backtracking
so i've had a few emails and a comment asking me about mike, wanting to know who he is, the story so far, etc. my beautiful genius green-eyed irishman in the joint... so i labeled all the posts about him. you can catch up here:
http://idle-brain.blogspot.com/search/label/mikeLabels: mike
gringringrin
today, one of my very good friends was offered her dream job, i got a call from the man who is responsible for the blood flow to my heart and my mind, and i finished a major job for work i'd been working on for weeks. when life sucks, i get through it because of days like today. i know they will always make their way around again, days where a dreamy half-smile graces my face from morning 'til night and every single person i care about has the same warm, brilliant fuzziness about their soul and everything is very simply okay. today is the type of day that makes life fucking fantastic. the type of day that destroys the perfect bell curve of happiness vs. sadness and slants it in favor of ecstasy.
thank you michael, and congratulations karla. *massive grin*
Labels: mike
the sickness returns
so the phone rang a few minutes ago while i was sifting through shit on amazon.com trying to find something to send to mike for his birthday. i answer it and it's a recorded voice from verizon saying that i needed to answer a few questions. so i began to, and then finally the recorded voice got to the good stuff and delivered the most wonderful news i'd heard since september of last year "an inmate named mike at ___ ___ correctional insitution would like to add your phone number to his list of numbers it's ok to call"
fuck YEAH!
and now i feel like i'm going to vomit for 3 days straight. how he has this power over me i will never know.
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six feet under
i used to love the show six feet under on hbo - i saw the first season like 6 years ago or something and then ran out of time with which to commit to the second so i vowed to myself that, since it was so incredible, i wouldn't watch another episode unless it was in order so i can follow the plots and shit. so now that i make decent money, i went out and bought the second and third seasons about two weeks ago. that's about 26 episodes in all and i only have one left to watch. in an amongst working overtime for my new client, rebuilding my office, having a garage sale and running an
indie music blog, i somehow found the time to watch 25 hour-long episodes of six feet under. anyway. none of this matters. what matters is, i think i may have fallen in love with the character ruth fisher. she's this frumpy, plain looking timid woman who you know could just let down her firey red locks and blow everyone away. she's so awkward and strange and she makes you feel so uncomfortable. the character development for ruth is so fucking spectacular that the director could sit ruth down at a table with no music, no dialogue and no action and the viewer would know exactly what's going on in ruth's mind. i don't think i've ever seen such an incredible mix of writing, acting and directing as with this one particular character from six feet under, in any movie, tv show or play in my life. frances conroy. wow. i'm blown away. i almost don't want to watch the last episode of the 3rd season, cause i know i won't be able to help myself from going out and buying the fourth.
dink hands murphy
last thursday a piece of mail was delivered to my house addressed to "dink hands murphy" at the address of a house down the street a bit. after carrie and i laughed abut the name, i put it aside to take down the street when i had a minute. not surprisingly, i totally forgot about the damned thing until saturday when my parents were over for our garage sale. i don't know what jogged my memory but i thought my dad would get a kick out of it, so i ran inside, grabbed it and showed it to my dad. again, we laughed and set it down. the next time i saw it, the thing was open and i picked up the enclosed piece of paper. on it, was typed up this:
Hey Fuck face
I decided to send you a letter because I have never done this before.
I am lifting more weight than ever but that is not much compared to a lifestyle of pimpin and hustling. I commend you on your success.
It all came about a some time ago, bitches and hoes helping a glo best of the best never rest but we all come about better than the rest No need to worry about a bruising,cause you be the man that's cruisin Liftin Big don't make me a Pig, SO don't act Like Im frontin like I need a Cig Keep it real day by day and you the real shit will start to play
Shits weak but this is my first letter sent out ever so FUCK OFF
i'm not sure what to do with this information, so i thought i'd blog it. ummm...
better pay up
sometimes i wonder if mike took a break from writing me because of his bet with my dad that the redskins would go further in the nfl season than the bears and as soon as he realized how terribly, terribly wrong he was, he hid from view until now, when he hoped perhaps maybe i forgot.
AHA. i have not. i will claim that $20 for my dad. just watch.
Labels: mike
the united states of fuck off
In Texas, a white teenager burns down her family's home and receives
probation. A black one shoves a hall monitor and gets 7 years in
prison. The state NAACP calls it `a signal to black folks.'
To some in Paris, sinister past is back | Chicago Tribunethey always say that all great empires must fall. for fuck's sake will you get on with it already and self-destruct? takin your sweet ass fucking time and now the rest of the world has to wake up to news like this bullshit. christ.
