ART POST: Shakespeare

This is a drawing I did of my Turtle.  His name is Shakespeare.  I have no time for dating, but I still make time for projects like this.  I’ve been under a million pounds of stress lately, but it was nice to forget about those things for a while when I was doing this.  Drawing gets me into a meditation-like state where I am not thinking about anything.  

The Deal Of The Century

I went out last night and did some dancing.  Or a lot of dancing.  Enough to be absolutely soaked with sweat by the time we left.  Being in that environment got me thinking about dating again.  I haven't dated in years for a variety of reasons, but mostly because it's a pain in the ass.

I woke up this morning horny, and I realized that I had choice to make.  I could go out and start rounding up phone numbers and schedule a few dates and hope I get lucky, which would take time and some cost (even if it's just coffee, or a joint, or a bottle of wine).  Or I could go home and jerk off.  I did a cost-benefit analysis, and it turns out the upsides of jerking off were fabulous.

I can do it as soon as I get home, and I don't have to wait.

It saves me the time and trouble of dating.

It costs me nothing.

I still give myself the best hand job in town.

How could I pass up that deal?  People talk about jerking off like it's a bad thing.  I call it the Deal Of The Century.  Jerking off is completely painless (unless you overdo it and rub your dick raw, but I haven't done that since I was a teenager).  Dating isn't painless at all.  There are a hundred pains in the ass from dating.  The flaking.  The games.  The secrets.  The lies.  The expectations.  The ingratitude.  The anxiety.  The uncertainty.  The drama.  The fact that I have no time for problems caused by some dude with issues, because I already told you stop talking to them and you could solve the problem yourself in two seconds: delete, block, goodbye.

Plus, when you've really got the hots for a girl you'll do some crazy shit for her.  Fending off idiots.  Buying shit neither of you need.  Checking your phone like a crack fiend to see if she's gotten back to you yet.  It's all madness, and I don't have the capacity for any more madness right now.  I am barely staying sane as it is, trying to make ends meet.  I'm already moving to Africa and starting over in January.  All I want is some peace.

It's not the relationship part of the process I have a problem with.  It's the dating.  If it were possible to skip dating and go straight into a relationship, I'd be all for it.  But that's not how it works.  You have to go through the dating minefield first: a bunch of desperate and confused people acting like they know what they are doing, when in reality nobody knows what they're doing and we're all confused by our very existence.  It’s a silly show. 

If you think of life in terms of a movie, a bunch of wild love affairs would be a much more interesting movie than a guy jerking off.  But life isn't a movie.  And jerking off is the Deal Of The Century.  And it's not my fault nobody has been able to make a better offer in a while.

RAP POST: Like A Trainer Of Cats

I need a gig
To make some scratch
I wanna do it
To the max
But which direction
Where's the tracks

And where's the clues
I thought I knew
Just what to do
But yesterday
I got the news
And just since then
I've been confused
F'it wasn't me
I'd be amused
But since it is
Now what's the move

I ask my Mom
I ask my friends
This vicious cycle
Never ends
Am I a bum
Or'm I a business man
And what's the business
Where's the plan
Or should I just
Work for the man
But if that happens
I'll be damned
That's what I say
That's where I stand
I got the cards
I played the hand
So turn them up
Let's see
The plan

When changes come
Things well be done
I don't know
What they'll be
I wish I had
A crystal ball
To solve
This mystery
Or see ahead in time
Somehow
To know the future
Here and now
And take a load
Off of my mind
To know that I'll survive
This time

Just like the last
And this will pass
And I'll be thankful
God will laugh
And life goes on
Just how it does
But doing what's
The question, cuz

Or maybe I'll pull money
Right out of my ass
Right there on stage
Like a trainer of cats
I can just see it now
What a show that would be
I wouldn't charge cover
I'd do it for free
Everyone in the crowd
Would all watch with glee
And I'd give them the money
And then they'd feed me
So I would shit more
And we'd all live for free

RAP POST: Go Tell Them All

I might have dreamed
I would write
But never a rapper
A nice suit and tie
A mullet
But dapper
Even when broke
I can still dress to kill
Cause rich
Or poor
My style is ill
I don't get paid
It's for the thrill
I never stop
I have no chill
I wouldn't if I could
That's real

The pen moves
And the mind grooves
Telling news
Leaving clues
About the methods
I use
To give you my views
Cause I'm lucky
It's true
Take a seat
We got room
Come on in
Show starts soon

If you listen
You hear it
You know that it's true
So go tell them all
And not just a few
Go tell them all
Make them listen to you
And no, there's not time
For one single excuse

