If I were
January  2, 2008

pretty on top of being awesome....

No body would like me.< br/>

Amanda
January  5, 2008

Will you marry me?
http://www.youtube.com/v/hleH1eFMe6M

A Catholic service?

"When a person is pointed out by others as a fool or a '0' he must take it in that sense that there is this vast empty space within him which he has ignored or which he has found a little hard to fill i.e. a wee bit harder than the rest that he has filled.. He must be self-effacing though, as it will do him good because the biggest zeroes in life later come up from the marsh as fascinating white horses.." Shiksha S. Suvarna

I am
January  6, 2008

in between gravel and dirt
the dander settles inside me
backslash
he says she loves loving
who doesn't
the sick are ruling the world
I give you the clean word

Assault on Atheism
January  6.1, 2008

Today was a stress on my faith. I know I've had a charmed life full of mystery, torture and riches beyond imagination. I woke up and ate breakfast at slim goodies; got the tex-mex special. As I waited in line I told my mom of the upcomimg marage and the desire to do so in the Church I grew up in. She told me I'd have to develope a relationship with a priest to make the pope happy. I walked to my table and got the best seat in a packed house. Beside me sat a guy with a zero shaved into his head. Uh? No big deal, just a coinidence because of the O hi O game in town. The zero reminded me of my bus ride from the French Quarter yesterday. A huge black man wearing a Los Angeles jersy sat beside me. The number on the yellow microfiber was 08. I asked him if he was from LA; he said, "no, just like the team". I wished him well on his evening of beer, weed and crawfish. We shook hands.

After breakfast I walked to the smallest Eastern Catholic church in New Orleans. It was strange going to a church with positive intent instead of educational purposes. As I sang and read from the prayer book I got to a part that I had to lie. It was a declearation of belief in God and Jesus. I don't like to lie. It makes me feal bad. But I did it because I knew that I had to do so for my love. I put the page markers on the text so I could go back an photograph the spot that made me cry. I looked down at the shirt I was wearing. I got it from giving blood at the american red cross. It's got a drop of blood with wings growing out of it. My mom got me into giving blood.

After recieving communion of sourdough soaked in wine and being bless with holy water the priest placed more sour dough in a basket on a table fumbling with a candle and a painting of christ. I strugled in my mind. The story of Satin matches up with me so well my imagination started playing games on me. I'm in the True Church planning on lieing to a priest so I can have a family with children I plan on being honest to: there is no god. At that moment the painting of Jesus fell from the stand; the priest picked it up kissed it and smiled. He were's glasses as thick as coke bottles. The wife of one of the priests (easter catholic) took my prayer book. I asked her for it back because I wanted to take a photo of the text. My place mark was moved???? I went through the rest of the books she was holding. I couldn't find it?

I went with father James into the back room and made my confession: I haven't gone to church for 15 years, had sex outside of marrage, had a marrage outside the church, got divorced, was disrespectful to my parents and used the name of God in fain. Then we talked about what Amanda and I needed to do to get married within the church. Finally I told him I was going to become a Police officer and inquired if he would bless my weapon so that I would do no wrong with it. He said he could arange that.

On my walk back to home I thought how for most people the events of the day would have been proof that ether god existed or I was an agent of the devil; more spicifically the devil in carnate. My rational mind kicked in and analized my situation: I desire peace on earth and freedom for individuality. I don't match the definition of devil. How could these events have taken place? What force could cause this magic? I thought about aliens. They could be watching me and have technoligies that could cause highly improbable events to take place. No. No. There is no reason to believe in aliens. That's silly.

Well, now I'm sitting at the computer typing away. I'm mixing red wine with the bottle of holy water they gave me. I just got a text from Amanda. She's bleeding so that means we can have a ligitamate family. I am positive that I have the most sceptical mind ever in the existance of human kind. That thought reminded me of a thought I had on my way home. A term I imagine will eventually become very popular: Selfless egotism. I thought as I passed Trent Reznors old house on Collisium street that I am the most interesting person in history. And not only the history of the past but the history of the future. That's a pretty chuncky statement to roll through ones head. But then I realized, I am not the most special person in the universe. I am just a person. It's my life that's special and that belongs to the universe.

