celibate girl walks into a bar

(no one pictured is celibate girl)

I used to have "a bar". The one I went to all the time, the one where I knew the bartenders and owner and cooks and all of it. I still know most of those people, and I still go there, but it's not the same. As I enjoy saying, "I lost it in the divorce". That is not 100% accurate, but that is ok.

I ended up there tonight. I was trying to make headway with a lady who is not the second chance, but interests me none the less. She never showed up. But celibate girl did. And that is fine. Most of me has moved passed my fascination. But part of me is still getting kicked in the balls about it. And her are the sordid details.

Celibate girl showed up, probably invited by Robert, because with one comes the other, most of the time. She shows up with a gentleman, whose name is Kevin. (I just decided to get rid of all sort of fake names/pseudonyms/whatever. Celibate girls' name is Hannah. All parties are happy. Or at least me.) Hannah and Kevin aren't old enough for cheap car insurance, let alone able to buy drinks. After being asked to buy a Jager-Bomb for Kevin I devise a plan and make it happen. (It was asked for by Hannah on Kevin's behalf) I use a plan because I used to love this bar, and even if my feelings have changed lately, I still respect it. It comes out later that someone already bought him his Jager-bomb, and mine was a "gift".

Fuck That!

I drank at this bar underage, and the tips reflected that. I have drank and drank and drank at this bar, and my tips reflected that. But I just got screwed.

There have been conversations between myself and Hannah about getting to know each other better. We might have tried a little bit, but not that hard. So I sat in this style of chair I have sat in some many times before, and it hit me. I am being used.

Hannah might not be into this Kevin, but she might as well be. Don't use me to get other dudes drunk.

She tries to tell me there was a misunderstanding, and tries to give me money. I won't take it. I tell her that it was a lesson. And I learned it. So I get rid of her. DELETE! I don't have her number anymore, I hope it lasts.

The point to this whole thing is that I don't need this shit, I am drunk, and I hope someone will learn a lesson.

goodbye...

This is Big Dog. I met him 7 years ago. He was my step-dad's dog, but he soon became mine. I wasn't a dog person growing up. We had cats. Big Dog helped me to see how awesome dogs can be. I have great memories from living with him in both Lancaster and Sacramento. Big Dog passed away yesterday. They think he ate some wild mushrooms (which happen to be poisonous) that had popped up around Oregon. I will miss you Big Dog. I already do.

...or don't - mix

I haven't put up a mix in a while. I was going to figure out the way CYSTSFTS? does it, but I am little lazy, so this weekend I will.

There is going to be a housewarming party Saturday night at my house if anyone is interested. I am going to go out on a limb and say that there will be a lot of drinking, nudity and a hopefully some making out. (I try and come up with ways to use making out as a tag every chance I get now, just for Marleigh.)

This mix has nothing to do with the house warming party. It's a representation of this feeling that shows up for 15-20 random minutes a couple of times a day. I enjoy it, the feeling and the mix.

Enjoy your weekend.

...or don't - http://www.megaupload.com/?d=1NYUXHSD
Personal Slump - The Weight
Black - Okkervil River
Melatonin - Silversun Pickups
The Lonely Vampires Club - The Wunder Years
10 Years Later - Mates of State
Memorial Day - Paint It Black
Jackie Lee - Off With Their Heads
Hast Thou Considered the Tetrapod? - The Mountain Goats
Luca - Brand New

almost a second chance

I spent 20 minutes trying to find the right music to play while I wrote this. It ended up being Hey Mercedes.

I am not one to have a large backpack full of regrets, more like a wallet, a little kid wallet. I remember when I got my first wallet, it was a shitty red nylon one, and it had some change, a dollar or two, a picture of my parents and something with my address on it. Stupid little thing. Anyways, my "regret wallet" is mostly empty. I put events/people/places into it occasionally, and after a few years/months/days/minutes I take them out, realizing I am happy where I am now, and I wouldn't be here with/without that thing.

I do regret not buying the last Jawbreaker album when I found out about them in junior high and they were still together, but I probably would have sold it back at some point to buy a korn record, so I am actually ok with it. Besides, who would have wanted to be that cool in junior high? (HA!)

The main regret tormentor has always been my involvement with the fairer sex. Not the ones I actually stumbled into some sort of relationship but the ones I didn't. And not the ones I didn't because they saw behind the curtain or I wasn't boxing my weight, but the ones who because of circumstances it was impossible.

I had a girlfriend. They had a boyfriend. They lived in another state/country. They were married. I didn't know there name. I was moving away. They were moving home.

It's not even really a regret, actually. It's a what-if? What if any of those mitigating factors were gone and something could have happened, even for a night?

Most of these girls are very long gone and forgotten, thrown out with the boxes of pictures/address books/childhood memorabilia I have left at the dump during one of my many moves. Names and faces blur together. Did I meet them in a store, or under a tree, or at a friends apartment, or never at all?

Those chances never present themselves again.

Except this time.

I might have a second chance at a first shot.

lost in the supermarket

I was going to do a Wordless Wednesday with this picture, but I owe this to Whit, so it's gonna be Whit's Wednesday.

It has been a fun couple of weeks at the ol' Peppers. Word got around of my sexual ability Whit's leaving. The first reaction from everyone, naive 19 yearolds and road worn 40 somethings, was the same. "What are you going to do? Do have another job?" "No."

It was great.

People's minds were almost blown from his "lack of planning" or "ill preparedness" . Not mine, I would smile. I remember a time of single income homes, rather, I remember seeing it on television.

It is funny to me how people react when you do something financially risky/exciting/unexpected, especially in terms of employment. We are constantly bombarded with the buying-in of the american dream, the cars/houses/boats/breasts/shoes/shit, and when someone says "no thank you", even if they mean to or not, it throws them for a loop.

So the drink I am about to go make myself is for Whit, congratulations!

i don't like cops and i don't like park rangers

That's a tame one for Hilly. I here there's some full frontal's lying around, I haven't seen them myself yet though.

On with the show...

I woke up naked with a hangover from the LA Blogger party. Oh Yeah! We drove the hour and half or so to Carpenteria and started drinking. We swam and drank and ate and drank and danced and drank and drank and drank. Beer, tequila, red headed bitsy's, vodka fruit punch. We set the party guns for full annihilation and unloaded the rounds. We played this funny south korean drinking game that involves a lot of clapping. I felt bad for half a second for our fellow campers. You can't be excited to see a baker's dozen 20-somethings shirtless in party hats.

So most of us end up in the ocean naked. This, along with everything else, gets the park rangers called on us. That's fine. As much as it is my right to have a good time it is yours to complain. But complaining about noise when it isn't even the posted quiet time hour of 10 pm, please! Being naked in public, ok. Being drunk, sure. But what pisses me off is being in the water.

