Anti abandons the internet.

it's finally over, thank fucking god.

Monday, September 19, 2005

 
my dad wrote me a letter, and sent it to my mom's house. included in the letter was a Cashier's Check for $2,000.00 USD (roughly what the laptops he leased on my name cost) here is the letter transcribed:

Dear Johnny,

Here is a check that i realize is a small token toward the greif and misery i caused you by screwing up your credit report and history by using your social security number instead of mine.

Johnny, i failed to protect you, my son, then and even after the fact when you brought it to my attention, i failed you again by not repairing the situation with the laptop leasing company, and the collection agency.

i made a serious mistake that i know caused you greif and harmed yyour good credit standing. i blamed other people for the problem occuring and absolved myself from any wrong doing or responsibility, when it was in fact my fault that it happened at all. i'm so sorry that i didn't fix the problem after you reported it to me.

i have no good excuse or defense for letting you down and hurting you.

this should have never happened to you. as your father i will live with this mistake on my part forever.

Johnny, i truly pray for your forgiveness.

No matter what losses i have incurred in the last few years, the loss of our relationship hurts the most.

Johnny, i love you dearly. I am asking for a chance to earn your trust again and earn your respect again.

i promise you that i will never disappoint you again. my heart is heavy with sadness without you in my life.

i miss you very much, Love dad.

and he puts down his cell phone number. and you want to know what i'm going to do?? i'm going to call him, and i'm going to forgive him, and i'm going to cash this fucking check... maybe i'll buy some stock in Sirius Sattellite with the dough...

and the reason i've chosen to forgive my dad after all these years, is because i've been taught recently the importance of forgiving someone. EVEN WHEN THEY DON'T DESERVE IT.

especially someone you love.


Thursday, September 15, 2005

 
i'd like to give the world an explanation of why this is my last post forever. but that sounds so boring. just know that i won't miss a single soul. NOT A ONE, because i hate you all. you fucking suck.

and approaching my third solid year of writing everyday in this peice of shit has been... umm... a blast? whatever. figure it out without me from now on. and look for my name in your favorite magazine trying to be a freelance writer hack.

the internet was, is, and always will be... FOR LOSERS.

ps. please delete me from your blog roll. have a nice life.


Saturday, September 10, 2005

 

i simply HATE having daddy issues. i mean, aren't chicks supposed to be the ones with daddy issues? And yet, here i am... the years since my dad and i last spoke piling up faster than i ever imagined.

day to day, i don't even think about it, or about HIM. i can go a whole month without thinking about my dad. And i'm doing fine without him. i have clothes on my back, and a roof over my head. THATS ALREADY more than he ever thought possible without his help. IN YOUR FACE DAD!

And now all this. my mom stirred up the pot by contacting him, and my dad wants to "repair" his relationship with me.

i will tell you what my sisters have aggreed to already: Julie said, "thanks, but no thanks." ginger said, "maybe when im less busy" and carrie said, "let's do lunch, how's saturday sound?"

i thought about the terms i would present to my dad, and about what it would take for me to forgive him. the first idea was money, because he financially screwed me... and YES money would have to play a part in his "apology". but making it ONLY about money sort of implies my forgiveness is for sale. and it IS. but only half for sale, because it wouldn't be enough.

i need more from him than just $$$.

i think what i want from him, He is incapable of giving to me.... sad but true.

i want a REAL APOLOGY. i want him to admit that it was HIM that screwed me over, and not pass the buck or scapegoat. i want to hear him say to my face, "yes i fucked you over, and im really sorry about it. can you forgive me?" is that so FUCKING hard?

and i think that it might just be that. TOO HARD FOR HIM. we're talking about a man with an ego that is astronomical in size. he even makes MY ego look small!

i guess my mom has since told him my terms, and he said he would mail me a check for whatever amount i wanted... along with a letter he wants to write to me. IF I HAVE TO READ A LETTER FROM HIS LYING ASS then no thanks. i don't care if the check is for 20 thousand dollars. it's not worth it.

that wasn't all he said either, i guess he still was playing up the whole "im broke" lie. (how broke could he be? he has floor seats at the staples center for the clippers games, he drives a BMW, he lives on the strand in manhattan beach...) and along with the broke lie, he tried to back peddle and justify how he screwed me over. to me... that means nothing's changed in his head, and my fantasy of a REAL APOLOGY is as realistic as wishing i super powers.

