Wednesday, December 31, 2008

One thought I'm carrying with me into 2009

There are several, of course. But this one might be the most important. Good things are coming.

“Nothing in the world can take the place of Persistence. Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent. Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not; the world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence and Determination alone are omnipotent. The slogan "Press On" has solved and will always solve the problems of the human race.”

—Calvin Coolidge (1872-1933), 30th U.S. president

Tuesday, December 30, 2008

It was dope all along!

A certain someone used try to pick on me for rocking a super fly Ralph Lauren Polo sweater with a bear on it. Today I found out the same exact sweater in my repertoire turned up in a Kanye West photo shoot from a while back, confirming my fly fashion sense!

They didn't have this when I was a kid!!!

All I can remember is sledding on trash can lids. I give you the Porsche sled...

Sunday, December 21, 2008

Zen and the Art of Happiness

Key thoughts from the best book I've ever read...

"Obey the nature of things, and you will walk freely and undisturbed." - Seng-Ts'an

"Even if it is painful and lonely, associate with worthy companions." -Dogen

"The highest nobility lies in taming your own mind." -Atisha

"Think with the whole body." -Taisen Deshimaru

"My mind is the guiding rein." -Buddha

"Your worst enemy cannot harm you as much as your own thoughts, unguarded. But once mastered, no one can help you as much." - Dhammapada

"If you cannot find the truth right where you are, where else do you expect to find it?" -Dogen

"If you really know how to live, what better way to start the day than with a smile?...Smiling helps you approach the day with gentleness and understanding...Smile with your whole being." -Thich Nhat Hanh

"Every day is a good day." -Ummon

The true man sees what the eyes see, and does not add to it something that is not there. He hears what the ears hear, and does not detect imaginary undertones or overtones. not busy with hidden meanings." - Chuang Tzu

All that we are is the result of what we have thought. It is founded on our thoughts, it is made up of our thoughts." - Dhammapada

Perfection is everywhere if we only choose to recognize it." - Okakura Kakuzo

Friday, December 19, 2008

Bah, humbug.

I turned 27 yesterday to little fanfare. It didn't even feel like a birthday to me. Remember the parties we all used to have as children? We'd invite half of the 3rd grade class. There were balloons, cake, skating, presents; lots of presents. My 27th birthday had none of that - not even a single present. I got a phone call from my mom that lasted all of sixty seconds. That was my birthday: boring, lonely, uneventful. It felt like any other day, and I'm scared Christmas is going to bring more of the same. Growing up I'd always heard adults talk about how the holiday season tends to lose its luster and sparkle as one grows older, but I never believed them. Well, now I do. Decorating is no longer exciting. The presents bore me, the music makes my ears bleed, and the ridiculous movies on network television depress me. I think these days it's the movies that get me the most. We as viewers are shown these near perfect people and all the friends they have, all the family they spend time with, all the exciting days and nights they spend throughout the holiday season. Well, not me. This Christmas, I'll be alone. For the first time ever, my parents have decided to go out of town and visit family. I was semi-excited about this, until I found out I had to work the day after Christmas. So this Christmas, while you're opening presents with family, or cuddled in front of the fire with your boyfriend/girlfriend/husband/wife, just remember how much I hate each and every one of you. That is all.

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Goodbye, 2008.

Never confuse a single defeat with a final defeat. - F. Scott Fitzgerald

Goodbye, 2008. I will not miss you one bit. I think it's safe to say you were the worst year of my life, even with fifteen days left to suffer through. Perhaps I should have waited until January 1st to write this parting letter to you, for you can still impart your wrath upon me over these remaining couple of weeks. You and I got started on the wrong foot, 2008. It should have been clear to me right away that the three hundred and sixty five days we were preparing to spend together would not be pleasant, yet things were hazy. Maybe it was blind ambition on my part, fueled by dwindling youth and a generally positive outlook. After all, with the way your friend 2007 and I left things, my relationship with you couldn't possibly be worse, right?


One would think that being lied to and cheated on and confronting the guilty party about it on one's birthday would be among the worst possible things that one could fall victim to, right? Because that's what your friend 2007 did to me. That's how we left things last December. And then you came into my life like a breathe of fresh air, and brought with you someone new: a beautiful, intelligent, promising young woman with whom to spend my days. You and I were going to get along great it seemed.

Wrong again.

I fell victim at the hands of a whore. Again. I was lied to. Basically cheated on. Left out in the cold and oblivious to what was going on around me. If I didn't know better I'd swear that you and 2007 conspired against me the last couple of years. At least you forced your ill will upon me early on in the year. That way I still had eight plus months left to make the best of a year out of my life. But you weren't done, were you? Oh, no. You were just getting warmed up. Shortly thereafter you left me unemployed for six months, wondering just what in the hell I was going to do with myself and my life, and questioning everything and everyone around me. Thanks a lot, 2008. And to think, you saved your best for last.

You set me up with a pretty good new job near the end of the year, and promised me an extra degree or two, free of charge, at one of the country's most prestigious Universities. You and I were starting to get along. But just before our relationship could reach its peak on December 31st, and the memories of you wouldn't be all bad, you snuck back up and bit me in the ass. Thanks again, 2008. If only I could speak of your latest exploits here. I'm sure everyone would love to know what you did to me at 12:30 in the morning on Thursday, December 10th. It certainly was exciting theatre for me. You even went so far as to ensure that the start of my relationship with 2009 would no doubt get off on the wrong foot. You really out did yourself my friend. So just do me a favor, please. Stay silent and inactive during these last remaining weeks of your life, and I'll keep your name out of my mouth and off of my blog.