I can't go into ocean whenever I please? So what if I drown, I'm responsible for myself. There are enough fucking fences around, enough places I can't walk through, or explore. There's enough mountains I can't hike without paying 5 bucks a day to. We reserved and paid for two spots. Then spots got moved to super shitty spots with half the space because they had to pave the other ones. It's summer! What are you doing the 3-4 months in winter when there is no one there?

I got sidetracked. We are paying for the privilege to sleep in the vicinity of the beach and to use the ocean, but only part of the time? Fuck that. Let me swim whenever I want. It's not like there's maintenance on fucking water. ARGH!

Despite the being in trouble for swimming, it was a great time. Two great nights in a row.

Happy birthday to Bill!

my first party in the hills without that pesky freon addiction

Here's what I remember happening at the LA Blogger Party, a few days later...
(as close to chronological as possible)

On our way to the house, and by we I mean Bill, Whit, Tricia (thanks again DD) and I, Whit tells us LA Daddy (it's super funny to me to refer to people by their blog name) needs some plastic forks and ice. 4 20lbs bags. We find a CVS. They only have 7lbs bags and no forks. So we walk through it and out the other side (?) to a Vons. There's a VW bug in the parking lot and the sex jokes start. I exclaim loudly to my friends (and an unsuspecting woman) that I am wet. The party just started.

Oh yeah, we still had to buy 7lbs bags of ice. The count goes to eleven. (That's a Whit joke)

We find the house, we meet LA Daddy, we open beers, we tear paper to make business cards. We open more beer and the bloggers start showing up.

Red Stapler shows up, with the red stapler. If I had been on top of my game I would have made the UHF "red stapler, mmmmm, very tasty" joke. I'm kicking myself. She was way fun and way nice. Bill stapled my face.

Then we get to meet Write Write Baby. All three of them. The baby was a good baby, in that it wasn't giving out insider trading secrets and it didn't cause any physical harm to me. Two things I look for in a child. We played a little golf ball catch. I realized I am great with kids. For 30 seconds.

Then more and more and more and more bloggers show up. Super hot mom Baby on Bored showed up and I started to hit on her. And by hitting on her I said "I read your blog, the post about 10things to do instead of taking a bath with rose petals. It was funny." Smooth until the day I die. My ringman wasn't with me, but I saw it and abandoned ship. (A ringman is like a wingman, except they just check fingers for promise/engagement/wedding rings. They are useful helping continue eye contact and also not getting you yelled at for accidentally looking at a chest.) I decided not to try to hit on anyone else that night. She showed up with House of Prince, whose blog I had also read. As was revealed very early, she is breastfeeding. I made a joke that we could now make white russians, because the milk was here. Oh yeah. It gets better.

September 10th sat at a table with a bunch of people. We didn't say much to each other, but Donald and I talked about making money with a blog. It was a good base for another participant in shots later on in the evening. At the table I met Childsplayx2 who traveled up from San Diego and recommended living in New York. And I also met Andy, Kitchen-Fire's husband. We bonded over punk rock. I was excited, VERY excited. More people showed up.

I was anticipating meeting Rattling the Kettle. On his blog his sense of humor seemed like one I would enjoy, and I did. I wish we would have talked more, but at this point I had 3 drinks in my hand (beer, red bull and vodka, champagne with strawberries) and it was time to get things going.

Side note: being vegetarian at potlucks is sorta shitty, but you just have to improvise, like using a knife to scrape off all the fun stuff from the bagel bites so you just have mini bagels. Those do a good job, those and carrots.

At this point in the evening I spend most of it inside, jumping from conversation to ice chest to carrot plate to conversation. There were a bunch of people I didn't meet at this point, it happens. I did met Down With Pants (shot taker numero dos) and his wife. I wish I could remember her name, but I wasn't retaining much at this point. I had to start writing down blogs to check out on a piece of paper. DWP is huge! Like crazy linebacker huge, and just as awesome. I enjoyed the time with him and the Peruvian beer. Pretty much any beer with foil around the neck is tasty, and this one was too! DWP isn't a parent blogger, so I think we made some sort of super-hero-non-parent-blogging-world-power consisting of him Bill and I. You tremble. It is possible we formed no such group. But I do remember making fun of parent blogs. The funny thing is a parent blog is just like my blog, just change the baby name with my name and beer bottle with any drink reference. Keep the all the crazy baby antics though, I do those too.

I met 8cmdeluded and her friend whose business card is in my wallet. Things get pretty hazy at this point, but I know that party is winding down, and I think that we get into a friendly match of making fun of each other. There's the thing about letting someone come inside of you, then some stuff about owning a skateboard, then some "who the fuck is david sedaris" and something about Henry Rollins. It was good times for all, and by all I mean myself for sure, her probably, her friend maybe, and everyone else no.

I meet justinspace around the food table and we drank maker's on the rocks together, but separately. I never drink the booze on the rocks, my head explained to me why in the morning.

The shots happen sometime between the anti-mommy blogging jokes and the how to make babies conversation. It was me, Bill, DWP, Donald and When Tara Met Blog. Jim Beam, WOO! The party was great, but not so much a shot taking party. It was good to get the shots flowing, thanks again to those 3 for joining in on the fun.

Oh yeah, before the night is over, I take off most of my clothes and get in the hot tube. I almost drowned, the fucker had a crazy deep spot, like 7 feet.

I know I met some more people, but these are the things that stick out. Big Ups to LA Daddy once again for the great party.

Now I have to go read the 30 new blogs I'm checking out.

I am excited.

how to humiliate your husband!

At the LA Blogger Party I heard someone talk about how this phrase got people to go to there blog on accident, so I stole it for my title.

This is just a quick update on the events of last night. That's some ice we bought. It was just like the party, cool. (I am hilarious!)

It was great to meet new people, I have some new blogs to read, and I probably only put my foot in my mouth 6 or 7 times, which is a little low for a Saturday night.

I'll get more into this in a day or two, now I have to go to the beach for Bill's birthday camping and try set up some naked photo's for Hilly.

trees get chopped down

I went to a sake bomb party one time. It was at this apartment in Northridge. There was a keg gong, and chopsticks, and pot stickers, and Sapporo and sake. It was a wonderful evening. I bring this up because I was at that apartment a couple of days ago.

Congratulations to my good friends Adam Buus and Justin Hickman for graduating from CSUN.

I spent the day with these gents on Wednesday and it was good times like always. I just wanted to give them a hello.

Let the preparation for the blogger party begin.

