a tale of horror

when i lived in chicago the networks would replay their morning shows around three in the morning...being the insomniac that i am i would watch because we had four channels and i had no choice...it was almost like watching snuff films...it was the most subversive thing that i could do...these perky airheads coked up on coffee talking to the most irrational erroneous people...they had all these happy housewife activities...it was sick...these women, barren from their husbands' extra-marital flings and emotional emptiness, supply vacuuming and curtain tips to fill their souless voids...it scared the shit out of me...no one should be watching these programs at three in the morning...especially me...

down all the days

the phone was ringing early saturday morning...well actually it was early saturday afternoon but i was sound asleep...the lads were back in town from the western lands..."we will be there in ten minutes" they said...i said, "alright i will put my pants on"...it was clear that this rainy saturday was going to degenerate into a pub crawl...little did i know that it would finish with us outside the house of a police officer at four in the morning (our friends little brother) driving back and forth, honking the horn wildly...so much for the boys being back in town...they always take me to places i would never venture to on my own...i am not the bar hopping type, nor do i enjoy strip clubs, or tootes...people are not my cup of tea...but when the salt of the earth show up, mind you when the salt of the earth with responsible employment show up, i go where the wind takes me...do not misunderstand, my saturday night degeneration is not their fault...i have only myself to blame...after all, they are my friends, i enjoy their company, and would not have it any other way...it is simply a departure from my usual existence...and whenever i accompany them on their journeys to these hole-in-the-wall type establishments there are always weirdos that cling to me...they follow me around all night asking for the meaning of life, or think i understand their hardships...which is strange because i do not see myself projecting this type of aura, and i do not have any insight into any of this shit...but i guess when one is inebriated and looking for a sucker to listen, i am your mark...not because i know any more than said drunk or care so much about them, but simply because i was taught manners and have the ability to listen, which most human beings lack...the more they rambled, the more i asked myself this question...first, if i did have this so called meaning of life would i even be here in this dive drinking cheap beer and listening to this incessant rambling, and second, would i even divulge the meaning of life if i did in fact know it...the answer to both is of course yes...

drizzle away the time

its pretty late, around two in the morning...i cannot sleep tonite, which is really no different than any other night, except the moon, though covered by the clouds and drizzle, is full...and that full moon is making sleep next to impossible...i took allergy medication earlier in the evening because an old rug i was transporting was covered in god knows what and caused incredible sneezing...that allergy medication is now making me tired, but because of the moon and my natural propensity for insomnia, the fatigue i am experiencing has merely turned me into a worthless space cadet...add to that the fact that i haven't had any alcohol for a week or two which always allows my mind to wander...you see i do not like having energy...most people seem to enjoy that feeling of being energized, but i prefer to have potential energy and not kinetic energy...consumption of alcohol saps my energy and makes me more of a miserable bastard...that is why i enjoy it so...but tonite the combo of everything i have mentioned previously has given me this crazed, energetic, floating feeling...yeah i know, most people like that too, but not me...i spend my entire existence trying to feel bland and focused...that is how i like to be...i read my last entry and was ashamed of the writing quality...throughout my formative years, my writing was criticized again and again by many cruel heartless english teachers...i knew my writing was sub-par but i felt that because i was forced to take these classes i should not have been punished for not possessing the gift of grammar...i hate figuring out where the comma should go, and keeping things in one tense, i am more concerned with ideas...i know proper grammar can make things easier to understand, but i am not really interested in making things easier to understand...i do not want people reading something i wrote and thinking about what grammatical errors i have committed...to me that is missing the point of writing something in the first place...someone's writing can be exceptional but they can be saying absolutely nothing...that being said, my writing is exceptionally flawed, and i am sorry if understanding it can be painful...i know paragraphs and commas, all those sort of things correctly placed would help, but i am too old and too lazy to try and remember all those particular rules...i am a writing slob...i think i will float up to the ceiling now and leave all you good people to your rest...my rambling has ended...see you soon...

the modern savage

i should really write something today...even though this is only meaningless prose, i worry that after a few days my six readers get a little antsy and maybe will not return...there have been some things i have wanted to write about but when i begin they never come out correctly...the first thing i wanted to examine was the effect that capitalism has on every aspect of society...i've been thinking deeply about this lately, however whenever i try and put my thoughts into words the result is pretentious drivel...as i mentioned in my last paragraph, i do not dislike capitalism, and it is a perfect institution for humans because of their innate selfishness...however, it lends itself to many problems and pitfalls as well...it is essential for capitalism to make everything a commodity and it therefore devalues entire aspects of life...there is a side of life that contains health, art, music, and spiritual belief...these are dangerous things to commodify...i will deal with health in another rant but today will stick to true mysteries which in their perfect forms exists outside of the realm of materialism...capitalism, which pushes its nose into all aspects of existence, corrupts these things and produces a bland and sauteed version of these gifts...the result is the deterioration of society...by embracing vastly imperfect forms, one dulls the senses and closes the door to a more perfect life...ahh, the question then becomes, if this guano sells, it is by nature more popular, and because it is embraced so readily by the masses, it must be good...and that is the fallacy of democracy...democracy is majority rules...you can shape it anyway you like, but the notion that the majority is always correct is quite frightening...letting "the great unwashed" as jefferson called them decide and dictate to the rest of us is patently ridiculous...and to assume that because they embrace ashley simpson she is a recording artist is equally as laughable...she is a recording nightmare...now i am not condemning these ashley simpson lovers or lovers of other mind-raking bubble turds, what i am saying first is that this is not art, and these people are not artists, which is simply a matter of semantics and secondly that all of this crap should not be pushed, peddled, and prodded onto us like we are rats in a cage...these celebrities should not be envied and emulated, they should be seen for what they are, two-bit hack entertainers...i enjoy mindless entertainment too, but i do not revere these people...the cult of the celebrity has grown to mammoth proportions...it has become a monster that is eating its way through the heartland like saint paul's misguided teachings about jesus...and simply because these folks, along with their fellows in the south, are controlling this country and likewise my life with the iron grip of a masturbatory teen, does not make them right...now do not get me wrong, i am also a talentless hack with nary a good idea...that is why i am ranting to a loyal six readers (whom i love of course)...however, i do not flaunt myself on m.t.v., in easter parades, or in some pretentious little coffeshop (nor would they let me, to everyone's relief)...however, there are many people with talent that can't get a break, and their studio time, publishing presses, arenas, and churches are being clogged with the coagulating remains of the beautiful, the vacant, the talentless, and the vapid...i suppose this rant went on too long and some of you might find this somewhat pretentious, but i assure you that was not the intention...and maybe the majority of the folkals are correct and i am wrong...if so i will recant on my deathbead...i guess i will see you there...

