Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Friday, August 6, 2010
BLOG#9 A Punk at Heart
Today someone went through the trouble to make a whole new twitter persona just to send me some malware. The sad thing is they sent it to some 4 people. Luckily I have some moderate security. But for the many people that dont, it'll wind up costing them money.
Now I know I can be an asshole sometimes. But the punks that do this shit are the really sad excuses for human beings. First of all I have the right constitutionally to express myself as I see fit. If you don't like profanity then fuck off.Don't read my shit. And after reading some of the most idiotic crap thats veiled as comedy please, get a life. If being real is selling crap or self promotion then you spend too much time in front of the screen. That is the primary beef I have with younger cats today. No substance and way too much bravado. Make a phone call and actually speak with other people. Have sex with an actually breathing person. Not infront of he moniter while watching porn. Finally, go out to eat. Even if it's Burger King. Go out and speak to someone at least once a day. The kid taking your order doesn't count.
A good indication that you're not right in the head is if you tell someone what you did and they aren't laughing along with you. Mommy doesn't count. She's probably been telling you to go out or to get help for some time now.
Just like there are heroes. There are your average joes and janes. From there, there is a step or two down. Then theres you, the punk level. But don't be alarmed, there are two more levels down from there. Those levels are the true demented. Serious mental illness is rock bottom. Try your best to keep from sliding any further into ablivion. You don't need to fall any further. You may never be heroaric in anything you do. But you dont have to suffer in silence anymore. A punk can become a nice person. Or rather, can find social acceptance. There are 12 step programs all over New York that help punks deal with there illness. All you have to do is raise your hand and say "I'm a punk and I need help"! Let me make a call.
Back again, I just found out theres a punk anonymos meeting downtown in the village. Its in the back room of One Potatoe, Two Potatoe. 742 Bichas ave off of Greenwich ave. & little W.12 st.
See, you're already on the road to recovery. Even I want to help you. Theres nothing wrong with being a punk. Only not doing something about it is a problem. Well good luck with your recovery.
Now I know I can be an asshole sometimes. But the punks that do this shit are the really sad excuses for human beings. First of all I have the right constitutionally to express myself as I see fit. If you don't like profanity then fuck off.Don't read my shit. And after reading some of the most idiotic crap thats veiled as comedy please, get a life. If being real is selling crap or self promotion then you spend too much time in front of the screen. That is the primary beef I have with younger cats today. No substance and way too much bravado. Make a phone call and actually speak with other people. Have sex with an actually breathing person. Not infront of he moniter while watching porn. Finally, go out to eat. Even if it's Burger King. Go out and speak to someone at least once a day. The kid taking your order doesn't count.
A good indication that you're not right in the head is if you tell someone what you did and they aren't laughing along with you. Mommy doesn't count. She's probably been telling you to go out or to get help for some time now.
Just like there are heroes. There are your average joes and janes. From there, there is a step or two down. Then theres you, the punk level. But don't be alarmed, there are two more levels down from there. Those levels are the true demented. Serious mental illness is rock bottom. Try your best to keep from sliding any further into ablivion. You don't need to fall any further. You may never be heroaric in anything you do. But you dont have to suffer in silence anymore. A punk can become a nice person. Or rather, can find social acceptance. There are 12 step programs all over New York that help punks deal with there illness. All you have to do is raise your hand and say "I'm a punk and I need help"! Let me make a call.
Back again, I just found out theres a punk anonymos meeting downtown in the village. Its in the back room of One Potatoe, Two Potatoe. 742 Bichas ave off of Greenwich ave. & little W.12 st.
See, you're already on the road to recovery. Even I want to help you. Theres nothing wrong with being a punk. Only not doing something about it is a problem. Well good luck with your recovery.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
BLOG#8 Snitches get Stitches
Fuck it. Children and bitches should not be reading this. New York truths is an adult topic. Your kids should be better fuckin supervised.
Jesus Morales
is as common a name as Tom fucking Jones. But this scum sucking bastard took a vow in prison cause he needed fucking protection from getting that pretty ass of his rimmed while he was up at Clinton-Danamora State Prison. When you're there you are no longer in Kansas Dorthy!
Whatever his peripheral involvement he caught a body at 17. He more then likely played chicky on a burn and the motherfucker took his last breath behind some over zealous asshole. That is why you never take a piece of work with strangers. Too many over achievers out there and when the shit hits the fan they act out the conditioning of watching too much "48 Hours". Instead of learning "LAWYER" they get it stuck in there stupid minds that it is okay to confess to the cops.
I'm not trying to give you lessons in being a criminal. If you haven't got your head right by now, you are fuckin lost at the gate.
Here is abitch that did 10 years. Now he's been out for 10 years and he's still bragging about the dime he did upstate as though those were the best years of his life. I met the bitch in a methadone program and just know that he was playing a broken record. That and homeboy was still living with his mother. Living home is no issue if you are going through a slump. But if that is your primary then as a man you aint about shit.
