where is everybody?!?

FUCK DUCKS! nobody's reading my goddamn blog! pay attention to me!

my probationary period at work ended this week, so i get paid vacation time now. unbeknownst to me, i actually had one vacation day i was supposed to use up this past week. oops.

thankfully, i'm being allowed to take it next week, so i'm getting monday off. four-day weekend, suckers. eat that. stick it in your vein and let it course through your body. stings, don't it?

somebody shoot me.

no longer empty and frantic

some estimates are placing the tsunami death toll at over 120,000. what an incomprehensible loss of life. biblical in magnitude. i'm sure the numbers will rise as we cross over into the new year.

what a fitting way to christen the new year.

me, i'm just worrying over my hill of beans. hey, it's all i've got.

went to the bar last night, intending to just have a beer. i ended up having 5 or 6.

going back tonight, this time to meet an old friend. there's a chance i might have another beer.

i wonder if there are any bad health effects to drinking heavily? or smoking -- is smoking bad for you?

i've got a long day of sitting around doing nothing. yesterday, i killed a good clip of time visiting the crime library. reading is the next best thing to watching tv. it's good i'm using all this down time to better myself and be so creatively productive.

i feel like a pig in a cage, on antibiotics.

puppets of god

thanks to the meowking & the maker of mark, i am one hungover monkeyfucker today. i can barely blog, but there's nothing else to fucking do at work, so here i am.

how in the hell am i going to kill 6 more hours here?! there are only so many games of hamsterball i can play!

I'M GOIN NUTS!

XXX

visited my tattoo guy Adal last night (before the revelry began). dropped off rough sketches of my next tattoo idea. explained it to him. he seemed optimistic. i look forward to what he comes up with. he's a good fella. the next time you're on St. Mark's, stop by ADDICTION. tell them "Malice" sent you. (they won't have a fucking clue who that is...)

me brain 'urts!

my head aches from browsing the internet all day. i'm sure if i'd thought a bit, i could have found something interesting to research, but not today. today, i just refreshed the same pages over and over again. burning the timecard...

once again, i didn't do a single thing at work. the people around me somehow managed to do SOMETHING, but not me. i have once again managed to do nothing to earn my paycheck. have i driven that point home emphatically enough?

my tattoo just looks like a bad accident right now... i can't wait till it looks cool...

i'm bringing a pillow and a blanket to work tomorrow...

twentieth century dies

SLATE has a good little article on the question that's been on my mind for a while -- WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU CALL THIS STUPID FUCKING DECADE?!

i've given this a lot of thought (because i have nothing else going on in my life). what's at stake here? only the debut of VH1's I Love the '00s! in January 2011! hello?!

the SLATE article doesn't come up with any definitive answers. as lame as it is, i think "The Ohs" is the only thing that makes sense. when people refer to years, they say things like, "Appetite for Destruction came out in eighty-seven...!" thus, calling that decade "The Eighties" makes sense.

how do people refer to these years? "oh-four was the worst year of my life!"

ergo, it's The Ohs, motherfuckers! sound lame? well so does my life -- there's nothing i can do about it...

suck it up...

W. Axl Rose

yep, i'm gay.

update for the meowking:

everyone's on holiday except for malice

half an hour to go on this quiet day at the salt mines. i did not do a SINGLE THING today. my downtime is 100%. i did some preliminary sketch design work on my next tattoo. i read the internet.

i can't wait to go home and fix myself a drink. i think i'm getting pretty good at this drinking thing. i gotta work my tolerance up for new year's eve.

you know where i wish i were right now? six feet under the earth. that would be nice.

until that happens, play some pac-mondrian, the unholy fusion of PAC-MAN and Piet Mondrian. don't forget to turn up the volume. this game swings, baby. thanks to jgoose for the heads up!

messages from 10-hour study hall

the day after boxing day is always depressing, isn't it...? wanted to call in sick today but i think i needed to get out.

it is a veritable ghost town at work today. i knew it would be, but this is just silly. the local morning news show talked about how most people are on holiday this week, so they don't have to worry about commuting in the bitter cold: it didn't help motivate me to walk out the door today.

my newly inked arm is still throbbing and swollen this mourning. (though it's gotten better.) it's not even the "fun" pain i was expecting/anticipating. it feels like i've been stung by a swarm of bees. i look forward to being able to move my arm again. i like how it looks, though...

i'm already designing my next tattoo. i wasn't planning on getting another one for a while but now my right arm looks naked and incomplete. i'm going to try to collaborate with the tattoo artist to come up with a design that "bridges" two of the other tattoos on my right arm. and then i need to find another "bookmark date" to get it done. and then i'm going to join the circus freakshow. (or maybe i can join the new guns n' roses.)

