..following me...
"black clouds hangin over town tonight...
but I don't mind, I don't mind..."
black cloud whispering into my ear-
but I don't hear, I won't hear...
if you're cold I'll tell you its the summer breeze-
one kiss from me, and it'll be alright
What time will you let me down?
...
I'm not down yet.
(brief interlude:
silence broken by the psssshh of a tallboy beer being slowly opened- the sound of a zipper being pulled down, of the first touch of your hand on my thigh, a voice saying "I.." when you know the next words are "love you". It's the sound of a promise- maybe one yet to be fulfilled-but, ah that sound means that release is one step closer...)
Then he lies awake and he wonders-
Why can't that be me?
... cause in his life he's filled with all these good intentions-
he's left a lot of things he'd rather not mention
right now.
If I could be like that, what would I do?
(Sighs envelop you, me, everything.
Introspection only comes when passion has ebbed away. Only after the moment passes me by do I second guess myself. Then I second guess the second guess... and so on, and on. Never one to LIVE in anything but the moment. But, I'll allow myself the guilt of this backwards glance- knowing I can't change anything- KNOWING- in my stubborn asshole self awareness, that I wouldn't change my first reaction If I could any-damn-way.
but, I like to TELL myself I'd have been better if I had just had that second chance)
now the currents only pulling me down...
I used to roll the dice
feel the fear in my enemies eyes-
the minute that I held the key- next the doors closed on me...
... and that was when I ruled the world...
(What the fuck is this second guessing horseshit anyway?! Even I don't believe in it. I've never been one to forgive, but I love to forget. Bring the new dawn and a new day's innocence to lose. I'll allow myself to be reborn as many times as I want...
But recent days bring the revelation that birth- and even re-birth just ain't all that exciting.)
I'm so addicted to-
Nothing, anymore. And I wish, almost, that I was. I've never been one to ask God for anything. I always believed that the only blasphemy was to ask God for anything that is only of use to YOU in this petty existence. But I kinda want to ask God to give me a fix.
A fix that makes me want to live this life.
A fix that makes me love again
A fix that makes me desire another day here, rather than despise it)
Wake up in the morning, get to living my life...
making sure I'm all that I can be....
?
ain't worried about nothing, cept the man I want to be...
(but who in the hell do I want to be, anymore? I've been everyone I ever wanted to be... Not to mention a half dozen bastards I never imagined being...)
And I thought I found it-
couple times even settled down.
and I'd hang around just long enough to find my way back out-
I'd be thankful for the tears...
( only when I was semi-happy again)
Nothing is unattainable. But I only want what I believe I'll never find. And if it happens to drop into my life, no matter how miraculously and heaven sent-
I'd love it, fuck it, own it, and suck it dry- of all that I could- and I'd give it up to chase the next unreachable dream.
It's the quest that matters. Not the Grail itself.
I'd piss in it and toss it to the roadside after I'd drunk it empty. It's the search that matters.
And when you're done searching, you're done.
Two-edged blade that is. Decadence is its own reward, as the infamous one once said.
When you are done searching, you have either found what you were looking for-
or you have tired of jousting windmills. Either way, when its done, you're done. And when you havent found what you're looking for, after all this time- you know you must have been looking for the wrong thing all along.
And, that's alright too.
The answers that come are seldom the ones we thought we were seeking.
Now Dance, Fucker, Dance
Show me how to lie
You're getting better all the time
And turning all against one
is an art thats hard to teach
Another clever word
sets off an unsuspecting herd
And as you step back into line
a mob jumps to their feet
Now dance, fucker, dance
man, he never had a chance
And no one even knew
It was really only you
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Drunken memories
Ah, the glory days that weren't so glorious, but they weren't so pretend as these days spent in stuidies of self control and passion management...
There was this one time, back in the day...
It was another party at Jeremy Cunningham's... And, of course, I was as fucked up as you can get and still be standing. Jeremy was a thief. And I mean that in the best possible way. He was good. I once shoplifted a TENT. Compared to Jeremy, I was a rank amateur. He would hold up the zippos in front of the cashier while he paid for his gas- ask how much it was, wave it in the cahsier's face and slide it right into his pocket, and she'd never ever know the difference. He was a slick, slick thief.
I grew up poor. And being poor means you have to find your own entertainment. No video games for the white trash kids in the sticks... No siree. We ran through corn fields naked, we tore shit up, including each other. We tested the boundaries ... of our parents, our neighbors, the law... We had a hellofa time, finding that entertainment. It was so much more creative before we were handed the family torch of alcohol. Then it got sort of predictable. But I like to think I added my own brand of flair...
