Welcome everyone! To the inner, and outer, ramblings of your friendly neighborhood Sober-man. As my previous blogs have shed light upon, you may know that I took the path least traveled into the world of Non-Alcoholic Life. "Odd." you may say. Being that scotch, martinis, and the elegant beer were mainstays in my life. But, it's been quite freeing.
For quite a few years I would have a scotch and a cigar nearby before even placing my fingers on the keyboard to type out this blog. The *tik tik tik* of the keys were accompanied by the clinking of the ice in my glass as I took every sip. Yet, here I sit, plugging away with clarity and a fistful of chaos still lurking in my mind and spirit. Yes, some things never change. The inner workings of Knuckles has not changed. He is still a free spirit, rolling stone, fun loving, respectful (to those that deserve such) gentleman, that prides himself not only on his life's journey, but his insight on life. So, why wouldn't it make sense to add a new chapter to my life. Shake things up, and show the world that anything is possible if you want it bad enough, and you have the support of the people that truly love you, and want you to remain in their lives, and in this world.
6 Months.
Yeah, it's been that long. Yesterday was my 6 month milestone. Some dear friends took me out for dinner. Kind, respectful, and loving friends. A select few have encouraged my sobriety, and helped me along the path. Others have taken my sobriety as a beacon of hope, and have reached out to me for help, asking how I did it, and what they could do to do the same. Others support me with words, and kindheartedness.
Take for instance a dear friend of over 15 years...(i think i have known him for 17, but it's a bit grey)...he wrote me a few days ago, while we were discussing the absence of certain friends in my life post-rehab, he eloquently responded with:
"Of course.....when people associate their time around you to one particular activity or another, any change in that associative image, tends to shift the social paradigm in such a manner that, the larger majority cannot adjust to said paradigm shift."
He continued with:
"A true lasting friendship is not rooted in a singular paradigm. It exists, much like matter, in every paradigm. Adapting, growing, becoming... to paraphrase Bruce Li 'like water.' This is to say that to maintain the test of paradigm shifts the relationship has to become what it needs to be for the time and situation; it takes the shape of things to come, and though the form it takes is fluid and viscous it never changes it merely takes a new form."
To me, the value of one's words also create more weight in their position in my life. To not turn one's back on another because of a monetary shift in their life. Or, that you feel you can no longer go out for drinks like you used to, is an inward turmoil that I did not mean to create, but an outward test of friendship that happened.
I look upon life like a journey. It has a beginning and an end. You fill the space with memories, dreams, adventures, and love. You fill it with people that make you a better "you", and you fill it with friends you learn to believe in your heart of hearts, are truly family.
Unlike others, I have a very firm grasp on the person I am. Flaws, weaknesses, frailties, and issues included. I know what's fucked, and what's fixable. I know that there is a social stigma for profusely drinking, and I know there is an odd one that accompanies that with going to rehab. You are looked upon as broken, when in fact, you have fixed something that WAS broken. To believe oneself as infallible is to believe you are perfect. Perfection is a myth. But, constantly building upon yourself is respectable, and admirable. Look to your flaws, and judge them with an open mind. Can you tear those flaws apart, and rebuild a bigger and better you? Can you tear down your stigmas and replace them with vital pieces of a more successful you? If so, then take that look in the mirror that I did. Reevaluate yourself. Your being. Your journey. Your "you". Don't lose sight of what you CAN be, by what you are now.
I see myself as malleable. Willing to twist, turn, and suffer to get to what is right, and what is better for me. My whole life, I have learned to turn a blind eye to the naysayers, and to the haters. Everyone judges you no matter what you choose. But, if you believe you are doing something to better yourself, then by all means, continue. Do not infringe upon others, but include them in your journey. Your friendship will stand the test of time if they are true. If not, then their true colors have shone through. Money, time, bars, etc...will come and go. But, love, respect, friendship and kindness are more valuable than most may think.
In conclusion, I want to remind you all that my journey is not over until someone flings a fiery spear into my heart one day. Until that day, I will continue to fight and fuck. Life is too short to become to uptight and straitlaced, But, with my newly found accomplishment, at least I will remember it all.
Keep plugging along my fellow Knuckleheads, you bring me hope in humanity.
With love and respect,
Knuckles
[Quotes Courtesy of: Matt "Gutter" Robinson]
FYI...don't call him Gutter...that's a no-no to anyone but me.
Showing posts with label motivation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label motivation. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
Monday, August 18, 2014
90 Days
To kids, it's a summer vacation. To a new employee, it's when your benefits kick in. To a criminal, it's usually the lowest sentence. To many, it's just 3 months.
To me, it's a milestone towards success.
For years I fought tooth and nail for this success. I would nail a week down here or there. Sometimes longer, a lot of times shorter. But, always wanted it.
In rehab, I would attend my early morning meetings, and always here them ask "Any people that this is their first meeting? Anyone with 1 month? 2 months? 3 months? 6 months? 1 year?...." and, I always admired the people at 3 months. It was a corner they had turned a corner. The first couple of months seemed like something anyone could do. If it was for a job, or a spouse, or if you were doing it for someone else. But, the people at 3 months seemed to be the ones that wanted for themselves.
90 days isn't long to most people. It's 3 months rent. It's 1/3rd of a pregnancy. It's just not a large number to many. To me, it's a world of opportunity, wrapped in an achievement, and smothered in smiles. It's a desire to be a better human. It's a drive that fuels my forward momentum. It means that I can do this.
We all desire success in some facet. Whether it be in love, money, career, or whatever your heart desires. But, that's just it isn't it? What your heart desires. YOUR heart. Not those around you. Not the many droves of people that give opinions, judgments or blank stares. It's what feels right to you.
A bumpy road is what kept me scared. Kept me weak. I have always been a strong person. Charismatic, calm, open minded, passionate, articulate with my thoughts and feelings. Yet, the chaos that surrounded me, made me want to hide. Those bumps in my road were a variation of deep potholes, or large rocks. So, I tried to hide from them. I lacked the tools to remove the chaos from within, so that I could approach the chaos from without head on.
But, some how, some way, I made it to this 90th Day. I won't win an award. I will be given a chip to remind me of my journey, but the only recognition I truly need, is that of my own. I am proud of myself. I am driven in the right direction and the wind is once again in my sails. No, things aren't easy, but the lulls in the storm come more frequently now. I surround myself with loving people that support me. They know I have demons, but they see my struggles, and they give me the care and attention I need. I take care of myself more. I look inward for help, before I search for it in the world. And, more often than not, I find the answers that dwell inside this coconut of mine to be solid.
This is just the beginning, but it's one helluva start for a man that sat in those early morning meetings, and wondered if I had it inside me to make it that far. To be that strong. To be the man I knew I wanted to be, but questioned his resolve. It turns out, I am all of that and more. It's motivation to move forward. It's encouragement to be even more than I originally thought I could be.
90 days...
Feels pretty fucking good everyone.
- Johnny
To me, it's a milestone towards success.
For years I fought tooth and nail for this success. I would nail a week down here or there. Sometimes longer, a lot of times shorter. But, always wanted it.
In rehab, I would attend my early morning meetings, and always here them ask "Any people that this is their first meeting? Anyone with 1 month? 2 months? 3 months? 6 months? 1 year?...." and, I always admired the people at 3 months. It was a corner they had turned a corner. The first couple of months seemed like something anyone could do. If it was for a job, or a spouse, or if you were doing it for someone else. But, the people at 3 months seemed to be the ones that wanted for themselves.
90 days isn't long to most people. It's 3 months rent. It's 1/3rd of a pregnancy. It's just not a large number to many. To me, it's a world of opportunity, wrapped in an achievement, and smothered in smiles. It's a desire to be a better human. It's a drive that fuels my forward momentum. It means that I can do this.
We all desire success in some facet. Whether it be in love, money, career, or whatever your heart desires. But, that's just it isn't it? What your heart desires. YOUR heart. Not those around you. Not the many droves of people that give opinions, judgments or blank stares. It's what feels right to you.
A bumpy road is what kept me scared. Kept me weak. I have always been a strong person. Charismatic, calm, open minded, passionate, articulate with my thoughts and feelings. Yet, the chaos that surrounded me, made me want to hide. Those bumps in my road were a variation of deep potholes, or large rocks. So, I tried to hide from them. I lacked the tools to remove the chaos from within, so that I could approach the chaos from without head on.
