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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.
Friday, April 10, 2009
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.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Three Things You Will Never Read In My Writings
1. Murderer(s)
I have ventured to the dark sides of life many of times, but this here is too dark for my inner self to handle.
2. Serial Rapist(s)
I could "handle" covering a rape. I believe in myself to be strong enough to to interview a rapist and get into that psyche, but a person who's only way to get their jolly's off is to rape many men and/or women, well, I don't think I am tough skin enough.
3. Myself and My Sins
This last part is a lie. If and when I do publish my novel you will know that everything I do write about is my sins. Things I have done, things I have witnessed. Responsibilities that I have assumed.
Off Topic:
I just thought this ( I am watching "Capote" right now. I sit here and believe that I could never use any one, but is that not what I am doing with the people that live in these barracks? Using them to justify why I write? Why I live? Why I do what I do?
Hypocrite comes to mind, and it is the right word. (Palahniuk reference)
I have ventured to the dark sides of life many of times, but this here is too dark for my inner self to handle.
2. Serial Rapist(s)
I could "handle" covering a rape. I believe in myself to be strong enough to to interview a rapist and get into that psyche, but a person who's only way to get their jolly's off is to rape many men and/or women, well, I don't think I am tough skin enough.
3. Myself and My Sins
This last part is a lie. If and when I do publish my novel you will know that everything I do write about is my sins. Things I have done, things I have witnessed. Responsibilities that I have assumed.
Off Topic:
I just thought this ( I am watching "Capote" right now. I sit here and believe that I could never use any one, but is that not what I am doing with the people that live in these barracks? Using them to justify why I write? Why I live? Why I do what I do?
Hypocrite comes to mind, and it is the right word. (Palahniuk reference)
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
In the Mirror
Any man that lives in the world he observes is bound to wake up one day and look in the mirror, only to have one thought in his mind. Fuck. It won’t make sense. He will go on throughout his day watching every one get themselves deeper and deeper in trouble, or worse, slowly kill themselves. Then, as he gets comfortable with the night and gets on his soap box, it will hit him. He can’t do this anymore.
He can’t keep working for something he doesn’t believe in. Turning a blind eye to every small injustice because he is to young to understand the way the game is played. To new to be accepted by grizzled vets, and abused for their wants.
He plays along after that realization because he is not sure if what he is feeling is true. He always believed that he never felt at all, because after all the shit he has done can he be redeemed and taken seriously as a man of what is right?
I guess if you have faith, he could be. But no one has faith anymore.
We are so caught up in the drama that is played out on our televisions that we believe that we are the stars of our very own dramas. Well we don’t have millions of viewers. Most of us don’t live interesting lives. But we can’t just do what we do and be happy, no, that is to easy. We have to find a way to show we are special. Unique. Important.
So we believe everyone has this hidden agenda, this deep dark secret that we must find out so we can be the heroes. So people will listen to us. So we are important. And for some reason, that makes us sleep better at night. Until we look in the mirror and say that four letter word.
That is where I am now, except I have prolonged this moment. It has been a little over a year since I looked in that mirror and ever since then I have been able to forget about it until recently. I woke up on a very long weekend and looked in the mirror. After staring at myself for a few minutes I forgot how badly I had to piss. I turned and looked around my room. Nothing was in order. Everything a mess. I realized that I did not care anymore.
I thought about the work I had been putting off and how it did not matter to me because I was not passionate about it. I felt nothing, even after being told that the paperwork was being submitted to get me on the track to the job I had been fighting to get for a year.
A couple of nights passed, then I as I came home from the bar, two soldiers started acting like drunken idiots that most young soldiers act like. After a few pushes and them telling me to leave and that I was a faggot (to which I sarcastically replied, “That’s right. I like cock,” because I am a dick like that), one tried to chase me down. I quickly countered this by running past the non commissioned officer on duty and up the stairs. In the process, hurting my foot, ankle and knee.
When I got back to my room and sat down, I realized that I was done. Done with the bullshit. Done with the amateurs. Done with the beaners (may I add that I am not a racist in any form, but I was so pissed off, and drunk, at these two Hispanic soldiers that I actually used the word beaner when talking to woman I most deeply care about).
Now I don’t have a plan. Sure I can go to college or get some other job, but I can’t wake up every day and try to act like I care. I can’t give everything they ask for and then some. It’s just not in me like it was a year ago, and that is the worst part because now I have to question everything about me.
Am I a pussy who can’t be a soldier? Am I a man? Am I better than these idiots? Lower? Am I looking for an excuse?
I don’t know and don’t demand an answer from me. All I know is that for once, I want to wake up and be happy about who I am. If that means that I am a nobody, wannabe writer with no income, well, I guess that is who I am.
He can’t keep working for something he doesn’t believe in. Turning a blind eye to every small injustice because he is to young to understand the way the game is played. To new to be accepted by grizzled vets, and abused for their wants.
He plays along after that realization because he is not sure if what he is feeling is true. He always believed that he never felt at all, because after all the shit he has done can he be redeemed and taken seriously as a man of what is right?
I guess if you have faith, he could be. But no one has faith anymore.
We are so caught up in the drama that is played out on our televisions that we believe that we are the stars of our very own dramas. Well we don’t have millions of viewers. Most of us don’t live interesting lives. But we can’t just do what we do and be happy, no, that is to easy. We have to find a way to show we are special. Unique. Important.
So we believe everyone has this hidden agenda, this deep dark secret that we must find out so we can be the heroes. So people will listen to us. So we are important. And for some reason, that makes us sleep better at night. Until we look in the mirror and say that four letter word.
That is where I am now, except I have prolonged this moment. It has been a little over a year since I looked in that mirror and ever since then I have been able to forget about it until recently. I woke up on a very long weekend and looked in the mirror. After staring at myself for a few minutes I forgot how badly I had to piss. I turned and looked around my room. Nothing was in order. Everything a mess. I realized that I did not care anymore.
I thought about the work I had been putting off and how it did not matter to me because I was not passionate about it. I felt nothing, even after being told that the paperwork was being submitted to get me on the track to the job I had been fighting to get for a year.
A couple of nights passed, then I as I came home from the bar, two soldiers started acting like drunken idiots that most young soldiers act like. After a few pushes and them telling me to leave and that I was a faggot (to which I sarcastically replied, “That’s right. I like cock,” because I am a dick like that), one tried to chase me down. I quickly countered this by running past the non commissioned officer on duty and up the stairs. In the process, hurting my foot, ankle and knee.
When I got back to my room and sat down, I realized that I was done. Done with the bullshit. Done with the amateurs. Done with the beaners (may I add that I am not a racist in any form, but I was so pissed off, and drunk, at these two Hispanic soldiers that I actually used the word beaner when talking to woman I most deeply care about).
Now I don’t have a plan. Sure I can go to college or get some other job, but I can’t wake up every day and try to act like I care. I can’t give everything they ask for and then some. It’s just not in me like it was a year ago, and that is the worst part because now I have to question everything about me.
Am I a pussy who can’t be a soldier? Am I a man? Am I better than these idiots? Lower? Am I looking for an excuse?
I don’t know and don’t demand an answer from me. All I know is that for once, I want to wake up and be happy about who I am. If that means that I am a nobody, wannabe writer with no income, well, I guess that is who I am.
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