The very first time I went to see Incubus in concert was at Lullapalooza back in 2003.
That show was crap.
There were about 10 different bands playin' throughout the day. I remember a lot of the lyrics being distorted 'cause the mics were too loud or lots of feedback.
The bands that played seemed very apathetic about bein' there. They played their sets and got off stage. If you ask me, when people pay to go to your concerts they pay for more than music. If music is all I wanted I'd buy the albums and stay home listenin' to 'em.
The Incubus concert this time around was an amazing night.
As always I was runnin' late and had to grab sumthin' to eat on the way to the concert. So I was speedin' down the freeway with a burger in one hand and a steerin' wheel in the other and a vortex out the window.
I had my eyes on the road and couldn't really look to see this "vortex". (By the way, i don't think that's a very descriptive word, prolly 'cause I don't know exactly what it means.) I'm all about sci-fi. I hear "vortex" and I'm thinkin' gateway into parallel realities and time travel.
The sky was lookin' all like it was bringin' our impending doom but I saw no "vortex". (Again, I could've been lookin' right at it and never known.) Cars weren't bein' sucked up into Dimension X or anything. (I never get to see anythin' cool like that) Even with the aliens ready to invade and the world about to end we made it to the concert just fine. Like Red had said "We are the Chosen Ones" so yeah we survived, it's what Chosen ones do you know.
However, I found out as we got up to the front gate that the "vortex" in question could also be described more acurately as a "funnel cloud".(That describes it perfectly, it is indeed a funnel shaped cloud, it is also an indictator of a tornado.) So, the world wasn't doomed, just the concert.
They closed the gates to the outdoor theatre and decided with bad weather on the way it'd be safer for everyone to go home. Of course, there were a good 500 people that knew better. I heard shouts "Fuck a tornado!" and "This is Texas!". In Texas there's a sayin', "If you don't like the weather, wait ten minutes". The storm blew over and everyone came out of their hidin' holes and my friends and I were allowed in finally.
We got our spot, our eight dollar beers (I know right? and mine was empty when I got the damned thing anyway), and listened to the opening act (whoever they were they were awesome, but unknown to me). We met some guys from UT that seemed nice enough. They had these things called "Pocket Shots" (shots of whiskey packaged in plastic bags) which made one of the girls a little sick. The guys seemed to be tryin to take care of her. I kept an eye out for her 'cause my daddy always says to be aware of your surroundings. They didn't try anything and really seemed like genuinely nice guys.
One of 'em introduced himself to me a bit late. He was a brown skinned fella i'd guess was Samoan and about my size. He seemed nice and was jokin' with the other guys.
I forgot about him once Incubus started up and the music was goin'. The music was amazing. Boyd had his shirt off (cue for the girls to commence screamin' and gigglin' as y'all do). As the show went on it seemed that this guy kept creepin' his way up to get a better view.
A better view of my ass.
I turned around as I felt his hot breath on the back of my neck and he was right on my heels and his hands on my hips. I believe he may have had an intention of gettin' a lil friendly with my backside. Sorry, Nancy, but I'm a backdoor virgin for Christ. (In case you can't tell I'm joking bout this stuff. He was just oddly close to me and at no time did I actually feel my anus was in any peril. Nor do I encourage any actual rape stereotypes among the gay or Samoan communities.)
At any rate the concert was fun and muddy. The music was amazing. The friends I went with were among the best in existence. The beer was expensive and that guy creeped me out but it was still fun.
By the way, this is from wikipedia:
"A vortex (plural: vortices) is a spinning, often turbulent, flow of fluid. Any spiral motion with closed streamlines is vortex flow. The motion of the fluid swirling rapidly around a center is called a vortex. The speed and rate of rotation of the fluid are greatest at the center, and decrease progressively with distance from the center."
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Monday, August 24, 2009
I'm a legitimite writer. For real. Part II (The Revenge)
Did you like the last thing? Hope you did. This is some of my other writing. This boys and girls is called poetry. I never studied poetry really. I don't know much about it other than I like the way a poem reads or sounds. I feel like I'm terrible at poetry despite the fact that I have people tellin' me I'm pretty good at it. So read this. Again, I hope you enjoy.
Street corner strummer, play your song of freedom
Lovely You
Embrace me dear
Show me no fear
Release yourself to me
Fly from restraint; be free
Come to me and enter my heart
Join this dance our bodies make art
Love every inch of me
Show what I long to see
Lovely tangle of silk and skin
I’ll love you again and again
Over and over with only you
I don’t know love but I have a clue
It’s in the taste of your lips
And the rhythm of your hips
Please tease me with your curves
Excite me with your words
Love is in our eyesYou’re more than my prize
Embrace me dear
Show me no fear
Release yourself to me
Fly from restraint; be free
Come to me and enter my heart
Join this dance our bodies make art
Love every inch of me
Show what I long to see
Lovely tangle of silk and skin
I’ll love you again and again
Over and over with only you
I don’t know love but I have a clue
It’s in the taste of your lips
And the rhythm of your hips
Please tease me with your curves
Excite me with your words
Love is in our eyesYou’re more than my prize
Nothing Gonna Stop Me
Nothing gonna stop me, Never gonna die
I will keep on fighting, Always gonna try
Listen to my lyrics, Never hear a lie
Greatest of all my strengths: Never ending fight
When things look their roughest, I will be my best
I am never slacking, I will pass that test
Plenty of work to do, I will get it done
Can’t be too hard for me, I’m my father’s son
There is no quit in me, Don’t know how to break
Always be here for you, I’ll give if you’ll take
Nothing gonna stop me, Never gonna die
I am strong as you need, Go ahead and cry
I will never falter, Ever vigil eye
Help as much as I can, I do what is right
Never settle for less, Always work for more
Never better than you, It’s you I work for
I have no time for lies, I want only truth
I will defend you all, I will stand with you
Purpose in my life: To help all I can
Always aiming to be a true righteous man
Nothing gonna stop us, Never gonna die
To make this life better, We must always try
We must seek perfection, Never can we lie
Live life generously, Respect every life
Nothing gonna stop me, Never gonna die
I will keep on fighting, Always gonna try
Listen to my lyrics, Never hear a lie
Greatest of all my strengths: Never ending fight
When things look their roughest, I will be my best
I am never slacking, I will pass that test
Plenty of work to do, I will get it done
Can’t be too hard for me, I’m my father’s son
There is no quit in me, Don’t know how to break
Always be here for you, I’ll give if you’ll take
Nothing gonna stop me, Never gonna die
I am strong as you need, Go ahead and cry
I will never falter, Ever vigil eye
Help as much as I can, I do what is right
Never settle for less, Always work for more
Never better than you, It’s you I work for
I have no time for lies, I want only truth
I will defend you all, I will stand with you
Purpose in my life: To help all I can
Always aiming to be a true righteous man
Nothing gonna stop us, Never gonna die
To make this life better, We must always try
We must seek perfection, Never can we lie
Live life generously, Respect every life
Joe
Street corner strummer, play your song of freedom
Know you are not bound to any man’s kingdom
Metal chimes sound, adding to your street value
Just enough to quench a thirst that isn’t new
It’s a disease more than two decades old
Whose life began when a man did as he was told
He turned his back on one love for another
Soon enough she has grown into a mother
And every day grows easier to make a bad choice
His guitar grows dusty the strings make no noise
The man grows older and he felt his time pass
And in time he began to long for his past
His empty heart turned into empty cans
His speech is slurred, forever crooked is his stance
Now he is free to play, free to choose
But freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose
Street corner strummer, play your song of freedom
Know you are not bound to any man’s kingdom
Your heart is chilled, so is your drink
One more swig, no more kids of which to think
Hope you liked those. If you did, check out www.myspace.com/sonuvadamit for more.
