Lunch

Jyg and I went out for lunch, unintentional however. Lady Nostalgia is right by my house on North Closner, tucked away in between a State Farm and another restaurant. It was quiet and quite nice. We were originally there for a quick peek. No matter how cliche it is, the place doesn’t betray its name. The Katy Perry song, however, spoiled the atmosphere.

The food was good – we got a free bowl of soup – and the raspberry tea was the first in a long time. Jyg liked it and is now plotting to her the baby shower there. We’ll see how that goes.

You know, we’re a dying breed you and me…

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I feel like the 90’s ended too soon.

What’s it really getting me?

There’s a moment in time
And it’s stuck in my mind
Way back, when we were just kids

Cause your eyes told the tale
Of an act of betrayal
I knew that somebody did

Oh, waves of time
Seem to wash away
The scenes of our crimes
But for you this never ends

Can you stay strong?
Can you go on?
Kristy are you doing okay?
A rose that won’t bloom
Winter’s kept you
Don’t waste your whole life trying
To get back what was taken away

My New Year’s resolution was more a attempt to do something I’m good at even better. I don’t know, maybe it’s the walking, or the movies, or something I’m doing different, that I’ve realized that while my full intention was to be the greatest asshole I could be might not be my best choice in the world. Sometimes ghosts come back into your life to make up for all the shit you did in the past, not to fix something that is to come.

I think of Alice as my Dr. Prashar in this case and I’m simply Dr. Pincus sitting on the chair looking up at the ceiling listening to the final piece of advice my college has for me: “At some point in your life you’re going to have to stop and ask yourself the ultimate question: This business of being such a fucking prick, what is it really getting me?”

I think I need to rethink my idea of what is important to me in this world and push away the bad and be happy for a change. Because I can’t continue to walk down this path. I’m getting old; it’s getting old. I probably have no reason to be writing this. A lot of you probably think I have no right. The other day, I passed a church and thought how much easier it was to believe in the past and just kneel and pray. The thing is, even in those days, I felt empty. No matter how much I have, I will always feel empty. I feel empty and scared and no matter what I do it’s always the wrong move.

What has being an asshole gotten? Less friends and being less trustworthy, that’s what. Don’t respond to the post.

Ghost returns

Alice called me. I haven’t heard from her in months. She’s doing fine. We’ll catch up later.

Things

El Senor called me up today while I was with Jyg. I talked to him for a bit, but he wanted to ask me if I heard about John Updike. When I replied yes, he laughed. I didn’t understand what was so funny about the writer’s passing. I suppose he didn’t like him or there must’ve been something else that was tickling him. I pressed. “Well,” he said, “Dr. Williamson…” I already knew this was gold.

Dr. Eric Miles Williamson is possibly one of the best writers at Panam at the present moment. I’ve never taken a class with him, but I’ve known people who have. Their opinions of him range from completely negative to completely negative with a positive aspect. Let me explain the latter. In college, you grow accustom to two types of professors, am I right? You have the means ones who push all this work on you, make it impossible to pass the class, [insert your generic negative stereotype here], and then you have the easy ones who, no matter how much you mess you, you can still expect at least a B. However, the great professors are both. The way Dr. Williamson comes off those that I know who’ve taken him, is that he’s a touch professor, but he cares. Life isn’t easy and Williamson isn’t either – or so I’ve been told (notice how I stress this because I know somewhere out there, there’s some punk looking up this man’s name to find something that will say “He’s evil, rotten, mean. Made me want to cry all semester long,” and he’ll find this blog and say “Aha! I’m not taking him,” but by all means, one should take professors like him: it’s for your own good). He’s going to give you a challenge.

I also happened to read his novel Two-Up, which I reviewed (sorta, but not really) on Good Reads. It’s a great book, but I won’t get into that because, as you have noticed, I’ve completely went off the track with my original topic.

Anyway. I was talking to El when he told me about the John Updike incident. “Well, Dr. Williamson wrote a review about John Updike. He said how he hoped Updike would die already – this was a few weeks before it happened – and go to heaven (I think he said heaven, but could’ve meant hell) and when he got there the only books he would have to read would be the ones he wrote so that he could die of boredom.” Harsh, but funny.

I miss school.

There was no moon

Some cheeky son of a bitch. There was a time when I cared more about the people around me and now I only care about three people.

