Yard Sale

Title Sequence

2011-11-07T15:50:00.000-08:00

This poem isn't quite done, but I'll share it anyway since I've got nothing better to do today.

title sequence

the rest of the world will break your heart
but I am not them.
I’m a reformed Stay Puft,
a soft place to rest your head
as the voices echo
grief for dreams
they dreamed for you.
in my dreams, you’re the one dreaming.

my love for you is not blind
so much as it suffers tunnel vision.
this is a canceling of the variables
this is a reduction of the equation
so that it becomes easier to solve.
x is x is
x is our future.

why is it that new love has to be young and naive?
my love is wise beyond its years;
my love makes battlefields of thermostats;
my love has barometers for bones;
my love whispers profundities to no one,
blankets for shelter, between marathons
of Murder She Wrote and Matlock.
my love is ready to retire,
quit working so hard and just be,
laugh atop the Eiffel Tower
and show wallet sized photos
of other love it’s sprung
to passerbys who can barely speak English;
but damn if they don’t speak love.

my Carthusian heart
silent shouts quiet
from crests on your bed.

I’ve got 3-D glasses so good
your visions tickle the back of my brain until my eyes bleed.

I want to love you so hard
the mortician has to light the cigarette for my corpse
and I fall asleep excited to wake
next to you in the afterlife.

I want to kiss you so long vampires burn before the dawn
hoping to bear witness to passion
they’d only read about in Twilight.

I’ll show you yours if you show me mine,
the missing parts of our hearts
that tell us, Yes, Virginia,
there is a Santa Claus,
that show up about the time
the Neo of our love matrices does.
You are my One.

burn your love into my soul
once beauty fades, the titles roll.
crowds scoff at hour forevers,
but you as well as I know how forever flies.
You are not them.
You are not them.
You never were and could never be.
Your heart is safe, I could never break
that which I hope to keep.

What Happened?

2011-10-24T09:42:00.000-07:00

Song-a-days were going strong. Things were good. Oh, what happened to this place?

Not only have I been working a lot lately, I've been focusing on other forms of writing. Don't worry though. I plan on doing song-a-days again in the near future. To hold you over, here's the last one I did.

DAY 25
I didn't time it or anything. It sounds eerily similar to Mumford and Sons.

Am Am F C

Break yourself before the dark
The city rides, early starts
the end begins again

There’s talk of standing up this time
Bitter words from idle minds
mix blood with sin

Hate them for their call for truth
That stems from lies and rotten roots
cut gangrene from your heart

They forge on quenching shallow thirsts
The shamrock’s black, the hope is cursed
pray the yam suph parts

G Am F C
Don’t hold for sun tomorrow
Bite the chains, get a start on

C G Am
One day this is gone

Day 24 - Epic Fail

2011-09-19T16:41:00.001-07:00

Taking the last few days off was a bad idea. Today was a struggle and this isn't even really a song. It's a few disjointed couplets and no chorus. I have a feeling I will continue to care less each time this occurs.

Allocation
3:45 - 4:35
50 minutes
What I learned: Sometimes this hurts.

C E Am G

Who gets his cardboard castle when he finally dies?
Who gets the tin and tassel he always tries to hide?
Cause nothing’s a lot like something when it’s all you got
And barely getting by seems a lot like alive when everything stops

I got a lot of nothing going on in my life
So if time is money, I’m fucking rich cause all I got is time
Just give me a ride to nowhere, I’m already going there fast
I’m looking for nothing but trouble, cause nothing that’s good ever lasts

Forget the fast track, I’m getting lapped, laugh, your fat ass all day
I’ll give you the last laugh, if I can only laugh my life away
Cause I’s better before that ouija board left my mom and dad out of breath
It’s not too late to wait for fate to make the changes to my death

Day 23 - It Happened

2011-09-19T16:38:00.000-07:00

I just didn't post it. And it's really short. And I did no stats.

Friday, however, I did miss. But only because I was recording all day with a new producers. Fun stuff in the future.

Here's what would ultimately be a country song.

G C Em D

Rise with me like a Pheonix into the sky tonight
Sail winds of the sun, and illuminate the world in golden lights
Ride waves with the Martians on the shores of the planets late this evening
We’ll never make a mark if we never make a start, all we talk about is leaving

Like hey, hi, by the way goodbye
Clocks tick tock, and our schedules tight
This was a delight, my how the time flies
When you’re always on the move,
what’ve we got to lose?

Day 22 - Double Down

2011-09-14T16:27:00.000-07:00

Pretty much same spiel for this song, except I had internet yet still did not want to use a suggestion today or keep time. I may start to mix it up a bit more 'cause I'm loco like that. "Loco Like That", by the way, is my first Spanish single as soon as I get around to working on my all Spanish album.

Oh, fun fact, all my songs up to this point have been written on guitar, but I'm starting to feel confined with my chord choices. In other words, although I've come nowhere close to depleting the possible chord/rhythm combos, my brain keeps getting major deja vu and it's causing a little bit of writer's block. Pretty sure I've used this chord combo before, but it sounded completely different on the piano. Which brings me back to my point: I wrote this with the piano. I actually love how this turned out.

G Am Em C

My friends think I need to get away from here
Lock the doors, close the blinds, until my head is clear
I’m not thinking straight, my face on time, my hands are late
My soul cries out, I’m bleeding tears

You complicate things the way you kiss
The faces I dream are all the shots I've missed
Heart is shy, your passion bold, I’ll wake up dead, you’ll wake up cold
Bittersweet hellos to give

-----------CHORUS-----------
Cause I’ll fall asleep
then I'll fall in love with you

You'll wake from your dreams
and you'll break my heart in two.

This shit happens all the time,
can’t walk, I’m always crawling.
You’re stuck inside my mind
Can’t stand how I’m always falling
(Down, down in this town)
----------------------

My friends think my words get in my way
Loose with my love, I’m giving it all away
Here’s to hoping it’s this place, a simple pack, a quick erase
Fingers crossed until it takes

CHORUS

Day 21 - Yes It Exists

2011-09-14T16:21:00.000-07:00

My internet was out all yesterday so I couldn't post. Also, I guess I could have used my paper dictionary (or anything for that matter) to get a random word, but I decided to just try to come up with something organically based on how the chords made me feel. This is mostly a hook, although there might actually be two hooks for different songs in here. I don't know. The important thing is I accomplished something.

STATS: N/A (aka I didn't think to do them.)

Dm A# F C --- Capo 3

When all them bitches ask, who the fuck you with
Tell em you with us, cuz we always do it big

We throw it down, we throw one back
We drink all night til the lights turns black
Then we throw one back, we throw it down
Everybody knows we run this town

So get it lit, get it nice
Always ridin’ low, get it dirty tonight
Reach on back, we got drinks on ice
Go on and get a lift, go on and get it right

Raise your cups, Drink it up
Everybody drink free when we hit the club
Pop more bottles, cause more’s enough
If you dreaming big, we’re who you dreaming of
We're who you're dreaming of

Day 20 - Milestone

2011-09-12T14:01:00.001-07:00

Ah back to the grind. Not a lot to say. This suggestion was very similar to an old suggestion, but I decided to stick with it. It's just a crappy sing-rap verse and a prayer you will likely recognize. I tried to write an original chorus but that kept popping into my head and it fit the verse somewhat so I embraced my laziness. Hey, at least I did something. Actually the hardest part of all this was finding chords that struck me. It just wasn't happening for me today.

suggestion: consciousness
start - 1:20
end - 1:59
39 minutes
What I Learned: I have something in common with Biggie, Snoop Dogg and Metallica. We've all used "Now I lay me down to sleep" in songs.

G Am Em C
Keep seeing this dream
For the life of me, I don’t know what it means
But it seems, that scenes I haven’t seen
Are stuck with me and they’re never gonna leave
Would you please, please believe
These memories on my chest won’t ever let me breathe
Can’t scream, nothing comes out no one comes for me
So I plead, should I cease, for quiet peace
When I die, at least a little rest
To those souls who’s soul my soul just left.

Now I lay me down to sleep, 
I pray the Lord my soul to keep, 
If I shall die before I wake,
 I pray the Lord my soul to take.

Day 19 - Raincheck

2011-09-10T16:52:00.000-07:00

I missed yesterday due to lack of shit to give and non-priority things that took priority over writing a song. So I'm cashing in the raincheck I subconsciously gave you for you on a glorious Saturday in LA. This song started off dangerously close to being pure cheddar cheese. That is, a song so cheesy it makes you nauseous because you were already lactose intolerant to begin with. Luckily, I used a bit of skillful wordplay to turn it into a song about two lovers running from the law, although that's just what I, the so-called "writer" of the song, think it's about, and I could very well be wrong.

suggestion: rainbow
start 4:26
end 4:46
20 minutes
What I learned: Push through ideas that make you want to check your pants for signs of remaining masculinity until your work becomes so vague you could pretty much be referring to anything. Also, a catchy tune is even better at disguising crap than Christmas paper and a pretty ribbon.

A E F#m D - capo 5

I’ve got a little bit of sunshine I keep for cloudy days
I’ve got a mason jar of rainbows I save for when it rains

CHORUS
Whatever the weather, whether it’s wetter
It’s forever better when we’re together
And haven’t you met her? I bet her we’re better
Whenever the letter arrives

And we can finally say goodbye
We got to go, got to fly
I know this comes as a surprise
This was really nice, nice to meet you, but goodbye
---------

I’ve got a pocket full of keys I keep to open doors
I’ve got a suitcase of disguises we wear when we get bored

CHORUS

I’ve got six shooters in my glovebox when the game’s too close to call
I’ve got a pocket lined with dirt, so we don't have to take a fall

CHORUS

Day 18 - Words To Your Mother

2011-09-08T13:39:00.000-07:00

I wanted to challenge myself a little bit or at least do something different so this is sort of a puzzle song. As in, the suggestion was acronym which immediately made me think of an acrostic poem. So I wrote my "Y axis" letters out, creating a message I assumed I would find to be true - "Fuck this is really hard." I then set further boundaries, (1) the first word in each stanza had to be that stanza's particular acrostic, and (2) that stanza's first line had to end with the remaining words in the acrostic. Hopefully it makes more sense to see it.

I hate this as a song even though it works for the most part, but I guess as a word puzzle it's OK.

Suggestion: Acronym
Start: 11:30am
end: 12:00
30 minutes
What I learned: Acrostics aren't as hard as I thought they'd be. That being said, this song didn't turn out all that great and it doesn't exactly make sense.

D A Em G

FUCK, this is really hard
Unless you know just what to do
Count your blessings when things begin to click
Knowledge always pulls you through

THIS is really hard
How do you survive with all these words?
I feel the paper walls caving in on me
Silencing things I want to verb.

IS REality this? This is really hard
Surely no one truly lives this way
Reclusive with their little tricks games
Entertained by all their quiet days

ALLY hard?
Look I didn’t think I’d be getting this excited
Lame excuse, but I swear it’s true
You usually seem to like it.

HARD?
Anything at all would be harder than this
Really it’s just a bunch of shit on a page
Dreaming of the money we’ll get.

Day 17 - Story Time!

