A Lot for a While.
as of today.
there have been six years of this.
drinking beer and talking shit.
for some reason.
so, to celebrate, this anniversary, there are the lost entries.
sometimes, as a rough draft, I drunkenly email people who I give a fuck about.
when and if they email back the original email is edited and appears on this site.
I felt like there were more but I couldn't find them.
here is what i could find
Last night Kyle came over to drink beer and watch Conan the Barbarian. We drank all the beer and paused the movie to go buy more beer. I had eaten two hits of acid. Things were fine. I drank more beer and he must have left or something and I came to on the couch to Tom in the living room carrying on about something and that was weird to me because Tom doesn't live here anymore and his girlfriend generally doesn't set him free on saturday nights as far as I know. most folks were at a party I planned on skipping because it was at my ex-girlfriends house. boredom and substance abuse can copulate and give birth to terrible ideas. i know this. I drank more and ate more acid and walked to my ex's house intent on stealing something, I wasn't sure what. some guy who works at a place i used to work talked to me for a while about how he'd heard stories about me and was honored to be in my presence which was weird to me because I guess that I don't think my legacy of underachieving and drinking on the job warrants that much recognition but I wasn't arguing. I had met him a few times before and after he was done glowing he asked me what his name was. he said he was calling me out on it and wanted to see if I remembered. I cannot remember what I said but I do remember that it was wrong and that he looked devastated. Eventually I stood outside and let Bec yell at me for a while about my alleged inability to feel. She asked why I was just standing there and asked if I was on drugs other than booze and I avoided clearly answering. She looked good. She said something about how if we couldn't get passed our problems than I should get the fuck out. I got the fuck out and walked and woke up on a comfy couch in a nice house which is always a pleasant surprise. I looked for the bathroom and found a bedroom with a friend sleeping under his bed, which to me seemed like it defeated the purpose of the bed though it did look secure. That house had two cats and one was very diplomatic. He was affectionate but not overbearing and seemed like he wanted to show me around, but I wasn't sure who all lived at that place so I just left. I struggled with geography for a moment but eventually managed to set myself on a course home. It was not quite ten in the morning. I called my drummer several times before he called me back, obviously fresh from sleep. I said he should bring me a breakfast burrito. Finally I made it home and started a pot of coffee, I was trying to load some pantera videos on youtube to rock out to while I caffeinated, but they weren't loading so I thought about waking up JW and yelling at him for not pirating faster internet. I resisted though and played guitar instead, working on a song about waiting for my burrito to come. it started out folk but then it turns metal just at the point where you're starting to worry that I forgot how to play guitar. The burrito arrived and I was whole. I told my drummer that I was still not sober so not to have high expectations. He said he could tell. Practice went surprisingly well and then I drank coffee and now it's 6 pm according to the clock but I swear it's later.
my roommate cleaned my room which is kind of strange but welcome.
i have a frozen pizza i am excited about
i am out of beer
but probably not for long
that is my last 24 hrs
just thought i'd share
because i can't think of shit else to do.
Today I got up and Isaiah was still in town and I drank beers and then we went to breakfast and the service was mediocre. we came back to my place and I drank beers and then we went downtown and practically nothing happened. We bought lunch but I didn't want to eat two meals out in a day because I was trying to watch my expenditures so I just ordered beer. On the way home from seeing Isaiah off JW suggested that we go to the beer supply store and I agreed. We shuffled through recipes before settling on a pale ale that met both our interests and buying the required ingredients and went home and ate acid and tried to brew beer. We did not get very far. Kyle had talked about swimming earlier and we decided to let him drive us someplace to swim. We went to a very polluted river and got right in and floated down and it was nice. we swam across the river and did our best to get on land. Kyle did best because he had sandals but the blackberry bushes proved very trying to JW's and my bare feet. We made it happen though. And we were on a trail by the river and when we walked up it, we went by upper class restaraunts that boasted river side dining for people with more money than us. we kept walking on this trail and found a point that we thought would be good to get back in the water because maybe there weren't so many blackberry bushes. The way down to the river was beneath an overpass. I leaned on the side of the support for the over pass to pick thorns out of my feet and Kyle observed that what we were smelling was the "homeless person scat" piled up around the base of the support, apparently they liked to lean against it to shit. The flies were busy. We continued to the river and got in and swam and my feet didn't hurt as bad. We swam back across the river and some human wastes of space passed us in rafts. Once we were on the other shore we started walking in the direction that we left our shoes. We walked through the Mexican waterfront which we didn't know existed. We walked and there was goose shit everywhere, after the thorns and the homeless person shit. And then down the familiar trail towards the shoes. There was brush on either side of the trail and at the end I could see Kyle holding his arms out saying how much we would love this. there was a homeless couple. the lady had a cat on a harness and it was shitting in the river rock and we watched and she said this and we said that and we stepped over their sleeping bags and kept on. Finally to the shoes and we walked back and I got in the back of the truck and we drove across town. We stopped at a stoplight near the home and some people I know were on their porch with a man that had no shirt who was leaning over the rail. I yelled their names and they yelled back, other than the shirtless man who vomited profusely into the abyss below the porch. Back at my house I cracked a beer and ate more acid. We walked to the video store and rented GhostBusters 2. There's a really weird clerk that works at my video store and I hoped he wouldn't help us but of course he did. He asked for my phone number and I said "five-ten-twenty-five-forty" and after he punched it in he whispered "Jeffery..." and it was spooky. he went on to rehash a standup comics routine, whose name I cannot remember, and when we left I was glad. At home I drank beers on the porch and stared at the foliage and then we started GhostBusters 2. It was very fun to watch and then it ended and then we sat around for a while and then I started this email. And then I heard Reed get here so I went out and drank beers while Reed and Kyle and JW talked about stuff. Mostly how their loins had chaffed after a long weekend in the sun. And then Reed left and we burned pizza boxes in the fireplace for the second time today. and then I finished this email and now I don't know what I'm doing.