Ready, Set, Go!

in preperation for the party tomorrow

In order to properly be prepared for Saturday, we had Girly Drink Night 3! It was mudslides with chocolate shavings. Then a couple whipits, then some beer, then a Cosmo, then more beer. And nudity. There is picture somewhere of myself and Danny naked on top of a VW bug. There were ass slaps and wrestling and a fire pit. If I ever enter into politics, this will be one of the many many evenings that will give my staffers headaches.

I would like to go on record saying that I am extremely excited about tomorrow. It is going to be fun meeting new people and putting faces to blogs.

I've been messing around with a mix to mark the occasion, I will put it up tomorrow morning. I am going to rest my liver tonight. It has a big day ahead of it.

*****UPDATE*****
Thanks to Robert at The Sounds I Make for uploading this picture. Check his site for a much higher resolution version.

the omniscient narrator has a drink

Tuesday night I sat in a bar with Bill in a booth removed from the main action of the evening. There was some interesting sexual power plays going on between some friends and acquaintances. There was a moment where the tension got kicked up more than a few notches. The type of situation where your body gets really hot and you have a thin layer of sweat that just jumps off of your skin. It can be scary/exciting when it is you. Like when you get caught in a lie, or kiss comes from nowhere, or when Grossman drops back to pass. It is an entirely different feeling when you aren't involved any more than a spectator and it hits you.

Bill and I both said the same thing when this person walked in the door, "I just got really hot!"

About a half hour later a disaster was averted when there was a near miss of awkwardness by timing of arrivals done to the second. It was like watching a movie.

It made me think about how much a second or two puts us in some many different situations in our lives. It is exciting to me to say the least.

**note: picture is not from the other night, but a year and a half ago. same bar, used for reference.

wordless wednesday

http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/

...In this pond, some rise, some sink.

I realized I'm becoming something I am not. I mean, yes, I am a little whiny (i.e. uno, dos), but that's from living with Atticus, that's not my fault.

I'm getting back to my roots, the thing passed on through the generations of Booth's that have come before me and carried the name with such passion.

I am drinking a forty in the middle of the afternoon, shirtless.

Happy Blackout Tuesday!

What happens in bed stays in bed

I am not going to get out of bed until this is finished.

I haven't been much of a dreamer since I was about 17. Not the sleep time dreams, my teeth fall out while I am stuck in a never ending fall in the middle of Las Vegas at least twice a night, but more the John Lennon type. I don't dream of grandiose changes to the psyche of the American public. I don't hope for the perfect mate to fall out of the bar stool next to me. I try not to make any plans, because I usually sabotage them before the get to pressing. I don't want to be anything.

To an extent, if I want something to happen, I make it happen. But for every night of singalongs around a table of beer I have two nights of working. I know, necessary evil, right? Fuck that. No evil is necessary. If we don't want to do something, we shouldn't. We all make compromises, and I am ok with some of mine, I just don't to be defined by my compromises, or my failures.

It has been said that the Antelope Valley has a large magnetic pull, which not only keeps the meth-heads here, but also pulls back in most long term residents should they happen to move away. It's happened twice for me, once from San Diego and once from Sacramento. I've also been in various stages of planning to move to Ventura, Colorado Springs, Chicago and Minneapolis (the last one is just in my head, which is probably where it will stay).

And all of that ties in with my lack of dreams. My lack of ambition. All of my desire is wrapped up in mostly booze, some making out, and a little music. I can make those three things happen. I can't make anything else work.

I am safe.

the loosing of friends (that's for you, bobb)

Last night was cosmo night. It was Girly Drink Night 2 (the first being mojito's, even though Whit thinks those are "dude beach drinks" or something silly like that). As with every night I ended up pretty drunk. The participants of Girly Drink Night 2 (read: my friends) sat around our new patio furniture drinking and talking and enjoying each others company. Which reads me to this:

Technology is killing honest interaction.

Yup. Myspace, Cell Phones, Email, Television, The Holy Trinity, Watermelon Pucker and Instant Messaging. They be slaying foo's.

Technology hasn't help me make any friends. Acquaintances at best. Actually, it has probably ruined more friendships than anything else. Sneaky text messaging, missed call logs, lost voice mail messages, "I'm away" status, purgatory, Kamikaze's and Tivo are making my interactions with people harder and harder.

I think I am not very demanding in social situations. Stiff drinks, good conversations and a place to sit. But all this technology seems to be getting in the way. We are creating these persona's that don't actually exist. We are slimmer, fatter, taller, shorter, sexier, more disgusting, smarter, dumber, and either more or less exciting.

And honestly, I don't really care. Two hours ago I was searching the Internet to try and find a girl I met last night so that I could hang out with her. WHY? Probably to try to get laid. But that's always the case. We are all really working towards sex, either with that person or one of that person's friends. Gabe and I came to the realization that a lot of the "ladies" we have been hanging out with (or in some cases trying to hang out with) have no actual interest in us. And to be completely truthful, we don't have much interest in them actual. It's all a stupid game. And technology is making that game easier and more complicated.

I guess that was my point all along.

Whenever I think of sex/dating/love/sweaty palms I think of my favorite scene from the Cameron Crowe film Singles. Thanks to IMDB we get an exact quote:

David Bailey: Tonight I'll be the super me.
Steve Dunne: What if the super you meets the super her and the super her rejects the super you?
David Bailey: Then it's no problem.
Steve Dunne: Uh-huh. Why?
David Bailey: Because it was never you, it was just an act. I live my life like a French movie, Steve.

So true.

somenights i thirst for real blood

So, about this business of staying up to see the sunrise. I was slinging margarita's at "Pepper's" and my roommates were doing sake bombs. I get home from work, 12:30ish, and the bastards are asleep. So I watch some heroes, I go to the celibate girl's house to drink beer on the shortest driveway in west Lancaster and watch a movie. She burned the popcorn, I almost stabbed her. Anyways, I get home at about 5, and everyone is still asleep. The sky is a nice begining morning blue and the animals are out in fullforce with their barking and chirping and crowing and honking (some cars were up too). So I went walking in the desert with my camera.

I am standing in the desert and I realized two things.

I should not be there. Everything I have ever been taught by people with more education or life experiance or money tells me that I should not be standing drunk and alone in a desert as the sunrises on a friday morning. I should be sleeping or getting ready for work. I should have finished school. I should be making a family. And I am doing none of it. Amongst my friends there is always talk of anarchy and practical application of it and blahblahblah. For those twenty minutes this morning I was doing it. I was alive. I was experiancing "space" in a new way.


I am impatiant. I stood there, alive, and between my breaths all I could think was that the sun was taking too long. I had things to do, or beds to crawl into, or something else. Nothing important, nothing meaningful, nothing as beautiful or exciting as what I was doing.

I didn't want it to end, but I couldn't wait for it to be finished.

