June 9, 2011

No Complaints.

March 18, 2010

There is light in the evening again. It is getting warmer. And suddenly, I’m motivated to be as active as my body will allow. This means that I’ll be spending whatever hours I can find outside on my bike; the mornings aren’t so cold anymore, and the evening is just fine. “Spring ahead” is like a tax refund for time, an I always love it.

Aside from the clocks around me, there are some other changes happening for me, and they are positive as well. Just as with “spring ahead,” however, there’s always an individual who sees it the other way.  And just the same, I won’t feel like I’m missing out on an hour of sleep…

A few days ago I saw a woman who looked like she was wasting away, your typical crazy lady with an eating disorder; she had to have been at least 25 pounds underweight. I felt very strange while selling her a pair of running shoes– wondering to myself why in the hell she could possibly feel like she needs to run.  She was friendly and engaging, but withholding and indecisive– which seemed common, presuming she had an eating disorder. And then she suddenly she informed me that she lost her husband six months prior in a car wreck. She went on to explain that he left four independent businesses to her, and that operating them has been overwhelming. She also informed me of a particularly cruel type of identity theft to which she’d fallen victim wherein the thieves also tormented her. This woman just wanted her old life back, and she will never have it again.  Why is she buying running shoes? I guess it seems like the simplest escape option.

Before I was even able to redraft this entry, a close friend of mine was hit by a car.  He suffered some injury, and his bicycle was damaged.  When talking about a vehicle/bicycle collision, that’s about as good as it gets, and it can always be worse.

I’m not old, but I’ve been around long enough to know that bad things can certainly come in waves; I also know that there’s another side to those waves that can be impossible to see when you’re trapped.

Cross your bridges carefully, and don’t burn them.

High Coos.

February 14, 2010

Shit weather this week.

Steady lethargic progress.

Forfeit waiting games.

Seven Eleven.

Iconic perseverance.

Forfeit waiting games.

The Pirate’s record.

In 1997.

Iconic bad luck.

Il Pirata

It’s infinity.

It’s infinite regression.

Simian revolt.

Video Post

February 5, 2010



Mind Games 

I Love This Band 

Death Cult 


Nice Nice Nice video effects

Worth Watching

Set Me Free  

Small Faces

Positive Touch

Done With It.

December 21, 2009

It’s a little ways into January now, and I’ve had some time to reflect on the holidays and what they look like to me. Starting on the day after Thanksgiving (or “Black Friday” to all you shoppers out there) a syringe with a 6″ needle is stabbed into each of my ears, and then a steady stream of holiday music is pumped into my head on a daily basis until black blood comes out of my nose, eyes, and mouth. For the eighth December in a row I am working in a retail environment where this is an acceptable thing. It’s safe to say that I hate Christmas. Some people in the world have a hard time understanding how anybody could hate the holidays; I have a hard time understanding what makes any person above the age of twelve excited about them, and here’s a few of my reasons.

Egg nog. I am repulsed that I enjoyed it as a kid.

Christmas lights. There might be a better way to express your holiday cheer, but I’m pretty sure the best way to do it is to call attention to yourself by wasting electricity. It’s really painful for me to look at a group of trees that have been covered in tiny light bulbs and hear the question “Isn’t that so pretty?” because it’s not. The tree was pretty before it was covered in light bulbs, and the light bulbs make it offensive– no matter what color they are.

Various smells. Cinnamon and cloves can be purchased at any time of the year, so why do people seem to only know about them every December?

Family disagreements. Family and friends are the ONLY thing I value about the “holidays”, and it really bugs the shit out of me when adults can’t look past their sometimes enormous differences, and sit down together on a nice warm piece of common ground and be thankful that they have one another.

Celebrating His, The Savior’s birthday. That’s is factually incorrect. If you actually believe that Jesus was a prophet, then maybe you should celebrate his birthday in March when it happened, OR you should just go back to worshiping the sun, and the planets, and the weather like the people before who were exterminated, whose sacred edifices were demolished, and whose literature was destroyed by Christians.  Those who were left alive and needed to be converted had four decent Christian holidays which conveniently coincided with the ones they would have rather celebrated in the first place.

Christmas trees. That one is also pagan, guys.  Christians are just dumb enough to follow after Martin Luther who was dumb enough to cut down a tree that had a magical glow that he thought would just look so cute inside his house, the rest… well…

Christmas music. This needs to be stopped. Why can’t some privileged celebrity make it his/her cause to stop recording and proliferating Christmas music. I would wear the fuck out of some cause bracelets for that shit. People would be like, “What’s your cause bracelet for?”, and I’d be like “I’m raising awareness for the quit-fucking-recording-songs-about-snow-and-santa-and-bells-and-sleighrides campaign.” If you’ve ever worked in a place that plays Christmas music, you’ve probably noticed that there’s only about ten to fifteen Christmas songs, and about ten to fifteen different artists’ versions of each of those songs. That’s not to say that there aren’t some holiday one-offs out there. Take THIS little gem, for example. For years I thought that song was by The Dixie Chicks, but it’s The Wilson Sisters– neither one would have been better than the other. If you’ve made it this far into this entry I want you to do me a favor; watch that entire video. Please. Now I want you to understand that I’ve heard that song two to four times per shift worked for eight years of holidays. That puts the number of times I’ve listened to that song somewhere between 360 and 630– and every single one of those times that I heard it I fucking hated it. A few years ago I had a very unique thing happen to me; I was working at Whole Foods, and I was asked to cover an extra shift on a day in December. I heard that Wilson Sisters song at least three times, but I think I heard it a fourth time, and when that fucking saxaphone solo slid in for the last time that day I lost it. I felt my spirit break, and I felt my will being crushed. I wanted to sit on the floor and cry, but instead I just stuck my arm into the shelf of tea I had very neatly stocked, and emptied that shelf onto the ground, because it gave me something to focus on. Maybe you’re thinking that it can’t really be that bad, but I guarantee you it IS. The best analogy I have for it would be that you’re like a pig standing in shit all day, but you know you’re somehow aware that you’re a pig, and you just want to go some place clean.

The day after Christmas is like being released from a straightjacket, but still being in the asylum. You don’t have to hear Christmas music anymore for eleven months, but nurse Ratchet is gonna play a little tune for you, and it’s gonna be Duran Duran’s “Come Undone”, and even though you hated that song at least fifteen years ago when it was new and it was on MTV every other song, and it was on the audio system all day every time you went to Astroworld that summer, and some of your friends liked it, but you stopped hanging out with them because it bothered you so much that they liked it,  it’ll be your new favorite song.

Well, anyways. It’s a new year now and a new decade, so do with that as you will and just be thankful that it’s all over with for another year.