Apples, Cheddar & The Rain

You know with a little work and some poorly played music that last post could be a crappy Dashboard Confessional song...


But seriously folks in trying to find that balance between "survival" and "massive fuck-all destruction" I do and say some funny things.


Not funny ha-ha, funny what the fuck.

And for the most part I like to consider myself lucky that people care enough about me to let most of that shit slide.

On the other hand it leaves me sitting here on occassion going, "Was that really as fucked as it sounded?"

Sometimes I find out much after the fact that it was, other times I sort it out on my own rather quickly.

I suppose out of context just about everything hear can sound like total madness, and sometimes only the people that know me very well can decipher the more cryptic musings which very often turn out to be thinly veiled inside jokes or off the cuff references to minor things that happened several days, weeks, months, or years ago.

And then again sometimes even I look back at an old post and go, "Why did I write that?" Which is pretty impressive because I rarely forget anything. So today had a few "Really?" moments, and on top of those there were a few "Huh...go figure" moments, and on top of all of those was one fairly minor yet hilarious "You've gotta fucking be kidding me" moment.

So as we creep past one in the morning, as I sit at my desk munching on overpriced fruit and cheese and wait for the weather to turn I'm left to wonder when the funny stuff is going to be replaced by the big stuff and when the big stuff is going to actually turn into something. I'm not really on the path towards anything, I'm sort of just wandering in the woods. But I'm not lost, oh no, I'm not lost. I'm just taking my time.

Just taking my time.

What a weird day...

Muddled

I'm conflicted. I'm distracted. I'm all over the goddamn place.

I'm getting a lot done, but I'm feeling nonproductive.

I'm trying to get right, but I'm just feeling more wrong.

But I feel good.

I feel great.

I feel like no matter how hard it gets I'm going to be ok.

And I don't know.

What might be coming next.

And I don't know.

If it's worse than all the rest.

And I don't care.

Because I've got this dead to rights, I've got life in my sights, and I don't know.

But I think I'm going to make it this time...

Christian Palomba Knows...

Oy. What's that?

You're wondering why I haven't been writing quite as much lately? Could it be that I've gone totally soft in the head and can't quite seem to get the old proverbial wit up? Might it have something to do with my extreme dislike for the current hot spell we're staggering through? Or the fact that I just don't fancy trying to think while my allergies have me so congested that every time I open my mouth I'm afraid the pressure's going to pop my brains right out?

No.

I think it has more to do with the fact that I'm holding back, and if I'm not going to be totally honest than I'm just not going to write. I don't lie. Never have, never will. I omit on occasion, refuse to answer a question every now and then. But when words come past my lips in anything but jest, they are, and always will be, the absolute truth.

And I just don't feel like compromising that for some silly-ass blog.

Friday I went out for a bit, Saturday I stayed in all night to watch movies and eat chicken with the kids. Sunday we assembled a small group and headed up to Palisades where we had a blast (although with that group I reckon we'd have a blast most anywhere we went).

Monday I worked till my fingers bled (quite literally actually) and watched The Reader while I did. It was pretty fantastic. By the time midnight rolled around I was right delirious, and by the time we crossed 1 A.M. I found myself staring in the mirror one allergy addled eye swollen, bloodshot, and twitchy...the other inexplicably clear and suddenly realized...my eyes had changed color. Where normally my eyes are the (rather nice if you ask me) mixture of green and brown we call hazel, last night they were totally (and rather eerily) green. Cool.

So tonight (even though I rented Frost/Nixon in anticipation of a long night of pounding on the keyboard) I've got a bit of an early out card. After a long week or so topped off by a long last two days (three stupid breakdowns, and one stupid accident since three this afternoon) I figured I'd get a bit of rest. Problem is I don't have anything to do, and don't have air conditioning back at the homestead. So I was thinking of heading out by myself to grab a drink at one of my old haunts. But since my old friend isn't working this evening and I've been rather absent from the scene I would have to find someone new to keep me company. The catch? My old friends actual friends are working tonight and they'll rat me out in a second, meaning next time I visit it'll be all cold shoulders and sideways glances as a bit of faux jealous reaction for pretending to chat up another bird while she was off somewheres in the real world, not because she actually cares but because she thinks she has to pretend to care. Let's reiterate. None of this is real. It's a fucking go-go bar. It's 100% make-fucking-believe and still I can't catch a fucking break. What do you call it when your fantasy world fucking sucks as much as the real world? My life. As it is written in the book of youvegottafuckingbekiddingme, Chapter Duh, Line Gofuckyourselves, "All women are crazy...even the professionals."

Let's keep that in mind kiddies.

Add to that the fact that I'm piss all broke a bit earlier than I expected and you've got a rather boring couple of nights lined up. I haven't rented the apartment upstairs so that's a grand every month I'm not seeing. I've got certain obligations that I've got to meet that I didn't have last year, and I'm still spending money like it's going out of style. Some of the things I'm dropping money on are admittedly a bit dodgy, but then again, so am I. It's all in good fun. And the money I spend does far more good then the money everyone else doesn't. When I opened my wallet today I realized that I'm actually in negative numbers for the first time ever and when I sat down and did the math I realized that when my accountant does my taxes next year that if he looks carefully (and if everything goes according to plan) he'll possibly find that my estimated worth hit a million on the same exact day that my actual worth hit zero. You've got to laugh sometimes. If you don't you'd just be crying all the time, and what sort of fun would that be? It'll actually help keep me out of trouble being slightly less than liquid, but it'll also make it a bit tougher to get into the sorts of trouble I still intend on getting into. C'est la vie...

