"Farmingdale The Real LI: JD's Return Home"

On Wednesday afternoon, I returned to Chambersburg, Pennsylvania an alcoholic. Well, not entirely, but sure enough I drank myself into a stupor during my short tenure in Farmingdale, New York. I made up with some people, ate a lot of food, drank a lot of beer, and uh...played a lot of Table Tennis on X-Box 360. One thing I did not do was write, I couldn't get into it. I talked to a lot of people on the computer late at night, but it wasn't for long, because I was usually wasted when this happened, and I'd pass out watching back-logged episodes of The Sopranos.

I'm going to go into a basis of what actually happened while I was on Long Island.

Friday May 26th 2006 - 6:30 PM.

Me and my father arrived on Long Island late friday evening to find the grass in front of my house about four feet tall, because my realitor (Larry Theodore is a fuckface asshole) didn't tell anyone in my house (in Pennsylvania, it's a short phone call away) that the front yard made it look like a half-way house for stoners and drunks. So, upon arrival we immediately decided to start mowing and stop talking. One front lawn done and half a backyard done later, and I was on my way to McDonalds to pick up food.

8:30 PM.

McDonalds on PA suck, but they're quicker than Long Island, but Long Island McDonalds have more stuff like (4-Piece Nuggets for a Dollar). In McDonalds I look like a scruffy asshole, dirty, and sweaty, and pissed the fuck off at how long of a wait this is. Finally I get my food, and storm out of McDonalds.

9:30 PM.

I arrive back to the F'Dale House, and I chow down, because I hadn't eaten all day aside from some potato chips (that were completed on Tuesday May 30th). My Dad was weeding the front garden, which is something that is not my forte, so I eat and eat until my food is gone. My Dad comes inside eats, and he takes a seat in one the chairs in the empty house, and I take the other, and we begin drinking. 6 Beers later, I'm calling Jewish to see where the fuck he's at, because I want to go get drunk at Applebees. Before this, however, I spoke to Conroy, who said that he'll go, so Jewish doesn't want to go so early (it was around 10:30ish or so..Conroy gets off at 12). I say, Whatever, and I go back to drinking.

11:15 PM

I'm obliterated at this point, and I'm exhausted, my body hurts, and I have sunburn, but I'm so trashed that it doesn't matter. I've got nine beers, three orders of 4-Piece Nuggets, and two Cheeseburgers in my stomach. I'm good as gold.


12:15 AM - May 27th 2006.

At the Bar, I'm pretty fucking wasted, and I believe that everyone can tell. I am paranoid. I order two more beers (it's two-fers) and I down those fairly rapidly, I'm even more drunk than before, Conroy and Conroy's Girlfriend show up. I continue drinking because Conroy's girlfriend and Conroy don't eat/drink, they just consume endless amounts of water. This bothers me.

For some reason, I order two more beers, and chicken wings, and french fries. I get Honey Mustard on my shirt, and it pisses me off, but I'm so drunk that I don't remember til the next morning.

8:30 AM May 27th 2006.

I feel like death, is what rings through my mind after eleven beers, McDonalds, Boneless Bufallo wings, and French Fries. My dad wants to go somewhere, Home Depot or something, since apparently in my drunken stupidity I lost the lock to the back shed, which had a house key, and a key to that shed. Luckily as I was drunkenly looking for this key (before I left for AppleBees) Juan Nunez arrived home and gave me the spare key so that I could get into my house later in the night.

We got to National Wholesale Liquidators, and I'm feeling like total ass. The place reeks of Indian, and I know that sounds bad, but it's ridiculously true. I feel the beer shits coming on, make my dad pay for his Miracle Grow and whatever else, and we go to Home Depot in Farmingdale where I feel the Bathroom is sanitary enough for Human usage. I think I forced people out of the bathroom with this, because when I got in there, and began to unleash the most brutal and devastating shit that has ever left my body, people would walk in and quickly leave coughing heavily. I stand proud now.

Inside Home Depot, people with orange aprons ask me if I need help, I keep telling them that I need a key made, they keep point me forward, which is where I keep going, but people keep asking me questions. I hate home depot, yet I love it at the same time. I finally get my key made by a guy who's name I can't remember, and he wasn't happy about the fact that he had to do something. It was either that or I reeked of booze.

We get home, I take some aspirin and drink a soda, my head hurts, but I push on, I must do work - I will not quit. I refill the lawnmower with gasoline, and I mow on for what seems like hours, but was really like an hour and ten minutes, it took that long because the grass was up to my hip. I finish that, weedwhack the shit out of the the stuff that's sticking up. Then we work on emptying the filty, disgusting, green water pool that sits in my former backyard. There's bugs floating inside, and old baseballs, and random shit in there. I still cannot believe my father stuck his hands inside to jimmy the hose so the pump would do it's fucking job. Finally the pool is pumping like hell and the water is leaving the pool more rapidly than it entered it.

4:30 PM.

