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"

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.

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"

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"

My Little Neighborhood

Since I've started writing about my weekly adventures here on this website, I've mentioned several times that I have been more detached from the world around me as I ever was. This past week, after having a really shitty weekend, I decided to indulge that detachment by cutting myself off from the rest of the world. Didn't turn out exactly as planned, but it did give me ample time to think about certain aspects in my life that I may not be able to focus on had I followed my traditionally hectic day to day tendencies.

I've come down from the utter wrathfulness of last week's post, since I've had a few pleasant surprises , no unexpected visits and a mighty fine Saturday night. Plus, I come to you a tad more enlightened as I have been a week earlier. All that free time left me with no other options but to seek enlightenment.

Celebrity Crushes. I engaged in a little midweek drinking with an officemate who apparently needed a break from something that was staggering her senses. We didn't get shitfaced, cause I had to go to work, but a causal bottle over nice conversation was a good way to reduce the boredom, especially when it's with someone who has a "problem" similar to mine.

It's a bit weird for most people, but her problem, like I said was similar to mine. Apparently, she has a crippling crush on a celebrity from some reality TV show. It was so bad that it kinda affects her life in more ways than one. Hell, I can relate. I'm the guy who watched two entire seasons of The Office non-stop because of the lovely Ellie Kemper, so I feel her pain.

All in all, it's always refreshing to be out with people I work with. Makes more comfy going to the Think Tank on a daily basis.

Moonlit Nights. After that pleasant evening I went back to work, because money's tight and rent's sorta expensive. (I say sorta because rent is mostly based on perception. The actual effect of rent on my personal finances depend highly on how much money I actually have. Some months, it's chump change, others it's an insurmountable amount to make, the equivalent of a fazillion gajillion pistes.)

I worked all night, I did. Me and another member of the Think Tank tried our best to make do with the time we had to do a smooch as we can.

The full moon was up on one night, and I spent a good portion of the night just staring at it. Looking at how beautiful the Southern skyline is under the moon made me appreciate where I am at this point in my life. While it's true, my current situation has a long ways to go from becoming ideal, I can't help but feel at home, not just at the office, but the general circles I roll in these days. Frankly, I've never felt comfortable anywhere since graduating college, and I've spent many nights watching the moon wondering where I fit in.

On that night last week, i didn't have to wonder much.

Newborn Babies. Friday, after another all nighter at the office, I went to Cavite. On that day, the BIg Man's wife gave birth, and I decided I should be there if ever I could be of use. Plus, hospitals tend to have a special, albeit unpleasant place in my heart.And while I didn't harbor any delusions of my presence creating that big of an impact, I did spend some time in the ICU, and i know how company can be greatly appreciated in those places.

The Big Man and I spent a lot of time tackling about the past, particularly his previous stints as the official bedside companion to a number of sick relatives. (I never did quite figure out why someone with his lack of bedside manner and patience was always the one chosen to fulfill this particular task repeatedly.) It was a nice, quiet, rather self indulgent Friday. (We ate voraciously.) The Critic and the Human Torch even showed up for a bit, each adding his unique dimension to the experience. I left Saturday morning, feeling quite happy for the couple, and wondering how this would impact the lives of everyone involved. And I do mean everyone.

Highschool Moments. When I was at the hospital, I was asked by the Critic as to when I'd be back, and I didn't give a solid answer. All I said was, if I got a better invite, I'd most likely show up for that engagement. I did get an invite the moment I got home, though it wasn't necessarily better. But I resolved to visit some aspect of y past once a week, I thought what better way to end a quiet weekend with a bunch of noisy Cavite people. Yup, I attended another drinking session with my high school classmates.

As always it was classic, especially since one of the guys there started kissing other guys and I had to talk people down in order to avoid a fight. What I like about hanging out with these people is that they're basically strangers to me. I never spoke much with them back in high school, and they view me, I think, the same way they did back then; rather vaguely. They weren't around for all of the things that have happened since we turned our tassels to the other side of the cap back in '98, so I'd like to think that with them, I pretty much have a clean slate.

