2014年08月29日 IFF: Rick Ingram continues

Over the radio a pleasant and soft speaking man, probably with a mustache, said: 

"That was Al Jarreau's, I Will Be Here For You, following up from After All, and Teach Me Tonight, concluding this part of our smooth-grooved block-party weekend.  

We'll follow him up with some Harold Melvin and the Bluenotes, with Teddy Pendergrass on vocals. I'm Mark Redd and you're listening KXZP, this is Wake Up Everybody"

Mose reached over to turn down the speakers. I glanced over at him making a face, don't even try it. My face must have been a little more than I wanted to be, since his eyes tightened at me. I shrugged at looked back at the house across the street. It was still warm outside. That's no problem either way. I was told that it might rain tonight, even a light sprinkle. 

Good. Extra cover is always welcomed. 

But this was a doubled-edged sword, because while we'd be covered so would everyone else.

I tried not to think much. Beyond what I should have been doing, I found my mind wandering. A solution to this was on the floor, behind front-passenger's seat. There were still a few beers left, and two energy-drinks -- those were Mose's. The music wasn't loud enough to muffle the sound of the stay-tab from my second or third can of beer.

"Rick, do you think that's a good idea?"

"Where you come off telling me how to do this kind of stuff?" After putting down a third of the beer in one hard sip.

"Why don't you have one yourself? To take the edge off." I continued wiping off excess beer that I had missed, stopping it from running down to my chin.

Mose shrugged and reached behind him for one of the beers. He opened it and took a sip that wouldn't even quench a small bird's thirst. He rested the beer in his lap and gazed back the house, as if he was thinking of something else other than the assignment. His open right hand resting on the left which held his beer looked tense. Watching him was less dramatic and more depressing. He didn't even realize I was staring at him. He's probably moon-bound at this rate. His face went from one of concentration to a somber reflection of yesterday.

It's probably the music. I mused.

"Do you think he's in there?" Mose asked as if he was talking to himself.

"I don't know." Then I took another sip. For Christ's-sake we're going to need more beer. I couldn't focus too much on the assignment either. The music was killing me in its own way, and I didn't like to do back-to-back high risk assignments on short notice.

"Let's get out of here," I said turning on the car lights first then the engine. "We've got better things to do." I signaled, looked in the mirror, and behind my shoulder wondering in case I missed something, and pulled onto the road. Where are we going to go from here? I had a few places in mind, but everything seemed equally boring.

"Rick what's going on?" Mose apparently woke up from his semi-trance.

"We're going to get something to eat and talk. And enough of this music." I quickly switched over to a pre-set pop station to lighten the mood, where surprisingly Al Jarreau was playing. "Goddamn 3 time Grammy winner, in three separate categories."

"There's just no escape!" Mose blurted as he theatrically raised his arms beer in hand.

"There's always an escape." I said, as I signaled towards the freeway on ramp. Out of the corner of my right eye I saw Mose's playful face from a few seconds ago turn grim. He looked away from he out the window.

There's always an escape.

Traffic was light and what normally would take thirty minutes on the highway, took us twenty minutes. Mose had finished his beer by then, and I was working on an extra. I parked the rig along the curb, across the street from the only known and working pay-phone in the city.

My car blended in the way it should: a white Subaru 2005 Impreza. The only difference was that this car wasn't in my name or on the insurance. It made things a lot easier for what I did for a living. No, I didn't steal the car, but an ex-girlfriend here and there sure did help with borrowed transportation. Clean transportation.

I learned right away when I was still carrying a badge that using other people's car could change things up dramatically, so would a wardrobe, and not shaving for a few days. But the thing that I missed was camaraderie. It helped to learn and use as much as I could out here because what I did was significantly more dangerous, because out here I had to be extra careful. No cavalry is going to come and save me. Hell, if I make a mistake, they might be running me down. The clients I get don't ask me to do anything illegal, save for the Nest, but producing the results they want may require some questionable tactics. Out here with no badge, no blues, though I still kept the suit, I'm alone. Save for Mose, I'm alone. No that's not true, I've got others like Pe—

"What are we doing here?" I could see Mose was getting irritable wondering why we were stopped but doing nothing

"I'm going to make a phone call, I've got someone to talk to. AND DON'T DRINK ALL THE BEER."
          "I didn't know we had any left." He said smiling at me.

