pissshiver

"The only savior that can use his hand as a fucking whistle"

Book recommendation - Misquoting Jesus by Bart D. Ehrman. I've read bits and pieces of his other books, but I'm digging more into this one. It's pretty interesting - a study of the errors and outright changes made to New Testament writings over time, and how it affects our view of "scripture." It's quite entertaining in its way, especially if you're like me and you enjoy the idea of Christianity being completely discredited as the flawed human invention it really is, which is happening more all the time thanks to people who actually STUDY this stuff. (i.e. - people who aren't fundamentalist shitbags.)

Ehrman apparantly was on The Colbert Report earlier this year. (I didn't see it.) In the book, he gives some personal background - he was once a raging fundamentalist himself - and apparantly he now considers himself an agnostic. Stephen Colbert referred to him as "an atheist without balls." I think that's fucking hilarious.

Work pretty much sucks rancid mealworm cock. (Wtf does that even mean?) But I'm still trying to get students, and attempting to remain hopeful. Not going well, but the attempt is what's important now.

It's become clear to me why I have to do what I've threatened to do for years now - go back to school. I have very little faith in the direction I'm going in right now, only hanging onto a thread of confidence, and it appears clear that I'm going to be stuck in this same fucking hole for a very long time if I don't make a radical step. I've long thought about going back to school, now I know WHY I should.

I left after two years, and I have 52 credits. So at least much of the work has been done. Now I have to nail down what exactly I'm going to do. To be honest, the main thing I'm looking towards is an outlet for my writing. I can see getting into history as a teacher, but that's not the ultimate goal. I would like to write about history, in a way that is as entertaining as possible but still info-intensive. I've danced around things like that here on my blog. Working towards doing it for real is becoming more to my liking.

The fact is, I have a LOT of shit I want to do, and I want to find a way of doing as much of it as possible. I can't fathom anything as boring as doing the same fucking shit over and over for the rest of my life, no matter what it is. So my other interests (music obviously being the immediate one) are still there. I just want to try to find a way of pullng all this shit together. I've got too much crap in my head to simply pick one thing and let the rest be mere diversions.

'Cause working for shit pay in a warehouse just so grandmas can have nice sweatshirts ain't cutting it.

A GREAT reference in the MST3K I watched with Katie yesterday. The Magic Sword - a ridiculous fantasy with Estelle Winwood (who Crow falls in love with)(, Basil Rathbone, and Gary Lockwood. ("Open the pod bay doors, Hal!")

The princess tells Rathbone he is the most evil man in the whole world. Servo: "No! I won't hear it! There's a man in Eastborn!"

Nicely tying in with the Fawlty Towers stuff Katie also likes to watch with me. God, I love MST3K.

Katie is getting ready to start Kindergarten, and has switched to her daycare's other location for the afternoons. We had an open house to go to there tonight, and it was nice to see that Katie is being reunited with a few of her friends she hasn't seen in a few months. She's very happy, but with all the concerns a small child has when changes come about. I'm doing my best to support her and give her confidence, but I think she's going to find plenty of it on her own. I'm a lucky Daddy.

Oh, and her drawings are freakin' WONDERFUL lately. She draws all the time. I hope I can get a scanner going and a connection at home in the near future, so I can share some of this stuff.

Well, I'm outta here. Be well, motherfuckers.

Love,
Dougie

3 Comments

I Like Beans!

I was almost right about the gig on the 9th. They intended to start with the new lineup then. But the singer just got back from vacation, and shit is all over the place. The guy who was going to replace me isn't now. So I'm doing the gig on the 9th (outside, mid-afternoon, at a Harley dealership) and I'll get to have one gig with the new guitarist - the 50-something former prison guard woman. I'm REALLY looking forward to this.

The big curve ball is that neither drummer is available (there's some serious politics going on in the band about this) and there will be a guy drumming for this gig that only the keyboardist has played with before. It's only a two-hour gig and we fully expect nobody to be there (we played it last summer, and they served food before we went on, so everyone had eaten and left by the time we got set up) so it almost doesn't matter. Should be interesting. The remaining gigs will be with the normal lineup.

So I'm doing that fucking drive three weekends in a row now. But all four gigs (two on the last weekend) pay well and only the very last is a full night. We're getting $120 each for an hour and a half at the gig on the 16th. So yay for that!

That 18-year old kid is getting a lot of shit from me at work. Little fucker spent all day Friday bragging about how he was going to get laid over the weekend.

"Fucking swine. You're really queer, aren't you? You' re getting ass-boned by a hairy guy with no teeth, right?"

Right at 4:00, when we walked out the door, his phone rang. His girlfriend. I immediately ran up next to him and yelled into the phone.

"He secretly loves cock! He tried to give me a handjob while we were unloading the truck! Watch out! HE HAS AIDS!!!"

I heard a girl laughing on the other end. Hey, I made a woman laugh. Didn't fuck her, but I made her laugh. That alone is fun.

Yesterday morning I was 20 minutes late because of a clusterfuck on I-71. So I got in and walked up to K and asked him, "So, did you fuck her brains out all weekend?"

"Sure did."

"Lying sack of shit. You stayed home, got drunk, jerked off, and cried yourself to sleep curled up in a corner, didn't you?"

"Yep, just like you."

"Exactly. Wanna form a club, shithead?"

I like fucking with this kid.

A new girl started today. Very cute. Very into the Beatles. And Brak. SHE LIKES BRAK. Holy shit. I started into bellowing "I'm driving down highway 40 in my big ol' pickup truck!" and spent the rest of the day making HER laugh.

Of course, she has a boyfriend. Shitfuck. Oh well, she's fun to talk to. She has a definite geek-girl vibe to her, which I REALLY like. After discovering a lot of common interests, I asked her, "So, now that we've both established our geekitude, I've got one for you - Mystery Science Theater 3000."

"Oh God, I LOVE that show."

"Marry me."

She's got a great laugh.

Wanna know how cool this library is? I just grabbed the Japanese import CD of McDonald & Giles off the shelf. Who the fuck knows who this IS? Well, it's a great King Crimson spinoff, and my library has it. Rockin'. It took me forever even to find that on vinyl back when I got into those guys. Nice airy late '60s pop/prog stuff.

