I am raising money to buy a van to live in part time. Why? A couple of reasons:
My current living situation is temporary. At some point in the near future I will be homeless and it would be a lot better to live out of a van as opposed to a car.
Stockton (the nearest city to me) has been hit hard by Depression 2.0. With a van (or a small, Toyota camper) I can expand my job search to the Bay Area and Sacramento and stay close to where the work is while on assignment. I can do that while maintaining a “place of residence” here in Lodi and continuing the relationships I have been building with local temp agencies.
Raising money to buy a van. Where I am living is a temporary situation and I am seriously underemployed so I am running the risk of being homeless in the near future. I know I keep posting this, but it is kind of a dire situation. Thanks!
My living situation is getting closer to the date I will need to move out. Being underemployed/unemployed I cannot afford an apartment or even a room for rent. This is part reason for raising money for a van, the rest is by having a “mobile apartment” I will be able to go around CA and the Pacific NW wherever work is. Thanks!
Yes, my blog has been proven to cure herpes, help you win that dream vacation, find true and lasting love (see #1), win some NASCAR race, and just make you so happy you’ll soil yourself*
*Side effects of spending evenings in Barry Gibb’s laundry hamper may include exposure to bad puns. Patients who are allergic to polyester shirts have reported nasty rashes in the shape of a mirror ball. You should consult your physician before engaging in any activity that may make you so happy you’ll shit your pants…
Tomorrow, you’ll be on a speedboat like you’re the star of a rap video or something—fuck yeah! All swaying back and forth to the playback, drinking overpriced sparkling wine (Is Cristal from the Champagne region of France??) and enjoying the company of attractive people in undersized swim wear. What do you have to do?? Read this blog! Can’t swim? Hate speedboats and crappy music? OK sweetheart, close your eyes, imagine your more cherished dream, store it in a safe place, read my blog, and it will come true…
“It is apparently Bad Outfit day here in Lodi. Saw two women in dresses a half blind drag queen wouldn’t touch. I haven’t seen such seizure inducing garments since we cleaned the 70s cast-offs out of the bottom of my grandmother’s closet…”——sba
I Wish I Could Fall in Love With You But I Can’t (live, very raw demo) My challenge was to write a song with one line in it so I did it this afternoon and recorded it on my iPod. I think the song has potential, but my vocals caused the mic on the iPod to clip. WORDS: The song title
“You know the first little birds to sing when night begins to die and the first traces of light cross the sky? I call them the “Oh, shit” birds. When you have insomnia and you hear them, you understand that you are either up way too late or way too early and all you can say is “Oh, shit.”——sba
That pretty much sums it up. I can write songs, but I cannot allow myself to fall in love with you. I want to, I’d enjoy it, but I’d only allow myself that luxury if you could enjoy it, too.
So I won’t.
I hear music behind the title of this like I hear music behind pretty much everything—
I Wish I Could Fall in Love With You But I Can’t
A blues rhythm, slow and snarly like something angry or at least full of passion rising from a swamp. Blues, but with much more complex melodies—
I Wish I Could Fall in Love With You But I Can’t
Music is the glass in the windows. Music is the betrayed sand in the glass. Music is the color in the bark of that old tree outside your window—
I Wish I Could Fall in Love With You But I Can’t
Maybe reincarnation is real. Maybe someday we will be born again and somehow meet and it will work out and it’ll be one of those situations where you go “You know, I felt like I’ve known you for decades.”
If that was true, part of me would die tomorrow just to meet you again.
But most of me knows I have too much work to do and maybe someone else to meet before then.
All I can do is wish you the most beautiful dreams tonight and for the rest of your life feeling like angels are watching over you…
Try the new Beef Assexplosion Mega-Burger with Lard Dipped Chicken Kluckers!
Seriously, I look around and I want to vomit in a boot. You know, money is important and sometimes fast food is like an opiate in the blood, but fuck me—a little is too much. It’d be nice not to have to worry about money, it’d be good to have some set aside, but this obsession with winning the lottery and making a shitload of money it just seems unhealthy—as unhealthy as the food we eat and how we rush around and allow ourselves to be stressed out and just get caught up in all this madness that is “our culture.”
All you need is love, man, we just all need to like be one with the moon and be all groovy!
Fuck off and take a bath while you’re at it. No, there is a happy medium. I am on my way to finding it but I have a ways to go. I believe love is critical. I think the capacity to love is vital to one’s nature and very life. One of the easiest things to say is “I love you” because we’re conditioned to do so. One of the hardest things is to mean it and understand what it really means to love another person. But love on its own is not enough.
I don’t know, I am still figuring it out, but I am invested and will be invested in sorting this out however much time I have left. This quest is exciting to me, it’s maddening at times, but it’s exciting. I love learning things. I was taking pictures of a friend yesterday and I started to see a connection; a couple of shots of her turned out quite well and I understood where I should go and how I will work towards getting there and it was amazing.
