The Last of the Magicians

Blood of Heroes Part II

2009-06-11T19:07:00.000-07:00

George Carlin. What else can I say? The man had an amazingly long career, spanning decades. To tell you the truth, I had a hell of a time deciding what picture to post here-being that there are so many to choose from and several of them couldn't be more different. I eventually chose the one above because it seems to be from somewhere in the middle: not his button-down suit and tie days on the Steve Allen era Tonight's Show, and not from the more recent years when you could see him getting weaker month to month. This one seemed to be George at the prime of his life.
I was exposed to George Carlin at an early age. I caught one of his HBO specials when I was around 12 or 13 and have loved him ever since. He actually planted the first seeds in my head which led to my eventual break from organized religion (or maybe religion in general. I haven't quite gotten to that point yet). If I remember correctly, it was:

In the Bullshit Department, a businessman can't hold a candle to a clergyman. 'Cause I gotta tell you the truth, folks. When it comes to bullshit, big-time, major league bullshit, you have to stand in awe of the all-time champion of false promises and exaggerated claims: religion. No contest. No contest. Religion. Religion easily has the greatest bullshit story ever told. Think about it. Religion has actually convinced people that there's an invisible man -- living in the sky -- who watches everything you do, every minute of every day. And the invisible man has a special list of ten things he does not want you to do. And if you do any of these ten things, he has a special place, full of fire and smoke and burning and torture and anguish, where he will send you to live and suffer and burn and choke and scream and cry forever and ever 'til the end of time! But He loves you. He loves you, and He needs money! He always needs money! He's all-powerful, all-perfect, all-knowing, and all-wise, somehow just can't handle money! Religion takes in billions of dollars, they pay no taxes, and they always need a little more. Now, you talk about a good bullshit story. Holy Shit!

My father had actually said pretty much this same thing to me earlier, but I wasn't read to hear it. In the interest of being fair. I slowly took in just about everything I could get by and about George Carlin, checking his books out of the library, watching his comedy specials, nothing over the top. I came to truely admire him and I still do. I don't mean to populate my list entirely with stand-up commedians (and I won't), but they seem to usually be the only ones saying what needs to be said, and nobody said it better than Carlin. I remember after he died, I read an article by Chris Rock where he commented on the fact that he (Rock) was always being compared to Bill Cosby and Richard Pryor. And, while he admitted that he admired both of those guys, he personally felt that his style was much closer to George Carlin's, in the fact that Carlin never seemed to do ANY joke more than a few times (7 Dirty Words not withstanding). This, Rock said, was in stark contrast to the current trend in comedy which is to find a popular routine and run it INTO THE FUCKING GROUND. Git'r'done indeed.
Needless to say, I've always liked that analysis of Carlin's career, and I've always loved Carlin himself. As Neil Young famously said, it's better to burn out than fade away. Surprisingly George Carlin never did either.

Recomended Reading:

"We have to declare war on everything. We have the war on crime, the war on poverty, the war on litter, the war on cancer, the war on drugs. But did you ever notice, we got no war on homelessness? You know why? There's no money in that problem! No money to be made off of the homeless. If you could find a solution to homelessness where the corporate swine and the politicians could steal a couple of million dollars each, you'd see the streets of America begin to clear up pretty god-damned quick, I'll guarantee you that!"

"Once you leave the womb, conservatives don’t care about you until you reach military age. Then you’re just what they’re looking for. Conservatives want live babies so they can raise them to be dead soldiers."

When I was a kid, if a guy got killed in a western movie I always wondered who got his horse

And I leave you with my personal Mantra:

Don't confuse my point of view with cynicism. The real cynics are the ones who tell you that everything`s gonna be all right.

Blood of Heroes Part I

2009-06-03T16:02:00.000-07:00

This is the first in a short series I'm going to do about some of my favorite modern philosophers (if you'll forgive the term). These are people, I guess, who in one way or another have changed my outlook and/or perspective in some signifigant way. Also, this list is in no particular order. So, here it goes:

The first entry is somebody that alot of people aren't too familiar with, and I think I can safely say that he will be the most ecclectic of my personal Jesi. It's BILL HICKS! And if you don't know him, youtube his ass right now-the man is a fuckin' prophet. He was a stand up comedian who was active from the early 80's until his death in 1994 from pancreatic cancer. Most people have seen or heard bits and pieces from his stand up routines and not known it was him, and several people (including a handful of other stand-up comedians) have accused Dennis Leary of ripping him off and thus stealing some of the fame that rightfully should have gone to Hicks. I can't say much on this except that they both have a similar style. Truthfully, though, it's a moot point. I personally believe that the reason Hicks never made it to the level of some other comedians of his day was the fact that:

