NOTE: If you are easily offended by offensive things then please go somewhere else. I suggest or, you wuss!


Sunday, February 23, 2003

Got me an almost adult-like feeling of contentment I'm not used to.

MOOD: tiredcontentsore


Sitting here sober, almost three in the morning. Feeling tired, feeling sore from working out, feeling annoying from always having to babysitting all the drunk people around me. Sitting here watching the only movie that can currently make me cry, but in a good way, watching that and drinking soda, taking my valerian root and my melatonin, hoping I get to see the pay-per-view this evening.

Slow, quiet feelings of contentment that I know I shouldn't be feeling but somehow am. Feelings of confusion but not loud, screaming questions of who I am and where should I be. They're just sort of sitting on the porch smoking a cigarette, minding their own. The predominant emotion is one of quiet cool, one of quiet contentment. One of silence.

At work today, all this shit with my brother and Casey and the lovebirds and my family and my financial problems just sort of built up on me like a drug that's slow but eventually has you on your back foaming at the mouth. I was angry. Not my usual sort of quiet, passive, low rage anger but one that had my knuckles white and my teeth clenched. Adding to the fire was this fuel of idiotic people, these stupid fucking wasteless masses of humanity why had no idea what the fuck they were looking for but expected me to find it.

Nothing but sadness and stress and loneliness and above all anger, high intensity anger and rage coursing through my entire body. Wanted to get into a fight. Wanted to have sex with a complete and total stranger. Wanted a shot of Imperial Whiskey. Wanted to set someone's house on fire.

When we were closed, I got a hug from Katie, one of my cute little work crushes. Just getting a hug from her, having her hold me in her arms, I found myself near tears for the rest of the night. Not from sadness or loneliness but from a lack of angeer and a profound realization on the idiocy of existance but not in a depression sense. From then on I found a bizarre subconscious realization somewhere within myself that whatever's happening to me, whatever's going on with me and with the world around me, that it's all just bullshit and that I should just get a soda and have a smoke and move on with my life. Not so much embracing the chaos but realizing it's there, saying hi to it, and just moving on with things.

Got an e-mail from Collyne, breaking the silence that has grown between us since she decided to fall in love with me, promise me that she would love me forever, then leave me for her ex-husband. Wasn't expecting an e-mail from her, especially one saying that she was starting a new life, wiping the slate clean, that I was a teriffic friend (I've said it before and I'll say it again - I'm everyone's nice, cute gay friend but without the gay part), but that I could no longer be a part of her life anymore.

Ain't that about a bitch?

That should have me sad. That should have me dressing in black and painting my fingernails black and smoking cloves and shaving my head and wtriting shitty poetry and listening to The Cure and all that ostentatiously depressing bullshit. And yet somehow I'm not. I'm not drinking to forget. Instead, I'm embracing the past but not to excess so that I can focus on the future, whatever it may be. I'm not slowing down. Instead, I find that I have more energy, more drive, like I was back in high school. In fact, I'm not sad at all. I'm just sitting here, drinking my soda, watching my movies, and waiting for Stone Cold to come back.

Sure I'm sad. I mean, I loved Collyne. I could have seen myself spending my life trying to make her smile. I could have seen a lot of happiness for a long, long time. And in the year that I have known her, I really did fall bad for that woman on countless occasions. But she has a weakness for her ex, the infamous Big HIM, and they have something that I could never take away or even come close to replacing.

And I don't want to say the "B" word, because I'm not that kind of guy, but, I mean, she has spent the last year collecting the pieces of my broken heart like they're fucking Beanie Babies and the road that I am on is not a new one for me, nor is this the first time she's sent me down this road. Nothing new. All that is new is old and the setting I find myself in is one that I've been in so many times past that this time around, it doesn't hurt as much.

Fuck 'em. Time will still tick relentlessly on and the world will keep spinning and life will continue to kick me in the fucking testicles regardless of if this woman loves me. So fuck 'em. Life goes on, even if you don't want it to, so suck it in and walk it off. That's what I say and so far it's worked for me.

Monday, February 17, 2003

Holding on to shadows keeps me from walking into the light.

