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I took the easy way out. My eleventh grade English teacher told us to live by carpe diem. Bukowski told me to roll the dice. I went along telling all the other lost souls I ran into the same thing. They found themselves and so did I except, I wasn’t able to live with mine. No matter who I am or how badly I try to show my true self, the Army will always come first.
Now don’t get me wrong, the Army has done a lot of good for me. I have been able to learn so much, meet many great people (and many that can burn in hell for all I care) and got to do a decent amount of travelling but enough is enough.
I don’t want security. I don’t want to play it safe anymore. All my risks in the past have been calculated, now it is time for me to get my shit together and be ready for 2012. Why 2012? Well, it is the year I break away from the Army. I will return from a tour in Afghanistan and finally dive head first into life. There will be no safety net, no parents to pull me up. Just myself and the few friends I have had along the way. Will I publish a novel? Graduate college? Hell, be able to pay for my apartment? I have no fucking clue and that excites me the most.
I don’t care what happens. Become a thirty year old bum, a bestselling novelist, the biggest manwhore on the Pitt campus, it doesn’t matter because I will be putting 100% of MYSELF into it all. If the military version of myself is outrageous well then what is to come will be a riot.
What is written above is a piece of shit. Seriously, that there is me trying to force my feelings out on paper. A list will suffice.
Goals: 2010-2012
-Submit and publish Soldier’s Sideline.
-Complete Whore of Alexandria and most of Heaven Ain’t Close.
-Learn to play guitar (and some damn good acoustic versions of songs).
-Learn to play piano (thanks to Ben Folds).
-Become a student of the art of the pickup.
NOTE: As I write this, my nephew has been passed off at me and my sister’s boyfriend thing’s son is harassing me to do “magic” tricks and show me his. He is in the fifth grade and annoys the hell out of me.
-Pay off all my debts, to include my car and possibly pick up a new Mini Cooper.
-Get accepted into Pitt’s writing program.
-Find a nice three to four bedroom apartment in Pittsburgh. Need room to party, be creative and get Clinten’s music career to pop off.
-Furnish the aforementioned apartment with some great shit and a fully stocked bar.
-Shop my first novel and see where it goes from there.
I have known these things for quite some time but it just took me over an hour to list all these goals. Kids played a part. My parents kept disrupting me. A few of the females that I have been talking to have been knocking at my walls and I find myself having to keep getting up to make myself another drink. Life gets in the way of these goals and I fear that they will never happen. I will be just like everyone else; trying to escape this town only to find myself living in my parent’s home, working some dead end job and telling everyone I am just waiting to get my life back on track and get back to school. I fear that the fact that nowhere in this dribble does it mention anything about a relationship, a steady girlfriend, marriage. No I only want to study pickup, write, drink and experience all those freshmen girls as a 26 year old freshmen myself. Yet, the thing I fear the most is waking up one morning in the reality I have been fleeing for years.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
A Terrible Try At Poetry, and a Fuck It Attitude To Go With It
I’m not holding on to anything.
I am grabbing as many straws as I can and throwing them into my fire. I am running out of straws though.
They come from close by but I never remember where I got them from.
They all look the same so there is no reason to remember them.
I let them give me warmth then through more straw onto the dying flame.
Sometimes I use the embers to catch fire to the other, but they eventually both burn out.
Then I am left alone, in the darkness, in the cold.
Until I finally move on, hoping that the next fire I build will last longer, but it doesn’t.
The fires die and I eventually find some shelter in a tavern.
There are no women here, no one knows me and anyone that does, does not know I am here.
The bartender only serves whiskey.
We all drink it slowly, the rest of the cold, dead patrons and I, our glasses never empty.
We don’t talk just grunts and the occasional welcome to the newest member.
I stay for awhile until the whiskey does nothing for me, doesn’t even numb me.
I throw on my thin wool jacket and step outside into the harsh weather.
I find a clearing, sit down and start collecting my straws.
I am grabbing as many straws as I can and throwing them into my fire. I am running out of straws though.
They come from close by but I never remember where I got them from.
They all look the same so there is no reason to remember them.
I let them give me warmth then through more straw onto the dying flame.
Sometimes I use the embers to catch fire to the other, but they eventually both burn out.
Then I am left alone, in the darkness, in the cold.
Until I finally move on, hoping that the next fire I build will last longer, but it doesn’t.
The fires die and I eventually find some shelter in a tavern.
There are no women here, no one knows me and anyone that does, does not know I am here.
The bartender only serves whiskey.
We all drink it slowly, the rest of the cold, dead patrons and I, our glasses never empty.
