Poop!

Just in time for Spring, I've made peace with my African roomie.

My mom came and visited me for a day. It was nice. She left this morning.

Winds of change. Dust in the wind. Take me to the four corners of the earth and let me stand and gaze in amazement at the valleys and peaks. The highs and the lows. Forthcoming madness shall most likely ensue. Only the devil wags his tail in delight.

War lords and individualists mingle casually in blood born streets giving capitalists cause to jump with glee while staining my nation's flag on thorns and rocks and sticks.

Little do you know that the craziest is yet to come!

I had a blog on myspace before I erased it. It became a conversation with myself and my silent readers about who on earth all these people were reading my posts. Unfortunately, myspace doesn't allow you to add statcounter to your HTML code and thereby find out who the hell or at least where the hell people are accessing your site from. I'm afraid this site, newly renamed "Screw You" is going to turn into what my last one did.

Since statcounter is unable to tell me who visited my site yesterday with any specific info at all, of any sort - only tells me someone looked at it from the same computer as they did the day before and even that is only evident in the bar graph that greets me; and that is all - I wonder what the hell or who the hell this is!

I speak harshly of this and warn of that but to think that some sleuthing force is fumbling through my pages on an almost daily basis is discouraging. I am a tax payer and feel silly for writing things that a government analyst would find intriguing. This site has existed for a couple of years; it says a lot about me; a lot that I wouldn't normally share with anyone! That is why this blog exists. To enlighten strangers to my struggles, fears, and epiphanies. Little more.

Accessing my site from an unnamed government building, the cracking sleuth reads carefully my words. He or she enters into a permanent record my points and issues. All for what the writer inquires? Who punches your time card mystery reader? Is this worth your trouble?

Without leaving a cent of info other than your visit, my friend, statcounter, has alerted me to your almost daily presence. Very sophisticated you must be to enter my site and be counted but nothing more. Perhaps you are statcounter yourself! But I doubt it.

In other news, the weather is getting better. My job prospects are shitty. Sobriety is pleasantly uplifting. I haven't gone without drinking and smoking for years. Total abstinence is a trip. Drinking used to replace smoking. Smoking used to replace drinking. Sometimes they ran right along side one another. But for the first time, neither can replace the other.

I laugh more. I cry more. I feel I am able to speak and articulate my feelings better. My deterent to relapsing is not only my favorable personality changes but also my unwillingness to submit to those people I used to hang out with. I didn't really like them, and vice-versa.

So a life of sobriety after all these years? I don't know. But this is certainly shaping up to be a positive experience!

This fuckin' old crabby bitch in here with her new born baby talkin on the cell phone throwin magazines around her keyboard talking about getting her work done; bitch please. You had that kid to give yourself special license to do what you're doing: acting like a self-important bitch. I fuckin' told her there's a rule against using cell phones in the library to which she was all like oh I'm sorry to have disturbed you in this sarcastic tone as if what I'm doing isn't as important as what she's doing.

Which brings me to my next point which is that people with children have a serious god complex! BEWARE!!! My mom told me herself that her faith in god almighty was greatly intensified the day she had me. Ah, the miracle of life. Most anyone can do it... And that's why I don't think much of people who have. They think that just because they've created life they now have some glaring insight into others' lives which gives them license to gossip and judge and boss other people around. It's all a crock of shit!

May that be today's lesson: It's all a crock of shit!

Don't forget...........

I sat there, unenthused; never thinking I could be so turned on by a woman with such small tits. The air was a little cold and my nostrils ached with displeasure. I opened a snack and took off for home. On the way, a big cougar ran in my path. I almost wished I'd run over it.

"Let go of me," I screamed. "Let go of me you brute! Let go of me you whore! Let go of me you Nazi! Let go of me you piece of shit! Let go! Let go! Let go!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Your threats are weak and your wine is even weaker. Grow some melons and sell them at the co-op you ape. Make milk from chalk and screw lightbulbs for a living. "Take the bull by the horns," I told her. A week later, she was gone. Putrid filth is what they expel, putrid filth and rotting death. I am neither a critic nor a thief these days. Your blades of grass become you.

Once I took a nap in a cemetary without taking notice of the name on the stone where I rested my head. Once up, I realized I'd been sleeping on top of Mr. Doolittle; that was really his name! I couldn't believe it! Perhaps there is a god................

Up with the sun and down with the out. Leftover spoils of war rot in the trashcan milking poor mothers' of their dairy bones.

A gang of white boys and some honey on her leg. A letter written in the back room sent to a prisoner. Fried chicken and booze for all but one. An empty hug. A silent Sunday. A haunting forlorn goodbye.