MOOD: tiredlongingcontenthorny

BACKGROUND: Ash "Nu-Clear Sound"

Desperately clutching on to fog, to shadows and dreams that aren't really there, trying to make myself believe that they're real, that they are something that I can hold on to, some last shred of hope, when all that I'm doing is stopping myself from any real growth, putting a subconscious break on any forward movement inside myself.

The best way that I can describe it is that by explaining the first time I rode on Space Mountain. I was so scared of going on it. I was shaking, teeth chattering, my heart racing like a motherfucker, my hands all sweaty. Me trying to force back tears. I was never one for the dark and for roller coasters, even more so when I was younger. And eventually when I was at the front of the line, I just started crying and I refused to get on the ride. Eventually, my friends went on the ride and I waited for them at the exit crying. It was two years until I went back to Disneyland and had a chance for vindication but what matters is that yes, I did eventually get on that ride and yes, I had a great damn time.

Now, fuck, that's my favorite ride in Disneyland and I ride it over and over again and i feel like such a fucking idiot for being so scared to ride it and being so frightened about it. And yet, still to this day, no matter who I'm with, what the situation, no matter how old I am, I'll be in line, what, thirteen, fourteen years later, a man in my mid-twenties, and I'll be in line and out of nowhere I'll be punched in the gut by that pinch of fear, that pinch of a little brown kid with glasses crying, refusing to get on the ride, and for a few seconds, I'll try my damdest not to be scared as all fuck.

That's how I feel right now. Here's an example ... had a dream last night about Debby, about my estranged ex-fiance. In the dream, we were hand in hand walking around Metrocenter Mall, walking around the huge parking lot and surrounding shops. It was a hot summer day and we were holding hands and walking and just talking and it felt so damn good. I woke up feeling happy, feeling refreshed, chipper, ready to take on the whole empire myself. Almost felt in love again. And after a few hours, the happiness turned to hurt, to loneliness, to sadness that I don't have that happiness in my life anymore, that I have to gleam it from some dream inside my head.

Got out of work at around 11:45 pm, a little bit before midnight. It was about fifty degrees outside and to a man from the desert that's absolute nut-freezing cold. My breath was shooting out in long mysts and I was feeling like my head was dragging behind my body, so I decided not to go home directly but to drive around, see the lights and the fog and the city for a while, explore this strange place I've been in for a year, try at least a little bit to expand my miniscule driving comfort radius. And just like all those times in Phoenix where I would get out of church or get out of work at the video store and decide to "just drive" and end up near Sarah's house or Susan's house or Debby's house, wouldn't you know it that eventually I was in Collyne's neighborhood driving around, falsely praying for a sighting to happen that I knew wasn't going to happen.

It was only for about a minute or two. And it wasn't like I was staring into her window or anything because I'm not crazy stalker boy here. I'm just a little man who wants what he doesn't have and has what he doesn't want. Story of my life.

Eventually drove away from her neighborhood, realizing what a stupid fucking idiot I was. Forced myself to go to a Safeway and get myself some candy, some ice cream, some frozen food, some soda (and at midnight on a sunday - can you tell that I'm single yet) and I don't know how or why but when I started driving home I just seemed to have a spring in my step, a shitty, pernicious little grin on my lips, and a strange feeling of contentment that came from nowhere and is seemingly staying with me for a while. Which is cool. I welcome it. Nice to have company.

But that's me, that's Steve, that's Reverend Sober Steve-O, trying to hold on to shadows, on his knees in tears when all he should do is just get on the roller coaster and let himself have some fun.

Coulda gotten laid last night. You know the women I talk about, the ones that with just a pinch of subtle, chess-like strategy, I could end up having them fuck my brains out? Well, this is a different one, a casual friend for quite some time now, that hopenly and honestly wanted to take me home and fuck the shit out of me. And I ended up not riding Space Mountain again. Why? Thoughts of Debby, thoughts of Collyne, thoughts of Sarah, thoughts of happiness, the happiness I had with women, the love I miss, the love I want back. Bullshit like that.

And what I should have done is just take a deep breath, try to let go, detach myself for once, and just let myself have some fucking fun. Stop trying to hold on to things that can't stay. Stop sitting at the bus stop as the past drives away. Always been the sort of guy who slowly gets into the cold water in the pool, the guy who gets in a little bit at a time, slowly, painfully, drawn out.

