being a bastard works...

the wolf is at your door…

2012-01-29T13:45:00.002-05:00

the bastard doesn't get much chance to go to concerts anymore.

well…

let me take that back.

the bastard doesn't get much chance to go to concerts that feature bands that he likes.

I mean don't get me wrong, the Bon jovi show I went to with the wife last year was good and all but the bastard doesn't really like bon jovi.

so when Chicago jerkface put forth the idea of going to see Motörhead and megadeth last night, the bastard was in.

not make no mistake…

I don't much like megadeth either

but…

Motörhead is a different ball of wax altogether.

and they fucking ROCKED.

picture a freight train of thunder and song hooks and you're in the same room as Lemmy and crew.

the other thing is this…

Lemmy is 67 years old and subsists on a diet of whiskey and cigarettes and in the bastard's opinion, is what an aging rock star should be… unapologetic.

and I'll always love his music for that. the fact that they were selling a tour shirt that said "no albums for two more years tour 2012" was just the goddam icing on the cake.

I hope that old man never dies.

and I thought this last night, when the set was over and I shouted at the top of my lungs, "SING MORE SONGS OLD MAN!"

this made my damn month last night. thanks.

—the bastard

g train? what g train?

2012-01-29T01:24:00.002-05:00

nothing says new York city will never get a mayor that cares about the outer boroughs until we ELECT. a mayor from the outer boroughs like the frikkin G train.

Nuff said

—the bastard

down with the ship

2012-01-27T11:35:00.000-05:00

so the bastard has this uncle...

and he's not doing so well.

well, he's dying really.

and now the mind reels

when captain nemo used to live in shirley which may as well been in florida anyways,

sitting on his barstools as a kid.

him sneaking us point fives which wasn't my first taste of beer but it was more sanctioned than sneaking a sip of dad's bottle of schmidts on a friday night.

nemo sneaking the mofo onto grandpa's boat knowing full well that the dinghy was overloaded past capacity.

nemo spinning tales of sticking his fingers in the mash to piss off my aunt.

nemo sharing the attic with dad because they were 7 under one roof.

the magnificent seven as mom refers to them.

here's a tale.

dad and nemo are sleeping in the attic on the hottest night of the year and all they have is a fan.

the fan blows between their beds to keep both slightly less than sweltering. and doing it badly.

dad falls asleep.

wakes up in the middle of the night in a pool of sweat to find the fan had been turned away from him.

begrudged, dad decides to sleep out on the porch instead.

upon the retelling of this tale, nemo lets out a throaty laugh that sounded like an old prospector.

but louder.

so loud.

so infectious.

captain nemo laughs like a man who loves living and now that he's dying the bastard can't help thinking that he'd give anything to be able to dish more dirt.

tell more stories.

make us all laugh about how well he fucked with his siblings.

and how much...

despite it all...

they'd love love to hear him tell it right now and laugh about it along with him.

—the bastard

jet lag…

2012-01-26T00:28:00.002-05:00

… makes it hahd to type

been back a few days and it's taken me some time to get it together.

staying up til 3 in Vegas doesn't do right by an east coaster.

so I've been run down.

trying to get back I the groove with the dead animal books.

yeah, the bastard works for all ah they now.

I will say this though.

consolidation has done wonders for my office creativity.

now if I should only sleep like a normal person.

oh well.

go to hell.

—the bastard

the horror...the...hor..ror

2012-01-20T16:13:00.001-05:00

there are some things that the bastard can never wash out of his brain.

and now you cannot wash it out of your brain as well.

some call him heavenly in his brilliance. others mean and ruthful of the western dream. i love the friends i have gathered together on this thin raft. we have constructed pyramids in honor of our escaping. this is the land where the pharaoh died.

your welcome.

—the bastard

...in which the bastard shows you pictures in the least convenient way possible

2012-01-20T16:00:00.004-05:00

shot show ain't the mullet fest it used to be. and i don't put it all together like that anymore since i got on the virus that is twitter and facebook and instagram.

so that said,

i have linked as many of these words as possible in order to that it you jerks want a look at the bastard's life on the road you can. or perhaps you can't. either way, i still get whiskey out of the deal so up yours.

—the bastard

…on tossers

2012-01-18T03:35:00.002-05:00

once upon a time…

companies were flush with cash…

and they didn't care who showed up in your suite at a convention.

then one year someone pissed the powers that be off and they said, "by invitation only".

this suited the bastard well as if not too many jerks won't be heading into my room...

to steal my team's food...

to mooch off of our resources...

to make me want to stab them in the face.

they even put us in a room that is off to the side.

away from the action so no one would even WANT to come walking in.

but all plans are not foolproof

case...

meet...

point...

this couple walks in and beelines straight for the coffee and snick snax.

i head over to them and ask them if they need any help because it's better to be polite.

the wife scrambles to grab a cup as her man looks his nose down on the bastard and does the slowest...

smuggest...

head shake ever.

slowly shaking his head no, like a fucking boss.

so i step to him, "well this is my press room. you can't be here. get out"

"sorry, i thought we were allowed in here even though we just zipped right in through the back door with no obvious reason to stay in the main room where salespeople are diligently trying to make your company because we thought we were slick. and because we're fucking moochers", he responds.

"no you aren't...get out"

and thus began the consistent parade of sneaky assholes in "air quotes" who kept darkening my door.

"can i use your computers?"

"no...get out"

"i just thought i'd get a cup of coffee here where i suspected no one was looking"

"there you go with the thinking again chuckles. no...get out"

the bastard even had a guy slink in who actually had a door pass but still saw fit to saunter in. he was retired corps. gave me the stink eye. said he had a pass to be in here. showed me the card.

"that pass isn't for this room, sir. you can't be in here"

then he proceeded to make a scene up front. bitching about the surly bald guy in the back.

"i used to be a marine!"

"that coffee is mine by divine right of kingship"

"i used to eat guys like that for breakfast before i got old"

"i am. I AM! I AM!"

"shut the hell up jerk"

they calmed him down and put up a sign and sent him on his way but not before he spent 20 minutes pacing back and forth past my door to give me the stink eye and it reminded me of my time at the grocery store in the fhills.

old folks would give me shit and expect me to take it and were aghast when i told them what they could do with their effing coupons which was followed by a litany of "respect your elders" bullshit.

the bastard respects his elders but because he tries to step with the good foot. but if you come back with sass you lose that respect. you aren't owed respect for taking up space on this rock for longer than the youth, you get it because you try to be good and give what you get. it isn't foolproof but it's worth trying every time.

then you slap folks with your pimp hand.

—the bastard

P.S. i later found that the retired marine had the door pass because his organization helps disabled veterans so the bastard felt a little sheepish for rolling up on the guy. but, he was still creeping and that shit isn't above board with me.

…on tawkin

2012-01-15T12:00:00.000-05:00

click click. out the bathroom.

head hurts so the bastard goes to the stewardess…er…bald guy who is my flight attendant

"oh it's you again", he says. I figger it's his way of being charming.

"yeah… I'm back".

"what can I get you?"

"a cup of coffee and a water?"

"uh cuppa caufee an uh waddah"

well here's the impasse.

it's kind of offensive as I find everyone's best new Yorker impersonation actually sucks cock but the man did move me to a window seat, and this airline provides me with all the free drinkers I want.

besides, my boss is from southham and I'm sure he's gonna crack me in the jaw if I say, "innit" one too many times.

then again, we talk about chavs all the time so I guess it's okay provided I don't take it the wrong way when he takes the piss outta me on the regular.

that's a story of its own.

today's vocabulary word is "clipping"

—the bastard

…on tinkering

2012-01-15T11:00:00.001-05:00

so the bastard is watching the update of tinker, tailor, soldier, spy.

and in his mind, it didn't need to be remade but I'm not going to miss seeing Gary Oldman play at matching Alec Guinness' performance as George Smiley.

then 20 minutes in smiley is riding in a car with his subordinate and a retired guy from special branch who is a bee keeper.

shot from the rear, in a moving car, a bee is buzzing around the car and the driver swats away to no avail.

swats and swats.

the bee wanders in smiley's direction.

smiley opens a window.

the bastard is in for a treat.

—the bastard

perhaps a bit early in the morning…

2012-01-15T09:30:00.000-05:00

but a bidness trip means a bidness drink

doctor whiskey…

he's not just for breakfast anymore.

—the bastard

its go time…

2012-01-14T21:19:00.002-05:00

well my bag is packed…

the gear is charging…

the bastard lies in wait…

like a caged animal.

ready for the big show.

wondering what mayhem will be wrought…

wondering if I will punch the toddler if I see him…

and if the bastard will have enough for bail money after the craps tables bleed him dry.

6 and 8 are great…

whoa peaches…

pants are off…

it's go time…

geronimo

—the bastard

…on good neighbor policies

2012-01-13T21:33:00.002-05:00

so we used to run this place like a hotel.

a service rented like 4 apartments that hadn't sold yet as air bnb short term rentals.

this stopped shortly after 15 washed up sorority girls rented the two bedroom on the 10th floor and proceeded to get drunk and shout at 3am.

now three units on the fourth floor are going to house the cast of 'the next food network star'

and the food network promises that their peeps with stay the hell quiet.

the bastard ain't holding his breath.

cause chefs like to enjoy theyselves.

and I?

