Friday, May 27, 2016
This is the future and it's a nightmare
Immediately following my post about hating work, I received a recruitment email :) from this start-up company (and seriously the email opened with a smiley face). :) "Hi! I'm a really happy person! Because this start-up is SO AWESOME! Look how we work! Well, it doesn't feel like work because we're bouncing around like infants in plastic balls with pokey things inside! Oops! Don't roll me down the hill, silly work friend! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! This is sooooooo fun! You have AWESOME experience, Lou Jones! Let's talk!"
Thursday, May 26, 2016
Monday, May 23, 2016
Fuck Your Noguchi Table
Some sites are little jewels that sit behind your brain for years, waiting to be remembered. They come to you like a memory from when you were 5. A swoosh of movement, a faint laugh, who showed you first. Like something you're looking at through half-closed venetian blinds.
This is one of the best.
This is one of the best.
Thursday, May 19, 2016
Notes on a meeting #7
It's been a while since I've had to sit through a meeting for two hours. Plenty of time to take some "notes."
During this particular meeting, I had two things on my mind. "EFF YOU". This is written in stylized copy because a note like this can't be readable by the nosy VP sitting behind you. And, from Mr. Bill Burroughs, "She had an auxiliary asshole in the middle of her forehead."
During this particular meeting, I had two things on my mind. "EFF YOU". This is written in stylized copy because a note like this can't be readable by the nosy VP sitting behind you. And, from Mr. Bill Burroughs, "She had an auxiliary asshole in the middle of her forehead."
Monday, May 02, 2016
Beyond Hate + unicorn teaser, Ween
Finally, I did it. I cut a social bind that was somehow still holding on.
There's only one person in this world who I can clearly state I hate. In fact, I had a hate note posted on this here Jones, but then took it down because it was so UGLY. Ya know?
I ran into this woman for the 2nd time, in the same place tonight, which is near my work and her home, and I heard her say my name under her breath as I "unknowingly" passed by her.
And to that I have to say: we should all be ridding ourselves of the "uncomfortable meeting" by stating as early on as possible that you want that person to ignore you, please. In my case, it went on too long–12 years too long, but really 3 (a final crime).
And to her I said in an overtly pussy way: by email, that if she has any good manners in possession at all, then she should never ever talk to me ever again about anything, no matter what.
I foresee a future in which I don't have to ignore her upon viewing, but can look her in the eye, say nothing, and it won't be unexpected.
Amen.
Don't let assholes bug you out of your world as long as I did.
Meanwhile, I lick my brain in silence:
That's right. Ween is back.
There's only one person in this world who I can clearly state I hate. In fact, I had a hate note posted on this here Jones, but then took it down because it was so UGLY. Ya know?
I ran into this woman for the 2nd time, in the same place tonight, which is near my work and her home, and I heard her say my name under her breath as I "unknowingly" passed by her.
And to that I have to say: we should all be ridding ourselves of the "uncomfortable meeting" by stating as early on as possible that you want that person to ignore you, please. In my case, it went on too long–12 years too long, but really 3 (a final crime).
And to her I said in an overtly pussy way: by email, that if she has any good manners in possession at all, then she should never ever talk to me ever again about anything, no matter what.
I foresee a future in which I don't have to ignore her upon viewing, but can look her in the eye, say nothing, and it won't be unexpected.
Amen.
Don't let assholes bug you out of your world as long as I did.
Meanwhile, I lick my brain in silence:
That's right. Ween is back.
Friday, January 22, 2016
Note to a Baby: The grandfather you'll never know
Rx,
You're almost five, and no baby. Lately, it's crossed my mind several times that there are stories I want you to know.
One is the day my biodad died. We were friends. We could talk about anything and we made each other mad sometimes. We had a couple great adventures in New Orleans together. Biodad had a zest for life while he was slowly killing himself. Such a paradox. It's what happens when shitty stuff happens to little kids a bit too much. This little kid was curious and bright, open minded and happy. Then his dad, my grandfather drank way too much all the time and might have hurt him, or my grandmother, not sure. Either way, the grandfather left the family and became homeless and died on the streets. I think in Oklahoma, maybe Texas.
My biodad then suffered at the hand of my grandmother. I think she may have hit him, I know she told him she wished he'd never been born.
They found out my grandfather died when they didn't hear from him for a long time. They called someone, who? The morgue, the police, I don't know. It was in some other state than Louisiana, where they were living. Had always lived.
Biodad played the drums in a rock band and then the tympani in the Army symphony in Alaska.
I heard Biodad died in the evening. Your dad and I were at our friends' house with other friends too and we were watching the Simpsons and eating pizza. It was such a fun time, everyone was happy. It was simple.
Then your dad's phone rang and it was my mom, your grandmama calling to tell me he was dead. She hadn't been able to reach me on my phone. Your dad gave me a weird look, then handed me the phone. I don't remember what he said. I said Hello, and she was crying pretty hard. She said she was so sorry to tell me that Arthur had died. He was your grandfather.
