In the winter of 2006 I suffered a nervous breakdown which very nearly derailed my life.
This is the log I kept leading up to that event. Reading this is like reading something written by a person I hardly recognize. As follows:
Sunday, February 12, 2006
When you watch NBC they’ve got the figure skating and the long ski jump and that thing where the skiers go down the bumpy hill and then do a flip. On CNBC they have stuff like women’s hockey, where the mullets are apparently mandatory, and hopefully later there might be something somehow fish related. Ice fishing. Whaling on whales. Maybe like “Ice Boxing” or kids under 12 sledding on hills. Old fashioned sleds you can cut yourself on. Give those kids some character. I’m just conjecturing, here.
I had computer games when I was a kid that were based around the Winter Games and the Summer Games, I never figured out how they worked. I would just make the people fall all over the placeand try to get the lowest scores possible. I’m not really a “sports guy” I guess. I do really like the NBA when it gets into the playoffs if there’s a team with cool guys on it, I like the Super Bowl. I enjoy the pomp and circumstance more than anything, the actual games and rules of the game are secondary.
I’m an enthusiast.
I just slept for 12 straight hours.
Am I Ok?
Monday, February 14, 2005
I ate a McGriddle and felt like shit all day so that will color my take on the Olympic events today, I’m afraid. McDonald’s is the official restraunt of the Olympics, but I sure didn’t feel like doing anything even vaguely athletic after eating that shit. McDonald’s has crack in it.
Today was speed skating, and the star was the USA dude who apparently has made a career out of falling and sliding his crotch on the ice, the poor guy. That’s a tough break. And then he’d get all pissed off and throw his li’l hat down. That’ll show ’em!
They had the two person figure skating, that was some corny shit, right there. There’s something about the couples that just makes me say “Allright, this is stupid.” I can kinda give it up for the singles chick competition and still retain my manly feeling because I can always say “Oh, I’m just checking out their butts” but then they’re all like 10 years old and I have to talk my way outta that one, too.
Hey, you know who made me wanna watch figure skating? Tonya Harding. She was the Patron Saint of straight up trailer park bitches. That was my favorite media circus ever. I was just a kid when that went down, but I was rapt. Her douchebag husband and that Shawn Echardt dude who thought he was a spy or some shit but he lived with his mom, and Nancy Kerrigan wasn’t exactly sympathetic so you never felt bad that she got her knee whacked (I sure didn’t, anyway) and it was just hilarious every day. And then on the big day Tonya’s skate blew out cuz of her big pig kankles and she cried on the ice like a big fat pink piglet baby.
She was on something today and they gave her a makeover, she went from being a fat mean looking troll in sweat pants to being a fat mean looking troll with too much gotdamn makeup in a pant suit. That bitch is a HOT MESS. I love her. No Joke. I want her on TV more. who do I talk to about that? Why can’t she be the color commentator for the figure skating?
The Vice President shot an 87 year old man in the face with a shotgun. The news people keeping using words like “peppered” and “scratched,” but here’s the bottom line:
Dick Cheney is the Vice President.
He’s got a bad heart (literally) and a short temper.
He shot an old man.
In the face.
With a shotgun.
I was at Kroger yesterday and they had red fur lined handcuffs, like the kind you buy at fetish shops (I usually just use a belt I have with many gromets, as it seems more spontaneous that way) aimed at children and with a Valentine’s Day theme. Marked “For Ages 3 and Up.” Who are these saucy 3 year old handcuffing each other? Should we be encouraging them? I’m kinda on the fence about it.
Out of this world gone mad, Shaun White arises as a Champion. A Champion of Sweet Jumps.
At first, I didn’t like this kid. He looks like a doofus. Very Carrot Top. I once saw Carrot Top on the street in Atlanta, a city full of stray dogs, bums, Church’s Chickens, and stop signs in odd places. I almost said “Hello, Carrot Top.” Then I remembered, I can’t STAND Carrot Top.