2014年08月28日 Jealous enough to liquor

Probably one of the more terrifying things a man can experience is jealously. 

This jealously is never healthy for people who are fanatics like myself. My tendencies evolve jealously into problematic and destructive things. For some jealousy is healthy for a relationship, but for me it isn't.

Case number 03189:

I walk into a bar with a friend - he's gay, so what? - and I run into a woman that I have been attracted to over the last year or longer. She's a warm person, if that warmth happened to be in a sauna located in the arctic circle. A complicated woman with many layers. We met online, talked on the phone and went on a few dates, but I don't think she likes younger men (I'm 28 and she's 37). Nothing happened, but we've kept in contact sporadically.

Anyhow, she spots me and waves me over to hug her, which is something I've never done before with her.

"Nice to see you again, but I'm here to get drunk. You look a little busy, so nice seeing you!" 

I said. And that was that. 

There were Wild Turkey shots waiting for me in the lounge area, and not the bar/restaurant area where she was sitting in a red-dress. No I wasn't going to lollygag around waiting to get booze and losing my buzz in the process, even briefly. 

No. Ladies and Gentlemen, and Invited Transgender Species* I was there to drink and hang out. So for me, mission accomplished. Okay, and maybe get laid at some point too, but that's a different story.

So a week passes by and I catch the red-dress woman online, where she brought up my friend. She said that when she hugged me, my guy friend looked jealous as hell.

And her message was expounded with,

"I could feel it, he was not very happy about my existence there." 

I agreed, but at that time when she saw him in the bar I was preoccupied with getting drunk (though I didn't). I was even startled to see her there, since I had strong feelings for her, yet I knew of an answer that could quickly change these feelings.

The Wild Turkey drenched jealously away, at least for me though I didn't seem to have any. If anything seeing her smile at me was like a reminder of wearing a Scarlet Letter, except mine would have been an "S" for spurned. 

You can smell Wild Turkey once the smokey flavors get within a few inches of your nose. Soon after pressing the shot glass to your lips, you begin to start closing your eyes. The glass bottom tipped up towards the ceiling, and then dropping the solution down into your mouth. Like most medicine it tastes like shit, at first; but when the taste-buds adjust, the feeling is different. A few times in my life I had adjusted my feelings to the taste, and while that was a long time ago I at least wrote significantly more.

Not a quitter

Like the jealously of my gay-friend, the feeling did adjust, once he finished his shot sipping it slowly.

I paid, feeling cocky I left 30 percent tip. We left through the lounge entrance and walked around downtown towards the water. Once there we found more places to drink. He invited me to a gay bar. I don't care: they usually have cheaper drinks.

There I drowned out my feelings, be them jealous or not.

I was jealous enough to liquor out of my life, until I woke up the next day.

*To quote Lieutenant Commander Data

4 PM IN THE MORNING

(IIF: Ingram Story)

Mose came into my office at about 4 pm. He sat down across from me. This time he remembered to remove my tie from the chair. Lately I haven't given a damn about much, but his consideration looking for and navigating his ass from crushing my belongings seemed like I should. I should give a damn. I didn't, even though I wanted to try.

It was hard for me to take his gesture at face value. He cared enough for me, or what he thought of me. What did he think of me? And yet, how could he know that I could care less at that moment. It didn't matter, and so while I rubbed my eyes in what felt like the early morning, I told him to help himself to some coffee.

He is the only man I've ever known that will consistently drink stale or cold coffee if offered to by a superior, unless he's on business. Fortunately for me I get the best of both worlds, not only am I his friend but his superior; moreover, when he drinks the stale stuff, I have an excuse to make new coffee. Either way it's a win-win, as a second cup for him means washing out the horrible taste of the first.

"What's on the agenda?" I asked him as I buttoned up my shirt.

"We'll Rick, here's your mail." He said placing it somewhere on the desk that wasn't cluttered.

"And?" His long drawn out pauses, while deliberate we both knew, were getting on my nerves. And we both knew that as well.

"Cosgrave."

Well shit. I rubbed the back my head and looked down at him. 

"What does he want?" That was about all I cared to muster with Cosgrave's name being the topic.

"He wants to meet you. He says he's got intel on Hirsch-Landers, and it's something else too."

