I'm a liar, i'm a thief, i'm a cheat.

Brooklyn 1927

Vito walked out of the dark alley unto the street feeling the cold breeze against his skin. It was early December and he wasn't really dressed for the cold but that didn't matter. His father was a stonemason who worked hard but he had six other mouths to feed so Vito didn't really blame him. Still he felt an exhilaration as only a 13 year old could feel. He had made it out, played hookie, gotten out of that damn place that he hated more then anything in the world. He had told the teacher he was going to the bathroom and had slipped past the janitor and the teachers. He was a big kid but he could by stealthy if he needed to. He had done it before with his friends from the neighborhood, broken into rich peoples houses and taking food and sometimes they had taken a few swigs off the bottle in the liquor cabinets. Vito had never much taken to the taste of the booze but after a few swigs it warmed him up nice and they all felt good. Vito reached into his coat and pulled out the folded piece of paper he had obtained at school. He pulled it out slowly and at first he wondered if it was real. He had stolen from Jimmy William's backpack after recess, five dollars. Five fucking dollars Vito thought as he unfolded the crumpled note. It was more money then he had ever held in his hands. He had seen his father with wads of the bills at payday but they were always gone almost as soon as they came in. But now he had one, to spend in any which manner he pleased. He felt powerful like the gangsters he saw who ran the speakeasy on the corner in the neighborhood. They always had plenty of the green bills and they never seemed to run out. 'Crime doesn't pay son.' His father had told him. 'Those are very bad men.' he had said. Still the words went in one ear and out the other. He thought of all the candy he would buy, the soda, maybe even a sirloin steak, he felt like the luckiest kid on earth. Vito had wanted to be like the men on the corner, the ones who never seemed to have a work but always had money, who life seemed to come easy to. He had seen his father bust his ass every day working on projects with little to show for it and he had always vowed that that wouldn't be him. That he would never have to want for anything like that. Vito turned the corner as he noticed the policemen coming down the street. Fuck, he thought avoiding the mans gaze. If they caught him on the street like this he would likely give him a good beating and then send him back to school. The beating he could handle, going back to that damn school he could not. Vito quickly crossed the street narrowly avoiding the model A tearing down the street. Vito was still somewhat unnerved by the massive metal bohemoth's coming down the street. The policemen hadn't noticed him distracted by something else. Vito pondered the rest of his day. Most of the beat cops in the neighborhood knew him so there was only one thing to do, take a trolley downtown.

Now witness, now witness love

I was thinking recently why I would never like to serve in the military. Not the Navy, the Air Force, the Marines or the National guard. Beyond the aspect of getting blown away and showering with other men I can't help but think what a horrible past our nation has. About the trail of tears where thousands of Cherokee and Seminole and creek Indians where forcibly removed from their homelands in the American Southeast and marched to Oklahoma. Of the use of slave labor to build our nation up from the start. And to think that I would be representing a nation capable of such acts, an instrument of its foreign policy is terrifying.

Yup

The story of America is the story of conquest. Of new lands and peoples. Sometimes when reading about this discovery and subsequent conquest of the New World the Native people that lived there are often overlooked. Not ignored entirely but brushed aside. As obstacles to progress. They're fate is acknowledged haphazardly but rarely told for what it was, a genocide. Granted using a modern term for something that happened in the past to sometimes frowned upon anyone who examined the practices and policies the Spanish, the British, and later the Americans would certainly come to the same conclusion. Right now I am reading about the end of the era of resistance among the Indians tribes with the massacre at Wounded knee. The years of the late 1880s had brought despair among the Sioux at Pine ridge agency. A drought had wiped out they're crops and the government had cut they're beef rations. They had once been a self-sufficient people now forced to live on government handouts. The feeling of despair spread across all of the Western Indians on the reservation and a prophet started to emerge. A Paiute Wavoka, had told his followers that if they would dance a dance he had shown them called the 'ghost dance,' that the great spirit would wipe out all the whites and the plains would once again be abundant with buffalo. That family and friends who had died would come back. A compelling message, especially in light of the dire circumstances they faced. But from what I have read about it I think the Indian agents and government officials wanted to provoke an incident. It was Custer's old 7th cavalry that participated in the massacre, and it does not seem to be a stretch to think they wanted revenge for the loss at Little bighorn.

