This looks like it may or may not be good...

Hey, I just said it may or may not be good...didn't say I endorsed it.

And you shake her 'til she sings

I've been thinking a lot of about the girl a lot. I think about her constantly. And while I think things are going well with us, I have my doubts that it will ever be just okay. She told me that this phase isn't going to last forever. I have my doubts because she's going to come back a whole different person. And while I sit here and wait for her like a sucker, I have this urge to just move on without her.

In other news, Ennui Prayer may finally have a niche as I am now in the works of writing a serial sort of thing. The project still doesn't have a name, but I'm getting help from Philosopher, Rev. Adam Zuniga and El Senor. We'll see where this gets me.

I'd give up forever to touch you...

Sometimes I feel like that movie City of Angels, minus the whole mythological being falling from grace in order of being with the imperfect human he has fallen in love with. Also, minus that imperfect being stupidly neglecting to pay attention to anything as she's riding her bike and winds up getting killed. And minus the fact that I think god in someway is punishing me....Now that I think about it, this is nothing like that movie at all.

Go ahead and tell me you'll leave again...

I got some news that should be disturbing today, but I'm not disturbed by it at all. For the most part, I don't think it's true or likely. And if it were, then it might be the end of something and perhaps the end of me. I haven't told anyone and I probably won't. This is only between me and the bearer of the news because frankly, there isn't a thing any one of you can do to help me through this. I've been wrapping my head around suicide for a while now. No, this isn't a suicidal blog, and I haven't reached 90 Day Jane status yet. However, I do have a lot to think about if things are in fact what the bearer say they are. We'll see in a few months, I suppose. If I'm still here, then I'm still here. If not, then I'm somewhere else and things have gotten far worse than I can handle.

There'll be more of this tomorrow

Everyone's going gaga over the Miley Cyrus photo for Vanity Fair. The conservatives over at Disney - a.k.a. Nazi Child Wonderland - are fumed by it, stating that the magazine and photographer manipulated Miley into doing the spread. Now I'm not one to poke my head into the business of Hollywood, that isn't what this blog is about - what is it about? I dunno, I'll tell you next Thursday. But something caught my attention about the whole ordeal. People were seeing her as this virginal role model gone the way of Britney Spears. First of all, the photo isn't as bad as people are making it out to be. Like Marilyn Manson said in his book, The Long Hard Road Out of Hell, (and I'm paraphrasing because I'm too fucking lazy to look for the quote) what you see is what you are. If you see child pornography, or some suggestive photo in something that is clearly neither, then you are what you want to see, the pervert.

There will be more of this tomorrow on Sex Wednesdays

Let's just die together

El Senor says I have a weird relationship with Jyg. I told him, it could be stranger. Thing is, I think what ever relationship we have now is absolutely strange and new to me. I've never been best friends with someone who has hurt me in such a way. I'd go into details, but I'd rather not. You all don't even know the half of it.

And then some

"God has got his phone off the hook, babe
Would he even pick up if he could?
It's been a while since we saw that child
Hanging round this neighbourhood
See his mother dealing in a doorway
See Father Christmas with a begging bowl
Jesus' sister's eyes are a blister
The High Street never looked so low"

Sometimes it feels that if there were a god up there in the sky, s/he left the phone off the hook eons ago. Human life no longer matters to the divine. We no longer strive to be accepted. And that is great in its own way. But depression is bad. I see a lot of believers who haven't been poisoned still thinking there is good in this world. It's worth fighting for, I suppose. Sometimes I want to give up.

It was one of those days

Alarm Clock Problems - Click here for more home videos

I woke up a little congested and my chest was pounding beneath my skin. The day was going to be great. At least the rain made it feel like it might be worth anything. I made my way out of my bed, down to the bathroom to brush my teeth and take a leak (too much info?). I probably scratched my ass along the way as well, which, in case you needed to know, I do ritually. Ask anyone who's ever slept with me. Okay, enough with the whole thing. Most of what I said was true, just not the gross stuff as that was only for color. I stumbled over to my computer, signed in and decided I was going to have menudo for breakfast - no, not the the Latin sensation all boy under 13 group, the actual dish. I decided I only wanted to do cannabis earlier this week because I wanted to be able to say I'm doing something that's not normally me. I don't smoke cannabis by choice, not because of what those fucking "Above the Influence" lying PSAs suggests. Speaking of cannabis, I really want this book.

Afterward, Jyg came over and we ate more menudo, finishing the last of it in a matter of only two days. We then went shopping where I bought Rick Moody's The Diviners for only one dollar at a local dollar store. We thought about other things while we were out, but nothing really fell through. I suppose this friendship business is a little hard and shaky, especially when you want nothing more than to grab her hand and hug her close to you. Nothing's really changed. Nothing but the routine.

Stitche me up, please

Couch Potatoes Unite!

When ShowTime announced the ending of The L Word the world of possible of lesbians and men exploded with a petition to save the show. They compared it to the time Friday Night Lights was saved by viewer force, when reality, had the viewers actually tuned in to the mundane, yet extraordinary, show, it wouldn't have been threatened with a pull.

