TOP TEN!!!!

Top ten lists have been around for a while and we all have our own top ten lists for everything under the sun. I have created a top ten list that ranges from film, books, music and even cities. A random top ten treat that some of you may disagree with but it's my list so bugger off or create your own list. It's cheap therapy, people! For those of us who don't live around the corner from opium dens or a deserted beach adorned with coconuts and turquoise water then spilling what's in your head onto a screen or good old fashioned paper will do the trick just fine. So...let's get started but this time it would be interesting and much appreciated if you commented and shared your thoughts and opinions, as well. 1. Pink Floyd- We're all familiar with this band and their timeless and unforgettable sound from the slide guitar to their haunting but undeniably true lyrics. This is real music...not just noise...but real music that I always describe as heart balm. It soothes the soul and makes you feel like Wonderland is at your fingertips. My favorites: "Dark Side of the Moon", "The Great Gig in the Sky", "Keep Talking", " Comfortably Numb", "Hey You", " Marooned" and "Welcome to the Machine" for starters. What are some of your favorite Pink Floyd songs? 2. Downton Abbey- How can you not crave Dame Maggie Smith in any way, shape or form? Who wouldn't want to live at Downton in the English countryside? Wouldn't you want to be surrounded by words of wisdom and veils of sarcasm at all times? Dinner parties and romps in the servants' quarters? Butter or jam, anyone? It's all about the pacing...you must posses patience to appreciate a show like this because they feed you just enough little crumpets of British wit and drama at a time so that you end up mentally salivating for the following episode! It's better than any drug...I assure you! If Downton Abbey isn't on your "to watch" list, what shows make you mentally salivate? 3.

WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT RIDLEY...

Ladies and gentlemen, I have to announce that something absolutely tragic happened to me on Saturday night. I am still swimming in a sea of discontentment and frustration. On Saturday night, my vision, mind and sanity were severely impaired by a spectacle that could only be compared to finding out Audrey Hepburn had been in several naughty sex tapes with Mickey Rooney and Shirley Temple. I'm talking about "Prometheus." I have been the victim of much trickery and conniving ways in my life but never have I fallen so hard on my bum, too stunned to move, in such a manner. Something is terribly wrong! Mr. Ridley Scott, either you have a severe case of dementia and need to be immediately admitted to a Swedish psychiatric hospital or you simply did NOT direct this tasteless, hollow film. This is not the work of someone who brought us the legend and historical fantasy in "Gladiator", the breakthrough, science-fiction film that revolutionized cinema in "Alien"and gave us a glimpse of a future world with "Blade Runner." Sir, I am terribly worried about you. "Prometheus" is a tale of inexperienced scientists who think, due to some cave drawings and hieroglyphics, that a planet in a different galaxy holds the key to evolution. This all takes place on a spaceship that looks more like a "Transformer" and I was surprised to see Michael Fassbender twirling about on a bicycle in an unusually joyful way through the ship's corridors, instead of Shia LaBoeuf going after women who think Kenya is a type of yoga. The actors couldn't have been less excited to be part of this nightmare, especially Charlize Theron who looked like she was suffering from constipation or lack of alcohol. Noomi Rapace, the star of the film, seemed completely out of place and looked more like she was ready for wrestle mania, and although you can act Mr. Fassbender ,even your Peter O'Toole mockup of an android could not keep this film from making a chap long for hell. This was an insult to Ridley's past cinematic hits. We don't even care what happens to any of the characters. In fact, I was so bored I was longing for an alien, any alien to kill, burn, torch, fry,harass, play frisbee with or make a nutcracker out of someone...anyone! The dialogue nor the cinematography could boost this film's libido. It was in dire need of Viagra!!! Everything was out of place like a nun spending spring break in Miami. Nothing made sense and not in an "Inception" kind of way...more like in a "why do Adam Sandler's movies get shittier by the year" type of way. I won't divulge anymore but just know that it took all the strength in the world not to inject vodka into my eyeballs and pour cyanide down my ears after waiting two hours only to find out that I was robbed...financially and intellectually! Someone is tampering with our intelligence! I refuse to stand with the sheep...I declare myself the wolf...and in case life wasn't hard enough, "Prometheus" hammers that rusty nail into your head. Until next time...

