Archive for December, 2007

She Said: 10 things I love about all you holders of the XY Chromosome (i.e. MEN) - w4mm

From the Best of Craigslist:

First of all, chivalry is alive and well, so a big thanks to all the lovely gentlemen who open doors, offer up your seats when the Metro is standing room only (I rarely accept, but your willingness to sacrifice is very sweet), and…oh: to the ones who rush to assist me when I drop my purse on the sidewalk and its contents - which are countless and, let’s face it, largely unnecessary unless I find myself in some sort of survival situation - spill out all over 17th St. Thank you all very much!

…But the chivalrous acts aren’t really what gets me. The things I truly love about men are all the things you might not recognize as being “lovable” or appealing to women. Such as:

1. The hilarious, obnoxious and totally adorable banter that goes on between two guys when they’re playing a video game. If you know that scene from “The 40-Year-Old Virgin” (”I’m ripping your head off now…aaannd now I’m throwing it at your body…F%$K YOU!”), that’s it in a nutshell. I know it isn’t meant to be, but it’s just so frigging cute.
2. The sound a man sometimes makes when I walk past him in a low-cut top. Hard to describe, but it’s sort of a sing-songy little chirp of appreciation that he literally can not seem to hold in. Somewhat akin to the sound a very small animal might make if you squeezed its abdomen too tightly. (PETA folks please note: I have never actually squeezed a small animal’s abdomen. I am merely speculating as to what it *might* sound like).
3. The stance you adopt when taking a good, long, desperately needed piss: leaning forward at a roughly 60-degree angle, one hand braced against the wall in front of you, the other hand gripping your kickstand…I don’t know how, but it manages to make you look both strong and vulnerable. I love it.
4. The way a guy will use the pronoun “we” when discussing his favorite team. For example: “I can’t believe we traded Player X” or “Dude, we are so gonna annihilate Team X in the playoffs.” I always found that kind of sweet and oddly endearing.
5. I’m also rather fond of your forgetfulness. To go back to sports, I think it’s amazing that you can forget key dates like birthdays and anniversaries and all that crap…but can immediately recall the stats of Player X, not to mention his hometown, height and weight, and what college he played for. Incredible! I’m much more amused than bothered by it.
6. The way all men look when they first wake up in the morning: boyish, crazy messed-up bed head, puffy eyes and lips, morning wood at half-mast. Awww, ya just look so sweet and defenseless!
7. The act of showing possession by smacking their girl’s butt in public. Of course, not all men do this…but the kind I like do. My only criticism is, if you’re not going to do it loud and hard enough for everyone in the immediate vicinity to take notice, don’t bother.
8. The manner in which most guys (who don’t have kids or maybe nieces/nephews) hold little babies: ehhhver-so-gently and barely moving, as if they’re cradling delicate explosives and are afraid that the slightest movement might cause the thing to explode.
9. When I see that some of you suit wearers have pulled/slackened your ties on the Metro ride home from work, as though you simply couldn’t wait until you got home and needed immediate relief, making the adjustment the moment you stepped out of your office building. Ahhh, freedom.
10. The fact that maybe 95% of you have NO IDEA how amazing and perfect you are in all your idiosyncratic maleness. *Sigh* I wish I could date every last one of you…

She

I vanish into the veneer like a champ to avoid
the She that holds sway over my inhabitants.
These are simple folk who speak in tongues of
those who raise pitchforks, those who storm
holds and keeps; they yell at her, reject her first
I’m vibrating between realities of close and farther
than synecdoche. This is all I need to defeat her.

And then shoes are dropping everywhere
while I’m hallucinating farming,
stumbling around cow pastures, hiding
among knees and bones and trees-
The water is violent, I’m cold on the inside,
I see stuff that happens when no one is watching.

She moves through phases of idolatry and ultimately
settles with fusion. I have a hard time adjusting. I’m slow,
like an edifice.

