January 28th: Never Trust a Manager

You may recognize the title of this post as being the exact same title of a song that the Rackatees released on their split 7" with the Shidiots of Omaha, NE, but I doubt it.  If I need to explain the title, then there's really no hope for the human race after all (probably isn't anyway). 

I decided upon this title as an attempt to somehow direct my flow of consciousness for this post, because that's about all that I can hope to accomplish as far as writing goes--to grab hold of the cartoon fire-hose that is my squirming brain and just hope for the best as it sprays its contents wherever it may.  On with the show.

I mentioned earlier that I got a new boss at work, as if I asked for one.  I'm simply thankful that I work the nightshift and won't have to worry about crossing paths with this person past 5 o'clock.  That's 2 hours of faking it, and them I'm more or less free to work and fuck off at my own leisurely pace. 

The problem with this person--who shall obviously remain anonymous, I'm not a total idiot who'd risk getting fired over a stupid blog post--is that they still believe in all of the shit that got them through high school and college.  The whole "are you a winner, or are you a loser" speech illustrates this pretty well, I'd say.  Come on dude.  Jesus.  Are we adults here, or are we teenagers?  Is this a fuckin' job, or is this football practice?  Because I don't know about any of you, but when I'm at work, I'm doing--at maximum--what I'm paid to do.  I am not here to "succeed", just here to make enough money to pay the bills I've got to pay and to have enough left over to drink with.  People like this scare me, not because they intimidate me, but because they seem so fucking fake that I'm honestly in disbelief that these sorts of people run shit.  It's like Vonnegut said, and I'll paraphrase: true terror is when you wake up one day and realize that your graduating class is now running the world.  This person is what the captain of my high school basketball team would be like if he hadn't have knocked up his girlfriend his senior year then gotten locked up for writing fake checks, gotten out, and found himself back in rehab for a pill addiction.  At least that guy is (was?) real.

Rant finished.  Thanks for reading.

P.S.- It looks like I will most certainly be traveling to St. Louis, MO to hang with a bunch of my punk rock music buddies.  Should be a rad time.  I will be sure to report in, probably this coming Tuesday, on all of the shenanigans.  And there will be pictures!  I'll be posting this tasty dish here on the Letters Home page of this blog for your enjoyment.

It is 11:30, friends.  I need to clock out and get drunk ('cause I'm a loser apparently, not a winner).  Ciao!

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January 26th, 2016: A Reaffirmation

It is a new year and I am back.  I would've closed that stupid greeting with an exclamation mark, but I am trying this new thing where I tone down my writing to reflect my usual state of being nonplussed (that's the 2nd definition in the Oxford Dic., not the 1st.  Unconcerned, in other words) by most situations encountered in my daily life or that I read about in the news.  Hooray for less bubbly prose.  Also, you may notice that I've altered the appearance of this blog after my seven or so months away.  I like to think of the new color scheme as being reflective of typewritten words on smoke stained paper, as though I were somehow a participant in the last great generation of American writers, which I am not.  Great, that is.  American, yes.  And that era is dead anyway.  This is the new media, and we are its slaves... ahem... I mean its pioneers.  I did keep the frothy beer in the background because I'm an inebriate by nature.  True, it would've been better if it was a bottle of middle-shelf whiskey with a few fingers missing, but I'll take what Blogger gives me until I can finally get off my lazy ass and take a picture of what I prefer.  And I'm rambling.

Now that that clumsy introduction is done with, I can announce my declaration of intention for this new year.  Here goes:  Write more!  Fuck, an exclamation mark! 

But seriously, I intend right now at this very moment to write more and for much of that writing to be present here.  There's still time for that to fail miserably, of course.  One never knows when one will be waylaid by a bout of clinical depression or find oneself sidelined by the ever more epic bender, now does one, now does one (there's a little play on some David F. Wallace for any hardcore lit nerds who might actually be reading this)?  I may also start to include photographs if I can muster the personal motivation to take my phone out of my pocket a snap a few.

And this year has gotten off to a fair start.  I've choked down a testament to self-loathing in song form, another testament to abhorrence of the local music scene here in Lawrence, KS also in song form, and my band The Rackatees--aided by our constant photographer/videographer companion Jake Gill--are finishing up a cinematic music video which stands as a testament to the Noir genre of literature a la Raymond Chandler... and booze.  Mostly booze.  A lot of booze.  More on that to come in what I'd imagine will be my next post.

Moving on.  With the change in appearance of this blog, I'd also like to welcome a change of tone.  Say hello to the change of tone, everybody!  Stupid.  Anyway, I'm going to fill this thing with even more failure by making it something more of a music journalism blog and do my best to cut out the political rage.  I know, there's plenty of music journalism blogging going on out there, and this is kind of a cheap shot for me, but that's life.  Just accept it.  I have.  And I'm sure that much about my boring exploits in this quote/unquote life that I quote/unquote live will make it on to these pages.  And yes, I could've stuck with the very literal eye-sore of the green/white color scheme, or maybe utilized an "edgier", Hot Topic inspired scheme to convey this change, but fuck that.  I like the colors and they're easier on my old eyes which by this point will probably be filmed over with cataracts in 20 years or less thanks to my job as a typesetter. 

That's still a thing, by the way.  I'm still setting type on the night shift.  Things are dead around here, allowing for the night desk to remain open and functional for now.  I got some new coworkers, only one of which grates upon my poor consciousness daily, and we all got a new CEO who's leadership philosophy apparently comes from watching Monday Night Football.  Highlights from his Meet-n-Greet speech:  "So, are you a winner, or are you a loser?"  Had to really bite my tongue during that one.

2016.  Shaping up to be another year I'll hardly remember.

Cheers, folks!

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