…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

nothing is easy…

…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

premise beach…

so the bastard had a thought about the week's repast

I gained a good deal of insight into how a certain contest in my industry works by being on a judging panel for it.

it gave me tremendous insight into what we are doing right

and what we are doing wrong.

but no one in the office seemed all that interested in hearing about it.

so I think I might just keep this to myself.

you see, I've already received my reward for my hard work.

so why push it.

—the bastard

...on throwaways

after an yuletide evening the bastard can best described as well met, my ladyfriend and I settled down for a spell and the bastard tooled away on the virus.

I came across one of those "quizzes" people do on facebook that I did in the place of blogging one night.

Smoke?
used to. sometimes at the craps table

Drink?
yup. double chocolate stout right now

Do Drugs?
nah

Brush Your Teeth?
sure

Sing?
yeah. sometimes more than i should

Dance?
i try but i suck at it

Draw?
i used to to more often but you know, air and light and time and space

Write?
more than i should sometimes

Pick Flowers?
not in a great while

Listen to Oldies?
depends on what you mean by oldies

Drive?
used to love to drive. now it holds no mystery for me. i miss the bike

Speed?
yup

Steal?
all the time.

Shop?
i used to more often but now, it's more like for groceries

Cook?
sometimes

Go Down?
sure

Watch Cartoons?
lots and lots, most of them are subtitled

Eat Spicy Food?
hell's yeah

Listen to Your Parents?
rarely. maybe that's how i turned out this way

Fight?
i fight like hell. and lose most of em

but it was mostly the answers to steal and fight. my ladyfriend quipped that I must really love myself.

and the bastard retorted, "quite the opposite actually but, sometimes I like what I write"

—the bastard

bittersweet symphony

cold comfort

is

an empty bus

on a shitty night

in queens.

heading back

to a shitty night

in manhattan.

it'll all start feeling like the damn holidays when the neverending ship ends.

and maybe for a minute it'll feel like christmas.

funny thing is

every time I kicked the bike over

it felt like christmas.

—the bastard

ambiguous...

i've thought about this a bit.

and the bastard doesn't like it.

i don't talk about it anymore because no one believes it.

"you shouldn't even be that way", said one, as if knowing all of the circumstances

another just yells louder than the rest claiming authority over the discussion.

another concedes to agree to disagree privately and is myopic publicly,

and even know i'm not that, it's still disappointing to read.

all of it is really.

the bastard has grown tired lately.

tired of monstering.

digging,

finding,

opining.

doesn't matter. no one's listening anyway.

—the bastard

the bastard's been thinking...

thinking about stuff.

thinking about his place in all of this.

it's always after these long weekends, i just have a hard time getting started.

sometimes, i just don't have the business of dead animals in me.

i'll get it back tomorrow.

sometimes staring in the face of insurmountable odds gives one pause.

you just don't feel like looking it in the face today.

maybe tomorrow

yeah

better luck tomorrow

—the bastard

the bastard is beginning to think

that grocery shopping is beginning to depress the hell out of him.

-the bastard

fading fast

...or was the spark ever there in the first place?

late nights make the bastard think of doing the wrong thing instead of getting one hot and a cot.

"we drink and we dry up and then we crumble into dust."

i think listening to the hold steady makes the bastard want to get drunk at night.

I think the hot meal is going to win though. sometimes being old has it's advantages. you lack the wherewithall.

-the bastard

...on catching one's breath

oooof.

just booked airfare for the gun show.

you know, i haven't been the stop and smell the roses sort.

but i thought i'd catch my breath.

you see the bastard got moved up in the world.

and while he has come to the conclusion that he will never really get to enjoy any of his promotions careerwise,

that he can stop and take a breath and think, "what fresh hell have i gotten myself into now?"

oh well,

things could be worse.

the bastard needs some sleep.

more to come when i actually have material.

—the bastard

...on the malaise

more than 50 percent of the december issue is out.

i feel like hell as well.

it's also hard because i'm not exactly shipping with my trusted partner in crime as he's been laid off.

this doesn't sit well.

the bastard has also gotten to bed no earlier than 12:30 every night this week.

so between the lunch coma and overall sadness.

and the malaise-o-nayse i had on my sandwich.

well, you get the picture.

—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

...on shopping

what else ya gonna do when your saturday's already been shot to hell?


her: excuse me, do you know what's the price of these?

me: well THIS thing is $3.49.

her: i mean which is the better bargain?

me: well, i was going to get this but i bought a three pack of this in trader joe's 3 weeks ago and it was like 50 cents cheaper.

her: i'm sorry, do you work here?

me: nah i'm just some guy in an ugly t-shirt.

what were you expecting? high drama from the fucking target store? it's not like i was invited out for anything.