Plus, the entire group has a heightened sense of self-importance (not necessarily a bad thing, and something I've definitely been used to from a lot of the people I've met in my numerous exploits) that mostly they talk about themselves in a manner that simply dismisses any other possibility of greatness in things and people not involved with them. This allows me to not talk about themselves, so I once again have people that I can merely drink with and not have an intimate relationship with. They can continue glossing over their lives, and I get people that I can text whenever I need to get my drink on. Perfect.

Oh, and I've found a new muse. What can I say? The phrase "giddy as a highshool teenage boy" has never rang truer.

Future Plans. As I've said earlier, I'm a tad more enlightened. Not completely but a tad more. I still haven't decided to accept my mother's offer, but there is an apartment available right beside the Critic's pad that seems like an appealing compromise. (Get your resignation letters ready, boys, you're gonna need when I roll back into town.) I've got six months before I turn 30, and I have three courses of action that I'm seriously deliberating. I've got a couple of other things going, and I've even managed to resolve a few emotional issues along the way. As I mentioned last week, I've dismissed the option of therapy. I like being a little broken. It makes me me. And a return to comedy is underway.

Wish me luck. Or not. No big.

"The interstates and eighteen wheelers

The sketches on the rest stop bathoom stalls
I call her from a hotel pay phone so far from it all
The odometer is hypnotizing
The tires turn the dirt for miles and miles
I wanna see the Nashville skyline
If only for awhile

Cause I heard about the party last night
I heard that there were drugs and fist fights
When all I see are miles of streetlights
That's when I miss home

So I try to forget but I die inside every time I miss it
Cause you're still three shy
Don't you forget it's not a party when we're gone
And if the cops come by
have a drink and tell them this one's for the boys
And I will try to forget that I'm gone" - The Pink Spiders, "Still Three Shy"

Tightly Wound

I'm just going to go off for an entire post. Seems appropriate.

To sum up my feelings from the last week, I'm just going to go with "I'm pissed". Given my escalating condition, I'm happy to be feeling anything at all, no matter how harsh or extreme those particular feelings might be. I am currently seeing everything from a rather point of view, and I must say, the view looks remarkably corrupted.

I know, it's one of those posts wherein I make minimal sense. Keeping the sense at a minimum seems like a prudent thing to do though. I've said before that there are no good people, just people that are on your side. The thing is, these days, when memories start to fade and the herd needs to be thinned to make way for comfort, no one is on anybody's side.

Throwback to Purgatory. The one good thing that happened to me last week was also something that was somewhat an ending to something that has ended a long fucking time ago. Like wrapping an important subplot to make way for new ones, I had what seemed to be one last day with what remains of the people I've grown to be fond of back in Purgatory.

To those new to these pages (Yes, that would be you, Chad.), I worked in a call center back in 2009, the worst year of my life. I refer to the place as "purgatory", because everyone there, myself included of course, had a mostly okay existence and then that particular life ended. One way or another we all ended up in that place, and since longevity in those companies is rare, everyone knew it was a matter of time before people moved on to a better (heaven) or worse (hell) place.

Being in Purgatory was the highlight of that difficult year for me, meeting individuals that had made me feel far less alone and unconditionally accepted like very few of the people who had come before or after the few oaths i had stayed there. In fact, had not my body broken down, I would probably still be working the phones with my fellow miscreants.

A couple of weeks back, news that one of our own was leaving the country for good. So, despite work and other personal matters, nothing could have stopped me from spending the day with them, whittled their numbers may be. There were only four of us on that day, and that brief lunch was actually more gratifying than most social events I've been involved with over the past six months.

Of course, we didn't just have lunch. Once the guy who was actually leaving the country had left, I had the remaining two join me in the Fortress for drinks and stories. We all met each other precisely two years and two months ago. In that time, couples were formed and broken up, people got promoted and changed drastically for the better or worse, certain individuals have left in pursuit of either new environments or old dreams, one even came out of the closet.

And, as a special treat, they left me a parting memory. Apparently, the boyfriend of one of the girls I was drinking with has been waiting right outside the Fortress' gates for more than hours as we were getting drunker and drunker and laughing our asses off. Inebriation and total disregard for other people that are not us, just like old times.

