ok i'm a jerk. I'm sorry. that's all for now.

for all you who read this from time to time sorry for not writing latly, but don't give up on me. i've been offline for a while with work and personal stuff. but i will soon return.
thanks for coming out today, i'll be here all week.

cleansing

well a small discovery. i used to not shower on a daily basis. not because i'm a gross pig. but i always thought, hey if i'm not dirty then why? i mean if i shower and don't do anything, all i do is sit infront of the computer all day then all i have to do is wash my hands and face and go back to bed? right? but i had a little bit of a revelation. or for me a light bulb or something. latley it has not been about showing to clean my body but to clean my mind. i have discoverd the ritual of hygene to be more about my head than my body. the whole ritual is self cleaning and gets me going. i wash my body then may hair, then my face. after that i stand under the shower head for sometimes up to 30 minutes just letting the hot water wash everything else away. after that, i shave, brush my teeth and comb my hair. finally i get dressed and walk out the door ready to take on the world because i just washed a bunch of shit outa my head and down the drain to deserted part of town to let the water department solidfy my shit and fill a big hole in the ground.

another thing that came to mind today and startled me. i was sitting here listening to woodeye staring out the window watching the rain, and thought, damn i miss home. WHAT? i am home. i live in the city i was born and raised in. why on earth did i think of home as holland and germany. go back home to amsterdam. sit on a canal on a rainey cold day, have a cold beer and watch the world walk by on vacation, looking for a beer, a dildo, a joint or sex with a stranger. i remember one time shortly after moving to germany, this is weird, i feel like i'm home, i feel like i've been trying to get here my whole life. maybe it's getting time to go back home..........

I'm learning, i really am....

i don't even know where to start today. my day to day life has become seemingly insignificant in light of the world, specifically iraq. yesterday i found a blog from iraq. from there i linked to several others. i was captivated. i read, went back and read many weeks and sometime months of posts from begining to end. i can't even comprehend the things i have read. what i can understand is something i have known for a long time. no matter where you go in this world everything is the same. people are the same. they go about their lives trying to do the best they can to provide for themselves and their families. i could argue that occasioally an individual has a misguided idea of what is good for their families. I could argue alot of things, but today my heart is heavy knowing that someone just like me is sitting in front of a computer not much different than the one i am in in front of, not knowing when the electricity will go out and if they can finish their post. not knowing what the explosion outside was. not knowing that their family is safe. not knowing the certainty of their future. the personal future and the future of a counrty they love.
one of the blogs i read a family member was kidnapped and held for ransom. for over a week he was gone. and the family had to pay the ransom to get him, back. they had to pay because the police are corrupt and often involved, and the american military does not get involved. can't get invovled. they don't know if they will be a detained by the soldiers at the next check point because their beard is too long or the color dress was wrong. i worry about having money for drinks and frivolous items that occupy our daily lives, they worry about bombs and gasoline and kersosene and water.

Screwed blued and tattooed.
i got a new tattoo on friday, friday the 13th of febuary. all i got was a simple 13. about an inch tall, red and black. took all of 30mins to get. i also had one touched up. i got the new tattto on my left arm right above an old one i got on the last friday the 13th. i was hoping to get more, but it took along time before i could get my turn and when i did, i was feeling the effects of 9 days of work and decidied to just get the one, to mark the day. a long time ago i decided that i would get full sleaves, but i was not going to get them all at once. i would get them as time and money allowed. i also made the decision that i would not get tattoos willy nilly with no ryhme or reason. the tattoos i would get on my left arm would be ones of places i've been, things i have done and how i see the world. the ones on my right arm would be how i perceive the world sees me or how i want the world to see me. so far so good. but if you've ever seen my tatoos and you know me, well you know that i'm still heading in the right direction and not too far from my mark. so anyway i got another 13 friday.
saturday i had a date with queenie. but she didn't get off work till late. and it turned out to be not much different than any other saturday night out. i stood at the bar doing shots and drinking beer, while she paraded around in her new party dress.
saturday night was supposed to be a one last stand, a remember the alamo night. instead she drove me home, like always, and we sat up till god knows when talking. but given that there was a time we would stay up all night talking it fits right in with our realtionship.
sunday i got called into work at noon. a shot of jager and a hot cup of coffee and i was able to stop my head from pounding enough that i could count money. after 7 hours of doing shots with the rest of the west 7th crew, all trying to get rid of their hangovers and forget the money they spent on their girls, i was no longer tring to get rid of my hangover but trying to function as a bartender. the combination of alchohol, exhastion and depression was too much for my brain to handle and when a girl asked if i wanted to go to a dance club with her and her friends i said yes. so off to vivid. i don't have much memory of the night. i drank, i danced, i did more shots. then i thought i was lost, then i was found. next thing i know i'm in a truck heading home. home being the bar. i got back, paid my tab and went to sleep in the sound booth. next thing i know i was called out of sluber into another truck and there i was, standing on my front porch, fumbling with my keys to get in the door.
monday i made spaghetti, cookies and ate ice cream.