I was sitting in my car with the door open at night. I just finished work and was in the parking lot making a couple calls before I drove across town to drink beers with friends. I heard desperate meowing, which always makes my heart sink. Especially in that part of town, it's pretty much all commercial, and it's no place for a cat. I sat on the phone and eventually a little cat ran up. An adolescent black one. It hopped in the car and I decided it was mine and drove away. The cat stayed mostly in my lap and looked over the steering wheel, still meowing. A very small meow, more of a mew. I explained repeatedly, "Don't worry, you never need to worry around me, I love kitty cats more than anything, you're always safe when you're with me," and so on. I did my best to comfort my guest before I got out of my car at the beer store because my car is a catalog of disgust and it's difficult to imagine that even an alley cat would find the contents remotely inviting. I bought beer and a can of cat food. I explained to the checker, with whom I'm tight, my situation. He said it sounded like I had a new cat, which would be all fine and good if it wasn't that I didn't already have the most awesome cat there is, who I didn't want feeling threatened.
Today I delivered a pita to a music shop. I deliver there often and usually take a few moments of leisure to look at guitars and the like. Today, as I was leaving, a man with a child in a stroller was exiting behind me. I was a super huge mega gentleman and held the door for his massive stroller as he slowly pushed it out. Seriously, it was pretty much the exact width of the doorway and he went so slowly as to not graze the sides of the stroller against the edges of the doorway lest his subnormal child have to endure a light jarring sensation.
So here I am, pretty much being Mother Theresa with all this compassion and shit, even though it's not very natural for me to have for parents because as far as I'm concerned they've made their mistakes and they can deal with them, not me, and the stupid cocksucking motherfucker that's pushing the stroller doesn't even say "thank you." I was tempted to shove the stroller back in, knocking him on his ass behind it, and scream "you're welcome!" very sarcastically and loud enough to make the child cry tears of discomfort and uncertainty. The father would want to kick my ass, but he wouldn't be able to because the living biproduct of his semen and an unknown woman's low procreative standards would be forming a barrier in the doorway between us. Then, I would laugh like E. Honda from Street Fighter II before proudly returning to my car and driving off with the windows down, probably blasting the live Pantera cd that hasn't cooled down in my cd player since I burned it. The songs are out of order on it so it's got really choppy continuity, but it still rocks more than whatever is probably in your cd player.
I mean seriously, who's so self-important that having a favor done for them by a stranger doesn't warrant even a mild form of gratuity? Much less, a favor for them and their child for whom they're an alleged example for? This guy. Apparently his inner monologue is just a bunch of shit like, "well, I'm so great for no reason, and so is my clueless child, why wouldn't people constantly go out of their ways to make our empty lives easier?"
One of my friends refers to children as "fuck trophies." I like that a lot, because a lot of children really do seem to exist only because their parents are so undesirableble that they think getting laid warrants a living, breathing badge of honor.
So you got laid at least once. Congratu-motherfucking-lations.
All that actually happened is I kind of wrinkled my brow in frustration and left with an even more bleak impression of
Thanksgiving. Usually on Thanksgiving I drink too much while everybody else eats meat and then black out and come to the following day only to learn that I puked someplace embarassing and made an ass out of myself. So, this year I praticed Thankstaking for the first time. It's kind of like Thanksgiving, only with less gluttony and assholes talking about togetherness. Today was doomed from the start because the whole meaning of my life for the last week or so has been waiting for a guitar I ordered to show up in the mail. Since the dicks at the post office would rather eat with their families than bring me guitars, I knew I wouldn't get it today. I focused on this, the thing I couldn't have, all day to be in the proper Thankstaking mindset. My day went like this:
First, I made breakfast.
Then, it was off to the bar for lunch.
There was an arcade game at the bar that Jesse wanted to play. I reached to my pocket for quarters, I knew I had two, but then I remembered that it was in the Thankstaking spirit so I kept them to myself. We drank a few beers and bought a case of beer to take home. The bill came and I pretended to have forgotten my wallet at home. That is the essence of Thankstaking.
Back at home, I did this.
It went really well.
When nap time was over, I blasted Pantera and made a stirfry then ate it and fell asleep on the couch again. JW had talked me into eating this year, but next year I drink every meal, instead of just most of them.
If there are two things I'm good at those things would be eating burritos and minding my own business. Which is what I was doing. Then, this really loud boom. There was a flash from the ceiling as the filamints in the lightbulbs exploded and the cabinets opened voilently, ejecting dishes to the floor, where they would shatter. I looked at the whole scene for a moment before deciding that the bombs were finally dropping, so I walked cautiously to the hallway, which was decidedly safer to me at the moment.
"Maybe a tree fell on the house." The guy I was eating burritos with said. He is apparently more sensible than I.
We looked outside and sure enough:
This is actually a good thing though, because we couldn't decide what to do about firewood this year. Last year a tree fell on our porch and heated us through the winter, and this year we were facing the harsh reality of paying for wood, which is something our redneck heritage frowns upon.
really old months: