Her name was Jessica

I met her sometime during my junior year. She was a transfer to our little private school community. I remember having a science class with her. And I remember one of my good friends was trying to pick up on her. I was making out with a different girl named Jessica who I had a crush on the previous year but now decided to return the favor. I got invited to a birthday party by a girl who was a couple of years younger than me who I was kind of friends with. I wanted to buy her a present, so I asked if this new girl Jessica wanted to go to the mall with me. At this point my friend wasn't trying to pick her up anymore. After we went shopping there was a couple of hours until I had to take her home and go to this party. I half jokingly asked her if she wanted to go make out. She said sure. I took her to my mother's boss house, who was in England. We took a pad off of a pool lounge chair and put it on the ground and started making out. I got to second base as fast as I could but got stopped there. I spent the next 45 minutes or so with my hand up a shirt, sloppy kisses on my mouth and grinding my crotch into hers, jean on jean. I still remember how uncomfortable that felt. I took her home, we laughed and joked the whole way to her place. We hung out a few more times, hooked up and enjoyed each others company. Then she started dating someone, and I think I started dating someone and we just stayed friends.

About 9 months later I was keeping myself occupied with random girls and thoughts of college and everything that happens the last months of your senior year. My parents were in the process of splitting up. They still lived at the same house but spent a lot of time with the people who would become my steps. One particularly lonely afternoon I called Jessica. I invited her over. We hadn't hooked up since Christmas the year previous probably, or maybe later, or sooner, I don't remember. When she showed up at my door the first thing she said was that she wasn't going to kiss me. I hugged her and said no problem. We walked through my empty house to my bedroom. I think she had been over before, probably for a party. I put on some cd that was killing me at the time and we sat on the bed. Soon we were laying together, sort of spooning, sort of anxious, sort of distant. I think she said she had changed, that she didn't do that sort of stuff anymore. I told her again that it was ok. I told her I wasn't looking for that. She asked what I was looking for. I told here I just wanted someone there, someone to help fill the empty house, but life back into the coffin that had become my bed, my room, my house, my life. She looked shocked, a little. She hadn't signed up for this. I didn't know what she expected. Probably to repeatedly push away my advances. Maybe to give in. Maybe early afternoon sex. Maybe a bible reading. But she didn't get any of that. She just laid there next to me with a hand in my hair until she had to go home. And she left.

We didn't mention that afternoon. We rarely talked, except for school stuff and mild gossip at lunch. I think she is married now with a kid. And on that one day she did more than she will ever know for me.

Burritos!

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Dear VMA's...

No, I haven't watched them, but I'm going to. I was too busy watching the Bears beat up the Colts. Surprise, I know. I am watching the post show though, and I am confused. Is this where we are? 9 years removed from Nine Inch Nails debuting new music on live television? Say what you will about Nine Inch Nails, but at least Trent Reznor wrote music and no one from Duran Duran was in the band.

Anyways.

I'm going to TIVO this and watch it. No outside influence from blogs or anything. I'm gonna review it.

WHY?

I'm launching a new site - BOOTH REVIEW - this is gonna kick it off.

Be Prepared.

Love, Anthony

Dear Football...

Today is the beginning of football season. I don't count the Thursday game. I don't like the Giants, and I don't like football on Thursdays. I have a few wishes I want football to grant for me this year.

• Keep the Madden Curse ALIVE!
• Let Hester Break the all time returns for TD's record. Against the Colts.
• Let ESPN's Mr Fantasy Guy not convince me to start someone who will ruin my fantasy team that week.
• Have this be the last 16 game season.
• Don't let my cable go out during any games.
• And last and not least, bless Neckbeard.

Go Bears!

Let's keep the romance alive!

Apparently Christina Aguilera (?) and her man with a beard keep their relationship sexy by having Naked Sundays ALL DAY! That is what some woman with blond hair and a yellow suit told me while I was trying to watch college football,well, naked.

Being naked is pretty fucking rad. (Pardon my use of 80's terms of cool)

I'm naked a lot of the day, when I'm not in school or at work. At least the job all my friends know about. I did online philosophy and history homework today naked.

