Monday, February 14, 2011
It is damn hard to deny that the few of us that have muttered the words " I Love You" havent been hurt or betrayed, lied to or just simply fucked over. We ponder on it for a while and more than usual we come to some sort of realization. Perhaps we were fools for staying with them and we we sure as shit know that we will not be with that bitch or bastard ever again. But that is only in retrospect. During the doomed relationship, we stayed...either out of fear, maybe some sick weird sence of security, comfort maybe, shit maybe we were just too stupid to realize that we were in this trance. Now, i have had my fair share of halucinations...recall the initial part of the relationship...butterflies, love and lust...all the shit that clouded your instincts and got you hooked. Fuck, those were good times...but then the shit hit the fan and you woke up, the drug has slipped out of your body and your senses have come back and now what? well, you utlimatly make The Choice...take it again or move on and go through withdrawel? We all made that choice for good or ill. Now where do we go? What do we do? Well, that is the hard part. The time to accept the fact that knowing true love needs to stem from somewhere...maybe true pain. Now we have learned what it is to be in love and what it is to feel the wrath of that emotion that we knew so little of but now know so much of. No longer will we through that word around, we will keep it deep inside of us, only to be used again for that rare person.
Valentine's Day is upon us. Those of us, the Single, get to watch those, the Taken as they are brought flowers and are given kisses and get all the chocolate that they can eat. But we know the circumstances of this day...The flowers die, just as most promises. The kisses are empty, because most of them taste like lies, and All That Chocolate, well once it is all eaten, it can make you pretty depressed.
- Watching these fools all around me, while on break at Queens College. Feb 14, 2011
Friday, August 13, 2010
No elephants or monkeys here. No man, this isn’t that type of circus. The lion bit with the flaming hoop is missing too. Shit, if I bought a ticket for this wild bunch of maniacs, I would try desperately to pass it on to some sucker or even try and return the ticket back.
It became instantly clear at that moment that this was no ordinary circus, the animals had been replaced, but by what? These things move like I do, on two legs, some only on one…poor bastards. A few of these wild untamed primates walked tall with expensive professional camera equipment others even had a crew of 6 maybe 8, flashing lights, radios, sound records…it was something out of planet of the apes.
We have all heard the expression “we live in a concrete jungle” I would like to revise that little line about this city. No, I think “jungle” is too kind of a word. And after this fine experience this simply justifies my next statement. We are in a circus, and the circus freaks and tamed animals have been replaced with these beasts from Alabama, Missouri, North Carolina, Washington, Japan, China, Spain, Switzerland and let me say this about that, they unlike the animals in a circus, they run wild in our NYC streets
-W 42nd and Time Square, desperately avoiding these tourists as they have clearly hijacked the streets 8/13/2010
Sunday, August 1, 2010
A man greets his kids, you can tell he is divorced or at least going through some concoction of a break up. He shakes the hand of his 8 year old son in a way that shows perfectly the kind of disconnect he has with him, even though we somehow know it has little to do with the innocent boys actions, it still is a disconnect. The sort of shameless handshake that is almost honorable, a hand shake that somehow transcends a message to his boy that he will someday be able to understand. In his later years I bet, once he is old enough to understand what his father has gone through and even more clearly once he goes through his first serious break-up.
A gentle kiss on his daughters forehead and then he puts his arm around her and begins to walk. A tear almost sheds from his eyes as he looks on to his children and knows that they have now been dragged deep down into this mess of a situation. They start their walk towards downtown, perhaps towards some place to eat. The Walk closely resembles a walk of shame. His daughter brought his son – her little brother- out to see their father. Why Though? Watching him, you know he is asking himself: how the hell did I get myself knee deep into this bullshit? What did I do wrong? Where did it all start to fall apart?
You can almost feel sorry for him as you would for any poor bastard that has just stepped out of his office to be greeted by his two children. One is as tall as his father’s waist line and the other is a few years away from breaking the heart of some high school kid. Shaking an 8 year olds hand instead of grabbing and picking him up to hold on to dearly is a sad, sad thing to witness let alone be a part of.
Perhaps he is the innocent one and now, now he is trying to understand why his wife has just abandoned him and their children. Fuck, it could be worse; far worse. Maybe they are both innocent and something terrible has occurred. Maybe an accident of some sort has taken place to the mom/wife. And now the kids are there to meet their father who has now just begun to be a single parent. No. That is a bunch of gibberish. The children are far too calm…they clearly know how to handle this situation, at least for now.
They have now walked into some overpriced café sort of place on Madison Ave. Poor bastard now has to dish out 25 bucks for some chicken fingers and fries. This is one of the most upsetting things I have stood and witnessed in quite a long time. Long live the American Marriage.
