Returnedness, Withoutitude, Float On

The holidays are almost over and I am especially happy for that. I'm back in California, and it’s weird to not feel cold wind on my face. I made it through to the other side of Christmas in the same bat-house with all my nutty relatives and it was not unpleasant. I was worried when I left that this trip would be tough for me.

The last time I went home it was, well, difficult. I was 18 years old. Recently flunked out of school. Had no place to stay and as happy as everyone was to see me they weren't exactly thrilled at the prospect of me moving back in. I had been living alone for the better part of a year so I had acquired habits that I had to surpress in order to fit back into the old framework and mold of how the machine of my family automates, and that was frustrating and angst-ridden.

No more staying out till all hours of the night. No more spiking every drink I have in the fridge. No more bringing back random girls to make out with on the sofa. No more getting away with one meal a day and weighing a measly 129 lbs. No more sad smoky Pink Floyd sob sessions at three in the morning. No more masturbating with the door open. No more 3 hour phone calls to girls I'd just barely met. No more long therapeutic weekend cathartic showers. No more stumbling into bed whilst reeking of cigarettes and spilled drinks. No more playing twister with your imaginary roomate on ecstasy. No more not thinking about your family except the one day of week when you call them up and lie to them about everything being fine.

Didn’t have a lot to keep me hanging on. By the end of it I was spending significant portions of every day sitting for hours watching Entertainment Tonight and playing with “Busy Beetles,” a neverending puzzle of Escherlike interlocking plastic insects.

So I was basically half batshit.

I’m glad to report that that did not happen this time around. For one thing, I’m older now and a bit calmer. For another, I've been successful lately and have only good things to report. Third: booze helps.

All the worries about being back home have been replaced by other more surface worries, like 'what I am going to eat tonight' and 'which girl am I going to take out on New Years Eve', and 'what exactly my ex-girlfriend was thinking in showing up at my house while I was home and my family was opening gifts from my new girlfriend', and 'why do I snigger whenever I hear or smell chestnuts roasting on an open fire'?

It might sound like I’m being flippant from where you’re sitting in your comfortable computer chairs with your pants down, but I assure you, these are actual worries I have now. I worry about these things with about as much vigor as you might worry about things like “What is going to happen to me?” and/or “How am I gonna pay for this knee surgery?” I’m serious. I worry about those things. I’m all caught up in minor logistics.

And with that, I'll fade away. These blog entries are like waves on the ocean. They billow in and carry you along for a little while but before you know it they vanish into the surrounding sea and you can't distinguish where they were or how they are any different from any of the other waves on all sides.

The holidays are almost over and I am grateful for that. I'll wish you a black and white new years. May the world around you be clear and ellucidated, and may you never know the painful burden of living life under a mask.

meh. whatcha gonna do.

meh.
whatcha gunna do about it.

Dear Santa,
I wud like a kool toy space ranjur for Xmas. Iv ben a good boy all yeer.
YeR FreND,
BiLLy

 

Dear Billy,
Nice spelling. You’re on your way to being a career lawn care specialist.
Why don’t I send you a fucking book so you can learn to read and write? I’m giving your older brother the Space Ranger, least HE can spell!
Santa

 

I’ve got a lot of problems that creap up on me this time of year. Like Sandpeople. They hide their numbers. Some people’s problems march side to side. My problems always walk single file. To hide their numbers.

No but seriously, Christmas is so emotionally intense. For instance: I feel so bad asking for things for Christmas. Like, guitly. Lazy. Anything worth having is usually worth working for.

SliceOGringo: teach a man to fish

he will fish the river dry

teach a man to hunt...

DMsqdMn17: He'll get shot by Dick Cheney

And most of the presents you get are such a waste of time and space. The shopping. The stress. The gifts people don't want. The packaging. Remember, when we are all gone from this world, all that will be left is stryofoam.

BRAINISGOINGTOEXPLODE!

Ok, I need to chill out a lil bit. What cures one ounce of Christmas Shopping? Spiked Eggnog Saturday Nightouts!

This is all just jibberish anyhow. Try not to think too hard about it.

Have yourself a Morlock Little Christmas. -DMM

Potent Potables and the deffensive offenses of the offensive potentate

Guess who's back.
Back again.
Masq'd Manz back.
Tell a friend.