PHILIP MOONE..DEAD MAN AMONGST LOST SOULS

Chapter 1 Philip Moone was his name. As the early morning dawn filtered through the thin, moth-eaten curtains of the tiny motel room, all he could think about was the half-empty bottle of whiskey on the table. Waves of nausea kept him glued to his bed. He was too afraid to move. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a silhouette. Philip slowly turned his head and saw the prostitute he’d been with the previous night. He’d brought her back to his room around midnight for cheap love and someone to drink with. Her lips were still crimson red from too much rouge and her hair fell in soft curls across her pale cheek. Philip realized that getting to the whiskey was the least of his troubles. The woman was dead. She’d been stabbed to death. At this point, Philip forced himself to rise from his bed and stagger to the table. His hands were shaking and sweat formed in little beads around his temples. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey and gulped every last drop for dear life. His eyes were still glued to the corpse in his bed when he swallowed the last drop of alcohol. The bottle slipped from his hand and hit the floor. The thud startled him and he tiptoed to the bed as if she were still asleep. In the cold light of morning, he noticed how young she actually was. She’d appeared older at the bar he’d met her at. Her red dress hugged curves that no woman under twenty could posses but she was just a kid, probably a runaway. The streets were littered with them these days. Lost souls in search of dope or cash or even for a “Daddy” they never had. Philip was ruggedly handsome and in his mid-thirties. Women had always seemed to desire him and he never put up a fight to any of their advances. He’d been with a lot of women but never one as young as the dead bird in front of him. He couldn’t even remember her name. Had it been Rosie? Or maybe it was Lucy? She’d been stabbed in the stomach and the blood had spilt onto the decaying linoleum floor. Philip stepped back so he wouldn’t step in it. A terribly morbid thought whistled through his mind. Had she been so disappointing in bed that he’d killed her? This was no time to try to render the situation into a funny little skit. He had to get out of this putrid motel room. Even though he knew he hadn’t committed this crime Philip had to flee. The cops would never believe him. An underage hooker and empty bottles of booze adorning the nightstand? This was a recipe for spending an eternity in a room with no windows. Philip began to frantically search the room for a weapon. Nothing. People would start waking up soon. He couldn’t wait any longer. The guilt choked him but there was no time to feel compassion for this poor girl. As he struggled to get his clothes on a disturbing thought hit him like a train going full speed. Someone had come into the room while he’d been asleep and killed her. Maybe her pimp or a jealous lover? It was too late now to play who dunnit. Time was not on his side and Philip needed to get away from this mess fast. It seemed that his knack for looking for love in the wrong places had finally caught up with his lonely heart. Philip made sure he gathered all his belongings, most importantly his wallet and pack of Camel cigarettes. He wondered why he hadn’t been murdered as well. He’d never been lucky in the past so this turn of events puzzled him. He glanced out the window. The paranoia was beginning to creep up his spine. A couple laughed in a drunken stupor down below. They’d most likely been up all night. Philip wished he could be laughing along with them. Anything but this nightmare he’d awakened to. He needed another drink to calm his nerves. Once dressed, he covered the girl’s face with a towel from next to the washbasin. Somehow this made him feel more comfortable with the whole situation. He slowly opened the front door to his room and glanced back at the girl. Funny how unexpected death was, he thought. One minute you’re drinking highballs and kissing a lover and the next… you’re gone. The nausea was back as he tiptoed down the stairs to the lobby. It was mad and wouldn’t accept defeat. Philip gripped the arm rail and took deep breaths. He started counting to ten repeatedly in his head. His mother, Evelyn, had taught him that as a boy to get over his fear of the dark. She also used to give him a quarter every Sunday when she would go to the neighbor’s house. A quarter for his silence while she undressed for Paul McDonald next door. Philip had always felt sorry for his father, Tom. He’d slaved away six days a week at an airplane factory and used to take Philip fishing during the summer on Wildwood Lake in Long Island. How convenient for Evelyn. She’d had all the time in the world to bake pies and do dirty deeds behind other people’s closed doors. When Philip was nine, she’d left that summer. Philip and his father had come home from a fishing trip. She was gone. She hadn’t even left a note. All she’d left behind was an apple pie in the kitchen. But Philip loved women despite his mother’s sudden departure. He loved them so much that he let them use him up like an old handkerchief. Philip was now in the lobby. Not a soul in sight, not even the old clerk behind the desk. He was probably asleep in the back. He’d reeked of booze when Philip had paid for the room. He went to the front desk and immediately found what he was looking for: the guest sign-in sheet. He took it and stuffed it into his coat pocket. The hotel door was wide open, as if the establishment wanted to facilitate his getaway. He stepped outside into the cool Los Angeles morning dew. Philip lit a cigarette and strolled away from the motel. The city was still asleep and the silence was deafening. He would have to go hide somewhere. He wanted to run but his legs felt stiff and frozen. None of this mattered, though. Nothing could let him forget that on this morning a girl was dead. Later that day, Philip found a cheap hotel off of Hollywood and Vine. He’d paid in cash and signed in under the name Dean Harper. The room smelt of spoiled milk and piss. He didn’t care. He opened the bottle of cheap whiskey he’d bought at the little liquor store around the corner. He sat down in a decrepit armchair by the cracked window. As soon as he took that first swig he could feel his heart pumping again. The chill in his spine began to vanish. It felt right to be back in Los Angeles; back in the city of sordid delights. Back in New York, he’d managed to write a book and get a publishing deal with Ace Books. His self- debut “Endless Appetite” was about a man from the moon who came down to Earth to collect Hollywood movie stars. The book wasn’t worth a damn and Philip knew it. It had allowed him to live on the advance from his publisher. Sometimes it really was about the money. His father had died the previous year of heart failure. The poor bastard had been fishing and the thought of his old man alone on a lake brought hot tears to Philip’s eyes. He needed to write. That’s why he’d come to Hollywood. For the bright lights. For the women. For the razzle dazzle. Now all he had were blank pages and a dead girl choking at his conscience. A knock on the door made him gag on his whiskey. He held his breath. The knocking continued. Philip slowly got up and listened. He knew it was the cops. Had someone seen him leaving the motel? He took another swig of whiskey and looked out the window. There was no fire escape. He’d break his legs if he jumped. The knock came again, this time louder. Philip took a deep breath and marched to the door. Let them take me in. I may be a lot of things but I won’t go down a coward, he thought. He swung the door open. There was nobody there. Philip could feel his face getting hot and sweaty. His heart began to race. He’d opened the door expecting to see someone. He was losing his mind. Panic swooshed around him like an army of bees. Philip’s mouth was dry and he wished anyone had been behind that door, not this terrible void. Philip peeked his head out and looked into the hallway. There was a greaser standing in front of the door next to his. So this was where the knocking was coming from? The man turned to Philip. “Mind your own business, would ya,” he slurred. Philip closed the door to his room and sunk to the floor. He needed a cold shower. He had to get this stink off him. Another drink would cool him down faster. That’s what’d he’d do. A drink and a smoke sounded like a grand idea to settle his trembling mind. He solved this problem by drinking the entire bottle of whiskey and falling into a hellish state of slumber. The next morning Philip opened his eyes. He was greeted by the harsh light from the rising sun stinging his face. He needed water. It was at this point that he realized he was not in the bed. He was on the floor. The piss-stained floor was caked to his face. He sat up and grimaced in pain. Philip’s ribs felt bruised. He stood up and walked to the dusty mirror by the window. He wasn’t expecting to see a shiner and a bruised lip in the reflection. Philip lifted his shirt and it was just as he expected; a huge purple bruise decorated his ribs. He wasn’t digging these morning surprises. He would’ve remembered being in a fight. The room looked decent so he clearly hadn’t gotten into it with anyone there. Philip was scared. If he was in this state what did the other guy look like? He’d been in the City of Angels not even a week and he wished he could run home as fast as he could to one of his mother’s pies and cold embraces. His lungs felt like they’d been filled with dust so he opened the window. The heat latched on to his skin and forced him to splash some cold water on his face and neck at the rusty sink. Walking the streets for some fresh air seemed like the right thing to do. He needed to clear his head and get a cup of coffee. Maybe he’d meet a nice girl who’d kiss his swollen face and lend an ear to his aching words. He needed to feast on something other than his poor, lonely mug. Philip left his hotel searching for a new beginning to his stay in Los Angeles. He decided right then and there, in front of a little coffee house, that he’d only drink at night. He needed to stay clean during the day so he could write. That’s why he was here, amongst the palm trees and other struggling souls clinging to memories from the past and dreams of a promising future. Philip walked into the little coffee house and sat at a table near the window. He’d always enjoyed watching people walk by. He wondered where they were going, if someone was waiting for them or what their troubles were. The coffee house smelled of warm bread and cinnamon. He lit a smoke and began to relax for the first time since he’d arrived. A curvy Mexican girl came to take his order. She just smiled at him, revealing gold teeth and decaying gums. She spoke no English and just kept smiling at him. Philip lost his appetite and ordered a coffee. She nodded and shuffled away. He felt sorry for her. He felt guilty that her innocent smile had repulsed him. She came back with his coffee and he noticed how creamy the skin on her hands was. Her fingers were long and delicate. Philip could love those hands forever. He wished she could cradle him and caress his sorrows away. “You have beautiful hands,” he told her. She just smiled again and nodded. He forced a smile back and tried again, “ Do you speak English?” She shook her head no and giggled before disappearing into the back of the café, leaving him with an unnerving sense of loneliness. Philip left the coffee house feeling hungry. It was a hunger he’d never felt before yet the smells floating through the air of freshly baked pies from the local bakery made him feel dizzy. He needed to work. He had to set aside his troubles and focus on his mission to write something of substance. But his body ached and he couldn’t get the dead girl’s porcelain face out of his mind. He pinched himself just to make sure this wasn’t a dream. Sadly, it wasn’t. He decided to walk down Hollywood for even just a glimpse of inspiration. As Philip walked down the boulevard, he remembered an old flame he’d had a fling with years ago lived close by. Her name was Susan and she’d worked at her parents’ restaurant. They’d had a terrific time that summer. They’d drunk cheap gin at the drive-in and made love on her grandmother’s couch out in Bunker Hill. Susan was a sweet girl, with hair just like Lana Turner and breasts that would’ve made Errol Flynn blush. In fact, she’d wanted to be a movie star last time he’d seen her. That was years ago, though. Maybe she still lived in the little white bungalow on Wilcox. He could use a woman’s attention right now. Women had always easily made the wheels in his head spin. He quickened his pace, eager and cheerful to see a familiar face amidst the confusion clouding his vision. In fact, Philip felt so full of anticipation that he decided to make a little detour and have a drink at the Frolic Room to celebrate this ray of hope. And with his new agenda he decided to make a day of it. He’d have a toast to new beginnings amongst perfect, beautiful strangers and take his time going to Susan’s. The chances of her still living there were slim but that’s all it took to put a smile on Philip’s face. The bar was dark and smoky. Hipsters flirted with starry-eyed ingénues and the bar wasn’t too packed. Philip glanced at the clock. It was already one in the afternoon. He was pleased with his new found joie de vivre, if you could call it that, and chose a seat next to an old man with a bowler hat and an expensive looking pocket watch. The man grunted when Philip sat down, clearly annoyed with his presence. Philip ignored him and ordered a Tom Collins. He was ordering beyond his means but he didn’t care. The gin made him forget about his battle wounds and he decided to strike up a conversation with his neighbor. “Beautiful day isn’t it?”, he asked the man in the bowler hat. “ And why’s that?”, the man mumbled. “ We’re in Hollywood. I’m a writer you see and today I feel like I’ve got something worth writing about. And I’m off to see an old friend,” Philip grinned. The old man finished his drink and got up. He patted Philip on the back. “You’ve got a lot to learn, kid,” the man said before leaving the bar. If only the man knew. If only he knew the cards Philip Moone had been dealt in the game of life. WHAT DO YOU THINK WLLL HAPPEN NEXT?

