driving home tonight, it hit me. hard. the loss, that realization that an influence is gone from my life, that i've learned all i can from him.
part of what's bothering me, i think, is the recent recognition of my slowly fading awareness of the spiritual world. i can't say how it happened...i just don't think about it like i used to. not that i don't believe...i just don't think about it.
he taught me well. i'll never forget what i learned while he was here, the stuff he said. "women will come and go, but friends are forever." "you can work the rest of your life, play while you can." "it's just stuff." and, of course, "...but you can't do that now!"
it's easy to forget, sometimes, that he's not there. i used to be wonder whether he'd be proud, if he could see me today. a while back i realized it didn't matter what i did, how i was, who i slept with, what trouble i got into...of course he'd be proud of me. he loved me, and no matter how deep i got, he would always smile, roll up his sleeves, and find some way to laugh at the situation.
i try to do that myself, now. shake it off, cowboy up. find a way to laugh.
so here's to you, Dad. i know you're around somewhere, and i just want to say: you raised me right. a little rough around the edges, but good job.
i can take it from here.
thank you.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
dead dogs and false gods
So I'm sitting in the Oxford in downtown Missoula between the god-forsaken hours of three and four, enjoying the bent remains of a cigarette over a steaming cup of coffee and a half-eaten fried egg sandwich. The ladies behind the counter banter easily with the customers, mostly greasy late-night blue-collars and small packs of frail, giggling emo kids.
The whole night probably would have gone unnoticed, unremarkable and par for the course, if I had not been idly eying the muted television in the corner of the room. As it was, I happened to be watching when news of a now-homeless octuplet mother was suddenly interrupted by the red and flashing announcement of “BREAKING NEWS”.
So yeah. I can honestly say that I remember exactly where I was sitting when Mickey Rourke's dog died.
Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against Mickey Rourke. Aside from the role of Marv in Sin City, where he did a fantastic job, I can honestly say that I do not have an opinion about Mickey Rourke one way or the other. I'm sure he's a great person.
That being said, why should I care about his dog?
Did this dog perform any heroic feats during the course of its life? Doubtful. Was it a rare breed slowly dwindling into extinction? No, it was a chihuahua, a miserable breed inexplicably far too plentiful in this country, a quivering pseudo-rat mutant. As far as I can tell, the only thing special about this creature was the fact that it just happened to belong to Mickey Rourke.
What I can't figure out, what I keep coming back to, is why this nonsense is being tossed around, publicized, and openly discussed as though it is actual news. Newsflash: dogs die. For some reason, old and sickly dogs seem to die more often than young, healthy dogs. What we're really discussing here is not the fact that a good dog died so much as the fact that a dog belonging to a celebrity died. The only way I could be more irritated is if I saw this amount of publicity when Paris Hilton's neglected mongrel finally choked on a used condom.
Has our celebrity-worship finally come this far? These people are not gods, or even anywhere close, as much as Tom Cruise would like to think so. They are human beings who are paid ridiculous amounts of money to entertain you and, according to some schools of thought, keep you stupid and docile. They are not special, they are no better than any one of you. Some of them are even arguably worse than the average scum on the street, and because our culture elevates them to the status of heroes, they are able to shrug off the consequences.
So why do we put up with this foolish nonsense? In this time of struggle we have people starving to death in gutters within a mile of where an actor or sports hero is grudgingly selling their second or third home. On one end of the country a couple wonders how they are going to pay for a life-saving surgery, while on the other an oversexed rap artist settles out of court, parting with three times the cost of the surgery without batting an eye.
I've proudly told many people that one memory I will always treasure is seeing Paris Hilton wail like an abused child as she was carefully loaded into the back of a cop car. This is why. You treat someone like they shit gold for long enough, they will begin to believe it. This is a group of people so adapted to our devotion, they don't even have the decency to be embarrassed by the attention they get.
Why do we allow this to continue? If we choose to continue believing that everyone gets a fair shake in this society, can't we at least be reasonable when it comes to our economic worth? If anyone deserves to be paid ridiculous sums of money just for getting up in the morning, why not someone performing a vital service instead of an entertainer? Doctors, cops and teachers all over the country scrape by as a drug-addled rapper drinks fine wine from a jewel-encrusted mug.
Strangely, I've noticed a similar pattern pertaining to senators. I'm sure it's merely a coincidence.
The whole night probably would have gone unnoticed, unremarkable and par for the course, if I had not been idly eying the muted television in the corner of the room. As it was, I happened to be watching when news of a now-homeless octuplet mother was suddenly interrupted by the red and flashing announcement of “BREAKING NEWS”.