So on second thought I might as well plow through the rest of this shit on my desk, drink an obscene amount of sugarfree Red Bull, and maybe even whack off a bit, and by whack off a bit I mean take a fifteen minute break to play Rome: Total War instead of staring at contracts and spreadsheets trying to figure out how to come up with enough money to build an automated school bus wash and invest heavily in a stockpile of valium and hand grenades because let's face facts it's been that sort of week...and it's only Tuesday.

God I love my life.

Works In Progress...

So tell me friend
when does this story end?
Do we start over at the beginning
or just try again
to find our way
through another day?

I was thinking as I was walking and looking as I was talking at the pretty pretty people at my problems all gawking with sugar sweet certainty of a man who was popping from one place to another just as free as could be...

So tell me friend
where does this story end?
Do we start over at the beginning
or just try again
to find our way
through another day?

Following you around do you hear what I'm saying, all the lies that were told, the games we were playing, have me feeling so old I doubt I'll be staying long enough to see how this one goes...

So tell me friend
how does this story end?
Do we start over at the beginning or just try again
to find our way
through another day...

Oh Fuckstockings...

I've never met anyone else who seems to be contractually obligated by life to attempt to be everything and nothing all at once, all the while knowing they aren't anything at all.

I'd say my life's gone off the rails but the truth is I'm doing just fine, it's everyone else all around me that seems rather fucked as of late. I wish I could do more, or say more, or just do anything to help any of them...but I can't. So I sort of just watch, and wait, because I know.

I've spent entirely too much time in the office this week, entirely too much time with my mind wandering when it should have been sharp and focused. Last night I spent too much time drinking, and laughing, and spending ungodly amounts of money (how much do I have to spend before it comes godly? We really ought to be getting there soon).

Today I spent some time writing, I've been writing quite a bit this week even if it's not going anywhere. I keep getting sidetracked though. I've had that song from the fucking Hannah Montana movie stuck in my head for four motherfucking days and every once and awhile when I'm trying to come up with the a line I slip and the song makes it's way back in (pop it, lock it, polka dot it...wait, what the fuck?). It's rather mind-fuckingly frustrating.

But then again I guess it's just been a frustrating sort of a week.

Not just for me though, for everyone it seems.

I just keep telling people, everything will be fine. Half the time I don't know who I'm trying to convince. But I know, everything will be fine. Not because it has to be, not because it can't work out any other way. Just because, well...I know. I know it's going to be ok.

Look, I know you won't believe me (and you is so often so very many people) and I don't blame you. If you were the one writing this and I was the one reading and it all sounded just this crazy I probably wouldn't believe it either. But believing or not believing in something doesn't make it any more or less true...

So don't worry about it. Everything's going to be just fine.
~

And yes this was a fairly incoherent, rambling, nonsensical entry but I'm half delirious with exhaustion, half delirious with boredom, and half delirious with hunger. So if you add that all up I'm like 150% delirious and I wisely chose to pass up an excellent masturbation joke I just cooked up which just makes me more frustrated...which I think makes me more delirious.

Bad Dreams

Not nightmares really, just dreams that weren't all that interesting but I still feel like sharing.

First one was from a few days back. A bunch of guys I'm friends with, two of my cousins, and a few of the church kids were standing outside this restaurant on the first floor of a really tall hotel. It seemed like a nice place, too nice to let us in. As we're standing there debating where to eat a concierge comes from the front door of the hotel and invites half the group up. We debate for a moment whether only half of us should go. Simultaneously someone opens a door on the side of the building and offers to let the rest of the group ride up in the freight elevator. This is where it gets sort of trippy. I go with both groups at the same time. It's like I'm watching a split screen movie, but I can't separate my motions in either window so it's a little clunky and I keep having to lean on the side of the elevator to stop from falling. These are both really fancy elevators and they only have a single button. So it's like they know where we're going already. They're sort of funky elevators, but I'm just glad they're not ladders at this point (Progress!).

When we get up to the hotel suite I find that we're one group again, but some of the people have gone missing. No one seems bothered. We find ourselves in the most opulent hotel suite ever seen. There are three levels, dozens of bedrooms, several offices, a raquet ball court, a swimming pool, and glass walled showers in which there are currently women showering so we're all shooed out of the room rather quickly.

We find ourselves in the living room where there is no tv, but huge shelves full of books and a fancy photo camera on a tripod. As it turns out everyone that stays in this room must take a photograph and add it to one of the photo albums. The concierge explains that there are so many albums because no one stays more than a single night in the room. We ask him why and he explains that God actually lives in this room as well and he gets a bit rowdy at night. God's a good time he says, but he's a shite roommate.

We all get into the elevator and head downstairs to have something to eat. But when we get out of the main elevator we find that the lobby is gone and instead we're near the service door on the side of the building. We walk out meaning to go around to the restaurant but when we close the door behind us we find that we're outside of a totally different building and don't know the way back.

The other dream was simpler. I was staying in my grandfather's old house, except it wasn't really his house. For some reason my bedroom wasn't in the main house it was in this little outhouse type deal with a glass roof attached to the mainhouse by a long glass hallway. Lots of the glass panels in this hallway were broken out, others were yellowed with age. It was cool and rainy so the stone floor was both cold and slick. Every morning I would wake up and shower in my room. The shower had a dark roof, but to get to my clothes I had to run out of my bedroom and down this long hallway to a little warm wooden closet where my clothes were. Problem was all the windows in the main house looked down on my room and this hall, so I had to stay low and move quick to get to the closet without being seen. And it was freezing cold. Did I mention that?

