Is What You Believe Worth Fighting For? By Spacedog

There are times in everyone’s life where they do not try hard enough or persist or do what is right in their heart.

They simply follow the crowd. They ignore the causes that are near and dear to their hearts. They ignore their friends because well that person may not be as liked or as popular as they so wish them to be.

However there is one constant with all of these things. You see people come and people go. When you take away all those people and all the material rubbish you are surrounded with, all you are left with is you. Nothing more, nothing less. And no matter who you are or how flawed you may be or what masks you wear to the world, well you know what it is that you believe.

“Reputation is for time; character is for eternity.” -J.B Gough

It just really saddens me to see how we as a people don’t fight constantly enough. For our world’s belief (belief as a whole), for our friend’s beliefs, for our core beliefs. What a sham(e).

Belief on the Whole

When the whole of something deteroriates all we are left we is parts that are somewhat combined and somewhat fragment.

Thankfully most of us voted in this election. The majority spoke when it came to the presidency. However one of the things that makes me most proud is that despite the unfortunate ruling in California people are peacefully protesting Prop 8. They are not bombing abortion clinics or looting stores, they just want to be heard.

Keith Olbermann. Whether you agree with him or not this man has a lot of passion and the kind of fight that more of us need. We all need to express and not repress and listen to each other. Well I let him say the rest:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cVUecPhQPqY

Frankly for his belief and his expressions well that helps the world on the whole. If not helping the current vote or current situation it maybe helps move people in the future. It’s not about shifting the view of one or two or three, it’s about a shift in the generations to come. If generations didn’t progress forth from their predecessors well then we wouldn’t have a black president now, would we?

Belief of Friends

Obviously none of us believes everything another individual says. Friend or foe, husband or ex-boyfriend, wife or mistress we all have disagreements and similarities. The thing that we must remember is that WE chose to have this people as our friends. We are not forced. This is not an arranged marriage (sorry for those of you that it is).

Once upon a time, one of my really great friends in life had a great mutual respect for me and I for him. Yes, he was overprivledged and yes he was over the top a good deal of the time but I believed in him as a person, as a friend. I stood up for him many a time. I will admit on occasion this wasn’t the “popular” move. I even lost touch with a few acquaintance type friends because of this. Still I believed in his inner goodness.

Not everyone sees this good in other people. Everyone has good in them. People usually only put emphasis on the bad. It’s a sad fault but that is life. I saw the good and it caused me to perish in ways but sadly not everyone in life can accept your choices and not everyone can be your friend.

“If it harm none, do as ye will.”

Also in the same aspect if we agree with our friends and they get persecuted for it we need to stand up as well. And vice versa.

If they don’t believe in going home with someone from the bar, I need to tell that other person to back off when they get too agressive and my friend can’t do it himself.

If they didn’t do drugs and I was I wouldn’t glorify it and push it down their throats.

It’s all about respecting one another and standing up for what you ascertain to be true.

Yes, we are not perfect. I am guility of not fighting at times when I should have but am getting much better at this through the years. Yeah my depression gets in the way at times, but if I ever had to be there for my one of my true friends I would. My situation, financially, emotionally or spiritually, would not effect this. I have done some pretty stupid things to try and protect the people I love but I would do them all over again.

Belief of Our Core

Perhaps the most important set of beliefs that we have are the ones that lie at our core. When the day is done and the lights are out at night, all you have is you. You are the only person whose own beliefs you can control. You must stand up for them at all costs.

Call them morals, call them creeds, call them principals, call them what you will. They are all uniquely ours. Some people live by more beliefs on a consistent basis and others fly by the seat of their pants. Without these beliefs, there is but a shell of a person, a body without a soul, a face without a name.

As I stated before we are not perfect. I believe in love, but that does not mean I haven’t ever had sex with a stranger. I believe in respecting others, but I’ve definitely been an asshole my fair share of times. I am not going to list all my beliefs one by one since I know what they are and hold them close to me and they affect the way I lead my daily life.

People can be very devious creatures. They find out you believe in love; they try and pull you around by a string. They find out you are generous; they blatently take advantage of this. They find out you are honest; they lie their teeth off. Opposites do attract and at times this can be tumultuous.

In a room crowded full of people acting completely fake to one another, would you be fake as well?

“Many a man’s reputation would not know his character if they met on the street. ” -Elbert Hubbard

How very true. You see what we portray to the world is not necessarily who we are. If people strived to make their two sides less in conflict perhaps we would all live in a world Mr.Hubbard would be more proud of today.

So truely ask yourself, are you fighting for what you believe in? Even if you are only fighting for the beliefs in your heart it is a start. Inside each and every one of us within the deepest darkest core and tucked away through all the recessess of pain, misfortunate, and chaos is one thing that always burns. That one thing is love.