I was a little fucker, back then- smallest kid in my class. I barely topped 5'0 as a freshman. I made up for it with a big fucking mouth and using my brain. I prided myself on letting my mouth get me out of fights that my mouth had gotten me into in the first place. And, in the offchance I couldn't talk my way out something (which was rare)- I was more than happy to fight. I had four brothers. My two older brothers were step-brothers. And, to add to the pain that brothers inflict, they didnt ever really like my mom, til the end, when they all made peace with her before she died... But, that makes for a lot of unnecessary asskickings. They treated me, my brother and their little brother equally in one instance: We had the RULES.
Rule 1: No little brother shall ever be able to kick his older brothers ass. (There's something to this one. As the middle boy, I will tell you this- NEITHER of my little brothers have ever kicked my ass- I would die before I'd let that happen. And my lil bros are fucking TOUGH. It's a brother thing).
Rule 2: If we ever got in a fight at school, and we lost that fight- we would get our asses kicked twice as bad by our older brothers when we got home.
Rule 3: You never, EVER, drink a man's last beer. (This is just common sense, and the heart of civilized society.)
Rule 4: All Pussy is fair game. (this one backfired on them in the end)... Definitely my favorite rule.
Anyway, for a little-bitty fucker, this was harsh shit. I thought they were bullshittin me, but I found out wrong. I came home the first time on the shit end of the stick. I had gotten into an altercation on the bus with a kid named Noe Flores. I backed down. My lil bros were only too happy to tell Bobby and Billy how I had pussed out to a kid TWO years younger than me. (and a foot taller with a fricking moustache!). They kicked my ass so bad, they gave me a week to recuperate before they demanded that I challenge Noe to a fight.
I did what I was told. I challenged Noe to get off the bus halfway between his house and ours. We all skipped getting off at our stop. At the halfway point, Noe wouldn't get off, even though he was with about four of his cousins. My little bros, thinking that this meant there would be no fight, got off anyway, trying to save a longer walk home.
I had learned my lesson though. I got off the bus at Noe's house, alone- with him and his four cousins. And I got jumped as I was taking my levi jacket off.
And I kicked his fucking ass, while screaming every anti-hispanic epithet I could recall, in front of not only him, his cousins, but his Dad, and his mom, and about twelve other family members who were drinking beer in his front yard.
I never really thought about til just now- But I bet HE got his ass kicked really bad by his brothers after that. No one fucked with me, they respected the balls.
Any-fuckin way. This was supposed to be short. I was a teenage drunk. I was a teenage pothead. I was a teenage pimp. I was drunk, stoned, and fucking every moment of my free time from age 15 to 20. And I hung out with the same class of moron as me- poor white trash and poor mexicans from the wrong side of the tracks.
Jeremy started hanging out with some gang member mexicans, most notably "Robert". Robert carried a straight razor. I had never really seen one before til the night he put it up against my throat and kicked me out of Jeremy's party.
I was by myself, and I was WAY fucked up for that early in the evening- so I deserved some embarrassment, I will admit. But this was supposed to be my good friend, my partner-in-crime. Literally, in fact. But he stood by while this gang member fuck punked me.
Well, I chalked it up to my own stupidity and pushed it back. But there kept being run-ins with Robert. But, I never went to a party at Jeremy's by myself after that. I always had Doyel and our own little crowd with me, so there was never too much shit after that, because all we did was scrap.
But one night, at my girlfriends house, (Courtney Dunn... Man I miss that girl) Robert was there, by himself, with me and Doyel. And everyone was fucked up. And Robert started acting up. He didn't have his carnals with him this time. He did pull out his straight razor at one point and Reminded me of that previous night.
Silly Mescan. You should have shut the fuck up while you were ahead. I played it cool and we proceeded to get drunk, drunk, drunk.
About four-thirty we ran out of beer. Doyel, always the devil on my shoulder, told him that we had some beer out and the canyon- the middle of nowhere where my family lived. I caught on immediately and agreed. We got Robert into my camaro and drove way out to Horseshoe bin canyon, where my family lived in a fucking trailer house on a the only hill for miles and miles, on the lip of a canyon system that stretches from the outskirts of Slaton, Texas- for a hundred miles southeast.
When we got there, it was still dark. I shushed everyone to silence. At that point, Doyel and I had never discussed anything at all. I had assumed we would just take him out to a cotton field and I would get in his face, kick his ass in the dirt and then go on. But he just kept running his mouth. That boy just couldnt stop himself. So when we got to the house, I figured, well fuck it- We will take this motherfucker out in the canyon, and well, some of us will come back and one of us wont.