I am a legitimate writer. For real.
Welcome again folks. Been a busy weekend for me and it seems I'm startin' to gather a lil bit of attention. I really can't explain how much I feel like a rockstar when I go to that facebook fan page and I see I've got comin up on 20 fans at this point (half of 'em I haven't even met). To those of you who are my fans I say Thanks and I hope I don't disappoint with this.
What this is, you see, is a sample of my writing. It's a short story I want to include in a collection of short stories I'm working on along with this blog and a dozen other things I do everyday. Here you go. Hope you enjoy.
The Intro:
I am notoriously bad with women. Always have been. My friend Denise once said I’m the kind of guy that would go to a club and if a girl came up to ask if I wanted to dance I’d say “No thanks, I’m trying to meet women.”
I’ve always been oblivious to the subtle hints of women and I’m definitely no better at approaching them. What do you say to them? Something to break the ice, it should be clever, get her attention, but nothing too forward. None of those cheesy lines will do. Something sincere and original can work but odds are better if you look a certain way.
That’s a trick too. Some girls want tall, dark, and handsome. Of course some don’t want too tall, or too dark, or even too handsome. Then again a tall girl may want a really tall guy. A girl may want a man as black the night. Some girls don’t want the pretty boy.
It’s up to a guy to be all of these and none of these and convince the girl to be okay with whatever he has or doesn’t have. Most of the time that doesn’t work. The good guys get passed over and the bad guys get all the girls that want to change him into a good guy and nobody’s happy.
It’s probably the hardest thing in the world to find somebody who’ll love you for you. It’s damned difficult to be who you are in our society. There are so many billions of dollars spent telling people what to think, what to eat, what to smell like, what good music is. All the stuff that people should decide for themselves, all the things that make them unique are the things people tend to hide to be accepted. Those are also the things that people will truly love them for.
I’m a huge dork. I love comics. I watch cartoons. I have a pretty good sense of humor. I’m not the smartest guy on the planet (thank God) but I do think I’m pretty damn clever sometimes. I’m kind of hairy and lazy. I drink and have been known to smoke from time to time. I will give you the shirt off my back. I like kids. I’m a huge flirt. I’m stubborn and my pride is hurt easily. I believe I am a talented writer. All of that is true. Maybe one day I’ll find someone to love me not in spite of it but because of it.
But that’s all romantic bullshit. Love isn’t like in the movies. There is no map of destiny. There are no guiding stars to lead you to your true love. God does not shine down on you in a ray of light and point you to your destined love.
You meet people you like them or you don’t. You marry one or twenty and you might find one that’ll last you fifty years. You might even live a full and happy life without ever being married. Love can be stupid or crazy or violent or incredible or the only thing that makes any sense. In real life love is everything that people are. All the good and all the bad. These are the stories of how all that stuff really happens. Or at least how it happened for me.
And what I call "Starting off With a Bang"
When I was young and spry the place to go for social events was the Rainbow roller rink. It was where all the kids went on the weekends to have a little fun. It was cheap and the food was decent. You could get burgers, nachos, or chili dogs and all of them sloppy good. There were laser lights and a disco ball to shine on a hardwood floor that I seemed to be tryin’ to dent with my ass.
No, I was not much of a skater at all. I didn’t have my own pair of skates for a long time but I had a whole collection of bruises from trying to learn. A few on my shins were even given to me by my good friend, Sammy. Sam and I had a little quarrel at least once where we kicked each other in the shins with those big, ugly, tanned leather roller skates with the orange wheels. Those damned things had to weigh a good five pounds each so when I got kicked it was easy to see. My legs swelled up so bad with bruises I had trouble walking and couldn’t even roll up my jeans to get a good look at the damage.
So, one afternoon Sam and I rode down to the roller rink in the back of his step-father’s truck. It was hot out, that’s typical for Texas in spring (or just about any other time of year.) The wind kept us kind of cool as we cruised down First and around the loop. By the time we got to the rink my thick black hair had already become somewhat unmanageable. At the time, it wouldn’t have looked good even if it hadn’t been tossed around by the wind. It was too thick to lay slicked back like I wanted and too short to do much else with.
We walked in the skate arena and got our clumsy shoes with the wheels bolted to them. We tied the big, ugly, tanned things to our feet with the chocolate brown laces that always seemed to have either an extra ten inches or be torn to shreds. Like I said I wasn’t much of a skater, so I did spend a lot of time with my ass being planted in the ground. The little while I spent on the skates I looked like a duck trying to take flight the way my butt stuck out behind me and my arms out to either side. Yes, I was damn sexy doing all of this, thank you for noticing.
After about an hour of rolling, sweating, and bruising, Sam and I got to talking. Now Sam likes to push me to do new things. Sometimes it’s so he can help get me out of my shell and sprout a bigger pair. Sometimes it’s so he can sit back and go “Watch, this is gonna be funny.” So, that day Sam was pushing me to ask a girl out. It didn’t matter what girl or if she said yes or no. What was important was getting it out of the way and the experience I would gain. I had never asked a girl out at that point. So, despite being a nervous pansy, I was going to work up the nerve to go up to a complete stranger, tell her she’s attractive and that I would like to take her out with no money, while I was sweaty, and had a thick head of unorganized hair. Hell of a plan by two young boys with nothing better to do.
So I picked a girl I thought decent looking, a dark-haired Hispanic girl with a few slightly Asian features. Maybe she was Filipino; I’m not sure on that seeing as there’s been an awful lot of beer between now and then so I don’t remember so well. I went up to her and I was in such a daze I really have no idea exactly what it was that I said to her. I’m sure I stuttered a bit and probably talked quietly as I tend to do when I’m nervous. To be perfectly truthful I’m not sure I’m the one that went up to her at all. Sam may have done all the talking for me. I was pretty out of my head with fear. Like I said, I’m a nervous pansy.
What I do remember was very harsh. Not the part where she shot me down. That’s fine. No one likes being rejected but what can you do? I figured maybe if I could find out why I was rejected then I could improve my standing next time around. Sam and I went back to ask her why it was that I was rejected.
Damn big mistake. Never ask why you are rejected by a woman. She will tell you. Hardly ever does a woman say anything politely if she is pushed on a subject.
“Because He’s Ugly!”
Yeah, that part I remember very clearly. Something like that sticks with a person like a scar. I asked and I got an answer. And so did half the roller rink.
Bitch.
Okay, so I got shot down. No problem. She said I was ugly too. Well everyone is entitled to their own opinion.
Bitch.
At least I never have to see her again, right?
Wow, couldn’t be anymore wrong about that. Come Monday morning as I sit in my Texas history class and glance across the room who is it that I see? Yeah, that Filipino looking girl sitting in the same desk she sat in all year long without me noticing her.
