Do you want me to deprioritize my current reports until you advise me of a status upgrade?

Once again I've been off of work for too long: one whole week. It is Monday and I have no job prospects on the horizon but I do have a bunch of bills coming due in a few weeks. Awesome. I hate when things slow down as the bills never slow down. Maybe they even speed up, I can't really tell. It's depressing, really. You'd think I'd be able to appreciate the time off but no, I can't, not really anyway. Right now all I can think of is how the fuck am I going to pay all of the various bills that need paying if I don't get at least a couple of more days this month? Maybe I should just quit this stupid business and get an office gig with a steady paycheck and scheduled breaks and vacation time and TPS reports and a nice cubicle where I can put up a little poster of a cat hanging from a tree limb. I'd be really good at water cooler chit chat. Ugghhh. Too bad those jobs are going the way of the dodo amidst this wonderful economic downturn that just happened to coincide with the end of the Bush Crime Family's tenure at the top.

Yoga, walk the dog, shoot some arrows, study Spanish, try not to freak out, and then Trader Joe's. What a day.



Peace out, bitches!

This is the stupidest tea party I've been to in all my life.

I blame the following for my brief foray into hallucinogens and assorted other good times. Thanks, Walt.

Peace out, bitches!

Why, the cheap ball-pushing swine, he'll never get away with it I tell you, he'll never get away with it.

It's Wednesday and I did nothing. Truly, I did nothing except a little yoga, dish washing, and TV zombification. I went out last night for a birthday party at the Lodge (I know, right?!)(Oh yeah, that last parenthetical thing-a-majig should be read in a full Valley girl accent) and even though I had decided not to drink this month I did. I did do that thing with the beers and whatnot and so I'm a little bit more of a dullard today than I'd normally be after four days off. No work in sight but on the plus side I don't have Ebola or Swine Flu or Tourettes. 

So I was thinking about life, the universe and everything and I came up with this:

Peace out, bitches!

Well then get in and paddle!

This has been one of those days that makes you want to stay inside and watch for invaders while cradling your favorite book and a large weapon. It didn't start out that way but goddammit if it didn't all go to hell as soon as I started dealing with other people. I ordered a replacement mag spring for Thumper (my .12 gauge that I've had since I was 14) and the woman on the other line was simply a joy to talk to. We made small talk, I got my part, I learned that she has a goofy Lab/Golden Retriever mix, and she loves hunting. Cool. I also got my parts for 10% because I gots game like that with the southern belles. What? Never mind me. The dog and I took a walk, I did some laundry out in the garage and discovered, joy!, I have a new project: fixing the pipes below the garage sink so that washing machine water doesn't flood the northern half of the remade Black Pearl. So far so good. I ate some awesome leftover Indian food. Yeah! Did a bunch of yoga. Sweet!

Then I made the mistake of leaving the house and as soon as I did I wanted to turn right around and go back inside and load the FNG with deer slugs. Yeah, five cop cars in full battle rattle came tear-assing through the neighborhood and posted up half a block north of me. Awesome. So loud, so wonderful, so fully a reminder to not get to complacent in the hood. Next up, bad driving from small guys in big SUVs who can't be bothered to use turn signals or look before they switch lanes. One guy actually flipped me off when he cut me off and missed the front of the Pumpkin by inches. Awesome! I love big city living! Everyone is so... sophisticated. Following this was the usual assortment of impatient, loud, stupid, and smelly interactions one so routinely has these days in The Big City. A man in line behind me lost his shit when, while I was getting checked out, the cashier scanned her co-workers Tampax box before getting to him. I mean, he started shouting!? I took one look at him and could tell instantly that he was a miserable person. He might have started off nice but the world had kicked his ass and popping off on cashiers was probably the only way this poor, impotent bastard could get through the day. I smiled, thanked the cashier, and gave him a look meant to convey "Geez, buddy, you look awful." He sneered at me and I laughed and walked out.

I'm going to shoot some arrows in my backyard and play fetch with my dog and pretend that I live some where populated by the polite, the civil, and the positive. Sounds lame, huh? Whatever, I just need to stay away from the nattering nabobs of negativity and go surfing. Or hunting. Of just go for a walk and get some tea. Hey, that's a great idea. Later for you!