The program didnt open until 8am. So if you get there at 6:30am you had to have a hustle! Turns out holmes was getting there early to hang around and find out who was doing what. Then he would turn around and give all this info to the staff. His councelor and the Director. Doesnt take a rocket scientist to put it together. The bitch was a snitch.
Turns out someone put a Gee on him. A $1000. hit. It was a closed contract. He wasnt to be killed. Just stomped out. He was still part of the click and had at least one friend. So, one morning he arrived only to be diverted to the garage area down on Morris ave. It was only a block from the Court house, it might as well have been a hundred miles away. At 6:30am there's no one around. He got stomped out for about 3 minutes. More then enough time to do the job.
For about a week he was hospitalized. Then after another week or so he finally showed up. He had more black and blues then a tattoo. The swelling took a few more weeks to go down. But the point was made. Dont double cross the ones you need. You never know when you need someone on the street.
Luckily for him none of the people he snitched on caught a case. In that case it would have been much worse. Much, much worse. Withen a week of that he was moved to another program site. But by then Word was out! No one would trust those loose lips again. When the word is out about the foul shit you do, Sometimes your better off dead cause you will never gain trust again. And people dont forget.Memories can be long, Very long!!!
Jesus Morales
is as common a name as Tom fucking Jones. But this scum sucking bastard took a vow in prison cause he needed fucking protection from getting that pretty ass of his rimmed while he was up at Clinton-Danamora State Prison. When you're there you are no longer in Kansas Dorthy!
Whatever his peripheral involvement he caught a body at 17. He more then likely played chicky on a burn and the motherfucker took his last breath behind some over zealous asshole. That is why you never take a piece of work with strangers. Too many over achievers out there and when the shit hits the fan they act out the conditioning of watching too much "48 Hours". Instead of learning "LAWYER" they get it stuck in there stupid minds that it is okay to confess to the cops.
I'm not trying to give you lessons in being a criminal. If you haven't got your head right by now, you are fuckin lost at the gate.
Here is abitch that did 10 years. Now he's been out for 10 years and he's still bragging about the dime he did upstate as though those were the best years of his life. I met the bitch in a methadone program and just know that he was playing a broken record. That and homeboy was still living with his mother. Living home is no issue if you are going through a slump. But if that is your primary then as a man you aint about shit.
The program didnt open until 8am. So if you get there at 6:30am you had to have a hustle! Turns out holmes was getting there early to hang around and find out who was doing what. Then he would turn around and give all this info to the staff. His councelor and the Director. Doesnt take a rocket scientist to put it together. The bitch was a snitch.
Turns out someone put a Gee on him. A $1000. hit. It was a closed contract. He wasnt to be killed. Just stomped out. He was still part of the click and had at least one friend. So, one morning he arrived only to be diverted to the garage area down on Morris ave. It was only a block from the Court house, it might as well have been a hundred miles away. At 6:30am there's no one around. He got stomped out for about 3 minutes. More then enough time to do the job.
For about a week he was hospitalized. Then after another week or so he finally showed up. He had more black and blues then a tattoo. The swelling took a few more weeks to go down. But the point was made. Dont double cross the ones you need. You never know when you need someone on the street.
Luckily for him none of the people he snitched on caught a case. In that case it would have been much worse. Much, much worse. Withen a week of that he was moved to another program site. But by then Word was out! No one would trust those loose lips again. When the word is out about the foul shit you do, Sometimes your better off dead cause you will never gain trust again. And people dont forget.Memories can be long, Very long!!!
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
BLOG#7 Smiling Faces
Smiling Faces,sometimes pretend to be your friend. Are the lyrics of an early 70's sond=g that is as relavant today as it was then and for 1000's of years preceeding it release as a song.
I showed my hack license to a friend and someone I know for many years was sitting beside him took the license and then proceeded to memorize m info. I took it back and took the high ground by asking him questions that made him think of answers. First it was difficult but I was able to pull him away from reciting the name over and over in his head. I could actually see the process. Then I made him ingage in a quibble about the price of his van and then I made him add the cost of a gallon of anti freeze per day. What the weekly and monthly cost would be. By the time he finished with my questions he could no longer remember the correct spelling of my name. Had he not pulled out his phone to put my name in I would not have been sure that thats what he was up to.
Then I took the street. Fuck low ground, I told him that low life black hearted people that gossiped and had their noses in other people bussiness and up their asses was the reason I was looking to move from this neighborhood.
