Sanctimonious Indulgence

Thank you, Laura

2009-01-19T22:17:00.000-08:00

I love NPR. I listen to it on the radio, and I download just about every podcast I can find. Today I found that I had somehow missed a podcast subscription to, “Radio Diaries.” I immediately downloaded everything iTunes had to offer, hit play, and settled in to do my Math homework.

“My So-Called Lungs: Laura Rothenberg is 21 years old, but, as she likes to say, she already had her mid-life crisis a couple of years ago, and even then it was a few years late…. “

I half listened to the narrators’ introductory description, as I began to write out my math problems. In the typical dramatic tone the narrator continued to explain how Laura has cystic fibrosis, “a genetic disorder that affects the lungs and other organs,” and that she had recorded her struggle via a tape recorder. Her story began at 11:02 pm, in room 104 of her hospital. She briefly mentioned her years of experience with the comings and goings of the hospital, its procedures, and staff. She seemed very light hearted and knowledgeable, as she told of her early childhood dealings with CF, and her childhood friends. Then the tone of her tale began to lilt, as she listed off the friends she has lost, Gina at 13 years old, Damien at 17 years, Niki, Tamesha, Elizabeth, Sophie in 11th grade, and Marcie “this past summer.”

Seduced by her sadness, candor, humor, and honesty, I listened with undivided attention. I will not attempt to recapture, or distil, the tale I listened to for those 22 minutes. I will say that I wept, I wept like I haven’t wept in years. This young woman faced her death at every turn. In the face of this great adversity, she did everything she could to live, and experience, a “normal” life. My heart went tight as I heard the anger and sadness Laura’s frail voice held, as she explained her frustration with being stuck in her room (she was 19 years old) while her friends went to parties and plays. “Unfair’ doesn’t even come close to describing it.

It often becomes a laughable cliché when a person, or persons, tell their tale in an effort to touch the world around them. Sometimes these brave souls find a chink in our egocentric armor, and they get inside. It’s that place within us all, sealed up by years of mind numbing cynicism. Those few that get in gently touch our naked humanity, as if they know how tender and soft we are on the inside. And Laura Rothenberg's story touched me deeply. I looked online to find a way to help, to send a donation perhaps, and hopefully to say thank you. But I found Laura had died, on March 20th 2003, after just turning 22. The podcast, was a re-broadcast.

So, I am going to donate to the Children’s Hospital Trust, in her name. It’s the least I can do, and it’s my way of saying thank you. Thank you so much, Laura.

The Death of Innatism

2008-11-26T15:04:00.000-08:00

Yes, I started a new blog. This was not to hide from the few readers of this opinionated, egocentric, and impromptu soapbox you see before you. Rather, it was because without change all things become prematurely decadent, and fade away. Of course, there is nothing more pathetic that the walking dead…I see them everyday. As I cling tightly to the bosom of revolutionary evolution, I cannot help but look back at some of these posts with a sense of embarrassment and shame. I believed the past writings contained herein, were limiting, in some way. Thus, the blog “Innatism” was born! A name chosen with much forethought. Although I do not believe in an innate knowledge embedded in the mind at birth, I do believe in a retained knowledge after a psychological or existential re-birth. (But I digress; these are undoubtedly topics of future posts.) I now see the beauty of a once simple mind in the continual transcendence of self. Thus, as I continue in my aspirations to become something perpetually greater than myself, I will lay waist to innatism, and rekindle the dying embers of this forgotten blog. This is not a return to the ethics of the past, my dear readership, but the creation of a literary individual evolution.
Vis-à-vis, it will be on these distant shores of Sanctimonious Indulgence, that you may hear my Re-birth cry from time to time.

“TABULA RASA!!!”

The Journey

2008-11-26T14:14:00.001-08:00

SANITY. RATIONALITY. CONFORMITY. THESE ARE BUT THE FLOTSAM AND JETSAM OF A DYING CULTURE. YOU FIND NO DEFINITIONS, YET STILL YOU SEARCH. IT IS ONLY WITHIN THE PURSUIT ITSELF THAT YOU WILL FIND MEANING. IT IS ETCHED ON YOUR VERY BEING, IT IS THE HUMAN CONDITION, AND IT IS THE ONLY THING OF CONSEQUENCE.

College

2008-11-26T14:13:00.001-08:00

If there is to be a downfall in my college career it will either be due to a lack of a job (i.e. income) or MATH. A friend once told me that math is the only thing that makes sense in this world, he said that it is the one place where 1 and 1 will always equal 2. He said this with such reassurance, and I believe that this prospect truly brings him a sense of peace.

“Math: It brings order to the world.”

Perhaps that is why I hate it so. This world has never been equal or balanced! Contrary to these plastic man made beliefs, which inevitably decay by our own design. Although your inner child, or perhaps your inner adult, may cry out “that’s not fair”, please allow me to state my case.

Tartak, Anammelech Ashima, Succothbenoth. Ra, Odin, and Zeus all held the absolute truth. These all but forgotten gods told their people that 1 and 1 would always equal 2. The people devoted learning institutions, languages, even their very lives to these beings in the faith of their omnipotent equations. Where are they now? Crushed and lost under the wheel of time. Truth be true, they each had a part to play in the development of mankind. But at what cost? As the world was once flat, the square route of pie IS 1.772453851. The world is in a constant state of flux, a flux that no prideful mammal with opposable thumbs could ever fathom. Now the fruits of math may be seen on the face of your clock, or the face of a child burned by a radioactive fallout. Math brings me no peace; the price you see is too high.

There was a time when the new moon was the only thing that held the darkness of night at bay. The bright moonlight forced the creatures that would come for us to be seen, but as the waning crescent took to the sky’s we knew our place in the world. Mythic things would take you in the dark, right? It was a time to fear, a fear of the unknown, a time to fear the chaos of our world. It was a time when 1 and 1 didn’t equal 2. So you can keep your cultural security blanket, I know that some times the shit in this life doesn’t add up.

Oh, be sure to tell me what the mathematical probability of being eaten by a lion would be when you hear the jaws SNAP shut around your throat. Never mind I am sure we will work that one out next week in class.

Then again, it could be that whole job/money thing.

Workamphetamine

2008-11-26T14:12:00.001-08:00

We shuffled into the factory the next morning. I would have rather stayed in bed, but they have money and pills at work! Its better when I’m at work. When I stay home I usually just masturbate, but not too fast. No, I take my time…hours if need be. I wait until I find the perfect, and free, 30 second pornographic video clip. Only then do I allow myself to cum. Discipline, my friend. After that there really isn’t much else to do. Now that’s no way to live day in and day out! Some of you think that’s a horrible reason to go to work, but you’re poor, no one wants to be your friend, and people don’t admire you…you people wouldn’t understand.
Fuck you! Fucking judgmental pieces of shit!

Besides, they let me out for three to four ours every evening…sometimes. You tell me how the hell I am supposed to buy all the stuff I need without money!

How asshole, tell me?

Oh I see, so my family can think I’m a failure, so I can take someone out on a date in my GEO Metro and bring them back to my 400sq. ft. apartment on the west side and hope that they don’t throw up with disgust!?! So I can be like you?! No one would even want to know my name if that’s all I brought to the table as an active and contributing member of society. Maybe I could eat out of dumpster and beg for spare change too, only to be told by every single person that they “don’t have any cash” or all they have on them is “credit cards”.

You must be fucking insane.

The pills? Lord knows I need the pills. Without them I don’t move, I don’t want to, I can’t…I tried once, and that was enough for me to see the light. The company knows what’s best. They have to care for a thousand other employees. You don’t take care of that many people and not know what’s best for them. Besides, the CEO said “good morning” to me when we crossed in the bathroom yesterday. I’m on my way up!!

