it’s not the large things that send a man to the madhouse

the shoelace
by Charles Bukowski.

a woman, a
tire that’s flat, a
disease, a
desire: fears in front of you,
fears that hold so still
you can study them
like pieces on a
chessboard…

it’s not the large things that
send a man to the
madhouse. death he’s ready for, or
murder, incest, robbery, fire, flood…
no, it’s the continuing series of small tragedies
that send a man to the
madhouse…

not the death of his love
but a shoelace that snaps
with no time left …

The dread of life
is that swarm of trivialities
that can kill quicker than cancer
and which are always there –
licence plates or taxes
or expired driver’s license,
or hiring or firing,
doing it or having it done to you, or
roaches or flies or a
broken hook on a
screen, or out of gas
or too much gas,
the sink’s stopped-up, the landlord’s drunk,
the president doesn’t care and the governor’s
crazy.

lightswitch broken, mattress like a
porcupine;
$105 for a tune-up, carburetor and fuel pump at
sears roebuck;
and the phone bill’s up and the, market’s
down
and the toilet chain is
broken,
and the light has burned out –
the hall light, the front light, the back light,
the inner light; it’s
darker than hell
and twice as
expensive.

then there’s always crabs and ingrown toenails
and people who insist they’re
your friends;
there’s always that and worse;
leaky faucet, christ and christmas;
blue salami, 9 day rains,
50 cent avocados
and purple
liverwurst.

or making it
as a waitress at norm’s on the split shift,
or as an emptier of
bedpans,
or as a carwash or a busboy
or a stealer of old lady’s purses
leaving them screaming on the sidewalks
with broken arms at the age of 80.

suddenly
2 red lights in your rear view mirror
and blood in your
underwear;
toothache, and $979 for a bridge
$300 for a gold
tooth,
and china and russia and america, and
long hair and short hair and no
hair, and beards and no
faces, and plenty of zigzag but no
pot, except maybe one to piss in
and the other one around your
gut.

with each broken shoelace
out of one hundred broken shoelaces,
one man, one woman, one
thing
enters a
madhouse.

so be careful
when you
bend over.

Rent Bukowski, Born into this. Or better yet, buy it.

Ow.

God dammit. I was just opening my new Utilikilt – the new black workman’s I bought after selling the Survival last month – and I did one of those stupid things. I keep my knives really really sharp. And I picked up the package and grabbed my gerber folder and slash. Only my aim was […]

God dammit. I was just opening my new Utilikilt – the new black workman’s I bought after selling the Survival last month – and I did one of those stupid things.

I keep my knives really really sharp. And I picked up the package and grabbed my gerber folder and slash. Only my aim was off and my finger happened to be right there.

And you know I slashed much much harder than I needed to. Taking out a little anger and frustration on the inanimate object, I guess, after a very disordered and frustrating day yesterday.

So I didn’t just cut my fingertip. I fuckin’ hacked it. Normally a super-sharp knife cut feels like almost nothing, but this felt like I’d just slammed my finger in a car door. And then it started bleeding.

I’m still soakin’ through bandaids. And typing without the use of my left index finger. Good thing blood and pain don’t bother me.

Memesday Morning

When you can’t really write you post song lyrics, or you do memes and quizzes. From Hiromi, who snagged it from El Diablo: 9 lasts 1. last place you were: (wow, that’s a vague question, I’ll treat it as a travel question): Southern CA. 2. last soda: Probably mountain dew but god knows how long […]

When you can’t really write you post song lyrics, or you do memes and quizzes.

From Hiromi, who snagged it from El Diablo:

9 lasts
1. last place you were: (wow, that’s a vague question, I’ll treat it as a travel question): Southern CA.
2. last soda: Probably mountain dew but god knows how long ago. I don’t really like soda. Though I do like jack and coke or cuba libras.
3. last kiss: too fucking long ago.
4. last movie seen: Bukowski: Born into This, which was brilliant.
5. last CD you listened to: Disney Bossa Nova. Pretty fucking close to brilliant, if you’re a disney fan and/or a bossa nova fan (I’m both).
6. last bubble bath: Alone? Um. Decades.
7. last time you cried: I never cry. Ever. Really.
8. last alcoholic beverage: A tasty chardonnay that I wish I’d written down the name of. It went well with Resident Evil.
9. have you ever gotten drunk and thrown up: Pretty much all of my twenties was spent drunk, though remarkably little actual thrwoing up. That I can remember, anyway. It’s been a long long set of years since the last time though.

