one day is too much. Waking into the quiet empty space - no other voice, no movement. nothing.

This is how it has been and the way it will be from now on. Simple fact.

I can't imagine living with the vain hope of improvement; returning to the way it was. But that's how it's been for her these 800 days. Hoping against impossible odds.

To me it seems a freak show of desperation. But I have not had to face that harsh reality. I don't know if I would fare any better. Maybe I would also fill the air with delusion: Do everything possible to distract my attention from the simple fact that there is no going back. It's all gone.

No second chances. No opportunity to watch it all disappear.

It's already gone.

Posted by A hunk a hunk o hot brown lusciuosness at 02:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

back to L.A.?????

yep. back to L.A. for 3 weeks.

aaaaaaaaaaaagh !!!!!!!!!!!!

Posted by A hunk a hunk o hot brown lusciuosness at 09:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Future leader of the Junior Alvarez Portagee Jug Band

Posted by A hunk a hunk o hot brown lusciuosness at 02:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

no really.

fuck L.A.

for me there's no place left that seems anywhere close to home. no place to unwind.

nowhere feels safe.

for the first time, it's scary and foreign in a way that it never felt like before.

for reals.

no place for rest. no place for comfort.

oh god it's not just L.A., it's this world. it's me. nowhere safe.

fuck.

Posted by A hunk a hunk o hot brown lusciuosness at 12:10 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Thank you computer wizards for making Police work a numbers game.

See how your neighborhood ranks in the CompStat system:
http://www.nyc.gov/html/nypd/html/crime_prevention/crime_statistics.shtml

In all of New York City this year there will likely be about 10-people-per-week murdered.

Hooray! crime is "down" compared to it's historic highs. 10 murders a week is TOTALLY acceptable.

Bravo, CompStat.

Continue reading "Police-O-Matic... when Bean Counters make Policy decisions" »

Posted by A hunk a hunk o hot brown lusciuosness at 12:47 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The Life Cycle of a Housefly:
day 1: egg
day 2: larva
day 3-7: pupa
day 8 - 14: flying around

The Life Cycle of a Chinese Girl:
year 1 - 7: childhood
year 8 - 14: factory work
year 15 - 26: prostitution (plus factory work)
year 27 - ?: factory work

Posted by A hunk a hunk o hot brown lusciuosness at 12:08 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

seen today on facebook

is this the ultimate goal in our society?

really?

what the fuck, man.

Posted by A hunk a hunk o hot brown lusciuosness at 11:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

- We pause this program for a brief moment of ennui and uncertainty - .

days pass and i barely notice.

weeks and months to the wind.

yesterday though. yesterday i remember.

the big black lady at the corner Grease Peddler... lazily standing at the order window even though i was trying to get my slice of cheeses pizza through the small opening. Blocking most of the 2-foot square hole with her girthy form as she waited for her chicken wings.

the laundromat. it's convenient prepaid cards make fishing for quarters a thing of the past. the suds, the smell, the ritual.

Fee Fee's presence.

Miss Mollie got over her fear and discovered the magic of spreadsheets.

the beef stew at Collado restaurant and that familiar part of East Broadway.

the walk down Broadway and around East New York and Brownsville. Pimpy mens clothing stores. African markets in Crown Heights. Delicious nuggets of ghetto entertainment everywhere. People yelling and carrying on.

The relative quietness of our corner of Bed-Stuy.

This apartment, a living sacrifice to Flux and Form.

a kiss or two. a touch. a thought. a feeling.

things went on. stuff was said and done.

Really, not much happened. But it seemed like 5 days passed - all slow and detailed.

It's already disappearing - creeping into the void of All Yesterdays.

Posted by A hunk a hunk o hot brown lusciuosness at 05:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

The first weekend in many months that felt something like rest.

the dread never fully abates. since late last year, it has been the dread of not knowing.

not knowing if i had what it takes to sustain a higher level of lifestyle complexity - higher expenses, unknown emotional road map and all.

but things just keep rolling along.

different, stranger? yes.

harder? no. not really.

along with the heat and humidity of a Brooklyn spring/summer comes a dull enveloping blankness.

Continue reading "weekend" »

Posted by A hunk a hunk o hot brown lusciuosness at 10:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

It's the first scorcher of pre-summer here in Brooklyn. I'm sitting on the bed, power-snacking on Hershey's Kisses and homemade seltzer.

Mollie is in the shower. We're going to Bushwick's open studio event today. Dozens of artists and venues are opening their studios. Showing their work, having performances and such.

It should be uber-hipsterific. Much drinking of Pabst Blue Ribbon and other low quality headache-inducing brew and other irony-centric shenanigans.

Give me a Newcastle any day. I don't care if it's up to a buck-seventy-five a bottle. It doesn't punish like swill punishes.

I'm wearing one of Mollie's T-shirts. Her "Technics" record player one. It fits so tight yet is far less gay-ey than her gray shirt with the neck cut out.

You might say I look very "Greg Barnett-ish"

mm hm.

yeah.

In August, Mollie and I are having a "First Annual Bed-Stuy Artist-Open-Studio-Day-on-Monroe-Street-between-Stuyvesant-and-Lewis catty-corner-from-the-drug-house-that-the plain-clothes-NYPD-appear-to-be-targeting-regularly"

Yes. It will be something like the Mar Vista "moon" parties.

Be there bitches.

Posted by A hunk a hunk o hot brown lusciuosness at 10:05 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I didn't FTP into any work networks, either in Manhattan or in L.A, last night.

Unlike the previous day, I didn't wake up at 3am and continue to modify and optimize web pages - no work-from-home-and-continue-to-work-on-site shenanigans.

When I got home last night I trimmed the plant up front. A continuation of the massive trimming the day before. I also sawed a 2x4 into pieces, building a low ramp for pushing my new (new for me, but 3.4 decades old itself) motorcycle up near the front stoop and off the street.

Having a night's sleep - deep sleep - blissfully emotionally released from work. Knowing that it all has to be done eventually. Knowing there are other, more enjoyable, things to do in conjunction with that universe.

Knowing.

Knowing in my cells.

Other stuff. A balance of things. Jumping from one to the other. As needed. for their maintenance and most especially: for my peace of mind.

Every day. Every moment.

I just spent another few minutes trimming the bush some more. I'll try to find seeds today. Wild flowers might be good.

Something to fill the east end of the small dirt square being cleared.

I have plans to launch a new web site... or maybe just fold the idea here into YUMMYMEAT.

Something wonderfully big and slick, bringing to bear all the deep WEB 2.0 knowledge I've taught myself over the past 6 months... combined with other, older, obsessions.

It should be nice.

Oh yeah... and I blogged.

here. now.

Posted by A hunk a hunk o hot brown lusciuosness at 03:43 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Target, the big box retail store wants YOU to GET HIGH !

God fuckin bless Amerrikka.

Posted by A hunk a hunk o hot brown lusciuosness at 07:14 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

but i can't.

there's work to finish.

mentally beat. emotionally drained.

things to do. promises to keep.

other stuff pending. might have to come back in the summer if things don't go well.

i'd rather be in Brooklyn living my simple life. in perfect imperfection

oh well. once more unto the breach.

no one else is gonna step up.

some things are best entered into with extreme anger.

stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood.

Posted by A hunk a hunk o hot brown lusciuosness at 09:09 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

A "Nation of Laws"

the gloves drop

Home Rule

...but I wouldn't let one date my sister

Like the Iraq situation, except with beef not oil... follow the money

When lacking proper "mud" skinned targets, whitey feeds on his own. Yes, secession is an old tradition.

Posted by A hunk a hunk o hot brown lusciuosness at 07:33 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

When I receive messages like this, I get a little annoyed which is why it's even here in the first place :

seriously, though, can you ask greg to stop texting me mean things (that aren't true) in the middle of the night? i got a torrent of texts calling me fat and a loser and saying i can't perform without him (which is obviously untrue because i have a monthly paid gig) among other just off the wall things... i just really don't want my pot given to him or any energy mixed, i had his number deleted from my phone and all i responded was that his number was gone, do the same with mine, and i got all these "you are a fat loser" comments back. which just show how insecure he is and probably pissed that he can't pay his own rent, but really can you or mollie sit down with him and tell him this is really old and i really and honestly want nothing to do with his negative vibe? he started that last text war out of nowhere, also.
he sends one message and then says : "and i'm not reading your response loser" then he sends more saying the same thing...

Posted by A hunk a hunk o hot brown lusciuosness at 07:54 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

I was all half-passed-out, tweaking on some code changes, sort of annoyed that I had no Windows box to test out Internet Explorer compatibility of the web service I built.

If I had only brought my Vaio laptop back to New York.

Continue reading "Mollie got me a sandwich" »

Posted by A hunk a hunk o hot brown lusciuosness at 06:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

wait a sec.

maybe "things" don't "drive" me crazy.

maybe i just "am" crazy.

that sure would explain a lot.

it's all so clear now.

except not.

Posted by A hunk a hunk o hot brown lusciuosness at 06:15 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

so we've been mostly stuck in bed for over 4 days. Horrendous slow-moving flu.

the 2 corner Bodegas on this block are good for Campbell's Soup and OJ. I looked for a better alternative.

Continue reading "fresh to whitey" »

Posted by A hunk a hunk o hot brown lusciuosness at 04:33 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

it was / is a VIRUS.

mystery solved.

Posted by A hunk a hunk o hot brown lusciuosness at 04:26 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

between midnight last night and dusk today, I slept about 16 hours.

i'm about to pass out again.

still feeling all run down. On the edge of exhaustion.

maybe i'll take a short nap then start doing more work.

weird.

Posted by A hunk a hunk o hot brown lusciuosness at 10:43 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

oh no, you're gonna have to click below to see it...

Continue reading "THE best text message... ever" »

Posted by A hunk a hunk o hot brown lusciuosness at 07:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I believe EVERY day is good for one or both of these

Posted by A hunk a hunk o hot brown lusciuosness at 08:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

porn porn porn

it's good

it's funny

and it's good for you.

just like wheat germ

and carrots

and cocaine.

no wait...

all except that last part

Posted by A hunk a hunk o hot brown lusciuosness at 12:10 AM | Permalink | Comments (5)

there is a place in Mar Vista where i can check out of the world proper

drop out of time and space. out of the unnecessary worries, illusions and delusions of so-called reality.

to simply be. to rest and heal.

and in the emotional scatter-zone of L.A., that sort of thing is needed.

in New York, daily life is not so deeply out of balance. for me at least.

and i've said it before but it's good, for myself at least, to reiterate: the 1000-mile-stare i see in the eyes of most every man, woman and child on the morning train to Manhattan... it takes a dose of L.A. to put that kind of darkness into my perception.

why is "home" like that?

how is it that the big bad Metropolis, the scary "if-you-can-make-it-there" place, feels so familiar and inviting?

but the place i'm most familiar with - the place i was born and grew up in - is so damn annoying.

so ugly.

But in one small room there is air. That room in Mar Vista doesn't feel alien. It doesn't feel like the oxygen is sucked out of the place.

it doesn't feel like i'm in the presence of an enormous animal that you always feed but is never satisfied.

in my mind: L.A. = Need

unquenchable need. blind animal hunger.

maybe it's just me. the millions of people here might have a different take.

Posted by A hunk a hunk o hot brown lusciuosness at 11:35 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

This is not a New Year's resolution. I don't do those.

This is a life shift, a choice, a decision.

I definitely do those.

This test, this ongoing experiment presents different things: new stuff, seemingly new stuff, old familiar things, seemingly familiar things.

I have discovered, through subjective experience, that the super heightened stress cycles I put myself through are not so enjoyable anymore. The smaller, slower, easier-to-digest rollercoaster-cycles-of-angst... those are much more fascinating.

I have discovered also that being away from Mollie for an extended period --- and by extended I mean: more than a week --- is not good for me.

A "heightened stress cycle" that I once found to be enjoyable is now near intolerable.

So the resolution, the shift I require, is "Simplicity".

To me that means not taking on excessive tasks within impossible deadlines. That's not my speed anymore.

It means staying close to home; close to the woman I love. Because that's where I feel most comfortable and most inspired. Simplicity.

It means not measuring my self or my life along the polarity of Success-Failure, but instead meandering along the path of happiness and ease.

Whatever brings those things is where i want to be.

all abstract and subject to interpretation, I know.

still, that is my meditation: Simplicity.

Posted by A hunk a hunk o hot brown lusciuosness at 11:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Oh god.

I just successfully passed a javascript array object to a PHP array object, did some processing on it then passed it back again to a javascript array object.

No. You don't understand. This is big.

Native code objects!!! Disparate langauges talking the same lexicon!!!! The whole AJAX thing!

You don't care. You'd rather just surf porn and eat more Cheetos.

Yeah well screw you, buddy.

Posted by A hunk a hunk o hot brown lusciuosness at 11:59 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I have just discovered the Magical Goodness of semi-interactive Flash-based cartoon porn.

As Greg would agree, there's nothing like a little TENTACLE RAPE to fill out a day. (Actually making jokes/references to tentacle rape is what's inherently funny for the immature. i.e.- me, Greg, Brandon)

And what would we do without porn-O-rific FORCED FELLATIO?

The ENDING of this one needs to be seen. (wait for it... WAAIIIIIT... FORRR.... IT.... keep waittting.)

I was doing a Google search for "VIRTUOUS CHRISTIAN CHARITY" and these pages came up unexpectedly and without warning. Clearly there was nothing I could do but examine them in an objective and scientific manner.

It was God's Will.

Posted by A hunk a hunk o hot brown lusciuosness at 09:39 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

( the 3 greatest movies ever )

1) Yellow Submarine (duh)
2) Faster Pussycat Kill Kill !
3) Pee Wee's Big Adventure

Yeah. fuckin Angela was so passed out by the time the "Large Marge" scene came up.

Those pieces and parts - the songs or the fragments that keep coming back

the bright colors and easy to sing to melodies. the transparent genius that masks itself as just stuff, but cuts real deep. Notes just off and

George Martin. with only a 3-track to work with, mixing timeless beauty out of near nothing. Colors the rainbow doesn't know, painted by unknown craftsmen, inspired by the same amides... fleshing out the myth.

good/bad lines

poorly delivered by One Trick Ponies

but better than any Gajillion dollar Flockbuster you'll see at your local Google-Plex.

So crappy. So XXool.

Can you sleep, fuck or kill in the mouth of a T-Rex?

My girl has a big butt.

totally spank-able.

dig it.

it's all about the story baby.

"There are thousands and thousands of uses for corn. All of which I'll tell you about RIGHT NOW."

it's 3 a.m.

time to turn in.

P.S. - Angela just farted while sleeping on her sofa. 2 tiny high-pitched ones.

Posted by A hunk a hunk o hot brown lusciuosness at 03:14 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Yeah... i do like the range of work that i'm involved in.

the various endless iterations of experimentation. You can see my learning process within the morphing series of stuff I build.

but what next?

i'm thinking of maybe exploring the vastly untapped area of teledildonics.

Posted by A hunk a hunk o hot brown lusciuosness at 07:11 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

it's like i'm tired all the time.

is this how fat people operate?

this Hugh Grant movie sucks ass. The remote is like 5 feet away and I can't work up the energy to get it.

god i'm fat.

uhhhhhhhhh.

fat.

faaaaaaaaaaaaaat.

so fat.

i want bacon.

Posted by A hunk a hunk o hot brown lusciuosness at 11:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)