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Hells yeah! It appears that I am getting out of the office before seven-fucking-o'clock today, so be happy with me and listen to some getting-out-of-the-office-on-time-music.

"We are the leaves of one branch, the drops of one sea, the flowers of one garden." - Jean Baptiste Henry Lacordaire
Uh, yeah... since people have been asking and I don't have any pictures to offer ya, the Chinese calligraphy in the adjacent photo makes up three of the four tattoos on my back. The three words have special meaning to me. The original artwork was commissioned to an artist from Hong Kong. She did an excellent job. The rice paper to skin transfer was done by Ancient Art in Virginia. Sorry about not having a pic... it happens.

I love irony. Apparently there is this study in the UK claiming that unprotected sex is an anti-depressant for women. It eludes that there are chemicals in semen that, when absorbed into the woman's bloodstream, act like an anti-depressant. There is another story this week about an epidemic in sexually transmitted diseases because of chronic under funding of their clinics across the UK. Ironically, they're all happy.
So, it was a Treebeard's lunch today. I dig that place.

I now understand exactly why I spend so much damn money on coffee. Scenario 1: Clayton enters workplace in the a.m. with a serious jonez for java. Clayton flings laptop and various inconsequentials in office after almost breaking key off in the lock due to poor motor skills in the a.m. (usually this can be attributed to liver exercise the previous evening). Clayton makes as few turns as possible, shortening the distance to the "shrine" where that nectar of redemption is brewed and disseminated. Denied. Some lazy muthafukka has taken the last drop and scurried away like the bitch that he is to gloat in his existence as a little piece of shit. Scenario 2: Clayton is working like a busy bee... listening to issues, solving problems, attending (useless) meetings. Network engineers get thirsty. Clayton has vision of some straight black love just down the hall. Clayton smiles. A few short steps later, Clayton finds some lazy muthafukka has taken the last drop and scurried away like the bitch that he is to gloat in his existence as a little piece of shit. This is a recurring thing. So, despite the completely sweet deal that my employer has a contract with Starbucks to provide quality beans to feed the "shrines", I purchase espresso from various downtown cafes that charge so much for a drop of joe that you have to price shop for the café with the best interest rates to finance the fix. Like I said, I now understand exactly why I spend so much damn money on coffee.

My carpool buddy just called me... overslept. Doesn't bother me a bit. I am completely unmotivated this morning, yet surprisingly happy. I think it's been the amazing weather we’ve had the last few days. Beach weather! Harry and Eric hosted open mic last night... it worked out well that I was a wee bit tipsy because the folks that got up to unleash their musical prowess simply sucked. I am fascinated and completely captivated by pretty much all forms of live music, so regardless of their music being palatable or not, they get an "A" for effort from me. Caffeine? Where are you? Oh yeah... who the hell is this guy?

Grrrrrrr!

Drunk, drunk, drunk. Holy shit... how do I get myself into this situation. After Harry and Eric's gig tonight, I am worthless. I need to sleep. I'll write tomorrow... maybe

"Women seem wicked when you're unwanted." - Jim Morrison
I just got off the phone with Sean. He and I go waaaaaaaaaay back. He's like a brother to me. He's truly a VFX genius that's worked on films like True Lies, Strange Days, The Fifth Element, Godzilla, X-Men, etc. Anyhoo, I think I woke him up (sorry man!). Take a minute to head over to his business site and watch the trailer for the feature length indie they're putting out later this year (we hope). I am sooooooo ready to get out of the office. It's a perfect beach day today. I grew up close to the beach... I went as much as possible. I've always been close to the water (maybe not by geography, but always in spirit). There's just something about the breeze coming in off the ocean and the sound of the waves crashing against the sandy shore... it completely relaxes me. It's funny how your body remembers things. I remember those beach moments so clearly. Everything about them actually... the sand in my toes, the warmth of the sun wrapping around me... even that indescribably erotic scent emitted by your skin after you have been out in the sun all day (no dammit, not B.O.!)... subtle, hormonal, and strangely (to me) sexy. I guess that's why music is so important to me... I can listen to a certain songs/styles of music and it's like your ordering up emotion from some nostalgic diner. "I'll have one order of heartache, with a side order of sadness, hold the excitement, extra angst." Some fat, sweaty cook takes your order off the spindle... picks out the perfect CD and presses play. Ding-ding! "Order up!"... yeah, funny how that works. I think that's the most intriguing part about being a musician... trying to express emotion in music so that it is embraced by your audience. As I exhale, I realize that it is obviously time for me to get out of the office because my mind is not cooperating in the "focus on work" department. Let me see what I can do...

Thank you Michelle for the LOTW status. You're site is great and I truly appreciate the compliment.

Well, so much for the happy place. I spent my morning at the police station... boooooring. No, I was not arrested. I was there filing a report. It's a long story and it'll just piss me off if I write about it now, so maybe this will be a future entry. Anyway, I ran some much-needed errands and ended up... guess where... awe, come on, guess... yep! You guessed it! My fucking office (the one at work, not the one at home). Pffft!

I'm working from home this morning. Yippie! I suppose, if there is a place that you must work, where else but home? You can walk around the house in your birthday suit if ya want... you are in close proximity to your own private bathroom, the refrigerator, stereo filled with music you like... dippity doo! It’s like little worker paradise. Since the bulk of what I do is done in front of a keyboard, it alleviates some of the geographic constraints of going to work. In fact, being the geek that I am, I ran CAT5 around the eve of my house and through the master bedroom, so I have a LAN connection at the head of my bed... so I can just lay in my big, phat bed and work. Sure, I have a home office, but why use it when you have a king size bed loaded up with comforters and pillows all to your self. Streeeeetch! I can even blog from bed... Ahhhh… happy place.

Almost Never Met
A clamorous, smoke filled room ended a long day of much confusion,
Good food, music, and friends were my felicitous conclusion.
Was I the only one to notice the room change as you arrived?
Was my gray evening the only one colored by your warm smile and sparkling eyes?
Apparently our almost-meeting was another irony of fate,
A prior engagement and my early departure precipitated a decision moments late.
I wish I would have stayed if for nothing else but "Hello."
Your beauty so rare and seraphic, I was such a fool to go.
But we can't all go through life prisoners of our regret,
Which is precisely why expression finds life within the lonely sonnet.
I wasn't sure just how to tell you, but knew what I wanted to say,
The anamnesis of your ephemeral glance lingers still with me each day.
If never you should know me beyond the words upon this page,
Please know your presence touched me in an unusual and special way.

Camron drove home today. I think she is starting summer session in a week or two. It was nice to see her again. I am such a crappy brother sometimes. I should keep in better touch, but is seems that time slips through my fingers. We had a great time while she was here… strange outcome considering the childhood of arguments and differences. Time changes things I suppose. I think I’ll go play guitar for a while before bed... this boy is tired.

"It seems like I'm always getting stuck between the handshake and the fuck." -- Foo Fighters

I've gotta get outta here... I feel a storm brewing. Apparently, it is my Director's birthday today (as revealed by the obviously loud, yet supposed-to-be-secret hussle bussle of card signing going on in adjacent offices). This can only mean one thing: corporate conference room cake day. Fuck. I am having visions of that scene from Office Space where Bill Lumbergh is rambling to this room of utterly silent worker bees. Everyone gets cake but Milton Waddams. Riiiight. Mmmmn kaay. Maybe I can avoid it all. I don't like cake anyway. I'm feeling sick... yeah, that's it... sick. Looks like it's time to steal the fax macine, grab Dwayne and Joe, and head for the field... like I said, I gotta get outta here.