Saucy Gillespie is Dead

Fuck Spam

2005-10-21T16:10:00.000-07:00

You're going to burn in hell spammers
I want to send you there
Your violations
Are aggravations
Fucking Die!

Spambot shot by guy with gun for the fun of it
Fucking Die!
Spam is to eat
And I will devour the spamming perpetrators
Agitators
Anger
Fluent in tunnel vision
Mad with rage
Seeing Red
Fucking Die!

My rights stolen
Raped
I go to far!
Fucking Die!
No more Nigerian Spam...
No more Viagra
No more P-O-R-N-O

Destroy Nigerian Spam fuckers
Fucking Die!

2005-10-19T11:53:00.000-07:00

Black gold...And gold teeth for the correlation
Of what is suppose to be
F-R-E-E
Something you must own privledge to
Of what persuasion are you?
Bring on diamonds in those bright shining eyes
Surprise!
There will always be a glass ceiling
Because the balls in a figurative sense
Is where they grip you
The pressure makes us prostrate into consumer
Behaviors
Mannerisms
Call them norms if you will
Religions and guns
Laws and booze
Counteraction and destruction
Views of two sides
Like two shelves colliding
Smashing every shed of decency
Waning contradiction weighs a ton

Agnostic Concoctions in the Hands of Make Believe

2005-08-30T02:49:00.000-07:00

A throws away...Stone(s) throw away
Don't throw away
...Because on this day
YOU CAN PRAY

...To Whatever it is you believe

I'm tired of fashioning out the trite plans of longevity
Surprise me with the vindication of passion plays
Shorter days
Shotgun sprays
And a good ole lay
To parlay upon paradiddle
For the sake of a riddle
Twist and Vomit!

Herd us into quarantine because you simply heard the meanings. Better to grasp on to relative postmodernism and play out the real truth in a cinema. I can neither deny you upon the request as unjust and unsound as it really may be, but I can fornicate so I am...I am a man...I am
(hu)man...DAMNED to be imperfect, mortal, and immoral as it has been written by King James in the scriptures of the holy guide to wisdom!

The power of suffering is unleashed!

Great truths are being discovered as we wait this storm out...

Who is waiting around for me?

No one

But for the sake of the heavenly host...am I to assume by your response that empathy has simply faltered by the roadside, as an old horse?

The horse has only perished for you old chap, everyone else is going to catch that train today...

But what of me oh mighty powerful spirit of whole goodness...White pure majesty of the divine sanction...Honorable infallible king of man...What of me?

Death...
And the eternal burning and infliction of unadulterated pain and suffering!

Fuck it Johnny! Give me some booze!

Drink it up like so...the reality of the divine sanctions
The sanctions of priests
The sanctions of madmen
For the world is run by fools
And they believe in an overseer of rights and wrongs
Blacks and Whites
Good and Evil

If only it were so easy
I may have not made my self at home in so many bars...

The Last Hoorah

2005-08-30T02:36:00.000-07:00

Sometimes it's hard just to let these things go
When life is a rag and has you in the throw
Take a leap into the tranquility
Of what you know
There is time you know?
So much for time...

It's blinding to see the lights for the first time
When love is lost in a taste of gin and lime
Drinking down the reality
Is not a crime
Is LOVE a crime...?
And now your doing time!

Take a shot at really being free to scream
And wake us all up from a dream
Flooded South hanging out
Waiting for the team
It's a bad dream
This time...

Sleep Good

2005-08-25T00:01:00.000-07:00

What's your favorite time?
Time for tea?
Time for love?
Shared experience with a friend?
Hands held like nothing else in the world matters...
But everything matters
Because you could be suffocated
You could be whisked away by the stretched arms of death
Blackness
That's where the fear lies
There is no exploration
No pontification
No explanation
So you...I...WE fear that D-E-A-T-H
Because we can only see things in a linear sense
There is only beginning
Hence, there is only the end
THEY label you mad if you jaunt off that linear path
But is anything truly linear?
"FOOL!"
You exclaim.
See what I mean?
M-A-D

Mental Illness

2005-08-03T01:28:00.000-07:00

Lock 'em up...
They are out there on the street doin' them crazy ass things to
People...
Throw away the key
Any good servant of God would
She must have been on drugs
Made bad choices all her forsaken life
Strayed from the path
Of faith and prayers
Because everything is good when you pray about it
And that lady...That crazy-assed befuddled lady
Most certainly didn't pray enough
Because she is wearing all of those jackets and sweat shirts
In the HOT HOT sun
Like hell...It's hot right?
Right
On the right
Pray for George
Be an activist
And give me the phone there Jed,
So I can get that crazy assed druggie lady put behind bars
That's exactly what Jesus would have me do
...All good Christians do...
What's that Jed?
What the hell do you mean schizophrenia?
Is that some sort of clever word for devil worship?

Nothing To See Here

2005-07-16T01:08:00.000-07:00

Whisked away into a whisper of wandering willow wonders
Sunshine burning the retinas just enough
To continuously see red...Forever
Like quills of a porcupine
Count them
1...2...3...
And allow your blood to spill
On a hot summer night
Allow the moon to possess you just enough for a spell
Cast out on a dream
A scheme to plot against the world
Against the grain
Against the wind
Sin for the sinners
A game for all to enjoy

Fondled by the frigid frailty of forward fanatics
Muslims
Jews
Christians
Scientologists
Actors
Necromancers
And the ilk
Of trained tunnel vision tenacities
Trudging towards doomsday events
Solemn trials of witches in Salem
Smoke if you got 'em pilgrim
Smoke right to their fucking grave
Happy Birthday

Draft Sunk

2005-07-12T21:14:00.000-07:00

Sucked in time-
Linear formation of evangelical schizms
Formulated productions
Glowing neon familiarity
slang terms
Homebodies
Spin at the house for the kids man...The kids
Candy Ravers-
X in high demand
Exploration for pleasure
And the pursuit of true pain
Tracers out of prisms and minds corroded
With all sorts of malfunction
Mechanical whores of blatant debauchery
Tie me up...
Collect your thoughts for once
Stop trying to sell me your scene
Thank you

Fuck Warhol

2005-07-08T03:35:00.000-07:00

We need porridge but don't have a pot to piss in
Flogged out of the outer stratosphere into the empty galaxy
With the rest of the dim-witted twits and twats
Of the refrigerated and refined
Conundrums
Balls to you and yours!
Hemlock for me and mine!
Drink it down to the bottomless sheen
Of your stainless steel Starbucks mug
Whip up something real fast in this stainless design
You think your mind may unlock the radical irrelevant Chatter I pronounce
Yet, you fall flat on your face every time the interpretation gets Closer
Yes,
Take a closer look inside yourself before you try to buy me off
For some candy-assed frolicker
With the dandies
And the Andy(s)
I'm a cowboy for Christ's sake
And forsake him once you're in the clear
Three time the cock crows
In your life and in my own

Fired or Hired?

2005-07-05T20:13:00.000-07:00

New World Order
For the short order cook
The waitress is rude
And the hostess is diabolical -beautiful and cunty
A mixed-up adventure
An adventure not for the likes of me

Where will we be a year from now?
A month?
A week?
Beach front property
Cafes
Diners
Salad Bars
I want to explore art
I want to explore Samoa
Television just can't cut it anymore
Love does the trick
When sanity is in line
With everyone and everything else...
That happens about once in a lifetime
But that is all I really have.

P

2005-06-30T19:36:00.000-07:00

Preposterous hooks of lust-laden funk
Polished by brass assed mammas
And corn-bred Pappas
Gyrating as if taken over by the poltergiest of bassist technique
Tossed over the side of a groove ship
Landing in a sea of heartbeat stealing thuds
It will take your breath away
Every time the beat hits
Leaving you fully aware of the atmosphere
And at the same time lost in a new experience

Consumed by the vibrant radiation of lights
And sound
Colorful variations of the same
It proves this species is both complex
And yet simple
Carnage
Mayhem
Bop-Gun

Late Afternoon Ponder

2005-06-30T16:54:00.000-07:00

Burdened by the constraints of normality
Thoughts are a million nomads camping out on my sanity
They hold signs that read
"Will work for food."
But they appear as if they only would work against
What my mind is set on
It was easy as an infant
As a child
But I never knew what it was all about back then
All this preparation
All this training for what leads up to now
And still, I don't really know a fucking thing
Imposter!
I cast the judgment on myself
Because I am the one who holds what lies ahead in the balled up palm of my hand
Balled up into a fist of tension
Defense
What is the best defense?
It sure as hell is not Vitamin C.

The Music Baton

2005-05-20T11:57:00.000-07:00

This was passed to me by Sandra

Total volumes of music files on my computer:
I don't know exactly-around 200 songs or so

The last CD I bought:
Elliot Smith: From a Basement On a Hill

Song playing right now
Sly and the Family Stone: Dance to the Music

5 songs that I play a lot, or mean a lot to me

Cracker-"Big Dipper"
The Doors- "Shaman Blues"
Paul McCartney and Wings- "Band on the Run"
Sly and the Family Stone- "If You Want Me to Stay"
Blind Melon- "Hollyman"

I'm passing this onto Jaya

Mother's Day

2005-05-15T20:08:00.000-07:00

Superfluous thoughts spread like a Great Plains brushfire
I have to scratch them down

Cave drawings
Something to connect someone else to the past
Consider it my "time capsule"
Not for literal swallowing, but swallow it down anyway
No chaser necessary

The thoughts of waning contradiction
Like so many subscriptions to periodicals and magazines
Just to use the photographs for
Summer camp collages

Mom keeps these collages in a large Manila envelope
And she keeps them in her heart
With a mother's pride
And a numbing sadness
Her son is gone
But not passed on
He is literally hemispheres away
A sailor boy
Who romanticized the thoughts of sea travel by reading
Jack London and smoking too much tea
Now he's gone and relocated
-Planted roots somewhere else

She looks at those arts and crafts
As tears fall on popsicle sticks and construction paper
As she wanders in wonder of what he may be doing now.

She could call
But doesn't want to inconvenience anyone
Plus there is a time zone to contend with
And she cant' quite remember how many hours to account for
Perhaps tomorrow...
she tucks a homemade Mother's Day card into the envelope
A slight crinkle rings out as the she tucks it all back into her closet
A sanctuary for a half century of memories
Some good, Some bad
All real mothers have them.

Nights at the Blue Wisp

2005-04-24T01:33:00.000-07:00

There's something about music and complimentary booze...I drink martinis listening to jazz, or maybe a double gin and tonic with plenty of limes. You can't go light with limes bartender, or Saucy goes light on the tip. I'm a big tipper too; especially if I sense the guy behind the bar is looking out for us. Most bartenders don't realize there is an art to the profession, not unlike the drummer in the jazz trio up there on the stage. Can you just here that rat-tat-tat? It makes me fiend for more booze. When the jazz is hitting the Sauce, and the Sauce is hitting the booze, that brings on the craziness: A POSSESSED STATE OF MIND. You know there is a devil lurking somewhere inside of me. The blood heats up ever so subtly. I'll be bubbling over like the river Styx. I see Achilles and his ragged band of warriors calling out, "Oh...The glory of battle!"

"Fuck glory!" I say to that cocksucker. I have always hated Achilles and his archetypal heroics. I spit on him and his Godly connections. All that war to end up in hell, when you could have just boozed up on some real soul...Where did it get you Achilles? Hanging with Hades and the rest of those cocksuckers? You should have hooked up with Homer and a nice cup of mead. Go get drunk in the mead hall or wherever you lashing bisexuals got it on. I think I have my stories mixed up...Perhaps I am thinking of Beowulf? Fuck him too! Mother!

The drummer rolls triplets...Rudiments I believe they are called. There was a bird at the bar looking at my shirt. The shirt said "Mossimo" and was all squigly and distorted. She put her hands on my chest and said, "Mossimo. What does it mean?" Damn the slow wit of a fledgling alcoholic! "It's just a brand." Birdy was not impressed. She took her hands off of my chest and walked away. Her ass wrapped exquisitely in a black velvet dress. Only one thing to say at a time like this. "Waiter! Double Gin and Tonic...And don't be shy with the limes!"

Those were the days! Celebrations of youth is what it was, all without the knowledge of doing it. I look back on it now, and think, "Damn. Life has been pretty good to me."

Trumpets

2005-04-01T19:49:00.000-08:00

If I could give you just ten minutes of passion
That flowed out of me in rapid fluidity
Would you accept it?
If I could blind you for life with ten minutes of a processed thought
That simply violates process
Would you understand my intentions?
If I asked for ten minutes of your time...
For a shoulder to cry on
For a foundation to rely on
For the purpose of me to depend on something for once
Without being turned down
Shelter
Food
All those things are coming along just fine
But the gap is starting to widen
The space is felt
The search is on
I need to sense the presence of something holy
Spirits are dwindling away
Like rust on those ships in Pearl Harbor
Souls, locked inside
Begging for a chance to escape the imprisonment of eternity
I am Arjuna standing in the face of battle
I am Krishna offering him support
Guidance
God breathes
In
Us
All
For ten minutes you could swallow that
And then get on with whatever your world allows you to get on

When In Rome...

2005-03-24T14:02:00.000-08:00

In the past three hours Satch had overheard two different discussions involving vacations to Rome.
The first conversation involved two middle aged Filipino women in a convenience store, as Satch paced back and forth through the aisles looking for Nicotine gum. Satch's quest to feed his second (Fantasizing about thick-thighed women being his first) most prominent vice was all in vain. The women were trying to formulate some sort of vision in regards to how much film would be needed for a vacation in Rome. Satch daydreamed about a modelesque Italian man, perhaps 19 years old, commandeering a sportsbike down a narrow street and stealing the Filipino women's purses. That idea made Satch feel warm inside for just a moment. Just long enough to be sidetracked into walking back to the sandwiches located in another aisle and figuring out if he wanted turkey or ham.
The second conversation about Rome was conducted by two twenty-something Naval officers as they passed by Satch's lobby desk, where he served as a kind of "point 'em in the right direction" person. Satch felt contempt in hearing that another person would be taking a vacation while he continued to labor with little respite. Satch conjured no images in his mind of the blonde officer on a Roman vacation. There was only jealousy to contend with.
"Themes-" Satch thought to himself. He had eaten lunch at an Italian restaurant just yesterday with one of his wife's friends, May. It was a good time for Satch. The friend was only going to be in town for a few hours, and Satch's wife had enlisted him to take May to lunch while she waited for her next flight to leave.
Satch and May danced around conversations as they dined. Topics that were covered during the feast of Americanized-Italian cuisine included the evolution of human romantic relationships and Satch's favorite "secret" subject: Writing. Satch started getting turned on. His blood temperature seemed to be rising, as if he had just consumed a nice glass of full bodied wine, but he was only drinking ice water. Satch feigned an erection and managed to keep on pace with the conversation. There seemed to be an understanding after these moments of sexual arousal that allowed Satch to rationalize the high emotional costs of physical infidelity. "Fantasy always plays better when kept in hand." That was Satch's practice; a practice that would help keep his marriage and his prostrate gland rather healthy.
"Maybe I'll head back over to the store." Satch thought to himself. He pondered May again, and started painting vivid pictures in his mind of multiple sexual positions with her. Satch could almost hear the moaning of both of them as the fucking reached the point of climax.
Click, Click, Click...The sound of high heels echoed down the lobby, but Satch was unable to view the source of the sound. Satch wondered if the wearer of the shoes would qualify for the next round of imaginary sexual encounters. The clicking stopped and Satch's erotic wanderings were cut short by some asshole mumbling about a door not being opened.
Satch walked down the hallway, hoping to catch a good glimpse of leg and found nothing-not even a locked door.
"Fucking Idiots." Satch said to himself in an appropriate undetectable voice. He walked back to his desk and sat on his ass again. Satch looked at the television, which was turned off. He could see his reflection, and again was unhappy about the forty pounds he had gained in so-called "sympathy" weight in the past four months.

Mauna Loa

2005-03-23T21:52:00.000-08:00

Fornication under the black sky in a friction epidemic
Surrounded by rocks only decades old
Clothes half on and
Cumbersome positions
Excitement
Voyeurism is a possibility but it doesn't pan out
That's fine
She couldn't handle it all that well anyway
I can see the lava two miles away
Spewing into the ocean
Hot
Steam
As I come inside of her much in the same way
Hot
Steam
You can smell the sex
Pheromones
You can smell the sulfur from the volcano
Noxious odors
Fumes of rapture
This is how the earth was created
This is how life is created
Pele, goddess of fire please bless us
On this night
We lay a new foundation with you
The islands rise out of the sea
And love expresses itself on your sacred grounds
Christen us with your approval
Fire..
Ocean...
Wind...
God and Love
Equality

The "Horse" Ballet

2005-03-15T12:54:00.000-08:00

Junkie rinsing his needles in the toilet
That's where life is at for him
Regardless of the costs
There is only one thing that truly matters
Not love
Not shelter
Not nourishment
All of these things come with the hit
The smack
It makes life scream out to him
In awareness
In transparent lucidity
At that moment there is meaning
When the plunger drops
And the needle sings
The blood dances
Rejoice!

My how Sunday always sucks Shit

2005-03-06T21:30:00.000-08:00

I turned in some stuff to a university magazine to see if I could get it published but I kind of regret it now. It is probably too filthy to be read by the eyes of Americans.
I think this blog has not met my expectations of exposure.
My parents piss me off.
My wife expects me to always be happy.
She just called.
Time to go have Ramen noodles.

Fly Buzz...Dig?

