You Line 'Em Up God, I'll Knock 'Em Down.

I just thought you should know boss, I ain't going out like that.

It's on now baby.

And you have no idea what I'm capable of.

No idea.

Be Strong & Stand

"You're sinking."

"I know."


"What are you going to do about it?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Hi.

Remember me?

I'm the guy who really wishes he wasn't...well, anywhere right now.

I got problems.

Where do I start?

Oh yeah...right here.

Teetotaled

"Way I figure if it takes a 12 year old Scotch and a 19 year old Russian to keep me from putting a gun in my mouth at the end of the day, well then, there's really not much reason to argue with it."

Well...there wasn't. I'd stopped drinking for awhile, but then I realized that I really drank so little that it wouldn't affect my problem. So I started drinking just a little bit again. But then I decided that even though I wasn't drinking too much I was drinking more often than I wanted to. So I slowed down again. But now every time I have a drink (which isn't that often) I think 'Should I be drinking this?' which is totally irrational and just pisses me off. But I can't help it.

The other half of that equation is of course a problem in all sorts of different ways. I like go-go bars. I'm not going to go-go bars. This is good because I don't spend money and I'm not drinking. This is bad because I'm friggin' bored. It also makes me feel like an ass when I do go to a certain bar to visit a certain "old friend". As it turns out I really do like talking to her. In fact when I don't talk to her for a few weeks I miss talking to her. How frigged' is that? I've spent almost as much time talking to her in the past year as I have talking to my friends. It's cool to have someone to talk to that it doesn't matter how stupid what you say is because at the end of the night you just fork over some cash and it's like you didn't say anything at all. It's like having a really hot shrink. There's more to it than that of course. In a time where I was desperately searching for anything to help me not lose my god damn mind she was a really big help. I have a hard time forgetting debts like that. Which makes it really suck that I might just have to stop going to visit her altogether.

"But..."

"Don't say it."

"What if I love her?"

"Motherfucker."

Familial

"But you forget, we're Palombas. That means we can do pretty much anything that doesn't involve talent, grace, skill, or intelligence."

I've learned a lot about both sides of my family in the past few weeks. Not necessarily good things, but things I'm glad to know. Everyone is hurting right not for a variety of reasons, everyone is getting ready to face some pretty stiff challenges. Myself included.

What frightens me here though is how much of it will affect me and how little control I'll have over all of it. I want nothing but the best for everyone, but as my father often reminds me I can't save everyone. It's not my job. It's not my responsibility. Nobody expects me to be able to...except me of course. It's one of my fatal flaws. Not only do I want to fix everything...but I really think I can.

"Everybody can see, it's plain as day, we Palomba's, we fall hard. Real hard. But not everybody knows our secret. You see, we may fall hard but...we bounce."

Sacrilege & Blasphemy

"I can't stop the rain, and I can't make the sun come out. But I can tell you it's only water, and there are worse things than being wet."

A certain unfortunate situation has arisen in the past few days. One that is by and large of my own making. I count among my great failures of the past year the fact that I couldn't nip this in the bud last time it came up, but I had really hoped that a year of growth and change would have solved the problem for me. How foolish of me.

And then I had another chance to fix it this year. Another chance to make it go away. But I couldn't do it. I just didn't have it in me. I readily admit now that was a mistake, even though I'm still adamant that it was the right thing to do.

It won't ever sit right with me what I'm about to do.

I can make a lot of excuses, but I know the truth.

I know why I'm really doing what I'm doing. And it makes me sick.

"You hung a man who was meant to hang. What's so wrong about that?"

"Everything Hob. Everything."

Sludge & Monotony

"You don't dull a knife because its blade is too sharp, you simply find tougher things to cut."

Last week at this time I was thinking of taking a vacation. Thinking of finding a new way to get my head sorted out. Trying to break out of this...funk.

A lot's happened since then.

My basement filled with water again. I failed at my resolution to get back to exercising everyday. I haven't been doing great with my diet. My house stinks like shitty dog. I'm constantly tired. I'm bleeding a lot again. Nothing is going very well.

There's an official complaint with the state against me. In the complaint the guy says the he came to me on May 19th, 2004 to ask me about something, but I told him I was too busy to deal with it. May 19th certainly was a busy day for me seeing as I was graduating from SCILS that day, wasn't working at the bus company yet, and hadn't even met the fellow in question at that point. But that's just the sort of week I'm having.

I really don't have a lot going for me right now. In addition to being fuck all crazy I'm coming dangerously close to letting this perpetual melancholy evolve into an actual depression. That scares me a little. I'm also spending entirely too much time alone. This doesn't really help the situation.

But still...

"You don't hold on because everything's perfect. You hold on because there's always just enough that's right to keep holding on to."


Ode To Joy

"A legend ain't a legend just because you say it is. Legends walk the walk."

And finally...

I'm beginning to wonder if I don't work better when everything is going to hell. Beginning to wonder if the potential to right a wrong does more for me then something being right all along. Maybe it's just another way I'm fucked up.

I've been thinking a lot lately about going over the edge and seeing where it takes me, but I know that would just be me asking for a whole lot of hurt that I really don't think I can handle right now. So instead I'll keep on not being normal, keep on being amused by anything and everything that catches my fancy, and keep on trying to figure out exactly how this all works out.

"Are we ever going to be ok?"

"I don't know about you kid, but I'll be just fine."

"No, really..."

"Really? We'll be alright."

"How do you know?"

"I don't. But can you really imagine this ending any other way?"

Focking Smashed: Vignettes

"Strippers and Heroin. Two of my favorite things. Nah, I'm just kidding folks, I've never done heroin. Come to think of it I've never done a stripper either, but a guy can dream." - Lazzy Jones ~

"I think I love her."

"Which one?"

"I can't love both of them?"

"No, I think you'll have to choose."

"What the hell sense does that make? Loving either one of them is totally base and irrational, so how much more irrational could it be if I loved them both?"

"Hey, don't get mad at me. I didn't make up the rules."
~

"I don't know about you, but if I'm not completely shitty in the next fifteen minutes this night has been a complete and utter failure." - T.O. Hob, The Open Bar Theory


~
INT. RESTAURANT - NIGHT

A man sits alone at a table facing a mirrored wall, his back is to the door. The tables all around him are filled with people eating, drinking, celebrating. The door to the restaurant opens, the man sitting at the table, Hob, slowly pulls on his leather gloves, stands up and turns to face the door.

The man standing in the doorway, Groome, is younger than Hob but dressed much the same in a sharp black suit. Groome notices Hob as he turns to face him. Neither man moves.

Hob:

Who sent you?

Groome:

You know who sent me.

Hob:

What's your name?

x

Groome:
My name?

x

Hob:

If they sent you after me it means you're the best they have. In which case there's very little chance either one of us are walking out of here tonight. You already know the name of the man who will kill you. I would expect the same courtesy.

Groome:

They call me Groome.

Hob:

Your full name Groome, none of this agency shorthand.

Groome:

Jacob. Jacob Groome.

Hob:

Thomas Hob.

Groome:

A pleasure to meet you sir.

Hob:

Certainly.

Groome:

Shall we do this?

Hob:

No.

Groome:

No? What happened to you being so sure you could kill me?

Hob:

I already have Groome.

Hob points his gloved hand at Groome again and Groome notices a tear in one of the fingertips. Hob taps his finger against his own chest, Groome glances down at his breast pocket. There is a small hole in his shirt.

Hob: (continued)

A poison tipped projectile, so fine and sharp it will cut through any body armor and pierce the flesh so finely that its target likely wouldn't even know he's been hit. The poison acts fairly quickly, numbness in the jaw within fifteen seconds.

Groome wiggles his jaw. His eyes go wide.

Hob: (continued)

Total loss of motor functions just inside of thirty. Paralysis sets within a minute. Death follows shortly after.

