it's come to this

i started a new job answering phones all day long. yeah the typical el paso guy thing. it's not much and it sucks because i dont feel like much having to do it. luckly i'm in the same training class as a good friend of mine so we encourage eachother not to smash the shit out of something and gtfo of there. i swear the monotony fucks with me.

my trainer is hot tho.

For real, if i was Carlos circa "170lb and totally cute" i'd probly have a good shot with her. She rides bikes and shit so fuck yeah. but for the mean time i'm telling a friend of mine to spread a rumor that says we're getting friendly. now that i'm thinking about it, i'm pretty sure that's a GREAT idea.

it sucks tho because it really has come to this, fuckin me answering phones and bullshit. luckly this isnt the lowest point of my life now. so fuck it.

take it easy.

it's been a long minute

im not entirely sure what the fuck i'm doing.

i'm not entirely sure why i bother

no i'm not going to kill myself, i wouldnt call myself depressed either, but i do need some clarity here.

this is just to vent i guess.

i'm feeling lonely, sick, lost, and sort of useless. no purpose, no direction, and what sucks is i'm lazy as fuck to do anything about it.

and that's about it.

all this talk about work is getting me nervous, but i think a clear conscious would do me well. not only with clearing up lies i tell myself about doing this and that but with things pending to do.

in case you dont know it, i'm kind of a huge fucking liar. probably the biggest liar you'll ever know. the shroud of mystery you see? just a bunch of empty lies. it's kinda fucked up and you should call me out on it. i get pissed and whatever but fuck you for calling me out. haha

it's weird because even though a lot is on my mind and a lot of what i've wanted to accomplish has yet to manifest itself (cus you know, shit happens and no work is needed) - i think this is the biggest spot of clarity and relief i've had in a long fucking time.

just writing shit down feels good.

so recently i've been praying. it becomes like this meditation thing that has gotten me into a deep trance kinda like when you take some shrooms and close your eyes. only i'm not seeing stars and bad ass patterns, i'm calling on the Lord to help guide me and stuff. it's fun - but i think He doesnt like that i havent been honest in a long time.

I wonder how long it'll take for Him to hear my voice.

One thing that's been bothering me and continues to do so is my depreciation of mental thought. I used to be faster at math, wittier and etc. goes back to the fucking bullshit that i DONT do. I should probably DOING and have my inner monologue stfu and choke on some knowledge. i've been taking it too easy for far too long.

lastly. i dont know if i should even say because i'm not sure who reads this and i'm fucking certain that anyone who has any sort of intuition as to what can be considered mentaly healthy is probably already wondering wtf is the matter with me. but please, if this next line isnt about you stfu because fuck you.

I miss my ex. Having her around was the one of the best experiences. Losing her was the most valuable. what i learned about living and myself i wouldnt trade for anything. thru the hurt and misery and loneliness and worry - i've dealt compassion, kindness, forgiveness, and love.

thru this little journey, i lost 80 pounds and gained back 50 (totally different post, haha), i graduated and became unemployed, i've stolen and got ripped off, i sold and bought, i worked and slacked, i fucked and fucked up, i'm lost and have yet to be found.

and that's why i'm praying. for a little direction, but the motivation has come to me with great cost.

for a long time my motivation was her, even after we had broken it all off the feeling of spite and resentment i had against the world was pretty bad ass. lol bad ass parties, bad ass jams, bad ass money, bad ass fucking, bad ass grades. but it only took me so long to come down in a big way one false move and i could lose it all, and i did.

so now after a minute after all of this shit in my life came crumbling down i'm rebuilding, but this time i have the scaffolding that i made myself. the fucking essentials covered. when she left me, I could honestly say that none of that shit was there.

so now that's kind of what i am. i'm a foundation with scafolding that's starting to rust because the crew has no blueprints to finish it. and that's what would be nice to have. not blue prints from a failed project but an experienced architect that i can use as kind of a consultant. not really a big friend, but knows the details and someone i can respect enough to be open about stuff.

but damn, i've really changed. wonder who she is now...

TL;DR – I’ll miss you girl. RIP Puppy.

I remember when we first got her. She’d been drawn out as the scrappy one from the puppy mill, she was cheap but “full blooded”. Her tail was cut to the bone and the ghetto stitch work only made it harder to keep clean.