*anticipating pro-american tongue lashings*
you know, i don't understand patriotism. in the grand scheme of things, your country is nothing but a fleeting idea. i don't understand how we can live our lives defending lines and territories when we all sprang from the goddamned soil on the same goddamned planet. we are all the same and yet idiots continually cling to this outdated notion that we are not the same based solely on lines we've drawn in the sand.
the united states of america is nothing but an idea. an idea that started out with good intentions but no longer is relevant. so is canada. believe it or not, there are people in the world that live better than we do. go visit koh phi phi and try and convince me otherwise. we're so fucking busy thinking our countries are the be all and end all of civilization that people have been sneaking around behind our backs living a way better, more fulfilling, happier life with much, much less than we have.
fuck america. fuck canada. fuck the west. we are the un-evolved. this article proves it.
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tuesday night lights
Still trying to get the details, but early reports are that Texas'
execution last night of Charles Nealy was botched. More when we know it.
Abolish the Death Penalty: Botched execution in Texas?you know, the other night i was watching an episode of intervention on A&E with a founding member of three dog night's son, who was a heroin addict. his mother would take him downtown to score and on one such occasion she turned to the camera in tears and said that it made her sad coming downtown because she looked at all these people, homeless people, addicts, and she thought, 'every single one of these people is someone's son or daughter'.
it's a fact that we tend to forget when we kill people for killing people, or when we throw them in prison or out on the street with no help. these people were and always will be, someone's son or daughter. imagine waiting years for the day to come, a day you knew was coming, where a bunch of men in uniform would put an end to your child's life. and in front of your eyes, they set out to do this, and then they botch it. whether or not your child is guilty, are you? do
you deserve that?
crazy at is sounds, some of these people
are loved. and those loved ones are the
only ones being punished for what the convicted did (
or in some cases, didn't do).
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synchronicity
and speak of the motherfucking devil, i just got a letter from him! a good one!
*giant, massive, grin*
best fucking day of my life...
Labels: mike
i am NOT insane. not not not.
i've decided. i'm not fucking insane. i love someone i've known 12 years, someone who has seen me through things no one else even knows about. great things, bad things, mediocre things.
you see, recently i met someone who insisted on repeatedly telling me that i need to "get over mike, it's been months". and i dunno why, but this person succeeded in making me question myself and how i feel about mike. but, in a moment of sudden clarity, i realized this "advice" was coming from someone who's best friend was his playstation, who was completely and totally head over heels for his roommate's girlfriend, and thought friendship required nothing but sending links to fucking comic strips back and forth on IM.
i have returned to my senses. there is nothing, NOTHING fucking wrong with missing and loving mike. nothing. he's been in my fucking heart for 12 goddamned years and it's not just something i can let go of after one vague letter and then not hearing from him for a few months. which has happened before and it turned out he was in the hole. first and foremost, he is my friend and i can't just drop him like a bad habit when shit gets hard. it's not like him at all to not respond and quite frankly, i'm worried about him more than anything.
so. there.
fuck, that was so stuart smalley.
Labels: mike
if ya ain't part of the solution... you should be shot.
Texas authorities are looking into about 300 new complaints of abuse within the state's juvenile prisons and halfway houses, with about 70 involving some sort of sexual contact, the investigation's chief investigator said Monday.
Macleans.ca - Texas authorities investigate 300 complaints of abuse at juvenile facilities yes, yes. of course. this is what will work. some kid gets nabbed with a gram of bubonic chronic in his jock strap after soccer practice. so rape him. hey, he broke the law, he deserves it right?
fucking disgusting. citizens of countries where shit like this happens, who don't open their mouths about it, deserve more prison time than serial killers. you ought to be ashamed of yourselves. fucking
sick.
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kill 'em all, that's what i say
Just months after the discovery of a colorful new aquarium fish in Southeast Asia, worldwide demand and intense exportation are already causing concern about the survival of the species.
Aquarium Fish Threatened With Extinction Just Months After Discovery sweet. one step closer to total annihilation.
wishing so hard
you know when you add an item to your
amazon wishlist, it takes you to a page with recommendations based on the item you just added? well, i just added
last words from death row and amazon recommended i buy a harry potter book.
is it too early to go to bed?