2011-09-07T19:53:00.000-07:00

Pretty sure this is the final verse of a longer story, but you'll get a snippet of the whole thing. I'd like to go back and finish the song telling the whole story. In my mind at the beginning, the king has just lost his wife to the plague that's killing everyone. And despite everyone else's pain the king can only think of his own. So when he stares out at his enemy riding in to take advantage of his weak position, he resigns himself to death. Pretty heartwarming but what did you expect? Dick jokes?

suggestion: Protection
start: 6:58
end: 7:50
42 total
What I Learned: I searched for Protection and I found a religious website that preached against hundreds of occult symbols that show up in our everyday lives. Save your children, "especially [this particular religion's] children" (direct quote) from things like the U.S. one dollar bill. (Because of it's all seeing eye on the back). So the U.S. trusts in God, but apparently he doesn't trust them...

Em G D A

The frightened king sat upon his throne
and watched his kingdom down below
So much pain, grief, despair,
People dying everywhere.

The king told guards, one and all
Fetch every rock, build up my walls.
Shut me off, from the earth
The guards did that without a stir.

Through tiny window, he watched for death
He wondered which were wasted breaths
As they filled the final stone
The king cried out to those below

Please forgive me, if the city burns down before my very eyes
Please miss me, when I’m history, cause my cowardice is lies
You should have seen me, seen the real me, before my lover died.
You would have loved me, that’s your real king,
the one that would have saved your lives
Oh but I’m no longer he, He’s no longer I

Day 16 - Back to Nature

2011-09-06T12:38:00.000-07:00

After I finish these things the last thing I want to do is usually write more. So here it is...

suggestion: plant
start: 11:15 am
end - 12:35 pm
1 hr 20 minutes
What I learned: Staving isn't technically a word but I Shakespeared that shit.

F C Dm Bb - capo 5

In the kingdom of the plants
In the woods among the trees
There’s no one so revered as ants
They build their castles underneath the leaves

If you stop and hold your breath
You can hear them marching on
Seeking life and staving death
From dawn to dusk and dusk to dawn

And isn’t it strange, isn’t it funny
How they live their lives without need for money
While we sift through greed out in the streets
In the concrete prison that we like to keep,
let it go and fly away

In the kingdom of the fish
Under the sea away from man
If you only had one wish
You’d choose to be a grain of sand

They’ve seen it all, they know the secrets
Housed in truth, they’ve forgotten evil
If you have to know, if you can’t but seek it
The price to pay is the company of people

And isn’t it strange, isn’t it funny
How they live their lives without need for money
While we sift through greed out in the streets
In the concrete prison that we like to keep,
let it go and fly away

Day 15 - Dolla Dolla Bills Y'all

2011-09-05T17:30:00.001-07:00

Happy Labor Day! I was planning on taking today off, and I'm not sure why I wrote something instead of hanging out at the pool. Oh, well. No big lead in. Another rap verse and short hook that I will probably revisit in the future and finish because I like where it's going. Dirty words. Enjoy.

suggestion: Opinion
start: 4:34
End - 5:25
51 minutes

Em G D Bm - capo 7

You bitches jealous of the money that I’m makin'
If I wanted your opinion, I’d take it, I’d take it

You critics all jealous of the money that I’m makin’
If I wanted your opinion, I’d fucking take it,
I’m on the way to made it, bitch you just maid it
I hit it so good, all ya pussies can’t fake it
I’m using the system, I ain’t create it
Don’t have to think about the game, I just play it
But you chokin’ on your tokin’, like a toddler in an arcade
I’m breathing all the smoke in, and you a dinosaur already
Came here to party, where the party at?
Girl, your fad is faded, but I’ll bring you back
Like I’ll take you home, then I’ll make you known
While I get the throne all these others get thrown

Day 14 - Ballot of Yesterday

2011-09-04T16:27:00.000-07:00

I actually did part of this on Friday when I was supposed to, but I had to run to a show before I had a chance to finish it, etc. Well I finally got around to it today and as I was about to post an incomplete song, parts of the final lines came to me and I was able to finish. I'm pretty pleased with the outcome. My suggestion was ballot and when I googled it for ideas, this snippet of one definition is the first thing that caught my eye, "a device used to record choices". And I thought, like our memory?

Suggestion - Ballot
Start - 7:53PM
End 8:18PM
Total time - 25 minutes, plus about 20 today, so 45 minutes
What I learned: I enjoy puns. Ballot of Yesterday? Get it? Because ballot is close to ballad? Well it's not funny once I have to explain it.

*The lines that I wrote today are in italics. The end of the chorus was cool because it was an example of how thinking from a different perspective can give you what you need. I had previously been thinking we were fighting some physical "them" figure but couldn't figure out what. It wasn't until I realized that today, tomorrow and yesterday were personifications and the "they"s I was thinking of that everything feel into place.

Verse - C Am x 3,
Pre-chorus - Em Am Em G
Chorus - F G C Am

Everyday we’re faced with choices,
all the voices calling for us
Force us to live life like tourists
fodder for brochures, we’re being bred
And maybe it’s all in my head,

But I, I’m calling for a call to arms
So light the fires, someone sound the alarms
We’ll rise, we’ll fight today, forgive tomorrow
for another yesterday

Everyday we’re getting older
Race to the end, maybe we should hold up
Quit breaking mirrors, find some clovers
it’s all one line, we’re being led
And maybe it’s all in my head,

But I, I’m calling for a call to arms
So light the fires, someone sound the alarms
We’ll rise, we’ll fight today, forgive tomorrow
for another yesterday

Day 13 - Getting Lazy

2011-09-02T00:02:00.000-07:00

So for some reason I've been a little more judgmental of the songs as of late. This one fails my test and despite the fact that I've written worse and this is just an experiment of sorts, I'm hesitant to post it. I feel like it's a lazy effort on my part in some way. Perhaps it was lazy because I'm hungover. Yet another one verse, shit chorus. Guess those are my specialty...

Suggestion: Outgoing
start: 1:40
end: 3:00
What I learned: Bleh. Shit sounds good when your head's already full of it.

Bm A G D
Hi girl, you’re a pretty fly girl
Are you high girl, or are you just shy girl?
Either way’s okay, you can be my girl
I can show you my world. My world,
It’s a bird’s eye view all the way at the top
Heaven’s next door, yeah I go there a lot
Cuz my life’s been mostly divine intervention
The elevator’s quick when you’ve only good intentions

Hey miss can I steal a kiss, maybe two if I really persist
Don’t say no, don’t resist, I wrote you a hook and it goes like this

Day 12 - The Land of First Verses

2011-08-31T12:04:00.000-07:00

Did I ever say these needed to be full songs? If I didn't, I'm still not saying it right now. So much pressure is off when you only have to come up with part of a song. I imagine there's a lot less stress on a rapper to come up with a verse than for the Red Hot Chili Peppers to finish a song. Oh wait, maybe that's not a good analogy as the newest RHCP album is not quite as quality. I mean, they got away with tossing a bunch of non sequiturs on top of catchy tunes once, of course we were going to catch on if they tried that again. Anyways, here's another rap(pish) song for ya. Which brings me back to what I started with, it's just a verse (and a shitty filler chorus).

suggestion: arrest
start: 11:22
end: 12:00
38 minutes
What I learned: Further solidification of the theory that it's best to push away from immediate ideas the suggestion stirs up.

G Am7 Em Em

Hold girl, can I steal a kiss?
I’m shoplifting chocolate, and I heard ye is
sweet like candy, this just can’t be
need a back up back up, need a plan c
You got my heart locked up, cardiac arrest
Cessation of the rhythm, my brain can attest
You got me shook up, you got the hook up
your love’s some drugs, I never think I took enough
It’s an addiction, my affliction’s a depiction of your thoughts
Don’t wanna give directions to your heart, I’m always lost
Like I lost, it’s like I’m off,
But I still control the ball, the problem’s not my toss
It’s the score, it’s all yours
I’m scoring more points but your points are worth more
And isn’t that the way that it always is
Hearts take from the collection when they supposed to give?

Ooh, ya takin all my love
Ooh, ya’ve taken all my love

Day 11 - The Day that almost wasn't

2011-08-31T00:21:00.001-07:00

In case you can't guess from the time, this song almost didn't happen. Hurt my finger so I had to create music on garage band to do something over instead. This one turned out to be a rap. As much as I struggled I like elements of it, I will definitely revisit it in the future.

Suggestion: Unconscious
Start - 10:45
end - 12:20
Time to finish - tired, you do the math
What I learned: I like sleep.

(some drums, loops and simple chords on garage band, i believe in the key of D)

Summertime came and summertime went
Only way I know’s by the money I spent
Cash for Bentley’s cash for hos.
Cash for Carlos on chick patrol
We dreamin, keep blinging,
it’s semen, they fiendin,
to seize it and keep it,
hit this shiz, this weed is creepin,
Creeping and sneaking up on me
Exactly like the po-police
Could someone puh-puh-please tell me
Why they lockin it down and sayin it’s free?
Hold up, I thought I told ya
I’m pretty shallow, watch out I’ll shoal ya
Get caught up, attention soldier
Colorado air, that's right I’m Boulder
No time for skeptics, we getting older
Call you Skully, hit it like Mulder
Get up in it in a minute
once we spin it we can win it
Pretending that it’s ending
when really we just end it

This is the chorus, the verses force us
To listen to noises and question the forces
Enormous torque is required for its
High pitched voices, wonder whose the choice is?

Day 10 - In My Basement

2011-08-29T15:47:00.001-07:00

Taking the weekend off is probably a bad idea as it was much harder to sit down and start today. But once I finally got going it was fairly easy writing. Probably spent twenty minutes wording and rewording the final lines, and I'm still not satisfied but it works somewhat so I'll leave it for now and rewrite later if I do anything with the song.*

*Fixed it. I like this much better. I'll leave the old lines at the very bottom next to their own asterisk so you can agree that the difference is better!

Suggestion: Basement
3:01 start
3:46 end
45 minutes to finish
What I learned: Actually nothing. Except maybe that there are days when my brain doesn't work that well because I had to look up rhyming words for "here".

Am Em F C -- Capo 5

In my basement are some secrets best kept secret
But if you’re good at keeping secrets you can keep them
Cuz I don’t want them, I don’t need them, I’ve been meaning
To up and leave them, once I see they’re finally sleeping
I’ll say

I’m gone, I’m on my way
Different me, different day
Shed this life, I’ll be OK
Take me away

In my closet are some bones that won’t stop knocking
Can’t keep them buried, they always break the locks in
And I hate them, want to take them and make them disappear.
Once I’ve escaped them, and the coast is finally clear
I’ll say

I’m gone, I’m on my way
Different me, different day
Shed this life, I’ll be OK
Take me away

*And I hate them, want to take them and finally make them
disappear. I’ll have a beer, once I’ve escaped them,
(The old lines, and Ewww if I don't say so myself. What an awful rhyme scheme!)

Day 9 - Back to Normal

2011-08-26T18:13:00.000-07:00

As hilarious as yesterday's song was, I really wanted to get back to some normal lyrics which was ironic because the suggestion I got was "normal". I had actually spent all morning trying to write a new song or at least a new hook/chorus to no avail. Then lo and behold I get a random word and presto, the song comes easily. I spent 2 hours on what is a fragment of a song but that time is deceiving because I also watched most of Thank You For Smoking in between as well.