We don’t talk just grunts and the occasional welcome to the newest member.
I stay for awhile until the whiskey does nothing for me, doesn’t even numb me.
I throw on my thin wool jacket and step outside into the harsh weather.
I find a clearing, sit down and start collecting my straws.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
The Asshole
The Asshole. I branded myself this years ago and no one knew why. I was such a sweet kid back then. Filled with hopes and dreams, I grabbed life by the horns and got whatever I could out of it. If only I had known that all I was taking were the hopes and dreams of others, trying to mend my broken heart and shattered soul.
I always thought that the problem was that I couldn’t forget my love but the reality of it all was that all I remembered was how to love. I chased unsuccessfully for years the mirage in my mind; her and I with our two kids, the dog and the white picket fence. To ensure I never lost it, I continued to fuck whoever would have me. At first they were just women looking for only the physical but as that well dried up, I had to work a little harder, be a little sweeter.
Another year of breaking hearts finally came to a close when I found a woman that I could truly love. We connected on every level and it was bliss. For once I was happy. Then somewhere down the line we fell into a routine and I fell into the only thing I knew, being an asshole.
We were weeks from getting married when I told her I didn’t want to anymore. Marriage scared me, made me think it was the end of my days and I was only twenty two at the time. I thought I had a lot more life ahead of me. So I broke it off, broke her heart, broke her soul. I was the Asshole again.
It was back to fucking women over and over again. They were like all the easy ones I started with so I didn’t have to worry about breaking hearts and that made it a little easier on my conscience. Then my love returned. We talked about good days, but before I could ask her about our future my only means of communication died on me and I was left with months of silence, months of warming my bed with another woman or another drink.
Finally I arrived in Louisiana and was trying to get my life back on track, but decided it wasn’t the right time. Using my usual self-loathing and asshole nature I was able land what I needed but found that the bottle was so much easier than dealing with stupid women. I had no patience for them and decided I was better off helping those around me either fuck their way to the end of days or find their true love since I was qualified for both.
Winter came though and alcohol was not enough for me to stay warm and I sought shelter elsewhere. Meeting women with my charming self I was irresistible, and they ate it up. I eventually showed them that I was the Asshole I told them I was, the one they thought they could change. I never let them in, never gave them a chance.
So now here I sit. I have a few women that I care about back home, and I am not sure why. Yet, I also have a few women around that see me as the Prince Charming, they haven’t found out yet but they will soon enough, once I get what I need. I don’t want to hurt the ones I care about, they are special to me and I want them to know that, but I know we will find ourselves in one big stinking mess soon enough and that sucks. At first, it was this, knowing how everything was going to end, that made me realize that I am an Asshole, but then I looked a little more closely at myself. Yeah, I’m a dick for letting these women who care for me and that I care for get hurt, I stand behind that, but it is not what makes me an Asshole. No, I am an Asshole because I know all this, have the power to change, yet her I sit, drinking my beer and letting it all play out.
I always thought that the problem was that I couldn’t forget my love but the reality of it all was that all I remembered was how to love. I chased unsuccessfully for years the mirage in my mind; her and I with our two kids, the dog and the white picket fence. To ensure I never lost it, I continued to fuck whoever would have me. At first they were just women looking for only the physical but as that well dried up, I had to work a little harder, be a little sweeter.
Another year of breaking hearts finally came to a close when I found a woman that I could truly love. We connected on every level and it was bliss. For once I was happy. Then somewhere down the line we fell into a routine and I fell into the only thing I knew, being an asshole.
We were weeks from getting married when I told her I didn’t want to anymore. Marriage scared me, made me think it was the end of my days and I was only twenty two at the time. I thought I had a lot more life ahead of me. So I broke it off, broke her heart, broke her soul. I was the Asshole again.
It was back to fucking women over and over again. They were like all the easy ones I started with so I didn’t have to worry about breaking hearts and that made it a little easier on my conscience. Then my love returned. We talked about good days, but before I could ask her about our future my only means of communication died on me and I was left with months of silence, months of warming my bed with another woman or another drink.
Finally I arrived in Louisiana and was trying to get my life back on track, but decided it wasn’t the right time. Using my usual self-loathing and asshole nature I was able land what I needed but found that the bottle was so much easier than dealing with stupid women. I had no patience for them and decided I was better off helping those around me either fuck their way to the end of days or find their true love since I was qualified for both.
Winter came though and alcohol was not enough for me to stay warm and I sought shelter elsewhere. Meeting women with my charming self I was irresistible, and they ate it up. I eventually showed them that I was the Asshole I told them I was, the one they thought they could change. I never let them in, never gave them a chance.
