Born to be Wild

When these guys are on the street in the Richmond Strip, you better run better yet you better laugh

So many freaking emotions are piled high

Wow! I got the conclusion done with my book. I have been working so hard on keeping my book so well preserved and well kept in writing that I have totally lost track of how long I have been working on. So its done. I feel happy I feel a bit disappointed I just don't know how to feel. I mean what a relief to get the final chapter of my book out of my chest. I am so releaved its like a weight off my shoulder.

I am in a pretty good mood right now keeping myself in high spirits and not going to do anything to jinx it. I know I am going to possibly be feeling the terriblness later but for now I am excited. Its such a rush for finishing a hard working task as my book. I finshed my first book before I turned 25 woohoo. I am so excited. I am thinking I am going to do some more changes later on but for now I am leaving as is.

My muscles still feel funny, but now I feel rejoyful. What I think is funny is when I was a senior, the same week we had to write our graduation speech, we had to write a list of things of things we wanted to do before we turned 25. One of the things on my list was finish a novel and well I did that.
Top 15 things I want to do before turning 25 that I would like to do. some I have accomplished.
15) Join a Student Activist group
14) Visit Death Row to talk with immates
13) Be on the radio
12) Be in a student organized protest.
11) Write a novel
10) have a steady girlfriend
9) Read War & Peace
8) Get some of my work published
7) Have a beer at a hole in the wall bar
6) Sing Karoake
5) See the Red Sox win the World Series.
4) Go to Europe again
3) Backpack through Canada
2) Write a play
1) Win an Award

These are just a few things I wanted to do and what I have done before turning 25.

So far the novel is a greatest accomplish I have been pretty happy.
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So whats next for my agenda of doing things before I turn 25. I think I am going to scale a mountain or go on a farm. Either way it will be just another cake walk. I am pretty happy for today. I have a few things that I have done since I accomplished my book and now I am set to begin something new. I think starting next week I will work on a new book. Yea get my brain energize.

You know today was one of those days where I felt like I could do the Happy Dance and no one would stop me. Hehe I like the happy dance it always puts me in a better mood. By god am I so bored. Hehe. I called to see if Bjorn wanted to go out but once again I got his stupid voice mail. I hate those things. I mean they are such a pain in the ass and I hate the way my voice sounds on them. But I am going to see if Amy wants to celebrate with me. I am just so excited I finished my book. I am tired but happy. Happy Dance time. Hehe

I am right now listening to a midi version of Fat Boy Slim's Praise You. Its pretty good. Its helping me with my happy dance.

My feet are asleep and I am going to start my happy dance.

Damn General Electric Contract

Sure, General Electric paid more money but they chose Obi Wan instead.

America's Least Wanted

Tonight on a Special episode of Cops Steve Urkels gets arrested for murdering Carl Winslow.

I knew Elmo went to far with that Tickle Me Elmo

Why I have loved the Muppets and Seasme Street for so long but never thought of Grover and Elmo as being gay.

As Featured on Guns and Ammo.com

I saw this in a gun magazine and I knew I wanted to be the first on my block with one. First the post office then well you get the picture. No more postage due.

College Libraries are always cool even there study areas are different.

Seriously folks, when your designing a library study cubicle think before setting the design. I mean come on ZEIG HEIL . i took this at the college library at Unnamed University in Houston that is near the medical center and was founded by a guy named William Marsh something. I thought it was too funny that I had to post it.

I saw the sign in Covington and was like what the Hell

True the sign never lies, but damn aren't we a tad cruel.just a little aren't we

True I can't drive but appartently neither do the drivers for Clements Truck Rentals

What a total dumbass

I had a revelation last night while sleeping

I want to start a band. Yea a blues band. I had a great time singing old school blues at a country western. It will be a band that feature great blues and soul music. The blues are great part of Americana. I liked soulful Blues. I want to create the Blues Brothers experience but at here in Houston. Only if I had a few people can play or at least jam the blues that I want to play. I am thinking if I have a band we will dress like the Blues Brothers on Vacation. Straw fedoras and sunglasses with hawaiian shirts and either sandals or boat shoes. I am thinking we would be better than the Blues Brothers but not be an imitation. Yea! I am thinking of what we would call it the Beachwood Classic Showband. BCS for short. That would be cool, classic blues and some great soul music like Aretha Franklin, Cab Calloway and Sam & Dean. Yea that sounds like a great dream.