I gotta learn to just jump the fuck in.

Friday, February 14, 2003

"What Valentine's Day Means to Me" by Steve Galindo

MOOD: tiredloopylonelysick

BACKGROUND: Green Apple Quick Step "Reloaded"

I figured since today is Valentine's Day and I am the most single man in Sacramento that I would be a lot more sad, more depressed, more emo than I find myself feeling. I mean, sure I'm feeling a bit sad and lonely sitting here alone with my Carl's Jr. and my Kazaa downloading Busta Rhymes songs and my cold coffee right next to my large Coke and my heavy memories of love with my ex-fiance and my Collyne. But I'm not too sad, too lonely. I'm not kicking my own ass or swimming in my tears and I still seem to have a positive aura around me that reminds me that everything is going to be alright.

I seem to attract, or better yet, be attracted to women that aren't your typical women. I seem to gravitate towards women that refuse to stay at home and wash the clothes or anything like that. I get the different women, the short, crazy haired, rebel women who smoke and spit and don't take any shit from anyone. So in every relationship I've ever had I've had the woman who thinks that Valentine's Day is just a stupid marketing ploy to make Americans buy products, you know?

And all of that sucks because in reality I'm very much a traditional guy. I want to buy the flowers and dress up for a night on the town. I want to lavish a woman with affection on Valentine's Day. And it sucks that I can't, that I'm going to spend this friday night, this Valentine's Day, watching Spiper-Man again and daydreaming about the perfect woman and what she'll look like when I finally meet her. Praying that I haven't already met her.

Trying to stay positive today. Took myself to go see the new Big Budget Bastardiization of a Comic Book movie this afternoon. Better than I expected. And of course, me being mister low-level comic book geek, I geeked out over the plethora of in-jokes hidden in the film for people who know who Brian Michael Bendis is or what Frank Miller looks like. Went out and bought me some music after that. Good stuff. Taking Back Sunday, Ash, Groovie Ghoulies, Transplants, Elvis Costello. Trying to be happy with just myself which I found to be very difficult when everywhere I turned I saw people holding hands and kissing and telling each other how much they loved each other. I remember that.

Tuesday, February 11, 2003

Trying to stay positive is a 24/7 job for me, one that never seems to get any easier and one that seems to be an especially difficult uphill battle today.

MOOD: tiredhornybored

BACKGROUND: Social Burn "Where You Are" (just came out today and worth buying)

Want to write a novel. Want to beat a video game. Want to have sweaty, nonstop, hardcore sex with a complete stranger. Want to get into a mosh pit and feel what it feels like to get the crap beaaten out of me. Want to write a rock opera and then rip it to shreds. Want to help Wile E. Coyote catch that goddamm Road Runner. Want to set someone's house on fire. Want to run a marathon. Want to boo the good guy and root for the bad guy. Want to get on stage and act in a Shakespearian play. Want to get into a fight. Want to shoot Jesus Christ in the face. Want to bodyslam Andre the Giant at Wrestlemania. Want to become a vampire. Want to piss on Col. Sanders' gravestone. Want to dig up Mother Teresa and play football with her head. Want to get on the roof and scream until I start spitting up big chunks of my own blood. Want to shoot Reb Bull directly into my bloodstream. Want to cum all over the floors of a church. Want to watch the movie Groundhog Day over and over and over again. Want to beat up Ronald McDonald. Want to learn how to fly. Want to stay up late and never sleep again.

That's how I feel right now. All of that rolled up into a big, fat ball of low-intensity anger and thick, fog-like confusion. All that with just a pinch of loneliness.

So I'm here eating KFC and listening to good music and trying not to think so negatively about myself. Trying not to think about the lovebirds and what they might be doing right now. Trying not to think about my past wednesdays going to go visit my girls. Trying not to think about alcahol and how much I want a drink right now. Trying not to think about the massive financial responsibilities that lie ahead of me. Trying not to think about how lonely I am and how single I am.

It's like socialburn's song "Ashes" - there's always somebody who's out there waiting for someone to take them away. And that's been me for way too long now, me here with my cold cup of coffee and my burnt cigarette and my suitcase packed waiting for for someone to take me away. Well, it's time for self-empowerment, time for me to get the hell up and start doing things for myself.

I don't want to go out tonight, but I will, come hell or high water, even if I have to force myself.

I'm going to be myself, be stupid and be lonely and watch wrestling and buy comic books and jerk off to porn and download songs and I'm not going to care two shits about how I look or who opproves or disapproves. Fuck the nay-sayers amd fuck the religious right and fuck the racists and fuck the politicians and fuck the SUV owners and fuck the upper class and fuck the celebrities and fuck the president and fuck the hunters and fuck the war supporters. I'm going to be me and I'm not going to care if you like that or not.

This isn't power to the people - it's power to the self, plain and simple. Plain and simple. Power to the fucking self.

I'm going out tonight.

Sunday, February 9, 2003

I always find myself attracted to my co-workers and it was only last night that I think I finally unearthed the reasoning why I always find myself like this: I am an idiot.

MOOD: quiethyperlonely

BACKGROUND: (band from Phoenix that does nothing but cover video game music)

I remember Sheena, the seventeen year old from my old video store job, your typical seventeen year old five-foot-three girl that loves to flirt with anything with a pulse sort of girls. Kind of like the blonde girl from the movie American Beauty. I know that she was stupid and that she that loved to fuck all her co-workers but dammit if I didn't hold this secret thing for her. And I actually ended up dating one of my co-workers from the old video store job for a while. And at my old bookstore, oh man, anyone that was under thirty years old eventually I had a mad crush on. Crushes. That's a good way to put it.

Here in Sacramento, in my mind at least, everyone I know is either dating someone or married to someone or recently divorced from someone or single with kids and that goes for all my co-workers, of which I can think of about five or six women I work with that I do NOT have a crush on. But, I don't know, I'm almost twenty six. I'm getting older, less of a crazy spazz, more calm, and definitely more mature, and my crushes don't have the bite, the strength, the sting that they had two, three years ago. Which is good.

No morenews from the sex front. I'm confident in my statement that at any time I could easily have it, but I choose not to. Why? Because I am a dumb, brown asshole. A tease, is how my co-worker likes to call me. I'm trying to delagate myself to being the cute, shy, sensitive single guy now, trying to convince myself that I don't have to find the girl of my dreams, that I don't need to have a woman right next to me taking care of me and feeding my male ego. Trying to convince myself to be sober, which is a bitch, I'll tell you, but it's something I have to do.

No words from the lovebirds but, honestly, as much as I miss her and miss them and as much as I would like to work this all out and go on with my life, I have to realize the fact that they want to shut me out of their lives and if they want to and will continue to do that, then I just need to pull up my pants and say well fuck you, too to them and move on with my life without those two messes up fucking freaks.

Screw this. I'm Reverend Steve.

Saturday, February 8, 2003

While I was dating, I always fantasized single life as a hot, steamy romance novel, not a boring episode of Montel like it is now.

MOOD: quiettiredconfused

BACKGROUND: Kids in the Hall

First off, my four-time ex Col and her big HIM ex-boyfriend/husband, now and forever known as the lovebirds are still ignoring me. That's a constant thorn in my side, the fact that a mere two/three weeks ago, she was telling me how she wanted to spend the rest of my life with me. And now here I am, tired and confused and trying to deal with being ignored. Trying to put that into a proper sort of perspective, reading self-help books on letting go and all that. Trying to just chalk that one up to all the other ones, ruining things with Sarah and Debby. The list goes on and on.

My only hope that one day in the future, she comes back to be and breaks my heart again, making her a five-time ex, so that I can say five time, five time, five time, five time, five time ex, just like Booker T says when he's talking about being five-time WCW champion. That would be really cool, real rock star.

So that's that.

Halfway went to the bar tonight just to see if they were there, just so that I could have friends to talk to, someone to stare at. I know that's depressing, but that's the truth. I'm going through a really rough transitional time right now, what with my quitting drinking and eating healthy and working out and taking my hand towards poetry and songwriting and all that, just trying to better myself. Wish I had some real friends, like they were. Sure, the three of us are in a horrible triangle that would make Shakespeare buy me a beer, but above all we've been through, we've been friends. And I miss them.

