SCREW IT!!!!!!!!

My Girl

2012-02-12T08:08:00.000-08:00

There are no words. It goes without saying that Whitney Houston was one of the greatest inspirations for me as a singer, as I know she was to countless others. While I'm left speechless by the loss of her beauty, grace, and her voice, I want to weigh in on the loss of her character. The death of Amy Winehouse last year brought in a flood of judgements for the choices that she made over the course of her life. While it remains to be seen whether or not Whitney Houston will suffer the same abuse, there are reasons that artists fall prey to alcohol, drugs and choices that often seem to bewilder their fans.

I don't want to make excuses for anyone, but most people do not understand how difficult it is to perform in front of thousands of people daily, and to be exposed naked in the spotlight - your emotions, your soul, and your life is there for everyone to gawk at and to either applaud or jeer. That loneliness and vulnerability is their 9-5 job, which sets artists apart from those who live their lives at the desk, on clock. Everyday they are writing songs, confronting all the emotions they have felt in the breadth of their experience. So, their lives are not only under the microscope of others but under their own. Then, they take those songs and with every ounce of expression in their being, perform them for us. The desire to escape emotion, and to escape life becomes inevitable and powerful. It is a life lived in the front lines of a war with yourself.

Whitney Houston, one of the most iconic singers of our time, like many of her predecessors - Billie Holiday, Janis Joplin etc... Was no less of a person because she fell in that war where the scrutiny was unimaginable, the difficulty of living a life where every expression was always tied to her performance. And all of this life she lived with enormous grace for an often graceless public, poise and most of all love. I hope she has found a quiet place.

Burger King Jesus

2012-01-16T09:16:00.001-08:00

All of us remember the near trauma we experienced 3 years ago during the presidential campaigns. We were at each others throats, and I was desperate not to live in a world where Sarah Palin could pretend like she was in control of things. So, I did what any responsible citizen of this great democracy does: Scream at Christians. This election year, I don't care about Rick Perry, Rick Santorum or Ron Freaking Paul. I've decided that the best way to change the world is to make yourself visible and audible on a local level, which has me focused on one problem. It's huge.

I live next to the ugliest building in the world. It just so happens to be a church.

I've tried to rationalize the existence of this church, which was probably designed by a toymaker at Fisher Price. Notice the red, plastic logo of a heart with a bird inside, and the stained "glass" "window" which happens to be lit at night by an enormous fluorescent light underneath - all donated by Burger King. I have no explanation for this house of worship, except that perhaps Christians were starting to feel left out when gays were the only ones getting all that negative attention from Westboro Baptist Church, and wanted to create a reason for someone (like me) to picket their abhorrently sinful taste in architectural design. I think a pretty good case could be made that this church is an abomination to the community, literally spawning the homicides that take place at my front door, much the same way my faggotry is an abomination to America and is plunging the country into the darkness of God's wrath and punishment....

I think I need to get out of this part of Brooklyn before I start contributing to all the screaming.

Alcohol and Nonsense

2011-01-04T17:44:00.000-08:00

A customer came into the restaurant awhile ago reeking of alcohol and nonsense, but because I'm a good waiter, I decided to be friendly with him. He called me over to his table from the other side of the restaurant in the manner I most prefer to be summoned: hand raised high in the air like a 1st grader eager to answer his first question in class. 7am and I love my job. In a strange but not altogether surprising way (since he was inebriated) he asked me to tell him what I thought love was. Normally, I would have given him my Disney face and said, "Love is great. JUST SO GREAT. It's a fairy tale that everyone wants and needs." I think because it was 7am and, you know, I was LOVING my job, I felt like starting off my day with a more meaningful answer, so I told him I would get back to him. After a few moments, I found my answer: "Love is the happiest and most wonderful poison you will ever drink."

It seems like a cynical answer, but I promise I'm not saying that love isn't happy, or that we shouldn't want that fairy tale, because it's all those things. I'm remembering a time when I hadn't tasted the poison and I didn't realize what would happen when I stopped drinking it, either because it was taken from me or it was too much and I had to stop . I hadn't had a boyfriend yet and you couldn't tell me to be cautious about love because I would charge into it like I was invincible. It's different now, and life is different because I know how powerful that poison is; how much it can weaken you. So do I keep drinking, like Mr. Nonsense - Invincible at 7am? Do I drink cautiously, or do I abstain and pretend I'm smarter than the guy I'm serving at my table.

That's all.

Round Here

2010-02-16T21:50:00.001-08:00

Step out the front door like a ghost into the fog where no one notices the contrast of white on white. And in between the moon and you the angels get a better view of the crumbling difference between wrong and right.

I have had the opening of this song in my head for the last several days. This is just beautiful writing. That's all.

Sing Jaiden!

2010-02-11T20:54:00.000-08:00

One of the first artists I came across when I moved the city has done some background singing for Alicia Keys and other noted pop artists. I attended his show at a really cool spot called S.O.B's for their Soul Village night. Totally blown away by his control:

And, what he's doing more recently.... Coincidentally, much of this video was filmed in Ft. Greene, Brooklyn where I live.

Anything you can do, I can do better.

2010-02-11T17:55:00.000-08:00

Some people have road rage. I take that one step further. I have walk rage. I am mentally incapable of following you at YOUR chosen speed. You can imagine that this makes me look a more than just a little ridiculous in a city of about 9 million people. Half of whom are walking at a "normal" 5 miles per hour, the rest of whom are either being pushed in strollers, or should be. All of whom, have become extremely LAZY. I assumed before I moved to New York that I would be sharing the sidewalks with millions of other power walkers. Sadly, I was mistaken and sorely disappointed. I have, to my enormous chagrin, been obliged on many occasions to let my fellow New Yorkers know that we are not in Antarctica, as I quickly pass them to avoid getting shot.

Now, although I have to admit that it's a lot sexier to drive a car in such a way that you will kill both yourself and thousands of potential victims - I guarantee that the feeling of your body swerving in and out of traffic on the sidewalk is exactly the same, and that it is both cheaper and just as sexy when you realize that you can incorporate this rage in your latest dietary regimen. The only thing you may not want to think about is how stupid it looks to other people to see you walk, hair-arms-flying at 50 miles per hour through Soho. Nevermind them. They are stupid for walking at the pace that society sets for ordinary individuals, and slow to take action in life. Hence, their small dreams and nice, boring, mediocre realities.

Let me convince you that, you too, have walk rage. You are walking up a sidewalk towards an intersection, where you will make a left turn. You spot him. Crossing the street, coming towards you and about to join you on the sidewalk where you will make your left turn. You have, with acute precision, assessed that he is walking at the exact same speed, and, unless you speed up, this LOSER of a human being will be walking right next to you on the sidewalk. This needs to be prevented because you, your smartphone of choice (most likely an iPhone), and the bubble of perfection which protects that space cannot be interrupted. Not to mention how awkward it is to walk in step with someone you don't know. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

You immediately alter your speed so as to avoid the infamous side-by-side encounter. Those are the beginning signs of walk rage.

These were the dreams that I had for New York. A trampling rage of crazies in a pen of big dreams. People who don't just put a suit on everyday, walk the same pace, and accept that 100K per year is all you're meant to strive for. Or, that the only thing you're meant to produce is a screaming baby. Or, the only thing you're meant be hungry for is your next meal at some charming, five-star restaurant in the oh-so-trendy Village. No. We New Yorkers walk faster. I hope the recession hasn't taken that, too.

Something I would Say.

2009-10-19T15:35:00.000-07:00

"(419): dude you apologized to her after she called you stupid. you were like "no i'm sorry, you shouldn't have to be around stupid people, it's my fault"

(nervous laugh)

Breakdown

2009-09-14T21:00:00.000-07:00

This song does weird things to my eyes...

Sara Bareilles, you and I will be good friends.

Sweet Dreams

2009-08-25T08:07:00.001-07:00

It's been awhile since the album came out now, but I am loving this song. I might be one of the few people to say (sacrilegiously) that this album didn't do much for me.

Maybe it's just how the video begins with the reverse photography reminding me a little of Michael Jackson, and when she goes into the bridge, "My guilty pleasure I ain't goin nowhere..." she breaks down into a dance that you didn't expect.

Singing is effortless for this mama, because her technique is perfect. She's never screaming, which maybe is why I'm always slightly disappointed. That being said, I'm willing to bet that her voice will outlast most of the pop divas that are out there now. *coughsKellyClarkson*

Home Sweet Home

2009-08-22T16:21:00.001-07:00

So, I decided this week that God was telling me that I should live in Harlem and not Brooklyn. It takes 3 signs from God for me to decide anything in life, including what I'm going to decide to eat on a restaurant menu, which you can imagine, makes me a real favorite on dates.

My first sign.

My second sign came with a little research.

View Larger Map
Coincidentally, this was really close to where I was looking for a place. I mean, it had to be, at most, 15 subway stops away - which REALLY is right around the corner in New York.

My third sign left me feeling sublimely happy in Harlem: There was block party in my honor today when I came home. All the children were dancing to my hip-hop songs, and using all the moves I use in the club. Of course, all the guys were dressed like me with my dirty white t-shirt, my baggy bootcuts, and sexy scruff. I mingled with the natives, shared my rum and stories about how I met God in the wilderness, and we all lived happily ever after.

Oblivious to the shootings going on right around the corner.

Yikes

2009-08-16T09:15:00.000-07:00

There are times when even I get a little starry eyed.

Hi.

My name is Ass... I MEAN stupid, I mean Ash.

I'll go now.

PennDot smokes Pot

2009-07-23T09:18:00.000-07:00

I'm going to diverge ever so slightly from my aim this month of posting a picture everyday, because frankly, I've already succeeded in making the necessary arrangements to move to NYC SUCKAS!! It might seem silly, but I'm REALLY excited to move to NYC to escape from a little organization called PennDot.

This band of losers are responsible for making my life in Pittsburgh a nightmare you can't possibly imagine. Not only is there ALWAYS a new road being patched up (notice how I didn't say "fixed"), but they ALWAYS choose to work on that road during the busiest traffic hours of the day making sure that 15 miles of traffic is bottle-necked for a hole in the road 2 feet long. I think any competent group of people handling transportation would have guessed that most roads are under construction at night so that thousands of people who work during the day don't find themselves an hour and a half late for work, or an interview, or dinner, or a date, or a physical, or a MARGARITA.

My second rant against this worthless organization is how traffic lights are synchronized. Besides the usual screaming insanity that repeated stopping and going causes me, I'm pretty sure that a left hand turning signal at a fairly busy intersection should last more than 3 seconds, but apparently someone at PennDot thinks it's efficient to wait at an intersection through 3 red lights before you can make that left turn. Don't get me started on the lack of left turning lanes in HOLESBurgh.

While I could go on, the truth is, despite all the screaming, the shear lack of opportunity for gypsies like me, the painful ignorance and backward thinking embraced by 95% of its inhabitants, the racial segregation written all over its map, the inability for anything really meaningful to get done in its beautiful woods and hills, and all the domestic abuse taking place in plain sight on Carson St. in the Southside...

I will miss my little Pittsburgh: My little hole in the road.

Dream Big

2009-07-16T11:40:00.000-07:00

Harlem, NYC.

This is where I'll be moving in August, and almost the exact same rooftop view I had when I went to visit. It isn't much to look at, but it might as well be my own little stairway to heaven. It was here where I told one of my buddies that my life had become like the song, "Stop and Stare" by One Republic; that I felt like my life was becoming a broken record, forever saying that I wanted to move out of Pittsburgh but always seeing myself in the same place. Moreover, I felt that my dreams were slipping out of my fingers and I could only pray that it wasn't too late.

I'll be happy when I'm there on that rooftop.

I also pray there aren't any copyright infringement laws associated with me posting this photo.

Dawn

2009-07-15T11:14:00.000-07:00

You took something perfect and painted it red...

Union Square

2009-07-14T10:30:00.000-07:00

One way ticket: bought. Living arrangements: acquired. So far, this new age stuff is working.

Union Square.

AND... What is Gandhi doing in NYC?

Oh yeah. New Yorkers are DYING to have me in their city.

Until the Bitter End

2009-07-13T19:47:00.000-07:00

This appears to be a little hole on the outside. Like hundreds of other bars, shops, restaurants and live music venues in NYC, it's not much to look at, BUT, many famous musicians performed and got started here: Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, Nina Simone, and my favorite Donny Hathaway...

And this is what I think I love about NYC. I'm not sure yet, but my idea of New York is that it's just this giant mess that somehow became attractive. It's kinda dirty, disheveled and not really sure of itself, but if you look hard enough it has something to tell you about yourself - and if you work hard enough it has something to offer you.

I want to find myself in this hole.

Yoga to the People, East Village, NY, NY

2009-07-12T12:30:00.000-07:00

A memorable visit to New York found me doing yoga, and I know what you're thinking, yoga is NOT something to write about anymore, but add a female instructor who is really a dominatrix in disguise and now you have something a little more interesting. I never really got into yoga until the Yoga Bitch made me sweat lakes of perspiration onto the hardwood floor. She was obviously foreign... they ALL are. She obviously knew NOTHING about my people and the thousands of years it took to develop yoga. No one does OR cares. Maybe it was just the music, not to mention the overall exhaustion of being beaten until I wanted to die, but I began to cry a little at the end as we were heaving; lying prostrate on the floor before her. Yoga Bitch Goddess accepted my tears as an offering and chose to read a poem about love. I can't remember a thing of what she said. That is what life is going to be like for me in New York.

Beaten until I am inches from death. Then, the inspiration will come. 20 days. I can feel it already.

3,2,1

2009-07-11T12:35:00.000-07:00

Top of the world.

3 Weeks.

22 Days til BARF!

2009-07-10T19:00:00.000-07:00

Admittedly, not EVERYTHING will be rainbows and butterflies.

Stinky, crowded subways.

Angry people who hate their lives everywhere.

Or, just burnt out.

Will You Be There

2009-07-10T08:44:00.000-07:00

I know we're all sick of hearing about it which is obviously why I'm joining the chorus of people who insist on belaboring the subject. I was watching the Memorial for MJ and Jennifer Hudson came up to perform one of my favorite songs, "Will You Be There". I was magically transported to hell as I remembered my first years of high school: Friendless, Clueless, and seriously lacking in "Cool". This song played to a nightmarish backdrop of Phys. Ed. Class when I was laughed at mercilessly in the outfield not only by my classmates, but by my P.E. teacher. And it played so comfortingly during my junior year prom as I danced awkwardly with a girl I liked as she tried very hard not to look at me. I was Michael Jackson in high school. The freak; the little boy full of joy.

Fast Forward. It was my freshman year of college, and there was a little talent show for the newcomers. I must have felt an enormous need to relive high school with 10 times the rejection when I chose to lip sync "Will You Be There" into a mic and dance awkwardly on stage. I got up on stage, just me in the most uncool tee and jeans. The music wasn't playing. Desperate to not look awkward, I did the only thing I knew how to do: Look stupid. I ran to the edge of the stage curtain and hid - popping the top of my head out to peek at the audience. Of course, they laughed. Finally, the music began playing. It was just me up there as I tried to emote the song with the grandiose sincerity of a drag queen. I wondered how uncomfortable they must have been, except 2 or 3 minutes into the song someone yelled in the audience, "Hey! This kid has a good voice!" I had been singing quietly through the mic the whole time. My new comrades loved it. They actually loved it so much that I made friends... even got on the homecoming court.

I read something somewhere I don't care to go searching for saying, "When did this business of growing up begin and how do we make it stop." In retrospect, I don't know if I would do a performance like that as unhesitatingly or with as much passion and vulnerability as I did then. Something creeps in as I "grow up". I care too much about what other people think... maybe because I see that awkward little guy on the baseball field and I get scared, so the music begins to fade from the background. I turn down the volume to avoid being different.

Why do people want to grow up so much anyway?

23 Days Until I Blow that Tiny Sailboat Out of the Water

2009-07-09T20:31:00.000-07:00

The Christopher Street Pier

I probably could have picked a more picturesque pier. Someone went a little crazy with photo shop and thought it would be nice to market the pier as a journey through time, all the way back to the Dark Ages with the little 18th century sailboat in the background. Or, I mean it might be real, I suppose. Despite that, I can't picture a more comforting sight than to see gay couples feeling at ease with one another and with themselves. And while you can probably do that anywhere in New York except maybe 89% of it, that's still more people than there are in places like Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania or God forbid Abilene, Texas. Anyway, this pier represents how amazing it is to find a refuge when you've grown up gay in an even mildly homophobic or ignorant culture. A place where you can hold his/her hand as long as you like and no one will care, and if they do it's because they don't like PDA - not you. Disgusting...

Once you go to a place like this, you never want to go back home.

24 Days to a New Journey

2009-07-08T01:23:00.000-07:00

Sometimes you get random tips, or bits of wisdom from the oddest people and/or the most bizarre places. I have tried to become more open to these voices recently. For instance, when I am terrified in a public restroom amidst grunts and rancid smells, or when I am in line at a grocery/clothing store and looking down at the floor to keep from making faces at the people ahead of me, or in this instance, misfortuned enough to be stuck listening to people at a bar who talk way too much and really are saying so little. I finally managed to become part of the conversation when he asked me what I was doing with my summer. When I told him that I was moving to NYC in a month, he started on a rant which actually became relevant to my life - which was why I was supposed to be there in the first place.

He told me that he was at the end of his rope, just getting out of a torrid relationship and virtually penniless when he moved to New York to start a new life; a new journey. I was captivated, since suicide attempts and depression always make life more interesting...... as long as you don't act on it, OF COURSE. *nervous laugh

He went to the Metropolitan Museum where he found a statue of the hindu god Ganesh, who is the god of success and learning - the "remover of obstacles" as defined in Old Webbie. Behind the statue, spare change had been thrown by people hoping for some good luck on their journey. BarmanwhosenameIcan'tremember wasn't a hindu but said to himself that someone must believe in this stuff and it couldn't hurt to pray for some good luck himself. Since that day, he testifies that his life began an upswing, which I can't remember either since his new good fortune was totally irrelevant to me.

