Evil… With a Capital V

So dig, this whole life thing, this whole responsibility thing, this whole being happy thing, do you know what it’s all about? You know what I’m saying, there’s those people who do everything right and play by the rules and win by the rules and even when things are bad they say “Hey, it’s ok because life goes on to another day,” and they smile and laugh and sing anyway. What the fuck is the matter with those people?

Or those people who just don’t care and live for themselves and aren’t always necessarily mean or malicious but mind not if me or Mary or Michael or any other motherfuckers move on from this life and melt away into oblivion. How can they do such a thing and be alright? How can anyone do anything at all? How can you let go? How do you give up? How do you say to yourself that this is how this life is and I just have to accept it?

Everywhere is nonsense and the pop cultured masses are dull and dumb and numbed down and care for nothing else as long as their favorite T.V. show has this guest star or this jackass does that and we all hate each other because you’re red or blue, which isn’t even true because we are all the same thing just shoved into different containers. But if that were true, why didn’t I watch the VMA’s last night? Is there something about me that is different, or is it just a different level of the same beast? Who knows? Do you? Is there anything special or unique or different or peculiar or attractive about me, or am I just as fake and phony as the rest? Huh?

But I suppose the point I’m trying to get at isn’t really anything at all, and it is within that nothingness that lies the problem. But I should find comfort in the nothingness. I should find comfort in that fact that my existence means nothing because it is some tiny unseeable speck among this vast and glorious plane of what is and it’s bright and filled with colors and sounds and smells and wonders and it is just that, it is just wonderful. It is awesome and yet my appreciation of it is always hazed and a bit phased because I simply cannot understand.

And the flesh, that never helps. My mortality concerns me greatly. I am such an impermanent thing and it bugs the ever-loving shit out of me. That and the fact that flesh craves other flesh, be it just for contact and the such, or for something deeper, if such a thing exists which I’m doubting on and off a little bit every day because let’s be honest, my results have been quite shitty. But all in all, the temptation is great, but my heart, she always seems to shine through and screw up everything for me, which kinda sucks but maybe one day it won’t. Ya know?


Sunday Morning Thoughts 8.28.11

So yet again, within the same week, the apocalypse seems to have been dulled down into a minor inconvenience and a new twitter page or whatever. I don’t use twitter, so I don’t really know what the proper terminology is. Nor do I really care.

My computer just shut down out of nowhere a little while ago, which was rather peculiar. Maybe it was from the hurricane that was really only a tropical storm, or the earthquake that I didn’t even feel. Maybe I’m just too numb. Maybe the world is too soft.

I got heartbroken the other night. A bit sloshed and feeling lonely. Partly for the attraction of the opposite sex, partly for the parts of my life that had passed. College just isn’t the same without those glorious men, although they haven’t died or anything like that. They just graduated, but I am sad just the same. I also long for companionship, I suppose. I don’t know if I’ll be getting into all of that right now though. I suppose it’s better if I don’t, but I probably will later anyway.

I am glad that I was right. The power is still on and nothing all that bad has really happened yet. Everybody was shitting their pants over this and that, but I kept my cool and said that it wasn’t going to be all that bad. I do believe I was right thus far, but then again it would not surprise me if the light went out right now as I spoke…. Come on… prove me wrong… Nothing?

Fair enough. So, I had a thought and when I have one of those, I sometimes record it hear. What if, and stay with me on this one, in my pursuit of becoming a comedian, I actually got up on stage and told some jokes? I know?!? It’s a rather maverick idea, but call me a lunatic running for president and sign me up. I should tell jokes in this, or at least the stories I would like to make into jokes. Like the one about me choking in the mall. That one is pretty good.

Ok, you convinced me. But before I start you should understand something about me and my relationship with food. When I am eating, I have the instinctual belief that just takes complete control that tells me that if I don’t eat my food as fast as physically possible, someone will immediately come up and take it away from me. Idiotic I know, but think about who you’re talking about. So this has obviously led to me having some close calls with choking before in my life, but there was one day in the lovely paradise we humans call the mall that really takes the cake, which is not too easy to actually choke on.

So I was eating a sandwich with my friend who now hates me because I never want to hang out with him, but that’s a whole different story. Anyway, upon trying to complete the task of eating, I take a bite that is far too big and I begin to choke on it. Now since I fancy myself a professional at such things, I remained calm and tried to either get it down or up on my own. So after about thirty seconds, I realized that this may be the real deal, so I made the executive decision to stand up and make the international sign for choking. And this could be the exact moment in my young life where I lost all faith in mankind.