ASK MISS CROWE...

ASK MISS CROWE… Q: How do you find a good man in Los Angeles when everyone here is so pretentious? Well… that’s like going through your jeans before putting them in the wash and hoping to find a twenty or finding a ripe avocado at the supermarket. If you lived in Omaha I would suggest you just go knock on your neighbor’s door to ask for some sugar, in which case I’m sure you’d be getting a lot more than what you asked for. They weren’t lying when they said a good man is hard to find but every once in a while you’ll stumble on someone that makes you wonder whether you’re in a Nancy Meyer’s comedy. The only advice I can give you is to take risks and to be fearless. Stop hunting for a man; it makes you seem desperate. Once you accept the fact that you are in a city that lost its soul a long time ago then you will have accomplished a feat that most are too blind to acknowledge. This isn’t a game of hide and seek or an Easter egg hunt. Adopt a “laissez faire” attitude and I promise you will stumble upon Prince Charming. Good things happen to those who have a life. So stop sitting around eating ice-cream and watching re-runs of “Sex and the City” and live. Q: What do you say to people who fall madly in love but according to society, their age difference isn’t appropriate? It’s not like you’ve fallen in love with Hitler, is it? Sean Penn and Michael Douglas seem to be pretty giddy about waking up with women half their age. You don’t hear them complaining, do you? It could be a lot worse. First of all, falling madly in love is like a myth. It’s an endangered species practically!! Society doesn’t know the first thing about happiness anyways. Throughout history they’ve murdered innocent people and committed the most atrocious acts just because of skin color. Never listen to the masses because you’ll end up in the gutter. Looking down on a man or woman who’s dating someone younger is pure jealousy. We always want what we can’t have and youth is as fleeting as time so pounce on your younger lover and give all the hypocrites of the world a huge smile… and the finger of course.

BE VERY AFRAID OF THIS FILM

At first, I was open minded about watching "Don't Be Afraid of the Dark." It starred Guy Pearce, whom I respect, and Katie Holmes, whom I feel complete indifference towards. The film was produced by Guillermo Del Torro, who has a brilliant imagination and storytelling capabilities, and the film takes place in an astounding Gothic mansion worthy of selling your relatives for. I put my skepticism aside and decided to take a chance. The previews included frightening whispers from the basement, a disturbing little girl and the cinematography reminded one of a Diego Velasquez painting. So far, so good. Little did I know that my time and energy would be wasted and I would have been better off peeling ten pounds of vegetables or attempting to reproduce the Sistine Chapel in my living room. First of all, the actors either loathed being on set and took the job to get paid or they were taking heaps of sleeping pills. I still have faith in Guy Pearce, so my guess is he needed quick cash and called it a day. Katie Holmes, on the other hand, delivered such a dreary performance that she could very well be a substitute for morphine. You feel tired and numb,not in a comfortable way, I must say. The story is about a couple, Guy and Katie, who are renovating a house that I wouldn't live in since even the driveway seemed lined with evil spirits. The man's daughter, Sally, comes to live with them and clearly she would rather be peeling vegetables like myself. Sally begins to hear spooky whispers from the basement and wants to befriend whoever or whatever is scaring the shit out of her in the middle of the night. Is she completely incompetent or taking Katie Holmes's sleeping pills? It is impossible to root for a child who clearly wants to play hide and seek in Hell. It turns out, that tiny goblins have been haunting this home for over a century and when they get bored they must eat a child. These were no goblins but ugly rats with pitchforks, in my humble opinion. They crawled around like cockroaches and Sally could have killed all of them simply by stomping on them. Of course, there would be no movie if she'd done that.Undoubtedly, no one believes her tale of woe and she has to battle the demonic forces trying to destroy her family. The only problem is that her family is already flying over the cuckoo's nest. Her father ignores her periodical fits of hysteria and focuses on being on the cover of Architectural Digest with the renovation of the mansion. His girlfriend just wants to bake scones and stare at the koi fish in the pond outside and Sally's mother resides in LA, where her nocturnal activities have replaced motherhood. An episode of "Friends" has sent more chills down my spine then this artless tale of vengeful rats on steroids, who want to eat a masochistic child, whose father prefers money over her and whose girlfriend is in a constant state of confusion, due to the tainted Scientology porridge she's been gobbling up...well that's a whole other story. So go ahead and turn off the lights, your computer, your phone or any other devices that emit light if you are anywhere near a screening of this irksome tale about vermin and lunatics. Till next time...

EMERGENCY SITUATION!!!