2005-03-05T18:29:00.000-08:00

Where's that good time soul?
Goofy foot'n 'round corners like square dancing folks used to
Like swing dancers used to
Crooners that would sing a song
And the crowd would listen
Now it's all about a good beat
"Don't listen much to the words...No."
Well, listen to them MAN!
There's poets out here starving
Trying to wake people from the hibernation
The hibernation of complacency
The only good beats came out of the drum circles
Now machines take over
Kids with candy necklaces take over
Hot and Cold flash ecstasy trips take over
Listen to those words
That troubadours and trouveres sing
There might be pain in those lyrics
But don't shy away
Embrace them and keep them close to your heart
It opens doors
To perception
To empathetic sequences
To a humanity we all need to engage in
Those are the concepts religions are founded on
But they're the same sorry souls that we excommunicate

Hey, I just call 'em like I see 'em

Road Rage

2005-03-05T15:24:00.000-08:00

That's the name of the game, is it not?
Be heard
Be seen
Watch good intentions crash onto the floor like 20 car pile ups
Along Route 66
666
Another number
Same meanings
Who would join the team if I cried out that Henry Ford was
The Prince of darkness?
A hero?
Forty Hour work weeks...Indeed
I hear McCarthy beating down the door
"Communist"
No sir, but I do have Utopian ideals
Don't we all?
Who doesn't want harmony?
Who doesn't want to let the guy come over into his lane?
Gridlock is maddening me
A product of our inability to compromise space
Space, we have no rights to.
Tiny factions
Fractions of ideas that come together as a whole
And erupt into an explosion of inhumanities
I'm a hare
I'm a monkey
I'm a cock
I 'm a dragon spitting the fire of burning relevance
It boils the water down to drinking quality
But no one wants a taste of it
The easy way out allows no way through
Dodge
Juke
Jive
There is no escaping the truth, but we insist on beating around It
When the truth touches us we scatter like roaches when the Lights are turned on
Save us
No,
Save me

Babylon Highway

2005-03-04T21:21:00.000-08:00

The desert is so beautiful at night
The tranquility
Reality
Treachery

And the speed...
This highway provides no sanctuary

Our sanctuary provides no comfort
To a woman
Once a prisoner
Our bullets greet her
And the hero dies

Prescription Please...

2005-02-28T00:41:00.000-08:00

A wide array of network transmissions being received right now are being put into action by the fusion of synapses; commonly referred to as thoughts flowing not unlike the mighty Mississippi; strong and bold, but pleasantly flavorful like a good cigar. There are so many lights being shed, casting out the shadows of yesterday. The visions of a new world are perhaps too much for the brain to process. Too much to swallow, like a buffet of philosophy suddenly becoming lucid in the waning hours of a Sunday night. Where will these thoughts be located on the morrow? Perhaps safely nestled in the subconscious, or displayed for all to see. I wonder if there is an inherent risk of exposure that may prove too suffocating to bear. The fortitude of my psyche is strong like the stantions of a great foundation. But this event is not permanent; Alas! It is like the presence of a great beast...like a tiger shark...circling, killing, and then swimming on in the murky waters at dawn. Yes good strangers, clarity is never willing to stick around. Like the gypsies of the old world, singing their songs...and off they go! Sunrise awaits like large watery eyes...ready to gaze upon me...deciding then and only then if I am worthy enough to take part in soaking in the warmth, the light, the vitamin K. You let out a sneeze after being inside all day. What is that phenomenon attributed to? Where are the great men of science when you need them? Prescribing pills and treatment plans to madmen like me who will be back on their doorstep for more!

Mao's Cute Suit

2005-02-27T21:50:00.000-08:00

Go to sleep after banging your head on the door
"It's going to be OK."
Sometimes that's all you need to hear
To get on
A little nudge in the right direction
Like a Kentucky breeze during the spring
Daffodils and daisies
Fresh scent
Something Downy tries to capture
But will never obtain
When will "the suits" stop trying to sell me my memories back?
They were never for sale in the first place
But you bet a shiny penny that this poem is
There are houses to buy
Educations to save for
Charities that will benefit
Gas tanks to fill
Wars are fought for these reasons
That's what it all boils down to
R-E-S-O-U-R-C-E
And if outsourcing pays a dividend so be it
I want a Chinese costume
To jump in
To smile in
A simple commodity in life
I'm high right now
But that could be dangerous
A low pressure could creep in causing all kinds of turmoil
Better prepare for heavy rain

Minutes Before Departure

2005-02-27T15:24:00.000-08:00

Take place in the day's outstretched congregation
Sunshine
With artificial lemon flavor
Watered down remnants of fantasy
Mastered lucid dreaming
And that particular scheming entrenchment of debacles
Everywhere
Coast to Coast
Like it used to be
When I was young
With bright eyes
But the surprises seem to be running out
Knees tired
Eyes tired
Lost sunglasses
Bright sunshine
With 40% fruit juice
Mostly apple and grape
Most folks can't stand up to the "old cran"
It's just too much of a berry for us to handle

While Listening to The Shins

2005-02-25T17:30:00.000-08:00

I need pop rock satisfaction
Something to sing in the shower to
Something to drive in the car to
Something to eat, sleep and shit to
My homage to mediocrity
Is sitting here in black socks
White T-shirt
Jean shorts
Like a man on the fringe
Like a man who doesn't know much better
If someone knocked on the door right now,
Say...A beautiful woman for instance
I would hide in shame
So the lie would never be told
My kidneys have been sacrificed to the Jack in the Box
Down the street
Washed down with carbonated sugar water with extra syrup
Jews call it Coca Cola
Gentiles call it Pepsi
Osama calls it infringement on morality
A Western curse
A Zionist production
The struggles to set ourselves free
Have locked us in a cell of technology
Books come true
Movies come true
And you can manipulate your dreams
But there is never any guarantee of them panning out
I wish things like playing Frisbee were still fun
There is no where to walk from here
Nothing that interests me
Just trouble
So much to concern yourself with
Then unexpectedly
All the thinking subsides
And you're happy
There's a lesson there
Men and women much smarter than me could probably explain it rather well
Not me
Black Socks
White T-Shirt
Jean shorts
I'm going to change
"Change comes from within"
Oh.

Old Gas Lamp

2005-02-24T23:10:00.000-08:00

That old gas lamp on Bole Street must have stood there for over a century...
That is before Snotty Jeffries came around
All Drunk and foul mouthed on a full moon morning
He somehow managed to release it from the clutches of concrete
Bent over...Foaming at the mouth
The foam could be detected by the weakest of olfactory glands from here to Dover
The man had been on quite a whiskey bender
Perhaps it was the "lemon twist" he had the night before that set him off
Never underestimate the power of citric acid

Everyone seemed so interested in how Snotty
Dislodged that old gas lamp
Like Arthur unleashing Excalibur from the stone
Sir Jeffries of the Royal Order
No knight of the kingdom dare challenge him
At least to a good bout of "quarters"

The mystery that had me intrigued was not how the act was accomplished,
But why?
Why that old gas lamp on Bole?

Snotty was typically known as a happy bum
Telling jokes for change
"No lies here sir, I fully intend to drink y'alls money at the first given chance!"
Some folks, including Your's Truly, respected that in a bum
At least in those days
The jokes were always dirtier than they were funny

It seems that Snotty had a vendetta against the old gas lamp
About 35 years ago Snotty's old man
Drew the unlucky card right there on Bole

Times were harder back then
Before the strip malls were put up
Well before the Olive Garden entertained families of four
Even before Ray Kroc planted his hard arched golden cock in the Bole Street landscape
There was Moe's Liquor Store and a handful of shanties
For some over worked factory workers and their malnourished dependents

Yeah, that's where Snotty came up as a little boy
Playing in the puddles
Fascinated by the multicoloration of the little stream that ran behind the steel shack
He called home
That was the only color on Bole Street back then
And Snotty was fascinated by the shimmering purple, yellow, and green shapes
Floating on that stream
He would take a pencil and distort the colors, creating new shapes
Watching them form into something new every time

Snotty's father had been saving his money from that factory
And was six months away from buying a farm in Pennsylvania
Things were looking up for the Jefferies
Snotty's father had promised him a puppy
That was something well worth leaving the purple water behind

One night while walking home from the factory
Mr. Jefferies was confronted by three men
All three of the men knew Jefferies; and his plans for breaking free
They wanted the money
"Well now...Come on guys, I've been working so hard for that farm now."
"You think you're better than us Jefferies"
"No man, now...that's not it. I wanna buy my boy a dog."
"Just take us to the money Jefferies, and no one gets hurt."
One of the men took out a switchblade from his tattered coat pocket
"Please put that away. I can't give you that money...I just can't give you the money."
A few quick thrusts later: Snotty's father lay in his own blood right there in the light
The light shining from that old gas lamp there on Bole

The three men made there way to Snotty's shanty
They found Snotty's mother there waiting for her husband to come home
"There's a problem with Martin, Nessa."
"What's happened to my husband, Duane?"
"We need that money Nessa, and everything will be alright,
We don't mean no harm to you and your boy there."
"What did you son's of bitches do to Martin?"
"I told you she wasn't going to cooperate Reggie."

That was the breaking point
Everything was going to be shattered
Three men had taken that switchblade and distorted the dreams
Of two Generations
No purple, yellow and green anymore
Just red
That's all Snotty would ever see again
As the monsters raped his mother and took her life
Took his father
And took that puppy away from him

They found Snotty lying on the ground there
On Bole Street
Years after the shanties were knocked down by bulldozers
After the colorful stream had been covered up
It took two men to lift that lamp post off of the poor bum
"I want my puppy you bastards..."
"You just lie still Snotty, an ambulance is on the way."
Snotty was crying.
"I want my puppy"

The ambulance came and went
"Crazy son of a bitch."
"Well, at least he'll be off the streets for a while."
"God damn Carl, what the hell is a matter with those people?"
"No work ethics."
"You said it. Hey I'll see you in church Sunday, Carl."
"Alright then Glenn. What you bring'n to the pot-luck?"
"I think Missy's gonna make those baked beans of hers."
"Look forward to it. Tell Missy I said hi."
"Will do. Bye Carl."
"Bye now."

Ward Churchill Blues

2005-02-23T10:06:00.000-08:00

An awaiting powderkeg of cascading concern
Like crosses burning lawns- like genocide
As Sitting Bull knew it, as Geronimo knew it
Throw it all up in the air and forget about it-
Just to see it fall down again
Another Time
Another Place
Senator McCarthy is alive and well and is pumping through the veins of our consciousness
He's in our universities, in our dreams- Laughing last
Who's standing on top of the graves of young soldiers
What were they sold?
"Die for freedom."
But nothing is as it seems
Our freedoms are bought and sold on the New York Stock Exchange
"DOW's up 15%...Crush 'em!"
Inside Trading curveball
Skirting the edge of the plate
It's a strike out every time for the working folks
And they want to pitch our Social Security in the same way
Equal playing field?
Hold on a second
No one ever said a thing about the Land Of Equality
That wasn't in the travel brochure...See?
"No getting us on false advertisement...Objection your Honor!"
Sustained
That's the word for today
Sustained oppression
Sustained by a glass ceiling that a laser guided bomb could never penetrate
Silly that things like a pen and a pad of paper could do the trick
That's real freedom man
That's freedom
The pen really is mightier than the sword
The US has proved that time and time again
It was the treaties we wrote for the indigenous folks that killed so many
NOT bullets or swords
Just ask Custer

Oh! The Gumption!

2005-02-22T10:21:00.000-08:00

For lack of better things to say...
Oh! The gumption!
A true seeker of inner truth would say, why say them [the words]?
Why are we [as a people] compelled to spill it all out for public view?
"You're a Leo, it's in your nature."
I suppose there is something hard-wired into my psyche that gives me
A propensity to wear emotions, feelings, and beliefs on my sleeves
Broadcasting it to who ever may listen

I walked into the local health foods store with my wife and was quite amazed at the cost of produce. Sure, it was all certified organic, but they were asking over three dollars for a pound of cucumbers! The sprayed, genetically modified crops are under a dollar a pound most of the time. I have to draw the line somewhere. I can't commit to a life of organic eating-unless of course I start growing my own crops. I will need a about a million dollars to buy a suitable piece of land in Hawaii to start a realistic self sustaining farm. I want to be self-sufficient, but our economy almost makes it impossible to pull off such a feat. No reason to keep complaining about it...Because I'm not really motivated to start a revolution. Maybe in another life?

I walked into an opened house with my wife and was quite amazed that the piece of shit cost $400,000 dollars. I suppose that the appearance of the place (built in 1970) did make me feel better about the cleanliness of my own living quarters; but the saddest part about the whole thing is that house was going to sell for almost half a million dollars regardless of the cigarette smoke and pet damages. What a market! What a world!

A Schizophrenic ventriloquist was killed by a bipolar mime today on the streets of Hoboken. A sad day for the performing arts indeed. I thought long and hard about a eulogy for this one, but unfortunately the words are not coming along. CNN covered the story extensively, and my wife began to cry. Supposedly the two were on top of their respective games. Who will fill in the void to these two dying industries? I must say the whole business of it made me a little choked up too. I changed the channel.

Forty three minutes later I was back on the ship wondering why I was there. I refused the orders of the superior officer. I told him that I could not perform my duties as long as there were artists starving in New Jersey, unable to receive proper medication for their psychological disorders. He slapped me in the face and said, "If Patton were here he would kill you for this gross form of insubordination." I apologized. I took hold of the ladder that led to a small speed boat bobbing up and down in the torrid ocean. There were three other men and a large machine gun in the vessel. I boarded the vessel. "Seaman Capote reporting for duty!" I said to the bare bones crew. "Grab that gun there Capote, we've got some business to take care of."

We sped away from the large vessel I was previously on. In what seemed like hours later, we began to approach a large luxury yacht. There was music being played quite loudly on the yacht, and with a pair of high power binoculars, I saw some women in thonged bikinis and high heeled pumps dancing on the decks. I began to get a hard on, wondering what the mission was going to bring.

"Set your sights on the man with the brown suede jump suit and golden sunglasses Capote." One of the larger sailors told me. "He's running this program that may oust our beloved leader. It's simply un-American Capote, you'll be a god damned hero after this mission is over!"

I saw the man. He was African American, and he was holding a champagne bottle as he gyrated his groin into the backside of one of the scantly clad ladies on the yacht. I set my sights on him and held down the trigger with my right index finger. The man with the golden sunglasses went down. "Good shooting Capote!" The Coxswain of the speed boat complimented me. All of other people on board the yacht were frantic, running and screaming. The lady who was having her backside grinded on was sitting down on the deck of the yacht crying. We were within 100 yards of the yacht now and I could read the words "Vote or Die" on the bow of the ship. Our speed boat took a tight right turn to open up the yacht. One of the other sailors took a shoulder mounted rocket launcher and destroyed the yacht, instantly killing the rest of the innocent people on board. The explosion was loud, and I could feel the heat of the fire against my chaffed face.

"Mission accomplished boys!" Said the Coxswain. I told the sailors to look down the bearing of 270, because it appeared there were some people still swimming away. The three gorilla like men gathered a beam in our speed boat to investigate. As they were looking for possible survivors I let them have it with the machine gun. I vomited over the side of the boat. I took the Coxswain's side arm and held it against my right temple. I said to myself, "I get the feeling sometimes it makes me wonder how I keep from going under." I pulled the trigger.

Speeding Tickets

2005-02-14T14:49:00.000-08:00

Some curb-side slack jaw with an attitude
Says he needs money for booze and women
I told him I needed the same thing
Only I'll let the "man" take his share before I step up to the plate
"Sloppy seconds" is the battle cry of the middle class
We'll take seconds to anything to get our piece of the pie
No matter how disheveled and rudely it is served to us
"Well, this isn't Ala Mode, the ice cream is melted."
"Come on man, my girlfriend is on hold, and I need my 15 minute break."
"But I ordered Ice cream"
Eye roll, deep sigh
I bear witness to this behavior
Every day
It has gotten to the point where I expect the worst service possible
I expect mistakes
Corporate America has us by the balls
It used to be, "The customer is always right."
Now it is, "The customer needs us now, so fuck him."
The evolution of the American Dream has peaked
If you think you're not a slave, prove it
When was the last time you ate McDonald's?
When was the last time you purchased gasoline?
When was the last time you paid to see a major motion picture?
All products are pre-packaged
And so are our souls
We're on a roll baby
All the "fix'ns" are on the way
Go ahead and call me a "commie"
Lucifer is the greeter at Wal-Mart
And he is waiting for you
There are no choices
To spend or not to spend?
That is the question.

Murder By Monday

2005-02-14T12:18:00.000-08:00

The head ached more with each pulse of the heart.
He could feel his pulse in his wrists.
"Am I dying?" He thought.
He found it painful to take deep breaths before going to sleep last night
Wondering if maybe he had a type of lung cancer
He may have certainly asked for such a disease
A two pack a day habit will do it to a guy
And a girl too
He gave up smoking for the most part...
Four years ago
One or two puffs over a nice Blue Sapphire and Tonic here
Maybe a week-long relapse there
He chewed nicotine gum to quell the cravings
Lately he had been experiencing pain in his left jaw
"Mouth cancer?"
He had been chewing the gum for that entire four years,
And it is only designed for a 12 week program
If they aren't fucking your ass one way, they're getting you another
Each heart beat seemed like an explosion in his head
"Maybe I'll have a stroke"
His mind had been wandering as he continued to diagnose the symptoms
"Who will take care of the boy?"
"Will my wife re-marry?"
"Am I quite ready to die?"
He wasn't quite ready
He hadn't had the opportunity to quit meat
Quit nicotine
Quit MTV
The last few days had been progressive
The thoughts were aligning into well-versed philosophies
He was months away from growing a beard.
He again realized how much he loved his wife...
Not that he had ever forgotten
"It seems perfect that I go terminal now. Right as it all seems to mesh up. That's when they fuck you hardest. So that everything falls apart again."
Ashes Ashes
We all fall down.