wow, i don't even know whee to begin this. i had along weekend. it rained it snowed. i drank i fought i danced i loved i don't even know what i have i done. i made money and i spent it. i'll have to get back to you on this i ahev to go lay back down.

cold and sunny

i wish it was raining today. actually i don't want it to rain, but i would like it if the weather matched my mood a liitle better. i just want it to be dark and dreary. i mean it's already cold, it ought to be cloudy as well. at least if it was cloudy i could curl up on the bed or couch or what ever and wallow in self pity. but how are you supposed to have a pity party when the sun is shining and birds are singing.
i miss the first time, the firt sight, the first kiss, that first tingle up my spine the excitement of the unknown, of atticipation. i miss my pants fitting funny.
i miss being excited in the morning. i miss not wondering where she is or who she's talking to.
today i want a big steak, the first cut and the juice spills out on the plate.
i don't want to wonder about her. i don't want to know what she's thinking, i don't want to know who she's talking to.
but she wont get out of my head.
everyday the hole grows larger and larger. everyday the hole gets harder to fill. i miss the days when there was no hole in my heart. i miss the days when i could fill the hole with a few shots of gentley warm bourben. the cool glass in my hand, and fire in my chest.
i miss birds singing. i miss walking on air.

AND GODDAMNIT I HURTING TOO

Dark bars and Dark secrets

out of the mouths of drunk comes the strangest things. i don't know what they are, but hell their talking, and if they are tipping while they talk i'm listening. so last night a small group of six waltz into my place in arlington. two girls and four guys. they are out celebrating the brithday of one of the gents in the group. i only know this because they called proir to arriving to ask if it was ok if they brought a small leashed dog with them. ait turned out i was the only bar they called that would allow a canine companion to accompany them into the bar, so they didn't bring the dog on their birthday bar crawl. the group turned out to consists of a neighboring bar owner, his wife, one of their bartenders and two of their friends, one of whom was the birthday boy. i know these folks from visiting their bar, and lovely folks i might add. back to the story at hand. the birthday boy was obviously well passed drunk, was having a great time, but could barley speak or stand. being his birthday and knowing he was in good hands, i gave him what i imgine to be his last beer for his birthday. he was trying to get me to buy him a shot for the special occasion but after realizing just how intoxicated he was i tried to hem-n-haw around while i served others, tried to change the subject and basically avoid buying a shot one, and two having him puke it back up on my bar. so the night goes on and the bartrender girl remembers the last time i was in her bar i was buying everyone i could find a beer or a drink or a shot for those who were willing to do jager with me. i think the bartender was the only one whom i did not buy a shot of jager for because she stated that she did not care for taste. i bought her something else if my memory serves me correctly. this all came about because i had ended up working an unexpected double, made some stupid cash, i was caught up on my bills and i decide i was going to share the wealth. the whole time that batender girl and i were rehashing that lovely day and the enormity of my tab, birthday boy is listening intently and watching as best he could. then out of nowhere and in the middle of someone elses sentence, just as the word jager come out of my mouth, he jumps up, wobbles, points his finger at me and proclaims " i know you now, your the guy that bought me a shot of jager and told me a funny story" why yes i did, i bought a lot of drinks that day". no sooner had this realization hit him, another one hit him and he needed to use the phone. poof. gone. goodbye.
it got me to thinking on my way home, yup that's me. the guy who'll buy you a shot of jager and tell you a funny story. what story will i tell? i never know, and neither will you.

i can be your superman

i was reading thru my archives and came aross this post from July 01, 2003 i'm kinda feeling this way again.

