My Beach

I live in the shadow of a postcard image. The New York City skyline shines brightly across the Hudson River, almost a stone's throw away from my front door. Every day and night, the buildings tower into the sky relentlessly, standing there as some benchmark for the glory and achievement of mankind. We did this. Well, not me, but people did this... human beings. It stands as possibly one of, if not, the greatest record of man made structure.

Living as close as I do, I tend to take this great behemoth for granted. Sure, some days I acknowledge just how awesome it is to be so close to it all. But many days, it's as if it's not there. Or it is but I just choose not to pay it any of my attention. Tonight, for the first time in some time, I paid a visit as close as I could to the Hudson River to bask in its glory.

As I stood there, I was hit with sudden flashbacks. I started to remember a time in my life when this was one of my favorite things to do. Coming up in my 20's, a younger me would love to venture to this spot after the bars had closed down. Sometimes I'd head down there with a bunch of friends, and we'd bullshit our way through a 12 pack while New York City stood there screaming at us. It wasn't serenity, but it was something.

The NYC skyline plays such a pivotal role in my upbringing. I came into legal drinking age only a year before 9/11. I grew up to a skyline that was filled with those gigantic Twin Towers and then one day they were gone. And the spot where they stood was a void, not to be filled with anything for many years to come. I remember 9/11 and coming to terms with it. A more selfish part of me worried about wars and drafts and no more fun. Sometimes it seemed like the party was only beginning for people my age and all of the sudden everything had changed.

But that feeling faded over time. Eventually there came a moment where it all sorta went back to normal. Being pissed at the boss. Being behind on cell phone payments. A flat tire. Sex. Drugs. Breaking up. That sorta stuff. It kept on going. For a short time, it felt like someone pressed pause on life but eventually we had to hit fast forward just to make up for lost time.

Somewhere in my 20's the skyline became a getaway. A beach. A destination. A place to extend the night once the bars closed down. A place for me and my dumb friends to go and demand more from the night. Those were good nights. To hell with the Jersey shore. We had our own place by the water. We had the biggest city in the world looking down on us and we clung to cheap beer and cigarettes and talked philosophy and cracked jokes well into the night.

Until one night when it ended. Cops rolled up. We were drinking in public. The officer told us to get lost and so we did. We never returned. And I never thought much about it. We replaced it with diners or friends' houses or wherever else we could find a willing host to our after hours. But none of that was ever a beach. Not like the NYC skyline. That's my beach.

As I stood there tonight, I wondered about those times. I wondered if I appreciated it enough back then. I wondered if those were simpler or better times or if I was only increasing its value through nostalgia. Either way, I missed my beach.

The skyline remains. I fear about a future skyline when all of New York City finally gets wise to New Jersey's staring eyes. How long until everything on that skyline would be covered in advertisements? How much more purity could they suck out of it? I wondered what it looked like from the Jersey side 200 years ago. If anyone could've ever imagined this. And then I wondered what I possibly couldn't imagine it'd look like 200 years from now.

A Lazy Dude's Guide to Running a Half Marathon

Last weekend, after running a half marathon, I found myself in a nearby diner waiting patiently to chow down on what would be a big ol' breakfast. The diner was nearly spitting distance away from the finish line for the half marathon. While waiting for a table, I ended up chatting with another participant and we talked about our times. Mine was 2 hours and 2 minutes. She did it in 2 hours and 10 minutes. Then we talked about how there's one point where you're running into this park and the way it loops around, you can see the front runners who were probably gonna win this thing miles ahead of you, running like gazelles. She said, "we could do that, we just have to put in the right training for it." And she's right. But it also felt like it belittled our accomplishment, as if we did nothing to deserve what we got... like we didn't train for this or put forth any effort (and for all I know, maybe she didn't, but I did).

Here's the thing, I'm a lazy dude. I'm a lazy dude who just happens to enjoy running. I run because I'm a lazy dude. About six years ago, I was being my usual lazy self and watching tv after work. I'd usually watch tons of tv after work. I always figured I earned the right because I put in a full day at the office. But my tv watching habit started to bother me. I started thinking about how my cycle for many weekdays in a row would be work, tv, sleep, repeat. And that realization felt awful. So I got up and ran. It's all I could think to do at the time to try and combat my lazy lifestyle.

The first time out, I told myself I'd run as far as I could go which wasn't very far at all. When I got home, I figured I'd do the same thing again tomorrow and the next day and so on. And here we are six years later, and I've now run the Jersey City half marathon twice. In between, I worked my way up. The endurance comes with time. It was a slow build, but I've always pretty much kept the same goal... I'll run as far as I can go and that's about it.

When I think back to day one and how I couldn't even run a full mile nonstop, I think about what I would've thought in that moment about the idea of running 13.1 miles nonstop. Or if present me could go back in time and tell 24 year old me (four years before I started running), "Hey, you just ran a half marathon. Thought you'd like to know." 24 year old me wasn't about that. He would've scoffed or not cared or told me to get out of the way because I'm blocking his view of Seinfeld reruns.

I'm not the fastest runner out there. I'm never gonna be that. I'm always going to be that lazy dude who decided the only logical solution to try and combat his own laziness was to get up and run. I'm never going to win the race. But that's okay. I didn't do this for racing. I did this to not be lazy or be less lazy. That alone is good enough for me. Always has been. Get off my ass and run till I can't run anymore. That's always been the objective. And if that's landed me at 2 hours and 2 minutes for a half marathon, I'm pretty proud of that.

That One Time I Sorta Didn't Tip

So recently LeSean McCoy, running back for the Philadelphia Eagles, left a 20 cent tip at a restaurant and that restaurant in turn posted the receipt on facebook and it, of course, went viral. And while I always condemn no/shitty tipping, this whole thing reminded me of the one time I broke my own code and left a dude a 5 cent tip.

That's right, 5 cents. A nickel. I tipped a dude a nickel. It was at Johnny Rocket's (years ago). When you go to Johnny Rocket's, the server gives you a nickel to put in the jukebox. Free song on the house. And that's the exact amount I tipped him. Cold blooded, I know.

I went with a few friends. It was in that strange era of young adulthood where only one friend is allowed to have a job at a time so he/she ends up paying for everyone else whenever they wanna do something. I was said dude with the job and I wanted some Johnny Rocket's. To this day, I still love me some Johnny Rocket's. Just the mere mention of going there pumps me up. What's not to like? 50's/60's rock music, dancing staff, burgers, fries, shakes, cherry soda, and maybe most importantly, the apple pie... the perfect finisher.

On this particular occasion, things were going well. We didn't have a bad waiter. We got what we ordered in a timely fashion. There were no mistakes. Everyone enjoyed their meal. Once the main course was over, it was time for apple pie. This was a certainty in my head. I knew that's how this whole thing was gonna end. When I went to order the apple pie, our waiter told us it was too late and they couldn't serve us apple pie. Apparently the apple pie station was closed and opening it back up for business was not an option.

I was pissed! But I was Josh pissed. I didn't yell or shout. I think I just gave a quick, "aww, c'mon man!" which got me nothing. He left us our check. I paid it, went back to the table and left a nickel on the table. I was making a point and I was scared. When I dropped the nickel on the table, I turned to my friends and said, "let's go! let's go! let's go!" I sped walked out of there, not wanting to have an encounter with our waiter after he realized I only left him a nickel because I am a total coward.

I got out of there with no ruckus. But I'm not proud of that moment. I wish I had thought it over a bit more. I'm sure our waiter was just following protocol handed down to him from some other guy who probably had a key for Apple Pie Town but didn't wanna use it. If I saw that waiter today (and if I remembered anything about him, like his name or what he looked like), I'd probably give him $20 and write the words, "sorry for being a douche," on it (in fact I'd have those words coming out of Andrew Jackson's mouth because then it'd have double the meaning because Andrew Jackson was sorta a douchebag. Don't believe me, google it! He did way worse things than leave nickel tips, although a nickel was probably something in his time).

