…the dearth

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

…on therapy

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

off mission…

parenting is one of life's great equalizers

it is also one of life's great ironies.

you're always told that you're going to grow up to be just like your mother or your father.

and the bastard doesn't know which one he falls more in line with.

because neither of his parents grew up to sit alone in the dark while drinking whiskey and watching anime and complaining to the Internet about the whole lot of it.

my brother would tell me I'm more like my mother because I'm more of a reactionary.

more full of gesture and loud talk over others.

more in you business…because…well I'm in your business.

make your peace with it. the bastard has.

but I was thinking how my own kids will turn out for starters.

you see, the little girl has become an early riser.

a demander of things.

this doesn't sit well with my late night whiskey drinking and truth to tell is the young lady has to start sleeping in more often or shit's gonna go badly

mostly for me.

but on Sunday it was raining.

and the wife and I are in the midst of a big move

with big paperwork

and 350 square feet makes for big cases of cabin fever.

so upon her highness' afternoon nap I explain to the wife that I was going for a walk because if I don't shake off my cabin fever, there was going to be fucking murders.

so I set out into the pour.

which let up actually for my hour outside ( I set a time limit to be fair).

and I went in search for lunch.

now when cabin fever sets in, the solution to what ails me is always comfort food.

you see, by and large, the bastard gave up cigarettes and he doesn't use booze as a crutch.

he uses it as a tasty beverage instead.

so he relies on comfort food to take the blues away.

or the blahs.

or the "I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU ALLs"

so headed to dukes and without a menu I got me blackened chicken sandwich and a dukearita.

because that's what the bastard finds comfortable.

my time on this rock is growing short and I know I can come back any time to enjoy these things

but it won't be the same for me as I can't just roll out of bed in the middle of the night and get a banh mi sammich ( unless of course I find a place that has) from my local spot.

so I'd like to spend this remaining time enjoying these simple things I like about the rock I live on.

clocks a tickin' shiteyes, make the most of your time.

—the bastard

crack in the armor

so we're finally taking the plunge.

looking for a new place in earnest.

and today couldn't have been a worse house hunting day.

the lic wasn't wearing it's best face.

and the open houses were wack.

I hope shit works out. or perhaps it's gonna be Brooklyn where the bastard lays his head for the next 10 years.

work with me queens.

—the bastard

palpable…

the bastard felt the wind go out of his sails today.

we had to bring the price down a hair today. only a hair but, every inch you give away feels like a yard of ground you're losing.

I want to move back across the river so much I can taste it.

don't get me wrong, I like it fine in manhattan.

10 minute walk to work.

shit is open all the time.

access.

access.

access.

but I look forward to seeing the sun go down over the gantries.

having a place that's not her's or mine but our's.

the sort ride to work don't hurt either.

—the bastard

not so distant shores

the bastard went window shopping today with the fam

then I went shopping shopping with them.

the convenience of our current window shopping spot is it would plant us close to family on wither side of this rock we live on.

it seems that the east river beckons our crossing.

let's see if it's gonna work out.

it'd be nice to not have to pick up and drop off the car for a change.

—the bastard

...on motivational speaking

i was having a conversation with my ladyfriend tonight.

we're in the middle of putting together birth announcements.

and she had remarked on how she doesn't want to do anything too too nutty as our daughter is more of a night sleeper than a day sleeper.

"i'm not gonna go nuts. when am i gonna have the time to do that?", she asks

"you gonna do it anyway". air and light and time and space don't mean a thing.", the bastard responds

"what?"

so i went to the web and grabbed hank's poem about it. i used to have it on my office wall.

it helped the bastard with the "conundrum".

what conundrum do you mean?

well young jerks, it's like this.

you wanna be an artist but you need to pay the bills.

so you get a job.

now you have cash in pocket

but

no time to create.

what to do.

so a really good friend told me about a drunk named hank and this poem that i kept on the wall in my office and at home in my workspace and it was my compass for a long time.