Chapter after chapter are all coming to an end in quick succession. All aspects of my life are not changing but ending. What damning force of synchronicity is it?

A clown with dozens of cars. A supervisor with a stack of resumes. A Yankee with more friends than myself. A landlord with too much on his plate. A drug test that came back false-positive. A mom and dad who have been incommunicado for the last 2 weeks.

I must get this job. I must, I must, I must!

I just went to a job interview. I was interviewed by the most beautiful Filipina woman I have ever seen. And this is peculiar because my current love interest is a Filipina clown with boobs the size of grapefruits. After returning from Korea, I had a very negative opinion of Asians in general (see prior posts from a year or two ago), especially women. But with the help of Little L., I have overcome my hatred and actually become quite fond of Asian women, specifically Filipinas. Filipinas are great because they combine the beauty of Asian women with busty, short bodies. They've got curves baby, beautiful curves and with an Asian face to match! My god!! I believe I have caught the Filipina strain of 'Yellow Fever'.

I took my clown to a sauna once and a mixed breed guy came in as we were waiting for our sauna room to be cleaned and sanitized. I believe he is what our son would look like if we had one. He had tattooed both his arms giving him sleeves. I wonder if L. thought the same thing.

If it weren't for L., I wouldn't be the person I have become today. I might still hate those with slanty eyes. Thankfully, I no longer do. :)

I think I hit him twice. The first time wasn't strong though I hit him as hard as I could. The second time I hit him though, there was something else, a stronger force. This is what it looked like!

I'm at the library again. Sitting next to, not the first but the second, little nigger of the day. With their peach fuzz mustaches and their hats turned backwards, these 13 year old kids sickeningly remind me of myself. What putrid filth their lungs must expel. These are not the cute 8 year old types, these are the 13 year olds goddamn-it! Looking at pictures of myself from this time in my life is incredibly embarrasing. But it was either that or wear turtlenecks and part my hair in the middle like mommy wanted.

Don't get me wrong, mommy was an understanding woman who let me express myself in many surprising and inventive ways but at that age there was little to choose from as far as 'styles' went. Bugle Boy shirts were a short lived solution as I recall. Then, years later, the so called 'Hennley' or Fat Tony type of shirts which still dog my laundry to this day.

Walking around naked is an insane option since I am a shrinkage type of dude. Which brings me to a question I know will go unanswered since nobody reads this thing: Is not wearing underwear disgusting? If so, why?

I haven't worn underwear in years. I never have shit in my crack because I wipe well. Every once in awhile my dick will let one last drop of piss go after I've already zipped up and left but who's to say that wasn't there from me washing my hands?!?! I shower daily. I do not exercise and therefore do not sweat. I do my laundry rather frequently. So what's the big deal? I don't like that extra layer between myself and the world; I think it is unnecessary when given my cleanliness.

I listened to a Bob Marley CD this morning before I rolled out of bed and was intrigued by track 4 which speaks of chasing them crazy bald heads outta town. Bob talks about him being the one who works and plants the corn and wasn't it his family before him that slaved for this country? And now [the bald heads] look at him with that scorn, and they eat up all his corn, he's gonna chase those crazy bald heads outta town.

So I live with this guy from Ghana, an African nation, who shaves his head so he is bald. He does not work. He has a 2 year old daughter with a white woman who has custody of her. He is, in short, a dead-beat father. But the fact that he looks at me with scorn and carries himself as though he is more of a man is ludicrous! I'd like to chase that crazy bald head outta the house!!

I was about to move into this place but I would've had a real bitch to deal with. As it is now, I live with 3 other dudes. Only one of them do I really feel any kindredness with but there is no drama. The house is really nice but it's in suburbia and far away from my job. The apartment I was going to take a room in was close to downtown and really close to my job; there was a washer and dryer in the apartment and it had a great view. But there was a problem. A problem I long to overlook but last night things came to a head. I sent a text message asking if the room was cleaned out and ready for me to move in. I didn't get an answer. Instead I was asked if I'd take a smaller room I hadn't even seen since one of the guys there wanted to change rooms. Long story short, I called her a bitch and hung up. A half hour later, she wrote me a couple text messages apologizing and saying the offer still stood and that I could have the room we'd agreed on weeks ago. I told her I'd sleep on it and that I'd probably take it. But after sleeping on it, I've realized that my life is bitch free and though the location is good, why ruin my mellow by sharing space with the biggest bitch I've met since moving here? So I'm staying put.

I've smoked, I've smoked and it was just last night! Just part of one bowl, it couldn't be helped!!! Today I must pass your test and I won't. We talk at a coffee table outside a building like this library as he smokes his cigarette. I go back inside and toss the blanket that was draped on my shoulders onto the floor out of spite. I encounter Nicole at the reception desk and have a serious attitude to match her own.