Screw you, 2008.

At least I got a novel out of you.

Poignant PostSecret card

Saturday, November 29, 2008

OMG! I have to have this, bitches!

I saw this on High Snobiety and knew I had to have it right away. Peep the tee from fresh clothing line aptly named Fucking Awesome. That's Ralph Lauren on the graphic for those of you who are fashion challenged!

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Perhaps the most poignant PostSecret Card I've Ever Seen

This admittance struck me in such a way that I may have to find a way to work it into my next novel.

Saturday, November 8, 2008

Yeezy does it again, this time with Hype Williams

The video for "Heartless" was produced by filming real people and then Japanese artists painstaking drew over every image. Wow!

Heartless from kwest on Vimeo.

Friday, October 31, 2008

Thursday, October 23, 2008

Ray Lamontagne is a genius!

This song is absolute perfection and brilliance; nothing less. Most of us have all had someone we've loved so much that at times we've wished we could hold them in our arms forever. I've been there twice, names withheld of course. Unfortunately now one of those people is about to get married, and I made so many mistakes with the other that that ship sailed on me as well. At least I'll always have the music...
Thank you, Ray.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Been working on this for a while!

Cover art for my forthcoming novel, Paris in the Morning. I did the whole thing using Microsoft Paint! Click to see it larger!

Sunday, October 12, 2008

I want to be in a movie...

or perhaps a tv show. It's not what you're thinking, I swear. I don't want to be Brad Pitt or anything like that. What I mean is that I actually want to be put into a movie or a television show in the sense that my life would actually be interesting. I want to live within a prime time drama. I want that sort of life. Characters in movies and on television are interesting. They actually have lives. Crazy, unpredictable, sometimes unfathomable lives. Whatever the creator can think up, the character can live through.

Let's face it, life is boring as shit most of the time. But not on screen. Oh no, characters have lives. They have crazy relationships (which always comes with a mind-blowing sex life), tons of friends, the coolest careers, and when they get in trouble, even that is something wild enough to wonder what it would be like to live through. Hell, they even get a soundtrack. What do I have to do to get a soundtrack? I want music fully audible to those around me at all times, and I want it to change depending on my mood. When I'd, I want depressing music. When I'm skydiving, I want some ridiculous old school rock song with a thumping bass beat. When something bad happens, give me some ridiculous symphony.

Hell, I won't even be picky. I don't need some elaborate scenerio ala Lost or Heroes. Just give me lots of cool friends, a good career, and some of those television hotties to choose from when I feel like having a relationship or just a fling. Oh, and throw in some sort of ridiculous adversity that never happens so everyone worries about me and sympathizes and cares about the outcome and how I'm going to overcome it. Sure, I'm faced with adversity in real life, but no one ever seems to care, outside of parents. What I want is an audience. Yeah, that's right, an audience.

I was there for this!!!

B2 Stealth Bomber flyover before the UNC-Notre Dame game yesterday in Chapel Hill:

Friday, October 10, 2008

I'm a little late with this, but M.I.A. is dope!

Many of M.I.A.'s songs deal with tough subjects such as poverty, social injustices, violence, prejudice and war...things she witnessed growing up in her home country of Sri Lanka , where her father was a rebel militant.

Halle Berry: Esquire's Sexiest Woman Alive 2008

This woman has popped out a kid, so I don't want to hear any more excuses from you bitches! Get your asses in shape!

This brings back so many memories!

Wednesday, October 1, 2008

Funeral Insight

I've been wanting to write about this for a while, and figured now was as good of a time as any. I'll go ahead and cut right to the chase. Am I the only one who has thought, and still often thinks, about my own funeral? And I don't mean I think about a fear of dying and being buried and that sort of thing. The types of thoughts I'm referring to involve being about to see one's own funeral.

Sometimes I wish that I could somehow die now only to be able to see my own funeral. I want to know how it would be. Who would be there. Or maybe more significantly, who WOULDN'T be there. What would people say? How would they act? Who would cry genuine tears of loss (Aside from my parents and various family members. They don't count. They're supposed to cry.)?

I guess what I wish I could do is be one of those people on television shows who die and then their ghost watches everyone react and cope with their death. Don't be mistaken, I'm not saying I want to die; only that I wish I could know how people would take it. I suppose that's selfish in some way, but I'm curious. What would it mean to YOU? How would YOU react?

Feel free to post your thoughts. You can do so in complete anonymity if you wish. Or you can be among those who I know visit my site on a daily basis yet never reply.

Pretty Dope! I'm feeling this right now!

Okkervil River: Lost Coastlines

Monday, September 29, 2008

I bet George W. Bush has one of these...

The Abu Graib coffee table...

P**** Power

Raleigh used to be populated by nice southern girls; no more. Lately, this is what you'll come across downtown...

Thursday, September 25, 2008

Fresh line from Andre Benjamin "3000" of Outkast

Anyone who follows hip-hop and/or fashion knows that Benjamin Andre, better known as Andre 3000 of Outkast is one stylish guy. He recently decided to take advantage of that, and premiered the first 70 pieces of his new clothing line aptly dubbed "Benjamin Bixby," naming it after one of his self-proclaimed alter-egos. Andre notes that he drew inspiration for his line from the early days of football, rugby, and dapper, noteworthy gentlemen of the 1930's, such as Carey Grant. Check out some of the pieces below...


