A change of pace....

Something different from the usual tripe.... poetic (tripe!)



I walked away today
I sent them all away
There wasn't much else for us to go,
I'll write it all down now, set the photos along the wall
Strike the match, dump the gas
And burn it all

They say that life's the culmination of events
It's the awareness of one be-ing,
In the blink of an eye by inches or a mile
It doesn't take much for us to die.

But we keep going on, moving on,
Changing and caring about the trivialities of the day to day
Grinding out our lives and carving our niches
Finding paradise in a world full of serpents in the thickets
We don't give up we try again
As we fall we reach out for a hold
It's always a toss up if we end up out in the cold

It's not enough to make me panic
It's not enough to make me frantic
I won't let this go up in flame again
I just want the old to begin anew
And have reincarnation make its due
And once I step back
If I choose to move back
There's nowhere else to go
As yesterday has flown away
I let my eyes turn to the sky
As I never got.... to say good-bye.

Good night to everybody
Sweet dreams to the sleepers
Sweet music to the makers
Dulce vita to the lovers
Make the most of what you have
Turn the day into your palette and make what it is you wanted
It's never too late, it's never just fate
We perish at complacency we extinguish at stagnation
If that's what you're wishin'
You're not with me.

The game....

Seriously, is it really that easy? I gave women a lot more credit. I've heard about Players and this Game that they run. Insult first, come up with an icebreaker, summon forth a positive memory or thought to associate with yourself... O RLY?

Please tell me the long lost art of saying "Hi" is not lost. At least, not yet. A buddy of mine swears by this. He does it almost every time we go out; he'll try and run some method or another on a female. And it usually works! I hate to admit it but he just might have a point. On a random note: A writing sample? Seriously?! Maybe I'm outraged because I struggle so much with talking to girls. Hating on guys who follow this mythical playbook? Absofuckinglutely. It's inane, it's manipulative, and it's the reason why I gave my ex a longstanding suspicion of men as a separation present.

I like just saying hi and working magic from there. It's always a risk approaching someone, anyone especially when it comes to hoping they acknowledge you in that special "Let's get nekkid" kinda way. I want to say it doesn't come down to a simple formula of actions and steps. Sure it takes practice and quick thinking in action but the tool still exists for a tool to use.

I'm a romantic when it comes to this stuff, and I'm sure it doesn't apply to all women. Maybe they do initially have an attraction depending on the way the guy makes his approach and I just see it as sleazy because I know what they're doing. Ok, ultimately a woman digs a man with confidence, which I can't argue with. Who would want to deal with a guy who can't stand up straight? It could be that having a plan and a tool puts these guys in the mindset a woman finds awesome. It's not the approach but the practitioner. Whatever it takes to get someone to work up the nerve, right? Ah well, knock yourselves out people. Maybe social darwinism'll kick in and you guys have enough rope to hang yourselves.

When Harry Met Sally...

"Female friends are girls you just haven't slept with yet."- not sure where this came from.


Harry Burns: You realize of course that we could never be friends.
Sally Albright: Why not?
Harry Burns: What I'm saying is - and this is not a come-on in any way, shape or form - is that men and women can't be friends because the sex part always gets in the way.
Sally Albright: That's not true. I have a number of men friends and there is no sex involved.
Harry Burns: No you don't.
Sally Albright: Yes I do.
Harry Burns: No you don't.
Sally Albright: Yes I do.
Harry Burns: You only think you do.
Sally Albright: You say I'm having sex with these men without my knowledge?
Harry Burns: No, what I'm saying is they all WANT to have sex with you.
Sally Albright: They do not.
Harry Burns: Do too.
Sally Albright: They do not.
Harry Burns: Do too.
Sally Albright: How do you know?
Harry Burns: Because no man can be friends with a woman that he finds attractive. He always wants to have sex with her.
Sally Albright: So, you're saying that a man can be friends with a woman he finds unattractive?
Harry Burns: No. You pretty much want to nail 'em too.
Sally Albright: What if THEY don't want to have sex with YOU?
Harry Burns: Doesn't matter because the sex thing is already out there so the friendship is ultimately doomed and that is the end of the story.
Sally Albright: Well, I guess we're not going to be friends then.
Harry Burns: I guess not.
Sally Albright: That's too bad. You were the only person I knew in New York.