I have red hair, too. It’s a problem for me when redheads in the public eye are coming off like shitnecks. I’m hard on redheaded dudes in the public eye because they reflect on me. When Conan goes too far into self deprecation, I feel his defeat. When David Caruso tried to go from TV to movies too early in his career, his fall hurt me, too. Even though I thought “Kiss of Death” was a cool movie, that’s beside the point.
When Shaun White almost failed to qualify to even compete in the half pipe final-a-go-go, it was his interview that won me over. He kept turning his head away from the camera and saying stuff like “Aw, man! I’m tripping out! That sucked! I almost blew it!” What kind of athelete talks like that? A fucking cool one.
So then my red head brother just walked up in the air and won that gold, and he shrugged and said something that ruled:
“I knew I could get it, I just wanted it.”
That shit is BRILLIANT. There’s any number of things you know you can get, but do you want them? That’s the question. Then he went and talked to Bob Costas about how he could use the medal to get chicks. “I’m hoping Sasha Cohen digs Gold Medals, it’ll be like Hey baby, what’s up? Yeah, I just got this.” I love it! This is the face of the American Athelete in 2006! Apollo Kahn Ono has stupid hair and fell his ass down during Roller Ice Derby. Michelle Kwan blew out her cooter and she’s an old washed up hag loser, anyway.
Long live the Flying Tomato!
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
It’s midnight and I’m home from work, I wanna watch some luge or something! Where the fuck is it? It’s like 4 in the afternoon or something over there, that is PRIME TIME for speed skating or something! What the hell is the deal? I haven’t seen enough curling yet! I didn’t figure it out. It’s warm outside, I can’t think about winter…
Chad Liggity won a medal? Who- I don’t want to see Jay Leno! What…
What the hell is Curling?
What happened yesterday? Did somebody fall down? Did Norwegians win medals? What? What?
I want a medal. I have a medal that was my uncle’s, I wear it on my leather jacket because I’m a Rocker. I wanna get a medal. I wanna get a medal for dealing with shit in the face of adversity, the world is getting me down. I’m feeling down, y’all. All y’all. What the hell is life all about? I’m depressed.
You know what’s better than Curling? Female Curling. What the hell is this shit? They fling this little bowling ball with a handle on it and then somebody else like scrubs the ice in front of the thing and then it goes in the circle, and uh…Why’s everything so goddamn pointless? And now these broads are moaning “HAAAAARD” as they throw the thing. When did everything get so complicated? I feel like I can’t breathe!
Thursday, February 16, 2006
The Olympics are an Illuminati Conspiracy.
HERE’S THE FACTS:
The level of security has been raised to blood red running out of the face of an old man shot by Dick Cheney with a shotgun.
I keep reading about how Rupert Murdoch now owns MySpace, first in the USA Today on monday that featured Shaun “Flying Tomato” White, then today in Vanity Fair which I bought because it has beautiful naked famous girls on the cover.
Kroger is selling fetish gear to children.
A Korean dude won a bronze medal in one of those skate sports (I was distracted by the naked famous girls-Kiera Knightly and Scarlett Johanson! Rowr!) which he hopes will reunite him with his parents-he’s been living on the streets since he was 3.
Rupert Murdoch is a Sith Lord.
It rained really hard on me and drenched my clothes, but my Vanity Fair was safe in a bag.
Dr.Phil is an asshole.
They show Dr.Phil commercials during the Olympics.
Rain means Baby Jesus is crying.
Luge is scary.
These things are all connected.
I need someone to go get me some more cigarettes and girlie magazines while I concentrate.
Q: You know what “not a team player” usually means?
A: It means that you’re better at something than a bunch of clowns who want to tie you in and hold you back.
That’s what it means, suckers.Shani Davis doesn’t need to be part of some damn “group skate competition.” How the hell can skate racing be a team sport? That’s retarded. This fast ass dude is supposed to go out and risk falling and busting his ass or getting all cut up on some idiot’s skates so that this gang of pie faced crackers can drag their sorry asses and still not win a gold medal, when he could just save his wind and whup the shit out of all these slow ass punk ass no skate having countries out here? and then somebody is going to cry and say that he’s being “UnAmerican?” Since when was being American about letting yourself be held back by losers so you can all lose? The whole spirit of the Country is based on saying “No, you know what, maybe you should WORK HARDER and CATCH UP so that MAYBE if you TRY HARD enough, one day you MIGHT be as GOOD as I AM, you chicken hearted bastards, you stupid candyass nobodies.” That’s what I’m talking about!