So every morning I'd wake up and make a run for it and dive headfirst into the closet to warm up and get dressed. And everytime I got dressed and finally broke the chill, the dream would restart. Sometimes the door would be closed and I'd have to open it. Sometimes the floor would be so wet I'd slip and fall. Other times it was so cold I'd have a hard time breathing and my chest would hurt like hell. One time I smashed through the closet door because it was locked, another time I got there only to find that I'd somehow gotten turned around and run back into my room.

I never saw anyone watching from the windows of the main house, but I knew they were there. And it scared me. But still the sequence started over and over again. Until finally I threw open my bedroom door and sprinted out into the hall only to find that it was suddenly dark and warm. And when I looked up through the glass ceiling I couldn't see the main house or even the sky. There was just nothing. The closet door was open just a crack and I could see the light glowing from inside, but I could hear something too. It sounded like people. It sounded like a dinner party. I began to walk towards the closet hoping that my clothes would still be inside but more concerned that when I threw open the door I'd find myself in the middle of some dinner party...stark naked. When I looked back my bedroom was gone from behind me and I came around to the realization that I didn't really have any choice to proceed, regardless of what was on the other side of the door. So I started to move forward again, but the faster I walked the quicker the door receeded, and it just kept on growing farther and farther away. So it continued, me walking quickly towards the door and the door retreating into the distance...

And then I woke up.

Dolce

I don't know where this is going.

I mean I'm sure it's supposed to go somewhere, but then again I reckon it doesn't matter much.

When you're lost in the woods and you find a path you follow the damn thing no matter where it leads.

You just have to hope it leads out.

So just a quick recap of what I've actually been doing these past few days while I've been posting nothing but rambling globs of who the hell knows what in a decidedly unnarrative sort of way.

I did absolutely nothing but work on Monday, nothing I can recall at least.
Tuesday night I stayed out all night for no real reason, but did manage to drink a fair bit and have some decent conversation (totally ad libbed a bit about college girls being the most valuable commodity known to mankind, actually thought it was rather funny).

Wednesday night I stopped in at the youth room (sample smartass comments: In response to the kids being asked "What advice would you give a friend who was considering having an abortion?" "I would tell them not to rush to make a decision, they're pretty easy to kill for the first few years anyway." In response to the kids being asked if they would let a fifteen year old pregnant friend stay with them if she has been kicked out by her parents, "Of course you'd let her stay with you guys, come on, you already know she puts out." Why do they let me come to these meetings again?). Afterwards I grabbed a bite to eat with three of the guys, the oldest of whom is roughly 11 years younger than me. I'm lucky the waitress didn't think I was their father.

Thursday night I stayed up all night and just walked...mile after mile after mile. While walking I watched the last half of The Good, The Bad & The Ugly (still a friggin' amazing movie) and the first bit of La Dolce Vita (another amazing movie). I was a little hesitant about trying to read subtitles while walking on a treadmill but by mile 7 or so I was delirious enough that I'm pretty sure I thought I could speak Italian. Either that or I was just making up a story to go with the pictures.

Yesterday afternoon I checked out the old man's new house. It's pretty freaking sweet. It's not one of those big brand new McMansion's you see all over the place. But it is a pretty big goddamn house considering it's just him and his wife there. There are so many goddamn closets in the house that I'm pretty sure every time he puts something in one it's going to be gone forever because he'll never be able to remember which closet he put it in.

Last night I stopped by the house to see the kids for a bit and Little Sister had some of her friends by for a sleep over. They were all absolutely insane. My mom had me take them down to the convenience store for some junk food and I'll be damned if I didn't even have the car doors closed before I had to scream, "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Add to that the fact that they didn't shut up the entire time we were in the store, and it's a very small store so four teenage girls running roughshod up and down the aisles while Rookie and I stood near the counter repeatedly apologizing to the clerk, and it was a pretty frustrating fifteen minutes or so.

After that I hit up Wizards with a few friends and had our normal bizarre yet hilarious conversations...and a few drinks.

This morning I spent trying to catch up on some sleep, marvelling at how quickly I'm going bald, and cursing the fact that my feet still hurt so bad I could scream.

This afternoon I chilled with the kids, and I'm on my way to hang out with them for a bit now as well.

Tomorrow...who knows.

We will just have to see.

Ecstasy of Gold: Seven Sorts of Sorry

So I'll come clean right now.

I didn't walk nine miles last night.

I know I set out to, but that's just not what happened.

See I started thinking, and like thinking does on occasion it totally got in the way. I mean it's not like I was thinking anything bad, I'm pretty sure I was delirious most of the night. But I was thinking...a lot.

It wasn't the "What am I doing with my life?" conversation that I sometimes have with people. I mean we all have that conversation at one point or the other, most of the time I think I'm on the happy side of that conversation.

It wasn't the "conquering my demons" conversation, or the "figuring out why I'm in a good mood for no reason" conversation ,or even the "damn I really need to get laid" conversation. In fact it wasn't much of a conversation at all. It was just a stream of mildly fucked consciousness. And it was actually pretty neat.

I've thought a lot about the ways I've changed in the last year and a half or so. And the last couple of days I've been trying to put that in perspective somewhat because I know how far I've come, but I know how far I've got left to go.

I thought a lot about my friends last night, a lot about my family, even a little about God. I've thought about the big things I've fucked up, the little things I've gotten wrong, and that huge chunk of things that I know I got right...but that still turned out sort of sideways.

And I've thought about those times I've changed in my life. Those times I wasn't happy with the way things were going, and knew it was time to make a change. Those times I've been ahead of the curve and been able to change as the changing world necessitated. Mostly I thought about those times I've changed with a whole lot of help. The times I've gone into a situation one way, and came out another.

