OVER THE PHONE ADVICE THAT TURNED INTO A FUN LITTLE WRITING EXERCISE WITH MY 32 YEAR OLD, DRUG ADDICTED, EX-CON, BROTHER-IN-LAW CONFIDANT WHO WORKS AT McDONALD'S AND LIVES IN HIS PARENT'S BASEMENT WHILE HE GETS HIS BANKROLL TOGETHER

     "Dude, I can't do that, I've got a memory like a mouse."

     "They actually have good memories."

     "Well, then something not a mouse that doesn't have a good memory."

     "See, man, that's already worthy!"

     "Hey, this IS how you go crazy, you're right!"

     "But seriously, man, what was the whole thing about, about me going to you for advice? What was it you had to say about that?"

     "See man, that's what I like about you, you think so far out of the box it's not a box anymore, it's a circle, and you just go around and around and you think you're just going in circles but you're really not, you're actually getting somewhere!"

     "Yeah, but where is it gettin' ya?"

     "Haha. Yeah, you know, you end up chasing your own tail but in a way, you're clarifying things for me. See, you're right there, man. I'm jealous of you."

     "Dude, there's nothing to be jealous of. Believe me, you don't want any of this shit. It's a million times worse than I thought it would be, and I thought it was gonna be pretty fucking bad!"

     "Yeah, hey, and you saw those towers coming down!"

     "Dude, I predicted it!"

     "I know, that's what I mean!"

     "I really did. And I tell people that and there's so many people that did. There was so much energy to that thing. It's like you've gotta think outside of time."

     "Yes, that's exactly right! All human constructs have to come down over time for us to move forward. Otherwise we'd just be the same thing over and over again. It goes against all of evolution."

     "Dude, I think I should go ahead and write in us talking about what I'm writing. That would be pretty hard to do though, right?"

     "Yeah, it would be. It's been pretty hard to this point."

     "See man, it takes so much concentration but then you've gotta be loose with it and be willing at any moment to totally let go of the thing you're concentrating on. It's really a lot like climbing. You concentrate on these little holds but then you're really only just using them."

     "That's exactly right, you gotta be fluid with it."

     "Dude, Sarah just screamed down that we've gotta go to Ikea."

     "Haha, you have to put that in there! That really just happened!"

     "Dude, you've gotta get your shit together! We gotta write together! We'd be like Elton John and that other guy!"

     "Haha! Man, I was just thinking that very thing!"

     "No way, really?"

     "I'm serious!"

     "Hey man, you don't care if I title this something about my 32 year old, ex-con, brother-in-law who lives in his parent's basement do you?"

     "No way, man, are you kidding me? I don't care. I'm actually starting to embrace the whole ex-con thing."

   

BLACK GIRLS IN SKIRTS

"That's not racist. How is that racist?"

"You wouldn't say that to a black person, would you? Or you're not gonna Facebook something like that."

"Yeah, no. But it's true, right? I don't mean they look bad or anything, it's just that for some reason, it just, I don't know, it just doesn't look right, ya know?"

"I don't know, man, I've never really thought about it... So, dude, like what are you gonna do? I mean, are you making any money here?"

"Fuck, man, if we didn't have savings, we would've already had to move in with my in-laws. I don't know, man. I feel like I'm like flying through space in a goddamn space capsule or something. I don't know what to do. It's scary, man. I just get worse and worse. You know, I just... I don't know, if I didn't have kids..."

"I'm telling you, man, you gotta write. You gotta make the time to write. It really is your only salvation."

"There's no salvation, especially in writing. Writing's a one way ticket to fucking hell. I'm starting to wonder if I'm not really a writer at all. Maybe this is just how it feels, ya know? Maybe I'm just supposed to live with this shit?... There's this dude that came in the other day. I don't know his name. It's embarrassing, man, I don't know anyone's name. I think he's friends with that dude, you know that dude that looks like Perry Farrell."

"Oh, man, I can't STAND that fucking guy!"

"He really is the worst fucking piece of shit in this whole fucking town. I hate that fucker more than that fucking prick that fell down the stairs that time. I had to kick him out again the other day. He's not allowed in here anymore."