Friday, February 17, 2006
To You It’s Obsession, To Me-It’s The Olympics
I’ve gotten many messages of concern from you MySpace girls that maybe I’m a little bit too riveted on the Olympics. Let me tell you something-I am absolutely fine. I just spent 4 hours sitting in a bathtub with no water in it, wearing my tracksuit, staring into a hand mirror and repeating the words “Throwing Rocks” over and over again. I didn’t think of the Olympics ONCE during that ENTIRE FOUR HOURS. I am NOT a person who has lost perspective! In fact, I’ve GAINED perspective.
Isn’t that commercial for Kraft Blue Macaroni and Cheese disturbing? With the toddler singing the Blues song, and he says “When momma wants to please me, she only needs to cheese me?” I find that disgusting. I’m going to write a letter to Kraft and I urge you to boycott cheese.
Anyway, back to the Olympics.
That Apollo Uno dude bugs the shit out of me. He is on thin ice. That hairdo is just too much, and I hate that face he makes, where he’s all, you know, “intent.” What a dick!
I see that there’s still these riots happening in Afghanastan about this cartoon, you know what cartoon makes me want to riot? Marmaduke. Fucking Marmaduke.
They’re showing clips now of women in the luge yesterday BUSTING their ASSES. your ass can get BUSTED doing that stuff. See, that’s why I hang out in the tub.
Tonight’s Olympic Events:
*Agony of Defeat
*Lifetimes of practice being thrown away like garbage
Saturday, February 18, 2006
Every time I watch, it’s FUCKING HOCKEY
Oh, I’m so upset!
Oh my goodness!
I’m out at night, I got shit to do, dog! Why do they only show this damn hockey all day! where’s the biathalon? That’s where the people ski to the shooting range, shoot, and then ski some more. “Bi” is is greek for “Two.” As in “bisexual” which is what Freddie Mercury was. Alot of people think he was gay-Not True.
Oh, waitaminute! Wait! I’m looking at nbcolympics.com, and it’s got SPOILERS! They’re talking on the webpage about stuff that happened that wasn’t on TV yet!
Those Dirty Dogs!
How can they do that to us?
Don’t anybody got any standards anymore?
Shani Davis won the 1000 meter dash! Suck on that, pissants! Slow cracker ass wieners! I can’t do anything for 1000 meters. What is that, like 700 miles?
Bode Miller SUCKS! Comin’ on TV, telling me I’m fat. Yeah, well maybe-but you and I have one thing in common “Bode”: Neither one of us are Olympic Medal Winning Athletes. I know what YOU are saying, too. you’re saying “You’re no athlete, Rocko! Ha!” Yes I am.
Yes I am.
I can play dodgeball better than anybody.
Up your nose with a rubber hose and upside your ass with a can of gas.
Don’t try to touch me!
And who the hell is named “Bode?”
Man, I am so angry right now.
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Ice Dance Brutality
Man, the dude from Canada dropped his ice dance girlfriend RIGHT ON HER ASS!
That is gonna take Excedrin Number 4!
I’m glad I stayed indoors and ate pizza, because when you go try to do stuff, you will get HURT!
The other highlight: Dick Button.
Switch over! CURLING IS ON!
I have got shit to DO today, Olympics! I’m running out of food! One piece of bread, no peanut butter, some jelly.
But it’s so cold out that it hurts.
But I gotta do it.
Just when I make the decision to go to Meijer’s (I’m boycotting Kroger because of the fur lined handcuffs for kids thing)…it’s Curling.
Fucking Curling is on!
How can I turn this shit down?
Time for a jelly sandwich.
