Bedtime For Democracy.

so here's a disgusting piece on the "Sea Smurfs" that were created to keep the rabble in line, and to protect the uber wealthy.

thanks to democracy now for covering the piece. Tonight on CBS, katie couric asks the candidates one of those moronic babah wah wah questions.

Everyday is STILL Halloween

and bela is still undead. someone figured out somewhere that there is an unwavering loyalty to the gothic realm. Though if you clicked on Projekt records' web site, you'd see somehow while all these other indie trends have come and gone... the goth have remained unscathed. However.. the people wearing those giant trousers with "bondage" wraps.. come on. You look like you're more about Electric Boogaloo than say Propaganda Magazine video II (which is no longer available at 112 video in Medford, because some genius felt it be wise to shit can all the vhs tapes. Good luck on finding Corpse Fucking Art on the checklist of Netflix.. morons.] Anyway here's the link from the NY TIMES piece.
Psst.. now if only we can get some more kids to listen to Romeo's Distress by Christian Death.

Mo Rocca - strongman badass

I know, i know sounds like an oxymoron. Here is a funny clip of Mo on NBC. worth watching... otherwise I wouldn't be posting it.

New Milford Makes a Statement: Farming Is Staying

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/08/24/nyregion/nyregionspecial2/24farmct.html?ex=1377230400&en=cf64980dda7f77be&ei=5124&partner=permalink&exprod=permalinkIt's nice to see people sticking to their guns and thinking out side of the big box.

ramblin

Here’s the cover of BYOFL 97 that we did with Maximum Rock N Roll which is now an awesome website www.byofl.org. anyway.. here’s a rambling piece.

It’s been a while since I wrote anything even remotely related to the Model Citizen columns in Under the Volcano. One of the things I noticed after the fact was how much of an expert editor ol’ Black was, and a lot of my “good” writing was the end result of that editing and not necessarily what I was writing. The above thought has been a state of mind that has been crippling in a lot of ways. Since the zine isn’t in print anymore, Rich isn’t editing “my work” anymore, and I’m faced with the fact that I feel my work is shit.

So then I don’t write, I go into long periods of stagnation. No writing, no music, no art. When I’d try to break out of this funk my brain would beat me up, write a line.. delete.. write a paragraph…delete. Over and over and over.. nothing produced. I often get asked why I never pursued writing as a full time gig or more seriously since I possess a wealth of knowledge in regards to music, art and “culture” and I really have no answer. In order for me to write I have to have certain conditions and constellations in alignment and often times all the “things” I need don’t occur. Some people can relate to what I’m saying, most don’t.

Other times people would ask me, please stop writing. One of the arguments I received back in the day on my “work” series of pieces was that they were exhausting, redundant, and hopeless. Which is funny because I would run into “fans” while I was merchandising washing machines at 4:30 in the morning and they would love that shit because they realized the piece was about them. The people that get lost in the rank and file. Clocked in and breaking their backs for some crumbs. I found their opinions more sincere and valid the those who wanted to hear the scoop on the latest hoopla stirred by this weeks scenesters.

I did meet the anti MC people halfway. I said this a million times and here is a million and one. I stopped writing reviews because I felt that since I was trying to sculpt my own noise projects, my opinion of someone else’s stuff was irrelevant. There are a lot of bad poetic phrases and clichés I would never use in my own work. There are a lot of images and parameters that I wouldn’t use as founding stones or formulas to adhere to. One would argue that this is why all of my endeavors have been monetary flops. BUT I’d rather have a monetary flop then pen some ditty that ends up being covered by the KIDS BOP all stars.

So I stopped reviewing music to avoid any conflicts of interest and I thought this would be appreciated. All of my loyal musician “friends” stopped calling me because I was a dead end in the promotion spectrum. Which is okay. The people who never asked me for anything in this “business” are still my friends. The leeches and misers come around from time to time, throw out some lip service and usually try to pick my brain as to who should they try to utilize to hawk their goods. I have to tell them the truth, I don’t know anyone anymore.

Who’s a good opening act with a following? I just repeat what everyone else is saying.. uhh.. Vampire Weekend are pretty nifty, there’s also this group called Voxtrot who remind me of Housemartins meet The Smiths. I don’t know if that last comparison was written some where but that’s my take on the track that I heard.

