This may be too pompous, even for me. If people really wanted to read my past posts, some of which are fantastic, they could go in the archives of Honea Express and A2Z, respectively, and do so.
I think I'm going to utilize this space in yet another new way. Give me a few days.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Monday, September 25, 2006
The 1st of Many Work Rants
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
Dining Out: Don't Be a Jackass
As some of you may know I am a bartender by trade, or choice, or fate. Whatever. I tend bar even though I am qualified for much more important, yet lesser paying, jobs. Go figure. Last night, as you know, was Valentine's Day, which means that our establishment was on an hour and 45 minute wait. Which means that many people came to sit in the bar where we have a full menu and open seating. People came and sat at tables without ordering anything because they were waiting for a table in the restaurant. Big deal? Yes. Those people sat at my tables for over half an hour. That is money out of my pocket. People came and stood behind other guests to wait for their table. I can't think of many things ruder than that. Oh wait, I can. 'Guests' pushed each other, and the servers, so as to arrange themselves accordingly to hover over said tables. Then they got mad because we were so busy and the food took a little longer, so they cursed, they threw food, they yelled at servers (not just their own, as if that would be ok). Then they paid with coupons. Then they didn't tip. I tell you, I am about one jackass away from losing my job in a blaze of glory. The hard part is restraining myself while waiting for that special someone that is going to get my foot in their ass. Really people, it's Valentine's Day, I get it, your getting laid may hinge upon a nice night out. A good meal and some smooth talk may save you from a week of nagging. I get it. The thing is, the company that I work for, which I probably shouldn't name so let's just call it "Pepper's", is not romantic or fancy enough to even be considered for Valentine's Day. The best wine we have is Kendell Jackson! You would be better off smashing grapes with your own feet. Anyplace with TV's showing poker, speakers blaring 38 Special, and that honors coupons (AND YOU USE THEM!!) on Valentine's Day is not romantic enough to meet any criteria. The only reason you should be walking into a place like ours on VD is if you are a) in high school, b) on house arrest and you live within a block, c) you are single, d) you are clueless. We are a great restaurant, don't get me wrong, the food is awesome, the atmosphere is friendly and comfortable, but we are not 'Chez' anything, and if we get you laid you may want to aim a little higher on your companion choices. After the sex of course. In the meantime, I can't wait for Mother's Day, the other busiest day of the year, when the class acts are out on furlough and bring Momma in for some eats and some cursin'.
Dining Out: Don't Be a Jackass
As some of you may know I am a bartender by trade, or choice, or fate. Whatever. I tend bar even though I am qualified for much more important, yet lesser paying, jobs. Go figure. Last night, as you know, was Valentine's Day, which means that our establishment was on an hour and 45 minute wait. Which means that many people came to sit in the bar where we have a full menu and open seating. People came and sat at tables without ordering anything because they were waiting for a table in the restaurant. Big deal? Yes. Those people sat at my tables for over half an hour. That is money out of my pocket. People came and stood behind other guests to wait for their table. I can't think of many things ruder than that. Oh wait, I can. 'Guests' pushed each other, and the servers, so as to arrange themselves accordingly to hover over said tables. Then they got mad because we were so busy and the food took a little longer, so they cursed, they threw food, they yelled at servers (not just their own, as if that would be ok). Then they paid with coupons. Then they didn't tip. I tell you, I am about one jackass away from losing my job in a blaze of glory. The hard part is restraining myself while waiting for that special someone that is going to get my foot in their ass. Really people, it's Valentine's Day, I get it, your getting laid may hinge upon a nice night out. A good meal and some smooth talk may save you from a week of nagging. I get it. The thing is, the company that I work for, which I probably shouldn't name so let's just call it "Pepper's", is not romantic or fancy enough to even be considered for Valentine's Day. The best wine we have is Kendell Jackson! You would be better off smashing grapes with your own feet. Anyplace with TV's showing poker, speakers blaring 38 Special, and that honors coupons (AND YOU USE THEM!!) on Valentine's Day is not romantic enough to meet any criteria. The only reason you should be walking into a place like ours on VD is if you are a) in high school, b) on house arrest and you live within a block, c) you are single, d) you are clueless. We are a great restaurant, don't get me wrong, the food is awesome, the atmosphere is friendly and comfortable, but we are not 'Chez' anything, and if we get you laid you may want to aim a little higher on your companion choices. After the sex of course. In the meantime, I can't wait for Mother's Day, the other busiest day of the year, when the class acts are out on furlough and bring Momma in for some eats and some cursin'.
Friday, September 22, 2006
Even Greatest Hits Have Some Down-time
Well, if I'm going to start a collection of my favorite posts from all of the blogs I own or write for, I may as well start at the beginning. I started blogging on February 2, 2005, and this post is from day two. It's not a gem, but it's a start.
