Love Stinks

Press the button. Make the call. Send the e-mail. Write the letter. Send the text. Save the pictures. Smell the clothes. Feel the warmth, the cold. Forget it. Never forget. Let it go. Try again.

Loving someone that's lost can be a truly awesome experience, but not in the sense of how that word is misused these days. The transcendent power of the chase, of conquest, of loss, whether by choice, luck or misadventure, has no peer. Every emotion is wrung up and tasted like bile. No paranoid corner dark with anxiety is revealed to be less than knowing. And still, the mind seeks and hopes, forlorn and withering against the truth of it.

So much worse when the chemistry is undeniable. That was it - the singularity of oneness collapsed into a black hole of separation. The laws of the universe prevent the rejoining of what man hath put asunder.

But wait: there's more!

If there's a will, there's a way. A stitch in time saves nine. A penny saved is a penny earned. Oh, who is today's fool? Lover, come back to me? Fat chance.

Too many words, too much lost time, too much hurt - all are expedient excuses when the potentials are there to be exercised. It boils down to a decision that it's just too much damned work, too many damned compromises and, by the way, the grass is looking a damn sight greener on the other side of the fence. Today. Right now. Why wait?

Live, love, laugh.

Yeah, whatev.

The adult thing is to let it go, admit the mistake, decide to move forward, decline defeat, embrace the future.

Yeah, whatev. Again. As if. As if the face could escape memory. As if that memory would simply fizzle away in sparkly confetti, reassembly denied by nature. As if the sound of your voice, your bell-like laugh, your ruddy cough, your breathing, heavy and deep with sleep could find its way into those dark corners where demons wait and snuff out your absence. As if.

No walk alone is without you. No meal without a thought of your provision. No feeling without the sense of a ghostly touch from you. No wind without your scent.

There can't be a goodbye. Apparently, it's not allowed. Yet, the die is cast. Shut up!

Lighten Up, Will Ya?

A little humour to brighten your day:

Two cannibals are eating a clown.
One says to the other: "Does this taste funny to you?"
______________
Man with a strawberry stuck up his bum goes to the doctor.
The Doctor says "I'll give you some cream to put on it."
______________
"Doc, I can't stop singing 'The green, green grass of home'."
"That sounds like Tom Jones syndrome."
"Is it common?"
"Well……..It's not unusual………"
______________
A guy walks into the psychiatrist wearing only cling film for shorts.
The shrink says, "Well, I can clearly see you're nuts."
______________
Two hydrogen atoms walk into a bar.
One says, "I think I've lost an electron."
The other says, "Are you sure?"
The first replies, "Yes, I'm positive."
______________
Answer phone message:
"If you want to buy marijuana, press the hash key…"
______________
A man takes his Rottweiler to the vet and says, "My dog's cross-eyed, is there anything you can do for him?"
"Well," says the vet, "let's have a look at him." So, he picks the dog up and examines his eyes, then checks his teeth. Finally, he says "I'm going to have to put him down."
"What? Because he's cross-eyed?"
"No, because he's really heavy."
______________
Apparently, 1 in 5 people in the world are Chinese.
And there are 5 people in my family, so it must be one of them.
It's either my mum or my dad.
Or my older brother Colin.
Or my younger brother Ho-Cha-Chu.
But I think it's Colin.
______________
I went to buy some camouflage trousers the other day but I couldn't find any.
______________
My friend drowned in a bowl of muesli. He was pulled in by a strong currant.
______________
A man came round in hospital after a serious accident.
He shouted,"Doctor, doctor, I can't feel my legs!"
The doctor replied,"I know you can't. I had to amputate your arms"
______________
I went to a really energetic "Seafood Disco" last week and pulled a mussel.
______________
Two Eskimos sitting in a kayak were chilly, but when they lit a fire in the craft, it sank, proving once and for all that you can't have your kayak and heat it too.
______________
A man walks into doctor's office.
"What seems to be the problem?" asks the doc.
"It's … um … well … I have five penises," replies the man.
"Blimey!" says the doctor, "How do your trousers fit?"
"Like a glove."

Logs

"Lair" is a blog that exists to express random thoughts and often, things that Lincoln would have put in his desk overnight only to be ripped up in the morning. Lincoln was a smart man. I'm not Lincoln.

Schweinekoteletts

God, am I stupid. I'm probably the stupidist person I know. I'm just so unforgivably stupid. Really, really stupid. Stoopid stupid. And just plain dumb.

What the hell was I thinking? What? Why do I hatch these plans and convince myself that they really should work, that these gargantuan scenarios which I love so well are the best compromise between what I should be doing and what I want to do? What screw is missing in my mousetrap of a brain that causes to be missing the critical cog that should easily direct me to an actually fruitful conclusion? Huh? I want to know?

