Finally a new post

One of my new hobbies is to take a little trip to the poor side of town and pick up dirty needles. Bonus points for needles with blood on them. Sometimes when I'm feeling really ambitious I juggle them. What fun!

I’ve noticed that lately the word ‘sweet’ has found its way into my vocabulary. Your thoughts and prayers are appreciated during this difficult time.

I can’t afford certain kinds of cheese.

I am waging a relentless war on common sense and I need your help.

When I die (hopefully of old age) I want my body used for entertainment purposes only.

One of the great times of sadness in my life is watching bananas go to waste. It just really bothers me.

I’m not saying I can’t remember, I’m saying I forgot on purpose.

Sometimes I’m the deer and sometimes I’m the headlights. But most of the time I just don’t know.

A friend of mine was complaining that she didn’t have any talents.
“No.” I replied. “You’re wrong. You have a talent for fucking strangers.”

There is a saying that goes ‘The proof is in the pudding’. This is incorrect. There is no proof in there. It’s just more pudding.

There is nothing more clichéd than somebody who can’t spell writing on a bathroom wall. Serial killers who find religion in prison are pretty lame as well.

I'm feeling about as useful as a sniper with arthritis.

Ever noticed the similarities between taking money out of an ATM machine and pissing in a urinal? You're side by side with someone you don't know, getting your business done as privately as possible without looking over at the other person's pecker or ATM pin number and then you make your exit as quickly and efficiently as possible.

You come from success. It’s in your bloodline. Your parents had it. Their parents had it. It’s expected of you and you do what you’re told. You deliver. It’s your birthright. You have created a small, cozy little world of discipline and predictability. It feels right. People tell you it feels right. You believe them. You know how every day begins and how every day ends. There is comfort in that. It’s good to be comfortable. But every day you put your life in the hands of strangers. People whose lives are undisciplined and unpredictable. People that don’t even learn when they’re locked in a cell. But mostly that’s just the evening news. You live in the suburbs after all. Good for you. You became your parents.

Note: The author also lives in the suburbs. He is still coming to terms with it and it still remains a very sensitive issue.

I rarely watch daytime TV but the other day I found myself watching the Maury Povich show. What a manipulative, arrogant ass. He backs his 'guests' into a corner then acts all self-righteous and offended when they come out swinging. Must pay well to ruin lives.

Another random shooting at a mall in Nebraska. It’s almost as if this person may have thought “If I have to live in this climate of fear and paranoia, I’m going to do something worth fearing.” Also knowing that their sad little lives will live on in infamy as news anchors scramble to make sense of the tragic loss of life by interviewing psychiatrists and mental health professionals. And then the token statement “Do we need more security in public places?” I believe the answer to that is no. These violent acts are the price we pay for freedom. Does it make sense to have metal detectors and armed security at malls and schools? No. It just increases our collective state of paranoid fear. This gives some sad truth to the term “the urge to destroy is also a creative urge”, a refuge for losers for sure no matter how cynical it may sound. The more we allow these people to journey into our collective unconciousness the more we give them what they want: A pedestal for their anger and detachment. This is the price we pay for living in a free society. Simple as that. Increasing security in public places only shows these desperate people that their impotent acts of violence are registering on a much grander scale. We can’t allow them to have that satisfaction.
Note: The author has no problem with the lonely, the desperate or the detached as long as they're not violent assholes.

new poem written May 14, 2008

untitled

A wrong turn towards a new trend in madness
A desperate game of cruelty
Played each night
By desperate players
Aware of the price of being alone
Perpetuating the ultimate cliché
Indecency sold to the highest bidder
With all reasonable offers refused
Ashamed of the gnawing pain in your heart?
Willing to stand up for a mediocre life?
Don’t forget what’s beautiful
Your disguises are worse than offensive
They are boring
So I will do something you never could
Admit that I was wrong
and in turn,
Live free

"Dude, we have to get rid of this couch. It's disgusting."
"Why don't we just launch it over the balcony."
"What if it hits some poor, old woman?"
"Well, she wouldn't be poor and old anymore."