(almost)

I accidentally stayed up untill almost six o'clock in the morning. I almost saw the sunrise. I came close. I stood in the same spot in the desert next to my house for almost five minutes. I felt my heart beat. I heard bird's chirping. I almost laid down and went to sleep in the desert. I will do that in my bed now. More on this to come.

it's not so much the doom but rather the impending part that keeps me up

I realized last night that I am pretty bad with first impressions. Not the ones I give, but the ones I get. I am usually loud/drunk/honest enough when I first meet people for them to know exactly what they are getting into. Sometimes I can be a little shy, but usually melts away fairly fast. I'm just not a very good judge of character.

That's wrong.

I am a pretty good judge of character, but a poor judge of personality. I'll meet you and fairly quickly know if I would loan you money or tell you how to get to my house or if I'd be a reference on an application. I seem to gloss over (or not pay any attention to) the personality traits that within the next few interactions jump out and surprise the shit out of me. For example:

Me: "I agree, you should take him home with you"
Person: "I'm celibate"
Me: "Your celibate!"

See? Oh, you don't? Let me explain.

It was a sunday night in a bar. The person was an underage girl. She had a shirt/dress from the set of Laugh-In and cowboy boots. No underage girl in a bar on a sunday night is celibate. Especially if she's in cowboy boots. It didn't occur to me that she might be crazy.

But she was. And she is. And I want to hang out with her.

Yeah, I know. Bill and I thought she stole the cookie sheet from our house. You don't accuse people of that sort of thing unless its possible. And I still want to hang out with her.

I hope I don't, but if I do, I deserve whatever happens.

A Booth and his money will soon be parted.

That's how that saying goes, right?

it has been a week

I have a good week of the assorted activities. Details and pictures to follow on some.

• Pedicure (yes those are my anti-authoritave toes up there)
• Mojito's (again)
• Drive-In Movies
• Moving Car Makeouts
• Lions
• Walks
• Stolen Signs
• New Furniture
• A Little Work
• Naked Threesome Proposals
• Marcile
• Lostwood
• Dan's House
• Heroes
  

Let's hope to more blogging and more of all the other shit too.

desert porno

Myself and Bill walked down the street to get pizza today. Said street has nice desert on both sides of the street. While we were walking we see a cd on the ground. We pick it up, porno! Another one, porno! A third, PORNO! It was an ultimate porno treasure chest. Bill said "Man, times don't change, do they? When you were a kid, did you ever walk through the desert and find a old faded penthouse or hustler? It's still the same, but its DVD!" (quote probably not exact). Sure your town may have a music scene, or arts, or good public transportation, or a small percentage of meth labs and child abusers, but mine has desert porno, BEAT THAT!

things i learned from my mother

in no particular order...

• girls are evil (actually, this is number one, everything after is in no order)
• anything done indoors/outdoors is better with music being played extremely loud
• living rooms are for dancing
• bike rides are always nice
• always gamble on your birthday
• its good to cry
• titanium is for legs too!
• you are only as crazy as you let yourself to be
• forgiveness is possible
• cards are not just for major holidays
• you have to stay happy

My mom doesn't read my blog, or probably even know about it, but she is super important to me. I love you mom.

pre-work blues

I've started this post four different times today. Once when I first woke up. Once when I got back from eating lunch. Once after waking up from a nap. And now. So far this one has the most promise.

about time i started making things fun around here

This is the new window. I like it. Buttons likes it too. I catch him sitting on the sill (?) whenthe window is open. It is pretty impressive, there isn't much room there and he's getting fatter by the day.
Why am I up at 1:30 putting widgets on my blog? And why am I not drunk? Well, as reported earlier I woke up sleeping on the living room floor. The spur kicked my ass last night, and I don't even think I was there for 30 minutes. Maybe I got ghb'd or ruphied. Or maybe I mixed beer, tequila, and whiskey with very little food. It doesn't really matter.
I was supposed to work this morning, I didn't, but that tree is dying anyways. Instead I took a shower, put on the same clothes as yesterday, did laundry and threw up in the laundry mat parking lot. It was probably from the booze, might have been being in the same room as a tv beaming out Oprah and Dr Phil for the first time in months.
So I stayed home, missing out on an awesome Matt Skiba/Chuck Ragan show in Hollywood, but advancing ever further in my new addiction, SUPER PAPER MARIO. I watched some hockey, I watched some basketball, I was disappointed in both loosing teams.
Now I am finishing downloading new episodes of Degrassi the Next Generation and adding a much needed actual post.
I'm going to try to take some pictures this weekend. I'll put them up on my flickr page.
Sleep well.

someday i'll be a soccer coach

Somewhere between strawberry margarita's served by a plumber at El Toreo Far West and waking up on the floor in the living room Kirien turned me onto this show Home Movies. This clip is as close as I have ever been to looking into a mirror in the future. It makes me smile.

from the floor of my new room

I am very excited. I moved into a new house. I sleep in the smallest room. I picked it because I wanted to be able to look out my window at the front yard and street and passing life instead of the neighbor's yard. I'll take a picture and update more soon, but in the mean time I am going to listen to tom waits and look out my window.

i guess thats what happens when you drink too much

Here are the results of the booze census. Well, most of them. I only wrote down the first couple days. I hope my memory is as good as it used to be.

MONDAY

• 3 Curveballs (pryamid seasonal beer)
• 3 Bud Lights (bottles)
  
• 1 Jager Shot

TUESDAY

• 3 Strawberry Margaritas
• 1 Fat Tire (16oz draft)
• 1 Gordon Biersch Marzen (bottle)
• 1 Pabst Blue Ribbon (can)
• 2 Bud Lights (16oz cans)
• 1 Red Headed Slut
• 1 Bud LIght (bottle)

WEDNESDAY

• 4 Bud Lights (Bottles)

THURSDAY

• 1 Full Sail (bottle)
• 3 Budweisers (24oz cans)
• 3 screwdrivers

FRIDAY

• 1 Tire Bite(?) (bottle)
• 1 Negro Modelo (bottle)
• 2 Sake Bombs
• 1 Sapporo (glass)
• 1 Cabo Wabo shot

SATURDAY

• 1 Fat Tire (32oz draft)
• 2 Bud Lights (32oz draft)
• 1 Mickey's (40oz bottle)

SUNDAY

• 3 Buschs (Can)
• 2 Jager shots
• 1 Gin Gimlet

I should be dead. There were two birthdays and two shows this week, so that should account for some of it, right?

as the hair goes, so goes the nation

There is an epidemic. It's raging. It has reared it's head and taken from us. It has taken the form of blades, scissors, razors, and clippers. Haircuts, EVERYWHERE! Gabe, myself, Whit, Robby, Danny, and probably you. Beards are even falling victim. beware.

the great booze census, 2007

I was trying to figure out an activity to do while I do what I do best, drink, and I decied to keep a written log of all that I drink over the next 7 days. In high school we did it with food, so I will do it with booze. I'm gonna get a tiny little pocket sized notebook thing and keep track of everything I drink from today, Monday to Sunday. I will post the results and pictures and fun here in one week.

is that a hernia in your pocket or are you happy to see me?