Then I realize they're looking for a Pantera esque meets Fight opener for the HC kid who's first entree to "hardcore" was some bastard spawn of a bastardized hellspawn of hardcore punk rock and not the actual thing. You know the type of act that isn't embarrassed by the poster merch, the over priced tshirt merch and a group with the aspirations of playing some sneaker sponsored tour outside the Mall or Amerikkka.. and this is something I just can't relate to, can't stomach and I'm sure I sound like a crotchety shit bag, I can NOT tolerate. If you want to a rock superstar cool, be it. Don't disguise your intentions with glitzy videos cut with rapid image riot footage and civil disobedience icons... cuz that's not you and you're not fighting that fight. You're essentially the bread and butter for the smart bomb tech share holders.

So where am I at? The essence of Model Citizen is the angry, disgruntled shit worker rants. At least that’s what I imagine them to be. I’m always pissed off about something. Though there has been a big different in the past three years of writing is welp… I have accepted that I have a pretty good life.

I have the greatest girl in my life. There’s a picture of us if you scroll down. We have an awesome rabbit, who is slowly building trust in us. The hardest thing about writing is, it doesn’t always have to be about venom. The engine isn’t solely running on hate. There is a lot of love. There’s a lot of positivity. There are a lot of moments where I realize I have a great girl by my side, she’s with me through the thick and thin. I’m a lucky man.

I’m sorry if this is running all over the place but like I said earlier.. I haven’t written in a long time and I’m just letting this roll.

Small space composting

The SubUrban renter's dilemma – small space composting.. We drink a lot of coffee, read a lot of papers and get a load of junk mail. I was trying to figure out how to get some composting BANG out of the aforementioned materials. I was thumbing through this book the other day entitled The Complete Compost Gardening Guide by Barbara Pleasant, Deborah L. Martin.
I actually was very inspired. In it they had a solution to my problem, and it was simple. Take a garbage can, put some holes in it and then voila. You have a composting can that you rotate and mix around without having to shell out the big bucks.
I found two nifty videos that will help you visualize better as to what the hell I’m talking about.

http://link.brightcove.com/services/link/bcpid271521142/bctid1409430679


http://link.brightcove.com/services/link/bcpid271521142/bctid893738512

wholly cats

It's the original Model Citizen logo!!! - This is what ran with my column in Under The Volcano fanzine. Nothing screams unique voice of reason than some corel draw (if I remember correctly it was cd 3) clip art and stock house "ska" font. Very high tech for poor punk rockers in the early 90s.

My MiSo

There are these moments that I am glad to be attentive enough to experience. Awake, in the moment to recognize the substance from the trite, meager and irrelevant. That stuff comes and goes, passes by and is gone..

Then there it is, that special thing. The feelings of Elation, joy a visual representation of the spirit that provokes it, radiates it.. it is of someone who I refer to as my better half, my soul mate. The one who I will spend the rest of my life with, the one I will have a child with. The co-author of that work in progress entitled “the future.”

She brings me joy, I think to myself. I smile..look in the mirror to witness the visual. It comes when my panic turns to calm, holding her in my arms, chasing our fuzzy bundle of joy around the kitchen.

I got up at 4am this morning, turned to my side.

felt her warmth, listened to her breathing.

Thought to myself, I am very very lucky.

Went back to sleep, pleasantly dreaming ‘bout our future.

Nebraska has a clue, how 'bout you?

So many people get outside of their hipper than shit metro area and make the assumption that nothing progressive is going down.If you thought all the anti sodomite banners, tires hanging on trees along I-80 is what Nebraska is all about. Mmm.. perhaps think again. READ THIS.
The link is to NY TIMES article, which always starts with a dumb ad first.

