Tuesday's Squirmen

Good Tuesday fine flock! Yea, the Lard's day is back upon us. I have been wondering what this week's squirmen will be about, and after much contemplation I was still undecided. That is, until I just read sister Lucy's new blog. Sister Lucy has a pair of passive aggressive neighbors that are pushing her compassion to the bursting point. So that brings us to today's subject: Stupid Fuckers Who Just Take Take Take (SFWJTTT). (Pronounced sfidgets.)

What is a good Lard loving person to do when confronted with a sfidget? Here I think we have an intersection of parables and a contradiction of commandments. On the one hand, we have the cheek turning doctrine, i.e. when someone smacks you in the face, give them a fresh new pile of face flesh to pound. This path probably is the best for the soul, but it pretty much sucks ass for the body and society.

Realistically, if there isn't some greater pressure or force to make the Sfidgets stop, then they will keep on hitting/taking/putting you on the back of the bus/ dragging you behind trucks and tying you to barbed wire/ invading Czechoslovakia and committing genocide. Which brings us to the contradiction. The Lard helps them that helps themselves, right? Laying down (see the French circa WWII) and hoping things won't be that bad is just not going to cut it with a sfidget. Nope, Sfidgets must be smacked, verbally or physically.

But do we abandon the compassion? Nay I say. Practice compassion with everyone and never pre-assume they are a sfidget! But keep your eyes open flock. Look for telltale sfidget signs. And remember, once you've spotted a sfidget, never trust them again. But what if you think YOU are a sfidget? Ah, well, that is a squirmen for another day.

Till next week my sweets! Keep the Lard in your hearts.

I Love Westerns

Without irony, I love Westerns. I love the heroes and the anti-heroes. The dissociative psycho-freaks who observe danger with a disinterested calm and a steady hand. Sometimes they mingle their psychosis with morality, sometimes not. But I'm always riveted. This is probably because my personal reaction to danger, when it suddenly springs up, is to run. Or fall. Literally.

Ask L.B. If I get suddenly startled by a movie, my feet come to life. If I am sitting or lying down this is pretty comical to those around me, because they just start going. Only the feet mind you, not the legs. Sometimes they go for up to five seconds. But as I mentioned, it isn't like my whole body springs into a flight response. That would be kind of cool in an inherently cowardly way. But, it is only the feet. Thus, if I happen to be startled while standing, I end up Flat. On. My. Back. Again, this is probably comical to those around me. Sadly, it is another one of my instinctual responses which are counterproductive (like my getting dizzy around ledges...how did my ancestors survive?) So when I see the dissociative cowboy standing calm while bullets are flying, I can't help but stare.

Off the top of my head, here are a few of my favorite Westerns in case anyone is interested. Please let me know if you have any particular favorites that I should see!

The Gunfighter (Gregory Peck....I love him in everything.....this movie was mentioned prominently in Bob Dylan's "Brownsville Girl"....both the song and movie are incredible.)

Django (Franco Nero.....spaghetti has never tasted so good.....the Italians saved the genre after the 50's tried to strangle it....the soundtrack echoes the on screen action) (*also see Keoma)

Dead Man (Johnny Depp in a Jarmusch film? Too cool!)

Terror in a Texas Town (Greatest ending duel of all time...and it doesn't involve a gun.)

Wild Bunch (IMHO Sam Peckinpah single handedly stole back U.S. bragging rights for the Western. Anti-heroes were never better.)

All the Sergio Leone classics (The Good the Bad and the Ugly.....etc.....I love Lee Van Cleef and Clint Eastwood....combined with the direction and the music?.....OMG!)

Zillions more....

Healthy Hate?

An interesting-to-me thing came up last night in conversation with L.B. Trix and G.Love. Oddly, it had nothing to do with L.B.'s birthday, which was fabulous BTW. No, it was about Disneyland.

They love it. I hate it. Have I been there? No. Did I want to go? No.