Well, today I am planning on finishing my book today. I have been putting it off for the last time. I did listen to some new cds today, I didn't purchase them, I borrowed them and well. I listened to the new Billy Corgan cd.Well I like Smashing Pumpkins and I like Billy but somehow this was a near miss in my list of what I would by myself. He still bitches and whines like he typically did when he was front man for Pumpkins. Its has a great few songs but the rest of the album is a total waste. I figured, I was waiting Melissa Auf De Maur to show up in the album. Oh well the cd was a good listen to but I would pay at least 7 bucks for it rather than what the store was selling it for 16.00 but thats just me.

I have a few things that I have done today to finish, like my book and answer a few complex equations but I can wait till I am finished with them. I am tired and my muscles ache I just feel real sluggish. I hate feeling so achy in the morning especially when I have been so tired the last few nights.

Well alright, nothing exciting has happend I am going to start writing the last page. I'll write more later.

Tell Me Mister Know It All

Among the rather large number of things I don’t understand, one looms larger than the others today. Allow me to address it first with a simple question:
Are there quantifiable traits that go into making an excellent bar owner?
Seriously. Are there? And if there are, what might they be? In all likelihood the traits are numerous, and probably differ greatly depending upon who is answering the question. There is one, though, that, in my somewhat expert opinion, should never be exhibited by any bar owner.
He or she must not be a know-it-all.
Entering into a new business arrangement believing that you are smarter than everyone else spells doom. Know-it-alls don’t listen, they don’t watch, they don’t study, or ponder, or mull. Why? Because they already know it all.
It’s a prime example of bad thinking. It’s the sort of thinking that lead Roseanne Barr to believe she could render a splendid version of the National Anthem. It’s the sort of thinking that infected George Lucas just before he decided that Jar-Jar Binks would lend Episode I that special touch of whimsy. It is, in fact, the sort of thinking that lead to, among other things, New Coke, the Chrysler K-Car, Pickett’s charge at Gettysburg, social Darwinism, and Mr. and Mrs. Hilton’s decision to leave the rubbers in the drawer the night they conceived Paris.
Bar owning is serious business. Many owners fail to grasp this most rigid of facts, and it’s especially problematic when talking about buying an already-thriving establishment.
Which brings me, at long last, to my main point.
I have watched the purchase and subsequent downfall of several terrific bars over the last few years. These places were fully-fledged members of their neighborhoods, each with a scads of regulars, and robust weekend and “theme” night crowds. They were, in short, thriving concerns. Then, for a variety of reasons, their owners decided to sell, and each buyer seemed dumber than the next—guys who couldn’t pour water out of a boot with instructions printed on the heel.
One in particular stands out, though I’ll avoid using either its old or new name. The place was pretty much all you could want in a neighborhood tavern. The cocktail waitresses remembered your name and your usual drink, and the bartenders were total pros—long-time service people who knew when to float a free round to regulars, knew their names, and the names of their kids. For food, it offered an array of standard bar fare—nachos and the like—in addition to a compliment of yummy Greek dishes. The coolest thing, however, was that the cook was an actual chef, trained at the Culinary Institute of America, and so each day there was a special menu of stuff you almost never see in a local pub—cold blueberry bisque, spicy New Orleans gumbo, escargot in garlic butter, etc. The atmosphere of the place changed according to the time of day. Around lunchtime it attracted business people, then a late-afternoon gaggle of elderly stool-flies. A family contingent moved in for dinner, only to be replaced in the later part of the evening by a college crowd, for whom it was walking distance from campus housing. Every Wednesday was Ladies Night. Atypically, more women showed than men. Tuesdays and Saturdays, they had karaoke, and you felt embarrassed for fewer people than is usually the case. They showed sports on TV, but you couldn’t really call it a sports bar. Two pool tables lurked in the back room, host to a league night on Thursdays. You could smoke anywhere you wanted, strike up a conversation with all sorts of different people, get full, get loaded, and have a righteous ol’ time generally.
Then the owners, tired some said of their hectic lives, found a buyer and got out of the business. It happened over night.
A waitress said to me, “See that guy over there in the Aloha shirt? He’s the new owner.” As a regular, I was curious, and so went over and introduced myself. In return I got a limp handshake, and a snotty attitude. The guy didn’t give a shit, he was meeting one of his regular customers. Many of the other habitués complained of the same treatment.
And it got worse in a hurry.
First, he changed the menu. Said it cost too much to keep it supplied. Then he changed the beer selection, which had previously featured beverages from all over the world, to a bland assortment of watery American drool—he had made promotional deals with the distributors, you see. Right on the heels of that, he decreed that no waitress or bartender was to hand out free drinks. If they wanted to buy a customer a shot from their tips, that was fine, but freebies were right out. As a follow-up, he ruled that boyfriends and girlfriends of the staff were persona non grata when the staff was on duty. Over the next few weeks he cancelled the karaoke nights because he didn’t like them, he fired the chef for refusing to reuse yesterday’s fry oil, and he canned all but one of the waitresses and bartenders—all the good ones, of course. The one he kept was rude and lazy, but adhered to the new rules with malevolent gusto. He redecorated, removing the pictures of happy customers and other homey touches, replacing them with sports team and distillery neon. It had been his life-long wish, it was said, to own a real sports bar. He topped off the remodel with the installation of several plasma screen TVs, which he paid for by raising drink prices by a dollar each.
The long-time customers, some of whom had been drinking there for twenty years, were peeved and bolted in droves. The family diners found other destinations because the food now sucked. The college kids stopped coming because the place had lost its eclectic charm. Soon, all the owner had left were the stool-flies, guys who can nurse a single glass of beer for three hours, and always tip a quarter, never less never more.
He lost money by the bucketful.
I stopped by a few weeks ago, just because I was in the area and wanted a quick shot and a beer before work. I was the only customer in the place. The bartender, a surly kid with too many facial piercings, told me it’s always like this. I smiled, drank my booze, and left.
The new owner is a fool. Beyond that, he’s a know-it-all. He looked at a thriving business, thought he could make it better, and instead murdered it.
What a stooge.
Many of us drunkards want to be bar owners. When you decide to make the move, do it wisely.