Robert asked where the beer was and, we were all stumbling ass drunk and I just said down this hill here. He seemed a little confused when I asked him to carry the shovel. I threw a .410 to Doyel and grabbed my own 20 gauge and off we went, in the now semi-light of the dawn into the canyon.
I think this is the part where Robert stopped talking shit.
Well, maybe I will elaborate on all the details later, but I'm buzzing and tired, so...
We got down to the place where I had built a dam in the river so that we could jump from a rope in the trees and I led Robert to an old fire pit and told him to start digging.
At this point, all the subterfuge was kind of gone. We put the guns on him and just nodded to the ground. Dig, you cocksucker.
The sun was coming up, and as the light trickled through the trees, the dark ebbed away and so did my drunken fervor. I kept looking at Doyel, he kept looking at me. Robert had dug about 2 feet down and had to stop to dry heave twice. He looked at us, and he didnt say a word, and that's probably a good thing. Begging is the last refuge of a man who doesnt deserve to live anyway.
I looked at Doyel one last time, and I said- fuck it. Robert- you ready to go home?
He almost gasped as he said YES. And we led him back up that hill and took the guns back to the house. We drove the 30 minutes back to Lubbock in silence and dropped him off at his car.
He stopped coming to parties after that. Go figure.
I saw him one last time after that. We may not all learn our lessons, but I'd like to think he learned his. But what the fuck do I know? He may be in the pen with Doyel now, for all I know.
I know I learned my lesson.
There was this one time, back in the day...
It was another party at Jeremy Cunningham's... And, of course, I was as fucked up as you can get and still be standing. Jeremy was a thief. And I mean that in the best possible way. He was good. I once shoplifted a TENT. Compared to Jeremy, I was a rank amateur. He would hold up the zippos in front of the cashier while he paid for his gas- ask how much it was, wave it in the cahsier's face and slide it right into his pocket, and she'd never ever know the difference. He was a slick, slick thief.
I grew up poor. And being poor means you have to find your own entertainment. No video games for the white trash kids in the sticks... No siree. We ran through corn fields naked, we tore shit up, including each other. We tested the boundaries ... of our parents, our neighbors, the law... We had a hellofa time, finding that entertainment. It was so much more creative before we were handed the family torch of alcohol. Then it got sort of predictable. But I like to think I added my own brand of flair...
I was a little fucker, back then- smallest kid in my class. I barely topped 5'0 as a freshman. I made up for it with a big fucking mouth and using my brain. I prided myself on letting my mouth get me out of fights that my mouth had gotten me into in the first place. And, in the offchance I couldn't talk my way out something (which was rare)- I was more than happy to fight. I had four brothers. My two older brothers were step-brothers. And, to add to the pain that brothers inflict, they didnt ever really like my mom, til the end, when they all made peace with her before she died... But, that makes for a lot of unnecessary asskickings. They treated me, my brother and their little brother equally in one instance: We had the RULES.
Rule 1: No little brother shall ever be able to kick his older brothers ass. (There's something to this one. As the middle boy, I will tell you this- NEITHER of my little brothers have ever kicked my ass- I would die before I'd let that happen. And my lil bros are fucking TOUGH. It's a brother thing).
Rule 2: If we ever got in a fight at school, and we lost that fight- we would get our asses kicked twice as bad by our older brothers when we got home.
Rule 3: You never, EVER, drink a man's last beer. (This is just common sense, and the heart of civilized society.)
Rule 4: All Pussy is fair game. (this one backfired on them in the end)... Definitely my favorite rule.
Anyway, for a little-bitty fucker, this was harsh shit. I thought they were bullshittin me, but I found out wrong. I came home the first time on the shit end of the stick. I had gotten into an altercation on the bus with a kid named Noe Flores. I backed down. My lil bros were only too happy to tell Bobby and Billy how I had pussed out to a kid TWO years younger than me. (and a foot taller with a fricking moustache!). They kicked my ass so bad, they gave me a week to recuperate before they demanded that I challenge Noe to a fight.
I did what I was told. I challenged Noe to get off the bus halfway between his house and ours. We all skipped getting off at our stop. At the halfway point, Noe wouldn't get off, even though he was with about four of his cousins. My little bros, thinking that this meant there would be no fight, got off anyway, trying to save a longer walk home.
I had learned my lesson though. I got off the bus at Noe's house, alone- with him and his four cousins. And I got jumped as I was taking my levi jacket off.
And I kicked his fucking ass, while screaming every anti-hispanic epithet I could recall, in front of not only him, his cousins, but his Dad, and his mom, and about twelve other family members who were drinking beer in his front yard.