Confronted, I was forced to re-evaluate my lifelong hatred for Disney. This isn't a hatred that had anything to do with Eisner or megacorp megasquishing. I like Starbucks for fuck's sake. No, this went back to being a kid. Maybe I just wanted to be a bad ass/different back then. Anyway, I realized with dismay that another one of my quirky dislikes was about to tumble before the face of reason. (This was only the latest in a long line of begrudgingly-admitted things I used to despise that are actually kinda, um, cool I guess. *Coughelviscostello.) Damnit.

But don't we need enemies in life (*he said desperately), especially when they are for all intents and purposes theoretical? Here I think, is a healthy outlet! Rather than hating my actual neighbor I choose to hate Disney, karyoke and musicals. Isn't it better to hate the Yankees than New Yorkers? Honestly, when will I encounter Alex Rodriguez in real life? Never! Healthly hate outlets. But I know it is no use. It just isn't a reasonable hatred.

So fine, I guess I wont call Mickey Mouse the oversized devil rat anymore. I will go to the magic kingdom and have a good time without cynacism. I will I will I will.

Poly peeps

I forget sometimes that other people are interested in non-monogomy/polyamory/other crappy terms I hate.

I forget that some people live in areas where this is shameful. (*practically everywhere)

I can honestly say it was easier for me to tell my parents that I like to sleep with boys than it was to tell them I am non-monogomous.

So anyway, this post isn't going to be witty or anything like that. Rather, it is meant to merely say that there are normal people out there who love each other VERY MUCH, and are totally committed to each other, and who choose to be non-monogomous. It can be done. But it is hard.

So my poly peeps, take heart, you are not alone. But please don't become poly to breathe life into a dying marriage....like babies, it doesn't fix anything. Also, don't become poly to secretly search for the next person you want to be monogomous with. Grrrr. I only recommend it to people who are in love and want to stay together forever. Without that, it is just too hard. If you aren't in love, then don't go poly. Break up or stay together, but don't go poly.

This post is an open invitation for people having a hard time with this stuff to ask about my tribulations....seek advice.....sympathy....or whatever.

Meme Slapback

I've been tagged with my own meme. In the interest of full disclosure I should mention that I'm am listening to late era Tom Waits on headphones while doing this and physically wiped from out of shape tennis with my uncle. Well, actually I'm listening to iTunes on shuffle, so now it is very early Tom Waits. "Times were never this good....got a fly for food".....kinda cool song, its called "Rockin' Chair." Anyway, I procrastinate. On to the meme! Shit, Zappa just came on.

Four First Names of Crushes I’ve Had (I will not name current crushes)
1. Catherine (we will speak no more of this.)
2. Cindy (3rd grade....her tube top, my eyes.....I remember sitting in my aunt's trailer behind our run down rented house eating ritz crackers with peanut butter and wondering whether we were married in a past life.)......now Neil Young is playing......
3. Damion (it was all for him....)
4. Mike (my first boy crush....I didn't realize what it was at the time.)

Four Pieces of Clothing I wish I still owned
1. Ratty pair of oversized jungle boots I pilfered from my grandparent's storage bin long ago....they used to be my uncles.
2. (*now Wilco is playing) Grey t-shirt I pilfered from Catherine after the first night I spent at her house. I like girl t-shirts, they are cut a little sexier.
3. Pair of hippy pants made by my friend Barbara.
4. I can't think of a fourth.....I'm more about losing my clothes.....

Four names I’ve been called at one time or another
1. Miss (I had a full red beard at the time....very surreal moment.)
2. Woomaster
3. Big Stud
4. Evil G.B.

Four Professions I secretly Want to Try (*Tom Waits is back.)
1. Spy, no doubt about it. Triple agent preferrably.
2. Corporate Director.
3. Firefighter.
4. Gangster.

Four Musicians I'd Like To Go on a Date with
1. Neil Young (any age). Not that I think he is into boys. But I think it'd be cool to shoot cans and shit on his farm and smoke some grass. My kind of date.
2. Tom Waits mid 70's. He always wears really nice shoes. We'd probably shoot some pool. If he was drunk enough, he might not realize that I'm a man. It would probably end badly, but that's alright.
3. Janis Joplin (when she was alive, I'm not sick)....I saw some documentary recently about some trainload of musicians going to a show in Canada, and she looked like she was having the best time. Boozin and singin....awesome.
4. Ani Difranco. Yum.

