An Eldritch Enlightenment

Today at work I was greeted warmly by someone I can't stand. My feelings for him aren't ambiguous- I've pointed them out rather bluntly several times. As such, you can imagine my constant confusion when this putz tries to start conversations.

I've put a lot of thought into it;

If he's doing it just because he knows it throws a monkey in my wrench- bully for him. I'd be proud to know that he's working overtime just to get my goat.

If he's doing it because he's just that fucking oblivious... it's no wonder he was turned down by four separate MBA programs.

Seriously. Fuck off.

<3

Anything Bought/Sold

Last week a friend made me feel like a commodity. While I'll eventually get over it (and no doubt they'll get over me telling them so) it's sort of reinforced my need to find my place in reality.  I'm constantly disappointed in my friends anymore. A few close friends are always there for me and look out for me, but the reality of the situation is that I fear a lot of the people I know tend to be 'friends' with me because they want something from me. Regardless of how tangible it is it still makes me feel less than stellar.

The Zen Bullet

I'm sitting in the house I grew up in. In the state I grew up in. Everything is different. I'm different. The pace down here is so slow compared to what I'm used to. What I've learned to be used to. I owe the adult I've become to this place, but somehow I feel like an outsider here. There are obvious stares and comments based on my appearance, much more so than in Philadelphia; but that's not what I mean.

I feel very lost here. Lately I've been feeling very lost everywhere.

I'm thirty four years old. Married to a wife I haven't seen in three years but who won't divorce me. In love with a girl who chose to not be in love with me anymore; who chose heartbreak over happily ever after. Constantly making a scar on my face to help cover the scar on my heart. Constantly trying to convince the people who love me that sure, yeah, I'm alright.

I'm tired. I've logged a million miles and a million lives since I left this place. The life I have now is so much more than I ever thought it would be, sleeping in this house all those years back. I've lived adventures that I could have never dreamed of back then.

But here I am now, just like always, an island unto myself.

The Rebellion against all there is

I ducked out of work today to catch a showing of Larry Bishop's HELL RIDE- a tongue in cheek throwback to the biker exploitation flicks of the 60s and 70s..... Holy Shit it was worth the trouble!

Larry Bishop was one of the most memorable supporting characters in Tarantino's KILL BILL 2, playing the sleazy owner of the titty bar that Bud (Michael Madsen) worked at. For this film he took on triple duty as writer/director/star- playing Pistolero alongside Madsen's The Gent.

Dennis Hopper, David Carradine and Vinnie Jones round out the cast along with knock-out beauty Laura Cayouette.

I'm fairly sure it was his first film as director; but he held his own. It's written in a fractured nonlinear style that unfolds as the film progresses. Tons of nudity, drug use and violence round it out. 

If it's playing near you try to catch a showing.

Jayson Kilroy. Rest in Peace

Several weeks ago, I sat in quiet contemplation thinking about the life and death of my friend Keith Alexander. Three years ago Keith was killed in a bicycle accident.  Every year on 11th July I try to deal with the ramifications of never being able to talk to my friend again. I deal with the legacy he left us, and the lessons he taught me. Death has been kind to me in my time; with few exceptions the people I care about have been safe and sound.

On Thursday morning, I woke up to a message from  Scotty in Colorado, notifying me that my friend Jayson Kilroy had been in a cycling accident and was pronounced dead on scene along with his friend Edgar Juarez.

Jayson and I weren't super-close, but he always had a kind word to say when I needed it; a snarky word when I wanted it and a sleazy word when it was warranted. He was far from perfect, but he was a friend. Of Edgar I knew nothing, but I'm told he was a very sweet guy who will, like Jayson, be greatly missed.

Whenever I hear the words "Get it" I'll remember a great kid who despite his flaws always put a smile on the faces of those he loved.

"Colorado Springs police tell 11 News one woman has been arrested for fatally hitting two cyclists with her truck Wednesday night on the west side of Colorado Springs.

It happened around 7:30 p.m. at the intersection of 26th Street and Westend Avenue.

Police say a group of about five cyclists were riding north on 26th Street when a truck heading southbound made a left hand turn and hit the two lead riders.

Two riders, 30-year-old Edgar Juarez, 30 and Jayson Kilroy, 28, both of Colorado Springs were pronounced dead on scene.

The driver of the truck, 63-year-old Barbara Thomas, has been arrested, accused of vehicular homicide, driving under the influence of drugs, and driving with a restricted license."

Love means you're afraid to be alone.

Saturday was my birthday. Thirty-four years old. I celebrated it by grabbing my best friend and dragging her along with me to NYC to get my face recut. It's an odd sort of bonding thing, I guess; but it was very much needed in my life right now and I'm glad she was able to share it with me. 

I'm far from "healed" right now as my last few entries seem to show.  Having my face recut was a step in that direction. 

when you have nothing to say, let a band say it for you.

Do I have nothing good left to say?
Do I need whiskey to start fueling my complaints?
People love to drink their troubles away.
Sometimes I feel that I'd be better off that way.

'Cause maybe then I could sleep at night.
I wouldn't lie awake until the morning light.
This is something that I'll never control.
My nerves will be the death of me, I know.
I know, I know.

So here's to living life miserable.
And here's to all the lonely stories that I've told.
Maybe drinking wine will validate my sorrow.
Every man needs a muse and mine could be the bottle.

Maybe then I could sleep at night.
I wouldn't lie awake until the morning light.
This is something that I'll never control.
My nerves will be the death of me, I know.

Finally, I could hope for a better day.
No longer holding on to all the things that cloud my mind.
Maybe then the weight of the world wouldn't seem so heavy.
But then again I'll probably always feel this way.

At least I know I'll never sleep at night. (Sleep at night)
I'll always lie awake until the morning light. (Til the morning light)
This is something that I'll never control.
My nerves will be the death of me.
My nerves will be the death of me.

My nerves will be the death of me, I know.

-City and Colour. Death of me.