I talked to Whit on aim naked.

I'm blogging naked right now.

The only problem with all of this is if the cat is around he thinks my balls and/or penis are some sort of toy for him to bat at with his paws.

But you know what? Fuck Him!

Let's keep this blog sexy, lets keep our romance hot and heavy, lets save the whips and chains for when the kids are away at camp.

I'll blog naked.

You read naked.

All the world will be a better place! (I'd explain the benefits to the environment, but you already know that!)

***sponsored by The Secret Naturist Society***

***I'm kidding***

Anthony Sells Out...

This blog is up for sponsorship. Why?

Because I am broke.

Surprise, huh?

No, I am not upside-down on the home I own, well, because, I don't own a home. And my bank didn't go under so I can't get my funds because, I have 4 dollars in the bank.

Yup, broke.

32 dollars in my wallet, 31 available on a credit card, some miscellaneous change in my car, and 20 dollars in 1982 uncirculated pennies I got for my graduation from high school.

I was gonna go to the pawn shop today to pawn my guitar, but I stopped because Stephanie said she would leave me if I do, and she was already pissed off, so I didn't, I believed her.

So I need some cash. Here's how we'll do it.

You can sponsor it for one day for $10.
Or seven days for $50.
Or a month for $180.

In return you get:

• One post a day, two on weekends.
• The option of picking the topic of the post(s).
• The option of picking the style of the post(s).
• A picture of myself (and maybe Stephanie) at your favorite Canoga Park Landmark.

So go ahead and think it over. Tell your friends. Post it on your blog. Add it to your church newsletter. Whatever.

Thanks, I have to go suck dick in the alley now.

Class, classes, classless.

Sunday and Monday I saw Matt, my friend from Chicago. We stayed up ill 3 drinking and singing and recounting those cold months I spent there and the warm months I've spent here. It was another example of how both greatly and positively music has affected my life.

I sat in my first class yesterday since sometime in 2003. Different, very different. I didn't know my way around the campus, there was no one I had a class with before, no one who went to my high school, no one's younger brother or sister. On 3 hours of sleep I did well. I was excited to be there, and I'm excited to go again tomorrow.

I say things at the wrong time. I say them the wrong way. I say them to get things I want. I say them to back out of things. I say them to avoid confrontations. The worst is when it is the best thing to do but you do it at the wrong time.

I'm getting better at rebuilding bridges I've burned. I don't think I need any more practice, but I keep setting them on fire.

football and money

A year ago I was worried about where I was going to live and if I was about to loose my job.

One year later, today, I got a job working for the same company I thought was going to throw me out on my ass. And I live in Canoga Park.

Oh, how things change and how they stay the same.

Almost a whole bottle of Jack Daniels was consumed sitting on a nameless road tonight. We tried to figure out how we had even gotten things together enough in our lives to even meet. Chance encounter after chance encounter with so many people put us on that empty street.

I don't think I've ever been so amazed in my life, how things work out, come together.


You wonder where you change, or how you change. Places, people and things fall in and out of favor. Songs loose meanings, mountains don't scare you, valleys don't hold you, and you don't know why.

It feels good to do this again. The feelings are very different. But I love them.

I think if I ever were to be famous, or someone decided to document me and my life for the sake of prosperity, this last year will be the one. The one that sold the movie deal, the one that gets quoted on the sleeve, the one that people mine for ideas of how to not live their lives and how to create a character with no soul. This last year is the one that so easily folds me into a pretty little package with the ribbon and the shit-paper, my cliff note life.

But godamnit, it would be the best cliff-notes ever purchased.

Or not.

I got a lot of years left of fucking up ahead of me.

30 days (almost, not really, close. sorry.)