That day gave me a sense of peace I rarely have, and I will always long for the time wherein I actually find myself in the company of these colorful characters on a regular basis again. Far from perfect, but perhaps the most beautiful collection of people I have been a part of.

Unexpected Visit. One thing that people should know, especially ones that have known me for years, is that if I stayed at home for the entire day, doing nothing and not inviting anyone, then that should indicate I'm not interested in seeing anyone. That's why I don't like unexpected visits. If you are going to be arrogant enough to visit me without an appointment, at the very least, please fucking make it worth my while. I'm not just some dude who sits around waiting for your people to drop by. I do have a strict schedule and even stricter set of principles when it comes to how I spend my time. If you're going to alter that schedule, at least make it memorable and pleasant for me.

But on a night when I was just gearing up for an all nighter at the Think Tank (I missed work due to the Purgatory Farewell bash.) who else shows up but the Gadgeteer and his girlfriend. Of course, I go and entertain the way I usually do… by buying beer and hoping that I at least get some pleasant conversation out of it. What I got was something that came off as a blowoff beer bash, with the Gadgeteer not exactly as cordial as he usually is, and his girlfriend sitting in the corner constantly complaining that they had to go.

Point one, if you had to leave early, you shouldn't have fucking showed up in the first place. It's disruptive, it's presumptuous, and it's flat out annoying. Point two, the Gadgeteer and I had been friends for a decade or so and he haven't seen each other in a while. How about a little fucking respect for everything that's come before, and not just sit there making snarky comments? When your boy was downtrodden, bitching about his ex, and I told him i was unavailable cause I my blood pressure was sky high and showed up nonetheless, did I turn him away?

This is the same vibe I got from one of my older friends, the Godfather of Porn, when he finally had that kid he had always been dreaming of, and I think the whole I'm-pissing-on-everything-else-around-me-attitude-now-that-I'm-kinda-doing-well vibe is a recurring trend to a bunch of people around me these days that I'm seriously curious as to who is giving away these asshole pills and bottles of Instant Bitch Energy Drinks and how come I didn't get any.

Minor Annoyances. With the couple basically throwing me off schedule, I missed my supposed Saturday night movie with Nikki, and my night with The Therapist and Jo F'n Regis to celebrate the former's birthday just so I could catch up with work. Saturday night, and it was raining as hell, and I had nothing to do, but then I remembered The Critic's IM from a few days past, asking me to go to the BIg Man's house for a little drinkathon. I thought, "what the hell, last time was fun".

So I went, and we (The Critic, The Big Man and I) were keeping in close communication until I got to the house and no one was there. Yeah, the other residents were there, but they weren't the ones I traveled all the way in the fucking rain to visit. This is actually a normal occurrence, since they usually go on a booze run at the last minute, but I ended up waiting for more than an hour with nothing to do because the two decided to exchange music knowing full well I was there.

On the surface, it seems like a little thing to rub me to wrong way, but as I've learned early on in my adult life, it's the little things that are the most telling. It wasn't the waiting that kinda ruined my mood, it's lack of effort of letting me know where the fuck the people who invited me there actually were. But I let it slide, despite the fact that I had a gnawing feeling that I was about to have a shitty weekend.

So we drank, we ate, we laughed and talked about comics and other shit. The morning after, I fucking had no drive to do anything.

The Life Expectancy of Clouded Judgments. Sunday, I decided to not work and just go along with the Big Man's supposed interview. See, we are about to engage in a project, wherein he finally gets to wear the big boy pants. I tagged along thinking I might as well do something productive and see the people I was potentially going to work with.

Not surprisingly, the Make Up Artist was there as well, and wouldn't you know it, it was a crazy night. Not crazy as in "Damn, last night was crazy, let's do it again" crazy. More like "holy shit, shoot me now, or better yet, shoot everyone else" kinda crazy. I've been preachy all throughout this post, so I might as well keep it going. Like I told the BIg Man that night, there's drama that's necessary, and then there's drama for drama's sake. The former is something that everyone has to deal with at some point, preferably at the right time and place. The latter, just kinda fucking ruins shit. See, she, had a few job issues that she couldn't stop bitching about, repetitively. Now, I'm not downplaying her problems cause sure that shit is serious for her, but I firmly believe in talking about it in the right place. Not in Marbles. Not when there's only three of you and you're going to be unloading on one person, completely leaving the other dude with nothing to do but drink and no one to talk to, and essentially preventing the person you are unloading to an opportunity to have a good time. Dude, I'm six foot three. The other guy's nearly 300 pounds. We are as far to invisible as anyone can get. You don't take a social gathering and turn it into something that's all about you just cause you have problems, cause everyone has problems, a lot of them probably bigger than yours. Again, there's nothing wrong with a little ranting now and then. Overdoing it, well, that's a different a matter.