A) His style, even by todays standards, was pretty harsh and abrassive (see below)

and B) He hit his stride in the era of Full House and George H.W. Bush "family values"

That being said, I truely love this guy. I was introduced to him at some point during my first year of college when a friend of mine played me a CD one night when, I assume, we were sitting around with nothing to do. I don't remember exactly. But I often find that whenever a seemingly original thought pops into my head, a quick Google search reveals that Bill already said it better. Here are some of those times:

I think it's interesting the two drugs that are legal, alcohol and cigarettes, two drugs that do absolutely nothing for you at all; and the drugs that might open your mind up to realize how badly you're being fucked every day of your life?...Those drugs are against the law. Heheh, coincidence?

Why is pot against the law? It wouldn't be because anyone can grow it, and therefore you can't make a profit off it, would it?

Go back to bed, America. Your government has figured out how it all transpired. Go back to bed, America. Your government is in control again. Here. Here's American Gladiators. Watch this, shut up. Go back to bed, America. Here is American Gladiators. Here is 56 channels of horseshit! Watch these pituitary retards bang their fucking skulls together and congratulate you on living in the land of freedom. Here you go, America! You are free to do what we tell you! You are free to do what we tell you!

I'll show you politics in America. Here it is, right here. "I think the puppet on the right shares my beliefs." "I think the puppet on the left is more to my liking." "Hey, wait a minute, there's one guy holding out both puppets!" "Shut up! Go back to bed, America. Your government is in control. Here's Love Connection. Watch this and get fat and stupid. By the way, keep drinking beer, you fucking morons."

If you want more, here it is:

They lie about marijuana. Tell you pot-smoking makes you unmotivated. Lie! When you're high, you can do everything you normally do just as well — you just realize that it's not worth the fucking effort. There is a difference.

"I believe that the Bible is the literal word of God." And I say no, it's not, Dad. "Well I believe that it is." Well, you know, some people believe they're Napoleon. That's fine. Beliefs are neat. Cherish them, but don't share them like they're the truth.

I was watching Rush Limbaugh the other day. Doesn't Rush Limbaugh remind you of one of those gay guys that like to lie in a tub while other guys pee on him?

Pot is a better drug than alcohol. Fact!... I'll prove it to you. If you're at a ball game or a concert and someone's really violent and aggressive and obnoxious, are they drunk or are they smoking pot?

One last thing- the following is taken from the Wikipedia entry regarding Bill's death:

"In 1993, after being diagnosed with cancer, Hicks would often joke openly at performances exclaiming it would be his last. Hicks performed the actual final show of his career at Caroline's in New York on January 6, 1994. He moved back to his parents' house in Little Rock, Arkansas, shortly thereafter. He called his friends to say goodbye, before he stopped speaking on February 14, and re-read J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Fellowship of the Ring.[17] He spent time with his parents, playing them the music he loved and showing them documentaries about his interests. He died of cancer in the presence of his parents at 11:20 p.m. on February 26, 1994."

Italics are mine. I must say, also, that even if that entire paragraph turns out to be untrue, I'm still going to believe it. That is a fucking Viking funeral right there.

Lastly, all of the above quotes are from Wiki Quote. There are tons more, as well as Youtube movies to beat the band if you liked what you read. Hope you enjoyed it. More clip shows to follow.

Welcome to Thunderdome

2009-04-17T19:01:00.001-07:00

A story broke a couple days ago on the local news scene, where-by an off duty City of Erie police officer was filmed (with a cellphone camera) in a local bar laughing and joking about, among other things, the scene of a recent homicide outside of a bar not far from where I live.

