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butterfly kisses on blood stained lips
i'm feeling this bottle in my fingertips
a mis-struck string, my guitar begins to sing
out of key, floating on a chordial fling
who the hell are you to care about me?
look in this bottle for my golden key
and if you can find my shiny little lock
use it to understand why I just don't give a fuck

isn't wine poetry fun?

"Hallelujah" - Leonard Cohen Now I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
It goes like this
The fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah

Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah

Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew her
She tied you
To a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

You say I took the name in vain
I don't even know the name
But if I did, well really, what's it to you?
There's a blaze of light
In every word
It doesn't matter which you heard
The holy or the broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

I did my best, it wasn't much
I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch
I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you
And even though
It all went wrong
I'll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah

Fuck. Today is not going so well for me. The downhill slide started when I got up waaaaay to early and couldn't go back to sleep. My head felt like it was full of water. I sloshed my ass down to this Thai place near my house for some curry chicken. I have history with spicy food and restaurants. They never make the "spicy" dish spicy enough. I carefully and painfully explain with great patience to the waiter exactly how I wanted my dish prepared. I wanted to be able to take it outside and throw it on the hood of a car and watch the paint bubble off. I wanted to be able to remove driveway grease stains with it. I wanted him to be crying as he carried it to my table from just the fumes alone. I was 100% confident that he understood my instructions (including calling the chef a pussy and relaying that I didn't think he had the balls to make it hot). The resulting abortion contained less Scoville Heat Units than a jar of Gerber 1st Food peaches. Motherfuckers. Fuck them all... incompetent cocksucking bastards. I was livid... and extremely hungry, so I just ate it and left. The coffee shop fucked up my latte. Bitches. I thought, after the way my day started, that I'd move my Sunday pampering up a day because I deserve it and because surely my service hell wouldn't roll over into a third incident. I subsequently receive THE WORST manicure and pedicure I have ever experienced in my life. FUCK! You know the Seinfeld soup nazi? I was the Houston tip nazi today. If you look up over-tipper in the dictionary, there is a picture of me with cash in my hand. Not today. Fucktards. So, I am bummed because it's nasty ass weather still and everything is just going crappy AND I still don't feel great. Ring ring. Not-necessarily-a-date girl was calling to postpone/potentially cancel this evenings rendezvous. We haven't not-really-seen-each-other in a week and a half and I was looking forward to this evening. At this point, I'm waiting for the sniper bullet to put the cherry on top of my afternoon. So, I'm home and I'm gonna get purdied up and go see my good friend Harry and his partner Eric play some geeetar and fuck everybody else. Oh, btw, Lords of Acid are playing tonight but I don't have anyone to go with so fuck all. Motherfuck. FUCK. I just can't say fuck enough. I stopped by Whole Food Market and bought a nice red that I'm about to uncork and drink (the whole fucking bottle) before I leave tonight. They (Harry and Eric) are playing at Stag's Head in Shepherd Plaza in case anyone wants to see me fucking wasted. I'll be the guy either naked, masturbating in brandy snifters on top of the bar -or- laying in a puddle of my own vomit and urine somewhere in a corner. It'll be good fun and I intend to keep the day rolling in shit like it has been thus far. Fuck off.

I should still be sleeping. WHY am I not sleeping!?

The Donnas are coming to Fitzgerald's next month. They remind me of The Eyeliners except their not 25% penis... and if ask me, which you didn't, 100% vagina is better than 75% vagina any day. You know, I am feeling much better than I did this afternoon. I think Peter Gibbons style slack suits me. Maybe I'll have something (anything) to say mañana. Being sick is hard work. I'm exhausted. Sleepytime.

Sometimes you feel like a nut. Sometimes you don't. I have been sitting on the couch like a fucking bum since I got home from work at 6:30. Yes, six-fucking-thirty on a Friday. I only thought I was rollin' at five... but "da man" had other plans. One day I am going to start my own company so at least all those hours I put in will be working for me. I ate a cup of instant raman noodles for dinner... just like the good ole days when I was poorer than dried refried beans in the bottom of a taqueria dumpster. I almost shed a nostalgic tear. As I was channel surfing, I stumbled across a show I had never seen before. The Anna Nicole Smith show. How the fuck did this happen? No offense Ozzy, but I rank this right up there with the Osbourne's. It's absolutely fucking ridiculous and I just couldn't change the channel. Oh the shame of it all. Another show that I dig when I'm in the mood to drool on myself and wallow in corn chip crumbs on the couch is Jackass. Johnny Knoxville and his cronies are good fun. I especially like the one where he tried the personal protection products on himself (pepper spray, stun gun, etc.)... outstanding. My phone has been ringing a lot tonight. I've been in PJ's since 6:31 and there is no way in hell I'm leaving this house... unless it's on fire... and then I may consider it. I was standing outside today trying to get some fresh (albeit wet) air and the buildings adjacent to mine faded slowly into the fog to where there was no visibility toward the top of the building. It was just a gradient to white. That would have been a cool photo... the reflection of the stormy sky in the glass siding the building and the whole thing framed by the elements. I decided I need a good digital camera and some nifty carrying device... like a purse, but something that won't get me beat up on the playground. I'm really craving Ben & Jerry's Chubby Hubby ice cream right now. I met those guys once. Cool guys. I have to go back to the couch for some Howard Stern and utter boredom.

