Homage to Molly Crabapple

Fine lines are only lines, they draw and are drawn. They are to be emphasized, disregarded and crossed. Dot your i’s and rouge your sunsets. For the vision of shadows that fall, shall spring into new movement that dance as retina afterimages. And all that we know and have seen, shall create a reality to live. So we choose a path to follow and lay our souls to bear as testament to all that is true. And in that place we are the images, akin to voices that are raised like hands and fist into the air. Challenging the status quo and cast like so many fishing lines into the lake of our collective consciousness.


After all Art is Life, Life is Art.

When you belong

This job is killing me. Truly. The brain numbing stupidity I deal with on a daily basis is driving me crazy. I HATE this fucking job… I HATE this fucking job… I HATE this fucking job… I HATE this fucking job… I HATE this fucking job… I HATE this fucking job… I HATE this fucking job… I HATE this fucking job… I HATE this fucking job… I HATE this fucking job… I HATE this fucking job… I HATE this fucking job… I HATE this fucking job… I HATE this fucking job… I HATE this fucking job… I HATE this fucking job… I HATE this fucking job… I HATE this fucking job… I HATE this fucking job… I HATE this fucking job… I HATE this fucking job…

Mirror, Mirror, On the wall

Insecurity and self loathing, not my most used or popular character flaws, but never less some small aspects of the whole. Still you wish that some of those total Egotists out there would get some. Today it seems particularly poignant. Caulk it up to another argument with that egotistical asshole in the mirror. I can’t stand him. Who the hell does he really think he is, what a fucking idiot. He should do us all a favor and just kill himself. Stop the “drink yourself into oblivion” bit and take that new knife of yours and slit your fuckin wrists. He has no guts. And still he really thinks that he has a brain and that someday it will get him somewhere or someone will want him. Yea, so creative, so much above everyone, you are sooo self aware. Then you should be aware that nobody cares about you, that you are a nobody, a  n o t h i n g. You could fall off the planet and nobody would even notice. Yea, quote me some Jung theory now, doucebag. The things that you pass for intelligent are nothing but word play and stupidity. What a presumptuous asshole. Get dressed and go to your fucking whore job, Dickhead. You are a total waste of time, get a life and fuck off.

Type, type, tripe, edit, edit, EDIT…(delete). I’ve been trying REALLY hard not to whine and constantly …(delete).I catch myself screaming at the moon and beating …(delete). Thus I have destroyed everything I …(delete). serial killer, precisely stalking my words …(delete). cutting them to shreds …(delete). Blood and screams…(delete)..  Look you’ve said that be…(delete). complaining, …(delete). want to put THAT out there? …(delete). reads …(delete).. Apologies to gentle followers, the gang of four…(delete). spell out my …(delete).breaking that Blogosphere etiquette …(delete). daily I whore for my Corporate Mother…(delete).. …(delete)..myself with every encounter, every fuck. Selling all that I beli. …(delete).  Struggling …(delete). I…(delete). you…(delete). and the snow flakes gracefully…(delete). …(delete). …(delete). …for myself. …(delete). asshole, as if…(delete). fuck …(delete).. all…(delete). …(delete). …(delete). …(delete). Gone is…(delete). …(delete).…(delete)..    

handbag

I wonder where exactly the phrase “going to Hell in a handbag” came from. And doesn’t it seem a little cramped. I don’t really carry a handbag, can I use a brief case? Too short. Still, I am more partial to “going to Hell in a grocery cart” or “going to Hell in a wheel barrel”. It seem like you would have more room to take along, personal items. And “Hell!”, Hell even knows we all have baggage. I wonder if Charon makes you check your bags when travelling over the Styx? A Danakea for your thoughts. You think they upgraded their travel arrangements? Can I take a jet there instead of some good intentioned road and ferry? This long travel seems way too tedious, I just want to get there and start all of eternity. You know, get on with it. But there is all those details. Yet this driving, stopping for doing what is right, then downward spiraling thing is getting old. I mean, I have reservations. Can’t I just take the express? I guess I could hang myself from the highest tree. I always seem to carry enough rope for that. But my reservations were supposed to be first class. I want the hot towels, damn it all to Hell.