But, some how, some way, I made it to this 90th Day. I won't win an award. I will be given a chip to remind me of my journey, but the only recognition I truly need, is that of my own. I am proud of myself. I am driven in the right direction and the wind is once again in my sails. No, things aren't easy, but the lulls in the storm come more frequently now. I surround myself with loving people that support me. They know I have demons, but they see my struggles, and they give me the care and attention I need. I take care of myself more. I look inward for help, before I search for it in the world. And, more often than not, I find the answers that dwell inside this coconut of mine to be solid.
This is just the beginning, but it's one helluva start for a man that sat in those early morning meetings, and wondered if I had it inside me to make it that far. To be that strong. To be the man I knew I wanted to be, but questioned his resolve. It turns out, I am all of that and more. It's motivation to move forward. It's encouragement to be even more than I originally thought I could be.
90 days...
Feels pretty fucking good everyone.
- Johnny
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
A Fistful of Future
Welcome Knuckleheads, to the always endearing, and sometimes insightful, view into the life of Knuckles. Today we take a journey into the mind, body, and soul that makes up the man behind the words. With all the vulgarity, abrasiveness, and crass behavior, it's hard to imagine that a man such as I is weak and vulnerable, but in the proceeding words, you will witness just that. The soft underbelly of the beast is about to be exposed.
I try and not pass judgment on friends and family, or just generally speaking, the ones I love. I accept them for their flaws, their ideals, their way of life, without so much as blinking at their demons...so long as they love me back in the same manner. I have an eclectic group of friends. From the potheads, to coke heads, to the booze hounds, and even the teetotalers. I love them all equally, as long as that love is returned. But, rarely did I ever look in the mirror to see if I was loving myself. Yes, I am cocky and confident, but it was a long hard look in the mirror that led me to realize that the love I possessed was only moving outward, and I had long forgotten how to love inward.
It's always good to start at the beginning, so let us begin there. In college, I was a machine. I was kickboxing, studying all my martial arts, had 2% body fat, and was eating upwards of 6 to 7,000 calories a day, and burning it off as soon as it hit my stomach. I didn't drink, smoke, or do any drugs. This was the first couple of years. Josh (my suite mate) would always tell me to "Let loose every now and then. Live life. You're always so uptight about your workouts and kickboxing.". I never listened in the beginning. Finally I broke down once at the Juke Joint, and had a Tom Collins (his drink of choice), and so began my social life. Ultimately, I believe it was me trying to make Josh happy. He was my best friend, and we were so alike, but when it came to our social lives, we were quite different. So, I feel it was me trying to please him, and be on common ground in all aspects of our lives. In the beginning I was doing double duty, and because I was in such good shape, I could still party at night, and still get up early and get my workouts in.
Then, at some point, Josh and I had an argument before summer vacation. To this day, I can't remember what it was even about. But, he went home for the summer, and I stayed behind to attend summer school. Then, on June 27th, 1998, my phone rang. On the other end was Meredith, a mutual friend of Josh and I. She asked if I had read the paper, or anyone else had called me. My stomach dropped from my body, and I said "No. Why?". "Josh died in a car accident yesterday.". And, all I could do was say "Thank you." and hang up.
I was distraught to say the least. Coupled with the guilt of not reaching out to say I was sorry for whatever we had argued about. No. I couldn't do that. I couldn't even tell him how much he meant to me, and how much I loved him. And, that's when I pounded a bottle of scotch to numb myself. Every sip in his honor.
Fast forward to L.A. Where the drinks flow freely, and the lifestyle is Party All The Time (if you don't have your head screwed on right at least). Alcohol was available everywhere. And, I found it everywhere. By this point I had become a steady social butterfly. The curse of choosing the career of Actor had it's ups and downs. Without going into detail there, I will just say, it was Phase 2.
The following years were a rollercoaster. But, I found myself taking a drink when each hard time or trial came my way. It's how I dealt with all the rejection, and chaos. The pain of life was dealt more lightly when my brain was slightly numbed. Then after a heartbreaking breakup (albeit it amicable, and justified), I began swimming to the bottom of the bottle.
So began the spiral.
I never dealt with Josh's death the way I should have. I never dealt with my breakup the way I should have. I never dealt with stress....you guessed it...
So, I hid.
The years to come were riddled with masks and mist. False confidence, and emotional turmoil. I no longer had the ability to cope with issues of life the way I should. I still fought for my dreams, and for love, but it took a backseat at times to my need to have a drink.
I had convinced myself that I was a classy drinker. Only scotch or martinis. But, it was still in abundance.
Then I met a girl that didn't drink, and I began attempting to stop. When I would try, my body would literally shut down. Which, in turn brought on frustration and anger at myself, which in turn caused me to want to drown that feeling of inadequacy, and self hate, in the form of fire water.
I tried everything. Only drinking wine or beer. Nope. Only drinking when I was not at home. Nope. I tried stopping cold turkey so many times I lost count. But, nothing ever worked. Then, last year it started directly affecting my health. I would look in the mirror and see a shadow of my former self, and it disgusted me. What had happened to the powerful, determined, passionate, driven man that I had once been? I still knew how to "be" him...but, I no longer "was" him.
Admitting there is something wrong, when you have been such a force to be reckoned with for so long, is disheartening to say the least. I believe the final straw was losing the love of my life, and my ideal apartment. I headed to California, where after a bit of a soul rattling, a great friend sat down with me and we discussed my future, my wants and needs, and what I wanted from life.
What happened next was the greatest thing that's ever happened to me.
Rehab.
Not just ANY rehab. There were no perks, or bells and whistles at this facility. No. This was a Detox and Residential Treatment facility.
I walked in, and almost like a prison they take away your phone, your shoestrings (along with anything else that has a string...including sweatshirts, and shorts), and process you. I looked around and saw plenty of broken souls. And, although 2 years before I would have said "I don't belong here!", I knew I was where I needed to be.
Here I was entered into Detox. I was monitored every two hours (24 hours a day...so, I never got much sleep), and was given a strict regimen of pills. We were awake at 5:30am and were in meetings, therapy, discussion, and doctors until 8pm. I had my first seizure on the second day. My body was clearing out the poisons from my body, but the demon had it's claws in me so deeply, it didn't want to let go, and was willing to take me with it, if it had to die. So, I was now on heart medication, and had to wear a seizure risk bracelet. I was now wearing three bracelets. My intake bracelet, my Fall Risk bracelet, and my Seizure Risk bracelet. It was humbling to say the least.
My roommate was an amazing kid. Mario Vega. Kind, and understanding. He talked me through the process (he had been twice before), and kept me from panicking. The more I was there, the more I found out. It turns out that my triggers were based on anxiety, stress, and more so, clinical depression.
I had never dealt with things the way I should have.
Leap to a couple of minor heart attacks (luckily, not coupled with seizures), and my health started perking back up. I was becoming more insightful, and clear minded by the end of Detox. Yet, could tell no one of my success, due to the fact we had no phone access, nor internet, and no one knew where I was.
Then, I was transferred to RTC. (Residential Treatment) A large house, with our own bedroom (albeit a hospital bed), and onsight nurses and counselors. We were due up at 6am to begin our chores. Then at 7am was our first A.A. meeting, followed by discussion and various other Intensive Treatment to help us get a handle on what needed to be done to correct what was broken in our lives. The meetings were intense. Usually with lots of tears, remorse, and humbling stories. We varied from the modest housewife that drank to escape the turmoil of a violent husband, to the meth addict that began to lose weight. All the while, looking deep inside ourselves to find where we had went wrong.
I likened my rebuilding to a pyramid: You can't build a pyramid without first building the foundation. Your first layer can't be built on matchsticks. No. It has to be the most solid layer, or else everything else comes crumbling down later. So, I began. Although we were supposed to be up at 6am, I was up at 5:30am, just to get my chores done early, and have a chance to read my Big Book. I attended every meeting. I never shirked duties, and I always picked up the slack of those that did. Usually the ones that weren't there of their own free will, and were forced there by a spouse, or a job. I went above and beyond in all facets, because I wanted it to stick. I took my pills, and followed all the guidelines. I felt my confidence coming back, and my mind becoming clear. Others started coming to me for assistance, or opinions on life.
My swagger was slowly returning.
I had never felt so good since my early 20's. I was healthy, happy, and more level headed than I had been in years. Yet, still, no one knew where I was...so, I wasn't able to share my success.
Finally, I graduated...with honors nonetheless. I coined out and was given a diploma. Where, I then proceeded to reevaluate my life, and make adjustments. Made some inventory of my life's priorities, and stepped out the front doors into my Phoenix Rising life. (ironically, there was a liquor store across from the exit of the rehab facility)
So, here I sit, a reinvented man. Today is day 49 of being a teetotaler. I don't miss alcohol in the least. I don't miss the time, money, or love I have lost due to it. I have accounted for my wrong doings, and I have made adjustments to what is important to me. I fight for that peace of mind I mentioned, and I will continue down the right path. Career, love, self confidence, and drive are all the things I need to remain happy.
