Come on and wash these shores away. (Day 115)

Last night was a lot of fun. I've been working on not getting bummed anymore like I used too, or how I used too. I've been working on saying "yes" to life basically, and I'm loving absolutely every single second of it.

I'm the happiest I've ever been. I'm getting to know myself for the first time in 23 year, and I actually don't hate me. It's a learning process I can't wait to keep doing.

I ate at Ihop this morning on ASU campus, and I realized that that's where I would be this time next year, and I got extremely excited. I'm so ready to go learn, and meet new people, and have some fucking fun.

Last night was pretty cool though. We, my friends Arleen and Richard, went to a bar for a karaoke night, downed a bunch of Jager bombs and a few beer and straight Jager chasers and just rolled with everything that was coming along.

We wound up hanging out for a few hours and just taking it all in. We almost sang Green Day's Longview,but wound up deciding to leave before our turn because the place was pretty much not worth sticking around.

But while sitting outside drinkign with strangers that felt like life long friends, I discovered many things:

A) I for some reason was funny.
B) Seasame Street not only teaches you book smarts, but street smarts as well.

Snuffy was always coming down, Big Bird had campy racist undertones, Grover sold "Qu" like he was sling rocks and there was a two for one deal going on "because you can't have q without the u."

Oscar wasn't a grouch, his "friends" were just pricks who never gave a shit. Bert and Ernie weren't gay, they just did a lot of Ecstacy.

So I think that's pretty much all I've got for right now. I'll be giving more in depth tomorrow, but I just wanna take a chill and watch American Dad and chat with my pal.

I hope everyone had an awesome weekend. Stay classy.


-Until tomorrow.

Truth be told I miss you...truth be told I'm lying. (Day 114)

Bare with me, it's been a long and fun weekend. This has been the first chance I've had at an update so I'm gonna post a few tonight. Two actually.


So Spring is upon us, and new love is in the air. Case in point, my cat Rizzo now has his first girlfriend. Now he doesn't have the kitty equipment necessary for reproducing, but I've been assured he can still lay pipe.

Her name is Emma, and they took to each other right away. The reason why this is so outstanding is that he's never been an outside cat. When I was outside petting this stray because she was so friendly, he stepped out a little bit and she and he hit it off. So I shut the screen door after having come back in. A few minutes later I hear the sound of what would seem like it was a screen door opening.

That can't be, I thought. And sure enough, when I turned around they were working together to have her come in the house.

They cuddled for the rest of the afternoon. Every time I tried to take her back outside, he would hiss at me. He's not an aggressive animal by any nature. He's certainly never hissed at me before. So there's that. My little guy is growing up. I'm a bit jealous, but whatever. Don't hate the player, don't hate the game, hate the hate, right?

She breaks his heart though, she's going to a no kill shelter in Mesa, far away from him.


In other news, my mother has been hospitalized for the better part of the weekend. She had some pretty severe kidney stones. It got to the point where she was bleeding non-stop and in constant pain. It got to the point where she has two very large stones in one kidney, and an even larger stone in the other.

There was a chance she could actually die during the procedure, but I kind of knew she would be ok. She can only have one procedure per kidney, and the other massive stone, they have to borrow equipment from another hospital because it's simply too large to be blown up.

I wasn't going to come to Mesa until my dad pretty much forced me too, because we knew she'd be fine. I felt realy scared for her, but as of this afternoon she's back at home. She still will be dealing with this for a bit, but everything will be fine. I know it.

I don't know what I'd do if she did die. I mean, I know it's werid to out and out say that, but speaking in terms outside of myself, I'm not sure how my father would take it. She's been his biggest saving grace in life. They really are meant to be together, and it's just awesome to see, honestly. Not many people get much of a second chance, let alone several others on top of that. But through the muck and mire they found each other.

It's Spring now.


Anything can happen.



-Until tomorrow.

Please don't ask me just what I think. Trust me, you don't want to know. (Day 113)

I have a knee MRI, and it's kind of bothering me. I know what's going to happen:

They're gonna inject ink into my knee, and it'll highlight all the effected area. They are going to look at it and scream. They're gonna then load up a shot gun and send this stud out to greener pastures.

I'm so very stoked.