So now here I sit. I have a few women that I care about back home, and I am not sure why. Yet, I also have a few women around that see me as the Prince Charming, they haven’t found out yet but they will soon enough, once I get what I need. I don’t want to hurt the ones I care about, they are special to me and I want them to know that, but I know we will find ourselves in one big stinking mess soon enough and that sucks. At first, it was this, knowing how everything was going to end, that made me realize that I am an Asshole, but then I looked a little more closely at myself. Yeah, I’m a dick for letting these women who care for me and that I care for get hurt, I stand behind that, but it is not what makes me an Asshole. No, I am an Asshole because I know all this, have the power to change, yet her I sit, drinking my beer and letting it all play out.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Catcher in the Swamp
Once you have come to terms with who you are and how your life will turn out, it is pretty easy to follow it without issue. What I have learned though is that even though you may not care for the woman that you kick out of your bed in the morning, you can still care for other people. Sadly it is not for any woman, but for your fellow man that you find is at the crossroads you once were at. What makes you care for them is not that fact that soon you will have a competent wingman, but that you don’t want them to follow you down the path that you are travelling.
You swallowed your chance years ago and have been chasing it with beer and whiskey ever since. You won’t let your fellow man fall into the same pit of despair as yourself, so you do everything you can to keep them on the right track. The only way you know how to do this though is to make yourself a bigger asshole and dig your hole a little deeper. There is no getting out of it, so you make it your home. Friends may come and visit, but you never let them stay.
The job is tiring, trying to keep everyone else on the straight and narrow. Your friends think that they can live both lifestyles, being a self-indulgent asshole and boyfriend material but you know that it never works out. They may finally come to their senses and live the honorable life that you deep down inside you regret you are not living, but if they don’t you just sigh and help each other find someone to keep you company for that cold evening.
That isn’t the toughest part though; it is when you come across the particular breed of woman who will either ditch your hopeless romantic friend for your bad-boy antics or try to make your friend jealous by flirting with you. That is the definition of being stuck between a rock and a hard place because while you try to do your best and look out for your buddy, you just want to fuck another chick. I know, I know bros before hoes but pussy is such an easy trap to fall in to.
So listen up guys, you have to choose a side. Either you spend the rest of your life looking for love or you go grab yourself a shovel and come join me. I will do everything that I can to keep you from going down the path of the latter but we all have free will, and you have to make some choices. As for you ladies, well, it is nice to meet you. If you aren’t playing some game I would love to get to know you on a more horizontal level.
You swallowed your chance years ago and have been chasing it with beer and whiskey ever since. You won’t let your fellow man fall into the same pit of despair as yourself, so you do everything you can to keep them on the right track. The only way you know how to do this though is to make yourself a bigger asshole and dig your hole a little deeper. There is no getting out of it, so you make it your home. Friends may come and visit, but you never let them stay.
The job is tiring, trying to keep everyone else on the straight and narrow. Your friends think that they can live both lifestyles, being a self-indulgent asshole and boyfriend material but you know that it never works out. They may finally come to their senses and live the honorable life that you deep down inside you regret you are not living, but if they don’t you just sigh and help each other find someone to keep you company for that cold evening.
That isn’t the toughest part though; it is when you come across the particular breed of woman who will either ditch your hopeless romantic friend for your bad-boy antics or try to make your friend jealous by flirting with you. That is the definition of being stuck between a rock and a hard place because while you try to do your best and look out for your buddy, you just want to fuck another chick. I know, I know bros before hoes but pussy is such an easy trap to fall in to.
So listen up guys, you have to choose a side. Either you spend the rest of your life looking for love or you go grab yourself a shovel and come join me. I will do everything that I can to keep you from going down the path of the latter but we all have free will, and you have to make some choices. As for you ladies, well, it is nice to meet you. If you aren’t playing some game I would love to get to know you on a more horizontal level.
Monday, September 7, 2009
The Infantryman's Creed
I am the Infantry.
I am my country's strength in war,
her deterrent in peace.
I am the heart of the fight-
wherever, whenever.
I carry America's faith and honor
against her enemies.
I am the Queen of Battle.
I am what my country expects me to be-
the best trained soldier in the world.
In the race for victory,
I am swift, determined, and courageous,
armed with a fierce will to win.
Never will I fail my country's trust.
Always I fight on-
through the foe,
to the objective,
to triumph over all.
If necessary, I fight to my death.
By my steadfast courage,
I have won 200 years of freedom.
I yield not-
to weakness,
to hunger,
to cowardice,
to fatigue,
to superior odds,
for I am mentally tough,physically strong,
and morally straight.
