Accomplishing My Childhood Dream

in

I remember a time in the first grade, when my teacher had the class
draw pictures of what we all wanted to be when we grew up.

Most kids I knew wanted to be sports stars or astronauts.

Not me.

I wanted to be a GARBAGE MAN.

Why did I want to be a garbage man?

Because I wanted to ride on the back of the truck.
Why the fuck ELSE?

I distinctly remember watching the garbage truck drive by, and thinking it was so friggin' cool that a guy would just ride on the back, standing on the bumper the entire time. Everyone else on the road had to ride INSIDE their cars and sit in boring SEATS. The garbage man lived on the edge, balancing on his chariot, and sailing with the wind as he moved from homestead to homestead. Ahhhh yes... it was a romantic sight indeed.

And since I spent most of my spare time
playing in the dirt,
and rooting through dumpsters looking for treasure,
it seemed as though the life of a garbage man
was the perfect life for me.

Well... I had an epiphany tonight.

I am going to ACCOMPLISH my childhood dream.

I am going to apply to be a garbage man, dammit.
Just so I can say that I accomplished all the goals I
set for myself when I was 6 years old.

Beautiful Neighborhood Woman
"My, my... who ARE you?
And how did you get rid of all my unwanted unmentionables?"

Derek
(squinting and speaking with confidence)
"Well ma'am, my name is Derek.
Derek Christopher Doublin.
and I'm in charge of...
WASTE MANAGEMENT."

(Woman swoons, faints, and falls into a pile of leaves.)
(Derek jumps onto bumper of truck and zooms away.)

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The Sugar Bush Squirrel.

In an earlier blog, I went on a rant about squirrels.
In that blog I included a picture of a squirrel in a fancy, royal outfit.

I did not know it at the time,
but that picture is a part of a 5,000 part series featuring a live squirrel.
YES... FIVE THOUSAND PHOTOS.

His name is "The Sugar Bush Squirrel" and he is a real, live Eastern Gray Squirrel who is owned and photographed by a woman named Ms. Kelly Foxton. The Sugar Bush Squirrel was rescued as a baby in her nest from a tree that was cut down.

Apparently, The Sugar Bush Squirrel loves to dress up, and has over 2,000 outfits (TWO THOUSAND SQUIRREL OUTFITS!! GLAMOROUS!!!) with matching hats and accessories. She also has her own, posh studio with an elaborate stage and thousands of stage props.

You can buy prints, calendars, and doodads HERE:
THE SUGAR BUSH SQUIRREL

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The Age Pain Equation

in

Sometimes,
I end up sitting next to bitter, old guys at the bar,
that love to play the age card like its going out of style.

I do believe that with age comes education, life perspective,
and often times more intelligent and mature approaches to living.
But I have to say, when I see people act as if they have the market cornered on pain,
simply because of how old they are,
I have to bite my lip.

The age card does not automatically earn my sympathy when used in reference to desolation. And I don't buy it when people claim their torture to be "unique" or "special" because of their age.

Why?
It has been my experience, that age does not set the bar for how much suffering a person has been subjected too.

I have met CHILDREN that have experienced more pain in a single month than many 60 year olds have seen their entire lives. For example, a few years ago, I was substitute teaching at Linder Elementary in Austin, Texas. Just before the morning bell, a kid by the name of Damien walked in and sat down on the floor. He had his turtle neck pulled up over his head and he was acting bizarre and distant, so I decided to pull him aside and ask him what was wrong. It took a little bit of coaxing, but he eventually opened his flood gates, and proceeded to avow that he had just watched his father stab his mother TO DEATH in front of his very own eyes. I was in shock. I abruptly called the principal and in less than an hour, Damien was whisked away by the police. I never saw him again. I found out later that Damien's father had tortured his mother in the kitchen before she died, forcing him to sit in the living room throughout the entire ordeal.

Age does not mean ANYTHING when it comes to suffering,
as one, single swipe of the knife can spill enough blood
to stain a life forever.

So to all the bitter, old men out there,
including the bitter, old men of the future (one of which will probably be me),
never judge pain by age...

judge it by the weight of the eyes.

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Remix Radiohed

in

Radiohead in cooperation with Apple just released some bits and pieces to their song "Nude" so that listeners may edit and remix them however they like. It's a really cool idea. I remember Beck doing something similar during his release of "Midnite Vultures".

It's always a good learning experience to dissect a song and I've been having a lot of fun listening to Jonny Greenwood's individual guitar parts as well as the isolated track of Thom York singing a cappella.

You can get the parts and listen to the different remixes here:

REMIX RADIOHEAD

TEA!

in

So... I became a tea drinker this week.
Recently, a very special (and talented) woman
introduced me to some assorted tea.

On Thursday, I drank about 7 cups, each cup double bagged,
and stayed up for 2 days straight with no additional caffeine needed.

Granted, I kept thinking that all the leaves on the road were rats darting in front of my car, which was rather disturbing, but overall I still managed to maintain my limited social skills as well as the majority of my mental faculties.

For most of this week, I've been at The Jimmy Kimmel Show
meeting the producers, the writers, and the field directors
and preparing for a possible directing gig there.
I wasn't sure how I would like it as I'm told the fast paced production schedule
of late night television can be stressful and annoying.

But everyone was extremely gracious and kind,
and being WACKED out on that tea actually helped my social skills
for some reason unbeknownst to me. Really, the entire experience surprised me and I never felt uncomfortable once, even going on 2 days of no sleep.

So, now I'm a tea drinker.
And I can finally lay off all the crack and angel dust. FINALLY.
I was starting to get tired of having illegitimate children and chewing on my arm.

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Sleep Deprived Rodent Rant 2008

in ,
sometimes I can feel my hands slipping off the handle,
and my fingers snapping off the steel bar
one by one,
each with a sweaty squeak.

and yet EVEN THEN...
there in the throes of lunacy,
i cannot shake the feeling
that i'll never find the ground under my feet,
because i've never been grounded to begin with.

i have no idea what the ground feels like.

sometimes I wish my mind was less cluttered,
and I was just a big ol'
PAUNCHY SQUIRREL

with only one goal pounding through my being:

COLLECT MOUTH-WATERING ACORNS.

ahhhh, to wake up
wanting ACORNS and ONLY ACORNS
like fat kids
want butter beans.

wait...

scratch that.

not butter beans.

like fat kids want
MARSH MELLOW DINOSAUR EGGS.

ahh yes, to surrender to instinct completely.

the equanimity
of a pitch black mind
following
the bolt pistol.

i suppose even squirrels are
stuck with the mind mess, though.

they don't just think about acorns.

no ma'am.
that's only a romantic cavity we artists
desperately WANT squirrels to FILL.

The harsh reality of the world is:
Squirrels are NOT cartoons.

They are not simple and innocent.

no ma'am.
squirrels attack old people and children
and violently fuck everything they see.

(even dirty, old, grey shoes by the side of the road,
covered in dryer lint).

squirrels zip around like
retards on acid,
constantly reacting
to every jerk of the world.

sadly, they too have hard boiled eyes
and wet-towel-minds,
rigged with springs,
taut with tension,

and filled with triggers, cyphers,
and empty actions
they will never understand.

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Snapped this the other Day

While out driving in the country, I found two things that don't go together. They were both by the side of the road. I simply placed one into the other and VOILA: Surrealism. This imagery makes me think of The Brave Little Toaster and how awesome a live action version of that movie would be.

Usually the remote control hides from the TV.
This time I think it's the other way around.

Click to View
Shot with a Canon 30D - 60mm USM Macro
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I AM A FARMER NOW

in

Screw the world!
I'm a farmer now!
I plowed up my front yard and planted FOOD.
Henceforth, I shall spring LIFE from LAND!!
I shall bring FLORA to what once was VOID!
I shall BURGEON and HARVEST my crop!!
And I shall reap. In the name of Dimitra, GODDESS OF CORN... I SHALL REAP.
I will REAP my organic CHILDREN just as The Great Reaper reaps the SLAIN!
TAKE HEED my fellow enemies,
I AM NOW A FARMER!!!
And I SHALL FEAST!!!
(raising pitchfork in the air while lightning strikes it)
I SHHAALLLLL FFFEEAASSSSTTTTT!!!!!!
Okra Power! Tomatoe Power! Green Beans Power! Carrots Power!
Onions Power! Spinach Power! Squash Power! Peas Power!
White Sweet Corn Power! Strawberry Power! Potato Power!
FARM FEAST POWER, TWO THOUSAND EIGHT!
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MY BEST FRIEND RAY PREWITT IS A MURDERER

in

This is a picture of one of my best friends.
His name is RAY.

