10 pounds ‘o blog

hogmanay

9pm on Saturday, December 31st…………the last day of 2005. Its already 06 on the east coast and the weather is moist. Its been raining since about 2pm this afternoon and I have not been able to get much done all day. I’m not sure if it is an issue of motivation or laziness or just that the weather is less than ideal and that its amateur night in the fairy hood. Life aint great now, but its much improved and I just don’t feel like hitting the road to celebrate.

This morning I hit the Huddle and killed a steak and the NY Times, did some programming and web trolling, took a nap, watched a movie, went to Whole Foods, had a lamb curry from the paki stand around the corner, ate some cheesecake and had some champagne, called Lub again and didnt leave a voice mail, tried to read book, downloaded the new Dre cd and gave it a listen and wondered about why I should go out tonight and why I shouldn’t.

It’s raining and chilly.
Transportation is a bitch and there isn’t much but gay bars around.
Paying a cover and fighting the crowds is a pain.
I got a little drunk last night so why repeat it?
I’m not sure where the party is and my friend is awol.

So I think that i may be staying in tonight. Fuck it, why not? Why fight the crowds and deal with inflated prices and fight for a taxi. There is nothing wrong with staying in tonight, especially since I would be going out just for the fact that it is New Years Eve.

Oh and its my birthday too.

I feel that if you get into a tiff with someone and the shit hits the fan and gets blown far out of proportion and the opportunity presents itself to work it all out, sack the fuck up and work it out. If that means saying you are sorry, even if you feel you don’t need to, do it in the spirit of friendship. This is crux of the situation I find myself in. I need to give a little advice here, say you are fucking sorry. You spat some harsh shit, admit it, whether you think you were justified or not, say you are sorry. It will grease the wheels. Taking that a step further, if you hear the other say it, the last thing you want to do is affirm that it wasn’t your fault. Say you are fucking sorry. It’s easy, open your snide mouth and get those words rolling out. Hearing an apology and not reciprocating is like having sex with one of your cousins just because she is really hot. Its not done no matter how good it makes you feel.

10pound OUT!

quiddity

There comes a time when a man seriously contemplates his place in the cosmos, his life, his work, his legacy. Did I do anything at all worth remembering? Did I live up to my potential? Did I wrestle alligators and kill the six-fingered man who murdered my father? One might think that being ME, charged with the awesome responsibility of bringing shits and giggles to dozens of people worldwide, would erase such anxieties. Not so. Doubts and worries abound. Why do I do what I do? Do I make a difference at all? Maybe there’s a kid out there at the end of his rope, on the verge of doing something terrible, whose tragic path could be averted with a well-timed pimp joke. Like Schindler, I wonder: How many lives could I have saved with one more punchline about bitches and hoes? How many lost souls, how many broken hearts, desperate for a laugh, could I reach with a shake of of that fine ass? What more could I have done? And for the love of Zeus where in the world is the six-fingered man???

apposite

Ok so lately I have been thinking of marriage. As odd as that sounds I have also been thinking about religion (although not as seriously and mostly negatively).

Given that, I thought I would post the following…..

Top 15 Biblical Ways To Find A Wife

1. Find an attractive prisoner of war, bring her home, shave her head, trim her nails and give her new clothes. Then she’s yours. (Deuteronomy 21:10-13)

2. Find a prostitute and marry her. (Hosea 1:1-3)

3. Find a man with seven daughters, and impress him by watering his flock. (Moses in Exodus 2:16-21)

4. Purchase a piece of property, and get a woman as part of the deal. (Boaz in Ruth 4:5-10)

5. Go to a party and hide. When the woman comes out to dance, grab one and carry her off to be your wife. (Benjamites in Judges 21:19-25)

6. Have God create a wife for you while you sleep. (Adam in Genesis 2:19-24)

7. Agree to work seven years in exchange for a woman’s hand in marriage. Get tricked into marrying the wrong woman. Then work another seven years for the woman you wanted to marry in the first place. That’s right, 14 years of toil for Mrs. Right. (Jacob in Genesis 29:15-30)

8. Cut 200 foreskins of your future father-in-law’s enemies and get his daughter for a wife. (David in I Samuel 18:27)

9. Even if no one is out there, just wander around a bit and you’ll definitely find someone. It’s all relative, of course. (Cain in Genesis 4:16-17)

10. Become the emperor of a huge nation and hold a beauty contest. (Xerxes in Esther 2:3-3)

11. Kill my husband and take HIS wife (prepare to lose 4 sons, though). (David in 2 Samuel 11)

12. When you see someone you like, go home and tell your parents, “I have seen a woman. Now get her for me as a wife.” If your parents question your decision, simply say, “Get her for me. She is the one for me.” (Samson in Judges 14:1-3)

13. Wait for your brother to die. Take his widow. (Onan-Genesis 39:8)

14. Don’t be so picky. Make up for quality with quantity. (Solomon 1 Kings11:1-3)

15. A wife?…not!!! (Paul in 1 Corinthians 7:31-35)

Hmmm……………thats some advice, not good advice but it is advice of some sort.

I think I will stick with what my heart tells me, its been working well lately.

tetragrammaton

Do I offend you?
How?
Because I want to praise the glory of the sunrise
And weep at the beauty of its setting?
Because my heart leaps at my loved one’s approach
And beats passionately in time with hers?

Are you offended?
How?
When your eyes register nothing but stark reality
And sunset is just another scientific fact.
When your heart is numbed by liquid amber
And beats merely to the ticking of a clock.

blythe

After getting sloshed on egg nog, being shunned by relatives and passing out under the plastic tree, I woke up this morning feeling empty inside. It’s not because the baby Jesus has forsaken me, but because I never received a Christmas card from 50 Cent.