"His fuckin' leg was twitching like this...like a fuckin' chicken," he says, referring to 31 year old murder victim Rondale Jennings as he lay dying on the sidewalk. A chorus of laughter accompanies his Rush Limbaugh-esque impression of the final spasms of a brain deprived of oxygen. Here's the link;

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OAHMsCO3Diw

the part I'm referring to is right at the beginning, but feel free to watch the entire thing. He goes on to recount the hilarity that ensued when Jennings' mother arrived on the scene to ID her son's body after the coroner pronounced him dead:

"We lift the bag off his head, and she's like 'OH MY GOOODDDD!!!!!!!', and I was like 'Holy shit, that's your kid. What's up? " (3:15)

Deservedly, the cop is seriously in deep shit-he's been suspended with pay until Internal Affairs can decide if his conduct violated any rules (enough to get him fired) or he is just a bag of shit (which, unfortunately, does not warrant dismissal). Several groups around the city have demanded that he be fired, if for no other reason then he is a disgrace to the Erie Police Department, if not all police officers in general. There's alot more to the story that I won't get into, but here's the rundown:

-The chief of police tracked down the brother of the man who posted the video and threatened him and his brother with federal wiretapping charges (despite the EPD not being the FBI)

-The District Attorney saying the same thing-the FBI is not even involved, but even if they were it is not wiretapping since it was filmed in a public place-and telling the chief of police to suck a dick (yea Brad Foulk).

and it goes on....

A friend of the officer (Cousins is his name btw) who appears in the foreground of the video had this to say in his buddy's defense:

"He was hanging out and blowing off steam...It was just a night out with friends that someone blew out of context causing a lot of trouble for someone who puts their lives [sic] on the line for us every day."

And this, believe it or not, is probably the place where I take the most personal offense. All of the things contained in the video are pretty bad, but honestly, who expects any more from 90% of cops. I personally know a few, both current and former officers, and they all talk like this (albeit not nearly so insensitively). It's a coping mechanism for people who see some pretty awful shit from day to day. People sometimes forget that cops are constantly lied to, threatened, placed in harms way, pushed on by political figures, and subject to all types of blood, death, misery, suffering, greed, hate... And yet they still wonder why they're condescending, mistrustful balls of nervous energy. I get it, and I sympathize. It's an extraordinarily difficult job, and the burnout rate is high. The difference is that it is SUCH A GOOD JOB. Pay is good (Cousins pay, as a matter of public record is $53,256), benefits are good, pensions are great (and possibly the last surviving actual pensions left in the world), and alot of people truely respect you. Shouldn't that all be enough? And if not, if you truely have that dark of a world view, then get the fuck out. Step aside and let somebody else take over for a while. People are losing jobs and homes at the highest rate since the great depression, and we not only have to listen to your awful interpretations of tragic events, but then have to be subject to the tired, "I'm a hero because I put my life on the line" speech ad nausium. Not good enough.

And even if Cousins does manage to keep his job, he'll be a target for the rest of his tenure as a police officer. I don't wish harm upon him at all, and certainly don't condone violence against police, but...sorry Tex - you lose. "Anything you say can be used against you" isn't just something you mouth as you toss people headfirst into the back of a car before going of to get shitfaced with your cackling friends. It means something in this increasingly technological society, and as a 40 year old officer of the law he should be smart enough to know that.

Times like these

2009-04-13T19:13:00.000-07:00

Oh damn...shit has been crazy. Everything has been all over the place, but I don't feel like getting into it right this minute-I'll be posting those things in depth within the next week (if anybody cares). I'm only glad that my job is keeping me grounded and busy as hell, otherwise I'd be losing it.

But, what I wanted to post this week was a website that I stumbled across. Or, more accurately, it's a blog. The guy who posts it has Tourette's (like me) and his posts are pretty spot on to how my day to day life goes, though I will admit that he has it a bit worse than I do. Take everything he says and dial it down a notch (just one) and you pretty much get me. He really saves me the trouble of saying all of the things he says. Also his entire blog is in comic book form. I wish I had thought of that. So enjoy.

P.S. Sorry, but you'll have to click a link to get to it. I dont' know how to embed this shit yet.

http://benchilada.livejournal.com/tag/fuckbrain+comix

Three Short Films About Brian Carrol

2009-03-01T19:12:00.000-08:00

-subtitled- humor me before I have to go.

THEME:

I had the urge earlier today to look up an old friend of mine whom I haven't thought about in quite a while, but has always made me feel better: Mr. (Fred) Rogers. I'm serious.

I've reached an age now where I can honestly start giving "back in the day speeches", as in:

"When I was your age there was no instant gratification when it came to our entertainment. Television shows weren't on any sort of recorded medium (i.e. DVD's), so if you missed an episode, you missed it FOREVER, unless you were lucky enough to catch it in syndication, and even then it was almost impossible because your only point of reference was the half-assed TV guide that came with the Sunday paper, and you needed the damn enigma code machine to deceiver it."