My eyebrows raised and Mose caught the hint, continuing on:

"He knows you were able to get information from the records department, and he also knows I've ran a few of the names on the list."

"How the fuck does he know that?"

"I'm being followed, and someone bugged my room." I made a face at him. "No-no, I didn't remove any of them, but I found them alright. What else? The that fact I was followed here too! I'm sure he knows that I know I'm being followed, but Christ. Why would this happen? Then he calls a meeting?" Mose seemed to be as confused as he was ashamed.

"Forget the coffee." I said, gesturing him to stand. "Hand me my tie." We're going out. 

Mose picked up on this and picked up two pieces of mail from the desk.

"I think you should look at these first. The address looks odd."

One said, "PANNETTA" from sender. Hand written on the opposite side was "URGENT" twice underlined. Half way to the door, I stopped, walking back behind my desk. I opened a drawer and found my war trophy Walther P-38 that I had bought from a neighbor.

"You ready?"

Mose nodded a nervous "Yes" to me.

"Don't worry Mose. I don't expect anything to happen." At least to you. I couldn't bring myself to tell him that. Not this earl-- Well, not before dinner time.

Anal Prolapse Blender

Which one looks like a churro,
sticking out an old man's nose?
A or B?

After awhile when one eats the same thing day in and day out, one almost feels like they could eat a blended rectal prolapse. Shaken not stirred. 

I happen to like routine, and also I have found that exploring comfort food is one way to curb the above problem. It is depressing when food loses its luster, and therefore indirectly food loses its "life." That's when the quality of daily life loses a part of itself. When food loses it's life, it often tastes like poppy-seeds in hard shit, or at least I've been told. The things people do to pay for grad school.

People should enjoy food, or rather the company of food and what food offers, such as guests who will talk about things that are repugnant. Eating shouldn't feel similar to a chore - unless you're sick. It should feel like breathing: you like doing it (most of the time). The downside is that whether it's company or just the monotony of the same thing everyday, one starts to question whether he or she could eat food that resembles human entrails.

Mmm bacon!
Well, not bacon yet.

I'm not in any kind of hurry to eat food that tastes like a mouth full of pig cunt - no matter how much I like Kermit the Frog, I ain't doing his nasty piggy bitch girlfriend. Gorilla juice fruit-cake, no thanks. The breaking point away from the monotony, banality, and one-dimensional nature of my cooking (or lack thereof) has inspired me.

I have resolved "pig cunt" by trying three new dishes every 3 days. It seems to be working. Actually it's breaking my bank, because I don't have enough cabinets for all these dishes.

Sick bastard: "Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence"

Reminiscing about life is something I like doing. The most unfortunate thing about reminiscing is when you physically have an opportunity to touch and feel the things you're reminiscing about: letters, songs, stuff, and so on.

For me I felt disgusted. Flanked, outnumbered, and overtaken. I read things which on the surface would feel old to Cro-Magnon man if he were still roaming free. It was like a time-machine. I was taken back so quickly, that for a moment the feelings were foreign until I realized they were my own. 

At least they were at some point in my life. 

Like a war vet who embodied "War is hell." I'd rather not talk about the war anymore. 

But it ate at me. It did.

On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomon'.

I can't go to a place that doesn't exist.
Or do those places go to people that don't exist?
I'm not a better or worse person.
Maybe I am?
Maybe I am.

I suppose I should be happy about it, considering I learned something from the situations over the last 10 years. I did not expect to be where I was, when I was there.

I learned how to be good, bad, a dream protector - and killer, - and I learned.
It was expensive. Sometimes too expensive.
Now years later, I wonder if it all should burn away.
If the price tag of remembering something requires such a high upkeep,
shouldn't it be destroyed, lest it destroy the keepers?

I don't know, but I let everyone down.
A let down, but not the first.

And you let me down.

Was it yours?

I wonder if had we been at the top of our game--
No. Not at all. Otherwise, this would have been much messier, interesting, or uneventful.

Back in the cockpit, I wonder.
I wonder. And wonder.
I go up.
I come back.
I talk with ground crew.
We make some modifications.
And we go right back out into the sky.
Nothings changed, or rather, not much has changed.
Little damage here, little damage there.
The vehicles change, but only when
the pilots are replaced
do we really notice a difference.