Son of a bitch.
Okay if I just keep my head down for the next three months I can keep from being even more embarrassed by her. I guess that plan worked because I’ve never talked to her after that day in the rink. I’ve dated girls much more attractive than her since then so it was just her opinion that I was unattractive. Eh, you live, you learn, you move on.
Bitch.
This and more can be found on my blog at www.myspace.com/sonuvadamnit
What this is, you see, is a sample of my writing. It's a short story I want to include in a collection of short stories I'm working on along with this blog and a dozen other things I do everyday. Here you go. Hope you enjoy.
The Intro:
I am notoriously bad with women. Always have been. My friend Denise once said I’m the kind of guy that would go to a club and if a girl came up to ask if I wanted to dance I’d say “No thanks, I’m trying to meet women.”
I’ve always been oblivious to the subtle hints of women and I’m definitely no better at approaching them. What do you say to them? Something to break the ice, it should be clever, get her attention, but nothing too forward. None of those cheesy lines will do. Something sincere and original can work but odds are better if you look a certain way.
That’s a trick too. Some girls want tall, dark, and handsome. Of course some don’t want too tall, or too dark, or even too handsome. Then again a tall girl may want a really tall guy. A girl may want a man as black the night. Some girls don’t want the pretty boy.
It’s up to a guy to be all of these and none of these and convince the girl to be okay with whatever he has or doesn’t have. Most of the time that doesn’t work. The good guys get passed over and the bad guys get all the girls that want to change him into a good guy and nobody’s happy.
It’s probably the hardest thing in the world to find somebody who’ll love you for you. It’s damned difficult to be who you are in our society. There are so many billions of dollars spent telling people what to think, what to eat, what to smell like, what good music is. All the stuff that people should decide for themselves, all the things that make them unique are the things people tend to hide to be accepted. Those are also the things that people will truly love them for.
I’m a huge dork. I love comics. I watch cartoons. I have a pretty good sense of humor. I’m not the smartest guy on the planet (thank God) but I do think I’m pretty damn clever sometimes. I’m kind of hairy and lazy. I drink and have been known to smoke from time to time. I will give you the shirt off my back. I like kids. I’m a huge flirt. I’m stubborn and my pride is hurt easily. I believe I am a talented writer. All of that is true. Maybe one day I’ll find someone to love me not in spite of it but because of it.
But that’s all romantic bullshit. Love isn’t like in the movies. There is no map of destiny. There are no guiding stars to lead you to your true love. God does not shine down on you in a ray of light and point you to your destined love.
You meet people you like them or you don’t. You marry one or twenty and you might find one that’ll last you fifty years. You might even live a full and happy life without ever being married. Love can be stupid or crazy or violent or incredible or the only thing that makes any sense. In real life love is everything that people are. All the good and all the bad. These are the stories of how all that stuff really happens. Or at least how it happened for me.
And what I call "Starting off With a Bang"
When I was young and spry the place to go for social events was the Rainbow roller rink. It was where all the kids went on the weekends to have a little fun. It was cheap and the food was decent. You could get burgers, nachos, or chili dogs and all of them sloppy good. There were laser lights and a disco ball to shine on a hardwood floor that I seemed to be tryin’ to dent with my ass.
No, I was not much of a skater at all. I didn’t have my own pair of skates for a long time but I had a whole collection of bruises from trying to learn. A few on my shins were even given to me by my good friend, Sammy. Sam and I had a little quarrel at least once where we kicked each other in the shins with those big, ugly, tanned leather roller skates with the orange wheels. Those damned things had to weigh a good five pounds each so when I got kicked it was easy to see. My legs swelled up so bad with bruises I had trouble walking and couldn’t even roll up my jeans to get a good look at the damage.
So, one afternoon Sam and I rode down to the roller rink in the back of his step-father’s truck. It was hot out, that’s typical for Texas in spring (or just about any other time of year.) The wind kept us kind of cool as we cruised down First and around the loop. By the time we got to the rink my thick black hair had already become somewhat unmanageable. At the time, it wouldn’t have looked good even if it hadn’t been tossed around by the wind. It was too thick to lay slicked back like I wanted and too short to do much else with.
We walked in the skate arena and got our clumsy shoes with the wheels bolted to them. We tied the big, ugly, tanned things to our feet with the chocolate brown laces that always seemed to have either an extra ten inches or be torn to shreds. Like I said I wasn’t much of a skater, so I did spend a lot of time with my ass being planted in the ground. The little while I spent on the skates I looked like a duck trying to take flight the way my butt stuck out behind me and my arms out to either side. Yes, I was damn sexy doing all of this, thank you for noticing.
After about an hour of rolling, sweating, and bruising, Sam and I got to talking. Now Sam likes to push me to do new things. Sometimes it’s so he can help get me out of my shell and sprout a bigger pair. Sometimes it’s so he can sit back and go “Watch, this is gonna be funny.” So, that day Sam was pushing me to ask a girl out. It didn’t matter what girl or if she said yes or no. What was important was getting it out of the way and the experience I would gain. I had never asked a girl out at that point. So, despite being a nervous pansy, I was going to work up the nerve to go up to a complete stranger, tell her she’s attractive and that I would like to take her out with no money, while I was sweaty, and had a thick head of unorganized hair. Hell of a plan by two young boys with nothing better to do.
So I picked a girl I thought decent looking, a dark-haired Hispanic girl with a few slightly Asian features. Maybe she was Filipino; I’m not sure on that seeing as there’s been an awful lot of beer between now and then so I don’t remember so well. I went up to her and I was in such a daze I really have no idea exactly what it was that I said to her. I’m sure I stuttered a bit and probably talked quietly as I tend to do when I’m nervous. To be perfectly truthful I’m not sure I’m the one that went up to her at all. Sam may have done all the talking for me. I was pretty out of my head with fear. Like I said, I’m a nervous pansy.
What I do remember was very harsh. Not the part where she shot me down. That’s fine. No one likes being rejected but what can you do? I figured maybe if I could find out why I was rejected then I could improve my standing next time around. Sam and I went back to ask her why it was that I was rejected.
Damn big mistake. Never ask why you are rejected by a woman. She will tell you. Hardly ever does a woman say anything politely if she is pushed on a subject.
“Because He’s Ugly!”
Yeah, that part I remember very clearly. Something like that sticks with a person like a scar. I asked and I got an answer. And so did half the roller rink.
Bitch.
Okay, so I got shot down. No problem. She said I was ugly too. Well everyone is entitled to their own opinion.
Bitch.
At least I never have to see her again, right?
Wow, couldn’t be anymore wrong about that. Come Monday morning as I sit in my Texas history class and glance across the room who is it that I see? Yeah, that Filipino looking girl sitting in the same desk she sat in all year long without me noticing her.
Son of a bitch.
Okay if I just keep my head down for the next three months I can keep from being even more embarrassed by her. I guess that plan worked because I’ve never talked to her after that day in the rink. I’ve dated girls much more attractive than her since then so it was just her opinion that I was unattractive. Eh, you live, you learn, you move on.
Bitch.
This and more can be found on my blog at www.myspace.com/sonuvadamnit
Friday, August 21, 2009
I'm a Dork. Professionally.
Lotta people wonder what it is they want to do with their lives for a long time before settling on something. I started off wanting to be Batman. (Yes, really, 'cause I'm a dork). I was six and kinda hopin' somebody would do sumthin' to make me a dark and brooding orphan with lots of money so I could have an excuse to dress up like a giant bat and beat up bad guys.
For some reason that didn't work out.
So, I figured the next best thing was to write about guys like Batman. I'm a huge comic book geek. I go to my comic shop every Wednesday and pick up some new issues along with all the other overly scrawny or slightly pudgy nerds. I do collect comics and when I get to talkin' bout 'em I can sound like a college professor 'cause I can tell you all about pacing, foreshadowing, character development, and all that jazz. I've been into comics for as long as I can remember. It seemed like a natural career choice for me.
I love comics but they never get the respect they deserve. Granted a lot of 'em are crap or pure fluff but there are some that are incredibly amazing. (I highly reccomend Alan Moore's Watchmen, Garth Ennis and Steve Dillon's Preacher, and Kirkman's The Walking Dead.) I hope to write incredible and amazing things for comics like the guys that came before me. Only better.
As I've gotten older my tastes have changed a bit. I still love my comics but I read a lot more books than I used to, I dig poetry, and I've learned a lot in my college courses. I write more than just superheroes in tights fightin' with death rays and what not. I write short stories, poetry, and now I'm doin' this blog. I still do the tights and death rays form time to time 'cause I mean it's fuckin' death rays man, classic stuff for a dork like me.
Anyway, if you care to check out any of this stuff feel free to check out: www.myspace.com/sonuvadamnit
or become a fan at:
http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#/pages/Alex-Rodriguez/124763845215?ref=nf
For some reason that didn't work out.
So, I figured the next best thing was to write about guys like Batman. I'm a huge comic book geek. I go to my comic shop every Wednesday and pick up some new issues along with all the other overly scrawny or slightly pudgy nerds. I do collect comics and when I get to talkin' bout 'em I can sound like a college professor 'cause I can tell you all about pacing, foreshadowing, character development, and all that jazz. I've been into comics for as long as I can remember. It seemed like a natural career choice for me.
I love comics but they never get the respect they deserve. Granted a lot of 'em are crap or pure fluff but there are some that are incredibly amazing. (I highly reccomend Alan Moore's Watchmen, Garth Ennis and Steve Dillon's Preacher, and Kirkman's The Walking Dead.) I hope to write incredible and amazing things for comics like the guys that came before me. Only better.
As I've gotten older my tastes have changed a bit. I still love my comics but I read a lot more books than I used to, I dig poetry, and I've learned a lot in my college courses. I write more than just superheroes in tights fightin' with death rays and what not. I write short stories, poetry, and now I'm doin' this blog. I still do the tights and death rays form time to time 'cause I mean it's fuckin' death rays man, classic stuff for a dork like me.
Anyway, if you care to check out any of this stuff feel free to check out: www.myspace.com/sonuvadamnit
or become a fan at:
http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#/pages/Alex-Rodriguez/124763845215?ref=nf
Thursday, August 20, 2009
I'm scary....boo
Yesterday I was in a weird mood. Dunno why at all. I get like that sometimes.
Guys are compared to dogs all the time for all they're bad qualities. I'm no animal but I don't think there's much wrong with bein like a dog. They're loyal, lovable, but always maintain that touch of 'em that's wild. I suppose it could be said I'm like that. (I wouldn't say I'm so lovable exactly though.) Sometimes I want to be quiet and just be alone with my thoughts. I think that's what happened yesterday.
Problem is I wasn't alone. I was with my girlfriend who decided I was super scary and kinda creeped out by this version of me she hasn't seen yet. (we've only been together two months.) It's not her fault I was like that at all and there's nuthin' wrong with her wantin' to be around me.(She comes off a lil needy sometimes. I know that's gonna make her mad 'cause she's the only person gonna read this, but it's true. But overall she's good to me so you have to take the good and the bad if that's who you want to be with right?)
With her there I was trying to channel the frustration that keeps me wanting to be quiet and alone to my thoughts so I didn't snap at her. She doesn't deserve it and I know that so I did my best to maintain this focus but she says she can sense things anyway. She said she could feel these fourteen big black scary arms like "Rahrr" (her word that I'm not really sure how to spell). I'm pretty sure she meant that metaphorically but the point is I was scary to her.
It's been a while since anybody thought this 6' tall 195lb Mexican was scary. Mostly kids in highschool used to 'cause I was shy and quiet and looked angry most of the time. Eventually, my shell opened up and I'm not so scary anymore. (I miss those days sometimes.)
So last night after a few hours of her puttin' up with my scariness I loosened up and I wasn't so scary anymore. I still dunno what it was that was botherin' me.
I mean I've just been runnin my dad's business for the last two months while my mom was sick in the hospital with a thin but ever present chance of death. My grandmother just died. I'm broke. I live at home with my parents after my last girlfriend cleaned me out and I'm still stuck with her debt. The business is goin' broke in this economy. My writing career isn't going anywhere. My college career is somewhat stalled since I have no money. Dad's been streesed with all that's goin' on to so I'm puttin together the people he snaps at. I'm helpin' my uncle with his parole and new fashionable ankle bracelet. I've been tryin' to drop a lil weight without much success. 6 years since highschool n I only put on 15lbs, should I really be worried? I'm not that worried but I still wanna lose 'em wasn't skinny til the ex had me starvin', literally. I had dropped down to 150lbs. cause we were so broke.
Yeah, I'm a lil stressed. but I'm strong enough to deal with all that and a helluva lot more. So bring it on.
Guys are compared to dogs all the time for all they're bad qualities. I'm no animal but I don't think there's much wrong with bein like a dog. They're loyal, lovable, but always maintain that touch of 'em that's wild. I suppose it could be said I'm like that. (I wouldn't say I'm so lovable exactly though.) Sometimes I want to be quiet and just be alone with my thoughts. I think that's what happened yesterday.
Problem is I wasn't alone. I was with my girlfriend who decided I was super scary and kinda creeped out by this version of me she hasn't seen yet. (we've only been together two months.) It's not her fault I was like that at all and there's nuthin' wrong with her wantin' to be around me.(She comes off a lil needy sometimes. I know that's gonna make her mad 'cause she's the only person gonna read this, but it's true. But overall she's good to me so you have to take the good and the bad if that's who you want to be with right?)
With her there I was trying to channel the frustration that keeps me wanting to be quiet and alone to my thoughts so I didn't snap at her. She doesn't deserve it and I know that so I did my best to maintain this focus but she says she can sense things anyway. She said she could feel these fourteen big black scary arms like "Rahrr" (her word that I'm not really sure how to spell). I'm pretty sure she meant that metaphorically but the point is I was scary to her.
It's been a while since anybody thought this 6' tall 195lb Mexican was scary. Mostly kids in highschool used to 'cause I was shy and quiet and looked angry most of the time. Eventually, my shell opened up and I'm not so scary anymore. (I miss those days sometimes.)
So last night after a few hours of her puttin' up with my scariness I loosened up and I wasn't so scary anymore. I still dunno what it was that was botherin' me.
