Happy Valentine's Day...
To me, especially. What better gift could a nerd like myself ask for than news that George Lucas is finally working on a new Star Wars movie and series. Love is in the air...

Perhaps I should be appreciative....
But god I hate work. Its not that I dont like doing things, or being productive- I just hate having to come to work. Why cant I just lie on a beach somewhere? Why cant I wake up when i want? Why cant I stay home and clean up when I want? Ugh...

Nora Roberts...
Ain't exactly taking up much space on my bookshelves, but I still would join her literary mob and burn pinche ladron, Cassie Edwards, at the stake- metaphorically. If the courts rule that her actions are anything less than blatant plagiarism, then I may reconsider a career in writing. This excerpt was all I needed to read:

Roberts wrote in "Savage Longings"(which I found offensively titled, but thats another story):

"The women who belonged to this society created ceremonial decorations by sewing quills on robes, lodge coverings, and other things made of the skins of animals. Snow Deer had told Charles that the Cheyenne women considered this work of high importance, and when properly performed, it was quite as much respected as were bravery and success in war among the men."

Edwards wrote in "Cheyenne Indians"(also poor taste):

"Of the women's associations referred to the most important one was that devoted to the ceremonial decoration, by sewing on quills, of robes, lodge coverings, and other things made of the skins of animals. This work women considered of high importance, and, when properly performed, quite as creditable as were bravery and success in war among the men."

Really, Cassie?
You didn't steal, but only got "influence" from Roberts' novel? As a novelist, I know that the talent stems from the creativity, so to rob her of not only that, but of her method as well, burns me up. Shame on you, Cassie Edwards. I hope you get paper cut...

Hey, Glenn Beck...
Shut up.

I like to think everyone needs a friend like me...
Lacking pride as much as realism allows, I'd say that they may even need a friend like me. No, I'm not the coolest(arguably), best looking, funniest, smartest, or even the most talented. I may not make the most money, have the coolest job, drive the coolest car, or even be the most generous, but I am sincere, and will tell you what to hear even when its not easy. I had to tell him, as a man and a friend, that the way he sniffed around K.S. all night last night was hard to watch. Maybe without the filter of inebriation, my perspective was off, but it sure seemed like he hung his testicles on the key holder and chased attention all night like a five year old girl. I hope, like I expect most people do, that will always have at least one friend to be whatever I am. Sometimes, being a friend ain't easy...

I've never been keen to New Year's resolutions...
But resolve itself can be a virtue. With what's allowed left, I resolve to do a great deal more, especially involving writing. "If it was written once, it was thought twice." Does that mean I haven't had a genuine thought-one worthy of repetition- since the twenty first of October? Scarier than Scary Kids Scaring Kids watching Scary Movie...

I used to think changing the world was an impossible task, but today was a good day, which cleared my minds pores. All you really need to do is cause a thought. If everyone thought just a little differently, the world would be a much different place...

Days...
Are categorized by signature events that occur during. Whatever the largest event of that day is, sets the tone for its memory, regardless of the other lesser events that precede or follow. For example: Today for me started out wonderfully. I woke up in a good mood, had plenty of relax time before going to work, and the weather was perfect. During some point in the past few hours, however, the tide has changed. My day just got real shitty real fast. I hope something big comes along later to wipe away the dominance of recent events. Its getting late, so hurry...

I got to work....
today and had sixty nine voice mail messages. (he he...)

A word on problems...
Problems will come- it's certain- but don't delay finding a solution by getting caught up in the blame game. Take the picture above for example: who's at fault? The dog, for peeing on the laptop? The laptop, for being in the wrong place at the wrong time? The photographer, for standing idle on the sidelines? The owner for not taking good enough care of his pet? None of that matters, because a solution has nothing to do with whos at fault. The solution- moving the dog or the laptop- would save a laptop from being destroyed by urine(which has already damaged so many relationships), a friendship from being damaged by anger, a pet owner and electronics lover from pulling out his hair, and a puppy from suffering the embarrassment of being scolded for having an accident. Let that be a lesson to you.

