The Wee Democracy

i like compliments

in january i was pretty well hobbled with what the french call "the blues". for a couple of days i made like i was going to classes, or at least, i was telling my friends that that was the case. really, i was hiding out in my apartment watching the sopranos all day from the living room floor. it was pretty goddamn awful.

anyways, i got some help. it took time, but in a matter of a couple of weeks, i got myself back on my feet and registered for some classes. one of them was my senior seminar, with a gentleman named dr. renwick. the rog, i called him, as his proper christian name was roger. anyways, when i tried to add his class (it was basically the only one i actually "needed" as i needed a senior seminar to graduate. if i didn't have that - well, i'd still be in school.

the rog didn't want to let me in his class. it had already been like, two weeks, and he was very reluctant. but he admittedly felt sorry for me, and let me in.

some six or so weeks later, he asked to speak with me after class - i was scared as shit, cause i'd been kinda being a joker w/ him, poking some fun at the subject matter we studied, just trying to be myself, really.

he said, you know when i let you into this class, i did it because i felt sorry for you...blah blah blah, my heart was racing. i thought he was going to tell me to straighten up and fly right, and just keep my smart mouth shut. i'd been told that before, anyways. but then he said. it was the best decision i ever made, my boy. and when i'm wrong, i'll admit it.

this was, of course, a great relief for me. and the point i'm trying to make is this - unprovoked compliments -- comments that come from a person with absolutely nothing to gain by paying them are the best ones. when someone you barely know tells you something good, it's the most amazing feelings.

today, i went to dinner with my mom. while we were eating, i thought i saw a girl look over at me, then whisper a little somethin' somethin' to her friend at the table. then her friend cast a quick-ass glance over my way. i was like...ok, calm yourself josh.

i ate my meal, and we paid the check, then vamoosed. while we passed the front window, the first girl again quickly whispered to the other girl as if to say "ok, here he comes again" the other girl, again turned to look at me. now, of course i realize they could have been saying, look at that poor bastard, but i don't think they were. they looked. i walked.

and then i smiled....nice and big.




feeling: tired....so tired
thinking of: creating a super-hero alterego
song of the day: where is my mind? - the pixies
quote of the day: dale gribble: when it comes to muffins, i can't help myself! i'm a muffaholic!

all i ask for is common courtesy

is that so much to ask for? i don't think so. you remember that job interview i went on the other day? well, i was told then that i'd hear from them on monday to schedule a second interview. so monday i got up early, as i did not want to miss their call.

that call did not come. nor did it come tuesday. nor wednesday. i have now assumed (actually i did the bulk of the assuming yesterday) that i will not hear from this company ever again. this is quite rude.

i don't mind not getting the job. sure, i would have liked to have gotten it, and i would have done a good job for them, but, in the end, it was not meant to be. what i do have a problem with is the lack of courtesy, which to me, insinuates a lack of respect. they told me, in no uncertain terms, to wait for a phone call from them, a phone call that never came. i did, and they did not hold up their end of the bargain. i don't care if they called to say, hey, we were really jumping the gun last week, and we're not gonna consider you any further, but they should have called.

just the other day, i was in the grocery store parking lot and a guy was passing in front of the car. when we let him pass, he waved and gave us a nice smile. that TOTALLY made my day, and you know why? because he showed a common courtesy. he went out of his way to do it, too, which, to me, speaks volumes about his manners.

this company did not have the common courtesy to return my effort, and that, too, speaks volumes about them. shame on them. to avoid someone because what you have to say is awkward is not an excuse. it's not acceptable, it's not right. it's rude. plain and simply rude.



feeling: for once, righteous
thinking of: those crap-bastards
song of the day: brand new day - van morrison
quote of the day: Lou - it used to make me feel like a man -- now all i have is my enormous genitals

i can't write.

i've been trying to write for the last couple of days, as i hadn't written anything creative in some time. yes, i know, you cry, but josh! you write so well on your blog that we can't imagine how anyone can expect you to devote an equal amount of attention to what can only be described as sublime fiction without abandoning us! well, fear not.

my fiction is crap. in mid july i started writing a story that was a sorta prequel to another short story i wrote before, my intention being to write a series of stories about this particular family, scarred one day by an unimaginable trauma. however, i started writing one of the new stories last night, and i realized, hey! this is melodramatic crap! sometimes i wish i had the sack to beat myself up, cause i woulda slapped me around last night for bringing such atrocious drivel into the world! ugh!

my creative bursts are sporadic at best. we're a bit like pamela anderson and tommy lee, creativity and me. we're on again/off again. and most of the time when i reeeeeally feel like sitting down and writing something, i have to do it at my computer, because i can't write it long hand - i don't have the speed writing longhand as i do typing, and i need to keep up with the thoughts in my hand as soon as they come!

so i started making notes, but then, when i sat down to turn the notes into actual text, drivel!! crapfest!

and then when i actually do get the juices trickling, i get interrupted by some stupid-ass request from the people i live with. i'm losing my perspicacity!!



feeling: on edge.....on a very, very, VERY slippery slope, or precipice, if you will
thinking of: moving to california - after all this fire shit calms down
song of the day: fake plastic trees - radiohead
quote of the day:
Harry Dunne: I can't believe we drove around all day, and there's not a single job in this town. There is nothing, nada, zip!

