Election Night in A-MUR-ica. Smells like democracy at work. Yay!
What does that mean? Well right now it means the Rebublican party will take control of the House, the Democrats will probably have control of the Senate and I'm gonna be hungover as shit tommrow. See on election days I have a few traditions.
First comes is not voting, then baiting people to harrass me about my responsibility as an American to vote. Nothing makes me happier than someone lecturing me on civic responsibiliy. Call me crazy but I feel like I fufill my civic duty by defending the body politc at large, while those that love to lecture tend to not. Is this a jerk-ass thing to do? Yes, yes it is. Ask me if I give a fuck.
Then I sit around work and find out exactly why it is any given person identifies with their chosen politcal party. This is super-fun in the Army where no one understands anything other than Rebublicans=Yay Army, Democrats=Yay Black Presidents. (I swear this is really how it is.)
Last comes getting wasted and watching CNN while talking politics to other drunk people. As far as I've seen its just about the only way any of it matters is if you're an idealist or drunk. And the only way I can converse with the former is to be the latter.
So I always wake up the first Wednesday in November with a wicked hangover and a re-affirmed conviction that Pete Townshend is neck-and-neck with Tom Petty and Bob Dylan insofar as being a lyrical genius is concerned.
(For the record I am a registered voter in the Commonwealth of Virginia. I maintain the ability to vote, but choose not to.)
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Monday, November 1, 2010
He Also Enjoys Hitting People In The Face With Chairs
Today a co-worker said something along the lines of; what would you do if you had a boatload of money. As in after you bought a few cars and a big house and whatever. He said you'd be bored as fuck after a while. When people disagreed he asked them what they did over leave. He said we had 30 days off work and a few paychecks, and after two weeks at home or off work we were bored.
I laughed at him because I wasn't. Oh sure some afternoons around the house I did get kinda bored, but pretty soon Patty would come home or I'd go out and meet friends after work. But more so than that, when I had the time and the money I went to China. I took a bite out of life in a way that just doesn't occur to people like my coworker.
Guys and gals like him are just too practical I think. They just don't understand how you can just "go to China". And its not like he had a lot of other things to do. He has no kids, he's not in debt and he had the time off. Maybe he doesn't want to go to China (or wherever) but he also doesn't want anything like that. He wants to work 5 days a week and go party on the weekends He wants to drink some beers while watching a football game on Sundays. He wants to see his family at Christmas and sleep with his girlfriend every night.
I'm not saying there is anything wrong with any of those things. I want some of them too. But that's all he seems to want. He doesn't want to travel, he doesn't want to jump out of a plane or hunt boar with a sharp stick and a buck knife. He has no desire to go backpacking or hiking or camping in strange ass places. He doesn't want to read philosophy or see The Pillowman preformed on stage. He doesn't give a shit about those kind of things I suppose.
To me that's alien. I want everything, all the time. I want everything I said and more. I want a home and a girl to love. I want to have a purpose in life too. But I also want adventure. I want good adventure and bad adventure and funny adventure and scary adventure. I want to be an old man that you can tell has done just about everything and I won't mind at all if it shows. I'll take facial scars and leathery skin and bad knees down the road for to see and do the things I have seen and done. And the greatest thing about it is I'm just getting warmed up.
I laughed at him because I wasn't. Oh sure some afternoons around the house I did get kinda bored, but pretty soon Patty would come home or I'd go out and meet friends after work. But more so than that, when I had the time and the money I went to China. I took a bite out of life in a way that just doesn't occur to people like my coworker.
Guys and gals like him are just too practical I think. They just don't understand how you can just "go to China". And its not like he had a lot of other things to do. He has no kids, he's not in debt and he had the time off. Maybe he doesn't want to go to China (or wherever) but he also doesn't want anything like that. He wants to work 5 days a week and go party on the weekends He wants to drink some beers while watching a football game on Sundays. He wants to see his family at Christmas and sleep with his girlfriend every night.