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twitter?
and here in spain i am a spaniard
my wrists are extraordinarily tiny. not as tiny as my mother's mind you, but tiny nonetheless. i've got to get a cherry blossom tattoo for my naked right wrist, so i don't feel left-heavy. i suppose i will feel left-heavy anyway, until i get the serpent by garver on the right, at which point i'll feel right-heavy.
i'm going to see a shrink i think.
i can't get past him. this is not sane. at least i know
this is
not sane. there is so much i am unsure of, i have never really quite understood how to act normal around people. sometimes i say too much, i'm too open. other times i can't be fucked to open my mouth at all. i only do what feels right for me at all times, but it seems most of the time it's just weird for other people. and there are two types of people i come across. the type who take the time to get to know me in spite of my social deficit and the type who judge me at first experience, which is usually pretty awkward, so they don't hang around. or i see them once every few months or years and it's like starting all over for me. it's kind of a cool thing, though it may sound like i'm complaining. it's cool because i lose, very quickly, the people not worth a shit. and the people worth every single one of my heart beats, are the ones who stick around no matter how awkward i get. they see that in my awkwardness, in my social stunt, there is something extraordinary.
i'm like andy kaufman with boobs and a blog. just fucking weird.
i said to a friend the other day that it fucking infuriates me when people brag about their oddness, their awkwardness, sometimes even try to be "weird" and while i can definitely admit that i've been there myself, when you get to a point in your life when you're one year shy of thirty - very much an adult - and you really don't even know what crazy is, what sanity is, when you can't file your thoughts, ideas, actions, words in the sane column or the not-so-sane column because you simply have no idea which is which, it's terrifying. it's scary. i can't tell you if i'm mentally sound, i just have no fucking idea.
ze frank posted on his blog the other day, a link to
this, an ancient record of psych patients. i hope i am just a little delusional. but i'm afraid i might be suffering from furious mania. i know it's not erotomania or imbecility or idiocy. but it could very well be furious mania.
sometimes i am scared of myself. look where i've gotten me so far. miserable over a man in prison who, so obviously wants nothing more to do with me, but i can't let go, and because of this, i am hurting people who actually want to have something to do with me. it's only just begun to hit me now. he doesn't give a shit. did he ever? he said the most beautiful things, so often, he made me feel like nothing ever had. he wrote the most beautiful things and he had the most stunning habit of always getting back to me when it was important. he would disappear and disappear again but when i needed to say something he was suddenly there again. it never mattered when or how he got back to me but he did. he'd call no matter what time it was, he even got into a car to use the carphone when he'd been kicked out of his house once. nothing ever stopped him, when he knew i needed it. some days i didn't even have to tell him i needed it. he'd just call and ask me what was up. it's never, ever crossed my mind that he didn't love me until now. not once. 12 years i was convinced he loved me. now i don't know if any of it was real.
i keep thinking maybe something is wrong and that's why he can't get back to me, but i would rather, so very, very much rather he just doesn't give a shit about me than have something be so terribly wrong that he can't write.
it's all just hitting me now, because a few weeks ago i wrote him a letter. aside from "merry xmas" before i went to thailand, it's the first letter i sent him since he wrote back in september to say he needed a break. those were the last words he wrote to me. i waited as long as i could, trying to respect his wishes. but. i can't do it anymore. i told him i needed to know one way or the other. if he still needs time, he still needs time, just let me know every once in a while. if it's over, it's over, just let me know so i'm not drowning in emotional limbo. it's been more than enough time for him to get back to me. he hasn't. obviously. it's only just begun to hit me now. he may not have ever even given a shit.
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ze frankLabels: mike
current mood:
super duper bowl!
This year's Super Bowl telecast generated about 150 complaints to the Federal Communications Commission, with the bulk of the beefs centering on Prince's halftime performance and a Snickers commercial. As seen in the letters on the following pages, many correspondents were upset because they believed that the rock star was manipulating his guitar as if it were a penis.
Naughty Super Bowl Sparks Beefs To FCC - March 5, 2007 even though that's
exactly what i was thinking when i saw it, how fucking ridiculously miserable can you
be, exactly, to write to the fcc about that?
the "pro-homosexual theme" of this year's event, telecast on CBS, was "disgraceful." The writer added that "just because 6% of the population is gay," porn did not need to be included in the broadcast.
heeeheee. yes. yes. because gay people are the only people who enjoy porn. it's most definitely
not a multi-billion dollar industry that has seen even the most prudish of bitches take a peek here and there.
Another purportedly offended viewer was concerned that the halftime show would have an unfortunate lasting effect on his son, who "hoped to be a quarterback and now he will turn out gay...Thanks CBS for turning my son GAY."
i don't even know how to respond to that. anyone who would utter anything as absurd as that doesn't deserve to have children.
