You support the troops, but you drive like a complete asshole.

Okay. I've been away for a while. I think I may have found God. I don't know. Also, work/sickness/depression/a feeling of complete loss and hopelessness have consumed me lately. A lot's happened. I promise to write about it all in the coming months. I just can't think straight right now. People ask me what's wrong at work (They should damn well know; they keep piling on more ridiculous amounts of work for me to do. I'm getting paranoid. I think this is all some kind of conspiracy to get me to snap so they can fire me.), and all I can respond with is "Shit's mad heated, son." And that seems to sum it up. I'll be back.

I emerged from my flu-encrusted hibernation this morning to discover that George W. Bush will remain our president for the next four years. Way to go America. I knew you wouldn't let me down.

I started talking to some of my friends on Instant Messenger to see what their feelings were. Many of them are outraged. They blamed people like me for not voting. I don't care about all that. I just want to maintain my selfish, wonderful lifestyle.

I went out for drinks last night with some coworkers. Typically, I drank way too much. We were in this really intense debate about consumer electronics, and Blu-Ray technology versus HD-DVD, and I started feeling really panicky, and just starting ranting, barely taking time to breathe in between sentences...I don't know what came over me, but I just starting rambling uncontrollably...It went a little something like this:

"Ughhh...Listen to all this...this doesn't improve our lives at all, does it? Or does it? Where does it all go when we're done with it? How much is left? Do we need any more? I want...another megapixel, another gigahertz, more anytime minutes... I look at all of you and some of you are actually doing things and going places and fixing things and helping people...where am I? I am the worst kind of human being, the absolute most useless thing to our race. I have nothing to offer. A few jokes maybe...a couple of new ideas...no, mostly just rehashed and not as good as the originals. God, I really have nothing to offer society...nothing. My existence is a joke. Simply here to collect disposable income and spend it on things that destroy me. I woke up and looked around my bed this morning...a trashcan full of used kleenex and chocolate bar wrappers, a kitchen full of empty fast-food containers and soda cans, men's magazines all over the floor of my bathroom...went to my living room and it was just full of shit, complete shit. Horrible movies on DVD, men's/consumer magazines, a fishtank I was too lazy to set up, a half-assembled stereo system, video game consoles strewn about the floor... All relics of my godless, hedonistic lifestyle. I'm disgusting. I could disappear tomorrow and it wouldn't affect anything. Someone else could do what I do, and probably be better at it. And maybe actually invest their money and use it to benefit mankind, instead of just spending it on themselves. I'm so worthless.......uh.............PSYCHE!!!"

Then I high-fived one of my coworkers (I don't remember which one), the conversation picked up right where it left off before I started babbling, and we spent like 200 dollars on more beer and food.

Hmm. Where do I begin? A lot's happened in the past few weeks. Professionally, romantically, emotionally. It always happens all together like that. I still haven't been back to the gym. Haven't had time. Been really busy with work, and buying DVDs...and a date. A really special one, I think. With the girl from the party. I emailed her last week (I'm not sure why I waited so long), and she took some time to get back to me. I was getting nervous. Maybe I took too long to write her? Maybe she was toying with me? Maybe she thought I was stupid and ugly and didn't want to ever see me again? Maybe she didn't give me her real email address and she was never interested in me to begin with? Maybe she was as shitty as I originally thought she was when we first interacted? All of these thoughts upset me and I began to hate her again. Suddenly, she emailed me four days later, and by the time I finished reading her message, I was captivated again. She wanted to meet. She included her phone number in the email. For some reason, my stomach began to hurt at the sight of her digits. I got really nervous, and decided that deleting the email and never talking to her again might be a good idea, but then I realized that I had to seize this opportunity while I had the chance. I queued up "Like a Prayer" by Madonna (one of my favorite guilty pleasures) on my stereo and turned up the volume. Inspired by the music, I started doing pushups. 25, 50, as many as I could do. After 4 sets of 25, I stood up, a trembling mess, sweaty and red faced, and ran into my bathroom, peeling my shirt off. I flexed my swollen muscles in the mirror, cooing to my self, "Yeah....yeah. You like that?" After I felt sexy and confident enough, I turned the music off, took a few deep breaths, and called the number she gave me. It went straight to her voicemail message. He message was short, cute, and to the point. "Hi. Not here, leave a message. Bye." I liked that. The phone beeped at me. "Uh...hey. HEY. This is...the guy you met at Marty's party a few weeks ago. The guy that you emailed. Today. Hey. So uh, I was thinking we could maybe hang out? This weekend? Soon? I'd like to take you to this gourmet Chinese place downtown...if..that's alright." I continued to babble for maybe ten seconds more, before finally giving her my phone number to call me back. Then I drank beer and played xbox for the rest of the night, hating myself for sounding so idiotic on her voicemail.

Well, she ended up calling me back, late that night, after I had almost gone crazy convincing myself that I'm worthless and that she'd never call back. She told me she'd love to let me take her out to dinner, and we made plans for Friday night. I spent the rest of the week in a nervous/excited daze. But I couldn't help thinking this was some cruel joke and that she wasn't going to be at the restaurant. I have to start taking these chances, I told myself. I need a mate...a lover...a sidekick. Or at the very least, someone who'll make me feel good about myself. So the night finally came, and when I showed up at the restaurant, there she was, looking stunning. The date went wonderfully. We talked about all kinds of things (she was actually interesting), and I was able to get her to crack up a few times. Making her laugh made me feel so amazing. For instance, when we were ordering our meals, I insisted that I make some recommendations to her. "No no, I insist. Put the menu down. I've been here a bunch of times. I'll read you some of the specialties," I told her. She seemed hesitant, until she saw what I was up to. I lowered my voice and began to speak in a Chinese accent, pretending to read from the menu. "Ah, tonight's ah special, we have ah braised ree-tah-ded duck een a special peeglet sauce." She looked at me with her mouth agape, then looked around to make sure no one could hear us, and started giggling quietly. I smiled at her. "Ah, Szechuan baaayby cheecken! Most suffering baby chicken! Extreme pain and unpleasantness brings out special dericate frava in baby chicken!' A waiter walked by with food for another table, so I cleared my throat and started speaking normally. "Ahem, I think we should get some of the homemade dumplings. They're really good here." When the waiter was far enough away, I resumed my game. "Ah yessss. You get ah thees! Dericate pigret, in special pigret sauce! Little pig taken away from his mother at very young age, very heartbroken! Die most excruciating death, taste so dericious!" At this point my date was actually clapping her hands with delight, slightly bouncing up and down as she laughed. I was melting inside. I then handed her a menu and we both ordered some delicious meals. We also got funny drinks. She ordered a zombie (which got her pretty buzzed) and I did my best to order a suffering bastard with a straight face (except with the waiter repeated my order - ah, suffering bahstahd) it was all I could do to not burst out laughing. She was kicking me in the shins while I ordered to keep me in line. There was rarely a break in the conversation during the meal, except to put food in our mouths. We went our seperate ways after dinner, and I felt the happiest I've felt since I keyed some asshole's Range Rover that double-parked in the parking garage at work last month. But even happier. I have a feeling that things are going to be okay for me...

had a nightmare last night:

...brief glimpses of a world where celebrities (mostly athletes) get corporate tattoos on their bodies as the final step in ultimate corporate sponsorship. andre agassi took that last pathetic step and had a large nike swoosh tattooed on his bicep. celebrities are also sponsored in name as well. for instance Vin Diesel is no longer Vin Diesel, but 'Pepsi presents Vin Diesel.' coming soon to the AOL Time Warner Nestle Multiplex near you: Apple Computers Motion Pictures presents Star Wars 9, Starring Pepsi presents Vin Diesel, brought to you by Burger King, in association with ExxonMobil's entertainment subsidiary.

that's all I can remember. so much more has happened. been so busy lately. stressed out and eating a lot of junk food. it was really cold last night. i had some thai food and i think they put a lot of MSG in it, and that gives me weird dreams. not always about andre agassi.