The Greatest Show On Earth (30 minute writing drill)

2005-02-11T09:49:00.000-08:00

Anne and I were quiet, driving in to see the show last night
We drove in from Palm Desert where we had been camping for the last few weeks
Well, maybe camping isn't quite the right term for it
We were living in a tent, with all the amenities of camping...yes, that is much better
I don't want to misrepresent myself
Camping is for folks who are responsible, have jobs, take vacations
Living in a tent is for drunks like me
Wayward madman who can't be chained down by the wonders of capitalism
Yeah, I met Anne out in the Desert
She was there with a group of those twenty first century hippies
Idealists...every last one of them
They all had an idea about saving the world from the clutches of conservative debauchery
But those activities came as extracurricular
The primary agenda for these kids was smoking, snorting, and injecting as much chemicals into their sickly, pasty, emanciated bodies as they could obtain.
They had utopian concepts worn on their sleeves, so to speak...They smelled of the earth
But they really didn't respect it any more than I did.
Anne was different
She wasn't sickly or pasty or very idealistic for that matter
She was intelligent, and I think she realized the fruitlessness of their efforts
She didn't skate on the "ice", either if you catch my drift...see?
She stood on strong haunches
Maybe a volleyball player just five years ago in high school
Long locks of hazel hair
Curly, braided
Green eyes like Pacific green...placid...calm, not the angry side of the Pacific
I'll be honest
I wasn't looking at the potential English teacher in her
I wasn't trying to figure out her politics, or lack there of
(A trait I love in her now)
I saw those haunches...strong and able...
I wanted them wrapped around me
I am a dirty old man

So, they were there, in the desert...maybe five tents down
A great community of wayward hippies, drunks, madman
Some fit all the terms used
But Anne fit none
She wanted to drive into Hollywood to see a friend of hers
Seems one of her "volleyball" buddies was in a Cheap Trick tribute band
The pasties wouldn't budge
They were all ready to crash after a four day spin
"Oh Anne, don't be a drag...You wanted to come out here...Now you want to go back...We haven't even been here a week, man. Awww shit, man- I have got to crash somehow. Sorry Anne, Cheap Trick is such a buzzkill."
That is the period of time I got to know Anne
While the demons of synthetic drugs were dancing
She shared a couple pints of Old Granddad with me
We talked about Hemingway, and Fitzgerald
God
Japan
We came to the conclusion that we may have both been Bohdisattvas...searching for Buddha or Krishna, something deeper than all this mad nonsense had to offer
Yes, something different
She told me I drank too much
I told her I fuck too little
She laughed

So I wanted to take her into Hollywood
She had enough of the desert
And she wanted to get rid of those "friends" of hers
She had only known one of the pasties for a few days before she decided to go on the journey
I would take her back to LA
See the show with her
And then drop her off in the suburbs somewhere
Somewhere there was a Mom and little brother waiting for her
Cookies and Milk, Sitcoms, Reality shows
None of which seemed to turn her on

We ended up at Club Vodka
"Fitting name." I told Anne
We went in and I sat at the bar
She found her friend
Introductions were done properly
And the girls caught up with one another
I caught up with some gin
tonic
limes
chilled
The Rocks
Mmmmmm

The band started
"Cheap Chick"
Was the name...Hot pink, big black boots, bleach blonde hair
I may have gotten an erection from the over stimulation
It all sounded fine to me
Just fine
Good gin
and Anne was showing a little leg
Her feet were still dirty from the desert
I loved the contrast of beauty and dirt
Perfect for LA

When the show ended
We headed to the Days Inn
Just down the road a little ways
Both of us a bit drunk
I took a bath
While Anne smoked a few cigarettes
Talking to Mother on the phone
Everyone was going to be OK
It seemed

She took a shower
And I smoked the last of her cigarettes
She walked out of the tiny tiled facility
It was the first time I saw her without her hair braided
And it was glorious
Why was this woman here with me?
I couldn't quite make any sense of it
So I asked her...
She said, "Shut up old man"
and mounted me
"I saw you drooling over me at the show, you dirty old bastard."
"Yes, maam." I admitted to her.
That was the night of a thousand moans
I slept so well I thought maybe I would convert to monkdom
When I awoke
And saw an angel sleeping calmly beside me
I believed in God once again
After the Greatest Show On Earth

Fun Things II

2005-02-08T15:32:00.000-08:00

The sun is out
Green tea drank to the point of a fidgety buzz
Lou Reed hypnotizing me again
Like imprints of home
I may be pissing quite a bit due to the irregular quantities of tea I am throwing down the old pipes...
But hey kids, I'm havin fun again
Hey birds, I'm singin again
Hey Elaine, I'm screamin again
AND IT AINT BAD THINGS
It's good
It's good
I threw the TV off the forth floor balcony
I told the liberals and the conservatives to take a shit on the issues
I told my boss I loved him
I told my mom to check her sources before boycotting Starbucks
And I loathe the corporate scum
But hey!
Have a coffee on me
I've got to piss my pants I'm so fucking happy today
And the sun it Shines
Fun!
Fun!
Fun!

Fun Things

2005-02-04T10:38:00.000-08:00

No fun things on a rainy day...
Didn't save enough of that rainy day spending cash I guess...

Now everything's watered down
The music is all watered down,
The films are all watered down
And I don't know where the library is

I know where the prison is
I know where the liquor store is
I know where the gun and pawn shops are.

There is a radio playing at someone else's desk.

"It's gonna be a rock and roll weekend!"

There is internet surfing at someone else's desk.

"Wow this looks like some good shit."

I want to talk to someone
Not about Bush
Not about Beer
Not about automobiles
Not about stock options
Not about Ludacris
Not about the place we all congregate to in the morning with half-opened eyes
And souls shut even further for...

Yesterday it was raining

I tried to explain to everyone why they should hate "Nickleback"

"One of the better bands of today," they told me...

"You like Creed, right?"

"Oh man! They rocked live."

"Scott Stapp fucking rocks."

This is a plight of sorts, but not worth crying over; I know.
It's just that I want more out of conversation
And there's no fun things on a rainy day.

No More Donovan Songs

2005-01-31T23:49:00.000-08:00

What self-exile have I sentenced myself to?
Why did the turn of events unfold in this manner?

Life's tricky this way...
A constant pondering
Wandering alone
But not a loner

The craziness drops by for short visits
Just to leave reminders
Whispering vague clues to the riddles that transpire

In some instances a maddening forms
Things break while
Vaulting across rooms
Smashing materialistic consequence's
That is where the frustration originally manifested itself
Like a great banyan tree
With the souls of fallen troubadours haunting me
Dedicating songs of their own misfortunes
Leading me to believe I have lived other lives

Whether it be a bard or poet...No matter
I find myself through their own explorations
Questions of my existence brought forth by their own
I stole those thoughts
I embraced their dreams
I latched on like a great wind was coming to take me away
But when it came to the ultimate sacrifice
I coward
I dropped out and entered another race...

I'm a spectator in so many ways

Time Share Available

2005-01-28T23:53:00.000-08:00

Shaking the tree for low hanging fruit is not going to yield a thing.
The doors to bounty are opened for a limited time.

Whatchya gonna do when all the scams are up?
When the easy money is burned by the fires of greed?

Oh, the President will call us boys and girls up to war in the final attempts to maintain control of the cold, cold shiver of cash...
Blood has to spill in the name of upper class interest...

War for democracy?
War for freedom?

Keep stuffing my gullet full of shit

My awareness is jaded by the fruitless efforts of seeking out the truth...

The truth caught the bus to a nice time share tour,
Take a look at a few acres...
Bring the kids, there's an in-ground pool full of other kid's piss
Drink it up Johnny...The wife can get her nails done and you and me...We can sign the papers over a few cold beers.
Can you imagine what's in store...?
You feed corporations with blood Johnny,
Tears, Johnny
Sweat, Johnny
And you can take a nice two weeker to the pool here
Why, there are some great strip malls just down the highway there.
Picture it Johnny
You can watch all that leg and ass pass you by at the pool while junior is up to his eyes in warm blue piss...
You can all wash your troubles away at our on-site Chili's when it's all said and done,
And then, when you go back to work Johnny, you have a canvass to paint those good times on.

Johnny's got his time share
And all that leg and ass passing him by
All that time passing him by

Junior's all grown up now
He's done gone out and started smoking that shit
Thrown away a good scholarship at the University
Junior's gone off to war because he wants to bring some honor back
Show his dad there is something worth all that trouble
All those good times, Dad, when you taught me how to swim on those summer vacations

Johnny's wife is taking those pills
Turns out that watching all that leg and ass gave Johnny less opportunity to tell the old lady that she wasn't that bad to have around all those years.

So much time spent hanging out on the couch, throwing those 12 ounce bottles back
Gotta catch the game honey, here's a fifty, buy yourself something

Junior is gone
The wife's gone
And Johnny is free
Free
Free

And there's still plenty of piss in that old pool.

High Noon

2005-01-19T16:41:00.000-08:00

She appeared so delicate on the stage.
-LIVING IRONY dying in Tijuana-
A rose petal floating in a concoction of piss and beer
The howling of the wolves...
She was chewing gum.
Jaws gyrating in synch with not so shapely hips
Jet black hair
Not Spanish hair
-MEXICAN-
Like an Aztec goddess, before Cortez
Pure, yet tainted by the touch of perhaps hundreds
Scoundrels-the lot of them
And I was no different than the rest
I was bearing witness to the religion that was simply her
Her acceptance of this lot
As if it were a caste
She knew reality better than anyone
She tasted it
She washed it out of her hair
There was an awe instilled in me as I focused more keenly upon her
It was not for hunger or lust
And then again it was
The contradictions were driving me mad
I tried to wash them away with more beer
Which only brought more clarity upon the situation
I fell in love with her

She saw me
The animal in my eyes
Gazing upon her like a hawk circling high above the rabbit
But there was no predator
No Prey
We each played both roles in the stickiness of Mexicali humidity
But only I still had humility
Hers had died, probably years ago.
She sat next to me with the expression of eternal indifference
There were other men in the booth with us
Acquaintances of mine
And they had girls, but it was different for all of them
They laughed and groped one another
Me, I just kept staring
She took my hand and led me out of the bar.

The streets were full.
Sailors, Cunts, Whores, Children, Students, Priests, Dogs
Street kids peddling Chicklets for a quarter
She was wearing a long faux fur coat with very high heels
The heels seemed to accentuate the thinness in her calves
Like stilts that may break with a sudden gust of San Andreas wind
We entered a motel
I paid the clerk and she gave me the key for the room

The room was tidy but dank and smelled of mildew
There was an atmosphere of sin
She took off all of her clothes upon entering
I sat there looking at her, still

Long black locks of hair
Black eyes
Red lips
Small breasts
I could see the outline of her rib cage
Her belly
Brown skin
Black tufts of pubic hair
And those little legs of hers

I didn't want to fuck her
I wanted to rescue her
Take her away to a new life that I couldn't even offer myself
She was getting angry at me for taking so long to get undressed
She spoke not a word of English

We were fucking
I felt as if I were sitting in the chair by the side of the bed
Watching
I went back and forth from the fucker to the voyeur
I looked into her eyes
I wanted to show her it could mean something
She kept chewing her gum
I couldn't finish
I stopped and laid down next to her

She was confused and getting angrier
I told her I just wanted to lay there with someone
But there was no comprehension
She got up and put her clothes back on and walked out the door on those tiny stilts of her

Click, Click, Click down a dirty street in Mexico

The Judge

2005-01-19T09:55:00.000-08:00

The loud flutter of a motorcycle's engine polluted the quiet lobby.

Some sailor in a pressed uniform was loitering around waiting for something. Sailor-boy was looking at all of the passer-bys as they walked in and out of the building. By the perpetual sneer that he wore on his face, he seemed to be in silent judgment of all of them.

Some other sailor wearing glasses walked through the door, and "the Judge" seemed to recognize him. They shook hands and exchanged greetings. "Four eyes" was carrying around a bottle of Dr. Pepper.

From the opposite direction of the door, an officer approached. He was short and looked Italian. "The Judge" recognized the officer and greeted him. "How you doin' sir?" The Judge shook the officer's hand.

It seems "the Judge" had a new cell phone. He played show and tell with the other two, and for some reason he shook "Four eyes'" hand again. The conversation carried on. "Four eyes kept chugging away at that Dr. Pepper. As he threw back each gulp his cheeks ballooned out like a trumpet players'.

Eventually, "Four eyes" had to get on, and as he pronounced his departure, "the Judge" shook his hand for a third time.

What is this excessive shaking of hands?

"The Judge" and the officer carried on with a conversation. It did not seem as if the lieutenant was very interested in the conversation, as he made little eye contact with the sailor. Officers are seldom enthralled with the mental capacity of most enlisted men. Perhaps there was some entertainment value in the story. "The judge" seemed to be getting a kick out of it, as the smile on his face stretched at some contorted length.

The officer stated his intentions of leaving the building and walked out the door.

It was just me and "the Judge" again...Alone in the lobby. He continued to wait. He had an oversized black pack that he seemed to be clutching a hold of -as if the contents in the bag, or perhaps the bag itself was of immeasurable value. I hated him. I hated the way he was sneering at people. I hated him for overusing the hand shake. I hated his whole show and tell routine.

"Excuse me shipmate, may I ask what you are waiting for?" I asked "the Judge."

He turned and sneered at me, shook his head in disgust and walked out the door of the building 39.

Without a thought, I removed my big, tired ass from the stool behind the lobby desk and followed "the Judge" outside.

He hadn't realized I followed him. When I was within a good range I delivered a shoving kick into "the Judge's" ass, forcing him onto the ground. "The Judge" broke his fall with his forearms and knees. He stood up, displaying a fresh set of abrasions on his arms, and a pair of blackened stains on the knees of his trousers.

"The Judge" asked me a series of questions. "What the fuck? You got a problem man? What the fuck is your problem man?"

I removed the piece of nicotine gum I had been chewing for hours and threw it directly into the left eye of my victim.

"Bull's eye." I said, turning away from "the Judge" and walked back into the building.

Growling At Sheep

2005-01-14T14:16:00.000-08:00

"Buy the house before the market flops..."
I don't understand these procedures, nor do they interest me...
She keeps nagging me
"Now's not the time." I try to explain to her.
It's like a vicious cycle.
There is nothing worth counting on any longer.
She says I count on losing too much.
Someone has got to balance this unfeasible positivity.

What can I say?
I'm another lazy motherfucker.
Just like you.
I try to cover it up with
Honor Societies
Offices held in various clubs
Pictures on the wall of military establishments
But when the day is done
My ass is on the couch
Wishing I didn't have to wake up and head out to the meat grinder the next day

It's not that I really have a desire to be sedentary
Work has its attributes
Its just the pointlessness of it all
What do we work for?
Money
Money for what?
McDonalds?
I-POD?
GAP
Old Navy?
People Magazine?
Volkswagen?
Nicorette 2 mg pieces?

Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit smokin'

And Then I Get On My Knees and Pray...We Don't Get Fooled Again

2004-11-14T02:32:00.000-08:00

This blog business is getting out of hand.

I feel like calling it quits.

The original goal for my blog was to practice literary skills, which I have only dabbled with. I have gone off of the exploration route onto a trodden path- A path tainted with political shit and my own constant bitching. I was not hoping to make this a journal, although I realize the benefits journals pose individuals who cannot otherwise expose themselves to professional psychological help; something that would probably serve me a fair bit of good.

I think my second to last post really has me depressed.

I fucking hate politics. This is a weird fact because I am constantly following them, like a fly following the stench of shit across the horizon; hoping to spawn little maggots of my own ideas into other people's mind. Politics causes nothing but decay and it is the lowest form of human establishment and functioning.

I am going back to the drawing board of my thoughts for a while. I need to purge my head of all this filthy noise. I wish I had the balls to throw this whole entire life of mine away and start over. I want to drop out of the rat race, but I am too much of a coward to do so. It sucks when you can't go to sleep at night because you realize what a fucking hypocrite you really are. I wish I was numb to all of this. I almost wish I would have stayed in the Midwest all of my life and remained a sheep. I wish I was dumb enough not to be aware of all the completely evil shit that is going on in this world. It really sucks when you realized everything you've been taught while growing up is a total fucking lie, and that the best route to success and so-called happiness is to continue living a fucking lie.

Humanity is an ever consuming virus that is eating away at the world, and it really doesn't matter who I voted for, or that fucking guy kurleycheck voted for. Ralph Nader isn't going to reverse this downward spiral, nor is Hillary Clinton. I really hate to say this, but P-Diddy was right..."It's all about the Benjamins."

Hope is a four letter word people. We might as well get our kicks before the whole shithouse goes up in flames.

Hop Skip and a Jump

2004-11-09T16:34:00.000-08:00

I feel compelled to expel things, but it has been a complicated matter. My mind works in quick flickers and spasms. I am overutilized, and burned out. I crave drug induced ramblings like the days of old.
Life on the other plain is how I used to describe it. Highness. Purity. What has it all boiled down to?
I entertain myself by crying out to others. "Look at me! The kingdom jester, with so many bells ringing me into oblivion!"
I worry for humanity, for it has been left on the side of the road to decompose like an opossum in the hot summers of Kentucky. Politics blind us. Whatever happened to virtue? Whatever happened to integrity? I read Plato...who the hell do I think I am?
I won't alienate my roots, but I will question them to the grave! I won't hide from change but I will curse it initially. Things take time to get figured out. Insight is never automatic. Who is anyone to judge anyone? Nothing living is infallible. I have played so many roles in my life without ever knowing what they were. Every time I turned a corner I found myself trying to escape. Being an individual is important to me, so I have to remove myself from every establishment.