This is real.

Fuck this. Fuck everyone. I really don't know what to do anymore. I want to scream to cry out. But I do not know what to say. To articulate what exactly is the problem with me. What is my major malfunction. Why do the pieces not fit? Exactly what is going on? And I don't know and I damn sure do not want to tell anyone.

The Jedi are extinct their fire has gone out of the universe.

People sometimes do not understand context. Take laws for example. A certain set of law determines weather a minor under 18 can work certain times. For example a 14 year old can't work past ten on a school night. But this law has a context because a little more then a century ago children that age were working fourteen hour shifts. Or things like affirmative action,or equal housing. Not too long ago things like getting a job or a house in a good neighborhood were not always an option for black people. So people who lament 'political correctness' in some ways do not understand the context. How not to long ago it was commonplace for white people to refer to blacks as 'niggers.' How history and events of the past have shaped peoples prospectives.

Slow ride

John O'neil awoke on the floor of his living room the rays of the late afternoon sun rousting him from his sleep. If the state he was in could be called sleep. He got up slowly noticing that he couch was right in front of him and he was somewhere near the coffee-table. It took him a minute for him to get his bearing. The last thing he could consciously remember was entering an establishment with his lawyer Herb. He had already imbibed almost a bottle of scotch before that so the memory was already hazy at best. Something had happened in that establishment that much he was sure as he felt a cup over his right eye. He got up to examine it in the mirror, his clothes were still intact which was good, and his suit was only slightly disheveled. What the fuck happened last night? John thought to himself as he walked over to the liquor cabinet to pour himself a tumbler. It was the only thing that seemed to ever make the headache go away for him anymore. He opened the liquor cabinet and opened the mirror, something he instantly regretted. His personal appearance had gone rapidly downhill in the past month and now he could see it in entirety. In addition to the gash over his eye, which was not as bad as it felt, he had a week old stubble and large dark circles under his eyes. Not to mention his stomach which seemed to get bigger every day. He extracted the bottle of scotch from the cabinet and pour himself a generous shot. What the fuck have I become? He thought as he downed the glass. When he had been a marine in the pacific what felt like ages ago he had trekked miles and miles in the jungle with pounds of equipment on his pack. These days he sometimes had trouble making it from his house to his car. There was trouble looming ahead he knew as he poured another shot. He had been narrowly granted bail after being arrested and charged with labor racketeering and extortion but he knew it wasn't over. The Italians would suspect him and suspicion was all the pretense they needed to make a move. Also John knew his arrest was only the tip of the iceberg, that the hammer was more then likely about to come down on the union and the whole family. They wouldn't get the mob and corruption out of the union entirely but it was likely they would try. Vito had wanted to meet with him today and it was getting late. Fuck John thought. It was an impossible situation. If he met with him it might lead to him getting clipped, if he avoided him it would most certainly result in it.

I'm mad, i'm mad.

I was watching the show 'Gangland' on TV tonight and they were talking about the status of the biker's girlfriend in the gang. In the guidelines of the gang it says that women who are going out with someone in the gang are 'property', and basically goes on further about how they basically treat them like shit. However despite this one of the members said that women flock to them because of the allure, the power, somehow. Despite the fact that they are assholes to them they want to be with them. On another show a young women who is strung out on pills and drinking has a psychotic boyfriend who hits her and breaks down her door one time when he find it is locked. Something seems askew about all of it. Something wrong. Why are us men such assholes? And even more interesting why do women constantly date said assholes? It seems to defy logic and reason. People are fools by and large, sheep. Like when Lincoln got shot on Fords theater and it took the people in the audience a good ten minutes to react and go after John Wilkes Booth. Maybe it was just the pure shock but still. To me the mere fact that he was unguarded in the box to begin with with no real security to speak of in general is amazing. Granted it was the first Presidential assassination in American history but they had to have had some knowledge that there were people who there who wanted Lincoln dead. In fact during that era any person off the streets could come into the White house and gain audience with the president. Strange times that we live in these days.

