Lunes, Agosto 22, 2011

A Slow Recovery

Now that I've sorta recovered from my fever, I'm actually feeling a little perky. On a Monday, no less. So let me start with an inspirational tale. Prior to sitting down here at some gas station where I used to drink every morning back in late-2004, I went to the bathroom. I needed to splash some water on my face to wake me up, when there was a guy on crutches brushing his teeth on the only working sink. I waited patiently, or as patiently as someone like me could, but the guy was just absolutely anal about the process. He brushed his teeth twice, and gargled three times, twice with mouthwash, and once with water. In the middle of all of this, I couldn't help but be, shall we say, expressive about my dismay, shooting him tired looks, checking my non-existent wrist watch, you know the whole asshole play.

The guy noticed, and while it did seem that he needed another three or four brushings, he smiled politely and let me use the use for the entire seven seconds that I needed it. Now, before anyone goes off how impolite that was on my part towards the handicapped, let me point out a couple of things. One, the motherfucker's arms were twice as big as mine, so it was safe to assume that he was well within capability when it comes to kicking my ass. (Without the actual kicking, of course.) Secondly, if I was disabled, there's nothing I'd want more than to be treated just like everyone else. I'd rather get treated "rudely" than to be tolerated due to whatever handicap I may have had. I kinda think made his day.

On that note, with energy drink and half a pack of cigs in hand, on to blogging I go.

The Disappointing Start. I've always taken pride in being able to start the week right on certain occasions. Good or even great weekends are rather easy, but legendary Mondays? I'm only able to pull that shit off on a less than semi-regular basis. Last Monday was yet another failed attempt.

After a day at the Think Tank, cut short by the onset of my fever, I went once again with the Big Man to start the work week at his project. But the rain fell, hard, and the traffic blew as hard the wind, so there was no other alternative but to cancel work and do one of the many things we do best, which is to have tremendous amounts of fun at the expense of the Bg Man's bank account and my physical and mental health.

So, we hit another strip club. We decided to go to the dingiest, most dubious looking hole in the wall that we can find, and boy did we find one. It was so bad, that… well, it so bad that we ended up going to the lesser shitty one instead. (We were up for something crazy, but not one that was downright insane and suicidal. Seriously, that place looked like the thieves' nest from Agrabah.)

We sat down and had drinks for the entire duration of 30 minutes. That's right, true deceivers, 30 fucking minutes.

Then it was off to the Big Man's place for more drinks and hopefully a more pleasant night's end. However, it was not to be, as the Big Man's mother requested a pick up, and my fever then hit its stride, rendering me unconscious.

While the Monday night mayhem didn't take place the way it usually did from days of old, the point is, every opportunity that I get, you better believe I'm always going to keep on trying. It's just a little sad, really, cause I woke up that morning feeling like P. Diddy. (Yeah, I did that whole section so I could use that damn joke. Fuck you.)

The Quiet Middle. The middle of the week was quite slow, though there were moments of serendipity that I could not ignore. After I have gone through with the first phase of my latest obsession, I had another chance meeting with the girl, this time it was lengthy enough for pizza, pasta and ice cream. It was nice, and since I was already pumped for taking that first step to my latest project (which left me broke) I happily dragged my feverish ass home to Cavite.

As I reported a few weeks back, i was asked by the mother to come back home to liv a her old house with my brother as she moved into her new home (conveniently located within the same village). I had more than a little amount of hesitation about that, as I have also expressed. But, spending the day with the family, (the whole lot of them actually, as there was some reunion thingy) I was actually convinced that yes, this might be a good move for me.

Then someone dropped the ball by casually mentioning the family's awareness of my previous and semi-recurring suicidal tendencies. Now, this is a issue that they may have read off my old blog, however, I have serious doubts about that. My guess is that someone read the old blog, thought it would be cool to discuss it with the family, and now I'm being asked to come back so people would "watch over" yours truly. All of this, of course, was clearly presented to me in a manner that I would accept. And now, I'm even more hesitant for a homecoming.

