Thursday, August 13, 2009

fuck this blog

screw this. Here I am baring my soul to myself. i looked at the stats and i am the only one reading this crap. this is supposed top be therapy, but why bother if it only makes me mad?

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

pondering a future heartbreaker

I'm been sipping on a bottle of Firestone Riesling and it has apparently loosened my tongue or thoughts or fingers... let's see...

I watched a group of kids playing soccer on the beach today. They looked to be around 10 to 12 years old. A weird age. As summer winds down those kids are heading into some of the biggest changes of their lives. The loss of innocence and all that bullshit. But it's true.

This is the age when friendships die. This is the era when "cool" kids evolve and they leave the losers behind.

There was one girl in particular who I found striking. Now-- I'm not a pedophile or some fucked up shit like that... but you could look and just tell that she is going to be a knock out. She had a natural beauty. Really cute face. But more importantly, she had this great sense of confidence. She was sociable, talking with everyone and they beamed with happiness just being around her. Just getting a moment of her time and attention was fulfilling-- something special. She was also courageous, not backing down from the boys and very athletic. With the right grooming she could really be something special.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

the santa barbara fires

Back east people would converge on abandoned warehouses and throw parties, but here they go camping in wildfire territory. SoCal is fucked up!

That's right,I just got in from the long ride up to Santa Barbara (4 hours with traffic!) where there are tons of forest fires all up in the mountains. Seriously, like 10,000 acres have gone up in flames already. In a day!

I wasn't planning on this, just sort of tagged along. When someone said they were going to a "fire party" I thought they meant "hot" or some type of theme or whatever, but nah, they meant it literally--- a party up in the hills close to the firse. We had to sneak around the police perimeter, but they were not working too hard keeping people out. I mean, who fucking sneaks into a fire zone? A lot of people actually, besides our group of 8 there where at least 50 other people doing the same thing.

We never got close enough to see flames, but the smoke was harsh. I probably lost 10 years of my life from inhaling that shit. It's also the first time I ever slept vertically-- again, literally on a mountain side in just a sleeping bag-- no tent, no cot-- just me and some dirt & rocks. My back is fucked now, but nothing painkillers can't fix.

The upside is that we had the perfect gender mix. Everyone had a "date" for the night. Makes roughing it a whole lot easier. I ended up with a chick from UCLA. She was cute but kind of annoying. Kept singing Kanye West all night. All and all a pretty good score though.

Monday, August 10, 2009

And so my rehabilitation begins: blog as therapy

Ah yes. Smell that ocean air. It is good to be outside. This is the real heart of summer right now. I am here at little cafe on the beach. The ocean is just 100 yards away.

Imagine it--- somewhere in some office some poor guy just jammed a sheet of paper in the photocopier. I’m glad I’m not him. Life is not meant to be wasted on paper jams.

It is a wonderful day here and I don’t know what do with myself.

So why the blog? Ah well, this was my shrink’s idea. It’s a long story and I’d rather not waste too much of afternoon baring my soul to you. The short of it is that he prescribed blogging to help with a particular condition that I developed. By chronicling my thoughts he thinks I’ll somehow find some form of inner peace—some resolution. Blogging as therapy is what he calls it.

Personally I think it is a bunch of bullshit, but what the hell. He wants me to post something everyday for 90 days. And the kicker is that he’s not even going to read it. It’s some type of internalizing exercise. He wants me to talk to him about the act of blogging, the process of collecting and writing my thoughts-- but not my actual thoughts. How much am I paying for this guy? We'll see. I'll be a good sport and give it a few weeks. Ok, back to the beach now, that's enough therapy for today.