I like thinking about hitting assholes in the grill with lead pipes.

so at least we'll have stuff to talk about at some point.

and may the best chef win… er… not get hit in the grill with a lead pipe

—the bastard

and 400,000 pages later…

2012-01-08T20:48:00.002-05:00

the gun show is next weekend

time to tie up loose ends.

this will be less easy than it has been before.

so much to do.

and so much bad timing.

the bastard wonders of he'll ever not have to work on work after he gets home from work again.

so tired.

but I had some dope ass gnocchi for dinner and that has to count for something.

— the bastard

lucky…

2012-01-08T20:40:00.002-05:00

lucky old man lives by the river

lucky old man walked down to the river tonight to think about things

lucky old man dodged a bullet

lucky old man wants the voices to stop

lucky old man has a loaf of bread under each arm.

lucky old man gets to keep his job.

lucky old man is lucky.

lucky man wonders when his luck is gonna run out.

lucky old man will drink whiskey later and think more on the subject.

—the bastard

…on watching ones back

2012-01-05T20:51:00.002-05:00

the bastard was seized by paranoia this afternoon.

he doesn't like it much

it's been a few months so he almost forgot how bad it felt.

I'm kind of sick of it actually.

when did I become so mentally ill?

it wears one out.

I just hope it's just the voices. the bastard can deal with the voices.

stupid voices.

—the bastard

the lion in winter…

2012-01-05T20:44:00.002-05:00

the heat in the living room wasn't working last night

new building my ass

so when the bastard turned in he felt like a right frozen bag of bones.

woke up feeling as such as well.

it's not that I've become too old.

it's just that I'm not young anymore either.

and some days, the bastard clicks when he walks.

need to get to a gym.

get it together.

that's the ticket.

better luck tomorrow.

—the bastard

what rough beast…

2012-01-04T02:27:00.002-05:00

so the bastard started his next project.

the Dom is proving to be strikingly easy to build thusfar.

which means I'll have more time to think about paint.

paint that I've already discovered comes out of corian when you use a standard cleaner.

whoops

—the bastard

…on the pile

2012-01-03T21:02:00.003-05:00

with over a week off,

and a little over 2 weeks until the gun show,

the bastard has to hit to workload in earnest now.

I have to get it all done before the big shoe.

I hope I never get dead.

but I might.

—the bastard

new year…

2012-01-02T14:12:00.002-05:00

…new bastard

the bastard welches out of new years resolutions all the time.

so I can tell you i will no doubt welch on this too.

but,

I decided that I wasn't doing enough with this crapstand of late.

and through the gentle prodding of my good friend heavy metal, I thought it was time to get back at it.

you see, it was the train ride that gave me time to compose my nonsense but my ride is 10 minutes now.

however

the babby like company when she naps and sleeps these days so the bastard sees an opportunity to work.

so there it is…

let's see how it goes.

hopefully to hell

—the bastard

the bastard made a frikkin meatloaf last night

2012-01-02T14:01:00.002-05:00

yeah that's right jerks.

he made a frikkin meatloaf

and you know what it was Fulla?

frikkin MEATS

and it was EXcellent

—the bastard

the mean season…

2012-01-02T13:48:00.002-05:00

as the bastard was wolfing down his brekky the other day, he was watching the effing chris Matthew's show.

I frikkin hate that guy

that sanctimonious blowhard shill gets my ire up every Sunday, which is why the wife tries to keep caillou on for the babby.

but what she doesn't know is…

I frikkin HATE caillou, that sanctimonious whiny prick.

always with the whining and the self discovery and the fucking overall wearing teacher.

frikkin bald jerk. go mine me some oil sand you asshole.

but the bastard is getting off track here.

chris Matthews.

on his show on Sunday, his panel of left wing bobble heads are talking about the upcoming Iowa cockus tomorrow

so…

they rock out a sizzle reel of the last 500,000 Iowa cockuses so that I can break my flatscreen with a hammer when the voices tell me that Walter Mondale is in my living room.

I guess the baby isn't going to be able to wash THAT. memory out of her brain.

fucking Walter Mondale.

anyway, with that mess of glass and plasma on my floor, I realize,

A: the bastard bought some fly ass bar stools at ikea

and

B: we are standing on the precipice of what will be the single filthiest presidential election in American history.

FILTHY

and the bastard isn't so sure he can stand it.

but he does have a Des Moines t-shirt.

Des Moines: hell yeah

—the bastard

…on gunpla

2011-12-31T14:06:00.002-05:00

the bastard has taken to doing his builds slowly these days.

take this real grade I finished building this week.

I've been really savoring taking my time on these things.

even though sometimes its actually due to circumstances beyond my control, I like to know something small is waiting for me when some quiet time happens.

took me 4 months to complete this one. took me almost a year to build the last one.

I think the Dom I got for Christmas will eat some time too.

ridiculous hobbies are ridiculous.

—the bastard

…on typography

2011-12-31T13:59:00.002-05:00

as the bastard cracked open a bottle of smithwick's the other day,

I took a good look at what I was drinking as I usually do after the first sip.

but I noticed the typeface on the neck of the bottle.

this is grotesque monotype black and it was the cause of much design grief for me in 2010 and 2011.

but we redesigned the book over the last few months and now the only time I'll have to look at it is when I crack open a bottle of smithwick's.

I mean, who the hell puts serifs randomly on a san serif font? wtff?

well goodbye to all of that.

hello to the new hotness that is 2012.

—the bastard

you see me rollin'… and you're doing it wrong

2011-12-29T21:12:00.003-05:00

the bastard likes himself some chain BBQ every now and again.

and I like to go out the the burbs for it as the only evidence of chain restaurants in the liquid city is subway and dunkin.

so it was out to famous Dave's

Fay…

muss…

Dave's

so I roll into the lot with the fan and there it is.

this hummer.

not the old one, the bulky puffy ugly one that looks like the stay puff marshmallow man of automobiles

with faux gun turrets.

faux…

gun…

turrets…

so I excused myself from the fan for a second because I felt the need to pop off a few shots and to inform us all that somewhere in long island…

someone is driving wrongs…

all kinds of wrongs

—the bastard

the deaths door challenge…

2011-12-28T14:57:00.002-05:00

…or how the bastard rediscovered doctor whiskey for the 11th time.

the bastard reads alot of shit on the interwebs about alot of things.

and

some of it is about alcohol.

new brands.

new styles.

a fresh spin on an old style.

alcoholics.

stuff like that.

recently, my brother in law flew in for the Christmas (I'm gonna call it Christmas because that's what I was celebrating. if you'd like to talk Kwanzaa, we can talk about Ron karenga electrocuting his girlfriend in another post) and I seized the opportunity to pick up this white whiskey I read about on uncrate called 'deaths door'.

Named after the super treacherous strait formed by Washington Island, WI and the Door Peninsula, Death's Door Spirits have both a literal and poetic connection to the location. Death's Door White Whisky is made from a mash with an 80:20 ratio of organic Washington Island Wheat and organic malted barley, double-distilled to 160 proof (!), and finished in uncharred oak barrels to bring it together.

this is from the press release.

so after the wife adjourned herself for the evening (not the whiskey drinking sort) the bastard pulled out two glasses for himself and the brother in law who is more of a scotch man.

after a long draw, I looked at him and he at me and both agreed that deaths door was 'nice'.

'nice'

that's what it was.

it was clean.

it has an almost grassy finish.

but it was only 'nice'.

I followed up with two glasses of knob creek. and immediately upon hitting that it came to me.

this was what was missing from deaths door.

smoke

caramel

character

deaths door can really pack the alcohol in but it's just 'nice'.

like the Midwest.

nice.

but I'd rather live in the dirty smokey part of the country instead.

—the bastard

bad scene…

2011-12-24T13:36:00.002-05:00

the bastard is finally coming out of his coma by the good graces of a bottle of kombucha and some noodles.

but he has to tell you that he felt like hell this morning.

the recipe for a bad scene is as follows:

take and afternoon celebratory beer or two because your big kampf is through

add some early evening whiskey to keep in the "thank god this awful production is at an end."

finish bottle with left hand rob.

deposit dead soldier in garbage.

go home.

have a beer or three with wife and brother in law.

after wife goes to bed, have comparison taste test between white whiskey and bourbon.

mix it all together in a big jug and sleep on it.

and in a mere 7 hours, you have something very bad.

enjoythanxbai.

—the bastard

Alexander wept…

2011-12-24T01:32:00.002-05:00

done is another 100 plus pages.

looking forward to more grief at the gun show.

once more into the breach my friends.

