Propane. Gary. Fire/(small)explosion. Captain and Diet.

Those were the ingredients to my Sunday afternoon working on the deck. I work as a bartender, i.e., I furnish persons with a substance that, if imbibed enough, will kill them. Fantastic, living the dream.

When the propane-fueled out-door-heating-lamp "popped," panic fucked the reason of all those around and Gary threw his drink (Captain Morgan and Diet Coke) at the flames coming from the massive propane tank. Then Murphy didn't show up, the tank didn't explode. (The "pop" was the nozzle burning then popping off the valve.) Gary will go on living the rest of his life, and I'll forever remember this time as 0.

From now on, everyday I live is another day Gary and his Foreigner-thick mustache with matching (self)feathered hair didn't blow my dumb ass up while I was poisoning people for profit.

Sometimes I just feel like the dead-weight in the Ant Farm of God, except for...

Cubs took over 1st place. We suck and we're in first. Cardinals take it in their Pujols!

What I'm listening to: The Dead Weather, Ratatat, The Mars Volta, The Octopus Project, a little TV on the Radio and some Medeski, Martin and Wood, you should too.

Subject is subjective

First I'll confess, I watched it. I sought it out, found it, purchased it, defended it, lied about it and finally watched it. JCVD, no, it's not J.Christ Venereal disease. John-Claude Van fucking Damme. It's far from bad. It's good. I mean really good. Not quite as good as your first slow dance to Journey when you were at the 7th grade homecoming dance, but don't stop believing. I'll admit their are long moments of over the top pretentiousness, despite their apparent brutal honesty/self-deprecation, aside, JCVD CAN act. I wrote it. It's written. Therefore it is. So sayeth Me.

Other movies to look for in the New Release secition: Synecdoche, NY, Burn After Reading, The Wrestler and Benjamin Button. If you haven't seen other Darren Aronofsky films, see them. Same can be said for films Charlie Kaufman has written.

On a side note. Chad Fox pitched tonight. Chad Fox should be given every legal right to shank Dusty Baker (Baseball manager, currently with the Cincinnati Reds.) Steps should be taken and laws bent for such an occurrence to, well, occur. I'm talking shank with the jagged metal from a broken bunk bed in cell block six after a particularly rousing game of "who's the bitch." Dusty deserves it.

I could write about how much I hate Dusty Baker, for well, for longer than I should admit to. Players may love him, but let's be honest. How many good players make great coaches? If you answered yes, you may also be entertained by the ESPN Sunday Night Telecast featuring such baseball guru's as Joe Morgan, John Miller and Steve Philips. Leave here now, my words aren't for you. I'll wait while you navigate away and hopefully drown in the Interweb.

So, if only three people read this, should I just direct it at you? What up Trav, fucking stretch before softball, you ain't no spring chicken. DY, glad to hear about the karate sensei position. E, Cubs win, so you can sing your song.

I am now employed, so the procrastination thing aside, I may write more. I'm gonna be bartending at a sports bar near the Tigers Single A affiliate here in Grapids. To sum up the clientele, well, there's Keno and sleeves seem to be optional. This may be the best job I've had in three years. That seems much sadder than it should.

JCVD, yeah, I said it, I stole your momma's credit, and I'll sock you in the stomach three more times...

Two Arms and Dangerous

"First things first, man, you're fucking with the worst. I'll be sticking pins in your head like a fucking nurse." I always thought I'd start out an unauthorized autobiography like this, alas, it's a blog. I wasn't even sure what "BLOG" meant a couple weeks ago. The quote is ODB, aka, Big Baby Jesus, aka Russel T. Jones. A hero of mine, which may not be the greatest thing ever, but it is what it is.

Don't know if there will be a motif for this, I just need to write words.

Blogging. Hmm. I started out typing on a type writer and my first albums were on cassette. I've been writing scripts for the last 10 years, mostly one story told about 50 different ways.

How surprising, it only took me half a page to start talking about Pelican. So here it is, if anyone is interested in "An anti-romantic comedy about hop-scotching the fog roads of hell" or a movie about "Murder, mystery, romance and mayhem at a motel on The River Styx" or just a movie that "Is NOT a Matthew Broderick vehicle" send a message and we can discuss the transaction.

You can find a spec scene for it here.

I drink beer, this makes me use a shit ton of commas. Enjoy them because they love us.

So let's talk about the Cubs. The fuck. We trade Marquis to the Rockies only to lose to him in the first month of the season. The Fuck. Oh, if you think Theriot is a good short stop, stop readingt this, it isn't for you. Also, send me your address and I'll beat you with two dead baby seals until further notice. Or maybe give you a mild bruising.

There is beer to drink and I'm sure I'm talking to myself. Being an only child I'm used to it, Thank God my pops made sure I had a dog or else I may have developed some sort of complex about it. I'm in love with myself but I've been known to cheat.

"One final word for the finer birds taking notes, I dig a chick in pit-tails, that's all folks." If you don't know who Aesop Rock go to Limewire and pirate Labor Days. It's worth it.

The future may cause side-effects,
Jak