Dear robo-diary,

I'm sorry I haven't written in a while. The last couple of weeks have been super hectic at work, as projects have been rolling in and I've been trying to redeem myself, socially and professionally. Plus I took a little trip down to DC this weekend to visit an old friend. It gave my patriotism a sorely-needed boost. A metro bus driver gave me several compliments on my diesel digital wristwatch, which made my day. I pride myself in how cool my accessories are. Hats, watches, sunglasses, shoes, messenger bags, etc. We also went to Virginia for a day to see some sites. It was enlightening, as I'd never been there. An interesting observation: I saw a beat up old pickup truck on the highway with two bumper stickers on it. One said "VOTE FREEDOM FIRST" and had an American flag and eagle on it, and the sticker next to it had a big confederate flag on it. I think in this upcoming election, i'm going to vote freedom last, if possible.

Anyway, when we last left our hero, he had just started going to the gym (he hasn't been back yet) and was looking forward to a big party that upcoming weekend. So I went to this party, and had a really good time. I got really drunk and got to talk to a lot of kids I went to school in. A lot of them are in positions similar to mine, so we talked a lot about work, the industry, politics, everything. A lot of them didn't seem all that happy either. Like they weren't really satisfied with their lives. Which is weird, because a few of them had really nice cars. So I was getting increasingly blotto as the night went on, and I started pretty early, so people continued to show up to the party even after I'd hit a pretty good drunk-level. At one point, the doorbell rang, and no one did anything about it, so I took it upon myself to go open the door and greet our new guest. I could see through the screen door that it was a girl, so I composed myself as best I could and went down to the front door, slowly opening it with a big, sincere smile on my face. The girl standing there was really cute. Hip clothes, short hair, and a 6-pack of Bass in one hand, Amstel Light in the other. I liked what I saw. "Hi!" I said enthusiastically, as I held the door open for her. She looked at me for a moment, then rolled her eyes to one side of her head and said "Okayyyy..." and walked inside the house, not saying anything else. I stood there for a moment, still holding the door open, stunned. What the fuck? I couldn't believe how rude she was. I went back upstairs and quietly complained to a bunch of people about this girl's snotty entrance. "Who is that girl?" I asked a few of my female classmates (I can't believe how distant college seems to me now), while swilling more beer and shoving cheese and crackers into my mouth. "I think that's one of Becky's friends? I'm not sure," said one of the girls. "Weh, she don know who she fuhcking wiff" I said, my mouth full of crackers, spraying cracker bits and dust all over one of the girls, who walked away in disgust, brushing herself off. For the next hour, I positioned myself around this girl covertly, glaring at her and drinking imported lager after imported lager, pretending to listen to the people who tried to start conversations with me. "Well, yeah, I think that these new marketing initiatives will be really important in the next year, and uh, we'll see an interesting trend in the return of equities to the company if we keep up this aggressive growth, and um, embrace new media technologies that will enhance user experiences and increase brand loyalty through rebate incentives and...and..." I found myself saying, not even paying attention to the bullshit spewing from my lips. All I could think about was that girl, and how to outwit her. She looked so confident, smart, sassy... Drinking her Bass and tossing her head back with laughter, never making eye contact with me. It drove me crazy. I spent the rest of the night working up the drunken courage to approach her, trying to figure out something to say that would baffle her. At the same time though, I wanted to somehow impress her. I was oddly attracted to her. Twenty-four years old, and I still can't figure these things out. Anyway, things started to wind down as people started leaving, and only the drunkest remained. A good amount of people were still there though. I couldn't stomach anymore beer, and by that point I was really really drunk, and completely obsessed with confronting this mystery girl. So I finally stumbed over to her, everything around me moving slowly as I approached with hesitation. Even as drunk as I was, I was actually nervous. She stopped talking to her friends and just stood there, staring at me blankly as I slowly walked towards her, trying not to look as drunk as I actually was. I stood there for a moment, trying to compose myself, while her and her friends just looked at me. I think one of them was snickering at me. I hadn't really thought of what I was going to say to her exactly, so all that came out was: "Hey. So...uh...want to find out why they call me ostentatious B?" She stared at me...."Wh-what?" she asked, laughing a little bit. "Want to, uh...want to..haha...fuck. I don't know." I then held out my hand and offered her a proper introduction. Suprisingly she accepted it and seemed genuinely pleased to make my acquaintance. Her friends walked away from me and we stood there, slowly building up to a conversation, which was actually really interesting and lasted a good half hour before I abruptly told her that I had to go to bed and dream of electric sheep. Somehow I woke up with her email address written on a ripped piece of toilet paper in my pocket. I never found out why she was so rude to me upon her arrival. This girl baffles me so. I have yet to email her...I'm trying to figure out how to approach this. We'll see where this goes...

In my quest for self-improvement, I finally got myself to start going to the gym. I've gone once, anyway. I didn't care for it all that much. It reminded me of the times I used to go to the gym in college and all of the gross meatheads that would hog all the nautilus machines for like fifteen minutes at a time. There were a few meatheads at this gym, but luckily not nearly as many as I expected. There were also a bunch of sexy ladies in tight spandex, which made me really insecure and uncomfortable. Of course I was wearing all brand new clothes; a pair of New Balance running shoes I bought last week, new Nike shorts, a hot new Puma shirt. I considered getting a headband and some wristbands, but thought that might be too over the top. I bought them anyway, but didn't wear them at the gym. I also bought a new minidisc player, since I didn't want use my old one and get it dirtied up at the gym. I started out on one of those elliptical machines, and did that for about ten minutes before I looked around me and realized I was the only male in the gym using one. For fear of looking like a homosexual, I quickly switched to a treadmill. My performance was pretty laughable, and when I felt I had sweat enough, I got off the treadmill and walked toward the weight machines. I want to get my arms real huge and fierce-looking. As I was walking toward the weights, with my legs all wobbly, this big douche-looking meathead starts walking towards me. He's got the tiniest shirt on and his muscles are all glistening. He has this smirk on his face that just makes me hate him so much. So I try to look as sure-footed and physically competent as possible as I walk towards him. Of course, right when I am about to pass him, something, an eyelash or sweat or something, gets into one of my eyes, and I immediately flinch and blink really hard. The asshole thought I was flinching because of him, and as he passes me he laughs quietly–this confident, toughguy laugh. Dammit. Why did that have to happen? How am I supposed to prove myself in the gym scene if the resident muscleheads think I'm a big pussy and am already scared of them? I spent the next half hour working my rage out in the weight machine section. I mostly fantasized about bashing the guy's head in with a barbell. It really gave me a performance boost as I frantically went from machine to machine. Well, that, and all of the dietary and exercise supplements I purchased at GNC. My heart was palpitating a lot, but whatever. In the end, my first workout went really well, and I already feel better about myself. Plus I saw the guy who snickered at me get into his car (a Dodge Intrepid - ooooohhhhh), so he'll definately get vandalized in the near future. By me. I'm super psyched for this weekend. I'm going to a party tomorrow with some friends from college I haven't seen in a good while, and I'm feeling really confident. It's time to find me a new mate.