I wont pretend to know every detail of her supposed problem. But the fact is, when you bitch about losing your job, make sure you really lost that job. Not waste a perfectly good night out crying about it and then text the following night that you got your job back.

When I started this new blog, I said I was going to be more honest, and in all honesty, I think the guy that's about to wear the big boy pants is a little distracted that some of his courses of action seem rather unsound. Personally, yes, but I think it's starting to affect his professional life as well. Or would affect his professional life. I pray I'm wrong, but if there's one thing I've had experience on, its emotional unstable people in the workplace. Seen it, heard it, been it.

Oh, hell no. Came back to Cavite, to my mother's house, and me and my mother had a little chat on a rainy Monday morning. Apparently, she bought a new house and wants me to live in her old one with my brother. That little talk left me a more than a little confused.

The moment college was done, I had moved out, living with different roommates before finally being able to live on my own in 2009. I had on a few occasions come back to live with them, the most recent of which was last year, when I thought my mother was having problems and I wanted to confirm if it was true or not. Once it was settled, off I went once more.

I found the proposition to live in that house again preposterous, as my brother and I never got along. Back in 2007, we had a huge fight that ended up with me not dropping by for two years.

Her intentions for this particular change still aren't clear to me, though I'm sure everyone with a traditional view on family would have half-assed theories. My mother's own arguments regarding the merits of my moving into that house weren't really convincing enough. She even went as far as to bestow responsibility on me, saying "I know that you can handle yourself on your own. But I'm not sure your brother couldn't. So if you could learn to be the bigger person and make it work…" You know the drill.

I'm not completely devoid of propriety, cause if it was any other person, I would have pointed out how much that shit isn't really problem. Everyone else has been hitting me with the ol' "your mother's getting older, so it might be best to give her what she wants" song and dance, but that's still not a logical reason to subject myself to a surely horrible experience.

But, I said I'll think about it, so I will. We'll see. Man, Baguio seems to be a nice option right now.

Retrospective Point of View. In the middle of writing this, I went to the convenience store to get my favorite energy drink, as it was 3 AM. When I went to the store, I saw my boss from Purgatory there, the one that I've always claimed to be the best boss I've ever had, and the best boss I will ever have. (Seriously, I don't think anyone can measure up.)

It got me thinking. The time I was in Purgatory, I was messed up. I was drunk and high everyday, taking more pills than I can handle, cutting myself, and I've had discussions with certain individuals wherein I've heard that what I was doing was not healthy and immature, dangerous, and some even went as far as to say that it was WRONG.

What I was doing back then was self-destructive, so it was dangerous. Definitely unhealthy. But immature? Wrong? Come on. It was a form of escapism, and the way I see it, being clean somewhat for the longest time now, it was a better alternative than what most people I see are doing to themselves now.

I was unhappy, and I addressed that. I didn't live in denial. I didn't shoot down other people's happiness just cause I didn't have mine. I didn't repress nor regress. I didn't hurt anybody that I love in any form, nor did I neglect anyone else but myself. I didn't take anyone for granted. I didn't lie to myself by thinking I was better when I wasn't, that I didn't have issues or problems when I had a shitload of them. I never pretended to be anyone I wasn't. I never lied, stole, cheated. Never debased or degraded myself. I was unhappy, but I never planned on settling on nothing less than my own standards of happiness. It was something that was happening to me, and when I was done with it, I was done with it.

People have come to define maturity based on outward actions or stature, titles. That when you reach a certain age, you have to be this, or that, or with this person, or own specific things, prioritize certain things. I define maturity with accepting who you are, knowing when you are wrong, fighting, if needed, when you are right, never forgetting to say "thank you" and "I'm sorry" when needed, learning constantly, knowing exactly what to retain and what to discard, keeping an open mind and taking care of what's really valuable. And of course, right or wrong is different from healthy and unhealthy.

