Paco Called In Sick Today

Feel as if I’ve adopted insomnia though it is more as if insomnia adopted me. Awake or asleep doesn’t matter my mind is always running. A constant over saturation of ideas that are very much independent of one another. One after the other over and over with no resolve. Who have I become and what must I do to get rid of all these wasted thoughts? Are these things really important to me anymore?

Judge each other on the idea that we know anyone. Peace in the idea that we understand something we have no idea about. Ignorance is tolerated because we are all ignorant. There is no solution to any of this. Constantly asking ourselves, myself what is it that I know to be true?

We evolve in time within our minds. Not the same person I was before I died yet I feel the same as I ever have. Chasing a shadow in the dark. Searching for whatever it is that I have become. Monster or man what is the difference this far along?

At this point in time they have become one. Not sure I’m okay, but I’ll survive. Not sure I even have or had a choice in all this time. They say we do, but they also say there is a God that makes every decision for us. Conflicting conflict right there if you ask me. The world is evolve or die. God or man the laws are the same. Simple and complex all at the same time.

Because Asking Would Be Too Off Putting

Diving right into the subject on this one. I’m sure I’ll dip in and out of anything I have to say. Thought about all of this six hours ago. My favorite book of all time is Post Office by Charles Bukowski. If you haven’t read it well. Well you should have by now. Bukowski is something else. Amazon has labels, the library has a section, but to me Bukowski is life. With that said is Post Office the greatest book ever written? Probably not. Could careless if anyone or no one else likes it.

The thing about Post Office that I love so much is this feeling. This feeling that life will never get better. This feeling that life is a trap. This feeling that you will always be stuck doing the same thing forever. I struggle with these issues on a daily basis as I’m sure most of us do. This doesn’t go away as we get older. But in a sense you have to settle. I hate to use that word and by definition what I’m about to say would go against that word. You get a fucking Treasures I’m writing here.

Point is that in life not everything is perfect all the time. Not every aspect of your life is what you dreamed it would be. One realizes with time that the only power they have is to choose which aspects of their lives to focus on. You can only spin so many fucking plates until it all comes crashing down.

I work hard at my job. Ask any of them and I’m awesome or whatever, but that place could burn down tomorrow. I’d be more pissed that I now have to find another job I don’t care about then anything to do with that place.  I settled for my job. Oh well could give a fuck. I need money for things I actually care about.

I didn’t settle on my family or the time that I spend with them. I don’t settle on my writing. Maybe after draft eighteen, but most of the time I don’t. These are things that I can make perfect. Things that I can care about. Things that make me happy. Yes I have that emotion somewhere deep down in there. Things I won’t settle for.

Post Office didn’t teach me any of this. What Post Office did was made me realize I was trapped. That I was lost. That I was going to get stuck. Post Office made me think and that is why books are important. I saw the parallels that I was living to the main character, and I knew that, that was not what I wanted. I knew I didn’t want to just get by in this life. I had a goal and I needed to do more than hope. I needed to do more than let the waves drag me under. Fuck what happens. That is what Post Office left me with. This feeling that what was going to happen was going to happen anyways. Might as well fuck with it until it does. We get one life. Take a chance.

“In the morning it was morning and I was still alive. Maybe I’ll write a novel, I thought. And then I did.”

Charles Bukowski, Post Office

Chili Cinema And What We Are Doing

Land Of The Dead

Chewed on this for a bit too long, but this Saturday… Tomorrow… Little Fears, Weird Shit with Alex, I… Will be watching George A Romero’s Land of the Dead…  Thought you’d all like to know that…Oh and we will be live tweeting as we do it.. 

Starting at 9pm London (4pm U.S.) time… So check us out on Twitter… and or join us as we talk about our hopes and feelings…. The dreams that came and went…. Maybe a thing or two about blood and zombies… Honestly I’m not sure… Half the time I don’t even know what I am doing any more in this lost landscape of time… Okay I am being told to wrap it up… Now is not the time to get existential.. But tomorrow?.. Who knows…

We will be using a Service called Chili Cinema… You can rent or buy all kinds of movies… Check it out here… https://uk.chili.com/

Twitter Handles
Follow Weird Shit with Alex @SynBoomstick
Follow Little Fears @TheLittleFears 

Blog Handles? (What is this Hackers?)
Check out Little Fears: https://littlefears.co.uk/
Check Out Weird Shit With Alex: https://weirdshitwithalex.blog/

I thought about making every other word Bold just to fuck with you… So you are welcome… Also Girls Trip was available?? and we went with zombies?? Next time I’m picking the movie…

 

The Memorial Day Incident (Vulgar)