Want to hear a true story? They don’t like us to talk about it but…

Last year the company almost went under when they handed out antidepressants before our shifts started. It took a while for them to realize that it wasn’t depression that was affecting our productivity, but rather an acute inability to focus. I am glade they realized it before it was to late. It’s good to know they are looking out for me. Who knows what I would have done if left to my own devices.

There has been some crazy talk going on around here lately.

I have heard some of them whisper as they huddle in around the water cooler at lunch that it could be the job that has forced us to loose our humanity, and that it is the lose of our humanity which makes us indifferent to life in general…or something like that. I don’t know. I honestly can’t really hear what they are saying exactly, I have so much work to do, bits and pieces to count, and a good work reputation to justify. I am a hard worker! If what was ruining our work ethic wasn’t what they said it was…then why do I always get so much done now?

I don’t like to think the other way. Nothing good ever comes of it.

Sometimes when I do my left arm goes numb, and it feels like someone is slowly dragging a frozen knife across the top of my skull. It’s cold, so cold when that happens, it passes though. Although sometimes I want to scream and smash my head against the wall, but that would be crazy, and I’m not crazy. It’s not painful mind you, but every fiber of my being wants to bust with some inexplicable rage. A calm rage…if there is such a thing. No, no that’s wrong. It’s more like a time elapsed tree growing inside me, and it’s all I can do not to let its branches explode from my body.

I go through the rest of the day working frantically, hoping that I get enough done to please my superiors. After all, it is their clock that tells me when I come to the factory in the morning, when I go home. They will let me know when it’s okay to fall in love, settle down, and start a family. I don’t have to worry about when it’s alright to sleep, or get sick. When I can die or make new friends. Who has time for that anyway?

You know what I mean…don’t you?

It Doesn't Matter

2008-11-26T14:10:00.000-08:00

Evolution, growth, development is never a pleasant experience. It seems that the fruits of “change” are all to often brought forth by the ugly hand of pain. Our own masochistic selves are often the protagonists in the development of Life’s individual and stagnant chrysalides to move forward. We feel drawn in by the dangerous and volatile nature of the real and fictitious life around us. We are complacent in our modern day existence, but our primal urges seek an unconscious destruction that knows no bounds. In our happiest moments we squint into the dark parts of our lives, anticipating the imminent destruction of our current euphoria. Why? Why must suffering entice us so?

The fact is that mankind is a broken and bloated animal. We are lions without a pride, so we cheat on our wife’s. There is no hunt for our sustenance; so scowling we swim the infested waters of Wal-Mart. The pain of our fellow man does not concern us as much as the window attendant at MacDonald’s forgetting the fries in our #6. The word “strife” has lost its meaning and potency for us all. You may think me a pompas and arrogant voice, but I assure you that I am no different than you in this unequivocal decline. At the core of us all is the innate desire to tear our fucking world apart, just to provide and opportunity to overcome…ourselves. It’s lonely at the top! And so our minds and actions over complicate the world around us, our pride forces a new injurious paradigm with every enlightened step forward. Think about this; the select few who strive to become something more or to show us a better way are vilified and idolized within the same breath.

We lack, nah, we necessitate desperation. And if the reliance of our desperation is misplaced in the hands of another we are all too quick to take on the obligation and thrash ourselves.

I would not give you the “truth” if I had it. If I could give you this “truth” I speak of, you would simply wipe your ass with it. Later you would hold that filthy thing up for the entire world to see, and tell them what a flawed and disgusting thing I have given you. Oh yes, another tainted testament to the evolution of human enlightenment. I can think of only one thing that may give you some temporary solace: Temporary, for your pride would never let it take hold in your mind.

It doesn’t matter, all your pain and suffering. It doesn’t matter.

Richard Cory

2008-11-26T14:07:00.000-08:00

by Edwin Arlington Robinson, 1869-1935

Whenever Richard Cory went down town,

We people on the pavement looked at him;
He was a gentleman from sole to crown,

Clean favored, and imperially slim.

And he was always quietly arrayed,

And he was always human when he talked;
But still he fluttered pulses when he said,

“Good-morning,” and he glittered when he walked.

And he was rich—yes, richer than a king—

And admirably schooled in every grace:
In fine, we thought that he was everything

To make us wish that we were in his place.

So on we worked, and waited for the light,

And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,

Went home and put a bullet through his head.

2008-04-12T15:11:00.001-07:00

“Like the wind crying endlessly through the universe, Time carries away the names and the deeds of conquerors and commoners alike. And all that we are, all that remains, is in the memories of those who cared we came this way for a brief moment.”

--Harlan Ellison

Operation Valentines Day

2006-03-02T10:45:00.000-08:00

Blood shot across the white pre-warmed hospital blanket that covered my legs.
“Oh, I am so so sorry Mr. Saunders” She cried.
It must have been the blood and the look of horror on her soft face that triggered my unexpected and abrupt burst of laughter, causing me to spray spit and snot all over myself. As I finished wiping the last of my face off with my hospital gown I watched with nervous tension as this peripheral butcher moved in on yet another one of my veins with her 100% sanitary 16-gauge needle with built in IV catheter.
“Happy Valentines Day” She chuckled as she slid in a second needle.
Yes…I suppose it was Valentines Day wasn’t it...
As I slowly lay back in my pre-op hospital bed and thought to myself “If God simply has a sense of humor…then Cupid must be Groucho fucking Marx.

Weird Five

2006-01-30T11:47:00.000-08:00

Hobbes saw fit in his infinite wisdom to “tag” me. I am usually the guy that speaks his mind regardless of repercussions or others opinions, but I found myself in a bit of a dilemma…I don’t find anything weird. So I surmised what others might find “weird” and of course altered my original list in a desperate attempt to keep you all from having horrific and uncontrollable nightmares for the rest of your lives. So if you find this list boring I apologize, and if not…enjoy.

1) When purchasing movies having sequels I always fight (and lose) the uncontrollable urge to purchase the remaining films simply for aesthetic purposes. Most of the time this is complete waste of money due to the fact that many sequels are shit that I will never even watch. (i.e. Batman and Robin, Batman Forever)

2) Even though I live alone and I am male I feel the uncontrollable compulsion to put the toilet seat down after every use. Yes, I still pee standing up.

3) Although I detest “fast food” I find myself eating Chick-fil-a at random stressful moments. It’s odd but in some strange way I do it because it reminds me of the peace and utter contentment I felt so long ago, as I sat on my couch ate Chick-fil-a, and watched the entire first season of Battlestar Galactica.

4) When getting ready to go out I will put together the possible outfits for the evening and lay them out. Then I will look at myself in the mirror after I put on each article of clothing. Finally I will get back in front of the mirror once the entire outfit that I have decided to go with is on…but I don’t look at the outfit…I look deep into my own eyes for around 30 seconds. I don’t know why I do this…I just do it.

5) Every morning I feel panicked unless I grab my goods and make sure they are still there. I have fought this urge before and it has ruined my state of mind for the whole day.