I sometimes find it amusing listening to people's complaints. To be fair, sometimes they are legitimate reasons and I don't blame them for wanting to buy devices that will induce pain and misery. We all have days when our issues seem insurmountable and we'd like to do some serious damage for our well-being. Life can be unfair and "real" problems tend to strike anyone, anywhere, anyhow. It seems to me though, that in Africa or Asia, for example, their problems do tend to be slightly more tragic than over here, in the stolen land we killed for and now call home sweet home. Tsunamis, famine, AIDS, earthquakes and war are just a few "hiccups" they deal with day in and day out. The following is an actual list of complaints that have poured out of people's mouths. Undoubtedly, I had to swoop up this marvelous list and reevaluate various disasters these innocent victims have to suffer. 1. "My hand is too fat to shove into the Pringles container so I have to tilt it." Really? Maybe someone should yank the Pringles from your greasy fingers and hit you repeatedly on the head. Laziness always astounds me. Society now relies on technology to facilitate everything for them. Remote controls, cars, computers, phones, microwaves...the list is endless. No wonder there's an obesity problem in this country. Is laying in bed surrounded by controls and screens the bright future that lies ahead? Are we destined to resemble Jabba the Hutt's relatives? Step one to dodging this horrific nightmare: get up and start walking,to the store for starters. Remember those two weird shapes protruding from your hips? Once you've accomplished that, then we'll talk. 2. "I didn't have a childhood so I can't turn my pain into art." Asshole alert! Is it really necessary to have a childhood a la Almodovar's "Bad Education" or a summer reenacting "Deliverance" with your family to be creative as an adult? Or maybe you're embarrassed of your childhood because you lived in a trailer park and your Dad was arrested for selling pills to your classmates. Either way, you should embrace or forgive the past because dwelling on what did or didn't happen is a bigger waste of time than watching "Keeping Up With the Kardashians." There's no rule that you have to suffer to be creative. I guarantee you that Edgar Allan Poe would have worked as a priest if it meant living a peaceful existence. Get over your glorification of fallen artist's misery and pain...plus maybe you're just not talented in that domain and would be better off as a baker or used car salesman. 3. "My GPS made me drive through the ghetto." Boohoo. If driving through the ghetto in your Prius is your definition of a bad day then you clearly haven't walked through the Everglades at night. If you think rundown homes and a couple gangsters in the McDonald's parking lot is inconvenient, try walking through the gator-ridden swamps and running into a one-toothed guy of questionable appearances carrying a rifle and a dead raccoon. Try that scenario on for size. What if your GPS lands you in Amish country? 4. "I can't hear the TV while I'm eating crunchy snacks." I forgot how stimulating the dialogue was in "Crank II." Since when do words have more importance than explosions and beheadings? Maybe you should stop eating for a minute or two if it's getting in the way of your education.This person should be thrown in a time machine back to the 1300's in Europe. Drawbacks like the Black Death, religious dogmas and the Hundred Years War would probably also have gotten in the way of his crunchy snacks. First World problems, I daresay. The next time you're itching to complain because Lady Gaga's music video is taking too long to load think about having the plague, while your family is getting massacred outside and Your pet chicken is screaming that the sky is falling, all in one day. What then? Till next time...

SEX! SEX! READ ALL ABOUT IT!

Did you know it's completely possible to be fantastic in bed? Hey, it's the new self therapy people, so climb aboard and trust me, it won't be a bumpy night. In fact, all you have to do is open you ears and listen, which is the best medication I might add. So relax, light smoke, have a cocktail or undress in front of your window so your neighbor can see a little bit of this and a little bit of that. Sometimes your sex life is just fine. As fine as a summer day in the Hamptons but it can also be a disaster but guess what? It's all in your head. There's nothing wrong with you or the people your thighs are wrapped around. Here are a few issues that pull us away from the exhilarating sex life we all want to possess. "I CAN'T DO IT" This of course meaning it's impossible for you to climax, to shoot hoops through the big "O" let's say. You've tried all 529 positions of the Kama Sutra, taken a speed course in tantric love, and passed yourself out like a free sample hoping for a winner.Nothing is working and sooner or later you're drowning in a sea of disappointment. WHAT TO DO? Stop thinking or obsessing about it. Forget about the orgasms, period. Orgasms are like love, they happen when you least expect it. Stop viewing it as as a scene from "Outbreak" where if you don't rapidly find a cure you will die and not even Dustin Hoffman can save you. Let go and please your lover. Get lost in the moment and get your hands dirty. In this case, do not keep your eye on the prize. "I CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT IT" You're sex starved. Two week without sex and you feel as if you've spent your life in a nunnery. Once is never enough.You can never quench your thirst. But then it will feel to your partner as if you're on some kind of never ending crusade. They'll start to feel guilty because they can't keep up and resentments start to pile up and it all starts to feel itchy and uncomfortable, like that wool sweater your grandmother knitted for you in the back of your closet. WHAT TO DO? Normally, you feel a deep satisfaction after making love. A kind of natural Xanax, if you will. But instead, you want more and more, like a drug addict. The more you make love the more frustrated you become. You don't make love because you love the other person but to prove that you are loved. It's a classic case of narcissism. You make love to confirm that you are desirable but you never end up believing it. To get out of this trap, you'll have to learn self discipline. Sorry to burst your bubble but too much of a good thing always ends up losing its appeal, including sex. You will never be satisfied if you're constantly void of any emotion or affection. When you start making love for the right reasons, you'll discover what it is to be sexually satisfied, like Jeff Bridges. "I CAN ONLY DO IT THIS WAY" You think you're sexy but only under certain physical or psychological circumstances. Maybe you can only do it in public,in the stairs or in a parking lot.Or maybe you can only do it in front of a mirror, or with married men, complete strangers, giant, hairy apes or adolescent boy-types. This can be cute once in a while but not on a daily basis. WHAT TO DO? The problem is that you put a barrier between your sexual activities and the rest of your life.You separate your sexual life from your real life because then there is no risk for you personally. Better invest in a sledge hammer because you're going to have to break down that wall.Break the routine and don't fall on bad habits because you're afraid of change. The road less traveled, or the one that seems raided by bats and possessed clown, should be taken my dear. it's scary at first but so is wearing six-inch heels on a rainy day. "I'M TOO AFRAID" As soon as your bumping and grinding in your new satin sheets with someone, all your insecurities come pouring out. You could hate being naked or afraid of experimenting because your own desires embarrass you. Maybe you believe that your partner will stop loving you as soon as they get you into the sack or if you show them how much you want them. WHAT TO DO? The first step for you is to get rid of your inhibitions. Make a list, even. Talk to your partner about your hang ups. You have to speak up or else you'll never get what you want and as we all know, time is not our best friend. Inhibitions are often repressed desires and what scares you the most is probably going to give you the most pleasure. Even if you crave someone to dress you up as a turkey and want them to chase you around with a butcher knife!! It's okay...love is being weird together. Corsets are made to be loosened, whether they're physical, emotional or psychological. Sometimes, all it takes is a little pull and you'll be dancing in the rain, not even noticing that you're soaking wet, muddy and frightening the neighbors. Till next time...