Peace out, bitches!

No. No, man. Shit, no, man. I believe you'd get your ass kicked sayin' something like that, man.

So it's Monday and I'm finally feeling a bit better. Yeah, I did nothing today except wallow in self-pity and kick ass at Call of Duty 3 while wearing a cowboy hat and boardshorts. BUT, I think I've finally digested my ex-wife sticking me with an $850 lawyer bill because she can't talk to me without acting out. She's a sad person in many ways and I feel bad that she's unhappy with her life but that's her problem now, not mine. I need to bide my time, worry about myself and the woman who truly loves me and know in my bones that I've moved past her and all the pain. I'm no saint of course, but neither is she and that's being proved more right every day. It'll all end one day, of course, the payments will stop and the legal sword of Damocles will once again be sequestered. On that day I hope that my response is a simple and understated exhalation of the last breath of a life that I thought I had a handle on.  A life that I've always wanted and might now be on my way to having. We'll see, we'll see. For now I'm going to have to make due with working on letting it all truly slide. Everything that doesn't really matter shall slide and then I will one day be free.

Peace out, bitches!

I promise, that one day, everything's going to be better for you.

Yesterday I was at a graduation and all I took away from it is that life moves pretty fast. One day you're fucking around with your friends and the next thing you know you're making Internet payments on your alimony at 7am, scared shitless that your insane ex is going to freak out because the free money is a day late. Where does the time go? Where did the kid who was happy to get out of high school and do something cool go? I look in the mirror and I can sort of see him dicking around in my head, occasionally whispering crazy ideas straight into my cerebral cortex. Is he happy as he looks out through my older eyes? Does he like what he sees any more or less than I do? Are we still the same person, I wonder. Sometimes I can't recall what I was like at all before I got married and then divorced. I have ideas but they're more second hand accountants of the crazed deeds of someone much more interesting than I. Weird. I feel weird about all of it, or rather I was feeling weird about all of it but then I went surfing and felt like the old me all over again. I even went skating again and now my knees hurt. Bad time to stop drinking, bad time. I hope to find the old me one day and get him back in command of at least part of the ship. Not the galley, the young me couldn't cook to save our lives. Maybe I'll give him the art part of the whole cart. That would be nice, to be able to draw again and maybe shoot a good photo once in a roll. For now I'm going to keep listening to "Waltz of the Flowers" from the Nutcracker and go read some Pynchon because I'm still that fucking punk rock.

Peace out, bitches!

Afterward: I just got my Archery Deer Tag and I think that calls for a quick trip to Bass Pro Shop for some "scent proof" undies and socks. Operation Bowfinger is about to reach lethal stage. Lethal for what's left of my checking account.

I had to fight all my life to survive. They were all against me, but I beat the bastards and left them in the ditch.

This is a photo of me at work at my old junior high school. I helped shoot an entirely forgettable commercial for a Swedish department store and it was the first time I'd been there since I left in 19-fucking-86. Yeah, I'm that fucking old. The day I found out I was going back to Burroughs I got "friended" by a girl I went to junior high school with and college with. Weird. I also found out that my sis was teaching at a school who's principal went to junior high with me. LA is actually a very small town spread wide for no good reason. If you live here for a long-ass time you might become a local and have odd shit like this happen to you. Odds are you're ass out and you know what? Fuck you for trying. Move back to wherever you're from as we're at maximum occupancy here and you ain't helpin' much, holmes.

In other news, I'm done with the Lodge. I went tonight for the first time in ages and my "friends" proceeded to ride me all night for being a "foreigner." Dumb ass crackers, they could have at least had the balls to call me a nigger. At least they'd have been in the right ball park. In all honesty, I think I need to heed sister's advice and get back in touch with my art-fag side and you ain't gonna do that hanging out with a bunch of drunk idiots. Am I done with the spirits? Hell fucking no! Am I done hanging out with intellectual midgets? Yep. Make fun of me if you want, I don't care, I'm still done chilling with dullards. Except the guys what hire me.

Peace out, bitches!