There are more but…

The Devil went down to Baker Street

2006-01-26T09:43:00.000-08:00

Those who are familiar with Holmesian lore know of Baker Street all to well. I on the other hand know of another Baker Street…Baker Street Pub that is. While this Houston bar my have been inspired by the famous residents of 221B Baker Street its inhabitance bear no resemblances, although you could probably find a heroin junkie or two. The night had picked up after some stimulating conversation combined with mass amounts of barley and hopps, which had left my bladder ready to burst. I excused myself and ran to the men’s room fighting the urge to clutch my genitals for fear of pissing my pants.
Upon my return to the drunken hedonism that I had left just minutes before the live band kicked out a semi-punk rock version of Wham’s “Careless Whisper” out through the speakers next to my head. Now I never really liked the original version of the song but the prepubescent fuckers jerking off their guitars was starting to induce a vomitous reaction, so without a moment’s hesitation I fled blindly back to my table. With a heavy and relieved sigh I crashed my ass back into what I thought was my chair but upon opening my eyes I was assaulted by a barrage of both enhanced and non-enhanced breasts (these were no hounds of the baskervilles mind you). “Surly these are not my friends, and surely I am not that drunk” I thought to myself. I heard Carl’s voice behind me and realized that I had mistakenly sat down at the table full of girls that we were ogling moments ago. A smile slowly crept across my face as I decided to give these girls a run. The flirting went on ubiquitously for some time until one of the surgically enhanced girls leaned in and told me of her desire to have a ménage a trios with her, Carl, and myself. This of course was not a possibility as my dear friend Carl had recently married plus the fact that I was way to drunk to fuck, Shortly there after the girls left disappointed. I would like to think that they found some comfort in the arms of one another later that night…yeah I really like that thought.
It was near closing time and after some botched attempts at luring young women and an unfortunate mishap with a tranny Carl and I decided that we should move along to greener pastures. We were both on the verge of blowing a 2.1 but Carl felt confident that he could brave the insane streets of Houston at 1:00 in the morning. So we loaded into his pimp daddy Lexus and began our travels once again.
There is a moment no matter how intoxicated you are when you look at your drunken friend/friends (whom in this case was driving) and you hope you aren’t as utterly shit faced as they are. You sit a little straighter and try to compose yourself as you watch the others lose themselves in their euphoria…my moment came after we ran one red light and I noticed that we were doing 110 mph on a 35 mph road.
It was elementary dear reader that should this gleaming example of Toyota’s marque ingenuity crash into anything at 110 mph there was no airbag in the world going to save our ass’s. This and the fact that I had never known Carl to drive like this forced me to glance over at the driver. I screamed a little when I looked over and saw that my once dear friend had been replaced with the devil himself!! A smooth skinned red thing with a lit cigarette in his hand, I watched him laugh uncontrollably as we ran through red light after red light his crooked yellow piano key teeth jutting forth in the moonlight. I shoved my back into the roomy leather interior of the luxury box in an effort to brace myself for impact for what seemed like an eternity until we suddenly came to a screeching halt. I whipped my head around to behold the great dragon sitting next to me; he had stopped…at a stop sign. “Ankou, Izanami, Mors, Mot, Yama, Shemal” he screamed with eyes blazing red like the fires of Hell. “W-w-w-what”, I asked as I felt tears brimming in my eyes. At that moment he let out a scream like a sheep being slaughtered and smashed the pedal of the luscious Lexus into the floor. We flew at over 100 mph once again, I heard horns blaring and tires squealing in our wake. “HA HA HA, EIJI TOYODA IS MY CONCIBINE BITCH, AND YOU SHALL DIIIIEEEEEE” the devil roared as we ripped down the black asphalt. With an unintentionally sharp jerk of the wheel the demon sent my head smashing into the passenger side window; streaming lights blurred as the spiraling blackness enveloped my vision and I lost consciousness.
I woke up to a sharp poking in my side; I looked up and realized it was Carl. I was overjoyed as I threw my arms around my friends neck. “Oh Carl you wouldn’t believe the dream I just had” I cried.
“Really? Come on you will have to tell me about it inside.” Replied Carl as the red neon flashed behind him.
At that moment the smell of burning rubber and cigarettes permeated my nostrils. I looked up at my friend as I trembled with fear.
We were not home…
“Come on” he said with a wave and a smile, “this is one Hell of a bar, you’re going to love it”.

2005-12-22T11:15:00.000-08:00

They will hurt you

2005-12-11T20:26:00.000-08:00

I had stayed late that afternoon in my homeroom class to finish a drawing I had been working on. It was nearly 4:00 when Mr. Stevens had finally finished grading his papers and announced he was ready to go home. “See you tomorrow Rembrandt”, he said with a squeeze of my shoulder. He was one of my favorite teachers. Mr. Stevens was always supportive, kind, and incredibly sympathetic. He was aware of the problems at home and made every effort to nurture the positive things in my life. As I walked through the empty hallways of Rose Park Elementary I daydreamed of being a great thief like Cary Grant had played. I pressed my small back to the brown brick wall and stealthy tip toed my way to the front doors. I had almost escaped my imaginary sheiks palace with the stolen diamond necklace when from out of nowhere Mrs. Tune turned the corner. The women never cared for me all that much and choose to utilize every moment at her disposal to reinforce this fact upon me. “What are you doing in here”, she growled. A nervous chuckle escaped my lips, which only infuriated her more. It had been three grades prior when Mrs. Tune felt the full effect of my prepubescent incisors on her left arm as she attempted to restrain me during one of my emotional outburst…she never got over it. “YOU GET OUT OF HERE NOW”, she screamed. My heart sank as I watched the realization flash behind her eyes that she was alone with me in that school hallway, and she was afraid of me. With my head hung low I walked out the front doors and into the warm sunlight.

I continued walking as the seemingly blinding light filled my vision. I must have blinked a hundred times before my pupils finally dilated and the shadows in front of me started to take shape. There were three of them, tall ominous things that I could faintly hear talking in the distance just a few feet away. I turned my head so that my good ear was pointed at them and strained to hear some identifying voices. It was Denny that I heard first. His voice was unmistakable; it was as if all the anger and abuse in his life was able to escape from those grinding vocal cords. There was something else in his voice though, something darker and steelier that told you he had already given up…that he was only going through the motions to see how much of his pain he could share with the world. Chris’s was the next voice I recognized, his dopey cherub face gave no forewarning of the angry and frightened young soul inside his skin. There was something different in his voice; it was a longing to belong to something or someone. That desperation always made him dangerous, Chris would do anything to belong…anything. It was the even more elevated figure in the middle of the two boys that frightened me the most. I finally regained my vision as my eyes fixated in on the center silhouette. It was Joey, one of the more popular kids around. His half Asian and half white heritage had provided him with a unique and handsome look. I knew very little about Joey except for the fact that he was not the one with whom to fuck. As I gazed at the three boys I noticed that Joey was smiling at me. No, not just smiling…beaming. I felt the corners of my lips curl involuntarily to meet his infectious grin. “What up”, Joey asked with friendly nod of his head. I was shocked; I struggled to think of the right words to say. It had to be cool, it had to be original, and it had to be…

CRACK!!!

Out of nowhere I felt a fist smash into my face. The coppery taste of blood filled my mouth; I felt my teeth destroy the inner flesh of my cheek like so much meat, and for a few moments I saw the night sky before the sun went down. I stood there as the three of them slowly backed away. In back of my mind through the ringing in my ears I heard a small voice whisper, “Damn, he took it”. The wallop to my jaw had set my world in a still standing motion that made me want to press my eyes into the back of my head just to make it stop. It was a feeling I would compare later in life to that moment when realize you have had to much to drink, and like it or not you would now be throwing up all your guts. As things came back into focus I spat candy apple red all over the sidewalk. The three boys waited then…I think to see that moment when my eyes rolled into the back of my head and my body fell onto the concrete. I didn’t fall though; instead I stood there desperately trying to rationalize what had just happened. Deep within my own mind I forgot that the boys were even there. I heard someone say “why”; it took a few moments to realize it was me speaking. The very second I thought to ask this question again but in full consciousness my legs came out from under me. The three boys kicked like mules and beat their fists into my body. They beat me until my swollen lips begged them to stop…until my tears stung in the open wounds of my face…until my body lay still with sound bone slapping meat somewhere far far away.
When I woke up I realized a few things…
If they smile it doesn’t necessarily mean they like you,
The beautiful ones can often be the most ugly,
Being naïve and ignorant will cause you suffering,
And sometimes they will hurt you just because they can.

