Saturday, November 28, 2009

Thursday, November 26, 2009

late one night

probably around 12am, the phone rang.
nearly startled me, but i answered, and a little female voice came sifting through.
she sounded asian, and she asked if i was interested in purchasing a long distance calling card package to the Philippines.
well first off, i don't know anybody in the Philippines,
and secondly,
i love fucking with telemarketers.
so i honed my best "old man," voice and began questioning the Filipina.
asked her what she was wearing.
she said a dress.
of course, Filipinas generally dig traditional garb.
then i asked if she was wearing a thong.
a moment of silence.
yes; she was.
okay, fine...fine. what color?
white?
don't they get stained?
um...no.
so the conversation went something like that for at least an hour.
with me asking "who are youuuuu?" every five minutes.
finally i asked for her number.
- she denied me this.
in turn, i asked to speak to her manager.
when he got on the phone i told him i was going to kill myself because his company called me tonight.
then i popped a grocery bag and let the phone hit the floor.

well, that was late one night...
they can't always be winners.

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

bmezine.com

wow,
thought i had complete understanding of tattoos/piercing/general freakery.
apparently not.
snoop around www.bmezine.com and you're sure to find several things that'll make you wince, perhaps vomit.
really.

.

Sunday, November 22, 2009

a chicken named chloe

was a silver-spangled hamburg purebred we bought off craigslist several months ago.
and she was different.
a special chicken.
a chicken...yeah, a goddamn chicken, and i teared up when i found her dead at the bottom of her cage today.
chloe wasn't just an excellent source of low-fat protein.
no...chloe was an old soul.
you know the type.
with intelligent eyes. thinking. appraising. happy eyes.
i am not shitting you.
i am not shitting you.
that little girl would sit there and snuggle and spread her wings and chirp away.
roll around and scratch.
following me like a puppy.
taking flight and landing on my head, my shoulder...
sometimes squirting a turd.
but it didn't matter. it wasn't malicious. she just had to take a shit, i guess.
but she died today and i buried her.
this little bird.
with four white hibiscus flowers, under a cactus tree.
and i never thought i'd feel any type of emotion for a bird, let alone a chicken.
some selection on a menu.
super-sized # 2.
a McNugget.
but holding her limp body, eyes closed as if she were asleep,
i had to take a seat and hold her one last time.
yet people are dying every second.
children are starving.
soldiers ripped apart by IEDs.
chickens slaughtered by the millions.
and chloe; our chicken, this little girl, just ounces of feathers and meat, died today.
you know what?
yeah, i'm a little sad.
just hours before, she sat in my hand, sneezed a few times, peered up at me, and rested her head on my palm.
this chicken.
chloe.
goddamn it, she was just a chicken.
i eat chickens.
fried;
baked;
dipped in hot sauce;
mucked up in some freaking soup.
but chloe's in the ground right now.
a dead chicken. alive for a few months.
just a brief spark of life.
with an old soul.
and i miss her already.

and i'm still laughing...