So, I live with Whit. And Tricia. And their two kids. It is a cozy little arrangement and I love it. So thursday the youngest put a tinker toy in the toilet and Whit flushed it. No big deal, did a little plunging, everything was fine. But the next time I went to the bathroom I had to plunge too. With that in mind I skip my usual pre-shower shit and go about my routine getting ready to work. On my way to Chili's I tell myself "No big deal Anthony, just shit when you get there. It will be slow." I was right, it was slow. About 2 1/2 hours into my shift I get the most intense stomach pain I have ever had in my life. Not a slow build, but an all out ninja-sneak-attack on my insides. But not my insides, it feels like a knife is getting shoved through my belly button. I go into disaster mode, ITS A HERNIA!!!!! IN MY BELLY BUTTON!!!! NO INSURANCE!!!!! I'M FUCKED!!!!! I tell the manager I am dying, I get someone to stay and close for me, I tell everyone I work with I have a hernia, I start thinking what good organs I have left to sell to cover the operation. Then glorious Whit asks me about the poopoo situation. I HAD FORGOTTEN TO SHIT! I do it, I feel a little better. I leave work, get some generic gas-x, poop a little more, and OH GLORIOUS DAY! No hernia for me.

I was thinking about it, and I think I did actually have a hernia, but when I verbalized having a hernia it healed itself. Usually when I talk about something great/horrible out loud it doesn't happen. I might be right on this one. Or I might not.

thursday night's alright for fighting

I live across the street from a wonderful drinking establishment called THE SILVER SPUR. It's a place of glory previously unknown to me. There are spankings by spatula, an occasional opportunity to wash glasses for beer, and more often then not breasts. Last night none of those things happened, at least that I saw. Last night there was a fight. If you listened to the participants afterwards there were chariots and bears and flaming honeydew melons and Rasputin rose from that water grave to help the mob secure victory! But as an biased bystander, with part of the story, it goes like this: Guy 1 gets mouthy, Lady 1 tries to throw him out, Guy1 comes back in, Guy 1 kicks Lady 1 in the back, then runs outside Guys 2-9 run out after him, I mosey out to watch, Guy 1 is on the ground, Guy 1 is up, Guy 1 takes off his belt, Guy 3 kicks him 3 times, 2 times falling on his ass, Guy 1 runs down the street, I go inside. Everything else is here say from that point on, but I am pretty sure I saw Guy 1's belt in possession of Guy 4, like a trophy. In honor of the fight I went to the jukebox and with the help of Tony put together a quick mix. The whole point of this story is to show you the mix. Our table appreciated it. Everyone else was to busy patting Rasputin on the back.

• Street Fighting Man - The Rolling Stones
• Mama Said Knock You Out - LL Cool J
• Hurricane - Bob Dylan
• Fight the Power - Public Enemy

Realizing today we should have put Saturday Night's Alright for Fighting on there. Next time.

We were perfect when we started...

Whit brought it to my attention in the dining room today I haven't updated in a week. A bunch of fun stuff happened, so we'll start with this and move on.

This saturday (April 14th) was the wedding. I didn't take many pictures, but I did take this one of the first dance of my cousin Amber and her new husband Ryan. I got to meet the family, see my parents, I danced a little too. I ended up going stag, which was fine. There were no white drugs, no sex in bathrooms, no knocked over tables, nothing more embarrassing than an average night out with me. It was just the way it was supposed to be. Now don't get me wrong, there were shots with my dad and a dozen or so free beers and the requisite hitting on taken women, but not on the Katrina level that was predicted. There is definitely something that runs in a Booth's blood that makes for quite the party participant. The youngest of the 3 cousins was the maid of honor and well on her way to vegas drunk before the food was even served. My aunt was running around trying to round up single girls to introduce to me. It was exquisite.

More to come.

I can party, it's the blogging that is suspect

I am always looking for new opportunities to get Vegas Drunk in places that are not Vegas, so in that pursuit I will be attending the LA Blogger Party with Whit. It should be very exciting for all parties involved. I will be wearing a short skirt and no panites.

in case of rapture

As a child, many of my days were spent going to school; a private, non-denominational, although attached to a baptist church, christian school. Actually, every day of education from when I had my own nap pad to a diploma were spent there. We can talk about what it did to me as a person another time. One thing it did hook me up with was a fear of the rapture. Now that fear has pretty much left my mind now, but when I was kid it was in full effect, especially the first couple of years in high school. If there was non-school day when I didn't hang out with anyone, and I called a couple of friends and they weren't home, I would immediately start worrying the rapture had happened. Everyone got picked up and I missed the boat. I had my own rapture test though. His name was Dustin Schramm. If I thought the rapture had gone down without me I would call the one person I was friends with who I knew would have been picked up. If he was home, good, no rapture, I was safe. If he wasn't I would go to my second source, CNN.

Needless to say the rapture didn't happen any of those times I did.

The point was yesterday felt like a rapture day. Not that I thought anyone had been raptured, I don't think many of my friends would fall into that boat at this point in our lives, but that after I got off work I couldn't get a hold of anyone. So instead of tracking down Dustin Schramm I went home and drank a beer. Then I went to bed.

A small part of me still wondered though.

Each time you turn a corner, you are right back to where you were

I read a book over the last couple of days. Life After God by Douglas Coupland. I broke a tooth in half eating a salad. I remember hearing about existential crisis (<---definately my head right now) when taking a class and reading The Stranger by Camus. The book reading and the tooth breaking have put me in full crisis mode. The pain from the tooth is minor. I don't even miss it. I don't trust my body, and it doesn't trust/like me. We have an understanding. Maybe. But minutes after the tooth breaking I realized that I had to figure out a way to do something with my half tooth still in my mouth. I could leave it and embrace my future as quality Antelope Valley resident, or I could go to a dentist and spend money I don't have to reach some sort of healthier alternative. So I have that going for me. I keep going over and over in my head how I am going to take care of this and at the same time I finish reading this book. I'm fucked, mentally. I flip-flop from walking out of the house getting in my car and never coming back, taking the 300 bucks and hole in my mouth to a new place or falling in line. Going to college, getting a career, buying a car, buying a house, getting married, having kids, smoking cigars, hanging myself. I woke up with a brand new exciting stomach pain. It must be the ultimate me trying to get out, ripping my insides to pieces in the process. I have never hated myself so much before. I have never been happier. I am going to the dentist.

vegas drunk

I was reading a book that talked about stages of drunk. For me, my maximum drunk is vegas drunk. Vegas drunk only occurs in vegas, hence the name. Untill last night.

