transformative properties of fire

great fucking god volcano, some dizzy fucking hoople-head passed a bug onto me on my way out the dayjob, and i'm still trying to shake it.

low, low, low profile the next couple weeks.

rebuilding a life takes time.

reimagining a life takes some trial-and-error.

as great as this all is, this is nothing i ever imagined "it" would be like.

got to get my strength back up. give me a few days.

sister, when i've raised hell, you'll know it...

LAST EXIT

ENTRY # 735:

This is the end of ACT 2.

ACT 1 having covered childhood through adolescence.

ACT 2 having covered young adulthood, death and rebirth.

There is a third act... it's known as THE PRESTIGE...

Last day at the ding dang dong day-job. Last day swimming in this cesspool of misfits. I wish I had something profound to offer at the end of it all. Six years at this job. I've been at this job longer than this blog has existed. The job outlasted my fucking marriage.

Last day here, my apathy shows no signs of abating. I did manage to clock in on time, one last time... but I think that's where the effort ceases. I've got the better of 10 hours to serve yet, but I suspect that I shall NOT be a great asset to the company as the clock runs out.

To be honest, I'm feeling a wee bit run down. I hope I didn't catch something from one of the freaks here. If I did, I will be... less than merciful.

Last Tuesday

You drained my heart...
and made a spade...

More and more convinced that this is what I've needed to do. Not just for my own good. For everyone I work with at this deskjob. My exit means timely promotions for others. NewSleazeOn can stop smoking coz he doesn't have to be my smoke-buddy no more. It's like there's some kind of greater plan set in motion.

It's my second to last day and I'm dying here. I thought I'd have some fun, but I just hate being here... the novelty of having one foot out the door has worn thin.

Clocked in 20 minutes late this mourn. Doesn't matter. Even if I have to slouch back here in a few months with my tail between my legs, I can claim that I was fucking up during this last month because I was preoccupied and working late.

Let's go already!!!

Last Thursday

Last Thursday here.

One more Tuesday and Wednesday next week.

And then I'm gone.

Blame it on the Deathstar

We're all slaves to a big machine!

Next week, I escape from the one I've been shackled to for the past six(!) years.

WEDNESDAY
SEPTEMBER 27, 2006.

I'm working just two days next week. Tuesday and Wednesday. They've already got a replacement for me, so I'll be sitting in a "floater" position for my last two days. The machine doesn't mourn. It shifts gears and continues its operations. As if you were never there.

So much of this blog has been informed by my oppressive 9-5 day job. What'll this become afterwards? Just a series of rants about the non-existence of a personal life? Jigga-wha?

"Newop" is about to become "NewLiaison" (or something catchy like that). They grow up so quick, shoot.

I might take a road trip to Wisconsin. I hear they're cool there. Perhaps take a few days in London, see what there's to see.

So... anybody looking for a lunch buddy...?

I Have Seen Too Much

I try to watch as much as I can because I'm a pop culture junkie and if I wanna be able to write this shit eventually I should be aware of what people are doing... but there's entirely too much new television this season that I'm trying to test drive. I'm hoping most of it will be stuff I won't need to bother watching a second episode of, but I even get suckered into the crap because I'm always curious where they go with something.

I despise PRISON BREAK. Seems like it's written by a high school kid who thinks he's clever. The logic is absurd. The whole thing's half-baked. Yet the second season's kicked off and I've been DVRing them shits coz I'm curious where they go with it all. But I may have to give up the cause, soon. There are limits to my patience.

Speaking of patience, I'm waiting for my lawyers to finish combing through my contract to make sure it's all good for me to sign. Let's go, already!

So Much for the Cat & Mouse Shit...

Take your places, choose your sins
Everyone loses, no one wins
I have seen the future... and this is how it begins...

In chaos & riots!!!
The screech of machines!!!
No right and no wrong!!!
And no in-between!!!
Fall one by one -- the queen to her fool!!!
Dos dedos mis amigos:
EVERYTHING'S COOL...

Two weeks notice, motherfuckers! Jesus-Mary'n-Joseph, this is really happening, isn't it?! I'm leaving this cocksucking day job, aren't I?! AREN'T I, DAMN YOU!!!

Well... at the very least... in the worst case scenario, I'll have a good three months off before I might be hurting for money enough to slouch back here. My biggest fear is having to come back here... which is insane because the alternative to that is actually keeping my career going in the entertainment industry and raising the stakes... but that's what I'm going to have to do, isn't it...? ISN'T IT!!!

This is the beginning of my last FULL week here. I've got next Monday off and I may have to leave early on my last day, 9/28.

It's the perfect crime... what could possibly go wrong???

Look Both Ways Before You Cross Me...

Good lord, the end is nigh...

For the record, I have never given as much "exit notice" as I've given at my current place of employ.

At my first day job out of college, I stomped off following a massive yelling match with a higher-up. Never looked back.

My second day job, I gave less than 2 weeks notice. Acrimoniously.

My third day job, I offered 3 days.

My fourth, I gave them about 2 weeks. Graveyard shift. Talk about "the suck".

And this, my fifth, I've given a relatively opulent 4 weeks notice! Not including today, that gives me just two more weeks to go.

HEY, MALICE! WE GET IT ALREADY! WHY DO YOU HAVE TO KEEP BLOGGING ABOUT IT?

Because I've got nothing else to fucking blog about in my cock-a-doodie life, goddamnit! Noth-ing!!! Just a whole lotta waiting for things to happen! Can't get much more passive than me... the most active thing I'm able to do right now is GLOAT! It's all I've fucking got in the world! There, I said it! Are you satisfied???