—the bastard

PS: i'm also 12 years old now

storied

2011-12-20T01:57:00.002-05:00

I was having a chat with my boss about the toddler

and it was a tale I was asked to not tell anyone.

but anyone is no longer working her.

and no longer is the toddler.

so the bastard spilled and it inspired him to perhaps tell other tales out of school if it strikes him.

so who I knows

—the bastard

…on these little silences

2011-12-02T23:18:00.003-05:00

went out for a drink with lobster Johnson tonight

he and mrs. Johnson were going to see some burlesque tonight and we caught up for a meal.

made for a tasty pork chop and some good brew.

made for a better Friday night that would have added up to the bastard working on the daily and drinking whiskey.

nothing against whiskey but,

the bastard likes a little time in the yard with the people.

makes him feel a little more adjusted to his circumstances.

also

it's keeps him from punching you in the face

—the bastard

to see a man about a horse…

2011-11-27T20:18:00.002-05:00

the bastard is sad tonight.

and it's not because he lives in a van down by the river.

you see, it's about the past.

it's about my past.

the wife had asked me to make a run to the garage in the fhillz to pick up some stuff and to get some stuff for the house.

and when I turned down the wrong block I saw it was gone.

the stable.

the stable where I learned to ride horses.

the stable where I learned about community.

the stable where I learned to jump.

learned to respect creatures greater than myself.

where I broke my nose into 11 pieces.

where I met my people.

where I rode on tuesday nights in the summer coming back in the dark only by the good grace of an animal who knew the way.

then we drank into the night and swapped stories.

talked the craik.

learned about the land on my forebears.

learned to let people's shortcomings go by the wayside.

and most importantly, learned that I felt the most free when the wind was blowing in my face.

and alot of other things that I could never possibly remember because this is what time does to a man.

it robs you of your past.

now all that's there is a fucking sidewalk and some scaffolding.

and all I have is a broken nose to remind me that the barn was there.

thanks for the wind. thanks oh so very much.

the bastard never took it for granted for it was the greatest gift I ever received.

—the bastard

what the bastard has been waiting for

2011-11-24T23:44:00.002-05:00

so the bastard is doing the weekly trader joes run.

yeah I go to trader joes. wanna fight about it?

and an ad comes on the radio advertising a broadway show and one critic was quoted as saying,

"this is the play we've all been waiting for"

this is the play we've all been waiting for

what does that even mean?!

we, the collective we have been waiting for this play?

was the OWS crowd waiting for this play?

have the homeless been waiting for this play?

have the fat cats?

the devout?

your moms? has your moms been waiting for this steaming pile of shit?

I know I haven't.

so I beg to differ.

this is NOT play the bastard has been waiting for.

not by a long shot.

I've been waiting for some quiet and four fingers of whiskey

and some piece of mind. that's what the bastard has been waiting for.

so up yours play that we've all been waiting for.

because we haven't. kthanxbai

—the bastard

slice and dice…

2011-11-24T01:55:00.002-05:00

"so, mr. bastard what seems to be the trouble?"

"well doc, I sliced off the tip of my finger on a mandoline"

"that's got to hurt"

"yep. and after about 45 minutes of direct pressure, I find that I'm still bleeding. so I decided that it was a good time to seek a professional on the matter"

"well you came to the right place"

"good, because I think i'd have a problem if I didn't"

so in a nutshell, the bastard sliced off a little piece of finger so I had to once again meet my neighborhood in an inconvenient way.

reminds me of the time in the fhillz when my v dub had a massive gas leak that introduced me to that hood.

only with more blood and less gasoline.

—the bastard

this weak in anime

2011-11-22T15:29:00.001-05:00

the bastard

frikkin' loves

gundam unicorn!

never have i followed a series that takes so long to produce.

never have i followed a series that continues to deliver the goods.

and never will a series leave me waiting around with baited breath for the next installment.

the bastard will be sad when it's done

—the bastard

…on q's and a's

2011-11-18T01:04:00.002-05:00

recently, I was editing video for a friend from comic con

and

I started filming sidebars for things I felt like explaining.

"hey, I saw 25 doctor who's at the show and they all wore fez's"

stuff like that.

so that said, if anyone has a decent question,

and if I've had enough whiskey that day,

I will answer your questions.

because I do shit like that now.

—the bastard

…the bridge

2011-11-18T00:58:00.002-05:00

the bastard lives very close to the planet of Brooklyn.

so close, that corrupt eurotrash vacation rental websites call this place hunters point, Brooklyn.

those poor goddam Norwegians will never know that the soil they renting for the weekend is from that of the thourough borough.

its so close that there's a goddam bridge I can take to go to Brooklyn.

so I did.

in fact it's so close, they should call it greenpoint, queens.

except real estate developers wouldn't be able to get the good price for new apartments.

and hipsters would have to compete with strollers as well.

you see.

we has some children up in this piece.

anyway.

I went across the bridge to see the greenpoint.

had a good sammich served to me by a woman wearing very unfortunate pants.

and I saw a homeless man stripping the insulation off of copper wires.

then I went home and took a nap.

what?!?

we're you expecting the frikkin odyssey?

ok

it was actually a cyclops stripping the wire.

now go die

—the bastard

…on your head buddy

2011-11-15T00:55:00.002-05:00

I never met j garino.

well maybe I did.

I've been to so many shows in the q-ville.

I've been to so many BBQ's in the q-ville as well.

so I may have met him.

but it doesn't really matter. j garino's music had touched my life before his sudden death last year.

I think he died of an aneurism.

but that doesn't matter either.

I just know that the civic pride I feel for my old hood is built around the two bands he was in that I'd see on the regular and along with no redeeming social value, they paid tribute to the man on Saturday night.

a bastard never felt so honored to hand over his cover charge knowing that it was going to something better than a case of pbr's for the trash bar's inventory.

you see

his old band mates from Norman bates and he shower heads and the six and violence set up a scholarship in his name so that some young kid who wanted to make some music could do so one day.

and there was a show.

it always astounds me how queens village will always come correct and show Brooklyn how to throw a punk rock show.

that's not just some bluster I'm throwing out there to make you feel bad Brooklyn, it's a known quantity. you don't have to cry about it.

we know you ain't got it in ya.

—the bastard

…on the return

2011-11-08T23:54:00.002-05:00

the bastard took a week and change off.

I saw the boy.

went to the southwest.

came home.

went to the northeast.

to spend time with the wife.

it made for a great unwind.

now it's once more into the breach.

for the daily starts.

the redesign starts.

the long days start.

once more into the breach.

—the bastard

this weak in anime

2011-11-03T16:34:00.001-04:00

The bastard is kinda digging the new gundam anime.

it's a little young considering I'm actually waiting patiently for gundam: the origin

but it'll do

—the bastard

knights of the rails part4

2011-11-03T05:35:00.001-04:00

"stick to your guns" is what the bastard decided on the Tarmac at 4:55 this morning

travel on a budget ain't easy

and it ain't gonna get any easier with a crappily made cheese steak being washed down with decent whiskey.

but no one said the bastard wanted it easy.

east is for people who are ready to drop 40 bucks to sit on the van wyck with a crappily made cheesesteak washed down with decent whiskey.

way I see it, I'm gonna feel I'll either way and if I hit all my marks, I'm only gonna lose 20 minutes of my life.

and I get some cardio out of it.

who am I kidding, I'd rather be sleeping in a cab on the van wyck but a man's gotta stick to his guns.

—the bastard

song track: the mob rules

…on materials

2011-11-03T05:34:00.001-04:00

beep

beep

beep

the bastard frisks himself a 10th time.

don't worry jerk.

you've been randomly selected to be searched for hazardous materials.

all they found was grease on my hands from dinner.

there's your tax dollars at work.

making the world safe from fat guys in gundam t-shirts.

—the bastard

…on quick service

2011-11-02T23:38:00.001-04:00

the bastard is an impatient man.

so when he arrived at the flying bar's counter and found no one there, he was mad.

I mean, I wanted a meal.

some whiskey.

some more whiskey.

and maybe some dinner.

so I got all on the twitter:

"it's 6:30 pm @flyingbar do you know where the hell your staff is @ Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport (PHX)"

5 minutes later twitter says to the bastard:

@thebastard Sorry for the wait. The JetBlue ticket counter at PHX opens at 6:45 pm. Somebody should be there very soon!

while I was impressed at the quick response, the bastard was also weirded out.

stupid secrete police.

be less secrete

—the bastard

open road… REALLY open

2011-11-02T20:24:00.001-04:00

I think the tired has caught up with me.

and I think my shuttle bus is taking me to the airport via the middle of nowhere.

perhaps the bastard is more accustomed to dodging a traffic jam via taking the bridge instead of the tunnel.

this seems more like take the desolate empty road instead of the i10.

at least it's never boring.

and at least this shuttle doesn't smell like the down economy.

I'm looking forward to some bourbon and a meal at this point.

oh yeah, I updated the look of the blog. this is what I do when the boy is at school and I'm tired of sitting around.

love it.

no really. love it. or I'll stab you in the neck.

— the bastard

shuttle bus of smells

2011-10-29T02:50:00.005-04:00

flying on a budget is hell the bastard tells you.

HELL!

three trains to the airport?

seamless.

flight from jfk to Boston?

by the numbers

connecting flight from Boston to Phoenix?

well let's just say that Logan international needs to get its shit together. and it's fucking hard to sleep on a plane when someone else's kid has the fucking night terrors on the plane.

cobras!

COBRAS!

has the bastard told you that hell is other people's kids?

except mine. my kids are frikkin SAINTS.

it's true. ask my kids.

but now we're in the desert and now I'm in this van that smells like sweat and tobacco and sadness.

you wanna know what the down economy smells like?

it's this van. and it comes with a goddam trailer too.

I'm the only jackass in this tin can but my suitcase has to ride in the trailer along with the meth lab.

good times.

no

GREAT times.

— the bastard

shamrock shakes and oxycontin

2011-10-28T19:47:00.004-04:00

the bastard feels ill.

