A quote

"I'd rather be used constantly than loved occasionally"-me

Eskmo 'We Got More' (Official Video)

Short synopsis of what I may write about wikileaks, a fresh disturbing take.

I foresee this Wikileaks scandal becoming a big aid to special interests in the upcoming legislative battle over net neutrality. The short version of what I want to write about is this is going to be like 9/11 for the Patriot act. They are going to argue the FCC splitting the internet into two tiers is going to help them prevent the flow of damaging information such as these leaks, and they will be partially right.

The horrible side effect of this good event is that it could contribute to the END of the internet as we know it. This could help the telecommunications company get their way, making it more expensive for all people involved, greatly reduce the amount of information available, create censorship capability for businesses and the governmental through the right of server restrictions, and make the archived information on the internet dwindle greatly in size. All of these things are not in the interest of humanity. Soon free service sites will become a thing of the past and the internet will be made to be privatized and conform to the free market. The internet might be the best thing in spreading information and allowing the masses to gather the knowledge to fight the establishment.

We really need to get people aware of this, because it is coming soon. AT&T was one of Obama’s biggest supporters in money and they want this BAD. He will sign that legislation if it comes to his desk, and now I doubt any congressmen will stand up to it thanks to Wikileaks, The poster child for net neutrality.

Reaffirmed through the great friend loss of 2010. A.K.A. The midterm election.

I often try things with social medium in order to gauge the reaction of others and play the role of freelance social scientist. I often think there will be some epiphany or proof gleamed from my efforts that will bring a new light to how people operate within our world. The funny thing is Facebook and Twitter are designed to make you feel more special by having people recognize every component of your mundane life and reward you for wit and class by comments and likes. Even when I am experimenting I tend to hope for positive responses, but am often surprised by how my efforts are taken.

I go through trends of attempting to be very inclusive, kind, and engaging in order to improve my responses. This does not seem to work for me as my rates of response are at an all time low statistically. I keep tabs on what people do in response to what I say in public forums such as threads and Facebook. The results are pretty similar. In fact the only responses I tend to get are negative or at least in disagreement. Even more interesting is how much more responses I receive when I am negative myself. I think Glen Beck and the like have it figure out.

Just be as crazy and negative as possible and you will get about one third of the people enthralled with you, one third will hate you and fight you, and and the rest will straight up ignore you. My status updates seem to follow that when I am negative, and when I am witty and intelligent or supportive and kind I get nearly a sixth of the responses.

It pays to be an ass, if your preferred payment is attention. Coincidentally, (and NOT ironically, people ought to learn dey english) this is exactly the method used to win the midterms for the Republicans. They just went and threw a tantrum and would not do anything constructive. They dealt in negativity and a pompous level of insanity previously reserved for the street corner prophets adorned in sandwich-board. These opinion makers and policy procrastinators created a discourse of doom and an attitude of the bully-victim. In reality these people were acting out to get attention and it worked well. A third of the population (the Democrats) were outraged, a third (the Republicans) were enthralled with them, and a third (moderates and independents) just got apathetic.

Just like on Facebook when I made a ton of very negative comments about all the people who were friends that not in support of my approved agenda for America.

my comments received skyrocketed via this same ratio. I received attention both positive and negative for my actions. A lesson any boy in the sixth grade already knows, relearned thanks to the internet. A class clown is popular, hated, and ignored by different groups of the micro-society around them. This is no different for society on the whole, whether it be the society of Facebook, Twitter, Fox News watchers, or voters. The negative discourse always garners more attention.

197 Trillion reasons, none of them good.

‎"Would taking such a stand be politically risky? Yes, of course. But Mr. Obama’s economic policy ended up being a political disaster precisely because he tried to play it safe. It’s time for him to try something different."- PAUL KRUGMAN NY Times November 4, 2010

Exactly, this is my biggest gripe with the current administration. I did not want someone to reach across the isle, I wanted revenge. Not only did he not do that, but when republicans did the equivalent of a sit-down strike in congress the democrats continued to try and play nice. I wanted them to say, you know what act like babies about this but you had your time and now is our time. Instead of shoving things down their throats they attempted to gather support and input, which is a pretty big thing to do.