Ah, forget it. I probably just get hit by a bus… A Coach.

LEAP

February is the longest month. Not in days of course, even with Leap Year making it’s appearance. But just in premise. I believe that it has something to do with the slant of the sun. It becomes bright and blue sky, the sun is out longer and longer every night, yet it is still bitter cold. The wind blows the winter into your face, when all one wants is the slightest hint of spring. Crushing one’s hopes, one’s desires, with blatant matter of fact reality. Winter stalks the land and all tremble in it’s presence. We even look to fat lazy marmots to forecast our future. Your shadow(?), six more weeks…..noooooo. But what is this, above freezing weather? Thank the powers that be for Global Warming (shut up, I didn’t just type that, I will rot in hell).Yet still the winds have that biting arctic hatred to them. You can feel the animosity, the vicious malevolence breathing at the back of your neck. Wanting, desiring, lusting for your demise and the return to barren lifeless lands of ice and snow. And there in the midnight blue sky, my lover the moon, burning in a warm glow like an antique kerosene lamp. Inviting, voluptuous and yearning for my touch. Yet, so unattainable. This morning she cried out for me. As the dreaded February clouds webbed her in like giant spiders. Making her become faint and out of focus, until she was only a hint of cobwebbed light. Yet I could feel her breath beating in my chest. I was up at “0 dark thirty”, for my daily pilgrimage to mother. Hacking and coughing out the venomous cold air, like a 7o year old chain smoker. A sickness I cannot shake. Non-scripts, vitamins, fluids, and the big guns of juice and Chicken soup, yet to no avail. I feel broken, decrepit, and unwanted. Once again asking myself why am I still alive. And this year I was hoping to change that mantra. Fatigued by Winter, waylaid by a common cold, bemoaning existentialism and yearning for rebirth. Ah February, you arrived in all your glory. This too will pass. Where did I leave that time machine?

Time Travel Agenda

Blank screen. Staring aimlessly at me, curser blinking in it’s syncopated rhythm. I pretend it’s winking at me, and smile in self amusement. I guess that I should type, something. It is past the end of January, and I find myself in an Alpha/Omega mood. The month that has been designated to begin it all has ended. Unlike my friend the Phoenix, it left in a whimper. So here I sit and review my itinerary from the start, as if this was the original plan. Thirty one days have passed from sight. Each one had lasted a lifetime and disappeared in an instant. Gotta love time travel. I remember the ending of last year, surviving those holidays with fierce determination to stay true to non-commercial intentions. Then defiantly stepping into the new year, 2012. Oh, man. It’s all over my shoes. From there I shuttled back and forth between weeks and days. Slowly landing on the 1^st with grand visions of hope and charity, but already deifying the chastity bit before the buss left the spa. Then there was the 26^th, with its grey sky and ice cold winds that blew freezing hatred thru soulless streets and around eyeless buildings. Back to the 4th with all it’s crushing depression and angst like that of a teen emo on a forced Bjork diet. Finally ending on a spring note, teasing and tempting with warmth and sun, and visitation from friends forgotten. Ten emotions in eight days. This is Friday, then this must be complacency or is that Brussels? Next time, I think I will take the train.

Break Fast

When did our Breakfast Cereals become cannibal zombies? Every TV commercial for breakfast cereal I see has the cereal pieces eating each other. I’m afraid to pour cereal into a bowl in the morning. The blood bath of the pieces gorging on each other in the circular arena of morning nourishment is not that appearing. What sort of Romanist advertising is this? To sit there with a coffee and watch the “killer bowl” as the pieces chase each other down and devour their fellow essential vitamin pack piece. And then what, I’m supposed to drown them in milk and eat the victors? The Horror…the horror…

At work

Six o’clock in the dark cold mornings.
Six o’clock in the snow, ice and rain.
Six o’clock a daily foreboding.
Will it be another day to get maimed?


