Winding, Crooked Trails

Debouching my Debauchery

It's been a "when animals attack week" hasn't it?  A sea lion attacking swimmers in California, nipping them (in the bud?).  I find that a little humorous.   Swim if you will, cool, just remember, it's NOT YOUR OCEAN.

A 5,000 pound,  17 foot killer whale attacked a trainer at Sea World in Orlando.  Drug him under water and pinned him on the bottom twice(fuck, how horrific is that?).  Broke his foot.  Second time was after he was attempting to soothe and calm the beast by rubbing on it, uh huh, it's a killer whale you goober.

Got whaled on did ya?  Sea World officials say the whale "may be allowed" to perform again.  I was a two and a half ton killer whale I'd be deciding who does the performing or not.   I think whales have the most enormous male appendages in all of animalkind, seems like I read that somewhere.  Article said the trainer dude's wet suit was ripped, hmm, slick black wet suit, kinda looked like a skinny whale maybe ya think?  Maybe the attack was an act of love.  Only two beings know what happened at the bottom of that pool.  Trainer guy starts blowing water out of his belly button I'd be suspicious.

My favorite, by far, is the doofus in north central Florida, picture this, middle of the night, smokin some crack with a couple buds, sayin', hey, hold my pipe, strippin' down and taking a nude stroll around a seemingly placid moonlit lake, humming a little crackhead toon, la di da, BAM, FUCKING BAM, twelve foot alligator drags your coked out naked sorry ass into HIS lake.   FUCK, huh?  This moron is half the man he used to be, part of an arm missing, a leg mangled.  Neighbors heard the screaming, called the authorities who arrived quickly it seems and pried the gator's jaws open, freeing what's left of the man from a further disarming, leaving him with barely a leg to stand on. 
Imagine these two guys, gator bait and whale bitch, by random chance a couple months from now, seated at a bar in Kissimmee, gator bait dude drinking cheap beer, whale bitch something with an umbrella in it along with his seafood appetizer, turning to each other, whale trainer guy says, you don't mind me askin', what happened to your leg, and your arm?  Long story, why's the front of your shirt wet?  There ya go.

So that's number uno of my six weird things about me, wild animals attacking kinda fascinates me.  To the extent that I don't think it would be a bad way to go.....what happened to your Dad?  Mountain lion took him on a hike in the back country of Utah, he never saw it coming.  Fucking bear took him down in Colorado, we found remnants of his hat and some pieces of his camera, seems from his compact flash card he was taking pics till the end. 

2.  If I found out I had a terminal disease I would aggressively treat it, at first, then say fuck you, I'm going on my terms, and I envision myself swan diving from a divine viewpoint at the Grand Canyon, or at Grandview Point at Canyonlands NP, or maybe somewhere much more back country obscure, perhaps a Butch Cassidy dive into the Colorado River, or maybe give it up inside a narrow slot canyon a hundred miles from anyone.

3.   Or..........and I love this one.........sui..cide bomb the glen canyon dam, I would be a hero, except in Phoenix, Vegas, and such places where they need the water for fountains, pools and golf courses.

4.  I'm the opposite of a hypochondriac.  I (perhaps idiotically) believe I can ward off illness and disease by willing it away.  I do take the medications prescribed to me (mostly) but dodge nearly all preventive diagnostics.  I know, stupid, but I told you it was something weird about me.  Don't say denial to this boy.

5.  I still fantasize about hippie chicks.

6.  I have an almost obsessive fascination with secrets and have never used anyone's against them.  People generally know they can trust me with their dark side, I would have made a good priest except for the sex part.  Although lately..........

Yeah, I gotta debouch my debauch.      

tompuss and katie, nine million dollar wedding, panting media, katie, don't drink the kool-aide.  suri, sorry......your name will always be suri, don't drink the kool-aide.  katie bought tom girly panties,  bet they don't make a video.  Scientologists fuck under water, quietly, or what?  Just wonderin'.

K-red, or red ex, whatever.....you're white dude, you can't rap.   You fucked up, see what happens you get in over your head?  Bring on the sex tape, expose her, put it on youtube.

Little boy beauty pagents?  Yay....my son will have a field day taking the women away from these momma's boys.  While they're combing their hair, doing the metro makeup thing.   Yeah, I'ma redneck, so shoot me.  Mothers who wanted girls, and will make sure they have one.  John Ben, eh?

OJ.......a book?  TV special?   If I did it, this is how I would have murdered my kids mother and her man?   Gonna let the kids stay up late and watch?    Hey OJ, you're black, get over it.  Mark Foley might have some extra rope, give him a call.

Ted Haggard.....a three to five year spiritual "restoration"?   Can you say degay me?   "Clean" christian men might excercise the laying on of hands?   That'll work.  Let's see, you wanna dehetero me, have some women lay their hands on me...........um....this ain't workin.   Mrs.  Haggard, give it up, he doesn't want you.  Take the kids and run.   Ted,  you're gay, get over it.  It ain't the end of the world, better than being a lying hypocrite.

oprah, gonna adopt some little african kid you madonna wannabe?  Melodrama pays well, huh?  The white women love you, I know, you're sacred?  But you're talentless, afraid to put anyone else on the cover of your magazine, you're chunky and black, get over it.   You're martha stewart without a prison record and a line of linens.   If you have a white male fan, bet he was in a beauty pagent as a child.  Or is in spiritual restoration.

anna nicole...find the cocktail your son drank half of, drink the rest.  howard niclolestern, make sure she shares.

TO, remember to refill your prescription.  Get the 90 day option.

george, it sucks to be you, huh?  you're an evil idiot, get over it.  Relax, go hunting with dick.  Or just hang with sadam, or somethin'.

hey democrats....you're like the dog who chased the car and caught it, now whathca gonna do with it.  You're republicans without the sex, power, and corruption, get over it.

barack osama.....a two year senator being touted as presidential material?  Surely it's not cause he's pretty.  He's kinda white, almost like us, I like him, like a black anchorman, I like them too, and white rappers, chunky melodramatic black chicks who give cars away, halle berry, she almost looks white, that m and m guy, he can really rap for a white dude. 

Those mexicans are really good at yardwork and flippin' burgers, I don't see what all the fuss is about.

Anybody else want to kill that german guy on the citi commercials?  Kind of reminds you why we kicked their ass a couple of times last century.  And I'm german, and really glad we left.

john mellencamp and jay z, other rock stars have sold out, you just were chompin at the bit.   Hit the commercials right out of the box, yay you. 

this is our country, ain't it grand? 

Vote early and vote often

Never in history has the future of mankind and the very earth itself rested in the hands of a group so arrogant, greedy, effete, scandalous, corrupt, and mean spirited.

I suppose there are a few good hearted, well intentioned souls looking to represent us but they are far and few between and even then, most likely wealthy with their own agenda, or backed by a powerful self interest group. 

Washington has become land of the lobbyist, favors, free travel, gifts and flagrant back scratching.  Don't take my word for it, look it up.........there are thousands upon thousands, many for each elected official, vying for favor and attention, representing every faction imaginable.......oil, pharmaceuticals, cattle, weapons systems, abortion, birth control, god, you name it, they're there with bags of money. 

Immigration, civil rights, sexual preference, the right to die, live, medical research, war, violence, paranoia and fear, feeding kids, teaching them and what to teach them, it all hangs in the delicate balance.  Never has a midterm election held such importance.

There will be confrontation at the polls, alleged corruption and confusion. 

And the choices?  Lame, disappointing, eager to attack, vote for me, it's not that I'm so good....look how bad my opponent is. 

The world is watching with a jaundiced eye, waiting to see how the scale will tip, many of them armed and dangerous.   Some old friends just shaking their collective heads and wondering how it came to this.

Greed and power, easy to hate, hard to resist.

I know I'm not greedy, unless you offer me enough money.  I don't care about no stinkin' power, unless you want to give me some.

Get out and vote, I guess.
And remember, we can't drink til the polls close.

May the best man win, let me know if you find him.

How............

is that you blink and wake up to the train wreck that is your life, she asked.

I think a lot of it is what gets you to the tipping point with someone, that gets you too far to come back, I said.

You can't....
unhurt
unhit
unabuse
unsay
undisrespect
uninsult
unscream
unignore
or unfuck

enough of those, it tips.

