Growing up A) male, and B) American, I am inherently drawn to sports. Not like your super-freaky-weird-guy-sportscenter-whore-irrelevant-sports-trivia-man who can reel off the 1997 September batting average of Chuck Knoblock at the drop of a hat like some over-obsessed psychotic when nobody gives a rats-ass (neither will this information ever help said guy get laid), but I do enjoy competition, and the sport of college football ranks the highest on this list. Since I don't watch tv...ever...I only catch the games when I'm with my friends. I don't give a shit about the Super Bowl, the NBA as a whole, college basketball only in March, Major League Baseball plays too many games, and the teams with the most money are the teams who ALWAYS win (shocker), hockey is irrelevant, and I'm not European, or a girl, so soccer isn't ever on my radar.
But there is one sporting event which will never cease to hold my attention. It has ever since I was a child and it will to the final minutes on my death bed. It raises emotions on the full spectrum from raging hatred to pure elation. The Texas Tech / Texas A&M football game consistently ranks as one of the Top Five most prominent days of any given year for me. My hate runs deep...real deep for the maroon and white. And my love runs even deeper for the Scarlet and Black.
LONG LIVE THE MATADOR!!
Friday, September 29, 2006
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Balls
The last, oh I don't know, 400 posts I've made have been slightly spaced-out, emotive, twisting psycho-babble and I want to put something inane up here. Not that anybody reads this shit anyways. I could blather on and on about how I like to rape puppies and nobody would be the wiser, but for my own sake, I guess I'd like a change of pace every now and then...if not just to be a little more lighthearted. Good Lord, this has turned into my online diary....
I'm growing a goatee...I wanna see if it works. I started it on Monday. I've been getting crazy looks at work, so I'm going to ride it out till the end of the week and see if I can make it happen. I can tell that everybody wants to say something about its presence, but they just won't. It's like they're too afraid to tell me, "Ummmm...Cory....you have a squirrel growing on your face. Thought you should know." Plus, I like to make people wonder about me. I can tell the people at work still don't really know what to make of me. There's a few that know me fairly well, but most of them tread lightly around me, wondering what's gonna come out of my mouth or what I might possibly do. I mean, I've come to work after a few weekends with a bandage over my forehead, a bloody nose, a jacked up hand, and they still think my hair is a bit too progressive. They get all uneasy like a wild animal before a thunderstorm when I'm around. I don't think they want to make any sudden movements for fear of what I would do.
I've never had a goatee, and I'm wondering if it makes me look, in any way, like a roadhouse badass. In my mirror at home, it bends that way. If I get just ONE compliment....it stays.
*As I write this there are two guys behind me talking about how they know each other. One of them just came back to work for WBAP...apparently he worked here before and has made a recent triumphant return. His "joke" just now went like this:
Guy 1: Hey you! You back on board with us?
Guy 2: Yeah, I couldn't keep away from this place.
Guy 1: How long ago was it that you were here? Like two years ago? Do you remember me?
Guy 2: Yeah, you look real familiar. I actually left four years ago, got lost in the mess up north and now here I am. *wait for it, wait for it* I HAD MORE HAIR BACK THEN THOUGH!
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
*Uproarious (inexplicable) laughter from approximately 6 to 7 people in the area...I mean rowdy laughter*
My God, I have to get the eff outta here.
I'm growing a goatee...I wanna see if it works. I started it on Monday. I've been getting crazy looks at work, so I'm going to ride it out till the end of the week and see if I can make it happen. I can tell that everybody wants to say something about its presence, but they just won't. It's like they're too afraid to tell me, "Ummmm...Cory....you have a squirrel growing on your face. Thought you should know." Plus, I like to make people wonder about me. I can tell the people at work still don't really know what to make of me. There's a few that know me fairly well, but most of them tread lightly around me, wondering what's gonna come out of my mouth or what I might possibly do. I mean, I've come to work after a few weekends with a bandage over my forehead, a bloody nose, a jacked up hand, and they still think my hair is a bit too progressive. They get all uneasy like a wild animal before a thunderstorm when I'm around. I don't think they want to make any sudden movements for fear of what I would do.
I've never had a goatee, and I'm wondering if it makes me look, in any way, like a roadhouse badass. In my mirror at home, it bends that way. If I get just ONE compliment....it stays.