I never really thought about til just now- But I bet HE got his ass kicked really bad by his brothers after that. No one fucked with me, they respected the balls.
Any-fuckin way. This was supposed to be short. I was a teenage drunk. I was a teenage pothead. I was a teenage pimp. I was drunk, stoned, and fucking every moment of my free time from age 15 to 20. And I hung out with the same class of moron as me- poor white trash and poor mexicans from the wrong side of the tracks.
Jeremy started hanging out with some gang member mexicans, most notably "Robert". Robert carried a straight razor. I had never really seen one before til the night he put it up against my throat and kicked me out of Jeremy's party.
I was by myself, and I was WAY fucked up for that early in the evening- so I deserved some embarrassment, I will admit. But this was supposed to be my good friend, my partner-in-crime. Literally, in fact. But he stood by while this gang member fuck punked me.
Well, I chalked it up to my own stupidity and pushed it back. But there kept being run-ins with Robert. But, I never went to a party at Jeremy's by myself after that. I always had Doyel and our own little crowd with me, so there was never too much shit after that, because all we did was scrap.
But one night, at my girlfriends house, (Courtney Dunn... Man I miss that girl) Robert was there, by himself, with me and Doyel. And everyone was fucked up. And Robert started acting up. He didn't have his carnals with him this time. He did pull out his straight razor at one point and Reminded me of that previous night.
Silly Mescan. You should have shut the fuck up while you were ahead. I played it cool and we proceeded to get drunk, drunk, drunk.
About four-thirty we ran out of beer. Doyel, always the devil on my shoulder, told him that we had some beer out and the canyon- the middle of nowhere where my family lived. I caught on immediately and agreed. We got Robert into my camaro and drove way out to Horseshoe bin canyon, where my family lived in a fucking trailer house on a the only hill for miles and miles, on the lip of a canyon system that stretches from the outskirts of Slaton, Texas- for a hundred miles southeast.
When we got there, it was still dark. I shushed everyone to silence. At that point, Doyel and I had never discussed anything at all. I had assumed we would just take him out to a cotton field and I would get in his face, kick his ass in the dirt and then go on. But he just kept running his mouth. That boy just couldnt stop himself. So when we got to the house, I figured, well fuck it- We will take this motherfucker out in the canyon, and well, some of us will come back and one of us wont.
Robert asked where the beer was and, we were all stumbling ass drunk and I just said down this hill here. He seemed a little confused when I asked him to carry the shovel. I threw a .410 to Doyel and grabbed my own 20 gauge and off we went, in the now semi-light of the dawn into the canyon.
I think this is the part where Robert stopped talking shit.
Well, maybe I will elaborate on all the details later, but I'm buzzing and tired, so...
We got down to the place where I had built a dam in the river so that we could jump from a rope in the trees and I led Robert to an old fire pit and told him to start digging.
At this point, all the subterfuge was kind of gone. We put the guns on him and just nodded to the ground. Dig, you cocksucker.
The sun was coming up, and as the light trickled through the trees, the dark ebbed away and so did my drunken fervor. I kept looking at Doyel, he kept looking at me. Robert had dug about 2 feet down and had to stop to dry heave twice. He looked at us, and he didnt say a word, and that's probably a good thing. Begging is the last refuge of a man who doesnt deserve to live anyway.
I looked at Doyel one last time, and I said- fuck it. Robert- you ready to go home?
He almost gasped as he said YES. And we led him back up that hill and took the guns back to the house. We drove the 30 minutes back to Lubbock in silence and dropped him off at his car.
He stopped coming to parties after that. Go figure.
I saw him one last time after that. We may not all learn our lessons, but I'd like to think he learned his. But what the fuck do I know? He may be in the pen with Doyel now, for all I know.
I know I learned my lesson.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Owned but not taken
Sacrifice me to your indecency
Pull me down within your darkness
Consume me and be consumed in turn
Worship me at the altar of your lost pleasures
Let me become the dreams you never allow to come true
Use me, use me, use me up
Thats what I was born for
Thats what I live for
Thats what I would die for
In this life, I am owned but not taken
I am the careless possession of someone who needed me desperately enough to have to hold me,
but never enough to want to find out what i needed to hold.
I am owned but not taken
Take me-
Take me,
TAKE ME!
I will not solve your problems
I will not complete you
I will not bring you eternal paradise
I will bring you the moment. I will bring you desire. I will bring you love.
I will love you with every fiber of my being for a blissful blinking of your mindseye.
I will let you take my love, and I will take yours
And for a moment, perfection will be ours.
but just for a moment....