Suggestion: Normal
Time Start - 2:51, finish - 4:51
Total - 2 hours
What I learned: Sometimes you just need a word to get you an easy start. Taking a random word and using it to start a sentence or phrase is a great way to escape writer's block. This song also reinforced following the song instead of leading it. I tried hard to force another idea onto it and that effort ultimately failed and led to this.

G D Em C
Normally, I’m a little more shy,
but I’m about to leave, couldn’t bear to say good bye
Without your name, number and a promise that you’ll answer,
I’ll be your music man, you can be my tiny dancer

Normally, I’d be walking out the door
You’d be talking to some dude, looking pretty, bored
But I had to make you laugh if only for a while
hate to think it’d be the day no one saw you smile

Day 8 - It's Back

2011-08-25T18:15:00.000-07:00

Yay! The triumphant return. Work sucked. Unemployment is better once the bills are paid. I wrote a song I'm hesitant to share, but I will do so because I don't want to continue pretending that I'm too busy to do one of these daily. Just be glad I'm not sharing the very first draft of this. That was really awkwardly offensive. I changed some of the bad language but the song is pretty sexual so if that bothers you.

Suggestion: Customary
Start - 3:55, finish 4:32 -- 37 minutes
What I Learned: Follow the song if it takes you somewhere new. This went in a completely different direction than I planned or expected and I think it's a little stronger for it.

C Em Am F -- Capo 4

When two people fall in love
They might decide that love just ain’t enough

After those people go get wed
Under the covers they slowly get undressed

And it’s customary for the man to get on top
And assuming the woman isn’t asking him to stop

He goes in and out and in and out and in and out again
And on and on and on and on
That’s how the Preacher makes love.

When two people fall in love
They might decide that love just ain’t enough

Those two people get in bed
And they both know, though no one stops and says

Although it’s customary to get married we’re too young
We’re screwing other people, let’s just have a little fun

I’ll go in and out and up and down and all around for now
And on and on and on and on
That’s how your Uncle makes love.

When two people fall in love
They might decide that love just ain’t enough

One of them is brave enough to ask
I’d like to switch it up how about trying out the ass?

After sex it’s customary to feel ashamed and really guilty
But for now forget about it, I’m feeling pretty filthy

I’ll go in your butt and in your mouth and in your butt and in your mouth
And on and on and on and on and on
That’s how your mom and me make love.

Song a Day - Day 7 - Last Resort

2011-08-11T15:57:00.000-07:00

A week of songs daily. Nice. Can't decide if that's an accomplishment to be proud of or simply proof of my lack of a life. I'm actually probably going to have to take a break for a few days as I will be spending 14 hours days on a short film set until next week. I will post a new song when I can but I make no promises. So this may be the last Song a Day until next week. Sad panda.

Suggestion: Despair
Start - 3:29, End - 3:49, Total - 20 minutes
What I learned: My life is sadder than I thought as this is a much more accurate reflection of my game than yesterday's song. Once again I pushed away from directly using the suggestion. Despair made me think of desperation...

Capo 4 -- Dm Am E Am
All alone on a Friday night
Looking round the bar ain’t a girl in sight
Been months since I brought girl back
Tonight was the night thought I’d get it on track

Scroll through contacts, sending out texts
No responses, but what did I expect?
Last girl’s labeled Don’t Do It To Yourself
I’ll just keep it a secret, I mean who would I tell?

I’m calling my last resort girl
Not my first choice, she my last resort girl
I’m calling my last resort girl
Others turned me down, you’re my last resort girl

She writes back, I call her up
Say I'm kind of lonely how bout a little love
I hold my breath, but she just laughs
Her first choice is on his way, and I would be her last

I called up my last resort girl
Turns out I’m a last resort for her
I called up my last resort girl
Just got shot down by my last resort girl

Song a Day - Day 6 - Club Music

2011-08-10T19:17:00.000-07:00

Yeah! A fun song that's not ridiculous. Relatively speaking. It's the first song I haven't gone directly off the suggestion. Meaning, I got the suggestion Bitter and considered writing a song about a bitter ex or something along those lines but ultimately pushed past that. Bitter made me think of bitters which made me think of drinks at the club. Without further adieu...

Suggestion: Bitter
Start - 6:51, Finish - 7:15, Total - 24 minutes
What I learned: I could probably write songs for Drake or one of those other guys.

Capo 5, Am C G F
I’m sipping drinks in the club, where everybody’s lonely
Ladies show a little love, won’t somebody take me home please
Cause I got a couple moves, and I promise you gone like them
These honeys get into a groove, grind up on me, well all right then

I’ll take you on back where you can take your clothes off
Then I’ll dim the lights sit on back and watch you show off
Tonight it’s you and me and another two or three
When I’m buying all the drinks, all the ladies follow me
We going home,
We going home.

I’m shopping at the mall, girls buying shit they don’t need
I wish I could meet you all, I know you’d like to meet me
Cause I got a couple mil, and that’s only in my pockets
If these honey want a thrill, you know I ain’t gone stop it

I’ll take you on back where you can take your clothes off
Then I’ll dim the lights sit on back and watch you show off
Tonight it’s you and me and another two or three
When I’m buying all the drinks, all the ladies follow me
We going home,
We going home.

Song a Day - Day 5 - I'm Not a Bad Person, I Swear

2011-08-09T19:35:00.000-07:00

But this next song is gonna make me seem like one. Oh well. It's what came out of my brain when I sat down this evening. At the risk of seeming malicious, I will post it for the sake of furthering the creative world.

suggestion: Adviser
start: 7:00, end: 7:34, 34 minutes
What I learned: Apparently I would beat my children for asking questions. However, I don't support child abuse, nor do I find it particularly funny. This just happens to be written from the perspective of someone who might. Also, I do not have kids for the record. And I have not hit a kid since I was a kid and it was fair. Although I bet there are plenty of "kids" who could easily kick my ass these days.

Capo 7 -- C Am E E
Got issues? Get a tissue
Did you think I’d listen dude, dude did you?
Who you think I bitch to? I get pissed too
I sift through my issues, don’t make me pistol whip you

Want advice? Ask me real nice
here’s my advice, you should try someone wise
Yeah, that’s advice, I’m not gone say it twice
I’m getting drunk as fuck, stick around, you wanna fight?

Fuck off, I got my own problems
Nothing’s so big, a fifth of whiskey can’t solve ‘em
Fuck off, don’t wanna hear your problems
I just hit the bong, ain’t no way I’m gonna solve them
ain’t no way I’m gonna solve them

If I had to advise her, I’d say her thunder thighs are
Getting kinda big, she might try exercise or
Brown rice, sure, those nights her
Guy lies with alibis, she’s none the wiser

And my kid’s, like daddy what’s this?
Go ask your sis, cause I don’t give a shit
But that kid, always persists
I take a big rip, then I kiss him with a fist

Fuck off, I got my own problems
Nothing’s so big, a fifth of whiskey can’t solve ‘em
Fuck off, don’t wanna hear your problems
I just hit the bong, ain’t no way I’m gonna solve them
ain’t no way I’m gonna solve them

Day 4 - Just Wow

2011-08-08T17:57:00.000-07:00

Seriously, wow. What have I written? This is literally the weirdest* thing I've ever written. I have no idea what possessed me to do it. I'm a bit hungover and delirious so maybe that's it. I actually do think there's a funny concept here, I'm not sure this draft captures as much funny as strange. And before you go philosophizing over the meaning behind the lyrics, don't bother. There are absolutely no euphemisms in the lyrics. They are meant to be taken extremely literally.
*the weirdest thing I will ever admit** to writing
**I will probably admit to weirder things for the sake of comedy

Suggestion: Biscuit
start - 5:33, end - 5:53, 20 minutes
What I Learned: I have a really weird mind. Twenty minutes? Is there any correlation to odd and whimsical songs?

D Bm G A - Capo 7
If you’re wondering what I do for breakfast, I lick biscuits
Not the dirty biscuit, the kind of biscuit you might have in your kitchen
If you think that’s weird, well I don’t care, you can just go stick it.
I like my biscuits super hot, but not so hot that it's hard to lick them

I’m licking biscuits
I’d sure miss it
The biscuit gets it
He lets me lick him
(x2)

When I finish licking biscuits, I like to stuff a kitten
Not the dirty kitten, but the kind of kitten you might have as a pet
They’re dead of course, it’s way too hard to stuff live kittens
You can find lots of them in the dump behind the vet.

I’m stuffing kittens
I’d sure miss it
The kitten gets it
Just like the biscuit

I’m licking biscuits
I’d sure miss it
The biscuit gets it
He lets me lick him

At You

2011-08-07T18:06:00.000-07:00

This is more like it. Cheesy love songs were what I expected to see the most of from this experiment, not songs I can actually perform in public like the last two. Although this is a tad sappy for my taste and not my best writing, there's something I really like about it. What I like is actually in the melody so sorry I still can't share that part with you. Soon, when I care to stumble through several FAQs about blogspot.

Suggestion: Dual
Time started: 5:23; Time finished: 5:58; Time to completion: 35 minutes
What I Learned: Sam Cooke sang "What a Wonderful World". Before this, I knew some guy sang a song about "not knowing much about history". After I'd written the first few lines, I realized I was ripping off, excuse me, paying homage to, his song. Also, I learned a bit about dualism, which is where I got the first line about Yin and Yang. Oh yeah, and a song can be however short I need it to be to move on to something else.

G D Am C - Capo 4
Don’t know much about yin and yang
Don’t know much about cars or planes
All I know’s the way I feel today
When you look at me that way

If I wrote the things I know nothing about
I’d fill at least a thousand books,
But if I want to know, what keeps me hanging on
There’s only one place to look,
at you.

Don’t know much about the moon or the sun
Don’t know much about Frost or Donne
All I know’s my world’s with you
That’s the kind of thing, I got no need to prove

If I wrote the things I know nothing about
I’d fill at least a thousand books,
But if I want to know, what keeps me hanging on
There’s only one place to look,
at you.

Rubber Lover

2011-08-06T18:11:00.001-07:00

I tried to recover from a hangover with afternoon drinking in the sun. Then I fell asleep and when I woke everyone had left me to go eat shitty Mexican food at El Carmen, which is the bane of dreams for awesome Saturday nights all over Los Angeles. Bottom line, I'm glad I missed out. Because I wouldn't have gotten bored and decided to write a new song today. And also because I would have spent the rest of the night in bathrooms around Hollywood and Silverlake. I'm already discovering new things about myself from this challenge so I think I'll add a "What I learned" to my posts from now on. Speaking of which, still haven't learned how to put up mp3s and to be honest, I don't foresee myself doing it for at least another week.

Suggestion: Rubber
start 5:15 -- finish 5:55 -- 40 minutes to completion
What I learned: I have a seriously twisted sense of humor. And sometimes you have to make tasteless choices for the sake of a catchy rhyme and surprise.

C F Am G
You know I really love her, she’s my greatest lover,
I kiss and squeeze and hug her every day
No way I’d need another, now that my only lover’s
finally here to stay

She fulfills all my wishes, but she don’t do the dishes,
cuz I don’t ever want to wear her down
when we go out to dinner, They all know I’m a winner
She’s let’s me all up in her, all over town

I got a rubber lover,
don’t need no other lover,
don’t even need a rubber,
she don’t have eggs

I got a rubber lover
don’t need no other lover
don’t need to tie and smother
this lover doesn’t have legs
Legs were extra

You know I really loved her, she was my greatest lover,
I miss her kiss her hugs her loving love every day
No way I’d love another, now that my only lover’s
finally done and gone away

She’s probably in some dump, among that other trash
Popped my lover cutting out a hole for her ass
Luck must have really missed her, cause he gave her sisters
I bought them all it’s just like having her back

I got a rubber lover,
and lots of other lovers,
don’t even need a rubber,
they don’t have eggs

I got a rubber lover
don’t have to deal with mothers
don’t need to tie and smother
these lovers don’t have legs
Legs were extra

Song-a-Day

2011-08-05T18:05:00.000-07:00

So I'll probably regret making this goal after only a few days, but I am laying down a challenge to myself to post one song per weekday. But not just any song. It has to be a song I wrote that day. And not a song I've been planning to write either. I will get a suggestion from a Random Word Generator and write a song inspired by that suggestion as quickly as possible. I will also write my start and end time to get an idea of how long writing a song takes for me and if there's any correlation between time spent and the overall quality of the song.

Do I really think I can write 250 songs in a year? Absolutely not. But I'll try for a few days. After all, my biggest talent is not finishing things so if I fail, I'm only reinforcing one of the things I'm great at.

I sort of set the bar a little high for myself already as this is the song I wrote today.

Suggestion: Expressway
Time Started - 2:01, Time Completed - 2:47, Time to Completion - 46 minutes

Em C G D

Always building, all these buildings, all these bills, filled with chilly feelings
minds reeling, is this real, feelin real ill, can’t stop the ceiling
from closing in on me, collapse upon these hopes and dreams
straight through the seams, and though the seamstress seems to know these things
she don’t stop, why not? what’s the problem? watch em hop like concrete goblins
can’t beat it, join the mob then, the pyramid’s weight rests on the bottom
can we just pretend, it will end, you smoothed out the edges what’s left to mend
we all break, can’t seem to bend, first the 405, what’s next the 10?

Leave my expressway alone
Don’t tell me surface streets are the best way home. they’re not

No expressway, esse, what’s the best way, some kid asked me in his essay,
Let’s say, better yet, let’s pray, that the cars are far, and not driving this way
Google maps where ya at, I expect the haps, hope you have a laugh
If this weren’t serious, it’d be a gas, but people relapse after two or three laps
In the traffic, you lose good habits, nuns run around, where’s my hat who has it
so tragic, no faith in magic, environment’s illusion, use it, take it’s rabbit.
Shame we put the blame in politics, after all we all crackheads waiting on our fix
give me free money, Quick, I need this shit, disappearing green is our only trick

*Can't figure out how to upload songs so I will have to save that for the future.

True Poetry

2011-07-20T09:39:00.000-07:00

I had trouble working out yesterday because I was laughing so hard at this sight, which seemed best captured in a poem.

A Tail of Two Bros

I wish you could have seen
how the one Bro stood
close behind with his hands
upon the other’s hips,
as they transformed
a Triceps exercise
into Animalistic Thrusting.
He cheered his friend on
with Forceful Whispering,
“Keep pushing, Bro.
We’re going to get
so much pussy.”

Tricker's Treats

2010-11-03T18:37:00.000-07:00

On Halloween I watched a kid go up to a guy sitting outside of Solar Del Cahuenga and say "trick or treat." The guy pulled a cigarette from his pack and put it in the kid's pumpkin bag. The kid's mother wasn't fazed. She looked like she could use one or several.

Haiku

2010-10-17T16:05:00.000-07:00

For fun, I rearranged some song lyrics that I wrote a while back into a haiku and submitted it to a contest Julie Gray hosted on her screenwriting website: Just Effing Entertain Me.

It's a good source for aspiring writers to add to their list of procrastination tools.

You can read my haiku and some much better haikus here.

I'm busy with comedy and writing and rainy days in LA.

That's all.

Children's Literature

2010-10-09T00:37:00.000-07:00

A list of children's books you probably won't find on the shelves this year.

Daddy Doesn’t Hate You, He Just Doesn’t Know You Exist
-- A discussion of birds and bees and the mistakes they make.

Imaginary Monsters
-- How to make a problem go away by pretending it isn’t real.

Big Brother’s Time Out
-- Timmy's older brother borrowed a car without asking and will be in time out for the next 3 to 5.

Nose Candy
-- Uncle Ricky comes to visit and brings his special energy sugar.

The Secret Land Under the Stairs
-- Suzie learns that when she’s hiding in the closet under the stairs, it’s harder to hear mommy and daddy yell at each other.

Grandma’s Last Magic Trick
-- The intricacies of how we all eventually disappear forever.

Deep Inside the Crystal Caverns
-- Hobo Jim’s adventures with methamphetamine.

Don’t Drink From Mommy’s Sippy Cup, It’s Filled With Poison and Only Big Kids Have the Antidote
-- An introduction to the reasons Mommy gets grumpy and takes long naps on the kitchen floor.

Passive Agressive Panda

2010-10-05T13:13:00.000-07:00

Dear Panda Express,

You should probably take your own advice and give out fortunes that are a bit more optimistic.

TV Re-Imagined

2010-10-03T13:40:00.000-07:00

I don’t have cable so when I hear people talking about the latest episode of their favorite TV show, I have to make a quick assumption about the kind of show they’re describing. It’s either that or trust Wikipedia, which I don’t.

-----
The Hard Times of RJ Berger

About: Examines the hard times of RJ, the man behind the mask of the Hamburglar, who falls from Ronald McDonald’s good graces after eating an Apple Pie.

Kinda Like: The story of Adam and Eve meets “Oz” in and around a dilapidated McDonald’s.

Tagline: The burger they are, the harder they fall.

You might hear me say: Ha! Mayor McCheese’s hat is way too small for his head!

-----
MTV Cribs

About: Celebrity babies and their accessories.

Kinda Like: "Look Who’s Talking" meets an upper class version of Ikea for infants.

Tagline: Rock-a-Buy some expensive shit!

You might hear me say: How pompous are these celebrity babies?

-----
30 Rock

About: An in-debt astronaut with a good heart discovers valuable crack rocks on another planet and a battle for the resources ensues much to the dismay of the native inhabitants.

Kinda Like: "The Wire" meets "Avatar".

Tagline: Scratch your itch on NBC this fall.

You might hear me say: I’ve only smoked crack once, so it’s kind of hard for me to relate to the main character.

-----
Fringe

About: A retired tailor has one last job -- to keep the President’s sweater from completely unraveling or Communism wins.

Kinda Like: "24" meets "Project Runway".

Tagline: Keep pulling.

You might hear me say: America!

-----
Private Practice

About: A satirical look at the exclusion policies of professional sports practices.

Kinda Like: "The Skulls" meets Sportscenter.

Tagline: Coming This Summer, By Invitation Only

You might hear me say: I just can't get into to this show.

-----
Grey’s Anatomy

About: The sexual exploration of teenage Darcy Grey in a musical format.

Kinda Like: High School Musical meets late night Cinemax.

Tagline: Biology has never been so much fun.

You might hear me say: I thought they were going to show more boob.

Save the Cat

2010-09-24T09:40:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago I wrote the nice people at the Save the Cat website showing them how Blake Snyder's beat sheet also applied to the film Memento, despite it's reverse storytelling technique.

Well, they posted it as a blog today, so CHECK IT OUT.

Great Pickup Moments in Biblical History

2010-09-08T10:29:00.000-07:00

Sorry, it's been a while. It's a lot harder than one would think to scrape together rent in Los Angeles while recording an album and writing new material. Speaking of the album -- new tracks occasionally come out on my Myspace Page -- they won't always be the final version of the song, but for certain things I consider immediacy more important than perfection. When the album is finished I will probably release it for free on this site so check back in the next two months or so for that.

This intro is longer than the real post, so without further ado, I give you a Great Pickup Moment in Biblical History:

"Real lions?" the girl asked, pulling up her tunic to show a bit of ankle.
"Oh, yeah," Daniel replied. "I drew some pictures on the dirt floor of my tent. I'd love to show you sometime."

Jello

2010-07-09T20:23:00.000-07:00

This here’s a machete, and I know how to use it, he says, but he says it mash-e-tay so it’s hard to take him serious.

But he’s swinging it around nonetheless so I shut up. One thing you could say about me is I know when to shut the hell up.

He’s yelling something about time and destiny like everything’s already been laid out. After he runs out of steam with that topic it's on to Keats, but he gets it wrong. He's saying, Booty is truth, truth booty, and for a minute I consider if his way doesn't make more sense. Then he turns his focus on jello, and finally decides it’s jello that’s the problem in the first place. He makes me swear never to eat it again and lets me go free.

When I’m walking down the front steps into the light for the first time in days is when I wonder if he meant jello pudding. 'Cause when it comes to jello pudding, all bets are off.

Tequila and the Pecos

2010-06-19T20:21:00.000-07:00

After I pass through New Mexico I don’t once stop in Texas. Last time I drove through was a few years back for a crazy gig outside El Paso when the band was still going strong. A light fixture fell on Ricky during his solo, and we got heckled when Dan mispronounced the Pecos River. All was forgotten by the end of the set so we headed back to the motel to get down to drinking.

Ricky and Carl talked trash all the way to the room, and soon as we walked inside Ricky knocked Carl clean out. A little blood on his lip but we knew he was all right by the rumbling snores he let loose from the floor.

Rest of us drank Cuervo til sunrise when we walked out into the Texas sun. I went around to the side of the motel to smoke a cigarette and looked down to find a dead calf. It was about ten feet away but well rotted so the smell was thick in my nostrils. All of a sudden I sensed the tequila coming back up, and I leaned down to vomit, the last night’s Tex-Mex mixing with the sand and splashing on the wall nearby.

Then it was an hour later and the band’s packed up, ready to move on to the next town, my stomach settled long before the hard Texas dust at the bottom of my boots.

Subtitled Love

2010-06-01T12:08:00.000-07:00

Her bed is like Telemundo,
I don’t always understand what’s going on,
but I can tell there’s passion.
I need subtitles for her love.
Then again, it’s not so much what’s being said
as how.
I dated a French girl once
who sounded so sexy until I spoke french too
and learned she just wanted me
to get more milk
next time I was out.
I prefer love in a language
that allows me to pretend
love is perfect.
So if ignorance is bliss
I’m hanging the Do Not Disturb sign
on the doorknob of our relationship.
Don’t even try to get a grasp;
this is the suite life
and we won’t be needing turn-down service
but on second thought you can leave a few of
those chocolates because
I never turn down free chocolate.
Chocolate turns up the passion.

I think I was a silkworm in a past life
because her skin feels like home.
It’s so smooth Dr. Pepper
studies her DNA.
Maybe one day when our love has turned bitter
and we understand each other all too well
I’ll ask if there’s some secret
and she’ll say mayonnaise.
But for now I’m content
assuming her Double Helix is so beautiful
God modeled a Nebula after it.
And alien twenty-somethings
driving by the center of the Milky Way
slow their spaceships and honk their horns,
yelling out, “Hubble, Hubble!”
Not paying attention,
they run right into that Black Hole,
but the gravitational collapse is much easier
than telling their Dad they totaled
his new hybrid.
Telling your Dad you totaled his hybrid is harder
than just about everything
except saying I love you in a vacuum.
But that’s the best place to say it
because you feel the full weight of it
on your chest as you gasp for air.