Now time has come for Wildfire to end, as the ABC Family promo suggests:

And again, viewers across the country are hitting their keys to save a show that isn't be canceled, but simply ending. What viewers and fans seem to fail to grasp is that when a show has had its time it comes to an end. Can you imagine if Cheers, Friends, or Seinfeld had continued on? What about the once a hit show, Full House (noticed how I failed to link this one) was still going on with the Olsen twins no longer cute and adorable, but painfully annoying.

TV shows end. The reason petitions weren't as popular as they used to be is because no one had the internet 20 years ago. And for that matter, 10 years ago, not everyone has easy access to it. Besides, when a TV show ends, you are no longer bound to it. You can then, you know, go read a book.

Adsense is funny

So I started using for a while now. Nothing too extravagant comes out of it, but it's what I do to get attention and butts in the seats. Most of the people reading are people that know me and because I left my writing niche back at the WordPress account and with the demise of my relationship with Jyg. But never fear, Adsense is here! So you know, I can read the links that are posted all over the page just as long as I don't click on them because that's breaking the rules. In fact there are a lot of rules and I'm not sure if talking about Adsense is one of them. I know that I can't tell you something - I won't say it because that would be like telling you - but I don't ever remember reading this little tidbit of pointing out one their ads that amused me in such a way that I just have to call attention to it.

Because my relationship with Jyg has ended, it seems that the ad at the bottom of the page (click picture because by the time you read this, it just might not be there) is telling me to throw in the towel. Again, because I can't click on the ad, I will never know what's behind it and where it will lead me to. That's just something I have to live with.

This post is going to sound a little Sex Wednesdayish, minus the porn and the scantily clad women whose boyfriends/husbands felt the need to post their pics online for assholes like me to expose, but I digress. According to the book The Average American:

"The average American's sex life starts at sixteen and the average American adult has sex 116 times per year and has 14.3 sexual partners in his life time."

This leaves me at 11.3 people short of being average. Yes, I just admitted that I'm a 25 year-old man who's only had 3 partners in his life and was wishing that his last partner would be his last partner. Now, nothing is for sure and nothing will ever be a sure thing, because in this world there is only faith and doubt and nothing can be an absolute. But to find another 11.3 people to sleep with? C'mon! I don't even know where to find a .3 of a person, let alone 11 people to have sex with. And I don't want to do that because sex is supposed to be emotional.

Oh wait, there I go again, not being a "man." Well, fucking and screwing doesn't make you a man. Setting down and laying roots does. I admitted a lot things today that I should've admitted along time ago. I've always had the habit of waiting too long and letting things go before I realized that I should have said more, or done things differently.

Tonight, I have a date with Jyg. Tonight was supposed to be the last night I ever saw her, or ever talked to her again. And I couldn't do it because no matter what has happened between us, I can't stop loving her.

So I won't be looking for a new Mexican bride that Adsense states is waiting for me behind the link. I'll just be here waiting until something is made apparent or I'm in the arms of the lover I so desperately long for.

Lost in Translation

MEXICAN INTERPRETER

Un mexicano busca un amigo, también mexicano, para que lo ayude en la traducción con un doctor.

En el consultorio del doctor:

Doctor: What's wrong with your friend?

Amigo: Dice el doctor ¿Que es lo que tienes?

Mexicano: Dile que me duele en medio de las paletas y el dolor me sube hasta la sien.

Amigo: He says that his popsicles hurt in the middle and it goes up to the one hundred!

Doctor: What else?

Amigo: Que mas tienes?

Mexicano: Las muñecas me duelen mucho en las mañanas.

Amigo: He say his dolls hurt very much in the mornings.

Doctor: Tell your friend he is mentally retarded.

Amigo: El doctor dice que te pongas mentolato por las tardes

Silence

I've kept my own sexuality under wraps because it cost me a relationship in the past. Anyone who knows me since high school, knows what I'm talking about. The reason I "chose" to be straight was because it was more acceptable. I was with Jess at the time that I "chose" to be this way. But in reality, I was forced. I thought I had something with her, and it cost me my own identity. I know I've only been with women for the most part, and that's very right and well. But women aren't the only part of my reality, my world.

So today, on the day of silence, I will keep to myself for the most part. I cannot be silent because of my personality and because tomorrow is the reading and I am more than likely going to talk with Amalia Ortiz (if I can get a word in edgewise).

However, I do ask those of you who can to be silent as many people across this country alone have been kept in the dark about their sexuality. I find it disgusting how we can call ourselves the land of the free yet prevent people from being in love with whomever the choose, just because some mythical being from the outer planet said it was so. Come to terms with life. Let those who have fallen in love stay in love.

Anyway, I'm tired and I won't do the subject justice if I'm feeling fatigue. Take care and I'll edit some more later.

last post for today, i swear

see more crazy cat pics

If you can't laugh at this, then you need a life.

If I Had a Killer Notebook

I'm not sure what names I would write in it. Would I write those of politicians? World leaders gone mad with power? Selfish people who have betrayed and hurt me? That's too much for a person like myself to think about. So I'll live vicariously through manga, anime and cinema.

Writing

I haven't been writing for a while, except for the blogs which is probably the only thing that keeps me sane these days, so it'll come to you as no surprise that the poem that I'm posting in stages here is the first thing I've written since Emmy Perez's creative writing course.

I'll probably never admit who the person is I'm talking about in the piece, which, I'm sorry to say will probably never read it fully knowing that s/he is the subject. Of course, there has been plans in that I would send this over via snail mail (so if that's a hint, then smile and keep it to yourself).