The book won't be finished today, I'm projecting at least mid week next week. Maybe sooner. I have a few things on my plate this weekend.

Lately, while I've been in a really great mood (which I have) It's becoming increasingly difficult for me to find the desire to open up and talk to anyone, even my closest friends. I think a lot of it might have to do with the book itself, because a lot of people I know might take the time to read this, and chances are if they've had any significance in my life--they wound up referenced in the book in some facet or the other.

But even outside of that, it's just rereading what I've written, I remember why it is I don't talk about some of these things. I just don't feel comfortable with it anymore, like, at all.


Well I need to go get ready to be poked, prodded and put down.

Wish me luck.

-Until tomorrow.

84 takes a lifetime. (Day 112)

I didn't really get too much accomplished on the book front yesterday. I didn't want to be a lousy host again like I was the other day when I wrote four chapters while they sat wondering why this computer had my attention.

I wound up completing a good portion of chapter 10. The next few chapters will probably take longer than I had thought the day before because they are going to be a bit longer, but that's okay. I'm happy to take the time and make sure it's better than just me throwing words at the screen and seeing what sticks. I mean, I basically do that anyway, but at least this time it might not appear to be like that.

So here's a snippet.


Chapter 10:

Walking Spanish

Her name is Holly, and she's a Go-Go dancer. I had no idea that Go-Go dancers still existed.
She tells me of these parties they get paid to go and shake their asses. She tells me that
as Conservative as Republican's want you to think they are, they won't even think twice about
spending tax payers money; Money that some poor bastard sweat and toiled over to just give
away without their consent. They have no qualms about burying that money between a girls tits
when she's shaking them to Usher. And, I'll be very surprised to know that these old guys
are pretty up-to-date on the modern hip hop landscape, as they'll request Ice Cubes "You Can
Do It" while grinding hard on a girl in a silver dress and roller skates' ass.

I'll learn that she once wanted to be a doctor, but the money is too good. I'll learn that
she hasn't had a cheeseburger since the Twin Towers fell, and that she often wakes up in the
bedroom of a millionaires mansion wondering how she got there, and why she never became a
doctor. She'll then remember that she got paid eight thousand dollars last night for discretion,
and the wondering will cease quickly.

I'll learn that methamphetamine is a horrible drug, and every day it takes a bit more concealer
to cover up these brutal mistakes. I'll learn that her bosses' prescribe it to her, because
thin is always in, and metabolism is too slow. I'll learn that she still sleeps with a teddy
bear he daddy gave to her when she was a kid, and they went to a carnival in Burbank. I'll
learn that every day she grows a little more numb, but the words "Los Angeles" never seem to
stop stinging.

She's got a tear in her eye. She has no idea why she's confessing this to a stranger, but she
can just sense that I'm the one person she's going to meet tonight that isn't going to try
and fuck her in a bathroom stall. That I'm going to be the one person tonight that doesn't
see her as meat, as an easy target. I'm going to learn that Holly isn't her real name, that
her real name is "too ugly for the consumer" (Bernice), and that most evenings she finds herself
envying strippers because at least they get lunch breaks.

She's going to squeeze my arm and thank me. I'm going to thank her, and tell her that I know
I'm never going to forget her. That I hope she does become a doctor. She gets up to leave the
bus, and someone who's felt like a life long friend will never be seen again. She's going to
say, "Somehow I doubt you'll ever remember me." and that's going to be the saddest thing I've
heard in years.

I'm going to sit there on the dark bus as it pulls away, and I see her meet up with co-workers
and they go off into the unknown places of what's a passing memory. I'm going to sit in my
seat and stare out the window for hours and pray for the end of the world. I can't stop
cursing my amazement that this world is always constantly revolving, yet we continue to stand
in reverence of pop culture instead of the duration of existence. I'm going to hate the
sensations crawling on my skin in knowing that there's something that exists in this world as
an ugly name, and that it's not good for business. I'm going to sit here and hate the fact that
sometimes you don't even care to learn a name, period. It's just a place to bury yourself in
and when the morning comes you can just walk away and brag to friends about how flexible she
was. I'm going to hate the fact that daddy's little girl, his pride and joy, now showers to
forget. That daddy's little girl is now the recipient of someones callous and care free, somehow
couldn't care less attitude. I'm going to hate that somewhere in the night right now, daddy's
little girl is going to plaster on a fake smile and shake her ass for tips.


