It is What it Is

You wake up, look at the clock and realize you have to be at work in 2 hours. As you rub your eyes and attempt to shake off the fog from the night prior, you look around and see three people sleeping on the floor and beer cans scattered everywhere. The activities from last night's soiree come flooding back. You laugh and light a cigarette. You smile at some of the things that took place the night before as you also try to block out some of the others. You finish your cigarette and walk around the living room and start kicking the folks on the floor to wake them up. You notice one has a black eye and that's when you feel the pain in your hand and look down and see your knuckles are swollen."Again?", you say to yourself. Everyone rises like the walking dead and exit as the scent of another wasted night and brain cells follow them out. No goodbyes, hugs, hand shakes or any of that, just blood shot eyes and attempts to find their cars. You survey the room, laugh again and get ready for work. It is what it is... Peaces and Creases TBN Out

Coaching

I grew up playing football, basketball, baseball and soccer as a kid. Then I ran cross country and track. You might have noticed you didn't see softball anywhere in that statement. Not really a sport (if you want to call it one) that I know much about. Jokes, but fa real I don't know much about softball. I was a pick up player for an adult softball league for about a minute and a half. That is the extent of my experience with softball. Now I find myself as the MOR for my daughter's 8U team. Let me translate for those of you who have not had the oppurtunity to immerse yourself in this beautifal game that the little one's love to partake. MOR means Manager on Record and 8U means 8 and under. So I am managing a group of girls who are in or around the second grade, a sport I know nothing about. Well that is not totally true, I've been coaching my little one since 6U in some shape form or fashion. You may be asking me where I am going with this, because I just asked myself the same. Being a coach for children is an amazing experience. Real Talk. I may be deficient in my knowledge of softball but these kids don't know that. They just want to have fun playing a sport regardless of which one. I've coached cross country, soccer and now softball. Softball is a different animal but I will speak on that later (lots of expectations). I LOVE being called Coach George. These kids that you are instructing have placed their complete trust in you as a coach. You tell them to go that way, they go that way, you tell them to run for a mistake, they run. They believe in you and trust that as their coach you are telling them the right thing to do without question. That is an amazing feeling. One of my favorites when coaching youth softball: I'm yelling at one my players from the sidline and they turn and look at me, glove and hands on knees, we lock eyes and I deliver my instruction. She knods her head and says "yes coach". THEY DO IT even know I barely know what I am doing! It's a beautifal thing to be a part of. Obvioulsy as they get older things will undoubtebtly change. The fun department will start closing it's doors and the competitive department will start putting a Walmart on every corner. I get it, its inevetible. The fun of the sport will eventually be overtaken by select teams, high school ball, eventual scholarships etc. That is the way of the world. However, not every girl is going to, or strive to make a select team, or play on thier high school varsity team, earn a scholarship. Some girls just want to have fun and learn the game of Softball and I am grateful that I can be a part in making that happen. I get asked to coach every season and I make a big deal about how I'm not going to do it. I end up doing it everytime, "GLOVES DOWN, PLAYS AT 2! YES COACH". I don't have to convinvce them the play is at 2, they simply believe that as their Coach, I am telling them the correct thing to do. And that's the beauty of coaching any sport. Peices and Creases TBN Out

Last Try

Is it Sunday already? I need to climb... or mow the grass... or do absolutely nothing. BUT that is what I have done all week. But I deserve a week off, I did a triathlon last weekend, dont I deserve a week off? Then the proverbial angel on my shoulder says, "NO! You havent climbed in like 2 weeks! Get your ass up". So in order to circumvent my conscience I message B-Town to see if he is climbing. Of course he says yes. Mind you it's a tight game between the Sixers and Wizards, first round of the NBA Playoffs and my feet kicked up on the couch enjoying the absence of my wife and kids.Then my wife returns home from the store and I attempt another way out of going to the gym. I say: "You know I'm thinking about climbing today, but haven't I done enough, don't I deserve a week off"? Crickets... she doesn't even respond, just starts unloading groceries. So now I have no excuse except for my own weak one's. So I get off the couch and tell myself just put on some pants. Then a shirt. Ok lets just start driving in the direction of the gym and if you change your mind you can always just turn around and head home. I hop on the beltway and it starts pissing cats ansd dogs. I'm like YES! Perfect reason to turn around and go home (the devil on my shoulder tells me). But Angel is like: well your already on the beltway, might as well just keep on going. So I say fuck it, might as well. I arrive and there is like 9,000 cars in the parking lot. I walk thru the doors and immediatly to my left I see B-Town intensly watching a guy climb something that immediatly made me want to put some chalk on my hands and jump up there with him. HAHAHA. Not at at all, homeboy was climbing a V10. So on a scale of 1-10, 10 is the hardest. It actually made me want to turn around and go right back to my truck, rub chalk on my hands so when I got home I could tell me wife that I climbed. I just walk by and hope they don't see me enter. They did not. I warmup on some easy routes and get up my confidence to go speak to my buddy. Here is what I say, "this is where the professionals hang out I see"? My buddy is engrossed in his buddy climbing a V whatever. Thankfully his wife luaghs at my comment or I might have had a panic attack. B-Town acknolegdes my existance and goes back to being a spider monkey.His wife kinda tries to talk to me into some routes in the "Pro Zone" to which I politely decline and go find the "Loser Zone". Ok, so now that I am done with that complete tangent I can get to, as they like to say in climbing "The Crux" of this story. I put in some good work in the "Loser Zone". Then I see this group trying this route.... the holds are purple (which means easy) so I automatically assume it's easy. I watch a guy try it, pretty heavy set gentlemen, and think well he can't make that move because he's fat. Excuse my courseness, thats not nice to say but it is my story. They eventually move along. Now its my turn to try this route that I so crassly called this guy fat because he couldnt make a certain move. I get up there and low and behold I cant make the same fucking move! Who's fat now idiot! I try once, twice, three times. Some hippy ass chick is laying next to where I am embarrassing myself and gets up on my route. I'm not happy about it but I do want to see if she can send it. Sorry I'm using a lot of climbing lingo, "send" means reach the top/finish. Long strory short she fucking cheated and used a boulder from another route. So I'm like shit that wasn't helpful. So I try a fourth time, and I actually do worse than my prior attempts. So I tell myself I have one more try. I'm making built in excuses before my last try: "its been 2 hours bro, you havent climbed in 2 weeks, you are tired". I shut devil down, chalked up and stared at my enemy. This is it George, youre going home a loser. Pfft, SENT that shit like a postal worker! Peaces and Creases TBN OUT