Six o’clock and the time clock screaming.
Six o’clock and the emails fly.
Six o’clock and the phone is ringing.
Another day closer till I die.


Six o’clock in the morn and evenings.
Six o’clock I work right thru.
Six o’clock and the time is singing.
A struggling life is all there is for you.

*stolen and modified without permission

Cost of Living

Some days I just have to wonder.

I have come to believe, that in a past life, I was someone very evil. Gangis Khan or maybe Jack the Ripper. Therefore, I am where I am now, paying for my sins…….

Metamorphous Awareness

Believe it or not, I used to be a Dreamer. Blue sparkled eyed world’s your oyster love will conquers all anything you put your mind too art is life kinda guy. But after being kicked in the teeth so often I became a FuckingRealist (yes that is actually one word, like PizzaBeer, they are symbiotically joined), which I sort of enjoyed. I pulled no punches and nothing surprised me. Then slowly I stepped to the left and became a Sarcastic Skeptic.  Needless to say, at that point, I landed up not dating much and not the most popular person at a party. Then one day a paradigm seems to shift and Amused Fatalist was the soup-de-jour, which is enjoyable to a certain “pointed” kind of fun. But, I also feel those days have passed and more recently I think a Discontented Humorist is a better description. But by no means is this a circular progression, yet nor is it linear. It’s a more haphazard type of way and I guess in the overall Darwin-esk evolution it’s probably just one of those off branch that leads nowhere and slowly ends…..yea, I blew off work today, so too much time on my hands. Had to burn off some CT or lose it. Can’t carry over to the new year any of those Corporate blessed “out of office” hours. My Corporate Mother is not happy, but she designed the matrix, so there is not much she can say. But this does mean that when I return I will have to extra diligently strive to touch every one of her bases and bring electrifying results to once again be amongst her favorites.  

we interupt this...

Ok
As you may have guessed, the holidays are not my thing, I truly do hate them. And I have never been accused of being overtly optimistic. Dark, brooding, skeptical, whinny and fairly disgusted with what is so often labeled humanity, I’m not quite the poster child for heart warm stories. Hell I even gagged at the “Polar Express” (that animation looks so creepy it must be Hell) and find “The Christmas Story” with “Ralphy” a trite pseudo 50 Joan Cleaver nightmare….. So this is going to sound weird coming from me.

I know this lovely lady named Karin Diamond. Our paths had crossed for a very short time, we had been “associates”. I didn’t really know much about her, you could barely call us acquaintances never mind friends. Then in 2009 she was diagnosed with a very nasty cancer. She started a blog and I have been following her plight. She is truly inspirational, putting up a very hard and long lasting battle to beat this devastating thing. Through most all of it, she’s been so upbeat in the face of true terror. Anyway, she has recently posted a Christmas Story that is very heart warming, inspirational, and makes you want to believe. YES, I actually typed those words….it even makes my fingers feel strange.

Go here, Read this…..

Merry Christmas Story.html

…please.


Now, back to our regular scheduled programming……………..

Year in Review, The Best of 2011

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Back to Work

For those of you that have not been “blessed’ with working around the corporate world, there are many aberration of people that inhabit that universe, yet very few Human Beings. As I have alluded to, not all of them are zombies, or whores like me. Indeed, zombies are not even the most hideous creature that slitter or slim down the walkways of these festering marble halls.




He was a small man, in every meaning of the phrase. His physique required him to shop in the youth department of most stores. While his service orientated job position placed him on the lower part of the corporate food chain. Yet still, his services were in somewhat demand. This, in his mind’s eye, elevated his stature to God like control.

