Wednesday, December 31, 2014

Sex, Drugs, and Excel Spreadsheets

I don’t really go to shows because I am a boring person who does nothing interesting. 

Last night I was hanging out with some friends and we met a couple of Canadian girls who liked the idea of one of my friends rubbing her own feces all over her body before they copulated. 

So we went to the bar where Scotty’s friend was, “spinning records.”

So we’re in the bar and the band is rocking hard. No shirt, tattoos, people making out, iphones at the ready. 

I don’t know, I mean, I had a pretty bad day, feeling down and everything so maybe that’s why this thing made me even more upset. 

Usually when I have had a bad day and my friends make me go watch music I will have a couple of drinks and I will feel better. 

There was a Black Sabbath cover band. 

Black Sabbath is great. 

These guys just made me unhappier. 

I guess I feel like if you go to a show and the music is hardcore, or metal, or core, or death, or death core, or punk rock, or punk core. Or basically something involving anger, and social unrest, then people should be hitting each other in the face. 

Instead people were gently bobbing their heads and swaying. 

Maybe they don’t get angry. Maybe they were raised to have self respect and self esteem. Maybe when they were in high school they were busy studying for their SAT s and planning the course of the next 40 years of their lives and setting up 401ks and mutual funds and their kid's college fund and mortgage and health plan and healthy relationships with healthy, happy friendships at a good job that pays well with good benefits that had nothing to do with their major and they just didn't have the time to be an asshole and smoke pot and sneak out and have sex and other things you should be doing in high school and now they are trying all that stuff after they have settled in to their responsible lifestyle and just can't seem to get it right because they don't know how to be the right kind of asshole. 


I wish I didn’t get angry and was raised in a more nurturing environment.

So yeah, the girl with the brand new Samhain shirt and her boyfriend with the brand new jean jacket with the brand new patches all over it, I hated them the most. 

I asked him if I knew him from the office down on soma. He didn’t know what I meant. 

Then I broke a glass and spit on the floor. (because I am stupid)

Some girl said, “that’s gross.”

I said, “I know, it’s hardcore.”

Or was it punk rock? 

I don’t know, I try not to pretend I’m something that I’m not.

Saturday, December 27, 2014

If Bald, Gay, LSD Tripping Philosophers who were Friends with Freddy Mercury can't Play Video Games, the Terrorists Win

My dog was trying to ask me a question this morning. 

I thought it might have something to do with the relationship between our historic tendency to associate behavior with morality and the juxtaposition of the psychopathological turn of the nineteenth century as elucidated by Foucault.

But she was just asking for food. 

I knew she just wanted food in the first place but I am hopelessly optimistic. 

I get called that a lot. 

In fact I have lost friends from being as they so unsympathetically referred to me as, “positive.”

I don’t consider myself to be positive as much as I think of myself as, “realistic.”

The truth is that I heard someone say that once and I stole it. 

I thought it was a clever cop out.  

Everyone is realistic though. 

Our views are always rationalized by our sense that they are, in some obvious way that no one else can understand, realistic. 

I’m pretty sure we are all right though, I just can’t put my finger on it. 

The pulse that is. 

Maybe that’s because our culture has finally reached its inevitable end. 

We are a country that has been referred to as an experiment. 

Our culture has reacted to itself every ten years, taking drastic turns whenever it seemed to become self aware. 

At least that was true for the twentieth century. 

(I can’t really speak for the Whigs and manifest destiny. That shit was not hip.) 

We have been out of the twentieth century for almost 15 years and we can’t let it go. 

I would be ok with that if we would have learned something from the generations we try to emulate but it seems we are only taking the worst qualities out of each of them. 

The clothing style of the 90s, the greed of the 80s, and so on. 

Actually I don’t have any more examples because the 60s and 70s were a rock and roll filled drug orgy, which is pretty cool. 

So yeah, it appears that once the 90s ended we didn’t know where to go from there and we pretty much got stuck shopping at the Gap and investing in corporate takeovers. We wear plaid shirts and drive Beemers. We eat cheese and drink wine. We talk about the new place and the new show. We try and feel emotions when we hear that black people are still being abused institutionally. We save for our kids education and tell them that someday they might be president even though we know that we live in an oligarchy run by obscenely rich sociopaths. 

All I can say is this, the Interview is $5.99 on you tube and I haven’t been able to log in to my Playstation network for 3 days. 

At least we can stare at our cell phones all day and avoid having any real emotional connection to one another because we pressed a like button. 

Seriously though, that might be for the best.

Monday, December 22, 2014

Too Young to be this Awesome

When I was 12 my friend Marciel and I came across a skateboard. I have no idea where it came from. The best I can remember is that he found it in his garage. 

I don’t know what kind of board it was either but we spray painted it white. It could have been a Powell Peralta board.

We got some clear grip tape and a Powell sticker that was the top graphic on their boards and stuck it on there. 

I think we found some roller skate trucks in his garage and put them on. One of them was on backwards. When we tried to ride it the board went all over the place.

Lesson learned.

I’m not sure what kind of wheels they were. 

Marciel and I were best friends since elementary school. 

Marciel was young but he had a majestic Aztecan nose. 

The first time I rode that skateboard I hit a rock and slid on my knees, skinning them both real good. 

So that sucked, I probably cried, I don’t remember but I hope I did. 

Not crying is for pussies. 

We both got new skateboards at the same time. 

He got a Per Welender and I can’t remember what I had. 

I have to be the dumbest shit. I can remember my first board but I really have no idea what my next one was. 

Oh wait, it was a Lance Mountain. 

Damn, I got scared for a minute. 

So it was an all white Lance Mountain future primitive. I put blue grip tape on it because Lance Mountain did. 

I have had a lot of all white boards and I think it’s because they were sick as fuck and I wish I had all of them sitting in my closet. 

I remember it had Indys. But there is no way I can remember what kind of wheels it had. 

So Marciel and I skated together for a couple of years, until I made other friends and then we just didn’t hang out anymore. 

I really don’t know why. Most likely because I’m a shit friend. 

He was really good though. He was the stylish guy. 

Christian Hosoi was popular at the time and Marciel was more stylish than Hosoi. I think some people were jealous of him. 

I also think he didn’t care that much. 

The last memory I have of Marciel is when this guy we were friends with punched Marciel in the face.  His name was Bill. He wore a glove because he was a dick and thought it would be cool to punch him in the face with a glove on. 

There was a big group of us and Marciel came skating down the street. This is the first time I felt like shit about a friend. 

Really I was just stupid and was convinced that Bill had some kind of real grievance with Marciel. 

In reality, Marciel probably was talking shit about Bill, because BIll was an asshole. 

I felt really bad. And confused. 

But I have always been a moron and could not stop it. 

I did go home with Marciel though. His face was red from where he got punched. 

Marciel was rad. He got chicks.

Bill made me leave my board outside one day so his friend could come steal it. 

Bill died of cancer. 

I’m not happy about that. And I am tempted to think he got some kind of karma, but really I just think that life is fucked and we all get fucked by it at some point. 

Another guy I know who is a really good guy was good friends with Bill. 

It hurt him deeply when he died.