Moving On...

For my millions of followers, I've decided to switch platforms and names.

While I still plan on sharing myself, I feel that I'm in a better place and want to start in a new, more light-hearted direction.  With that said, please follow me at http://bl0ggiebl0gbl0g.wordpress.com for more of my random musings and sharing of personal foibles.

What's in a name, you ask?  I didn't want to use my screenname and wasn't about to pigeonhole myself into a topic, so that name sprung to life at 5:30 AM.  Can you believe someone actually had the name "bloggieblogblog"??  So, throw some zeros in place of "O's" and that's where "bl0ggiebl0gbl0g" comes from.  I'm still calling it "Bloggie Blog Blog", because I can.

Thanks for keeping up and keeping me moving forward.

Scott

Haiku-palooza

Quarter can of Coke
A half dollar and some change
Iconic sugar

Holiday work week
Post-apocalypse office
Workplace solitude

Meat tenderizer
Consumer-grade wood chipper
Soft particle steak

Discarded cable
Still in bag, bound by bread-tie
Junk drawer inmate

He she you we they
A carnival caravan
All in together

Unintended act
Bounced once after hitting floor
Severed fingertip

Mr street sign man
He's observed and recognized
Stoic and unfazed

One hundred four keys
A to zero to space bar
QWERTY, if you wish

You Know What I Mean?

On the surface, I like to believe I mean well and in the ongoing search and definition of my life's meaning, I have made it a habit to actively contemplate/capture that meaning, at times in the immediate then and there and at other times in a more cumulative fashion. While I've done my best to be honest and forthcoming, one can argue that complete objectivity is impossible, due to the simple fact that I'm me and even with a well-lit mirror, I don't always see all of myself.

One of the primary purposes of this blog is to attain a bit of that objectivity by putting myself out there and moving on, then reviewing and critiquing the me that was/is and hopefully realizing and enacting the necessary changes to effectively continue "meaning well". I bring up the topic of "criticism" because when hindsight is brought into the equation, we inevitably find that some of those well-meant intentions go sour. The amateur therapist in me (using the title as evidence) loves nothing more than going back over past entries and mining for golden nuggets of wisdom that will lead to solutions to yesterday's/today's/tomorrow's problems, but that's rarely the case. What I've typically found is that I've merely got wild dreams of romance and fantasy that come out in wordy posts and poetic jibberish.

What am I getting at? I'm not sure, but I've had a lot of free time lately and a lot of that time has been spent looking for meaning in various angles of my life story and I seem to keep coming up short. Short of what? The same meaning that philosophers and great minds have filled volumes with various thoughts and opinions while still coming up short of a consensus. When I put it to myself in that light, I begin to realize that while I'm not wasting my time, I'm joking and essentially lying to myself if I ever think I'm going to find a single or definite meaning to anything I see/think/do... life is far too infinite to ever be pigeonholed.

So, with all that said, I guess you nor I know what I mean.

4

Number 4. Those are words I never thought would apply to me, yet its not really a surprise now that its here, considering that I... continue to credit myself for intelligence that's not really there... continue to turn a blind eye to the obvious... and continue to think and act like I'm in a position to give advice and judge, when its pretty clear how much of a directionless plop I have become at the tender age of 37.

"4" refers to a situation I'm currently mired in, thanks to my dear associate, alcoholism. A dear associate that has stuck by me through thick and thin, in good times and bad, and for all intensive purposes, is bound and determined to be there "till death do us part". Depending on the day and mood, I have called it far worse things and conversely, have even joked about it's place in my life, which is probably one of the many reasons I'm writing about this subject instead of sharing my thoughts on something else, such as... the sand in Barbados.

On one hand, I almost fear putting down additional words about this topic for the same reason reason kids are scared to say "Bloody Mary" or "CandyMan" and that's the fear it may show itself again. On the other hand, burying it (along with other things) has allowed it to become a festering parasite that has made me into a shell of what I believe I am capable of being.

And it's at this point that I need to say "Whoa". Take it down a notch and re-read the first paragraph. The whole mantra of perpetuation is what needs to be interrupted before the count increases. Maybe even blogging is counter-productive, because it continues the trend of self-talk that has me trying to self-diagnose myself. Whatever the solution may be... what I'm doing isn't it.

So I've started to believe and live the cliches (keep it simple... one day at a time... we have twice as many ears as mouths for a reason - one should be used twice as much as the other). They say a lot more than I've said over the span of this post and this entire blog. And while I'm obviously sorting through a lot and still feel like a bit of a directionless plop today, I'm not limiting myself because of "4". It's happened and it's a significant hurdle, but it's not the end. Its going to only be what I allow it to be and what I decide to make of it.

Wolf!!!!!

Have I screamed "wolf" enough that now no one gives a shit when I disappear? Is it really what I want unconsciously? How does one remake them self and is it possible for me?

All questions that have been rattling 'round the peanut gallery over the last few days.

In other news... I'm getting closer to the end of "In Cold Blood" and and much like "The Stranger", the underlying concept of human disconnect seems to be playing out in real life. Granted, both novels also revolve around murder, which is "not playing at this cinema", but the fact that the two books I just so happen to pick up and maintain interest in contain characters with a waning interest in their fellow man is not lost in coincidence.