Stephanie sits in a restaurant waiting to be interviewed for a job. These have been tryings days lately. There's a new car that refuses to start, sitting on one of the only streets in the San Fernando Valley without streetsweeping or parking restrictions. Pure luck. Every day from before 2 to after 4 in the afternoon we drive around and Stephanie picks up, fills out, and drops off applications. We argue about money, but it is more about the insecurity. Stephanie hasn't been here before. There are some days I feel just as old as her, and other days it feels like it's more than 5 years that separates us. I've been jobless for months before, selling things on e-bay to make rent and pay utilities, riding bicycles with Bill to a bar that wouldn't charge us for our drinks. I've wandered around a city of millions in falling snow, walked a mile and a half in the dark through neighborhoods I've never heard of let alone seen before to interview for jobs that I was completely unqualified for. Returning things you bought for a buck or two so you can get drunk and sleep through the anxiety, I've done that too. It gets exciting, trying to figure out what bill you can hold off paying, which peter you can rob to pay paul. I'm in the middle of a two week interview process to serve at Pepper's again. Almost 3 years of experience at the same place and I still need multiple interviews. If things would have worked out how I wanted them to, I'd already be stockpiling cash under my mattress.

Soon.


Canoga Park is beautiful. There's graffiti, burrito places, vegetarian restaurants, a pool to swim in everyday, and an abundance of nooks and crannies to explore. A nice man named Bill runs the liquor store around the corner (Tally HO!). Our apartment manager is absent minded. Life is good.

Except the cat wants to kill me, and help me cook.

I'll unpack my camera and show you how things are.

in 15 minutes....

I'll be with Whit drinking beer.

I am moving on August 1st to Canoga Park.

I start school on September 2nd.

I got a car that drives on freeways.

I'll be quiting my job soon, but shooosh, they don't know yet.

Then I'll serve again, maybe tend bar, and read more, and write more, and blog more.

August 29th 2009. Thats the wedding day.

See you there.

girls shoes

Yesterday I bought 5 dollar lady shoes to wear to work.

They aren't very comfortable.

And they dyed my socks black.

My kitten likes the way they smell.

I am alive. I still work too much. I'm moving again soon!

Sleeping Houses at Dawn

Tender eyes and hearts close and pound,
silence deep enough to drown,
Proud words and turning ache
swearing just for swearing's sake.
Wrong turns and blinking blinkers
taking place of abandoned winters,
Shorter skirts and warmer hearts
begging for this to start.

Glasses sweat and empty out
fears and hopes and loves and doubt,
No equal level and no familiar gauge
to finally feeling one's age.
Glowing blue and yellow days
now batting, Willie Mays,
Your father's face evolves
to fit all of us involved.

Still some smoke holds on
to the horizon at dawn,
And visitors leave flowers crossed
where the innocence was lost.
We count the paper for it's worth
and pray it stretches over earth,
fills our every need today
or makes us hate to run away.

lunch break party is almost over

i'm smoking cloves, drinking beer, making a mix.

i leave to go back to work in 5 minutes.

i have no insurance, no smog, no registration.

i have 2 bucks in savings, 100 in checking, 40 in my pocket.

i'm out of gas.

i get paid in 10 days.

i work 45-50 hours a week. I don't get paid daily overtime. i get one day off every seven.

i'm in love. i'm in a great band.

i miss my families. i miss some of my friends. i miss my moustache.

i've never been happier. i've never been lonelier. i've never been so low. i've never been so high.

i love music. i love life. i love you.

have a great day.

i'm trying too.

VONS - 1 Booth - 0

A taped up 12 pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon was purchased the other day. Last night while watching a scary movie in the dark I was drinking said beer and eating Oreo cookies. The second beer tasted strange. I thought it was the cookies. It was the beer. It was actually club soda. I was pulling the "beers" out of the box in the box and putting them in my koozie without looking. VONS, you got me!

http://crapulentjukebox.blogspot.com/

So me and Frowning Bill are making a mix blog called The Crapulent Jukebox. His first mix is up, mine is being made as we speak. So add it to your blogroll and readers and things you tell your friends about. In the mean time, my breaks don't work and a burrito purchaser heard me call a co-worker a mother-fucker.

Happy times indeed.

when in mexico...

