Ignore the buzzing, it’z juzt the beez.

I just want someone to say to me oh, oh, oh, oh
I’ll always be there when you wake yea, yea
Ya know I’d like to keep my cheeks dry today, hey
So stay with me and I’ll have it made

And I don’t understand why I sleep all day
And I start to complain that there’s no rain

This is an edit to my original post. I’m not sure why this music video didn’t come to mind when I first made the post. It was only brought to my attention with a friend of mine (Monica from EMO) posted it on Myspace in response to this blog.

My house has been invaded by bees. And none of them are Jerry and Matthew. Several of them decided that nature was calling and broke through the bathroom window and started investigating, inspecting, searching, for a new house and how to use the toilet.

Sadly Mom was in there when they broke in, and many a bee’s life was taken. The bathtub is littered with little bee bodies, some of which still twitch as the Raid slowly kills them.

And paranoid me, my first thought was Killer Bees! I so hoped on to the internet to find out what killer bees look like and if they are known to flock around a bathroom window like that. This is what I found:

If you see honey bees now, you will probably see AHBs once they move into the area. If you don’t notice honey bees now, you are not likely to see AHBs. The most common sighting is to see a swarm of bees as they look for a new home, either flying about or resting on a tree branch or railing.

Africanized honey bees are less discriminating than other honey bees when it comes to nesting sites. They will build nests in the ground, in cavities in trees or buildings, under bridges, and in utility boxes if they can find a hole through which to enter. To keep swarms from taking up residence in a building or utility box, seal cracks and holes or cover them with small gauge wire mesh. (source)

But no actual photograph of what a killer bee looks like compared to a normal honey bee. So I started flipping through the pictures. Meanwhile, the buzzing had died down. Killer bees, however, are known to be territorial. They tend to attack anything that comes near their home, so I assumed they do the same considering both my mother and myself were too close for confront, both for the bees and for ourselves. Not one bee decided to come out and sting us. Instead, they buzzed on by and one of them whispered something antisemitic to me.

My worst nightmare was becoming real right before my eyes. The bees, it seemed, had finally organized and were ready to go on strike. I began to imagine swarms of bees gathering on the streets, holding little bee protest signs and marching (buzzing?) down the streets. Banners would go up in public places. The elections this year will be based on the fair treatment of bees - something that Bee Movie scared me with. So what will happen to us?

I caught myself wanting the bees to be killer because that I could handle. These things, not so much. So I continued my search for the bee look online because I had to figure out if these were regular or Africanized. Commandeering one of the twitchers from the bathroom sink, I started comparing its small body to that of large photographs of killer bees. Then it struck me: I’m looking in the Internet and not in a book. Most things online are controlled by know nothings, such as myself, passing their idiocy as factual evidence. So I gave up, but not until after I found the picture that helped me distinguish the difference between a killer bee and a regular one.

You see, there are two physical differences between the two types of bees. The twitcher didn’t have either of these qualities so I crushed its head and disposed of its body. The photo is posted below.

Sleep to be Awoken

My father, the man who never had a role in my life, the stranger in the crowd, a phantom of a man, was an alcoholic and, so, by natural psychology, I am at risk of being one. I don’t drink. Never have and I don’t want to. It’s the only goal in my life that I’ve the pleasure to announce I’ve kept. When I was a teen, I never wanted to drink illegally. As an adult, I am the sober man at the party, the loner, the unfunny one, lifeless and devoted to his sobriety. It shocks people to find this out. I’m sure some of you are staring at the screen with uplifted eyebrow questioning my honesty. In fact, the only alcohol I’ve consumed is always a part of a recipe, and never out of a bottle.

This probably puts a lot of people who have read my stories to question them. All my characters drink. They hang out at bars and grow drunk, hating society, becoming shadow men incapable of loving. They drink to regain a certain ease with themselves. To become happier than they have ever been. But it is fiction. The accounts of the characters are neither myself or anyone I know.

And with a sad heart I say bye to you and wave
Kicking shadows on the street for every mistake that I had made
And like a baby boy I never was a man
Until I saw your blue eyes cry and I held your face in my hand
And then I fell down yelling “Make it go away!”
Just make a smile come back and shine just like it used to be
And then she whispered “How can you do this to me?”

I lost my cousin to his addiction to alcohol. New Year’s Eve 2003 I went to bed. I woke up in 2004 to hear from my mother my cousin was dead. The medics said he didn’t feel pain. That his neck was snapped the moment he collided with the object he crashed into. The wreck was so bad that his legs had to be amputated. He was cremated, his ashes somewhere, forgotten.

At times, I still find myself thinking he’s not dead. I never saw a body. Never seen the evidence of his death. When I see a chubby guy with a scruff beard, I still think he’s around. I think it’s the guilt of knowing that I was the one that expressed that he wasn’t welcomed in my mother’s home anymore. I wonder if things would be different had I not said that. Would he still be alive?

When Teddy died in 2001, I think I was a little distraught. No one I knew had ever died before, not a friend and never someone my own age. I was in my BCIS class when the announcement that Teddy had not made it. He’d been in a coma for some time and was struggling to live through. I think that was the first funeral I ever attended where I felt this coldness growing in me. From that moment on, I never wanted to be associated with the substance.

I canceled all my friends who were drunks. I promised never to grow to close to them. So when I found out my girlfriend at the time favored the drink, I was distraught. Despite the fact that we probably weren’t made for each other, the one thing that was a constant for me was her passion for the drink. I didn’t want to stand around and watch someone fall into that trap, confusing alcohol for happiness.