Well, I've got a lot of not fucking to do. I'm outta here, bitches.

Love,
Dougie

0 Comments

Hamburger stands, but no fucking hamburgers...

The band is looking for a new guitarist. We have a guy lined up and hopefully won't lose much momentum (he says he knows 80% of our material) but it sucks to lose Al. I liked him more each time we played. He's been sitting in with some other guys and decided to go to them. Oh well...

I looked at the Indiana band's schedule, and I see there's a gig scheduled the week before the next gig I knew about. I'm taking it that they're going to use it as the first gig with the new lineup. I hope that goes well for them.

I was a useless piece of shit yesterday and barely left the house. Tired as hell, and I think I lost 40 pounds in three hours from going to the damn toilet so much. I could use yesterday morning's shit to melt steel. My poor bunghole.

Got 50 pages into Stephen Hawkings' A Brief History Of Time. Looking forward to the rest. My brain isn't wired towards math and science, so I'm trying hard to plow through things my head doesn't want to wrap itself around, but his book is a genuinely enjoyable read.

There's a woman at work who needs to consider new employment - that ass could make her RICH. I just want to fall to my knees and beg her to let me be her ass's best friend.

Want a neat little classical CD? The Canadian Brass doing Bach's Goldberg Variations. Pretty nifty.

Gin has a tendency to sneak up on me. I think I'll go back to scotch.

I've got a new CD shelving unit that holds 532 CDs. If they're in jewel cases. With the burnt CDs in much thinner envelopes, I've got probably well over 600 in it. And I'm only up to the J's. not counting the Jethro Tull. I also left out the Beatles stuff. I'm gonna need more of these units.

Huhuhuhuhuh, "unit", huhuhuhuh.

Ahhh, coffee...

My uncle who works at Wal-Mart was informed last week that his pay has been capped and he'll never get a raise again. For fuck's sake. These cocksuckers make the money they do and they STILL are finding ways of fucking the help in the ass. Fuck Wal-Mart with a big rubber dick. Evil Republican shitstains.

I'm looking into going back to school. Trying to figure out exactly how I want to handle it, but I'm leaning towards picking back up where I left off - I was a history and political science major back then. Christ, It's been 15 years.

Can somebody please walk up behind Donald Rumsfeld and hit him in the back of the head with a sock full of quarters?

I've gotta poop.

Love,
Dougie

4 Comments

Set The Controls For The Heart Of The Sun

There's a LOAD of articles on Wikipedia that are well worth the time. Do a search for "Kuiper belt" and take it from there.

I'm about to finally break down and read some Stephen Hawking.

There's an amazing blonde behind me in the library. I'd like to "impact" her with MY "meteorite." Huhuhuhuhuhuhuh.

Love,
Dougie

3 Comments

You Have Three Last Chances!-

2.) Keneally is coming back to the Midwest! Keneally is coming back to the Midwest! WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

3.) This library is FULL of underaged snatch. Probably a good thing I'm leaving soon.

Love,
Dougie

3 Comments

Running Up That Hill My ASS

So much I'd like to write about. but let's just do with today's fun.

I walked five miles today. Just minutes east of my apartment is the Fort Ancient State Memorial Park, preserving an ancient Hopewell Indian earthworks site. It's a fascinating place to visit, with a fine museum, and easy sight of the earthen walls, surrounding acres and acres atop a hill overlooking the Little Miami River.

The last time I was there, I had Katie with me. We went to an overlook, a beautiful view across the river valley. There were steps down to a 1/4 mile trail to the river. At the time, I was disappointed not to get Katie into the idea of going all the way down the path. That was only because I hand't SEEN the whole damn thing, and had no idea how INSANE you'd have to be to try to get a small child down and back up this motherfucker.

We'll wait a couple years. It's quite fine for an adult - even a fat fuck like me - but totally wrong for Katie right now.

It wasn't a bad little trek down, though steep enough to make one more careful than I usually am walking through the woods. The trail comes down to the Little Miami Bike Trail, and I could hear people out canoeing on the river.

From the overlook, I could see the Jeremiah Morrow Bridge, that takes I-71 across the valley. From the bridge looking down (well, the few seconds you have available to look) it's a gorgeous view, something like 250 feet above the river, which is narrow enough that you can't actually see it from the bridge, just the beautiful woods surrounding it.

(Dougie's History Lesson For The Day)

Jeremiah Morrow was an important Ohio politician. Along with the bridge, there's a room in the Golden Lamb Inn in Lebanon named after him, as well as the town of Morrow (on the Little Miami, east of Lebanon) and a Morrow County. He served as governor of Ohio, a state representative, a U.S. Senator (the first to serve a six-year term, if I remember right) and other offices. He was involved in securing the land in Oxford, Ohio for Miami University.

He's buried in the northeast corner of Hamilton County, in Union Cemetery. This is just south of Fields Ertel Road (the Hamilton/Warren county line) on Montgomery Rd., one of the busier shopping areas of the Cincinnati area. Across a creek from the cemetery is the best damn Thai restaraunt I've ever encounted, and a quarter mile up the road is the place I started working this past week.

I know he's buried there because I've seen the grave. It's very simple, but in the early 1950s, a group placed a plaque there showing a timeline of his life, and there's usually a flag there.

A couple rows and a few yards away is the grave of a man named Noah Stratton. The brother of a ggggg-grandfather of mine who brought his family here from New Jersey. Noah is buried next to the Short family, also from Jersey, and John Short is mentioned in my ggggg-grandfather's estate papers as the guardian of several of his children.

You needed to know that, didn't you?

I took off towards the bridge. The overlook makde it seem closer than the 1.75 miles it actually was, but it was quite an easy walk. Not far from wher eI met the bike path is a canoe rental place, where I bought an iced tea. The PA was playing Revival, one of my favorite Allman Brothers songs. With the line "love is everywhere" lodged in my noggin, I walked to the bridge.

The path cuts through an amazing slice of natural beauty, wildflowers and trees all around. I used to know a little bit about this kind of stuff, but I pretty much know fuck-all about the difference between plants and trees now. But they sure look neato, eh?

I got to the bridge and unsuccesfully tried to figure out where I was at on the other side of the river a few months ago, on a night I took a walk from a rest area on I-71 to that side's view of the valley.