LETTER TO A CONFINED WOMAN

Dear Jane Eyre,

Although I appreciate your morals and discipline, I have to tell you that you awaken in me a violent need to slap you repeatedly. I wouldn't want you to think me a brute, so I will therefore explain my somewhat bitter opinion of you.
First of all, I thought you were a wonderful child, full of sound and fury, never letting anyone step on your toes or belittle you. Fine attribute that every child should posses. Well done indeed. Your education was quite frankly a nightmare and as we all know surviving an all girl's boarding school in England could only be compared to an evening with Jack the Ripper. You finished school quite the young lady, even though you were humiliated, lost your best friend and beaten. At this point, you are as brave as Conan the barbarian in spirit and vigor.
I begin to get agitated with you when you begin working as a governess at Thornfield Hall. Your employer, Edward Rochester, is a mysterious man and could even be compared to the "Beast" in Disney's fairytale. Rochester is a little frightening, I'll give you that, but he teases and flirts with you in such a romantic way that your dress should have been flung into the fire upon your first encounter with him. Well, not in the forest but when he invites you to sit with him by the fire and is clearly, as we would say today, "really f###ing into you." I don't care that religion, status symbols and the rules of society have been your bread and butter until now. You're supposed to be a strong, independent woman Jane!! You've had to fight all your life and now the undeniably sexy and verbally arousing Rochester wants to see you in your knickers and you play hard to get for the entire story. And in Hollywood's latest version of your tale, you immediately succumb to Rochester's undeniable longing for you, especially when it's being played by Michael Fassbender young lady!!
Yes, you're not a damsel in distress and you want to be true to yourself but even the trees and sheep outside are aware of his steadfast desire and love for you Plain Jane. Someone should have given you the Marquis de Sade to read. That would have been far more educational and beneficial than drawing portraits alone by the window or lonely walks in the rain. You must be a sadist somewhere, my dear.
And then you get jealous, in a composed manner of course, when he has female guests at his home. What do you expect? He's desperately trying to get a reaction out of that somewhat frigid mind of yours. You're so confident and pleased with your unshakeable poise buy you don't know how to live.
I love you Jane. I really do. You're a credit to your race, as Woody would say but loosen your imaginary emotional corset. You seemed pale, at least that's how they've portrayed you onscreen, during your quest. You should have drank more wine and frolicked around Thornfield Hall in the nude, teasing your darling Rochester until he was begging for your flesh. You should have shocked the staff with your bare assets and Jane.... allowing desire to crawl up your leg will give your cheeks the natural flush they so obviously seemed to crave.

Best Regards,
A Very Irritated French Woman

KAMILI'S SONG

In the little village of Abala, located in Congo, a little girl by the name of Kamili awoke from a deep slumber to the sound of birds chirping outside her family's hut. She lived with her parents and younger brother. The village was beginning to stir and she could hear some of the other children playing football outside. She smiled at her Mama, who was drinking some coffee from an old, tin cup. Her mother's warm gaze always made her feel safe. Kamili ran outside as her little brother Fumu was gathering the large, clay jugs they would need to fetch the day's water at the river.

Kamili always enjoyed her morning walks with Fumu. They always played chase and competed to see who would spill less water on the way home. The river was peaceful and Kamili always hoped that she would see the hippopotamus she had seen the previous year with her Papa. She had named it Bobo and secretly prayed that he would return to her little river. The walk to the river seemed longer this particular morning and the air felt damper than usual. Kamili had a feeling it would rain so she grabbed Fumu's hand and they ran as fast their little legs could go.

When they got to the river, Kamili screamed and covered Fumu's face. The hippopotamus was dead by the riverbank, blood oozing from his back and neck. Hot tears streamed down Kamili's dry cheeks. Fumu sank to the ground and began crying for his Mama. Kamili told Fumu to start filling the jugs with water. They needed to hurry. She'd already felt a few raindrops on the tip of her nose.

As Fumu was gathering water, Kamili slowly approached Bobo. She was sure it was him. She could feel it in her bones. She knelt down beside him. " I wish we could have become friends Mr. Bobo. Who did this to you?" Kamili looked up at the sky and as she predicted, the rain grew heavier. There was very little time left for them to get back to the village. All of a sudden, Kamili felt Bobo move. She gasped. Bobo was looking right at her. A little tear seemed to roll down his face. And then he spoke to Kamili: "Little Kamili. I am sorry that I have not been here more often as you would have liked but you see, I was protecting your village from the bad men that live in the woods. They are killers and thieves and I have been successful in my endeavor until now. Today, I decided to rest for a little while and come down to the river for a swim. They were already here and shot me many times. Little Kamili, I am sorry I have let you down. I have tried to protect every day but my time has come. You must protect yourself now. Take you brother and go back to the village. The bad men are going there now. You have to hurry. May the sun always guide you by day and the moon by night, Little Kamili." Bobo's eyes slowly closed and he was gone.

Kamili began to shiver with fright and called out to Fumu. She told him to forget the jugs and they raced back to their village. By the time they got there, the rain was coming down in sheets and the road was muddy and slippery. What Kamili saw in the center of her beloved village would never leave her mind, even to this day. Her parents were dead. Shot in front of their home. Their hut had been burned to the ground. Fumu started running for his parents but Kamili grabbed him and forced him to go hide in the forest.

After hiding in caves and in the trees for two days, Kamili and Fumu found a refugee camp by chance. Her little life in Abala was over. Her parents were no more. But she knew she had to stay hopeful. Afterall, Bobo the hippopotamus had spoken to her. She wondered if she was the only this magical moment had happened to. She closed her eyes and hugged her little brother that night, and told herself she would always let the sun and the moon be her guides.

This is what goes on every day in Central Africa. This is my rendition of life in war torn countries. So be thankful this holiday season. Cherish what you have because in the blink of an eye it could vanish. Smile. Love. Give. Be open. My prayers go out to all those who only have hope to keep them warm at night.
Till next time...

NIMBLE TONGUES

Language seems to have lost its true sense and words are spoken with a second thought to what they truly mean. Is this because nobody reads anymore? Possibly, since television, video games and audio books have taken over what should be a staple in our lives. Words are more powerful than you think and spurting out easy words with no meaning or action attached to them is a twice told fool's tale of moronic incapabilities. Mean what you say because when you're on the other end of someone's pie hole you expect them to act accordingly to the proper verbiage they've chosen. Whether you're playing bridge with a hooker in Bangkok or seducing the pool boy, we have a right to believe what we're told instead of living a life of paranoia and doubt. Mel Gibson will not come to your rescue on this one.

"Thank you" Remember that one? Where are your manners? Unless you were raised by a pack of hyenas then you should be slapped across the head with a crock pot for forgetting these tiny words. The Napoleon syndrome has expired. Its shelf life is over. If Bette Davis caught you being ungrateful she would throw her whiskey in your face and demolish you under thirty seconds with her words, which I guarantee you she actually means.

"I forgive you" Are you a member of the Catholic church? Unless you enjoy killing people because you've been brainwashed into believing your neighbor should be murdered because he reads Stephen King, then you have no business judging others or deciding whether or not they've been punished enough. Tolerance is mandatory and if you can't handle it then I suggest you read "The Crucible" and throw your pride down the drain once in a while.

"I love you" My favorite! Nowadays, no one knows if they're loved or actually despised. With all the plotting and trickery amongst us who knows if you're living with Jekyll and Hide. Are you loved because of all the squats you've been doing at the gym or your bank account? I bet they mean it when they say "I love you" in Kenya. Maybe we should all live in huts where belongings and "nice racks" are a thing of the past and see who really loves you then. When all you have are some fava beans and chianti.

" I was wrong" Well, if you pushed your Aunt Myrtle down the stairs because she bought Legos instead of Nintendo for Christmas then of course you're wrong. It's not her fault you've decided to become a sociopath in the making.It will not be the death of you if you stop talking so much and listen more often. Your opinion and the action sometimes attached to it may only make sense to you and Charles Manson. So, go tell your girlfriend you're sorry and that you were wrong for cooking her poodle for dinner. Don't worry. I'm sure prison is homier then they portray it to be on "Prison Break."