Will and t estimate
January  8, 2008

I know all of you know that I wanted to be fed to the sharks. My kingdom I want the earth to lionhearted (inhearited??) so it's redundant stating where I want my things to go. However, Now I want to make a small revision on my last rights. I would like my brain extracted and preserved!! woopp ahhh!!! Thank you for your attention.

I know
January  8.1, 2008

The CHRIST. But I don't know Sin. What a roller coaster ride my friends! I've been to every corner of the Universe and it is beautiful. Jesus is alright with me. In fact I think I've become his number one fan. Us Infinitologists know the mind of god and it is Ultra. Now the funny thing about Jesus is that he never really existed. He didn't walk on water. He didn't bring back the dead. And he didn't die for the sins of a hungry sexy chick. There are just some laws that no one can break. Those laws were never created; they (U =) just R. We can see Jesus every solstice if you watch the light. And he will continue to rise till the end of the world.

What a numerical it is for a man who probably never existed to have so many fans. God bless 801

She knows
January  17, 2008

Ming Madness
Hallways and heartbeats, abandoned 9th ward streets
Walking along the river at the crack of dawn
Holding hands during Mass, lying to save my ass
Eating beignets at Café du Monde

Mini-van’s in the shop, wannabe cop
Orange Tustin Inn, our favorite hotel
Adjusting the seats, my aversion to beets
Giving in to the glittery lights of hell

Your piercing eyes, planning my alibis
I love what you’ve done with your beautiful mansion
Bathroom scares at the beach, you really should teach
No matter your body fat, you’re still handsome

Out of whack knees, uh oh where are the keys?
Sorry for spilling wine on your pants
Fruit waffles at Plums, Long Beach slums
My two left feet showing you how to dance

Eyelash wish making, Holy Spirit body shaking
Noah…Moses…what’s his name?
Alley of the Pines, watching for creepy signs
Summit and Benedict and Robert Lane

Ruby’s on the pier, Blonde blond beer
Slurring my words – “youuuu aaaaaand meeeee”
Soap shampoo, shoo birdie shoo
Gotta get my frozen yogurt sugar free

No stoops to be found in this pretentious town
Everyday, a shirt with a different phrase
Bloody sheets, no more pigs’ feet
There’d better be cheese at the end of this maze

Eating in strip malls, NOPD morning calls
Riding 40 hours on a dirty Greyhound
You always mocksies the baby talksies
Take me to your church, even though it’s torn down

Cali’s perfect weather, being live together
What in the world is a jimmy?
Downing Bushmills and Plan B morning after pills
Your fasting diet better make me skinny

Low self-esteem, shells from the Philippines
Potential penis disaster diverted
My big nose, resenting private roads
All would be perfect if one of us converted

Muses and flings, digital rings
Nodding to Trent, your new BFF
Newport longboarder, ming hasemorder
Trying to decide which one of us is deaf

Warming the walls of your gallery, impressed by my salary
Frolicking across your mansion lawn
My herpes face, no such thing as race
Sunsets aren’t the same since you’ve been gone

Catholicism is cool and JFK was no fool
801 – your favorite number
Facing spiritual hurdles, hanging with turtles
Landing in a hospital due to lack of slumber

“Terrible” is your word, evangelicals are absurd
I only want your painting if it’s not some sort of trade
Goldfrapp gets me going and my blood flowing
Demonstrating your sex skills on camera at Buddha’s Fave

Supernature and Year Zero, your bike is your hero
Random name plug – ROBERT SUTTON
Childhood dreams of rape, super girlfriend needs a cape
Bowling alley jack up and the reset button