Let's set the scene. Tortilla-less breakfast burrito for breakfast. Dinner salad and french fries for lunch. 2 large draft Guiness. 1 Brandy & Soda. 1 Corona. Soy Beans. Sake Bomb. Sake Bomb. Sake Bomb. Sake Shot. Sapporo. Sapporo. Sake Bomb. Sake Bomb. Sapporo.

BOOM!

VEGAS DRUNK.

I never really know I am vegas drunk untill I fall asleep. Not in a bed. Usually at a table (see above). I don't think I slept at table last night. I did dance on a chair and almost fall onto the table a couple of times. I remember the waiter with the headset saying "Anthony, be careful. Dont fall on the table." But I don't think I slept. Not till we got in the car. And everyone else got out and went to a strip club. And I slept.

Vegas drunk is good. The best thing about it is the bloody marys in the morning. But there are no bloody marys this morning. I just need a ride to my car.

in the business they call this a "booth-date"

*a booth-date is an update on a booth, particularly myself.

It's time for a list again. Here we go:

• That map is the route I will someday take to Minneapolis. I don't know when, I don't know for how long, but it has been decided that I must go.
• Soy-Taco is a wonderful tasty treat.
• Black Out Tuesdays have now spread to include MuthaFuckinMondays and Where's my pants? Wednesdays. A 3 day holiday drinking festival that sometimes includes a Surprise Sunday. My liver should be moving out before I make it Minneapolis.
• I have regained my faith in Red Bull and Vodka.
• I am becoming a cheaper date by the day.
• Most of my friendships are getting stronger, some are falling apart, a couple are gone forever.
• I have a filthy mind and a filthier mouth.
• I spend more time outside.

crosses on calendars - mix

I've been putting this mix together for a couple of days, trying to find familiar stuff and new/different stuff to make it cozy enough but interesting enough that it makes it through more than one listen. I made it not so much for a friend, but with a friend in mind. I wasn't going to put it up, just burn it and give it away, but my landlord (and pal) whit put up some post about seven songs on saturday and I thought "perfect, I have mix!" This one makes me pretty happy, it turned out well and is more suited towards late night driving listening than early morning jogging listening. Now I must get back to the outdoors and my beer. Enjoy.

Crosses on Calendars - http://www.megaupload.com/?d=YO137BKZ

• Running To Stand Still - U2
• Jaws Theme Swimming - Brand New
  
• Outro In No Minor - The Anniversary
  
• Trees Get Wheeled Away - Bright Eyes
  
• I Keep A Diary - Braid
  
• Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels) - The Arcade Fire
  
• Untitled - Against Me!
  
• Summer In The City - Regina Spektor
  
• Ships - The Weight
  
• Anybody Wanna Take Me Home - Ryan Adams
  
• Mexico - Samiam
  
• Rusted Wheel - Silversun Pickups
  
• Calendar Girl - The Stars
  

the disco before the breakdown

The name of this blog, both of them, come from a song on an Against Me! ep called "The Disco Before the Breakdown". Something about that thing hasn't hit home so much as it has today. I'm drinking water and coffee, trying to shake the booze from my head from last night. I'm putting off showering before going to work. I am checking my outbox/outgoing phone calls. I'm trying to remember last night, and the last time it was this hard to remember. I told my friend Kierin I am a walking bonfire. I think I might be right. I'm not sure if I am at the disco or the breakdown. I'll keep you posted.

pray for cambria

In less than a month, I will be attending a wedding in Cambria. Weddings are fun, I like to cry at them. It is for my half-cousin (she is a full person, just half booth blood) who I have never met. I haven't met any of my half-family (see previous parenthetical statement). This makes me excited because I like to meet new people. Now here is where things get interesting. My dad and stepmom are flying out from Texas. At christmas we (myself and my ex) told them that we would go, so they booked a double room/suite/townhome/thing to stay at. Well now I am still going. I told my dad a couple weeks ago that I was going to bring a date. No problem. I talked to him last week, and he made sure that I was still coming and was bringing a date. I told him yes, but that things had changed from date to platonic friends and that we were still going to go together and just hang out and fun. No Problem. So 2 days ago I get a call from him to tell me that my half-aunt told him that there going to be some single girls at the wedding (my half-cousins, all 3 of them, are within 2 years of my age in either direction). No Problem. Then later I get a message from him saying he wanted to talk about how I was getting there. Strange, because it had been discussed everytime that I and whoever was going with me were going to drive up the day of the wedding.

Yesterday he called me and told me my stepmom wasn't comfortable with someone she hadn't met staying in the same room.

WHAT!

It was fine when it was my girlfriend and there was the possibility of them waking up to us bumping uglies. And It was fine when it wasn't my girlfriend with the same possibilities. But now that it's platonic it's not ok??!?!?!

From the same woman who was "doing" my dad in our house while he was still married to my mom (who coincidentally was "doing" someone else too, but just not in our house)? The same woman who the first time I met was crying on the front porch at 2 in the morning asking to come in and see my dad? Yes, the SAME woman.

What does that say about her faith in my choice in friends/women? What does that say about what she thinks about me?

The idea was thrown out that me and my friend tim go to the wedding instead. Tim and me, both single, at a wedding, probably a worse idea than my platonic friend coming with me.

What this brings me to is this: Pray for Cambria. I am PISSED! So this wedding is going to get me on overdrive. I'll still wear my long sleave shirt (as requested by every person alive who will be there who's paid more into social security than me) and I'll still shake hands and be polite, but as soon as the I DO'S are DONE, so is cambria. Sleaves will be rolled up. Drinks will be drank. Drugs will be done. A whirlwind of booth is going to go through that reception, and those people will never see me again.

I'm thinking of wearing the suit the principal from the breakfast club wore so I can say "you mess with the bull and you get the horns" and mean it.

sleep

...makes you realize that the night before was good. Sometimes you have to be away from it to figure it all out.

i came to see you up there in intensive care

i told whit today if i had a stroke while watching basketball to let me die. i couldn't afford to go to the hospital.

i was right.

i can't afford anything. i don't want to.

i had an afternoon/evening that was short on substance and long on everything else.

joni mitchell was right, but she couldn't see the forest for the trees.

i must sleep, alone and comfortably.

a mine gutted of it's contents

I sat in an empty house, ate a burrito and watch a movie. The Last Kiss. At some point in the movie everyone was in an empty house, by either decisions of others or their own. I identified with them. I remember when I moved out of this house on avenue M, when it was empty of all of it's contents, it felt like I had never been there before. And it felt like I had always been there and belonged nowhere else. That house had a lot of windows. I am beging to think my happiness has a large correlation to the size/amount of windows where I am living.

