out of the joint. Still more innuendo. Upon our return to the bar, more vodka was flowing. Suddenly, gay man starts quizing me on who I want to go home with tonight. Svet, Viki, etc.

It was at this point that I realized that I’m sort of out of my elemene here in the city. I mean sure I want to get laid and, in fact, I probably stayed there after the recipients left because I wanted to see what my chances were. The truth of the matter is that I don’t value myself too much and so my being there was more to give me value than to prove my value. Like, if I cared about myself much, I’d be out with people I love and care about, right. (I’m talking about after the needy people left). So the fact that I’m hanging out means business. I I I I I I I I. Whatever. I’m sick of writing. In conclusion, this engagement was purely a marketing scheme (which I should have picked up with the “press” release). But the one good thing that came out of it is that the guy that set it up with svet is the organizer of this site stokedmentoring.org which seems like a good thing.

Well. I guess it’s been a year since she told me that she was done. The shit went down at Thanksgiving time last year. I’m expecting a better turkey day this year than last because I was a bloody wreck. I was pretty much on the couch for two days straight. I did get up on Thursday to volunteer some time and make me feel better (although it was time volunteered in the richest Brooklyn neighb). This year I’ve made the decision to spend it alone again. I have an urge to go spend it with my family and miss them to all hell cause I haven’t been there in 4 months. But I think the time will best be spent in solitude. Me and my thoughts. It can be a dangerous place because I’m still learning how to treat myself with a modicon of respect. It seems that my efforts to convince myself that things aren’t quite as shitty as I perceive have failed so far. Believe me, I understand that plenty of people wish they had my problems. Things could be a thousand times worse. But I just haven’t learned how to deal with what I have. My focus is on what I don’t. And because of my faulty self-image, the things I haven’t don’t motivate me. Time to find other things that I don’t have that do motivate me.

I love Brooklyn. I’m walking down the street contemplating what to do with my life. You know go out and shop around or stick with pasta and marinara. These are the things that occupy my mind these days. I’m not dodging insurgent fire or watching out for suicide bombers.

Anyway, I see this beautiful girl walking my way. My eyes were pretty fixed on her as she passed by (no return eye contact) and then I took the obligatory booty glance. As I turn back around I hear an older black dude in back of me,

OBD: “You think you could handle it”
I&I: “I’d like to think so but probably not” (not the truth)
OBD: “What’ve you got to lose? You got to use it while you can. You’re at a good age.”
I&I: “Use it while it still works, huh?”
OBD: “That’s right. Somewhere around 72 all you’ll be doing is saying good morning to your shoes. How old are you?”
I&I: “32 on Wednesday”
OBD: “I’m 82. Born in 1923. When I was your age I never had my pants on.”

The New York City Marathon happens to pass down the block from me in Brooklyn. So I figured I’d go out and cheer a few people on. The handicapped portion was pretty impressing. People “running” by with prosthetics, canes and of course the wheel chairs and chair bikes or whatever. So this girl from the ‘hood walks up to the corner I’m watching from intending to cross Lafayette Ave. As she hangs up the phone by saying “Oh it’s the marathon, I gotta go”, I hear her ask what are they walking or running for in the marathon. I try my best (which really isn’t that impressing) to ignore in hopes that I don’t have to respond to the question. But she catches my eye and asks “do you know what the marathon represents?”. I began this post with a cringe about how she didn’t know where it started. But as I grabbed the wiki link, I realized I had it wrong to. My version had the soldier running the wrong way.

Arrogant dick!

I’ve been instrospecting a bit lately. Well, more than usual anyway. It’s strange when you read, listen, live stuff that exposes you to yourself. There’s just been a few too many songs, books, web-sites and experiences this morning and over the past week or so for me to ignore.

I was told about this Czeck word Litost for which there is no direct translation into English. I don’t claim to understand it exactly but what I did take from it struck me. I heard of and excerpt from Milan Kundera’s novel ”The Book of Laughter and Forgetting” that described it as the sudden realization of the inherent imperfection of humanity by someone who walked through life in complete denial of that imperfection. A search yielded the following “Untranslatable directly into English, it simultaneously means: longing, sadness, irony and indifference.” This sort of explains the way I felt last year and still sometimes now. I wasn’t real receptive to my imperfections or the faults with my relationships, then I was forced to deal with a whole bunch of problems all at once. Hind sight is 20-20 but I would imagine that acknowleding and dealing with that stuff up front is something I could have benefitted from.