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And here is one of the headlines on CNN today:

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I had no idea Ray was such a
POWERFUL and AGGRESSIVE swimmer.

That poor woman should have protected herself and taken notes from
THE LADY IN THE OTHER RIDICULOUS HEADLINE...

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One letter away and that "Rat" becomes "Ray" which indicates
that Ray went on some water based killing spree, killing women
in the ocean and then shooting up the sewer line to kill again.

I actually didn't notice that last headline until I posted the first one.
I was just about to log out when I looked down and saw it.
Really CNN? Killer toilet rats? Front page national news? REALLY!?!??!
WITH VIDEO, TOO.

My Reflection

in

this morning i woke up, opened the door, and looked in the mirror
and the man i saw looking back at me was different than i remember
he was a lot older
he seemed sad
he was dressed in blue
he had a large satchel flung around his shoulder
and his arm was protruding past the reflection plane
and he was slapping a handful of letters in my face
and he was saying:
"hey stupid... hey... hey man... take your mail... hey...
your box is full... take this... it's your mail... take it damn it...
there's no room in your box."

i refused his offer

"no way," i said, "i'm not gonna take that mail!
it's all just grocery store news and low finance rates!
there's not a single personal letter in there!"

with a smirk he held up a postcard

"you're not fooling me," I said, "that postcard was laser printed to
APPEAR as if it were hand written! look at who it's from! A DENTIST.
i don't know anybody named DENTIST."

angry and tired, he set the mail down on my stoop and
walked over to the next house

i have such a weird reflection

i need to wash that mirror

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The WORST Invention EVER made.

in

Three different couples I know just had kids.
All within the past three days.
I was going to order them this as a gift
but I found out it's from a 1953 Popular Mechanics
and not a 2008 Sears catalog.

I guess I'll just give them each a big wooden crate or something.
Might work just them same.
apartmentwindowcage.jpg "Enclosed in a wire cage suspended from an apartment window, English children play in the sunlight and fresh air while their mothers are busy with housework. The cage, made of wire netting, is strongly braced and is guarded on the apartment side by a cloth net which prevents children from crawling back into the room where they may attempt to destroy the home. Loaned by an infant welfare center to families with no gardens, the portable balcony is apparently popular with mothers and fathers with little patience. The demand exceeds the supply."
1953 Popular Mechanics

High Thread Count

in

I don't understand high thread count sheets.
Recently, I bought a luxurious high thread count sheet at Target
to see what it was all about.

I thought I was in for the RIDE OF A LIFETIME.

But it wasn't anything close to that.

It was just a stupid sheet.

And it's kind of stiff.

I thought high thread count sheets were supposed to be the softest
customers around.

Well, they're not.
They're not special AT ALL.
They're just expensive
and stiff.

I'm gonna stick to my cotton jersey sheets, washed weekly
in a gallon of fabric softener.

And I'll never vote for high thread count sheets again.

YOU HEAR ME HIGH THREAD COUNT SHEETS???
I'M SICK OF YOUR HIGH FALUTIN' WAYS!!
YOU'RE ALL TALK! ALL TALK AND NO ACTION!
YOU AND I ARE FINISHED!

lksdnjkngwelk;fne/r;f/

TO HYPER TO TYPE to tired to talk

i have not been able to think clearly lately.

or perhaps i've NEVER been able to think clearly
and i've just gotten lucky getting ANYTHING
done at all.

i feel like i'm trapped under a thin sheet of gauze,
in a room full of cotton balls.
i can see things in front of me, but not clearly.
i grab at masses but nothing is grounded.
there's nothing to hold onto.
when i breathe,
bits of fuzz fill my mouth.

even in the face of good fortune,
an open door,
i seem to keep banging on the wall
as if more doors may open.

what the fuck is wrong with me?

wait...

i know...

i'm in love
with a god damn ghost.


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after the fall

in

she cut her tooth on the counter
when she slipped on a wet spot
and sent everything
she held dear
into flight.

and for a brief moment,
she could actually see
the days spin down
like whirly birds.

right there in front of her.

a thousand twisted memories

covering her tracks.

my goodness they passed so quickly.
violently, even.

like icy wind.

and it was during this time
that she watched
her friends
come and go.

even her best friends.

disappeared in front of her.

and
as
the
days
spun
d
o
w
n

faster and faster and faster

she began to change
into

someone unrecognizable
to herself.