First off, if there was someone out there who it upon him, her, or themselves to talk to anyone in my family about my problems, let me clarify one thing. It does not make you a good person. it does not make you, at least in my eyes, a concerned party. It just makes you someone who's way too ignorant to realize what it is that I actually need. You did not help, you just caused a wider gap, vast as it already is, between me and my relatives. It was a self-indulgent, arrogant move. You do not know what's best for me, and most likely you do not know what's best for you, and compensating at the expense of how I live my life is not cool. I don't know who you are, and apparently, you have no clue about who I am, because anyone who's paid attention knows that I have my ways and I'm pretty set on them, regardless of how much it's ill-advised or unconventional. I know what works for me, and I hope that you choke on an elephant's cock. I'm pretty sure you're my friend, and yes, I do love you, but my friend, that was the wrong move.

Now, if this was something that they, the relatives, discovered upon themselves, I do hope they know that I can handle this on my own. If I need help, I will ask. I've done so from time to time, and I will do so again. No need to worry, and no need to bring me back into the fold and coddle me. I've lived on my own for far too long a time for anyone to worry.

With that out of the way, the dull but slightly entertaining rendezvous with the blood relatives did present an interesting option: I got offered a job to help make movies. in Africa. Yes, in freaking Africa.

Surprisingly enough, I'm actually considering it, especially if it would allow me to avoid any more unwelcome grilling and questions regarding my personal life.

The Incredible End. The week ended with me at home curdled up in a ball due to my fever reaching levels that I did not expect it would. But, at least I had an interesting Friday night to make up for the work another activities I missed during the weekend. The fever was inevitable anyways, it's been going on for two weeks now. Whether I went out and had fun was irrelevant.

So, Friday night was a night wherein the BIg Man and I ended another work week (though due to my prevailing illness I didn't really do as much work) to another trip to the bar that served awesome beer towers. The result? A lengthy discussion about the BIg Man's position and responsibilities as leader, me throwing up the most mount of vomit I've ever thrown up in my entire life (You had to be there, I was like a fountain of gushing. It was incredible.) and me waking up with the grandmother of all hangovers and a fever that came back with a vengeance.

So yeah, the week had a slow beginning, a slow middle, and eded rather slowly, but there are a lot of possibilities there and a few laughs thrown in. It's wasn't as bad as expected I guess.

I'm looking forward to seeing where those newly cleared paths lead me.

"I saw my friend the other day and I don't know

Exactly just what he became
It goes to show
It wasn't long ago
I was just like you
And now I think I'm sick and I wanna go home

How have I been,how have you been
It's been so long
What have you done with all your time
And what went wrong

I knew you back when
And you ... you knew me
And now I think I'm sick and I wanna go home" - Green Day, "Emenius Sleepus"

Miyerkules, Agosto 17, 2011

Fever rantings

I have a bad cold and a raging fever while I'm writing this, so I thought it would be most prudent to keep this short.

Time Off. As I alluded to earlier, I took a week off of the Big Man's project. I still showed up for work at the Think Tank, but going to the project's a little too much of a hassle considering I'm not exactly up to my optimum capacity. During my time away, I was able to assess not just the Big Man's project, but all of the "teams" I've been a part of. Not for any particle reason.

The week off did me good though. It led to me discovering my next big mission.

Seeing Signs. Something seemingly trivial happened one day last week, but considering the several variables involved for that trivial event to take place, I just decided to see it as a sign to extradite my plans with the latest, and most likely greatest, romantic pursuit.

Yeah, this is not going to be painless. Will be worth it, I guess.

Back on the Mic. Did stand up again, in Ortigas no less, and did a relatively good job. After a string of bad nights at the old bar, I finally find my target audience: drunken college kids who just love hearing me talk about my penis. Got drunk and spent the following day sleeping for 20 hours, but it was worth it. Bout damn time I managed to get good ol' fashioned laughs again.

I will definitely be back the next time they hold comedy night, and I wont be forgetting my little notebook of jokes this time.