" You are beautiful" Verbal seduction is the way to a woman's heart. I've said it time and time again. Make love to a woman's ears and you will be baffled with the results. Do you want a girlfriend who wears sweatpants all day and watches reruns of "Taxicab Confessions" because that's exciting as it gets for her ears? Speak up. Silence is not golden in this area and trust me, a dry slip n' slide is agonizing.

"I'm here for you" One would hope, except when the turnips hit the fan most people run for the closest bar, even the ones that are frequented by a potential axe murderer by the name of Larry playing darts alone. It's better to get chopped up then listening to some schmuck's problems, right? Funnily enough, when our little fairytale comes screeching to a halt and turns into a scene from "Aliens", we want the world to shriek with us and hold our hand. Sorry to burst your bubble of self-importance, but the day you put someone else before your pockmarked ego then Lana Turner will pay you a visit you won't forget. I guarantee your bell will be ringing ore than twice, if you catch my drift.

Some things are better left unsaid but others should be shouted from rooftops and heart-shaped jacuzzis. An agile tongue is worth a thousand "Taxicab Confessions".

Till next time...

ROOM FOR IMPROVEMENT

Have you ever felt a certain way in relationships but after rummaging your brain for the right word were left unsatisfied? It's almost like reminiscing about a hearty meal at Taco Bell? You're left alone, in pain and in dire need of emergency services. Well, ladies and gents of this uncivilized Western world, there are actually words for these fleeting emotions that visit us from time to time, except they're in a different language. The foreigners do seem to be a notch above us when it comes to matters of the heart.

Yuanfen (Chinese) is a relationship which has been brought together by fate or destiny. Principles of predetermination are very important in Chinese culture. Jack and Rose from "Titanic" are examples of this complex concept. They were destined to be together, star-crossed lovers like Romeo and Juliet...except they pretty much all die at the end. If it feels like fate, should we run for the hills? Would it be safer to hibernate in a lion's den then to let cupid shoot his arrow at us?

Cafune (Portuguese) means to run one's fingers through someone's hair. When was the last time anyone did this? In a romantic comedy starring Julia Roberts? A hundred years ago when chivalry was still a popular attribute? It's a nice thought but this gesture is so rare, maybe in hotter, tropical climates it's common. The sun does make one mushy-minded and we tend to ingest too much alcohol and forget our inhibitions...perhaps it's time for a vacation. A desired gesture unless it's the serial killer you've let into your boudoir and he has an ice pick or a machete down his pants. Think of it as a Kinder's surprise.

Retrouvailles (French) is the happiness of meeting again after a long time. The French live to eat, drink, go on vacation or strike and have sex. Meeting someone of the opposite sex, unless it's a pimply Uncle or a hairy, opinionated grandmother, usually means you will be pouring Bordeaux down each other's throats and rolling around in your birthday suits at the Esmerelda Hotel (one of Paris's best kept secrets I might add). I think the last time I saw any of this going on was in "Love Actually" and that was... I can't recall when that was. I must have been at the Esmerelda when that came out in theaters.

La Douleur Exquise (French)..aaah, again the French have come to our rescue. This means the heart-wrenching pain of wanting someone you can't have. A favorite pastime for most, I think. Wanting what we can't have and then once we get it are indubitably disappointed and bored. Like the time you wanted to marry Sasha the stripper, fast forward one year later and you're the one who's barefoot and pregnant in the cell next to Hannibal Lector. How nice it is to be a sadist sometimes? In this case, love is blind and for the wrong reasons, or else you wouldn't be being spoon fed by a pissed off nurse. But you get what you pay for, at least that's what they say.

Koi No Yokan (Japanese) is the little butterflies you get when you know you will fall in love with someone. This is by far the most prosperous time in a relationship since you haven't slept together yet...make them sweat a little before you serve dinner people. Everyone has stars in their eyes and daydreams about the other, anticipating the moment when their bodies will come together, in both senses. A magical time unless you're Forest Whitaker in "The Crying Game" and Boy George is whispering sweet nothings in your ear. Go with the flow or jump out the window? Who knows, one zipper being lowered could make you discover all kinds of interesting things about yourself.

Ya'aburnee (Arabic) is a declaration of one's hope that they'll die before their loved one. This seems to be a popular one except the other way around. Wives seem to really enjoy putting arsenic or other innocent household items masquerading as cleaning products in their husband's dinner. Unless you're hanging out in Tibet with a couple of monks who don't fear death, you better make your own dinner. Wouldn't want that special someone to get any funny ideas now would we?

Saudade (Portuguese) is the longing we feel for someone who is gone or lost. Wouldn't it be nice if we were decent enough to feel this without death, kidnapping or hostage situations being involved? I guess it's true when they say "you never knew what you had until it's gone." Vampires and leprechauns seem to be the only romantic heroes left. They fight for what they love most and unfortunately I don't see any frolicking around in my backyard.

Till next time...

AUDIBLE CARESSES

As you all know, if there's one thing we've learned throughout history it's that we don't learn from history. The same old trials and tribulations are encountered over and over like a blinking neon sign in the middle of the desert. We want to change the world but make very little effort to change ourselves. We crave peace, love and understanding yet those concepts seem to lie dormant somewhere within us. It's time to invest in a flashlight and revive what many have written about. If they were still with us, this is the pudding some of my favorite people would serve.

Papa, also known as Ernest Hemingway, would tell us to forget our personal tragedies and start living!! Life is not a dress rehearsal and even though the play is badly cast take pride in knowing that there will be some applause at the end, if any. Even if it's only measly clap from a drunk one armed man in the back, take solace in knowing that you are at least seen and admired by one. Be proud of who you are and declare yourself the best at what you do and demand respect, even if a few egos have to get trampled upon along the way to Babylon. Start listening more...open your ears and stop obeying that little raspy voice inside your head which will usually point you in the wrong direction. Little voices have nothing to do with your gut. Little voices make you mistake movement with action. Breathing is not enough, even the Pope can breathe. Don't be afraid to get broken and scarred up. It means you've lived and survived. What will you have fought for when you're shuffling around your house looking for the remote or some Jello? Hopefully, it'll be worth a damn and others will remember your panache and persistence instead of your cowardly lion attributes. Get your hands dirty and play ball. Remember, "there's no crying in baseball"!!

Paulo Coehlo once wrote that "the greatest lie in the world is that at some point we lose the ability to control our lives, and become the pawns of fate." People with a "laissez-faire" attitude should be shipped to a deserted island. This type of thinking doesn't get you anywhere. Do you really believe that the universe has you on its People to Please List? I don't think so. You are in control. Idle hands, idle minds and idle hearts should really have gone out of style a long time ago. No war was won by being emotionally lazy, a favorite pastime of most I might add. Fear of failure seems to be the greatest obstacle to happiness. There are people being massacred in African villages, children dying of hunger and poverty and women being burned at the stake in one organized religion I shall not mention. And you're going to complain that "you don't want to get hurt" or "they may not like me"? Man up and start acting like a warrior, well, try not to kill anyone, but like i've always said "navel gazing" is about as interesting as golf or late night infomercials. The drama of mankind is when we sacrifice fulfillment to conformity, when we know we can achieve greatness but deny to do so, and end up living a life of void. An empty house is not a home. An empty mind is worth a bag of bones. An empty heart will sink and be neighbors with Titanic.