A NEW BEAT

Melissa bought me a nifty set of cocktail drums for my birthday.
Playing, performing and composing music has been an interesting journey. Considering I really wanted to quit taking lessons at school my third year in.
--here's bit and pieces of the story--
The first year I was learning drums from someone who wasn't a drummer in this echoey closet at the back of the Eagle Elementary cafe-torium. I held sticks in a matched grip with my thumbs up, which should've been caught and corrected (due to the fact that you can develop tendinitis had it not been). So we'd alternate in this room from snare to practice pad. bang, bang, bang. You'd leave the room with your ears ringing. Which starts the beginning of my hearing damage.
The second year we had a cooler teacher. They stuck him in a different closet next to the janitor's office. He left his window open all the time and so he could get his smokes in without having to smoke wherever the teachers smoked during those days. real cool, real mellow teacher. I ran into him some time in the late 90s and thanked him. He was also happy to see I was still playing.
Third year. UGH... i was being taught by a music phd who wanted to be referred to as Doctor. Even worse than the actual Dr. were the other drum students. It was no longer the same three kids, but three more and they were...em... jerk offs. They had egos and perceived themselves as being older and more talented "percussionists" with influences as boring as whatever ranting and raving drumming moron that was in print at that time.
"I'm really into Rush, yawn, yawn. ", says blowhard 1.
"I've been playing the shit out of Suicidal Tendencies, Crucifucks and Run Dmc"
"Run Dmc, those black guys, that's not music!", says Blowhard 2 (Remember: This is 85 or 1986)
Blowhard 1 "what was the other at band?"
I ask "Crucifucks or Suicidal Tendencies?" .
"Dr Douchie, Greg said the F-word."

tangent: Blowhard 1 was a "talented musician" fat fuck. Story is he'd get upset with his brother and steal his knobs from his stereo to spite him. People stroke his ego at how good of a percussionist he is. Years later he becomes a teacher in Texas and can't hack. The fanfare is removed and he's a whack hack. Academics.. you have to love them.

Dr. Douchie gives the older kids the priority, my cohorts get stuck playing all the percussion toys. Which sparked my interest in creating disharmonic tones, improvisation and some chaos. One of the best moments of 86 was randomly kicking over a ride cymbal in the midst of a concert performance. smashingly brilliant. BH 1&2 faces' turned red with embarrassment. Mission accomplished.

YEAR 4 - had to of been tough on the ol' Doc. The untalented toy players now have to carry the "band" and welp.. we couldn't give two shits about doing so. Having been painted as dimwits, we thought well.. might as well make people miserable and enjoy it. Sight read? What do you mean Doc? I'll just rattle these things here and there and hopefully it makes sense. The highlight of the year was meeting up with the other elementary kids and finding equally jaded souls bashing drums and bending ago go bells for no good reason. These are the people who were going to get me through middle school. I think the ol Doc retired from elementary school music instruction and took on a more sophisticated job doing a 1800s reenactment band for more high brow music connoisseurs.

YEARS 5,6,7 (grades 7-9).
The instructor was a complete douche face wolfman jack looking guy who'd throw fits, toss chairs, music stands and have temper tantrums all the time. The drum line (yuk yuk yuk) also received instructions from a semi uptight asshole and whatever bendover boy aspiring professional percussionist he'd had taken under his wing.
One of the funniest lines I received from a bb who quit second instruction in was "oh.. you like black flag, you should check out Missing Persons. They're my favorite band." I had to explain to him I was given a writing punishment for humming Mental Hopscotch in third grade. He said in a real serious "Mental Hopscotch..great..great song." Out of his fucking mind.
Blowhards 1 & 2 had whole new entourage of equally boring and "talented' sidekicks to discuss Rush, Journey, and all the other exciting music that 15 year old percussionists listen to. I found some new cohorts who were into metal. Punk and hardcore was still to foreign since..welp.. since MTV didn't play it and Record Town/Tape World didn't end cap it.
So I went through the motions played rip off jazz, since we never would play license fees. bad latin-y turned marching band shit. did my time. played awful music. stopped following the confines of "traditional" music further and further. Got a hold of a mix tape from some friends that had Einsturzende Neubauten, Birthday Party, Lydia Lunch,Premature Ejaculation on it. I got further away from what other kids were into at the time like: NKOTB.
Ninth grade hit. my last year as a "band musician". hearing still getting hammered every other day. even in the acoustically designed band room.
--more poorly written composition later--

Dr. Greenthumbs

Caution: as with any of the poorly crafted structures that you will find posing as blogs here.This is another example of time travel, mish mashing verb tenses and me hopping from state to state apparently by the use of Tardis. So if you're wondering, is it me that is not able to follow ol' Groovy? chances are it’s not you, it's my stinky writing.

DR. GREENTHUMBS … So we started this grow box in the new apartment. Started with some seeds and some soil. Though, I guess we can leave to the experts to decide as to whether or not the stuff is good or a big over priced bag of shit [not literally, otherwise they'd say that stuff was swell]. We also bought a $13 grow lamp. Slowly we started to turn our dungeon into a rather nice place for things other than chia crafts to grow.

Now we have to backpedal, almost a whole year to be exact. Melissa and I are at some community college vegan awareness convention in Boston. Neither she nor I are vegan but being made aware of how to incorporate more vegan food and veggies into our lives sounded nice, so we attended.

The place is packed, which you would have to expect since it is a city and the convention (if that's what you want to call it) was free. There were also a whole shit load of free samples. In fact there was more product for you to get for free than there was information. Not much talk of community supported agriculture or booths with info on how to turn your 700 sq foot apt. into a sweet urban garden. Nope, nada, nut tin, not a ting man. Which I guess is more of a sad reflection on the state of affairs these days. People want to bitch about Whole Foods buying up Wild Oats and then continue to shop at the over priced entity that they demonize, and do nothing else.

You don't have to sell your soul to the armys of the living dead man. No, you can ralign your self with the diy underground, and do it quite literally. You can make yerself a 100% bonified do it yourselfer grow box and sow your hipster 100% organic roots in no time at all. Grow your own veggies.

Let’s stop this bullshit replace one consuming passion with another. This was ultimately the formula that I'd say snuffed out so many of my "gen-x" contemporaries in the 90s. So if you really want to rage against the machine this time man, then there's a way to do it. Take some of that rebellion and turn it into plowshares. (OR… PLEASE INSERT YOUR OWN PRO HOME GROWN PINKO COMMIE INSPIRATIONAL PHRASE HERE)

After metamorphosing into a cattle and being herded through the vendor room, I'm left feeling a bit down that I didn't get the phone numbers from some ol' HGP taggin' friends of mine and that well… I hadn't received any suggestions as to how to become the urban green acres mofo that I would like to be. (thank you Eddie Arnold).

So fast forward through the rest of our Providence habitation and all of my Patchogue reoccupation to now. Melissa and I start the aforementioned grow box. In fact here's a picture of the thing:

Since we use sitemeter for our online postings we realize that we've become popular. Not because anyone gave a shit about my column in Under The Volcano or miss the Model Citizen in any shape or form. Most people are hiting this site because they think I have some hydroponics hints, or other useful information on homegrowing their chronic, and other suggestions on how to spend their next 4-20 in the high life. Which was funny since our intentions were to get our salad and salsa ingredients from fresh and sound sources.

We were looking to save some dough, get some nice produce and welp.. throw a monkey wrench into the gears of the agri-terrorists inc. who are orchestrating this global food crisis.

Since there is an interest in our grow box, we're going to pen some useful how to-s. including how to repurpose some of those junk racks that you buy from target and S-Mart into something f'n sweet. The result is nice especially when you compare them to what the catalog growers are charging for them.

ARGH!

insert bullwinkle theme here.

I've got nothing. The writers block is creepin'…AGAIN! Beware of the blob

BE BUSY

this is my horoscope for today. It's somewhat appropriate, starting yesterday and following up til next week. things ARE going to be busy. (details later)...I've got to run.

Why be so modest when the whole world is singing your praises? Okay, maybe not the whole world -- but a significant enough group of people for you to feel like it's the world that's responding. This is a wonderful time for you, when people are finally paying attention to all the good stuff you're doing and recognizing what a good person you are. So accept their applause and take another bow -- you deserve it. Things are going to start happening now. Get ready to make some tough decisions and be busy!