The Sky, and the long and winding road. Friday night, went to a new strip joint, which was mildly amusing. Saturday morning, went to the baptism celebration of Charisse's kid. Charisse is a girl the Big man and I hung around a lot back in high school, and well into the college years. Despite her positive aspects (I'm sure there are many.) she still retains her penchant for completely toning a day down to its most absurdly boring level. Hey, everyone needs a skill.

I did what I normally do when faced in such a mind numbing situation. Got really drunk 'til I passed out. It's my version of playing possum, only with alcohol and a lack of manners. What can I say? I can be downright respectful if given proper motivation. There wasn't any on that day. Happy for her, of course.

Quest Updated. Will join a contest. A stand up comedy contest. It will take up all my attention and finances for the next two months. This will also not be painless. This will definitely be worth it.

Cause that's what I do. I bring the funny, though it don't get me money.

Miyerkules, Agosto 10, 2011

Fast Food for the Soul

Hanging out with old friends is a lot like eating at Jollibee. The products are nowhere nearly as good as advertised, and the service is not just slow, but at times absolutely blows. There was a time that eating at that place was a throughly big deal for everyone, but as is the case with most people, the novelty just fades with every passing year. One good thing about it, though, is the consistency. You always get what you expect to get (shitty service included). Sometimes even, given the right circumstances, the specific needs, you get pleasantly surprised.

Last week, I was given a chance to enjoy the company of old friends, and see a new perspective on some of them, even rediscovering some of the ouch parts of a situation I haven't been in in a long time. Considering my condition all year, any sort of feeling is good, and with that in mind, I can say it has been a good week.

Quiet Start to the Week. Before I started on any sort of work of any kind for the week, I had coffee with Jo F'n Regis right in front of his school. I've been shopping around for schools I might enroll in come June of next year, provided I survive my 30th birthday, and Bizarro World, the name I'm calling Jo's school, is probably on the top of that list. We didn't talk about anything new, we rarely do, nor did we get down on anything deep. We didn't even spend that much time together. But a short hour of coffee and small talk is one good way to kick off any week.

I've never really expressed any thoughts I've had on the prospect of Jo finally graduating, because I never really acclimated myself to the idea of it actually happening. That's not a knock on Jo, at all. It's just that, I met him in college, and he has always been a student overtime we hung out. There was a time when he was out working for a year or so, but we never really hung out during that time. I'm a bit dismayed about the fact that he and I wont be sharing a campus again, but still. He's finally growing up, and I hope nothing but the best for him.

I don't know if people in my life has noticed, but there are a vast majority of friends of mine that I can only hang out with for extended periods of time as long as I'm carrying anything alcoholic. Only a select few have been able to keep me interested for long periods of time sober.Some I can't even share lunch with without a shot or two. Jo has always been one of my coffee buddies. The Therapist also falls under that category. And you know what, I'm kinda hard-pressed trying to think of others who I can say the same thing about.

Love and Shit Like That. The section above is a little misleading, as i didn't really start the week off hanging out with Mr. Regis. I also had a short meeting with the giro I keep bitching about in these posts. I'm guessing that's why I've been in a rather cheery mood all week. But, of course, it hasn't been painless. She and I have met a couple of times or so last week, and It has been difficult. I'm in a "so close, but oh so far" scenario that it runs amuck with the whole manic depression thing.

Most of our encounters revolve around her complaining about how she really wants to have a boyfriend, and how the guy she likes isn't paying ay attention to he anymore, and how she's not all that into the guy she's dating, and of course, the coup de grace, her asking me not just to attend her future wedding, but to promise to serve as her "man of honor".

Motherfucker. Thank goodness for the alcohol. I literally drank alone before heading off to the Big Man's project that night. It feels like youth in a bottle.

The Big Blah. Friday morning, I watched "Fight Club" in full for the first time in my life. I've seen different portions of it in different times before, but never really took the time to sit down and watch. People who understand the core of the film and have a little working knowledge of how I think can guess what I was feeling that day. But I had to go to Ortigas on a Friday night (which is more or less Hell on Earth) for the "Avengers'" first night out as colleagues. I was supposed to bow out, making up some excuse like I was broke to ditch the whole thing. After all, I didn't really have to go, I wasn't leading the team, and the manager wasn't really showing any indication that I was needed. However, the mighty Thor called me and pretty much bugged me into going. That would not have been enough if I didn't know what she was going through. If the person I loved was in some sort of medical trouble, I'd need all the distractions I could get as well.

