I'm Writing this Sunburned

You know it's been a while, blog, when a website doesn't remember your saved username and password. 

That's what's just happened to me, and now I realize I've been neglecting my blogging duties. 

Sorry, blog. 

Happy 4th. 

I was thinking - just now, actually - that I would love to be one of those artists who draw courtroom scenes. That, or a jewelry salesperson for Home Shopping Network. (Yeah, right. Like I have the hands for those kinds of close-ups). 

I don't have the hands for those kinds of close-ups, but I may have the hands for drawing witnesses and testimonies, if I could cultivate the talent. Or learn it. 

I know that my pictorial representations would liken more toward caricatures, the kinds you find at Disney World or Busch Gardens; and I would ultimately draw the guy I felt was guilty with an evil top-hat, mustache, and cane. Or the guilty lady would no doubt be displayed with miles of cleavage and voluptuous hair. 

I like the idea of drawing courtroom scenes, it seems beautifully archaic, like cameras aren't invented in the world of the courtroom, so we have to rely on crayola's to get the point across. 

There's another health-minute on TV, telling me I shouldn't smoke. 

What, you believe everything you see on TV? 

P.I. Staker

Rabbit, Rabbit

With the summer months approaching (here, actually. Happy June everyone!) I find myself drifting to old habits. Some of them good, bad, and mediocre, I wonder if the saying "old habits die hard" holds even a kernel of truth. 

I'm starting to think that these proverbial "old habits" have a life expectancy that would shame my grandmother. And she's 87.  I say that knowing the guns will be drawn, because I'm implying that people can't change. I believe that people can change their behavior, but not the initial, powerful, gut-clenching reactions that directly affect our decisions. You can change the actions and the paths you take, but the initial leaning toward an "old habit" will never go away. I guess it's kind of like Inertia - that's it, right? Inertia? - an object tends to remain in the state it is in unless another force is acted upon it. So a ball will not move unless some dumb-ass kid kicks it into the street, and I will not stop biting my nails until I actively think to do so. The point is, the change is not a pure switch, it's a separation of wants and deeds. The wants can't be changed, but the actions can. 

.....But maybe, by altering the actions, the wants change to accommodate the physical routine. It's similar in psychology. When a person's actions do not line up with their beliefs, the beliefs are often the things that changes, not the actions. And that's because it's easier to change belief than behavior. Which is why if Mike Brady, as a staunch conservative republican, begins to attend communist rallies to get closer to a cute girl, his feelings about communism will change to match his actions. Thanks Psych 101.

The only problem with this reasoning is the fact that there is a difference between conscious opinions and subtle habits people aren't even aware of. Like how I turn my head funny when I'm watching a movie. I don't even know I do it until someone asks me why I'm looking at them. I suppose the difference is how ingrained the habit is in a person's psyche. If it's something they do subconsciously, something tiny that they aren't aware of until it's too late, it's probably a harder hand to shake.

It's all very confusing, but I think I'm doing pretty well, it being 3 AM and all. 

Hello bed, goodnight moon (and you). 

P. I. Staker

I fell asleep in the sun, had a dream for 10 minutes.

Things That Seem...

Dear Blog, 

What follows is a list, with explanations, of Things That Seem Like They Will Never Go Away. 

Ahem. 

•  Your Period. Does everyone feel this way? When that most blessed of weeks arrives, it is as if those 4-9 days last an eternity. And let's not even talk about the bitching that goes on. Damn. I suffer from this great affliction, but even I can see what a hellion I become. (Apologies, friends. I don't really mean it)

• That Zit on the Corner of Your Nose. It can only last so long. That one zit you can't seem to break. You pop it - well, hell. That doesn't do any good. You wash it, probably doing more good than popping that little bastard, but where's the instant gratification? Answer: You don't get any. 

• Bronchitis and/or the Flu. Maybe I'm not the best person to be saying this, but I can't seem to shake this cough. I had Bronchitis and/or the Flu a few weeks ago, felt like shit for a good half a week, and have been slowly "getting better", or so those torturous sirens over at the health center keep saying. Granny keeps on hearing me cough and telling me I need to go on medicine again. The only medicine I need is pac-man and coca-cola. 

• Diamonds. They're forever, right? I can't imagine a time when diamonds will not be a symbol (and sometimes the cause of) love, marriage, bribes, robberies, and devotion. When a lady is proposed to, what's supposed to seal the deal? The diamond! What's the cause of many funny sitcom episodes and scenes in romantic comedies? The bumbling fiancee buying his sweetheart too small a diamond on her wedding ring! (And what is a wedding ring if not a yonic? More on this later.) The oldest of robbers? The jewel thief! And what is the jewel thief after? A diamond! Always a diamond! Like Rose in Titanic. All that shit probably would never have gone down if her rich little fiancee had never bought her that diamond, "The Heart of the Ocean". She probably would have ended up in Cancun, drinking Margaritas with Jack. Let's just look at the diamond industry - or, rather, the jewelry industry. "Every kiss begins with Kay"? "He went to Jared"? All of these ads are vying for the middle to upper class male, trying to trigger some basic instinct inside his brain that equates presents with sex. They're trying to sell sex, of course. And, because sex (or the want of it, rather) will never go away, diamonds will never go away either. So just think about that the next time you watch Sweet Home Alabama, crying your eyes out while Patrick Dempsey proposes to Reese Witherspoon in Tiffany's. I got you locked between the eyes, Dempsey. I know your game. 