I love you but you took my Mustang

You did right? I didn’t just dream that part of my life even though it seems I have more often than not left behind large chunks of my memory in a string of disassociations but, in that high school moment, you kept my keys and took my car out for lunch? That was high school…

I think we only had one real date; a movie at that Pompano theater…what was the name of that place…couldn’t tell you what the movie was but in all reality that was my first date. You were my first date. And I really remember kissing you, clearly.

When I met you again about ten years later I was floored. You were no longer immature and flighty, you had kids, you were a mother and a transformation had taken place - you were a woman. You had a steadiness that seemed so different than the girl I knew. And I really remember kissing you, very clearly. But then I was the flighty one and ran off.

And ten years later you were back again and this time you helped save my life. You sent long distance love on faith and did more than you ever had to for someone that really only skirted your life…that’s heart. That’s character.

You’ve come so far from that young girl at that movie theater and I couldn’t be any more impressed, any more proud, any more fortunate for having known you than I am. And I like the way you kiss.

Just don’t ever steal my car again. Please.

I have your Christmas…(REVISITED)

Okay world, I’m sorry I yelled at you before…back there, about Christmas. I may have not been in the best of moods when I blasted the holiday into Hades and I probably could have been a little more generous with the details regarding some of the more altruistic, giving, loving aspects of what this period of December can entail. I guess I had a change of heart because

I had a really special time on Christmas Eve 2007

Yeah, I know what I said back there in the other post but, I met a great group of people who have opened their arms to me and showed me more love than…I was dizzy with friendship, caring, giving - drunk with fun, high on people (and coffee and pot) and downright suffocated with love…

And I see the parts that my heart is desperate for and I see the parts that make it so Universal to the world and felt moments to live for and, by association with these new experiences, I remembered some good moments from a childhood that has lately received a lot of bad press in my life story.

And the emotions are pouring forward more and more. And they hurt kinda, up in my chest and thorax area, butterflies, weak legs…but this is how it feels to not hold on or hold back. This is how it feels to feel and how things feel little by little as opposed to only when you explode all of a sudden after supressing. I am feeling ‘feeling’ and experiencing feeling and not just writing about the feeling but staying in the moment, staying present with the feeling.

And I could have never gotten to this point if I hadn’t yelled at you back there, And for that I truly say I am sorry.

I want to thank you for absorbing that energy from me, of me. This helps me release and not hold onto things and allows me to unblock and ultimately to feel even more.

So thank you.

And thanks KC for helping me feel again.

Trainwrecks

Can’t stop to watch them anymore. There’s too much
fleshy metal and cartoon eyes.

Rail ties are like a history of gay buried wood from hardwood to oaks and back again, full of grub worms and mistletoe but, wait, that’s untrue

See, we consider the sleeper car a tomb and I’m done with shoot outs at the OK Corral, the desert air rubs me away to nothing, the Earp’s

caustic sun finds me and won’t leave me alone; incessant - These Alamos, these Waffle Houses, those dust bowls, a prickly pear, some

scorpions…This train would never stop or pause to take on water or slowed down long enough to grab anyone’s mail - these trains are pleasantly

a soap opera of sunsets and womanizers, gunshots and sweet tea. I race along side to rob the coach, never believing that I had the obvious

choice to bring the whole thing down - just don’t make me watch, don’t make me gaze on the blood and guts anymore, these wrecks are lies.

I’m a bareback saddle rider, I’m the Sioux Nation, I’m a waitress serving scattered, smothered and covered lies. I need to tell the truth. Can I tell the truth?

I have your Christmas…

Hello world, go f**k yourself. And while you’re at it, take this slimy, corporate holiday with you into the foul depths of hell from which you came.

I hate you Christmas, hate you with a passion. You have never brought me anything more than drama, anger, sadness and broken tree ornaments.