I'm not saying there is anything wrong with any of those things. I want some of them too. But that's all he seems to want. He doesn't want to travel, he doesn't want to jump out of a plane or hunt boar with a sharp stick and a buck knife. He has no desire to go backpacking or hiking or camping in strange ass places. He doesn't want to read philosophy or see The Pillowman preformed on stage. He doesn't give a shit about those kind of things I suppose.
To me that's alien. I want everything, all the time. I want everything I said and more. I want a home and a girl to love. I want to have a purpose in life too. But I also want adventure. I want good adventure and bad adventure and funny adventure and scary adventure. I want to be an old man that you can tell has done just about everything and I won't mind at all if it shows. I'll take facial scars and leathery skin and bad knees down the road for to see and do the things I have seen and done. And the greatest thing about it is I'm just getting warmed up.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Its Bed Time Anyway
Another long weekend, another trip. Another day spent sitting in various airports. Another entrance into my empty room. Another Sunday night back in my own bed.
My own bed. Its mine, but its not. I haven't had a bed that I felt right in in a long time. My El Paso bed is too firm, my sheets too coarse, my single pillow too flat. The bed at Ralph and Karen's house has a down mattress pad that makes my legs hot and sweaty and the 30 pillows Karen has thoughtful stored there take up half the damn thing. My Iraq bed was just plain nasty as fuck and the bed in my old room was lost to my brother along with the room and half the shit in it.
In a way I've been homeless since I lost that last bed. I always have a bed, but never one that makes you feel how your bed should feel. I don't know exactly how to express it, but its a feeling I had once. I think everyone has it, or at least everyone who has a home, not-just-a-house type thing going on.
I've slept in other's beds and I could tell they felt it. In a few of those beds I felt it a little myself. Not just comfort, but safety and familiarity. Its like your bed is a loved one to some extent.
Maybe that's why letting someone sleep in your bed can sometimes be more awkward than fucking them; sex is sex, but having someone sleep in your bed is something else.
I am considering not posting this because honestly its shit writting. That is to say its worse than the usual shit. It sucks so bad because I'm failing at explaining the point in any meaningful way. I have a few coherent thoughts on what makes the bed I sleep in My bed verus the bed I sleep in, but I have a lot of feelings about it.
I know the feeling of having a bed and I know the feeling of not. I know how it feels to share a bed with someone you love like family and how it feels to share a bed with someone you love-love. And I know the weird feeling of sharing your bed with someone that you kinda feel shouldn't be sleeping in your bed (or you in theirs) no matter what the two of you just did in/on that bed.
I feel it, I just can't figure out how to say it.
My own bed. Its mine, but its not. I haven't had a bed that I felt right in in a long time. My El Paso bed is too firm, my sheets too coarse, my single pillow too flat. The bed at Ralph and Karen's house has a down mattress pad that makes my legs hot and sweaty and the 30 pillows Karen has thoughtful stored there take up half the damn thing. My Iraq bed was just plain nasty as fuck and the bed in my old room was lost to my brother along with the room and half the shit in it.
In a way I've been homeless since I lost that last bed. I always have a bed, but never one that makes you feel how your bed should feel. I don't know exactly how to express it, but its a feeling I had once. I think everyone has it, or at least everyone who has a home, not-just-a-house type thing going on.
I've slept in other's beds and I could tell they felt it. In a few of those beds I felt it a little myself. Not just comfort, but safety and familiarity. Its like your bed is a loved one to some extent.
Maybe that's why letting someone sleep in your bed can sometimes be more awkward than fucking them; sex is sex, but having someone sleep in your bed is something else.
I am considering not posting this because honestly its shit writting. That is to say its worse than the usual shit. It sucks so bad because I'm failing at explaining the point in any meaningful way. I have a few coherent thoughts on what makes the bed I sleep in My bed verus the bed I sleep in, but I have a lot of feelings about it.
I know the feeling of having a bed and I know the feeling of not. I know how it feels to share a bed with someone you love like family and how it feels to share a bed with someone you love-love. And I know the weird feeling of sharing your bed with someone that you kinda feel shouldn't be sleeping in your bed (or you in theirs) no matter what the two of you just did in/on that bed.
I feel it, I just can't figure out how to say it.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
5 Cigs
Sometimes I still get the shakes.
