nothing really new. kinda boring holiday season so far with new years looking like the reg. going to b&n in a little after i caffenate myself sober to get infinite jest (i know that i'm late on that one) and maybe find some clothes or something on sale (gotta be a good consumer and stimulate the economy...just think, if britney spears can make a comeback, so can the economy!). oh, got m. netflix and i'm already using it more than her, which leads me to believe that i really do buy presents for myself, disguised as a gift for somebody else...well, the assassination of jesse james by the coward robert ford should ship tomorrow and i'm pretty sure she wanted to see that too.
yeah, so....that's all folks.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
you're no longer tied into your body
i don't mind. strings find their way into my knot.
ooo.
you're this kind of beautiful,
you find your way past your scars into the sink.
well if we could diagnose or dispose
you would find yourself with your dog in the trash.
the skyline melts with me
and the waves crash into the
i don't fucking mind.
ooo.
but if you come up sometime to reach some air
send me a message to fall from up in the air.
oh, i sent you a note, it's in your mail BOX propped against a cd with my bad robin williams impersonations.
ooo.
you're this kind of beautiful,
you find your way past your scars into the sink.
well if we could diagnose or dispose
you would find yourself with your dog in the trash.
the skyline melts with me
and the waves crash into the
i don't fucking mind.
ooo.
but if you come up sometime to reach some air
send me a message to fall from up in the air.
oh, i sent you a note, it's in your mail BOX propped against a cd with my bad robin williams impersonations.
christmas shopping
being a serial procrastinator has it's drawbacks. sure, i love the time i waste between now and when something is due (christmas presents on christmas) but so does everybody else. i just don't like being like every other cattle lead to the slaughter (cash register) en masse and being a last minute fuck, there i will be tomorrow, fighting for last sweaters (for my mother) and the last of the 'best deal, lowest price guaranteed' external hard drives (for pops).
well, at least i'm learning, i still have a week before the fat man in the red suit puzzles his fat self through the maze of my heating duct system (no fireplace, but i bought butter in bulk at bj's wholesale club to grease the ducts. i knew that member card would come in handy to preserve christmas joy. i also laid out cookies next to vent. no milk though, warm milk would make santa sleepy and i would be scared shitless if i awoke to a fat bearded stranger in a red get-up next to me on my futon, stealing the sheets so un-house-guest-like).
well cross your fingers for me so i won't get shot or trampled tomorrow or god forbid, a seeing eye dog maul me for grabbing the last copy of daredevil -for someone i hate- though i've never heard of that one happening, but there's always a first time.
well, at least i'm learning, i still have a week before the fat man in the red suit puzzles his fat self through the maze of my heating duct system (no fireplace, but i bought butter in bulk at bj's wholesale club to grease the ducts. i knew that member card would come in handy to preserve christmas joy. i also laid out cookies next to vent. no milk though, warm milk would make santa sleepy and i would be scared shitless if i awoke to a fat bearded stranger in a red get-up next to me on my futon, stealing the sheets so un-house-guest-like).
well cross your fingers for me so i won't get shot or trampled tomorrow or god forbid, a seeing eye dog maul me for grabbing the last copy of daredevil -for someone i hate- though i've never heard of that one happening, but there's always a first time.