Groome falls to his knees.

Hob: (continued)

So you see Mr.Groome, I have killed you.

Groome's lips move, no words come out.

Hob: (continued)

They didn't send you here to kill me Mr.Groome, they sent you as a message. It's their way of letting me know that they won't be letting me go. That they'll keep sending boys like you to do a man's job. No Mr.Groome they didn't send you here to kill me, they sent you here to die.

Groome's face contorts in pain.

Hob: (continued)

Open your mouth boy.

Hob removes a vial of liquid from his inner pocket and twists the top off. With one hand he yanks Groome's mouth open, with the other he tips the liquid into Groome's mouth. He pushes the boy to the ground. Groome suddenly gasps for air.

Groome:

What...

Hob crouches down next to Groome and pulls his head up by the hair.

Hob:

They killed you. I give you life. The antidote takes about fifteen minutes to do its work which will give me a comfortable head start in case you haven't seen the light. I can see the confusion in your eyes. I've killed but I'm not a killer. That's your lot. If you want to see the real bad guy here, look in the mirror. They sent you as a message Groome, and now I do the same. You head back to the Arch and you tell Garrison and any other of those right bastards who will listen that I'm not running anymore. All I wanted was for them to leave me and mine alone, but they couldn't even do that. You tell them that they can stop looking for me now, because I'm coming for them.

Hob lets go of Groome's hair and his head smacks the floor with a dull thud, drool runs from his lips. Hob opens the door to the outside, pauses, and turns back.

Hob:

And Groome, if I were you I wouldn't be standing too close to any of those pricks when I come for them. Few enough men have lived after crossing me once...no one's ever survived crossing me twice.

Hob heads out into the darkness, the door closes behind him. The other occupants of the restaurant stand stunned, no one stirring to check on Groome.

~

"Your day can not possibly have been worse than mine."

"Really? My washing machine doesn't work, my house is a mess, someone broke my dragon statue, my company is going nuts, I have $500,000 on my desk but somehow I'm still piss broke. My computer is all frigged up, my backup computer has a virus, I got sued on my lunch break...again. I have a pile of complaints three feet high, seven hours of work to do before I can go home and my basement is filled with shit, like literally shit, yeah, you know the brown stuff that comes out your asshole? All over the fucking place."

"You win."
~

Marwood: There's a man over there who doesn't like the perfume. The big one. Don't look, don't look! We're in danger, we've got to get out.

Withnail: What are you talking about?

Marwood: I've been called a ponce.

Withnail: What FUCKER said that?

Irishman: I called him a ponce. And now I'm calling you one, PONCE!

Withnail: Would you like a drink?

Irishman: What's your name, MacFuck?

Withnail: ...I have a heart condition. I have a heart condition, if you hit me it's murder.

Irishman: I'll murder the pair of yous!

- from Withnail & I

~

"Are you takin' the fuckin' piss? It means yeh spend too much time playin' wi' yerself. Yeh've got yer head stuck up yer own aresehole. WANKER: NOUN. ONE WHO WANKS. Am I gettin' through to yeh, do yeh think? All right, look, I'm sorry. I know this is yer place an' everything. It's just a bit of a...well, a disappointment really."

"How so?"

"Because I've been wanderin' round the world for three quarters of a fuckin' century, watchin' all me mates dyin' or gettin' old, an' now I finally find someone else who's gonna live forever an'--well. It turns out he's a bit've a prick."

- from Cassidy: Blood & Whiskey from Preacher

~

"She's got a voice like pure sugar and everytime I hear it I just think she's so sweet I want to eat her right up."

"You're a twisted fuck."

"What?"

"That's focking cannabalism what you're talking about it is."

"No, I don't actually mean I want to eat her up. It's a euphemism."

"Euphe-what? Ah wait, I get it, a sex thing. A wee bit of the old cunning linguist eh? Eh? You old dog."

"No, I mean, just forget it."

"Yeah, I'll forget it. Just like you'll forget it. All night long, right? Right?"

"You really are retarded aren't you?"

"Only half, on me muther's side."

~

"You know I really don't think today could have possibly been any worse."

"You could have found out you have herpes."

"Ha, yeah. You're right Otto, that would have made it worse."

"Aye Lazzy, I've got something tell you."

"What's that Otto?"

"Doctor called. Says you've got herpes."

~
"Shit is an acquired taste, eat it long enough and eventually you just get used to it." - Lazzy Jones

Aaaaaaannnndd...I'm out!

Burn Baby Burn

At what point do you decide that since your life is already a total (albeit amazing) disaster and that you're already going to hell you might as well just say fuck it and have a good time?

Anybody?

Very often we don't do things we want to do because we're afraid we won't be able to deal with the consequences.

I can deal with the consequences, so what's stopping me from going off?

I've just realized.

I still think I'm the good guy.

I still think I have a chance.

What a fool...

Praise Jesus

Wow...

So this morning I worked for a little bit, then hung out with the Rookie for awhile, stopped at Joker's Child and picked up some comics, set up a shelf with my Bowen Faux Bronze statues on it and went to lunch at the worst Chinese restaurant I've ever been to (I know they're Chinese, but didn't anyone tell them pizza's not supposed to be squishy?).

Turns out my basement flooded again last night (even though there hasn't been rain in days) and I didn't get half the stuff I planned on getting done done. I did write a little this afternoon, and I did eat some left over turkey. So that was all good.

By six o'clock or so it was beginning to look like I wasn't going out tonight so I began to hunker down for what was shaping up to be a painful night. Then the guys decided they wanted to go to the movies, so I cleaned up and headed over to the mall to meet them. First though I stopped at my mom's to say goodnight to the kids, at the liquor store to pick up some bourbon, and then headed by the office to make sure everything was locked up tight.

On the way to the office however I ran into a slight problem. Coming down the hill on Haledon Avenue towards Paterson traffic splits into two lanes at several lights. One is only for left hand turns, the other is only to go straight. I was coming up on a light with a silver mustang next to me, they were in the left hand lane with their signal on to make a left. I was in the right hand lane intending to go straight. Just before we hit the intersection the light turned yellow, there was plenty of time to make it. It wouldn't have even been close, until the mustang decided to go straight out of the left lane and almost ran me off the road. It wouldn't have been such an egregious driving foul but for the reason that it made me tag the breaks as I hit the intersection, which meant the light turned red as I was in the intersection. The car behind me was right up my ass so I couldn't stop hard and fall short of the intersection. I essentially had to run the red light. I didn't think it was that big of a deal. The cop two cars behind me apparently did.

The minute he stepped up to my window I admitted that I knew why he pulled me over and asked rather politely if he had seen what happened, he said he did, but took my license and registration anyway. He took entirely too long to run my info, but I honestly wasn't in a rush so I didn't mind. I was pretty certain I wasn't getting a ticket, I wasn't bullshitting the guy and he was straight with me so I felt pretty good about my chances. Except it was starting to piss me off that he was clearly cooking me just to make a point. When he finally came back over he told me he wasn't giving me a summons, but next time he would. I told him I appreciated that and was on my way. I really did appreciate him not giving me a ticket because he certainly could have even though it wasn't my fault. I had after all ran the red light, and admitted it. So it was nice of him to take the circumstances under consideration, particularly because he had seen it all. But at the same time having seen what happened he could have just not pulled me over, or even pulled me over and just told me to be more careful.