All the right elements was there for a good time, but I don't know, it just wasn't clicking for me.I put a lot of stock on the first night out with any work colleagues. It usually is my basis if the relationship was strictly professional (not really a good thing for me) or if these are people that I could actually care about.

The people from Purgatory nailed it completely. The Part Timers as well, producing long time companions from a mere 3 month stint. When I was teaching, or when I was working for TV, it was always about work with my respective co-workers.

A few weeks ago I went ranting about how the MakeUp Artist brought her issues to the table the night's festivities to a screeching halt in one fluid motion. On this first journey into team bonding, the same kind of attention monopoly, in my opinion, hurt the overall intention of the outing. True, there were laughs, particularly when Van Dyne got drunk off her ass, but most of the night was devoted to talking out things that can be talked about in a more proper setting with the actual people concerned. Hell, the Thunder God had a lover nearly suffer a stroke just a couple of days prior, she wasn't bitching about it at all. I'll just say it again, when you're out with a group, don't bring make the night all about you. There's a time, place, and specific people for that.

The night wasn't all bad, I just didn't feel that all that team-y afterwards.

From a professional standpoint, the project is still in its adjustment period. To me, my role on the team is to not just put numbers on the scoreboard. Of course, that's expected at some point, but any schmuck can do that. When an old friend asks you to join him on a project, it's because he knows of a specific thing that you'll be providing, ideally. The Big Man specifically asked for my help, and that's what I intended on giving. Unfortunately, he rejected my offer to talk about the night's discoveries and the potential solutions for any problems that may arise from those discoveries, so I'm just assuming my services are not required anymore, or at least not in the same capacity and degree. With that said, I'll just finish the year with the team probably, and if it goes well, stay on. If not, I've already got three alternative courses of action. I'm labeling this project as a subplot for the rest of the year.

Scooby-fest. I actually forgot that the weekend was devoted to the Scoobies, had it not been for Marvi's last minute reminder. We were to celebrate Nikki's birthday in the same way we celebrate our respective birthdays together. Drinks, food and stories at Marvi's place. It was the perfect offset to the less-than-spectacular Avengers night.

It wasn't extraordinary, but that's always been the thing with the Scoobies, taking the ordinary and making it special. I have recounted the story of my involvement with this particular group several times before. As I may have stated, my joining the group was mostly about timing. The Gadgeteer, SosoJeff, Li, and everyone from my batch from all courses had just graduated and I took some time off from my vaunted Hidalgo Boys. They had just lost a guy friend because of a girl. At the time I was hanging out with a bunch of artist wannabes and they were far too normal for me to spend time with. We were put in a school together, and I goto to know them, and to this day, they're still the only normal people I actually like. Marvi, with her sharp tongue and surprisingly caring nature. Nikki, with her loud mouth and undeniable vanity that serve as a facade for her gentle vulnerability. Shelly, with her penchant for troubled relationships and her overall courage and lightheartedness to survive. Nats, with his simple-mind but kind heart. Weng, MA and Nino, who're rarely there but when they are their presence make an absolute difference. Of all the people in my life, they're the ones who've never made me feel bad about who I am, a fact that I have stated several times now, and I think it's because they're the only ones in my life who feel absolutely comfy with who they are. (The people who cut you down are usually the people who aren't happy with themselves, and believe that making others look and feel bad increases their value.)

Together, we have survived annoying teachers, "acts of gross disrespect", really shitty exes, money problems, weddings, births, infidelities, and a whole slew of other crap, and there we were, on a Sunday night, getting drunk and taking pictures like it was 2004 again.

I've got big plans for my week long celebration of my 30th birthday, and they're the first group I've confirmed to be included. Not that it's a big honor, mind you, but I've been picky about who to spend those days with. I'm looking at it as my last days on Earth, and only those near and dear get to play a part. These people made my final year of college, still the best time of my life so far, special.

