I work for the money
So I can play for keeps
I dance for my honey
So she won’t see me weep

I drive down this road
Made of ashes and glass
I’m a prince and I’m a toad
I’m an angel and an ass

It’s a slapstick tragedy
This vicious comedy
I gotta sing for free
So the Man won’t own me

I see trouble comin’
Just around the bend
But there’s no time for runnin’
This close to the end

They push my face in the dirt
But my head’s in the sky
I gotta hide my hurt
How they make me lie

It’s a slapstick tragedy
This vicious comedy
I gotta sing for free
So the Man won’t own me

My buddy Joe and I have known each other for about two years and love to get into socio-political-religious conversations. We finally decided that maybe we ought to start recording them into a podcast. Here’s the inaugural episode, which I’ve dubbed Getting to Know You.

Can you see in the dark?
Can you stay in the black?
Are there trees on the ark?
Will we say what we lack?

If the sun fails to shine
And the one comes to light
Then those of the night will dine
On those who are right

Should the moon cease to rise
and the night turn to day
There shall be no more lies
but a truth we can’t say

An echo of silence
Blasts forth from the past
Calling ghosts of compliance
Down from the clouds at last

A principle needs not a prince
anymore than a crime requires prints

Our lives need not reason
as much as our paths require reflection

Love is a trial and love is a dance
Love is not magic, love is a chance

The end is the means are the end in the end
When friend becomes family and foe becomes friend

Dedicated to every writer.

You write what you know
when you can’t prove what you write.
When you know you are right
you write what you know.

A picture paints a thousand words,
making the writer’s brush quite heavy.
An army of stories is all we can levy,
using the sheer force of metaphors.

You write what you know
by day or by night.
The mask of fiction is tight
the light of truth is bold.

Written at Agnanti Restaurant (19th St and Ditmars in Astoria)

I write these lines
to pass the time
open the blinds
and clear my mind

to pass the time
I do my time
and stand in line
and say “Everything’s fine”

open the blinds
to feel the sun’s shine
and pretend that it’s mine
at least for a time

and clear my mind
of the ties that bind
to pass time time
I write these lines

These words are a maze
Setting the world ablaze
keeping us in a haze
but it’s just a phase

Setting the world ablaze
with the turn of a phrase
while the foolish one plays
the pious one prays

Keeping us in a haze
a silent dance craze
as the sheep graze
and the mothers raise

But it’s just a phase
so keep track of the days
and log all the ways
these words are a maze

Then out of the blue
I meet someone like you
now the world is new
and nothing feels true

I meet someone like you
and my days are too few
if you were made to subdue
then I was made for you

Now the world is new
my perception’s askew
what I thought I knew
I now see through

And nothing feels true
since you came into view
Now I seek the taboo
to get close to you

That guy’s coworkers are serious douches. He shows them what may be the coolest thing I’ve ever seen, a man who can accurately slingshot hot dogs into windows and apparently lets people buy on credit, and they shrug and say “I’d rather eat at a mediocre chain restaurant.” Why isn’t the guy who ordered them like 200 pounds, considering he must do it all the time?

Finally, what kind of idiot ad team wastes time in an ad to push the house salad? I realize it’s only there for two seconds, but if you work in advertising you know how many billable hours are behind those two seconds. People had fucking debates over whether they should mention the caesar before the house salad or vice versa. They quibbled over what the lettuce should look like and how it should be lit. Why not run a commercial advertising that silverware is provided free of charge?

[UPDATE: Added some photos and video]

So on Friday night my old friend TJ from Pittsburgh came to visit me in New York. I hadn’t seen him in about six years since we worked at the same company in Youngstown, Ohio. My wife was off visiting a friend in Idaho from Friday thru the following Wednesday. A couple of days before she was supposed to leave I had called my buddy TJ somewhat randomly and ended up spontaneously inviting him to come up for the weekend. I was floored that he actually took me up on the offer (which never seems to happen to me anymore) and arrived late on Friday night.

On Saturday, TJ wanted to go into the city and do some sight seeing. We got on the train and rode from my stop in Queens to City Hall. Sitting across from us the whole way was a very cute black girl carrying a tall bag that looked like it housed a musical instrument of some sort. We get off the train (she stays on) around 2pm, and start wandering around Manhattan. At about 6pm we were walking up Broadway approaching 8th Street, when around the corner came the girl from the train. Now I’ve lived in New York for about 3 years and have had my share of coincidences, so I’m used to letting them slide, but TJ isn’t and doesn’t. He turns around as she passes and says “Hi” and waves. She turns around, smiles and walks over to talk to us. Her name is Debbie and It turns out she was carrying a saber and had just come from fencing practice. This immediately intrigued TJ as he’s a weapons enthusiast and we invite her to walk with us.