So I eventually make it up to the movie (we're seeing Role Models), we're there pretty early so we get seats no problem. But as it gets closer to showtime the theater is starting to get crowded. There's one seat empty to my left, one empty between me and Sean, then Kevin and Jere are directly next to him and one seat empty to their right. Just before the lights dim a teenage black girl sits to my left. As the movie starts a teenage Hispanic girl asks if the seat to my right is taken and then asks the others to slide down one so her and her friend can sit together. The guys move, so now it's the one girl to my left and these two other girls to my right and then the guys. This doesn't sound important, but stay with me here. While the previews are rolling the girl to my left is absolutely cackling at every remotely funny thing. During the horror movie preview she's literally screaming, laughing, and yelling "Oh shit!" all in the same breath. I'm trying not to obviously laugh at her. But then she starts talking at me. Not talking to me, but talking at me. Like, "OHMYGOD DID YOU SEE THAT?" or "THAT'S FUCKED UP WHAT SHE DONE DID!" She keeps turning to me and yelling stuff like that, and then turning to the couple to her left and doing the same thing. She's talking (half the time to herself) through the entire movie. I don't mind because she's friggin' hysterical.

But if you remember there's also a pair of girls to my right. I'd almost forgotten about them until I turned away from the crazy girl so she wouldn't see me laughing at her only to get an eyeful of the girls on my right totally making the fuck out. I mean heavy petting, full on Frenching, sucking on each other's necks making out.

At this point I can no longer concentrate on the movie. Crazy girl to my left has a pizza box from the concession stand and she's waving it in the air, banging it like a drum, and slapping it against her knee at every even slightly funny thing that happens on screen. She's shaking crumbs all over me, rattling around so much in her seat that she's damn near constantly bouncing off me. Lesbo chicks to my right still haven't come up for air and the one directly next to me is shaking like a wet cat in the cold to the point where even my seat is vibrating just a little. Paul Rudd is saying something about something on screen and I'm sitting there thinking, "Holy shit. This is the greatest movie I've ever seen."

Lesbo chicks finally calm down a little, Crazy girl never does but I sort of get used to it and besides she decided she likes the couple to her left better than me because she's practically jumping over the armrest to harangue them everytime something funny happens on screen. The movie is actually pretty damn good ("Me and the judge have a special relationship... I don't wanna get too graphic but I sucked his dick for drugs.") and I really can't think of a better worst movie going experience in my life.

So all in all the night was pretty good. I got to see a good movie, got to watch two chicks make out, and got to watch a crazy bitch act like a crazy bitch for two straight hours. Really, I think my Saturday night could have been a lot worse.

How was yours?

Walt Motherfucking Disney

"I know that look."

"What look?"

"The one you just gave that girl in there."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You're twitterpated."

"Twitterpated?"

"Yes. Twitterpated. You're walking along, minding your own business. You're looking neither to the left, nor to the right, when all of a sudden you run smack into a pretty face. Woo-woo! You begin to get weak in the knees. Your head's in a whirl. And then you feel light as a feather, and before you know it, you're walking on air. And then you know what? You're knocked for a loop, and you completely lose your head! Twitterpated."

"Wait a minute, are you quoting Bambi?"

"Sure am. Doesn't change a thing though. I'm still right, and you're still twitterpated."

"Alright. I admit it, I'm twitterpated. But that doesn't mean I have to like it."

"No sir it does not indeed."

"Stop talking like that."

"Like what?"

"Like the friendly goddamn owl."
~

Thursday went remarkably well. I was up early to go to work, stopped in for my morning hot chocolate, and headed over to my mom's house where I played games with the kids for something like five hours. I actually had some turkey there before heading down to Bayonne. As always I was a little cautious about spending time with my dad's side of the family. I think I mentioned here that it would be the first holiday I'd ever spent with them, but my mother corrected me and said it was the first holiday I remember. Apparently when I was real little we used to all spend the holidays together. It's actually sort of sad I was too young to remember that. It took me a few minutes to get square on exactly who everyone was, but after that it was a pretty good time. We had run of the bar and though my Uncle Junior kept trying us to run the top shelf stuff I stuck to a single glass of the moderately priced Oban. I also skipped desert and didn't take second of anything, so I did sort of well for the day. After the restaurant we stopped in at my Aunt's house. It's their first holiday without my cousin James I believe, and my cousin Bridget had gone out to California to see James so they had a half empty house, but they seemed to be handling it well. It was good to see them too.
~

"If smelling like Scotch at seven in the morning is wrong, I don't want to be right."

~
Yesterday quickly turned into a complete waste of a day. I was too tired to really do anything productive, and too ambitious to really do nothing all day. So I picked up some plumbing supplies so I could do some work today and then picked up some new quills and ink so I could do some writing last night. I went through several stages of madness, but nothing as bad as I have in other recent days. It was good to get some stuff down on the page, made me feel a little better to tell the truth. I also avoided doing something I didn't really want to do. It's tough sometimes, when no one's around, nothing is going on, and you just need to get out of the house. You get a little cabin fever. You get a little twitchy. But I locked my shit down, and dealt with it. I didn't go as deep as I felt like I could. If that makes any sense to anyone.

So today I've just about finished up my office obligations, going to go home and do some work on the basement, then maybe clean up and stop by the comic shop to pick up the rest of Preacher. Maybe stop at Best Buy and pick up a few DVD's and then after that, who knows?
~

"Twitterpated?"

"Jesus Christ."

"You actually opened a post using the word twitterpated. That's embarrassing."

"You know I've quoted Nietzsche, Proust, Poe, Pessoa, Socrates, Plato, Descartes, The Bible, and about a million other poets, writers, and philosophers and nobody says a goddamn word. I quote Walt motherfucking Disney one time and it's like the whole world's gone to shit. Why exactly is that?"

"You said twitterpated."

"Shut-up."

Thanks Giving...

This morning I am reminded of how different my life could be. All over town my friends are waking up in their warm little beds in their neat little houses, rolling over and kissing their pretty wives and saying "Happy Thanksgiving." And they certainly do have a great deal to give thanks for.

Some are newly married, still early on in their marital bliss. Others are expecting children in the next year, and in that way are truly blessed. And yet others are still planning, still designing, still creating their lives together.

Good for them.

And then there are others still working hard, still muddling through, living good lives and still discovering new and interesting things about themselves and the people that surround them.

Some of them are rebuilding after tragedy or collapse, others finding new ways to do old things. Some of them are reaching new points in their lives, standing on the precipice of life changing events, getting ready for whatever great thing comes next.

Some of them are happy, some of them are afraid they'll never be happy again. Some of them see what they have to be thankful for, and others are still trying to figure it out.

And then there's me.

I've spent so much of my life turning myself into a monster so that I wouldn't have to push people away. For many reasons I needed to be able to keep people at a distance and it was simply easier this way.

If I had to go back, I don't think I would change that. There are things I could have done differently, things I could have done better. But for the most part things are the way they had to be. But now what?

Now that I've reached the end of one path can I find my way back so that I can try another?

I don't know.

I don't know.

Sometimes the things we do cannot be undone.

But then again...

Happy Thanksgiving.

The Jesus Lobotomy: Redux

Lost for a moment amidst the mess and muddle of another interesting Monday was the simple fact that the world has changed yet again. A myriad of throw away lines and less than important moments from the weekend past congealed throughout the day until they formed a single amalgamous (not actually a word is it?) chunk of reality that screamed, "Oh shit. Things are different again ain't they?"

But seriously. There are several situations that have been weighing heavy on my mind lately. If you read this or know me you can probably tell that. The least serious situation (the thing I should worry least about) has spent the most time on my mind as of late. So I found it on this morning to realize that I really hadn't thought about it in the past day or so. It wasn't like I was trying to forget about it, trying not to let it bother me. I said or did something that sort of pushed it from my mind and then it sort of got swept away in everything else that was going on. It was both a good feeling and a bad feeling. I've done worse things to forget about my troubles, found other ways of coping. But it seems sometimes that just letting things slide, even if for just a little while, does the trick well enough.