Dope Street Artist: Roadsworth

Recently I came across this artist named Roadsworth whose work is done either in chalk or paint and entirely on public streets and sidewalks in Montreal. He was charged with 53 counts of mischief after being caught in the act, but the charges levied ended up being much more lenient after much public outcry, as they should have been. This stuff is dope!

Monday, September 8, 2008

Pandering at its Finest

The past ten days or so have certainly been interesting on the political front. Illinois Senator, and Democratic Presidential candidate for President, gave the closing speech at the Democratic National Convention in Denver, Colorado, in front of almost 90,000 people. His presence, message, and intensity were electrifying. The only thing it could be compared to is Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s speech on the mall in Washington, D.C. forty years to the day before. Bit by by, Senator Obama has gained my respect and subsequent support over the past few months. He is captivating as a speaker, and his ideas are fresh, especially compared to what we've had to suffer through over the past eight years, and will have to continue to suffer through if we elect Senator John McCain.

I hung on Senator Obama's every word that night as he spoke, and as I listened to him, I couldn't help but wonder one thing. What would Dr. King have to say about all this if he were alive today? I wonder if he would have been able to fathom an African American male standing in front of a crowd of supporters so large, accepting his party's nomination for President of the United States of America. He would have been proud, that much is certain. There will be a lot of disappointed people if Senator Obama is not elected November 4th. I think that there is a huge group of people that will be even more disappointed than those that will go into the booth and check his name on the ballot. The group of which I speak is the rest of the world.

Love him or hate him, the rest of the world pretty much loved us when Bill Clinton was President. Then along came a guy named Bush and turned everyone against us. This brings me to Senator McCain. I used to like the guy. He used to have his own set of ideas and was moderate. He brought both parties together for the greater good. Then, almost inexplicably, the guy basically jumped into George Bush's back pocket and started voting with him 92% of the time. Look where that got us. But the thing that completely turned me against Senator McCain happened Friday after Senator Obama's historic speech.

I turn on the television to see that McCain has chosen Alaska Governor Sarah Palin to be his running mate. Wait, who? Exactly. No one knew who this woman was. I can almost guarantee you that the majority of the ultra-conservatives cheering for her last week at the Republican National Convention didn't know who she was just days before. And there they were on national television, cheering for her and chanting her name like she's a deity. What gives? Strategy, that's what (Or as President Bush would say "strategery.").

Of course, all politics is strategy, but excuse my French COME THE FUCK ON YOU STUPID FUCKING AMERICANS! Have you ever heard of pandering? If not, grab a fucking Webster's dictionary and read. From the very beginning of this race the only leg to stand on the conservatives have had has involved discrediting Obama's ability to lead the country because of his thin history in terms of experience. And McCain nominates a woman who has been in office 18 months and governs a state whose polar bear population is larger than its human one? So, let me get this straight Senator. We're supposed to elect you, a guy who has had recurring cancer four times, and allow our nation to be one heart attack away from being led by a woman whose biggest accomplishment is some trophy big game animal hanging on the wall at her house, not to mention she is a member of a group that wants her state to secede from the United States. Really? What was that you said about experience and how that discredits your opponent?

Oh wait, I get it. Sarah Palin has a vagina; also has a pair of breasts as best as I can tell, probably just like the ones Senator Hillary Clinton has. It's brilliant; ingenious Senator. All the polls show you getting your butt handed to you, even before the Democratic National Convention. Then Senator Clinton, former President Clinton, and Senator Obama speak and the nation is captivated, so you pick a woman to run on your ticket as a last resort to have any shot at the White House in two months. Nope, no pandering going on there, no sir, none at all.

Some lightbulb went off in one of your advisor's heads, telling them that if you picked a woman to run with you, you could earn the vote of all the women who supported Senator Clinton and voted for her in the Democratic Primary. Forget the fact that Senator Clinton and Governor Palin have completely opposing views on almost everything. Your ideology is simple: Women will vote for you simply because your running mate is a woman. Way to discredit and effectively dumb down women, Senator. It's as if you thought to yourself, it doesn't matter what a female candidate's views are; her stances don't matter. The only thing that matters is that she's a woman. And because she's a woman, all the women will vote for me...uhh, I mean "us." Are you sure George Bush hasn't invaded your body? I guess you're becoming senile at your age.

Allow me to make this really simple for you ladies who read this blog. If you vote for John McCain in the upcoming election, you're slapping yourself in the face and sending all of womankind right back to the stone age. You might as well erase everything women's rights activists and feminists have fought for over the years. John McCain, or at least his advisors, think you are dumb enough to vote for him just because Sarah Palin is a woman. They think you're dumb enough, no, gullible enough, to step behind the curtain in the voting booth on November 4th and see her name on the ballot, think to yourself "Girl power!" and check the McCain/Palin box. And if you're dumb enough to think that way, well, perhaps you shouldn't be voting at all.

Wednesday, September 3, 2008

Curtain closing? Not quite.

This space looks strange. Unfamiliar. Almost foreign. I suppose that's what happens when you stray from blogging for a while. I logged on to finally put thoughts into something cohesive and put it out in cyberspace for the world to see, and when I did so, this big, blank, white space stared back at me. I sat here twenty minutes at least before figuring out what I wanted to say. Or maybe I knew what I wanted to say but didn't know how to say it. First, a little business...