—the bastard

the bastard's got nothing today

we're wrapping up the october/november issue of lots and lots of bullets seven times a year.

so the office gets to exhale for a sec. i've actually had a complete absence of the devil's work these days which leads the bastard to believe he'll be eating a lot of wish sandwiches for lunch in the coming weeks.

what's a wish sandwich?

well young shiteyes, a wish sandwich is when you have two slices of bread and you wish that there was something to eat between them two slices of bread.

oh well, at least i have half a tank of gas in both the car and the honda. perhaps that'll get the bastard to the border.

—the bastard

the bastard had decided...

...that he isn't going to do this again.

he isn't going to talk about september 11th this year.

this year's political climate just leaves a bad taste in my mouth. too much vitriol.

besides what fresh shit am i going to say about it that i hadn't said before?

—the bastard

...on petty fiefdoms

so there's this woman that works in the office.

and the bastard uses this term loosely because all i see her do is walk around these days and tell the bastard where he can and can't eat his lunch.

it's like this. after we got sold to a bunch of swedish people, they turned us over to the fucking hayseeds that they bought first. mind you they run their branch of our fair business from the second floor of a strip mall which ALWAYS strikes the bastard as good business sense.

anyway, they decided right from the get to redesign the offices which has met with disdainful results, dare i say, morale sucking results. one of these results was the loss of our lunch area. also known as the killing stuff monthly africa wing. but we discovered these conference rooms to eat in. and when one was free, we'd eat in it.

it got to the point that the exec assistant was booking conference rooms for us to guarantee us a place to eat.

now let me interupt by reading your mind: yes i am aware that the bastard can just GO OUT to eat like regular folk. well it's like this young shiteyes, the bastard works with people who like to take an hour out of their day to bullshit with one another over food. this is what you call GOOD FOR MORALE. it helps foster good work relationships. so there it is.

but the old bat caught on to this and put a stop to us booking the room. she sighted very logical reasons and we all collectively didn't disagree and we ceased booking for lunch. and when the room looks empty, we sit down and eat lunch.


well today we looked in, and no one was there. so we sat down and ate lunch. upon finishing, this ancient creature darkens my door and proceeds to give me grief about it. says that

"someone was training a new employee in there."

"you didn't look to see if the room was booked."

"so you people cant eat in any conference rooms, anymore."

and then she left. you know come to think of it, i could have sworn the room we ate lunch in was absolutely TEEMING with activity when we all collectively sat down and proceeded to eat. funny thing was, the bastard spoke with the people who had the room booked (because i can't seem to let sleeping dogs lie). they were done for the day. and then it hit me. i must have done something to piss the old crone off. oh well, i guess tomorrow, we'll have a picnic in our area.

people are petty, and i'm not excluding myself from that phrase. because the bastard is petty. very fucking petty.

—the bastard

...on the downpour

spent some of this afternoon in the photo studio, making the book look good.

now it's pissing out.

good thing i brought am umbrella.

the bastard always brings an umbrella.

when he's got the bag, he's got what he needs.

sure hope the hammers of hell don't rain on forest hills.

the bastard ain't going home tonight.

and he doesn't want to come home and find a puddle in his living room tomorrow.

best piece of advice i ever got was,

get renters insurance stupid.

bring it rain. fucking bring it. and wash all the shit down the drain.

—the bastard

...on the well

...and how it's running dry.


ok it's like this.

nothing is going on.

the bastard finds himself out of material as august is about to get in full swing. and i've covered alot of the foibles that is traveling on mass transit around this time of year. and i fade in and out of massive bouts of exhaustion so, i'm out of material for now. when something happens, i'll throw it down. in the mean time, here is a picture of the fucking ocean. deal.

—the bastard

p.s. i'm also trying to get the bike on the road again. maybe i'll be successful this time. lord knows i try. or at least i try in the bastard's own half assed way.

the bastard has to axe you

you ever have one of those days?

you know.

you split some really expensive tickets with your brother so that our mother can go see her favorite artist perform at her favorite venue before it closes?

and then you go out to dinner for your cousin's birthday?

and drink like.....three martini's and have a good meal?

and then we completely didn't almost die in a car wreck because your cousin has a superior braking system in his car?

and then you get home to open the mail and find out that your accountant fucked up and now you owe the government even more money?

yeah me too.

it never fails. every time the bastard feels like he's starting to get ahead, starting to be able to sock some away and some other fucking expense comes up.

—the bastard

i just don't have it in me today

you know,

i just spent the last 10 minutes bashing the keyboard over some asshole down the hall and his inability to do the right thing when the bastard is 6 feet away from the door and he didn't.

bang bang bang. thought up something clever and all that crap.

but i just don't have it in me today.

—the bastard