In 24 days, I see myself standing here....

questioning whether Jesus will be mad at me for talking to an elephant.

25 Days Until the Naked Cowboy

2009-07-07T06:49:00.000-07:00

Obviously. How much do you think this guy actually gets laid? I might be willing to wager that this guy gets all of his sexual needs met by showing himself off day after day after day. Do I look forward to seeing this in 25 days? Not particularly. Methinks New Yorkers are antsy to see a small half-indian man named Ash dressed in nothing but a dhoti parade around Times Square...

Ash takes on the Big APPLE! 26 days left!

2009-07-06T08:49:00.000-07:00

I heard some New Age rubbish that said that visualization is key to materializing what someone wants. All I know is that I'm bout to visualize myself singing in Whitney Houston's place when she finally takes the stage again this fall to promote her new album. To test this theory, I'm going to have a little countdown marking my departure date to the Big Apple on August 1st. Each day of my countdown, I will find a random picture of New York that I like and post it on my blog. For all the haters who think I won't make it, I've already given notice at work, so I am officially unemployed 8/01. If I make it, the theory works. If I don't, I just look like an a@#. Ready, GO!

The Brooklyn Heights Promenade. The walk I've wanted to make every time I have visited the city, and the first thing I will do when I'm there - Just Ash, a baguette, cheese, olives and a bottle of red wine.

Before the Music Dies

2009-07-06T08:32:00.000-07:00

One of the best documentaries I have seen so far about the music business and why I look forward to being a ghetto superstar.

What the hell happened to embedding?! C'mon, Youtube!

A Toast

2009-06-30T10:08:00.000-07:00

To continue in a long line of boring tributes and horribly exaggerated epitaphs that are beginning to define what was supposed to be the greatest summer of my life, I just wanted to pay tribute to a special, but unlikely hero. Someone who keeps it real when you're too afraid to admit that you're actually a slut with a serious drinking problem. Someone who inspires me daily, and fills my heart with warmth and sunshine. A diva, and a saint.

May I present.... Roger.

I will miss you when you are gone.

WORD

2009-06-24T20:00:00.000-07:00

"You know, some people say life is short and that you could get hit by a bus at any moment and that you have to live each day like it's your last. Bullshit. Life is long. You're probably not gonna get hit by a bus. And you're gonna have to live with the choices you make for the next fifty years."

-Chris Rock

Ha!

A Simple Thought, A Surprisingly Difficult Conversation

2009-06-24T19:25:00.000-07:00

“There is a lot of confusion in the gay world about what it means to be Christian and there is a lot of confusion in the Church about what it means to be gay,” one young man says in the GCN video. “There is so much confusion that no one has stopped and said, ‘Why don’t we ask them?’”

Grove City College

2009-05-20T09:38:00.000-07:00

I made the slightest 19 paragraph addition to this post as I don't think I adequately expressed the horror of my experience at Grove City College and the really bad taste it has left in my mouth ever since.

I remember it like it was only yesterday. I was taking a January term class and I had the privelege of rooming with one of God's elect. One of the few. I just remember feeling blessed to have a friend in those cold times; in such a cold place. I had transferred to the school confused about my life's direction and its future and Grove City seemed like the perfect place to launch my career to superstardom. As it turned out, Grove City had other lessons to teach me. My brother in Jesus and I went to our 3 hour long classes and attempted to stay on top of a 3 credit course load crammed into 3 short weeks. We then made the commute from God's holy hill out into the barren wilderness 45 minutes away. Our diet consisted of a daily bread of macaroni and cheese, hot dogs, and jalapeno peppers. My diet consisted of no food and lots of masturbation for warmth.

One particularly gray day when my spirit was feeling one with God and all mankind, my brother in Jesus and I began our commute back home from class, and I noticed in front of us a car which contained a sticker claiming the driver was a buddhist. The transport also claimed that the person was a Grove City student. I was overjoyed to be in the vicinity of some socio-ethnic diversity thanks to the small number of non-whites at the school, and expressed my excitement to my brother in Jesus, "this is so great! A Buddhist... at our school!" He was not equally pleased. He made a point to rebuke me for being happy of the driver's inferior and false faith.

I found it increasingly difficult in the following weeks to masturbate as the warmth of my soul, once so warm with God, was evaporating in the wilderness. The trees were covered with an impenetrable skin of ice which would never melt. I found Grove City and its inhabitants to be a tough, hearty (at times) but cold people. Apparently, it was not only wrong to be buddhist - it was also wrong to be gay. An intensely one-sided and brief debate during class helped convince me that next time I want to raise my hand and tell people that, "maybe it's just who they are" I should remember to bring a target board to hang over my man parts. I continued my long journey on God's holy hill without God. Alone. Longing to find a warmth which I would never find - as even masturbation proved to be against God's plan.

I was starting to wonder if my journey to the heights of glory and fame was really just a suicidal mission to the top of Mt. Everest without clothes. The last vestiges of oxygen were quickly leaving me in Sociology 101 where one professor, who shall remain nameless - until I finish a compassionate letter I'm writing to the school board about his teaching methods - made it a point to tell us exactly what God's plan was for us. He showed us a wonderful video of happy gay couples getting married. I wiped the tears from my eyes as he closed the projector screen. I had found a true friend. Before I could go up after class and give my new savior the biggest, warmest hug, he made sure the class knew that gay sex was akin to having "dog shit" rubbed on your genitals totally silencing the room with the unshakable conviction that somewhere on campus there was a gay and he was the devil. I watched the professor in horror as class was dismissed, and probably stayed in that position a good 12 hours after everyone left.

I have deeply considered trying to elaborate on something positive about this place, because I am not a combative person by nature. People there were very smart, hard-working, generally nice, so maybe it wasn't so bad right? Except. Grove City College was a bubble - and if you placed someone from outside the mold into that bubble, people didn't know what to do with you, and you were ostracized, and isolated. A few of my friends underwent some real persecution there, death threats included, so if my light and facetious manner seems out of place, it is. I hardly think sunshine is appropriate where blackholes should reside. I had it easy in comparison to most.

So, in memory of this school, I'd like to take a moment of silence to commemorate all those students who to this day do not live up to her standards:

Non-christians, non-orthodox reformed presbyterian christians, catholics, buddhists, hindus, artists, students with less than a 3.0 GPA, jews (unless they are for Jesus), GLBT's, liberals, agnostics, philosophers (or ANYONE who asks questions for that matter), social drinkers, communists, democrats, anyone not in favor of the war in Iraq, people who have touched anything so much as a hand non-platonically, sexually active persons, women who don't want to get married by sophomore year of college, anyone veering away from "family values" as defined by focus on the family, feminists, Goths, black people (there were so few there, any black applicants must have taken one look at the campus and said oh, hell no) muslims, anyone not for a global free market... asians, except for a few chinese and korean exchange students we might want for a little diversity and competition. Just to name a few.

We proclaim her motto proudly, "Grove City College: Where your best hasn't been good enough since 1872."

If you or someone you love is considering Grove City College in their future, don't hesitate to call us for help: 1 800 HELL NO. Once again that number is:

1 800 HELL NO

Little Coeliac and the Big Bad Fungus Cheese

2009-05-07T14:58:00.000-07:00

If you really want to know - and I KNOW YOU DO - what my pet peeve is as a waiter, it is when on their night of indulgent corpulence, customers want to completely rearrange the ingredients in the entrees to suit their "allergies". The instinct might be considered a maternal one, and it goes something like this, "You'll eat it or you won't leave the dinner table. The answer I would love to hear is, "Yes, Mama Ash."

You learn to have a sense of humor about people when they are hungry, because they do some crazy things - like go to an indian restaurant when they have nut allergies knowing that indian cuisine uses nuts heavily as a base in many of the dishes. Of course, I'm not sure the chef found this so humorous since he enjoyed spitting in their food. Was I going to stop him? I could see why a drunk chef who takes pride in his cuisine would be a little offended if some guy randomly decided that it's okay to have nut allergies.

The truth is, I don't believe half the people who say they have allergies. The new one is the wheat allergy fad. I don't believe it for one second and here is why.

This is my impression of Americans and let me compare it with a heartwarming tale of my own suffering. One of my pastors, back in the day when I hung out with such holy folk, had a 5 year old brat he liked to call his son. The little monster had a steady diet of hamburger without the beef, only the bun, cheese, pickles and ketchup. Mr. Pastor loved his little boy so much that he had to get this for him almost every meal lest his little fucker throw the biggest tantrum I had ever seen in an infant so seemingly cute. Then he used to tell me how afraid he was that his son would get fat. Oh, if he only knew that would be the least of that child's problems. No, later in life that little fucker will sit at my table earnestly claiming to have coeliac disease when all he REALLY has is a tendency to freak out, convulse on the floor and scream bloody murder when he doesn't get his way also known as demon possession.

I was a young boy once, on the swings in a country schoolyard in France all alone watching the other children play gleefully while I plotted to destroy their meaningless lives when the schoolboard decided to interrupt me in the middle of one of my rare sing-song moments. They were concerned that I was not eating any of the food provided at the cantine which consisted of the most horrible foods known to children everywhere - spinach puree, baked fish with the head and scales still on, moldy cheese, and a glass of arsenic to make the teachers job easier. I remember so vividly them asking me, perhaps out of pure morbid curiosity, what it was that I did eat. I responded in my usual dull, apathetic but slightly murderous tone that I liked rice. I think they must have threatened my mother and father because I received swift justice to my posterior for the next several years until I finally began to eat. Anorexia had been my only option for awhile. There was no McDonalds in France at the time. Only spinach a la blue cheese. To my complete surprise I grew to like the taste of poison that year.

My point being, humans are adaptable creatures and if you're going to have an allergy you might not want to bring it to my restaurant as I most certainly will decide that you should be reminded what a little fucker you REALLY are.

Oh Happy Day!

2009-05-06T10:15:00.000-07:00

"I have come to believe that this is a question of fairness and of equal protection under the law, and that a civil union is not equal to civil marriage. This new law does not force any religion to recognize a marriage that falls outside of its beliefs. It does not require the church to perform any ceremony with which it disagrees. Instead, it reaffirms the separation of church and state. It guarantees that Maine citizens will be treated equally under Maine’s civil marriage laws, and that is the responsibility of government."

- Statement made by Maine Governor Baldacci at the signing of the gay marriage bill.

I think this is going to be a great year! I also wish I could get all the Christians who oppose these measures in a room, and get a show of hands for how many of them mistakenly believe that we're trying to storm their churches for a ceremony. That's probably what they think, isn't it?

Wait... Didn't you kick us out?

An Evil Plot to Destroy the World

2009-04-03T10:25:00.001-07:00

I don't know what Christmas was like in your family - but during the course of the year, I would make a list of all the things that I wanted for Christmas. Inevitably, around November, when my mom and dad started asking what it was that my sisters and I wanted, I had lost the list and apparently my memory too. So, I just MIGHT have received one of the things I REALLY wanted from that list totally ruining my Christmas Season. Two things are going through your head right now:

"I feel SO sorry for you! You only got one thing you REALLY wanted. Think of all the starving children in Africa without Parents!" No doubt, you're also thinking.

"WTF - it's April??"

Hang on I'm getting to that.

This Lenten season, I really did want to give something up to show my sincere love for other people's approval. True to form, I just couldn't think of all the plethora of sins that I had been recording over the course of the year. Just slipped my mind, I suppose.

However, just this week, like a flock of angels come to my salvation, I realized what I can do without for awhile as this Lenten season is now coming to a close. The revelation came to me from an ad on television for an infamous website that has been sucking my life away for the last several months - I don't even want to count the number of hours I have spent on this website.

It REALLY IS an evil plot to destroy the world, as the TV commercial brazenly admits. How can they be so shameless?! How is it that a free website where you can download numberless episodes of my favorite TV shows needs to advertise itself? It's horrific. Why is it necessary for people to have access to all the shows they want, whenever they want? It's like media fast-food. Most importantly. Why is this website not repenting for wasting my precious time, and the precious time of millions of people. No. FOX has gone too far.

My friends. I believe in my heart that Hulu is a sin for which I need to repent and I shall do so for the remainder of the Lenten season. Approximately 9 days of earnest prayer for my soul and yours. It shall be a long, hard road.

Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire

2009-04-02T06:45:00.001-07:00

There are so many movies that I didn't get to see last winter, mostly because going to the movie theater has become so expensive. I wanted to see "Doubt", I wanted to see "Milk" - I wanted to watch Zac Efron pretend to be straight. SPEAKING OF PRETENDING.

FINALLY, I saw "Milk" a couple weeks ago. It's about time.

I heard some mixed reviews, but I had a feeling that I would love it since it is MY STORY. It was encouraging to me to see someone, someone who wasn't such an obvious politician, stand up to society and say, "This is our lives." It's even more encouraging, coming from a Christian perspective, to see how the religious right of our country can act so Anti-Christian. Then, there was James Franco.

I just have to say: it might be morally wrong to take straight guys who are this attractive and make them gay. I'm just sayin'. I haven't checked with God, but the feelings I experienced were something similar to when Will Farrell in the "Elf" realizes that the Santa Clause at the department store isn't REALLY Santa.

My Daily Brawl

2009-03-25T05:35:00.000-07:00

Have you ever turned on the radio to the Christian station, or changed the channel on TV to the 700 club - just so that you can get angry. That was me today. This post by Mr. Rod was written in reference to another post I had found through the Daily Dish. Then, it occurs to me - what will life look like when gays no longer have to fight for this? How boring life will be when we don't have to fight for it anymore.

I grow a little tired of certain recurring reactions that I notice among social conservatives. It has become common to express irritation when the issue of homosexuality is even brought up as though gay people had a dirty little secret and are trying to infect the world with it. The reaction is to "Hear no Evil." This, it seems is the reaction you are expressing in your post. To be fair, I don't think fixation was the appropriate word for Linker to use in reference to your blog. The question that is more pressing is what it is about homosexuality, given the myriad divergences you take with the church, that actually causes you to defer to its authority.

I think the gay community understands this reaction on the part of conservatives to be a stalemate. You can't give us any constitutional reason that we should not be left alone with our beliefs and opinions to guide us, and to pursue the love that we feel, so you are going to ignore us to death in the hopes that we'll go away. But we'll only get louder, and the movement will enclose you until you acknowledge this is our lives, not a fixation.

After I wrote this, I felt excited. I'm excited to be gay at this moment in history. I'm excited because I know that we're right, and there are precious few moments in life when one can feel so resolutely that they are already the victors - that we stand on the right side of history, and the right side of logic. I'm excited because I know that I'm a humble enough person to know when I'm wrong, and that there are areas in my life where I am still wrong, but this isn't one of them. I know that there are ways that the gay community is wrong, and needs to change, but this isn't one of them.

I don't believe rightness is given in a book, or with knowledge, or power. I don't believe that rightness is given to people in a party affiliation, or creed. I don't believe rightness is given in success, or money though this certainly gives people certain advantages. I don't even believe that rightness is given by God, because God's people can use Him as a weapon against those who are thought to be godless. I believe that rightness is given to the oppressed, and gay people today are being oppressed.

SENIORITIS

2009-03-24T07:39:00.000-07:00

I don't care much for old people. Let me rephrase that. I'm terrified of old people. So many of them are miserable, and old and MEAN. and OLD - except MAYBE if they're your relatives which means you'll get a healthy dose of candy and a nice throbbing pain in your jowl every visit. I just feel like they either want to talk your ear off, or they want to express their deep and abiding hatred for your generation. I understand that it's probably because they're not as virile anymore, and countless nights lusting after our beauty and youth is frustrating. It must take an enormous reserve of strength to be old, and for that I have a certain distant admiration for them. I'm not looking forward to it, though I have promised myself when it happens that I'm going to be the sweetest old man that ever lived EVEN if I am a hunchback with spider veins and missing teeth.

There HAVE been a few old people in my life who have made me feel profoundly special - and that's what it's all about, isn't it? MY feelings of worth and happiness.

One of those old people has walked passed me on my way to work twice now. She wears a scarf over her head, the same long coat, and walks with a cane. I don't know who she is, but she always says, "God bless you, honey. Have a wonderful day." And she always says it like she knows me - with so much compassion. Y'all know lately I haven't been so down with the G-O-D, but this small act of kindness felt truly extraordinary, and I am obliged to give her the biggest smile when I see her. Next time, I will ask her name and make her my surrogate grandmother. That is, unless she lives in a gingerbread house.

Idol Breaker

2009-03-18T08:34:00.000-07:00

IN the beginning, American Idol Season 8 was worthless. It was chaos. Parents fawning over their talentless children, DioGuardia turning the competition into a recital (and basically just being boring) , Paula looking like a robot who always sounds like it's crying, Seacrest sounding contrived and corny, and the song
choices...Oye! The song choices. I watched in horror as the show that used to mean something became a total waste of time. Poor Simon - this season, you can actually sense that he is asking himself why he is still doing this - of course, only to quickly remember that it makes him millions of dollars per year.

And then there were 11 contestants. I regretfully turned the T.V. on again last
night, fully realizing that I was addicted to the worst show on earth and something happened. That something was Anoop Desai - who single-handedly made the show interesting again. I gotta give some love to a brother. A real indian brother. I have a new idol.

Will Anoop make it to the Top 3, though?

Everyone seems to fit neatly into their own little niche of mediocrity this season. Lil' Rounds and Alexis Grace are disappointing at best so I don't see much hope for the ladies. That being said, my newfound love for Anoop Desai has made this season more interesting.

So here is my line up for the top 5 so far and a little about why:

1. Danny Gokey - The Old Faithful this season. There's just something about him. He takes every song and makes it his, and he's a good showman with soulful vocals - and annoyingly, I have to say he just looks like he's going to fit in the billboard of previous American Idol winners.

2. Kris Allen - Never underestimate the power of adolescent female histeria. This one is going far not so much because of his vocals, but his look and appeal. Little girls will stop at nothing. Kris and Anoop fit roughly in the same category, but the reason Kris takes the cake is that Kris seems to have taken more artistic license with his songs so far. Anoop has only shown us a few great vocals. Kris's challenge will be to give a little more edge to his vocals and allow his guitar arrangements to show through a little more.