For those of you who haven't been keeping up, I parted ways with the cutthroat world of banking at the end of May. Even though it's been a struggle since, I stand by what I said at the time about it being the best thing I ever did. Let me tell you about a day at the bank as a commercial lender.

You wake up at the ass crack of dawn. Shower, shave (sometimes), put on a suit and tie, which feels more and more like a noose every day. Stop at Starbuck's and purchase over-priced coffee because it's what all the other corporate lemmings do. Spend half your paycheck commuting to work. Manage a less than enthusiastic "hello" to co-workers you don't give a damn about. Kiss your boss's ass even though he's a prick, most likely because he hasn't gotten laid in years. Hell, with that stomach, he probably hasn't seen his penis in just as long without the help of a mirror. Pretend to care about what is said at meetings. Pretend to do work when you're actually surfing the net all day. Kiss the collective asses of clients and potential clients, who are usually at least twice your age and try to earn their respect and business for the bank, even though you could care less. You're too busy thinking about actually having a life that doesn't involve sitting behind that standard issue desk in that standard issue rolling chair from the discount office supply store gripping that standard issue Bic and pushing papers all day (Hey, anything to save money and pad the CEO's pocket when it's bonus time at the end of the year). You want to be depressed? Spend the majority of your day underneath the glow of God-knows-how-many florescent light bulbs. It's enough to make you want to pack an Uzi in your briefcase and shoot all of them out one morning, right before you pump the chest of the fat man in the office next to you full of lead. You can dream, right? No worries though, his fat ass will probably keel over in the lobby floor from a heart attack on his way to get his 15th Diet Coke of the day. Surf the net some more. Curse the content filters some lemming in IT installed to keep you from looking at anything good. Check the clock. It's 5. Finally. Thank you, Jesus. Stick around another 30 minutes to look like you actually care about your job, then make a bee line for your car. Commute home. Rip off your suit and throw it in the floor. Go do something you actually care about - read, write, meet interesting people, drink a cold beer or a bourbon and water - without the personality-lacking son-of-a-bitches you work with. That is if you have the energy. Go home. Sleep. Wake up. Shit, it's only Tuesday.

Makes you want to sign right up, doesn't it? Trust me when I say a multi-million dollar salary couldn't tempt me into going back to that lifestyle.

So what have I been doing since then? I spent most of June hanging out at local coffee shops downtown, reading anything and everything I could get my hands on, as well as continuing to work on my novel (more on that, shortly), and applying for jobs here and there. I waited a whole month to break the news to my parents that I was unemployed; I just didn't want them to worry. They were a little upset at first, but understood and told me they just wanted me to be happy, regardless of what that involves me doing (as long as it's not too illegal, of course). The upside of unemployment is that you are free to do whatever you want. I think I hit every bar in a 5 mile radius of downtown at least twice during June, which got me to thinking.

As you all know, I had a tendency, in the past, to be shy. I convinced myself that in my next job I'd do something that downright forced me to talk to people. So after all the time I spend in bars, I decided to be a bartender. The money was good from what everyone I talked to had told me. That was merely a bonus. I just wanted to LIKE what I did. I went to the bar school and got training, learned everything there was to know, then found a job at a small bar. Things were fine until I found out how coked up management was. So, three weeks ago, I split. I was unemployed again. I began to panic. Almost fell back into depression. No one knew I wasn't working again. I didn't want to let anyone down. I applied at tons of bars, and got not even a single response in return.

I haven't told anyone this, and I'm not sure why I'm sharing it with all of you, but regardless, I'm sharing. One night last week I was lonely and wanted to go out for a drink. Of my small handful of friends, all were either working, with girlfriends/wives, etc. So I did what I've been doing a lot lately - I went out alone. I went to one of my regular spots downtown, and sat at the end of the bar. I ordered an Old Fashioned, one of my favorite cocktails, and savored it. I thought about life. Where I'd been. Where I was. Where I thought I'd be by now, and how big the chasm in between the two is. Life's funny like that. You can plan all you want but nothing is guaranteed, and few things work out the way we expect or hope for them to. If you asked me early in my college years where I'd be at 26 (almost 27), my response would have included some variation of the following: married or at least engaged to a beautiful young woman, settled, comfortable with a career, maybe even considering buying a house, living in a moderate-sized city. The only one of those things that I accurately predicted was the locale in which I live my life. The rest? Not even close. I think love got me here, love's elusiveness that is. Mistreatment by multiple females (whose names will not me mentioned here) sent me further down a path of depression that my job had already kick started. I've had no success in that arena since.

