Friday, February 29, 2008


Why can't there be...Why can't there be more time? Why can't there be more cognition that says YOU UNDERSTAND, and there's time now to do something bloody decent about it. And, here's a boatload (Not only of the newfound wisdom, but...) of the desire and knowledge of how to go about it. Fer whatever's sake, why is there such a waste of our lives? Why is it so damn lame?


Okay, so it's Friday and I really needed after going to L.A., to get back to the behind of Orange County and into Shell City A.S.A.P. I was graciously excused from lunch to do so and got a bit of money gone from the wallet of mine and into the account at FLAX in Westwood. Namely, in the form of another pen (A small gray Caran d'ache "quiet" ballpoint, which takes the standard PARKER, etc. like.), some dark blue cartridges in a tiny blue plastic package, a bottle of dark blue ink like some other cartridges I've been using in the Pelikan Pelikanos, a Large Parker rolling writer ballpoint pen I need for a new but old style Frontier, translucent green body and stainless cap deal (I had eons ago purchased from a Office Place in Los Angeles and wondered if I'd ever have one to back up in case...and eBay one day provided.), a cool, slightly oversized pocket notebook, with rough-like fountain pen paper, at an extremely generous/affordable 10 dollar price...which, with the overpriced but can't find any where else pen, and the ink (?) well, I'm okay...just wish I'd found a straw hat like I was looking for, and NOT another long sleeved pique cotton (red) patagonia golf/tennis/polo shirt...think I'll try to get the folks in the Newport store to get the folks in the West L.A. store to package one of the Mediums up and send it.

How do I double space my Word file document, w/out literally going in with the cursor, and hitting ENTER for each line? I want to ready my novella, get it into the Agent's hand and get out of here, PRONTO!!!

WORKED like crazy on line for the past few hours trying to get it so that I have some kind of notification thing on my web or rss feed or whatever, to notify me when I get a comment on my blogs or whatever it's supposed to do...hell. Sheer hell to do. I couldn't stand it. Still can't. Why did I waste my life doing that?

Nokia's N810 is a "tablet" and not so much a phone with wi-fi Internet...but will go to a connection, if you've got the codes...but, you have to be near and know them and be able to put them in.

STILL, I've no hope of getting a's all so assinine. I don't know how much longer I can stand it. Don't need all of this crap, but want it. I want to be mobile. I want to blog remotely and it really won't be remote...with the proper phone and service, it'll be like being here writing, only I won't have to be here and it'll in theory WORK!

Thursday, February 21, 2008


ACH, February, could you suck any less? Get a hardhat and get to work? Hey, I wanted to play centerfield for the Boston Red Sox but it didn’t happen to me. Grab a hard hat and get to work. Ha! That’s what Dennis Leary said. Something like that a co-worker said to me. Dreams are for dreamers, he said. It figures. It’s like, you know, there may be some of you out there who have dreams that you can make come true, a single one or three and you can spend an entire lifetime out there making that one come true. And that to me is a bunch of shit. It should not have to be that difficult. There are things that only certain people can and will do. The guy who climbed all those mountains, he had lungs and blood and in general, the DNA to make it, all without supplemental oxygen, you know? That’s what that is. Genetics, and that, basically, my friend, is FATE: signed, sealed, and simply delivered, a priori, before the damn train leaving the station, was even fricken BUILT!!! So, you can’t tell me some things aren’t fixed, I know fucking well they are, and that there’s a lot of lying going on in the world, just so that every one going, doing the lying, can get a bunch of suckers, to buy their gravy train, to enhance their own bank accounts, and shove a huge piece of splintery wood up the sphincter of any one unsuspecting. That’s all we have to say at the moment.

Friday, February 15, 2008

The TRUTH, or, the WAY IT IS NOW....

There's all these people doing all these things and it all seems important and I seem utterly lost and generally left out.
People are on their phones and seem to talk for hours without having to charge their batteries. I on the other hand talk to one person for 45 minutes and my battery's on low, and have to recharge.
People text and get messages like crazy, have the latest gadgets, get and use and have connectivity like all the "service providers" promise, but whenever I get to the phones and the places to try them out, whenever I read the reviews and all, I find them all missing, missing something vital that I need. WHY THE HELL IS THIS?
What am I doing wrong? Some people write and publish and have and do but I do not. I'm just a little piece of wood in an amazingly ginormous river that gets shoved on downstream like so much flotsam/jetsam...nothing ness. WHY?

Friday, February 08, 2008

Happiness In The Rendering

Then there was this woman on the street, short, fat, sqat waddling thing, breasts out to here and a big plastic shopping bag just a hanging on down, moving slowly east along Talbert, alongside the Cemetery, where a friend of mine's mother is buried.
I'm tired of seeing these people on the street and feeling sad or sorry for them. Look at them, these losers. That's a judgement call. Maybe they're not sad or lost.
ON the bus, looking out a window, I've no expression on my face at all, but what do I look like to them? Any one passing by? I could look sad or mad or be a "LOSER" too. But au contraire, I'm as happy as a clam, lark, shipmate on the high seas with tons of dollars to my name....though I'm poor and stupid; often lame and thoughless; and or otherwise scrambled; lazy, and just aesthetically; can't figure out on how to do some things: I'm HAPPY!
It was too easy to contemplate, the other morning on the bus my thanksgivings...job, life, house, clothes, car, etc. Pretty much all a fella really needs, eh? No gal, no problem. But of course it's: there are so many people in the fructose laden world, the corn syrup system, that don't have squat. Who wish they could squat: but no letters in the mail, no posts on the net, no smart phone with system to boot....tis vapid nutty None of these things and so many more we can consider, most people just....don't have any of these things and when they've no livelihood either? No house or people who love them?
Why, I'm sitting there on the bus, a slight quick turn of the corner of my mouth up to the heavens goes before it could even be registered. The long slim green grasslike plant fronds blow in the wind on the middle of the street planter area when the bus passes....reminding me of the same outside my window in S.F. on the courtyard out my window at Webster Manor, same such plant material shown underwater in the film by Andrey Tarkovsky: SOLARIS. Ah, yes. How sweet it is. Life is good. I am happy and not one soul knows. Most of the time I am.
It is too easy to be happy here. See, when I get vexed is when how easily things fuck up. That's when I get mad, and that is all the time I could say. I was freaking out the other day. Things falling in the piles I have and was adding to in my room, my laundry, etc. Getting a hat or pen from somewhere and then having the damn thing cause an avalanche of shit falling...fucking pissing me off. "Stop, fucking, falling, a-part!" I yell and scream. But otherwise, yeah. I'm happy. It's too damn easy to be.