Okay...

Many things have happened and are still happening, so I have been negligent in writing on this here thing. My apologies to the two of you who read this. I actually have the next couple of installments written, and after I proof them, I will put them up. Now is a good time to reiterate my disclaimer.

DISCLAIMER: Though the main characters in this piece are named after actual people in my life, they are more accurately composites of many people. None of these characters are intended to specifically represent the people for whom they are named. Moreover, while some of the events portrayed here are based on actual happenings, this is a WORK OF FICTION, and no intent is made to accurately depict events as they actually happened. Still other events are entirely fictional, and I would expect you intelligent folk to know the difference.

(Fiction pt 4) Taking issue with reissue... part one.

"Come on, Brooksie, get in the spirit of the occasion."

"Sit the fuck down, this is a bar, not the Met; and you need to check your habit of putting 'ie' at the end of everyone's name. Unlike Chris, I'll spare you the lecture and just deck you."

"Man, what's up YOUR ass... oh... man, I'm sorry, I know it must be tough to deal with Chris hanging out with one of your friends."

"Look, Jason... if I didn't want you guys fucking, I could stop you guys from fucking. I just don't understand your utter lack of class in constantly going on about it."

"Well, to be fair Brooks, she is miles apart from the tranny prostitutes he usually bangs."

"Although not quite as feminine."

"Man, fuck you guys."

Situation averted. It was as if the whole fracas had never happened. Jay was easy, you could distract him as easily as a jackdaw with a shiny object. The rest of the guys could take some cajoling, but they generally followed along. Joe and Ryan were known to belabor a point or two, but they seemed to sense that tonight wasn't the night.

"So Bender, where's your hot li'l net whore from?"

Then, sometimes Jay could be surprisingly tenacious.

"Dude, let it go."

"No, she's the new love of your life, and we... we are your friends. Come, regale us with the tale of your first meeting, the first time your eyes met hers, your first kiss... oh, wait... none of that happened, because SHE'S A MAN, BABY."

Yes, he did that in his bad Austin Powers accent. The classics never die, they just become part of Jay's vernacular.

"God, tell him so we can move on."

"Yea, Mikey, we don't even CARE anymore, she's from, like California or something, right? Hell man people meet on the net all the time... distance means nothing."

"No, she's from here, actually."

"Very cool, when can we meet her?"

"You can't"

"Oh, come on Mikey, we can play nice if need be, bring her out sometime, hell, it's early, call her now."

"No, you can't because... well, she's incarcerated."

The pause was thick with tobacco smoke and alcohol fumes, and it seemed to last a lifetime. Then... it came...

"Oh. That is too much. You found yourself a JAILBIRD? Sorry, man, I don't mean to laugh, but... YES I DO. She's in JAIL? Oh this is GREAT."

"Jay, cut it out."

"Oh, GOD. PRISON! Is she an embezzler, Mikey? Didja give her all of your credit card numbers, too? Hell, the first part of my theory fits, too... she's STILL a man, in prison, for embezzlement, and YOU LOVE HIM."

"JAY!"

"Okay Sloey, sorry man... it's just..."

"She's on house arrest. She's at home, she just can't leave. Something about a illegal stock transfer. It sounds, to me, like she took a fall for a bigwig. We talk on the computer, but we also have webcams. I've seen her, and in a month or two, we are going to actually date. She's very cool, or so it seems. Is that enough for you Jay? Or do you need for me to procure documented identification?"

"So she's a girl, then."

"Yes, Jay. Christ. I'm not an idiot, I just play one on this bad TV show we seem to be cast in."

"Well, very cool, Bender. What's her name."

Bender sighed.

"Michael. Shut up, Jay."

Jay almost completely stifled his explosive gaffaw. I was somewhat impressed.

"So she can leave the house, when?"

"Technically two months, but she may get done earlier. I know it's weird, and I almost blew the whole thing off when I found out her story. She's really smart, though, and she's a music geek. Not to mention she likes football."

"Who's she root for?"

"Cleveland."

"That'll work nicely, you being a Steelers fan and all."