I’m reading a “The Unearable Lightness of Being”, also by Milan Kundera. The character Franz was with his wife for 23 years and upon deciding to reveal his 9-month afair is expecting her to brakedown. When she doesn’t he wonders why he waited so long. I never cheated or anything and I don’t know why I paid special attention to this, but I wanted to get it down so that I could think about it some more.

One last thing was a Post Secret entry where I can typically find a lot of suff I can relate to but this one clicked. I’m not nearly as desparate about life as this individual but I definitely noticed that sometimes I fill my time up with people/things/activities that don’t help me or help me avoid dealing with myself or my shit.

This is where I start realizing that I’m either not connected with the people I’ve chosen to connect with or that I’m completely disconnected with people. It’s not as easy as I’d thought to figure out. People talking about futures. Hopes. Dreams. Common interests. I don’t have those. I have one. I’m interested in what I’m interested in and no one else seems to be that way. Friend from a long time ago (good drinking buddy) talking about children, wife, house and future. I’ve been disconnected with that all of this time but still trying to connect under those constrains. Even that. They’re not contsratiants they’re opportunities if you want them. So dimsal this shit. Negativity. But that’s the way I feel them. I’m just passing through just like everyone else, only they’re making not the most but the most they can of it. I’m making much less than I can. I’ve never known someone with so much talent but such minimal result. Fear. Loser.

Here’s a quick one off. Need some work but my pops used to sing this song and I always thought it could be done with some real edge. Still looking for that edge. And some drum technique. And some level contol while recording.

Greenback Benjamins

The tragedy of life doesn’t lie in not reaching your goal. The tragedy lies in having no goal to reach. It isn’t a calamity to die with dreams unfulfilled, but it is a calamity not to dream…. It is not a disgrace not to reach the stars, but it is a disgrace to have no stars to reach for. Not failure, but low aim is sin.

Benjamin Elijah

(source-the aim low bit I caught out of the corner of my eye in a shop on Myrtle Ave. Found the full qoute here http://www.dailyinspiringquotes.com/goaltwo.shtml)

‘nuf sed

Saturday I stumbled across the most amusing word to pig latinate that I’ve heard: gayness

Bought myself some electronic drums. They’re fun. I’m not much of a time keeper but it helps me get this percussion out of me. I’m always walking around tappin’ shit and annoying people. It’s possible that this will quell that impulse but my guess is it’s just fuel for the fire.

I still need to set it up proper like but here’s a few photos

And here’s my first like not standard beat. As you’ll hear, I’m mesmerized by the hit hat clamp down pedal. It’s wet. I mean hot.

Pssst Pssst

I’m finishing a week here in San Deigo. It’s been a nice breather from real life. I rented a convertible and drove up the coast. Stopped at every beach on the way. Which is pretty uncharacteristic of me. I usually avoid beaches and complain about the sand. I’m a real dufus when it comes to that sometimes. I really enjoyed the day though. Just stopping on my way on a beautiful day listening to tunes and walking down the beach. Good alone time. Reflected a little. Not too much though. It’s really beautiful out here. I wonder how long that would work for me. If I’d miss the snow. The changing of the seasons. I always felt like I’d miss it but I don’t know anymore. I seem to be taking advantage of it the way I should. Going to the beach every day after work. Running along the beach? Very strange. Watching the sun set. But I’d like to take this chill factor back home with me. Treat life as I’m treating this ‘vacation’. Make the most of it. I need to rethink what the most is, but I should start with just doing stuff. Sounds like an obvious statement but for me, especially for the last few years, it’s not.
Me’s been thinking a lot about her on this trip. Missed opportunities, not being able to share this with her. Missed is not accurate, more like untaken. I can’t let that bog me down though. I have to enjoy these moments now because I can’t change the past and if I don’t enjoy them now they won’t be the past in the future. I guess now is the only opportunity to change the past that will be in the future.