My friend recognized that I was choking, but did nothing because he didn’t know what to do. Ignorance is bliss. So realizing that he was doing nothing but panicking, I made my rounds to the other tables in the food court, which was moderately full with people. So I just stood up and moved around the area hoping for a savior. There was an older man with his wife and young grandchildren sitting at the table nearby. I remember he looked me in the eyes, and then turning to his wife, whispered, “I think that boy is choking”. I made the international sign for choking to which he responding, “Yeah, he’s definitely choking,” and then turned back to his meal and his family without even flinching.

I couldn’t tell you how long I’d been going for at this point, but I decided I needed to take action myself and for those of you who don’t know, which I’m going to assume is most of you, you can perform a makeshift Heimlich maneuver on yourself using that back of a chair. So I started to do just that, except the chairs in the food court are absurdly low, and it requires a bit of force to properly do it, so now the choking boy looks like he’s got this weird fetish for humping seating arrangements in public places. After a few tries, it works and the food goes either up or down, I don’t remember. And this is where the bullshit really happens.

As soon as I stand up, this ass wipe comes up from behind me and wrapping his arms around my stomach, begins to gently thrust into me. This under no possible circumstance would save anyone’s life from anything, and besides, I was no longer choking. So I told him that I was fine and he walked off to his table. I think some idiot clapped and I went back to my sandwich. I wasn’t going to thank him, because he didn’t do anything, but after finishing my meal I figured he could use the chance to feel like a hero. So I walked over to where he was sitting and it just so happens he’s with two attractive women. It was just then I realized that by thanking him, I am getting him the potential to get laid for doing absolutely nothing beside something that most would consider a little gay.

But I swallowed my pride and shook his hand and thanked him for doing nothing. Needless to say, I did not get laid that night. On the bright side, I did live to see many more days of me not getting laid. But I suppose most people have more days not getting laid in their life, than days spent getting laid. That’s why everyone likes fucking so much. I don’t know why anyone cares about that love nonsense though. That’s just a load of bullshit.

Sunday Morning Thoughts 8.21.11

I think this one will happen as my day goes along.

I’m a little surprised I’m writing anything at all right now. All of my residents are moving in and I’m dressed in my little polo with my little name tag. How cute.

So they day came and went and now it is the next one. It rained yesterday. My air conditioner has become broken. I put in the work order for it. We’ll see what happens.

I’ve been actually successful with quitting smoking. I’ve had no more than four a day for the past week. I’m shocked too. But I suppose it’s easy when I have so much other shit to do. Which I do. Classes start tomorrow. I don’t even know what my schedule is. I have scripts to start reading. I have programs to plan. I have this and I have that.

I should have asked for her number, but I didn’t know how. Besides, it’s been awhile since I last tried to talk, let alone flirt with a girl. But she seems so sweet. She seems like the kind of girl that I’ve needed all of this time and just didn’t find, be it out of stupidity or blindness. Then again, I may not deserve a nice girl. Maybe I blew too many chances. Maybe I make too many stupid decisions. I know I make too many stupid decisions. Such is life.

I guess it is dying though. I still keep the picture. I still hope for the chance but I feel it will fade into nothing. It’s only natural. It would have been nice, but I’ve already said that too many times already. I’ve said too many things. I’ve said too much and done too little. I will do more. I do have a lot to do. So let me talk about it some more before I actually do anything.

But isn’t this reserved for complaints? But what if I don’t have any? I can’t say I really do. Life is good. At the very least, it’s not bad. The sun is shining as it sets. The clouds look as though they were painted on. I have a rather nice view from my window, but I think I’ve already mentioned that. Blah blah, blah blah blah blah blah. Isn’t that all it ever is? Is there anything more? Is there more than what we can see? Is there some sort of deeper emotion or feeling that I just don’t know, that I just don’t understand? Will I ever? Will any of us? Will you? Will you have any answers? Do you even have any questions? I do. I just don’t know what they are. So that only creates more questions, right? I mean, look at all of these question marks. Do I even know anything? Is anything I know even real? Is any of it real? Are you? Am I? It’s all relative and makes no sense and makes me mad and sad and I just don’t know.

But I’m not really mad. Nor am I really sad. Nor am I really happy. I just am, and I suppose that’s all I’ll ever be. What more could I ask for? Nothing, I suppose.

Sunday Morning Thoughts 8.14.11

I just finished my Miles Davis cat nap, which was, as all jazz naps are, spectacular, and will be proceeding to the shower. The rain will fall, I’m sure. I’ll be back to this, I’m sure.