How in the world can we ever smile again?

Ground crew can't fix the pilot.
I stopped carrying a parachute since those days.
I'm sorry Mister Lawrence, I don't believe in Christmas.

I don't believe in miracles I don't believe in forgiving I don't believe in I can go on I won't remember why

Somehow, I still have a smile on my face.
Up Up and Away!

Would you like to ride in my beautiful balloon
Would you like to ride in my beautiful balloon
We could float among the stars together, you and I
For we can fly we can fly
Up, up and away
My beautiful, my beautiful balloon
The world's a nicer place in my beautiful balloon
It wears a nicer face in my beautiful balloon
We can sing a song and sail along the silver sky
For we can fly we can fly
Up, up and away
My beautiful, my beautiful balloon
Suspended under a twilight canopy
We'll search the clouds for a star to guide us
If by some chance you find yourself loving me
We'll find a cloud to hide us
We'll keep the moon beside us
Love is waiting there in my beautiful balloon
Way up in the air in my beautiful balloon
If you'll hold my hand we'll chase your dream across the sky
For we can fly we can fly
Up, up and away
My beautiful, my beautiful balloon
Balloon...
Up, up, and away.....

Whiskey Oh?: A short story by the writer

When someone said, "Bomb" Gary almost didn't notice. He had been minding his own business, as he usually does with headphones crammed into his ears, while peering down at his phone. The shanties and songs from Gilbert and Sullivan were more of an interest to him. He'd been reading up on them because he wanted something to sing while he was alone. Looking up from his seat he noticed people looking at him, others, and towards the driver. For a moment he realized something was wrong. His heart rate went up and he wanted to panic with the rest of the lot.

But he didn't, at least not outwardly. He turned off his music, unplugged his headphones, and shoved them in his pocket along with his phone. He tipped his head into the aisle to see what was going on. His fingers were pulsing with the adrenaline. No one seemed to notice his excitement, since they where already hopped up on their own.

He stopped thinking about those shanties he was reading. No amount of:
"Whiskey is the life of man, 
Always was since the world began!"
Would calm his nerves. Although a little voice in his head suggested that while the words might not calm him, actual whiskey might. He smiled nervously, even though no one else seemed to be smiling. And thankfully to his surprised, no one really noticed.

A distinct, but fuzzy sounding voice was heard overhead. It was the driver speaking into the intercom, but it was unintelligible gibberish. A woman behind Gary wouldn't stop babbling about what needed to be done. Soon the bus rolled to a stop, and people shuffled off the bus.

Gary shrugged, smiled, and walked over to another bus stop. The police would later report a pressure-cooker bomb was found. It exploded when a bomb technician tried to defuse it. He lived, surprisingly.

As Gary stood there waiting for another bus he could hear the lyrics in his head.
"Some like whiskey, some like beer,
I wish I had a barrel here."

He pulled out his headphones and phone, turn his music back on, and tried to forget the day's events
He knew others might not forget, but he would do is best to block it out of his mind at the least. That night he drank. But this night he celebrated life through death. And not the other way around, though he was fond of it. But not that night. Not at all.

Religion or rather the practice of rituals, think boozing and floozies

I once was asked, 

"There is a room with four equal corners, one corner with Superman, another with Wonder Woman, the third with a Pollack, and the forth with a black, all staring at the center of the room where there is a pot of gold.

Who reaches the gold first? 

Well, not Wonder Woman or Superman, they're not real. 

It's the Pollack, because black knows better."

Like religion, one should always
teach their children about
drinking.

Religion organized or unorganized. Irregular or regular. Or unleaded. Is usually the result of wanting to find some meaning in existing. For some people it means we need to be more than just biological horn-dogs with penis-envy, which is what most religions try to mention. Except for the FSM religion. 

We're not animals, because animals are just that. We have morals, ideas, and a lot of internet porn. The latter of which animals do not have in their current possession. I believe we can go beyond the biology and not always look to be the alpha or beta, or even use terms like that. When our characters dictate who we are first, then only then do we no longer need to worry about much else. Hopefully our biology doesn't dictate who or what our character is, unless you are a war-machine: living tissue over endo-metal skeleton.

