Who Needs a Woman?

Writing my forlorn lover; my ever longing. The one I elude as I am often eluded.

To write voluntarily is a leisure for some, impossible for others, but necessary for me. It is something I desire to faithfully embrace.

I slowly massage my page with each random phrase. Reminding, recording, and informing. The top feels the kisses of my unending desire. Slowly I move down to the neck and arouse hidden feelings, passions, and emotions. With a tender touch of the collar I feel humanity and structure. Each deep breath unlocks another minute of accelerating rapture and excitement. The breasts define the mystery of difference between our worlds. It is the mystery that constantly intrigues me and draws my attention away from myself. The ribs are origin and the stomach sustenance, which resemble the unfound, the unseen, and the always longed for. I reach for the naval, which is the tunnel of connection to the past surrounded by the bones that birth the future. I find below the intimate areas that define all pleasure, perseverance, and power. All the time knowing that the legs and arms that carry out all action are wrapped around me. Holding me close. Forever.

Put that lazy bastard out of my misery.

Every morning around 5:30am there is an individual who drives a Gold Minivan down our street. This person apparantly picks someone up who lives across the street from my house. Mind you, I am on the 5th floor over looking this street, and every morning this lazy bastard honks their horn at least 10 times beween 5:30am-6am.

It has woken me a few times, and I have easily drifted back to sleep only being casually annoyed. Yesterday was the horn that broke the camels back. I was up at 5am listening to that ass honk his stupid minivan. I vowed to do something about it because there is no way I am the only person annoyed by this. So I went to my fridge.

I picked up a hefty Roma Tomato... still too ripe would for sure break or crack a window, and then I realized that eggs are God's gift to the prankster. I grabbed one, chucked it, and missed. He had won that round.

However, today just before 6am I was awoken by that minivan bastard again. This time I was focused. Grabbed an egg, went out to my balcony, and nailed his rear passenger side window with a huge thud. Heart racing I casually strode by my roomate, who probably came out to stop me, and said, "got em."

I went back to bed, heart pounding, as I listened to the bastard drive away honking his horn down the street like an injured animal. I drifted back to sleep.

I may not have solved the problem, but hey, if he likes to wake me up there are plenty of more eggs where that one came from.

AY Yi Yi

I think it is funny when I look back at a blog I wrote and go "damn."

I often think in cartoon sounds.

I miss roller skating, but I would never just go out and do it... and going to a rink by yourself is the creepiest thing in the world.

I am addicted to cardio classes at the gym, and I am often the only male in the room. You would think that would increase the odds, but not so much.

I like when I feel lighthearted because it dosen't happen often.

Burn After Reading was pleasantly disturbing. Brad Pit and George Cloony were amazing, and the entire premise and conclusion of the movie were completely appropriate.

Sometimes life is a complete clusterfuck.

Game.

How are people so full of shit?
I am who I am.
I speak the truth about who I am.
Take or leave it.
Leave it?
I will still pick up the tab.
Why?
Because fuck you.

Easy Does It

I am playing music at The Break tomorrow night. The Break is a high school youth group affiliated with Seaside Community Church in Huntington Beach; the same group I attended as a high schooler and played at for about 3 years. I will be playing bass along side Aaron Mc Brearty and Brian Dishon for sure... perhaps more people will be there. Aaron asked me today if I wanted to play a song and I opted for bass. Life has changed so much.

I hope that tomorrow night something will happen in me that will cause me to desire to play a song. I always have enjoyed leading, but at this point I can't think of a song to play. I was thinking about it today, and all I could think of was talking to these kids, and this is the gist of what I wanted to say.

You must learn. (Thank you KRS1) If you are always listening to the person in the pulpit and not processing the thought, not understanding the meaning, and not acting out what YOU believe you are defeating the reason the whole production is arranged in the first place. Most people are raised and told by their parents in so many ways how to live, what to do, and where to go. Then we get palmed off to teachers at school, usually against our will, who do the same thing. Then we go to church and listen to a regular person explain how they feel, how they interpret the Bible, and how they have come to understand the meanings of life. I don't believe that method is sufficient. I have studied preaching and teaching, the Bible, Ministry, cultural ideologies, and people and I know for a fact that teachers and preachers always rely on their gut when it comes down to it. Are you willing to let another's experience, another's vision, another's feelings dictate your own? Many people are. It transfers the responsibility of living your life off of you and on to someone else who will eventually disappear from your life. When they go away, your grid disappears, and all you have left is the remnants of a tattered map of how to live littering your memories. Same with school... I have tons of algebraic debris in my mind and yes it has added to me and has been somewhat useful in certain ways, but if the concepts were my own, something I understood, something I applied they would be useful more to me. So I don't say, "stop going to church there is no point," I say take advantage of the fortune you have to have a consistent flow of communication, an extracurricular learning environment that is geared for your soul, a group of people you supposedly can rely on, and make those things yours.

I have spent far too long agonizing over the loss of these things in my own life. I am blessed because I made my church my own, and not only I reap the benefits but all those who see that ember in my eye. I have moved on in my life, but that doesn't stop me from coming back. I do not fear judgement, hypocrisy, or condemnation I just have a different path now. I drink on occasion to have a good time, I smoke cigarettes casually, I enjoy being around the ladies, and that is who I am. I don't think it is wrong, and I don't need to explain it.

If you believe that God loves everyone for who they are then believe that he loves me. I don't need to prove it... I am just blessed enough to know it. He created my foul mouth, my silly brain, and everything else. At least I use what I have been given. Gotta play the cards you are dealt. Fortunately I come equipped with Aces up my sleeves, at least I think they are Aces.

Democracy

Permanent psychological procrastinators
Postmortem pencil pushers
Pillaging pensive pages
Pushing presumptive projectiles
Peeling pale pigments of posthumous pride
Pining people's presumptions permanently
Pious perverted protectors of personal protagonists