This is a guy that I've always treated with respect. Since he's always with his wife I figure he really doesn't have any real friends. And when I look at him critically I gather that there was no good reason for him to get my incidentals. I mean there aint a valid reason in the world the memorize my name, etc. With one son in prison, upstate. Another on the streets panhandling money by pretending to be disable. Wheelchair and all.The third son in the ground and a daughter you never see but has a rep for being good on the computer, I'd say I needed to make that piece of shit get confused before I confronted him. And then blow him and his dumb ass wife a new asshole. I say it plural cause the both of then are so stuck together they probably use the same one to save.
I accept responsibility for being lax about my credentials. But honestly, Who would expect such crap from people that you know for almost 30 years? Anyone who is on the ball! That means me from now on!
I showed my hack license to a friend and someone I know for many years was sitting beside him took the license and then proceeded to memorize m info. I took it back and took the high ground by asking him questions that made him think of answers. First it was difficult but I was able to pull him away from reciting the name over and over in his head. I could actually see the process. Then I made him ingage in a quibble about the price of his van and then I made him add the cost of a gallon of anti freeze per day. What the weekly and monthly cost would be. By the time he finished with my questions he could no longer remember the correct spelling of my name. Had he not pulled out his phone to put my name in I would not have been sure that thats what he was up to.
Then I took the street. Fuck low ground, I told him that low life black hearted people that gossiped and had their noses in other people bussiness and up their asses was the reason I was looking to move from this neighborhood.
This is a guy that I've always treated with respect. Since he's always with his wife I figure he really doesn't have any real friends. And when I look at him critically I gather that there was no good reason for him to get my incidentals. I mean there aint a valid reason in the world the memorize my name, etc. With one son in prison, upstate. Another on the streets panhandling money by pretending to be disable. Wheelchair and all.The third son in the ground and a daughter you never see but has a rep for being good on the computer, I'd say I needed to make that piece of shit get confused before I confronted him. And then blow him and his dumb ass wife a new asshole. I say it plural cause the both of then are so stuck together they probably use the same one to save.
I accept responsibility for being lax about my credentials. But honestly, Who would expect such crap from people that you know for almost 30 years? Anyone who is on the ball! That means me from now on!
Monday, August 2, 2010
Blog#6 You can hear the Bullet
There can be many, many topics. But there is only one truth! I may not have been the first to say it, but I'm the last in a short line to live it.
Many years before the Time Warner building was thought of. Before the Montana block the sunlight on my grandmothers avacado plants on the fire escape. Before high rises cluttered Amsterdam ave. We stood tall on the streets of the upper Westside of Manhattan. Before gentrefication and the Gov't got in bed with the landlords to rid the city by terminating rent control and allowing stabilization to rise so that only those making salaries in the high 5 figures could live in Manhattan. Working class people could actually hold there heads up and walk with pride in their neighborhoods.
The few exceptions are those who have lived in there apartments for over 30 years and still had payable rents. But that small group only stay cause they can't afford to move anywhere else. These poor people often have to endure abuse and harassment by there yuppie neighbors who are angry for having to pay so much more for usually less space.
Back them however was a time when living in the 212, was really being a New Yorker. There were still communities in Manhattan. Now with all the high rises there are really only a few areas that have that flavor that living in areas like the West Village, or Tribeca or Chelsea had.
But living on the Upper Westside was special. Jr. High or middle school was in the area. W77st & Columbus ave. Across from The Museum of Natural History. I'd cut school to go to the museum.Then I went first to Manhattan Voc. Tech. on E96st. for a year. The last 3 yrs. of High School were at H.H. Lehman H.S. in the Bronx. No matter what the day was like I would always rush to get back around the block. There was always something to do or get ready for. Home work, eat, sleep and get up at 11pm. to go dancing at some club down town. I can't even begin to tell you how many times we'd break night and watch the sun come up from a traffic Island on Broadway or from either Riverside or Central Park. And we'd make it to school the next day! It wasn't all about crime, drugs, sex and wildness. Alot of it was cooling out with the fellas. And it became even more fun when the girls were there.
Many years before the Time Warner building was thought of. Before the Montana block the sunlight on my grandmothers avacado plants on the fire escape. Before high rises cluttered Amsterdam ave. We stood tall on the streets of the upper Westside of Manhattan. Before gentrefication and the Gov't got in bed with the landlords to rid the city by terminating rent control and allowing stabilization to rise so that only those making salaries in the high 5 figures could live in Manhattan. Working class people could actually hold there heads up and walk with pride in their neighborhoods.
The few exceptions are those who have lived in there apartments for over 30 years and still had payable rents. But that small group only stay cause they can't afford to move anywhere else. These poor people often have to endure abuse and harassment by there yuppie neighbors who are angry for having to pay so much more for usually less space.
Back them however was a time when living in the 212, was really being a New Yorker. There were still communities in Manhattan. Now with all the high rises there are really only a few areas that have that flavor that living in areas like the West Village, or Tribeca or Chelsea had.