Those who are amazed by that statement will really love this- even if you had cable (we eventually did) you still only had about 40 channels (which in truth, even today, is more than you really need). What I'm saying is television had a very passive role in my early life. I mean, I watched it, but didn't take much from it. Case in point, the only thing I legitimately remember watching, next to a few assorted G.I. Joe and Transformer's episodes, is PBS and a few shows on Nickelodeon. This was when Nickelodeon first aired and consisted of mostly of old British TV shows and a couple newer things thrown in*. I don't know what you would call it now. Tween bullshit. I can vividly remember watching Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood, so something about it must have stuck with me-something that hardly any of those other shows had*.

Which is why I got to Googling the late Mr. Rogers today. Inside of my normally cynical self, there lurks an optimist. I am the old walking cliche of someone who hopes that everything will turn out alright, but knows better. Somehow, though, when I found this quote on some random website years ago it echoed with me-and this was a time when I was far more of an angry, jaded, sexist, and bitter person. It echos with me still:

I'm proud of you for the times you've said 'yes' when all it meant was extra work for you and seemingly helpful to only somebody else. I'm proud of you for the times you've said 'no' when all it seemed to mean was a loss of pleasure yet eventually supported the growth of somebody else and yourself. I'm proud of you for the times you came in second, or third, or fourth, but what you did was the best you had ever done. I'm proud of you for standing for something you believed in- something that wasn't particularly popular but something which assured the rights of someone less fortunate than you. I'm proud of you for anything you can think of that allows you to feel proud of yourself. --Fred Rogers

FIRST VARIATION:

I, like several people I guess, used to be obsessed with my personal level of "realness". This related mostly to the degree to which I would or would not compromise myself for my strongly held ideals of the time. The sixties were alive and well inside my little slice of the universe, at least as far as I was concerned. I wasn't going to take any office job, or any other job for that matter, which cramped my endless style. I was going to keep doing what I had to do until my band made it out of Erie. Anyway, to make a long story slightly less long I added this quote to my manifesto of words to live by:

Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real." "Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit. "Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt." "Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?" "It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in your joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand.-- by Margery Williams, from The Velveteen Rabbit --

I still love this quote but for totally different reasons I won't go into here. I just wanted to share it with you. The last sentence still makes me a bit misty. Also, as an interesting side note: While I was looking this up to put it in this blog entry I read that several people use this quote in their wedding vows. I can't imagine why. I'm not being sarcastic.

SECOND VARIATION:

This last one will be short. It's the opening theme song from a show I can remember LOVING as a child. I actually remember watching it with my grandfather once when I stayed home sick from school, and how much we both enjoyed it. The show was called "The World of David the Gnome" and I'm including it because I think my subconscious loves this intro more than my conscious mind does. I don't know if it's the guy's voice, the fantastic (adj. form of fantasy) nature of the show, or just the nostalgia factor, but EVERY time that my life has gotten so seemingly out of control that the proverbial pot is about to boil over I'll have a dream where this song plays and it always brings me back.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NF7HEJrz6pU

Usually when I wake up I'm slightly teary-eyed. Don't say I never told you anything useful.

Thoughts on the Millenium

2009-01-20T18:20:00.000-08:00

I was sitting in a cafeteria at Edinboro University when 9/11 happened. I was eating a bagel. I remember thinking, "I can't believe this is happening". I don't mean that in the sense that most everyone else does-I'm too cynical to be thinking some lame shit like: "How can this, the greatest country in the world, be the target of such a heinous attack. Surely some godless heathens are to blame." No, what happened was actually a long time coming. (*NOTE* This is not an anti-American statement in any way, so I don't want to get any letters, e-mails, phone calls, telegrams, smoke signals, singing valentines or memos about it.) What struck me that day was the finality of it - that the World Trade Center wasn't going to be there anymore, and that (as they were first estimating a death toll around 30,000 or something) this was going to affect EVERYONE, myself included, of a personal level in some way. Anyone would agree that this was the definitive beginning to the George W. Bush presidency and what would lay the ground work for almost everything that administration did over the next seven years.

Today, I sat in another cafeteria and watched the definitive end to that administration as Barrack HUSSEIN Obama was sworn in as the 44th President.

Audacity of Hope indeed.

Simon Says...