So yeah. I can honestly say that I remember exactly where I was sitting when Mickey Rourke's dog died.
Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against Mickey Rourke. Aside from the role of Marv in Sin City, where he did a fantastic job, I can honestly say that I do not have an opinion about Mickey Rourke one way or the other. I'm sure he's a great person.
That being said, why should I care about his dog?
Did this dog perform any heroic feats during the course of its life? Doubtful. Was it a rare breed slowly dwindling into extinction? No, it was a chihuahua, a miserable breed inexplicably far too plentiful in this country, a quivering pseudo-rat mutant. As far as I can tell, the only thing special about this creature was the fact that it just happened to belong to Mickey Rourke.
What I can't figure out, what I keep coming back to, is why this nonsense is being tossed around, publicized, and openly discussed as though it is actual news. Newsflash: dogs die. For some reason, old and sickly dogs seem to die more often than young, healthy dogs. What we're really discussing here is not the fact that a good dog died so much as the fact that a dog belonging to a celebrity died. The only way I could be more irritated is if I saw this amount of publicity when Paris Hilton's neglected mongrel finally choked on a used condom.
Has our celebrity-worship finally come this far? These people are not gods, or even anywhere close, as much as Tom Cruise would like to think so. They are human beings who are paid ridiculous amounts of money to entertain you and, according to some schools of thought, keep you stupid and docile. They are not special, they are no better than any one of you. Some of them are even arguably worse than the average scum on the street, and because our culture elevates them to the status of heroes, they are able to shrug off the consequences.
So why do we put up with this foolish nonsense? In this time of struggle we have people starving to death in gutters within a mile of where an actor or sports hero is grudgingly selling their second or third home. On one end of the country a couple wonders how they are going to pay for a life-saving surgery, while on the other an oversexed rap artist settles out of court, parting with three times the cost of the surgery without batting an eye.
I've proudly told many people that one memory I will always treasure is seeing Paris Hilton wail like an abused child as she was carefully loaded into the back of a cop car. This is why. You treat someone like they shit gold for long enough, they will begin to believe it. This is a group of people so adapted to our devotion, they don't even have the decency to be embarrassed by the attention they get.
Why do we allow this to continue? If we choose to continue believing that everyone gets a fair shake in this society, can't we at least be reasonable when it comes to our economic worth? If anyone deserves to be paid ridiculous sums of money just for getting up in the morning, why not someone performing a vital service instead of an entertainer? Doctors, cops and teachers all over the country scrape by as a drug-addled rapper drinks fine wine from a jewel-encrusted mug.
Strangely, I've noticed a similar pattern pertaining to senators. I'm sure it's merely a coincidence.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
January 20th, 2009
The sun rose as it always did, noticed dimly through the unrelenting cloud cover. People rose from their beds, showered, dressed, and ate hurried breakfasts before moving on to what jobs were still available. People put on heavy coats against the lingering chill of years past, and cameramen checked their gear alongside optimistic teens checking cell and camera phones. A handful of paranoid mountain men hopped in their pickups and made one last run to pawn and gun shops, convinced that they would not get a second chance. Somewhere, a journalist snarled and lit a cigarette in the same city that a gay couple sat holding hands in front of a television. At exactly ten o'clock mountain time, in one small corner of the internet, a timer finally hit zero, winked off, and was forgotten.
Change was in the air.
Say what you will about Governor Bush, the Boy King. It matters not what we thought of the decisions made or the motions passed in recent years, as at this juncture we have nothing to gain from casting blame or pointing fingers. The past is past, and all that matters now is how to move on, to thrive yet again in the face of certain peril.
A sea of color and smiling faces radiates from the capitol, still thick at the base of the Washington Monument about a mile away, the likes of which some have never seen, and aren't likely to see again. People of different races and creeds, both young and old, the well-to-do rubbing shoulders with the barely-getting-by. Americans, all. The rumbling of the celebratory cannons is still only distant thunder under the wave of cheers of these people gathered.
Elected in a time of crisis beyond the botched war that has taken so much, the President is not naive about the task set before him. This has marked itself as a historical time, not by chance of race, but by the sudden awakening of people long comfortable with the niche, the groove they had been worn into and the holes they would otherwise be buried in. We have long descended into a hell of our own making, through our tolerance for selfishness and our willingness to be led. Long ago, a wise man told me that no one really wants to hear the truth. This day, I happily saw the people of this nation prove a wise man wrong.
