Black Coffee Blues

In keeping with my sentiments regarding the fear machine and how it is ruining our country and our ability (as a common people) to actually live life without worry, I found the following quote from Bruce Schneier that should remind us of just that which we all need to keep sane in these frustrating times:

The surest defense against terrorism is to refuse to be terrorized. Our job is to recognize that terrorism is just one of the risks we face, and not a particularly common one at that. And our job is to fight those politicians who use fear as an excuse to take away our liberties and promote security theater that wastes money and doesn’t make us any safer.

And fight we should, for, as they say, “We get the government that we deserve”.  We deserve a better government.  However, for us to get that government, we have to fight and challenge the current one.  We need to make it known that a change needs to be made.  Evolution is the product of necessity.  Necessity is upon us now.

As for fear, I refuse to be fearful of the unknown.  I realize that our government and the media would like me to think that every flight I take could very well be the one that is blown up/taken down.  I cannot and should not worry about that.  All that I can do is board the plane and state, “If it is to happen, then it will happen.” Unfortunately, there are far too many people in this country whom worry themselves to death over things like this.  Perhaps it is a fear of death.  Perhaps not.  But, if you take the fear out of it, what do you have?  Freedom.  What do they (the fear-based machine) have?  Absolutely nothing.  They have lost and we, as individuals, have won.  Freedom is easier to attain than they would like you to think. 

Believe it or not, I actually found myself reading the latest press conference transcript from el presidente W.  I have a question for anyone to answer about the following part of the transcript:

Resolution 1701 authorizes an effective international force to deploy to Lebanon, which is essential to peace in the region and it’s essential to the freedom of Lebanon. An effective international force will help ensure the cessation of hostilities hold in Lebanon once the Israeli troops withdraw. An effective international force will help the Lebanese army meet its responsibility to secure Lebanon’s borders and stop them from acting as—and stop Hezbollah from acting as a state within a state. An effective international force will help give displaced people in both Lebanon and Israel the confidence to return to their homes and begin rebuilding their lives without fear of renewed violence and terror.

First question: Why are we involved in the conflict between Lebanon and Israel?  Where do we fit into their age-old war to justify sending an “international force” to either country?  I ask not to belittle el presidente (as he does that well enough on his own), but ask only to gain an understanding.

Second question: Is this the same type of rebuilding that has been going on in the United States ever since el presidente has been in power?  If so, I really feel sorry for them as I see no end in sight to their “fear of renewed violence and terror”.  Have we seen an end to ours (not that el presidente would allow an end to ours)?

Keep in mind, this is what el presidente had to say about the United States’ involvement:

America is making a long-term commitment to help the people of Lebanon because we believe every person deserves to live in a free, open society that respects the rights of all.

Again, I find it extremely odd that he speaks of freedoms that he does not endorse where he resides as president.

the fifth of November…

Perhaps V for Vendetta has meant too much to me.  Perhaps I have taken too much joy in said movie and what it regales.  Perhaps, perhaps, I am just sick of how this country is running (in fear) and being run (ragged, mind you) these days and see an outlet in the meaning of V.  I know, I know, it is just a movie.  However, it is something entirely else to me.  It inspires the “Damn the man” within me.  It stokes the inferno that has been steadily growing over the years.  It gives me a way to voice my frustrations and paints a picture that shows how I feel.  I think that is a good place to be. 

For too long I have simple stood idle and watched as the articles appeared citing questionable activities by our very own government doing as they damn well please.  For too long have I sat and read and thought to myself, “Surely, someone will say something.  Someone will do something about this.  Someone will stop them from committing these encroachments upon us”.  Unfortunately, I think most people in this country think the same things.  The simple want someone else to stand up and voice what they are thinking.  Call it laziness, call it fear of repercussion, call it what you will; At the end of the day, no one has stood up and stated that which you are thinking.

There are times that I wish to keep these thoughts to myself and live off the grid.  At this point, however, I do not think that would be prudent or helpful to those without a voice.  In order to be heard, sometimes you have to pop up on the radar and be seen.  Yes, I wonder if, by writing about our foul government or our Middle Western terrorists, I will ultimately end up in some file within said government as a person of interest.  But, I guess at this point, I am not going to worry about that.  If I am a person of interest to them, then that means I have made a point.  Of course, the more people making points, the stronger we all become.