Aftermath. After staying over at Marvi's I went walking around for some much-needed alone time. Everything a little clearer now, and I have found a temporary state of peace. I have big plans for the rest of the month, including a social experiment by month's end, and I feel comfortable enough pursuing it. When the Big Man asked for my help, I knew that it was a bad idea, since working old friends rarely is. I think it only works if you actually meet people at work and befriend them, not the other way around. But no matter what happens in that aspect of my life, whatever the consequence, at the end of the day, I am not one who turns away people when they ask for assistance. While everything is fine as of now, at the very least, it's not as fun as I expected it to be. Of course, the reflexive and rather shortsighted response to that is "jobs are not supposed to be fun". People with cancer aren't supposed to be cured, but that doesn't stop people from finding ways. I just hope no one hits me with the "you don't have a child or anyone to support" argument, cause that's just stupid. I live alone. I fuck up and don't earn money, I become homeless.

Other old friends of mine are managing to stay close by, like the aforementioned fast-food joint, despite any and all major changes, and my current romantic pursuit's effects on my life remains minimal.

What I see now, after the week that I've had, is a need that requires fulfillment. I think I have a solution for that. I just need to hammer out the details.

The rest of the year looks exciting, if I plan it right.

"I regarded the world as such a sad sight

Until I viewed it in black and white
Then I reviewed every frame and basic shape
And sealed the exits with caution tape
Don't refocus your eyes in the darkness
And don't remember this place unless
I describe all the things that you cannot see
And we'll unravel the mystery" - Owl City, "Dear Vienna"

Miyerkules, Agosto 3, 2011

Just a Little Louder Now

I've been extremely pre-occupied for the past couple of weeks, what with work, other business, and of course, my much documented heart problems. Which blows, yes, but I'm still kicking. The past two weeks have been somehow packed with events, but only some of those events may actually lead into other things in my future.

It has been a weird set of circumstances that kinda sets me a little more adrift than I was from a few weeks ago. I'm a lot more detached, I think, and the way things are going, detached is perhaps the best way to go.

Generations of Mischief. On a rainy Thursday night, I went drinking one on one with a fellow Think Tank-er. I never thought I'd be going one on one with a 21 year old that's fresh off of college, especially one who initially scoffed at my abilities of imbibing alcohol. But, once the night was done, the young man was hobbling on home drunk as one could be, while I still had the constitution to see SosoJeff (he insisted on bringing the nickname back) for a favor.

I felt a shallow sense of pride that night, going the distance in my advanced age with someone who's supposedly in his prime (alcohol-wise). Apparently, went it came to drinking, I'm still the Nature Boy. (Only wrestling geeks would get that reference.) Also, it was nice to go out socially with someone from work. It makes one more motivated to show up to the office, despite the ever escalating blood pressure.

Ill-Repute. One Friday night, after a day of talking about stalkers and stupid-ass reasons why couples fight and whatnot with the rest of the denizens of the Think Tank, I was more than content with ending the work week watching the breathtaking Ellie Kemper on the big screen in Bridesmaids. The Big Man, unexpectedly, invited me to go out. I thought it was with the Human Torch, but other things got in the way, so it was me and the Big Man once again (it's going to be me and the BIg Man for most of the rest of this post as well as posts from the foreseeable future). After some expected indecision, we ended up in Paranaque, going to another one of those places where people my age seem to flock to these days. (Most people I hang out with these days seem to have a huge problem going to regular bars and getting a massive drink on, it seems.)

It was pleasant, and if all things follow the pattern I'm noticing, it's going to be indicative of the central theme the rest of the year will be having.

The Two Towers (Of Beer). As Sunday arrived, after a relatively long day at the Think Tank, the Big Man and I hung out once again for drinks, and this time it was in Cavite at this new bar that boasted beer towers. It was the eve of the launch of the Big Man's new project, one that I agreed to be a part of for various reasons, and it was the bulk of the conversation. I offered my own personal two cents, particularly with his inclusion of the Makeup Artist as part of the roster. We even talked about our childhood adventures with our respective cliques. (I found out that the Godfather of Porn was such a drama queen.) After downing a tower each, he was insanely drunk. (At some point in the night I got drunk as well, but what I noticed is that these days, I sober up rather quickly.)