I Was A Teenage Murder Junkie Part 2: Concert Of Carnage

G.G. Allin strode out on stage from behind Dino the Naked Drummer with a look of hateful disgust contorting his face. G.G. was wearing a pair of unlaced combat boots that kept tripping him up (it didn’t help that G.G. appeared to be severely drunk or drunk and high perhaps.). G.G. was sporting his token jock strap with “EAT ME” written in black sharpie on the front. Lastly G.G. had on a tattered tan trench coat that had been tagged by a black Sharpie which was used to scrawl “G.G. Allin & The Murder Junkies” down the back. G.G. made his way to the front of the small stage which in reality was more of s slightly elevated platform, and paced back and forth like a enraged tiger that had gone insane from captivity. G.G. grabbed the microphone from the stand like it owed him money and started singing ,but it was more or less yelling his lyrics at the top of his voice making the words hard to decipher at times. The 40-50 person crowd that had piled in behind us at the very last minute became electrified with a combination of fear and absolute awe. I then remembered what Unk had said about the safest place at the show being behind G.G. and thinking whatever happens we’re proper fucked. Due to the crowd forming behind us now Mike, Chuck and I had effectively moved forward into the front of the audience putting us on the front lines. By the time G.G. and The Murder Junkies ended the first song “Bite It You Scum” I was hooked, I had to see for myself what all of the hype was about first fucking hand.

To say G.G.’s reputation proceeded him would be the understatement of the millennium BUT thats another story all together so I digress for now anyway.

After the song ended G.G. tore off the duster like a wounded animal and addressed the crowd. “Did  you miss me?!” asked G.G. like a demented drill sergeant  “Yeah the fucking pigs, the goddamn pig judge those motherfuckers locked me up, they tried to break me, but they didn’t know shit, I’m fucking unbreakable!!” he continued angrily. By now the crowd had backed up forming the body of the audience into a U formation leaving a wide berth in front of the stage. It was in this vacant space that a couple of young fans in black metal t-shirts and torn jeans were slam dancing. G.G.’s tyrannical rant continued “I’m here and I’m really fucking pissed, you’ll being hearing a lot about me in the next couple of months THATS for sure!! Look into my eyes and hate me!” as the band started banging out the G.G. fan favorite “Look Into My Eyes and Hate Me”

I was in shock, frozen like the preverbal deer in the head lights with my eyes wide open fixated on G.G. ,and remembered a quote I had heard that said G.G. Allin was his own one man version of a freak show. How true those words rang now deafening in my head. It was then that some drunk kid with a shaved head did something to piss G.G. off who responded by bounding off stage onto the show floor. G.G. damn near ran at the guy who didn’t see G.G. coming because he was aimlessly spinning in a circle, and once G.G. reached the kid he hauled off and punched in the kid in the face. The startled kid swung wildly in self defense as G.G. continued to punish this kids discrepancy with his fists. After a minute or so a couple of other fans stepped in and dismantled the mayhem as one fan grabbed G.G. around the waist, swung him a 180 degrees, and then shoved him words the stage. G.G. jumped back on stage and picked up the microphone which he had dropped before getting into the fight with the shaved head kid. G.G. picked up right where he left off ending “Look Into My Eyes and Hate Me” flawlessly. Little did I know that the chaos I had witnessed was just the beginning as this engine of insanity was just warming up.

The next 15 minutes of the concert I can sum up by song:

“Die When You Die”- during this popular G.G. anthem G.G. poured a pitcher of cheap beer over his head, slammed the microphone repeatedly into his head until he bled, and left the stage this time to writhe on the filthy cement floor flopping around like a fish out of water that was set on fire.

“Legalize Murder”- during this particular song G.G. played with himself several times, ran out into the audience crashing into fans like a drugged out bumper car. G.G. then returned to the stage where for the rest of the song he cut his chest with a crumpled up beer can while flailing around like a man possessed by demons during a Meth binge. At the end of the song G.G. took a few minutes to ask where the sluts and whores were at as he quickly drained a pint of Jack Daniel’s, and asked the audeince who of them likes to drink,fight and fuck before finally playing the next song in the set.

“I Wanna Fuck Myself”- G.G. look a leak in the corner, played with himself repeatedly, had another fist fight this time with the beer junkie over G.G. helping himself to a couple of beers with no intention what so ever of paying. G.G. slammed his head violently against a pipe that lined the east wall of the venue a couple of times, and G.G. throwing  garbage cans into/at the audience all the while bleeding like a stuck pig his face a veritable crimson mask.

