Alone

Fear solitude... it shows you who you are,
which is something only a very few people can survive.
I am alone.
I have been so before.
Am I lonely?
Yes... but only when I am with other people.
Sometimes it makes me feel like I've given up on the human race.

As Bukowski explained it:
-----------
NOTICE

citizens of the world
I renounce you.

I have
long ago.
but this is a formal
notice.
me against
you.
a restraining
order.

fuck off.
dry up.
vanish.

don't come to
my door
with pizza
pussy
or offers of
peace.

it's too late.

the music has
frozen in the
air
castrated by the
absence of your
presence.
-----------------

The only quality I really admire anymore is courage.
Courage to be emotionally and intellectually honest.
Courage to brave the solitude
and truly face the self.
If you can do so and still crack a joke,
you are alright in my book.

Fear and loathing in Denmark,
Part deux.

The distant, melancholy sound of a train setting off
for parts unknown.
Railroad tracks.
Railroad tracks stretching to the blistering horizon,
is what I see when I think of you.
Railroad tracks, birthday cake and crushed knuckles.

Our love was but a brief stay-of-execution.
Your cousin and your brother tried to kill me,
and even though they failed, they came far too close.
Not only was I a worthless westerner,
I didn't even believe in any celestial configuration
of the wayward western pantheon.
My hands still show the scars I got closing the fresh wounds
with fire.

But I saw and sated you...
And received more in return that I could ever deserve.
I gave you my farewell on my nineteenth birthday,
slinking of down the newly paved road, heady with the smell of freshly molten asphalt and lost in a dream of what would and will never be.
We both deserved so much more.

Those who know love best,
are those forever scorned.

Fear And Loathing In Denmark:
A Savage Journey Into The Memory
Of A Maniac. Part 1.

(ca. 8-10 years ago)

I was just walking into the classroom, when the drugs started to take hold.
My teacher seemed to be alternately swelling and contracting... like her body was in the grip of some fearsome flesh-molding tide...
and her face seemed to be melting... a puddle of purple wax.
Conjugating Latin is never easy, and if your breakfast consists of acid and martini you've got an extra handicap. Nonetheless, I passed the exam. Which, of course, merited a celebration!
So there I was, later that night, feeding a pet pig, who's fur I'd just dyed, pork rinds, while listening to the Velvet Underground's "Sister Ray" blasting out of the huge speakers hung in my new girlfriend's apartment.
Suddenly my girlfriend, let's call her Jane, says to me, outta nowhere:
"My ex just got out of prison today. He might show up".
I stare at her, not quite sure what to say, when there's a knock on the door. I laugh out loud at the absurd timing, but Jane jumps up, frightened, and turns down the volume a bit. Then she sort of tip-toes to the door and opens it, keeping the chain on.
Words are exchanged, but I can't make out what is said.
Then the door is kicked in, and this big, hulking brute stomps in,
glances around, and zooms in on me.
"Great", I thought, "Here we go".
The beast approaches. He stands looking down at me.
I remain seated on the sofa... pour another mix of chocolate milk and whiskey. He just stands there STARING at me, real intense, real potential-for-violence vibes radiating from him.
Then, finally, he asks, in the most raw anguished voice:
"Are you the one she claims to love now? Are you the new fly in her web?".
I raise my glass, give him a knowing half-smile, and drink.
He nods and sort of leans down to whisper:
"Don't get caught. Take it from me, jail is easier".
Then he squeezes my shoulder in a sympathetic way, turns around
and walks out.
Jane looks from me to the door and back again.
She gnaws her lower lip, then asks:
"What... what did he say?".
I point to the half-empty bottle and say:
"That I'll probably need a lot more of this stuff".
The pig grunted in agreement and I resumed petting him.
Never underestimate the wisdom of animals.

THIS IS NUTS!

Sometime in the near future I am going to have surgery.
I have something called hydro-cele.
Basically, fluids are filling up in the right side of the ballsack.
It is now the size of a fist.
I've always known I'm a ballsy guy, but this is ridiculous!
And I've gone and done a less than clever thing:
I've read how the surgery is performed...
which did nothing to soothe my nerves!
In the old days, they merely drained the sack with a syringe,
but since the dangers of infection were too great, and that
it wasn't a permanent solution, they've changed the procedure.
Now they make an incision, take out the testicle sack (STILL ATTACHED!)
drain and fix, then put the inner sack back in the outer sack and close up again.
Waaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!
Anyone wondering why I feel a bit nervous?
*shudder!*
The horror! THE HORROR!!!