"I know, we've already joked about that. Honestly, she's the best thing that's happened to me in years, barring the jail thing."

"Well, good, Mikey... and I mean that."

"Thanks, Jay."

"So, Ry, you hear about the Cure reissues?"

"Uh oh."

Ryan's big pet peeve in life is the constant reissuing of catalog product by his favorite bands. He has purchased the Elvis Costello oevure in toto 4 times. The problem with being a completist, you see is that you have to have EVERYTHING by that band, no expense spared. It is more than an addiction, it is a cancer.

"WHAT?"

"Yeah man, Rhino's releasing all of the Cure records remastered with a second bonus disc, just like the Costello reissues."

"Goddamnit. What's on 'em?"

"You know, live, demos, unreleased stuff... pretty cool sounding."

"does it overlap the box?"

"Huh?"

"The FUCKING boxed set, does it overlap? Are the bonus tracks on the b sides box?"

"Oh, no, totally different tracks."

"FUCKING Rhino. 'We collect records so you don't have to.' I own all that stuff already. Fuck it, I'm not buying in."

"I don't know Ryan, those initial CD's sounded pretty rough."

"Yeah, and you still can't buy a copy of Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me that has that song... what is it? Something about Christmas."

"'Hey You'."

"Yeah, who needs it, right Ryan? I mean that song sucked anyway, right?"

"I love that song."

"I'm sure you have it on some other digital format don't you?"

"I downloaded it..."

"Right, so you don't need to rebuy that one ANYWAY, because it's not like the ARTWORK matters or anything."

"Guys, please stop, he's going to..."

"No, B, it's fine. These guys think that it's funny. they don't understand, you see? They don't GET that I have BOUGHT those FUCKING records three times already."

"Four if you count the import copies you bought last year."

"RIGHT. Four times... and it's a JOKE, isn't it? A BIG COSMIC joke. All of these bastards can't put anything out worthwhile anymore. They have lost their GODDAMN muse, so instead, they REISSUE... REMASTER... REPACKAGE... so fucking ASSPLUGS like me will rebuy and rebuy..."

(Fiction pt 3) Aftermath...

I suppose that it was good that Christine left when she did, because it spared her from witnessing the last few hours of the evening. As drinks were poured and stories were told, an almost palpable cloud of (what? doom? anger? sadness? distance?) uncertainty fell over the favored table near the rear of the bar.

"Well... I guess she told you."

"Bender, let's not, okay?"

"Fuck you, Mikey. What would you understand about human emotions and turmoil? You never experience them. You sit in front of a goddamn laptop all day chatting with 60 year old men purporting themselves to be eligible young women."

"Listen Jay, I sit in front of a laptop because it is my job to do so. If I choose to meet..."

"Shut up, Mikey, I've had my fuckin' lecture for the evening. I don't feel the need to listen to another one from you."

"Fine, Jay, but you got that lecture for being an ass. Your continuing to be an ass after said lecture makes you not only an ass, but an unrepentant one."

"And..."

"... and you need to take two seconds to think about other people's feelings for a change. Geez Jay, when is the last time you actually said something nice to someone."

"Wait, I think i have it written down here... yeah, here it is, 1994."

"It's no joke, Ry. The guy acts like a dick from sun up until sunset, and no one ever calls him on it. We just laugh and say, 'Aw, that's just Jay,' and I think that's bullshit."

"Okay, so tell us Dr. Phil, what do you suggest we do about it?"

"I don't know, THIS. Occasionally look at the fucktard and say, 'Hey, that's enough."

"Okay, Jay, that's enough."

"Thanks for jumping right on that."

"Look guys, I have to tell you that Jay isn't going to change because of an evening of drunken amateur analysis. Jay, I don't know what your damage is, pal, but what you said to Chris was out of line."

"I know Joe, but..."

"Shut up and listen for a second. We've listened to your anger-driven rants all night, so just listen to me. We tolerate the constant jousting back and forth, because we all do it. Even Christine gets involved, hell she's better at it than us, usually..."

"Exactly..."