I forsake not-
my country,
my mission,
my comrades,
my sacred duty.
I am relentless.
I am always there,
now and forever.
I AM THE INFANTRY!
FOLLOW ME!
I am my country's strength in war,
her deterrent in peace.
I am the heart of the fight-
wherever, whenever.
I carry America's faith and honor
against her enemies.
I am the Queen of Battle.
I am what my country expects me to be-
the best trained soldier in the world.
In the race for victory,
I am swift, determined, and courageous,
armed with a fierce will to win.
Never will I fail my country's trust.
Always I fight on-
through the foe,
to the objective,
to triumph over all.
If necessary, I fight to my death.
By my steadfast courage,
I have won 200 years of freedom.
I yield not-
to weakness,
to hunger,
to cowardice,
to fatigue,
to superior odds,
for I am mentally tough,physically strong,
and morally straight.
I forsake not-
my country,
my mission,
my comrades,
my sacred duty.
I am relentless.
I am always there,
now and forever.
I AM THE INFANTRY!
FOLLOW ME!
Monday, June 15, 2009
Behind Blue Eyes
It’s pretty evident that I am an asshole. I have a tendency to screw over women. Women that love me, care for me and want nothing else but to be with me. It’s not that I have never loved them, it’s just that it is hard for me to figure out where I belong.
I find myself getting caught up in the moment with dreams of a better life, an honorable life, but I'm not there. I keep telling myself that I am on my way, so close to being a writer, a soldier, yet here I sit, beer in my hand, and some music on my iTunes. All alone in this empty house, this empty town.
I know I want to be happy. Spend my days with the woman I love. Wake up in her arms with nothing to do that day but write and love her. Maybe even go out for some ice cream and head down to the bar for some karaoke, but right now that cannot be.
I still have two years left in the Army and while many would agree that a marriage can work in the military, I don’t want to run the risk of hating the love of my life because of some fuck up or worse, one of my fuck ups. I also have soldiers to care for and while I may not know them yet, I still care for them deeply. They are my responsibility, representing my worth as a leader and I have to put them before all else, even my life.
To most that would sound like a stretch but I am not sitting behind a desk anymore. My job doesn’t revolve around calling up the local news and arranging interviews. It is about closing with the enemy to kill him. The shit is real and I need to take this job a lot seriously than I have before. My life depends on it. Their lives depend on it.
It is a lot of pressure for one man and I doubt that I am ready, but I have to be. No matter what, life moves forward and it doesn’t care if you are ready or not, you just have to do your best with what you got.
I understand that I probably will never get another chance at love, but I have hope that when everything is done and the dust settles, someone up above will look down at me and say, “Alright, this is your last shot. Don’t screw it up.”
I find myself getting caught up in the moment with dreams of a better life, an honorable life, but I'm not there. I keep telling myself that I am on my way, so close to being a writer, a soldier, yet here I sit, beer in my hand, and some music on my iTunes. All alone in this empty house, this empty town.
I know I want to be happy. Spend my days with the woman I love. Wake up in her arms with nothing to do that day but write and love her. Maybe even go out for some ice cream and head down to the bar for some karaoke, but right now that cannot be.
I still have two years left in the Army and while many would agree that a marriage can work in the military, I don’t want to run the risk of hating the love of my life because of some fuck up or worse, one of my fuck ups. I also have soldiers to care for and while I may not know them yet, I still care for them deeply. They are my responsibility, representing my worth as a leader and I have to put them before all else, even my life.
To most that would sound like a stretch but I am not sitting behind a desk anymore. My job doesn’t revolve around calling up the local news and arranging interviews. It is about closing with the enemy to kill him. The shit is real and I need to take this job a lot seriously than I have before. My life depends on it. Their lives depend on it.
It is a lot of pressure for one man and I doubt that I am ready, but I have to be. No matter what, life moves forward and it doesn’t care if you are ready or not, you just have to do your best with what you got.
I understand that I probably will never get another chance at love, but I have hope that when everything is done and the dust settles, someone up above will look down at me and say, “Alright, this is your last shot. Don’t screw it up.”
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
It Doesn't Matter What You Do
When all you have is your past to remember, it is hard to comprehend the idea of other people's lives moving forward. You sit down at your computer and let a slide show of your closest friends play across the screen, drink from your tall glass of whiskey and get excited about going home and getting back on track with where you left off the last time you were home.
So long ago.
Then as the slide show finishes and you kill the rest of the whiskey, you decide to catch up with a good friend from back home. Sure, you don't have a lot of friends but absence creates them as time goes on. Most of them just want to have an excuse to be crazy and have a wild time. Others are looking to recapture that same past you yearn for and yet, every one misses it all.