After all of that the Red fools still acted like all the Dems did was shove things down their throats.

Only in America can you get blamed for doing too much and too little at the same time.

I have said this many a time without anyone believing me. Perhaps I should have spent my collegiate career learning the art of sophistry in order to be believable like the NY Times.

I currently am reading how the economic free market fails us, with a lot of help from policy makers across the world and their center in Washington.

Wages and salaries in the United States now make up the lowest share of the nation's GDP since the government began recording the data in 1947, while corporate profits as a share of national income have climbed to their highest ration since the 1960s. (Jeter Flat Broke in the Free Market.)

There are a hundred million of such quotes I could just take right out of this book, instead I suggest you read it. I will give you one more that illustrates some of the Democratic angst with the Democrats.

"Consider, as one example, that the Democratic Party- once the party of the American working class - rasied $340.3 million in campaign contributions from big business in 2000, compared to $52.4 million from organized labor."

Arena Woes: Why Ilitch should not buy the Pistons in order to build a stadium

All of the talk about the Pistons potential new purchaser has peaked the interests of the paper writers. All of the talk flying around seems to do nothing more than hurt my head. Drew Sharp has written that no owner could own three teams without one of those teams hurting. First off, he fails to recognize that the Pistons previous owner accomplished just that in the last decade! Davison owned the Detroit Shock, Tampa Bay Lightning, and of course the Pistons. Each of these teams has won a championship in the 2000s, so in what way can an owner not successfully manage three teams? If Ilitch has the passion, which he does for two of his teams already, and the money then he can do a good job.

Secondly, Drew then complained that it would clearly be the Pistons and not the Red Wings that would suffer, while leaving the Tigers completely out of the mix. Personally I believe that in terms of management, the only thing Ilitch will do is hire the person he believes can best put things together and then sign checks. This is why the Wings are so good and the Tigers can be up and down, it is because of the people he put in place. In terms of running the team, I still put that more in the hands of the front office then in the owner.

However the three teams could suffer in other ways, and I find that the pistons are the least likely to suffer from these ways. The Tigers could end up seeing their budget drop off in a way the other two sports teams would not. The highly structured cap of the NBA makes the contracts default to set maximums within a hard cap. If Ilitch owned the Pistons this off season, the money spent on the Tigers and Wings would make no impact on the size of contract he could have offered LeBron, Wade, Bosh or Darko for that matter. With the soft cap and the way the team is built currently they would still be spending the same amount of cash.

The Wings have always played up to the cap and have little wiggle room, so it is possible they would suffer, but not as likely given our history. The Tigers however have moved players because they did not want to pay a lot of salary, and they have gone into the luxury tax, meaning if they do again it will cost them even more money. If there is anywhere to cut salary it would be the sport with the highest cap, highest costs, and highest repercussions to going over. Sure it is Mike’s greatest love, but perhaps not as much as his love of money. If salary is going to come into play I would bet on it affecting the Tigers.

The Wings are the only ones this seems to really impact negatively in a realistic manner. A shared arena between basketball teams and hockey teams really equates to squeezing a hockey rink in to a basketball arena whenever there isn’t the more popular sport of basketball being played. This means the Wings would have to schedule their games around the Pistons, which could lead to tighter schedules where our superstars would be more exhausted or rusty depending on the nature of the schedule, both of which could lead to injuries.

The Wings would also have to play on much inferior ice, ask any player when they keep switching back and forth between hardwood and ice, the ice surface suffers while the court remains the same. This would highly affect the Red Wings puck possession-crisp passing style of play. It makes the game slower and leads to bad bounces, both things have hurt the Wings in the playoffs before and neither are things I want to see more of. The boards would be drastically different from night to night if they were rushed to be reassembled constantly which would take another home-ice advantage out of their pockets.

