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Showing posts from May, 2015

Randomness For a Sunny Afternoon

The past couple of weeks really have been crazy.  What's really crazy is that I have been able to, since they have happened, step outside of myself and see the events of the past two weeks detached from my self and have come to realize that there is nothing in the events themselves that was significant.

Which is to say that, for all intents and purposes, ALL of my life could be that crazily awesome if I would just let go sometimes and live the fucking thing, ya know?

Aside from the wicked weekend of epiphanies set to music (detailed in an earlier post)...I actually saw some great bands last weekend (or was it the weekend before? Yeah, the weekend before Memorial Day weekend).

Here's the list:

Friday (for the low, low price of a groupon):Joan Jett and the BlackheartsThe WhoSaturday (for the kindness of strangers):Haelstorm (partial)Anthrax (partial)Nick (somebody...was doing a Dimebag Darrel tribute)Balsac (the Jaws of Death from GWAR)Rival SonsMotionless in WhiteVolbeatTech N9n…

Huh, Writers Are People, Too

I'm going to start this post with something I never do. Which is to say, something I'm sure I've done in a past post, but have completely forgotten by this point and am quite entirely too lazy to go back and look through past posts and check.

Dear Universe,
I got it. Seriously. Finding out that my neighbor has been published should have been an indicator that yes, real people do, in fact get published, too. It might have been heavy handed to have me show up to an engagement party and have me interact and meet with a friend of theirs who is also a published author.

No...for real (check it out here). And to top it off...he does the whole first initial middle name thing. As if that wasn't really the third piece of 'ok I fucking get it' that I needed, not sure what was.

And here's the funny part. I write. It's in my blood. I talk about it more than I should, I'm sure. And this particular friend of the two friends that were having the cookout, was never …

You're Probably Sorta Racist, Too

Racial Bias. Prejudice. Racial Privilege. They go back to fear.

I want to wake up one day in a society where fear is not the norm. Where we are not fed fear morning, noon, and night by the industry that is supposed to be informing us of what's going on in the world. Or shown reasons to be afraid by the people that are supposed to protect and serve us. Or being explicitly told along party lines just what the fuck we should be afraid of if that other party makes it in to office.

Seriously. What the fuck?!

I was born in 1971. So, pretty much half of my childhood was spent in the 70's and the rest was spent in the 80's. And I grew up exposed to racism and prejudice in my every day life. And I knew it wasn't quite right. I spent my summers in the eastern Appalachian hills of Kentucky. I learned what a nigger was before I ever saw one (to be honest, I'm still not quite sure I've seen a nigger). My papaw was someone who would go out of his way to help anyone that need…

Just Three Things

I'm going to go on a bit of a rant here. And I'm going to contradict something that many of you probably take as Gospel.

I work for a retail company. I don't work on the retail side of the company, I'm in IT. But I did. For three years I worked on the retail side. I have also worked in Food Service, which in many ways is worse than working in retail.  I have also worked for a software company that delivered customer service solutions for Fortune 1000 companies. So...I have a bit of experience in Retail and Customer Service.

And I'm here to tell you...the customer is NOT always right.

Sometimes the customer is a narcissistic asshole.

I was in a local retailer this evening, checking out my items in the self-serve area. There are six check-out stations and one store employee to manage the customer service duties for up to six customers at a time. Six. This can be daunting during a rush (where all stations are occupied and there is a mounting line of customers waiting …

A Weekend of Epiphanies*

*or rather, one epiphany that was continually reinforced throughout the weekend.


It's a funny word. Very similar in appearance (and many many other ways to 'bless').

Bliss may mean different things to different people. And many may think they have experienced bliss. I think it's important for a person to have a clear understand of what bliss means to them before they set out trying to find it (and for the purposes of knowing what it is when it hits their life).

For me, bliss is the following:
A moment where time ceases to have any meaning and for which I am connected to the cosmic consciousness and experiencing love in its purest elemental form as the foundation of the universe.

The epiphany this weekend came in the following gift. I identified a handful of things which bring or have brought me bliss at one point in my life or another.

And it started this weekend with The Who.