The crazy moments are constant, the drinks never seem to end and the pussy is always wet, and there you sit. You're not hungover because you stay drunk during your entire visit, you just feel like shit though. Sitting there with another tall whiskey you try to figure out how you got here, a tourist in your hometown. How did a life that was planned so well do a complete one-eighty and fuck you in the ass?
Before you knew you were leaving this town, you knew how the next five years would be. Then your stupid ass wanted to change it up, live life, see the world and be apart of something big. And that is all you are left with.
Now, whenever someone mentions your high school sweetheart you don't say "Damn, I should see how she is doing," instead you wonder what she has been up to and let her memory fade to the back of your mind. It's the same thing with any other woman you loved after her. They are all a memory, either a good one, a bad one, a kinky one it doesn't matter what kind of memory it is, they all leave you feeling the same way, lonesome.
You remember the ones you were sure would have worked out for the best, the ones that you thought would still be there when you finally returned home to settle down. Instead, they have faded away. Moved on for better things you are sure and you feel good knowing that they are happy because you know that you would have been an asshole. Sure there are still a few good women out there that would love to spend the rest of their lives with you, but you don't want them because you don't want to add another heartbreak to the trophy case.
So you finish another drink, decide that it is time to lay down and pray for three things; a woman to pass the time with, that you are drunk when you awake and that your days are almost over.
So long ago.
Then as the slide show finishes and you kill the rest of the whiskey, you decide to catch up with a good friend from back home. Sure, you don't have a lot of friends but absence creates them as time goes on. Most of them just want to have an excuse to be crazy and have a wild time. Others are looking to recapture that same past you yearn for and yet, every one misses it all.
The crazy moments are constant, the drinks never seem to end and the pussy is always wet, and there you sit. You're not hungover because you stay drunk during your entire visit, you just feel like shit though. Sitting there with another tall whiskey you try to figure out how you got here, a tourist in your hometown. How did a life that was planned so well do a complete one-eighty and fuck you in the ass?
Before you knew you were leaving this town, you knew how the next five years would be. Then your stupid ass wanted to change it up, live life, see the world and be apart of something big. And that is all you are left with.
Now, whenever someone mentions your high school sweetheart you don't say "Damn, I should see how she is doing," instead you wonder what she has been up to and let her memory fade to the back of your mind. It's the same thing with any other woman you loved after her. They are all a memory, either a good one, a bad one, a kinky one it doesn't matter what kind of memory it is, they all leave you feeling the same way, lonesome.
You remember the ones you were sure would have worked out for the best, the ones that you thought would still be there when you finally returned home to settle down. Instead, they have faded away. Moved on for better things you are sure and you feel good knowing that they are happy because you know that you would have been an asshole. Sure there are still a few good women out there that would love to spend the rest of their lives with you, but you don't want them because you don't want to add another heartbreak to the trophy case.
So you finish another drink, decide that it is time to lay down and pray for three things; a woman to pass the time with, that you are drunk when you awake and that your days are almost over.
Friday, April 10, 2009
The Life Of A Time Capsule
In every free world sits a man. He sits and reads, sometimes he finds himself in the middle of a crowd, knowing not a single soul in the group yet feels connected to them more than his mother.
Some believe he drinks because they drink. Others believe that drinking is the only thing he has going for him. Sadly though, they are what keeps him going.
He used to know these faces. What would make them laugh, their beliefs about God and politics. But now, he just recognizes the faces as an object of the past.
He drinks because he doesn't want the latest and greatest version of his memories. He wants that childhood sweetness, that innocence. Instead he gets their reality. The one they won't take responsibility for. So he accepts their punishments and hates himself.
Five years ago, he didn't give two shits about this life. Now older, he can't help but feel a sadness. Then to feel their sadness as well, well, it gets to be to much.
So why does he drink? Because no one else will. Call him Jesus Christ, but he will take away any responsibility you think you might have. He has been doing it for years. It is who he has become. To ask him if he is sure is an insult.
Some believe he drinks because they drink. Others believe that drinking is the only thing he has going for him. Sadly though, they are what keeps him going.
He used to know these faces. What would make them laugh, their beliefs about God and politics. But now, he just recognizes the faces as an object of the past.
He drinks because he doesn't want the latest and greatest version of his memories. He wants that childhood sweetness, that innocence. Instead he gets their reality. The one they won't take responsibility for. So he accepts their punishments and hates himself.
Five years ago, he didn't give two shits about this life. Now older, he can't help but feel a sadness. Then to feel their sadness as well, well, it gets to be to much.