“Just a little bit further Jason I want to find a good spot for your first parade. We should have gotten here earlier,” the women increases the hold on her son’s hand as they pass through the crowd. The child looks scared and continues to mumble louder and louder after each person he brushes past. “What are you saying Jason?” The mother stops in the crowd to hear her son. “I raped that little girl and it burns in my mind. I wonder if she still remembers like I do, but she was so drunk she probably doesn’t,” Jason says. A look of horror comes across the mother’s face, “What are you talking about Jason?” “I don’t like the crowd mom can we go back to the car?” he asks. Ignoring his question she asks, “What were you saying before Jason?” “I didn’t say anything before mommy,” he says confused. The woman crouches down to be face to face with her son, “Yes you did and you should never repeat whatever it is you just said. You are much too young for that kind of language or to even know those words.” She looks both frightened and confused. “What words? What did I say? Are you mad at me?” Jason asks in rapid succession. The woman stands up and takes her child into her arms, “Never mind, I’m not mad at you sweetie.” “Can we go back to the car?” He asks once again. “I feel safer in the car,” he says to the asphalt. The woman puts him back on the ground and scan the area around them packed with people. “Yes, we can go back to the car,” she says disappointed. “We just have to go back through the crowd. Can you do that?” The little boy nods his head yes and she takes his hand into her. They start to make their way through the crowd and almost immediately he begins to start rambling again as he slips past people in the crowd. This time however it is a different woman who hears what he has to say. “What did he just say?” The stranger asks his mother. “Sorry?” she asks the stranger who grabs her. “What did your son just say to me?” Confused Jason’s mother tells the woman, “Nothing he is, he doesn’t know what he is saying. The crowd is making him very nervous and scared.” “That’s no excuses for lying about my father like that,” the stranger says in anger. “What?” Jason’s mother asks. “Your little bastard of a kid just said to me that my dad liked to touch me in my sleep and that I liked it. I ought a beat your little skinny ass because my dad’s a saint. Where do you get the nerve to teach your little mistake things like that and then convince him to tell complete strangers such rude things to their face?” The crowd around them grows quite to hear what they are saying. “Why is she yelling mommy?” Jason shouts. “Because she is confused,” his mother says nervously and very afraid. She tries once again to walk off. “Fuck that I’m not confused your son is just a little freak,” the stranger yells at her. “Like I said he is scared and nervous because of the crowd. He doesn’t know what he is saying and you are just making it worse for him,” she shouts over her shoulder. “I’m making it worse?” The stranger shouts after she chases after them. “I’ll show him what worse really is. Maybe it is something you should have shown him once or twice,” the stranger reaches out for Jason’s arm. “Excuses me is there a problem here?” A uniformed police officer asks as he grabs the stranger out reached hand. Jason’s mother turns to see who asks the question. Relief washes over her as she see the officer standing there. “Yes there is her fucking bastard child is making up stuff about my father and me,” the stranger says red-faced. “Ma’am the language is not appropriate. Let’s let cooler head prevail and leave these nice people alone. He is only a child he probably doesn’t even know what he said.”

The cop kneels down to be at Jason’s level. He places his hand on the child’s shoulder, “Why don’t you just say that you are sorry, and you and your lovely mother can go enjoy the rest of the parade?” Jason locks eyes with the police officer, “I shot him because he was black. I knew he didn’t have a weapon, but I shot him anyways. What’s the world with one less nigger? A better place.” The cop turns a lighter shade of pale. Transfixed on the boy’s eyes he is at a loss for words. “Oh my god Jason I can’t believe you just said that. I never taught him to say that,” his mother scans the eyes of the crowd that has gathered. A look of horror and intrigue has come over the crowd. Ashamed Jason’s mother picks him up, “That’s enough.” The cop remains kneeling staring at the spot that once contained Jason’s face. “I’m so sorry,” the mother tries to explain to the officer. “That never happened. He had a gun so I shot him,” he says to himself. The crowd grows even more somber as the officer stands up. “Told you that kid was a freak. Arrest them or something,” the stranger says. “Shut up,” the officer says to the woman. The crowd murmurs while staring at the cop. “So what if he was black?” the officer shouts with all eyes on him. “A criminal is a criminal and I did what I had to do to protect myself,” he says while scanning the crowd for any form of sympathy. “Mom I want to go home. I’m scared,” Jason puts his head in the crook of his mother’s neck. He buries his head as deep as he can as she begins to speak, “I’m going to take my son home if that is okay with you officer. He didn’t mean what he said and this has all been a very strange day.” The cop mortified doesn’t look up at her or to anyone as he speaks, “That is probably for the best.” Tears hit the pavement as they begin to walk away. The crowd stands in disbelief at what they have seen.

