sports talk radio

i've been spending a lot of time by myself lately. i can always gauge when i'm spending too much time in solitude by the amount of sports talk radio i'm listening to. it fills a void when i can no longer stand the silence. it's almost like a conversation, a good conversation at that. the people who host sports talk radio know their shit. they're not the meat heads that you meet at a bar and in convo say things like:

"so why do you not like the cowboys?"

"CUZ TONY HOMO!! (and then him and his 2 stupid friends erupt into laughter immediately)."

no, the people speaking to you on sports talk radio are extremely knowledgeable and they present their points of view  to you in a well mannered fashion (okay, sometimes stephen a. smith goes off the deep end, but the dude's passionate and i'm a fan). and this is when i know i probably have had enough of hermit time... when i start coming up with examples as to why sports radio dj's are better than people i'd meet in real life.

but it is what it is and sometimes i just wanna stay the fuck inside and not face the world. i have three radios in my house... bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen. sometimes i have all three going at once so i can move about my apartment freely and never miss a thing. this might be the most human interaction i'll have all day, might as well invest myself fully into it.

and it's sports talk. there's nothing offensive about it (although the whole penn st. thing was kinda a drag to listen to after while). i like sports, they like sports... it's a perfect fit. sometimes they take callers and it feels like another voice has been added to the convo. i may not agree with stan from queens, but he's entitled to his opinion that tebow starts by week 6. i'm glad he opened up and shared. i shouldn't confine myself to only listen to people who share my opinion on everything. that'd be close minded of me.

so sports talk radio, espn in particular (sorry if you're a wfan person. to each their own), i tip my hat to you and say thanks. sometimes when the solitude gets to be too much, you help to take some of the edge off. you help to keep me grounded in reality. there's a whole wide world of sports going on out there and i can tune in and listen to people talk about it any time i want.

panda bears

it's okay panda bears. i understand. i'm also hesitant about the idea of pro-creating just to ensure the survival of my species. is it really worth it? at least you're a panda. i'm a fucking human. this world is too good for my species. the best possible thing that could ever happen to this planet is the extinction of the homo sapien. we have the blood of mother nature on our hands. we can't wash that out. we tried, but the water we refuse to stop contaminating isn't effective in covering up the crime.

if nature is a woman, we're her pimp. and we're a mean pimp. we work that ho to her bones. we got her all fucked up on substances she never asked to be introduced to. she was so pure and innocent before we dug our vial claws into her flesh. now she cries in the night and swears her revenge. bitch says we have it coming and we laugh. we think that'll be the day. we think we got our ho in check. our prideful ignorance blinds us to the sleeping monster, the awful, ugly thing she can become.

mother nature doesn't want to be a woman. mother nature doesn't even want to be our mom. mother nature hates us all. she brought us into this world and has been repaid in never ending violence and disappointment. we call her mother, but her real name's monster. and when the time is right, that bitch is coming for us.

we'll have our day. mother nature's gonna show us who's pimping who. she'll wipe us out with the self satisfaction of a mother at the sight of her first born's birthing. she'll destroy us all to create anew. she'll have her planet back and will finally be able to start to heal.

the destruction and ending of my species is mother nature's greatest hope. it's okay panda bears. just imagine how that feels.

if i could fight one person....

i'd fight me.

i've seen you staring me down and sizing me up. i hear what you say about me. i know all about your ill will towards me. i know that in your mind, there's nothing more pleasurable to you than to see me fall. you want nothing more than for me to give up and lie down for the rest of my life. you'd love to silence me, to shut me up for good, to beat me down so bad that i never find the will to even try to get back up. 

you stalk me at my every move. you throw stones when i smile. you bite my hand as i reach out for contentment. you look at me and tell me i'm no good. i look at you and tell you that you're all that isn't good about me. you're the poison in my well. you're the enemy within. you're me and you're the biggest threat to my well being.

one day i'm gonna slam you to the ground and pounce onto your body like steel onto clay. i'm gonna grasp my hands around your throat and choke the life out of you. i'm going to stare into your eyes and ask you if you're having a good time. was it all worth it? every time you set me back and made me feel like less than i am... it's all lead us both to this moment. me watching you as you struggle for air, as your face contorts and changes color. i will watch you die. i want to know what the last breath that seeps out of your stupid mouth feels like on my skin. 