Anyways, point is, I think you should always leave a tip, even if the service sorta sucked or you're not getting that apple pie you were banking on. Yes, I realize what a hypocrite I am. I did wrong and I'm sorry. My saving grace is that social networking was in its infancy at the time so there was no way for this dude to publicly shame me online, even if I pretty much deserved it. Current day me now tips 15% for bad service. That's right, even if they suck, I still throw something down for their effort or time. Waiting tables is tough business. Don't be a douche. Do the right thing, and leave a tip.

Ferguson, Missouri, USA

I don’t quite know how to properly express my rage about Ferguson, Missouri. I don’t know where to start, where to finish. There might be no finish. That might be the biggest ire of my rage. It never stops. The cycle continues. In my head, I know right from wrong. I know cops shouldn’t shoot kids dead on the streets of America. I know tanks shouldn’t roll through the streets to silence protesters. I know that whenever someone wants to speak up and be heard and say, “NO WAY, FUCK YOU! WE’RE NOT TAKING THIS SHIT ANYMORE!” they shouldn’t have to worry about the threat of tear gas or rubber bullets. I know racism is alive and well in the country I live in and that infuriates me. But what infuriates me further is when people tell me it’s not true. When people say racism’s dead or it’s better than it used to be, or it’s not the reason behind the pulling of a trigger. But then what is? It can’t be cigars. It can’t be a kid who knew to throw his hands up in the air. When I see what’s going down, I can’t be angry enough. I can’t compose myself to find the fancy words to convince others to share my rage. Why should anyone need convincing? Where’s the outrage? Why isn’t there more of it? I find myself outraged by a lack of outrage. Outrage born out of empathy. Outrage born out of concern for our fellow human. Don’t try and silence it or pretend it’s not there. Ferguson, Missouri, USA. This land is your land. Don’t pass the buck. The president’s out playing golf. You’re gonna have to get off the sidelines and get a little dirt on your hands. This isn’t patty cake politics.This is real fucking life. This is about a real fucking life that was taken. Gone forever. Mike Brown is dead. And we’re not. I’m tired of being scolded for wanting to improve society. I’m done with being told that we can’t make a difference. Indifference is death. Say something. Scream something. Grab something and shake it. There is no better time to show you’re alive than in the wake of a life that was needlessly put to rest.  

doug stanhope and the end of being offended

i paid money to see doug stanhope speak for the fourth time in my life last night. and if given the chance, i'll see him again and many more times if permitted. what stanhope does is hard to categorize and with good reason. i think the highest compliment you can give towards any artist is that their uniqueness is impossible to label. as soon as you're labeled, you're predictable which in no time at all will result in boredom. doug stanhope is many, many things, but boring is definitely not one of them.

i could ramble on about how hilarious doug stanhope is. but i won't. hilarious is subjective and you could go youtube something of his that won't make you laugh and call me a liar. but i'm not. i think he's hilarious. but even if you disagree, it's hard to argue with the numbers... three sold out shows, three nights in a row in new york city. you can see a shitload of comedy for a lot cheaper on any given night within spitting distance of the highline ballroom, and yet there we were, crammed to the extremities of the space provided.

and that's all well and good but for my money, the real shine of stanhope is his ability to push envelopes and forgo tiptoeing on sacred ground instead choosing to stomp mud holes through your most sacred patch of lawn. last time i saw him was only a year and a few months ago and yet here he was, with an hour or so of brand new material, all pushing the boundaries of what people probably find acceptable to talk about. you're not getting hack premises or light hearted guffawing. stanhope is real, raw, naked, crude, and somehow altogether ugly and beautiful all at once.

at some point or another, everyone will be offended by stanhope. that's no insult. i've heard the man say it himself. he's instructed audiences in the past to wait your turn because soon he'll move on to a topic that you'll find funny and someone else will be offended at. but that's stanhope, pulling no punches. and that's what keeps him fresh. comedy is filled with pulled punches and cosmetics applied to jokes that may be too rough for some people. too many people are willing to tell you what's taboo and untouchable. they make frantic lists of things you cannot say. but doug stanhope won't have any part of that conversation. he's the great, big middle finger looming over the whole silly debate.

being a fan of stanhope, even after he said words that offended me, i realized being offended is no big thing. we all get offended about something. but what's more offensive than anything else are those who think it's okay to bully you into being offended by what offends them. that's why the world needs doug stanhope. we've mutated into this society that runs around in circles pointing at all the things everyone should be offended at. doug stanhope's standing at the mountain top, hammered and belligerent, screaming from on high, "fuck that!" it's all nonsense and silly. and stanhope seems to be the only one hip to that notion.

positivity is mustard

there's a lot of positive affirmations flying around out there... a whole lot of, "think positive, live positive." and that's totally cool if that's your thing. but i think you should know that you're gonna need a lot more than positive affirmations or famous quotes that reflect lots of positivity to get through the day. life can be an ugly sludgefest beyond the assistance or repair of any makeup. we'd all probably do well to know ugly when we see it and not try to view it through some sorta rose colored glasses.

sure, a positive outlook is better than a negative outlook. i'm not debating that. what i am debating is that you can fix anything at all with positivity alone. sometimes you're doing something wrong or maybe you're not trying hard enough or maybe you're just having a shitty day that's not gonna get any easier on you no matter what you do. 

if positivity was enough, we would've cured cancer with facebook posts years ago. if all you needed was to see things in a brighter perspective, the football team coached by ned flanders would always win. ugly things happen. sometimes the bad guys win. we won't always get the happy ending. shit ain't like that. it's not. i can't tell you why but i know it's true because everyone has a shitty day and shitty things are constantly happening to good people.

don't go abandoning the good guy routine. the world needs more good guys than bad. but being good won't be enough. sometimes you gotta have a better plan or a bigger gun. sometimes you gotta be smarter, stronger, or more charismatic. a lot of times you have to be richer (sucks, i know. hooray capitalism???). no matter what the situation, most of the time, being more positive won't be enough to get you through your trials and tribulations. 

i'm not saying you should stop being positive altogether. to me, postivity is like a condiment... like ketchup, or mustard if you hate ketchup. and life's a burger. the point is to eat the burger. you're gonna eat it regardless and it's probably gonna taste better if you put your favorite condiment on it. but the condiment itself can't eat the burger. you gotta do that yourself. start chewing.

mind your following

kurt cobain didn't want jocks and racists to come to his shows or buy his albums and i respect that. if your art is an extension of you, then shouldn't you only want your art to be well received by people you could possibly stand to be around in person? unfortunately fame is probably like some monster run wild and there's no controlling who consumes you. in all likelihood, behind every famous face is a fanbase filled with people that person would despise. i know if i was in that position, i'd offer racists their money back for the album they purchased and tell them to fuck off.

but that's not how the world works. being famous, no matter how you accomplish it, is a business. money is what matters. there's bills to be paid and a livelihood at stake (possibly multiple livelihoods). it's all well and good to be chock full of principle when you're chasing a hobby while you clock in at some 9-5 that has no correlation with your dreams. but once your dreams start to become a reality, you have to treat it as such. or i like to think that's how it goes. otherwise i'd imagine there'd be a lot more celebrities offering buybacks on goods purchased from douchebags and meatheads globally.

but then some people take that following and run with it. fuck it, what else can you do but let it run amok all in your name. all of the sudden anytime someone pisses you off on twitter, you have thousands of nitwits ready to abuse them online. they'll do your bidding. oh, the power. that has to be nice. it takes a lot to get famous. a lot of people shit on you along the way. how grand is it to stand atop a pedestal and take no shit from no one anymore because your asshat audience has your back.

but at what point does it become obvious that the stereotype of your fanbase is a clueless asshole who can't think for themselves? when does that stop being fun and start turning into a reflection of the person you happen to be? all these idiots, and their common denominator is you. what's the attraction? do they see themselves in you? is it the asshole in you that brings out the asshole in them?

i'm sure there's no foolproof way to keep all the crazies out of your fort. but at what point do you call off the dogs and tell 'em to go build houses for the homeless instead? it's already a cruel world. you don't need to waste your few minutes in this existential spotlight playing the role of some pied piper who only attracts the village idiots. or maybe you do. maybe you've just been one of them yourself all along.