Saw her for the first time in two months last night. I had to got pick up some remaining stuff. Pictures she used to have of us are gone. For some reason I was holding on to that. I suppose I’m not very realistic. We spent an hour or two together and talked about things going on with her. Not much about me. Sort of par for the course. That’s what I do. I’d rather fill the time with stuff about her instead of dealing with myself. I’m like a magician when it comes to changing the subject if the subject is me.
She told me about how she confronted her X from a decade and half ago. He was real bad to her. She nailed the dismount and was real proud of her self and I was too. She’s doing just fine. Living life.
I’m focusing on what’s not there and can’t see what is. I’m fine. I just feel like I’m taking a gaggingly mouth full bite of a shit sandwich when I wake up every morning. I’m fine. Job. Home. Mobility. The only thing that holds me to the pad is me and I’m pretty good at it.
We did talk about what I was doing with the place for a bit. I must have said something less than enthusiastic and she asked “you’re not excited about it anymore?”. I had to stop myself from asking “anymore?”. Figured that wouldn’t give any good results. I took this on because I thought it would keep us together. I realize now that it would take a lot more than this to keep us together. And of all shit that people do to try to save togetherdome (marriage, children, menage a trois) real estate has a pretty good upside.

Went back north this weekend to visit the family. It was Kari’s birthday almost too. Good to see all the players. Played in the pool. Didn’t have much to report to them ’bout the goings on of my life. Had some music to show them and they obliged.

Had one experience that convinced me I’m still not well. I was sitting by the steps and watching everyone play with M. T. who broke his collar bone and elbow. Bro, Kate, Ty and Kari in the pool. Chas throwing the ball back to them. Kris, M and Mom at the table. Everyone getting involved. Then I was watching D.J. do something and I just got down about what his life was going to be like. Came out of no where. He was laughing and having a good time but I still felt this way. I can’t imagine how bad I’d feel if he wasn’t healthy or something. Life should not be seen as a burden but I can’t seem to shake the notion. Certainly shouldn’t feel that way with how easy I’ve had it.

My pops decides to come to Brooklyn and hang out with his eldest son. He’s really getting into this biking thing which is good because he doesn’t really have any feeling in his legs and walking just won’t do. I’m glad he finally came up with the idea on his own because my previous suggestions of procuring a bicycle were shot down like a prototype plane pilotted by John Denver (no bullets required).

I was feeling a little under the weather (not the Irish Flu this time) but I couldn’t waste the 1 on 1 time, so I took him to my favorite wings joint.

A song comes on and I ask him if he listens to this particular artist.

‘Dem sez: “it sounds like a white Joe Jackson”

I search the synaps for a black Joe Jackson but the only Joe Jackson (associated with music) I can muster is

I and I: “the only Joe Jackson I know is white.”

‘Dem sez: “you know, the guy that was big last year with the tune about big feet or something”

I and I: “you mean ‘Bubbly Toes’ by Jack Johnson”

‘Dem sea: “I guess.”

I and I: “That’s who we’re listening to”

I’ve adopted the policy of making a concerted effort not to have direct communications with her. It’s against my instincts and truly impossible due to our financial interests. I just got the urge (one I’ve had a few times over the past few weeks) to just IM her and say what’s up. I don’t know if it’s me grasping at straws. Gasping for air? I don’t exactly know who this policy is aimed at. Me or her. I feel like it’s not fair for me to be contacting her. Giver space. It’s also to see if it does anything for me. I’m stubborn. So there’s actually a possibility that I won’t let go just because I’m stubborn. But it sure feels like I miss her and want to be with her.

I guess it’s been a week or two since I did this, but I wrote a song. Not that I’ve never come up with something, but this was the first time that I sort of came up with a guitar part and threw some ad-lib words and melody in and rode it out. I got three verses done and they sort of reflect my mood about life over the last half year or so. I put it down verse by verse onto the laptop. Real Ghetto. I’d changed the strings recently and never cut off the ends so you can hear them jingling around and then there’s the trucks going by outside the window. All the more reason I got to set up that box my brother put together for me. It’ll make the recordings better and I can multitrack.

The truth of the matter is that I chose to be miserable. I’ve been doing it for decades now. I make everything a struggle. I make big deals about mistakes. I have to learn to hike up the skirt and quit getting so caught up in shit. Let moods come and go. React to them, work through them, stop avoiding them, stop denying them.

This is a post that probably could have been made a million times since November 22, 2004. I’ve been avoiding it. I miss her. It hurts. I don’t cry (but I should). I hate (mostly me). I miss. I want. I wish. I think. It doesn’t compute. I’m lost. I hope. But I know.

I know it can’t work the way it was. I know that nothing has changed to make it work now. But I can’t accept that it isn’t.