Pain and Patience

How long can you do it? How much can a person endure? You try to do the right thing only to be slapped in the face repeatedly. Do you give up or keep beating your head against a stone wall? Maybe it's worth beating your head against a stone wall. Or is it? Where is the breaking point? This opening is completly irrellevant. This post is two fold. Pain and patience, perhaps two words that encompass the same concept. I believe they go hand and hand. Let's start with pain. There are two types of pain: physical pain and emtional pain. When I stub my toe (ouch) that really hurts. You get shot in the arm (ouch) that hurts as well, probably a little more. You fall down a flight of stairs and sustain a couple of injuries (ouch). Then there is the pain where feelings get involved (not a fan of this type of pain). Referring to emotional pain. We have all experienced emotional pain i.e. the loss of a loved one, a break up from a long term relationship, someone called you a nigger. That type of pain. Both hurt, but scraping your knee on the concrete and a parent telling you are worthless and will never contribute to society hurts a little different. Am I right? I could accidently touch a hot stove and burn the shit out of my hand... but your significant other telling you I slept with your sister burns just as painfully if not more. Let me get to the point I'm attempting to make, pain is pain regardless... it fucking hurts. The ultimate question is, does it leave a scar? Physically or emotionally? One is visible and the other is not but do they not hurt the same? Physical scars last forever but do emotional scars? Can emotional scars be healed? Secondly is patience. Some have it and some don't. Why is that? People are born with legs, feet, a head, and a torso. Why are they not born with patience? I realize this is a silly premise but stay with me for a moment. If we can be born with a brain why can we not be born with patience. Seems pretty simple to me. "Iv'e been waiting for three minutes for my latte!" Hmmmm, can't wait 4 minutes? That's an easy example. The patience I am refering to is a little more nuanced in the sense of dealing with a bunch of bullshit and not losing your shit. Like your wife treats you like an asshole and you suck it up. Your kids act a fool in the morning before school and you don't scream at them. That's patience. A kid on the softball team you are coaching can't field a ground ball and you don't yell at them like they murdered your first born (I've seen it happen). So now let me bring this all together; patience and pain or pain and patience are brother and sister. Patience sometimes invovles pain, and pain sometimes involves patience. Here is a good example that I literally just came up with: as a boxer you may have to get punched in the face over and over again but if you are patient they will tire themself out and you win the fight. Or if your significant other is impatient and you are patient, that can become very painful. Bottom line, patience is a choice. Pain is an outcome. Peaces and Creases TBN Out

Fa Real

Wow, this how far out of practice I am… Im writing in Microsoft 2010 on a laptop that should be considered a typewriter at this point. I would write directly onto my blog but what typewriters have internet access to all you smarty pants who were just thinking that. Don’t get me off topic. I really had something to say; at least enough to move me to use this ancient artifact (Ryan I need the laptop back that you were supposedly fixing!) to do what I like to refer to as writing. I believe this should work as my introduction… I can feel you salivating for what I am going to say next you greedy degenerates. Now that that is out of the way I will get started, assuming I remember what it was I was going to get started on in the first place. All joking aside this is a happy post (I have to keep all of the murderous, violent ones to myself for legal reasons, you can understand). Life is an interesting experiment if you will. I’m asking you to allow me to refer to life as an experiment. A scientific experiment: with a hypothesis, data, results, all that bullshit. If you were to look at my life in its entirety that little line graph we use when gaging such data would be by all intents and purposes unreadable; it would be all over the place. What I mean by that is that I have had my up’s and my down’s, mostly downward on the hypothetical graph I just described. Now I look at my station in life and I can’t help but be floored! I turned into a decent human being, not that I always wanted to be one because society is a bunch of homegrown bullshit fed to the masses. But low and behold here I am eating that bullshit, feeding on that bullshit, having daily shits that relieve me of that bullshit! But hey, I aint mad at me. We adapt or die. I chose to adapt. Let’s not get it twisted, I’m still George Harold Anderson the motherfuckin IV. Just a little less emphasis on the “motherfuckin”. I can still drink with the best of em and still carry a mean left hook but I can also go and watch my daughter play softball and/or gymnastics. Instead of trolling bars to collect teeth I now troll softball fields to collect high fives and fist bumps. I guess this written word is a reflection on my journey in life. At this time 12 years ago I was living behind an abandoned Circuit City in Tulsa Oklahoma wondering where my next meal was going to come from. Now I’m looking at a deck my friend and I just built, a shed I built, a gangster ass treehouse I built for my daughters, a trampoline, and a fire pit in the backyard that burns away all my prior indiscretions. I also put up a hammock which I never use. I put it up not to lay in but more the fact that I know I can lay in it any time I want to. That my friends is not happiness, but contentment. I’m writing this beautiful ode to the life we are so fortunate to have. I tried suicide twice…. Makes me that much more thankful to be living. Peaces and Creases

What is Normal Anyway?