As I sat there on that bar stool considering everything, full of uncertainty, I began to cry. I threw down a $100 bill for a $6 drink and walked out of the bar. If that was the last tip I was ever going to leave, I was going to make sure it was a good one. I passed people on the street on the way to my car. Beautiful people. Girls with expensive silk dresses, handbags and shoes of Italian leather, and their boyfriends in Vineyard Vines or Polo. Girls and guys who go not by their first names, but by their first and middle combined. John Parker something anothers and Mary Catherine whoevers. They turned to watch me walk by, crying, but said not a word, choosing to concern themselves only with themselves. I didn't care; I was leaving that world behind. I'd always been invisible to those kinds of girls anyway, so I doubt my tears were even noticed. I cranked the car and drove through the downtown streets. Ran a couple of red lights just for fun hoping someone would hit me, but if not at the least I'd have another adrenaline rush. Unsuccessful, I parked next to the new RBC Plaza on Fayetteville Street. With the top down, I could stare all the way up to the top, almost 40 floors. Construction was still going on, the building was empty. I figured that maybe there was a way I could get in the building. Maybe I could get to the roof and leave it all behind. Leave my life on the ledge and my body on the sidewalk below. No more pain. No more loneliness. No more worry. No more me. And if the roof wasn't accessible, well then maybe I could get into one of those multi-million dollar condos on the top floors and leap from the balcony. That's the last thing I remember from Friday night, August 29th. I woke up at 5:30 AM, car still parked in the same spot, top still down, dew covering the outside of the car, the interior, and even me. I have no idea how I passed out, as I'd only had a single drink. Maybe it was God's way of sending me a message. As with most things, I guess only time will tell. I looked up at the towering building again before driving off to begin my Saturday with a cup of coffee at Cafe Helios. It cast a long shadow to the west down Hargett Street. I drove in it for a hundred yards or so before the warm sun, which was just coming up, hit me and I thought to myself, maybe I'll take just a little more time to figure things out, the RBC Plaza isn't going anywhere.

Thursday, August 7, 2008

Random, sometimes incoherent thoughts from your favorite bartender

1. I love the new schedule. There's nothing like coming in at 3 or 4 AM with tax free cash in your pocket, knowing you can sleep in as late as you want the next morning and hang out all day and do it again the next night.

2. Bartending is 90% personality, 10% knowledge and technique. If a bar patron comes in and asks for a screaming multiple orgasm up against the wall, and you don't know how to make it, they don't care as long as you smile and ask them just what the hell is in such a concoction. Of course they love it just as much if you can smile, nod and make their drink to perfection with no questions asked and incredibly engineered precision, but the tip will still be the same.

3. Lesbians, as a group, tip better than anyone else; Gay men are a close second, followed by straight men. Straight women are dead last (What else would you expect from a bitch?). My theory on this phenomenon is that they're so used to men fawning over them and falling at their feet, practically begging to pay for whatever they want, that they don't carry much money with them in the event that they actually do have to pay for something. Oh, and flirting with me isn't going to get you served any faster or your French Martini made any quicker. I can see right through that like crotchless panties. Just be cordial and I won't give you a cement mixer.

4. The only exception to my tipping theory is bitches that are coked out of their minds. They tip incredibly well, perhaps because they can't tell the difference between a $1 bill and a $10 bill. It's not like I'm going to point it out to them. This past Saturday night (and the first Sat. night of every month) we have a DJ from NYC come in for a rave. I can't stand the music, but damn the money is good those nights.

5. If the rest of the straight male population wasn't so damned homophobic (no names shall be mentioned) they'd realize how flattering it is to be hit on by a gay man. Of course all that would change if one of them were to come over the bar and plant one on me, but I don't foresee that occuring.

6. One of the most enjoyable things about bartending is being practically the only sober person in the place. This allows for the observation of so many entertaining things...terrible attempts at picking up the opposite sex (This works both ways!)...terrible singing...uncontrollable name it. One dude stumbled up to the bar so drunk Saturday night I had to ask him four times what he wanted because his speech was so slurred. Bud Light sounded like "good night." It didn't help that he was as guido as they come, though not quite as guido as my roommate.

7. The biggest positive to bartending: I don't spend any money at Starbuck's because I sleep in every morning, and I don't spend any money going out drinking because I AM THE BARTENDER.

8. You know the economy is bad when even strippers have business cards. This totally hot goth stripper passed me her business card with her empty martini glass Friday night and told me to come see her for a free lap dance. I'd go, but no doubt this would lead to subsequent lap dances and me spending money I don't have to spend when I can just step my game up a bit and leave the club WITH the stripper, though we all know how that ended up the last time that happened.

9. If any of you can figure out which bar I'm tending right now and come by when I'm working, I'll buy you my Almost Hugely Famous Rum Runner. Good luck.

10. Subject change: My summer league team's fourth kickball game is tonight. By my calculations we're tied for first right now in the standings. Here's to staying sober this time and actually trying.

Thursday, July 31, 2008

This is Brilliant! Gnarls Barkley does it again!

Everyone already knows how dope Gnarls Barkley is and how cutting edge their first album St. Elsewhere was in 2006. Well, in my opinion, they've gone and topped that with the music video for Who's Gonna Save my Soul?

There's not a man out there who can't relate to this scenario, and Gnarls Barkley nailed it. I've never seen a more accurate embodiment of this sort of situation in terms of capturing the true emotion and feeling of it. A few bitches immediately came to mind when I watched this for the first time. I could easily see any of them taking the woman's place in this video. No hard feelings though.

This is art. This is perfection. Sheer genius. Enjoy...

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Where I've been, What I've been doing...