Religion
Politics
Unions
Race
Ethnicities

All of these things add up to one giant mind fuck after another. I want to spew vomit from my bowels. All the vile I am being fed, and have been fed by media savvy, politically correct, whores and press junkies who feed off of attention like a 6 year old with oppositionally defiant disorder drive me to crave pills, smoke, and booze. Who wants to be truly conscience in days like this?

The Red and the Blue

2004-11-09T10:29:00.000-08:00

Why I hate things like this.

I wish I had something clever to say about the state of the union...or shall I say division?

Red and blue! Humbug to all of it!

I find it rather absurd that people are actually pondering the thought of immigration because George Bush will remain the President. I find it disturbing that individuals have committed suicide for the same reason.

I wonder what the outcome would have been if Americans would have decided to quit, and just move to Canada during the Great Depression. "Let's pack it all up kids, because its just too tough to endure." Bullshit.

To those of you who "lost:" How much did you really invest into this campaign besides paying eight dollars to see Fahrenheit 911? So many individuals who have this overwhelming pride in the casting of a ballot, but there is so much more that has to be achieved for your ballot to count. It's like the Cracker song Get Off This, "If you want to change the world, shut your mouth and start this minute." The only thing I ask, as someone who considers themselves a responsible member of society, is get educated on the stand you are going to take. I saw multitudes of misinformed people marching against the war in Iraq, but were they marching for the sake of marching? Please, if you consider yourself a real liberal, check this out...see who represents US in the eyes of a conservative.

My submarine pulled into Olympia, Washington in 2000, and while I was standing guard a few dozen protesters approached me. They were all trying to serve the best of intentions, but their miseducation conjured up unintelligible remarks and questions. They were protesting the use of nuclear weapons in the presence of a ship that is not outfitted with such a thing. They protested the fact that women did not serve on submarines, when the United States Navy has been exploring submarine designs to make such a thing possible. Every time they asked a question, I was able to answer it in a way that proved their protest useless. Silence started to ensue, and the final comment was, "Hey man, we're not against you, we're just against what this vessel stands for." I invited them on for a tour, so maybe they could better understand, and perhaps the next time the submarine pulls into their city, they can organize a better argument.

Personally, I found this entire election process an aggravation; like so many boils on my backside. Individuals acquainting themselves into political jargon after watching too many hours of cable news. Underachievers looking to their favorite rocks stars and celebrities for a vision, a guide to lead them to the truth. Self proclaimed foreign relations experts who believe everything they read on the World-Wide Web, only if it caters to their own ideological agendas. So many Americans, settling for lies...from both sides of the spectrum; justifying them if their candidate told them; condemning them if they fell from the lips of the other side. It seems to me that whichever side you voted for, you were settling for the best of the worst.

I find it fascinating how personal this election was. One may have described 2004 as America's Cold Civil War. I believe it quite possible that friendships were extinguished due to differences shared on behalf of who was Red and who was Blue. Now there will be comments like, "Geez, we can't go on vacation there, its a red state." "No son, you will not go to the University of Michigan on a football scholarship, that's a blue state!" Come on people...wake the fuck up, you are all very ridiculous, and if you realized the long term impact this very kind of logic will have on humanity, you would suck it up and get along with your lives once again! I am fed up with our separatist mentality! Liberals are just as guilty as conservatives. Nothing for the greater good will ever be achieved until ALL people wake up from their self contained life of being a consumer and fight for what a democracy really stands for. Pericles is weeping in Hades, because the United States is toting itself as the authority on world democracy.

To say the only reason "four more years" is a reality is based on the fact that people in the red states are simple-minded faith-based Puritans who cannot conceive the intricate, complicated reasonings of a democrat are sophomoric at best. One moral I learned from my Mid-Western simpleton parents was not to be a sore loser. I suppose these heathen values are not taught in states such as California or New York.

I realize that there would be no difference in conservative behavior had Kerry pulled through this year. We would probably bear witness to an uprising in white collar depression due to their tax cuts being taken away. Big industry cronies would weep due to the environmental constrictions being placed on their earth destroying facilities once again. Evangelical Christians may have immigrated to Guyana and drank arsenic laced Kool Aid. Old White men would continue to believe that a woman's body is something that they should have jurisdiction over.

Whatever the case is, or will be people...the important thing is that the earth is still on an axis revolving, and there is still a little bit of time to accomplish positive leverage in the arena of change. Quit whimpering and whining. If YOU want something done, the best policy is to start it yourself. This is yet another lesson my right-winged fascist Christian family taught me. I am studying to be a social worker, so you could probably guess what side of the fence I hang out on.

San Diego

2004-10-29T01:42:00.000-07:00

Ah, the sweet smell of rotten life rustles throughout the hemispheres, whispering sweet nothings into the nooks of hearts and souls. Like blind rats leading the charge against fidelity and time freezes for them to brandish rusty swords at the wake of a battle. So many casualties of good intentions, led astray by the constant flux of evolution. Brand new inquires made about fools and gods, rights and wrongs, all of them shades of gray left unfounded by a moonless night. Fighting for the protection of frivolous pursuits and rotund nihilisms, wilted at every corner by the likes of the very individuals who brought us to our knees. Squirming are the guts of so many innocent patriarchs who once had a voice that could shatter all levels of the atmosphere, like so many angels heading the call of Gabrielle's trumpet. "I play the trumpet, but I don't play that ska shit." Those were the words he spoke to me on the beach that night, as I sat quietly aware that I was passing on to a new level of awareness. There were growling girls looking for abuse at the hands of hairy-knuckled beasts...Beasts who ate flesh from the bones of dying ideals. I whole heartedly believed in all that was occurring to me, outside of a cathouse with mere adolescents, salivating over remarks I made about William S. Burroughs. They cared enough only to seem like they knew what I was trying to convey, not even grasping a breath of literal comprehension. This is my plight...For understanding, a mutual fervor, a glance into the depths of my sanctity, perhaps a sign that my thoughts are not all in vain. The cool breeze off of an icy Pacific, seals barking, and sailors returning to the ships with beer stained souvenirs and memories to make their mother's blush. I called my mother after one of those very bewitched nights, Me dancing...Thoughts and body possessed by a self constructed identity. Waking to the howling of shit hearders and foul mouthed lunatics, getting caught masturbating by some kid from Puerto Rico, and continuing on until the night swallowed me whole. I grasped so desperately on romanticsized thoughts. Cultures are more real when read about and pondered on, because when you actually make it to the experience, they have already been watered down by frat-boys who can't handel their booze well enough to get on. I was on the train with black girls, secretly in love with their plight and their shapely bodies. Lips that were made to suck on, eyes that were made to stare into for weeks upon weeks, but to never fully understand. I tried to get in on their jokes and direct smiles in their direction, they were kind enough to return the gesture but not interested in a night of naked rapture. Set my soul free from this addiction of fantasy. I would be walking those streets, invisible, except to homeless Mexican mothers, praying to Mary for a reunion with her son who passed on. She reached out to me, stirring my soul into riddled guilt. I may have fallen if not for a hand rail to catch my balance. There were bag ladies propositioning us boys out there, we laughed at them when we should have been shedding tears, because we were off to the Pub for some excess. Drunk by noon, and down by four. Bring on the senoritas 12 hours later in Tijuana, pissing and coughing in the streets with painted donkeys and sombreros. Cheap beer never tasted any worse than that. I talked to a hooker for hours about love, and being in love. She must have wanted to kill me, but lucky me: She only stole my hat.

All of My Rivals Will See What I Have in Store

2004-10-28T09:56:00.000-07:00

My father never tried to "motivate" me to clean dog feces from our yard when I was growing up. It was something that had to be done if I wanted to keep my dog.

It seems Americans need more motivation than what it should logically take to get the job done.

I am totally against the idea of managing people.

A manager's duty is not to unlock some secret box within a lazy individual's psyche and open the motivation within the individual. I will not waste valuable energy trying to paint a picture for someone of how glorious it would be if they would just do their job.

Could you imagine what the outcome of World War II would have been had Americans been as whiny and lazy as they are in this day and age?

I tell you people, geography class would have been a lot easier to pass, because Europe would have been Germany.

I think we should clone people.

We could clone General Patton and have him stick his combat boot up the ass of present day American mentality.

"Take the hill boys! Your mommy might cry when you get sent home in a box, but God damn it! There are fascists to kill!"

Fly Away to a Shrink Near You

2004-10-18T20:38:00.000-07:00

There's no fucking focus today.

This is the first fifteen minutes I could devote to my blog since my last post.

I am burned out. I need a vacation within myself. I'm not talking about going away to sight-see, reunite with old pals, or lay on a beach and tan my gut (which has gotten bigger since the last time I "spoke" to everyone). I need to trip on in to where my soul is at and pay a visit.

"Hi me."

"Hi there Sauce, how are you today?"

"I'm tense man! I'm wrapped as tight as the fucking belt feels around your waist line right now!"

"Sorry to hear about that buddy. Let's talk."

Yeah! That's me, people of the Blog community: Saucy Gillespie. The man who writes dialogue to himself on a Blog site; fun in the sun indeed!

So, while my efforts-however non-intentional, to become more Buddha-like have resulted in physical resemblance (see the happy-god), my spiritual awakening has been put off due to excess noise in my head. I hope I am able to sleep tonight.

I love you humanity. I really mean that, no matter what anyone thinks when reading this. You have sent me through the fucking ringer of mental chaos, which after I had conquered it...Made me feel really fucking awesome. It was like doing drugs.
Thanks for bringing that feeling back after so many years of withdraw!

I am going to vegetate now. I will get back to this. The Rambler will continue..."I've been this way ten years to the day."

Audi G's

She'll Ride a Bike One Day

2004-10-07T17:01:00.000-07:00

If not on earth-
Than in heaven...
She'll ride a bike one day

As long as she wants it,
She certainly deserves it.

You're all the evidence they need
There's some good in this world...
It all has to do with clarity
And licorice tea.

Who planted the seeds
That blossomed into you?
A beautiful 21 grams is all it has to be

Mischief and Melancholy-
She says she lives in a dichotomy.
There is no irony that she lives
In the City of Angels....

The Day the Fools Left...

2004-10-07T13:11:00.000-07:00

Ah...Glorious Morning!

I am listening to Camper Van Beethoven as my office cronies are out having their office golf outing. It is such a choice day. We are operating at a bare bones minimum, so there is no whining, no emergencies, no blah...blah...blah all day long.

You may ask yourself, "Why is Saucy not gracing the fairway with his presence today?"

Well, members of the blog community, I volunteered to hold the fort down...For the sake of moral, for the sake of service, and most importantly, for my own peace of mind. I don't play golf anyway. I don't think my attention span is conducive to playing an entire 18 holes of golf. I can barely sit through a game of spades.

I have a nice mix of music funneling through the media player. I have been able to amass a fair collection of music since the thieves left me the victim so many months ago.
Here is a taste of my smorgasbord of musical delights:

De La Soul
Radiohead
Pearl Jam
Badly Drawn Boy
Camper Van Beethoven
Led Zeppelin
Public Enemy
the Black Crowes
Elliot Smith
the Who
Blind Melon
Guns and Roses
David Bowie
Neil Young

I have really missed getting on here and just letting it all pour out. I have even missed reading Sandra's blog the last few days which is like a recovering heroin addict missing out on his morning methadone fix.

My wife and I have been talking about going to Kentucky for a while. It seems like Hawaii's cost of living is a severe push factor for relocation. My "kin folk" are in the Bluegrass State, and we have been thinking that having them around the new addition will be a grand(parent) kind of deal. I guess it all looks good on paper, so to speak. I have to admit I am going to miss this great rock. I have really made a point to notice things that the Midwest is not going to offer when I leave. There have been so many rainbows lately. I hope to one day return here and raise some hell: Saucy style.

I have decided I will not be shaving or cutting my hair once I get out of the military. To a civilian this may seem a bit sophomoric in philosophy, but I really feel the need to let it all hang out. My wife will probably not approve, but I can see how long I can get away with putting typical military grooming rituals to the wayside.

I am feeling sentimental, so I am going to make an exception to my staunch rules of blogging and send some shout outs!

It was nice hearing from Jaya the other day. I keep thinking of you sitting on the curb with your head placed in your knees, sad to leave your familiar street. You really painted a picture in my head, that has never left. I relish thoughts like that. That is great writing...When you can get into someone's guts and disturb them, or make them sad...Just with words. Wonderful!

Adam, thanks for your uplifting comments. I think your first post on my blog was probably the best compliment I have ever received in regards to my writing. As for the spawn of my loins becoming the next Thoreau, I can only hope.

Sandra, you're on the list, so you know how I feel. You are my soul-sister. I think about you a lot, and wonder what every day is offering you, with great hope that the offers are as grand as you are a person. I find it odd that I can feel this way about a person I have never physically met, but you put it all down for me to read, so I guess it's not that odd. Good luck with finding some good "support," if you catch my drift.

Well, I am going to drink some Cranberry Juice cocktail, and probably have a big fat plug of chew. I can only foresee another blog in today's wonderful future.

Rock on people of the world. Rock on!

2004-10-03T15:00:00.000-07:00

The Bambino

I Know When to Go Out...I Know When to Stay In...Get Things Done

2004-09-28T11:53:00.000-07:00

I am busy like the dickens.

If I here another Blink-182 song in the next 72 hours, I am afraid I may literally lose my mind. I work with dorks, and they like shitty music.
What is it with lame-ass pop/punk?
Of all the avenues of music, punk rock was suppose to be protected from wack ass shit bags like Good Charlotte (whose name was stolen from the title of a song by a REAL punk band...)
Sum 41 needs to be subtracted by the same number.
Blink 182 sucks.
Hey guys, it takes more than mummy's hair gel and a big chained-wallet tucked in some baggy-assed pants to be punk rock. Go talk to Glen Danzig about what punk rock is suppose to be. Don't get me wrong, you don't have to worship Satan to be punk rock, but we have to find a line to draw somewhere.

Limp Biscuit is also rotten, and listened to frequently by the men I work with.
Fred Durst should have his 1st Amendment Right revoked.

The First Amendment should be amended. The revision shall go as such:

Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances. However, free expression will be abridged for Fred Durst, who has proven to the people of this great union that he has no skills and he is a sorry ass poseur.

Anyway...I am running this social work club, and I have no idea what is going on. I had no time to transition. We held the "election" the last day of the Spring semester, and wham bam thank you maam, fall is here, and I have no idea what is going on. I suppose it will all come in time. We will be conducting a Thanksgiving food drive this semester, which is great for the community. There seem to be a lot of really cool people helping out.

The best news is that I saw my baby for the first time yesterday. It was truly amazing to see a little, inch long Saucy squirming around in my wife's uterus. In fact, I can safely say the experience fucking rocked hard! Ultra-sound gets the Gillespie seal of approval as one of the ultimate inventions that man kind has ever created. This daddy business is going to be so sweet. I am going to have the coolest baby on the planet, so to anyone who may have thought their kid was cool, you are shit out of luck. There's a new sheriff in town.
The little tadpole is only ten and a half weeks old right now. There is no way to tell what sex it is. I can't wait until it can hear (I think around 26 weeks). We are going to be rocking out. I am going to go dig up the classical music, but the baby is going to get rock and roll like vitamins. I think high dosages of Sly and the Family Stone will enhance a fine development.

Simply For the Sake of 30

2004-09-23T15:26:00.000-07:00

This is my thirtieth blog.

I don't think a celebration is required, but I am happy about it.

It has lessened the madness that seems to be flowing in this boiling blood of mine.

Last night I had the pleasure of viewing the film "American Heart", which I found compelling. The film stars Jeff Bridges and Edward Furlong, and is about a teenager reunited with his recently incarcerated father. Great Stuff.

I have had a higher level of anxiety than normal this week. The Social Work Club kicks off the semester with its first meeting Saturday, and supplying the food for all of the members has been a royal pain in the ass. I knew I shouldn't have been the President, but I felt like "my people really needed me." Whatever.

Also the dichotomy of being in the military during the day, and social worker at night has been tiring me. It is not easy to shift from firm, authoritarian leader to empathetic, patient humanitarian in minutes time. This compounded by the fact that my client's guardian is in the military (Navy to boot) and thinks I am an ass-clown because I don't agree with the way he "fathers" the child. Fuck him.

My wife is pregnant, so I am on nurse/cook/maid/duty ALL of the time. These duties are normally split between us, but now she is sick all of the time. I am not really complaining about this...I am very fucking excited about being a father. I don't mind pampering my wife either. I just hate that I have to worry about all the other bullshit life throws at me during the same time.

I told the upper echelon that I am separating from the navy next year. They were really cool about it.

I have a headache, and I feel swollen. I am going to go drink some Red Bull, and listen to the Black Crowes while I finish up the day's work.

Songs for the End of Summer

2004-09-22T15:47:00.001-07:00

Who could ever be so sad?
To sing these little hymns...
To go out on a whim and be the fallen star

Who could ever be so free?
To tell me all the lies...
And then with much surprise, you'll tell it like it is.

What's in it for me?
That's all I'm ever really going to ask you all.
What's in it for me?
As summer ends and we trip right on into the fall...
Tell me all the lies...
Tell me all the lies!