And that I’m so squeaky clean, I’m pondering all the things that I have to do. There are many, but I don’t fear them. I don’t tremble at the incoming farce that is life. This is new, of course. Usually, and especially after a few drinks, I get all sad and scared and doubt fills every crevasse of my mind making me nothing besides unsure that I can do much of anything. This, as you may or may not know, is rather silly and almost  orders on idiotic.

This life is nothing. It may be filled with suffering and loss and desire, but that doesn’t necessarily make it anything. At least those parts don’t. It is all just an illusion that we can craft to our specification, if we even have any. Sometimes it’s much more fun to just put your hands up and free fall through everything, watching the blurs wave as you speed past them. Amber and moments.

I may be giving up on all of that. When you do such a thing, you always question, or at least I do. But then again, I have this terribly nasty habit of questioning everything. What if? Right? You can put that to just about anything. What if I stop trying? What if I do try? What if I try to talk to this very nice and very cute girl that I just met? What if I actually become happy? What if?

I am going to keep this short. I’m rather hungry and like I said, I have many a thing to do. My residents expect good floor decorations and I’ll be damned if I don’t deliver. So for now, I bid thee farewell. We can always chit-chat if you’d like.


Call me crazy and although you may be right about that, it may be someone’s burden to carry the weight of the world upon your shoulders. I know people always say that’s not true and you always have support and whatnot, but there has to be some sort of ground, doesn’t there? There may be the need for someone to carry their pain and never show it. For some reason, I feel I need to.

Maybe its ego, but then again, what isn’t? Oh, the inhuman conditions of humanity and being human. Find a nice girl Brian, you deserve it. Maybe I do, but maybe someone else needs her more than I do. But I need her, don’t i? Or maybe I don’t? I can and have lived without. Maybe there’s someone for everyone, but there’s an odd number of people.

I sit in the highest tower of my castle and look out upon the world below. They seem so small, but I’m the same size. It’s all physical and physics and psychics and psychos. It’s all so much and nothing. It’s all so sad because it paints this pretty little picture for me to see but never touch. I am only a man. I want to touch. I want to just turn the key and let everything pour from my soul.

But what good would it do? I can’t change yours or anyone else’s mind. I want to, but I really can’t take away any of the pain. I know anything is possible, but this isn’t. I see the cycles in what I do and yet I see how nothing is ever the same. My life from when I started this is gone, and good riddance. It was a silly proposal to even say anything in the first place. If it be my burden to bear, I shouldn’t talk about it so much. Talking won’t bring back the opportunities I’ve lost. Talking won’t make me feel better. Talking won’t make me feel worse. I may just have to stop feeling for awhile. I can’t really stumble in the dark anymore. I may stub my toe and say some nasty words.

I wish for all of the things I don’t have, because I’m only human. Hopefully I won’t be that for much longer. I would like to be something more than just that, but all in good time. Sometimes your entire world gets destroyed just so you can be strong enough to save someone else’s.

Thank you to anyone who caught that I’m alluding to Superman.

Sunday Morning Thoughts 8.7.11

My sunburn is peeling. The old skin dies. So it goes.

New skin will grow. It always does, at least while I’m still young, which of course is something that should be treasured and is only disregarded. I got burned on Saturday, at Wake the Dead with August on Sunday which as you may or may not know, and if you don’t know then you should, is one of the most spectacular things to ever happen to you. They are a group of gentlemen of the finest degree. I wish them all the success and love that one can truly give. Good fortune to all of those who were ever part of that band.

I was a Bay Ridge special guest again this weekend. I did stand-up… sort of. It was fun and I got a lot of fairly pleasant feedback. I am, after all, from Wappingers fucking falls, which may be as great a place as any to cultivate individuals who are willing to do anything to grab the whorish light of the attention of strangers. Only some of us are lucky enough to be born with the genetic flaw of a craving heart, and relentlessly, infatuating passion. It may have something to do with green eyes. Then again, everything in my world has to do with green eyes. It’s always nice to see a set of those. Deep emeralds splashed with lighter shades making the entire thing sing to you the sweetest song in the sweetest voice.

You’ll have to excuse me, I have recently stolen gum and a Gatorade from a pharmacy in Brooklyn. Some would call it evil, I would call it out of the ordinary and rather rewarding. Lots of trains, and lots of driving. Kaal Rock for the last time this summer. Music for the Poughkeepsie area to dig and curse about. Hurley liked it. He was there ne night. They said I was an amazing guitar player, which is something I have heard a bit of lately. I’ve heard a lot of good things. Some of them truly heartfelt like how some people feel about chocolate milk. I just love it.