Lloyd Christmas: Yeah! Unless you wanna work forty hours a week.

josh's blog has a new ... thing!

due in large part to my lack of need for an away message, i'm going to add a quote of the day to my blog. sometimes they may repeat, but i implore you to get the frick over it.


quote of the day: M. Burns - I don't like being outdoors, Smithers. For one thing, there's too many fat children!

music is funny.

or at least, my relationship to music is funny. my likes and dislikes can be described as mercurial, at best (thanks, GRE hit parade!) but there was many a time in my past that my sister played some band or singer that i loathed at the time. sometimes, i wanted actually to throw the cd out the window, or to stab myself in the ear with a q-tip to get away from the wretchedness of the sounds. but then, despite my protests, the music began to grow on me. bob dylan, joni mitchell, the cure, bjork come immediately to mind, and now i can't imagine my musical landscape being complete without them. crazy, right?

my pal damon has sliiiiiiiightly similar affects on my landscape, the only notable instance, though, being neil young. i used to dislike him intensely, and now, i like a few songs. i'm not rushing out to buy any neil young albums anytime soon, but like i said, i got a few NY mp3's. come and get me, RIAA!!

anyways, it was usually one song that got me to convert to liking the aforementioned bands. 'shelter from the storm' in bob dylan's case, 'carey' in joni mitchell's, 'trust' from the cure, and 'joga' by bjork. neil young did a good cover of imagine, right after 9-11, and had a couple of good songs in some movies i like, so that helped his cause.

but there are times when i hear a song, say on an album that i own from a particular band, and i like it. i may not remember it, and it certainly doesn't get the song of the day treatment in the old democracy.

and then, one day, out of the blue, i hear the song in a movie, or a tv show, or, as was the case yesterday, during a montage after the marlins beat the yankees in the world series. (cry like a bitch, posada). anyways, as they were getting ready to cease broadcast of the post-game ebullience, they played this highlight reel of the whole series with the coldplay song 'the scientist' playing over it all.

i didn't recognize it at first, but knew it was coldplay. i've got their second album, but i'm never good with song names. i looked it up in the album, put it in and played it. it was so good this time. now before, i used to like 'a rush of blood to the head' more than most other songs on the album, but this one is giving it a run for its money.

there is just something about attaching some other form of media, or some other memory to a song that ... makes it better. sometimes, if you play it at just the right moment in history, you can attach a bittersweetness to it, and then that just makes you yearn to recapture that particular instant, song and all.

example: joga by bjork. i love that song. as stated before, that was the song that was the door opener to the rest of her music. and when i hear it, i don't think about hearing it the number of times i'd heard it before, but i think about how my sister used to pick me up after work at a local mexican dive. i know i heard it in that car on those rides home, and it was a good time in my life. so i hear that song and it takes me back to that moment. but if you attach it to a different moment, that moment won't ring true, or the song won't have the same impact.

i ramble.

chelsea hotel no. 2 was on tv last week, and it made me want to listen to it and other leonard cohen songs many a time. elliott smith - can you imagine good will hunting without elliott smith? or can you imagine listening to miss misery and not thinking of good will hunting? it's like a symbiote circle.

that's why i say, music is a funny thing. i'm glad we have it.

and if i start my own band it's going to be called one of two things: todd gack and the smoking dutchmen OR mr. mysterio and the wholigans


feeling: slightly melancholic....reminiscent.
thinking of: hopes and dreams for the christmas season this year (it's closer to wintery, today's climate, hence the mood)
song of the day: the scientist - coldplay

job hunting blows.

there are those of your i'm sure who are aware that i'm still looking for work. there was a great prospect (if not a little ... difficult to picture myself in) a few weeks back, and the people who need to know what happened there know, and those of you who don't - t'ain't nonna your goddamn business.

anyways, i was watching dr. phil the other day - tuesday i believe, and the topic of discussion was families in the two income trap. i don't have one income, but part of it was about looking for work. so, this one guy said "you know, next to the death of a spouse, the death of a child, or some other member of your family...looking for work is the most emotional thing we do.