"SHUT IT, JAY. I'm not defending your actions, here. I'm saying that if a girl like Chris, who has a skin thicker than steel was upset by your commentary, then you were way over the top. Further, if you were over the top with THIS crowd, then you were skirting the incredible with the rest of the world. My point is this, you need to learn to interact with human beings, Jay. People aren't put on this earth specifically for you to take shots at them. They aren't material for whatever warped comedy show plays in your head everyday. They are PEOPLE, Jason, and they deserve the same respect that you feel that you deserve."

After a moment of silence, Ryan and Bender rose and gave Joe a standing ovation. Within moment, Jay grinned and did the same. I stayed seated, I recognize second rate material when I see it.

(Fiction pt 2) Hell hath no fury...

"So you aren't going to the show then."

"Wow. Mikey, do I need to send you a certified letter? No, I'm not going to the fucking show. I have Grace and Kieran that weekend anyway."

"Aw, how are the chirrens, B?"

"Good, good. I don't see 'em enough, but they seem to be well. Dee's been a lot cooler about everything, I'm guessing because I'm not such an ass these days."

"To her, you mean."

"Right, to her. You still earn my wrath every day you breathe, Bender. You will continue to do so until you stop babbling about Lord of the Rings, and stop wearing that 10-years-too-late-wannabe-George Michael-Caesar hairdo."

"How long does it take you to make your hair do that, Bender?"

"And how much product? Hey, Jay, reach over and see how close you can put your lighter before it ignites."

"And ruin a perfectly good lighter? Thank you, no. Bender, I'm going to that show, Saturday."

"You want to get a couple of beers before?"

"FUCK no, I want to coordinate a plan to ensure that I never cross paths with yer too-old-to-be-an-indie-kid ass. You taking this mystery date to the show?"

"She's not from here, Jay. Tell him where she's from Mikey."

"No."

"Come on, Bender, tell me... where is the light of your life residing?"

"Fuck you, Jay. I find something that makes me happy and you guys shit all over it."

"He's right fellas, let him be, I chat with people on the net all the time."

"That's because no one in Richmond will talk to you prior to last call, Chrissie."

"FUCK THAT CHRISSIE SHIT, Jay. I told you about that. Keep it up, and I won't be talking to you AFTER last call."

"I don't invite you up to talk, baby."

"Um. Guys? Ex-husband over here. Please stop. Ew."

"Can't stand the thought of your girl taking it up the ass from the J-Hammer?

"The J-HAMMER? Jay, you are SO not getting laid tonight."

"Oh, she'll forgive me, won't you babycakes?."

"Look here, Jason. We aren't dating, and we aren't married. I fuck you because I like to fuck, and you are easily accessed. The reason I chose you and not one of these other, more intelligent gentlemen is because, frankly, "J-Hammer", it caused less waves. Brooks was my husband, and it would be unsettling to revisit that scenario. Ryan is his brother, so obviously, that one is out. Bender is, well, Bender, and it would be like taking advantage of a child. You see, much like myself, these guys don't like you that much. You are here for entertainment purposes only. I let you entertain me in other ways as well. Nonetheless, never, NEVER, interpret that to be any more than it is: cheap and simple gratification."

"Er. What about Sloey?

"I don't fuck Joe because he is Brooks' best friend outside of Ryan. Beyond that, he is my best friend as well. Does that answer your questions completely, you shit?"

"I... guess..."

"Good, because, I was a bad enough wife without Brooks being made to believe that something happened that didn't"

"OK."

"So, do you understand?"

"Yes, Chris."

"Do you ALL understand?"

All the guys at the table, even Sloey said in unison, "Yes, Chris."

All except me.

"How about you, baby? Do you believe that?"

"Yeah, Christine. I do. Always did."

"Good. Then I bid you all good night. Jay, if you come banging on my door tonight, I promise you that not only will you not be getting any, but you will likely lose that which allows you to get any. Do you comprehend my perfect English?"

"Yeah..."

"Good. You are an asshole, these guys all know it, but you will not treat me like your bitch. I am no man's bitch, Jason."

Then she was gone. Every one of us watched her all the way out the door. An angry blur of red hair and uneven temperament. God how I love her. Of course all of the other guys feel the exact same way. I was the lucky one, she still loved me back.

Pleasures and wayward distraction...

So, I have been writing, but not posting it here. This defeats the purpose. Going forward, I shall write, and post in pieces... there is no guarantee that I will use all of this stuff in the finished product, nor should this be construed as the running order of the novel.

Think of it like a film... I'm writing in disjointed pieces, and that is what you are reading.

Thanks for stopping by, I hope it is an enjoyable visit...

(Fiction pt 1) Mikey Wonkapoo and the Indie Rock Factory...

A note: a wonkapoo is a slang term for a white belt and makeup wearing, girl pantsed indie kid. This term was coined by Jay Wilson's pal Lee... I have respectfully ganked it.

____________________________________________


So last night me and the boys went down to the Border to have a drink. Explaining the Border always pisses me off, so I'll make this quick. The Border Cafe was once a very cool bar out toward the University. It was bizarre, because it had an odd mix of dishes from Wisconsin (lotsa cheese) and from Texas (lotsa spice). Anyway, I ate many meals and drank many beers there with my brother and our friends. Some bozo came along in the late 90's/early ought's and decided that it needed to be a martini bar instead.

After the miserable failure of that plan, the bar sort of reverted to an upscale bastardized version of what it once was, and while it is merely a shadow of it's former self, it is the best we have, and therefore we still drink there. Of course, the first hour of every visit is split between regaling each other with fond rememberances of the place we once loved and bitching bitterly about what it has become.

"God DAMN this place sucks"

"Drink your beer, Ry... you want a shot?"

"Will it somehow transport me back to 1994?"

"If I throw a Pavement record on, it will."

"Right, cause these tools are going to let you put in your choice of music. This ain't the Border, man, it's the BAWDAH"

"Do you want the fucking shot?"

"Sure, make it a Jager. A double."

"You paying?"

"HELL no."

"Right then, well whiskey"

Of course, I bought him the Jager. I always do, as he never fails to buy for me. So it was me, Ryan, Bender, Jay, Joe, and Christine. Ah, the perfect recipe for trouble. The breakdown is like this... Ryan is my brother, we are exactly alike. We speak twinspeak. Nobody gets us, but DAMN, we're funny. Bender is a goofy guy from the next town over that we keep around largely for comedy relief. Joe is an oddball, kind of an elder statesman punk rock version of Merle Haggard. Largely quiet, when he says something, it is usually either the most comedic or most poignant thing that you have ever heard. Jay is miserable bastard with an ill temper and a quick wit that we keep around because he hates Bender. It creates fun. Finally, Christine. Christine is my ex-wife. Sometime I'll tell that story, but not today.

"Brooks, are you going to the Animoanian show next week?"

"Bender, is that you? You don't even LISTEN to music."

"Dude, when did you become a Wonkapoo"

"Where's yer white belt?

"Kind of fat for girly pants, you want I should order you a Mick Ultra?"

"Shut the fuck up... my girlfriend burned me a comp."

"Your girlfriend. You mean that girl you met on MySpace? You ever actually TALK to her?

"Dude you just started IM'ing her, like last week. Now she's yer GIRLFRIEND?"

"Maaaaaaaaan. Could you guys stop with the cyber jargon... it's like I stepped into an episode of Geek Trek."

Joe, you see, is firmly entrenched in the 20th century. Not exactly computer illiterate, he still sees them as foreign objects with potential for causing grave harm to either himself , mankind, or both. He has learned to use the net to pick up all of the pertinent sports radio shows broadcast across America, however.

"Joe, the guy is dating a series of 0's and 1's."

"Beats the hell out of most of the bar tramps YOU chase around."

"HEY!"

"Hell, Chris, he divorced you 10 years ago, you're old news on the bar tramp circuit."

"HEY!"

"I'm beginning to see why, too... terrible vocabulary."

"This from the guy who's last date was around the time of Brooks' divorce."

"Shh... he's sitting right there."

There's this running joke that Joe caused mine and Christine's divorce. Utterly untrue (I think) but nonetheless disturbing, which is why Jay never fails to mention it. Jay is currently banging Christine, he thinks the Joe joke somehow distracts me from this fact. In all actuality, I've known since before it happened, Christine tells me everything. Sometimes I wish she wouldn't.

"So, Brooks, you cuckolded bastard... the show, you going?

"Which show was that?"

"Anamoananon"

"What?"

"Anomanoan, you deaf fuck."

"I'm not deaf, I just like to hear you struggle with the name. It's Anomoanon, Bender. I don't pay to see bands A) whose names I have to practice regularly or B) who require me to wear a uniform for entrance to the show."

"Elitist."

"Faux-wonkapoo."

"Somebody's boring me. I think it's me. "

It isn't writer's block if you aren't even trying.

My early zeal for the writing has all but faded into a mist of apathy and antipathy. Much has happened over the last week or so. Largely, the events are a menagerie of misunderstandings and misinterpretations of peoples comments. This means,of course, that I had little to do with it. Now,don't get me wrong, I am capable of causing such shifts in the tenuous faultline that is my life. I am constantly saying the wrong thing, drinking in the wrong place, and that sort of thing. Still... this time was different.

This time, it is though the events gained corpreal selves, breathed air, and conspired to plot against me. There was no battle, there was no war, only a sudden awareness that I had lost.

"A Word to the Wise is Infuriating"

Hunter Thompson is dead.

The effect that the good Doctor had on my life is immeasurable. It is likely that without Hunter, I would be a college graduate, in a good position with a good company, have a happy marriage, and essentially be an entirely different person.

I would also undoubtedly be a more boring, less creative person.

I read Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas in my sophomore year in college. I was never the same. Many people point to On the Road as their "crossroads" book. I liked Kerouac as much as the next guy, but Thompson was REAL. Terrifyingly so.

If I am sorry for anything, it is that Hunter Thompson is going to be remembered in the way that he was portrayed by Johnny Depp in the Terry Gilliam film version of F & L. Now Depp did a fine job, and I'm a fan of the film. Nonetheless, it leaves the impression that Thompson was some sort of cartoon. Hunter Thompson was a character, but he was no caricature.

The world stopped spinning yesterday for a brief moment, and someone got off. We are all a bit diminished for his leaving.

Goodbye, Doc. See you in hell.

Hooray..

I have a premise for the novel... I will share at some point, but I am just pleased to have an idea. To be fair, it is essentially the premise for the screenplay that I wrote a while back, but I have a nice twist in mind. Furthermore, why should all of the good dialogue be in films?

God damn it... time to storm the prose world and conquer it.

... mmmm false confidence...

On the blog name...

I was stuck. What was I to do? I had to name the damn thing and nothing was coming to me.

For me, these days, the internet is largely a silent experience. On my old desktop, I had a ton of mp3's and a winamp player that never stopped. Now, with my laptop, I can do other things while I type. I have the winamp and a few mp3s, but nothing near the old days. Moreover, I can now sit in the same room as my stereo, but oddly, I rarely turn it on while tickety tackety-ing on this thing.

This is an odd dichotomy for person for whom music is (generally) inseparable from life. I normally have to have something playing all of the time. This is possibly a reaction to the bombardment I take from various media everyday. Given my job(s) I have to have some sort of blather going on in the background at all times. It becomes tiresome. I suspect that I will come back around to the old days of posting and listening, but for now, I enjoy the solitude and silence.

early morning sounds

I both love and despise the early morning hours between, say, 1 and 4 am. It is a time of calm, if one is not winding up a last call and seeking post last call company. I love that part of it, but the silence breeds discontent. Should I play a record? Should I sleep? Should I drink? Do I want to mindlessly chat on the internet with friends. Should I write?

Should I write?

Well, of course, that is the answer. I certainly should. I don't, though. Not normally. I waste my time with the myriad toys in my apartment fiddling with this, watching that, listening to this, type-type-typing that.

Now, I think that I will sleep.

Damn habits...

The beginning of the end...

Needing an outlet to write, and tiring of the high-schoolishness of LJ (I AM an old guy, after all), I shall try this format...