Tasteless Overtures

What is happening in the world?!? My second post ever on this blog was how the Cowboys have turned (or might have been all along) into the Yanks of the NFL world. Buy experienced used-to-be great players and watch them all stumble together to the end of the season.

But over the course of this season, I had a thought...perhaps Parcells was getting the old guys to show the new guys how to play. Why play all the new guys and lose every game? Why not let the new guys mix it up with the old guys? Learn some tricks and pick up a few wins at the same time. I thought, maybe I am wrong about Parcells.

Now from the little I have heard, this is not Parcells fault, but it is very hard to hold on right now. Yes, I too am now a believer that the world will end soon. Yes, Cowboys owner Jerry Jones said that he would not answer the question whether or not he would sign Owens right now. BUT!!!!!! Why would he not flatly say, "I don't ever want that sunafabeetch on my fuggin team EVER! For every diehard Cowboy fan, we will never PAY that disrespecting a-hole to set foot on our sacred football field!! FREEDOM!!! Long live the Dallas Cowboys!!"

Nope, keeping up with the Joneses said he would not answer the question right now.

If we sign T.O. I am no longer a Cowboys fan. You heard it here. I am no longer a fan because these are NOT the Cowboys I grew up with. If we sign T.O., come back here and I will declare my disowning of the Cowboys...of course until something changes, like the end of the world, Jones sells the franchise, Parcells quits, and at the very least T.O. is off the team.

Mr. George Teague, you are my hero.

Excellent

And then you see something, something that simply makes sense to you. Something to admire and feel comfortable with, something that reminds you of why it is good to hold on.

Like when I start thinking that art is B.S. and it is just some lonely man's way of telling people that he is lonely. Then I come upon a piece that is truly remarkable. The type of art that makes you forget that you look stupid when you try your hardest not to look stupid in a gallery. You just stop, stare and admire. Then at some point you snap out of it and the world has passed you by, but you don't care because for a moment you were alive.

No book for "I"

I am sometimes a complete idiot, meaning that I'm not always an idiot. But this is kind of like that rule we learned in elementary school about true and false test questions. If one part of the statement is false then the answer is always false even if part of it is true. So without further ado, I am a complete idiot.

Last night I was called a loser..."You're a LOSER, Maaan!" I think it is funny the way she said, "Maaaaaan!" But, I still think she was being serious, and for that, I pause and try to take it in.

I know something is not right when something is not right.

False tabs

Behold the truth is not spun from this mouth,
fingers speak nothing of this either,
and it definitely won't come from further south,
which always seems far more than eager.

I'm picking up leaves one by one,
digging earth and dusting away clouds,
someday I'll be one under the sun,
and wipe the mystery of the shrouds.

3 days to the bend

Here we go, things are starting to get slightly depressing here. Strangely enough. Apparently I feel like things are going to change tremendously and the change is not as welcomed as I once thought. I'd have to think long and hard about my true feelings as to why I'm not happier about this upcoming release. My friend is about to get married.

Freedom to do what I wish is in the cards. No more questioning my intentions, no more questioning my actions. I say do your best with the things you are supposed to do and things will be ok...and if they aren't, then you are prepared to the best of your ability to take on any distracting incidents. I haven't Always said this, it just made sense about a year and half ago. I saw that to get to where I would like (and to stay away from verbal bitch slaps from my ex) this statement kept me on course.

VERBAL BITCH SLAPS? That seems weak...it is hard to stick up for yourself when you know you are procrastinating. Then I look like an ass when I actually try.

So, now, what is it that I see? There is no longer a net below me, I'm allowed to go f'up my life if I would like, without ever hearing about it...there will be no further accountability. Funny, I already miss it.

But you know, some part of it will live on. Kinda like how I still sometimes write poetry with a certain someone else in mind. THERE ARE STANDARDS TO UPHOLD! I think sometimes I'm funny, how I protect memories.

Liberation

I went to a concert tonight, I hate saying concert because it was such a small concert, I want to say gig. But it seems like a gig is not the right word either, gig seems better used for a personal performance. Anyways, I went to the concert tonight all by my lonesome, and some things occured to me.

I am a selfish jerk AND I worry too much about the people around me.