So why does he drink? Because no one else will. Call him Jesus Christ, but he will take away any responsibility you think you might have. He has been doing it for years. It is who he has become. To ask him if he is sure is an insult.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
A Sobering Lesson On Why You Should Drink
It was this past Friday and I was at the bar on post for a farewell to one of our units that is leaving for Korea. Usually people of my rank (lower enlisted) and social status (WTF Weird Guy) are not at these functions, but since I was needed there for photos, it was okay with everyone.
I put on a nice suit, pocket square included, and rode down there with my soldier, Cook to take photos then drink. There was to be a good group of people there and sure to be a good time. We waited around for our colonel and general who was visiting. When they finally arrived we snapped photos for about twenty minutes and went to the bar to get a drink we both were dying for.
We set ourselves up near the pool table and bought each other beer after beer, people stopping by to tell us both how well dressed we were. I don't want to brag but she only looked as good as she did because she was next to me. I was that damn good looking.
Anyways, after about three beers or so, we had to go take more photos. We broke up the monotony with cigarettes and a shot here and there from one of the NCOs in my unit. Every now and then I would wander off to shoot the shit with some guys I know, trying to make the night interesting. When I went up to the bar, the one NCO was there with all the Miller Light Girls and we did shots of tequila out of their tits. Then, the two oddest things happened. My commander fucked me with her eyes and a voiced told me "to get my skinny ass over here." At first I was confused and thought the commander told me to come over but I realized the voice came from behind me.
It was Laurie, my favorite bartender who I had not seen in almost six months. I was going to by a beer but some major bought me one instead. I talked to Laurie for a little bit, found out she was pregnant and things were going pretty well with work despite working two horrible jobs, the bar and a cell phone company.
I realized I was ignoring Cook, so I told her I would see her around and we would catch up some more. I didn't see her for the rest of the night. When I got back to Cook she was finishing her beer and said she her husband would be picking her up in a few minutes. So we chatted a few more minutes then she left. Then, us boys got together and shit got fun.
Outside I continued to drink. The sergeant I know devised a plan for us and my OIC to hook up with the Miller Light Girls. Cool but then ten minutes later he is in the parking lot with all three of them fooling around. Fuck it. So I continue to drink.
When sergeant come back my OIC and I confront him and he just laughs. I tell him that is fucked up but shit, I would have done the same. He tells me I shouldn't care, I should just fuck Cook.
And that is where the story becomes a blur. Throughout the night that is the main topic of discussion when people actually talk to me. For the most part I just sit back and watch. At one point I try to confirm whether or not one of the female officers in my unit is a lesbian. She is not and I am somewhat disappointed.
More beers are consumed and plans begin to be made to head over to a karaoke bar. Every one gets ready to go. I look at the parking lot, drunk and content that it is still light out. I am reminded of when I first came to Fort Sill and would get a good midday drunk going while inprocessing. Good times.
Then I black out, or should I say, time travel. Next thing I know, I am sitting at the bar in the Impact Zone, the other bar on post. I chat with a bartender there and decide that I need to go. I pay my tab and walk back to my room.
Now for the twist. I awake around 1030 the next day and I feel good. Really, really good. I sit up in my bed and see I have few text messages and missed calls. I was texting some one last night. I read the first text message, "Way not cool messages to send. -Cook" What? I go to my sent messages.
Oh, shit. I was texting her everything we were saying. Everything about how that sergeant said I should fuck her, how people were surprised we weren't fucking already. All I could think was that I was fucked. I walked around my room for a good hour cursing myself. I knew I had to apologize but was to embarassed to call, texting seemed a little to high schoolish, so I decided to email a professional apology, but first I needed a drink.
I went and picked up a case of beer. When I got back to my room I surfed around on the net, drank and figured out what I was going to say. Then a knock at my door. It was Jackson wanting to know if I wanted to go the strip club with them. Fuck it, the apology could wait.
So we went out, drank, bought some lap dances, drank, joked, drank and got some Taco Bell. It was a good night but reminded me of how much fun I could have had if I were in Germany or if the bars never closed around here.
So I went back to my room and had a few more beers and went to bed. I couldn't apologize for my drunken text messages with a drunken email.
That morning I got up and composed my apology but didn't send it right away. Later that evening I sent the email. I followed the email with a text message apologizing and saying to check her email for a formal apology.
In the email I offered to leave the office it work was to uncomfortable and that she had every reason to hate me. I was dumb. All night I was worried about the outcome, not because it could be bad but because I didn't know what it was. I stayed up all night and finally went to PT.