her room is fantastically cluttered (fantastically cluttered is the best)
there was this girl, i loved her like a paper cup. her skin was dyed into her body, then she let go. i don't mind. what goes in the stream of this, i haven't got no skin. it's tied to the Montana mountain in the evening time. but i don't mind, or what goes goes on. will i find your skin scraped out, carving letters throughout the thermals in the air, leaving tendrils of light like lightning, flaring up in the atomic spaces between your pointer and fuck off fingers? but to you, love goes in 'an oh what the oh what the oh what the...' we saw the sky go 'what the,' the accidental constellation innocence in the small train substations. how you love to go into the small spaces. most of us find temples to take the time that we lost or build houses to farm out our thoughts, but the rain swallows the humming birds that steal away the motions and subsequently, i can see people who run marathons instead of taking blame. millions of petals fall, breaking the surface tension of rain water. the geese fly low and dislocates us and how it steals the water and our spirit leaks into the ocean. don't worry about the watering, she swam toward the spooking in the rich folks neighborhood and was gifted in overcoming, scared of being discarded.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
couple weeks before christmas
this morning i forewent a 'brunch' with my girlfriend (who in this blog, we will call m.), which created a prodigious hissy fit (sorry, i don't know if anyone else uses that term anymore, so if you don't, insert dummy spit or strop in place of hissy fit) which resulted in an impromptu train ride to philadelphia for a few 'what the fucks' over overpriced beers, otherwise known in the winter season to me as watching football. i found out last season that whenever we had a row (or hissy fit, dummy spit, or a strop) i would unwind the best by yelling at a television screen at rich adults playing a kids game while getting blitzed (drunk, not chased after by 250 lbs+ men) and have continued to use this as a quasi-crutch to hobble myself away from tiff (see above for replacements) after another with m. it's just a coincidence that i took a train into the city last year and ended up (in this blog i will call the bar q. not because i don't want the bar to get some publicity, but the total opposite, i don't want to sully it's name or patrons through inaccurate bad publicity) in center city and have been going ever since.
not a hole in the wall, nor a taproom with suits and ties (though i have seen a regular sporting a tuxedo print tee once), nor is it either a room full of jacked up, testosterone junkies with their hands scratching nuts, chucking chicken wing bones or slamming beer mugs or fists on the counter tops along with expletives every time the eagles (my team, in my fair city) fumble or a receiver drop a pass. it isn't the cleanest bar and if you do drop your food on the floor, there is no five second rule (but as a rule of thumb, the five second rule should disappear once you step out of your house/apartment/parents basement, but you don't have to listen to me...) or waitress that sweeps the cigarette butts up when the accumulate beneath your feet. it's a 'put 'em out wherever but don't fucking burn the place down,' kinda place. now, this place isn't a slop house either, it is probably cleaner than where you live and has better looking people too...well, maybe not, but the people are nice and if you don't mind the smoke, you grow used to the relative uncleanliness.
it's got your stock amenities, urinals and bar stools (in different rooms respectively), toilets for the ladies, pukies, and poopies (i know, but it kinda rolled off my tongue), a dozen or so booths that line either sidewall of the bar, a plasma screen mounted in each corner, one or two bartenders, with an eager bar back waiting expectantly (sometimes unexpectedly) with towels or stack of sullied beer mugs, ashtrays, a chalkboard with beer listings (but no prices;don't worry, they're overpriced) and dim lighting because we drinkers need to keep the light out so if we are drinking before twelve (or while the sun is still up) we feel that we are falling into social norms and when the sun does go down we don't really need to discern facial imperfections between each other by turning up the dimmed lights (remember when i said that the patrons are probably better looking than whoever occupies your residence?).
it's a place to unwind, to escape, to pretend like you're just one of the guys (or gals). i can't explain the atmosphere poetically, i can just give you the feel of the place. i'm sorry, i'm sure that poetics would make the place seem something more tangible. i wish that it could be someplace with a definite meaning that in which i could convey. it's not. it is just a bar filled with people that want relief from the nine to five, having weekends off and then hitting the streets early monday morning to repeat again and again throughout the year. the people there have their expectancies, but are usually disappointed, with a world view that is a little pale and jaded (that doesn't make any sense, literally, but it makes sense to me and that's what counts, right?). they, like me (and most importantly, they like me), want the world outside the doors of q. to be silent until they want of conversation that is beyond their bar stool mate's comprehension (that not being intended to express that their bar stool mate is not able to understand). it's beautiful. it's dirty. it's where politics and religion never have their say. it's the when between m. and i. it's...well, my kind of place.