My Dad tells me I'm finished doing work, but I don't know why, so I keep working, cleaning up the patio and shit, and finally I decide that I am finished. My dad is weeding the garden or pulling Hastas from the garden, this is something I want no part of. So I take a shower, and run to Pete's grab a Turker BL (minus the Tomato) on a hero, and a Roast Beef with everything, and bring them home eat my sandwich, take a shower, and head out to Jewish's house in the rental truck. I go inside, say hello to his crazy family and then we depart, we got to the Sunrise Mall. The Sunrise Mall, which is now the Westfield Sunrise Mall or whatever, still sucks. You can't just throw couches in a mall and expect it to be fantastic. We go to GameStop in there where Jewish works, and talk to the nerds for a minute or two. I grab a soda from the Hagaandas people for 75 cents. They get pissed because I give them a five, and they crumple my 3 dollars up (Fuck you Hagaandas!). Jewish is looking for shorts, because he ripped a hole in the ass of his favorite shorts and we go in Macys, and it's occurred to me that I have never been in this store - save for going to see Eileen, who didn't happen to know I was stalking her.

Then we're at Serious Comics, which is like my favorite fucking place in the world. I can't even begin to explain how much I love this comic book store. I buy a few books Marvel Zombies and Marvel Civil War (Capt. America goes rogue bitches), and I leave on good terms with Chris the Comic guy. Not that I was ever on bad terms.

We hit up Toys R' Us, for no reason, and Jewish, of course, has to check the game deals. So that takes a few minutes, and I put in a call to TMK, who at this point should be awake it's about Six at Night. He answers, we talk and I decide I'm going to head over there, Jewish tags along.

6:30 PM

I phone Marcel before arriving at TMK's to ask him what's going on tonight, because he claimed there was going to be drinking involved. He says something about London Pub and I say, "Call me when you wake up from your Nap." I arrive at TMK's, we talk, we skate around sensitive subjects, we're friends again, sort-of, and we decide we're going to pregame at his house.

7:15 PM

I take Jewish to the Liquor store to buy liquor and he buys a small bottle of Jim Beam Whiskey and Sweet and Sour mix, I'm not sure what he's planning to do with these objects. I drop him off, and I go to the Farmingdale House to take a shit, and down a few beers before getting scooped by TMK to pregame at his house. He gets to my house, we scoop up an 18 pack and we head to Jewish's house, scoop him up, and get to TMK's house at 8:15.
At 8:45 Marcel calls me to tell me we're taking the something-something train to New York City, I tell him that I don't plan on going to the city, he tells me that he'll call if anything changes. He never calls back.

9:30 PM
In about an hour and a half, TMK and I have drank an 18 pack by playing Beer Pong, I don't believe I won a game during our contests, but I was fucking wasted. We decide we need a ride to the bar, because stupidly we're going to London Pub because they have beer pong.

10:15 PM
There's no ride to be had, we called everyone from Theresa to Conroy's Girlfriend and no one would give us a ride. So, Matthies calls a cab and it comes and takes us to the bar, we pay the guy, it's like 26 bucks or so. Jewish is so trashed off his his whiskey sours, we're suprised he's still awake in the car. He was very adament about not taking a cab anywhere, because he doesn't have any money (although, his little card thing from GameStop has over two-grand because he spends no money...you JEW bastard.) and we get to the London Pub.

10:30 PM

I'm immediately dissapointed in Jewish because he makes me walk him to 7-11 to get Money. I buy Hot Dogs and make Jewish buy two Bud Light Tall boys. I drink most of mine, and Jewish barely takes three sips, before throwing it over a fence at Dairy Barn. I'm immediately dissapointed again, inside London Pub because this place sucks a big fat dick. It's the worst dive bar I have ever seen. I get a beer, down it, and get another one. I play TMK in darts, only to find out that I suck at darts. Jewish is so drunk that when he plays darts against TMK he can barely stand, and keep's licking his fingers for some reason.

12:30 AM May 28th 2006. Sundays

These morons who are friend's with the bar people want to play us in Beer Pong, since they now set it up. These guys aren't trashed, but I am definitely feeling pretty wasted, and can barely keep my head up. We beat them in beer pong, twice. Conroy and His Girlfriend show up, I make Conroy hold my glasses. Jewish stabs Conroy's Girlfriend in the arm with a steak knife trying to ...cut off a birth mark of some kind, Conroy says he feels like ass so he wants to leave, I get my sunglasses back and they leave, taking Jewish with them. Immediately I know we're screwed to all hell. I keep drinking.

1:30 AM

Two new guys come to the beer pong table, as we're just drinking ourselves stupid, with two pitchers..I don't know why, but they insist that we use this entire pitcher to fill up our cups. I think this is a bad idea, but go forth. After we lose this game, we realize the chick that is with them is Tara Ackerman, whom I despise for no good reason, she doesn't recognize me (Thank you, Good Lord,) and I watch as many people leave the bar, leaving only me and TMK. I decide that I have to take a shit, rather than hold it and wait for a ride.