“Yes,…we will see what we can do”, he said, with his beady eyes darting back and forth. Never talking or looking directly at you, his cubicle’s chair squeaked as he leaned back in it. He placed his hands behind his head and flexed his biceps in the short sleeved beige rugby shirt he was wearing. “I will be happy to help you with this project. But scheduling may be an issue, maybe you should push through this initiative and I will follow up on the findings. In this way, your name will also be on the project, and you may get some credit for it too”. Well, isn’t this what you’re here to do? ”Yes, yes, my role is quite well defined here, and as I said, I would be happy to help you with this project. It’s just that I have so many other projects lined up that I don’t know when I would be able to address yours”, he retorted. “If you do it, we can complete it in a timelier manner”. Really, well who is your manager, who do you report to? Maybe I can talk to them about your work load and getting you some help. “No, No, that would not be necessary”, he said sitting up straight as his chair squeaked. “As I said, I will be happy to help you. It’s just that I get no support from management. I’m here all by myself and have no one to assist me in scheduling and completing projects. And for some reason, my computer is not running properly. I have talked to the IT people but to no resolve. They don’t even return my calls or emails. But I will do this for you, even with my messed up computer and the carpal tunnel that is affecting my left hand. I can see how important it is to you, so I will even give it a priority. How would three weeks from today be?” Three weeks, am I missing something here? This seems like a fairly straight forward project. How backlogged is your work load? The Senior VP of Marketing seemed to believe, if I understood him correctly, that this could be completed in a week at the longest. “Oh it’s so back logged, those VP just keep dumping projects on me. They don’t care how much work I have to do. But I’m not complaining, mind you. They just don’t understand how hard this job is or that I have to work on more than one project at a time. And did I tell you I have carpal tunnel in my right hand?”, he whined. “But I will get this done for you. How would the beginning of next week be?” That’s fine, I will report this back to the committee.

As I was walking out of his cubicle he picked up his phone. There just outside the cubicle, I was delayed by another corporate aberration known as “The Weekend Sport Reaper”, who had to recite and recap the highlights of Sunday’s football game for me. But before I could leave, I overheard from the cubical a phone conversation with a zombie. “You need to do this project immediately” he said. “The VP of Marketing wants you to do it”. I know, but he wants you. Put those other three projects you are working on for me aside, he needs this before the end of the week. Don’t worry, you can still get to your own work. I am totally overloaded, and I have carpal tunnel. You said that you would help me. Besides, like I said, VP of Marketing wants YOU to do this. When you are done, just deliver it to me, I will pass it on for you.” And as I heard him hang up the phone I could hear his chair squeak.

“Weasel Boy”

Nightmare before Christmas

As if the Holidays weren’t enough of a nightmare, I had to go and read the news. I don’t know what I was thinking, call it a fatal lack of judgment, or maybe just plain stupidity on my part. I never planned my blogosphere to be a report on current events. But now, I still cannot believe the words that jumped off the screen and embedded themselves into my eye balls. It’s like some bad SciFi movie where we all die at the end.

AP reports that Scientist have created, what many call the most “dangerous virus” ever, by genetically altering Bird Flu. Avian influenza (H5N1) was altered and laboratory bred so that it could spread easily among (Humans) mammals. Scientist “wanted to see what was possible” and by altering the virus’ ability to spread they would better understand and be able to monitor the virus IF it ever mutated to that extent on its own. Present knowledge of the non-altered virus shows that 60% of infected Humans die. Death estimates from the new form of the easier spread virus puts that closer to 70-75% rate of death.


Is it just me or is this INSANITY? Haven’t these Scientist ever seen “12 Monkeys” or any of the "Resident Evil" movies or games, heard anything about the 1918 “Spanish”(H1N1) influenza pandemic, or even read any Zombie literature of today. Didn’t their parents ever tell them that just because you Can do something, doesn’t mean you Should do it? And the US Government funded this in the millions of dollars. Ya think that maybe they could of taken all that money and, I don’t know, maybe coded computer models that could simulate the mutation, instead of actually creating the virus? The 1918 pandemic was one of the deadliest natural human disasters in history. Low estimates put it at 27% of the world’s population was infected with an estimation of 10-20% infected dying. This means that at that time, approximately 6% of the entire global population died. So let’s “MAKE” something 3-4 times deadlier.


