Saturday, March 14, 2009

I'm in last place, if I place at all. But theres hope for this Underdog. (Day 101)

I'm kind of at a loss of words. Today was interesting, and a nice reprieve from everything I've been dealing with for the past few days.

It's weird getting used to walking alone again, figuratively speaking of course. You have those pangs missing the conversations, and your routine, or what you used to look for in now in a distant horizon behind you.

And while I'm not willing to get up from this one, and settle, I know I'll be okay. I'm okay now.

There isn't a crevice of my life that doesn't remind me of whats transpired. But it's a reminder that at a brief moment in time, I at least existed.

Hanging out with a friend today, he had a somewhat heated discussion with a girl who was trying to ease her way back into his life. He feels that he isn't in a place for a relationship; and while some of those reasons stem from his faith in God, I can see where else he comes from.

A lot of people would call me a nice guy. Some would call me an asshole, but I mean...nothing that can be done by that, and truth be told I don't mind the latter as much as the former. But that being said, I'm a notorious doormat.

I never used to be this way, and I'm trying to figure out where that changed so drastically, but it ends, and it ends effectively now.

I have a lot of patience. There aren't many who would disagree with that statement.

Part of the side effects of the medication I just started taking, coupled with the Lamictal, decrease my patience, and I can't say I'm ungrateful for that. It's caused me stress on levels I can't even begin to describe.

I'm sick of waiting. Waiting...I don't have the time or patience for that anymore. And from here on out, I'll be a lot more self serving than I have been. That's not to say that it's the Aaron Show, or anything. I'll do anything to help most people out, and that's something that'll never change.

But it's time to look out for number one. It's all this passiveness that's lead me to always finish second place, third place, last place, whatever you wanna toss into that category.

During my friends conversation (I don't mean to eavesdrop, but he was less than an inch away in a quiet car, and I felt this conversation actually applied to me) he stated what was what. I mean, he laid down his terms and conditions for being in this girls life, and I have to say it kind of hit me hard.

It's something that I never fathomed.

To put it more crassly, I finally understand what "putting the pussy on a pedestal" means.

I'm so afraid of rubbing girls the wrong way, that I don't assert myself enough to ever stop an oncoming onslaught of hurt feelings and broken emotions. I don't want that anymore, at all. And I realized it's because the value I place in women are unrealistic and over romanticized. There is no Shangri-La.

I've never asserted how I want things to go. I'm pretty docile when it comes to most my relationships, especially with girls. Sadly, it's lead to me becoming something of a door mat. Unfortunately, this door mat's worn out. The 'welcome' side of the mat has been flipped over.

It's about respect for both parties. And while I respect girls to an infinite amount...I have to watch out for myself.

Those doors are shut.

Life is out there waiting for me, and I don't want it to wait any longer. It kills me to be just another number, a minute detail to a picture on a wall I'll never see again, but that's just what happens. I lost two very close people to me, I miss them. I miss them a whole fucking lot, and I wish I were stronger, because a lot of my best moments involved them...

But I doubt that's a reciprocated feeling, and I mean...I never fit in anyway.

But here's the rub:

That's the way I like it.

Instead of me being bitter, I'm surprised by this...but I'm over it. I love 'em both quite a bit, and while it tends to eat at me a little bit...I'm really happy for them.

I'm disappointed in how I handled things. I wish I could have that connection back, with both of them. At this point, it's probably pride. And while I can usually swallow my pride quite easily...this is different. I'm completely embarrassed from my actions.

I'm ready to start anew on every plain. I owe it to both of them to live up to my words. I owe it to everyone who reads this, and most importantly...I owe it to myself.

The meek might inherit the Earth, but until then those stuck in limbo will inherit the rotten soil unless they learn to till.

I'm done hurting myself. I'm done hurting them, and I'm done being a harbinger of negativity and pain.

That's not to say I'm going to be overtly positive. But whats happened isn't worth losing two close friends. That's just the way the dice come up sometimes. grin and bear it, and chalk it up to experience.

Somethings aren't meant to be, and sometimes they are but they aren't apparent for reasons that are obvious to anyone except sweet lady karma.