Four Foods I’d rather Throw than Eat
1. Asparagus spears.
2. Mushrooms.
3. Liver.
4. Pickled anything....

Four Things I Like to Sniff
1. Places where limbs intersect with trunks
2. (*Zappa is back) Redwoods
3. Sea air.
4. Sticky bud.

Four People to Tag:
1. Gill Smoke
2. Gretty
3. Crse
4. normtasia

cherry poppin' meme

L.B. Tagged me with this. I secretly love this stuff. My first meme....be gentle!

Four Things Meme

Four Jobs I've Had:
1) Short bus driver managing team of developmentally disabled adults in high security clearance missile making plant. We picked up recycling.
2) Tennis instructor. Not close to pro, but helped teach the kids and fed balls to adults.
3) Massage Therapist for one public session. Touching people for money turned out to be eeew.
4) Lawyer. Tee hee.

Four Places I Have Lived:
1) San Francisco....Mission District.....19th and Capp.....gangs, 5 dollar sweat pants hookers, fire engines, swat teams, crack, heroin, urine, great friends.
2) Tucson Arizona.....missile plants, saquaros, music, no L.B....
3) Boston.....blizzards and baseball.
4) Guernville, CA....redwoods, river, gays, porches, friends....lots of good good stuff.

Four Favorite Foods:
1) French fries. Forever and ever amen.
2) All Mexican food.
3) Indian food, especially Kormas....anything at Indian Oven in S.F., but especially the Paneer Tikka Korma. Oh god.
4) Skycat's meal du jour. She is the most fabulous cook.

Four Places I’d Rather Be:
1) Anywhere with L.B.
2) Assuming L.B. is there, then with you!
3) Assuming we are all there, then camping with a nice fire, beer and some singing.
4) Assuming we are all there, then some coastal vacation house with a hot tub, lots of booze and dancing.

Four Movies I Can Watch Over and Over
1) Pecker.
2) The Gunfighter.
3) Primer.
4) Me and L.B.'s wedding video.

Four TV Shows I Like To Watch
1) Buffy/Angel/Firefly....any Whedon....
2) Flight of the Conchords.
3) Curb Your Enthusiasm....
4) Deadwood

Four Websites I View Daily
1) Fantasy Baseball....
2) Blogs, lots of blogs....
3) Limewire....
4) Craigslist....

Four Computers I Have Owned
1) Vic 20
2) Commodore 64
3) Crappy ass Dell laptops.
4) Abacus.

Four People To Tag: Trixie, Margie, Crse, Crawlspace

Here is an alternate 4 to my taggees. I don't know if you've already done this one or not, so I'll give you an alternative.....

Four First Names of Crushes I've Had

Four Pieces of Clothing I wish I still owned

Four names I've been called at one time or another

Four Professions I secretly Want to Try

Four Musicians I'd most want to go on a date with

Four Foods I'd rather Throw than Eat

Four Things I Like to Sniff

Four People to Tag:

SFIPOA

Hear ye hear ye. I have decided that Tuesdays are going to be sermon days. I was moved by Gretty's and Crse's Tuesday Twelves. The thankful posts of said sisters have put me in a prosthelitizing mood. Verily and yea. I realize now that the good Lard has shown the benevolence to grease my brain skids and spread a little of Hisser (pronounced his-her, do not be frightened by serpent similarities!) wisdom. The subject of today's sermon: stupid fuckers in positions of authority.

What exactly is a SFIPOA? We've all encountered them. The poor souls, bless their hearts, who have been promoted due their ability to follow the rules punctiliously. Give them a checklist and these single celled wonders show a remarkable ability to excell. But what happens when they get promoted? Real life, in all its facets starts to creep up on them! Things, infernal things, non-checklist things begin to appear. And they have to make decisions, impossible decisions. Can you imagine their terror, brothers and sisters, when they have to try and contort a non-checklist item into a checklist item? The process typically goes like this: 1) Um, this isn't on my list; 2) Okay, I think I understand what you said, but this isn't on my list; 3) Ok, yes, but you've got to understand this isn't on my list; 4) Well, I'm going to need to see some proof that this should be on my list.

