<transcribed from willys notebook, last Sunday morning around 6am>
Time for a little long delayed ersatz didacticism-
Welcome, all my brothers and sisters to our congregation this Sunday morning- our reading this morning comes from the Gospel of TooL, the book of Aenima, Chapter 7 (Hooker with a Penis) verses 2 through 6. And the Gospel (Maynard) sayeth:
THE READING:
and in between sips of coke he told me that he thought we were sellin out, layin down, suckin up to the man. Well now Ive got some advice for you little buddy. Before you point the finger you should know that Im the man, and if Im the man, then youre the man, and hes the man as well, so you can point that fuckin finger up your ass. All you know about me is what Ive sold you, Dumb fuck. I sold out long before you ever heard my name. I sold my soul to make a record, dip shit, and you bought one. So Ive got some advie for you little buddy. Before you point your finger you should know that Im the man. If Im the fuckin man then youre the fuckin man as well, so you can point that fuckin finger up your ass
Thus sayeth the Band (all) AMEN!
THE SERMON:
This song came to mind now that I find myself struggling to defend myself intellectually, fashionably, and in conversation against the formidable mental, verbal, and haute couture onslaught of the 12 year old at work.
Wish I could take young (name deleted for confidentiality, I dont wanna lose my job) deep into the heavily tattooed and now fading recesses of my mind
Look here, young one, I too, was in a facility. Look there, grasshopper, Ive been called mentally ill too. Note that over yonder, little buddy, I also was so medicated that I didnt know why I did things, I just did them to get off the drugs. Now learn from me in this smoky abyss, I am your key to freedom, and more importantly, the key to your survival in this institution.
Sadly, he is 12, and as I once was too, at 12 no one understands you, no matter how much of your life theyve lived already. You know all, and dammit you will make your own decisions no matter how wrong they may be. Well, go on ahead then kid, dig your own hole, dig your own grave, tie your own noose, itll hang you in the end. Just remember, once, before you die, that I had some advice for you, and you chose to ignore it.
Amazingly enough, the only thing at work more interesting than the kids assorted maladies is the staffs neuroses and their failure to cope with them. Repeat after me brothers and sisters, I will not date someone I must work in close proximity to. Good. Now this too: I will not let my personal shit fuck up my working environment. Good.
Of course I understand that we all have times when the personal shit becomes too much to bear and spills over into everything else known as your life. Im not a total monster (though Im working on it). But like real emotion and a solid knee-disabling orgasm; if you fake these too often, people dont buy it when the real thing comes to town. Dont cry wolf, or better yet dont be a fucking drama queen youre pissing me off.
Have we become so entrenched in PC and sensitivity that it is now too much to ask for someone to do their job without complaint and over-emotional whining? Just do your job, handle your shit, and let me do the same without your pesky interference. How hard was that?
And now for something completely different:
In other news, while my desire to be in Portland grows at an exponential rate (flame not so much fanned, as had a gas can thrown on it by SG) my money to make this possible is attacked by vultures at every opportunity. Im gonna need a bigger stick to keep fending them off, or maybe just one of those riot cop shotguns. Film at 11.
My tattoo design keeps coming along a couple rough ideas are starting to congeal, who knows maybe someday soon it will all come together. Now heres Tom with the weather.
Bush is eyeing Syria and Iran like I used to eye Christina Ricci and Thora Birch when they were still attractive as opposed to anorexic. The idea of Baby Bush starting another war at this point gives rise to thoughts of fleeing the country again. Anyone up for setting up a SG colony outside the US somewhere? If London wasnt already in the Coalition of the Willing Id suggest there. How bout New Zealand? Stay tuned for tonights lottery numbers with the beautiful Wanda.
I was reading old journal entries, and hopefully this gets transcribed as I intend, and not relegated to the book, like all those other lost goodies. Although, if this is no better than some of those, I oughta burn it right now. Yeesh, I can write some shit sometimes.
And in closing, my brothers and sisters, we again turn our souls to the word of TooL, book of Aenima, this time Chapter 13 (Aenima), verses 2 and 3
the only way to fix it is to flush it all away, any fucking time, any fucking day, learn to swim, Ill see you down in Arizona Bay.
Thus sayeth Maynard (all) AMEN!
<end transcription>
Hrm, what to add? I finally got around to doing a real thorough cleaning of my room and its damn hot here today. 80 degrees, plus. Fuck. I went and lifted and rode the stationary bike for the first time in a long time last night, now my shoulders, back, pecs, and arms hurt like Ive got battery acid for blood. Mustve lifted a little heavy on the upper body, my legs are ok though.
Hmmm, family Easter this weekend, that oughta be about as much fun as seeing an untrained acupuncturist.
Easter means itll be the 2 year anniversary of Sarah dying. Wow, doesnt really feel like its been 2 years since Ive had a girlfriend. However it feels like way more than 2 years since Ive gotten some.
Well, Im about out of shit to say, I think Im gonna do some laundry and chill in the cool basement. Watch TV and veg out. Thats my update for this period of inactivity, more after I work a couple more days. Thanks to all of you who have commented, it encourages me that someone is out there.