Iglesias, Iglesias.

In first Lord Of the Rings movies Gandalf goes to confer with Saruman the leader of his order. He assumes that he will give him some kind of advice as to how to handle the problem of the one ring. As they talk Gandalf quickly figures out that Saruman has gone over to the dark side. To Sauron's side. Saruman asks Gandalf to join with him and Sauron to which Gandalf replies 'Tell me friend, when did Saruman the wise abandon reason for madness?'. I have abandoned reason for madness. I have thrown common sense and my own wellbeing aside and put in its stead insanity, and bedlam. Why do I do this? How does this make sense? Fuckin A. Can't even seem to talk to some woman online. Always got to be godamn competition. Nothing ever seems to go quite right.

No redeeming qualities.

'And I can remember after getting my 6th DUI and going to jail and losing my wife and thats really when I hit rock bottom.....' Chuck felt himself dozing off as he listening to the long sad tale that he had heard with some variation for ten years. The same story in AA meetings and later in his work. It was almost as if the whole thing were scripted, some kind of elaborate farce put on for some diabolical purpose. I'm a fraud, Chuck thought quickly gazing up to the clock. He suddenly realized that eyes were on him and he came back from his daze. 'Ok lets good Todd, does anyone else want to share?' 'Wait, what should I do?' Todd asked. 'Do about what?' Chuck waiting to form an answer before another girl chimed in 'What i've is that for my recovery..' He spaced out again. He had been nursing a blistering hangover for the better part of the day. At first it seemed like it had gone away but it seemed to come back in spurts. It was ridiculous he knew him standing here in front of all these people attempting to advise them on their substance abuse problem. He had been there before, and come back, and then gone again. He didn't hit the sauce like he used to but still enough to make him feel unqualified for the job. Still at this point he was skating he knew it all so well and they all seemed to like and respect him. Chuck opened his eyes, the girl was still speaking. They all seemed like shallow husks. People deprived of their drug of choice and the state of mind that accompanied it. She seemed to have been talking for hours, he got out at five and it was only ten past four. The hand on the clock seemed to tick by like when he was a kid in school waiting for it to get out. He knew he could not go on forever. He had already received several dirty looks from some of the nurses and staff when he came in with red eyes, disheveled, looking as if he hadn't slept in days. He would shrug it off saying that he was only 'trying out a new look,' but he knew they knew. Or at least has some idea what was going on. Still his co-workers had always like him and he always figured thats why no one ratted him out. He looked up at the clock 4:56, thank god Chuck thought. 'All right that was a good session.' He said and they started to arise. Shit most of them don't want to be there either, Chuck thought. He walked down the hall as briskly as he could without attracting suspicion. I'm a fraud. It hounded him in his head as he headed out of the building into the parking lot. It hounded him the very moment he woke up in the morning and set foot in the hospital. It haunted him in his dreams. That everyone his co-workers, the patients and everyone he worked with would be mocking him, denouncing him for his hypocrisy. He felt the sharp sting of shame when he woke up in the morning and remembered who he was. He walked out into the warm air, it had been blisteringly hot the whole day and Chuck pondered going to the local watering hole for a few beers. A few being probably at least five, six if he could afford it, and a few shots. The sun hit his eyes square on as he got into the car. This is longest fucking hangover i've ever had. If indeed he could remember the hangovers themselves because he used to remedy it with more drinking. Now he mainly drank on the weekends but when he drank it was always in large quantities. He pulled out of the parking lot unto the street. The liquor store was right across the street and he found a spot right in front. The Korean lady who owned the store always seemed to give him a stare of contempt. When he bought his usual six pack and three nips of whiskey. He walked into the store with a feeling of triumph and despair, triumph because he had made it through the the day, despair because he was going to the liquor store again. The air conditioning felt nice on his skin as he walked in, he always like to take a second to look around. The lady did not like that either. He walked to the cooler and got his usual six pack of becks and sauntered up to the counter. He liked to be especially nice to the lady, oblivious to her contempt. He noticed the lady had already had the three nips on the counter as he approached. She glanced at the six-pack and said in a derisive tone 'anything else.' Chuck smiled, 'Yes please just two of the beam.' She slowly moved over and grabbed the two bottles as if hoping he would just go away. She and rang in the order and he handed her the bills. She ponderously handed over the change. 'Thank you, have a nice day.' He said in a jubilant voice. He walked out taking two of the nips out of the back and into his shirt pocket. The heat blasted him as he walked out into the parking lot and got to his car. He unlocked the doors and opened them putting the six into the backseat. He got into the front and extracted a beer from the back. He opened it with his lighter and took a swig. What a day, he thought.