I avoided all contact, not wanting to push my luck and have a huge scene blow up in front of everybody. Then in the middle of formation a tap on my elbow. It was Cook and all she said was, "We're good." I was clear. I felt good.
Now I know what you are thinking, "Joe, you lucked out. You could have been fucked." Well you are right I could be in a lot of shit but I am not. I beat the odds, lucked out, it doesn't matter. Nothing bad happened and it feels good.
So the lesson from all of this. If you are going to go out and drink, don't take your cellphone. Seriously, it is 2009, every one you hang out with has a cell phone. If you need get a cab or you are in trouble, they got you covered. Even if you are like myself and like to drink in a bar alone, the bartender will have no problem calling you a cab. This is the only way you will not get drunk and make a deadly mistake with your phone.
One last thing that did come from last Friday, apparently my sergeant heard I was pretty drunk and came to my room and checked on me. He told me about this Monday morning and said I was pretty fucked up but saw that I was fine. I don't ever remember him coming by. He said it was around 2am when he stopped by. I want to ask him one question but know it will fuck up our work relationship and some things are better left unsaid, but when I woke up on Saturday, I was naked. I hope that wasn't an odd conversation.
And now a poem by Charles Bukowski:
Roll the Dice
if you’re going to try, go all the
way.
otherwise, don’t even start.
if you’re going to try, go all the
way. this could mean losing girlfriends,
wives, relatives, jobs and
maybe your mind.
go all the way.
it could mean not eating for 3 or
4 days.
it could mean freezing on a
park bench.
it could mean jail,
it could mean derision,
mockery,
isolation.
isolation is the gift,
all the others are a test of your
endurance, of
how much you really want to
do it.
and you’ll do it
despite rejection and the
worst odds
and it will be better than
anything else
you can imagine.
if you’re going to try,
go all the way.
there is no other feeling like
that.
you will be alone with the
gods
and the nights will flame with
fire.
do it, do it, do it.
do it.
all the way
all the way.
you will ride life straight to
perfect laughter,
it’s the only good fight
there is.
I put on a nice suit, pocket square included, and rode down there with my soldier, Cook to take photos then drink. There was to be a good group of people there and sure to be a good time. We waited around for our colonel and general who was visiting. When they finally arrived we snapped photos for about twenty minutes and went to the bar to get a drink we both were dying for.
We set ourselves up near the pool table and bought each other beer after beer, people stopping by to tell us both how well dressed we were. I don't want to brag but she only looked as good as she did because she was next to me. I was that damn good looking.
Anyways, after about three beers or so, we had to go take more photos. We broke up the monotony with cigarettes and a shot here and there from one of the NCOs in my unit. Every now and then I would wander off to shoot the shit with some guys I know, trying to make the night interesting. When I went up to the bar, the one NCO was there with all the Miller Light Girls and we did shots of tequila out of their tits. Then, the two oddest things happened. My commander fucked me with her eyes and a voiced told me "to get my skinny ass over here." At first I was confused and thought the commander told me to come over but I realized the voice came from behind me.
It was Laurie, my favorite bartender who I had not seen in almost six months. I was going to by a beer but some major bought me one instead. I talked to Laurie for a little bit, found out she was pregnant and things were going pretty well with work despite working two horrible jobs, the bar and a cell phone company.
I realized I was ignoring Cook, so I told her I would see her around and we would catch up some more. I didn't see her for the rest of the night. When I got back to Cook she was finishing her beer and said she her husband would be picking her up in a few minutes. So we chatted a few more minutes then she left. Then, us boys got together and shit got fun.
Outside I continued to drink. The sergeant I know devised a plan for us and my OIC to hook up with the Miller Light Girls. Cool but then ten minutes later he is in the parking lot with all three of them fooling around. Fuck it. So I continue to drink.
When sergeant come back my OIC and I confront him and he just laughs. I tell him that is fucked up but shit, I would have done the same. He tells me I shouldn't care, I should just fuck Cook.
And that is where the story becomes a blur. Throughout the night that is the main topic of discussion when people actually talk to me. For the most part I just sit back and watch. At one point I try to confirm whether or not one of the female officers in my unit is a lesbian. She is not and I am somewhat disappointed.
More beers are consumed and plans begin to be made to head over to a karaoke bar. Every one gets ready to go. I look at the parking lot, drunk and content that it is still light out. I am reminded of when I first came to Fort Sill and would get a good midday drunk going while inprocessing. Good times.
Then I black out, or should I say, time travel. Next thing I know, I am sitting at the bar in the Impact Zone, the other bar on post. I chat with a bartender there and decide that I need to go. I pay my tab and walk back to my room.
