"Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet,
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams"

W.B. Yeats


"It's circular. You exist to continue your existence. What's the point?"


"Without love... breath is just a clock - ticking."

...and so it begins...

If there's anything I hate, it's bad jazz music... even more specifically, bad jazz saxophone music (I would insert Kenny Gorelick ("Kenny G")'s name into that, but he's not even jazz... he's just pure, unadulterated shit on a cracker). The only thing I hate worse than that is bad jazz saxophone Christmas music... I guess at midnight on Thursday night, the music at work switched from decent music to "assloads of Christmas music and some decent music every here and there..." Every now and then a decent rendition of a Christmas song would play (no Stan Kenton, yet, mind you... and I'm not holding my breath)... followed by several horrendous renditions of Christmas songs (most notably about six different totally shitty versions of "Christmas Time is Here" (a personal fave) - you know, the song that opens up A Charlie Brown Christmas - here, just download it and listen for yourself)... I know it's really early in "the season..." but if I have to put myself through this for much longer... I may have to burn down the building...

If there's anything worse than bad jazz saxophone Christmas music, it HAS to be Gloria Estefan Christmas music... You can almost see her doing the conga over her versions of "Jingle Bells," "Silent Night" (which really made me wish it was), and "Santa Claus is Coming to Town..."

Ack...

Okay... after sitting and actually reading that last post... is it pleaded, or pled? I know I always used to say pled as the past tense of plead... and then all I hear on, like, CourtTV and stuff the last several years is pleaded... so I think I must've subconsciously become conditioned to this strange word (this, coming from the same people (journalists that get paid good money to know these things) that, for some reason, have the inability to capitalize the word President in reference to the Commander in Chief of this oh-so-great nation)... Oh, well... fuck it. I'm going back to saying pled and there's not a damn thing anyone can do about it...

Guilty

So... I had no idea... but it seems that ol' pilljunkie is free on bond, awaiting sentencing, after pleading guilty to breaking into my house...

Here's the updated docket sheet.

Would've been cooler if someone would've, maybe, let me know something about it, all...

Still want my fuckin' razor... and maybe my mechanic's gloves (no, I'm not a mechanic, but they were pretty nice gloves)... but most definitely the razor... *sad face*

He also pleaded guilty to a count of forgery on the same day and has to go to court on the 30th... possibly to be sentenced? Maybe he will be sentenced for the burglary on the same day? Eh, who knows?

"Love... I get so lost, sometimes
Days pass and this emptiness fills my heart
When I want to run away
I drive off in my car
But whichever way I go
I come back to the place you are

All my instincts, they return
And the grand facade, so soon will burn
Without a noise, without my pride
I reach out from the inside..."

Oh, man... I actually got off work before 6am, this morning... and I'm actually off, tomorrow... I'm truly amazed... I have no idea what I will do with all the spare time... Oh, yeah, I do... sleep. I'll just hang out all day in my lounge pants... Won't shave... just be a lazy slob for a day... that will be awesome... too bad there's no good TV on Tuesdays...

I love good dreams... I had a really good dream, yesterday... It was one of those "so real you could smell stuff" types of good dreams... It wasn't a sleazy dream (anyone that knows me very well knows that, for some reason, I never dream about sex... like, ever), but it was kinda sexy, I guess... I love the feeling when I wake up from an awesome dream... and then kinda hate the feeling when I am awake enough to realize it was just a dream... so I try to go back to sleep real quick to see if I can pick up where it left off... which has actually worked a few times. It didn't work, yesterday, but I guess it didn't really matter... what I dreamed was certainly satiating enough for me... and like I said, there was no actual "sex" involved in said dream (if there were, I probably wouldn't have felt as good about the dream when I woke up)... just a lot of "being there" and stuff... Sooooo real... Speaking of...

"Love, let me sleep tonight
On your couch...
And remember the smell
And the fabric
Of your simple city dress...

Oh... That was so real

We walked around
'til the moon got full
Like a plate...
And the wind blew an invocation
And I fell asleep
At the gate...

Oh... That was so real
Oh... That was so real..."

...always totally loved that song...

Y'know what really grinds my gears? Not getting text messages... I mean, receiving things telling me that several text messages have come while I was asleep... and not actually receiving any of them... Well, a couple of them were reminders for sporting event things, I'm sure, which is no great loss - I was asleep, anyway... but the other ones that came in, I think I really wanted to get them...

It's an extreme rarity that it ever happens... but when it does, it aggravates the living hell out of me... there is no living hell in me, right now, because it's all been aggravated out. I'll live... but damnit, anyway.

I don't enjoy being in pain... It's not a welcome thing, to me... I am not "into" it... However, after a night of absolutely exhausting work, I am very much "in" it... and to beat all, instead of having a day off to recuperate like I was planning to, I have to work... because I'm a good guy like that.

There's a guy that comes in in the mornings... he's like one of those guys that whistles... constantly... over top of music. Now, I'm not much for whistling... I tend to find it a bit annoying when people whistle over top of music that is playing... and this guy is vamping over top of Neil Diamond and Air Supply shit like an avante garde jazz saxophonist... The music at work is pretty decent - lots of classic rock (Rush, etc.), sprinkled with some modern stuff... nothing too heavy, or anything. Then, at 6am, it changes over to a bunch of schlock (can't wait for the Christmas music to start - oh, boy). Now, I'm staying super-extra late at work to make up for some people being complete slackers and dropping the ball left and right... I don't want to hear this guy whistling in the first place... and then to have him whistling loudly over top of really shitty music... totally aggravating. I seriously thought about how much I would have liked to shoot him in the face for about ten minutes.

I have to go take some aspirin... because it's all I have... and I have to lay down... because I hurt so much I can barely sit up.

I'm in a good mood... I'm in a bad mood...

I have totally clarity... I've never been so confused...

The more I look... the more I need to look...

The more I consume... the emptier I feel.

The firmer I plant my feet on the ground... the more I want to fly.

The more pressure I apply... the more it bleeds.

...

Waitress : Tuna on toast, coleslaw, cup of coffee.

George : Yeah. No, no, no, wait a minute, I always have tuna on toast. Nothing's ever worked out for me with tuna on toast. I want the complete opposite of on toast. Chicken salad, on rye, untoasted... and a cup of tea.

Without doubt, the best cookies on the face of the entire planet.
I think I just drank the biggest glass of milk I may have ever had in my life...
(and yes... my phone is cooler than yours...)

I took this the other night on the way home from work... it's the new U.S. Grant Bridge... that came in something like three years late (they tore down the old one in 2000, I believe)... At the time, there were something like three bridges in the world like it... now, there's a buttload, and the Portsmouth bridge isn't all that special, anymore... Oh, well... it's still pretty cool lookin'.

Ahhh... The follies of a late night in Portsmouth...


Don't have any idea who he is... but he's famous, now...


I checked to make sure he was still alive before I left...