Welcome back boys and girls to my little corner of the web. It's been a couple of weeks. If you're reading this then you've no doubt been wondering what I've been up to. The highlights:

First and foremost, I spent all of last week getting my bartending training at Raleigh's Bartending School. It was a ton of information crammed into a single week. I'm talking techniques, terminology, and most importantly, recipes. How many, you ask. Try 100. I know I'll probably never have to make most of them, but they're worth knowing so I can impress the one nice looking lady who asks for a Bahama Mama or a Pink Lady or an orgasm, or better yet, a screaming multiple orgasm (Rocks glass, ice, Bailey's, Amaretto, Galliano and vodka floated, in case you were wondering). It's sure to get me a big tip if I don't have to look it up in some manual, and, if I'm lucky, the opportunity to give her the real thing later that night (Yes, multiples, and yes, screaming. Ex-girlfriends feel free to back me up on this. That is, if we split on amicable terms, of course. THe rest of you, go away.). So, after learning 100 different drinks, the final test involved making 12 drinks in less than 5 minutes. The 12 required are chosen at random from a stack of index cards by the instructor on the spot, so I had no idea which drinks I'd have to make. I finished, with no mistakes, in 4:42. Practicing I could almost do it in 4 minutes flat, but I panicked a bit on the spot. I doubt this will happen in reality, however.

So, since finishing last Friday, I've been out trying to find a gig downtown, somewhere trendy. I'd ideally like to work at a couple of different places, with completely different atmospheres. Right now I'm trying to get in at one of the nicest restaurants in Raleigh, with the opportunity to make some real cash. I should know more later this week. But I don't want to spend all of my time around snobs, therefore I'm also trying to get in at a place with a more relaxed atmosphere, where I know the regulars names and their drinks.

I'm sure you're wondering, why bartending? Because I think it will be fun, that's why. Sure it's crazy hours, but who said putting on a suit and tie and sitting in an office 8 hours a day Monday through Friday was normal anyway? If it is, I want no part of it. I'll leave that up to the rest of you. Also, I think the opportunity to actually make more money than I did banking is out there. Not to mention the atmosphere is more laid back, and I stand to meet much cooler people.

A few other things...

The writing has been slow for the past couple of weeks. I'm trying to get the job thing squared away first before diving back into the novel. It shall be finished before Christmas though, make no mistake about it.

I just finished reading Truman Capote's In Cold Blood. I recommend it to everyone. Then when you're done, watch the film Capote starring Phillip Seymore Hoffman. Capote was probably the greatest writer of the last hundred years, and this book stands as the defining book of that decade (the 50's).

My summer kickball league got started last Thursday. I've got a lot of cool teammates, and it was fun even though we lost our first game. I did manage to make one play on defense that everyone on both sides agreed was Sportscenter Top Ten play material. You know, if they showed co-ed twenty-somethings kickball league highlights on ESPN. Hell, they show poker, so why not?

The dating situation is unchanged. I'm as single as ever. Here's to hoping a new gig at a new bar will change that quickly. I do however have a story about an older woman, which I could feature in an upcoming post called "When Cougars Attack".

Stay tuned...

Wednesday, July 9, 2008

The Transformation

From this:

To this:

Details soon to come, but I'm sure you get the point.

Wednesday, July 2, 2008


If any of you don't know what PostSecret is, it's a website that anonymously publishes homemade postcards that people send in with a secret on them. There are also several books the website's owner published of the cards too. Last night I saw this one on the site, and it made me cry because I related to it.

Tuesday, July 1, 2008

Beauty vs. Obesity

You may have seen somewhere online or on the news this week the story about Russian model Ruslana Korshunova falling from her 9th floor condo in the Financial District of Manhattan. I say falling, but as of the time of this writing, all signs point to her death being a suicide. I didn't know this beauty; all I know about her is from what I've read. Therefore it would be unfair for me to speculate on the cause of her death. With that said, I'm going to do it anyway. I'll go with two scenarios, either she was on anti-depressants, which ups the odds that a person will commit suicide, or she was high on some drug and decided to fly. Like I said, I really don't know. That is pure speculation on my part. I'm sure toxicology tests will tell the true story.

Anyway, let me get to my real point of this post. It is clear from the picture to the right that Ruslana was a very beautiful young woman. For some women, that would be enough. Beauty, though fleeting, is power for a woman. It is the equivalent of a male having a corner office and the title CEO after his name in the company email directory. Don't believe me? Look at athletes and movie stars. Tiger's wife? Smoking hot. Kobe's wife? Check. Every woman Derek Jeter's ever dated? Check. Everyone knows those guys would marry/date no less than the finest women. Why? Because they can. And would you expect women of such beauty to date/marry lesser men? Of course not. Why? Because they're beautiful, and therefore powerful, they command the most famous, wealthy men. That's just the way it is. Beauty, for women, is simply power in this world.

Now here's the thing that gets me. The way this story was handled was so ridiculous, yet so predictable. When a woman of such beauty dies, no matter the cause of death, it's labeled a tragedy and everyone wants to wax philosophical about the woman, her life, what a shame it is, etc. But when an obese person dies - and that's 280,000 in the United States alone, annually - what are they? They're reduced to a simple statistic. Now I know what you're probably thinking; something like "But Raleigh Bachelor, fat people choose to eat the Asian buffet every day, they chose death." My rebuttal to that is that this beautiful woman chose death too. Even if she had not committed suicide, she probably would have eventually died anyway, and she would have not been the first model to do so. Many of the women in the modeling industry, especially at the highest level starve themselves to be attractive, and do lines of cocaine in the bathroom to stay thin. That kills too, just not as quickly as stepping off a ledge. And why? All in the name of beauty.

