See? I just posted here.
No, seriously, I’m feeling the need to do some long-form writing that no one’s going to read.
See? I just posted here.
No, seriously, I’m feeling the need to do some long-form writing that no one’s going to read.
From time to time, I’m told that I give good, helpful advice. While I’m certainly glad when I’m able to help, and appreciative of the compliments, I also think about a few things whenever this comes up.
First, I wonder why my own life is so screwed up, when I’m apparently not so bad at helping others out. I know it doesn’t work this way, but you’d think I’d be a little better at keeping my own shit together and saving my own ass, if I’m not so bad at helping other people figure it out. It’d be good if I did figure it out, because I am certainly going to need to save myself sooner than later. While I have great friends and some family that care deeply about me and do a great deal for me, even collectively, they lack the time and the resources necessary to see to it that I’m kept safe indefinitely. It’s really not their responsibility to do that, anyway. Someday, I will be truly and totally alone, so it’d probably be a good idea to figure out how to apply any of these talents that I may have to my own life before that happens. Also, just in case it comes up, I don’t buy the idea that I’ve done damage to my own life by being selfless. For one, my life was pretty screwed up before I even got half a clue about how to behave selflessly, and for two, it’s the kind of thing I usually hear from the “Atlas Shrugged Is The Word Of God” crowd, to borrow from Frank Miller for a second.
Moving on, I also wonder if people are aware of how screwed up the person they’re taking advice from really is. For instance, I have not worked a steady job on even a part-time basis in what will be 13 years next month (and frankly, that may never change), but I just spent two goddamned weeks working on getting the village drunk in one very small part of World Of Warcraft to be my Best Friend. Oh, it wasn’t solid time (though that’d be pretty funny), and there are a great many other examples, some far uglier, that I could use to illustrate this point, but I’m still gonna give us all some time to let that one sink in, because it happened while I was writing this.
(And yes, I’m the first one that’ll tell you that our ability to work for a living in the modern version of the straight world does not and should not define our worth as human beings, but still. Two weeks? Jesus Christ.)
Additionally, as something of an extension of that last point (the screwed up part, not the Best Friend in World Of Warcraft part, though they’re clearly interrelated), I think about all of the times in my life that I’ve acted in ways similar to whatever negative or disruptive influence the person I’m giving advice to may be trying to get away from. Part of how I am able to understand some of these interpersonal situations is that, while I’ve been on the receiving end of bullshit more than my fair share, boy howdy, have I also been the person dishing it out in a serious way at times. The impulses that have led me to do so are still, and may always be something I (mostly) quietly struggle with. Now, some people never get wise to the shit they do, those who do don’t always bother to attempt to improve themselves, and some of the ones who do never really get any good at it. I’ve no idea how I do, if we’re being honest here (and please don’t tell me how you think I’m doing, because I’m neither fishing for compliments, nor am I looking for my I’m Not A Bastard Anymore merit badge here), but I do make an effort to pay attention to how I act, and I do try to improve on it. Some people in this world have talked to me more than once, and some who stopped talking to me over the years have eventually started to again, so I guess there’s that, but what’s happened in the past, and what I’m always actively working to prevent from happening in the future are still a helluva cross to bear.
(Yeah, it’s kinda like this.)
More on this subject later, perhaps.
I’ve been saving them all up.
Here’s the first 6 months’ worth. As I get to the rest of the year, more will be added.
I bet you thought I was gonna ditch out on the rest of the year, didn’t you? Well, I’m not. Here we go…
(As has been the case for a bit, mouse over some of the items for SURPRISES. Though, if I’m telling you that they’re there, they’re not really surprises, are they?)
(Nicole Atkins, if you weren’t sure.)
(Yes, of course, I bought one.)
And that’s June!
I’m sitting on a train, just pulled out of the station, headed out to spend the night with new friends, and I have some time to reflect on this year, because, hey, we’ve really enjoyed 2014, haven’t we?