Addiction’s held you back
But you don’t care
Cause you’re on a high again
And it’s not fair
Consuming alcohol
While I gotta drive
Take a hit from the drugs you stole
And try to survive

Since your life was over
You haven’t yet been sober
You have held me back so long
Everything you do is wrong

My brother, the middle child, named after my father, following in his footsteps, is also an alcoholic. I’ve seen him in and out of the system since I was a kid. And while I love my brother, I have absolute no respect for him. He’s wasting his life on the bottle. He’s a rotting mess. It depresses me that I don’t know how to talk to him, or what I can say to make this disease leave his body.

And the saddest part of the story is that my brother is painfully aware of his condition but refuses to do anything about it. Alcoholism, like all addictions, is an ongoing battle between the alcoholic and the substance. I’m sure my brother feels like he’s losing his, which was made clear to me when he asked me to kick his ass if he was ever a bad father - he told me this at 7:00 am as he and his friend were still up drinking from the night before. I told him I didn’t have the time and I’ll deal with him after school.

You are one of God’s mistakes.
You crying, tragic waste of skin.
I’m well aware of how it aches,
And you still won’t let me in.
Now I’m breaking down your door,
To try and save your swollen face.
No, I don’t like you anymore
You lying, trying waste of space.

Now I sit here and stare at this screen thinking how I came to this point. After swearing never to care about people who might be headed down the path of a bad addiction, I find myself compelled to take care of a certain person. As I told this person, I don’t want to be up at night fearing that the phone call will be someone telling me of their death. I worry enough about my brother, I don’t need to worry more about someone else.

I just hope that this person seeks comfort in something else instead of drink. That drinking shouldn’t be for the buzz. This, of all things, is now bringing me closer the edge than I have before.

I tried to help you once
Against my own advice
I saw you going down
But you never realized
That you’re drowning in the water
So I offered you my hand
Compassions in my nature
Tonight is our last stand

I tear my heart open, I sew myself shut
My weakness is that I care too much
And our scars remind us that the past is real
I tear my heart open just to feel

Happy Birthday Father of Abscence

Today is my father’s birthday, however, considering that the time on this blog is nonAmerican and I don’t know how to or if I can change it so I should say that yesterday was my father’s birthday.

I haven’t spoken my father in years. In fact, the last time I saw my father, I wasn’t sure if it was him or not. It’s sad when a son doesn’t recognize his own father. It’s depressing. Almost profane.

coming unglued

I wish I were a better news writer, but I’m just too self critical. That and because I think news writing is the lowest piece of literature, right below technical. Not that I look down on these people or anything, but it’s not right for me.

I took a test for teleperformance today. I hated it. Not sure if I passed. And had it not been the fact that I felt like shit, I would’ve stayed for the interview. I scheduled one tomorrow.

I saw Jyg today. I even invited her to my get-together with my friends. We’re having it this Friday at Casa de Binx. It’s not our usual stuff, but we’re celebrating the end of birthday week. Tomorrow’s Binx’s and Thursday is mine. I’ve invited his sister to our function and hope she goes. After all these years of knowing each other, I never knew she was a kindred spirit.

But Jyg coming over was big. It was the hardest thing for me to do. I mean, I love you all, my friends, but no matter how close we are, she’s the only one who has seen what I’ll call my “soul” because I’m feeling metaphorical. It’s the hardest thing to go through when you have no one to talk to because the person you trusted was the one who brought on all this pain. And my absence in her life wasn’t helping her either. I can’t imagine to be the other person right now, seeing the pain of the one you considered the closest person in your life knowing you can’t help it because it was brought on by you in the first place.

I still love her, and I think I always will. But I have to accept the fate I brought upon us. So this I ask of my friends, don’t hate her. Don’t treat her any differently. Don’t think you cannot trust her. She’s the same person she was when we were together.

The Ennui Files, Gibberish News & Other Thoughts

I suppose a few, and only a small few of you, know that Ennui Files has been set up by me some time last month because I had an idea that turned out to be a brain fart. However, I’ve come to the decision that I should use it nonetheless for writing, creative writing, namely Ekphrasis poetry, prose and their bastard child, prose poem. Where am I going to get my art from? Flickr, of course - it will either be linked to the photo, blogged into the post, or whatever I can come up with, however, full credit for the artwork will go to the photographer and if they ask for the image to be removed, I will gladly oblige. I’ve started on one piece already, but haven’t really gone into it much because of this head that I’ve had all day.

With that being said, I think it would be unfair of me to use it on my own. So I’ve added Jenndiggity and Philosopher in Theory into the mix, hopefully they will be allowed to post. whenever they get inspiration to do so. I will also allow other users to contribute if they’d like to as well, as long as they have a wordpress account and swear by whatever they believe in that they won’t put up crap - I will be the sole judge of that, by the way. If interested, just send me your wordpress e-mail address and I’ll hook you up.

I just want to build a community of writers that want to show off their skills. And just because I choose to write Ekphrasis pieces, doesn’t mean you’re all bound to my decision. Write what you want as long as it’s tasteful and not overtly preachy - which, I don’t expect Jenn and Philosopher to do something overtly preachy.

Also, if you like what you read and want someone covering Ekphrasis writing to create something with your photo, feel free to link it.

On to the next subject:

My brother, Gibberish News, has set up an account. He’s new at this so bear with him until I show him the little skills needed to capture an audience. He’s a striving comic writer who just wants to share the news with a more humorous tone.

Well, tomorrow’s hump day and this Friday’s March 14th and we know what that means. I’ll have a few sex posts for tomorrow, hopefully.