There were a few arguments among the characters in the movie. And I couldn't help to think about how most of the time no one understands our decisions or motivations for them. We are all there, at one end of the conversation, trying to explain ourselves, knowing that the other person can't/won't understand. And we all end up on the otherside too. If we could just remember what it is like from one side to the other, life would be better.

last one out of liberty city, burn it to the ground

Right around the time I started drving, I began listening to a lot of Less Than Jake. All the time. I hated Lancaster, I was not enjoying the demise of my parents marriage, and I wanted to move away. Today I was listening to "Hello Rockview" and all those feelings came flooding back. Or rather memories of those feelings. And some of them are still true, and some are long dead. And it is making me feel like I sold out, or am about to, the next chance I get. I don't like it. I guess I'll just have to give away some soup.

who's that lady who won the boston marathon and only ran a mile?

I went jogging today. First time I have been running for the sake of running since I could grow facial hair. Being that I'm a "punk-rocker" I put on my running shoes, which are also my dancing shoes, and my ass kicking shoes, and my wedding reception shoes, and my... well you get. I have work shoes and non work shoes. (I would only have one pair of shoes if I wouldn't slip all over the place at work) So I put on my van slip-ons, my black dickies, my irreverent t-shirt, grabbed my ipod, a bottle of water, went to a park and started jogging. I did all right. My first mishap was I set my ipod to 25 most played, and apparently I am a drunk with a taste for sad alt-country songs. Not the best soundtrack for physical activity. Maybe I should as seen it as an omen, because my second mishap was just around the corner. We (being me and my jogging partner (yeah, i had a partner, the only thing I do alone is shower and drink)) would jog some then walk then jog then repeat. It was working all right till I decided to puke. There was a lot, so much so I didn't know where it all came from. I felt like I was on SNL and I was in a puke sketch. It was one of the most satisfying vomits of my life.

things you realize at 3:49 in the morning

• sleeping might help you stay alive, i might lead you to missing life
• mid-day waitresses at breakfast restaurants should not be your proofreader
• the purchase of gift(s) for people who know they are getting them, and fail to mention said gift when you see them next, was an ill-concived purchase
• when you think nothing good can come from zoni's, you are right
• never accept a third/fourth party invitation
• always drink free beer
• when you think you will see someone in a bed later, find the nearest sucker, bet him, reap rewards, repeat
• if you leave a building, and you feel you should be stopped, and you're not, you were never wanted to begin with, and you should never go back.
• the surest way to go somewhere again is to say you'll never go back
• if two people say the same thing about someone they have very little personal knowledge of, it's probably right
• but don't believe them till it breaks your heart
• the squeeky wheel gets the grease, especially if you are that wheel, and you are the third/fifth
• when you least expect it, tangled up in blue by bob dylan will make too much sense
• letter writing is a lost art, and there are reasons why our arts are lost
• as soon as you put down in writing you have yourself figured out, the people who you think deserve to know prove that you were just as nieve and boring as you were before.
• 3:49 alone is better than 3:49 betrayed, even if the person didn't know they betrayed you
• i'll make the same mistakes tomorrow
  

i was as fast as carl lewis, on fire

This guy got me. At one point I was standing, then I was laying on the ground, on the other side of the fire. And my hand was bleeding. I thought I had cut it. This morning I found out it was a burn. I didn't know, I've never been on fire before.

Last night at about 9 I baptized myself in the ocean. It wasn't cold, it was perfect. I mean, it was frezzing, but I didn't notice so much. I call it a baptism because it was, an outward gesture reflecting an inner change. It makes me happy.

I am sitting at home now, and I feel really nervous. Actually, I havent eaten since early this morning, so it's probably that. I've got an idea that will cure both.

swimming in the ocean at sunset - mix

Today myself and some members of the DBC are going to do a quick beach camping trip. In honor of the occasion I put together a quick 9 song mix. Enjoy!

swimming in the ocean at sunset

• All Sown Up - Lucero
• Sink Florida Sink - Against Me!
• Boatless Booze Cruise - The Lawrence Arms
• A Perfect Sonnet - Bright Eyes
• In Your Wake - Matt Skiba
• The Desperation's Gone - NOFX
• See America Right - The Mountain Goats
• You Might Be Right - Avail
• Dead End Roads - One Reason
  

we all hide a diary beneath some mattress

I have been accused of thinking that everything is a matter of life and death. And I have been accused that I feel life has to be dramatic and over the top. And I have been accused of holding on to a romantic notion of life that doesn't actually exist.

They were right every time.

I sat around and talked and drank with dan and bill last night, and in somethings they said I realized that all of those things are true about me. And that I like it. We talked about how experiencing pain is better than not experiencing anything at all. How, no matter how quickly it is come to or how wrong it may be, having an opinion about something is better than not. It can be hard to rely on yourself for your happiness, and it can be hard to find happiness in others, but it's doable. As much as I enjoy spending time with friends, sometimes nothing feels so good as lonely walk in a grocery store.

I thought I had a reason for all of this, but I think it's just for me.

I'm going shopping.

the tyranny of lakes

I spent a couple days at this lake a few months ago, on the occasion of a friends wedding. It was a great weekend with new experiances, rebonded friendships, sunsets. I am reminded of it almost everyday. There is a picture of my "roommates" kissing in front of the lake next to the couch. There are random pictures of people I know posing in front of the lake and/or dancing floating around the internet. There are pictures saved on my computer. And I come across these and remember. That's the case this morning. The trip was 4-5 months ago, far enough away to view it with some perspective but not too far off where you only remember the good stuff. There were the same old fights, brand new laughs (49,50 bagels?!?!), and more than likely, conversations that will never happen again. I woke up early one of the mornings and went for a walk around the chalet's and cabins, my legs burning from the hills/usual lack of excersize. I hadn't been on a walk in a long time. I've done more walking since.

contents might contain song about marrying a cat

Despite the feline community's apparent hatred of all things travel, I still enjoy a good song about inter-species marriage. The initial setup for this mix was the idea that someone else would have made it for me. I have done that before, but it is interesting to see what songs you think would get to you now that wouldn't get to you before. Somewhere along the way I ditched that idea just to throw something together as a soundtrack to the weekend I hope I end up having. I'm going to work a bunch, travel a little, and probably drink in quantity somewhere between those two. Come monday morning I hope it worked. If not, I'll still smile. I'm including the tracklist so you know what your getting into this time.

Have a good weekend.

Anthony

Para Todos!