But now onto a slightly sadder note. I haven't been talking too much about the collection lately because I haven't been adding too much, just fine tuning a few sections and waiting on long ago ordered pieces to trickle in. Then we'll start thinking about adding things. As any collector will tell you having a great number of pieces is nice, but it's really your favorites that make the collection. They're not always the best pieces or most expensive pieces, sometimes they're just a piece that has a story behind it, or a piece that holds sentimental value for you. As any collector will also tell you shit happens. When you're dealing with fragile things it's only a matter of time before something gets damaged. A paint chip, a snapped limb, a hairline crack. Shit happens. Most of that you can have repaired or you can just get used to. Or you can just replace the piece altogether. A lot of these things are made by the thousands, so even if it's pricey, there is a replacement out there somewhere. Except sometimes there isn't. And a few weeks ago one of my one of a kind pieces of art work was ruined. Funny thing is, I didn't realize it until yesterday. The Joker painting I got at Wizard World Philly last spring immediately became one of the prizes of my collection. It wasn't expensive or even done by a famous artist. It was just cool. And it reminded me of a good weekend. It's had a place of honor on the wall behind my desk since the day I bought it. I see it everyday when I walk into the office. Thing about stuff like that is, you sort of stop actually looking at it at some point. You see it everday, just for a second, and you sort of stop noticing it. You take for granted that it's the same, because why the hell wouldn't it be?

A few weeks ago I mentioned here that while one of the guys working for me was cleaning my office he had decided it would be a good idea to try and clean my collection with his own homemade mix of Fabulouso and other stringent chemicals despite being specifically told not to touch any of my stuff. The problem is that this guy has OCD when it comes to cleaning. It's what makes him good at cleaning the office and the busses, but he just can't help himself sometimes. Even though he was told not to touch my stuff, he still tried to clean it. Luckily one of my managers caught him before he did too much damage to the shelves or any of the statues. I remember walking in that day and thinking, "Hey that painting looks funny." But I was quickly distracted by checking the statues and then dealing with everything else that goes on in a normal day here. I never gave the painting a second thought. Until last night.

The painting is behind my desk, so all day my back is to it. Last night when things finally got quiet, I glanced over my shoulder at it for a second and my mind quickly went "What the hell?" See there used to be a small amount of yellow in the painting...and now it was gone. And then I realized a lot of the red was gone too...I couldn't figure out what was going on. Maybe it was my imagination. Maybe there was never yellow, or never that much red. Maybe I was wrong. And then I noticed...the artist's signature was gone. Son of a bitch. I know that was there.

Now that I was finally paying close attention I realized I could see streaks that weren't there before...as if someone tried to scrub the picture clean. The majority of the painting is done in black on one side of a transparency. The rest is done in color on the other side, the exposed side. And the guy who was cleaning the office HAD WIPED ALMOST ALL THE PAINT ON THE EXPOSED SIDE OFF...

He was so anal he had tried to clean the painting, and when he realized it was going wrong he had still continued to scrub until the exposed side of the transparency was nearly clean. Then, afraid to say anything, he simply packed up and left.

BEFORE IDIOT




AFTER IDIOT




Now I know what you're thinking (not because I'm psychic, just because it's obvious), "That's a pretty big difference, HOW THE HELL DIDN'T YOU NOTICE THAT ?!?!" But let's keep in mind here that I've spent the better part of the last few weeks trying to not blow my god damn brains out or let the world get sucked into some sort of hellgate vortex type thingy and you can forgive my inattention to a god damn painting. But now that I'd noticed I was absolutely livid.

And then I thought about it. It's a painting. A painting I loved, true, an important painting...but just a painting. Am I going to fire a guy who really thought he was helping over this? A guy who has a family to support? Nah...that's not me. I mean, I might lose my shit and kill him later, but right now...forgive and forget. Of course I have to take the painting down because every ten seconds I glance over my shoulder and cringe.

But still, it's just a painting. There are more important things...

Like this...



Yeah...that's right.

Ha...

My name is Chris Palomba...and I'm still standing.

A Montague

Would That I Be Romeo

"If wanting were a country, then I would be its king."

It wasn't always like this. I learned a long time ago not to want things I can't have. I learned a long time ago to be happy with the many great things I do have, the many great people I have in my life, the places I've been, the things I've seen. Be happy with all that it is right to be happy with and when the madness takes me at the very least I have a chance. I have something to fall back into. I have an escape. They can't get you if you have an escape.


But something has changed in the last little while. I want something now. It's not something I can have. It's not something I should want. But I do. And that's not necessarily a bad thing. Except that deep down I know it is. The more time I spend fighting it though the tougher it becomes to fight other things. Great armies fall to a divided front, what chance does a single man have up against the same?


So I come to grips with the way the world is changing, learn to deal with what I've become. When the smoke clears I'll either still be standing...or I won't.


"I look like a shaved gorilla with twenty pounds of ground beef for a head. No dame that looks like that could be into me unless she wanted somethin'. I learned that a long time ago." - The Goon, The Goon: Nothin' But Misery



Truth Will Out

"You're not going to make it."

"What?"

"You're not going to make it."

"Yes I am. Why would you say that?"

"Because it's the truth. You're not going to make it. You may get close, you may get real close. But almost isn't is. And you're not going to make it."

"Yeah...I know."

"Then why bother?"

"Could I look them in the eyes if I didn't?"

"You wouldn't have to."

"Doesn't make it right."

"So you're really going to try and pull this off?"

"Hell yeah I am."

"Fine. Just as long as you know..."

"Yeah, I'm not going to make it, I get it."

"No, you don't. We're not going to make it."

On Strength

If- by Rudyard Kipling

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!


It is an unfortunate fact that we often only recognize strength in others when it stands in stark contrast to our own weakness. We marvel at others ability to say 'no' when they want to say 'yes', to speak up when it would be easier to remain silent, to do things and go places that we only dream of. We are most impressed by strength when it makes us feel weak.

It is also true that we often fail to recognize our own true strengths until the odd instance of happenstance forces us to draw from some reserve within us that we had not previously been aware of. And that all too often we fail to see the strength within us that seems so clear to others.

So tonight we ask God to help us to find a true appreciation for the strengths of others, no matter what they may be, and draw inspiration from it. And tonight we ask God to help us find our own strength so that others may be inspired by us.

Survival of the Illest

I don't know how I make it sometimes. I don't know how I'm still here. Sometimes I go deep on purpose, I put myself there so I can control it. I put myself in the hole because knowing how I got there is sometimes the only thing that allows me to find a way out. Sometimes it works. And then other times it most certainly does not.

Friday night was one of those times where it didn't work. Friday night was bad. But I made it, I survived. And Saturday I was better because of it. Exhausted...but better. I struggled all morning to find the words to properly describe the things that had happened, the places I had gone. But I couldn't. Nothing changed, nothing was better. But I was better. It's part of the madness.

Yesterday my cousins' Bridget and Shannon came up from Bayonne and went with my sister and I over to Garden State to see Twilight. I thought the book was decent but I wasn't too excited about the movie. My sister and cousin were. About ten minutes into the movie I noticed there were a lot of girls laughing at things I didn't think were funny. So I leaned over to my one cousin and asked what I was missing. Turns out they weren't laughing because it was funny. It was girlish giggling. Have you ever heard the noise four hundred pre-pubescent girls swooning at the exact same time makes? Pray that you never have to. It can be very disconcerting. After the movie we went to The Grand Lux Cafe for dinner, it was nice but the four of us were sort of ridiculous (there's a story about eating duck that I won't tell). By the time we left the mall I was about $400 poorer then when I started. But we did get chocolate covered apples and a board game that none of us could figure out how to play but had a great amount of fun with anyway. ("Danny's a fairie." "I'm a rhinestone cowboy. And I want to try Viagra.") Once the cousins went home Danny, Lila, and I watched Wall-E. I'd never seen it before, but it was great. Ten minutes in I looked at the kids and asked, "Is it going to be simultaneously cute and depressing for the entire movie? Because I don't think I can deal with that right now." It was the best day I've had in a really long time.