They told me that they think I need help. And getting help would lessen the chances of being fired. And I don't want to be fired because I fear change, and all the stress that comes along with searching for/getting a new job. So I had my first psychiatric session on Monday. I've never had one before. I think I learned a lot about myself and really understand how I can better myself and become the man I've always wanted to be.

The shrink was a nice guy...basically how I expected him to be. Soft-spoken, bearded, with a nice overall atmosphere in his office. Much nicer than the other offices I've been to as a child. Doctors, dentists, orthodontists, optometrists, allergy specialists, physical therapists, dermatologists, chiropractors, etc. For some reason, I immediately felt comfortable with this man. He seemed so approachable. And I was prepared to completely reveal myself to him. I didn''t care what he might think about me. It's his job to listen to what I say, no matter how unsettling it may be. So I sat on his nice little couch, and he basically just let me talk, which I love to do. He asked me to tell him about myself, about my childhood, my present life, and what I want for the future. I told him that I basically just want a nice big house by the beach, a hot wife, a bunch of foreign sportcars and luxury cars, and a really sweet home entertainment center. He told me that a lot of people my age are focused on material gain, but neglect their emotional and spiritual needs. I just nodded my head and said "yeah, but have you been to Best Buy lately? Those new plasma televisions are incredible! I can't wait to be able to afford one." Then he decided to change the subject. "Okay B, lie down and relax. I want to know what moves you. Tell me something about...the most beautiful thing you've ever seen." And I opened my mouth to speak but he quickly interrupted, "NOT something about televisions or cars or stereos either. Or women with big breasts." And I laid back for a moment and thought about what was really beautiful to me. And at first I couldn't think of anything. I could only think of bad things. Rigged elections, new world orders, media-biased wars, the oncoming complete downfall of humanity. "No," I said, "I'm a monster. All I can think about is bad stuff. And porn. A lot of porn." "Come on B," he coaxed, "I'm sure there's something you've seen or felt in your life that's really moved you. It can be anything. Not just a place or a person or a thing." "Well," I spoke softly, deep in thought, "there was this one time, this one thing I can remember, that for some reason, always seemed so special to me. It was few years ago." I paused in recollection. "Go on," he told me. "I had an internship during college, in San Francisco, during the peak of the dot-com boom. I was living outside the city, and I'd take the train in every day. On the walk from the train station I passed a lot of interesting sites. A lot of bums, mostly. But there was one day..actually I think it was two occasions, where I saw this young man crossing the street. And he was obviously retarded..um, he had down syndrome. He was probably in his twenties. But it looked like he was going to work or something. He had this brown leather briefcase slung over his shoulder..there was something about the way he carried himself that made him seem really purposeful and grown up. Just like anyone else in the city that was on their way to work. It really struck a chord in me. How someone so flawed at a fundamental genetic level could be so strong and independent and capable. It really seemed beautiful to me. I watched him for about a minute, then I ended up seeing him again on the same street a few days later, and it really made me happy to see him. It was really...wonderful." I sat there for a while longer, not saying anything. I think I really moved the shrink. He didn't say anything for a minute, then he spoke. "Wow B. That's really nice. I'm glad you can identify with something like that. You see? It shows you're not a monster at all. You're a sensitive, intelligent human being." "I'm a sensitive...intelligent...human being," I repeated to myself, quietly. "Okay B, our time is up. I want you to think about the things we've talked about, and further explore the things you've told me about yourself. Especially that last part. And I'd like you to come back again next week and elaborate on these things." I happily agreed, feeling like something had been lifted off of my shoulders. I shook his hand and went home to go play with my kitty, who I've been neglecting lately. I'll pick him up some cat treats and a new squeaky mouse since he lost his old one, I thought. Then I'll go to the Stop and Shop (not the Shoprite) and pick up some veggies so I can make a stir fry. Then I'm going to stop by the gym and finally get a membership. No more feeling like shit. No more hating everything and everyone. I want a girlfriend again. I'm going to make things better for myself.

I did all of those things on my way home. That night I dreamt about the shrink, and his beard, which for some reason seemed very fake in the dream. I woke up feeling very mistrusting. I dont need him, I thought. I'm going to turn things around myself, without his help. That's MY money, not his! Besides, I fulfilled my requirements at work by at least trying to see a psychiatrist for a session. That day I opened up a money market to start putting away money for my dream home entertainment center.

I hadn't been grocery shopping in a while, since I usually eat out as much as possible to feel like a wasteful New Yorker, but I really wanted to get some Jello pudding pops, since they just came back on the market after a long and needless hiatus. Anything that can help bring me closer to the childhood that is slowly eroding away is of much importance to me. Well, I normally go to the Stop and Shop, but for some reason, as I was about to pull into the parking lot, I felt compelled to pull across two lanes and drive into the parking lot for Shop Rite, on the other side of the road. Maybe they could offer me a better produce selection and more discounts. What an adventure. Everything there was all backwards, and I wandered around for like an hour and a half before I found everything I wanted. But being in that new shopping environment made me feel slightly more emotionally vulnerable for some reason. I walked the aisles in a childlike daze, finding all sorts of unhealthy goodies with which to fill my shopping cart. I also found the precious pudding pops, and I let out a small "hooray!' when I saw them, after scouring the ice cream section. This chubby old Puerto Rican lady gave me a strange look and I just held the box in front of my chest and gave her a big goofy grin, as if I were posing for a magazine advertisement or something. I then skipped back to my shopping cart, clutching the box tightly. Maybe that elation made me slightly more sensitive to my surroundings for some reason, because I suddenly found myself extremely upset a few minutes later. I was rolling down the second frozen foods aisle, full of glee, when I laid eyes on a treacherous beast. Just awful. I couldn't stop myself from staring when I saw this monster slowly floating towards me. It was this big fat white lady with a ton of food in her cart, but more than half the food was meat. For some reason it just looked like the grossest thing I'd ever seen. So much red and blood and flesh color, all shrinkwrapped, and stacked on top of each other. Her cart was filled with hamburger meat, chickens, ribs, and a bunch of shit that I couldn't even identify..pig's knuckles or something? And of course there were tons of potato chips and bottles of coca cola in there too. My eyes started tearing up. I couldn't look away. The fat lady drew closer, lumbering behind her death-cart. I stood there trembling, staring at her, a tear rolling down my cheek. She stopped right next to me to get some frozen chicken wings, bending over, revealing her enormous ass, folds among folds. After placing the 100-count bag of chicken wings in her cart, she saw me staring at her, crying gently, and she asked me, rather sweetly actually, "Honey, what's wrong?" and I couldn't speak for a moment, then managed to croak "There's...there's like four chickens in there!" pointing to her cart, and then broke out crying, grabbing my cart and racing off. I was wiping the tears from my eyes and almost lost control of the cart, nearly slamming into a couple of little kids. Luckily I was calmed by the time I reached the cereal aisle, but not after returning the few meat products I had bought and replacing them with bocaburgers and tofu pups. I quickly purchased all of my groceries and left the Shop Rite, never to return again.