Why is it all so hard?
To just realize....
Peace flies too far away from me

Why is the tide so strong?
We don't belong
In a place that was once so beautiful.

What's in it us?
When we don't seem to ever care about anything
What's in it for you?
As winter melts away into the spring.
Tell me all the lies!
Tell me all the lies...

OOOH Baby Baby it's a Wild World...It's Hard to Get by as a Muslim

2004-09-22T14:38:00.000-07:00

Yusuf Islam, AKA Cat Stevens was detained, and sent back to London, after his flight to Washington DC was rerouted and forced to land in Bangor, Maine.

I kind of wonder what is going on. Supposedly the man who use to tempt us with folk-rock renditions is a sympathizer and supporter of terrorist groups. Who knows what to think anymore.

I try to keep an open mind about whatever I hear. This kind of news is disturbing for two reasons.

Cat Stevens may support terrorists.

Cat Stevens may not support terrorists, and our country is spinning in a downward spiral of paranoia.

Whatever the case may be, it is not good. I don't like it. I wish this nonsense would come to an end.

I hate what is going on in this world.

Things To Do When You're Bored...Due to Government Under -Utilization of Resources

2004-09-21T16:35:00.000-07:00

Send an E-mail to Dan Rather and tell him that he still rocks. This task should not be too hard for those of you who would rather not see the "W" repeat.

Play fun games here.

Randomly type your high school sweetheart's name into a Google image search and find her photo on the first thumbnail. Interested in seeing who I was dating in 1993? If so, have a go. I was kind of stunned that this turned out. What's even more odd is that I was thinking about her in the first place.

It is weird how you can date someone for just a year or so, and carry those memories around for so long. Re-living the pain, rehashing the sexual experiences, kicking yourself in the ass for being such a dork; yeah, that's me!

I don't know what to say about it all really, except for the fact that my feelings for the girl still haunt me every once in a while. I didn't take the break-up very well, and I kind of put myself on a crash course. I was only 18 years old, so I guess I can't be too critical about the way I handled things. I am a passionate person, and what better to be passionate about than your first love? Enough of this pointless chatter!

I'm off to eat.

I Used To Do A Little, But A Little Wouldn't Do It, So A Little Became More and More.

2004-09-21T09:22:00.000-07:00

I don't live with Mr. Brownstone.

I live with a state of mind that doesn't allow me to enjoy life to the fullest capacity. I don't think I feel sorry for myself. I don't think I am unrealistic about what happiness is or what I should expect out of life. I think the problem is that I accept reality in its literal totality, and I am not persuaded by typical human characteristics such as hope and faith.

I don't have any problem with vices though. I have plenty of those. I think eating is the most influential on the list. Eating brings with it so many great commodities.

It makes me happy.
It makes me happy.
It makes me happy.

Leave it to the action of stuffing my face with foods rich in fat, oils, and sugar to bring a smile to this face of mine. I could never eat for the nutritional value alone; In fact I probably eat against the guidance of all sensible nutrition pyramids in order to bring on the contentment I so desire. Give me donuts filled with cream and custard! I want french fries with mayonnaise, pizza with ranch dressing, and double bacon cheese burgers from any fast food establishment.

This business of ingesting and digesting probably wouldn't be as detrimental to my physique and well being if there was some exercise correlated with it. But would you, kind reader- actually believe that someone who gorges themselves on Ruffles chips with Kraft French Onion dip is going to be throwing some weights around the gym the next morning?

I really need to turn this nonsense around. I know better than to continue this type of eating behavior. I am not rotund...Yet. I am not Jared from the Subway commercials in need of some new era in weight loss; I don't require some demigod from the "No-Carb" philosophy to return to earth and cleanse me of my eating sins.

Oh! If motivation were to only fall from the sky. I just want to be comfortable...and buying bigger pants is not the answer.

I am back in building 39 today, doing nothing but watching people pass me by again. It is, without a doubt, the most useless function I have ever served.

I sit in what is called a"Quarterdeck", which is a nautical term for lobby. It is like an office, with a huge glassless window cut out of it. In most places, this type of setting is manned by an armed security guard at the very most, and at the very least- someone who knows the answers to the questions of every Tom, Dick, and Harry who happens to pass by over the course of twelve hours. I contain neither of these attributes.

I don't particularly blame individuals for asking me questions I don't know the answers to.

"Where is room 204?"

"I don't know."

"Excuse me, do you know where the Advanced Submarine Battery Operator School is being held?"

"Sorry pal, Can't help you."

Nope. I don't blame these people at all for asking me the questions, even though I am aggravated every time someone approaches me. I certainly don't blame myself. One might say, "Well, isn't it your duty to become familiar with the building so that you can answer the questions of the people who need your help?"

No!

I don't work here. I work in another building more than a mile away. I come here once a month, so even if I did "become familiar", things would change every time I returned, so that the efforts would be fruitless. Damn the establishment for sending me here to serve no purpose, because when the questions of all of the "passer-by's" are not answered it is I, Saucy Gillespie who gets the roll of the eyes, the jaw dropped in puzzlement, the daunting, "Huh" as in "I can't believe you are so incompetent not to be able to point me in the right direction!"

I love the Navy.

I have to update a change to my 200 the Hard Way posting. I had said that Julianne Moore was my favorite actress, but that was not completley accurate. Parker Posey is now my favorite actress, and I feel awful for not having originally listed her to begin with. So, all things aside I am feeling better all ready.

I had the pleasure of seeing The Station Agent. People...This is a must see movie, and I am not even joking around. It rocks about as hard as a Stone Gossard guitar solo when Eddie Vedder is not forcing the band to "hold back." Please! For the love of God...Watch this movie!

That is all of the homework you have class. I will be here until 6:00 PM Hawaii Standard Time waiting for your synopsis of the film. Please, no late work will be accepted.

Johnny Ramone Passes On To the Big CBGB's In the Sky

2004-09-15T23:27:00.000-07:00

Because He Rocked

Well, I don't have a lot to really talk about.
Hurricanes.
Elections.
Another Ramone rests.

I worked eleven straight hours today, and had no time to get around to the blog, hence the blah...blah...blah

I have homework to tend to now.

Guten Nacht mein freunde

I think I'm turning Japanese I think I'm turning Japanese I really think so

2004-09-14T16:12:00.000-07:00

I ate lunch on a Japanese submarine today, and it rocked!

They served us sashimi, a nice vegetable soup in chicken broth, vegetable and shrimp tempura, miso paste, salad, and the list goes on. The quality of food on their submarines is ten times better than American submarines.

The men were so hospitable. They gave us a t-shirt with their boat logo and everything.

I love my life sometimes.

Anyway, I apologize Sandra for ripping off your site, but that was a great idea. It is kind of therapeutic when you think about it. You probably did.

Ciao!

200 the Hard Way!

2004-09-14T11:18:00.000-07:00

For lack of being original...as Charlie Murphy would say, "I challenge you to a duel."

1. I am from Kentucky.
2. Most people I meet are surprised by this fact.
3. I have a sister who I think has borderline personality disorder.
4. I still lover her even though she is a nut-job.
5. My parents are amazingly still married.
6. My entire family are Leos.
7. I lettered in Soccer and swimming in high school.
8. I broke the same leg two years in a row playing soccer.
9. I started college (the first time) in 1993.
10. I am an alumni member of the Alpha Tau Omega fraternity.
11. I never really "fit in" with the frat.
12. I was the singer in a rock band.
13. I have jumped out of an airplane twice.
14. I have jumped into a cage, in the ocean, with sharks all around me.
15. I regret most of my sexual encounters.
16. I used to emulate Jim Morrison WAY TOO MUCH.
17. The best rock concert I have ever been to is the Who, and it was just a month ago.
18. I almost started crying at the concert because it rocked so hard.
19. Really good guitar solos bring tears to my eyes.
20. I have never killed a vertebrate
21. I was a vegetarian for over a year.
22. I used to go to church three times a week.
23. I sang in my church's youth choir.
24. I don't believe in religion.
25. I whole heartedly believe in God.
26. I have been to so many Buddhist temples, I lost count.
27. I didn't get drunk until I was 18.
28. I used to smoke two packs of cigarettes a day.
29. I enjoy a dip of smokeless tobacco occasionally.
30. My favorite band when I was 12 was Poison.
31. I was in a rap group in high school.
32. I started an imaginary Doors tribute band in 1991.
33. They have changed drummers four times.
34. They stopped covering Doors songs in 1993 to be "original"
35. I still write songs for this band.
36. I have been through the Suez Canal twice.
37. I am a hairy beast.
38. People have been telling me I m going bald since I was 14.
39. My hair line has not receded since I was 14.
40. I have a penchant for wearing hats.
41. I don't like wearing ties.
42. I wear boxers, never briefs.
43. I started writing when I was 18 years old for no reason other than I was bored.
44. My first writing was a poem based off of a 1940's science fiction radio show.
45. I have never been arrested.
46. The first movie I ever saw in the theater was Star Wars in 1977. I was two years old.
47. All I remember from that day was walking in the middle of my parents, with each one holding one of my hands.
48. I just got choked up thinking about that experience.
49. I used to get picked on by punk rockers in Cincinnati for sounding too much like Eddie Vedder while my band was on stage.
50. I once got so fed up with their badgering that I mooned the entire crowd.
51. I like to eat when I am depressed.
52. I liked french fries with mayonnaise before Pulp Fiction came out.
53. I was prescribed antidepressants when I was 19.
54. I am currently taking Zyban to "quit nicotine."
55. I have steadily chewed Nicorette chewing gum for over four years.
56. I hate cell phones but own one anyway.
57. I love the internet.
58. I had sex on an active volcano.
59. The first time I went scuba diving I saw a 500 pound Hawaiian monk seal.
60. I turned 21 during Navy basic training.
61. I worked at TGI Fridays and didn't really mind wearing "flair."
62. I lose pens constantly.
63. I chickened out on meeting the guitar player from Cracker, even though he walked right by me on the street.
64. The first foreign country I have been to is Singapore.
65. I have actually seen penguins and kangaroos in their natural habitat.
66. Food from the Mediterranean region is my favorite.
67. I have slept on a bed which was inches away from a real cruise missile.
68. I have never voted in a Presidential election.
69. I have been in the Navy for over eight years.
70. I spent a very large portion of five of those years underwater.
71. I have never been sea sick.
72. I own a guitar, but can barely play a lick.
73. I am married to a woman five years my senior.
74. I somehow have always attracted older women more so than women my own age.
75. I have never attempted suicide.
76. I once won an NFL Starter jacket from McDonalds, but never claimed the prize.
77. I had long hair at one point in my life.
78. I like to sing rather loud while driving in the car with the windows down.
79. I have a lot of acquaintances but not a lot of friends.
80. I think most people who know me, don't really know me.
81. I would not want anyone I know to read this blog.
82. I do not get into the holiday spirit around Christmas time.
83. My wife thinks I am antisocial most of the time.
84. My wife is the antithesis of antisocial.
85. I can cook rather well.
86. I learned how to cook by watching the Food Network.
87. My favorite thing to watch on television is Six Feet Under.
88. I like taking showers more than most people.
89. I have a 4.0 GPA in college (this time).
90. I feel that most people underestimate my abilities.
91. My favorite place to visit is Japan.
92. I have been to Japan five times.
93. I have climbed to the top of Mount Fuji and have the pictures to prove it.
94. I do not own a gun.
95. I have never caused a traffic accident.
96. The people I work with say I drive "like a girl."
97. I like to bird watch.
98. I don't like to have pet birds. Why would you put something that can fly in a cage?
99. The first concert I ever went to was Bell Biv Devoe in 1991.
100. I was 16 the first time I "made out."
101. I was 17 the first time I "went all the way."
102. I sometimes cry after movies. What Dreams May Come was the last movie where I actually had tears in the movie theater.
103. I love lots of garlic in the food I eat.
104. I am what you would call a "beer snob." I do not drink beer in aluminum cans.
105. I feel guilty when I tell my superiors I am getting out of the navy next year.
106. I have a lot of fear, but I seldom let it get the best of me. See numbers 13 and 14.
107. I love turtles.
108. I will never love another woman as much as my wife, no matter what happens.
109. My mother-in-law is Japanese.
110. I sometimes feel that I was Japanese in another life.
111. I could not finish the book Big Sur because it caused too much depression, hence making it the best book I have ever read.
112. I hate what has happened to punk rock.
113. I often times feel like no one truly understands my point of view.
114. I have a strong attraction to Native American history.
115. I took a class on Islam to help me understand their religion; and to also not be an ignorant hater of a group of people.
116. I have attended a Hare Krishna service.
117. I love college.
118. I am the president of the social work club at the university I attend.
119. I would really like to see Pearl Jam in concert before they call it quits.
120. I found out that a lot of girls in my high school had a crush on me, even though I thought I was a dork.
121. I hate the winter.
122. I hate Hawaii traffic, but don't want to live anywhere else.
123. I have ate lunch on a Japanese submarine (today).
124. I sometimes worry that I may have conceived a child in Australia.
125. I still fantasize about becoming a rock star.
126. I hate the fact that I don't spell well.
127. My Oma (grandma) is from Germany, and she is the nicest person I have ever met.
128. I can't think of anyone I actually hate.
129. I hate bragging.
130. I hate flying, but still do it. Traveling rocks.
131. I have been SCUBA diving in Okinawa.
132. My wife and I own two clown fish, a dog, and two cats.
133. My dog is allergic to grass.
134. My cat's name is Neko, which is Japanese for "cat."
135. I cannot surf, but hope to still learn.
136. Documentary films are my favorite.
137. I often times tell people I am from Cincinnati, because I live right across the river from the city, and most people do not know that Kentucky and Ohio border each other; a fact I find rather sad.
138. I like the old Star Wars movies, and hate the new ones.
139. I once had aspiration to attend film school.
140. I do not have any tatooes.
141. My favorite mixed drink is Gin and Tonic water with more limes than the bartender will normally give up.
142. I need to lose twenty pounds.
143. I want to one day have a back yard like Mr. Miyagi in the Karate Kid movie.
144. I have been told that I look like Nicholas Cage, but I don't think I do.
145. I don't like to be the one who has to make the decisions when other people are involved.
146. My wedding reception was the most fun I probably ever had.
147. I like my in-laws.
148. My wife and I split the domestic duties in the house.
149. My favorite actor is Russel Crowe.
150. My favorite actress is Julianne Moore.
151. I want the killing in the middle east to stop.
152. I don't believe the war on terrorism can be completley won on the battlefield; but the most important aspect is understanding and cultural tolerance.
153. I believe in capitalism.
154. I once told someone I was a "closet socialist" and feel really stupid about that.
155. Racism enrages me.
156. I read the autobiography of Malcom X and it enlightened me.
157. I kind of like Ann Rand novels, but don't talk about it very much.
158. One of the factors that led me into joining the navy was that it would lead to worthwhile things to write about it.
159. I have never ridden on a motorcycle.
160. I have no mechanical skills when it comes to working on cars.
161. I don't like to fidget with computers. I strickly limit my computer interfacing to operations.
162. I think that music is the most powerful force that human beings have ever created.
163. My favorite animal is a lion.
164. I wish I could have experienced life as a Sioux warrior.
165. I believe whole heartedly that the Samurai's code (Bushido) is something everyone should follow.
166. I believe in Jesus.
167. I do not believe in Mohammed.
168. It made me aggrevated when Jewish folks said that the Passion was anti-sematic(Feeling guilty about something).
169. I am pro choice, and I don't understand the Pro-lifers thinking that killing doctors is OK.
170. I am sure OJ is guilty.
171. I keep my fingers crossed every day that Osama Bin Laden will meet his end soon.
172. I can't stand Sean Hannity.
173. I can't stand Alan Colmes.
174. I wish Guns and Roses would have a REAL no-shit reunion tour with Slash and Axel.
175. I think Scott Sapp sucks big time.
176. I love reading SPIN magazine.
177. As a little boy watching Wonder Woman with Linda Carter I would kiss the television screen.
178. I don't believe in emotionless sex.
179. I really hope I turn out to be a good father.
180. I hate driving boats.
181. I don't really enjoy driving cars either.
182. I am punctual.
183. I should be more organzied than I am.
184. I think Metallica did sell out.
185. I hated high school.
186. I really suck at chess.
187. I prefer tea to coffee.
188. I get depressed when I think about what humans have done to the planet and all of the animals.
189. I like to go fishing with my father.
190. As a child, I really sucked at baseball.
191. I cannot throw a football very well.
192. I like to wear slippers or sandals...not shoes.
193. I like to wear baggy clothes, even though I should probably dress a little more of my age.
194. I need to clean the inside and outside of my car badly.
195. Even though I hate to admit it, I waste too much food, water, and resources.
196. I don't think Yoko Ono ruined the Beatles.
197. I personally liked Ronald Regan, regardless of his politcal stance.
198. I am registered as an independent.
199. I never had a hair style that I was truly comfortable with.
200. I have seldom thought myself as sexy.

Sweet Dreams Are Made of This...

2004-09-13T13:16:00.000-07:00

I had quite the active dream session going on last night.

If anyone cares to interpret for me, please feel free to post a comment.

It was election night and I was in this coliseum with Hillary Clinton. We were sitting with the general crowd, but we seemed to have pretty good seats.

On the stage sat George W. and Kerry. I don't remember all of the intricacies, but John Kerry won. After the news reached the coliseum, the loser sat slumped in his chair, looking beat- Physically and mentally. It seemed like there was much bravado throughout the rest of the coliseum.