I was able to get a beer when I wanted one, I was able to move around the venue when I wanted, all I had to do was make sure that I was ok. If I had taken someone with me, I would have surely not enjoyed the show. I would have spent the entire evening wondering if they were having fun. I had fun and when I wasn't, then it was ok...I knew I could leave if I wanted.

Anyways...

a possible lyric of sorts that was repeating in my head: looking for answers, avoiding the cancers, i like doing this and I don't like that, finding a purpose to flush out the crap, and happiness can be in my hand or right around the corner, but the pain always finds itself a way back. Where is this crack that finds my peace to attack. This old hurt has hurt much too long, this old hurt is wrong no matter how right it's supposed to be, and I'll point my finger to the lack in someone's honesty.

Err, it sounded better in my head.

Habitual Words

Habits are weird. Here is the definition I looked up from dictionary.com for the word "habit": A recurrent, often unconscious pattern of behavior that is acquired through frequent repetition.

So, I was going to talk about strange habits I've started picking up...but, is it a habit if for some odd reason, I just start doing it day after day, hour after hour?? It first started with the way I write the letter "F", I have been writing this letter the same way for most of my life, then about a month ago I started writing it different. I noticed it too, the first time I wrote it different. My hand simply didn't go thru the motions like normal...but it felt correct. Since then, other letters have followed the same lead, right now, my hand is trying to get me to write "B" differently. (This one I'm fighting a little because the B's are not as clear.)

Here is one I've notice. I don't remember exactly when I started saying it, but I was definitely over using these words today. Ridiculous and Excellent.

I'm tired. Goodnight. SO THERE!

Grey Street

Just some lyrics that seem to fit...the mood of the past couple weeks so well.

Look at how she listens, she says nothing of what she thinks, she just goes stumbling through her memories, staring out on to grey street. She thinks, "Hey, how did I come to this? I dream myself a thousand times around the world, but I can't get out of this place."

There's an emptiness inside her, and she'd do anything to fill it in, but all the colors mix together...to grey, and it breaks her heart.

How she wishes it was different, she prays to God most every night, and though she swears he doesn't listen, there's still a hope in her he might. She says, "I pray, But they fall on deaf ears, am I supposed to take it on myself? To get out of this place?"

There's loneliness inside her, and she'd do anything to fill it in, and though it's red blood bleeding from her now, it feels like cold blue ice in her heart, when all the colors mix together...to grey, and it breaks her heart.

There's a stranger speaks outside her door, says take what you can from your dreams, make them as real as anything, it'd take the work out of the courage. But she says, "Please! There's a crazy man that's creeping outside my door, I live on the corner of Grey Street and the end of the world."

There's an emptiness inside her, and she'd do anything to fill it in, and though it's red blood bleeding from her now, it's more like cold blue ice in her heart, she feels like kicking out all the windows, and setting fire to this life, she could change everything about her using colors bold and bright, but all the colors mix together...to grey, and it breaks her heart, it breaks her heart, to grey.

I always think about this song for others, but perhaps I have it wrong.

Trench Town Rock

I want to go to the beach. The last two days I have wished to go to the beach. I woke up yesterday and something felt vaguely familiar in the air. Like it was spring time back in 96. I listened to reggae in my truck.

I'm scared to death of the onslaught known as winter.

"It's six, twenty-two...and though it was nice, it's cold outside..."

Epitaph v23.0

More new awakenings...Power in weakness??? WTF? A barrage of calls...from credit cards to my newly found buddies. ...and the funniest thing is, i hate talking on the phone. (tho, the credit card guys aren't much for joking around).

Anyways, what's the epitaph of the week? Again, power in weakness. Err. That seriously doesn't seem right. Ummm...I am feeling depressed, I'm feeling panicked, please help me. And then, I let go of the pride...for pride is just another of the many reasons why I have a hard time...from time to time. I want control, I want people to come to me for advice, I want them to think, "Michael, ahhh, he is a rock for which I can lean!" But I am not. I cry often. To admit defeat is extremely humiliating...and in the humiliation, I find a smooth plane. A smooth plane, because i should not be humiliated for admitting to myself who I am...a smooth plane because from this point there is no excessive decoration, nothing to hide the plainness for which I am. But I say plainness as if it is negative. From this nothingness, I can start fresh, create a new monument to who I am. So, it really isn't power in weakness...it is more like power in honesty. Perhaps, I am fooling myself again...but as of now, this brutal honesty feels a lot like freedom.