Tuesday, April 29, 2008

all the way to timbuktu

alright. explanations. or not. what do i care?

the new mexico thing? we own a house in new mexico. we would prefer to not own a house in new mexico, but there you have it.

a few months ago, we put it up "for sale or lease" with the idea that we would see which happened first.

this lady rented it for a year. then proceeded to yammer on and on about how she wanted to buy it when her lease was up. it was for fucking sale when you signed the lease!! then she wanted us to drop money to make improvements. our realtor suggested waiting until she had actually put down "good faith" money towards the buy. we agreed. then she was late with every subsequent rent payment. which didn't affect us that much, but wreaked bloody hell with the property management company.

then on wednesday, we get an email from the property management company: she not only paid late, but the check bounced. on top of that, we have had some interested buyers who have been unable to view the house because she is being completely uncooperative with the realtor. did we want to start the eviction process?

of fucking course.

well, her son came forward, covered her bad check, and paid may's rent. i guess we will hold off and see how things go. but she is treading on thin ice, thin fucking ice i'm telling you, and better be beyond cordial to my realtor and potential buyers, or sod her sorry fucking ass!

friday seemed like it was going to be an unassuming day, with little or nothing really going on. i had sort of hoped to spend an extended session on the magnum crappus. on my way to work out, i saw there were a couple garage sales not far from me, so after my work out, and shower, i walked over to them.

and my day went from ho hum to fireworks and cotton candy and clowns in about a minute.

i went to one garage sale (crap) and then ambled over to the other on the same cul-de-sac, and there, shining before me, with a chorus of angels chanting heavenly odes behind it, was a drumset.

i, of course, do not get my hopes up. "how much you hoping to get for the drumset?" i ask as casually as possible, and with a look on my face that i already expect it is going to be more than i have readily available.

"oh man, that is my neighbor's and he just left. say, $20?"

blink blink. i fight the urge to look confused, ram my finger into my ear and corkscrew it back and forth in some exaggerated slapstick version of cleaning my aural canal and say, "wa-huh?!?"

"$20?" i say.

"20 bucks."

"i don't have 20 on me (i had 14, but there was no way i was going to try and talk this down. for my overseas readers, twenty dollars is about 12.85 euros, and about 10.16 in british pounds, (and 146.62 dirhams for lady macleod, heh heh) to say, "would you take 14?" would not just be looking in the mouth, but jamming myself right down the fucking throat of the proverbial gift horse!), but if you give me a sec, i will run to the atm."


off i go. now, not only am i thinking i am going to get the cash, but this will also give him time to get on the horn with his neighbor so his neighbor can say, "what the fuck?!? are you outta your goddamn mind?"

but when i get back, he's still sticking to the 20 bucks. he mentions that it isn't all there. which i already knew. but the bulk of it is, and it is even a pretty decent kit (the hardware and shells that i had were running upwards of 600 dollars online when i got home). so i blew the entire day setting it up, fine-tuning it, figuring out what i still needed to start playing it, looking online for parts and additions, dusting it off, hugging it, rubbing myself against it, calling everyone and having them come over to check it out, and waiting for the irate neighbor to come storm my garage and demand his drumset back, or at least more money.

i figure if i am thrifty and bide my time for the stuff i need to appear in used and inexpensive condition, i can put the whole thing together for about 220 dollars (including my initial $20 expenditure) and have a kit that is worth at least triple that.

i stepped on a gecko this morning. i didn't mean to. he kinda darted under my foot as i was putting it down, and i tried valiantly to prevent myself from squishing him (damn near fell down!) but alas, to no avail. i didn't smash him completely flat, but just enough, apparently, to kill him, and make his tiny body stick to the carpet. you know what else is icky? geckos' tails detach. and when they do, it is like when you remove the head from a chicken. the tail goes apeshit. now, imagine i just smashed a gecko, and am already feeling a little queasy and guilty, then try to remove it from the rug by the tail, which then snaps off and commences to whipping around like a crazed snake on meth. yeah. exactly. closest i have ever come to leaping up onto a chair and dancing around whilst shrieking, i can assure you.