galway bay

i am thinking about galway tonite...i miss going to the local off-license and buying some cans of murphy's or a bottle of wine, maybe a pint of whiskey and walking down to the bay...i would sit there among the garbage and weeds and stare at the outgoing tide...the bay, at least in galway city, is not as picturesque as the endless songs make it out to be...but then i suppose the irish could make anything out to be beautiful...i would spend afternoons out on the wind swept plains wasting a sweatered summer...some days the melancholy of the spanish slaves of old would take me in, other days the spirit of the whiskey would corrupt me, and sometimes i would end up simply being me...what a strange time that was...my favourite pub was nestled away from the main city though still lively...every night the forks and spoons would hit the glasses and some rusty old soul would stand up and recite poetry or sing a song from memory...this could go on for awhile and i would just sit back, close my eyes, and enjoy...that is what is lacking in the states, both sincerity and knowledge...i suppose if you cannot put a price on it, it does not exist in this place...that is fine with me, i am not complaining, but it is an observation that i just cannot overlook...are you wasting your time? is there money to be made off this?...why are you doing that if you can't sell it?...these are all valid questions i suppose, and that is why i guess i will never be successful at anything...but hey i am not concerned...just point me in the direction of the ocean, float me back to galway bay, rest me underneath the spanish arch, carry me to the crow bar, and i will once again be free...

into the inferno

last night i came across a random picture of an ex-girlfriend on the web...it was already one of those nights i wanted to forget...where the endless monotony of the days and the realization of my own futile existence had driven me to my knees...and there she was staring back at me from the screen...suddenly all the beer i had consumed drove itself into a tight little ball in my stomach and squeezed...it wasn't about her so much, though of all the girls i've known she was my favourite...it was just the emptiness of the situation...it had that 'wait a minute i know her' type of feeling, and then when i thought a minute more i realized...no i don't know her...i haven't seen her in three years, was i ever even with this girl...man what a waste...every single one of these girls are gone...i am sure they are living good lives somewhere but for me they are gone...deceased...its like remembering an apparition that may or may not have existed at all...is my memory playing tricks...is this just another nameless girl on this earth...well i guess she wasn't just another nameless girl at one time and that time still exists somewhere...but it doesn't exist here...i went off to bed remembering those days...for whatever it was worth...

one from a million dead souls

i was really down in the dumps today scrolling through different blogs here on blogger dot com...most of them were just crap...then i started thinking, if these blogs are crap than my blog is probably crap too...no that couldn't be...my blog is much more important than a soccer mom's, a dad who loves his boys, some lesbian, many jesus freaks, and a gay anglican...well it probably isn't any better, but just when i was at the depths of despair and ready to scrap the whole bloody lot of my writings i came across a good one...thank god...would you like to know whose it was?...maybe i won't tell you...maybe i will just let you sift through hours and hours of miserable prose from people who love jewel's poetry, people who take the bible literally, and people writing in a language you can't understand...then you will know how my morning was...

deadbeat existence

its a rainy friday afternoon...it is nice to see the rain again...i havent had much to write about lately...in the past i never understood why people would get depressed over birthdays and holidays though i was always intrigued...every year for mysterious reasons some of the happiest people i knew would just go into a hole...well now, i am afraid, i know some of this sadness...it is hard to describe the feeling, but it is somewhat like pure realization without the bliss...when you get behind the bliss, there is something else there...it is naked reality, and the realization is not always a welcome one...when you realize the timelessness of all things and your place in this neverending ancient consciousness it can be far beyond what an untrained observer should be allowed to experience...and it is quite disturbing...the true meaninglessness of existence combined with the meaning that we as human beings put upon it is quite amazing...i was looking through all the funerary cards that i have compiled and i read the names and remembered the people...those so vastly important to me, but within a generation all will be lost...all memory of who they were, what they did, all the important quirks of their personality...everything lost even though consciousness pervades...the rain keeps falling on this friday afternoon as i remember a dream i had about a friend of mine that had died the previous autumn...we were sitting in a room having a party with all our living friends and him...everyone else went out for a smoke and we stayed in alone...i made some small talk and he did the same, as if i was afraid to ask him what i wanted and he was waiting for me to ask...finally i did..."so what's it like?"...he answered almost tragically, "what's it like for you being alive?"...and i realized at that moment it was no different, no better or worse to be alive or dead...it was really just a different aspect of the same thing...and although this realization was liberating in a way, it just made me sorry...this was it, this boredom would go on forever...i looked up into his eyes and noticed he only had half pupils...half of a yin-yang...we are all just sad-ole manifestations of a greater existence...made up of stuff from the beginning and the end...so when i blew out the candles at the end of september i finally realized why people get depressed on their birthday...