See there's that whole bit about God closing a door but opening a window. Shit bit of symbolism meant to show that there's always a way. Thing is that analogy doesn't account for what's on the other side of the opening. You go through that window looking to change and it just might happen. But if you don't know what's in the room you don't know what sort of change is waiting for you. So sure you're going to change, but change into what?

You know what they say.

One bastard goes in...another one comes out.

I'm a lucky guy. I know that. If it wasn't for luck I wouldn't still be sitting here. I'm the King of Coincidence. You see I reckon I'm the best there is at a whole lot of bad things. And it'll likely stay that way. You want to be the best, you've got to beat the best. And to beat me you've got to be both better than me, and luckier than me at the same time. I'm not saying it will never happen, I'm just saying it hasn't happened yet, and I've got no reason to believe it will anytime soon. Likely because no one really wants the sort of crown I'm wearing.

I've had a good life. An easy life by most accounts. And all the troubles in my life I've brought on myself one way or the other. Sure my life could have been easier, but at what cost? I wouldn't want it to be any easier if it was even a little bit less interesting.

I've never done anything. Probably never will. But for someone who doesn't do a lot of wrong I sure do have a lot of sins to pay for.

Now I'm not much for begging forgiveness for my sins, but I'll gladly pay for them when the time comes. We perform our penance privately, every day and every night. And when we bleed it is so that we may see our blood and be reminded of exactly what it is we hold on to so dearly.

I mean I'm seven sorts of sorry, and if that ain't enough to tell you that there's likely a whole lot of wrong going on in my head at any given moment then I just don't know what will. But like I said...I'm the best at a whole lot of bad things. And you've never seen anyone that can fail quite as spectacularly as me and still come out on top.

I did a lot of thinking last night, a lot of thinking.

It just that what I was thinking didn't make a whole lot of sense most of the time.

So did I walk nine miles last night?

No.

No I didn't.

I walked ten...

Nine

To say this week has been all over the place would be a colossal understatement.

To say nothing has gone as planned would be the same.

So now I'm sitting here just sort of thinking and an idea just bounced off me.

I'm not actually going to explain it, but between now and tomorrow morning I'm going to walk nine miles.

It's symbolic of something, but it's also just something I feel like doing.

So I'm going to eat some peanut butter pretzels, watch a few movies, read some comics, and just walk it all off.

Just walk, and walk, and walk.

Nine miles.

The Inanity of Hope

I'm a bit disappointed.

Not sure if I'm disappointed in myself, or the world, or other people.

Maybe I'm disappointed that sometimes I even manage to ruin the simple good stuff, the little good stuff. The stuff that most people don't even notice but that I thrive on. That stuff is supposed to be foolproof, but I reckon I'm just about the biggest fool there is most of the time.

It's not a big deal, and not in the way that nothing is much of a big deal nowadays but in the way that this wouldn't have been a big deal ever. So I'm not really worried about it...I'm just a bit disappointed.

And for a man who is very rarely disappointed because he expects so very little from life and often gets so very much this should be a really bad thing.

But it's not...go figure.

Snakes & Ladders, The Phalanx, A Stenographer's Ennui

Snakes & Ladders

Entirely too many of my dreams lately have involved ladders. I don't like ladders. They aren't built for fat people. It's not that I can't climb a ladder, it's that persistent fear that the ladder won't hold me, but that it won't realize this until I'm almost all the way up.

When I worked for the carnival we used to have to climb up these three story high ladders to pull stuffed animals from the different platforms in the warehouse. I was pretty good at it, but getting off and on the ladder at the top always freaked me out. That's sort of the feeling I have in these dreams the entire time.

The other night I found myself in some sort of gigantic boarding house. There were hundred of people there, but I seemed to know most of them. It was nighttime, and there were occasional flashes of lightning even though there wasn't any rain. It was humid out though. And everyone was awfully sweaty. There were few staircases in this boarding house, and those that there were could be difficult to move on because of the great number of people. So those of us who were in a rush stuck to the roofs and ladders.

When the small group I found myself moving with reached a room near the top of one of the towers we found ourselves in the middle of a meeting of sorts. I was surprised to find that the topic of the meeting was sending people to throw my friend and I out of the house. The people I was with didn't realize I was one of the ones they were talking about so I was able to sit and listen without being bothered. As soon as I'd heard enough slipped out one of the windows, ran across the roof and climbed down one of the ladders into a locker room of sorts. I was desperately searching for my friends (another frequent theme as of late, either I'm separated for my friends and I have to find them, or we're missing one of my friends and the whole group is looking for them).

I get in an argument with several construction workers building a new stairway, but manage to fight past them and leap off the unfinished stairs down to the next level. But I'm too late, my friends are all by the door with their bags packed. They've already been thrown out.

We find ourselves standing on the edge of a great lake. Nowhere to go, nowhere to stay. And we know we're in trouble because these giant worms (Snakes & Ladders just sounded like a better title...) are coming out of this cave near the waters edge. Now I know what you're thinking, but don't get all Freudian on me. The giant man-eating worms were just giant man-eating worms and the cave was just a cave. Although the worms did sort of look like giant penises, and the cave may have had pubes. I don't recall. Anyway, so these giant man-eating penis looking worms are about to attack us and we're trying to fight them off with rocks and broken beer bottles when one of the worms gets too close to the water and is sucked into a drainage pipe where it screams horribly as the water causes it to shrink into a normal size not-man-eating still sort of penisy looking worm. The rest of the dream involves us recruiting the people living in the boarding house to fight off the wormy things by driving them off into the water so that we can all live peacefully ever after.

