Vaseline, Blistick, Chapstick, or any similar lip moisturizer seems to produce THE most powerful force of attraction felt by cat hair in the known universe. I'm delirious. I made a pot of vegetable soup tonight for dinner. The entire evening I was wishing it was a juicy steak. I don't eat much red meat anymore, but sometimes you have to embrace your inner Meatasaurus. I'm craving rich foods and dark chocolate. If I could develop a spray-on chemical that can be applied to the lips after moisturizing that would repel cat hair, I could make some serious bank from all the dented (but not broken) single peops out there with lots of cats and big chapped lips. I could buy an evil lair.
If I were a rock star on tour, I would have pants made from sewn together Crown Royal bags. That would rock!
Phone is off. Door is locked. Porch lights are off. I live in a nice neighborhood... there are plenty of fucktards to pass out candy. I don't need to contribute to pediatric dentists' Mercedes payments this year. I try so hard to clear my mind, but I just can't get away from all the shit that I would change if I could. I am flying to Colorado Springs on Tuesday. It's official. I'm probably buying the tickets and making hotel reservations tomorrow morning. I love snow. I miss it. Another thing I miss is the mountain air. I found myself slipping into domestic mode again this evening without even realizing it when the tape hit the VCR. My dear friend (and the closest thing I've had to a dad in so long I can't remember), Jean-Paul, is playing piano tonight at a nice Argentinean restaurant near my house. Harry is gigging in the village tonight and I'm sure that it's a good time waiting to happen as well... I just can't convince myself to leave the house. I'm not trying to be anti-social. It actually goes against my personality to be secluded and avoid interaction with people, but something is different these days. On the surface, I'm the same guy I always am to people that know me. Underneath, I've been an emotional yo-yo. Remembrance. Speculation. Reflection. Introspection. Yadda yadda yadda. I think too much. Finding escape in bottom of a bottle isn't answer and finding peace in music is just an excuse. The failures in my life are never covered up by all the successes. They just hang around and keep me company... asking me for a light or trying to bum some spare change. Those failures from my past need to quit smokin' and get a job because I don't have time for them anymore and their fucking up my constitution. I don't date because I can't be hurt again. It would be the end of me. I am realizing as I type this that I am not conveying my thoughts well because my mind is skipping through places no one can touch but me. I'll spare you. So many miles... so much time... sometimes I wish I could fly away and walk through the streets of yesterday.
What is it the makes a hollow man whole?
Who pours to fill the empty cup of his soul?
When he finds the path shadowed from the start,
is there any blood to fill his vacant heart?
Is there anyone to mend the cracks in his shell?
or take his hand to walk him out of his hell?
I think you better just
give it to me.
It's mornings like this that make you wonder what the real origin of the tattoo cherry is and why people flock to generic designs instead of cultivating the popularity of originality. If there were no generic tatt designs to choose from and everyone either brought original work to their inker or commissioned custom work each time, tattoos would be like snowflakes. I am all angsty this morning like a coffeehouse warrior poet that searches magazines in doctors offices for sermon substance. I began to freeze a little booty off this morning when I left the house, but between my loathing the mere inkling of stepping foot in this fluorescent prison for the next eight to ten hours and my throbbing neck pain, I soon forgot the temperature and it's ill effects on my bare legs and arms and focused on what it is exactly I was going to fill the fleeting moments of my Halloween spare time with from start to finish. The answer is abso-fucking-lutely nothing. I am going to go home and do nothing. Which brings me to this conundrum. I long for that nothingness already and it's early in the day. I need to spin some wheels and somehow make now into later without me actually realizing it. Saying is the easy part... doing is the hard part. Kinda like RealLife™.
Happy Halloween. Yee fucking haw.
Somehow. I don't know how. I seem to have pinched a nerve in my neck. Don't ask me to turn to look at something. It's just not gonna happen.
My commute home was awesome. I love this weather. Mike came to pick me up around 6:30 and just as he arrived, work called. Emergency. Fuck. I spent 45 minutes on the phone, VPN'd into the network, working... he sat on the couch and listened to me bitch about it as my tolerance grew thin. I broke free from the chaos around 7:15 and we hit the Engine Room. I saw tons of people I know from the entire L.A.M.F. crew. It was great! I didn't pay too much attention to the first two bands. I was busy laughing at Mike getting pissed because they had filled the Crown bottles with cheap scotch. I hate being a professional drinker. You become somewhat of a connoisseur after a while and you can name the booze by taste and smell. I didn't drink tonight. Actually, other that a single glass of wine with dinner last night, I am four days dry. Get some of that. I was wearing my top secret Queen of Spades shirt tonight. I could tell ya why it's top secret... but then I'd have to kill ya. ;-) The Burden Brothers completely rocked. It was great fun... AND Todd passed me the mic again in Dirty Sanchez. Fucking incredible. When the finished the set, I said my goodbyes and we headed for my not-quite-MTV Cribs abode before the Supersuckers were even finished loading in their gear. I'm tired and satisfied. Smells like it's time for bed.
