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February 26, 2006

dirty dirty boy

I wake up. It's morning (well, just before the crack of noon.)

Start playing on the computer. Which is what I was doing when I passed out well past midnight.

Designing stuff, writing, hacking away. I start wondering, "when was the last time I bathed?"

I'm wearing the same monkey hoody I've had on for, what, 2... 3 days straight?

4 days? No, not that long. Today's sunday, right?

This triple-glazed-donut feeling, that makes it about 3 days, I'm sure.

I'm pretty sure.

We'll call it "processing" so it doesn't sound as pathetic and crack-baby like.

Did Carl Jung ever make mention of a "Pig Pen" Archetype?

February 25, 2006

I AM PISSED!

I woke up a few minutes BEFORE noon today!

So I went and napped a couple more hours out of spite.

I'll show you, Natural Circadian Rhythm, you!

February 23, 2006

Lazy Bastard 101

A real good thing about being an oldster is if you spend one night out late cattin around til well past dawn, you make up for it automatically the next night by turning in early.

Then get up late. Eat. Read a little. Pass out again for most of the afternoon.

Get up again. Read. Nap more; uncertain of what day of the week it is.

I must be in some unexpectedly rare mode of auto-detoxing. Made myself some Miso soup for the past two meals; a diet suspiciously lacking in it's normal Porky Goodness. Miso, vegetables, tofu... super effin' mad crazy yum-tastic.

Why, I declare, I may just wither up and blow away - pushing waifish and wiry to new extremes. Myyrrrf.

Be warned! It takes many years of measured practice to elevate and hone one's Slacking Skills to such knife-edged precision. I don't recommend it for amateurs.

You could get hurt. I've seen it happen.

February 19, 2006

Hoo-RAH for Exploitation and Progress

I bought these monster hard drives from Best Buy for dirt cheap. I asked Kevin how that was possible. He answered "Child Labor."

I'm pretty sure the more enlightened employers of the Far East use industrial robots to build these things. Though they probably use children to repair the robots (you know, in between their night shifts at the Brothel.)

All to bring me cheaper and cheaper electronics so I can "Imagineer" Creative and Visionary devices for Babylon, assisting in its death-ride worship of Moloch and Aitvaras.

So proud of myself; so darned Tricky.

They will end up in a landfill someday leeching mercury and heavy metals into the ground and water supply.

Thusly guaranteeing that only the stoutest pathogen-resistent complex organisms survive to the next millenia.

So to all the cockroaches and sewer rats I say, "Good Luck. Try not to fuck it up any more than we did."

And to Gaia: "THANKS FOR THE RIDE, LADY! Thanks for the ride."

February 17, 2006

Zen and the Art of Skinning yer fuckin knuckles

Finally changed the shock absorbers on my pickup truck today. They've been worn out for months.

Did it myself. Yep... yep... yep.

Then I smoked a stogie and ate a steak.

Cut it out of the cow while it was still running.

yep. That's what I do. I AM a red blooded 'merican after all.

I tell you what else: fucked a sheep, too (completely consensual and caring... don't be judging.)

Now if y'all excuse me, I gots to go beat the hell out of the smelly immigrant who took mah job.

Just kidding. I did change my shocks though.

February 15, 2006

infinite loop

Though my typical M.O. is "non-attachment", I have just discovered that I'm also not so attached to non-attachment.

No, for real.

How freakin absurdly retarded.

February 14, 2006

q t

too much pimpyness, not enough time.

this week was far too tiring in both the Machiavellian moves and the uber-truthfulness.

must decompress.

need... some... CAKE.... ak!

February 12, 2006

Say the Secret Word and win a hundred dollars

And the phrase for the day is: "Maguro-tuna-like torso".

I had a Greggyswara fuckin day. On the way back from the Theosophy Lodge I stopped by the Bouzas. There was some whipped cream cake with fruit in the fridge. Had some. I didn't want to be rude. Them Nip bakeries in Gardena know how to do up proper the whipped cream cake thing.

Went to the "House of Loud children". Helped make a cake for Katie's birthday - as in: mixed it, pulled it out the oven and did a masterful job with the chocolate frosting.

The family went bowling as I kicked back, popped open a Newcastle and laid back to soak in the silence the Froning living room rarely experiences.

Twenty minutes later they were back! I had just started to relax.

We ate cake a little later which, by the way, DOES indeed go well with Newcastle Brown Ale.

Yessss, a perfect Greggyswara-Hanumanji Sunday: half the day smoked away in naps, the other half lollygagging in the mindful exercise of cake and beer consumption.

myrrrrrrrrrrrrf.

February 11, 2006

whoah happy day

I spoke too soon. The weeks-overdue check finally arrived in the mail today.

The real absurd thing is: it's pretty much already spent. Between accrued debt and the required pieces for the Project known as "code name: Groovy", it will be all but gone in a few weeks; a little left over to keep rolling on.

I knew that one day I would easily smoke away in no time the kind of money it once took a year to earn. That day is here.

A few months back, a friend asked what it took to make money. In the long drawn out road-map of an answer, one of the main points was, "it takes money to make money."

So today I find myself quite literally putting my money where my mouth is. Throwing down 5 figures so as to flow back 6 and 7 figure income in the long term. Why? Why not.

My 2-dimensional matrix: a multi-prong multi-phase plan of attack, though early in-process, appears solidly on-track (and mostly still Proprietary and Confidential.)

I figure by next year, or Q1 2008, I'll be throwing down 6 figure amounts in higher risk ventures that are more prestige-oriented than these primarily profit-driven exercises.

But really, it ain't about money or influence or power even. For me it's about Be-ing. Choosing paths, questioning and re-questioning motives, re-forming plans. Playing, playfulness, flexibility... testing the limits, learning new skills.

Being in the moment. Immersing one's self in Process. Thinking, feeling, always remembering the heart.

In fact: Pimping and Overhacking ARE easy, but you won't hear me admit that outside of this blog. Out there, one must pretend it's all so verrrrry difficult; such a pain, an awful cross to bear.

The truth is: not-Playing is hard. That's living death, honey.

I am Pimpy McPimp, the wayward evil bastard swapping out his cold black heart with one made of gold. I'll bend yer Momma over and fill her with my Jesus. And I'm waaaay okay with it.

Yooo want fries wit' that, Beee-yotch?

February 10, 2006

Day 81

The siege continues. Day 81 and no money in sight.

The cistern is empty and supplies are running low.

"The Mouse" is behaving not unlike the proverbial deadbeat Dad.

yowza

February 07, 2006

myeeeeerf

I had 2 gigantic bowls of rich n' creamy chocolate ice cream for dinner. Mixed em up to make ice cream soup.

brilliant!

February 06, 2006

a small Universe

for the longest time, not a lot of folks had my cell number.

You see, I like to not be bothered. I do enjoy people but to be completely "touchable" is not a pleasant space for me. I like a certain sense of distance even with those I love.

In the past 3 weeks the number has risen to 8. Eight trusted souls with 24/7 total access.

cool.

Are you on the list? Ask yourself "why?", or maybe "why not?" .. It's just a phone number, and I'm not that important or pretty or wealthy. No big deal; just a number.

But it's a commodity that can't be bought for any price.

So there.

February 03, 2006

food drama

Cooked myself some SPAM fried rice for breakfast. My Gorgeous Crazy Delicious slurry of vegetables and spices and SPAM; fucking great.

Served it up all nice in a bowl, poured a tall glass of O.J., all good n' ready to eat, and BLAM!

Dropped it on the floor, the ceramic bowl cracking to pieces, yummy chow spilling out in every fuckin direction. Son of a...

Cleaned it up and served myself another bowl, my appetite a little subdued.

Work was pretty hectic. Later in the afternoon took a little time to nuke some Marie Callendar's Fettiucine Alfredo, but didn't feel like eating all the chicken in it. Didn't mix hardly any of it into the pile. Not sure why... I usually eat everything.

Spent a few hours spray-painting a bunch o' stuff. From a distance I must have looked like that Peanuts character Pig Pen, but instead of a cloud of dirt, I was encircled by a cloud of blue Rustoleum fog.

And, no, I was not wearing an air filter or respirator of any kind.

One of the managers bought a stack of pizzas. I had a little slice. Nothing, though, could distract me for long from my giant purple Pixie Stick. A little voice in my head said "stop". I didn't listen. Mindlessly pouring from the Magical Tube of Goodness while walking around doing random tasks, it eventually ran dry in an hour. Or was it ten minutes?

So, yeah, most of my evening's nutrition consisted of "paint fumes and sugar".

My internal monologue is bouncing wildly in a free-associative psychotic blur that finds itself inadvertently escaping out of my mouth in the presence of others. I know I'm sounding stupid, but I just can't seem to stop the flow of words out my effin' pie-hole.

Aw well, fuck-it.

Note to Self: "Fruits and vegetables GOOD, paint fumes and sugar BAD."

February 01, 2006

Clowny Mc-Fuckin-Clown

You see, when your business bank account falls to two dollars and ninety six cents, that could be considered a very strong indicator that you're doing something horribly wrong.

Normally I'd be all distressed, but no, for some odd reason I'm quite even tempered.

Not throwing any sappy affirmations at myself like "There's no place to go but up".

Fuck that shit.

Perhaps it's the secret project I'm throwing all resources (you know: inbound resources) into. I'm all jazzed about that - an actual plan in effect.

I don't know.

So while cooking a midnight snack of corned beef hash and eggs (because I'm part filipino, and it's the law) I accidently set my sweater on fire. Not cool. I thought I had put it out, looked down, flames were still dancing in and out through the cloth like a living thing.

Peach pie ala mode for dessert. Super fuckin yummy.

I see a larger Pattern emerging. Perhaps God is trying to tell me something: that I'm a dumb-ass maybe.

Well, even if God isn't trying to tell me that, I got Princess Rita to take up the slack.

And Princess Laura to demonstrate just how annoying she finds me.

So I got all that going for me. I am so lucky.