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Wednesday, January 28, 2009

And on...

I don't feel funny today. Or cute, or particularly clever. Guess you can't have it all.

Struggling mightily to get rent paid in's not looking good. I worked a wine dinner tonight. Easy. But it's still a struggle. But I know it's a struggle for almost everyone, right now. I know I am not the only father behind in child support, and there are those who have even less than I do.

Poor bastards. Gratitude is my way out, and that, my friends, is a bitch. Always has been. Bumps up against this damned sense of entitlement I have always wrestled. At least it can be a goal. Short term.

I made that appointment with the VA, check on my meds. Need to. I am out of whack. Someone told me I might have a thyroid problem. Explain the largess and the lack of desire to do anything constructive. Worth a shot.

The weather is not helping. It has been colder than a blue fuck the past few days, and I'm heartily tired of it. Ice almost cost me a bad slip outside the apartment. Ice on the top step about resulted in the back of my skull rapping smartly against the sharp edge of the top step.

I imagined laying in the freezing ice storm, slowly bleeding to death. No one was out. I would not have been found in time. That would so suck.

I'm being told the best is yet to come and cannot imagine how this will all end up. But if we did know, would we still follow the course we set?

I can't imagine asking for this...

Saturday, January 24, 2009

If you're afraid of being lonely, don't try to be right.

I know it all too well. Yet I am not lonely.

I do, at one time or another, sometimes all at once, piss off most everyone I know.

I do not do it on purpose. I simply have no more room for any more bullshit. My life is full, the tank is slopping...please stop.

The cable goes this weekend. I can't afford it. This frightens me. Time home alone will mean...silence. The only noise what my head can drum up. That is never a good idea.

I need a DVD player, at least.

But I will catch up on my reading, studying comedy, getting to know where it came from, and who paved the way for sick bastards like me...looking for an open mic. Writing material. Trying it out on an empty room. This could get really bizarre.

The good news. Comedy is filled with very disturbed people.

I should fit nicely.

Comedy Samurai. That works.

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

There is no lifeguard in this end of the gene pool.

I was thinking about my family. Show business and all.

My Mom the stripper. What? They can have kids...not a particularly good idea, but it happens.

She ran the VIP booth at the school carnival, and was a riot at PTA. Yes, she wore fur. She would have had at the big eyed baby seals with her teeth and hands, if it meant she would wear fur.

I was six and strolled through the house draped in it. I drew the line at jewelry.

It swallowed me. I was a midget pimp. There is something inherently wrong in a young boy wearing expensive fur. Just ask the Vatican.

Of course I was never allowed a birthday at a firehouse, either, for obvious reasons. "Mom, get off the pole, for Christ's sake."

Breakfast, according to Mom and Dad and their strange jumble of entertainment friends, and kids too, was after work. We all had breakfast at 2 a.m. Didn't you?

Agents; acts, musicians, characters and criminals.

My people.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Never hit a man with glasses; hit him with your fist.

The motherless bastards are closing in. The disconnect notices are gospel.

Catch up? I'm grabbing at branches just to slow the fall.

Soon I will be forced to 'borrow' the signal it takes for me to continue this.

I don't do well with silence.

The strange gets thick.

Every one is on the change bandwagon. How about getting a foot up off my neck, how about changing that?

It's odd, the idea about stand up. I ran 'from' a show business family only to come back full circle.

I did everything I could to behave and look like a normal productive yada, yada. I did not fare well in that regard.

So take your head off in public a few times a week, practicing in front of strangers, three minutes at a time.

It won't be for everybody. Most people aren't ready for 'filter free' commentary.

Oh well...

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

If you truly go crazy, it's best to get paid for it.-HST

As my impending 50th birthday looms larger than life in October, I have been thinking of ways to mark the milestone.

The fact that someone like me lived that long should be enough, but I feel it should be memorable. And no, I have no desire to completely cliche my lifestyle by skydiving. It is not a rule. I cannot see myself hurling me from a perfectly good aircraft-not on my best day.

So I thought of something. That little nigglin' thought, in the back of my mind for years, and I think it stands for something, a change in my life.

Finally doing what I've wanted my whole life, letting the outcome be what it may.

I'm finding an open mike night. I'm performing standup.

I have nothing left to lose.

Saturday, January 10, 2009

If you board the wrong train, it is no use to run along the corridor in the opposite direction.

It's not for nothing that reality is the leading cause of stress for those in touch with it.

My grasp, at the moment, is tenuous. But it beats the alternatives.

The V.A. Hospital is not high on my list of places I want to go. This would be a third trip and that's way too much evidence saying I'm nuts.

The last time I stayed in the same ward my Dad had been in when I was five. PTSD. I had it too. From childhood they said. You don't have to be in combat to be involved in a war.

