Here's what I say: Call my bluff.
You don't have the nerve.
Here's a quick timetable of the last seven days: F-NH S-NH S-YM M-NM T-YC W-NN R-YM F-YM
Don't worry, you're not expected to understand that.
Here's another one: F-YF S-YF S-YF M-N T-N W-N R-YEN F-YEF
No, I don't expect you to understand that either.
Another?: R-YNG F-YNG S-YG S-N M-N T-N W-N R-N
Now for some translation.
The first one says I made an effort. The second one says I did pretty well. The third one says I behaved myself on more days than I did not behave myself. I know, it's confusing. I'm not sure I'll understand it when I look back on it tomorrow.
But for now.
The last seven days or so have brought quite a bit of change in my way of thinking of things. Last week I spent a good bit of time vomiting blood for no good reason. For a minute I wondered if I was dying. But as soon as it subsided I realized I felt better than I had felt in a very long time.
I always did things I wanted to do. But now I'm trying new things I want to do. I'm going to learn to speak a little Russian, a little German, and a little French. Then maybe I'll try Italian and Spanish. I'm ignoring the fact that I have no aptitude for languages outside of my own. I bought a sketchbook a few weeks back, and some charcoal, and some colored pencils. I still can't draw worth a shit. But I'm slowly filling that sketchbook up. I'm cruising auctions for anything interesting. Hitting Dunkin' Donuts for a hot chocolate every morning. Spending time in Go-Go Bars with the guys. Going out to dinner and movies with my girlfriend. Hanging out with the Antioch people. Playing games with the kids. Working my ass off in general. Now if only I could make some time to clean up my house and play with my dog. I'd be all set.
But what then?
About Me
- King
- North Haledon, New Jersey, United States
- There isn't much about me worth knowing...unless of course you disagree?
Friday, December 28, 2007
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Sometimes You Eat The Bear And Sometimes The Bear, Well, He Eats You.
"Last night I had a wicked dream of an unfamiliar place, a cold dark place populated by a blind and silent people. In this place I wandered, lost in the memory of sound and light." - King
Friday night, as hilarious as it was, left me rather spent and extremely grateful that I didn't have to be in early on this particular Saturday...until the phone began to ring at a quarter to seven in the morning.
When I finally stumbled home several hours later I was half past exhausted and totally tits up. I remember beginning to get undressed and then it's all hazy. When I woke up about two hours later this was what I recall.
The dream began with a rememberance of two hilarious dreams from the past several months, the first involving lube and someone's father and the second being one of which I can never speak. Quickly they disolved however. And, with rather shocking suddeness, I found myself in the physical space of a dream I'd had once before. I was in a radio station, but not one of the three I'd ever worked at, a fourth one that has often stood in for WRSU in my dreams. I found this odd, but for the moment I was aware I was still dreaming and did not want to do anything to ruin it.
And suddenly the people who I worked with there began to arrive. I'd be lying if I said they didn't cross my mind now and then, but this was the first time I'd really thought of them in quite awhle. This fact alone surprised me. But here they were filtering into this strange radio station one by one. And now we're talking but not about what we've been doing, but about the ones that aren't here. Where is so and so? And so and so? And quickly I'm losing any illusion of a dream and beginning to wonder if this is real. They seem so independent of the way I would picture them after all this time. They've changed, grown older, they don't sound like me in the way that people often do in my dreams. They're talking a lot like they used to talk. And they're telling me things I could in no way know, but have no doubt are true. My dream is fooling me. Except I can't remember how I would have gotten to the radio station, and I'm wearing clothes I know I didn't buy, and they we're moving. All of us that have shown up are moving, quickly out of the building, and we go from the top floor to the ground level without taking any steps, without getting in an elevator and now the physics have been provided to shock me back into the reality of knowing this is a dream. I'm rather relieved, I wasn't prepared otherwise.
And now we're on a bus. My bus. With my friends from home, my friends from church, and my friends from the radio station. And I have no idea where we're going. We're talking. And crying. People keep crying, I almost cry. But since I don't know why we're crying I stop when someone asks me to.
Things are getting sort of outlandish now. I can see the bus is driving up a steep narrow path. And there are signs in the shape of bears.
Someone says we're almost there.
And then we are. Pulling through the giant wooden gates of what the signs call a bear preserve. And as the bus stops we can see bears wandering around on the other side of this flimsy chicken wire fence. And I literally stand up and say, "Dream or not. I'm not fucking going in there." Everyone looks at me funny.
