Mad Thoughts

Loopy

So you know how I used to complain that I never “bumped” into anyone? “I never see anybody,” I used to wail whenever a friend told me about an encounter they had had with someone I used to know. It’s not like these interactions were happening at obscure back alley bars or anything like that; this was happening at your neighborhood CVS or public library and it seemed to be happening everywhere and to everyone, except for me.

Honestly, I was okay with it. Its not that I have made enemies or anything dramatic like that, but there is a mighty long list filled with people with whom a face to face encounter would create a situation so uncomfortable, so tangibly difficult, I would have to jump out of a window to save myself the pain of trying to make small talk.

Recently, however, I have begun to feel very much “on the grid” again. I was traceable. There were people who know me talking to people who no longer know me. I was found on myspace.com. My blog was found. I received phone calls. I was on the radar. The map. The grid. My name, for a very short time I am sure, flowed across the lips of gossip circles and information chains before (and rightfully so) being tossed off into the psychic ether, likely to be forgotten.

This freaked me out.

I suddenly became very self conscious sitting in my home. Even with the blinds drawn I felt very exposed. I felt like I needed to draw up justifications to decisions I made years ago for events and circumstances I hadn’t even thought of in years. I’ve never regretted any personal decision I’ve ever made, but I suddenly became very aware of how things can be perceived, especially if there are people out there telling lies. If I wasn’t thinking about the perception of my relationships, I was thinking about the perception of my professional life. This especially hurt because A) I am not where I want to be and B) I am not doing what I want to do. I’m not the very proud of the headway I have made in my career field and I was dreading having to answer the, “So… what do you do?”

All of this anxiety came to a head last week when I had a very peculiar dream. I was walking around a house party filled with faces from the past. As I entered the house to say hello to someone I heard them scream, “Asshole,” so loudly and with such anger and hatred in their voice it literally woke me up. I rarely ever dream let alone so vividly that it shakes me awake. This was the fourth time it has ever happened.

Ego messes with you doesn’t it? It makes you feel small for not accomplishing more with your life, while simultaneously making you feel big by making you believe that anyone could give a rat’s ass about you. I complain about being on the radar, and yet I’ve been writing a public blog for close to three years. My Libra duality aside, that’s pretty hypocritical.

Be Like Mike

Shannon and I went to bed at the same time last night. Its a rarity, and before you start whispering to yourselves about the nature of our relationship or worse yet our sex life, its a rarity simple because I’m usually watching TV or computing and Shannon’s batteries can only make it till 10:30PM. Its true. You can watch her eyelids shut as she falls asleep. She can’t help it. She’s like a kitten who can’t hold their head up they are so tired. It doesn’t stop being cute, either.

“Damn,” I said, lying on my back.
“Mmmmm?” she replies, curled facing away from me.
“Fucking Aaron Sorkin,” I said.
“Hmmmm?”
“He always inspires me.”
“Let me guess you want to be on a sketch comedy show now?”

Oh, the quick wit.

Its not a secret, or a well kept one, that part of the reason I am where I am today is because of Aaron Sorkin’s work on the West Wing. It was inspired and it inspired me. After watching the first episode of Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip last night, I must admit he has inspired me again.

Fucker.

Writing. WRITING! Its always been this… thing hanging over my head. Asking to be done. Asking to be exercised. And I don’t. Sure there’s the blog. Sure there’s my work writing (which has been abysmal). But there is a part of me that’s till wants to write a book. Or a comic. Or a short story. Movie. TV. Play.

I ignore the feelings. I ignore the urge or when it comes along I transfer it to blogging or reading or watching TV. I avoid it. I put it on the someday pile.

So watching Aaron Sorkin makes me want to write. Which is strange because its not like I could ever be as good or better than him. I could never be one-fifth of him. Its in the same realm of me watching an old Micheal Jordan game and suddenly wanting to become a basketball player. He has a voice. A style that is unmistakable, even amidst imitators. I guess I want a voice too.

Fuckin’ Sorkin.

So you’d think, with all the changes I have been through lately, I’d have a lot to say. got a job. Moved. Was separated from Shannon for close to two whole months. I haven’t had Taco Bell in weeks.

But look at my blog posts. I’ve barely posted anything. Its like I have nothing to say.