reformed father's day hater

i was originally going to sit down and write something semi-depressing about father's day. but then i thought better of it because there's nothing to be depressed about. life is packed with all sorts of experience and the best we can do is make the best of what we're given. i was given a hand that wasn't exactly chocked full of me purchasing, "world's best dad," mugs. but that's ok. it helped me to appreciate the value of my friends' dads who would get those on father's day. it helped me to believe that just because i didn't get the ideal situation growing up doesn't mean that all dads are bad. 

over the past several years, i've built a new relationship with my dad. i call it new because it's never going to be what it once was. at this point, i think the best we can get is him being my friend who can give me life advice (on anything except how to be a good dad or husband). he lives far, thousands of miles away, but we make the best of it. every couple of years we get together and we hang for a week or so and it's cool. i go into it with a positive attitude. i could easily be lazy about it and accuse him of bad things and blame every bad thing in my life on him, but i don't wanna do that. my life's not bad and i'm happy that we still have time to work on our bond together. 

and i got me an awesome mom. and sometimes i wonder if i'd know the full depths of her awesomeness if she wasn't thrown this challenge. she took it head on and never cracked. she's my hero and favorite human being. i'm a momma's boy. i'm grateful for our bond, i'm grateful for her, and i'm grateful for all she did for me and my brother over the years. i think about that more deeply on father's day than most other days and it fills me with gratitude. 

don't give the trophy to a horse

triple crown races. kentucky derby. the preakness. belmont stakes. it's usually around this time of year when i'll hear certain experts, and sometimes not even experts, chime in and say something like, "winning the triple crown is the biggest achievement in all of sports." and i couldn't disagree any more with that statement. i don't think horses should even be under consideration to be compared to other athletes, the biggest reason being that sports is man made. we made up these silly contests and the silly rules that make someone a winner. all these trophies and medals are things we pull out of thin air. they're like money in that if you think about it in the abstract, it only means as much as we put behind it.

and horses don't get that. horses don't know why a trophy is a good thing. horses prefer carrots to trophies. at the end of any given horse race, i'm pretty certain that the first place horse and the last place horse both get fed and enjoy it just the same. neither feels glory or shame. they eat, poop, and follow blindly to the next place where the people who domesticated them like them to run real fast.

fortunes are made and lost on horse racing. people either sing a horse's praise or curse it dead. either way, that horse doesn't care. horses don't know about your crippling gambling addiction. horses don't know about your mortgage or how you were gonna spend the winnings on an awesome birthday party for your six year old. any and all pageantry has been added on by our imaginations. your fortune lost, all because collectively we imagined this thing together. bummer.

so next time you wanna give someone a trophy, or throw around a hefty sports related accolade, give it to someone who at the least can show some form of appreciation in return. what good is throwing greatness around if it can't be claimed? how can athletes like tom brady or lebron james be expected to sleep at night if they know no matter how hard they work for a goal they're absolutely conscious of, they'll be defeated by a majestic creature that will show the ultimate indifference in the end?

an underground music paradox

i have a tendency to enjoy bands that have smaller followings and play smaller venues, the bands that not everyone knows about. they're usually a little bit underground, but not too underground that they can't get their gigs on to ticketmaster.com. it's always sorta been this way and sometimes i can't help but wonder if it's the music that draws me to them or is it my personality that draws me to lesser known acts?

i'm pretty passionate about the music i listen to. when i discover a band, i get all into their complete library and drown myself in their material. i feel pretty secure in saying that i don't force myself to like certain bands for any reason other than it sounds good to my ears. and i'm sure a certain part of it has to do with me discovering new bands through the bands i already like, whether it's because they tour together, share a label, or pandora tells me they're similar. it's no stretch to figure that any band i learn about through this method would be on a similar level of fame as the band that drew me to them in the first place.

but sometimes i wonder if the roles were reversed and it was the bands that were on the radio that tour the nation via sports arenas switching places with the bands i love to go see live, would my tastes change? am i more prone to enjoy a band because i can see them at a venue like irving plaza in nyc where it's small enough for me to feel like i'm really in the same room with the band? when it comes to checking out live music in arenas (or stadiums), i can't help but feel separated from the band on stage. it feels more like a televised event than a live experience. the prices are usually more outrageous as well. i'll always feel closer to a band when they're able to offer me the opportunity to see them live at a reasonable price.

i like to think if bands like nickelback and mumford and sons toured smaller venues, i'd still have no interest in seeing them and my opinion of their music wouldn't change. but if a band like rancid forced me to see them in an arena for $60, would i still go? i'm not certain i would. i like to think i'd still like rancid, but it probably wouldn't be the same because i wouldn't have intimate live experiences to back up my passion for them.

so i suppose bands that aren't as famous and have to resort to smaller venues have an advantage in getting me to be a fan of theirs. i won't see just any band because it's affordable and intimate, but i'm also way less likely to invest in seeing a band live in a large, expensive setting. and there's a part of me that feels selfish for that. i'm glad a lot of my favorite bands aren't famous enough to sell out arenas. i'm glad not everyone is into them. i'm glad most of the bands i enjoy don't get airtime on the radio. it's because of these factors that i'm able to see my favorite bands in smaller, awesome venues. but i'm sure that's not so comforting for the bands in question. i'm sure most bands would like to get a taste of that worldwide, arena tour money. and if they were able to make the leap to that level, i'd be less likely to see them but that'd be more than okay for them. someone would take my place and they'd find themselves making a lot more profit.

i'm well beyond the age to accuse bands of "selling out." in the end, we all gotta make a living. if the chance comes that you can make more money doing something you love, why not make it happen? i'm more of a "sell out" than any band. i go to a job where i don't do what i love for a living. who am i to judge what a band does or how successful they're allowed to be?

and yet, knowing all this, i still can't help but wonder that if the whole music universe did a giant flip flop, would i still be a fan of the bands i'm a fan of now? i don't think i'll ever know for certain. i just gotta keep bopping my head to the music and hoping that the experience is completely honest, devoid of any other factor besides how much pleasure the music brings to my ears.

leave lebron james alone!

or don't.

hey, i get it. i was on the hate wagon a few years back. i couldn't stand the idea of the greatest player in the game turning his back on a perennial underdog city such as cleveland to go make an all star team with his buddies in the miami sunshine. lebron james decided to bring his decision to prime time tv effectively breaking the heart of an entire city in front of millions of people.

but time heals all wounds and i got over it. lebron james is the greatest player in the world. as a fan of the game, i knew that, historically speaking, i had to sit back and appreciate the era of king james. over time i realized that if i kept my hate torch lit too long, i'd grow into one of these old sticks in the mud who talks about how much he hated the greatest player in the game in his prime. i just don't wanna be that dude. i wanna enjoy this. why else am i a fan of the sport?

and i thought for the most part, a lot of fans were a lot like me. they let their lebron hate subside and they sat back and decided to live and let live and enjoy the game again. but then the 'ac game,' happened, game one of the spurs/heat finals in san antonio where something went wrong and the arena's air conditioning system stopped working. throughout the game we were given temperatures to explain how hot it was in the arena and saw glimpses of fans fanning themselves... and then at some point late in the game, lebron caught leg cramps and had to sit out. and just like that, a big ol' can of lebron james hate was reopened worldwide.

as we await game two of these finals, fans have gone into a frenzy over lebron's legs. memes and tweets are coming from all directions taking jabs at the king. fans are questioning his toughness and using words like, 'weak,' and, 'soft.' comparisons are being made. what would jordan do? (the answer is: no one will ever know because jordan NEVER found himself in this situation so it's a moot point).

no one in the history of the game has ever found themselves in this situation. game one of the finals, the ac goes out, and now they're playing in a 90 degree environment. lebron james is the best player in the nba. no one's out there hustling or working harder than he is. no one else gives what he gives to the game. no one knows what it's like to be on that level because there's only room for one. no other nba player, coach, analyst, or fan can claim to know what to do in that situation. if your legs cramp up, you can't run. if you can't run, you can't contribute. no one else experienced this cramping probably because no one else was putting as much intensity into the game to begin with. there's only one lebron james and it's impossible for anyone else to fathom what it takes to be that good.