He drove me home, and we had a discussion about my current love life. Apparently there are more people reading my blog than I expected, so my admissions of being in love and having a new muse did not go unnoticed. (SosoJeff actually brought it up in the brief meeting we had.)

So it was almost sunrise, and I just got taken home by a guy who should not be behind the wheel, and there I was, listening to this old friend of mine telling me why should go for this latest girl. I haven't discussed that in detail here in my blog, but there are going to be severe consequences if I should pursue this person, so I made the decision not to do so. I rarely seek advice, and people who know me know me well enough to not give it unsolicitedly. But in the BIg Man's drunken state, I don't think he could've stopped himself from speaking if he tried. Surprisingly enough, what he said actually helped.

He reminded me of how I'm the guy that doesn't really think about the odds, and whether intentional or not, argued that my reservations about the pursuit was a little illogical and presented a logical alternative. He also appealed to me emotionally, that after all the shit I've been through, it was time I actually went out and stopped thinking about other people and focus on something that would be good for me. Not very may people can make me see those things, sober or not, and fuck knows a lot of people have tried.

The way it went, drinking all the contents of an entire beer tower actually was the most productive and enriching thing I've done all week. I will tell her. Soon. And you will be reading about it, and hopefully preparing loads of alcohol to cheer me upon the inevitable outcome.

Avenger-iffic. Once the Big Man's little project got underway, I went into work mode, mostly cause I really can't help it. He joked about calling our workplace the Avengers HQ or some shit like that, and as I was observing the roster and the proceedings through analytical yet geeky eyes, I couldn't help but notice that analogy was quite accurate once you get past the initial "delusions of grandeur" perspective.

In this scenario, the Big Man plays Tony Stark, wherein he funds and manages the entire operation. In this sense, he also possesses the same intrinsic character flaws, like an inability to handle people properly, his vulnerability to the wiles of the opposite sex and his tendency to, despite being more than able intellectually, find himself in situations that can be a little over his head due to lack of impulse control. In contrast, I play the role of Steve Rogers, without the physical fitness, of course. I've often viewed myself as a person who's misplaced out of his time, with outmoded ideals and values. Aside from being the least "powerful" member of the group, I also suffer from a level of stubbornness that can only be born of an inability to compromise when it comes to my own personal measure of right and wrong. Another longtime friend of the Big Man plays the role of the God of Thunder. She's the heavy hitter of the group, while still maintaining a level of lightheartedness and fearlessness even in the face of epic odds. Then there's a couple who I can't help but compare to Henry Pym and Janet Van Dyne, two obviously gifted individuals who together make a formidable pair, but are somehow stuck in their own little world and history. (For now at least.) And of course, there's the Makeup Artist, who definitely is the Incredible Hulk in terms of being an emotionally crippled creature that carries some potential for good and on the other hand, the sheer possibility of catastrophe.

Man, I read too much comics.

Who's Playing Who? Friday night, despite my frazzled nerves, I needed a drink. The Big Man obliged, and we ended up in that same bar where we had beer towers just days prior . The Big Man was unusually emotional that night, thanking me for my contributions to his little project, addressing his fears of failure and others. To be completely honest, at first I thought I was being "handled", but I decided to place my faith on the sincerity of our talk and accepted his words at face value. It was a nice night of quiet drinks, which, of course got shot into hell.

For some reason, we had to go to this bar where the Makeup artist works. He said he was trying to "protect his people" though I doubt if he'd have done the same of it was me or anyone else on the team was in that situation (a situation which I admit I didn't fully grasp). But it was alright, I tried to make the best of it by enjoying what was there to enjoy. As we were about to leave, the Makeup Artist and this girl who thought she was my girlfriend just cause we apparently fooled around a weeks back suddenly rode the car and I was subjected to inappropriate questions about my personal life by someone whose company I'd rather not have. Seriously, do people not give a fuck if I have a good time or not? Nevermind.