(inspired by GFW)
Pull me down within your darkness
Consume me and be consumed in turn
Worship me at the altar of your lost pleasures
Let me become the dreams you never allow to come true
Use me, use me, use me up
Thats what I was born for
Thats what I live for
Thats what I would die for
In this life, I am owned but not taken
I am the careless possession of someone who needed me desperately enough to have to hold me,
but never enough to want to find out what i needed to hold.
I am owned but not taken
Take me-
Take me,
TAKE ME!
I will not solve your problems
I will not complete you
I will not bring you eternal paradise
I will bring you the moment. I will bring you desire. I will bring you love.
I will love you with every fiber of my being for a blissful blinking of your mindseye.
I will let you take my love, and I will take yours
And for a moment, perfection will be ours.
but just for a moment....
(inspired by GFW)
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Home Sweet Home
A blogger friend who I respect quite a bit chastised me for my admittedly simplistic reasoning concerning the recent election. And, I've got to admit, my personal life has kept me from blogging much, and really, from even any deep contemplation of the situation in the past few months. My heart's just not in it, and I'm sure my dwindling readership at the House has noticed. I've been half-assing it, and I half-assed my email to him as well, which led to him handing my ass to me.
Reading his letter to me reminded me of me talking to my dumbass brother. I've got no excuse, except I've been too lazy and too apathetic to delve past the surfaces lately. All my time is spent at work, and then, working overtime from home, deep into the night, processing shit on the company site. My focus has been on the kids, the house, the bills, on my one materialistic desire, to get the new Camaro, which ain't gonna happen... but it makes an effective carrot, illusionary as it may be-
I sent my oldest son enough money to buy a Geo - something - I don't think it was a metro, but hell, he lost me at "Geo". When he and my youngest son, Evan, come to visit for Yule, I'm giving the SS to Evan and driving them back to Tempe, where I will load up the camaro I worked so hard to build for Andrew and trailer it back to Tejas to replace the motor... God, what a fucked up mess that turned out to be.. Best intentions, blood, sweat, tears- and all for what? To make a non-stop 28 hour round trip drive to take him the car to let it remain parked for two fucking years!
uh, see how easy it is for me to get sidetracked? I didn't mean to go off on a tangent about the boys and cars, but this shit takes all my mental energy.
Any-damn-way- I just don't have the juice for all the intricacies right now. I am boiling it down to the essentials- and trying not to be too much of a hypocrite along the way. I thought my reply to his putting-me-in-my-place was interesting (in the same selfish way I find all my own shit interesting) but maybe it will give you a window to where I am, mentally right now:
Jaysus= Let's see, do I have any more balloons floating around that you can pop? Dammit boy, just stomp on my G.I.joes and tell me that Beef Jerky makes you impotent...
(actually after this latest offspring- I could live with some impotence. Damn you reproductive system, Damn you to Hell!)
Anyway, as usual, you are much smarter and introspective than me. I am surrounded by Republican lunatics, a level that even reaches into the illegal immigration population here in West Texas... Today, at a business luncheon at a local bar-b-cue joint (which actually has decent blues musicians) I was surrounded by people bitching about Obama, threatening to kill Obama, hoping someone kills Obama, and talking about how they made their kids wear black to the schools yesterday to mark the "death of the nation". I ain't shy- I told them, loudly,(and a group of Oil workers at the next table)- that they were all retarded and laughed in their faces. But, it was a front. These people actually scare the shit out of me.
Hell, man- if only every American were as intelligent and as thoughtful as you...
But they aint. They celebrate the monsters and vilify anyone who may even represent a tiny change. That these vile fake christians wanted McCain is reason enough for me to support anyone else. That they use any transparent lie as an excuse to publicly cry out for the assassination of a President because he is simply half-black is reason enough for me to fight against them. I am glad you arent in the middle of these, the Pure American brood. The chosen christian children who will happily kill anyone and everything that isnt - THEM.
I like to think I make daily gains. But sometimes I don't fucking know. It's like I'm some kind of reverse missionary for decency and independent thought. I can be an Obama supporter and even a damn liberal without too much grief, but thats mainly because I'm white too (white enough I suppose), I'm mean, and I never back down without a fight to these animals. So they leave me alone, basically, although I already have become somewhat of a pariah in this tiny community, especially with my wife working at the school and us, with the gall to have not joined a local church after a year here (Egad!) But if these people ever knew I didnt believe in THEIR God, My kids wouldn't be safe and my wife wouldn't be safe. And my pride in my beliefs is secondary to all that...
I should leave for saner pastures, I KNOW this. But this is my land, in more ways than one in my head. And I'm not ready to leave, Maybe I never will because I'm too damn stubborn.
