I have about 5000+ hits in under a year.
I post a lot. But I don't advertise on twitter...really at all...
I have about 600 hits from the UK and I'm happy I'm touching lives overseas. We've been to most continents, the middle east ( i know thats not a continent), africa, asia, south america....australia...it's a global blog of luv and understanding.
For those who read, thank you. I know most of my hits are from my friends and they've been very nice and very consistent. Please feel free to comment and ask for what you would like to read about (within the realm of decency - my mom reads this).
Blogs get tougher to write as you go on.
Love always,
dB.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Weird Kid
I was a weird kid. I was pretty skinny. I stopped enjoying tackle football at about 5th grade 'cause it hurt. I never slept that well due to physical pain.
Around the mid-80's I got obsessed with style. I would nag my parents to buy me overpriced Polo shirts. My mom caved in and got me a couple. I wore polo shirts and knit ties and felt cool. I listened to Wham, PowerStation, Duran Duran and others. This was a very shallow time for everyone involved. I loved it.
Me and my best buddy started a brief synth-pop with his keyboard. Everyone had a keyboard back then. The band lasted 2 sessions. We'd record our songs and play them in reverse. Art spaces and basements would be probably eatin' that shit up.
We also almost blew up our house one late night while trying to cook. It was a gas stove and we were clueless.
A lot of us were altar boys. The priests were weird. They were supposed to be our role models. For a while they were. Then those scandals came out and some of them were spotted in the neighborhood gay bars. Looking back, that whole thing is pretty whacked out. But when you're a kid, and you're told this is what your supposed to do, sometimes you go along with it.
Speaking of gay bars, me and friends in grade school were quite intrigued by the local one called the "Tender Trap." One summer afternoon we went down to scope it out and saw a child leaving it. We asked him if it was the "Tender Trap." He said yes. We were freaked out.
I got thrown out of the gym (near the "Tender Trap") once during a girls basketball game, for raising too much hell. I turned the light off on the coach as he going in the bathroom to bust my friends. He grabbed me by the shirt and threw me out. I was a martyr that night for the kids.
The best times were playing wiffle ball, basketball or pick-up football. It was always better if a I fight ensued over a call. I was always the voice of reason in these matters and I was also the best quarterback, especially on the run. Ocasionally I could return a kickoff. I never had the speed but I had head fakes and juke moves to get me free in the open field. Years of neglect and and eventual serious leg break has tragically ended my career in parking lot football and basketball, I haven't given up on wiffle ball yet. I hope I've been back what these games have given to me.
Because of certain outside influences, I think I grew up quite sexist. Chauvinism seemed to come natural to me at quite an early age without giving it any thought. There's something kind of silly about it. Maybe it was me getting back at all the horrible business woman style shit that was going on then (white sneakers and shoulder pads, I just couldn't handle). Plus it was a good way to get under people's skin. I've always found amusement in shocking or upsetting people.
I convinced a friend I was gay over the phone (I'm a good actor).
I laughed at a girl for having a crush on me in grade school. Well, that is funny isn't it?
I also used to insist the WWF was real to all of my friends to fuck with them. It worked.
My dad said I was always selfish and never wanted to share. This is true too. My uncle bought me popcorn once on a trip downtown and I refused to share it with anyone. And I was proud that I didn't. I used to threaten to stay home on family trips if I didn't get my way.
(what an asshole!)
I'd like to think I've broadened my horizons since then.
Around the mid-80's I got obsessed with style. I would nag my parents to buy me overpriced Polo shirts. My mom caved in and got me a couple. I wore polo shirts and knit ties and felt cool. I listened to Wham, PowerStation, Duran Duran and others. This was a very shallow time for everyone involved. I loved it.
Me and my best buddy started a brief synth-pop with his keyboard. Everyone had a keyboard back then. The band lasted 2 sessions. We'd record our songs and play them in reverse. Art spaces and basements would be probably eatin' that shit up.
We also almost blew up our house one late night while trying to cook. It was a gas stove and we were clueless.
A lot of us were altar boys. The priests were weird. They were supposed to be our role models. For a while they were. Then those scandals came out and some of them were spotted in the neighborhood gay bars. Looking back, that whole thing is pretty whacked out. But when you're a kid, and you're told this is what your supposed to do, sometimes you go along with it.
Speaking of gay bars, me and friends in grade school were quite intrigued by the local one called the "Tender Trap." One summer afternoon we went down to scope it out and saw a child leaving it. We asked him if it was the "Tender Trap." He said yes. We were freaked out.