Here is where I am.

Here is where I should have wound up. But no, not me. Gad. So stuuuuuuuuuuupid.

And yet, I still have hope. Hope that it will come out all fine. Hope that my more rational mind tells me is an extension of the delusion that had me put myself on this path in the first place.

Unfortunately, it doesn't take much to snap me back to reality. A few recollections thrown into the mix of my already overheated and constantly recycling mind, the resulting plunge into a depression on the realization of the foregoing which, in turn, solidifies my belief that the klaxons in my head screaming "WRONG! WRONG! WRONG!" are tuned to just the right frequency to capture my full attention.

Not being alone in this experience DOES NOT make it better. Either side of the good or evil teeter-totter that seems to be applicable to any decision and choice I've made absolutely sucks. And I mean that I'm not in this alone since thousands of years of poetry, prose and song support that particular observation.

And do you know why I'm in this tizzy? Maybe you or you don't, but you do and that f•cking pisses me off all the more, at myself, of course. Oh, well. F•ck me, I guess. Stupid.

The problem is that I got just what I wished for - a date with the cruelest mistress of them all: fate. Please, Mistress, command me to do your bidding though I am unworthy. I beg your forgiveness for my snivelling nature. Please forgive me for anything I might do to displease you now or at some point in the future, no matter how unreasonable your expectations may be. Please grab my party bits and slam them flat with the latest Oxford Dictionary of the English Language.

In return, I will spank you until your bottom turns the color or the great flag of the People's Republic of China.

No? That won't do it? Screw you, then. I have free will, you know. "Will he?" they whisper, collectively wondering how far he could go. Free will. Free Willy!

Dangle, dangle, strangle: I had thought this the modus operandus of a variety of female types I had encountered over the course of time, but I was wrong to limit this concise observation and will now include ALL humans. And yes, it would be convenient to blame the rest of the world for my apparent lack of open-minded scenario-building, but I can't, simply can't. I note this only because I now realize that I was absent that day where the politics of dealing with human beings and learning to go with the flow of same was taught.

Destiny has a funny way of not always being all that random. I am a planner and I hate that which could be attributed to fate, karma or some other thing unseen that corrupts the plans of men. It makes me think of Tulsa and how bad things were there and how bad they probably still are and then, some hidden prose rises like a bad meal of boiled steak and beans and I read this, from a time far away and a place long ago:

You ever see a bird.
And you're like, this bird is mine.
So, you say to yourself: "This is mine. I own this." The map and the intention mesh. You feel kind of smug.
So, you see a girl a grrlllllllllllllll, tits and EVERYTHING.
And the seeds of desire are sown, because they're seeds and that's what we do with seeds, sow.
The next thing you know, she's telling you about the boyfriend, but you've seen her pupils dilate, and before the night's over, you're covered in mosquito bites and her sweat and spit and she smells like hope.
But that never happened because you're not stupid enough to try to smash a clam. No, who wants clam shards in their mollusk? Otters. Gulls. A two item list. But, you've got your ears open. Words and confidences fan out like. Reinforcing signals emerge, lapping against the edges of your GOLDEN BOWL OF LUST.

"Hi!" You squeak.
"Would you like a cigarette?" she asks. But you haven't smoked in months. She reminds you of a shady lane. So you take two cigarettes worth of drags, and it's all you can do not to blow on her pooch whenever she lifts her arms.
You lean over and smell her and nothing, bills, personal oblivion, dissatisfaction with your career, any kind of setback in the past, even murder, rape, cowardice, betrayal, whatever, it doesn't matter, anxiety melts away.

She tastes like pot but those eyes are anything but distant.
Black eyes. Like a doll's eyes.

And you come to the conclusion that after all this pursuit, all this sex, and need and hunger, that you've reached an endpoint, you've finally jumped a shark.

"Where you from?"
"Indianapolis."
"Are you expected back?"
"Later or never."
"Where you headed, baby?"
"The bottom of the sea."

Yes - I have to dredge up every emotion, every experience, every conclusion, every hope, fear and regret and I have to set them all out like a sorrowful buffet and sort them out once and for all, this time, with no endpoint in mind. And make some new choices, I think, including accepting the possibility that I won't make any choice at all. On the other hand, status quo is pretty boring. I don't do boring.

Blow the dust off your crystal ball and shine it up, will ya? Where thou goest, I shall follow. Oh, geesh, now I have to think something up. It never ends. Never. Not ever.

What Are You? Deaf?

I just saw Andrea Bocelli in concert and I don't know why. It was in Las Vegas, was all drippy with Spanish and Italian love songs and was topped off with guys holding torches that jumped into the fake canal at the casino where the concert was held, all finally decorated with fireworks a la Seaworld. Somebody's idea of a good time, I suppose.