I hate to admit it, but I get really affected by ideas I see in movies and tv. Pop culture and John Cusack shaped a whole lot of my personality, even Adam Carolla and Dr. Drew. I'm a bit more than that I know, but to say I didn't internalize anything I've watched time and again would be some outright bullshit.

Let's go with my perspective on what really amounts to something honestly pretty silly. It's when boy meets girl (or in our day and age, anyone that fits our romantic orientation.) "When Harry met Sally" has this whole dialogue about how (straight) men and women cannot be friends since from the start there's an underlying sexual tension, especially on the guy's part.

I like this idea. A majority of the reason a guy would approach a girl is to see if he can hit on her, and possibly pursue more. I've done it. I have friends who have done it. Hell I know girls who have done it. Ladies, don't fool yourselves. By the time a guy's approached you, chances are he's imagined you naked or will in the next few minutes. Of course this does not necessarily hold in the case of job interviews, family functions, etc. Mostly just in social, informal interactions and events. This all only applies if the guy is straight though. I am not bi or gay so I cannot comment on that. But to be honest it's that initial attraction and promise of naked dancing that a guy would even say hi to a girl. Maybe it's a momentary lapse in judgment or an extreme circumstance. But normally you'd be hard-pressed to figure any other reason that a male would approach the female unless he wants to "make time."

Even when the relationship evolves into a platonic kind of situation, that only exists because a conversation started due to the initial attraction. We approach because we want to bone. If we become friends and we're ok with that, that's what we'll do. If not, we'll bide our time, build a case for ourselves, and one day maybe reach that Breaking Point. You know the one. Standing outside with a boombox. Declaring affection in a public space or in a car during a rainstorm. Maybe writing a note and taping it in someone's locker. Risk all that friendship to maybe just maybe hit that level we initially wanted to be. And maybe just maybe it will work! Or we cut our losses and drop the entire situation.

It doesn't have to be that way, and we're evolved enough that it doesn't have to end like that, but that attraction is/was/will be there. Whether to act or write it off is on our end. The whole thing isn't rocket science. Girls I've known either try to defuse the guy and keep him as a friend, or remain blissfully oblivious to "Hey, this guy might like me! He does things for me and makes me presents, but of course he's just a really good friend even when he writes poetry about me."


Shame on me for not seeing things for what they were. Shame on you for trying to have your cake and eat it too.


More on this later, I'm sure.

Now I remember...

This past weekend I subjected myself to the phenomena known as "clubbing." The place? Crobar. The time? 11ish. The fun? Meh!

Seriously, it was one of the nicer looking places I've been to. Reasonably spacious, good looking crowd, dark, even some kickin' beats. Was it a be-all end-all good time? Not for me. I've never been a person who feels comfortable or does well in a club. I've been told it's a state of mind. I don't feel like picking girls up in places like that, I'd much rather try in a bar or some other setting where... I don't know... I can actually talk to the girl. The loud music, the requirement for first appearances, having to resort to mind-fuck manipulation, it's too much work and involves too much planning/preparation. I suppose I'm jumping the gun, not thinking about the act of interacting but instead focusing on the outcome and future of doing that. Considering what a waste of time it is between myself and whoever I'd be trying to pick up.

Whatever, I was there for a birthday anyway. The place was a once-in-a-while deal, but I'll stick with my guns. Which right now remain holstered, all the same.

THINK! YOU GOTTA THINK (THINK)

(Xposted from myspace)

And henceforth, let it be noted that I do none of the following-

1) I do not work at Wal-Mart
2) I do not work at Target (anymore)
3) See 1 and 2.
4) I AM NOT YOUR FUCKING PIZZA DELIVERY GUY.