Not only would the Wings suffer, but the fans would too. Have you ever been to a hockey game in a basketball arena? I have not only seen NHL games in other arenas, where you are so far away from the action it feels as bad as when they put hockey games into Ford Field, but I have seen the Vipers play at the Palace and shutter at the prospect that this is our future. That doesn’t even bring into account that ticket prices will skyrocket to pay for this new arena so a ticket in the back row could be 3 times higher while being 50% farther away from the action. All of this without brining into account of midlevel suites. Often first row seats in the corners would be at awkward angles several feet above the ice like at Madison Square Garden, leaving fans in the corners incapable of seeing the action in the corners. Good thing nothing ever happens in the corners at a hockey game!

I have read several times how this could be such a game changer for Detroit. How a new dual stadium would make our town more of a destination, and revitalize the city. I just wonder where that logic comes from. If the Pistons and the Wings get a stadium together, all that would mean is that we have three arenas downtown. Let me think a second so I do not make a mistake while counting. Ford Field… Comerica Park… Joe Louis Arena… three. Yep, we already have three arenas, so how would this be any different?

Maybe they mean a new arena would make people come downtown. Wait a minute though, they already come downtown for the Wings, Lions, and Tigers games anyways, even in this poor economy. I guess if it was built next to the Fox… but then you would just have a higher concentration in one spot and we would be revitalizing an area of downtown that is already been revitalized… I just do not see how that would help. Maybe it would create revenue for the city of Detroit… no Rosenberg correctly points out that this could cost the city of Detroit over $400 million when the city is already beyond broke.

The only benefits I could see are for the Ilitch bottom line. The city builds him a new arena that would make his land skyrocket in value, allow him to hog all the profits, and have a building that could be booked every night. I do not like the prospects of doing all of this to make the richest amongst us better off. I would rather see ticket prices stay low, the quality of all games remain high, and the city be less centralized and more vibrant.

The Pistons deserve to be downtown as well, but I don’t think it wise to force the issue. I surely am a Wings fan first and believe that the sports franchise that is amongst the oldest in the sport and most successful in Detroit should have the honor and right to have its own building. The Phoenix Suns and Coyotes do not share a stadium and they pale in comparison of the Pistons and Wings in history and success. The Joe needs a facelift for sure or maybe even to be rebuilt, but not to the point that the Pistons should be sold to get this accomplished. If the Wings were to move away from that spot it NEEDS to be to a spot of their own. The Pistons could always get more out of the Palace which is in good shape, or find a place of their own downtown.

Best case scenario is that there are two separate new buildings both east and west of the Renaissance building so the city can grow again in every spot. Or maybe Wayne State deserves some revitalization, or perhaps around eight mile. Macomb County just had suffered a massive loss in economic terms according to another Free Press article based on census data, maybe the Wings would fit in there better? The point of all of this is that this issue is not a magic bullet that will solve everyone’s problems and if we treat it like that we are going to as a city, sports teams, and fans suffer because of it. Ford Field and Comerica worked because they are dedicated complexes with dedicated owners for dedicated fans. The Pistons and Wings deserve no less, if Ilitch isn’t that owner willing to have dedicated complexes, then I say the Pistons owe it to the city to sell to someone else who is in it to win it. “It” not being money from the downtrodden people of Detroit.

Happy Get Your Stereotypes Wrong Day

We decided, me and my two oldest friends Dave and Tom, that today would be a day dedicated to making as many completely confusing stereotypical statements. That is right, it is get your stereotypes wrong day!

Over a fun lunch, we just continued to say over and over again about how the Chinese were lazy, how much Brazilians steal, how Norwegians couldn't drive with their slanted eyes, how there are only black CEOs, or how perverted Canadians are.

Stereotypes are always pretty much a bad thing to say, but they seem even more retarded when they are perplexing AND wrong. Almost as retarded as French people! Like we all know all black people are not good at basketball., it is a wrong statement inherently with it's logical flaws and spiteful motives. It seems to become even more apparently wrong when you do not back it up with specious empirical data. Indeed who cannot laugh at the silly nature of saying you are sick of all policemen being Columbian. This is so ridiculous, that I hope we all start celebrating August 9th as Get Your Stereotypes Wrong day.

I decree.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emperor_Norton

Yeah I want to be this guy when I am older.