I just stuffed a hamburger and shake down my gullet in Logan airport and it ain't sitting right.

on the plus side, Logan has a shit ton of bars (re: BAHS)

on the downside, Logan has a shit ton of drunk people from Boston (re: BASTAHN. say CHOWDAH frenchie).

that said, I wait at my gate hoping like hell that most of these folks are going to Tampa.

— the bastard

…on the knights of the rails part3

2011-10-28T14:29:00.003-04:00

song track: I rule the ruins

so much to the bastard's surprise and bemusement, the system works.

made it here in an hour door to door.

yep

DOOR to DOOR

— the bastard

…on the knights of the rails part2

2011-10-28T14:24:00.003-04:00

track: angel of death

two f trains for every e train.

good times. 30 minutes into the borough that most thorough, the bastard gets in while tom araya screams into his ear.

riding the e train to the terminus.

past the fhillz.

almost feels nostalgic.

but it don't.

— the bastard

…on the knights of the rails part 1

2011-10-28T13:48:00.003-04:00

the bastard ain't made outta money you know.

so today on my epic journey to the desert I start out with the 7 train to take me to points east.

hopefully it doesn't get all cocked up

song track: stacked crooked

— the bastard

a great while

2011-10-28T12:40:00.003-04:00

it's been a little bit.

mostly because my phone blogging app wasn't working

oh well.

go to hell

— the bastard

… the bastard has got to tell you…

2011-10-07T22:54:00.003-04:00

whiskey'll take a ton of you free time.

that is all

—the bastard

…leveling out

2011-10-07T22:40:00.001-04:00

so it's been twice that the boss invited me out for a pint.

which tells a bastard that he has become considerably less annoying than he thought

getting old blinds one to this otherwise obvious observation. almost as much as being young blinds one to this observation.

so I count it as a win of sorts.

sí, we went to the knife for a punt and mystery science was there with some coes and was expecting more.

and the way he introduced me to his crew was someone I've known for a long long time.

which was kind of flattering in a way as his old friends from small times seem to go way way back and I've only know. the bloke for 5 years really up close but he counts me as an old friend anyway.

this is. ice to know.

you see, the bastard has had a crisis of faith since some folks have left the fold. it's nice to have folks to chat to.

—the bastard

zombies on a thursday night

2011-09-29T23:26:00.001-04:00

it really is amazing how quickly on can get to the upper upper west side on a weeknight to play a zombie board game.

yeah. you header that right. the bastard plays zombie board games. wanna fight about it? I'll cut your sorry ass.

have I mentioned I've been drinking.

—the bastard

…on Baden Powell

2011-09-17T16:06:00.001-04:00

"you left your soda water"

"i know", the bastard retorts with two full hands with four bags of groceries. "sometimes I wish I had three hands".

and then I amble across the street with the weeks repast in my sore arms.

I turn and the man's friend is carrying my seltzer across the street, "I figure that I'll be your third hand today"

"bless you man", I replied.

now the bastard doesn't speak in such evangelical platitudes but sometimes it's better than just saying thank you.

but hey guy, thanks for the good turn. the man who's words I try to live by sometimes lives on in you.

do a good turn daily jerk

be prepared jerk

don't be a jerk. jerk

baden powell never said jerk but I do. because most people are jerks. just not the guy who just helped me out.

—the bastard

this weak in anime

2011-09-15T16:58:00.000-04:00

wow guy.

screw me?

no

screw YOU!

—the bastard

120 characters at a time...more or less

2011-09-08T00:52:00.002-04:00

by and large, the bastard has kept quiet about things that bother him. but, i had an interesting experience over the weekend watching a mini series called the buddha of suburbia in which some of the actions of the supporting characters got under my skin. the main, is an indian english kid who is trying to find himself in pre thatcher england. but this is a different story to tell.

affected by it, i rolled into work to see that my good friend art school had retweeted a link (yeah i'm on the twitter...do the goddam guess work yourself) about how mom's spend more time parenting than dads.

upon reading the article, already ired up a little...

SIDEBAR: the bastard has two children. they live 2500 miles apart from one another. this gets me a little sensitive about what i'll refer to as "men's issues" or perhaps better put "father's issues" in which i've notice that it has become more and more socially acceptable to lay into fathers in the popular culture lexicon. it bothers me because of my unique circumstances as well as the fact that i have watched over the years men let this sort of shit become acceptable. but i digress...

...i noticed that the sample of the survey that backs this article had a relatively low cross section to sample.

so in a series of 120 or less character responses, i decided to put it here...

...discuss

art school: No surprise! RT @redacted: Moms Spend 1150 More Hours Parenting per Year than Dads. How do you like this statistic? http://ht.ly/6mqqb

the bastard: 1035 moms & dads surveyed is hardly a respectable baseline @artschool #ihavetocallbull also, i used to work for company redacted. notsomuch with the work

art school: @ourhost However, many other similar surveys show similar results. Each time, my heart breaks a little. Which is, as you know, #notverylemurian.

the bastard: started questioning surveys a long time ago @artschool they never survey enough people and enough kinds of people. i have other theories

art school: @ourhost You get mad because you KNOW you do more. The average dad would say , "Yeah, but it's HER job."

the bastard: i'm not the average dad according to surveys @artschool also, i have two kids 2500 miles apart from one another #isdifferent my whole thing is that laying into fathers is low lying fruit @artschool there are many shades of grey here. gets my ire up #notverylemurian

art school: @ourhost And what are your theories? (Although I do agree some surveys are flawed & it's easy to skew data.)

the bastard: reporters don't do much reportage anymore @artschool they make phone calls & check the net you can call 1200 people but they may not answer

art school: @ourhost So what do you think is the real issue?

the bastard: lazy reportage, negative mass media stereotyping lack of real communication which is surprising in the information age @artschool

#solutions @artschool can be more thorough more honest reporting; less tim allen sitcoms; less of joy behar talking; more of spouses talking

art school: @ourhost I never liked Tim Allen sitcoms.

the bastard: it sends a bad message about couples @artschool I was never a Seinfeld fan but at least he never offended me

art school: @ourhost Oh he offended me, but for completely different reasons.

the bastard: oh? @artschool was it the whole convicted drug dealers can be successful thing? or was it his fantastic way of making husbands look dumb?

art school: @ourhost Perhaps both? I think you have the makings of a great blog post, though. Want to write one?

the bastard: I've thought about it but I fear my anger gets the better of me @artschool misandry is kind of not discussed much

you realize @artschool this may be the blogpost right here #streamofconscious

art school: @ourhost It's not discussed because men usually won't discuss it. Easier to laugh at the buffoon than take him down.

the bastard: very true @artschool however, i found in my experience that the idea of misandry is often scoffed at by my lady friends as conspiracy bull

art school: @ourhost It goes beyond the kind of misandry you experienced at the hands of , for example.

the bastard: was fulla hate @artschool i saw an interview with camille paglia on bob costas one night that for me exposed the movement's bullshit

art school: @ourhost I hated that saw me as some kind of ally to her cause, which I never was. You can be a feminist without hating men.

the bastard: i don't know @artschool going by the fish/bicycle ideology, can you be a steinem era feminist and not hate men while fighting for socialism?

art school: @ourhost You can't be a socialist and hate men. At least it doesn't seem that way from my POV.

@ourhost Many rights groups start on that premise, but it has to be more than just about that for it to be meaningful.

the bastard: about social justice @artschool ? that's a buzz word i'm very found of pillorying

i find that social justice is about the unrealistic desire to smash the state HERE because people are being victimized THERE @artschool

art school: @ourhost Not the kind of social justice I've worked for. But I do know what you mean.

the bastard: from my perspective, i've become suspicious of everything @artschool i don't even discuss politics for fear that i won't be well liked

art school: @ourhost Yeah, I hear you. Politics is a slippery slope. And I dislike extreme positions.

the bastard: but extreme positions makes for better television these days @artschool and we ALL love the rangers/flyers game when it comes to town

art school: @ourhost You, you....extremist...you!!! Being so damn extreme!! #sonotlemurian

i'm usually being post modern and ironic though @artschool #ruse #thatshowwediditinlemuria

art school: @ourhost Irony is #verylemurian in a pre-postmodern sort of way. (Waiting for the postmodern bot to correct me.)

the bastard: win a postmodern iPad case here!!! @artschool it is most ironic

—the bastard

…in which my big mouth gets me into trouble

2011-09-07T00:44:00.001-04:00

the bastard was in the paper recently.

no it wasn't for that string of liquor stores I robbed (whoops)

some guy from the daily news rolled up on me and wanted to ask me about my new hood.

so I took my hand off the knife and decided to answer his questions.

in said interview I complained about something that needed to be done with my shower that the owners wouldn't fix because it's too much work. but after my shower started leaking into the apartment below me. then they fixed it.

this is what dan in the daily news.

that was a month ago.

two weeks ago (3 this Friday) the story ran and they had ripped out my shower again because they missed the leak.

and the repair job is going much slower this time.

it's starting to piss me off. not that my big mouth hit the newsstand on the eve of this work in my place. no. it's because I haven't had the use of one of my bathrooms in fucking 3 weeks. damn thin skinned fuckers.

serves me right to be talking to reporters. well maybe I'm a little remorseful but, not as much as I could be.

there's always losing my shot and running around the owners office with a machete. that is IF the bastard had a machete.