Like I springs from forest fires. It might be devastating at first, but soon enough, with enough rain, sunshine and wind, something is going to spring up. Even winter's gotta end.

I can't wait to see where I go from here.

-Until tomorrow.

Friday, March 13, 2009

I hope you had the time of your life. (Day 100.b)

The 'b' can stand for a few things:

It can stand for "bonus", as in you get a bonus update. Lucky two of ya.
It can be an extension of the post prior
It can be that I want to do a double post because this is '100'
Or it can simply be the letter that comes after 'a'.

I've been a Green Day fan for most of my life. When I was a wee lass (I'm only 23) they were a safe haven for me when I had no where to go. Every chance I got, I would put on 'Warning' or 'Insomniac'. And given the nature of my last post, that's somewhat ironic.

It's ironic in that I was such a fan of two widely forgotten Green Day albums.

But I never felt like I belonged anywhere. That's where music, regardless of the band, come into play.

Music, besides a thimble full of other things, has stayed constant f0r me. Now, I know I said that the shows I felt like a "black sheep", and that's so very true. But that's not an extension of the music itself. The show is just an intermediary.

Ever since I heard 'Longview' back in 1994, I was hooked on them. Be it the attitude, or anything.

One thing that always bothered me was that 'Good Riddance' was on of their biggest hits of all time.

Here's the thing; I love the song. And after today/last night, it's taken on a whole new meaning for me.

You ever know something can be bad for you? You know it's bad for you but keep doing it, because you haven't learned.

Everyone has told you it's bad for you, and you can openly admit it's bad for you too.

Other people have been there, too. They can relate to it.

It could be about drinking, to women, to cars. to anything really. But because you haven't learned you still keep doing it, because honestly...whats the absolute worst that could happen.

Broken bones heal, broken hearts cease hurting, you get used to fading hearing, and every day since she left gets that much further from who you used to be.

See, the past is a tricky thing. It's a monument to what you did, and in the end of it all, you'll always inspect what you could have done better, or wish you used a different polish, or even how to keep the pigeon shit off of it. Or not, even. Let it rot, let it blemish, let it fade, because tomorrow is going to be the present, and every second that ticks away is one that's lost forever.

We are our own movies.

I always knew this song was a bitter ballad, almost telling someone to fuck off. Almost, but not quite. To me it's so painfully obvious, and I never understood why every single high school graduation played this song, because it isn't a happy song in the least. It's a reflection of a relation that's slipped away. One that meant the world, and in the felt like that world collapsed, that it ended.

But the other thing about this song is that it's bittersweet. An understanding throughout the pain. And while I'd always loved this song, it's completely taken on a new meaning.

It's so hard to let go, even when you know deep down in your heart it's for the best. Sometimes that 'best' doesn't apply to you because you have to look at the bigger picture for someone you care about, who you loved, who could never do any wrong in your eyes, but for whatever reason you have to let go.

To hear those words, "I'm sorry. I never expected this to happen. I didn't want to hurt you." rips me apart.

But the words to this song now speak in a different way to me. I can relate, I can feel every syllable, every stroke of the strings, every note from the strings.

I truly believe that every great happening in the history of the world, especially with literature, is stemmed from a broken heart of some sorts. And by great, I don't mean it's always positive or anything. I mean that it's significant.

Take the Nazi's. As odd as it is to say this, everything they did stemmed from a broken heart. They rose to a violent prominence because after World War 1 they had no food, no shelter, no hope. And when you can package hope to someone, they'll do anything to feed their families.

The guilt of the world laid on their shoulders.

In no way am I condoning the actions of Hitler, or Nazi's. In no way, whatsoever. But I think people overlook why it is that that happened. People don't learn from the roots of trees, they learn from the bark it sheds, and unfortunately they never notice why it is that tree is dying. They just know it's dying.

But everything beautiful stems from a broken heart, because that's what people can relate too. Whether a child dying, or dream coming to an end, or a divorce...anything. And so many times something amazing can come from that.

It's like a forest fire.

It's ugly, it's devastating. Animals, and sometimes humans lose their homes or lives.

And the trees are now ash.

But that detestation, that tree that was charred to ash that now lays on the floor of the forest does something weird. That ash enriches the soil, causes new life to sprout. Bigger, better and stronger than before.