and it's true!! the emotional rollercoaster i was on yesterday is only a small part of it. and the experience a month ago with that other company had me reaching the zenith and the nadir of the emotio-scope. but, back to yesterday. in the morning i was flipping through the paper, and called about a few jobs. most of them had already been taken. i called one company, a trucking company that needed a clerical person, which, i'll admit, is not the most glorious of positions for a recent college grad, but oh well. so i called this joint, talked to a guy, and scheduled an appointment to come in! i was excited, but for some reason, i didn't tell my mom. i was a bit scared to. she's scary.

so, later on i was thinking, how am i gonna get there? to this appointment? and who was i gonna talk to? so it gets to be around 2, and i figure i need to call the guy back and ask who it was i spoke to - you know, for reference purposes. i call, and this busher answers the phone, and says, oh, i think we filled that position. so i was like, uh thanks, dickface. wastin' my motherfuckin' time.

but i was glad i didn't tell my mom cause it would have saved me some embarassment. i mean, i was getting excited about being a gopher at a trucking joint.

so, little high, then some disappointment.

then, around 4, my mom comes to get me in my room, and says "did you call P_______?" and i said, yeah, i sent in a resume the other day. "well they're on the phone for you". excitement.

so then, i talk to the person at P________. she's nice and says they want me to come in and fill out an application. i say ok. and i'm back on top again.

so i go in today, fill out this application, take this timed test, which i fared moderately well on, and interviewed with two people. and they want me to come back next week!! i'm so excited. it's not glorious work, but it's ok. and the people seem nice enough, if not a bit more business minded than those iowa mugs.

we'll see what monday brings i guess.




feeling: lonely, and horny as hell
thinking of: banging katie couric
song of the day: waltz #2 - elliott smith

i am quite sad today.

elliott smith died. and i'd try to write a little obituary of some substance and poignancy, but it would be a fallacy, as i did not know the man. so instead i'll recall my own personal experiences involving this talented fella.

i first becam exposed to ES over the phone, when my sister leah discovered him in new york. leah went off to NYU when i started high school, and immediately became a sort of connoiseur of little known music. i think it was around 97 or 98 that she told me about it. ('98 was the year XO was released, i just checked) so, she called me near the beginning of my senior year in high school, and told me about this great guy she'd just heard, that he was kinda beatlesy and i should totally check him out. she played part of Waltz #2 for me over the phone. i thought it was pretty good, and soon i saw him perform it on saturday night live.

so, i had some limited exposure, then, i went to college and my friend damon was a devotee of ES, so we heard plenty of that stuff. it was actually his in to get me to watch good will hunting, which up to that point i had refused to see. so he said, "and elliott smith did all the songs in it" which was more or less true, so i figured, what the hell - can't be all bad. turned out to be a pretty damn good movie and ES's music fit right in there.

and lauren, a girl i had a good relationship with that year, she was another disciple to the path of smith. lauren was a cool cat, and i can't listen to elliott without thinking of her fondly.

junior year, i saw the royal tenenbaums during the christmas break, and i thought his song 'needle in the hay' was a killer for the scene in which is was used. it was when richie tried to kill himself. sadly, it was a bit too apropos. it was about that time that i put together a bunch of elliott smith songs onto a burnt CD, because i wanted to listen to a lot of them while i was on the go. ES's cd's are the ones that, no matter how old they are, they never go down in price. yes, i'm a cheap bastard.

and the beginning of senior year, when i first moved into my apartment, i played that CD every night while i hand washed my dishes....it was peaceful. maybe the last truly peaceful time in my life.

goodbye, elliott.....you've given me some fond memories



feeling: melancholic....like, robert smith, from the cure
thinking of: how lauren, damon, and other folks are taking it
song of the day: miss misery - elliott smith

i watch Gilmore Girls.

i think i've said that before, but nonetheless, it's important to reiterate these things, especially when they are important prefaces to a new rant i'm about to go on. and my faithful readers know i'm apt to hop on the rant rail from time to time.

gilmore girls is one of those shows you can't stand to watch, because it's so clearly...unrealistic. i mean, seriously, who the fuck talks like that? so scripted and false and ...know it all. granted the two main chicks are hot, but one swallow does not make a summer. anyways, the point being made in this, one of many examples of how college is depicted in the mass media.

two words...bullfuckingshit. first of all, i don't know how things are run at Yale, but i'm ASSUMING that dorm rooms are not these swank hotel lookin suites with fuckin like five rooms in 'em. jester, where i lived, was more like a prison. now granted, i made some great friends in there, a good half of which i still keep up with, and i had some good times in that place. but it was small, and smelly.

secondly, classes - and keep in mind i was an english major, so i had some pretty discussion oriented classes, and no one forced their stupid politcal idealisms upon us, or the works we read, crying workers of the world unite, and fitting so conveniently into a particular demographic, in ALL manners of personal description. we just were...no more no less.