I am going to remove myself from this post and watch myself type from a distance because I don't want to be affiliated with whatever comes from the mind of this mad man. So I'll just let him take it from here.

Thank you for the introduction kind sir. I'll wake you when I'm finished. But we both know I am never truly finished; there are not enough words in human language that could contain or begin to convey the things that run through my tiny brain. So this will just be another futile attempt to simply scratch the surface. Buckle in because non of this will make any sense.... or will it?

2020 has been an unprecedented year to say the least. It has been interesting. It is still kind of surreal to walk around and see people wearing masks everywhere you go. Its like something out of a Phillip K. Dick novel. Hand shakes have become weird, college applications and standards have changed, NBA basketball is being played in a bubble, substance abuse and domestic violence is on the rise, people are standing during the national anthem (or are they kneeling, I forget?), black martyrs, social unrest, economic discourse, Joe Exotic got arrested, the list goes on. Oh and its election year to boot. I just realized where I want to go with this rant. Rant is a harsh word, lets call it a collection of disjointed thoughts and ramblings of a man that is close to his whit's end. Nope, I can't even be concise enough to call this a rant.

My life is so upside down and sideways I don't know whether to drool incoherently clutching a bottle of whisky or go streaking while screaming Black Lives Matter. Neither of which are far from actually happening. I mean come on, something has to give. You can't expect people to be holed up in their homes with their KIDS AND SPOUSE all day everyday trying to decipher this godforsaken remote learning which alone would drive a person mad, listening to a president who says god knows what just burping up thoughts on tweeter, while all white people are trying to find out if they are racist or not, while eyeballing someone who's mask is slightly below their nose determining if they are actually 6 feet from you. It is madness! Don't get it twisted I love my wife and kids, but come on, not that much. I'm not trying to see them 24/7 365. If you're thinking to yourself that's a fucked up thing to say, fuck you kill yourself because you think the same but I'm saying it, so a thank you is in order. Your welcome. So the question becomes how do we maintain some semblance of sanity during these apocalyptic times? Well don't look at me, I don't have the answer, or do I...? Of course not, don't be ridiculous. I will say this though, during these very trying times we are getting an up close and personal look at our humanity that I think we would otherwise miss if not for the calamity we call the new norm. Isolation can remind us that we are social beings deep down despite all the shit we talk about him or her. It is human interaction that keeps us civil and not the other way around. So when I feel the walls starting to close in, I picture myself in a fighting hole staring down the sites of my M16 in bum fuck Egypt all alone and it helps me to put things back into perspective and realize that I wouldn't change this madness for one second of that lonesomeness. So embrace it people, it could be worse. Embrace it before we return to our mindless day to day that we refer to as the norm.

Stay Salty

Peaces and Creases

TBN Out

This Just Happened

It's a feeling like no other. Squeezing the trigger in the hopes that it hits it's mark. I don't mean a target, center mass, silhouette shooting. I mean when your target is another living human being. You look down your sights and actually see the inhale and exhale of another, who breaths just as you do. Your eyes begin to waiver, your palms begin to sweat, and for one brief moment you forget what you are there for. This is absolutely not the time to question your purpose, although it happens regardless. A terrible mental state to be in when in combat. Because the enemy may not be questioning any of the existential gobbidy gook that has hindered you from doing what you have spent the last 3 years training to do. Boom, like that you're dead, because YOU STOPPED TO THINK ABOUT IT!

War is not a play ground, and or a sand box where you show a girl your knickers. You play for keeps. When I came to that realization I cried like a fucking baby. No joke. Hmmmm, I might not go home on leave and fuck Julie like I been dreaming about since I got out of boot camp. I might actually leave here in a body bag and get that 21 gun salute. So I better get my head on straight, my eyes on the target, palms dry, and my trigger finger ready. Shoot to, guess what.... kill. End life. Otherwise it might be mine that is taken.

I don't know where I'm going or how I started on this morbid rant. I'm gonna guess it has something to do with the COVID. Mortality is not something we like to, or address very often. But I have, and it was eye opening and it scared the shit out of me. However, it did help me in a lot of ways. Death is not what actually scares me. It's not living that does. So I like to keep my head on a swivel and my trigger finger ready for whatever life may thro at me. Good or bad. Stay frosty

Peaces and Creases

TBN OUT

Going Fast, When You Know You Can

I love it! I know that there are no young kids that read this but however I would like to speak to them nonetheless. It's 10:45 at night and I pull up to a light next to this big dully truck with a couple of kids in the cab. We proceed to go thru the light, they do it quite aggressively. Mind you, I'm driving a Q5 Audi with a little juice. We get to the next light and I can feel these kids eye balls staring at me. Light turns green and I allow them to get there pubescent testosterone out and let them pull off the line in front of me. Either they got cocky or were drunk because they start to go in and out of my lane. No, no children. I wait for my them to bank to there left one more time so I can squeeze in my appropriate lane and give them a nice glance over, and make sure they see me. He stomps on the gas and lets his behemoth of a truck roar. I grin as I ease on the gas and gradually push the pedal to the floor. The turbo kicks in and my head snaps back slightly as the whir of the finely tuned engine jumps into action as I watch which was once two high school kids dully's headlights turn into small dots in my rearview. Thanks kids, the Audi does need to occasionally put in work to remind her she is an Audi, as I need a reminder I can still go fast.