3. Adam Lambert - This one is a wild card. His vocal technique is better than anyone on the show, but he is totally weird so he could go at anytime. On the other hand, he's fresh and different from any other idol contestant they've ever had, AND idol fans seem to love him. His challenge will be to connect emotionally with the audience.

4. Lil' Rounds - I think she will comeback. It was country week. She was bound to fail. As long as she can show us some Mary J., she'll be fine.

5. Anoop Desai - Sanjaya's Revenge. Since last night, his comeback potential has gone up so I have to put him in the top 5. His challenge will be to stop picking songs that are either so boring that his voice doesn't get noticed, or so out of his league that his voice doesn't get noticed. He has an exaggerated opinion of himself. I know. He's Indian. I KNOW. Also, he needs to prove himself as an artist or he won't win.

Before Night Falls

2009-03-17T07:47:00.000-07:00

I had to give a shout out to this fantastic film, which chronicles the life of the gay Cuban writer, Reinaldo Areinas. The film is based on his autobiography of the same title. Areinas gives an eye-opening view of the gay culture in Cuba during the Communist Revolution. (All of these wonderful insights into Communism are coming, appropriately, right before I leave for China... I might die).

Little did I know, that as political power began to shift in Cuba, Castro staged a cultural war against artists and gays sending many of them to concentration camps to be tortured for their work, which was considered hostile to the Revolution. At some points, you may find yourself cringing at some minor similarities between the ideological oppression of Communism and the ideological oppression of fundamentalist Christianity in America. However, the film is about so much more than the Gays. It gives artists such as myself some insight into that which is most valuable about us: That we spend our lives pursuing and creating beauty is the mark of a totally free, unfettered human being and a truly free society. There are a couple of small cameos by Sean Penn and none other than Johnny Depp. Notwithstanding, I doubt you will ever want to see the film again thanks to its heavy doses of tragedy and hardship, but I think the film will inspire you to create what is only yours to create.

The Quest for a Diva

2009-03-11T09:38:00.001-07:00

I really love Whitney Houston. Everyone knows, but not everyone understands. I have been holding out hope for this woman since I was in high school. I think I even remember my mom and I praying to Jesus over dinner that she would get rid of that Bozo Bobby, and leave her life entrenched in codependency and cocaine. But it's been over 2 years now since Clyde Douchebag Davis said that she was coming back with an album that would reestablish her limelight. I get tired of Clyde. He's so full of s#$% - blaming the "creative" process for the delays, which really just means that they've tried to chain Whitney to the studio, but the she's using again - and Bozo is possibly back.

I've had a couple love relationships in my life. Whitney Houston - she's dying if not already dead to me. Lauryn Hill. That was mostly sexual, though. It never would have worked with her neuroticism. Mariah. That was before she chose money in Tommy Mottola. I knew that bastard would turn her into a vegetable.

So here I am, now. Jaded by love. Too many lovers, and a few years before prostate cancer.

There have been a couple of emerging beauties in the last couple of years, but I've grown lazy. Tired of the chase. So, I need these divas to come to me. Which of them will take me in my old age?

The always BIG. Jennifer.

Fantasia, who proves that even a voice so ugly can be so beautiful at the same time - and the way she dances. She's a keeper.

Amy - who will always remind me that a life degenerating into drug addiction and devil worship can be beautiful. And. Honestly. Bitch can Blow.

Jazmine, my favorite of late. So much pain in that voice, and so much rage. *heavy french accent* We could be so broken and happy together, my sweet?

Beyonce, Leona, and Joss can forget it....WANNABES!!

The Death of Evangelicalism

2009-03-11T09:10:00.000-07:00

I came across this article yesterday, and while there are no statistics to support its claims, I think it alludes to a general feeling shared by a significant number of Christians today. Me being the most significant of ALL of them.

Before I break out the confetti and margaritas, what does this mean for the fight for gay marriage? Anyone?

No one?

Okay, now where did I put Senor Cuervo.....

Someone HELP ME!

2009-03-11T08:45:00.000-07:00

I have spent the last couple of mornings as the King of my bed. King of Sloth. Why, You may ask? iTunes Visualizer, which single-handedly proves that you don't need drugs to have mind altering experiences. All you need is a Mac. I'm not one for the psychedelic, but this is the most beautiful light display I've ever seen. I literally just spent an hour and a half trying to figure out how one display is creating so many different expressions to interact with my music.

I'm certain that this is another case where I'm leagues behind everyone else in discovery, but if by some chance you have not noticed it on your iTunes yet, and you would like to tell me that I am in fact alone in my addiction - press command, "T"

One has to wonder, with all the cool things that Apple is creating, what they are up to. Are they trying to turn people into zombies. BECAUSE IT'S WORKING. HELP! I'M ADDICTED TO MY MAC!

Youtube Killed the Radio Star

2009-02-23T19:35:00.000-08:00

I've been deep in contemplation in this frigid heart of winter, contemplating my rise to power, stardom and rule over the earth as many mammalian species also happen to do in their dreams during hibernation. The route remains unclear to me. On my computer is a stash of videos (calm down, not porn) of me singing to a number of songs which I could post in the endless chasm of deep cyberspace, but I have been hesitant. Before you judge me for the crime which you know me to be guilty of - namely being a lazy-assed waste of perfectionist - the videos are obviously all incomplete - let me tell you my thoughts which will help to explain my unfortunate lack of progress in this direction.

Remember that beautiful song sung by some band who didn't matter and God knows what the rest of the lyrics are? "Video killed the radio star". I've been giving that a lot of thought. I'm not even going to attempt to count how many hours I spend on Youtube watching singer after singer. Some of them are so good. Have you heard her? Of course you have:

Have you heard this guy? Maybe not - but you love him right? So do I.

Why are these singers not being snatched - why aren't they touring on a larger scale or their albums everywhere? Case in point. The fact is that youtube is great for getting yourself out there. It's also FREE. I don't sing for free, Y'ALL. That baby mama's got to get some chuching CHING to get her fat ass out my mouth. My hypothesis is that few of these youtube stars ever make it to radio because when people are so used to watching them sing for free they instantly lose their actual marketability; at least on a big scale. Youtube stars are like street-corner homeless musicians, only with a laptop. I wasn't a business major - but I know that Starbucks can't just up and lower the price of their coffee because the country is in a recession. Similarly, I'm not going to up and sing on Youtube just because the prospects of a contract in my future seem lower.

There's another reason not to put those videos out there - and perhaps a more honest reason that I'm uncomfortable with what I've made so far, aside from the fact that I'm naked. It's that I really get a lot of energy looking at the people I'm singing to. It's a little different when I have a computer staring at my face. I don't feel quite so aroused.

So don't get me wrong.

I'll still sing on your street corner. and. beg. for.....mm on. LOVE.

King of Karaoke or American Idol Front Runner?

2009-02-10T11:16:00.000-08:00

I'm hooked again. I tell myself every year that American Idol is stupid, irrelevant to the music scene, and is sending this country into an addictive frenzy due to the monopoly the show has on everyone's time. So I'm a little bitter about my auditions - it's okay. I'll be fine

*starts slamming his head on the desk repeatedly.

Anyway, something happens right around hollywood week and like a little adolescent girl who goes from thinking boys have koodies to screaming in harpie toned decibals at a New Kids on the Block Concert, I fall in love. This is the greatest show in the world, and that "something" is singer Adam Lambert.

Prediction: Adam Lambert will make it to the Top 10, and I venture to say Top 5. Already his video counts on youtube are getting a lot of hits. He's a little theatrical (gay, obviously) but he can sing the pants off anything, and I think that is what will wow audiences.

Aside from this positive prediction, I don't think he will win, unless he plays his cards very close to his chest. Any male singer who appears too flamboyant on the show tends to be regarded as a spectacle rather than a serious artist. I give him props for a smart audition choice, though.

Hats off to Adam Lambert.

For Better, For Worse

2009-01-09T19:54:00.000-08:00

I Ash, take you ______, to be my wedded husband. To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness or in health, to love and to cherish til death do us part. And hereto I pledge you my faithfulness.

Imagine what it will be like for us to be able say that to the one we love.

One day.

Right now, it's the "for better, for worse" part that gets me. I can't explain why that about sums it up. It isn't written, "for the greater good and the sanctity of marriage". It is written, "For better, for worse". Maybe it's because I don't know that everything is going to be perfect. I don't know that this is going to end happily ever after, but I know I'm happy when I'm with him. We all take this leap of faith, and who can tell us that we're not just falling, but some of us have the chance to show others how strangely beautiful it is to fall and never find the ground again.

The Legend of Dorkus Maximus

2008-12-22T09:10:00.000-08:00

I've never been in a fight; like a REAL fight - a fist-fight. I look in the mirror sometimes and wish I had a few battle scars on my face. I wish I had broken my nose or my jaw just so that I could say that I survived, and maybe even grew stronger, because I took a beating. What would that looking glass show if I had started even a couple fights when the guys in my gym class tripped me up the steps in junior high, or when everyone laughed at me on the baseball field because I couldn't throw much less catch a ball.

I was such an awkward kid at that age: I wore glasses that covered my mouse-sized face, and clothes that screamed "Dorkus Maximus": my wardrobe consisting of turtle necks, colorful silk button shirts, corduroys, and brown dress shoes. I'm not sure my heavenly Father was looking out for his 12 year old half indian child by allowing his growth spurt to finally get its fat ass passed the finish line 4 years later but I loved my Jesus all the same.

Then, there was my name - I was known affectionately as "Ass-cock" growing up, since Americans enjoy confusing anything foreign with gay sex. My name became such a problem that when our family moved for the 8th time, I decided to change it to something more heteromerican.

It doesn't seem appropriate given all that name calling and belittling that years later I became interested in pacifism, and although I maintain that war and fighting isn't always the answer - my Dad taught me a valuable lesson a couple of years ago; somewhere between loving your enemies and ergo letting them walk all over you, or getting the fist-fight you've always wanted and ergo becoming the king of White Trash Trailer Park, PA.

A few years ago, I was dealing with a bully of the worst kind: a car salesman. I had never negotiated for anything in my life. I had been in an accident, my car (hence, my life) had been totalled, it was months after the accident, and the salesman was enjoying his long game of chess a little too much. At the car dealership one evening, he and I were talking while my dad had wandered off somewhere, at which point he decided to tell me how much I needed a car. He knew that he was pushing me over the edge, and he was good at it. I didn't want to talk, I (the spoiled brat I was) wanted to drive my new car off that lot that very night. So, the solution was simple to me. I simply called him an ass-hole. I lost. I got my car, but the salesman got my pride and a sale which could have been negotiated lower. That night, he had proven to himself and me that I was nothing more than the spoiled son of a wealthy family. I still picture purple and red where his face once was.

My dad was upset, of course, that I had lost my cool but he told me as only a father can to his 24 going on 7 year old son that the salesman we had been dealing with that night WAS an asshole but that my verbal punch that night lost the game because in the real world, people win fights not with name-calling or punches or being "christian" or "pacifist" but by being smart and keeping your respect - and the only way to do that is to keep your cool and your wits. So, what did I do tonight at the restaurant?

"Sorry sir, sorry sir! Oh, you wanted crispy duck instead of shredded duck? You stupid MOTHERFUCKER!! YOU BETTER FUCKING EAT THAT SHIT OR I SWEAR mumbles something indiscernable...(snaps out of it) Just kidding. I was only kidding! (Laughing heartily to myself)"

To be continued...

Parking Tickets

2008-12-12T09:39:00.000-08:00

I don't think anyone in the world has received as many parking tickets as I have. As soon as I call the Pittsburgh Parking Court and I hear their state of the art automated answering system, I know I was the one who helped pay for it. The least they could do is give me a little shout out or something so that everyone knows my name. Anyway, I'm pretty sure they know my car: make, model, year, and license plate by heart now and have all my frequented parking locations mapped out on in their offices.

It's a little disconcerting to think that parking authority officers have to make their 40K per year plus benefits making other people's lives miserable. In high school and in college, it was drilled into my head that I should pursue my passion and that the money would follow. As I've grown older, I've come to realize that this idea is HORSE-SHIT. Excuse my profanity, little ones. My dad, the inventor of toaster strudel, did not get where he is today with the help of this philosophy. So, everyday, when I get my parking ticket, I think about what passion these ticket nazis were pursuing before they decided to make ruining my day their life. I think it's a fascinating inquiry, don't you?

I think I might have gained a little insight into this modern form of sodomy a few days ago when an old ticket Nazi - let's call him Grumps, decided to stand in the empty parking lot right beside the fully occupied starbucks parking lot waiting expectantly to make my life a living hell. I decided to play the idiot, as I often do when I REALLY want something (and I REALLY wanted a caramel macchiato), so I parked my car right in front of him. As I got out of the car to traverse the occupied parking lot to our modern day oasis, Grumps did an odd thing, and in a rather murderous way started pointing to the badge on his uniform. I feigned a double take, as though I hadn't seen it before, gave him my horrified little lamb look, and strangely (but much to my victorious glee) said with his hand out as though I were already arguing with him, "No, NO! It's okay this time. I'll let it slide. There's a reason for it. Blessings on you!"

On the way back, happy with my hot caramel macchiato in hand, I gave him a knowing - "Thank you, sir". Again, he said "Blessings...."

He wanted to be a pastor.

Must have liked boys too much.

Thunderbird Cafe

2008-12-10T15:58:00.000-08:00

Sometimes, Pittsburgh really surprises me - and it's not just because everyday there's a new hole in the road that threatens to ruin the tires on my car. Although, even that causes a surprise when I realize how much profanity I'm capable of regurgitating. Believe it or not, every week I find a new reason to love Pittsburgh and as it happens, not with a hole in the road, but a hole in the wall drinking establishment which makes a hole seem quite desirable.

Thunderbird Cafe is my new favorite destination for Karaoke on Tuesday nights. What's great about this little nook is that like most buildings in this bleak, gray town, the facade is boring and decrepit and in no way inviting. However, like from a Harry Potter novel as you enter this tavern, you begin to discover a new world full of magic aka good live music, and witches (lesbians).

On a side note, I still think the name lesbian is an unfortunate word for a woman who likes her own sex. It always reminded me of the biblical monster "leviathan", and while I know they can be scary, so little is known about them.

.....

The decor inside gets progressively more inspiring as you pass the bar and walk underneath a loft area with seating, an upstairs mini bar, a nice stage, and most importantly one of the last remaining buildings in America with exposed brick. I exaggerate, of course. But REALLY, exposed brick is a beautiful and rare thing, which means I will enjoy this cozy atmosphere as I drink my scotch and sing magic spells in my own little hole in the universe.

check them out

Keith throws a Tantrum.

2008-11-19T08:47:00.000-08:00

I appreciated this broadcast but I also found it a little annoying. It's uncommonly honest, and for someone who has no frog in my pond there's a lot of sentiment. Olbermann has always been a little hard to digest, because he always comes out looking like an adolescent child who wrote an I hate you note to his parents explaining why with a whining logic. This particular broadcast comes closer to looking like a really bad rendition of a Broadway musical. But since we're being honest, if a straight man with some clout in media circles wants to sing "Put a little love in your heart" to a world of hateful christians, I am flattered and grateful, even if it is a little out of tune.

HONESTLY, what's really annoying about this is that here is a straight guy, with no frog in my pond, and he has to be the one to get all emotional about something to get average joes out there to understand that all I want is to get married. Gay people have been making this speech for years. How dense do people have to be to realize that they're not losing anything in this? The argument for same-sex marriage is so easy. All the arguments against it are much more complicated, because they involve nebulous terms like the sanctity of marriage, which isn't an argument for marriage at all. Arguments referencing the sanctity of marriage, and the unique status of men and women only serve to call into question the love and devotion gay couples have for one another, and since all we want is a chance to commit to each other before society and God what other option is society giving us in the pursuit of happiness but to be no better than whores or, at the most, second class families?

The real indifference lies with straight couples - who don't really wish to get to know us and our families. To see that we want the same things they want, and if that is morally wrong, it will be for God to judge, not the constitution.

Tales of a Misanthropist

2008-11-15T20:01:00.000-08:00

I think I am a bad friend. I remember in college, everyone communicated via AOL instant messenger. If you didn't, you were weird and one of those reclusive types (who was probably going to take over the world one day). Even then, I used to go online JUST to see who else was online and keep up with people's away messages which were our primitive facebook status. I usually didn't keep away messages except for the purpose of inanely wanting someone in particular to read it. Afterwards, I would quickly abscond, just so that 5 minutes later I could login again and everyone could see my AOL name: SHOKEY30A popup and popout like a manic strobe light all night.

Now, I religiously avoid facebook chat because, frankly, most of the 250 people that I've found from my past seem like foreign objects from long ago that I can't really decipher anymore - and REALLY if they knew me now, they would probably freak out. This might seem insecure, but when you're gay, you're actually being compassionate when you predict the probability that 50% of the people you knew when you were closeted will probably feel it's their duty to share 2 or 3 pages of their stupidly held prejudices with you. I just don't have time or energy for all of it. People need to know when they have to learn the truth the hard way. Sans moi :-D

I'm even weirder on gchat. I really don't start conversations with my friends. I wish I did. But I don't. I keep my status light "busy", sometimes because I don't want to talk, but mostly because I'm sweating with anxiety as to whether or not my friends are too busy to chat. What if I'm that annoying friend that starts a conversation with them when they are in the middle of a paper, or a really important conversation with someone else. I don't want to be the "call waiting" conversation.

I have gone on many tangents. Ah yes. Why I'm a bad friend.