Life can suck. I understand that there are worse places to be, worse things to feel, worse hands to be delt. None of it makes this feel better. Instead of being happy with what I have I wish that I was in the worse places, feeling worse and wanting to throw the good cards down that I’ve been delt. Because I think that the pain in doing so will make me forget that which I feel now. But it wouldn’t. I’m going to feel this way until, if ever, I figure out how not to.

I’m on my way back to back to Brooklyn after a weekend up North. I’m going to stop in Stamph to visit with some friends and I’d like to bring a bottle or two of wine. There’s this local wine shop on the way to the highway that has a nice selection. I’ve always had difficulty with proof at this place. Not like 151 proof, but ID proof. When I was about 26, I went there to stock up for a party, something for Kait or Beck, I think. I had cases and cases of beer and bottles of wine. Not the, I’m underage and I’m going to buy all the Natty Light or Pabst that I can. This was some premium microbrew and the such. Short story long, they wouldn’t accept my license as proof because it said dupe on it. So my dad had to come down and proof out.

Well, I go back to this place on the way back to New York. I put the two bottles on the counter and the guy asks for ID. I hand over my NY license and he asks if I have anything else from New York. I’m 31 now and I probably look young (especially with my new flowbee hair cut) but 21? Come on. Not quite understanding, I ask him what he’s looking for. “Is your car parked out front?” I told him my NY plates were out there on the van.

Ok so I drive a caravan. It’s a company car. But that’s besides the point, if I’d driven my parents car there, I’d be denied because they don’t have NY plates.

When the guy comes back in he’s got a little smirk and says “That’s you? In the van? A guy like you?”

Was he taking a shot at me?

Ok. So there’s a good chance that I’m being stalked here. I helped a few girls change a tire out in front of the building and let me tell you it by not too far the second hardest tire I’ve ever changed in my life. It got to the point where I was struggling so much with the lugs that they wielded the phone with some auto service. At this point of desperation I took immediate action to try to salvage my machismo. I placed the wrench on the lug in the most horizontal position I could and mounted it. Yep. I just hopped up on the end of the wrench and started bopping up and down. It took a good two or three bops before I heard a frightening metallic sound the assured me something irreperable had resulted. Turns out that it was just the lug losening and I was able to change the tire but that’s not my purpose here. It’s always good to start a blog with an aside.

So these three friends invited me for a beer across the street at the bar (the one they live above), to which I declined at first then acquiesced after coming up with not a single respectable excuse.

That Saturday, I found a guest check (bill from the resty across the way) with a note of interest from one of the ladies. (this has the potential to be a 10,000 word blog). This was a bit unexpected but she wanted to “get to know me better.” So I ran into her the next week and we talked a bit which prompted her to leave another rain soaked note on the windshield.

I gave her a call and we met. Had some dinner, went into the city, played some pool had an ok time. At the end of the night, there was a conversation about wanting to get involved and I explained my position. It’s pretty clear that I’m still more than slightly attached. But this isn’t half as a deterant as the fact that we live directly across the street from each other. It didn’t end up too pretty. She pushed and pushed and said something that struck me as funny. According to her, I was too confident a person for her to feel that she should even leave a note on my windshield. Hasn’t she been reading this blog? maybe I should send her the link. After I dropped her at place (litterally 150′ away) I went home to take a leak. Afterwhich I got a call from her. Basically had to get a little more stern and end the coversation.

Next morning, on my way to work after taking a walk around the car to ensure no tires are slashed, I get a call and a texty that explained how sad she was. That very night, I get a call from her inviting me to an awards show. I declined based on the mornings events and I guess that was it.

So I received a few more calls and texties to which I respond sparingly. Then I see her at the place across the street after a real long day this week. She was dizzzecked izzzout. Sweet looking suit skirt thing that was just made for her. I think to myself, remember she’s a little psycho. And she’s offering up things that I didn’t know were out there and I have to keep telling her about the proximity effect. To the point where she’s asking if I’m gay and I have to remind her again that if things go sour then we show up in this bar together and there’s some serious cringe in the air. Again, after we goodbye, I get a call with another plea.

So I get another texty the next day telling me good morning sunshine. And another today saying that there’s a Frank Sinatra photo she saw that she thought was me.

I don’t know what’s going on here. I feel like I’ve already been a bit of a dick by not returning calls and texties but how bad does this girl want to be treated? Seems like the dish towel treatment is what she’s looking for.