The other day, Jyg and I were discussing the friend thing. What started as D, Binx and me has now become an occasional night of Philosopher, Squid and I. It was on the conversation of D and my refusal to make any contact with her. Jyg asked if I was going to give up on a friend, but after so much of having to tell her not to do what her impulse tells her to do, I’ve pretty much given up of her ever actually knowing her friends. It doesn’t matter, but when I look at it, I live a rather lonely life. Granted that I do have the three people I care about in it. It seems that Friday night outings might be canceled until further notice. I’m not complaining, or whining, or anything like that, just realizing that the end of our group – it was later compose of D, Binx (his occasional gf), Philosopher and me (and Jyg on occasion) – wasn’t brought on by the board games that D was so fearful of, but children, marriage, annoyance amongst other things.

D was the first to sever the whole thing, in actuality. I don’t blame her fully – she didn’t plan to get pregnant, get married, or anything that followed – but at the after wedding outing, the three of us realized that now that one of us had made that big step, it was only the inevitable that the whole thing would collapse within itself. Binx assumed it would be me that would take the next step and sever more, but in the long term, it was him and his getting married. Even before that, we hardly saw him. But still, we attempted to continue and try to make something more of this, but all attempts failed. In the end it was only Philosopher and I (plus Squid) who kept it up.

When we didn’t call D, she’d play victim and said no one told her what time we were leaving or where we were going, as if suddenly our routine changed. Philosopher pointed out the most obvious thing – when D doesn’t want to annoy us (whether it be intentional or not, I don’t know) she’ll find us at our usual dives; however, when she doesn’t have anything annoying up her sleeves, she’ll send us the “guilt trip” text which usually states that she has no friends as we didn’t call her. Binx is married now and striving to keep going. All blessings to him. His wife’s a nice girl and I think they mean the world to each other, which is possibly more than I can say for more couples I know. D separated and divorced hers.

Now, it feels a little weird and emo writing this post. But really it’s more of an standing on the outside looking in post. For the first time, I realized just how storybook the whole thing was. From the beginning to the now, everything was going to happen just as it did. And in the process, hindsight and my fucked up memory, I should’ve known the outcome of it all but continue on anyway.

It’s just a matter of looking at things, I suppose.

Annoyance doesn’t even describe.

Read my last post and you’ll understand that I’m an asshole. I didn’t mean to be rude, but what was really rude tonight is when a “friend” decides to make her friends slightly uncomfortable by bringing a friend along with her during an outing. Philosopher and I aren’t people persons. I dislike meeting new people and I’ve always been like that. Lately, I’ve been ultramoody so when it was brought up that D was bringing her friend from way back when to our Friday night outing, my initial thought was I’m staying home. But I don’t like staying home and Philosopher and I normally got out anyway with the Squid. I’ve grown, as has she I’m assuming, to just our twosome plus kid outing. D contacted her early in the day asking if it was okay if Homeboy could tag along. The reply was if someone flew 1000 miles to see someone else, the last thing that person wanted to do was hang out with strangers. D said he was cool with it to which Philosopher said Homeboy was probably trying to be polite. D said that he wasn’t polite and that he was okay with it. Either D is a flaming fucking moron, or she can’t read the fact that WE wouldn’t be comfortable so we decided to snake out unannounced so that we wouldn’t find ourselves in a situation we wanted to avoid. I already had the feeling that D would find us nonetheless. We went to Hastings then to Barnes where she found us. The moment the Squid saw her and the bunch, I snaked away, leaving Philosopher in the lion’s den as is my wont when my reflexes kick in.

So I wandered off alone searching up and down half of Barnes because I wanted to avoid D at all costs. I called Philosopher to see what was going on, but she was distracted and I hung up. At one point I was reading a book by Gibson and this kid with googles and a soccer shirt sat next to me. Only strange things happen to the weird. I’m done writing.

The Obligatory Thanksgiving Post

Thanks for the wild turkey and
the passenger pigeons, destined
to be shit out through wholesome
American guts.

Thanks for a continent to despoil
and poison.

Thanks for Indians to provide a
modicum of challenge and
danger.

Thanks for vast herds of bison to
kill and skin leaving the
carcasses to rot.

Thanks for bounties on wolves
and coyotes.

Thanks for the American dream,
To vulgarize and to falsify until
the bare lies shine through.

Thanks for the KKK.

For nigger-killin’ lawmen,
feelin’ their notches.

For decent church-goin’ women,
with their mean, pinched, bitter,
evil faces.

Thanks for “Kill a Queer for
Christ” stickers.

Thanks for laboratory AIDS.

Thanks for Prohibition and the
war against drugs.

Thanks for a country where
nobody’s allowed to mind the
own business.

Thanks for a nation of finks.