Everything past that is an exercise in futility.
But we so often stay, the reasons are many and sometimes even noble.

If I had a dime for every second chance, second try, that was successful.....I'd have about a dollar.
Untip, maybe, unspill, impossible.
It's easier to forgive yourself than someone else.  Perhaps because you're the one person you absolutely have to live with.

But we stay, usually too long, and live lives of not so quiet desperation.
A lesson often learned too late.
It's really short people, yesterday I was your age.
Living a life of not so quiet desperation.

CAUTION: RANT TO FOLLOW

Dear agents and governments of the following,

hezbollah
hamas
palistinians
israel
al quieda
syria
lebanon
skin heads
supremists of all colors, shapes and sizes
france
iran
iraq
taliban
radical fundamentalist anyfuckingbody
united states
saudi arabia
north korea
china
big oil
big pharmaceutical
land rapers
dam builders
all global warmers including me
african genocide pukes
the holier than thou stupid fuck religious right
the ignorant head in the sand dumbass left
crooked, corrupted politicos and ceo's
rapers, pillagers, burners, abusers, and pedofuckingphiles
all telemarketers, solicitors, erectors of billboards and printers of junk mail flyers and those phony fucking official looking mailings that you think I'm too stupid to see through
and any other nationalistic greedy fanatics I've missed

You're ruining a beautiful world!!

FUCK YOU ALL YOU GREEDY STUPID SELF RIGHTEOUS FUCKS, EAT SHIT AND DIE

I have to quit drinking vodka before watching the news.

Seethes, growls, breathes deep, turns off the tv, fixes another drink, and goes to look at Muse's pics again

Underwhelmed

Lately I've been going over some things in my mind, instead of going under them, mulling them over, why is mulling always done "over"?.  No one ever just mulls.

Riinnnnnnnngggg

Hello?

Edge, whatcha doin man?

Mulling, I'm mulling.

Huh?  You mean like mulling stuff over, in your mind?

No, just mulling, most of it is in my mind though, just not over.

I hope you get over this weirdness man, you're starting to freak me out.

I may just get under it, so much easier to get under it, that over it shit becomes tiresome.

I think you're just overcome by recent events.

Actually I'm not, more undercome than overcome.  Think you can overcome?  I don't.  Undercoming can be depressing though.  So can coming too soon. 

Why don't you come over?  We'll drink a beer, talk things over.

That's way too much over, dude, I'm tellin ya, I'm just not up for it.

You under the weather?

Not really, I'm pretty much smack dab in the middle of it.  You ever say dab without saying smack?

Uh, guess not.  Right, well maybe some other time.

You mean like three, maybe four, in the afternoon, some other time like that?

Um.....yeah, right.  I can see you're busy, caught you in the middle of something it seems.

The mulling thing, almost three quarters done though, smack dab three quarters done mulling.  I might start over when I'm done though, rehash my mull.  When this one is over.  See if I can understand it, will probably miss my mark and overstand it though.  I may be overstating that though, dunno.

You're confusing me man, talking like some undercover spy dude or something, buncha damn riddles, not making any sense. 

I may be underly sensitive, sorry, don't feel undercover, more like my cover is blown, like overcovered.  You think someone can be over the radar?

I don't know, google it and see.  Well, later man, over and out. Some time when you're up for it

Yeah, some other time maybe.  I'm down with that.  Later

                            *Goes back to finish the mulling*   

Blogging, depression, and murder

Today I found the blog of Kevin Ray Underwood, charged today in the murder of ten year old Jamie Rose Bolin who had been missing since last Wednesday.  Ironically, the only comment to the post below was from a blogger whose site I had visited at one time.  A young Washington DC girl whose description of what steps she had to take emotionally just to socialize at a small New Year's Eve party was utterly wrenching.  This twenty-six year old man committed a heinous crime but the following post gives insight into the depressed mind and the extent to which it can inhabit a person.  I lost a brother to depression and alcoholism, my mother suffered depression and I have had a few bouts myself.  It grows like a cancer and can literally make it impossible to go out of the house.  Does it induce evil on occasion, was the evil already there?  A very small percentage of depressed people commit crimes, let alone violent horrific crimes.  What kind of wickedness worms its way into a battered soul that they will act in such a manner?  It's being reported in the national press that Underwood blogged about cannibalism.  It's interesting to note that the reference to cannibalism is on his blogger profile page. 