Tumblr seems to be more about images than words. Lots of pictures and gifs. I am adding this bit so there is a reason for each area I post in. You market things differently to different regions. Being a writer is not about moping around in some smelly room in smelly trousers staring at a word processor and mentally scratching your balls as you make up lives and places and situations. No, it’s about selling shit. It’s about hustling so you can survive and get on with it and not waste your fucking life in some crap office doing things you weren’t to do and not be around people you have nothing in common with. When I sell a book or a movie, I will be hustling. When that door cracks open, I’m fucking getting the boot in and kicking it wide open. This is what I do, and I am deadly fucking serious.
My grandmother is probably in her last days or maybe last weeks. She is 91; it is her time. I look at her life and I don’t want it. She has been alone for 31 years since my grandfather passed. Her time was her house, her yard, her newspaper, and her PEO group. And that made her happy and consequently it makes me happy, but I don’t want it. I want to do as much stuff as I can, write as many books and songs, take as many photographs, be involved with worthwhile and, on occasion, not so worthwhile women. Who knows how much time we have left? There is so much out there, there is so much all around us why waste a fucking minute?
“OPEN NOTE TO PETE TOWNSHEND: The beginning to 5:15 is so fucking beautiful and then you sully it by going into this cliched rock song. You should have just left it thirty seconds long. Seriously, you have an amazing idea, you leave it, you don’t just fuck it up like that…”——sba
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you, whatever that means. Whatever it means, I feel it. I want to be with you, there is this huge ache in my life where I wish you were. But, I can’t tell you. I mean, I’m sure you realize this to a degree, but it has to remain unspoken. You are so beautiful to me. Flawed, fucked up sometimes like we all are, but so beautiful. And I have to put it out of my head, I have to just let it go if we are going to continue being friends. But, yeah, I am really into you. And that is a beautiful thing in itself, but some beautiful things you just have to let die…”——sba
The Perils of Ego/A View of Things That May Leave You Thinking Me Mad
I drank too much whiskey last night. I believe I drank half a bottle between five in the afternoon and one in the morning. The good thing is it wasn’t about angst; I was just lying in bed reading, having a lovely time, enjoying sipping each shot. If this happened once a month I wouldn’t be worried, but it happens once or twice a week. I will eventually wreak my health if I keep this up. I just got back from walking five miles which I did pretty effortlessly (it’s on level ground, so not that impressive), but I know that if I keep drinking like I did last night my ability to be athletic will diminish.
I often fall into the trap of ego. I am going to do all these things, I am talented—it’s all about me. There’s too bright a light on myself. Maybe it was the hangover, maybe it’s my weird connection to things beyond definition, but I had a strange moment or series of moments of clarity on my walk. All these wonderful things, all the stories and the songs and eventually the films and the photographs, they do not come from inside me. I am a magnet and all these incredible things are like metal shavings. I am like a small, inexpensive radio picking up signals. I am merely a conduit, and it is my privilege to be that. Not everyone gets to take part in creativity at this level, it is an honor and that needs to be foremost in my mind. These ideas do not come from inside me. If you ask people who seem to be really creative they would probably tell you the same thing: They are all around, like energy. I am simply a man, but for some reason, maybe due to the isolation I’ve experienced in my life, I can tap into all this awesome, inspiring, beautifulterribleincredible things. But it is not me—and I need to keep my ego in check.
Where do ideas come from? What are they? I have no idea. It is probably beyond my comprehension. Most children can tap into it, most children are “creative geniuses,” they just get conditioned to tune things out as they get older and that is one of the saddest things about the human condition.
Back to drinking. Even if I have a glass of wine, my ability to write is diminished. If I’ve had a couple of glasses forget it. Ego. Hanging out on occasion and getting pissed with your friends is all well and good, but every night? I could get so much more done if I limited myself to a glass or two at the end of the evening. But I want to unwind and I want to soften the edges so I drink more than I should and before I have gotten enough work done. Ego. I need to be more aware of that. I need to keep in mind what a privilege it is to be a conduit for all these ideas; my life will be better and, more importantly, I will have more to share with the rest of the world…
“I am a heterosexual male. I seek out pictures of naked women on the Internet. I like pictures of naked women. That said, if a woman says she is not comfortable posing nude, that is to be respected. I see a lot disrespect here on Tumblr, men—(I am assuming since they post anonymously, and I am using the term “man” loosely)—keep harassing women to put up nudes when said women have made it clear they are not comfortable with that. How can people be so disrespectful? It’s quite disgusting, to be honest…”——sba
“Life boils down to two opposing things. Never be afraid not to give a fuck, be true to yourself, be who you are because life is too short for bullshit. On the other hand, never be afraid of loving people who are worth it. Doing either is really hard, kind of terrifying to be honest, but the rewards are worth the effort and the risk…”——sba