Which, brings me to the revelation that the perception of me, isn't whom I always was. I have weakness the same as all others. I am breakable, and I am vulnerable. But, with a long look in the mirror, and good friends and loving people surrounding me/you...all things are possible. I am on the right path. The next chapter is going to be filled full of memorable moments. Whether they be struggles to keep negative things and people out of my life to prevent the stress, anxiety, and depression that could cause a relapse, or the struggles to dig myself out of the mindset I had dug for myself.
Ultimately, this is how I feel now:
Life is, the sunlight that shines through your window in the morning. Be thankful there is a pane of glass separating you from the elements. Be thankful for the vision you have to be able to see the light as it dances from the window to every corner of the room you occupy. Be thankful for the feeling of warmth, and the soft kiss it gives your skin. Be thankful for for the walls that protect you. Be thankful for waking up.
I am thankful for so much in life now. Most of all, I am thankful for the love of friends and family. I am thankful for people that don't pass judgment and embrace me for choosing to better myself. I am thankful for my health, happiness, and my ability to have a future.
So, in finishing, I am starting anew. I now have to take medication to prevent heart, blood pressure, depression, and anxiety issues. I now read my Big Book when I feel weak. I now have made adjustments to my life to keep me on the right track. And, with the love and support of those around me, I will conquer all obstacles that appear, and embody me.
I will bruise the world's ego with Knuckles. It will not keep me down.
Thank you all for your love and support. It was disheartening writing this...but, admitting one's flaws is not an unreasonable way to begin with my right foot forward, and giving myself a clear path to where I want to be. It's difficult to be as brutally honest as such, and exposing myself to the world, but to grow, I felt I needed to. Because, growing, is what I plan on doing. And, never hindering myself from doing so again.
Which, means this is the end, and beginning...
With all my love,
Knuckles
Thursday, February 13, 2014
Shove Your Arrow In My Blood Pumper
Happy Valentine's Day Eve Knuckleheads!! (if any of you say V-Day, you deserve to have a cheese grater dipped in Rooster Sauce shoved up your tightest orifice)
Today Knuckles takes a look into your heart. Not with a knife and rib spreader as you may imagine I would, but metaphorically. You know, that place where you keep your feelings and shit. Your love trunk.
I would normally rant and rage on how love can hurt, and just rail on that, but today we're going to touch you in a soft spot. [*No, Gutter, not there...now pull up your pants] I am going to give you some insight into how love can heal, love can embody, and love can give your life a whole new meaning.
Okay, I may touch lightly on the dark side, but not much...it is a happy subject after all.
Let us begin.
*cracks knuckles...gently lays fingers on keys*
At the age of 38, I thought I would be a successful actor. Living in a house in Malibu, California. Have two dogs. A 1969 Dodge Charger as my means of transportation, and more smiles than I have ever imagined. I just never had a solid idea of whom it would be with. I remember after high school, I would dream about this girl that I would walk on the beach telling stories of my life, and she made me feel so content. I never looked over, and never knew what she looked like, but I knew I had to have her when I woke up. When I was with her, I was calm, and peaceful. I could conquer the world in her name, and she would never worship me, but stand beside me as we stood atop the world we had slain.
What I realized about halfway through college is, I wasn't searching for a girl with no face. (how fucking weird would that be?) I was searching for love. I craved it. I needed it. I desired it. I ached for it. "Why?" you may ask? Because, when you're a beast, you need someone to tame you. That's why. I started boxing at 15. I was in martial arts by 18. Fought Muay Thai after high school, and into college. I have always been a fighter, but I never had an Adrian to my Rocky. Those years are long gone, and the beast still rages within me.
But, one thing remains certain, I love the feeling of love. I found my first adult love in college. She was the best. She was smart, conversational, full of life, and just as new to Love as I was. We grew into adults together. Which, now I understand that was also part of the demise of the relationship. We hadn't fully flourished into the adults we were to ultimately become, and grew apart eventually, but WOW! what a ride it was getting there. You see, love is one of those things, that if it truly exists/existed in the relationship, and you look back on it after it's gone, you aren't angry, but you relish in the memories, and realize that the Love was what was important. I'm sure that there were bills to be paid, or that arguments had flared, but I don't remember those. I remember laughing, making snow angels in college, road trips to Chicago, trips around the world, and feeling complete when she was in the room.
That's the thing about love right? When they are away, you feel that something is missing. You feel incomplete. That's why you badger them with texts asking when they will be home, or you plan something sweet for them when you see them. Because, you (on a subconscious level or not) want them to be right beside you. They don't even need to talk. Their presence is what is important.
Backtracking a bit...back in college, I was so desperate to find love, and to keep it in my life, that I began reading women's magazines, self help articles, and taking classes that were Female Majority, just so I could pick the brain of friends and peers. I began dressing (to what i thought, later to be refitted by my ex) better. I began to read recipe books, rather than fictional literature or comics. I became a meticulous cleaner. (a trait i was not taught growing up) But, ultimately, I wanted to be the best catch a woman ever had, when she finally met me, and I met her.
*In the end, I felt like I had become quite the Gentleman. I had classic taste in music. I cooked, I cleaned, I put her needs and desires first. I (as you may have guessed) was an excellent writer, so I wrote poetry, and short stories to include our future, and dreams. I am a giver by nature, and put other's needs above my own at all times.
[*There is no such thing as the perfect person. I was delusional, and needed someone to tell me so]
With that disclaimer, comes the negative bit.
You see, we can't all be perfect. We are all broken, or bent in some way. We have baggage, demons, monkeys on our back, and dark clouds. But, this is not a recipe for disaster. This is character. This is a challenge. This is your hurdle you have to overcome. The thing is; To find someone that will accept you for these things, and either A) Help you overcome them. or B) Accept it's part of a beautiful package.
Since leaving Los Angeles, I have dated little to none, but ultimately was set up with a beautiful and wonderful lady. She's geeky like me. She loves techy shit like me. She is a dog lover, a dreamer, a fireball, and best of all...genuine. In L.A. all I ever heard was "What have you been in?" and "What's your next project?". She never fell for that shit. She liked that her dog loved me, when she loved no one else. She liked that I could talk to her grandparents for HOURS without missing a beat. She liked that I cooked for her, when she felt lazy. She liked that I supported her dreams, when others thought they were nonsense. She liked the effort, the energy, and the commitment that I gave to her smile.
She was never anyone's priority, and I think it matters to make them know that they are. Yes, as all people that date/married/fuck we argue. But, it's nothing that can't be worked through with a little patience, and a whole lot of weed. *kidding?
But, to summarize:
Love isn't wrapped in a neat little package. It isn't how many times you have cooked for someone. It isn't how much money you spend on someone. It isn't what bills you pay, or where you take them for Valentine's Day. Love is rare. Let me tell you. I'm an actor, Muay Thai fighter, Chef, Cleaning Lady, Dog Walker, Laundry Attendant, and full time Escort. But, that does not entitle me to love. That is a perk. Love is understanding, and compassion. Love is listening, and not talking. Love is a hug when she wants to push the world away. Love is understanding that the love isn't always there, but it can be worked through. Love is giving them space when they truly need it.
There are many things that Love is. There are far more things that love ISN'T!! (sex isn't love you idiots...men, stop saying "I love you." to get laid. Women, stop thinking because he said "I love you." that it's okay to give up that love tunnel) Each time I have been in love, I fight for it. I treat it like a beautiful flower, and I feed and water it, care for it gently, and make sure it has plenty of light. I give it the attention I know it deserves, because if I don't, it may die, and I may never find another flower as pretty as that one.
So, fuckers, did you learn something? No? Well, neither did I. I still fuck up relationships left and right apparently.
But, I do know a few things:
1. Love is worth it. - Whether it be a week or 80 years...find love, and hang on to that shit. It's like a drug.
2. Love is complex. - You won't always get what you want, but when you do, it's THE BOMB!!! *do people still say "THE BOMB!!"?
3. Love is messy. - Along with love, comes broken hearts. Analyze yourself as much as you do the other person. You may be the fucked up part of the equation. But, it's not always pretty, so train yourself to see only the beautiful things in love.
