Porno Shop

El Senor made his way back to the Valley and we hung out today. He drank a coffee and I took a Hot Chocolate - he’s been gone for over a month now, locked up for 30 days for driving while under the influence of acid. He, unlike many men who do crimes and vanished before serving their time, had a Socrates moment and decided to turn himself in and serve so he can clear up all his errors. He couldn’t in the past because he was on probation in Texas, but that ended last year. This trip was planned since.

So we sat there in Coffee Zone, drinking and eating two cookies each, when he asks how my job hunting was going. Badly, I responded and told him about an ad in the Edinburg Review about a part time typist. He nodded and just said it - “You know the problem with us? We weren’t made to work for anyone.”

I’ve often felt like this. I wasn’t made to work for someone else, from the ground up. I always thought of myself as the take charge sort of person. After all, wasn’t that why I decided to run for president of Sigma Tau Delta in 2006?

“Yeah,” I replied.

Before he left, I talked about starting our own editing business, nothing fancy and only for side cash every once in a while because we were going to be facing a lot of challenges in the writing world as the small guys. He said he’d look into it, as well as reopening the Nueva Onda, but only in another location and only if Amado’s willing to go through it again. This time, however, we’d make within the city limits and possibly have a better plan that won’t leave us bleeding money.

Upon his arrival, he was rethinking the business idea. What sells in this country more than anything, despite the economy?

And not just adult movies, but pipes as well. He asked me to join him in this business and - well, fuck, I’m a writer, how can this not be good? - I accepted. I’ll keep you all updated on what happens. Trust me.

Next Thursday

I was watching Tin Man; just finished it, actually. It debuted sometime last year on the Sci-fi channel. I have to admit, the sole reason I wanted to see the show was Zooey Deschanel who is by far the hottest psychopath Weeds has seen thus far. I always loved the Wizard of Oz, minus the annoying singing though - I could live without that - and the stupid rumors that follow the movie.

Hmm, this reminds me, my birthday is next week, Thursday to be exact. For those of you close and personal friends are drawing a blank (that is, if you want to get me a gift) you can get it that because it is released this Tuesday.

I don’t know, this year, my birthday doesn’t seem like a great thing. Actually, every year it seems to miss greatness. This is year that worthlessness is increased ten-fold. What’s the point, really? I’m celebrating a quarter-life and I’m not too happy to think that it’s the best thing in the world. (Actually, if it were quarter-life, that means I’ll have another 75 years on this earth, I can’t think of a single thing that is more traumatic than that.)

You think that maybe I’d get a hold on life, but I’m realizing, thanks to the power of song, that this is all for right now. (Thanks to Philosopher in Theory, by the way, who got me that gift last year - putting it in the same bag my other friend put hers in, a pink Victoria Secrets bag.) And even though I’ve been down in the dumps about the break (up?), I think I’m doing okay. Anyway, even though we’re not together, Jyg’s still coming over tonight to watch Dirt. However, I’m not sure if this is such  good thing anymore.

An Avenue Q type of moment

I wish I knew Gary Coleman, because then my life would seem better. It seems to make the puppets feel better, so I suppose it would make me feel better. So Gary, come and visit me. We’ll be the best of buddies.

My energy is running low, I suppose, and the tension that I haven’t able to acquire a job is also building up. Apathy is setting in, so I better get off my ass and start getting down and dirty for that job before my career - which, to this day, is still really unknown to me, because, as I said earlier, I’d love to be a teacher, but I’m not sure if I would be allowed to resign my contract after my first year.

I wonder if someone like Wayne will walk into my life and give me a quasi-adventure of a job like tearing out the cooper wiring of a flood ruined house, while some  red-head sails in the sky, completely nude:

“This boat was pulling behind itself a tremendous triangular kite on a rope. From the kite, up in the air a hundred feet or so, a woman was suspended, belted in somehow, I would have guessed. She had long red hair. She was delicate and white, and naked except for her beautiful hair. I don’t know what she was thinking as she floated past these ruins.

‘What’s she doing?’ was all I could say, thought we could see that she was flying.

‘Now, that is a beautiful sight,’ Wayne said.”

Though, I think I could live without the heroin.  Not mention, I can really live without the name Fuck Head.

Some times, though, I wish I had stayed in college instead of just accepting my degree and taking this much needed break. Last year went by like a flicker of a candle light. Now that I look back, there could’ve been so many things that I could’ve done differently, and I really wish I had taken that second path instead of the well-traveled one. However, it is now really too late to think of that, and taking that path now will only admit to backtracking. However, that doesn’t cancel the idea of going to college 100%.

And looking for writing gigs is killing me because, like all things in life, I only have a minimum background in that. And there’s always the waiting period, the selling of one’s soul. Journalism isn’t really my niche because it’s the dumbfuck’s writing, however, I may only be jaded by The Monitor, owned by Freedom Communications.

Anyway, jumping out of this poor man’s skin of mine, I’m going to talk about something else. Sadly, I haven’t a single though of what that’s going be.

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Now playing: Original Cast - There’s a Fine, Fine Line
via FoxyTunes