Bliss In Concrete: Part II

Harold was sitting on Kagney's leather couch with a glass of liquor in one hand and her breast in the other. Kagney slipped off her's and Harold's clothes and threw them onto the floor. Harold put down his drink on the coffee table without a coaster. What happened next would haunt Harold for years to come. If only he had denied Kagney's proposal. Then he would have never gone to her apartment. He would have never committed adultery. He would have never betrayed his wife, or his future children. He would still have a home, and a life worth living.

Harold now spends his days perched at the end of an off-ramp of a small highway in a small city. Occasionally a kind soul will hand him a few dollars or change. Whatever they can spare is good enough for Harold. He doesn't use the money anyways. The reason he stands on that slab of concrete all day is to observe people. Their reactions are, for the most part, scornful glances, or total dismission. There are also times where he is attacked by people throwing change, either to be funny, or to make Harold feel worthless. Every night after his daily encounters with the humans, Harold goes back to his cozy room in the top corner of the overpass and writes about what he experienced that day. Harold has notebook upon notebook of each daily happening for the past 35 years. His dream is to one day collect all of his writings and present them to a prestigious publishing company. They will offer him a book deal, and he will be able to support himself again, and be worthy enough of facing his children. This day will never come. 2 years later Harold was walking down Main St. late at night after a good day of observing. Harold started to have a heart attack, and he fell into oncoming traffic. His notebooks were found by a group of bikers waiting out a storm under Harold's overpass. They took the notebooks and threw them into a lake near the bridge. Harold was forgotten by that city. His ex-wife. Kagney. His children. Even the driver of the vehicle that he was crushed by. Forgotten.

Bliss In Concrete: Part I

Harold is 53 years old. He is homeless. Most nights when Harold sleeps under the bridge up in the concrete nearest to the road above, he dreams of when he was able to hold his children in his arms. It seems like just yesterday Harold was driving his kids to the park to throw a football back and forth. Simple events like this Harold used to take for granted, but now he misses them so much he would give anything to be able to relive those memories. Trouble is, he has nothing to give. Other times he dreams of his ex-wife, Jeena, and how after a year of marriage he despised her, and would do anything in his power to avoid the woman.

The ex-couple met in High School. They were sweethearts throughout Junior and Senior year, both being in the same grade, and of the same age. They were married and moved in with each other the day after graduation. In a small apartment just outside of downtown. Harold worked at a local restaurant as a dishwasher and Jeena, a receptionist for a telemarketing company. The first few months of their marriage was great. Laughing and joking every minute they were together, and even though they barely made rent each month, they were truly happy together.

One night after closing at the restaurant, Harold went to a bar to get a buzz going before he got home to Jeena. Harold has been having stress problems lately due to his job, where he works 12 hours days, everyday, to keep up with rent. He has been occupying a stool at the bar everynight after work, for the last 13 days, and doesn't seem to be letting up.

While sulking over his underpaying job, Harold looks to his left and meets eyes with a tall blonde woman. She has big, powerful brown eyes, and a leopard print mini skirt, hiked up just enough. The woman starts smiling. Harold nods, and smiles back. "Hello, I'm Kagney." "Hi Kagney, I'm Harold." "Hi Harold." A few minutes pass by with the two of them in silence. Then Kagney breaks the silence. "Now, what is a good looking man like you doing in a run down bar like this one?" "Well, Kagney, I could have asked you the same thing." "I guess you're right." Harold is now on the verge of falling over. Way passed his goal of a slight buzz for the trek home. "Are you a married man, Harold?" There are several ways to answer this question. Due to Harold's present state, he doesn't have the best mind to decipher which answer would yield the best result. So he blurts out, "Nope." "That is certainly not a bad thing. Especially tonight. How about we head back to my place and have some more drinks?" It has been several days since Harold has been intimate with Jeena. She was informed a few months back, that she is pregnant with twins, and is either planning on how to baby proof the house, or figuring out a budget to allow for extra money to be spent on baby essentials. (e.g. diapers, baby wipes...etc.). Harold needs to let out the stress that has been piling up at work and at home, and what better way to do so, than fucking a stranger. No strings attached. Harold agrees to accompany Kagney to her apartment, under the circumstances that he stays no later than midnight. It was 10pm.

Sitting on a bench at the end of the world

There we were. Sitting on a bench at the end of the world.
Nothing could stop us. We were immortal.
So many stars in the sky above us.
We sat there for hours through the night.
On the bench at the end of the world.
The next day I called to see how you were.
You didn't answer.
I went to your house to see if you were OK.
But your weren't alone.
Another boy was holding you close.
Like we were last night under the stars and the endless black.
Looks like I'll be sitting here alone tonight.

Higher Laws

"Is it not a reproach that man is a carnivorous animal? True, he can and does live, in a great measure, by preying on other animals; but this is a miserable way-as any one who will go to snaring rabbits, or slaughtering lambs, may learn-and he will be regarded as a benefactor of his race who shall teach man to confine himself to a more innocent and wholesome diet. Whatever my own practice may be, I have no doubt that it is part of the destiny of the human race, in its gradual improvement, to leave off eating animals, as surely as the savage tribes have left off eating each other when they came in contact with the more civilized."