3:30 AM

I come outside feeling lighter, and sit on the bench next to TMK, who says that we have no ride. I knew this was going to happen, so I call everyone in my phone trying to acquire a ride. I call Marcel, whom is in the city still. He apologizes because the city sucks, and he would've rather stayed on Long Island. Karma bit Marcel on the ass, because he had to work at 8 that morning and missed his train and couldn't get the next one until 5:15 am. I talk to Conroy who claims that he's dying, I don't believe him. He's a pussy. I talk to random people, TMK calls Jessica, and Martin Sheen (Har-Har), and they both say "No." TMK then walks over to the bagel shop, sits down on a bench and proceeds to stick his finger down his throat, which results in a massive river of vomit.

I call a taxi, and tell them that I only have 20 bucks, and live in Farmingdale and we need a ride, terribly bad. The taxi guy says he'll drop us off at Fallwood Parkway, I say thank you. The Taxi shows up, I shove TMK in the cab and climb in. The driver says they have to pick up two more. The dude comes in the back, and TMK passes out. I try not to talk to him, because he looks like a loser. The Girl isn't any better, and she's not hot, and she's spewing this random garbage from her mouth and it makes me want to punch her in the mouth.

They get dropped off the taxi guy says something and I Ignore him. We get dropped off at Fallwood, the Taxi driver yells at TMK to get out of the cab, I pull him out and the drive peels out. Before this Billy's dad had been calling a lot - it was kind of funny actually - because his dad came and got him not even halfway to his house from fallwood. I call Marcel again, and his train had still not arrived, I leave a mean message for Jewish and then I go inside and pass out on a blow up mattress in a very air-conditioned house.

8:30 AM

I wake up at 8:30AM, because my Dad is leaving, I'm staying at Jewish's house for a few days longer, because I want to spend some time on the Island so my dad is driving back. I help him load up a little. I say goodbye, and he leaves, I take another shit, and pass out. Jewish calls me at 2pm and asks me where the hell I am, I tell him I'm sleeping. He says we were suppose to do garage sales, and I say 'My Bad' and he says he'll come by to get me and my shit, and we'll go to GameStop's looking for DVDs.

2:30 PM.

Jewish gets to my house, and I've taken a shower, done my deal and packed up most of my shit. Then this lady comes up asking if she can look at the house (since it's for sale). I tell her that she has to go to the Realty, but I let her look anyway. Then her husband comes in, and he looks around, and he talks about the price and basically badmouths the house. Instead of beating the holy hell out of him, I pretty much ignore him, because he's a cockface moron. We leave, and I'm tired, hung over, and I feel like total ass.

We travel to Random GameStops, and I grab a copy of The L Word Season 2 for 25 bucks, and a copy of Life as We Know it for 16.99. I score.

We get to Jewish's house later that night and Jewish's mother makes awesome hamburgers and these Sausages, Kelbasa I believe. And I eat, and eat. Then we go to his room play some Table Tennis on X-Box 360, I make some calls, see what the shit is going on. TMK calls me and says he wants to play Poker at his house. I tell him I'm broke, and he suggests we not play for money. I have to mention that Jewish sucks the fun out of everything. He just doesn't play the whole competitive thing well and ruins stuff that's not really a sport. Poker, Mini-Golf, Bowling. These things will never be the same.

Jewish wins at Poker, and we decide that we want to go to White Castle. I've become obsessed with yelling "YOU WILL FACE JUSTICE" which is a popular Jack Bauer saying from 24. I've also become obsessed with Nick Lachey's most recent song "What's Left of Me." Therefore I continuously request this song, and scream this phrase at anyone I possibly can.

1:30AM May 29th 2006.

White Castle is Awesome.

12:30 PM May 29th 2006.

It's Memorial Day, and we go somewhere, I think looking for Garage sales or something, but there's crap everywhere, and it sucks. We go to Bobs, where Jewish is like a woman picking out shorts. I continue requesting Nick Lachey, and screaming You Will Face Justice at everyone (and getting really good at Keifer-voice). We go to Wendy's we eat, and then we go to Target with Jewish's Mom, Aunt, and Little Brother (whom is the Devil's child). He wants a bicycle, he wants a bicycle, he wants a bicycle....SHUT UP! I don't get anything at Target, but we got BJ's where I buy a lot of beer, 36 beers for 20.99 to be exact. I confer with TMK over this situation, and he says that he'll drink a lot. I already, at this point, decided I was going to force Conroy to drink a lot. I call Theresa and invite her over to Jewish's house for the little shindig, whereas we'll be playing Beer Pong and drinking til we can't drink anymore.

8:30 PM.

Jewish had purchased a mixture of Mike's liquors, because he's a little girl and can't drink beer. (" I don't like the taste of beer.." Fag.) Theresa actually plays beer pong on Billy's side after Jewish had enough of pouring his Mike's Hard crap into cups, Theresa man's up and drinks beer, it's cool. Team Demroy get's their respective asses handed to them ...forever. I don't think we won a single game. I know that I defeated TMK in the first game of Six Cup, so that we could drink the beer warm if the cooler didn't cool.

2:30 AM. Tuesday Morning May 30th.

The night finally ends, and I proceed to play Table Tennis and talk online, Jewish passes out but I stay up until whenever, five am, or so talking and watching television.

01:15 PM Tuesday.