Our lives are forest fires waiting to ignite.

Every bit of me hurts right now. And I don't care to pick myself back up, and I really don't want to let this go. At all, because this was the greatest chapter in my life, and I don't care to read the next.

I hate thinking about the future, and thinking of this as the future of my past. Every still frame, every photo...I don't want to top that. But I want you to be happy, healthy and to never look back.

It's always killed me to realize I'll be someones footnote. Something improbable that only lasted a minuscule moment in the grand scheme of things. I want to be so much more. I want to be more than just a good friend for once. I want to be more than that kid who writes so goddamned much. I want to be more than a walking disaster, or a constant punchline.

But that's all I ever see myself being.

I'll never stop loving you. Not for a second. I don't regret a single solitary second, and I'd do it again in a heartbeat, even if I knew the outcome would be the same.

You're so much more than what you give yourself credit for. Others see it, I know I'm not alone in knowing it. I know that, and I hope you see it one day. Like he said, "He hit the lotto."

And that he sure goddamned did.

I hope you had the time of your life.

-Until tomorrow.

We'll put a distance the size of the ocean so now this heart can beat a skipping rhythm. (Day 100)

Triple digits.

Today is a new day all in it's own. A few minutes ago, I just took my very first anti-depressant. It's called Pristiq.

It's good to know if I ever reach menopause I've got something to aide me in that.

So today is triple digits. And like I said yesterday, if you leave a comment, you get something special mailed to you from me. Here's the catch, I can't have just anyone get it, just for reasons of my own. De plagirismo!

So here's how we're going to do this. You comment me with your email address. If you want the email address taken down after I get it, note so. I'll take it down after I contact you via email.

When I contact you via email, we're gonna have three questions of pop culture/history (the two pop culture questions deal with this blog), and I'll post them here:

1.) Where does the name of this blog stem from?
2.) What's the name of the mood stabilizer I take?
3.) What is the etymology for the phrase, 'tongue in cheek', as in, how did it get to become an idiom?

Last night was one of the hardest nights of my life. Out of respect, it won't get aired out here.

I know a few people wondered what was up, and hoped it would grace these pages, but not this one. It hurts entirely too bad, and I'm not that open of a person. Maybe in the future, but for now I need to figure this one out on my own.

Friendships are such strange things, though. In the grand scheme of things. You feel a connection and bond with someone for so long, and if they survive the area of just being an acquaintance, especially with me, then that's saying something.

I've always been a fiercely independent person. I just always have been.

In High School, I had quite a few friends, but opted to stay home most nights, unless they involved Austin, Arleen, Josh or Richard.

Each of them are vastly different. And somehow, I always knew I never into that scheme. I've never felt like I've fit in anywhere.

When I was a kid, most the people I knew were elderly. It's why I started playing music, and why most the music and songs I tend to write are based in bluegrass, folk, country, etc. It's a happy coincidence that those things are increasingly popular with the punk fans now, though.

But even in listening to punk rock music, that's another place I never really felt like I really fit in, either. I'd go to shows, and even though all these bands touted unity, and were against racism, I'd look around and realize that not only did I go to these shows alone...I was the only brown person around.

Going to shows now feels so weird, because I go alone 85% of the time. And I see all these people who are so invested in some kind of scene, and I'm some how, only I could pull this off, the black sheep of the counter culture.

But for once I wanted to rise above that. And I thought I had, too. Deep down, for once, I felt like it was my turn to stand in the spot light.

When I left for Albany, and when I came back, there were five people I wanted to see again the most. Austin lived in California still, or else he'd be on that list, but out of those five people, as time dictates...I'm only friends with two now, and I've only seen one of them since I've been back.

And I know this all seems really elusive.

But a long time ago I left my heart in Southern California.

Now I just don't care to get it back.

For those involved...I don't hate you. Not in the least, and I'm sorry I'm such a shitty friend. But this is that final straw. After this right here, it's a non-issue as far as I'm concerned. Just be happy is all I ask. I feel like if I'm owed anything, I'm owed that much.

But this is that change. This is that divide, and this is that goodbye.

"The panic was lost in a deep understanding."