4. Love is rare. - This is for all those people that find Love, but don't give it the respect that it deserves. The cheaters, the lazy cunts, the non-givers...Love is fucking rare. Yes, you will find something that is a FAX'ed version of love again, but you will never find the genuine article more than a couple of times in your life. The FAX'ed version will have a man/woman that says they love you, but still texts old booty calls (do people still say......nevermind), or still keep an open window. If you find it, you stop fucking around, and you work on it. You keep that shit close to your heart, and protect it with all your might, because you're not a fucking vampire, and you don't have hundreds of years to live. You get a couple of shots at this, and if you fuck it up, you're going to be spending a lot of time on Facebook on Valentine's Day, as a Gold Medal Winner at the Masturbation Olympics, and run the chance of telling your niece to delete your porn stash on your computer on your death bed, because you couldn't find a way to commit to a relationship.
5. Love is fucking hard!!! - It's an ever-evolving beast. One month may be all happy-go-lucky, the next is stressed and full of chaos. ADAPT!!! Don't be that person that takes your anger of LIFE out on LOVE! This person is your companion, not your enemy. They chose YOU to go into battle, so treat it as such. Direct your anger to the proper direction. If you can't....join a gym....it helps.
So, there's Knuckles rules for keeping love in your life. I have more, but at this point, I'd have to write a fucking book.
Bottom line...Find love, Nurture Love, Keep Love.
Life is short,
Love hard,
Your Bloody Valentine,
Knuckles
Today Knuckles takes a look into your heart. Not with a knife and rib spreader as you may imagine I would, but metaphorically. You know, that place where you keep your feelings and shit. Your love trunk.
I would normally rant and rage on how love can hurt, and just rail on that, but today we're going to touch you in a soft spot. [*No, Gutter, not there...now pull up your pants] I am going to give you some insight into how love can heal, love can embody, and love can give your life a whole new meaning.
Okay, I may touch lightly on the dark side, but not much...it is a happy subject after all.
Let us begin.
*cracks knuckles...gently lays fingers on keys*
At the age of 38, I thought I would be a successful actor. Living in a house in Malibu, California. Have two dogs. A 1969 Dodge Charger as my means of transportation, and more smiles than I have ever imagined. I just never had a solid idea of whom it would be with. I remember after high school, I would dream about this girl that I would walk on the beach telling stories of my life, and she made me feel so content. I never looked over, and never knew what she looked like, but I knew I had to have her when I woke up. When I was with her, I was calm, and peaceful. I could conquer the world in her name, and she would never worship me, but stand beside me as we stood atop the world we had slain.
What I realized about halfway through college is, I wasn't searching for a girl with no face. (how fucking weird would that be?) I was searching for love. I craved it. I needed it. I desired it. I ached for it. "Why?" you may ask? Because, when you're a beast, you need someone to tame you. That's why. I started boxing at 15. I was in martial arts by 18. Fought Muay Thai after high school, and into college. I have always been a fighter, but I never had an Adrian to my Rocky. Those years are long gone, and the beast still rages within me.
But, one thing remains certain, I love the feeling of love. I found my first adult love in college. She was the best. She was smart, conversational, full of life, and just as new to Love as I was. We grew into adults together. Which, now I understand that was also part of the demise of the relationship. We hadn't fully flourished into the adults we were to ultimately become, and grew apart eventually, but WOW! what a ride it was getting there. You see, love is one of those things, that if it truly exists/existed in the relationship, and you look back on it after it's gone, you aren't angry, but you relish in the memories, and realize that the Love was what was important. I'm sure that there were bills to be paid, or that arguments had flared, but I don't remember those. I remember laughing, making snow angels in college, road trips to Chicago, trips around the world, and feeling complete when she was in the room.
That's the thing about love right? When they are away, you feel that something is missing. You feel incomplete. That's why you badger them with texts asking when they will be home, or you plan something sweet for them when you see them. Because, you (on a subconscious level or not) want them to be right beside you. They don't even need to talk. Their presence is what is important.
Backtracking a bit...back in college, I was so desperate to find love, and to keep it in my life, that I began reading women's magazines, self help articles, and taking classes that were Female Majority, just so I could pick the brain of friends and peers. I began dressing (to what i thought, later to be refitted by my ex) better. I began to read recipe books, rather than fictional literature or comics. I became a meticulous cleaner. (a trait i was not taught growing up) But, ultimately, I wanted to be the best catch a woman ever had, when she finally met me, and I met her.
*In the end, I felt like I had become quite the Gentleman. I had classic taste in music. I cooked, I cleaned, I put her needs and desires first. I (as you may have guessed) was an excellent writer, so I wrote poetry, and short stories to include our future, and dreams. I am a giver by nature, and put other's needs above my own at all times.
[*There is no such thing as the perfect person. I was delusional, and needed someone to tell me so]
With that disclaimer, comes the negative bit.
You see, we can't all be perfect. We are all broken, or bent in some way. We have baggage, demons, monkeys on our back, and dark clouds. But, this is not a recipe for disaster. This is character. This is a challenge. This is your hurdle you have to overcome. The thing is; To find someone that will accept you for these things, and either A) Help you overcome them. or B) Accept it's part of a beautiful package.
Since leaving Los Angeles, I have dated little to none, but ultimately was set up with a beautiful and wonderful lady. She's geeky like me. She loves techy shit like me. She is a dog lover, a dreamer, a fireball, and best of all...genuine. In L.A. all I ever heard was "What have you been in?" and "What's your next project?". She never fell for that shit. She liked that her dog loved me, when she loved no one else. She liked that I could talk to her grandparents for HOURS without missing a beat. She liked that I cooked for her, when she felt lazy. She liked that I supported her dreams, when others thought they were nonsense. She liked the effort, the energy, and the commitment that I gave to her smile.
She was never anyone's priority, and I think it matters to make them know that they are. Yes, as all people that date/married/fuck we argue. But, it's nothing that can't be worked through with a little patience, and a whole lot of weed. *kidding?
But, to summarize:
Love isn't wrapped in a neat little package. It isn't how many times you have cooked for someone. It isn't how much money you spend on someone. It isn't what bills you pay, or where you take them for Valentine's Day. Love is rare. Let me tell you. I'm an actor, Muay Thai fighter, Chef, Cleaning Lady, Dog Walker, Laundry Attendant, and full time Escort. But, that does not entitle me to love. That is a perk. Love is understanding, and compassion. Love is listening, and not talking. Love is a hug when she wants to push the world away. Love is understanding that the love isn't always there, but it can be worked through. Love is giving them space when they truly need it.
There are many things that Love is. There are far more things that love ISN'T!! (sex isn't love you idiots...men, stop saying "I love you." to get laid. Women, stop thinking because he said "I love you." that it's okay to give up that love tunnel) Each time I have been in love, I fight for it. I treat it like a beautiful flower, and I feed and water it, care for it gently, and make sure it has plenty of light. I give it the attention I know it deserves, because if I don't, it may die, and I may never find another flower as pretty as that one.
So, fuckers, did you learn something? No? Well, neither did I. I still fuck up relationships left and right apparently.
But, I do know a few things:
1. Love is worth it. - Whether it be a week or 80 years...find love, and hang on to that shit. It's like a drug.
2. Love is complex. - You won't always get what you want, but when you do, it's THE BOMB!!! *do people still say "THE BOMB!!"?
3. Love is messy. - Along with love, comes broken hearts. Analyze yourself as much as you do the other person. You may be the fucked up part of the equation. But, it's not always pretty, so train yourself to see only the beautiful things in love.
4. Love is rare. - This is for all those people that find Love, but don't give it the respect that it deserves. The cheaters, the lazy cunts, the non-givers...Love is fucking rare. Yes, you will find something that is a FAX'ed version of love again, but you will never find the genuine article more than a couple of times in your life. The FAX'ed version will have a man/woman that says they love you, but still texts old booty calls (do people still say......nevermind), or still keep an open window. If you find it, you stop fucking around, and you work on it. You keep that shit close to your heart, and protect it with all your might, because you're not a fucking vampire, and you don't have hundreds of years to live. You get a couple of shots at this, and if you fuck it up, you're going to be spending a lot of time on Facebook on Valentine's Day, as a Gold Medal Winner at the Masturbation Olympics, and run the chance of telling your niece to delete your porn stash on your computer on your death bed, because you couldn't find a way to commit to a relationship.
5. Love is fucking hard!!! - It's an ever-evolving beast. One month may be all happy-go-lucky, the next is stressed and full of chaos. ADAPT!!! Don't be that person that takes your anger of LIFE out on LOVE! This person is your companion, not your enemy. They chose YOU to go into battle, so treat it as such. Direct your anger to the proper direction. If you can't....join a gym....it helps.
So, there's Knuckles rules for keeping love in your life. I have more, but at this point, I'd have to write a fucking book.
