Suck Out All The Marrow Of Life=Party Like Its 1845

This time tomorrow I'll be on a plane. Or maybe I'll be sitting in an airport on one of the 3 stops I have to make over my 12 hour journey to get home. Point is I will be on my way.

I haven't mentioned it because I haven't really been thinking about it. I've just been so busy these past few weeks, and honestly these past few months, I haven't had too much time to think about home in a concrete sense.

But I just talked to Digger and Action Hero who are drinking in Arlington with TP. Action Hero is heading to Europe tomorrow, but Digger has stated his intention of coming to DC and getting smigity with me. This makes me happy. Just a kind of elevation of the soul that helps in the same way as a drink itself or a fond memory.

I cannot recall which philopher said it, but he maintained that the only pure happiness is expectation. That no matter how wonderful and good and happy you are in any given situation the expectation of it was always more pure. I recall debating this one time, affirming the concept. I don't know if I believe it or not honestly. Right now just the idea of the possibility of the fun to be had on the 4th of July is so pure and pleasurable.

It's like sex I suppose. The climax is short but downright powerful. Whereas the build-up (in any of its forms) last so much longer, but by its nature fails to acheive the intesity of the climax.

So which is better? Or is it that one isn't better than the other? Maybe they must be taken together to achieve a completely full experience (Pertaining to both sex specificly and a fun experence in general.)

In any case I am once again gifted with 4 days in VA.

Considering

Alright, the time has come for me to attempt to address something that has been scratching around in my head for some time.

Am I crazy?

Are the things I do not normal? Are the words I say strange? Are my thoughts things that other people don't ever have?
Sometimes I think they are, sometimes I think everyone feels the way I do.

On an unrelated note, The Patriot is on TV and I have to get something out. I think those old school dresses are fucking outstanding. They are classy and make female's breasts look huge. Tell me, are there two better things in this world?

My Liver Hurts.

Have you ever had the terrible realization that you could kick you hero's ass?
It sucks. I only mention it because I thought of the Tom Robbins syndrome today and as of this writting when I take a sharp breathe my inside hurts

To Clairify; When I Say "Mourn" I Mean He's My Excuse For Getting Shitty Tonight

MJ's dead.

Now calm the fuck down kids, I'm not like totally broken up about it. I never knew the guy, never saw him perform, never even was around for his hey-day. But I remember his trial and when he sold Wonderland. I remember when I was a little kid and I saw Free Willy which he had like the title track from. I loved that fucking song and when I told Karen that Michael Jackson was my favorite singer she told me that he was creepy. She did admit that he was a good singer, but also really creepy. Obviously she was right.

I suppose its just the fact that Michael Jackson was, for lack of a better word, a constant. He could always be counted on to do something that we found newsworthy. Be it making Gold Records, molesting children, being tried for molesting children, buying the rights to Beatles songs, holding his own children over balconies, or selling his child-molesting playground and declaring bankruptcy, MJ was always there. His life provided a wonderful counter-current to our own. And he did it with such ups and downs that we couldn't look away.
And extending from that time in the Green Monster in the parking lot of Tyson's when I told Karen I liked Michael Jackson because of that song from fucking Free Willy until literally right now his life has ran parallel to my own. MJ did his thing and I did mine, and every so often someone on TV or radio would let me know what was new in his life. Maybe I'm fucking insane (I get told it enough to where it might be true...) but Michael Jackson was a comfort to me. And that is why I mourn his death.

Sorry I've Been So Depressing Lately

Happiness should be a commodity. We should trade it like stock & bonds. Or at least like shit on the futures market. You know, the place where they yell shit like PORK BELLIES all the time.
Is there something wrong with the idea that I like puppies and I drink straight bourbon? Does it not make sense that I want to rip out a man's windpipe with my teeth but I have the song "Mmmbop" by Hanson on my iPod? Is it possible to be a degenerate drunk and a child's role model at the same time? Can a man burn with terrible rage inside but still want a hug?
Welcome to my soul...

Who The FUCK Is "They" Anyway?

They say before you buy it you ask for three things: your mother, god, and forgiveness.
I've heard that from Iraq vets, Vietnam vets and a World War II vet. They said it wasn't everybody, but just about. They said that it happens while you bleed out, or after your lungs deflate and you're gasping for breathe but none comes that you cry out for Mom and god and forgiveness.

Not me. Call it pride or hubris or ignorance or whatever the fuck you want to I don't give a fuck. I won't say shit when I buy it. Sure I love my life, and sure I'ma be sad when its gone. But I don't believe in god and as much as I love my mother the last thing I would want is her near me when I die. As for forgiveness... well I've done some bad things and I've hurt some people and I'm sorry for that. And I suppose that if anyone I feel I've wronged is around I should tell them I'm sorry if I feel that way.

