To The Walls With My Balls

Call these guys what you want.

Ol' school, retro, whatever but I'm now listening to this German outfit, Accept's - Balls To The Wall - and that song, in my humble opinion rocks to the power of 10. This is one of those catchy tunes where you get it the first time and if you didn't, then you're either tone deaf or just a plain stupid.

But before you even bother to go you tube this magnum opus, it goes something like this - balls to the wall, balls to the wall, you'll get your balls to the wall, maaaan...balls to the wall, balls to the wall.

Baaaa......lllllllllllssssss.

I mean, how difficult is that? Baaaalllllllssssss...

It is also a good song on a rainy day. And its raining here where I'm at.

And the stupid case I'm suppose to do is conveniently adjourned to Thursday. Fuck you, Plantiff lawyer!

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So I was over in the Philippines just before Christmas and that was nice.

It was also my first and definitely not my last because I'm so fucking going again later this year. There isn't much to say except that it rocks like that song, balls to the motherfuckin' walls, kinda. I think Thailand is all good but I find them ladies who speaks English with that definitive slang to be, somehow more appealing.

The big city was nice. Nice because stuff were cheap. But shit, it was a weird to walk into a 7-11 and be greeted by a nice smiling security man strapped with enough fire power to take down a small fucking bank. But I suppose in a country like the Phil, that sort of security detail is necessary. And you just have to do the pork run. I swear to G, how they make pork taste so good there is just mind boggling.

And I also did Fields Avenue. Balls to the motherfuckin' walls. Again.

Here's a tip - when doing Fields Avenue, make sure you have lots of lollipops in your pockets. It works with the street kids. There's a lot them. Never throw money. Give lollipops instead.

Speaking of lollipops, the Lollipop Bar just down the road probably has got the most square feet of fun than the rest of the bar I walked into. And I got acquainted with Mary Grace from one of the islands. I don't know if that's her real name but who gives a shit. And she was very nice. The way she danced, I mean.

Anyhow, its really quite dreary watching them girls do the pseudo-dance and they look even more disinterested to but hey, how often do you get to see them girls do-that-thang, yo?

Pictures, you ask? Are you out of your fucking mind?

That is all.

Normal Shit

Even if I could, they wouldn't appreciate it.

You know whats not normal? I'll tell you whats not normal.

Fucking.Valentine's.Day.

Fuck you!

Yeahhhh, that's the way to start this shit. Its been awhile.

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Ok, so someone just now told me I was not normal.

Errr...so here's what I think.

With me, normal is having a good shit after I had my first cuppa joe in the morning. If I didn't feel it was good shit, the day wasn't going to be good. And this idea of what "normal" people do hasn't applied to me in so long that I've completely lost touch with the whole idea of errrr...what is normal. I don't wear what is hip and I donn't fuss with my hair. I wear the shit that I like because I like them.

I dig action movies, comedies, animation and entirely too many TV series for my own good. I used to like reading comics and my favourite still is Spiderman. I also write shit. And I hate it when strangers touch me. I, on the other hand, like to touch. Them ladies especially. I do live on my own terms because I was educated through interactions with other people that trying to make them happy was only going to fucking kill me. I know who I am and I am very good with that.

The only normal that I care about is normal for me. It's simple. The things that make me happy are the things that make me happy and I refuse to make apologies for that. So fuck you.

There are things that I am comfortable doing and trying, things that I can be convinced to try, and then there are things that if someone tries to push me into doing, they'll find out what my fucking brown ass looks like while I walk away.

I find people who thinks that other people are strange to be not normal. I think people do this because they want to be more comfortable with themselves and reassure themselves that they're okay, that they're right and that they're normal. That isn't my job. I'm cool with being polite and civil, but I don't need to fit your conformity. It won't help me. It won't soothe me. And, in all honesty, it would never work, it would just feel like wearing a too-tight pair of jeans after wading through a fucking lake in them. And wahts up with the tight jeans I see these days anyway? I can't make them see the ocean of mega stories in my head, the characters swimming to the surface so that I can know them, the poetry that dances through my neurons. The hugeness of my fucking ego.

That would be like me shitting a bad shit on a Tuesday morning.