Bottom line...Find love, Nurture Love, Keep Love.
Life is short,
Love hard,
Your Bloody Valentine,
Knuckles
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
A Fistful of Monsters in my Closet...
"Concentrate long enough on a focal point of negativity, and it will consume you wholly." ~ Knuckles
I submit to you, my version of self help for the weak minded fuckwit.
Well, I guess you can be one or the other, or both, and still need this advice, but it will definitely shine some light on all the above.
Negativity is a monster. I mean a real bad, PMS'ing, fire spewing, cunt of a monster. It causes hate. It causes depression. It causes anger, and resentment, and fear, and a whole slew of other shit. Negativity also causes us to see shit with a slanted view. Now, I for one admit to submitting to this demon from time to time. It's a constant uphill battle to fight off this raging whoremonster, but I do a damn good job. But, what I've also learned is that it's harder to UNDO the effects of Negativity than it is to prevent it.
Imagine this:
You're a child. Maybe, 5 or 6 years old. You've got loving parents that buy you nice clothes, fun toys, and have given you a comfortable life. In your bedroom you have your walls painted to your idea of fun specifications, your toys are where you like to keep them, and your clothes are hung neatly in your closet.
One night, you go to bed, and you leave your closet door slightly open, and (unbeknownst to you, there's a sweater sleeve hanging out on the doorknob, a la Monster's Inc) you are in your bed, with the lights out before you notice this. Something goes *bump* in your closet and #POOF!# your sanctuary has all of a sudden become your tomb. You stare into this void...you stare...and stare...and try to make out what it was that made that noise, and you eventually see the sleeve slide off the handle and "HOLY FUCKING SHIT!! IT'S A GOT-DAMNED MONSTER!!!" *BANG!* under your sheets you go to hide, where you are nearly pissing your pants, and you do your best to stay awake until the sun comes up.
Now, as a child, you'll eventually fall asleep, and awaken and wearily open your closet door to find nothing there. But, now the bug has been planted. "There's something in there!" Now your room doesn't feel so bright and happy. You don't see it as Disneyland anymore. More like a torture chamber of doom that some horrible beast is going to jump out and chew off your little cocktail shrimp sized weenie. (I'm a boy, we think of weird shit like that)
=
Now, this is where I like to relay my 90%-10% view on life. You see, that closet consumed that kid...one little fucking thing...consumed his thoughts, his day, his life...and, after checking to see if there was something there, and finding nothing, all he had to do was reassure himself nothing was there, and move on. But, something that was 10% of his day, became 100% thereafter.
Here's where we do this with adults. Say for instance you hear at Church that it's wrong to be gay. You'd never heard that, but you hear it from your Pastor/Preacher/Priest. You go home, and type into Google: Being Gay is Wrong...and KABOOM!!...a million things pop up and you start reading it. You read it into the night, and go to bed thinking about it. Now, you've piqued your interest, and you go back to some of those pages you visited the previous night, at work the next day. The more you read things from "People that know this for a fact" (self proclaimed), the more you feel like YOU know it as fact as well. Now, you start asking around, and find similar minded people to talk about it with. The next thing you know...you're at ant-homosexual rallies spouting bigoted verbality at anyone that will listen.
You had a perfectly happy life. Full of love, happiness, and kindness...and the Negativity consumed you to the point that you forgot about the 90%, and started focusing on the monster in the closet.
=
I see the same thing happen with my friends that are unemployed, or just out of a loving relationship that suddenly failed, or their life just isn't going the way they want. But, they have a friend like me to turn to...a good friend...that's 10% on it's own. They normally have family, that's 10%. A roof over your head -> 10%....and the numbers keep adding up. But, it's that Negative 10% that keeps their attention. I've written blogs before about how these fucked up partners in relationships find a man or woman that is 90% of what they wanted, but they fart in their sleep, or watch Jersey Shore, or some other knuckle dragging nonsense...and, that 10% encompasses them to the point that they start looking for someone that has the 10% that the person that they're with is missing, and eventually leave 90% for the 10% person, and finish unhappy and realize they fucked up when it's too late.
Look cock-knot, we all have a miserable beast in our closet. The best thing to do, is to nut up, and get your weak minded ass out of bed and kick the fucking door shut with authority, and choose happiness/positivity. Because if you walk through life looking into the closet, you're never going to play with your toys, paint your room, hug your parents, or crank on your noodle the same way again. You're constantly going to be looking over your shoulder at that crack in the door and peering inside to see that lack of a job, or that broken heart, or that exploded fuck doll. (or whatever else saddens you)
I know, I know...it's harder than it sounds...but, Tomorrow's big brother is Today, and what Today says...Tomorrow will listen to.
So, do me a favor, and stop hating others. Stop dragging yourself through the mud. Stop focusing on shit that really has nothing that directly effects your day-to-day reality. Other people have their own demons to fight, without you being another one. Because, when you hate, or your down, or when you are just a fuckhole altogether...you sprout horns, grow a tail, and become one of those raging hatemongers, and who wants that to be their legacy?
Kick that door shut. Live in the light. Embrace love. Duct tape that hole in your fuck doll and get back to plowing it, because Tomorrow just told me that Today said "I may not be at the party tomorrow, so toss one back for me!"
I love you all. You inspire me to write. You give my mind a constant workout. And, some of you give me a reason to rub one out. So, to all of you, thank you...you make my heart love more, my brain more intelligent and my....well....we'll leave it at that.
Monsterously yours,
Knuckles
I submit to you, my version of self help for the weak minded fuckwit.
Well, I guess you can be one or the other, or both, and still need this advice, but it will definitely shine some light on all the above.
Negativity is a monster. I mean a real bad, PMS'ing, fire spewing, cunt of a monster. It causes hate. It causes depression. It causes anger, and resentment, and fear, and a whole slew of other shit. Negativity also causes us to see shit with a slanted view. Now, I for one admit to submitting to this demon from time to time. It's a constant uphill battle to fight off this raging whoremonster, but I do a damn good job. But, what I've also learned is that it's harder to UNDO the effects of Negativity than it is to prevent it.
Imagine this:
You're a child. Maybe, 5 or 6 years old. You've got loving parents that buy you nice clothes, fun toys, and have given you a comfortable life. In your bedroom you have your walls painted to your idea of fun specifications, your toys are where you like to keep them, and your clothes are hung neatly in your closet.
One night, you go to bed, and you leave your closet door slightly open, and (unbeknownst to you, there's a sweater sleeve hanging out on the doorknob, a la Monster's Inc) you are in your bed, with the lights out before you notice this. Something goes *bump* in your closet and #POOF!# your sanctuary has all of a sudden become your tomb. You stare into this void...you stare...and stare...and try to make out what it was that made that noise, and you eventually see the sleeve slide off the handle and "HOLY FUCKING SHIT!! IT'S A GOT-DAMNED MONSTER!!!" *BANG!* under your sheets you go to hide, where you are nearly pissing your pants, and you do your best to stay awake until the sun comes up.
Now, as a child, you'll eventually fall asleep, and awaken and wearily open your closet door to find nothing there. But, now the bug has been planted. "There's something in there!" Now your room doesn't feel so bright and happy. You don't see it as Disneyland anymore. More like a torture chamber of doom that some horrible beast is going to jump out and chew off your little cocktail shrimp sized weenie. (I'm a boy, we think of weird shit like that)
=
Now, this is where I like to relay my 90%-10% view on life. You see, that closet consumed that kid...one little fucking thing...consumed his thoughts, his day, his life...and, after checking to see if there was something there, and finding nothing, all he had to do was reassure himself nothing was there, and move on. But, something that was 10% of his day, became 100% thereafter.
Here's where we do this with adults. Say for instance you hear at Church that it's wrong to be gay. You'd never heard that, but you hear it from your Pastor/Preacher/Priest. You go home, and type into Google: Being Gay is Wrong...and KABOOM!!...a million things pop up and you start reading it. You read it into the night, and go to bed thinking about it. Now, you've piqued your interest, and you go back to some of those pages you visited the previous night, at work the next day. The more you read things from "People that know this for a fact" (self proclaimed), the more you feel like YOU know it as fact as well. Now, you start asking around, and find similar minded people to talk about it with. The next thing you know...you're at ant-homosexual rallies spouting bigoted verbality at anyone that will listen.
You had a perfectly happy life. Full of love, happiness, and kindness...and the Negativity consumed you to the point that you forgot about the 90%, and started focusing on the monster in the closet.