The past few months (and even farther back) have been pretty eye opening. Usually when I visit a department store, it's so I can do one thing- SHOP. Once upon a time in a land called Undergraduate I worked at Target. I have since left that continent for the 9-5erland. HOWEVER, as was the case two weeks ago in Target, in the span of maybe 20 mins. I was mistaken for an employee twice. I had a shopping cart full of goods (that I was buying), a pair of cargo shorts (not khaki), and a BLACK ARMY SURPLUS VEST on. Once, a woman asked if I knew where facial cleanser was. The second time was better- I needed pop and two ladies had decided to park their carts abreast the entire aisle. Moving one aside, I reached for my poison of choice, only to be interrupted. Turning around, an Old Lady asked me every so sweetly, "Excuse me, do you have anything here without Splenda?"

.......

Goddammit.

I told her I didn't work at Target, and she at first continued to look at me, as if staring me down would make me break down, that I had tried to confuse her. That I TRULY DID WORK at Target, and here was Mr. Smart Guy trying to lie to her. Her excuse for such an assumption, "Oh, you were just so efficient!"

Riiight. Meaning I know what I want, and don't have to piddle-paddle over every single damn ingredient on the label. The Springtime of Youth!

At Wal-Mart, employees wear vests with "HOW MAY I HELP YOU?" Emblazoned in big white letters against a dark navy background. Ineffectual. As I can attest, with every visit I've had at Wal-Mart SOMEONE thinks I work there. I could be shopping, I could be elbows-deep in the bargain video game bin. Someone always thinks I know how to work the self-serve register (which I do, but still not my concern) or where Some Item is in the store. T-shirt/shorts/sandals, hat, doesn't matter.

Maybe one day I should go to wal-mart dressed up like I work at Target. Name tag and everything.

The best had to be when I was at ACen this past year. I had some leftover pizza in a box, wearing my staff badge, tank top, Autobot forehead protector, a pair of shorts. I was standing in the lobby looking for my friends and some chap comes running up to me, holding his wallet.

"Excuse me! Medium pepperoni, extra cheese...?"
*blank stare from me*
*....Dawn of Realization from him*
"You aren't the Pizza Guy, are you?"
"No.... CON STAFF."
*dejection as he turns around and walks away.



....... Yeah. That right there is the topper I think.


For the record, that was pizza for my damn roommates, thanks.


Can some people please take a moment before assuming something about someone who is OBVIOUSLY NOT IN THE STORE UNIFORM?

Thankfully, it doesn't happen with EVERYBODY in the store. There's hope yet!

It happened..... on the TRAIN!

Once upon a Red Line…

The journey started simple enough, just another day getting on the red line- destination: Home. Lucky enough to have a seat to myself, I found my eyes wandering around the car as always, watching… waiting. Finally, the Red Line Theater was about to begin.

A 30ish man had positioned himself at one door of the train, leaned against the glass partition leafing through a copy of a periodical entitled, Black Men. On the cover, some young ingénue whose name was unimportant, since her assets were plastered all over where the text on the cover would be. Look left, a woman in her 20s is reading a book.

Then… her eyes go up. Focusing on the man ahead of her she sees the magazine. He’s tilted it while reading, exposing the women on the pages to her own line of sight. Her eyes slit, the train seems to quiet down. She casts her gaze downward to the knowing pages of her book, but they swing back up again. And again. One more time, and each successive look seems to furrow her brow deeper and deeper. The air is thick with intent, disgust, and restraint. She seems revolted, that someone could so openly parade a magazine full of half-naked ladies so shamelessly: especially under the guise of mouthing the words as if he were actually reading instead of flipping from photo spread to photo spread. She would rip that magazine out of his hands, if she wanted to.

Instead, she resolutely looks back down to the pages of her book, forgetting about the ladies draped all over his pages. The train, like time, moves on… until the next stop, at least. There was a woman next to the reading woman, taking up a seat next to the aisle. She got up, leaving a spot next to the reader vacant. The Magazine Man, took notice and decided to become the new occupant.

Needless to say, Reading Woman was a little off-put to say the least. She glanced at the Magazine Man and then quickly replaced her bookmark, closed up, then stood up at the next stop, distancing herself quite expeditiously. Salvation came when another passenger disembarked, leaving her an open seat nowhere near Magazine Man.

Her dilemma wasn’t finished yet though… oh lord no. She reached her destination alright… but it was Magazine Man’s stop too.