Here's some of what I saw:

http://www.roadfan.com/burkin...

There's some kind of grave off the path. My best guess is somebody's pet. There's a plaque there, a circle of small stones and some flowers, and it's rather odd that it's there, but it is.

I decided to keep walking. I was invigorated from the exercise so far, and wondered how far it was to Oregonia, a tiny town on the river I'd seen just last week coming back from Caesars Creek with Katie.

I made it as far as the next canoe place at Mathers Mill. On the bike trail alone, I walked over four miles round trip.

A couple very pretty young ladies at the canoe shop told me it was around a mile more to Oregonia. I nearly went for it, but decided against it, knowing that once I got there, I'd want to have lunch at the little restaraunt I'd seen last week, and I needed to save my cash. Besides, I had to walk back.

I started feeling my feet protest the second I turned around, but not by much. In fact, it was a very enjoyable walk. I cna't wait to do it again in the fall when the leaves are turning. It's going to be great.

I made a piss-stop at the canoe place near the hike back up the hill to the overlook. The second I hit the trail going up, Kate Bush came into mind.

Like I could RUN at that point.

I'd been fine until then, but the second I had to go up hill, I was breathing harder than a 14-year old kid in a dirty book shop with his dick lodged in a plastic pussy. I had to stop several times. I'd made it over 4.5 miles, only to have the last quarter mile KICK MY FUCKING ASS.

I made it to the car, then to the museum. ANd since I'm running out of time here on the library computer, I'll have to write about that later.

Love,
Dougie

5 Comments

Lucky Bastard

Me: "You know what I could use right now?"

Him: "Beer?"

Me: "Well, yeah. That too. Actually, I was watching the guy on the forklift and thinking I could use a forklift license so i wouldn't have to do THIS shit here. But beer would be good. And a blowjob."

Him: "I can't buy beer."

Me: "Wait, how old are you?"

Him: "18."

Me: "THAT'S what I need. An 18-year old girl. Blowjob included. Beer for afters."

Him: "That's yer fantasy, eh?"

Me: "A girl half my age who likes it in the ass, yeah."

Him: "That would be my girlfriend, but you can't have her."

Me: "Fucker."

Him: "I do."

Me: "Rotten swine, I'll have you chopped into hamburger. Does she have any sisters?"

It kinda went to Hell from there...

Love,
Dougie

1 Comments

My Brain Hurts, Mr. Gumby!

Weird shit going on in my head.

Last night on the way home from Indianapolis (I went up on a last minute whim since I wans't working, and met my parents, then went over to the fabulous d9's for a while) I was almost to the rest area near Batesville, when suddenly I completely forgot where I was. I mean FORGOT WHERE I WAS. There was a little piece of my brain (this is what it felt like, anyway) that knew and was trying to tell the rest, but most of it was completely clueless as to what I was doing on this highway, a highway that I wasn't sure was I-74, I-70, I-69, I-75, or I-71, all of which I've driven on regularly for a long time now.

It took a couple minutes of fighting through a very weird fog to remember I was on I-74, heading south, towards the rest area just past Batesville.

I was rather tired, and I think most of us have weird shit happen when we're tired, but I've been more sleep-deprived than this, and it was just fucked-up.

I laid the car seat back and rested for half an hour at the rest area, and drove home feeling fine.

For the past couple days I've had sudden bursts of absolute anger and hatred flash up. This has happened before, but there's been MORE of it. Seemingly out of nowhere, directed at things or people that I thought I was over. Old shit. Nothing current. And I've swerved between being quite content, and wanting to rip somebody's head off and shit down their neck more times in the last few days than I have in a long time.

I also keep losing my phone, but that's shit everyone does.

I'm very acutely aware of what is going on in my head at all times. I HAVE to be. I've had to learn how to recognize this shit before it takes over. But I've felt a loss of control recently that bothers me, and I don't know why it's happening. Well, maybe I know part of it...

Before leaving Indy last night, I drove through the area I used to live in. Powerful waves of confused emotions there. I realize that it's not the place itself I miss as much as the feeling of autonomy I had there. It was MY space. I didn't have any serious ties there, the people I cared about were all at least an hour and a half drive away. Which made for some frustrations, of course, but it also felt like I'd set myself apart, had found a level of independence I'd never had before. I wasn't there because I had to be, I was there because it was where I CHOSE to live.

And I'm not feeling that anymore. In fact, I'm feeling a bit desparate again, because I'm back to being very dependent on others in order to survive, and I HATE that shit. I don't think the people I've had to turn to for help over the years realize just how much cognitive dissonance that causes in me. *I* sure fucking feel it, though.

I drove to Indy mostly for more help from my parents, in addition to getting some of my stuff back to bring down here. And I'm sick of asking them for help. I HAVE to, but I'm fucking sick of it. They helped out a bit here and there before, but not nearly as much, it wans't nearly as vital to me being able to get shit done.

I think this is all catching up with me. And I don't like where it's leading me, or what my fucking head feels like. I've had to fight my way out of the fog a lot in the past several years, but I was feeling like that was past, and now I'm having shit happen like last night. Something is wrong with my chemicals, and I need to figure out what it is, get it back into balance.

Or maybe I just need to assfuck a teenage girl and...OK, I'm full of shit. That ain't the answer either.

Well, it sure wouldn't HURT.

Not if you use a lot of lube, that is.

OK, I feel better now.

Love,
Dougie

1 Comments

No, Really! Ream My Ass Without Lube! I ENJOY It!

Ahh, but let's talk about better things. I just had to justify today's title. Cocksucking bastard sonsabitches.

I had Katie for a day and a half. We watched a lot of MST3K and Fawlty Towers, and went up to Caesar's Creek. Played frisbee for a while by the lake, and walked around some. Well, I walked. She rode on my neck because anything beyond a 12 foot jaunt is apparantly too much for her. I played along this time. THIS time. Next time I'm gonna suggest she spend a day eating box dust in a 105 "heat index".

No, I wouldn't do that to my girl. But next time she's friggin' WALKING.

We had a very nice time, though. And she played along with me on one of my weirder ideas - we drove down a tractor path in the middle of a cornfield looking for a DITCH. I figure hey, why not shake her faith in her father's sanity early on, get the shit out of the way?

