Well, it’s certainly been an interesting week. Several life altering things have occurred, including, but not limited to, crying like a crazy person alone on the streets of New York while screaming the F word at a cab driver who honked one too many times. Don’t worry, we talked it out. He’s cool.
Being relatively unversed in this form of emotional instability I have had to turn to many a higher power:
1. God: There’s been plenty of prayer, and if I were Him I’d tune me out after the first five minutes. I can go on one hell (sorry) of a prayer tangent.
2. Mom - for months now my mother has been nothing more than an etherial voice on the other end of my phone. Because they still have dial up (they’ve been shunned, don’t worry), we’re incapable of video chat. She’s a faceless being who I pour my heart and soul out to. Like a priest, only she drinks and makes gay jokes.
3. Horoscopes.
Now, please don’t tell number One about number three cause I’m pretty sure according to His rule book I’m not supposed to be dealing in astrological nonsense. Not that He couldn’t figure out what I’m doing on His own, but it’s kinda like when an only child colors on the walls with the crayons and then swears they have no idea where that artwork came from. Feigned naiveté simply makes me cuter.
But honestly, in times of trouble, Mother Mary may come to some, cheap online horoscopes come to others. So I decided to browse a few today and share some psychic wisdom.
Astrology.com - You need to step up your communication today
RE: New Blog Entry
Dailyhoroscopes.com - There is an urge to probe and examine many of your goals these days and you may find yourself working through some strong internal changes.
Oh dailyhoroscopes, how horribly prophetic and yet shockingly generic. This is how cults are formed, because people think they find answers in everything if their spirits are low enough. They’ll believe that anyone or any source has so poetically described their own situation.
But this horoscope is spot on for me.
horoscopes.mydaily.com - Your key planet Mercury is finally regaining speed as it continues to recover from its retrograde phase last month.
You don’t know how many nights of sleep I lost when I heard that Mercury was going through a retrograde phase. Some planets never recover from these phases. They just keep slipping deeper and deeper into retrograde. It’s so hard to watch.
horoscopes.proastro.com - Emotions are strong and upbeat, foundations laid today will be firm and supportive and continue to evolve that way. Feelings of friendship abound and it's easy to see the good side of anyone -- just remember there may be other sides, too
....A for effort, proastro.
Now, like any good middle school English teacher will tell you, I need to find some way to effectively conclude this journal entry. But how utterly poetic and symbolic if I cannot find the perfect way to wrap it up? What if there is no clear path for me to take to bring finality to this situation?
In conclusion, things can suck, but there’s help out there. Choose your deity/ online psychic/ parental figure/ group of wasted friends, and drain from that source its abundant font of celestial signs/ generic wisdom/ comforting counsel/ salsa and chips. Because in the end, nothing sucks forever. Everything in our lives is in a constant rotation of suck, a ferris wheel of awful. One day, something else is gonna suck just as hard and this hurt will be a distant memory, waiting for its ride on the crap mobile.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Monday, April 18, 2011
Lost Biscuit and other stories of Woe
First of all, I should state that I LOVE my Monday nights at the ninth avenue salon.
It's my walks home from my Monday nights that I often dread.
Tonight was different, tonight had potential. Magic potential.
After some persuasion from my friends "Rum and Coke" and "tequila shot" I finally gave in and stopped at the local Fried Food store for what they call the "Snack Pack"; Two pieces of fried chicken, "mashed potatoes", and...wait for it...a biscuit. Now any fellow fried chicken lover knows that, no matter the caliber of chicken, the meal is not complete without the biscuit. I pass the man my four dollars and gladly take my "thank you" bag of deep fried treasures. I nearly skipped home with my loot.
You've been introduced to the biscuit. Now, enters the antagonist.
He comes in the form of a hunched, probably diseased homeless man on my street. Oh I know what you're thinking: how dare I use such a helpless figure as my nemesis in tonight's retelling. Just you wait, doubtful reader.
