video killed the radio star

Here it is—bam— the ol' motherfucker writing his first entry on the new digs, the brand new 13" macbook. It is technically the first computer I've ever owned.

I was introduced to Macs via St. John's Universtiy's The TORCH, the official student newspaper of SJU, of which I was a writer, a sports editor and managing editor, although I was basically the editor in chief since JB spent most of his time acting more as a figurehead and left me to deal with the Dylans (loved the guy but he just never could lay out his own news section) and the Schads (Joe Schad, if you watch ESPN is a contirbuter to the networks college football coverage, an insider if you will, and yes, i taught him everything he knows, and I reguarly embarassed him in front of his woman on the basketball courts on Utopia Pkwy and 73rd ave.) of the world at 5 am. The bastard (aka my brother, the bastard) let me use his for writing and email at his apartment until the nice lady and him bought one for my parents which continues to reside in the QV mo headquarters to this day. Since I've been in purgatory I've been forced to work on a windows computer, which you know is correctly represented in the latest Apple comercials with the dude from "Dodgeball."

After calling the Chairman a couple of weeks back to see if it was ok to talk to his mother, (she divorced Uncle Drew, the Chairman's dad and my Godfather), he offered the opportunity to do some copy writing for his clients, what the bastard (aka you would know the bastard if you saw him) "devils work", and i accepted, so through the bastard I'm on the chairman's payroll.

—I don't consider it the devil's work cause i don't believe in the devil. I say I'm working for the man, and if you want my feelings on that, watch the last 10 minutes of SLC Punk, there's a pretty good explanation for my actions, cause I don't have time to get into my Thomas Jefferson—fight the power spiel.—

Anyway, while in the NY for EKG's and fire, I bought this laptop, Bunx, named after the immortal words of the Thrilla. I just didn't realize how much of a hastle it would be to get my shit together with this computer. I'm not the most savvy computer guy, I can rock Quark and micro-word, and a little photo shop, but trying to get used to being the guy who has to actually take care of said machine has been trying. I mean yeah, one year warranty and my brother can help with diagnostic problems but god damn it i dropped $150 on a bluetooth phone in order to link it to bunx so I could have internet access anywhere I could get a phone signal which is basically everywhere except for the bathroom on Bowman's beach on Sanibel Island (it did work in Waves, NC (Hatteras Island) staring at the Atlantic Ocean) and it can't be tethered to my machine for that purpose, at least not in normal means. The geek who had sold me the phone the night before as well as unlimited internet access and the cutie tried in vain to get it to work, but the more they tried the more futile the mission seemed. I went home and called Apple to see what they could do, and i was told that "Apple does not support what your trying to do." I almost thought Jobs and a crew of stoned out Michael Douglas look-a-likes from "Falling Down" were going to bust down my door, take bunx away and bury me 20 feet underground in a dungeon outside of Sacramento. At this point already frustrated from the failure, the amount of money I laid out for bunx and the phone and the added stress that comes with paying bills by the end of the month with three lost days of pay (my trip to NY did not come with sick or personal days and save my whole one week of vacation for my drive for Christmas) I get a call from the bastard (aka the bastard with the bad timing) who proceeds to bring my ire to the boiling point.

—It's not his fault, completely, you have to apreciate the history between him and I. Truth is, he can yammer on about anything, forever, that's just one of his super powers, whatever, I'm more of a short and sweet conversationalist, especially at times like this.—

After exploding for five minutes I found space in my rattled skull for some clarity, and decided to pay for a month of hot spot use from T-Mobile and made my way to the Cingular Store to tell the cutie and geek (who were both helpful and valiant in there efforts to tether my phone to bunx) about my dealings with Apple and to cancel my internet deal with cingular. The cutie told me she meets with a group that discusses things of this nature and she would get back to me after doing some research on the subject. So indeed, cooler heads prevailed and this mofo may have the hook up with a cute nerd, the mofo has never had one of those. She told me my computer scares her, is that a come-on?

Well so went my first foray into what the bastard calls 21 first century computing. Fuck it, gimme' an abacus.

mofo

EAA (Extra Added Attraction): Yes, that is a New York Post, and yes, man is still biting off wife's nose. It's a 25 year-old inside joke—you dont' have to get it.

...dearth

hell is round the corner where i shelter.
isms and schisms, were living on a skelter
if you believe i'll deceive common sense says you are thief
let me take you down the corridors of my life.