The ditch runs into the Little Miami River north of Corwin, a dinky town next to Waynesville. Today it mostly runs through a large cornfield, also passing by the Little Miami Bike Trail (also going through said cornfield at this particular point on its journey alongside the river), large telephone poles marking the place I THINK I was looking for.

I think this field used to be owned by the grandson of the ancestor who came here in 1804 I've talked so much about. I have this guy's obituary. His father - brother of my gggg-grandmother who came here when she was Katie's age, and ended up living and dying on land currently owned by the Indianapolis Airport - built a log cabin that you can see at the Pioneer Village in Caesar Creek State Park. A couple buildings down from the old Quaker meetinghouse that used to be at the cemetery I've been to so many times before, not far from the field. Katie and I saw the Pioneer Village for the first time Saturday as well.

The ditch is named after the family. The tractor trail goes back to it, and a small wooden bridge took us across. A few feet later is the bike trail. Some very old wooden structures - small sheds, apparantly - are falling apart on the other side of the bike trail.

I was really into this shit. Katie was in the back seat making up songs, singing to herself. I think she said something about a corn field. That's my girl, creating in the moment.

The next morning we got up and did something really fucking weird for a Sunday morning. We went to church. Imagine that! Weird thing to do, eh?

I took her to the Quaker church that was so central in the early 1800s, not just for our family, but for Quakers in general. All meetings west of there were set off of that meeting. I've been in there once, for a special service they had three years ago marking their 200th anniversary. But that was a different thing, and they had lectures and stuff. They TALKED.

They don't normally do that, you see.

This is an "unprogrammed" meeting, which is to say there is nothing planned in advance. Anything can happen. Kinda like a good jam at a Dead show.

It lasted 45 minutes. Nothing happened. We sat there. Katie read a couple Dr. Seuss books and passed out on my shoulder. Wanna make your kid nap? Take her to an unprogrammed Quaker meeting.

If somebody feels compelled by "the spirit" to say something, they can. But nobody did. There were 12 adults and 4 kids, and the only one saying anything was a 2-year old, and fuck knows what she was going on about. Speaking in tongues, I guess.

In all seriousness, I found this to be fascinating in a sense. It certainly appeals to my love of the point where profundity and absurdity intersect. I LIVE for that stuff, and it was riding high here.

There IS something profound about it. I like the thought here - as a group, these people sit quietly and allow things to either happen or not happen. They don't worry about whether it will or not. They're pretty realistic, based on the literature I was given. Maybe something good will happen, maybe your kids will fall asleep and you'll end up checking out the redhead a few pews in front of you. They're not trying to force anything, not trying to constrict the moment. They're IN the moment, no matter where it might go.

I think that's not only admirable, it's fucking excellent. Some people think John Cage's 4'33" is a dumb idea. I think it's NEATO. Imagine an extended 45-minute Allman Brothers Live At The Fillmore version of 4'33", and you've got Quaker worship services in a nutshell.

So, with that in mind (let's face it, I'm the first guy in HISTORY to connect Quakers, John Cage, and a really fuckin' kick-ass early 70s live rock album in one paragraph, and for that I am PROUD) there's also something absurd to sitting there for 45 minutes listening to a blabbering 2-year old and crickets. LOTS of crickets outside. They must know where God Has Led Them, because if ya wanna hear the sound of crickets while nothing goes on, you're at the right place here.

I had the sudden insane desire to jump up and yell "What are you people waiting for??? GOD?????? You're gonna be here a long fuckin' time!!!"

But that really isn't what it's about. Reading up on Quaker thought, the thing I appreciate most is their realization that spirituality is a very personal, individual thing, and they are so concerned with that, that they have come to reject all forms, all written creeds, any over-reliance on outside structures. It's about "The Inner Light", and though their non-reliance on set theology means that there is quite a wide-ranging sppectrum of beliefs in their chuches - ranging from the conservative, fundamentalist views I had to suffer through while growing up, to way out to the left end of barely even being recognizable as Christianity in any modern sense at all - they have a nice mix of the individual and the group. The 45 minutes I spent there was as a group. Read up on it, it's pretty cool stuff if you're into religion at all, and while my own leanings are probably farther to the left than any of them are, I felt more comfortable in that place than in any church I've ever been in.

If anything, I felt like I was around people who actually knew a thing or two about the stuff that Jesus guy said, not the shit that confused all that later, invented by others. I rather like Jesus. Seems like an interesting guy, had some cool shit to say. I just don't buy into the shit from the assholes who came later. And I don't feel like "worshipping" as much as I do experiencing.

They're into individual experience. Most Quaker groups value it more even than the Bible itself, which is another thing that makes mondo sense to me but flies in the face of most of what passes for Christianity. Nice book. Nice piece of literature. A few things you can hang your hat on here and there. NOT the only place to go. Shit, I've got my Bill Hicks CDs too, ya know?

Placing value on experience as they do, they're making me interested. I value experience. I've tried to gain a lot more of it, to make up for how LITTLE of it I've had for most of my life. I seek experiences to learn from, to grow from, to attain wisdom by. Experiences that will shape me as a person, and allow me to be a better one. Experiences that bring spiritual fulfillment and calm to my inner being.

Which is why, of course, I need to fuck a teenage girl in the ass.

Don't pretend you didn't see that shit coming.

Love,
Dougie

5 Comments

WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

1 Comments

Nobody Fucks With The Jesus!

Get out and push...

Struck out at the library the other night. She definitely welded a couple loose brain fragments together, though. Her eyes and her voice, her laugh, all reminded me of A, the lawyer I havne't heard from in weeks. Otherwise she was nothing like her, but damn, that was a weird feeling.

I don't remember what I said, and it was probably perfectly fine wording, I just know I had to come off like a DESPERATE DAMN DOUCHEBAG. The second I opened my mouth, I could feel it coming off me. I should have just cut out the shit and said, "Please. Blow me. I havne't been laid in a year and a half. Blow me and I'll buy you a pizza. PLEASE. For the love of God! I beesech thee!"

I doubt I was much less pathetic than that simply asking her out for a drink. Meant about the same damn thing...