thirdly - some people have crazy parties on campus...we call them frat people. but try having a REAL party with REAL booze in a dorm, and you're just gonna end up looking like a 'tard with an 18 pack of beer in a mini fridge. it's a thing for a small group of friends, not an entire floor.

fourthly - "cool" people don't put fucking band stickers of the smiths on their fucking laundry basket. people are billboards a LOT of the time, but not with their laundry baskets. come on...how lame.

so, having seen all this - and keep in mind, it's merely the latest in absolutely fallacious depictions of college life, i came to a conclusion.

there are two types of writers in this world (or this country, so we don't get too grandiose): those who write about life as they would like it to be. those who turn college into some grand spectacular glamorous experience. and those who write about life as it is. those who would cover the alienation, the awkwardness, the stagnancy, the fact that 9 out of 10 people are going to graduate college not having changed a whit, except for acquiring new knowledge. look at graduating frat boys for god's sake. you really think they've evolved past high school? and me? i carry the same grudges, have the same insecurities...i'm still the same old mess.

i dunno - maybe college is one long party, where you meet such diverse and supremely intellectual people, and maybe i just missed out on it.

either way, that gilmore bitch needs to stop being such a know it all.



feeling: slightly miffed, and highly insecure
thinking of: nailing that gilmore chick
song of the day: let down - radiohead

i had a geometry teacher when i was a sophomore in high school.

for anonymity's sake, we'll call this teacher dr. michael keyton of the st. mark's school of texas, 10600 Preston Rd. Dallas Texas, 75230. anyways, it's not like i really had a beef with this teacher. we didn't see eye to eye all the time, but for what it's worth, that man knew his shit. he was a little slow when it came to working the same kind of rubik's magic that trey and i could.

but, true to my nature and style of prose, this is all beside the point. my efficiency of exposition is in dire need of some retooling. my true point was this - dr. keyton told us there were several types of people in the world: those who know they know, those who don't know they know, those who know they don't know, and those who don't know they don't know.

i list them in the order that herr keyton said that they ranked, the point being it's better to know you don't know than to not know you're ignorant.

i bring this up because i was watching the marlins get shellacked by the yankees. i was watching that redman fella pitch, and he was stinking it up. he can barely break the upper 70's on his fastball, and the first pitch of the game, i said to myself, if he keeps lobbing balls over the plate, the yankees are gonna light him up.

sure enough, fuckin' 2 and 1/3 innings later, the yankees are up 4 runs, all earned, and redman finally gets pulled. i think outloud to myself often, so upon this, i said, man, it must suck balls to start a game in the world series, give up 4 earned runs and get pulled after 2 and 1/3 innings. my point being, redman can no longer just assume he's good, cause he got the start. he's now one of the fortunate not to be in the lower tier of self awareness.

he knows he sucks.

or he should know.

and by the way, the cowboys know that they still don't know, and i think that's where i want them. mack brown, by contrast should know very soon that he doesn't know, and hopefully it will be too late for him to save his job. visit, www.firemackbrown.com



feeling: bored, and feisty
thinking of: teaching in a public school, like boston public, and nailin' me some jeri ryan
song of the day: don't panic - coldplay

the difference between tragedy and comedy is justice.

now, i've been thinking alot about justice in the last few days, what with playoff baseball going on. i don't even like baseball, but i do like certain players. pudge rodriguez was totally underappreciated on the rangers roster, and when he left, i wished him well, and followed him in this postseason with more interest than i've shown the rangers in the last four years.

that being said, there is no justice in the cubs losing the penant, and there certainly is no justice in the man who tried to catch that foul ball getting the ridiculous amount of shit he's getting. the man did what anyone would have done, and i don't wanna hear any bullshit otherwise. you know how i know? cause i'd go for that ball, and i don't even like baseball.

so i was rooting for pudge, and by proxy the marlins. but i felt bad for the cubs for losing, and for the cub fans, who seemingly are the most loyal, if a touch misguided among the fans out there. but back to justice.

there certainly is no justice regarding the absurd nature of the new york yankees. they are the most hated team in any sport in my book. and -- i don't even like baseball. and i like the red sox. i'm not even from boston, only been once for a couple of hours, and i'm thinking of getting me a red sox cap and watching me some boston games. simply because they, i think, are the only people who hate the goddamn yankees as much as i do.

but getting back to comedy and tragedy. think about movies. think about those high school movies where the jerk (i.e. the jock who seemingly will get the girl) and the hero, who will yearn for his dream girl, only to find out that his friend girl will be the true dream girl revealed at the end, get their just desserts.