- Madison and 45th Ave waiting for some broad so I can overpay for lunch too. July 29th, 2010
Monday, July 5, 2010
Unlike last time, this time we left early in the morning. We learned our lesson; in order to avoid these wild American’s in their over sized SUVS, we must be as far from the curb as possible. It was Memorial Day, that day we remember all those who lost their lives for this country for one reason or another, maybe they were drafted, maybe they enlisted or maybe they were a casualty of war maybe even terrorism. There is, after all, always someone pulling the trigger with the sights set on someone or something. This day was, as Memorial Day, subservient to the loss of men and woman that believed in something far much greater than what we remember them for. They believed in the Dream that we call America. This day, July 4th, we ride out to the beach –hopefully avoiding traffic – and we gather with our umbrellas, our towels and beach chairs, with the infamous red cooler filled with water, beer, liquor, and snacks or whatever else it is we consume while getting our Vitamin D.
But it is important to know that not all are at the beach today here at Point Lookout, LI. From coast to coast the backyards have the smell of a grilled chicken, meat or pork lingering in the air. The parks are being raped with litter bugs and the stores are racking in the cash for all the bags of ice and water they sold. It is a great day for our economy and pietas. But not everyone is smiling and rejoicing; remember those wild and crazy animals we fought some 324 years ago? Yeah, those guys across the Atlantic. For them, July 4th is something else. Some of them I’m sure have forgotten that on this day we showed them that not everyone is subject to the policy of the big wigs; some people are just not going to turn over and let the powerful "One Percenters" make all the rules. But a nice chunk of those Brit’s still, I’m sure, have a sour feeling in their stomach on this day. While we eat our American hot dogs, our American corn fed meat and drink out high fructose corn syrup, they are sipping on their tea (with milk). And on such a hot day, tea is just not on our menu. July 4th is not a day of celebrating for them, it is the single day they remember the most, the one that haunts their political dreams. On this day they ask themselves “did we get too greedy? did we really need to keep taxing them? What were we thinking about trying to rule these savages from across the Atlantic? Maybe we could have dealt with them differently?”
And now, as we spread the mustard on the hot dog, smear the burgers with barbeque sauce, ice down our buckets of beer, perhaps we should be asking ourselves those very same questions. After all, somewhere some place, right now men and women are sitting in a room talking about how they too are being dealt with by someone far more superior then they are. They too are being raped for something, maybe not tea, but nevertheless something.
- Sitting on the beach at Point Lookout, LI on this beautiful day, the 4th of July, 2010
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Emerging from the 14th street station, after sitting in the heat filled "E" train, I thought would have been a miracle, but no, it was far worse then I could have imagined. The weather was as glum as the faces surrounding the Apple Store on 9th Ave and 14th ST. It was while heading to an interview at some hotel/restaurant/bar that I was able to watch this zoo-like creatures surround this Mecca of a store as if it were the last remaining ration of food after a 12 hour starvation period in some wretched jungle. These people stood around with looks of angst, hate, anger and beyond all these misery. Who knows exactly what the days take was on the IPHONE 4? but i assure you, whatever it was, was a steal for the corporation, I’m sure they could have asked double what they were asking, I mean, after all, these animals were standing on the hottest day of the year waiting for this phone that has now, unlike the 3gs, going to somehow make their lives better.
Upon walking I stood by the entrance and listened to a fellow New Yorker yell at his peer of the city: "I am a person with a learning disability, I shouldn't have to wait on line". No other thought could have struck me as the one I had, which was: it is sadly ironic, if not a paradox how a "learning disabled" person was going to be able to not only buy an IPHONE 4, but also be able to operate it. Shit, I am a tech savvy person and even I have an issue with these contraptions once in a while, at times I must call my IT guru of a cousin and barrage him with questions.
It seemed like a group of junkies waiting for their fix. I am almost positive that somewhere in this great city of maniacs and phone fiends there is a man or perhaps a woman who peeked in an orgasmic way once opening this box and plugging it into his/her Itunes. It almost sounds like a sin...maybe it is? Where are the Catholic’s when this kind of degradation occurs?
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Now, this may not be exactly what you had in mind when you started reading about this, well actually you wouldn’t know to even make an assumption because there isn’t a title, but never mind that, this is simply about killing people, taking orders, brothers in arms, perhaps even brothers for life.
It wouldn’t be the scene you would have had in mind when hearing about fleet week on the rise and marines and navy men running wild in New York City, but I assure you it was a mad scene, but not at this bar, not at all.