and perhaps sometimes it still is.

air and light and time and space

"–you know, I’ve either had a family, a job,
something has always been in the
way
but now
I’ve sold my house, I’ve found this
place, a large studio, you should see the space and
the light.
for the first time in my life I’m going to have
a place and the time to
create."

no baby, if you’re going to create
you’re going to create whether you work
16 hours a day in a coal mine
or
you’re going to create in a small room with 3 children
while you’re on
welfare,
you’re going to create with part of your mind and your body blown
away,
you’re going to create blind
crippled
demented,
you’re going to create with a cat crawling up your
back while
the whole city trembles in earthquake, bombardment,
flood and fire.

baby, air and light and time and space
have nothing to do with it
and don’t create anything
except maybe a longer life to find
new excuses
for.

i read it to my ladyfriend tonight and it reminded me of a time when the bastard was struggling and he couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel.

developing film for unappreciative assholes.

designing album packages at 2 in the morning for some shady guy who stills owes me money and moved to vermont.

reminded me because i'm here.

top of my game.

end of the road.

one year later.

i miss my closest buds because they weren't as lucky or they got fed up and left.

still standing. at the end of the tunnel. and i don't know what to do next.

you'd think it was all it's cracked up to be.

and i'm not gonna tell you it ain't

but i ain't gonna tell you it is.

but i'll tell you this,

i would really love to see lobster come into the office in that phillies hat to grub a cuppa coffee these days.

dunno what i'd give for that.

—the bastard

ok... this is gonna sound stupid

...but the bastard just saw the film julia & julia

and it may have restored my faith in what I'm doing.

talk about it later.

i'm sitting in the crapper in a theatre in kips bay.

yeah. ew. go to hell.

—the bastard

wind up

well, this might be the only chance the bastard gets to do this before one more crisis hits us before the year is out so here goes.

this year the bastard won for a change.

he got to see some magic. and he got to hear the phrase that pays.

the chairman fired a fuck ton of guns.

the bastard found out how to get in touch with god.

the chairman had soem bad dreams that apparently come in threes.

the bastard went to court.

scoop came back to the east by car. and then she moved to florida.

the boy came to town and educated new yorkers on how to use the bathroom.

i drank some beer. nothing new there.


we had an election. the chairman's friend in denver covered the convention for me. the bastard really hopes he's wrong about the next 4 years.


the bastard finally outlasted the restaurant that had caused him so much grief over the last 8 years. and now i'm gonna leave because hey, i won.

the machine came to life and the bastard has been riding it ever since.

i got engaged, and then my ladyfriend went to iowa on business.

the crew went camping.

the bastard had hisself another indoor flood.

that said, it wasn't too bad a year, except for all the flooding. but it's like this, i got a promotion last month. it was the biggest promotion i ever got in my whole career. i didn't want to arrive in this chair in the way i did but, i'm in the chair of a newsstand magazine again and i'm going to make the most of it. i'm going to make the most of it because the bastard has been really lucky in life. yeah, i've had some tragedy and i keep getting up to do it again. as long as i can keep doing it again.

see you next year jerks.

—the bastard

When I was young and they packed me off to school
and taught me how not to play the game,
I didn't mind if they groomed me for success,
or if they said that I was a fool.
So I left there in the morning
with their God tucked underneath my arm --
their half-assed smiles and the book of rules.
So I asked this God a question
and by way of firm reply,
He said -- I'm not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays.
So to my old headmaster (and to anyone who cares):
before I'm through I'd like to say my prayers --

two...

it is time,

for stormy weather.

—the bastard

...on the view

...and not that god awful show with joy behar and whoopi


last tuesday


last night


tonight

things are a changing round here.

i mean the office, not the fucking election. i just wanted to get a few more pix of the view before it all changes on the bastard again.

—the bastard

nope

today ain't gonna get much better than pure cow in a jar.

the bastard thinks he needs to leave.

—the bastard