in a tragedy, say romeo and juliet, it could be a comedy along the lines of midsummer night's dream, that is, until, mercutio is killed. it is at that point that tragedy is inevitable. chaos to order ist he nature of comedy in shakespear, and order to chaos is respective the nature of tragedy.

but let's be real. there isn't justice in the world. not when out of a hundred years, the yankees win 26 world series. one in four, people. that's not justice. that is, no doubt, a pact with satan.

or maybe steinbrenner himself, the demented old bat, is actually the devil.




feeling: dejected
thinking of: writing a book
song of the day: chelsea hotel no. 2 - leonard cohen

blocked up....back when i'm not.






feeling: blocked up -- what, you can't read?
thinking of: banging any of those chicks on the bachelor....or all of 'em.
song of the day: a song for our fathers - explosions in the sky

i saw Kill Bill today.

i told my friend jess that i saw it and she said "what's kill bill?" had we been in the same city, i might actually have killed her. but kill jess doesn't rhyme like kill bill, i don't drive a pussy wagon, and i cannot disappear after committing numerous bloody murders. i live in texas - they'd hang me.

anywho, i told jess that it was the bright spot in an otherwise dreary week. i took the bus to the movies today, cause my usual partner had to work. when i was riding home, i rode through downtown dallas, and i got very sad all of a sudden.

i can see two possible reasons for this pain. one -- i took many a bus ride and train ride in the summer of 2000 to go to my job with chrideen's dad. that's right, ladies, i did construction. it made me hard, and good with my hands. the skill of my tongue, however, is natural.....baby.

anyways, that job was reminiscent of a golden age. freshman year of college was good times. maybe a little misguided, but the doors were wide open, and we're all likely to misstep when we have so much before us. plus, it made me and chrideen real close. sigh.


reason two -- the bus route was also the means of transportation in that same summer, whereby i hunted down many a job opportunity with no success. perhaps the memory of that rejection was brought up again, and mingled with the most recent and vitriolic incident, to brew a fresh and vile heart-sickness in the meager republic of josh.

or possible reason three -- i was sad to see such a great and anticipated movie alone, and most of all, without smoot.

i miss my friends.



feeling: iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii'm so sad and loooonely....sad and lonely, sad and lonely!
thinking of: banging shannen doherty
song of the day: bang bang - nancy sinatra

i like irish girls.

there's just something about fair skin, beautiful hair (generally brown, or, god help me, red) and bright blue eyes that just reduces me to a smitten puppy. ireland would be like, my graceland... my xanadu.

and they're all named molly -- to me. until i learn their real name. why molly you say? well, it all goes back to when i was around 9 or 10 years old, just a little josh. it was there, and i sigh to think about it, that i first came to know the young molly fitzpatrick. only god knows where she is now, or what's going on in her life, but names don't get more irish than that.

which is to say, i don't know for sure if she's irish or not. she looks it, and i have a pretty good hunch that she was at least part irish. but i think of her now, what she'd look like now, and i bet to holy god she's finer than my feeble skills of articulation allow me to say.

and then, oh lord, and THEN, there was my fourth grade teacher. miss foley. sweet....merciful...crap. i knew that woman was fine back then (a hard teacher, and a bit scary for a 10 year old), but a 23 year old now...ooooh lawdy. my heart leaps like a gazelle to think of it...

anyways, that's all beside the point. my point is, if you know an irish girl, or you are an irish girl, for the love of god, let me know. the rest of ireland would never forgive you for ignoring me!

i'm a racist. i race to the irish!!!



feeling: that point of sadness where you just start laughing
thinking of: barbecue
song of the day: she's a rainbow - rolling stones

i watch oprah.

i'm not proud of it, but seeing as how i more or less live the life of an old lady (watching soaps and talk shows), my options are limited until i find a job.

anyways, my oprah watching is beside the point. i also watch dr. phil, and today's episode was a rather enlightening foray into interracial dating and the consequences it may have -- all beside the point. the instigating event in the watching of this show was what my mom said about my identity.

she pointed out that i seem to, and problematically so, identify myself as a poor mexican. i said that i do that for humor's sake, and even my friend damon knows that. i didn't even tell him. he said once that i'm mexican when it's convenient for a joke. and it's true. race has never been an integral part of my identity. being bi-racial is just not something that has seriously concerned me, nor has "not fitting in" to a particular ethnic group because i'm not a thoroughbred.

this ties into yesterday's blog in that i began thinking about identity again, and all the things that add up to turn a human into a person. i told my mom that i primarily use tastes to define my personality and identity. it's like that line in high fidelity. in a relationship, it's what you like that counts, not what you are like.

now while i don't entirely agree with that, i'm probably inclined to think that someone who thinks titanic is the greatest movie ever made isn't gonna be a good match with someone who refuses to see anything at the cineplex, and will only grace the presence of the local arthouse.