I do, however, have many things to say. I just keep getting stuck inside them. Its difficult to explain the transitions I’ve gone through this summer. Aside from falling for Shannon, I’ve never experienced something that felt so natural. Its as if something inside me was able to reach into the world, twist it, recreate it, change it to what I wanted it to be. It all happened at the right time. Under the right circumstances. With the right people.

So all in all, its pretty unexciting. Sorry.

Top of the Mornin’

I have to write something, so I am going to sit here until I do.

Should I be worried when a woman sits next to me on a bus and starts writing poetry about falling from grace and former glory?

Riding the bus, listening to my music, when a tall brunette in her late twenties wearing an earth tone sweater and tan pants sits next to me. She’s chipper. Not in an annoying way, but her movements are precise and sudden. Unlike me, sh doesn’t seem tired and sluggish. After sitting still for two minutes, she darts into her bag/briefcase/purse and pulls a scrap paper. It remind me of the ditto’s teachers assigned in school. Its a photocopy of a photocopy, black blotches nearly obscuring the text. She writes a phrase or two in pencil. Flips her hair and the paper over and starts another phrase. I barely caught a glimpse:

“FALL FROM GRACE”
His body slumped from the weight of former glory

By the time my part of the bus ride ends, she has written about seven lines of what I can only assume was a poem. I could never write poetry. I tried, I really did. Ask some of my ex-girlfriend’s, they were subjected to more than a few desperate attempts at poetry. I can’t read it either. Her morning inspiration is an anomaly to me. She raced to find paper and pencil and started to write something in public. A 6’4” stud muffin crowding her into an overweight, Latina teenager and when the urge to be creative bubbled up, she committed to it, and wrote something provoking, beautiful, awful, or very plain…that’s art to me.

So while I never understand “Fall from Grace”, I’ll respect it.

Mondays

Here’s a small look into how I think.

Imagine me, dressed in my work uniform, black hoodie, dishevled 10 AM hair, and a patchy, five o’clock shadow that took me a week to grow. I’m driving a van for work West on 16 Mile road, heading towards the construction that begins around Garfield Road.

“I want comics. I should see if Shannon will be up for getting comics. This construction sucks. I can’t imagine what traffic would look like if this was around Groesbeck. I bet that will be next years project. God, that’ll suck. Well, hopefully I won’t be here anymore. Jesus, what if I am? What if a year after graduating I’m still working grunt work? I wish I could have taken that internship. I wish my other internship hadn’t chewed me out for not taking it. I made the right decision right? I couldn’t pass up getting my degree. But now I feel like I am at square one. God, I don’t want this job anymore. Everyone BUT my loved ones said to go. What if I hated it? At least I’d be in a suit. Do I want to be a suit? Should I write? What kind of life am I leading? Poor Shannon… fallen in love with a schlub. What kind of life can I give to her? Construction sucks.”

This is the conversation that ended up ringing in my head for the rest of the day. It took a stack of comics and some pulse pounding baseball playoffs to boot it from my mind, but unfortunately, this is a common conversation I hold with myself.

This is the mind of someone desperately trying to avoid the life of his father. A life of wages barely over the minimum sliding from one uniform to another. This is the mind of someone so scared of the myth of genetic fate, he’ll lamppost himself for hours only to escape through diversion and entertainment. This is my mind, and its a pile of taffy: ticky sweet, but not moving anywhere.

Learning New Things

One of my favorite features in every issue of Esquire Magazine is “10 Things You Don’t Know About Women”. It’s a fun look into the minds of female up and comers as well as veterans.

I thought I would critique the 10 Things, as written by Judy Greer, a fine actress and Detroit native. I have abridged her statements into simple headings.


1. Vulgarity of Women: It’s Worse than Men!
- Untrue. Women have no idea the stuff men can think of. When was the last time a woman fantasized about being chained to a wall breasts while a midget goes down her? Don’t forget the three 6ft. tall WNBA players attaching car batteries to the nipples while a Scottish man smears shit on the adjacent wall while repeating the phrase, “Don’t spill the milk,” over and over. That is the vulgarity of man.

2. Toilet Seat: We’re over it.
- About time.

3. “We drink till you’re cute, too.”
- Then you puke all over us mid-makeout. Thanks.

4. Spooning: Hair + Heavy Arms + Snoring = Suck.
- I would have thought so. I’ve never understood the mass marketed idea of “falling asleep in each other’s arms,”. It’s extremely uncomfortable for both partners, and if you really want to prove love or passion, make them raisin toast the next day.