Saturday, November 21, 2009

tiffany

is a dog. beagle-type. very old, probably in her late teens, and she'll be gone soon.
she was my sister's dog.
but she moved on...
bigger and better things, i suppose.
and tiffany was left to the parents.
she's grown old and lumpy.
distant. aloof.
used to greet me with the all too familiar beagle howl.
"owwwwwwwwwwwww"
just point her head to the sky and let loose.
tail wagging @ hyper-speed.
when i came home from Iraq, besides my old man, tiffany was the first to greet me.
- she paused. it took her eyes a moment to register what she was seeing.
but as soon as she got the scent, she spoke.
that's right, she spoke.
she did not howl nor bark, but moaned something i've never heard before.
a lament.
a wail.
maybe she sensed what i'd been through.
maybe she smelled the sleepless nights atop a HUMVEE in the fertile crescent, the fear, the foriegn soil under my laces, the boy changed into a man...
but most likely, it was the beef jerky in my cargo pocket.
- hey, she's a dog, whaddya expect, huh?
tiff.
and now she's old, perhaps senile.
walks around my house aimlessly.
sniffing.
farting.
whimpering in the corner - eyes fixed towards a blank wall.
howling in the wee hours of the night.
i feed her.
- she gulps it down without chewing.
i rub her.
- she lays there catatonically.
sometimes i go out to her. sit with tiff under the sun.
- she looks up @ me, vacantly.
i rub her head. her ears. look into those cloudy eyes; a heavy film of cataract obfuscating pupils.
- more often than not, she looks right through me.
yet every once in a while, i see a hint of recognition.
a wag of the tail. a smile.
and it happened today.
outside, near the chicken coop.
tiffany lounging in the dirt, and i sat beside her.
she looked up.
and i think...i think, she knew it was me; chris.
her gray paw, the delicate little fingers interlaced with white hair, she placed on my folded arm.
touching my tattoos.
all those years ago.
"true love," and roses and a skull faced octopuss (what can i say, i was a different kid then)
and she smiled, tiffany.
rubbed her head. her ears. right under that lumpy chin.
and we sat there for quite some time, watching the chickens.
later i found her in the middle of the yard, staring off into nothingness.
a lost lil' pooch stuck on "pause."
so i went out and ran my hand along her back.
along her dinged up spine and parched coat.
took a few moments to realize i was there.
and she looked up for a long BEAT...

PISSED OFF CHRISTOFF
Tiff...hey tiff...

and then back at nothingness.
brought her inside a bit later. right atop her gnarled blanket. and she sat, resting her old bones. face buried, eyes closed.
good old tiff.
a dog.
a beagle.
and she'll be gone soon.

Friday, November 20, 2009

a salamander

i found a salamander in los angeles today. under all the filth. this little guy, black and gray with tiny arms.
a little salamander, probably the last of his kind.
i debated on taking him. you know, provide a nice warm terrarium with crickets or whatever it is the hell he eats.
but i left him. right under this cinder block.
i pick things up. just like a kid.
always have. rocks. cinder blocks. bricks. shit like that. always hoping to find something.
usually i don't. not a damn thing but some ants and rollie pollies.
once...no, twice, i found rattlesnakes up @ the ranch, near hemet.
remember i picked up a piece of corrugated steel, and low and behold, life stirred.
under trash. this kid, this rattler, waited.
a pacific rattlesnake. they are black. and speckled white. and eyes...eyes angry.
beautiful in a way...
and all of a sudden he started shaking. rattling. like holy shit, animals really exist.
los angeles proper has yet to exterminate.
so i got a stick and placed it against his head.
tight.
scales bending, buckling.
reached down...seemed like hours, really.
well maybe several minutes.
and-
WHAM!
grabbed his neck.
his head rolled near my thumb. very surreal.
but he didn't get me. this pacific rattler.
nope.
kept holding.
squeezed.
and he relented.
submitted, like one of Gracie's opponents.
-hope i didn't hurt him much.
but i kept the rattler.
feed fat w/lab rats and pigeons; once a week.
"bitey," we called him.
but he would yawn, and those fangs; opaque hypodermic needles, would fluctuate like little arms waving hello.
sometimes i'd watch the effect his vemon would have on prey...it wasn't pretty.
in fact, it got very ugly.
VERY.
spasms. gasps for breath. seizures.
just ugly.
we released him several months later.
"bitey."
started to get nervous - his enclosure wasn't too secure .
but goddamn, what power that little creature had. this little piece of gristle and flesh, scales and a brain too small.
anyways, i found a salamander in los angeles.
i left him under the cinder block.
figured he survived thus far, why steal his thunder?
the last of his kind.
a little salamander in LA.