Energizing with a Rockstar, you loving my car
This chunky monkey needs to lose some weight
Blogging together in bed, relieved to have bled
Wondering who lived in that gargantuan estate

Marvel comic heaven, sleeping through the end of 2007
Revealing your genius at Three Thirty Three
Spell check dependent, I’ll destroy your porn when you send it
“I’d love you if you had” will always stay with me

Stealing glass stones, admiring our phones
“Look at me, it’s beautiful”- I’ll never forget
I miss you for realsies and all of our mealsies
The trip was worth every penny, even if we’re both now in debt

Making science warm, metaphysic storm
If I were pretty on top of being awesome, I’d have not one friend
Juno was funny, I actually did slay a bunny
It was Lovely 2 C U, and I hope to again

Power
January  19, 2008

Chords - words - life and death
Decisions - black white
Words - in the field - meaningless
Buttons shake up the magnets

F11 - AK47 - f16 fighter - control
He gave them blood of god
The lines in the sand erode
Saint James is spitting again

The crazies call me crazy
Down the hatch go The
Seroquel - Depakote - Zyprexa
Everything's OK now, OM

In the name of the father may,
These tools do no wrong
Prick on the index
Reject the bullet - save the blood

It only took Po-Lice seven minutes
I want to be on the team
OOOhhh Raaaahhh
This is our Crescent City.

First Memories
January  19.1, 2008

It's no secret that my memory for nostalgia isn't the strongest two, in the by four, in the house. I distinctly remember toys behind one of my neighbors couches and the smell of old age. Va ugly I remember being at a families house across the way and the three girls they produced. Later those girls would become my step sisters. I enjoyed playing with them and I was more than happy to be a fashion victim for their transvestite en devours. Perhaps that's why my father has a fear of me being gay. The lip stick was not in the right place. I was a child without even the faintest idea of sinfulness, let alone the concept of deviant behavior. Swinging from the weeping willow was just as interesting as wearing the cloths of Barbie.

I remember being in my dad's cinder block garage and googling over his motor bike. I still have the scare on the back of my hand from touching the piping hot exhaust. I'm sure I was blamed for my crazy careless behavior. I've assumed responsibility beyond my years from the very beginning. When I touched the symbol of the Nation State, my patriarch took pride. But these photo enhanced memories don't even come close to my first mental visual memory. That belongs to the craw Dad.

This is a crawdad. It's a crab like thingy; a bottom feeder. They are my first memory. You might think this a strange thing to remember with all the tops and toys a young middle class man like myself was afforded, but I assure you it is not. Yes, they do look like they were spawned from a class C Japanese horror movie, but then again, so do most of the creepy crawling things.

I remember the exorcizing entrapment. An active 4 year old hunter doesn't wait for the crawdads to walk about but instead actively lifts rocks that defy gravity in their reduced weight state in water. When a rock reveals a prime suspect the trick is bait and trap. You see, if you try to catch these little devils from the top or front a systematic response is triggered and the crawdad's tail convulses and sends it at the speed of light in a reverse direction. Therefor, the hunter splits into a team. One hand is open ready to snare the crawdad from behind in the path of least resistance, while the other hand works ever so carefully to trigger the reaction so that the crawdad places itself in the trap hand.

Once that is done, the biology lessons begin. I love my childhood.

Suffering, Sacrifice and Salvation
January  22, 2008

I will be the first to admit I've dived into the arena of masochism: Suffering for no other reason than experiencing the pain: Meaningless pointless symbolic suffering: Touching the stove because it's hot. The pain is a reminder that we are mere animals and that we define ourselves by our senses. We define everything by our senses, even our sense of self. The scar tissue reminds us cutters of a point in time: memory that one can touch.

