Don't shit where you eat......

Do the Bard and yourself a favor: Don’t ever date a married woman. Bad idea…real bad. In fact, don’t even go near them. You say, no, you don’t understand, this is different, this is an exception to the rule. Nope. It isn’t. Trust me, your judgment has been clouded like a Seattle winter. But they are separated? She is living on her own? Again, not gonna happen. She has filed the papers? The divorce is imminent? Sorry. Still no.

Might as well piss in the wind….on an electric fence….while standing in a kiddie pool full of water….in the middle of a hurricane. Cause after the storm, you are just left there standing with your dick in your hand.

My recent dating history will make the case for eternal damnation if the Lord above choses it. In the past 3 years, I have been pretty much single, dating around, making similar mistakes like the paragraph above. I’ll just share the highlights. Except for number one, I found out these things after the fact.

1. See paragraph one.

2. Lived with boyfriend, who was out of town a lot. Was told they had an “understanding”.

3. He cheated. She wanted to get even.

4. He couldn’t fuck. Or wasn’t “sensual” enough. Well, neither am I if I don’t like you anymore.

5. It was getting boring. She wasn’t feeling special anymore. Once specialized, she found his money to be special enough.

Your heart wants to nurse that little wounded Doe back to health. And you want to feel needed. It is suffering, it needs help. It feels alone, tired, vulnerable, and warm. Maybe you give it a sip of water, you see the look in its eyes and can’t help to think it might be hungry too. You fix the cuts, mend the wounds, and urge it back on its feet. But then the little Philly realizes that all the damage caused to her was self-inflicted…And a surge of guilt comes rushing over…..Maybe they were the one that was wrong. Maybe they should go see the Pater Familius and beg forgiveness. Once lit, the fire has no need of the match.

I am aware of one exception to this rule. However, the stud-muffin who pulled it off was a shark fighting, race car building, Brad Pitt/ George Clooney/ David Beckham mix of a man, who also stars in commercials, wrestles bucking broncos for fun, and pisses excellence.

As my one of my so called college friends told me, when I inquired about a mutual friend of ours that I used to date and was feeling like rekindling that flame: “Oh, yeah, sorry, she is dating a real man now, so you don’t have a chance.” That’s what friends are for….so keep smiling, keep shining…..

I have yet to date a woman in Seattle without motives. By that I mean, I never entered into the equation of choice. Everything was either revenge, loneliness, boredom, or a combination thereof. A pre-meditated failure designated for temporary status.… I never stood a chance. If you start creating problems or having issues in the course of one of these adventures, you become no longer useful. If they wanted a real relationship, they would have stayed at home.
Yeah, I know some part of me must seek it out…or maybe I look that desperate and easy.

Oh, yeah, from paragraph one….if you take all that and add the fact that you work with that evil sex kitten temptress as well? All the lessons learned seem to disappear with one in the hall run in…..man I am a sucker.

So if you are yelling, “Bullshit! Not all women are this way!” Send me a comment with your number, I assure you my intentions are pure.

And if you are yelling, “What a jack-ass pig! Who does this ass-hole think he is?” Send me a comment with your number, I assure you my intentions are pure.

Taxi Cab Confessions

It all came into focus for me. And the clarity started by talking with cab drivers this past week. See, I have always been able to relate better to the staff of a place more than other patrons. Something about how we are both suffering at the same moment, and we can both recognize it in each other, be it in unique ways. Theirs is related to having to be at work. Mine is seeing that forced interaction (workplace, cab rides, camp, road trips, etc….) is really my comfort zone. I don’t do well on the open sea that is the social life. What is that you say? There are no other patrons when you take a cab ride? True. Details, details….

Recently I took a trip for work up to Anchorage and Fairbanks for work. The day before this trip I just returned from another trip; my Dad’s 60^th in St. Louis. I’m glad the ole man made it. It has been a little touch and go, what with 7 documented heart attacks, a quad bypass, stints, angioplasty, high blood pressure, and obesity. With the help of modern medicine, he is the first male member of my family to reach 60. Sad. Both of my grandfathers, who survived the war, did not survive once they got back home. Maybe they didn’t know if you drink hard and fast enough, you blow right past your liver and shred your pancreas instead. Well, they do now. (Just the one took the fast track, the other, he went the regular liver route)

Anyway, back to the revelation. All three cabbies I talked to really loved to drive. I could see they were genuinely happy in their chosen lives. And I could see that was all that mattered. To find that something inside you that gives you infinite peace because you are whole in the acceptance of that choice. That must be what love is. And I think once achieved, the world is yours. This is easy to understand, but hard to get to if not already there. Know what I mean?