I'm tired of not being good enough, or not being that serious prospect or anything. So cheers.

"Here's to apathy."

-Until tomorrow.

Thursday, March 12, 2009

I swear to God that I'll love you forever. Evelyn, I'm not coming home tonight. (Day 99)

I had my first full eight hours of sleep in...God, I have no idea how long it's been. I got started on this sleeping medication called Temazepam, or Restoril. Whichever you prefer.

Let me make one thing abundantly clear, until last night there has never been a single sleeping medication that even came close to working for as long as it promised. This though, I guess, as the lady who prescribed it, was "hardcore".

It's mixed with another sleeping agent I take called Trazodone. I was skeptical, because at first I just felt like it wasn't going to work. For about half an hour I laid there waiting, and decided I'd get up to read. As soon as I stood up, it hit me like a ton of bricks, and it was over Johnny (or Jonny. However you wanna spell it, right Jon?)

I woke up at nine, and though a little groggy from the sleep, I felt refreshed.

I think this is the first decent step I've started taking. I've noticed that today, the anxiety is a lot less than normal.

Starting tomorrow morning, I start an anti-depressant, although I don't remember the name of it. I was supposed to start it today, but the pharmacy was out of it. I'm really curious about this, because this is the most serious step I've started to take in terms of this whole little journey I'm on, and I'm curious if there will be a change like now.

I just don't want to sit here wounded anymore. I know it sounds kind of lame to say that, but I'm having a hard time lately, and it's just compounding everything. I really can appreciate that my moods aren't all over the place anymore, but with stabilization comes a much longer run with say good times, or bad times. And lately, I haven't exactly had too many good times to write home about, and so tonight I'm dealing with it the only way I've ever known how too: I'm gonna drink until I'm numb.

Then tomorrow I try it someone else's way. At the end of the month, I'll see which one sticks. Until then, well, Hell. Lets just see what happens.

I've been looking into moving in with a friend I used to live with. I hope that pans out. There isn't one part of me for the last month that hasn't woken up and sat thinking...God...

I just want to leave it all behind.

And that's exactly what I'm going to do. There's no way I'm going to allow this cycle to continue. I'm just so fucking sick of it all, and instead of moping I'm doing several things:

*I'm gonna drink
*I'm gonna write
*I'm gonna get the Hell out of this town
*I'm not gonna look back
*I'm gonna give up on what can't be gained
*I'm gonna meet new people
*I'm gonna start again
*This is the most important one: I'm gonna become everything I'm not.

Tomorrow will be the 100th post. So, in conjunction, anyone who posts a comment tomorrow (email me your address) and within a few weeks time you'll get a surprise.

-Until tomorrow.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

I remember when we used to spend the whole goddamned day in bed (Day 98)

I went back to my doctor today. As of tomorrow they are starting me on some kind of anti-depressant, although I'm not quite sure what it's called.

My sleeping habits are poor at best, and I just got put on a new type of sleeping medication. So I'll see how that goes.

I'm nervous about the anti-depressant, but we'll see how that goes. I have the same trepidation I had when I started Lamictal, but that turned out okay. So I wonder whats next.

They asked me to consider doing peer-to-peer counseling, meaning they would train me to console a peer of mine. It apparently pays, so I'm all for it. Money money, yeah yeah.

Last night I wound up nearly putting a hole through my bathroom wall. I've made mention of my Uncle before, and I won't get into specifics now, but needless to say last night was the straw that broke the camels back.

He's a self-serving, opportunistic, greedy bastard who thinks his way is the only way.

However, today he wound up getting a phone call telling him the motel he thought he sold, was now being foreclosed on.

Karma is a bitch, yeah?

Unfortunately karma doesn't fix my swollen and pained hand. Maybe it could get on that?

This anti-depressant is supposed to start working within a week or two, and does little to no damage to the liver. I really don't know what to expect. Wish me luck.

-Until tomorrow.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

I won't breathe you in, in '97. (Day 97)

Quickly approaching is Day 100. I can't really believe this has lasted that long. Usually I get distracted by shiny objects.

I've been thinking a lot.