Frankly speaking, as I brought up in an earlier post.

http://repugnant-thoughts.blogspot.com/2013/09/in-other-news.html

Which basically talks about how people who believe in something they can't see or touch are at slightly higher risk of major depression disorder (ICD-9 296.3).

However those kraut-bastards, seem to think something else.

Does prayer help us resist temptation?
Talking to God boosts self-control and emotional stability, claims study

You can read it all here:
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-2515637/Does-prayer-help-resist-temptation-Talking-God-boosts-self-control-emotional-stability-claims-study.html

Or here, if you are lazy:

Blah blah blah does mastur--- Prayer help us, treat depression or temptation?

Prayer the pee-pee monster away.

By Robin Yapp
PUBLISHED: 15:56 GMT, 29 November 2013 | UPDATED: 15:58 GMT, 29 November 2013

Praying helps people stay in control of their emotions and behaviour, according to a new study. 

People turn to prayer 'as a coping response to the high demands in life' and are rewarded with increased strength and ability to resist temptation, researchers said. 

Previous findings have shown that when people try hard to control their emotions and thoughts, the risk of aggressive outbursts and binge drinking or eating rises. 

BELIEVING IN GOD COULD HELP TREAT DEPRESSION TOO...

Belief in God may improve treatment for those suffering with depression, a study published earlier year found.  

Faith in a higher being was found to significantly improve treatment for people suffering with a psychiatric illness, according to research carried out by McLean Hospital in Belmont, Massachusetts. 

Researchers followed 159 patients over the course of a year at the Behavioral Health Partial Hospital program to investigate the relationship between a patient's level of belief in God, expectations for treatment and actual treatment outcomes. 

Each participant was asked to gauge their belief in God as well as their expectations for treatment outcome on a five-point scale. 

Researchers found that patients with 'no' or only 'slight' belief in God were twice as likely not to respond to treatment than patients with higher levels of belief. 

And more than 30 per cent of patients claiming no specific religious affiliation still saw the same benefits in treatment if their belief in God was rated as moderately or very high. 

But the latest study, by German psychologists at Saarland University and the University of Mannheim, found that praying helps people maintain self-control.  

'A brief period of personal prayer buffered the self-control depletion effect', wrote the team, whose findings are published in the Journal of Experimental Social Psychology online. 

'These results are consistent with and contribute to a growing body of work attesting to the beneficial effects of praying on self-control.'  

Praying has already been linked in the past to reduced levels of infidelity and alcohol consumption [emphasis mine].

The German authors recruited 79 people, of whom 41 were Christian, 14 atheists, 10 agnostic and 14 belonged to other religions. 

Participants were each left alone for five minutes and asked to either pray or think freely about one thing as intensely as possible. 

Next they all watched a funny film clips with half told to react normally and half required to try to suppress their emotions and control their facial reactions.

Finally, they took part in Stroop tests, where words describing colours appear in different coloured inks, such as the word blue written in red ink. 

Participants must respond to the ink colour, not the written word, which requires self-control as our instinct is to read the word in front of us. 

Those who thought freely in the first part of the test and then tried to suppress their emotions during the film clips were found to struggle with the Stroop task. 

But this was not the case for participants who prayed at the start of the study - showing they still had high levels of self-control at the end.

The authors also found those who first prayed had tried just as hard to suppress emotions during the film clips 'but did not become depleted'.

*****

The real question anyone should ask his or herself, is whether or not alcohol consumption is a problem.

As far as I'm concerned, alcohol is prayer.

Sweet, tasty, prayer.

You may want to talk to your doctor before starting a new religious or drinking regimen. If you experience:

• heart problems such as chest pain (angina), heart failure, irregular heartbeats, or have had a heart attack
• high or low blood pressure or have high blood pressure that is not controlled
• stroke
• liver or kidney problems or require dialysis
• retinitis pigmentosa, a rare genetic (runs in families) eye disease
• severe vision loss, including a condition called NAION
• stomach ulcers or a bleeding problem
• a deformed penis shape or Peyronie's disease
• an erection that lasted more than---

How to pray on the weekend

That's for a different regimen.

In any case, it seems the Germans have found a way to academically one up , albeit not a global effort like the other study, their peers and colleagues. Basically the Germans have found a way to use hope as the deferment of disappointment.

Right now would be a good time to listen to Epica's A New Age Dawns - Pt. V (Kingdom of Heaven)