I remember when I was a kid at the beach.
I knocked a minnow out onto the shore, and,
watching it flop and suck for breath,
shouting for help in its bubble language,
I thought, could someone ever have this
power over me?
Water is love for fish.
How lucky -
to be born in love
to live in love
to die in love.
How appropriate -
that the moon
should be the one
to bring me the wave
that takes me back home.

Party On Wayne, Party On Garth

2010-05-25T20:06:00.000-07:00

I’m no longer hanging out with intellectuals. I miss the stories you can only hear while sitting around a bon fire with a couple of drunk idiots.

Simply put, dumb people tell better stories. It’s not that they are better storytellers. They just have the advantage because much crazier shit happens to them. And more often than not, intellectuals don’t care to tell stories; they prefer to commentate on ones that have already been laid out.

If you plan on hanging out with either intellectuals or idiots, you should keep in mind the typical course of events in their respective gatherings.

Someone at a party full of dumb people will say, “Hey, Trigger! Tell that story about the mud pie,” and Trigger will say, “Man, this one time, me and Rex was ridin’ round in the truck doing the usual, splittin’ a twelver and smokin’ a doobie. So we stop for a fifth of Mr. Daniels.” At the mention of Jack Daniels everyone in the room will raise their glass and chug the remainders then grab a new drink. Trigger will finish his own drink and continue, “Long story short, I didn’t know when I asked the cashier for a blowjob and said I’d owe her one, the police would take it to mean solicitin’ a prostitute. So they’re chasing me down main street and Rex takes a shit in the paper bag that our Jack was in,” everyone finishes their second drink, “and he lights it on fire and throws it on the cop’s windshield. That was the first time we got arrested.”

Everyone will cheer and have sex and then drink some more and that’s pretty much what happens at a party with dumb people.

An intellectual party is nothing like that. At a party with smart people it is considered uncivilized to speak to more than five people at once so everyone splits off into small groups and spreads around the room to sample the cheese. Inevitably you will find yourself in one of these groups and the boldest of intellectuals will say, “I stumbled across the most vehemently atrocious program entitled COPS.” At the mention of such a commoner show, the other intellectuals will stop listening for fear the story continues with the intellectual enjoying the show, but he redeems himself by saying, “To make a long story short I find it distressing that in this country illiteracy often segues into playing with fecal matter.”

Everyone will lift their glass and discuss the sexual promiscuity of elementary school children all the while passing around an joint. This is an ornamental joint and should not be smoked. At most put it to your lips but don’t inhale. Occasionally someone at the party will offer you cocaine. When they do, grab a little between your fingers (called a bump) and sprinkle it on your head. That’s pretty much what happens at a party with smart people.

Youth Speak

2010-05-21T08:15:00.000-07:00

Sex talk for the 21st Century:

Youth 1: So, what happened last night with Stacy?
Youth 2: The usual. A little Hulu action. Craig’s list.
Youth 1: You got on the list at Craig’s? Did she let you see her Twitter?
Youth 2: Def. We were T-9ing under the dinner table.
Youth 1: O-M-G. Did you bring her back to your place?
Youth 2: Oh yeah. I totally googled it.
Youth 1: That’s S-F-C. Did she yahoo?
Youth 2: Check out the bed, you can still see the huge blogspot we left behind.

The Nightcap

2010-05-18T08:26:00.000-07:00

To be honest, Albert would have liked to be one of those fellows who’s well-to-do with women. Sometimes he imagines himself in a group of friends (who are all also well-to-do with women) saying, “Colleen, ah, yes, she was rather easy, but a bit plump if I recall.” The men laugh and sip their pints and look around for fresh prey. They fancy themselves hunters of sorts.

Albert imagines himself having dinner with the pretty redhead from his office then taking her home with the suggestion of a night cap. They have unhurried marathon sex, and afterward Albert tells her she can’t stay over. “Sorry, it’s a rule I have,” he says as if he actually is sorry, adding, “I really like you; I don’t want things to escalate too quickly.” The woman takes this to mean he does, in fact, like her, and is confused when he never calls.

Albert imagines this confusion will lead to some awkwardness in the office and eventually some regret on his part, and even though this is far from reality, he tells himself he really should be more careful about the women he chooses.

He stops browsing the personals on Craigslist, electing to have another soda and watch some TV instead. What kind of woman would put herself out there on the internet anyway, he wonders?

Good Times

2010-05-10T11:19:00.000-07:00

This was a fun show...

UCB 401 Gradshow from Dick Beck on Vimeo.

Spare Change Me

2010-05-01T14:45:00.000-07:00

I thought I'd share a short mockumentary script I wrote a couple of years ago. (Read: I don't feel like writing anything new today.)

Juice Boxing

2010-04-19T20:10:00.000-07:00

Kids today are starting to realize that simply eating their vegetables won’t suffice. Parents are all too aware of the consequences if their child goes out on the athletic field with nothing but spinach and a bit of protein powder to carry them through their Little League final. The only way to survive in today’s sports world is by juicing. Years ago, beginning to juice at age 6 would get you a leg up on the competition; today, juicing has become a necessity to simply stay in the game at all.

Says a local father: “I told Johnny carrots wouldn’t do shit for his three-point average. If he wanted to win, he needed an edge. Now look at him. He’s washed up and jaded at only 9 years old. He’s past his prime, and when I go to cook outs, the other dads won’t let me drink Budweiser and grill steaks with them. No, I have to eat tofu and sip Michelob Ultra with the wives now. All because Johnny was too much of a wimp to stick a needle in his side and beef up like everybody else.”

Don’t feel bad for Johnny’s father though. He couldn’t take matters into his own hands. Like Johnny, most children have a natural aversion to needles and giant pills; it’s a true sports parent who realizes the future of their child cannot be left to their child’s discretion.

A pioneer of the juicing movement, Ginger McGwire knew her son’s career couldn’t be left to chance. “Little Mark didn’t understand why I wanted him to take those pills when he started T-ball after kindergarten. I caught him spitting them out pretty early on, so I took to grinding them up and mixing them in his Gatorade until he was old enough to fully understand his true potential.”

Pam, a local soccer mom, is speaking out against the movement. Her 7 year old son was recently asked to retire from the team because, without the help of juice, he just wasn’t able to kick that ball the required 1,000 yards.

A fellow teammate’s mother had this to say: “The moral structure Pam’s trying to lay on the sporting world is just disgusting. That she would risk the team’s winning record so her son could maintain his health into his ‘golden years’ is despicable. These are their golden years. In twenty years they’ll be able to look at their wall full of trophies and say, ‘Yeah. Winning is everything. Thanks, mom.’”

After taking a quick break to stop her 8 year old’s nosebleed and fix him another HGH shake, the mother continued. “I mean, sports are raw. They’re meant to be played with brute force. No one wants to see Dustin Diamond get his ass handed to him on the field. They want Barry Bonds out there, jacked up in all his glory. Then they want to laugh at his voice when he gives a post-game interview. What kind of parents would we be if we didn’t tell our kids how they're going to wish they’d lived their lives when they get to be our age? And Pam calls herself a soccer mom.”

As much as the parents are doing for their kids today, the local drug dealers are really the unsung heroes behind this movement, and they want some credit.

“I’m personally responsible for numerous sports records, and what thanks do I get?” asks a steroid dealer who goes by Uncle Sam. “None! They’ll thank God, but they won’t thank me. As if God could actually increase the size of their biceps by twenty-two inches and shave three seconds off their 40’s.”

What are the dealers saying about an asterisk beside future sports records? “You bet your ass we want that asterisk there. With a footnote that has the name of that person’s dealer below. Come on people, give credit where credit is due.”

April Fool's

2010-04-01T15:42:00.000-07:00

Now that changing your relationship status on Facebook to suggest you are in a relationship has officially become the most boring April Fool's Prank ever, I thought I'd suggest a few pranks for future consideration.

1. Fake Your Own Death (see how long you can go before someone figures you out!)

2. Begin A Real Relationship and Break Up On April 2 (Yeah, right. You're ugly!)

3. Confess To A Really Horrible Crime (if your lawyer can't get you out of this one, the joke's on you!)

4. Steal Someone's Identity OR Pretend To Be A Nigerian Prince (classic!)

5. Give Someone A Disease (bonus points for noncommunicable diseases!)

I was a tear drop on your cheek

2010-03-26T17:52:00.000-07:00

I was a tear drop on your cheek
one winter morning when you rolled over
and said I love you to someone who didn’t
hear you or see you or know you
and you wondered was I deaf or blind or stupid
to hear silence
to see emptiness
to know nothing.
What he said was All Right
but it wasn’t, not in the least.

And then I knew life for the briefest of moments.
I wanted to comfort you because up close,
you are perfect.
The antithesis of a Van Gogh or a Monet.

Men lack imagination.
They can only remember
the things they have seen
up close, and a bed
may as well be the ocean.

They say energy is neither created nor destroyed
but your laugh lines prove them wrong,
and I slid down one, coming to rest
at the bottom of a scar on your chin
from when you were truly alone for the first time,
nothing around but the empty swingset and the gravel beneath you.
I wanted to tell you how warm you were.
I almost evaporated then and there.

But men are reptiles
and they quickly forget
the warmth of a rock
once the earth trades in its suns for moons.

Inspirational Poetry from a Calvinist

2010-03-19T13:27:00.000-07:00

I traveled back in time,
but made the same choices again.
If I had made different choices before
I wouldn't be who I am.

I still ordered the chocolate,
There are chocolate stains on my shirt,
I still didn’t say I love you,
Though I knew how much it’d hurt.

I still couldn’t bungee-jump
My future depends upon that fear.
I still let her have my son,
Knowing he wouldn’t last the year.

I still didn’t call you back
After your message on my phone,
And I still kick myself sometimes
Because I ended up alone.

I wish I could be different,
I’m just not sure who’d be left.
We are who we are,
so should leave little to regret.

Yard Sale

2010-03-15T00:02:00.000-07:00

I have always been intrigued by places that offer a bunch of completely useless items for purchase. Are you looking for a dilapidated barbie doll mansion? How about half a shoe string? Broken condom? Step right up, you don’t need any of this, but it’s sure fun to wonder who might.

My one venture into the yard sale business last less than an hour. I had everything set up- the skim board I had used only once, the snowman cookie jar with the broken carrot nose, my pog collection, some Pokemon cards, an assortment of pet rocks, all of the common items one would hope to discover at any good yard show - when my first potential sale arrived.

“I’m looking for some beach towels.”
“This is everything I’m selling.”
“Yeah, but I need some beach towels. Do you have any?”

In my fucking warehouse? I was twelve and this guy seemed to think he had stumbled upon a K-mart. So I took down the strategically placed signs throughout my neighborhood and called it a day.