Skipping to weather... I know that without drink, I'm generally a pretty introverted (emotional time bomb) person and with, I'm fun for a limited time until I inevitably drown sensibility and become "SuperFuck"... Which ties back to the lead-in and convinces people to grow tired of the schtick and move on past the accident.

As you can tell from my rambling... This isn't the most thought out post, but its been that kind of period where I need to see my thoughts on paper and don't feel like FB is the proper channel.

Whether I follow through and re-medicate myself or see how life in a self-imposed exile plays out is yet to be determined, but these are uncharted waters and I'm hoping that by leaving some floating bits behind... I can find my way back, if that's what's in the cards.

Wolf!

posted from Bloggeroid

I am the loveless beast

Becoming more and more withdrawn and alienating. Starting to feel like a Radiohead song... Faint eerie background with a rushed heartbeat, all narrated by Thom Yorke's unmistakable wail. From drunkenly roaming dark city streets to short-term self imprisonment, I feel like a loveless beast that people abhor, with good reasons.

posted from Bloggeroid

Something About Mondays...

Contemplation... About the speed of time as I age... About what I'm becoming (and what I haven't)... About the "observation" that white girls with naturally black hair seem to have a higher degree of "diva" than those without... About today's music generally sucking the ass of that which I heard growing up... About the temperature difference between my living room and my porch... About my evolution from a "boobs guy" to an "ass man" (one is far harder to fake than the other and I'm all for natural beauty)... About the fact that a majority of my posts come on Monday... About the rancid smell of stale cat urine... About seeing a new shade of color, simply by having a zen moment with nature... About finding a better purpose for Mondays than sitting around and pissing and moaning about them.

Happy Monday

posted from Bloggeroid

Disclaimer:

The two earlier posts are not any indication of my current state of mind... They do however reflect a point-in-time of mine, so they do deserve a place in my "therapy session".

With that said, I'd be lying if I claimed I haven't posted any recent updates due to being "cured". Far from it, but have come to the realization that there is no fix for "life". It's been more of a gradual development of a comprehensive emotional toolbox that I'm sure many of my peers have attained and have been more than willing to let me borrow from in the past, but were of no use until I figured how to acknowledge and utilize them.

In the aim of keeping this post concise, yet introspective, I'll finish with the following:

No destination
My hand riding waves of wind
I'll know once I'm there

posted from Bloggeroid

cost of delay

1989's film "Do the Right Thing" was/is one of my favorite films. I feel it captures the daily turmoil that was experienced by those living in the general vicinity of HATE, SUFFERING, and RACISM and those who continually choose to see our country as a place where a son/daughter of a "citizen" can BE ALL THEY WANT TO BE. THE MOVIE starts with Mookie who is portrayed as a synopsis of all that's good and bad (pre-marital sex, economical settlement, repressed capability), yet decides it's worthy to carry on.

Fuck

Holed up in a self-imposed cell

Living life like I'm bound to see hell

Beige Nightmare

Here I sit, broken hearted
Tried to think, but quietly farted
The putrid scent wafted
And whispers ensued
Pssst… Who would do that
Shhh… maybe he’ll hear you
mmmph… I strain to contain
my hopes and prayers
that everyone around me
Chokes on my anal vapors

I recollect last night’s dream
To overtake the thought of work
A terrorist attack worthy of CNN
Initiated by accident
Accentuated by sleep
Trying to avoid the degeneration
Of a slow corporate demise
Most will crash and burn
While few feign success
I’m found guilty of being content

tacos for lunch

i had tacos for lunch today
during the aftermath i thought
i'm contemplating quitting
packing it in and moving on
I'm sure friends will question
the basis for such action
without being superficial
i base my reasons in reasoning
employment has become confiment
and my days are stripped of enjoyment
with that said and done
it's time to consider change

when production comes in hiccups
and time stops more than it starts
i yearn for the next bomb threat
to disrupt the mind-numbing flow
thirty minute restroom recluse
sixty minute mid-day

me and my half rhyme

i want to tell her

we could be

yet i've to show her

we can be

soft horns blow

that compensate how i

feel for this

thing called "we"

i chase imaginary

dreams directing cut

one, two and three

yet never shooting

the scene correctly

misplaced extras

and incorrect choreography

let us dance to dictate

what you think may

BE

when I am her

and she is me

all will coincide

intimately and correctly

when the OE speeks

this monday is miles away

from the happiness

that defined yesterday

lackadaisical like a musical

whimsical like periwinkle

i'm fishing for reason

to be optimistic

the bait's been taken

yet the fish ain't bitin'

content to be with

all that's floating my way

when the OE speeks

either you listen

or you drown in sorrow

forget that yesterday

forged the death trap

that became tomorrow

sick guitar riffs dance

in the fading dream puff

i catch by chance

without direction i roam

in and out of consciousness

open doors close to a way

that leaves me wanting more

perplexed puns play pigeon

shitting on my shattered psyche

i tire of the mental mess

that leaves me wanting more

when the OE speeks

either you listen

or you drown in sorrow

forget that yesterday

forged the death trap

that becomes tomorrow

war

witness the imploding tension

the sparks near the wick

its omnipresence overwhelms

while opinions fuel the flame

bullets diminish while bodies pile

innocence is tainted and opinion's are vile

soldiers march to the opposition

all is lost when mothers cry

maintain

to post something legible or not... 'tis the question. i'm aching for prose, but i'm also hurting inside, so waiting for the artistic urge to hit will only hurt me... SO...