Sex , lies and horny drunks



So a customer at the bar made an interesting observation in his drunken stupor after the conversation at the bar turned to sex and masturbation. Another drunk was making the argument that it's ok and that both men and women do it to "take care of business " the observation was that if all the horny men and women are going home alone and masturbating because they are horny, wouldn't the world be a better place if everybody got together and made the masturbation issue a non-issue. It got me to thinking, yup there are a lot of horny folks going home alone at the end of the night. But I guess not all of the right people are not in all of the right places at the same time. Of course this brings up the topic of causal sex and that I believe is a topic for another day. Of course as I have mentioned before there are a lot of ugly or not so attractive folks out there and for some ingrained reason most horny folks have a higher standard for the folks they want to have sex with than they have for themselves. I know most people do there best to look their best when they go out on the town, or maybe not. Maybe the horny folks have resigned themselves to be lonely and don't make an effort to get all dressed up when they go out for a beer or a show. What scares me the most are the guy and gals who obviously look like the put some time and effort into their appearance and still manage to miss the mark arbitrarily set by society. I remember one time at the bar, kicking back and having a beer or three, a young woman walked thru the door. This girl was the poster girl for a white trash whore. She was wearing a skirt that was too short, tattered and worn, not to mention about 10 years out of style. (do short skirts really go out of style?) ugly cheap shoes that should have been sent to the trash bin years ago, black torn fishnets and a shirt that was way too tight. Bright red lipstick and cake hair from the late 80's. Her whole outfit screamed I'm looking to have sex with the band, the whole band and nothing but the band. But when I noticed what she was carrying I almost fell out of my chair giggling. A bag of Doritoes. I turned and looked at one of my friends and in the straightest face I could muster, I said, "she's all that and a bag of chips." we laughed about that thru most of the night. And the young girl oblivious to our amusement stood dutifully at the edge of the stage and stared mournfully at each band that played. And I digress.
So horny people? Put on your best clothes, wash your hair, brush your teeth, ask a friend how you look, then go out at give it a go at not going home alone or at least getting a number for later. Now I'm not saying that everybody in the club is single and horny, but you never know, that pretty young thing that you've been looking at all night, might be just like you. Looking for love in all the wrong places.

Life on the road


two years, two people, two separate roads to go. there is now an empty chair in my castle, for my queenand i have parted ways. it's been amicable and pleasant, but today is the first day she has not been here for me when i woke up or got home. we've talked and we both agree, that the time has come to go our own ways. it's been a while since my divorce. what started out as quick trip has ended in a two year journey. i 've discoverd many things about myself and forgotten a few things. i never finished the story i was writing about my trip to california and it may now be never finished. hell my thought are allover the place right now, maybe i should go take a shower. i have alot of disconnected thoughts today. well not even just today, but for some time. i can create or envision wonderful titles and images but for some reason i can't flesh out the story.
for instance theis entry began on way and it took for ever for me to log on and now it's gone. oh well.

i'll see if i can recapture it for you.
life on the road........
well this post has digressed into one liners. i'll think about and try to post more later. right now the TV is bugginthe crap outa ma and i have to turn it off.

something i have been thingking of the other day, how the sonnet and the pop song corrolate. i'm doing some reaserch as we speak, i'll get back to ya onit when i find something out.


you can read about sonnets here

ahh forget it.

i got distracted and now i forgot what i wanted to write.

well saturday night was a blast. even thought i ended up working. it's one of the few times in the in recent memory that i enjoyed working. lots and lots of pretty people. some really good music. and money, money, money. of course lie true to form i went out sunday and spent everything i made saturday night. but damn did i have fun. i bought drink after drink and round after round. i do enjoy the look on a completestragers face wheni offer to buy then a drink. just makes it all worthwhile.

another round of shots please!

went to the woodeye show last night. it was good. i am amazed everytime i see these guys. they just get better time and time again. how they do it i don't know. i think it might be the copiuos amounts of alcohol invovled. just a guess mind you. no concrete evidence. they played with the mocking bird cartel and sorta. both bands surprized me. one because i had never seen the cartel play before and two i thought that sorta, well sorta sucked last time i saw them. but they didn't suck this time. i guess i should start paying more attention to the bands that put money in my pocket than the drinks that are in my hands, or the girls or both. who knows. tonight is halies birthday party lots of gay art people to look at tonight. i'll try to report in later

awe hell, i really don't have any thing today. it's s nice cool day teh sun is shining, birds are singing, and my hangover is waning
just a few random thoughts.

