Archive for October, 2011

Conflicts

Indignados: The Malcontent. What a beautiful name, and how poetic how the movement is blossoming throughout Europe, growing is size parallel to the “Occupy” groups everywhere. I got to experience it first hand today, joining a peaceful protest in a local park between working hours.

Pamphlets, speakers and weed: Everything a modern-day hippie meeting needed. Still though, I was quite disappointed, especially by the low number of people who showed up but also the lack of aggression. Turn it any way you like, a protest isn’t a real protest without anger, and passion- It’s a picnic.

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Manlyman™

I consider her among my best, deepest friends even though we rarely talk and see each other even less. But when I once did, the nature of our friendship lead the conversation to the darker parts of our thoughts, almost immediately.

She told me that yes, her relationship was satisfying, but she was having increasing trouble with him being such a “man’s man.” At the time, I didn’t really know what she meant by that and momentarily found myself wondering what must be so difficult about it to tolerate.

Having spent several nights in a bed too small for me and my colleague in some ratty hotel in Paris, I now wonder how she coped for so long. Holy shitcakes, we men are intolerable creatures. Not even “aww that’s endearing in a disgusting way” but rather, “Okay that’s it I’m leaving.”

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Flipside

I didn’t update last week.

Truth of the matter is, I’ve been feeling kind of shitty lately for no good reason. And much how phantom pain kicks in with a vengeance when you’re sick, “kind of shitty” with De Pue means issues, anger, and drama. I get paranoid, buried thoughts on exes rise up, I am irritated, in short: If I were married last week, I would now be divorced.

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The Bend

I think there might come a day where I am rich and famous and make shitloads of money doing nothing, and then the stagehand company will call: “We need a couple more guys for some shitty job stupidly hauling dead weight under the command of fat truckers” and I’ll be like, “Count me in.”

I don’t know why I still do this, but once in a little while I am kindly reminded. While it might be the shittiest job in the world to build a stage and bleachers in a makeshift venue and cramming as much lights, drapes and intricately finished itty-bitty little details as possible in the available space; If it comes with two weeks of followspot jobs, I’m in.

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