The day before we were offered tickets to a Mets Braves game, but we were surprised in knowing that they were actually playing the Arizona Diamondbacks, if this information was known before saying yes, and if Jewish knew anything, we would've been at my house on Tuesday morning.

7:30 PM.

The game is awful, we sit next to these two morons who keep saying fuck a lot, which doesn't bother me, but it bothers the father of the kid sitting diagnally from them. I keep yelling that the Mets will face Justice, but they still suck. They lose by a lot, and Miguel Batista pitches a Complete Game, and Lastings Milledge sucks.

9:30-10PM

Jewish and myself arrive at a 711 in North Massapequa, we buy Hot Dogs, and eat them in his car, and then return to his home, I play 2K6 baseball against some moron from Oregon, and he beats my ass. I then switch over to Table Tennis and start winning again.

3:30 AM Wednesday May 31st.

Jewish decides to crash, and I stay up watching back episodes of this season of the Sopranos and talking to people online. Finally around 6AM I pass out.


11:30 AM

It's way to early, and my brain hurts, but it's time to leave Long Island to return home to Chambersburg PA, which sucks, I know, but I missed my bed and my television and my computer.

2:30 PM

After weird trips to Jersey for EB Games, and Gamestops, we arrive at probably the best McDonalds...ever. It was clean, the food was awesome, I was thoroughly pleased.

We get gas at some weird place, (I learn that you're not allowed to pump your own gas in New Jersey) and continue to look for GameStops, but Jewish's adventurous streak has ended and he doesn't want to go anywhere or looking for anything, so I pass out and wake up an hour later, sneezing my balls off because of the airconditioner in Jewish's car.

6:30PM

The Prodigal son returns home, a short trip to Wal-Mart to greet my brother happens, and then I return home, see my Pops and my grandma, my mother is working, and we hang out downstairs for a while, and then we eat Pot Roast, my father is an awesome cool. There's some interesting gaps in time here, I can't remember what we did, Jewish is a nerd, and watched MythBusters for a while, I talked on the computer, got reaquainted with my computer, and then we started drinking Whiskey Sours.

11:15 PM

Halfway into Just Friends my brother arrives, and begins watching (he's already seen it.) It might be the liquor but that movie was awesome, awesome.

2:00 AM. Thursday June 1st

We get a little buzzed, finally I get up, take a shower, and hit the sack, because I'm fucking exhausted, my brother hits the sack a little while after that, and Jewish passed out on an air mattress.

9AM

I feel like death, my brain is like mush, and my Pops keeps calling me to go Strawberry picking. Yay. Myself, Jewish, and my Pops go and pick strawberries. I don't like strawberries as much as the normal person. I mean, I like them, but I'm not...really into picking my own fruit.

11:AM

We get home, and my brother gets up and asks if I want to go to the Hagerstown Suns game. I oblige...saying sure, but that means I have to go to work early...at 2, which means, I had to get ready right there.

2:17 PM

I arrive at work, and I sign in, and fax over some information to my boss, so that I get paid for whatever I worked. I hate my job. I work at fucking Sears.

4:30 PM

I'm really hungry, I haven't eaten all day, and there's a McDonalds outside the mall. Once again, I am really hungry. I eat two double cheese burgers, medium fries and a drink, and then I split, decide that I don't want to work anymore and go home, but I don't tell anyone, so I still get paid for four hours of nothingness.

6:35 PM

We arrive at the Hagerstown Suns game, and we meet some of the players, get some autographs, and I just immediately go and get drunk. I find the beer, and buy four, because they're a dollar, and go back to the seat and start drinking like it's my job. Then...it starts fucking raining. They didn't even complete the damn inning. I'm soaken wet, drunk, and continuing to drink. I'm don't let things like weather stop me from drinking. The game gets called, we get Mitch Einerston's (sp?) autograph. Drunkenly I sign onto Ebay.com and buy an autographed card for 4 dollars.

7:55 PM.

In the car ride home, I get a call from my boss, and he calmly explains that they're going to let me go from my job. I'm drunk.

Here's the thing with this: The store that I work in is in the Chambersburg, PA Mall, it sucks, and it's...90 percent of the time dead. I never imagined it would be this hard to give something away free to redneck morons, but it's hard when there's no one around.

He tells me that I should transfer to Lawn and Garden, because I told him previously that I was thinking about doing this, it's less money, but at least I'll get paid. I tell him, I'll talk to them ..whenever. I think this is really the reason behind me getting fired, this little incident where I let this slip. Fuck him, I don't care.

At home I tell my parents, and surprisingly they're not upset, my dad's actually happy, but wants me to get a real job.

My brother and Jewish drink, I sit at the computer for a while talking to people, and yelling at others, I take a shower and go to bed.

11AM Friday June 2nd

Jewish departs, I send him off, and I pass out before I have to go to work. I wake up, and decide to fuck work, I don't want to go. I just got 'fired' even though I didn't really get fired yet. I go garage sale(ing) with my dad and grandmother and buy this Shaq card for three bucks, and it's worth 25. I come home, watch When a Stranger Calls, fast foward through the non-speaking parts til the last 16 minutes when the real shit happens, bring it back, and rent London with Jessica Biel.