8 “Have you evers”
1. have you ever dated someone twice: yes, i guess you could say that.
2. have you ever been cheated on: define ‘cheat’.
3. have you ever kissed somebody and regretted it: I never regret a kiss
4. have you ever fallen in love: all too often
5. have you ever been depressed: i used to think i never got depressed. Now, I wait for the day I’m not.
6. have you ever hit another person: Yes. Not often enough though. My life is filled with those who deserve it who I let slide.
7. have you ever skinny dipped: I own a hot tub. So, you know, yeah, lots.

7 states you’ve been to:
HI, OR, TX, WA, FL, DC, ID, IA, LA, MT, UT, WY, MD, VA, IL. That’s more than seven but I can never stop.

6 things you’ve done today.
1) Made coffee
2) Been called a twisted old fuck
3) Written up a stupid meme
4) driven kids to school
5) thought ‘*sigh*’
6) considered not going to work

But it’s only 9am am.

5 favorite things in no particular order (i’m going utterly random here)
the smell of a woman’s sweat
my tony creed skull ring
the feeling of being deep under water at night, with the lights out. Utter, complete peace.
hot, strong coffee
A woman’s face when she comes – to quote a stupid teevee show, when you’ve seen a woman’s come face, you’ve seen her soul.

4 favorite colors
I don’t really do favorite colors, which drives my kids crazy since they like to think of people as being somehow defined by their favorites; as they say in High Fidelity, “It’s not what you are like, it’s what you like that matters”

But if I have to pick:
1) Olive drab (The color people so often call khaki, but it’s Not Fucking Khaki, it’s OD. Khaki is *tan*).
2) British Racing Green (this is the color of my motorcycle, one of the reasons I love t his motorcycle).
3) Gray – one of the predominant colors in my wardrobe.
4) Purple.

3 people you can tell anything to.
There are tiers of this. There’s true anything, deepest-darkest, then there’s the ‘trust them with my life’, then there’s ‘know me really well’. I’m not gonna detail who lives in each tier, by Brutha Ray is on the list of three if I have to pick just three. One of the crazy people who help me stay sane, and I hope I’m that back for him.

2 things you want to do before you die:
Only two? Two at random then:
1) Write a novel
2) Publish something.

1 thing you regret:
Only one?
My regrets live deep in my soul. They turn a knife in my gut. They are few, the things I truly regret, but they are wounds that won’t heal.

And of course no tags. Steal or Don’t.

Spring Fever

ok, so it’s way too nice suddenly in sunny northern california to be inside or anywhere near a computer. I want to take the top off my jeep and just go, beach, mountains, whatever. Just out-fucking-side. Damn work. I don’t wanna be anywhere near computers…

ok, so it’s way too nice suddenly in sunny northern california to be inside or anywhere near a computer. I want to take the top off my jeep and just go, beach, mountains, whatever. Just out-fucking-side.

Damn work.

I don’t wanna be anywhere near computers…

skunked sex?

Suddenly I’m getting dozens of hits from people googling skunked sex. I don’t even know what that means. But somehow I’m getting hits. (scratches head. shrugs.) I like it better when I get hits on daddy fuck me really hard, but I’ll take what I can get.

Suddenly I’m getting dozens of hits from people googling skunked sex.

I don’t even know what that means. But somehow I’m getting hits.

(scratches head. shrugs.)

I like it better when I get hits on daddy fuck me really hard, but I’ll take what I can get.