I see what you’re doing there, Christmas. I see how you pressure me to buy things, to need things, to want stuff I have no right to. I also see how you leave so many people out. Without money, so many people have nothing, get nothing and feel like nothing. It’s a battle of the have and have nots and in your eyes, Xmas, haves are the winners.

Well I have news for you you red and green colored fuck: you’re time is coming to an end. You stole another holiday (pagan winter solstice) and made it in to your own and then condemn others for their lack of faith in your stolen identity. Christ couldn’t give a shit less if we were to celebrate the fake birthday attributed to him (do you really think he was born December 25th?)

So I am here to warn you and your mindless heathen followers that this bitch of a holiday is in for a cold awakening. My generation hates you for the most part and certainly, even if they like you, they don’t care about your tenets, your creeds, your pomp and circumstance and certainly have dismissed many of your rules and much of your doctrine.

And I wish I could say I was an atheist and that all of this hatred and disdain was over a lack of faith. It most certainly is not. The hatred is at the way that Coca Cola turned Santa in a bright red marketing tool. The hatred is for the music that is piped into to unconsciously stimulate my spending gland to start salivating money. The hatred is for the folks that hide behind God or Jesus as an absolute and Christmas as a rule.

I will see you Christmas, dead in the water, before I ever do your bidding again.

(Innocence is dead, childhood pummeled and beaten to death, my heart a broken tool. I want love and caring and that can’t come in a box.)

“What Happened to All the Nice Guys?”

(This article has been floating around the interwebs for a long time now. Reprinted from so many places I have no real clue where it comes from ultimately.)

I see this question posted with some regularity in the personals section, so I thought I’d take a minute to explain things to the ladies out there that haven’t figured it out.

What happened to all the nice guys?

The answer is simple: you did.

See, if you think back, really hard, you might vaguely remember a Platonic guy pal who always seemed to want to spend time with you. He’d tag along with you when you went shopping, stop by your place for a movie when you were lonely but didn’t feel like going out, or even sit there and hold you while you sobbed and told him about how horribly the (other) guy that you were fucking treated you.

At the time, you probably joked with your girlfriends about how he was a little puppy dog, always following you around, trying to do things to get you to pay attention to him. They probably teased you because they thought he had a crush on you. Given that his behavior was, admittedly, a little pathetic, you vehemently denied having any romantic feelings for him, and buttressed your position by claiming that you were “just friends.” Besides, he totally wasn’t your type. I mean, he was a little too short, or too bald, or too fat, or too poor, or didn’t know how to dress himself, or basically be or do any of the things that your tall, good-looking, fit, rich, stylish boyfriend at the time pulled off with such ease.

Eventually, your Platonic buddy drifted away, as your relationship with the boyfriend got more serious and spending time with this other guy was, admittedly, a little weird, if you werent dating him. More time passed, and the boyfriend eventually cheated on you, or became boring, or you realized that the things that attracted you to him weren’t the kinds of things that make for a good, long-term relationship. So, now, you’re single again, and after having tried the bar scene for several months having only encountered players and douche bags, you wonder, “What happened to all the nice guys?”

Well, once again, you did.

You ignored the nice guy. You used him for emotional intimacy without reciprocating, in kind, with physical intimacy. You laughed at his consideration and resented his devotion. You valued the aloof boyfriend more than the attentive “just-a-” friend. Eventually, he took the hint and moved on with his life. He probably came to realize, one day, that women aren’t really attracted to guys who hold doors open; or make dinners just because; or buy you a Christmas gift that you mentioned, in passing, that you really wanted five months ago; or listen when you’re upset; or hold you when you cry. He came to realize that, if he wanted a woman like you, he’d have to act more like the boyfriend that you had. He probably cleaned up his look, started making some money, and generally acted like more of an asshole than he ever wanted to be.

Fact is, now, he’s probably getting laid, and in a way, your ultimate rejection of him is to thank for that. And I’m sorry that it took the complete absence of “nice guys” in your life for you to realize that you missed them and wanted them. Most women will only have a handful of nice guys stumble into their lives, if that.