Kill. (a repost)

Sometimes, I sit around, and I think about losing someone. I've lost someone, a friend, a loved one, I think about really letting that effect me. It would hurt a lot, I wouldn't be able to function. You know you get the whole Christmas Carol thing going then, like "What would people do if I killed myself?" or "What would happened if I just got up and left one day?" Would people really care? Would you become a legend, or just a folklore? To sum it up, this is your fucking life, who do you want to be? Are you who are you want to be? If it's over for you?It's funny, I don't know who I am...I mean, I know my name, and my birthday, and my social security number, but who am I exactly? I'm not going to get into it. Was my life worth it? Did I make the grade? Did I make a difference in anyone's life? Probably not, but not everyone's life is meaningful.

The town I live in, the memories that I have, good and bad, mostly bad, but some good as well, the friends I have, and the friends I've had. The people I hate, and the people I can bear. Sometimes, I can't understand people, and the friends I'm with, we don't do normal things, we don't have decent relationships with each other, we're like co-workers without the titles.Somewhere down the line, you have to cross a bridge, or for someone who's got bridge-0-phobia, walk across a street, a side street. Get to that other side, and leave everything behind, because that's what you have to do, if you want to become who you're destined to be. People will only drag you down, and losses will do the same, cut your losses, cut your ties, everyone who is sucessful is bound to be a loner for sometime before they find that one person who understands.

That one person who understands everything that's foretold in your mine, the memories that you have back in the depths of your mind, that you'll never retrieve, because even now, you can't recall.

You'll wake up one day, and just laugh. You'll cackle to yourself, and your wife or husband will ask you, "What's so funny?" and you'll have no idea, you were dreaming of your past life and now you can't remember what that dream was about. You lie back down, smiling, because somewhere deep in your heart, you know whatever it was, whatever that dream was about, it was hilarious.

Clandestine...

"I regret to inform you that I cannot recall the sound of your voice. There are such things that I can recall such as: your face, and your smell. The smell of a bellowing fireplace, and a cheap perfume that lingers throughout an empty house in suburbia. Your face; wonderful and forgiving. I apologize, for I cannot remember why I left, or where the house was; or your name. It pains me to realize that I’ve lost you, because I believe you are the woman I am to be with for my eternal life, but circumstances have taken hold and removed me from your life."

* * *

In a time of crisis, you usually grab hold of something and don’t let go. You grip the steering wheel of your car after an accident in a state of disbelief. When the victim of the accident lay on the ground forty feet from the broken windshield that he’d flown through; you grip tightly.
Relax. Breathe. Wake up. It’s a dream. It’s a very vividly realistic dream with a side of fright and horror. You have dreams like this all the time. You can’t sleep through them. You’ve grown accustomed to them through the eleven hours of sleep you’ve had in the past sixteen days. That means - think about it - that technically for five days, you didn’t sleep at all. One hundred and twenty hours - actually one hundred and four - that you’ve had the opportunity to sleep.

It’s Clandestine - the friend …the friend in your head - who’s keeping you awake. You can’t take it. She tells you to watch QVC and buy a sheepskin jacket, that in thirty-six days; eight hundred sixty-four hours, you won’t wear.

Clandestine is an inoperable brain tumor that you can’t get over. Besides that you’re going to die from it. This tumor, this cancerous brain tumor - is going to end your already short life.
You’re in a fog, maybe it’s the valium, maybe it’s the coke or the ecstasy. You can’t figure it, Clandestine explains it to you: “It’s the extent of which you’ve forgotten your place in life.”
You don’t know what she means, you don’t understand. This you tell her, this you say aloud. She says: “Energy. Eat leaves of grass and mud. You’ll be fine.” God forbid you get yourself together and block the mysterious voice of your brain tumor out of your head. God forbid, you actually eat grass or mud and in return; obtain energy. You need to see the Red Eyed Albino.

The Rhibino you call him, pronounced Rye-Bye-No, but it’s valium induced and originally the words of a doped up sixteen year old prostitute, who was buying smack off of the Albino. She told him; “You look like a Rhibino.”

You laughed, the Rhibino laughed, and the sixteen year old prostie laughed - got her smack; and over paid.


Just something I scribbled down on a slip of paper one day...and now typed up.

Revenge of the Sith (the review from May '05)

So, here I was sitting in a fairly packed Loews multiplex theatre, a cold Budweiser in my hand, and I was contemplating life - then for a moment things stopped, the world around me didn't matter; and for the first time in my life I let the nerd in me show. Star Wars III: Return of the Sith's opening montage - similar to that of the last five films, ran vertically down the screen - I got goosebumps - and I don't know why.

My entire life, I've sworn to only like the first three films, Star Wars, Empire Strikes Back, and Return of the Jedi. Sure, I personally don't enjoy the company of an Ewok Party, but...whatever. Sith comes on with a wicked battle scene, Anakin's all over the fucking place shooting things, things are getting attached to Obi-Wan's cruiser and R2-D2 is beeping up a mother fucking storm. They're on their way to rescue the Senator from Dooku and...inevitably murder him. Anakin's becoming darker scene by scene.