There is too much senseless suffering in our world: from people starving in Africa to the problem child heights of Beverly Hills, pain seems to permeate. The Buddhist wisdom that attachment leads to suffering is overly simplistic. Being attached to nothing and thus achieving nirvana is about as profound as stating that clean air is good. In fact, attachment to nothing can, in and of itself, be an attachment. I understand this thoroughly as a minimalist. I'm attached to my girl, my bike, my board, my knife and my life. But knowing reality, I know that all of these can be taken at any time. Accepting reality is not enlightenment, it is basic. Observe, Improvise, Adapt, Overcome. Wisdom is knowing that the now is all and we have a responsibility to provide more nows for descendants not yet imagined.

Suffering, not of one's choice, is a sign that something needs changing. Suffering should be analyzed. What needs overcoming? The Buddhists and Christians are at the extreme ends of the spectrum. The Buddhists want to end their "cycle" of life; the Christians want to extend it into eternity. The reality is that we get what we get. And we shouldn't fight our neighbors because if one goes far enough the neighbor turns into the self. Does that mean we should give everything we own to John and Missy? I think not. I wouldn't want John and Missy to give their stuff to me. This train of thought goes into property and I'll leave that for another time. Suffice it to say that we all own our body; everyone owns the air, water and fields of wheat.

I've never understood the "sacrifice" of Jesus. If he was the son of god and knew where he was going, a place of eternal bliss, what was he actually sacrificing. His exit from this world and a three day trip to hell seems hardly like a sacrifice for being god. As an Eastern Catholic I'm kind of upset that he sacrificed himself. There was plenty more work to be done. And I have a difficult time imagining inherited metaphoric parental sin. I have no problem knowing the inherited sin of my ancestors: The New Americans. We've revenged this land and built mini malls on native burial sights. And I'm even a fan of the space conscious grave. We're paying for the sins of our forefathers with every mutant frog and extinct species. We've inherited a sacrifice, a sacrifice for the name of the capitalist dollar. Suffice it to say, I don't see the use in senseless sacrifice.

If I use one hand to cut off the other it must be valid and well reasoned. If I kill life, it better for the food and hide (weeds in the garden exempt - someone gottah sacrifice for the beauty). The Muslim suicide bombers and Boots of rampant Nationalists sacrifice all they have. For what? Failed ideologies and religion. It's all nonsense. Sacrifice is such an ambiguous term. I'm sacrificing my time right now to write this. Most would say that it's not a sacrifice because I enjoy doing it. So does that mean not wanting to do something is what makes sacrifice, sacrifice? No. I don't do plenty of things I don't want to do. Us eCatholics know meta sacrifice the best. We're attached to it.

Salvation also has confused me. What is it that I need saving from? Hell? What is hell? Where is hell? Why should I believe in hell? This world needs salvation, and it is Green and smells of Earth (period -). What's your base line bro?

Nottin' Honeyz
January  22.1, 2008

Peanut butter,
Whole wheat,
banana - not fried.

What does the king want?
Throw him a bone.

Empty hallway,
dim lights,
fountain bowl - jacked

The king needs a queen
My little princes.

Homeland security addition
January  23, 2008

In a recent trip to California on a Greyhound bus in southwest Texas we pulled over for a illegal alien / drug search. The men in rip resistant green boarded the bus packin' 9 millimeters and walked down the aisle. A young bow legged Homeland boarder agent with a ten gallon hat poked down the rows asking everyone if they were American. I found this to be a strange question because everyone from the north pole to the tip of chili is an American. I was going to say, "I'm American if you consider New Orleans a member of the union", but decided not to be smart and answered yes.

While the dogs were sniffing my luggage an Asian couple were having a problem with an agent. The girl was obviously a US resident or a master of accents. Her boyfriend however didn't speak English that well. Through the discourse I discovered that he is a Viet Nam citizen visiting her girlfriends parents. The agent asked him for a green card. which he didn't have. I over heard the agents outside the bus, "should we detain him?" was asked to the cowboy. He replied, "How much time do we have left?" Then the cowboy asked the driver how much behind schedule we were: an hour and a half.