Memories....

To my family and friends.....

2005-12-07T20:22:00.000-08:00

Here I am, back in TEXAS!
I started to write a blog entry detailing my adventures in Salt Lake City…but after finding that the first three hours of my journey took up an unanticipated and massive amount of space I surmised that a different route would need to be taken lest I loose the interest of you dear reader.This posting is a thank you note…more or less.
My seemingly fleeting visit began on November 30th with my dear friend Rich picking me up in his surprisingly spacious Mini “Charlie” Cooper “Special Edition” (if you don’t get it don’t ask). My time with Rich was excellent and far to short. It was truly wonderful to see my family and friends, even if I wasn’t able to spend an acceptable amount of time with a single one. It never fails…there is always someone hurt that you didn’t spend enough time with them, or they are hurt because you didn’t spend a single moment with them. This time the hurt parties were my own godson Chance and my friend Mitch…I know, I am a prick…World-class, and I thank you all for understanding.Beau was my little outbreak monkey this time; his illness became increasingly worse as my visit progressed. I am sure that his body realizing that he had taken that Thursday and Friday off decided to vacation as well and allow a nasty virus to seize his throat and lungs. After his reporting of a **CENSORED** injury Thursday morning and enjoying a wonderful Meal prepared by my friend (and Beau’s wife) Amy that evening I saw very little of my old friend. Amy’s cooking skills have undoubtedly placed an extra ten pounds on my ass! It was good shit! Ryan (the man with the metro-sexual hair) and Neal’s time with me was even more fleeting. Ryan and his three (count’em THREE) incredible children came to dinner that Thursday evening. Regrettably Ryan’s lovely wife was unable to attend due to scheduling problems at work. Neal showed up half way through dinner in all his conversational-quickening splendor. Neal’s wife was also unable to attended due to illness, unfortunately there is no inoculation for the increasingly rare Coltonfluenza at this time. I enjoyed Neal’s irreverence and ability to upset Beau’s mother with his wonderfully inappropriate topics, which ultimately forced my second mother “Ellen” back into her bedroom. Neal is a peach! The children were great, Chance and Faith reassured me that I am not yet forgotten as they showered me with love and attention (and expected nothing less in return).My brother was the steadfast true blue trooper (I knew he would be) as night after night we ran the city (and ourselves) into the ground, absolutely refusing to go to bed before three o’clock in the morning each night (a common practice for my brother as he juggles a complex and rewarding life). Regardless of the fact that he had many people to entertain and that he had to go to work the next day he never left my side for a moment, even to his own detriment. Lance showed me an amazing time during my time in Salt Lake (and I mean AMAZING) and although I didn’t think it possible he has endeared him self ever further in my heart (but that’s for another blog posting). He is a light in the dark and I feel like a better person having been around him. With every day that passed I found that our blood and friendship is truly unparalleled. Not to mention I was so relieved to hear the camera wasn’t totally fucked.My mother was her jovial self as we spent limited time together. She always seems to miss me more when I am actually in Salt Lake City. The lunch, dinner, and Company party were each special in their own unique way. I love her and find myself growing closer to her new husband Grant (in all his anti-social splendor).My time with my father was simply magnificent. His constant individual growth and love for his children makes me proud. As he watched me breeze in and out of the house everyday I never heard a jealous word, nor was I ever asked when I would be making time for him. He just seemed happy to have me there. This of course made Sunday evening even more special as my brother, my father, and I went out and had a great time. After three toasts followed by three shots of Saki we had an excellent dinner at the Happy Sumo sushi house (or something like that)…an admitted first for my father. This was followed by a few enjoyable games of pool (cut short by a lost camera) and then a movie (Walk the Line) that we all enjoyed. I would write more about this wonderful man but I don’t think I would do him justice.
It was a very special visit and of course made me unbelievably home sick.
Thank you all so very very much.

Strange Lake City

2005-11-24T16:50:00.000-08:00

“Where are you from”?
I smile, grit my teeth, and clench my butt cheeks together…”Salt Lake City.”
“Oh! Are you Mormon”?
There is this twisted stigma that comes with telling someone you’re from Salt Lake City, Utah.
“No, I am not a Mormon”.
I have heard it all. Oh god, I have heard it all!
Everyone in Utah has four wives!
Didn’t you know?
Everyone in Utah has a tail!
Didn’t you know?
Everyone in Utah is Mormon!
Didn’t you know?
Everyone in Utah dresses like the Amish!
Didn’t you know?
Since I live in Texas I have the luxury of countering such comments and questions by saying “ That’s funny, I thought everyone in Texas was a shit kicking hillbilly”. If everyone in Utah had four wives do you think I ever would have left? …Um…lets come back to that question. The truth is Texas is not full of Hank Williams impersonators; it’s a big city with big city people. Utah is not full of Mormons…wait…shit…yes it is…but there are a variety of other people as well!! I enjoy my visits to SLC, every time I come home I feel like the city has grown a little bit more into a semi inhabitable place. Granted it has never been completely alien to me, it still holds that simple charm that I crave at times. Life doesn’t travel at 120 mph is SLC, the traffic jams are laughable, and the people don’t seem as quick to cut your throat. It’s a strange little city with strange little people, and strangely enough its home.
Here in Texas for one month out of the year the humidity lifts (and I get nose bleeds), the temperature drops (and I get nose bleeds), and I become home sick. I sit on my porch and talk to friends while I shiver and shake in the cool breeze, my Texas acclimatized body fighting with my Salt Lake recollecting mind at 65 degrees (Yeah asshole that’s cold now!). Next week I will be coming home for a short period of time, I am going to be able to see my old friends and spend some time with my family. Has it been that long? For me the true indicator of the time that has passed always seems to be the children. I don’t care if its newborn babies or the fact that my godchildren have grown another foot…it makes me feel old, and tells me it has in fact been to long. Often Uncle Colton seems to border on a mythical figure whose memory is constantly in jeopardy of slipping away. SO Like that seasonal Christmas movie hell bent on whoring you all out of your hard earned money for commercial and economic gain in hopes that for a brief moment you actually believe that every man is your brother and the world a beautiful place to live in full of smiling faces and free shit, I shall RETURN.
PREPARE FOR MY COMING!

Blind Faith

2005-11-10T16:28:00.000-08:00

A dear friend has asked me what my beliefs and/or views are regarding the LDS faith. I felt obliged to give this question a REAL answer. Let me say I have a few… difficulties with the LDS faith.
Shall we begin?

Jesus was born of an incestuous relationship between God and Mary? Yes, that is what the LDS church believes. Allow me to explain…According to the LDS faith “GOD” was once a man of flesh and bone, just like you and me. Oh yes, he worshiped his god and as a reward for his faith and righteous life he was exalted to a state of Godliness. Yes, I am afraid our God is only one in an infinite number of gods (which defies logic) everyone. After he allowed his wife (Goddess if you will) to stand at his side they began a spiritual family…hence my brothers and sisters here on Earth. Now God had a wife…but came to Earth as a man to impregnate his DAUGHTER Mary…. Okay but get this…Mary is still a virgin because “God” impregnated her and not a mortal. Hmmm. I don’t know if my lowly semi-moral human mind can get behind that.
I want to tell you that I will be able to understand this all one day but due to the fact that I am not an active church member, I don’t pay my 10% tithe, I no longer do baptism for the dead, I don’t have a celestial marriage, and I don’t know the secret hand shake I will not be able to become a God myself. Oh yes, what others might call blasphemy is commonplace within the LDS faith. If you live righteously and by the rules set forth by “the Church” you too can become a God! An equal to your creator!