As far as i'm concerned, your fired.

People are fucking idiots. A prime example of this lies in history. During the first battle of the Civil war citizens, and various politicians from Washington gathered upon the battlefield to see the battle. During the Union retreat which eventually followed the armies got tangled up with the carriages of the spectators. Anyone who has a desire to actually witness combat obviously has something wrong with them. But anyone who has prolonged exposure to human beings has likely come to the same conclusion I have. That the average person is not particularly bright. Especially large groups of people. Angry mobs. No good had ever come from large amounts of people congregating with feelings of rage.

Nothing vanishes without a trace.

It was during the beginning of the third straight hour of Law and Order that Mike began to ponder how his life got this way. Sitting on his old couch with pizza boxes and cartons of Chinese takeout strewn across his room that he began to wonder why. At first he had refused to watch Law and Order refused to give in. But as he slowly became aware of the pitiful array of television programming offered during the day he gave in. He took a sip of his 40. The cold liquid felt good going down and the warmth spread to the rest of him. It was his second of the day and as he was halfway through it the effects were finally starting to materialize. TV was a strange beast Mike thought. Every channel seemed to be straight blocks of the same programming and all of the shows used in those vast blocks seemed to be the ones with the least artistic merit. Still he had slowly gotten used to Law and Order and gotten into the cases. Still it seemed strange that they had to run it so many times in the day and that there were so many versions of it. Damn I am so unemployed, Mike thought taking another long draw from the 40. They had fired him at the supermarket for drinking at the end of June and he had been just barely able to pay for the July rent. Then a few weeks after he had gotten his unemployment. Now as August approached he knew the next week was going to be tough. The endless commercials irritated him too, all of the ones for schools, and training programs. It was as if the marketers knew that a vast bloc of unemployed losers was watching TV at a given time and wanted to capitalize on it. Mike got up from the couch and found a few roaches from the other day on the living room table. They were small but just barely enough to satisfy his craving. He picked up his bong the ground and placed it on the table. Time for good times he thought

You are not sending me too the cooler

In the great book by Alex Haley The Auto-biography of Malcom X Malcom describes how he first started to become alienated from the Nation of Islam Malcom finds out that the leader of the organization The Honorable Elijah Muhammed was in face not quite so honorable after all. He had several illiegtimate children in the south from young women whom he had abandoned. At first he thought it was merely propaganda but soon after he went down and spoke to the women who had accused the Honorable Elijah Mohammed, He also found out that Elijah Mohammed had also been badmouthing him behind his back. Malcom had idolized Elijah Mohammed and had preached his doctorine for many years. He would begin many of his statements with 'the honorable Elijah Mohammed tells us such and such and had championed his ideals and grown his organization for the years. He later was further chastised after says the that assianation of President John F. Kennedy was an example of 'the chickens coming home to roost.' This remark eventually led to his censure by the Nation of Islam and eventually leaving the Nation of Islam to form his own organization and go on the Haijj. But I digress because the one thing he said after find out about Elijah Muhammed was that 'My faith was shaken in a way I could never explain.' I have felt that way recently. Got burned by someone I regarded as a really good friend when I was in a vulnerable position, A breach of trust unexpected and caught quite by suprise. Someone I knew and trusted for almost three years completely fucking me over for no particular reason at all. Its the sort of thing that shakes your faith in people in general and humanity at large. So many assholes. So many examples of cruelty and malice visited upon people all around the world. From small scale examples like mine to large ones such as totouturs, and evil dictatorships to child rapists and pepophiles. Like the 'doughboy' case in Greenfield Mass where a family had held a retarded man hostage for weeks toutureing him for several weeks. It was in fact a house a had passed frequently walking around the neighborhood. But there are always examples of good people sometimes but in the minority.