and to the non-existants who have commented on older posts, i have only just recently discovered that you had, but today i commented on your comments. and ms anonymous, welcome to the fold of non-existants, i will probably add your blog to the pals list soon.

i am, kinda, still slogging away at the magnum crappus. it is slow going. but i am.

and no, i don't feel like i have to have a clever ending to every post.

darth sardonic

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Thursday, April 24, 2008

i'm still at it...

mostly. when life doesn't get in the way.

on a completely different tack: if i was ever a teacher (and i am not and never will be in this lifetime--but you know, alternate universe or whatever) i would throw out random nonsequitors and say, "just fyi. cause it may be on the quiz" and then it actually would, heh heh.

the quiz might be like:

1) Who wrote tropic of cancer?

2) What is the symbolism behind the turtle in steinbeck's grapes of wrath?

3) renters in new mexico a) bite donkey dick b) suck ass or c) should be strung up by their pubic hairs?

anyways, hoping to be back here a little more solidly soon. but no promises. if you don't expect to much from me, you might not be let down.

darth sardonic

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Wednesday, April 16, 2008

a synopsis...

on a break from writing on/refining/cursing at the magnum crappus.

here's a rundown of what you have missed:

write. fret. write. curse. write. worry. try to ignore kids' noises. write. scrap about 5 pages cause they're shite (i know, i know, never stopped me before--but this isn't just a blog post this time). write. grumble. orlando, seaworld, jamming with friends, and too much alcohol (if stephen king has taught me one thing, it is "all work and no play makes jack an axe-murderer"). lose saturday as a result of being tired, sore, and hungover. write. smile. beach. "be quiet goddammit!" followed by 20 minutes staring at the screen trying to recapture the absolutely fucking brilliant paragraph i had in my head. finally say "fuck it!" and take chapter in a slightly different direction. write. chew nails. write. mail a few chapters to friends to look over. write. frown. look at calendar: "holy fucking shit! april is half over!" write. gitch. appointments for kids. write. "god this thing is a pain in the ass!" write. breathe. write. cry (rereading some of the chapters puts me right back there again, and i can't help myself). write. interview for golf course job (in about an hour--wooo hooooo!) daydream about what i am gonna do with the money when the magnum crappus spends a month or two on the new york times' best seller list (quit your fucking laughing, i said daydreaming!! jesus!)

and post.

darth sardonic


Friday, April 11, 2008

i am...

i am working quite a bit on my magnum crappus. which doesn't leave alot of energy for here, i am afraid, o my beloved non-existants. but i promise, back soon with witty stories and such.

darth sardonic


Wednesday, April 09, 2008

a day no balloons would die...

i left that last post up way too long. sorry. but ty to one and all for the support and comiseration (not really sure how to spell that--obviously), and to dj for offering to share her contacts.

i had a nasty dream this morning that no. 1 dove into a deep, fast, roiling river fully clothed (and with a very heavy coat on) while i was carrying no. 2 and before i could convince him it would be a bad idea. and there i was stuck, watching him swirl away and torn; do i leave one here to get the other? in the dream, in the end, i went back to where we were staying (across the street from the river) and woke up my drunk neighbors to get their help. by then, no. 1 was coming down the street towards me. i woke up before i could unleash all my fear and anger on him to never do that again.

this dream left me feeling... hollow, scared, frustrated, and a bit depressed. this is my mortal fear, to be placed into a position where, due to the actions of one child, i am forced to put both children into less-than-savory conditions. or worse, choose.

the me in my dream was so panicy and angry and upset he was actually standing on the banks of the river with no. 2 in hand, dancing from foot to foot, crying, and shouting obscenities at the disappearing boy.

i pray to the gods that tolerate us that i never find myself in this position. i think i might immediately qualify for the looney bin (or at least once my kids are safe. i think i would actually remain semi calm until i had taken care of my kids, and then, well, then all bets are off!)

friday, we took the boys out to a nearby restaraunt that caters to families and children. ate wonderful dinners, had too much ice cream sundaes, and left with a balloon each for the boys.

"now, let mommy and daddy hold these balloons, cause if you let them go, they will float away and we will never get them back, ok?"