I woke up on Monday and couldn?t quite figure out why I keep doing it. Waking up every morning. Feels like it?s just a habit. I have no passion, no drive, very little will, no motivation. It sort of sucks. I told this to the tool, and somehow it got turned into whether I was honest with myself or not and then whether I connect with people or not. Turns out I probably don?t. I can?t even get angry with him. I have this fucking aversion to conflict and expressing negative feelings towards someone not necessarily because of how it?ll make them feel but because I can?t deal with the tension. And furthermore, because I don?t feel like they can accept a negative evaluation or comment. And even furthermore, the reason I don?t feel like they can deal with it is because I can?t deal with it. I project that on to them. So why is it that I can?t deal with a negative comment on me. Is it because I question the judgment of the other person? Or is it because I?m not up to the challenge that it presents? And what do I do with that evaluation that they suggest? I modify myself to make sure it doesn?t happen again. I change myself. What?s so bad about me that I have to change because someone thinks differently about me than I do (or did before they said something). I can?t be that horrible can I. Well I guess I can because I?m only human. And what?s so terrible about being horrible? Nothing if you?re ok with that. But wouldn?t that be great to tell someone that you?re mad at them or that they?ve disappointed you and you work it out and become better people, not necessarily that either one of you changed but that you discussed it openly and honestly and came to the conclusion that it no matter what you still meant a lot to each other?

I?ve had this feeling like I was a lot stronger back when I was 18. Now that?s not the way it?s supposed to go. If you make use of the years hear on Earth it shouldn?t make you weaker. At least not in my case where I haven?t had a tragic stay here so far. Maybe it?s the tragedy that makes you stronger. But it?s the only reason that I could accept getting weaker. So I started to think that maybe I?m weaker because I don?t stand my ground. This is wrong though. Standing your ground isn?t strength. Strength is found in facing the truth, evaluating and changing if you need to. That?s what I lack. I?m going to get to work on that.

I’ve got this weird reaction to just about everything except for the drink in front of me. Whereas, most people, I believe, may have a desire or a whim which they actually consider or even act on, I have developed this recoil to (or from) these ideas. I’m talking about material things mostly but it also applies to diversions, excursions, aspirations, relationships, eating, enjoyment, intraspection blah blah blah. It does not seem to apply to listening to music, playing music, inanely surfing the internet and imbibing the sweet nectre of the gods. It appears to be moderate to severe self-destructive behavior that isn’t getting me anywhere. There are a few possible explanations for this.

1) I’m just a complete loser-but unless I have an unlimited supply of wool to pull over peoples eyes then I’m going to have to trust the people that tell me I’m not.

2) I’m too afraid of living which means taking action, making mistakes, recovering and getting back on that bike and riding again. This sort of fits in with a revelation that I had a few weeks ago. I never consider a positive outcome to things. For instance if I want something there are two options that I consider. i) I go for it and don’t get it and that sucks, ii) I don’t go for it and don’t go for it and don’t get it and that’s ok. The third option that doesn’t enter my field of vision is that I go for it and get it.

Here I go again, I’m just an idiot. I can’t finish. Really should delete this but I know I have to post it.

Don’t know where to go here. I’m ending the day listening to a song that my brother really pimped to me and I’m down with it. I have a lot of stuff to post here but I’m uninspired. I probably just broke blog rule number one don’t edit what you write. Leave it to the train of thought. I just deleted a few lines because I didn’t have the courage to post them just yet. It’s a process.
I know this much. I think the IMs that I had with my brother and the conversation I had with my sister are a good start. We’ll unravel this stuff eventually, but not before a whole lot of blood, sweat and tears. We’ll come out of it stronger, wiser and more healthy. Or dead.
Anyway, since blogging isn’t real natural to me just yet, I’m going back to learning this song.

Had a real nice visit from crew belmont this weekend. Matt, Mariel and Dexter made concer(n)ted effort to get here to Brooklyn, which was much appreciated.
People keep offering to come down and give me a hand with the place but I haven’ t found the inspiration yet and when I secure a potential visitor my mind wanders to taking them out and showing them the neighb (although it’s more a ‘hood).
So when I told people that I’d be having my brother down, they suggested I put him to work. In fact, when told that he was visiting madre propositioned that we could really get some work done on the place. M-unit suggested that the realit was that Matt may not be the motivator in the home improvement area of interest.
Just as well. Blood and I were able to hang in the uninhabit(ible)ed section of the pad and pass some nectar and go over some essential shit. I know I got some shit out that I couldn’t with anyone else, even my narcoleptic tool of a therapist.
The thing about it is I’ve been able to turn to the sib for a while now and he’s provided me with a ton of guidance and support. I just hope that I’ll be able to bounce it back to him some day.
So not much to show on the home improvement front this weekend unless you count my head as my home. Which it is. And it wasn’t so much improvement cause I don’t feel all that much better. It was more like demo. Of the the notions. The fears. The hate.