—the bastard

…so my wife is gonna hate me

2011-08-31T00:31:00.001-04:00

its a down economy you know.

so to do his part, the bastard makes lunch.

and he does it well.

so well that the wife's boss wants me to hook her up with a sammich.

but it's like this.

I also do the grocery shopping as well.

and normally, I'm a by the numbers kinda guy.

but with a hurricane (read: late summer sprinkle) coming last weekend, I went a little off mission.

bought some ribs.

bought a pack of bacon.

and we made the whole pack on Sunday to celebrate NOT dying in a flood (read: HAH) with the notion that whatever bacon we don't eat we'll "save".

this is not currently happening.

OK SIDEBAR: this is how he bastard throws down a sammich. straight up on the economical tip. what you do is buy a bag of trader joes ciabatta rolls because it's the most rolls you get for the money (8). I get a bag of pre cooked chicken breast from the self same store (because it's easy when you shop for everything at the same place).

I buy some cheese for filler. I used to get lo fat Swiss but the bastard is currently not in the business of giving a shit these days (read: DEMONS) so I've been getting pepper jack for me and fooling the wife with the lo fat Swiss (did you catch the name of the blog?).

lately I've gotten my hands on some barbecue sauce and that has been the spread of choice (side note: the wife gets pesto).

now what I do is rely on the toaster ovens in the mystery science kitchen area as they have the best toaster ovens in all the land. and I toast that bitch up.

there it is.

ANYWAY: The bacon. I have been feeding it into the sammich recipe this week. there will be no bacon leftover. and I will have some splainin to do Lucy when she finds out. but I can live with that. because… you know… bacon.

oh look. there is a glass of whiskey beside me. BAI!

—the bastard

…cycle

2011-08-31T00:08:00.001-04:00

that was twice.

twice tonight that two different illustrators have made light of the fact that the bastard is up at midnight.

answering email.

trying to get shit done.

you sir are a workaholic a new guy called me.

I've already convinced the other seasoned pro that I never sleep.

don't get me wrong.

I do after I get shit done.

and wait out the voices.

but you see,

I've become a victim of circumstances.

a self fulfilled prophecy.

a man with post traumatic stress disorder.

a goddam idiot too.

I let the toddler get to me when he tried to do me in.

it has me up at night.

like how Sunday nights kept me up at night a log time ago.

I've told me new boss about my circumstances and he says 'it's in the past mate'

but it ain't.

it's with me everyday and I can't let it go.

and I know for shy sure that it's not healthy.

doesn't make it go away anymore.

every night, I live the last 12 months over and over again and all I can do to drown it out is work.

then go home and work some more.

and relive it again and again and again.

stupid old man. stupid lucky old man.

my brother comes tomorrow and I feel relieved to have a break from my mental problems.

my only regret is that I can't stay out til 6am to exorcise these demons that come to me on my balcony every night to tell me I'm fired.

stupid fucking demons. please don't come to the gun show. I don't have it in me to hold it together around you. I may have to punch you in the face.

—the bastard

meat of the matter

2011-08-28T20:07:00.000-04:00

it's a good thing I brought my work laptop home with me.

because the bastard has NO idea when the 7 train will be up and running again.

—the bastard

…aftermath

2011-08-28T19:52:00.000-04:00

…and the bastard isn't speaking of the rolling stones album.

at the end of Borden avenue.

three blocks west of my apartment is the sole evidence of any of the mayors warnings about last night's storm.

I could jab and jest about mayor mike's crap command of the Spanish language and talk about how this was most hyped storm of century but I won't.

jersey took the hit for us kids.

as they so often do.

and yes, the promise of a hurricane always fills this empty month of news cycles which has pretty much been preoccupied with president barry's vacation.

shit like this is a godsend for a politician on the ropes.

but I digress.

here I am

drinking a beer on my balcony,

which has been swept clean by a big assed rain storm,

blown dry by 25 mph winds.

and I'm still grateful that this is all here as I sit in my beach chair watching the east river go by.

—the bastard

the bastard ain't a man to put the cart before the horse…

2011-08-28T08:46:00.000-04:00

… but I think the media is having us on

last night. the bastard sat in his living room with three fingers of rye on ice waiting for the world to end.

the news: there's a hurricane on yo!

the bastard: oh SNAP. rilly?!?

the news: yeah shiteyes. there's gonna be rain and shit and the east river is gonna run roughshod on your ass. and there's gonna be 100 mile an hour winds

the bastard: oh wow guy. I best shit my pants now

so there you have it. when I went to bed, there were saying 75 mph winds.

when the bastard woke up, the national weather service said 45 mph winds but the news is showing footage of the same block in Howard beach that flood when there's is any strong rain and saying 80 mph winds.

I'm seeing a discrepancy here.

stupid sensationalism. stop scaring the shit outta people.

—the bastard

assertions…

2011-08-16T23:10:00.000-04:00

as defined by wikipedia, 'gunpla' can be best described as 'the practice of building Gundam models, rather than the models themselves.'

this is what the bastard foes with his spare time.

I'm sure if people hung around with me, my hobby would be hanging around with people.

but people don't hang around me so I build robots and hang around them.

in my last place, I had no room for the robots and even less so when we were selling the apartment.

you know because people get frightened when they go apartment hunting and find otaku in the place.

it just stinks up the joint.

lately the wife allotted me some space for my gunpla so I've been mucking about building some models.

I started one before we moved out and finished it tonight. he's a companion piece to one I had built a year ago in my office.

what?!? I wanted to unwind during my lunch hour.

anyway, I realize that could never properly display any large number of my collection as they number in the over 75 category and are in various states of repair.

I may do a rotating exhibition given the chance but until that day arrives the bastard is content to use the space allotted for whatever.

besides, I have a new one to start on whenever I get started on it.

not to mention whatever I'll inevitably pick up at comic con this year.

shit. I have to find my flip camera for that.

—the bastard

…on lamentations

2011-08-10T20:16:00.000-04:00

the bastard used to have a pet lizard

his name was ivan.

he mostly kept to himself and I'd play him once in a great while.

because you know… he's a lizard.

he likes his alone time.

but I gave him away to a nice family in the Bronx.

and that's all I want to say on the matter.

oh that and I'm unhappy about it.

—the bastard

…on spare time

2011-08-10T08:54:00.000-04:00

normally the bastard doesn't have time to post about the commute.

it's usually 10 minutes

but

today there are mad delays

no express service. only local

I'd settle for a goddam train at the point regardless of it's orientation.

and every local is crowded.

oh well. go to hell

—the bastard

…on submissions

2011-07-31T00:49:00.000-04:00

… and I don't mean the sex pistols song

dear art director of gun magazine,

I am a freelance illustrator fluent in editorial and commercial work. My editorial clients have included U.S. News & World Report, Consumer Reports, Atlantic Monthly, The Los Angeles Times and The San Diego Union Tribune. Please take a moment to look over the attached samples of my work. Should you come across any assignments that you find compatible with my style, please contact me.

now, as a matter of course and more importantly, as a means of protecting folks from my vitriol, the bastard never answers these sort of notes from solicitors.

but my good friend 'stuff' who runs the art department for mystery science feels that one is doing both his book and the illustrator a grave disservice by NOT writing back. so in the spirit of this I decided to answer this and not send this to said illustrator.

dear illustrator,

i have looked at your sample and I realize that your style of pastels and cat illustrations more than likely never have a place in selling bullets in stores magazine as it is a business to business magazine for gun store owners and NOT. the Atlantic monthly. I would recommend that you seriously should look into the magazines you solicit as it feels to me that your style of solicitation is tantamount to the creepy guy at the singles bar who asks every girl in the bar for their phone number in the hopes of potentially getting at least one phone number in 400 solicitations. it quite frankly makes me feel less special and you know… kind of creeped out as we don't even run on a newsstand.

so going forward… not interested.

good luck.

and perhaps you should creep out less art directors.

good luck with all of the pastel hearts and stylized cats that apparently the Atlantic monthly loved oh so much. tah.

—the bastard

dried up…

2011-07-31T00:15:00.001-04:00

exhaustion is a hell of a good sadness suppressor.

case meet point.

last night was the boy's last day in new york for the summer.

which always leads to a great deal of heavy sadness for me.

and don't get me wrong. the bastard is sad.

but yesterday…

it also rained like the hammers from hell…

and this added up to best lucky delays at the jetblue terminal that came straight out of logans run.

and this had the boy and I waiting for frikkin ever for the airport to right itself.

the boy didn't get airborne until 11:30.

the bastard didn't get on the van wick until midnight.

and after such a long night, I sat down on my balcony to consult with doctor whiskey and have a good cry but, it never came.

there I sat in my lounge

looking out at the great view of the thorough borough and I was too exhausted to move.

and I just couldn't do anything.

it wasn't until this morning while i was putting the boy's pillows away that I muttered, 'see you next summer", that I welled up.

you see it's august but for you but, summer is over for me.

—the bastard

this weak in anime...

2011-07-20T13:48:00.003-04:00

Steins;Gate is rapidly becoming my favorite time travel show

at least until Doctor Who comes back this fall.

then all bets are off.

—the bastard

best use of action figures...

