from discourse to now
My 10-day vacation; strangely calculated with a morning shift in the middle of it all, and the first stretch involving a 47-hour road trip from Norfolk to Kalamazoo to Chicago and back, with an overnight in Sandusky, Ohio, home to the onetime largest roller coaster in the world, and lastly, a breakfast stop outside of Cleveland, the crazy hardcore guy I met in Joplin, Missouri, a one-time Neosho militia expatriate who collected assault rifles and Disney movies, and still listens to nothing but New York Hardcore. But I have fallen off track...I needed a moment to yell at my son, the flagrant deep-water swimmer, five minutes on the beach, punk... Don't swim past the jetty at 6th View... but disciplining is a privilege I don't enjoy throughout the regular season. The day, the day has gone well, however the masses devoured my ritualistic 12-pack of Miller High Life on my day off... the much-needed necessity on the beach on your day off... Warnings sounded, replenishment is the only option... At 3:43 on a Thursday afternoon at low tide, my newly purchased beer, from an hour ago, cannot be gone. I had 3, maybe 4...c'mon cretins, get with the program... At the beach, everything is wide open until gluttony devours my only necessity, on a warm summer day, on a warm summer beach, on my day off... with little to no money, just a little common sense and courtesy are in order... I hate dilemmas, distractions, discourse, the dysfunctional dichotomies that disgrace the divinity of my paradise, on the fringe of the ghettoes, the imbedded jewel within the streets of disorder, But I have again fallen off track... in an unprecedented event, in my home anyways, there is a substantial back-up of Guiness in bottles, a phenomenon that never occurs in this Irish hovel, but not my choice beer for the activity of "beach chilling" a little heavy on the draught in the salt, with the sand and the wind and the sea. Not really for me but I'll make it work, and bite this decaying Irish tongue, because the 'ole expression, "one hand washes the other," a parable, but whatever works...I'll walk it off... a sunday, white squall, not really, but an overcast gray day...breezy...cool...relatively calm. recovery from the House of 6th View... After an all-night beach party... the gang lies around, Cartoon Network as opposed to the drizzle in the elements... After camping and carousing amongst the Mexicans, the gringos, the Puerto Rican, and the Czech... a cultural melting pot that came together for the fiesta... But it's over along with everyone's energy levels, the mood is mellow, and I could easily fall asleep until Monday, after a week of vacationing properly. Journals, why do they always go back to the desecration of stupid people? Ah yes, because the subjects are always present. And I know, I've become one of them. My hands tied, my will tossed into the sea, And I hate them more, because they annoy me, Because my days are longer, starting earlier, doing my pinnacle work while the masses sleep, then returning when they awake to start the real deal, and try and end it comprably... (then it ended...like the night before it even started. the theme: I hate everyone, sort of...) morning: the rebirth of life, replacement of yesterday, regrets replenished, reality to reevaluate, every time you reawake. saturday morning on a 4th of July weekend, with little ambition, personally and for the world, and especially the world around me. An easy, EASY week at work, where the disappearing act not only came in handy but was required to fulfill my job duties, in a time where evaluations of occupational performance and requirements will determine the difference between three and five percent...$900 and $1500... and on the smaller, more understandable scale, six and ten cents on the hour... that's the backslap in the billion-dollar world of mass media...the serfs are served... but now to restart...kick it hard, it'll turn over. but there is a bad taste in my mouth from the night before: money, the ever-present demon, those who would slack like others in days before, and the opinionated, whether the guest of my neighbors or the other who has been needy, has nothing, but is easy to point the finger (note: the graphic, more colorful adjectives omitted as not to offend the reader... but they were f'n there) the bottom line becomes "shut the f*&% up," you've extended too far already, and you've lost your 6th View privileges. But it's a new day... it always is in the morning. You awake, cleansed of the previous hell, go start over and maintain what it is you try to do. Me, I'm just trying to have a good summer with my kids, another memorable experience in their lives, building the foundation of positivity in this situation we share, so far apart, and all I need to do is hit all the interference like a linebacker...it's all you can do... "people wanted beautiful lies, not the truth. That's what they needed. People were fools." -Charles Bukowski words to learn: acquiescence, self-fulfilling prophecy another morning, another rebirth... my son fulfilling the self-fulfilling prophecy. with Schwarzenegger in the morning, an acquiescence long overdue... unlike the books from the library: Bukowski, Robbins, Hemingway, and King... Stephen, of course, not Hawkins...no astrophysics this early... and a first-edition hardcover edition of "The Shining" from '77 for a buck ninety-five... a bargain, a beginning, at least more inspiration, as "The Pirates of the Carribean" theme vibrates the living room wall from the DVD in my bedroom where my daughter still lies sleeping, memories of her hero Captain Jack Sparrow swashbuckling the night before... yes, she is a big J. Depp fan. Me, I like his work...he's played every great role in the last decade plus... but A-hh-Nold is my man... from Day One, Conan... hither came Jason, a Cimmerian, with a trobled brow... And with that, back to the morning... Mahalo...