daem

Sounds like a pretty sweet deal to me too.

i'm listening to the dead boys right now. the pogues do a version of "and the band played walzing matilda", i think. but i can't listen to that right now. i think i'd kill myself.

i've been in a pondering mood.
i have three moods, really, or three stages of thinking that i cycle through. there's the pondering one. it's conducive to sitting around by myself, doing a lot of writing, thinking, drawing. then there's the anti-pondering one. it's conducive to heavy drinking, but not the depressed sort of heavy drinking. it's sort of a very shallow sort of nihilism. i don't want to wax philosophical, i don't want to discuss the finer points of human existence. i want to live. i want to raise hell and drink myself to death, because i figure that the answer to that great ever-pressing question of "why" is simply, "why not?" in knowing there are no answers, i'm free from the search for them. and then there's the darkest, lowest mode of thinking. it's the sour, low-down and hateful one. where i'm bogged down by the world and everything in it, and nothing helps, not the company of friends, not booze enough to sail a damned ship on, not anything. and i sit and stare and don't talk to anyone, just mill about and let the voices in my head take over. and i get real hopeless and think i'm never going to come back to life.
and these three stages go round and round, last for varying increments of time, sometimes days, sometimes weeks, sometimes months. but it always comes around, eventually.
and right now, i've been thinking the same shit you have. and i've been watching highlander again, which makes me even madder because i could sure as hell use an extra two or three hundred years. because good or bad or worst, however it might be, there's always more beyond the next curve. there's always another story to tell, another story to hear, another experience, another lesson, another chance to teach... hell. why not live forever? maybe i will. if i figure out how, i'll sure as hell let you know. it's like the last line from one of my favorite movies. "i hope we never die!... think there's any chance of it?"

...oops... i swear i am gonna send that c.d. ... i'll send two to make up for it, just as soon as i get back to NOLA!... i have been to the Biloxi Casino. i think i was 19 and too drunk to remember much. lots of flashing lights... but congrats on getting the job! i guess it's better than McD's, eh?
i don't do well in casinos. i just end up losing all my quarters and not being able to afford to drink. the last time i was in one, i went to Harrah's for my ex's 21st b-day. we went with his new girl (some hippy piece of trash, flaky as hell. i think she was a dancer.) and our good pal thalia the greek and her geeky boyfriend. so not only was i the fifth wheel, i was in the awkward situation of hanging out with my ex and his new fling. ug. i even had to give her my old i.d. because she was like 19. thalia and i both despised her greatly. out of principle, first, because she was dating my ex. and second because she was a flaky, hippie piece of trash. it was pretty convinient that she was lame, really. i don't know what i'd do if he actually dated any cool chicks. but anyway. i ended up swearing that i'd never go there again. i just couldn't deal. i get really schitzo in big crowds, and the situation was not a good one. so i swore off casinos. now i just shoot dice in the bar and play poker and lose my money privately. i figure if i'm gonna get rooked, it might as well be by my friends, and i might as well be able to get good and drunk in the process. (i swear to god, Harrah's waters down their whiskey. i fucking saw their cheap asses.)

um. ok. i think i got sidetracked somewhere up there... congrats on the new job, in any case. sorry you can't come down soon. maybe for Halloween? that would rock. RAWK. i am hyped up on caffiene right now. so if i'm loopy. well. blame it on the coffee. and the fact that it's 8am.

one thing about the south that's wierd- i now call everyone sweetheart. male, female, young, old. it might be a service industry thing. but i don't think so... i just didn't acquire the habit until i started tending bar. but no one seems to mind; in fact, they seem to think it's pretty ordinary. i can't wait until the colleges get back in and some new york femminazi goes off on me for it. heh. femminazis...
after reading your journal today, i have decided that we do need to get drunk and shoot the shit. i get the dream thing too.

i am going to stop taking up space in your journal, though.

sorry for the long-ass reply, and doubly sorry for being lazy and not sending the c.d. yet!

xoxoxo, -Hyena.

like you told me once: life goes from sugar to shit awful damn quick.
hang in there. how about coming down to NOLA the weekend after next? like aug 15-17? just an idea.
take care, kiddo.
-Hyena.

i think bad beer is better than a bad blowjob- it doesn't have teeth.
i am going to be out of town the 30 of july- aug. 8 or so. my dad's birthday. then i gotta do my man's birthday on the 11 of aug. after that, though, i should have a week or so before school starts again. if you come, come on a weekend. we can drink for free that way.

DRUNK POSTING!

well, it's better than no posting, eh? and i double/triple/quadruple check myself on spelling when i'm drunk. so that's got to count for something, right?

isolation. total isolation... is hard. i could do it. but knowing i have folk to seek me out in that isolation is very comforting indeed. i wasn't really in the mood for going out tonight; i'd been drawing for a few hours. alone and happy being alone. but my friends called me, and something made me take up the offer. i mean,i would take a bullet for ant of these kids. they're good folk. and if they request my presence, i'm more honored than annoyed. though i am often annoyed. like today. but i get over it. friends keep you in touch with reality. even if my goal this week was the oppisite. ah well. fuck it.

if i had a train of thought, i've lost it. derailed, if you will. know you are loved, and take care.
-Hyena.

OH! i remember now. sorry. i was going to tell you that a job isn't selling out. we all have to eat. use the system; make it best work for you. the sell-out deal is when you take some "respectable" job because it's what's expected of you. because you think that's what you should do. instead of sticking to your gut and deciding you'd rather be happy than have a career as a paper pushin' nobody. McDonalds is not a "career". it is a means to an ends. and whether or not it's considered punk, we all can't live off daddy's money. some of us need that McJob. so fuck anyone who tells you different. fuck them up their fucking asses. tell 'em Hyena said so.
xoxo- Drunken Hyena.
(forgive sloppiness, misspelling and any other offense.)