I got a groupon to see The Who at Nationwide Arena in Columbus, OH.  The groupon was t…

A Day In the Life of Awesomesauce

So...yeah. I'm going to start by...shit...hold on...

Had to trim my nails. I swear I never had to do that before I got this dental work in my lower front. Something about biting my nails or something. But yeah. If they are too long I can't type or play guitar. Which..for the guitar I guess it's probably why I don't play as often...but the writing...shit. I have to do that.

One sentence in and I'm digressing. Brilliant.

But it is characteristic of how uncharacteristically awesome this day is. So...I start this morning by heading to the Dr. Not my normal doc, but the surgeon I've been seeing for my neck issues. And by surgeon I mean the third surgeon I spoke with.  The first one emanated quite the dick vibe. The second one was the Laser Spine Institute. I have to be honest...I was pretty excited about them. Until I found out they couldn't actually give me a laser spine. I mean, what the shit? That's just shoddy advertising.

The third doc. Yes. The second …

Separate Not Equal

I struggle with this. This feeling. This post is probably going to offend someone. Someone else will probably call the post or its author a racist, privileged white suburbanite sitting in his white bread all-American apartment on Main Street, USA far removed from the very real struggles of race that are facing our nation in cities across America. Some very prominent on the news, others boiling just under the surface, ready to explode at a moment's notice.

Maybe that's true. Maybe I am a racist. I don't think that I am. I would like to think that I have moved past judging someone based on the color of their skin. But maybe I haven't.

I don't think there is any question that our government and institutions of this nation are (and/or were) built on a foundation of white privilege (take a good look at the original draft of the Constitution if you doubt this).

I remember as a young child in elementary school, my first experience with someone who had different color skin…

Slowly Waking Up

43 years is a long time to be asleep. And to be fair...I'm not completely asleep. And yet, there are times when the facade of this world holds on with such tenacity that I almost believe its real.

Case in point. Fight Club.  I finished reading it and instantly made a list of shit I didn't need in my apartment (or my life) anymore. The obvious target was the Blu Ray movie 'library' that has been sitting in the corner gathering dust.

That's the stack of what they bought. The money I received from the disks was put to better use than pieces of plastic sitting idly by. They sent me home with about 6 of the disks I took. But of course there was about 20 movies...OK 40 (20 on Blu-Ray and 20 or so on DVD) that I talked myself in to holding on to. know...they meant something to me. And who knows. Maybe they do. Or maybe that's the illusion of this world not willing to let me walk away from abject consumerism.

There is not one single movie on that shelf tha…


So, if you've seen Inside The Actor's Studio, you'll recognize these questions. They originated on a French talk show hosted by Bernard Pivot. It might be kind of a cop out, but I figure it's a bit of insight in to me. Perhaps I will expand each answer in to a separate post. Because, you know, I know you really want to see how fucked up my brainbucket really is.
Without further ado...
What is your favorite word? CreativityWhat is your least favorite word? NiggerWhat turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally? To know my work has inspired others to be creative.What turns you off? MediocrityWhat is your favorite curse word? FuckWhat sound or noise do you love? A child's laughterWhat sound or noise do you hate? The dentist's drillWhat profession other than your own would you like to attempt? Game show hostWhat profession would you not like to do? Police OfficerIf Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? "…

Papa's Got a Brand New...Cliche?

Fans of the show* will know that I love bags. In the sense that I have a shit ton of them. And by love I mean that I have a shit ton of them. I don't know that it's actual love per se but it's at the very least abject consumerism.

I could blame Madison Ave. or the advertising powers that be, but the truth of the matter is, this one is all me. I'm not sure when it actually started, but I have this...thing. It's a quest, but not nearly as noble as that of Arthurian legend. No, this quest is to find the perfect bag. And case But it's not just a one-off thing. You see...there is the perfect bag for when I'm on a business trip. There's the perfect bag for everyday carting my MacBook to work and what not. And that I have a Chromebook (which has become my go-to day to day electronic writing tool of choice), I need kind of a day bag for that, too. And by day bag, I mean old school messenger bag.

There are probably worse obsessions I could have. In fa…