Is it really just me though? I think not. There's enough blame to go around in this economy guys. Why else would communication be so weird today. It's unnecessary and unorganized. You have people texting while they're driving through red lights, people cyber chatting with colleagues in the office who are just a cubicle away. People don't say what they mean, and usually when they say anything it's just to fill the meaningless void in their lives. There is too much room for misunderstanding in chatting, texting and the like. I have tried so hard to explain to my friends why I generally dislike texting. It's actually really easy. If you care, you'll call or talk to me like a human being. If you want to know how I'm doing - ask me and get to know me better. Because I doubt you know me THAT well... EVEN if you've known me for years. I might seem like this or like that to you at first glance, and if you were right, I'm not a page on cyberspace that you can click to for a second and get the general idea. So when you're on gchat, or facebook, or myspace (which is gross), please be kind and read between the lines.

There. You see. I knew I would figure out why I'm a bad friend.

Lights will guide you home

2008-11-12T02:38:00.000-08:00

I've been doing a lot of thinking and this is what I've decided. I've decided that God is love and all but Jehovah is just a little too silent in this dark and sinister world, and Jesus, well... he's great but I'm just generally annoyed by the religion he supposedly created. After awhile, you really begin to dissociate with Christianity when you're gay. I think this is natural, and healthy. It's like this...

I just think that there are some good things in the Bible. I even think that it's a really nice idea that God exists and who knows... maybe Jesus did die for my sins - but I kinda get the feeling the way that people are worshipping the Son of God these days that they want him to not only take away their sins, but also their responsibilities as human beings, and the anger this creates in my soul everytime I read the headlines is probably enough to set fire to every church in America. This isn't healthy, but my rage is a separate issue here. My first step will to stop pretending I identify with these people. Because I don't. I expect more moderate evangelicals who feel the same way to do the same, because REALLY that evangelical shit is just a mess.

My second step into a brighter, much more beautiful world is to create my own religion. Seriously. I think that is everyone's duty. Because our imaginations are too awesome to let some cave dweller who was, no doubt, bored out of his mind, thousands of years ago have all the fun writing his holy book of myths. Whether or not you believe in God doesn't even matter because even if Moses, or Muhammad were making it up - think of all the hope their words and stories gave to people. False hope... but hope nonetheless. I just think people need to create their own truth to save them, because people know what's right and wrong. After awhile, you should be adult enough to know that for yourself but don't just blindly accept someone else's truth. It might inspire you, but that doesn't make it yours.

This was a long time coming.

not every thought needs a title...

2008-10-29T11:59:00.000-07:00

Today, I sat in a coffeeshop for crazies like me, watching the first snow fall in October. I wasn't ready for it this year, and I'm amazed because once again, the holiday season is right around the corner. All of the sudden, I start to get excited. The cold doesn't seem so bad. It actually seems kind of beautiful.

King of America

2008-10-27T13:16:00.001-07:00

Everyday, I find more reasons to be annoyed by our pseudo-democracy. Today, a man comes into the restaurant ordering something or other some Thai s*@$ and I happened to have been talking with June casually about politics and how bipolar I was this election, having been at one point a huge Ron Paul supporter and then going to the other extreme with my support for Obama. The man looks at me as though he was looking at the biggest idiot in the world (which is not out of the question - I'm not so knowledgable about our country, or the economy), and says, "You shouldn't be voting for either one of them." I was obviously giggling histerically, concealing my deep and abiding hatred for this man. He proceeded to give me his, no doubt, educated philosophy for why our country would go to hell in a hand basket if either one of them were elected. I nearly opened my mouth at that point to say, "Umm... We're not electing a monarch."

Duhh... I mean. There are three other branches to our government. I learned that in 7th grade. And even though Bush magnified the power of the executive branch in some pretty anti-constitutional ways - I'm trying to remain positive that if 51% of the popular vote goes to another douchebag, it's just 4 years right? It's either that or I'm moving to England.

Actually, he's right. I can't deal with McCain.

This suspense is killing me.

We're All Californians

2008-10-25T10:02:00.000-07:00

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/California_Proposition_8_(2008)

It's all so stupid it gives me a headache. It should be called the California Marriage Defamation Act which supports the annullment of thousands of happy, hard-earned marriages in the state of California, and therefore clearly supports the virtues we based this country on in the first place.

McCain, Obama and the Mysterious Q

2008-10-24T04:39:00.000-07:00

Just thought I would share something this morning, and because it's still early and the day's news might not yet have reached your eyes, I'm going to get my story out as quick as I can to keep either of our political supermen from further mischief.

Last night, a mysterious man we will call "Q" called the restaurant where I work saying that a woman was attacked outside a bar across from our restaurant. This, I'm not doubting. I know it happened. It happens in this city ripe with racial discrimination, and misogynistic beer guzzling steelers fans. Q calls the restaurant not specifying whether or not he is a police officer, but making SURE to tell me the predator's political allegiances. The attacker was, of course, an Obama supporter - and obviously the victim was voting for McCain this November. A few more vague, unfocused questions and that was it.

Riiiiigggghhhtt.

Luckily that day, I had come across an article by the Associated Press saying that McCain's strategy for winning this election is to win Pennsylvania - which a Republican hasn't won in 20 years. Philadelphia being a bastion for Democratic support, the McCain campaign will be focusing on areas like Lancaster, Wilkes-Barre Scranton, and where else? Pittsburgh. So, naturally what do I think this call was?

You tell me. Was it grass roots slash and burn politics, a crazed McCain fan starting some trash talk, or was it a crazed Obama supporter committing a violent act against a McCain supporter because we all know OBAMA is CLEARLY losing in the Pennsylvania polls. I mean... Fine, I guess it could've been an Obama supporter because that's what people do when they support a campaign for peace and diplomacy around the world. Oops, I did it again. I'm sorry. Yeah. I mean maybe it could've been a crazed Obama supporter. I'm just saying.

Who are you, Q?

BTW: 'Just a little weird that the alleged attack took place right across from my restaurant at 9pm while the restaurant was still open and none of the employees or customers saw/heard it. I'M JUST SAYIN'.

I'd be screamin' if I had the letter B knifed in my face.

"Housewife" Jay Brannan

2008-10-17T10:25:00.000-07:00

Sorry I'm sharing all these videos lately... This is funny and amazing and it's nice to hear all the things I dream about in a song. This guy's stuff is deece... download it. All of it. :-D

Liturgical Nonsense

2008-10-16T06:47:00.000-07:00

I seem to be on a nonsense kick these days, so in the spirit of the season, I wanted to talk about something that makes no sense to me. I'm a church guy. First, I was forced to go to church by my mom, then I was forced to go to church to make friends, then I loved church and went 3 times a week, then I started hating church and everything it stands for... so, obviously I'm working at one. I've been to traditional churches, contemporary style services, korean churches, baby mama churches, gay-hating churches, conservative churches, liberal churches etc... The one thing I have never understood is the liturgy. Apparently, I'm one of the few, though - 'cause they're all the rage. Or. Something.

For those of you who don't know, the liturgy is a set of prayers and recitations that are scripted for the congregation to rehearse - typically out loud, and in unison during an entire service. They usually come out of the Book of Common Prayer - or at least go back to some very old tradition somewhere in Cambodia.

It's not that I don't understand their appeal. It's nice to feel connected to something so ancient... I guess. One of my professors in college looked forward to reciting the liturgy before class everyday. I know a few pastors personally who rely heavily on the liturgy for their services. It's okay - I get it. I just think it's fascist. For however long you're DOING IT - essentially you're shutting off your brain, and talking like a Nazi Robot along with 200 other robots in the sanctuary. How comforting.

I just think people should be encouraged to pray from their heart. Not out loud - because there are some people - let's be honest, who do NOT pray well. My mind instantly floats back to a girl in college who used to pray before our mandatory fascist chapel services. She used the name "Father God" in her prayers the way a street thug uses "Motherfucker". People should be encouraged to find their own center. In silence. People should be encouraged to create; not find God just so that we can all fit into the same suit.

Community. Which is what the liturgy is supposed to be all about, is not about everyone speaking the same language, or saying the same tired old things, or in my opinion, having the same creed. The liturgy should be about finding someone who is totally different from you exactly where they are and leaving their presence feeling awed at how much bigger and how different God is than you thought He was.

Soo... feel free to stone me now.

"Summer"

2008-10-07T18:16:00.000-07:00

This is a really well done short film D showed me today. Ah, those were the days. Tortured youth, we were.

Wow, this made no sense.

2008-10-06T07:41:00.000-07:00

Last week I went to Boston on a little escapade. It's hard to believe that only one year has gone by since I set fire to my friend's house. Now that I'm older and wiser, I'll remember to stab and kill those clams before they have a chance to set people's houses aflame. Blasted clams!

I was on the Boston Transit, and looking like Mary Poppins with no umbrella on the rainiest weekend in New England. There I was sopping wet and fumbling at the subway station with my roller suitcase looking like an immigrant travelling for the first time. During my travels, I discovered a wonderful thing. Public Transportation. I know. Revolutionary.

Unlike Pittsburgh, Boston has a really great subway system. I love subways. I'm not sure what it is about these rat-infested, human/cat pee smelling holes in the ground that make me feel like I'm at home. There's something really endearing about all of it, though. Let me try to explain in my own immigrant language though what I saw: A priest talking to a ragged old man who was asking him thousands of questions about his life at seminary. A young lawyer, sitting next to a homelss person (albeit, very uncomfortably) - at least that homeless person has the opportunity in this great country of ours to take what is rightfully his and rip that De La Renta suit right off his back. My heart was filled with such joy as a Japanese immigrant from Cuba. In Cuba, you don't get to ask questions to priests about their personal lives. In Cuba everyone speaks the same language. Everyone has to wear the same clothes. Everyone still has to worship Fidel Castro. Here, I can be anything I want. On any given day.

I can pee in the subway and no one will think it's just Cuba.

"Young, Gifted and Black" Donny Hathaway

2008-09-16T12:01:00.001-07:00

To be Young, Gifted and Indian

2008-09-16T07:01:00.000-07:00

The other day a group of Indian college students decided to come into the restaurant 5 minutes before close. Normally when this takes place, I may grumble a little, but I come back to reality... I am a waiter. This is part of the job: Inevitable frustration with people. Luckily tonight, it was my managers turn to take the table. I should have seen the signs.

What is it about Indians?

Half of my heritage belongs to culture that is so rich, so diverse and proud that it can't tip my manager more than 2 dollars on a 50 dollar bill - and in the meantime ask her to split their check 5 ways. My Indian family and friends are so hospitable, kind and generous; and yet when my manager went to wait on them with the utmost respect and hospitality - they barely acknowledged her. I apologized to her. Was it my fault, or a reflection on me that half of my blood treated her this way, of course not, but I apologized because these people make me deeply ashamed of my heritage.

You've seen them. You know Dr. Patel is your family doctor who gives you your physical and performs surgery on your spleen. You know Apu who takes your sub order at the local subway with the most miserable look you've ever seen. You've seen them infiltrating this country's schools by the thousands taking every award and driving themselves to the top in every respected position in society. And no doubt you wonder, is America becoming Indian?

There's something Americans need to understand about what makes our country different from other nations and why its important to hold on to it no matter how much the face of our country changes. It's called dignity of labor. There are no untouchables in this country. All people deserve to be treated with respect for their work.

Indians may say they believe in equality, but the caste system still exists in India and the effects of its social prejudice still exist in the mind of most of its citizens. Waiters, craftspeople, artists, housekeepers, cooks etc... are treated with - at the very minimum - cynicism, annoyance and indifference.

Walk on a street in India, as a person of any wealth or stature, and you will have hundreds of people clamoring after you, giving you attention worthy of royalty, but these people don't love you. They're desperate because you have a life and dignity that they will NEVER possess. They may ask for money, but what they really crave is love, respect, and knowledge. Meanwhile, if their indifference weren't enough - the wealthy and educated of India show their true colors by bargaining down for services and goods simply because they don't believe that the services offered are worth one day's living.

Ten thousand miles away, these cynical people come to take advantage of our opportunity and forget to put aside their indifference toward the underpriveleged. So, we find CEO's of some of our top corporations applying this mentality in America, outsourcing whole divisions and hundreds of thousands of jobs of their company to places like India and China where they can find the labor cheap.

Now, take me. An indian born to privilege, who was expected to fall into the life of an educated professional with some parenting from his non-indian mother and finds himself instead a talented musician, and in his 20's discovers that he is gay - all to the chagrin of a successful indian father and a society that sees him as an untouchable. How proud am I to be young, gifted and Indian?

Screw it. I'm gon' sang child.

Russ Chimes "Mulsanne"

2008-09-15T20:16:00.000-07:00

If this doesn't move you even so much as a little head bob, i'm not sure what will. not much to look at, i know, but... life changing mix.

so good.

Today, I Fight

2008-08-12T11:49:00.000-07:00

I have deliberately taken a break from blogging in the last couple of months. I don't totally understand why. As often happens, I usually skip from one passion to the next out of boredom. I've been trying to find a new voice for this blog; not just because I'm bored with the writing I've been doing - but for a need to find real change in the way I look at my experiences and share them with other people.

I promise I'm not becoming boring.

Too late.

You ever get that feeling that you've been hiding behind so many faces that you've lost a sense of your own? What does Ash look like? What does he want to say? What does he NEED to say?

I was the bounciest kid you've ever met in your life. So happy. I danced a lot. Smiled really big and I was usually pretty nice - unless my sisters were involved, in which case I became violent. (I had my reasons, TRUST ME).

I banged the piano a lot and probably drove my mom crazy, which is why she forced me to take piano lessons. I asked A LOT of questions. My mom still has a tape of me when I was a baby, and one of the first things I spoke was, "What?" Kind of funny to hear it. One of the first songs I wrote on the piano asked, "Why do the birds fly like the wind? Why does the ocean come to the shore?" ... I wrote that when I was 2. okay fine, 9.

I remember asking my mom once why a group of kids were bullying a boy at the playground. I remember her being sad when she gave her answer, and I promised her I would never be like that. I still hope to be that person. Incidentally, I got spanked the most out of all of us children - I never did what I was supposed to do. Chores. Yikes. Practicing Piano... ugh. I know that hasn't changed much.

I was the biggest eavesdropper you ever met. I was also stubborn as hell when I "knew" I was right about something. I could throw a tantrum from time to time - and rage when I saw my dad mistreat my mom - but for whatever reason, I eventually became passive and allowed people to act however they deemed wise. I listen now, and I watch people. Sometimes when I'm listening and I don't like what I hear - I just shut down. And I wonder now what happened to that fire - to all that power. I don't know where it went -

But I remember that boy today, who was full of joy. And I remember the screaming too, the strength he had to rage at those who ignored compassion and today I fight.

The Suckerpunches of Love and Why I don't believe in THE ONE

2008-08-11T19:59:00.000-07:00

Tonight, I read about people who have been in love and lost. Ah, tis a sad and familiar tale. My story is a PRIME example but I shan't speak of it here. It would cause too much pain and I am a compassionate human being. A recent friend of mine has been going through a very tough episode of unrequited love. I feel that God has obviously intervened in this person's life, placing MOI there so that I may be of wisdom and assistance.

My friend who we will call Tom the Walrus was in love for a period of time with a woman named Bianca the Seal. They were happily in love, all their stars pointed north in their home of Antarctica, and marriage seemed inevitable. One day, for no apparent reason, Tom the Walrus finds the homestead empty and Bianca's flap prints in the snow going toward Bruce the Sea Lion's house. When he follows the tracks, from the distance, he sees Bruce and Bianca doing the discovery channel nasty. Tom is heartbroken. Tom spends months crying, months trying to get Bianca to come back, because he's so convinced that those stars still meant everything.

So what is love? One of my friends used to tell me that love was physical. I told him flat out that he was wrong but here's what I'm going to tell you... Love is just physical. The problem with love is that it only exists when two people create it for each other. Maybe she didn't feel the same way, but even if she did she's just a loser seal. She'll probably starve and drowned in the icy north sea waters when an iceberg melts and she's left swimming for hours, alone, cold, tired. There are so many seals in Antarctica, even with global warming; and there are SO many stars in the sky. This idea that she was the One only exists in your head and your disappointed reproductive organ. The person you knew died when she left. That's because love is a lie - it's the best mask you'll ever wear for someone. Bianca is now a first class bitch and it's okay for you to think of her that way.

See how happy you can be?!!!

Don't take my advice. Ever. EVER. Go find a therapist.

that gay little thai...

2008-07-26T21:35:00.000-07:00

Sorry for all the puns on my post titles. I can't help it. It really stems from when I was abused as a child and my mom didn't want to use the word spank - it just sounded too mean. Since then, I've been afraid of titles. They're all kind of scary. Speaking of trauma...

Listen, this isn't a really important post or anything but I learned something new the other day about our buddhist friends that I found disconcerting enough to write about here. It just kinda seems like the "in" thing to do these days when you're liberal or just desperate to find some shred of spirituality in America to become buddhist (usually cuz you're a big fat GAY) and the other day I just wanted to make sure the basis for these mass conversions was sound. Turns out Buddha is just about as cool with the gays as Yahweh.

I was asking June, my thai mother, what Buddhists believe about gays. Turns out that while they are very accepting of homos in Thailand, the underlying belief is that you did something bad in your past life and well... Karma. Maybe I'm overreacting - even though that is very uncommon - but I just thought the part where June said that my previous soul probably RAPED or murdered someone was a little much.

Once again, these archaic little things that people believe which can't really be proven OR disproven. I just sat and smiled...

I, my friends, was once a rapist.

As alluring as that sounds - I just want to make a clear headed decision and weigh the pros and cons of each religion before I pick one :

1. Christianity - Being Gay = Burn in Hell.
2. Buddhism - Being Gay = Punishment for Sins of a Past Life
3. Islam - "No Such Thing as a Homosexual" - Ahmedinajerk
4. Hindu - Being Gay = I still have no idea.

5. What I THINK: Being Gay = A Unique and Fucking Awesome time in Bed.

Just Say No, Kids.

2008-06-30T20:50:00.000-07:00

My favorite new word is: NO. I know. You were expecting something totally different. Some obscure word that is almost never used in everyday speech so that one day when you're sitting at some coffeeshop with either people you don't know enough to care or people you're just getting to know you can whip it out and - SURPRISE... You're either smarter than people thought you were or crooked... Wait.