The mother turns to walk through the crowd once again. The crowd parts making sure to not touch them as they walk through. “That’s it?” The stranger shouts before throwing her arms down and stomping away. As his mother tries to go around a rather large man near the back of the silent crowd Jason’s foot lightly touches the man’s arm. “I buried them under my house. The smell is starting to get to the neighbors, but I’m starting to like it,” Jason says. The man has a face of shock as the crowds eyes divert to him. Jason’s mother stops dead in her tracks as someone from the crowd shouts. “Get that man.” The large man tries to get away but everyone around him refuses to move. “Move out of my way. I’ve done nothing wrong here,” the man says as he pushes against the crowd. “Just because a child says something that makes it true?” The man asks the crowd. Jason’s mother sets her son back on the ground, “What did you do?” “I didn’t do anything,” the man says nervously. “This is Officer Johnson, I need back up on the intersection of Fifth and Jackson,” the officer says into his radio. “Back up?” The man questions out loud. “There’s no need for back up. I didn’t do anything. I don’t even have neighbors,” the man becomes even more desperate as he pushes against the crowd. The officer pulls his gun from the holster, “Please put your hands behind you head.” The man stops pushing against the crowd, “Hey, watch it there trigger finger. I swear I didn’t do anything.” “Then you won’t mind getting down on the ground and putting your hands behind your head? I won’t ask again,” the officer shouts. “Okay so some crazy psycho fucking kid says something and we’re all going to believe him?” The man shouts. “This is insane. If I even did what he alleges that I did than that means you shot an innocent man? You do realize that don’t you?” The officer doesn’t put down his weapon. The crowd is still silent as the people around the man slowly back away. Unaware of what is happening behind her Jason’s mother says, “My son is not crazy. I don’t know what is wrong with him, but he is not crazy.” The man grabs her by the throat and begins to choke her. “Your son is crazy,” the man grips tighter. “Fucking say it,” he screams in her face. The officer fires two rounds just as the man pulls her closer to himself. Both shots hit her dead center in the back. The man releases his grip on the woman’s throat as she falls to her knees. Jason’s mother coughs up blood as the officer also goes down to his knees.

The crowd begins to cry and scream as they disperse in all directions. Through the madness and the chaos someone screams, “Nice job officer dip shit. I guess we will just have to add another to your list.” Jason stands there frozen in shock and fear covered in his mother’s blood. The large stranger grabs Jason by the shoulders raising him high in the air as he begins to shake him. “Why did you do this you little shit?” He screams at the child. Bits of spit follow with every word. Jason begins to cry as he screams, “I sliced her open like a deer as I fucked her until I came. Over and over I am king.” “Shut the fuck up,” the man says as he shakes him harder. “Put the kid down,” the officer tries to say but the words only fall to the ground. “Another I fucked her in her tight little ass while she bleed out on my garage floor,” Jason begins to laugh but it is not the laugh of a child. “Shut up,” the man says as he wraps his powerful hands around Jason’s throat. The man squeezes as hard as he can. Jason fights to say something else, “I prefer to asphyxiate the special ones. There is something about watching the life in their eyes slowly die out as I fill them with the beginnings of another.” Too weak to move Jason dangles there as the man chokes him, “I said shut up you little bastard.” “Put him down or I will shot,” the officer tries again.  The officer rises to his feet, “What’s another dead piece of shit?” The cop fires all of the remaining bullets, but one into the man’s body. He takes the burning hot barrel and places it into his mouth blowing out the back of his head. Back up finally arrives on the scene only to see the bodies resting on the ground and a boy standing in the middle of it all.

“True fucking story,” I tell the people across from me. A few of them are my friends and a few of them aren’t. “They even have a name for what happened even though most people back home like to pretend it never took place,” I say. “What’s it called I’ll Google it right now?” A naive girl asks from across the fire. “You won’t get 4G out here. We are in the middle of nowhere,” another girl proclaims. “Okay whatever I’ll put it in my phone and look it up later what was it called?” She takes out her phone. “What a fucking nerd,” a friend of my shouts out. Ignoring them all and in the most dramatic voice I can, “Its called the Memorial Day Incident.” A round of laughter begins around the fire. “What kind of fucking name for something is that?” Someone asks. “That story is such bull shit,” another says. “No it really happened,” a friend of mine says. “Okay then what happened to Jason?” I start to say something before being cut off. “I want him to tell me,” she demands. “What happened to Jason? That’s what you wanted to know?” My friend asks. The girl nods her head, “Yeah what happened to Jason?” “Jason died that’s what happened to him. The large man shook him so hard that his neck snapped,” my friend explains as he looks over at me. “I thought,” she begins to say. “Who else has an actual scary story to tell?”

Weatherman

The weatherman calls for rain, but then again it always rains here. The rain is cold and it is harsh against my clothes and against my skin. The rain comes down and it pours, and when it doesn’t pour it turns into mist that surrounds me to always let me know that it is there with me. The rain will never leave.

The weatherman calls for rain. He is an idiot in a village full of them. The rain builds up on the edges of the streets and seeps on to the sidewalk. The rain puddles look like lakes on the ground. I feel as if I am Jesus walking on water, but the holes in my shoes bring me closer to the ground than closer to god.

