Thursday, December 13, 2012

Worm Food

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I was reading an article last night that made me remember something  that I hadn’t thought of in a long time. It was when I first realized that we are just matter. After years of Catholic school, and hearing about Jesus, and all the prayers referencing death, and family deaths, you begin to think about death. But this was a different thing. I’m talking about a time back in the 1970’s and 80’s when close to where I lived, it was common to just abandon your big consumer garbage on a deserted street. Refrigerators, sofas, TV’s.. you name it. Stolen cars would sit there until they were stripped for parts, windows broken, and then used by the neighbors as a place to throw empty beer bottles into.
Another thing you don’t see too much of today is dead animals on the street. There would always be the carcass of a dead cat, dog, pigeon or squirrel that would just lie there until nature herself made it disappear.  As far as we were concerned, or the kids at least, it was like gum on the sidewalk or sneakers on the phone wires.  This one time there was a cat on the sidewalk that had somehow just been killed. It was unusual because normally by the time we got to it, it would was partially smashed beyond recognition by passing cars, until it was just a pancake of blood and fur, or feathers.  This time however, it was a real cat like the one my family had at home. It must’ve just been killed recently because it was still in good shape, other than the fact that all its insides were on the outside. I remember looking at the guts which looked exactly like uncooked food… sausages and meat, perfectly intact.  I studied it carefully, noting that there wasn’t much blood, just a lot of organs. A lot more than you think would fit inside this cat’s body. So to boil it down, this miracle of Life, this spark of creation that God or Mother Nature or Zeus alone is capable of creating is nothing more than a bag of cold cuts. That may have been the first time that I realized that the food I eat is made out of dead animals, and that my insides probably look a lot like this, and that I’m probably food too. And that one day, one way or another, I’ gonna end up like this, in some form or another.
Much of my early teen years were spent walking around this area of town called “The Dumps”. It’s the area around Rikers Island jail, where again, people would just dump garbage that didn’t fit into their own trashcans. Old furniture, bathtubs, construction debris, dead pets, mattresses. You get the idea. It was a lot like what you would expect Calcutta to be like, except we explored and played in it for fun.
One time poking around down there, we found the corpse of a dead German Shepherd, maybe 3 or 4 years old. It was moving and making noise. We poked it, afraid that it might turn it’s head and snap, or maybe really was dead. But it was stiff. The 3 of us turned it over, and found the underside covered with hundreds of thousands of maggots and other bugs buzzing and eating their way to the top. That freaked me out , and further reinforced that idea that we are all just worm food. Bugs eating your corpse seems so less noble than vultures doing it.  

Thursday, November 15, 2012

Vice's writing as of late has been getting kinda sucky. Other than Cat Marnell, it's mediocre, "edgy" writing just for the sake of being Vice-like, if that makes any sense at all.   Anyway, I came across this essay by Francesca Brandelius that I really dug.

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Monday, August 20, 2012

Heaven 17


Heaven Seventeen.  

My sixteenth year was split in two directions.  In one corner I had my friend John, who was already 25 years old.  He was tall, with long stringy hair, he had his own apartment in my neighborhood, and he kept his Winstons and beer in the freezer.  I guess I can look back and admit to myself that he was my hero at the time.  He was everything I wanted to be: cool looking, smooth, and living on his own.   In the other corner was my virginity, which was one more hurdle I had to cross before I could be anything like John.
John always had girls at his house.  Once I visited him unexpectedly and was greeted at the door by him in a towel, standing right behind him a fine blonde girl also in a towel.  “We were just about to jump in the shower. Here’s the remote.” he told me.  Goddammit, he’s taking a shower with a girl, I thought as I heard giggles and murmurs drift with the steam from the bathroom.  It killed me that this type of stuff was going on around me, and I wasn’t part of it.
John was great because he’d always let me, and occasionally some other kids, come up to his house and drink beer, get high and watch TV.  Once when I was alone with him a few older girls stopped by.  After a bit of partying, one of them started flirting with me.
“You’re jailbait.  But it would be fun to break you in!” Felicia said to me, in front of John and her best friend Cathy. 
“Yeah, you think so? Let’s go take a shower!” is what I nervously managed to spit out. What was I thinking?
“Are you still a virgin?” Cathy asked me.
How could they tell? Do I not drink fast enough? Is it by the way I hold my cigarette? My zits?
“It’s all your horny energy!” John said, to everyone’s laughter.
Now my virginity was the topic of the conversation.  I didn’t really hear what was happening because I was thinking of my next move.  I could either pretend I was experienced, and miss a potential pity fuck from Felicia, or I can exploit this moment and win a pity fuck from Felicia.
“Ok, ok, I’m a virgin.  Are you happy now?”  I looked down and acted ashamed.
 In my head I felt John’s telepathic approval of my plan.
“Come on Felicia, why don’t you take him in my room?” said John, pouring a bit more Jack into her Coke.  Ahhh, he was right behind me.
“Get out of here, John” I said, choosing the coy guy role over the tough guy role. Who am I kidding?  I was petrified.  Cathy grabbed Felicia’s arm and said to her “Let’s go.  These guys just want to have an orgy with us.”  John chuckled as he took Felicia’s Jack and Coke and poured half into his glass, the remaining into mine. 
“When do you turn seventeen, Robert” Felicia asked me, as she put her arms around me and prepared to give me a good bye kiss.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw John standing very close to Cathy, softly caressing her ear, getting ready for his own good bye kiss.
Shit, my birthday isn’t until November, I thought.
“July 6th” I answered. 
“Wow, that’s next month.  Well, will you be here for John’s barbecue on the fourth?”
Hmmm, I didn’t know John was having a barbecue.
“Of course” I told her. 
“Good. Maybe I’ll have a special birthday present for you” she whispered to me, then lightly kissed me on the lips, for a split second longer than was necessary.
“Look at Robert blush!  He’s embarrassed!” John shouted out.  The girls laughed and left the apartment. Felicia smiled at me once more on the way out, and Cathy pinched my cheek.  Once they were out of the apartment John said to me “I heard you, you dog! July 6th…good one!”