A woman cannot get into heaven unless her husband begets it? Yes, the sexist nature of religion in general is enough to make every feminist scream until her head explodes, but the LDS religion takes it to a whole new level. There has been repeated statements made by the leaders of the LDS faith as well as its founders suggesting (and in some cases saying out right) that men are superior to women. Even today they go to two different sets of classes, each teaching a different lesson. Now correct me if I’m wrong but I cant have a baby, I cant feed a baby with my breast, My threshold of pain is lower than a women, My sexual urges dominate many of the choices I make in my life, and I actually feel things physically and emotionally at a lessened capacity when compared to a women. Now you tell me who is superior!!!

The inconsistencies and contradictions between the bible and the book of Mormon are innumerable! Yes, I taught the faith while living in Hawaii. In my time teaching I read the two books extensively to prepare and create lessons. One thing that continually tested my faith was the contradictions between the two books. Look this is the word of God right? I mean if in fact the LDS faith is “true” as it professes then why does one of its main articles of faith state, “We believe the Bible to be the word of God as far as it is translated correctly; we also believe the Book of Mormon to be the word of God”? Okay, why do we accept the Bible ” as far as it is translated correctly” but there is no question that the Book of Mormon is 100%? Oh, I see God changed his mind about some things! Well he was once only human. No, I am of the opinion that certain portions of the bible would not conform to the teaching of the LDS religion so this little clause was put in place. According to the Bible doesn’t eternal damnation await the individual who changes, re-writes or alters the Bible or it’s teaching? Surely the LDS religion is the exception to this rule!

Racist bullshit? NO, not in the LDS religion! WRONG! This is one of the biggest black eyes for the LDS religion. Unlike the many revisions and alterations that have befallen the Book of Mormon since its inception, most people are actually aware of the sudden change in the Mormon religions standing concerning people of ethnicity. For damn near 150 years the LDS faith denied the priesthood to people of African American decent. Why you ask?? Didn’t you know? They are all descendants of Cain! Yes Cain…you know…of the Cain and Able fame. Crazy? Maybe. This was put forth as an official church doctrine and policy except for a personal African American friend of Joseph Smith and his descendants…Oh and Walker Lewis who stayed behind as the Saints fled. It wasn’t until June of 1978 that Spencer W. Kimball Received “a revelation” form his lord that this policy changed. Um, why would a religion sent by God himself conform the social changes of society? I guess God just discriminated against African Americans until 1978.

Don’t even get me started on the Joseph Smiths quote about men on the moon who dress like the Quakers and live to be nearly 1000 years old. Oh boy!

Look, I could go on and on but the fact remains that ALL religions of the world are flawed. They all have their dirty secrets and their contradictions. I say this because I want you to understand that I hold no ill will towards the LDS religion…I merely take it for what it is. I have said it before and I will say it again:
Organized religion is flawed because men are flawed, and no matter how you cut it MEN run the religious show down here on earth.
Unfortunately People are afraid of this crazy world, it has no promises other than death…and organized religion gives some people peace.
And Finally, NO religion is better than another.
Anything can be picked apart and made to look ugly, but there is a beauty to everything…even the LDS religion.

You want to know what I think of the LDS faith? Like every other religion that has ever been it can give hope to the hopeless, yet it can crush the human spirit.
It can build monuments worthy of a God, yet it can destroy the homes and lives of the meek. It can give a light in the darkness to those who conform, yet it can smite those who turn away with the blackest of hands. It’s a tale as old as time, men have always had their gods. The LDS religion is no different.
As I travel in this life I will offer my hand to all, should they deny me based on my religion or lack there of…It is not the choice of a God, but the choice of a man.

Oral Trauma

2005-11-09T20:13:00.000-08:00

They always told us that if we didn’t have anything nice to say then we shouldn’t say anything at all.
What a fucking load of submissive crap!
Tip toeing around subjects that might offend.
Accepting what is said so that you aren’t expelled from the very group that enslaves you.
Compromising who you are by keeping your mouth shut.
Don’t confuse respect with being acquiescent.
Life is in the irreverent and the defiant! I love a walking contradiction. When my human nature to label and categorize is mystified by a unique individual I feel inspired and alive. Never fear the things you say! Speak the words like some blunt force oral trauma smashing into the jaw of every societal standard, corrupting the core of the status quo. A Wartsila-Sulzer RTA96-C turbo charged two-stroke diesel engine wrapped in flesh and bone. YES!!! I crave the global voice of a modern generation. Ride the now massive silicon beast my friends naked and kick the door in on those slaves to conformity.
Give me the brutal reality!
Give me the skull fracturing truth!
Give me your impertinent words!
Whew!!
YEAH!!! Ha ha ha!!
THANK YOU AND GOOD NIGHT!!!

"Everyday is Halloween"

2005-10-31T18:16:00.000-08:00

Its an extremely dark and rainy Halloween night in Texas, and I am painting my fingernails black. I cant help but smile when I see the blue lighting crash out side my office window and feel my entire apartment shake as the thunder booms. I am getting ready for a party tonight but amidst the the black eye liner, black lipstick, and black nail polish I recently purchased for this evening the memories creep into my brain with velvet fingers. I had almost forgotten, I guess most of us do after enough time passes. Time goes by and who you are becomes who you have always been. No, as a young man I didn't do sports, the chess club, honor role, or school politics. If you were to put a label on it I guess you would call me Gothic, but the lifestyle seemed so much deeper back then. We were all so tragically beautiful, teenage angst physically manifested in black on black and sex. Most people don't think about how beautiful pain can be. Do you remember the poem you wrote when that girl or guy broke your heart? You will never write like that again. Even if you never showed it to anyone it was pure and beautiful and yours. Its was in every song you listened to and wondered how that band could capture your exact pain in those lyrics. You played it over and over as you cried alone in you room. For most of the kids I grew up with the pain was not fleeting but constant, and usually inflicted at home. With a touch or a smile between black painted lips you never had to say "I'm gay and my parents hate me", "my mother drinks and beats me", "my father molests me", or "I was rapped". It was one androgynous people and we inherited a lifestyle where all the darkness and pain was made into something beautiful. For some it was the rebirth in death that allowed them to get through those confusing and turbulent high school years, after all how could anyone hurt you if you were already dead. I look at the Gothic kids now as they file into Hot Topic and I can only hope that for them it is merely a fashion statement, but I know for some it isn't. I guess all of us romanticize our youth in one form or another. My thoughts go back to the nights when we would go to the club and dance until the sweat soaked the patent leather and velvet we wore. The grave yards at midnight when we would talk into the morning hours as we drank and smoked our clove cigarettes, our make up smudged the smell of drying sweat and tea rose in the air. I couldn't fathom how anyone would or could leave a lifestyle so accepting and understanding for the cold and lonely world of the "norm". I don't think any of us ever thought we would sell out or grow up...but we did. The ones who escaped without suicide, an addiction, a disease, or complete insanity became uncommonly well rounded people. Some of us learned that it was okay, that our pain didn't dictate who we were or who we could be, and we learned to see the beauty in the light as well as the dark. To be sure it was a razor blade we danced on, as I neared 18 so many had been lost to suicide and drugs that it scared the shit out of me.Now my ass length long black hair has been replaced with an irreverent spiked "corporate punk" cut. My skin has gone from a nearly translucent white to a light copper tan. And my once leather, rubber, silk, and velvet clad body now sports the labels of Banana, Armani, Versace, and Kenneth Cole. Yeah, I guess you could say I sold out. Do I regret it? No. I like my life and who I am, I am happier now than I have ever been. However I think that I will always think back fondly of a time when everyday was Halloween.