I just found out that I am probably going to Colorado after all. It was 16 degrees in Colorado Springs this morning. I'm so fucking busy that I won't even have time to ski. Departure date/time still floating... until then I'll just keep working like the little slave bitch I am. Fuckers.
It's getting closer. I hate the way anticipation bends the perception of time. Tick tock... tick tock... dammit!
Burden Brothers at the
Engine Room tonight. Doors open at 8:00. If you see the me with the Queen of Spades, come say hi. Wear depends because Vaden, Taz, and the boys will make ya crap yer pants.
Rock-n-roll... Texas style.
It was difficult to convince myself that getting out of bed was worth my while this morning. Finally, after much debate, I started what appeared to be a good morning. I loaded up my
MP3 player with some new tunes and hit the asphalt. I made great time on the commute in and the weather was fabulous. Despite it being morning (which I am allergic to under most circumstances), I am was in a great mood because the
Burden Brothers are playing the
Engine Room tonight and I am getting my rock on. Queen of Spades is on my chest tonight. I roll in to the office a few minutes later than usual and am greeted by, as luck would have it, the Vice President. Fuck. Buzz kill. I don't think he likes me very much anyway (a whole different story), but the one day I'm running 15 minutes late and he happens to be walking out of the conference room across the hall from my office. I think my keys-a-jinglin' is what set up the encounter... that shit is like a drop of blood in open waters for the sharks of executive management. Don't get me wrong, I like the guy... he's just hard to read. Runs like a hot and cold faucet... but a good guy. After eight years in the Navy, there is no management on Earth that will ever phase me again.
FTN. I just let it roll off my back. On top of my incredibly complex schedule of tasks this week while fighting to meet this deadline, I discover this morning that there are more little schoolgirls that skinned their knees on the playground and some clock cycles from my day are being allocated without my knowledge to bandage things up. Fucking pieces of shit. I am a busy man. Call someone else. Jack of all trades around here isn't what it's made up to be. I discovered a new tool that's pretty cool for all you network/IT geeks out there... it's a front end to
RRD called
Cacti. Pretty nifty. Anyhoo, I need some more coffee. Now go get your
costume for Halloween.
No date. No plans. Crummy work day. Food heals all. I ate dinner at
Masraff's tonight. I started with the organic farmer's mixed greens tossed in balsamic vinaigrette with cherry tomatoes and spiced pecans. I wasn't too hungry, so the jumbo lump crab cake crusted with yukon gold potatoes, spicy coleslaw and avocado salsita was next. A fine pouilly fuisse was enjoyed during and the best espresso I've had in months afterwards. Although their menu isn't quiet the traditional French fair you'll find at
Bistro Provence or
Chez Georges, it is always well prepared and the wait staff is fabulous. This concludes my public service announcement.
Motherfucker. I'm glad today is over.
I can't stop laughing. I made it home. I didn't get hit by a car dammit. I'm not a sweater. You know how some people just sweat like crazy even thinking about heat or exertion? That's not me. I
ride pretty aggressively however, so I am usually drenched by the time I get home. I hate being dirty, so I head straight for a shower. Actually I think I probably shower too much. Anyhoo, ever since I posted those lyrics earlier today, I have been thinking about the song. I've always really liked that song, but I digress. I'm in the shower singing "All Along the Watchtower" and when I reached the part where it goes "outside in the cold distance, a wild cat did growl",
Penny said "
ROOOOWWWWR!" from outside the shower. I fucking lost it. I think I've been giggling ever since.
My cats rawk!
Good 'ole number seven on
Google. I see my liver's reputation precedes me. I am two squirts of piss away from making Chinese throwing stars out of taped together letter openers and going ninja on every last muthafukka in this place. I'll take that as my queue to leave. Maybe I'll get hit by a car on the way home.
"All Along the Watchtower" - Bob Dylan
"There must be some way out of here",
said the joker to the thief.
"There's too much confusion, I can't get no relief
Businessmen they drink my wine, plowman dig my earth,
None of them along the line know what any of it is worth"
"No need to get excited," the thief, he kindly spoke,
"There are many here among us who think that life is but a joke
But you and I, we've been through that, and that is not our fate,
So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late"
All along the watchtower, princes kept the view,
while all the women came and went, barefoot servants, too
Outside in the distance a wildcat did growl,
two riders were approaching, the wind began to howl.