Monday, November 16, 2009

a word on logic

nobody wants to say it.
nobody wants to think it.
but what the hells so wrong with The Draft?
it'd lessen the burden on troops who're on their 3rd, 4th, even 5th tours in Iraq/Afghanistan.
is it so hard, so wrong, to serve this country?
yes, yes...you ascribe to Howard Zinn's philosophy...but guess what? he served. that's how he got the right scoop.
stop gettting second hand information, tone down your rhetoric.
i concede -- you're much more articulate than i.
i dunno. things seem so damn contradictory.
so illogical and full of posture and pomp.
yes, i'm a Veteran...i'm honored, respected by many.
(prolly loathed too.)
yet many i know would never serve in the military, let alone allow their children to serve in a war for this country.
but we did. and many of us got hurt.
badly.
unfortunately it's like pulling teeth to recieve disablitiy from the govt.
for guy/gals that put life on hold
and did what they were told.
and if uncle sam doesn't want to anty up? well, obama better grow some balls and tap into his vast pool of groupies and draft 'em.
you love this new change?
the hope?
yeah, i hear ya. me too.
so do something that requires a little more effort than dragging your ass to the polling both and punching some buttons.
you voted. kudos.
and i know you wanna loose wieght.
i mean, oprah wants to loose weight. you've tried the grapefruit diet. counting your carbs. atkins was too meaty. south beach too expensive.
try something new.
i know you're afraid. so was i.
waiting there in the dark, feet plastered on yellow footprints, trying to look tough.
and i know you don't wanna die. neither did i.
i wanted to drink, smoke, get laid, explore Greece, visit the Levant and touch Solomon's Wall, lounge on the beaches of sunny so-cal.
and you'll loose wieght.
you'll get that cardio.
you'll become something other than the millions of Americans' that compromise the general population -- who watch the world pass by on the boob tube, smiling vacantly.
might even become a hero, who knows? but you've got it in you.
if your gramps could...you could.
"greatest generation," - just like us.
same DNA.
same faces.
same crooked smile and dimples.
it's gonna be hard. yes.
it's gonna suck ass. yes.
you'll hate...many things. yes.
you might even become a pissed off Veteran like myself (but time will pass...and you'll mellow out, hopefully...i'm not always pissed off).
but in the end...you'll be history.
i was, right?
or am i just a dolt, some dip-shit who risked his life for a corrupt government?
for oil?
for bush?
for a special on the history channel 10 years from now?
a poignant monument conceived by a well-mannered asian lady -- adjacent to the numerous others that dot d.c.?
i dunno...
maybe i'm just another cliche unfolding before your very eyes.
i don't wanna say it.
you don't wanna think it...

Saturday, November 14, 2009

sports fan?

i've always had my doubt abouts the 2002 western conference series between my Lakers and Sucktown aka the Sacramento Kings...
-you know the one, LA got all the calls, and poor Jason Weber drifted into obscurity as did his sovereign's.
well, my doubts have been confirmed...kinda...somewhat...
check out this article on DEADSPIN.COM

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Law group launches program to help veterans -- latimes.com

Law group launches program to help veterans -- latimes.com

- my best bud and fellow Jarhead, Aaron Huffman in the news...

Posted using ShareThis

'soldiers' stories,' @ actors' gang

nice little time in culver city, ca @ the actors' gang.
and damn, what a great looking theatre...unfortunately i didn't get a chance to snap some pix of the interior, but it's brick, black, and wood.
check it out sometime.




Tuesday, November 10, 2009

did i forget?

never.
234 years of United States Marines.
Semper Fi.


shitmydadsays

i don't twitter, but this guy's pretty funny...and now he's got a comedy deal from cbs.

shitmydadsays

Monday, November 9, 2009

Saturday, November 7, 2009

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

The Actors' Gang -NOV 10/11

nearly forgot, my monologue - along with several others - will be on it's feet this Veterans Day/USMC birthday @ The Actors' Gang Theatre in Culver City.
november 10 & 11 @ 8pm.
for more info:

www.theactorsgang.com



Monday, November 2, 2009

website of the month...

okay, so i've got some chickens. even made a big ole coop with my girl.
im talking chicken wire, two-by-fours, three-inch self-tapping screws, and whatever miscellaneous crap i could scrounge up.
looks a like a cross between a peasant favela and a 19th century isolation cage for chronic
masturbators.
nevertheless, i ran across this website few weeks ago and...
...have been transfixed ever since.
you see, there's a story among the rhode island reds' for sale and erudite tips on de-beaking leghorns.
just check it out. take some time. click around. interesting as hell.
people.
hell with the celebs. the politicians. the pundits. with their baby dicks and brilliantly white teeth.
people.