Monthly Archives: November 2012


June 5, 2006…and perhaps, November 16th, 2012…?

After baring my soul to its last shred, I decided I needed a walk.

I wandered aimlessly for a short while, and soon found myself in the confines of Beenzys bar and grill.  Located conveniently down the street.

Surrounded by large, softball playing, man hating lesbians, I decided to have a beer.  At least here I was safe.  I watched an older couple seated next to me at the bar, I guessed mid-forties and was right.  They were so loving, and so tender, having their drinks and completely connected to each other.  I ignored them.

I sucked down fermented hops as quickly as they came into my hands, three beers later I realized that the older couple had left, and to my utter surprise, they left behind three more beers in a cold bucket as well.  The bartender, wearing a t-shirt that said, your girlfriend is wearing my other shirt, looked over at me and shrugged.  I smiled and pulled the bucket closer.

I drank two of those, and gave the other one to a large friendly lesbian to my right.  She seemed pleasant enough, Sabrina, the bartender with the humorous shirt and a cute face, she sported the stereotypical bangs with the short style behind that seems to be the badge of lesbianism everywhere.  Before long she had migrated to the other side of the bar to share a basket of hot wings with the large group of jersey clad lesbians that had staked claim there.  I watched, mouth watering, gods, I was so hungry, I wanted nothing more than to insert myself into that conversation and usurp some fiery chicken parts.

Noticing the looks of suspicion thrown my way, I remembered I had a penis and resolved to stop off at dunkin donuts on the walk, eh hem, stumble home.  The other bartender, Heather, recognized me from my nights of karaoke there and asked me when I was going to come over and sing a song or two for her, she flattered me for a moment before I realized I really wasn’t that good.  I listened as the song ‘black’ came on. 

and all I taught her was, everything…”

I heard the police come on again right after and sang along to that as well  ‘I can’t stand losing you’.  Why must everything I see and hear remind me of loss?

I walked home fighting the urge to dial the whole time, flexing my arms convulsively and mouthing epithets to myself, “you are not going to call, you are not, you are not going to fucking call.”  I was shocked when I finally ended up here on this bed, full of a bagel and boston creme donut.  Not one idiotic outgoing call to be found.

I do not want to die.

Really, I mean that, I want to do well, I do.  It simply is just terribly tempting to slip into oblivion when you lose hope.  Perhaps that is my problem, I need some type of hope injection device, a hope IV if you will, attached to me, feeding me images of things that are not and could be.  Having done so much for nothing, it is hard to ever want to do anything again.  Such a colossal failure weighs a metric ton.

I hate wasting my breath, partly because I feel like I have very little of it left, and because it just ends up frustrating me.

I want to write for a living, this I know.  Somewhere somehow, I would like to make a living putting words on paper, at this point, anywhere will do.  If I survive this, I am determined to succeed in my chosen profession.  With that said, I am determined to succeed in my chosen profession.  I understood that the only way I could actually rid myself of life is by accident, and unfortunately, I am hardly that stupid.

I did think about my epitaph for a moment during my walk, it made me laugh out loud.

‘Here lies John, Juan, Tobas, Manuel Aguilera.  Devoted father, and one-time husband.  He lived his life like a plinko contestant, choosing pathways much like that bouncing red disk, that more often than not, ended in the zero slot.  He will missed my many, but mostly by his children and a girl or two who might have been unlucky enough to fall in love with his substance-less charm.  Although he died full of shame and regret, us perverted drinking buddies who sacrificed a weekend of boozing for this chunk of rock, can only hope that life everlasting consists of ethereal shower peek a boos, and ectoplasmic dressing room hi-jinks, because at least the poor, sad, son of a bitch will have something better to look at than the rest of us.’

I’ll fucking drink to that.

Instant karma is gonna get you.

July 11th, 2006

Get out, get out,

I don’t need you,

Inside, I still feel you,

Let me go, it’s not what I thought it would be,

Me, I am not what I should be,

No, what a mistake,

Walking, talking,


The master, unfortunately,

You met me, the master of the mistake,

Alone, is how I belong,

So long, for so long,

So be smart, and destroy me,

See through the nothing that I will be,

Do you truly want hell,


What a pile, what a miserable pile of secrets,

Care to sift through those,

Dig in that pit,

I don’t give a shit,

I wonder somedays, I honestly wonder,

What it is, that is seen,

When I am seen,

The man I have been.

I would give you the loaded gun,

I would hand you the weapon to kill me,

Close my eyes and let you shoot me away,

I cannot stay,

Shoot me away,

Begging you, its true,

Arms open wide, inside,

I run and hide,

Writhe with my lies,

So close, no relief,

But one thing, only one thing,


Priceless sleep, terrible sleep,

And they come to drive me mad,

I wait, but the voices return,

I see you, clouds of black, little shades,

I watch you form, I see you take shape,

I am your friend today,

Come join me, and tell me what you plan,

What do you want from me,

To take my sleep?

Yours, and yours it is,

Haunt me not, I know you well,

We are old friends you and I,

Make me scream without a sound,

Make me move,

Terror I cannot cope with,

I wait for you,

To give you my sanity,

Yours, always yours,

I am not whole anymore,

Missing pieces as I roll,

Slowly, wonderfully,


And it burns, oh lord how it burns.

Father knows best.

Psst ….Pssst…

…Hey… there, sitting in the corner toying with a shot of jameson and nursing a bud light… Wipe those manly tears away and talk to me for a minute.

Lemme guess? You got drippy with a pretty face who promised you loves and hugs and eternal kisses, for ever and ever and maybe even, fo eva EVA??  It’s okay, I’ll wait…


Right. So what to do? Well, you could get sad and drink yourself to tears night after night. …Exactly. Hmm..but… you could get angry of course, rant and rave with all the might your hefty butthurt lends to your hysterical blubbering. Ah yes, the old tried and true, “lying whore..!….::blub..blub…sob::…she…she, never..lov…ahmygerdddd…loved..::waver like a bright eyes song::….m…me…!”

Perhaps you could even go a step further, and post some silly status on a social networking site about how right Joni Mitchell was (look, I’m not even going to bother explaining the reference, either look it up or what the fuck are you still reading for?), or, maybe you could just take it to ass hurting defcon 5. Karma gonna get ’em!!

[Tangent: I admit to being a fruity child who enjoyed the cross dressing antics of “boy”..”george”…so when I see the perpetually misused term ‘Karma’ , I don’t think of Hindus, or John Lennon, or even silly uneducated self-centered….jesus…well, everyone I suppose. I think of Boy fucking George, dressed as a giant gay chameleon, and he WILL eat your smug little self satisfied asshole.]

“Coraline!…oooh Coralineeeee!!”

I know that look. Shhh. Just, Shhhhhhh.

Your red-rimmed pathetic gaze is telling me, ‘this is pointless, none of your unoriginal and not even a tiny bit inspirational consoling words will help at all’. And there you have it friend. There is no ‘helping this’. You heard me. Now pick up that shot of jame-o and sip it real slow like it was that shit they make in Narnia that can cure the aids.

Hey, I know! Let’s talk about something else. Isn’t it weird that when people talk about forests and rivers and shit, they call it, ‘mother’ nature? It’s weird, they do that with countries of origin usually too. You know, the ‘mother country’ and whatnot. Oh! Right! Vagina’s make stuff! Not making you feel any better huh?

Well hey, maybe we aren’t giant cosmic empowered wombs, but all is not lost. At least we get dominion over something of some small importance. It is ‘father’ time after all, no? That’s right. And we own that shit. Who cares? What does that even MEAN?? Well, let me explain…but first…a dude with a pig!

cutest. sandwich. ever.

Weird…where’d that breakfast loving smarmy looking young ‘un come from? matter, “Go home smirky mcsmirk, you’re drunk! and stop playing with delicious food!”


smirk factor reduced by 60 percent, soulful gaze, engaged….we are green for loads of poontang…repeat…buckets of poonaner are a go..