As Haruki Murakami so brilliantly put it: “Don't feel sorry for yourself. Only assholes do that.” Just remember that
once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storm's all about. Take it from me, the hustle is worth it, this dance will awaken you and before you know it "Papa" may be writing a tale about you.
Till next time...

ENOUGH ALREADY!!!

I'm always fascinated at how much we end up despising one another, as well as ourselves, simply because somewhere in that tortured mind of ours simplicity and logic seem to have gone to the pub indefinitely. Here is my humble opinion on things we need to stop doing to ourselves. Easier said than done but then again so is everything else in life, except eating chocolate, drinking fine wine and sleeping with arousing people. Anyways, I'm in a generous mood so away we go...

1. Stop spending time with the wrong people.
Why do we surround ourselves with people we don't even like? Do their opinions really matter? We tend to do this because they're attractive, they have money or you need them now or somewhere in the future. Remember that all the people we have admired throughout history couldn't have cared less what others thought of them. Winston Churchill had it right when he said, "You have enemies ? Good. That means you’ve stood up for something, sometime in your life." The right people will want to see you succeed and prosper as a person. They won't drain you like a dishrag leaving you void of anything useful at the end of the day, except zoning out in front of reality shows. If you have the slightest doubt about someone...move on and stop wasting your time. If they're overlooking your worth then do yourself a favor and run for the hills.

2. Stop trying to buy happiness.
Aaaah, an old classic that always seems to pop up since we started deteriorating as a species, probably when power and money became daily staples. There's no mystery to this golden oldie and it'll probably never go out of style, unless aliens take over and turn us into nutcrackers. You can't go chasing happiness...this isn't a fox hunt. It's plain and simple: find someone to love, something to hope for and something to do, preferably something you don't loathe. You won't find it in a Beverly Hills mansion, or at a bar surrounded by supermodels or in a treasure chest. No matter what they're force feeding us you cannot buy happiness. Happiness is stumbled upon not chased.

3.Stop trying to be everything to everyone.
We can't please the entire world. We never will. First, we have to love ourselves, which is something some never accomplish because their vision is clouded by false hopes and dreams. Accept who you are and don't apologize for who you're not. You're not trying to sell yourself to the masses. You're not a shampoo or a mattress. Start acting like you are different and bathe in what makes you unique until your fingers get all pruny. But being something to someone, whether it's a lover, a friend or family, is a wondrous feat. If one person thinks you're as glorious as the Sistine Chapel then screw the lot of them because there's one you, one Sistine Chapel and one Michelangelo...catch my drift?

It's rainy and cold here today and I'm not trying to appeal to your intellect or wit. I'm just trying to be a friend to someone, somewhere, somehow. Don't take life for granted and every once in a while just be yourself. Forget your flaws, forget society, forget money, forget pain. Tell someone you love them, crave the beautiful and as I always say..."feed your head."
Till next time...

"Shame" Movie Review

This is not a film about flowers blooming in the summer, romantic carriage rides in the fall or watching sunsets in an exotic far off land. This is a story filled with remorse, pain, anguish, desperation and massive amounts of self destruction and isolation. It's a shot of the strongest tequila, with no salt or lime to make its rawness sweeter. "Shame" is no picnic and if you're looking to watch a story that will give you butterflies or titillate your intellect you will be disappointed. The only thing you feel is a painful void, as if you've been punched in the stomach by a Viking.
This is the type of film society needs. We need to see what's truly going on in the world and the truth is most definitely revealed in this tale about Brandon Sullivan, a successful New Yorker, played by a brilliant Michael Fassbender, and his frightening sex addiction. Despite his rather cool and composed demeanor, he is drowning in a river of sexual torment and loneliness. His addiction has replaced the few important factors in life, one being Sissy, his self destructive sister, played by a disheveled Carey Mulligan, who only wants him to love her. Fassbender is emotionally crippled by his affliction and the only way he seems to feel alive is when there is zero intimacy involved. No pillow talk, no first date, no sharing common interests...just sex. And by sex, I mean a hungry, frantic, hard-boiled kind of sex. The kind you fantasize about yet are embarrassed to talk about.
With the arrival of his disorderly sister, he sinks deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole of emotional deterioration. There is no solace for him anywhere in his personal life, except between the thighs of strangers and other "night walkers" like himself. There's a scene in the film where he goes running at night, as if he's trying to escape his curse. There's no running away from it, though. One glance from a pretty redhead on the subway, and as Kings of Leon so eloquently put it, his "sex is on fire."
I won't go into any details regarding the plot but I will tell you that this haunting film will leave you thirsty for someone to talk to. It may be too "European" of a movie for some, since a question mark replaces the period of the final scene and the sex scenes are brutally explicit but funnily enough possess an inexplicable grace, like that of a gazelle being chased by a ravenous lion.
There is no shame in this film...just truth.
Till next time...

LONGING TO RETURN TO THE REALM OF THE SOUL

The only way to avoid floating in a vacuum is to remove all the unnecessary clutter we cling to...especially people. Why do we need others to make us feel of value? Is it really that important what your neighbor thinks? Are you going to die a terrible death if you disappear from society to work on yourself or discover new lands? God forbid no one sees you every day at the gym to reassure you that your abs are"totally hot." This constant need for other people's approval drives me insane. We used to have icons like Socrates, Ernest Hemingway(whom I constantly mention), Shakespeare and Mozart that couldn't care less what the public thought. This is what made them great and stand out from the zombies surrounding them. Today, we seem to feel more and more insecure and our only remedy for our decaying self-worth is for applause from people that wouldn't take a second glance at you if you were starving on the street. We forget who really matters. We tend to neglect the ones that love us despite the darkness and poison within us that emerges from time to time. We take the Kings and Queens of this game called LIFE for granted and drench the common pawns surrounding us with our pleading eyes that read: PLEASE LIKE ME.
Make enemies...it's good for the soul and if you don't have any you've never stood for anything. I often say all my friends are dead.... because the most powerful men and women that are remembered today and idolized were the outcasts...the rejects...the flawed. Please dare to be different and flush this ridiculous appetite for the world's approval down the toilet. I guarantee you will be remembered if you dare to be different and piss off one or two people. Try to disengage yourself from useless pride, vanity and greed. The path less chosen bears greater fruit...but do you have what it takes?
Till next time...

HOW SOON IS NOW?

Aerodynamically the bumblebee shouldn't be able to fly, but the bumblebee doesn't know that so it
goes on flying anyway. What prevents us from being somebody? It's ourselves. From the moment we're born we are told what is right and wrong. What is good and what is evil. What society accepts and what it denies. All these ideas are pushed down our throats and sooner or later we feel like we're in an airport waiting for a plane that seems to never come. The eternal stand-by.