While we're on the subject of writing, I've applied for another adult blogger gig. This one will allow me a little more personal freedom than the porn gig. I still need to send my info over to that, by the way. I need a scanner. I also need more pictures of myself, which I'll gladly post here (a few, when I get them). Maybe one day I'll have a job and can afford not only a means of living on my own, but also a digital camera. Until then, you'll have to deal with the double-chinned picture of me on the side there.

Still Working

Can't believe you're standing here,
tears in your eyes,
still adoring me for who I am
and not for what I could have been.
Ignore the scars upon the flesh
and comfort me in your arms
take away the harm that blinds me
Ignore these scars of mine
and take me in your arms
to comfort the harm away and sing me to sleep
to comfort the harm away.

Am I your dark messiah
your hope in the dead of night,
or am I more than a son
much more than a godman can ever be?
When I had my cross to bear,
you were there to support the weight
and when I cried out into the night
you stayed while others had forsaken me.

So take all my pain
and make it of your own
because I would shoulder all your weight

Would you take all my pain
and make it your own?
Because I would shoulder yours
and lift you up to carry you home.
And sing to me
let my misery drown in your words
cleanse cleansing me of my failures
because your voice is strange and familiar.

Was it only a dream?

Kelly Sweet - Dream On

Was the last five years just a dream? I can't feel the same anymore. I'm in this gray area where I want to hate her and I can't help but to love her. I wish there was some way to just break free of this rut and continue onward. Sometimes, I wonder, if it's not such a bad idea to play on a different team.

A work in progress

This is dedicated to someone whose name I will not mention, though I'm sure she'll figure it out as she reads.

I can't believe you are standing there,
tears in your eyes,
still loving me for who I am
and not for what I could've been.
Ignore the scars upon my flesh
and sing me to sleep
because your voice is strange and familiar
but cleanses the failure off my being.

My only wish is to see the person you see in me (this line needs lots of work)
when I look in the mirror
at the reflection of a stranger,
a face that was once my own.
Take the sin from my heart and
crucify my very essence
wear me around your neck
and let me save you from the pain that you feel.

It's not a love song

Five years thrown away because she didn't feel the same anymore is understandable. But what she did is grounds for downright loathing, yet I can't. I still think that she's the girl who fell in love with me all those years ago. I suppose I'm foolish and think that things will get better. Shit. I really need to get out more and start feeling alive again. I need to die, or something.

In many ways, I'm not surprised. What gets me though is that she lied to me through her teeth. I'm not completely proud of myself - I'm not at all - about how I got the information about her, but the fact that I asked her several times and she lied to me several times makes me wonder just how much of our relationship was a downright lie? I thought we were going to be happy together and now I'm not even sure why she's bothering to be nice minus the fact that if anything happens to me, she would probably shoulder the most blame from my friends.

It's safe to say, I would like nothing more than to hate her. But I can't fathom ever doing so. And now for some Pumpkins because they always make me feel better.

Working on HTML

Is really really hard, by the way. I'm reading up on HTML and I'm dying. I think I'm throwing in the towel and using a generator instead.

Atonement

I'm not liking the book much. I've never hated a child in my life as much as I hate Briony Tallis. So there we go, I'm still reading, slowly I may add, the book. I'm so needing something different to read. Any suggestions?

Could Really Use a Friend

The only problem with being a bum is that all you friends work. Well, most of them anyway. I'm going out with El Senor in a bit to grab coffee and talk about our printing press and porno shop - the two oddest projects I've ever been involved with because they don't correlate in anyway, lest we are pressing our own porn, which, by the way, would be sick.

A few of my friends on Myspace seem to think I'm deleting it because of my current mood. Truth is, Myspace is a curse and a cancer and it's had a hold on me long enough. And it's not like I'm going to vanish from the world if I don't have one. I'll still have this and Sex Wednesdays and SFW Wednesdays and Ennui Reviews and fuck do I have a lot of blogs. But, yeah, I'll still be around and even if I don't delete the account, I'm going to do my best to stray away from it because I don't like the whole Myspace control/cancer.

One more run

I'm suicidal. And apparently, I'm also a cutter. I'm not sure why this thing happened, but the current events of my life has only escalated my thoughts of death. Everywhere I turn is another way for me to kill myself. A plastic bag left on the floor makes me think of asphyxiation; the blade from my scrap booking days makes a pleasant friend.

I love you, my friend(s). I think about you and the kid as I write this because of everyone in this world, my world, you're the only one who has ever been there for me. No matter what was going on in your life, you always made time for me. If there is a love that I hold for anyone that can be pure, it's the one I hold for you and her. I'm not sure what I'm capable of doing as I write this post and I suppose the only reason I write this blog is because if I'm busy channeling my words and sadness through words, I can't do anything stupid.

I have ended my friendship with Jyg. I have terminated the last string of hope there is in this world of us ever getting back together because I'm not strong enough. I wasn't enough to keep her happy. She was the only person in this world that has made me happy and now that glimmer of light is gone, faded into the world of the invalids.

Jess and Mari: I've always thought I could've been nicer. It was never anyone's fault except my own. I ended it. I tormented and abused you. You're both better off now and I'm glad to see you smiling. I could've been better to you.

