Monthly Archives: May 2005

Long Weekend.


I went to deadwood, for too gamble. I may do a long write up in a bit.


Suffice to say, a partier was me.



Another thing I hate (I have decided to dedicate this blog to hate for the time being). . .  people who can’t write their way out of a paper bag, but somehow manage to get something published, (seriously, try to read the excerpts) while most the talented people I know languish in obscurity. It fucking kills me.


Those on my subscriber list who have somehow navigated the publishing industry, please explain this phenomenon to me. Is it akin to the inexplicable and quasi-mystical ability of Uwe Boll to continue securing directing work?

Stolen from many people:


Something Fun to Do


1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.
5. Don’t search around and look for the coolest book you can find. Do what’s actually next to you.


“The lantern that had glimmered within the plot on the first night they arrived was gone.”

You know what song I like to listen too when I’m gearing up to whup the living shit out of someone? Wheelz of Steel, by Outkast.

Do I know why? No, I do not. I curled a buck fifteen today, a couple of times. That’s like, two kate mosses (mossi?)


I do like Ben Affleck, though. As a person. As an actor, it’s hard for me not to fixiate on Daredevil and Reindeer games, but Phantoms is highly underated.

 I was thinking about something, and I’m wondering if it’s true for others:

I was never a baby bird.


What I mean is, I never had a hero, or a role model, or a goal before.

Don’t missunderstand, I’m not saying those things were not there for me to have. I’m saying, I was never a baby bird – I never imprinted on them.

I was mentally and physically strong when I left home to make my way in the world – all full of potential – but I had no sense of myself, no sort of morality, no template of how to behave, no memes for deconstructing the actions of others, so I foundered.


(Foundering is where you run a horse too hard and then give it water, and it drinks too deeply and dies)


That’s what I did. For five years or so, I foundered, not on water, but on other people. It has taken real work on my part to become something other then formative, someone other then a vessel for potential.

Identity is precious, isn’t it?

This will probably be a strange post to read if you just know me a bit – since I’m a huge, loud, pain in the ass in person.


But I think it will make sense to some of you when I say that with this realization, I can finally start.

I’m empty. I don’t even know what empty is, but that’s what I am.

I feel too muted to reach out to anybody.


Like the man said, “Cotton wool gets in my eyes.”


There’s so many options arrayed around me, so many compelling and calling things, that I sit in neutral. I can’t make my head work, I can’t think about one thing long enough.


I don’t know what to do. I’ve never known what to do. If I knew what to do, I’d do it so goddamned good you’d feel it from where you’re sitting, but there’s no goal for me out there in the fog. Fuck it.