As she grew into adult hood, the physical characteristics of her breed never appeared. Her muzzle was narrow, her chest/neck only showed a small patch of white, her nub of a tail – was seriously nubby, and she was small – always too skinny and small to be recognized as a “Boxer”. But she made up for it in style. She slept face up in a warm sun under the shade, hunt pigeons for fun, fight for her puppies, and sat on her blanket to eat.

Soon she’d learn from her mate to do what a good dog does. Keep an eye on the house and on the kids. They lived happily and had puppies. In her first litter there were 5 healthy picture perfect babies, who would be the reason for 3 of the nastiest dog fights I’d ever witness. All of whom played out like this. The boy, out of curiosity would always try and find the puppies when she would go out of the house to eat/poop. if she saw him anywhere other than in the little cage area of the back yard… it was ON.  [he never seemed like he was going to do anything to them other than say hi – I’d seem him like one as to say hello. but who knows maybe he was tasting it.].

She would growl, then bark, then sprint towards him with teeth ready to kill. I just remember seeing her with red eyes, being pinned by the throat as her large headed man tried to control her. She’d then slip out of the choke by twisting her torso and biting his floppy ears. That’s when the guy didn’t give a fuck and humans had to intervene as we knew that they were fighting for blood or something worse… They were full sized adults by then. It’s weird how dogs lift off into the air swiping with their paws, landing on their side, quickly getting up to then snap at the muzzle/neck of the other. The boy was always the one to get the worst of it, I’m guessing he never locked his jaw. He clearly always had the upper hand, as he was stronger and faster, but that bitch kept going over and over.

From then on we knew what to do whenever she had babies. The second litter was only 3 but they were cute and went fast. The last litter wasn’t as nice. It was a hot week in July/August when she went into labor. Those puppies were small. I remember seeing them all of them a little small. It wasn’t long before we knew there was trouble. She had six. 3 passed. For all of them she wouldn’t let us approach she’d push us away and block the entrance. The last one to go was the worst. That day we knew there was one in there and for a few hours we tried to coax her out. Finally around sundown when the sun is just past the mountain, she came out. When we got up she ran back to her babies. I went inside and saw the rest from the window. She came outside and with the gentleness that only a mother can have, laid her puppy on the grass by my mothers feet. She stepped back and they [my mom and dog] looked at each other. My dog turned back to the rest of the litter and my mom teared up.

You should never compare a shitty mother to a bitch.

A year later her mate would die from a brain tumor.

She would become top dog, alone. She would be there for anyone who wanted to play. She was amazing with kids.

Later after I’d come back from phoenix and by a misinterpretation we’d end up buying another dog. I think this really helped her revitalize the more I think about it.

But she was old and knew of a more amazing mate than this smaller idiot of a dog. Seriously, her first mate was smarter, bigger, and way more obedient.

But as all creatures in life, she grew old. I only noticed her failing hips when she gradually stopped climbing on me, her cataracts as she would stop running in the dark for supper, her deafness when she stopped barking when I’d have to go thru the back door on drunken nights. And finally her pain of the tumors. She’d lost weight, ate slower, would avoid being touched on her right side, and she slept and slept and slept. Her tears just kind of became crusted over her eyes.

It was about two weeks ago that she’d finally conceded to being petted on her right. She just snuggled against me, I’d feel it and you could feel that sharp sour pain she must have had. I knew it wasn’t long before I’d have to hug her on a vets table.

These last few weeks were rough. But I tried to make it her best. I owe that much to her.

One thing that will always stay in my mind is what I guess all dogs give their owners. The love and loyalty of true friendship.

Over the past days I’d pet her and groom her and she’d just be quiet with me. She was weak and must have known more than I did because any time I’d get sad and started to tear up she’d look at me, with the biggest most loving eyes and one of those calm happy dog smiles, kind of saying “don’t worry, we’ll be alright"

I know you will be, I know I’ll be.

Girl you’re in doggy heaven now right with your boy and lost puppies. Hopefully you’ll remember us as good people and loving owners. I will miss you.

The trains come to visit me every hour or so. They seem to go west then east then west again. I don't really think about where they're going, all I wonder is how much of a mess one of those could make if it were to be derailed like you see in those bankruptcy commercials.