My reason for this overwrought obsession is because for the last 25 years of my life I've been saying yes so much. Yes to everything. Yes because I like you and we should be friends. Yes because you're a good person. Yes because I love you so much it hurts. I'm tired of yes - because there's ONLY ONE WAY TO SAY IT.

On the other side of Dante's Inferno is the word NO - which can be said in a million different ways. My current favorite is saying it emphatically and almost before someone is done saying what is obviously useless information to you. I think Merryl Streep does it best in the Devil Wears Prada during her senior staff meeting.

No. Because you're not always right - sometimes not even partially right. This is where the post gets deep which you're probably not ready for. Sometimes people are just plain wrong and while there is something to be said for not following the American trend of turning everything into a warring dualism e.g. conservative vs. liberal, gay vs. straight, black vs. white, republican vs. democrat. When someone is trying to tell me that my mother is black ima' say HAIL NO.

Don't Patronize Me, Charles... I'm PERFECTLY sober.

2008-06-04T21:53:00.001-07:00

Tonight, I realized something. Nothing profound.

Remember that infamous comment Obama made about Pennsylvania: That when we felt we couldn't trust our government, we sought the comfort of guns and religion. I think the problem wasn't that it was offensive, it's that Obama got it wrong:

Pennsylvania clung to sports... or... something:

The Tom Yum Diet

2008-06-04T21:14:00.000-07:00

I don't really DO diets, kay? Capice? I'm ABOVE dieting. My best suggestion for anyone who REALLY wants to lose weight and avoid the stigma against bulimia in this country is to travel to a third world country and drink their water. The microbes will cause you to become violently ill for a couple of days so that you feel like your gag reflex is trying to kill you from the inside out. This sickness will then subside to give you a general feeling of indigestion. For the next couple of months, your desire to ingest anything will be dramatically reduced. And you'll lose at least 10 pounds - none of this Mean Girls Iwanttolose3poundsshit. Trust me. I did it. It was awesome.

India is great for microbes.

Actually it was a combination of things. Now, did you really think it was going to be THAT easy. Of course you didn't. Your hopes have been dashed so many times and you LOVE it. You're just waiting for me to whisper sweet nothings in your ear, JUST so that I can break your heart into tiny shreds again. In fact, dieting is the socially acceptable S&M of the day.

I love my job for a couple of reasons... I move. It's part of my job. Other people have the tedious task of setting aside one to two hours of their day to compartmentalize an extraordinary amount of physical energy. My job involves running for my SURVIVAL. It's necessary to keep me from living sprawled out on the streets, which makes it more fun.

Also, after my near death experience in India, I discovered two wonderful foods which I proceeded to live on faithfully for the 2 months of my Indigestion Period. Tom Yum - a delicious, lowfat lemongrass soup rich in antioxidants and flavor and best with chicken. (I ate a big bowl per meal). Brown Rice - the shittiest tasting rice in the world, which you get used to after awhile because you realize that American cuisine contains NO fiber which YOU NEED to poop out all the FAT in your body. That's what makes Brown Rice the most awesome SHIT in the world.

As a side note - I don't believe in breakfast, and learn to love spicy food. You burn more calories when you're sweating because your mouth is on fire.

THANKS, Your Thai Waiter Friend - Ash

If Ellen Degeneres had a father named John McCain

2008-06-04T14:16:00.000-07:00

This video should motivate our generation to vote this November. There IS this OLD (McCain) way of thinking that has kept women from being able to vote, black people from being treated equally under the law, and gay people from enjoying all the rights and priveleges that are afforded to American citizens under the constitution. Poor McCain. He can't even articulate a solid position in front of a real gay.

Just silence and a look of horror (see 1:37) akin to a father realizing his son/daughter is gay. I suppose all he has are closet cases in his party for ideas.

Yeah, I'm pretty sure I heard Mike Huckabee articulate his position much better and he's no longer in the running. Good to know I have a voice coming through loud and clear in the executive branch.

Also, I'll never really understand why it matters whether or not people agree about the "sanctity" of marriage - what does that have to do with me? NOTHING. Only the Big Man UP 'THER CAN JUDGE ME FOO.

I ain't gon cra if dat's whut you thinkin

But I wi speak ma mine - tale ya ha a feel boud it.

Lazy and CRAZY

2008-05-31T19:38:00.000-07:00

I'm going to hate myself a little. You see, my friends and I are bloggers. We blog because it's one of the ways we distinguish ourselves from other people. WEIRD people. I'm going to hate myself because have to copy something from a friend's blog. It's really not that important, but it caught my attention.

I do not read horoscopes. If I read them, it is because I have nothing else to do and as a struggling singer/songwriter, you ALWAYS SHOULD be doing something contrary to the popular belief that we just enjoy sitting on street corners and wailing about our woes for nickels and dimes. I heard it said once that we songwriters are the modern equivalents to prophets and seers... unlike the people who write horoscopes. So PLEASE... tip your street corner musician.

So, my friend posted not his daily horoscope, but the description of his horoscope sign and the first thing I found intriguing about it was how long the description was - and specific. Usually, perhaps because horoscope writers know the huxters they are deep inside, horoscopes are vague and short so that if you are reading you will spend the rest of the day doing NIENTE (that's italian for jackshit) with your life except thinking about all the possible meanings for what you have just read.

BUT, the description of his horoscope sign was also (not that I KNOW him THAT well) fairly accurate. So, in honor of the craze his blog has borne in me. Please read the description of my horoscope sign and tell me how much YOU THINK you know about me. :-D

Traditional
Libra Traits

Diplomaitic and urbane
Romantic and charming
Easygoing and sociable
Idealistic and peaceable

On the dark side....

Indecisive and changeable
Gullible and easily infuenced
Flirtatious and self-indulgent

Libra is the only inanimate sign of the zodiac, all the others representing either humans or animals. Many modern astrologers regard it as the most desirable of zodiacal types because it represents the zenith of the year, the high point of the seasons, when the harvest of all the hard work of the spring is reaped. There is a mellowness and sense of relaxation in the air as mankind enjoys the last of the summer sun and the fruits of his toil. Librans too are among the most civilized of the twelve zodiacal characters and are often good looking. They have elegance, charm and good taste, are naturally kind, very gentle, and lovers of beauty, harmony (both in music and social living) and the pleasures that these bring.

They have good critical faculty and are able to stand back and look impartially at matters which call for an impartial judgment to be made on them. But they do not tolerate argument from anyone who challenges their opinions, for once they have reached a conclusion, its truth seems to them self-evident; and among their faults is an impatience of criticism and a greed for approval. But their characters are on the whole balanced, diplomatic and even tempered.

Librans are sensitive to the needs of others and have the gift, sometimes to an almost psychic extent, of understanding the emotional needs of their companions and meeting them with their own innate optimism (My friends call me, Cleo) - they are the kind of people of whom it is said, "They always make you feel better for having been with them." They are very social human beings. They loathe cruelty, viciousness and vulgarity and detest conflict between people (SHUT THE F@$# UP!!), so they do their best to cooperate and compromise with everyone around them, and their ideal for their own circle and for society as a whole is unity.

Their cast of mind is artistic rather than intellectual, though they are usually too moderate and well balanced to be avant garde in any artistic endeavor. They have good perception and observation and their critical ability, with which they are able to view their own efforts as well as those of others, gives their work integrity.

In their personal relationships they show understanding of the other person's point of view, trying to resolve any differences by compromise, and are often willing to allow claims against themselves to be settled to their own disadvantage rather than spoil a relationship. They like the opposite sex to the extent of promiscuity sometimes (Are you calling me a slut??!!), and may indulge in romanticism bordering on sentimentality.
Their marriages, however, stand a good chance of success because they are frequently the union of "true minds". The Libran's continuing kindness toward his or her partner mollifies any hurt the latter may feel if the two have had a tiff. Nor can the Libran's spouse often complain that he or she is not understood, for the Libran is usually the most empathetic of all the zodiacal types and the most ready to tolerate the beloved's failings.

The negative Libran character may show frivolity, flirtatiousness and shallowness. It can be changeable and indecisive, impatient of routine, colorlessly conventional and timid, easygoing to the point of inertia, seldom angry when circumstances demand a show of annoyance at least; and yet Librans can shock everyone around them with sudden storms of rage. (that was my favorite part of the whole description!) Their love of pleasure may lead them into extravagance; Libran men can degenerate into reckless gamblers, and Libran women extravagant, jealous and careless about money sometimes squander their wealth and talents in their overenthusiasm for causes which they espouse. Both sexes can become great gossipers. A characteristic of the type is an insatiable curiosity that tempts them to enquire into every social scandal in their circle.

In their work the description "lazy Libra" which is sometimes given is actually more alliterative than true...

LIKES

The finer things in life
Sharing
Conviviality
Gentleness

DISLIKES

Violence
Injustice
Brutishness
Being a slave to fashion

My Buddha drinks HOT water .

2008-05-31T19:17:00.000-07:00

It's FUNNY how some things are only funny in certain contexts. We all know the story. You were almost peeing on the living room floor because of some silly story your friend was telling you, and then when you recount that story to someone else (who most certainly isn't as cool) the crickets start chirping. awwwkward.

Well, I'm about to make the crickets chirp very loud. My manager - you know her, right? Her name is June. She's thai. She's your friendly neighborhood thai person. We share something in common, June and I - besides both being from Asia (yes, the country of Asia). Both of us are victim to a serious mental illness which causes us to laugh uncontrollably at random little thoughts going through our head. I know what you're thinking - Schizophrenia.

I'm stalling. Yesterday night, when it was crazy at work and customers were flying into the restaurant like wasps, June randomly said after I sneezed, "Go to hell" in her thai accent. She thought our custom of saying "Bless You" every time someone sneezes was stupid. We laughed for at least 20 minutes straight.

Anyone?

Yep. Not as cool as June.

Atheism and Me

2008-05-27T12:12:00.000-07:00

I've been reading a book called "God is Not Great" by Christopher Hitchens who is part of a new movement of atheists in this country. The reason I took notice of Hitchens is because he is on a mission to push-back against all the clerical bullying in America by evangelicals like Jerry Falwell, Pat Robertson etc... which is obviously why I like him.

So here's what I THINK, CHRISTOPHER:

1. One of the positions that you espouse in your book is that religion is one of man's primal attempts to explain what is BETTER explained through science.

In brief, because I will bore myself if I argue about this stuff for too long - Unlike most evangelicals, I DO NOT believe that religion should explain what is better explained science. That means, specifically, that I do not believe under any circumstances that the Bible was written to be a scientific record of the beginning of our species or the universe. I think what the Bible can attempt to record or point to are things which are transcendent, immeasurable, and metaphysical. I ALSO believe therefore that the Bible, like most accounts of its type is prone to enormous error since we are dealing with things which require faith.

2. You not only argue that religions have caused enormous harm to humanity, but are innately immoral.

I struggle with this point, because I WANT to agree. I want to agree that Jerry Falwell is evil. I want to agree that Sean Hannity is evil. I would love to agree with this point because these people are giving me an enormous headache, and hurting thousands of people that I love in the process, but that would be selfish of me. The problem with this argument is that it's stupid to think that an idea alone possesses the moral virtue necessary to make people good. Just because you've used your rational faculty rationally doesn't mean someone else is going to. People of all creeds are lazy and mediocre. We're all a little evil. We all like evil a little bit - power, greed, lust, corruption, megalomania. It's so easy to be evil. Being good takes a little more effort. Well, Christopher. Some Christians are lazy, too. They don't or won't allow their assumptions to be informed by others who might be more qualified on a particular subject because they feel they know exactly what God wants or says. They also were forbiddent to watch Reading Rainbow when they were children because their parents taught them that little demons named gays with their snake-like lisps worshipped rainbows and so reading other books besides the word of God is wrong.

Also, Americans don't just preach ideas; we sell them - which, in my opinion, is antithetical to the idea of the gospel. It doesn't look good to use reason as a Christian not because you'll go to hell if you think for yourself (yes, you won't go to hell), but because someone sold you the idea of salvation. You pay for it every time you automatically buy into what Rev. Slutjob says just because he stands at a pulpit, or anytime you say I love you, Jesus. Christianity Sold Out - (a forthcoming book). Jerry Falwell made lots of money preaching bigotry and narrow-minded values to thousands of people. What might be worse, though, is that Falwell taught Christians to stay in their little Christian box and abstain from respectful, open-minded dialogue with anyone who thinks differently. But I guess that doesn't sell as well either. Hence, FOX NEWS. CONCLUSION: Christopher - you might be a good atheist, but that doesn't mean I'm going to be.

3. Why would someone want to worship a God who had total supervision of everything you thought and did for the rest of your life and then when you die to have to sing praises to that God for the rest of eternity. This is the definition of a totalitarian ideal.

I'm starting to get bored by this, Christopher. This might be some people's idea of a good time, but it's not mine. I actually have no clue how to answer this because God and I aren't on speaking terms. It just got old - I felt like I was doing all the talking. I got tired of saying I love you to someone who was always working and never home. I didn't feel like he was making any effort etc...

In all seriousness, when DID this whole idea of a relational God get started? It's so stupid. And if he is watching me, he obviously isn't doing a very good job. Some dictator.

So, I really liked the book. The End.

Screwing Obama's True Colors

2008-05-07T12:50:00.000-07:00

What is the color I have chosen for my blog? It's somewhere between a cloudy day and a pale, sickly color. Like green. Like envy. Like I'm looking at my friends blogs and thinking, "i wish i were you but i can't find my true colors." and what is the name i've chosen for my blog??? screw it? who says screw it? it feels like something people say when they want to throw themselves out the window. well, actually that's not so bad. my blog is a mess. i'm going to clean house - literally and cybernetically. yes, that's what I said.

people like change. like obama.

Ms. Bloomfield, PA

2008-05-06T16:51:00.001-07:00

My job has been going well. The problem with my job is that people tip you better the more you look like a jester - I've been noticing some ghastly lines under my eyes which make me look like I'm 40. Clarification, they make my eyes look 40 on a 12 year old's face which is the basic description of a clown. 25-40% everytime. My age is not the subject of this post, however.

This cute shit-hole little restaurant that I work at finds its home in one of the silliest little neighborhoods in Pittsburgh. Known affectionately as Bloomfield - or as my dad calls it, "the rectum of Pittsburgh". It's large italian population, along with the crack addicts, and people with mental illness mean I'm constantly entertained.

I was going about my daily servitude with a little more spunk when an old lady came into the restaurant pushing a wire dolly basket of flowers and similarly decorated attire. She walked right through to the dining room staring at me with large, terrified looking eyes as I patiently followed her to see where she wished to seat herself. She stood in the middle of the dining room looking very awkward with her cart of flowers but strangely calm. I directed her to a booth in the back and she passively obliged.

When it came time for me to take her order, (I was somewhat anxious to understand the language this strange lady spoke) she looked very confused, as though the food she desired would appear rather than require me to get it for her. I guess in a way that's probably what most customers wish - get rid of the middle man. Let a computer and a conveyer belt do it. I'm not at all offended by this implicit wish, by the way...

I decided to help out by recommending some things, one of which she eventually pointed to, mumbling something undiscernable in my ears. I bent low to hear, and out sprouted the mildest but slightly deranged, southern bell. Tinkle tinkle tinkle. I nearly fell over I was so close to her mouth.

The rest of our passionate sexual relationship passed with silent glances from across the room as I asked with my clownish face if she was enjoying her time, and her food. I let her take all the time she needed. Finally, I gave her her bill to which she regarded me again with such a profound questioning glance. I told her: You. Pay. Me.

When I brought back her change there was no smile - she only toted her little transport out the door. I went to the table to find no tip, and realized that crazy Ms. Bloomfield didn't want me in her neighborhood, and as I yelled a strangely forlorn goodbye, I realized was okay with that. I think I'm going to find a new job.

And the Verdict...

2008-04-15T21:51:00.000-07:00

Tonight about summed it up for me. I cried... like a little girl.

David Archuleta - When You Believe - Final 7 - 04/15/2008

2008-04-15T21:50:00.001-07:00

David Archuleta

2008-04-12T21:29:00.001-07:00

I can't believe I'm blogging about this. Why am I compelled to write about this person? Weird feelings are creating sludge in every crevice of my body consisting of two main ingredients: Embarrassment, Obsession. Maybe it's because I'm still not over the fact that I didn't even make one successful audition happen for this stupid show that is taking over my life. Little Davey Archie is either the object of love or hate for me and I really can't decide. Love, because his awkwardness and lack of self-confidence (personality traits which I see in myself) have not kept him from being safely assured success. Hate, because his awkwardness and lack of self-confidence (personality traits which I see in myself) have not kept him from being safely assured success.

I have to work this out. It's stressing me out. I'm on the couch - I'm gonna start talking to myself. You're the shrink.

Last week, after singing Angels to which a million pre-adolescent harpies sang in chorus with Archie playing the pipe, I witnessed America's obsession with innocent boy stars sometimes known as pedophilia. So he's good. Fine. Didn't everyone fall in love with him when he sang Imagine? Don't INTERRUPT ME! So I've already spent a total of WTMT (Way Too Much Time) watching his vids on youtube. So I will be the only guy going to his concert next year, and I'll hold a big picture of his face up to his face with a big pink bow. So, if I see any of his other "supposed" fans I'll kick their ass. So I'm 10 years older than him. whaaaat?

Now that I have those little confessionals out of the way, it's time to give you a singer's perspective on Boy Wonder. A PROFESSIONAL opinion.

He's a little bitch.

In all seriousness and the boredom which that implies - I think he has a soulful, beautiful voice. His appeal, however, seems to be more in his naivete and shyness than anything else. He is awkward and soft-spoken and kind to the point where you either want to adopt him or punch him in the face until he punches you back, which he will never do. Barring perhaps his performance of, "You Better Shop Around" His voice is always daisies, butterflies, and little white roses - it's never raw, fun, and it's never going to kick my ass. Most of the songs he chooses to sing are inspirational, message driven songs which get old after awhile. Of course he's going to kick Idol's ass this season (most of the votes will have my caller ID on them) but like every boy idol from the 70's Leif Garrets etc... he's going to have trouble becoming anything more than a 13 year old girl's "first-kiss" obsession - unless he can pull out a moonwalk.