“Shoot, Knife, Strangle, Beat and Crucify” was the next song during which G.G. ditched his jock strap and ran completely naked through the crowd and around the perimeters of the basement the show was being housed in. G.G. stopped singing intermittently during his manic antics some times never finishing the song as The Murder Junkies played on not missing a beat.

“Gypsy Motherfucker” was highlighted by G.G. throwing the mic stand into the audience, shoving a female fan to the floor, a Microphone malfunction, and more of G.G.’s ranting this time over the microphone’s failure.

“What kind of dive bar piece of shit is this? Bunch of goddamn bullshit, can’t get a decent cocksucking mic, who do I have to kill to get decent gear  really? Cuz I’m about to find that fucker and murder them!” G.G. asked aggressively to no one in particular.

This served only to incite the crowd into further rowdiness as fans yelled out their support for G.G. with a growing angst and enthusiasm. G.G. got off stage for the umpteenth time to wander around the concert venue pounding beers along with cocktails he grabbed out of the fans hands as the microphone issue wasn’t being addressed. The Murder Junkies stood around loitering on the stage in some state of confusion as G.G. handled his complaint. Finally some rail thin greasy looking stage tech scrounged up a back up microphone from the bowels of the bar. G.G. snatched it from him immediately and plugged it in as if he was trying to murder the mic by stabbing it with the cord.

“Alright now we’re talking, what the fuck was that bullshit fucking unprofessional assholes” G.G. announced mumbling to the crowd as they became yet more frantic by the minute. You could feel the energy escalating, higher and higher as the adrenaline was flowing freely kicking in the intensity of the fight or flight principle. Tensions were so strained that at any moment it seemed the room could erupt in a full on, full blown riot of biblical proportions.

“Now we’re going to play is what the fuck I am a Son Of Evil!” G.G. snarled in a low growl of sorts. 15 seconds into the song the lights went out. Mike, Chuck and I were now standing side by side in total blackness, not darkness mind you I’m talking black like the finality of death itself. The only lights as I’ve mentioned were the stage lights which now had become enveloped along with everything else in the pitch black of the bar’s basement. The stunned crowd started chattering like a swarm of locusts as people tried to deduce what had happened or what had possible just happened to cause the black out and so suddenly at that. Several minutes passed as the questioning crowd grew more irritated than fearful over the total lack of light. The sounds of frustration started to ring out, the breaking of glass beer bottles, the loud and violent yelling ( “Lets fuck shit up!” “Fuck this shit!” “Burn this shithole down” “Fuck this I paid 5 bucks for a fucking ticket and I get this bullshit! “Hell fucking no!” are a few examples of what I heard.) and other various sounds of impending destruction all around us.

As the crowd wound itself up to a fevered pitch I had a reoccurring thought.

“If anything happens we’re proper fucked.”

God & Satan Enemies Of A Different Color

Preface: Most people know the story of God casting Satan from Heaven because Satan wanted to take control of Heaven.

  1. It all started when God got bored and created people to entertain him (the original reality t.v.) which pissed off more than a few Angels due to their jealousy of God’s infatuation with his new creations.
  2. Satan was not only an Angel he was the Angel of Light effectively he was God’s right hand man. Satan gathered a group of like minded angels bound together by their hate of humanity and God’s preferential treatment of people. Once Satan had assembled his crew they picked a fight with God by trash talking Humans, a fight that Satan lost.
  3. God banished Satan (along with his traitorous posse) from heaven.
  4.  BUT GOD DID NOT BANISH SATAN TO HELL. God decided if Satan hated man more than anything then Satan’s punishment was to walk among man for eternity.
  5. From this point out God and Satan were deemed to be immortal enemies clashing in a constant war of conflict as each tries to win more souls than the other.

The Question: Now I have read the Bible and I like most have a few questions. The first and foremost I question the relationship between God and Satan as far as the traditional belief. As I stated earlier in #5 God and Satan are supposed to be the ultimate foes, yet in the Bible there seems to be a good bit of dialogue between God and Satan. This alone strikes me as odd considering their intense and eternal war of good versus evil after Satan got his ass evicted from his Heavenly home.

The best example in my mind of God and Satan’s rather unorthodox relationship lies in the story of Job. Here is a brief run down summation of the story of Job as told by me (Less Sober).

One day God and Satan (post battle for Heaven) were hanging out together which seems to me like a mighty oxymoron. Why would God and Satan hangout together if their such intense enemies that they actually went to war against one another?