I have had very few moments in my life without insecurity. And it is a battle for me. But it has happened. As recently as last night. It was a perfect night with friends seeing Wilco. As intense as my depression can be, my moments of happiness and joy can be just as blinding. And last night I was blind. And it is happening with more and more frequency. Like the Beastie Boys say, “You got to fight, for your right, to party.” Everyday is a struggle. But I am in it to win it.

I asked one well traveled cabbie, what place (among the many he was listing) was his favorite? He said, “Right here in Anchorage. Because things don’t change. I like it that way. I don’t really like it here, but I like that things don’t change. When I want to have fun, I go to Seattle. But this is what I want”. It wasn’t like Seattle was a vacation syndrome for him. He had lived there. He said. “That was a life of fun. Now, I want a life of peace.” This blew my mind for some reason. It was the tying of many loose ends all at once. How was he able to separate something that he truly enjoyed from something he truly loved? And not question it? To have no self doubt? I closed my eyes. Here is what happened right after that:

In my mind I have a stagnant scene. When I think about someone, almost anyone, the same scene always pops up in my mind. Been that way for as long as I can remember.

On one side, a vast plateau, stretching out in the distance infinitely. On the other side the same. And in the middle, there is a canyon. It isn’t very deep, and not very wide. It stays that way until I think of a person, and as soon as I do, ropes across the canyon shoot out and tie to each side. The thicker the ropes, the stronger the tie to the person I am thinking of. When things like bad breakups come, I mentally cut the ropes. I know it sounds hokey, but it works for me.

The interesting thing is what happens when I cut the ropes. Sometimes they come back right away, seemingly beyond my control. Sometimes they get weaker and weaker every time I cut them, others not. Sometimes they go away for good. And for others I can not even generate ropes.

So I decided to think about this semi-epiphany I had. I wondered if I could switch from thinking about people, and think about self-realization. As soon as I did that, something changed. The canyon in the middle has always been dry. Always. I wondered why. Then I felt this surge come over me. I literally felt it. Water started coming, flooding the dry void. Then I wondered, where is this water going? And I followed it. My scene was no longer static. It was fluid. The water, or river I guess, broke out into the sea, filling me with energy. I looked back from where I came, and noticed how narrow my view had been.

How long have I been living only inside of myself? Missing everything around me due to the cloud of delusion that fills my mind. The constant debate inside my head. What I found I need, what I must have, is transparency. I must live with a quiet mind to truly appreciate what is around me. I am always trying force other peoples view of life and love into my own equation. It is a vicious cycle that has no solution. I am working towards acceptance. I am moving closer to love.

May the winds lift you up into the sky above,

Where you’d be treated to a view of everything you love.

And if the moment passes you should try it once again,

For if you do it right, you’ll find, the moment never ends...

Erroronious! Erroronious!

What?! Hold on just one cotton pickin' minute here. I am the enemy? The listless, beaten man needs to be kicked some more, huh? Will the torment never end......(I hope not)

Leave it to the big-budget, fancy-picture havin', high falutin' Mr. Bucket to employ aggressive right wing tactics against any and all oncomers. The "don't worry little Johnny, we do the thinking arounnd here" mindset reminds of a political machine. But, it isn't like Mr. Bucket preaches politics on his site, is it? Ohh, thats right.....








I can tell you this. I don't want a war. Matter of fact, I just don't have the energy. It takes all I got to get out of bed, put on my cleanest dirty shirt, wash the dentures, and try to make itto my first cup of coffee. Why in the world would I want to compete? I'm too tired. I was hoping to be the yang to Mr. Bucket's ying. But he pulled out the big guns. He declared war. So, yes, I may be lazy, needy, narcosistic, arrogant, trite, rude, and just down right unpredictable, but what I am not is chicken. As the Band put it, "You can't raise a Cane back up when he's in defeat!"






Anyway, who am I kidding. I don't even have the energy to fake an aggressive attack. My main goal is to let Mr. Bucket do all the work, while I just act the parasite. Yeah, there is some Biology for you bitches!

But one thing I don't want to become is a mock site. One that only discusses others life. Lord knows there are enough of those in the celebrity world. Wait....those are really popular. Hmmm...ok. Change of plan. You get famous, and I'll rip you for it. Deal?