For those of you who sometimes frequent this surreptitiously updated site, wonder where all of this is coming from, realize that I am simply tired of not saying anything and wish to have my voice heard.  Hopefully, I can inspire at least one other person to speak up as well.  I cannot say that I will update as much as Mac, but I shall use her zeal as inspiration.

remember, remember…

Coke Nail - I forgot to clip my thumb nail last week.  As a result, I had a coke nail growing up to a couple of minutes ago.  It would have been cool to tell someone that, but I couldn’t take having a nail that long.

Urinal races - First, I hate it when there are three urinals and some dipshit is using the middle one.  That is poor urinal etiquette.  Every male should know this.  Second, I hate it when you are taking a leak and realize that you are going to finish at the same time as the other dude.  That means you could potentially end up going for the same sink to wash your hands and ultimately have an awkward moment of “oops, sorry, um, mornin’” when all you really want to do is slam his head into the mirror and run away laughing maniacally.  That almost happened this morning, but luckily, this guy had an extra bladder or something.  I was able to get out of there without having to make a sound.

Saying “Good Morning” - Unfortunately, my upbringing was one that included the courtesy to say things like, “Good Morning” or “Hi” when I see someone at work.  Odd thing is that even after all of the dickheads I have encountered who just look at me like I have 10 heads for having said that to them, I still say it.  This morning I walked out of the server room and saw a lady whom I know does not share my same tainted views on the world and life (I know this because I was having a conversation in the kitchen with someone one time and she was somehow involved and feigned disgust at something I had said).  Upon seeing her, I said “Good Morning”, to which she gave nary a response.  A split second after I realized she was not going to say anything at all, I said (loud enough so that she could hear, thus deepening the disdain she has for me, “Or not!” and meandered off to the kitchen.  I believe that she was heading to the kitchen as well, but quickly took a detour to the stairs.  I think from now on I might start saying, “Gooogly Mooogly” to her to see if she has any response.  It must be hard to live such a restrained life.  She must be waiting to cash in on all those sins that she didn’t commit, thus taking the strain off good old JC for not having to die any more than he already has.

So far, those are the only things that have annoyed me today.  I am off to a good start, though.

Those of you who know me, know that I am a veritable pit-bull when it comes to protecting my friends and family.  I will do anything possible to assure said protection, regardless of what anyone would call amoral or illegal.  I am one who is not corralled by what others believe is right or wrong and am certainly not one who will back down when someone says that I should, for to do so is to allow others to run your life and lead you where you want not to go.  I see that everywhere these days.  I see it in how our government runs the country.  I see it in how they enforce a fear-based society.  I see it in the media sensationalism.  I see it in the responses to my friend’s post regarding the events of today.  Responses along the lines of “I want to slit your throat” or mumblings about “Don’t come crying to anyone when they scrape your stupid ass off the pavement”.  I applaud my friend for writing what she did.  She posted something that goes against the grain of the “We should all be infinitely fearful of everything” mantra laid down by the media.  She put out there what she truly felt and sparked a controversy.  She even gained the interest of Michelle Malkin, who had the following to say in response:

More moonbattery from an American ex-pat in Britain. (Hat tip- reader Susan). The title of the post is “A Sad Day for Liberty.” Un-freaking-believable. A jihadi plot to down some 10-20 airplaines and kill thousands of people is foiled and this woman is whining because she won’t be able to take a book on a plane and because Arabs are being profiled.

Obviously Ms. Malkin was fearful enough of such a post that she had to dilute it down to simply being about taking a book on a plane and a person’s compassion for a fellow human-being.  Then again, I think this is what the press does, anyway.  Why maintain contextual accuracy when you can simply enforce the status quo of a “control through fear” based society.  That and I wonder if Michelle will change her tune the next time she flies somewhere.  Surely a journalist reads, too.

This is not a site where you will find much on politics or the state of this world, as I have far too much to say and not enough time in the day to write it all down.  But, when my friend is attacked for standing up for that in which she believes, I feel the need to be her guardian angel and her supporter.  I told her to keep her head up and look them in the eye, for that is the only way they will know that they have not one; That is the only way they know that her life will not be ruled by fear.  If you feel that my support of my friends goes against that in which you believe, then feel free to contact me.  You can shift your focus to this site, as well.  I am not fearful and will not lose my ability to speak out simply because someone wishes to “slit my throat”.  I, as well, will not feel down-trodden because the likes of Michelle Malkin does not like what I have to say.