Conversations with a friend on labour-Capital relations.

I was having a conversation with my friend about the research he was doing on a strike that happened over 100 years ago. We were brainstorming and it got me excited for my ideas, so I thought I would put a bit up for reading. The ideas may be expanded upon in the future on my blog and in my writings.

10:07pmMe

The blame for the violence fell on the homestead strikers and public opinion swayed back. The government moved harshly against them, and the mill simply shut down ending unionization on that particular plant.

10:09pmMe

Not surprising as Marx himself had the viewpoint of Government that coincided with this.

Pretending neutrality to maintain order, but serving the interests of the rich. Not that the rich agreed among themselves: they had disputes over policies. But the purpose of the state was to settle upper-class disputes peaceably, control lower class rebellion, and adopt policies that would further the long-range stability of the system. -Howard Zinn in The People’s History of the United States

While many unions continued successfully with their struggles, in this steel business area the combined might of capital, and the politicians they owned, proved too much for Steel workers.

The gap is growing still. The recent court decisions, union membership, and trends of southern states to become right to work states, has lead to a realization. The government still seeks to settle disputes between capitalists, not workers and business. Giants such as wall-mart crush the unions before they form all the same. In many parts of the country to speak of unions, is to speak for socialism, a word looked at with disgust.

10:14pmMe

The government does nothing to aid labor in making a place as equals to capital, instead it is always the subjugated to rich white men.

10:15pmMe

You know what

I have to stop

I could actually see writing a good paper on this myself...

Untitled.

I'm hungry, hurt multiple times, sick, procrastinating, battered bruised, hardly ever amused, thinking of migrating, the heats to thick cannot move without perspirating.
I'll eat some crackers and wash my mouf outwit listerine. That stuff is harsh but now comes in tangerine.

Drive full blast the stereo and air please, down to the doctor to help with my disease. He said I cannot help you with the voices in your head, or the feeling that you'd be better off dead. I can give you four pills, one to help your dick up, one for the dizzy spells, two more to ease the chills. So what if you are underemployed, or hardly like the company of those who you once enjoyed, you can still beat off, and stand up in the breadline.

Only I can do a double bypass.

Did you ever have something so great that you could not hold onto. You search to replace it, you find a way to and you squeeze even tighter to hold on to the replacement only for it to slip through even faster. Each time you try again it becomes harder to hold onto. Pretty much everything you hold onto begins to have the feeling of Crisco to it. Then you are just left with slick empty hands.

No good for heart surgery.

I try to wash my hands of the whole thing. There unfortunately is blood in the water.

Our Normalcy Bias

I woke up sick. The head on my neck was a soaked rag falling apart at the seams trying to cover up a grinding stone. My body is so tired and sore, it worn thin from the previous day and the work of laying still. I rolled onto the shores of my bed as oil, with twice the consistency and half of the attention. Still as damaging. The day before a hurricane, I moved things around in my life with bluster, just trying to make it closer to the mainland and someone who would look me in the eye and smile. Instead, emotions flooded and the citizens fled.

There is a war or two, at least where I use the big guns. I blow things up, watch them blow things up, and then try to rebuild so we can blow things up together. Collaterally speaking, the casualties are low, by comparison. This is our war and not your war, the goals are fuzzy and we cannot begin to consider victory with lips silent or functional. No one can relate but those with nothing in this moment but a battered, empty, and used flak jacket. Don't give me any flak.

I hear shouting in the distance, hushed by the fireworks. There is no hope. There is hope, just not here. I can hope, but it is no change. What is there to believe in? What about the markets? We need some jobs.

The men scurry like ants, carrying grains of sand to build a mound. They do this for no reason of the queen, nor of drone, nor of army ant. They work for that tunnel, and even though it can collapse under foot of that kid and his sticky shoes, they want that to be their own.

When the poison rains down upon them and the landscape is tore asunder the chaos continues. They scatter, and will rebuild, if they can. What value is an ant then? What value in a tunnel? I never once heard an ant scream.

