Hard work

His head hurt. It was thumping. Thunder and lightning outside didn’t help any. The clothes he wore were soaking wet. His hands were sore from forging his future. He probably should go now that the rain picked up. It didn’t seem to bother him the last four or five hours. Then it was just raining. Now there was lightning and lightening is nothing to play with. Nothing at all. He dragged himself back to the truck and climbed inside with a sigh. He greedily ate the sandwich he brough along and sighed loudly.

NFL Week 3 Picks

I am so very thrilled that the prognosticators are more wrong than right. The games are better to me than they have been at the start of the season in quite a while. If New England doesnt show well this week, listen to the two sides of the same coin. One side will panic and write them off. The other side will panic and warn us not to write them off. BOTH sides will make every excuse in the world for why the Pats dont look good. Every excuse, that is, except they got beatup by a better team.

Like pasta on the wall… here are my week 3 picks.. lets see what sticks!

KC @ PHI   PHI -9

GB @ STL   GB -9

SF @ MIN  MIN -3

TEN @ NYJ  NYJ -3

ATL @ NE  ATL -1

JAC @ HOU   HOU -1

NYG @ TB    TB -1

WAS @ DET  DET -1

CLE @ BAL  BAL -17

CHI @ SEA  CHI -1

NO @ BUF   NO -17

MIA @ SD  MIA -7

DEN @ OAK  OAK -3

PIT @ CIN  CIN -1

IND @ ARI   IND  -10

CAR @ DAL  CAR -1 UPSET OF THE WEEK

Now listen children. I advise you not to gamble. But if you do, don’t use my picks.

Dump it out

I have like a hundred and fifty pages of handwritten stuff dating back to the summer of 91. I have been going through it and rereading it and dumping shit out as well as posting some stuff in an effort to feel the growth of my ideas and to try to put my stuff into perspective better. 50% of what I have down is pure garbage. I sometimes don’t even know what the fuck I was thinking. Some of it is so angry and violent that I don’t know that it would be smart to post that. Even though I could give a fuck less than a fuckless beggar what anyone else thinks.

Therein lies the rub.

I need to start to read the things I make available for others to read, like someone who doesn’t know the back story. Not everyone knows a kid named Bobby Ward got $5 from me in fifth grade for a book called “Fart” that he never gave me before I had to switch schools. And since not everyone knows that, they won’t understand that I (EDITED FOR CONTENT) that cat some six years later after a chance encounter.

To better put that… I need to simplify.

Conceptually some of the things I am editing to post are way crazy. Some of it is even stupid. Things I wrote when I was 16 may tend to seem a little focused. Certainly probably a little hornier than they should be. Things I wrote in college may seem reflective and even, I can understand if it looks that way, depressing. I will only put forth this. That if someone followed you around and randomly took a picture of you at random points in the day…. some of it will certainly be disturbing. The things I have posted and will continue to post are snapshots. The explanation may not be as interesting as the picture it’s self.

Soy Milk

The signs are there. I am getting old. When did it happen? How did it happen? I don’t know. But I am officially old now. I not only drink soymilk… but i caught myself drinking it willingly when there were OTHER options available to me. A funeral for my youth is scheduled for sometime this week.

Wanna know a secret?

Wanna know a secret? Wanna know several secrets? I know nothing about fantasy football. I mean nothing. When people talk about it I zone out and think about how much I loved my Green Machine Big Wheel.

*shrug*

Fantasy football? Is that like stratomatic baseball? And since I am being so honest I might as well admit I have never seen an ultimate fight or mixed martial arts or whatever it goes by. Yes I’m straight. Fuck you. I just never watched one. I have seen highlights. It looks cool and whatnot but I just havent been interested enough to make time for it in my tv schedule.

*shrug*

And another thing… I have never seen an episode of Lost. Yeah yeah I know I know. Someone I trust swears by it. In fact I have been told I need to watch the first two seasons even if that means buying it. (you mean with real money?) I dunno if anything on tv is worth buying…. while it’s still on the air?