Steak and eggs

Louie gestured towards the waitress attempting to get her attention. 'Hey toots could we get some more coffe over here?' she sauntered towards them with a blatant attitude of contempt. They were notoriously bad tippers and they stayed and talked long after their food was gone. She poured the coffe in silence and walked off. Louie remained silent without even a hint of a 'thank you.' 'I don't know what the fucks her problem.' He said loud enough for the whole diner to hear. 'Your the one who always wants to come her.' Sal replied sipping his coffe. 'I told you that you fuckin moron its the only place where they won't be listening to us.' It was a dubious claim to be sure as Louie was frequently tailed by at least one FBI agent but it seemed reasonable at face value. 'So you take care of that thing for me?' Louie asked. 'What thing?' Sal asked wholly vexed by the question. 'You know with that guy Jimmy...' Sal paused for a second. 'Oh yeah we took care of that last night. Louie sighed. Sal was a big guy and could hit like a ton of bricks but he was not much on brains. He came from a family in Sicily that had been enforcers for La cosa nostra going back a century. Louie had remembered hearing from someone that some of his kin going back had been inbred. 'You gotta be careful out there now. Keep your nose clean, be careful what you say to anyone.' Louie looked around the diner anxiously. 'We been hearing things that we may have a snitch.' Sal's faced remained impassive but he was listening intently. 'Could be anyone so just watch out.'

Unionman

'I refuse to answer the question on the grounds that it might tend to incriminate me.' John O'neil had repeated the line so many times that he was almost unaware that he was saying it. The senator had hammered on along this line of questioning for a half hour with the same results. It had been a parade of flashy dressed mobsters, union officials, all repeating the same mantra. He wondered why they even wasted their time with it. The senator knew the questions would elicit the same response by the gangster's but the questions continued. John had found a blank spot on the wall and had been staring at it repeating the same refrain. He was getting irritated by the comitte members dark stares. It helped that he had finished off a fifth of scotch before going in to testify. Most of the comitte members were WASPs of some description most of them well off from middle America, while most of those summouned to testify were urban ethnics of some description Italians, Irish, Jews. John listened as the senator continued to drone on about corruption, vice, and the destruction of this country's values. For John it was ironic considering how many upperworld politicians and law enforcement officals who enabled them to operate. The scotch had started to wear off and there was still several more characters to be called to testify.

He has lost his left arm but I have lost my right

Virginia 1850

Samuel looked up at the stars carefully looking to the north one. It was not a difficult task as the heavens were lit up and it looked as if one could see across the galaxy. He had been following the path for three days, avoiding farms and houses, living off of what he could pillage from farms. He had heard about freedom. About those who had fled the plantations and made their way north. He had heard that there were those in the north who were sympathetic and who would help him. All of it had seemed like some crazy fantastic idea but he had gone with it. He had stored up enough courage and he ran. Anything, better then the life he had left behind. A life of cruelty, of beatings, of backbreaking labor from dusk til dawn. Samuel had not told anyone about his plans, it was too risky. There were always those among them who would turn him in. Those who would tell simply to curry favor with the master. Some of the others had spoken of escape but mainly it was in a theoretical kind of way. Something they might attempt if the consequences were not too dire. They called it crazy. For Samuel it was far more crazy to submit to a lifetime of toil with nothing to show for it except a few ragged pieces of clothing and bad lodging. That was insane. He knew that there was likely a party looking for him by now, dogs and a whole bunch of rednecks. Still he vowed he would rather die then go back.

