You Better Run

More than a handful of my friends are gonna watch this dude perform in Houston this weekend. Jealous is simply not good enough of a word.

"I didn't mean to kill nobody... I just meant to shoot the sonofabitch in the head. Him dying was between him and the Lord."

Fulfilled

When trying to have a baby, the male should only orgasm once every three days, in order to build up a hefty payload. You really wanna saturate the woman's reproductive area, like it's an Iowa floodplain. 

                                  -Drew Magary

Bay Door Boogie

The spiders are stomped on immediately. They are spiders, they are fucking gross, and the thought of letting one live only to find it on my shoe later- that's a paralyzing thought for me. I'm a pussy, and life isn't fair. Sue me.

The frogs are never stomped on. Can't do it. They are way too big. And they're borderline cute- the way they hop around and shit, bumping their asses and taking their sweet time. They are just too big, full of too much blood, and too possessing of nervous systems and pain receptors. That's too much to put on my conscience. Or underneath my shoe.

We had a snake come through, once. Big one. Maybe two-and-a-half feet long, maybe an inch-and-a-half thick. He was pissed, but then- we were trying to kill him. We hurt him, and that's when he broke for the stairs. Hid under them, and he wouldn't come out. In the end we smoked him out with gasoline vapor, and Peter dealt him a death blow with the business-end of a shovel. Peter's from Vietnam, and I assure you that wasn't the first snake he'd killed. No fear. He made it look so effortless.

This other time, Kyle caught a baby rabbit in his hat. He was outside, mowing the grass in front of the shop, and he came upon a rabbit hole. He saw them before he got too close, and killed the lawnmower. Not the rabbit. He caught the rabbit in his baseball cap, and showed everyone, before releasing it. I couldn't believe it. It was cute as hell, and I couldn't believe that it allowed itself to be caught. Kyle is damn fast.

A great many june-bugs come through the bay doors of our shop. Really, these are the only creatures that I have to actually think about with regard to "yes" or "no". Life or death.

If they are fine, then fine. I'm not gonna kill a healthy june-bug just for wandering into the shop. A healthy spider, sure. Not a healthy june-bug. Fuck, spiders are ugly.

But often times the june-bugs are injured. Couldn't tell you how, it's just lots of times they are. It's easy to tell.

With the injured ones, a decision has to be made: 1) let them struggle on, and die their own way, or 2) do them in myself. I will watch an injured june-bug for ten minutes at a time. I will keep tabs on it as I move throughout the shop. I will flip it over, delicately, time and time again. I will give it every opportunity to show me it has got something left in the tank. Why, I've even been known to write entire paragraphs detailing how kind-hearted and compassionate I am toward injured june-bugs.

Anything to fend off the guilt that comes with stepping on them. Because in the end that's always what I do.

Fretless.

A dude at work recommended that I check this guy out. So I bought Had To Cry Today. I've listened to it a handful of times since Saturday. It's not for me, and I do believe most of it is complete crap. This track, though- I like it a lot. 1 for 11. It's like that sometimes.

Innuendo. In your endo.

For me, I am the loneliest on Sunday mornings. Saturday and Sunday mornings, on the Saturdays when I don't work.

During the week, everything is usually rolling so quickly. There just isn't much time to think about it. But on Sunday mornings, I've got time. And it's pretty much all I think about for the first two hours that I am awake. I wake up and I immediately start thinking selfish thoughts. Among them, "I am almost twenty-six years old. I should've figured this out by now. I shouldn't be dealing with this anymore." Fucking Idiotic.

"Oh man. Are those wheels ORANGE? That's stupid."

Some people never change. Other people change every two years. The latter- they like to try new things? They like to "mix it up"? Nope. They don't know who they are, and probably never will. It'll haunt them for the entirety of their lives, like it does me. I hope.

I wake up on the floor.

I walk out of your front door. 

Set my mind on Washington

And how it used to be the place to score.

But those aren't even drugs anymore.

"...and the Jordan River flows on, evermore."

Can't wait for your graduation party, little cuz. Gonna be fun.

I have a beer or ten and then I start talking about things that I shouldn't. Rebecca, Steven- your pool party was, sincerely, SO FUCKING FUN! But- to any and all that I may have offended- I apologize. One day I will learn to keep my mouth shut about the things that a person should keep there mouth shut about. 

No I won't. But I am sorry, just the same.

Both of them. Both of those activities- I do them by myself now. They are still very enjoyable, and infinitely valuable as activities for release. But now they are just for me. It's not the same, and it never will be. It is what it is. Besides, those two or three times a year when I do get to do them with friends- God, are those amazing times. Cherished all the more for their rarity and fleeting nature.

Used to be if I wanted to hear a song about Bakersfield, I only had one guy to turn to. Now, I've got two.

"...you hear this band and without noticing it, your hand ends up in your pants." Not my words. Wish they were.

The Deep. Not bad, not good. But the Irishman who pilots The Orca in Jaws- the shark hunter- he is in this movie, and I really enjoy his acting.

In Jaws, he gets eaten. The shark throws itself upon the stern of The Orca, and the boat slants heavily as it fills with water. The Irishman slips and, as a result of the slanting deck, slides right into the mouth of the waiting shark. He is bitten directly in the midsection, and so powerfully that his mouth instantaneously fills with blood. All of the blood that refuses to be contained by his mouth is spurted out of it, everywhere. It is a violent death. I am starting to think that every death should be. When a person goes, they should go fighting.

New frame. Trans- orange. Trans Am. Goddamn. 

This is as excited as I've been about a new build in a long time. Can't wait for the day when I wake up and care enough to try and put it together. Should be this week, but of course, no promises. I am one of the biggest flakes on planet Earth.