I mean I've just been runnin my dad's business for the last two months while my mom was sick in the hospital with a thin but ever present chance of death. My grandmother just died. I'm broke. I live at home with my parents after my last girlfriend cleaned me out and I'm still stuck with her debt. The business is goin' broke in this economy. My writing career isn't going anywhere. My college career is somewhat stalled since I have no money. Dad's been streesed with all that's goin' on to so I'm puttin together the people he snaps at. I'm helpin' my uncle with his parole and new fashionable ankle bracelet. I've been tryin' to drop a lil weight without much success. 6 years since highschool n I only put on 15lbs, should I really be worried? I'm not that worried but I still wanna lose 'em wasn't skinny til the ex had me starvin', literally. I had dropped down to 150lbs. cause we were so broke.
Yeah, I'm a lil stressed. but I'm strong enough to deal with all that and a helluva lot more. So bring it on.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
The Religion of a Plumber
Religion.
It ain't for me.
My mother is Catholic. She says her prayers, wants to attend church regularly, and reads her bible.
My father, the dog, and I are all about the same in our level of spirituality. We don't really go to church. We live just fine without it. We do what we think is right at any given moment in time 'cause thats what seems right.
It's my opinion that men are naturally inclined to believe in what we can see and touch. We like things that are solid, things that can be broken and fixed. It's common for a guy to understand mechanics, gadgets, carpentry, or some other form of maintenence usually passed down from father to son. That labor becomes a sort of bonding, church-like experience for men. We begin to understand the world by what we can touch, feel, learn, see, and experience. That's always made sense to my father and he handed that down to me.
We would talk about how to be a good man through our labors together. He taught me to be a hard worker, to always do my best, look for solutions to problems, making me his worker. By dealing with his customers I learned how treat people fairly without letting myself be taken advantage of. By working under him and alongside his other workers I have learned humility. The physical demands of the job have even taught me the value of stayin' in shape and tryin' my hardest. I learned all that a man needs to know about bein a good man from that job. My father taught me just about all that he knows about everything there. I could write forever and probably still never be able to teach anyone all that he taught me.
Girls, I dunno what the hell it is exactly girls learn. I don't understand women enough to know what goes through their minds. I know that each one is like a snowflake in that way they're never alike. They can look alike, like the same foods, or music, or movies but in the end Eve is Eve and Lilith is Lilith. A lot of what women believe, at least in my experience, has a lot more to do with emotions, feeling, and instincts.
My mother claims to have a book of witchcraft as a child. In it were contained what she thought were recipes. She brought it to her mother not understanding why someone would have gotten rid of a perfectly good cook. My grandmother got rid of the book believing it was witchcraft.
My girlfriend believes in astrology. Other females I've known have believed in predestination, tarot cards, spirits, and of course God. Females seem to be very open to those ideas.
For me religion has several faults. People get to believin' in a thing and all of a sudden it's worth killin' over, like the Spanish inquisition or the crusades and a dozen examples. Some people think that if you go to church regular-like it's okay to judge everyone for not bein' Christian or whatever. Last I heard Christian's ain't sposed to judge lest they're ready for some judgin' themselves. And I'm not the strongest supporter of homosexuals, i don't care what they do as long as it doesn't get in the way of what I wanna do, but I have never thought it's right to condemn them for bein' gay. A gay man that is a strong contributor to the community and a good person goes to Hell? That doesn't seem fair.
Some of those might be issues with people more than religion though. I love most people but can't stand a lot of 'em. It's mostly for those few that are ignorant and intolerant. I dislike a lot of things people do like, sittin on their asses watchin T.V. all the time, standin' by when they could be helpin', bein' mean to one another. That doesn't make those people evil but it sure does make me not like 'em so much.
I don't follow any particular religion. I was raised Catholic but I don't belong to any particular church. I follow the sense of right and wrong my parents gave me.
It's been said that I don't believe in God. Joss Whedon (a talented writer for those of you who don't know him. He's the guy behind Dollhouse, Buffy the vampire Slayer, Astonishing X-Men and a confirmed Atheist.) said that when you remove God from the equation a lot of people tend to think that people will run wild. He believes that when the promise of a Heaven or Hell is taken away, the only thing that matters what we do here on Earth. I'd have to say I agree with him on that. Heaven and Hell don't really matter to me. I do what I feel is right regardless if any religous text says it's okay. If there is a God he will judge me based on my best effort. I can't say I'd be disappointed by that.
It ain't for me.
My mother is Catholic. She says her prayers, wants to attend church regularly, and reads her bible.
My father, the dog, and I are all about the same in our level of spirituality. We don't really go to church. We live just fine without it. We do what we think is right at any given moment in time 'cause thats what seems right.
It's my opinion that men are naturally inclined to believe in what we can see and touch. We like things that are solid, things that can be broken and fixed. It's common for a guy to understand mechanics, gadgets, carpentry, or some other form of maintenence usually passed down from father to son. That labor becomes a sort of bonding, church-like experience for men. We begin to understand the world by what we can touch, feel, learn, see, and experience. That's always made sense to my father and he handed that down to me.
We would talk about how to be a good man through our labors together. He taught me to be a hard worker, to always do my best, look for solutions to problems, making me his worker. By dealing with his customers I learned how treat people fairly without letting myself be taken advantage of. By working under him and alongside his other workers I have learned humility. The physical demands of the job have even taught me the value of stayin' in shape and tryin' my hardest. I learned all that a man needs to know about bein a good man from that job. My father taught me just about all that he knows about everything there. I could write forever and probably still never be able to teach anyone all that he taught me.
Girls, I dunno what the hell it is exactly girls learn. I don't understand women enough to know what goes through their minds. I know that each one is like a snowflake in that way they're never alike. They can look alike, like the same foods, or music, or movies but in the end Eve is Eve and Lilith is Lilith. A lot of what women believe, at least in my experience, has a lot more to do with emotions, feeling, and instincts.
My mother claims to have a book of witchcraft as a child. In it were contained what she thought were recipes. She brought it to her mother not understanding why someone would have gotten rid of a perfectly good cook. My grandmother got rid of the book believing it was witchcraft.
My girlfriend believes in astrology. Other females I've known have believed in predestination, tarot cards, spirits, and of course God. Females seem to be very open to those ideas.
For me religion has several faults. People get to believin' in a thing and all of a sudden it's worth killin' over, like the Spanish inquisition or the crusades and a dozen examples. Some people think that if you go to church regular-like it's okay to judge everyone for not bein' Christian or whatever. Last I heard Christian's ain't sposed to judge lest they're ready for some judgin' themselves. And I'm not the strongest supporter of homosexuals, i don't care what they do as long as it doesn't get in the way of what I wanna do, but I have never thought it's right to condemn them for bein' gay. A gay man that is a strong contributor to the community and a good person goes to Hell? That doesn't seem fair.
Some of those might be issues with people more than religion though. I love most people but can't stand a lot of 'em. It's mostly for those few that are ignorant and intolerant. I dislike a lot of things people do like, sittin on their asses watchin T.V. all the time, standin' by when they could be helpin', bein' mean to one another. That doesn't make those people evil but it sure does make me not like 'em so much.
I don't follow any particular religion. I was raised Catholic but I don't belong to any particular church. I follow the sense of right and wrong my parents gave me.