• Using "X" as the Variable of Choice. What is it about "X" that makes him so popular? From 5th grade until college, using "X" as the first variable is standard. Give me variable "G". Give me variable "E"! I'm finding some happiness in college, oddly enough, in physics, where no variable is "X". This throws me off intensely. I say I want a variable "E", but what I really mean is "I want to not be conditioned to only want the variable "X" ". Because that's what's happened to me, conditioning. And, aside from more conditioning, there's nothing I can do to combat this. Ironic, that. 
• Here is Where I Would Say Camel Lights...But... Never mind. They changed their formula (supposedly because that all-powerful "they" found pesticides in the old Camel Lights, and therefore had to make some changes to keep up the good ole' PR). 
• Going Home for the Holidays, Even if it Sucks Sometimes. Case and point? "Oh there's no place like home for the Holidays. No matter how far away you roam. If you want to be happy in a million ways, for the Holidays you can't beat home sweet home." Eh... Debatable. Sometimes. 

Well, there it is, blog. An updated list of Things That Seem Like They Will Never Go Away. I hope you had as much fun as I did. 

P. I. Staker

Communism on the Run

Dear Blog,

I had the best idea for a poem today and have completely forgotten it now that I have chosen to write it down. I'm drinking this tea concoction I made in the union. What you do, is you take a tea bag (preferably chai or that other kind of tea that has that slight orangey-cinaminomy twist to it. [CONSTANT COMMENT!- that's what it is!]) then go over to the cappuccino machine and pour yourself some "frothy milk". That's what it says, "frothy milk". Then, BAM, Chai Latte, hot at your fingertips, made by the best barista on earth - you! It's really tasty. I also have a chocolate chip pop-tart, toasted in the toaster, so things are looking up.

I've been kinda MIA, Blog, to you and my dear cousin (sorry about that, Your Highness). It's been all work and very little play for this Jack. Does that make me a dull boy? Irresponsible? Somewhere between dull boy and irresponsible? I'll take "famous irresponsible yet dull boys" for 300, Alex. Thanks.

Well, I survived tequila. And vodka at the drag show. And Mint Juleps at the Kentucky Derby. But it's been a rough go, despite all my fantastical adventures. I was reading Time the other day (oh, sorry. My beret just fell off onto my Persian rug that I bought when I anchored my yacht in "gay pari" so I've got to put down this pipe I made from the bark of the tree that Jesus was crucified on and pick it up. Sorry) when I came across an interesting article...

That now, I can't remember. Hah! How funny is that! I'm sure I had something great and profound to say, but, because I was not able to write this blog all in one sitting, will be gone forever. Forever. 

Damn. Foiled again. The Time thing I was thinking of was the spread they did on love. Something about it was really bothering me, but I suppose I'm over it now, as I can't recall what I was typing about. 

So. Fidel's retired. Quit. How is communism going to make the greatest comeback of all time with Fidel, it's greatest advocator, dead? Eh? When I think of Cuba being under communist rule, I don't think of cubans as communists. I think of Fidel as a communist and everyone else just minding their own. I can understand why he did quit, though. While he was ahead and all. What was he, 78? 86? Something like that. I was watching TV the other day and saw this documentary, 638 Ways to Kill Castro. Count on age and assassination plots to hinder a man's dreams of becoming the oldest president/communist/thing ever. Although, Fidel was a bad-ass. According to Wikipedia, an ex-lover of his tried to smuggle some poison in a jar of cold cream, and, when he found out, he supposedly gave the girl a gun and told her to shoot him. She lost her nerve. I would have liked to have seen Fidel Castro ruling Cuba for all eternity, but that goes against some very hard truths. Only Death, taxes, and diamonds are forever. 

But there's still hope - Raúl Castro. Bring it on. 

Well, I've got the shivers. And Granny's coming in here to tell me to shut my curtains, in case a tornado breaks out my glass window. "That'll make it less dangerous and easier to clean", she says. Hmm. 

Love,

 

P. I. Staker

Tequila, Notas Para Tequila

Dear Tequila,

You harsh, harsh beverage.

Love,

P.I. Staker




Dear P.I.,

Grow a pair and learn to take it.

Love,

Tequila.

P.S. - Buy some salt and some goddamn lime, you bastard.




Dear Tequila,

You bring out the worst in me.

Love,

P.I.




Dear P.I.,

This wouldn't be a problem if your worst were just a little bit better. As it is, your worst kinda sucks.


Love,

Tequila




Dear Tequila,

I will never touch you again.

Love,

P.I. Staker




Dear P. I. Staker,

Liar.

Love,

Tequila




Dear Tequila,

I guess there's no hiding it from you. See you next week?

Love,

P. I. Staker

Tequila

Dear Blog,

Bullshit. If I were loved the way I love I would never sleep.

Here is a poem I found the other day. I found another double tequila shot in my fridge, so I just took that. I have a headache now. Good news, though. This may mean my first hangover! I'm kinda excited about it. Like I've been missing out on something or something. Or something. O rso me thing. Or so me th in g,


Canción de Otoño en Primavera

Juventud, divino tesoro,
¡ya te vas para no volver!
Cuando quiero llorar, no lloro...
y a veces lloro sin querer.

Plural ha sido la celeste
historia de mi corazón.
Era una dulce niña, en este
mundo de duelo y aflicción.

Miraba como el alba pura;
sonreía como una flor.
Era su cabellera obscura
hecha de noche y de dolor.

Yo era tímido como un niño.
Ella, naturalmente, fue,
para mi amor hecho de armiño,
Herodías y Salomé...

Juventud, divino tesoro
¡ya te vas para no volver...!
Cuando quiero llorar, no lloro,
y a veces lloro sin querer...

La otra fue más sensitiva,
y más consoladora y más
halagadora y expresiva,
cual no pensé encontrar jamás.

Pues a su continua ternura
una pasión violenta unía.
En un peplo de gasa pura
una bacante se envolvía...

En sus brazos tomó mi ensueño
y lo arrulló como a un bebé...
Y le mató, triste y pequeño
falto de luz, falto de fe...

Juventud, divino tesoro,
¡te fuiste para no volver!
Cuando quiero llorar, no lloro,
y a veces lloro sin querer...

Otra juzgó que era mi boca
el estuche de su pasión
y que me roería, loca,
con sus dientes el corazón

poniendo en un amor de exceso
la mira de su voluntad,
mientras eran abrazo y beso
síntesis de la eternidad:

y de nuestra carne ligera
imaginar siempre un Edén,
sin pensar que la Primavera
y la carne acaban también...

Juventud, divino tesoro,
¡ya te vas para no volver!...
Cuando quiero llorar, no lloro,
¡y a veces lloro sin querer!

¡Y las demás!, en tantos climas,
en tantas tierras, siempre son,
si no pretexto de mis rimas,
fantasmas de mi corazón.

En vano busqué a la princesa
que estaba triste de esperar.
La vida es dura. Amarga y pesa.
¡Ya no hay princesa que cantar!

Mas a pesar del tiempo terco,
mi sed de amor no tiene fin;
con el cabello gris me acerco
a los rosales del jardín...

Juventud, divino tesoro,
¡ya te vas para no volver!...
Cuando quiero llorar, no lloro,
y a veces lloro sin querer...

¡Mas es mía el Alba de oro!

Mopping It Up

Dear Blog,

Today I got chastised by my dear friend Lizzy for the unnecessarily large amount of time between each blog post. I hate letting people down, especially my dear friend Lizzy, so here I am. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

Blog, why must things be so terrible? They say hindsight is 20/20 and I was thinking earlier that it's not time periods or a series of events that create us or our world or our character; rather it's one choice, one event, that can change everything very quickly. That is to say, you're going along with your life in one way, and then you make one choice - something as simple as choosing between a KitKat bar and a Snickers, and then your life has the option of going one of two ways. Because at that time, the time when you are buying your candy, you had the possibility of two roads, one left and one right. Then making that decision veered you into the way of life that you chose, and away from the one you didn't. And of course you can't go back to make that left turn. If you could pinpoint that one choice or event, which I can, and if you had the ability, would you change it? I can't imagine changing anything, because I can't imagine things going differently, though I know it's a probably possibility. I wouldn't change a thing, right? Not entirely. I'd change some things, I just don't know if it would do any good. Because you have to wonder, Blog, if fate plays a little bit of a part in this too. If that one encounter is what changed you - and I know I'm placing a heavy importance on one, small thing, but I think that's what it comes down to - if you managed to alter that encounter, would you just end up the same anyway? Would another thing happen - something that you couldn't foresee - that would morph you into the being you were trying to avoid, because ultimately your life is supposed to go down one general direction? That would make changing that one thing worthless. If you could go back and only buy the Snickers...

Well, it doesn't matter, really. Nothing can be done for the past, and the future seems too daunting to tamper with, though of course I'm tampering with it even now. I suppose you can't help but tamper with it. And if it did all come down to one decision I made during a ballet class in 2nd grade, well, I made my decision, and that's that. Period, end of story, good-day-to-you-sir. I guess I can't worry over spilt milk. Just try to mop it up.


Pleasantly yours (I promise),

P. I. Staker