-Until tomorrow.

Like a goddamned dog with his tail between his legs. (Day 111)

Yesterday morning, something was very adamant that I not sleep.

At first there was a fire alarm. When I made it to the hallway, after doing all the safety procedures (wetting a cloth to put to my mouth and tapping the door knob) I was fully prepared to save Rizzo when I realized the on key component for a fire alarm: The fire.

So there I stood under a little plastic orb screaming at me that there was some sort of dangerous fire waiting to engulf us all. And no, there was no fire.

I have really sensitive hearing, so this was killing me.

Eventually I ripped the fire alarm off and disconnected the battery.

As I close my eyes, my father runs into my room, instructing anything that's plugged in be relieved of their duties. I was okay with the radio and TV...but my fans? Why god? Why.

I went back to bed, and finally started to drift off. In comes my father, bewildered with his cell phone, "I think I missed a call and I think the left a message." Of course they did. And I get to wade through the other 17 messages left on his phone to get to the one from my Uncle. I dial the number, give the phone back to him. He decides right there is the place to conduct the conversation. Right. Fucking. There.

He loses reception. Leaves the room, and comes back in to inform me he lost reception again.

It's during this time that pesky Rizzo comes into my room. I'm too tired to let him back out. He
always wants attention, never to just sleep next to you. Finally, after half petting him, half falling asleep, he subsides. And there it is. I've finally fallen back to sleep.

15 minutes later there is an other-worldly crash. I look around panicked, only to see the culprits outline. I keep empty wine and Jones soda bottles on my window sill. Don't ask why. I just do. And Rizzo has knocked them all off.

Fine, I'll just stay awake.

So I wind up writing four chapters of this book yesterday through one eye. At one point I thought, "Hey, a nap would be nice." So I go to lay down on the couch. Immediately I'm out. This couch has healing powers. It's so comfortable...

There goes the fire alarm again.

So no sleep for this guy yesterday.

But I did get a lot accomplished on the writing front. So, here's another snippet.



Days Gone By:

I've still got some time to kill, but this time I bring my suitcases with me. I'm sitting at the
bar, and I'm getting bombed. I stopped throwing up hours ago because I ran out of fuel from
my guts. But now I'm loaded, and reloaded.

Staggering back onto the plane, I sit next to an Asian businessman. He's well dressed, and I
look like I just tangled with the gutter and the gutter won. He sits and smiles at me, and
extends his hand. "Jim" he offers. "Chuck. Nice to meet you, sir." We sit there and talk about
why it is we're on the specific plane. He's on his way to Albany to train his replacement. After
34 years, he's being forced into retirement and has no idea what he's going to do.

After 21 years I'm being forced to run away, and I have no idea what I'm going to do.

He buys round after round of wine, and we toast to whatevers going to happen when that tar mac
brings us back to reality.

Here.
We.
Go.

-Until tomorrow.

Do you like Sam Cooke, y'all? Don't he look Boss, y'all? (Day 110)

First of all, allergies are assholes and I wish I never had a nose right now. Mine are debilitating. Pollen is a a bastard invention by the Man to keep the rebellious down. Truly.

I wound up writing two chapters last night, and I'm really pleased with how both turned out. I like where the book is heading, and from passages I've shared here and there some people really seem to like it okay. So I'm pretty excited about that.

When I'm done writing the book, I'd like to post here videos of all the songs I listened too incessantly, to really let people know how I set the mood. Oh yeah, baby...how the Show Stopper does his thang, and sets the mood.

I'm hoping to be done with Open Roads and Brick Walls, which when I first asked if that should be the title, I kind of hated it, but the further I go with this book...the more it makes sense.

So the Chapters I've got written now are Intro/1-5.

Intro/A Sinners Mind.
Cold Water Body Shock.
An Evening With Sal Paradise.
Rooftops.
Apples Versus Oranges.