“Dude you are going to owe me for this!  I’m gonna get you laid.”  John said, packing a bowl.
“I don’t know if I can. I’m kinda nervous. I’ve never done it before.” I confessed.  I felt so much better getting it out there, finally admitting it to the world.
“What’s there to be scared about? You got a pole, she’s got a hole!”
“I don’t know what to do. I mean what about pearl necklaces? What about facials?”
John shook his head as he gagged on the smoke.
“That’s for the more advanced lovers, like myself.  If I were you, I’d just stick to the ol’ “poke ‘n grind””.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“I think you can figure it out yourself”

Fourth of July weekend eventually came.  Felicia and Cathy came dressed in shorts and tight tops, looking super cute.  John was wearing a top hat and an American flag over his shoulders like a cape.  Some other friends of his were there as well, some with their children or dogs. There was music playing, food everywhere, and fireworks lit the sky.  I was nervous about the whole thing, and frankly, it wasn’t worth even thinking about what might or might not happen. I mingled, ate and drank as I cautiously avoided Felicia.  I think she was feeling nervous too, because she was always on the opposite side of the yard as me. So in an attempt to break the ice, I grabbed a couple of beers, sucked it in, and went over to her.
“Hey Felicia. Happy Fourth!” I said, giving her a kiss on the cheek and handing her a beer.
“Oh you’re so sweet” she answered.  There was a tension in the air.  I didn’t like this feeling.
“You know, I was drunk when I said that stuff to you last time I saw you.  I hope you weren’t expecting anything tonight” Felicia said.  That cock tease!  I felt so much better.  Time to recoup.
“No, I know you were joking.  Anyway, I’m not a virgin anymore.  I have a girlfriend now”
“Really?  That’s great.  You’re so nice. She’s such a lucky girl” Felicia threw her arms around me, probably feeling the same relief that I was.
 The rest of the evening was much more comfortable, as I talked to Felicia for a long time about my imaginary girlfriend and all the fun things we did together.
 Little by little, the guests left the barbecue until it was just Felicia and I sitting at the picnic table, and John and Cathy, with their feet in the inflatable Flintstones wading pool, and their arms around each other. For a second I even think I saw his hand up her shirt.
“Incoming!” yelled John, as he threw a spoonful of baked beans at us.  It landed all over me, and some of it on Felicia.
I was startled, and stood up, not knowing what to think or do or say.  I was pissed beyond words. I mean, here I am, having a pleasant conversation with this lovely girl who just rejected me, and he humiliates me in front of her.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, John?  You’re so immature.  You shouldn’t drink if you can’t handle it.” said Felicia as she wiped the beans off my neck with her right hand. Her left hand gently held my head back, her fingers in my hair.  In the moonlight and citronella candlelight haze I saw a bean cling to her beautiful Light Ash Brown Number 12 hair. 
“He doesn’t know how to act in public.” I said as I took the bean out of her hair and threw it at him.
“Big fucking deal you babies.  Go in the bathroom and wash it off” said John, with a cigarette dangling out of his mouth. Now he was looking at me like I was doing something wrong.
“Fucking ASSHOLE” screamed Felicia when she felt the sticky stuff in her hair. She grabbed me by the hand and led me to the bathroom. “Come on” she said.
As we passed John on the way in, he pinched his cigarette between his thumb and forefinger, and took a long, slow drag.  Then he slowly turned his head towards me and handed me two beers as he winked his eye.
I was slowly catching on.
Moments later, through the opaque bathroom window I could see the abstract shapes of John and Cathy celebrating the Fourth of July in the wading pool, while Felicia calmly took off her clothes and stepped into the shower.  Not sure if she wanted me in there, I turned to leave the bathroom, when she grabbed my shirt and with her other hand turned on the water.
“Is this too hot?” she asked, grabbing my hand and putting it under the warm water with hers.  She looked me straight in the eyes as if daring me… or as if she didn’t notice that she was naked in front of me.
“No, it’s perfect” I said as I took my shirt off in a daze.  I followed her lead and acted like this was the most normal thing in the world.
I was a bit confused, but I didn’t want to ask any questions. I waited for her to change her mind again, but she didn’t.  As coolly as possible, I removed my pants, then stepped back and watched her walk into the stream of water. God, she was beautiful.  I couldn’t believe this was happening to me. It was like I was playing a role in someone else’s life. Outside, we heard our friends upping the ante.
 We giggled and followed suit.
I wondered if she knew it wasn’t my birthday. Nah, it didn’t matter to either of us.