I don't know. It's a daily conflict. One that falls to the background as I simply work and take care of my family first, and put these semi-abstract ideals behind me. It ain't like I'm fucking gandhi or even someone semi-important. I'm just a wolf in sheeps clothing out here. Taking a bite out of their asses when I can...
Maybe someday soon I will have the free time like I did at the investment firm, that will allow me the luxury of thinking deeply about politics, breathing deeply in the world's events and even managing a useful exhale now and then.
Til then, these days, my greatest contemplation is looking into Tristan's eyes and wondering how much decency and independence I can pass to him. My deepest joy is Rain's heartfelt and heart-stopping "I Love you Daddy". My noblest conversations are those between me and Amy, discussing the environment, religion, music, and freedom. And my deepest question is how to daily show Lauren just how much I love and appreciate her.
Reading his letter to me reminded me of me talking to my dumbass brother. I've got no excuse, except I've been too lazy and too apathetic to delve past the surfaces lately. All my time is spent at work, and then, working overtime from home, deep into the night, processing shit on the company site. My focus has been on the kids, the house, the bills, on my one materialistic desire, to get the new Camaro, which ain't gonna happen... but it makes an effective carrot, illusionary as it may be-
I sent my oldest son enough money to buy a Geo - something - I don't think it was a metro, but hell, he lost me at "Geo". When he and my youngest son, Evan, come to visit for Yule, I'm giving the SS to Evan and driving them back to Tempe, where I will load up the camaro I worked so hard to build for Andrew and trailer it back to Tejas to replace the motor... God, what a fucked up mess that turned out to be.. Best intentions, blood, sweat, tears- and all for what? To make a non-stop 28 hour round trip drive to take him the car to let it remain parked for two fucking years!
uh, see how easy it is for me to get sidetracked? I didn't mean to go off on a tangent about the boys and cars, but this shit takes all my mental energy.
Any-damn-way- I just don't have the juice for all the intricacies right now. I am boiling it down to the essentials- and trying not to be too much of a hypocrite along the way. I thought my reply to his putting-me-in-my-place was interesting (in the same selfish way I find all my own shit interesting) but maybe it will give you a window to where I am, mentally right now:
Jaysus= Let's see, do I have any more balloons floating around that you can pop? Dammit boy, just stomp on my G.I.joes and tell me that Beef Jerky makes you impotent...
(actually after this latest offspring- I could live with some impotence. Damn you reproductive system, Damn you to Hell!)
Anyway, as usual, you are much smarter and introspective than me. I am surrounded by Republican lunatics, a level that even reaches into the illegal immigration population here in West Texas... Today, at a business luncheon at a local bar-b-cue joint (which actually has decent blues musicians) I was surrounded by people bitching about Obama, threatening to kill Obama, hoping someone kills Obama, and talking about how they made their kids wear black to the schools yesterday to mark the "death of the nation". I ain't shy- I told them, loudly,(and a group of Oil workers at the next table)- that they were all retarded and laughed in their faces. But, it was a front. These people actually scare the shit out of me.
Hell, man- if only every American were as intelligent and as thoughtful as you...
But they aint. They celebrate the monsters and vilify anyone who may even represent a tiny change. That these vile fake christians wanted McCain is reason enough for me to support anyone else. That they use any transparent lie as an excuse to publicly cry out for the assassination of a President because he is simply half-black is reason enough for me to fight against them. I am glad you arent in the middle of these, the Pure American brood. The chosen christian children who will happily kill anyone and everything that isnt - THEM.
I like to think I make daily gains. But sometimes I don't fucking know. It's like I'm some kind of reverse missionary for decency and independent thought. I can be an Obama supporter and even a damn liberal without too much grief, but thats mainly because I'm white too (white enough I suppose), I'm mean, and I never back down without a fight to these animals. So they leave me alone, basically, although I already have become somewhat of a pariah in this tiny community, especially with my wife working at the school and us, with the gall to have not joined a local church after a year here (Egad!) But if these people ever knew I didnt believe in THEIR God, My kids wouldn't be safe and my wife wouldn't be safe. And my pride in my beliefs is secondary to all that...
I should leave for saner pastures, I KNOW this. But this is my land, in more ways than one in my head. And I'm not ready to leave, Maybe I never will because I'm too damn stubborn.
I don't know. It's a daily conflict. One that falls to the background as I simply work and take care of my family first, and put these semi-abstract ideals behind me. It ain't like I'm fucking gandhi or even someone semi-important. I'm just a wolf in sheeps clothing out here. Taking a bite out of their asses when I can...
Maybe someday soon I will have the free time like I did at the investment firm, that will allow me the luxury of thinking deeply about politics, breathing deeply in the world's events and even managing a useful exhale now and then.
