From This Day Forward...

At one point in my wayward youth, I had a (second) job as a radio newswriter on the weekends. The hours were 4 a.m. to noon on Saturday and Sunday. As you might imagine, this really put a crimp in my weed smoking social life. This is also around the same time I was smashing the drums in a hard rock band, so I'd frequently find myself going straight to work after the after-gig party, just a regular party, or just a night at The Yard, without any sleep. I never actually clocked in while inebriated. Well...overtly. But every time I showed up at Sunset and Gower, I was loopy from lack of sleep.

Sometimes, I'd have something of an out of body experience. Sleep deprivation plays crazy tricks on the mind, altered chemicals in the brain and all that. It was almost like I'd get a feeling of deja vu, except I felt like I was outside the actual moment in time, which was always brief, couple seconds or so, looking in at myself, my surroundings, and being consumed with a feeling of absurdity. Like, this is ridiculous. All of it. The word that set me off, my life, this office, none of this matters and yet, it's oddly and completely compelling.

Pretty good metaphor for a blog.

Gawd. I don't know what I'm doing here anymore. More damning is I can't find anything to write about THAT MATTERS. This navel gazing exercise certainly doesn't. But you're gonna get it anyway.

*

I've been trying to figure out the problem. It's not writing. Been doing plenty of that elsewhere. It's this thing. This thing I used to love, this forum which allowed me to think out loud, as entertainment, as exercise, as therapy. I mean, this blog contained the worst thoughts and events of my life. You all read it (and if you didn't, and you like a good fucking train wreck, perusing the archives circa January-March of '06 oughta do it) and that sorta became what it was all about. Kent would bare his personal demons and his abject despair for the delight of others.

Then I stopped wanting to do that. It seemed indecorous to air my dirty laundry here, unfair to X, who had no means of response. And then, things sort of became okay between us, civil and cooperative, and I feel like it's my duty as AJ's father not to bash his mother, since I never do it in his presence.

Which is why I probably have 30 unpublished posts sitting around from the past year or so. Emotions I needed to get out of my bloodstream, but, somewhere between "Once upon a time..." and Publish Post, I lost the nerve to put it out there. Or, like in recent instances, I've decided against posting because of what the rant would say about me.

I have a very base reaction to X's upcoming wedding. I'm not proud of it. And it's separate from me being her partner in co-parenting AJ. I'm careful not to let my distaste bleed into his life. But seriously, how can people get so fucking worked up about a wedding when the two people involved have absolutely no regard for the institution of marriage? I've been to a few weddings in my life and I don't recall the passages where the Reverend says "Cheat on your husband" and "Sleep with married women." Maybe those are in them new-fangled, hippy vows I've been hearing so much about.

You might think someone with my track record (oh-for-two!) would be cynical about marriage. I am not. Quite the opposite. I have this superior streak and weddings are a celebration and these two people have NO RIGHT to be celebrated and, to quote the immortal H.G. "Buzz" Bizzinger, "It pisses the shit out of me."

*

So yeah, I think about it, the contrived photos and the pomp and the smiling faces and I find it surreal, out-of-body, like those early mornings at KNX. At the same time, I realize my reaction is infantile, a petty response to something well out of my hands for a long time now and that I should embrace my own life, the positive aspects and my own path. Probably the way to go.

Mash

Anybody top Emet's score at Fantasy Sports Live on Championship Sunday?


I'm guessing no. Nobody did in the contest I lost (and I rang up a respectable 138 on the day, for 5th). By my count, she had every player who scored a TD on the day except for Tim Hightower (though she had Warner, obv.) and Troy Polamalu (but +2 for the INT with the PIT defense). That's pretty much "flooding the zone."

She texted me Sunday morning for advice, but I offered her only one (unnecessary) tip: Larry. Fitz. Gerald.

Anyways...just wanted to note for posterity that, on Jan. 18, 2008, a girl is better than you at Fantasy Football.

I Beseach You

I don't ask for much. But I need you to do this for me. I need to to pass along the word to everyone you know. I promise--PROMISE!--this will be a good thing. You have no idea. Really. This fucking show is SO good.

Friday Night Lights is amazing. Is it the greatest show on TV? I don't know. It's the one I most look forward to watching every week and, "Bret Michael's "Rock of Love Bus" as a notable exception, I have impeccable taste in television.