Peaces and Creases

TBN Out

Fire It Up and Shut Down

I was told if I wrote this I would really regret it. Now that is motivation to write!

So I have this car right. It is very temperamental. Actually fuck it I am the car if I choose to stick with this metaphor. The owner of this car likes to hop in the driver seat, get nice and comfy. Check all the mirrors, adjust the seat to their liking, pick out their favorite CD or whatever Spotify iPhone Pandora bullshit. Stick the key in the ignition and fire it up! Mash on the gas pedal and make that motor roar! RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR! Now here is the kicker- the person who has jumped in the driver seat, gotten comfy, checked the mirrors, adjusted the seat, and picked their favorite song and fired up the engine.... is suddenly pissed at the engine for roaring?! The engine is started and roaring because the keys have been put in the ignition and the gas pedal mashed upon. But the driver never even attempts to put the vehicle in drive. Somehow it is the engine's fault for roaring. So the driver pulls the key from the ignition but inexplicably the engine is still running! How in the world could the engine still be running after the driver has pulled the key from the ignition?!

The driver is understandably pissed. They never actually had any intention of going anywhere. So once they let their foot off the pedal and removed the key it should shut off like any inanimate object. Hmmmmmm..... Maybe the machines have become aware. Maybe this is a cautionary tale of what could become if the machines were to become aware. So you drivers be careful when you jump behind the wheel and rev that engine. At some point you might not be able to shut it off and have to  endure a road trip you were not anticipating. Shit you might even shoot a rod if you're not careful.

I guess what I am trying to say is this: while you may be the driver, ultimately it is the motor/engine that gets you from point A to point B. So as a responsible vehicle owner you should treat your vehicle accordingly. Proper oil changes, CHECK YOUR BREAKS PERIODICALY, etc. Otherwise... who knows? It might decide one day to take you off of a cliff.

TBN OUT

Peaces and Creases

The Sky is Falling

I love the taste and smell of arugala. I love the taste of a cigarette as I inhale the smoke coming off the grill as a Porterhouse steak finds its way. I like lacing up my go fasters at high noon in the middle of summer to put in 5 miles. I enjoy being the one to cash out a bowl as well as the amazing fragrance it releases. I enjoy calling someone out on their bullshit and watching them squirm. I love the face my daughter makes right before she fires a softball at my brand new catchers mitt. Shit, I love the smell of my mitt and the sound it makes when she throws a strike. I love the glow of my laptop as I drown myself in something that fulfills me.

However, when I look out of the window, the sky seems to be getting a little lower. As if it might one day collapse on me as I'm grilling a nice steak and having a smoke. Each day I get up and step outside, the sky is a little lower. Lower and lower and lower. Almost to the point where I can no longer smell my catchers mitt, feel that strike, or cash that bowl. Basically I can't enjoy anything, because I am so consumed by the fact that the sky is no longer holding up it's end of the bargain. I foolishly believed that if I got up everyday, the sky would greet me and be at the same height it was the day prior. Turns out the sky is an asshole and has made an ass out of me.

Or has it? Let's say I just forget about where the sky is, and just continue to do the things I love and enjoy? I mean, I have no control over the sky. I can't make it stay where it is. No matter how long I stare at it, it will ultimately do it's thing. Perhaps fall.

So how I see it, is I have two options: I can A- Get up everyday and measure the amount the sky has fallen. Or B- Get up each day and continue to play catcher, cash out bowls, run with my dog, and keep the grill fired up. Hmmm.... that's a tough one.

Why won't the sky just fall already so I don't have to contemplate such an existential conundrum?!

Peaces and Creases

Turbonegro out

Golden Globes... An Abomidable Shit Show

I haven't written in a while but I was motivated to take action after watching the Golden Globe awards. Rickey Gervais, the host, came out and spoke truth to the possible recipients of said award. His advice fell on deaf ears. I HAVE NEVER, been so disgusted by the nonsense that was spewed by what the so called celebrities had to say. Ricky: Thank whatever God you pray to, leave your political views aside, and say thank you and get the fuck off the stage. Simple right? Nope. I was beside myself watching actor after actor get on stage and start spouting their irrelevant, nonsensical views on topics they know nothing about.

When did the Golden Globes become a platform for ACTORS to express their social/political views? Firstly, who the fuck are they to weigh in on anything that has to do with real life? They are paid to assume an identity that is not their own. So why on earth would anybody in their right mind listen to anything they have to say with the exception of eating popcorn and sipping a Coke? Stay in your lane you pompous arrogant assholes. I don't care how you feel about abortion, global military involvement, gay marriage etc. You are an actor! You are only relevant on TMZ and award shows. What are we even awarding you for in the first place? Your the best at not being a real human being, congratulations.

Secondly, as I was watching the show my irritation grew and grew and I forgot the fact that I am voluntarily watching. Hmm. Change the channel George, my brain told me. But like a car crash, its hard to look away. Guilty as charged. The Golden Globe awards is not and nor should it be a platform for over paid pretty people to vomit their thoughts and views to a global audience. I'd rather you say thank you and went on your way. It is sad that people make a living taking photos of jackasses/ celebrities. Where is the world headed...? Hell in a hand basket?

Just kidding, I don't believe in a Hell. However, Joaquin Phoenix, Brad Pitt, Renee Zelweger, Charlize Theron, shut the fuck up and stay in your lane. Our (I use the term OUR very loosely) attention span/ability to concentrate on anything longer than 140 characters has dwindled significantly. Thank you Donald.

But I digress. Or do I? To be honest, I don't even know what the word means. So before I lose you, remember this..... The moment you feel like Tom Cruise, or whoever else makes a coherent point on any issue or topic.... Politely laugh hysterically.

Masks

I thought I would tickle the keyboard again tonight before turning it in. It's rough living inside of your own head. The rents too high and the maintenance crew is virtually non existent. First let me explain by what I mean when I say I am living in my own head. Essentially it means to over think things, silly and trivial things. Things that really have no bearing on your life but you choose to dwell on them. It's like a buffet line that only serves anxiety and unnecessary self evaluation. Just large hotel pans overflowing with irrational thoughts and second guessing. I have to admit, I am the repeat offender that returns to the buffet line using the same plate (everyone knows you're supposed to get a new plate for each visit) hoping nobody notices. Well shit... where was I going with this? Oh yes, renting out space in one's own head and how to remedy it? I pose it as a question because what the fuck do I really know. I can only hope to attempt to break my lease and live rent free.

Ok, enough of this metaphorical nonsense, I'm confusing my own self. Basically what I am getting at is; I need to stop worrying about how people think, perceive, and interact with me. Because ultimately it is only me that is looking back in the mirror. As I like to say, we all wear masks but there isn't a mask thick enough to hide your own reflection. Or there shouldn't be at least. I have to remind myself that I am a man that lives within the margin. That small space adjacent to social norms and mass conformity. Now don't get me wrong, wearing a mask is a part of existing within the societal parameters that are placed on us. I believe its called the Social Contract that we all agreed upon way back when. It's fine, I get it; society can't just be pure anarchy. However, it is when the mask is no longer a mask, problems begin to take shape. It is when the mask no longer serves it’s function which  is to conceal the real you. In turn to abide by the Social Contract. The mask actually becomes an extension of yourself. It’s like putting on a Halloween mask to find out it’s glued to your face. I think that is where I have found myself recently. I've gotten so caught up in how other people see my various masks and have started to forget what's behind the mask.

Me, I'm the one behind the mask. So when all the smoke clears and I'm standing at the position of attention in front of the mirror I can't hide behind a mask. As cheezy as it sounds, I have to be true to myself and remember that the masks that I do wear do not define who I am and nor should they. I wish I could better articulate what I am trying to say but it's not that simple. Afterall it's my blog and I can spout all the nonsense I want and not care if anyone has any clue of what I'm talking about. I barely know what I'm talking about. Goodnight

TBN OUT

Peaces and Creases

Chappelle

Not a riveting response to my last post but it is my fault. I've been inexcusably absent, but I'm rectifying the situation, currently (obviously). BUT, Dave Chappelle took a nice long hiatus and came back like a boss. Dave has changed soooo much from when he started out. For the good, for the bad, it's for you to decide. Me personally, I fucking love the transformation. Watching the arc of his career is remarkable. Not sure why it took 10 years for him to find.... well what I consider the best comedy he has ever done. He finally took the kiddie gloves off and starting preaching a.k.a speaking mad unadulterated truth, unapologetically. I am proud of him, which sounds absurd because he's not my five year old child, nonetheless I feel like a proud father watching his son hit his first home run. Trust me, I fully understand he had to cut his teeth and do the whole Hollywood thing, placate/appease the masses. Now he appeases himself and says whatever the fuck he feels like, and frankly I'm jealous. Wait I mean envious. I love saying whatever the fuck I want, however I don't have the same clout as Dave. He's funny, but he is a lot much more. I want to say brilliant but I don't want the statement to be misconstrued as hyperbole. Actually he is brilliant and his talent should be recognized as such. I think his comedy reaches next level: not just funny, but intelligent, charismatic, and socially conscience. Its hard to make all of those things work together and still be successful.

But I digress, I'll stop dick riding. Just wish I had the platform to go as raw as he does. He earned it. In my top 5 of people to meet for sure. I got him in my scope.

TBN OUT

Peaces and Creases

More to come

Domestication, Irritation, and Placation?

Wheeeew, it's been a long time since I've spoken to you. I been busy. I got a lot on my plate as they say. Update: I got married, inherited two beautiful children and purchased a second home. My life has changed a little bit to say the least. Unfortunately I am not here to bask in my new found fortune. It's the opposite actually. Hmmmm, where do I begin? Lets start with fuck ya'll all of ya'll. If ya'll don't like me, blow me. As The Doctor Dre so eloquently put it. All day one line from that particular song kept running thru my head: Ya'll gonna fuck around and turn me back to the old me. I don't want that and neither does the rest of society. CANT I JUST DO ME?! I guess everyone thinks that since I've settled down I can't go back to the old me. News flash Walter Cronkite, old me didn't go anywhere, he's just been hibernating waiting for the chance to pounce. So here he is....

Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, nobodies cool. Let me tell you something. Wait better yet let me drop some truth bombs on you. You think since Mike Tyson doesn't box anymore he cant still throw a punch that will send you into next week? I dare you, I double dog dare you. All ya'll that have been living this domestic life, wanting this domestic life, growing up dreaming of this domestic life, don't make you me by any stretch of the imagination. We are not the same people, I promise you. Walk a mile in my shoes.... PLEASE you couldn't take two steps in my shoes. Look at me, look thru me, avoid me, don't matter. You gonna feel me one way or the other. I have always claimed to be a Man in the Margin and ain't shit changed but the time (daylight savings). I have sat back and held my tongue, attempting to let things play themselves out. But shit, a man (especially one in the margin) can only take so much before things start to come to a head. Hence the reason for this post...

The pen is mightier than the sword. Whatever. Me writing this blog is mightier than me going to jail. I'm just trying to look out for my wife and our children. Plain and simple. The rest is just smoke and mirrors. So when, let's just call them them/they, start to fuck with that symbiosis it becomes a problem that needs to be addressed, and this is the platform I choose to exercise. Your welcome. If you know me, or knew me in the past, well then, you know what I'm capable of......

But let's end this on a positive note, that's what I preach. HA, gothcha! I caught you sleepin. I don't preach shit, I only speak. The last fast few months have been scary, funny. fun. tumultuous, infuriating, exciting, mind boggling etc. And I wouldn't trade one minute of it. Bring it on Appearancers, but don't get it twisted. I see thru your mask. I'll leave you with this gem "My mask of sanity is beginning to slip".

TBN OUT

Peaces and Creases

P.S.- I'm not as crazy as this post sounds

P.S.S.- Or am I.......?

I "Love" Beer

I like beer. You know what I like even more? Free beer. I been getting free beer for a while now, and let me tell you, it is amazing. I get to drink when I want, where I want, how much I want. It is great, let me tell ya. However, sometimes I'm not in the mood for beer. Maybe I have a headache, or a stomach ache etc. When this happens I ask the beer to turn into, oh I don't know, lets say Pepto Bismal. So when I open my next free beer, to my shock it still tastes like beer. Granted, it's free, but I want Pepto. I should absolutely definitively unequivocally get what I want no matter what. Right, you feel me? Is that too much to ask? I mean you deliver the beer to me at no costs, so why can't you turn it into Pepto? THAT'S WHAT I WANT RIGHT NOW!

Oh ok, you can't turn beer into Pepto. So basically what are you good for then?

Beer vendor: Well ma'am there is not a lot of vendors that give out beer for free. I apologize, we can't turn the beer into Pepto.

Ok you can go...

Are You Here and Mental Illness

This is going to  be a tough one to write so I'll just dive right in. I just finished watching a movie entitled AreYou Here An off the radar movie starring Owen Wilson and Zach Galifianakis. In the film Wilson and Galifianakis play life long best friends. Wilson is the weatherman for a local news station and Galifianakis is for lack of a better term, a bum. He lives in a trailer and all he does is smoke weed all day and scribble in his note paid which he refers to as a book he is working on, when in reality it's just a collection of overly detailed and bazaar random thoughts that he believes will change society for the better. Nevertheless, he is a fun, quirky, jovial, likeable character. He is supported financially (one could argue enabled) by his friend (Owen Wilson) because he doesn't work, if you didn't already surmise that. So Wilson basically hangs out at the trailer home with him and smokes all day with his friend until he has to go in and report the weather. Well at face value Wilson seems like a really good friend looking out for his buddy. However, in the opening scene we see Wilson on a series of several dates, giving the same schpill over and over to each different woman. Some garbage about how is free, happy to be single, yada yada. He even likens being married with kids as another form of prostitution. I won't even attempt to explain his thought process behind that. But he actually believes what he is saying. Long story short Galafianakis's father dies and he inherits a large some of money but at the same time loses is proverbial shit. So with the money he has inherited he can now put the scribblings of his so called book into action and create this utopic society he has always dreamed of. But, his sister challenges their father's will stating that he is incapable of handling such a large sum of money due to mental incompetence. He is forced to see a shrink where he is diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder. The doctor attempts to prescribe him medication which he denies, stating something along the lines of he doesn't want to be a sheep like the rest of society walking in a zombie like state simply, working, eating, grabbing, consuming (it's a very poignant speech where he paints a very vivid picture of society, but I'll get back to that). At the hearing the judge awards the settlement to him on the statute the if he is not a harm to himself or anyone else he's can do whatever he wants with the money. "Even if he wants to spend the money on the world's largest hat", he says. So that very same evening they are out at a bar celebrating when he becomes delusional and believes the guy next to him is talking shit where he then attacks the man putting him in the hospital. After the incident he decides he will give the medication a try. He does so and does become what he described to the doctor initially basically a zombie, albeit a responsible one.  So Owen feels like he's lost his friend due to the extreme change in behavior and starts to spiral forcing him to look at himself in the mirror and see his true loneliness. Galafianakis's character even goes as far as to tell him he needs to get his shit together (scratching my head on that one). So eventually he has his moment of clarity so to speak and quits his job at the news station and everyone lives happily ever after.

Whew, that was a lot of words and I haven't even got to the meat and potatoes but now you have some context as to what inspired this particular piece spawned by this particular movie. Let me start by saying that the movie was very well done and if you haven't seen it, its a good watch. There are a lot layers to peel back in this movie and if you haven't guessed already what stood out the most to me was the mental illness aspect and the presumed stigma of anti-depressants and mood stabilizers. I use the term stigma, but I guess that is up for debate depending on how look at it and which side of the debate you fall on. Essentially Galafianakis's character is apprehensive to take the medication because he truly believes that he will lose all sense of self in a drug induced haze and conform to the rest of society. Which for all intents and purposes he does, he becomes a shell of his former self which really pisses his best friend off because he feels he has lost someone very dear to him. Or one could contend that he is just being selfish because ultimately he's just a lonely shallow dude. So it begs the question, is Galafianakas's apprehension to take medication founded? Sure he becomes a responsible contributing member of society, but at what cost?

