The Wee Democracy

distractions

a reprint of the funniest interview i've read in a while, starring my homeboy, dane cook:

Can you believe the stink that was made because we got to see one of Janet Jackson's breasts for half a second?
The fact of the matter is this: I saw Janet's titola for half a second. A half a second of tit is more than no tit, and you know what a guy can mentally do with a half-a-second sneak peek of a tit? Growing up we had cable, but only basic channels. I was the king of watching Cinemax and jerkin' it to a shaky, scrambled half a second of titty. Half a second? Christ, I saw a chick's boob flop out of her bikini at a pool party eight years ago, and we're still living together in my cerebellum. Only now I give her wings, and she does me on the edge of a cliff in a giant nest made of birch bark.

Ever been caught jerking off?
My mom walked in on my once. I was actually standing in the middle of my room nude, holding my hog with my left hand and a Boba Fett action figure in my right. When my mother opened the door, I just froze there on my tippy toes, gripping me and Fett.

What's the worst thing you ever said to a woman?
Umm, I was trying to be funny at the end of a bad date with this hot girl. I walked her to her front door and said, "May I fuck you good-night?"

What was the worst job you had growing up?
I was working at KFC, and the manager told me to clean the bathroom. When I went in, there floating in the toilet bowl was an entire chicken breast. All I could think was either someone really doesn't chew their food, or that's the secret recipe.

Name one thing you've used your celebrity status for.
Free food kicks ass. When I'm in New York, I always seem to go into pizza places where someone's seen my act. I get the hookup. A free slice of pizza makes you feel like a pimp.

Is there anything more degrading than having to take a shit in a public bathroom that has no door?
Yeah, try it in China. I was there doing a flick two years ago, and in most public restrooms in China, they not only don't use doors but they don't use stalls or fucking toilets. I swear to God, outside of the major cities, it is a hole in the ground. I used the bathroom at an airport in Dunhuang. There was a guy in there in a business suit squatting like a praying mantis. Also they don't use toilet paper there. They actually use lettuce.

What was the best practical joke you were a part of?
I've got a buddy who's obsessed with porn. He collects it. His family even knows how diehard he is about his porno. So I hired an actor and actress to start fooling around, and I taped it. I gave it to my friend and told him, "This homemade porn is the best ever." He said he'd be the judge of that. He takes it home and starts cranking it as the actor and actress start getting hot and heavy. Right when the scene gets really intense and my buddy's got his dick out, I had his parents walk in from off camera and look directly into the lens and say, "Our son is disgusting." He called me, freaking out! He said he though the Gods of Porno were stealing his soul.

What's one thing all women should know about men?
The Weezer song "No One Else" says it best: "I want a girl who will laugh for no one else." When a guy sees his girl laughing at something another guy says, deep down it kills us to hell. It also tells us that that guy could have our woman. As a comedian, I know this to be true. Every night I can look out and see it. The chick is cracking up and the guy is laughing, but not as hard as her. Somewhere inside, that guy just lost her a little, and he knows it.

Have you ever tried Viagra?
Nope. I don't need it. I have a little trick called "look at the girl naked." That seems to heat me up plenty.

Have you ever left a strip club with one of the strippers or cocktail waitresses?
Hell yes. Comic and stripper are a great match. Those stripper girls love to laugh. Because there is nothing funny about getting moaned at by a fat dude blowing his liquid Ming in his slacks while you grind your rear on his third chin.

What's the worst way to die?
To get eaten by a shark. The first bite has to suck. You're in the ocean enjoying the peace and tranquility, and next thing you know your legs are halfway down a bull shark's throat while you try to figure out how to swim, paddling with what's left of your hips. At least getting eaten by a shark has some kind of story to it. It's somewhat of a bad-ass way to die. If you're gonna get eaten, let it be by a shark or a grizzly bear. Because no one wants to be this guy: "Hey, what happened to Mike?" "Oh, you didn't hear? Fucking goat got him."

imagery

picture a still water's surface. then a small bubble rising. then a few more. then a massive upward splash and a drenched head emerging, gasping for air, hair pasted down, limbs flailing inexpertly. that's how it is these days. getting some air, but the stablility is somewhat tenuous at best.

apologies

things will be scarce here for a bit. until i get things all settled and orderly.

the end of the democracy...?

i'm leaving texas pretty soon. i'm going to new york. and part of that means that i'll be abandoning the wee democracy.

i haven't decided how long it will last, or if i'll just start a new blog after i get settled. i dunno. but i think i'm ready for a change of sorts.

that drowning feeling

hard to get out of bed these days. i was going to write about how it was good to have a job in times like this, just so that you have to get out of bed, and do something with your day, but that's not the case. i don't want to go in at all, and i know when i get off, ain't nothin' gonna be different anyway.

hard not to slip into that self pity thing, which, in itself, can cause a pretty healthy amount of self loathing, like, man, my life sucks, followed by, man, you're a spoiled motherfucker. there are people who are alot worse off than you, and you're here bitching cause you're lonely. wah wah. see? tough cycle.

hard to get motivated to do anything, even things you normally like, or look forward to. even watching curb your enthusiasm, a guaranteed laugh generator, barely works.

hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel, hell, even to believe there's a light there.

hard to feel like you deserve happiness, or even the pursuit of it.

hard to put on a stoic face all the time, and share none of this. hard not to spill your guts at the next person who shows you any kindness at all.

hard to put one foot in front of the other, like they say to do.

hard to understand why it is the way it is. i was going to write why it has to be this way, but i do know it doesn't have to be this way. harder to understand how to begin to change it. harder still to change all that needs changing.

hard to listen to the voices in the dark, representatives of the friends you've got, and recognize there's a warm body behind them. they've got a safety net set up for you, but you can't see it, like the forest for the trees.

hard to sleep. hard to eat...right.

hard not to cry.

minute by minute

its been building for some time now, and the rising tide can't always be stopped, squashed, pushed back. you open your eyes in the morning and you know you won't make it.