Now for the twist. I awake around 1030 the next day and I feel good. Really, really good. I sit up in my bed and see I have few text messages and missed calls. I was texting some one last night. I read the first text message, "Way not cool messages to send. -Cook" What? I go to my sent messages.
Oh, shit. I was texting her everything we were saying. Everything about how that sergeant said I should fuck her, how people were surprised we weren't fucking already. All I could think was that I was fucked. I walked around my room for a good hour cursing myself. I knew I had to apologize but was to embarassed to call, texting seemed a little to high schoolish, so I decided to email a professional apology, but first I needed a drink.
I went and picked up a case of beer. When I got back to my room I surfed around on the net, drank and figured out what I was going to say. Then a knock at my door. It was Jackson wanting to know if I wanted to go the strip club with them. Fuck it, the apology could wait.
So we went out, drank, bought some lap dances, drank, joked, drank and got some Taco Bell. It was a good night but reminded me of how much fun I could have had if I were in Germany or if the bars never closed around here.
So I went back to my room and had a few more beers and went to bed. I couldn't apologize for my drunken text messages with a drunken email.
That morning I got up and composed my apology but didn't send it right away. Later that evening I sent the email. I followed the email with a text message apologizing and saying to check her email for a formal apology.
In the email I offered to leave the office it work was to uncomfortable and that she had every reason to hate me. I was dumb. All night I was worried about the outcome, not because it could be bad but because I didn't know what it was. I stayed up all night and finally went to PT.
I avoided all contact, not wanting to push my luck and have a huge scene blow up in front of everybody. Then in the middle of formation a tap on my elbow. It was Cook and all she said was, "We're good." I was clear. I felt good.
Now I know what you are thinking, "Joe, you lucked out. You could have been fucked." Well you are right I could be in a lot of shit but I am not. I beat the odds, lucked out, it doesn't matter. Nothing bad happened and it feels good.
So the lesson from all of this. If you are going to go out and drink, don't take your cellphone. Seriously, it is 2009, every one you hang out with has a cell phone. If you need get a cab or you are in trouble, they got you covered. Even if you are like myself and like to drink in a bar alone, the bartender will have no problem calling you a cab. This is the only way you will not get drunk and make a deadly mistake with your phone.
One last thing that did come from last Friday, apparently my sergeant heard I was pretty drunk and came to my room and checked on me. He told me about this Monday morning and said I was pretty fucked up but saw that I was fine. I don't ever remember him coming by. He said it was around 2am when he stopped by. I want to ask him one question but know it will fuck up our work relationship and some things are better left unsaid, but when I woke up on Saturday, I was naked. I hope that wasn't an odd conversation.
And now a poem by Charles Bukowski:
Roll the Dice
if you’re going to try, go all the
way.
otherwise, don’t even start.
if you’re going to try, go all the
way. this could mean losing girlfriends,
wives, relatives, jobs and
maybe your mind.
go all the way.
it could mean not eating for 3 or
4 days.
it could mean freezing on a
park bench.
it could mean jail,
it could mean derision,
mockery,
isolation.
isolation is the gift,
all the others are a test of your
endurance, of
how much you really want to
do it.
and you’ll do it
despite rejection and the
worst odds
and it will be better than
anything else
you can imagine.
if you’re going to try,
go all the way.
there is no other feeling like
that.
you will be alone with the
gods
and the nights will flame with
fire.
do it, do it, do it.
do it.
all the way
all the way.
you will ride life straight to
perfect laughter,
it’s the only good fight
there is.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Go Hard
I know I haven't posted in a long time. A very fuckin long time. I apologize for posting drunk. I never meant to as I was supposed to pick up a suit that you will read about in my real post. I was not able to get in touch with the cab company so I decided to drink. Mainly because I saw that the captain that works in my office was there so I figured that it wouldn't be that bad. I went there and drank. Drank, drank and drank. There was a female captain there that is in our battalion who doesn't look that bad but damn, I would fuck that shit. And right there I realized what the military is all about. It is all about doing whatever the fuck you want no matter what the rule is. Yeah she is single but still an officer so I would be wrong, but yet I dont think anyone would care. So as of now, I don't give a shit. I'm just going to do whatever. Married, got a boyfriend, I don't give a fuck once you wrap yourself around my cock.
This is pretty blunt but it is what is going on, so I it doesn't matter if I mention it or the Army Chief of Staff.
In the end, we all end the game the same way.
This is pretty blunt but it is what is going on, so I it doesn't matter if I mention it or the Army Chief of Staff.
In the end, we all end the game the same way.
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