Steve and Barrys Lake Grove

So I finally had the opportunity to check out Steve And Barry's Lake Grove, NY location. A few months back I dissed some of the S&B locations for their chaos presentation, poor customer service and staff who welp.. didn't lift a finger to straighten things up, fold clothes, re-sort shoes and sneakers. Etc.

THIS WAS NOT THE CASE AT STEVE AND BARRY'S LAKE GROVE. Lake Grove , was organized. The staff didn't appear as if they were being enslaved and tortured to work there. As I approached the Starbury sneakers, an employee was organizing all the shoes and reporting back to a manager and accounting for his work. Overall appearance of the store was sharp and clean. I wasn't left with the impression that a bomb had gone off. I'll be back for the super cheap gear. It was a real nice surprise.

A nice surprise.. especially after being tortured by the bossa nova casio 80s keyboard sounds that were pumping out over the sound system next door at DSW. Ugh. I don't know, I have to read if there's a study somewhere that suggestions that certain sounds can cause a violently ill reaction. I felt like I was going to puke the entire time i was in there.

New rants and raves

To differentiate the media aspects of what I tend to write about from my own personal on goings I started a hip new locale. It's located at:
LEWD PUNK RIOT!!!

EARTH HOUR 2008

EARTH HOUR 2008 -- I get bombarded everyday with all sorts of e bowel movements and virtual socio-political causes. Bands beg me to cast a vote so they can be the latest corporate peanut butter sponsored "best band" in some forgettable in 72 hours contest. My mail box is cluttered with spam from new aggro you tube producers looking to market their mundane and unfunny CKY / Jackass rip off as some brand new concept. Basically it all boils down to bullshit on the left of me, bullshit on the right of me.
Then today on the news I received word about an internet marketing campaign, who hadn't sent me a friend request. what, what's this? I did not see any bulletins posted on facebook or myspace. So I did some probing to see what all the fuss was.
It's called EARTH HOUR 2008. What's at stake here? Where's the get rich quick scheme? Essentially, I'm being encouraged to dedicate a whole hour to nothing. I don't have to buy anything, order a new compilation cd of artists that I hadn't paid any attention to since they urged me not to play Sun City. No nifty rubber bracelets? I'm baffled.
The concept is simple. You turn off the electric during some shitty sitcom that was probably penned by some douche bags who are upset that they didn't have the DIY insight as the aforementioned CKY jackasses. So now, they are stuck basking in the shadows of sitcommie Norman Lear. Nothing they write is as edgy, challenging, funny or remotely interesting.
First let me express my position that I was not bawling with tears during the writer's strike. I was more infuriated by the scab patriots who crossed picket lines in order to get a little more dough. Whatever happened to suffering to maintain some sort of integrity for your craft?
I know, I know a lot of the Malibu homes that didn't burn in wild fires or fall into the ocean were under the threat of foreclosure. So, sometimes you have to suck it up (n down over and over) in order to get by.
Never mind the fact that this action deals another blow to labor unions and furthers the nation's downward spiral. Everyone who took the dirty route used this opportunity to yuck it up and sweeten the taste of the immediate tragedy. We're a third word labor force of back stabbing, line crossing, pseudo patriotic dirty fucks. (INSERT CANNED LAUGHTER HERE. ) It really is all so adorably cute.
In other work movements, this would have been the basis for a beat down, but you can't expect much from an industry where the toughest guy punch for punch on the studio lot is Geraldo (good boxing skills).
What should I expect? These are also the same yapping traps that champion the latest Billy Blanks clone, they depict this brand of butchered boxing as poetry in motion. Following in the next segment is a nice broad stroke on MMA that often uses the term "barbaric" when summarizing the sport.
Whewf, before I get completely off topic; lets get back to Earth Hour 2008. What is nice to see is that I don't have to buy anything to participate. I don't have to acquire a Red Credit Card or go shopping at some stores. I don't have to spend to encourage corporate structures to do the right thing and contribute to quell some of the problems that one would argue they in part created.
I do have some suspicions that the word got out on EARTH HOUR 2008 because a soft drink company is participating and they're trying to tidy up their image, especially since the landscape seems to be littered with their little tins that didn't quite make it to the trash bin. All the flag waving, ribbon magnets on your SUV may portray the image of a great patriot. Good for you, you champion a cause. So why shit where you eat?
Like most evenings, I won't be watching the latest tv crap during earth hour. I'll be out walking through the town admiring the latest shitty graffiti sprayed up onto the walls by some lousy taggers who don't seem all that enthusiastic about their craft. Three of 4 letters with no style. Unoriginal names biting from the far more prolific 80s and 90s crews/writers . The young locals demonstrate their "style" that possesses no concept of history and strife. Oh well.. that's the basis for another rant.