i have a clear idea of my tastes, of the movies i like, the music, the books and dress, food, hobbies, thing of that nature. but i KNOW that there is more to identity than that. dr. phil seems to think personalty traits figure into that, so i guess i'm moderately intelligent, sensitive, humorous (although in a predominantly sardonic manner) funloving, temperamental (we do have to factor the negative in as well as the positive; and on that note...) moody, melancholic and reticent.

i'm prone to unrequited love, and generally have romantic ideals as far as relationships are concerned. my life's directions are simply to find meaning and suibstance within my own life, and do something, accomplish something that matters, not necessarily in the big scheme, but to me - like writing a book that isn't a bestseller, but just something i'm proud of.

ok, i'm lying, i just want money and sex.

oh, and i watch gilmore girls, too



feeling: despondent
thinking of: writing tessa a real email....and banging elizabeth hurley
song of the day: here comes my baby - cat stevens

insert clever opening line here.

on a more or less daily basis i post my rants, raves, daily attributions, thoughts, epiphanies and general malcontent on this website, and most of the time, i try to do it in an entertaining manner. a manner befitting my personality and attempting to truly sell my style to my readers(s).

i had a website a while back. i forget what it was called, but it was very similar to this one, as i posted daily. however, i had a job that summer, so it was easy to fall by the wayside. i think i only really kept it up a few weeks, as opposed to the burgeoning third month here. let's go number three!!

there, too, i became preoccupied with originality, a certain pinache, a sensationalism, a uniqueness. and there too, i posed the question to myself. why?

granted, i know very little about my own generation (i think we're called Y, but who the fuck knows), but i know you'll forgive me, america, for making my little generalizations.

generation Y seems to be broken up into two relatively distinct groups. there is group number 1, the drinking, rufie slipping, white baseball cap wearing, abercrombie and fitch shopping group. and group number 2, the group that is obsessed with originality, with being different, and unique, so much so, that they completely ignore a real sense of their own identity to adopt one that just isn't taken.

now, that being said, i think i'd lump myself into group number 2, simply because i KNOW i don't fit into group number 1. but with being in group number 2 comes a problem with managing to stay distinct and being my own person while maintaining a distinct difference from all other people in my age bracket. that is to say, i'm going to jump off a cliff and see if i can fly.

i can't dress differently from every other person in my age bracket. there aren't enough thrift stores. i can't listen to different music than everyone, cause i ain't got the money to experiment with buying random CD's from unknowns. i can't like different movies from everyone, cause there's limited amount of film being produced as we speak. with everything there are always uncharted numbers of people who like the same thing. when i was in my early teens i began collecting PEZ dispensers, and my mom said i was a loser. my therapist said that when i got to college i'd meet a handful of people at least who collected PEZ dispensers. sure enough, i even dated one of them. so, try as we might, there is someone out there that likes the same things you do....at least in one category.

i knew this group in high school that struggled and fought as hard as they could to be out of the mainstream and unique, but they ended up conforming to the rules of their esoteric little clique. so, yeah, there's a danger there of trying so hard to be different that you end up conforming, or losing an idea of who you really are, and yada yada yada....i'm rambling.


my point, circuitous as the route i took to get there is, is that we should just be ourselves!! not a very original sentiment, is it?



feeling: free to be you and me
thinking of: lunch with riqui a week from today
song of the day: doing the unstuck - the cure

i've got regrets.

now what that means is up for debate. i've been told that regrets are a waste of time -- time spent wishing is time wasted. i've also heard that regrets are the building agents of character. i haven't made up my mind about which of the two options are the answer for me.

i regret not working harder in high school, but i don't regret going to UT.

i regret not working hard in the first two years of college, but i don't regret taking my time to find a major that truly fit me.

i regret letting my friendship and whatever may have been go by the wayside with lauren. she was true blue, and i let it slip through my fingers

i regret not going back to sara's apartment, but i don't regret anything that happened with meredith.

i regret blowing the job in iowa. but whether or not that regret will stand is not for certain yet.

there is something that anyone who really knows me, and there are few of you, that i used to regret so deeply. but now i see it was a fallacy, and that i never should have regretted in it in the first place, or rather, there was nothing to truly regret. but there are those other ones that really could have made things different, probably for the better, and those regrets i still hold on to, at least for now.

so, to lauren, on the snowball's chance in hell that somehow you've found this, i'm sorry.
sara, i should have gone to your apartment. you folks in iowa....i'm kinda sorry...for now.

what i'll do with these regrets in the future remains to be seen. maybe they're useful for a time, then when you've gleaned whatever life altering information you need from them, or you've learned your lesson, i mean really learned it, you can leave them behind. and to carry them any further, THAT is the waste of time.



