...document

there's this book i read a while back called snow crash.

in it, the protagonist, who's name is hiro protagonist, starts investigating a virus that is turning all of his real world friends (who he meets in a virtual world he designed) into vegetables.

anyway one person who he meet in the real world walked around with a computer that he used at all times like an extension of himself.

i think we're there now. i think i'm here with that. it's kind of odd to walk around with a ton of technology strapped to your ears. i'm missing a headset to visualize the internet.

except if i was engaing in criminal activities, the spooks would find me in five minutes.

black helicopters and all that shit.

—the bastard

...on ghost time

the bastard just came across this. i threw it down on the train on tuesday afternoon. it must have been part of the blackout I had where i neglected to remember if I locked the front door or not.



woke up an hour or two ago.

jetlagged.

head full of t.v. snow.

this is no way for a bastard to function.

on the train.

heading to queens, in a dreamlike state.

everyone around me is a endless stream of surrealistic ghosts.

this is why i never go to work after a night flight.

who knows what kind of waking dreamscapes would await me in the office like this. maybe a talking boar head.

-the bastard

...exceptional

the bastard got up ok the wrong side today and he decided that is was your turn to have the grief.

so i haven't been kind today.

this also lent itself to a guy in an suv from Wesleyan as well as some old codger who was in my way.

at least when i go to hell, i'll be warm.

-the bastard

... on free stuff

there's nothing i like better than free beer on a thursday evening at the office.

-the bastard

...on other people&'s stories

now that the bastard doesn't take the subway to work, there is a great hole in his reserves of writing material.

i had considerred throwing down some tales from the past but, the chairman sent me this one from the subways this morning.

chairman: today a woman say down next to my friend on the train and kept elbowing him. after the 5th time, he asked her when she intended to stop. she replied, "when they find a cure for parkinson's.

not something you hear everyday.

—the bastard

...on daybreak

more from the hell is other people files.

long flight.

and my travelling companion's method of sitting could best be described as...

urban sprawl.

so at 6 am, hell is not just other people but,

speech.

so tired. but here we are, back in my city. all 5 boroughs of it.

—the bastard

waiting in the terminal on a busy evening

from the hell is other people file,

nothing is less enlightening than listening to a bunch of people from out of my town (and it is my town) talking about how great it is to live in the city.

and by "the city", they mean manhattan. the other 4 boroughs don't rate. cocksmokers.

but wait bastard don't you live in "the city" too?

no young shiteyes, i live on a rock called manhattan which has really good food and alot of assholes.

—the bastard

P.S. tonight this girl who we could consider "good looking" tried to bypass the ticket line by attaching a black tag to her bag and handing it to the TSA guy who promptly looked past her wide eyes and sent her to the line with the rest of the rubes. the bastard loves it when hot chicks fail, it makes him feel less fat and ugly.

well that's something you don't see every day

breakfast is the most important meal of the day in these parts.

hell, in any parts really.

but when the bastard's on vacay, coffee becomes a more daunting task.

so after dropping the boy off at school, i get some breakfast and a cup of coffee to dock my oil tanker on.

while driving back to an empty house and some packing I realize that um not driving so fast so I pick it up for the old man in the gun boat who's riding the bastard's ass.

it was then and only then, that he gave me the finger. as if it was some manner of delayed response.

oh

he's moving,

fuck him.

so i snapped his mug for posterity and oddly enough, he slowed down markedly. odd thing.

—the bastard

...random

the bastard's been to many bars I'm these united states but,

i've never been to a bar

where happy hour occurs every time the rail bars come down.

right now,

this is my favorite place.

—the bastard

up, up, and aweigh

welcome to jet blue.

we can't believe you two jackasses think that you're going to fit your big ass suitcases in the overhead compartment.

get out the aisle.

we also can't believe that the new york times channel is covering "lebowski fest".

all the news that fits our ASS!

enjoy your flight and always remember not only is drinking a bad idea in the morning but, it's prohibitively expensive.

—the bastard

...on the dark

it's early.

damn early.

the bastard has an 8am flight.

heading out west to see the boy.

it's still dark out. but, I took some advice frommy lady friend and called a car service. it's still frikkin dark out. and the bastard is still tired.

—the bastard

yesterday was amateur day...

...and this was pretty damn funny.

now laugh you frikkin' drunks. LAUGH.