People think beautiful people have it easy. To that I say, not so fast. Beautiful people are shoehorned into a mold of who society says they are, just as obese people are. We look at obese people and think to ourselves, put down the fried chicken fatty. But when we look at beautiful people we are in awe, and envy them. Society says beautiful people can't be smart, they can't have opinions that matter, and they have to maintain a social life on par with that of Paris Hilton. They're just supposed to shut up and be beautiful, and smile for the camera. Now, let me be clear, I'm not claiming to be beautiful here, but I would have to assume that being pegged like that and told who you are in this world must be pretty lonely, and can lead to depression. It would not surprise me at all if this young woman took drugs to combat depression and decided she couldn't take being who society said she had to be anymore. Maybe she wanted to be someone else but found that to be too daunting of a task. Maybe she'd been brainwashed into thinking her beauty was all she had.

So I ask you, reader, would you rather be beautiful or obese?

Friday, June 20, 2008

I'm Back, Prepare for Randomness

I'm not sure where I want to start today. I've got so many thoughts on so many varying topics in my head. Let's get some of the simpler, inconsequential thoughts out of the way first, the stuff some of us care about, but doesn't really matter in the long run.

1. Tiger wins the U.S. Open practically on one leg. There's only one word for that: PHENOMENAL. The guy is a freak of nature, a machine. There is no doubt he's the greatest athlete on the face of the planet. No one has ever dominated a sport the way he does. Enjoy it while you can. It's hard to recognize greatness when it's taking place. Society usually doesn't pick up on that sort of thing until the greatness has passed and they decide to write about it in a history book. And for all of you who says he's not an athlete, take a closer look. The guy is such an incredible physical specimen that I have no doubt in my mind he could play cornerback or free safety on Sunday afternoons in the Fall.

2. It was great to see the Celtics take the NBA title. They deserved it; it's been a long time since the days of Larry Legend. It would have been a shame to see Kevin Garnett go out without a title when he retires, ala Karl Malone and Charles Barkley.

3. I'm in love, in love with my writing. Nothing else has ever made me feel so free, so alive, so conscious and aware of the world around me. Nothing. Once one starts writing, one sees things through a completely different set of lenses. I can't fully explain it, I'd simply recommend that each of you pick up a pen and put a few thoughts down on paper, even if it's only a simple journal. It is not as easy as you may think if you've never never written. Writing itself, is easy. Writing well, on the other hand, is difficult. It requires you to come face-to-face with your deepest feelings, and that can be uncomfortable sometimes. Living in a fantasy world and not being willing to come to terms with who you are at your very core is easy. Step out of the comfort zone, I beg of you. You'll be surprised with the results, I promise.

4. The past three and a half weeks have been amazing. Let me break some news to you guys that only a few people know. I've been unemployed since June 1st. And you know what? It's been enlightening. When I walked out of that office that afternoon I felt like the weight of the world was lifted off of my shoulders. In the time since I've been relaxing, writing some of the best material I've ever written, and spent a lot of time at bars and coffee shops conversing with some really interesting people. Now here's the kicker, my parents have NO IDEA I'm not working at the old job right now. So Aunt Jane, you can't say a word. I've got a bigger job in the works right now that should come through early next week if all goes as planned. I didn't want my parents to worry, that's why I didn't tell them. The people who want to hire me called me out of the blue, so that has to be a sign, right? I didn't even apply to the company. And when I went to the interview it was more a case of them asking me to come work for them than me proving myself to them. Is it my dream job? No. That would be getting published and getting a multi-book deal, traveling the country and even the world for book signings. But I think this will do, for now.

5. Speaking of the amazing people I've met these past few weeks, one especially stood out. I was sitting at a Starbucks downtown, reading, minding my own business, when a voice came from over my shoulder: "You know man, it's all fucked up." The voice was older, gruff, sinewy even, like its owner had been around, seen some hard things over the course of many decades. I calmly laid my book down, whipped around to meet the voice's owner. A downtrodden, weathered guy, probably in his mid-to-late 50's stared back at me. His face bore no expression, just a simple gaze in my direction, as if he was awaiting my response. Now, when he said this, it was loud enough to be heard by people at the other surrounding tables, but they all pretended to not hear what the man had said. Granted they were twenty-somethings hiding behind Chanel sunglasses, snobs no doubt, so this didn't surprise me. People need to recognize that we're all the same, we're all in this world together, but that's a different rant for a different time. I looked back at the man, and without hesitation, replied with "I concur." He smiled, and we spend the better part of the next hour discussing our situations, life stories, etc. He talked endlessly about a woman he'd lost thirty years prior, and how he still thought about her, missed her, longed to make things right. He said he'd take that to the grave with him. All I could think while hearing this was I hope when I'm his age I don't have this sort of regret. His pain was very real, I could see it in his eyes. I've already got pain, but his seemed deeper. I can't stand to think that might be me one day. I've got to do something about that, and soon, because if I don't, I could very end up with the pain of that sort of regret. His name was Franklin, and he was a good, honest old man who'd had some bad breaks. I doubt I'll ever see him again, and I doubt he would come across this space here, but Franklin, I just wanted to say thank you. You provided me with valuable life advice, and maybe even enough information to write another novel.

