Thursday, June 9, 2016

I Am As God Made Me Sir

Job 23:10

Here, I'm listening to this:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R2LQdh42neg

This blog's function is to focus my thoughts on anything other then my inevitable move from this apartment in South Austin, and I have to leave in just three days. I'd rather write, deflect, and day dream. Procrastination, masturbation, education, procreation, illumination.

One of my favorite movies is 'Enter The Dragon'; yeah, it's that story. When I was 26, I started to cultivate my manipulation skills thinking that people would not see that sucker punch coming. But I have rules and tact. Don't hurt the good people; the gentle souls. They do exist always.

I have a blog called, "One Answer To Cynicism" that is a true story about coming into work one morning while in the mist of a difficult time. A secret hard time. I took my ripped up jeans and my backpack and drove the scooter my family forced me to learn to drive to work. Crazy Lithuanians. It took 45 minutes just to get to work, which was for my friends at a French cafe-

Side Note: I forgot about the French band: Air. Or the Italian band Blonde Redhead. I had a bunch of mixed tapes from a comic book control freak that I dated in San Francisco. He'd make the tape cases into works of art. I still have the actual tapes with black ink, stars, and layers of construction paper taped and deliberately pulled off in a perfectly ripped effect. His CD cases were better. I still have a few propped up around my little apartment.

-That's such a random side note I forgot what I'm saying. I walked into work one day and found a guitar with a note taped to it with my name written in black marker. There were no people cool enough in my life then to surprise me that way. The note was a typed history of the guitar, what music store its previous owner thought were best to patron, and a request to leave this guitar outside of the cafe when I am finished and have, "upgraded to a bigger ax."

It was signed, "Anonymous."  After a little thought I deduced it was...the musician who comes into the store with his wife. The guy I almost cried to about wanting a guitar on a particularly busy day at work. That guy. His name was Tracey. His wife and him had a baby girl they took into the cafe. My point is...

If Tracey had ever come back into the store, I would have thought he had a motive. If his wife ever came back, I would have thought the same. But he never did. At least not in the five months following this gift. Maybe people try more often to be cool, but the gesture is lost in search of a motive. This musician and his wife had no motive but kindness. Being on the receiving end of such a gracious gesture during a painful time was one of the best feelings I have ever felt. This story is my life's thesis. There are genuine people in the world that put time into making others happy just for the sake of the process of making someone happy.

I suppose you can say that it makes them feel better to be cool. That is the extent to their 'selfish' act.

If I did this random act of coolness to someone having a hard time (which he knew nothing about by the way), I'd have done my part to turn the world with a purity that rises above human nature. The condition of selfishness that I believe is inherent in the human core. We can rise above our instincts.

After saying all of that, I can go the opposite way just as easily. 'Enter the Dragon' has always been on of my favorite movies for some of its quotes. I love the discipline of martial arts. My older brother studied Aikido when we lived together after school. He accidentally kicked me in the nose once. It hurt.

In 'Enter The Dragon' fashion, I broke yesterday when I received an e-mail in response to needing help in finding a place to live. So far I have been interviewed by a goat owner (he owned goats) on a commune in Austin. Then a Fulbright Scholar I nearly gave $480 to for a scam. The last was a Chinese poker player who wrote the e-mail that sparked this blog. He is not in the drug world. I am not in the drug world. It is far away in the distance and I am not looking back. The poker player told me he would help me...if I slept with him. I know that talk well.  I never sold my soul in that manner.

I woke up in tears again today because I have a few days to make a serious decision and the weight is crushing. Where the hell am I going to live? Felons need to network. Everyone needs to network. My family has a farm in Maryland. That farm is just ruins of a better time when I was very young. I never got a single phone call in high school. I played soccer after school with my brothers.

I don't like what I'm trying to sell in this blog.

The premise to 'Enter The Dragon' is as old as the idea of a brothel. Get women addicted to drugs to control them. To trap them. Now that I am a felon (I feel bad for felons) I have to summon all of my skills cultivated from when I had an $80 a day addiction to feed and no job. I hustled for two years before I admitted that I'm not a good poker player. Or that I am an excellent one. In the end all I had was bravado.