*grimace*

And since we are bitching about something that doesnt matter… Let me say for the record that SPORTS is my reality show. I have never seen an episode of Survivor, Fat brides (and I love a pretty fat woman…), rich man seeks gold diggers, difficult pregnancy, help me raise my bad ass kids, please take my crazy ass wife and let me have yours… whatever the shows are.. I dont watch. I suppose I am still too close to drama to find other people’s drama worth sitting through.

Fuck that.

I admit I watched the first 3 seasons of the Real World but by season three when they threw Puck out the house I was convinced they were going to always toss out the one muthafucka in the house who wasnt about the bullshit that was popular in the house… Then, from what I could tell… they did the best they could to ’script’ it but putting volatile peoples in the same environment to create and maintain a false sense of conflict. Fuck that. Fuck that. Plus it gets old after a little while….

I was unfortunate enough to see an episode (my second by the way) of Bridezilla. Oh my!

I think they look for the clearest case of couples who won;t work out and who shouldnt be together and they follow around the bride to be as she is a terrible shit leading up to her wedding. I know it is probably being played up for the cameras but the crazy is high on the what the fuck meter. And I reminded my wife that some women make a huge mistake in thinking that because a man loves them and takes their shit, doesn’t mean he wont tire of it one day and leave.

I should pitch a show idea of the reality of the divorce. Follow the once bridezillas around 3 years later when that guy realizes that a woman might love you who isn’t nuttier than a christmas fruitcake dipped in peanut butter. Call it Divorcedzilla.

I’ll tell you one more secret. If these shows and ones like them went off the air I wouldn’t miss them at all. Unfortunately they are probably here to stay. That said, it wont be a secret anymore that at least one guy could give a fuck less.

Full moon

Full moon. There I lay, stretched out on the hood of my car enjoying the silence. Feeling the breeze, thinking about days come and gone. Opportunities missed, bad options taken. Here, in the bright darkness I get to be honest with myself. No distractions. Nothing to lead me to a thought. Nothing to lead me away from one either. Silently listening to the things I had already been told. Some things never set in. Some took hold and were forgotten. Some things   I knew before they were ever said. Some things forgotten. Some things I can’t forget.

Here. In the quite dark I can be thankful to God. Here, I get to say I’m sorry. Here I get to ask for forgiveness. Forgiveness for all I ever did wrong. And I pray. God. Since I can’t seem to stop making mistakes… please let me learn from them and not make the same ones twice.

In a hurry

The backend got sideways as he jumped off the clutch and punched it. The car got low and lurched forward like a cat that had it’s tail stepped on. It screamed like a cat too. A big ass mean fast moving angry cat.

Second gear. Tires squeal loudly. The beast under the hood growled as the red and blue lights start to fade in the rearview.

Third gear. Tires peeled again. Dipping and dodging in and out of the light sunday evening traffic like a kitten with it’s tail on fire. The engine purred loudly as he shifted smoothly.

Fourth gear. One hundred and ten and still accelerating. The blue lights were almost a distant memory. They must be stuck in traffic. His heart beat in tune with the pistons in the car as he watched the needle go as far to the right as it would go.

He was in a hurry and had to get where he was going.

Spades

In the background AL Green sang about love and happiness. In the kitchen a serious spades game was starting up. Tony and his new girlfriend Keesha were playing against Tony’s brother Drake and his wife Tasha. Drake took a drag off his Benson and Hedges.

“Now you know he gone dump you if you can’t play spades..”

“Stop that!” Tony said.

Tasha leaned over to Keesha and assured her, “Girl. He must like you. We never meet the new girlfriend this soon. Much less play spades! This must be the final test!” She smiled and tapped the table near Keesha’s hand.

“Yall need to go somewhere with that shit. Keesha. Watch them. They like to talk across the table. They have codes and shit.” Tony said while pointing to his eyes and then to hers.

“This how he knows if you down or not. Im telling you he won’t be calling you after this if you lose badly. You will loose badly so it has been nice meeting you.”

“Don’t pay him no nevermind girl.” Tasha said.

“I’m just playing. I’m serious but I’m kidding. But… I’m serious.”

“Don’t pay him no nevermind girl.”