—the bastard

...on smoke

...and firearms

spent the day in the studio.

shooting guns.

but not in the way you think.

by the end of the day, the bastard was, in a word, "PUNCHY".

we were also shooting an opener.

which brings us to the quandry of, how do you make a shotgun smoke without firing it in a photo studio in commecticutt?

our man in ct asks me if i smoke and i make that face that says i did but i don't anymore. at least not unless there's dice involved.

so we sent our man's assistant to buy a pack of djarums from the smoke shop.

and for two hours she was lying on the floor, ok her stomach, blowing smoke up the barrel of this pricey firearm so we could duplicate a smoking gun.

all in the name of journalism. it's gonna look good. i still like my job.

—the bastard

yes yes you, always walks with the crew

last night, i met with the juice crew.

the usual suspects.

beer and german food and the business were the objectives of the evening.

mission accomplished.

everything in my world tastes like fried onions. not that there is anything wrong with that.

—the bastard

plans on...

plans off...

plans on, plans off...

the planners.

fortunately, dinner plans are still on for the usual suspects.

eating at parts unknown.

eating food unknown.

—the bastard

sunday night photo

the bastard went back to queens the cheap way.

this inevitably turns into the time consuming way.

and today, it became more time consuming sinch i had to go through chinatown to get to the manhattan bridge instead of my usual roll to the williamsburg.

so when life hands you lemons, you make lemonade. now drink your frikkin lemonade jerks.

—the bastard

...on invasions

the bastard has seen it around town lately.

on cabs

on....other cabs

and on subway signs.

there are aliens in powdered wigs.

and the want us to go. and i'm not going to stand for it

—the bastard

exhausted...

...mostly because I've been getting to bed late.

but also because I've been working late.

paperwork is the trappings of management and it has grown tiresome.

—the bastard

...on the downside of art direction

as a new art director,

not that the bastard is NEW at this.

i'm just new at this magazine.

well,

not that i'm NEW at this magazine. i started in this particular branch of the journalistic lexicon seven years ago.

anyway, the downside to being a new art director is expectations.

expectations of good service. and the primary means of showing good service is,

staying late.

now the bastard doesn't always stay late because he wants to just hang around and drink whiskey, he's been working on employee evaluations so that he can put off getting his taxes done but now i have no excuses but to get that done.

but the other noticeable downside is the fact that i haven't seen the sun go down since this photo i took on the way out of the office on monday. and before that, i can't even remember when i last saw a sunset.

might have been on the weekend once upon a time.

or perhaps it was in a dream. all i know is, if i don't get some sunlight soon, i'm going to get a unrinary tract infection or some crap. maybe the gout. or the grippe.

can somebody spin the whell of old timey diseases to see what the bastard will get please?

yeah, i invented the wheel of old timey diseases. you gotta problem with that? good. you have the clap.

—the bastard

making time

"hey, the superdevil's band is playing tomorrow night"

"oh?"

"i think it would be a good idea if you came down"

"i'm there"

the bastard reiterated this in a later IM conversation.

you see, the devil's work has dried up for our host and with a dearth of evil in his life, he's....

well...

he's just been up to no good.


so last night, i took a trip downtown to see the chairman's boss play with his band.

there were worse fates.

i could have stayed for the other band's set. which was it's own concentric circle of hell.

good times.

no.

GREAT times.

—the bastard

...on devil worship

"Daddy, what does regret mean?
Well son, the funny thing about regret is,
It's better to regret something you have done,
Than to regret something you haven't done.
And by the way, if you see your mom this weekend,
Be sure and tell her, SATAN, SATAN, SATAN!!!"

saw this on the way home last night. a cab decised to take the long way around the corner so i just got out and started walking. i've done this before. this reminded the bastard of a butthole surfers song i hadn't heard in a while
—the bastard

the bastard said it before and he'll say it again

...could any hell be more real

or now?

—the bastard

it snowed last night

...and into today and this afternoon.

apparently it did all the way up the eastern seaboard.

so, you've learned nothing new.

screw you.

—the bastard

how i spent my sunday

my ladyfriend had plans in new jersey today so, the bastard got up at the crack of 10 am, which was the style of the time.


afterwards, i ran some errands in the q borough (which is thorough). now, i rock the bus back to the subway to get back to the rock.

why did I make a run to queens to ride back to manhattan to ride back to queens to take mass transit back to manhattan?

well

it's one part stupid and two parts not wanting to carry three bags of groceries back to manhattan by train. so go to hell.

—the bastard