I had passed by this man three times that day. Each time I delivered different reactions to his supplicatory calls. (one: ignore, two: smile and nod, three: pat pockets, swearing it's in there somewhere all while continuing to walk). So at this point in my journey home I'm faced with a dilemma. I am on my way home with a non recyclable bag filled with a glorified heart attack and I can either reignore this poor soul, or part with a member of my feast.
After long, hard consideration, foolishly I decide to offer him my biscuit. MY BISCUIT. The piece that not only ties together the late night meal, but I'd dare say completes it. It wouldn't be worth the artery clogging goodness without it, but I knew my duty and my task was clear.
I proffered my biscuit. I'm not saying I expected trumpets, medals. I maybe envisioned a parade, but the fantasy was fleeting. No I could have even made due with a nod. A nod that indicated some form of gratitude. Instead:
"Yeah, do you have fifty cents?" I was struck dumb. I stared at my golden brown biscuit in his haggard hands, a biscuit I would have treasured. A biscuit he easily brushed aside...My sacrifice of that carb filled puck, for any chicken enthusiast, indicated my dedication to this charity. And all I got for thanks was inquiries of more. If I had given him that fifty cents, would he have asked for my blood? Probably, ladies and gentlemen. Probably.
I walked away, defeated and beside myself. I had lost my biscuit.
The heartburn is worse when the meal is incomplete.
I'm not sure if there is such a thing as blog karma. If there is, I'm sure this one is coming back to bite me in the ass. But chomp away, BK. I'm a man without a biscuit. All you'll get is a mouthful of crushed dreams.
Seldom yours,
Paul
It's my walks home from my Monday nights that I often dread.
Tonight was different, tonight had potential. Magic potential.
After some persuasion from my friends "Rum and Coke" and "tequila shot" I finally gave in and stopped at the local Fried Food store for what they call the "Snack Pack"; Two pieces of fried chicken, "mashed potatoes", and...wait for it...a biscuit. Now any fellow fried chicken lover knows that, no matter the caliber of chicken, the meal is not complete without the biscuit. I pass the man my four dollars and gladly take my "thank you" bag of deep fried treasures. I nearly skipped home with my loot.
You've been introduced to the biscuit. Now, enters the antagonist.
He comes in the form of a hunched, probably diseased homeless man on my street. Oh I know what you're thinking: how dare I use such a helpless figure as my nemesis in tonight's retelling. Just you wait, doubtful reader.
I had passed by this man three times that day. Each time I delivered different reactions to his supplicatory calls. (one: ignore, two: smile and nod, three: pat pockets, swearing it's in there somewhere all while continuing to walk). So at this point in my journey home I'm faced with a dilemma. I am on my way home with a non recyclable bag filled with a glorified heart attack and I can either reignore this poor soul, or part with a member of my feast.
After long, hard consideration, foolishly I decide to offer him my biscuit. MY BISCUIT. The piece that not only ties together the late night meal, but I'd dare say completes it. It wouldn't be worth the artery clogging goodness without it, but I knew my duty and my task was clear.
I proffered my biscuit. I'm not saying I expected trumpets, medals. I maybe envisioned a parade, but the fantasy was fleeting. No I could have even made due with a nod. A nod that indicated some form of gratitude. Instead:
"Yeah, do you have fifty cents?" I was struck dumb. I stared at my golden brown biscuit in his haggard hands, a biscuit I would have treasured. A biscuit he easily brushed aside...My sacrifice of that carb filled puck, for any chicken enthusiast, indicated my dedication to this charity. And all I got for thanks was inquiries of more. If I had given him that fifty cents, would he have asked for my blood? Probably, ladies and gentlemen. Probably.
I walked away, defeated and beside myself. I had lost my biscuit.
The heartburn is worse when the meal is incomplete.
I'm not sure if there is such a thing as blog karma. If there is, I'm sure this one is coming back to bite me in the ass. But chomp away, BK. I'm a man without a biscuit. All you'll get is a mouthful of crushed dreams.
Seldom yours,
Paul
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