It's been said that I don't believe in God. Joss Whedon (a talented writer for those of you who don't know him. He's the guy behind Dollhouse, Buffy the vampire Slayer, Astonishing X-Men and a confirmed Atheist.) said that when you remove God from the equation a lot of people tend to think that people will run wild. He believes that when the promise of a Heaven or Hell is taken away, the only thing that matters what we do here on Earth. I'd have to say I agree with him on that. Heaven and Hell don't really matter to me. I do what I feel is right regardless if any religous text says it's okay. If there is a God he will judge me based on my best effort. I can't say I'd be disappointed by that.
Monday, August 17, 2009
I Apologize
For those of you that don't know (most likely no one 'cause nobody reads this) I tend to stick my foot in my mouth a lot. I'm not real good at pickin' the right words to make someone feel better or expressin' how I feel. At least not when I'm talkin'.
I tend to be quiet and shy in person. I'm rarely the center of attention. I don't want to be. I have never felt like anything I've ever done was somethin' that everyone should take notice of. I'm just a young guy from Texas that's broke as hell. I work. I went to school (graduated with my associates and tryin' to get my bachelor's in English soon as I get some funds together). I'm not a rocket scientist. I'm no zen master. I know that I have yet to bring anything truly worth while to the world.
When I choose my words for my writing, I have much more time to think about what I want to say. I usually have time to say exactly what I want. I'm a much better writer than I am a speaker (so you can tell I can't talk for nuthin'). Even with my words carefully chosen I can still manage to stick my foot in my mouth.
Some people would say that calls for an apology. If you say somethin' and you hurt a person's feelin's you should say you're sorry. You should be considerate of other people's feelin's. A man doesn't start any unneccessary conflict.
A man also doesn't run from conflict. A man has the responsibility to tell people the truth.
As a writer I can only tell you what I know, what I've seen, and what I've learned. I can not form your opinions for you. It's not my job to tell you what to think or feel about anything I say or do any more than it is your job to tell me how to think or feel.
My duty is to tell the truth as I see it. I have my own opinions, my own thoughts, my way of doin' things. As I friend I will always tell you the truth. If you should be able to depend on anyone to give it to you straight it should be you friends. It shouldn't matter if the truth is what you want to hear or not. As a man I won't cower from my thoughts. If I don't like somethin' you're gonna know it. If I think somethin's not just I'll make it right. If I don't like you I won't hide the fact.
Now, none of that means that I can't be civil. I know when I've said my piece that's all that needs to be done. I am not an animal. I never set out to say anything to piss anyone off. If I have or I have ever offended anyone that happens to be the regrettable casualty in any statement.
I will not apologize for my thoughts or opinions. I will admit that I may have been wrong or misinformed. To apologize for what I have said , however, would be to erase whatever thoughts or feelings I had at the time of any writing or statement I ever made. I can't please everyone. I'm well aware of this fact. I can only be me and do what I believe is right at any given time.
In short, I apologize for nothing.
"Well I know what's right,
I got just one life
in a world that keeps on pushin' me around
but I'll stand my ground, and I won't back down"
-"I Won't Back Down", Tom Petty, 1989
I tend to be quiet and shy in person. I'm rarely the center of attention. I don't want to be. I have never felt like anything I've ever done was somethin' that everyone should take notice of. I'm just a young guy from Texas that's broke as hell. I work. I went to school (graduated with my associates and tryin' to get my bachelor's in English soon as I get some funds together). I'm not a rocket scientist. I'm no zen master. I know that I have yet to bring anything truly worth while to the world.
When I choose my words for my writing, I have much more time to think about what I want to say. I usually have time to say exactly what I want. I'm a much better writer than I am a speaker (so you can tell I can't talk for nuthin'). Even with my words carefully chosen I can still manage to stick my foot in my mouth.
Some people would say that calls for an apology. If you say somethin' and you hurt a person's feelin's you should say you're sorry. You should be considerate of other people's feelin's. A man doesn't start any unneccessary conflict.
A man also doesn't run from conflict. A man has the responsibility to tell people the truth.
As a writer I can only tell you what I know, what I've seen, and what I've learned. I can not form your opinions for you. It's not my job to tell you what to think or feel about anything I say or do any more than it is your job to tell me how to think or feel.
My duty is to tell the truth as I see it. I have my own opinions, my own thoughts, my way of doin' things. As I friend I will always tell you the truth. If you should be able to depend on anyone to give it to you straight it should be you friends. It shouldn't matter if the truth is what you want to hear or not. As a man I won't cower from my thoughts. If I don't like somethin' you're gonna know it. If I think somethin's not just I'll make it right. If I don't like you I won't hide the fact.
Now, none of that means that I can't be civil. I know when I've said my piece that's all that needs to be done. I am not an animal. I never set out to say anything to piss anyone off. If I have or I have ever offended anyone that happens to be the regrettable casualty in any statement.
I will not apologize for my thoughts or opinions. I will admit that I may have been wrong or misinformed. To apologize for what I have said , however, would be to erase whatever thoughts or feelings I had at the time of any writing or statement I ever made. I can't please everyone. I'm well aware of this fact. I can only be me and do what I believe is right at any given time.
In short, I apologize for nothing.
"Well I know what's right,
I got just one life
in a world that keeps on pushin' me around
but I'll stand my ground, and I won't back down"
-"I Won't Back Down", Tom Petty, 1989
Friday, August 14, 2009
Life needs more green lights
Last night I came across a piece of wall art in a Target. Normally, I don't see much art outside of a museum that I'd say is worth payin' money for. But I was really diggin this particular piece of art. It was a motorcycle with splashes of red in the background and the words "Life needs more green lights" written on it.
I really dig that. The motorcycle a symbol of freedom. The red surrounding it a symbol of restriction. Green lights of course represent all the roads a person can go down.
I hate havin' to answer to people. I don't like bein' told what to do. I want to be able to explore what I want. I wanna go off adventurin' and conquer the world, or at least see it all. I'm not some Anarchist that thinks there should be no government. I'm fine with one I just feel it should stay outta my way.
I don't want anybody babyin' me. I can take care of myself just fine. I just want to be free to roam and not have to fill out forms or ask permission to do it. I don't need people tellin' me what I can't do. I need people that wanna help me do what I'm tryin' to do.
I'm not a rebel. I don't wanna do black tar heroin or have sex with animals. I just want to go where I want, drink a lil, dance a lil, be able to defend myself, and be left the hell alone.
People in this country are supposed to be allowed the pursuit of happiness. More and more we get shoved into lil boxes called cubicles, strangled with neckties, bogged down with debt, forced into corners and beaten into submission 'til we got nuthin left. We wind up older, fatter, lazy versions of ourselves. We wind up bein' too scared to stand in the dark alone at night. We whisper on our knees "Please don't hurt me anymore.", instead of shouting out "Bring it on, Mother Fucker!" with our fists in front of us.
I say bring on the green lights. I could use some yes's in my life.
Or Maybe I just dig too deep into comercialized artwork that's mass produced for mass consumption.
I really dig that. The motorcycle a symbol of freedom. The red surrounding it a symbol of restriction. Green lights of course represent all the roads a person can go down.
I hate havin' to answer to people. I don't like bein' told what to do. I want to be able to explore what I want. I wanna go off adventurin' and conquer the world, or at least see it all. I'm not some Anarchist that thinks there should be no government. I'm fine with one I just feel it should stay outta my way.
I don't want anybody babyin' me. I can take care of myself just fine. I just want to be free to roam and not have to fill out forms or ask permission to do it. I don't need people tellin' me what I can't do. I need people that wanna help me do what I'm tryin' to do.
I'm not a rebel. I don't wanna do black tar heroin or have sex with animals. I just want to go where I want, drink a lil, dance a lil, be able to defend myself, and be left the hell alone.
People in this country are supposed to be allowed the pursuit of happiness. More and more we get shoved into lil boxes called cubicles, strangled with neckties, bogged down with debt, forced into corners and beaten into submission 'til we got nuthin left. We wind up older, fatter, lazy versions of ourselves. We wind up bein' too scared to stand in the dark alone at night. We whisper on our knees "Please don't hurt me anymore.", instead of shouting out "Bring it on, Mother Fucker!" with our fists in front of us.
I say bring on the green lights. I could use some yes's in my life.
Or Maybe I just dig too deep into comercialized artwork that's mass produced for mass consumption.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Gruel
Do you know what gruel is?
A lotta folks don't, not a big deal if you don't. I only know it cuz I heard 'bout it on an old Simpsons episode 'bout a decade or so ago. (The one where Bart takes over Kamp Krusty if I'm not mistaken) It's kinda like oatmeal but less flavorful and thinner. It'll fill you up but there's really not much to it at all. It's there, it's not very good, doesn't particularly do anything beneficial for you, but it'll help you survive until you find something better.
That's more or less how I would describe this fella I met this weekend. See, his girl (Red)and my girl (Soul Rebel) are best friends. So, we were hangin' out this weekend and after the new couple had been together two weeks I finally got a chance to meet him.
When I met him this is what I noticed 'bout him. He wasn't dressed like anything special. Cargo pants, t-shirt, and some wrinkled shirt over that. Not a big deal normally but I'll explain why it irritated me in a bit. He had a man-purse (those damned things shouldn't even exist) to take with him to the party we were all goin' to.
So, he walks in my girlfriend's front door, looks at me, and walks past me. In my book, that's a big taboo. I'm Mexican and Texan. Both cultures are big on respect, in case you didn't know. You meet a man for the first time, you shake his hand with a good firm grip (none of that bone crushing bullshit unless you're lookin' to disrespect a man). So, he skipped that 'til Red introduced us properly. And even when she did, I stuck my hand out and there was a moment of hesitation that I could tell he either wasn't the type to shake or didn't want to. Either way doesn't really look good in my opinion.
He spoke with a half-lisp. Now that's somethin' I haven't really encountered before. It sounded like he had a lisp but only cuz he wanted to sound like he had one. Like an impression of a person with a lisp. Of course, it's not like I examined his mouth or anything so I dunno whats up with that really.
Later that night, the girls were in the bathroom talkin' 'bout whatever it is girls talk 'bout. I was in the kitchen drinkin' my beer and I look over and I see these big round eyes starin' at me. Never backin' down, I stared back. And we had a moment. A very creepy moment.
That bastard in general gives off a creepy vibe. He's short and has those big starin' eyes like a damn evil teddy bear or somethin'. An evil teddy bear with four knives in his pockets.
In my opinion he is gruel. He's got no substance to offer Red. All that he is is creepy but I sure don't feel threatened by him so it's an empty creepiness. He's creepy like the Ronald McDonald Statue that sits on the bench outside Mickey D's waitin for lil kids. (Not actually gonna snatch kids up but sure looks like he wants to or maybe it's just me.)
What little I've heard 'bout him makes him sound even worse. I hear he doesn't pay for the dates he takes her on. (I have a standing rule that girls don't pay, period. Girlfriend, friend, sister, whatever. It doesnt matter a girl shouldn't pay. Girls should be treated like princesses. But never spoiled.) I hear he was kinda obsessed with a friend of hers, so much so that he's been accused of stalking that friend. Yeah, he's a stalker. Or at least that's the rumor. It's believed by the people around me that he followed this girl, watched her through her windows, and hired someone to hurt her boyfriend. I also heard Gruel has told her he loves her. Ugh. Two weeks? Two damn weeks and he's in love? He's an idiot. To make matters worse I heard that Red said it back. Granted, it was an awkward situation. Not much to say to "I love you"without someone gettin upset besides "I love you too."
Red is beautiful. She's got long red hair, rosy cheeks, a great smile and a ton more to offer the world. She's an amazing friend. She's full of life. She is one of the coolest people you could ever have the pleasure to meet. I'm always excited to see her as are all of her friends. Any guy would be lucky to have her in his life. For the party, the girls were all dolled up. Mine in a gorgeous red dress. Red in a lovely, classy, black number. Both of 'em stunning to see.
Remember now that Gruel is dressed like it's just a regular ol' school day and he can look like crap if he wants to, but then you pair that with the girls lookin' like a pair of princesses? I'm not a prince or nuthin like that but I never dress like a bum when I'm goin' out with my princess on account of she deserves to look like she's with a guy that respects himself and her.
Gruel ain't got nuthin' worth offerin to her. But she's with him. And he's with her. It's not an uncommon thing to see. A girl that's worth so much settlin' for a guy that ain't worth a damn. Why they do it? Hell I dunno. (I'd have never gotten a girlfriend if it hadn't been for it.)
I hope one day all these girls I see makin' the same mistake realize they need a man who's gonna give 'em everything they could ever need or want without havin' to ask for it. The world needs stronger, better men for those women. One day those men will be father's and they will raise strong, better daughters.
A lotta folks don't, not a big deal if you don't. I only know it cuz I heard 'bout it on an old Simpsons episode 'bout a decade or so ago. (The one where Bart takes over Kamp Krusty if I'm not mistaken) It's kinda like oatmeal but less flavorful and thinner. It'll fill you up but there's really not much to it at all. It's there, it's not very good, doesn't particularly do anything beneficial for you, but it'll help you survive until you find something better.
That's more or less how I would describe this fella I met this weekend. See, his girl (Red)and my girl (Soul Rebel) are best friends. So, we were hangin' out this weekend and after the new couple had been together two weeks I finally got a chance to meet him.
When I met him this is what I noticed 'bout him. He wasn't dressed like anything special. Cargo pants, t-shirt, and some wrinkled shirt over that. Not a big deal normally but I'll explain why it irritated me in a bit. He had a man-purse (those damned things shouldn't even exist) to take with him to the party we were all goin' to.
So, he walks in my girlfriend's front door, looks at me, and walks past me. In my book, that's a big taboo. I'm Mexican and Texan. Both cultures are big on respect, in case you didn't know. You meet a man for the first time, you shake his hand with a good firm grip (none of that bone crushing bullshit unless you're lookin' to disrespect a man). So, he skipped that 'til Red introduced us properly. And even when she did, I stuck my hand out and there was a moment of hesitation that I could tell he either wasn't the type to shake or didn't want to. Either way doesn't really look good in my opinion.
He spoke with a half-lisp. Now that's somethin' I haven't really encountered before. It sounded like he had a lisp but only cuz he wanted to sound like he had one. Like an impression of a person with a lisp. Of course, it's not like I examined his mouth or anything so I dunno whats up with that really.