• Water Manes At The Block's End - Latterman
• None of the Above - The Weakerthans
• Please Come Home - Dustin Kensrue
• Cat Heaven - Jets To Brazil
• The Ramblin' Boys of Pleasure - The Lawrence Arms
• Samson - Regina Spektor
• So I Fall - Small Brown Bike
• Chemistry - Jawbreaker
• Old Dead Tree - Defiance, Ohio
• Glasshouse Tarot - Sparta
• All Night Long - Lifetime
• New Amsterdam - Elvis Costello & The Attractions
• I Know It's Ture But I'm Sorry To Say - Violent Femmes
  

mr chandler, grocery shopper

Parallel universes exist, and they are somewhere on aisle 12 next to the nail clippers and eye lash curlers. Let me explain.

If you know about my new window, then you know I recently settled down in a new location. One of the things that comes with moving, in addition to trips to the dump and celebratory/sorrowful shots, is shopping at a new grocery store. There is a Vons next to the new location of my bank, and there is another one on the route I take to work. They are about 5 miles apart. Yesterday I shopped at the Vons on the way to work for some Jagermeister and baby thing, neither one for me, fortunately and unfortunately. I browsed a lot and made my purchase. Today I went to the Vons by my bank for some fruit (thanks Dan!), water, and stuff for veggie burritos. It was like shopping at the other Vons, but it was different. The workers looked very similar, but here they were older and plumper. Things were in the same relative area, some same aisles even, but flipped. I would remember seeing something yesterday, went to where I thought it should be, and it wouldn't be there. But if I turned around, there it was. It was a very strange day at the grocery store, and if you don't believe me, well, I forgot to buy beer. That isn't like me a all.

Here's the title explanation. I shop at Vons because of location(s) and that club card thing. At one of the previous residences where I still have keys, a roommate of mine applied for a club card. She used the phone number for the house, which was already attached to an account from the previous house I lived in. (Apparently I also collect phone numbers.) So now when I shop I put in my old phone number to save the cash. When the checker hands me the receipt, they look at the bottom, see her name, assume I must be her husband (what a poor judge of character these checkers are. Most of my purchases are of the alcoholic nature and I could be married? Well, it (didn't) work for my parents, so anything is possible.). Then they make this face, because usually they just checked my driver's license to make sure I am old enough to buy the things I buy, and my name is not "Mr Chandler", but they give in and say "Have a good day, Mr Chandler".

Strange times at the store indeed.

the thing that drove away the rain

picture this. i wake up, there is no sound of children, it's raining. it's beautiful. whit is sitting at the dining room table. he tells me that he made a quick little rainy day mix, and i said what a great idea, i am going to do it too. so i sit at my computer and stop putting it together. it stops raining. so here are 11 songs to listen to while it's raining, or while it's not. whatever.

no more rain

have a nice day

the happiest days of your life

After waking up from a night of hanging out with sergio, which, to the un-initiated, usually involves way too many drinks, I decided I am going to make a short list of some of the things that make me happy. In no particular order:

• any time i am able to do an exagerated fist pump while singing along to music, either live or over a stereo
• taking blurry pictures
• wearing a tie when i don't/not supposed to
• being the passenger on silent car rides, both happy and sad
• being the driver on loud car rides
• playing songs for the people they are about, preferably outside
• explaning to total strangers that i have a tattoo on my arm because it's what john wilkes booth said after he killed lincoln. that and their faces when i say it
• crying at weddings
• getting choked up in a situation that shouldn't make me choked up and trying to play it off
• unexpected phone calls/emails/messages
• this

have a good day.

10thousandth of a second and everything that is wrong with america

Here we are. 2007. Information is exchanged in time that we cant even comprehend, not even in NBA terms. I ask the computer: "How many times did france fall?" and I learn that in in world war 2 there was a battle called the battle of france, and it was also called the fall of france. and it was May 10th. That's only six days from May 16th, which is that great Lagwagon song about everything you have ever lived, right? Just another saturday, right? And at this point it all ties together. Another saturday, or thursday night, or friday morning, what is the difference really? 10 thousandth of a second to say "yes" or "no" or "because of everything that has ever happened, from the stairs as a child to everything i said to my friends last night". maybe the towers fail us. maybe they failed us years ago. because, you know, as they say, since 9/11 it's been hard. maybe not for me. or maybe not any different. so how do you spend your nights now? post -9/11, post adolescence, post opinion, post sacrifice, post anything that might have a built in reason? well, let's be honest. you wait around for an answer to a question that was the response to a statement about something that you honestly meant. and if you haven't learned anything yet, tonight you might learn that honesty isn't always the best policy. or you'll learn to keep your mouth shut. or you'll learn that as long as you do what keeps your heart honest, you'll be ok, even if not tonight, while you loose to a buzzer beater that took longer than it took for you to fall in love for the first time.

happy v-day, neither one of us won

Happy Valentine's Day (and happy birthday to my mom and other fortunate souls to be born today). I will be celebrating with booze, and with that in mind I put together a mix to be the soundtrack of my day. 14 songs, some happy and some sad. The above picture is from postsecret. It helped in song selection. So, whether you plan on having a good day, a bad day, or a little of both, listen to this mix, think of me, and raise a glass. We should meet at some point.

happy v-day neither one of us won

rain meat and cat piss

short and sweet. i left two houses today. they were miles apart. it was raining both times. i also decided to give up meat. an impromto but heart felt dedication to bobb. the white cat in this house, who i think is named norman, just pissed in my suitcase. good luck if he gets anything to eat from me now, bastard.

Keys they complicate my life.

As a child I collected keys. I had a key ring with all sorts of different keys on it. I think I had every second key to every door/padlock/chest/drawer in my childhood home. We moved out when I was seventeen, and I threw all those keys away. I started a new collection soon after that. A couple of car keys, a couple house keys, a key to a lockbox, a nice small set. Just like the collection it soon grew to include mailbox keys, townhome keys, keys for a couple houses, for my room, for the garage, for my second room, for a door that never got used. When I moved out of that house, the glorious house on Avenue M in Lancaster, I got rid of all those keys. This is the point of origin for my current collection of keys, my most impressive to date. In chronilogical order: 3 truck keys, 2 lostwood house keys, 2 sacramento house keys, 1 gas cap key, 1 j-14 house key, 1 bike lock key, 1 texas house key, 1 storage unit key, 2 whit's house keys. That's where I stand now. I really enjoy having all these keys in my pocket. I think it has something to do with all these available safe havens, or that I am trustworthy enough to be trusted with keys, or it might just be that I like having keys that I never use.

Resurection February!

it's been a smidgen of time, hasn't it? hopefully everyone is doing well. i have a new window to look out and a new view looking back at me (see above). This place (blog, not space i look out window from) should be getting pretty cozy and well worn soon enough. Come back tomorrow, you'll be glad you did.

this place is dead

but in it's place, something new


Drunken Bicycle

go!