Big Sports Weekends

This is where a different geek-side (Geekseid?) shows. This is where I go all sports geek. This weekend is the NFL draft. And I hate to admit how much I care. I’ve been known to watch at least part of the first round on teevee, and I always track progress throughout the draft weekend. I […]

This is where a different geek-side (Geekseid?) shows. This is where I go all sports geek.

This weekend is the NFL draft. And I hate to admit how much I care. I’ve been known to watch at least part of the first round on teevee, and I always track progress throughout the draft weekend.

I care who my teams (49ers, raiders, pittsburgh) take, I care who my friends teams take (miami, philly). I care who gets taken by rival teams (seattle, st louis).

I care who gets taken first, who falls in the rankings. I care about the last minute trades to jockey for position.

My team, the 49ers, have made a lot of bone-head draft moves in the last few years. Jim Drukenmiller chosen over Jake the Snake Plummer stands out as a particularly stupid one, but I look at our number one and two drafts – Mike Rumph, Kwame Harris, Israel Ifeanyi, J.J. Stokes, Reggie McGrew, Justin Smiley – and I don’t see a lotta spectatular talent. Our last year’s top pick, the highly paid Alex Smith, has yet to prove out and actually do a damned thing and to my mind he’s got expensive failure written all over him.

So the draft is, to me, both exciting and scary. I watch my team draft the way to watch a train wreck.


Then there’s Hockey. The sharks are up 3-1 vs Nashville in the first round of the stanley cup playoffs. They played a hard, thrilling game thursday, a physical game that they won, but didn’t dominate. They play in Nashville tomorrow (Sunday), and can put this to bed; or they can choke, and be back in San Jose next week. My boss has tickets to that next round, so I think he’s hoping for a choke, but I’d like to see this series over. This sharks team has the players to think Stanley Cup, but they have to play a lotta good hockey between now and then to have that happen.


I’m thinking about taking the top off my jeep. But you know what that means, every year. It means more rain. So, you know, maybe not quite yet.

Bay Area Essentials

Evidently the iTunes Music Store has released a playlist of what they call Bay Area Essentials. But the people at SFGate (Joel Selvin and Aidin Vaziri) don’t agree with this list. What do you think?

Evidently the iTunes Music Store has released a playlist of what they call Bay Area Essentials.

But the people at SFGate (Joel Selvin and Aidin Vaziri) don’t agree with this list.

What do you think?

Read more “Bay Area Essentials”

Geek Support

I’m trying to help a non-techie windows user ftp upload a bunch of data to my server for safe storage. Trouble is, when I think ftp, I think unix/macos command line (the way I do it):      [motorhead:~] kmac% ncftp -u username hostname.com So I need to direct said user to a good, easy to […]

I’m trying to help a non-techie windows user ftp upload a bunch of data to my server for safe storage.

Trouble is, when I think ftp, I think unix/macos command line (the way I do it):

     [motorhead:~] kmac% ncftp -u username hostname.com

So I need to direct said user to a good, easy to use windows tool/method.

It’s been six years since I’ve touched a windows machine. I have no idea what to set her up with.

Help a brutha out, windows geeks.

Go Sharks

God, I love hockey. I haven’t been a hockey fan for a long time; i tried, back in ’91 when the San Jose Sharks played their first couple seasons in the lovely Cow Palace in Daly City. But no one I knew particularly cared about hockey, and the team sort of sucked, and it’s really […]

God, I love hockey.

I haven’t been a hockey fan for a long time; i tried, back in ’91 when the San Jose Sharks played their first couple seasons in the lovely Cow Palace in Daly City. But no one I knew particularly cared about hockey, and the team sort of sucked, and it’s really hard to figure out hockey from watching it on teevee.

So while I always cared if the sharks were winning or losing, I just never got around to going to games.

That changed a couples seasons back. After years of trying to enjoy hockey games on teevee, my boss tossed me a couple tickets, given him by some sales droid from synopsys or cadence or mentor or some other CAD tools vendor. My boss has season tickets, so he didn’t need these. So I went, on a thursday night, taking Olivia, then nine or ten, with me.