Happy Holidays, Dammit

It's nice having a blog to come home to at the end of a long week of Narcotics Anonymous Meetings.

Everyone should have a blog. I'm glad I do. Maybe sometime in the future when I decide to take a trip down memory lane, I'll have this to amuse me. As for right now however, I cant' remember Shit (CRS)

those brownies reck me so bad....its so good

If you ARE going to NA you probably HAFTA go to NA and so under normal circumstances the guys you get there are a pretty reticent curmudgeonly crew. To get people talkin it sometimes helps to have food so most of our meetings we have a signup for the regulars to bring a little sump'in sump'n for snacks. This week was my week so I made me some brownies

Ain't I special?
Not as special as dem brownies!
woooooweeee were those fuggers yappin last night. My brownies were a hit. A sensation! The smash of the summer!! err winter.

Right. it's almost christmas and I'm alone. again.
K, I'ma get off my Eeyore and get to bloggin. Gotta remember da good times before dey's ovah.
Right after I take a shit.
I gotta shit like a racehorse. err. whatever.

In summary:
Get a blog=-their tiiiiight
TALK TO ME CUS IM HYPER//BOERRD.
Eat more Brownies

love, peace, and chicken grease

-DMM

me brain be mush

Every day’s the same
Pray to write it down
But of late my words won’t play
Afraid I’ve lost the game

The love-induced infection of loquaciousness in my blogs has turned into a jittery tight-lipped fever, a whirlwind delirium I cannot control. A hamster wheel of frantic, pointless activity. Writers Block, my friends. Writers, for the block. Procrastination steals, passes to Obstinate Denial, he shoots, HE SCORES! DMM loses the game. And the crowd goes wild away.

Who will read the words I do not write?

What becomes of a poem that never existed?

. . .A vacant epithet to emptiness, stone pillars left uncarved, standing testament to nothing. Milky rains bleach expressionless cemetery. Tremoring oaths painted in sun shadows shimmer, the naked hill, chapel bells ringing.
. . .Beneath the behemoth saintly tower, rabbits chasing rabbits round the churchstone steps, run retreating into primal dens of dirt that quiver tremulously with each dull diatonic decibel.

. . .Hollow chimes resound deep within the earth, a cross emblazoned high across the sky, each tiny beast huddled in the crumbling mire, stealing away heaping helpings of nothing but fright, in the darknesses below.

Blog #195 in which Reality is Questioned, Nothing is Real, Resolutions are eschewed and the Masked Man engages in an adulterous affair with himself

Ya' ever feel like the world is only a visual, boredom and we're all just being strung along for a time until we enter an objective realm that you can see through to now?

Accident
God saw me naked,
sprawled out lying breathless, bleeding
And I'm trying to figure out
If in "Saving My Life"
He merely postponed my death

Had a real conversation with my dad for the first time in months. That was nice.
It was on the phone, so I had a chance to actually get a word in edgewise.
When my Dad catches me on IM its brusque. He's a faster typist than I am. (He went to college)

AuLaJeYo4252: Are you still wearing the mask?
DMsqdMn17: Yeah
AuLaJeYo4252: Talked to your Doctor lately?
DMsqdMn17: No but...
AuLaJeYo4252: Signed up for any classes?
DMsqdMn17: Not yet
AuLaJeYo4252: You need to go back to school.
DMsqdMn17: Okay, see, I think that...
AuLaJeYo4252: You need to go back to school. Bye.
User: AuLaJeYo4252 has logged off.

I'm going to turn into Walter, I know it. Shivering, shelterless heartbroken and alone. Must make strident efforts not to descend to such despicable remorseless depths. Must compile an account of progresses and shortcomings.
A "Year in Review" as it were. Then finalize some New Years Resolutions.

NEW YEARS!

Not sure what to do this year. I'm thinking something with midgets. Suggestions?
Pimps at Sea. Yarr.

Hopefully New Years Eve won't be too cold here. Did you know when the thermometer reads 50 degrees, it isn't really 50 degrees? Molecules in the air are, at all times, operating at a wide range of temperatures! The thermometer will register 50 degrees only when the weighed average of all adjacent molecules is 50 degrees, even though heat is constantly transferring between them.
I learned that after reading an article in the International Breastfeeding Journal.
What was I doing reading that????

