Drama Queen
What a fucking weekend. Block Party in PB, ho-ly-shit.. everybody in town was there. A lot of people had fun and about just as many ended up feeling hurt. I’m not going to get into all the little bullshit details about who said what and who did what to who but the bottom line is that I learned my lesson about what can happen when you booze on a Friday the 13th weekend. At this point I’m just waiting to reassess the state of planet earth after all the dust settles. You know when life drama happens there is like a part of every person.. fuck that generality shit.. When life drama happens it used to be that I was usually a part of it or in some way involved or whatever. I was a miserable unhappy teenager trapped in a plastic coated wonderland of boredom and meaninglessness. That is somewhat a justification of shitty actions and another one of my feeble attempts to mitigate my own responsibility for being a real prick when I was a teenager. Bottom line is that at some point I turned a page on all that drama shit and tried to put all the lies and bullshit and manipulation and sneaking around behind me. I think I have done a pretty good job but what the hell do I know, all I do know is that now that I feel like I’m on the other side of these kinds of things watching them happen in front of me like a slow-motion train wreck. Even when I have really no involvement in the actions or their repercussions I still feel like I’m standing there amazed and gaping while a plane smashes into a mountain. I know I have my flaws, everybody does, we’re all just an overdetermined pack of shaved apes for fuck’s sake, but sometimes things happen between people that make you reevaluate all your junk. I almost feel guilty being present, like a little kid who snuck in and saw his parents fucking. Anyway, when bad stuff happens it really is just an opportunity in disguise because you are presented with a chance to define yourself through how you choose to interpret and respond to that bad event. I know this all sounds like dogshit without any of the details but at the expense of making my friends feel any worse about their interactions I will resist the temptation to spread SoCal drama wantonly on the internet.
One thing I will tell you is that I was helping carry the DJ’s speakers down the stairs from the party and I drunkenly slipped and the giant box went ass over tea kettle all the way down… hilarious!
Meaningless details list 31337:
- My truck hit 40,000 miles (yay!)
- I got a brand new belt buckle with an actual scorpion inside of it (yee-haw and howdy y’all)
- I finally used up the rest of my Hash House gift card ($100)
- A gay man who works out at the gym (apparently a zoo worker) handed me his card as he was walking past me on his way out and told me to call him if I ever want to “go backstage and ride the polar bears” (is that some kind of catch phrase that I’ve just never heard about or is he for real?)
- The “Giant” pizza at San Diego Giant Pizza King (intersection of Upas and 30th in North Park) is the biggest pizza I have ever seen and I will probably have leftovers in my fridge through the next ice age
- The artwork of Otto Dix sometimes causes me to have flashbacks to shitty stuff that happened in Iraq last year
- I recently collaborated on a song with Brian entitled “Nixon was a gambler” that is actually better than the old tyme classic “Titty fuck Francie”
- The other day I thought of a cool sentence fragment for some random book that will never be written about god only knows what.. the sentence fragment goes: “Trapped behind the red prison bars of McDonalds play place”. There is a lot of other cool imagery there involving those hampster tubes for kids, that giant playbox of multicolored balls and the plastic cartoon furniture that is waiting in ambush just under the surface. I think the book is probably about drugs.
- Finally, Vice magazine is pretty kick-ass… and it’s FREE!
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