Archive for August, 2010

1. Doomed (2006)

What chance do we have?

With the misdirection society is plunging in, do we have even a shot at living simple, upstanding, moral lives?

Definition and interpretation of morality is largely subjective, however I would say that disparaging someone after, or making light of, their untimely death is flatly immoral.

I recently overheard a man talking about his ex-wife. He was speaking to a few women, one in particular, and casually mentioned that his wife had gotten cancer and died during the finalization of their divorce, “…making the process easy for him!” No remorse in his voice, no follow-up statement to make himself sound less arrogant or heartless. Instead, his crude follow up was, “I didn’t do it! I didn’t do it!”

Read On…

2. Beep-Beep. (1999)

I was riding my bicycle down a city street in Rochester, NY when some idiot and his girlfriend in a gigantic Jeep tried to veer me into the cars parked alongside us. It was a perfect east coast spring day- cool and sunny. I had a sweatshirt on, and it must have made me look a bit younger than I actually was; Bullies usually only mess with easy targets.

I avoided hitting the cars, not for the lack of him trying, and as what I thought to be a passive retort, I rode in the center of the street making it briefly impossible for him to pass by. I was confused and pissed, but intent on enjoying the day… I was on my way to a friends’ house, so I opted to inconvenience him for just a minute and then turn off towards my destination.

The plan was solid until I heard what sounded like a loudspeaker in my ear: “Get out of the road you stupid fuck! I’d love to just run you over but my Jeep’s too nice! Get out of the way you loser!”

What a stupid, one-in-a-million chance. The prick that was veering me into the cars also had a megaphone with speakers set up in his jock-mobile; That alone entitles him to have something bad happen.

Read On…

3. Learn the Hard Way. (2002)

I am at a point where I don’t understand anything, least of all the things in my life that I thought I understood quite thoroughly.
I’m not driven by anything positive, I’m not contributing anything I feel is positive, and I fucking can’t stand to even look most of the people I meet square in the eye.
Those things are a problem.

I am a person that is highly affected by my intentional and unintentional surroundings; I feel as each week and month passes, they become more and more foreign and less and less appealing. I can’t really say why. I think it has something to do with the fact that every time I leave the god damn house I’m reminded how the things that fuel modern society are the very same things that fuel my aversion to it.

Read On…

4. Fatally Flawed. (2001)

In everyone’s day-to-day travels, they surely run across someone that is thinking something bizarre or derogatory about them. One easy way to determine how much of a freak or an asshole someone may be is whether they have the gall to say those things to strangers… I’ve met more than a few people that haven’t yet made the complicated distinction between casual conversation and belligerent antagonism.

The most recent disappointment was a fanatical gentleman at the Home Depot in Lakewood, Ca. My friends were building wooden skateboard ramps, and I was assigned the daunting task of matching the screws they were using to some new ones at Home Depot. I was also responsible for paying for them, carrying the bag to the car, AND delivering them to the builders. All in one day…

I was walking around the worst home improvement store in the free world carrying a screw and looking for the cryptic sign in the aisle that would lead me to its mates when a well-dressed, normal-looking thirty-something man stopped me short. I figured he may have mistaken me for an employee- I get that a lot at establishments frequented by oddballs and older white people- but no such luck.

Read On…

5. The War. (2010)

As time lengthens after a notable occurrence or significant feeling, their gravity and severity often dissipate… or at the very least, soften and blur. I believe this is mandatory in order for sanity to stay intact.

I often recall feelings from many years ago as if they were born today, and while I am glad to have had experiences worthy of strong memory, if their potency were to diminish a bit, it would make my psychological situation a little more manageable.

Maybe they are simply un-reconciled within me; Maybe I am just a big fuckin’ baby. Either way, when I look around my house at some of the non-disposable things that live there, my eyes often well up and my heart drops. Many other innocuous incidents elicit a similar result.

I am quite sad, quite often. I’m not an overtly morose sort, and certainly not one that needs or solicits sympathy for troubles I have undoubtedly brought on myself. I am also not one that believes being sensitive makes me weak; Quite the opposite. The darkness and ill-ease that keep me up at night also drive me; Sometimes mad, but often times to, through, and past any goals I set or roadblocks that may stand in my way.

And maybe if hard things softened over time, as I wished, it would be a disservice to the memory. Maybe the honor of enduring the experience is served best by its memory staying sharp and mean, and proving useful in guiding my future path.

6. “The Trump Card” (Non-fiction, 1997/ 2007)

This is a story about my personal interactions with Mark Christie, the man that kidnapped and killed four-year-old Kali Ann Poulton in 1994 and killed Viola Manville in 1988. It is a PDF, linked below in red.

The Trump Card

It is not to be re-posted anywhere without written permission. All writing on this site is Copyright, both the real way and the poor mans way. And, I’ll find you.