Actually, I don’t think we have, so I’ll keep that part short.
I did make some new friends, and I’m grateful for them.
I spent time with some old friends, too, and that’s always good.
I saw some new places, a few of which I’m grateful for, and the rest of which were in the South.
I almost died, but I’m OK. My car, not so much.
Some people didn’t make it, though, and that’s a bummer. I hope they’re at peace.
I saw some concerts!
I got some bubble gum cards.
I watched a revolution or two begin, and I hope they get somewhere good, for a change.
I turned 40.
And, tonight, I “celebrate” the 25th anniversary of the beginning of my career in drinking by not drinking for the 16th consecutive year. The apartment I started in isn’t physically there anymore, but I still am. In some moments, I still feel like the 15 year old who walked into that place. In others, I feel, well, 40 or older. I thought the hangovers would end when the drinking did. Guess not.
In 2015, I will try to get into shape (and maybe succeed), I will work on my poor impulse control (and yes, someone who quit drinking 16 years ago can still have a long road ahead of them on that), I will try to stop insulting locusts by referring to humans in general and Americans in particular as locusts, and I will try to finish creating something of intrinsic value, anything, because this year, all I finished were baseball card sets, and I didn’t create those. Will I do any of what I’m trying for here? That’s anyone’s guess.
Happy New Year, and may next year be much better than this year was.
Are we up to April already? Shit, that means I’m gonna have to look at the next 8 months soon.
I don’t know if it’s laziness or what (the curation’s taking longer than the other months did, so that didn’t work out if so), but I’ve been inspired to go images-only, without my after-the-fact commentary, for this month. It just feels right. Mouseover the pictures, some of them are active links.
OK, here we go into March.
And yet, I stayed there until just about a week ago, long after I’d deleted OKCupid. I’d had no success with it, and I’m defining “success” very loosely as “meeting an actual human being that I found on the site”. Found a few people I know on there. Swiped whatever direction one does when you like someone for all of them. Even if a date or a relationship or something far filthier is not in the offing, I’m not going to say “no, this person sucks” to someone I’m friendly with! So, if you came across this and found my swiping whatever fucking direction I did to be creepy, hopefully that’s illuminating.
Biznis biznis biznis biznis biznis biznis biznis biznis biznis biznis biznis!
Hopefully, you all enjoyed The Lego Movie as much as I did.
I really shouldn’t include this guy as being part of anything even remotely “good”, as he’s a fucked up guy doing fucked up things to people, and we all should hope that exposing himself is the worst thing he’s done or will ever do, but it’s pretty much impossible not to read the words “Philadelphia’s Infamous Swiss Cheese Masturbator” and not think “Hey, have The Dead Milkmen written a song about him yet?”
Seriously, who needs Tinder and OKCupid, right?
Hey, who watched the Oscars this year?
Real talk right there.
Interesting choice of venue, Suzi. The company was good as always, and the view, which I unfortunately don’t have any pictures of, was extraordinary. As much as everyone makes a bunch of noise about New York being replaced by a bunch of Eurotrashy hotels, I find the actual hotels (the Ace is another one I’m fond of) to be interesting locales. GREAT people-watching, and, because they’re all ridiculously expensive, the decor is generally gorgeous.
Absolutely fantastic season of television. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I could watch a 24 hour channel of nothing but Harrelson and McConaughey, in their True Detective characters, driving around and talking.
I’m easy to entertain sometimes, though. There was this one time I gave everyone “live” updates of me watching Corey Hart’s “Never Surrender” video.
Would I lie about a thing like that?
Probably happens a lot.
For those of you who think the Flying Spaghetti Monster is played out already, I offer an alternate suggestion.
Every few years, I watch the entire run of the original British “Coupling”, because I adore it, and I find myself identifying with a different character every time I do. This time, it was Sally.