I sat in my seat wondering why their weren't any Geiger counters accompanying the German Shepard's and why the Viet Nam guy needed a green card and not a passport. It may just be me but I felt as though the Men in Green are a prelude to a more severe and intrusive biased Nationalism. Maybe I'm just being paranoid. I can easily look past a cowboy Homeland agent using improper geographical language but I can't help but think our bus would have been held up had the Vietnamese fellow been Arabic.

Maybe it wasn't the slanted eyes that got our bus back on schedule. Maybe it was the fuzzy teddy bear that he used as a pillow that fostered his travel without proper identification. At any speed, we arrived at the next gas station were dozens of "south of the boarder" neighbors were waiting outside in the cold for what was most likely a law breaking contractor.

Have mercy on yourself
January  23.1, 2008

The message that most Christians cling to is the aggressive ethic of reciprocity and the Judge-not. Beside the ridiculous logical ad infinitum of giving till someone has to break down and take, and the lack of justice Judge-not promotes, the two core tenets of Christianity leads to a life of bird nests without a hen guarding the eggs. I presume that most Christians regard the doing to others and lack of justice to be metaphorical: The domain of god. No one but the masochist would present the other check and desire anarchy.

Where is the line then that justifies retaliation on an oppressor? At first I thought this was a case for fuzzy logic, but logic defies fuzz. What at first seemed to me to be a complex issue really isn't. Treat others as they treat you: point blank. This works well for those that are in the now but it eeks upon personal identity. That is the reason I have always promoted individuality. We can not be held accountable for the wrongs of our ancestors any more that we can take the credit for the work of dead individual artists.

Only the future inhabitants of earth are tied to our wrongs. It's extortion and depressingly those geezers that are alive today wouldn't change what they did 60 years ago.
However, those that cling onto their identity the actions of ancestors can logically be accountable for the wrongs of their predecessors. Call yourself an "American" and be held accountable for the terroristic acts of this Nations founders. By treating others as they treat your self only an act of aggression is legitimately countered with aggression. Hit me brother and I'll hit you back. The Mercy high ground is interesting territory. Typically mercy can be given when enough attention is paid to empathy; unfortunately for most only the closer someone is to oneself the easier it is to empathize. That's even more reason to embrace the principle of equality, individuality and justice.

I'm one and you're one to. We're one and one. But we can equal two as one if we both try.

Salvum-me-fac
January  23.2, 2008

Stolen from the book of common prayer, Trinity Church New Orleans:

Help me, Lord, for their is no godly one left; the faithful have vanished from among us.

Everyone speaks falsely with his neighbor; with a smooth tongue they speak from a double heart.

Oh, that the Lord would cut off all smooth tongues, and close the lips that utter proud boasts!

Those who say, "With our tongue will we prevail; our lips are our own; who is lord over us?'

"because the needy are oppressed, and the poor cry out in misery, I will rise up," says the Lord, "and give them the help they long for."

The words of the Lord are pure words, like silver refined from ore and purified seven times in the fire.

O Lord, watch over us and save us from this generation for ever.

The wicked prowl on every side, and that which is worthless is highly prized by everyone.

2nd Amendment - Extended edition
January  26, 2008

I'm about to get my concealed carry license. My new pistol will not be leaving my side once the background investigation is done. I've argued against citizens carrying killing tools but I understand the necessity of having one in the current state of the States. If one citizen has one, all need one. I would like to see the United Nations take on a similar stance. If we gave every Nation a Nuke the playing field would be leveled and all members would have a voice. Federal disarmament is a much better solution. I wonder what the future holds.

Until then, watch out 007, 801 is in town.

E.E.

I grew up with an Ex Green Beret father who always carried a pistol. Therefor it's quite natural for me to assume the responsibility of a fire arm in public now that I'm a mature 33. 'A pistol should only be drawn to fire in defense of severe bodily harm.' That was the only question on the NRA test I passed that gave me a pause. If someone is getting ready to fight me, I'm more than happy to walk away. Having a firearm will only reinforce that stance. However, there are times when an advisory won't allow one to walk away. How does one know when a person is going to have a "friendly" boxing match or is going to do the gnashing of teeth on the concrete? I hope no one will ever want to fight me. Though, I do have one over my dad. He let his temper dominate his rationality and he would pull his gun in a fit of anger. Unlike my dad, I am a big man and I have a small gun...

Shouting horse
January  26.1, 2008

In the dervish tube, laced
Brain scan - inconclusive
Genius can't be traced

Group prepares for PH>D.
I know who I am: 0ne
Do you know who you Art>:D

I know what is really mine
They're hiding behind a scratch pad
Some one passed the flatuscents line

Drug time, poison the lung
Four times a day, Pavlov
Saint James has a raw gun

Like a rat caught in cheese
Smelly cheese, tasty cheese
The food is for the drone

There is a bee line for the phone
Daddy, daddy, why don't you speak
Oh shit, my son is a Greek

One art project I won't let go
I know that one was low blow

Parallels
January  27, 2008

When I entered church today I was greeted with, "we're to see Jesus in everyone." That's easy enough for me because Jesus was just a man, just like me and you. During the service we praised the Father, the sun and the holy spirit. At last I've found a church that I feel part of the flock. I simply replaced the father for infinity, the sun for you and me and the holy spirit for zero. My mind began to wonder as I played a personal 801 service in my mind. Silence you be the reverence for zero, screaming chaotic fits for the father and everyone singing for One.

On the way out the father said that Jesus was among us. I noodled and winked. I would love to live in a world were everyone had an equality nice protocol.

Poet tree
January  28, 2008

From dust to ashes to dust
The fire is you and me
It's easy with a little trust
Belief will set you free

Your program has run
And no one has to see
Latch onto your fun
And let others just be

S1ck and tir9d
January  29, 2008

I'm sick and tired of hearing that education is the key to eradicating poverty. The more people that have degrees and are thus are qualified for positions, only saturates the job market with potential employees. The free market law of supply and demand equates to more competition for the positions and decreases the wage that can be offered for the same labor. This is ten fold for United State citizens when the open job market and new communication systems allows people in foreign nations the positions that used to be dictated by geography. I bares mentioning communist nations totally disregarding intellectual property rights for the good of "the people."

Post high school education has it's place and should be a requisite for some jobs, such as brain surgeons and moon rovers. But for the most part college education does only one main thing, supports the economy by making more debt and thus the ability to print more money. It also may be detrimental to those people who thrive off of self education. I wouldn't be half the artist I am today had I the influence of masters of arts. My culinary degree might have meant something if the market wasn't flooded with wanna be bambers. Thanks E, you've made me "a dime a dozen." (actual quote from Susan Spicer about me (celebrity chef)).

The cure to poverty comes in maintaining a balance of human population and a restructuring of physical property right. We the people own the planet, not, they the corporations. And some things should be totally funded by the state, and thus owned by the people. Like the cure for cancer.

Making my own signs
January  29, 2008

If one starts looking for signs one is bound to find them. From hurricanes to mud slides it's easy to attribute Natural disasters as acts from an evil force or warnings from God. Every time I see the letter N on someones shoes the word Naturalist plays in my mind; what is New Balance anyway? Two years ago I almost joined the Army.

I've been contemplating joining the Army. I have been in Hollywood working out, going to the recruiter every other day. I smoked pot with my ex a month ago. I have been taking piss tests waiting for it to clear. The test has been showing 99% clear. Then yesterday I took another one and it showed a complete positive result. I haven't smoked all year except once, over a month ago. It has me perplexed. I don't believe in a God but it looks like something is trying to tell me to stay out of the Army. Even if it an actual physical element in my body that is trying to sabotage my opportunity. I felt like an ass at the recruiters as it obviously looked like I was a liar. I am not lying.

Then I hiked Mount Runyon. I was almost to the top and picked up a smooth rock and held it in my hand. The first word in my head, "Projectile" I thought about the first weapons man used. I had a debate with myself. "Was it the rock or the stick?" No one will know for sure. Then I started wondering if the first person that used a rock to fight did they through it, drop it or use it in there hand. Then I started to wonder why I can't stop wondering about things, especially weapons. I guess it's part of having testosterone.

At the top I was out of wind. I was bummed because I hadn't run across any reptiles as I love chatting with my friends. There was a small bird perched in some shrubs. It went tweet tweet. Being polite I tweeted back. I love talking to my friends. They usually don't understand this English thing so I try my best speaking there language. I aaakkkkk at squirrels, meeeoooww at cats, and whistle at birds. Well something very strange happened when I started talking with this bird. It jumped to flight and started flying around my head in 30 yard ellipses. I thought it might be a nest issue but there was no nest or little ones to be seen. This was a tiny bird and had short parrot like wings. It made incredible sharp banks at an alarming speed. I would guess around 40 miles an hour. Then it started making maneuvers around my head. I'm not exaggerating. This bird was dive bombing my skull, literally coming a foot from my face at 40 miles an hour. I could hear the swoosh which was strange from anything that small. Why was it doing this?

On my way down I stared out and looked at my favorite building in LA. It's the most unique one I have ever been in. It has been my home away from home. It contains a school for TV actors, an Internet coffee shop and the US military recruiting office. An odd combo for sure. As I was looking at the building staring at the picture of Donald Trump polishing JR's shoes I noticed a large sign in front of it. This is what the sign says, "6 - 6 - 06 The signs are all around you" Fuckin' Weird.

Recruiters definitely do not know the mind of an artist. Today was it. I was gonna go to the hotel with a pool, free dinner, bed, tv (daddy what's a tv?) and the luxury I miss the most, running water. I walked in and sat down. I told him about the funny sign in front of there office with the big 666 in it. He didn't see it yet. I told him that I don't believe in signs but if I did there would be no way in hell, I would have even stepped back into the building. He asked me why I changed my mind. I started my list.

1. I'm doing this to impress my family.
2. I think that George Bush is an idiot and he would be my boss
3. I'm doing this because I am starting to hate our species and I want vent that feeling with a m16. I don't care who the target is.
4. I'm doing this for money and all money has a reference to this strange god person
5. There is a camo covered Bible on your desk, it's issued to soldiers and I don't like the book

They had "Over there" playing on the TV. Are these people stupid? I watched as a convoy pulled off the road and tripped an IED. Screams, Screams..... more screams...... then a picture of a young soldier with his legs blown off. This is an email I received from "Pretty Lady" at nearly the same time I watched this.

"You know, Robert, I had a fairly vivid dream last night that I was chatting with a bright young man who was about to go into the army. Suddenly I looked over at him and his legs had been amputated above the knees. He seemed unaware of this, and a few minutes later he had legs again. I told him, "If you go into the army you will lose your legs"

The recruiter asked me to talk with "The Man". Shit! It was good cop bad cop time.. The Man asked me why I didn't want to join. The first thing I said was I'm doing it to impress my family. He then went into a rant about how they were right. That I'm 31 and I haven't done anything in my life that wasn't worth anything. I then mentioned the accomplishment with art. Ouch.... He told me that one out of every 5 people on the street has done what I have done. He said, "How much money do you make with your art" I told him that there are accomplishments that are outside the realm of money and that I have been able to put food in my mouth. He seamed to have a difficult time comprehending. Then he told me that I would never accomplish anything outside the military, that without it, I would be nothing. I mentioned that I had a culinary degree and he said that it didn't mean anything. I thought the military would have trained there recruiters better. He was talking me out of joining. He stated that I did nothing, I was nothing and would become nothing without Uncle Sam. That really sealed the envelope for me. There is no more honorable thing a man can be than nothing. The Army would take Zero away from me and make me One. Fuck One, Zero is better!