feeling: melancholic
thinking of: d-man in NO, spending his birthday without me ...lucky bastard
song of the day: happy jack - the who

it's a rainy sunday afternoon, and i'm lonely.

not that that's anything new. quite frequently, i find myself stricken with the lonely bug. i could be surrounded my a handful of close friends and still become infected by this damnable microbe. but it's been lately that i've been wondering, when did loneliness really become a negative attribute?

there's a line in gosford park, where one of the gents who is in business with the murderee, is talking with his wife about a business project that the murdered fella might just ruin. she says, "don't sound so desperate" and he says, "well, i am fucking desperate."

every time you go out on a date, or you do something where you're trying to hook up with someone everyone always says "don't be desperate". well, they have a very valid point. despair is generally not something considered attractive. i don't go to bars saying, ok, who here looks desperate!! ooh! she's desperate, that's so hot! ....ok, maybe i do. but that's beside the point.

the point is, i think our generation is too quick to jump to a conclusion about another person. we're the seinfeld generation, and our development years were spent privy to breakups and rejections based on the most minute and generally unfounded reasons. hell, jerry's rationale bordered on dementia. so we think just because a person is desperate or lonely or one of those things you're not supposed to feel, they're not worth talking to, or going out with or what have you, when really, that's just one aspect of the whole package.

so? she's desperate? does that mean she's going to lose her fucking mind and demand marriage on the first date? no. and it would be retarded to think so.

so? he's desperate? does that mean he's going to be calling you his girlfriend before the first drinks even get to the table? not at all. the desperate DO have some self control.

i'm desperate for a job right now, that doesn't mean i'm going to latch on to the first thing that comes along and start shoveling mule shit for minimum wage, cause i need the money.

my point is, yes, being desperate may be an unattractive quality, but should you write the whole thing off because of one thing that will most likely, go away in time? no, be patient, america.

i mean, if those dudes had shot a horse they thought was worthless, then that whole seaburger story wouldn't have even come to light!! think about THAT.



feeling: hungry, and like seeing 'school of rock'
thinking of: inventing a time machine
song of the day: pictures of you - the cure

i hate football.

it is too stress inducing, and for as long as i've watched football (and known what's going on -- which is to say since i was 9 or 10), i've never even gotten close to grasping the concept of the running game. or at least the part where they dive headlong into a pack of beefy gentlemen, thinking that somehow this veritable ton of man-flesh will part like the red-sea.

take, for instance, today's game of the Texas Longhorns vs. the Kansas St. Wildcats. now, the first half, a wild and woolly game of defense spotted with sporadic bits of offense was alright to watch. it's the first half, the game's not close to over, and most of all, texas was leading. so my blood pressure held steady, and things was aight.

the second half, all hell broke loose, and the Longhorns decided that football was a bit overrated and decided to play laurel ball. the K-St. defensive line ran through our offensive line like a kiddy scissor class cut it up for paper dolls. finally, after i had written off the game to retire to my neverending quest for no-good on the internet, Texas re-got their shit together and narrowly won the game.

i hate this rollercoaster crap - i can't take it. i'm a sensitive man! dammit!

god, i love football.



feeling: a twinge conflicted
thinking of: banging those Texas cheerleaders wearing chaps...do you KNOW how hot that is?
song of the day: you shook me all night long - AC/DC

so i changed the name of my blog.

it sprang from a descarded first line of yesterday's blog and i thought i'd try to take the first few steps away from my decidedly cantankerous disposition by changing the name to something not so...self involved? self pitying? i dunno, one of those self- words.

shall i explain the nature of the new title? by all means, you cry!

well, i've been trying this whole being decisive thing lately, and i figured that was my first step towards true independence, and seeing as how i weigh both the good and the bad in the decision-making process, i figured it somewhat resembled a personal democracy. but a democracy has parts to it, lobbies, if you will, and i had to figure out what, if any, personal lobbies i had in my sack of meat and bones that compiles my sovreign territory.

well, there is the Big Libido lobby. comparable to big tobacco, this particular interest group is very self serving and tends to bend the will of the land of josh to its own ends. big libido, too, is very much like the oil companies, in that it is always only thinking about acquiring new territories to drill.

next is the Piggy Bank. this group is many times at the mercy of big libido, but sometimes can stand up to their relentless filibustering. piggy bank is probably the most responsible of the lobby groups because they have to be consulted before any of the other lobbyists can receive that which they desire most. DVD's for instance. if piggy bank vetoes the purchase of a new DVD by the entertainment lobbyists, then they are powerless to fulfill their mandate.

the aforementioned group, the Entertainment Lobbyists are, like Big Libido, a base group, thinking only of their interests, without fully considering the repercussions that would result if the josh proper acquiesced to their whims. their big expenditures, the DVD market, is a blight and the bane of the Piggy Bank's existence, due to the immense number crunching and paperwork the EGroup generates. the two groups oppose each other a bit like spurs fans and mavericks fans. we'd both rather win, but we don't particularly dislike the other group.