So, if you’re looking for a nice guy, here’s what you do:

1.) Build a time machine.
2.) Go back a few years and pull your head out of your ass.
3.) Take a look at what’s right in front of you and grab ahold of it.

I suppose the other possibility is that you STILL don’t really want a nice guy, but you feel the social pressure to at least appear to have matured beyond your infantile taste in men. In which case, you might be in luck, because the nice guy you claim to want has, in reality, shed his nice guy mantle and is out there looking to unleash his cynicism and resentment onto someone just like you.

If you were five years younger.

So, please: either stop misrepresenting what you want, or own up to the fact that you’ve fucked yourself over. You’re getting older, after all. It’s time to excise the bullshit and deal with reality. You didn’t want a nice guy then, and he certainly doesn’t fucking want you, now.

Sincerely,

A Recovering Nice Guy

These are emotions

This is ‘disappointment’ as a learned response. This is waiting for ‘the other shoe to drop’. This is a valueless self-debasement, this is wanton lack of self-love and this is yet another self-fulfilling prophesy that I have danced with, fought over and lived with all my life…

These are emotions.

And I have no idea what to do with them. And I have no idea the true scope they carry. And I am humbled to be reminded why I have avoided love and relationships for so long.

I am a process over time of flawed reasoning

But that’s not what I want and realizing that something is wrong with my reasoning gives me hope that I can change this response. But at what cost? I mean, how many more disappointments must I conjure and how many loves must I lose? Is there a proper paradigm to all of this and if there is, how do i know which one is the right one.

There is so much confusion in me. I have no idea what the proper response would be to the situation that I face. And is a response exactly what ruins things all along? Could it be that by trying to do something I am actually undermining my own efforts and exposing the little boy in me that is so unsure and so confused. His response may be the perceived weakness that always gets a bad response from the one I seek.

What the fuck are you talking about

I’m talking about the pattern that has haunted me all my life. I’m talking about dread, sadness and mis-trust for my central being. I’m talking about a world created by an eight year old where nothing can be trusted beside the worst possible outcome.

And I’m talking about these reactions that this child created and has been using for almost 30 years; childish reactions that serve to undermine the true effort by giving off the sense that this adult child will fall apart at any moment. People don’t react well to low self-confidence and the Universe is a machine that gives you exactly what you ask for (deep down.) Thus, if the mind is reeling around about when the next shoe will drop, the machine that is our Universe says “here you go, one dropped shoe coming up!”

So what you are saying is-

Shut up! You are what has gotten me in so much trouble all this time; that voice that says ‘what if’ and conjectures on all the negative outcomes that are possible, thus creating that which I most fervently do not want. I want the outcome that is fun, I want the outcome that gives me happiness; I want to conjure love and intimacy, not falling shoes.

This is it world, in the face of self-inflicted doubt, self assured destruction and a lifetime of negative conjuring, I give you something different, a list that changes this ancient paradigm and creates a new reality that is different than anything I have ever conjured before:

  • I am a good person
  • I am attractive and sexy
  • I have qualities that are sought after and valued
  • I am strong and stable
  • I trust my own intuition
  • I will be there for myself at all times
  • I can tell myself no and trust my decision
  • I am special to me regardless of what the outside world thinks
  • I don’t have to be alone anymore
  • I don’t have to be afraid anymore
  • Life is good
  • Life is fun and I am an active player
  • There are no more shoes in the air

I love you Drew….so very very much.