Bitchy Girls

2008-01-16T23:31:00.001-08:00

I have some anger management issues that have been surfacing for the last few years. Tonight, it took place at Table 2 with a bunch of we'll-call-them ladies who might have been pretty except for a disposition that immediately helped me to realize how unwelcome I was in their presence. Being their waiter, I maintained my composure and gave them their choice of seating. My mind floated off to a prayer I had said that morning asking God to give me the strength to serenely accept myself and others as they are. I took their order, they ate their dinner while they gabbed on and on about God knows what, and by the time they were finished I was feeling satisfied with my magnanimous poise. Maybe it was the coconut milk they were digesting, but when I stopped by to ask them if they were interested in desert, 2 of the "ladies" both no older than 15 began to laugh in strange harpy like tones before requesting that I enumerate the desert items. I did so as the laughing grew significantly more obnoxious and 1 of them hid her pretty face under the table. My mind instantly raced to the day of my conversion to Christianity where kneeling before the altar I wept like a newborn baby out of the womb for the sin in my heart I knew was so great. I felt better, and decided to give them a couple of minutes to discuss desert since I thought I sensed their interest peak above the ominous, gray clouds. They did not want desert and coldly requested their bill, laughing as I left.

A very long story to illustrate why instead of allowing myself take their food away before they were finished, I merely punched them in the face. That's what a bitch needs - physical abuse.

No. That's not nice. That's Bruce talking.

Ash:

A little after Table 2 had left my presence, one of the wait staff adjusted my thai vestments saying that I looked like Pee-Wee Herman with the top button closed. Perhaps that was what they were laughing about. Maybe they WERE laughing about something less nice. I can't prove anything either way. I can give you 70% probability that these were some bitches in my hood.

Okay, so I might be able to blame bitchy girls for my homosexuality - I REALLY think a study should be done on the correlation between male sexual development and female adolescent behavior. Let's not get off topic, though. The vagina is an ugly enough organ without a woman's face complementing it's south american piranha like features. I know not everyone will agree with me there, but I think everyone will agree that there is perhaps nothing more grating to a man, woman, and child than a bitchy girl. I know they're probably just angry because of thousands of years of patriarchal domination (in this case surely a sexually abusive father) and YES, YES I know you're my boss and you're taking over the world but SERIOUSLY... there's nothing less attractive than bitchiness.

P.S. And, I know you don't care. Just remember - millions of little people underneath you like me can get really, really angry. The name of the game here is: People skills.

Missed Connections

2008-01-16T22:52:00.000-08:00

What did people do before ...? The quintessential question of the turn of this century. In this case, what did people do before Craigslist? I think Craig is a good man. Personally, I think everyone should force the pope to canonize him to sainthood. The world must have been such a lonely mess before Craig came along with his list. Not only was it a lonely mess - it was also a world where strangers with an attraction to one another but didn't have the balls to introduce themselves had no excuse. Now you can procrastinate and be an awkward, insecure loser (like moi) thanks to a little list called "Missed Connections." This way you have only a 99.9998% of failure to meet your one true love.

I'm addicted to this list. I think I secretly hope - although, not so secretly now (nervous laugh) - that I will be someone's missed connection. That someone will not have been confident enough to charge into the iron bubble which surrounds my space (that's a joke, by the way), but that I will have noticed their desire to do so and will be able to learn about it an hour later through a vague reference to the color of my t-shirt and a request to remember what color his/her t-shirt was.

Please read this and know that we are living in a time of Cholera:

"You're a friend of many of the people that I hang out with and therefore we've hung out quite often. So I suppose we could be considered friends.

I think that you are absolutely adorable and one of the sweetest guys that I know.

You have a smile that just brightens up my day.

I'm way too shy to ever tell you that I have such a crush on you and I know deep down that you wouldn't be interested and so I don't tell you because I don't want to be crushed. But I just felt the need to express how I felt in some way.

But anyway, you always make me smile with your presence. I just hope that you find the person that makes you happy and, above all, find happiness in your life."

Ah oui, c'est l'amour!

I, unlike the protagonist of our tragic love story here belong to a different category of literature in the "Missed Connections" section. Smut. Last weekend, I found myself doing the 20 something's thing of going to a bar, standing around in a circle with my friends in the least intimate environment known to man, and catching eyes with at least 10 people but never dreaming of talking to them. My mind instantly raced to search for the appropriate title for my first inspired post, You were staring at my penis at the urinal

"Hi there. You were standing a little close to me in the men's bathroom as I was urinating, staring at the wall in my usual discomfort of men's public restrooms - especially those belonging to homosexual establishments. I just wanted you to know that your staring made me very uncomfortable and that I will never sleep with another man again. Yours truly."

Oh well. We can't all be so lucky as Romeo, Sleepless in Seattle, or Pining in Pittsburgh as it were - but once in awhile you will read of a truly heroic coward who will be remembered forever for a love he kept silent.

Harry Potter : Dumbledore is Gay

2007-12-18T08:06:00.001-08:00

The best series I have ever read out of the 5 total books that I’ve picked up in my whole life. Don’t ask me how I know it’s the best, but please take my word for it because it has changed my life. In fact, I’ve taken such a fascination with them that I am now delving into the occult, not to mention consistently resisting authority and dropping out of school. Yep. And it’s all because of Harry. I remember when the first book came out – I can’t remember exactly how old I was because my life pre-college has been blotched out due the severe trauma that I sustained – all my Christian friends thought J.K. Rowling was an evil witch in the far away land of England who was trying to turn the world to witchcraft by printing holographic runes on its pages which would transmit a deep longing to communicate with Satan. I have to admit at the time I believed them, and I haven’t read the books until now which is (again) more reading than I’ve done in my entire life. Sad, isn’t it? My first time getting drunk (2 years ago) preceded me learning to read and think for myself.

The other day, I was perusing the internet looking for reasons to keep the raging fire alive, and I came across the website for the Concerned Christian Women of America. They seem to be a force of compassion in the world these days. On the website, I happened upon a radio broadcast made by some woman with a name that sounded vaguely like Martha GiantClitoris, and she was talking with her friend. Dr. Dickhead about a conference J.K. Rowling held where she announced to the world that she had always envisioned Albus Dumbledore (the man to whom I now pray) as gay. This was a source of enormous consternation to the both of them.

Please listen to the radio broadcast at http://www.cwfa.org and search "Dumbledore" at the top right hand corner. It's an old broadcast from October under the title: Harry Potter Headmaster "Outed" as "Gay" by Rowling

Besides the fact that I cannot think of anything more worthless to waste your time talking about, I had the distinct impression that Martha and her interviewee had never actually picked up the books that they were so passionately trying to debunk.

First of all, J.K. Rowling has a right to envision her characters anyway she wants. Last time I checked, she’s the author, which in English means that you have full artistic and creative license on your material. And, she’s really GOOD at it - being a billionaire and all. Maybe you should treat your superiors with respect, Martha. However, I’m not so ignorant as to have not done my research on Martha and Dick. I know they get their authority from a higher power, which is why they thought they could just raise their hands at the conference, “Excuse me, Ms. Rowling, MS. ROWLING – I didn’t know gay people even existed anymore. I mean, they all died out from AIDS 20 years ago while they were following the Village People. Why do our children need to learn about them? I MEAN, I suppose Dumbledore could be an ex-gay or something because you know we set up this really effective program for those people still wanting to be punished with AIDS.”

The following is an interesting video of testimonies brought to you by the people who helped to found Exodus International, the largest Christian organization for the sexual reparative therapy in the nation.

Secondly, it is not just a mark of sophistication in progressive circles that one accepts homosexuality these days: Everybody accepts me. Get with the times, Martha. Putting that aside, J.K. Rowling seems to know something about gay people and that is gay people are geniuses. Okay, so they’re a little off, but ALL smart people are weird. Don’t you remember your 8th grade math teacher? Mine was a freak. Brilliant. But a freak.

Take for instance the composer Tchaikovsky - who is coincidentally probably one of Martha’s favorites during Christmastime thanks to his hit single “The Nutcracker” - was a homosexual. The most beautiful music was created by a man who just so happened to have a irrepressible urge to dance to YMCA. I digress from fact. In actuality, he had a tormented life, which confined most of his sexual expression to the pages of his diary. Think about it. If the only way you could express love was through a perverse desire to do it with your own gender which would subsequently guarantee that you would be ostracized for the rest of your life and probably dead, bloodied, and hanging on a fence in the middle of the American wilderness, you would see life VERY differently. Being outside the norm makes us smarter, braver, and lonelier than you’ll ever be; the last of which is a reason we usually get judged by the church. So, maybe I’m just selfish but I think I would rather spend 3 hours a day trying to be a genius like Dumbledore rather than spending the same amount of time wishing I hadn’t jerked off, or denouncing homosexuality from my 2,000 member pulpit and being discovered at a gay bar, or wasting my time making a radio broadcast which will have no eternal significance whatsoever.

I’ll give you an assault on innocence
Amen.

Jesus is Magic!!

2007-10-29T13:08:00.000-07:00

A lot of conversations about him, lately. I like him. I haven't seen him or had a steady conversation with him but something/someone has always been in the background sending little surprise notices by air, land, or sea. I don't intend on making this post a lame apology for the existence of God because I've accepted the fact that even if I am wrong, I love what believing brings out in me, and maybe I just can't escape that paradigm. And, if that's not YO THANG, it ain't YO THANG SON.

Sometimes, I feel kind of lame about my faith, though. Let me tell you why: If I explain it to people, it comes across unreasoned, unresearched, asystematic, and completely based on ephemeral feelings. And, it is. I am like Sarah Silverman's Catholic boyfriend: I believe Jesus is MAGIC!!! About the only thing I could express coherently to you about God is a teardrop in my eye which might fall, but it would most likely remain stuck in my throat preventing me from saying anything stupid. And, depending on how you interpret the rest of the details of my sordid life, you might think I'm just a loony bin in need of professional help. The story and person of Jesus does make me cry, though. Apparently, those ephemeral feelings which I base such enormous decisions upon were unleashed like a tidal wave during the movie "The Passion" as I sobbed through the whole thing. Movie magic and reality don't seem to have a wall between them for me. Imagine what it's like when I'm watching Disney.

I saw this when I was 12, and I remember saying to Jesus that I wanted to feel exactly what they felt as they sang. To me, this was magical.

I know it sounds kinda DISNEY, but I believe He, also known as "my Fairy Godmother" gave something of himself to me that day so that I could feel what those singers felt.

As a side note, yesterday, as I was reading Harry Potter, I thought to myself, "How can Christians ban this?" "This has to be real. I know I could conjure the Patronus Charm against evil... because Jesus is MAGGIC."

But let's be frank, now. Should Jesus be MAGGIC to everyone else, too? Do I think that my belief in him is an example of strong faith? Please. Why else would I write this post? See, I don't know how he shows himself to everyone and that's okay because hopefully his relationship with everyone is kind of unique. You might think that's too individualistic of me, but I know people who would rather die than believe in a Jesus who believes in 6 day Creationism and wants you to sing lame worship choruses to him all day. Or, just don't understand why they should abandon their history and culture for a Judeo-Christian one. Especially, if Jesus is white. So, I really don't know if Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Life the way Christians interpret that, but I think he, wherever he is, whatever the hell he's doing, will make a way, give us Truth, and Life because he is Love and wants us seek true Love so that we can experience him.

Did I just turn this into an apology?

No Comment.

The Devil's Day

2007-10-27T22:16:00.001-07:00

Until this year, I had very nearly forgotten that Halloween even existed. I didn't realize until I stepped outside the Holy Ground of my former Alma Mater that it was that big a deal for grown college students to dress up and scare each other into having sex. So, three years after college you'll find me trying to relive the undergraduate life that was stolen from me. This phase could last a long time.

One thing has not changed. I've never enjoyed dressing up for Halloween. I thought about this long and hard during the drunken party tonight and I came up with a reason for this disposition. None of the costumes I ever tried on when I was a kid fit me. I'm not fat, if that's what you're thinking. The truth is, I'm just a very small little man. It's okay, I've grown to accept it - it's taken a long time, though. Even if I did like to dress up for Satan's holiday, no one would believe me, because Satan gave up on me a long time ago. He's just never been able to get me to convince others that I'm something I'm not.

The first instance that I can remember is when I was barely 3. I had a limp wrist. I was already showing symptoms. My mom confronted me about this. We even came up with a little signal so that I would know when my flamboyance was showing. We called it the Pink Flamingo. It was fun at the time, for me; I got a lot of attention. But I think it might have lasted a week as I couldn't shake the habit, and other expressions began to take its place. My mom gave up.

The second instance was in junior high school which is the time in every young American's life when they realize how fun suicide attempts are. Well, you wouldn't know that everyone else was attempting the same thing I was the way I looked everyday at school. Picture this: A very small boy for the age of 13, huge glasses that were the size of his face, hair that desperately needed cut every 5 minutes, long sleeve turtle neck sweatshirts, blue Urkel-ish corduroy pants barely reaching my shoes, and a name to make it easier for people to laugh instead of trip me in the hallway - ASSCOCK. Also known as "Ashok". It's okay, I've learned to accept it. I had friends who enjoyed telling me that masturbation was another word for studying. I also think they tried to help me fit in - I was nice. But they sort of gave up when my superlative at school became - "the coolest dork at Chiddix Junior High School".

Last example. This year in corporate America, the bastion of Truth and Justice in a world of lies, I learned the value of a poker face. Sadly, I was never able to make it work. One of my coworkers told me it might be better for me to come to the office drunk as I have a nervous laugh that always gives me away when I don't like something/someone, which is apparently all the time since I seem to do it whenever someone else is talking. I tried so hard to be calm inside; to keep the rage from erupting in that bubbly sort of way. It only got worse. By the last month of my employment, my boss thought I would enjoy cleaning the bathrooms in addition to wiping his ass. So, I left and Satan, yet again, gave up.

This is all fine because I know in my heart who Satan is and has been and who he has spoken through in my life, and as long as you know who YOU ARE behind the mask you wear in your halloween costume, 300 dollar prom dress, 800 dollar suit, your priestly vestments, or in your happy home with a happy family and a dog, it doesn't matter that I think you're Satan. But you ARE fat.

Ex-Gay

2007-10-21T08:53:00.000-07:00

Last night, I attended a birthday party for one of my friends in Pittsburgh. I had a great time as my mischievous intellect played dark little "Addam's Family" melodies in my head - perverting all that seemed good-natured. My secret pleasure of the night was meeting people.

Explanation: You see, not only do I have good gaydar. I also have good ex-gaydar. Ex-gaydar is when you can tell that someone hates their "secret" homosexuality, and I can spot them from hundreds of miles away. Ex-gaydar is actually not that difficult to acquire, because ex-gays are the easiest of all gays to notice. They are sad. Really. If you feel as though they are carrying something heavy, it is the weight of their disobedient penis. Or, you know, something else. Secondly, if you feel as though they are intentionally avoiding anyone, especially you, they're ex-gay because everyone knows gay people are fun, unique, and interesting*. So, if they don't want to get to know you, your presence is causing them deep emotional and intellectual distress. You = Rock On Which They Stumble. All these things considered, if they hold a high position in some christian organization, they're probably flaming for Jesus. Christians like to feel like they're doing ex-gays a favor. If these things don't work for you, all you need to do is apply to Exodus International, the largest Christian ex-gay organization in the world, go to one of their conferences, and watch in horror as hundreds of thousands of gay people are working very hard to keep happy gays from getting married.

The only room for error with ex-gaydar is that occasionally you'll come across two other kinds of people:

1. Gay christians who don't hate their attraction enough to keep from an occasional illicit romp on cloud 9. (Which happens to be a significant percentage of ex-gays anyway)
2. People who have opposite sex mannerisms who aren't gay at all: Ryan Seacrest (I'm still not convinced), Diane Keaton. These are the biggest threat to our society.

So, while I might have been wrong last night. Nevermind, I wasn't.

In truth, I really hope he's okay. I hope he's happy. And I'm trying to accept the fact that there are a lot of christian gay men and women who have found happiness outside their natural instincts. But then I think about all the people who don't believe in God and are gay - They're NEVER going to believe in my God. They're skrewed. What motivation do they have to change their sexuality? And what motivation do they have to accept Christ? Especially if changing their sexual orientation has become a prerequisite to faith in Christ. So, all this nonsense about ex-gay seems slightly pathetic to me, theologically.

Either you throw ex-gay theology out, and it's pretty nonsensical stuff, trust me, I've read it. Or, you throw God out.

And I've tried...........She's heavy.

Or, you have an epiphany and realize that Christianity predicated on Hellenistic models of logic is shit and you realize at the end of the night that you can get along with an ex-gay. That is all.

*Always be wary of anyone who does anything intentionally. It means they might be under the influence of the Imperius Curse. And we ALL know that the Imperius Curse is used by Lord Voldemort. AKA Satan.

Heaven is a Cloud in my Head

2007-10-16T14:48:00.001-07:00

So, you've all heard about my new job as a garcon at Thai Cuisine. I'm in Heaven. Thai heaven, and I'm finding myself a little unaware of my surroundings.

Within the first couple of weeks I began to notice my symptoms. Total ignorance being one of them. Throughout the restaurant, there are little shrines built to Buddha which my new Thai family will periodically pray in front of. Every morning before I started work I would notice little plastic cups of food placed everywhere, and for about 3 weeks I thought these were random little samples of our food placed throughout the store for customers to find and eat since they would all be gone by the time my shift was over. Like a treasure hunt.

It turns out I'm stupid. Buddha was eating them. OBVIOUSLY. I mean, he just couldn't help himself. And when I found out that these little treasures were an offering for Sidhartha Guatama, I felt like I had just done something worth being fired or divorced from my new family.

I like my new family a lot. Jook, Chai, Chye, Oy, Noy, Aw, Poo, and Lisa. I'm sure Lisa has a lot of abandonment issues. She's the nicest and most understanding when I periodically snap at the customers for no reason. I told her it's just a habit I've had since childbirth. She understands.