But I have already lived a decently full life I suppose. I've loved and I've lost, I've been punched in the face and I've felt the indescribable feeling of my own hand crashing into another man's jaw. I've been camping in the woods and I've seen the sunrise in the desert with no living man within earshot. I've had vag juice all over my face on the way to Christian Work Camp and I've partaken in the sacrament of Confession. I 've seen the Green Flash over the edge of the world and I've been to Europe. I've stood in a Cathedral and pondered over the meaning of life. I've sat by fast-moving streams and one time (when I was young) I jacked off into one. I've been arrested and I've been a felon. I've been stabbed and I've stabbed. And there are still many many things under this sun I don't know the slightest thing about.

But if I'm gone tomorrow know that I had fun today.

There Will Be Blood...

I remember playing Foosball in College Park 36. The 'Goats were all there. I recall very clearly that when you played on the side nearest the doorway you put your beer on the corner of the table against the wall. And I remember that I was also so paranoid that when the table shook my beer would fall. Why spilling my beer worried me so much I will never know. I mean I puked on the keg my first time in 36, so a spilled beer wouldn't have been a huge embarrassment.

I remember running around the deck at CH with a wet umbrella poll during a thunderstorm. I was temping fate in the most outrageous, boisterous way. Lighting is, after all, pure energy. It makes no choices, it follows the natural laws that say it will ground itself wherever convenient. Nature wouldn't have minded that the most convenient place was my body holding a 4 foot metal rod. And at the time I wouldn't have either. I wasn't suicidal, I just felt the need to shove Fate a little. To show myself and the universe that I was not the kind of guy who could be pushed around.

Sometimes I just like to write things I remember. I'm afraid I'll forget them. I'm not super-macho or anything but I am not afraid of much. But I am terrified of forgetting the experiences that have made me who I am. Everything I have ever done is part of me and I do not want to take for granted or forget those experiences.

Word on the street lately is when my Brigade goes over in the fall we will be replacing 3 brigades. If you don't understand that I'll make it simple. 3,500 troops (my brigade) will be responsible for the real estate that 11,000 troops (the 3 brigades we are replacing) used to hold. We're gonna be spread thin and despite what CNN and the newspaper says Iraq is not a done deal. The President's withdraw plan has as much chance of succeeding as the ill-fated three-some I was nearly a part of. (That I do not want to talk about.) I hope I'm wrong, but odds are we're going to get ate the fuck up. And I'd hate all my wonderful memories to die with me.

I'ma Need New Shoes

So I've started running again. I suppose I haven't stopped running since I joined the Army because our PT is mostly running, but I don't really count that. If you are/were a runner you understand what I mean. Think about everything you love/loved about running; PT is the opposite. I have to stay in formation, I don't set the pace, I have turn around for the fall-outs, people talk shit to the fall-outs, talking is not allowed, there are no girls and I don't set the route.

To put everything simply for any non-runners out there; running= freedom, pure and simple.
PT running= tyranny & oppression.

Now we're clear, I haven't been running much since... well since I left Ship. I didn't run a ton over the summer after, I didn't have time to run when I was at NoVa, and then I was in Basic. Since I've been here I haven't. I say I'm too tired, and I have to admit I don't have the time or energy I used to, but those are just excuses.

The only thing I can't get past is the terrain here is terrible. Today when I was out I almost choked when I ran through a sandstorm. There is nothing out there but dust, and nothing to look at. And there are people. I don't like to run in busy places where I see people, I don't like to run in public or on main roads. Just isn't my style I suppose. And what's worse half the people I see are higher ranking, and even if I'm out of uniform I can be caught up for something.

In any event I am a happier man when I've been running, not to mention I don't feel bad about drinking as much when I work for it.

Doomed?

Does a relationship have to last until death to be considered successful? Does a break-up equal failure? Why do we look at romantic (or possibly platonic) relationships like this? Who set that standard?

If two people enjoy their time together, even for only a short while, does their separation define the entire history of the relationship? Are all the good times wiped out by the pain of the break up?

Can't we look at each experience in love not just as failures building up to something greater, but as great experiences that are worthy of our remembrance and consideration based upon their own merit?

Yet Another Reason Soldiers Marry Strippers...