2008-12-24T12:44:00.000-08:00

Did you know that the song “The 12 Days of Christmas” is a coded message used to teach Catholic children about the bible during the Anglican Reformation in England? According to one website:

“Catholics in England during the period 1558 to 1829 were prohibited by law to practice their faith either in public or private. It was illegal to be Catholic until Parliament finally emancipated Catholics in England in 1829[…] The 12 Days of Christmas is in a sense an allegory. Each of the items in the song represents something significant to the teachings of the Catholic faith. The hidden meaning of each gift was designed to help Catholic children learn their faith. The better acquainted one is with the Bible, the more these interpretations have significance.”

It then lists the different days and what they mean:

1 Partridge in a pear tree = Jesus Christ2 Turtle Doves = The Old and New Testaments3 French Hens = Faith, Hope and Charity4 Calling Birds = the Four Gospels and/or the Four Evangelists 5 Golden Rings = The first Five Books of the Old Testament, the 'Pentateuch' which contain the law condemning us of our sins.6 Geese A-laying = the six days of creation7 Swans A-swimming = the gifts of the Holy Spirit: Prophesy, Serving, Teaching, Exhortation, Contribution, Leadership, and Mercy.8 Maids A-milking = the eight beatitudes9 Ladies Dancing = the nine Fruits of the Spirit10 Lords A-leaping = the Ten Commandments11 Pipers Piping = the eleven faithful apostles12 Drummers Drumming = the twelve points of doctrine in the Apostle's Creed

Isn’t that interesting?

No, it’s not.

Because it’s completely fucking wrong. And nothing about it makes any sense. I could go into great detail outlining why this whole idea is so completely batshit crazy, but most of what I say would be cribbed from the excellent Snopes article on this very subject. And here it is -

http://www.snopes.com/holidays/christmas/12days.asp

Go ahead and read it. I’ll wait…..Done? Welcome back. Did you like that? Wasn’t the final sentence just the best thing you’ve ever read? If you didn’t read it, basically it says that the song was likely a memory game people played in the days when the ball and cup game was the pinnacle of entertainment. One person named a gift (“A partridge in a pear tree”), and the next person added to it before repeating the previous gifts (“Two turtle doves/and a partridge in a pear tree”), and on around the circle adding more and more until people couldn’t keep it going anymore. Just like Simon. Aren’t I clever?
Anyway, by now I’ve taken up about 10 minutes of your time, and I’m sure you’re wondering why. Well, I’ve been hearing this particular myth for some years now, and I’m truthful enough to say that the first time I heard it, I sort of believed it. I mean, that song must be about something, and it’s in our nature as humans to seek out the origins of things. Case closed. And I didn’t think about it again AT ALL for a couple years.
Then, one boring day, I happened upon the article listed above and my eyebrows raised, I put the information into the part of my mind where I keep useless factoids, and once again I didn’t think about it again. But I’ll be damned (no pun intended) if the following Christmas this story didn’t spring up like a bloody pox. I must have had to sit through five or six different people rattling off this claptrap, their voices the very definition of matter-of-fact as enthralled audiences nodded along with self satisfied shit eating grins on their faces*. And you may not be able to infer from my typical blog posts, but I’m actually not the type of person who likes correcting people to their faces, especially in public. There’s rarely any point to it. So I let it go, hoping that one day they would figure out the truth (and quietly hoping that a far bigger asshole than me who KNEW the truth would get the satisfaction of telling them.)
Basically though, for me it all comes down to two things – First, stop telling me how hard it is to be a Christian and trying to illustrate your point with ridiculous tales like this. Nobody cares, least of all me, and I will kick you in your crotch regardless of your gender. And second, if you’re going to devote your life to something (like a religious faith) at least have the decency to do the fucking research. Every year people piss and moan about how commercial Christmas is, and how we need to put Christ back into it. And if you believe that, good. Good for you. Don’t stop believing in something. Just make sure that something isn’t some shit somebody made up.

*Note: This sentence contains WAAAAYYYYYY too much description. But I just really want you to understand. Forgive me.

Hold me closer...

2008-12-10T17:19:00.000-08:00

Ok, this is a post I've been meaning to do for a while so bear with me and strap in; it's gonna be a long one.