Suicide Solution?

2005-10-31T18:02:00.000-08:00

For a very long time I fought the compulsion to end it all, to erase myself. I was convinced that the world would be a better place without me (and so were some other people). It seemed for some time there that I brought nothing but pain and suffering to my family and friends, I was a horrible young man with no conscience to speak of. My family (try as they might) realized that they could not help me and backed away. My friends one by one either turned and ran screaming or kept me at arms length out of fear. I had lashed out at the world and it had turned its back on me. It was of course inevitable that the pain I inflicted would run out of victims until only one remained. I hated myself, more than that…I loathed my life. So in my self righteous prideful mind I saw no reason not to put a loaded gun in my mouth, slide a razor across my wrists, or ingest an abundance of lethal pharmaceuticals.As I am sure you are aware by now, I failed in my attempts at suicide. After everything had failed I came to a startling conclusion…I needed to change who I was at the core. The very thing that I used to define myself was literally killing me. Like some mad scientist I picked the characteristics I admired in others and mixed them up to redefine who I was. I would give rather than take, I would give my love and friendship unconditionally, and I had to get some sort of fucking fashion sense! This was however a tough sale to those who knew my ugly past, but I was determined to never go down that dark path again. This would eventually lead to my leaving home; I had to give myself an opportunity to grow into who I knew I could be without peoples predetermined opinions breaking me down. I am proud to say that the people who know me now would never guess that such troubled times had been laid to rest in my past. I have forged and continue to forge some one that I can love…and ultimately it doesn’t matter who loves you if you don’t love yourself.Recently someone whom I love very much has confessed that they are contemplating ending their lives. This news breaks my heart because I see such beauty in this person. No one in this world is better off gone, everyone touches others in ways they can’t understand. Yes, the pain can be overwhelming but to deny ourselves the beauty is tragic. We never know what wonderful things can and will come into our lives; we owe it to ourselves and our loved ones to be steadfast and strong in these tough times. I have been so very fortunate in that a few people have taken my hand when I couldn’t see light. These people changed my life with a talk, a smile, and a kind embrace. As long as there is one person who loves you…your life is more precious than anything on this world.And suicide is not a solution.

A Mad Peace of Mind

2005-10-14T22:12:00.000-07:00

“ But I don’t want to go among mad people,” Alice said.
“Oh, you can’t help that,” Said the Cat: “we’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.”
“How do you know I’m mad?” Said Alice.
“You must be,” said the Cat, “or you wouldn’t have come here”
The dialog between Alice and the Cat still rings in my head to this day. As a child it was the first time I had read something that truly made me sympathies with someone else. I was eight years old and everyone told me that I was crazy.
Like many of today’s “Troubled youth” I had no way of communicating to those around me. We are all born with a sort of moral barometer as children, this allows us to know when something is unethical or wrong for us. What we are not born with is the ability to communicate these feelings to others in a sociably acceptable way. Unfortunately we live in a selfish and busy world were people are unaware, unable, or unwilling to help these children find a voice. As a result many children lash out at the very world that does not and will understand them. They are quickly labeled uncontrollable or troubled and an effort to subdue the child begins. One of the newest sociably acceptable ways we as Americans have found to force our children into submission is thru the use of pharmaceuticals. Aside from the emotional growth paralyzing effect these drugs have on a young mind they can also destroy a Childs self-esteem. Further more they can cause irreparable emotional damage that can follow them into their adult years. As an individual diagnosed with manic depression these lost souls hold a special place in my heart. I hear the questions from so many parents with troubled children “What do I do?” “Where should I send him/her?”, “Should I put them on Anti depressants?”. I wish I could somehow impart the personal knowledge I hold and help these people to understand what is happening. This is a fast food world and people want fast food answers, but this is not a fast food problem. This is the mental and emotional growth of a human child and you cannot rush that without some repercussions. Nearly 30 million or 1 in 5 Americans have been diagnosed with some form of depression and the number grows every year. It is painfully obvious to this blogger that these pharmaceuticals are not making things better. In fact I believe they are making the problem worse. We tell our children they have to take pills to be “normal”, but then we have the nerve to stand confused when they shoot their own classmates. We tell our children they are chemically unbalanced, but we just can’t understand how they could commit suicide. I hope that one day we as a people are able to stop placating the problem and focus on a real solution.
Until then...I am living proof that medicating ones self is not a necessity…no matter what they say. I believe that we “Troubled youth” can teach our selves the lessons we missed in childhood, if we give ourselves the patience and love that others could not. And I believe it is our duty to keep an open heart and out stretched hand for those fledgling souls still lost in the dark.

The American Man

2005-10-10T18:31:00.000-07:00

My America is different from my fathers, and its even more alien than my grandfathers. The men of my America have no craft, no social utility, and no loyalty. Our fathers taught us that we would inherit the world, and that our place in society would be secured. This couldn’t be farther from the truth. The idea of a true and good strong man running the show has become a laughable anachronism. My fore fathers carried the façade of masculinity thru the decades, but this pose of control has left my generation with nothing to stand on. In a popular culture that embraces androgyny, were style is valued over substance, many men feel increasingly emasculated and lost. You can hear them scream “blasphemy”, you can see them point fingers and shake their heads. The truth is things change, and true change is rarely pleasant. We have been given an opportunity to move beyond our adversarial relationship with women and change together. People are realizing more and more that it doesn’t matter what your sex, color, or sexual orientation is. The day is coming soon when all people shall be judged by their individual caliber alone.

You make me laugh.

2005-10-06T10:49:00.000-07:00

Ahhhhh. So here I am again. I get the feeling that the subject matter on this blog may get a bit to deep at times. Its funny because I am usually such a happy go lucky kind of guy. I mean I watch the porn, I party, and yes I have even smacked the occasional bum bum a time or two. I think the positive aspect of my mind is what draws what friends I do have to me. People normally don’t enjoy watching me pound my head against a wall (unless they have been the butt of my jokes), so I do that in private. My venting takes many forms, from incredibly large and dark oil paintings to very bad poetry. Still I feel sometimes that my loosely wound sanity lets one of the slimy things slip by form time to time…hence this blog. So the purpose of this entry (although I may just be talking to myself here) is mainly to assure you and myself that I am a happy guy, with happy times, and a happy colon.

So should any of you sissy bitchs feel the urge to tell me to lighten up…THEN YOU CAN KISS MY ASS IN HELL!!

…and I love you all.

Late is a four-letter word (River P.1)

2005-09-16T09:27:00.001-07:00

Friday dragged like a cave man’s bitch!! I was just about to get off work and “go down the river”, the Frio River that is, Texas F!!
By the time I got home Jen’s stalking gene was in full effect…Five messages on the answering machine ranging from “We are hear ready to go?” to “WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?” I laughed knowing that when I got to her apartment she will ask the same question like a broken record. I grab my bag and the phone rings…”GET YOUR FUCKING ASS OVER HERE” Jen screams. I was an hour late, I knew it, but when you live in the third biggest city in America sometimes the traffic is for shit. So with a snort and a grunt I hung up the phone and was out the door.
I got to her apartment and the front door rips open…Where have you been? What took you so long? Where have you been? What took you so long? Where have you been? What took you so long? Where have you been? What took you so long? Where have you been?…….Told ya.

Unseasy rider (River P.2)

2005-09-16T09:27:00.000-07:00

It was Melody, Jen, and I. Melody was surprising Rob who had already been at the river all day. As she downed her third Red Bull she confessed to all that she didn’t know why she was “so hyper”, in return I confessed that I had gas…She laughed…. I wasn’t joking. 15 minutes into the drive and Melody’s hand thrusts from the back seat with a cd in it. “Track four,” she says…. Did I mention I don’t like N’Sync? Then Jennifer turns to tell me that she doesn’t want me driving her car like I normally do; I am to drive 90 mph. At this moment I realize that there is an uneven balance between my testosterone and their estrogen in this box.