While God and Satan are lallygagging about God starts to brag a good bit about his follower Job and how much Job loves God with undying loyalty. Satan decides to bust God’s balls a bit about this oh so holy and devoted Job guy. Satan makes a side comment to God that its totally obvious the only reason Job gives a shit about God is because Job has a sweet life. Job had a big house, a lot of land, a wife, tons of kids and a productive farm, BUT if Job didn’t have all the perks then he’d abandon God flat out.

Now this conversation seems to follow suit with the relationship described in the Bible between the two Deities, God says something positive and Satan then undermines it with negativity. HOLD ON MY FRIENDS This Is Where It Gets Really Weird.

God decides based on what Satan said to make a bet. YES IT WAS GOD who made the bet WITH SATAN. In some versions of this story some of the faithful claim Satan proposed the bet to God, but sadly no it was all God’s idea.

The bet is this: God allows open hunting season on Job enabling Satan to do whatever horribly wicked shit he could think of to torment Job. If Job remains loyal to God in spite of all the suffering Satan rains down upon him God wins, but if Job succumbs to Satan’s vile endeavorers then simply Satan wins.

Satan then proceeds to run shop on Job. Satan kills all of Jobs crops, kills all of his animals, all of Job’s servants, burns his house down, and kills all of Job’s sons and daughters while they ate together. Job remains standing God.

Round Two Satan struck Job with sores from head to toe. Here Job’s wife does something strange she tells Job to CURSE God and then die. Its the dying part that confuses me because why would she want her husband dead considering Satan killed the rest of the family at this point. Anyway I digress. Job for his credit did not curse God nor did he die, but he did at one point wonder why his God was allowing all this foul shit to happen to him, and at one point even asks God to let him die (assumedly to avoid further torture). Job through it all sticks by God and remains faithful by not sinning in cursing God.

God immediately declares himself the victor to Satan, and then shoots down to Earth to tell Job to shut up and stop asking questions for God works in mysterious ways.

In Summation allow me to state my opinion on the story/subject matter at hand. This is how I see it in all honesty. It appears to me that instead of being eternal enemies God and the Satan had a more personal relationship (as opposed to one ruling Heaven and the other Hell completely independent of one another). To me its more like two best friends who started a business together and the business started to flourish making all involved very happy. Then one friend makes an executive decision about staffing without consulting his friend and partner first. This leads to resentment, tension, stress and anxiety plaguing the friendship driving the two friends apart. Finally one of the friends has had enough and attempts a hostile takeover of the company only to fail, and thus the partnership dissolves spectacularly along with the friendship over an argument on how the company should be run. As the years pass the two friends begin to reconnect yet both are still pissed about their falling out as each blames the other for their failed friendship. Though God and Satan don’t ever reconcile they form a new love-hate relationship because though they had a shitty falling out their friendship out weighs the one vicious fight over difference of opinion.

 

 

A Story In Just 55 words

Deep in the heart of Texas where his evil lives
A mask forged from the skin of victims bodies
A house of horrors built by damnation alone
Countless corpses lying about in decay
He’s the angel of death
the saw is family
unquenchable cannibalistic carnage
endless death
forever

(The Theme the Story is inspired and based upon in the character and horror movie icon Leatherface from the original 1974 Texas Chainsaw Massacre)

T.R. McCoy The Man, The Myth, The Monster

The following newspaper article was published in the Podunk County Chronicle on December 9th 1913 on the 25th anniversary of T.R. McCoy’s disappearance.

T.R.McCoy was one of the most controversial figures in American history that you’ve never heard of. T.R. McCoy was an anthropologists, successful sociologist, and the pioneering founder of the scientific field of cryptozoology, who one cold winter night after leaving a fundraiser for his next expedition (to the tropical islands in the Arctic Circle) heavily drunk and aggravated, vanished leaving only his left black leather glove upon the stair of the Naturalist Park on December 9th, 1888.

During his prolific and troubled carrier T.R.McCoy won several Nobel prizes for pioneering the field of cryptozoology in 1818, and for advancements in the field of sociology (in 1817, 1821 and 1833)

