Interview

Today I have an interview. This comes between me and archery practice. Of course, you’re probably thinking, I could always practice archery before the interview, but I really don’t want to walk into an interview, smelling like effing Robin Hood. Well, Steve, what about after the interview, you ask. And to this question I answer with another question, what if I don’t get the job? Do you really think it’s best to be harnessing the power of a compound bow after being let down on such an important issue? Say I do get the job, I’ll probably celebrate with a few cocktails, and then again, should one be firing arrows while slightly buzzed? I can’t go bow shooting at all today, and in this I mope.

Crawdaddy Theology

We sat on the banks of the decaying river, armed with Red Ryders, mine still with leather tassels  attached, looking into the depths. And yes, we’d provoke them, it wasn’t always easy. Lifting up rocks, they’d fly to another rock and bury themselves beneath. We built a ring of rocks (must have done) and herded them there, where their once wild lives were brought to an end with our barrels in the water. We’d pick them up out of the river, and lay them on the bank to dry and stink. I remember thinking some of them were stronger than the others, they weren’t always the same size, but they all died. Lesson learned? It doesn’t matter how big you are when you’re found hiding underneath a rock. Pow.

WI

All my pasts are locked in a black and white room, they shiver in the corner. Cold winter screams, and soft death chants do taunt them, but they fall back asleep. Upon waking, they’re confussed, thinking, this isn’t my fucking corner.

Looking for that missing part of my brain. Dislikes giving advice to people. Feels like my heart may be on the right side of my body. Thinking I hate the town I grew up in. Wish I had an old fashioned sail boat with nets strewn about it, and crates of bananas on deck as well. Ran into the first bear that wasn’t afraid of me, and all I could think was, “wow, you’ve got some big tits for a bear. And you’re not afraid of me.” Hoping Santa Cruz will be all sunshines and smiles. Slowly drifting away from coffee as there is a cold floating around here. Don’t know if there’s a video game that could every make me feel like a middle school child again. Likes to run and jump when the weather is nice. Sometimes I still day dream about being a rock star, and then realize I wouldn’t like it. Loves Christmas, but who doesn’t? And I’m not getting drunk on whiskey again if I’m spending X-mas with the rents. I get sweary. Hand-me-down-clothes are still my favorite. I want to discover Noah’s Ark some where in the mountains and climb and play all over it for years. I want a day off just about every day. I try to treat my Xterra like it’s a space ship, and when it looks like shit I think Han Solo would be proud. I think I broke my right hand’s middle finger, and am not sure how that happened. Young girls will always talk about love, and old ladies will always day dream about it. Wish I had a tittle like Sir or Knight or Count or Duke or Lord, but then if I did I would insist that you just call me “steve” or “steven”. Wish I could understand everything I read. Wish I could make everyone (well most) people happy. Am greatful for my health, friends, and family. I should write my Grandma more. Isolation would be nice if I could decide when and where.

Proverbs

When I was young, I used to think all songs were about love, but I have finally come to realize that it wasn’t love they were singing about, but rather fucking. Ah yes, the ancient art of fucking. I also used to think that if you talked loud enough, people would listen to you no matter what.

Answers

As my lack of answers grow ever larger, and my care for the outcome of humanity ever dwindling, I drink my coffee and breathe deeply, waiting for dinner and football. Everyone is a terrorist, and now, I too am one, laying in wait for countries and governments to detonate, and cold six packs to accumulate in my fridge, for when shit goes to shit, I will still have my beer, and studies show in the aftermath of any disaster, a cold brew is a better motivator than a twenty dollar bill, because in aftermath’s of disasters, you most likely will not be able to go to Sears to get that tool you need. Alcohol will be my little helping hand, and the fiver in my wallet, and my liquid courage. I wait and listen.

Oh oh, but not all is lost, not all forsaken. Patience and faith.

Detox

I need a dream. Things get done when dreams are had. As of right now the only dream I can see is being a child and running all over the world. But what kind of dream is that? What are the subplots to this dream, and what is it that I need to be running all over? Questions and silence. I need to grab a sledge hammer and work it out. I need to knock down some of these  walls that are preventing my dreams from expanding into the realms of reality. Dr. Iran needs a bullet in the head. Maybe I’ll become a nightmare and go kill. Maybe I’ll fall off this planet. Maybe I don’t care. Maybe I’ll sit crossed legged while this world destructs. I’ve burnt money before, in fire pits, maybe I’ll close my bank account, and let the soles of my feet harden from the lack of shoes. I’ll eat grass and drink mud, and live in trees, and when I feel the urge, capture creatures for nourishment. Maybe I’ll go to town today and feel completely different by the time I return. Maybe I just need to detox.

beans

intro:

Got schooled in a foose ball tournament by a group of Germans.

the next day:

Going to man up and put an exhaust on my car, and drive around with throaty authority. The revilage of cleavage.

truth

I’m 24, and there’s so much more…

Tru

“Dude, you look bad -ass with your sleeves rolled up like that!”

A quote someone actually said to me.