Well, I had the warnign signs go off Monday, even though it worked out that day. The box business is slow, and I'm not working again. they were very positive, and I might be back soon, but I don't know shit right now. So, back to THIS brand of fun stuff, right when I thought I might sorta be semi-not-really-OK financially. One day off work fucks things up right now, and it looks like it'll be two, because there's been nothing from the agency. At least this time I've got somebody there who I think is TRYING for me. I know who to ask for now, and I do. She's pretty cool, and at least gives the ILLUSION of giving a shit about me.

I watched The Big Lebowski last night for the fourth or fifth time. Love that shit. And I still nearly asphyxiate at the end when they carry Donnie's ashes to the ocean in a fucking Folgers can. Not the best Coen movie, but a damn good one.

Band practice on Sunday. I already know 2/3rds of what we're supposed to be working on. (Hell, we played a few of them last week.) Trying to tighten up the solo thing too, but I'm pretty distractable this week, especially now that the job has gone under. Shit.

I had a dream a few nights ago that Sheryl showed up in. I'd feel weird saying much about it since she reads this stuff, but it confirmed for me how much I want her to be happy, how much it hurts to see her hurt.

Have a lovely evening< you fuckers>

Love
Dougie

1 Comments

Hyperventilation

A girl sat down next to me at the library. A very attractive one. Just short of imploding when my computer time came up, I TOLD her how pretty she was. She looked totally flabbergasted, but flattered, said "thank you", then I left.

And signed back onto the computers.

Now I'm on the other side of her, trying to figure out what the fuck to say. I can't goddamn believe how much of a little PUSS I feel like right now.

Where's one of Stone's roofies when I need one?

Love,(or confusion, as Hendrix might say)
Dougie
--------------
From a 'net review of Steel Reserve High Gravity Lager:

"This beer kicks your ass real well for very cheap. It's alittle hard to swallow sometimes, and the next morning you might feel like you got kicked in the head by a mule, but if you can find some sleezy bar slut who will drink this stuff, I guarantee you will have her head in your lap all night long."

Two cans in the fridge at home. Shit, I'm gonna need some more...............................

And yes, I
AMhyperventilating. Jesus Fuckin' Christ, I'm such a pussy...

1 Comments

Roland The Headless Thompson Gunner

I love that song...

0 Comments

Fuck My Dirty Shitbasket

(And you'll be) Looking for the next best thing
Looking for the next best thing
I appreciate the best
But I'm settling for less
'Cause I'm looking for the next best thing"
- Warren Zevon

God, i love porn. What I love even more is not having to APOLOGIZE for it. Fuck, that's pretty neat.

Went to bed at 6:45PM last night. I was FUCKED. Hadn't slept worth a shit in days. I got home before 4, read part of a book about Hopewell Indian earthwroks, took a shower, and DIED. I woke up in the middle for maybe two hours and listened to Stephen Stills' most recent solo album, which sounds really fuckin' good, but maybe only because he's done so much POOT for two goddamn decades now. But I did enjoy it, and since Neil Young is on a couple tracks, it kinda had to be done. Damn, Stills USED to be a fuckin' mindblower.

The book just depresses me after a while. Ohio has a lot of these ancient earthworks, yet many have been destroyed in less than two centuries by farming and development. The author of this one even describes flying over one enclosure as it was being taken down by bulldozers.

I've DRIVEN in the Midwest. We've got a LOT of space here. Can't we learn to LEAVE SHIT ALONE when it's fucking OBVIOUS it's of historical importance? Hey, I'm all for progress and stuff. Yay fuckin' progress! But NOTHING I've seen has done SHIT to dissuade me from the conclusion that the human race are a bunch of destructive, greedy, narrow-sighted FUCKMONGERS who are too goddamn STUPID to LOOK AROUND. You can debate me if you want. I will question whether you have EYES, because it only requires SIGHT to see how fucking stupid we truly are.

I want to get out and explore these places and thank fuck many of them are being preserved. You can't even GET to many of them because they are blocked off in the interest of preservation, but maybe that's a good thing. When you take the time to READ a little, and see how these people 2000 years ago were so far ahead of the curve on geometry and astronomy (among other things) it's pretty fascinating, and gives one a deeper appreciation for where we ALL come from.

Unless you're a fucking Republican, I guess.

I thought I lost my job yesterday. The supervisor told me early in the daty that I wouldn't be coming back the next day, but he'd request me specifically when business picked back up.

Fifteen minutes after I left (well into daydreamas of sleeping in for the day) the temp agency called back and said that I was to come back today, they'd found space for me to still be there.

It's nice to know they like me. I originally thought I'd last two days. It's ball-busting work in this heat, but I've got through fine and they like me there. Good. I sincerely hope the place BURNS TO THE GROUND about four second seconds after I win a zillion dollars on a lottery ticket, but the odds of that are even less than the odds of the cute Asian girl next to me right now in the library suddenly jumping out of her chair and declaring her desire to deep-throat my cock, so...I guess I'm still sweating my ass off in a box factory.

There's a very pretty little redhead half my age a thousand miles away who has been on my mind all fucking day. Hi there. Hope you're OK. Do you mind if I spank it tonight in your honor?

Been listening to Zevon and eating a lot of peanut butter lately. OK, and drinking a lot of Steel Reserve. Some shit never changes.

I took Katie to dinner at the Golden Lamb on Sunday night. NOT CHEAP. This is "Ohio's oldest inn" (I've written about it before) and a beautiful place. I had a KILLER fried chicken/mashed potatoes/green beans meal that tasted like I was 8 years old at my grandmother's again. Katie ate a ton of bread and butter, and ignored the $8 grilled cheese/fries combo

The waitresses are all in very traditional old-style clothing, and most of them are 8000 years old. Our waitress was maybe a few years younger than me, very pretty with short blonde hair, and I loved how she talked, how expressive she was. She was very attentive when Katie started talking to her about horses (I wasn't even sure WHY), and she was great to watch while she told her own story about the day she was little and ate the entire loaf of bread her mom baked.

Damn, she's cute...

She handed me the bill and I asked, "So, what was your name?"

...wait for it...

"Amanda"

(KLONK)

Even Katie noticed. I was sitting there like an iDIOT when i heard her tiny voice saying "Gee, Daddy, it's so weird that her name is Amanda."