The Snickers commercial--in which two mechanics accidentally kiss as they jointly eat a candy bar--repulsed some football fans, one of whom wrote of feeling "violated" by the ad. "God knows, I didn't turn on the superbowl expecting to be tricked into watching gay sex!"
you know, i watched this game pretty closely being as my heartbeat was in direct synchronization to brian urlacher's and my overall happiness for weeks was directly dependent on a bears win (hence the miserableness) and i'll be damned if i saw any gay sex. i'm thinking about finding a copy of the broadcast and running through it a little closer. were the "offenders" at least hot? does anyone know?
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men. are. nutless.
warning: the following post may offend some viewers of the man persuasion. i'm just pissed off. as they say, this too shall pass.
i've been saying it for years now. men are the new women. men are completely incapable of normal human interaction without the guidance of a woman.
eg: have you ever, ever met a man who had the nerve to TELL a woman that anything was over? i'm talking every time he loses interest in a woman, EVERY single time. even when it's just been the woman coming on to the guy and the guy isn't interested. even when it's just a friendship. have you ever met a man who has a 100% track record in that department?
no. men run away, they hide, and they ignore until the chick gets the point loud and clear.
how terribly attractive, manly and hot. :\
Labels: mike
they're trying to build a prison
i've been a little ill this weekend, after a fun and karaoke-filled night running around downtown friday. under covers on the couch watching crappy movie after crappy movie. although lords of dogtown was good (coulda just been knoxville in that suit, yummm)... anyway, feeling a terrible lack of brain stimulation i decided to fire up twilight princess last night. after a very brief bit of playing i got to a point in the game where i was supposed to find some mirror in some old prison in which resided the unsettled souls of inmates. "k. not into this right now, back to something mindless" and i turned it off. so i saw that america's next top model was on and i couldn't think of anything much more mindless than that, except for maybe american idol. besides, i love watching them transform these women into the pictures that come out at the end, i think it's fantastic, some of the shoots. so i turned it on. stared, mind was going blank, it was working. then the photo shoot came along. one girl had to pose as a prison inmate and at judging towards the end, tyra went into some rant about the types of inmates you find in prisons. fuck. fuck. why was the universe doing this to me? it was time for drastic measures. we're talking britney's shaved head drastic. the miami vice movie with jamie foxx and colin farrell. more mindless than mindless itself. and of course, of course, it's about chasing the aryan brotherhood or the nazi low riders, some prison gang, i dunno which because i stopped it because the whole fucking night was the most perverse display of... of... i dunno. this just always happens. it always happens. this is the cruel joke i've been born into. i have no control over it anymore, no control. i can stop playing zelda, i can turn off the tv, and stop watching movies, but the universe will still find a way to get to me. fucking hell. even the horrible, gross and disgusting bridget jones sequel had prison scenes.
i ended up playing it safe and watching friday night lights because i know it's safe and the music is incredible and... within minutes i was asleep. and wouldn't you know it, i had a dream... fuck, fuck, fuck.
*pulls covers over head, goes back to sleep*
Labels: mike
every once in a while, we're supposed to care about just one of them
Visitors heard guards refer to him as their “very own ecoterrorist.”
Cottrell later learned he had been used as an example in a training
video on how to deal with terrorists in prison, “so now every prison
guard in the country recognizes me as a terrorist on sight,” he wrote
in a January 10 letter to the L.A. Weekly. He has been denied common
privileges such as exercise, visitors and phone calls. Ultimately, he
was banished to solitary confinement — the Hole, in prison parlance —
like a violent thug.
LA Weekly - A Terrible Thing to Waste while i feel terribly for this guy, i have to ask, why is his situation so much more worthy of everyone's sympathy than anyone else's? what about the hundreds of thousands of very young adults serving time for marijuana possession experiencing things like rape? this article says, "like a violent thug" as though we are supposed to feel like he's not a violent thug. he blew up hummers! how is that not violent and thug-like?
the reason we are supposed to care so much more deeply for this man than any other in prison is because he's some sort of genius. well, i know a genius in prison, too and no one gives three fucks about him.
"a terrible thing to waste". how is it NOT a terrible thing to waste to have hundreds of thousands of young people, some brilliant, some hard working, some loving, some generous, some talented, but ALL of them doing hard time in terrifying prisons for possession of a drug we've all tried? how is it all not a terrible waste... if you're gonna cry over one, cry over them all.
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