—tricky "hell is round the corner"

so it's that time again.

the time where the bastard loses sleep.

when the bastard has his busy season.

when the bastard does the devils work.

when the bastard crams tons of magazine pages out the door.

and then loses his cool and breaks shit.

apparently, i noticed that this is also the time of year that i keep regurgitating lyrics from tricky's catalog of work. i don't know what it is about him but, it always illustrates how i'm feeling when the bastard is in it. up to his eye balls in work. i'm never going to sleep again . at least not until february.

so what i'm saying is,

it's going to be a little thin for a while.

but, look for me jumping through a plate glass window near you. right before i cut your throat.

—the bastard

feet up...

...vegas next.


so this is a little piece i like to call still life with feet up and men holding big fish.

the bastard is done with the pre builds and on with the packing for vegas.

hot damn!

woke up trucked.

came to work that way.

and i'm going to take 5 minutes to catch my breath.

follwed by a healthy serving of the devils work and back into the shit.

fantastic.

—the bastard

remiss

sorry kids.

the bastard has been remiss in his duties (heh heh...doody).

i spent this week putting together my feature well.

what's a feature well?

well young shiteyes, let me tell you what a feature well is. you see, a feature well is that really nice looking section of the magazine that you breeze past all of the shitty looking parts with the words on them. it's kind of like the sears roebuck catalog but, with guns.

then again, i think sears roebuck used to sell guns too. and motorcycles. but that was a simpler time. but i digress,

i was working on the well. and the bastard likes it to look good. and i also have a ton of the devils work to do as part of my stay out of a refrigerator box program which works in tandem with the bastard's not dying program. here's to hoping they work.

—the bastard

...on the devil's due

so for the last two nights the bastard has been out and about which has kept me from doing the devils work for the artist. you see, the bastard's company is up on the block and that has created a whole lot of uncertainty around the office. so after the "official" announcement, i walk into the editor's office and we discuss it which concludes in the decision to have a staff outing to the bar. 4 gin and tonics later, i get the call from scoop to meet her for drinks. so 4 margarita's later, the bastard is fit to be tied. i roll home and thank god that i had the presence of mind to fall into a cab when i got back to craptastic queens.

flash forward: spent wednesday night at an event with susie kansas. it's like a networking event only everyone is really nice. the bastard loosens up and actually manages to not fall on his face. i could even say i was charming but hell, you're asking me, what did you expect? anyway chicago jerkface shows up only to be a lackluster wingman but who could blame him, he wanted to eat. so we got steak frites. well "i" did. i decided that when i go out to eat with jerkface, i will refer to whatever i am eating as the "grass is greener platter" due to the fact that anything i am eating looks better to him than what he's eating.

flash forward: last night, no plans. time to give the devil his due and i take care of it while watching a bridge too far. this runs into dinner and yet another airing fo enemy of the state. tv's just on for background noise but, i think i've seen this movie almost as much as i've seen "top gun" and "dirty dancing". work gets done by 11:30 but i have to fix it after the treadmill (you see, i'm trying real hard to NOT die). finally, i'm done at 1AM. 1:30 i get drunk texted by scoop. now i'm up. til 3.

flash forward: i slept through the alarm but got up at a decent hour to eat breakfast. only problem is, i poured orange juice into my cornflakes. yes, the bastard has finally exhausted himself enough that he poured orange juice into his cereal. not to be discouraged, i grab a strainer and flip the bowl right into it draining out what was probably 2 or 3 shotglasses worth of orange juice. dumped the frosted flakes back into the bowl and ate my breakfast. came in and sang "step right up" to left hand rob. you know, i see the brick wall coming, but i can't stop the train. chugga chugga, shiteyes!

—the bastard

...on that holiday hoohah

really, the bastard is just testing out his blogger widget for quick and easy posting (it's post-tastic).

either way, we're in the holiday home stretch and the bastard has loose ends to tie up but, the devils work has been concluded for the holiday season.

tough season. tough year.

more to come.

—the bastard

...feeble

got off the plane at 6:30 am.

didn't sleep a wink.

hungry enough to kill and eat the cab driver who i was stuck with on the fucking van wyck for an hour.

hell, i could dig up robert moses' corpse and eat IT if it was time efficient enough.

but it ain't.

so upon getting home, the bastard has breakfast, then goes to bed.

an hour later, left hand rob calls up to tell me that somethings wrong with the cover. now, my head hurts. problem gets solved and it's back to bed.

got up at 4pm.

got to bed at 2am after a bout of the devils work.

my life hurts.

so that said, i have more to say about my travels but, it's going to come later. much later when my head isn't covered in the fog of exhaustion.

—the bastard

...on representin'

so i got this text message from the artist last night and i didn't know what to make of it, i was trying to get some sleep. anyway when i spoke to him this morning (you see, i'm doing the devils work for him), he explained that last night on the mtv vmas, ll cool j said,

"the q borough is thorough"

ll grew up in queens. way to give it back to the peeps james.

—the bastard