Part of who I am, as far as this goes, and the whole writing aspect, is I want to keep in touch with anyone who decides they'd like to talk to me as well. In doing so, I've made a lot of friends. Just take a look at the side bar there, not only are every single one of those people great people, but they are extremely talented in each and every facet of their output. I can't implore you enough to go check them out. Honestly.

Part of this five year plan leaves me confused. Life lately has left me confused, and where I'm left is pondering the choices I've made, versus the choices I will make in the near future, and what there impact will be. Some of those choices are going to be hard, and for the first time in a while, I really have no support system in how I will handle them. And some of them are the hardest choices I think I'll ever have to make.

Theres a line drawn in the sand, amongst all of us. Where we have to find out how we not only fit into our own lives, but lives of those we love and cherish so much. It's getting to the point now, where I've got to reevaluate who I am, where I belong, if at all, in anyones life. Each, and every person.

There was a time, in New York, after a particularly demanding day at work where I was sitting on the corner of Lark and Washington. It was this vegan organic sandwich shop, and I still remember it clear as day. Across the street was Key Bank, and that bank always intrigued me because it had a rotating analog clock. For some reason, I really appreciated that.

I get so goddamned sick of the modern world sometimes. Everyone has a cell phone glued to their ears, the government forces digital tv's and converter boxes down our throats (but makes little progress in the way of revolutionizing our health care systems) people want change, but it becomes apparent the only change they want is an extra recycling bin and a Twitter account from Barack Obama. And I don't mean to sound so cynical, it's just right there in plain view.

All my life I've had fascinations with clocks. Real clocks, the kind that at four am tick, and it's the only sound you hear, and have left to remind you that you're not entirely alone in this world, or why else would the clock be ticking? It's counting down someones minutes, too.

So I was sitting on these steps at the sandwich shop. Every place in New York has a stoop, and I love that. Absolutely. 90% of my best memories in New York took place on a stoop with people I never knew before, will probably never know again, but felt completely welcome and real.

It makes me realize, in the here and now, that I'm outnumbered 50-1. I used to think I could take that number on, or go down swinging. But for God's sake, even my father has a cell phone, and he barely knows how to use it. And it's not even that I'm against cell phones...

I'm against the lack of connection we all have. Ironically, we have cell phones, blogs, myspaces, facebooks, twitters, a thousand other different mediums to keep in touch without keeping in touch. You're worth an email, not a handshake or hug.

I get the practicality. And it's ironic that this is something that bothers me, considering I have friends spanning several different continents, state lines, and state of minds.

As I sat there, I remembered so much of what I tried to accomplish. Cutting ties with people I no longer saw myself as a vivid part of anymore. I don't really like acquaintanceships, I feel like it spreads people too thin. Or at least myself.

But I also realized that I've never fit in. I've got a lot of friends now, and there isn't a single "group" of them in which I actually fit in. I'm that jagged piece of steel in the factory that somehow passed inspection.

I have to find out where I stand in my own life, my friends lives. In this world, whatever.

When I went on hiatus from here, there was a commenter who I'm not sure I've ever spoken too. His name is Nick, and I won't copy and paste what he said. You can go search for yourself if you're so inclined for the verbatim. He basically said that somehow this blog had helped him. I can't explain how hard that hit me, or how often it still does.

I feel like I've never done an ounce of good for anyone. And for someone I might have never spoken too, have definitely never seen...thats just something that throws a wrench in everything.

Thank you Nick. Honestly. From the bottom.

Side note: Go pick up the new AMP Magazine. Eric Funk of the Dillinger Four apparently shit talks me a little bit. I think it's confusing, because he's had a lot of positive things to say about me in the past. I wonder why the sudden change? Whatever, they are still a great band, and I've got a lot of respect for him, personally.

No hard feelings.

-Until tomorrow.

Monday, March 9, 2009

Scream loud, scream sayonara! Sweet Josephine, will you fuck back home? (Day 96)

For the past few days I've been searching heavily for a job, but more or less in the Phoenix area. Part of my five year plan sees me outside of Arizona within the near future, and if I get a chance to try it again somewhere else that's on my list, I'm going to take it.

So if you read this, and are living in the following areas, and know of a job listing I may be interested in...send it to me.

