million dollar larceny

apparently, my previous entry failed to persuade the academy to offer scorsese the oscar he deserves. at least clint gets another (!) oscar for making a karate kid knockoff.

i officially loathe "million dollar baby". the cheap sentiment. the tired storyline. the senseless, meaningless final act. the academy's a bunch of suckers for honoring this piece o' shit. okay, i may be overly harsh here; if it weren't up for an oscar, if it didn't WIN the goddamn oscar, i might've cut it more slack. but it's fucking bullshit.

i fucking loved "the aviator". i know not everyone did, but you compare its artistic/technical/filmmaking ambitiousness and achievement to that of "million dollar brat", and it's laughable.

but i'm not laughing. because "girlfight" -- er, i mean "million dollar shitty" took the prize. and my blood is full of venom this mourning.

(and the show itself sucked -- may as well have been the blockbuster awards.)

a plea to the academy

please. i'm begging you. mother fuck million dollar baby.

ice storm

i love how it snows and it melts and it snows and it melts up in this fucking corner of the world.

quietish day @ work today. ptil. ("praise the imaginary lord.") some losers called out "sick", but i don't have to carry their load, so i don't have to bust kneecaps.

woke up this morning and thought it was my day off, for some reason. only managed to clock in about 5-6 minutes after the hour, despite this, which i'm proud of. also, i heard through the grapevine that in my special department, the higher-ups aren't such nazis about tardiness, which is a breath of fresh air. working for the devil really isn't that bad, folks. i think i'm even warming up to george w. -- i mean, his heart's in the right place, isn't it...?

i'm having some drinks again tonight. because i guess i just didn't learn my lesson two nights ago...

secret blog

the thing with having a secret blog is that nobody reads it.

well, and why have it? what makes it distinct from this shithole?

i guess i should just get back to writing. when i write a play, i can say things i'm ashamed of thinking -- because it's not me, it's these wacky characters. ha ha.

showed the new tat to ben the newop during our mourning smoke break today. he seemed... underwhelmed... hey, it just needs to be colored in, okay??

i've got an hour and a half of this cocksucking day to steel myself through. then i can slink back into a lonely city where nobody knows my name...

hole in the head

He drinks a whiskey drink...
He drinks a vodka drink...
He drinks a lager drink...
He drinks a cider drink...

i am so sick. it's noon and i still feel inebriated from last night. i haven't gotten wasted like that for at LEAST a few days...

need to chill wayyy out tonight. i'm actually feeling sicker as the day wears on. perhaps i really am dying... after so many failed attempts... (that's a joke, okay, worry-fans?)

hobble home... fix myself some canned soup... flip on the projector and emerse myself in darkness...

the slow fade

i don't know about you fuckers, but i'm fucking exhausted. 42 minutes left to burn on the punch-clock and i'm pooped.

nobody but burn-o reading my blog today? what about my secret blog?

wonder if i can score some coke somewhere up in this motherfucker...

this is not a dream

as soon as i stepped out my building this mourn, i took a bad spill on the sidewalk; it's like a slanted ice rink. nyc winters rock. i hope the winter stays for ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever...

had a bit of a nightmare last night that i characteristically cannot recall the narrative of. but freddy krueger was in it and he was actually scary. and at one point, i blew up/burned my thumb and it had a big hole in it but it wasn't bleeding and it didn't hurt.

the new tat is progressing rapidly through the stages of healing. not near as painful as the previous one. still needs coloring in, but i'm still getting accustomed to its presence.

i guess i should start a band now.

deliver us

there can be miracles
when you believe
though hope is frail
it's hard to kill...

admittedly, i have a fairly sizeable dvd collection. i don't absolutely love every movie i own. (through matters of circumstance, i don't even like some of them.) but all of them have some element that works. some of my favorite movies have critical flaws... but the stuff that works can really knock your hat off...

and you can learn from the stuff that flies and fails...

goodbye kitty

okay, it's on there... well, not completely. it needs to be colored in. and it needs to heal before it gets colored in. it's still swathed in bandages as i type this so i'm going to have to see what it looks like in a few hours. i've never actually gotten a tat in stages before, but i think this one's going to be the one.

got my other tat touched up a little, too, so i've got bandages on both arms.

i have more i'd like to say right now, but i'll save it for my secret blog...

"217"

My first semester, freshman year dorm room was "217".

"217" is also the number of the hotel room that Danny's forbidden to go into in "The Shining" (the book; in the movie, for some reason, Kubrick changed it to "237").