If you asked me what my favorite movie was (and people often do), my answer would be a slightly evasive "It depends on my mood. There are so many." And that's true - at any given time it might be Seven Samurai (if I'm in an action movie phase), The Godfather (if I'm feeling drama), Malcolm X (because he's the coolest person ever) or Schindler's List (I have my reasons). But whatever my answer, there is always an asterix attached. One of these ---> *. Without a doubt my always and forever favorite movie is Almost Famous (in addition to one of the above). Every time I watch it I find it means more to me than the last time. Now, I'm not going to defend it as the best movie ever made; Cameron Crowe is really just John Hughes for the late nineties, and his movies are in much the same vein. But no film speaks to me more than this one, and here's why:

Most everyone who knows me understands that I've always been in bands since I was about 12 years old. I started playing out in bars and clubs a couple months after my 19th birthday, and I continue to do so to this day. The exact number of bands I've been in is a subjective question. If you count the numbers of different people that I've jammed with over the years with the intention of starting a band only to have it fall through after one or two practices, than...probably between 50 and 80. If, however, you only count the projects that got off the ground then I would have to say I've been in around five bands (two of which played out semi-professionally). I've been a musician since I was 12 and through my teen years and into my twenties that was all I wanted to be. The story of why that's no longer exactly true is a longer one and definitely for another day. But, during those years I focused on nothing else. I went through junior high, high school and some of college having never played any sports (save for one half-hearted year of football during which I never played), dated ANYONE or been a member of any type of activity. I just wanted to play in bands and, I hoped, be semi-successful at it. I could write an entire book about all of the ins and outs of this, and how and why it made me who I am for better and worse. Instead I'll move on.
Bands, you see, are alot like a bad relationship. Everyone goes into it thinking that it's the best thing ever. You'll have a couple practices where everything seems to gel, and everyone will be getting along so well. You'll know in the back of your mind that every previous band you've been in started in just this same fashion, and they all invariably ended up a mangled corpse of bruised egos, stupid ideas and frivolous anger. "This time, though, it's different" you'll tell yourself. "This is the ONE." And, to all appearances, it is. You'll master a few songs, put together some of your own, book some shows, and maybe even get some recognition. Things have never been better. Then slowly things start to crumble. People who were perfectly happy in the limelight will start to demand that their ideas be heard. Women will start coming around. And bit by bit everything ends up in the same public toilet as your last venture.
I was always left holding the bag in these situations because, and stay with me here, I had the purest motives.
"Bullshit" you say, and you're right to do so, but let me say this. I won't deny that it's nice to look out onto a sea of people and know that they came to see you (at least partly), or that it's nice to have praise heaped upon you, and it's certainly nice to get the attention of women you wouldn't even dream of talking to otherwise (and I must interject here that sex is almost NEVER a factor here. Don't let movies fool you into thinking that small local acts get more ass than a toilet seat. That's for the big guys.) But I was never in it for those reasons. I was in it because I LOVED music and how it allowed me to express myself. And that's the secret. If you do something for any other reason than it makes you truly happy you'll never stick with it. You'll elope with the first pretty face that comes your way. And everyone always did.
But I digress, and I fear that I've lost you, or at least that I've gone completely off topic. Forgive me for that, this is a sensitive subject for me. So I'll leave you with this one final thought.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Qn3tel9FWU

Watch it please and watch it all. If you somehow managed to get inside my head (no pun intended) this video would be playing in a constant loop. I guess I've said enough. I'll write more if it's seems warranted.

Thanks for reading.

Just for you

2008-12-09T17:32:00.001-08:00

Since I haven't made any comments about it yet, I started my new job yesterday. It's a bit overwhelming to be working in a new place in a completely new field. Nevertheless, it's not the degree of culture shock I've had when starting other jobs in the past. Maybe because I'm finally old enough to realize that it's pointless to worry about most of the things people worry about when they go into a completely alien (and possibly hostile) environment. To give you an example of what that means, I refer to people liking you, wanting to be immediately good at the new job, worrying about how you look, ect... You get the point.

I'll post alot more about this soon I'm sure, but I worked 12 straight hours today with almost no rest. My face hurts, and I didn't even use it except to eat.

