The Angry Cup of Coffee

On a calm sunday morning I found myself at the local Starbucks sitting for coffee with a friend in the program.  It was our first "bro date".  We had hung out one time previously, serving dinner to wounded military men and it was a good time.  But this sunday morning seemed to be wrought with an air of tension. 

We sat and shared coffee and stories.  I noticed his bottle of NAKED JUICE, that claims to be organic and with no sugar added, but the sugar content in the bottle was 60grams anyway.  I was amazed.  I have begun to notice all this organic, no sugar added-type food that sits on the shelves at Trader Joe's and Whole Foods is really not all that healthy. In fact some of it is down right unhealthy.  So I made a comment to my friend, wanting to share my discovery, but I think he felt that I was somehow judging him.  He seemed offended and upset, as if I would choose a bottle of juice to attack or judge someone.  Come on I may be petty but I am not that petty.

We started talking about careers and I told him that I would like to get out of the Restuarant Industry because I want a more normal schedule and am tired with dealing with an ever increasingly moronic public.  But I also confessed that the Restaurant Industry is what I know and that I am good at it.  I could manage a fine establishment but would rather find a new career.  My already offended friend took this to mean that I was non-commital, and that I couldn't decide what I wanted.

What I am good at and what I want are two different things, or so I tried to explain.  I don't think he cared, because he basically started ranting that he didn't "believe in me" and then told me that I didn't need to get angry.  For a moment I thought he was speaking to someone else because I certainly wasn't angry or getting angry or thinking about anger. I was reeling from this sudden change in mood and trying to digest why I was suddenly being judged so harshly.

Was it a misunderstanding? Was he having a rough morning, or was it my comment about how unhealthy his juice was?

And after a minute or two of telling me he was not going to help me and that my resume was merely a rough draft he abruptly told me he had to go.

I was dumbfounded.  My desire for a relaxing cup of coffee had turned into a resentment and anger-filled rant by someone I don't really know who could probably break me in half without breaking a sweat and for a moment I thought he was going to.

We headed toward the exit, but not before I got a refill on my coffee.  Standing at the counter he threw a few more accusations my way and alot more not so subtle anger and annoyance.  He brought up the juice, and I had realized that my comments on the juice were somehow behind all of this!!!  I again tried to explain that I was commenting on the juice because I was suprised by it, not judging his choice. Of course, he then accused me of needing to justify my actions.

Oh boy.  So we headed out to the parking lot and he shook my hand and said, "so long".  I walked to my car shaking my head still trying to understand what had happened. 

I think I know what happened, and it irritates me, but I cannot control other people. I'm really disappointed in how this meeting turned out. 

Next time I think I'll just get some coffee by myself .

Hearts of Darkness

We all have a dark side. 

We go about our day smiling at strangers and talking with friends and family trying our best not to reveal our dark side. We may see glimpses of it in arguments and fights, but that is only the surface of the dark side which many of us have.  What I am referring to is the part that we mainly keep to ourselves; the part that seeks revenge and death on those who have wronged us.  That part of us that wants to kill Casey Anthony or OJ Simpson for getting away with murder, but also that part of us that wants to run the asshole off the road who has just cut us off in traffic.

Some of us have a darker side than others. Some refuse to look at their dark side, while others live in it.  We lie, we cheat, we steal and sometimes we kill.  Or at the very least we wish death on people.

But how do we control that side?  How do we hide it from others, or better yet how do we hide it from ourselves.  I guess you'd have to ask each person. 

For me there is a part that contains unconditional love and laughter, but there also lingers this "dark passenger" that wants to kill.  Wants to watch those who have wronged me suffer.

This is probably why I am so drawn to shows like Dexter and anti-hero's like Dexter, Tony Soprano, Vic Mackey and all the other sociopaths who lie, cheat and murder their way through life.

Dexter lives by a code that only guilty people will die by his hand, and his measure of guilt is if a person has murdered someone else.  But aren't there people who haven't killed others who are deserving of the same fate?