I'm still not okay, far from it. Why else would I spend the night blogging? But I'm not worse than most of people I know. A lot of people in my life right now are going through something that they are dealing with in a manner that, in my opinion, is far worse than me getting smashed with people whom I've found a sense of belonging. And the difference is, I knew back then that I was doing all that shit because I was dealing with something. A lot of the people I've been around with, particularly this year, don't even seem to recognize, or even accept that they're dealing with shit, because the thought of them being troubled is a far too uncomfortable thought to deal with.

With that in mind, I've decided to forego therapy. I'd rather not feel anything and deal with anxiety attacks, then undergo the process of counseling and medication just to have someone tell how to be just like everyone else. The way I see it, most of everyone else is more fucked up than I am.

"Man! Cause I don't wanna do that

I want to have a good time and enjoy my Jack
Sit back and watch the women get drunk as hell
So I can wake up in the morning wit a story to tell
I know it's been a lil while since I been out the house!
But now I'm here, you wanna stand around
running your mouth?!
I can't hear nothing you saying or spitting, so wassup!
Can't you see we in the club?! Man shut the fuck up!!" - Ludacris, "Get Back"

Endless Chatter

One thing I realized is that in all of my 29 years walking God's not quite as green Earth, is that this is the first time I've been distracted by a freaking puppy. It's just there… staring at me while I write. I downright creepy I say.

Nothing much this week in the earth shattering events department, but all the chatter I've engaged in during the past 7 days or so have definitely shined a specifically different light on specifically mundane aspects of my own life. I guess I've just recently reacquainted myself with the importance of major face time, especially after my extended period of locking myself in the Fortress a few weeks back.

Coaching Sessions. Apparently I didn't get fired, but I get benched for a couple of days. It was a little annoying, considering how much money I could've made during those days, but the feeling was passing. I've been always been more of a quality time is more important than money guy, and it makes little sense to change that now.

In order for me to be allowed back on the workforce once again, I had to go through a coaching session, which was more than I expected it to be. I'm no stranger to such corporate procedures, and during my time I've developed a healthy routine for such occasions. I step in, exchange pleasantries, nod at key points while planning my night in my mind, step out when it's done, and contemplate quitting as I drank that same night.

Like I said, this one was different, for several reasons. One, I really do like what I do at the Think Tank. The entire set up has been ideal for my lifestyle. Two, and I actually timed this, the majority of the coaching turned out to be a very interesting life-coaching session. About 15 minutes of the hour I spent there were devoted to actual work policy coaching, and the rest were a general discussion of the psychological and the metaphysical. The people I spoke to agreed that I should embrace a form of routine in my day to day living.

Huh.

It was all helpful though, and I was glad it all turned out that way. They gave me really good points to ponder, and though I might not give all of those general improvement tips a try, it's comforting to know that there are specific people nearby that are able to supply them. I used to be assessed as someone with a huge problem with authority. I thought that I just had an issue with people "handling" me. After that little talk I realized that I just was never "handled" the proper way, personally and professionally.

Loud voices in an empty bar. After two or three weeks of no-shows, I donned the green coat and made my way to open mic night, hoping to finally get my rhythm back, the rhythm I lost when my "condition" turned for the worse. And for my legendary come back, what would face me? An empty fucking bar. Baby steps I guess. It was a good night though, and I figured out how to get a decent buzz before I hit the stage of that overly priced old folk's home of a bar.

Small talk in another empty bar. After that painful but still amusing experience, I made my way to a restaurant in Makati where a high school classmate of mine was running the joint. We were never really close back then, considering that the only people from high school I spoke more than a few words with are still in my life in one capacity or the other, I still wanted to hear the guy's story, and it was an interesting one.

The guy had plans for his life. Went to a good school, got a degree in one of those boring ass courses that almost ensures a successful life, and he also had a career mapped out for himself. What he didn't expect though was that he would be so enamored with one of the jobs he initially saw as a stepping stone and he just never left. Now, he's fucking managing the place, and has no complaints nor apparent regrets.