I'm also getting used to our regular customers and I'm realizing that Asian food has become synonymous with getting life exactly how you want it right down to how your tofu is fried. So many options. Makes me feel right at home. Home being a very confusing and distracting place.

The other day a 50-some yr. old lady came in who seemed to be talking to me in an eternal sigh of woe. I thought she was going to start crying but instead, when I asked her how spicy she wanted her Tom Yum soup, she told me condescendingly that she liked to "taste the food." This being code for not spicy at all. To which I replied:

"Are you making fun of me?"

"I'm Indian and we LOVE the taste of our food SPICY AS HELL!"

Yeah, some like it hot, bitch. She, of course, started crying. I, of course, calmly reassured her that she should get out of my restaurant. And this, of course, is a highly fictionalized experience created by my third alter ego, Bruce. We met in the year of the rat, apparently. He likes to remind me that post adolescence, every person discovers an enormous emotional void within and they spend the rest of their lives looking for a good spanking. This is obviously what Bruce was trying to convey to Ms. Woe.

What I also love about working at an Asian restaurant is how patronizing Americans are. One of our regular customers calls himself our Uncle Peter. He's a sweet guy who always comes in with his sweet wife and they always order their Beef Noodle Soup "Uncle Peter Style" - this being code for no noodles, cilantro, or carrots. Basically, nothing Asian. The first time I met him I was trying hard to think why he enjoys coming to this restaurant so much. I squinted my eyes at his order as though I were trying to decipher a theorem given at MIT. But I was really squinting my eyes to keep myself from asking him to leave in the flood of hysteria which was filling my soul. We're working on our relationship.

Anyway, that's all for now.

The Joy of Stevie Wonder

2007-10-15T23:05:00.000-07:00

I love this man. NO. I REALLY love this man.

Let me tell you why.

When people think of Stevie Wonder, you'll hear people say he is a musical genius, he shaped an entire genre of music, that CRAZY smile on his face (perfectly captured above). I love him for these reasons and more.

I look at the music industry with so much disdain. But it's not so much the music, it's the artists image the industry wants to market to the public. Take a look at any album cover, or music video; listen to any song, and you'll see an artist with that melancholy sort of hard-ass disposition on their pretty face. I guess that's attractive sometimes, but then lend your ear to their music and it's much in the same spirit. It's desire, it's love drama, poetry, it's about being strong or independent blah, blah, bllllaaahh. It seems happiness is out the door these days. I just get a little tired of feeling that music has become about a very defined lifestyle. A "rockstar" lifestyle entailing excess, always being a rebel, loving in a certain way, doing the wrong things and being depressed, tragic and adored. I guess it's not so great to just be happy. It certainly isn't as hot and sensational and okay, so I DO LOVE Jeff Buckley and the Smashing Pumpkins. Or, Billie Holiday, Weezer, Michael Jackson, and Mariah F-ing Carey. Brilliance. But then I heard Stevie's "As" and I knew that all the things that first made me love music: that pure joy could find a rhythm and a melody and a voice is the only way I can describe it. And it really clung to me. And I didn't see a reason to be sad anymore.

P.S. And I'm going to see him in concert on November 9th. The Wonder-Man's other fans better not trip. I ain' evn' playin child. I'm a be in da fuckin house like wonder bread.

Boston Fires

2007-09-03T13:52:00.000-07:00

My first real disaster experience, I think. Or have there been others? I ask myself. The problem is that in traumatic situations everyone responds very differently. My first night staying over at my friend Kathryn's house, some friends were over, we were cooking - frying clams - the oil got too hot and burst into flames burning the entire house to the ground. Kathryn and I were the only survivors.

Actually, it was minor. But the event I just described was how it felt. This is how I reacted to the flames.

I stared.

It's good to know how you will act in a crisis situation where quick thinking or bravery might be required - and I stared. A true martyr.

But little harm done. Just a moment of lucid self-actualization.

Thanks, Boston.

American Idol.... Again

2007-09-02T11:01:00.000-07:00

I know. I won it again. Who would've thought. The only thing is the judge didn't seem to agree with America and so I don't actually have the contract in my hand yet. Let me start by saying that the audition is the craziest experience a person could possibly have. Imagine this: You're driving down Broad Street in Philadelphia at 7am in the morning; just another morning rush hour in the city, right? But today is different. Rush hour is so much worse because there are 20,000 people trying to get to one building. What's going on? Drivers around you are dressed like Patti LaBelle (male and female), they're crying, they're dancing around, shaking the steering wheel like they want to take their car apart. This must be the Apocalypse... Or maybe another screening for "Independence Day." Only everyone is happy about it. No. This is American Idol. And everyone around you wants the same thing. Everyone wants to be a star. It's hard to believe until you see it... That so many people want the same thing. And so many of them would probably do anything to get it. Including ending up naked and cracked out on the street while other people go for practical things. Boring things. But attainable things. Like engineering.

So, everyday I go through the same conflict; trying to decide whether or not I want to be one of the millions of people in this country who wait tables, waiting for their ship with a little green boy who will take them to the second star to the right and straight on til morning. "I believe in you, Peter!!" Sex, drugs, expensive hotels, personal jets, tabloids... All of these are part of my dream for a better world.

So when the judge told me "no", engineering started to sound really great. And it always sounds better when you're not the one who looks like the blundering idiot in the tabloids the next day. But what REALLY sounds good to me and hundreds of millions of other people is turning their IPod on to hear someone singing their heart out about love, or loss, or being a kid, or what's wrong with world. And that's why I can't be an engineer, or a doctor, or a lawyer. It's not just because I think that I'm better than them while I smoke my crack and take sexual favors for their tired souls. It's because I have something to say. And I believe what I have to say means something special to our F-ed up little world. And everyone keeps a little place in their hearts for someone that F-ed up.

American Idol

2007-08-13T09:21:00.000-07:00

I tried out for it yesterday. I need to do more auditions. I never do them, but they're important.

So, I heard about the auditions as I was restlessly clicking through radio stations in the car, dissatisfied with all noise and yet dissatisfied with all silence. Pittsburgh was holding a "mini" idol try-out where the finalist would get to go to Philadelphia with a guaranteed audition for the actual American Idol tryouts. Whatever. You don't care. And neither did I really.

But I said to myself, "sure, why not." What do you know? They have the whole bandwagon of TV producers from Fox 53 airing this audition on TV. I nearly left. Fast Forward. As I waited to sing a 30 second snip of "Ma Cherie Amour" by Stevie Wonder, I realized how nervous I was. I had to pee. The auditions were open, so I heard all the other contestants (There were about 70). A few of them, I had pegged as winning singers. None of them made it.

The girl who won was indisputably beautiful. She had the perfect smile, and the perfect look. But when she went up, her voice was not exceptional. What more can I expect from the mainstream pop industry? At the end of the day, they have they're formula for success, and I can't begrudge them that even if I don't endorse some of those values.

I mean, sure they're going to take that girl and tell her she's nothing without bigger boobs. She'll probably never be able to sing how she wants to sing or what she wants to sing because this girl who sang "Amazing Grace" for her auditions will probably be strongly persuaded to write and sing about "Amazing Sex" for the world and then when everyone is done tearing away her innocence, she'll wonder what it all meant - and she'll feel violated even though no one has touched her. And then, she'll crash; she'll be in the tabloids for a few years; a total wreck and everyone will hate her when she really isn't so much to blame. Two possibilities then emerge, she'll realize that there is more to life than catering to meathead guys, glam-gays, and insecure post-adolescent girls and she'll start living the life she wants. Or, she'll continue spiraling downward.

Then again, that particular franchise might have died out already. They could make her more like Kelly Clarkson, or Beyonce. Don't get me started.

All I GOT TA SAY, BROTHA' is music should come from a person's soul, and a person's soul doesn't have to look or sound like anyone else's to be good.

Abrupt ending, I know. But I had to end it. I'm going to go listen to Beyonce's latest now.

What?

"World War III is being waged by stupid people"

2007-05-31T18:52:00.000-07:00

"Guess what I'm watching?"

You say: "What?"

"I'm watching The World Go Crazy."

"Oh. That's cool. Is it a good show?"

"No. I'm watching the world go crazy."

"OOh. That's cool....Is it a good show?"

.....

Actually, it is kind of hilarious. But I mean if you take your googley eyes away from the screen for a moment, it isn't such a pretty show. Because it's really happening.

So today, just to be kind of CRAZY'n all I'm going to comment on a blog that was commenting on another blog that was commenting on another blog. I'm a genius. Please read below RE: the crazies of the world.

The Tragedy of Heterosexual Parenting
Posted by Dan Savage at 2:55 PM

Over at Americablog John Aravosis has posted the complete text of a press release put out by Stephen Bennett, the sometimes spokesman for the Concerned Women of America—that’s right, the spokesman for all those concerned ladies. This particular press release is from some organization that I’ve never heard of—The Parents Group—and and it makes me want to go hunt through all the tubes on the Internets looking for more horrifying “Every Child Deserves a Mother and a Father” Slog posts.
Bennett has his panties in a knot because the White House released a picture of Dick and Lynn Cheney with their new grandchild, Samuel David Cheney. Little Sam is the first dude to see the inside of Mary Cheney’s vaginal canal in a long, long time—Mary is a lesbian, you see, and she had this baby with her lesbian partner, Heather Poe. And Bennett crapped his pants when he saw this photo and its caption on the White House’s official website:

His parents are the Cheney’s daughter Mary, and her partner, Heather Poe.

Says Bennett…

Heather Poe is Mary Cheney’s live-in lesbian lover. She may act like a parent, she may treat the baby as a parent, she may love this baby with all of her heart, but in this reality we all live in, Heather Poe is NOT the baby’s real parent. She has NO biological connection to the child whatsoever. Some man, the baby’s real Daddy, is the child’s other REAL parent….
President George W. Bush held several presses conferences calling for a Federal Marriage Amendment to protect the God-ordained institution of marriage between one man and one woman, while homosexuals pushed for the union of two men or two women to be equally recognized as real “marriage.”
However, the President’s number two, right hand man, Vice President Dick Cheney, clearly rebels against his superior, makes a public mockery of the President and the current Administration he is supposed to represent, and clearly holds to a different set of moral standards and beliefs.
When President Bush stood on the victory stage several years ago after being elected into office by values voters, Mary Cheney was on stage as well with her lesbian lover, Heather Poe. It was a slap in the face to the values voters who had just elected the duo into office. That wound has never healed.

I’m right there with you, Stephen. Seeing Mary Cheney and Heather Poe up on stage with Bush on election night 2004 made me burst a few blood vessels too. It pissed off every thinking queer in the country—but instead of being pissed at Bush for allowing those dykes to stand on that stage with him, we were pissed at those dykes for standing on that stage with Bush after Karl “My Daddy Sucked Cock” Rove’s gay bashing campaign.
But Stephen Bennett isn’t content to merely point out the hypocrisy of the Bush and Cheney families when it comes to gay rights. (“Gays we’re related to have rights, gays we’re not related to don’t.”) No, he has to haul out the every-child-needs-a-mother-and-a-father crap—and use the most slashing, hateful possible language.

While this little innocent child Samuel David Cheney deserves every fighting chance at life, the sins of two women, Mary Cheney and Heather Poe, have deliberately denied the Vice President’s grandson one of the most basic human rights of all: the right to a Daddy and a Mommy.
I say shame on the White House, shame on the President and shame on the Vice President for allowing such a caption to be “officially” added onto the White House website and such a beautiful photo of two happy grandparents and their new grandchild.
I guess we can tragically and officially say both the White House and Bush Administration have officially recognized the sinful sexual unions of homosexuals, as well as recognized and embraced the tragedy of the social experiment of homosexual parenting.

You can’t pick up a newspaper or turn on the television without being confronted by yet another tragic example of terrible heterosexual parenting. You want tragedy, Stephen? A heterosexual parent in Texas hanged her four children yesterday and herself. The foster care system is packed with children failed by their heterosexual parents—and many of these children are adopted by same-sex couples.
Samuel Cheney is going to be fine. Not only is his family wealthy and powerful, but little Sam benefits from the singular advantage that all children born to or adopted by same-sex couples enjoy: Sam is a wanted child. Gay couples can’t get drunk and adopt one night; lesbian couples don’t accidentally get themselves inseminated. While most opposite-sex couples that find themselves accidentally pregnant rise to the challenge and make great parents (mine included), a distressingly large number do not. That’s the tragedy of heterosexual parenting, Stephen, and its fruits are everywhere on display.
"Drug dealing dead holds children and wife hostage in filthy house for four years.
Vegan straight couple starves infant son to death."
"Mom and dad put two boys in cage and lock shock collars used by dog trainers on them."
"Mom mutilates baby boy’s genitals—cuts his penis clear off—while dad’s at work."
"Mom and Dad give baby fatal drug overdose—“a cocktail of pills, including Mylanta, Unisom, Zantac, Benadryl and Sudafed”—while on family vacation."
"Dad murders daughter by crashing his twin-engine plane into the home the child’s grandmother."
"Mom and dad use 100,000 volt stun gun on their 18 month-old son—again and again.
Susan Smith, Andrew Yates, Scott Peterson"

I could go on and on.

But, hey, I don’t doubt that children abused, neglected, abandoned, and murdered at the hands of their heterosexual parents take comfort in knowing that they were abused, neglected, abandoned, and murdered by their REAL parents.
So pull your fat fucking nose out of the Mary and Heather’s business, Stephen, and look to the plight of children living in the Bible Belt. Child abuse, neglect, abandonment—the more religious a state, the greater the danger it seems to pose to children. What did Jesus say about eyes and specks of sawdust and great planks?

My Response

Dearest Dan:

I think your blog makes a good point. But it doesn't quite drive it home for me. I think the first point you made was better. Watch and learn:

Dear Stephen :

As you are the spokesMAN for the Concerned Women of America, it is incumbent on me to remind you that you are a Christian man and as such the Concerned Christian Women of America do not have a voice in the spiritual and ethical matters upon which you expound. In fact, it would be totally appropriate for you to silence all of your constituents at the pulpit. Please read the inspiring words of our Lord Christ through Paul’s larynx...

As in all the congregations of the saints, women should remain silent in the churches. They are not allowed to speak, but must be in submission, as the Law says. If they want to inquire about something, they should ask their own husbands at home; for it is disgraceful for a woman to speak in the church.

Did the word of God originate with you? Or are you the only people it has reached? If anybody thinks he is a prophet or spiritually gifted, let him acknowledge that what I am writing to you is the Lord's command. If he ignores this, he himself will be ignored.[i]

1 Corinthians 14:33-38

Yes, Paul. Amen. Women talk way too much in our churches (and in general, if you know what I mean). Praise God!

But Stephen, excuse my headache right now, I find your article kind of complex because I'm not sure I understand this whole bit about family and the Bible:

“Mary Cheney and Heather Poe, have deliberately denied the Vice President’s grandson one of the most basic human rights of all: the right to a Daddy and a Mommy.”

Said Christ :

>"If any man come to me, and hate not his father, and mother...he cannot be my disciple." (Luke 14:26)

I know, I know. You have serious CONCERNS about my interpretation of our Holy Book so I'm going to let you teach me.

Who is the most important figure in the Bible?

You say –“Jesus, the Son of the One, True, Living God.”

If you had to summarize what Jesus came on the earth to do in one sentence, what would that be? Let's make this multiple choice.

A. Die for the sins of the world and be raised in glory on the third day.
B. Show the world the love and forgiveness of the Father
C. Hang out with the widows, needy, the helpless, the wretched, the sinners and befriend them
D. Perform wonders the world had never seen
E. Condemn the Pharisees for making it difficult for others to come to God
F. All of the Above

Thanks for that reply, Stevie. I think we’re becoming friends, don’t you?

I'm still a little confused, Father Bennett: Why is David from the Old Testament in the Scriptures (which are of course, inerrant, infallible, and perfect in every way) saying that it is good to kill innocent babies here?

O Daughter of Babylon, doomed to destruction,
happy is he who repays you
for what you have done to us-

he who seizes your infants
and dashes them against the rocks.

-Psalms 137:8-9-

Should we kill the Cheney baby too?
Concerned women of America? What do you think?

I mean, I guess we should since:

"I have found David the [son] of Jesse, a man after mine own heart, which shall fulfil all my will."

Acts 13:22

Oh Steven, I don't understand the language here. Where is the family in this book? WHERE IS THE FAMILY????!!!!! The premise is all over the place. All in all, the message is just confusing and I just want to say - so are you and all Christs followers.

Have a CRRAAZZYY day my brother :)
Ash

P.S. If you really want to be friends. Please remove log from eye as per Dan's request. Instructions:

http://www.wikihow.com/Be-a-Better-Friend

I will read these two:

http://www.wikihow.com/Deal-With-an-Insincere-Friend
http://www.wikihow.com/Deal-With-a-Condescending-Friend

I Think I'll Become a Circus Clown

2007-03-13T20:47:00.000-07:00

I was at work today trying to go about my daily tasks with some enthusiasm, maybe a little vigor. But not even the beautiful march day could keep me from falling all over myself, metaphorically speaking. And then a horrifying thought was born in my degenerating mind: What if we lived in a world where you weren't allowed to make mistakes? And certainly not the same mistake over again. I immediately started to cry.

I was typing up stock certificates - it seems to have become my lot in life - and the typewriter clearly hated me because the backspace function decided to stop letting me make mistakes and the typewriter kept misunderstanding my keystrokes. What would life be like if you couldn't erase the past? And I realized. You can't. That's the world we live in.

People might forget. MIGHT. *nervous laugh

You might decide to get selective amnesia, but other than that you're screwed. That's why people who seem to have it all together make the rest of us hate ourselves. But what if you're okay looking like an ass? What if after you do something truly asinine your ass-face decides to smile. I just thought I'd leave that picture with you.

You can keep it. Always.

2007-02-18T06:56:00.000-08:00

"Nobody tells someone praying that they are not being heard."