It is humbling to hold witness to a speaker of this nature, a man who captures and holds your attention in spite of yourself. They have been around, I understand, but in my lifetime I have not born witness to such a man before today. He speaks of unity, of joining together as the world falls apart. He speaks of how far we've come, the acts of greatness that history has shown us to be capable of. Can I tell you how much fear is in me? Can I convey how my hope swells with each uninterrupted word? The task before us is what it is, and it is, to say the least, daunting. The President (and how long has it been since I've proudly been able to use that word respectfully!) meets the future before us on his feet, unflinching, and smiling.
This is a pivotal time in our history. We have existed through crisis before and succeeded. We must do so again. For too long we have segregated ourselves, pitting ourselves again “them”, whoever they might be this week. Neighbors have been wary to join hands with one another, simply on foolish notions such as sexual orientation, class, or race. We have become the United Selves of America, and it has brought us to the very brink of ruin. Now, at long last, we have a chance to redefine ourselves in the light of the world, to be something different in the eyes of our brothers across nations.
I am honored by the chance to see such a change in my lifetime. These will be the days we look back upon and smile, and I cannot wait to tell my children of the days to come.
Change was in the air.
Say what you will about Governor Bush, the Boy King. It matters not what we thought of the decisions made or the motions passed in recent years, as at this juncture we have nothing to gain from casting blame or pointing fingers. The past is past, and all that matters now is how to move on, to thrive yet again in the face of certain peril.
A sea of color and smiling faces radiates from the capitol, still thick at the base of the Washington Monument about a mile away, the likes of which some have never seen, and aren't likely to see again. People of different races and creeds, both young and old, the well-to-do rubbing shoulders with the barely-getting-by. Americans, all. The rumbling of the celebratory cannons is still only distant thunder under the wave of cheers of these people gathered.
Elected in a time of crisis beyond the botched war that has taken so much, the President is not naive about the task set before him. This has marked itself as a historical time, not by chance of race, but by the sudden awakening of people long comfortable with the niche, the groove they had been worn into and the holes they would otherwise be buried in. We have long descended into a hell of our own making, through our tolerance for selfishness and our willingness to be led. Long ago, a wise man told me that no one really wants to hear the truth. This day, I happily saw the people of this nation prove a wise man wrong.
It is humbling to hold witness to a speaker of this nature, a man who captures and holds your attention in spite of yourself. They have been around, I understand, but in my lifetime I have not born witness to such a man before today. He speaks of unity, of joining together as the world falls apart. He speaks of how far we've come, the acts of greatness that history has shown us to be capable of. Can I tell you how much fear is in me? Can I convey how my hope swells with each uninterrupted word? The task before us is what it is, and it is, to say the least, daunting. The President (and how long has it been since I've proudly been able to use that word respectfully!) meets the future before us on his feet, unflinching, and smiling.
This is a pivotal time in our history. We have existed through crisis before and succeeded. We must do so again. For too long we have segregated ourselves, pitting ourselves again “them”, whoever they might be this week. Neighbors have been wary to join hands with one another, simply on foolish notions such as sexual orientation, class, or race. We have become the United Selves of America, and it has brought us to the very brink of ruin. Now, at long last, we have a chance to redefine ourselves in the light of the world, to be something different in the eyes of our brothers across nations.
I am honored by the chance to see such a change in my lifetime. These will be the days we look back upon and smile, and I cannot wait to tell my children of the days to come.
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
I'll be your friend
Possibly the strangest experience I've ever had is that of rejecting someone, especially when it's someone who wants to be with me.
In the biblical sense. You know what I mean.
Luckily, it does not happen at all often. Some old baboushka once said that, in every relationship, there is the chaser and there is the person being chased. For the most part, I have always been a chaser. As a chaser, I should not have to turn people down...it goes against the very nature of the thing. And yet, I have discovered that there are people in this world who chase even harder than I.
It's an uncomfortable feeling, especially when there are mutual feelings of attraction, which leaves me feeling more than a little confused. I mean, why not accept someone who wants me, especially if part of me wants them as well, even the slightest bit? Unfortunately, the only answer I have to offer is lame and explains nothing: I don't want to.
I've thought about the Marxist approach to this...the Groucho Marxist approach, stating "I don't care to belong to any club that will have me as a member." A very good point, and I'm sure it plays a part, but then there's also the case of "friend versus partner"...that is, I know I can be friends with someone, but I do not know if I could have or keep them as a partner. Friends are wonderful, especially the kind of friends you can call in the ungodly hours of morning, friends who accept you as the eccentric freak that you are...but then, how many friends have I kissed during the night for reassurance, or held in silence just because I was afraid of coming apart?
Not many. Read: none.