LA/most Orange County (Come on Hollywood, you know you need a writer, and I know you read this site)
San Francisco.

Make it happen.

I don't know why, but I really just want to wind up on my own, live somewhat comfortably and just have a big dog. That sounds, ideally, just what i want. I'm tired of having to have restrictions on what I can, and can't do with my living space because of other people, be they parents or room mates.

I want to be able to invite girls over, and not have to run into shit from room mates anymore, even if it's just in jest. I've gotten that a lot of the years, and it's odd because oddly enough my parents have never cared. You'd think it'd be the other way around, but I guess thats just not how things work with me. Doubly ironic is the fact that my dad is a preacher, and my mother a devout Christian. Theres been time when it's the middle of the afternoon, and she'll be leaving and not even so much as a wandering eye.

Where as living with room mates, she's left and it's a lot more blatant what just happened (noise, askew hair and bewildered look/clothing) and even before she's out the door, you get the "God's watching" or laughing/snickering, high fives to the girl, or even actual judgment on needing to have something settle in stone or taking it easy, and really I don't need that.

Given some of my habits, drinking and whatever else, I really don't feel like ever having another conversation on why I decided to buy Colt 45 40's instead of groceries for myself. I have priorities. I've had that conversation countless times, and I don't feel like I owe anyone an explanation for anything. I still get up in time for work, and I still keep my shit clean and tidy and am not a noisy or nosy individual. I don't need the third degree three times a week, and I'm kind of sick of it at this point.

If I want to have a shindig, or house a traveling band or something, I'm tired of having to clear it with people. If I want a huge dog, I don't want that to be a big no-no because someone else prefers dainty little poodles that are smaller than my cat.

Velvet: "Your cats bigger than most dogs."

I have a huge policy. No dogs that are smaller than Rizzo, ever.

That's a picture of when he was just slightly past kitten age. I'd say he's about a year and a half at that point, and he didn't stop growing. I don't think he has. He can reach most counters and stick his head up to see whats going on, or twist any doorknob in this house easily.

And it might seem weird, the desire to have a pet, but in the past I always wanted room mates because I didn't wanna be alone, but now I've noticed a pets pretty much everything I could want. They don't talk back, and minus a few incidents with Rizzo, they don't hit on the girl I'm trying to woo, and most pets I've ever had are very attentive, lovable by all who cross their path, not a dick and don't tear things up, and mild mannered.

Plus if I move out, I'm done not owning anything. I need something to protect my shit.

I want to wind up teaching history or something, too. It just makes the most sense for me, and it's something I'm extremely passionate about.

Basically, room mates are cool and all, but I'm 23 and kind of over it. I'm gonna have to have one initially when I move out, but when I've saved up enough, I'm going my own way.

So right now, thats the most important thing on my five year plan.

Second most important, I guess, by default, but the one I would have to accomplish first, is getting a cell phone. And god damn, that burns me alive. I've made it this long without one. I don't foresee myself ever having to get one of those evil technologies, and I may be the last person on earth without one, but everyone is saying I get one. Minus Arleen, who thinks I'd be selling out.

So who knows.

-Until tomorrow.

Sunday, March 8, 2009

I found my place in no where. (Day 95)

Warning: The following story contains lots of male nudity, boyish charm, tummy sticks, ass slapping, drinking, possible sexual harassment, naked hugs, Floppy Moose (explained below for those who don't know) mistreatment of a sock, general guy love, and stupid pining for a beautiful girl.

Last night/early this morning was the closest I've ever been to actually seeing a scenario of prison rape happen. I wasn't the recipient, but not unlike what my idea of prison might be, the weakest link of the group was singled out.

I should back up and explain:

I had a friend come in from California, and in tow she brought back home another friend of mine who was out visiting her. Seeing as how she was completely booked up minus a few hours last night, we got together for a fun little night.

But fun little nights that start off innocently enough, soon turn into borderline anarchy, something I'm sure we've all seen about 100 times before. It's kind of like that song, "We Didn't Start the Fire" by Billy Joel. We didn't start the fire, but we didn't exactly rush to put her out, either.