There was no point to that story, which leads me to my next point. This blog is exactly what it claims to be: a random assortment of shit, some of it real, some of it fake (Yes, that is actually the crack pipe I got in trouble making for my Plumbing merit badge back in my Scout days. No, that’s not really melted snow cream, just urine colored melted snow that I considered making into snow cream.) Most of the stuff in here is probably rusty spoons, but maybe you’ll find something you can appreciate.

The Time Traveler's Instruction Manual

2010-03-03T18:34:00.000-08:00

The Time Traveler’s Instruction Manual

First of all, thanks for purchasing the New Standard Deluxe Time Traveler Two-Thousand! I really think you’re going to enjoy it. The NSDTT2000 is the first of its kind, and by that, I mean the first ever. Before you get started jumping wormholes and such, take a moment to read the following message:

If you are reading this message in the year 2023, you are in a very exciting year. This is the year time travel was invented by yours truly!

Sadly, the machine’s settings won’t allow you to travel to before February 26 of this year; that’s the day time travel was discovered by yours truly. This is due to the fact of my hatred for Stephen Hawking, who stole all my ideas about time and space quite a few years back. At the time he assumed time travel didn’t exist because no one was traveling to the past, and I wouldn’t want to prove him wrong because he’d just update his book and be famous for even longer. As you know, now that you’re in the 2023, I started a rumor that he was a silly goat man which everyone believes, and that’s just the way I intend to keep it.

But don’t worry because the past wasn’t that great anyway. I was there, which is why I invented the NSDTT2000 so I would never have to be in the past again. What was so bad about it, you ask? Well, for one, in the third grade Molly Maxwell called me fat and stupid with big glasses when I asked her out on Valentine’s Day. I’m sure you can probably relate.

And if you need any more reason than that, the US elected Sarah Palin president in 2012 and she ended up being the anti-Christ. Talk about your bad luck! Now that we’ve handled that situation, it’s time to move on. It really is true what they say, it’s best to leave the past behind you.

You will also notice that you can only travel up to the end of year 2024. This is due to the fact that in 2025 a better time machine is invented that doesn’t leave the horrible rash from travel like mine does, and I wouldn’t want to get put out of business before I even have a chance to get rich!

This is a good point to discuss that rash. First of all, yes, it is an unavoidable but minor (in my opinion) side-effect of time travel with the NSDTT2000. It will cover the pubic region for the entire duration of the out-of-time experience and for a few days after returning to the present. A small price to pay, if I do say so myself! Of course some of you reading this will choose to wait until the nicer model comes out in 2025, but I encourage the bold to try my machine in the meantime, you won’t be disappointed.

Now, on to the fun part. When in the years 2023 to 2024 do I recommend traveling? Glad you asked. Firstly, you might try February 26, 2023. That’s the day time travel is invented by yours truly, and I greatly appreciate the congratulations you might offer me as soon as I’m done, which is approximately 3:37 PM.

Another great time to visit is December 11, 2024. This is the one time my machine gets me laid, and I greatly appreciate any congratulations you might offer me as soon as I’m done, which is approximately 11:58 PM. And since I like to spice things up a bit, feel free to watch; we’ll be starting at approximately 11:54 PM. Maybe you’ll have better luck encouraging my partner to enjoy it.

Before I forget, if you are reading this in any year after 2025 and for whatever reason aren’t using an updated time machine, come back and join me. I will be reliving the years 2023 to the end of 2024 for the foreseeable present, and what a present it is! Haha, but seriously, it’s definitely the best years of my life. (If you do decide to come back, could you bring me some ultra-strength Benadryl? For some reason the stuff they have at this time doesn’t stop the itching from the rash. Super!)

Again, thanks for purchasing the New Standard Deluxe Time Traveler Two-Thousand, and enjoy your travels!

A Brief Note on Narflocks

2010-02-20T16:32:00.000-08:00

An excerpt from the Narflock encyclopedia:

Mating Rituals

The Narflock's mating rituals are commonly misconstrued by other species in the universe as a forced entry gang bang. This is for two reasons:

1.) The female Narflock must be angry during conception or the resulting offspring will be weak and prone to empathy.

2.) The male Narflock can only produce one sperm at a time, thereby making multiple partners much more likely to yield. In fact, since some partners are inexplicably incompatible, having multiple partners logically eradicates the possibility that the mating phase of the Narflocks life could be fruitless.

Once the female is impregnated, the males are not allowed to participate in any other mating rituals until the child is born. When the child is born, if it is a female it will go with the mother regardless of the father; the mother will not mate again until the child turns 90 Narflock moons and is thereby old enough to begin the mating rituals herself. If the child is male, the father will be able to tell ownership from the odor of the boy’s flatulence. All father’s without a son to raise return to mating until that proud day when they too smell their family scent from their son’s rear atrium.

Life Without Parole

2010-02-20T11:29:00.000-08:00

Don't think this is finished yet but...

Life Without Parole

What I feel for you is a crime.
If my thoughts weren’t just thoughts
I’d get at least three to five.
My actions are juvenile,
But my teens long lost
I am an adult in a courtroom
Despite my objections.

Your mouth full of Hershey’s chocolate,
I shoplifted a kiss.
It only seemed right
As we strolled down St. Mark’s Place in the moonlight
Only drunks have known.

We forgot to remember condoms at the Duane Reade
But didn’t care later.
The cramped studio,
With the whispers of dawn
Drifting up from the streets,
Seemed protection enough.

It’s funny how forgetting to remember
Becomes remembering to forget
In just nine short months.

The Play

2010-01-25T20:25:00.000-08:00

There’s this play that keeps running through my head. At times it is tragic but it doesn’t appear to be tragedy. I can’t remember the name, though I’m sure it’s something simple, and I don’t recall it having any purpose other than to entertain.

It was sad and poignant and beautiful and real.

Everyone took it serious though it was never meant to be.

A Brief Thought on Pornography Writing

2010-01-03T20:30:00.000-08:00

Do porn writers offer readings to promote their newly published books? What kind of people would openly attend these readings? How does the author choose the passage he reads? Well written or shock value?

A fan meets her idol:

-I absolutely loved As I Lay Muff Diving. Darl’s character changed the way I pleasure myself.

Two attendees discuss the reading:

-I have to say, I could have used more of the moaning when he was reading the oral sex scene.
-I thought they were going to serve food at this thing.

A review of the book:

-Sadly, As I Lay Muff Diving falls short; it comes across as not much more than a vast overgeneralization of the evolution of the swinger’s movement in colonial America.

An excerpt:

-From the shouts of Paul Revere that night it was easy to surmise that the redcoats were coming.

The Chain Gang

2009-12-27T20:14:00.000-08:00

Of all the things that I find stupid and pointless in this world, the one that annoys me the most is the chain e-mail. The idea that something good can come from passing on a message that someone wrote after they had eaten seven Oxycoton while blasting self-produced Gospel is ridiculous.

Not only is it ridiculous, it’s a waste of a lot of people’s time. The work force is inefficient enough as it is. Most of us pass the day playing Snood and looking for nipple-slips in Facebook photo albums instead of finishing those reports that were due last week, because if we did finish those reports, there would be more from the never-ending pile so why not take our sweet ass time?

I digress. The point is: we don’t need anymore excuses to waste time. So why make chain e-mails? I’m not talking about the ones with jokes or funny videos in them that you might pass on at your own discretion. I need those for the last thirty minute stretch of work. I’m talking about the ones that request that you pass them on to at least ten people (the more the better!). My most recent example would be this one:

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
Just want you to know,
That I love you!!!!!!!
Pass this on to one person and something special will happen to you at midnight tonight!!!!
Pass this on to 10 people and you will meet someone special tomorrow before the end of the day!!!!!!
Pass this on to twenty people and you will meet the love of your life by the end of the week!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What about the people who don’t want to meet the love of their lives by the end of the week? What about the ones who were hoping to have casual sex with that really hot co-worker who keeps flirting with them, but who isn’t available until the end of the week? Can we meet the love of our life and keep them as a back-up? Just in case that casual sex falls through and we don’t feel like drowning our sorrows in cheap beer and then crying to Damien Rice or Boyz II Men while coming down from cocaine at eight in the morning.

Maybe I’m just jaded from bad experiences with chain e-mails. So if anyone knows the creator of the chain e-mail, can you please forward this to him? Thanks!!!!

Dear Mr. Creator of the Good Luck Chain E-mail,

Part of your e-mail said if I forwarded your dumb poem to two hundred and fifty people, I would get laid by 12:02 that night. And then it said if I sent it to five hundred, the most amazing thing in the world would happen to me. Personally, I didn’t see what could be better than the first one, but I did it anyway, just in case.

First of all, I don’t know five hundred people, so after I depleted my Facebook contacts, I just had to make up e-mail addresses. Maybe that means what happened is partly my fault, but I definitely sent the poem to at least ten real people and you said something special would happen by the end of the workday, which is technically cheating because the fact that the workday ends is special in itself.

Imagine my initial surprise when something shiny caught my eye on my way home from work. And I didn’t really think something would happened, so it was especially awesome to think my luck might have been changing. Well, I went over to pick it up, and, can you believe it(?), it was a quarter!

That’s when things went bad. My shiny new twenty-five cents of good luck left a bad smell on my hand and to make matters worse I got gum stuck to my shoe. Later that night, I got a drink thrown in my face as I drowned my sorrows in one-dollar PBR and sang “I can’t take my eyes off of you” sweetly under my breath. Let me emphasize, sweetly under my breath. Let me also note, I was staring into space, not at that girl’s cleavage. She probably forwarded your e-mail too and was disappointed when she expected to get married to the man of her dreams at 12:02 but only got groped in the over-crowded bar that smelled like stale beer and bodily fluids.

I just wanted you to know, I am not passing on anymore of your “Good Luck Chain Letters” so keep them to yourself.

Sincerely,
Tillery

Intolerance

2009-12-21T20:17:00.000-08:00

On the one hand, it could be worse. A lot worse. On the other hand, what can be lamer than being lactose intolerant? If it were something else, I might have a badass story to go with it. I could tell people I lost three fingers and eight toes trying to finish the Iditarod with only five dogs. I could say one day I suddenly got another personality and went on a killing spree. OK, that one isn’t exactly cool, but at least it’s interesting.

Nope. I have trouble consuming dairy products. I have done the seemingly impossible: turned milk into an anomaly. Spicy milk, you could call it.

What could be blander than dairy? It is one of the most plain and ordinary things in the world.

And to make matters worse, cheese is one of my favorite things. When I go into a grocery store, the cheese display is a beacon spraying golden light throughout the aisles. All of the best looking women congregate around the cheese stand. There’s no chance to speak with these girls when you’re lactose intolerant. You can imagine any number of scenarios that would not go in your favor.

“There’s nothing sexier than having some wine and cheese in front of a nice fire,” she says, a seductive gleam in her eyes.
“Yeah,” you say. “It’s pretty hot.”
“Why don’t we get together and enjoy a nice brie later this week?” she asks.
“Yeah, sure,” you tell her. “Oh, by the way. After that cheese, before any lovemaking can occur, I’m probably gonna need about half an hour to an hour in the bathroom..."

She stares at you for a moment before becoming uncomfortable and looking away.

"So," you say, "Thursday?"