What strikes me as very weird is that Hillary was rather disappointed in Kerry's winning the presidency. She told me that she would prefer if I didn't tell anyone that her and Bill were actually hoping that Bush would be reelected.

What's even weirder was the strong sexual attraction that I had for Mrs. Clinton. I lusted for her badly. In fact, I could feel that I was sexually aroused and was trying to conceive a way to seduce her. I didn't have any success.

I never was sexually attracted to Hillary in reality. It was quite weird. I am glad that things didn't "pan out."

Rock the Vote!

2004-09-12T16:54:00.000-07:00

Put 'em up!
I don't know if I have the energy to fight this battle. Al Gore is a tough cookie, as you can plainly see from the photograph.

Oh yeah, if you haven't been here, then please check it out.

Do I normally make my blogs too long? Anyone' s input is valued.

It's off to vacum!

Photo Taken Just Minutes Before Tragic Accident!

2004-09-11T23:13:00.000-07:00

My Best Friend

Harland Sanders was desperate for ideas. It was the height of the Great Depression and he, like thousands of other good Kentuckians was facing a layoff. The wheat processing plant Harland was a delivery boy for had already given all of the workers a three day notice.
On the very same day, Harland made a delivery of five, fifty pound sacks of flour to a gentleman by the name of Saucy Gillespie; the owner of a local bakery. The rest is history.

"Harland, I got all these god damned chickens and I don't know what to do with em!"

"Hmmm, Saucy. That's a might big problem I reck'n."

"WHOOO! You said it brother! A right big problem indeed!"

The two carried on like that for hours, so the legend goes. The thing about Saucy's chickens were that they were born with no feathers. A mutation of sorts had taken place while the chickens were in their eggs, and the featherless phenomenon was passed on from chicken generation to chicken generation. No one wanted anything to do with Saucy's bald chickens.

The chickens clucked and squawked in what was just another hot, humid, Corbin, Kentucky day.

Then... In what seemed to be an instant, the sky turned almost a royal purple in the distance. Thunder rumbled across the hills of Corbin, and Saucy and Harland soon stopped chattering as they realized a thunderstorm was on the way. It wasn't long until a funnel cloud spawned out of the intersection of a seemingly invisible warm front colliding into a cold front.

"Boy, I don't know what you're aimin to do with em dar chickens, but ya best be hid'n em from dat dar twister!"

"WHOOO! I reck'n yawr right Harland!"

Before the storm, Saucy had been grinding different herbs and spices for some sort of unknown concoction as Harland and him were talking. He was using a large cast iron pot to hold the herbs as he grinded them with a long steel pole. Saucy had shared the ingredients with Harland, but they have never been revealed since that day.

In the mad dash to save the chickens, the two men were not thinking very rationally. They were picking up the chickens and putting them in the large steel pot. Saucy believed that if he could round the chickens up in the pot, the two men could drag the pot into the storm shelter which was close by.

Things were not going smoothly for the two gentleman. The chickens sensed the oncoming danger and were frantic. The featherless freaks had climbed onto the bags of flour Harland had just delivered that very day and busted them open. The chickens were covered with flour and when they beat their useless wings it caused the flour dust to accumulate into something not unlike a cloud. The twister was close. The calm before the storm had just begun.

Saucy had finally managed to get all of the chickens in the big steel pot. They were causing quite a commotion. Imagine what it might have looked like to see thirty or so featherless chickens, covered in flour and now Saucy's herb concoction. The wind was picking up.

"Ferget dem gawsh blasted chickens and come into the shelter Saucy. It's too late!"

"Ferget my chickens! Whooo! Nawww...Harland, I gotta save my chickens!"

"Ferget dem gawsh damned chickens! No body wants dem bald sons a bitches anyway!"

"Ferget you Harland!"

Saucy punched Harland dead between the eyes. Harland fell into the shelter unconscious.

The twister was tearing apart the once peaceful town of Corbin. The local Piggly Wiggly resembled a pile of toothpicks. All of the groceries that were once inside the supermarket were being spread throughout the town. As fate would have it, five large bottles of vegetable oil were heading straight for Saucy's yard. The bottles broke open upon impact with Saucy's house, and much of their contents spilled into the large steel pot.

Now you've got to wonder. How heavy is a large steel pot holding various herbs and spices, thirty bald chickens covered in flour, and a couple gallons of vegetable oil? Too heavy for Saucy to drag into the storm shelter. Saucy struggled and struggled with the pot. Some of the chickens had already drowned since the oil had ended up in their "protective container." Saucy was giving it all he could to save the rest of his chickens. Maybe no one wanted to buy them, but he still felt like they deserved to live.

In a last ditch effort, Saucy stuck the large steel pole he had been mashing his herbs and spices with into the pot. He was hoping he could use the pole as a sort of fulcrum. He pushed as hard as he could, but it just wasn't working.

Then, a bolt of lightening, attracted to the long steel pole sticking out of the pot struck. The heat from the lightening started a chain reaction with all of the contents of the steel pot, and created a perfect pot of fried chicken.

Once the storm was over, the entire town of Corbin was in shambles. People were scattered throughout the once proud town's remains, hoping to find all of their loved ones in one piece. Luckily for the town, only one man was missing.

Harland awoke and headed up out of the storm shelter. He did not see Saucy Gillespie anywhere. The only thing he saw was the pot. He smelled something quite enticing. He began to salivate. He hadn't had a chance to take lunch due to the twister, and he was ravenous. He looked into the pot to check the fate of the freakish chickens, and found what appered to be perfectly fried chicken.

Harland bit into a piece of the golden chicken and could not believe his taste buds. PERFECTION! As the weary people of Corbin passed by, Harland gave out "samples" of the fried chicken. The town's people were most impressed with what seemed to be a perfect balance of herbs and spices. When asked what the actual recipe was, Harland would only tell them that there was eleven herbs and spices and that the rest was a family secret.

Harland went on to selling the chicken. He peddled it outside of town and became quite popular. Harland soon took on the title of Colonel, and became known as Colonel Sanders. He bought the old Gillespie bakery and renamed it Kentucy Fried Chicken. No one ever heard from or saw Saucy Gillespie again.

This One is For Sandra

2004-09-11T18:57:00.000-07:00

Les is the white guy on the right.

Sandra,
I want to thank you for your compassion in regards to the stealing of my compact disk collection. If you would like to send me some burned CD's, I would be much obliged. I will return the favor in some way; you just let me know how.

You see people; individuals like Sandra come few and far between. The punk-ass heathens who five fingered my music...I probably run into their ilk every single day.

So, while I am on the topic of music and compact discs...I will fill the world in on some of the key (worth mentioning) events of the day.

I decided that Sam Goody was no "good" at all for helping my cause, so I decided to check out "Jelly's," a privately owned record store.

Yeah, old Saucy was feeling pretty good on the way to Jelly's, thinking about all of the used CD's that would be available. There was this jovial feeling that accompanied the thought of purchasing compact discs for around ten dollars. He had taken forty dollars out of the Automated Teller Machine before his journey, and his salivary glands were working.

"I'm gonna sink my teeth into some good shit at Jelly's. " He thought to himself. "The Who" were playing loudly over his busted speakers. The title of the song was "Won't Be Fooled Again."

Ironically enough, Saucy was fooled while those pleasurable thoughts were traveling throughout his brain . His brain was producing endorphins, that when coupled with a big fat plug of Kodiak smokeless tobacco gave Saucy an afternoon high...A high that would soon crash like four planes did three years ago on this very day.

Saucy entered the store and was instantly aware of how unimpressed he was at the sight of the place. It looked like an old warehouse. The floor was gray concrete. The light was fluorescent. "This place looks like shit." Saucy said to himself under his breath. His next thought was that it looked worse than the blue building. Everything was disorderly. The shelves were thrown together with scrap wood and nails. There was no richness, no rock posters, no groovy obscure music playing.

The people working in the store were equally unimpressive. They looked haggard, angry, and unapproachable.

"Have my ideas of a record store been destroyed by the book High Fidelity?"

Saucy had a painted image in his mind of what a record store should be, and he had been to those types of record stores. He knew this wasn't a typical case of him blowing things out of proportion. This place really fucking sucked.

Saucy consoled himself. "whelp, I'm not here for the atmosphere. I'm here to buy some cheap ass shit."

To make a long story short, the used CD's did not cost much less than the originals. In some cases the savings were only a dollar. What kind of bullshit is that? I almost had a fucking fit right there in the store. I saw the owner and immediately wanted to spit in his face. That shitbird was trying to peddle a normal American release of Cracker's latest LP for twenty two dollars! This is not a 2-CD set mind you. THERE WERE ONLY 10 FUCKING SONGS ON THE DISK!

That owner is such an asshole, too. He is on local radio and television commercials and he believes whole heartedly that he is a celebrity. Give me a break. The guy looks like a long haired Les Nessman (hence the picture above). I should have broke the guys collarbone with a good head butt.

I walked out of there with "Shake Your Money Maker (Black Crowes)" and "XO (Elliot Smith)", spending 35 dollars. I didn't buy any used compact discs because a one dollar difference really didn't matter that much to me. I thought I was going to save like eight dollars! I guess on the bright side I don't have to worry about catching someone else's cooties by touching their used compact discs. Not that I have ever worried too much about those things anyway.

Oh, Sandra...I totally feel your statement in regards to Michael Moore. That guy broke my heart. I started finding out the things he was up to right before I saw Fahrenheit 911. I thought his documentaries were so compelling. Now I think he is totally incredible and that his freedom of speech should be taken away from him for being such a shit bird!

Morning Blahs

2004-09-09T10:46:00.000-07:00

He hasn't exercised his body, and his mind suffers because of this.

His cats were reliving the "Thrilla in Manila" in his bed in the wee hours of night, and he is less alert because of this.

He goes back to school tomorrow night, and is kind of bummed out because of this.

He will drink Red Bull and become Saucy.

He appreciates Suse, and her humanity a great deal.

You Make Great Pets

2004-09-08T13:39:00.000-07:00

I love my pets. My wife came with pets. She already had a dog and a cat when we met, and we still have them both. We have also acquired a cat (see No Autographs Please) since meeting.

It's not easy having three pets in Hawaii. Most of the rentals in this state have very stringent codes dealing with pets, and even more of these rentals don't allow pets at all. Even with all of these complications, we have no intentions of giving up our beloved animals. I wouldn't feel very good about myself if I were just to give up my animals because of an inconvenience.

"Why is this an issue Saucy?" You may ask yourself while reading today's blog.

It seems to be a recurring issue at work; guys talking about getting rid of their pets. Today some guy was talking about getting rid of his dog, simply because he doesn't want to take care of it anymore. Why would he have got the dog in the first place? There are at least four other gentleman who have simply just given their animals away. Most of the reasons had to do with the animals going to the bathroom in the house.

I find it disturbing that people don't accept the responsibility to care for their pets once they have them. What's even more disturbing to me are the guys who say things like, "The only thing cats are good for are target practice." What kind of psyche can rationalize behavior such as this? It is proven that most serial killers start out by abusing and killing animals before moving on to human victims.

This is just an example of how I don't "fit in" at work. I could never fathom shooting a cat, or any other animal for that matter. I hate being surrounded by people who find this behavior acceptable. I hate being here period.

Down With Disease

2004-09-06T21:28:00.000-07:00

God bless my father-in-law. Knowing that all of my compact discs were stolen from my car, he bought me a fifty dollar gift card to Sam Goody. It was a great gift.

It is not easy to just replace a CD collection.

Many of the CD's that were stolen were bought years ago. It was overwhelming; the feeling of walking through an overcrowded, overpriced music store, trying to replace a timeless, priceless collection of music that I once owned.

I decided to go with a Radiohead replacement first. It was a toss up between "The Bends" and OK Computer, but the latter would prevail.

After the first $17.99 was subtracted from the gift card, I moved on. I looked for Elliot Smith, but it was in vain. I didn't really expect Sam Goody to carry something so "non-pop."

I glanced at various Doors' CD's for a few minutes. I was not compelled to buy every single Doors' LP over again. I believe there was probably a time in my life where I would have put my life on the line to defend the artistic integrity of Jim Morrison and his merry band, but I am afraid that particular fire is indeed unlit. Sorry Jim. I can't believe I actually thought over purchasing the "Greatest Hits" collection. If the 19 year old version of myself would have been by my side in the Pop music aisle, he may have spat on me. Fortunatley, I think I am very well equipped to kick my 19 year old version's ass without any trouble at all.

To make a long story short, I walked out of there with OK Computer (Radiohead), De La Soul's collection of singles, and Vitalogy (Pearl Jam).

I hate going to music stores. I HAD to get pissed off because I couldn't convince one of the girls who worked at the store that there was a band called Cracker, and that I wasn't looking for Uncle Kracker. It was driving me crazy; especially when she had the nerve to ask me later if she could help me out again! I guess I expect more from people who are employed at a record store. I suppose that is my problem, and I should not expect anything at all.

Another thing that gets on my nerves is the payment part. It seems like every chain store in the US has a discount card that cost $10.00. That's not really a problem for me. The problem comes when I say, "No thanks."

"Well sir, Can I explain to you how the card works?"

"No mother fucker! Ring up the merchandise. Take the money. Give me the change. Put the CD's in the bag. Put the reciept in the bag. Give me the bag. Have a nice day!"

Of all the stores I went to in the mall yesterday, I was asked to buy a discount card in every single one.

The night was capped off by losing a filling out of a tooth.

My wife and I had bought some brown sugar candies at the Okinawan cultural festival on Sunday, and those things melted the filling right off of my tooth. Seriously, the filling was in...Insert candy...Suck on candy...Filling gone. I just got the feeling back in my mouth after a GREAT morning at the denist.

Overall, life is good. I start school on Friday night, and I only have five classes left before my degree is finished. It would be nice if more people read this. I am a Leo, I need attention.

In Times Like This We Need...

2004-09-03T18:19:00.000-07:00

http://www.slystonemusic.com/

Just go there.
Forget about Bush.
Forget about Kerry, just go.

Learn about this.
It makes you feel much better.
Go and see it.

Contract On the World Love Jam

2004-09-03T11:58:00.000-07:00

I don't mean to politically "critique" anyone's (especially Sandra's) comment on George W. Bush.
Bush only invaded Iraq without legitimate international support.

The war in Afghanistan was supported by most of the world community and endorsed by the United Nations. I can't think of any countries who were vehemently against it, nor would I be able to objectively understand why anyone would be against it (except the Taliban and Al Queda).

This post in no way represents Saucy Gillespie's political affiliation, and is not intended to endorse any presidential candidate. It is in Mr. Gillespie's opinion that the American political system leaves its citizens without a drop of efficacy, and is designed to only benefit very rich, white men. Being a white man himself, Saucy Gillespie has decided to boycott all partaking in this system of so-called democracy. He will not be "rocking the vote" this year, or any other year...At least until there are more virtuous candidates running for office.

Look at the lines that have been drawn in light of this election. They split us all further apart. All of this jive talk about the "United States" of America is unsettling. I don't hear anything about unification. The only thing that is audible to Mr. Gillespie is a paradiddle of mindless chanting. I believe there should be marching in the streets, but when I see the people who are marching, and I hear them debate the issues...There is only ignorant dribble.

If we are going to hit the streets, facts need to be explored. Unfortunately, due to the ventured corporate interests of the American press, facts are seldom ever addressed. News is an entertainment medium in this day and age; used to keep Americans engrossed in fear, and consuming more and more products to keep "the man" wealthy.

I am neither conservative, or liberal. I disenfranchised myself from any political party, religious affiliation, or any other type of group that is designed to steal me of my ability to be an individual (Odd being in the military). I refuse to take anything from network news literally. Anyone who honestly believes the American press is still the "watchdog for the American people" probably believes Adam and Eve were the first people to inhabit the earth.

I believe in God, but I don't believe in religion. Religion has caused more pain and suffering than any other institution ever invented by "civilized" humans.

I believe in democracy, but not a democracy that continues to oppress women, and anyone who is not a W.A.S.P. The last presidential election in the United States was an embarrassment to our nation. How dare we impose something on other people that we can't even correct for ourselves.

I believe in capitalism, but not a capitalism that allows a small percentage of people to become disgustingly rich, while millions of Americans go without adequate health care, nutrition, and shelter.

Sorry folks, I was listening to Public Enemy, "Fear of a Black Planet" when this post was being created. I have since changed the musical selection to Blind Melon and have found some peace of mind.

Today is D-Day. My wife and I go to the doctor's for some BIG news. There is something to look forward to. We will also be going to see "Hero" tonight, which excites me. For most of us there will be a three day weekend to look forward to, so I bid everyone who happens across this site a great weekend!

I leave you with these words...

"It's weak to speak and blame somebody else, when you destroy yourself..."
Chuck D "Welcome to the Terrordome" 1990

Ash Wednesday

2004-09-02T11:44:00.000-07:00

I tried to write a story with the title above but had to abort the mission.

Thoughts have not flown very freely, and I felt like I was pressuring myself to write it, thus ruining my usual style.

I normally don't think of things before writing them. When I am writing I feel nothing. As if I were possessed by some foreign entity, I sit in front of the keyboard, look at the screen, and things happen. It's almost like meditation. I used to fantasize that Jack Kerouac's spirit would take over my body, use my memories, and write for me. Anyone who reads anything by the Sauce, probably thinks this is an absurd statement, and I agree...For I wouldn't dare state that anything I have ever written comes close to the quality of my beloved Jack.

Anyway, I feel somewhat robotic. Lethargy has also taken its toll on me. I wanted to make this site more than a mere journal.