“Oh and you better not renig. Think I’m playing? When we were kids we were playing our folks one day and I renigged and he didn’t speak to me for a week. He wouldn’t even look at me for three days. AND WE SHARED A ROOM! This fool slept on the couch he was so mad at me! See! See! Look at him! Not a peep out of him cause he know I ain’t lying!”

“Don’t pay him no nevermind girl. These two don’t get out much. You damn sure can’t take them nowhere.”

Keesha had been quite the whole time. She finally spoke up. “It’s O.K. I like shit talking spades players. Especially when they get beat bad!” Keesha laughed loudly.

“Awww shit! I like her already! Keep this one bruh. Keep her. Definately keep her. ESPECIALLY if she will keep coming back for this ass whuppin’!” He thumped his cards on the table and took his book.

“Girl. Can you play?” Tasha asked.

“We will see,” Keesha said smiling. She winked at Tony who looked nervous.He wanted her to like them. He wanted them to like her. But right now, he just wanted her to be able to back that shit up and be able to play spades.

Overheard today

In explaining that his ex girlfriend was promiscuous, one man told the other, “My ex girlfriend is a regular pussy pinata. Everybody get to hit it.”

That would have been enough but the guy he was talking to paused and apparently got a visual and responded by grimacing and saying, “Damn!”

Big Mama Syndrome

Above the deafening sounds of lost souls crying I can hear her heavy breathing. Breaths like she is in pain. Breaths like pleasure’s pulse. She is almost 40 but she could pass for 60. Her eyes are sunk back in her head like headlights after an accident. She grinds her teeth and winces in pain from carrying the weight of her world on her back. She has such a high pain threshold she didn’t even bother to see a doctor after her last heart attack. She didn’t even take a break from that low paying stressful job she hates so much. Why go see a doctor?

They will just give her more pills to take. Pills she can’t afford.Pills that she only takes sometimes because she says they make her sick. Doctors don’t know what they talking about anyway. They are like weathermen. Besides, according to them, she should already be dead.  There was that time when she had that stroke. And there was that time when her heart stopped beating.She had cheated death before and she wasn’t afraid to die.

But she is afraid to live.

She  is convinced she would be being selfish bought herself something nice for a change. She would be being selfish if she, in her mind, if she took a day off from either of her two full time jobs. She couldn’t take time off from her part time job of looking for other work!It would be wrong to take time off because who would take care of her family if she didn’t? Her life is a dirty glass of water with a twist of irony. Her children are adults. They should be taking care of themselves. Instead she works two jobs to support children who wont work at all.

A raggidy mess, stands dressed in cheap used clothes. The total sum of everything she is wearing cost less than the new shoes she buys her grandson every month. Eyeglasses and all. And yet this proud foolish woman eats Ramen everyday so she can give her 35 year old brother money for his daily cigarettes and beer. This unhealthy and tired woman holds together a family not worth holding.

Her please to the younger women to step up and assume the role of Queen Mother matriarch go unanswered. She suffers from Big Mama Syndrome. A heroic dedication to the continuation of a family concept that has gone the way of the milkman and black and white television. A concept whereby a strong woman, in the absence of a strong man, holds a family together like crazy glue while attempting to focus on the word ‘glue’ and ignore the word ‘crazy’.

And like any real hero, no one appreciates you and your selfless act until it is too late. Heros accept their role before others become aware that they are avoiding their own. Thats Big Mama.

Unable to convince the younger women to be gullible and accept this role. She cannot convince them to stop being self centered and think about everyone else for a while. She preaches and quotes scriptures and swears by the good that she feels in her heart. But she cannot get through to them, no matter how hard she tries. So she deflects. Maybe shame or fear will motivate them. THEY will ultimately be the reason the family falls apart. THEY didn’t get bitten by the Big Mama bug. This is the last generation for the Big Mama Syndrome.

Maybe just maybe they will live a life that isn’t about taking care of people who wont take care of themselves. Maybe they wont be worried about the lost souls around them. Maybe they wont be so worn down that they don’t look up when they cross that busy street and get hit by that bus.