I got thrown out of the gym (near the "Tender Trap") once during a girls basketball game, for raising too much hell. I turned the light off on the coach as he going in the bathroom to bust my friends. He grabbed me by the shirt and threw me out. I was a martyr that night for the kids.
The best times were playing wiffle ball, basketball or pick-up football. It was always better if a I fight ensued over a call. I was always the voice of reason in these matters and I was also the best quarterback, especially on the run. Ocasionally I could return a kickoff. I never had the speed but I had head fakes and juke moves to get me free in the open field. Years of neglect and and eventual serious leg break has tragically ended my career in parking lot football and basketball, I haven't given up on wiffle ball yet. I hope I've been back what these games have given to me.
Because of certain outside influences, I think I grew up quite sexist. Chauvinism seemed to come natural to me at quite an early age without giving it any thought. There's something kind of silly about it. Maybe it was me getting back at all the horrible business woman style shit that was going on then (white sneakers and shoulder pads, I just couldn't handle). Plus it was a good way to get under people's skin. I've always found amusement in shocking or upsetting people.
I convinced a friend I was gay over the phone (I'm a good actor).
I laughed at a girl for having a crush on me in grade school. Well, that is funny isn't it?
I also used to insist the WWF was real to all of my friends to fuck with them. It worked.
My dad said I was always selfish and never wanted to share. This is true too. My uncle bought me popcorn once on a trip downtown and I refused to share it with anyone. And I was proud that I didn't. I used to threaten to stay home on family trips if I didn't get my way.
(what an asshole!)
I'd like to think I've broadened my horizons since then.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Let's hear it for drama.
I decided I like drama. If people meant what they said and were direct life would be painful. Drama opens things up a bit.
It's a pleasant feeling to try to second guess what someone actually means. Headgames exercise part of the brains that don't get great activity.
Histrionics is always a spectacle. I like never knowing what's coming next. Scenes are great. It's even better when the cops are involved. This is what makes me tick. (I've never had a scene with the cops).
It's neat to say things with no care behind them. Generate reactions. Draw people in. Turn people away.
I'm here for the moment.
It's a pleasant feeling to try to second guess what someone actually means. Headgames exercise part of the brains that don't get great activity.
Histrionics is always a spectacle. I like never knowing what's coming next. Scenes are great. It's even better when the cops are involved. This is what makes me tick. (I've never had a scene with the cops).
It's neat to say things with no care behind them. Generate reactions. Draw people in. Turn people away.
I'm here for the moment.
Monday, August 8, 2011
Money/Markets/Nature/Alcohol.
Money is a service. Money is based on what people value and exchange. Right? When money ceases to be backed by anything and can be created by thin air things get distorted and manipulated. Manipulated by those who have agendas.
Markets are also based on the wants and needs of people. When markets are manipulated by outside forces things get distorted.
What gets lost in all of this is what people value. Money and markets are quite natural. There is nothing immoral or obscene about what I've stated. Violence and coercion have been a driving force in whats been going on for sometime now. Friends, this is how faux bubbles are created. Speaking about this doesn't mean I have the morality of coyote. It means that I'm honest.
We may decide to put various things/approaches over our most delicate eyes but what we are witnessing are the failed attempts of those in power to try to fix things and dare I say stimulate things in a magic/mythical sort of way.
Dear friends/brothers/disciples realize that this is pure mythology......things can never be manipulated in a magical way by those who claim to know better than us on our economy. It's bigger than the ivory tower (a protected haven for those who don't do anything)...and we now see that QE1, QE2, and QE3 are failed attempts....may we work towards non violence, a FREE market, and voluntaryism....this isn't cold....this is nature....this is peace, this is love.
be well, and sleep well...i'm very tanked. but very vindicated. Rise above dear friends. We haven't seen the worst yet.
Markets are also based on the wants and needs of people. When markets are manipulated by outside forces things get distorted.
What gets lost in all of this is what people value. Money and markets are quite natural. There is nothing immoral or obscene about what I've stated. Violence and coercion have been a driving force in whats been going on for sometime now. Friends, this is how faux bubbles are created. Speaking about this doesn't mean I have the morality of coyote. It means that I'm honest.
We may decide to put various things/approaches over our most delicate eyes but what we are witnessing are the failed attempts of those in power to try to fix things and dare I say stimulate things in a magic/mythical sort of way.
Dear friends/brothers/disciples realize that this is pure mythology......things can never be manipulated in a magical way by those who claim to know better than us on our economy. It's bigger than the ivory tower (a protected haven for those who don't do anything)...and we now see that QE1, QE2, and QE3 are failed attempts....may we work towards non violence, a FREE market, and voluntaryism....this isn't cold....this is nature....this is peace, this is love.
be well, and sleep well...i'm very tanked. but very vindicated. Rise above dear friends. We haven't seen the worst yet.
Dust in the Wind / Day of Recollection
Dust in the Wind came on in the car today after my two slices of sicilian pizza for lunch. I hate that song but it brought up memories of our high school recollection day.
One day out of the school year we would partake in what they called "Recollection Day." This was an all guys catholic school and this was a day to reflect, individually and as a group, on who we were becoming as men, spiritually and academically. Usually the priest was involved along with two upper classmen who supposedly had their shit together by getting good grades and being well kempt and polite to everyone during school hours.
One year we had it at my old grade school, which was also catholic and run by the nuns. Looking back, I'm not sure anyone took these things seriously. I was polite and quiet, but painfully annoyed at what was to happen during this six hours of mental regrouping. Aside from the silliness of the incense prayers (I sat quietly), the singing, and prayer service, what really got me was that these upper class men were there to tell us about life's changes and be our pseudo gurus for the day leading unfruitful group activities. It was made up of stupid questions and ice-breakers, goal setting and everything hinged on being a good catholic citizen. The fact that is was being lead by spoiled rich kids made it all the more laughable.
So why did "Dust in the Wind" remind me of this?
The two guys (upper class men - they liked ranks and hierarchy there) running the event thought that the song, Dust in the Wind (a reminder of our mortality), and Styx's You're Fooling Yourself [(I think that's the name) an upbeat song to be sung to an angry young man to get it together], were both relevant to that day's event.
((God help me if I'm ever moved by anything Styx or Kansas has ever done and shame on them for choosing those tunes.))
During the lunch break, the kids played basketball in the old gym, I sat next to the priest and watched the kids play basketball and hated life for the next three hours, and the remainder of high school. The priest thought I was a weirdo and one of the guidance counselors thought I needed counseling. I thought the guidance counselor needed counseling.
These events are designed to build men with superb character who will be successful and make families (or more Catholic supporters). Deep inside my soul I may have understood it and maybe this was why I was so opposed to it.
((The word family nauseates as it implies commitment))
As weird as that priest was, he probably spotted that in me as I chose to drop out of the basketball game.
(can somebody write a better conclusion to this blog?)
One day out of the school year we would partake in what they called "Recollection Day." This was an all guys catholic school and this was a day to reflect, individually and as a group, on who we were becoming as men, spiritually and academically. Usually the priest was involved along with two upper classmen who supposedly had their shit together by getting good grades and being well kempt and polite to everyone during school hours.
One year we had it at my old grade school, which was also catholic and run by the nuns. Looking back, I'm not sure anyone took these things seriously. I was polite and quiet, but painfully annoyed at what was to happen during this six hours of mental regrouping. Aside from the silliness of the incense prayers (I sat quietly), the singing, and prayer service, what really got me was that these upper class men were there to tell us about life's changes and be our pseudo gurus for the day leading unfruitful group activities. It was made up of stupid questions and ice-breakers, goal setting and everything hinged on being a good catholic citizen. The fact that is was being lead by spoiled rich kids made it all the more laughable.
So why did "Dust in the Wind" remind me of this?
The two guys (upper class men - they liked ranks and hierarchy there) running the event thought that the song, Dust in the Wind (a reminder of our mortality), and Styx's You're Fooling Yourself [(I think that's the name) an upbeat song to be sung to an angry young man to get it together], were both relevant to that day's event.
((God help me if I'm ever moved by anything Styx or Kansas has ever done and shame on them for choosing those tunes.))
During the lunch break, the kids played basketball in the old gym, I sat next to the priest and watched the kids play basketball and hated life for the next three hours, and the remainder of high school. The priest thought I was a weirdo and one of the guidance counselors thought I needed counseling. I thought the guidance counselor needed counseling.
These events are designed to build men with superb character who will be successful and make families (or more Catholic supporters). Deep inside my soul I may have understood it and maybe this was why I was so opposed to it.
((The word family nauseates as it implies commitment))
As weird as that priest was, he probably spotted that in me as I chose to drop out of the basketball game.
(can somebody write a better conclusion to this blog?)
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