If yesterday was the best day that I've had in awhile tonight was the best night I've had in just as long. Antioch 2009 is officially well under way now, we have a song (it's good.) a t-shirt color (it's not) and a theme (I think it's good...but I can't actually remember what it is right now). I will never be able to put into words exactly how great the people I've met through Antioch are. And this group is no different. We went to Applebees for dinner after the meeting and if the lot of us had laughed any louder they probably would have asked us to leave because we were disrupting the other customers. I think my face was bright red for at least half the time in the restaurant (Partly because I was laughing so hard and partly because we're so comfortable around each other that we are often hilariously crude to the point where even I , having no compunctions about talking about anything (see pretty much anything here as evidence) actually blush in embarrassment). So yeah, we're off to a hell of a start and I have no doubt that we'll end up with a hell of a finish too.

So I've survived this far. And I have no doubt I'll keep on doing just that...surviving. It's sort of become my own personal mantra as of late. Just make it to tomorrow. Just make it to tomorrow so it can all start again.

Seven: Zero Year & Momentary Failures

"Why do you smell like perfume?"

"Uh...maybe it's my cologne."

"No. I know that smell, it's the same perfume my roommate wears."

"Yeah, well, funny story about that..."

In the past seven days I've drank entirely too much. By my count I've had nine Jack and Coke's and a bottle of red wine in the past week. That may not seem like too much spread over seven days, but it's too much for me.

In the past seven days I've let my "diet" go totally to shit. I ate a cheeseburger, pizza, and a chicken sandwich so covered in greasy gobby shit that I couldn't even guarantee you there was chicken in there. I also haven't exercised at all, and I was struggling for a bit with the exercise there in the first place.

In the past seven days I've spent too much money. Like enough money that I could have started my own small third world country. If you know me you don't have to guess what kinds of things I've spent this money on (expensive liquor, cheap women, giant f*ing bronze comic book statues). But you can guess what kind of numbers we're talking.

So in the past seven days I've totally failed at everything I've done. Absolutely everything. I haven't been any good at work, if I have any friends left I probably haven't been very good to them, I was useless at Antioch, I've barely spent time with the kids. I'm not reading, barely writing, and have done nothing remotely creative. I have played quite a bit of XBOX, but I'm not even doing very well at that. So in the past seven days I've totally failed.

I'm depressed, unmotivated, totally falling apart and a complete mess.

Except...I'm not.

In reality I feel better than I have in weeks. I was sort of touch and go for awhile there. I was beginning to wonder what it would take for me to break out of this one. Things had been steadily getting worse since early October and even though pretty early on there I realized that things were going to be ok, that this wasn't the big one I knew it was going to be a big one. It wasn't going to be easily to pull out of this funk. And sure enough we're quickly coming up on December and I'm still at the mercy of the beast so to speak. Right now things should be far worse than they have been at any point since things started going wrong in my head. And instead I'm sitting here at my desk, just past midnight, thinking about all the millions of little outs I have in this situation. Realizing that what's been stymieing me these past few months isn't the lack of an out, the lack of a solution, it's the lack of an obvious out, or a good solution. There are literally a million ways this could go. I just haven't chosen one yet.

Now I know I can't do the things I did tonight every night (if I did I'd probably be dead in a week), and in fact I should probably never do most of them again, but if tonight it was what I had to do to survive well...no harm, no foul. I'm still learning, still figuring this all out. I'm going to make mistakes. Lots of them. Truly horrible ones in fact. But I'll take comfort in the fact that I learn from my mistakes. I won't be making the same mistakes over and over again, no, I'll be finding new and interesting ways to make mistakes on a regular basis. And in the end I'll be ok. Not great, or fantastic, or even good...just ok.

I will never be normal, but I don't want to be normal anymore. I just want to be me, so instead of working on being normal I'm just going to try and focus on working on being a better me. If that makes any sense at all. The Zero Year kick off didn't go very well the other night, but I suppose the good thing about deciding to start over again is that it kind of leaves the door open to starting over again...again. So here we go.

Tonight I start again. The clock resets.

Zero Year...take two.

Final War: Massive Missives And The Most Awkward Entry Ever

Lost Men Lost

"Where are you going?"

"Out."

"Out where?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business."

"I'm making it my business Thomas. They're coming for you tonight, and if you're not here it will fall on me to explain where you are."

"Tell them I fucked off, and they can fuck off right after me for all you care."

"I'd do that Thomas but then they'd be as likely to kill me as they are to kill you when they find you. Why not make a stand right here? I'll fight by your side. The two of us have a better chance against them if we go at it together."

"We wouldn't last five minutes John and you know it. No, I'm running. I suggest you consider doing the same."

"Run and they'll catch you Thomas."

"Stay and they won't have to John. Ends the same either way."

"Then we better get going."

"Right. Let's go."


An Interlude of Penises

ACT 1, SCENE 1

Curtain Up. A young man with frizzy brown hair wearing a black mock turtleneck sits perched on a stool in the center of the stage. He sips at a cup of tea as the spotlight slowly wells up illuminating him fully.

Young Man: I've seen entirely too many cocks in my life. I don't know what a happy number of penises for a straight young man to have seen would be, but I'm certain that it's far less than what I've seen. Far far less. Thing is you stop counting after a certain point. Doesn't mean you're starting to like it, hell I could tell you exactly how many pussies I've seen and I love pussy. But after you've seen so many penises they all start to look alike, they all start to blend into one big phallic hodgepodge of wrinkled foreskins and fuzzy old balls. I'm sure I can't be the only one who's seen an unhealthy amount of dick, but no one ever talks about it. There's some sort of American taboo against young men discussing in a purely innocent sort of way other young men's privates. Vagina got an entire monologue, penises can barely get an interlude.

Last Night Under The Stars

If it hadn't been so cold he probably never would have noticed the girl. She sat quietly under the railroad tressel, her legs pulled tight to her body and her head tucked down deep in the hood of her sweatshirt. Most nights he would have walked right past her, never giving her a second thought. But in this cold the sight of her struck him as odd. He'd walked more than half the four kilometers from where his truck broke down to his home and not seen a single other person. And then he saw her.

She was hurting, bad. She hadn't realized how cold it had been when she snuck out of the house. She'd covered up her small dress with a large baggy hooded sweatshirt and stuffed its pockets with her make-up. She'd stopped at the service station to put on her lipstick and eyeliner and blush just like she'd done dozens of times before. If her parents caught her sneaking out she'd be in trouble, if they caught her sneaking out all dressed up she'd be dead. They'd know she was going to see him, and they explicitly forbid her from seeing him.

He stood there, a good fifty paces off, and lit a cigarette. He could see from a distance that she was young, and she was pretty. But he could not see from all that far away if she was someone local, someone he might know or who might know him. He also couldn't tell if she was hurt. He knew something was wrong though, it was too cold for anyone to just be sitting there. He had to think.

Things had started to go wrong for her when she came out of the restroom at the service station. Where there had been on one but the attendant before now there were three boys, she didn't recognize them from her school, but she got the sense they were all locals. She didn't like the way they looked at her and she just wanted to get away from them very quickly. The one boy asked her for a cigarette and with shaky hands she pulled a half empty pack from her small purse. When she offered one cigarette to him he tore the whole pack from her hand and tossed it amongst his friends. The smallest of the three boys asked for a light, but instead of waiting for a response reached out and grabbed her purse. She let him take it, and then she ran. They chased her. She ran past all the small houses, and past a few businesses till she found herself running through an open field. She tripped and fell more than once, painfully twisting her ankle, but she kept running. When she finally stopped she was alone...and cold.

