For a long time this particular place has been bereft of color themes /

For the better /

But i just discovered that I can use these tools again /

And so I will /

Cunt is my favorite four letter word of them all.

Ellison

Last time here, I wrote about my challenging week. Tonight I shall discuss a new insight towards those events which at the time I chalked up to "the system" or some such nonsense. My new exlpanation rings much more of Hocus-Pocus than conspiracy theory.

I was raised in a Catholic home and went to a Catholic elementary school, though I am not a man of God. I never had a religious experience in that context and I was never very close to the man we call Jesus, though I was always fascinated by the stories of His life. Eventually, my Mother let me stay home on Sundays and I slowly graduated away from the Catholic Church. I now know god to be something much more than merely the patriarch of Christian folklore.

On the night of my crash, I spoke casually at the top of a hill with strangers. We spoke of joyous things and exchanged drinks or cigarettes or whatever we had at hand. At one point I found myself exclaiming in a most suprising and fluidly natural manner: "Praise be to god!" I have never said that and meant it in earnest, before that night. The only time before in my life when I have uttered that phrase was under my breath, as required, in response to certain cues by the priest during the Catholic Mass. Whatever it was that I was giving thanks to god for, I do not recall. Though at the time I remember thinking that what I said, while surprising, was not the least bit innappropriate. My new theory is that the god whom I called forth for praise is now testing me to see if I really am as joyful as I have made myself out to be.

So far I think I'm passing.

I think the system is trying to break me

For the past week, I've been under assault by "The System." Thats the myth I'm going with. It started on Friday. I called Trader Joe's and they said they weren't interested in hiring me. Later, I got my rejection letter in the mail from the City of Pasadena. They don't want me to work in their library. I put some nice clothes on and went down there to force the issue. Not much luck. I got a business card with a name scribbled on it. "Leave a message with this guy."

Later that night, I went on a bike ride with 1,000 other people. Lots of drinking and smoking of drugs. Holding up traffic all throughout Los Angeles. Midnite Ridazz. Ended up on a hill overlooking Dodger Stadium. On my way home I crashed my bike. The guy behind me ran over my head. No major damage was done, and I got to enjoy a truly overwhelming release of adrenaline. Rolling with those punches rather well.

Next day. Saturday. In the morning I get pulled over with Angie. My registration is expired. Cop #1 was giving Cop #2 some ticket writing lessons so it took extra long. What really burns me up about it is that in retropsect, Cop #1 gave me an opportunity to talk my way out of it. I was too busy being cool to notice.

Angie buys me a nice breakfast in Hollywood. When we are done we see that my keys are locked in my car. So is my wallet. So is my phone. The restaurant people are nice, and let me wait on hold with triple AAA for 20 minutes.

Guitar Center offers me $60 for a guitar that I need to sell for $250.00. No deal.

Sunday night. I'm riding my bike to Mom's house for dinner. Its about an hour's ride, and at one point I decide to take a shortcut. Via the 210 freeway. Up one ramp and down the other. About halfway through I notice a car is pacing me. CHP. I contemplate making a break for it once we get off the freeway. It seems possible. Bikes can go where cars can't. Nerves make me decide against it. I get a ticket for disobeying a sign. I stare down the people looking at me from their cars.

Monday. I drive out to La Brea and the 10 freeway to sell my guitar for $225.00 On the way home I loose my water pump. AAA tows me to Mitch's Auto. This little setback drains the rest of my credit card. I am now pretty near penniless, but I can make rent.

Tuesday is Valentine's Day. I don't go much for holidays.

Wenseday I meet with Kevin from the City of Pasadena. He convinces me that I'm not getting the job I want, but I can apply for a shittier one thats opening up in March.

Angie made out with some girl on Sunday. At first it didn't bother me, but now I'm thinking this might be a good time to break it off.

Definition

Art is what happens when nothings left over.

If I have a child.

It is going to be a He.

And his name will be,

Alan

If he happens to be a She,

I suppose Allison will work just fine.

I am going to start a new blog.

The subject matter will consist of the following:

Riding a bicycle (bike) in the city of Los Angeles.

It is a good subject.

Trust me.

If everyone stopped paying attention to national politics and instead payed attention to local politics, maybe national politicians would start doing their job better.

It's not too often I get mad, and even when I do there still isn't much in the way of fireworks. I jest get real focussed and impatient and do my best to calmly let people know that they are being needlessly retarded.

I am very poor right now. My bank account has -122.28 dollars in it, and I have $500 left on my credit card. Rent is due. Last night, however, I wanted to get thai food with my girlfriend. Oh, she is broke too, by the way. So I call the restaurant to make sure they take "Discover" brand credit cards, because a lot of people don't. The lady says "yeah", I say "cool". We go. The place is neat. I'd never been there before, and it had just been remodeled so it was kind of new to Angie, too. We got one big order of Tofu Pad-Thai and Angie got a fresh coconut, which I thought was cool but not very tasty. She drank/ate the whole thing herself.

So the bill comes around and I toss out my Discover Card. She comes back and asks for a visa or a mastercard or an atm card or something.

"Huh?"

We don't accept Discover.

"HUH?"

I immediately understand the gravity of the situation. That card that they don't accept is the only way we have to pay the bill, which was about ten dollars. Turns out the lady on the phone thought I had said Debit card. I did not say debit card. I would seriously bet my pinky finger that I said Discover, and I'm a musician. I really love my pinky.

It turns out that the source of the misunderstanding is a person on the other end of the phone who doesn't understand english very well. I am now angry. I do my best to explain that this little situation is not entirely my responsiblity. The waitress, instead of talking to her manager or god-forbid do something about it herself, she goes about cleaning up other tables and ignoring us completely. Are we supposed to run out now?

After much more bullshit, the woman who seemed to be in control is talking to me. She doesn't seem to be full of ideas, either. I tell her, "Lady, we can't pay you. We would like to, but your little phone person got us over here with a discover card, and now we want to leave, but we can't because you can't make up your mind." We had a camera on the table. She says "Leave the camera, go to an atm."

Bitch. On the way to the atm, Angie and I pretty much agree, that in that situation you let the people go. No charge. Good karma all around. It's just the way the restaurant business works. If you are the least bit at fault for something, the house takes the fall. Especially if its for a ten dollar meal at a local place that relies on local repeat customers. I really liked the food there. I totally would have come back tipping big (once I got a job) if they let us go.

So anyway, I call up Discover and figure out how to use their card as an atm card. I come back with a 20 dollar bill. They had started to close up, and the gate in front of the front door is chained up. The lady that had answered the phone came and opened the door. I was half expecting that she was just going to hand me my camera and say "Don't worry about it, sorry for the trouble." And to my surprise, she hands the camera through the gate. There wasn't anything but an awkward silence, though. I kind of studder, and she asks in an impatient tone, "Are you going to pay?" Keep in mind she is on the other side of a chained up gate. I say "No, because I don't think I should have to." I walked away. I felt really good about it.

Are you here because you typed "motherfucker" into a search engine?

or

Are you here because you are looking for pictures of Ashley Blue?

A name is a bridge.

The name of an object is a bridge to that object.

If you know the name of an object, then you can take things from it and leave things with it.

The name of a man is a bridge to that man.

If you know the name of a man, then you can take things from him and leave things with him.