These guys got pissed and walked away when I suggested, flatly, that they looked like commies....

No job havin' blues...

I'm about 3 days away from writing my very own country song...this is madness. Could my luck be any better? 6 months of drama and alpha male egotistically b.s. from a marine crazed boss and I get laid off 2 weeks before insurance begins.....
Anyway, I guess I'll just count my blessings for what they are. The job wasn't great and the pay was only decent. So yeah, I'll be glad that I have the opportunity to find something else more suited to me. Problem is, we are going to through what most people call a "recession". What am I supposed to do with that? If I have to put one more application in I'll start chokin' people. Two at a time. One in each hand.
So like I said, I am this close to sitting at the kitchen table with a bottle of black label and a pen and paper. Then again I guess I just have to hope something will come up. Everything will work out. It has to.

Guy Ritchie has risen from the gallows

I've been counting the days for the boring Halloween holiday to arrive. It seems most times there isn't anything really exciting to do on Halloween anymore. A real holiday for the kids. The irony is I am still afflicted with shame as I don't have anything real to do on a holiday. Don't know why. It's sick really, but it seems embarrassing and introverted to sit at home and watch TV for any holiday. At the very least a good few drinks at the local dive should suffice. It would be fine if my pockets weren't in the dire straights at the moment.
So my Dama and I tossed around the idea of going to Hollywierd for a parade. We made it as far as a semi-decent rice bowl restaurant called Flame Broiler. It wasn't memorable to say the least, but it did feed the beast. I guess the idea of driving forty-five minutes to Hollywood and more than likely an hour and a half back home didn't really hold sway. Especially if the afore mentioned parade has the ever possibility to be entirely homosexual.
By the time we made it home we decided to catch a double feature. I was in kind of a zombie mode to tell you the truth. I knew we had to do something, but honestly the clouds rolled over my head and I simply could not dodge them. A regular thunderstorm. There wasn't anything that could have sounded fun just shy of a beer and even then I would have had to be slapped to attention. We went to a movie.
There's something to be said for simple horror movies. Saw V is exactly that. Simple. It's probably the best way to put it. The only character to be truly developed is the Jigsaw killer. The gore is awesome and the twists are surprisingly catchy, but seriously Saw V? Really? How many times can you make a movie about a straight up serial killer who plays games and has no ending what so ever. I don't get it except to say maybe we are like the Romans in the arena. We need blood and violence and the Saw series fills the void. I'm not ashamed to have seen this movie. To tell you the truth this horse trollop of a movie wasn't bad. Also it makes my girlfriend happy to see all forms of horror films and as the old saying goes, "If she's happy, then I'm happy." She was so I am.
The second feature of which we helped our selves to a nice sneak and view was RocknRolla. I was already excited and anticipating this film when we went in to see Saw V. I was a little groggy from the last one mostly because I was laying down and casually watching. So we get into the theatre room after a long intermission ( Bathroom breaks). Right off the bat the intro begins with a narrator introducing the film. 30 seconds in BOOM the hard rock music starts and the title rolls in. I know it's an awesome movie. I know Guy Ritchie has done it again. This movie had it all from plot twists to comedy to the ever popular cockney wit. It even had the right amount of action. I loved it. Truth be told I've been pretty disappointed with Ritchies last film, Revolver. It was just lackluster. I made myself watch it after 10 minutes. With RocknRolla, it was a trip right back to Lock Stock and Snatch. Maybe he's a one trick pony, but I gotta say that one trick is awesome. It's inspiring. I was inspired to come home directly and write this very blog because we both sat through this great film.
I woke up immediately and sat wide eyed the entire time. It was well written, well scripted and well acted. So in the end, the damning effects of a gloomy holiday were shaken off with a jolt. I'm home now and it's 10p as I'm writing this and I feel better. I probably sound geeky or even down right boring, but we both had a good time and it was well worth it.

Vivo Para Su Amor

How I long for her touch
So sweet and E'er encompacing
Tis' saddening to know such
hesitation, such fear

Her hand trembles
inches from mine own
To take gaze of her eyes
those entrancing gems

One would know the nights cold, dark
raging imprisonment
To touch her heart and feel a childs longing
for freedom and innocence
it's almost most too much to bear with my own soul

How I long for a moment in her truest nature
a scared girl protected by anger, so tough and weary
of the next to bring pain, abandon and abuse

Who is this who holds me captive?
What will make her whole again?
What gives her strength to dare to love and be merry?

To know a comfort known only as a baby in it's
mothers arms would
So many souls crossed, so little direction
It is but a mere dream,

How I long to be the protector, to hold her in safety
to watch the world change, grass grow
people come and go
All the while never letting go of her hand
All that I know and love would be nothing if not even for
the soft smile from my love

Into My Own

One of my wishes is that those dark trees, So old and firm they scarcely show the breeze, Were not, as 'twere, the merest mask of gloom, But stretched away unto th eedge of doom.

I should not be withheld but that some day into their vastness I should steal away, Fearless of ever finding open land, or highway where the slow wheel pours the sand.

I do not see why I should e'er turn back, Or those should not set forth upon my track To overtake me, who should miss me here And long to know if still I held them dear.