Yes folks, I have issues. Tell me something I don't know.

The Phalanx

It's pretty simple. I know the whole world isn't out to get me...just a very small very determined segment of it is. Like always I put up a hell of a fight. Some shit is happening though that I don't know if I can beat. In fact as I write this I'm suddenly overcome with that feeling you get when something dreadful has happened. But I can't quite figure out what that dreadful thing can be. Sort of hope it's not something that's going to happen. Maybe this is the feeling you get when you've just narrowly dodged a bullet. I don't know. I'm wondering if this is just my Spidey sense tingling.

Who knows.

I do however have an idea on how to handle this one. Like I said, it's pretty simple.

Lock shields.

Ready spears.

Advance.

A Stenographer's Ennui

So I was rolling along on this story I'm writing and then I sort of hit a stumbling block. No surprise there, it always happens, on the stories worth telling I get over it. I seriously think this is one of those stories.

But I'm sort of not feeling the way I've been working on it. I laid out a great deal of the ideas beforehand and now I'm sort of feeling like I'm just filling in the blanks or taking dictation from some voice I created when I drew up the outline. So I need to bust that up a little to get around that. It shouldn't be that big of a deal.

There's another problem. I'm writing a story with characters who are loosely based on people I know. It's easy for me to care about the characters because I care so much about the people they started out being losely based on. But that doesn't mean anyone reading the story would feel the same way. I have to create a reason for people to care about the characters within the story. The best way to do that in this story is to make the main character care about the other characters. Problem is I can't seem to make anyone care about the main character. Simply because I don't care about the main character. I can't relate to this guy. He's sharp, good-looking, even though his plan is totally fucked he's got a plan. He's the guy who gets the girl at the end of the story. How the hell am I supposed to relate to that? I never get the girl. How do I write a realistic character that people will care about if I can't relate to the guy enough that I can care about him? Frig.

Gotta get that square.

The guy has to get the girl in the end. It's the only way people give a shit.

sassafras

Hung out with The Rookie and Little Sister tonight. Ended up watching Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist. It was actually pretty damn good. Earlier while getting some work done in the office I watched Yes Man and that was surprisingly not bad.

Don't really know where the hell this weekend went or how it went so quickly. I really didn't do a whole lot, but what I did was nice and I did get a good bit of rest. So it's all good.

Now I'm going to crash for a bit and then try and get some treadmill time in.

Uhhhh... and that's pretty much it for now.

It Must Be Nice Being People

Yesterday was fun. I had a good time. I was hanging out with some of my favorite people in the world, which is just about always a good sign for a good night. I mean it can't hurt that I was lining up shots three deep and not slowing down long enough to think about it in between them., but I'm pretty sure it was mostly the people.

We drank too much, laughed just enough, and when I found myself sitting at my desk in my office just a little before three in the morning I was actually fairly content with the way the day had went. It was a good time in the shadow a brewing storm.

It's funny the things that can remind you of certain things. Funny how simple jokes remind you of who you are, what you've done, and exactly where you belong. Funny how a familiar face can remind you where you come from, or a story you haven't told in a long time can remind you of where you're going to end up. Maybe funny's not the right word again.

Maybe I just don't know what the right word is anymore.

I've got $23 in my pocket. I haven't had a shave in three days. I haven't gone out on my own and gotten my head clear in over three weeks (although I reckon I've lost track altogether at this point) and if I spent anymore time in this goddamn desk chair this week my ass might grow permanently attached to it.

I'm still trying to figure out what's going on in my world right now. Still trying to make sure that the things I'm basing my moves on are real, and not altogether imaginary. I can smell something rotten coming up though, it's like I can feel the burn but can't yet see the fire. The thing that upsets me just a little is that I've felt like this before, and though I wasn't always right, most of the time I was. You just batten down the hatches and hope it's not that bad of a storm.

It's all you can do sometimes.

Whole rest of the world seems like it's falling apart too, some people might take that as a comfort, might say "At least it's not just me." But I find it hard to feel anything but sad for my friends and family who find themselves in tough spots. Feel even worse when I know that there's just about nothing anyone can do to help them. Too much shit in this world, but I suppose there always has been. It all sorts out in the end. Don't know how or why, but I know it all sorts out in the end.

I've been writing a little less here over the past couple of days. Been thinking less I suppose. Not because I'm trying to, just because I've been given an opportunity to mellow and I reckon I should take it. Opportunity doesn't always knock twice. I'm also trying to write a story for a screenplay with the help of a friend. It's the first thing I've done that even vaguely resembles a collaboration that I've done since college and who the hell knows if I'm even going to end up finishing it, but I'm certainly trying.

Lots of nothing going on I suppose, nothing all that big coming up on the horizon. Maybe I ought to plan something. Maybe I should start something new. Maybe I should just wait and see.

I don't know.

I just don't know what's next.

Truth, Justice, and The Palomba Way

I'm going to have to go out on a limb and sort of admit to having no clue what the hell I'm doing next.

I really don't know what I've done to get where I am, I just sort of hope I can keep on doing it. I tried to go back and sort out what the hell happened but I can't. These blogs of mine have followed a fairly certain course over their lifetime, but it's not a through line that makes very much sense. I just don't know.

I can say with a fair bit of certainty that one constant is that I repeatedly find myself lucky enough to be associated with special groups of people. That I find myself lucky enough to be surrounded by an interesting family. That I find myself constantly put in situations which I am invested enough in that I rarely have any other choice but to stick around until their conclusion.

It's really something else.