Later that night, the girls were in the bathroom talkin' 'bout whatever it is girls talk 'bout. I was in the kitchen drinkin' my beer and I look over and I see these big round eyes starin' at me. Never backin' down, I stared back. And we had a moment. A very creepy moment.
That bastard in general gives off a creepy vibe. He's short and has those big starin' eyes like a damn evil teddy bear or somethin'. An evil teddy bear with four knives in his pockets.
In my opinion he is gruel. He's got no substance to offer Red. All that he is is creepy but I sure don't feel threatened by him so it's an empty creepiness. He's creepy like the Ronald McDonald Statue that sits on the bench outside Mickey D's waitin for lil kids. (Not actually gonna snatch kids up but sure looks like he wants to or maybe it's just me.)
What little I've heard 'bout him makes him sound even worse. I hear he doesn't pay for the dates he takes her on. (I have a standing rule that girls don't pay, period. Girlfriend, friend, sister, whatever. It doesnt matter a girl shouldn't pay. Girls should be treated like princesses. But never spoiled.) I hear he was kinda obsessed with a friend of hers, so much so that he's been accused of stalking that friend. Yeah, he's a stalker. Or at least that's the rumor. It's believed by the people around me that he followed this girl, watched her through her windows, and hired someone to hurt her boyfriend. I also heard Gruel has told her he loves her. Ugh. Two weeks? Two damn weeks and he's in love? He's an idiot. To make matters worse I heard that Red said it back. Granted, it was an awkward situation. Not much to say to "I love you"without someone gettin upset besides "I love you too."
Red is beautiful. She's got long red hair, rosy cheeks, a great smile and a ton more to offer the world. She's an amazing friend. She's full of life. She is one of the coolest people you could ever have the pleasure to meet. I'm always excited to see her as are all of her friends. Any guy would be lucky to have her in his life. For the party, the girls were all dolled up. Mine in a gorgeous red dress. Red in a lovely, classy, black number. Both of 'em stunning to see.
Remember now that Gruel is dressed like it's just a regular ol' school day and he can look like crap if he wants to, but then you pair that with the girls lookin' like a pair of princesses? I'm not a prince or nuthin like that but I never dress like a bum when I'm goin' out with my princess on account of she deserves to look like she's with a guy that respects himself and her.
Gruel ain't got nuthin' worth offerin to her. But she's with him. And he's with her. It's not an uncommon thing to see. A girl that's worth so much settlin' for a guy that ain't worth a damn. Why they do it? Hell I dunno. (I'd have never gotten a girlfriend if it hadn't been for it.)
I hope one day all these girls I see makin' the same mistake realize they need a man who's gonna give 'em everything they could ever need or want without havin' to ask for it. The world needs stronger, better men for those women. One day those men will be father's and they will raise strong, better daughters.
Welcome
Welcome ladies and gents,
This is my first attempt at bloggin'. It's not somethin' I ever figured I'd be doin'. I ain't the kind of fella to sit here and spout off 'bout my emotions or cry 'bout whatever asshole in hollywood is on the cover of some tabloid. I don't have weird conspiracy theories bout aliens or gods. I dunno what it is bloggers really do exactly other than get on my nerves. It just seems to me that some asshole tellin' the internet what it is that he thinks is just a jerk lookin' for attention. I ain't that.
I don't really wanna be doin' this. My girlfriend recommended it. She likes listenin' to me rant 'bout things or talk in general. (So, already you know she's a bit odd, right? She is, but she's a great woman anyway.) I figure I can get a lil work in on my writing and maybe, just maybe, get a few people together that might actually pay money to read what i write.
You see, in case you don't know this already, I'm a writer. I write poetry, short stories, I even have a book I'm tryin' to get published. I'm a huge comic book geek and it's really my dream to publish my own comic books. I do a little drawing as well but I'm a bit too lazy to do that full time. I do my writing as often as I can but I also have a regular blue collar job. (I'm workin' right now actually but it's a bit slow here so I'm writing in between phone calls and paperwork. I'm on hour 3 of writing this by the way.)
I work with my family's plumbing company. My dad has had this business for more than twenty years now. He's been doin' plumbing for the last thirty years. He is possibly the single greatest influence in my life. I have learned more from the man with a sixth grade education than anyone else. He's been around for more than half a century but still leads a vigorous life. It's been said that he and I are essentially the same person.
I've been called a grumpy old man, a dork, a cowboy, a twelve-year-old boy, a flirt, a rockstar and a couple of four letter words. I am all of these things at one time or another. I think we all are really. People are a bit too complex to be cornered into one label and since I don't wanna limit myself to what I'm gonna be in this blog, I think it's a bit too early to say what it is that I'm gonna be givin' you. I'll do my best to make sure that what you do get is me. 100% me. And the theory on that is that if you like me you'll like the blog. So here's to hopin'. (This is the part where I'd offer you a beer in a frosty mug and we'd say "cheers", clang our glasses together and take a drink. And Willie Nelson playin' in the background as we sit at the bar.)
This is my first attempt at bloggin'. It's not somethin' I ever figured I'd be doin'. I ain't the kind of fella to sit here and spout off 'bout my emotions or cry 'bout whatever asshole in hollywood is on the cover of some tabloid. I don't have weird conspiracy theories bout aliens or gods. I dunno what it is bloggers really do exactly other than get on my nerves. It just seems to me that some asshole tellin' the internet what it is that he thinks is just a jerk lookin' for attention. I ain't that.
I don't really wanna be doin' this. My girlfriend recommended it. She likes listenin' to me rant 'bout things or talk in general. (So, already you know she's a bit odd, right? She is, but she's a great woman anyway.) I figure I can get a lil work in on my writing and maybe, just maybe, get a few people together that might actually pay money to read what i write.
You see, in case you don't know this already, I'm a writer. I write poetry, short stories, I even have a book I'm tryin' to get published. I'm a huge comic book geek and it's really my dream to publish my own comic books. I do a little drawing as well but I'm a bit too lazy to do that full time. I do my writing as often as I can but I also have a regular blue collar job. (I'm workin' right now actually but it's a bit slow here so I'm writing in between phone calls and paperwork. I'm on hour 3 of writing this by the way.)
I work with my family's plumbing company. My dad has had this business for more than twenty years now. He's been doin' plumbing for the last thirty years. He is possibly the single greatest influence in my life. I have learned more from the man with a sixth grade education than anyone else. He's been around for more than half a century but still leads a vigorous life. It's been said that he and I are essentially the same person.
I've been called a grumpy old man, a dork, a cowboy, a twelve-year-old boy, a flirt, a rockstar and a couple of four letter words. I am all of these things at one time or another. I think we all are really. People are a bit too complex to be cornered into one label and since I don't wanna limit myself to what I'm gonna be in this blog, I think it's a bit too early to say what it is that I'm gonna be givin' you. I'll do my best to make sure that what you do get is me. 100% me. And the theory on that is that if you like me you'll like the blog. So here's to hopin'. (This is the part where I'd offer you a beer in a frosty mug and we'd say "cheers", clang our glasses together and take a drink. And Willie Nelson playin' in the background as we sit at the bar.)
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