Sometimes I'm still spoiling for a fucking fight.
I just went out back to have a before bed smoke and I heard the POG ass motherfuckers who live next door shouting shit at one and other in their hick accents and all I wanted to do was go over there and punch one of them in the face. Fuck them. Fuck them.
I'm getting better. I smoke less and I fight less and I fuck more and drink a little less and I let more shit go then I used to. But I still hate them. I hate their asshole innocence.
I am getting a little better. I don't drink at all on Sunday and I don't get drunk on Monday and I limit myself to 5 beers on Tuesday. But its Wednesday and I'm drunk and I'm just spoiling for a fight.
Fuck them.
Sometimes I'm still spoiling for a fucking fight.
I just went out back to have a before bed smoke and I heard the POG ass motherfuckers who live next door shouting shit at one and other in their hick accents and all I wanted to do was go over there and punch one of them in the face. Fuck them. Fuck them.
I'm getting better. I smoke less and I fight less and I fuck more and drink a little less and I let more shit go then I used to. But I still hate them. I hate their asshole innocence.
I am getting a little better. I don't drink at all on Sunday and I don't get drunk on Monday and I limit myself to 5 beers on Tuesday. But its Wednesday and I'm drunk and I'm just spoiling for a fight.
Fuck them.
"Rosalita" Might Be The Best Song Ever Written
It's hard being a big brother. When you're little it means being the first one to fuck with your younger siblings and the first one to make sure no one else does. "No one fucks with _____ but me!" You get into a few fights for your brother and you beat him up a few times. Simple shit.
But as you get older it gets harder. You have to walk a fine line between teaching them not to make the same mistakes you made and blowing up their shit. Everyone has to be able to learn from other's fuck ups and be free to make their own mistakes at the same time.
Yet before you know it they're asking your advice. Someone wants your help figuring out their life when you just barely have a hold on your own. And honestly what advice can anyone give anyone else? I know me and my life. I know the shit I've been through. I know how I feel and how I think and that's just about it. The rest of it is a craps shoot.
So if you want my advice it boils down to this:
Go for it. Always, always al-fucking-ways go for it. Put 5 g's on Black. Raw-Dog it. Marry her. Take the last ride in. Play Russian Roulette. Eat spicy foods. Beer-bong 12oz of cheap warm vodka. Buy that plane ticket.
If its something you're gonna antagonize over, then go for it. I don't believe in any gods or post-mortem consciousness. If you ask me when we're done, we're done, then that's it; we're done. Sleep without the everlasting dreams and so forth. You got nothing to lose and anything to gain. GO FOR IT.
However;
should I be wrong then I see it this way:
I'll still have my memories. Send me to the highest cloud in heaven or the lowest cave in hell but I'll still be me. And I will always know the words to "Piano Man" and what that means to me. And I'll always know the panic of thinking you're about to be dead. And I'll always know the taste of a woman and how that makes me feel. And I'll always know the smell of Stella Artois in the spring and the feeling of being drunk in Europe. And I'll always know the bottomless feeling inside my belly when I fucked up real bad. And a million billion other little tiny bits of being alive.
If my 'soul' survives after I'm dead and gone then it's gonna have to know those feelings and a fucking trillion others. Otherwise it won't be my soul. And if it ain't my soul then who gives a fuck?
But as you get older it gets harder. You have to walk a fine line between teaching them not to make the same mistakes you made and blowing up their shit. Everyone has to be able to learn from other's fuck ups and be free to make their own mistakes at the same time.
Yet before you know it they're asking your advice. Someone wants your help figuring out their life when you just barely have a hold on your own. And honestly what advice can anyone give anyone else? I know me and my life. I know the shit I've been through. I know how I feel and how I think and that's just about it. The rest of it is a craps shoot.
So if you want my advice it boils down to this:
Go for it. Always, always al-fucking-ways go for it. Put 5 g's on Black. Raw-Dog it. Marry her. Take the last ride in. Play Russian Roulette. Eat spicy foods. Beer-bong 12oz of cheap warm vodka. Buy that plane ticket.