so, you know the landscape now of the bar i frequent. wow, it feels nice to just to put it out there. i'm sure that you have favourite haunt. a place where you go to forget your 'have a cow's' with your respective others. where you can drink overpriced alcohol (i drink bass ale and chase each bottle with jameson, about 8 dollars, if ya wanted to know) and commiserate about the sorry state of your local football team's affairs. maybe you call your haunt a pub (i.e., public house), or your 'dive' (i.e., dive bar). you all have one, but if you don't, hop a train after your next fight (there, i said it, fight) with your 'love you always, but hate you sometimes', and get angry at something else, be it a sporting event or any event...you'll thank me later.
p.s. i can't wait for the baseball season.
not a hole in the wall, nor a taproom with suits and ties (though i have seen a regular sporting a tuxedo print tee once), nor is it either a room full of jacked up, testosterone junkies with their hands scratching nuts, chucking chicken wing bones or slamming beer mugs or fists on the counter tops along with expletives every time the eagles (my team, in my fair city) fumble or a receiver drop a pass. it isn't the cleanest bar and if you do drop your food on the floor, there is no five second rule (but as a rule of thumb, the five second rule should disappear once you step out of your house/apartment/parents basement, but you don't have to listen to me...) or waitress that sweeps the cigarette butts up when the accumulate beneath your feet. it's a 'put 'em out wherever but don't fucking burn the place down,' kinda place. now, this place isn't a slop house either, it is probably cleaner than where you live and has better looking people too...well, maybe not, but the people are nice and if you don't mind the smoke, you grow used to the relative uncleanliness.
it's got your stock amenities, urinals and bar stools (in different rooms respectively), toilets for the ladies, pukies, and poopies (i know, but it kinda rolled off my tongue), a dozen or so booths that line either sidewall of the bar, a plasma screen mounted in each corner, one or two bartenders, with an eager bar back waiting expectantly (sometimes unexpectedly) with towels or stack of sullied beer mugs, ashtrays, a chalkboard with beer listings (but no prices;don't worry, they're overpriced) and dim lighting because we drinkers need to keep the light out so if we are drinking before twelve (or while the sun is still up) we feel that we are falling into social norms and when the sun does go down we don't really need to discern facial imperfections between each other by turning up the dimmed lights (remember when i said that the patrons are probably better looking than whoever occupies your residence?).
it's a place to unwind, to escape, to pretend like you're just one of the guys (or gals). i can't explain the atmosphere poetically, i can just give you the feel of the place. i'm sorry, i'm sure that poetics would make the place seem something more tangible. i wish that it could be someplace with a definite meaning that in which i could convey. it's not. it is just a bar filled with people that want relief from the nine to five, having weekends off and then hitting the streets early monday morning to repeat again and again throughout the year. the people there have their expectancies, but are usually disappointed, with a world view that is a little pale and jaded (that doesn't make any sense, literally, but it makes sense to me and that's what counts, right?). they, like me (and most importantly, they like me), want the world outside the doors of q. to be silent until they want of conversation that is beyond their bar stool mate's comprehension (that not being intended to express that their bar stool mate is not able to understand). it's beautiful. it's dirty. it's where politics and religion never have their say. it's the when between m. and i. it's...well, my kind of place.
so, you know the landscape now of the bar i frequent. wow, it feels nice to just to put it out there. i'm sure that you have favourite haunt. a place where you go to forget your 'have a cow's' with your respective others. where you can drink overpriced alcohol (i drink bass ale and chase each bottle with jameson, about 8 dollars, if ya wanted to know) and commiserate about the sorry state of your local football team's affairs. maybe you call your haunt a pub (i.e., public house), or your 'dive' (i.e., dive bar). you all have one, but if you don't, hop a train after your next fight (there, i said it, fight) with your 'love you always, but hate you sometimes', and get angry at something else, be it a sporting event or any event...you'll thank me later.
p.s. i can't wait for the baseball season.
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