And of course there is the shit. The shit I go through. The shit I watch so many people I care so much about go through. And the truth is that no matter how horrible it often is that shit can be sort of funny too.

It's funny because it doesn't seem like anyone has any idea that we're all going through one version or another of the exact same shit...and no matter how close we all are we have to constantly deal with standing out there on our own and saying, "I'm still here...and I can still take it."

Hell, maybe funny's not the right word...maybe it's just sad.

Fatigue

I'm old, and I'm tired, and I don't know how much more of this shit I can take...but we're sure as fuck going to find out, now ain't we?

reform retcon rehearse

Friday night was fun...or just fucking funny, I'm not sure which.

I didn't get stabbed in the eye with a knife. So, you know, all good there.

When I got home Friday night (early Saturday morning really) I finished watching Oliver Stone's "W." It was pretty good. Not nearly great. But pretty good.

Saturday I worked, then sat around on my ass for a bit and watched Guy Ritchie's "Rocknrolla" while eating shit I shouldn't be eating. Rocknrolla was pretty good. Not as sharp or witty as "Lock, Stock & Two Smoking Barrels" or even "Snatch" but it gave me a lot of hope for his Sherlock Holmes movie. When I finally got some sleep early Saturday evening it was fitful and filled with what I would have thought were fever dreams except for the fact that I didn't have a fever. I woke up at about nine and decided I needed to go grocery shopping so I picked up Little Sister and ran over to A&P for a bit. Then I stayed up most of the night watching "Ong Bak - Thai Warrior". It wasn't bad.

Sunday I hung out with the kids for a bit in the afternoon. Then Sunday evening I went to see Adventureland with some of the Antioch people. There were seven of us for the movie last night, which is an increase over last week's five, so that was good. There are quite a few people who haven't been around in a bit for one reason or another and we need to get everbody back in for a bit. The movie was pretty good, again not great, but pretty good. It did evoke that certain 80's nostalgia and there were a few scenes that reminded me of my brief stint as a Carnie truck driver back around the turn of the century.

It was a pretty good weekend I suppose.

I reckon I pissed off more than my fair share of people this weekend, and it's just about always the people I want to piss of the least that I piss off the most somehow. Feel sort of bad about that. Not a whole hell of a lot I can do about it though. Not anymore.

I also ran into enough problems this weekend that I got a pretty good idea about how I'll be dealing with things from now on. I got a little bit off the rail on Saturday, but I was able to right the ship fairly quickly and completely on my own. Good for me.

So what's next?

No clue. Looking for a project, something to do with my time, you know? Looking to get some writing done besides this for once, because it's just been entirely too long. Trying to stay out of trouble, which will likely mean staying out of certain places with certain people. Trying to get my shit straight so I dont' die anytime soon. Trying to get my head around the fact that I've been up for four straight months...and I'm not going back down, not anytime soon.

Fuck Off Warren...

I think I likely would have been better off staying home last night, tidying up a bit, and then calling it an early night. It had been a long goddamn week and I needed the rest. Course I don't have that little bit of sense so I ended up staying out till 2 A.M. and then watching an entire Oliver Stone movie before turning around and heading back to the office roughly 9 hours after I left it in the first place. I did get a bit of cleaning done, and a whole lot of laughing, and the watching of the movie, and hanging out with The Rookie and little sister for a minute. So for 9 hours that's not all that bad.

Now here's the trick. I'll be here for another hour or so. And then I don't really have to be back except to get a bit of shit done at some point between now and tomorrow morning. Which means I've got to find something to do for the whole rest of the day...wish me luck.

As soon as I break out of here I'm going to try and catch an hour or two of shut-eye and then it's up and at 'em while I try to stretch whatever I can out of what could end up being a fairly decent day.

The Holy Foreskin & Other Shit I Probably Couldn't Make Up If I Tried...

So a month or two back I was watching Marcia Gay Harden on the Martha Stewart Show (I'll give you a second to process that) and I had a brief flash of meeting her and telling her how much I liked her in every movie but The Hoax, where I was just sort of perplexed by her accent. And then I thought "Of course I wouldn't say that, because then I'd have to explain how I actually liked The Hoax, I just didn't like her in it, and that would be rude." Then I thought, "Where the fuck did that come from?"

So a little while goes by and I'm in New York with some friends and I find myself crammed into the front seat of taxi cab sitting at a red light next to a towncar limousine. Sitting in the back chatting on her cellphone? Marcia Gay Harden. The imaginary conversation briefly flashed through my mind and I chuckled.

Such a stupid coincidence. Almost felt silly wasting one on it.

So today I'm walking into this deli, and there's this teenage couple walking outside. Good looking kids, but still I catch the guy briefly checking out this older blonde woman walking the other way. Before I even get into the store I see an older man eyeing this woman and a girl who looks like it could be her daughter. Spring is here. I'm amused. So I'm standing in this deli and this woman is making my sandwich and I briefly get this flash of a young woman walking in and me checking her out...and being caught by the lady behind the counter who turns out to be her mother. I'm chuckling to myself. These silly little things I think of. And all of a sudden this cute blonde girl walks into the deli. I don't check her out. Instead I look at the rye bread on the counter. When I look up I realize the woman behind the counter is looking right at me, she turns to look at the cute girl who just walked in. The girl says, "Hi mom." If I had checked her out her mom totally would have caught me. I chuckle again.

Not the same kind of coincidence...but close enough.

So tonight I'm sitting here writing, trying to get this story off the ground and it's just not flying. Just not going anywhere. I do this thing I sometimes do, I find a movie that sort of seems like it might be the same type of story I'm writing. And I watch it while I try to get started. Reckon maybe I can steal something small from it just to get me started, just to get past the writer's blockage. Shady, I know. But sometimes it works.