The list, brothers and sisters, was not created by the Lard hisself. Nay. The list was created by the person, the good American capitalist, who started the business in the first place. That person understood the reason behind the list. The list was a broad tool to achieve goals. The list was not an end result. But what is a stupid fucker in a position of authority to do? They don't understand the reason behind the list. They barely understand which end of a fork to use. So try compassion. Put yourself in the gel-insert shoes of the SFIPOA. Think, but for the grease of Lard, that could be me. And then kill them.

AFS

I think I have the opposite of OCD. L.B. just told me about a classic anxiety dream she had last night. Back to my non-OCD. What do they call it when you focus on something just long enough to get good at it, then run off for some new interesting project? It isn't attention deficit, because I'm very very focused when I'm focusing. It isn't a mid-life crisis because I've always done it. I'd like to call it an artistic temperment, but that is just bullshit because the real artists I know are extremely dedicated people. I think the only word to adequately describe it is flake. I might have Astute Flake Syndrome.

Beauty, what the fuck is it?

So L.B. and I got a beautiful apartment in Long Beach today (just a few minor details to go)....and on the drive back up from Long Beach we saw the most amazing sunset. We just turned the corner around Ventura to Carpentenia, that spot where 101 suddenly meets the coast. Anyway, the whole postcard worthy scene was there before us, and there was absolutely no denying it, it was freakin beautiful. But later on it got me wondering about it a little bit (cause the drive is a little long)... why should that be beautiful when a something else is not? Note: I refrained from conjuring up some disgusting image because , well, I don't know why. Anyway, do you know what I mean? Is it hard wired somewhere to respond to expansive ocean and sunset purple orange clouds? Or is it something we've been taught to think is beautiful? If it's hard wired, why is it hard wired? What possible evolutionary benefit could be found in pastels?

A four star blog

That's right, coming to you from the heart of the Long Beach Hilton.

Ok, first a moment of bitching. Just a little, I have to. Why is it that hotels like the Hilton try and charge you for every little thing, when they are already taking a big chunk of money from you for the room? Like internet access for example. Why do we have to pay 10$ to have internet access here, when at all the cheap and moderately cheap hotels we stayed at gave you access for free? So we pay the 10 bucks and get a password. But when both LB and I try and sign in at the same time the connection is endlessly interrupted by annoying windows urging us to logout. Once I finish swearing I need some water. For only five dollars I could crack open the Evian placed temptingly near the window. No no, I will district my thirst with some TV. But then they only have like eight channels, in a patheticly transparent attempt to get me to rent Ocean's 13 for only 12$. Did I mention we have to pay 16$ to park our car overnight in their garage? And our first room had a goddamn roach in it. Give me a nice La Quinta anyday.

Okay, I feel better. Sorry about the bitching.

Shaking it off....

So Long Beach! I think this area is going to rule. The apartments are cheaper than Boston or San Francisco, and you can get a place right near the beach for the same price as a lean-to in the aforementioned cities. Lots of diversity, in skin pignment and sexuality. My kind of place.

California and Boston Love

Things I love about California

1. Polite people. I don't care if they are not sincere in their hearts. All I know is that when the toll booth people take my money, they say thank you and smile. In New England they take your money, say nothing, and look at you in a way that says "drive away retahd cocksucka". How do they always know?

2. Queers queers queers! They are flambouyant and obvious and plentiful. You see, my problem is that I have no gaydar. Unless the wrists are flapping up a breeze and the lisps are leaving spittle drops in my ears, I have no clue! It wasn't that there weren't gays in Boston, I just couldn't distinguish them from anyone else.

3. Milk and honey, see land of. See queers.

4. Sunshine and temperate weather. I can go run around outside again! I don't even have to think about stifling humidity or nut crunching cold. Maybe a little rain. Or is that just my tears of joy?