The Professor: Stand up and don't worry about rejection. If you worry too much you end up like me, and I wouldn't wish that upon anyone. In the last few years, you went from educator to friend. I always valued both.

Jenndiggity: I inspire you, you have said. I find it hard to imagine anyone can think that of me as I can't even inspire myself. I hope you find solace in words like I have found solace in the fact that I could love someone without ever knowing her in person.

Jyg: I was never well to begin with. I enjoyed the time I had you in my life. I enjoyed the happiness and the dreams. Especially the dreams. You gave me visions that no one has ever inspired me to have. I love you, always. Until the day I die.


[Note: While it can be misconstrued as one, this is not a suicide letter. Merely emotions I've kept inside me.]

Mari

Hung out with Mari earlier tonight. For those of you who don't know, Mari was my first serious relationship and also my first in another department. We haven't seen each other in seven years so it was a bit awkward at first. And I know it's weird to say this, but after all this time, she still has the same scent perfuming off her. It's not a negative thing, by the way, or an insulting scent, but it reminded me of high school and being young and crazy. The difference now is that we're adults and crazy.

Things ended bitterly between us. I broke her heart, if memory serves me right. That part of me, however, I was never proud of because she was always so nice to me. She still is.

We went to Moonbeans because that was a nice spot to hang out. She's never been to a cafe before, at least not like Moonbeans. After a conversation inside, we headed outside, sitting on the stairs that lead you up to A World for Children that is above the cafe. She wanted to smoke and the cafe doesn't permit this. The noise outside wasn't as bad as the one inside and I could actually think clearly. I suppose the fresh air eased us a bit. I have to admit I was a tad nervous myself because this is a person I loved long ago. The past, while brought up, hasn't tainted us and we didn't seem to be uneasy about it, which is good.

One thing, however, I will note because I want to throw it in her face (and it's not a bad thing) but I noticed a radical change in her music. I can actually understand it. When we were going out, she was a big fan of Cradle of Filth and all those bands that sounded like they were simply mumbling something loudly rather than actual singing. She also introduced to me to In Flames, a band I've only heard of in passing. It's not such a bad band. The first thing I did was download their some of their songs and it's quite a joy to hear a band that isn't trying to be mainstream. There's a link somewhere at the bottom to their song, "The Chosen Pessimist."

*****

El Senor called me Friday and asked if I wanted to start a printing press. I told him I wanted to work up to it, but yeah, one day. He got an offer to start his own business in La Villa, which has been giving out land like hot cakes at the local IHOP. I sent an e-mail to Maestro to see if he's interested in helping us out. Not monetary, but giving us permission to use his org's name as our company's name.

I'll see El Senor tomorrow to see talk about it. We're also thinking about seeing the Plagiarist's place. And we have to talk more about the porn shop, which, by the way, Mari is interested in making one of her own. Apparently, her cousin's husband wants to open a strip club a la (I will leave this deleted) and call it (and will also leave this deleted). It's an awesome idea, but the guy wants to open it in another city.

Earlier today, I thought it would be quite profitable to open a club/bar. I thought this might be a sign from the almighty brainpower that there is someone else out there who is willing to make a name out for himself.
----------------
Now playing: In Flames - The Chosen Pessimist
via FoxyTunes

Just Because it's 4/20 doesn't give you permission to misspell.

Happy 4/20 readers. For those of you toking up today, make sure to do it in the privacy of ones own home or at a party. Don't want the man coming after you, do you? Speaking of the man, today was horribly packed at all Chinese buffets. Methinks 4/20 has something to do about it.

Okay Okay, hands down hands down

The asshole bit didn't work. I'm not an asshole anymore. Sorry to disappoint you.

But here, ladies and gentlemen, is an asshole who will always be an asshole:

Lessons lessons

Quite a few of you wrote asking if you're the one. I'm not saying names, though. I'd rather not embarrass myself nor anyone else. However, I should learn to disable comments so I don't have to deal with them. I heard what I wanted to hear and now I'm settled. Though I feel really crappy for making anyone feel rejected. That wasn't even my intention and I didn't expect you to take it the wrong way. I'm sorry. I really am. The post wasn't about you.

Scandalous

So I've lost my niche for this blog. I'm not even sure what it's purpose was; however, I have accepted the fact that it's not perfect and it probably won't be read by anyone except those within my circle - a circle that spans from the tip of Texas all the way to Spokane, Washington and Chicago, Illinois (and Singapore, but it seems a certain person hasn't ventured into the blog yet) - and I've accepted such.

I had a dream about Jyg where I did nothing but tell her off. I'm wondering if some parts of that dream was a revelation and I'm beginning to accept myself again and rejecting that thing she wanted me to be during the five years of our relationship. Have no idea what that means? That's right ladies and gentlemen, the asshole is back and I'm not caring about anyone except myself. If the reason we ended was because I'm too selfish, too wrapped up in my world - and not to mention boring, unadventurous, couldn't make her happy because I wasn't one of those dunces she now hangs out with (cos I could actually have a thought for a change) - then I may as be that person I so desperately remember being back in the days of Jess.

Also, that friend I was talking about, just so there isn't any confusion, isn't someone I've known for a long time. Now that that's out in the open, I'm sure curiosity will lead you to a quick name.