Mister Walker Percy 

I thought of a conclusion.

You know this reality is kind of true. I would be weird. I am still trying to solve the last chapter of my book. Like every work I have written I am scared to write a conclusion. A conclusion is always an end. An end is a means that I have to start a new beginning. Well what brought me to the subject of an end was my thoughts of the Great American writer, Walker Percy. When I went to the Wedding of Chip & Kerry I talked with Mrs.Percy and told her I am a writer and still working on the conclusion. She brought me a subject that her husband had a hard time finishing the ending of the Moviegoer. I know that doesn't sound right but I am just worried that I am able to finished and I won't be able to conclude it the right way or the way I wanted to start it off.

I guess writing will help me solve the solution.

Caption Naming Contest. I know its not Sunday but I have been busy. I haven't thought of this until now. But I did wonder I am a democrat, but I always thought Babies tasted more like beef jerky  

Part of Blog sent by Miss Canada

Damn You Tony Orlando and the your freaking Yellow Ribbon

This blog is comes from Miss Canada.

Tie a yellow ribbon 'round your SUV
It started with yellow ribbons. Yellow ribbons from the old folk song, dating all the way back to 1981, showing support for the US troops abroad. Yeah, we all thought it was an older tradition than that (see essays here and here) -- some suggest dating back to the civil war. It turns out that the practice of tying a yellow ribbon 'round the old oak tree really only exploded with the Scud missiles during the first Gulf Storm.If only it stopped with yellow ribbons. At one time it was a nice gesture -- a show of solidarity, support, faithfulness. Now Americans are ribbon-crazy. Next it was the AIDS awareness red ribbon. The pink breast cancer awareness ribbon. You want a list? There are millions! Black; Black and Blue; Black and Pink; Blue (Dark); Blue (Light); Blue and Yellow; Brown; Burgundy... Wait a minute, I'm not even out of the B's yet? Luckily there are kind souls willing to help us match our colour to a cause, and even sell us the ribbons to go with it -- See here.Now, I don't want to seem unpatriotic or uncharitable. I support all sorts of good things -- just not by wearing ribbons. Or by wearing pins that look like ribbons. Or even by (my favourite) slapping a magnetic ribbon onto my vehicle.Let's think about it: We put ribbons on our cars to tell the world that we support our troops. Our troops are in Iraq. They are fighting for oil. To fuel our gas-guzzling, irresponsible SUVs. Whereupon we paste ribbons to tell the world that we support our...

Jack & Me, and a perfect apartment for me

I tend to complain and today was a day I thought I wouldn't complain but I just feel hot and sticky. The weather itself is no fun. I am again stuck at home writing. Which of course can be a great thing. I spent most of my day at home pondering what could I do to cheer myself up. I have after all nearly finished reviewing an edited my novel. I am thinking of Jack Kerouac today. I mean, Me and Mister Kerouac have a lot of similarities and brings me to the point that I believe that I am his reinarcnate.

