New Year's Eve Recluse

New Year's Eve, an hour to burn on 2005, and I have failed. This is the first year I've been absolutely alone on new year's eve since sometime in the 90's. No party. No friends. No "other". Just me, the Sin City Deluxe DVD, smokes and some beer.

The floor of the Fortress of Solitude 2.0 is covered in glue. I'm building a small side-table out of old videotapes, glue and paper. I'm making a fucking mess and it sounds totally weird but it'll look cool when it's done, and it'll fit in with the whole papier-mâché motif I've got going in the new joint. The loneliest spot on earth.

This week off, I've fallen behind. I wanted to finish setting up the place, the place is still a mess. I outlined a new play I thought I could finish writing in a week, I'm still on scene 1. I've gotten drunk at the same bar one time too many. I've played a lot of videogames. And at the end of the week, at the end of the year, I am alone. Updating this stupid fucking blog. Ha ha. I look stupid.

I've got two more days before I'm back at work. Wonder if anything's going to be open tomorrow. I've got two days to turn things around. Don't count me out just yet. I'm always the dark horse.

Happy new year. Happy new year, motherfuckers. Get ready for a change.

modern n'fiction

... I retrieved the oblong box from my bag and handed it to my mother.

"You should take this."

"What is it?" she asked as I opened the box for her, revealing the small, white-gold bracelet.

"She didn't feel right keeping it."

I had expected my mother to break into tears -- but instead, she smiled, liberated the bracelet from its box and fastened it on her own wrist.

"Good, well then I'll wear it!" she crowed.

"Did that belong to you or did you buy it?" I asked, not really wanting to know either way. (I wasn't about to tell her that I'd thought about selling it in the Diamond District the past few months, while it was in my possession and I was strapped for cash.)

"Oh, I bought it for her," my mother confirmed. "It was over $200. I knew she liked silver." She turned out her wrist and admired how the bracelet draped over her skin. "It looks good on me, doesn't it?"

"It looks great," I said -- then, sheepishly, "Merry Christmas."

My mom laughed but I felt downright ghoulish. I hadn't bothered to get anyone gifts that year. Here I was returning a gift she'd given to her ex-daughter-in-law -- this was all I had for my mother this year. A reminder that her son's marriage had failed and he'd forgotten to get her even a token present for Xmas.

I helped her put sheets on the guest bed I was to sleep on that weekend.

"That was nice that she gave it back," my mother added.

"Yes, yes it was."

"You know, I really loved--" my mother paused and corrected herself, "I really love her. I really do. I think she's a really good girl."

I choked back the protests that collected into a lump in my throat. Don't love her, mom. I don't love her anymore. In fact, I think I kind of hate her.

"Yeah, she was a good girl, mom."

Christmas Day 2005

I walk the streets of Japan till I get lost

Cause it doesn't remind me of anything

With a graveyard tan n'carrying a cross

It doesn't remind me of anything

I like studying faces in a parking lot

Cause it doesn't remind me of anything

I like travelling backwards in the fall

Cause it doesn't remind me of anything

The things that I've loved,
things that I've lost
Things I've held sacred
that I've dropped
I won't lie -- no more -- you can bet

I don't want to learn what I'll need
to forget...

Lonely Island

"The Chronic (WHAT??) Cles of Narnia!"

for those of you who i *haven't* forwarded this to already, this was a digital short they broadcast on SNL last weekend. i've watched it approximately a billion times already and still laugh occasionally.

it comes (mostly) from the minds of The Lonely Island, a 3-man filmmaker unit recently relocated from Out West to Out East, to write/perform for SNL. their shorts are excellent. if i could be as disciplined about writing as i am about updating this shitty blog, maybe *i'd* have a career. just imagine! (but then i'd have to take responsibility for my failure.)

for those that care, it's old news that the strike's over and service is restored almost throughout the city. now, if only i had somewhere to go today...

i've got clothes in the dryer downstairs. let's see if i've managed not to fuck it up this time. when they're out, i'm gonna ride my bike around central park a little bit coz i'm tired of using my feet to walk like a fucking schnook. no helmet, though. malice has a death wish he wants fulfilled.