However, after watching the first three movies, you come to believe that Darth Vader is the crown -mother fucking- prince of Evil...after watching this movie you feel for the guy, you feel for a guy who gets burnt the hell up and after all that happens to him, the thing he wanted; doesn't fucking happen. Boo Fucking Hoo, right? This guy chopped off Luke's hand, then says that he's his father...pulls of his fucking mast to show a disheveled looking mother fucker with the voice of James Earl Jones....Empire did have the better ended, it had a lot of shit going on, Hans getting frozen - etc.

However...this movie, this Revenge of the Sith flick was something that I unexpectedly enjoyed the hell out of. I went to the movie expecting dissapointment as the last two prequels did just that - dissapointed me. Sith, however, didn't. It was one of those things, like ..."Now, I can go on with my life" the Star Wars universe has finally been completed, Vader is mad, Luke and Leia are born, Obi-Wan and Yoda go into Exile while Organa takes Leia..

Then there's Skywalker, Luke mother fucking Skywalker, sure, we know Luke and Han pine over Leia until Luke finds out a trivial fact, that Leia is his sibling...and an annoying one at that. Luke is going to be the best Jedi ever, just like his father - whom he doesn't know, but helping the Jedi defeat Vader is something he's going to do...then the pivotal scene in which Vader pulls off his lid to reveal a crusty old version of Anakin Skywalker, aka Lord Darth Vader ...complete with the burn marks given to him via Revenge of the Sith - care of Obi-Wan.

Back to Sith though, because I'm straying off topic slightly...Sith is the Godfather II of the Star Wars universe - it's almost that good, there's some things I'd want to see more of, like C3-PO and R2D2...As I told Marcel, Everyone has a friend like R2D2...Worried, afraid, but clutch under pressure. He beeps a lot, and apparently someone understands him, like C3-PO, so they have to be together, rather than on seperate ends of the spectrum. It's similar to that of Chewbacca's relationship with Han Solo - who the fuck knows what that damn Wookie is saying, but Han? No one, he could be saying we're all going to die in a matter of minutes, but no one cares, we just want to hear that Wookie bastard moan his glorious language - Speaking of Wookie's, there's some in Sith namely Chewy, who's in it for a brief period and shares screentime with Yoda.

In Clerk's Dante says that all Jedi had was a bunch of muppets, that Empire had the better ending, well, I agree, but then you have to look at Sith. Sith was dark as hell, it was evil even, kids are killed by the Darkside, under-water battles...shit man, the movie had everything, but tits, if it had tits it would've been a ten, but since it didn't...hell it's a nine point five.



This was something I wrote a long while ago, and I suppose put on my Xanga.com/blanklyput site. I don't remember, but I enjoyed reading it again, so I decided I'd post it. You'll get the other story as soon as I fucking...locate it.

JD

Easing into things...

This is something that I wrote, just now, just because it rolled off the tongue, just because I liked the way it sounded in my head. It's just because.


"I regret to inform you that I cannot recall the sound of your voice. There are such things that I can recall such as: your face, and your smell. The smell of a bellowing fireplace, and a cheap perfume that lingers throughout an empty house in suburbia. Your face; wonderful and forgiving. I apologize, for I cannot remember why I left, or where the house was; or your name. It pains me to realize that I’ve lost you, because I believe you are the woman I am to be with for my eternal life, but circumstances have taken hold and removed me from your life."

It's the intro for something a little different, I penned not too long ago....that's going to get posted here, when I find the hand written scraps that I originally penned it on. Thank you, and goodnight.

The Unknowing Son of an Unknowing Man.

So this girl is going down on me, it’s taking some pressure pain that I have, away. This happens on a basketball court in Queens, and I’m not sure who the girl is and it’s pretty dark outside. I’m in a drunken stupor and I slur something to her, that I don’t even recognize. The ground is beginning to stick my bare back and making small indentations. She finishes and swallow, this I could not believe, and walks away giggling like a school girl. I sit up, watching a what looks like a bareback Gorilla run away. Fucking Christ. I pull my hooded sweatshirt back over my head and plug the IPOD back into my ears. A song about Jesus rings through my brain until morning when the vibration of the court awakes me and a large, frightening looking, black guy is standing over me.

“You are one sick mother fucker,” he says to me.
“What happened?” I say, pulling the head phones from my ears.
“You fucking passed out on the basketball court with your pants open, white boy, you lucky you wasn’t raped or some shit.”
“Jesus Fuck,” I stammer and zip my pants up.
I stand up, pushing the hood back, the sun glares upon my face like a scolding parent. I look at the clock at a nearby bank.
“Man, it’s fucking 8:30 in the morning,” I say, rubbing my eyes.
“Yeah bro, this is a basketball team. You need to step.”

I nod, and walk out the gate exiting onto the side walk. I sit down on a bench and pull a pack of Marlboro Lights from my back pocket and stick one into my mouth and light it with the cigarette within the package. I take a drag and lean back, tired. I’m sure I’m in Queens, but where in Queens is the question. I’m sure it’s like a Tuesday or Wednesday, so I’m probably missing some type of physics class. I’m sure that black guy would’ve kicked my ass if my fly wasn’t down. It seemed like he felt bad for me.