Opportunity doesn't knock twice he thought as he tossed the cigarette butt away and approached the girl. She looked up as she heard him come closer and he could see that she'd been crying. He stopped a few feet away from her, not wanting to get too close, and asked if she was ok. She shook her head no and pointed at her swollen ankle. She said she was cold. He gave her his jacket and then offered her a cigarette. He took her ankle in his hands and carefully examined it, he told her she'd be just fine, but that he'd have to help her walk to his home where he would call for help. She agreed, happy to finally see a friendly face on a night like this. She put one arm around his shoulder and he helped her to her feet. She leaned on him for support, and they began to slowly move along. He said something about how beautiful the stars were that night. She smiled up at him, he smiled down at her. He thought how pretty she looked when she smiled as he slowly fingered the switchblade in his pocket and casually wondered how long this one would last.

Eager

EXT. TOP DECK OF PARKING GARAGE - NIGHT

A young woman fumbles with her keys while trying to open her car. She shivers in the cold night air, and her shaky hands make it even more difficult for her key to find its' mark. She startles as a young man approaches her.

Young Woman:

I didn't see you there.

Young Man:

I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you.

Young Woman:

No it's ok. I just get a little nervous being out here all alone.

Young Man:
Well now you're not alone, I'm here.

Young Woman:

Right. But really it's ok. You don't need to stick around, I'll be fine.

Young Man:
Oh it's no bother. Really. I didn't have anywhere to be.

Young Woman:
Suit yourself.

Young Man:
I saw you in the cafe earlier, and I thought I would like to say hello to you.

The young woman stops trying to open her car and stands up straight, taking a measured step away from the young man.

Young Man:
Oh, no. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to be...weird. I hope I didn't scare you, really. God I'm stupid. I wasn't even thinking, here I am almost a total stranger meeting you in a dark parking garage and I go and say something creepy like that. You must think...

Young Woman:
I really should be going.

Young Man:
No, please, give me a second. This is all going horribly wrong. I thought maybe you would remember me...

Young Woman:
From the cafe?

Young Man:
No, we were at university together.

Young Woman:
What?

Young Man:
We were at university together a few years back, we had some of the same classes. I asked you out once.

Young Woman:
I don't remember, did it go as poorly as this?

Young Man:
Yes, actually it did. Your boyfriend showed up while I was trying to convince you to go see a movie with me and he proceeded to beat the living crap out of me.

Young Woman:
Oh, yeah, that was when I was dating Roger. I'd forgotten about that. That was so long ago, I didn't recognize you.

Young Man:
Right, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have thought you would, it's just that was a pretty memorable moment from my school days. Getting your face pounded in the middle of the quads kind of stands out you know.

Young Woman:
Yeah, Roger turned out to not be a very nice guy.

Young Man:
I could have told you that then.

Young Woman:
Yeah I guess you could have.

Young Man:
Look, I'm sorry for scaring you. And I've already taken up too much of your time, I just wanted to say that you look great, and it was real good seeing you.

Young Woman:
You too. You know I remember thinking you were cute. And if I hadn't been dating Roger, I might have said yes when you asked me out.

Young Man:
Really?

Young Woman:
Really. Goodnight.

Young Man:
Goodnight.

The Young Woman gets in the car, waves goodbye and starts to pull off. The Young Man watches as her car turns the corner and heads down the ramp to the next level. He shakes his head and begins to run towards the steps. He takes the steps three at a time, hopping railings, sliding down entire levels. He reaches the ground level and makes a mad dash for the exit. When he gets there it looks like he is already too late. Her car is nowhere in sight. He shrugs defeated. And then her car pulls up behind him. She puts it in park and gets out.

Young Woman:
What are you doing?

Young Man:
What about now?

Young Woman:
What?

Young Man:
You said if you weren't seeing anyone back when I first asked you out you might have said yes. And I'm asking what about now. If I asked you out right now, what would you say?

The young woman thinks for a second.

Young Woman:
I might say yes.

The Young Man smiles, the Young Woman smiles back.

Women

One of the most awkward moment's of my young adult life occurred in the local ice cream shop early in my freshman year of college. There were three of us sitting around a white plastic picnic table eating ice cream and chatting with the man who at the time ran the shop. He'd been there since we were all little kids and he was the type of guy who everyone liked, everyone respected. He was great with kids and adults alike. He always hired young attractive girls to work behind the counter and the girl working there that day was no different. She was so pretty I could barely look at her for fear I'd go all soft in the head and start to ramble uncontrollably.

All three of us sitting at the table were going to very different colleges and as conversations tend to do among young men the talk quickly turned towards women. This is when the ice cream shop owner decided to interject saying, "There's a lot of Asian girls down there, right?" Someone agreed and he continued, "You know the problem with Asian girls right? No tits." He then proceeded to turn to the young girl at the counter and ask if she agreed. She must have been all of fifteen years old and absolutely mortified but she sort of shook her head and went back to what she was doing. I wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and die of shame right then and there. I was horrified at the man who I had known since I was a child's sudden change in tone and demeanor, I was still locked in the mindset that people were the same all the time, and didn't change totally depending on who they were around. I was horrified that this pretty young girl felt so uncomfortable (add to that the fact that I just this second remembered who the girl was, makes you wonder how solid my recollection of the day really is). And I was horrified that I couldn't change the subject. The very next thing one of the guys said was that one of our friends had told him that he'd never really been into Asian girls, but since going to college and being absolutely surrounded by them he was now really into Asian girls. I found this funny and, like many things at the time, didn't totally understand the concept.

I think of this story today for three reasons.

First, I was just watching this show on MOJO called Getting Abroad. This guy travels around the world trying to learn local dating customs. He tries to learn these customs by trying to pick up women. Great show. Today he was in Kyoto, Japan. Ignoring the fact that the first half dozen girls he tried to pick up were underage and he seemed genuinely mortified when he realized I found the show really funny and interesting. I can't get a date here in the states so I doubt I would get a date abroad, but the very concept of the show amuses me.

Second, I'm dying to see the new James Bond movie. I wanted to go see it last week but I didn't get around to it. This weekend I have to take my sister and cousin's to see Twilight so I probably won't get around to it again. I really want to see the movie because I've always been a James Bond fan. I also want to see it because Olga Kurylenko is in it and she's f'in hot. Like really hot. Like really really really hot. She's from the Ukraine, which is pretty much Russia, which feeds nicely into the fact that lately Russian women have just really been pushing my buttons. It's probably because most of the girls in the go-go bars are Russian and that's where I've been hanging out the past year. I'm curious to see if now that I'm laying off the go-go bar thing my minor fascination with Eastern European women quickly fades. Either way I'm pretty sure I'll still think Olga Kurylenko is hot.

Third, I really need to figure out what the hell is going on with me. I already know what's going on is not normal (obviously it's not normal for normal people, but it's also not normal for me). I just don't know if it's the beginning of something, the end of something, or just more of the same and it's just hitting me a little differently. It's got me thinking about quite a bit. Quite a bit indeed.

Letters Between John Garrison And His Dear Friend Thomas Monroe Madison

Thomas,

It was with great trepidation that I sat down to write you today in response to your letter dated the 7th of September last. I had dearly hoped that in the days following my receipt of this letter that there would have been some further correspondence from you to put my mind at ease. Alas this was not to be so. You seem in a bad way friend and it pains me that I can not be there to bolster your failing spirits in your time of great need. In his latest message our common ally Reverend Pairwise has expressed his most sincere concerns for your mortal soul in regards to your actions in pursuit of the Great Demon, I add to these my worries Thomas, and implore you to end this dark endeavour that has heaped these ills upon you these past three years.
This is no longer the grand quest we so fervently spoke of in our youth, no longer the noble cause we once so furiously aspired to. This is madness friend, a madness I can no longer share in. It has to stop. I too have heard the dark wolf howling Thomas, but I will not let him take me by the throat. Save yourself Thomas, for I will not, nor will anyone else.

Your Most Humble Servant,
J. Garrison


~~~

Dearest John,

If salvation is what we desire it may indeed be too late for us all. If you find yourself unprepared, or unwilling, to do what needs to be done in this time of great darkness then I implore you to make haste in returning to the homeland. You and yours of this inexpiable opinion would do well to be gone when this judgement is felled upon us. Those of us who are compelled to stand and fight can not waste a single moment dragooning our more reluctant comrades to do their part. This is the end we once discussed, I regret only that you are not by my side to stand against it. Travel well friend and leave the torch burning for those of us who stay behind.

Your Resolute Friend,
Thomas

Endings? Part 1

"Have you seen Tropic Thunder?"

"Yes actually I have, just watched it on DVD last night. Thought it was tremendous."

"Oh...uh..."

"Yeah, sort of ruins the joke doesn't it?"

~

"I've got some bad news."

"Oh?"

"I won't be coming to see you anymore."

"Why?"

"I'm in too deep. It was never supposed to be like this. I've become too attached."

"So?"

"So I know what we're doing here. And that's not it. There's two kinds of fools in this world, the good kind and the bad kind. I've always been the good kind, I'd rather that not change."

"But..."

"I've seen the way you look at them. Heard the things you say about them. I don't want to be them."

"You won't be."

"I'm afraid I already am. I'm sorry. I'll miss you."

"I"ll miss you too."

"No you won't. You'll forget about me the minute I'm gone. That's the way it should be I suppose."

"Are you ok?"

"No...but I will be."

~

"I am a monster for so many different reasons, but I will always be grateful that the people I’ve met here have accepted me, appreciated me, and tolerated me for as long as they have. I’m afraid I can’t push my luck on that account any longer so this will likely be it for me. But I just wanted to thank you all, for everything. And I want you to know that just because I'm leaving doesn't really mean I'm going anywhere, you guys know where to find me if you need me, so thanks again. I'll see you around."
~

Horn Tampers?

At 1:30 A.M. I left the office.

At 2:09 A.M. the direct line to the alarm monitoring system went off. Alarm Code: Horn Tampers.

At 2:13 A.M. as I was watching a DVRed episode of Chuck my cellphone rang. A man asked me for the password. I told him. He verified and then asked my E.T.A. to the scene of the alarm and for distinguishing characteristics that would let the police know I was the owner and not the intruder. I told him I'd be the fat angry looking motherfucker and that they'd know me when they see me.

At 2:19 A.M. I arrived on scene.

At 2:23 A.M. I contacted the alarm monitoring company to inquire about the location of the police and begin to survey the scene.

At 2:27 A.M. the police showed up. The officer takes a quick look around and backs me up as I enter the building. We do a quick sweep to verify that the building is all clear.

At 2:34 A.M. we reach the conclusion that there has been an obvious although inexplicable device malfunction resulting in a false alarm. The police take my name and leave.

At 2:54 A.M. I post this entry.

Zero Year is off to a great start.

Zero Year

I have lost control.

Tonight I ate a cheeseburger.

It may seem like sheer insanity for a near 400 lb man with potentially debilitating emotional and mental disorders to say that the act of ingesting a single cheeseburger could be pinpointed as the low water mark of his entire life, but tonight it is so.

In the past 11 months I've spent $50,000 on comic book statues, dropped a grand in a single night in more than a few go-go bars, ruined a few good friendships, let my house fall into total decay, and been as close to the edge as I've ever been more times than I care to think about.

Tonight I ate a cheeseburger...and now I have lost control.

The longer I hang on to trying to fix this mess, the longer I put off the inevitable decision to simply blow it all the fuck up and try to start again. The longer I fight with myself the more time I waste not doing the things I know I have to do.

There are things I know I should do, things I know I should be getting help for. But I know I won't. So putting off not getting help, and not really doing anything about them just lets the problem fester. Knowing I'm strong enough to fight them, knowing I can handle my shit when it comes down to it prevents me from feeling like I ever really need to fix this. If I can consistently find reasons to hang on, find ways to survive then why risk making it worse? The very confidence I feed on to survive damns me to spend the rest of my life like this. For far too long I've recognized this and done nothing.

I've changed before.

I've saved myself before.

Tonight I start again. The clock resets.

Zero Year.

Kipling

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This City Is Afraid Of Me. I've Seen It's True Face.

Short Poems For Something Lost

It is important to me
That you know
The only thing I ever wanted
Was to be able to show you
That the truth
And what is real
Can be very different things.
~
You need not believe in what is or what isn't.
You need only believe in what might be.
You need not believe in what could have been.
You need only believe in me.

Noir

"I was considering giving up. Locking things down and making a run for it. I'd close shop, grab whatever green I could and make like crazy for Tijuana or some other place where a bad man could have a good time. God himself couldn't stop me, couldn't even slow me down. And then she walked in. She was tall and thin and so cute you felt guilty just looking at her. She had all the right parts in all the right places and I knew right away she was trouble. The kind of trouble I found myself getting in over and over again. I was hooked. I had to have her. And I wouldn't be going anywhere until I did. Damn. That God is one smooth bastard."

The End of An Error

If what I think has happened has happened then we've reached the end of an era. We'll soon be playing a different game. It was fun while it lasted, but now it's time for whatever is next. There is, of course, always the chance that I'm wrong.

Miseries and Happenstance

While driving to pick up a sympathy card at CVS just a little while ago I found myself reciting random poetry out loud. When I noticed I was doing this I chuckled to myself and stopped. A few moments later I came to a red light and realized I was singing to myself. Just under my breath, so quiet even I hadn't noticed, I was singing. When I thought about it for a moment I realized I've been doing this quite a bit lately. Filling every single solitary moment with some sort of noise, something, anything to stop me from talking to myself. Something to stop me from getting started. It was like I was actually trying to stop myself from thinking, and the frightening thing is that I was doing a good job.

Moment's Pause

My father was getting ready to leave the office for the day, he'd put everything in its place, stopped in the restroom, and headed out the door. A moment later he was back. He walked into the office, paused in the middle of the room and stared down at the floor then up at the ceiling. He was thinking. At first I thought he couldn't remember why he came back in, but then as I watched the expression change on his face I realized that he was considering something. Trying to make a decision. It could have been anything, so I asked. "What are you thinking?"

It's something he used to ask me all the time. We never talked much when I was a kid and sometimes I'd go long stretches without seeing him at all. I was always funny around people, particularly strangers, and sometimes he seemed like a stranger himself. So sometimes I was funny around him. When we used to drive places, even places really close or really far away, I would lean against the car window and not say much at all. Sometimes I must have gotten a real serious look about me because he'd often ask, with the sole intent of shaking from my reverie, "What are you thinking?" For awhile I actually told him exactly what I was thinking. No matter how little rhyme or reason it had to it, no matter how silly it came out sounding. Often it would be the only conversation we had. Once I realized that he didn't actually care what I was thinking my answer changed, it always became the same. He'd say, "What are you thinking?" And I'd say "Nothing." When he was in a bad mood he wouldn't say anything to that at all, when he was in a good mood he might make a joke about spending an awful lot of time thinking nothing.

So today when he was standing there in the middle of the office, his brow furrowed in deep thought I simply asked, "What are you thinking?" Without hesitation he answered, "Nothing." And then he smiled. And for the first time ever I wondered if we were both thinking the exact same thing.

THE GREATEST WEBCOMIC IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD

Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

And...

And finally with that I'm out...for the moment. I'll be back soon. I promise. Really.

Pellucidity

Another night passes without a call. Hope beyond hope. Maybe something has finally ended the way that it was supposed to end. I'm afraid not. We will see.

~
Last night something was said that shouldn't have been said. Something bothered me that shouldn't have bothered me. The anger that I felt boiling up inside of me scared me. The fact that I disguised it so well frightened me more. I could have killed us all and not felt even the slightest twinge of remorse in the final moment between here and there. I hated them. I hated myself even more. It was...irrational. It was real.

~
In the beginning there were saints and there were sinners, there was good and there was evil, there was right and there was wrong. And then, with time, those lines which had divided blurred and the certainty which had defined the world was no longer.

The lines are blurring. The lines are gone.

~
Balance. Just for a moment I pop back to being me, throw a look over my shoulder at the ghoulies hanging just a few feet back waiting for their crack at me. I chuckle. Fuckers really think they have a chance. They forget who I am.

~
I remember. If I do a talk at Antioch this year I already know how it's going to end, with a quote from myself:

from Bravery-ish-ness (Wednesday November 7th, 2007)

"Is That A Wocket In Your Pocket or are you Just Happy to see me?

And finally. I've just run through another cell phone. The plumbing in my house is shot. My pants don't fit anymore. My shoulder still hurts like a bitch. Even though I'm sitting on a pile of money I can't prove that the company is making any money. I'm sick and tired. I'm bored but busy. Everything and everyone is totally fucked. And Antioch starts this Sunday. So everything is going to be ok..."

Warning Shots

Slow down.

Think about what you're doing.

It doesn't have to be this way.

Or does it.

Something might happen or it might not.

~
In these hollow hours of uncertainty the rolling roiling howls of despair bellow out from the darkness by the lair of the white worm known as silence spoiled by the placement of the pavement which spills out from the basement of the buildings that create the barrier of the foreign lands and foreign customs and foreign concepts that stand like a wall between You and I.

Ask me why...

I feel the need to heed the words of my brothers that have come before, stood before the darkness and screamed back an attack which spread the light, a symbol of the fight and a notice to know this: that we are not alone You and I.

All a lie...

These restrictions and conscriptions that put us in a place to lead our lives separated, castigated, relegated to a position that is not of our own making. The world for our taking is not a lie, but a license to be what we are, to see who we are, to know that we are not us just You and I.

Why?

IF only the lonely things that we've become could be seen by what we used to be what we are now would not look back so fondly on what we were. No. What we are would look back on who we were and say...oh. You and I...You and I.
~
Once more the wicked whirlwind
Once more the dark grows wide
Once more into the night dear friend
Another day has died.
~
In The Darkness filled with fear,
When neither light nor happiness draws near,
Do you think of me?
Do you think of me at all?
~
Darkness falls, darkness calls...I answer.

I am Hob.

A Variety of Posts All Rolled Into One

I never did finish up the posts I've started in the past few days. Maybe it's because my head's been right and I just haven't been able to get around to it. Maybe I've just been lazy. Maybe I just don't know what to say. So here's a few shots at...feel free to let me know what you think.

The 5th

"Remember, remember the fifth of November,
The Gunpowder Treason and Plot.
I can see no reason
Why the Gunpowder Treason
Should ever be forgot." - Traditional English Rhyme

November 5th...the first day of the New World Order. I remember back in the Summer of 2004 when John Kerry was running for President saying on my radio show I wasn't so sure that Kerry could beat Bush. But that I did like the energy and presence of a certain young Democrat. I said, with no hesitation, that if Kerry didn't win that I thought this man would become the 44th President of the Unites States of America. Now before you start calling me Nostradamus I was talking about John Edwards. I know, right? But then, on that fateful July night I listened as another even younger and more energetic Democrat stepped up to the podium and delivered a keynote address that changed the entire political landscape of the day, and in a lot of ways changed the future of this country.

I've heard a lot of people talk about this election like it was the end of some kind of journey. Like the story that started all those summers ago has finally reached its conclusion. Yet we all know that's not true. Movies end with victories. Life carries on with all the stories that come after. And our new friend on Pennsylvania Avenue has a whole lot of stories coming awful quick. I just hope he's as ready for the change he keeps talking about as the rest of us are. I wish him all the luck in the world.

He's going to need it.

Dinner

Wednesday night Jere, House, Nathan and I went out to dinner at this new Italian place in Hawthorne. It was amazing. I had Strozapetti (yeah I didn't know what that was either) with Sicilian eggplant and shrimp. We drank two bottles of red wine and I actually had dessert for the first time in months. It was a good night. I'm lucky to have friends like them even if half the time we can't figure out why we're friends at all.

The Slowest Day In The History of the World

So this morning I came into the office to find that some of the stuff in my collection had been moved. Turns out that the guy cleaning my office thought it would be a good idea to Fabulouso my display case. Now they say Fabulouso can be used even on finished wood products but I don't really want a cleaning solvent sold in the 99 Cent store to be used on my $6,000 custom wood cabinetry or anywhere near my $50,000 worth of toys. Not to mention that someone who has no idea what he's touching should not be touching any of my stuff. I can just see myself trying explaining to The Shifletts that I'm ordering another Ol' Scratch Bronze because Fabulouso totally ruins the patina (I bet Peter Jackson never had that problem). Luckily one of my managers stopped him before he caused too much damage. My father on the other hand sat there and laughed instead of saying anything. I may just have to put a brick through his windshield to show him why fucking with expensive things isn't funny. Just maybe though.

The Battle of Bloomfield

So tonight I did a few things I probably shouldn't have done. And knowing me I'll probably do a few more before the night is out. At some point in the next few days I'll probably have a conversation that I'm absolutely dreading having and after that the whole world will probably be different for just a little while. That's sort of how it goes nowadays.

Last Call

So as the last busses roll in for the night and a conversation with a friend peters out, as the smell of a fresh, cool rain begins to fade and the echos of stories told turn to memories I'll pack up my shit and call it a night. I won't call it a great night, or even a good night. I'll just call it a night, and with the things I've learned today, with the feelings I've felt and the things I've said I'll call it a night that could have been a hell of a lot worse...and I'll be extremely thankful that it wasn't.

And A Moment of Spontaneous Hilarity Ensued

Ok...well, I'm still working on a post that I started yesterday when it became pretty obvious that Obama was about to become President Elect. It's turning out to be longer than I expected, but I also want it to be pretty good too. So it's going to be at least a few hours before I get that one out.

Instead I want to mention that I just got back from the comic shop and getting a haircut. I think the haircut came out good, but then again it doesn't matter because I'm still me. It also became sort of obvious that I'm going grey a little quicker than I had been. There were a lot of grey hairs in there today let me tell you. I picked up Vol. 4 of Neal Gaiman's Absolute Sandman today. It's funny because Vol. 3 is still in my car which is exactly where it's been since I bought it four months ago. I didn't finish the first 12 volumes of "100 Bullets" (I'm on #11) so I didn't pick up Fables or Preacher. I still have to read Umbrella Academy Vol.1 and New Moon from the Twilight Saga, my little sister has a 100 page head start on this one and I'm sort of holding out hope that she'll decide she doesn't like it so I don't have to read it at all. (even though the first one wasn't that bad). I also picked up the Aspen Comics Michael Turner Tribute issue which was really nice but also really sad. I actually felt sort of sad sitting in my car and reading it...but it was a good type of sad. A right type of sad.

Outside of that it's been a pretty slow day. A pretty slow day. A whole new world...and still a pretty slow day.
~

And finally...I was just checking out some links when I find this madness on an entertainment blog called Topless Robot. It's a very Japanese little thing that takes the "statue" craze a little too far. I won't explain it, but if you don't speak Japanese you can always check out Toplessrobot.com where they explain it better than I ever could.

The Game Has Changed

Just for once in my ridiculously amazing life I would like to be straight up sane for more than fifteen minutes at a time.

Just once.

Let me go a friggin' quarter of an hour without dipping back below that thin red line on the crazy meter just long enough to caste a shadow on anything normal that may have occured in the previous 899 seconds buffering the mad moment from what should just be called me.

Yeah. That makes sense.

Motherfucker.

I need a glass of water.