Avril should be exterminated

My response: I hate it when the girl pretends to be punk.

That's all I have to say about her. That and the girl should really stop copying other people's music.
Wait, there's more. I thought she was trying to get away from being pop. She's exactly what she said she wasn't, only with "heavier" guitars. So not only is she a plagiarist, a liar, but she's a sell out as well. Amazing. Fucking amazing.

we may have a problem

Dear reader,

You know I'm addressing you, this person whose name will remain in the shadows. I need to know the truth and the whole truth. And if your feelings for me are more than what they should be, we'll have to nip it in the bud before anything can bloom. I'm sorry, but I don't feel the same about you and I probably never will.

Your friend,
Ennui Prayer

Watch your fucking mouth, you know what I'm saying?

The plagiarist's book is all over the damn store.

Had Hitchhiker's Guide, but left it behind after losing interested in its yellowed pages (lo, I'll probably never get a chance of a cheap hardcover into another year or so - whatever, right?).

Some people need to have an inner voice before talking as they may insult a friend in the process. Sorry I don't have the "glamorous" job. Some times you should just watch your fucking mouth.

I get this way when I try to get over you

I loved Stabbing Westward, still would had they been around long enough to make it into my adulthood. I believe their last CD was pressed in 2001, with an essentials following two years later. I used to buy my head in music like this when I was a kid and things got hard. I've never found so much significance in "Sometimes it Hurts" until now, though. I guess it's because I've never been in love before, nothing this strong.

Don't get me wrong, I loved Mari and Jess because I had sex with them and unlike most guys, I don't have sex with any girl who puts out. I have to have that emotion to grow close to them. But never did a song about heartache make me think, fuck.

Another reason I love the song so much is the video. If you really knew Jyg you'd know why the music video enhances the significance of the melancholy.

Liar!

I promised I wouldn't blog about the subject. And because I respect my friend's wishes, I will not blog about it or mention a single name in the blog. You are a liar, "friend." You are despicable. A serpent. A stealer of ideas. I can't believe I allowed myself to be sucked into your world.

Here's few songs for you, fucker:

Nueva Onda Poetry Night

This post isn't about me, it's about Richard Sanchez, Amado, El Senor, and the other wonderful readers at the NOP reading. It was Richard's night actually. A great writer from Edinburg, born and raised. You'd love his stuff if you have a taste for comedy. He was most recently published in The Journal of Texas Trophy Hunters, November/December 2007 issue. If you have the issue right in front of you, it's on page 113.

It's always a pleasure hearing Richard read. I like the guy and I hope he continues to write his delightful stories.

Speaking of which, El Senor and I were in the car on the way back from Moonbeans - where we went to after the reading - and he asked if I could write like Richard. Truth is, I can't because I don't think I have it in me. He said he couldn't find the humor in his life to accomplish such a feat. I suppose El Senor and I will continue to write about the grotesque and allow Richard to write about the lighter side of life. I mean, it's his knack.

I Feel Like Dying

For those who know me personally, I'm not a big fan of Lil Wayne. Truth is, I don't know who the hell Lil Wayne is. But you also know that I know a good song when I hear one, despite if it's outside my normal musical circle. Once in a while the rapper will put down the bitches and hos genre and pick up the mic to actually make a song with a purpose. Many of the times, this song is buried in the back of the CD and we're never allowed to hear it. Hopefully, considering that the upcoming CD, The Carter III hasn't been released, that this song shall be the anthem of the addict.

Kitty

Tune in tokyo

I like cats. Yes I do. I like cats, how about you?!

New friends

Maybe it's time to make new friends, right? That's what they say so things don't get too incestuous. I'm not sure where to start. Meeting new people means I'd have to go out to places where you meet new people and I don't that. So here lies the problem.

Being single sucks. I haven't been single in such a long time that I don't remember how it feels to be on my own. I'm sure a lot of you know what I'm talking about here, right? I spent my life doing meaningful things that I never slowed down and be much of a social person. I wanted to spend my life doing things that I can look back and say I wasn't on of them - those people you see dry humping the air around them.

And when I finally thought things might go around and I could finally set a full time goal - life - things get shitty. I just want a friend, preferably a girl because guys and I just don't mix, that I can talk to when things are rough. I don't want to think about another relationship because my heart's still in the expired one.

I thought about riding the bus today, seeing where that would get me. I'm not sure why I have the sudden urge to go, or why I'm lured into the sense of uselessness being me. Philosopher told me about a suicide in her neighborhood and wondered it it was the guy from her intro course last semester. Suicides are heavy. And it seems that with every passing day, I kill myself a little more.

Let's face facts here. I'm addicted to affection and sometimes I mistake sex for love. It's something I'm not too fond of, but it's the truth. Like the alcoholic in search for her drink, or the junky needing his fix. I'm not different, and that's why I would rather not spend time outside the wall of this room, or the comfortable face of my computer screen.

Yeah, a new friend would be great. One I could just talk to, about nothing and about everything.

Ann Coulter should die

I don't know about you, but I absolutely can't stand Ann Coulter, or as I like to call her the woman's whose vagina is drier than a desert and acts as a gateway to hell. Nothing intelligent comes out her mouth and half the shit she talks about isn't protected by anything factual. She's making tons of money from morons who think she's the patron saint of the Republican party. I think she should be taken out back and shot: no cigarette, no blind fold and executed by a person who doesn't have a steady hand so it hurts rather than quick and painless. But that's just one blogger's opinion.