On my way home I stopped at McDonald's and got a Big Mac, then went home and ate four delicious Jello pudding pops.

UGH...work's been so hard to deal with lately, especially because of the arrival of a new girl (entry level, right out of college) in the marketing department. She completely embodies everything I could have hated about girls in college. She's really bubbly, blonde, outgoing, and just flat out stupid. I'm not sure why she got hired...I guess she's got good people skills or something. And she's already gotten me in some serious trouble with upper management. I'm blaming it all on that bitch. I refuse to believe that I acted inappropriately. See, on Monday morning (she started last week) I was in the kitchen telling Dan about my plans for Independence day, and how I plan to celebrate my freedom by getting really drunk and lighting fireworks and blowing up all these dolls I've been collecting from thrift stores over the past month. And I was telling him "yo son, me and my crew's gonna get ILL this weekend! Ya heard? I's gonna blow the FUCK oughta these dolls dis weekend...shit, be all celebratin our fo'fathers and shit, muhfucka be all up in the fourth of joo-ly son!" and Dan's laughing his ass off and that's why I like him (he laughs at my jokes and stereotypical impersonations), and this new girl, let's call her "Candy" because she's so fucking blonde and stupid, that may as well be her name, she comes in to get some coffee and and she stops and looks at us and I'm wildly gesturing with my hands and yelling "yeeeahhh boyeee! blow them shits up TIGHT!" and instead of laughing (which she should have done) she kind shifts her eyes to the side of the room and says "ooookaayyyyyyy" really slowly, then backs out of the room. And then she giggled and went back to her desk. And she seemed to think that was really funny. Come on, like what I was doing was that outrageous. She's probably seen/done more outrageous stuff than that...like maybe getting railed by three fratboys at once while being videotaped. I've seen shit like that on the internet. So later that day, I walk by her desk and she's talking to another girl in her department, and I obnoxiously insert myself into the conversation and then start snooping around her desk while they're talking. I'm looking at all these photos she's got framed on her desk and see one that's obviously her and her boyfriend (douchey-looking guy) and I say "THAT'S your boyfriend? Oh." And she stops talking to the other girl and looks at me with this insulted expression on her face (her mouth all wide open, stupid-looking) and I say "He looks...nice." And then I turn my attention to another one of her and her sorority sisters, who are kind of hot, but the picture still bothered me. Her and the other girl are still talking, and then I see a picture of her with her parents and her dad's kind of funny looking and his smile is really awkward, and I say (much louder than I should have, I admit), "Holy Shit! Your dad looks like a child molester! Hey Dan! You've gotta come see this, Candy's dad looks like a child molester in this picture! HAHA!"

Dan never came over. "Candy" cried, and I got in big trouble with both my manager and the big man. I'm now on probation for the next month so I really have to watch my behavior in the office. I gave Candy my best fake-sincere apology, and she seemed to accept it. However, she IS stupid, her boyfriend DOES look like a douchebag, and her father DOES look like he's a child molester.

My boss wants me to consider seeing a psychiatrist. It'll probably help me keep my job, so I guess I have to do it. But it's all for not. No one can fix me.

I found a new place to live. It's a newish apartment building. It's aight. My rent's actually cheaper now so I've got even more disposable income. I plan on eating sushi twice as much as I used to. Moving sucked. I ended up throwing a lot of stuff out. Even some old DVDs. Why the fuck did I buy Mission Impossible 2? I ended up giving it to some black kid riding his bike in my new neighborhood when I was unloading my car. He gave me a couple of cigarettes in return.

So now my life's back on track in that regard. I'm not sure how it all worked out...I went from not having a place to live one day to finding one, signing a lease, and being all moved in two days later. I think I believe in angels. Things always have this weird wonderful way of working out for me, no matter how much I fuck up. Also, I pooped in a chinese food container and threw it into an open back window in my old landlord's Denali as I was moving the last few things out of my old apartment. Take that, fucker. Take my shit-filled chinese food box. That's not a chicken wing in there, asshole! HAHAHA!

I've felt so cruel and angry and irritable lately. Probably for a variety of reasons. I think the move was pretty stressful. I'm suprised I got through it without any major breakdowns. I got some people from work to help me, and it was greatly appreciated, even though I don't really like any of them. But one of them actually hooked me up with this girl they knew. She sounded really interesting, so I asked for her number and called her up and asked her if I could take her out for sushi on Sunday night. Well, she agreed to let me dine her and of course upon meeting her I realized that I had made a horrible mistake. She didn't live up to any of my expectations. Especially physical ones. Also, she seemed to fancy herself quite the comedian. She was actually kind of mean. Constantly making little jokes about me. Stupid little jokes really, probably just meant to break the ice. But I didn't like her. So I was trying to think of a way to get out of the date. And then my savior walked through the door. I don't know who the fuck this guy thought he was, but he looked completely ridiculous. He was wearing sunglasses (it rained all day sunday and wasn't bright out at all), a long black leather trenchcoat, and had long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. He looked like a younger semi-less ugly Dee Schneider. I started choking on my Iced Tea when I first saw him, then quickly looked away, pretending not to see him. I coughed a couple of times and my stupid date asked me if I was okay in a really mean way, kind of laughing at me while she asked me, as if I was a moron for choking on my drink. "Mahhhh," I said quietly, patting my mouth dry with my napkin, "yes, I'm fine." I watched the trenchcoat dork out of the corner of my eye, waiting for him and the UGLY blonde girl that was with him to sit down. He was chewing gum with his mouth open, even though he had just walked into a restaurant to eat a meal. The little japanese guy working the door led them to their table, and then trenchcoat guy said "THANKS A LOT HIRO" all loudly, trying to be a bigshot. I guess he's a regular there. As soon as he sat down, I started looking around the room in a really exaggerated manner, so I could pretend seeing him for the first time. I laid eyes on him for a moment, smiled, looked back at my date who was busy shoving shrimp shumai into her loud mouth, glared at her, then looked back at the trenchcoat guy and stood up, pointing at him and yelling "HOLY SHIT! THAT GUY'S FROM THE FUTURE!! WATCH OUT EVERYONE! HE'S A TIMECOP OR TERMINATOR OR SOMETHING! SHIT!" I then whirled around, knocking my chair over and ran out the front door, once again leaving my date with a bunch of food and an unpaid check. The end.

