stormy

Walking down the rain soaked hollywood blvd., I can't help but become sinicle towards the thought of the american dream. Strolling past countless tattoo shops, stores selling an endless assortment of hollywood doo-dads, and window displays featuring stiff strippers dressed in their saturday night best, waiting to pleasure and entice any number of men who might show up, but never do.
Constantly being asked for a quarter. A quarter? Would you still ask me for a quarter if you knew I had only a couple dollars and some change in my pocket, you fucking leech? You probably would. Some people think they are entitled to assistance simply because they need it. What about the ones of us who want to work for theirs?
Was it only a year or so ago that we were all consuming at an all time high, brazingly spending money that we didn't have, thinking the ride would never end.
And now I find myself standing at the crosswalk waiting for the little man to tell me its safe, praying the blond driving her brand new suv will lose control as she is switching to the next bumble gum pop song on her i pod, swerve on the oil slicked, rain covered road, and replace her mercedes emblem with my teeth...

But that's not right. Isn't that just like the kid asking me for a quarter? Looking for an easy way out. Besides, I'll probably just get knocked into a coma, and wake up to medical bills that would make the national deficit look like a weekend loss at vegas.
Besides, it'll all be over soon right? And we'll all be a little wiser because of it? I hope so... I really would like to take me wife out to a nice dinner.

get lost...

I'm not sure if I'm happy about Lost coming to an end, or sad.
For those of you who don't know what Lost is, I feel bad for you. Its a fantantisc show on tv. It's kinda of like Gilligans Island crossed with the Twilight Zone.
Not since the Fresh Prince of Bel Air have I been so hooked on a show that I would run home to catch it.
I find myself in long conversations about the origins of Charles Widmore's anger towards Ben and the others, or why Jack grew such an atrocious beard. What really happened to Claire, and was the island built, or did it simply appear one day.
Before catching the Lost bug, I thought no more of the fans of the series than I did of a Dundgens and Dragons player or someone who memorized the R Kelly Trapped in a Closet videos. But ever since I watched three seasons of Lost in a couple weeks, I tell you I have been a converted man. Its truly a brilliant show, and I don't care who hears me say it. If you have any extra time on your hands I suggest locking the doors, pulling the shades on the windows, unhooking the phone, and letting yourself fall into a "L-hole".
So again, I don't know if I'm happy about getting my life back from being completely engulfed with Lost like I was trapped on the island myself, or if I'm sad to know that reality isn't going to be quite as fun without the smoke monsters, random skips through time, and Darhma Intiative crackers...

cheers and jeers for new years...

2009. Welcome to the new year. I always have the hope to start the new year off with a bang, but it usually starts off, this year included, as sort of a fizzled. No matter the intentions to get the year off to a great and prosperous start, the first is almost always spent in bed with a hangover that just won't seem to go away. I use to think this was because I drank my weight in whiskey and untold absurdities, but now I realize its more of being totally wasted off the previous year. In a year as pain full and morally tiering as 2008, how could we not feel our own soul being totally void of any energy and motivation.
Why is the first day of the year so pain full then? Its like we're getting the middle finger from the universe for all the stress and regrettable feats of overwork, bad diet, and a hope that next year, no matter the political outlook or spiritual outlook, will be "my year". Somehow we all believe we are entitled to a prosperous new year simply because we made it through the last one. We make new year resolutions that don't stick, we clean or house, that just gets dirty, and we evict out all the skeletons in our closet, only to fill it with new fresh corpses.
Let's make this the year that, no matter how high the hops, we feel satisfied with who we are and where we're going not only as professionals and lovers, but as people with the knowledge that the universe does not revolve around us, or for us, but that it revolves because it always has, and it always will. Love to all that love me, and love to all that don't.

here it is...

yet another self indulgent, neuritic blog to let anyone who is somehow so full of extra time that they can search the infinite overly "quippie" blogs that line our virtual streets like so many censored girlie ads on the vegas strip for a new recipes, cool new clothes, or just a release from an oppressed almost genetic fascination with voyeurism. not that i blame you. i think in an age so full of filtered truths and decapitated morals, the only way to find the true essence of what people are actually inspired by is to read every little mundane thought that passes between one's ears, in which a complex series of nerve endings and muscles, translates into anagrams, metaphors and emoticons. what will this blog have that others don't? probably nothing. maybe something. but that's not the point, is it? the point is, there is no point. finding something to stare at and follow over a series of time makes the more obligatory things that fill each day a little more easy to accept; somehow something as little as a well timed distraction, is just what we all need. so enjoy any of the seemingly random things you see and/or read on this blog. it probably wont all be entertaining, but as in life, the hours of picking your proverbial nose for that one golden nugget, when found, is worth all the heartache... or bloody noses.