So tonight I'm watching Choke. I'm trying to write a story that's got a little bit of me in it. A story about a fucked up guy trying to figure out what the fuck he's doing with his life. Choke is about a fucked up guy. Lot of it was filmed in Jersey, hell scenes of it were filmed in Titillations for Christ's sake.

Figured something in there could get me going. So I'm liking the movie, but no sparks. I'm still blocked. So I start to do this other thing I do sometimes. I rewrite a conversation I've already had, and just sort of turn it into something. So tonight I went back to a silly little conversation I had on the way into New York to go to the MET a few weeks back. Same day as that silly Marcia Gay Harden story from a few paragraphs back. So I'm telling the people I'm with we've got to check out these crosses I saw last time I was at the MET. They supposedly contain pieces of wood from the crucifix that Jesus died on. I found this funny. But I maintained that there was zero chance they were real. I made a brief argument about the provenance of medieval relics and finished up my bit by briefly retelling the story of the foreskin of Jesus Christ. Got that? Leftovers from Jesus Christ's cock. Just so we're on the same page here. The fictionalized version of the conversation didn't turn out any better than the real one did. I was still stumped. But just as I finished writing the conversation two characters in Choke started to have a conversation...about the Holy Foreskin.

Shit. I love April. Always strange.

Before I lock up shop and head home for the night (movie just ended, finished working an hour ago) let me recount this really odd dream I had last night. I dreamed that I went to the movies with a bunch of the kids from church and a few friends of mine. Except when we got to the movie it wasn't a regular movie theater. The screen was outdoors and easily the size of a skyscraper. There were stages in front of it with sets and actors and all sorts of props. There were seats everywhere, and the stands were so high you had to take an elevator up to a tram over to a ladder that climbed up towards a rope. And if you couldn't find a seat by then you had to climb the rest of the way up using seatbacks as footholds which wasn't as difficult as it sounded because at this point the seats were tipped at such an angle you that the seatbacks were practically horizontal to the ground.

Some of the othere were in a tram, but there wasn't anymore room for me, so I told them I'd catch the next car. Before I could though I found the crowd pushing me into a tram going the opposite direction, down towards the stage. En route I realize that these are all actors, I shouldn't be in this tram, but it's too late. Now I find myself in this maze of hallways under the stage and I'm rushing around trying to find an elevator that will take me out. But I can't. I can't even find a stairway. I keep opening doors but they all lead to nowhere. Finally I stumble out a hallway and right onto the ramp to one of the stages. I can see the giant screen not fifty feet away and it's impressive. I also see the first set of bleachers just off to my left. I know I can get to an elevator back to the trams from there, but I can't get to them without going out onto the stage. There are security guards with guns. Apparently this show is a big deal. I decide to risk it anyway. I get caught...by an actor...with a spear. I briefly tell him my problem, he starts to tell me about a secret elevator for staff only that I could use to get all the way up to the top of the ladder. He's giving me directions when his bit comes up. He tells me to hold on and turns and attacks a giant green metal dragon with his spear. The green metal dragon sets him on fire. He screams and flails hopelessly as he's dragged off stage and three stagehands set upon him with fire extinguishers. As he's put out he tells me, "Third hall on the right, then first hall on the left, seventy sixth doorway down is the elevator. Password is..." and the fire flares up and the stagehands smother him once again.

I'm on my way. Seventy five doorways later I've found the elevator, but don't have the password. Security guards are coming down the hall. I panic and throw myself against the elevator doors...and break right through. The elevator is tiny, I barely fit in it. The floor is made of glass and seems ready to crack. I quickly press the only button in the elevator and I suddenly find myself high above the stages trying to find something to hold on to less I fall to my death. Sure enough the elevator takes me high above the ladder...and high above any landing. My only choice is to jump across the gap and grab the rope and I hope I can swing through a window into the enclosed stands. There are people hundred of feet below me on a platform screaming at me not to try it. Security guards scurrying across seatbacks trying to get to me before I can jump. I have to find my friends though, the feature film is about to start. I leap and grab hold of the rope, but I don't have a good grip and the rope burns my hands as I slide down. I manage to get the rope to swing just enough that I think I can reach the stands, but I miss the window and paw frantically at the smooth metal walls of the stands trying to find purchase so I don't fall to my death. I finally find a ledge and slowly work my way across it until I can drop onto a staircase where hotdog and popcorn vendors take up most of the steps. People wait on the next landing till I'm clear. A few people clap or pat my on the back. I still can't find my friends.

I'm climbing over seat backs, chatting with people as I go. I reach the very top of the stands, where the tower is only wide enough to hold a single seat. And still no sign of my friends. Someone tells me they saw them one tower over and a few levels down. I begin to climb down to the covered walkway connecting the two towers. Suddenly security sees me, they know I broke the elevator. I have to jump out another window, this time landing on the top of the covered walkway. I can't reach another window...I'm trapped. I can see my friends taking their seats, yelling for me to join them. I can see security debating whether to come after me, screaming at me to come back. I'm trapped. I'm stuck. And suddenly everything goes dark. I'm alone on this roof thousands of feet above the ground, nowhere to go, nothing to do. And it's quiet. And it's dark.

The movie starts.

Of April's Merry Fool

I've gotten careless in my old age. Today I almost made a mistake you would expect of an amateur. I caught myself in time. I used to say "No harm, no foul". But nowadays I'm not so sure.