One of my favorite comic book covers of all time. Bought it in March, at the same store where I bought this…
Hostess cards are dope as hell, y0.
Yeah, lots about life at 40 and, at the time, nearly-40, is different from the picture I had in my head of it when I was younger.
This may be the last time I was able to purchase the Seven Lettuces, as this economy is simply too fragile to be wasting seven different types of lettuce on poor people.
Someone I know HAS to know the answer to this one.
Something to aspire to, I suppose.
All emphatic declarations about hairy asses aside, I have no recollection of why I used Shazam in this situation. I sure as hell did not “discover” Richard Marx’s “Endless Summer Nights” through my use of the Shazam app. I lived through that shit, y0. I would also recognize this song from about a second and a half of it, played from about a mile away, because it’s just that fucking awesome. Don’t even try to lie and say you don’t love Richard Marx. I see RIGHT through you. Not even being on the piss end of the great pop/rock saxophone boom of the ’70s and ’80s (I think Taschen are doing a coffee table art book about it as I type this) could make this song any less amazing. So, yeah, I was familiar, I didn’t need to use Shazam to tell people how much I love the song, and yet, I did. Puzzling!
As if it weren’t tough enough to sing to begin with.
Well, have they?
I will of course spend the rest of my days imagining all the different layers happening in the HUD, as the one waitress brought this guy his coffee at 4 in the morning. MPH of her walking speed, temperature of the coffee and volume in fluid ounces, name of song playing over the Muzak, room temperature, subtitles to the other conversations happening within ear shot, the brain-eating space worms that one can only see with the 4th dimensional view app…
That’s it for March!
Two notes on February’s output: I did not go in pure chronological order for this post, and I was, for better or worse, way more verbose on Facebook in February.
February begins with an amazing meeting of the minds…
Oh, to be a fly on the wall for that conversation.
Ali and Pelé have had health issues flare up on them in recent days, and my best wishes go out to them both.
Onto less serious topics, like many months, February was a month full of dick jokes.
Interestingly, later in the year, this showed up on Netflix.
And I did, but I’ll spare you the gory details of looking at a Facebook post that just said “COCKS”.
This one’s OK, though.
Yep, I saw Skinny Puppy in February. Always good to see ’em. Apparently.
Thankfully, I’m not the only one who works in this medium, so it’s a little less awkward. Moving on from dick jokes…
This is the song of my people.
Until I finally got fed up and deleted my account (an act which I do have some remorse about, because, my word, look at that username), I was one of the pretty people on a very ugly web site.
And yet, I still found myself having to resort to tactics like these when I went in search of companionship.
Perhaps if I were nicer to inanimate objects, people would like me more.
OK, maybe not that nice.
Yep, on February 12th, I ran out of fucks. Thankfully, I have helpful friends.
This one was from Juli.
This one’s from Crickett.
These two are from Justin.
And, in what should probably get her into the Meme Image Hall Of Fame, my friend Mary (who, truth be told, contributed a LOT to the gallery of images you will see in this series) did, well, this.
Thank you, Mary.
Well, it is! And we don’t wanna end up like this guy…
(Maybe my favorite Captain America quote of all time.)
Speaking of comic books…has it happened yet?
I had kind of a hostile day on February 17th, for specific reasons I can’t quite place. Though, really, checklisting Upper Deck Yankee Stadium Legacy cards would do that to anyone.
Thankfully, I am self-aware.
Hard not to be a little suspicious of a world that puts its sex palaces in shopping malls, though.
And yes, I did it.
My window has occasionally produced some great views. Of the apocalypse.
I will never look at James Dean the same way again.
True story. One of my earliest remaining memories.
This is a true story, too. The guy got into a slapfight with me on his web site because I was marking his posts about his shit-ass record label (which had nothing to do with official web site business) as spam.
Still looking into scoring some.
I hear it makes you feel like this.
That’s all for February. More soon, hopefully! And…
(God bless those boys.)