Brooklyn is the bomb. I’m much more of a voyeur than I give myself credit for. While i was sitting at the kitchen table working, a cab pulled front and center in the view of my window. As it was raining out, the half openned back window caught my attention. Through the window I noticed the man in the back was resting his head on the passenger to his left. This seemed odd for a Wednesday at 6:30PM. As the other man and women paid the fare, the corpse came to life (well, not exactly life) . He tried getting out of the cab and made opening a cab door look more difficult than solving the rubiks cube with no arms. Maybe the door was locked? Suddenly, he became quite frantic and I could tell time was running out. As he began to spill all over himself and the cab I thought it such a shame that the windows only went half-way down. That extra 4.5 inches would have made the difference. His friend finally made it around to this side of the cab and openned the door (guess it wasn’t locked) in time for the last few heaves. At this point the cabbie was none too happy, but they jumped back in the cab and took off. Regurge and paper towels securely stuck to the pavement I think to myself, I know I’ll be sweeping those rags off my side walk.

An hour later, the rain has stopped but I’m still working. I notice the two other passengers at the bar across the street enjoying a cigarette at the outdoor seating. The party must go on.

I hope they tipped that cabbie well.

Every year, my best friend from high school gets a bunch of people together to do an MS Walk (http://www.nationalmssociety.org/) in honor of his sister who has the disease. We typically walk it up in Portsmouth, NH, but since the P-Town walk was on a Sunday this year, we felt that it would curb our post walk bar crawl. Instead we walked down in Newburyport, MA on a Saturday with the intent to go up to P-town afterwards.

So I figured I’d contact a friend of mine name C. King and his wife Regina (the Queen). Unfortunately, when I mentioned that we’d be walking on Saturday he said that he wouldn’t be in town. We decided that it was too bad but that there’d be other opportunities.

The walk was beautiful. Nice weather. Nice old historic houses. Oh, and my sister showed up and walked with us. She and I had an opportunity to talk about some stuff that we haven’t taken the time for in a while.

After the 6-mile trek we headed north to Hew Nampshire. Upon arrival, my buddy and I had to secure some beer funds at the ATM. As we’re walking down the street, I see a familiar face and I blurt “Regina” as she walks past. My buddy thought I’d been stricken with turrets syndrome. But after an uncomfortable couple of strides away from us, the girl recognized her own name and turned around. Turns out the Queen and King were in town for the night and staying at the same hotel as me.

We ended up partaking in some Pabst pitchers for $5 at a pool joint and the Regals got along right good with my other friends. And as it turns out, my friends from the walk introduced me to the person that introduced me to the King and Queen.

I went to a Citizen Cope (http://www.citizencope.com/) show at a place called Rothko in the lower east side with a friend of mine who wanted to stand up front.

A group in front of us had really enjoyed the day and already had a fine shine on. One thing I should explain about my friend is she can get pretty nasty when mixed with certain people. She and I were standing far enough apart as to indicate that it was appropriate to walk between us and perhaps make lewd gestures. So one of these hammered dudes walks between us, looks up to her and stick his tongue in and out a few times at her. After closing my eyes in astonishment, I looked at him to see if he was knocked to the floor yet. Then I looked at my friend to see if she had lunged for his jugular yet. Out of pity mostly, she refrained from any physical response. To say the least this created a little static, so as the show started I tried to stand between my friend and City Licker so as to reduce her exposure to his very impressive display of retardancing. Regardless of the tempo he maintained a quick pace.

Between songs, his friend tried to strike up some dialog with Cope (whose real name is Clarence Greenwood). He would yell things like ?we really appreciate this Cope?. ?We love you Cope you?re the best?. The uncomfortable thing is that he kept waiting for a response between catcalls to which Cope did not oblige. Then he leans over in front of me to ask his friend what Cope?s real name was. I asked the straight man if he realized that loverboy would be yelling that out after the song was over. He realized his error and the next time the loverboy asked (because of course he forgot it) straight man gave him a phony answer.

