At least

I have a lot of bad traits. I keep taking Xanax and Ambien and things that relax me and help me fall asleep. But I only do that to maintain minimal levels of productivity and creativity. To make me somewhat profitable and in a seemingly reflexive sense, more aware.

At least I'm not hanging out in chat rooms for hours at a time, at the expense of all other possibilities. At least I'm not cruising bars for booze and boobs. At least I'm not laying a trail of tears about my own misfortune. At least I see the promise of a blank slate every day, having erased all yesterdays to make room for all tomorrows. At least I'm still corny.

Cowboy boots

These are my new cowboy boots.

I am totally uber-cool in them.

Batman has his belt.

Superman has his cape.

Spiderman has his web shooter.

I have my cowboy boots. I have super powers. I am Cowboy Man.  

(Cue Spaghetti Western music in background)

In case you missed the bulletin before....

Love is the next drug czar target. Apparently, the sensation of love is similar to the sensation of a crack high. In an effort to bind our minds, there someday may be regulatory action taken to quell any and all pleasurable brain activity.

http://bigadesign.com/wcms/index.php?id=34,88,0,0,1,0

Within shouting distance

My new friend Judie turned me on to Milk and Cheese.

http://www.houseoffun.com/milkandcheese/index.html

She and her husband-to-be, Cliff, make real cool t-shirts for sale. They live right near me in Red Bank.

http://www.elchingadero.com/shop/t_shirts.html

 

Get it?

Get hit/Get it no one get's the inference of my Perpetual subhead.

Thoughts fired from the missal silo of my mind. If it's over your head, you probably wont get hit.

I write a clever semantic line of elocution relying upon diction and only one person in the universe gets it. And she rolls her eyes as if to say, can't you do any better?

Get hit/Get it

If it's over your head, you won't get it.

Reflexive thought gone circular, in genius mode

If you believe that objectivity is the result of having no opinion pro or con, then fine. But if you believe that there is such a thing as objectivity, then you must have an opinion. Therefore, I say there is no such thing as objectivity. Only intimidation. Muse on that. Spend this entry at your will for an answer. Friggin go for it.

String theory works

I'm on to something here. I feel a node in the universe that feeds unto this thread. Bear with me.

Work

I have never been so proud to work with those I work for. The place I work came in 13th out of 2,000 possible places to work in the most densley populated state in the nation. Category? Best places to work. I'm there. And loving it. And leading it. Pride beams out in all directions. Christine deserves massive props.

Happiness will soon be illegal

Love is officially a drug. Beware. If the republicans find out they will want to regulate to satiate the strange overtness of government  will-obeyers that they are. Love happens to distribute chemicals in the brain similar to the way drugs do. What do we seek, as a species?

http://bigadesign.com/wcms/index.php?id=34,88,0,0,1,0

 

pocket change

does any one have some pockets i can borrow? i will be bar hopping in vegas soon and i need room for sunglasses, wallet, fone, camera, cigarettes. that adds up to five. that is too many. even if i had five pockets, it would be really idiotic-looking to use them all. and think of the confusion and silent humiliation i would face on a momemt-by-moment basis while constantly flailing at myself to find some instantly needed thing. not cool. i need a pocket posse.

critical mass

i am on xanax and i am on ambien and i am on nyquila that is going down like cherry-stained saliva. i am thriving in mind body and spirit. i have found a comfortable balance that allows for aggressive function and passive contemplation. i have mountains of work to do before vegas and i am serene in my ability to conquer. the dam is about to explode and when it does i will say a critical mass in veritable liturgical form to celebrate the occasion. mankind defines man. perception is all that matters. there is no objectivity, only intimidation. wwjd for a klondike bar?

Peace

De Passionada, dos esta del sea forma calypso comet sky

Rain man

Does anyone else, besides me, have the ability to know exactly what time it is, without a watch, down to the nanominute?

OK I'm exaggerating a bit. But ask me deep into the summer when the sun still hangs high and the mosquitos awake, and I'll tell you it's 4:17. And damn me if I'm not right. Funny thing is, I'll get the date wrong.

On second thought...

On the other hand. Maybe this is good. Maybe we are a society with no concept of sin. A culture with no scruples. A mass with no concept of retribiution, for we have become so myopic. Maybe we act without fear of reaction. maybe we have a false sense of power that will humble us to ruins.

Maybe I am articulately aware of this while others have no qualm of flailing to shatter the gall of those who are a direct threat to their fragile IQ. The "I" stands for indefinite or intimate or inquisive as a complement to a natural intelligence. The "Q" is still quotient.

Ghost me a name I will put you privy to an open space where vacuity is a blessing, hedgemony is a ratrace and trespassing is a sin. Not to mention the sound of chicks' asses exploding a slice fatter with every whirl of their 10,000 RPM computer fans. Wrinkles burrowing in crow's foot skin, words adding age in their trancendence from screen to tired eyes with every dull spark of vapid cognition.

Annie

Ann is like all 3 of Charlies angles rolled up in one sweet burrito of an idyllic woman.

Nano vs. Terra

Nano is the smallest. Terra is the largest. Suppose that instead of nano making up terra, terra made up nano? Would that have an influence on dark matter theory.

The New Jersey Oscars

The limo is booked, Nancy is my gorgeous date, we're picking up my boss, Christine, and her husband, the great multi-talented Jim, and we're going to a big, fancy red carped gala tomorrow night. I plan to drink a bit of vodka and tell amusing stories to all who will listen. And not gawk at celebreties. www.gsff.com

 

Corona to apical

Whiskey induced is an affront to my regretful gorge into a microwave pizza and the subsequent satiation of blood rushing from head to stomach to care for renewed body activity. I tell you what I do when I do it. And I ain't always proud. But don't you dare speculate with my basis for being in the balance. I thinks my balls off all life long and sweat the fact that I don't give my own feelings the time they deserve. But my Brain is worthy of way more than the presumption of a "whiskey-induced" nuance. I work and deserve far more than a slight like that. Especially from you. You've saddened me.

Whiskey? No. Fermat's Enigma, maybe.

Ann says I’m soaked in whiskey when I’m actually exhausted from thinking all week.  I call that slander.

 

All I do is think and and propose theoretical and semantic equations to solve marketing, money and various strategic problems for people who need help pretty much 24/7/365. My mind does not pause from Monday till Friday. I chase my thoughts in circles and read books about chasing thoughts in circles.

 

Lanmark pays me and tolerates me because I’m damn good at articulating things in the manner others want to be articulated. Or so they (the others, not Lanmark) think. I’m proud of what I do and those who do it with me. We sweat to make money for a private company.

 

I don’t get to stop thinking and just walk in a park. I don’t get to just stop and look at a frivolous friggin cloud. I have to think hard and wide all the time to put ideas on the table to make my company profitable. Chris plucked me from NCI to do just this. We get pissy and fight at times. But we are on the same side, loading our backs—along with a number of select other talented people— with ideas and possibilities so that 40 others can take home a nice chunk of cash.

 

And when I stop thinking, I crash. Brain waves go from Alpha to Omega. I could be drinking beer, whiskey or Nyquila. I could be eating Skittles, wingers or pasta. Same result. I could be watching baseball, South Park or playing PSP. Flat rhythm.

 

That’s why I like to talk to her during the week, when my mind is spry. She notices the difference. But she misses the piñata on why and how that difference is real. I’ve tried to explain it to her. Active mind/passive mind. She’s disgruntled with the passive, yet won’t engage the active. Does that say more about her or me?

 

I’m open to opinion. As usual.

Asking out Erin

Horrified, the sound described her decisive indecision.

I asked her out, round about, I’m reliving my own revision.

 

                                        *

 

I am close to a unified theory between nervousness and outcome via quantum physics via the predictable rhythms, yet unpredictable patterns of  simple, hand-holding, cheek-kissing, lung-sucking, body-enveloping, smile for the picture, got some gum, nice boobs, ass-pinching dating.

 

We’re talking the randomness of particles, not the predictability of waves.

 

It's molecular. Patterned waves are at best an odds on maybe.

 

                                        *

 

I’m so Einstein. I gotta shake that predictability thing. String theory, here I cum.

 

                                        *

 

Good thing Nancy has a reign on me. Otherwise I'd be bucking like a bronco looking for a mare into which to sink my studly steed seed. As it is, my ass is bouncingoff the walls of this untidy, man-lived-in, Red Bank apartment. Clothes strewn about like a post-model shoot. The scent of spring dueling with a compacted hamper of socks and t-shirts. Lefty, and all his molecules scattered about. Me and my PSP on level 6 (Roadkill, no braggin rights, yet. Thought I did dispose of Cousin Eddie rather handily).

 

Totally into American Idiot. Totally into American DNA. Totally into this Perpetual Notion Machine.

Cocktail Weenie

Just realized today that I don't have a date for tomorrow's Garden State Film Festival coctail party (the big shebang's on Sunday). I asked one of my faves, but she hedged. I think it takes more than 24 hours for women to get ready for these things. Takes me 10 minutes, shower included.

Oh well. Always look on the bright side, I say. When life gives you an empty chair, go get some ass.

Guess I'll be looking for actresses to down vodka tonics and watch brooding indie movies with. Rumor has it that a bunch of Soprano's stars, soap stars and assorted local famous people will be there.

I will be sure to bring my customary redundant social shield of Visine and shades.

I will be sure to have an umbrella, for it may rain and we will be on the Asbury Park boardwalk made infamous via Bruce.

I will be sure to have many fresh $20s on hand.

And I will be sure to be all rock star while trying not to trip over what ever lies in waiting to trip me up.

Take it to the Limit, yo

According to Me, The Eagles Rock. Dammit.

 

You know I've always been a dreamer...

Put a cowboy hat on me, slap my butt, and send me on my way.

Pseudo Epic Cliche Entry

How did I lose all my friends? I am walking stigmata. Or at least a phantom briss.

Low Main Vein

I just ate about 2 lbs. of beef lo mein and pork fried rice and white rice and chicken and broccolli. Am I disqualified to post? What are our troops eating? I am living fat off of America's hubris. My divine shepard is breathing shallow breaths. I am rudderless, exponentially. I bought a $1,500 suit tonight. With all the extras. For a red carpet dinner and a white hot gala that I provoked people to come to. Via a movie projector and two tomato slices. Welcome to my reality. www.gsff.com

I need a date. Still provoking my own reality.