like ben affleck, i've managed to survive christmas. many thanks to the family who adopted me for the day. it may not have been "the worst christmas ever", but it certainly was emotionally debilitating. made me realize that new year's eve might actually be a lot harder than i expected. puts an even bigger spotlight on being alone, especially if you're at a big party... or a small party...

i finally told my father about my situation. in an email. on christmas eve. hey, i never said i was a good son.

if anybody wants to hang out with me this week (and it's no use denying that you all do!), i'll be on a strict diet of cigarettes and booze...

blue christmas

I’ll have a blue christmas without you
I’ll be so blue just thinking about you
Decorations of red on a green christmas tree
Won’t be the same dear, if you’re not here with me

And when those blue snowflakes start falling
That’s when those blue memories start calling
You’ll be doin’ all right, with your christmas of white
But I’ll have a blue, blue blue blue christmas

You’ll be doin’ all right, with your christmas of white,
But I’ll have a blue, blue christmas...

blood & ink

i was thinking of posting a picture of my new tattoo, but i don't want to spoil it. i don't think anyone's going to figure out what it "is" or what it "means" on their own. so herewith is the "translation":

twelve 2 4, 00/04

the way it "reads" on my arm is:

twelve
2
4
00/04

or, a little more exactly:

IIIIII IIIIII
II
IIII
00/04

confusing? most definitely. i'm sure it'll be more baffling if you actually get a chance to see it. a very circuitous, awkward way of depicting, "December 24, 2000/2004", but i didn't want it to be inordinately literal.

What's it mean, Malice??? What's it all mean???

well, it's exactly four years ago today that i proposed to my wife.

in about 2 hours, i'm going to wash off this bloody bandage and get drunk at a bar. alone.

merry christmas to all -- and to all a good night!

[hidden bonus entry]

it's actually 10:51pm, christmas eve. i know i don't usually play with time on this blog, but i didn't think this should appear later than my previous post. if that means fewer people read this entry... well, someone's gonna read this...

10:54pm. don't think i'm gonna go to the bar tonight. why go out to drink with people when you can stay at home and drink alone?

the tattoo is a boatload of pain right about now. it's the biggest tattoo i've ever gotten, so that makes sense. (one of the few things that makes sense.) my arm's nice and swollen and slathered in A&D ointment. it's bitter cold outside and i don't think this thing's worth showing off right now. guess i'm not feeling particularly social tonight, either. wonder why...?

just watched "a christmas story" and "rushmore". alone. with my pain and my booze and my cigarettes. o! happy days.

someone's playing electric guitar really loud next door. it sounds like he's playing live in my bathroom. he's pretty good. i wish he would stop.

guess i should wipe some excess blood and ink from my tattoo now...

ghost of tomorrow

kidnap the santy claws!
knock him out real soon!
pack him in a rocket ship and
send him to the moon!

kidnap the santy claws!
serve him just desserts!
let him out on new year's eve
then kick him where it hurts!

kidnap the santy claws!
blackmail him, of course!
send the photos to his wife
till she wants a divorce!

kidnap the santy claws!
box him in the ears!
bury him in wasted dreams and
drown in children's tears!

happiness is a warm gun

they let us out early, this wet, gray day. as a reward, i've created a new header for this blog. as always, stealing someone else's art and just throwing my shit on top of it. they call it "homage".

i think i had an encounter with a ghost last night, but maybe it was just a strange dream. regardless, i didn't sleep much afterwards. it was very unsettling...

it's only a quarter to 4 but the bar's always open at the fortress of solitude. i'm sure it's 5 o'clock somewhere...

christmas blitz

last day at work before the most magical day of the year.

The day Malice drinks himself into a coma?

been there, done that.

The day the whole world goes away?

oh, it left me months ago. next.

The day Malice finds jesus?

found him. dead. guess he wasn't really the son of "god", was he?

Then what day are you talking about, Malice???

okay, it's the day i drink myself into a coma. you were right the first time.

seems everyone's brought their offspring to work with them today. there's a magic show at 1pm. i even heard that "santa claus" himself is in the building. (though i find this highly dubious.)

there's nothing like a festive office environment to highlight the emptiness of your own life.

finished designing my new ink. looking forward to the squinting reactions:

"that's... unique..."
"what... exactly... is it supposed to be...?"
"i feel sorry for your mother."

i'm not expecting very many hits on my blog over the next few days. have a happy fucking holiday, you happy fucking fuckers. especially p & b, who've so dutifully filled my entries with comments over the last week. it offers the world the illusion that i have friends. (what an amusing thought...)

here's an article about lonely people cloning their dead cats.