lebron james is a monster. he won't tell you that. and now that he let a leg cramp sideline him, fans will have a harder time believing it. and lebron james won't argue with you. he isn't one to talk much smack off the court. he's gonna let his game do the talking. all this hate is provoking a sleeping dragon who's gonna wait till he gets his next chance on the court to show the world who's soft. if i was any member of the spurs, i'd plead with the outside world to keep it down, don't make too much noise. if you've projected any negativity towards lebron james in the past few days, you're going to be partially to blame for the massacre when he decides it's time.

whether you love or hate lebron james, it really is just best if you leave him alone.

a company (5k) man

yesterday i found myself running with the rest of the cubicle prisoners. we were branded by our employers with t-shirts made specifically for this momentous occasion. we ran (some walked, get out of my way walkers) through parts of central park and at the end was the promise of water, bananas, and another t-shirt with the branding of, 'j. p. morgan,' the corporation behind this event, or as they entitled it, corporate challenge.

as i made my way through, i couldn't help but notice that i was surrounded by my brethren and yet felt so alone. why was that? here i am, finally surrounded by thousands of people who i share two major aspects of my life with, working in cubicles and a love for running (or walking, get out of my way walkers). but this isn't what or who i run for. i don't run for or because of my job. i run for me. doesn't everyone else? why have we decided to come together under these conditions? why do we take something we love, throw ourselves under a shirt that strips away what makes us unique, and challenge ourselves only to let our employers' brand name shine on the other side of the finish line?

when did i become this guy? i don't want your shirt. i appreciate the employment but now i'm on my time and i'd like to wear a shirt that screams, "JOSH!!" at high decibels. why did i think this would be fun? was it the free shirt? was it for the bonding that i ended up not doing? much like every other run of my life, i lost myself in my ipod and ran to my own handpicked soundtrack. that's where i wanna be when i run, lost in the middle of my own musical universe.

i don't need anyone else to run. i don't need companions, buddies, opponents, coworkers, or people that work in other office environments. this is about me and i'm selfish and demand all of it to myself. i'm not willing to share the glory. there is no team, there is only me. there are no trophies, no records, no fans in the bleachers. there is only me and my feet and the distance between then and now.

hockey hair

finally got around to seeing the movie, 'slap shot,' thanks of course to netflix. i just hopped on the netflix wagon a few weeks ago and so far it's been awesome. i think that's largely due to me being the king of, 'i haven't seen that movie.' this is a good chance for me to try to get caught up with any movie my peers shamed me for not seeing over the years. so far, anytime i scroll through my choices, there's definitely more stuff i haven't seen than have. 'slap shot,' was a lot like, 'major league,' in that i enjoyed, 'major league,' more than watching baseball and i enjoyed, 'slap shot,' more than most hockey games i've ever watched (to be fair, i haven't watched a bunch of them). i have seen a few exciting hockey games in my life, but for the most part i have a hard time keeping my interest peaked for the average hockey game. it also provides me with a new answer to the question, 'who is your favorite hockey player?' to which my answer from now on will be, the hanson brothers, duh.

i've been so reluctant to get netflix over the years because i feared it would kill my productivity. and yea, i probably could've done something better with my time today than sit around and watch a movie... but i can't beat myself up too much for slacking off. i've kept myself busy lately and i'm kinda tired. i think i needed a little time to slack off by myself. besides, i'm having financial issues. i don't have a debit card at the moment (reference my previous post for an explanation as to why), and the atm card my bank gave me doesn't work and i can't inquire about it till tomorrow. so i have no cash on me at the moment. i'm experiencing what it's like to be broke even though i'm not broke. so leaving the house was futile. there's not much i could do without spending a little cash.

i do cohost an open mic tonight at the wild rover in guttenberg so that'll be my getting out of the house excursion. luckily it's close to home and i can pay my tab another day so cash won't be absolutely necessary. and it's a win/win because i get to keep my stand up muscles warm for another day.

i cut my hair today. i think it makes my beard look more fierce... like it suddenly seems to stick out more now that my hair's short and it doesn't blend in to it. at first i was a little on edge about how i looked and a part of me was seriously contemplating shaving the beard. but i think i got used to it over these past few hours and i think the beard will live on until further notice.

stuff about today

i have a cough. but just a cough, nothing else. no runny nose.no watery eyes. the cough is the only symptom i have. it's odd cuz when i get sick, it's usually more than that. i don't know if i should be grateful that i'm only sorta sick or if i should be miserable cuz sick is sick regardless. cuz being sick usually makes me miserable. it brings out the baby in me. but in a way, it also helps me appreciate life more... not life at the moment, but life when i'm not sick. when i'm feeling good, life's okay and having a persistent cough reminds me of that and leaves me impatient for the next time i'll wake up, "feeling good."

my bank cancelled my debit/credit card on me yesterday. i found out because my card declined at the vending machine at work. my bank called me  two hours after that to inform me that my information was included in some kinda fraud situation and they had to cancel my card immediately. and while i'm glad that my bank took swift action so that i wouldn't find myself a victim (it was precautionary. nothing was ever charged to my account), i'm a little unimpressed with their game plan after they cancelled my card. i won't get a new one for another 7-10 business days.

so this morning i wake up to find out my phone's been shut off because i have my account on an auto pay system that's connected to the card my bank cancelled on me yesterday. not wanting to get stuck not having a phone until my next debit card arrives, i decided to go to my local bank and get an atm card so i can withdraw cash and a visa gift card so i can pay for things online. i used said gift card to pay for my cell phone online but that declined at first. i had to call customer service to get it resolved which didn't take long, but still, the whole thing's been sorta annoying.

i was late to work as a result but that didn't matter because my job's a mess as of late and it's like no one even notices when i'm not around. i have to go out of my way to tell superiors i was late today. and it's not like i was trying to get one over on them. it's just that my phone was disconnected. i actually had no way to get in touch with them. so i just strolled in ten minutes after i was supposed to be there.

i'm sure there was some kinda karma in play though because eventually one of my "favorite" managers gave me a project at 5pm. i leave at 6:30pm. it's friday. at 5pm the office has pretty much gone on full slacker mode and here i was working on a project harder than i've been working on anything all week. i'm not mad that i have to work. i'm just mad that i'm stuck doing a project that probably could've been handed to me two days ago to give me more time. but whatever... i didn't finish it. i have to finish it monday. and i hate that... i hate walking away knowing i left something unfinished, but i had no choice. so i told myself that i can't leave work thinking about it all weekend. i gotta walk out the door and completely forget about the place.

lucky for me, i was on my way to tell jokes at a cafe in hoboken. stand up is a great distraction. i have to focus so much on what i'm gonna say, how i'm gonna say it, and so on and so forth. gotta have a solid plan before attacking a stage. just one of the many benefits of stand up comedy. semi-awesome thing happened during my set... i started talking about god in a not so flattering way, and the door of the cafe was open and suddenly you could hear the rain start coming down waaaaaay harder. if there's a man upstairs, he was heckling me. if that's the case, i guess that's sorta okay... it's a sign on a sense of humor. it's hard enough for me to believe in a god at all... i don't wanna think of the possibility of a grand creator of everything that doesn't have a sense of humor.

a running relapse

a couple weeks ago i quit running. not forever, but i was going to take a break. it was for all the wrong reasons and in hindsight it all seems stupid. but caught up in that moment, it made perfect sense. anyone who knows me at least semi-well knows that i'm a runner. i run frequently and i enjoy it. and yet, i had suddenly found myself in an odd mood that was a departure from the usual run-lovin' josh.

i got caught up in body image. i started running about six years ago, and about six months in, i'd started to hear people tell me i was looking skinny. sometimes people would tell me i was too skinny. i've even been called sickly a few times. i never let it get to me, ever. i always figured if i felt great and i felt healthy, then who cares about how others outside of this body perceived me?

but over the years i suppose it got to me. here i was spending a lot of time in gyms, surrounded by dudes with a lot more muscle mass than myself, wondering to myself that maybe i am supposed to look more like them. maybe i'm doing this wrong. maybe i'm running too much. and once i had collected enough self doubt to bury myself under, i quit running.

