I no longer live in Austin...I have moved into the Rabon Compound here in Seguin, Texas.
I could have found a way to stay until I found a job, but I felt I would've been "treading water" while still feeling a little "broken". I've come home to heal up, physically, emotionally and spiritually.
I'm helping my dad fortify his fence to keep his dogs from escaping (again). They act dumb, but I think they're Steve McQueen and Charles Bronson, dumping dirt out in the yard and digging a series of underground tunnels when we aren't looking.
I'm working out...seriously. I've got the time, might as well improve myself. Holy fuck am I out of shape.
More importantly, I'm rediscovering myself here...the "me" that I actually like.
I'm always online, so it's not like you assholes are going to miss me. I'm around.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Those Are People Who Died
Many bands have more than one key players...multiple dynamics that makes the group what they are. If you lose one, you still have a shot to AC/DC your way back into the hearts of music fans.
There are those bands, however, that cannot replace their lead. For example, you can't replace Jack White in, well, any of his bands. Here's a list I compiled over the past couple of hours when I should have been sleeping:
Sublime w/o Bradley Nowell - The drummer and bass player are recording new songs and making dates, and they first tried to just use "Sublime". Ugh. Really? Reading about these guys gave me the idea for this post, actually. They were actually sued by the Nowell estate when they tried to perform as Sublime saying, and I'm paraphrasing, "Hey, fuckos, Bradley was Sublime...is he making an appearance that we're not aware of? Then suck it." Rome Ramirez has joined them, so they've finally nailed down their name: Sublime with Rome. Wow...way to try to make it on your own merits. Terrible. F.
Blind Melon w/o Shannon Hoon - They're still together, trying to find a new lead singer. You know, I don't think I'd watch them if Hoon was still alive.
The Doors w/o Jim Morrison - In 2002 Ray Manzarek and Robby Krieger tried to form a new version of The Doors called "The Doors of the 21st Century". Ex-drummer John Densmore sued them, basically saying, "Seriously? Knock it off." Densmore, much like Led Zeppelin's John Paul Jones, are all about preserving the past, "fuck the reunion tours".
Creedence Clearwater Revival w/o John Fogerty (and Tom Fogerty) - John Fogerty tours on his own...under his own name, singing the songs he wrote. You know...ALL OF THEM. "Creedence Clearwater Revisited" is a group featuring the fucking bass player and drummer. I wonder if CCR's old sound man and guitar tech formed a band too.
Morphine w/o Mark Sandman - Drummer and sax player created Orchestra Morphine, which is a group of friends and fellow musicians who play occasionally to celebrate the existing music and raise money for the Mark Sandman Music Education Fund. Let's just hope they leave it at that.
INXS w/o Michael Hutchence - Well, Andrew Farriss composed the music...and two of his brothers are in the band...sure, if you pick the right person, you could continue as INXS...I don't know if going the route of a fucking reality show was the way to go. I think I'll just listen to old albums and skip the new crap.
The Clash w/o Joe Strummer - Anyone remember Big Audio Dynamite II? Shite. It probably is the reason there's been no reunion attempt over the past 8 years.
Lynyrd Skynyrd w/o Ronnie Van Zant - They still play...I say "they"...Gary Rossington is the only original member in the band. I think the real band died in 1977. I'm not a huge fan of Skynyrd...can someone who really likes them confirm that "Freebird" in the 80's, 90's and 00's is a no go?
Queen w/o Freddie Mercury - They did a few reunion tours with Paul Rodgers, the lead singer of Bad Company. Hahahahahahaha...ahem. I suppose that's why we never heard anything about it the shows.
Nirvana w/o Kurt Cobain - never attempted. Dave Grohl proves that if you have the talent, you don't have to hang onto the past to promote yourself. You don't have to use the corpse of a dead friend as a launching pad.
There are those bands, however, that cannot replace their lead. For example, you can't replace Jack White in, well, any of his bands. Here's a list I compiled over the past couple of hours when I should have been sleeping:
Sublime w/o Bradley Nowell - The drummer and bass player are recording new songs and making dates, and they first tried to just use "Sublime". Ugh. Really? Reading about these guys gave me the idea for this post, actually. They were actually sued by the Nowell estate when they tried to perform as Sublime saying, and I'm paraphrasing, "Hey, fuckos, Bradley was Sublime...is he making an appearance that we're not aware of? Then suck it." Rome Ramirez has joined them, so they've finally nailed down their name: Sublime with Rome. Wow...way to try to make it on your own merits. Terrible. F.
Blind Melon w/o Shannon Hoon - They're still together, trying to find a new lead singer. You know, I don't think I'd watch them if Hoon was still alive.
The Doors w/o Jim Morrison - In 2002 Ray Manzarek and Robby Krieger tried to form a new version of The Doors called "The Doors of the 21st Century". Ex-drummer John Densmore sued them, basically saying, "Seriously? Knock it off." Densmore, much like Led Zeppelin's John Paul Jones, are all about preserving the past, "fuck the reunion tours".
Creedence Clearwater Revival w/o John Fogerty (and Tom Fogerty) - John Fogerty tours on his own...under his own name, singing the songs he wrote. You know...ALL OF THEM. "Creedence Clearwater Revisited" is a group featuring the fucking bass player and drummer. I wonder if CCR's old sound man and guitar tech formed a band too.
Morphine w/o Mark Sandman - Drummer and sax player created Orchestra Morphine, which is a group of friends and fellow musicians who play occasionally to celebrate the existing music and raise money for the Mark Sandman Music Education Fund. Let's just hope they leave it at that.
INXS w/o Michael Hutchence - Well, Andrew Farriss composed the music...and two of his brothers are in the band...sure, if you pick the right person, you could continue as INXS...I don't know if going the route of a fucking reality show was the way to go. I think I'll just listen to old albums and skip the new crap.
The Clash w/o Joe Strummer - Anyone remember Big Audio Dynamite II? Shite. It probably is the reason there's been no reunion attempt over the past 8 years.
Lynyrd Skynyrd w/o Ronnie Van Zant - They still play...I say "they"...Gary Rossington is the only original member in the band. I think the real band died in 1977. I'm not a huge fan of Skynyrd...can someone who really likes them confirm that "Freebird" in the 80's, 90's and 00's is a no go?
Queen w/o Freddie Mercury - They did a few reunion tours with Paul Rodgers, the lead singer of Bad Company. Hahahahahahaha...ahem. I suppose that's why we never heard anything about it the shows.
Nirvana w/o Kurt Cobain - never attempted. Dave Grohl proves that if you have the talent, you don't have to hang onto the past to promote yourself. You don't have to use the corpse of a dead friend as a launching pad.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Love Hurts
I was reminded today how little I enjoy weddings in my current state.
The obvious annoyances are the traditions that aren't necessary for the joining of a man and a woman, but they occur anyway. One of these is mini-sermon that is neatly thrown into the wedding ceremony centered around 1 Corinthians 13:4-7. "Love is patient, love is kind..." Yeah, yeah, yeah...we know. Love is awesome and shouldn't be taken lightly and it's the greatest thing since sliced bread. Come on, padre, wrap this up so we can drink!
Then there's the toast...if it's organized with the best man and maid of honor giving prewritten toasts, it's bearable. But a lot of the times, it's just left open for any relative (or worse, friend of a relative) to pipe up with, "I just think you guys are great and, oh look at me, I'm tearing up..." Oh, man, come on, lady...
You have to be careful with leaving it open or everybody and their drunk aunt will throw in their two cents. "I'm the janitor here, and although I've only known the bride and groom for 20 minutes, I feel like I've known them all their lives. Cheers."
Then we get to watch the bride and groom dance awkwardly to a song that's not easy to dance to. It's usually a tune picked out because of lyrical content without a thought given to, "Will this make the couple look any whiter and rhythmless than they already are?" Let's follow that up with dancing with parents! Come on, everybody! Shift uncomfortably in your chairs and swig more wine if it's available.
(Oh, and hooray for free alcohol at a wedding. If you have a wedding with no booze or worse, booze you have to pay for at a cash bar, shame on you. You are the reason most of us own flasks.)
The biggest practical joke of the night is the tossing of the bouquet and garter. "Hey, single people! Let's call attention to the fact that you are alone! And hey, we're going to have you all fight over something the newly married couple will throw at you...like the rich giving their scraps to the poor."
If you can make it through all of this, and there's a fully stocked bar and competent DJ at your disposal, you can salvage the evening in the remaining 1-2 hours of the reception. Once cake is cut and eaten and the old people leave, you can get ripped and start freaking to hardcore shit on the dance floor. A lucky few may even hook up, especially if you've given bridesmaids their own rooms in the hotel where you're holding the reception.
I'm not a fan of weddings because I was engaged a year ago. Flaunting a happy couple beginning their life together in front of me is an unintentional slap in my fucking face. It's a nice little reminder of what could have been mine had I made few decisions differently in the past. You might as well drive by me at the bus stop in a 1968 Ford Mustang GT, shouting, "If you had saved all that money you spent on your DWI's, you could have bought this!"
Then you could get out of the car and slap me in the face with my own hand saying, "Why are you hitting yourself? Why are you hitting yourself?"
Uh...forget that last part.
Here's what I do know: no amount of alcohol will make the pain of love lost go away. You might forget for a short time, but it'll come back to you the next morning paired up with a hangover. Plus, there will be something you did the night before you will regret once you remember it...or be shown it thanks to a buddy's camera phone.