Perhaps a brief checkup from the neck-up might be in order. A tune up, as it were.

Not any time soon I'm afraid. Too busy playing catch up. Screw wreckage of my past, I've got wreckage from right now. And no one to blame.

Good. Not a victim.

Not anymore. Trying to be stand up, and do the next right thing.

Looking for a day job...again. And we all know how much bloody fun that is. Desperation leaking from my pineal gland.

I swear they can smell it.

Thursday, January 8, 2009


It has been written that intent is a force that exists in the universe, when someone living "of the source" beckons intent, it comes to them and sets up the path for attainment.

Intent. Intentions. Good ones.

The road to hell being what it is, I'm not too sure about this concept.

If I fall of a building my intent is to fly, however briefly.

Man. Good intentions, when looked at in a list, could also score every major mistake I ever made.

I have been divorced for nine years. No girlfriend, no pet (tried it-I suck as a pet owner-too impatient,) not so much as a house plant. Too much responsibility. Or so I thought.

And I had generally become what I thought of as 'comfortable' in a monastic, bitter kind of way.

Someone recently called me on it.

"You've been hiding..."

I am open to the possibility that they were right.

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

Some people never go crazy. What truly humble lives they must live.-Charles Bukowski

Life on life's terms. Never been good at it. It's work.

As if everyone else on the planet received the manual; "Living life on life's terms without screwing yourself into the floor up to your neck."

In your family of origin, there was never a lot of middle ground. Black. White. Up, down. There was no grey, no yellow stripe. Either in the middle of the highway doing 85 or on the side of the road, watching the rest of it pass.

You know reality is sharp edged. That's why every time you drank, you did it until things 'rounded out'. But you couldn't keep it round.

You truly think if given enough time, you could fuck up an anvil. Left to your own devices.

But therein lies the truth. You're not alone in this, not anymore.

As much ass as it sucks, asking for help, you do it anyway.

You become acquainted with the term "our", instead of "your".

You try to use it, to feel a part of-instead of so isolated.

You know the steps to the dance.

And you try to stay in the light.

The dark is there...always has been. But until Sally Struthers starts to campaign for the eradication of "Underground Cat Juggling," you will look the other way.

(Cat juggling is a dark, underside of our sub-culture and should never be attempted. No one needs to see that.)

*Young men in Wisconsin are excluded from this statement. Do whatever you have to. The nights are long and the days are cold. Juggle, if you must.

Monday, January 5, 2009

"You sold me Queer Giraffes..." Oliver Reed.

Oliver Reed as the slave merchant in Gladiator.

The Character. The visual. Not the drunk.

I can then put a face on a God concept. Silly?

Whatever works.

Granted God didn't die in a Maltese Bar, arm wrestling sailors, after ingesting three bottles of Captain Morgan's spiced Rum, several shots of grouse, and a flotilla of beer.

But that's not important. When I pray, I need a face to hang it on.

I need to know who I'm dealing with.

Sunday, January 4, 2009

Checking in...

I am, among other things, a writer. I write; you read.

Lately I have not met my end of the bargain. Sorry for that.

But this is a journal after all. And so it continues...

I hit a dark patch, fast slide into dark.

I am back to struggling. In all areas. The blame falls on me.

I know how to do this. Back to practicing turning care over to a higher power, while I go 'a day at at a time,' sometimes by the minute, with my back to the wall.

I know that life is much like a pendulum. High points and low, and it always swings back.

But it takes the focus of a laser. Unwavering. Not wanting to go back, not wanting it to get worse.

Re-aligning my concept of a higher power; slowly...this will take time.

That 'crisis of faith' from a few weeks ago has given me the opportunity to regain faith a mustard seed at a time.

And I remember lately that what I am not grateful for, I am bound to lose.

Let's hope it's not too late.

My new disclaimer...yeah I know.

Okay, the old disclaimer was tired. The ideas were outdated and keeping me stuck in a place I don't want to be now for something more refreshing.

I have recently changed my views regarding women. Seems I had some issues with the fairer sex due to past pain and self- centered fear. (Yes...duh applies.)

I'm done with that.

Being in recovery has helped me change my entire life, perceptions and attitudes. I cannot change my history but I can change my today and my future.

I recently realized that the women I know in recovery are some of the strongest, bravest, most gentle and kind teachers I have ever had. You exemplify integrity and spiritual growth, and I hope you know who you are.

Some may know of my past marital and relationship history and been a participant in them as well. It's past and that's where it the past.

I own my part in those failures but claim no more responsibility in any misery you may be experiencing. I am sorry, but it's time to get off the cross. We need the wood.

Thank you all...