Before Ann Coulter can "perfect" the Jews, perhaps she should think about what she's getting herself into. There was also this one incident:



Gasp! Ann Coulter was wrong? Never!

I just wish that somethings on a cartoon can be true. One can dream, right?

Re: Tay Zonday

Philosopher just IMed me this pic of Tay Zonday. I think you know where I'm going with this.

Power For Living

So I got a Power for Living book in the mail today. It was free, so I'm not complaining, but it is another Christian propaganda book trying to convince you that their god is real and you should love him with all your might. I just wanted it to make fun of it because it's what I do.

It came with a copy of The Gospel of St. John - I have a lot of those, by the way. And a post card asking if I was making the choice to accept Jesus in my heart or if I still have doubts. Either way, they'll send you a Bible for free, an offer I can't refuse, literally.

Here's an excerpt of the Read this First section of the book:

God is no just for the famous, or the rich, or the nice folks who dress up to go to church or ghe synagogue. God is for everyone. He loves those who are helpless. He love the alcoholics, the drug addicts, those who have lost the power and are tumbling end over in space, headed for the sure crack-up (unless they burn out first on reentry). He loves the fellow who's out of work, the homemaker caught in the web of adultery, the lonely teenager, the frustrated businessman.

But what he doesn't love is this blogger. When the Children of god find out I'm agnostic, they treat me as if I have a disease. "I'm sorry to hear that." Yeah? Well, I'm sorry to hear that you are still in the dark ages about the creation of the earth and how we came to be. Anyway, I'm gonna read this book - it'll probably take a day or so - and after I'm done, I'll post up my side notes.

Day wrap up

I've posted more times today than I have on any given day. I'm new - sorta - here on Blogger so I want to get a hang of all this. I'm not sure.

Anyway, today I made a confession about wanting a kid. The moment's passed - I thought about it Friday when I was out with Philosopher and her little girl, the Squid. I don't know. Being around the Squid actually made me feel a little better, happier than I've been in a month. I'm sure it's due to the depression and hopelessness, but the kid made me smile. I think that's what matters the most.

I don't even know how to address this next subject. It's a little annoying, actually. If you call a person and they don't answer, perhaps you shouldn't call back as you might just wake up an insomniac writer who wants to get as much sleep as possible because who knows when the next chance will be. And not only that, but the other sleeping household members. I was brought out of a peaceful slumber by a phone call. Three times. Person called three times. And now I'm moody and annoyed. Bah!

All day I was researching the online looking for stuff for Sex Wednesdays (if you wanna peek, click that fine link on the side there). I'm thinking of making a poll, but the last time I made those on Blogger only one person voted. That made me a little sad. So Sex Wednesdays starts in a little more than 30 minutes of this post.

I shall end with this. I don't want to be an internet sensation. I just want people, a few, to read my thoughts and share theirs. I want to be able to tell people that we're all the same and etc. etc. If I wanted internet fame, I would've done Vlogs instead. So with that in mind, you look me in the face and tell me that Tay Zonday doesn't look like a fucking child molester.

What's wrong with this picture?

The moment I hit the Publish Post button for the last post, this commercial comes out starring Al Sharpton (a.k.a. "The White man done the Black man wrong" guy) and Pat Robertson (a.k.a. Satan). I have a hard time getting my head around the whole concept. Before you jump in, I am a liberal and I think people like Pat should be shot out of a cannon straight to his god, but I despise Al Sharpton just as much because he only cares about someone when it'll make him look good.

But you can see why this confuses me, right? Al and Pat sitting on a couch together, polar opposites of each other? What the fuck, right?

It's all apart of the We Can Solve It campaign. Here's an excerpt from their "unlikely alliance" page:

While Reverend Al Sharpton and Pat Robertson have different views on most issues, when it comes to the urgency of protecting the planet, they agree.

[...]

At the taping of this clip, the two joked and prayed together. If these polar opposites can come together on this important and moral issue, why can't you?

Wait. Wait. Hold up. I thought it was against the Christian Dogma to acknowledge the very real threat of global warming? I thought science was evil and blah blah blah. I mean, these are the people who think that the earth is only a few 1000 years old, right? Science befuddles them.

So why is Pat sitting on the couch with Al? Oh, that's right, for publicity. He comes off like a good guy after praying to his god for many a people to die, including one of our supreme court justices (and apparently god answered that prayer, while many children's prayers in Africa go unheard by the ears of the "almighty"), so of course he's going to do it. Same thing with Al.

Contact doctor if you experience...