Kevin

• Age: 26
• Gender: male
• Astrological Sign: Sagittarius
• Zodiac Year: Sheep
• Occupation: Stocker
• Location:      Purcell      :      Oklahoma      :      United States   

 

About Me

Single, bored, and lonely, but other than that, pretty happy.

   

If you were a cannibal, what would you wear to dinner?

The skin of last night's main course.

Aren't those questions Blogger initiated?  Seems to me they are and if so, even though he was apparently considering such an atrocious act, wouldn't it be incredibly ironic if the idea somehow germinated here?

The post 

 

Saturday, February 04, 2006                               

 

I've never understood what's supposed to be fun about getting drunk. What's fun about slurring and stumbling and acting like an idiot? Or, even worse, falling down, vomiting, and passing out?

I guess part of the problem for me, is that I just have no tolerance for alcohol. I'm completely drunk after 3 or 4 beers. And being drunk is uncomfortable or painful for me. My face gets almost painfully warm after just two beers, and then I start getting a really bad headache. I'm usually in too much pain to get any enjoyment from being drunk.

That doesn't stop me from getting drunk occasionally, usually when I'm depressed. Which is a bad idea, because pretty much every time I get drunk, I get depressed, whether I was depressed before I started or not. Pretty much every time I get drunk, I end up punching brick walls, or at least fighting the urge to punch things and freak out. Especially if I'm in a party situation where there's more than two or three people around. Because I can't handle the social interaction, and I get pissed off. Pissed off at myself for not being able to be social, and pissed off at the other people because they can, and pissed off at God for making me be this way. If there is a God. Pretty much the only time I believe in God is when I want to blame Him for something. Or, when I'm really depressed, to cry and beg him to make me better, to make whatever is wrong in my brain go away, so that I can live like a normal person.

That's all I want in life, is to be able to live like a normal person.

I've been really bad again lately. I need to have the doctor write me a prescription for more Lexapro or something, and start taking that again. I wonder if they even still make Lexapro? I checked some of those online pharmacies, to see if I could get it cheaper from Canada or something, but none of them I've looked at have it. They have five or six other antidepressants and anti-anxiety medications, but not that one.

I've been really bad lately, probably worse than I've ever been. Except for work, I've hardly left the apartment in close to two months. I keep not going to the store until I'm completely out of stuff to eat and HAVE to go. Until a couple of days ago, I hadn't even taken my trash out in weeks. I could barely even get into my kitchen for all the piles of trash everywhere and on every available counter space. Because along with the social anxiety, this time I seem to have developed a tremendous apathy. I just sit here at the computer every minute of the day, when I'm not at work. A week or so ago, I spent my day off sitting here at the computer, barely moving from the chair, for 14 hours. I just can't make myself do anything, even simple stuff, like pick up something that falls on the floor. I'm like "Oh, I'll pick that up later, maybe," and then it lays there for a week.

I'm a little better this last week, especially on the apathy thing. The other day I actually left the house and did some shopping. Then I just drove around town for awhile. It's been a long time since I did that, just cruised around town listening to music. There's parts of this town I hadn't seen in years. And it's a tiny town. Then I came home and cleaned up all the trash. Two and a half trashbags full. Then I cleaned the rat's cage.

Well, this post has already ended up being really long, so I guess I should just go all out and finally write about all the stuff that has happened since I last wrote a real post. Which was October.

On like the second or third or November, I joined a gym. I decided to finally get off my ass and join a gym, so I could get in shape enough so that I could finally realize my dream of taking a Karate class. I actually went to the gym too, almost every day. In fact, I went too much at first, and after a couple of weeks, I had to cut down and only go every other day at the most. By New Years I had lost 20 pounds and several inches, and was looking the best I've looked in my life. But now I've gained all of it back probably. I haven't weighed in weeks, but I bet I weight at least as much as I weighed before I started the diet, if not more. Around mid-December, I got really sick for about a month, and just never felt like going, so I got out of the habit of going. So then even after I got better, I just hardly ever went, and then now for the last month or so, as I've said, my social anxiety thing was too bad for me to go. Also, these last few weeks I've been eating tremendous amounts. Most of the weight I've gained back has been in probably the last two or three weeks.