Crazy (071207) Outline - REWRITE 1st Act



Act One:

  • Montage: MAIN CHARACTER, Slacker CHRIS gets dumped, over and over by every woman he dates (3 - HOT woman, PLAIN and 50yr old MOTHER of 4) Chris is a Gen X - brilliant but immature and very low confidence.
  • Intro (Film Noir feel): Best friend/roommate BECK (She wants to fix Chris)(Chris is in her living room, has to go to bathroom - bathroom is her darkroom) - A female Detective wanna-be that is in love with hardboiled-detective-acting Chris but Chris is not interested that way (he thinks) but they have a closeness, an intimacy, a familiarity borders on love. Beck investigates Chris’ girlfriends all the time (credit, DL, etc.) Beck mocks him for always coming to her for help (guy needling). Chris gets defensive (acts like a girl.)
  • Meet friend TERRY, male, ex-slacker (smokes weeed constantly still) - high powered lawyer on the rise - got Chris his job (file clerk) - then meet BRYCE the evil Lawyer (#2) that loves to mock Chris - Bryce is smarmy.
  • Intro Theme in conversation between Chris and Terry: How’s anybody going to like you when you don’t like you? (where did you get that one, did you make that up? Just think about it Chris!)
  • Client/Lawyer party at strip club (Film Noir) - Chris meets BILLY beautiful stripper bartender- they hit it off - she is extremely literate Gen X - smart, quick; they talk all night She won’t have sex with him but they sleep together - breakfast/intimacy - he misses work.
  • Chris runs to Beck - he’s in love with Billy. Beck doesn’t want to hear it and refuses to talk to him about her. He leaves upset. Beck runs to the computer and starts a search for her name.
  • Chris runs to Terry about missing work, tells him he’s in love w/ stripper bartender - Big boss (MR. ROCKERFER) comes with Bryce and scolds Chris and shoos him off - Rockerfer asks Terry if Russ can be trusted. You brought him in and if he starts talking then he’s out. Then Rock winks and says ‘have fun tonight’ and giggle like a schoolgirl as he leaves
  • CLIENT party for a FEMALE COMPANY at a MALE STRIP CLUB - Chris helping Terry run the party for the clients. Chris is waiting for Billy (keeps checking phone) Billy shows up with Bryce and they disappears into the back. Chris follows searches and
  • Chris finds Billy fucking Bryce - She tries to stop Russ from leaving - he’s gone
  • Depression Montage - droning green hued TV, in bed, bongs, green video games
  • Beck brings him favorite food. Terry brings him porn.
  • Terry - You always give up because you think you don’t deserve anyone loving you - but you do…(Chris: I want her!) Then go get her!
  • Chris finds Billy and demands an explanation - we aren’t married, I have no responsibility to you - disappears.
  • Beck investigating Billy finds small information and she hides it from Chris
  • Chris confronts Billy at club where she works - Bryce is there with the lawyers - Chris threatens a scene (I’ll quit!) - she agrees to meet Chris if he goes away and doesn’t make a scene.
  • She pretends to be ‘female’ sick. Bryce nastily excuses her from the party

  • Chris and Billy meet for drinks and they argue but it turns to fun, chemistry -
  • They get drunk
  • All night sex
  • She demands that they must hide it. Chris is horrified that this last night of passion means what? She will not stop seeing Bryce. She dances around why this is so important and begs Chris to not press her on this. He promises. She is ecstatic and fucks him again. Chris proposes they get married. Billy can’t stop laughing. She makes an apocalyptic allusion and fucks him again.

Emotions, depressing things and outside stimuli…

Reddit, you make me sad, all the top stories are depressing. Why isn’t there a comedy subreddit?

While I agree that reddit can get a little overwhelming, I would like to point out that an outside ’source’ like reddit or digg or a newspaper or TV or anything outside of each individual’s body CANNOT ‘make’ you sad. Only you control and have influence (ultimately) on your emotions.

Thus, if you are depressed, it is because YOU reacted to outside stimuli (reddit) and caused your emotions to behave in a sad or depressing way.

Not trying to be a smart ass, I just want more people to understand that WE CONTROL and are the ONLY influence on our emotions. Giving over the power over our emotions, even metaphorically, does ourselves, our minds, a massive disservice.

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