Have a Christy, Christ-Filled Christ-mas, Christ-Killers!

labor chaos

M. Alice Highload tries to be a man of the people, but he can't deny that he works for The Man.

this is day 3 of the transit strike in this big, dumb city. i walked the three and a half miles to work yesterday. today, i found the bus that my company has secured for employees. half a block from my doorstep.

felt a bit guilty riding the bus. felt better about myself traversing the 50+ blocks to work on foot. hitting the pavement with all the common people. a lot of people have it so much worse than me. and i'm whining coz i can't go drinking at my regular watering holes with my regular crowd?

yes i am. because there is nothing more important in my life right now than getting fucking demolished on a semi-regular basis.

this strike needs to end! i want the union dead! i want their families dead! i want their houses burned to the ground, i want to go there in the middle of the night and piss on their ashes!

You said the union forever...
You cried the union forever...!
But that was untrue, girl!!!

COZ IT CAN'T BE LOVE!!!
FOR THERE IS NO TRUE LOVE!!!

i need a smoke.

Brett Ratner is a fucking moron.

nice fucking commute, dipshit

it takes just under an hour. just under an hour to get from my new home to my job on a sporadically-brisk "power" walk. including a "victory cigarette" on the final stretch. i don't mind the exercise or the time -- it's getting out the door earlier in the mourning. that's the pain in the gulliver. that's when i reach for my revolver; that's when it all gets blown away.

day two of the nyc transit strike and the top story on cnn.com is elton john's big gay marriage. how quickly people lose interest. the rest of the country could give two fucks about our transportation crisis. (please give two fucks... i'll settle for one pity fuck... or a nice makeout session... am i still talking about the transit strike...? i don't know -- i'm just so damningly lonely...!)

how useless is the "Straphangers Campaign"? unapologetically.

eff meowking. eff rico. eff jackie. off with their heads. they're dead to me. the lot of them.

new york city sucks. i don't know what the big deal is. nessun dorma.

CITY GOES BATSHIT AGAIN!!!

woke up still drunk from last night. stumbling around my apartment trying to piece together how i got home.

transit strike is on. what the fuck is up with this city? i'd put up a link to a story but i'm still feeling pretty queasy and it's a miracle i got through the workday, and i just want to start my long journey home.

the transit union blows. they're gonna have to start jailing those fuckers. and it doesn't look like it's going to resolve anything. it's just a fucking pissing contest. EMBARGO ON. who runs bartertown? the fucking pig-shitters. now can we get a motherfucking train rolling again?

at least it's extremely cold and unpleasant outside...

you're not a teenager (so don't act like one)

good mourning, world. i had a full weekend. saw a wide swath of friends, in a prism of scenarios all over the city. had a great time, all in all, but i'm fucking beat and i still have to go to my company holiday party tonight. i don't *have* to go, but i've been looking forward to it for forever and it would be silly to pass it up because i'm tired and it's a monday night and there's the threat of a train strike @ midnight. those are actually three very sound reasons, but i'm still goin out...

newop called out sick today. i wonder if it's because i punched him in the balls saturday night.

no, i've got no plans for new year's eve this year. and unless it's something really cool, i'm going to be hiding in my foxhole, because i don't want to be the lonely guy hanging out with a bunch of couples.

this marks my last week of work for the year. let's get this over with, a'right?

WHOOO Runs Bartertown...?

Roger Toussiant runs Bartertown...

EMBARGO OFF!

well, the MTA strike is postponed. kind of. they've started with about 700 bus drivers that don't affect me. the new deadline for the rest of the MTA is midnight monday -- if it happens, it's gonna be a hell of a week. (my last 4 days of work this year.) but at least my weekend is salvaged from almost certain ruin.

today was Howard Stern's last terrestrial broadcast. i've been listening to the radio broadcast simultaneously with the Yahoo live video broadcast, both on varying tape delays. i've gone through extended periods of listening to howard and not listening to howard over the years, so i'm not a psychotic fan, but i'm really curious what he's going to do unencumbered on satellite. though i still find it hard to justify paying to listen to the fucking radio.

i am sooo fucking broke and i've got to make it through a week and a half before my next paycheck... merry fucking christmas, old boy...

the lion jesus

Mary Stevenson:
One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord.
Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky.
In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand.
Sometimes there were two sets of footprints,
other times there were one set of footprints.

This bothered me because I noticed
that during the low periods of my life,
when I was suffering from
anguish, sorrow or defeat,
I could see only one set of footprints.

So I said to the Lord,
“You promised me Lord,
that if I followed you,
you would walk with me always.
But I have noticed that during the most trying periods of my life
there have only been one set of footprints in the sand.
Why, when I needed you most, have you not been there for me?”

The Lord replied,
“The times when you have seen only one set of footprints in the sand... is when I carried you.”


"The Lord" is a rotten fucking liar...