We asked what she’s up to and she tells us about this little gathering hosted by Alex Grey, who apparently designed album covers for Tool. Debbie says that people just hang out and talk about history, philosophy and spirituality. If you know me then you know this is my kind of fun. We went to a bar and had a few drinks (she didn’t drink, though), and then shared a cab over to the event (it was on 27th btw 10 & 11 ave).

Outside the building is a huge banner that reads COSM, it’s on the fifth floor and it’s huge. I know what NYC rents are like these days, and this must’ve cost tens of thousands per month (at the beginning of the services they mention that they’ll be moving to bigger digs soon). We walk in, and there’s a girl sitting behind a cash box. We’re asked to pay $10, given purple bracelets, and then ushered into this other room. I’m fairly shocked to see that there’s like 80 other people all sitting on the floor, facing a stage in the corner of the room.

On the stage was a statue, which I’ll just describe from the top down. The top of the head was egg-shaped and made of dozens of eyes, this connected to the rest of the head which had three faces. The right face was feminine, the left was masculine with a beard, the middle was normal, all three shared a set of three eyes. The right half of the chest had a boob and the left hand held a flower, while the right had a pectoral muscle and the right hand pointed to the flower. The legs looked like an eagle’s mixed with a bear, and it had giant furry balls below a penis going into a vagina on its belly. Oh yeah, and the whole room is covered in posters reminiscent of Hellraiser.

TJ was already up at the very front of the crowd by the stage and the girl we were with was waving me up. Just as I sat down, the service got started. It was a mash of neo-religious preaching, with some Allah and some Judaism and some biker poetry, but no Jesus stuff really. The whole ceremony was enough to put me off because of the fact that we’d been tricked into paying a church $10, but it wasn’t until I looked around and realized that only a handful of people were wearing purple bracelets and we were surrounded by a sea of others wearing red. This immediately triggered a memory of the story told by the character Joey in the movie “Melvin Goes to Dinner,” about his getting tricked into going to a self-help seminar, specifically how all the new people were singled out by their name tag color. As soon as the service was over, I leaned over to the guy next to me with a purple bracelet and asked him if he’d ever been to this before, to which he responded “No”. I then immediately leaned over and told TJ “It’s a pyramid-scheme cult, we HAVE to leave now”. After we grabbed the leader and took a picture with him, me and TJ booked it outta there and headed to the nearest bar.

We told the story to the bartender and were cracking up combing over the whole story in our mind. We were struck with paranoia wondering if she’d been following us all day. Why did they sit us right up in front? What would have happened if we stayed? Did everyone there realize they’d been scammed into some sort of by the book pyramid scheme religious racket? Are members of Tool part of this cult?

I’ll be writing more about this over the next couple of days as I piece it together and figure out what it means. I highly recommend anyone who’s been in a similar situation to watch the movie “Melvin Goes to Dinner”. This is only one part of the larger story of the movie which is essentially one great conversation between four people.

The nets will shrin​k
while​ wise men quibb​le
The citie​s will sink
as the ice caps dribb​le

The fish shall​ swim
what few there​ are left
The winne​rs shall​ win
while​ the loser​s cry “​Theft​!​”​

We give up our lives​
to endur​e short​er lines​
Alway​s too fearf​ul of knive​s
and too toler​ant of fines​

One day we’​ll look back
on the path that we blaze​d,​
let’​s not regre​t the lack
of an issue​ not raise​d

So many worlds so far away,
so many nights before this day.
Our follies many, our memories few
of the types of evil that good men can do
(the types who listen to what I say)

the true songs of Freedom
have yet to be sung
but we dance anyway
and we dance everyday
to the silent beat of hum-drum

the words that I sling
have already been slung
by each Mother and Child
and Beast that is Wild
A song sung by all that can sing

what I fear most is silence
(the kind made of compliance)
where no one will see
that which all can see
and the only crime is defiance

What I cannot accept is to sit and pray
down on my knees, begging for a new day.
what I hope for is truth
(the kind that blows off the roof)
only then will I sit and stay