My bars
Are from Mars
Where there's no cars
And no scars
From no traffic
It's tragic
We die in our own shit
For profit
But not mine
And not yours
Punch the clock
Do the time
For a minimum wage
That is barely enough
To keep you a slave
To the system
Behave
If you want your next shilling
Don't try
To get brave
Or the world will come down
And you'll live in a cave

And no one will like you
They'll just call you Dave
Even though everyone knows
That's not really your name
But what does it matter
We're all just the same
Punch the clock
Show up, Do
What they pay you to do
Some day, if you're lucky
Then you get to choose
Until then you keep grinding
Some nurse it with booze

I nurse it with writing
Because it's exciting
I've done lot's of things
I even did fighting
But nothing compares
To the feelings I feel
When the words just keep coming
No filter
No seal
Like a faucet
My Spirit
Won't stop
Pouring out
It's my heart
It's my soul
It's my mind
There's no doubt

I was put here to do this
I didn't just choose this
It chose me instead
And I know
I just proved this

RAP POST: Let Me Out

I don't sweat the people
Who act like the rudest
I wear a chain
And I'm calm
And I pray
I'm a Buddhist
I just let it pass
Like my surface is smoothest
They don't know by now
I can't help them
They're clueless
Cause I'm running laps
With no shoes
I'm shoeless

I knock down walls
And break down fences
Art is a war
And I'm down in the trenches
Winning each day
With no news or mentions

No camera
No spotlight
No drama
It's on
Just me and my pen
Fists are tight
Guns are drawn
If you make me
I'll fight
Till the sun's early dawn
And when I get done
I'll just sing you a song
That reminds you of one
That you knew as a kid
When you said you were gonna
And then you did

With big brass nuts
That should've been framed
And put in a painting
And properly named
They don't like the score
When you teach them the game
But after you do
They remember your name
They see and feel it
Deep down in their veins
There's no fun anymore
It's just more of same
Fuck this cage, let me out
I am going insane

RAP POST: Can't Stop

I can't stop
Dropping these philosophies
And prophecies
Like Socrates
Get off of these
It's hard to breathe
When all I see
Are corporations
After me
And trying to make me
Property
I get no joy
It brings no glee
But here I'm on
IGTV
Just like a deal
Tween you and me
That I will rise
And be set free
And you'll come too
Cause we said "we"

RAP POST: I Get Down

I get down
With words
It's my form
Of violence

What I say
Is the truth
You can tell
Cause there's silence

I'll do all the work
Take a rest
Close your eyelids
It's my gift to you
Like a truck
I will drive this
Lyrical cargo
Wherever it goes
There's not any traffic
Just me on the road

The music is up
And the windows
Are down
Just me
And my violence
Out on the town

RAP POST: On My Job

They said don't quit your day job

Said I already did

Just to rhyme on my time

With no wife and no kid

I don't keep track of losses

I keep track of wins

And when I get one

Then I get one again

Ride my words like a bike

I just go for a spin

Think about it a second

And let it sink in

I'll be here for a minute

We're yet to begin

My words are precise

Like a crack to the chin

If you like them

Then keep them

They're yours now

You win

RAP POST: 10 Seconds of Fame

If you don't know the words
Get a dictionary
Cause I'm speaking my mind
And the vision is scary

Busting rhymes
On my down time
Cause I've got time
Cause my time's mine

I got more flows
Then shmoes
Who don't know
How it goes
Where I play

Here's ten seconds
Have your fame
Take a picture
Sign your name
If ain't pretty it's a shame
Cause being phony
Is being lame

Never fake it
Or you'll never make it
Only the real survive
But paying dues
And telling truths
Keep the dreams alive

Want to be an artist
And make a good mint
Then get outta bed
And start running sprints

Stand up
Tell your story
Don't be scared
It's pain for glory

Sometimes you gotta lose
Before you can win
Everyone Ks
Even T. Gwynn

The good ones keep swinging
Even after you miss
When the crowds don't cheer
When they boo and hiss
Until you knock a dinger
And win the game
Then they clap
And cheer your name
Cause you were the hero
In the final frame
You did it, it's yours
10 seconds of fame

A Cuban Paper Weight

I sat down to work in the shop today
It was hot and the fan kept blowing my papers
Rather than get mad
I imagined I was in a sweaty cafe in Cuba
With hot balls
I used my phone as a paper weight
And returned to my work
Happy

A Lonely Wanker, On A Lonely Night

I awoke last night
Bout a quarter to three
I heard the neighbors romping
And it wasn't just me

The other neighbors heard
And must have got excited
Because they had a romp too
Everyone was delighted

But then I got conscious
Of the fact I was alone
By myself in my bed
Hearing the neighbors bone

It made me want love
Or at least something like it
It can't be that far
If it is, then I'll bike it

The question is when?
And where?
And how?
These are the mysteries
No one knows now

All I know now
Is that I am here
Alone with my phone
And my neighbors in gear

What should I do?
Should I get up and fight?
Should I play the guitar?
Should I wank it?
Or write?