Other Lies "The Lord" Sold Her:
10. That time you got cancer, I was testing your strength.
9. You have a great many friends who love and respect you.
8. What you're doing with your life is NOT a waste of time.
7. All dogs go to heaven.
6. I read your blog every day.
5. John Mayer has a soul.
4. Time heals all wounds.
3. You can't get pregnant the first time, baby...
2. You're a good person.
1. I exist.

you're nobody til somebody loves you...

i really pushed it with leaving the apartment late this mourn -- and i still made it on time, but i got lucky. can't get too cocky or i'll end up really fucking up.

things are winding down on 20'05. what a ballbreaker of a year it's been. twenty-oh-four ended in a fucking coma. oh-five's ending on death, with the dim promise of resurrection.

being alone/unloved/unwanted/despised isn't so bad, really. i don't need anyone to complete me. i'm a perfect hate-machine all on my own. pretty on the inside. the death of the party. the only time my solitude is pronounced is when i'm hanging out with couples. which is almost all the time. then it's the dog's bollocks.

to hell with love...

strike club

had to call out sick yesterday because i was sick. chinese hot pot @ christopha's. i can't be trusted to cook my own seafood.

this mourn, i forgot both my monthly-metrocard and my work ID. why-me?-why-me?-why-me?

looks like they terminated tookie. hasta la vista... nobel peace prize nominee.

pending transit strike on friday. may not mean much to the silent readers from out of town, but it's got the potential to really cripple this city. everyone takes the trains. and thursday night's supposed to be a really shitty storm. i am so glad i don't work on fridays. i hope the strike only lasts the one day, and it resolves itself by the weekend. that would be the most convenient scenario for me.

i need a vee-cay-shun... maybe in china...

COZ WHAT YOU SEE YOU MIGHT NOT GET!

fucking trains. i'm either super-early or super-late. it's a good thing my accumulated suck-up points at work afford me some clemency...

ever notice there's a curious dearth of photo-stills of LARDASS HOGAN from Stand By Me on the internet?

well, never let it be said that i never contributed anything valuable to the internet.

cold as a motherfucker out there, isn't it...?

LINK OF THE WEEK ALERT!

DON'T YOU TELL ME TO SMILE!

i'll risk assuming she doesn't read this any longer and take a stab at being candid. if there's one thing i resent my ex for -- and trust there most certainly isn't just one -- it's for forcing me to dive back into the fucking dating pool. i know some people enjoy it, or have an easier time of it. but why on earth would anything be easy for me?

the question rose in my mind -- before last night, after last night -- why would i go out with someone i had a bad feeling about? the answer...? because i'm fucking stupid. the devil's advocate question may rise in your head -- perhaps it was bad because you sabotaged it going in? i promise you, i gave it all i had. didn't phone this one in. even when it looked bad. cranked up the charm as if i were out with the most gorgeous and engaging person i had ever met. (which i was decidedly not.) and i am a fucking jesus of feigning interest... but i was dying last night.

fuck this shit.

(dropping mic on stage, stalking off. scattered, reluctant applause. HOST walks on and retrieves mic.)

HOSTThat was... uh...
(looking down at loose-leaf paper)"Malice Highload", another round of applause for Malice Highload. You may recognize our next performer from Russell Simmons's Def Poetry Jam...

BRACE YOURSELF, FOOL!

i don't know how long this is going to be there, but if you're in nyc, get your jaded ass down to times square to see THE EIGHTH WONDER OF THE WORLD. i found this online yesterday and made a point to walk through times square on my way home from work last night. it's 1:1 scale model. it's bloody massive... and it looks sooo depressed!

RUN FOR YOUR FUCKING LIVES!!!

DOOKIE

the first snow of the season's always jarring. i know it's december already, but it's still a shocker waking up to it. i used to love the snow as a kid. now, it just means a season of slipping on the sidewalks and having to wear boots to work.

got to be more selective about going out drinking. it's just a huge drain on money and i need to be doing the solitary work thing at night. or at least more than i have. the new place is set up enough so that i shouldn't have excuses. it's just hard cracking out the self-discipline. got to keep focused...

motherfucker, it's the perfect crime

"happy" december, sporadic readers. whatsisface forwarded me this account of a
shitty russian group of meat-heads who run a scam-heavy "discount" electronics store online. parallels something that happened to me a few years ago. please read it through and be careful where you buy from online. i always stick with the mickey mouse retail outlets. safer that way.

what a mundane entry this has become. perhaps i'll punch it up later, when i'm doing absolutely nothing.