My dad was fond of saying "girls will come and go, but friends are forever." I like to believe I've been fairly true to that. When I've come screaching to a stop, battered and broken and bleeding out of every orriface, there is no partner at my side, believing in me even in my self-destruction. When I can't crawl anymore and I need someone to carry me, I don't have a partner and none would stand with me...that's what friends are for.
I am still looking for a relationship, a partner, and I prolly won't stop until I find the one that sticks. If none sticks, fine...I'll miss what a relationship has to offer, but I would rather lose out on the affection, the support, the intimacy, than corrupt friendships by looking for intimacy where it should not be.
Here's to you guys. It would be great, but being able to talk to you is more important to me than seeing you naked.
Cheers.
In the biblical sense. You know what I mean.
Luckily, it does not happen at all often. Some old baboushka once said that, in every relationship, there is the chaser and there is the person being chased. For the most part, I have always been a chaser. As a chaser, I should not have to turn people down...it goes against the very nature of the thing. And yet, I have discovered that there are people in this world who chase even harder than I.
It's an uncomfortable feeling, especially when there are mutual feelings of attraction, which leaves me feeling more than a little confused. I mean, why not accept someone who wants me, especially if part of me wants them as well, even the slightest bit? Unfortunately, the only answer I have to offer is lame and explains nothing: I don't want to.
I've thought about the Marxist approach to this...the Groucho Marxist approach, stating "I don't care to belong to any club that will have me as a member." A very good point, and I'm sure it plays a part, but then there's also the case of "friend versus partner"...that is, I know I can be friends with someone, but I do not know if I could have or keep them as a partner. Friends are wonderful, especially the kind of friends you can call in the ungodly hours of morning, friends who accept you as the eccentric freak that you are...but then, how many friends have I kissed during the night for reassurance, or held in silence just because I was afraid of coming apart?
Not many. Read: none.
My dad was fond of saying "girls will come and go, but friends are forever." I like to believe I've been fairly true to that. When I've come screaching to a stop, battered and broken and bleeding out of every orriface, there is no partner at my side, believing in me even in my self-destruction. When I can't crawl anymore and I need someone to carry me, I don't have a partner and none would stand with me...that's what friends are for.
I am still looking for a relationship, a partner, and I prolly won't stop until I find the one that sticks. If none sticks, fine...I'll miss what a relationship has to offer, but I would rather lose out on the affection, the support, the intimacy, than corrupt friendships by looking for intimacy where it should not be.
Here's to you guys. It would be great, but being able to talk to you is more important to me than seeing you naked.
Cheers.
Saturday, April 05, 2008
eology for someone I never met
This morning feels surreal, at best. At worst, intimidating…like the still-peaceful beginning of a nightmare. Impending…“something wicked this way comes”. Don’t tell me I’m being paranoid, I’ve seen enough hell to recognize that heavy drumming in the distance.
Someone I never met died. It affected good people. Given the situation, it’s not like I can say anything to help, or even offer my condolences, but I’ve known that pain before, and it makes me want to do something. I wish there was something that could be done, but how do you even try to talk to someone who has just stepped into an entirely different world, an unknown, colder place fraught with unsympathetic eyes and automatons with functions of their own?
People tried, when this sort of thing happened before. Maybe it helps others, sometimes, I don’t know. Maybe it’s something you never really get over. Perhaps you’re not supposed to, but instead we’re meant to carry that pain like a scar, an eternal memory of someone gone. Rough, horrible, and I wouldn’t wish such pain upon my worst enemies. Just as bad and maybe worse, I think, to experience that pain again…and again.
Do you ever wish you had some piece of wisdom to offer, something that will bring understanding to those who need it so desperately? I do, more often than I care to think about. The sad truth is I have no wisdom…especially when it comes to death. I don’t know why it happens, not really, and I can’t tell you for certain what it is to die. I do know that a good man is no longer with us, and I’m sure that his presence will be sorely missed.
It’s not my place to speak on this subject. Indeed, I don’t even know if my feelings will be accepted, or if these words shall be seen as an intrusion, into a world in which I have no place. If so, so be it…these are my thoughts, and I present them only for your consideration, not your approval. Shalom.
Friday, October 12, 2007
Consider this an investment!
eBay has thrilled and pleased me more times than I care to mention. Often I'll find myself looking at something I held as a child, or something so rare that I count myself lucky to even see it. I don't even buy anything, most of the time...I simply enjoy perusing this digital marketplace, watching as shoppers haggle, each with their own method, a modern retelling of the port-based shops of old.
Today, I've found something that almost literally knocked me out of my chair. I share with you simply because this is something far too wonderful to keep to myself.
