uggh... a day

Anyone get the name of that truck? It's taken me 4 hours to actually wake up today. I was moving, communicating, doing work. but I don't think I was really there. I felt like crap and felt like I was moving through a haze. No, I didn't drink last night, so the truck wasn't labeled Crown Royal or anything.

I'm not really sure what I'm writing about today. Feels like a snippets kind of day.

The two kids that live next to me are so cute, with gas prices on the rise, they commute together in one car. Awww... Here is the weird thing though. They've been married for just 10 months. I don't see them as 'in love'. You know when you see two people together that just seem to be together. I wonder if they both just settled since they dated for long enough. They don't play word games, they don't touch each other, no lingering looks from across the room. I find it oddly unsettling.

I miss blogland, but it's impossible to go back to the way it was. It's almost like I used up all my words sometimes. It's not writers block. But the funny stuff doesn't come to play so much anymore. And the other kinds of writing that brought people here. Of course, I don't read and comment on a lot of blogs anymore. I seem to have too many time constraints. I just wanted to mention that just because I'm not there everyday doesn't mean my thoughts aren't.

I wish it would rain today so I could go get ice cream. We did that when I as a little kid. It would rain and my mother would trundle us into the car for a trip to Dairy Queen or B&G Milkyway. (Home to the largest ice cream cone I've ever seen in softserve). I'm thinking about a nice twist cone with crushed nuts rolled or sprinkled on the outside. A nice salty contrast to the sweet cream in the cone. *sigh*

Shadow fulfillment

Did you ever get so caught up in trying that you forgot your goal? You grasp the water so tight in your fist that it all squeezes out and you end up thinking your hand is empty. We quickly forget the sensation of warmth and clean the water brought. Perhaps the crisp smell in the air along with it. The wonderful gurgle it made on it's journey.

Sundays suck the worst

Were you ever a paperboy? I was. I did it for longer than I care to admit. My first real job. I learned a lot about human character delivering papers. Being out while the city sleeps in an interesting thing. Having access keys to buildings you couldn't get inside with an engraved invitation otherwise. Seeing the seedy side of things at the same time. My route ended at a diner called the Nickel Plate. I doubt it's still there anymore, but it was on the edge of downtown in my city. The gay bar across the street (I didn't find out it was a gay bar until I was in high school). The jewelry store where everyone with real scratch got their jewelry. None of that Zales shit for those people. I'd guess I grew up more of K-mart kinda gems guy. Then again, that was probably beyond the scope of the Munkey family wallet too. I knew pawn shops all ever town. I knew how to mark an item so you could identify if you were really getting your stuff back later. (Not so much.)

The week in my life then had good days that slowly grew worse. Monday was the best. Nothing happens on Sundays. Seriously. The Monday paper in my city was lucky to reach 26 pages. THey threw nice. I learned to hit the squirrels from behind (ok, i'm kidding, they run too fast. It's like they hear it coming.) Wednesday's are truly hump day. Not because the heavy news hits on Tuesday, but Wednesday is Ad day. Then your back could go back to normal for a couple days. Saturdays are heavy with Friday night drunk accidents and houses burning down.

Sunday is the true bitch in the news paper boy's week. Sunday will whip your ass like a drunk father coming at you with a brass buckle belt in his hand. Two bags, a wagon were no guarantee that you could haul all the papers. That bitch goes 120 pages minimum plus Parade, Comics and all the advertising the salesmen could whore out. It probably weighs about 3 pounds maybe 5. It's gonna break your back. For what? A dollar a subscription? I don't recall the numbers. I doubt they were that high. I had over 130 papers on my route. Sometimes I missed school because I slept late. I didn't care.

I learned about people's nature from the people that wouldn't pay. I hated doing my route at night the most. Doing your route at night doesn't mean delivering papers. It means "Collect." One woman in particular. She always came to the door half naked. She worked at the local TV station. I think I saw my first glimpse of hair trying to collect from her. It's not like the paper cost a lot either. $9 if memory serves. I don't recall all her excuses. "I forgot my checkbook at the station..." (a block away). On and on. I ran collect three days a month to catch people at home. After 3 months of non-payment ($27 bucks that came from my pocket) I quit delivering her paper.

Everyday, I would get a call from Subs. So and so didn't get their paper. They called to complain. For some reason, the complaint record was very important to the newspaper. I was an independent contractor and my actions apparently reflected poorly on the paper at large. Every day I would tell my route supervisor that she was a deadbeat and I wasn't delivering. He insisted. I told him to add one paper to my subs and not charge me for it then. Can't do that. I can't deliver her paper either. He was pissed because he had to go deliver it himself. After about 3 weeks she finally called me and told me to come and get a check. You'd think I killed her fucking cat the look she gave me. I was a kid, but I wasn't stupid.