It may all be a stretch, but I'll use whatever I can to justify/remember the date.

2.17.05
Today should be the day I get my new tattoo.

My most complicated to date.

We'll see if this dude comes through tonight...

The design is original... but here's a hint:

love's a dog

well, if you read the update in the last entry, my ink-stain dreams were thwarted last night by a cloud of cannabis. hopefully, the tattoo-artist will remember the appointment we have tomorrow night. i cannot tell you how let down i was last night...

finally watched the copy of "amores perros" i borrowed from merillon about 14 years ago. it's really brilliant. i didn't realize that dogs tied all the stories together. it's a fuck of a long movie, but really sharp. i liked it more than "21 grams".

failed the background check at my company. (big surprise, huh?) the person i been dealing with has been a real B.I.T.C.H. it's really a stupid technicality. trying to sort it out. it was a long time ago. and those kids had it comin' to them...

first two marriage counseling sessions set. first one's this coming monday. light a candle for the sinners.

tomorrow's the big day (again). hopefully, my tattoo guy remembers...

the healing properties of ink [updated]

because i think the timing's right and i feel the need to balance my designs, i'm going under the ink gun again tonight. this should be my largest one yet. the last one hurt like a motherfucker. the design on this one should hurt in unique and remarkable ways.

a history of my inky bookmarks, for my own personal record:
November 1, 1997
March 14, 1998
January 1, 2000
September 24, 2004
December 24, 2004
[February 15 17, 2005]

certain people may think that i'll regret them in 20 years. but who says i've got 20 years...?

REVISION!!!
7:29pm:
well, this is what you get when you try to design something with a pot-head! the tattoo guy thought our appointment was for thursday, not tonight. he could have inked me up at later slot this evening, but he didn't have the designs ready! as much as i try to adhere to this "bookmark the date" manner of tattoos, i'd rather not have one hastily burned onto me, esp. after all the prep design i did for this one. fuck ducks. ok. february 17, 2005. i'll remember that date.

rage out of despair

bloody valentine's day, motherfuckers. for all you suicidal true believers, don't kill yourself on a pseudo-holiday manufactured by the assholes at hallmark. christmas and new year's eve are the best times for untimely deaths, so if you're reading this, you missed your chance for a while.

"cautiously optimistic" is the phrase for the year (so far).

the world's still very difficult and there's so much to do. but increasingly, i feel the need to clean house and show people what i'm made of. because people forget. or people never knew. but i genuinely want them to find out this year. out of the generosity of my boiling misanthropy.

things have been so fucked up for so long. i don't think anybody can fault me for not doing the best that i could in the past 5+ months. i'm not out of the woods yet, but come what may -- and though i may forget it at times -- i think this world needs me. one day, you'll know why.

Just a Perfect Crime

some people seem to think my blog is too dark to stomach. are some of my entries dark? strange, i hadn't noticed...

on the upside, things are looking brighter. found a new mc. i think this one's good. c's agreed to it and is committed to the process. things could still fail but i'll know that we tried.

dined with burn-o last night. had a good talk. i think i might finally be ready to start writing again -- beyond this demonic little blog i tend to. i think i'm ready to get back in the ring. i think i'd like to mount a show this year. something really good, for once...!

the past 5 months have been a long, dark ride. it's not over, but i think i'm beginning to see again. time to remind people what i'm capable of...

fell on black days

it's my pop's birthday today. does this mean i have to call? i already sent him $60 (+$20 shipping) worth of seafood. maybe i send email. i spoke to him TWICE last week. that's absurd. i know he helped create me, but is that something that should be rewarded?

been busy at work, but i'm at my "hiding desk" today. it's just a matter of time before people know i'm here. till that happens, i can quietly reflect on what i've become.

begin reflecting...

arms wide open with the sea as his floor

He could have tuned in,
tuned in,
but he tuned out.

A bad time
nothing could save him...

Alone in a corridor,
waiting,
locked out.
He got up outta there
ran for hundreds of miles...

He made it to the ocean,
had a smoke in a tree...
The wind rose up
set him down on his knee...

A wave came crashing like a fist to the jaw.
Deliver him wings, "Hey look at me now!"

Took a cab from the bar tonight. Felt like treating myself good. Ali Shuyeb was my driver. Halfway home, he asked me if I smoked, asked if I had a light. I gave him one. He offered me a cigarette. I told him I had my own. And so we smoked in the cab. He even stopped the meter a little short of my destination.