"Yeah, honey. I was thinking that too."

I have a new policy when i walk into a restaraunt - if you have a waitress named Amanda, SIT ME THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER.

i do not need that distraction.

Love,
Dougie

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Resolution, Of A Sort

I avoided Layla for the most part. I intended to anyway, but just before the gig started, I walked halfway into a conversation between M and the alternate drummer. For a moment, I thought it was about ME. Turns out one of our regular hardcore fans (at nearly every gig for the past year) has actually been outright hitting on her.

I walked in while M was saying, "...nah, it doesn't really bothe rme. but I did have a really bad dream recently that she cheated on me. We totally trust each other, so it was weird to have a dream like that, but it felt terrible. The worst part was that in the dream, she wouldn't talk to me about it. I can't imagine what that must be like to have your spouse cheat on you. That has to be the worst feeling."

I felt like crawling under a rock.

When I found out who he was talking about, I was very relieved. Then, for no good reason, I found myself saying to the drummer - right in front of M - "I'm crazy about her too, but I also love him."

M said, "I know." And the smile on his face...it took all the load off of me, just like that.

He DOES know. Without saying it (though it was confirmed in a roundabout way a minute later) I got a LOT out of those two words and the peaceful, content look he gave me. He knows damn good and well I'm nuts about his wife. They talk about EVERYTHING, he said. He also knows I'll never actually do anything to betray him, and she won't either.

I felt clean again.

I left her alone, because of that, and because the other guy was there. I figured she'd put up with enough shit from him. Nice to know that just when I think I'm being an asshole, somebody comes along and actually DOES cross the line, making me look like a fucking saint.

Thank fuck for that, eh?

Before the second set, I got my guitar and went up to the mic.

"Well, most of you know that M and I are leaving the band soon, and I've already moved back to Cincinnati to be closer to my daughter. Which is a good thing. But leaving these guys behind isn't so good. I'm gonna miss 'em.

I'll be at two more gigs in September, but those will be a bit different than this. So since this will be the last time I get to do stuff by myself up here, I've learned two songs I'd like to share with you, that I havne't played out before.

The first one was written by Willie Nelson. you'll know Patsy Cline's version. I don't sound like Patsy Cline. Hell, I don't look like her either. Though sometimes late at night when nobody is around and the blinds are closed, I like to dress up like her.

Nah, that's not true. Actually I dress up like Tanya Tucker. Anyway, I must be crazy to be singing this..."

I learned Crazy last week. Not too many people who know me know that I have a certain love for old country. OLD country. The band does a few of those tunes, I did a few with Dennis on our ill-fated duo act. In the interest of adding variety to my solo thing, I'm doing some by myself. And I think that I've found a song that is just about perfect for me vocally. Hell of a thing, that. I pretty much nailed it to the wall (though I was a tad sloppy on the chords, I know shitloads of jazz chords, but this is the first time I've PLAYED any of them while singing) and got an amazing reaction.

I said a quick couple more things about how I'm going to miss these rotten swine who I love making noise with, then did Nick Lowe's Cruel To Be Kind. No, not with the anal-violation lyrics. I'll have to find the right crows for that one...

I enjoyed the gig a lot. My last time with the alt drummer, though I'm going to talk to the other guy about letting him sit in on a few tunes on my last gig with them next month.

I haven't quite let go of Layla's hold on me yet - I still had to work to keep my eyes off her - but hearing M talk about his marriage was downright inspiring. I feel that this bizarre, and not-a-little painful chapter is nearly closed. Dammit, I envy those two. I'll never have what they have, because I just don't have it in me to give myself to someone like they've given themselves to each other. I'm really going to miss them both.

I left this morning and went through Indianapolis. I intended to hook up with the magnificent D9, but he was off to Nashville to see Tom Waits, the lucky fuck.

I spent about half an hour in the area I lived in just six weeks ago. The library, the gas station behind the apartment. The dollar store.

I kinda wondered if H was still there. She wasn't. She was expecting her baby about now. I hope she's OK.

I did see J, the model chick, but she was on the phone. When I waved at her, though, she looked like she was freaking out. Still talking on the phone, but waving frantically at me with a huge open smile as if she was thrilled to see me again. Huh?

She looked amazing. As usual. She motioned a moment later as if to say she was stuck on the phone, then waved again. Damn. But I left. I wonder if she saw the pain on my face. I felt it. I don't know if it showed or not. Dammit. I'd like to have talked to her.

But I had another stop to make.

Amanda.

I barely looked at my old apartment as I drove right past it heading north. For the best, really.

This morning, I woke up insane again. I used to wake up with Amanda on the brain all the time. This morning the fuck-craving was almost unbearable. I knew it coulnd't truly be taken care of, but just to SEE her would be wonderful. So before heading out of Indy up here for the gig, I stopped at my favorite Steak & Shake.

She wasn't there. Shit-goddamn-fucky.

I felt my energy drain away almost immediately. Like all the air out of a balloon. Well, a nutsack...

P, the girl she always seems to be working with, told me that Amanda would normally be there, but it was her birthday and she had the weekend off.

"OK, I'm going to ask you, because I've never aksed her. How old is Amanda?"

"Just turned 25."

Holy shit.

I heard it come out of me as I was trying to back-pedal. "Wow, I thought she was almost 30, anyway...oh wait, don't tell her I said that!!"

As crazy as she makes me, I have to admit something - if Amanda has been 24 years old the whole time I've known her (right at about a year now) she needs to slow down. She DOES look older than that, and I've never been able to get a handle on how old she is, because she actually seems older than the late-20s I thought she actually was. The girl works her ASS off. And I am very sure from some comments she's made in the past year that she could drink me under the floorboards.

Those eyes. I've talked about them a lot. They are stellar. They turn me into BLUBBERING SHIT in nanoseconds. But part of that is the YEARS OF LIVING that comes through. And to think that she just turned 25...this girl has seen more shit than I might ever see. I've had 11 years on her this whole time, but I bet she's lived those eleven several times over.