The weekend is here and I, like Jimi, am "stone free to ride on the breeze / stone free do what i please / stone free i can't stay / stone free i got to i got to get away / stone free go on down the highway / stone free don't try to hold me back baby / stone free oh yeah baby / stone free got to got to get away / stone free goodbye baby"

Trish is awesome. We were chatting earlier and I was being a whiney bitch about my headache and general discomfort from being sick. She asked me if I took anything for it. I said no... because I didn't have any painkillers in my office. She says ok. Some time passes and my phone rings. It's the mailroom. It's the mailroom with a hot shot courier delivery for me. Trish arranged to have 2 packs of Advil, 2 packs of Bayer, 2 packs of Anacin, 2 packs of Tylenol, and a pack of Motrin IB delivered to my downtown office via courier service. How fucking cool is she!? Thank you Trish! I am loaded up on OTC medicine now and well on my way to a better feeling head.

One bowl of vegetarian red beans and rice later (ala Treebeards), I dodge the trip to Colorado Springs and subsequent 18 hour work days for another week. Joe is going in my stead. Thank you Joe.

"I try in vain to drive myself insane. I talk to myself, but I don't listen." -Elvis Costello
A tornado hit Corpus Christi yesterday during a torrential downpour. Camron (my sister) goes to college there and apparently was trapped at school due to flooded roadways. The tornado hit the school and cause a wall to collapse at the library... killing one and injuring others. Just as I heard the news, I think I tasted what parents must feel when they don't know the status of their children. I've had that terrible feeling before, but it's been a while. It strange how we forget about things sometimes and take them for granted... things like relationships with family or friends out of town.

Condom sorter? What does he sort? Umm... sensitivity, size, texture (smooth, ribbed, studded, beaded), strength, flavor, scent, color, latex/non-latex/polyurethane, lubricated/non-lubricated/spermicidally lubricated... wtf? There is a job for this? This just overtook register boy at hash bar in Amsterdam on my list of low stress fallback jobs.

I hate being sick. I feel so... well... sick. Heh. I am happy it's Friday however, and in the true spirit of starting the weekend on the right foot, I stopped at Chez Satan this morning and loaded up some drink carriers with love juice for my office compadres. I should know by noon-ish if I am leavin' on a jet plane (don't know if I'll be back again... leavin'... ahem. sorry.) for Colorado Springs. Yesterday was Flavie's birthday. I had contacted her the day before to tell her HBd, but oddly her parents called me last night to ask if I'd heard from her. How can you not return your family's calls on your birthday? There seem to be quite a few Halloween parties going on this Saturday night. I am not going to any of them. I haven't dressed up for Halloween since 1999... I was a knight's squire. I am not feeling festive enough to put forth the effort. Sluuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurp... mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmn... coffee.

Exhibit A: Clayton laughs playfully at the joke his Tanqueray and tonic just told him. Notice glasses whack wound between eyes... a keen angle with which to peek directly into blood stream and visually gauge his blood alcohol level. Intoxication is evident to even the most casual observer. (also note that Operation Corporate Scruff is continuing on schedule much to the dismay of one said Chief Information Officer)




Exhibit B: Gil acts like tree. Clayton hangs from him.
Exhibit C: Clayton is hungry and tries to eat straw while Gil is coy with the camera.
Exhibit D: Gil tries to suck Audra's brain our through her ear. Clayton is not spilling drink.
Exhibit E: Irfan arrives after being "out" "somewhere" doing "something" with some "people".
Exhibit F: Audra is not stoned. Clayton is high on life.
Exhibit G: Kindergarten style.

After careful examination of photos, it can be seen that Clayton and his liver are pals and Clayton smiles entirely too much. Thank you for your participation. Goodnight.

I am trying like mad to dodge a flight to Colorado that will place me working through the weekend. I'm sick. I am absolutely the neediest sick boy on Earth. I need lots and lots of TLC and pampering. I'm miserable when I'm sick. I'm sick. Anyhoo, I've got a bulimic cat. I forgot to mention that the other day. I believe Bianca binges on kitty food and the goes in the bathroom stall to purge. I always wondered how she kept such a supermodel figure. Penny has always been jealous. I really need to go grocery shopping, but there is a giant bucket of water pouring from the clouds above Houston right now. Where the hell did this come from? ps. I'm still at work and my day is getting worse by the second. Yay me!

pps. fuck

"l(a" - e.e. cummings

l(a
le
af
fa

ll

s)
one
l

iness