* * *

I’m standing at my dorm room door, there’s a clip on it, a hair clip. I haven’t seen it before, and my roommate is away on vacation in Hades or Yemen or some place where they mate goats as thoroughbreds. I’m still examining the clip, and remove it from the handle and pull it up to my face, the cigarette still hanging from my lips, the ash growing and growing begging to flicked off. Then it happens, the door opens and there is a guy standing there, wearing a football jersey, a black and gold football jersey, with nothing on the bottom half of his body.

“Alright,” looking away, I think for a moment. “Honestly, I have two questions.”
“Go ahead,” the below-waist-naked man says.
“Who are you? And why are you naked in my room?” I ask, looking at the ceiling.
“I’m Clyde, and I can’t find my pants,” the guy says.
“One more question, if you wouldn’t mind?” I ask.
“Nah, go ahead.”
“Why are you in my fucking room?”
“Oh, I don’t know, some real skinny bitch dragged me in here, and tied me to a bed post, sucked me off and left, I couldn’t get loose, I had to rip the bed post off. I think she stole my pants,” he says, looking back into the room.
“Veronica…”


Veronica was a first semester triumph of mine. Along with Veronica was Valerie. DV, I called them, for “Double V” or V One and V Two. It was slightly complicated, but if my phone began to ring in the dorm room I could have my roommate pick it up, and say V One or V Two and then I would know if I wanted to speak with them or not.

I fell in love with Veronica the first day I saw her in Oral Communications, mainly because she had a knack for Orally Communicating with me. Strange as that sounds, she’s a very articulate speaker. I mean, if you’re going to take Oral Comm at least be: good at speaking. I’m very diligent at getting something down, so I had her over every day teaching me how to properly say verisimilitude. I don’t know what the word means, but coming from her mouth, it was like: she was already dick diving and I was the treasure at the bottom of the ocean. She had the firmest lips, but the softest and when she had them around me, I knew that I had her sole attention.

Anyway, shit hit the fan, so to speak. I found Valerie in a very gay Theatre History class. Valerie found out about Veronica and Veronica found out about Valerie in the strangest of ways: ménage trois. Simply speaking, a three some with two girls and me, fucking me. It was like I had died and gone to Penthouse headquarters. There was anal, and oral and kissing and hickeys and feet. I’m not sure why there was feet really involved, but I wasn’t up for arguing really. After all was said and done, I had a girl under each arm, I was sweating, breathing heavily. And almost simultaneously they asked:

“How do you know her?”

I didn’t know how to respond to the situation, so I calmly said, with a little bit of a laugh: “I’m kind of seeing you both.”

They both get out of bed, and begin putting their clothes on.

“Whoa, where are you guys going? It’s like three am,” I say quickly.
“Both of us?!” they both scream at nearly the same time.
“Hey, you know, you both have something that the other does have. That’s why I did it,” I say, regretting it almost immediately.
“Like what?” Valerie asks.
“Well, you have a little more meat on you than Veronica, I’m not saying you’re fat, because you’re most definitely not, but Veronica is just so damn thin, like screwing a broad who’s anorexic.”

A loud bang goes off in my head, and I believe it’s my conscience that’s calling me
an asshole. I sit there, and watch as the sculpture’s of nakedness are fully clothed.

* * *

The next day, laying in bed, naked, drinking a bottle of aged scotch, kind of drowning my sorrows, I have my father’s wake today, but I have a few classes that I’m going to try and make. I’m sitting at the end of my bed, it’s around ten-thirty in the morning, and I’m still not dressed; class starts in about ten minutes. I light a cigarette and pull on a pair of pants, I don’t even bother with the underwear. After placing the stogie on the dresser I pull a black t-shirt on, I pick the cigarette back up and stick it between my lips taking another drag. I bend down tying my shoes and pick up my wallet, cell phone, keys and make my way out the door into the hallway.

You know when you’re driving down a road, that you almost frequent on a daily basis, and you don’t recognize some of the houses on the road, because after all those times you’ve driven down it, you don’t pay attention to them. Standing in the hallway, I’m hit with a hard realization, that I have no idea where I am. I don’t recognize the walls, or any of the posters that people have hung up. Dave Matthews Band and Phantom Planet. I get a weird tingling sensation in my head and I feel faint for a moment, clutching the wall I vomit at my feet and drop to my knees. Dry heaving momentarily and then vomiting again. Blood. Damn.

I get up, coughing, clearing the taste from my throat, which is almost impossible. I walk down the steps, wondering why I’m throwing up, I had a little scotch, but I’ve never thrown up from scotch. I stop at a water fountain on the first floor and drink some. My throat is burning, and the water helps slightly, but not too much. Finally, I guess almost instantly I collapse onto the floor and thus ending a streak.