Which still makes me want her. I'm attracted to that. But now...I doubt I could have handled her. I wondered about that the whole time anyway. Now, I'm sure of it. I think I've found resolution here, too. When I found out I missed my chance with her by moving away, it tore the FUCK out of me. Of all the women I've met and been nuts over in the past year or so, Amanda felt the most right. It felt like the most likely shot I had at being able to give as much as I'd take. Finding out she wanted me too, and I'd been TOO careful and had taken TOO much time on her, that SUCKED. We could have been together if I'd not been so damn over-careful.

But now...I'm glad I fucked it up. We may very well have had something very intense and fun for a while, but I bet it would have imploded very quickly. And I'm in no shape to lose another woman right now. Not another one I really care about. I've been HAPPY recently. To have Amanda and have the things that I was concerned about (a few of them, actually, though I'm not sure I wrote any of it down here since I've been blogging about her) actually hit the fan and then lose her...no, I don't think I'd have come out of that well at all.

This has only happend with women I've met in the past year, oddly enough, but now that another brick has been placed in my view of Amanda, I can honestly say "Wow, I'm REALLY glad I didn't fuck that."

Glad, but still pained. If I could have bottled up the insane desire I had for her body this morning...holy fuck...I WANTED her.

Well, I guess it's back to wanting to ass-fuck teenagers again. Wheeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!! I've found my calling!

Hellbound,
Dougie

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Let Me Stand Next To Your Fire

What's Spanish for "it's too fucking hot?"...fuck the weathermen...fuck radio...Kevin Cronin can bite my ballbag...fear & loathing in a box factory...heavy distractions...excuse me, miss, may I worship your vagina?...sometimes a man simply has to drink...fuckin' karma...you've gotta have goals, baby...

As Lewis Black might say, it's been fucking hot here, or hot aa FUCK.

I was reminded of Uncle Lew today again, when hearing about the weather on the radio. Just as Lew ranted about the concept of the "wind chill", so I want to throttle a meteorologist (a word that means "liar" in English) when I hear them say "It's going to be 96 degrees today, but the heat index will make it feel like 105." Fucking cunt. There is no such thing as "heat index." If it FEELS like 105 motherfucking degrees, it IS 105, you cocksucker! They invent this shit just to justify being paid to be WRONG at least 60% of the time. FUCK the weathermen.

And fuck radio too. I get all my info (which doesn't amount to SHIT) from radio at the moment, because the TV is only hooked up for tapes and DVDs, my time online is very limited (I'm hoping to change that within a couple weeks and be online at home again) and...I'm not sure why I've only bought one newspaper a week recently. Fuck, I don't know. I DO know that even eating sawdust all day in 90+ degree heat in Lebanon, Ohio beats the fuck out of being in the COUNTRY of Lebanon right now. So hey, I'm basically all right. About to pass out half the time, drinking my body weight in water every two hours, but basically all right.

I've given up complaining about the musical content on radio for the most part, because it's sucked rancid alpaca balls for years, but even the NEWS ain't worth a fuck from these people. EVEN IN COMPARISON TO TV NEWS, if you can believe such a thing.

I'll tell you something - I DON'T GIVE TWO SIDEWAYS SHITS ABOUT MEL GIBSON. This is NOT news. This is HORSESHIT invented to KEEP YOUR MIND OFF THE WAR. The fact that many Americans CARE about this non-story SCARES THE PISS OUT OF ME. Besides, I already knew that Mel Gibson was a frothing lunatic. Don't you people watch South Park, for Christ's sake?

I don't control the radio dial at work, which doesn't really matter anyway since it all SUCKS so much. But funnily enough, I've discovered something - I actually like a few newer country songs. Heard one today that was almost FUNKY, believe it or not, and a couple that had enough going for them to drag them up above the typical redneck shit. Some fucking killer guitar stuff here and there.

Of course, 97% of it is still COW-PUCKY, but...

For about 20 minutes, it was on some cheezoid pop station. On came REO Speedwagon's Keep On Loving You.

I forgot how much I want to KILL Kevin Cronin. I'd kill him until he was dead, then kill him some more.

Ever notice in that song the way he says the word "men" when singing the line "I know all about those MEN?" It sounds TOTALLY FUCKING GAY. Not a judgement call, just an observation here.

What DOES he "know" about those men? Has he hung out at the gym with them? Does this have anything to do with Gary Richrath's hairdo? Isn't it SICK that I know the names of the fuckers in that band? I actually used to LISTEN to that shit when I was 12.

God save my soul...

You know that song Are You Gonna Be My Girl by Jet? I just learned it for my new band. My kinda idea of good ol' pentatonic bullshit rock & roll, baby.

Tuesday I helped out on a different machine at work. I like the guys there. We busted our asses (and about 30 seconds after I got there, the supervisor came over and STOLE MY FAN, which meant I lost about 47 pounds just in SWEAT that day) and cranked out fuck knows how many boxes, in spite of the damn machine being a BOX O' TURDS that breaks down constantly.

One of the guys is in his early 20s. Really sharp. Fun to watch working with tools. I'm NOT very mechanical. This motherfucker plays a wrench like Allan Holdsworth plays guitar, though. Super nice guy, uber-mechanical, can switch from being fun to work with to having the temper of a crack-fed bitch in seconds flat, and works his fucking ass off. Totally likeable.

And has an UNBELIEVABLE girlfriend. I'm talking MEDULLA DESTRUCTION here. This girl could turn my skull to jello in .4 seconds.

I saw her first last week. She came right on back at the end of the shift. But I didn't REALLY see her (because I was trying not to look the first time, he was RIGHT THERE) until Tuesday.

Holy mother of fuck. I think when Hendrix was humping his guitar to Fire and Foxey Lady, he was doing so for THIS girl.

OK, she was probably born 15 years after he died. But when I heard Fire come on the radio with this EVER-LOVING GODDESS OF GLORY in front of me, I knew that even though it was already about 47,000 degrees in that shithole, THIS fine young lady had just RAISED THE HEAT FUCK INDEX.

And this was a couple hours before shift was over. I was baffled. Here we are in a fucking factory, and this girl just strolls in, puts on a pair of safety glasses, sits on a bucket, and WATCHES us operate a big fuckin' thing that makes boxes?

Safety issues aside, aren't there LAWS about this? You know, about OPERATING MACHINERY UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF A GODDESS.

You could have poured six gallons of Jack Daniels down my throat and chased it with a couple pints of Mean Green Motherfucker hot sauce, and I STILL wouldn't have been as distracted as I was with her mere feet away.