and when it's all finally over, i'll get up and walk away and i'll never stop to look back. i'll keep moving forward. i'll forget this ever happened. i'll burn the memories and scatter the ashes into the great blue sky. you'll be gone forever, completely removed from all existence, like you never happened.

blood suckers

yesterday, my legs were under attack from mosquitoes. my legs, from the knees down are now covered in mosquito bites. blood suckers. this is the price i pay for wearing shorts in a park outdoors. don't seem like much of a crime, but i've felt the punishment of blood sucking for a lot less in life and in many more painful forms. blood sucking is nothing new. i add the mosquitoes to a long list of every other blood sucker i have to deal with on a daily basis.

my government sucks my blood through my wallet. they take my taxes and spend it on things i don't want. they use my money to feed a war machine that i'm ashamed of. when i hear of missile attacks in foreign lands, or military operations that leave dead women and children in its wake, i know that i helped pay for that. i didn't want it but i got it. it's all mine. i am the unwilling owner of bloodshed and misery.

my job sucks my blood through my soul. my job is not the land of dreams. no one wished on a star to make it here. this is a place where people go when they're able to carve out a decent living if they're willing to put their passion aside. at least i'm still aware of this. i'm surrounded by drones who are brainwashed on wishy-washy corporate philosophy. empty words to help fill their empty souls. i'm not alone. it's not just my job, it's many jobs. it's a soul sucking job pandemic. we're told to be grateful for what we have as our souls bleed red onto the keyboards we maniacally clang away at all day.

large corporations swing gigantic axes too large for me to dodge. when the swipes come my way, i brace myself and walk it off. they swipe at my mind that they try to melt with an all out brain numbing, advertising assault. there's no cover, no protection, no shielding available. i am under a constant bombardment of companies telling me what's good for me and bullying me into a lifestyle i'm too hypnotized to realize i'm not interested in.

salesmen, politicians, and religious figures scream at me from hoisted pedestals. i figure anyone who can speak from that on high must know what they're talking about. their elegant deceit robs me of confidence in my own ideas. they cut deep into my psyche until i am left with no choice but to trade in my free thinking for their rigid salvation.

certain friends, family, and acquaintances borrow my blood in hopes that when it's my turn and i'm in need of blood, they'll be there to pay the favor right back. i don't mind giving you my blood but sometimes i get the feeling that i'm being taken for more than i'll ever be given. sometimes they need a lot more blood than seems necessary. sometimes i'm in need, and when i look around, some of the people who've taken the most in the bond of love and trust are no where to be found.

blood suckers come in many forms and are always on the attack. from the moment i was born, forces outside of my immediate existence have been after my blood. they'll chase my blood till it's all said and done. when i expire, they'll demand my debts, that i died to get out of, be paid in blood. they'll storm my funeral and shakedown my loved ones. they'll demand blood, anyone's blood. the blood suckers will never surrender.

and it serves me right, because in the end, i was a blood sucker too.

lottery tickets

i buy lottery tickets every tuesday and friday for the mega millions jackpot. i'm unloading hundreds of dollars in very small increments over a long period of time all so i can feel the hope... the hope to be made into a mega millionaire overnight, the hope to never have to worry about another bill in my life, the hope that my life can change in a moment's notice and that everything will be infinitely better than it is right now.

and although i fair a better chance of getting hit by lightning or dying in a car crash, i go on with it $1 at a time. y'know what they say, you gotta be in it to win it. i'm in it. i'm no sucker. someone won last week. they're no different than me. they were in it to win it. why not me? i'm not gonna miss out on this opportunity. i'm not gonna sit back and watch as they make millionaires out of everyone else. i'm a contender.... two times a week.

but what if i do win? i hate to even think about it. cuz as soon as it starts, things get out of control and my head becomes filled with the idea of things i can never afford. if i go on with the rest of my life without ever winning the lottery, i'll always have these images of what i would do with all that money to torture me and belittle me for my ever so average life.

i struggle now. i'm a member of the day-to-day working class who grinds it out from paycheck to paycheck. i speak my peace. i have my own ideas on utopia and how to attain it. i exercise. i read. i write. i try and fit as much life as i can into the spare hours i get when i'm not working or sleeping. i'm not ashamed of who i am or what i do. life is a struggle but i can handle it. i'm not giving up. i wake up everyday with a sense of purpose. i look to burn my imprint into life. if i bleed, sweat, and cry, i keep focus. i don't wanna be just another dude getting by, forgotten with the dust. i want you to know i was here.

and what if that all stops the moment i win millions of dollars? what if i get soft? what if i feel like now that i finally have enough money to be comfortable all the time that i'll do just that? i'll go out of my way to make sure i'm never challenged or stressed out or over burdened. i'll surround myself in an environment where tears, sweat, and bloodshed can't find me. i'll create my own multi-million dollar delusion and tell myself it's okay, i was in it to win it. i deserve this. i have the right to these millions of dollars. i have the right to stop trying. the struggle is over.

i hope my hunger to make noise doesn't disappear. i hope i can enjoy the sudden riches but still see through the bullshit. the world's still a cold place that needs a lot of improving. people are still broken. i may be okay, but that doesn't make it okay for me to ignore the plight of the world around me.

if i ever win the lottery, i hope it doesn't change who i am. i hope i don't become selfish and clueless to the world around me. i hope i don't lose touch. i hope that all the words i've ever let fly out of my mouth don't suddenly drop to the floor, deflated and meaningless.

one foot in front of the next

i find myself oddly inspired by death as of late. it's sorta a grim concept but i can't help but look at death and think about my own life and how it's like a clock ticking away. death is this ultimate reminder that no matter how much time i get, it's finite and the brink of nonexistence gets closer as the moments roll on.

i attended the wake of a 23 year old friend not too long ago. and i walked out of there thinking all sorts of crazy shit. the first and most obvious thought that crossed my mind was what a robbery of a life. 23's too young to go. but then i started thinking about my own life. i'm 32. i already got 9 bonus years from 23. and what the fuck have i done with it? i'm not gonna say nothing at all, but i've wasted enough of it to know that i haven't exactly spent the time optimally.

i've settled for less and compromised my vision in life. i've spent a good portion of my life playing the role of your good buddy. and i'm not blaming this on anyone but me... but i've sacrificed a lot of myself to be well liked by everyone else. i've overdosed on the golden rule. i've gone out of my way to make sure that everyone thought i was a nice guy.... except for maybe my ex-girlfriends... they've always gotten the brunt of my other side, the repressed side... the side that's bitter about being stuck in the stupid buddy role when i want so much more. and it's women who i've shared relationships with who are the only ones i've ever felt close enough to act any other way than as your fake buddy.

and i'm not justifying me being an asshole to women. that's not fucking cool at all. i'm also not letting all of my ex's off the hook either. some of them were capable of epic bitchness for sure... but i can look back now and see the err of my own ways as well. i've definitely been no saint.

but this isn't about relationships. this is about me. i need to stop with the bullshit. i need to stop living the lie. i can be a nice guy to a degree, but i gotta drop the routine when it interferes with my path and where i'm trying to go in my life. i'm gonna do and say some things that piss people off. and so is everyone else. it's part of existence. me going out of my way to try and avoid that is ridiculous. no one's gonna go through life without angering people.... probably lots of them.

and i'm not gonna wake up tomorrow a total asshole either. i'm just gonna be more honest. there's stuff in my life i'm not happy with. and sometimes i think i can fake it and keep trudging forward and tell myself, 'well, that's just how life is.' but that's settling for something that i think i'm more than.

i wanna sit around less. i wanna be a person of constant movement, always on the go, always doing something, always writing or reading or speaking my mind somewhere. always trying to figure out what's the next step... one foot in front of the next. just keep moving them fucking feet.

cuz one day i'll be old (i assume, anyways. nothing's for certain). and i don't wanna be the normal old dude. i still wanna be on the move. i still wanna be going at the pace of one foot in front of the next. there's this dude at my job who could retire but he won't. he thinks if he retires, he dies. he keeps going, one foot in front of the next.

in short, that's what i think of lately when i think about death. it inspires me to keep going, don't stop, no rest, one foot in front of the next.

"hey! slow down! you're making me look bad!"

the rain finally broke at the beginning of my eighth lap around the lake. it was glorious.

the heat and humidity beat down on me for the first seven laps. an eight mile run is hard enough in perfect conditions. all i could do was try and grind through it, rancid blaring though my headphones the whole way. the music was my soundtrack. the plot reaches it's climax when i, a dude who hardly believes in a god or any form of higher power, wishes he could somehow pray for rain.

not that this would be some miracle. storm clouds loomed over in the distance the whole time. i watched them, hoping they'd come closer. they took their time and at some point i told myself to not count on storm clouds to get me through today. i was gonna do all ten laps i had set out to do whether the rain came to cool me off or not.

there was something so awesome about that moment when the rain began, when it started to pour down hard. when i looked around and saw the look on people's faces... the people that came out to the lake to chill out and enjoy the sunshine. it was a look of disappointment and surrender cuz they knew the rain had finally come and it was serious about ruining their fun filled outing in the sun.

it's not that i get joy out of watching their days get ruined. but one person's storm cloud is another person's oasis. people disappeared and i soon felt alone as i ran around the lake... just me, the geese, and the storm clouds that had finally decided to make their presence known.

i encountered a few other random people as i looked to finish up my last three laps. the only one that stuck out was an older dude, if i had to guess his age, i'd say in the 55-60 range. he was running at a slow pace, maybe as slow as someone could possibly run. but he was putting in time. i lost exact count, but we were running in opposite directions and i crossed his path at least five times.

the first couple of times we passed each other, nothing was said. we passed each other in silence. this is customary for me. i consider it the status quo of runner etiquette at the lake. i don't say much to other runners. sometimes there's a shared head nod... i guess to acknowledge to each other what awesome human beings we are for running.

then around the third time we ran past each other, he gave me the thumbs up. cool. i gave it right back. i appreciate that. i like some runner camaraderie. every now and then i'll encounter things like this. i'll run past another runner and they'll say something semi-inspirational like, "keep it up!" and i'll throw something right back at them like, "we're better than everybody else!" (okay, i've never said that, but i should). one time i ran into a friend who was also running at the lake, and she went for the high five. that was awesome. that's probably the closest i'll ever get to the feeling of winning at team sports.

so the next time the older dude runs past me, i throw him the thumbs up first. he gives it right back. and now we have a bond. the next time i saw him, the rain had already started. he seemed to be in total 'who gives a fuck mode' and had his shirt off. it's pouring as we're about to cross paths. i yell out at him, "best weather we've had all day!" he chuckles (i don't know if it was funny, but he's a cool dude for throwing the chuckle out there regardless).

next time i see him is the last time. i'm on lap ten. i'm ready to call it a day. he says to me, "hey, slow down! you're making me look bad!" i said to him, "you gotta keep it going! i'm finished! this is it for me." shortly thereafter, i finished lap ten and walked home in the rain.

i wish i had said something better in response to him. i wish i told him that i can't possibly make him look bad. i wish i could've told him how much i respect him for being out there, much older than me, and running many laps, not letting the rain stop him. i couldn't possibly make him look bad. he's making a former version of me look bad. 25 year old josh would be embarrassed by this dude. 25 year old josh didn't have much hope of looking into the future and seeing himself as a runner in his 50's. in this moment, there's no one awesomer to me than this old man. cuz when i run past that old man, i hope i'm running past me. i hope that when i'm in my 50's, i'm still out at the lake doing laps... in the rain no less. putting in time and exhausting myself and still with enough resolve to throw thumbs ups and words of encouragement at other runners.

if i slow down now, i'll never be where you are. you're an inspiration, a reason for me to never slow down. i know he said it jokingly... but i got nothing but admiration for the older runners out there. there's nothing that looks bad about an old dude who's still got it and who's still invested in himself enough to go out for recreational runs. look bad? no way old dude. you're much too awesome for that.