"Yeah, he's a fuckin' asshole."

"They're all a bunch of fuckin' assholes. I can barely stand the ones that I like."

"(Haha) I don't know how you do it, man."

"Me neither. Anyway, this guy, he comes in every now and then. He's alright I guess. But all he talks about is writing. I guess he's read some of my shit on my blog."

"Does he like it?"

"I don't know, he never said. Probably not. He works at some publishing company. He went to the Iowa school and shit. He's always naming all these writers I've never even heard of."

"How old is he?"

"Oh, he's young, mid-twenties maybe. He's a nice guy, you know. He's pretty funny. But you can just tell he hasn't really lived. To me, in order to write, to REALLY write, you know, you have to have been dragged through life. It's gotta almost be like a form of suicide."

"Yeah, well..."

"But anyway, he's got a few short stories out in this online magazine. I told him I'd check 'em out."

"Didja?"

"Yeah. I read 'em this morning. He's good, man. I mean, like he's REALLY fucking good!"

"Really?"

"Yeah. But fuck, man, writing's the easy part."

I FUCKING LOVE IT!

     No way, man, I fucking love it! I love it all! I love John Mayer. I love Carson Daly. I love that coked up Ty dude. What's that show, Extreme Makeover? Lou Dobbs, Jay Leno, Kelly Ripa. Oh, man, could you imagine having to deal with that little beast?! I bet her turds look like marbles. Don't you think that's who should've played Tom Hanks's role on Castaway? Hey, did I tell you I saw the Oak Ridge Boys the other day on Diners Drive-Ins And Dives? I sure did! My man, Guy, was down in Nashville, checking out some middle eastern place. Ricky Skaggs was there too. He has long hair now. It's all good, man. Alicia Keys was on Good Morning America the other day. Yep, that's right, she was singing that goddamn New York song again. Man, do yourself a favor and Google the lyrics. Wolf Blitzer, Burt Wolf, Katie Couric. Mike Wallace and Andy Rooney in the same year! Anderson fucking Cooper, man! Could you imagine his apartment? I mean, just the bathroom alone. Not a Cue-Tip out of place. Oh, man, I love it all so much! I'd watch Fox News every night for hours at a time if my wife would let me. Don't think I haven't paused it many many times on Hannity's head. That part has me mesmerized. I tried to capture it once with Henry's crayons but it didn't come out very good. He brakes all his crayons in half. QVC, The Christian Network. There's no end to it. I sometimes watch The Voice just to see those creatures whip around in those stupid fucking chairs the way they do. Isn't that that fucker from Maroon 5 that's on it? I met that asshole once. We talked for a long time. It was years before he "made it". We were at a party together at some squat house on the lower east side. C-Squat they called it. Man, that was some crazy shit! You ever go there? People actually lived there! I watched a pitbull nearly bite a girl's cheek off! Anyway, I remember standing there, listening to him talk, thinking how much I would enjoy shoving a long screwdriver up one of his nostrils. I haven't seen that show, The Middle, but it's gotta be terrible. Two Broke Girls, Boardwalk Empire. What a hunk of shit that is. Game Of Thrones? I mean, that's just gotta be the worst thing imaginable. How many homeless people could you feed on that budget? No, just put it right over there on top of all the other shit. Nothing upon nothingness. Another Judd Apatow movie? Good, great. Yeah, no, I'll probably watch it. "Hey, what's your favorite batman movie?"
     "None of 'em. They all suck."
     Hey, did I tell you I've lost my taste for bananas? I've always loved bananas. What do you think it means? It's really got me worried. What does any of it mean? I haven't had a sip of alcohol since New Year's and I'm more drunk than ever. I started working out again. I'm eating right, I started running. I went up the mountain last night. I've even been doing my yoga where I invent the moves while listening to my Tibetan monk chant shit. The Lama's Chants: Songs Of Awakening, some dude named Lama Gyurme. The best one is Rain Of Blessings. I'm telling you, it'll change your goddamn life. Not really. I actually feel worse than ever. Oh, wait, The Office! I can't STAND The Office! I hate all that overdone, dead-pan humor. I admit, it was funny at first, but how long are they gonna milk that shit? And the camera work. It gives me a fucking headache. I hate 30 Rock too. Modern Family? Yeah, I can sometimes stomach it. But, of course, my favorite thing of all to watch on television is CMT. It never fails me. God, I love that shit!