i was only gonna take a short break. i figured i'd quit for a bit but still keep up with my other exercise routines and the muscle mass would fly on. i'd look bigger and meaner and people would take notice and then i'd go back to running. then i'd be okay.

but as a few days of the new routine passed, i began to feel silly. i missed running. i missed what it was for me. every run was a test of my own inner strength. every run was a chance to drop everything and get away and come back stronger. every run was a chance to be in my own perfect solitude. even though i was still exercising, i still left lazy and incomplete... which is pretty much exactly how i felt the first time i lifted myself off my couch and went for my first run six years ago.

i'm a runner. i want to run until i die or at least until the point where my body won't allow it anymore. i hope i never find myself in this situation again because i felt utterly compromised by the world outside of me. it's my fault for not being strong enough to fight off the noise, but once i caved in, i felt like a hack, a sellout, a quitter. i don't run for anyone else. i do this for me. that's the way it's been since day one, that first day when i came back from a run out of breath and drenched in sweat and all i could think was, 'i can't wait to do this again tomorrow.'

i don't know if i'm running too much. i don't know if there's a such thing. maybe i am supposed to have more muscle mass. what i learned over the course of a couple weeks is that a lot of that stuff doesn't matter to me. i dove into a trove of internet articles. all i found were articles that supported all sides of any debate. if my research proved anything, it's that nobody seems to know for sure what's right when it comes to a fitness routine or a diet plan. but i do know this, i feel better as a runner. it makes me feel like a better and healthier person. it brings me a sense of satisfaction that i can't get anywhere else. that's all the science i need.

what's with all the facebook invites, josh?

every now and again i get a friend who keeps it real with me and tells me that i send out too many event invites on facebook. i've even had a person or two tell me that it's annoying. and hey, i get it. they manifest on your end as just another pesky notification for something that you're not interested in. it's basically spam to you. you don't use the word, "spam," but that's what you mean. if you had a junk folder, you'd forward it to that.

here's the thing... i'm a dude who likes to tell jokes on microphones in front of people. the more people the better. and that's where the invites come in. i really want as many people as possible to come out and be a part of the audience. i'm sure all other musicians and artists feel the same way. we're not trying to annoy you. we really wanna see your face in the crowd. if there's no crowd, then there's no art form. i'm also highly unfamous so it's not like i got representation or publicity of any sort. facebook's all i got. it's cheap and easy.

and yes, i click on everyone when i send out the invites. why? why can't i at least not include out of towners? because it's so much easier for me to blindly click on everyone's name then it is to sit and think about every single person for a moment. so yes, friends from california, you will from time to time receive an invite for a show in the depths of jersey that i don't expect you to fly in for. all i really expect from you is that you politely ignore the invite on facebook and move on (in my defense, i do sometimes try to seed out the out-of-towners but my method's not perfect).

and you're my friend right? that's the reason we're connected on facebook. or that's supposed to be anyways. if we're not really friends, and my constant invites annoy you, then maybe you should stop with the sham and unfriend me. go ahead. i dare you. facebook became this thing where we accept this connection with people we don't really care about and then get all annoyed when they use this connection to reach out to us. that's really more of a 'you' issue. unfriend or quit your bitching.

also, notifications. i know, some of, if not most of, you have your cellphone notify you of a notification the moment it drops. let me tell you what i do. my cell phone doesn't notify me of facebook updates. why? because i chose to turn that shit off. i'm not a slave to facebook. i utilize it often, but i go to facebook on my time. i'm not willing to jump on facebook every single time my phone tells me there's yet another update. free yourself from those social networking chains that bind you. if my invites annoy you for this reason, then i choose to see myself as a freedom fighter trying to set you free. i'm doing this for you.

i don't expect all of you to come see me perform live. i dropped those sorta lofty expectations some time ago. you think receiving my invites are annoying? let me tell you what annoying is. annoying is performing all these comedy shows in odd venues like bars and basements and not seeing any of your friends come out to support. annoying is going home after a questionable set wondering why no one comes out to support you only to hear someone say, 'ugh, facebook invites are so annoying.' i don't expect you to come out to my shows. i just expect you to not be such a whiny snot every time i invite you to one.

i hope i don't get fired for this post

let's say there was this company that you worked for. and you've been there for years. you've worked in a 4 person dept and the lineup hasn't changed in years... at least 5 or 6. and then one day you walk into work to find out that they're getting rid of 2 people, including your boss, because they have to make cutbacks. you still have a job. should you have gratitude?

i imagine you'd find it increasingly harder to take your job serious. i mean, you can bust your ass all you want, but if cutbacks need to be made again, it's obvious all that hard work doesn't mean much. you could be out just as soon as those other 2 who were just here a minute ago. and now you gotta answer to your old boss's manager and pretend that you really wanna fill in the gaps that will now be missing with 2 men down. but you really don't, right? why would you? succeeding in doing that will only make it look like they were justified in laying off your former teammates and you know for sure they weren't.

and then you'll think about your ex-coworkers. what it's like to be them right now. jobless. you hope they're okay. and then you feel bad. you like these 2 people and you don't wanna think about them in a struggle. and you're now at your job which is the same place that is responsible for putting those 2 people in a shitty position in the first place. and it's gonna be assumed that you'll just smile and move on and try real hard from here on out to be the best employee you can be. but it all feels like bullshit.

you'll deal with vendors and coworkers from other dept's who really don't care all that much that your buddies are gone. that you like them as human beings. that you miss them being there. they'll demand of you whatever it is they demanded of the whole dept a week and a half ago before this all happened. and you'll wanna scream and throw stuff at walls. and a part of you will think that's a good plan, cuz fuck this place, right?

because seriously, fuck this place. this place has just proven that your loyalty and hard work might end in a box to carry your personal belongings to your car. you're pissed. you'll walk into the office everyday waiting for upper management to admit they made a mistake, turn back time, and bring it back to how it was when you still sorta liked your job. they'll want you to forgive them. yea, any day now.

and you like security and comfort. and your job provides both of those for the moment. and you know that if you do something too crazy, it might be the end of all that. and as much as you wanna be the badass who doesn't give a fuck anymore, you can't help but just give a bit of a fuck. and you don't know why because fuck these people, right? and you'll feel like a bit of a sellout. you're trading in your time to come to a place that no longer meets your standards.

i'm glad i like music

i'm glad i like music. i don't know if that sounds stupid. it probably did to me yesterday. but today, today everything changed. today i  had an encounter with a dude who says he doesn't like music anymore. he's an older dude who overheard me and a coworker going back and forth about bands we like. and as soon as that coworker walked away, he grabbed my attention and said, "y'know josh, i just don't like music that much anymore. i used to. but now i don't." he then went on to explain himself, but it wasn't much of an explanation, just reinforcement of his original statement.

i hope i always like music. i can't imagine not liking it. i can't imagine a day i not only don't listen to music, but also a day where i could possibly listen to music and not enjoy the ever loving everything out of it. i don't wanna try to psychoanalyze here... but if you don't like music, at all, something's gotta be screwy with your soul (or whatever you wanna call that inner part of us you can't explain). or maybe it's extremely mathematical and has nothing to do with a soul. either way, something's wrong somewhere. it just doesn't seem natural to me not to like music.

and that helped me to realize that liking music is good enough. some people want to be scientists about music and get into the innards of it and memorize names and notes and that's all well and good, but you don't need to be a know-it-all to enjoy. don't get me wrong, you can be a know-it-all and enjoy it. if that's your thing, knock yourself out. but it's not necessary. i'm not sure what is necessary actually. i don't think there's anyway to truly explain it. it's like it defines itself. liking music is all you need to be able to do to like music. and up until a certain point today, i just assumed it was easy to do and everyone had it in them. but maybe i assumed wrong, maybe they don't. or maybe they do and they just lose touch with it.

either way, i'm glad i like music.

bill hicks, 20 years gone

bill hicks died 20 years ago yesterday. when bill hicks died, i had no idea who he was. at the time, i didn't even know he was dead because i never knew that he lived. now, all these years later, i can't imagine not knowing who bill hicks was. his legacy looms large in my own personal hall of heroes. he was more than just a comic to me but i'm not gonna sit here and write how great i think he is. a ton of other people have done that already. i'm just gonna share my own cluttered brain corner of bill hicks related thoughts.