The one thing I took away from that was hope. See, I've been a wanderer for most of my adult life, moving from one place, job, and relationship after the next with little or no hesitation. As suggested by my "life coaches" earlier that day, I had to find out what was missing in my life and work towards it. I'm glad my old classmate found that missing piece. I'm also glad he gave me a bucket of beer, on the house. But I'm much gladder that he was able to find his own version of contentment. Hopefully, me and my friends do so as well.

Screw everyone else, though.

Shop talk and new people. Friday night, I hung out with the BIg Man and a former coworker to drink and shoot shit after watching the third Transformers movie. (The movie, by the way, did the seemingly impossible. It made the second one look good.) There were a bunch of new people there, and I can't remember the last time I hung out with new people that weren't in a strip club.

I should do that more often. The meeting new people schtick. Not the strip club bit. But then again, being single, it really wouldn't matter.

The Dreams of a Fool. For some reason the stars may have fallen aligned and I actually didn't have anything to do on a Saturday night. I had a few options available, but none of them was appealing enough for me to actually deal with the traffic and all that. So I decided on having Pizza night at the Fortress. The reason for my splurging is that I joined this office activity wherein we are going to do something similar to reality TV's the BIggest Loser. We all weigh in, and after a specific period of time, we see how much weight we;ve lost. The biggest loser wins the pot.

In an attempt to cheat I ate like a fucking pig, hoping to put on enough pounds that would give me a bigger weigh in that I could easily shave off, in theory providing me with an advantage. That somehow didn't work, as I went to have my official weight checked, I was actually 6 pounds lighter than I was a couple of months ago. After all those nights of drinking, laying around, eating junk food and still I lose 6 pounds? That's… highly unsettling.

But, I digress. During pizza night, I was there, enjoying the cheesy and meaty goodness of cholesterol and carbs as I read comics and watch a few old stand up comedy videos, there was a knock on my door that pretty much ruined it. I don't get too many visitors, as there have been only seven people in my life who have been at the fortress, and most of them I knew were preoccupied that night. I open the door, and who do I see? My ex's brother, asking to drink with me. (The last couple of sentences sounded a bit Dr. Seuss-y, don't you think?)

For the first time in my life, I turned out a drink after four shots, as he would not shut up about his dreams of becoming a movie star. Hey, I get where he's coming from, but knowing him as I do, and knowing what his current situation in life and what I perceive should be his priorities, I just couldn't get this pipe dream of his.

But of course, I'll try to help him out. Social responsibility and all that. I grew up watching comics, what can I say? Let's d our duty and feed the monster.

Loud Music, Hard Liqour. Sunday night, I had a very disturbing dream. It was so disturbing in fact, that I've been a funk all Monday. The bum sickness was so bad that I even planned on drinking alone, but since it was the 4th of July, the Big Man didn't have work and we got our drinks and songs on at Marbles. I love empty videoke bars. The service is a lot faster and you have the entire room all to yourself. I fucking sang my ass off. It was not enough to belay any unwanted feelings. So we went to his house and got even more wasted, and spent the night deconstructing our respective psyches like only old friends are able to.

I'm a little bit more steady now than I was, and I think the conversations with the different people helped.I have a better idea of what I want to do now, and how I'm going to go about doing those things, and about that disturbing dream, I think I may have fallen in love again. It's no big deal. Happens once a year. I can handle this now.

"I've been waiting for a long time

For this moment to come
I'm destined
For anything...at all
Downtown lights will be shining
On me like a diamond
Ring out under the midnight hour
No one can touch me now
And I can't turn my back
It's too late ready or not at all

I'm so much closer than
I have ever known...
Wake up

Dawning of a new era
Calling...don't let it catch you falling
Ready or not at all
So close enough to taste it
Almost...I can embrace this
Feeling....on the tip of my tongue

I'm so much closer than
I have ever known...
Wake up
Better thank your lucky stars....

I've been waiting for a long time
For this moment to come
I'm destined for anything at all

Dumbstruck
Colour me stupid
Good luck
You're gonna need it
Where I'm going if I get there...
At all.... " - Green Day, "Waiting"