Mind your own business! I wear a mask for a reason you know.
Sometimes we all just need to be left alone.

Maybe I'll hang out alone on New Years!
That would be a "great idea!"
Also: ANGRY MUSLIMS! Go Jihad my cat! (He peed on the freakin' floor again last night.) ANOTHER "GREAT IDEA!!" HOly Shit. Somebody slap me! I'm on a roll wid da "great ideas!" Gotta stop having "great ideas"...!

In my infinite wisdom, I decided that being a smartass was a wiser decision than running the risk of sounding corny and sentimental.
Note to self: a good bit of sentiment is a large quotient of the human spectrum. Play it up, or deal yourself out.

Ever stay up waiting for the sun and think, in the cusp of its emergence over the horizen, that instead what will crest i s a great and vacuous black hole? Like, waiting for the milk to pour out of the pitcher, but instead being sucked in!

The Imminent collapse of everything is always just over the horizon but so far the sun always comes up instead.

A light head hits heavy things: Loss

out of auspicious succulences we fall
as days go, and they fall fast in this life,
this nation, this terminus in history,
this spiny sullen habitually vain man,
our dive is marked by shrieks

Head hitting rock. Rattling
menacing, braying. Death's clamour

leaves nothing From everything

only the child love noises and

open air, like in the holy land

when even now, already the wind

is blowing dry dust away
where soft flowers once grew

Two-part Blogbardment (setting villages afire from the air with incendiary euphenisms)

part one of this blog:

In every object there is inexhaustible meaning -Carlyle

It is glorious and charitably unDecemberish outside, which I find simultaneously egregious for the sake of upholding Holiday cheer but manifestly delightly for the sheer joy of being able to call my Dad singing "Na na na na na, I don't have to shovel snow in the morning!"

Everyone here is falling in love, I guess it is the combination of the outdoors beauty, the approaching Christmastime and the unique experience of living in a world that I create in my head, since I assign meaning to what I see for the purpose of clarifying and microscoping the macroscopic world in a series of forms functions and coincidences that my mortal mind can conceivably comprehend.

My mind.
i change it like i change my underwear
Infrequently, when it needs to be done.

Lately I have been dreaming a lot. And yes, the dreams have been kind of weird,
but aren't dreams always weird? Also, had Deja Vu from a dream I dreamt almost a year ago. Sitting at my computer looking at porn and I thought "Wow, I have dreamt of this exact webpage, looking at this exact piece of porn". Kind of troubling and Odd, but at least I know that my subconcious digs the same kind of girls as I do.

NAKED ones.
Wow. Really obsessing over the naked chicks on here a lot lately.
Ladies, if you're offended by this, please send a message to my secretary.

part one of this blog, will commence shortly. In themasquedmeantime:

Entre la balanza y la oscuridad:

So, I FINALLY got offered a job (contract to permanent) in an area nearby that's easily accessible by public transit, making as much money as I was making before Morocco, and the party Friday celebrating my newfound security was followed the next night by a party commemorating the loss of my freedom.

Why is it we must always give up a little freedom for the sake of security?

ThenatthebookstoreYesterday IsawalittleBook peekingoutatMe. Thetitlewas "50 jobs worse than yours" and I found thumbing through both amusingly and uplifting.

crappy job # 26: maggot handler

crappy job # 27: clerk at a porn store

crappy job # 28: temp

[How about] An Ode du stinky jobs. {Think sewage consultant, only with lyrical hush.}

We're all free you know. You, me, and CRZ. And yet we are under a quotidian tyranny. Daily life conspires to suppress us into the stale basement of conformity. And so I note, that everyone is falling in love. And I have a job. A slow, gentle plummet towards winter break. Nothing like acknowledging the crippling tether of constraint and feasibility to make the holiday season appropriately dismal.

the conclusion to part one of this blog:

I'm caught in the grip of the city, and everywhere in the city reminds me of you

Random Erik's Uncle Quote of the Day: ukeepsmile56: u lika micheal Jordann ?


And that's it for me.

-D'Masqued (Pieces of Porn would be a good band name) Man

*sticks fingers in ears* I can't hear you! La la la la la Fa la la la la