The mind is capable of many great things. We've imagined and created the impossible and the improbable. We've gone to the moon, sailed across oceans, discovered cures, climbed mountains technologically speaking and created wonders of beauty from cathedrals to symphonies to literary masterpieces. But why this nagging, downward internal pull that anchors us to the depths of our own fears? It's so simple to break the chains that cripple us. How can we let our minds prevent us from blooming? It's not about who makes the most money or who has the most enviable home. What we have shouldn't define our success yet we seem to constantly accumulate random things that fill a void that will never go away.

It's because we're not aiming for the right things. We aim low and assume that the best things in life like love, intelligence, growth, friendship even, are impossible so we might as well be miserable bastards and blame the world for our misfortunes. The day we realize that we are not victims but responsible for our own lives today will be our own personal Judgement Day. There's so much to accomplish yet fear blinds us to the point that we may as well have one foot in the box because we've stopped living... we're simply surviving.

Learn how to live. Feed your head, your heart and your soul. Be greedy when it comes to your internal fruition because no one else will do it for you. Sure they'll tell you what you want to hear and smile pointlessly but that's about as good as it gets. It's not a harsh realization it's just an observation. Have you ever been in a wheelchair? Well, I have and there's going to come a time when the nurse will stop pushing you, feeding you, applauding your daily improvements and holding your hand while you go to the bathroom. You better learn very quickly how to maneuver that chair and how to make yourself even more visible than everyone else. Unfortunately, it's only when are livelihoods are threatened that we stop and say... Uh oh... I probably should do something because Mother isn't going to pat me on the back and make my troubles go away with reassurance.

I like living. I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable and racked with sorrow,
but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing. The phrase it's only after you've lost everything that you're free to do anything may sound cool coming from Brad Pitt... but you're not Brad Pitt are you? So stop waiting for life to eat you alive and bite it in the ass first. Don't just seize the day... seize your life. It ain't over till it's over...

One Art by Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster,

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three beloved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

-- Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) a disaster.

RAZZLE DAZZLE

They say there's no place like Hollywood. It's the land of beautiful people,
Malibu beach homes and never-ending bank accounts.
You too can be a star here. All you have to do, is jump on the first Greyhound
bus and arrive with fifty bucks in your pocket and dedication.
This is what they want you to believe, the illusion. You have the same chances
of becoming the next Julia Roberts as Bill Clinton does of being re-elected.
This is not the land of Mickey Mouse and "Pretty Woman." Oh no, it's more like
Stephen King's next novel.
Xanax is the new Vitamin C and cocaine has given new meaning to "powdering your
nose."
Teenage girls already look like they could replace Kathleen Turner in a remake
of "Body Heat" and every Beverly Hills mansion holds a dirty, little secret.
It's an orgy of champagne, false hope and blowjobs... but remember to smile.
Sunset Blvd. is the stairway to heaven thy say but it's more of a quick descent
into Hell.
So, want to be a movie star?

LONELY HEARTS

We're all born alone and we will all die alone. Fact. Plain and simple. There's nothing depressing or morbid about that. We're not pack animals, crayons or eggs. What we do in between life and death though, is a completely different matter. One of the biggest complaints I constantly hear is: "I'm so alone." Most of the time it's because you deserve to be. Sorry if I hurt your feelings but this isn't recess in kindergarden and crying and whining won't win you a goldfish. So stop feeling sorry for yourself and listen. Those of you who are thinking you haven't got all day are seriously delusional because how can you not have all day?! If the President has time to go to a Lakers game and enjoy a beer and a smoke then you have to time to do a little reading and self-reflection.

First of all, we have to stop lying to ourselves. Who you lie to is your business but you should NEVER convince yourself that everything is peachy and justify your troubles by blaming the world. I got fired because my boss is an asshole. Maybe you just didn't do your job very well and spent more time memorizing GQ's annual Hot 100 list. My girlfriend/boyfriend dumped me because they're crazy. Maybe you were a royal pain and fleeing was their only option. I gained twenty pounds because my schedule is hectic and I don't have time to cook healthy meals. Well you clearly have time to eat. These are just a few examples of how we lie to ourselves on a daily basis. I'm not pointing fingers or accusing anyone in particular so before you get all hot and bothered just remember this is my opinion and an overall generalization.

We seem to be so worried about our appearance, our jobs, our social lives and finances that we neglect our internal growth. We start things we don't finish, we jump to conclusions because of our ignorance and we end up living a life that lacks any depth. Look at your circle of friends. Who we surround ourselves with plays a huge role in our day to day mindset. People tend to have what I like to call the deadly combo: hypocrisy and cowardice. I can't tell you how many people I've met who are so blinded by their own bullshit that it becomes absolutely hopeless to even try and help. Lately, I've noticed that in the dating world people are so desperate that they'll date their worst nightmare. You can't change people. If you think that 40 year old has- been you met at a bar, who may have had a cute ass twenty years ago is going to give you foot massages and listen to your problems.... think again. They will use you, abuse you mentally and drain you of the last remaining fragments of sanity left floating around your head. Punishing ourselves because we think we can't do better goes hand in hand with lying to ourselves. Subconsciously, we know we're doing things that don't make us happy or not trying hard enough so like a good human being we reward ourselves with toxicity. Don't be afraid to stand up for yourself. If you don't like someone.. tell them!!! If a situation is making you uncomfortable... change it!!!!! Stop compromising for all the wrong reasons and try to get everyone to like you. It's a positive thing if you have some enemies. It means you've stood up for yourself. What are you so afraid of? People say they fear death but in fact... it's life they fear.

If only we'd be honest with ourselves and stop living a lie then maybe we wouldn't be so angry all the time. Stop blaming others. Most of the time it's your own damn fault and you know it. Be somebody. Open your heart before there's nothing left and open your mind. There's no big mystery to life. Stop living in fear and take a chance. That little "alone" problem will vanish before you know it because once you've faced your worst enemy ( YOU) then the rest won't seem like a Haunted House. Besides, who says headless horsemen and zombies are boring? ill next time...

EMPTY WORDS

I've recently realized that you can't trust people's words anymore. It seems that they will either tell you what you want to hear, lie to avoid confrontation, make you believe they're something they're not or sugarcoat everything to keep you around because in some bizarre way they want you around. These are just a few examples and I'm not saying everyone is like this but a good portion of people, whether they realize it or not, sadly are.
People have stopped saying what they mean and their actions only reinforce how dishonest they are being with themselves and with you. A man will tell a woman he loves her but treat her like an acquaintance or a friend will say I'll always help you and runaway when you need them. What are we supposed to believe when words seem to have no meaning anymore? We hide behind our computer screens and Iphones as if they were armor. Nobody is capable of making a phone call instead sending empty messages filled with empty words.
If you want to have valuable relationships with people don't define them by what they say but by their actions. We live in a difficult world that's constantly trying to change us and mold us into something we're not. All we truly have is each other. Phones will break and die, computers will come and go and instant messaging just makes you feel like a stranger.
You want to feel alive? You want to stop feeling like you're alone in a vast desert? Well... be old-fashioned... if you will.
Start by making the people you care for feel loved and important. Stop making them feel like an option instead of a priority.
In the end, when there's nothing left and you're sad, alone and filled with regret you'll wish you had tried a little harder, been a little nicer, opened your heart a little bit more and lived.
Till next time...