I can show you the world

John O'neil awoke with a start. He stared into the darkness for a few minutes attempting to process it all. For a while he thought he was back in the pacific but now he slowly came to the realization that he was in his home in Staten Island. Cold sweat covered his brow and he wiped it off with his hand. The images had come back to him. Horrible godforsaken images. Images of death and carnage, of severed limbs and decapitated heads. Images so horrific that no amount of time or medicating had been able to delete them from his brain. Of burning flesh, of piles of dead bodies, of talking to your best friend one minute and having his head blown off a second later. For a long time the drinking had gotten rid of the images for him. For a long time he assumed they had gone away. However they would still come back to him from time to time and tonight seemed to be one of those nights. He got up from his bed. He looked at the clock 4:30 am it was very early. Still he knew it was unlikely he would be able to get to sleep again. Most likely it would invite more images. He walked over to his liquor cabinet. He extracted a tumbler glass from underneath and poured himself a large shot. He took the shot as if he were drinking water. At this point it was almost a reflex something done without thinking. Johnny had a meeting with Vito later and he was already worried. Fear was something that was always hard for him to process. After all he had been a marine earlier in life. A decorated combat veteran for him to be scared because of a few overweight Italians seemed absurd to him. Still he knew what those men were capable of. They could order a man killed without a second thought. If the boss said so they would murder their own brother. What chance did he stand? An Irishman in a sea of Italians. They had always liked him but he knew the bigger picture. He knew if the hammer really came down they woulden't hesitate to put him out of the picture. And nowadays the hammer was coming down hard. Already the government had supeoaned him before a congressional committe investigating organized crime in labor. It was only a matter of time before they figured it all out. John poured another shot, its going to be a long day he thought.

Where today are the Peqout?

Every week he would make the same promise. Every week he would tell himself we would not drink. Every week he would tell himself we would go to the gym. Every week he was let himself down, every week he would break all these promises. It always felt the same, hopeless, dejected but he didn't know how to stop.

The sacred tree is dead

Whats goin on blog. I been out for a while. Haven't thought bout this shit really. Now I done got to move son of a bitch. Godamn assholes.

In a sacred manner I live my horses are many

When he had his first taste of the firewater he had not taken to it. It seemed to burn his whole throat as it went down and he had very nearly spat it out. The trader at the post had given it to them in exchange for some robes and a few others goods. Still after the initial burn had began to see why people seemed to go crazy for it. It made them all feel warm inside. Indeed after a few more swigs from the bottle they had all danced and sang and had a good time generally. Had he known where the path of alcohol would lead him he would not have partaken in that first drop. Still he had not seen for several years the dark things the firewater led to. How it caused brothers to fight against each other, how it broke up families how it destroyed lives. By the time he had seen and recognized this he was already addicted himself and he understood why the traders and other white men pushed it on his people so much. Because it placated them, made them fight among themselves, made them stupid. He never thought it would come to this though. That they would all be rounded up unto barren, meager plots of land like animals. That a great majority of them would be killed off by bullet and bayonet, disease, and starvation. The whiskey seemed to make him forget about all that. It seemed to make it go away, if only temporarily. A brief respite in an existence which had long since lost its luster. Sometimes he wished the soldiers had killed him so that he had not become what he was now. A weak pathetic old man living off scant rations and scrounging every last cent for a drink. He had been a warrior in his youth, a fighter, a great hunter and provider. He had the respect and esteem of his tribe and was revered by all. Now he was nothing. He was someone the other old ones used as an example of what not to become. He was a cauldron of shame, self loathing, and despair. Yes it would have been better to have been killed, with honor.