At the beach

We took a stroll on the beach when the place is considered by the bronzers and hipsters as "out of season". It was a beautiful day and I'm with my soul mate enjoying the sounds of the waves crashing, short bursts of wind against my face and the sun warming our skin. her hand in mine we walk, getting passed up by some of the locals who brave the elements and take their 4x4 to the dirt. They sped past us at 50 miles an hour, "take in" all the view has to offer, make a u-ie then speed off in the opposite direction. They vanish past the horizon and then we again have the sands to ourselves.

It's moments like these that I cherish. Whether it's biking along the Platte "river", crossing the tundra in the Rockies, driving in the white mountains, playing footsie in a ice-y creek along the Appalachian trail, the fact is that I'm doing these things with my MiSo, the most special person in my life. My better half..and as I said already, she's my soul mate. Where would I be without her? Incomplete.

Free tunes man!!

Droog and the Vorgon Massive collective were feeling really generous this Valentines Day and sent out this communique for all our noise lovin' pals.

you're gonna have to cut and paste these -- there's free musick with no bullshit attached.

You can now get the wonderfully disharmonic DECOMPOSITIONS ep by that noisy bastard DROOG for free in it's entirity. This isn't a limited time offer. Just get your lazy asses over to:

www.archive.org/details/Decompositions

BUT WAIT THERE'S MORE. the vorgon massive instant dead unit that put the long island post rock noise on the map FUTURE SOUNDS OF LONG ISLAND is free for the lootin' as well. Now we no longer have to respond to all the emails begging us to repress that cd..and now all you newbie hipster college radio djs have no excuse why you can't spin Triangulator during your red eye shift.

www.archive.org/details/FutureSoundsOfLongIsland

like a dope i didnt upload the whole thing right. the rest of the album is here:

www.archive.org/details/FutureSoundsOfLongIsland_695

Radio Friendly DROOG edits

ABout the DROOG Decompositions ep tracks on Myspace.
The radio edits are for the new epidemic of add minded ear drums and people who want their disharmonic jingles at 45 rpm length. I hacked some of the ep down to instant gratification format. We figured that maybe these latest bits could serve as a transition point, from bulletins to the latest bastardized version of Abba. The results have been amazing; I think the radio play has increased a hundred fold. These composition styles are hailed as the tones that saved free radio. So dear mr. dee jay don't afraid to feed the Richard Blade in your head some cyanide and drown any notion of Cousin Brucie in the Gowanus Canal.

Do what you like. Like what you do

Last spring I found a store in Lincoln, NH that carried some gear where I couldn't argue with the message.

chatter

It is a little disheartening to see spirit related writing surrounded by the classified spam flashing jpg litter that runs amok everywhere else in the virtual static disconnect, posing as intellectual banter and binary carpool chat. The message is more less this: Read these words of wisdom or get lured in by one of the side distractions and perhaps I'll get a few pennies if in fact these "revenue" sources are legit.
My head is full of redundant, apparition resurrecting chatter. The forms vary from passing clouds, potato chips, hungry ghosts in hippo mode. Been there, done that yet again and again. The breathing slows things down as I soul ride brain waves like I'm channel surfing through the 200 plus channels of not so "must see" TV reruns. The temp at which these moments pass sound like some bebop jazz or one of those 50s B movies with the public domain action swing tunes that keeps popping up in the film because budgets were limited and they couldn't waste the dough on stuff like an actual score.
Illusions of me, who I am where I should be, where I think I should be, where I think you think I should be have booby trapped the room. They have the paths rigged with real tense ankle height wires hoping to get me good, trip me up..or force me down in order to get me to reflect on all the above, all that was..or perhaps all that could be ahead. Let them be, let them be. Chess mind isn't very helpful.
So here I am looking for a few helpful lines, hints and I can't differentiate the words of "wisdom" from the travel agency who's offering Eddie Money's "Two Tickets to Paradise" all inclusive to some post card photo destination at bargain cheap rates.