Til then, these days, my greatest contemplation is looking into Tristan's eyes and wondering how much decency and independence I can pass to him. My deepest joy is Rain's heartfelt and heart-stopping "I Love you Daddy". My noblest conversations are those between me and Amy, discussing the environment, religion, music, and freedom. And my deepest question is how to daily show Lauren just how much I love and appreciate her.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
New Camaro Pricing List
Official 2010 Camaro Pricing
As long as GM doesn't go out of business before then...
Camaro Models
(prices include $750 destination)
1EE37 - Camaro LS: $22,995
1EF37 - Camaro 1LT: $24,630
1EH37 - Camaro 2LT: $27,330
1ES37 - Camaro 1SS: $30,995
1ET37 - Camaro 2SS: $34,180
Camaro Options
SRJ - Convenience and Connectivity Package-
With automatic transmission: $665-
With manual transmission: $465
W1H - Inferno Orange Interior Accent Trim Package: $500
WRS - RS Appearance Package-
With Camaro 1LT: $1,750-
With Camaro 2LT: $1.450-
With Camaro 1SS or 2SS: $1,200
B34 - Carpeted Front Floormats: $60
K05 - Engine Block Heater: $75
GAQ - Red Jewel Tintcoat Premium Paint: $295
UQA - Boston Acoustics Premium 9-speaker 245-watt Sound System: $495
N65 - Compact Spare Tire and Wheel: $150
Rally Stripe Package:B7W -
Cyber Gray Metallic Stripes: $395B7X -
White Stripes: $395
CF5 - Power Sunroof with express open and venting: $900
MX0 - Automatic Transmission with TAPshift on steering wheel: $995
19" Polished Aluminum Wheels:
Q9B - With Camaro 1LT: $720
Q9C - With Camaro 2LT: $470Q9J - 20" Polished Aluminum Wheels: $470
Camaro Accessories - Dealer Installed(prices include dealer installation)
5V5 - Body-color High Wing Spoiler: $620
VRB - Car Cover - Red with Black Stripes: $360
VRU - Car Cover - Gray with Black Stripes: $360
VTD - Body-color Ground Effects Package: $2,265-
Front splitter, side rockers, and rear diffuser with integrated exhaust bezels- Also available in Dark Argent Metallic
VYV - Hurst Short-Throw Shifter: $380VYX -
Body-color Painted Engine Cover: $285- Available in 5 colors
VYP - White Hood and Hockey Stripe: $510
VYQ - Black Hood and Hockey Stripe: $510
VYR - Cyber Gray Hood and Hockey Stripe: $510
VYO - Orange Rally Stripe Package: $470
VYY - Cyber Grey Stripe Package: $470
VYZ - White Stripe Package: $470
VZF - Silver Stripe Package: $470
VZG - Black Stripe Package: $470
VZN - 21" Wheel and Tire Package - Machined Aluminum with Black Accents: $4,680
VZP - 21" Wheel and Tire Package - Black Painted Finish: $4,865-
Wheel/Tire packages include matching center caps and lug nuts
Camaro Accessories - Over-The-Counter
ExteriorFuel Door: Satin Nickel finish
Replacement Grille Insert
Molded splash guards behind all 4 wheels- Available in 5 colors
Interior Trim kit-
Available in Victory Red, Inferno Orange, or Rally Yellow- Only available with factory
Interior Illumination Package
Subwoofer Audio Upgrade, trunk-mounted
Performance
Stainless Steel Catback Exhaust-
T-304 stainless steel- dual outlet- semi-polished muffler
Performance Air Intake-
High-polished Aluminum tube-
Free-breathing oil-less air filter
Stainless Steel Shorty Headers- Available for the V8 engine only
Special Thanks to CamaroZ28.com for providing 5thgen.org with this information: Camaro Z-28
NOTE:Convertible pricing is not yet available.Some accessory pricing is not yet available.
As long as GM doesn't go out of business before then...