Later on, as I was fighting my way back to the front, I ran into City Licker again and decided since he was so polluted that he could probably clear a path for me as he staggered back to the front. When we got back I we had the following conversation.
ME: ?Thanks for blocking?
CL: ?it?s all cool, sorry about my friend it?s only his second time on extacy?
ME: (to self) ?That explains a lot?
ME: (to him) ?H seems to be enjoying it?
CL: ?Yeah, man. You know something, you?re my brother from another mother?
you?re my brother from another mother?.
CL: ?if he bumped into you while I?m dancing just push me away.?
No less than a minute late he steps on my foot and turns to me
CL: ?Feet don?t count?

This is the name of a new service here in NYC that will deliver three chef-prepared gourmet meals to you by 6 AM. This probably works out perfectly for people who don?t mind getting up in the morning.

I was in a zone today. I worked the morning at a job site in midtown and solved a few problems and made a delivery of parts to someone in need and met a former co-worker (pretty much a mentor for me when I started here). While I was up there I ran across about 7 people that I?d worked for on my big project two years ago. It was good to see them and it didn?t look like I had pissed them off too much when we last worked together. Then after lunch I headed downtown to fix some communications problems at another job site. The whole day I was on top of stuff and had great interest in the things I was doing and the roles I was filling. I was in a Zone today.

In fact, I hope this Zone continues because I am leaving now for some night work.

The main thing that made me want to get this out is the fact that I need to find a way to enter a Zone in my life. If I could attack my life like I attacked things today I wouldn?t get so discouraged. I probably expect myself to be at this level all of the time, which I know is unrealistic. But this feels alive. I don?t feel that way all of the time. A similar feeling comes to me after playing guit. That?s a good sign that I?m in the right business because I know guit is a positive thing for me.

So, if these chefs could cook up something to bring on this zone I found myself in today, then I?d pony up the $40/day. But for tonight, I guess it?s left over pizza and guacamole Doritos.

An interesting thing happened to me yesterday. Very much like when the sun shows itself during a storm. I was driving down the road and experienced a sense of confidence and possibly even hope. The unfortunate part of this experience is it’s frequency and the polar feeling that fills between the peaks, if what I sensed can be called a peak. I’m pretty sure that how I saw things during this stretch of pavement is the “way it’s supposed to be.” I’m not sure what brought it on but I’d sure like to bottle whatever it was. The other thing that I wasn’t able to identify is what made it go away. I think it stuck around for an hour or two. The trip was a few hundred miles so I was in the car for a while.

Was it something that I ate?
3 cups of coffee, 1 venti *$ vanilla latte (free coupon), ginger sesame sandwich

Well, I don’ think it’s the coffee. I have coffe every day. I’m hoping it’s not the latte because in that case, I can’t afford to feel this way very often. Maybe I’ll just stick to the ginger and sesame. That should be doable.

Was it something I did?
Laundry, washed my apartment windows, went to Central Park to see that gates debacle, spent time with the X, missed 3 subway trains and had to run a mile to get home in time for my trip?

I’ve done laundry before. Never helped much. It’s difficult to imagine that missing trains would make you think you could conquer the world. I’ve spent the last 9 years with the X, without long stretches of this view of the world. So that means, my solution could be to work as a window cleaner (which I’ve considered before) and get some orange shower curtains.

I guess I’ll have to file this search for clarity as another work in progress. I call them delusions of adecquacy because until these delusions become and outlook instead of a passing hole in the sky then the adecquacy cannot reveal itself.

Here’s entry number one. I’m going to have to make some progress with this blog stuff. My impression of it is that it should be a flow of consciousness type thing but I have very turbulant flows and I’m not sure how conscious they are.

I guess the first thing that I’ll mention is that this page has been up for almost a year and I felt it was time get my blog on. I was inspired by reading a few entries of friends and family. And while I’m sure I have a lot to say I’m sort of the closed up type that doesn’t let too much get out. You might call it paranoid. You might be right. I’m afraid it will take me some time to get comfortable with bearing myself like I’ve seen in some of the blogs out there. And this is only confirmed (as is my trouble with flow) by the fact that I keep reading back and wanting to change things that I’ve already written.

I’m sure there’s nothing cliche about talking about your first blog in your first blog. That’s it I can’t take it anymore. Click Publish!