My life's been much more frantic than usual lately. I mean, I'm always emotionally frantic (either that or completely emotionally numb), but I've been all shook up lately. My landlord's found a new tenant that'll pay more money for my crappy apartment (why??), so I'm getting kicked out. I've been looking for a new place for the past month, but just haven't found one that suits me. And sometimes I just can't bring myself to look for a new place. At night when I should be all over the classifieds, and making calls to people, sometimes I just sit in my room playing computer games, pretending that I don't really have to move. I'm dreading having to move all my wordly possessions. I have them just arranged/archived the way I want them. I'm not comfortalbe with change. I guess all this madness has me on edge even more than I usually am. Little things are really bothering me, like certain television commercials for instance. Especially that "Lamisil" commercial. It's a pill to treat toe fungus. And there's this little fungal gremlin hopping around people's feet, going "nyeahh...me and my friends will just settle in here, right under your nail bed," and he's lifting up this guy's toenail on his big toe like it's a fucking car hood or something, and climbing inside. And it scares the shit out of me. Normally watching "the Today Show" prepares me for my shitty day, but when I see commercials like this, I feel weakened and less able to deal with what the day may bring. The other commerical is the one for GE Financial Services or something, where Christopher Columbus is talking to the Queen of Spain, asking for funding so he can find North America by accident to bring her riches from around the world. And the Queen's got this creepy little guy standing by her side and he totally fucks Christopher Columbus over and when Columbus is in a rowboat and asking to be taken to the flagship, one of the guys rowing the little boat they're in says "this IS the flagship" and Columbus looks at the creepy Queen's assistant and he waves to him and he has the scariest fucking child molester look on his face and it just upsets me so much and the way that Lamisil fungus gremlin says "nailbed" just really really bothers me and Al Roker's getting fat again and I still don't care for Katie Couric and I need to find a place to live and I'm still so lonely but no woman is good enough for me and

CHAPTER 28: Low-Carb Hullaballoo

This Atkin's diet madness is consuming most of the women in my office. And some of the men. I considered it at one point, but then realized that my strong points don't lie in well-sculpted abs or big strong arms, but rather lie in my incredible personality and inner brilliance. Unfortunately, this brilliance goes unnoticed to most of those around me. It's either unnoticed or just misinterpreted. Whatever. I hate almost everyone I see anyway. I'm not really sure why. When I was younger, I was capable of finding good in almost everything or anyone. I guess I used up all my happiness during college. I found some low-carb chocolate bars in the office kitchen, and felt I should throw them out. So I did. I wish I had some kind of tasteless, odorless carb solution that I could inject into people's salads and chicken breasts when they weren't looking. That'd be funny. I've become obsessed with the idea of sabotage lately. I'm trying to do a little here and there. Mostly just mind-fucking people. Trying to manipulate them indirectly. Especially when it comes to their relationships or self-images. Like the episode during lunch yesterday for instance. I went to this little sandwich shop downtown yesterday, that has all sorts of delicious soups and sandwiches and salads and cookies and everything else. I love this place. It's expensive and infested with yuppies, and driving there is a huge pain in the ass because you have dodge like fifty of those enormous Lexus SUVs and finding a parking space is really difficult and I just want to smash and run over and destroy but I restrain myself because they have these awesome, awesome BBQ pork sandwiches. It's southern-style pulled pork, dripping with grease and BBQ sauce. So fucking good. Yesterday I made it there successfully, eager to snatch up the spoils of my hard journey. I ask the guy making the sandwiches for a BBQ pork one, and just as he's about to wrap it, I tell him to just give it to me now, because I just can't wait. So I'm standing in line, devouring this magnificent sandwich, barely even savoring it because it's so ridiculously good I just want to keep eating and eating it. There are a few people ahead of me in line, typical yuppies getting their stupid salads and tuna-wraps and such, and I'm halfway done with my sandwich already and considering ordering another one. And these two women in line ahead of me are babbling loudly about their jobs and husbands and this and that, and one comments on the other's choice of lunch and the other responds with "Ugh, yeah I'm on Atkin's. I'm just starting the notice the difference, and it feels really great. You know who should totally try it? Susan, and Amy, oh, and Elizabeth! They'd be great on it!" and her friend asks her why she's on a diet, as she looks great already, and she says "Ha! Yeah, YOU can say that, you look amazing. I'm so fat and summer's coming and I really need to lose some pounds and blah blah blah," and she drones on, loud enough for everyone in line to hear here. At this point, I decide to insert myself into the conversation, as she's making it my and everyone else's business. "Yeah," I interrupt, mouth full of decadent, rich, fatty pork, "You're pretty fucking fat. I mean..." I take another bite, even though my mouth is already full. There's pork grease and barbeque sauce all over my mouth and my hands, "Look ah yoshelf" (chomp chomp) "You hushband musht be really disgushted wif your bahhhdy." And if this was true, then her husband is a total asshole. Her body was fine, in fact, I'd go as far to say as this woman was gorgeous as she was. "Shtay on that diet, shweetheaaart. HAHAHA!" Then I start choking on my mouthfull of pork, cough a little, swallow, take another bite, go "MMMMMM!" and then start laughing again. The woman's pretty much in tears, her friend glaring at me. Neither of them knows what to say, so they just leave their food on the counter and leave the store, the woman is crying now and muttering "asshole....fucking asshole" as her friend pats her back, trying to reassure her. Then they're gone, and everyone's looking at me as I finish my delicious sandwich, then I ask the guy behind the counter for a bunch of napkins as I pay him. No one said a thing to me, they just gave me really dirty looks. But I'm pretty sure I caught one of the Mexican guys working in the kitchen trying to hold back some laughter. And now I'm not sure if I should go back there anytime soon. I'm afraid they might sabotage my pork. Dammit.

It's been so long since I've last written. Does anyone even care? Do I? Last night I felt like I had a beautiful moment. I listened to this CD my mom got me for Christmas years ago but never opened. "Relaxing Sounds" of the beach, the forest, etc. I laid down, emotionally exhausted from the past few weeks of dating, lying, hating women, hating myself. I cried for a good half hour. It was the purest thing I've felt in a long time. Nothing's made me happy lately. The horrible weather hasn't helped, either. Work has been frustrating. Dating has been frustrating, albeit comical. No one gets me. No one. I may be a complete monster but I'm still human, dammit. So what if I made my last date list her ten favorite DVDs during dinner and scoffed at most of her selections and told her certain movies didn't qualify because they haven't been released on DVD yet? So what if she ended our date at my house early because I rented "Robocop," one of my favorite films of all time, and laughed obnoxiously during all of the most violent scenes and kept asking her to cuddle? If you can't cuddle when Boddicker shoots that asshole cokehead's kneecaps out and tells his prostitutes "Bitches leave," then you aint down with Misanthropic B, MUTHAFUCKA!! AHAHAHA!

I'm so sorry.