Finally, of the major groups anyway, there is the Brain Lobby. it's a weak, almost ornamental effort on their behalf and it's widely rumored that Big Libido has a man or two inside, whispering in the ear of the leader of the Brain.

I guess i'm more like a wee republic rather than our model of democracy because we don't have a clear leader. but we may move towards a free election sometime in the coming years.

of course, a girlfriend would be the equivalent of a coup d'etat.



feeling: governing
thinking of: banging george lopez's TV wife
song of the day: radio radio - elvis costello

NEW NAME ...
SAME GREAT FLAVOR!!
__________________________________________________________________________________

i've decided i want to be a man about town.

with a modicum of indirect help from my pal damon, i have decided that unemployment suits me quite well, and i could easily go about the rest of my life in a state of what can only be described as -- retirement.

however, destitution comes hand in motherfuckin' hand with unemployment, and seeing as how i'm bored to sobs being destitute, i've decided to forego the whole retirement thing for the time being and find myself a real job. ok, not a real job, but a job where i can make a few hundred a month, to get by for now, pay some bills, buy some booze and women.

also, the whole being fat thing has gotten quite old. i'm not as fat as i used to be and i've successfully watch my diet for the last week and a half with much success, but the thing i need, the thing i truly need, is a gym, and or, a plastic surgeon.

which brings me, in manners resembling a full circle, back to my original statement, regarding my aspirations as a man about town. i was watching the new NBC bastardized version of the BBC's sticom coupling, and it reminded me of one thing -- sitcoms are bullshit. yes, yes, i have confessed many a time to watching sex and the city and the simpsons but those are untraditional sitcoms. i mean, you're not gonna get an episode of friends where rachel decides to experiment with lesbianism and is surprised when oops! phoebe shoots fem-cum on her face! and the simpsons...well, that speaks for itself.

anywho, back to coupling. these people are well dressed phsyically fit individuals who evidently throw their genitalia out on the craps table for a gamble or two every other night. and they have cell phones. now, some may criticize the believability of this scenario actually playing out in my life, given the cards i've been dealt and the skills i've, ahem, honed in my lifetime of watching from the sidelines.

to those people i say - fuck you. cause you're probably right. BUT nonetheless, as ridiculous as it is to attempt to recreate the phoney baloney crap that is life in a sitcom, i think i'll get a lot closer to that kind of life getting off my ass and doing something, than sitting here watching the sitcoms and wishing it was me in there.

or maybe i'll just start drinking again.



feeling: young... and restless... and a little tired....and like having a jello cup
thinking of: officially ending the hiatus
song of the day: deep blue day - brian eno

i'm still on hiatus.

there are those of you -- assholes, i call you, who say, josh - you're not on hiatus if you post!! well, shut the fuck up, first of all. secondly, i used to post every day. now, if you're lucky, twice a week. it's merely because i'm bored, and the writing bug gets to me and it's time for me to stand semi-proudly atop my wee soapbox and preach to the miracle ear generation.

so today riqui posted a message concerning the evolving process of self revelation brought about by the timeless question - "what do you want to be when you grow up". personally, i wanted to be marine biologist, and study sharks, but that was because of my jaws fascination. i used to try to maintain my balance on the back of the couch (the spine, if you will) and pretend i was chief brody on the mast of the 'orca' shooting at the shark. plus, there was always the possibility of a glorious death in the maw of a sea beast, such as a 25 foot great white shark. but that's beside the point.

he also said that as time goes by we become aware of how little we have things figured out. when i was a kid, maybe 10 or so, i used to fantasize about being a doctor, driving a nissan Z, being paged, getting out of my car with a nice suit on and carrying a briefcase. don't ask my why a doctor REALLY needs to carry a briefcase, cause i don't know. but then, it made sense. and now, i don't even have a car, or a job, or a place of my own anymore. and the 2004 350ZX is far too far out of my price range for even playfully considering. but that, too, is beside the point.

i thought that college was gonna be like in the movies where you have an endless hall party going on, and virginity is something that you lose with minimal effort. hell, i thought...who the fuck knows what i thought, i was an idiot. but that's beside the point, as well.

my point is, i have no idea what i want to be when i grow up. i know i'm not grown up, either. i'm a 22 year old baby. i mean, somedays i'd give my left arm to have a nanny, to feed me and tuck me in at night.

or maybe i just need a girlfriend



feeling: like an drooling nudist with sausage link legs
thinking of: wanting to be a hero, or at least employee of the month
song of the day: sittin' on the dock of the bay - otis redding