Have you ever listened to OutKast's song Hey Ya? I'm sure you've heard it it; otherwise you spent 2003 under a rock with earplugs in. But I mean have you ever truly listened to it?
The upbeat rhythm and the hook (which is more contagious than syphilis) belittle the meaning behind the lyrics.
The words in the song very explicitly tell a story of a protagonist who feels insecure about his current relationship. CORRECTION: He is secure in his relationship to the end that he knows his woman is not cheating on him, but he feels her lack of infidelity is not for lack of desire, but merely a fear of destroying the comfortable relationship that has become the status quo.
As the song progresses our protagonist searches in vain to understand why two people stay together when they clearly are not happy with one another.
The best answer I can think of is that most people would rather be unhappy with someone else than be solely responsible for their own happiness.

How terribly depressing...

Wolverines or Mahdi Militia?

For what follows it is best understood if you have seen the film Red Dawn.
If you haven't had the privilege of this film I recommend it. Basically its the mid-Eighties, Patrick Swayze, Jennifer Grey, Charlie Sheen and the kid from E.T. are teenagers who start an insurgent resistance against the invading Russians in the mountains of Colorado after the start of World War III.
The film is violent and dark, but also awesome. It has the appeal that is analogous to that of the Zombie Apocalypse; everything in your life turns upside down and you get a chance to be a hero.

While discussing that film (which I have always loved) this morning I came to a startling realization: I'm one of the invading Russians. The men and women I will soon be fighting are the scrappy insurgency of young people whose lives were turned upside-fucking-down by a superior military power invading.

In the first scene of the film Russian paratroopers land on the school football field and when a teacher goes to see what is happening they shoot him down in cold blood. They then shoot up the school and kill some students.
While discussing that scene this morning I realized that in real life they would not have done that. I mean most soldiers of nations, be they Communist, Capitalist, Nazi, Ultra-Nationalist or whatever are not murderers. To any soldier I have met our job is just that; a job. Sure we believe in what we do, but no one thinks its ok to kill unarmed, non-threatening old men or children. Sometimes accidents happen, things get mistook and shit gets out of hand, but soldiers do not take pleasure in massacring civilians.

Yet in the film the soldiers do that, mostly to show that they are 'EVIL' and justifying beyond reproach what the protagonists do in retaliation. The retaliation takes the form of hit-and-run attacks, roadside bombs, rocket and mortar attacks, raids and assassinations on/of high-value targets. Sound familiar? That is because Hajji does it to us.

Now I'm not some ignorant prick; we haven't only killed Bad Guys. We make mistakes, civilians die, bad soldiers rape and murder, our government tortures. And looking through the eyes of a young Iraqi would someone saying sorry or telling you you're now 'free' help the pain of loosing your friends and family? Accident or not if someone killed anyone I care about I would do my best to see them dead. So how can I blame Hajji for wanting me dead? He's just doing what anyone with a sense of honor and balls would do I guess.

I'm not saying that I understand religious extremism, or flying planes full of innocents into buildings, or whatever. But I do understand how that maybe when we hurt Hajji and he feels the need to fight us, and someone else is standing there with a Koran in one hand and a vest full of C4 in the other Hajji might not give a damn about the particulars; he just wants to make someone else hurt too.

I hope I'm making sense, because until know I didn't have a lot of respect for the enemy. I lumped everyone who wanted me dead into one category. That category being people who stone women for adultery, fly planes into buildings and bomb embassies, people who hate secular education and music, and are not only willing to kill themselves for their beliefs, but everyone else too. Now I think maybe the guy who plants IED's is just mad at me for dropping a bomb on his girlfriend and kicking in his front door. He doesn't care about Sharia law or being a martyr. He liked Arabic pop music and soccer, he was all about pre-marital sex and Baywatch. But now we hurt him so he's gonna hurt us.

So through Red Dawn I now have some respect for some of my enemies. Never would have guessed that, would you?

Whose Sex Is On Fire?

Ok this might be a little weird, but here it goes anyway:
Sometimes when I'm watching TV or out in a public place or whatever I wonder what people's faces look like when they have sex.
I mean this sounds sorta creepy I think, but I dunno... It's not like I'm trying to get my rocks off when I think about it; half the time they aren't really attractive or anything, just normal people.
I also see a family and I think like the mother and father had to have sex to make that kid. Those two people fucked at least as many times as they have kids.
Maybe this makes me sound obsessed with sex, but think about yourself before you throw stones. Who among us doesn't like sex? Who doesn't want to have some sex right now? Ok maybe you don't want to get it on this second, but you know you wouldn't mind some in the next hour.
Sex is a fairly personal thing with most people, and maybe that is why I wonder about strangers doing it. Like if you asked them about it they'd freak the fuck out, but you still know they do it without knowing anything about them.
Sorry, I just felt like writing that.