Also, when I was going to the gym, and losing all that weight, it made me feel better, mentally as well as physically, I was actually enjoying being out around people, and almost had the confidence to have talked to women, but I didn't. It wasn't until I stopped going for a month or two, that my problem came back with a vengeance.

Christmas was pretty good. I got a really nice Digital Camera, I found it in a store later, and found out it costs almost $350. It's a Nikon Coolpix L1. 6.2 megapixels, 5x Optical Zoom, and takes video, as well as still pictures. I've wanted a decent digital camera for a long time now, but this one is too nice. It's too expensive, I'm afraid to leave the house with it. What I really want is like a cell phone with a built-in camera or something, or just some fairly cheap, but decent camera, so I can just carry it around with me at pretty much all times so I can take pictures of anything I see that I want to take a picture of.

That's pretty much all that's happened to me recently. Work has been the same as usual. It sucks. It's better than it was, because Dale got fired a few months ago. I can't remember if I ever wrote about that or not. A couple of other guys have worked there over the last few months, but they've all been fired now too. So now it's just me and my aunt Valorie, and, two days a week, the old man, Gene. He's in his 70s, and retired, but he works there and Ben just pays him cash under the table. He's a pretty good worker, he's worked there for a few years, but in November he went into the hospital for prostate cancer surgery, and had a mild heart attack during it, and was gone for almost a month, and since he came back seems to be showing his age now or something. In the mind, I mean. He is annoying to work with now. He messes things up and does things wrong a lot, and then I have to fix them.

Oklahoma has sucked the last couple of months. More than usual I mean. Half the state has burned down. We finally got a little rain the other day, but it was only between .5 and 1 inch for most of the state, so it did nothing to help the dryness. Until then, it had been like 120 days since some parts of the state got any amount of rainfall over a quarter of an inch. You can throw a cigarette out the car window, and the grass just bursts into flames. Dozens of people's houses have burned down, and like thousands of acres have burned. About a month ago, in one day alone, there were 34 new fires.

Speaking of houses burning down, Jared sent me his new phone number a couple of days ago, and said for me to call him. His house burned down a few months ago, and I hadn't really heard from him since. I really should call him, but I'm just so lazy and apathetic. I'm a bastard. I'll call him later today.

Out damn spot

Caution
No guardrail ahead

Spots on the backs of my hands and thin ones on my jeans but no dog named spot and none on my lungs as far as I know.  In a bit of a rough one but I can spot hope on the horizen, bright bouncing sunspots before my eyes.

I could find your g one, spot you a head start so you could finish before I do, I don't mind coming in last, not a bad spot to be in, coming in far more important than coming in first.

Thing I notice about spot remover is it usually just changes the color and makes it bigger, so yes, see, you can change your spots.

You want to lift I'll spot you or I can just spot you from afar.  Or anear.  Or lick that spot behind your ear.

You want to stop a man tell him you're spotting, it works because stop and spot share the same letters I think or maybe just because it mentally rhymes with discharge.  No woman having ever been harrassed any further after saying she vomited upon seeing that she had a spotty discharge.  Try it sometime, if you need to, it could get you out of a tough spot

Spot me a twenty til...um....payday?

Buncha pretty funny stuff, really

I think I might go to a singles bar tonight so I can get the "what do you do" question and just give off this vacant stare.  Probably say, I have a web site.  I get up from wherever I am about every 10 minutes and walk somewhere, often outside.  I left my attention span in my other jeans and I'm one with my avian brethren flit flying about, never on one limb very long before a short perch elsewhere only to move and move again.  That's why they call it flighty.

I told Bored Housewife (me being bored house dude)  in a comment to a post in which she used the word mutant to say it fast and loud a buncha times and it would make her laugh.  I'm wondering if it did, I have time to wonder such things.  She kills me, she does.  And she has the least aptly named blog site ever, ever.  I mean lol leen, not lil (which is what I do).  Is LOL an even heartier chortle (say that fast and loud, it's even funnier than mutant).  A bellylaugh so to speak, as opposed to throaty chortle (nevermind) Ha.