Now....onto the dating adventures. This is where the shit gets intense. I've been creepin the online dating scene...lavalife, friendster, myspace, makeoutclub, match.com, all that garbage. I'm not sure if I really expect to find someone on here, or if I just want to fuck with people and make them miserable. I definately want to bother people, that's a given. But finding someone special would be a nice little bonus. I'm a real sexual force to be reckoned with online. I took all these glamour shots of me and listed the descriptors "sensitive asshole, self-centered, never satisfied, etc" into my profiles. My username is "Intense_Bro" for several of the sites. Strangely enough I've gotten some inquiries and even had two dates with women I've met online! Both have been total floosies, of course, but that's exactly how I wanted it. And I'm not really even interested in sex. Conquest, yes, but the actual intercourse is intimidating to me. I'll get around to that later. First I want to get my feet wet as I haven't been on a "date" with anyone in years. My first date was a good start. I shant mention her name, but I met her on Lavalife and took her out to dinner at one of my favorite restaurants (an Italian place). Her profile was interesting, if not a little desperate. She turned out to be an incredible bore. And spastic as hell. Really twitchy and unattractive. She reminded me of Sofia Coppola in her ugliness... she'd be smiling nervously one second and that smile would quickly turn into a frown as she'd look away and make a pathetic giggling noise. Someone must've really hurt her badly in the past. That sucks, but I'd rather not deal with it. So I did the only thing I could. I politely excused myself from the table halfway through the meal, and hung out in the bathroom for about 45 minutes. When I came back to my table, the check was paid and the table was being cleared. She was gone. Took a cab home I guess. I went home and played X-Box for a couple of hours. Good date.

I cried a lot last night, while I was trying to write some poetry or something meaningful and I don't even remember getting anything on paper except for some doodles of me naked inside a spaceship. But I woke up this morning, face-down on my desk, with the following written on a piece of paper affixed to my cheek with drool. You see, in my new quest for a sidekick/lover, I've found myself developing all sorts of crushes on people around me (mostly women). I've even been on a few dates, as I've been scouring the dating scene (both on and offline). Still, I somehow became infatuated with this girl in the office who's been there for a few months but for some reason I've never paid much attention to her. The obsession was quick and painful and I got the message and am trying not to bother her now (which is pretty easy as our departments don't have to interact too much) so hopefully I can now move on to more proper dating experiences.


...and i tried seeing her through a camera, hair falling apart like ribbons. tried to let her know i was really here, not a monster inside a well-dressed shell. aren't i though? i wanted to be loved for who i was and not who i am and certainly not what i am on my way to being. i could try to love her, i know this, but could i ever touch her, pleasure her like a ripe persimmon would under a tree under a sun, away from all those dark days. 'i like you but you're not really there' i think she was trying to say, and i understood it and i knew we could never be together. she couldn't know me anyway. she can't even see me, no matter much i see her. hoping she'd look back just once, say 'i'll love you better than her' but i think what she wants to say is 'your life is a tv show and i dont get you at all and i dont think you care about anything, not anything at all.' i tried letting it go, no more camera. mental snapshots only, and maybe some drawings or a cluster of numbers that would remind me of her somehow. she is very calculating, and she can see completely into me and know that there's nothing to be salvaged. a good little boy turned into an indifferent young man turned into an often malicious near-grown man. camera becomes binoculars, and it hurts to look at her from so far away.

Being Al Roker

I awoke with a sweaty brow at about 4am this morning, frightened and unsure of my surroundings at first. Within seconds I came back to reality and began to breathe deeply, realizing that I had been dreaming, and that I am in fact not Al Roker. I had yet another nightmare. The large amounts of melatonin I've been taking every evening might have something to do with it. I've been having difficulty sleeping lately, and taking melatonin seems to help me engage in slumber. The recommended dosage is about 2mg, but I've been taking anywhere up to 10mg, depending on how restless I am. Lately I've become very anxious...probably because the veil of security that comes with having a steady girlfriend has been lifted. Sometimes I lie in bed and start crying, or laughing, or talking to myself softly, or humming, or masturbating. In every scenario, I just can't get to sleep. My mind's flooded with imagery and emotions. Images of desired lovers, friends, coworkers, cell phones, video games, movies, Iraqi civilians, Haitians, Chinamen, etc, fill my head. I'm trying to get a grip on myself and not take any hard drugs, though I am sometimes tempted to. But I don't really consider myself much of a drug user. So melatonin seemed like a natural alternative. And so far, it's helping me sleep on those restless nights. The problem is that one of the supposed side effects is increased lucidity while dreaming. This has proven to be true, but another side effect is that taking more than the recommended dosage can result in nightmares. This has also proven to be true, but I'm almost fascinated by my nightmares, so sometimes I'll swallow five pills and whisper to myself "bring it on." I did that last night, almost eager to see what my brain could conjure in my sleep, and the result was not at all disappointing. I dreamt that I was Al Roker (the old Al Roker...fatter, and seemingly more jolly because of this) on the Today Show, and I was interviewing the crowd of fat cattle that amasses outside the NBC studios every morning for the show. This one group was a typical gaggle of Alabama fatties, holding some stupid homemade banner that had their names on it and the name of some county they live in in Alabama. I asked them what their names were and they all started giggling and screaming and saying hi to like twenty different people back home before I cut them off and pulled the mic away from them. "Ha ha! That's great! Thanks for comin out, gang!" I said with a smile. Then I started doing the national weather, but the screams of all these women and children cut through anything I was trying to say. "A little icey in New England this morning, as this cold front's moving in here, and..." but no matter what I said and how loud I tried to say it, it was completely drowned out by the inane babble and screams coming from these morons behind me, as if being on the goddamn Today Show was the greatest thrill of their worthless lives, which I'm sure it was. "And in the west....in the west...in the west...we see...in the west WOULD YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP? JESUS CHRIST...DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM? DO YOU? I'M AL ROKER! THE FUCKING WEATHERMAN! I'M TRYING TO TELL PEOPLE WHAT THE GODDAMN WEATHER IS GOING TO BE LIKE TODAY...YOU UGLY, HORRIBLE FUCKS! DO YOU REALIZE HOW FUCKING HARD IT IS WITH ALL OF YOU CONSTANTLY SCREAMING? THIS AIN'T NO GODDAMN PEP RALLY!" The anger felt very real. I couldn't tell that I was dreaming. I was Al Roker. I felt such intense levels of frustration that this had to be real. I felt myself staring at the crowd, glaring at them with red eyes, a foamy venom dripping from my mouth. I breathed heavily, angrily. I wanted to devour the crowd...to go at them like a dervish of raw, evil energy. Children started crying. "YOU! Shut the FUCK up! NBC doesn't pay me, unless I do the goddamn weather and say my goddamn line, so I'm gonna do it!" I turned to the camera, screaming at the top of my lungs.."YEARGH!! AARGH! That's what's going on in the country.....here's what's....here's what's....here's what's going on in your neck of the woods! AAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!" I could no longer form complete sentences. Katie Couric showed up and tried to talk some sense into me, and I was trying to tell her how bland she is and to ease up on the fucking mascara, but all I could get out were guttural growls. I was just about ready to pounce on her and devour her, but then I woke up, sweaty, angry, and extremely hungry. I managed to get back to sleep and have a somewhat calming dream of being completely isolated in a little floating apartment in outer space before my alarm clock went off. As I sat on my couch eating my cereal and watching the Today Show, I was almost positive I saw a glint of madness and supreme frustration in Al's eyes as he tried to do the weather with the hordes of monster tourists screaming behind him. I started chuckling and then quickly became somber, because I actually empathized with the poor man. "I know Al, I know." I said aloud. I don't think I want to have any more nightmares for a while.