2011-07-20T13:46:00.000-04:00

...EVER

the beastie boys are old but, they are clever.

watch this now.

—the bastard

last weak in anime...

2011-07-20T13:43:00.000-04:00

wanted to put this up last week.

should have built a time machine to tell future me.

—the bastard

the bastard TOTALLY needs to get back to the gunpla

2011-07-20T00:14:00.001-04:00

tonight the bastard dug up a freebie he got when he picked up a copy of dengeki magazine.

1/810 ideon model that isn't all that challenging.

the bastard is just trying to make space.

I may be winding up black f91 after the boy goes home next week so I can deal with his absence.

until it becomes my norm again.

but I had done a little business with the builder last week and he had something for me to build.

something for the boy to build.

something for me. a match for my real grade.

getting a free model totally takes the sting out of pro Bono work for good friends.

and while I could use some pay work, I like doing the work anyway.

stretches the brain once in a bit.

that and the robots. I've been building for damn near 30 years and I have yet to learn ANY Japanese yet.

I should.

I'd like to go there one day.

I'd like to ride across the country too on a motorcycle.

see if I can get either done.

until then… it's gunpla

—the bastard

on catharsis…

2011-07-19T23:57:00.001-04:00

there's a reason the bastard doesn't discuss work on the blog.

well, there are several reasons the bastard doesn't discuss work on the blog.

one of them is, too many details… the closer you are to trouble for yourself.

another one is, that because of this I could never share some of the conversations I have for fear of frying my ass.

I had one such conversation today and I felt vindicated for what I felt about my last year.

I would rather not say more. I'd rather just be grateful about it.

—the bastard

the new way

2011-07-14T23:49:00.002-04:00

it's been awful rough of late.

just the planning aspects here go a little pear shaped more often and the bastard finds himself doubling his efforts.

and when he is at the beck and call of others domestically speaking, he brings work home with him.

which has been a great time saver this time around.

but yesterday afternoon

after running pretty hard on all 8 for weeks

I finished what I was doing.

and it made me extremely uncomfortable.

and after what can be only described as me trying to crawl out of my own skin for five minutes, I walked over to a coworker to ask her if there was anything I could pick up.

after which the storm began anew and I became comfortable again in a busy world.

and now I'm taking a day off which may very well feel like 24 hours of me trying to climb out of my own skin.

—the bastard

24 hour party people…

2011-07-05T23:00:00.001-04:00

…sans the party

since all of the bog changes in the office,

the workload has changed

and the bastard is losing sleep.

I squandered a perfectly good weekend playing catchup on work.

and I'm feeling a little burnt from it.

gotta get ahead of the curve.

at least the book looks good.

—the bastard

…on the simple things

2011-06-27T23:51:00.000-04:00

the bastard never looks a gift horse in the mouth

wait.

scratch that.

the bastard ALWAYS looks a gift horse in the mouth.

it's a deep seated issue he needs to work on with his parole officer.

anyway it's like this.

I really like living in the liquid city.

nice view.

nice commute.

better quality of life.

but it ain't cheap.

so after almost two months of paying upwards of 24 bucks a bag every week not to mention the hefty tab for dry cleaning.…

our washing machine finally arrived and you guessed it bitches

I did me some laundry.

now if I could only get a handle on the job, everything would be easy peasy.

but that's tomorrow's problem.

hrm

wait

that's my problem in like 10 minutes now

god dammity damn

—the bastard

the bastard doesn't really mean to sound optimistic…

2011-06-26T00:46:00.000-04:00

…but there's just something about sitting out on the balcony with 4 fingers of whiskey with a gentle breeze that makes him think,

"shit doesn't suck so much"

now all I need is respectable recipe for bul gogi tacos and shit would pretty much be complete for me for now.

what'd ya want some piss and vinegar?

ok.

I got lost coming and going from a birthday party in Yonkers.

Yonkers is good and all, but I can no longer trust my gps to do the right thing by me.

I mean seriously why does it make me go past a right turn on 31st so I van make a left on 32nd so Ivan make a left onto 31st?

what the hell is that shit?

oh

wait

bul gogi.

—the bastard

…on the wind and distant shores

2011-06-22T00:40:00.000-04:00

"Lo there do I see my father. Lo there do I see my mother and my sisters and my brothers. Lo there do I see the line of my people, back to the beginning. Lo, they do call to me, they bid me take my place among them, in the Halls of Valhalla, where the brave may live...forever."

as the wind rushed down the stairs of the 7 station at vernon-jackson and it hit me in the face.

and then the bastard was at 30 minutes from the north Irish border at the grainen of aliech

and the wind told him that he would have been 88 today.

and he'd be looking for a wide brimmed hat.

grandpa was quirky that way. sleep well father of my father.

and I will see you at the end of all things.

I'll bring the whiskey.

—the bastard

there is something inherently wrong…

2011-06-21T01:35:00.002-04:00

…with vegan jerky

i mean seriously.

jerky is supposed to be made of meat.

not… um… vegan… stuff

unless of course it's made of real vegans

in whichcase, someone at my store is getting arrested.

this is the sort of thing that only an affluent society could spawn.

vegan fair that maybe looks and maybe tastes like the food they foreswear for ethical reasons.

hell… these ethical reasons wouldn't exist if there wasn't enough to eat in this country.

in the northwest territory, they eat raw freshly killed seal because that's what's for dinner up there.

there is no disaffected teenage Inuit saying, "ah hay ma. I don't eat seal. that shit is unethical and cruel to the seal."

you know why, because there is no fucking vegan seal substitute.

that said, if you wanna be an ethical vegan, the bastard can direct you to a dosa shoppe. but if you are going to buy vegan meat substitutes, you're fooling yourself.

meat meat meat meat meat meat MEAT.

that is all

—the bastard

the bastard is givin that stuff out to ALL. those graffiti guys

2011-06-21T01:24:00.001-04:00

…or

…things the bastard liked about 5pointz

…and

…THING the bastard DIDN'T like about 5pointz

so on Friday night,

the wife days to me, "bastard, you like teh graffiti, yes?"

"why yes wife… I likes teh graffiti"

so she schemes to me on having us walk up to the graffiti installation known as 5pointz which is STUPID touristy these days but the bastard has accepted this as a known quantity.

that way, I can digest the bullshit well enough.

so I agree and we take the family up there. the boy hasn't seen reasonable tagging since we were at the river wall in at Louis in 2009 and we were much more preoccupied with eating cold Arthur Bryants at the time.

so we headed up.

and while at first blush a family of four with a stroller looked out of place at an abandoned building covered in some fair to excellent work, the bastard has to say that he was a fucking breath of fresh (F-R-E-S-H. fresh fresh fresh fresh fresh) air compared to the pack of wild kuwaii girls and there attempts at myspace style self portraiture in front of the graffiti.

a breath of fresh air compared to the eurotrash who asked my son to get out of the way of "thaa peece" he wanted to photograph.

and a goddam sight better than the black turtleneck crowd who ogled the same stuff they scorned 10 years ago when this stuff was the symbol of urban blight rather than that of urban renewal.

but what took the cake for me was this…

a monster truck pulls up the block

with the monster logo on it and a bunch of chuckleheads swarm upon the place in monster energy drink shirts on.

and a couple walk by and the man says to the woman , "the attention to detail is incredible".

"yeah", she concurs and then I kind of went back in time for a second.

I was at the Greene street gallery with art school and we're looking at a crappy sculpture of an apple core made of plaster and the guy in the black turtleneck leans over to the girl half his age and says in a throaty voice, "it's so dynamic. it's very indicative of the fall of man."

meanwhile back in 2011, the bastard is getting a laugh at how all of these white folk who would have never given this a second thought 10-15 years ago sees this stuff I grew up around as full of attention to detail.

don't get me wrong, it was some dope looking examples of wild stour circa the mid to late 80's and definitely more evolved but I would never quote anything out of artspeak to elevate it to anything more than what it is…

graffiti.

and I wouldn't paint three murals for any of the ass this guy was trying to pull down. unless you like that sort of thing.

oh well, it was still good to look at and I made burgers later on.

—the bastard

new and improved…

2011-06-21T00:14:00.000-04:00

it seems that around 7:30,

the boy and I are excused into the outside world to hang out at the park while my wife puts the baby to bed.

and the bastard is finding,

a few rotten apples withstanding,

that the parklife here in el ay sí is decidedly better than it has been in previous places of residence.

sure mad square park was a goddam mile better than pot deals out in the open in Braddock park but,

there's something about watching your son play tag and tossing a football around in a park with a view of the river and the setting sun on the longest day of the year that says

"you may have chosen wisely for a change shiteyes"

not bad.

—the bastard

…the dearth

2011-06-15T23:42:00.000-04:00

the bastard has been spreading himself thin of late.

I've been taking the cheap route to blogging on twitter and a fun little app called instagram.

mostly because I'm short on tales these days.

and what I could spin a tale or two on may not be right for here.

better to keep it secret

keep it safe.

also, there's been a dearth of material from my other partners in the blogosphere.

god dam I hate terms like that.

like 'synergy'

anyway, most of my usual peeps I'd read up on have been silent so there has been little impetus of late.

and a short commute

and a relatively stable life.

makes it light on material.

perhaps it's better to not live in interesting times for now.