Still Crazy After All These Years
Thank you Paul Simon for such insight. I often find myself doing things that are not in my best interest because at the time they are at least interesting. A few pints after work and suddenly I'm crawling into bed at 2am on a Tuesday. It's fun, it's stupid, it's inappropriate- perhaps, but man, is it needed. Whatever this life throws at you, no matter how far down the "you" falls on your priority list, you still have to make time to relax, be crazy or whatever it is that made you 'you' to begin with.
Hence me typing this on a belly full of coffee and Guinness with the whispering shades of a headache softly reminding me that I really am old, regardless of my untucked shirt and MP3 collection. Perhaps I am a fool*, but I can't imagine it any other way.
Speaking of fools, what is up with the dumbing of America**? My whole life, spent in Tucson, Seattle, San Diego and now an hour outside of LA, I have ordered beer by the pint. Bars have had 2 dollar pint night. Pint, pint, pint. Recently I have gone to two different bars, one a trendy sportsbar, the other a supposed British pub where neither bartender has known what a pint was. Really? It's that freaking 16 ounce glass in your hand!
-Hey, how many miles to the closest gas station?
-What's a mile?
It's that stupid. Therefore I am including the following quotes on fools:
*There are more fools in the world than there are people. -- Heinrich Heine
Wise men talk because they have something to say, fools because they have to say something. -- Plato
The trouble isn't that there are too many fools, but that the lightning isn't distributed right. -- Mark Twain
Anger dwells only in the bosom of fools. -- Albert Einstein
We must learn to live together as brothers or perish together as fools. -- Martin Luther King, Jr
An intelligent man is sometimes forced to be drunk to spend time with his fools. -- Ernest Hemingway
I have great faith in fools -- self confidence my friends call it. -- Edgar Allan Poe
**Get all the fools on your side and you can be elected to anything. -- Frank Dane (see dumbing of America)
Thank you Paul Simon for such insight. I often find myself doing things that are not in my best interest because at the time they are at least interesting. A few pints after work and suddenly I'm crawling into bed at 2am on a Tuesday. It's fun, it's stupid, it's inappropriate- perhaps, but man, is it needed. Whatever this life throws at you, no matter how far down the "you" falls on your priority list, you still have to make time to relax, be crazy or whatever it is that made you 'you' to begin with.
Hence me typing this on a belly full of coffee and Guinness with the whispering shades of a headache softly reminding me that I really am old, regardless of my untucked shirt and MP3 collection. Perhaps I am a fool*, but I can't imagine it any other way.
Speaking of fools, what is up with the dumbing of America**? My whole life, spent in Tucson, Seattle, San Diego and now an hour outside of LA, I have ordered beer by the pint. Bars have had 2 dollar pint night. Pint, pint, pint. Recently I have gone to two different bars, one a trendy sportsbar, the other a supposed British pub where neither bartender has known what a pint was. Really? It's that freaking 16 ounce glass in your hand!
-Hey, how many miles to the closest gas station?
-What's a mile?
It's that stupid. Therefore I am including the following quotes on fools:
*There are more fools in the world than there are people. -- Heinrich Heine
Wise men talk because they have something to say, fools because they have to say something. -- Plato
The trouble isn't that there are too many fools, but that the lightning isn't distributed right. -- Mark Twain
Anger dwells only in the bosom of fools. -- Albert Einstein
We must learn to live together as brothers or perish together as fools. -- Martin Luther King, Jr
An intelligent man is sometimes forced to be drunk to spend time with his fools. -- Ernest Hemingway
I have great faith in fools -- self confidence my friends call it. -- Edgar Allan Poe
**Get all the fools on your side and you can be elected to anything. -- Frank Dane (see dumbing of America)
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Remember Me?
Greetings Anthony (& anyone else that accidentally wound up here) to "the blog that we don't mention".
I've been bad. I haven't been writing at all of late. I've been watching movies and wishing I was in them and watching SNL ( watch the digital shorts on Natalie Portman and Lazy Sunday) and wishing I was funny. I've been drinking beer and wishing it didn't hurt my head and listening to Jack Johnson and wishing, and sitting and waiting (song reference).
I do have the corrected version of my story coming out soon from India. The previous addition sits in my office still wrapped in the cardboard packaging it arrived in, covered in airmail stamps and "Air Mail" stickers. I can't bring myself to part with the shell even though the gooey goodness is hidden on the inside.
A friend of mine, (I think I can call him a friend despite never having met and only talking through email and blogs for a year or so) Dave King, gave me a lead on a literary agent in New York which I promptly contacted with unprofessional vigor and obvious disregard for protocol. Needless to say I haven't heard back. What I sent him was crap. I was afraid of losing my "Dave King mentioned you to me" window.