"k, daddy." no. 1 says, dancing along and smiling, happy as a clam.

"oh my god!" my wife says a moment later.

the balloon i am holding is floating away. the ribbon tied to the plastic keeper had come loose, and the balloon is rising over the palm trees while i still firmly grip the cheap white ribbon intended to keep it grounded.

i apologize profusely. and feel horrible. and am mad at the same time at the unlucky position i have been forced into by circumstances beyond my control. naturally, it looks like i just didn't care, and allowed the balloon to float away minutes after saying i should hold it to prevent that very same thing from happening.

no. 1 fights bravely, but by the time he is in the car, he is bawling. my wife goes back inside to get another balloon.

she brings it back, and hands it to no. 1. he is smiling through his tears, and thanking mommy profusely, and waving it grandly in the air when BAM!

it pops.

he is crying again. and we are unable to do anything to console him, except convince no. 2 (who says, "here, no. 1, you pay wif my b'loon.") to share his.

we decide to stop off and walk along the mostly-empty beach before going home. no. 1 and no. 2 share the balloon, happy again, and pleased at the prospect of a walk along the ocean.

we park, and take our shoes off to cut down on the amount of sand getting tracked everywhere. i open the back of the vehicle to toss no. 2's shoes in, but he is dawdling getting them off.

"darth! darth!" my wife shouts at me.

"what?" i ask and look up in time to see the horrified look on no. 1's face, the angry look on my wife's, and then pan quickly to see the third balloon arcing gracefully over a stoplight, its ribbon trailing behind it like an errant kite tail, hellbent for parts unknown.

it had floated itself free through the back hatch i left open to toss the shoes into.

an overwhelming wave of uselessness and ineffectuality slams me like a hapless swimmer getting buffeted by a riptide. no. 1 is standing there, biting his lip, eyes full of new tears. no. 2 is pointing and jumping up and down: "the b'loon! the b'loon!" the wife looks disgusted.

and for a moment, i am alone in the universe, futile, worthless, battered, tired, kicked in the face by fate, too exhausted to even raise my hands to the heavens and shout out: "why?" i have let everyone down. i have failed. i have fucked everything up, and regardless of how much i try, how much progress i make, i always will fuck everything up.

after some introspective time walking the empty sand, and after my sons' short term memory softens the edges of the balloon incident, i self-deprecatingly quip, "i guess god didn't want us to have balloons tonight. just wasn't meant to be."

my wife laughs, but i still feel that tiny, ice-cold hollow in my chest.

darth sardonic

o my beloved non-existants. originally the balloon story was intended to have a comic turn, and make everyone laugh. strange how sharing about my dream completely changed the mood of where i was going with the post. i often find that blogging (and writing in general)does this on me: i may intend to start out one way, but my writing is a very organic thing, and often "gets away from me" and becomes something i hadn't originally intended. is that to say that i didn't really feel the things i wrote about the balloon incident until today, in light of the dream i had this morning, and the mood it left me in? no. no, i really did feel like i had fucked things up. but things still ended up happy and overall not gloomy and even a bit humerous after. all those bits got left out in the wake of the mood i woke up in, and started this post in. and i am sorry, really, cause it appears between the last post and this post that i find myself in some sort of depressive downward spiral. which is actually not the case, simply two (three) seperate incidents that have combined themselves to appear as if i am sitting here after two weeks of being low with razors against my arms crying out "why me? why me?" worry not, o fair non-existant readers, this is simply not the case.

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Friday, April 04, 2008

time/space continuum

i didn't get the job.

and i am really trying to remember my quip about fucking up the time/space continuum. but it is not really helping much.

i can't even land a job doing the one fucking thing i am actually qualified to do.

the one fucking thing i am qualified for, and i can't even pull that off.

oh, and i am tired, beloved non-existants. tired, and confused, and aggravated, disgruntled, and bemused.

so, i guess i will buckle down on my book, and whoring out my chapters, whilst trying to find a part-time in retail or perhaps slinging pizzas again (i am an extremely shitty waiter, or i might give that a shot), and continue being shuttle/sherpa/housekeeper.

and whining about it here.

darth sardonic

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