6. So now for a short rant. Dear women, why are you such cold-hearted, cutthroat bitches? If you go out with a guy for an evening and everything seems to go great, and you even kiss him, don't leave him floundering afterward. At least have the decency to return his calls, if only to say "Thanks, I had a great time, but I'm not interested." That's it, that's all I'm asking for. Don't ignore his calls and leave him wondering. it is perhaps the most immature a so-called mature woman can do. It only makes you look trite and conceited. That means you Kristin. Sincerely, Me

7. To those of you who have been very encouraging lately and wholeheartedly believe in my dream, and acknowledge my dedication to the craft of writing, thank you. You words mean more to me than you know, especially because I know they are sincere.

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

Friday, June 13, 2008

The Truth!

"If you're going to try, go all the way. Otherwise, don't even start. This could mean losing girlfriends, wives, relatives, jobs and maybe your mind. It could mean not eating for three or four days. It could mean freezing on a park bench. It could mean jail. It could mean derision. It could mean mockery, isolation. Isolation is the gift. All the others are a test of your endurance; of how much you really want to do it, and you'll do it. Despite rejection and the worst odds, and it will be better than anything else you can imagine. If you're going to try, go all the way. There is no other feeling like that, you'll be alone with the gods and the nights will flame with fire. You will ride life straight to perfect laughter. It's the only good fight there is." -Charles Bukowski

I'm not sure a better piece of advice has ever been given. I'll let you contemplate this for a few days before I right about it. Read it at least twice. It's that good.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Girl of the Week!

Cal track and field star Allison Stokke. This picture needs no words. Enjoy!

Thursday, June 5, 2008

Let's Go!

Your boy's got this thing on lock!

Monday, June 2, 2008

Sex and the Shitty

By now I'm sure you've all heard that the HBO series Sex and the City was made into a full-length feature film and released last weekend. It's no secret who the targeted demographic is for this film: women between the ages of say, 18-35. Sure there are probably a few older women that will go see it as well, but we'll consider them outliers for the purposes of this discussion.

I never saw the show when it was on television, and you'll catch me on stage for drag night at Legends before you find me in the theatre suffering through two plus hours of pure torture. And if you're a male, and you voluntarily see the film, don't mention it to me because I will track you down and give you a good swift punch in the kidney, followed by an even firmer kick to the testicles; just a warning. The only exception to this is guys who go to appease their girlfriends and wives. However, I will have to at the very least see a picture of your girlfriend to give you a free pass. If she is anything less than a solid nine, your kick to the groin is still promised.

Now, let me address why this show is the biggest piece of fantasy propaganda for a young woman that has ever existed. IT"S ONE BIG PSYCHOLOGICAL CLIT RUB, at least for the older female fans. In the words of Rick James, it gives broads "delusions of grandeur." Here's the fantasy: it supports the idea that women will remain sexually attractive to ALPHA MALES well into their forties. Sorry, but it's just not happening. Sure, there are decently attractive women that age that can pull a BETA MALE. But alpha? Please. What are you chicks smoking? At that age, there is no "Mr. Big" in your future, especially when you look like a damned horse (See about picture). I mean come on! When there's a website dedicated to you looking like a horse ( you have no business being on any show that has the word sex in the title, much less be on the show and pull an alpha male. Reality has possibly never been more misconstrued.

One of a woman's biggest fears is aging into sexual invisibility. All SATC does is assuage that fear. It's nothing more than one big "Hey, you've still got it!" affirmation. In real life, "Mr. Big" walks right past any woman that looks like Mr. Ed and starts chatting up the twenty-five year old bartender with the short skirt and breasts on display. I'm not saying it's right, I'm only trying to ground you in reality.

The Belmont Stakes is Saturday. I'll take Big Brown to complete the Triple Crown. Anyone got the odds on Sarah Jessica Parker?

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

Random Thought of the Day...

This tie is starting to feel more like a noose.

Saturday, May 24, 2008

Friday, May 23, 2008

Breaking News!

Athens, Georgia - AP wire reports confirm that The Raleigh Bachelor is in the southern college town of Athens, Georgia to celebrate Memorial Weekend. An Associated Press photographer phoned in to the bureau last night to validate this report, after spotting The Raleigh Bachelor at the downtown Athens bar 8E's with a beautiful woman on his arm. When asked for a comment, The Raleigh Bachelor simply said "As you can see, I've got my mojo back!"

Stay tuned to The Raleigh Bachelor's blog for up to date reports on this breaking news story as it continues to unfold...

Thursday, May 15, 2008

Fork in the Road

We all, at various times in our lives, come to a metaphorical crossroads. Some of these are largely insignificant - what to eat for dinner, for example - while others are potential life-altering decisions that will no doubt bear consequences and outcomes that linger for days, weeks, months, and even years into the future. I'm sure you're wondering why I'm writing this, and you deserve an explanation, no matter how brief or incomplete. I, myself, have arrived at a crossroads. It is to me, as large and significant as can possibly be (without being a matter of life and death of course). Major life-altering decision(s) will be made in the very near future. I'm in the midst of a time that most would associate with the emotions of nervousness, tension, anxiety and fear, among other feelings. Yet here I stand on the precipice, looking out at the world in front of me, the weight of the world on my shoulders, in the face of great uncertainty, and I am unafraid. A tremendous leap of faith will be required soon. That excites me.

More soon, as necessary...

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Lollipop Remix!!!

Check out the link for Ye's remix of Lollipop. He straight killed it! I'm having some trouble with getting the link to post correctly, so just cut and paste into your browswer for now.