"There are of course those who do not want us to speak. I suspect even now, orders are being shouted into telephones, and men with guns will soon be on their way. Why? Because while the truncheon may be used in lieu of conversation, words will always retain their power. Words offer the means to meaning, and for those who will listen, the annunciation of truth. And the truth is, there is something terribly wrong with this country, isn’t there? Cruelty and injustice, intolerance, and depression. And where once you had the freedom to object, think, and speak as you saw fit, you now have censors and systems of surveillance coercing your conformity and soliciting your submission. How did this happen? Who’s to blame? Well certainly there are those more responsible than others, and they will be held accountable, but again truth be told, if you’re looking for the guilty, you need only look into a mirror. I know why you did it. I know you were afraid. Who wouldn’t be? War, terror, disease. There were a myriad of problems which conspired to corrupt your reason and rob you of your common sense."

Because truly classic IM conversations should never be lost, but remembered for eternity, here is one that shall forever remain one of my true favorites.  Please note that the context before the first line given would give away far too much about my true identity, thus you will just have to trust that baby jesus butt-plugs just normally come up in conversation with me:

(11:42:42) Me: have you ever seen the divine interventions website?
(11:42:45) Me: lol
(11:42:47) Geeky: noooooooo
(11:42:54) Me: they have a baby jesus butt-plug
11:42
(11:43:06) Geeky: god, the internet is full of sick sick people
(11:43:07) Geeky: haha
(11:43:13) Me: dude, that is hilarious
(11:43:20) Me: can you look at stuff like that at work?
(11:43:25) Me: nothing gross
(11:43:28) Geeky: i’m gonna say probably not
(11:43:28) Geeky: haha
(11:43:34) Me: just a bunch of religious sex toys
(11:43:35) Me: heh
(11:43:45) Geeky: actually, maybe i have seen that, like a looooong time ago
(11:43:49) Geeky: did statia link it on her site or something
(11:43:54) Geeky: it sounds vaguely familiar
(11:44:00) Me: yeah
(11:44:03) Me: I am sure she has
(11:44:50) Geeky: i always wonder what those people would do if there wasn’t internet
(11:45:02) Geeky: set up a store to sell jesus butt plugs?
(11:45:07) Me: I would
(11:45:09) Me: totally
(11:45:14) Me: I mean, they sell black fists
(11:45:17) Me: hahahaha
(11:45:20) Geeky: haha i guess you have your retirement plan then!
(11:45:31) Me: in fact, I almost bought one for a friends’ wedding shower
(11:45:39) Geeky: haha
(11:45:41) Me: imagine pulling that out of a box in front of everyone
(11:45:46) Geeky: i would have dropped dead
(11:45:56) Me: hahahaha
(11:46:02) Me: what is your address again?
(11:46:05) Geeky: my bridesmaids put one of my gifts in a Victorias secret bag and i almost died
(11:46:10) Geeky: 123 No Way In Hell
(11:46:14) Me: hahahahaha
(11:46:15) Geeky: Am I Telling You, VA
(11:46:16) Me: you rule
(11:46:20) Geeky:
11:47
(11:48:03) Me: what is the zip for Am I Telling You?
(11:48:10) Me: Google can’t find that
(11:48:14) Me:
(11:48:17) Geeky: 90210
(11:48:18) Geeky:
(11:48:21) Me: sweet
(11:48:23) Me: ok

Ah, what a fun, fun conversation that was.  Geeky is teh rule.

...why I really do not like people at all.  Here is what just happened a few cubes over from mine:

Lady1: GOOOOOOD MORNAN!!!
Lady2: Good morning, how are you?
Lady1: BLESSED AND THANKFUL!!! How are you?

It was at that point my body cringed and I actually blurted out, “YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME”.  She didn’t hear me, though.  She was too busy shitting sunshine on everyone.  Whore.

When I was younger I worried so much about whether or not I was crazy.  I use crazy loosely, but also refer to the clinical sense and not the, “That guy is crazy...he just at a big burrito that was lit on fire”.  I am not sure what led me to worry about my mental stability at such a young age, but I just remember what consternation it cause within me.  I remember not being able to read books about the mentally insane just because I felt like it might actually bear some resemblance to my own life.  I was afeard of it.  Afeard that I would be labeled a nutjob (even though most people thought of me as such anyway).  But, that has all since changed.

What has changed?  I think just the fact that I don’t care anymore.  I don’t care what people think and would actually aid them in their views of me being a certifiably insane.  Most people who meet me can honestly say that they have never met anyone like me.  That is both a compliment and a condemnation.  I choose to focus on the former, though.  The latter just helps keep the crazy ones away.