-ACN-

My Sister, the Prophet

2007-02-17T21:25:00.000-08:00

"Well, Jesus. If you're not coming back tonight, I'm slitting my wrists."

"We need to come up with a system. I need a date."

-KJN-

How I feel about 750 Billion Dollars

2007-02-06T15:27:00.000-08:00

First of all, I would like some. Secondly, I hope it has occured to people that since the mid-term elections, We the People of the so-called United States of America have finally been receiving the memos on how much one man's jihad is costing us for thousands of years of armageddon to come. I'll let you decide who's jihad I'm talking about but consider "all of the above" more carefully on this exam.

Note: I think the Crusades failed, didn't they? Yes. Yes, they did. And even if they hadn't, people would never dream of being so ignorant as to celebrate them today.

So, what are we so-called free people of the world going to do? Our last president lied to us about personal issues, and our current president lies to us (and most likely to himself) about how his day was at work. "You know, Laura, I think things are really looking up for us. We lost a few hundred of our own guys out there today; lost a couple thousand Iraqis, but I really think we're having a great impact, and I just don't see how these terrorists aren't going to see the light in the next couple of years. I just know they're going realize that, hey, we're not reading our holy books correctly and we should be loving our Shia brothers and helping them to build a strong Christian I mean, Muslim democracy."

Aww. That's great, Georgy.

It's amazing. Two leaders who, on the moral spectrum, might be considered entirely different from one another by their constituents, are morally in fact the same. Liars.

Poor Bush-man. Maybe he just missed a few classes in prep school on what democracy is, the job description of the president, other cultures besides middletoupperclass whiteevangelicaleveryoneelseisgoingtohellbutsmileatthem
andmakesuretheyknowhowfarthey
arefromheaven America.

How does 750 billion dollars feel? It feels like a lot of money. And it doesn't really matter if you have a system of checks and balances when you have that much money to make grandiose proposals on. I still want my money back.

Ann Coulter

2007-01-27T14:10:00.000-08:00

How have I not heard of this woman? Chances are that the grace of God saved her name from ever reaching my ears. Looks like His grace is no longer working in my life. Oh well. Who needs grace these days when you can murder people you don't understand in writing and be justified by God, the Church, Money and Fame all at the same time.

America is a silly little place in the universe.

I think it's a sad place. A place where people make war against people in every way but murder, and people love each other in dollars and cents and cheap words that sound like beautiful philosophies we could once believe in - which now we sell. I can't find anything to say that is truly meaningful in the language we speak, and I know the words I say from here onward will only separate us. I know that her words hurt me and she doesn't even know my name, but she seems to know a lot about me and how in my own feeble and hurt way I try to touch something real in my life.

All I'm going to say is that America is place where I feel God is dead. Not because we don't try, but because a true act of love does not necessarily contribute to the GNP. It is inconvenient and maybe not altogether sensational.

At times, I must admit that I've just felt that God was silent. I couldn't hear anything. No words, or magic; no bright explosions in my sky. I used to be uncomfortable with this. I wanted to know what to do, and for life to mean something. Not only that, I wanted proof that He was real. My world was unsafe and hostile without any certainty his presence.
Ann Coulter seems to have a lot to say about terrorists, as well as Bush. They also seem to have a lot to say about God as do most terrorists that kill in His name. On these grounds, I suppose it must make sense if you know a lot about God, and you know a lot about terrorists that you would do what you felt was right.

As for me, you may brand me an atheist and a liberal from this blog, Ms. Coulter, but no matter what act of terrorism you commit against me, I will go on with my life in peace and quiet. I will probably be unsafe from your harsh words, and your resolute certainty about God, but I will live quietly and keep my reservations about how much I know about people. And in the end, when I have shared a million precious quiet moments with the people I have been blessed to share them with, I will die silently in the quiet that is God.

Hope and Nipples

2007-01-12T23:29:00.000-08:00

I currently have about 13 posts sitting in my drafts folder waiting for publication. I need to finish this one, no matter what. Screw it.

I will be moving into a new apartment next weekend. After a couple of months of touring the desirable real estate in Pittsburgh, I decided that living comfortably on my own would be damned near impossible unless I could manifest Andrew Carnegie's fortune in my personal checking account. You can call an antique priceless, but unless you do all the needed restoration it's still a piece of shit. I don't want to live in a shit-hole anymore. Anyway, out of nowhere some friends offered to sublet one the rooms in their apartment to me. A blessing and a miracle.

New train of thought: Insecurity is a funny thing because that wonderfully warm security blanket that it wraps around you feels pretty good. Why not keep it on? Why should you have to face the cold, hard world of cold, hard nipples? I really want to know. Tonight was such a night. There are times when I'm in a group of people and I want to scream, dance around like madman, and perform wild acts of crazy love, because I'm afraid that everyone can see the plush blanket I am selfishly keeping all to myself. Selfish. I could share that blanket with someone, but that would obviously become sexual.

Anyway, this little analogy went too far.

I know everyone feels it. The nagging feeling that you are not interesting, or charming or kind. Obviously, that isn't our biggest fear. It's actually worse than that, because the feeling is that you are not as interesting, charming or kind as your friends. We keep our insecurities close don't we?

That's a cynical way to end this post and I would like for hope to be in fashion in a world with a leader who has led us into a war that will never end. :-D

I had to.

Here is the message of hope. Maybe some of us keep our insecurities close to better ourselves. I think that might be part of the little kernel of truth in "loving your enemies" that Christ talks about. Some of us may keep these insecurities close to us our entire lives, and never allow ourselves to admit how much we need to let our belly out once and awhile and laugh about it. But once you do that, you've taken a first step to being honest with yourself and taking off the blanket so you can stand on your own two feet butt-naked in front of. Well. Everybody.

(And look damn good doing it)

Perfect Circle

2006-12-02T13:45:00.000-08:00

I know it's sad when you have to resort to talking about the weather to make a conversation move along (much less a blog) but the weather yesterday was an exception. Let me paint the setting. It's 8 am. I walk out the door on my way to work and it's warm - about 70 F to be exact - but cloudy. During the course of the day, I watched in horror from my office as the weather went from rain like we haven't seen since Noah and the Great Flood, sunny and warm, and then that silly country of Canada realized it had an obligation to make our winter colder and sent us winds of 30 mph straight from Antarctica. I'm no meteorologist, but weather like this has to make a person wonder if the earth is revolving and tilting around the sun in a stable manner. That is a comforting thought. The earth wobbling and tripping over shards of... I guess cosmic dust (????) along its viciously round elliptical path to nowhere but the same place it was last year. Sounds as clumsy as me!

Children

2006-11-26T17:13:00.000-08:00

No matter how bad things get, they can always get worse. Of course, if you were to look at people starving in Africa, or say George W. Bush, that might not hold water. But these two examples I have just mentioned should have one thing in common which they don't. One of them should be taking more notice of the other. Can anyone tell me who that is boys and girls?

Speaking of which, tonight I had a thanksgiving potluck dinner with about 10 children from Somalia. I instantly realized how unthankful my thanksgiving has been as I stared at my plate of humble yum-yum pie. Which I had not helped to prepare. Which I was not helping to pay for. Which I was filling my belly with instead of foregoing to allow other hungrier peoples to eat. Which I was planning on finishing before expediently leaving the premises and company. All these things I continued to do and had no intention of stopping. But tonight I left with the knowledge of what is really important in life - a very trite thing in this country which is quickly dispensed with and forgotten only so that it can be front page news tomorrow:

There is nothing more important than seeing the next generation of little human beings fed and cared for. I cannot think of a more noble way to leave a legacy in this world than to secure the future of a child. Fortunately, Americans are taking increased notice of the immense poverty and violence in countries like Sudan and elsewhere. But not W. It seems unfair to bash him, and I get tired of feeling the repeated urge to do it, so in memory of the sweet and innocent children I was with tonight, I will resist the tidal wave inside.

All I have to say is that people who take planes and crash them into tall buildings full of people and call it a holy war are not worth my time, because these people don't want to fight a war, they want to murder people in the name of God and go hide with Him in the mountains. That is not a war. A murderer is someone who takes someone's life unlawfully, intentionally, and forcefully. A war is an armed conflict between hostile, rival nations. Ergo, Terrorists are a group of murderers. So how you view this war really has more to do with what your view of capital punishment is than war. Just so everyone knows, capital punishment was employed for hundreds of thousands of years and there were still murderers. I'm not saying it didn't help deter crime, but I don't think it eradicated human brutality from the world either. Also, I am loathe to remind everyone that these people kill us because they believe in the bottom of their bowels that we are evil. Somewhere out there/beneath the pale moonlight/Someone's thinking of me/and thinks I am a Nazi. I'm not sure how we can convince them otherwise, but I'm not sure killing all of them will be the most effective means. Then again, maybe we should fight that kind of war, I don't know. I am conflicted about the issue.

However, the point of this post is to juxtapose the two current needs of our time. It seems that a show of real heroism (which seems to be what Bush is about) would involve using some of our excess resources to feed and build up other nations, like Sudan. War is hardly something anyone will tout rejoicingly, no matter how necessary the conflict, wars are messy. However, we might alter the world's perception of us, and indeed terrorist perceptions of us, by giving some of our power to those less fortunate. A naive, idealistic point of view some may say, but perhaps not unworthy of consideration.

In any case, I'm moving to Canada.

Everyone Should Get A Divorce

2006-11-24T15:59:00.000-08:00

Divorce is a funny thing. Every now and then I like to think so. Let me show you how. I was sitting in the living room with my parents, soon to be ex's, and they were talking about money. It must be so nice to talk about how the money is going to be divided after years of making sure every expense was okay with your spouse. I sat with my parents for an hour just listening to the remnants of intimacy, and rolling my eyes for half of it. People should learn when it's okay to not talk to each other. Two people come together and make vows 'til death do us part and then the unthinkable happens, and well we found out that people are just not that strong.

So why does anyone get married? I think it's a fair question. Monogamy's role in this world is questionable when there are so many secrets to keep from the one and only love of your life. Like the time you flirted with that girl in the office and you couldn't help but stare at her ass for a couple of seconds longer than you should have. Or, how your man has the most annoying habits that you tell all your friends about, besides the fact that he has a small pecker. Maybe it's just me but sometimes I think the Mormons have something going for them. Of course, that's coming from a guy's point of view. Women can find their own liberation somewhere else. Ultimately, I think it's important for all of us to just relax and have sex. Make out til the break a dawwnn...Just gettt it on!!

This bitter diatribe towards matrimony comes at the opportune moment, right after thanksgiving. Black friday, I believe they call it. Thanks-give-me! :) That was funny Ha.

Ha.

Ha.

Anyway. My point. Boys and girls, you haven't changed since the playground. You've just gotten bigger everywhere. And when you get bigger, you want bigger toys to play with. And you want more of them. Boys you want the toys, and girls you want the fant'sy in your pantsy. Don't worry, this selfishness is only temporary. Soon you'll die and give all your shit to God. Apparently, fags win because they just want friends to die with when you kill them for wanting to play the same games.

So, what is my point? The answer to love is this: It IS game. IT IS A LIE. You ARE selfish despite your best intentions. I don't care how pure you were before you trespassed across that erotic line and touched your girlfriends hand. I don't care how unselfish you thought you were when you were "waiting for your man". You're spouse, boyfriend, girlfriend, midget is scum. They are whores, and they are worth your hatred. Sooner or later you'll find out how dumb the love of your life is. You'll wish they had a bigger pee-pee, or they kissed better, or that they weren't so stupid, or more charming and less abrasive.

That's The End.
What I don't have the answers. This blog is boring me.

So is love.

For the Love of Blog

2006-10-09T11:02:00.000-07:00

I know I haven't written a blog in awhile. I just don't feel like it anymore. My blog and I have grown apart, you see. It used to be that I would come to my blog, and I knew that I could tell my blog anything and she wouldn't tell anyone. I could be myself. Now, my blog has become a loud-mouthed bitch and everyone knows about my secret life. Hence, I feel less comfortable with what I have to say; my fingers trembling before every letter I type on the keyboard, my mind numb from the bitterness I have towards all blogs.

I am deserted.

Please, no more tears. Just hear my story.

*speaking to the orchestra* -"Maestro." "Crucifixus in D minor, please"

Fast Food

2006-09-21T17:23:00.000-07:00

Every now and then I crave those wonderful foods that make America a most special place in which to live. Any chain will do: McDonald's, Burger King, Wendy's, Big Boy. Those foods comprise two categories on the FDA's nutrition pyramid: fat lard and processed shit. And I love it like a pregnant woman on a bad day.

However, something has happened to our Fat Factories and I am concerned.

I guess it started happening in the last days of my college career. I was going to a little conservative college; a paragon of excellence and conservativism in a small town that was dying and in no way benefiting from the college's reputation or students. It was here where I learned to abscond in desperation to civilization from midnight to 4 o'clock in the morning; the only civilization within 15 miles of that black hole being Wendy's, McDonald's, and Sheetz.

One night, while I was happily preoccupied with my food, my eyes drifted off, landing on the cartons and bags that our food was being served in. After about an hour I was able to decipher the code:

"Do your fingers feel good? What happens when your fingers have had a hard
day and they just want to slide down into a hot bag and twirl around in a box of
french fries. Maybe they'll decide to twirl inside your mouth instead. So if you
feel the need to slide or twirl, remember to do it at Arby's."

One or two things are happening here: A lot of kinky fun in the Arby's marketing department that I should be having. And someone is getting PAID to have A LOT of kinky fun in the Arby's marketing department. Which I should be having.

Who is this man or woman or transvestite writing erotic stories as an advertisement for food? Are they having fun with themselves, the food, or someone else and the food? Can I come?

Fast food does not need to succumb to our obssession with advertising. Everyone knows when they go for a binge at McDonald's that their chance of heart failure has increased by 50%. Everyone! And those people who ate McD's everyday and sued them because they became obese had to have been orphans, because no child goes through life without a mother having tried to shove celery down their throats. Secondly, to equivocate food and sex is really juvenile, and so gross. I mean... Okay, so I've thought about having sex with peanut butter, and strawberries, and... alcohol but you know it just wouldn't work out... the 4 of us. We would definitely need a 5th.

So, I was dismayed when I lay myself down to sleep that night on my cold, stone-slab mattress. I tossed and turned, my belly unsatisfied, my mind racing with inappropriate fantasies of french fries and hamburgers. I was blue. Blue as balls.

"Lots of Good Drinking Around the World"

2006-09-16T12:13:00.000-07:00

I should be having lunch right now, because I'm starving, but who needs food?

I just got cable and internet installed in my apartment today. It's a small price to pay to lose your soul at $66 dollars per month. It's amazing, though, with access to that glamourous fabricated world, my ghetto apartment doesn't feel so ghetto. I feel home. Along with all my imaginary friends from Disney.

However, I am resolved to NEVER let them to have my cynicism. NEVEEERR!

I happened to read this quote yesterday on my coworkers desk, and I laughed because I knew the truth of it was impending:

Television is remarkable because it allows millions of people to laugh at the same joke and still be lonely.
-T.S. Eliot-

Somehow, I just know there is a God because, at the most random times, I can almost see him pointing his finger at me condescendingly.

Here is the REALLY interesting encounter with the divine for the day. The guy who installed my internet and cable came to my door early this Saturday morning. He was a big stocky guy who could wish me away with a dash of his magic finger -which was the size of my arm. What I love about America is that you can easily get along with everyone by presuming what stereotype they fall into and then talk about according subjects. We're all so predictably thoughtless.

If you know me, which you don't, you would know that Mr. T is the last person in the world you would see me hanging out with. So, I began talking about football and beer and hot chics I met at the bar last night. His eyes lit up like a fireplace, and I smiled with glee as I realized, again... how well I know people. Enough about me.

We were talking about this bar in Pittsburgh called the Sharp Edge, which is famous for importing belgian beers. Then he spoke these words, "Lots of Good Drinking Around the World." My eyes lit up like a fireplace, and feeling at one with the universe I said, "YES. There is."

Oh Jerusalem, do you realize how good life is with alcohol and pizza. No. You don't. And that's how deep the rabbit hole goes on Saturday Morning. Good day.

Super Crazy

2006-09-13T12:05:00.000-07:00

Ever since I started my job as an office manager, which is really just a glorified secretarial position (it's a little like being a well-groomed poodle), my life seems boring. I'm busy as a beaver, and I do a lot more than I ever used to on a given day, but none of it seems worth doing. I feel like I'm running around from one corner to another like a madman. And whether you get it done or not, you're still crazy, and you look crazy, an you feel crazy, and CRAZY CRAZY.

Listen to a story from Mr. Crazy. The other day I was trying to figure out how to get hot water from our water cooler. Maybe I'm a simpleton, but I couldn't really figure out why the lever for the hot water functioned differently from the one for the cold water. Well, as I came to realize, I'm not just a simpleton, I'm also stupid. I watched in horror as my boss, the CEO of the company, came walking into the kitchen. My hands are twitching, my eyes are searching wildly for something stable to stare at, I'm falling over myself like a man with serious psychotic problems. He's a nice enough guy, so I asked him if he could help me figure it out. He looked at me and smiled with that compassionate smile you give to people you love to make yourself feel better around. He then showed me how to twist the nob, push it in, and then down to receive God's miracle of hot water in the land of Egypt. While he did this, I put my mug underneath it so that as he was showing me he wouldn't spill anything, or something, or I'm not really sure what I was thinking, but he filled my mug almost to the top before he said, "Here, you can do this."

WOW.

I just made the CEO of the company feel like he had to fill up my mug for me. Mr. Crazy screamed thank you and ran away. Okay, I didn't do that, but I definitely said "thank you" a little too loudly.

Sometimes I wish I weren't so different. Why couldn't I be Mr. Nice-Guy, or Dr. Scary, or Jerk-face, or Boo-hoo Boy? They're all so cool, and popular. And I know there was a period of time in my life where I tried to imitate people I thought were cool, but the world became such a predictable place. So, I took off my suit, to reveal my super-hero costume (wearing nothing at all) and Mr. Crazy has been around doin' the crazy ever since. And his name is Ash Nayak.