=
I see the same thing happen with my friends that are unemployed, or just out of a loving relationship that suddenly failed, or their life just isn't going the way they want. But, they have a friend like me to turn to...a good friend...that's 10% on it's own. They normally have family, that's 10%. A roof over your head -> 10%....and the numbers keep adding up. But, it's that Negative 10% that keeps their attention. I've written blogs before about how these fucked up partners in relationships find a man or woman that is 90% of what they wanted, but they fart in their sleep, or watch Jersey Shore, or some other knuckle dragging nonsense...and, that 10% encompasses them to the point that they start looking for someone that has the 10% that the person that they're with is missing, and eventually leave 90% for the 10% person, and finish unhappy and realize they fucked up when it's too late.
Look cock-knot, we all have a miserable beast in our closet. The best thing to do, is to nut up, and get your weak minded ass out of bed and kick the fucking door shut with authority, and choose happiness/positivity. Because if you walk through life looking into the closet, you're never going to play with your toys, paint your room, hug your parents, or crank on your noodle the same way again. You're constantly going to be looking over your shoulder at that crack in the door and peering inside to see that lack of a job, or that broken heart, or that exploded fuck doll. (or whatever else saddens you)
I know, I know...it's harder than it sounds...but, Tomorrow's big brother is Today, and what Today says...Tomorrow will listen to.
So, do me a favor, and stop hating others. Stop dragging yourself through the mud. Stop focusing on shit that really has nothing that directly effects your day-to-day reality. Other people have their own demons to fight, without you being another one. Because, when you hate, or your down, or when you are just a fuckhole altogether...you sprout horns, grow a tail, and become one of those raging hatemongers, and who wants that to be their legacy?
Kick that door shut. Live in the light. Embrace love. Duct tape that hole in your fuck doll and get back to plowing it, because Tomorrow just told me that Today said "I may not be at the party tomorrow, so toss one back for me!"
I love you all. You inspire me to write. You give my mind a constant workout. And, some of you give me a reason to rub one out. So, to all of you, thank you...you make my heart love more, my brain more intelligent and my....well....we'll leave it at that.
Monsterously yours,
Monday, July 2, 2012
There's No Other Place That I'd Rather Be...
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
RELEASE THE KRAKHEAD!!!!
....see what I did there?....<~~ It's a "Release the Kraken!!" joke....ahhhhh..fuck you, it's funny....
Here's something I haven't touched on in awhile, but really pulls my ball hair.
Self Proclaimed Geniuses/Bitches/Trendsetters/Party Animals....also known as...complete fucking idiots.
Let me start with the one that annoys me beyond all measure. The "Bitch".
"I can go from Zero to Bitch in 1 second flat!" "If being a bitch is what it takes for me to make my point clear, then I guess that's what I'll have to be." and, so on...you all know the person I'm talking about. The female (and sometimes queeny gay guy) that thinks she's being assertive, and aggressive, and Alpha, when all she is proving is her inability to articulate herself well enough to get her pro-idiot point across. "I get called a bitch a lot, but that just shows I stand up for myself." No, it fucking doesn't, it shows you are of inferior intellect and you think that yelling and being condescending will make you feel superior to the person you're locking horns with. When in all actuality, you feel threatened by said person, or else you wouldn't have to act in such a disgusting manner.
Look, no one likes to be made to look a fool. No one, but being a raging cunt only separates you further from the intellectual point you're trying to make to begin with. If you feel that you're a "bad ass", then you're not only mistaken, but also immature in your thought process. Because, life isn't about who can "out-bitch" the person next to you. It's about right and wrong. It's about moral and immoral. It's about being a fucking idiot, and being fucking smart.
Which, brings me to Fucktard Classification #2:
The Self Proclaimed Genius (also known as, someone being "Google Smart")
I will start with a quote from Neil deGrasse Tyson: "With automatic spell checkers running unleashed over what we compose, our era is that of correctly spelled typos."
Yet, you get this onslaught of people that constantly post something to their facebook or twitter accounts that is witty or whimsical that someone else thought up. Whether it's text on an image that says "Fuck This Monday! I'm Ready For Friday!" or a quote by some author or philosopher that they'd never heard of until they'd seen it on someone that they deem "Their Smart Friend"'s wall, and stole it for their own, these people run amok among us. Now, here's where these basement dwellers become scary; They are also the kind of fool that gives out medical advice to people that they drummed up from multitudes of sites they've perused over the internet.
Say, for shits-n-tickles that you have a headache. But, this is no NORMAL headache, it's the headache that puckered your asshole into your lungs. So, you text Fucktardio and ask "You ever had a headache that puckered your asshole into your lungs?" Well, Fucktardio, being the person that he is wants to impress with his superior intellect and begins zipping from site to site with his keywords. "Headache" "Extreme" "Fucking Awful" "Pucker"....what-the-fuck-ever..."Yeah bro, you've got a tumor. You see, my great uncle's aunt was a doctor on my Mom's side, and I was bestowed with all her wisdom. So, trust me, I'm not wrong on this." and then Fucktardio has planted the seed of stupidity into your inferior brain. The problem with the internet is this: There's a difference between fact, information, and news. Any cock-knot can post on a message board, and say he's a Board Certified Physician. (spell check helped him spell all those words, otherwise it would have come out Bored Country Fried Fission) So, you, being Fucktardio, go to this message board and see that this cunt bubble has posted some information for another person that has a similar problem to what you're searching for. You take this as gospel, and go forth with your newfound information, and pollute the world with it. When, all the while, if you would have just said "No fucking clue dude. Go see a doctor like a big boy should." everything would have been fine. After all, your 2 minute Google search is OBVIOUSLY just as reassuring as 12 years of Medical Training.
But, the assholery doesn't stop there. Oh no!! These are the people that ramble adamantly in your face about the most ignorant of shit. Or, if you bring up a topic of discussion, of something...let's say...that they just watched a special on Discovery about, then you have to listen to them correct you, and or "school you" on whatever it is that makes them feel superior. But, as soon as their 1 hours worth of knowledge (including their 15 seconds of knowledge on the new Tide with Bleach...because, let's face it, their knowledge came with commercials) is over, then you get the "guessing" of what it is, and they will fight and argue their point, whether it be true, or not, because they refuse to lose face in such a topic that they just OWNED in their mind. They will bark, embellish, talk over, make fun of your new shirt, or whatever they need to do, just to detract from their lack of information.
Speaking of new shirts...I want to give a massive FUCK YOU!!!! to Ed Hardy and his disgusting and atrocious clothing, and a big THANK YOU!!! to time for slowly making it uncool to wear it.
Trendy-Ass-Posers!!!
By definition, a Poser is: "One who attempts to appear to others as something they are not, especially by their manner of dress; a charlatan". We have in L.A. a time of year we call "Poser Season"....okay, I say "We.", but I mean "Me." It's basically that time of year that Pilot's are being shot. There's a massive influx of 17 to 25 year olds that are looking to be famous, fit in, and be the coolest kid in Hollywood. When, in all actuality, they're just in a pissing contest with one another. Crocs, Ed Hardy, Von Dutch, Juicy Couture, and whatever name brand you can throw at them. They spend more money on trying to be cool, than they do trying to succeed. "I'm wearing sarongs now. Yeah, it's the new thing." Is it reallllllly asshole? Why is it the new thing? Because we're so dumbed down as a society now that we need to look to other cultures to bite off their traditional dress to make a statement?
But, it doesn't stop with clothes. It's their coffee. Their hair products. Their music. It's always so obscure that you just want to punch them. Look, I admit that some things are "better" if they're purchased off the map. But, I don't shove it down everyone's throat I see so that they know I am a "trendsetter".
Here's a laugher. So, I was in Denver a few years back, and my best friend took me to a bar that his wife was dancing at (not that kind of dancing, it was a belly dancing thing, for fuck's sake people, i do have friends with some class after all), and everyone in this joint had those nasty white people dreadlocks and it smelled of patchouli. This broad (waitress) comes over to the table and hands me a one page paper menu and it PROUDLY proclaims at the top that this is an ORGANIC bar. Cool....no problem...
I order a vodka martini when the most annoying and troubling thing comes out of this chicks mouth: "Well, just so you know, our vodka is organic. And, we don't accept credit cards, only checks."
Okay, stooge, you're telling me, rather than me having a piece of plastic that I hold onto for AT LEAST 4 years at a time, cut up at the end, and put in the recycle bin...is somehow WORSE than cutting down thousands, and millions of trees, to make into little pieces of paper that will just get thrown away? Am I missing something here? The lengths that people will go to, just to seem "More organic"...or, in my eyes "cooler and more passionate about life" than the next person, simply amazes me.