Love does hurt sometimes...but you know, I like what Waylon Goddamn Jennings said: "I'd rather have love for just one hour than have the world and all it's gold." Sounds better than the Lord Tennyson line, "'Better to have loved and lost..."
Both are true. It doesn't make it any easier, though, does it?
The obvious annoyances are the traditions that aren't necessary for the joining of a man and a woman, but they occur anyway. One of these is mini-sermon that is neatly thrown into the wedding ceremony centered around 1 Corinthians 13:4-7. "Love is patient, love is kind..." Yeah, yeah, yeah...we know. Love is awesome and shouldn't be taken lightly and it's the greatest thing since sliced bread. Come on, padre, wrap this up so we can drink!
Then there's the toast...if it's organized with the best man and maid of honor giving prewritten toasts, it's bearable. But a lot of the times, it's just left open for any relative (or worse, friend of a relative) to pipe up with, "I just think you guys are great and, oh look at me, I'm tearing up..." Oh, man, come on, lady...
You have to be careful with leaving it open or everybody and their drunk aunt will throw in their two cents. "I'm the janitor here, and although I've only known the bride and groom for 20 minutes, I feel like I've known them all their lives. Cheers."
Then we get to watch the bride and groom dance awkwardly to a song that's not easy to dance to. It's usually a tune picked out because of lyrical content without a thought given to, "Will this make the couple look any whiter and rhythmless than they already are?" Let's follow that up with dancing with parents! Come on, everybody! Shift uncomfortably in your chairs and swig more wine if it's available.
(Oh, and hooray for free alcohol at a wedding. If you have a wedding with no booze or worse, booze you have to pay for at a cash bar, shame on you. You are the reason most of us own flasks.)
The biggest practical joke of the night is the tossing of the bouquet and garter. "Hey, single people! Let's call attention to the fact that you are alone! And hey, we're going to have you all fight over something the newly married couple will throw at you...like the rich giving their scraps to the poor."
If you can make it through all of this, and there's a fully stocked bar and competent DJ at your disposal, you can salvage the evening in the remaining 1-2 hours of the reception. Once cake is cut and eaten and the old people leave, you can get ripped and start freaking to hardcore shit on the dance floor. A lucky few may even hook up, especially if you've given bridesmaids their own rooms in the hotel where you're holding the reception.
I'm not a fan of weddings because I was engaged a year ago. Flaunting a happy couple beginning their life together in front of me is an unintentional slap in my fucking face. It's a nice little reminder of what could have been mine had I made few decisions differently in the past. You might as well drive by me at the bus stop in a 1968 Ford Mustang GT, shouting, "If you had saved all that money you spent on your DWI's, you could have bought this!"
Then you could get out of the car and slap me in the face with my own hand saying, "Why are you hitting yourself? Why are you hitting yourself?"
Uh...forget that last part.
Here's what I do know: no amount of alcohol will make the pain of love lost go away. You might forget for a short time, but it'll come back to you the next morning paired up with a hangover. Plus, there will be something you did the night before you will regret once you remember it...or be shown it thanks to a buddy's camera phone.
Love does hurt sometimes...but you know, I like what Waylon Goddamn Jennings said: "I'd rather have love for just one hour than have the world and all it's gold." Sounds better than the Lord Tennyson line, "'Better to have loved and lost..."
Both are true. It doesn't make it any easier, though, does it?
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Something Positive I Needed To Post
I tried to thank everyone who came out to my benefit show last week or who donated online. I wanted to let you know one more thing:
It was a rare blessing to get to see how much people actually care for me. I think truthfully I needed that even more than the money.
It was a rare blessing to get to see how much people actually care for me. I think truthfully I needed that even more than the money.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
I Hope This Ruins Romantic Comedies For You
This is for my friends and others who choose to watch awful buckets of shit romantic comedies knowing quite well that they are assisting in the death of creativity's soul.
"Hey, it was free...I saw it online."
"I got it through Netflix."
You know what's free online? A video of Tom Sizemore having sex. Yeah, that's right. THAT guy.
Just because it's available doesn't me I'm gonna watch it.
"I needed something to watch with this chick on our first date."
Way to make that first impression be, "I have no judgment and secretly pleasure myself to Ashton Kutcher and Justin Long."
"Dude, Charlie Day/Zach Galafianakis has a small part in it."
Remember when you thought Jack Black was funny? He found himself appearing in horrible films/TV shows and thought he could scat his way through it. Insert "scat means poop!" joke here.
Some people are naturally hysterical, but man...it helps to have a Judd Apatow, Rob McElhenney/Glenn Howerton, Joel/Ethan Coen behind you providing "kitten mittens" or "shut the fuck up, Donnie".
Please quit trying to fill 90 minutes with awkward situations and misunderstandings...Obviously, someone finds this funny since they're releasing a 3rd Focker movie. "Meet the Holiday Paycheck" I think it's called.
Seriously, fuck you Ben Stiller. I know the plan is for everyone to despise you by the end of your movies at the same time generating sympathy from the movie-going sheep. No sympathy from me, asshole. All you have to do is get everybody together in a room and straight up ask "what's the deal", clear up the misunderstandings and go have fucking turkey. "Why even bother?" GAH, I hope she leaves you for somebody taller!
If you start demanding enough indie films that kick ass, it could possibly generate a small fad. Probably not, but it's worth checking out an unknown blond actress in something you've never heard of instead of watching Isla Fisher fall down again while fighting your natural gut feeling that this girl should not be getting as much work as she currently is.
Or you know what? Forget it. Enjoy "Along Came Polly".
(Seriously, go fuck yourself, Ben Stiller.)
"Hey, it was free...I saw it online."
"I got it through Netflix."
You know what's free online? A video of Tom Sizemore having sex. Yeah, that's right. THAT guy.
Just because it's available doesn't me I'm gonna watch it.
"I needed something to watch with this chick on our first date."
Way to make that first impression be, "I have no judgment and secretly pleasure myself to Ashton Kutcher and Justin Long."
"Dude, Charlie Day/Zach Galafianakis has a small part in it."
Remember when you thought Jack Black was funny? He found himself appearing in horrible films/TV shows and thought he could scat his way through it. Insert "scat means poop!" joke here.
Some people are naturally hysterical, but man...it helps to have a Judd Apatow, Rob McElhenney/Glenn Howerton, Joel/Ethan Coen behind you providing "kitten mittens" or "shut the fuck up, Donnie".
Please quit trying to fill 90 minutes with awkward situations and misunderstandings...Obviously, someone finds this funny since they're releasing a 3rd Focker movie. "Meet the Holiday Paycheck" I think it's called.
Seriously, fuck you Ben Stiller. I know the plan is for everyone to despise you by the end of your movies at the same time generating sympathy from the movie-going sheep. No sympathy from me, asshole. All you have to do is get everybody together in a room and straight up ask "what's the deal", clear up the misunderstandings and go have fucking turkey. "Why even bother?" GAH, I hope she leaves you for somebody taller!
If you start demanding enough indie films that kick ass, it could possibly generate a small fad. Probably not, but it's worth checking out an unknown blond actress in something you've never heard of instead of watching Isla Fisher fall down again while fighting your natural gut feeling that this girl should not be getting as much work as she currently is.
Or you know what? Forget it. Enjoy "Along Came Polly".
(Seriously, go fuck yourself, Ben Stiller.)
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Thanks For Giving
The benefit went very well, by the way. Thanks to Carey Denise, Ramin Nazer and others, almost $1500 was raised to help me with rent and bills...but mainly rent while I try to get a job. You can still donate at http://www.comedygold.org/ if you would like to contribute to the mountain of debt I'm climbing.
Wait, that's not the right analogy. If you would like to sink the ship of transgressions...Fuck it. Wanna help my ass out? You still can: http://www.comedygold.org/
There.
Wait, that's not the right analogy. If you would like to sink the ship of transgressions...Fuck it. Wanna help my ass out? You still can: http://www.comedygold.org/
There.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Lyrics, man Pt. 2
I've heard this song many times, by different people. Tonight the lyrics finally hit me.
Hallelujah, by Leonard Cohen
Now I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
It goes like this
The fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you
To a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah
Baby I have been here before
I know this room, I've walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you.
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
Love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
There was a time you let me know
What's really going on below
But now you never show it to me, do you?
And remember when I moved in you
The holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Maybe there’s a God above
But all I’ve ever learned from love
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you
It’s not a cry you can hear at night
It’s not somebody who has seen the light
It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
You say I took the name in vain
I don't even know the name
But if I did, well really, what's it to you?
There's a blaze of light
In every word
It doesn't matter which you heard
The holy or the broken Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
I did my best, it wasn't much
I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch
I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you
And even though
It all went wrong
I'll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, by Leonard Cohen
Now I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
It goes like this
The fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you
To a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah
Baby I have been here before
I know this room, I've walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you.
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
Love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
There was a time you let me know
What's really going on below
But now you never show it to me, do you?
And remember when I moved in you
The holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Maybe there’s a God above
But all I’ve ever learned from love
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you
It’s not a cry you can hear at night
It’s not somebody who has seen the light
It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
You say I took the name in vain
I don't even know the name
But if I did, well really, what's it to you?
There's a blaze of light
In every word
It doesn't matter which you heard
The holy or the broken Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
I did my best, it wasn't much
I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch
I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you
And even though
It all went wrong
I'll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Monday, November 29, 2010
Oh COME ON!
All the hair that's been pulled out thanks to the tape on my arms the last two weeks is starting to grow back and itching like a motherfucker. I don't know that pain is necessarily worse than an itch you can't scratch.
You try going to a doctor for a prescription to deal with itchy short arm hairs. If you don't get laughed out of the office or thrown out by security, you'll go home with nothing but a co-pay bill and a script of STFU.
You try going to a doctor for a prescription to deal with itchy short arm hairs. If you don't get laughed out of the office or thrown out by security, you'll go home with nothing but a co-pay bill and a script of STFU.
Okay, Now What Do I Do?
There's nothing like being bored AND broke.
I'm restless...I don't want to watch TV, read a book or play a fucking game. I have a cigarette, then count how few I have left and immediately regret smoking that one.
I sleep, stare at the clock and drink coffee. This week, I will add "look for a job" to that list. I feel lost sometimes.
I've been listening to the radio for multiple hours, specifically 107.7 The End out of Seattle. Remember growing up and listening to the radio at night while you thought about that guy/girl you like in high school? I've come full circle.
I'm hoping my nerves settle. I hope I can just calm down and enjoy the moment. I'm not in jail, rehab or dead. Be thankful, right?
But what do I do now?
I'm restless...I don't want to watch TV, read a book or play a fucking game. I have a cigarette, then count how few I have left and immediately regret smoking that one.
I sleep, stare at the clock and drink coffee. This week, I will add "look for a job" to that list. I feel lost sometimes.
I've been listening to the radio for multiple hours, specifically 107.7 The End out of Seattle. Remember growing up and listening to the radio at night while you thought about that guy/girl you like in high school? I've come full circle.
I'm hoping my nerves settle. I hope I can just calm down and enjoy the moment. I'm not in jail, rehab or dead. Be thankful, right?
But what do I do now?
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Sometimes It's All About Me
It's good to have friends. A couple of my comedian buddies set up a way to donate to help my unemployed and recovering ass:
http://www.comedygold.org
I wouldn't promote this if I didn't really need help.
I do need help. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.
http://www.comedygold.org
I wouldn't promote this if I didn't really need help.
I do need help. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Tonight...
...for the simple reason that I need to distract myself from being out of pain meds AND cigarettes, is "Denzel Washington is a Badass" night. I'm watching "Training Day", "Book of Eli" and "Man On Fire" tonight.
"Man on Fire" is one of my favorites. You want to set Denzel off, you mess with a little blond white girl, apparently.
I almost went with "Ethan Hawke Is A Whiny Bitch" night, but there were too many of his movies to choose from.
"Man on Fire" is one of my favorites. You want to set Denzel off, you mess with a little blond white girl, apparently.
I almost went with "Ethan Hawke Is A Whiny Bitch" night, but there were too many of his movies to choose from.
Monday, November 22, 2010
I'm Not Dead Yet...I'm Getting Better...
I must be getting better. Within the past 24 hours I've bitched online about the Beatles on iTunes and Kid Rock's new album. When trivial shit irritates me, it means I'm feeling close to normal...at least at that moment.
A friend picked me up for dinner then coffee and smokes. It was nice getting out and acting like a normal fucking human being. He and I reflected over all the shit he and I had been through in the past 6 or 7 years...which is a lot. We came to the conclusion that we were still alive, and neither he nor I have any kids (that we know of). So we've got that going for us.
The doctor says my arm is healing well, and that the wound "looks great". Gah. My arm looks like part of the game "Operation"...there's a piece of my arm missing, and they filled the hole with tomato sauce. Yeah, that's gross. You should see it. No, you shouldn't...which is why I have no picture to show you...it's fucked.
My strength is coming back. Pretty soon, I'll be healthy and ready to be rejected at job interviews. Hope hope.
A friend picked me up for dinner then coffee and smokes. It was nice getting out and acting like a normal fucking human being. He and I reflected over all the shit he and I had been through in the past 6 or 7 years...which is a lot. We came to the conclusion that we were still alive, and neither he nor I have any kids (that we know of). So we've got that going for us.
The doctor says my arm is healing well, and that the wound "looks great". Gah. My arm looks like part of the game "Operation"...there's a piece of my arm missing, and they filled the hole with tomato sauce. Yeah, that's gross. You should see it. No, you shouldn't...which is why I have no picture to show you...it's fucked.
My strength is coming back. Pretty soon, I'll be healthy and ready to be rejected at job interviews. Hope hope.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Vices Are Not Hobbies
What I'm going to point out will probably just generate "duuuhhh" from everyone who reads it. I don't care, though. I'm going to do it just to encourage me to keep on the same path.
When you have an addictive personality and really love your vices, you will find yourself centered around said vices. That's all you think about, and that's all you live for. It sucks, actually, because I got into my vices because, well, they're fun. I envy people who can enjoy them and then go back to their lives with little-to-no consequences. Those people who can smoke, drink and do drugs on the weekend and then go back to being a non-smoking day job-having jag-off during the week? Yeah, you suck. Congrats on your ability to master moderation. Douchebags. I envy you.
You should take inventory of your life sometime. It'll depress the shit out of you if you're anything like me.
5 years ago, my interests were: booze, bar life, stand-up comedy, country dancing (at bars with live music).
3 years ago: booze, bar life, stand-up comedy, drugs.
1 year ago: drugs.
Today: reading, writing, skateboarding, meditation, Seattle radio/music (past and present), Sodoku/Crossword puzzles...and motherfucking stand-up comedy.
Here's the thing, though. Unlike a lot of people I've met in recovery and 12-step programs, I don't think alcohol and drugs are evil. I'm not going to tell you to just say no and shit like that. Live your life and have a good time. Just be careful and don't make your entire life be about the vice or vices.
Oh, and speaking of...and I'm quitting smoking again.
Smoke-free, take 37. Action!
When you have an addictive personality and really love your vices, you will find yourself centered around said vices. That's all you think about, and that's all you live for. It sucks, actually, because I got into my vices because, well, they're fun. I envy people who can enjoy them and then go back to their lives with little-to-no consequences. Those people who can smoke, drink and do drugs on the weekend and then go back to being a non-smoking day job-having jag-off during the week? Yeah, you suck. Congrats on your ability to master moderation. Douchebags. I envy you.
You should take inventory of your life sometime. It'll depress the shit out of you if you're anything like me.
5 years ago, my interests were: booze, bar life, stand-up comedy, country dancing (at bars with live music).
3 years ago: booze, bar life, stand-up comedy, drugs.
1 year ago: drugs.
Today: reading, writing, skateboarding, meditation, Seattle radio/music (past and present), Sodoku/Crossword puzzles...and motherfucking stand-up comedy.
Here's the thing, though. Unlike a lot of people I've met in recovery and 12-step programs, I don't think alcohol and drugs are evil. I'm not going to tell you to just say no and shit like that. Live your life and have a good time. Just be careful and don't make your entire life be about the vice or vices.
Oh, and speaking of...and I'm quitting smoking again.
Smoke-free, take 37. Action!
Saturday, November 20, 2010
I Am Not House
A friend of mine said, "Dude, you're House now." This would be due to the injury and pain medication dominating my waking hours. He was being "hilarious" and not that serious, I imagine.
Funny thing is, my icon on instant messenger programs like AOL IM/iChat was a picture of Hugh Laurie as "House", and it is one of my favorite shows. If you have a show where the lead character is a drug-addicted asshole, chances are I'll be a fan (see: Californication).
You ask me if I want to be House, I'd have to ask, "Which season?" I don't want to be the Dr. House stuck in the looney bin or being harassed by a cop with an agenda. For a while, I wanted to be that character, and in a lot of ways I was. I kicked ass at my day job at a video game company, I had the attitude, and I was a full-blown addict. Of course, "House, MD" is just a fucking TV show, but even in fiction the character struggled with his demons and addiction. Well, guess what...so have I. I don't work at that job anymore for a reason. I self-destruct slowly...but when I blow up, I explode big. It took my apartment and my heart with it.
There's a major "cool" factor that goes along with being a creative fuck-up. Fans of Charles Bukowski, Hunter S. Thompson and/or William S. Burroughs will tell you they wished they lived that kind of life, even if just for a little while. Yeah...but there's a whole lot of fucked up shit you have to go through to live that kind of life, whether it be a heroin addict, major alcoholic or gun-toting booze-filled pill-popping journalist. Bukowski drank himself to death, Hunter shot himself when the pain was too great and Burroughs? Well...his bio ain't pretty.
I've been both the world class drunk and the junkie. I just forgot to be successful while doing both. Typical me...rock star lifestyle without the rock star money. That comes out to an assful of debt, major addiction issues, failing health and lots of time to yourself wondering, "What did I do?"
I waited 'til the last minute to clean up my act...I figured losing everything was enough, but I hadn't lost my health. That is what I am paying penance for now. I told a friend of mine the other day that I was like Job, only without being a good guy and close to God.
"So, you're actually more like Sodom and Gomorrah?"
"Okay, yeah...but without the butt sex."
So, all of my experiences and my actions make up what I am today...me and my persona, John Fucking Rabon. JFnR can turn the pain into an interesting blog or a great onstage bit...one that makes some audience members uncomfortable but most laugh and say, "I'm glad that didn't happen to me! Yuk Yuk!"
As for the real me, I'm pretty sure my self-destructing days are behind me. The problem is how to put Humpty Dumpty back together now. I've been to the edge, and I'll never be the same because of it. I made it back alive, but I brought back with me some major scars and a felony conviction (oops). How do I get back on track and back into society? The jury is out on that. I guess stay tuned? It's going to take some work, some time and a shitload of help from people who care about me. And thank Christ, there are actually people who care.
So, no, I am not House. And I don't want to be him anymore.
Funny thing is, my icon on instant messenger programs like AOL IM/iChat was a picture of Hugh Laurie as "House", and it is one of my favorite shows. If you have a show where the lead character is a drug-addicted asshole, chances are I'll be a fan (see: Californication).
You ask me if I want to be House, I'd have to ask, "Which season?" I don't want to be the Dr. House stuck in the looney bin or being harassed by a cop with an agenda. For a while, I wanted to be that character, and in a lot of ways I was. I kicked ass at my day job at a video game company, I had the attitude, and I was a full-blown addict. Of course, "House, MD" is just a fucking TV show, but even in fiction the character struggled with his demons and addiction. Well, guess what...so have I. I don't work at that job anymore for a reason. I self-destruct slowly...but when I blow up, I explode big. It took my apartment and my heart with it.
There's a major "cool" factor that goes along with being a creative fuck-up. Fans of Charles Bukowski, Hunter S. Thompson and/or William S. Burroughs will tell you they wished they lived that kind of life, even if just for a little while. Yeah...but there's a whole lot of fucked up shit you have to go through to live that kind of life, whether it be a heroin addict, major alcoholic or gun-toting booze-filled pill-popping journalist. Bukowski drank himself to death, Hunter shot himself when the pain was too great and Burroughs? Well...his bio ain't pretty.
I've been both the world class drunk and the junkie. I just forgot to be successful while doing both. Typical me...rock star lifestyle without the rock star money. That comes out to an assful of debt, major addiction issues, failing health and lots of time to yourself wondering, "What did I do?"
I waited 'til the last minute to clean up my act...I figured losing everything was enough, but I hadn't lost my health. That is what I am paying penance for now. I told a friend of mine the other day that I was like Job, only without being a good guy and close to God.
"So, you're actually more like Sodom and Gomorrah?"
"Okay, yeah...but without the butt sex."
So, all of my experiences and my actions make up what I am today...me and my persona, John Fucking Rabon. JFnR can turn the pain into an interesting blog or a great onstage bit...one that makes some audience members uncomfortable but most laugh and say, "I'm glad that didn't happen to me! Yuk Yuk!"
As for the real me, I'm pretty sure my self-destructing days are behind me. The problem is how to put Humpty Dumpty back together now. I've been to the edge, and I'll never be the same because of it. I made it back alive, but I brought back with me some major scars and a felony conviction (oops). How do I get back on track and back into society? The jury is out on that. I guess stay tuned? It's going to take some work, some time and a shitload of help from people who care about me. And thank Christ, there are actually people who care.
So, no, I am not House. And I don't want to be him anymore.
The Walking Dead
Great series, right? It's nice to have quality TV for once...something different than an hour of following a Z-list celebrity's daily life or seeing the inner workings of a fucking pawn shop. However, the subject line isn't about the show.
I'm in a weird place right now. I sleep a lot, and when I'm awake I dose myself to ignore the throbbing reminder of my current woe. I watch the time tick away as if I'm waiting for an upcoming event, but there isn't anything coming up soon. The benefit show for me is December 1st, but between then and now, I just have time.
Time for what? To recover...to start looking for a job again...but what else? I don't know where I fit in anymore. I'm not a bar fly anymore. I don't want to belong with the 12-steppers, but I can't really hang out with my existing friend base either...at least not like I used to.
"What are you going to do with your life?" I...um...wanna rock? I wish it was that simple. I wish the answer to life was a Twisted Sister video, because then I would have an ultimate goal and sense of purpose. Right now, I feel I have neither. I currently do nothing but exist. I eat, sleep, take pills and move my arm around 'til it hurts.
It's a struggle to be creative. I'm forcing myself right now to write this. I wish I could spend all my free time creating...writing...but I just don't feel up to it yet. It doesn't seem like I have anything to say.
What am I waiting for? I don't think there is anyone who can save me from this. I'm going to have to pull myself out of this rut I've made and jumped into. I can probably get out of it...just not today.
I'm in a weird place right now. I sleep a lot, and when I'm awake I dose myself to ignore the throbbing reminder of my current woe. I watch the time tick away as if I'm waiting for an upcoming event, but there isn't anything coming up soon. The benefit show for me is December 1st, but between then and now, I just have time.
Time for what? To recover...to start looking for a job again...but what else? I don't know where I fit in anymore. I'm not a bar fly anymore. I don't want to belong with the 12-steppers, but I can't really hang out with my existing friend base either...at least not like I used to.
"What are you going to do with your life?" I...um...wanna rock? I wish it was that simple. I wish the answer to life was a Twisted Sister video, because then I would have an ultimate goal and sense of purpose. Right now, I feel I have neither. I currently do nothing but exist. I eat, sleep, take pills and move my arm around 'til it hurts.
It's a struggle to be creative. I'm forcing myself right now to write this. I wish I could spend all my free time creating...writing...but I just don't feel up to it yet. It doesn't seem like I have anything to say.
What am I waiting for? I don't think there is anyone who can save me from this. I'm going to have to pull myself out of this rut I've made and jumped into. I can probably get out of it...just not today.
Friday, November 19, 2010
"How Are You Doing?"
For the record, this is not to induce sympathy (empathy?). I just want to let you guys know how it's going.
Friday's appointment went well with the wound care people - the wound VAC came off...I'll find out on Monday if that's a permanent thing or not. It more than likely is. That would mean we move into the area of dressing the wound every X number of days and wait for it to seal up. Pray that it does and that I don't need a plastic surgeon to do a skin graft.
Side Note: I keep wanting to type "skin graph" but that implies something completely different and weird as fuck.
Okay, now the bad news. I'm going through withdrawals from hospital pain medication. Can you believe this shit? The prescription pain meds help get through it, but it turns me into a dazed and drowsy jackass who just wants to sleep and watch bad TV.
I can tell my arm is getting better, but throbbing pain is a consistent. I'm bored here at the house, but I don't really know that I want to do anything, if that makes sense. I'm restless and worn out at the same time.
Thanks for everybody's support.
Friday's appointment went well with the wound care people - the wound VAC came off...I'll find out on Monday if that's a permanent thing or not. It more than likely is. That would mean we move into the area of dressing the wound every X number of days and wait for it to seal up. Pray that it does and that I don't need a plastic surgeon to do a skin graft.
Side Note: I keep wanting to type "skin graph" but that implies something completely different and weird as fuck.
Okay, now the bad news. I'm going through withdrawals from hospital pain medication. Can you believe this shit? The prescription pain meds help get through it, but it turns me into a dazed and drowsy jackass who just wants to sleep and watch bad TV.
I can tell my arm is getting better, but throbbing pain is a consistent. I'm bored here at the house, but I don't really know that I want to do anything, if that makes sense. I'm restless and worn out at the same time.
Thanks for everybody's support.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Well, That's Great
I was informed that I no longer am employed due to my lengthy hospital stay and upcoming recovery time. So, I'll be looking for a job soon.
I don't know if I'll be able to find another low=paying part-time job, but hopefully they're out there.
If anybody has any leads, let me know. I will be able to work in a couple of weeks, I believe.
I think I'll be getting out of here in the next day or so. Here's hoping. Thanks to all of your e-mails, calls and visits. You guys rock.
I don't know if I'll be able to find another low=paying part-time job, but hopefully they're out there.
If anybody has any leads, let me know. I will be able to work in a couple of weeks, I believe.
I think I'll be getting out of here in the next day or so. Here's hoping. Thanks to all of your e-mails, calls and visits. You guys rock.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Say Hi!
Right now, I'm blocked out of reading and posting on Facebook. Some people would call that a blessing, and in a lot of ways it is. However, many of my friends live in that fucking social circle. Who knows if it's possible to break through to some of those people and get them to come back to the primitive "e-mail" or, God forbid, phone.
Well, people, I'm recovering in Austin Heart Hospital, and I'm bored. My e-mail is smokepuppet@gmail.com and the phone # for this room is 407-7222. If you'd like to take a break from your Fun fun fun weekend and say hey, that would be cool. Could someone post this shit on my FB page?
If not, I've just discovered Sudoku, so I've got that going for me.
Well, people, I'm recovering in Austin Heart Hospital, and I'm bored. My e-mail is smokepuppet@gmail.com and the phone # for this room is 407-7222. If you'd like to take a break from your Fun fun fun weekend and say hey, that would be cool. Could someone post this shit on my FB page?
If not, I've just discovered Sudoku, so I've got that going for me.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Hospitalized.
Hey all. I'll be brief, but I figured I should update everyone who cares about my current condition/situation.
Firstly, when you hear "John's in the hospital", there's a lot of things that come to mind. Let me just say, No, not because of anything 'funny' going on. I have cellulitis.
From WebMD:
"Cellulitis is a skin infection caused by bacteria. Normally, your skin helps protect you from infection. But if you have a cut, sore, or insect bite, bacteria can get into the skin and spread to deeper tissues. If it is not treated with antibiotics, the infection can spread to the blood or lymph nodes. This can be deadly.
"Some people can get cellulitis without having a break in the skin. These include older adults and people who have diabetes or a weak immune system. These people are also more likely to develop dangerous problems from cellulitis."
My right arm was swollen to twice its normal size on Saturday. I went to the ER at Austin Heart on Halloween, and I've been here ever since. Recovery is going well, and if you want to find out more info about it, shoot me an e-mail. I'm going to be here for several days, and I am not opposed to visitors.
If I hadn't come in...staph infection leading to serious shit, but I am not contagious. (Internal infection, relax.)