6:15 am - alarm goes off. snooze.

6:23 am - alarm goes off. snooze.

6:31 am - alarm goes off, stumble cold and sticky eyed into the bathroom. curse.

6:38 am - retrieve shirt, begin ironing process. watch good morning america, grow tired of news on hurricane frances. wish i lived on a beach, despite threat of storms and sharks.

7:05 am - engage in the breakfast making process. prepare mexican death dish. devour hastily.

7:25 am - shave. curse.

7:30 am - do battle with five baby roaches in the shower, try to wash them down drain, end up scooping them up with TP and flushing.

7:33 am - shower. wash hair. lather, rinse, repeat.

7:40 am - emerge cold, naked, from shower. administer gold bond, deodorant, burberry. apply clothing.

7:49 am - check email. none. become depressed.

7:50 am - dejected, head out to bus stop.

7:58 am - bus arrives. get on. listen to bjork, post (live). become worried over the lack of battery juice indicated by the flashing display. wonder how much of the precious juice is being sapped by the complicated blinking process.

8:29 am - arrive downtown. too hot. sticky. wait for train.

8:32 am - train arrives. get on. read Q, the abbreviated version of the dallas morning news, and the sickening trend of republicanism in texas youths. curse them.

8:59 am - arrive at destination. miss bus by about 15 seconds.

9:01 am - fight back tears. debate going back upstairs to train, and home.

9:04 am - decide to go get a bottle of water and some batteries at the gas station next door. switch to belle and sebastian, dear catastrophe waitress.

9:31 am - bus finally arrives.

9:50 am - arrive at mall.

9:51 am - fight back more tears.

10:00 am - get busy at work, can't be depressed anymore. too busy. can still be tired.

11:27 am - notice i'm not tired, or busy, become depressed again.

1:35 pm - go to lunch. chik-fil-a: 12 nuggets, chicken sandwich.

1:55 pm - retire to my secret nap spot. nap, heartily. try not to think of depressing things.

2:45 pm - return to work, bleary eyed, slightly rumpled.

4:45 pm - witness a customer accuse my partner of racism. laugh at partner.

5:43 pm - get five hundred dollar sale. rejoice. escape

5:50 pm - clock out. call diana. can't hear. hang up.

6:01 pm - get on bus to go home. talk to lisa on cell phone.

6:18 pm - wait at train station.

6:23 pm - get on train station full of texas tech people. laugh at them. miss school. resume depression.

6:48 pm - arrive downtown, wait for bus. talk to lisa some more. grow more depressed.

7:08 pm - notice bus is quite later than usual. grow impatient.

7:20 pm - call DART to bitch, but they are closed. curse to self, quite vulgarly.

7:27 pm - board the bus that is the more circuitous route to home. curse.

8:15 pm - arrive. tired, hungry, pissed, sad.

8:16 pm - receive no real mail.

8:18 pm - receive no email.

8:33 pm - begin blogging to alleviate depression.

9:03 pm - realize attempt is futile. wrap up entry.



feeling: vomit
thinking of: packing up
song of the day - hyperballad - bjork
i do all this before you wake up so i can feel happier to be safe again with you

of bright moons, red suns, and falling stars

remember that entry i wrote awhile back, about going out at night and looking up at the sky? well, i've been thinking about it again recently, though not in the same semi-depressing way. i guess it started on...monday night. i was rolling the garbage out once again to the curb, and i noticed how bright it was outside. i mean, the moon was so bright it was casting these really awesome pale blue shadows across the lawn, and it just made me smile. it reminded me of when i first moved back to dallas, just over a year ago (god, that sounds like torture).

anyways, i just found it amazing. i flew to iowa last year, as the few and faithful know. it was cloudy in some areas of the country between here and there, and it was dark. i looked out the window, into the clouds just as we were clearing them and flying right above them. the moon lit up the top of them like a soft white blanket, and it remains the most beautiful sight i've ever seen.

back to monday night. it was around 2 or so in the morning, and i'd already been outside to bask in the moonlight for a few minutes at a time, so i wanted to look out and see the landscape (you know, as much landscape as there is in the 'hood) bathed in the light again, and about one and a half seconds after i looked out the window, i saw a little bright white streak going across the sky.

i've always been lucky like that, it seems. when there's a meteor shower (like the perseids a couple of weeks ago) i can go outside for a minute or two and manage to see myself a pretty good one.

then this morning, i walked outside and noticed that everything looked pink. i looked up at the sky and noticed the sun hitting the clouds just so and casting a soft pink hue over everything, making the whole place seem like a nice little womb, and soothing my frazzled nerves before work, the frazzling being a result of another chase dream wherein this time the chaser was a massive anaconda (man, i'm impressionable). at the end of the street, by the bus stop, i turned around and looked up and just enjoyed it. the pink only last for about five minutes, before giving way to orange, and then to boring ol' white. a man walked up to me while i was facing the sky. he kept his back to the sun. it seemed appropriate.

during all these times when i'm enjoying the grandiosity (is that even a word) of the sky, i'm usually just stricken with equal parts awe and sorrow. not sorrow that i'm so small in the vastness of this whole universe thing, but rather, sorrow that i feel like the only person who gets to enjoy such an amazing and beautiful sight, and that's a terribly unfair allocation of beauty, and sorrow that no one else is around to share in it.



feeling: pacified
thinking of: hmm
song of the day: nice dream - radiohead
if you think that you're strong enough, if you think you belong enough...