Agent Zero and Self Confidence

I'm going to tell you a story. There is a point to this story, so please bear with me:

Last year, in the deep trench warfare that was NBA basketball season, one moment stuck out to me and probably always will. The player was Gilbert Arenas, team the Washington Wizards, opponent unremembered (cause who remembers the loser, anyway?). There were less than ten seconds on the game clock and the Wiz were down by 2. Since Arenas, who will henceforth be referred to as Agent Zero, was the best player on the team, just about everybody knew he was getting the ball for the final shot. The play began, and the defense was obviously trying to keep Z as far from the basket as possible, which ended up being about five feet behind the three point arc. The pass, a defender in his face, the ball fake, the shot...seconds ticking away, slow motion. And here's the kicker...AZ turns his back to the basket while the ball is in the air, not needing to watch his shot go in, and raises his finger in the air to call his make. Of course he buried it, the Wiz won the game and eventually got to the playoffs. He continued walking off the court with his finger raised high, ignoring his teammates who were attempting to mob him, and walked calmly to the locker room. The epitome of cool, confident, collected, and professional. 

So what's the point? What does this have to do in any way with my life, or yours for that matter?

I want to be that confident. And I don't know how. I'm pretty sure it's something you're born with, like maybe Zero did that with wadded up paper in kindergarden long before he hit the hardwood. Maybe it's something you can learn, like those lame fucktards on the "Pick up Artist" show on VH1. I have no idea. Whatever it is, something vital is lacking in my life, and I need to find out how to get it. Any suggestions?

At least I'm not a drunk anymore, right?

High School Musical 4: Keep It Gutta

Quote of the Day: "At least a vampire's not gonna be eating my ASS tonight." Vicki, for no good reason, in a booth at the Spanish Moon last night while everyone was wild'n out anyway.

So I've come to realize something very fundamental about myself recently, and I didn't know how to really put it into words until this morning. My relation to women is very similar to the Texas Tech offense (just go with me here): it's totally a gimmick, opposing defenses know they're going to pass ALL THE TIME, but somehow they always score and win, or at least keep ballgames interesting. I guess we all have to figure out where we fit in, and it's taken me 24 years to do so...but I've finally got it. 

And I have a lot of fun...women like fun. I like fun. Works out, right? 

Anyways, it's been a really awesome and productive week. In total it's led up to this conclusion: I don't think we're leaving Baton Rouge after all. That's right...I kinda like it here. No explanation, just emancipation...Jesse would be proud. 

I'm a doofus.

Quote of the Night:

"If you're down with threesomes, then you're down with taking a sip right now." - Drew, while playing never have I ever, on the topic of multiple partner intercourse.

It's been a long, long time since I had one night go so horribly wrong and the very next one go so right. Almost makes me wonder if the wheel of life the crazy guy from "24 Hour Party People" was referring to is a chromed out Dayton rim, up and down in the blink of an eye. 

King Khan and BBQ were amazing. Hollywood Blues was amazing. Yall were amazing. She was amazing. I can't imagine how my night could have gone any better. Well, if R. Kelly had shown up, given me a duffel bag filled with $100 bill rolls, and the keys to his private Leer jet to do with as I please...that may have been better. In lieu of that, though, it was all pretty tight. 

Here's hoping for many happy returns...also, I may not be leaving the B.R. after all, depending on whether or not I have a compelling reason to stay. We'll see. You'll be posted.

A cold fucking rain is about to fall, and I'm glad I'm gonna be 90 fucking miles away when it does. I guarantee you it's not going to be pretty, or glamorous, or fun. It's going to be painful and shaming, the same shit that happened to me that I lived through and that made me better...only I'm not sure if you'll be able to handle it. 

I'm gonna quote one of my favorite songs here, and mess with it a little bit: I refuse to be your fall back crutch anymore. We could live beside the ocean, but you'd just start doing coke again, and I'd have to leave your ass, cause I don't need a junkie for a girlfriend. Sound familiar? I can't believe that lying mess that's been paraded in front of me as honesty for the past however long. How do you sleep, knowing that the one person who cares about you most of all is the one person that you're stabbing in the fucking chest every day when you tell him you're doing better? God damnit, I can't believe I fell for this shit again!!!!!!

But the silver lining is that I'll be moving soon, to a city that doesn't know me, where I can meet new people who don't have attitude/drug problems, and hopefully find a decent girl who deserves to know who I really am. Until then I'm gonna have to lay really low, for the same reasons that I didn't say this to your face: 1) you're always too wasted to listen to me or give a fuck to what I have to say, 2) I'm still in love with you, and every time I see you something stupid in my head tells me to forgive you and that you might change. That's not going to happen, so I just can't be around you. 

That's what's on my mind. I'd really appreciate it if someone who reads this wanted to give me some words of encouragement, or some words period. Anything would help right now. In the meantime I'm going to listen to Rachel's and hope that I fade to black soon and don't dream about this shit. 

Sorry.

Let's Do This!

I'm not a blogger. Of all the things in my life I refuse to do (which are numerous), I will not use the word blog seriously. I'm a writer, who just happens to use the internet to publish my material. I mean, I was on LiveJournal before blog was even a word...if anyone has the right to discard the terminology of the "tweens" (another word I detest), it's me. However, I was asked last night why I didn't have a site of my own, and realized it was a pretty good question. So here I am, buckling like a belt, "blogging". Jesus titty fucking Christ. I'm getting old.

But I've wanted something like this for a while. The past few months I've been itching to do something creative, anything. Baton Rouge has begun to sputter and fade in my mind, and I've realized that the world is too big and crazy and intense to go unnoticed by me. So, in light of this, I'll spill the beans...as of January 1, 2009 I'm going to be living in New Orleans. Yep, me. I don't know why it's taken me this long to decide on it. I've been unhappy with this infrastructure for a long time. I use that word because I absolutely love my friends here. There are a lot of folks who will be dearly missed, and frequently visited, and hopefully sporadically day tripping to visit me. Know that if you're a friend you're always welcome. 

So to accentuate the newness and excitement of it all, I've made this thing. Read it. 

Song of the Moment: 

Hello Seahorse! - Won't Say Anything