(Some of my favorite examples include, I mean why waste money on US Weekly?):
www.wwtdd.com It asks the question, I think, what would Tyler Durden think of all this?
www.thesuperficial.com It's ok. I guess.
www.hollywoodtuna.com Has good pics sometimes.
www.popsugar.com This one is for the ladies. The have a whole lifestyle service kind of deal

Tune in later this week for some actual insight to the pathetic existence that is,

The Bard's Blues Blog.




P.S.

Ice cream?! Are you fucking kidding me? Your deepest insight was over a bowl of ice cream? Sure there weren't any puppies around at the time? Maybe a unicorn?

My life lesson of the same sort came after a football game. I was 7. When I was younger (pre-teen) I was really good at sports. The star pitcher, the star quarterback, the sprinter, the top of the pile kind of leader you look for in pre-puberty kids. I had promise. What I didn't have was a pituitary gland. Anyway.........after the "big game", in which I had three touchdowns (one a run of over 80 yards), I was named MVP. It was a great moment. But not super unusual.
I was bad ass....not so much now, but then.

On the way up to accept the award, my Dad pulled me by the back of the neck to the side,off the field. He said, "I know you heard your name over the PA alot today, and you must think you are hot shit, huh? Well, you don't think I didn't see you miss that tackle on defense? You think you can just let some guy get by you and not do anything cause you are Mr. Touchdown? If you spent less time trying to be the hero, and more time hittin somebody, you might be worth a shit. What are you a Prima Donna? Quit tryin to be the goddamn Hero! Now go get your bullshit trophy so we can get out of here." I was 7. Seriously. True story.

Thats good with the bad balance Bard style! We didn't
stop for ice cream on the way home in case you were wondering.

Sometimes I use my safety belt just because I want to be held...

Oh sure, everything is sunny and rosy over there at the "Bucket". Seems like one CRAZY adventure after another....just so much fun....had by all those people...who aren't me.

Well, what about all the rest of us, huh? You know, the downtrodden, the heartbroken,
the I-slept-16-hours-and-only-got-up-
because-of-the-lack-of-caffeine-induced-headache people?

Don't get me wrong. I love Mr. Bucket. Sure enough.
I probably check it many times a day for new posts......
like a crazed hungry dog trying to bite your fingers through his cage.
(And also I have nothing to do at work these days and I check the same sites over and over
again with this web browser called Opera. You can have your favorite 9 websites on one page and it will almost continuously update them like a slot machine.)

I do my fair share of visiting...see "Summer of the Bard".
But Mr. Bojangles' budget is only so big. And I can't just setup a tent in the funplex. Which, of course, would be complete with a comfortable pillow, those caramel bullz-eye candies, them plastic star thingies, two cartons of cheap Japanese whiskey,

and my favorite cartoon -the California Raisins Claymation Christmas- seriously has there ever been anything animated better? No. End of story. (Here we go a waffeling, a waffeling we go......). Anyway, I am looking for my own Shang-Ra-La.

Point is this:
I need that Mr. Camp Activities, Follow Me Cause There Is Fun Over Here, Center of The Hub that is Mr. Bucket.
But, I sir, am no Mr. Bucket. By my lonesome, I don't think I could fun myself out of a paper bag. Surely, I am not alone.

I know what you are thinking. Yes, I have had my share of adventures in the pages of the hallowed Bucket. And yes, there has been a lady of two in my life (much more many stories of disaster to follow). But castles made of sand my friend, castles made of sand....they don't do so well on the airplane ride home.......

So I decided to start this "counter point" blog to exercise them demons! Praise Jesus, you say!
And I think this may be the perfect timimg... Not only due to my demeanor and my award winning baggage, but the weather is starting to turn towards winter. I live in Seattle and we only have two seasons here. Blah and Meh. Today was blah. Tommorow? Who knows..could be meh.....Oh, boy, I can't wait to wake up and find out!

And as you read Bucket's weekend adventures, if you think to yourself:
Shit man, What did the hell did I do this weekend?
I mean besides masturbating and eating crap I shouldn't have.
And sitting alone at the coffee house just waiting for that special
someone to recognize. Recognize that untapped, innocent,
everlasting love sitting over in the corner,
lurking like a crazed person from that Poltergiest movie.......
Then you are right here at home at the Bard's Blues. Welcome.
Your name tag is right over there ----->

Speaking of those crazy California Raisins, who knew there was a sexy Ms. Raisenette, and just what is Mr. Pickle thinking?? Tsk, Tsk, Mr. Pickle!