I've resolved the dangerous parts of several situations, and there are of course several more that will most likely need my attention before too long. I'm stringing a few things along for a bit while I try to make up my mind as well. Nothing serious of course, I don't play games when it comes to the serious stuff. But minor little things that making a final decision on would probably cause more trouble than I need to cause right now...those can wait.

So at the end of the day most of what I've done and said balances out. It's pointless to argue that right now. On a regular basis I have zero impact on the world and the people around me. I'm beautifully irrelevant. It's not so bad when you consider that most people have a negative impact on the world around them just about everyday. I like to think that on the rare occassion I do something meaningful that it's something that works out for the better. Something that, even if it doesn't help, doesn't hurt. I'm not so foolish that I don't realize the fact that I tend to hurt people when I try too hard. But I think I'm at about even overall. And I really couldn't ask for much more right this second.

I could probably be a little more productive at work. There's been a lot of little stuff that needs my attention lately, time consuming stuff, but not really important stuff. I find myself spending a lot of time on stuff I could probably put off till later or not do at all. Part of it is I'm just trying to get things right, part of it is I just don't give a shit somedays. I always care about what I do, how much effort I put into it, and the overall well being of my company, my employees, and my customers. But how much enthusiasm can you work up filling out the 500th unemployment form of the year? Or bonding the 86th contract? Or filling out the same goddamn housing form because some dipshit couldn't remember to save their pay stubs and some underpaid overworked social worker keeps losing the paperwork you already sent in eight times? Do you have any idea how many times a month we encounter child support issues? How much time I waste talking to various departments and offices and divisions about some deadbeat dad who doesn't look after his six kids by four mothers and just so happens to work for me? I don't have any kids. I'm not fucking anybody. But I'm going to suffer by having to fill out form after form and spend hours a month on the phone because somebody else fucked and ran. Or how about how much time I spend trying to find lost cell phones and backpacks and IPods and trapper keepers (or whatever the hell they call them nowadays)? You haven't lived until you've spent fifteen minutes in the middle of the night crawling around the floor of a ten year old school bus with a maglite searching for little Suzy's Rumor2 or little Avraham's Tefilin (which by the way cost a frakkin' mint from what I understand) because even though they were foolish enough to leave it on the bus they absolutely can't live without it and need it back right now. If it wasn't for the fact that I make an obscene amount of money and enjoy like 75% of what I do this is the point where I'd be going, "WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE?"

I'd probably be screaming that very loudly. Over and over again.

I mean seriously here folks. I'm 28 years old. I'm about the fattest ugliest piece of shit you'll ever see in your entire life. For the majority of my life I've been so mentally unbalanced that my biggest problem wasn't the voices I heard in my head, it was the fact that they spent so much time talking to each other instead of me that I was getting sort of jealous. If I hadn't repeatedly spent every penny I've ever had on whiskey, women, and comic books I'd be a goddamn millionaire by now. I can't keep my house clean, I don't take very good care of my dog, I can't handle relationships, and I don't spend half as much time as I'd like to with my friends and family. And somehow I still think I'm doing pretty goddamn good...

So either I've got about the lowest godddamn set of standards you could ever imagine, or I'm just sort of ok with taking life at my own pace. I mean, life takes time...so I guess it's good we don't have anything better to do.

I'm getting there folks. Really I am. And I know I keep saying that but nobody but me really has any idea how far I've come or how far I've got left to go. April is always a good month for conflicted feelings and emotions and it's always a very interesting month for me...

(Sample quotes from the last several Aprils:

- April 5th, 2008 - My Heart Is Beating Like A Fucked Clock: If I had a pistol, not twenty minutes ago, I would have stuck it in my fucking mouth and blown the back of my head all over creation. The fact that I am writing this now is a testament to two things. One the resounding lack of a pistol. And two the better judgement of my dominant self overruling the whims of my other parts.

- April 17th, 2007- Let Me Clear My Throat... Pick up Jere to take him to car dealer ship in Wayne. Cars blocked in by three other cars. Going nowhere. "When did they tell you to pick it up?" "They didn't." "When did you tell them you were coming?" "I didn't." "Fucking great." Driving to Vernon at 4 A.M. Drop Jere off at 4:50, secretly wish that he gets raped by a bear with AIDS.

-April 24th, 2006- Those People That Come And Go: And I wonder if I'm done meeting new people, and if I was have I met enough to have my fill? And the thought frightens the living shit out of me. I ain't been but 45 minutes away from whereever I start in damn near a year, and though there's plenty of adventure to be had 45 minutes from anywhere in North Jersey I'm beginning to wonder if there's enough.

-April 1st, 2005- Burn Baby Burn: I just can't win. Well maybe I could, but I'd probably have to cheat. April's Merry Fool: If October was for being Lonesome, then April will have to settle for being Weird. It starts today.

-April 29th, 2004- Flying Free On Steel Wings... I'm flying free on steel wings while falling from the sun with designs on opportunity. What if Icarus had pulled up? Not gone quite so close to the sun? What if the little fucker had decided to leave well enough alone? Well then no one would have known who he was. )

You see what I mean? April can get real interesting in my head. Funny thing is that this time I'm sort of looking forward to it.

So wish me luck...if I've got anything to say about it it's going to be one hell of a month.

By The Way

I was going to make a crappy erection joke here...but you could have probably figured out for yourselves where I was going with that one.

Needless to say I'm a geek.

Vicious...

Remember that bit about me trying to get out of here early last night and still ending up in the office till nearly 10 P.M.? Or how even leaving at that time I still got out earlier than I had the previous five days? Well guess what? I'm sitting at my desk right now. Why? Because God has a sense of fucking humor that's why.

I'm going home...again.