Monday, February 20, 2006
You know, I’ve had women pretty steamed at me before, but I hope I never know the level of rage that must be directed at you when you drop an Italian woman on her ass at the Olympics during the ice dance competition. This chick is so mad at this dude right now in the finals that I think she’s actually melting the ice. I actually did Swing damncing a few times (shutthefuckup) and I was always extremely worried that I was going to maim a woman. That’s the kind of thing that’s just hard to explain.
“Hey, how did XXXXX get a black eye?”
“Oh, I threw her up in the air and she landed on her face because it turns out she’s too heavy to catch with one arm.”
Put that in the book of conversations I don’t want to ever have.
Oh, so then the Italian dude got through tonight’s dance without killing the chick and then he’s so overcome by the whole thing that he looks like he’s having a nervous breakdown backstage. All shit aside, I feel bad for the guy.
Tell you who I don’t feel bad for-Bode Williams.
Compete in every event that involves skis, underperform in all of them, act pissed off, shit on “the media” but then have a Nike Commercial every other break where you talk like you’re Marlon Brando or something, so profound and tortured because people want to take your picture. What an asshat!
Meanwhile, the guy the media really actually seems to want to crucify is Shani Davis. All that guy did was show up, keep his statements terse, direct, and to a minimum, focus on what he came to do, and do that, making America proud. Then all you see is all this shit about “Olympian puts the I back in team.”
I can’t help but think that there’s an underlying verve of racism to it.
I’m usually the last guy to jump to that conclusion, but I can’t shake the impression that they would really like to stick it to his ass, but they take the passive/aggressive route and don’t, as if to say “Well black man who is good at sports, we’re very sorry you don’t want to be part of our team.” They imply that this guy did something really outrageous by doing exactly what he came to do and doing great at it, meanwhile “Bode” overextends himself and basically sucks at everything even as he acts like a jerk and I’m supposed to feel like he’s this martyr.
The press is giving the positive focus to the wrong guys entirely in this. “Bode,” and then Dan Jansen can’t seem to keep from falling down. Apollo James Almos or whatever is a pretty boy who would clearly slit anyone’s throat to get ahead, which is why he got knocked out of ice roller derby or whatever that was instead of getting Silver; he just had to try to cut that dude out in front. These WASPy dickheads who act ingraciously all through the thing and then fail, and are bad losers. Embarassing. I say to Hell with them. The right guys are winning the Gold for America. I hope after this is over and the decor gets stacked up it’s Shani Davis, Shaun White, and Brad Trinkle that history remembers.
It might not look too good for Brad Trinkle because I’m pretty sure that’s not really that guy’s name and I don’t know what he won a medal for and couldn’t pick him out of a line up, but the other two cats are bad as hell.
Today I spent some time bonding with singing sensation Jamie Barnes, who has lit the world sad music on fire with his latest EP, “Origami Birds Can’t Fly.” Check out his MySpace page:
Anyway, he’s a big Hockey fan as it turns out, but even he had to admit that women’s Hockey isn’t as slam bang as it needs to be. And that means naptime.
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
So these girls go up on a ramp, twirl around in the air and do flips and shit, then land and probably blow out their knees and/or ankles. What the hell, man. The tally of injuries on this year’s Olympics are gonna look like that of a War. We could actually go to War witb Torrino and have less injuries. Let’s look into that.
My man Shani and Dereck Hedrick’s cracker ass sat down for a press conference. they were in a big race where Shani won Slver,Dereck won Bronze, and some Italian dude (We’ll call him “Mambo Italiano”) won Gold. Which is, you know, about right. The whole thing was about how they were adults and weren’t gonna go fight in the snow, but at the end Shani said “Hey, y’know, it would’ve been nice if this sissy ass had shaken my hand after I won Gold in the 1000 meter. Just puttin’ that out there” and then split! Fucking A!
Now, if I were Dereck (I hate dudes named “Dereck”) I’d gone ahead and gotten up, gone over, and hugged that motherfucker. like, Ok, y’know, you didn’t do the team thing, but you’re fast, homes. Good job. But nooooo. He just sat there sipping his bottled water out of a cup like a douchebag! Man. Embarassing!