NO...

You Give Love a Bad Name

September 12th is National Monkey-Cat Day. Holla.

In honor of it, I clocked in super-late this mourn. 16 minutes late, to be precise. I'm totally pushing it, up in here. Less than 3 weeks to go. 9 work days (including today), to be exact. My attitude toward this day job's grown increasingly flippant... and it's not like I was exactly reverent toward it before.

It's like... what could they possibly do to me? I'm about to take a running jump into the abyss.

Hey, pigs! Nothing can hurt me! I've become so numb! I'm a little bit older than you!

I know where you live!

Love & Darkness & My Sidearm

Happy 9/11 Remembrances, Y'ALL!

Has it been 5 years already? Coz it feels like an eff-yoo-see-kay-ing lifetime ago. My life was so different. My priorities were so different. Most people probably grew to appreciate their loved ones more. I've gone through the reverse. I've just grown colder and colder. Loved ones are transient figures. Nothing really matters. Except maybe my career and what I'd like to leave behind before I die.
***
I watched Paul Greengrass's United 93 this weekend and it knocked me down. Started watching it around 2am and just had to keep watching to the end, it got my adrenaline pounding.

There's a part where they show all these people on that airplane making phone calls to loved ones, saying goodbye. I was trying to imagine what I would do, if I were in that situation today. If I could make just one phone call. I don't think I'd want to call anyone in my family. I'd hate to hear them crying at the end. I imagined I might call her. Say, "I don't love you, but I feel like I want to care about someone before I die, and there was a time when I cared about you completely. So I want to let you know that I'm probably not going to be walking away from this..."

What a wholly morbid anniversary this is...

Necro Philly Axe

This story deserves to be a blog entry.

Just because you're lonely and horny, dudn't make it right!!!

Maybe they were at the graveyard to attend an innocent monster party...?

No One's Gonna Bother Me Anymore...

Foreshadowing... all those entries about sleepless nights... what kind of pattern is my body clock going to adopt when I've got nowhere I need to "clock in" at 8am?

Last night... made myself an overly elaborate dinner... fell asleep way too early (9:30ish)... woke up way too early (1:30ish)... four fuckin hours and my body convulses back to life... no wonder my eyes are perpetually bloodshot, the amount of sleep I never get... I'm no morning person but I always seem to be up to watch the dawn...

But clocking in, the day job, this last month... none of it really matters anymore. Coming in late, clocking out early, taking extra long lunches. Nobody gives a fuck. If anyone complained twice they got hit so bad, believe me, they never complained again...

Didn't matter. It didn't mean anything. When I was broke, I'd go out and rob some more. We ran everything. We paid off cops. We paid off lawyers. We paid off judges. Everybody had their hands out. Everything was for the taking...

Think About The Future

Been watching a lot of movies for inspiration...

Tim Burton's original BATMAN has a lot of good things in it. I even like some of those Prince songs.

The credits read:

Story by Sam Hamm

Screenplay by Sam Hamm and Warren Skaaren

I wonder what happened to Sam...

I'm hoping I get more than a "Story by" or "Based on a play by" credit on my movie... if I were a more established playwright, I might have a better chance, but I'm a newbie in all worlds... but if I can get the script right, hopefully they won't want to spend more money on another screenwriter...

This marks the beginning of my last month at my day job. I really don't want to have to come back here, so I've really gotta get my shit together. Get it together. See what's happening...

I'm From Manhattan M.C.A.'s from Brooklyn... Yeah, M.C.A., your shit be cooking! Praying mantis on the court and I can't be beat... So, Yo Tip, what's up with the boot on your feet???

I've got the Timbos on the toes and this is how it goes... Oh! One Two, oh my god... One Two, oh my god, I've got some shit, I've got the Kung Fu Grip behind my green trap kit...! Never, ever, ever smoking crack! Never, ever, ever fucking wack! I eat the fuckin' pineapple now & laters; listen to me now, don't listen to me later. (Fuck it coz I know I didn't make it fuckin' rhyme for real, but, yo, technically I'm as hard as steel!!!)

Gonna. Get it. Together. (Watch it!) Gonna. Get it. Together.

Ma Bell!!! I'm like Ma Bell, I've got the Ill Communications...!

Everything You've Ever Wanted

I remember when...
I remember, I remember when I lost my mind...
There was something so pleasant about that place...
Even your emotions had an echo
In so much space...

And when you're out there,
Without care,
Yeah... I was out of touch...
... but it wasn't because I didn't know enough...
I just knew too much...

Some men get the world. Others get ex-hookers and a trip to Arizona.

To be honest, some days I wish I were in Arizona.

Oh, September! Where did you go-whoah!!!

I'm excited about this autumn. September's going to be a bitch, though. My last month of day job life. For this year, at least. (Hopefully, for good.)

I hate having creative conversations over the phone at the day job. That's what I'm most dreading this month. There's no privacy at the cubicle farm. I'll be on the fucking phone talking to a Paramount exec, explaining why there's a portal to hell in this small town. I hang up the phone and I feel like an idiot. Surrounded by suddenly-quiet i-bankers who must think I'm on crack.

This has been a good year, though. 9 months into 2006 and things couldn't be better. Well, things could be a lot better, actually... but I really couldn't have wished for anything better than what I've gotten.

Can I get a "HELL YEAH"???

No...? It's all right, I'm good. Thanks for reading.