The Duel (River P.3)

2005-09-16T09:26:00.000-07:00

It had been a few hours and we were having a ball when suddenly a Mormon assault vehicle blasts past me at 95 mph! Apparently with all of the slap, tickle, and giggle going on I had allowed the car to slow to 75 mph. Laughter filled the car as the girls realized I was just passed by a family of five driving an Astrovan with luggage on the top. How could it be? Where did he come from? Why had he ass blasted me? These questions raced through my mind and slid back into the seat and felt my hands tighten on the wheel. No, no I don’t think so Mr. Fuck Stick Prick!!! The girls laughed and cheered as I slammed the pedal to the ground and one minute later hit 95 mph. The Partridge family saw me coming and sped up but they were no match for the sheer power on my four-cylinder town car. I flew past them screaming and laughing into the open air…. I was victorious. We drove on playing and singing to such hits as Bye Bye Bye (by N’sync) and Africa (by Toto) when suddenly a flash of luggage crossed my vision AGAIN. They had found us!! The sound of laughter and screams filled the car once again as I felt my blood go cold. I realized with a jolt that if I allowed this speeding 1970’s television show to beat me that I could never look my unborn child in the eyes, I realized that the very world might hang in the balance. FAILURE WAS NOT AN OPTION!! I smiled as I thought, “This is when watching Days of Thunder 126 times on TNT is going to pay off”. I slammed the peddle to the floor and 65 seconds later I was flying past the Partridge family again…..It was finally over. I had done it.
We drove for a few more hours. Carl called a few times to find out where we were…Why did he want to know? Was he in cahoots with the Partridge family? I didn’t know, but I decided to trust him.
We drove down the dirt road looking for our cabin, it was pitch black and chicks have lousy night vision. It was all up to me.
Just as Jennifer had found the road a pair of headlights came out of nowhere!!! WAS IT THEM?? HOW DID THEY FIND ME?? WAS THIS THE END??
No it was Carl, and he had come to guide us home.
But the Adventure was far from over………

Aye ye ye ye, I am the Frio Bandito!! (River P.4)

2005-09-16T09:25:00.001-07:00

The sun was shinning and my morning wood was starting to fade away. I awoke suddenly when I heard a loud banging sound coming from the kitchen. I slid on pajamas and slowly opened the door. Like a culinary ballet Carl and Mandy seemed to maneuver and dance with each other as they prepared breakfast for us all. The look in Carl’s eyes said, “I would rather be doing this naked”…. or maybe that was just me. The human body only needs two hours sleep to function anyway. Right? I grabbed a plate and started to eat!
After a trip to pick up tubes and herding everyone into the appointed cars we were off!
We arrived at the river and everyone sluggishly moseyed out of their cars and congregated around Carl’s golden Lexus. Like worshiping a primitive god they waited for their high priest to speak…I was pulling the coolers out of my trunk. Carl came around to face the huddled masses and one couldn’t help but notice the lost and confused look on their faces. Much like Moses leading his people Carl raised his left are and commanded “TO THE RIVER”…and the people moved...or maybe I was half asleep. After a brief but effective re-orchestration of cooler contents everyone started to head for water. We needed a car to drive back up to the top of the river and get the rest of the cars once this adventure was over and I had been chosen. Carl and I raced down the roads (except for the time we got stuck behind a local retard) and dropped off the car. Then we raced back up the road. Everyone was waiting in the water when we got back, they were sloping ungodly amounts of sunscreen on each other. It looked like some kind of Hawaiian Tropic Special Olympics! I then realized that I would neigh apply that sad excuse for clown make up on my beautiful body! I slid into the water and the warm temperature engaged the sudden primitive need to urinate in the water…but I could hold it…after all we had all day.

River rat rapids! (River P.5)

2005-09-16T09:25:00.000-07:00

The feeling of peace and serenity washed over me as I floated like some albino turd down the river…the beer defiantly helped with this feeling. We had elected to leave the sandwiches I had slaved over for more beer space; I thought this plan was a stroke of genius personally. We would only be on the river for six hours…Who the hell needed food? I lazily laughed and I floated from person to person making conversation and drinking the brew as fast as I could. I looked up from my fascinating belly button and saw a look of excitement on everyone’s faces, the “rapids” we had all heard about were coming up. I swung around in my tube to face this raging beast of nature! “Don’t fall out of your tube”, I heard some one yell behind me. I griped the black rubber handle of my floating doughnut and prepared to get crazy. The water gushed and I moved about two feet before I was violated by the rocks below, I shot up out of my tube with such force that my body had no choice but to come back down with a thud. YES A THUD! My ass was in four inches of water and stuck. I took a moment to enjoy the view then. I watched as my friends gyrated and humped the air wildly trying desperately to scuffle down this tricky counterfeit rapid all heading for deeper water. I felt the seam of my shorts dig into my goods and immediately stood up and walked back into the regular river. Out of nowhere inbred hillbillies threw rocks over our heads; you could see in their eyes they wanted to take the women! We all paddled to get away and lost them. As we floated we continued to drink, I was feeling no pain. A few hours later someone told me I was pink and needed sunscreen. I tossed my seemingly 100 pound head back and informed everyone that I need no such thing. It continued like this for some time, good friends, good, beer, good river, and GOOD GOD SOMETHING IS TRYING TO GET IN MY ASS!! The stories of water moccasins, ass eating catfish, and scuba diving homosexuals filled my head. I heard a little girl scream and realized it was me! I looked down and saw my waterproof wallet container dangling off my shorts…that’s what was popping my butt…I felt like the smartest man alive.

Tubeboobular Adventure (River P.6)

2005-09-16T09:24:00.000-07:00

We had braved the three foot water fall (well most us), taken countless leg dangling bathroom breaks, been chased by redneck river rats, dragged over yards of rock by Carl, and imagined names for our floating “tube city”. It had truly been a wonderful experience. As we neared the end we waved wildly at the other half of our group who had left an hour before us. We dragged our tubes out of the water and scuffled up the side of the bank. “OKAY! Jamie, Colton, and I will get the cars and be back in a minute”, said Carl. My half delusional state came to a screeching halt with the realization that I had left my keys in Carl’s Lexus…. at the top of the river…. seven miles away at the top of the river. It had never occurred to me that I would need to drive everyone back up until this moment. In a delirious state I smiled and said, “I left the keys in your Lexus”…. Everyone laughed and snickered…. I was serious. The very moment everyone realized I was not joking they all slowly backed away from Carl and I. In the distance I could hear the theme song form The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly playing. I braced myself and waited for whatever was to come…”Well lets walk up the road and see if we can get a ride at the gas station”, said Carl. It seemed that it just wasn’t my day to die after all.
We caught a ride with “Luke” a country boy who didn’t mind our wet asses on his leather seats. We tried to talk about cell phone reception but we did have some dead spots in the conversation. Once we got back down and loaded every one up, we headed back to our cabin.

Cabin fever (River P.7)

2005-09-16T09:23:00.000-07:00

After a trip to city to buy night tubing equipment Jamie informed us that the deadly snakes, scorpions, and other nightlife in the river would inevitably kill us the moment we got wet. This little exaggeration changed the entire course of the evening. We were staying at the cabin!!

The night continued with the drawing tattoos, photographically exploiting the girls, watching Carl hit himself in the balls with glow sticks, and other zany antics…But that’s another story.

New Orleans please don’t go.