The weatherman calls for rain, but what does it matter? When it rains it pours and it makes days seem like weeks and weeks like months. Time stands still here only the rain and the weatherman are constant around me. Some days it burns and some days it heals, but its presence is always with me. I wonder what it would be like without all the rain.

The weather man calls for rain, and I assume my place once again.

 

Story blog how strange… This is a flash fiction micro tale about nothing inspired by my time in Washington State… Fun fact it rains there.. a lot.. I remember walking to work and dodging the tidal waves created by the city buses… For a place with so much rain it always seemed as the roads were flooded… Too broke to afford even the bus. I often arrived to work soaking wet.. It was very humbling and honestly some days I miss it. Maybe it’s the youth I miss… Not caring about anything… Of course that wasn’t even the case then… Everything seemed way more important than it ever actually was.. I worked in a fucking video store.. haha… 

Another reason I wrote this story was because I could careless about the weather.. Not the environment.. I care about that.. Put your fangs back in… What I mean is that I don’t care if it is raining or not… It either is or it isn’t.. So to me weather specialist are kind of pointless… Tying it all together… There might be some more symbolism in there somewhere… Not sure what it could be.. 

  

Figuring Out I Was Wrong, Still Could Be Right

It is easy to get lost in all this shit. It is easy to forget that there is a whole other world out there. One I used to be a part of. Friends that I used to know. Places I used to go and now it is the same thing over and over again. The same old bull shit. Not much longer from now this will turn into the past, and just like my current past it will all become lost again.

It’s somewhere in there already, but lost all the same. Distant memories made up of good times and bad. I miss some of it. Okay a lot of it. Times were simpler of course because they always are. Life doesn’t get any easier than the way it was before. I miss Japan. I miss the life that I had there and yet I don’t really. At the time it was alienating. It was strange. Not the country. The country is amazing. It is part of me. Anytime I hear something bad happening there or happened I feel for the people. Off point. The things that were strange about being there was that I shouldn’t have been there at all.

All day I meet people who have never left the state let alone the country. I shouldn’t have been so lucky to see another country. To experience a life and a world outside of my own. It is damaging. Good or bad it was damaging. It has caused me to be lost in this new world I must live in. This off-putting only I matter world when you and I really don’t. That’s the thing about not getting out of your bubble is that you don’t realize that you are not important. Sure you can cause a big scene maybe fuck up some people’s day, but honestly you and your whole town could vanish of the face of the earth. Life would go on. A depressing thought I know, but the truth can be that way sometimes.

They’d make a new town. Maybe not right away because a bunch of people just vanished, but over time they’d move in. People love free shit even if it might kill them. Life is so minimal that it seems to be something greater than it really is. It is all so serious when it doesn’t have to be. We are either losing out on enjoying life or at a shot to enjoy life. It comes full circle I guess. I don’t know. Maybe I am only speaking for myself with the idea that I am speaking to others.

Looking back I wasted so much time caring about what others think or how things should be. Could be my cross to bear or it could be life. Either way I am lost in this new world I am forced to live in or I am lost in the old one that I had to give up. Life is ever evolving, constantly changing, and we are all here to keep it going. Lost or not we all have our place in time.

Waiting For Something To Say

Their hollowed out eyes surround me. Lions and bastards surrounding their kill. The world has long died, buried dead within these sad eyes. The year was 2015, yesterday and you are all as fucked as me. Cunts the size of the Grand Canyon couldn’t satisfy the overwhelming need to be fucked by those around you. The world is splitting in two only one side has very little to stand on and the other more than enough to do what we all feel like we must, live.

Today marks the day that we stand before the fallen Christ of our lost generations. Pick an idol, a martyr, and march the fuck on because we are long behind. Long overdue for another cause no one gives a fuck about. Something that matters now and won’t matter to the next generation. We take so much shit for granted as if this is how it has always been when it hasn’t. Our reality is built-in virtual thoughts and ideas. Our perspective produced by man-made devices used to distract us from the very thing that holds us down from generation to generation.

We give them more money while ignoring the fact that they are taking more and more of our freedoms. At least we are free to be who we want online. At least we still have that. As long as we all feel good about that then I guess it doesn’t matter. Lies fed to us from everywhere. Becoming harder and harder to know who is right and who is wrong. Up vote if you even know what I am saying. Lies spilled out over time, ideas expressed through emotions. Does anybody remember when? Any of this ever made sense?

See the world from our screens the all new glass windows of the world. What reason do we have to live if we’ve seen it all? What reason do we have to not succumb to all of this is there are no reasons at all? Life is to easy to ever understand what it really means to live anymore. We are not the future anymore. We are very much the present and soon to be past. Nothing can stop the juggernaut that we have created, but in reality who said we ever wanted it to stop?