Chain of fools

Alcohol is the father of bad ideas. All bad ideas, and by bad ideas I don't mean going to the grocery store while its too busy, but truly bad ideas evolve from alcohol. Bad ideas as in lets get in this car and drive even though I can barely see anything, or lets pick a fight with this huge dude. Bad ideas which end up having extreme consequences. It seems concieveable that the planners of the Vietnam war were drunk, or at least under enormous pressure. To commit such manpower and treasure to a war being fought half a world away seems to ludicrous when thought of with a sane mind. It is that same impulse that compels you to call your ex at 3 oh clock in the morning and find out how shes doing and profess your love to her. The same impulse that makes you say stupid things and later regret them. The same impulse that compells people to do all manner of stupid things.

The man of the hour has an air of great power the dudes have envied him for so long

I hate how these days every fucking thing has to be online. Has to be accessed through some kind of username and password which you usually forget right away. Why can't some things just be flesh and blood and paper and have you speak to a real person. Like at my school to get my grades and access all this stuff I have to log in to some complex system with a random username and a password I usually forget. Can there not be a better way. I suppose in some ways they find it more efficient then having to house tomes and tomes of records and files on people but by golly its frustarating.

You got me where you want me I ain't nothing but your fool

Whats up you crazy blog. I want a girl. A very good girlie. A very good big girlie with a very big butt and and very big tits who is very cute. A godess that I can worship every day of every hour. To tell her she is my very favorite girlie. God I love all of them those girlies. They are all so very cute and I love them all.

This is thriller thriller night

You can't deny the props of the genius's. Some people deride Michael Jackson for his allegations of child molestation. Still I think first of all none of this was proven and also it does not in any way diminish the amazing contribution he has made to our collective pop culture. Thriller for gods sake fucking genius. Bob marley cheated on his wife several times does that diminish his significance as a musical figure I do not think so. I think you cannot deny the props to those that have toiled and put in work and earned the props they have. No matter what the personal misgivings they may have had they have still contributed vastly more to society then most of us have. They have given us joy and peace and respite in bad times. Hope and joy in others. In short they have given some of us life.

Unleash your anger only your hatred can destroy me

'Can I get two mega-millions and two ruby reds please.' Frank glared viciously at the man at the counter. So intensely that the cashier could feel the intensity of his hatred. She quickly grabbed the tickets the man wanted and put him on his way. 'Thank you.' the man said as he exited the store. Frank walked up to the counter feeling intense loathing as he did so. 'Can I just get a pack of the orange zig zags.' The cashier understood and went over to extract them. She was a young woman maybe about 25 and she had a large ass and huge breasts to go along. Frank observed this as she turned around. They seemed to be everywhere to him, in stores at work everywhere. They mocked him as he went about his daily routine. It was as if there was a massive joke being played and he felt like the butt of it. Frank produced a five and handed it over to the cashier. She smiled as he handed it over and for a second he felt a spark, a vibe that he did not often feel. 'Thank you.' He said as she handed over the change and he quickly exited the store. Fuck frank thought. I should have tried to talk to her. But what would I say. That was the question he always would ask what indeed should I say. How do I approach strange women that I don't know. It was a vexing question that seemed to have no answer it was like the big bang theory or something out of science fiction. Difficult to fathom. Frank had asked a few people about it before and the answers were all pretty much the same. Have confidence, ask them questions, and so on. Still stranger was that some of the answers were different and so it was that the female species eluded him. He didn't want to think about them but still he did. There soft bodies and good smell and intense allure. To just lie next to someone and wake up next to them. Frank missed it so much yet he was not quite sure how to remedy the situation. He got into his car and produced a bag. Frank broke up the bud and began to break it up over the rolling paper, well its a start he thought.

Got to get over the hump

Been reading this awesome book called The first family about the first Mafia boss and family in the US. Its a fascinating read both in its subject matter and how the author sets the historical context for all the events he describes. For example the tenements in New York and how there would be these large immigrant families all living in one small apartment. This was before a lot of building codes were in effect and thus the tenements were packed. At the turn of the century some of these neighborhoods in New york had a high population density than Bombay. Also he describes how the Mafia came about from its origins in Sicily which had been plagued by a succession of foreign rulers which in turn bred a disdain for authority. The mafia thrived in this setting which in also led them to gain such a foothold in America. Whats interesting for me is as I read more about these guys is really what reprehensible characters they really are. While I do find aspects of they're lifestyle glamorous I can't deny their horrible nature. In Naples for example the Camorra controls the garbage collectors and recently something happened where they went on strike or something and the garbage has been piling up all over the city. In facts its gotten so bad that Italy has had to send their trash over to Germany to incinerate it. Because of the Mafia's control of the construction unions in New York all of the construction and public works costs went up because of the Mafias inflated prices on the projects. Also the overall cost of living in New york went up because of mafia price gouging. Talk about a drain on society. Still I cannot look away.