5. Boys Playing Guitar: Lame
- Well, yeah. Didn’t you ever see Animal House?

6. “You’re so smart,” = “You’re so adorable when you try to act smart.”
- Hey! What the fuck? Oh, Shannon’s ass is grass!

7. Sexy beats cute. Smart trumps sexy. Funny takes the pot.
- She is obviously a very intelligent woman.

8. Woman tune you out, too.
- To be expected of course, however, we can tell and usual stop talking. Women on the other hand, seem to keep on trucking, throwing something important in the middle just to stick it to us later.

9. Derek Jeter vs. Meg Ryan.
- Women dig sports and guys dig romantic comedies. Here’s a thought, watch the movies/sports that you BOTH like. In the meantime, we’ll stop bragging we made it ‘13 Going on 30’ if you stop rolling your eyes when it goes to overtime.

10. No fake orgasms. Well, a few.
- If you don’t feel like doing it, just blow us.

I’m no salesman

Decided not to go for a “political” job. It was a door to door thing for Clean Water Action. Four reasons why not:
1. 2:30 -10 pm, Monday thru Friday means Shannon or me would be on the bus all the time
2. Personal invasion is not my thing. Plus im a big dude, and if I’m knocking at your door, chances are, you wont answer it.
3. Would have to completely rework school schedule, and its too difficult to find classes in first place.
4. Lack the passion.

My professor thought waiting for something was a good idea, but he insisted that I need work experience before I graduate. I guess washing cars don’t count.

Ailing

My cousin Bobby told me last year, when I turned 26, that everything goes downhill when you turn 27. He told me that’s when he had to start, “taking it easy,” with booze. His metabolism slowed down. Things started to hurt.

As I zero in on 27 years of age (HOLY FUCKING SHIT I MIGHT AS WELL BE FUCKING THIRTY OR FUCKING DEAD OH MY GOD) I have tried to make note of things that have changed in my body. I quit smoking, which fudges my data, but I feel like i have to agree with Bobby.

I’m falling apart.

Dramatic? Yes. But I am now in day two of the worst sore throat in memory, and as Shannon will testify, I’m being a big baby about it. But that’s not my only aliment. There are the cracking knees, the graying hair, the speed of my nose hair growth, headaches, greater chance of hangover when I drink, and less frequent “for no particular reason” erections (a blessing in disguise).

I’m sure I have many, many years ahead of me and I have taken steps (baby, but still) to improve my health. It feels good though to be worrying about my age from a health perspective as opposed to a what-am-I-doing-with-my-life perspective.

Everyone in Logo’s

These are the preliminary designs for the t-shirts me and Shannon have talked about. Yes, the infamous “I (heart) Jason and Shannon” tee’s. Please leave comments and suggestions.



All of the black won’t be on the shirts either. Please leave your suggestions.

Boondocks

Okay, the ad in EW says that the Boondocks cartoon premieres tonight at 11pm. Yet, the guide on my cable box says Family Guy, the [adult swim] website says Family Guy, and I can’t find any website that says otherwise.

So I am freaked out. I’m so excited about this cartoon and I will be very disappointed if I don’t see it.

Jaime sent me a survey, so I figured I would blog my answers. Good fun.

1. When you look at yourself in the mirror, what’s the first thing you look
at? My hair.

2. How much cash do you have on you? 12 US Dollars.

3. Whats a word that rhymes with “TEST?” Breast! *snicker*

4. Favorite plant? Two-lip bush! *snicker, snicker*. Seriously, I like Tulips and trees.

5. Who is the 4th person on your missed call list on your cell phone?
Rudy. Sorry.

6. What is your main ring tone on your phone? The Mike Tyson’s Punch Out theme, midi stlye.

7. What shirt are you wearing? My Hulk tee.

8. Do you “label” yourself, could you? Geekcore.

9. Name brand of your shoes currently wearing? Convese All Stars. Thanks Ryan!

10. Bright or Dark Room? Dimly lit by a lamp and TV.

11. What do you think about the person who took this survey before you?
Jamie is all sorts of rock and Shannon and I don’t nearly bug her enough. Time to turn a leaf. That missed call list is going to get a lot bigger.