SO HEY DAD, are you reading this??? my answer is "NO THANKS, OLD MAN." because i can't see myself sitting across a dinner table from you WITHOUT the compulsion to spit in your face. YOU told mom that you hoped times haven't been "too tough" for me??? gee thanks, your thoughtfulness is overwhelming. NO, it wasn't completely humiliating to beg strangers for money, and no dealing with OTHER PEOPLES bankruptcies is great fun for a man in his young twenties trying to build his life.

maybe you should have thought about all this shit before you disowned me, Do you get it yet, OLD MAN??? you lost me. and you're gonna have to work a hell of a lot harder to get me back, because from where im sitting... YOU'RE THE NEEDY ONE!!! hahahahah.

im sorry that wifey #6 divorced you. mebbe it's time to find #7 and leave your ex-family alone.

i hope this post gets a shit ton of comments!!!


Friday, September 09, 2005

 
hey what's up dudes? i just rolled into the house, getting off a long day of driving my car around, and boy does it feel good to have ripped my shirt off. i somehow picked the shirt with the itchy collar, it was hell. i know... poor me. wahwah.

i'm just now using my feet to slide of my shoes, and using my elongated figer-like toes to peel off the socks. damn man. have i meantioned i love being barefoot yet? i think i have, but it's worth repeating.

dad update: my mother took it upon herself to contact my estranged father and urged him to repair his relationship with his four children. this could get intresting... i'll write about this very selectively, because he might even be reading right now... but i'll say this much, i have a lot of vitrol to spew still. i hope he can handle it.

anyways, it's friday, so go back / jack / do it again.


Thursday, September 08, 2005

 

here's my entry to the tony pierce book cover contest. don't you wish you had skills like mine? yeah i know.


 
thankfully as human beings we don't remember pain. WE FORGET. the proof is people with multiple tattoos, and mothers with more than one child.

mostly its not so bad, man. i mean you gotta bite the bullet on things you want, right? can't get rid of that fat ass unless you feel the burn. can get inked unless you (again) feel the burn. the wrist was hell. Same with the crease near my elbow.

when i cough really hard from a bong hit... i can feel this open wound pulse and want to rip open. nice.

i'm gonna go swallow pain pills and wait for them to kick in. nite nite.


Wednesday, September 07, 2005

 
know your role. just KNOW it, and be it, and do it.

everything in your life holds hands and when there is a dysfunction undealt with... it's the same as leaving an open infested wound on your leg.

your entire life and every aspect of it are connected like a chain link fence, and if you have a whole in your fence malicious spyware could creep in and infect your system.

for instance, if your apartment is a shit hole, and always messy... it reflects disorder in your mind.

or what if you were an upstanding citizen, and a financial SUCCESS, but you seemed to repulse women... you would be empty, and a hooker isn't always fullfilling when it's your only option.

i love everyone, except all of you pinheads.

i will be the first to point out that i haven't a clue about what im talking about half the time. i just get stoned, and try and stay smiling as often as i can, and perhaps that's all i need to know. either way it's very dope to get an email like i got from funky fresh freddy. anytime you wanna meet up man, i'll buy the first round. because fuck it, beer on the pier is what im all about.

god doesn't help those who help themselves. that's just the rich people's way of not feelign bad about stepping over a suffering starving person in need. god helps those who help themselves??? so what then... the helpless are destined to rot in hell?? why would a god create so much humanity and culture just to destroy it for not being "rich enough to leave" i think i feel the ground shaking, and tony pierce is my source for all things katrina. props to you tone-loco.

sometimes in my life, and in my friends lives... good and bad are dealt with equal force. for every raise at work there's more car repair that's needed. if you win a lottery scratcher, that same day you'll get a parking ticket. life just likes balance, or maybe the gods dont want us to ever be too happy, because... i derno. they be crazy.

i set my expectations high for myself, but im prepared for the world to fail me, because it has and it will many times over. all i got is me my hammer and my truck, and im coming swinging/honking/screaming/screeching to an intersection near you soon.

i have to get up now to put out that incense, it's giving me a head ache.