Droog - on a new web

Droog the wonderful noise monstrosity that began as an offshoot of my ol' band Carfire and grew and grew and grew has joined the ranks of FUZZ.COM. I collaborated with mighty Mute Treasures and launched the Decompositions ep. The LP version with 30 more minutes of dissonance will be available in 2008. I've also collaborated with Roswell, New Mexico Martian seein', chronic tokin' beat makers Da Vogons with the In Search Of inspired... Mars Needs Chronic. Now the whole world is waiting for the Groom Lake Mobstaz to get over their munchies and release a full length.

Super Sized Groovy

is being discontinued. the corporation did some marketing research and have realized the smaller model went over, up and down stairs, and walked across town a lot better than the XL version.
so the manufacturers have been notified and the downsizing begins.

OFFICE SPACE

special edition version 6.0 -- not available in stores.

The paper clip pushing begins with a punch in to the computer clock that could be manipulated to make you on time any day you were late or leave early if too many eyes were not minding your business for you. Me, I have this thing about paper clips and thumbtack rammers, I do not feel the need to make any effort to do any of that crap. I showed up, I am here, the work will be completed. Then everyone will be happy.

At least should be happy. NEVERTHELESS, SINCE our minds like to make our own drama, misery and latch into suffering when it has convenient no one was happy. Not much I could do. There is bad health coverage to complain about, television, the woman in the office that wears heavy perfume. Pick any topic off the top of your head. Complain, and then revisit it several times a day. Let your gaze skip past those happy puffy Bob Ross clouds that may be passing by and only focus on the black thunderous ones that may be (note may be.. and not in actuality) on the horizon.

I would make some suggestions and comparative examples that must have sounded like me singing the Bright Side of Life tune from Life of Brian. Some of the office workers seemed upset that I didn't consider the work stressful. I think I described it as a different kind of aggravation. It's not the same kind as dealing with the "troubled" teens who didn't know any better. Then when I was pressed to explain further how it was different. Especially when people who you would think do know better don't and well… in reality a floor not getting waxed means nothing when you compare it to cruising around a city and hitting all the public beaches in search of your client's mom and you hope to hell that she's sober when you meet up. The things we do with floor cleaning and stuff like that… not on the same level. Sorry.

IT WAS AT THIS POINT THAT THE TON OF BRINKS WENT UP, OVER AND DOWN LIKE THE HINDENBURG.

The next few days blur into some monotonous twist. I call my employer to ask for an end date to this program. I foolishly expect "professionals" to act accordingly and fill their end of the bargain. They do don't. Two days go by and then… hey your end date was last night. Didn't you get the message? Actually the message was received the third day in, something bigger told me this wasn't where I should be... though I was told to plant little dissident seeds in the minds who were suffering in this drought. I reminded the young uns they were still young and to take advantage and do what they feel they should be doing. Transplant to that "new city", get a job, live and experience the surroundings. If it does not work, it does not work. Check your coordinates and move again.

I took some positive things away from this part of the journey. Like the Buddha reminded me in Denver.. stay on path. I strayed a little in Providence and I gained some weight because of it [hah more mental then actual physical ; ) ] Python reminded me ... always look on the bright side of life. So here I am waiting to be reassigned, uncertain and yet certain. Everything is going to be alright .

De-cluttering Mission

Last week sometime:
For those of you who know me, my "achieves" have included various t-shirts from bands before they struck up licensing deals, various army navy gear that I gathered just in case I need to dig out an emergency shelter on the side of Kilimanjaro and other various pounds of (however you want to classify) apparel.
3 hrs and some umpteen pounds later... the soon to be hipster swag was compiled and donated to a local service, who I know wont turn the stuff into rags and/or the profits raised from the gear doesn't cover the 80% administrative costs of the charity...like a lot of "not for profits".
This has been a huge move for me. LOL. I have shit in there from 1995. Oh boy.