local music sucks, local music rocks.
i'm a rockstar.
i like pop music
everybody sucks but me. i live like you want to live, i drink like you want to drink, i fuck like you want to fuck, i fuck the girls you wanna fuck. (with apoligies to eicky)
i hate people. i love their money. i love that i can make them do anything that i want. people are stupid.
don't talk to me asshole. fuck you, pay me!

To Pink, i don't think that i'm not real, and i have a pretty good idea you are real, however i was drunk for so many days when we met in person, who knows, i guess we could have had a mutaul hallucination, but that is a debate for another day. however the point i think i was trying to get at was just how long ago things seem. i have incredibly vivid dreams, and there have been times i wondered "did that really happen? or was i dreaming?" so i think in the meloncholly mood i wrote that in i was just thinking, man that was soo long ago, sometimes days seem like years and years seem like days.

i have come to the concluson that i need to figure out at way to blog from the shower. i have found myself latley just standing in the shower, letting the hot water run over my head and down my body, for several minutes a day. sometimes as much as 20mins. just standing there thinking, and conversing to myself. sometimes i just i don't think at all. i just stand there.the problem is i i'm usally in the shower getting ready for work, so once i get out i continue my hygene ritual, get dressed then it's out the door. i also do alot of thinking while i drive. not because i want to mnd you, i'd love to drive blissfullu down the road like the rest of america, oblivios to my surrounds but unlike most of american drivers do not have a radio in my truck. that is really a misreprentation. i do have a radio in my truck, it's just that i can't use it. the lot i bought it from some how lost the removable face plate. and well i bargined them down so much on the truck, i didn't really think it was a deal breaker and didn't want to push the point. chiefly because the deal was done and well ther wasn't anything i could do about it, secondly this is the next truck in a long line of vehicles i have owned that have not had a radio. so i'm getting quite accustomed to riding in silence. i find myself from time to time even turing off the radio in my G/F's truck.




THPPHHHHHHHH!!!

well good grief it's been a long time since i posted here. even though it's ben over a month, not much a has changed, or therte has not been anytihng of note worth writing about.

still working, still scrapeing for money, still working on the bikes, or should i say not working on the bikes. it seems that i can find just about any excuse i want to use to explain my lack of working.
ok this is just depressing me further rather than helping get things out my head to make me feel better.

yeah i miss my friends too queenie.

i'm gonna touch on past lives again. sometimes i wonder if they are true or not. my mother? let me tell you about my mother, Boom (lol a line one one of my favorite movies). anyway my mother was a staunch catholic, as was her parents and their parents before them. however, despite this upbringing she believed in ghosts, voodoo, and past lives. how i don't know, all three were disreguarded as pagan in the church. so maybe that is where i got my curiosity from.

once when i was a child i remember crying out to my mother in the night. i had to go pee, but i was too afraid of the dark to get out of bed, but too afraid of embarressment to pee in my bed, so i cried out in the night. soon my mother appeared at my door. her silken robe blowing in the breeze. she said what is wrong my child? i told her, and she said hurry. we didn't have night lights when i was a child, but i distincly remember i soft blue glow in the room and the hall. now here is the freaky part. there was a path from my bed to the bathroom compised of small aniamals; puppies, kittens, squirrels, bunnys, birds and more. when i woke the next day i asked my mother about it. she told me she didn't get out of bed all night. my guardian angel perhaps? a ghost? i asked my mother again sometime later in life, my early teens i think. this time i was able to describe in greater detail what happened that night. she told me with a wonderful expression that she thought in was the Virgin Mary, because she prayed at night for her to watch over me.

so past lives. i have often wondered, was i a soldier? it might explain my yearning for comabt. it might explain my level headedness in difficult situations. it might explain my tendencies to take contol. or not. or it might come from watching the movie Patton too many times. sometimes i think i may have been a common man. a metal worker through the ages perhaps? if you imagine hard enough, you can imagine yourself doing just about anything.