More and more, however, I realize just how deep down the crazy has gone in me.  I am not crazy to the core with no hope of ever reversing the course.  I am too far along.  I am sure most psychiatrists would see me as a lost cause.  In fact, I have to wonder if they would just throw me in a padded room and throw the key away.  The latter, of course, being a fear of mine when I was younger.  Now it is more of a, “Let’s see if they actually do it”.

Where did all of this come from?  Well, my posts today have been leading up to that, I am sure that is quite apparent.  I guess it is something that has been on my mind.  One of my new favorite songs (even though it is on the top 40 bullshit list) is Crazy by Gnarls Barkley.  The words just seem to resonate with me and my supposed condition.  They make sense to me.  That and I have nothing but love for a band that performs in all Star Wars garb during the MTV bullshit awards (I didn’t watch it, just saw them play Crazy on youtube).  So, without ending in a fine denoument of thought, I figure why not just leave the thoughts behind and just post the following:

I remember when, I remember, I remember when I lost my mind
There was something so pleasant about that phase.
Even your emotions have an echo
in so much space

But maybe I’m crazy
Maybe you’re crazy
Maybe we’re crazy
Probably

What do you do when you are trying to shed those nasy Effexor pounds that you just can’t seem to get rid of?  That’s right, you go and get dim sum with your wife so that you can baloon up and turn into Fatty McFatfuck.  And what do you do once you have eaten yourself into that moniker?  You come back to work and pick up the togos club sammich that you ordered and eat the entire thing.  Say hello to Fatty McFatAttack.  AKA, guess who isn’t going to be losing weight anytime soon.  AKA, I think I am having a heart attack.  AKA, are you going to eat that?  AKA, but I like the stairs…

So, while standing in the shower this morning, I had a cool idea about a film short or skit or something like that.  Here’s how it goes:

Fade in.  Man runs up and points toward some general direction while yelling, “TAINT THERE!!!”

Another man looks at him and replies, “What ain’t there???”

First man looks at him and says, “No, TAINT!!  Over there!!!”

To which we pan over to see a man standing there showing his taint with that Orbitz clean mouth aura and ding.

I love how my mind works sometimes.

Step one you say we need to talk
He walks you say sit down it’s just a talk
He smiles politely back at you
You stare politely right on through
Some sort of window to your right
As he goes left and you stay right
Between the lines of fear and blame
And you begin to wonder why you came

Where did I go wrong (where did I go wrong), I lost a friend
Somewhere along in the bitterness
And I would have stayed up (I would of stayed up) with you all night
Had I known how to save a life

Who I am now and who I was before are two completely different people.  How does one get back to where he once was?  Kinda hard when someone covered up all your footsteps that could have led you back.  I could rage against the dying light, but the sunset is just too damned pretty.

Well and good, good and well, I hope these idiots rot in hell.  Since when did grammar become a complete afterthought?  How hard is it to say that you are “Doing well” instead of “I am doing good”.  I can thank my mother for being a grammar nazi while I was growing up.  Now I want to wring these peoples’ necks everytime they say they are “good” or “doing good”.  No, you aren’t doing good.  You are doing bad in a horrible way.  Yes, there are other things that grate on my last nerve, but this is one that gets me every day.

I read a poem once with the first line being something like, “I shall so go crazy in the mountains”.  That is what I feel like today.  But, I am full of crazy without a mountain in sight.  The withdrawls appear to be getting worse and my head feels as though I was curbed.  For that, I am irritable and angry and could wipe out an entire world with the flick of a wrist just because I feel like it.  I am me, but I am not me.  I think that is what they said on that episode of X-files where the researchers were taken over by the prehistoric alien butt bugs.  There is a tornado twirling my soul around in my body.  It makes me sick and wish that there were an off button for the ride.  If you are looking for a point in all of this, don’t break your brain trying to find it.  Then again, it is big of me to assume that anyone reads anything here anyway.  Besides, looking for validation on the web is like running around screaming at people to pay attention to you.  I am wrecked and feel as though it is transparent and insignificant.

To destroy is to make way for rebuilding.  Question is, if I destroy myself, can I be rebuilt?