But living on the Upper Westside was special. Jr. High or middle school was in the area. W77st & Columbus ave. Across from The Museum of Natural History. I'd cut school to go to the museum.Then I went first to Manhattan Voc. Tech. on E96st. for a year. The last 3 yrs. of High School were at H.H. Lehman H.S. in the Bronx. No matter what the day was like I would always rush to get back around the block. There was always something to do or get ready for. Home work, eat, sleep and get up at 11pm. to go dancing at some club down town. I can't even begin to tell you how many times we'd break night and watch the sun come up from a traffic Island on Broadway or from either Riverside or Central Park. And we'd make it to school the next day! It wasn't all about crime, drugs, sex and wildness. Alot of it was cooling out with the fellas. And it became even more fun when the girls were there.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Blog#5
Today I was about to blow a gascett. I seriously wanted to slack anyone of a number of people. Starting withmy mother. My brother came in a close second and then there's a list as long as my arm. I wound up walking away from them all.One at a time I had miner face time with each of them. All lying, all full of shit and my brother just doesn't want to hear anything, no matter how wrong he is. He even said "Yeah, I'll take one" when I asked him if he was going to buy cigarettes?
I walked away and wanted to scream cause its that way with them all. They will take whatever they can get. Forget about any work involved. It's take, take, take. And I'm spent. I'm 50 and these people have sucked me dry emotionally. I don't care, I don't want to hear or know about anything from anyone. It seems as though if I'm gonna save any money I need to move away. Cause I find that I say no about 15 times, just while taking a simple walk. Even the homeless cats try chipping away at me.
All this and I'm hardly rich. What I mean is I'm not by any means living on the lap of luxory. I eat well, have the things that make me comfortable. But, I'm not taking any limos. Or vacationing at the South of France.
I need to stop this bullshit whining grow a set and tell these people to fuck off. They wont give me a dime when I'm busted, So I need to put things in perspective and just say no. Forget about polite. They sure as hell aren't polite. To hell with there feelings.Just like I get my ass up and put in 12 hr. shifts, so can they, and if not it ain't my problem. And fuck it, I'm not here to pay for anyones dope, coke, beer or cigarettes.
In my mind I'm in this lovely place. I feel wonderful. I hold my head high and take deep breaths. I feel like a king. These blogs help me to keep writing, twitter keeps me growing with all the info and stimulus that I get. And on occassion I have dialog with folks. I dont do chat rooms cause I don't need hookers or chicks that are looking to get there bills paid or a plane ticket, etc. Way too much bull.
And more then anything I'm learning. After all the crap I've gone through with my health issues, I'm so happy that it'll all get worked out. I dont need to pay for followers, I don't care about too much more then living well, being happy and being the best me I can be.
Acting, writing, and performance oriented things are what really interest me. I'm a professional actor and thats where I need to keep the focus. That is where I need to be. That is where I want to be.
If I ramble on long enough I usually answer the questions myself. I am an actor, and I should be working. Stardom, fame, things that are all relative. If I give it my all, do my best then it'll all take care of itself!!!
I walked away and wanted to scream cause its that way with them all. They will take whatever they can get. Forget about any work involved. It's take, take, take. And I'm spent. I'm 50 and these people have sucked me dry emotionally. I don't care, I don't want to hear or know about anything from anyone. It seems as though if I'm gonna save any money I need to move away. Cause I find that I say no about 15 times, just while taking a simple walk. Even the homeless cats try chipping away at me.
All this and I'm hardly rich. What I mean is I'm not by any means living on the lap of luxory. I eat well, have the things that make me comfortable. But, I'm not taking any limos. Or vacationing at the South of France.
I need to stop this bullshit whining grow a set and tell these people to fuck off. They wont give me a dime when I'm busted, So I need to put things in perspective and just say no. Forget about polite. They sure as hell aren't polite. To hell with there feelings.Just like I get my ass up and put in 12 hr. shifts, so can they, and if not it ain't my problem. And fuck it, I'm not here to pay for anyones dope, coke, beer or cigarettes.
In my mind I'm in this lovely place. I feel wonderful. I hold my head high and take deep breaths. I feel like a king. These blogs help me to keep writing, twitter keeps me growing with all the info and stimulus that I get. And on occassion I have dialog with folks. I dont do chat rooms cause I don't need hookers or chicks that are looking to get there bills paid or a plane ticket, etc. Way too much bull.
And more then anything I'm learning. After all the crap I've gone through with my health issues, I'm so happy that it'll all get worked out. I dont need to pay for followers, I don't care about too much more then living well, being happy and being the best me I can be.
Acting, writing, and performance oriented things are what really interest me. I'm a professional actor and thats where I need to keep the focus. That is where I need to be. That is where I want to be.
If I ramble on long enough I usually answer the questions myself. I am an actor, and I should be working. Stardom, fame, things that are all relative. If I give it my all, do my best then it'll all take care of itself!!!
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