I didn’t expect to last long. With a hyper-active nine-year-old who didn’t know a thing about the game sitting next to me, I figured we’d do well lasting into the second period. I was wrong though. We lasted through three regulation periods, and two overtimes; and when it was over, Olivia, almost passing out with exhaustion, still didn’t want the game to be over. She didn’t care really what the score was or even if we were winning, she just loved being there, the noise, the action, the wicked checking and fights on the ice. And I felt the same way. I loved it.

That night made hockey fans of the both of us.

I haven’t been to enough games since then – I tend to forget to buy tickets until the games I want to go to are sold out. I wish I could swing season tickets, but i don’t currently have the disposable income for it. And while I watch a few games each year, hockey on teevee is still a shadow of hockey live.

Hockey’s unique that way. I’m used to football, a game I know incredibly well. I know all the obscure rules and can often call plays from looking at formations. I’ve been a dedicated football fan since I was a kid. But no matter how much I loved going to football games back when I had my 49ers season tickets, the game is always better on teevee. It’s clearer what’s going on. The football experience is made for teevee, the pacing and structure of the game, it’s like they designed it with teevee in mind.

Even baseball works better on teevee. Unless you have great seats, you miss the core drama of baseball. The battle between pitcher and batter. The physical tension. Two men standing there not doing anything waiting, waiting, poised for a blur of frantic action, waiting. You feel the very air between them pull tight. That’s it, that’s baseball, and you can’t see it from the stands. So while baseball in a great park (like the Giants downtown-SF park, SBC park or pac bell park or whatever it’s called now) is a great experience, the game itself makes more sense in teevee.

Not hockey. Hockey is different.

Maybe it’s just the tiny puck. It’s hard enough to follow this thing from the stands. But more; hockey is a game of intense, frantic, crazed action. It’s a game where players move like fucking race cars, where the puck, the object of play, moves like a bullet, where bodies fly through the air and get pounded into the boards. The puck itself is dangerous, the audience sit behind protective glass and the players, most of them, are missing teeth.

But I think it’s the sound. You just don’t get it on teevee, no matter how good your system is. The scrape and crack and snick of blades on ice, the sticks clacking and whacking together, the sound of a two hundred pound player getting pounded into the side of the rink so hard you can feel your own ribs cracking. Hockey’s a highly sonic game. The ice itself reflects sound in a way no softer playing surface can. You can feel a check, and when a goal is scored, the room simply roars. No other sporty I’ve seen live has the sound factor hockey has.

You also get little things that teevee never shows you, and this is common to most sports; when you’re there you can see a play develop around the edges. Baseball outfielders coming in tight or backing up based on who’s at bat and some other signals I don’t know; football safeties and cornerbacks adjusting, dropping deep or crowding up to the line. The camera will pull in tight and show you pitcher or quarterback, and you miss the edges where, often a play is made.

But Hockey’s different in that the plays are set up, not in ten, or fifteen, or twenty seconds, but in two or three seconds. A player intercepts the puck and suddenly every player on the ice, on both teams, are frantically adjusting, skating at blinding speed in different directions, and you’re lost; where the fuck are they going, what’s he waiting for. And then suddenly you see, and they’re passing the puck and shooting on goal. And it’s all just a blink. It’s too fast and too subtle, by the time the cameras can catch it and the director can decide to show it, it’s over and you just see the center shooting, and the goalie in his sumo-wrestler pads doing an impossible split to save a goal. You don’t see what both teams did to set up. And they never show that stunn in re-plays, because it’s just guys whizzing around.

I’ve seen enough hockey, finally, that I can track it on teevee. I watched my San Jose Sharks disassemble the Nashville Predators last night, first round in this year’s Stanley Cup playoffs. The Sharks now lead the series 2-1. I watched this with Olivia, up past her bedtime, watching with me. The announcers mentioned that it’s been seven hundred and eight days since the last time San Jose hosted a Stanley Cup playoff game, and I realized that Olivia and I were at that game, watching the Sharks lose that day, but not caring, because just being there made it wonderful.

I love this sport. I want to be at the games.