this week was a challenge. no more, no less. i realize i've dug myself a ditch and am or have been finding ways to maintain. maintain happiness, sanity, reason d'etre. dirty outsiders will claim i've got plenty to be (contradiction of 4th sentence). i disagree. this is my blog, so i trump you. happiness, sanity and reason d'etre all applause :). i've got financial and emotional problems, which some may say feed into each other, but one will exist when the the other exits, so i make sure they have each other to play with... it's probably the paternal instinct in me.

ideological differences aside, i yearn for days when i wake up and run about my kitchen/bathroom all scatterbrained, only worrying about getting to my desk to continue yesterday's thoughts... her brainstorming that i gaily dove into and fed from. it happened once or twice and believe it can be again, but wonder WHEN?

is it me? is it me? or is it me? my employer covets thinkers and intellects, so i'm left to wonder. is it in my best interest to maintain or climb the mountain (2 letters difference... not bumper sticker material, but kinda there... right??)??

hate

most of my posts are poetic ramblings that make sense to gifted woodland creatures and myself, so i thought today, i'd post something legible. a lot has happened in the past week that if gone unsaid, would fester in me and defeat the purpose of my blogging or would come out in an incoherent, jibberish that would again, do nobody any good.

i've come to find that i'm fairly consumed with hate... not your run of the mill disdain or bile-inducing anger, but pure, unadulterated, hate. i've known for sometime that i'm severely lacking in this ability some have called "forgiveness" and i'm fully aware that my intolerance speedometer does 0-60 faster than most foreign sports cars. yet, in the past couple weeks, i've come to discover that i may actually qualify for a little known disability known as "heartlessness" or the lack of "feeling".

some symptoms include: defriending facebook friends with little disregard, cutting ties with a neighbor's cat i felt didn't buy into my mode of living by "showing him the door" and closing it behind him and blatently telling my baby-momma i hate her and nothing she could do or say would change what she's said or done.

this disdain for humanity in some ways keeps me motivated, knowing that some think their compassion will win out and some think i'll crack over time, as most do to ease the burden that daily hatred places on most souls. knowing i'm able to hate on with little disregard allows me to fester and build my foundation of hatred towards those that plot against me. razors cut like paper through thin skin.

grey skies, pt. 2

as days melt into the blur of time

i wake to darkness

and sleep away the light

fractions of seconds meld together

to paint the mess

i've learned to call life

all of which

makes the effort to make sense

somewhat maniacal

i recall vivid moments

when the static stopped

and clarity was taken for granted

definitive start and stop points

staked their claim on my psyche

the grey skies parted like a shutter

and the stain stamped the negative

then without warning or pause

the clouds conceded to chaos

eventual accumulation spawns surmise

i often ponder purpose

from genesis to finish

is this mire of my own doing

or am i part of the equation of we

in the distance, the ether flows

beckoning me to bathe

do i dive and dissolve

or flee for the faint hope of focus

manifesto

people say and people speak

i maintain until i change

we culminate in conversation

relationships come and go

it all defines us, as well as me

i proclaim ubiquity

until it affects me

selfish and heartless

are terms of endearment

caring and thoughtfulness

somehow become slurs

as cranial as i claim to be

incongruent becomes

another word that best describes me

broken and battered

most often by myself

i enjoy each day's lapses

if not to recapture the reason

then to capitulate with humanity

understanding i'm but a stain

on the overall picture of longevity

staycation

this was the result of a some self-talk. if you've never heard of a "staycation", it's time off w/ no plans, aside from enjoying the small things... such as sleeping in and letting phone calls go to voicemail. take today for example... which was the 4th day of my staycation... i slept until 11, spent a good majority of my day in bed, watching the battle between laziness and slumber, then moved the party to the couch for some r & r with Spike Lee and my friends hops and barley. many moments of inspiration, recollection, despair, and fortitude came and passed while i enjoyed 2 great films. whatever tomorrow brings, i'll embrace it with a vigor that came from the reality that then, now and everything in between is nothing more than a collection of moments. moments that paint a collage... a tapestry of life. i'll now step down and carry on with my piece.

for those stuck in the grind

and to those losing their minds

let me recommend a fix, a patch

something to tide one over

and assist you in collecting thoughts

if you got the time, take it

for those less unfortunate, fake it

but find a way to stay in bed

walk the streets of your town

do what it takes to gather one's self

for without one's self

we're no good to everyone else

we're awash in apocalypse

zombies serve us lunch

then leave us messages

we forget and overlook

the beauty of a sunrise

the serenity of a cool breeze

the reason to be and continue

reasons that continue

regardless of our participation

mirrors reflect but hide what others see

why can't everyone step outside

and allow themselves a chance to perceive