Common Sense....
From the city of wind. ...Bush pushing lies; killers immortalized; we got arms but wont reach for the skies. Waiting for the Lord to rise, I look into my daughters eyes and realize I'ma learn through her. The messiah might even return through her. If I'ma do it, I gotta save the world for her...

I'm supposed to be working right now. I got mad work to do, but stuff on my mind too. I just had a pretty good conversation with my mother too, about life, love, sex, God, happiness(or the pursuit of), and happenings. If youre reading this and havent talked to your mother today, maybe you should. Yesterday, just past noon, Janice Jeffery, known as JJ to those who loved her, passed away. Its crazy. I mean, we knew it was coming(I guess we all know Death is coming for us all), but its still such a shock to lose someone close to you. When was the last time I saw her? It wasn't too long ago at all, probably just over a week. I knew she was dying, and I know I kissed her as always, but I never suspected it would be the last time. Just as before, I said my goodbyes as usual, and now I regret it. I normally am always subconsciously aware of impending doom(not in a paranoid way, just in a "were all gonna die" thing), but had I realized the significance of that moment; that it was going to be the last time we talked, embraced, said goodbye, or that it was my last opportunity to make her laugh, or smile, then maybe I would have chosen my words more carefully. If I had known then what I know now, I would have chosen my words more carefully. But I guess thats just the way it is. We never know, and there are no re-dos. I called my mama today. I didn't tell her I loved her, but we talked a good talk, and she knows. Im leaving now, but the sting of sudden loss will linger for a while, making me wonder which of these conversations will be my or their last. Will you wonder, at least once? Rest in Peace, JJ. I love you, mama...

Im a sucker for nostalgia...
I cant help it. Anything pleasurable from my youth seems to have stuck with me all these years. Its like that movie, Vanilla Sky. His Lucid Dream consisted of an array of powerful impressions from his life- A sad movie; a romantic album cover; an emotional painting. My living dream act the same way, connecting all things enjoyable subconsciously to my youthful memories. Hmm, makes the pressures of this non-existent, potential fatherhood I face increase exponentially. But in the meantime, and in between time I search for myself the same way we all do: by returning to the source- attempting to recapture a youth lost so long ago. And if we succeed? I guess Ill let you know when I arrive...

Questions...
Why do we still have cops on horses? Do criminals still ride horses, robbing stage coaches and such? Why did it take three days to get water to the Superdome? Why did the people roll over in the 04 presidential election? Why does the Kool-Aid Man bust through walls? Why is Mario allowed to take shrooms, go on a killing spree, then be lauded as a hero? Why is it so hot outside? Why do you need ID to get ID? If you had ID you wouldnt need ID. Why didnt the president know what the Voting Rights Act was? Why is it ok to impeach Clinton for lying about head, but not ok to impeach Bush over lying about Iraq? Why are gas prices so damn high? Why cant someone make a healthy cigarette? Why is sex only right when your married, when everybody knows married couples usually have crappy sex lives? Why is marijuana illegal, but cigarettes and liquor arent? Why arent more people upset about the Real ID Act? What was Jesus' real name, and why do people call him Jesus? What makes blue eyes better than brown eyes? Why are modern cars made of plastic, but cost more than their metal predecessors? Who reads this anyway? Why do people run so many red lights? Why is insurance mandatory, but so expensive and non tax deductable? Is that how you spell "deductible"? Why has so much crazy stuff been happening to me lately? Why do I waste my time and words here? Will black people ever receive reparations for slavery? Am I going to work out today? Am I going to hell? Why dont more Americans kiss when they greet? How much truth is behind all those 9/11 conspiracies? Why didnt the police ever find Tupac or Biggies killers? Were the killers trained professionals, or did they just not look too hard? Why do so many people still act like racism is no big deal? Will I ever marry? What do you wanna be when you grow up? How high would the basketball goals be on the moon, since everyone could dunk?