The dismal tide

So many horrible jackoff's. And so little time. How I hate them all so much and with such vitriol it can be scarcely understood. I literally feel like no one has any use for me. That I am a mere pawn for their common amusement of little to no merit.

The jerk store called they're running out of you!

The old storefront with the brick facade looked hardly like anything that would be noticeable to the passerby. Its windows were small and dim and above the lone door was a sign that read:members only. Louie walked into the dark club with a mixture of anticipation and dread. He had just lost 3 g's on a bet and had to pay his bookie back by Friday. The anticipation came mainly from the act of asking Pasquale for the money. He already owed money to several bookies across town and a few loansharks. Still Pasquale had always been a kind and generous person Louie knew as much as a capo could be, and he would likely concede. Pasquale was known by most of his associates as Pat but Louie had never been able to call him that. He had been born in the old country and raised speaking Italian and it never quite seemed natural to him. As Louie walked in the smell of cigarettes and stale air engulfed him. There were a few characters milling about, most he recognized some he had never seen before, 'Hey Sal.' Louie said to a familiar face at the bar. 'Louie how are ya?' Louie walked up to the bar embracing Sal. 'The big man around?' Louie asked with a twinge of fear in his voice. 'He's taking care of some business in the back, he'll be with you in a little bit.' Sal walked towards the back room to get him. Louie asked the bartender for a beer, it was 11am but he felt like he needed something to calm his nerves.
The tender placed the beer in front of him and he took a quick swig. The cold hops felt good to him as he they washed down his throat. Pasquale sauntered out of the backroom towards the bar. He already knew why Louie was here and was dreading the moment. Louie had been making bad deals across town and certain things were going to have to be done about it. 'Hey Pasquale.' Louie said as Pasquale approached the bar. 'Hey Louie let me guess you need some money.' His tone was somewhat hostile and Louie was taken aback. 'Hey Pasquale I just.. 'Can it Louie i've heard it all. You were late paying me back the last time and I had to track you down. Don't make me have to do that again.' Louie stuttered. 'I promise I just need 4 g's.' Pasquale sighed and pulled out his billfold. He extracted the bills and handed them over. Louie took the bills and quickly finished his beer, the air had become hostile he could tell. As he walked out into the sunlight the glare enveloped him. He got the extra thousand because he had a good lead on a horse tonight, he could earn back what he owed an than some. Pasquale sighed as Louie walked out the door. 'Its a shame.' He said to Sal. 'What the shame he's a fuckin degenerate gambler.' Pasquale felt bad giving him the money. Louie was a hit waiting to happen and he knew it. Still it was his type that kept him in business. Those constantly in debt, who always needed some money. Still it was the way things worked in their life.

I haven't seen you in a while and i'm breaking your balls!

Bad times my friends. Past three days have all been shit. Got robbed at gunpoint one day next day have a party house gets messed up my moms all pissed. Fuck. Just feels like things are on a downward spiral with little hope of redemption. I remember in the fog of war Robert MacNamara was talking about working in the office of statistical control in the air force. They looked at all the records of the bombing missions and they found a high percentage of the missions were aborted. So they looked at it and finally figured out that it was all bullshit. They knew that not alot of them were going to go down but a decent amount so they made up reasons not to go. So the commander Curtis Lemay told them that he would go on all the missions himself and the whole crew would go or they would be court martialed so it stopped. I just found that hilarious that even in the airforce people would call out and not go. Says something about the human character.