Henry David Thoreau
Walden

My usual friday night

Sitting in my room listening to music. Surfing the net. Reading books. I don't hang out with anybody really. Here's some words to fit the mood:

Sometimes I wish I could just go away
Leave all these petty belongings
No more small talk
No more drivel
I want to live in the woods
Away from everything meaningless
And close to everything meaningful
This constant competition to get through life
It's not for me
Don't bother me with your money
Your "news"
Your lies
Your politics
Your celebrities
I want complete isolation from your life
An open sky full of stars
and birds
and everything but you

Ur Moshin

"They're not my first choice, but if it comes on I'm moshin'."

M.C. Cantwell

(referring to Ramallah and nu-No Warning)

The new

Russian Circles is almost as good as the new Maximum Penalty...almost.

Bullied

When I was a kid, I never stood up for myself. There were many instances where I would be teased, or threatened and I would do absolutely nothing to prevent it. I don't know what was going through my mind, but I have never been in a fight, and never once did I yell back at someone or beat up someone in self defense.

I remember one morning in 6th grade I got on the bus at my bus stop to find all the seats taken. There were literally three kids in every seat except for the occasional overweight child who could only fit with one other kid. And if they were real big, they could only fit themselves. What I would have given to have been one of those real fat ones.

Now, back in middle school, I was around 5 feet tall, and husky. I call it husky because those were the style of pants that I wore. That one morning I was feeling perfectly fine. Not happy, not sad, just fine. As I walked down the long isle looking desperately for a seat before the bus started to move sending me to the floor. I spotted a bench with two fairly skinny black kids in them. Their bench had the most amount of extra room on it, and I figured I would be able to squeeze in without much trouble. I was wrong. "Can I sit here?" "Fuck no." "Come on. There aren't any seats left." "Go find another seat bitch." I gave the sea of pre-teens another scanning. Nothing. The only place where I would have any space to sit was right there with the two skinny kids. So, I sat down.

"Get the fuck up whitey!" "No. There isn't anywhere else to sit." A few seconds pass, and I figure that they accept the fact that I have nowhere else to go. Right when I think I'm home free, I feel four hands on my side and face. They shove me out of the seat and I hit the floor. Someone yells from the back. "Hey, leave that kid alone. He didn't do nothin'!" "Fuck you!" "No, fuck you!!" I sat on the floor with tears in my eyes until the bus arrived at school.

Justice

Just the other night, I awakened from my deep slumber to the sound of a cat scratching at the base of my bed post. I threw back the sheets and hopped out of bed. But to my amazement, a cat I did not see. A blue figure, disproportionate in shape, with arms three times as long as it's legs, and with a head the size of a unripened cantelope, black eyes and what seemed like scars covering it's whole body. As I crept closer, inch by inch, it's eyes turned to meet mine. After peering at me for what seemed like an eternity, it let out a shriek, like nails across a chalkboard, or rusty brakes on an old station wagon. I drew back behind the door, with only my silhouette showing. And as the figure continued to scream, I began to decipher it's howl. "TUI Til I Die!!!!!"

New Maximum Penalty

is ridiculous...

Past few weeks

Since I have been back from tour, I have done next to nothing. I have been looking for a job ever since and have had no luck. There were a few places that have said they need help, but I must not live up to their standards since they haven't called back. Next semester you'll be seeing me back at DSC for college. I don't know what for yet, but it doesn't really matter. I'm only in one band as of right now, well, one legitimate band, which is weird since I'm used to being in two and playing shows all the time. There will probably be some new projects starting up soon despite my return to school. I will also be attending the fest this coming October with some friends, and that should be a good time. First time seeing 7 Seconds, Samiam, Snuff, and Polar Bear Club. If you don't know me too well, you should know that Raised Fist is my favorite band, and they are coming to the U.S. soon so I will be obsessing over that whenever you see me. I started running regularly last Sunday and am working up a siqq tan for the fest. You should be seeing a lot more posting on this blog since I won't be doing a zine for a while, due to my being unemployed. Short stories, long stories, thoughts, and experiences of my life, and made up lives. Bye for now. There Will Be Blood is on.

-T.B./Total Recall

In case you haven't heard...

Patrick Swayze was a good man. Some of you might know him as Dalton, a no-bullshit, tough son of a bitch bouncer from the good old south. I knew him as a friend, and fellow badass. We would often stay up late together watching re-runs of I Love Lucy and MASH while eating un-popped popcorn and drinking whiskey like no tomorrow. But sadly, those times are over. After I found out about his untimely death I decided to pop in Road House for old times sake. What a fucking great movie that is. Mr. Swayze had a good run. He will be missed.

Miss you buddy,
"Pain don't hurt."
-P.S.