I'm going to start work on the next Chapter, called Days Gone By. I'm pretty excited. So before I head off, here's a clip from chapter 5:

Apples v. Oranges


"She squeezes my thigh, and I nearly throw up. It's too real, and it needs to be diluted somehow.
I just wish it could be. God damn the fingers in my thigh, the tears in her eyes and the
hurt in his voice. God damn the moment cancer became a word, god damn the moment Miles Davis and
Johnny Cash died. God damn the moment this songs going to end...and god damn the moment in three
years when I'm three thousand miles and feel this helpless to console him even though this time
he's three feet away...god damn that moment when I'm three thousand miles away, and he whispers
those words, "Chuck, I have cancer."


God damn the moment I realize it's his birthday."


-Until tomorrow.

Sometimes the painkillers make the pain worse.(Day 109)

I'm lazy. I should be writing Chapter Four of the book, but...it's...an effort, haha. Something I just don't have the patience for.

Side note of advice: Always remember kids, if your gonna pop pain killers...make sure you eat first. I mean my God, I can't tell which way is up, which might be fine for writing because lets face it, you write what you know. But that won't work when you're supposed to entertain a guest in a little bit.

Last nights chapter was called 'Rooftops', and it took a long time to write because it's a lot more open and honest than I ever thought I could be with anyone, again. Much less people I'll never know, or something.

But I think the end result was something that I'm more than proud with, and I think as far as it goes, that chapter is going to be the cornerstone of the entire book itself.

Anyway, I need to finish, or even start chapter four. From New York to California in one fell swoop. That's how I do.

Now I'm being a bad host.

So here's a snippet of Chapter 3: Rooftops.

"My roommate and her husband drive me to the airport. I hate every moment of this, but I'm
excited for the future. But I'll be making this journey without my heart. My heart lays in my
past, and the past is where it shall remain for the years to come. In the months to come I'll
come to fully understand the expression, "Just going through the motions." And I'll have a new
appreciation for etymology, one that I have to this very day.

Their talking about going to France for their honeymoon. I can't stand it. Honeymoons. Who the
hell thought of that word, anyways? Why does it always have to be such a big god damned
production? The wedding, the honeymoon, the whole nine yards? What ever happened to eloping?
I can promise you most of the people who eloped lived out the rest of their days in love with
each other, because they didn't need the validation from onlookers. People will watch anything.
People watch car chases, people watch 'Two and a Half Men'. and continue to pay to see Nic Cage
not have any talent. People will watch the remains of a car accident with sick fascination.
People will watch anything. It's just a shame real life doesn't always have a soundtrack; We'd
never put down the popcorn.

It's foggy out, and starting to rain. It's 60 degrees. The roommate and her husband drop me off.
I sit in the rain on a bench. I have a few hours to kill. They say get there two hours early,
but they never mean that. Especially not this early in the morning. No wayfarers care to be
up before the birds. The pilots don't care, their riding high off a bump of coke, and a quick
lay in the cockpit. They'll fly your ass anywhere if the money is right. Especially here in
New York. If the money is right, they'll do anything you want. And God, I could go for a bump
of clean coke for once.

It's always cut too much. You're always picking mounds of baking powder out your nose, and only
getting half a hit. Only half a motivation. Only half a moment of definitive reality. Only
a half cocked gun delivering half a bullet to half a brain with only half the impact resulting
in only half of the desired devastation.

Twenty minutes later, something smacks the side of my head and pulls me out of my trance. I
didn't even notice I was soaking wet. I barely realized I was sloshed. "You know...I've had guys leave in the middle of the
night before. I've had guys leave while I was in the bathroom, too. I've even left under both
of those circumstances, but it's usually the guy. I've even had a guy slip out the window while
I was looking for a shirt. He was four feet away. He didn't even take his shoes. Who does that?
Anyway, what I'm getting at is...I'm used to guys leaving without saying anything. But I've
never had a guy leave without saying anything, and it's own apartment. I mean, that's got to
be some kind of a first."

She sits next to me and bumps her shoulder next to mine. I can't look at her.

"Come on. I know you're leaving, and it's okay. Just give me something of your really quick, I
wanna show you something." I unpack my worn copy of Catcher in the Rye. It's been a bible to
a youth lost on subversion. There is no explanation. I am looking for a faith, or a reason
to have an ounce of understanding. We're all just birds in cages with clipped wings singing
mournfully for the memory of flight.

She puts it in her jacket pocket. "Now you have a reason to come back."

-Until tomorrow.