Overpass

So I guess you can’t even go 2 or 3 weeks around here without someone complaining about something. Aside from all the bullshit of getting my taxes figured out and getting a mortgage set up and talking to realtors and buying a god-damned condo I am not given any slack even on the maintenance of this site. Let me quote:

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Cheers Jenn, even the highly motivated members of this site need a hearty kick in the ass once in a while. Good to know people aren’t afraid to call me on shit.  I have been working on a little ditty I like to call HOMECOMING MALFUNCTION – so don’t be scurred, just check it the fuck out!

The weird thing about being home and having this site is that I am no longer locked away in isolation. This place was born in the idea that people could track my, and a few other peoples’, activities in Iraq while we were mostly cut off from the world. Here, back in the states, it seems like life moves 100 times faster and with a million times the complexity. Pesonal relationships require much more time and effort and understanding, movements and actions have to be toned down and made acceptable, traffic signals have to be obeyed, aggressiveness has to be put into check, and a bunch of other stuff. One important thing is that I am no longer removed from the audience. The people who read and interact with this site are all around me and are part of my daily activities. Like imagine a yin-yang.

When I was in Iraq I was like the black swirl and the white swirl was the real world back here. Now I’m like a black dot in the white swirl which means I have to shift fire on this site a little bit.

It’s been a real effort to get caught back up on all this life shit though. Like I was in Iraq for 5 and then 4.5 months with only a month in between. Before that I was out processing from the Navy and trying to get work lined up working as a tactics instructor for some spooks and shit for a few months around the holidays last year. Before that I was on a 7 month deployment in Afghanistan. Before that I was gone to one place or another on training or some other shit. So as I was laying on my mom’s couch the other day I realized that I was, for the first time really, constructing what everyone else kinda takes for granted.. A FUCKING LIFE!

I bellied up to the bar at Patsy’s the other day with my old friend Brian. We started bullshitting about all the crazy shit we used to do back in the day. Breaking into the telephone company and stealing codes, hacking into computers and systems back before the internet even existed. Ripping off gear and equipment and forging ourselves as outlaws with rebellion and stolen knowledge as our companions. When I was in college I hacked out a bunch of sys75′s up in LA and used to set up these big conference calls for all these crazy chicks on the BDSM irc chat channel. Of course we talked about all the minor squabbles between everyone in our group of friends and all the bullshit and drama that we went through. I told Brian with a sigh, ‘dude, I don’t know why, but I just used to have absolutely no give-a-shit in me.’ Brian responded, ‘well man, you could probably stand to have a little more even now.’ Maybe he’s right, I dunno.

I don’t know why it is that I have done all the fucked up shit in my life. I see a long chain of mistakes and wanton self-destruction and anger that seems to stem from nothing at all or maybe just being alive. So not to gloss over the quickly addressed statement earlier and to clear up any questions. Yes, I am living on my mom’s couch. God, can you fucking believe that?!

We talked about how much energy we used to have. How much motivation to do fucking anything. There was a time when we went to the city planning center and bullshitted a complete set of scematics to the sewer tunnels in all of San Juan Capistrano and Dana Point. We used to go to the top of hills and cut the locks on sewer tunnels we mapped out on the scematics. Then we would lay on skateboards on our backs and hold a flashlight and luge (info-chunk “luge” is the french word for sled, oh boy, isn’t learning fun!!). Luge down the sewer tunnels at breakneck speeds for miles. At times the tunnels would get so narrow that your arms would rub on the sides. Since we were just broke ass suburban white kids we had crappy skadeboards and flashlights that barely worked, we were just racing through tunnels in the blackness because we just didn’t fucking care. We had a hundred back-alley drinking spots, a thousand outsider activities, our own lingo. This little segment gives me the feeling like it would be cool to go back to all the old spots and take a few snaps so I could maybe catalog it all here on the site. That might be impossible to a certain extent because Southern California back in the 80′s and 90′s went through a dramatic transformation of construction. Some of the places we would hang were temporary at best, construction sites, empty water tanks, every overlooked and unchecked crevice just to have a place of our own. Now here I am, buying a fucking condo, living like a normal human being, a marginalized isolated consumer of goods. Fuck.. what the hell has happened to me. So I feel like this blog is starting to get a little esoteric, spinning out of control (as they always seem to do). So keep clicking on the site, I got some ideas that I think are gonna turn out cool as shit.

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