The Night Rob Penner Threw Pretzels At My Head

     The night Rob Penner threw pretzels at my head. It was the first week of 2013, week one of my long overdue, unavoidable, humiliating, soul sucking, sad, degrading, deflating, reluctant bid for yet another summit of Mt. Cheese. By my calculations, it is exactly 17.6 times more difficult to do something you don't want to do than something you do want to do. Anyway, John-Anthony came in all giddy and weird. He's got some exciting plans you know. He orders a Templeton rye and I hand it to him with a soda back. He looks down at it, smiling, stabbing it a few times with the snip. I look over and see Matt Hutchins, his big wide plank of a chest pressing up to the bar. "You're so handsome," he says. 
     "YOU'RE so handsome," I say. It's our thing, it never gets old. We stand there, pointing at each other, smiling. We both know precisely what the other knows, we both know the ridiculousness of pain. I pour him a bourbon on the rocks and move along. Dalton's there, talking it up with some people by the taps. Some dude I have never liked is telling him something. Dalton looks down, nodding, then he slaps the bar hard with a laugh. He points at the guy, wanting to say something, but the dude keeps talking. He runs a hand through his hair, he rubs his wet lips between a thought. As always, he's well dressed, layers of tweed, a vest. I can't see his shoes, of course, but I'm sure they're spectacular. But there's something utterly filthy about him. It's his soul which burns inefficient, like an old beater smoking along the highway. He's young but it is very possible that he will be better than any of us if he can only make it as long as we have. "Where the hell's Chip?" I think. And then wouldn't you know it, I see Chip! He's trimmed his beard a bit. He looks good. He's wearing a cool leather jacket which fits him well. I tell him how much I like his jacket. He smiles and says thanks, knowing I mean it. I'm always struck by his eyes, two of the saddest, most kind eyes to ever twinkle above a beard. And just then I see Mike Burdge. "Hi Mike," I say. 
     "Hi Phil," he says. He then looks around, his hands drumming lightly upon the bar. "Let's see, what do I want?" he says. 
     "I don't know," I say. I really don't. And neither does he.

The American Dream

The American dream: The endless pursuit of man-made trickeries which keep us from pursuing what we were put here to pursue. It gets us nowhere, it grants us no redemption whatsoever, no understanding, no meaning. In fact, all it does is kill off those very things that could possibly point us in the right direction. In all our achievements, we only shine a brighter light into an ever worsening fog. There is no longer such thing as a "simple man" here in America, a man who is at peace with himself with very little, for even that little bit, whatever it may be, and therefore his self within it, is as much a lie as anything. I've found that most, or at least, many "accomplished" people in this world actually DO realize this and often struggle with it, but in the end, nearly all of them say, "Fuck it! The hell with it all! What's the point if everything's so completely fucked up? I might as well live out my life with money and a bit of ease. I've got children for Christ's sakes!" Yes, the conundrum of our plight is that it is all most surely instinct and therefore as natural as can be. We all must find shelter in the storm. And what a storm it is! We have been lessened as a people and we have never needed to be more. It is always at our weakest when we must be our strongest, and at our strongest we have little sympathy for the weak. On and on it goes, faster and faster on these cold hard tracks, pitching downward into oblivion. Some of us are in first class, laughing while swirling another cocktail, some of us are locked in the bathroom, shitting our brains out, most of us are just sitting there, hardly thinking at all, our heads wobbling upon our stupid necks. Maybe you'll get up and get a pack of Doritos and a Coke? Or maybe not? Hell, maybe you never made it on the train at all? Maybe that check didn't clear and your card didn't work at the little kiosk? Who knows? The only thing we can agree on, the only thing we have in common, is that we all know it is best to enjoy whatever fragments of purity and joy we can find. Ask almost anyone why they do what they do and almost without exception their answer sounds reasonable and just, for in our own way, misguided or not, we are all in pursuit of what we think is the light. We race towards the end of that tunnel, to where we think it lies, all the while all those little slivers here and there which seep in through the walls, which once allowed us to endure, now roll by, hardly a blur. I say, either we find the hand brake and pull that sucker once and for all, or we simply hold hands and leap off. Come on, who's with me? What the hell else are we to do? 