Here are a few similarities. Both of were raised with French Canadian Mothers and American fathers. Both were ackward as children that people found to be wierd. He tried many careers before settling into writing, like I have. He had a strange set of friends, like I do. He dropped out of Columbia, I dropped out of Ottawa. Both of us are left handed. He loved to explore new parts of America, I love visiting backwoods of areas. Both of us have trusty best friends that inspire us to write about them, he had Neal Cassidy I have Michael. Both of us have our mothers confidence to continue writing. Both of our fathers have a great sense of humor. Both are proud of there sons. Both of us, tried out for some sort of sport and failed to do something and quit, he played Football & I wrestled.

Jack was a drunk, I am a drunk. So you see there are a lot more possiblities that I can compare myself to Kerouac. But those are just a few I could think of on the spot. I was thinking of that when I went to Barnes and Nobles and found a cool post card of him and his cat. I figured it would be kind of cool to get a cat just like that. If I ever get a cat, I would get two, one named Ginsberg and the other Kerouac. Named after my two favorite beat poets.

I can imagine myself living in a small apartment with two cats in the city. Writing or at least having papers filling the rooms with poetry and articles that I deem somewhat subjectable or unsubjectable. Its just a dream I have. Of course, my dream is to get out of Houston and live in Montreal where its cooler or maybe even New York. Have a place where I can sit on my lap top and write. Ah that sounds like an ideal place to live a nice studio filled with manuscripts and papers of notes for my latest books. Bookshelves full of books of poetry and generation X stuff like Nick Hornsby and MTV Generation stuff. Records on the floor. I know it would look like a disaster but heck it would be my personal place. I would get a housekeeper to clean every 2 weeks. I would do the laundry in the basement or have my own washing machine. I was thinking a place like Patrice has,but in a str8 neighborhood. Close to everything to walk around at night. A place I can walk or ride my bike around the city. Ahh my dream apartment. I would have furnature from IKEA and stuff from home.

I can dream can't I. I know that this dream is far ahead of myself and I know I am not ready to move out on my own yet but I am slowly thinking about it. I am still trying to think what I am going to do next, like am I going to like living in Montreal or will I live in Montreal, or would I like to live in Montreal. I am saying I am going there for vacation its not like I am looking for work and staying there for a long ass time. Its a vacation.

I also want to go to Ottawa while I am there. To visit and sight see. Maybe have lunch at Minglewoods. Just explore the city. Or I may relax and take it easy. A lot too think about while waiting. I have to first figure out where to stay and when I can stay and for how long? Pretty much a lot to think about. I just want to get out of Houston soon the heat is driving me nuts.

My birthday is coming up and I am thinking I am going to be old.25 woohoo a mile stone. A quarter of a century. Yea, I am now officially going to be in my mid twenties. I am also one of those lables now. 20 somethings. YUCK. Well I can't wait to be 25. Yea, I have some fall back ideas, I mean sure 24 is great but 25 I am practically 30 but hell I am going to be happy. I am still not married, don't have a kid yet. So things are going good for me. Going to celebrate it in New Orleans, hopefully I am going to be able to go visit the quarter. I want to go to Pat O's and drink a Hurricane or two.

I also want to go to Preservation Hall to listen to some good jazz. I am thinking of all the stuff I want to do while there.

Well I am going to write more later.

A boring Sunday

This has truely been a boring sunday.
I mean you know Sundays have always been boring. I know I don't do much on Sundays, I am usually sick but today I have a headache and I have a terrible pain in the legs and arms. My muscles feel weak. The weather isn't much help either. Today is Father's day and well I am stuck inside again. The whole thing with Amy is still worse off then before. It seems like this fight will last another day. So why fight it right.

Today, I am planning on staying home and relaxing at home and watch a dvd. I am thinking of watching either Superman or try to sleep. Well I finished earlier this weekend watching The Prisoner the entire series. That to me was pretty cool. I liked that show, it was a great series, and to think they don't make good shows like that anymore. Patrick McGoohan is a terrific actor. He played King Longshanks in Braveheart. I am thinking I am going to buy the series or at least order it from Barnes & Nobles and use the money I save from the house cleaning to buy it.

Well, I don't know what to do today. Infact, I don't know what to do tommorow either. Hell, it kind of sucks when Ihave no plans. I used to have plans. Now I just feel like they are all tossed up in the air. Last night, I went out to eat with my parents and I tried to see Amy before getting in a wreck which nearly killed me. So I have a swollen arm. That sucks. So I have a swollen arm and a terrible headache.

