You'll protest your Complicity

today i gave back.

i didn't really know what i was signing up for when i told my wife "sure." unload some boxes. move things. community service.

after breakfast, we went to the place where my wife and i, and some of her coworkers were to meet to do our volunteer community service.

the war veteran's museum.

from there, we went to the military reserve building, to unload food, clothing, sleeping bags, toiletries, and coats so that the 200 or so homeless veterans that operation stand down is expecting to show up tomorrow will be able to take them when they leave.

we were five of probably 100 to 150 volunteers. people from the community. active duty folks representing all branches of the armed forces. retired military. veterans, proudly wearing their pow/mia hats, their "vietnam vet" tshirts, limping as they walked from organizing tshirts to the table of socks.

i served. yeah, my service was mostly selfish. i needed a job. i needed money for college.

part of my job was to sit in a comfy office chair, behind a large desk, and tell elderly gentlemen who had been shot at, wounded possibly, serving their country that while i appreciated, beyond my ability to convey, what they had done for their country, and for me; that their country no longer gave a shit about them. not in so many words, of course. i liked my job. i wanted to hang onto it. but that is what it boiled down to, o my beloved non-existant readers. as a country, we no longer give a shit.

but i give a shit.

i love my country. of course, it is fucked up. i know. maybe all too well, actually. but i still love it. it is my country. it is my home. it isn't any better than anyone else's country, and i would proudly stand respectfully as another country's national anthem is played. but this is my country. it's my country because those men and women who will walk into the armory tomorrow and wait for a hand out went to foriegn soil. because they, and the people before them, believed in this country. believed in what it stands for.

and now they find themselves in need of new underwear. new socks. warm sleeping bags. a poncho to keep the rain off. someone who still gives a shit.

and, o beloved non-existants, my faithful few who still swing around, i am proud to say, with tears in my eyes:

i give a shit.

and:

thank you.

darth sardonic

I pulled off your wings...

Then I laughed

i should be cleaning house, and folding laundry right now.

well, actually, i should be working, earning a paycheck, but since that isn't gonna happen this week, my alternative is to straighten out my abode.

i should be pouring out page after page of my new manuscript like a man possessed, but alas. i'm just not feeling it right now. this might be a big indication as to why it took me ten years to complete The Unfinished Work. apparently, it is gonna take another ten fucking years for the godforsaken publishers to get it done. i kinda wish they would just email me and say, "we cannae publish this tripe, what t'e fuck's wrong wit' yeh?"

at least then i would know.

i probably shouldn't be such a fucking whiner. and i don't really mean this to be whiney, but no doubt it is sounding like that.

i just kinda feel blah.

n it's not that i haven't thought of clever things to blog about, o ye beloved and long-suffering non-existant readers, who have, no doubt, moved on to greener pastures where decent writers regularly spin tales of sun and heroism and beautiful lust and clever characters who ever do the noble thing, but every time i want to sit down to capture these clever bits and perceptions, some other thing looms, daunting, hanging over my shoulder like a spectre of a mountainous(and i have changed and retyped that word about 5 times because the spelling just looks horribly wrong to me. looked it up in the dictionary and it does, in fact, have both a u and an i. huh. interesting) pile of unfolded, and yet clean, laundry that threatens to engulf me.

in the past, my writer's blocks have been like short stabs. a day or two of not being inspired and/or not having the energy to capture the thoughts. this time round, it appears they have been happening in rapid succession, mini-strokes that threaten to build into a massive explosion that will, once and for all, rob me completely of any talent i might've been harboring like a stowaway.

life, in and of itself, is good. things are well. as i might've alluded previously, amid the economic slump, we find ourselves with more expendable funds than we have ever had, and are (wisely, we like to think) using them (mostly) to pay off bills in a timely fashion.

nos. 1 and 2 are well, and progress in leaps in bounds, though i have to say, no. 2 has taken to watching the indiana jones movies in french or spanish and then attempting, (rather poorly, i might add) to mimic them: walking up to me while i wrestle with autocad homework, and saying, "gallump badump gump." to which i am forced to reply: "que joda de bromiado me haces, che!" and he fires back with "dododo magoodoo." after which, i tell him, "your english is still desperately lacking, let's take it one language at a time, yeah?"

my fucking italics button is bollocking me bad this entire post, which is, as you can imagine, frustrating the sweet bejesus out of me.

hence, i am just gonna wrap this little shitball of a post up right here rather than drag it out painfully to some bitter and disappointing end.

more soon, i hope. and in a happier vein.

darth sardonic

he jung

sometimes others just say it better:

Yeah, my girlfriend takes me home when I'm too drunk to drive/and she doesn't get all jealous when I hang out with the guys.../she laughs at my dumb jokes when no one does/she brings me mexican food from Sombrero's just because/And when I feel like giving up/like my world is falling down/I show up at 3 am/she's still up watching Vacation,/and I see her pretty face/it takes me away to a better place and/(I know that everything) everything's gonna be fine

blink 182, josie

when you think your chance is passing by/when you blow your moon away/I'll bleed like the reed/fall with your knife/it's here I'll be with you

peter murphy, fall with your knife

I won't stop following you/now help me pray for/the death of everything new/then we'll fly farther/cause you're my girl/and that's alright

deftones, rx queen

If only i had more time,/I'd take you where you wanted to go./Italy isn't the same without you here./If only I had one wish,/I'd want a million trillion lifetimes/that I could spend with you.../Fall in love with you again and again.

the ataris, looking back on today

there was nothing in the world that i ever wanted more/than to feel you deep in my heart/there was nothing in the world that i ever wanted more/than to never feel the breaking apart/all my pictures of you

the cure, pictures of you

a good friend is hard to find/but you'll have one if you open your eyes/a good friend is hard to find/i found you/will you be mine?

codiene, hard to find

and probably the most important of all time:

If you need a friend,/don't look to a stranger,/You know in the end,/I'll always be there.../I'm sorry, but I'm just thinking of the right words to say./I know they don't sound the way I planned them to be./And if I have to walk the world to make you fall for me,/I promise you, I promise you I will

when in rome, the promise

happy valentine's.

and yes, i am crying, but only cause i am a pansy.

and i know that i might've taken some songs out of context, chalk it up to creative license. also, it may appear like this was an easy way out, but if you knew how long it took to figure out which songs i wanted to use, then find the lyrics, etc etc, anyways, it's more about the feeling anyhow.

darth sardonic