MORE PHONE CONVERSATIONS WITH MOM 1/1/13

Mom: "You just want to shock people."

Me: "No I don't! I'm serious! I mean, why is that so crazy? Why can't I ask the plumber if I can see his penis? I just want to see things, I want to know things."

Mom: "Oh, you've seen one, you've seen 'em all."

Me: "Yeah, I guess you're right... Hey, Henry, say happy new year to gramma Karen."

Henry: "Happy new year, gramma Karen. I love you. I'm going on that really really fast hill with my bike and then again on another big big bumpy hill in the snow and I will crash really really hard! Okay, bye!"

Mom: "He's so cute."

Me: "He's insane. HENRY, STAY OFF THAT ICE!... I'm seriously thinking about checking myself into some hospital. i'm not gonna make it much longer with this mind."

Mom: "Oh, they'd just put you on medication and then you'd never write again."

Me: "They would, wouldn't they?"

Mom: "Of course they would."

Me: "So what should i do? What would you do?"

Mom: "I don't know, Philby. I don't understand anything anymore. It's all this internet crap if you ask me. It's just... Oh, I don't know, everything's just turning to shit."

Me: "Yeah, it is. It's incredible! I couldn't imagine a better time to be a writer if you could write it."

Mom: "Well then write it."

Me: "I am. I'm trying to.... Hey, what happened that time you jumped out of that police car?"

Mom: "What? I never did anything of the sort."

Me: "Yes you did! In Lubbock. You took off running through a field in your nightgown.!"

Mom: "I most certainly did not!"

Me: "Yes you did!"

Mom: "Philby, I promise you I did not. Maybe you SHOULD check yourself into a hospital."

Me: "Really?"

Happy New Year!

didn't Hitler dabble briefly (buddhism)? and Ted Kazynski? it's all such a fine line. ya know, I got a knock-off CASH shirt from my mother for Xmas. I'm tempted to wear it as a joke but I'm not sure if it will come across that way. not that I really care. maybe that's even more of a reason to wear it? I'm never up for winter anymore, or summer, or anything else for that matter. I like days that surprise you- cool days in summer, warm in winter. I figure one out of every 800 or 900 conversations I find myself involved in are even slightly amusing. I'm baffled by the mailman and customer service representatives. how the hell can they do it with a straight face? it's like being a soldier. I could never do that. I would never know who the enemy was. I'm jealous of cats and men who drive beer trucks. one day I would love to drive around in a police car and wave at people and pull up beside them and roll down the window and hang my arm out and say a few pleasantries. they would think, "wow, what a great guy that policeman is. he's no different than any of us." the problem is, I don't think I could arrest anyone. you see, my imagination is a curse, a fatal condition. I would get rid of it in a second. all in all, I would have to say that I think we all know that we are currently at the peak of something. we have no idea what it is but it's refreshing to see all those people that I thought would never pick up on such a thing becoming completely derailed. there is nothing better for a Republican than a Democrat and vice versa. there is no doubt we are all in this thing together. on the way home from Canada there other day, I saw two trucks towing cows packed in their cold trailers headed south on the interstate. we ended up alongside them in line at the border. I could barely make 'em out through those little holes, but every now and then I saw a big sad eye and the steam from their breath and the shuffling and mooing and the thought of their cruel fate so lonely like the truth of it all, like the wind or the lack of wind or all those dead white fish that day when I hiked over those boulders onto that beach at Lake Altus that winter when I thought for sure my world was over. that was almost 10 years ago. looking back, all those problems were about as significant as running out of coffee or stubbing your toe on the way to the bathroom. really, all we can do is endure and hope we don't cause too much grief for anyone. I guess it's over when you lose your taste for bananas. which I fear I have. Happy New Year, people.