I do not build tunnels, I do not build anything. I just listen for the scream of an ant. Hope that we all wake up better, or at least wake up concerned about what has happened and why it continues to happen.

Disaster is the new normal. 24-hour coverage will continue until someone shuts off the channel. If you wait in the fallout shelter, you will die just the same.

I woke up worse than when I went to bed.

I cut myself on puzzle pieces that would not fit. I hurt my back hanging my head, and my neck by holding my head high. The shoulder from trying to slap that puck too hard, and my ankle was rubbed raw just like my emotions. My heart was inside so I could not survey the damage. I imagine it was like an earthquake in Haiti. Those who lived in there, now live on the rubble in tiny shacks waiting for the rich to care enough to actually give them some tools. It is your misfortune I hear them say.

If the ice melts, we will have more water but fewer beaches. No one cares about the bears or the penguins. Why should they have a place to stand when I have nothing to stand for? They can always live on the continent of garbage.

Maybe the drug addict you love needs to be put on the street, maybe the depression will kill him or at the last second, they will turn towards salvation.

I just tend to think disasters will never happen, because we already live in tornado ally. We shall all get our bailout but can we ever rebuild? As those memories get scattered across the counties I wonder what memories can we make by making another home here.

Disaster is the new normalcy. I seem to have a bias towards it, and you do too. I say fuck anyone who tells you it will change with vague words. There is no wisdom for those who live in a desert and cry of thirst besides leave. If they can leave they might not, if they cannot they will not. We all trade the beach for our lives when the coast falls into the ocean. That will never happen except it already has and will continue. In 2012, it will be worse, as it was in 2000 and it was every time the moon blocked the sun. A moments notice, a disaster, and then it is back to normalcy. Disaster is the new normalcy. Sometimes we have to have a service for the survivors. I would cry for you, if you would survive me too.

Time for a lunch break... eww pimento loaf.

Disaster is the new normal.

Normally I would never let this hurt so much, but the people that understand me are fewer still after the last plague. Swine flu did them in. I hate to see you leave, I hate to have another person not read my words or talk to me with less enthusiasm until they drift away, kidnapped perhaps on some pirate ship. Truth is there are too many things going extinct to worry about the rare species of creature that can put up with all of this and all of me. The sky is falling chicken little but you told us too soon. We developed a normalcy bias, now what do we do?

Chicken Little said, "we must go tell the president!!!" Foxy Loxy said, "dude, fuck that guy he won't do anything but steal from you, that commie bastard."

"Just as well", said Chicken Little, "what is the point now that she left me, and every girl I try to replace her with is flawed. Even worse is the parts where they are better than here are far between, and when I get settled for less it is on these few qualities I build my excitement for. Of course they leave and now I don't even get that.. So the next girl has even more to live up to... I think the last one at least understood me even greater than the first girl I loved..."

"Maybe I should cut my wrists," said Chicken Little.

"If you cannot pull yourself up, then fine. But your parents will be hurt and you will go to hell," Said Foxy Loxy.

"Oh, well, I suppose I should read a book or something."

"Why don't you get a job, you lazy ass. I hear they are looking for construction workers in New Orleans."

"I wonder what is on the internet..."

What a disaster.

Trepidations

I sat in a chair looking for the world to find me again, and got quite mediocre at it.

It was what everyone else was doing, though some more mobile than others. I realized that everyone was hooked, tobacco had nothing upon this. There were those who started with live journal like it was drinking in high school. We all started drinking at MySpace State collage. Indeed, some of us experimented at this college far beyond what could be considered safe while listening to some really crappy bands. Then it seems as if all that experimenting was leading towards making progressively worse decisions, eventually culminating with moving on to the hard stuff.

I speak of course of Facebook and Twitter. Which will be known from now on as crack and meth, respectively. Sure it sounds like a great way to meet new people, yet the people you meet seem so distant, most likely because they are all floating along like you are in your drug crazed newfound existence. None of this is readily apparent to you, because all experiences seem new and heightened. You make excuses, like this is what everyone is doing, and I am just fitting in socially. You try to make it look like it makes you so much wiser and deep. Status updates that sound like song lines, or even worse using song lines as metaphors for existence.