* * *

I awoken by the beeping of a machine. I feel a little better, but I’m in a hospital somewhere, and sit up quickly. No one is there, I look down at my arms, and I have a tube dug into my right arms main vein. I lay back down and the door opens, in walks a guy in a white coat, a doctor no less, a young guy about thirty-five or so. I look at him.
“What happened?” I ask.
“You collapsed,” he responds.
“Thanks for stating the obvious,” I say.
“Did you throw up blood?” he asks.
“I think so, yeah.”
“Okay,” he responds, writing something down on a chart.
“I believe you’re suffering from exhaustion and stress, stress leading to an inflamed ulcer, which caused you to throw up blood this morning,” he says not looking at me. “When you’re feeling a little better you’re free to go.”
“How long have I been here?”
“I wasn’t here when you got in, but I think a little over an hour. You got somewhere you need to be?”
“My father’s wake.”

I sit up on the bed a little bit, I’m not feeling very well. I can’t taste the burning in the back of my throat from vomiting before. Almost ignorantly I pull the tube from my arm, and instantly I feel the worse pain you could possibly imagine. I have a low threshold for pain, so it may feel like a tickle to some people, to me…not exactly.
“I’ve got to go,” I say to the doctor.
“Okay, I’ll get you a nurse to take you out in a chair,” he says, walking out.
“No need for that.”
“Policy.”

Policy my ass, I don’t think all hospitals have policies, I think hospitals have candy-stripers, and that’s a thought I’d think about as the non-candy-striper nurse pushed me through the auto doors of the hospital onto the city sidewalk.

“Do I have to tip you or something?” I ask her, but she just ignores me and walks back into the hospital.

I hail a cab and take it to west 56th and walk the rest of the way to my parents apartment. I got out early, because I can never remember what the cross street name is. It’s like when you know how to get somewhere, and you can go there with your eyes closed, but you don’t know the name of one fucking street; absolutely ironic. I enter through the building and enter the elevator which is embossed in gold. I keep thinking about Duck Tales and for the life of me, I can understand why. The elevator opens to my parents floor of the building, a butler stands there with his arm extended. I shake his hand. He doesn’t leave, so I shake his hand again.
“I’m not shaking your hand again,” I say.
“Your coat, sir,” he says, I remove it and place it over his arm.

The wake is solemn, it’s kind of depressing in a way; I guess you’d expect that though. I walk through a crowd of people, they all give me this look of despair and pity. I don’t want to be pitied for my father’s death. He was a psycho-therapist and was murdered by a patient. I loved my dad and believed that he was a brilliant guy, but dead is dead, you pitying me isn’t going to bring him back.

Suddenly a heat wave rushes over me, as if I’d been caught doing something wrong. My thoughts race through my mind quickly; almost unbearable.




Okay, this might be it for some time.

We Just Can't Win...

She sighs and takes a hit off a joint that has been passing around the circle for about five minutes. She doesn’t give a reason as to why she’s sighing, but she has a look on her face. A look that leads me to believe she’s unhappy with her current situation. The fact is she’s dating Mel Harris, a guy I went to New York University with only a few years ago. They’re engaged, but they rarely see each other. Mel is taking some courses at Yale while she sits around a lavish Penthouse suite in hopes of becoming the perfect house wife.

I can tell by her movements, as she sways to The Refreshment’s We Just Can’t Win in slow motion. It’s the grass that’s making my head spin, the people around me slower and tolerable, but it’s making her seem even more perfect than that one night back in New York, when I took her virginity in a bathtub at the Four Seasons.

Valerie has this way about her, she’s eager to start the morning off right. Therefore I’m awoken to a pair of soft lips wrapped tightly around my shaft. I can’t help but feel for this girl, because all she wants is to be loved.

I lay back in bed and think about a time before graduation. Before the real world smacked me in the face, and my father’s death didn’t hover over my head. A time when I would sit in the rain, because I felt clean afterwards. Feeling refreshed and cleansed after the rain washed away my sins.

I get out of bed and wrap a robe around myself. In the bathroom, I can’t recognize my face, I’m a totally different person because of what I did with Valerie last night.

The night started off pretty innocent, a few drinks, a couple of kisses. Apparently, things took a turn for the worst when I turned on Pandora's Box and took my dick out and started dancing around to Death Cab For Cutie’s Someday You Will Be Loved. The song isn’t upbeat, so the dancing was kind of sadistic and unpracticed, so what she did next shocked me. She started weeping. Imagine my concern, I stand in front of a pornographic film, holding my you-know-what, while Valerie cries onto the bed sheets.

I start towards her and she jumps up, wrapping her arms around me and uttering the perfect words: Fuck me, Fuck Me.

So I fucked her; end of story.

Then came the morning after. I got a decent wake up called, which could be called head, and I even got a scrambled egg breakfast from her cook, who can’t cook. (This I noticed when he didn’t know what Eggs Benedict are). All through breakfast she massaged by genitals with her bare foot, motioning for me to come hither. At this point, I wasn’t interested anymore. I know it’s a pretty ridiculous thing to have decided this late in the game, but I had just come to the realization (that I should’ve come to a long time ago) that she was just using me, because Mel was gone. Not only did I take Valerie’s virginity, but I just ruined her hopes and dreams. Her marriage will never work, simply because there’s something she doesn’t know about Mel Harris: he’s gay.




Four days in a row?