How does someone fuck over a kid trying to make a buck? I shoveled these peoples sidewalks in the winter too. More backbreaking work. Like Sunday papers times two or three when the snow was really coming down. Three bucks? They looked indignant when you asked. The snow is a foot deep. It would take 3 hours to clear these freaking sidewalks on a big hill up to the house. In retrospect, they were paying me to shovel snow so I could deliver the paper. I should have held the papers hostage. $25 to clean the sidewalk or I'm not delivering your paper 'til the snow is gone. My and brother were the only ones who did it. They would have been screwed. Lesson learned. Get what you can while you can. It doesn't come around twice does it?

jot it down...

I have a nice stack of crisp journals with beautiful leather covers and fine paper inside. I never write in any of them. They are all gifts. The only notebooks I buy are little Moleskin's. I'm not sure why everyone gives me these journals as gifts. I imagine they must think I have something to say. Something that perhaps I'm not willing to share with them. Hmmm... Yep.

Moving on.

On another note, one reader of this blog is astonished how I can share so many intimate details of my life. I contemplate that thought and wonder what they are talking about. The reality is, for all the 'data' being shared here, there is another 100 GB sitting in my brian pan dying to get out. I simply cannot type that fast. I've tried. At one point, I was up to about 100 words per minute. Seriously, THAT is crazy. It's not worth it people. Glad you came to visit, but the idea that you are all caught up in the dripping from my mental crockpot blows my mind. (Of course, I'm not talking to YOU. You are just here to see the daily drivel (If I've posted that is.))

Perhaps I should pick out one of the sacred journal books from the stack and go forth and conquer my mind with it. I could write about how stoned I'm not and other various things wrong with my psyche. I could even tell some of the truth. Inquiring minds want to know.

The Rolling Stone Interview

Note: This is not a MEME - if you are too lazy to write your own shit, don't start by copying mine.

You're known for your gastronomic delights, how did that happen?

Well, I found out I didn't like Hummus, after that, pretty much everything else fell in to line.

Anything in particular you wish you'd found at a younger age?

Brie. I could definitely live on brie and bread.

What's the most memorable thing any woman ever said to you?

That's a tough one. I know you are fishing for sex, so I'll say, 'Are ever going to fuck me or what?'

OK - so take the sex out of the question...

My mother calling me gay when I was like 16.

You are kidding right?

No, I wanted this neon aqua camp shirt and we had quite an argument about it. 'That's a gay [homosexual] color.' When I came home with the shirt, she said, "So, that's your color now?" I recall just closing the door in her face.

What's the worst thing you've ever done to another person?

Psychologically? Telling a woman I didn't love her anymore when I never did. In my defense, I told her from the beginning that it wasn't emotional for me.

What's your biggest regret?

My birth.

You are a pretty blunt person, does that ever get you into trouble?

All the time. As a whole, people are not really trained to hear the truth. Everyone just wants everything to sound nice. They beat around the bush 'til the thing is dead. Then, like a sadist, they beat it.

That's pretty strong.

Look, we can all be angels in our minds, but the sad reality is that most of us are assholes. It's not like we try to be, it's just the way we are. We'd be better if we knew how to be, but there is only so much sugar in the world. It's spread a little thin.

You mentioned sad, what's the saddest thing you've ever seen?

A $1200 T-shirt in a store. We have huge education problems in our country and people spend $1200 to get some pussy. How much is it worth to open a child's mind? Our society has such fucked up values. There are gifted kids that are sitting in trailer parks because of parents who just happen to be Jerry Springer rejects. The people that could get them out of there are too busy living their own fantasy that they forget to give back.

The Steve Job's and the Bill Gateses give plenty back.

I'm not talking about them. Steve Jobs has 200 of the same long sleeve T-shirt/Sweater in his closet. He wears jeans and sandals to work everyday. I always wonder why that work ethic doesn't spread. It obviously works.

What's the best compliment you've gotten this year?

You look like a Rock Star. I went to a friends B-day party. She said that when she saw me. I almost swooned. I Rock Star I am not.

Yet, some would say you live a jet set lifestyle.

Well, you win a few, you lose a few. A few years ago I made myself a promise to never say someday... "I wish I had..." I try really hard to follow through with that goal.

If you could pass out one piece of advice and actually make it stick, what would it be?

Kindness is free. It's also priceless. Pass it out to everyone you meet.

Last question. So what does it feel like to be dying and not tell anyone?

Well, you know, like Jack Nickolsen said in that movie after that B-rated guy said about his mother, 'She's on her way out.' "We all are. Live accordingly."

Thank you for being so candid.

No, thank you.

- An except from 'An Interview with My Dog'.