My other dream was a little shorter, not that the last one was long. I had a couple beers at my favorite bar and that too is against the rules so I woke up feeling like I was in trouble but fortunately, it was just a dream.

In other news, I got my $60 back from her highness. She looked pretty darn good for an old mexican broad, I'd fuck her. She's petite and makes lots of eye contact.

After I left her realm I went to a chain-Italian restaurant and was waited on by a Mongolian goddess named Tonya. She was gorgeous. I woke up this morning wondering how I could justify having left her such a big tip. But that's what I do with my money! I give it to beautiful women! It cannot be helped. Oh well.

Someone in New York, New York finds my blog interesting. They spent 22 hours and 39 minutes reading my rants. I wonder if they are a plagiarist. Wouldn't it be an aweful kick in the pants to find your life story in hardback at the bookstore? That would be tragic. But maybe it would be cool. Afterall, who knows if I could ever get published on my own accord and though I would be ripped off from the royalties, at least my words would make it further out there into the cosmos which is a flattering thought to die with. And hell, fame corrupts and ruins lives all the time. Not to say that I don't think I could handle it, I could!

In other news, I received a call this morning from her highness telling me she owes me $60! "Yay!" I exclaimed. "Wooo-hooo!" I even shouted not once but twice. I appreciate her honesty. What puzzles me is what brought her attention to the oversight/mistake. Was there an audit? Or perhaps her majesty has decided, in conjunction with my treatment program, to set me free which would result in my not having to sit and stare at my finger-nails for the next 5 months. But by posting this, I have seriously jinxed the liklihood of this happening. Oh well. To be honest, I feel better; I might even start exercising *egad*...

There's this guy who is always here at the library where I post from. He's a bonnified germ-a-phobe. He looks part asian for whatever that's worth. He uses tissue to touch everything including the mouse which I'd never noticed before today. You see, he's sitting beside me. He wears a hat like an african but it's old and worn. It looks more like fabric I've seen woven from Guatemala but who knows? It's your standard sphere without brim. He tucks his sweatpants into his socks and stands pensively. Today he is busy printing out information I see. Good for him; he doesn't use a tissue to retrieve the paper from the tray.

In other news, I am moving soon; starting over but not really. I'll be very close to downtown which is what I've wanted. Until now I've been in suburbia though my new abode reminds me more of an Aspen resort than a city flat. It's on the side of a steep, tall hill and the deck looks out over a great expanse of space and area. Sadly, it doesn't face downtown itself as I am relatively sure other ones do though it is still a great view.

I have three windows in my new room as opposed to the one I have now.

This shit is neurotic! I open my eyes and see and hear the devil insulting me. Saying the worst. Uttering insults. I guess it's always been this way. The faces and names change but I guess things remain the same. Whether slanty asian eyes or piercing german one's it seems that there's always someone with a superiority complex waiting to take you for a ride. Fuck Germans and fuck Koreans. They suck.

What else do I have to say today? I went and saw Borat last nite and enjoyed it thoroughly. What a hoot! I found everyone funny: Borat, his country, the USA, everything. It was uproarious! I lol many times. The picture below is like a snapshot from my past. This movie touched me in so many ways. What a great, great film!







Also, a word of warning. I have now known and lived with quite a few native Africans and something has revealed itself that is present in all of them. They always ask me for money! And when I refuse they find ways to punish me. Africans expect me to just give them money after they tell me their sob story. Fuck that! I give my money to women with big hooters; that's it. So next time an African befriends you with his seeming kindness and soft spoken manner, don't forget that he is going to ask you for money and your answer will determine the course your friendship takes.

I knew it was happening but there was little I could do about it. I tried to understand but the feeling came and went. Up in the air like the smoke she expelled from her mouth. Back in the crack and the roots went cold and dead. A big bottle of Weed-B-Gone is what this was. Only a dandelion would comprehend this post.

All sunlight faltered and the great spirit looked the other way. Well, that's a lie. The great spirit is at my beckon call. Why did I lie then you may ask. Well, unfortunately, I'm just rambling unholy gibberish as I warned you I would several posts ago. Nearly everyone in school knew what was going on but there was nothing anyone could do about it. The days turned into weeks, the weeks into months, and before I knew it 2 years had passed. The only thing that had changed was the weather; that and my beer belly had grown a little.

Every day I'd do my part. Imparting wisdom and making smoke rings in the wind. Out of the clear blue sky came a bird chirping nonsense. I felt vulnerable and looked to see if I had any bread or crackers in my car. Sure enough I found some food and offered it lovingly. The bird nonchalantly picked at it and flew away.