2005-09-02T11:20:00.000-07:00

When shall I hear the marching band with its big brass instruments and its pounding drums walking down Bourbon St, or the Zydeco bands whose music would spill out into the streets nightly?
When shall I see the cities of the dead built and maintained with love, or the genuine hospitality and smiles of the people?
When shall I smell that dirty south air that made one feel at home, or the swamp flowers that seemed to be placed there by the hand of God?
When will I taste that sweet Cajun and Creole Cuisine that would ease my very soul, or the spirits we drank that were made even sweeter by the good company?
It was a nervous and beautiful city that took my breath away. An explosion of color and joy where every night was a celebration of life! It was a unique place where nightmares and dreams held hands as they strolled through the Parishes. It was a hollowed ground where the saints could let their hair down and enjoy earthly pleasures. A dark piece of history that was filled with an oppressed people whose true freedom came much to late. They smiled as the world filled their streets and lived carelessly. They smiled as they picked up after us…they were just happy to be apart of our joy for a little while. The Acadian and Creole people were bound and determined to make a home, but what they built was a true American Shangri-La
GIVE ME MARDI GRAS!
GIVE ME FRENCH QUARTER!
GIVE ME VOODOO!
GIVE ME CRAWFISH ETOUFFEE!
And I will give my heart…
New Orleans please don’t go.

Keeping the Sabbath

2005-08-31T10:53:00.000-07:00

Saturday: 8-27-05
I am an idiot! Let me re-phrase that, I am an idiot and I am never drinking again. The same question runs through my head over and over “How do the bands bet up this early to play”. I mean this is rock and roll right? “Up all night sleep all day”… “Its better to burn out than to fade away”…Yet here I am at 8:00 trying to understand why I keep dropping the soap in shower. Half blind I put my cloths on…and then the phone rings. Its Brody, It’s the Brody with three kids that get up at 5:00 in the morning Brody, and he is ready to go now!
I drove which meant we almost got in about four different accidents on the way, Brody tells me I am going to get us killed. I sleepily respond with devil horns on my right hand and say rock and roll. As we near the concert venue we find that all the parking is full, and I know why…these people slept last night. Suddenly I realize that all of the driveways into the parking areas are blocked of with cones and barriers but no guards. Brody screams something incoherent as I drive over a set of cones and through the barricade of the driveway closest to the concert. Wouldn’t you know it? Some prepubescent parking attendant left a perfectly good spot wide open just for me. I smile and stick up my devil horns again as Brody sings me praise for the sweet parking spot…everyone love a wiener.
It was hot; I mean the sweat evaporates of your sack hot!! I immediately ran towards the beer stand…Hair of the dog? No, I fully intended to eat spot whole! For some reason the same shock runs through my body every time I see a concert here, I look at the sign over head “Beer $8.00” Grrrrrrr. After my usual flirtatious bitching to the beer girl attendant I take the sweet cold beverage and head off to the “Village of the dammed”. The bands were great! Most of the opening performers were from Sweden and Germany. These bands had picked up the broken pieces on American Metal and had made them shinny and new, much like the British did for the blues in the sixties. It truly was a thing of beauty to watch these prodigal sons and daughters bring the original metal energy back to the states. Some notable (second stage) bands were Soil Work, Arch Enemy, Mastodon, and Killswitch Engage. My fellow horror aficionado Rob Zombie however destroyed them all. His raw energy proved powerful enough for multiple women to feel the uncontrollable desire to show him and the entire crowd the goods! This was however put to a stop repeatedly by security. Rob was of course a decoy to keep the sweaty, dehydrated, moshing, intoxicated huddled masses from rushing the main stage area.
It was 3:00 pm and at this point I had been drinking since 9:30 am, and I had to go to the bathroom. On my way out of the john I meet Brody who had two new beers and a drunken grin. I took the beer and we started towards the main stage.
When the first bands “In Flames”, “Mudvayne”, “Shadows Fall” came on stage the crowd barley moved, although “Mudvayne” exposed those who were either sober or die hard fans. A personal favorite “Black Label Society” received a warm response but not as much as they should have in my opinion. As we sat down from the animalistic guitar bashing of Zakk Wylde Brody Realized that a rather large women had her foot in his ass. In a drunken howl he jumped up and flipped around like a rabid dog on all fours screamed at the poor old woman. She quickly withdrew her chubby little digits and apologized. I couldn’t stop laughing.
Finally darkness had fallen, you could see the steam rising up from the crowd. We were all getting our second wind, and we had two more bands to go. The stage lights came on and like zombies from the grave over a thousand people rose up to their feet. The unmistakable guitar riff from “Slither” blasted out of the speakers and Velvet Revolver’s curtain hit the floor. No one moves like Scott Weiland in Rock and Roll, he is like the love child of David Bowie and Mick Jagger. Not only does he have an amazing capacity to shoot heroin, but also he can really freak you out. At the end of the show we hit the ground as if we would never stand again. The only thing that called me to my hands and knees was the glowing Budweiser light sign in the distance. We all shuffled into the beer line with each other smiling and loving, we were all seeing a good thing and we knew it. I got the beer and came back to my seat. Brody was talking to some hot young girl when I got back, her name was Candy (no shit) and she had driven down from Dallas. I personally could have given a squirt, I took this opportunity to lie down on the grass and reflect on the day’s endeavors. The cool breeze relaxed my exhausted body and I felt myself drift away…
“GET UP YOU FUCKERS!!!!!” Like the voice of God Ozzy’s voiced boomed from the speakers. I immediately jumped up and looked around at all the shit eating grins on the faces around me.
“Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!!” Came Ozzy’s trademark laugh. The people roared and the mob mentality took over, excited electricity filed the crowd and everyone stood with fists pumping. I felt something in my gut work its way up through my chest and a roar escapes my chapped and burned lips. The curtain came down and in the distance I bolt of lighting stuck. Paranoid was the first song and we all went insane. You may have watched the dumbed down, barley walking, silly Ozzy on MTV, but let me tell you this man put on the best show I have ever seen in my life. Those ass clowns at MTV have truly done this man an injustice. As the show went on we all noticed the lighting and thunder booming in the distance while The Iron Man and Black Sabbath ripped the stage apart. Half way through the show Ozzy really laid on the intensity.
“Your not crazy enough for the Ozzman!!” Yelled Ozzy. At that very moment there was notable change in the wind as if Ozzy him self had turned it up as we all screamed.
“Your not crazy enough!!” Screamed Ozzy. The wind then quadrupled in strength, it was blowing so hard some of the weaker people actually feel over.
“GET THE FUCK UP!!” Cried Ozzy. The Thunder Boomed and a torrential rain came gushing down. Only in Texas have I seen rain this big, like a liquid marbles slamming to earth.
The rest of the show went on like that, as if God was some almighty lighting and effect guru there just for Black Sabbath. It was amazing! Ozzy repeatedly professed his undying love for all of us, and we all responded with a vocal cord-blowing cry that shook the earth.
The rain pushed the stink of day old sweat and blood into the ground as we were herded out of the Pavilion. Brody and I found the car due to the amazing parking spot and drove home blasting Crazy Train.
It was a soul stirring experience that I will not soon forget.

Magnanimous My Ass

2005-08-18T12:12:00.000-07:00

So, here I am.
Long gone are the days when one could tap into a unified consciousness by simply meditating. Long gone are the days when my brothers and sisters could seek the comely nexus just beyond their eyes and feel whole.

This technological pacification of a lonely culture is the only cool breeze left in this dessert mind.
I hurl these pieces of myself into the void, another message in a bottle.
Should you find this sanctuary and choose to stay...remember that there is no need to tread lightly, for my mind is a massacre.