I'm not going to sit here and pretend to know the answers to these questions bout the movie did make me take a look at myself. In 2004 I was diagnosed with PTSD and was prescribed Zoloft, a mood stabilizer. Later after I really started spiraling out of control going as far as hurting myself, I was then prescribed Lithium which thankfully stopped the skid. So the movie made me ask myself the question: how much has the medication actually changed me? How much of my true self have I actually been robbed of? I'd like to think hardly any but it's hard to self evaluate when it comes to mental issues. Shit, for all I know I could have completely changed and don't realize it. In the movie Galafianakas believes he is the same person he has always been (clearly not the case), but now with clarity. I started this blog back in 2013, I'm not even sure the reason. Recently someone asked me why I have a blog. I can answer that question today (ask me and I'll tell you) but at the time it just seemed like a fun idea. I would have never predicted I would keep up with the practice for this long. So I decided to go back and read some of my old stuff and try and see how, or if I have changed, and to look at my character arc so to speak. Well clearly my content has changed drastically. I started out writing strictly about sports. I went from to writing about sports to writing about war. Then my stuff became very dark and ominous when I was in a really bad place before the Lithium balanced me out. Then I started writing about shit that really amused me. Currently my writing is mainly a social commentary.

So clearly I have changed quite a bit as my blog is a testament to that. However, I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing. I don't feel like a zombie and hopefully my self assessment is accurate. I don't know, you tell me. So if I were to weigh in and give my two cents on whether individuals should take psych meds....... My answer is an unequivocal yes. Without them, I doubt I would be here today, real talk. Well that went on for forever, I hope it was worth the read. Stay frosty my friends.

TBN OUT

Peaces and Creases

Fuck Checkbooks

So I roll into Kroger to grab some beer and some chicken to throw on the grill and watch the Rockets game. In and out. Well that's what I thought. I grab my items and head to the self checkout where the line is like 15 deep. I get in line momentarily when I notice a regular checkout with a very short line. So I go to that line. Oops. I get in line and the cashier is like 84 years old so she's not the swiftest cashier. But I'm like fuck, you can't leave a line to go to another line and then return back to the original. You look dumb. So of course I stay in my current line. And this happens: the lady in front of me is just buying balloons and whips out her checkbook! Who the fuck still carries a checkbook?! Is it 1986? To add insult to injury she has a rock on her finger the size of my left testicle (that's the bigger one). Of course she can't find her ID card so that takes more time as she digs through her beach bag of a purse while I contemplate suicide or murder or both. So long story short-I wasted 15 minutes of my life...... Now that I have written this, that experience wasn't (squeaky voice) that bad. Certainly not bad enough to commit homicide. Or was it...?

TBN OUT
Peaces and Creases

P.S.- Those of you that carry a checkbook (yea you baby boomer) beware

Live for Something or Die for Nothing

As I load a bowl I contemplate the word conviction. There are two definitions for this word but as I spark this bowl only one definition truly holds the true meaning of the word. Conviction- a firmly held belief or opinion. This is probably mind blowing to most.... having conviction in what you say/speak. And it is sad, to say the least. If you have discussed/debated/argued with me I tend  to come off as angry. Or I just want to be "right" at all cost. Negative. I don't mean to come off that way but hey, it is what it is. I speak with conviction, not with anger. I am and will always do as such. I find myself getting in discussions with people who lack conviction therefore they proceed to back peddle until I put them in a corner. Then I somehow become the bad guy because I questioned what they have no conviction in. LISTEN, if you don't have any conviction in what you are saying, do me a favor and don't speak. You just walked into a knife fight carrying a spoon! You will not CONVINCE me of anything without actual conviction. Simple as that. If you believe the Holocaust was a farce, or Jesus walked on water, that's fine just be prepared to back up your statements with conviction and facts. Otherwise we are both wasting our breath. I'm high. But that's neither here nor there. Pay attention. I typically get labeled as the "angry black man". You want to know why? Because I speak my mind and do so with conviction. I firmly hold a certain belief and/or opinion. I think I read that somewhere (scratching head emoji). And I stand by it. So I'm not trying to be right. I'm trying to express my conviction and find out if you have any. If you don't, inevitably your lack of conviction will look you straight in the face. At this point I'm usually cursed at, told to leave, or swung at (Never turns out well for either party. I'm in jail, you're in the hospital... yada yada). But I digress. What the fuck do I know anyway?

TBN OUT

Peaces and Creases

P.S.- There would be no revolutions without conviction.

WORLDS COLLIDE! Children's Softball- Part One

Being the other guy is a roller coaster/waterslide/ skydive filled with little land mines that may pop up at any moment (bouncing betty). However, as the other guy, you don't even know that you are walking into a mine field. Once you step on one, you simply have to take the shrapnel from a random explosion you had nothing to do with and quietly adhere to your own wounds. Because the mine field that you inadvertently walked into is a world that you are not only unfamiliar with...., you can't even have a reaction to said mine that just shattered your shin bone. You have to silently endure.

So the world I referred to just above is a network of people that know, perceive to know about everyone in that network. There are certain circles within the network which rival those of High School but mind you they are grown adults. Don't let age fool you. We as Americans can easily revert back to High School in the blink of an eye. The immaturity, thoughtlessness of youth, athletic acumen, short sightedness caused by hormones, and so on and so forth. But High School ended 20 years ago, well for me at least.