I saw an ad for American Idol on television Monday night and just started crying, not knowing why. I guess they were tears for humanity. Thank god the midget wedding show came on and my tears of tragedy were replaced by tears of hilarity. And it's not so much that I was laughing at them. Just that...I was laughing at the situation. And well, there were a couple of them that scared the shit out of me. So I guess I was laughing at them. Whatever. Everything's been alright since the breakup. In fact, things seem really good right now. Mostly because I've discovered the writings of John Titor, alleged time traveller, and everything else in my life seems inconsequential. Predictions for the future include an American civil war, beginning late 2004/early 2005, and an all out worldwide nuclear assault in 2015. In a way, I'm kind of relieved. Knowing that everything's going to fall apart within the next few years really takes the heat off. Especially in terms of maintaining a successful career and relationship. I didn't want to get married anyway. So I think I'm going to stop putting money into my 401K immediately, and start planning on getting that new car I want. I'm really going to start living for the now. I already was, but now I will even more. But I'm conflicted...I do want to see civilization as we know it destroyed, but at the same time, there are a lot of movies and video games coming out in the future that I don't want to miss. And having to resort to survivalist instincts might leave me a little fucked, being that I'm completely out of shape and was never a boy scout. Though there's always the possibility that I'll get thrown into jail for some reason when the country goes into martial law. And that's probably worse than having to survive and potentially shoot yuppies from rooftops amidst all the chaos. Maybe I should look into buying a firearm. Personally, they scare me, but it is my right as an American to own a shitload of weaponry. But anyway, I still have about half a year to go before I have to worry about civil war and the collapse of our government, so I'll enjoy my time in this wonderful republic right now, and I won't stop, no, I won't stop consuming! There are DVDs, consumer electronics, music, magazines, clothing, alcohol, and fast food purchases to be made! Plus I'm now "available" for the first time in...I can't remember how long we were dating, but it seemed like a really long time. So I've got to get back in the game and get some tail. But first I need to devise a strategy...

Ugh...so it went like this. I've been neglecting this relationship for the past six months and have been fully aware of it the whole time. I knew she loved me, I wanted to love her, but these days I feel so incapable of loving any living thing (except for Shakie Wilcox, of course), that I just can't reciprocate those feelings. So when she told me she loved me, I'd close my eyes and hold her and say "I love you," only I'd be thinking about a BMW or a 40" plasma television. We hadn't been having much intercourse lately. It seemed like she often wanted to, but no matter how unbelievably horny I'd be, somehow I'd weasel out of it, and when she'd go home, the first thing I'd do would be hop on the computer to look at some of my favorite amateur pornography sites. Last week, things got very difficult and it was evident that the relationship was finally on its last rope. I'm not even sure why she held on as long as she did. Instead of constructively dealing with the enormous problems between us, we went to the bar with some friends and got really drunk. We came home in the mood for love, only I fucked it up when we were having sex and I kept sloppily touching her face, saying stuff like "Oh yeah baby, tell me I'm brilliant. Tell me I'm hilarious. Yeah." She pushed me off of her, angry because we couldn't even make love without me being a complete monster. "What the hell is wrong with you, B? What happened to you?" she asked me. I told her how much it would turn me on for her to compliment me and tell me how funny and witty I am, but she wasn't having any of it. She jumped off the bed, put her clothes on, and went home in tears, leaving me nauseous and flacid in front of a computer screen for the next hour and a half.

The next night, I tried to make it up to her and take her out to a really nice restaraunt, who's name I shall not mention here. It's a real classy joint and I thought it might earn me some 'I'm sorry' points. I begged her on the phone to let me take her out and told her how sorry I was for my actions the preceding night. I picked her up and gave her a bouquet of flowers, which she loved. Things went really smoothly for the next hour and a half. Then, in the middle of our entree, my stomach hurt really bad and I had to excuse myself. I was in a daze in the bathroom...I'm not really sure what I did in there, if anything. All I remember was some guy who was dressed really well, in an Italian suit, using the stall and then promptly leaving without washing his hands. I washed mine thoroughly before floating back to our table and sitting down. God, she looked beautiful. I sat there, looking at her, wondering how a waste of life such as myself could land such a beautiful, loving woman. But there was fear in her eyes. Worry. Doubt. Someone else. That had to be it. How could she not be interested in other people? I must have left her so unfulfilled in every way. We started talking about something. I'm not sure what. I think she was talking about her job. She kept going on about it while I spaced out, staring at her but not hearing her words, ocassionally muttering "mm hmm." and "oh, ok" to whatever she was saying. I started looking around the restaurant, taking it all in. Fucking yuppies. 'When I get out of here, I'm going to key one of those goddamn Acura SUVs in the parking lot that made it so hard for me to find a parking spot,' I thought. I kept scanning the restaurant, while she blathered on. Then my eyes landed on the guy from the bathroom, the guy with the nice Italian suit. Suddenly I felt a massive rush and got really panicky. I loudly pushed my chair back and stood up, frantically pointing to the man and yelling "That guy didn't wash his hands after taking a shit!" I heard a bunch of gasps, and the guy damn near spit his wine out all over his date. I looked down at my girlfriend, and time seemed to slow down. She looked apalled, then she just looked like she was about to cry. She stood up, told me I was a worthless asshole and she's not giving me another chance, ever again. Then she stormed out of the restaurant, in tears. Obviously, I was asked to leave the restaurant, but I insisted on taking my half-eaten roast duck with me. I made sure to key a couple of luxury SUVs in the parking lot, all while stuffing bits of greasy duck into my mouth, and wiping the grease off onto peoples' windshields.

So now it's over. For real. I don't feel sad, I don't feel angry, I don't even hate myself any more than I usually do, even knowing that this is completely my fault, in every way. And yet, I feel so incomplete and empty. What have I done?

My girlfriend left me. My world is falling apart. At this point, only skeletor's cocksure ways can comfort me. USA! USA! More to follow...

Dear Diary:

Last weekend I went to a party thrown by this guy I don't really like that much. I knew him from school and somehow got invited, going on the basis that there would probably be a lot of drugs and fly honeys there. Plus I really wanted to cut loose after a week of constantly lying to myself and to others. After the first few hours of being there (which I don't remember), I realized I was out of my mind...drunk, stoned, whatever. I'm not even sure if I like drugs. I was feeling pretty good though, sauntering up to people happily, telling them what I thought of them based on their appearance. It's a wonder I didn't get punched in the face. At one point I found myself in the bathroom, barely standing up, wobbling, trying to urinate in the toilet and failing terribly. I leaned my head back and at that moment, a song by the Wu-Tang Clan started playing on the speakers in the living room. The song opened with the following monologue:

"Yeah. Ay yo what's goin on man yo man...anything is anything man...just...just get that cream aight man for real."