My dark side will tell you that you don't have to be a killer to deserve death.  My dark side will say alot of things to help me revel in angry emptiness.  My dark side is scary because its speaks to me in my own voice and uses my own logic to convince me of what I should not be convinced of.

Am I crazy? Am I unstable, or am I just honest.  Life is not all bubble letters and cotton candy.

Life is the light and the dark.  The sun and the moon.  Life is whatever voice we are listening to at that moment.  We just hope that we never allow ourselves to wallow to far into the deep end of the dark side.

Vengance and hatred will eat you up.  If you look closely at me, you'll see bits of flesh that have been gnawed and clawed from my body. And sometimes that smile you see, hides very dangerous thoughts.

The Code

Sick people lie!
Sick people lie!
Sick people lie!

Nope, doesn't make me feel better to say that or know that!

Who can you trust?
What can you trust?
When can you trust?

Sick people lie!
Sick people lie!

There is no code for them.
No code.

The Too Much Cummer

I have been watching the wonderful TV show, HUNG, about a female pimp and her male prostitute.  Early on in season one she asks him why he never called her back after they fucked one night.

His reply was, "You cum to much."

I laughed but then got to thinking, "Can a woman cum to much"?  And then I delved back into the short lived, but interesting relationship that I just got out of and answered, "Yeah, possibly".

Jane Adams plays the female pimp on the  show.


And what's funny is she resembles the woman I just dated.  And Jane's character's personality mirrors my ex's personality so much in that they are both women who are desperate to show they are strong and will not be pushed around.  The love making is another form of showing that desperation.

The woman I dated would quiver the moment your lips locked with hers, and I am not complaining, I wish other women had such responsiveness, but then it got to be a bit too much.  She would cling to me like a t-shirt that was three sizes too small for my body.  She'd wrestle her way closer to me, as if being inside of her wasn't close enough.  I know everyone says, "Oh god" and, "Oh fuck" when they are fucking and also, "oh (insert name here)", but she was non-stop with it.  And soon her voice and her body were quivering in syncopation and she'd rev up more and more until it started to sound like she was crying. 

It's at the moment of crying or sounding like crying where I found myself getting concerned.  I like getting a woman off, but I don't see where crying enters into it.  Now in her defense I never saw any actual tears, but all the same it seemed like she was crying.

So after we had finished our relationship and I watched HUNG, I chuckled when I realized the similarities between these two women and their tendency to "cum" to much. 

In the end, truthfully, a woman can never cum to much.  Its how they show their sexuality and I'd rather them be loud and clingy, then lay there as if they had died a week earlier.  That's the worst.
I dated someone like that before and the sex was awful. She had no responsiveness at all.  But I digress.

But I do gotta admit, crying or almost crying after sex sorta freaks me out.  But I'm sure I'll learn to deal.
God does she look like Kelly.

Christmas In My Back Pocket

Well it has arrived again.  Nothing any sane man can do about it.  Christmas.  What do love most about Christmas?  It marks the end of non stop holiday music, mad dashes to the stores for gifts and groceries, and the end of the "gimme gimme" attitude that possesses so many starting the day after Thanksgiving. 

It's also hard to deny the joy of watching little children getting so excited about the gifts that Santa brought them.  Its a magical time in their lives when they believe in magic, and have no clue as to who Santa really is and how hard he/she works each day to save money to make those dreams come true.

Christmas is also a good time for families to spend together laughing and eating and telling stories about days gone by.

Its especially great this year because its 43 degrees and not a drop of snow.  Its like its still October. 

Tomorrow it'll be like Christmas never existed.  The radio stations who crammed yuletide music down my throat and up my ass will be back to playing Taylor Swift and Celine Dion. 

Then we start looking toward New Years Eve, a night so depressing to the single and lonely, it may be the end of a year for good, while to others its the eve of starting a new year, with new chances and change.

I for one will be home alone, with the cats, praying that 2012 goes a lot smoother while asking my Higher Power what more I can do to improve my life and  my sense of self satisfaction.