my introduction to bill hicks is probably not one of the more usual ways one becomes acquainted with bill hicks. i was first introduced to him in a graphic novel called, 'preacher.' the main character, jesse custer, at some point ends up in a bar where bill hicks is telling jokes and his performance blows jesse custer away. i didn't close the book and immediately seek out all things bill hicks. but that was the moment the name got dropped and i made a note of it.

it probably took a few years before i actually followed through and checked any of his stuff out. there was no youtube at this time, so it still took time, effort, and/or money to seek out what you were looking for. and i was never one for exerting much effort. i constantly have a list of names of bands, comics, authors, and what have you, that i need to check out. i'm sure i'll get to them all eventually because i eventually got to bill hicks.

i dropped a bill hicks dvd in my dvd player and things were never the same. sure, i've seen/heard carlin and thought the world of his stuff. but there was something different about hicks. i can't quite put my finger on it exactly, but he was doing something with the comedy art form that drove me to dive into the deep end. hicks is probably the first dude i saw that made me think to myself, "i wanna be a stand up comic."

but sometimes being overly influenced by someone can be a bad thing. it didn't help that we have the same birthday (dec 16th). here i am, a dude who has absolutely no belief in horoscopes or anything like that and i suddenly wanted our shared birthday to mean something. i know it doesn't, but in the back of my head, i kinda want it to. the thing with hicks (or any comic) is you can't just get on a stage and be like him (actually, you can't be like anybody. i've found the hardest part of stand up so far is being yourself). even if you could, it'd be an insult to all the hard work he put in over the years to be as good as he was. you have to earn that the hard way. i can't get on a stage and hope that my best impersonation will somehow allow me to be as effective as he was.

so i took a break from bill hicks. i took a break from most stand up comics to try and break myself from the influence they had on me. and that was tough. i really enjoy bill hicks and i wasn't taking a break because i was tired of his stuff or because i thought it was bad or didn't enjoy it. i had to force myself not to watch, listen, or read hicks.

i'm a few years into the comedy thing now and i'm just sorta starting to enjoy watching established stand up comedians again. i feel like i have a better grasp of who i am which is good, because as a fan of stand up comedy, i missed it. that's why i got into it... i was a fan first. i wanna always be a fan. and i wanna always be a fan of bill hicks.

he is still tough to watch at times though.... only because it's so damn good. i'll still write some stupid joke here or there that i can't stand and i'll wonder why i wrote it at all and i'll try to use it and i'll be mad at myself for trying it and underneath it all, a part of me will think, 'bill hicks would never tell a joke like that.' i'm not measuring myself up to the man... but if he were alive, i'd like him to be a fan of my material. and that seems to be an intimidating enough thought to think.

lot of rambling going on here.... to try and wrap this up with a bow tie of some sort.... bill hicks made it cool to be thought provoking and challenging. he's probably the closest thing comedy has to a, 'rage against the machine.' as i attempt my own adventure into stand up comedy, i don't even like to mention the name, 'bill hicks,' because i don't want people to know i'm a fan. it's too intimidating. the worst thing a person could probably ever say to me is, 'bill hicks would hate your stuff.' and in some odd way, i feel like that's the biggest compliment you can pay a man and his legacy.

complaining vs. the internet

complaining used to be such a beautiful thing. sure, complaining can be annoying, but that's the point. complaining leads to change... usually. if you complain about something long enough, you're bound to do something to get rid of whatever it is that's causing you to complain in the first place. it's one of the great advantages of being a human being. we have this amazing ability to find something that bothers us, bitch about it, and then do something to change it. if the complaining leads to something being done, then i say no harm, no foul. it's a justified means to an end.

however, with the internet, complaining has taken on a different role. people find stuff that annoys them and then bitch about it on the internet (i understand i'm also guilty of this). you can find this sorta thing anywhere on the internet really, but especially in the comments section. and for some awful reason, every corner of the internet has one. as soon as people drop their complaint online, they walk away feeling as if they accomplished something. sure you have left your imprint on cyberspace with a finished tweet, blog post, youtube video, etc... but you haven't accomplished anything to change what you were complaining about in the first place. it's no longer about a means to an end. the complaining has become the end and that's no good for anybody.

in defense of kristen stewart's poetry

kristen stewart wrote a poem and recently shared it with a magazine and the internet went and did what it does best, destroy things with words. anonymous vitriol aimed at her poetic attempts can be googled easily. it's what we do. a celebrity tries something new, funky, different and we trash it. bloggers put on their know-it-all hats and tear her poem to shreds... cuz y'know, they were all reviewing poems before this ever happened so they know best what makes for good or bad poetry.

i'm of the opinion that most of the hate towards her poem is coming from people who don't know shit about poetry. they never reviewed a poem, wrote a poem, can't even give you a solid answer if you ask them the question, "what's your favorite poem?" if you're not into poetry at all, then you pretty much eliminate yourself from having any right at all to criticize anyone else's attempts at it cuz at this point, kristen stewart has proven that she knows more about poetry than you do just by trying to write one herself. you need to put your hate for 'twilight,' or whatever else it might be that she did that bothers you, and put it aside. you're not an expert at poetry, you're just an expert at not liking kristen stewart.

and applaud yourself if you own that expertise proudly. it must be great to focus your disdain at an actress in a world filled with real villains. whatever your grudge may be against her, is it so unbearable that you're proud to be an anti-fan, a full fledged hater, a person who decides to use their tiny little corner of the internet to crap on any attempt she makes at anything ever?

the idea of some actress writing poetry doesn't hurt you in any personal way. you have a deeper issue that needs to be explored. maybe you hate her acting and that's gotta suck because it looks like the hollywood market disagrees with you. it's gotta burn that she gets paid millions of dollars to do something that annoys you personally. go ahead, keep on bloggin', i'm sure hollywood will put out a memo any day now saying you were right all along.

and maybe you just happen to be some kind of authority on poetry and you read it and genuinely didn't like it and to that i say, "good to be you."  not liking stuff is important. i don't like eggplant, i don't care how your grandma prepares it. but why do you need to write something tearing it apart and put it out in the world? you are a disservice to any and all forms of creativity and art.

even if her poem wasn't up to your standards, at least she tried. trying is important. people need to try things... especially creative things. the world needs more art. you shitting on art is the enemy of art. someone somewhere will read your harsh assessment of her attempt at branching out and expressing herself in different ways and think to themselves, "fuck, i don't wanna try to write poetry ever. i'll probably suck at it which will lead to people saying mean things."

what we should be doing is encouraging more poetry, more writing, more expression. when you shut it down on your choice of public forum, you're sending a message that if you're gonna try at all, it better be good. but what you fail to realize is that when it comes to most, if not all, forms of art, people need to write, paint, create sucky stuff first to get to the goods. the best artists all created something that sucked along the way (not that i'm saying her poem sucked, but if that's your opinion, i'm not here to wrestle that away from you).

besides, poetry is totally subjective. there is no universal, 'good,' or, 'bad.' it's just what YOU like and what YOU don't like. it's a personal preference and you can't force your artistic tastes onto other people because we're all unique individuals and the world would be a totally boring place if we all were constantly in agreement with what you found to be good and bad.

odds are that if you had something harsh to say about her poem (or any poem for that matter, this is a universal thing that goes way beyond kristen stewart), then you're probably just some miser who has to share their displeasure with the rest of the world cuz y'know, misery loves company. that's why trashing things is such a popular past time on the internet. you're kinda part of the problem and the rest of us are waiting with baited breath for your first shitty attempt at poetry so we can all say, "hey, not so bad. keep at it."

saved by the ramones

it happens sometimes. i get home from work and i'm in a rut. i'm bumming hard. i can't even quite put my finger on what exactly is causing said internal crisis, but it's bringing me way down. that happened tonight. i squandered around my apartment, wrote shitty things on pieces of paper i'd later throw out and finally i went to my computer and pressed play. it was the ramones. it was exactly what i needed.

