You Are About To Witness The Strenf Of Street Knowledge 0 comments

Posted by grampa in the real shit (Friday March 30, 2007 at 11:24 pm)

Holy crap.  Sean Penn brings the noise.

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Used Without Permission 4 comments

Posted by grampa in random shit (Thursday March 29, 2007 at 10:10 am)

Yeah, so a friend of mine, the beautiful and talented uber-Meg, wrote this back in January and I’ve just been loving it for the last couple of months now, and I thought that I would repost it here.  To me, it’s so beautiful that I needed to share it with you.

I’d link to her, but I think she may want to remain anonymous. 

If this post disappears, it’s because she asked me to remove it.


sometimes you have to flick the filth off
it’s so thick, weeks of stained grace
and favour gone wrong
faith forgotten in the face of
an every morning armageddon

toes that bleed through dirty socks
a blanket that gets pissed on
every time you sleep
hair you’d rather pull out than
suffer the stench of

on days like these few things are important

but don’t forget to ask the question,
“what would tom waits do?”
as you hunch in whino prayer
over a friendly bar
finding clues in that same old outline,
a hopeful ring of condensation
that some chump who came before you
left behind

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Where’s Waldo? 12 comments

Posted by grampa in health,I am full of love (Wednesday March 28, 2007 at 7:18 am)

Right, so I realize that I’ve been gone for far too long, but sometimes life just gets complicated and full and something has to get cut out and lately it’s been blogging.

That being said, I’m going to make a conscious effort to try and get back to it.

Just as an update, I thought that I’d let the world at large know that I finished the year-long interferon treatment for my hepatits C back in mid-January.  One month later, I took blood tests to see if the virus had come back.  A few weeks ago I got the results.

It hasn’t.

I didn’t truly realize how much the various drugs and fear that it would return had been weighing on me, how much it really hurt, until it was over.  I mean, still, it may come back, they’ll check at six months and one year and if it hasn’t come back, then it’s considered a cure.  But, today, life is pretty fucking fantastic.  I’m off almost all of the massive amount of prescriptions that I was taking, I’ve beat back the two month long cheeseburger and ice cream bender that I was on as a result of being bummed out about the death of my last relationship and I’m feeling, well, better than I ever have.  I’ve been on this insane exercise program, working out twice a day everyday (man that stairmaster is a bitch), eating right and getting plenty of sleep. 

I’ve been really busy with NA related activities and the guys that I sponsor in the program and I’ve been dating again.  I haven’t found anyone that I see a relationship forming with at this time, but ol’ Grumpus is back in the game.

I’ve come to the conclusion that, having cheated death as many times as I have, that this whole living life thing doesn’t need to be so difficult and that, at times, I choose to make it complicated.  Lately, I’ve been really good at just kicking back and letting life happen instead of trying to force anything.

Unfortunately, this happiness and inner calm thing that I’ve got going on right now doesn’t make for the best writing fodder, as, and you may have noticed, I tend towards the cynical and sardonic. 

That being said I’ll dig deep into my bag of suppressed rage and hatred of the external to report to you on the state of the Gramps in the coming days and weeks.

Just remember, I’m only doing this for you.

And just as an aside, I was driving home from Hilo the other day and there was this old homeless guy walking down the street, huge bushy hair, like King Tonga’s, only white, and a long Gandalf beard.  He was sort of dejectedly staring at the ground, shuffling along on the side of the road, not paying attention to anyone or anything.

Except, he had his left hand up and was flipping the bird to everyone and everything that passed him.  Not looking for any reaction, mind you, as he was staring at the ground, but just giving the old high five to the cocksucking external.

I immediately rolled my window down and screamed “Yeaaaaaaaaaah,” as, indeed, here was a kindred spirit. 

Had I been going the same way, I’d’ve givin’ that fucker a ride.

Immediately I called Tonga to report this (King Tonga and I flip each other off every time we see each other.  It’s my decidedly East Coast version of the Hawaiian kiss on the cheek greeting).  He said “Shit, you must feel right at home.”

And you know what?

I do.

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