I have never had an experience like this in the 12 years I've been in this city.

last exit to brooklyn

i had a bad weekend. suffice it to say. didn't even drink that much.

i am worn out.

dark regions

this has been a black weekend. i don't know what happened. nothing happened. perhaps that is what happened. i wrote a blog entry two days ago that i didn't post. yesterday, i used a discount ticket ($7.50) to watch two movies -- "Assault on Precinct 13" and "Million Dollar Baby". I saw them at the movie theater at Battery Park. I had never been there before. It was okay and it was perfect for sneaking. I liked both movies. I liked Million Dollar Baby because I could cry in the dark and nobody thought it was strange. i probably will not buy million dollar baby on dvd because i think it's stupid. at the end, i was left with the feeling of, "well what was that for?" but it gave me an excuse to cry, and i liked it up to a point, and so that is okay. i hope martin scorsese kills it with "the aviator". if "the aviator" wins its oskars, then there is still hope in the world. if "million dollar baby" wins, there is no hope. this is called 'magical thinking'.

didn't have anybody to talk to this weekend. i cycled through my cell phone and couldn't find anyone. thought about calling steph, but thought she might call 911 and i didn't feel like freaking her out. i think being put in a hospital would be the worst thing for me right now. the health care system in this country is fucking fucked. it's all wrong. i am broken and there is no where to be repaired.

people will read this and think, well, he's gone off the deep end, it's malice being malice, i don't get it, he's nuts. but consider, for a moment, that he's not. that he's fighting for his life. that this is the biggest fight of his life thus far. that this isn't petty. that this isn't just 'his problem'. that this really does not make sense. that he is in great physical and spiritual pain. that 'letting this go' might be a death in itself.

well, i'm still standing. i wonder if she reads this. wonder if she takes it as me guilting her. wonder if she takes it as me being selfish. wonder if she understands how much i've fought to come this far. wonder if she appreciates how much she left behind. wonder if she appreciates how much i did for her.

five months. coming on six. running out of places to turn. i'm fighting. no matter what anyone thinks or doesn't understand. come what may, i'm fighting.

this really is, by far, the worst time of my life. i just spoke with my dad two nights ago and he's calling again tonight. i hate talking to my father. you'd understand if he were your father. i really have nothing to talk to him about. i loathe talking to him. i put on a mask and i humor him. all for the sake of making him go away.

everything is dying

oh...

people are a'feared to comment on the entries that speak cavalierly about death. courage up, sporadic readers. death is not the end of all things. it's just the beginning of a new adventure...

why must every day be paved with dread... [insert rhetorical question mark]

weekend plans fallen through. i'm vulnerable to attack. say goodbye.

waiting for the bombs to drop

what is it, wednesday? i've worked 1 1/2 days this week and it's already too much. 2+2=5. nothing makes sense and nobody cares.

i went to bed earlier last night, yet i got up more tired than ever.

i was smart this morning. i had a cry before i left the apartment so i didn't have the urge on the train. aren't i clever?

having trouble keeping it together lately. seems all my friends who were single boys are now in steady relationships. more power to them, but it just highlights my loserdom.

everyone in my immediate family called me this past weekend. it's as if they sensed a disturbance in the force. i only spoke with my mom. a short conversation, told her i was fine. ha ha.

my dad's birthday next week. i'm thinking of getting him a funeral for his son. hooray for life.

widow for a year

sometimes 2+2=5
sometimes 2+2=4
sometimes 2+2=3

sometimes, all three are true at once. it's enough to make you want to blow your brains out.

-+-

called out sick yesterday. i couldn't bear to go in. used up my first sick day of the year. i'd better parcel out the remainder of my allotment more prudently. it's going to be a long year.

my depression has been renewed and fortified lately. just fired our marriage counselor for being shitty. now i gotta find a new one that isn't so terrible. (you can email me privately if you've any leads.) till then, every day is another nail in my coffin. each day widens the rift.

too depressed to cry. i have all weekend to weep my eyes out in privacy, but i end up getting choked up on the train to work. what's wrong with me...?

-+-

things not to say to malice:

"it's not the end of the world..."
"it's just a girl..."
"you're young... you have your whole life ahead of you..."
"this is the worst of it -- it'll get easier..."
"maybe she never really loved you..."

-+-

it's been 5 months. each day, a part of me dies. i'm resuscitated, i'm killed, resuscitated, killed. i should wear a bracelet: 'no heroic measures'. maybe i'm better off dead. has anyone considered this possibility??

you've never been alone if you've never been alone like this.