Time for a little long delayed ersatz didacticism-
Welcome, all my brothers and sisters to our congregation this Sunday morning- our reading this morning comes from the Gospel of TooL, the book of Aenima, Chapter 7 (Hooker with a Penis) verses 2 through 6. And the Gospel (Maynard) sayeth:
THE READING:
and in between sips of coke he told me that he thought we were sellin out, layin down, suckin up to the man. Well now Ive got some advice for you little buddy. Before you point the finger you should know that Im the man, and if Im the man, then youre the man, and hes the man as well, so you can point that fuckin finger up your ass. All you know about me is what Ive sold you, Dumb fuck. I sold out long before you ever heard my name. I sold my soul to make a record, dip shit, and you bought one. So Ive got some advie for you little buddy. Before you point your finger you should know that Im the man. If Im the fuckin man then youre the fuckin man as well, so you can point that fuckin finger up your ass
Thus sayeth the Band (all) AMEN!
THE SERMON:
This song came to mind now that I find myself struggling to defend myself intellectually, fashionably, and in conversation against the formidable mental, verbal, and haute couture onslaught of the 12 year old at work.
Wish I could take young (name deleted for confidentiality, I dont wanna lose my job) deep into the heavily tattooed and now fading recesses of my mind
Look here, young one, I too, was in a facility. Look there, grasshopper, Ive been called mentally ill too. Note that over yonder, little buddy, I also was so medicated that I didnt know why I did things, I just did them to get off the drugs. Now learn from me in this smoky abyss, I am your key to freedom, and more importantly, the key to your survival in this institution.
Sadly, he is 12, and as I once was too, at 12 no one understands you, no matter how much of your life theyve lived already. You know all, and dammit you will make your own decisions no matter how wrong they may be. Well, go on ahead then kid, dig your own hole, dig your own grave, tie your own noose, itll hang you in the end. Just remember, once, before you die, that I had some advice for you, and you chose to ignore it.
Amazingly enough, the only thing at work more interesting than the kids assorted maladies is the staffs neuroses and their failure to cope with them. Repeat after me brothers and sisters, I will not date someone I must work in close proximity to. Good. Now this too: I will not let my personal shit fuck up my working environment. Good.
Of course I understand that we all have times when the personal shit becomes too much to bear and spills over into everything else known as your life. Im not a total monster (though Im working on it). But like real emotion and a solid knee-disabling orgasm; if you fake these too often, people dont buy it when the real thing comes to town. Dont cry wolf, or better yet dont be a fucking drama queen youre pissing me off.
Have we become so entrenched in PC and sensitivity that it is now too much to ask for someone to do their job without complaint and over-emotional whining? Just do your job, handle your shit, and let me do the same without your pesky interference. How hard was that?
And now for something completely different:
In other news, while my desire to be in Portland grows at an exponential rate (flame not so much fanned, as had a gas can thrown on it by SG) my money to make this possible is attacked by vultures at every opportunity. Im gonna need a bigger stick to keep fending them off, or maybe just one of those riot cop shotguns. Film at 11.
My tattoo design keeps coming along a couple rough ideas are starting to congeal, who knows maybe someday soon it will all come together. Now heres Tom with the weather.
Bush is eyeing Syria and Iran like I used to eye Christina Ricci and Thora Birch when they were still attractive as opposed to anorexic. The idea of Baby Bush starting another war at this point gives rise to thoughts of fleeing the country again. Anyone up for setting up a SG colony outside the US somewhere? If London wasnt already in the Coalition of the Willing Id suggest there. How bout New Zealand? Stay tuned for tonights lottery numbers with the beautiful Wanda.
I was reading old journal entries, and hopefully this gets transcribed as I intend, and not relegated to the book, like all those other lost goodies. Although, if this is no better than some of those, I oughta burn it right now. Yeesh, I can write some shit sometimes.
And in closing, my brothers and sisters, we again turn our souls to the word of TooL, book of Aenima, this time Chapter 13 (Aenima), verses 2 and 3
the only way to fix it is to flush it all away, any fucking time, any fucking day, learn to swim, Ill see you down in Arizona Bay.
Thus sayeth Maynard (all) AMEN!
<end transcription>
Hrm, what to add? I finally got around to doing a real thorough cleaning of my room and its damn hot here today. 80 degrees, plus. Fuck. I went and lifted and rode the stationary bike for the first time in a long time last night, now my shoulders, back, pecs, and arms hurt like Ive got battery acid for blood. Mustve lifted a little heavy on the upper body, my legs are ok though.
Hmmm, family Easter this weekend, that oughta be about as much fun as seeing an untrained acupuncturist.
Easter means itll be the 2 year anniversary of Sarah dying. Wow, doesnt really feel like its been 2 years since Ive had a girlfriend. However it feels like way more than 2 years since Ive gotten some.
Well, Im about out of shit to say, I think Im gonna do some laundry and chill in the cool basement. Watch TV and veg out. Thats my update for this period of inactivity, more after I work a couple more days. Thanks to all of you who have commented, it encourages me that someone is out there.