T.R.McCoy also had a plethora of criminal court cases for example the multiple charges of exploitation and detriment to the indigenous tribes people he studied. Once T.R.McCoy disappeared from the face of the earth; the flood gates for conspiracy theorists were opened. People formulated theories such as: The Vatican had him assassinated. Could it have been, that one of his 17 ex-wives/mistresses killed him in a crime of passion unable to tolerate his penchant for womanizing? Was it that T.R.McCoy faked his own death to escape from public controversy and legal prosecution? Did McCoy run off to one of his exotic locations and was eaten by vengeful cannibals whose ancestors McCoy swindled into becoming cheap slave labor.  Others hypothesized McCoy fell victim to a revenge bent supernatural specter from beyond the grave seeking retribution. Some said it was an alien abduction, but at the same time others wondered if McCoy himself was in fact an alien or perhaps a human-alien hybrid. Some in the general community believe McCoy, through his advanced knowledge of physics and the time space continuum, opened a portal to escape the chaos of his career and the turmoils of his personal life by entering another unknown dimension. Some other people think McCoy was employed by a government agency working on top secret project (McCoy was working with the military but the all the files are still to this day remain classified) and simply knew to much so he was effectively “Taken Out”
The more likely reality is that a fellow competitor (and there were plenty) murdered him out of jealously or retribution for McCoy destroying their careers, as he was known to do if for any reason big or small if he disliked you. More probable causes for McCoy’s disappearance also include being killed by a nefarious person from the criminal underworld due to an outstanding gambling debt. McCoy was a notorious gambler who would bet on anything just to make a wager. McCoy could have just as easily dropped his glove as he staggered down the park stairs intoxicated (as his penchant for drink was legendary), stumbled off into the park, and accidentally fell into the Elli river that runs through the park.
No body was ever found even after an extensive 93 day search. In the end we can only speculate and must be ready to acknowledge the fact that the world may never know what really happened to T.R.McCoy the man, the myth, the monster.

Fame, Fortune & Fuck All

W.H. Auden once said “The interests of a writer and the interests of his readers are never the same and if, on occasion, they happen to coincide, this is a lucky accident.” I believe Auden was commenting on two different points derived from the same statement. First Auden is simply explaining that what a writer finds interesting, and thusly writes about, in no way guarantees that potential reader’s will be interested in what the writer had written. Second I believe Auden was stating that even when reader’s read a written piece it doesn’t mean they will get the same meaning as other readers or even the author. People’s perceptions are as unique to the reader as their views and opinions, so no two readers will interpret one piece in the same way.
I completely, totally, and absolutely agree with Auden’s statement. If I’m not interested in a subject then I won’t ever write about it. I don’t pander in anyway, shape, or form to or for possible readers I write for an audience of one, and that one is me. I am also fully aware that not everyone will read, enjoy, or like what I have written and I welcome it all good, bad and indifferent. I know as a writer that my so called demographic will be a niche market appealing to only a few select people, but with the assistance of the internet a writer’s audience has gone global which helps niche writers find their following.

Suicide and The Soul By Spacedog

Warning The following article deals with the subject of Suicide.
If your suicidal stop reading this immediately and
PLEASE GET HELP.
If your suicidal my point is you have nothing to lose so why not seek help?
Suicide is the one regret you can’t do anything about.

COMING BACK AS SOMEONE DIFFERENT

Recently I have had a complete change in my psyche.  I do not know if this is due to failed suicide attempts or perhaps a mid-life crisis.  I mean, don’t most gay people die when they reach the age of say 60 if they are lucky.  Most of us seem to pass on quietly into the sunset, be it as a whore or be it as an admirer of cashmere sweaters.
Anyway so there I was about one week ago in the hospital after taking a whole bottle of sleeping pills.  I do not remember much of anything as I went into a complete delusional state.  But when I came back from my so-called coma, nothing really mattered at that point, but in a negative way. My feelings disappeared from me.
So too has my common sense as to how to post a blog hence.  I wish I didn’t have to be so cold and emotionless.  The simple pleasures of food and of the flesh mean little to me at this point.  Sleep brings no more comfort, as my vivid dreams haunt me.  My days linger forth.
I wish I could be the person I was a month ago, but he is long dead.  But he is still in there.  It’s like my failed suicide didn’t kill my body.  It killed some of my soul, not all of it.  Most of it is dead now.

IMPORTANT: This happened many years ago, and Spacedog is very much alive and well today having wrestled his Demons under control.