 the ramones are almost always a fail safe, go to maneuver to pick me back up. before i knew it, i was bopping around my apartment like a maniac, singing and raising my fists in the air. the ramones had delivered me one more time to my happy place. they're clutch like that.

i remember when i first really got into the ramones. it was around the same time in high school when two of my best friends were getting really into kiss (this was the 90's, not the 70's... guess it's kinda odd we all got on a retro kick of some sort around the same time) and i just couldn't get down with kiss. this was around the time kiss started touring again and they'd go see them and i'd never get in on that cuz i just wasn't interested.

lucky for me, my mom had recently received one of those, '12 cd's for $1,' deals that you'd get through the mail with columbia house back in the day. one of the cd's she bought was the ramones, 'loco live' (if you read my blog on a regular basis, you'll know that my mom has some awesome musical taste, especially when it comes to rock and roll). i "borrowed" that cd (borrowed is such a loose term. i'm 34 and live on my own and am certain that cd's in a stack somewhere around here. sorry mom) and listened to it incessantly. i was hooked from the first, "1,2,3,4." it was simple, it was joyous, it was loud, and it was something to raise a fist in the air and sing along to.

i consider the ramones to be one of the more important rock and roll bands of all time. sometimes we forget that this is all supposed to be fun... all of it. rock and roll, life, existence. sometimes we need to stop with the over thinking and the trying too hard. leave that for pink floyd (disclaimer: i love [roger waters era] pink floyd, there's a time and place for everything). keep it loud, simple, and fun... that'll usually get me out of any funk.

heroes for sale

my heroes are for sale. it was all over the superbowl last night. they are all their own people and they don't owe me anything. but sitting there, watching 'em peddle stuff on tv, it was a clear reminder that i should never allow myself to invest too heavily in heroes. if i want to set up my own standards in life, i can only hold myself accountable and can't measure others on how i think life should be lived. everyone's gotta figure their own rules out. 

i'm not mad at you bob dylan. you're in the business of selling cars on tv now and wasn't that one of your songs in that yogurt ad as well? you doubled down on yourself on superbowl sunday and i'm sure the pay out was significant. you even stared at a younger you on the cover of a magazine in said car commercial. it's like you knew (as you always have) that the critics would be there to criticize your decision so you gave 'em all the grand 'fuck you.' you know who you are and who you were and it was all our fault for thinking you were something you're not.

i'm not mad at you hulk hogan. when did you ever have integrity? you told me as a kid to say my prayers and eat my vitamins and that was good enough i suppose. you were a cathartic hero for a kid who just wanted to see someone slay the giant. you did all that a long time ago. you fulfilled the prophesy. so wear that yellow and red and let the world take notice as the pythons run wild all over us as they hold up products that can be purchased at your local radioshack... brother.

i'm not mad at the red hot chili peppers. maybe their performance was prerecorded. maybe the instruments weren't plugged in. maybe they only played a part of a song that was a huge radio hit damn near twenty years ago. play the hits, or in this instance, the hit. i don't know if this was a torch passing of some sort or just an easy chance to scream out, 'hey, we're still here and we're still a cooler alternative to listening to u2.' seriously... i fucking love the red hot chili peppers. and maybe what they did was good for bruno mars, who i personally think fucking killed it last night. i'm just sorta confused about the peppers role in all of this and would've much preferred a 4-5 song set of theirs where they cram one new one in there to the dismay of everyone but me, cuz i think the new album is pretty cool.

joe namath, put the fur coat away. can't you just admit that you got old? phil simms seems to be okay with it. way to botch the coin toss. also, get out of this blog post, you're not a hero. you're just the only quarterback to lead my favorite football team to a superbowl. 

hey muppets. i know, you're muppets. you always light up the screen and make things at least twice as enjoyable as they were than before you showed up. but i can't see the spirit of jim henson in all of this. i recently read that jim henson's goal when he created, 'fraggle rock,' was to end all wars. he may have been a little heavy on the idealism, but the world needs a bit of that.... it needs it now just as much as it needed it back then. i'd rather see electric mayhem put a single out with tom morello than attempt to use their groovy tunes to sell cars. don't be such a bob dylan.

much love and respect to the beastie boys. goldieblox had their big superbowl commercial. there was recently much controversy over goldieblox using a parody of the beastie boys track, 'girls,' and the beastie boys seeking legal action against them because of it. the beastie boys don't play that shit. don't matter what it is, even if the product seems wholesome enough. their integrity is not for sale. it's in mca's will. he lived and died on that principle. if you're looking for sellouts, i hear quiet riot comes cheap.

philip seymour hoffman's death and the cracking of the illusion of fame

philip seymour hoffman died today of an apparent drug overdose. he was famous, talented, well respected, and beloved. he was a man of substance, an attribute that is lacking in many of our celebrities in this era of internet fame. and yet that wasn't enough to keep hoffman away from needles. hoffman's fame could not defend him against whatever demons lurked inside that drove him to drugs. all the accolades and all the support of fans could not stop hoffman from making a dark decision that took him off this earth.

fame is not an end all solution to life. and some things are more important than being famous. for all the fans that will show their outpouring of love in the upcoming days/weeks/months/years, it will never be enough to bring him back. and i'm sure there's an inner circle, a circle of people who really knew and loved hoffman for who he was outside of just being a famous actor/director, whether it be family or friends, who would trade in all the fame and recognition just to have him back here with the rest of us.

fame won't make anyone invincible. it's important to have your shit together in life. it's important to seek out things like happiness and love. without the right frame of mind, we're all as susceptible to disaster whether we're famous or not. there's no shame in being unknown. the real shame is in not knowing the real joys in life. imagine not knowing love. that's shame. that's pain. that's a void that all the red carpets and needles in the world can't fill.

i don't know if it was a lack of love or anything else that specifically drove hoffman to drugs. i really shouldn't assume. but what i do know is that whatever it was, fame didn't stop it. fame wasn't enough. being famous is worthless if it can't stop you from destroying yourself.

who's super bowl is it?

where is this super bowl being held? if you look at a map and follow some basic rules of geography, it's not hard to determine that the actual game, the super bowl itself, will be in east rutherford, new jersey. and that sorta pisses some new yorkers off... cuz let's face it, if it wasn't for new york city, there'd be no super bowl in this area. nfl does their best to placate both sides by calling it the ny/nj super bowl but that never seems to satisfy anyone, because sharing is stupid.

i think the tribes should unite on this one. i don't think one gets the super bowl without the other and both sides own claim to it. even though it's not in new york city or state, the game will be played in the shadow of the towering skyline of manhattan. it can't be ignored. this is jersey's turf, but new york city hovers over it like a high roller at a craps table. that craps table belongs to the casino, but the current game, that belongs to the high roller. it don't happen without his money.

new york city is the money, the juice, the influence, the muscle. new york city made this happen. new york city just doesn't have a stadium of its own to have a game of this magnitude in. for years the state of new jersey has allowed two professional nfl teams to play here and refer to themselves as 'new york' teams. sure, that sucks... but we kinda let that standard become cemented over time. if you ever wanted to hoot, holler, or get your pitchforks and torches out, you should've done it some time ago. and even if you did, much like the super bowl, if new york city doesn't loom so near, is new jersey able to pull off the only stadium that hosts two nfl teams? 

and new york city, you need to get over yourself. new jersey's here. we're your neighbor. you play your football games on our dirt. show a little respect. you can't hog all the glory. that's just fucking rude. why can't you move over and share just a little bit of that spotlight with your ol' good neighbor, new jersey? if you're the best city in the world, prove it and be better than that. don't lay all the claim to a game that doesn't even take place within your state lines. new jersey knows without you, this isn't possible, but we still open our doors and deliver the hospitality. new york city, don't be a dick about this.

it's time to stop bickering and arguing over who owns this super bowl. it's time to share. new york city and new jersey need each other on this one. this isn't a competition. it's an event... one of the biggest shared experiences in this country. no one owns the super bowl. it's become so big, it's turned into an idea or a thing beyond words. it's not just a game or a day or even a weekend. and while new york city and new jersey belly ache over who gets to say it's "their game," millions will tune in from around the world. and the game's not possible without that. this game is as much theirs as it is yours and mine and peyton manning's. stop watering down the experience. hug it out and enjoy the show.