It seems that writing
Is all I can do
So I scribble the words
And give them to you

They make me feel better
About my plight
As a lonely wanker
On a lonely night

Art Post: Unconventional 7/10/19

Fat, Dumb, White America: How To Defeat A Government You Hate

Writing a song or a poem and sharing it publicly is just as valid a form of protest as taking to the streets.  In fact, it's even more valid for a couple of reasons.  First, a hit song can reach millions of people (particularly people who vote and people who will become leaders).  Second, great protest songs are passed down for generations.  I was born in 1984, which means I wasn't alive during the Vietnam war, but I still know the words to "Fortunate Son" by CCR and "For What It's Worth" by Buffalo Springfield. "This Land Is Your Land" is almost 80 years old and I'll bet you still know some of the words.

Protest is on my mind right now because I believe Trump has a good chance of winning re-election.  I believe that because I believe America is primarily fat, dumb and white (which is deeply disappointing).

So what can I do about it?  Write songs and poems and blogs in protest?  Absolutely.  I will continue to do that.  But what else?  How do you defeat a government that you hate?  Gandhi said to be the change you wish to see.  I wish to see an America that is healthy, intelligent and cultured (rather than fat, dumb and white).  With that said, I am going to take Gandhi's advice and continue working out, eating proper nutrition, educating myself, and remaining open minded to other people's ideas, cultures and lifestyles.  Making healthy lifestyle choices and educating yourself about other cultures are, in themselves, forms of protest in a country ruled by fat, dopey bigots.

That Being Said, I'm In A Great Mood

Today I was upset because my Mom said she is likely going back to work again.  My Mom has helped me a bunch of times since I went from attorney to whatever I am now.  I am either a bum or an entrepreneur.  I can't be sure either way, but I have to say that I work more than any bum I'm ever met.  I want my Mom to have a peaceful retirement and still get to do all the things she wants to do without having to work if she doesn't want to.  I think everyone would want that for their Mom.  She worked double time my whole life raising three kids and being a full-time junior high school teacher.  She deserves to retire.  And it breaks my heart when I have to ask her for money.

But then I saw the news today and saw what was happening in immigration camps and I thought, "At least I'm not in there."  They won't let any news or journalists in there for a reason.  These people are being malnourished and tortured.  And it's happening right in the middle of American cities next to the Subway and the University building.  People are just disappearing into these hell holes and being held indefinitely.  No showers.  No clothes.  Standing room only.  No place to lie down.  When inspectors showed up, people were pressed up against the window praying and begging to get out, holding signs showing how they long they'd been in there.  It was horrific.  If you've ever spent even one night in jail, you know how shitty that sounds.  And Lord knows these people aren't getting proper procedure on their hearings.  They're pulling people out of their homes and throwing them into cages.  Most of these people committed no crime other than exist in the United States.  They were rounded up and tortured for existing in the United States.  How disgusting.  This is a very dangerous standard we are setting.

So what should I do about it?  Am I supposed to go out and protest?  And am I supposed to go back to work as a lawyer and start trying to bail them out as fast as I can?  Or do I just write down my two cents and share it in a blog?

I chose to write my two cents and share it in a blog because that would serve the dual purposes of 1) publicly airing my grievances about the subject, and 2) giving me time to study for my NASM certification so I can start working at the gym again to support myself instead of having to beg and borrow.  Begging and borrowing make you feel like a bum.  I am not a bum.  Show me a bum whose activities match mine and show you no bum at all.

That being said, I am in a great mood.  I get to go back to my NASM studies.  I still don't have a clue how to help all those people locked up in immigration camps, but at least now I shared something about it.  I also prayed for them.  That sounds very cheap these days, but it isn't when I say it because I have faith.

Ornery

Sometimes I get ornery
When I get stuck in traffic
Or watch the news
But then Buddha tells me
There's no sense getting the blues

You can't be ornery
When you think about the good
I still have some weed
And I still have the hood

I have good company
And good keep
I have my own bed
And I get good sleep

There's food in the fridge
And water at the hole
The more I think about it
I have no reason to be ornery at all

Maybe Buddha was right
Some things you can't change
So it's wise to focus
On what's in range

The journey is inward
And it's a process of healings
When you stop being ornery
You get the right feelings

Ornery starts in the mind
And gets into the heart
It can consume anyone
No matter how smart

It turns friends into enemies
And boils your blood
It will always convince you
You're stuck in the mud

It's why I drink
And it's why I smoke
And it's why I meditate
And that's no joke

If I stopped being ornery
I might lose all my ills
I'd surely find new ones
But then I'd learn new skills