Endarkened Transcendentalist

After almost a decade of trying to deny chaos its proper place, I’ve come to realize that it really is a healthy part of this universe and is an equal with order.


I am chaos. I am the substance from which your artists and scientists build
rhythms. I am the spirit with which your children and clowns laugh in happy
anarchy. I am chaos. I am alive, and I tell you that you are free.

Published in: on January 30, 2011 at 3:14 pm  Comments (7)  
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Girls Girls Girls

The last time I was in a titty bar I still lived in Colorado (but it was in Montana) so to say it’s been a few years would be safe. Last night was my brother-in-laws bachelor party, in Vegas so yeah, there were titties…Big titties, little titties, pink titties, brown titties, black titties. Titties in my face, titties all over the place. (My apologies to Dr. Seuss) After paying our twenty dollar cover and settling on a pair of tables the girls were all over us like proverbial flies. I purchased my brother-in-law the mandatory lap dance before the limo we sent back for the wives, and wife-to-be delivered its’ drunken female payload.

I know I’m getting older but didn’t expect it to hinder my titty experience. Alas, with only a few exceptions, I was feeling too sorry for the girls to really enjoy the gyrations they were performing. I caught myself wondering whether these girls fathers’ knew what they were doing several times. I cringed as I watched them crawling around the stage for the money given to them, like roses performers once received in recognition of their work, but quite appropriately filthy, green and wilted.

Before anyone starts eyeballing my Man Card, I’ll move on to the few exceptions. The few girls who sincerely looked to be having a good time. The one with the perfect smile and the flexibility of a professional gymnast….damn……DAMN! Shit, now I forgot where I was going……..

A few differences between Montana and here were shockingly revealed to me when a dancer (all 90 pounds) jumped on my lap, grabbed my hand and placed it squarely on her perfect little ass. I guess there were similar shocking incidents upstairs with the wives too.) Both NV and MT allow alcohol to be served, however in Montana they take it all off, not just their tops like here, but there is absolutely no touching of the girls by the customer.

The funniest part of the night actually happened before The titty bar, we were all at Coyote Ugly, the rest of the guys were shy and hid near the bar while I inched my way forward eventually ending up near enough to the bar to have the water poured on the girls splash onto me also. However, the cruel hand of god chose this pinnacle of achievement as the best time to smite me with a full bladder. (The guys had been passing beers up to me.) It turned out that the bar didn’t waste space on restrooms and I had to go into the casino and down a floor to relive myself. On my way back this beautiful young lady in a skin tight short black dress, zoomed in on me more accurately and almost as fast as a Patriot Missile.(I credit my hat, which got mic time at Coyote Ugly and the Titty bar that night also.) She was grinding on me like a ……something that grinds a lot. When she finally figured out I wasn’t going to be doing whatever she wanted, she kissed my cheek and put a bunch of Mardi Gras beads around my neck. The guys were a little surprised when I returned from the restroom with the beads and lipstick on my cheek.

All fun aside, the most important part of the night is that I found out that my soon to be sister-in-law is a great lady and a lot of fun. Welcome to the family Major Fun. (Yes, she is Military)

Published in: on October 9, 2010 at 6:39 pm  Comments (3)  
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Happy Birthday Breakfast Club

A quarter of a century ago today the Breakfast Club was released. This movie did more for my generation than another other movie to teach youth that resistance to tyranny is possible. Some people might argue that that distinction should go to Red Dawn, but they would be missing the bigger picture. Tyranny is easy to see when it is committed by foreign soldiers, but much harder to spot when it’s being perpetrated by individuals who we are taught are unquestionable role models.

From almost the day we are born we are taught to respect authority just because they are authority. Never ask why. If you receive the answer “because I told you” to a question of why you are suppose to accept it. You are expected to pretend like you don’t know that the answer is just short for “because if you don’t I will force you”.

In the movie the five students weren’t able to end the tyranny they were under, but they all exercised what freedom they could. Their situation is very similar to what we have today with warrantless searches, war tribunals, exorbitant taxation, torture, drug laws, gun laws, zoning and everyday violations of our Rights. Like in the movie our system is so corrupt that outright rebellion isn’t an option. We, like those kids, must isolate ourselves from and disregard the rules to enjoy what freedoms we can.

In the movie we see the five students putting aside vast differences to fight against tyranny. The movie provides us with hope that someday we as a society could put aside our comparatively petty differences to realize our own freedom. Where a lot of movies fail with this idea is by making the characters conform to one ideal. In The Breakfast Club however every character remains what they started out as. They realize that their interactions based on those differences are really only what their peers/society demand of them. Like all good resistance movies it provides the viewers with a vision of overcoming subjugation and making their world a better, freer place.

Published in: on February 16, 2010 at 8:48 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Who Knew

Degrees of Gray in Philipsburg

You might come here Sunday on a whim.
Say your life broke down. The last good kiss
you had was years ago. You walk these streets
laid out by the insane, past hotels
that didn’t last, bars that did, the tortured try
of local drivers to accelerate their lives.
Only churches are kept up. The jail
turned 70 this year. The only prisoner
is always in, not knowing what he’s done.

The principal supporting business now
is rage. Hatred of the various grays
the mountain sends, hatred of the mill,
The Silver Bill repeal, the best liked girls
who leave each year for Butte. One good
restaurant and bars can’t wipe the boredom out.
The 1907 boom, eight going silver mines,
a dance floor built on springs—
all memory resolves itself in gaze,
in panoramic green you know the cattle eat
or two stacks high above the town,
two dead kilns, the huge mill in collapse
for fifty years that won’t fall finally down.

Isn’t this your life? That ancient kiss
still burning out your eyes? Isn’t this defeat
so accurate the church bell simply seems
a pure announcement: ring and no one comes?
Don’t empty houses ring? Are magnesium
and scorn sufficient to support a town,
not just Philipsburg, but towns
of towering blondes, good jazz and booze
the world will never let you have
until the town you came from dies inside?

Say no to yourself. The old man, twenty
when the jail was built, still laughs
although his lips collapse. Someday soon,
he says, I’ll go to sleep and not wake up.
You tell him no. You’re talking to yourself.
The car that brought you here still runs.
The money you buy lunch with,
no matter where it’s mined, is silver
and the girl who serves your food
is slender and her red hair lights the wall.

-Richard Hugo

Published in: on November 22, 2009 at 4:12 am  Comments (1)  
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