I sat there enjoying an argument with a very attractive woman that believes that she, at least to herself is the center of the universe. It was then, at that specific moment that I realized that if these brutes would have over heard this woman that at any moment they may have shot her dead at that moment, so it seemed like I had no choice but to cordially invite them into the conversation, to kind of well you know...act preemptively.
Immediately I threw her in with the wolves.
“Look at her, she is nuts…she thinks she's the center of her universe”
I pointed at them, looked at her and said:
“If these guys thought like you, the guy to his right would be shot dead”
Whatever it was that she said or they said was irrelevant at this point, it is where the conversation led that was the most quintessential part of this massacre.
I looked at the 8 of the brutes as they drank their hard earned beers and started warning them that I wanted to ask them a few questions, they laughed and said that they liked me and that it was ok and to go ahead. I order a round of drinks and started, but I was interrupted and asked if I was a journalist, I laid it down right then and there that I absolutely was not, which is the truth...after all, I am a citizen and these are my guardians…I should be able to ask a question here or there eh?
“So do you fellas get influenced by the politicians over here while you’re over there getting shot at?”
Now, this Marine was not loaded at that point, but later I remember him involved with some woman, which I noticed was actually the friend I came in with, clearly he wasn’t aware that she was a maniac…as was I actually, but that’s aside from the point...wait what is that point? Oh wait, right.
“ nah we don’t give a shit if these politicians tell us to go where ever the fuck they tell us to go to, all I know is once we are there, we are doing a job. My job could be to mount the gun, then that’s what ill do”
“Well what if they say shoot the "bad guys?"”
“I’ll shoot those bastards then”
It was then, that another brute said something in a drunken stupor, I didn’t take him too seriously but then a few more started hooting and hollering about it…
“Yeah fuck them! Where else can you kill people and be paid to do it, fuck them!”
This was not something I didn’t expect to hear, but this is happening…they are actually getting off on killing people. But then again, can I blame them? Modern Warfare 2 is out now and 3 is in the works -shit I’m going to buy a copy when it comes out- it has a certain romance to it though, after all the expression “it’s a dirty job but someone has to do it” came from somewhere, why not from the Marines or the Navy, perhaps even the Army boys, shit we should just start with the boy scouts at this point. These Animals are bred somewhere, and I know it isn’t in New York City.
Discussing politics at a bar can be very hazardous to your health, I see now why someone much wiser than I came up with “no religion or politics at the bar”. I wasn’t beaten or anything, even though I knew that for whatever reason they could have choked me out in a matter of seconds, yet I was compelled to press on with my questions.
“Is this PTSD talk all just a bunch of garbage or are you really seeing this beast being a problem for you guys?
This tall Texan stood out of the chair and got serious about what I asked, I thought I was done for but he actually bought me a drink and started talking…
“Let me tell you something friend, nothing is like killing some 8 year old kid, it will always fuck you up. Yeah yeah yeah, I know that he had an AK47 pointed at me but he had a chance for a life, maybe he could have cured cancer…I don’t know. It fucks you up!”
I looked concerned...did this guy kill an 8 year old? Shit, that must be some weird drug-like trip, not one that I would ever want to be on.
“Fuck”, I didn’t know what else to say…I thought he might start to get all wired on this topic so I turned and said...
“I personally like to think that when one is enlisting themself, it is because they want to serve their country and not because they are looking avoid jail. At least that way they have managed their expectations of what they will go through when shot at. In retrospect I am sure it is better to be in jail serving a 5 stretch as opposed to getting shot, killed or end up as a car salesman with PTSD, would you agree?”
“Shit, most of us know someone who is enlisted just so he could avoid hard time. I would have done the same thing, but either way, no, it doesn’t matter…once you take that first shot…it’s a whole new thing”
Somehow, and I knew it would happen, we got into a discussion about what their options were for when after they came back from duty, and most of them were as clueless as the rest of us. But they all knew one thing; even if they didn’t fire a shot, an employer can turn them down for PTSD, just because it is well know that a lot of soldiers suffer from it. It was no longer a generation of vacuum salesmen, but perhaps a generation of car salesman, and some damn tough ones I must say. I would buy an American car from a guy with dog tags, shit how I could I say no? The guilt alone would eat me alive…but then again I am shallow, but these others beasts roaming the streets are weak.
The rest of this got a bit fuzzy. I was, after all, drinking…heavily I must add. Shit, I hope I remember this stuff correctly or is this all just some drunk’s recollection of another boring experience at some bar on the west side?
From the bar stool of The Mean Fiddler on the west side of Manhattan - 5/26/2010