Up next, there's the hot, tall, beautiful young woman co-worker of mine who occasionally wants me. The only negative part about this situation is that she acts just like that towards me - she occasionally wants me, occasionally wants to just take me home and ravish me sexually between pangs of guilt over her boyfriend/ex-boyfriend whatever thing. It feels good to have a woman, a beautiful young woman who wants me, who I like and who likes me. I haven't really had that for a while and it feels really good, makes me feel better about myself, plus I really do have these subconsciously strong feelings for her.

But, like I said, she occasionally wants me. There's this other man in the equation thatconfuses things. I always have another man in the situation that fucks things up, whether it's an angry white father or the Big HIM or the angry ex, it's always something with me and my sad, pathetic attemps at love. And it's also my low self-esteem, but I'm trrying to work with that. It just doesn't help that I keep putting myself into these sad, lonely nights.

There's another woman in my life. She's nice, kind, funny, honest, open, and she just hangs over every inch of me and every single thing I do. The only problem is that she is older than me. In fact, she's much much much much MUCH older than I am. And when I see her and spend time with her, which is really quite rare, I know that with just a little bit of effort on my part I could easily transition things into a night of incredibly dirty, hardcore, kinky sex. Easily. The age thing, though, is really something that I just cannot get past, although every time I see her, which is indeed very rare, I think about just letting myself go into the moment and let myself have sex.

I feel that I need to have someone. Does that make any sense? Before all this bizarro crap with Col, I was with Deb, which was about two and a half years of love. Before that, there was two/three years with Sarah, then a year and a half with Susan. And, in retrospect, the single moments I had in-between these women was no more than a month or two as I literally just skyrocketed from love of my life to love of my life. I haven't been single and alone for years now, I think since I was in high school, and goddammit if I wasn't miserable in high school.

Now that I'm older, more mature, I don't know step fucking one about dating, about meeting people, about finding a nice, kind, SINGLE girl and initiate the dating process. And now that I'm older and more mature I'm at this bizarre impass wherein I find myself single and wanting a woman to spend my life with and yet wondering at the exact same time if I really need someone, another woman, in my life right now. I think that at this point in my life I should really be single and yet for every second I'm single I just want to be holding hands with a woman and talking with a woman and holding a woman and having a woman hold me, someone to bond with and have fun with and get into kooky adventures with.

I suck big fat brown mexican ass right now. Me, a nice, kind, sensitive, single man with a sex drive that could kill a small buffalo. Damm, maybe I should start drinking again.

I say that with only a pinch of seriousness, really, I do.

Well, if you haven't seen it yet, my acting debut is available as an on-line life action web serial at Feast of Fools Films and it's pretty good, really it is. New chapters appear every two weeks. Chapter two, which I am not in, just premiered a day or two ago and although it does not feature the latino heat it's a great scene writingwise and actingwise and worth a look.

I'm just a bit nervous, though. Chapter three will be available in less than two weeks and it features the female lead, the young, sexy vixen who uses anything and anyone to get what she wants, right? And it's my ex-fiance, Deborah. And I haven't seen her in almost a year now, her living in Phoenix and me living in Cowtown, California. I think that just might be a pretty painful week, especially if it's one of those nude scenes I was quietly upset about back when we were dating and filming this sucker.

Getting tired now. Good night, whoever you are.

Friday, February 7, 2003

Might get laid tonight/might find myself lonely and alone tonight, so we'll see what happens.

MOOD: wishingsleep

BACKGROUND: last night's "Smackdown" (which sucked, BTW)

This is the worst, most painful part of the whole giving up drinking spectrum, the hours and hours and hours where the night gets later and later and the sky goes from dark to pitch black to opening rays of sunlight and there you are in front of your computer or in front of your Terry Pratchett book, completely awake. I do not regret quitting drinking, not at all, but I miss my head hitting the pillow in a perfectly ignorant, perfectly peaceful haze that you only get from a few beers in your system. I miss that a lot.

So I'm sitting here, typing various pointless thoughts, watching boring television, waiting for the Tylenol PM's I took to kick in. Thinking about all I've done and all I've still yet to face.