it's only the end of the world

terribly quiet day, here at the duck factory. burning off the hours till i can leave. clearly, most of my "readers" are away on holiday already, as evidenced by the utter lack of commenting today. so i'm writing another entry for my own edification.

what shall gollum -- i mean, "malice" do this evening...? no one is around. no plans to meet with anyone. guess it's just back to the fortress after work. cuddle up with a bottle of liquid solace. perhaps tanqueray? i've been hitting the jack like i've been touring with guns n' roses...

i could go out, but i am broke this week. and i've already got plans to buy myself some new ink and get wasted in public on christmas eve.

so. home. solitary. fortress. booze. maybe i'll screen "a christmas story" for myself, as i've yet to see it this season. it always puts me in the mood for the holiday, though i don't actually feel like being in the mood this year. maybe i'll be inspired to write a little. maybe i'll just be inspired to pass out.

why are you still reading this?

emperor of ice cream

three days before christmas. the saddest one ever. i can't wait. i've found an appropriate family to sponsor me for the day. i shall bask in their pity. i'll be wearing my "tiny tim" scarf, to complete the effect.

getting some new ink on christmas eve, to turn this time into a scar. something to remind me always.

stuck killing time at work today and tomorrow. listening to the idle chatter of other people waft over low cubicle walls. it seems everybody is married up. me, i'm stuck on the isle of abandoned toys.

everything in my world is dead.

NOTHING IS REAL.

there is nothing left to believe in.

thank you for that.

half-blood prince of darkness

i just killed an embarrassing number of hours browsing j.k. rowling's official website. she just finished writing book 6 of the 7-book harry potter series. in order to view her secret holiday message, i had to solve a series of riddles -- some were obscure harry potter trivia (what british city did hagrid fly a 1-year-old harry potter over? what was hermione's patronus? what is ronald weasley's least favourite sandwich filling?), others were straight-out riddles. the trivia, i could partially cheat on through clever web-searching techniques. the riddles, i had to solve the old-fashioned way. i am not proud of any of this.

i was thinking of having an impromptu screening of "Mystery Science Theater 3000: Santa Claus Conquers the Martians" this thursday, at my fortress of solitude, but it seems that anybody who might possibly enjoy this will be unable to make it. guess who's getting drunk alone that night?

it's been fairly quiet at work this week. thursday, they'll probably let us out a little early. more time to contemplate the wreckage of my existence.

"ain't it fun when your friends despise what you've become?"

silent night, deadly night

this is the countdown week. countdown to the unhappiest christmas of my life. even if it goes well, it'll hurt like hell. it hurts just imagining it. a reopening of wounds. they never cease to bleed...

forgot my ipod at home today. i've got to make it through 8 more hours listening to office chatter and footsteps.

my insides feel stale. perhaps i'm dying.

the way of the future

the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future. the way of the future.

death becomes clearer (through bloodshot eyes)

nothing much to say, i guess.

about a week before the dreaded X-mas.

i may get another tattoo on christmas eve. if i can get the design right. and if the tattoo parlor is open on that day. it's going to be a cold day.

it's going to be a hell of a year.

and I still believe that I cannot be saved...

i'm on 2 hours of sleep. nearly called in sick again, but somehow i managed to make it to the office.

counseling session went well tuesday night. still don't know what's going to happen, but i was afraid it was all going to end tuesday night. i'm no religious man, but i'm praying. every time i see her, i'm reminded how much i miss her. wonder if she misses me. (cue sound: audience sniffling.)

i can't believe xmas is next week. probably means i'll be visited by the ghosts of xmas past, present and future soon. i dread that ghost of the future. he's the bitch of the lot...

you say in love, there are no rules...

had the first marriage counseling session with c. last night. as a reward, i've called in sick today. playing videogames, drinking and blogging. how i love being a growed-up.

nobody loves me

everything hurts today. the sadness is unstoppable. i thought it had settled into a distant numbness but it still hurts like a wet, fresh wound. jesus, i just want to shut out the world, black out the windows and hide until the war is over. i can't emphasize enough how much i am dreading christmas this year. i have never dreaded christmas. it was always one of my favorite fucking holidays. taking time off. buying stuff. giving and getting. now it's just a time to count my misfortunes. i don't even want to see anyone from my fucking family. i don't hate life. life can be fucking remarkable. i just hate my life. my life is the fucking pits. just run away. run as far as you can see...

overlook

jesus, this was a painful weekend. maybe the weekend itself wasn't as painful as the lingering hurt it's left in me. i didn't even drink that much. i mean, i had way too many drinks friday night. saturday night i had a few. sunday, just two. maybe that's what hurt: the gradual sobriety...