-spacedog-

The Paradox of Family

Along the course of one’s life they will experience a multitude of different people. Some of the individuals will have a nasty and negative affect while others will have a productive and positive influence. There lies a third personality that will knock you down into a sea of negativity only then to throw you a life preserver. I am not a person who grew up with bullies for me that third personality which influenced me to become the core of who I am through both negativity as well as positivity during my grade school years would be my father Stephen Lawrence. My father was my hero and at the same time my tormenter as I grew up.
The most positive characteristic of my father’s that helped me become the man that I have would be that he was well educated he graduated high school, college, got his masters in English, and went on to teach English at Temple University. Now one must remember a person can be well educated , but that doesn’t mean they are intelligent. My father had an unquenchable thirst for knowledge that lead him to be a prolific reader averaging up to three or four books a week. My father read up on a myriad of subjects, fiction and non fiction alike, to satisfy his intellectual curiosities. My father also became extremely interested in cooking and decided to teach himself using cooking shows as well as reading cooking books. By the end of his life he was truly an accomplished chef. My father also loved to travel. He traveled everywhere from Costa Rica to France but he never wanted to be the generalized cliche American tourist. My father taught himself Spanish, French, and Italian for the purpose of being able to converse with the locals as opposed to just being able to hail a taxi or find a bathroom.
I am proud to say that this thirst for knowledge has greatly influenced my life to this very day so much so that I used to joke that I must have been a cat in all of my previous lives. My father taught me to not only question anything and everything, but to research the facts, pertaining to a subject for myself. I’m definitely a “Must see it to believe it” person. Thanks to my father, I also share his enjoyment of learning. Whatever it may be that sparked his passion for knowledge; I am the same way. The best way I can sum up my father’s and my pursuit of knowledge is thus “No one ended up on their death bed wishing they didn’t know so much.”
Unfortunately the worst personality trait of my father was his terrible and intimidating temper. My father would loudly criticize the other party and then he could/would hold a grudge for up to and including decades. My father was also fond of his own version of the cold shoulder. He started the usual way of just coldly ignoring the person he was angry with, but periodically he would walk past the person he had taken issue with and glare at them with intense contempt and unparalleled disgust. He would maintain this icy stare until he was recognized at which point after a minute or so of unholy silence he simply would walk away not saying a single word. My father could get himself so enraged that even the most honest heartfelt apology would accomplish nothing. The issue was only considered resolved when my father was satisfied with the current state of affairs. Then and only then was the argument over. With my father it was never his fault for anything. It was always someone else complicating his life with nonsense, and this served as a constant and all encompassing excuse for his tremendous temper. My father was born with the proverbial chip on his shoulder and nurtured a “The world vs. Me” attitude.
I’m sad to say that I inherited in many ways my father’s abominable anger. I can be criticizing to the point of cruelty, but unlike my father I do not indulge in the cold shoulder concept. Instead of being cold I come in hot and only get hotter as my anger feeds upon itself growing more enraged with each passing minute. Unlike my father who was above insult and profanity I am most certainly not. When angry I swear like a sailor with Tourettes and have no trouble lowering myself to the low level of hurling insults upon one’s character. I, like my father, will only be satisfied when I feel the issue has reached its end and then in my mind it is actually over. Yet through all of this my father’s ill temper has also helped me become a better person in the end. I’m fully aware that my temper greatly mimics my father’s, but once I turned thirty I realized I don’t want or need to be like my father when anger rears its combative face. I started (and still am) working on my anger issues and how I can /could learn to control them before I totally become unhinged to say the least. Now to give credit where credit is due my father attempted and succeeded greatly to control his own anger, but he didn’t start this so called transformation of character until he turned 61. Part of my realization has been, if he could change at 61 then I have the opportunity to not only change my ways, but to do it with a thirty year advantage.
Another major influence my father had on me was his fear of illness as my father was a consummate hypochondriac. My father never had just a common cold he always had cancer. Thats to say my when my father got sick he would immediately go to the worst case scenario and then act accordingly. My father convinced himself he got sicker more often, for longer periods of time, and had the most severe symptoms out of anyone he knew who may have contracted the cold thus far. My father also made a point of making it abundantly clear that he was suffering each and every time he got sick as if he expected that at any given moment he would end up an invalid on his death bed due to his current horrendous state of heath. I possess the same brand of hypochondria with a few exceptions.
Growing up with my father instilled an intense instinct to remain healthy. If my wife or coworker for example were coming down with a cold/flu I automatically go into decontamination mode. I will start to take excessive amounts of vitamins, spray down communal areas with thick clouds of Lysol disinfectant, obsessively wash my hands, and avoid the infected person as much as humanly possible. When I do contract a cold I too assume the worst and begin to compulsively monitor my symptoms for signs of improvement constantly until my previous good health is restored in full.
I think the most admirable thing about my father was his incredibly strong work ethic. When my father took on a task/job or had a specific goal he wanted to achieve nothing short of death could stop him from accomplishing task/job or completing his goal. My father never procrastinated, delayed or did anything half way, for my father it truly was all or nothing. My father gave a hundred percent while staying intently focused on the work at hand, and if the job in the end wasn’t a hundred percent then the job was a total and complete failure. My father knew failure was unavoidable and he none the less detested it.
My father’s incredible work ethic is more than likely the strongest influence my father had on me growing up. When I have a task/job or goal to accomplish I too have to give it a hundred percent or nothing. I won’t let anything get in my way either and will not stop working from the beginning to the end relentlessly. With that said the influence of my father’s work ethic has a definite up side, but it also for me has a detrimental downside as well. I have unintentionally become the most ferocious perfectionist which causes me to be extremely hard on myself. I am most critical of myself above anyone else to the point which I beat myself up over the littlest things making mountains out of mole hills as the saying goes. I at some point along the road decide that nothing so far is any good and I can convince myself the entire project is flawed thus rendering it a futile waste of time and effort.
Once again we can see life is far from being simply black and white. In fact most of life falls into an enormous grey area. While it is true there will be specifically negative influences such as bullies or bad bosses, also there will be positive ones such as siblings or significant others. Most people you encounter will have a mixed influence upon your life and character. There will be some good along with some bad. It all comes down to the following: no matter who or what the influence may be, remember you can take what you like from the situation and leave all the rest behind.