She doesn't look THAT much like her, but I got something of a Cameron Diaz vibe from her. I'm not sure how to describe the WONDER of this girl's face. She's in college apparantly (brings her books in) and if she's a day over 21 I'll eat my air-conditioner.

Must...think...about...anything else...SPOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOC CKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Finally she was asked to go to the break room. THANK YOU JEEZUS.

When I left, she was still in the break room. I filled my water bottle (we fill up 2-liter bottles over halfway up with water then leave them in the freezer overnight to provide cold water during the next day's shift) and watched her.

Sleeping.

Nobody else was there yet. I skipped out a couple minutes early. But here she was, head down on the table, books in front of her, fast asleep.

For maybe 90 seconds, I was entranced. Captivated. A DROOLING DOUCHEBAG. I wondered what she would think if she woke up and saw me there, just LOOKING at her. But I couldn't look away. You don't see this shit every day. You don't get to watch ATHENA HERSELF take a nap.

Then a couple more guys came in and she woke up. I said goodbye and she gave me the sweetest tired smile. Weenus, meet fabric.

I'd make some kind of reference to eating pussy here, but I've pretty much used up all my metaphors for that.

I drove home insane. I come home on a winding country road that goes alongside a creek. The IMPULSE was to yank my crank like a crazed fuckmonkey the second I got down the road. I think I might have hit a tree if I'd done that. Or twelve. NOT the safest road to be driving on when you are DISTRACTED BY LUCIOUSNESS.

I made it home. And goddamn if my arm still doesn't hurt two days later.

She was there today too. I said hello/goodbye for the 4 seconds I saw her, and got the fuck out.

I would WORSHIP that pussy.

I took my co-worker home after work. I like that crazy old guy. He was mumbling some gibberish (like he usually does) that I could only half make out, but it was something about one of the guys there asking him for some "stuff." He said "I'm the 'Go-To' guy here. I can get you anything you need."

"Think you can get me some good 19 year old pussy?"

"I don't know how GOOD it will be. I can get you some 19 year old pussy, but all of it in this part of town has been worn out for the past seven years."

Yeah, I like the guy.

Great, now all I can think about is that girl. I think her name is Amber. I also think I'm DOOMED.

You know that stupid fucking Marshall Tucker song Can't You See? I'm playing that with the new band too. (Can't wait to see their reactions when I start playing nothing but major thirds under those chords for a couple minutes solid.) And ya know what? You CAN'T see what that woman is doing to me, and you don't WANT to. Trust me. It's too terrible a thing to view.

My journey into not drinking lasted four nights. Maybe five. I can't remember now. LOL. I think when you eat sawdust all day in this kind of heat, and have to suffer through WORKS OF ART that you can't have, it becomes your MORAL OBLIGATION to drink.

And lemme tell ya, Sierra Nevada makes a damn fine Summerfest lager.

When I was on the other machine Tuesday, the WALKING PERFECTION'S boyfriend asked me how I was doing, saying something about the heat and how fucked up it was in there having to work the way we do in this shit.

I told him, "Well, I don't know about you guys, but in my case I think of it as penance. You jack off one too many times to Barely Legal Magazine, you end up sweating your nards off in a box factory. It's just fuckin' karma, ya know?"

Of course, that was BEFORE his hot fucking girlfriend showed up. At the rate I'm going, I'll be dragging broken-down Peterbuilts on my back through the damn desert for the rest of my life.

Huhuhuh, "peter built", huhuhuhuhuhuh.

I don't know if I can actually reach it, but I have a goal to hit in the next six months - to be making enough money playing out and teaching to be able to have my day job only be 20-25 hours a week.

Might not happen, but a boy can dream right?

Of couse I can dream. I'm gonna go dream about HER now.

Great way to get my mind off of Layla. ANOTHER woman I can't have coming along. Thank you, God. Thank you so bloody much.

Love,
Dougie
PS And, of course, I'll be seeing Layla again in two nights. Shitfucky on a stick...
-----------------------

I almost forgot to share this. Been a while since I've ruined a perfectly good song wth new ass-banging lyrics. To the tune of Nick Lowe's Cruel To Be Kind. Enjoy.

(And yes, I know you have to mispronounce "vaseline" to make the rhyme work. I think that makes it funnier somehow.)

CRUEL TO BEHIND

Oh, I can't take another buttache
Though you say you're my friend
You stuck it in my end
You say your love comes with Astroglide
But that don't coincide
With the pain in my ass
And when I ask you to pull out, you say

You've gotta be cruel to behind
In your tight sphincter
Cruel to behind, I've got vaseline
Cruel to behind means I've cornholed you
Baby, (you've gotta cornhole) you've got to be cruel to behind

Well, I do my best to lubricate, dear
But you ream my brown-eye, and I wanna know why
I wipe myself, clean off the brown To have you flip me back 'round, again and again
And when I ask you to grease up, you say

You've gotta be cruel to behind
In your tight sphincter
Cruel to behind, I've got vaseline
Cruel to behind means I've cornholed you
Baby, (you've gotta cornhole) you've got to be cruel to behind

Oh, cruel to behind
Up your bunghole now
Cruel to behnd, it's a very very sore behind
Means I've buttfucked you
Baby, (fishin' for brown trout) you've gotta be cruel to behind

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Atom Heart Motherfucker

Just finished practice with the new band. Fucking FABULOUS time. Wow. The potential to peel wallpaper from a distance of several hundred yards is very much there. Even with the limited range of material we have, it's a fucking' THING to behold.

I have a much better idea of the guitarist's abilities now, and I think I'm going to be pissing myself often. MOTHERFUCK IN A BASKET. He's a huge Hendrix fan, and you can tell. God DAMN.

The singer also has mor eballs than I thought previously.

The drummer FEEDS THE GROOVE THING.

I think this is going to be an ass-kicking little unit. I haven't been this into anything in a long time.

Fuck. I'm a happy boy.

Love,
Dougie

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Funniest Thing I've Heard in A Long Time

You know what sound a girl from Kentucky makes when she's coming?

"Get off me, Daddy, you're crushing my smokes!"

You're welcome.

Love,
Dougie

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