 

wet hair.
a film.

Tuesday, September 06, 2005

 
im just a savy traveller, path inhabitor...

life is good when you can pump up the slow jams on your radio, and see the world from behind blue blocker lens on a sunny day, driving under the speed limit and not caring... in fact... wishing that you could go slower. DRAG this shit out.

sometimes when i feel like that i do a few laps around the block just to stay in my car... perhaps there's a badass jam on the radio that i can't give up on yet.

whatever.

i have a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other, just like the rest of you. and sometimes it's a draw, or sometimes the angel is whipped and hog tied, but regardless... life's too short not to be barefoot as often as possible. my favorite health teacher from El Camino College taught me that, and i think it's genius.

it's like when i get ready for a long flight on an airplane of a long road trip... i put on my sweat pants and my softest tee shirt because i want to be able to get as comfortable as possible, MAKES SENSE, RIGHT? but i always end up wondering why everyone (including me) doesn't apply this fashion philosophy to everything... like consctruction workers should be all wearing velvet track suits, and orthopedic sandals. Or the heavy set bus driver wearing nothing but his swim trunks. i mean who really cares, as long as the dude's comfy i could give two shits.


 
Look man, no one said life was easy. SO what do you think huffing and puffing is gonna do, except annoy those around you? How would you like it if when YOU NEEDED HELP your friends replied with, "SIGH.... I guess. Ugh."

stop your belly aching and complaining because YES MILK IS SPILLED, all fucking over the place... And complaining doesn't fix a GODDAMNED thing. Be a mover, not a shaker.

be a DO-er. And do it fast, because we're all getting closer to death one second at a time, and soon we will be busy scratching our proverbial ballsack. Because that's true Americana.

part of the science behind a 40 oz. Of malt liquor is... All the beer being on one bottle like that gets warmer faster, requiring the drunk to drink it faster to enjoy the cold refreshing-ness. AND THE RESULT, is that you ingest the beer faster, thusly getting drunker.

I say just use a beer bong, it's faster, and 40 oz bottles are full of gross beer. ew, mickey's.

I think I should become a painter.. And oil based painter? I derno. IN FACT, I may have said this already... Leaving me feeling, like a talker and not a doer. SO, I will go to an art store post haste and whip up something, and see how untalented I REALLY am. Oh hell yeah.

but I might paint something cool, so who knows? The worse case scenario I guess is that I get drunk and paint my carpet. That's not so bad.


Monday, September 05, 2005

 
the painkillers will grab a hold on me soon, and make me a much more pleasant person to be around. SOON. not yet tho. and until then i squint my eyes, and tighten my lips, and try and squeeze the pain out like a turd.

it's not working.

i have plenty of work to do tonight (still) and because mark is just too crazy/incompetent to have as a helper, i commisioned WHITEY to assist me.

the thing with mark is... you can only help a person SO MUCH, before you realize that they don't want help. THEY SAY THEY DO, but they really want to maintain their dysfunctional situations for whatever reason. with mark... i think the more of a loser he makes himself out to be, the more he "punishes" his parents.

but in the end, who's the winner?? certainly not mark. but this is my job, and i'm tired of asking mark, "why did you make that same mistake AGAIN?!" and his only reply being, "sorry."

but oh well. the good news is that i get a new tattoo on wednesday, and i get to help a friend paint an apartment on tuesday. YAY! i love when my days off are action packed and loaded to the gills with ACTIVITY. i'm never bored that way.

ok, south central here i come.


Sunday, September 04, 2005

 

it's after 2am and i'm nice and toasty from all the damn booze i have dricking since sundown.

i'd list off the toxins that are making me fels toxy & nice right now, but whats the use? just know that i advocate non-sobriety.

the world's not fucked, just the people running it are, and man... if i was in charge the only people that would be in jail besides violent offenders, are RACISTS. oh yah, sex crime people maybe too.

donald rumsfeld (for those of you that don't know he's the american dude in charge of the military) is worth over 248 million doolars, and i beg to ask this question... HOW different would his life really be if he was worth 148 million dollars instead?? i argue that he would NOT be affected if 100 million of his assets went to NOLA.

the lakerrs kicked up about 100 thousand dollars in donations... and i ask.. "that's all?"