I'm thankful my friends encouraged me not to try to handle this on my own, because this turned into a pretty big fucking deal. We're looking at possible skin graft and physical therapy in the near future. But I've got my family and you guys. Thanks for your support.
John
PLEASE NOTE: The WiFi at Austin Heart blocks Facebook. Seriously. I can't read or post there. So, I'll be updating here. When I found out I couldn't communicate through Facebook, I actually thought, what am I going to do? The Internet has turned us in co-dependent pussies.
Firstly, when you hear "John's in the hospital", there's a lot of things that come to mind. Let me just say, No, not because of anything 'funny' going on. I have cellulitis.
From WebMD:
"Cellulitis is a skin infection caused by bacteria. Normally, your skin helps protect you from infection. But if you have a cut, sore, or insect bite, bacteria can get into the skin and spread to deeper tissues. If it is not treated with antibiotics, the infection can spread to the blood or lymph nodes. This can be deadly.
"Some people can get cellulitis without having a break in the skin. These include older adults and people who have diabetes or a weak immune system. These people are also more likely to develop dangerous problems from cellulitis."
My right arm was swollen to twice its normal size on Saturday. I went to the ER at Austin Heart on Halloween, and I've been here ever since. Recovery is going well, and if you want to find out more info about it, shoot me an e-mail. I'm going to be here for several days, and I am not opposed to visitors.
If I hadn't come in...staph infection leading to serious shit, but I am not contagious. (Internal infection, relax.)
I'm thankful my friends encouraged me not to try to handle this on my own, because this turned into a pretty big fucking deal. We're looking at possible skin graft and physical therapy in the near future. But I've got my family and you guys. Thanks for your support.
John
PLEASE NOTE: The WiFi at Austin Heart blocks Facebook. Seriously. I can't read or post there. So, I'll be updating here. When I found out I couldn't communicate through Facebook, I actually thought, what am I going to do? The Internet has turned us in co-dependent pussies.
Friday, October 22, 2010
I Will Still Be Thirty-Something
My birthday is today (Friday). Turning 37 is not very spectacular, but after it pasts I'll be closer to 40 than to 35/mid-thirties.
I'm not afraid of turning 40 because of the age. "You're over the hill" can suck it, I don't care. It's more about my accomplishments or lack thereof. One thing I recommend not doing is comparing yourself to your parents. "When my dad was my age, he was blah and had already blah blah blah with two kids and blah..." It's depressing. Don't do it. (Unless your parents were fuck-ups, then go for it.)
Most people my age have a family, a primary care physician that is checking their prostate on a regular basis and a job that has them looking ahead towards possible retirement. I've just started an entry-level job that is part time. I've moved into a room in a house of a couple I know...I'm doing a lot of things that are very 19-to-22ish. But you know...not everyone gets a chance like this to start again. I'm very fortunate. It takes being without certain things everyone takes for granted for a few months to really appreciate your own space...your own bed...your privacy.
We'll see what happens in the next year...Happy birthday to me.
I'm not afraid of turning 40 because of the age. "You're over the hill" can suck it, I don't care. It's more about my accomplishments or lack thereof. One thing I recommend not doing is comparing yourself to your parents. "When my dad was my age, he was blah and had already blah blah blah with two kids and blah..." It's depressing. Don't do it. (Unless your parents were fuck-ups, then go for it.)
Most people my age have a family, a primary care physician that is checking their prostate on a regular basis and a job that has them looking ahead towards possible retirement. I've just started an entry-level job that is part time. I've moved into a room in a house of a couple I know...I'm doing a lot of things that are very 19-to-22ish. But you know...not everyone gets a chance like this to start again. I'm very fortunate. It takes being without certain things everyone takes for granted for a few months to really appreciate your own space...your own bed...your privacy.
We'll see what happens in the next year...Happy birthday to me.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
It's Been Time, Asshole
I've been staying with my friend on her couch for 3 months now. Alot has happened, both good and bad, but I'm moving this week to my own room...my own space. Granted, I'll be staying with 3 other people in a house, but fuck all that, I get my own goddamn room.
I've gone through several lifestyle changes in my soon-to-be 37 years on this planet. I was a preacher's kid, the head of a renegade frat on a Baptist college campus, a married man with the right house, right wife, right job, right cars and unhappy as hell, a barfly, a man who finally found true love, and a junkie. To be honest, I don't know how the fuck I'm still alive...but I am.
I'm beginning something new, and I can't help but be a little excited and scared about it. I don't know where I'm going to go from here, but I'm ready to move forward instead of treading water relying on another person or a program or whatever to help me. It's time I helped myself.
So that's what I'm going to do. Maybe by doing so I can start writing fucking jokes again.
One thing at a time, J F'n R.
I've gone through several lifestyle changes in my soon-to-be 37 years on this planet. I was a preacher's kid, the head of a renegade frat on a Baptist college campus, a married man with the right house, right wife, right job, right cars and unhappy as hell, a barfly, a man who finally found true love, and a junkie. To be honest, I don't know how the fuck I'm still alive...but I am.
I'm beginning something new, and I can't help but be a little excited and scared about it. I don't know where I'm going to go from here, but I'm ready to move forward instead of treading water relying on another person or a program or whatever to help me. It's time I helped myself.
So that's what I'm going to do. Maybe by doing so I can start writing fucking jokes again.
One thing at a time, J F'n R.
Monday, October 4, 2010
You Can Get Through This
Back is against the wall. You always wait until the last possible moment, well it's here. What are you going to do?
Quit fighting yourself and just let go.
Let go.
Quit fighting yourself and just let go.
Let go.
"Just Let Go" from Rock Sexton on Vimeo.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Lyrics, man...Damn.
Times of Trouble by Temple of the Dog
When the spoon is hot
And the needle's sharp
And you drift away
I can hear you say
That the world in black
Is upon your back
And your body shakes
So you ditch away
And you close the shades
Don't try to do it
Don't try to kill your time
You might do it
Then you can't change your mind
You've got a hold on to your time
Till your break through these
Times of trouble
When you try to talk
And the words get hard
And they put you down
Don't you stay
Don't you ditch away
I saw you swinging
Swinging your mother's sword
I know you're playing but
Sometimes the rules get hard
But if somebody left you out on a ledge
If somebody pushed you over the edge
If somebody loved you and left you for dead
You got to hold on to your time till you break
Through these times of trouble
When the spoon is hot
And the needle's sharp
And you drift away
I can hear you say
That the world in black
Is upon your back
And your body shakes
So you ditch away
And you close the shades
Don't try to do it
Don't try to kill your time
You might do it
Then you can't change your mind
You've got a hold on to your time
Till your break through these
Times of trouble
When you try to talk
And the words get hard
And they put you down
Don't you stay
Don't you ditch away
I saw you swinging
Swinging your mother's sword
I know you're playing but
Sometimes the rules get hard
But if somebody left you out on a ledge
If somebody pushed you over the edge
If somebody loved you and left you for dead
You got to hold on to your time till you break
Through these times of trouble
Thursday, September 16, 2010
My Higher Power Is Tyler Durden
In recovery, you need a higher power. What you refer to this is not as important as just putting control in it instead of yourself.
Agnostics and atheists in 12-step programs start off having an issue with this because they think they have to have a belief in God. That's not the case, really. The group conscience in the meetings you go to can be your higher power. As long as it is something bigger than yourself...that's what matters.
My higher power is Tyler Durden. Let me clarify that I don't mean specifically the fictional character from "Fight Club". I'm not putting my faith into an anarchist who looks like Brad Pitt. It's just what I call my higher power.
I'm going to go off the movie here in my explanation, not the book (which I've read). The concept is that Ed Norton's character created Tyler to free himself from his life, basically. "All the ways you wish you could be, that's me. I look like you wanna look, I fuck like you wanna fuck, I am smart, capable, and most importantly, I am free in all the ways that you are not."
Bingo. Me being in control of my life in my addiction didn't fuckin' work out all that well. So I've turned over my will and life to something bigger than myself...to whatever is out there in everyone and everything. But I refer to that presence around me as Tyler. With him in control, I let go of everything since I have no control over anything. "Tyler" leads me through my day in ways that I recently couldn't. I consider other people rather than just myself. I don't try to look at the angles in each situation I'm in...I am living my life again, and I'm trying to rebuild.
I couldn't manage my own life by myself, and I still can't. I lean on my support network and I put Mr. Durden in the driver's seat. This may sound crazy, but it works for me right now. Things will change as I move forward in recovery. We'll see what happens.
Agnostics and atheists in 12-step programs start off having an issue with this because they think they have to have a belief in God. That's not the case, really. The group conscience in the meetings you go to can be your higher power. As long as it is something bigger than yourself...that's what matters.
My higher power is Tyler Durden. Let me clarify that I don't mean specifically the fictional character from "Fight Club". I'm not putting my faith into an anarchist who looks like Brad Pitt. It's just what I call my higher power.
I'm going to go off the movie here in my explanation, not the book (which I've read). The concept is that Ed Norton's character created Tyler to free himself from his life, basically. "All the ways you wish you could be, that's me. I look like you wanna look, I fuck like you wanna fuck, I am smart, capable, and most importantly, I am free in all the ways that you are not."
Bingo. Me being in control of my life in my addiction didn't fuckin' work out all that well. So I've turned over my will and life to something bigger than myself...to whatever is out there in everyone and everything. But I refer to that presence around me as Tyler. With him in control, I let go of everything since I have no control over anything. "Tyler" leads me through my day in ways that I recently couldn't. I consider other people rather than just myself. I don't try to look at the angles in each situation I'm in...I am living my life again, and I'm trying to rebuild.