I started crying and couldn't stop. Your dad led me to the converted garage, now a studio, and I sat on a yellow jacquard sofa. After a moment, my two girlfriends came in and asked what happened, and they sat on either side of me and held me and said nothing while I cried. My guy friends sort of hung out in the background unsure of what to do.
Your dad and I went home. I felt so weird. I felt very numb in the car the whole way home. I felt all the sadness I ever felt about him, the loss he suffered in his life, everything I knew about his pain felt worse than ever and dug into my being. All the lost potential, the life that could've been the life the got away.
His best friend's husband found him. They hadn't heard from him for a couple days; very unusual. They were paying for his apartment. My biodad, your grandfather had been friends with this woman since high school, and now she was married to the mayor of the small town in Louisiana and they were rich. That mayor turned out to be first cousins with Jerry Lee Lewis and Jimmy Swaggart. How weird is that.
He was in bed, the air conditioner was cranked. He had a fan pointed towards his face, and there were dozens of beer cans in the kitchen. He'd been sober for like 3 years.
What happened.
I don't know. I wonder if he killed himself. He was very lonely and bored. He had emphysema and used an oxygen tank while he chain smoked. Did he have respiratory failure because of the large amount of alcohol? I think maybe it was just his one last drunk.
I hadn't talked to him for five months previous. That five months was preceded by a visit your dad I made to his apartment in that small town. It was overwhelming for me and I kind of avoided him afterward. I didn't answer his calls. For five months. And then he died.
You're almost five, and no baby. Lately, it's crossed my mind several times that there are stories I want you to know.
One is the day my biodad died. We were friends. We could talk about anything and we made each other mad sometimes. We had a couple great adventures in New Orleans together. Biodad had a zest for life while he was slowly killing himself. Such a paradox. It's what happens when shitty stuff happens to little kids a bit too much. This little kid was curious and bright, open minded and happy. Then his dad, my grandfather drank way too much all the time and might have hurt him, or my grandmother, not sure. Either way, the grandfather left the family and became homeless and died on the streets. I think in Oklahoma, maybe Texas.
My biodad then suffered at the hand of my grandmother. I think she may have hit him, I know she told him she wished he'd never been born.
They found out my grandfather died when they didn't hear from him for a long time. They called someone, who? The morgue, the police, I don't know. It was in some other state than Louisiana, where they were living. Had always lived.
Biodad played the drums in a rock band and then the tympani in the Army symphony in Alaska.
I heard Biodad died in the evening. Your dad and I were at our friends' house with other friends too and we were watching the Simpsons and eating pizza. It was such a fun time, everyone was happy. It was simple.
Then your dad's phone rang and it was my mom, your grandmama calling to tell me he was dead. She hadn't been able to reach me on my phone. Your dad gave me a weird look, then handed me the phone. I don't remember what he said. I said Hello, and she was crying pretty hard. She said she was so sorry to tell me that Arthur had died. He was your grandfather.
I started crying and couldn't stop. Your dad led me to the converted garage, now a studio, and I sat on a yellow jacquard sofa. After a moment, my two girlfriends came in and asked what happened, and they sat on either side of me and held me and said nothing while I cried. My guy friends sort of hung out in the background unsure of what to do.
Your dad and I went home. I felt so weird. I felt very numb in the car the whole way home. I felt all the sadness I ever felt about him, the loss he suffered in his life, everything I knew about his pain felt worse than ever and dug into my being. All the lost potential, the life that could've been the life the got away.
His best friend's husband found him. They hadn't heard from him for a couple days; very unusual. They were paying for his apartment. My biodad, your grandfather had been friends with this woman since high school, and now she was married to the mayor of the small town in Louisiana and they were rich. That mayor turned out to be first cousins with Jerry Lee Lewis and Jimmy Swaggart. How weird is that.
He was in bed, the air conditioner was cranked. He had a fan pointed towards his face, and there were dozens of beer cans in the kitchen. He'd been sober for like 3 years.
What happened.
I don't know. I wonder if he killed himself. He was very lonely and bored. He had emphysema and used an oxygen tank while he chain smoked. Did he have respiratory failure because of the large amount of alcohol? I think maybe it was just his one last drunk.
I hadn't talked to him for five months previous. That five months was preceded by a visit your dad I made to his apartment in that small town. It was overwhelming for me and I kind of avoided him afterward. I didn't answer his calls. For five months. And then he died.
Monday, January 18, 2016
"Look up here, I'm in Heaven"
Ok, ok, ok.
Days pass without another tear shed for Bowie—and thank god because it's been very sad and hard at The Jones since last Monday.
Then today, this.
Friday, January 15, 2016
Breakfast Club + Bowie
At some point in the movie these lyrics from "Changes" show up. After viewing, my friends and I started tagging our backpacks, army jackets and random public bathroom walls with his words. We were 15. We felt so vindicated.
(Bye Bye Beautiful Bowie.)
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