Yes, thanks for all the
memories– all right let’s see
your arms!

You always were a headache and
you always were a bore.

Thanks for the last and greatest
betrayal of the last and greatest
of human dreams.

Today, while you’re eating your bird or tofu subsitute, think about what today should really stand for. Think about the families torn assunder by a needless war. Think of the children orphaned by our terrible and downright god awful leader. Think about the homeless who wander the street in search for their next meal. Think about all the things we take for granted.

And after you think about all the wrong in the world, you can truly and finally count your blessings. Because without the ugly rearing its head into our lives, we might not stop and take a look at all the beauty. So enjoy today in any mannerism you choose to and be happy with what you have – be thankful for good health, good times and future blessings.

Fever, Abscess, El Senor, Weekend & Books

All most of last week and the week before was a rollercoaster of fever. While 100.9F isn’t much of a threat, when you’re post op (a term, apparently not just used for transsexuals), it can mean there is something seriously wrong with you. The doctor told me most people who go through appendicitis normally form an abscess after surgery. Crap, that means I have to go back to the hospital to get that drained. He gave me a paper which said I needed to get a CT scan – he ordered one from whichever place I go to, is basically what it said – but then told me that if I hit 101 degree fever to just go the emergency room so I don’t have to pay up front. Fine. I had my plan, go during the weekend as to not inconvenience anyone. That plan fell through when the fevers left me as quickly as they came. Now I’m completely normal.

Friday, I almost stayed in but Jyg didn’t go out with her friends after all, so we went to JCPenny’s to search for the elusive sunglasses. JcPenny’s, however, doesn’t have any sunglasses so that trip proved fruitless. After walking towards other stores, I started to feel weak, so we went back to the car. We wound up at Hastings afterward because at least I get to rest there. While there, I found a used copy of Francine Prose’s Reading Like a Writer: A Guide for People Who Love Books and for Those Who Want to Write Them. Penniless that I am, Jyg purchased the book for me as a gift. We came back home afterward and I started to feel really sleepy. After a while, Jyg went home and I fell asleep.

Saturday was pretty much eventless. I just sat around, catching up on my reading because I have yet to finish The Silmarillion. Sunday, on the other hand, gave me something to do. El Senor, after having his operation done Friday, decided that he needed to get out of his home and hang out with someone who wasn’t related to him – this meant me and we would go to Cuppy’s Coffee for yet another session of our talking out loud and bothering other costumers who are sitting there with their laptops, purposely looking as if they’re writing the next great American novel. We talked books. We talked sugeries. We talked about what we’re writing – me, a short story/novella and him, his thesis. Afterwards, we went over to CompUSA because he has become the victim of his children – they lost two of his USB drives. He saw some he liked, but vowed to buy them in the morning because he only brought enough money for the coffee.

After that, I learned that he has moved from La Villa to Edinburg. This guy’s now more in walking distance than before. After offering me to tag along on a family road trip – which I passed because I couldn’t fathom the idea of being anywhere near his daughter who suggested that I looked forty the last time we talked – we go to his place. He has some reading material that he bought for me during the summer, a book by Paul Ruffin, Islands, Women, and God. I also manage to borrow The Chicago Manual of Style and swiped Two-Up by Eric Miles Williamson, a professor at UTPA. We go to Juniors to pay a bill he had and then he dropped me off.

One thing that I failed to mention is that he also offered me a job. Not with his business, which is manual labor and while I’m all up for it, my body isn’t. Instead a friend of his is looking for people with Bachelors to teach courses to the community. My job offer? To help others find jobs. I swear, that saying is true: Those who can, do. Those who can’t, teach. It’ll be a bilingual class, but at least I’ll have a translator because my on the spot Spanish sucks ass.

The Cannabis Chronicles (looking for bloggers)

A while back, El Senor and I were talking about writing and I mentioned how I would love to write on the subject of cannabis without the muck the government has fed us. The writing plan was reverted to notes which was then reverted to nothing at all because I found that my writing was becoming less and less enthusiastic. However, we were spoke, I did mention that I wanted to call these “notes” The Cannabis Chronicles. Because I didn’t want the name to poof, I snagged it on WordPress.

So what’s my point? I invited Reverend Adam Zuniga of the Shemshemet Ministry to partake in the blogging experience and now I’m inviting any well read cannabis user turned blogger to share your thoughts on consumption, religious experiences, medical usage, recipes (personal ones, rather than reprints from cookbooks), etc. Anyone want to partake in this venture? Just say so in a comment. Thank you.