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Ice Skating Girls: Busting Their Asses
Hey, you know what, if I fell down on the ice like that, I’d probably never get up. Especially if I was dressed like She-Ra. I’d just lay there and die on the ice like a fish or a polar bear who’s just been shot down by a cannon.
A polar bear with red fur.
I’ve been letting my fur (hair) grow out again like I do every year, and like every year, this time of year, it starts to feel like it’s trying to take over my brain. I’ll be going about my business and my hair says “Hey man, go to the gas station and spray gas all over the pavement, stop the meter on $6.66, then split” or “Oprah Winfrey should be assasinated” or “eat 17 grapefruit in a row” or “Kill and eat Fabio.”
I need a haircut.
Saturday, February 25, 2006
So Long, Olympics
Time for you to go! I’ve been watching! All done now! Over! I shaved my crazy hair off! Feel better!
E P I L O G U E
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Right out in public…
Sometimes when you’re drinking or fucking or eating or otherwise getting high and you reach the end of what is physically possible, when you’ve exhausted all of everything available, and you should be done, you’re not. You yourself are done, you can’t move anymore, your mind is on fire, nausea is setting in, you’re spent. But something beyond your body and the tender membrane inside your skull isn’t done. The real you hasn’t had enough yet. You need to get it there again. You need to make it happen, you need to get closer to the fire. And Right Now, not later. Now. C’mon. There’s still vice left. Absorb it.
Milwaukee is always making beer. Do what you need to do to get to the fucking “Wipe-Out.” You wont get there by writing out your ass about it on the internet, chicken-little.Grow some balls and become divine.
Hit that shit again. Come on, it’s hedonism, it has a name, it’s allright. Indulge. Over indulge. What’s going to happen? Well, maybe your little fucking chicken-heart is gonna finally pop. There’s absolution. Did you think of that?Well, crash it out, shake your ass. Fucking go for it. You know you want to.
What the hell is up with that shit? What is living in there, out there? What’s this compulsion? Is that your Soul? Or is it the Devil? It?s all fun and games until its 4 AM and you cannot stop. Rationale is funny-talk when you don’t want to see straight, when you want to fuck until you stay fucked. When is the insatiable finally satiated? What does it take? what about self preservation?
These are the Important Questions of Our Time. Maybe any time, at least since we eliminated natural selection. Everything that feels good is killing you. And not really a leisurely “You don’t know about your cancer yet” kind of killing you, but a proactive, taste some fucking death in your third steak kind of way, that makes you want to switch to booze again just to hop on the other foot so you can still get off later. And you never want to let anyone down on that front, so you better make sure you’re not so fucked up you can’t give it 100%, since the odds are against you with all the toxins trying to turn your body off like a light switch. Trying to turn your brain into jelly and your dick into peanut butter, and a loaf of bread in-between, but your libido is strong enough to whoop that shit back down again.
These are the best days of your life, but there’s a fucking little bit of disappointment because you didn’t win yet. You’re still going to have to get up and pay a bill, or waste precious time exchanging bon mots with some jerkoff, or tolerate cretins that you hate because anything else is impractical,or some mundane shit like that. If you had gotten it
right, you would’ve melted the cosmos like butter in a frying pan (which you could then drink from a mason jar) when you were getting down and wash all that shit out. Come on, everybody, it’s like Free Love, only instead of hanging out you really do drop out. Then turn to dust which I can snort up and free fall into something outside known perception and finally find the real satisfying high, the “Anti-Life Equation.” Fuck philosophy and theorizing, it’s oblivion I’m after. But I want to tell the tale. What the fuck would I want a cake for in the first place if not to eat the son of a bitch?
Maybe if I didn’t have this fucking monkey on my back, I could’ve focused on something besides my Id and become some kind of Big Oompah, but fuck him. Fuck the Big Oompah. Captains of Industry are driven by some backwards inability to get it done without holding some real estate or a trophy bride or whatever the hell. Not what drives me, which is feeling good. I want to feel great constantly. 99 and a half won’t do, motherfucker. Man’s best friend is debauchery.