Aphorism

The very best thing about having your back constantly up against the wall is what it can do for your posture.

If I Was Not Me And This Was My First Go At A Blog

Here we are broadcasting from high atop Mount Palomar, which is home to the once-famous Mount Palomar Observatory, located in the beautiful San Bernadino mountains. This is obviously a great place for a telescope since there are more stars here than anywhere else!

You know, I was thinking about doing the MySpace thing, but I changed my mind. Everybody's doing it. "Do you have a MySpace page? Do you? Do you?" No, I don't freakin' got one. Why should I be like every other loser on the planet, right?

So, I'm starting out on this blog thing and I'm saying to myself, what do I have to say? The first thing I come up with is "um, um, um" and so, that's the title of this blog. I call it a blog thing because I hope it will be something more than just words, like pictures and videos and stuffs. I have a german friends that calls stuff "stuffs." I correct him, but you know foreigners aren't too smart, that's why they can't speak English good.

Anyhow, I work like everybody else but I'm looking for the Next Big Thing. I don't know what that is yet but that's good because if I knew what it was then everybody would too and then it wouldn't me the next big thing. Right? Right? So, like, I'm looking for opportunities that I can exploit, which means that I can make work for me with luck and hard work. I can't work on the gluing machine at the box factory forever even though I probably will make supervisor next year when Gus (Fussy Gus) throws in the towel and finally retires. Or dies.

In the meantime, I'm looking for a special lady. You know, someone who can be there, can cook good, likes to go out, wants to take care of my kids, or I mean, our kids and stuff. She's gotta work too until I hit on that next big thing I was talking about before, but it'll be alright.

Right now, I have a pretty okay job, my brother's still in Iraq and when he comes out, maybe we'll open a detailing shop together. He might stay in, though. We didn't have the chance to talk much since he joined up, He wanted to get away from being a kid brother, I guess and now he's a big man, a soldier and all that. You gotta respect him for making a big step with his life. But we both graduate from high school though I have to admit that he's smarter than me, but I'm better with the girls! Sometimes I wonder if he's maybe a fag, but I don't think so. Anyway, my Father would never talk to him and my mother's heart would be broken into little pieces, like she says, 'cause then he wouldn't have grandkids. But I could make up for that!

So, I could see that happen. Me running the business and him working the customers and running the crew, He would have experince, right? Being that he was a sarge and all. So, that would work out pretty good. But I don't know. He got a lot of money for college from the Army so I guess that's what he might do. Then he might be running the business and I'll work my charms on the customers! We could sell rims, too and stereo installation. Who knows how far we could go? But, by myself, I don't know. It would be too hard with a new wife and kids. We'll see.

In the meantime, there's a girl I like but she's way older than me. She's Latina, which is bangin, and she's got older kids, like in their twenties and whatnot. But she is so bangin, it's sick. She is like a Latina princess. And I know she works next door cause I see her come in around lunch time and she leaves way after I quit work. I know cause sometimes I waited for her. Sometimes I could see her through the factory windows, too, when she parks at the end of the lot, and she's just sittin in her car and I think she's crying. She just looks like she's shaking and sobbing. I wish I could go out to her and comfort her, but I know I would scare her and maybe she would think I'm a stalker or something, I don't know.

But she has long black hair, huge bazongas (I don't think I can say "rack" or "tits" here) and some sweet thighs that I'd just like to sink my teeths into. Jesus, she is too much. And a guy like me? At my age? Oh, you know I could keep her satisfied and stop her crying. You just know it. But she's pretty old and that's okay, cause I know she must like movies and dancing and stuffs. I think one day soon I'm gonna ask her out or at least let her know I'm available, then she can make the right choice, know what I mean?

Anyhow, I'm gonna cut this short since this is my first time and all. My boss is a woman and she is a bitch on wheels. She's not mean but I swear she's into S&M cause she will torture you until the product ships. Her name's Carla, but all the guys on the floor call her Carl cause she might as well be a man. She's my mom's age, but sometimes she dresses a little slutty, which is not respectable for a woman, okay? Yeah, she looks okay, but with a woman like that you gotta be careful that she not gonna break your dick off in the process. So, she wants everybody in early tomorrow even though it's the day before Thanksgiving and who wants to work anyhow? So, I better not be late or she's gonna hook my nipples up to the forklift charger. She probably like it, too. ;)

I'm gonna try to tell my story like you're ready a diary, so when stuff happens or occurs to me, that's when I'm gonna fill this up. Probably, it'll be pretty good stuff to read, I don't know. Okay! Chow for Now as they say in Italy!