Congrats to the gentlemen. They’ve earned themselves a nice little album to work on that I have a feeling that a lot of people are going to hear. Again, kudos and wishes of good things. I may not sound as though that is sincere, but it is so fuck off if you don’t think so. There are few things that are as true to my heart as these blessings, and unlike blessings from god, you know the guy who’s doing it.

And like a fart sneaking out when you laugh, there goes my thoughts and whims that I planned to pen so fantastic. There seems to be so much to say and no real way to say it. Well of course that’s not true, but since the case is that I can’t see any sort of way, I am severely obligated to believe that there isn’t. But I type because it’s now Tuesday, hence my sunburn from Saturday now turning tan. I haven’t had the time. Train me away. I met some of my residents tonight. They seemed very nice. They’re all on the women’s soccer team. I should make the effort to go to their games. I should talk to them and get to know them, even though no one else is here.

I wonder what they thought of me. Superficial right? OMG! That is such a long word… like… banana. I – O – N – A , I O N A. clap clap.

It’s nice to be home. It’s nice to be back in ol Lofty. It’s nice to be rid of last year. It’s nice to see how this year started. The conversation thus far has been spectacular. I melt. My mind is blow and boggled and bewildered and something else that starts with a B. The laugh, the sense of humor, the pained little soul that lives inside. I know you’re broken and aching a bit, and that is because you are human. But isn’t it nice to be alive? It is when you’re around.

“Don’t try it man.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re not supposed to.”

“But I want to.”


So what? SO WHAT? How do you not talk about this? I mean, if I want to start taking some risks and trying a few stabs at the old passionate side of me that collects dust, should I not start with that? I think I will and it may just be against my better judgment, but that’s been wrong too. Judgment is a fool’s game. But I’m a bit of a fool. Either way, I could be wrong. I could also be right which would be kinda rad.

But listen, I want to help and stuff. I want to because I’m wired to want to. It’s probably faulty wiring, but it’s all I’ve got. I wish the train got delayed on the track. That would have been damn near excellent. I will try because I can’t not. How could you honestly expect me not to? You’re spectacular.

Je ne suis qu’un home. Adieu.

Monday Morning Post Script 8.1.11

Things are all we understand because that’s all we can see. You can’t see something like love. But maybe I’m wrong, maybe you can and it’s just me who’s blind. However, I can tell you this whether or not I have lost my ability to write, what we’ll call swag for now, I will not cease in the attempts. It’s a personal philosophy that if you keep trying to do something that you fail at, you may just become the most successful person to ever participate in said activity.

So with fear of sounding whiney, I will speak my mind. Ok, here goes… where the hell have you been? And why are you reaching out? It’s not that I don’t mind, I’m just a bit fucking bewildered by it. I was working on being on my best behavior and trying to bury it all deep down inside, but here it is, right in the forefront.

But that’s whiney, because if I could be honesty, which I seem rarely capable of being, I would tell you that it’ s almost always there. It’s a perpetual thought that I carry with me every day. It’s become lighter but I only believe that’s because I’ve got a long way to carry it. I’ve wondered if it would last a life time, and decided that may be the coolest thing I ever do, depending of course on other circumstance. If I am a huge success in my life and have all of those things that most people want so bad like wealth and property and fame, but still ache for something from the climax of my teen years so much that nothing else will ever quite sooth anything at all good enough. I think that’s cool. I’m also a fucking loser, so there is that to consider.

Why did I really write this? Attention mostly, and partly to appease the audience. Without them I am nothing and despite admitting to the occasional accumulation of klunkers, I should and would like to make happy readers. I want to get out of bed in the morning. I want a lot of things. Whine.

There is one thing that I can tell you about that won’t be complaining. I left my body the other day, I think. I was stoned, zooted, blazed, toasted or in the layman’s term, high as a motherfucker and jamming out with my band. Yeah, I’m in a band. We haven’t played a show, but we do rock, so you can lick the tip. We were playing a song I wrote. It was the jam part. I was soloing. I may have made Duane smile in his grave, not to seem like I’m bragging. It’s a pretty good song, especially the drum part that Harold does at what I guess I’ll call the bridge. The guitar parts are probably the coolest I’ve ever come up with. The one bass part is the only bass line I have ever written. The words are half from a sunny afternoon a few weeks ago and the other half from a poem I wrote at the beginning of summer. Just thought I’d share. We’ll record it, or you can just ask me to play it.