Manny at the bar know our faces and doesn't make up whip out our ID's to proce we are of legal drinking age. i apprecaite shit like that. it makes repeat business to a shitty bar worth it. i'm not looking for much... but a warm smiley face taking my money for over priced booze makes things less repulsive. OH FO SHO.

i trimmed down my pubic because it was getting to look like a jackson 5 afro from 1976. OBVIOUSLY there has got to be nothing MORE VAIN than trimming your own puhbes while you hover over a toilet to catch the clippings. but man... IT LOOKS GREAT, if i wasn't afraid of scary people (aka secret admirers) i would post a picture of how awesome i look wearing nothing but a sweat sock, a la the red hot chilis.

LOOK MAN, despite all the smiles, bong hits, blow jobs (i wish), and days off... I'M JUST as miserable as the next guy. life is hitty, and i'm no saint. I'M just waiting for fate to catch up with me and deal me it's inevitable wrath.

BRIG IT ON, BITCHES!

but i've thought about the worse case scenarios... and when it BOILS down to it... i'll be aiight.

listen, i'd love to sit here and dribble on about this that and the other, but i have cigarettes to smoke, and weed to finish off. DIP ME in drawn butter, and dry me off with powdered sugar, because this baby needs his precious blanky. because NO MAN is anyting without his blanky. you better axe some-bawdy.


Saturday, September 03, 2005

 
no one comments here anymore. oh well.

just a picture. i think i smile in pictures less often these days. seriousness is the new funny.


Thursday, September 01, 2005

 

don't watch this.
a film.

 

i don't mind taking the long way home, because taking the time to enjoy my drive is priceless.

do you know the feeling you get as you head Due West, and get your first glimpse of the shiney, blindingly brilliant Pacific Ocean. The air is different, your brain lets out steam, and your shoulder muscles let go of all that tension.

GOD DAMN i wish i was out on that oil tanker oat thing, or flying over everything in one of those prop-planes that you can see in the distance.

the palos verdes cliffs, and ventura mountain range cradle your panaromaic view, and make you feel warm and safe here in the los angeles basin.

i don't know how people who live far from the ocean can handle it. maybe THAT'S why so many states in the middle are red. they're red cuz they're PISSED! they need more green, if ya ask me...


 
zipping along in my truck, i barely notice the people that i cut off, tailgate, or generally inconveniance, because HEY MAN, i go tmy own life to live, and i'm worried about the dipshit who cut ME off.

well today, there was some muscle-faced, meathead who was driving like a tool in his topless Jeep Wrangler.

he was going slow, so i changed lanes to go around him, and of course he sped up to not allow me to pass... So i went behind him, and then he slowed down his car again, and pulled over to the side of the road... because he wanted to spit on my car as i flew by.

of course, i didn't know until i saw him spitting, as i drove by staring with a dirty look on my face.

i was sort of thrown off balance because i couldn't even figure out how i pissed this guy off. normally i know it was the honking of my horn, or the slamming of my brakes, or SOMETHING.

BUT the rad part was really that this idiot had to be the world's stupidest spitter. NORMALLY if/when you spit from car to car, you want to hoark your throat, gather all your phlem and lung butter, and spit a solid heavy wad that will land on the other car and leave a big cigarette-tar stain. BUT THIS GUY, he spit like a girl. he did one of those spits that comes out like a sprinkler spray, and he got spit all over himself and his car.

after i got the News Stand where i was headed to buy a magazine... i looked at my car, and the layers of dirt remained un-spitted on. how did me miss my entire truck?

i wish i was more vengeful, i would have done a Uturn and followed him to where ever he was headed, and after he parked i would buy a SodaPop and hose his topless car down.

i hate yuppies and meatheads. they're SO STUPID.


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