I quit.

p.s. If you don't want to do the math, and be conservative and on the low end, stick with the 27% infection rate, and use 60% infection death rate.....appoximately 2 out of every 10 people would die. How many people do you know?

later on

little words
tiny monosyllabic fragments.

broken from sentences
cast away.

just a suicide
hanging preposition
or was it something.

looking for
large meaning
in small things.

hopelessly

The Real World

Reality is back, with her demanding ways. Bathing in her self-centered adolescent fanciful depravity. Why am I so attracted to her, what Lolita hold does she have on me? I know too many people who seem to pay her little mind. Yet, I wish that for her I could be the one. Still, I am not even “bona fide” in her opinion. Work, bills, holidays, car problems. She draws my attention and cuts to the quip, and I am known for not coloring inside the lines and running with scissors. Yet what irony, that I follow her to my doom.  I look to her in hope that I can be whom I dream. Quoting fragments from lost manuscripts to entice her, “Were we Do what we Want and Want what we Like and Like what we Do”. Hoping to make it my mantra, yet she just laughs and points out that our relationship is but a satire. You ever have one of those days where you feel that you are involved in a tragicomedy? I seem to be having one of those years. “And wouldn’t that defeat the whole purpose, Mr Krick?”   

Thanks

National Pig-Out Day is over. A day of giving, Thanks….really? Do you believe that, in your turkey induced coma? Let me guess, you made a list, a list of all the things you SHOULD be thankful for. Or you all held hands around the table and “thanked” before stuffing your faces with more food then humanly possible to eat. And so it starts, heralding in the beginning of the consumer orgy season, known as the holidays. Today is Blackfriday, where people lined up at midnight to accost retail establishments inorder to spend less money to purchase things they don’t need, in a frenzy of over gluttonous consumption. Where they have trampled to death other “consumer ninjas” just to beat them to the sale items that fulfill their marketed desires. Fuck you, I need that bigger HD TV! Die, die, die, for I will spend to save. Hell, we built our whole economy on this concept. How well the Blackfriday sales goes, are a predictor for the holiday sales. The Holiday sales are a number one indicator of US economic stability. How freakn stupid is that?  What? Not quite the Thanks you expected? Well sorry, they sold out of that type of thanks. I guess that you just weren’t there early enough. Now your loved ones will not get the gift that will make their lives ultimately happy. What a BAD person you are.  Obviously you were not paying attention to all those email extorting how these Blackfriday deals will not last. You are Bad, Bad, Bad. You really don't care about your loved ones, do you? But wait,…. redemption is around the corner,…”CyberMonday” will arrive in the nick of time to save your butt ……YEA!

Ugg..I feel sick. Must have been too much turkey, or the stuffing and gravy. Maybe the mashed potatoes, no probably the creamed onions. Or more likely the squash coupled with the broccoli. I really don’t think it was the corn and peppers, nor the cranberry sauce.  Maybe the holiday sausage or the crab dip, cheese, pepperoni, crackers, nuts, and fried onion bloom appetizers. I can’t believe it was the pumpkin pie, apple pie, brownies, ice cream, rum balls, or lemon squares. And it definitely wasn't all that alcohol.

Look, look there on the TV set, that they now tell me is too small. It's our Coca-Cola designed Santa. A fat old guy wearing pajamas who gives candy to children that sit on his lap. Isn’t that so cute, an obese diabetic pedophile. I hate the holidays.

Oh wait, I get it. I put on the wrong glasses this morning. I put on the bad pair, now I see. Well I gotta go, behind on my holiday shopping, ya know.

Oh yea, I forgot to mention……..…Thanks.

photos

Day breaks

Over my head

And all is not right

But the photos are out

Go if you want, or not

http://www.flickr.com/photos/29046422@N03/

i of the beholder

I have seen such beauty, pain, and pleasure
yet contemplate why I am not whole.

Forever searching as leaves blown upon the breeze
only to find my reflection an abomination.

Wondering why I am where I am
and were I am I was.

Beheld by none except my vision
Of dreams that shadows play.

yes a photo...from the NYC Village halloween Parade
More to follow on my Flickr