To bad I don't believe in what were fighting for. I would be an excellent warrior. I guess I'll have to leave the high powered riffles down and stick with the next best thing, the keyboard. Bamm Blaaaam Baaaammm.

Southside Rabbitslayer

A few days ago I had a scheduled appointment with the recruiting department of the New Orleans Police Department. When I arrived there was one other guy waiting for his interview. They seemed surprised I was there, "we don't have an interview with you today". I told her she gave me the slip with at the previous testing site with the interview date. She said I still had to get my background check, pschic test and polygraph done. I left feeling lost.

The next day I had an appointment with the State mental health clinic. I went to the wrong hospital but was able to rescheduled an appointment later that day with the right one. I talked with the counselor who was paranoid that I had drank that morning because I answered her question about alcohol with: vocationally. I told her of my plan to quit the stimulants coffee and cigarettes for lent. And then getting off of these stupid meds that increase the risk of heart attack and stroke during the heat of New Orleans summers. She told me to tell the shrink everything I told her. Honesty is my policy.

That evening I was directed to the New Orleans website were a breaking story was being written. An officer that just got out of the academy was just killed with her own gun. She was attempting to apprehend a child rapist that just got out of jail. Could this be a similar sign to the one I got in Hollywood? Why would the Universe kill an innocent person just as a sign for me?

The next day I started to stretch the canvas I painted of the star and crescent: The symbol of the NOPD. I needed two 29" stretcher bars; I wondered if National Art carried odd numbers. I stopped off at the bank and depleted what funds I have left. Pulling up the art store where the owner/friend John was across the street wracking up leaves. I went over to chat when he invited me to the Thoth parade this weekend. One of his loyal customers came zooming out of the store and speed across the street in a blazing wheel chair. As he passed us he dropped a stretcher bar.

I walked over, picked it up and shouted, "You lost a bar!" He was already 3/4 of the way down the street and was unable to hear me. I took off running after him when I looked at the bar and saw a magical number, 29". When I handed him the bar I was surprised to see that he only bought 3 bars. Later that night I stretched the symbol.

The natural disasters of the past few years and the thousands they have killed don't surprise me. They do not violate the laws of probability. What would be odd is if the frequency of earth quakes and mudslides went down in proportion with the ratio of our population explosion and the billions of prayers that accompany it.

I began to feel sorry for the officer I don't know. What kind of a loving universe would kill an innocent person as a sign for some one. Could it be that the agent behind such a deed is negative and it has plans for me that don't involve being on the police force? I think I would make a great cop and New Orleans is in dire need of them. But then I thought, what if she was a bad cop? I don't know who makes the signs but it looks like I should keep writing.

Kicking ass and taking names
January  31, 2008

This has been my month, my friends! There won't be another 1-08 for a century. I started out this month on an insomniac greyhound, spent the middle of it in the pchyc ward and the end on pirates alley. Last night I watched the King of California: now officially my movie. Michael Douglas plays an idiot genius who forces his daughter (Evan Rachel Wood) to search for the long-lost Spanish treasure. Last night I told my love that I was about to kick ass and take names in Hollywood, painting.

"Mis en place" is a French term used in the brigade system of cooking. It means, in it's place. It is the most important element in line cooking. When a chef has 20 plates to make in the next 10 minutes everything must be in it's place or he'll be destined to sink in the weeds.

Kicking ass and taking names was a term my father used. He stopped talking to me recently after I told him I was the messiah. He knows I wasn't talking about the walking on water type but rather a teacher and writer of clean words. I always found it odd that he used the term "kicking ass and taking names" because the only ass I saw him kick was us-kids. And he already new our names.

One of the last things he told me was that he was done kicking ass and taking names. It looks like it is my turn to start taking names. My kids are only going to get kisses. Maybe soap in the potty mouth though ;)