My eyes are so droopy that I feel like I am going to hit the keyboard falling asleep,but I also know that once I hit the pillow I won't sleep.

Nothing is on t.v. and I am bored. :-(. I am hungry too. I am going to raid the refrigrator. See what can I. Hopefully there are some hotpockets left or some meat balls. At least that will fill me up. Hmm! I did the tacky room added some pictures on my wall. I think I am going to ask mom to take me to Barnes and Nobles so I can pick up some post cards of pictures of comedians to put on my wall. Hopefully she says yes. i really need to get out of the house. My feet are killing me. Hmm. I hate lupus. I just wish I knew what to do.:-( AH I GOT AN IDEA!
NAH!

Well I will write more later.

So Dick Durbin hates the Military.So Freaking What.

Senator Dick Durbin (D-IL) is a good man and I understand what he really meant by comparing the treatment of prisoners at Gitmo to Stalin, Hitler, and Paul Pot. He wasn’t bashing the troops, but the government policy of torture. And no, the torture policy of the US isn’t equal to the three regimes Durbin mentioned, but any torture is bad no matter who does it and to what extent. The German Nazis torturing Jews is torture, but so is US policy of allowing prisoners to defecate on themselves and to attack them with dogs. There’s also a difference between “comparing” and “equating”. Equating is like saying 3=3. Comparing is like saying 3 and 5 are both prime numbers, odd numbers, and less than 6. So Durbin was comparing, not equating. Also, Durbin wasn’t blaming the troops or blaming the US, but bush and the government policy. The guards at the prison were just using tactics given to them by the bushies to soften up and torture the prisoners for some reason I don’t know. So Durbin was actually “blaming the government”. Hmmmmm that sounds like what a conservative would do. But the conservatives now own all four branches of the government, so they fuck their own platform. I think bush and the ‘cans are the ones who really hate the troops; they send them to die in a war that was fought because of a lie.
I can talk about torture and moral relativism until the cows come home, but let me say one final thing about Durbin: HE SAID NOTHING WRONG. Why don’t we talk about all the ‘cans comparing liberals to Stalinists and Nazis. Rush limbaugh, the vulgar pigboy keeps calling feminists “feminazis” just for wanting equal pay and opportunities. And look what I found on his limbaugh’s quote page at his website today:
“Since the fall of the Soviet empire, the new home of socialists and quasi-communists is the environmental movement.”
Whoa whoa whoa, is limbaugh-the-hut morally “equating” Stalin, Castro, Lenin, Mao, Krushchev, Kim Jong Ill, and Paul Pot to environmentalists who keep our air, water, and land clean? Or is he “comparing”? Heh heh

Well! :-)

I figured I had a wonderful morning except I had a fight with Amy. I am still trying hard to figure out what I did wrong. Well I think I did a few things wrong like I had see Lise. The terrible witch of an ex. I also compaired Amy to Lise. Which was a terrible mistake,in my own part. I also did a few things I shouldn't do I had a pint of Smithwicks and a glass of water. I should of gotten a coke or something. I was so angry seeing Lise and Leslie that I took it out on Amy. So we are pretty much in non speaking terms for today. I also talked with these other ladies at the other end of the table, just talking with them. She said it was ok that I talked with them, but I can tell with her body language it was like No. I am so confused.

My heart feels funny after this fight, I know I have done a lot to hurt our relationship and I am trying to figure out what to do to fix it. I know I am in the dog house and the only way out is to fix it without sounding like I am fake.

Emotions are killing me, I have hard to figure out, part of me is sad, part of me is releaved. I don't know how to feel. I did to much or I did to little. I know I shouldn't let my emotions carry me and I shouldn't leash it out on the women I love. I did that before and that is why I was single for so long. I keep all my emotions inside and attack on people. I do that with every1 even my parents.

Well, ok aside from the fight I had a good morning I woke up and I started moving really funny I guess I had my head full with emotions. Well, can't figure out what to do, whether I should call her or should I let her call me.

The weather outside is hot and sticky and I am staying inside. It couldn't be much worse then it is now. I am staying in and going to grab my clothes out the dryer and fold them. Then I am going to shower and look nice to go stay in with my parents.

Well today Tulane is in the College World Series so I am going to watch the game with Dad. Pretty boring day. I am so torn between staying at home and feeling sad or going out. I think I am going to shower and shave.

I need to cheer myself up.