Mom's sick. Not because of the aforementioned man friend, but she's physically sick. Doctor Woman prescribed her Moxifloxacin a.k.a. Avelox. Now I thought the purpose of medicines were supposed to make you feel better not make situations worse. Because I need to know what I put into my body, I feel the need to know what my loved ones put into theirs. So I looked it up. Here is what I found:

Side effects from moxifloxacin can occur. Tell your doctor if any of these symptoms are severe or do not go away:

• upset stomach
• diarrhea
• dizziness
• headache
• stomach pain
• vomiting
• change in taste

If you experience any of the following symptoms, call your doctor immediately:

• skin rash
• itching
• hives
• difficulty breathing or swallowing
• swelling of the face or throat
• fever
• yellowing of the skin or eyes
• dark urine
• pale or dark stools
• blood in urine
• sunburn or blistering
• confusion
• hallucinations
• depression
• suicidal thoughts
• fast or irregular heartbeat
• fainting
• pain, inflammation, or rupture of a tendon
• tremor
• extreme tiredness
• seizures or convulsions
• visual changes

I know, what the fuck right? The first list are the most common side effects, but hallucinations, depression and suicidal thoughts? You know, fuck it, I'd rather keep the bacteria. At least that way I won't die.

This post is about my family (sort of)

I hate my mother's new man friend. And not for the reasons a lot of you already thinking of. I just can't stand the guy. He's not us, doesn't belong in this corner of the world. He's too perky. And he talks to me like I'm a five-year-old whenever he calls. I've never met him in real life, though I know they've gone to lunch/dinner/ice cream in the past. Mom refuses to call this a date because mothers don't date.

My mother's been single since the final part of the divorce back when I was five (coincidence?). Never once thought about dating because said the most important thing to her was us and nothing can come between that. Well, I graduated college last year, my brother's expecting his fourth kid and the other brother's off in another city. With that said, I'm sure raising us is done with - though, and I'm not sure if this works for the rest of you, when you're Hispanic, you're never really finished raising your children - so it doesn't come to me as a surprised that she's seeking companionship. Although, this guy, annoys the fuck out of me.

So what's a guy to do? My mother's in her late fifties and this guy, Geb knows how old he is, is acting like he's the new guy on the block. I hate to break it to him, but I'm sure my mother's not into the whole romantic thing - I'd have to get it somewhere, right? But there he is, calling her up on the phone more than twice a day. Every time I answer, he has this weird way of saying hello, ask if stretching out that last vowel to entertain the child of the woman you're trying to be with (eew gross!).

Here's to you Mr. Never-Gonna-Be-My-Step-Daddy!

And to think, I used to look up to him

Charlton Heston died last week. I was left with a decision. Normally, when I was on LiveJournal, I would write a piece dedicated to the dead celebrity. I'm not a big fan of celebrity, but they are human after all and do need to remember for their accomplishments. Heston, however, was a different thing. While I adored him growing up with movies like Planet of the Apes being on a frequent loop before the tape mysteriously vanished, and with the classic Sci Fi movie, Soylent Green, it's a mystery why I didn't just jump onto the old blog and write a piece about the guy.

Reason? NRA. I hate the organization and all it stands for. His persistent, and often annoying and in bad form, need of holding up a rifle above his head after several innocent children died by the very same thing he lived to protect pissed me off. And not just that he did that shortly after, but in the same community or one closest to it.

So, Charlton Heston, I hope you're rotting away in your own private hell - you believed in that shit, not me - for all your sins on earth.

Philosopher, however, did repeat this joke: "But Willie, who will let our people go? And who will tell everyone it's people?"

When you're right, you're right.

Allergies

Stuffy day. My nose is drier than fuck, yet runny all the same. A tiny itch is running up my nostril and I know that any day now I'll bleed - gush - out blood. And now I'm wondering if I'll live this one. I know, melodramatic, but no one promised I wouldn't be.

There's a mess on my desk. I read too much. I think I should really clean that before I continue on with my day. But what's the point? I haven't been remotely motivated to do anything. Not even this blog anymore. I'm just sad that it's three month run is coming to an end because WordPress fucked me over and no one really reads Blogger anymore.

Back to the first subject. Every time I sneeze, cough, or sigh I get this chest pain. It used to be a lot worse, but it's there still. Anyone has any idea what it is? Or if I should really worry about it because I'm broke and can't afford a doctor's visit.

Epiphany (better be careful with this title, the last time I used it, I was dumped)

Every wake up one morning and say to yourself, at least I'm not a porn critic? I don't think I'll be able to say that anymore.

I need a photographer

I've been thinking a lot about doing new things because they say that's how you deal with shitty events in your life. Rather than revert to some junky or booze hound, mistaking that to be fun because all the big kids are doing it, I think I need myself a photographer. Wait, it gets better.

I've been wanting to revamp the blog - considering that I moved to Blogger, I think that would suffice, but it doesn't, really - and I wanted to cover new grounds. Not make this news, but give you the flavor of the area I call Boroughs, Texas. Without a photographer, I don't think I can do this properly. Photographers always make things better.

I know a few photographers, but they're friends. I don't want friends. I don't want to go out with friends because friends get in the way. I'll wind up having fun rather than doing what I wanted to set out to do. No offense to my friends, but I don't think I can ever be quasi professional with you.

Also, I need new pictures of me. That, anyone can do. Damn me for buying a MiniDV instead of a camera. Damn me all the way to the greatest pits of hell!

Stress

I need income. Problem is, I'm not sure what to do right now. Everything I've applied for has shot me down because of one minor detail - we all know what that is. I dunno. I suppose a lot of things are bugging me right now. I'm not in the mood of talking too much about things. Fuck, I'm hungry.

Nose Bleed Fears

The weather has been crappy these last few days. My nostrils are drying than an old woman’s cunt (I’ve always wanted to say that, by the way). This leaves me in constant fear every time my nose begins to drip. I quickly hold my hand over it, and then check if the fluid’s clear of it’s red.