Computer Games:
Why Do They Suck?

It is sad, but a fact.
The art-form with the biggest potential is having that potential wasted in large measure.
Most games are shoot this... and then shoot that... and then shoot...etc.
Which can be fun, in and of itself, but when that is almost all there is, it becomes a problem. Okay, then there's games based on sports, but why, really?
Why play a game ABOUT PLAYING A GAME?
You could just go play the real thing! But these games, Shooters/hack-and-slash & sports games seem to be a 90% majority of the market.Which is an awful shame, as computer games could be the ultimate form of art... an interactive one.No wonder that a lot of smart, mature people sneer and jeer at games, when all that seems available are merely colorful tests of hand-eye-coordination with little content.

Of course, there ARE good games, games that try for something more, that delve into studies of character and develop and tell real stories.
They're just few and far between...and when they ARE made, they are usually very niche-oriented.For example, one of THE best written games ever, Planescape: Torment,was not only an Advanced Dungeons & Dragons product, but also setin a sub-genre within THAT, the Planescape setting.
So a niche-within-a-niche.Not that you'd actually have to know anything about the roleplaying gameto play Torment, but it may SEEM that way to the uninitiatedand so may frighten them off, making them miss one hell of a well-wrought story.
The way that your "alignment" in the game (A sort of measure of one's ethics)is dynamic and changes to reflect your actions and statements isvery well done.I could go on for hours about this game, but that will require a post of its ownat some point.

Another great title is "I Have No Mouth And I Must Scream", based on the short-story by Harlan Ellison.You play the characters of the story,prisoners held in a weird subterranean world by the insane supercomputer AM (as in "I Am") who's destroyed therest of the planet, one by one, dealing with torture and mockery dealt out by AM.Plus, the characters all have something dark in their past they must deal withand which AM uses to ridicule and belittle them.The real shock, when you get to the end of the game, is thatthere IS NO WAY TO WIN... at best, there's an honorable way to die.The stories of the characters deal with the Holocaust, rape, murder and jealousy.Not subjects one would normaly associate with something termed a "game".But that is exactly what makes the game such an experienceand help elevate it to the level of actual art.That it deals with heavy issues and does so without apology or pulling punches.Also, Harlan Ellison himself was involved with writing the gameand even "stars" as the voice of AM. A superb experience.
Here's a link to Ellison's reasoning formaking the game:http://members.aol.com/blaksheepj/index2.html
Other great games I might rant about later:
Fallout 2.The Longest Journey.Vampire the Masquerade: Bloodlines.KGB (American title: Conspiracy)....................................
So why are so many computer games so imbecilic?
Well, why are so many movies? So much music?
Because people are imbeciles, that's why!
And that includes YOU.

Once More We Delve
(and devolve)
Into The Greatness Which Is Me!

Had my seventh migraine attack today, oh joy!
As if my life wasn't littered with enough obstacles and annoyments.
Like being fiercely unemployed (and unemployable) and poor,
being the bearer of a savage heart which always threatens to break loose of its cage o' ribs,
and generally being able to draw breath...
Luckily I had an inuit woman from Greeenland to massage my scalp.
Greenland is still, in some sense, part of Denmark,
so it is only natural that she should service me so ;-).
Seriously, though, she is one tough bitch, hard as nails, and funny as hell,
with a weird fetish for Danish police-force history.
(She's got a collection of DK Police riot helmets!... Which, I'm bettin',
get more exercise at HER home than they do in actual fact...)
We're such a placid, if not downright -lazy- country, that way.
A famous comment about our country is that: "The revolution was cancelled due to heavy rain".

In other, even -more- important news,
I'm close to being an e-mail cuckold in North Carolina.
K.... I adore, and adhere, to you.
Know this, if nothing else:
That as long as my over-exerted heart continues to pump a reasonable fascimile of blood
you will not go -unworshipped-.

P.S.
K.... I'm runnin' outta sap! How DARE you extract so much from me?


P.P.S...
Oh, yeah, there's also some martial arts fool with a waning hairline in California
who's continually trying to get me to grow up...
HAH! As if I didn't know he's the author of a book of PAN!