2008-11-30T07:28:00.000-08:00

Turtle, Swan

Because the road to our house
is a back road, meadowlands punctuated
by gravel quarry and lumberyard,
there are unexpected travelers
some nights on our way home from work.
Once, on the lawn of the Tool

and Die Company, a swan;
the word doesn't convey the shock
of the thing, white architecture
rippling like a pond's rain-pocked skin,
beak lifting to hiss at my approach.
Magisterial, set down in elegant authority,

he let us know exactly how close we might come.
After a week of long rains
that filled the marsh until it poured
across the road to make in low woods
a new heaven for toads,
a snapping turtle lumbered down the center

of the asphalt like an ambulatory helmet.
His long tail dragged, blunt head jutting out
of the lapidary prehistoric sleep of shell.
We'd have lifted him from the road
but thought he might bend his long neck back
to snap. I tried herding him; he rushed,

though we didn't think those blocky legs
could hurry-- then ambled back
to the center of the road, a target
for kids who'd delight in the crush
of something slow with the look
of primeval invulnerability. He turned

the blunt spear point of his jaws,
puffing his undermouth like a bullfrog,
and snapped at your shoe,
vising a beakful of-- thank God--
leather. You had to shake him loose. We left him
to his own devices, talked on the way home

of what must lead him to new marsh
or old home ground. The next day you saw,
one town over, remains of shell
in front of the little liquor store. I argued
it was too far from where we'd seen him,
too small to be his... though who could tell

what the day's heat might have taken
from his body. For days he became a stain,
a blotch that could have been merely
oil. I did not want to believe that
was what we saw alive in the firm center
of his authority and right

to walk the center of the road,
head up like a missionary moving certainly
into the country of his hopes.
In the movies in this small town
I stopped for popcorn while you went ahead
to claim seats. When I entered the cool dark

I saw straight couples everywhere,
no single silhouette who might be you.
I walked those two aisles too small
to lose anyone and thought of a book
I read in seventh grade, "Stranger Than Science,"
in which a man simply walked away,

at a picnic, and was,in the act of striding forward
to examine a flower, gone.
By the time the previews ended
I was nearly in tears-- then realized
the head of one-half the couple in the first row

was only your leather jacket propped in the seat
that would be mine. I don't think I remember
anything of the first half of the movie.
I don't know what happened to the swan. I read
every week of some man's lover showing
the first symptoms, the night sweat

or casual flu, and then the wasting begins
and the disappearance a day at a time.
I don't know what happened to the swan;
I don't know if the stain on the street
was our turtle or some other. I don't know
where these things we meet and know briefly,

as well as we can or they will let us,
go. I only know that I do not want you--
you with your white and muscular wings
that rise and ripple beneath or above me,
your magnificent neck, eyes the deep mottled autumnal colors
of polished tortoise-- I do not want you ever to die.

-Mark Doty

This is my favorite poem ever. It might be because I met Mark Doty once at a reading (and the preceding reception), and I heard him personally read it with the explanation that is was what it so obviously is - a poem about his lover dying of AIDS. It might be that I was so immediately impressed by him on a personal level: the fact that we shared the same affection for Tolstoy, but above that the simple fact that he was so approachable and interesting and fun.

Anyway, as for why I'm posting it: Despite the fact that I have a degree in Lit, I've never been a big poetry guy. I appreciate poetry, and I have read several poems that I've liked, but poetry hardly ever made its way into my daily life the way that straight up prose fiction did. Outside of the select few poems that have implanted themselves into the modern subconscious (Two roads diverged...yeah, see? Try and judge me now), what poems I liked were quickly forgotten. This poem is really the sole exception to that. Lines from it randomly pop into my head all the time. So Reason #1 was the fact that it's a fantastic poem. So read it.

"This is the worst kind of discrimination. The kind against me."
--Bender Bending Rodriguez

Reason #2 is like that quote: more depressing because it involves my life. I was watching some of "The Two Towers" on TV last night (aren't marathons great?) and I got to thinking about a friend of mine who used to LOVE the Lord of the Rings. We worked together and I don't know how many hours we must have spent talking about those books and movies. He eventually moved to another house, and eventually left the Center altogether. We lost touch, but I'd always hoped to run into him again. I still had a book he loaned me for one, but I missed the guy too. A couple months ago I heard an unconfirmed rumor that he'd suffered a massive stroke (he was, I think, 53 or 54) and they were going to take him off life support. I tried in vain to find out if this were true until I saw his obituary in the paper two days later. After my initial acceptance, I figured that at least I would be able to go see him one last time. I scanned to the bottom of the article to find where and when the funeral and/or showing would be when I happened upon the line, "burial will be private. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to the family" and then it had somebody's home address. Classy.