I was thinking about music yesterday. Sometimes folks complain about how much money recording artists earn. I can side with the argument in some aspects, but then again...I think music (at least the shit I listen to) is priceless, and some artists deserve every penny they make.

For instance, I was quite frustrated leaving the blue building yesterday. I didn't get out of the office in time to beat the traffic, and I wound up sitting in the great Hawaiian gridlock. My air conditioner in the car is broken, and it was sweltering hot. I was listening to some conservative talk show on the radio, and all of the political jive talk was giving me a license to ill.

I switched the channel to the "Big Kahuna" and there it was.

"Take your protein pills and put your helmet on..."

It is amazing the change that occurred by hearing David Bowie being propagated over my blown out speakers. The sweat on my back had a cooling effect. The sun, which I felt was beating down on me took on a role of rejuvenation. Things began to change instantly.

Glory!

Well, I am going to stop wasting company time thinking of more nonsense to write about.

Canvas of the Times

2004-09-01T16:56:00.002-07:00

Written sometime in 2002

You want to paint a picture of guilt.
Well, the look on my face…
Is that of the effect you’re looking for?
For I am guilty
Of IT

You want to paint a picture of guilt.
Well, the look on your face…
Is the effect I’m running from.
For I am guilty
Of IT

Oh bear in mind
We’re of a different kind
And different times don’t matter
Whether or not you were born
A woman’s scorn…
The races torn…
A white man’s guilt is built of history

Fat

2004-08-31T17:44:00.000-07:00

Fat.

It's the answer to an assignment. Give a three letter word that describes yourself.

Ok. I assigned the task to myself.

Lately, I have not been taking care of myself. I am enjoying my third Red Bull for the day, and I am still askew from the first two. I guess you could call this an experiment of sorts. I have yet to determine an adequate hypothesis or what it is I hope to accomplish by consuming so much of the beverage.

Last night I ate pizza. Not exactly the worst choice of dinners, but I can think of about a thousand healthier choices in the seconds it takes me to type this sentence.

The night before last I ate Kentucky Fried Chicken, which was terrible. Don't get me wrong, the Colonel's "Got it goin' on" with his secret herbs and spices, but I think the old circulatory system regarded the experience as something closer to "wack."

I have been on a dietary downward spiral. My pants are getting tight around the waste and the ass. I am uncomfortable. Recent photos portray a totally different person than I see in the mirror, which I don't understand. I need to get to the gym and get to buisness.

I feel like there is really no escape from the cycle. I know what the right answers are. I know it takes work in the twenty-first century to not be overweight. I just feel like I am already working so hard at other things that when the time comes to work on my body I don't have anything left to spend on it. In other words, I am "cashed."

You may say to yourself, why are you spending all of this time blogging, if you need to get to the gym? It's a fine question to ask me. The answer is I am taking care of things by blogging. I feel that there is really no outlet for me to get all of my thoughts out in a healthy manner. The people I work with are not interested in the things that interest me. My wife, who is a wonderful source of support can only take so much of my rambling before she is drained. Plus, I have to give her time; and be a support for her as well.

What are we doing to ourselves? Our society is entering a dark age; maybe not in technical aspects, but in intellectual aspects. We thrive off of a "trash culture." Worthless music, worthless food; the list goes on and on.

"Buy your Justin Timberlake CD, and while you are listening to his music, wear Tommy Hilfiger pullovers and enjoy Pepsi, the choice of a new generation."

Why does the media and all of the various entertainment industries choose what defines who we are? Think about it. Just look at this presidenital race. It's total sham. Americans need to take the power back. We should demand quality, instead of assuming that we are getting the best that people have to offer. That can start from the shitty service you recieve at McDonald's, and go all the way up to the commander in chief of the United States of America.

I believe it was the great David Lowery (of Cracker and Camper Van Beethoven fame) who said, "Get off this, Get on with it. If you want to change the world, shut your mouth and start this minute." So I am going to get off this fat ass of mine, and hopefully have the gumption to get to the gym tomorrow morning. See, I can't get it right...I'm not even starting this minute. It was also Mr. Lowery who sang "One day, I'll get it right."

White Man's Poem

2004-08-30T22:50:00.000-07:00

Chainsaw death.
The noise was pouring out from the neighbor's house...
No screams.
No dreams.
We haven't dreamt for months.
How's that for reality?
Waking on the occasion of loud buzzing.
Was it his wife?
Perhaps Child?
I saw the Filipina in white stockings emerge from the white sedan,
Haggard with the day's events
Not beautiful,
Not pitifully ugly either.
Husband barbarian, he now emerges...
A giant of the same heritage
White tank top
Recurring themes that make my head spin;
And did I mention the buzzing?
Is it red on white?
Perhaps a nice Pinot,
Vintage out of the cellar, poured all over each other in a moment of passion
Drinking wine off one another
Child at babysitter
Kissing, Groping, Holding, Lusting,
Wet.
I smell something, but it's not sex.
The cat pissed in the laundry basket,
And I'm wearing marked territory.
Hours have gone by.

2004-08-30T20:53:00.000-07:00

The "Snuff" Dreams Are Made Of

Well, you can tip a hat to old Saucy for making it three entire days without the wintergreen goodness of Kodiak. My buddy Chris even offered some up to me this afternoon, and I told him
I was on the wagon.

I was also excited to get a response to my "Mad Cat" post from Saucy Suse.

Suse (Sandra), you are likely the only one to ever read this blog, so I thank you very much for giving me a platform to ramble on. I will do my best to deliver a quality product to all.

Speaking of quality, this is the second entry I have posted with a picture, and is probably the worst entry I have made. You see, I am aiming to be a sort of literary figure, and I use this medium as a means of practicing my fundamentals. At this moment I am simply just rambling as if there were an actual fan-base out there. Fat chance!

So, enough of my wind-bagged antics. I am off to the couch, as there are plenty of politics to catch up on.

Auf Wierdersehen!

No Autographs Please

2004-08-28T00:59:00.000-07:00

This is my cat, Mia...She is as mad as I am. I just learned how to get pictures on here. So please, enjoy. I would also like to invite everyone to read the matter on this Blog site, for it is the reason I started all of this in the first place. Yes, the mad fellow with the mad cat will now join his wife for a peaceful evening. Thank you India! Thank you consequence!
Man With Cat

You Wouldn't Recall...For I'm Not My Former!

2004-08-27T15:58:00.000-07:00

The tone went off in its usual fashion. With his eyes still closed, Saucy Gillespie reached for the alarm clock. Feeling the familiar density of the plastic, he guided his fingers to the top of the clock and hit snooze. Why ten minutes of sleep seem so valuable to the typical middle class working man is a question for the ages.

Sleep...No more dreams...Not enough time

The alarm sounded again. Saucy reached for the clock, and this time he set it for an hour later. His wife did not need to wake up until seven.
Saucy placed his feet on the carpet. The dog was in mid-stretch signaling he was ready for his morning piss. On mornings Saucy had to be up at five o'clock, the dog would continue to sleep upon his owner's awakening.

Saucy ignored the dog. He usually let him outside after he was through getting ready for work. Saucy pissed, and farted rather loudly. He wondered if his father-in-law, who was visiting for the week heard the obnoxious sound. He laughed silently to himself, impressed with the bright yellow hue of the urine collecting in the toilet.

Saucy picked up the towel he had used the morning prior. He smelled it, realizing it would not be suitable for another use. He reached for a clean towel and headed for the shower.
Saucy loved showers. He prided himself on his cleanliness, but there was more value to a shower than just becoming clean. Saucy believed there was therapy in a shower. He relished the hot water on his back and neck. He often spent too much time standing underneath the water, receiving complaints from his wife later that evening that she did not have adequate hot water for her morning shower. She would sometimes accuse her husband of masturbating while he was in the shower, and even though he always denied it, it was sometimes the case. Saucy promised he would be more cognizant of his hot water use in the future, but he seldom ever put forth the effort to keep THAT promise.

Roshawn

The name just appeared in Saucy's mind. There was really no rhyme or reason to it at all. It was a random thought or memory that just turned on as if there may have been a switch available to activate it.

Saucy was involved with Roshawn Cejha some five years ago. She was multiracial, mostly Latino..but also had an African American and European background as well. Her hair was jet black, and long. Her skin was the color of caramel.

Saucy was not at a high point in his life when this relationship begun. He was drinking heavily, mostly rum. His life was not moving in any particular direction. He was a typical sailor, always cursing and drunk.

Depression was probably the main motivator for Saucy's behavior. He was lonely, and when he saw Roshawn for the first time, there was an immediate sexual attraction.

Sex was all Saucy had to offer Roshawn during the tenure of the relationship. She was skeptical of his intentions from day one. For some reason she gave into his desires. Perhaps she had a mutual desire for him, but Saucy doubted it. She seemed to see through all of his craziness and depression, realizing that through the drunken surface of the cursing sailor, there was a sensitive and caring man; A man that may have given her what she needed.

The relationship lasted for about four months. Saucy constantly disappointed Roshawn. He was never available to her when she wanted him to be, and when he was available, all Saucy wanted to do was drink and fuck. Eventually Roshawn left Hawaii for a job transfer and the relationship ended. She called Saucy once, a few months after her departure, but there was an awkward feeling between the two of them. They never spoke again.

Saucy wondered why he was thinking about this RIGHT NOW. It wasn't particularly inconvenient, but what was the significance of the memory? Why did it just show up at the door, and welcome itself into his mind. Saucy may have made huge strides in his psychological status in the past five years, but was still a bit of a mad man.

Guilt crept in, making Saucy realize how awful he felt about the whole mess. He wanted to make immediate amends for his behavior. He had never meant to treat another human being like a piece of meat, especially Roshawn. He remembered holding her after they had fucked, and thinking how nice she felt in his arms. There was times he wanted to thank her for just being there, warm and naked with him. Fucking was just a means for holding her, and he didn't know how to deal with those feelings during that time in his life. He wasn't in love with Roshawn, but he loved her for being there right then, and that was all he was capable of giving away.
After the rest of the washing and regular routine things one does when they are getting ready to go to work, Saucy made a promise. He was going to apologize to Roshawn today.

Once at work, Saucy headed straight for his desk. The computer was left on from the previous day. Saucy typed in her name on a website that people use in order to contact folks they went to high school with. Her name was in the system. Roshawn Cejha. There was not a lot of information about her on the site, but there was an option to send her a message. Saucy selected this option, and when he was prompted he typed:

Roshawn,
I woke up and thought about you. I just wanted to say that when I met you I was probably at one of the lowest points in my life. You are a really special person and deserved a lot more respect than I gave you. I am sure you are aware of this, but I wanted to let you know that I am aware of it, and I was then...Even though I may have been too crazy to express it properly. I really hope things are going great for you.

Saucy sent the message, and felt OK about it. He hoped that she would respond, and tell him that her life was going splendidly.

Saucy sat back for a moment, realizing he had forgotten to take his Zyban. "I'll be needing a dip real soon." He thought to himself. He left his chair and started on his way. Chris was across the office, and he always had a can of Kodiak.

Slave to Addiction

2004-08-24T15:20:00.000-07:00

I am such a sorry bastard.

I just engaged in an hour long conversation, and all I was really interested in was the monkey on my back. It is sometimes amazing the effort I will put forth to bum tobacco products off of someone. You see, there is a deep psychology behind it...One where I do not wish for the person I am bumming from to think that all I want from them is their nicotine laden product. The silliest part about this process in which I go through is that I am sure the person who I am going to acquire smokeless tobacco from knows my agenda, and is probably wishing I would just get to the point instead of trying to fool them in thinking I really care about what they are saying.

Papa San

2004-08-24T12:26:00.000-07:00

The frigidity from the central air conditioner of my office is making me shiver. It doesn't help that I have been sucking down ice water this morning. I take a Nalgene bottle to work with me in attempts to drink the recommended 32 ounces of water a day. I am trying for the life of me to remember who actually recommends this quantity, but I am just going to write it all off to "tribal knowledge."

I am essentially the equivalent of an assistant manager here in the blue building which is a relatively easy job to do. As the assistant, I am at least 50% less responsible than the guy who is really suppose to be in charge, but I don't have to take part in the tedious tasks that our so called subordinates must engage in on a daily basis. I seldom have to make important decisions, and while the real manager comes to work early, and stays after normal working hours to prepare for the next day; I usually come in a few minutes late, and try to leave as early as possible.

There used to be a slight feeling of guilt that accompanied me when I was promoted to this position, as I felt I was doing my cohorts a disservice by not really performing any function at all. When I was in their position, I was what the people around the blue building call a "Hot Runner." I was always on the move, striving for excellence, and a real "team player." I never really took place in the politics that consume the office space, I simply did the best job I could for the sake of doing my best. This style of performance was somehow hardwired into my psyche, and is not actually a deliberate function. I am privy to accepting praise for a job well done, but it has never been my main motivation. While some individuals excel with hopes of having their managers praise them and give them rewards, I want to excel so that my managers don't think I am an incompetent shit bird.

This position has helped me realize a great deal about myself. Through the course of just a few weeks I have come to the conclusion that I hate managing people at all levels. At the blue building, managing almost parallels babysitting, and there is nothing less satisfying than trying to babysit 20 grown men. I have devised a skit in order to capture a typical encounter.

ACT I: A typical office. Enter Saucy Gillespie and Wayne Pearl

Saucy:Wayne, why did you go home early yesterday without telling anyone?

Wayne:I had some business to take care of in Honolulu, and I had to leave.

Saucy:But we had a mandatory one o'clock meeting yesterday...?

Wayne: Oh...Sorry (Stated in a most sarcastic nature) Was I suppose to be at that meeting?

Saucy: Um...Yeah Wayne, hence the term mandatory...?

Wayne:Well, I had shit to take care of.

Oh! I try so hard to not come across like the manager from the movie Office Space, but my patience with some of these individuals is wearing thin. There are certain expectations, minimum requirements that people must perform in order for business to continue. To try and convince some people that, "Yes...YOU need to perform to this level!", is absolutely impossible at times.

This management thing has applied a heavy burden on my psyche. I not only have begun to loathe the men I used to work side by side with, I have started loathing myself as well. I am ready to move on to somehting new and better.

Oh Monday...

2004-08-23T13:34:00.000-07:00

The ocean served my attempts at relaxing rather well. The water clarity in Maui is pristine. It is a bright, bright blue when looking at it from afar, but when you are wading in its tranquil, almost bathwater warmness, you can see straight down to your feet. It is a shame that I waited until now to reflect on such a calm and radiant experience. The atmosphere of the office has dulled my senses, and has me in a resentful mood.

There is something about being here in the "blue building" that makes me feel like my soul is being taken away gradually. Each minute spent sitting at a faux oak desk in front of a computer screen listening to my cohort's conversations has my stomach churning.

Suddenly, someone slaps me in the face and says, "Snap out of it, Asshole."

Startled by the escalated use of force I respond. "Easy for you to say, you don't have to deal with this shit every single day."

The person is not at all happy with my response. "I have to deal with the same exact shit you do...I know; the same assholes...Day in and day out. It's not that I don't HAVE to deal with them Saucy, the difference is I choose not to deal with it. Why do you care that they are not aligned with your value system? Who cares that they think drinking Budweiser and watching reality TV shows is all that there is in life? Who are you to judge them? If you really think about it, are you really any better?"

"...Well, I..."

"Of course not. To even ponder the answer is ridiculous. You are a self-righteous hypocrite who only believes he has attained some sort of enlightenment. If you were truly enlightened you would not sit around and feel sorry for yourself all day. Wake up Saucy! You have a wife who is carrying a child, a family that isn't completely disfunctional, and even though your coworkers are not card carrying members of Mensa, they are decent people. Unless you are going to take it upon yourself and lead them into some kind of spiritual awakening; STOP WHINING! Internalizing all of these neurosis' is the reason you think you are going mad. You make the choice Bodhisattva...Not them or God!"

"Saucy, are you OK?" I heard another voice say almost hesitantly. I turned around and saw John, one of the cohorts looking at me puzzled. "You have been standing there looking at yourself in the mirror for about ten minutes. Is everything all right?"

"Yes...Uh...Yes, alright. Everything is alright John, I was just...I need to get a dip."

"OK dude." John said, not at all convinced with my response.

I started through the door, and as I glanced at the mirror before leaving the men's room I caught John pursing his lips and shaking his head in the way one does when they doubt whether someone has it all put together.

There were still many items to accomplish on the worklist, and I really needed to get on my way.

No Sleep 'TILL MAUI!

2004-08-20T18:36:00.000-07:00

Not a lot of time left in building 39. The watch supervisor just stopped by, and he seemed very jolly. He was about five feet eight inches tall, so perhaps I seemed like a giant at six feet two inches. He told me to give him a call if anything was out of the ordinary. He said some other things too, but his voice trailed off in mid sentence so I could not hear what else was said. I pretended like I understood what he was telling me, and told him to have a great night.

I met the supervisor as I was returning from a stroll around the perimeter of the building. It was probably the longest walk I have taken today and it was glorious. Hawaii is such a beautiful place. It is surreal. The sky is a bright blue that contrasts with the soft bluish gray of the water in Pearl Harbor. More impressively is the way the almost neon green grass meets the sky when you look out across the horizon. It is something that is hard for me to capture with words. The sun was touching my back with soft heat, and it was just cool enough that I didn't even break a sweat. Perfect weather indeed!

As I was midway through my journey a red mini-van gradually stopped across the street from where I was walking. I turned in acknowledgement and heard the power windows begin to push the glass of the driver side down to expose a middle-aged couple.