What a long strange trip it continues to be......

Potrait of a Loser: Edition the First

There are only a few who can achieve the status of pure loser.  Here is a photo of one such loser.  First time I met him he had one of his eyebrows shaved off because he was drunk.  He is 30 and lives at home.  He only talks to girls under the age of 23 and has no awareness of common sense or respect.  I have called the Lincoln Park Zoo to have him caged, but they won't take him.  The governement refuses to acknowledge that he exists.  He has been compared to a cross between Loch Ness and the Yetti if they had a child.

Black Swan- Movie Review

BLACK SWAN (2010)

Director:

Darren Aronofsky

Stars:

Natalie Portman, Mila Kunis and Vincent Cassel

 Darren Aronofsky follows his overrated film The Wrestler with the dark and melodramatic ballet feature, Black Swan.  It is the story of Nina Sayers played gracefully and stunningly by Natalie Portman who deservedly won the Best Actress award at this year’s Oscar’s ceremony.  The story is simple, Nina is a ballet dancer who desperately wants the feature role of the Swan Queen in Swan Lake, but the role necessitates a dancer who can portray the White Swan and Black Swan.  Nina has all the makings of the White Swan but lacks the passion and sensuality needed to do justice to the role of the Black Swan.  She is given the part anyway and we follow her slow and sometimes confusing descent into madness.

The story really is simple, but told with such originality and fear, as we follow Nina’s descent into madness.  The subtexts and symbolism are what makes this movie great.  When I was in high school I dated a dancer who spent all her free time dancing.  She didn’t have to attend half of her classes so she could be in the studio dancing.  Ultimately our relationship failed because she had no time for me, or better said, a life outside of dancing.  When she wasn’t dancing, she was sleeping, and when she wasn’t doing either of those things she was thinking about dancing. 

Nina spends the movie living completely in a world inhabited by dancing.  This has led to a great ability to dance, but has robbed her of passion, because she hasn’t lived life.  Her dedication to her art has cheated her out of experiencing many things the rest of us experience every day.  This is a part of the film I liked best.  Artists spend so much time practicing their art that they forget or just simply don’t have time or make time to experience life.  That experience is crucial in the success of whatever art medium one has chosen.  So when other girls are out having fun, having sex, and living, Nina is dancing or being kept under lock and key by her overbearing and creepy mom, played by Barbara Hershsey.  Nina doesn’t even have a lock on her bedroom door.  Her mom is her shadow making sure Nina doesn’t miss out or lose the chance at greatness that she herself seems to have lost or sacrificed.  Nina’s determination and passion coupled with her mom’s overbearing ways drives Nina out of control.  She starts hallucinating, and soon we realize that Nina’s White Swan is starting to be overcome by the birth of her Black Swan.  The Black Swan within her is fighting desperately to be released.   Nina just wants to be the best performer she can, and soon it seems as it’s at any cost. 

Nina becomes friends with Lily, played by Mila Kunis, who herself seems just like the Black Swan, and soon Nina becomes delusional as to what Lily’s intentions are.  She becomes convinced that Lily is there to steal the title role and she won’t let that happen.  Lily actually represents the Black Swan growing within Nina in real life.  Reality and fantasy becomes blurred in regards to Lily and what she is and what she does.  We, the viewer, are kept off guard because truthfully, Nina is off guard, not realizing what is happening to her.  She is finally confronted by her mother who now thinks she is out of control and she keeps Nina locked in the bedroom, but Nina will not be stopped from performing and actually assaults her mother in an effort to escape.  At this point the Black Swan has completely taken over Nina’s persona and all traces of the White Swan seem to have vanished.

The film ends with the performance of Swan Lake, and in between moments show the final descent of Nina and what extreme’s she went to achieve perfection and success.  Nina’s story is extreme, but not uncommon in the real world where people dream of and strive for stardom, success and perfection.   The story also reveals that artists need to live a life outside their art in order to better serve their art.  And sometimes we just have to accept who or what we are.

GRADE: A