If its something you're gonna antagonize over, then go for it. I don't believe in any gods or post-mortem consciousness. If you ask me when we're done, we're done, then that's it; we're done. Sleep without the everlasting dreams and so forth. You got nothing to lose and anything to gain. GO FOR IT.
However;
should I be wrong then I see it this way:
I'll still have my memories. Send me to the highest cloud in heaven or the lowest cave in hell but I'll still be me. And I will always know the words to "Piano Man" and what that means to me. And I'll always know the panic of thinking you're about to be dead. And I'll always know the taste of a woman and how that makes me feel. And I'll always know the smell of Stella Artois in the spring and the feeling of being drunk in Europe. And I'll always know the bottomless feeling inside my belly when I fucked up real bad. And a million billion other little tiny bits of being alive.
If my 'soul' survives after I'm dead and gone then it's gonna have to know those feelings and a fucking trillion others. Otherwise it won't be my soul. And if it ain't my soul then who gives a fuck?
Monday, October 25, 2010
In Through The Nose, Out Through The Mouth
I bought my plane ticket for Friday this afternoon. Cost me a bit of dough, but I think it'll be worth it. I'm heading home to attened the Jon Stewart/Steven Colbert Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear on the 30th.
I have to say from the moment I heard about it I was in. I mean how can you not be? If there's one thing this country needs right now its more sanity. I think a ton of people out there just need to step back and take a deep breathe. Sure I know things are kinda tough right now, but that doesn't mean America is falling apart or China's about to be a superpower or the End Times are around the corner.
Everybody just needs to chill out a little and step back in from off the ledge. Gather some friends or family and sit on a porch somewhere. Go fishing or hiking or to a football game. Have a beer or some cider and just enjoy the day.
Trust me, it helps.
I have to say from the moment I heard about it I was in. I mean how can you not be? If there's one thing this country needs right now its more sanity. I think a ton of people out there just need to step back and take a deep breathe. Sure I know things are kinda tough right now, but that doesn't mean America is falling apart or China's about to be a superpower or the End Times are around the corner.
Everybody just needs to chill out a little and step back in from off the ledge. Gather some friends or family and sit on a porch somewhere. Go fishing or hiking or to a football game. Have a beer or some cider and just enjoy the day.
Trust me, it helps.
Friday, October 22, 2010
For The Record I'm Not Going To Go On A Shooting Spree
Dear Shippensburg University,
Please stop fucking with me and send my god damn transcripts. This shit is insane. Why would you put a hold on my account, when I haven't attended Ship in almost four years? And what the fuck is the hold for? You sent my transcripts to NOVA back in '07 without any fucking hassle. So what the hell have I done since then to warrent this?
I mean honestly the only thing that comes to mind is when I ran around naked at the Fall Classic in '08. But it was like 2am and I knew everyone.
For whatever reason this absurdity persists I want, I need it to stop. Because if you don't send my transcripts then I don't get in to college for the Spring semester. And if I don't get into college for the Spring semester then I don't get out of the Army in January. And if I don't get out of the Army in January then I stay until May. And if I stay until May I may lose my fucking mind. And losing one's mind is bad, but its worse when one has access to automatic weapons and ungodly amounts of NATO 5.56mm link.
Love,
M. Nappi
Please stop fucking with me and send my god damn transcripts. This shit is insane. Why would you put a hold on my account, when I haven't attended Ship in almost four years? And what the fuck is the hold for? You sent my transcripts to NOVA back in '07 without any fucking hassle. So what the hell have I done since then to warrent this?
I mean honestly the only thing that comes to mind is when I ran around naked at the Fall Classic in '08. But it was like 2am and I knew everyone.
For whatever reason this absurdity persists I want, I need it to stop. Because if you don't send my transcripts then I don't get in to college for the Spring semester. And if I don't get into college for the Spring semester then I don't get out of the Army in January. And if I don't get out of the Army in January then I stay until May. And if I stay until May I may lose my fucking mind. And losing one's mind is bad, but its worse when one has access to automatic weapons and ungodly amounts of NATO 5.56mm link.
Love,
M. Nappi
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