I couldn't manage my own life by myself, and I still can't. I lean on my support network and I put Mr. Durden in the driver's seat. This may sound crazy, but it works for me right now. Things will change as I move forward in recovery. We'll see what happens.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Sir Paul McCartney Needs To Quit Making Me Feel Like Shit
"For No One"
Your day breaks, your mind aches
You find that all her words
Of kindness linger on
When she no longer needs you
She wakes up, she makes up
She takes her time and doesn't
Feel she has to hurry
She no longer needs you
And in her eyes, you see nothing
No sign of love behind the tears
Cried for no one
A love that should have lasted years
You want her, you need her
And yet you don't believe her
When she says her love is dead
You think she needs you
And in her eyes, you see nothing
No sign of love behind the tears
Cried for no one
A love that should have lasted years
You stay home, she goes out
She says that long ago she knew someone
But now he's gone
She doesn't need him
Your day breaks, your mind aches
There will be times when all the things
She said will fill your head
You won't forget her
And in her eyes, you see nothing
No sign of love behind the tears
Cried for no one
A love that should have lasted years
Your day breaks, your mind aches
You find that all her words
Of kindness linger on
When she no longer needs you
She wakes up, she makes up
She takes her time and doesn't
Feel she has to hurry
She no longer needs you
And in her eyes, you see nothing
No sign of love behind the tears
Cried for no one
A love that should have lasted years
You want her, you need her
And yet you don't believe her
When she says her love is dead
You think she needs you
And in her eyes, you see nothing
No sign of love behind the tears
Cried for no one
A love that should have lasted years
You stay home, she goes out
She says that long ago she knew someone
But now he's gone
She doesn't need him
Your day breaks, your mind aches
There will be times when all the things
She said will fill your head
You won't forget her
And in her eyes, you see nothing
No sign of love behind the tears
Cried for no one
A love that should have lasted years
Monday, September 13, 2010
"Serenity Now"? I'd Settle For "Sanity Now"
Sometimes I think that maybe it's the 12-Step Program that has me stuck inside my own head. I want to think that if it were just up to me I'd just be clean and sober and go about my business, no fuss or bullshit.
RIGHT.
I've tried it my way the first half of this year. I don't know if you've noticed, but it didn't quite work out. At this point, I don't think I can't do it my way anymore. I don't know how I'm going to join real life...or "society", if you will. It's too big to think about, so we're just going to do the "one day at a time" thing and go from there.
I made several realizations this past week that have helped me deal with my damaged personal life. Out of respect to the past and to the girl I still love, I'm not going to go into any details. I do want to report that I have moved forward significantly because of these realizations/revelations. About fucking time.
RIGHT.
I've tried it my way the first half of this year. I don't know if you've noticed, but it didn't quite work out. At this point, I don't think I can't do it my way anymore. I don't know how I'm going to join real life...or "society", if you will. It's too big to think about, so we're just going to do the "one day at a time" thing and go from there.
I made several realizations this past week that have helped me deal with my damaged personal life. Out of respect to the past and to the girl I still love, I'm not going to go into any details. I do want to report that I have moved forward significantly because of these realizations/revelations. About fucking time.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Starting Over
From June 11th: "I've been going through the toughest time of my life."
Yeah...little did I know, I was really about to go through shit. Two weeks after I wrote that, I found myself single and jobless. Shortly thereafter, homeless and broke. Let's throw in my alcohol-related convictions putting a strain on job hunting and you've got yourself a personal hell.
At this point, I'm still pulling myself out of the hole I'm in, but at least I'm not at the bottom anymore. For a while there, I was camped out at the bottom with a shovel, digging. With the help of family and a few close friends, I'm making my way back to regular life. I also have a support network that I am building to keep myself from falling back down there.
I've seen the edge and dangled over it...I don't need to go back and take another look. I don't need to, but it's funny/sad how much I want to. Normal life can be fucking boring...that's the biggest danger when it comes to addiction, no matter what that monkey on your back is. You get so bored that your selective memory starts romanticizing your old life. You have to manually "play the tape out" to see what all that old life included.
I'm currently living on the couch of a close friend while working a part-time job (that I was grateful to get). I'll be slowly making several life changes over the next few months. It will be interesting to see where I go from here.
Yeah...little did I know, I was really about to go through shit. Two weeks after I wrote that, I found myself single and jobless. Shortly thereafter, homeless and broke. Let's throw in my alcohol-related convictions putting a strain on job hunting and you've got yourself a personal hell.
At this point, I'm still pulling myself out of the hole I'm in, but at least I'm not at the bottom anymore. For a while there, I was camped out at the bottom with a shovel, digging. With the help of family and a few close friends, I'm making my way back to regular life. I also have a support network that I am building to keep myself from falling back down there.
I've seen the edge and dangled over it...I don't need to go back and take another look. I don't need to, but it's funny/sad how much I want to. Normal life can be fucking boring...that's the biggest danger when it comes to addiction, no matter what that monkey on your back is. You get so bored that your selective memory starts romanticizing your old life. You have to manually "play the tape out" to see what all that old life included.
I'm currently living on the couch of a close friend while working a part-time job (that I was grateful to get). I'll be slowly making several life changes over the next few months. It will be interesting to see where I go from here.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Statuses Worth Remembering
I'm sure Facebook will one day be as irrelevant as Myspace has become. I've used both sites as venues for my writing and thoughts, and I'm sure they'll be shut down as soon as they stop making money. I figure Google will be around for a while, which is why I chose Blogger to house my shit permanently.
Here's some Facebook statuses of mine I wanted to keep:
- Skateboarding is not a crime...but the pricing on the clothes should be. $150 jeans? That's just being an asshole.
- When you've been to the edge, looked over it, and made it back alive, you can't be expected to play fucking four square on your phone.
- You will never hear the following sentence coming from the mouth of a loud, screechy drunk chick in a bar: "I feel that objectivism is really underplayed in today's culture."
- The voices in my head whine too much. "Come oooonnnn, John...can't we do something crazy today?" "Waaaaahhhh! I wanna play in traffic!" "Set yourself on fire, please? Oh, you're no fun!"
- "Today is the first day of the rest of your life."
"Yeah? Today is also the last day you get to quote shit to me with getting a cock punch."
- ROT Rally is like Austin's herpes. Austin breaks out in bikers like once or twice a year, and then it clears up.
- I never get to have sex in my dreams. My subconscious is a cock tease.
- 15 years ago, I believed in the mantra "Pain is temporary, glory is forever, and chicks dig scars." Now that I'm 36, I think the reality is: "Chicks are temporary, Scars last forever, and Glory is lost if it's not on YouTube."
- I felt less manly today when I put cinnamon in my coffee, until I pretended that "Cinnamon" was the name of a stripper.
- Last year, Dan Auerbach of the Black Keys did a solo album. You know, when you're in a band of 2, doing a solo album is kind of a dick move.
- A bum asking for change hates it when you pull the Jedi Mind Trick on them. "This isn't the mark you're looking for." (waves hand.) Bum gives dirty look and walks off. Success!
- Taylor Swift is as country as I am an Emo Jew on my period.
Here's some Facebook statuses of mine I wanted to keep:
- Skateboarding is not a crime...but the pricing on the clothes should be. $150 jeans? That's just being an asshole.
- When you've been to the edge, looked over it, and made it back alive, you can't be expected to play fucking four square on your phone.
- You will never hear the following sentence coming from the mouth of a loud, screechy drunk chick in a bar: "I feel that objectivism is really underplayed in today's culture."
- The voices in my head whine too much. "Come oooonnnn, John...can't we do something crazy today?" "Waaaaahhhh! I wanna play in traffic!" "Set yourself on fire, please? Oh, you're no fun!"
- "Today is the first day of the rest of your life."
"Yeah? Today is also the last day you get to quote shit to me with getting a cock punch."
- ROT Rally is like Austin's herpes. Austin breaks out in bikers like once or twice a year, and then it clears up.
- I never get to have sex in my dreams. My subconscious is a cock tease.
- 15 years ago, I believed in the mantra "Pain is temporary, glory is forever, and chicks dig scars." Now that I'm 36, I think the reality is: "Chicks are temporary, Scars last forever, and Glory is lost if it's not on YouTube."
- I felt less manly today when I put cinnamon in my coffee, until I pretended that "Cinnamon" was the name of a stripper.
- Last year, Dan Auerbach of the Black Keys did a solo album. You know, when you're in a band of 2, doing a solo album is kind of a dick move.
- A bum asking for change hates it when you pull the Jedi Mind Trick on them. "This isn't the mark you're looking for." (waves hand.) Bum gives dirty look and walks off. Success!
- Taylor Swift is as country as I am an Emo Jew on my period.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
You Are Not Your F**cking Khakis
Whenever people ask me, "How are you doing, John?" I answer with quotes from "Fight Club" so I sound like I'm enlightened.
"Hey, John, looking good, man. How are you? Did you find a place to stay?"
"The things you own end up owning you."
"Okaaay...so, how's the job search going? How's finances?"
"It is only after we lose everything that we are free to do anything."
"Riiight. Um...well, you hang in there, alright?"
"I haven't been fucked like that since grade school."
"What??"
"Hey, John, looking good, man. How are you? Did you find a place to stay?"
"The things you own end up owning you."
"Okaaay...so, how's the job search going? How's finances?"
"It is only after we lose everything that we are free to do anything."
"Riiight. Um...well, you hang in there, alright?"
"I haven't been fucked like that since grade school."
"What??"