Monday, August 6, 2012

Oh No He Di-int!

Remember back in the days of childhood, when in the heat of a verbal battle, that deciding moment when you KNEW the friendship was OVER, when Fight or Flight was in full effect, and you were ready to throw down and shed blood,  the worst possible thing you could say to your opponent was "Cocksucker, mother fucker, two-ball bitch... every time I think of you, my two balls itch!" Or if you thought someone was putting on airs or walking around like he was Big Bout Ya, you'd say "You walk around like you're hot shit on a silver platter, but you're really just a cold turd in a Dixie cup!" The key to saying either of these with any effect at all was saying it like you just made it up. The first one is nearly impossible to say without falling into the rhythm of it, thus taking any serious threat out of it. The second one you can ONLY say with a disgusted, smug sneer. That must be why you will still hear people say it in boardrooms, bedrooms and back alleys all over the country, even today, and the former one is relegated to the dustbin of youth .

Why as adults are we so economically conservative with our insults? I blame our education system and fluoride in the drinking water. "Hey, FUG YOU!"

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Nice Try

I love these help wanted ads that I see on Mandy.com and other places that say things like "We can't pay you anything, but we have a ping pong table at the office!"  Something tells me that if they ain't gonna pay me, they ain't gonna let me play ping pong. It kind of reminds me of the time I was suckered into helping my friend paint his apartment, after telling me that although he wouldn't be able to pay me, there would be tons of beer and pizza, and that "it would be more of a party than anything.. an apartment painting party!"  When the day finally arrived, I was the only one at the "Apartment painting party", and then I found out I had to paint first, then I could have my pizza. My friend was no longer smiling either. Some party. 

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

Phunny

Catnip: Egress to Oblivion?


This is the kind of thing that makes me angry. Why? Because I wish I could come up with funny stuff like this, and then, actually DO IT.  Anyone who knows me knows I have sparks, but too often they fizzle. The latest one was a faux-emo joke-band called "As I Sit Here Broken Hearted", geared to dudes in their 40's who aren't really ready or willing to switch from "Docs to Dockers". It never really went anywhere. I did come up with a cool band logo though, and I may start selling merch soon.

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

I've Made A Decision

Lately I've been hemming and hawing about buying a pair of Clarks Wallabees.  All of a sudden, in their almost 200 year history, they are the hot new thing in footwear among those trying to be stylish, but outside the ranks.

I went through a similar fad back in the 80's with Doc Martens. Then in the 90's with Hush Puppies. But now in 2012 I'm calling bullshit. Yes, they last forever, but NOBODY buys them for that reason. I love when someone tries to front that they buy shoes nowadays because of their durability. If that were true, you'd be wearing wooden clogs, so step off. The reason I'm not buying in is simply this: They're fugly. Some dudes can pull it off. Some chicks can even look cute wearing them.  But if I were to wear them, I'd feel like that temp schlub that you see every day on the subway, the guy who tries to skirt the office dress policy in any way he can. He tries with black Reebok sneakers, he tries with a polo shirt, he even tries by wearing his leather MC jacket over the whole thing.  Cut it.

It also makes me think of one of the only two black kids in my Catholic high school. He wore British Knights shoes. He was so proud of them, and he would talk about them all the time. They looked like those shoes nurses wear. So in conclusion, I don't care if Wu Tang Clan wears them, I don't care if Paul Weller wears them. They look like potato shoes.