I started laughing maniacally, leaning back and nearly falling over. I closed my eyes for a moment, pissing blindly, and for a second, the lyrics almost seemed poetic. I felt as if I had attained some magical understanding within the song, that no one else was meant to find. Certainly not a white piece of yuppie garbage such as myself. The thing is, I misunderstood the words and thought that he was saying "everything is everything." For some reason, this seemed so profound to me, and I opened my eyes and whispered, "everything IS everything!" In my drunken/high state of mind, this made perfect sense to me and even seemed to calm me, like everything was going to be alright after all. Everything in life is everything, and it's all relative and all so insignificant. I can't really put what I felt into words. I stumbled out of the bathroom, urine all over my pants, with this creepy, all-knowing grin on my face. I went to the kitchen, told some girl that she looked like a hispanic pumpkin, got another beer, and then slowly made my way over to the stereo, eager to start the track over so I can hear the Wu-Tang's words of infinite wisdom once more. I stared at the stereo receiver, nodding my head to the beat, trying to figure out what model receiver it was. Sony something. I couldn't make any sense of it. Forget it. I looked at the 100-disc changer below the receiver, trying to figure out which button to press. I started jabbing at the buttons, accidentaly skipping to the next disc, which was Dave Matthews Band or some bullshit. Such an inappropriate change of songs. "Yo what the fuck man? We was listenin to that!" said this black guy sitting on a couch, his arm around a sexy, barely dressed woman. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry Tyrese...I just...I just am trying...I'm trying...chill, chill man it's cool...go back to your prostitute man." Thank god he couldn't hear a drunken word I was saying, as the music drowned out all of my blather. I quickly figured out how to go back to the last disc and the right track, and he seemed satisfied and quickly lost interest in me. I stood there, in my moment of spiritual clarity, eager to hear these brilliant words again. Wait a minute, he said "anything," not "everything." What the fuck does that mean? "Anything is anything?" My buzz of enlightenment quickly turned into a cloud of confusion and disappointment. 'Maybe I can find someone with pills,' I thought. I tried for a while, but failed. So I sat on the couch, trying to make sense of these lyrics which I thought meant so much. I began to take them apart.

'I guess by "anything is anything," he's talking about the urban mentality where money is so difficult to get that you have to be willing to do anything within your power to attain it, even hustle or sell drugs or steal. He's hinting at a major issue, where kids in the ghetto have no viable choices to earn money, where the choice to either make a ton of money selling drugs or make next to nothing working a shitty job at McDonald's is an easy choice to make. To survive in the hood you have to be absolutely ruthless and do what it takes to get that cream. It's a tragedy really, and there's no simple solution...Maybe I should've actually listened to the rest of the lyrics in the song instead of just making its opening words a misunderstood novelty.'

I thought about it for hours, before waking up a couple of hours later to the sight of a floor littered with sleeping bodies and beer bottles, finding myself snuggled up next to the black guy that I called Tyrese, who was passed out next to his whory-looking lady friend. I sighed, and snuggled closer to his leather Fubu jacket, falling back asleep to dream of sugar plums and sports cars.

2003 was a dangerous, sad, hilarious year for me. I look forward to seeing what 2004 brings. I'm hoping either a) the downfall of humanity, or b) even better mobile phone technology. Speaking of which, I had the most surreal experience last week, before Christmas, on the train. I was on my way to work, fiddling with my new Palm Tungsten C PDA that I bought myself as an early Christmas present, and this guy who was sitting across the aisle and one seat ahead of me was talking loudly on his cell phone. Typical southwestern Connecticut/NYC asshole, in his suit, with his briefcase and newspaper spread all over the seat, taking up the two seats next to him. And he's talking about some business dinner he had the other night, and the so and so account and money and equities and bonds and such and such and he's so fucking loud that even I, who has contempt for almost all living things (except for my kitty), think he's an asshole. Everyone else on the train was pretending to ignore him. I glared at him for a few minutes, then looked back down at my PDA and started giggling at the hilarious japanese porno clip I had loaded onto it that morning. Suddenly, I heard a loud crashing sound followed by his awful screams, and I looked up to see the man clutching the side of his face, screaming and sobbing. His cell phone was now on the floor, broken from being thrown to the ground. I started laughing and clapping my hands as I watched him continue to scream and thrash about, with everyone else in the train car gasping, not knowing what to do. Apparently the asshole's cell phone battery shorted out or blew up or something, burning his ear and part of his cheek. Needless to say, we were stopped at the next train station for a while, and the man was escorted off of the train with some paramedics that had been alerted. The rest of the day was pretty uninteresting. I got to work about half an hour late, but no one seemed to notice. The weirdest part, and I'm not entirely sure if this happened or not, was that there was a news crew waiting at my train station that night, hoping to catch some of the morning commuters who had witnessed the exploding cell phone incident. I walked over there and told the news crew that I was right next to the guy when it happened. "Stop listening to this boob," I said, pointing to the weird-looking guy that they were videotaping, "I was sitting right next to the guy. I saw the whole thing. Na'mean?" The cameraman looked puzzled. He looked over at the female news anchor, who nodded to him, and then he turned and started videotaping me. The ugly boob walked away, disappointed. "Sir, can you please tell us your name and give us your account of what happened this morning on the 8:15 Metro-North train?" Suddenly, I felt compelled to become someone else. Maybe it was the hoodlum off in the distance and his hot Johnny Blaze jacket that inspired me...I don't know. But I felt the need to not be myself for this interview. "Yeah, I can tell you what happened," I said to her, "It went down like this. Uh, oh and my name's Jamal Walker Jones. So, I was sittin there, watchin my japanese boobie videos on my palm pilot, and this muthafucka is talking all loudly on his phone. You know what I'm sayin?" I saw the newscaster flinch when I said a bad word, but for some reason she didn't interrupt me. "And he's talkin mad loud about shit no one cares about, but like, he tries to make it everyone else's business, na'mean? He's all talkin about dollars and shit and really just being par-ti-cu-lar-ly [I say it slowly, as if it's difficult for me to say] shitty about the whole thang. Know what I'm sayin? And all of the sudden, I hear this loud noise, and look over and see this guy all buggin out and screamin like a little bitch, son. I mean, this muthafucka is screamin like he got his dick bit off or some shit like that. So, like, his cell phone like blew up in his face, and that's why he was screamin! HAHAHA! Them shits was sooooo funny, you know what I'm sayin? And he's screamin and cryin, and clutchin his horribly dis-fig-ured face and everyone's starin at him, and I'm all laughin and watching my japanese bukkake videos on my palm pilot. Them shits was a RIOT, son. So, that's ba-si-ca-lly what happened, and it is definately one of my top-ten movie moments of 2003, you know what I'm sayin? HA!" The news anchor woman stood there, her mouth agape, staring at me in disbelief. I thought she was going to tell me to fuck off for wasting her time, but something about my performance must have impressed her, and she said, "Um..well, uh, thank you...Jamal..." and then looked at her cameraman and nodded, and they both walked away. A small crowd of people had gathered around me, and suddenly I didn't know what to do or say, and the only thing that came out was "Uh....yo that new Peter Pan movie looks fucking GAY, son!" and I just stood there and waited for my train to arrive. Strangely, I couldn't find myself on the news that night, and none of my friends could either. I'm not even sure what network the news team was from, or if they even existed at all.