Oh, hey there George Clooney! ….::mmrfrrmerrm::…

You’ll have to excuse Mr. Clooney, it’s a little hard to speak when your mouth is being obstructed by pussy. Every pussy. Yes. Even your mom. Oh, I know! You silly goose! “Boo boo bee boo, but I’m not George Clooney! Wahhh, I’m just a regular guy, and nobody likey me!…::sob::…::vocal waver::..”


Pull yourself together man, and finish that bud light so I can order you a manly drink for christ sake. Look. No ONE is George Clooney, I mean, he’s a star, an icon, comparisons are ridiculous! However..

There was nothing weird about this science. Fucking friction, and then, ew, why are my sweatpants sticky?!

Kelly LeBrock. Before ‘Samurai Guido’ Steven Seagal got his greasy paws on her, every kid in the western world did the five knuckle shuffle in front of a spinach green ‘puter monitor, hoping somehow that shitty little facemaker program got hit by a magical bolt of lightening and then, tits. So yeah, I mean if smirky pig boy turned into ‘cunt catcher’ Clooney, then…



Wait, wait, WAIT!!

But, this isn’t fair! Eventually age will grab ol’ Georgy by his grey nutsack too, hmmm smart guy…you can’t explain that! …Ah crap…true…the years do even the playing field, don’t they?

“I’ll get that bitch a Bond…bitches love Bond”

Well, I wasn’t expecting this, how do you do good Sir Connery?


“I’ll fucksh youar mum dog!”


Whoa. I believe that cranky old bastard!

So then, is it starting to sink in yet Cusack?

Yes. Blubber all you want now. Look at old pictures, masturbate lovingly and weep into your soiled boxers if you like. It’s understandable. After all, you must now come to terms with knowing this beautiful creature you once joyfully wrapped around your penis, is now happily rocking in a different love shack. She took your fragile little bambi heart and filled that piece of shit with enough buckshot to make Cobain wince, and then, after making sure you finished twitching, sprinted the fuck right out of that miserable corpse hole you once called happiness.

Yes. Sprinted.

She practically set a world record for the 100 yard dash.

In a fucking marathon my friend.

Look, in the end, that skinny kenyan son of a bitch in the black robes catches us all. But just like in nature, that pretty little asshole cheetah can only dust you for so long. No one is Clooney. No one is Depp. No one.

But you are a man; and chances are very good that the day will come when you think back to how bad this hurt, and for a chuckle, you decide to access your nano uplink implant and get an update on, ‘the one that got away…WAY the fuck away from you anyway..’ and you find her, in all her many jowled splendor.

It’s true! No matter how good they look, if your genes aren’t total shit, your love handles, receding hairline, and foul odor will be a few days of brown tide compared to the medical waste wash up time will inflict on this cause of your seemingly never ending pain. Still don’t believe me, fine,

Ooooh look! I’m soooo hawttt!! La Di fucking DA.







…..Oh….Right then.


So, Basically…



Have Penis.





So until we meet in Montauk…

Live it, Love it, (You know what… silly haired titanic chick….? I don’t think I fucking know you…go away.)


Love. Sick.

What sweet delirium,
This fickle fever come of feeling.
Deceptively burning with unhealthy need,

So lovely,

Distracting…weak in the knees..

Weaker and weaker, as you continue to bleed.

Where is the vaccination to this sensation?
Inoculation against a hopeful dream.
A less destructive variation,
That shields my heart and keeps it clean.

I could always increase my vitamin C,
After all, wasn’t that bowl of oranges for me?
Oh, I see,
I never knew that it was actually empty.

You really could have fooled me.

This is a progressive disease,
It starts when you arrive, and grows when you leave.
Like it or not, something painful is bound to stick,
Making you sick, sick, sick.

So you howl your pain, like a wolf at the moon.
Knowing and not thinking,
Feeling and not saying,
If I ever see your lovely face again,

It will have been too soon.