‘Almost Famous’ Is Great And Western Themed Holidays Are Stupid


B&W Swag


Ah, Almost Famous. There will always be a special place in my heart for you, a place somewhere right next to my first OMG-BEST-BAND-EVR (Sublime), Hunter S. Thompson novels, and Ganguro porn (I regret nothing!).

Yes, as a budding writer/journalist before I knew I was a budding writer/journalist I loved watching Almost Famousand imagining my own awkward, gangly 15-year-old self traveling across the States, interviewing rockstars, and engaging in the kinds of wonderful debauchery that would bless me with lovely stories and a mild case of gonorrhea.


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When I Tried To Learn About Evolution

Ah, the wonders of the internet. You start out with some very basic questions about human evolution and wind up looking at strange cartoon pictures of sexuality. Delightful.

Now, I assure you, I did not begin my journey through the bowels of Wikipedia with the express intention of seeing cartoon men (and some women) ejaculate onto each other in a variety of interesting ways. But once I found my way down that fascinating hallway of animated splooge, I simply couldn’t resist clicking on every new and wonderful term I came across.


There Can Be No Sanctuary

“What the fuck did you say to me, boy?”

“Sir, I just asked if you want to add fries with that.”

“Don’t fucking sir me, boy, trying to act all high and mighty and proper. Just get me my fucking hamburger, fucking raghead.”

The teenager’s head snaps back, as if he was slapped, and his mouth drops open. He throws Earl’s hamburger into its bag and, gritting his teeth, thrusts the bag through the drive-through window. Earl snatches the food and immediately claws open the hamburger wrapper.

“You probably spit in this too, didn’t you, raghead? Didn’t you?” Earl separates the pieces of the hamburger: pulling apart the bun, the beef patties, the lettuce, looking for the evidence of spit that eludes him.


Praise to the Lord, the Almighty

The Gold, the Glitz
the all empowering artifice.
The Devils, the Angels,
the Great Cross.

The Blood, the Body
the Pain, the Torment, the Punishment

Massive, encompassing, everlasting, overwhelming
and painted in two simple colors:
Black and White
Right and Wrong
Yes and No

Believe in the Power of the Lord
and you will be saved, my Son.

Believe in the Power of the gold,
of the domed roof stretching to the infinitus heavens.

Believe in the Cross that can see all of your
debased thoughts before they ever
pop into your consciousness.

You are a carrier of Evil,
and there is only one way
through to Salvation and Peace: My Way
The Way of God

Can you see them with their heads bowed,
mumbling my incantations in foreign tongue?

Can you feel their lustful desire of hope and
happiness and security billowing out
and expanding the room with inflated self-worth?

Can you see their pious movements-
the kneeling, the forming of the cross upon the chest, the bowed head-
and know they have given themselves to a life of servitude?

Hear the organ play, my Son.
Hear my call.

Fear me for I am All
and you are but a lost speck of dust searching for a bin to call home.


Bite my lip and burrow my sweaty palms in the pockets of my pants and wipe clean the evidence (though scant may it be to onlookers) that damns me for letting words spill out of my mouth that are not direct truths, but carefully composed misdirections.

Keep it clean. Keep it simple. Keep it safe.

Focus on the trivialities. Keep your eyes averted.

Control. Control. Control.

How many nights have I fallen into her trap? She glistens under a spotlight moon, the sparkles in her hair send beams bouncing around the room and into the eyes and hearts of a thousand desperate men, and none more desperate than I.


Glad to be of Service

Dirty laundry, decaying newspapers,
Chinese take-out boxes, and stained sheets.
Plates stacked under the bed, glasses perched on the nearby table
teetering, waiting to tip and spill and tumble and crunch into the floorboards
“Don’t take them off,” she tells me.
She means my shoes,
and I take her advice.

We slide into bed,
cocoon inside the mess,
and push the trash against the wall.
There’s something poking sharply into my back –
a self-improvement book. “Stupid,” I think.
She takes off her skirt and her blouse and her bra
and drops her panties down past her knees and around the
rainbow painted hiking boots still laced and snug around her little feet.

She smells like cigarettes and magazine perfume and curry, but her lips are soft
and her eyes smile and dance and I can see my own goofy
face staring back: a dirty beard, sunken eyes, greasy hair
and a foolish grin and reasonably straight
whitish-yellow teeth that chatter incessantly
when I’m nervous or when I’m trying
to impress someone.
(They often chatter.)


The Apparition

And I awake with her in my arms and the bed is soft and enveloping and the room is dark and cluttered and neither of us have any place to be so we let the hours slip by unheeded. Absentminded conversations spin in circles as I hold her and the light flitters in and around the curtains with the rising sun. She stretches out and slips her lips into mine, but I flinch and jerk back as if I had been slapped. No, no, no, I remember this and I fear it. But she just smiles and kisses me again and the pain floods through my body, oozing through every pore.


Limitless (2011)



Yes, I know I know I know. Normally I would not be caught dead watching a fucking movie like Limitless. I reserve my “bad movies” to things that have Arnie or Sly or are reaaallly stupid, but I was researching films for my drug article. So, I needed to watch Limitless. And actually it’s not all that bad.

I am surprised. It entertained me. It surpassed expectations. It really was a breath of fresh air. It truly allowed me to experience a different experience. Sometimes, I’ll cry when I look back and realize I won’t be able to see this film for the first time again. One day I’ll kill myself and my last thought will be of Limitless. Before I go I’ll hack into the mainframe and send a copy of Limitless to the owner of every computer in the world. Because it has to be done. Earth must see Limitless.


Jus’ Some Fools, Thas’ All

These people got no idea who they’re dealing with. There’s a madman in front of them, and they’re too stupid to recognize they’re tap dancing on the edge of a cliff. And there’s a big gust of wind that’s comin’ to blow them right off the edge.

I can tell Charlie’s starting to lose it. He’s got that distant look in his eyes as though he’s watching a movie from all the way in the back of the theater, and he’s been drooling and doing those weird head twitches too. It won’t be long now. He enjoys this shit. He likes the crazy act, the retard act, it’s all fine to him – any which way just to make them put their guard down. And when they do, it’s all over. I’ve seen it before. The guy’s a fucking mental case.


Fast Times At Dominick’s High (School)

As a ghost, I spent most of my time haunting the hallways and flitting between cliques with enough frequency that none would ever be able to accurately recall if I was there or not, so I was ecstatic to reach my fourth year of high school – senior year – when I would only be required to attend a half days worth of classes before I would be allowed to run, jump, and skip down the hallway and out the door to the parking lot and to my car and into it and out and away from that fucking waste of a place that occupied less of my mind while I attended than it does now.