—the bastard

nothing is easy…

2011-06-15T23:35:00.000-04:00

…but nothing is gonna stop me from trying to make it easier

the bastard thinks that he become affected.

is it an age thing?

I don't know. but the last year was challenging and I've come out of a bad bit of business relatively intact.

got to keep my job.

got a new lease on my career.

got a new place.

and yet, I can't seem to unwind anymore.

it's better but, often I find myself still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I'm now the same as a coworker who had told me that they haven't been comfortable since the great cull of three years back.

it's a long time to sweat it but, here I am, waiting for it.

every night, I sit out on the balcony now enjoying the night air like shit is gonna go all pear shaped tomorrow and it ain't healthy.

but for now, I'm feeling comfy in my comfy chair, drinkin a beer and watching the river.

waiting for the other shoe.

—the bastard

…on company

2011-06-12T00:38:00.000-04:00

quite by chance…

and quite like some manner of secret record release party…

the bastard has taken visitors to his new spot.

I had forgotten what having company over felt like.

it's nice to have a reason to have beer in the fridge that doesn't involve sitting outside by yourself.

—the bastard

you know… I take that back

2011-06-05T23:15:00.000-04:00

enough with the maudlin.

this afternoon, the boy and I were headed to the park to hang out.

since he got here, I wanted him to get the chance to play with kids and we've had no luck.

and by no luck, the bastard means that mouthy hard luck kids have been coming down from rougher parts of town to get all 'street' with my wide eyed son from the southwest and he comes away wondering why they assholes.

anyway, we're crossing the street and I see the waffle truck.

THE MOTHER EFFING WAFFLE TRUCK

I ran, not walked to the truck and the boy had no clue what just came over his old man as he said, 'boy, you don't understand. it's the mother effin WAFFLE TRUCK'

so I split a waffle with him and a hot chocolate and we ate it at a table by the gantries.

and that was my birthday present to myself. because it was the first time I had waffle truck with the boy. and it was the first time the boy had real Belgianesque hot chocolate.

and that was pretty special to me.

so whadda ya want. more whining? I van only muster up so much. go to sleep now jerks

—the bastard

you never really get what you want

2011-06-05T23:04:00.000-04:00

the bastard is actually a pretty ungrateful guy it seems

he turned 41 today.

and while the virus has informed him that over 70 people have wished him happy birthday on the virus, he's out on his balcony wondering when the last time it was that he had a truly happy birthday.

don't get me wrong, any birthday where I didn't wake up dead is a fucking gravy birthday but I can't remember when it was last when I had a storybook happy birthday with presents and shit.

where I wasn't drunk.

when I got something I always wanted wrapped in a big box with a bow on it and i was genuinely wide eyed with anticipation at it's contents.

nope. can't do it.

maybe it's just the whole getting old thing.

maybe it's just because birthdays aren't meant to be special when you get past a certain age. because you want to make sure that your kids feel special.

yeah. I think that may be it.

but I digress.

on the virus, a guy I did a triple bill with 20 years ago shares a birthday with me.

we did a show 20 years ago tonight. I turned 21. and I was doing a show with my bad at the time.

that was kind of special. so maybe it wasn't wrapped up in a bow but a jack Daniels and coke 20 years ago was the first present I bought myself at the beginning of the end of all things special.

maybe I'll by myself a new bike next year. I hear one rumbling away as it leaves the midtown tunnel ambling towards points east.

that'd be nice. you ungrateful old man.

lucky ungrateful old man.

—the bastard

…on therapy

2011-06-02T23:27:00.000-04:00

recently I bought a lounge chair

and I face it in this direction daily. so the vastRd sits and stares out to the river and

it makes me feel less stabby. this in turn puts me in a quandary.

I'm starting to run out of angry and the bastard feels it may jeopardize this special relationship we have.

then again, I may stab someone tomorrow so, who knows?

—the bastard

there's something to be said for an art school education

2011-05-25T23:52:00.001-04:00

so I've been spending way too much time in ikea of late.

why?

because the bastard is not the sort of man who buys his furniture from raymore and flanigans.

so shut up.

ikea is a far cry from hand me downs and cardboard boxes.

and bedsides, the boy is coming in for the summer.

I need my home to look proper so he doesn't ask questions like, "hey dad, why the hell do you have such crap furniture in such a swanky apartment?"

actually hell and swanky are a far cry from the boy's vocabulary.

and he's a great kid. he'd just ask if we could go to 7-11 and then when I have to break the bad news to him that there isn't one in long island city, he'll just beat me with a crowbar.

anyways, while I was there, I almost careened my daughters carriage (yeah I push the carriage…wanna fight about it?) into this little blond kid who was doing circles around a support beam.

and then I saw his dad.

and his dad shared a studio with me in college.

his dad used to be my business partner.

his dad was the best man at my first wedding.

and his dad was there at ground zero of the start of my career which almost never happened.

we had some awkward small talk. I met his kids. his wife politely smiled and we went our separate ways.

and I was bummed.

I miss being able to throw a few drinks back and discuss Modigliani with people.

my art school education is languishing these days.

and I wouldn't mind being able to talk shit about it again one day.

maybe not in ikea. maybe in some crap bar that exists in the back of my mind from 15 years ago.

hrm. the other guy I split the studio with lives in Howard beach. I should go find his ass and chat about the finer points of how we ended up where we ended up.

but then again, you can't go back in time, can you?

—the bastard

…on cycles

2011-05-25T23:32:00.001-04:00

"this shit runs in cycles", the bastard says to himself.

no really.

I said this to myself on the train this morning.

you move into a hood.

everything is shiny and optimistic

then shit ensues.

it happened in fohi

it happened in the reverse in manhattan.

and the cycle seemed to start up.

you see, we moved into a new building and in the back is an old building that used to be a bar.

and it turns out it's gonna be a bar again.

so the bastard is thinking it's 2000-2008 on metropolitan all over again.

I decide that I don't want it to be like that again.

also, the guy who is going to run the place is doing a build blog.

so rather than let history repeat itself, I decide a better man (the better man I want to be) will ask upfront what's gonna happen.

and he responded.

turns out he's a reasonable guy.

doesn't want to make the hood mad. he wants to be a good neighbor. because he wants the hood to come drink beer at his new place. this seems like a foreign concept with relation to my experience in forest hills.

the bastard is optimistic about this. he likes when a businessman wants to work with the community.

be a good neighbor.

not just some guy trying to turn a buck.

nothing like Danny was.

and as I sit out on the balcony overlooking this new bar, sipping bourbon, I wonder if Danny still walks the earth.

karma dealt him a bad hand after his restaurant closed and I'm not altogether unhappy about it.

I just hope the fates don't give me pancreatic cancer for being a dick to my neighbors.

—the bastard

this weak in anime

2011-05-20T12:07:00.000-04:00

well i have NO IDEA who else would.

the bastard just got finished watching 50 episodes of depressing dirge fest tegami bachi letter bee and i initially liked it except for it's

depressing

full of unresolved story lines

and the protagonist cries his ASS off in every episode.

i mean seriously, the bastard likes sad but this kid cried so often in fifty episodes that i had become desensitized to the depressing story line of a world that exists with no daylight save for an artificial sun that subsist on the souls of the living.

so if you'd like to get depressed, have a watch

—the bastard

…a sense of place

2011-05-13T09:46:00.001-04:00

hey rube,

I don't know if the bastard has mentioned this but

I NEVER in a million years ever thought I'd end up here.

sitting on a balcony.

my balcony.

drinking a beer and wondering how the hell I got here.

actually I'm wondering if the pain in my legs will ever go away from all of this running around.

my legs are screaming.

but I'll settle for drinking a beer and thinking about the sense of place I'll have sitting on my ass and looking at the empire state building from the edge of queens.
doesn't suck

—the bastard

soon

2011-05-03T00:00:00.001-04:00

sitting in the chaos of boxes and crap

the bastard thinks that a life of tumult is the life for he.

we had a massive upheaval last week in the office that I can't talk about right now.

but, it made me very aware of my place in this world.

it also made me grateful for my place in the world.

my place of tumult

in a sea of boxes

in the dark

waiting for to go.

to go across the river towards home.

my new home

my old home.

across the river.

getting close.

the bastard has never been all that grateful. but it's time for a change.

thank you.

you know who you are.

—the bastard

…on closure

2011-05-02T23:52:00.001-04:00

I remember that I should have been home that day and I wasn't

I remember that when I did get home everything around me smelled like burning airplane gas.

I remember that it smelled like that for days and I was in queens.

I remember that I got a cup of coffee with jay zee after parking the car near church street and I took a wrong turn and there it was. still on fire three months later.

I remember taking my relatives from Texas down there the following summer and telling them about that cup of coffee and a lack of understanding being in their eyes.

I remember that because of him and his plans, sidney's father is dead and while they moved on, it doesn't change the fact that sidney's dad will never see her grow up.

and 40 minutes of black ops that ended in a tap tap will never change the fact that I remember these things.

and maybe one day old age will take these things from my head.

but I hope not.