And, after all that, I bring myself to my final fuckhole:
The Self Proclaimed Party Animal
This is the person that (male or female) will fit into one of two categories: 1) They know all the cool bars. They know every trendy hotspot for clubs (of which makes them bleed over into the previous category), where the neatest after hours places are, and where everyone is meeting for breakfast. Usually this person has a RotoDial of Skanks and Posers that they can call at any moment and will be at their side. They pretend (or possibly do) know every doorman and bartender, and will consistently let you know so. They throw money around "Even though I don't have to. They know me so well here, I could get comped all night if I wanted.", and do their best to be 'seen'. Or: 2) The person that once had a fairly social life, that hasn't for years, but still proclaims shit like "LET'S TEAR THIS CITY DOWN!!!" when you go out to happy hour. Or "BRO!! I'm going to drink you under the table!!", when you haven't been out with this person in months. Look, dick hole, I'm sorry you had 5 kids, and have a mortgage now, but that doesn't mean you need to try and recapture your youth by excreting pure idiocy from your pores every time we walk through the doors of a bar. You screaming at me and saying "YOU READY FOR SHOTS?!?!?!" does not make a space/time wormhole magically appear around us and scoot us back to a dorm room in college. It looks sad, and desperate and you need to just learn to be secure with your position. And, for the record....No......you fucking can't......[in reference to drinking me under the table: I am a professional drinker, and I should never be challenged, or I shall be forced to expose my true super power]
All-in-all, there's just a multitude of moron in this world lately. I attribute it to this....and, you're going to need to follow me here, it's going to get tricky:
Say, you have an A level student. Pure genius. Knows the subject matter backwards and forwards and is well versed on the whole topic.
This person teaches a class, and a student that also wants to be a teacher/professor (just assume everyone wants to teach after this point), and passes the class with a C.
Okay, so you have a C level student that graduates, and is now teaching students. This teacher teaches a class, and the next kid makes a C in his class. So, what is a C in this class, would have undoubtedly been an F in the first person's class. Yet, he passes, and HE becomes a teacher. Then, you have an ongoing trickle down effect or morons. When, inevitably, you have a knuckle dragging cave dweller teaching a class that he shouldn't even be allowed to collect the garbage for. And, here lies the conundrum...how do we recapture the intellect we once had? Is it a lack of passion? Or just laziness? Is it a lack of knowledge that we're all becoming inferior humans? Or, is it just that we know, but don't give a fuck?
Regardless of what it is, I think that we need to have more people creating quotable quotes, and less people reposting someone elses intelligent quips. We need less people biting off someone elses flavor, and more innovators. We just need to wise up, and start being better humans again.
When we start having a generation of kids that act like drug addicts, without actually taking the drugs, then we have a problem. I don't want to grow old with some kid that watched Jersey Shore all the way through college as President.
We already elected one retard. Isn't that enough?
Anyhow, go read a book, or take a class, or just open your mind to the fact that you're more than the clothes you wear, the labels that surround you, and the quotes your rip off. You're a unique human. One squiggly spooge that made it to an egg. So, stand up, have some pride, and don't ACT smarter...MAKE yourself smarter.
And, please, put down the fucking phone when I ask you a question you don't know...I know you have google on quick launch. Idiot.
Moronically yours,
Knuckles
Here's something I haven't touched on in awhile, but really pulls my ball hair.
Self Proclaimed Geniuses/Bitches/Trendsetters/Party Animals....also known as...complete fucking idiots.
Let me start with the one that annoys me beyond all measure. The "Bitch".
"I can go from Zero to Bitch in 1 second flat!" "If being a bitch is what it takes for me to make my point clear, then I guess that's what I'll have to be." and, so on...you all know the person I'm talking about. The female (and sometimes queeny gay guy) that thinks she's being assertive, and aggressive, and Alpha, when all she is proving is her inability to articulate herself well enough to get her pro-idiot point across. "I get called a bitch a lot, but that just shows I stand up for myself." No, it fucking doesn't, it shows you are of inferior intellect and you think that yelling and being condescending will make you feel superior to the person you're locking horns with. When in all actuality, you feel threatened by said person, or else you wouldn't have to act in such a disgusting manner.
Look, no one likes to be made to look a fool. No one, but being a raging cunt only separates you further from the intellectual point you're trying to make to begin with. If you feel that you're a "bad ass", then you're not only mistaken, but also immature in your thought process. Because, life isn't about who can "out-bitch" the person next to you. It's about right and wrong. It's about moral and immoral. It's about being a fucking idiot, and being fucking smart.
Which, brings me to Fucktard Classification #2:
The Self Proclaimed Genius (also known as, someone being "Google Smart")
I will start with a quote from Neil deGrasse Tyson: "With automatic spell checkers running unleashed over what we compose, our era is that of correctly spelled typos."
Yet, you get this onslaught of people that constantly post something to their facebook or twitter accounts that is witty or whimsical that someone else thought up. Whether it's text on an image that says "Fuck This Monday! I'm Ready For Friday!" or a quote by some author or philosopher that they'd never heard of until they'd seen it on someone that they deem "Their Smart Friend"'s wall, and stole it for their own, these people run amok among us. Now, here's where these basement dwellers become scary; They are also the kind of fool that gives out medical advice to people that they drummed up from multitudes of sites they've perused over the internet.
Say, for shits-n-tickles that you have a headache. But, this is no NORMAL headache, it's the headache that puckered your asshole into your lungs. So, you text Fucktardio and ask "You ever had a headache that puckered your asshole into your lungs?" Well, Fucktardio, being the person that he is wants to impress with his superior intellect and begins zipping from site to site with his keywords. "Headache" "Extreme" "Fucking Awful" "Pucker"....what-the-fuck-ever..."Yeah bro, you've got a tumor. You see, my great uncle's aunt was a doctor on my Mom's side, and I was bestowed with all her wisdom. So, trust me, I'm not wrong on this." and then Fucktardio has planted the seed of stupidity into your inferior brain. The problem with the internet is this: There's a difference between fact, information, and news. Any cock-knot can post on a message board, and say he's a Board Certified Physician. (spell check helped him spell all those words, otherwise it would have come out Bored Country Fried Fission) So, you, being Fucktardio, go to this message board and see that this cunt bubble has posted some information for another person that has a similar problem to what you're searching for. You take this as gospel, and go forth with your newfound information, and pollute the world with it. When, all the while, if you would have just said "No fucking clue dude. Go see a doctor like a big boy should." everything would have been fine. After all, your 2 minute Google search is OBVIOUSLY just as reassuring as 12 years of Medical Training.
But, the assholery doesn't stop there. Oh no!! These are the people that ramble adamantly in your face about the most ignorant of shit. Or, if you bring up a topic of discussion, of something...let's say...that they just watched a special on Discovery about, then you have to listen to them correct you, and or "school you" on whatever it is that makes them feel superior. But, as soon as their 1 hours worth of knowledge (including their 15 seconds of knowledge on the new Tide with Bleach...because, let's face it, their knowledge came with commercials) is over, then you get the "guessing" of what it is, and they will fight and argue their point, whether it be true, or not, because they refuse to lose face in such a topic that they just OWNED in their mind. They will bark, embellish, talk over, make fun of your new shirt, or whatever they need to do, just to detract from their lack of information.
Speaking of new shirts...I want to give a massive FUCK YOU!!!! to Ed Hardy and his disgusting and atrocious clothing, and a big THANK YOU!!! to time for slowly making it uncool to wear it.
Trendy-Ass-Posers!!!
By definition, a Poser is: "One who attempts to appear to others as something they are not, especially by their manner of dress; a charlatan". We have in L.A. a time of year we call "Poser Season"....okay, I say "We.", but I mean "Me." It's basically that time of year that Pilot's are being shot. There's a massive influx of 17 to 25 year olds that are looking to be famous, fit in, and be the coolest kid in Hollywood. When, in all actuality, they're just in a pissing contest with one another. Crocs, Ed Hardy, Von Dutch, Juicy Couture, and whatever name brand you can throw at them. They spend more money on trying to be cool, than they do trying to succeed. "I'm wearing sarongs now. Yeah, it's the new thing." Is it reallllllly asshole? Why is it the new thing? Because we're so dumbed down as a society now that we need to look to other cultures to bite off their traditional dress to make a statement?
But, it doesn't stop with clothes. It's their coffee. Their hair products. Their music. It's always so obscure that you just want to punch them. Look, I admit that some things are "better" if they're purchased off the map. But, I don't shove it down everyone's throat I see so that they know I am a "trendsetter".