Let me tell you what sets this show apart: Kyle Chandler and Connie Britton. Chandler is Eric Taylor, coach of the Dillon Panthers High School Football team. Britton is his wife, Tami, principal of the school. The relationship between the two is the likes of which you've never seen on the small screen before. So many programs rely on tired stereotypes to depict parental interaction: the Dad is oblivious, and idiot even, and the Mom is the one who keeps everything together and provides the object lessons. Or, marriages are fodder for deception.

On "Friday Night Lights," you get real reactions to real situations. There are scenes from Season 3 that I've watched over and over again, struck by their authenticity and the pitch-perfect work of the actors. You'll be invested in them in no time.

Season 3 begins tonight on NBC. It has already run, in its entirety, on DirecTV, and I can assure you these 13 episodes are exceptional. You don't need to have seen Season 1 or 2 (and you're probably better off pretending, like me, Season 2 never happened). There is enough back-story provided and the characters--Tim Riggins and Buddy Garrity, mostly--have so much more depth now.

Whether there's a Season 4 depends on you. The show's writers have set up awesome potential if there is one. I need your help. You don't want to be on my bad side.

Friday Night Lights. Fridays 9 p.m. on NBC.

Also, if you're a guy...hottest collection of women on a TV show since "Twin Peaks." Yep...I'll stoop to lowest common denominator to get my Season 4.

Deformed, Like an Injured Bird

Pauly is back with a brand spanking new issue of Truckin', 2009 style. Please go support myself, always honored to be included, and the rest by reading, commenting and sharing the stories with loved ones and people you just kinda like.

"The Orchard" is a story that is very close to my heart. I hope you enjoy it.

January 2009, Vol. 8, Issue 1

Welcome back to the first issue of the new year.

1. The Mollification the Foul Temptresses by Paul McGuire
The hookers at the Rio were a combination of famished vultures and parched vampires ready to pick apart any carcass. Any john. Any drunk. Anybody in their path. They were evil personified.... More

2. The Orchard by Joe Speaker
I reach for her hand, probing, touching it delicately. We don't form a fist when we come together, nothing like the taut intertwine of fingers you see lovers form, those Gordian knots, unwieldy like a stone fortress. Our fingers hang off each other's loosely, three of mine, two of hers, vice-versa, and they dangle. Spider webs in the wind. Tenuous connection... More

3. Hector by David Peterson
I remember clearly when the cops came and took Hector's mom away. He seemed rather nonplussed by the whole thing as we stood on the curb watching a bedraggled and wild-eyed woman being escorted from her home in cut-off jeans, a loose-fitting white tank top and handcuffs... More

4. Flight #22 to Denial by Sean A. Donahue
Her eyes were black as the night. Her black hair cascaded near her high cheekbones and tanned complexion. Her body wasn't made for sin but for pleasure, and the glasses she wore on her head framed her face perfectly. The only thing that didn't make sense was that it was raining over her head... More

5. Running it Twice by Andrew Moxon
There are, however, certain points of opportunity. Soft places in time, when the cockpit door comes open and we second-timers can take over. That's when things can change. Sometimes, every so often, we walk through that door and start flipping the switches... More

What a Long Strange Trip It's Been...

From the Editor's Laptop:

Welcome back to the first issue of 2009. It's hard to believe that Truckin' began in 2002 and we've come a long way since then. This issue features five stories which includes the debut of Andrew Moxon. The always venerable Joe Speaker returns with a zesty piece titled The Orchard. Sean Donahue is back after a short absence and David Peterson makes a splash in his second consecutive issue. And of course, I share a tale that has been told many times before involving Las Vegas working girls.

Truckin' needs your help with a tinge of grassroots promotion. Please tell your friends about your favorite Truckin' stories. The writers definitely appreciate your support, as do I. Spread the word on your blogs and whatever social networking sites you are currently addicted to.

And as always, please let me know if anyone is interested in being added to the mailing list.

Before I go, I have to give a hearty and sincere thanks to the writers for writing for free. They expose their guts, blood, and soul to the universe. Their dedication inspires me and I hope it inspires you too.

Be good,
McG

"Nothing happens unless first a dream." - Carl Sandburg

Published by Truckin' Staff at 1/05/2009 07:51:00 PM | Permalink | Send Comments