nirvana as a gateway drug

preface:  why am i writing about nirvana? hasn't enough been written? i don't know for certain and probably. if you read my blog a lot, and i'm assuming you don't, i write about nirvana and kurt cobain probably more than anything else. i'm just a really big fan. maybe it's because they're gonna be inducted into the rock and roll hall of fame this year. or maybe it's because i was sitting around the apartment and decided to give nirvana 'unplugged,' a spin. actually, that was probably it. so here it is, 'nirvana as a gateway drug.'

before nirvana, i didn't have excellent musical taste (i guess my current musical taste is still debatable but it's better than it was pre-nirvana by leaps and bounds). before nirvana, i owned cassettes by motley crue, poison, mc hammer, kriss kross, and vanilla ice. i was a musical mess. i don't even know what i was trying to get out of music back then. and then nirvana happened. everyone knows the story, right? video for, 'smells like teen spirit,' hits mtv. music world gets thrown into a frenzy. glam rock dies. michael jackson's career is never the same.

nirvana changed everything. i'm not sure why universally. i can only speak for myself. from my perspective, nirvana was like a first drug experience... not in a negative way. it's just like that first time you get high off of something and it hits your brain and you feel like you've never felt before and you don't know how to exactly describe it but everything's changed. after nirvana, my musical tastes changed drastically. i wanted to know about bands like nirvana. i wanted to know about bands that influenced nirvana. i started looking at my mom's record collection that included a lot of really good classic rock and thinking, 'holy shit, my mom's been cooler than me all along.' and just like that vanilla ice never got another spin on my boombox. that shit was for the squares, man.

like a pothead who's moved on to bigger and better things, i'll always look back on the first bag, the first drag, the first circle of friends where i learned that, 'puff, puff, pass,' was the rule... the first time i combined a case of the munchies with ice cream and my brain almost exploded in euphoria. that was nirvana. i just didn't know anything like that was out there before then. and ever since, i've been chasing the dragon looking for my next fix, eagerly anticipating the next time i'll press play and my soul gets shook down to its core.

right band, right time

i had once been told that i got into the band, against me!, ten years too late. true, i only became a fan after the album, 'white crosses.' by then they had found their core audience, made some epic albums, toured the world, and made some dynamic changes in their sound. this would definitely be a band that i wouldn't get in on the ground floor on. i'm not sure why or how i never found my way to this band until i did, but in many ways i'm glad i showed up late to the 'against me!' party.

i had seen against me! some years back at terminal 5 in new york city. i went without knowing anything of this band. all i knew was that my friend matt thought they were fucking awesome. i had a good time and the seed was possibly planted that night. but even with them right there in my face, i didn't instantly become the vociferous fan i am today. i don't think i even went home and youtube'd them. a part of me felt out of place that night. it's always tough to wanna sing along but you can't because you don't know any of the words.

around age 28, i was starting to become set in my lazy ways. i'm not a fan of classifications but if i could be nailed into one grouping at age 28, it'd be couch potato, pure and simple. everything about my life was rotated around a tv watching schedule. i also drank... a lot. i don't know if i was officially depressed but i felt sad a lot and i was definitely stagnant and in no hurry to try and do anything about it. i think the constant head buzzes kept me distracted from my sad life.

and then one day i got up and ran. i think i saw my exceeding beer gut as a sign of trouble ahead. i was lazily stumbling into a lifestyle and a future i had no interest in. so i found the best running gear i had available and tried my best to run around a lake at a park by my place. it was pitiful. i couldn't even make it all the way around without stopping four or five times. but i did it. i made it around once and i vowed to go back.

and i kept going back. some weeks i'd hit the park 2-3 times.... but as time went on, i found myself upping it to 4-5, sometimes 6 times a week. and i needed music. music kept me going. it was during this time that i downloaded against me's complete discography (i downloaded it for free, sorry AM!, i owe you guys and constantly buy tickets and merch at any/all of your shows), and started listening to against me! on my runs. and it worked. it was the right sound that kept me going. it made me wanna run. i enjoyed the albums so much, i just wanted to get out and dig into them more. soon running became my favorite way to take in music. there was nothing else to concentrate on except myself and the sound. it was (and still is) beautiful.

years have passed. i've grown to love a certain amount of bands and definitely have a specific attachment between certain bands and running (in particular: atmosphere, the bronx, h2o, rancid, opivy, bouncing souls, and minor threat). but none of these bands have ever hit home quite like against me! does. they're the soundtrack of my revival. i feel like a different and more awesome person today. running had a lot to do with that. the music i started listening to also plays a major part.

my attitude on a lot of different things in life has changed dramatically. i'm more aware of what i want out of life and i'm more actively chasing dreams and trying to accomplish goals. i read and write more. i watch way less tv. i drink less. i eat better. i feel better. i fucking care. that may be the biggest difference. at age 28, i had hit my peak level of not giving a fuck, to a point where i was starting to not give a fuck about myself or my life. but now i do give a fuck. a part of me was awakened and i'm so much more alive because of it. when the alarm went off, i'm pretty sure it was against me!'s, 'walking is still honest,' that finally forced me out of my dismal cocoon.

i'm going to see against me! live the next two nights of my life. to say i'm stoked is an understatement.

making you think you're crazy is a billion dollar industry

whenever you're feeling odd or out of place or the world's got you thinking there's something wrong with you, just remember that there's a whole lot of people that make a whole lot of money off of that notion. the more people feel like they don't fit in to the point that they seek some kind of help, guidance, or material possession for it, the richer some people get. they're selling you your own inadequacies for their own personal gain.

so fuck 'em over and be weird or odd or strange or whatever you are. just be you. don't let them furnish homes off your insecurities. it's not you that's out of place. it's this idea of a mythical place that all these companies try to build in your head to make you feel like you don't belong. it's not real. the only thing you don't fit into is their illusion. it's a scam.

look, you might be crazy. maybe all human beings are crazy. we're a crazy fucking species. there's no reason to feel like you're the only one who's feeling like that. if we all just stopped for a second and realized that feeling out of place is a pretty common feeling, maybe we could break out of this molding that they've tried to keep us inside of with advertising, drugs, and manipulation.

drugs and dressing like everyone else and self help books on how to fit in will not make you normal. it'll make you less you. it'll rob you of whatever it is that makes you unique, makes you awesome. they don't want to fix you. they don't care about your self esteem or your well being. all they care about is your money. they're wrong about you and hopefully one day we'll all understand that and watch as their castles made of sand crumble.

(the title of this blog post is a sage francis lyric)

and this bird you cannot change with a new year's resolution

for new years we come up with resolutions to better ourselves. on christmas we're expected to be nicer to one another. on thanksgiving we're supposed to show gratitude for things. i suppose next they'll expect us to be more loving to our significant others on valentine's day. with all these holidays imposing on us what to do, when do we ever have a chance to just be who we are?

are we all horrible people in need of several days a year to remind us to try and be better than what we actually are? maybe we're chasing something that's not possible. maybe we're all just looking for ways to hide who we really are... which might help explain some of the popularity of halloween (although i'm sure candy and slutty costumes factor in there somewhere).

i think it's great that tons of people resolve to better themselves this time of year. but i can't help but feel like a good portion of it is totally insincere. it feels like some of this may be a case of mob mentality. if everyone else wasn't doing it, would you? or would you allow today to be like any other day because technically that's all it is... just another day. we put labels on the days and we try to fill them with this imaginary sense of worth but if you strip the titles away from the holidays, it's just another 24 hour period.

if you're feeling the spirit, then by all means, go be a better person and go love your girlfriend more and be a patriot and remember the veterans and do all these things that these "special" days remind us to do. but maybe do them everyday... or maybe don't do them at all. allow yourself to make today whatever day you want it to be. don't let the calender bully you into wasting a day acting how you don't wanna act. if you're a horrible person (or a great human being who's in need of no improvement whatsoever) and you know it and you know that this bird you cannot change, then fly on freebird and do your thing. define your day, don't let it define you.