Friday, June 11, 2010
It's Funny, But Not Ha-Ha Funny.
Hi guys. It's been awhile since I've written anything. It's also been a long time since I've talked or seen many of you.
I've been going through the toughest time of my life. I am usually very public in regards to my "antics", but this is a part of my life that I don't really want to write that much about. For the first time, I am actually ashamed of myself and my self-destructive behavior over the past couple of years.
Not to go into too much detail, but I want everyone to know that I appreciate everyone who gives a shit, and I'm sorry for putting some of you through hell (you know who you are). I've been clean and sober for 16 days now, and I'm getting all the help and support I need right now. Once you get over the ego, you can find people who not only know what you're going through but want to help you...which blows my fucking mind.
Anyway, last night at the Velveeta Room was a testament to what a clear-eyed John Fucking Rabon is capable of. I don't know what's next for me, and I have to admit that I'm scared as shit.
I love most of you...and I player-hate the rest.
Uncle Cranky
I've been going through the toughest time of my life. I am usually very public in regards to my "antics", but this is a part of my life that I don't really want to write that much about. For the first time, I am actually ashamed of myself and my self-destructive behavior over the past couple of years.
Not to go into too much detail, but I want everyone to know that I appreciate everyone who gives a shit, and I'm sorry for putting some of you through hell (you know who you are). I've been clean and sober for 16 days now, and I'm getting all the help and support I need right now. Once you get over the ego, you can find people who not only know what you're going through but want to help you...which blows my fucking mind.
Anyway, last night at the Velveeta Room was a testament to what a clear-eyed John Fucking Rabon is capable of. I don't know what's next for me, and I have to admit that I'm scared as shit.
I love most of you...and I player-hate the rest.
Uncle Cranky
Friday, February 5, 2010
This Just In...I'm Old Enough To Buy Cigarettes
Anyone who knows me knows I'm not a cheerful ray of sunshine or a rainbow of positive thought. I'm even worse at 8 in the morning on the way to ride on a bus full of degenerates like me (only smelly...er).
I walked into the Valero where I've bought smokes for 4 years now. The girl behind the counter grabbed the pack I asked for and then said, "It's my second day...can I see your ID?"
So...because it's your second day you are not going to use common sense or your eyes? You need practice carding old people? Great. Good for you.
I give her my ID that I know is expired. Being new, she avoids common sense again and decides to go by the book and says, "Hey Patti...this ID is expired." Patti, the manager, comes over and looks at it. She has sold me cigarettes on numerous occasions. She fucking knows who I am.
"You know, you need to have your ID renewed."
You know what, you don't work for Travis County or the state, so fuck off, really. Do you know how old I am? If I had a kid when I could first buy smokes, he'd be old enough right now to buy smokes himself. And it's not like I look younger than I am anymore. I look haggard...road hard and put away wet. I look the part of the alcoholic/addict, alright.
And you know, before you say, "Well, John, it is their right to card you and deny selling to you based on an expired ID", fuck all that. I'm not trying to buy booze, here...I'm a repeat customer that the manager has sold to. The ID looks just like me, and being expired doesn't make me any younger. Everyone in the convenient store knows I'm over 18. Common sense should sell me a pack of fucking cigarettes and get me out of the store before the unhappy mouthy powder keg inside me explodes.
Patti: "Well, you should really take care of this. We can go ahead and sell these to you this time...but..."
BOOM.
Me: "You know what? Fuck all this. I don't want them from you."
Patti: "Well, okay, sir..."
Me: "Fuck you, Patti." BAM! I kick the door open to add to my dramatic exit.
Here's the deal. The only power Patti has in her miserable boring little life is the power to allow or deny the sale of cigarettes or alcohol to people who walk into that Valero. That's all that middle-aged fake-smiling hag has to hang onto. Well fuck her and her power trip...I'm going to make the decision here, not her. My decision is to walk two blocks and buy the pack from Yin at the Good Luck Mart. All he cares about is that you have money and a pulse.
"Thank you, have a nice day."
No, no, Yin. Thank YOU.
My mood for the day has been set. Stay out of my way.
I walked into the Valero where I've bought smokes for 4 years now. The girl behind the counter grabbed the pack I asked for and then said, "It's my second day...can I see your ID?"
So...because it's your second day you are not going to use common sense or your eyes? You need practice carding old people? Great. Good for you.
I give her my ID that I know is expired. Being new, she avoids common sense again and decides to go by the book and says, "Hey Patti...this ID is expired." Patti, the manager, comes over and looks at it. She has sold me cigarettes on numerous occasions. She fucking knows who I am.
"You know, you need to have your ID renewed."
You know what, you don't work for Travis County or the state, so fuck off, really. Do you know how old I am? If I had a kid when I could first buy smokes, he'd be old enough right now to buy smokes himself. And it's not like I look younger than I am anymore. I look haggard...road hard and put away wet. I look the part of the alcoholic/addict, alright.
And you know, before you say, "Well, John, it is their right to card you and deny selling to you based on an expired ID", fuck all that. I'm not trying to buy booze, here...I'm a repeat customer that the manager has sold to. The ID looks just like me, and being expired doesn't make me any younger. Everyone in the convenient store knows I'm over 18. Common sense should sell me a pack of fucking cigarettes and get me out of the store before the unhappy mouthy powder keg inside me explodes.
Patti: "Well, you should really take care of this. We can go ahead and sell these to you this time...but..."
BOOM.
Me: "You know what? Fuck all this. I don't want them from you."
Patti: "Well, okay, sir..."
Me: "Fuck you, Patti." BAM! I kick the door open to add to my dramatic exit.
Here's the deal. The only power Patti has in her miserable boring little life is the power to allow or deny the sale of cigarettes or alcohol to people who walk into that Valero. That's all that middle-aged fake-smiling hag has to hang onto. Well fuck her and her power trip...I'm going to make the decision here, not her. My decision is to walk two blocks and buy the pack from Yin at the Good Luck Mart. All he cares about is that you have money and a pulse.
"Thank you, have a nice day."
No, no, Yin. Thank YOU.
My mood for the day has been set. Stay out of my way.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
No Subject..that I can think of
Last night somewhat under the influence, I wrote, "I've found my voice onstage. It's taken me a few years to evolve/devolve in my comedy, but it's turned into a somewhat tired disdain for society and every day life. Irritable yet amused...that's where I find myself."
This came from having a decent set at open mic at the Velveeta Room, the same club and comedy night where I started over 12 years ago. My 6 minute set wasn't spectacular, nor did anything stand out about it that I can recall. What it was that really clicked with me was how I felt onstage and how I delivered what I wanted to say (which essentially was my strong distaste for bums).
"The only thing that separates me from a bum is a mailing address and 401k."
I spent the last year doing less comedy than I have in the past twelve years since I started in Austin. This was due to a number of reasons, mainly laying low after a felony DWI conviction with 5 years probation. It was also due to staying at home with Audrey vs going out all the time, and another reason would be the drugs.
I consider this time in my life to be one of my moments where I look at myself and ask, "Well, asshole, what do we do now?"
The only answer I have is to just keep being me. It's an interesting feeling to not particularly care for yourself that much and at the same time be glad that you're you and not anybody else because you think everyone else sucks.
"I may be an asshole but at least I'm not you." - The name of my first book.
I have a feeling this time in my life will be a defining moment. We all have these moments that shape our lives forever, where years from now we look back and point at it and say, "THAT'S the moment when everything changed for me" or "And that's when I gave up hooking" or whatever.
My biggest defining moment was the summer of 1995 when I worked at Glorieta Baptist Conference Center. I'm going to post a blog soon about that summer because I went there a nice religious college kid and came back 2 1/2 months later an agnostic, chain-smoking drunk with tattoos, blond hair, foul mouth and a chip on my shoulder.
Another defining moment would be when I finally divorced my ex-wife after two years of wanting to leave. The divorce itself was not the moment. No, what I turned into with the freedom from the divorce is the moment in this case. Oh boy did I turn into something.
And we have the me of today...bouncing back and forth from being a shut-in to being social again, from writing lots of material and blogs to writer's block, from no alcohol to immersing myself into an unhealthy alternative.
Regardless, I can't help but feel like right now is the beginning...I'm taking off from here and we're just going nowhere but up from here. We may not go much higher...we might plateau after a few few, but goddammit, we're not going down, that's all I know. Up, I tell you, up.
The purpose of this was to expand on those few words I wrote 24 hours ago...to try and explain what I was trying to say yesterday. I think instead I've made less sense and rambled like a drug-addled monkey on a typewriter trying to spell out what he wants ("banana") but instead typing "cigarettes", "cocaine" and "coffee".
"Poor Fucking Monkey" - The name of my first album.
Anyway, I've got some shows I'll be lining up over the next few months that I do plan on getting recorded and dumped onto the web. Hope to see all of your smiling and puzzled faces at one or more of them.
Ask Uncle Cranky is starting to take off, too. In a perfect world, people would start paying me to give them advice without sugar-coating it and then I can stop working in a fucking cloth-covered box 40+ hours a day assisting gamer nerds with their passwords...but until then, follow my ass on Twitter. Or here.
This came from having a decent set at open mic at the Velveeta Room, the same club and comedy night where I started over 12 years ago. My 6 minute set wasn't spectacular, nor did anything stand out about it that I can recall. What it was that really clicked with me was how I felt onstage and how I delivered what I wanted to say (which essentially was my strong distaste for bums).
"The only thing that separates me from a bum is a mailing address and 401k."