There is a song...
Stuck in my head. It goes...
I get down for my grandfather who took my mama/ made her sit in that seat when white folks didnt want us to eat./ At the tender age of six she was arrested for the sit in/ and with that in my blood I was born to be different./ Now, niggas cant make it to balance to choose leadership/ but we can make it to Jacobs and to the dealership./ Thats why I hear new music and I just dont be feeling it./ Racism still alive, they just be concealing it. / But I know, you dont want me in the damn club./ They even made me show ID to get inside of Sams Club./ I done did dirt then went to church to have my hands scrubbed:/ Swear Ive been baptized at least three or four times. / But in the land where niggas pray, shoot guns, and get paid,/ its gonna take a lot more than coupons to get us saved. / Like it take a lot more than do rags to get ya waves./ Now as sad as that day, my girl father passed away/ so I promised him Mr. Ramey, Im gonna marry ya daughter/and you know I gotta thank you for the way that she was brought up./ And I know I felt you smiling when you seen the car I bought her./ Then you sent tears from heaven when you seen my car get balled up, but/ I cant complain bout what an accident did to my left eye,/ cuz look what an accident did to Left Eye./ First Aaliyah, now Romeo must die?/ I know I got angels watching me from the other side...

Zimbabwe Funerals...

He lived his days of poverty
Inside a cardboard shelter
Inadequate of cover he
Did either freeze or swelter
Remembered he when he was ten
He had a scrap yard shack
It wasn't much, enough, but then
He suffered an attack
Policemen came and routed him
Destroyed his meager home
His chance at life now very slim
Just rubbish dumps to comb
Death did fight with him and win
As he knew that it would
No one can pay to place him in
A coffin made of wood

-Chris Higginson

Allow me to whine....
I try not to, normally, but indulge me. I have an ear ache. There is nothing profound about this post. It is neither artsy, thought provoking, nor poetic. I have a pain in the side of my head that screams "Im the juggernaut, bitch!", then proceeds to ruin my life. It lives in me, now, bringing flood after flood of activity to normally docile nerve endings, until they are as ravaged as post-Katrina New Orleans, and more bombed out and depleted than Afghanistan. It is a demon, as vast as the ocean, but with an impenetrable depth: the epitome of abyss. I can see it, hear it, feel it. He is darkness. A massive, shapeless, dark aura looms at the edge of my very consciousness. He has no name or shape, but is full of malice and personality. When I try to rest, he rises up, doubling in size, and roars with the ferocity of an angry lion, as if not having my utmost attention would spell his demise. I can sense the pleasure when I spit and thrash and curse my existence. This is what he wants. He knows his time is limited: that more from ego than pain I will see his end, and in an effort to prolong life, wants public recognition before the goodbye. You win, demon, now go back to hell...

Its been a week...
But I finally saw Ron Mueck. I wanted to see him when I was in NYC last time, but it cost fifty friggin bucks. Down here in TX, it was only ten! If the tour passes through your city, be sure to pay it a visit. Its so much better in sculpture than picture.
Also, go outside. That is all...

Angel
By some homeless guy...

God made the Heavens and then he made the earth
God made the sun and moon and all of the stars to
God made the flowers, just for the little birds
God sent the sides for the Bible to be made into words

Then God made all of the people, him, me, her and them
And he knows about all the good and knows about all the bad
He tells the moon when to hide and when for the sun to shine
He knows whats in your hearts, just like whats on your mind

He see's all of the people, he lisons to all of the kids
He looked around I'm sure, one time felling kind of blue
And said to himself, its time to make an Angel
So thats when he desided and then made you

Change is inevitable....
Deal with it. Most change, for me, is welcome. My wires got crossed at some point because unlike most who fear it, I embrace the unknown(sometimes literally via hugging strangers). But today, seeing change in action has made me sad, which isnt necessarily a bad thing. I mean, I think Im one of those people so jaded by the mundane that I enjoy feeling something, anything, no matter what form it comes. Its the closest Ill ever get to Tickle Me Emo("I cut myself so I can feel"). When I feel anything, I act as a catalyst to amplify whatever the current mode is, in appreciation to that rare sensation. Now I feel sad, so what do I do? What else, but play my playlist of sad songs and wish for more rain. Joni Mitchell, Damien Rice, Corinne Bailey Rae, Andre 3000, Mary J. Blige, and even Biggie Smalls(suicidal thoughts)- sing to me. Now my despair is so abject, it bleeds into public(semi, anyway) view. I hate it, and I love it. Its time for a roadtrip. Suggestions?