So Lord of the Rings brought me to my friend, which brought me to Turtle, Swan, which brought me to you.

T-minus 8 days...

2008-11-28T14:20:00.000-08:00

...until I start my new job. Now here is a random video of a gecko dancing to 50 cent.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oCag3fkxlx8

I dare you to watch this and not laugh. I dare you.

And make sure your friends are there to see it.

You're welcome.

I swear I won't do this alot.

Life During Wartime

2008-11-26T08:26:00.000-08:00

I thought that today I would actually try blogging instead of just throwing up random thoughts from inside my head for all to ignore. So here it goes.

Michael Moore was on Larry King on November 19th to discuss the proposal to divert some of the $700 billion (with a "B") Wall Street "bailout" to the big three automaker to alleviate some of their financial woes. Here's the link (and I suggest you watch it if possible):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j0bbOZ-nkJs

The whole thing is just over 7 minutes long, but the part I'm talking about starts at the 5 minute mark.

I personally love Michael Moore. Not so much for his politics, which are hit and miss with regards to my own, but for being so much of a d-bag. He truly does not give a fuck, and whether he's right or not, we need people like him. If you hate him, then...good.

Anyway, for those who don't watch it, he basicly says that this is the opportunity we've been needing for some time to force a change in the auto industry. Tell these companies that if they want this money, they will have to start building hybrid cars, fuel efficient SUV's, mass transit systems, and all of the work needs to be done in America. I'll let you draw your own conclussion, but I'd like to hear about it when you do.

Cheers.

More new beginnings

2008-11-20T20:08:00.000-08:00

I heard today that I finally got hired at Erie Insurance. For those of you that don't know (and those that do) I have been trying to crack that nut for years. I can't tell you how many times I've gone onto their website hoping to find a job posting that I could even think about applying for, or how many times I got dressed up and walked down there resume in hand, to only be sent packing by the receptionist (though I harbor no ill will toward her and never did).

To new beginnings...

2008-11-18T10:04:00.000-08:00

Here are links to a couple of videos that make me smile. The first is, I'm sure, the sort of thing that a child of mine will do some adorable time.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-teM03FPUow

The next one is NOT safe for work, but DO watch it sometime. It's probably my favorite video ever.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bq1_6D9QS9Y

Enjoy.

I get like that sometimes

2008-11-12T21:02:00.000-08:00

I remember when I was a small child, every Thanksgiving (that I can remember at least) was held at our house. Relatives would come and go, in a rush to get to as many different gatherings as they could cram into a day. It never bothered me; there's not even anything in particular which sticks in my mind outside of a few random images. To tell you the truth Thanksgiving never meant that much to me. What does stick with me, though, is the memory of getting up from the table in those days and thinking, "That's it...it's now officially Christmas."

Like most every child I enjoyed Christmas, though not for the rampant commercialism. I'm not going to lie and say that the prospect of new things didn't excite me, but I just liked the fact that it was the one time a year that my whole family, well my mother's side of the family, got together in one place. Everything would be filled with a positive energy, and my memories of those years past are full motion videos in my mind. I recall, for instance, that this was the setting in which I saw "The Princess Bride" for the first time. See what I mean?

But, actually, that entire story is not even the point of the blog. No, I somewhat wasted your time with it in order to tell you this story:

Every year, when the gifts had all been unwrapped and the final person had left, I would go to bed and lay awake for what seemed like hours fearing the prospect of the next day. I was now, for all intents and purposes inside the mind of a child, at the furthest point between two Christmas's. New York to Paris. I would begin to think that I hadn't actually lived in the moment quite enough - that I had taken this last month for granted and now it was gone for an entire year. And so, when the following Thanksgiving rolled around and I got up from that table, I would begin to try hanging on to the random happy moments that occurred during the Christmas holiday. The trouble was, I could never seem to keep it up for very long. There were always too many other things going on for me to stop and appreciate what was going on around me, and I was without fail left with the same feeling at the end of every December 25th.

I've always tried to hold on to moments too much, and as a result I've always been overly wistful. And that's how I feel right now about a few certain things.

That was the point of this blog. I could go on...for a while. But I won't. Thanks for reading this far. Let me know what you think, because I'd like to hear it.

And don't worry, they won't all be this long.

...and we're live.

2008-11-10T14:03:00.000-08:00

This is my first blog. Thanks to May for giving me the idea (or more properly letting me steal it). More to follow.