I spent the last year doing less comedy than I have in the past twelve years since I started in Austin. This was due to a number of reasons, mainly laying low after a felony DWI conviction with 5 years probation. It was also due to staying at home with Audrey vs going out all the time, and another reason would be the drugs.
I consider this time in my life to be one of my moments where I look at myself and ask, "Well, asshole, what do we do now?"
The only answer I have is to just keep being me. It's an interesting feeling to not particularly care for yourself that much and at the same time be glad that you're you and not anybody else because you think everyone else sucks.
"I may be an asshole but at least I'm not you." - The name of my first book.
I have a feeling this time in my life will be a defining moment. We all have these moments that shape our lives forever, where years from now we look back and point at it and say, "THAT'S the moment when everything changed for me" or "And that's when I gave up hooking" or whatever.
My biggest defining moment was the summer of 1995 when I worked at Glorieta Baptist Conference Center. I'm going to post a blog soon about that summer because I went there a nice religious college kid and came back 2 1/2 months later an agnostic, chain-smoking drunk with tattoos, blond hair, foul mouth and a chip on my shoulder.
Another defining moment would be when I finally divorced my ex-wife after two years of wanting to leave. The divorce itself was not the moment. No, what I turned into with the freedom from the divorce is the moment in this case. Oh boy did I turn into something.
And we have the me of today...bouncing back and forth from being a shut-in to being social again, from writing lots of material and blogs to writer's block, from no alcohol to immersing myself into an unhealthy alternative.
Regardless, I can't help but feel like right now is the beginning...I'm taking off from here and we're just going nowhere but up from here. We may not go much higher...we might plateau after a few few, but goddammit, we're not going down, that's all I know. Up, I tell you, up.
The purpose of this was to expand on those few words I wrote 24 hours ago...to try and explain what I was trying to say yesterday. I think instead I've made less sense and rambled like a drug-addled monkey on a typewriter trying to spell out what he wants ("banana") but instead typing "cigarettes", "cocaine" and "coffee".
"Poor Fucking Monkey" - The name of my first album.
Anyway, I've got some shows I'll be lining up over the next few months that I do plan on getting recorded and dumped onto the web. Hope to see all of your smiling and puzzled faces at one or more of them.
Ask Uncle Cranky is starting to take off, too. In a perfect world, people would start paying me to give them advice without sugar-coating it and then I can stop working in a fucking cloth-covered box 40+ hours a day assisting gamer nerds with their passwords...but until then, follow my ass on Twitter. Or here.
Do Not Mix Up "Rabon" with "Raven", or Vice Versa
I was dicking around with my phone, trying out Google Voice Search. (Yeah, I was that bored.) I tried to google myself and I pulled up John Raven, Comedy Hypnotist from Allentown PA.
Ah shit. That's what I need...someone with a similar name as mine in the comedy industry.
"John Raven is a certified hypnotherapist and certified stage hypnotist."
How do you become certified as a hypnotist? Well, I googled it and there appears to be the IHA...the International Hypnosis Association. I bet those fuckers know how to party.
"He is the inventor of the iPhone sensation Pocket Hypnosis and has appeared in various newspapers and radio stations up and down the east coast."
Hey, iPhone owners, have you heard of the Pocket Hypnosis app? Is it a sensation?
"He also teaches hypnosis at Lehigh County Community College and Northampton County Community College, so you know you are getting a quality show from a true professional."
You know, teaching informal classes at a community college doesn't really put you in the upper echelon of instructors and teaching professionals. People teach heirloom sewing and curling, for the love of shit.
"I specialize in clean, fun entertainment, but at your request, I can dial-up the edginess to whatever level your audience is comfortable with. You're in control."
Oh I bet. Instead of acting like a chicken, that overweight lady onstage would be an inappropriate stripper. HI-larious! And predictable! And dull!
I'm sure if this knob read my bio, he'd think I was a joke too. "Ugh, look at this alcoholic jerk. I bet he uses the f-word as and adjective as well as a verb. Heh, I bet he couldn't do a corporate gig to save his life. What a loser!"
And that's fine by me. We would not have the same fans, he and I. John Raven is Bizarro World John Rabon.
You are getting sleepy...and bored...
Ah shit. That's what I need...someone with a similar name as mine in the comedy industry.
"John Raven is a certified hypnotherapist and certified stage hypnotist."
How do you become certified as a hypnotist? Well, I googled it and there appears to be the IHA...the International Hypnosis Association. I bet those fuckers know how to party.
"He is the inventor of the iPhone sensation Pocket Hypnosis and has appeared in various newspapers and radio stations up and down the east coast."
Hey, iPhone owners, have you heard of the Pocket Hypnosis app? Is it a sensation?
"He also teaches hypnosis at Lehigh County Community College and Northampton County Community College, so you know you are getting a quality show from a true professional."
You know, teaching informal classes at a community college doesn't really put you in the upper echelon of instructors and teaching professionals. People teach heirloom sewing and curling, for the love of shit.
"I specialize in clean, fun entertainment, but at your request, I can dial-up the edginess to whatever level your audience is comfortable with. You're in control."
Oh I bet. Instead of acting like a chicken, that overweight lady onstage would be an inappropriate stripper. HI-larious! And predictable! And dull!
I'm sure if this knob read my bio, he'd think I was a joke too. "Ugh, look at this alcoholic jerk. I bet he uses the f-word as and adjective as well as a verb. Heh, I bet he couldn't do a corporate gig to save his life. What a loser!"
And that's fine by me. We would not have the same fans, he and I. John Raven is Bizarro World John Rabon.
You are getting sleepy...and bored...
Friday, January 22, 2010
Excessive Coffee Machine
Here is the Flavia coffee machine that makes cappuccinos,mochaccinos, lattes and other drinks that you wouldn't find in a normal office.
How does it work?
You push the button on the machine and choose your drink. It then tells you which packet to grab.
You then stick the packet into the slot and close.
The digital readout tells you it's processing/making your mochaccino.
It tells you to enjoy it when it's done. Luckily, it also informed me that the drink was hot, so I refrained from sticking my hand in it or pouring it down my crotch...which was my intention until I read the helpful message.
Here's me forcing enjoyment of the mochaccino. I'm coming off more disturbed than happy.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Not the First and Certainly Not the Last To Say This...
Fuck Jay Leno.
"Welcome to NBC..where our new slogan is, No Longer Just Screwing Up Primetime." -- Conan O'Brien tonight.
In case you didn't hear, Jay Leno's show is being canceled. Big shocker there, huh? A watered down, half-assed Tonight Show every night at 9pm didn't do well against award-winning dramas, news specials and...well...ANYTHING that was on ABC, CBS or Fox? No shit.
Well, hooray! That's the end of the Jay Leno show, and we can get back to business as usual, right? Right?
No. NBC execs want to move Jay Leno to the 11:35 (10:35 CST) spot with a half hour show and bump Conan and the Tonight Show to 12:05. The Tonight Show has been there for over 50 years...and they want to fuck it up with the worst comedy hour on TV today. "Hey, let's cut to a half hour...because that's why it sucked. It was too long."
So I say again, fuck Jay Leno. Ever since NBC chose that corporate douche over Letterman to replace Carson, he's been bringing us mediocrity on a nightly basis. Bill Hicks was one of the first to just rip into that commercial whore. And here we are 17 years later, and he just won't get the fuck off my TV.
If you think Leno is funny and prefer him over Conan as the Tonight Show host, go ahead and check yourself into a nursing home now instead of waiting until you're the right age for it. Your sense of humor is already 70 years old. Go eat your pudding and look for "that guy with the puppet" you like so much while you're at it. That's all Leno is good for...putting old people to bed after the news is over.
The bottom line is this...when the funniest part of your show is news headlines, advertisements and articles sent in by viewers, you fucking suck.
The great thing is that Conan is not letting himself get pushed around. If they put Leno at 11:35, Conan is quitting. Go Conan. Wherever you go, I'm right there with you, Red.
"Welcome to NBC..where our new slogan is, No Longer Just Screwing Up Primetime." -- Conan O'Brien tonight.
In case you didn't hear, Jay Leno's show is being canceled. Big shocker there, huh? A watered down, half-assed Tonight Show every night at 9pm didn't do well against award-winning dramas, news specials and...well...ANYTHING that was on ABC, CBS or Fox? No shit.
Well, hooray! That's the end of the Jay Leno show, and we can get back to business as usual, right? Right?
No. NBC execs want to move Jay Leno to the 11:35 (10:35 CST) spot with a half hour show and bump Conan and the Tonight Show to 12:05. The Tonight Show has been there for over 50 years...and they want to fuck it up with the worst comedy hour on TV today. "Hey, let's cut to a half hour...because that's why it sucked. It was too long."
So I say again, fuck Jay Leno. Ever since NBC chose that corporate douche over Letterman to replace Carson, he's been bringing us mediocrity on a nightly basis. Bill Hicks was one of the first to just rip into that commercial whore. And here we are 17 years later, and he just won't get the fuck off my TV.
If you think Leno is funny and prefer him over Conan as the Tonight Show host, go ahead and check yourself into a nursing home now instead of waiting until you're the right age for it. Your sense of humor is already 70 years old. Go eat your pudding and look for "that guy with the puppet" you like so much while you're at it. That's all Leno is good for...putting old people to bed after the news is over.
The bottom line is this...when the funniest part of your show is news headlines, advertisements and articles sent in by viewers, you fucking suck.
The great thing is that Conan is not letting himself get pushed around. If they put Leno at 11:35, Conan is quitting. Go Conan. Wherever you go, I'm right there with you, Red.
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