I fold burritos for a living. I do the other stuff too. I put meat in them (yup), I put dairy in them, and rice, and beans, and sauce (yup) and good times. I also make tacos, tortas, bowls, enchiladas and the dreaded taquito.

Dreaded?

Oh Yes sir, dreaded.

Yesterday a lady asked me if the taquitos were hard or soft.

Wait, the place I work at is like subway, but mexican. Actually, it is more white-boy-mexican, but whatever. So I'm on one side of the sneeze guard and you are on the other, and we move down the line and put the things you want into the thing you ordered.

Actually, I'm a lunch lady. No hair net, but a hat, and gloves.

So this lady asks me if the taquitos are hard or soft.

I say "Umm, they're taquitos."

Pause.

Then I say "Uhh, they're hard (implied DUH)"

She let me know, angrily, that in MEXICAN FOOD taquitos can be hard or soft, and that she was MEXICAN. She also called me an asshole. Or rather implied I was an asshole.

I told her I didn't know that, and that I wasn't mexican, you know, in case there was any confusion or anything.

She might still be mad.

She had a taco instead. You know, the soft version of a taquito.

days bleeding together

Folding/rolling burritos fills my days. I spend less time with my friends. I don't stay at their houses long enough, or try hard enough, or even show up enough. I go to work while roommates sit on the couch and come home and they are still there. I smell like burritos. I feel like a burrito. I don't hate my job. I don't yell at anyone or punch boxes of frozen fries. I'm just there all of the time. I can't find time to write, I can't find time to post blogs, I can't find time to write songs. I can't give all the time stephanie wants from me or all the time I want to give to her. I don't cook. I don't read. I don't take baths. I don't walk anywhere. I don't have any money. I get on the wagon. I fall off the wagon. Everyday is a blur, but not like it used to be, when I would work 5 hours, make 20 hours worth of money, and have a great time doing it. Now I work 11 hours, make 11 (or less) hours worth of money, and don't know where it is or where it goes. I'm on my break from work right now. I'll go back in 20 minutes. More burritos. More tacos. More people not saying please. More headaches. More calculated breathing. More. More. More.

I want less. Thank you.


Tonight: Bill's birthday.

day two

Day one had breakfast in bed and ice cream at night. I forgot to mention. Day two, the way mornings should be. This certain way she smiles when wakes up and realizes where she is is saved in my head. And every morning I make sure it is still there, and today it was. There was school for her and work for me. A stolen lunch break cuddle session. As I swept and replayed the previous days events I came to a conclusion. You decide to love some one. And you decide to love them as long as you want to. It's not chemical, it's a decision. You can continue to fall into patterns or not. You can hold things against people or not. You can let your parents relationship, your grandparents relationship, or your past relationships affect what you do today, but you shouldn't. And now I won't. Day two was good, but sharing it with someone was better.

day one

Waking up at 5:30 in the morning not knowing if that is the last time you wake up next to someone you love is not something I recommend. 2 or so hours spent putting little kisses on a shoulder or cheek, trying to wake her up isn't as bad as it could be, just to long. That first conversation of day should never contain "are you staying?" or "do you still want to get married?" or "do you want to try to help me be better?. Make up sex should not have to occur, but at least it does. Hours at work should not be worn away by stomach pain and unreturned text messages. Knowing someone isn't leaving doesn't mean anything when you can't see them. But coming home to them on the couch with a smile on their face and a ring on their finger means more than you can imagine, unless you've survived a shipwreck, or been where I have, throwing away something that no matter how much you tell yourself you deserve it, you can't make yourself believe that you've earned it. That nights sleep is much less restless. To more nights sleeps like that.

memorial day redux

Every single hateful, angry, spiteful, baiting and horrible thing said by myself ran on repeat through my head. The list not as long as it could be, but still entirely too long. I sat in front of the door and watched as things got folded up, or stuffed into bags or thrown across the room. I said things that in the past may have calmed the situation down, or at least now make me feel better, but never worked. Tears and more tears. Finally it was agreed for one more night we would try. I didn't sleep alone. But I figured out that you don't have to be the person you have always been. And sometimes in the morning everything is ok.