All it takes is a little encouragement, someone likes what you have to say might as well take another hit.

Then you see a response and they pass the needle around, shouldn't have to worry about where this is going...

Before you know it, you are sneaking crack and meth at work, paying big bucks to be able to pick up your phone and get it quick. No big deal, it makes getting through the day easier. However hard you try, it starts to get in the way of your work. Pretty soon, the thought of what is going on with crack and meth consumes your world. Maybe you will take a hit under the table at dinner with your parents, or while your boss is in the other room. Then it comes to the point where your real life relationships become strained by it. Slowly but surely you lose touch with real people, though some check in from time to time, mostly so they can gossip about you and hide it from you. Others seem to be on top of their addictions. She doesn't seem to be abusing meth. Crack makes him interesting. They just do it to get ready for parties. Why is this hitting me so hard, am I somehow broken?

Well, then it gets really bad, and you then go far outside your circle of friends looking for people who can make you feel good again. Shady characters hooked on this stuff themselves share inauthentic. Before long you are strung out and you have nothing to offer the meth/crack heads. You just float along stinking of shame, teeth rotting out behind a new profile picture, incoherent ramblings of impending doom on a virtual street corner, and you become territorial while begging for someone to give you some hint of normalcy through the drug that you still deny is at the root of your problem.

I sit here like I did for so many days since I took up these filthy habits of electronic social medium. Trying to suppress the urge to look to see if anyone noticed I was gone from the corner, to see if taking refuge in a church nearby or dead in a gutter. I sit shaking from withdrawal, I sit fearful about my future. This is the thing about the drug, it will change how you think and feel. The good and the bad will never have the same context again. I sit and wonder what I can salvage, and how long I can stay sober. I just do not want to be tricked again by my eyes. Trepidations.

This new interpretation leads me to think Hall and Oates were evil.

Subconscious turns to machinations. Perceptions just plausible enough for me to deem that not only have these developments manifested to bring aspiration and elation unbound to my tired soul, but that these events are substantial and substantive. I suppose this is why they are called dreams, though it seems more like my brain is teasing ever part of me, rubbing it in that it can reject reality for 20 minutes of REM sleep every morning. Worst yet, my mind has studied well and can postulate that it is far more manageable and devastating to make the tormenting part be when I am awake in bed. Falling dreams are no longer the penultimate of nightmares, dreams where the world opens up and lays at your feet a modest and most welcomed set of achievements marked happiness (paid for with dues) have usurped the mantle. You never hit the ground in dreams, at least experientially, when you wake up it is a different story. Thank God that someone put this mattress here, otherwise this might have hurt a trifle more.

If you see me today, there will be a smile worn on a tired face. Optimism and meditation to drive back the subtle waves on the rocky shores has changed the course of my life. Still looking for the lighthouse, but at least I didn’t nick anything. Soon I will go to sleep again. One-day in-between the daylight and the twilight, there shall be my face staring back at me mischievously. I am going to slap that sunnavabitch right across the cheek. For if my dreams turn to putting nightmares on the precipice of my new days, I will just steal the aspirations and sanguineness from deep within. It is far too sunny and warm outside for it to stay inside.

I know my mind has taken notice, someday you will too…

Chicago, never bleed red forever.

I am quite upset with the number of "hockey fans" in the area are rooting for Chicago in these Stanley Cup finals. Never mind the fact that Pronger is on this Flyers team, or that Philly fans have the fans behaving badly market cornered. You cannot root for Chicago if you are a Wings fan, not only for our past but for modern day dealings with the team.

Does no one hold reverent the fact that they are our rivals? Does no one in Michigan draw ire when their crowds chant Detroit sucks? DOES NO SON OR DAUGHTER OF BLUE COLLAR SWEAT AND TOIL WANT MISERY FOR HOSSA FOR WEARING OUR COLORS BUT NOT BLEEDING THEM!!! To those raised in the moraines, by the factory stacks, on the shores, or any who actually care about Hockey in its purest form and of its roots, do not root for Chicago. Even if you have enjoyed their majestic city and their hospitality whilst collecting your tourist money, root not for Chicago not on ice, for they would not do the same for you.