This is a hard post for me.  My grandma turned 99 on Saturday.  That is definitely older than dirt in my book.  Unfortunately, she isn’t going to see 100.  She is dying of cancer.  Has been for a while now, but it is getting really bad these days.  It is in her bones.  She is apparently on enough vicodin to kill a horse, but it is having nary an effect on her save for making her head fuzzy.  I called to wish her a happy birthday on Saturday.  She had no idea who I was and kept asking what time it was.  The is the saddest part.  The wife and I are heading up to see her as they are saying she likely won’t be here much longer.  Her deterioration is accelerating with every day.  I just hope she knows who I am.  I would love for her to meet the wife and know that she is pregnant.  Gah, it has taken me so long to write this due to continual bouts of breaking down.  I have never done well with death, even though I embrace it as our final freedom.  I just have to keep telling myself that it is her time to go.  She will be in a far better place.  Oddly enough, I have this insatiable urge to get some ink this weekend while we are up there seeing Grandma.  Some sort of cathartic remembrance of the event and her, I am sure.

I love you and will miss you, Grandma.

Through the back window of a ‘59 wagon
I watched my best friend Jamie slippin’ further away
I kept on waving ‘till I couldn’t see her
And through my tears, I asked again why we couldn’t stay
Mama whispered softly, Time will ease your pain
Life’s about changing, nothing ever stays the same

How can I help you to say goodbye?

So, what is it like to be completely off effexor?  I think Geeky said it best yesterday:

You can hear your eyes moving?

Yep, I can hear my eyes moving.  I am dizzy like Izzy and can’t seem to walk a straight line for more than a few feet.  I feel like a foot inside of a shoe that is two sizes too big; What I mean is that when I turn my head even the slightest, it feels like my soul is flopping around inside myself.  I knew there would be withdrawls, but I guess I never imagined what they might be.  My hope is that no other symptoms creep up and stab me in the back.  What I have right now is more than enough for me.

Don’t get me wrong, though, I am feeling better.  I am actually feeling, period.  You can chastise and praise effexor (or any other anti-anx/anti-dep med for that matter) for the fact that it will make you feel nothing at all.  It kills your ability to feel the bad stuff and the good stuff.  You become a blank face of a human being.  It is good and bad all humping in the same bed.  I have noticed that having gone off the meds (I weaned so don’t worry about me dropping it like its hot and shooting people from the bell tower...well, if I do, don’t attribute it to having gone off the meds) I have emotions that I haven’t felt for a very long time.  I am more connected to my feelings/emotions in a way that makes me more loving to my wife and more pissed off at those I can’t stand.  Given, I have always had an angry streak, so that is nothing new, but I bet the meeeeses would say that while on the meds, my anger was off the charts.  Now, the anger has subsided to a manageable level.  Now I have motivation to actually do things.  Imagine that?  Actually having motivation.  Did I mention that the meds kill your motivation completely?  I couldn’t read more than two pages in a book without putting it down.  Not for disinterest, but strictly the fact that I didn’t have it in me to read.  The internet became a complete bore (well, that holds true still).  My artistic tendencies?  Gone.  Bereft of life.  Nary a muse fart in the house.  Nothing is more frustrating than losing your motivation.  But, now that it is back, I am all over the place.

Motivation has its privileges, but like cake, it can make you sick if you eat too much of it.  I feel like a speed freak right now.  I have all this drive and motivation and sometimes do not have the means to do anything about it.  I baked one banana bread loaf, one chocolate chip zucchini bread, orange blossoms and then bbq’d dinner on Sunday.  Even after all of that, I still had it in me to do more.  What to do?  I had no idea, but I knew that I wanted to do more.  All of a sudden, I wanted to get back to the gym to work off the weight I have gained since being in the valley of the dead motivation.  I wanted to work out like I used to.  I wanted to go and do something.  Anything at all.  Same goes for speed.

I ended up driving to work by myself this morning since the meeeeeses is going to go in later.  So, having no legal access to the HIV lane, I was stuck being every fucktard asshole who wanted to drive 60mph in the fast lane.  Now, some of you know and some of you don’t know that I have a fast car and I appreciate the ability to drive as fast as humanly possible, regardless of posted speed limits.  This morning I felt like I was on meth and stuck behind a mile long line of geriatrics at the local Old Towne Buffet.  No matter how fast I got going once I got around fucktard number 6759, I always met up with the next one in line.  It was maddening because I felt like all I wanted to do was go supernova and blast off into space.  The motivation is definitely back, but everyone else needs to get with the program and give me the widest berth possible.

So, what does all of this mean?  Nothing.  I just felt motivated to write about my eyeball soundtrack and my need to break just about every speed law out there.  I needed to let the deluge of words pour out of my head before they filled up and cracked me wide open.  Now, if only I could get the dizziness to stop, I would be good.