12. Ever “spilled the beans”? I’ve come close to shitting my pants.

13. What were you doing at midnight last night? Reading some of the Preacher Graphic Novels.

14. What did your last text message you received on your cell phone say?
Subject: Re: Cool.

15. Do you ever click on “Pop Ups” or Banners? Only on accident.

16. What’s a saying that you say a lot? “No doubt” or “Fuck you!”

17. Who told you they luved you last? Shannon.

18. Last furry thing you touched? Shannon, KIDDING, KIDDING…

19. How many hours a week do you work? 35.

20. How many rolls of film do you need to get developed? Nope. All digital baby.

21. Favorite age you have been so far? 16, 12, and my twenties are cool.

22. Your worst enemy? Y’all know who that is… that guy and apathy.

23. What is your current desktop picture? Phoenix!!!

24. What was the last thing you said to someone? “You are HOT! Damn.”

25. If you had to choose between a million bucks or to be able to change a
major regret? Dollar, dollar bills y’all.

Thanks Jaime!

Talking Shit

Amazon.com: Electronics: Sony CLIE PEG-NR70V Handheld
The link above is to a Palm I’m selling on Amazon. Buyer gets the palm unit, and the stylus. No other accesories, sorry! Buy it please! I need the flow soooo badly…

In other news, two weeks after spending a Saturday afternoon cleaning the apartment, and making all sorts of well wishes to never allow it to get to the horrendous condition it was in…the apartment is trashed. Between all the books Shannon is selling, our school stuff, the open DVD’s (no cable + VCR in game room = Non-stop cable viewing), empty cigarette boxes I never throw away, etc, etc, and etc…Forgive the expression, but it looks like a bomb went off.
What makes it weird is that Shannon and I both grew up in very clean houses. So it leads me to believe its a Libra thing. We are both naturally messy people. I generally get fed up with it before Shannon, going from room to room with a garbage bag, swearing I’ll never do it again…

Lotsa new neighbors in our building, the one next to us blares his television while watching sports and action flicks. I believe he is another newly divorced man in his first home after losing his own, and is acting out, revealing in his new freedom. I can’t imagine being divorced. Losing the home, the children, the money, the neighbors, the friends that took sides, the books, the CD’s, the movies… I just can’t imagine getting to that point with someone. Learning to hate them, or at the very least, hating how they make you feel, seems like such a foreign concept to me. Like living on the west-side of Detroit… It’d be a whole new world. I’d move to Alaska before the west-side. Now extend that metaphor to divorce.

Shannon’s ex has been calling…I’m still discerning what my feelings are, and how to handle the situation. Why are my feelings involved with her ex? Long story, they just are. One work visit with no communication, one phone call at work that sounded like it played like the apology step for alcoholics. There was the mention of a ‘get together’ though, and that’s what bothers me. Don’t presume that you get to have her back. I’m more than you. Always will be. This will be the second time you’ve dropped into the past looking for companionship or understanding, and that first trip lead Shannon to me didn’t? If its about you, let me save you the trouble: move on. Obviously these trips fail for you, and you’d be better off finding someone new, or just being on you’re own. If its about me, well you just bring that business to me. There is no reason to involve Shannon if you need to confront me. Do the right thing, or just leave your ego behind.

Either way, I’ll keep her.

Nerd Roll Call

I like reading blogs and message boards. I read the Kevin Smith boards, EGM boards, Peter David’s blog, and Christopher Priest’s blog. Here is the thing, clebs or quasi-celebs, David and Priest, use their websites as a way to communicate with their audience, as well as promote their projects. Fans can comment and leave posts and all of that good stuff, but I’m really perturbed by the nay-sayers. The people who take the time to tear these people apart. They are exceptionally harsh, and often have misconceptions of the work they are commenting on.

They clog up the pages with trash and bile, and force the owner of the site into a defensive position, and that is what bothers me. Why place yourself in the position? Is it sheer self-confidence? Is it blind strength in their work and characters? I can’t imagine having to explain myself to any tool with the inclination and connection speed to thrash my life’s work.

The second annoyance is the “net-quasi-celebrity”. Hosts of rumor mills or news sites that gain some bizarre notoriety because of their ‘tude or gossip ability. Harry Knowles and that. WTF is that about? Its cultish. Are we all so obsessed with celebrity? Are we all so shallow?