Life hurts ya know?

I did get the only I really wanted though. It was the ONLY thing I got but it was totally worth it. Second chances are rare wonderful things.

vainglory

The entertainment industry’s been aiming for some time to plug the “analog hole” — the point at which audio and video has to be unencrypted to allow for playback on analog devices. Back in November, Hollywood told a congressional hearing that it should force consumer electronics manufacturers to make their devices respond to two forms of copy protection to plug the hole, killing off plenty of fair use in the process. We hoped then that Congress wouldn’t fall for it, but somebody’s bitten, hook, line and sinker, introducing the exact bill the entertainment industry wanted (via Boing Boing). What makes this bill so particularly insidious — beyond its wanton destruction of fair use — is that it sounds like would criminalize circumventing the copy protection, regardless of the end purpose. And, as an added kicker, the head of our favorite government agency, the US Patent and Trademark Office, gets to make determinations on the technology involved — something at which they display their incompetence regularly. So, fair use becomes fair game for the likes of the MPAA and RIAA to sue you, and/or have you prosecuted. All this bill will do is increase the price of electronics and punish everyday people — professional, criminal pirates will move on unabated — while stifling innovation. Who wins? Hollywood, of course. They’re paying the bills, after all.

melange

I’m not just a boy toy. I have feelings and dreams like anybody else.

The people of NYC simply love and adore my impromptu sex-face making

hale

Change my attempt good intentions

Crouched over
You were not there
Living in fear
But signs were not really that scarce
Obvious tears
But I will not
Hide you through this
I want you to help
And please see
The bleeding heart perched on my shirt

Die, withdraw
Hide in cold sweat
Quivering lips
Ignore remorse
Naming a kid, living wasteland
This time you’ve tried
All that you can turning you red

Change my attempt good intentions
Should I, could I
Here we are with your obsession
Should I, could I

Crowned hopeless
The article read living wasteland
This time you’ve tried
All that you can turning you red
but I will not
Hide you through this
I want you to help

Change my attempt good intentions
Should I, could I

Here we are with your obsession
Should I, could I

Heave the silver hollow sliver
Piercing through another victim
Turn and tremble be judgmental
Ignorant to all the symbols
Blind the face with beauty paste
Eventually you’ll one day know

Change my attempt good intentions
Limbs tied, skin tight
Self inflicted his perdition

Should I, could I
Change my attempt good intentions
Should I, could I
Should I, could I

tmesis

When I woke up this morning, I didn’t know where I was. It was dark and too warm and the air was a bit….funky. By that I mean it didn’t smell very nice. To be honest, it smelled awful, like an old person’s room. The smell of death and shit hung heavy and it frightened me some. It was about this time that I realized it was my hotel room near Duke university. I drank too much the night before and coupled with a dietary intake consisting of the local cuisine, fried and battered and somewhat disgusting, my body was revolting by expunging great amounts of gas. I stare hard at the alarm clock, the garish red numbers displaying 12:00 noon. I refuse to believe this and search for my cell that I swear I lost last night but find on my desk. The cell mirrors the alarm clock and I am dismayed and suddenly in a state of panic. I would like to sleep longer but the Librium I took at dawn has worn off and my mouth and throat are dry and rough. It is unbearable and I drag myself out of bed and stumble into the bathroom. I relieve myself and start digging through my travel bag for the pill bottles I brought. I find one of the bottles I need and pull out a green and black capsule. I stare it intently as if I find it extremely interesting or morbidly frightening. Eventually I place in on the counter next to a half empty bottle of Voss from the night before. I remove another pill bottle, open it and stare and inside, remove two pills, place them next to the green and black capsule and realize I need to get more valium. I fish out the last bottle hiding from me in my travel bag and pull out one of ten remaining adderall I have. I place this next to the other 3 and try make a decision.

After a moment…….that feels like thirty minutes and weighs so heavy on me that I am surprised that I don’t just go back to bed, I pick up a valium and the librium, swallow them both with the Voss from last night and think to myself, “whats next”?

I dress quickly, I put on the bra and panties from last night because I simply can’t find any clean ones, Prada skirt and blouse, Gucci sunglasses and out the door I go. Im off to meet my lawyer. His name is Thomas but he likes to be called Rip (Rip is inclined towards the dramatic) and in addition to my lawyer he is also my dealer. Hell, he is everyone’s dealer. Everyone, by definition, means all of my friends whether I consider them friends or not. In this day and age, friend is an ambiguous term.

On the way to see Thomas, err, Rip, as I am driving to Spago I realize something. People in San Diego are afraid to merge in the highways. This thought is very comforting to me for some reason. It sticks in my brain like a fever. It is so assuring, much more so than “Bob is back on the meth again” or “Cailab was just admitted to Cedar-Sinai for anorexia”. The statements, despite the truth, either sit so harshly in my brain that I cannot think or even sit still or I begin to panic. A panic like I have never known so I settle on that one thought, a mantra perhaps.

People in San Diego are afraid to merge in the highways.
People in San Diego are afraid to merge in the highways.
People in San Diego are afraid to merge in the highways.

Have I gone insane? I kind of want to. I kind of hope so. I assume that insane people, wild madly out of touch, are somehow “happy” dwelling in the mouth of madness. I wonder if I will, or if I am wrong because I am not happy and maybe I am already dwelling there…in the mouth of madness.

Rip better not have ordered without me.
I really do not want to be insane. I want to care.

auspicious

RIP Richard Pryor