Drunkenfish/John

What a perfect looking place! Congratulations Sean and Sonya! You guys move quick.

Jim Stewart; I want to wish your father a happy birthday. He's always represented to me the mystery of manhood. I know how incredibly close you were to him. (Not all sons and fathers are that together.) Your love for him has always served for me to be the best example of true love that I've ever had. You told me so much about his attributes and character through the years and I believe every word to be true---so much so that I too feel his loss. I think often about what his loss meant to you. I wish every son had such a fine Dad and every Dad could have such a fine son.

You've always seemed to have been concerned about how much you have learned from the man. He died when you were so young. I just want to impart to you that I feel that you should rest assured that he gave you everything one needs to be a man. I never thought that a friend of mine, who was a year younger than I, could teach me about being a man; but you have. It's hard to explain but I learned a lot from your Dad through you.

So I am so happy to have known him through you as he lives on within you. You are such a great person, Jimmy. Which is all the proof I need to know that your father was indeed a great man.

After rereading my post from 3 o clock in the morning, I have to label that alcohol + fear + inspiration + semi-dramatic gospel poesy = who knows? I guess I was just getting all caught up in the stream of consciousness that I was floatin' down after reading JimA's Counterpunch link, Bill's idea about bin Laden, and the rest of this forum's insights etc. Conspiracy just makes your blood curdle doesn't it? It was good for me to just dig in last night and let my emotions loose for an hour or so. I slept like a baby but had the strangest dreams; can't even begin to describe them. I sincerely hope you all are handling this travesty. It's beyond horrible no matter how you slice it.

It's so strange how everytime I turn on the news, I seem to have almost forgotten what happened. It's not that I could forget, it's just that it's so hard to believe. Everytime it happens---the building goes down, and the plane never misses the building and those screams....inimitable. It's the empathy---immediate and unrelenting that one feels so heavily with every analysis and examination of Tuesday's terrible footage.

Jennifer seems to have cried enough for the both of us. She cries first and something inside me snaps to attention and so I comfort her bravely and without tears. It's not that I'm brave, it's just an instinct to take it like a zombie. Put a gun in my hand and you've got yourself a soldier.

It feels so good to finally release these emotions. It doesn't help the victimized families worth a shit, though. I can do what would be considered my duty from afar: giving blood, sending money, and praying. I've heard there's strength in prayer, and that's mainly why I do it. Sure enough, after 10 minutes of prayer have passed, I feel the Holy Spirit and I am duly strengthened and so too are the people that I've prayed for---so I believe. And I do believe.

It seems that at the top, one must keep their head tilted off to the side to stay properly in the dark. What do people, who don't waste their time squabbling about salvation, do while the rest of us pray? Now that's what I call an unfair advantage in the world of cannibal snakes. The touch that most can't live without is never felt by certain people.

Did FDR know? What's knowing? Ask Clinton what sex is. There was a luncheon where the intricate tones of laughter and the ordering of another round was all that needed to be agreed upon. How many shall die?

What do I know? I am a fool. I don't want to fight the demons---they scare me. I don't know who they are and I don't want to be able to discern the living and the dead. Let me sleep like a baby.

No.....let me see what the fuck is really going on! I will be a soldier and I will help slay the evil ones. Make me now like King David or Samson! Let me be your right hand and let the hand hold your sword!

The point...is something which my mind, at present, would find it impossible to concieve. I'm ok with that explanation. That's called trust. That would be true worship and acknowledging the fact that there is a Creator and He does Love you and as the Creator, He knows what the fuck is going on---don't worry!

But what for now, Lord? Is the president all mixed-up in some unspeakable evil? (unspeakable to the Fool---the eternal lamb who hasn't yet taken Christ's advice and entered into the language and deeds of snakes.)

When one speaks the truth, I believe that one takes his life into his own hands at the very moment one is brave enough to really speak it----and as soon as you do; you are slaughtered by the powers of Darkness. Therefore, be safe---lie. Get your three squares watch TV and shut the fuck up. There are too many people who have been waiting in the wrong line for the gold they think is coming to them---when you tell them that they are in the wrong line...after all the time they spent and invested in that line?!

I'm afraid to know the truth. I'm afraid to know what it is to really know something. For to really know something would be like high-speech. To really know would be synonymous with action. But action that swift seems reckless. Why move at all? Does one really have to go insane to become a man of decisiveness?
Don't you hate people that seem so convicted? Don't you trust doubt more than absolute assurity?

I am not afraid. Let us figure this shit out to the best of our knowledge and then act with strength to make real our convictions based on our notions and our thoughts as carefully constructed and fostered by our religion, culture, and teachers...and paradigm and genes and evolutionary status.

This is War! And what better defines humanity more than examples and snap-shots taken during war? We love war and consider it a gift from God. Every culture loves to kill because killing is the intensity that we come to eventually crave like sex. We fill with semen and pluck that apple off the Tree of Life and just as swiftly the gates close behind us as we spin around to see what happened all loney and east of Eden.

Someone with Photo Shop do me a favor please? See if you can't find a picture of Falwell and let's see....I'm thinkin' leather straps pulled taut over his flushed, pink skin, a bull-whip between his clenched teeth, and see that he's hand-cuffed to a bed of spikes with a big grin on his fat face while he reads Playgirl. Thanks. Oh yeah let's make sure that he's being urinated on by a choir boy and send it to the Vatican.

Ah---I feel better already. Sorry, just had to get that out of my system. A moment of levity---that is all. I can't tell you how impressed I am with everyone's insights and analysis. I've gained a wealth of information from you all. It seems that we are all on the same sheet. Can't think of anything important or that hasn't already been said. Peace.

When you look at the devastation, you think about the forces responsible. You may even start thinking about The End. I crashed into an epiphany last night as I contemplated what would make this kind of destruction acceptable. I thought about an attack from another galaxy: Us vs. the Aliens. An unforseen foe now challenging us to defend ourselves with whatever we've got. But this didn't come from the cosmos---it came from other human beings. If this leads to The End and we find ourselves standing tall before the Man---I already line-up behind the Guilty.

This country is far from innocent yet now we hold hands with each other like babes who have been awakened from a nightmare. My hope is that every country that's interested in coming together to help solve the larger problems of the world, will use this tragedy as the catalyst for true change. I do not wish to simply start dropping bombs on everyone whom we decide are more guilty than ourselves. It becomes a memory game and the game of politics and placating certain ignorant assholes goes tumbling forward into yet another disaster.

I'm preparing myself for the worst but I've been hearing reports of solid communication with many countries going on. I hope this means that the World will see this as Our problem. I don't know that we deserve the world's cooperation because I can't remember when I've ever wept for any other countries tragedies. But there's so much underneath the surface of all this. There's so many sociological concepts that the world has to bite into in order to truly understand the nature of violence and warfare. We always seem to take the black and white way out of it. It's time to deal with the shades of gray that truly color the reality of exsistence.

This is beyond words.

Jen's just asked me to try and contact our friends in NYC. I'm home because the restaurant will be closed tonight. I'm glued to the screen. Something horrible is just beginning.

Like JimR and Ben have mentioned, I hope we can act with restraint. This is too shocking to write about.

It's hard to even imagine all the families that are suffering right now.

There's nothing like the kind of laughter that compels you to clap your hands, thank-you, Amos!

Great pics, JimA; and another awesome dream from Sean.

I wish I could help you Becky but the only thing I know about floats is root beer.

Welcome back, Jason; and where the fuck are you Hank?

I know two things after reading today's posts: 1) I need to watch Twin Peaks, 2) I am totally against circumcision (and I'm not even sure I can spell it.)

I am opposed to all circumcisions. You see, I am left to draw only one conclusion, as I stare at what's left of my dangling manhood: that during my circumcision, they must've accidentally removed a good portion of the original penis.
Now like all good mushrooms, the head obviously grew back. However, ten inches is the only acceptable length for a man of my stature; but, sadly, I see that there's a few missing. (ok...four)

I'm sure it was all very amusing at the time. And whoever did this to me was evidently not a Catholic. For the longest time I thought it had something to do with the Irish blood that neatly courses through my veins like Dante with a megaphone. But then I found-out, to my astonishment, that indeed, sometime around the hour of my unfortunate birth, the same pair of scissors that was previously applied to my umbilical chord, was again used agin my budding shaft!

This, of course, makes it all too clear to me and now serves as the only possible, sure-fire explanation. I've heard of jealous surgeons but this is ridiculous. A man should be able to hold on to the full extent of his masculinity. (And besides, that extra skin could sure help out in certain positions.)

Also, I find circumcisions to be distasteful. They leave a bitter, filmy residue and no matter how much the pot collects, I will have nothing to do with them. I'm strictly a Wrigley's man.

Chris; I know what that picture is all about. You see, Nixon, not only recorded conversations from behind his desk; he also picked his toe-nails. Can anyone honestly say that they're able to resist the heady aroma of a freshly picked, dirty toe-nail? Dean and the boys took a collection and put together a little birthday package: a sampler of current oval office toe jam (making sure, of course, that nothing drys out---that's why the tape etc.) What we're seeing in this picture is Nixon, much like a cat to catnip, losing all control amidst the television cameras that he became completely oblivious to (evidence to the power of toe.)

I feel like a zombie. I feel like I should not feel like a zombie. But still---there's the zombie. You see, I've been recently hired by a rather swanky restaurant corporation that's based out of New York. Everyone's posts (esp. Phil's) concerning it's not what you do---it's who you are have been greatly helpful to me. I've begun to realize that happiness is just where you find it or where you let it happen etc.
Anyway, this establishment is a 5-star steakhouse that I'm lucky to have been hired at because the $ potential is outrageous (for this line of work.) Servers need to have an extensive knowledge of cigars and wine and steaks etc.

On my first day of orientation I was handed many packets of information to study. Lucky for me I know a lot of this shit but I didn't know anything about cigars. I don't really want to know about them but any form of knowledge appeals to my diletanteish nature. So what does this have to do with being a zombie. I don't know. I think I feel like a zombie when I become overly nervous. I find the idea of starching my shirts everyday and looking like a high-energy wine and cigar expert, not so appealing somehow. But I'm trying to kick myself in the ass because it's going to be great money and it promises to be (with the right attitude) a lot of fun.

But, you see, I'd rather not work at all. Trying hard at something does not settle well with me. How hard must I try with this? Not that much, but still...I simply want to be awakened when it's over and then go back to sleep.
Now that's decidedly not a winning attitude. Tony Robbins would find it imperative to take a dump on me. I shall never ever take the summer off again because it's just too damn hard to go back to work. I'm not my inner child or man or teen; I am my inner new-born and I'm crying. But yet no sound escapes nor any emotion; and that is why, my friends, I am a zombie.

Yes, Sean, I believe your right! : )
I haven't met anyone who can't relate, though. I actually had to physically dispose of Diablo, Thief 2, and some other games so there was no way of playing them. I thought to myself that maybe I'm missing out on seeing these discs in my later years and smiling to myself as I behold them or give 'em a spin for old time sake, but then I thought: I won't have any later years if I keep this shit around. So, like Bill, I swore off. I do have Unreal Tournament---I haven't tried that one yet. I came into a bunch of games when I bought my Creative software package. Sounds like Unreal would be the end of me.

JimS; great post. As far as the shampoo---do what I do: give your pubes the over-pour for a surprise lathering. Rinse and repeat!
Remember: there's hair all over your body---let's not neglect the hidden folicles.

Amos & Chris; thanks for the onions! I've just started their new best of compilation.

Man, I love to hear about these stage dives at GBV shows etc. You guys are maniacs! I need to get myself to some shows.

I woke-up thinking about whether or not Deep Space 9 was using sexual inuendo to come up with their name.
Where Deep Space 6 is average
Deep Space 7: good man
Deep Space 8: Hello Stranger
Deep Space 9: Mama, you just don't understand him.
See with 10 you wouldn't have a show. And DS11 or 12 would be shown on Cinemax. Deep Space 13 to 20, alright I've exhausted this thing. Sorry, I'm not quite awake yet---seems to always be the case.