“If Your Donald Trump’s Assistant Why Do You Drive A Ford Escort?” By Spacedog In His Delightfully Demented Debut

I guess some people just can’t help themselves. Some people just spurt all kinds of lies out of their mouths. I am guilty as well, heck I was caught in a tiny little lie tonight. Some people can lie about much more though. Some lies people tell are funny. Others are mean and there are even a few people that tell the lie even more then they tell the truth.
I once met a rather attractive man. He was from somewhere out on Long Island, I’m not exactly sure where at though. He was 25. So I met him in the city and he wanted to take me out to dinner. OK, why not I thought? He told me he was Donald Trump’s personal assistant. I was young. I was vain. I was thinking cha-ching. I was _________ (fill in your favorite negative word to describe me).
So he comes to Jersey to pick me up. He was driving a Ford Escort. A small little red flag went off in my head. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was just cheap with his cars or maybe the beamer was in the shop.
So we go out to eat. We start driving down the road towards nothing in particular and are just talking. He pulls into the mall. I hate the goddamn mall. So I tell him and we leave the mall. It is at this moment that he tells me how much he likes Wendy’s and asks me where there is one. Not my idea of a “date” (I suppose this was a date?) I thought at least Fridays. So we end up at Wendy’s.
He buys me whatever I wanted but then he gets two things from the dollar menu and that was it. Red flag number two I thought. Hmmmmm maybe he could be anorexic? The other half of me was still trying to defend him.
So then we get to the movies. He wants to see nothing in particular and whenever I suggest a movie, he claims he already saw it and it was lame. So we  rent a movie. Red flag number 3? Oh he must be a strong man with strong opinions.
So we go and watch the movie. I go in the door, he comes in the window. We watch. He keeps complimenting me. He wants something. What does he want? Oh wait, me? But the little flags go up and my pants don’t. So he leaves after that.
About two weeks later, I go back to New York. I’m having a pretty good time, meeting people, dancing (yes I once danced), and I see someone cute. So we start talking and I tell him I’m dating someone but it isn’t really that serious. I like to talk too much so I describe the guy. He gets a distraught look on his face.”Does he work for Donald Trump?”, cute boy asks me.  “Yeah he told me that.” I reply.
Turns out he really was 35 years old, worked at the Dunkin Donuts, lived with the parents and not in the penthouse, was HIV positive, had lied to cute boy, and also infected him.
All shreds of decency for this man completely died. I wanted to throw up, I wanted to scream, I wanted to key this man’s car or worse. Then I saw cute boy and I hugged him. He didn’t deserve all this. I didn’t. No one else did.

Shady man had a decent personality and looked good but everything about him was a lie. His whole being was a lie. The few positives about him were bludgeoned. Thankfully shady man was an exception to the rule.
People still can’t help but lie. The age lie is way too common. The ages of 18,21, 29, and 39 still sends off bells and whistles in my head. 18 because I used to say that when I was 14 or 15, the rest because people like to hold on to their 20s or 30s like there is going to be some catatonic occurrence if they were actually 30 or 40.
I am 30 and damn proud. I gave the whole lets pick a random number in the 20s and be that a thought, but it quickly died there. I like to keep my lies simple. Things like: “I have to go my sister just put our rabbit in the microwave or AAAAAAHHHH I just let a squirrel in the house or my dad is attacking my mom with a meat cleaver.” Those work much better for me.
All I can really say to the true liars is this. Watch out cuz spacedog is gonna go into gay commando mode when he finds out. Anyone who’s gone out with me for drinks in Pennsy knows about this mode. Beware.