Behold, the future home to the Burning West!
This 57 acre property is just an hour and a half west of Spokane, contains 16 underground buildings (up to and including a 160-foot-tall missile silo and two 100+ foot domes), and is currently available for just $1,500,000!!!
Do I have a one and a half million? No. Do I even have the $300,000 required for a down-payment? Not even close. Is that going to stop me from some day converting this missile silo into my ultimate home and lair, a fortress against the further expanse of stupidity across this great nation??
Not a chance in hell.
Let it be known that as of this moment I am accepting donations. All parties interested in helping a fine cause please feel free to email, and all other interested parties please note that I am willing to co-own the base with as many as three parties. Again, if anyone is interested in co-owning a Titan Missile Base, or donating to the fund for the new home of the Burning West, please email me at
For further information on the silo, please visit the silo's homepage here! Bids on behalf of the Burning West are greatly appreciate. Bids against the Burning West will be met with generous helpings of ultraviolence.
Today, I've found something that almost literally knocked me out of my chair. I share with you simply because this is something far too wonderful to keep to myself.
Behold, the future home to the Burning West!
This 57 acre property is just an hour and a half west of Spokane, contains 16 underground buildings (up to and including a 160-foot-tall missile silo and two 100+ foot domes), and is currently available for just $1,500,000!!!
Do I have a one and a half million? No. Do I even have the $300,000 required for a down-payment? Not even close. Is that going to stop me from some day converting this missile silo into my ultimate home and lair, a fortress against the further expanse of stupidity across this great nation??
Not a chance in hell.
Let it be known that as of this moment I am accepting donations. All parties interested in helping a fine cause please feel free to email, and all other interested parties please note that I am willing to co-own the base with as many as three parties. Again, if anyone is interested in co-owning a Titan Missile Base, or donating to the fund for the new home of the Burning West, please email me at
For further information on the silo, please visit the silo's homepage here! Bids on behalf of the Burning West are greatly appreciate. Bids against the Burning West will be met with generous helpings of ultraviolence.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
INFECTED
The injustice of this empire continues to infuriate and confound me. It's not just this pet war, which is the source of endless tears and countless sorrows, nor is it the lies that have broken and confused us, led us into a constant state of fear.
No, more maddening than these is the inexplicable way which We The People continue to put up with it all.
This is old news, now, and the days since the third of October have been nothing but a blur of chemical self-mutilation and ultraviolence. I speak of course of the use of the Boy King's fourth veto, which brought a merciless end to the State Children's Health Insurance Program. This program, which cost $35 billion over the course of five years, promised insurance to children whose parents could not otherwise afford it. Apparently Bush is completely oblivious to the needs of "the little people", i.e. those who didn't grow up having their asses wiped with fifty-dollar bills.
Before anyone gets on me about this, please consider: The Boy King's pet war has, to date, cost this country almost $500 billion. That's right; $500 billion to chase down shadows and occupy an unwilling country, that's okay. $35 billion for little poor children, that's too much.
And just think: this is the same cum stain that vetoed embryonic stem cell research because he didn't want to "violate the dignity of human life."
I can forgive someone for voting for Bush. Truly, I can. I can even forgive someone for voting for him twice. I'm sure you have your reasons. Where my patience ends is when all those who understand, all those who behold the workings of the Boy King and do nothing.
All that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing. How much evil will We The People allow before we start fighting back?
No, more maddening than these is the inexplicable way which We The People continue to put up with it all.
This is old news, now, and the days since the third of October have been nothing but a blur of chemical self-mutilation and ultraviolence. I speak of course of the use of the Boy King's fourth veto, which brought a merciless end to the State Children's Health Insurance Program. This program, which cost $35 billion over the course of five years, promised insurance to children whose parents could not otherwise afford it. Apparently Bush is completely oblivious to the needs of "the little people", i.e. those who didn't grow up having their asses wiped with fifty-dollar bills.
Before anyone gets on me about this, please consider: The Boy King's pet war has, to date, cost this country almost $500 billion. That's right; $500 billion to chase down shadows and occupy an unwilling country, that's okay. $35 billion for little poor children, that's too much.
And just think: this is the same cum stain that vetoed embryonic stem cell research because he didn't want to "violate the dignity of human life."
I can forgive someone for voting for Bush. Truly, I can. I can even forgive someone for voting for him twice. I'm sure you have your reasons. Where my patience ends is when all those who understand, all those who behold the workings of the Boy King and do nothing.
All that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing. How much evil will We The People allow before we start fighting back?
----------------------~*~----------------------
Hey kids! Check out the current price of the president's War on Terror!
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