We have rebuilt their city with our timber, we have built the cars that travel all the roads that lead through Chicago, and we have all pulled for their Cubs to be freed from embarrassment as we would for the Lions. They would not even undo the selfish acts that threaten the lively hood of our lakes with Asian carp and various invasive species, and still there are amongst us those that root for their success. When it comes to our histories, we have ebbed and flowed with them in importance and glory, to which they have emerged superior for now. Yet ON ICE, we SHALL NEVER YIELD TO THESE HAWKS!!! 11 is greater than 3, and even with the leagues desire to see that number grow to four we shall out number them in all aspects of the game. As they try to steal our system, our players, our management, and our success, they cannot steal our sportsmanship, honor, and glory.

Most of all we shall out number them in class, as we never chant Chicago sucks. Class is important to me, and our organization is rich as such. Class is not an issue here, we true fans of the house Howe built, we who know Ted Lindsay was a true MVP, and we who know that while many might wear the C or 19 only one man can be called Captain, we know Chicago is not our friend. Hossa deserves no cup, Kane punches cabbies over 60 cents, and Toewes can NEVER be Yzerman, we know not to root for those Blackhawks.

Indeed, we know that there is NO ONE that they shall play to make us root for them to win Le Coup de Stanley, except Sidney Crybaby, of course. You have been schooled, and if you doubt me, go ask Dr. Cox. The Second City is no Hockeytown, let them stick to blowing Winds and meatpacking. There are those who try to argue this with me, and I say what would your grandfather think assuming he enjoyed hockey. What would your father think? What would you think if you watched the last twenty years of Red Wings hockey without being fair-weathered? The answer is that for someone that Detroit does not suck, nor does Chicago. I do not expect them to root for us, and I do not expect you to root for them.

If you don't believe me

http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://justinharger.com/images/Detroit%2520Sucks.jpg&imgrefurl=http://statestreetsports.wordpress.com/2010/03/10/detroit-sucks/&usg=__OsFBcvnRuzwn-DE251EeIfIHyF4=&h=600&w=800&sz=143&hl=en&start=1&um=1&itbs=1&tbnid=XntNcBNyHJMd6M:&tbnh=107&tbnw=143&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dblackhawks%2BDetroit%2Bsucks%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26tbs%3Disch:1

Memorial Day Redux.

I remember a time and place when the winds blew and the thunder pounded. The skies darkened and opened up their souls upon the merriment of the humans. I sat there in the rain and shivered. Join me now in that memory, put yourself in my thoughts. Return to the crashes and heavy droplets. Let me stand with a brave woman and see if lightning can strike again. Be my rod, then would all truly be divining.

Hatred is a simple rude statement out of misunderstanding.

I tend to do the wrong thing, but only in social means. The advice of a friend once given to me makes me ill, “…never try to fix things immediately, and never talk to anyone every day.” If we are social animals, then I am most assuredly the wretched and lowly scavenger. I go out each day for whatever I can find of social feed. I often get an upset stomach from it, as I imagine a raccoon would. I however transform into a bear with a honey pot when I find conversation as sweet, sitting quite contently in a single spot with my snout messy in the thick of things.

I find it odd that I am not the one to get sick from such a life style. Indeed, it is almost exclusively others who find themselves without the stomach for it. Perhaps it is some sort of vulgar display in their eyes. However, I continue to gorge myself upon it.

I try to give back to those who provide me the feast, those bashful bees. I am generally a supportive person. Sometimes when you try to hold up an animal and try comfort it, they will bite you out of fear. We are all social animals, and when do not understand something we fear it. I promise that I will not bite for I have removed my fangs. I know when you bite, it is because no one can fathom a man who can talk endlessly at one point, and has nothing to say at another.

Scavengers do not eat everything; I tell you I am thin for a reason. Someday I will eat for years. I hope that until then, all of those bees that allow me to stand central to them whilst they buzz, shall continue to dance for me. I know that conversation leads to many things, and I want more of those things. I want everyone who ever made me laugh, smile, cry, or best of yet left me speechless to continue doing that for the rest of my days.