Example of later stages of hustling: Taking my former fiance's birthday gift of lesbian porn in DVD format (which included my favorite director Micheal Ninn's Fem Dolce with Sophie Moone, [Yowzers!])  to Arcata's  Mom & Pop record shops to ask if anyone would buy them at a discount price from me right on the spot for cash. I remember the waiting time with such focus and hope. By then I had lost any iota of embarrassment, which returned naturally as I sobered up (in spades.)
A decade later,  I still remember the ordeal of standing around in an elegant black trench coat that hid an unattractive waif figure; waiting for what seemed like a half an hour for the employees in the back of the store to return with their answer. Those were the final days of my addiction. I sobered up cold turkey in the corn fields of Nebraska, where I decided to write my thoughts down in a blog I titled: "The Maladjusted Rants." Well I'll be. That is a graphic overshare. Moving on...

The stain of what I saw in people will never leave me. When I have panic attacks, like this morning (nothing coffee can't fix) it's about that type of ugliness in people. When the world falls apart I want everyone to follow the rules. I'm a lot like The Big Lebowski's Walter Sobchak. Every day I'd love to take a crowbar to a car just for the release. We live in a society. I take Valium instead.

Side Note: I still have a petition with over 300 signatures to replace the statue of Mckinley in Arcata, California with a big ass statue of The Dude with a bowling ball in hand. If someone wants to champion that cause, I've got that petition still. In fact now that I think of it, the reason I moved to Austin, Texas was because I followed the advice of the Professor that I had an affair with (got an "A" baby!...affair started after the class of course) who allowed me to give a speech in his class about replacing Mckinley's shaking hand with The Dude. It's Humboldt County. The Dude should be our mascot.

Another thing about that Mckinley statue: The drugged out bums that line the bars there cut off the thumb of that statue and sent a ransom note to the City of Arcata board of directors asking for a million dollars in exchange for his thumb. I do not believe their demands were met. The pigpen cloud of weed above their heads made them bad candidates for proper negotiation.

I am going down swinging. My brother staged a perfect exist when he could not escape the hell he put himself in. I'm not going to kill myself over too many choices. I'm still fighting to stay here in Austin. Every day I make a phone call to get a plane ticket to the BWI airport; then I straighten my posture, dress to the 9's, and make two phone calls to stay in Austin. I carved a life out here in cowboy territory; all mapped out by Cormic Mccarthy in Blood Meridian, the only book my cat's dead beat dad claims to have read. What the fuck was I thinking? Oh, I was drinking! Drinking, not thinkin.

My priorities are to keep my cat happy and free. I want to remain free. I'm no different from anyone else.

By the way, my favorite quote from Enter The Dragon is from Williams (Jim Kelly.) He says, "Defeat? I don't waste my time with it. When it comes, I won't even notice; I will be too busy looking good." I'm going to stand up before I get knocked out.

I have to add something that makes me laugh. I have a stalker who I can't quite file paperwork against because of something he wrote me that makes me smile every time I remember it. I told him that my grave stone will read, "It's all good." His was better. It would read, "My Mother Told Me This Would Happen."






Thursday, June 2, 2016

A Yes Man For Pussy

Please Consider My Request To Add This Term To The English Urban Dictionary-
Noun. Yes Man For Pussy.
The term used for a man (or woman) who has morals, integrity and strong values that remain mute when asked to speak up against their partner in a third party argument for fear of not getting any pussy that night or for their foreseeable future.

Side Note: Actually my sister told me that her child, in kindergarten now, corrected her when she used the word: 'Snowman.' It's actually "Snow person."
(My auto-corrector has not caught up on this political correction.)

Example: "I believe to my core that your husband does not agree with your justification, so ask my partner. He's more reliable because he is not a yes man for pussy." 

A worm, whose need for pussy prevents them from asserting their beliefs for fear of jeopardizing their chances of getting laid. 

Political Correctness would alter the word from Man to Person.

Try: "He's not a Yes Person For Pussy." 

Ah, it sounds better as: Yes Man For Pussy.

I'm living in the Ice Age.