5. The coastline, the redwoods, the Sierras, the joshua trees and the manzanitas. Where else does the geography change so dramatically and beautifully so fast? Maybe Utah, but it doesn't have the coast.

6. Mexican food. Hell, food in general. But especially the magic bean rice and meat combinations that endlessly please me.

7. A certain un-named couple who better not go to Texas.

8. Bill Murray. Okay, so he isn't strictly California, but I love him so.

Things I miss about Boston

1. Jason. Squirrel. Bad Idea/Inconvenient Jew. Iron Butterfly/Dirty Martini. The Gimlet. Achingly I miss them. Why can't they be in California?

2. The Indian Buffets. Oh god yes.

3. The thrift stores. People dress nice there, and give away nice things. I can't believe the things I scored there.

4. My TV. My big heavy manly HD TV. Sigh.

5. The Red Sox. I will be a fan for life, but I miss the city's throb of baseball obsession.

6. Summer barbeques. Nobody does em like Jason. Margeritas that could tranquilize a horse. Tequila shots. The best chicken you'll ever have. Corn from J.P. and herbs from Bad Idea's garden.

7. Bumper pool.....

Okay....this is making me too misty. Gotta roll.

Lip Flapping

So I read a blog. This was kind of a big deal for me. In fact, I've started reading multiple blogs. This is fun. You people are seriously entertaining, smart and funny. Why did I resist so long?

Anyway, it has inspired me to foray into the world of confessional/non-poemesque postage! I'm not sure how to do this, or what it really means, but I'm definitely inspired by all you brilliant bloggers. For the record, I can suck down as well. It defies gravity.

First and foremost on my mind is the mind boggling hospitality of G-Love and Trixie! Thank you guys soooooo much for a wonderful weekend. Words cannot describe what a great time I had, and my future political aspirations caution me against any further details. Woot.

I have to also give a shout out to the fake plant for graciously moving.....to B-pal for adding another layer to the sensory cake.....to hand made tortillas......to White Russians......to blackberries......to the coolest hippest sexiest buzz on the planet.....and most definitely to buffets.

I have to give a distinct anti-shout out to Wasabi hand cream. That shit should come with a bright orange warning label.

Oh, and go OSU! OH-IO.

big love to you peeps

Hark fine and feather fold, the ancient easy likeness bold. Why not try the special today, the flaming fish and the moral decay? Ease down the wheel, the spike and the squeel, almost easy if you don't mind the feel of the crunch and the munch of the bones beneath your heels.

Have it your way he cried, spun around stepped aside, my bride is fine the time is nigh, so fuck all you fucks if you don't want to try.

Hold that feeling, that titter-girl squeeling, grab it's tail now the fucker is fleeting, but don't be surprised when your heart starts a beating.

Open your vest to the cavernous chest, where you only allow the best to invest. I'm not picky, he said with a lie, but that doesn't mean I won't give it a try. Ease down the wheel, the spike and the squeel, don't stop, don't stop, you're starting to feel.

O.C. thee and me III

Overfed underfound
Seven feet underground
Heaven bent trouble bound
Only make simple sounds.

O.C. thee and me II

"Taser this"
He cried with a howl,
Hiding the score
In his plasticine jowls

O.C. thee and me

Tabloid tittie flash
Popping eyes and scoops
Flesh piles modulate
To old wolf whistle loops.

Wife love

Best wife ever
Rocks!

hospitalicas

Tuber locomotis
Los combustos negligos
Have a bind and white wine spritzer
Mein sticky stein.

Table salt
Unmitigated gall
Tabula rasa
Mi casa su casa fugzaa.

Spanish intermediary
orbits and meteors (courtesty of lucky buzz)

Place Settings

Virile tag team spandex
High Fives a flyin
Stones heating where I just took a beating.

Personalize and sensationalize
the wicked bills come flapping
like all that jazzersize
And falcons on my well wrapped wrist.

Hair teasing and minds easing
All four limbs pressed along the well walls
Lichen on my palms
Air slowly cooling.

Beelzebub in a clawfoot bathtub
Rubs above and rubs below
The air is slowly cooling
And my words are dying slow.