So basically I haven't posted here because I haven't been writing. I'll work on that.
I've been bad. I haven't been writing at all of late. I've been watching movies and wishing I was in them and watching SNL ( watch the digital shorts on Natalie Portman and Lazy Sunday) and wishing I was funny. I've been drinking beer and wishing it didn't hurt my head and listening to Jack Johnson and wishing, and sitting and waiting (song reference).
I do have the corrected version of my story coming out soon from India. The previous addition sits in my office still wrapped in the cardboard packaging it arrived in, covered in airmail stamps and "Air Mail" stickers. I can't bring myself to part with the shell even though the gooey goodness is hidden on the inside.
A friend of mine, (I think I can call him a friend despite never having met and only talking through email and blogs for a year or so) Dave King, gave me a lead on a literary agent in New York which I promptly contacted with unprofessional vigor and obvious disregard for protocol. Needless to say I haven't heard back. What I sent him was crap. I was afraid of losing my "Dave King mentioned you to me" window.
So basically I haven't posted here because I haven't been writing. I'll work on that.
Monday, February 20, 2006
Something I've Noticed
I lost control again. For no reason really. I have anger and issues like everyone. I’m full of shit and sweet as cotton candy. I compromise myself to the will of the wind. It pushes me and I lose control.
If ever there was a place for me than perhaps this is it. Los Angeles is an island floating on a sea of hopelessness and breast implants. We are a confused and fucked up bunch, those of us that call the island home. We are the greatest people in the world and every last one of us is an idiot.
I’m drinking a glass of wine that cost more than my shoes and chasing each sip with a handful of Pringles that set me back about a buck for the whole can. I like to even myself out. Tomorrow I’ll go barefoot and drink crappy beer with my prime rib. That’s how we keep it real here in the land of make believe.
It’s all a movie. Sure there are the obvious, the rich and beautiful, but even the ugly and poor are faking it. Gangs shoot babies in Compton because it’s hardcore and everything else they saw on HBO. Girls ride busses from Minnesota just to suck a few dicks before being sent home with their tails between there legs and sores on their lips. It is a melting pot and it boils over.
My issues with control could probably be traced back to my childhood. Perhaps I wasn’t hugged as a kid. Maybe I was hugged too much. Either way it doesn’t matter. My issues could be traced back but I won’t follow them. That whole line of thinking is for the weak and the lost, like all things religion it gives them hope and frees them from taking blame for themselves. They run this damn island.
Unlike most of the other inmates, I moved here against my will. I have never desired to live in L.A., and if not for Disneyland would probably have never visited California at all. Yet, here I am, serving a life term for crimes I’ve yet to commit. There are plenty of others that are here by choice and breaking laws by the second. I play the ying to their yang. I did not vote for them.
If ever there was a place for me than perhaps this is it. Los Angeles is an island floating on a sea of hopelessness and breast implants. We are a confused and fucked up bunch, those of us that call the island home. We are the greatest people in the world and every last one of us is an idiot.
I’m drinking a glass of wine that cost more than my shoes and chasing each sip with a handful of Pringles that set me back about a buck for the whole can. I like to even myself out. Tomorrow I’ll go barefoot and drink crappy beer with my prime rib. That’s how we keep it real here in the land of make believe.
It’s all a movie. Sure there are the obvious, the rich and beautiful, but even the ugly and poor are faking it. Gangs shoot babies in Compton because it’s hardcore and everything else they saw on HBO. Girls ride busses from Minnesota just to suck a few dicks before being sent home with their tails between there legs and sores on their lips. It is a melting pot and it boils over.
My issues with control could probably be traced back to my childhood. Perhaps I wasn’t hugged as a kid. Maybe I was hugged too much. Either way it doesn’t matter. My issues could be traced back but I won’t follow them. That whole line of thinking is for the weak and the lost, like all things religion it gives them hope and frees them from taking blame for themselves. They run this damn island.
Unlike most of the other inmates, I moved here against my will. I have never desired to live in L.A., and if not for Disneyland would probably have never visited California at all. Yet, here I am, serving a life term for crimes I’ve yet to commit. There are plenty of others that are here by choice and breaking laws by the second. I play the ying to their yang. I did not vote for them.
Friday, January 20, 2006
The Stop Light Writings II
Silent somber shuffles
of a forgotten box-step
restless as leavesfloating obliviously
over bared souls
and buried secrets-
some birds fly
south for the winter
and some forget
how to come home.
In the next song
I will dip you
if you promise
to think of me.
Friday, January 06, 2006
Good News from India
To update the previous post- I have spoken with the editor of the Taj Mahal Review, and Jazz will appear in its entirety in the June issue. This means that I will grace those pages two issues in a row, much to the chagrin of literary lovers everywhere.
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