Just a moment ago, something fell out of my nose. Gross, I know, but it wasn’t liquid. I grabbed a tissue and swiped it up from the floor and notice it was both green (gross, I know) and red. Fuck, early signs. Other early signs? About two or so weeks ago, Philosopher and I were at Barnes and I suddenly got a whiff of blood - the iron scent that chills my spine.

Most people get nose bleeds every so often, or whenever they can’t avoid shoving a finger or three up their nostrils. Mine, however, are caused with humidity rises or the air becomes awfully dry - thank goodness I live in the butt fuck of South Texas, right? And not to mention around Spring/Summer time when my allergies are at their worse. So I bleed, but because I’m blessed with such thin blood and a weak body that doesn’t heal so quickly, I really just gush out blood. Stream actually, like those lawn ornaments that piss water from their peckers, only my hose is shoved up my nose (thank you John Travolta!).

I had my last nose bleed about a year ago. The fucker gushed like you wouldn’t believed and I was in class when it happened. The weather was cooler - I know because I was wearing a jacket and the sleeve was soaked in blood by the time I got into the stall. I whirled the toilet paper and grabbed me a gob of it. I let it bleed in there for a while and sat still on the seat - yes, I checked if there was piss first. After a while I decided that the bleeding had stopped so I grabbed more toilet paper and blew my nose. This time, a gob of red goo had flung out of my nose and into the red stained paper. It was gross and it started more bleeding. I let it flow into the paper again and then blew my nose, this time being careful not to allow more gobs of goo out.

Later that week, my nose started bleeding again - nothing out of the ordinary because I’ve been bleeding like this since I was a kid. This time, I became weak because there just was so much blood coming out of my nose that it made me dizzy - Note: I wasn’t dizzy because I lost pints of blood (it was probably a cup or so) but because it seemed I would never stop bleeding. I wiped my nose, felt that I still had more blood to lose and placed a tissue into my nostril. When I felt it stop, I pulled the tissue out slowly, and lo and behold, another gob of goo, this time, still connected to me. As I pulled out the clot - I’m not sure what to call it - I felt it coming from deep up my nose. Oh great, that’s all I needed to know, my brain was really trying to escape.*

I bleed some more and then it stopped. I began to fear that the nose bleeds had finally taken on another level and were now trying to end me. My father suffered from nose bleeds like I did and the only way to correct it was through surgery. I’m afraid my pour nose will have to endure that.

*This refers to a short story (Bizarro) about my brain escaping. If you’re good, I’ll post it up, or at least a video of me reading it.

Silence

I can hear the silence buzzing in my ears. It’s a horrible sound. The last words I told her still echo in my head and I slowly feel stupid after I say them. We’re I’m in habit of telling her certain things, sweet things, I suppose, but it all depends on taste. I told her Sweet dreams as we were hanging up. She replied in the same manner.

“Always and only of…” and I held that upward inflection. What was she supposed to say? What was I supposed to say? In the past it would be followed by a you, but now what? Always and only of what we had before all this mess came into our lives? Before the urge to live a new life, a single life? There wasn’t anything I wanted to hear at that moment but I was longing for the you - the me. She always had dreams of me, didn’t she? At least the sweetest ones were of me, right? They were always of her, mostly, usually.

She just said goodnight again. I accepted it because I had done something that I didn’t want to do. This, what we have now, is all that I can expect. I shouldn’t expect more. I wish I could.

Philosopher and I were at Hastings on Friday and I saw this book. Religion has very rarely been a method for me to heal - it hasn’t been one since I was a kid and naive enough to believe that the world was created in only seven days in only a thousand handful of years ago. But Buddhism seems to come more natural to me than any other. I always said if I would allow myself to be naive and believe in something, Buddhism would be my religion.

I should’ve bought it, but I didn’t. Instead I opted for something else - a Soduku book that Jyg and I could share. Something we could do together and prove that two people can be friends despite the break up.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. That last time I told her that we were still together and things were going well - well enough to stick it through. And the urge for affection is greatly needed. I’m sick and tired of being the bum friend, the writer with a dream. The person who doesn’t drive because of some inane fears. All these things were fine and perfect when I was a kid, but I’m in the real world now, aren’t I? And the more I start to self-analyze myself, the more I’m convinced that nothing short of an asylum is for me. Somewhere I can be locked up and forgotten.

Or perhaps, I’m just reading into all the shitty thoughts I’ve been having.

Tiresome

I think I got everything down. I made the move from WordPress to Blogger in a matter of hours, but thankfully less than 24 hours. However, I'm thinking of posting the last blogs from WordPress here to make up from loss time. I ask that those of you who love my writings stick with me. I love you all for the encouragement.

You'll notice that Sex Wednesdays has its own Blogger page. You can swing over there and read it. I'm not sure if it'll be solely a Wednesday thing, or if I'll actually make the move and be an adult blogger one the side. (Perhaps Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays?) Never mind, I'm just glad that this version of Ennui Prayer won't be hounded by cock sucking Christians for containing Pornographic material. They can deal with Sex Wednesdays, instead.

WordPress is a bitch

So I came crawling back to Blogger until I can suss some things out.