Sometimes you just become entranced by fire, and in the back of your head you're thinking, "Someone should really put some sand on that...but unfortunately I have a beer in my hands, and I'd have to set down the bottle. And I really hate flat beer." And at the same time, you're quite content just to watch it burn.

Burn motherfucker, burn.

What started out as four people just sitting in an empty room drinking a few beers and shooting the breeze, soon evolved into six people; one of which had little to no reservation or shame in their naked body. God bless them for that.

Every single time I've been around this person, virtually, they wind up naked in some facet or another. Whether it be just a friendly game of naked grab ass with a few other men (theres nothing gay about men pinching each others asses) or in the name of art, he truly had no reservation in nuding up.

Last night was no exception.

It started out innocently enough, with the lovely Velvet questioning how/why a man would masturbate into a sock instead of a condom. Valid question. Seeing as how this persons room we were drinking is nothing short of a mad genius, and a great host, he decided to go ahead and show everyone.

Now you might be asking, "Aaron, why wouldn't you explain it?"

Well, friends, I don't actually masturbate all that much, for one, and for two, sometimes it's best to let someone else who has all the answers explain. Especially when they have such a deep, and burning passion to educate and enlighten.

So our host goes into the bathroom, while another person who was with him prior was indisposed in the crapper, and comes out Red Hot Chili Peppers style. He proceeds to explain how the sock method works, and when asked about possible chaffing and why not to use a condom instead, he replied brilliantly: "Condoms are expensive. Socks you can just reuse."

In this current economic strife, I believe that thats the most appropriate response. The last time I bought condoms, it put a dent of twelve dollars in my pocket, and to be honest I'd rather just roll the dice with coitus interruptus, than constantly have to schill out 12 bones every single time.

Condoms are a rip! If they were any other product, if you paid 12 dollars for something you can only use once on something that you'd like to do quite often, you'd burn the person standing in your way. I've had sex 7 times in one day, mathematically speaking, I'd have to be goddamned Mr. Burns to afford my appetite.

But masturbation...thats been God's gift to the poor and uncoordinated with the ladies (me on both accounts). It's a time killer, it's something to do under stress (especially in the stalls at work when you're really stressed out...don't act like that doesn't happen in there). And it's free. It's free, free, free. The best things in life are free, and this is a prime example.

But for it cost pay to do that...thats slapping God directly in the mouth in reply to a great gift. And when you have magic fingers like I do, it's doubly insulting.

But back to the task at hand. No pun intended.

So our charming house guest shows us, and the whips off the sock and tosses it at his brother (mentioned above: The Good Time are Killing Me") who then whips it off into his friends face, and I'm not shitting you, his name is Eddie Murphy. (This guy is white though, and not funny, at least not in the way Eddie Murphy used to be funny. However, when I discovered his name, I'd been drinking, and made sure to inform him how bummed I was that the PJ's wasn't on the air anymore ((minus Adult Swim)) and how awesome "Raw" was.)

Soon after, our house guest informed us of his other skills. Being a talented songwriter and musician, he paid tribute to none other than yours truly. Finally, I'm starting to get my just dues in this goddamned world.

He shared a dream he'd had about me, where I was nothing but a kind, giving and talented lover, with such lines as "He made me feel safe as he laid above me". Truly, he captured what it's like to make love with the Show Stopper.

However, ol' Bowfinger seemed to be truly terrified of the situation. Curling up, hiding next to Velvet, as he was the closest to him, I realized quite a few things: One, in prison they route out this kind of weakness, and two it's really damning to be this repressed.

Our host once again got naked, and stayed that way for the better part of the night. This time when he got naked, I got a nice view of his ass, and wound up stating (you would have, too) "Do you work out? You could bounce a quarter off that ass." And it's true.

For the rest of the night, our lovely host proceeded to attempt to lick/nibble Dr. Doolittles ear (Velvets suggestion), bounced his member off the guys head (while he was under a hat, and blanket, and cowardly hiding next to Velvet) attempted to play tummy sticks (that was my suggestion), and all other sorts of fun things. At one point he even locked Axl Foley in the bathroom, and when he escaped, his face was filled with tears.

I've never seen the expressions of pure and unbridled terror that this mans face exhibited. Ever.

It was also Mr. Murphy's birthday.