"I want to see bullet holes." The man proclaimed. I was a bit taken at first, and slowly began to realize what he was talking about. The man was inquiring about the location of bullet holes that Japanese fighter planes had riddled into the buildings during that fateful December morning in 1941.

"I am not familiar with any buildings around here that have bullet holes in them."

I asked the man if he was familiar with Hickam Air Force Base which is right next to Pearl Harbor.

"I am familiar with Hickam." Answered the smiling man.

"You can see plenty of bullet holes in the buildings on Hickam, sir." I said.

"Alright." He seemed satisfied. "Hey can I take you somewhere, do you need a ride?" He politely asked.

For some reason I felt compelled to make eye contact with the woman in the passenger seat. She sat there expressionless, perhaps embarrassed at her husband's approach to asking a stranger a question.

My attention focused back on the driver. "No thank you sir, I am on duty and I am just checking the buildings around here."

"Alright then. Thanks."

"You're welcome" I said as the power window motor started again, pushing the tinted glass of the mini-van back up, concealing the couple. The van drove away.

I continued my tour, now wondering if the couple was impressed with my sailors uniform. I was curious what they thought about all of the ribbons on my left chest. Perhaps the man was once in the military and understood what they all were for. I asked myself if maybe they thought I looked a little plump, for I feel a little chubbier than usual today.

4:00 PM...Time for Zyban!

Passers IV

2004-08-20T16:21:00.000-07:00

The use of the newly bought smokeless tobacco has been anti-climatic. Perhaps the Zyban really does work. Now I have a whole can of Kodiak and I don't even care anymore. Amazing how the tides shift from minute to minute around building 39.
It was worth the stroll to the store...To make the purchase. I also picked up a diet Pepsi, which will be the second one I consume today.

Now it is back to the air conditioning and the passers.
I have really developed a hatred of fluorescent lights and air conditioning over the past few years.

You see, I served on board a submarine for five years and realized how much I took the sun, wind, and earth for granted.
Now I am serving on the shore in an office. Ironically enough, there are as many windows in the building I work in as there were on the submarine. Care to wager on how many windows that adds up to? If you guessed zero, you will be walking away with some great door prizes!
The days keep going by with artificial light and artificial air. Then there are the artificial people to contend with. It's like the song...

"A green plastic watering can
For a fake Chinese rubber plant
In the fake plastic earth
That she bought from a rubber man
In a town full of rubber plans
To get rid of itself

It wears her out..."

Another urge to plug some of the wintergreen nasty into my mouth crosses my mind. I am reminded of the ladies at the store where I bought the smokeless tobacco. They were talking very fast; to the point where they were short of breath. They were giggling like school girls who have realized their first crush on the boy winning all of the tether ball games on the playground. It seemed obscene. They carried on in such a way that disgusted me. I could barely stomach being inside the store with all of this Tom Foolery underway.
Upon reflection I question my anxiety. What right do I have to have these feelings? I am down right jealous that there are people who can laugh in such a way, enjoy life in such a way, find happiness in their life without the constant anxieties that I force myself to go through day in and day out.

I can blame myself for this behavior, this irrational thinking, this quagmire I have dove head first into without finding the ability to resurface.
Perhaps it is a result of the days, weeks, months...Neigh! The years spent in confinement, concealed in a tin can, awaiting the ability to walk barefoot in the grass, psychoanalyzing myself to the point of insanity. I have learned to realize that many people don't know themselves as much as they think. I have also learned that it is possible to know yourself too well; to the point where you cannot accept other people in your own social space because you constantly rationalize why no one relates to you.

I tried to follow Zen Buddhism in order to clear my mind of constant thought, but I achieved the exact opposite of the great Tathagata. I fell even deeper into the trenches as I realized that achieving any sense of spiritual peace was going to be impossible in this world.

A world where money and consumption drive everything. This drive allows human suffering, while giving the corporate slave drivers the ability to justify every lie, every murder, every rape that they are responsible for.

So here I am. It has been seven hours of watching the passers, and there are still five more endless hours awaiting me. Not to mention the possible debacle I face after the sentence is over; trying to make a 7:10 PM flight after all of this over. Then I must hope that nothing happens to building 39 during the 14 hours until I am no longer responsible for it. I have someone who is covering for me, but I have learned that counting on people is like trying to count sheep when you have insomnia. It just doesn't work.

I think another stroll around my building is in order.

Traveling Via Smokeless Tobacco

2004-08-20T14:43:00.000-07:00

What a day. Three entries made so far, and I am really on a roll. Boredom has stirred me. I'll let the thoughts flow for a moment while I try to steer clear of Nicotine cravings. Yes...Yes, I want to walk back to the store and capture a can of Kodiak smokeless tobacco and plug a grandeur amount of the shredded mint like worm dirt between my bottom lip and gums.
Ah!
Sweet surrender!
I can visualize the chemicals I desire so deeply becoming absorbed into my blood stream and being transported into my brain. The release of pleasure would be almost instantaneous as I would almost melt away into the chair at my building 39 desk. The passers would keep passing, and I would pay them no mind.
I am beginning to feel a tone of resentment from my passers. Perhaps yesterday's watchman was more outgoing, exchanging hellos and smiles like oxygen for carbon dioxide. The passers possibly understand my uselessness as a security presence, and may expect me to take on a more assertive role in being overtly friendly. Well, Fuck them! I feel that I am only obliged to carry out my duties as I have been instructed to do so, and no where in my contract did it say I would be conducting customer service. After all, these people are going home now. Aloha Friday as it were. 11:18 AM Hawaii Pacific Time and people are passing me to go home.
Someone just said good bye to me. The look on his eyes was almost as if he was giving empathy to my position. He was going home, while I stay behind. Today I will be like a great battlefield leader: The first one in, and the last one to go.
The ranting and raving has subsided the craving, but now I am beginning to focus on my addiction again, and my mouth is starting to water for a pinch. My ass is sweating from sitting on it for too long. I am beginning to develop a case of hemorrhoids, and I still have six and a half hours of this to go. A 12 hour sentence in building 39, and there will be no getting out early on good behavior.
I drink Diet Pepsi and eat combos.
I have been gaining weight lately, and my uniform is tight around my waist. I am not portly, but I have what my wife calls a "Winnie the Pooh" type belly.
More passers, and it seems they are too preoccupied with their weekend that they forget to close the door behind them.
"Grow up in a barn?" I ask one red headed, acne laden guy who looks as if he has spent too much time in the sun. "Fuck off." he replies. I gesture at him with my left middle finger sticking up towards the ceiling, which has begun rotting due to water damage caused by a busted pipe.
Red wanders off outside.
"That son of a bitch." Says another stranger passing by. "He's a real red-headed stepchild."
"Yeah...I guess so." How else are you suppose to reply to that statement. Red- headed stepchild?
"We'll set him straight one of these days. You have yourself a good weekend."
"Yeah." I say back. "You too."
"Will do." This guy is too extroverted for my taste. I have more respect for Red telling me to fuck off than I have for this guy who sounds like he is trying to kiss my sweaty, hemorrhoid-laden ass.
An Indian woman walks by with her hair arranged in a tight bun. I find her pleasantly attractive. Unfortunately she is followed out the door by three giant men who are not properly employing their "inside voice." They are blabbing about French sailors shooting something or other. Regardless of their conversation they have ruined a brief languid encounter and I hate them for it.
"Why don't you go suck off some French sailors?" I think to myself.
I'm going back to the store and grabbing a can of dip.

The Passer Who Looks and Ignores

2004-08-20T11:36:00.000-07:00

For those of you wondering if I have anything better to do than sit around watching people pass by and then blog about it; the answer is quite simple: NO.
Your friendly (and sometimes not) building 39 desk guard has had a few colleagues stop by for a chat. Smiles and handshakes were exchanged. Small talk was conducted. Pondering followed, with a quick run through other individual's blogs. I am wondering how long it may be before someone stumbles across my page. I changed the title in hopes to grab someone's attention. Unfortunately, I am not sure how many Allman Brothers fans are still around out there.
That is what this has all really boiled down to. My neurosis of needing attention and recognition is like a festering boil. They are both worth noting, and you just want to keep squeezing until the tension subsides. Let this blog be my warm compress; loosening the puss of my social bane until I am finally liberated!
My wife will be picking me up at 6:00 PM, right after I engage the security alarm. We will go directly to the airport, fly to Maui, and meet another couple for a weekend siesta of sorts.
I am speculative at best when I think about our little island jaunt.
First of all, we are only going to be there until Sunday afternoon. It hardly seems worth it to fly somewhere and spend money on a hotel for only a weekend. My wife obviously disagrees.
Second is the fact that I am pulling "security duty" today. While I may be able to leave building 39 at 6:00 PM, I am technically responsible for the security and well-being of this structure until 8:00 AM tomorrow morning. The chances of something happening are slim to none, but I worry by writing this blog that I am going to jinx myself and have to face some kind of consequence as a result. My wife failed to understand my anxiety about this situation, which resulted in us getting in an argument last night (It seems like matters have resolved themselves).
The last reason I grasp speculation so tightly is the couple we are to meet. They are good enough people, but I don't know if I want to spend an ENTIRE weekend with them. The husband, Harpo, is an engineer, so his personality type is totally different from mine. We are not typically involved in the same types of activities. He is an electronics type of guy, who is always purchasing the latest gadgets. I like him. I just can't really hold a conversation with him more than 2 hours or so. This is perfect for a night of cocktails, but an entire weekend?
The wife, Audrey, is a bubbly twit. It is amazing that she has achieved such a high degree of education (Master's degree in physical education) and still remain so utterly clueless. I am still trying to acquire a bachelor's degree, yet I feel intellectually her superior. A few months ago, on a couple's night out to the movies, we saw "Troy." Audrey and my wife had NEVER heard the story about the Trojan Horse before they saw that movie! Now, I don't expect everyone I associate myself with to have read the Iliad, but at least know about the Trojan Horse! When I commented on their lack of reading, Audrey attacked me by saying, "We've all finished with our schooling Saucey!" I was furious. To this day I still hold a grudge for that comment. As if I were not really in their league, just a babbling idiot who happened to luck out and read a random story that would one day be made into a watered down Hollywood production. She didn't even know who Homer was! My wife said Audrey was only joking, and I am making "something out of nothing." My wife is probably right.
So, I am just not looking forward to unfolding events. What will probably end up happening is that everything will work out with building 39, the trip will be great, and no one will get on my nerves that bad the entire weekend. So I should just sit up straight and stop feeling sorry for myself.
I think I will go for a bite to eat.

Passin' Me By

2004-08-20T09:55:00.000-07:00

It's always a peculiar experience sitting at the "security" desk in building 39.
I think the first issue is that I really provide no security at all.
I report to the "post" before the sun comes up, disarm the security alarm by 6:00 AM, and sit behind a desk all day watching people walk in and out of the building until 6:00 PM, which is the time where I reactivate the security alarm.
There is no requirement to check identification, so most of the time no acknowledgment is passed by either myself or the people who come in and out of the building. I have aptly labeled all of these people as "passers"
Sometimes I will grin at a passer, or simply nod my head in a sort of friendly unspoken "hello." I must admit, I am more likely to say hello and smile to attractive ladies. I find that many men will just flat out ignore my greeting, which really aggravates me. Normally, for a person of the male gender to receive a smile and hello from me, they will have had to initiate the greeting process themselves; otherwise they will either receive the nodding grin or nothing at all.
I believe that the greeting process is probably an underrated activity. I find that when I do initiate the greeting, especially if it is the passer's first entrance into the building for the day, that they suddenly become energized. I think if the tables were turned, and I was a passer, I would rather enjoy someone smiling and saying, "Good morning Mr. Gillespie" as I enter a building.
For some reason, it seems that the passers who appreciate the morning greeting the most are female. In fact, women are not only more prone to greeting me, the greeter, as they pass by; they may give multiple friendly acknowledgments throughout the day.
I suppose if I were a very conceited person, I could attribute this revelation to the fact that I am attractive and maybe these women secretly want to have relations with me. I have only pondered this thought for a second or so, and quickly discounted it. I think it is more common for women to be friendly in nature. I see this in my wife, a very friendly woman, who is constantly scolding me for my social shortcomings. I believe my wife would make a fine greeter.
Some companies have taken off with the idea of having a greeter posted at their entrance way. Wal-Mart is famous for their greeters, but I do not think they set a high enough standard for the greeters they put out there in the front of the store.
When I think of a Wal-Mart greeter, I normally think of a rather elderly person who is normally not happy to be greeting the passers of the world. I can understand why an individual who meets this description may not be prone to performing the greeter function at a gold medal level. It is probably some poor soul who has been "let go" by a cooperation who had to "trim some fat" and "downsize," refusing earned retirement. This country is full of people who have been shortchanged by the hands of greedy corporate scum (not unlike Wal-Mart)...But alas, I am veering away from the subject.
I suppose that if I ruled the world, and I decided who would be the greeters of the passers, I would select young attractive women. I imagine it would be a different story if a woman had to choose, or perhaps a homosexual. I can not think of anything more enticing than passing by a beautiful young woman who would smile at me, and then say hello. It would be the great start to a great day.
So, somehow this all leads me back to my desk at building 39. I suppose I could do a more proficient job at attempting to brighten my passer's day. I feel that the impact could be somewhat large. Imagine, if I could make a positive impact in the lives of 100 persons, and in turn, each of those individuals impacted 100 people positively that they encountered throughout the day and so on. What kind of global effects would be experienced? I may be on to something here!

Now The Drugs Don't Work

2004-08-19T20:37:00.000-07:00

Dear Zyban,
Thanks for coming through in the clutch. Not only do you help curb my hardy appetite for nicotine, you also cure depression, and are sometimes even successful in helping me cope with my anxiety.
It is an awful mess dealing with the levels of anxiety that are sometimes stirred up during situations. Usually there is no rational stimulus for me to react the way I do...But I do, and it drives the people crazy.
I had to lie to my doctor to get the prescription. I probably only use nicotine five times a week. It's really a sad state of affairs if you think about it. Because of my current employment status, to be diagnosed with a mood disorder or an anxiety disorder would be detrimental. I think it is unfair. I deal with depression and anxiety to the point where it is rather impossible for me to enjoy things normal people enjoy. In order to really help the situation, I would have to possibly sacrifice a good career. I just try to deal.
I was thinking of the Verve's song "The Drugs Don't Work"
In the chorus the words go:

"Now the drugs don't work
They just make you worse
But I know I'll see your face again"

I have no idea how the song really relates to the blog. I just thought it pertinent information. Maybe it kind of sets the tone. Whatever happened to The Verve anyway?
Thanks again Zyban.
Your Pal,
Saucy

Triumph of the Whiffle Ball Bandits

2004-08-18T10:42:00.000-07:00

So I had to question my own sanity in response to two young gentleman with little or no common sense. I heard their banter as I was searching my garage for small insulated lunchboxes, so that my wife may be able to take her lunch to work...preserving the freshness.

The grown men were playing whiffle ball; the batter standing at the plate in direct line of site of my Geo Tracker. I realize the damage a whiffle ball is capable of inflicting on a car is somewhat minimal, but the propensity of it happening is there.

I have been sensitive about my car in recent months. In May the top was cut and all of my compact discs were stolen. It has been hard for me to overcome this violation of my personal property.

You see, I am not the sort that is so caught up in the idea of property. I am not the crazy neighbor who is hollering at children for chasing their whiffle balls into my yard. I am the crazy neighbor who is in his garage wondering why two adult males are hitting whiffle balls directly at my car.

I thought about the situation. I know that as a man myself, I have every right to express my concern about the ball smacking against my auto. I also realized that one of these men is my neighbor, and I will be living next to them for an extended period of time. Surely someone immature enough to conduct the game in the fashion they were would act immaturely to the questioning of his actions, thus starting a feud that could be long, brutal, and ugly. So ultimately I am in a lose-lose situation, and the anxiety of it all unleashes an all out attack on my spiritual well-being.

You may wonder what kind of neurosis produces this nature of thinking. Perhaps you think I am a whining twit. Perhaps you are absolutely right.

After two hours or so of letting this whiffle ball game destroy my desired level of solace, I started to think about it a little more rationally. I don't think that these gentleman will be conducting an entire 162 game season from the driveway of their house. I figure the chances of them even playing more than three games in this fashion is probably rather low. How much could grown men actually enjoy playing whiffle ball in the first place?

Another thought that produced a calming effect was that I really don't take very good care of my Tracker. To this day the top remains damaged with the eight inch slit across the top. I don't remember the last time I had the Tracker washed. The sun has started taking its toll on the paint job, causing a fading effect....whitening out the metallic green paint of the original coat.

What kind of hypocrite would I have been to make a big deal out of the game that these guys were playing? After all, I never actually saw a ball hit my car.

2004-08-18T10:31:00.000-07:00

So...here I am, and here you are. A day of mediocrity imminates a chill across the spectrum of my soul. It's sunny outside, and it's flourecent inside. Frigid air cooled by freon blowing across the room makes my hands feel like tiny icebergs. I live in Hawaii, but I am sentenced to indoor labor. The fruit of my labor is nothing but utter consumption...a consumer among consumers. Are we all not guilty?
That will be enough of spinning a web of utter depression across the world wide web.

I feel an odd sense of hope watching the summer Olympics. To see youth, people who have worked so hard to represent their country...to bring glory to their people...to forge a name for themselves. I don't know, I never thought about anything like that before.

I'll be breaking out of the cell here soon. Yes, driving down the highway blaring rock and roll out of blown out speakers, and finding myself wedged in Hawaiian interstate gridlock. But it's OK. I've got the sun to look forward to, and time alone.