Musical Stupidity

2009-12-17T20:13:00.000-08:00

I must admit, there are times when I indulge myself with some pretty terrible music. That time I drove around stoned singing Wham at the top of my lungs comes to mind, but then again that was right after Zoolander came out so it’s negligible. But the world’s music taste is going downhill faster than teen celebrities are picking up drug habits.

Recently I was at a party where a drunk girl traded The White Stripes for Boy George, and that’s just not cool. What that iPod was doing with both of those artists on it is also inexplicable, but that’s beside the point. The point is: do we really want to be part of a society that plays Boy George when it gets a little buzzed?

Where does this musical stubbornness come from?

In a country where we're crying for change, I find it ironic that most of us are actually scared of new things. That's why we eat at the same restaurants week after week, order the same dishes each time we go, become uncomfortable when the manager doesn't have oldies playing softly over the loudspeakers.

People may claim to have changing tastes. You might argue that the Jonas Brothers are popular and they haven't been around that long. I'd have to say you're wrong about that. The Jonas Brothers are Hannah Montana are Hanson are the Backstreet Boys (guess which one of those bands features a penis*). They're all the same crappy jingles with the exact same prepackaged lyrics and stupid hooks.

This is a relatively modern movement. The classics of the sixties were also the better constructed and more complex songs, and perhaps that is a product of fewer possibilities.

With our ever expanding list of choices, we've created a culture of mass consumers who go with the simplistic popular picks because diversity frightens them. I can't claim to be worthy enough to write that off as a bad thing, I'm just sad that in fifty years, the classic songs of today and the good songs of today will be unrelated.

I'm thankful this trend did not start sooner or we'd really be in trouble.

Geoffrey: I've stumbled across the greatest music. You must hear it at once.
Theobald: Beethoven? Hmmm. We wouldn't want to go too wild, now would we?
Geoffrey: Of course not. I don't know what got into me.
Theobald: Let's just listen to some Gregorian chants, shall we?

*Hannah Montana's female guitarist was born with boy and girl parts.

Jonah and the Whale

2009-12-13T20:11:00.000-08:00

Jonah: Dude! You will never guess where I’ve been for the last three days.
David: On a coke binge at the brothel?
Jonah: What?! No. Where’d you get that?
David: Just a wild guess.
Jonah: No. I… was inside a whale’s stomach!
David: That’s crazy. I’d never have guessed that. Just like last time I didn’t guess that you had been inside a brontosaurus for three days.
Jonah: What can I say? Some people just have wild lives.
David: It appears that way.
Jonah: So anyway. This whale was massive. I felt around in the dark for fish to eat. Just trying to survive.
David: Oh, this reminds me of something. Man gets swallowed by giant whale, gets out by… Did you happen to tickle the whale until he sneezed you out?
Jonah: What? No.
David: Are you Pinocchio?
Jonah: Ha… ha
David: I’m just kidding. What happened next?
Jonah: Well, I’m not telling it now.
David: Come on. For a second there I thought I was in a children’s fairy tale.
Jonah: Whatever, man. If you’re just going to make fun of me, I can leave.
David: I’m joking. But seriously, this is even better than that time you were abducted by aliens and you couldn’t sit down because…
Jonah: Just drop it.
David: …because they probed you so much, and… and…
Jonah: Fine. I was doing lines off the new Russian girl they got at the brothel. Just don't say anything to my wife this time.

The Fine Print

2009-12-05T20:08:00.000-08:00

The problem with the world is that the number of Zagat rated places is growing so rapidly, nothing isn’t Zagat rated anymore. Indifference plagues the streets as couples become so discombobulated as to what might actually taste good that they stand in the middle of the sidewalk trying to decide.

“Pam, hon? Sugar plum? How about Thai tonight? That sticker says Zagat rated it number one Thai in the city in 1987.”
“That sounds wonderful, Theodore. There was some really good Thai around in 1987, so it must be some of the best in the world.”
“Let’s not kid ourselves, honey bunch. If it’s Zagat rated, it is the best in the world.”

Of course, Theodore and Pam won’t realize until they’ve paid the five hundred dollar entry fee that the restaurant isn’t serving Thai food, but Thai child prostitutes.

“Excuse me, sir? Could I have the Pad Thai?”
“You want the Thai they call Pattie? Good choice. She just turned eleven.”
“Didn’t you have the number one Thai food in 1987?”
“No, sir. Read at the bottom of the Zagat survey sticker. Oh, sorry. Here. Use my magnifying glass. See? It says Number One Thai Prositutes. Plain as day.” He chuckles a little and checks out Pam’s cleavage. No thanks, puberty.

Yes, folks. It’s a little known fact that Zagat actually ran out of restaurants to rate in the early 2000’s so they moved on to other types of stores. When they ran out of clubs and bars in 2004, they turned to music venues and theatrical productions. But alas, these too were of finite numbers, so they decided to rate prostitution cirlces and drug dealers.

“Booger Shooger is quite a pleasant fellow, but you’re going to pay up to twenty dollars more than the Nosy Clam Man,” one review states. “But if you really want the most bang for your buck, Zagat always goes with Gator Tales. There’s a story behind every bag; plus, his meth and heroine are out of this world. Zagat lost three reviewers to overdoses before we found Gator.”

We can’t completely blame Zagat for the state of things these days, however. The problem inherent to Ratings Lists is that you can rate things relative to just about anything. You might be eating at a restaurant that appeared to claim to have the Number One Burgers in town, when, in fact, if you had read the fine print, you would know they actually served the Number One Greasiest Burgers in town. And the jokes on you because, not only will you not get a refund, for the next few days you’re going to be reminiscing about that time you spent in Mexico and you didn’t listen to Sheryl because you hate drinking hot soda and just had to add some ice cubes.

These Top Rated Lists have been an issue for thousands of years.

“Pontius?” the Hater from Rome asked.
“What is it?” Pontius Pilate barked, angry to be awoken from his nap.
“Sir, the Survey of Biblical Proportions just came out, and it ranked blasphemy above murder this year."
“Did it mention the number one way to kill offenders?”
“Let’s see… Yep, right here. Crucifixion.”

When Spitting Game Goes Wrong

2009-11-30T20:07:00.000-08:00

It happens all the time. You’re at a party, having a great time. You spot a good looking girl across the room. You’d like to meet her. But what to say? You could always go with some cheesy pick-up line. After all, it’s the delivery that counts, right?

You: Was your father a jewel thief? Because it looks like he took two diamonds and put them in your eyes.
[The girl runs off crying.]
Her Friend: Her dad just got twenty years for robbing a jewelry store. Thanks a lot, asshole.

Note to self: Avoid comments about criminals.

You: Was your father a jeweler? Because…
[Girl runs off crying.]
Her friend: Her dad was a jeweler. And he just got killed over blood diamonds in Sierra Leon. Thanks a lot, asshole.

Note to self: Jewelry is a bad topic.

You: Was your father an astronomer? Because it looks like he took two stars from the sky and put them in your eyes.
[Girl runs off crying.]
Her Friend: Did you hear about the space shuttle that just crashed? Her dad was an astronaut on that. Thanks a lot, asshole.

Note to self: Avoid pick-up lines involving dangerous professions.

You: Was your father a butcher? Because it looks like he took two perfect hams and stuck them down your pants.
[Girl runs off crying.]
Her Friend: Hear about the Bay Harbor Butcher? That was her dad. She’s still coping with the fact that she’s the daughter of a serial killer. Thanks a lot, asshole.
You: I was just…
Her friend: Maybe if you were a little more original, you wouldn’t have that problem.

Note to self: Be more original.

You: Can I buy you a drink sometime?
Her: I’m a recovering alcoholic. But thanks a lot, asshole.

Why I Don't Buy Lottery Tickets

2009-11-21T13:03:00.000-08:00

You know how it works. You walk into 7/11 for a drink. The guy in front of you asks for a lottery ticket, and suddenly that glowing green and gold beckons you. Already in your head you can smell the potential that only a fresh lottery ticket can have; you can feel the shards of whatever that material is sticking to your fingers. You never use a penny because it feels much more rewarding when that stuff is lodged under your fingernails and you see you’ve won an entire... five dollars.

I had won a few of the stingy tickets. Those quick cash whores, spreading their edges for your fingers. Their relative harmlessness keeps you coming back. What’s a dollar here and there?

The last lottery ticket I ever bought was at a Kangaroo. The worst date of my life was almost over. At dinner we had learned we had no chemistry. Not just that, our chemistry was bad. The kind of bad chemistry that could make a quick drink drag out like the bombing of Guernica.

I had resolved myself to escape. Forget the eighty dollars I spent at dinner; this was do or die. Just keep the radio loud enough to drown out any animosity that floated around the car for our final fifteen minutes together.

“I need cigarettes,” she said, pointing at the gas station ahead. I wasn’t about to argue. At dinner the topic of puppies had segued into a fifteen minute diatribe on abortion. I was determined to keep her satisfied until I had left her in her driveway, at which point I planned on screaming obscenities while doing donuts in the yard.

“I’ll get them,” I said. “I’m getting a drink anyway.”

She handed me ten dollars, saying I could buy my drink with the change. Thanks. That’ll cover the thirteen dollar martinis you slurped down at dinner.

I walked in, grabbed a drink and got in line. My wallet salivated as I watched the woman in front of me buy a ticket. “I won a thousand dollars a couple of weeks ago,” she said, scratching furiously as she walked off.

Like a drunk drawn in by that 40, I stepped up to the counter. “A pack of Parliaments,” I told the cashier. “And I suppose I’ll get one of those tickets too.”

I paid the man and scratched at mine. As I unveiled the final number I was amazed to find I had won fifty dollars. The cashier at the counter took the ticket and was starting to count out the money when my date walked in to see what was taking so long.

Once she realized what had happened, this girl made sure to lay out exactly why that was her money. She had after all, paid for it. I didn’t even argue. Were the situation reversed, I was positive I hated her enough to do the same. Sure, go ahead and tack that on as one more reason why suicide would have been a better option than taking you to dinner.

When I dropped her off, I didn’t do donuts in her yard or call her any names, but only because I didn’t want to stay around her any longer than necessary.

I believe that everyone is limited to one (relatively) big lottery ticket win, yet the probability that I will never win again is not the reason I avoid lotteries. I stay away because, to this day, the sight of those big rolls of tickets makes me want to vomit. I see that glowing green and gold and feel like I’m about to pick up Stalin for our very first date.

The Love of My Life

2009-11-19T22:09:00.000-08:00

My stomach – I thought it had given out so I started driving and stopped at the first deli I saw. I’d forgotten how good the Italian Sub was: all that Genoa salami, capicola, smoked ham and provolone cheese, piled high and soaked in dressing. When the scale says I’m three pounds heavier than I was last week, I won’t mind lying to my Weight Watchers group.

“Must be water weight. I’ll just have to cut back on my sodium intake.”

The problem is, health is such a vague notion to me. Like “the truth” or “illegal” or “catfood,” I can’t take it seriously. When asked why he wrote, Shakespeare once said, “The comfort of thine confines is too glorious a paradise to waste.” Why go out searching for entertainment when you have a refined list of adventures on your plasma TV? If I want to be all out of breath, I can go watch the TV upstairs. That’s eighteen steps of pure adrenaline, mind you. It’s not that I don’t want to exercise; my concern for my health simply doesn’t outweigh my laziness.

Deli meats are the loves of my life, and I won’t be kept from them. I love the way my shirt smells after I leave a $5.99 All-You-Can-Eat Chinese buffet. I love when the crumbs gather on my gut, providing something to nibble on while I finish whatever gameshow I happen to be watching at the time. Invariably The Price Is Right (only the ones with Bob Barker) or Jeopardy. I’m a zookeeper’s dream because, guess what, I don’t feed the animals. Those fries are too good to waste on some stupid llama.

I'm from America, where being free means eating whatever I want now and dealing with the consequences later. The McDonald's Arches are my Mecca. My drive to Wafflehouse at 3:30 AM is a pilgrimage. The Golden Corral’s sweet buttery rolls dipped in just the right amount of creamy ranch dressing are my Holy Grail (I get a salad solely to appear to have a reason for the ranch). Scientists are sure to come up with a diet that doesn’t require eating less or exercising more before it’s too late.

So, fuck you, cholesterol.
Go to hell, fitted pants.
Spandex suits me just fine.

2009-11-19T20:19:00.000-08:00

Overheard in a coffee shop:

A: You probably wouldn't act that awkward on a real date.
B: Oh, you'd be surprised.

So You Want To Be a Hipster

2009-11-19T20:00:00.000-08:00

More exclusive than the famed Secret Societies of the Ivy League schools are the groups of raging Indie rockers. Rooted in Brooklyn, these hipsters are invariably cooler than everyone else. Although breaking into their crowd can be near impossible, there are a few things one can do to better their chances of joining this elusive and exclusive club.

1. Don’t get discouraged.
These are people who have dedicated their lives to the movement. It is a modern group of rebels, and you aren’t going to be accepted at first. When speaking to a hipster, he or she will almost always ignore your first couple hundred questions. Make sure your questions are cool; limit them to questions about traveling in vans, bands with little to no fan base, and anything ironic.

2. Drink PBR.
Pabst Blue Ribbon is the drink of choice for hipsters. Why? Because it’s ironic that they would drink it. Not only does it taste like the lowest quality beer possible, it is a popular choice for Southern Americans (close behind Bud and Miller) who happen to be the exact opposite of hipsters. Southern Americans are the anti-hipster, supporters of the war and Dubya, yet both groups’ plasma consists of 67.89% PBR, the closest link of any two American demographics. Ironic coincidence? You bet.

3. Know as much as possible about existentialism.
Let’s be honest with ourselves. A lot of the existential philosophy is inexplicable. In fact, it is believed that the inventors of existentialism came up with their philosophy on Nitrous, and everyone who’s had a week of Whip-It binging knows the reason it’s awesome is because you feel connected to everything. As soon as you come down you feel connected to nothing, which led the same guys who invented existentialism to promptly invent Nihilism. (All of this and none of this can be confirmed and, either way, it means everything or it means nothing, which is the great thing about both philosophies.) If you begin to run out of moderately logical things to say, a reference to Kundera or “I Heart Huckabees” will always suffice. Both of these are a great source of inspiration for hipsters.

4. Deny, Deny, Deny.
You are never a hipster or Indie rocker, even if you are one. The terms are intolerable in the hipster community, and it is not Indie to conform to Indie standards. Avoid the terms at all cost, and if you get to the point where you’re accepted into this group, beat the shit out of anyone who suggests you’re a hipster or Indie rocker. Then sip another PBR. Now that’s cool.

5. When your favorite band gets popular, they are no longer your favorite.
If your favorite band’s fan base grows too large, they are no longer cool. In fact they are so un-cool, it is now OK to call them sell-outs. Because let’s face it, most people outside the hipster community are fucking idiots. So if idiots are listening to your favorite band, there’s no way they can be good. They should no longer be on your list of favorites. You might as well take your Nickelback and find somewhere else to hang you conformist. That shit doesn’t fly.

6. Congratulations.
So you’ve finally achieved hipster status. Fellow hipsters respond to your questions. They even quote that great comment you made last week on a coke binge at six in the morning about the idea of eternal return. (Look it up.) It is now acceptable for you to get a headband, ironic tee-shirt, and several tattoos without being called a poser. Move to Brooklyn and enjoy your new life.

Obituaries: Jimmy Riggle, 49, Country Singer

2009-10-10T08:24:00.000-07:00

I found this when I was cleaning out my old school folders. I think it was an assignment for a creative writing class.

HOUSTON, TX, Sept. 2 --- Jimmy Riggle, the long renowned country singer of such hits as “If You Ain’t Good Enough for Your Brothers, You Ain’t Good Enough to Be My Wife” and “That Ain’t a Fridgerator, It’s My Sweetheart,” died on Thursday in a bar fight in Dallas.

The singer, born James Harvard Riggle, III, was in Dallas for a rodeo, where he had promised to ride a bull while singing his famous “My Horse Needs a Shot of Tequila with that Salt Cube” as a publicity stunt. Later that evening, Jimmy went to a bar that catered mostly to locals and reportedly got into a disagreement with a man who was angry that Mr. Riggle’s bull riding attempt ended before the lyrics began. The man stabbed Mr. Riggle after he apparently made a crude remark about the man’s wife. Jimmy Riggle is the first person to suffer under the newly passed Texas law making murder a legal response to spousal insults.

The rodeo appearance was the last attempt at a career revival for Riggle, who’s fame, after twenty years of sold out concerts and 15 quadruple Fool’s Gold album’s (Country music has a different system for rating album sales), had been declining over the last five years.

As part of this career revival, Jimmy was a cast member on The Surreal Life, but due to lack of interest for the show among Jimmy’s fan base, the role did not help.

The funeral will be held in Nashville, TN, where much of his family currently resides. Jimmy's will requests that tickets be sold to his funeral where his cousins will perform several of his better known songs, including “For Fifteen Dollars I’ll Let You Saddle Her Up” and his 50 week Country Chart Topper “Keep It in the Family (My Sister’s My Cousin and My Girlfriend Too).” Tickets are on sale for twenty five dollars.

Just Your Average Nigerian Prince

2009-09-09T20:31:00.000-07:00

People are getting screwed by Nigerian Princes. I’m talking about the e-mails you’ve probably received claiming you’ve just inherited millions of dollars. Plenty of people seem to be falling for it as the scam industry ranks as one of the top sources of income for Nigeria.

How do people fall for these things? There’s just something kind of obvious about someone asking you for money so they can send you your rightful inheritance. Oh! Of course you can’t just take the transfer costs out of my current balance. That completely makes sense.

The whole Nigerian scam highlights a weak spot in the human defense system. We are so inherently lazy that we will go to any lengths to avoid future inconveniences, such as work. It’s not just through these scams that this happens, and those who fall for such scams aren’t any more stupid than the rest of us (well, maybe just a little.)

I would probably attribute my own desire for a quick route to riches to my grandfather. He consistently fell for the millionaire home sweepstakes, and his enthusiasm prompted me to get into it too. With each letter I received telling me I was one step closer to being a millionaire (with the continued subscription to a specified number of our sponsored magazines), my hunger for the easy buck intensified. Stacks of Reader’s Digest and other completely pointless magazines littered my bedroom as I filled out forms for every contest imaginable.

The price of gold is going up? Sign me up for your golden stamp collection please. Who cares if I can’t use these on letters; it’s solid gold, baby! Get me on that Beanie Baby bandwagon. Those stuffed animals with their crisp tags highlighting useless information about each character are going to be worth something one of these days. I collected pogs, Pokemon cards, glass animals made by wrinkled old people at the nursing home. Investments, I called them.

My obsession did not stop there. I attempted to finagle money out people at the beach by selling - what else? - the same sea shells on which I had planted my stand. I even bought a rock tumbler so I could add polished stones to my merchandise. And why? I wasn’t dumb, just greedy and lazy enough to attempt to make money without actually doing any work. I’m willing to bet the majority of people in this country can imagine a time when they signed up for a sweepstake or bought a fad item hoping it would be worth something someday.

This brings me back to the whole Nigerian thing. I am thankful that the internet had not been around long enough when I was growing up for identity theft to become prominent or I would surely be among the ranks of the idiots I can safely laugh at today.

Writing this blog makes me want to rummage through my old collections to see if they’re worth anything yet.

Drinking Alone

2009-08-19T20:24:00.000-07:00

My roommate’s been out for a few hours; I’m alone in the apartment. It’s one of those days where nothing is happening so when I have to go to the bank I decide to walk the mile or so. The heat seeps under my skin even though I’m on the shady side of the street trying to avoid it.

I stop in the doorway of a Chinese restaurant. The air flowing from inside is cool and sour, and one of the cooks stands nearby sucking down heavy drags from a menthol cigarette.

A woman inside sits alone, her food half-eaten and cold, pushed off to the side, her company long gone. A busboy clears off the dirty dishes from the other places. The bags under the woman’s eyes give her face the appearance of melting. She’s throwing back wine like she’s at a party. When a waiter brings her a fresh glass she swallows the remainders of the one she already has and hands him the empty.

I wonder how many drinks it will take before she notices she’s the only one left at the table. Maybe that’s why she was drinking in the first place.

On the Horizon

2009-07-10T20:22:00.000-07:00

Lying out in the sun on the porch, I smell the burnt trees the breeze is carrying over the hills. In the distance a big cloud of smoke rises up, an arrow pointing at the fire below. I know from the TV that the flames are rushing to greet the Getty. The Getty, alone and under-loved, looks down over the Los Angelenos sitting in traffic on the 405 and asks, “Do you appreciate me now?”

If it burns down, will the people who never cared much for it overcompensate by recollecting their favorite Getty memories?

Overcompensation seems to be the theme these days as people forget their grievances against Michael Jackson and instead turn their attention to his greatness. He’s been allotted nineteen of my seventy channels. The fire leaping at the Getty only gets one, but should that make it any less significant?

What it is is a pang in the stomach; a small realization that maybe we were focusing on the wrong things; that if we can’t move beyond the expanse of the ocean, we’ll never consider the secrets that lie in it’s depths.

There are heat waves on the floor of my porch, little squiggly lines that don’t seem real. I do the test I used to do in college when I thought the mushrooms were finally kicking in and close my eyes. If the lines are still there, I know I’m hallucinating. Today I am not, although on any given day it’s just as likely I am, even on the days I’m completely sober.

It’s funny how the heat distorts things, like a rose-colored looking glass without a specified goal such as optimism. It’s as if the heat is just as confused about its intent as we are but continues traveling with the wind nonetheless, hoping things will make sense somewhere along the way.

Freedom

2009-07-04T20:19:00.000-07:00

The weather’s great, but the weathermen predicted overcast so the beach isn’t too crowded. You can tell who’s been out longest because their skin is pink by lunch.

Some girls talk trash about their Valley equivalents while waiting in a several-hundred-person line for the bathroom.

There’s a volleyball match going on somewhere. A drunk player dives into the sand to save a shot he would have no chance at sober. The victory cries come from a mix of joy and dehydration.

Sandaled feet drag up and down the pathway as men as old as eighty resting on the nearby porches don’t bother to cover their stares. Too small bikinis encourage them.

An overheard conversation between two sixty year old men:

The view sure is nice today.
Yep. Fourth of July weekend, I don’t even need my viagra.

They laugh.