And the phone rings.
Dragged out of the dream and back to work, I still carry the good feelings from "seeing" so many people I care about in the same place at the same time.
The day goes on, and at the end of a fantastic night I dream again.
I'm wandering in a small city I've never seen before. The warm wet rain beats the ground around me. I'm trying to hail a cab, but having no luck. And then I see him. Someone I know. Getting out of a cab on the other side of a major road. I call his name and he looks up like he hears me, but as I begin to move towards him I see that he's really answering someone else who is calling out for the cab. My old friend walks away, I chase after him, but as I round a corner I'm in a completely different neighborhood. The guys from work are walking around with flashlights because it has begun to get dark. Someone is missing and we're looking for her. I'm in a house I have no right being in and trying to avoid getting caught by the people who own the house. I find the girl we're looking for, and I'm shocked to see I know her. The people who own the house see me and start shooting at us. I don't have a gun so we run. We get away, but I've been hit. I'm bleeding bad, and I still can't catch a cab, so we hop on a transit bus, but the men with guns are still chasing us. We break a window and hop out of the bus while it's still moving. We're in a completely different neighborhood now. A very wealthy neighborhood with security cameras and police all over the place. The men with guns and the police began to shoot at each other so grab the girl and hide down behind a car. But a dog comes and tries to chase me into the open, so I'm punching to dog trying to get him to stop biting me. I stand up in the middle of the gun fight and run at two men with guns. All three of us go crashing through a fence and roll down a hill.
I hit the bottom hard, but the men with guns are gone and now it's just me and the girl again. When I look up I see that I'm...back in the bear preserve.
We wander around until the phone rings and I wake up.
I can deduce from the way my weekend was going where a great deal of the things in my dream came from, people I saw, things I heard, places I'd been. But there's one thing I'm absolutely sure I do not get.
Where did all the fucking bears come from?
Friday night, as hilarious as it was, left me rather spent and extremely grateful that I didn't have to be in early on this particular Saturday...until the phone began to ring at a quarter to seven in the morning.
When I finally stumbled home several hours later I was half past exhausted and totally tits up. I remember beginning to get undressed and then it's all hazy. When I woke up about two hours later this was what I recall.
The dream began with a rememberance of two hilarious dreams from the past several months, the first involving lube and someone's father and the second being one of which I can never speak. Quickly they disolved however. And, with rather shocking suddeness, I found myself in the physical space of a dream I'd had once before. I was in a radio station, but not one of the three I'd ever worked at, a fourth one that has often stood in for WRSU in my dreams. I found this odd, but for the moment I was aware I was still dreaming and did not want to do anything to ruin it.
And suddenly the people who I worked with there began to arrive. I'd be lying if I said they didn't cross my mind now and then, but this was the first time I'd really thought of them in quite awhle. This fact alone surprised me. But here they were filtering into this strange radio station one by one. And now we're talking but not about what we've been doing, but about the ones that aren't here. Where is so and so? And so and so? And quickly I'm losing any illusion of a dream and beginning to wonder if this is real. They seem so independent of the way I would picture them after all this time. They've changed, grown older, they don't sound like me in the way that people often do in my dreams. They're talking a lot like they used to talk. And they're telling me things I could in no way know, but have no doubt are true. My dream is fooling me. Except I can't remember how I would have gotten to the radio station, and I'm wearing clothes I know I didn't buy, and they we're moving. All of us that have shown up are moving, quickly out of the building, and we go from the top floor to the ground level without taking any steps, without getting in an elevator and now the physics have been provided to shock me back into the reality of knowing this is a dream. I'm rather relieved, I wasn't prepared otherwise.
And now we're on a bus. My bus. With my friends from home, my friends from church, and my friends from the radio station. And I have no idea where we're going. We're talking. And crying. People keep crying, I almost cry. But since I don't know why we're crying I stop when someone asks me to.
Things are getting sort of outlandish now. I can see the bus is driving up a steep narrow path. And there are signs in the shape of bears.
Someone says we're almost there.
And then we are. Pulling through the giant wooden gates of what the signs call a bear preserve. And as the bus stops we can see bears wandering around on the other side of this flimsy chicken wire fence. And I literally stand up and say, "Dream or not. I'm not fucking going in there." Everyone looks at me funny.
And the phone rings.
Dragged out of the dream and back to work, I still carry the good feelings from "seeing" so many people I care about in the same place at the same time.
The day goes on, and at the end of a fantastic night I dream again.
I'm wandering in a small city I've never seen before. The warm wet rain beats the ground around me. I'm trying to hail a cab, but having no luck. And then I see him. Someone I know. Getting out of a cab on the other side of a major road. I call his name and he looks up like he hears me, but as I begin to move towards him I see that he's really answering someone else who is calling out for the cab. My old friend walks away, I chase after him, but as I round a corner I'm in a completely different neighborhood. The guys from work are walking around with flashlights because it has begun to get dark. Someone is missing and we're looking for her. I'm in a house I have no right being in and trying to avoid getting caught by the people who own the house. I find the girl we're looking for, and I'm shocked to see I know her. The people who own the house see me and start shooting at us. I don't have a gun so we run. We get away, but I've been hit. I'm bleeding bad, and I still can't catch a cab, so we hop on a transit bus, but the men with guns are still chasing us. We break a window and hop out of the bus while it's still moving. We're in a completely different neighborhood now. A very wealthy neighborhood with security cameras and police all over the place. The men with guns and the police began to shoot at each other so grab the girl and hide down behind a car. But a dog comes and tries to chase me into the open, so I'm punching to dog trying to get him to stop biting me. I stand up in the middle of the gun fight and run at two men with guns. All three of us go crashing through a fence and roll down a hill.
I hit the bottom hard, but the men with guns are gone and now it's just me and the girl again. When I look up I see that I'm...back in the bear preserve.
We wander around until the phone rings and I wake up.
I can deduce from the way my weekend was going where a great deal of the things in my dream came from, people I saw, things I heard, places I'd been. But there's one thing I'm absolutely sure I do not get.
Where did all the fucking bears come from?
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Fictitious Chance Encounters
"Hey."
"Oh my god."
"Yeah, it's been awhile."
"What are you doing here? How are you?"
"I'm good. You?"
"Good. It's so great to see you. What have you been doing?"
"Just working. You know, day to day, thing to thing. I'm hanging in there. You?"
"Same, everything is going really well. You ever seen anybody?"
"No, you're the first one I've run into in years. You?"
"Not so much anymore. Not in a long while."
"Yeah, I know. Look, I really wish I had more time to talk. Time to catch up, but I have to go. There are people waiting for me."
"Yeah, me too. It was really great seeing you though."
"Yeah it was good seeing you to. You should really drop me a line or give me a call some time. Let me know you're doing ok, make it one less old friend I have to worry about."
"I will, you could do the same. So I don't have to worry about you."
"Nobody has to worry about me. I'm always good. I'm Palomba."
"Yeah...I know. Bye."
"Bye."
"Oh my god."
"Yeah, it's been awhile."
"What are you doing here? How are you?"
"I'm good. You?"
"Good. It's so great to see you. What have you been doing?"
"Just working. You know, day to day, thing to thing. I'm hanging in there. You?"
"Same, everything is going really well. You ever seen anybody?"
"No, you're the first one I've run into in years. You?"
"Not so much anymore. Not in a long while."
"Yeah, I know. Look, I really wish I had more time to talk. Time to catch up, but I have to go. There are people waiting for me."
"Yeah, me too. It was really great seeing you though."
"Yeah it was good seeing you to. You should really drop me a line or give me a call some time. Let me know you're doing ok, make it one less old friend I have to worry about."
"I will, you could do the same. So I don't have to worry about you."
"Nobody has to worry about me. I'm always good. I'm Palomba."
"Yeah...I know. Bye."
"Bye."
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Five Year Olds
This guy I used to live with was a seriously sick fuck. Not that he ever did anything too sick or twisted, but he just came up with sick and twisted ass shit. I'm sitting in the living room one Friday afternoon playing Tony Hawk 2 on Dreamcast and he walks in and sits down across from me...and doesn't say anything. He's not even really watching me play, he's sort of just staring at this random spot on the ceiling when suddenly, without even looking at me he goes, "Ask me what's better than two naked five year olds."
Now how exactly do you ask that? So I sort of mutter, "What's better than two naked five year olds?"
To which he replies, "Three naked five year olds."
I don't even laugh, I just keep playing my video game. He gets quiet again. A few minutes pass and without ever looking at me he says, "Ask me what's better than three naked five year olds."
I hesitantly ask, "What's better than three naked five year olds?"
To which he responds by staring right at me with anger in his eyes and saying triumphantly, "Are you fucking kidding me? There's nothing better than three naked five year olds."
Now what brings me to this story on a Thursday morning such as today?
Well, for years that had been the most fucked up thing involving five year olds I could imagine...until I saw this: http://www.howmanyfiveyearoldscouldyoutakeinafight.com/
That's right. How many five year old could you take in a fight...
So I followed the link and began to answer the questions. All the while trying to think of how many five year olds I can take in a fight. Now I'm pretty sure I could take two or three full size adults in a fight at this point. Maybe five or six teenagers. At least a dozen eight graders. But then it gets sort of hazy. At what point do the numbers become overpowering? At what point is it the sheer size of the army that undoes you? So I'm thinking I could reasonably destroy approximately seventeen five year olds without so much as a scratch. And the whole time I'm thinking this fucking machine better not tell me that I can only take like six five year olds in a fight because then I'm going to be pissed off. So lo and behold I get my results:
And for a second I'm actually pleased. I'm pretty sure I can take 31 five year olds in a fight, and I'm glad the machine agrees. But then I start thinking. I bet I could take more than that. Which answer did the machine dock me for? Why doesn't the machine think I can take forty five year olds in a fight? or fifty? or one hundred? Fuck this machine.
So now I have to prove the machine wrong. I have to prove that I can take more than 31 five year olds in a fight.
The only question was where could I find more than 31 five year olds in the same place at the same time?
And then I remember who I am.
Oh yeah.
The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round, round and round.
The wheels on the bus go round and round...all through the day.
Now how exactly do you ask that? So I sort of mutter, "What's better than two naked five year olds?"
To which he replies, "Three naked five year olds."
I don't even laugh, I just keep playing my video game. He gets quiet again. A few minutes pass and without ever looking at me he says, "Ask me what's better than three naked five year olds."
I hesitantly ask, "What's better than three naked five year olds?"
To which he responds by staring right at me with anger in his eyes and saying triumphantly, "Are you fucking kidding me? There's nothing better than three naked five year olds."
Now what brings me to this story on a Thursday morning such as today?
Well, for years that had been the most fucked up thing involving five year olds I could imagine...until I saw this: http://www.howmanyfiveyearoldscouldyoutakeinafight.com/
That's right. How many five year old could you take in a fight...
So I followed the link and began to answer the questions. All the while trying to think of how many five year olds I can take in a fight. Now I'm pretty sure I could take two or three full size adults in a fight at this point. Maybe five or six teenagers. At least a dozen eight graders. But then it gets sort of hazy. At what point do the numbers become overpowering? At what point is it the sheer size of the army that undoes you? So I'm thinking I could reasonably destroy approximately seventeen five year olds without so much as a scratch. And the whole time I'm thinking this fucking machine better not tell me that I can only take like six five year olds in a fight because then I'm going to be pissed off. So lo and behold I get my results:
And for a second I'm actually pleased. I'm pretty sure I can take 31 five year olds in a fight, and I'm glad the machine agrees. But then I start thinking. I bet I could take more than that. Which answer did the machine dock me for? Why doesn't the machine think I can take forty five year olds in a fight? or fifty? or one hundred? Fuck this machine.
So now I have to prove the machine wrong. I have to prove that I can take more than 31 five year olds in a fight.
The only question was where could I find more than 31 five year olds in the same place at the same time?
And then I remember who I am.
Oh yeah.
The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round, round and round.
The wheels on the bus go round and round...all through the day.
Junction
This used to happen to me all the time.
It's been happening less and less lately. I get called back to the office in the middle of the night for no good reason all the time, but this is different. This is like it used to be.
I used to shut off the television, go into my bedroom, get undressed, shut the lights off and climb under the sheets. As soon as I closed my eyes the phone would ring. Never fail. It happened every night...every-single-fucking-night. Never fail.
And I would climb out of bed, get dressed, start my car and head back out into the freezing night to go back to work. Every night. Never fail.
Some nights it would happen two or three times. Other nights just that once because I'd never make it home for it to happen again. But it happened so much it damn near drove me crazy. So we worked harder, tried new things, and before long had it almost sorted out. The calls still came, but less frequently, and as luck would have it no longer just as I was getting into bed.