Some people are just ungrateful for birthday gifts, and it sickens me. I was nothing but ecstatic for my love ballad/tribute song.

One of the more entertaining moment of the night was when our house guest performed an act called, "The Floppy Moose." For those of you who don't know what a floppy moose is, it's when a guy, usually in boxers, is standing and spreads his feet out wide, and thrusts his hips back and forth, making a smacking sound with his junk.

However, our house guest decided to be an innovator and ask if anyone knew what this was called, did the floppy moose, and me being such an educated and learned man in the way of genital sports, said, "Oh, thats the floppy moose." This resulted in a high five.

I high fived naked guy.

Far be it for me to ever turn down a high five, honestly.

What kind of night wouldn't be complete without a three-way hug, with one of the members naked? Well friend, I'm not sure I ever want to find out. Our house guest decided he needed a hug, and I love to hug.

Velvet joined in, stating, "If you ever thought you were bi-polar before..."

I hugged naked guy, and beautiful girl. I could probably die happy.

Side note, while thrusting my own genitals at both members of this hug, because thats how hugs work, I don't do "ass out" hugs, I'm about unity damn it, I think there may've been some accidental touchage of crotches. Whatever, I was wearing Dickies, at least they've earned their name now.

At the behest of our host, he asked someone to smack his ass and call him a bitch.

Now, I mean I've already hugged and high fived naked guy. Maybe someone else should've stepped up to the plate, but then again...I have magic fingers.

I licked my hand (who doesn't when about to smack an ass?) got a running start, and slapped his ass, calling him a bitch. Definitely got that satisfying smack, too. Those kind where the smack really hits everyones ear drums perfectly. You know what I'm talking about. I was quite proud of it, actually, and I think others were impressed as well.

I should mention most of this debauchery, while loud, took place with the guy who I previously mentioned in the crapper, asleep on the floor while all of this was going on. This guy was unflappable. Even when he was awake, he sat there smoking not even seeming to notice that his friend was mounting a clothed man huddled into the fetal position with fear in his eyes, weeping.

As most nights end, this one ended with our guest back in his pants and us deciding we needed food. While I neglected to eat, the ride back was awkward, with Eddie Murphy in the back attempting to assure us he was in on the joke the whole time. I understand people being uncomfortable, but there are times when you have to go with the flow, even if you don't want too, if only just to save yourself. This night is an account of that. Many times he was informed if he'd just call naked host "Papa Smurf" or hug him, the torture would be over.

I suspect the fear was a front, or a part of morbid fascination in wanting our naked host to continue to serve us the entertainment.

But while dropping off Eddie Murphy, I also realized something:

It a few minutes, she'd be gone. Velvet, I mean.

I've had few people impact my life the way she has, and every time she's visiting it's like a whirlwind. Every one of us, at least in my opinion, are enablers of the worst kind. Kind of like a, "I dare you to try and top that" kind of thing, if that makes any sense. But I love that. It's a break from such monotony, and you need that, or at least I know I do, in order to survive in a world that gets so stuck on auto tune, that theres no variation, you almost beg for that chance at a cracking voice or unscripted solo.

She's that unscripted solo, and I know I won't be seeing her for a long time.

Things happen, and things suck. Things beyond my control that make me wish I still had hair so I could fucking rip it out, but it's in holding still and keeping refrain that make the moments of clarity more deserved and loved. It's a hard road to walk, and a thin line to confine yourself too, but you just have to hope that theres a pot of gold at the end of this rainbow. And God help me, I know I do, but it gets harder to believe in that gold when the line gets thinner, and you try to learn your place in peoples lives. I know I have a lot of thinking to do, and I knew it last night, too.

But staring down the barrel of the end of the world, if it were your last night on Earth, would you sit in revelry about how much you wish it wouldn't happen, or would you say 'fuck it' and choose life one last time, in the most absurd way possible?

Always leave them wanting more. Always leave wanting more, just in case. Just in case you come back someday, you're still able to find that amount of passion you left on stage. Hopefully it's enough where you can run with it.

Otherwise this worlds going to end, and you're going to spend your last ten seconds wondering where the last 24 hours went, and how you wish you would have spent them differently.

-Until tomorrow.