Emotions....
Fuel creativity more than any controlled substance could dream. This is a public servant announcement to all writers, poets, philosophers(ghetto and other), and observers of life: Pain is not the only emotion. In the words of a resurrected Dr. Martin Luther King to a passionate, enlightened youth- "Do what you can." You gotta enjoy the simple pleasures of life, like calling into work, and when the traffic lights all turn green in succession. Remember when you were a kid, and saying cuss words in secret was enough to provide hours of entertainment? Why is it the older we get, the more desperate the means of obtaining a smile become, the way a fiend ups the dosage trying to relive that first high? Simplicity...

It was a dark and stormy night.....
Actually, a bright and sunny morning. The door slammed. A shot rang out. A woman screamed. The TV was left on. More importantly, the door slamming was the bathroom door. But the bathroom door was broken- impossible to open by twisting the handle from either side. Our hero was trapped inside the bathroom, with nothing but his wits about him. His flatmate was already gone to work, and wouldnt return until that night. No cell phone, no nothing, and no one could hear him scream. He was stuck, and the clock was ticking: he had to be at work soon. He worked vigorously for nearly an hour, trying desperately to get the door open to no avail. He was getting anxious. Not having access to a clock, he had no idea what time it was, but knew it was time to leave for work. Using keen acumen, he looked around for supplies. An empty soap dispenser, toilet tissue, and a picture was all he had to work with. "Nothing" he said to himself "except for the clothes on my back... Hmm". With a stroke of genius, he took out the string of his pajama pants. Carefully, he slid the string between the crack in the door, and used it like a credit card to slide the broken apparatus aside while pulling and thus opening the door. Brilliant! He escaped his pottyful prison and made it to work nearly on time. This was the adventure of my morning. True story. The End...

Paris Hilton....
May be a spoiled, rich white girl who for some symbolizes the racial, economic, and social divides in America, but I still feel bad for her. Prison sucks, no matter what.

How much.....
Is too much? Berries and cream, berries and cream. Im a little lad who loves berries and cream! No homo. -j

Quack....
Like a duck, walk like a duck, act like a duck, and you must be a duck. I think Im a jerk. I mean, three times in one week? Im starting to see a pattern here. Three different women have more or less called me a jerk this week. And here I am thinking Im a nice guy. Ok, two of them are or were interested in me and I guess you could say I did them wrong(in a way), but one has zero interest in me, so I would think that makes her more objective. The Two(thats what Ill call them) both imply I am wrong in leading them on- whatever that means. I wish, I wish I could get my hands on that mythical Dating Rulebook. I mean, what are the rules when your just "talking"? At one time, "just talking" was my favorite place to be in a relationship. My fear of commitment is just as healthy as the next mans, but I didnt think I was doing anything wrong. Its not like I was married and asked for divorce, or in a healthy relationship breaking it off for no reason: I purposely detached from situations that get too involved before Im ready. I mean, if you know your not dating someone, why do the rules of dating still apply? Doesnt seem fair to me. If you call someone daily, pretty soon its expected, and youre doing it more from obligation than desire. Ending the routine before it becomes habit seems sensible, but apparently peoples feelings will be hurt no matter what. I say "I meant to call you", but all they hear is "quack". I guess Im a jerk. And unfortunately, Im not even good at that, cuz I dont like other jerks. Which is why I drink alone tonight...again. No, Im not an alcoholic, Im a duck. Maybe Ill turn into a swan one day, but until then, I gotta cut em loose instead of letting whatever happens happen. If anyone ever gets a look at the Dating Rulebook, or knows "the rules"- look up the chapter on conversation frequency or quitting while your ahead, and let me know what it says. Until then: cheers, darlin. -j