The lovebirds are still avoiding me, which is unfortunate, because I have a few things to face next week that are going to be really painfulI for me that I really could use a friendly face for, you know? My Kendra love is in Flagstaff, my friend Crazy Pat is in the army, the fucking idiot, my Jason is in a minimum security prison for another week or so, and then there's Casey, who may or may not give me a happy ending if you know what I mean.

Watched the movie Empire Records today for the first time ever. Damm good movie. Feel bad, though. Memories past sort of thoughts. That was my ex's favorite film and I never saw it, never really bothered to, actually, meanwhile I forced so much stupid shit down her ears and throat.

Now that I've seen the film, I think I finally see why my ex shaved her head that one time.

Speaking of ex-es, my girlfriend from my sophomore year of high school (1992) found me on the internet. Funny shit, her with her blonde hair and her blue eyes and her love of Jesus Christ and her marriage and her God-loving husband and her kid (and/or kids) and she puts my name in a search engine and finds the religion I created in 1996 to worship dead transvestite filmmaker Ed Wood and she freaks out and that, to me, is really fucking funny as all high hell. That's almost worth everything, all the abuse and the heartache and the repression I've fought through with my religion, just to piss her off.

I even apparently wrote something bad about her somewhere on the web site, which makes it all even cooler. Said that she was very dissappointed at me and the way my life was heading. Yeah, well, you're dad's an a-hole who hates brown people, so, it's like we're almost even, so that's cool.

And just to put a nail on the coffin, the Pope is like a walking, moaning, white turd, a big turd with a pointy hat on. He's like, what, three million years old right now? Shit, you know, you KNOW he's dying soon, right?

Going out tonight, come hell or high water.

Saturday, February 1, 2003

After three hours of sleep and an eight hour shift from Hell, I still feel as if I can take over the world.

MOOD: tiredstrangelyhappynervous

BACKGROUND: American Beauty

I really could go for a few hours of fucking sleep, though, sleep of which I was deprived of last night from excessive partying which I might add was well worth me being a living zombie today at work. I was going to take Bobbie, work Bobbie, to the Maple Room and flirt a bit and sing a bit and drink a bit (still sober, I might add) but I ended up going there with my brother and another frighteningly attractive young woman from work.

Never expected what happened to happen, I mean, what with me being a nice, kind, quiet guy instead of the annoying a-hole who gets all the women. But at a time when my fragile male ego needs all the boosts that it can get last night was just what I needed. I won't get into any details because they're a bit too personal - I mean, shit, I'll tell you every goddamm thing about every aspect of my life but things that deal with being physical are going too far, even for a man as open as me, so I'll be tight-lipped about tonight here.

I will say that a good time was had by all last night.

And on the war front, more strange b.s. is going on with the lovebirds (Col and the infamous Big HIM). Yesterday was a Kings game, which, to everyone with white skin, is akin to some sort of white trash Christmas over here in Sacramento. And that usually means, having been a close, personal friend of the lovebirds for almost a year now, means that they were probably drinking frightening amounts of alcahol and yelling at the television set.

And usually what happens when the lovebirds are done drinking and yelling is that they head on down to the bar. And I got two phone calls yesterday, one from the Big HIM's brother and one from Brother HIM's girlfriend, under the ruse of asking me how I am, checking up on me, with the question hey, are you going to the bar tonight always hidden in there somewhere, obviously calling me asking that on behest of a certain someone and a certain someone else.

A part of me should probably be angry and hurt and offended and pissed off and confused by that, by all this strange bullshit flying around my head from them, from the lovebirds and from getting my heart broken and from being suddenly shut out of the life of a woman that I really wanted to be with. But, and I would once again like to reiterate that I have no idea why I am the way that I seem to be recently, I seem to be mellow, in tune, relaxed, with only a slight pinch of sadness and the bizarre antics of the lovebirds are nothing more than the buzzing of a fly by my ear.

I'm sick of being a victim in my own life. I'm sick of trying too hard to be accepted. I'm sick of having my heart broken over and over by the same person. I'm sick of playing games, too. I just want to be myself and do my own things and write my own musings and just see what happens.

Going out tonight, come Hell or high water.