Thanks to the dandelion, a snowstorm at 85 degrees to reflect my soul.

Thanks to the dandelion, a snowstorm at 85 degrees to reflect my soul.

At the point of eve, I gave up on myself. I wallowed wanting to go to bed, wanting to be in a coma of sleep for years. I sat bruised and skinned, with marks added to injury and emotions causing the most discomfort. I reached out in bed to a former best friend who somewhat skirted the role of conversation partner. I made efforts not to illicit pity and just let it be known that I existed. My eyes watered.

I returned downstairs to sit in front of the computer. I texted another former best friend. No efforts were made to escape the fact that I felt like crap. I wanted to let him know how much I appreciated him and just wanted to walk away at that point, but he made an attempt to redeem me. I talked to another friend who I was trying to make their role expand, giving effort to stay above the water.

I contacted my very best friend in times past, a girl I loved as a cousin and a friend. She had little to offer. I thought she was someone she no longer was. I laid it all out on her and she made little effort to empathize and offered very little in consolation. Yet it still felt more genuine than any other. Our talk was short and I confided that I missed her greatly.

I made a comment on Facebook. It was about the interconnection of the problems of others, and I made no effort to bring my woes up. “I want to say a prayer for an old friend who needs it, and a new friend who wants it. A prayer for someone who isn't a friend any more and a prayer for someone who might end up being a friend. All to be given a path to better days.” I didn’t want an old friend to die. I didn’t want my confidant and religious supporter to lose faith in what she believed because I needed to draw upon her kindness so much. I didn’t want someone I loved who didn’t talk to me to hurt anymore. I didn’t want someone who I could see my fondness grow, to take the abruptness that contributed to my sadness and throw out what connected us. I also didn’t want her to be sad, even if that meant she went ahead and got rid of our opportunity to be friends in lieu of the love she lost.

I wanted them all to be happy. Mike would say that no one would believe that this is true, that someone could selflessly want others to be happy. More than one of those folks ignored my attempts to wish them well. I hoped he was wrong.

In the morning, I woke up in a sweat. I could not control my dreams in the lucid morning, so I woke up. I spoke to someone a week prior that I never have sex dreams. That morning I had one that was strong, and I forced myself to wake as if it was scary. I was actually upset in my dream about my conscious desire to be with one girl. I felt guilty and ashamed just the same as if I were to look at a girl and think dirty thoughts about her in amidst a depression over wanting to be loved.

Ironically, I awoke to think about dreams in a different sense of the word. Could not control these dreams when I am awake either, at least they move slower. Every effort was turned to surviving. Eventually I was able to join up with friends for some bullshitting. That led to a bar run with another set of friends from years past and more bullshitting, which lead to me seeing two cousins and more bullshitting.

I was pretty happy for that moment.

There was a girl who joined us who was with one of the guys there for many years, and they broke up. That and the other aspects of her life overwhelmed her. The tears were familiar, but she said softly. “I was in love with him, and I will likely remain so for a year.” I thought about a year from now, what would find her? I thought about what would find me. A girl worth her weight in gold, might have to wait for a year as well and might still be hung up, will she give anyone that chance? What about the girl that refuses to be in love? Will she ever feel that pain, or will she hide inside of her current pain?

Life is Messy. That was a brutal way to say a true statement and tell someone to buzz off. I don’t want to make anything messy, but if I want to stay alive, I might eventually have to. Until I find someone who wants to clean up with me, I will hold my mess together with my magnet. I seem to have myself on board, but when can I become persuasive. Without the tongue of the sophist, will my feelings ever be accepted as fact? I haven’t played the drums in weeks, my heart doesn’t play the beat to drive my feet.

Yet I prayed, and in some fashion, all of the parts were answered. Much like an injury, those people will never be 100% again. We never will be 100%. I just hope all the people I have held in my brain with esteem will at least get to above average. I will always love, just like I will always cry, just like I will always worry, just like I will always over think, and just like how I will always believe I could do better. Let us all do better.