Camaro Models
(prices include $750 destination)
1EE37 - Camaro LS: $22,995
1EF37 - Camaro 1LT: $24,630
1EH37 - Camaro 2LT: $27,330
1ES37 - Camaro 1SS: $30,995
1ET37 - Camaro 2SS: $34,180
Camaro Options
SRJ - Convenience and Connectivity Package-
With automatic transmission: $665-
With manual transmission: $465
W1H - Inferno Orange Interior Accent Trim Package: $500
WRS - RS Appearance Package-
With Camaro 1LT: $1,750-
With Camaro 2LT: $1.450-
With Camaro 1SS or 2SS: $1,200
B34 - Carpeted Front Floormats: $60
K05 - Engine Block Heater: $75
GAQ - Red Jewel Tintcoat Premium Paint: $295
UQA - Boston Acoustics Premium 9-speaker 245-watt Sound System: $495
N65 - Compact Spare Tire and Wheel: $150
Rally Stripe Package:B7W -
Cyber Gray Metallic Stripes: $395B7X -
White Stripes: $395
CF5 - Power Sunroof with express open and venting: $900
MX0 - Automatic Transmission with TAPshift on steering wheel: $995
19" Polished Aluminum Wheels:
Q9B - With Camaro 1LT: $720
Q9C - With Camaro 2LT: $470Q9J - 20" Polished Aluminum Wheels: $470
Camaro Accessories - Dealer Installed(prices include dealer installation)
5V5 - Body-color High Wing Spoiler: $620
VRB - Car Cover - Red with Black Stripes: $360
VRU - Car Cover - Gray with Black Stripes: $360
VTD - Body-color Ground Effects Package: $2,265-
Front splitter, side rockers, and rear diffuser with integrated exhaust bezels- Also available in Dark Argent Metallic
VYV - Hurst Short-Throw Shifter: $380VYX -
Body-color Painted Engine Cover: $285- Available in 5 colors
VYP - White Hood and Hockey Stripe: $510
VYQ - Black Hood and Hockey Stripe: $510
VYR - Cyber Gray Hood and Hockey Stripe: $510
VYO - Orange Rally Stripe Package: $470
VYY - Cyber Grey Stripe Package: $470
VYZ - White Stripe Package: $470
VZF - Silver Stripe Package: $470
VZG - Black Stripe Package: $470
VZN - 21" Wheel and Tire Package - Machined Aluminum with Black Accents: $4,680
VZP - 21" Wheel and Tire Package - Black Painted Finish: $4,865-
Wheel/Tire packages include matching center caps and lug nuts
Camaro Accessories - Over-The-Counter
ExteriorFuel Door: Satin Nickel finish
Replacement Grille Insert
Molded splash guards behind all 4 wheels- Available in 5 colors
Interior Trim kit-
Available in Victory Red, Inferno Orange, or Rally Yellow- Only available with factory
Interior Illumination Package
Subwoofer Audio Upgrade, trunk-mounted
Performance
Stainless Steel Catback Exhaust-
T-304 stainless steel- dual outlet- semi-polished muffler
Performance Air Intake-
High-polished Aluminum tube-
Free-breathing oil-less air filter
Stainless Steel Shorty Headers- Available for the V8 engine only
Special Thanks to CamaroZ28.com for providing 5thgen.org with this information: Camaro Z-28
NOTE:Convertible pricing is not yet available.Some accessory pricing is not yet available.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Living in it
"Alas, life, it is a hard thing... almost no one gets out of it alive."
It's like nothing I ever imagined.
But it's greater than I ever hoped for.
Push away the little tribulations, the petty pains, ignore the immediacy of the stress filled moment. Take yourself outside and look in. And when you close in on that inner strength, that love- that pure fucking joy that is in your center (against all odds)- blow it up, magnify it and let yourself be absorbed into it.
And let everyone around you know it, share it, be a part of it.
Sometimes this life is too short. Sometimes it feels like it's dragged on way much longer than it ever should have lasted. Don't just live in the moment. Pick and choose which moment you want to live in.
Be that moment forever. Smile bigger, love deeper. The alternative is... well, that really ain't much of an alternative, now, is it?
kirk
It's like nothing I ever imagined.
But it's greater than I ever hoped for.
Push away the little tribulations, the petty pains, ignore the immediacy of the stress filled moment. Take yourself outside and look in. And when you close in on that inner strength, that love- that pure fucking joy that is in your center (against all odds)- blow it up, magnify it and let yourself be absorbed into it.
And let everyone around you know it, share it, be a part of it.
Sometimes this life is too short. Sometimes it feels like it's dragged on way much longer than it ever should have lasted. Don't just live in the moment. Pick and choose which moment you want to live in.
Be that moment forever. Smile bigger, love deeper. The alternative is... well, that really ain't much of an alternative, now, is it?
kirk
Friday, September 26, 2008
Fuckers destined to land up in Hell
I cannot believe in a paradise
Glorious, undefiled,
For gates all scrolled and streets of gold-
are tales for a dreaming child.
.
.
I am too lost for shame
That it moves me unto mirth,
But I can vision a hell of flame
For I have lived on Earth.
.
*two fisted Bob lives on*
Bring it, Shaitan
Charmed life, my ass- that bitch is skeered.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