So now I am the other guy unexpectedly dropped into a war zone called softball where my training in the Marine Corps means absolutely nothing (underhand pitches and hand grenades). I have no idea how to navigate, my compass is useless. I have only my wits and charm to stay alive in this world they call softball. I have seen softball and even played it, BUT when it comes to kid's softball there is a whole nother underbelly that the unknowing casual spectator that does not see. I was that spectator until I unwittingly took the blue pill.

To be Continued...

Peaces and Creases
TBN

That Guy: The Guy that really just doesn't get it and refuses to

I'm pissed. I can't take this shit anymore. She's always up in my ass for no fucking reason. You know what, fuck it! I'll show her. Hee grabs his keys and enters the garage where his 1998 Camaro is sitting which has been neglected because she never gets taken out, as the registration has been out for some time now. Hee opens the driver side door with authority, waking her up from a long slumber. Hee hops in the driver seat and fires up the engine, even revs it a couple of times. Camaro is excited to finally go out for a spin. However, the garage door never opens. That's right bitch, this will change your ways. Hee inhales deeply as the fumes from the exhaust begin to feel the small garage. Suddenly the garage door begins to open....

Oh shit what time is it? How long was I passed out for? As the garage door rises he sees her car pulling into the drive way....

What the fuck is this motherfucker doing in the garage with his stupid ass car running. Rreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaly! He thinks he's going to kill himself in my garage, when my kids will be home shortly! OH NO SIR! She jumps out of her vehicle and runs up to the driver side window. Hee turns and looks at her somewhat half asleep. POW! His head snaps back. BOOM! His head bounces off of the steering wheel. Hee is quickly snapped back to reality and she is in his face like a Velociraptor waiting for a raw steak. "You fucking think you are going to kill yourself in my HOUSE when my kids are about to be home!" She pulls him from the vehicle. "You kill yourself somewhere else you selfish prick." Hee lies on the garage pavement in tears somewhat ashamed for his actions because hee really never fully intended on killing himself. She storms into the house to find empty bottles of liquor strewn about. Not exactly anything new, but this little stunt takes the cake. She grabs her phone as she hears him wailing in the background, "Why won't you love me!?" The phone begins to ring....

"Hello? Oh hey what's up you sound a little frantic. Wait he tried to do WHAT?! Ah fuck. I'm on my way." He immediately jumps up and grabs his keys and rushes out of the door without any explanation to the friends who are sitting in his living room.....

He pulls up to the house (to simplify things, let's just call him Jorge). Jorge pulls up to the house and sees him sitting on the tailgate of his truck. Jorge parks and gets out of his vehicle, Fuck me what do I say to him? He walks up to the driveway:
           Jorge: What's going on, talk to me? You are really scaring some people.
           Him: Ah shit she called you didn't she?
           Jorge: Yea, and I think for good reason.
Jorge sits down on the tailgate with him.
           Jorge: You care to explain the reason why I am here?
Hee is somewhat calm and almost jovial for someone who just tried to commit suicide.
           Him: Well Jorge, I don't think you would get it. You just fuck hookers and deal drugs.
That's an outrageous statement, but just go with it.
           Jorge: Well why don't you try me?
           Him: Man, I just can't get ahead (says entitled white male). I mean I'm a veteran, shouldn't
                     that count for something? You know what I mean?
Actually no, I was in the Marine Corps and you were in the Navy. 2 completely different experiences.
           Jorge: I know exactly what you mean. But how did we get where we are right now? Is it the
                      the job that is stressing you out or what?
           Him: Na, I lost that job after a week. And she got pissed! People have panic attacks, get over it
                    geez.
           Jorge: So you're not working right now?
           Him: Na, it's been a little over a month and she's totally up my ass. I mean she did pay for me                       to come out here from Georgia and supports me financially, but WHAT THE FUCK                           MAN! I am a man but she treats me like a child.
          Jorge: So let me get this straight. She paid for you to move here, supports you financially, and                        provides a roof over your head. I'm confused as to why you would want to commit
                     suicide.
          Him: You just don't get it J. I mean, she drinks all the time too. Sometimes she even smokes
                    pot.
          Jorge: Umm ok, but you do those things too. However, she has a full time job which pays your                      bills. She is also raising two children. So I don't think your focus should be on her. You                        should take a look in the mirror and ask yourself if you have actually grown up. For fuck                      sake 2 months ago you were living with your mother.
          Him: Like I said Jorge, YOU DON'T GET IT! Anyway, I'm gonna grab some 99 Bananas from                    the liquor store, you want anything? You would have to give me money for it of course.                      That bitch only put a quarter tank of gas in my truck, so I'm strapped for cash.
Jorge looks at him in disbelief.
          Jorge: How do you even have money to buy booze?
          Him: Haha, I pawned some of her shit.
          Jorge: Na, I'm good man. I need to be getting back anyways.
          Him: Suit yourself.... Pussy
Hee peels off in his truck as Jorge stands shaking his head. The door inside of the garage opens...
          Her: Is he gone?
Jorge turns and looks at her...
          Jorge: Yea, but we don't have long until he gets back.

The End

Disclaimer: This is a complete work of fiction and none the characters in this fictitious story resemble anybody that I know or have ever met. If anything seems familiar to anyone reading this it is by sheer coincidence.

Peaces and Creases
TBN