Here's a laugher. So, I was in Denver a few years back, and my best friend took me to a bar that his wife was dancing at (not that kind of dancing, it was a belly dancing thing, for fuck's sake people, i do have friends with some class after all), and everyone in this joint had those nasty white people dreadlocks and it smelled of patchouli. This broad (waitress) comes over to the table and hands me a one page paper menu and it PROUDLY proclaims at the top that this is an ORGANIC bar. Cool....no problem...
I order a vodka martini when the most annoying and troubling thing comes out of this chicks mouth: "Well, just so you know, our vodka is organic. And, we don't accept credit cards, only checks."
Okay, stooge, you're telling me, rather than me having a piece of plastic that I hold onto for AT LEAST 4 years at a time, cut up at the end, and put in the recycle bin...is somehow WORSE than cutting down thousands, and millions of trees, to make into little pieces of paper that will just get thrown away? Am I missing something here? The lengths that people will go to, just to seem "More organic"...or, in my eyes "cooler and more passionate about life" than the next person, simply amazes me.
And, after all that, I bring myself to my final fuckhole:
The Self Proclaimed Party Animal
This is the person that (male or female) will fit into one of two categories: 1) They know all the cool bars. They know every trendy hotspot for clubs (of which makes them bleed over into the previous category), where the neatest after hours places are, and where everyone is meeting for breakfast. Usually this person has a RotoDial of Skanks and Posers that they can call at any moment and will be at their side. They pretend (or possibly do) know every doorman and bartender, and will consistently let you know so. They throw money around "Even though I don't have to. They know me so well here, I could get comped all night if I wanted.", and do their best to be 'seen'. Or: 2) The person that once had a fairly social life, that hasn't for years, but still proclaims shit like "LET'S TEAR THIS CITY DOWN!!!" when you go out to happy hour. Or "BRO!! I'm going to drink you under the table!!", when you haven't been out with this person in months. Look, dick hole, I'm sorry you had 5 kids, and have a mortgage now, but that doesn't mean you need to try and recapture your youth by excreting pure idiocy from your pores every time we walk through the doors of a bar. You screaming at me and saying "YOU READY FOR SHOTS?!?!?!" does not make a space/time wormhole magically appear around us and scoot us back to a dorm room in college. It looks sad, and desperate and you need to just learn to be secure with your position. And, for the record....No......you fucking can't......[in reference to drinking me under the table: I am a professional drinker, and I should never be challenged, or I shall be forced to expose my true super power]
All-in-all, there's just a multitude of moron in this world lately. I attribute it to this....and, you're going to need to follow me here, it's going to get tricky:
Say, you have an A level student. Pure genius. Knows the subject matter backwards and forwards and is well versed on the whole topic.
This person teaches a class, and a student that also wants to be a teacher/professor (just assume everyone wants to teach after this point), and passes the class with a C.
Okay, so you have a C level student that graduates, and is now teaching students. This teacher teaches a class, and the next kid makes a C in his class. So, what is a C in this class, would have undoubtedly been an F in the first person's class. Yet, he passes, and HE becomes a teacher. Then, you have an ongoing trickle down effect or morons. When, inevitably, you have a knuckle dragging cave dweller teaching a class that he shouldn't even be allowed to collect the garbage for. And, here lies the conundrum...how do we recapture the intellect we once had? Is it a lack of passion? Or just laziness? Is it a lack of knowledge that we're all becoming inferior humans? Or, is it just that we know, but don't give a fuck?
Regardless of what it is, I think that we need to have more people creating quotable quotes, and less people reposting someone elses intelligent quips. We need less people biting off someone elses flavor, and more innovators. We just need to wise up, and start being better humans again.
When we start having a generation of kids that act like drug addicts, without actually taking the drugs, then we have a problem. I don't want to grow old with some kid that watched Jersey Shore all the way through college as President.
We already elected one retard. Isn't that enough?
Anyhow, go read a book, or take a class, or just open your mind to the fact that you're more than the clothes you wear, the labels that surround you, and the quotes your rip off. You're a unique human. One squiggly spooge that made it to an egg. So, stand up, have some pride, and don't ACT smarter...MAKE yourself smarter.
And, please, put down the fucking phone when I ask you a question you don't know...I know you have google on quick launch. Idiot.
Moronically yours,
Knuckles
Saturday, November 20, 2010
You're your own pussy...
No, morons, I'm not talking about fucking your fist. I'm talking about being "Your own worst enemy."
Let me explain.
I get this a lot: "Wow, you've got a positive approach to nearly everything. You have a lot of bad shit going on in your life, yet you always seem to be happy. Is it a front?" No. Idiot. It's not. I'll tell you how I do it.
I go about life knowing that most people are stupid. Individuals can be intelligent, as I've stated, but as a whole the world is a negative, and horrible place. The news, never reports happiness, or "Everything was fine today in Burbank, California. Nothing happened, and everyone seems well fed and content with life." No, it's always about gunshots, death, murder, kidnapping, and such.
Commercials for Vegas never say "We have a great economy, and our water supply is not tainted with any chemicals. Life is good." No, it claims, "Come here, our hookers don't have STD's, infidelity is encouraged, and you can create a few new addictions with drugs, and gambling being rampant."
So, with so much negativity surrounding us at all points in society, compiled with your own demons, how is it possible to fight a war that will never be won.
Simple. You are your own vessel of happiness.
Jersey Shore is a television show full of uneducated morons, that have fame and (now) money. You can say "I wish I had that money/fame/attention." Or, you can do as I do, and paint a clown face on each of them and see it as a comedy.
People see all around them that Text Speak is dominating the way people write. Even if it's NOT 140 characters or less. I see it as, "This gives me the opportunity to prove that I'm more intelligent than Mr. I hv HEART 4U BAYBE!!" And, I laugh.
If you are looking at the world and thinking "Where is the happiness? I want to be happy!" You're looking to the WORLD to make you happy. It's not up to the world to create your happiness. No more than looking to a lottery ticket to make you "A Success". Creation is from within. You create happiness. You create fun. You create drive, ambition, passion, excitement....
If you can't find these things within, then how do you expect to recognize them, without?
Look, I get the whole "The world is a monster." thing. But, don't be a pussy. If you want to be strong, happy, or what-the-fuck-ever....grow a pair of bristly haired, bloody veined, heavy weighing balls, and stop being a puss. Otherwise, you will be perpetually in a cycle of "Oh, woe is me!"
Be the change you want to see.
Bitches.
Your guru in disguise,
Knuckles
I don't think I'm ever going to reach that perfect level of drunk....does that count as a pussy-assed complaint?
Let me explain.
I get this a lot: "Wow, you've got a positive approach to nearly everything. You have a lot of bad shit going on in your life, yet you always seem to be happy. Is it a front?" No. Idiot. It's not. I'll tell you how I do it.
I go about life knowing that most people are stupid. Individuals can be intelligent, as I've stated, but as a whole the world is a negative, and horrible place. The news, never reports happiness, or "Everything was fine today in Burbank, California. Nothing happened, and everyone seems well fed and content with life." No, it's always about gunshots, death, murder, kidnapping, and such.
Commercials for Vegas never say "We have a great economy, and our water supply is not tainted with any chemicals. Life is good." No, it claims, "Come here, our hookers don't have STD's, infidelity is encouraged, and you can create a few new addictions with drugs, and gambling being rampant."
So, with so much negativity surrounding us at all points in society, compiled with your own demons, how is it possible to fight a war that will never be won.
Simple. You are your own vessel of happiness.
Jersey Shore is a television show full of uneducated morons, that have fame and (now) money. You can say "I wish I had that money/fame/attention." Or, you can do as I do, and paint a clown face on each of them and see it as a comedy.
People see all around them that Text Speak is dominating the way people write. Even if it's NOT 140 characters or less. I see it as, "This gives me the opportunity to prove that I'm more intelligent than Mr. I hv HEART 4U BAYBE!!" And, I laugh.
If you are looking at the world and thinking "Where is the happiness? I want to be happy!" You're looking to the WORLD to make you happy. It's not up to the world to create your happiness. No more than looking to a lottery ticket to make you "A Success". Creation is from within. You create happiness. You create fun. You create drive, ambition, passion, excitement....
If you can't find these things within, then how do you expect to recognize them, without?
Look, I get the whole "The world is a monster." thing. But, don't be a pussy. If you want to be strong, happy, or what-the-fuck-ever....grow a pair of bristly haired, bloody veined, heavy weighing balls, and stop being a puss. Otherwise, you will be perpetually in a cycle of "Oh, woe is me!"
Be the change you want to see.
Bitches.
Your guru in disguise,
Knuckles
I don't think I'm ever going to reach that perfect level of drunk....does that count as a pussy-assed complaint?
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