-spacedog-

A True Partner In Crime

The question of, in ones mind, what makes up a person’s ideally perfect partner is as old as humanity itself. The journey to find ones soul mate is the undying quest of every human past, present, and future has or will endure. The deeply ingrained desire to find the one person, on an entire planet of people that you were destined to be with keeps people perseverant and imprisoned. Once again I find myself facing the eternal question of what would comprise my ideal partner in and for life.
Now almost all men automatically put physical appearance as the number one trait that they seek in a woman first and foremost. I personally do not. In fact physical appearance comes in dead last on my list. There are a singular of physical trait that I would prefer and those would that my partner and an inch or two shorter than me or as tall as me would also suffice. I’m not one of those macho guys that feel the need to tower over their partner like King goddamn Kong . What I mean is I don’t want to be walking down the street with my partner, and have some idle idiot come up to tell me what a pretty daughter I have. The so called height requirement is not written in stone as I consider all women to be attractive no matter what society dictates. Its all about what I and only I think. I don’t give a rat’s ass about what society says I don’t cow down to advertising dictating the way people should look. Its a futile endeavor that servers more over to make people fell like shit about themselves feeding on basic human insecurities. Bottom line some cliches are cliches because their true and with that said beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Emotionally I look for two primary traits in a woman the first is that she is a passionate. As I am an artist, I appreciate and admire passion for anything in any form. I’m not talking specifically talking not just about physical passion (though I like physical passion as much as the next person), but passion in all its forms. It could be a passion for sports, reading, biking,music, B movies or whatever personal passion fuels that emotional component. I think it goes without saying that my ideal woman would be loving which is the key emotional trait I believe everyone man or woman in the world truly is seeking. No one wants to be with someone who doesn’t actually love them (or act in a loving manner) like someone who marries for money or social status for example.
When it comes to the intellect I would want (or need is a more accurate word I suppose) to be with a woman who has above average intelligence. Just a reminder to readers Intelligence and Educated are to separate animals, you can be quite intelligent without being educated. It does not matter how attractive or loving a woman is if I can’t have an intelligent conversation with her. I enjoy learning about an extremely diverse range of subjects (Buddhism, Troma Movies/independent cinema, and psychological warfare to name a few) If I’m with someone who doesn’t care, understand or can’t intellectually keep up then I know the relationship is going to be a rather ferocious failure.
The personality of my ideal partner would have to be positive as I’m a natural born pessimist, and need a partner who can counteract me negativity with their positivity. She would also need to be out going because I’m an introvert who tends to shun society as a whole, and again I’d need my partner to help provide a healthy balance between the world and myself. She must be accepting, open minded to new things and ideas as I am, and patient as I am an emotionally driven artist which means I can make life complicated, chaotic and be a bit overwhelming. My mother wrote my Wife a letter before we got married letting her know that she was glad my Wife could see my big heart underneath all the candy coated craziness as “I’m not an easy person to live with.” I do not deny it in the least as I’m fully aware I’m difficult to deal with or live with let alone marry. This is why I tell people my wife is my far better half with the patience of a saint with a heart of pure gold (which she needs to handle my daily frantic mood swings along with my constant loud ranting and raving endlessly.)
I truly do believe and feel extremely optimistic that any person has beyond excellent chances of meeting their ideal partner as long as they can be perseverant. Finding your ideal partner can take time, as its a process through trial and error. It can take years even decades, but it can be done as long as a person doesn’t become depressed and abandon all hope during the process. I’m not going to sugar coat shit it can be a grueling task finding ones ideal partner, and its no wonder that people can feel hopeless at times. But if you keep your eyes open and remain head strong through the inevitable failed relationships I fully believe anyone will find their ideal partner (in the end no matter what may occur along the way.) I was one of those people who gave up searching and fell into a sea of self pity, but as soon as I stopped obsessing about finding my ideal partner or if this person actually existed only then I found the my ideal partner. Thus its not only possible to find your ideal partner, but to find an ideal partner with every and all traits physically, emotionally, intellectually, and with the personality you desire as long as you don’t succumb to feelings of failure.
The characteristics I value the most in an ideal partner are intelligence as well as personality, as I can’t be with a woman who is not on my intellectual level because we simply wouldn’t have anything meaningful to talk or debate about, and that is something I can’t do without. Personality is the second characteristic I can’t make any exceptions on because I need someone who’s personality is the exact opposite of mine. I’ve been in relationships with women who’s personalities mirrored mine (which one would think would be perfect but its not) ,and each of those relationships in spite of the fact I thought I had found my ideal partner failed due to the fact we were too much alike. I need my ideal partners personality to be outgoing, accepting, open minded and loving or I know that the relationship is doomed from the start.
So in the end its my belief that everyone not only has an ideal partner with the specific desired characteristics, but that anyone in time will find their ideal partner no matter where they may be. Just like anything, as long as you don’t give up or break down and settle for second best, you will succeed in your quest for your perfect partner as I did.