They would not find me changed from him the knew--Only more sure of all I though was true.

- Frost

Who gives a kudo

Do you ever have one of those moments when you realize that you are actually working harder or just plain ol' trying simply to have someone tell you that you've done well? Why do we do that? Most people say we are dependent, even fewer people are completely independent yet we still see sooo many people striving so hard for those material items or status. I admit when I was in high school I was on this big kick about being independent and non-materialistic. A simplest. Believe it or not, I would describe myself as a simplest. Ha. It's interesting to see ourselves change over the years. I think I've gone from being a very critical judge of all things around me to completely letting all go and seeing that life will rotate as it needs to and when it needs to. Buddhism and meditation helped with that post high school transition.
Finally I'd say I can describe myself as dependent in a more natural way. Chalk it up to maturity. I couldn't say for sure, but I simply know there are things I need to sleep well. I need to at least hear that I've done well, I need her that I am safe, Food and drink, and most of all I need my Dama.
It's funny because she is always asking me if I think about her or whether or not I miss her. The truth is, I am my father's son. Although I think it's hard for most men to show feelings I simply forget that I am selfish in the sense that I rest easy knowing that I am safe and loved. I've always thought of myself emotional and wanting to open up about my feelings. I guess I don't think often enough to express that I love her the best I know how and that there really wouldn't be another day for me without my Dama. Maybe that's why she vies so dramatically for my love.
All I know is that today I sat down stressing about work and I realized that I've been trying entirely too hard to get approval from everyone. Mostly my boss, but It seems there's apart of me that wants to see that people around me are dependent on me. To be needed. What's that about? Maybe I'm not as peripatetic after all.

Untitled

Slouching comfortably in a seemingly awkward and stiff leather chair fit for a lawyers office, thoughts begin to run rampant. The room half lit by few candles accentuates the amusing, unoriginal scene and haught leather smell.Slouching comfortably in a seemingly awkward and stiff leather chair fit for a lawyers dumpster, imagination wonders. Sipping a cold gin drink, the memories pour in. Glimpses and flashes really. That fond memory of a young frustrated girl. The saddest romantic. Hopeless. The awesome presence commanded even a memory forever.Savoring the gin, water drips as condensation forms around the small glass. Staring at the glistening drops from the candles the memory turns to the dog. Name unknown, but the familiarity that the dog belongs to her sister staves off the distraction. The dog sits helpless as the girl, who so feverishly wonders life clawing in the shadows for a glimpse of light, grabbing for anything that would offer such comfort only a child knows, hands him to the care of another strange human being.She bursts through the door with dog in tow. Anger and annoyance dancing behind fire in soft eyes. Yelling and holding back tears - the dog is indeed left behind. Forgotten. Left to trust another. As the door slammed, thoughts raced and anger followed closely. Should she be sought after? Does she want it? Who is this tormented girl?Slouching comfortably in a seemingly awkward and stiff chair fit for a lawyers private office, reality slows regrettably back. Leaving a wet spot on the carpet now, the unforgiving yet always there gin is brought up for one last drink. Ice clinking back down, candles burning out - the thought comes to mind. Why did this soul cross paths with a peripatetic nobody? Slouched in the dark now, eyes heavy to sleep - the imagination is faded. Faded to dream of two lost souls walking a parallel line. Arms out- stretched, fingers only inches away from the mirror that stumbles in sadness alongside.

Hey you guuuuuuuys.....

First Things First

I'm slow to it but I am finally a blogger...It's terrifying I know, but then again I figure there won't be many who read each if any at all. Then again I'm counting on the fact that most people will get lost at illbethereman.blogspot.com.

Which brings me to the first of many rants that will be posted on this here page.

So last christmas, my gurfriend, my brother and myself managed to scrape together the right kind of money to meet a buddy, who flew out from Kansas, at the most awesome event every dreamed of by average joes, The Lebowski Fest in Hollywood. Yes that's right. The one event simply dedicated to the most awesome movie ever created and filmed by not so average joes, the Big Lebowski. There's music, there's a bar. You get to meet some of the actors, big and small timers, and drink gallons and gallons of booze! It's so awesome it should be free! At the end everyone tries to sit still to watch the Big Lebowski on a projector. I love it.

So to move along here, at said event, I bought a bumper sticker that says, "Not on the rug, man..." which is a classic of all classic line from the Big Lebowski. A quick explanation of the quote: The dude is being harrassed by some goons who have the wrong lebowski and in an effort convince the dude to give them "zee money" one goon decides to pee on the dudes rug to teach him a lesson. The dude procedes to pull his glasses to the edge of his nose and say, "not on the rug, maaaaan...."

The rant comes into play when I'm approached by someone who happens to read the bumper sticker which is perfectly placed on the left side of the back bumper.

Inquirer: "Not on the rugman? What does that mean?"

Me: "It's not on the rug, MAN. Rug and man are seperate words and man is a pronoun."

Inquirer: "Not on the rug, man? What is that?"

Me: "It's an awesome quote from the Big Lebowski. You should check it out if you haven't already."

Inquirer: "That's cool"

Five minutes later another person comes up to ask, "What does notontherugman mean?"

Me: "Que la!"