—the bastard

…on the give back

2011-05-02T00:36:00.001-04:00

the bastard has something stuck in his craw.

on many occasions when I meet up with the dwarf ( and I haven't in quite some time) he tells me things about my college professors.

you see he works at my old college. and the dwarf tells me that.

my graphic design teacher was a photographer and he picked up graphic design just in case the handwriting on the wall was true.

and that none of the graphic design teachers at my old school have ever worked for a large company.

so in essence, they are teaching young minds to grow up to be freelancers who have no idea how to find work or work with a team.

and this sticks in my craw.

the bastard also has a guilty conscience.

he could have worked harder in college.

he could have worked less days.

drank less.

could have slept in his studio less and worked more.

so he gives back.

I proctor this test that kids in my old high school take to fill a requirement for their art program.

and while it won't make or break them, it helps me sleep with a clear conscience.

well that and a manhattan or two.

but, inevitably one of these kids tells me a should be a teacher.

and i tell them that when this business I am in spits me out, I may take it under advisement.

but the fact of the matter is

I curse too much.

I'm impatient.

I talk too much about bullshit and less about the course material.

hrm. maybe I can be a teacher.

or a hobo.

—the bastard

…on winging it

2011-04-23T14:09:00.001-04:00

the bastard has some generous friends at the office.

and once in a great while some wild game falls into his lap.

sometimes it's just being in the right time and place for it too.

this time around, I had some pheasant I needed to get out of the freezer before it became a thing. which would then become a thing wasted.

and the bastard hates wasting things.

so when I found a recipe for pheasant banh mi in the "other" magazine's February issue I decide this was how the pheasant going to get done.

truth to tell it was more prep than cooking.

took some meats. don't get squeamish on me jerks. meaT isn't something that comes in a styrofoam container all the time.

added a jalapeño but I would have preferred a scotch bonnet.

zip zip zip. scare the crap out of the baby with the sheer screaming power of the food processor

make patties.

30 minutes at 300° and it's all good in the hood.

I also hooked up a sriacha mayonnaise to go with. 3-5 tablespoons to a half cuppa mayo.

and boom goes the dynamite. turns out that this bird while short on meat was the gift that kept on giving in the portion department.

on a side note, i've been keeping up with Sherman since the korilla truck day and I think I'm going to be picking his brain about food things asian with game. might be an inneretsing endeavor

the bastard is thinking about venison bulgoggi now. tah

—the bastard

today's weather report

2011-04-17T17:10:00.001-04:00

tut tut.

looks like ewwwww.

—the bastard

i get along

2011-04-17T16:41:00.001-04:00

last night it rained like the hammers of hell out.

and it made for a cabin feverish saturday

today was much nicer

went out to find out that the strand only buys back books on every day BUT Sunday.

the wife makes the nice suggestion that we drop them during the week when it's nice out.

you see, it was a hahd winter so, the presence of sunlight and heatwaves in the 50's have inspired us to wolf down our dinners and out the bebe in a stroller and look across the river at our future.

which brings me to the other side of the river.

went to the build today to measure the closets.

the wife wants to have a California closet style closet only without the $10,000 price tag.

and much to the bastard's surprise, we have a refrigerator.

we've been in the special bonus 3 month long closing process that was Taylor made for my tolerance level and we haven't had a fridge in the model we're buying until today.

or Wednesday

or whenever the hell they got the damn delivery.

it makes everything a little more real.

the kind of real I can come to like.

not like that "fake" real I wake up with in the middle of the night when the voices come.

—the bastard

there is a place in our fair city...

2011-04-15T18:12:00.001-04:00

…where the bastard found himself a frikkin elk burger

yeah

that's right bitches!

while walking to dukes the other night the bastard came across an awning he had never seen which promised three things the bastard loves that aren't whiskey

burgers

shakes

beer

so he said to himself, "self, we will eat lunch there right fucking soon".

so in his sooner than expected fashion, the bastard came home too drunk to make lunch.

such is the style of drinking with the old hood.

so next day there he was reeding up a bacon cheeseburger with onion rings.

and then he heard the magical words

"what kind of meat do you want?"

"what?!?"

"what kind of meat do you want guy?"

overtaken by options of this magnitude was almost too much for my dukearita riddled head to handle

"whatcha got", hoping to hell human wasn't an option as I might have taken it

"beef, bison, lamb, ostrichch, turkey, elk…"

"that one"

"what?"

"that one. and a black and white shake", cause if you don't go big, go the hell home.

and it was glorious.

elk is a magical meat that doesn't taste like chicken.

it tastes like elk.

it's kind of like beef…

but not like beef…

and better.

it's the bastard's favoritest of all the meats.

that and caribou.

go out and get some. now. not later.

—the bastard

scenes from the end of an era

2011-04-15T17:50:00.001-04:00

the bastard's time on this island started with a bike crash on a damp February night in 2009.

which culminated in a surreal evening in the elmhurst hospital emergency room.

that was my last night as a queens resident.

in a hospital that had become more known for where inmates from riker's island go when someone stabs them with something they made in the machine shop.

this later turned into a whirlwind of baby preperation.

baby birth.

and making my summers with the boy work for myself, the boy, and the family in 340 square feet of alternative family fun.

we had some laughs.

and we had some times where it wasn't so goddam funny.

but we're getting towards the end of our time here on the rock.

and soon we'll begin our sojourn across the east river, back to the borough which is thorough.

and like my initial crossing into manhattan, the bastard finds his crossing back to the hunk of mud he was born on to be equally bittersweet.

so I've been popping off pictures.

sneaking off on secret food missions to sample fare I may not make the time for anymore.

and thinking hard on my brief time in this manhattan

'the city' as those who are old school call it.

nah kids, manhattan is just part of this fair Gotham and don't ever forget that as you old rusticos look over the east river towards the spires of the island.

know this, you kids from oklasota and wiscotucky as you pile into my city that we are five boroughs not a city surrounded by new yawkahs. it's a greater whole

and the bastard is gonna take pictures while he gets all nostalgic of walking these streets at night.

with his kids

with his wife

with a big assed whiskey on.

not necessary at the same time.

but nostalgic either way.

—the bastard

…on travesties

2011-04-09T15:29:00.001-04:00

OH GOD! OH GOD! OH GOD! OH GOD! OH GOD! OH GOD! OH GOD! OH GOD! OH GOD! OH GOD! OH GOD! OH GOD! OH GOD! OH GOD! OH GOD! OH GOD! OH GOD! OH GOD! OH GOD! OH GOD! OH GOD! OH GOD! OH GOD! OH GOD!

WHY?!? WHY?!? WHY?!? WHY?!? WHY?!? WHY?!? WHY?!? WHY?!? WHY?!? WHY?!? WHY?!? WHY?!? WHY?!? WHY?!? WHY?!? WHY?!? WHY?!? WHY?!? WHY?!? WHY?!?

—the bastard

get in the van…

2011-04-09T15:21:00.001-04:00

…in which our hero raises his own bar on street meat

ok, here's the situation,

may parents went away for a weeks vacation.

but I digress. the bastard has gotten into paying attention to food again.

mobile food.

street meat.

part one, piqued: this comes from checking out no reservations after it had gotten popular.

the bastard didn't like it first time around. it seemed too forced and I though the "a cooks tour" show that food network dropped was a littler more sentimental at the time.

and at the time, the bastard wanted sentimental, not forced lou reed of the food set stuff.

but these days, I was looking for something else in this age of crap economics and lack of vacation fun.

and bourdain spoke much about street food.

part two, the seed: there's this guy I went to junior high school who I'm friends with on foursquare.

he kept checking in at this truck called korilla BBQ.

at the time, I had been going to the wafel truck and have been loving it. but I needed to see about this korilla truck.

Korean BBQ.

no.

Korean BBQ burritos my friend.

picture this. Korean BBQ pork on a wrap with

bacon kimchi fried rice

with veg, cheese, sauce.

and that's your burrito.

part three, opportunity: another old friend of mine from small times was working in manhattan this week. Sherman. and he did some time on the Korean peninsula. and he has three kids to show for it.

we were looking to meet up anyways so I suggested the korilla truck so we could at least chat while online.

hashed out some smalltalk while waiting on a line that ran around the corner on park and 24th until it was our time to get our repast… the porkinator.

it was glorious.

so much so, I burst into my editor in chief's office over it.

we haven't had big talks of late but he was there so he looks up mildly curious and inconvenienced and asks what's up.

"totally unrelated to the book, I just had the greatest burrito ever".

now he cracked a smile because he was on board with this.

and I told him of my lunch.

and apparently, he's a big fan of kimchi.

asked me to let him know if I was going next Friday and to hit him up for it.

hell, not a bad way to kick off the weekend.

—the bastard

…needs to be done

2011-04-06T22:00:00.001-04:00

the bastard is on a budget.

so he's been in the bidness of brown bagging it.

so when he ran out of foodstuff, he decided to rock it at carl's.

don't get me wrong. I like to not spend money but when I do,

the bastard likes himself a cheesesteak.

and sometimes it needs to be done

—the bastard

…on office space

2011-04-01T01:43:00.002-04:00

the bastard leads an exciting life.

no really.

he does.

so much so, he buys a bottle of whiskey on a thursday night and proceeds to do his laundry.

only, there was an oddity tonight.

no. not the whiskey.

it was the woman working on her computer in the laundry room.

now I had no idea that we leased out office space in our bread baking/ roach bait smelling basement

or that the laundry room was also our corporate suites.

but, this wrecked my clothes washing rhythm.

yeah.

that's all I got. go die.

—the bastard