I fell off of my bike twice, once I'll blame on my sore muscles. The other, there's not really much to it, I hit a soft patch and couldn't pedal thru. All the work I had put into getting into shape to get better looking and to live a little longer, all of that made no dramatic appearance fueled by adrenaline. I just kind of toppled over. On the second fall I just looked at the stars and realized nothing. I know why I fell, I knew it would hurt, and I knew that there was little I could do. All I could think about was about cracking my helmet.

If there were people around I might have laughed honestly and wholeheartedly, but alone there was little in terms of humor. All I could think about was that dog in the background howling at me triggered earlier by my weak light and musics playing on the phone. So I layed there next to some steal pipe maybe treated by asbestos material. I didn't think much of it, I figured I've fucked my lungs up smoking those reds more than a few PPM of asbestos ever could.

I layed there kind of hoping something interesting would happen, that's when I got up, dusted myself off and kept going on my path. My knee was bleeding and my elbow was pulsing in pain, but all I wanted to do was get back to my regular shoes.

Now sitting here I can hardly wait for my shift to be over. I'm not necessarily sure why as I'll probably be doing more of the same at home.

All I can think now is how much time I've lost and how much more I'm going to lose. I'd seize the day, but there's little to do when you got no cash or …

Some Greetings

What’s up, did you get that hooker?

Hey man, how’s the business going?

Sup bink.

Hey jerk, when did you get here?

Carlos, I need you to lend me 5 bucks – How are you?

Carlitos, my nerd boy, how are you?

Alivianese guey; miralo, como se pone.

C-lo, RAAAGE!

CARLOS! So you want to play gay chicken?

Sup man; my brother says hi and I think we should go get hot cheetos.

Sup – did you do the homework? Yeah, cus I didn’t either.

Sup idiot, I need your computer.

Sup wey, so you know, you’re sitting in cat piss.

Oh, so now it’s a mutual agreement in conscious space that we acknowledge our presence? SYNCRONIZE!

You gotta be down.

Carlos, I know you’re down. Let’s go.

Wanting to Write

I don’t even know what to say anymore. Anything I’ve managed to spew out is only worth 140 characters at a time.

But why am I writing more than that? What’s making me go? I’m not sure. It’s something in me, just wanting to come out and say something. There’s nothing much to say. She’s like any other bitch…

That makes me like any other guy? I guess that’s what I’ve wanted all along.

 

I wish I could actually write something worth reading. Something that had some sort of answers. There’s nothing here but a bunch of speculation and fear. Then I start to look around.

I need some time alone.

I need some company.

I don’t give a fuck.

I stared down a hobo.

It was about 4 o’clock in the dead heat of the day when I looped back around the Starbucks to enjoy my iced coffee. “There’s a tree giving shade, I will park my car underneath and enjoy my treat.”

There was a hobo sitting underneath the tree, sitting on his chair cross-legged and looking to the distance.

I park. He slowly glances towards me then cautiously returns his sight. I want to get on his vibe so I start to look at where he’s gazing towards. I realize he’s not looking at anything so I start to eat my pecan pie and iced coffee. I take a bite, thru the window the hobo can see. I chew and take a sip, this guy thinks I don't see his eyeballs move. I take a bite and look up. This time I chew slowly while I stare into his blue eyes. Awkward moment is awkward as he makes a crazy calk eyed look to the right. With one eye squinted and the other looking the other way, I see the white in his left eye. He looks well rested.

Seeing his head turn puts him into a quick perspective of a hobo and a flood of thoughts fill my brains. “If this guy had a rifle, his face would look like that if he was aiming.” “His legs are old like his bike.” “I wonder what his story is.” “Is this guy tripping, or what?!” “Nah, he can’t afford PCP.”

As I refocus on him my I lift my head up a bit and take a sip of coffee. “Who told them to put sugar in this?”

Back to square one where his space was taken by some guy wearing a White Sox hat. I smile this time. His brow lowers. I take it back. I look at him and take a bite. We lock eyes. We stare at each other for a bit. Then, without much else left in him. He makes a /-: and looks diagonally down.

I felt bad, I ruined his crazy hobo trip.

/-: