and that's that

It's the last night and the end of this chapter.

See you tonight Rockers.

Happy Trails - Dale Evans, Dal...

And one more because my dad used to sing this song to me to ease my mind when I was just a little boy.

Red River Valley - Gene Autry

lent

bruce is giving up: soda, fast food, french fries, sweets besides cookies. bruce is also pledging to be more active and to try to be less negative even when he feels negative.

holding the line

I got soccer tonight and am truthfully less then excited. Since we've organized this team we've never had a reliable goalie and now the guy I thought I had is out the rest of the season. So that leaves me between the bars and less then hopeful because soccer is hard when you're playing where you aren't supposed to play. If I can see the ball well and if I can get off my line I might be able to help my team stay close. This week is do or die time, in a seven game season starting with straight losses can really cripple any hope for the playoffs. I want the playoffs. To get there I have to suddenly get great at something I've never even done well. Just another way I'm waiting for inspiration but it might be as simple as emailing the league and seeing if they would mind be playing with plug of red man in my lip. Yeaaaaaah.

noise pop and i'm getting old

it must have been 2005 when I was going to two and three noise pop shows a night. all over town. bands of whom i'd only heard the faintest murmur. the cafe du nord, great american, wherever, whenever and i should have just hired a driver. it's noise pop week again and i saw the broken west last night and will see ra ra riot friday night. if CL proves lucky to me i might even get ambitious and check out ac newman on saturday but that sure sounds ambitious when i consider everything else going on that day. it used to be i'd hardly go a week without seeing some band play some venue but now it feels like the shows are getting late and the bands obscure. somewhere the last year i lost my love for discovering new music. outside of the the gaslight anthem i can't remember the last band i've listened to fresh and felt raw to their music. everything isn't the strokes, the white stripes, arcade fire or any of the dozens of groups i spent half of this decade following. either something in me died or the music isn't being written about me anymore. i rarely see my life reflected anymore and that might be why i loved boxer so much, it felt professional, collared shirts and finding a way through the corporate jungle. or maybe the past three years, october 2006 to present have aged me in more ways then i care to admit and with that i've lost something young and vital. sometimes i pace around and hope to be released, music has done it before but it isn't saving me right now. i have hope yet for coachella because i never think with more clarity then i do during the warm desert nights unique to the american southwest. the edge of the former frontier and with soil as acidic as my heart. who knows then, maybe someone will sound like radiohead sounded in 2004 under a canopy of stars and floodlights. but that was nearly five years ago and i don't know that i'll ever go back.

young and oh man

I'm a thick skulled man most of the time, stubborn and prideful but that projects outwards. My same thick skull keeps me from learning like I should. Last night I was blown up for being honest and as I sit here I must ponder what the fuck good is honesty anyway? I've gotten in fewer binds being dishonest then I have telling the truth. Life is easiest when I keep my mouth shut but that's hard for me but things wouldn't be so hard if I just lied more. I have these conversations where I express what is on my mind, both fairly and truthfully and then I get lectured on semantics and the message I've taken after these lectures is that it's better to be less truthful. It used to be white lies were only for insignificant occasions but I'm starting to think the key to a happy and successful life is to never say anything that isn't exactly what the person you are speaking with would like to hear.

and how we sleep peacefully. alone. together.

tonight, tomorrow and then friday and saturday.

it's like hunger but without the promise of food. an empty needle plunging into my arm, all the pain of penetration and none of the promised high.

there goes the best of me and it isn't even very good.

it's just one more NP party. Not like last year, last year had a day that doesn't happen this year. i remember that.

under appreciated

I've been feeling distinctly under appreciated lately but I'm not the type to complain. I just keep working and working and I always find a way to get everything done. Appreciation doesn't pay the bills or find solutions to the problems at hand but it is, I guess, appreciated. The other night four of us were waiting for a table at Tommy's and we all wanted a pitcher of margarita's but no one was willing to get up and go wait at the bar. It was pretty plain to see that no one was going to do something that anyone could do because everyone was hoping someone else would pick up the burden. Lately I've felt like I've been the person picking up all kinds of burdens while other people around me get to be wrapped up in their supposedly more important lives. I'm just a working stiff, what's a little more for me to do? Again and again it seems to be next to nothing, another drop in the bucket, another bucket in the sea.

upon further review...

I'm still not in any kind of music band. But I can split 8's like a man with twice my courage.

we must move on, we must move forward

This afternoon a perfectly decent day turned dark and I feel like I've been kicked in the head. Work jumped me like I was a drunk frat boy wandering through the Tenderloin. My organs have been violently crushed and my eyes gouged.

And it isn't really the weekend. I have more to do tomorrow then I did today. The other night my friend and I ended up drinking beers in a hot tub at a party where we didn't know really know anyone. We might have sat there for an hour, banquet beers in hand and avoiding meeting new people. It was our style. We had lots to consider and ever so briefly this was a thrilling week. 714 is living again as the 357, starting in Vegas with Chamberfuck included before permanently adding Jimmy Jam to the circus. As I said, thrilling but that was before we lost our game and I woke up and came to work and got jumped. So what, I go back to the start and find a way through the maze, over the fence and behind your back and to the end. I've gotten soft the past few years, I've gotten used to being comfortable and all to eager to take the helping hand. My plan is to simplify and do it all myself. I've got a good role model for the new plan. But fucking hell, I'm going to hate how much I swear, I'm going to hate how much I drink.

I know someone turning 77 and he changed my life and stood next to me. He's the closest thing to a patriarch my family has and is a true working man.

77. Happy Birthday.

see ya late rockers.

yikes! it's thursday!

We go at 8:20 at Crocker Amazon. I'm predicting a victory tonight. Joe Namath style.

improvements being necessary

I got lots of bad habits and I mutter hateful things under my breath. My friends don't mind so much because I'm pretty loyal and usually down for drinks.

But, all the same, I have a habit I have to change. When I see a celebrity I generally look at em for a second and then go "hey, that's ________." And then they look at me like I'm a moron because they clearly already know who they are.

Earlier today I saw Phil Jackson coming out of the elevator, he was walking hunched over and in conversation with someone I didn't recognize. We made brief eye contact and then I say: "hey, that's Phil Jackson." He glanced at me like I was captain of the half wit all stars before shuffling off towards wherever Phil Jackson goes at 3 in the afternoon before a game in Oakland.

Fail Fail Fail

frank chu!

Friday night I drank some mixed drinks at work at a party over on Capp. After teaching a couple of men how to deal blackjack and eating half a tin of cashews I was pretty drunk and still not gay so the stunning lack of oscar's in a sea of actual Oscar's was not tenable. Small jeans and I walked over to Bart and headed home, I was thinking of switching at Powell but then at Civic Center !HOLY SHIT! Frank Chu sat down next to me!

Right off the bat my plan to get off at Powell was changed. I had Frank's company and he was a pretty normal guy. He kept his eponymous sign tucked under his coat and said he was just trying to get home to Chinatown in Oakland. Of course we started talking about the end of the world. I asked him if the Mayans were right and if the world was going to come to a fiery end on December 21st, 2012. Frank claims he did not know but by that date there will be many many galaxies.

'The end of the world would not matter as much as the many many galaxies because they are so many and they are truth and our minds will not be controlled any longer.'

Frank looked tired and I could understand, it was nearly 1 am when I left his company at the Embarcadero. I'm guessing he'd been pacing the city and holding his sign for at least 16 hours. Guessing at mental illness is a fun parlor game in elite and politically correct San Francisco but I don't think it'd be fair to label Frank mentally ill. He's got his beliefs and they are strong enough to keep him on his feet all day long, most days of the year. I can respect that.

maybe this isn't the only time

My three day weekend started a day early so I'm working on Presidents Day. It's a diluted holiday anyway. For as much as we might be celebrating the great President's were also celebrating the bad...so raise a glass to whatever President your political affiliation has you despise the most. I'd rather Presidents Day be changed to Purple Heart Day but that probably won't happen. And not only diluted...it also rained most of the weekend. The sledders and curlers were happy because conditions were finally optimal at Tahoe but I was saddened because I don't get that into being soaked. February is turning into a race to the finish, the calendar on my desk is frighteningly full. There are floorboards to clean and walls to wash, hot tubs to dream about and concerts to see. I leave for Vegas in 17 days and everything must be done before I get on the plane. It's funny to think that in 25 days most all of my life will have been torn down and rebuilt. More to follow when the time is right.

it's the younger generation and the future is as sly as a fox

it's the famine and you with the food is not triumphantly returning.

nothing i've done recently deserves a victory parade or garlands or a crown.

it's friday and that's enough. tomorrow is saturday and the day after is sunday.

see you next week rockers.

memory and loss

This blog will be dark until Friday.

...

test

at the very end of the day

Gran Torino was a terrific movie. 

I got around and looked and found the last Coors Light and it's so good. A silver bullet eases me into the morning.

in the cool dark night

Some creation stories can never be told. There were 7 good days and the rest is between the sheets, between lovers, secrets, lies and round and round. 

the tracks are crooked and the train is slow

A month or so ago I said this year was going to be a bloodbath and I was right. This week has run me nearly ragged but I'm happy. Happy. It's been a good week and people have been honest. Lots of little fires to put out but no kind of conflagration to scare me or overwhelm my time and resources.

And you could say that I'm learning. It's been awhile since I've needed to learn anything new. This week I've had lessons in semantics, statistics, politics, masonry and my sad tendency to add to the burgeoning unemployment statistics. I sent someone to be drug screened today but they ran out of pee before hitting the right line on the inside of the cup and instead of staying a drinking gatorade they took off to Stockton, unreachable and disqualified from employment. Despite my best efforts I've contributed to the great American lay off. When I click on the SFGATE and they claim 598,000 jobs lost I know that it was really 598,001. And I'd like to apologize to President Obama because that last number, not rounded off and neat, well, it just might stick in his craw. My bad.

No Rockers this week.

Well. Bye.

no retreat, acknowledged regrets

You're fine now and young but your heart hasn't yet been touched by the fire you think it has been touched by. As long as your pretty face holds they'll always be a line, suitors, men with dreams that you can be slotted into. But hey, it's more then that when it's less then your best so I hope you find a man that you'll smile with in the pictures. The foundation will crumble before the facade rises above the street, sunk costs and heartache. We're young and we'll be alright because youth, while not endless, can be almost endlessly traded, on top or bottom, in or out and without regard to the risks inherent in trading our passions and hopes for tiny moments of fleeting companionship.

This is the other. These are the labels, the divisions and little lines to battle over. We all have shields and swords and we'll never leave them at home.

and how i hope your car is jacked up

The best of my week thus far was discovering the extensive damage some fucktard did to my fifth floor nest gates. Now the whole assembly is exactly 75% broken and my staff and I are having to scramble to put together a fix that won't break the bank. You'd laugh if you had seen us rigging up tow ropes and trying to drag a 3,000 pound concrete slab...well, laughed and suggested we rent a fork lift. My problems are mounting. Clearly. At least I know somewhere there is a person with a fucked up car and a ton of bad karma.