Then tonight. It happened again.
The phone rang.
My father is leaving for Florida in a few weeks, he's just put us on the precipice of what could be a truly destructive calamity, and in general there's a good chance work is about to get a lot tougher.
My personal life isn't exactly bang-o either. I have a girlfriend now. I still can't wrap my head around that. She's fantastic, and I love her to death, but just not in the way that she wants. And she knows that, and I'm sure it pisses her off, but...I'm just not there yet. I don't know if I ever will be. I mean I don't need a girlfriend, but I need her. I need my friends. I need my family. I need me...to be in one piece...and have my shit together right now. And oh boy is my shit not together right now.
The old afflictions are circling, the obsessions starting, the illusions creeping back in. I can't keep my hands busy, I can't keep my mind straight, I can't breathe without thinking about each and every breathe I take.
Some people would say it's the holidays, other people would blame it on the weather, but I know the truth. It's all on me. All...on...me.
We've reached a divide in the road.
Which way will we go?
The phone is ringing.
It's been happening less and less lately. I get called back to the office in the middle of the night for no good reason all the time, but this is different. This is like it used to be.
I used to shut off the television, go into my bedroom, get undressed, shut the lights off and climb under the sheets. As soon as I closed my eyes the phone would ring. Never fail. It happened every night...every-single-fucking-night. Never fail.
And I would climb out of bed, get dressed, start my car and head back out into the freezing night to go back to work. Every night. Never fail.
Some nights it would happen two or three times. Other nights just that once because I'd never make it home for it to happen again. But it happened so much it damn near drove me crazy. So we worked harder, tried new things, and before long had it almost sorted out. The calls still came, but less frequently, and as luck would have it no longer just as I was getting into bed.
Then tonight. It happened again.
The phone rang.
My father is leaving for Florida in a few weeks, he's just put us on the precipice of what could be a truly destructive calamity, and in general there's a good chance work is about to get a lot tougher.
My personal life isn't exactly bang-o either. I have a girlfriend now. I still can't wrap my head around that. She's fantastic, and I love her to death, but just not in the way that she wants. And she knows that, and I'm sure it pisses her off, but...I'm just not there yet. I don't know if I ever will be. I mean I don't need a girlfriend, but I need her. I need my friends. I need my family. I need me...to be in one piece...and have my shit together right now. And oh boy is my shit not together right now.
The old afflictions are circling, the obsessions starting, the illusions creeping back in. I can't keep my hands busy, I can't keep my mind straight, I can't breathe without thinking about each and every breathe I take.
Some people would say it's the holidays, other people would blame it on the weather, but I know the truth. It's all on me. All...on...me.
We've reached a divide in the road.
Which way will we go?
The phone is ringing.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Hi, I'm An Asshole...It's Nice To Meet You.
So here's the thing. And it's not like anyone doesn't know this but...
I'm an asshole.
I've always been an asshole, I always will be an asshole.
It's in my blood.
But...
I'm not a bad asshole.
At least I don't think I am.
I'm a nice guy. I'm difficult in general, but I'm not too tough to get along with. Despite oscillating between being painfully shy and just plain socially awkward I'm often friendly and gregarious. I may be harsh and sometimes unintentionally mean, but I'm also frequently kind, thoughtful, and generous. I don't trust anyone, but I have faith in everybody. I don't love anyone but I love everybody. I cuss like a fucking bandit, but I'm also gracious and eloquent at the drop of a hat. I'm a walking talking 6'3" 350 lb. contradiction.
But...I'm an asshole.
I sometimes wish I could apologize for that.
I'm an asshole.
I've always been an asshole, I always will be an asshole.
It's in my blood.
But...
I'm not a bad asshole.
At least I don't think I am.
I'm a nice guy. I'm difficult in general, but I'm not too tough to get along with. Despite oscillating between being painfully shy and just plain socially awkward I'm often friendly and gregarious. I may be harsh and sometimes unintentionally mean, but I'm also frequently kind, thoughtful, and generous. I don't trust anyone, but I have faith in everybody. I don't love anyone but I love everybody. I cuss like a fucking bandit, but I'm also gracious and eloquent at the drop of a hat. I'm a walking talking 6'3" 350 lb. contradiction.
But...I'm an asshole.
I sometimes wish I could apologize for that.
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
My Life Since The Last Post Told Using Cyanide And Happiness Webcomics
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)