Selfish ramblings aside, I couldn't help but notice for the past few weeks how she's got the Big Man wrapped around her finger. Like I told him, I find it kinda odd that someone who's so adamant on retaining control allow for this kind of manipulation. It's like she can snap her fingers and the guy jumps at attention, all the while trying to maintain the appearance of having autonomy. I'm pretty sure all sides think of this situation as mutualism, but for someone who's, to borrow one of the Critic's favorite cliches, on the outside looking in, there's way too many games that are being played here and I think not everyone is quite sure that they are participating. All personal shit aside, I know that at some point all of this becomes clear to everyone, and all I want at this point is transparency. I don't think I'm going to get it, but what the hell, I signed up because I'm fulfilling what's expected of me as a friend, and bitching about this is part of my job as a friend.

I seriously hope I'm wrong.

Funerals and Shit. Taking a break form all kinds of work due to my blood pressure, I went off to attend the funeral of some high school classmate's dad. I don't mean to sound cold, I'm sure it was a terrible loss for him,but he and I were never friends, and he always sorta came off a little on the douchey side at times. Not douchey in a sense that you want to punch him, but douchey enough to try and avoid having unnecessary conversations with him as much as possible.

Anyway, the reason I went was that I have, as mentioned, resolved to revisit some aspect of my past at least once a week, and this was the only avenue open to me on a Saturday night. I bugged anyone who would listen to get together for drinks afterwards, despite my condition. So the guys and I ended up in another dude's house, and I have to admit, it was brilliant. See, there were five of us, each one representing a different kind of person. Five people who normally would not hang out on a daily basis got together for the simple reason of familiarity. One was the guy that manages the restaurant I visited a few weeks ago. Another reminds me of The Rock from Walking Tall. Another compared himself to David Duchovny from Californication, which was a really accurate comparison. The other one a career phone monkey who was always on the outskirts of greatness. And then there was I, the artsy fartsy writer/comedian who should be in therapy.

What made the night interesting was that I was the only one of that bunch who was never married and does not have any children, and each of their views on the whole thing was interesting to listen to. The main theme was that there is no ideal marriage. Despite my inexperience with the subject, of course, I beg to differ.

I always remember that sight, BFF and her man in the pool, in each other's loving embrace. Their union was never perfect, but it sure was fucking ideal for both of them.That sight was pretty much my anchor to reality that night in Laguna back in 2009, as I was pretty fucking stoned and had been sitting in one spot of the pool for three hours. Never have I seen a more perfect moment between two people in love. I, myself, will not settle for anything less than that. (Which explains the 13 exes, I think.)

Anyhoo, it was a really pleasant night (drinking with the boys from the old hometown) that, while I'd rather not do it every night, I'd be looking forward to on a semi-regular basis. They're crude, somewhat antiquated and too typical, but fun is fun, and a little reminder of my own roots is usually good.

Lazy (and sick) Sunday. My weekended on a quieter, but equally fulfilling note. Plagued with my chest pains, I visited the Therapist, who herself is dealing with health and financial issues. (Her problems and mine usually are eerily similar.) Jo F'n Regis was there f course, and it was a pleasant night of coffee, french toast and cigarettes. It's weird you know, cause I'm a depressed, depersonalized dude who suffers anxiety attacks on a regular basis, she's got a similar condition, and the other guy seems to suffer from hyper-activity with a dash of detachment from reality, and yet my nights with them are usually the least complicated nights of my week.

Pills, dreams and anxiety, that's us, and we're awesome.

What now? Now, I ride whatever this wave is to wherever it takes me. I wish the "Avengers" well and provide everything I can prove for the success of the project, I plan on hanging out with The Therapist and Jo F'n Regis a lot more regularly, I'll continue enjoying working at the Think Tank until I finally get fired, and I'll wait for the thing with the Makeup Artist to either self-destruct or prove me wrong. Oh, then that thing with the girl.

We'll see what happens.

"Let me tell you about the loose talk, ticking time bomb

Needs a reaction to get my opinion
'Bout living in this town with its distractions
Got you spinning around and around and around and around" - The Purrs, "Loose Talk"