just when i think i'm reaching a new stage of strength, i fall back into the misery of it all. this is going to be a fucking punishing christmas. i have really got nothing i'm looking forward to.

i should be writing, and i'm not. a scattershot of words here and there, nothing consistent. the situation should be ideal for writing. the solitude. the isolation. and yet...

all work and no play makes jack a dull boy
all work
and no play
makes jack
a
dull
boy
all
work and no
play
make
jack a dull
b oy

man on fire

the other day, i made a passing comment about not being able to cry anymore. the first month or two, if the wind blew the wrong way i could cry like a little girl. now, it's harder. like building up an immunity to something. it's like i'm on the verge. i can get myself right there, but it's not so easy to push myself over. this deep, swallowing unhappiness has become a status quo. a baseline. it's hard to go much lower than where i am right now.

just the one drink last night. a little jack on ice, to sand down the rough edges of a wasted life. drifted off to the sounds of U2 of all things...

I disappeared in you
You disappeared from me
I gave you everything you ever wanted
It wasn't what you wanted

The men who love you, you hate the most
They pass right through you like a ghost
They look for you but your spirit is in the air
Baby...you're nowhere

You say in love there are no rules
Sweetheart
You're so cruel

+++

Sunrise like a nosebleed
Your head hurts and you can't breathe
You been tryin' to throw your arms around the world
How far you gonna go
Before you lose your way back home?
You've been trying to throw your arms around the world

+++

There is a silence that comes to a house
Where no one can sleep
I guess it's the price of love
I know it's not cheap

+++

A little death
Without mourning
No call
And no warning...

+++

is it only 10am...? can this day be mercy-killed any sooner...?
i cannot wait to end the worst year of my life...

my mallory heart is sure to fail

the thing is, i don't drink beer at home. at home, i only drink the hard stuff. when i'm out, i'll drink beer. the hard stuff takes me too far, too fast. beer i can coast on for a while. maybe i also don't drink beer at home because it's harder to lug all those bottles home (alone), versus -- say -- a bottle of jack and a bottle of dewers.

my wednesday work day is sweeping up. relatively smooth, uneventful day. the kind of day i pray every day is like.

it's december 8th. i'm setting myself up for a fucking bender of a december. anything goes. it's amazing the sense of freedom you get when nothing really matters anymore. if i end up wearing cement shoes at the bottom of a river, i won't have to wonder what led me there. it's what happens when you open your heart to the world... you drown...

forget the future

i don't know how people work 5(+) days a week. i can barely manage my 4 days. though it forces me to get up in the mourning, so perhaps it's been "good" for me. but i hate to have a positive outlook on anything...

when did drinking every day make a person a "heavy drinker"? it's not like i get plastered every day. last night, one drink. the night before, one drink. the night before, maybe 4 drinks. ok, last week i probably drank quite a lot, but i had to direct a scene and work with tempermental "actors" and boo hoo hoo...!

why is it only tuesday? have i not suffered enough for the sins of this world?

closer

i live in the middle of nowhere. the edge of a warehouse district, on the teasing cusp of gentrification. the streets are littered with debris. innocuous but sometimes disturbing. the crumpled bit of newspaper or cluster of leaves you see down the street may turn out to be the splattered corpse of a rat when you get closer. a dead pigeon. the other day, i saw a torn wing. how that bird's wing got torn off, i don't want to know... but i kind of do...

the show went off well. erwin was impressive. a heartbreaking scene from "death of a saleman".

mom's visit was relatively uneventful. walked around brooklyn heights. she showed me where we lived for a year, when i was 3 or 4. vague memories stirred and faded.

when she left, broke out the jack and the smokes. flights of angels carried me to the darkest depths of slumber... i sometimes wish i could still cry.

the day of the locust

jesus, i'm strung out. my internals feel all sour. that must mean i'm getting healthier.

i'm scheduled for stuff at work all the way through the end of this month. this will be the first time i haven't taken a single day off for the christmas season since i began working in the real world.

what would i do anyway...? it doesn't help that christmas and new year's eve/day fall on weekends this year. i just can't get a break.

i almost forgot my mom is coming to visit this sunday (unless she cancels again). got to sober up by sunday morning.

december

breeze
>>>>still carries the sound
maybe
>>>>i'll disappear
try
>>to fade in the snow

you won't find me here . . .

ice
>>is starting to form
ending what had begun
i
>>>>>am locked in my head

with what i've done

i know you tried
>>>>>>>>>>to rescue me
didn't let any
>>>>>>>>>one get in

left with a trace
>>>>>>>>>of
>>>>>>>>>all that
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>was

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>and all that could have been . . .
—NIN