World record for parenthesis in that paragraph, see thoughts within thoughts.  I'm not wearing anything under my jeans today, so there.

I may go see Basic Instinct 2 tonight, late, sit off in the corner in the back so I can get in touch with myself feelings.  Won't be the same without Nicky (Michael Douglas) in it though but it will be nice not to see him walking away naked.  Dude looks like a penguin from that angle and state of attire.

I think I would prefer a shameful hussy but they are so much harder to find than the shameless variety.  Just seems like she would be more fun.  Maybe it's hard to be a hussy with shame, dunno.   I don't want a tart though, or a harlot.  Tart sounds flaky and crusty and harlot makes me think of a cleft lip or something.  Slut is overused, hell, every good girl is in touch with her inner slut these days.  Don't get me wrong, I think that's a good thing, it's emancipating (and it's gotten me laid more too) and it's time you ladies are given your due and the opportunity to behave as inappropriately as we men have for years.  I think I'll rush up to some guy soon and in a loud muggery type voice demand that he "give me my fucking due man".  Imagine the look.  "I said, give...me....my....fucking due!!  That's some funny shit.

Or maybe poke him in the chest all mean and puffed up yelling "You just keep your fucking wits about you asshole, I mean it".  Then when he doesn't, say, "now what did I just fucking tell you?"  Jerk, didn't keep his wits about him.

Or maybe in the singles bar tonight I can walk up to some metro dude with all his buds and a bevy of chicks around and in a loud voice say "you ever fuck around on me again I will  separate you from your dick with a meat cleaver and  use it as a tie bar."  Then just walk out.   I don't mean for that to be homophobic any more than I meant to call you a slut, I just think this shit is funny, and now I'm gonna use the word hysteria.  I needed some hysteria, who'd a thunk the word mutant in a post would  inject such nonsense into me after my recent hystericalectomy.

I am so far from politically correct in this post.  Fuckabunchapoliticalcorrectness.  The president does.

Is hysteria a perennial?  I sure hope so. 

She says

Her tires crunched and kicked up gravel and at the last second she skidded slightly, stopping short, not  following her usual path around to the back of the house, shifted into park, and flipped the mirrored visor down to check what she knew was perfectly applied only moments before.  She fumbled  with the leather pouch, brushed pink on cheeks already peach, and tossed it back on the seat.  She lifted her hair with red tipped fingers and it fell back to softly frame blue eyes and creamy cheeks, lips that pouted even parted.  She kicked off Jimmy Choo pippa flats and stepped out gingerly so as not to crack her Memphis pedicure, she wanted toes in tact, soles dirty.   She knew her niceties weren't lost on him, he often gifted her with small elegances in which he knew she would delight.  She reached cool grass, rounded the house, and two stepped her way up to the wooden screen door that once startled her when it banged during a stormy late night fuck, a night she learned he loved her fright, what it did to her eyes and how it made her cling.  She sometimes wished he would cling instead of always being something to be clung to. 

She tugged at her shorts, shirt, sat, and waited, knowing his routine to the minute, for now.  When she became too attuned he would change it up, however slightly, more stubborn than defiant.  Statements not spoken.   She thought about what she had, where she was centered, central, the centerpiece, and why she came where she was none of those.  She knew her place on the altar but shook off worship like she did leers, jeers, and gaping dumbass boy stares, prefering  instead the secrets of the confessional and the darkness behind the curtain.   Those  who wanted to build her up had no idea she wanted to be taken apart.  Then put back together.

She forced calm upon herself when she heard him, knowing he would make her wait.  She had done the same to him far too many times to feel resentment.  She would wait, as he had.  When he did come, he came silently, sometimes she loved him for what he didn't say.  He handed her a beer she didn't want but it gave her something to do with her hands other than rubbing them together.  They exchanged a million words in two sentences and he stood to take her where she had come to go.  He knew what it took for her to come back, as much as he had to give up to let her, the fear of facing each other again not as great as the fear of turning away.

He took her confession in his chair, framing her face in his hands, her dirty soles flat on his thighs, back to the place no one else took either of them.   She spun on him, faced him, chewed at his lips, bit at his tongue, pinned his head back and smothered him with her essence, hating that she had come back, but not as much as she hated staying away.