*As I write this there are two guys behind me talking about how they know each other. One of them just came back to work for WBAP...apparently he worked here before and has made a recent triumphant return. His "joke" just now went like this:
Guy 1: Hey you! You back on board with us?
Guy 2: Yeah, I couldn't keep away from this place.
Guy 1: How long ago was it that you were here? Like two years ago? Do you remember me?
Guy 2: Yeah, you look real familiar. I actually left four years ago, got lost in the mess up north and now here I am. *wait for it, wait for it* I HAD MORE HAIR BACK THEN THOUGH!
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
*Uproarious (inexplicable) laughter from approximately 6 to 7 people in the area...I mean rowdy laughter*
My God, I have to get the eff outta here.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Pull the Wheels Out From Under You
Maybe the next time I see you, you'll be a little more cordial. I mean, you haven't the slightest clue as to the power I hold over you. I hold your future in my hands my friend. With only the slightest move, I can run the cold steel blade across your throat so fast, you'd be left floundering as to where the six-inch gash in your windpipe came from...clutching onto your neck while it rolls out in between your fingers onto your chest. How could you have overlooked it...how you didn't see it coming...you will only know that it hurts with relentless pain, and no bucket can carry what's spilled.
Truth be told though, I can see how blinded you are. You take things for granted. You take her for granted. Every cold shoulder tossed her way, every wandering eye she catches you on, every night of lusting, and every minute of disdain for her presence pushes her farther away. But you know all of this. You're in total control. I know a million just like you. You've got it all figured out. Pulling all the strings, the world is your marionette. Your total invincibility is an oversight man, if not a complete illusion. You have no clue. You're totally oblivious. I see all of this. Your condescension, and your cockiness...I almost want to do it for shits and giggles. Just to be amused. It's amusing to me to watch you watching yourself high atop your pedestal. A pedestal that I have the axe to bring down. It's a high just knowing that I hold that power over you...someone so deserving of wreckage. What's more fun, is that you have no idea that I hold the axe. It lays idle for now.
But somewhere along the way that ball comes rolling into my court. At some point my friend, I'm going to pick it up and play with it. I haven't yet. I've decided against crossing the line. I've decided my fortunes lay better allied with restraint and conscience...for now. You see, I've done a bit of molding as of late. Years ago, this would only be a formality and you'd already be laid to waste. Staggering around disoriented, and wondering how the wheels were pulled out and more importantly, why. The thing is, I've been on the receiving end of this before...where I thought I was invincible...but forcefully found out, contrary to my belief, that I wasn't. I don't think you've ever been taught this lesson. That's what makes it so tempting. Well, that and your swaggering conceit. The bigger they are the harder they fall...the more spectacular the wreckage. In some ways, it would feel like payback to the egoistic piece of shit who dealt me the same hand. I imagine him and you being cut of the same cloth.
Opportunity after opportunity has presented itself for me to pull the rip-cord on you. But because of ME, you still have your sanity. MY restraint is keeping your house in order. How long is my patience? How far does my conscience stretch? How solid are my values? How evil am I? For your sake, you should hope they are all ironclad. It only takes one slip. It only takes one night. It only takes one more rattling of my morals. It only takes one more opportunity of timing. It only takes one more of your indiscreet mis-steps and you might be facing the world alone. I could poison you.
Good news for you is...I'm not wicked fucked-up.
Truth be told though, I can see how blinded you are. You take things for granted. You take her for granted. Every cold shoulder tossed her way, every wandering eye she catches you on, every night of lusting, and every minute of disdain for her presence pushes her farther away. But you know all of this. You're in total control. I know a million just like you. You've got it all figured out. Pulling all the strings, the world is your marionette. Your total invincibility is an oversight man, if not a complete illusion. You have no clue. You're totally oblivious. I see all of this. Your condescension, and your cockiness...I almost want to do it for shits and giggles. Just to be amused. It's amusing to me to watch you watching yourself high atop your pedestal. A pedestal that I have the axe to bring down. It's a high just knowing that I hold that power over you...someone so deserving of wreckage. What's more fun, is that you have no idea that I hold the axe. It lays idle for now.
But somewhere along the way that ball comes rolling into my court. At some point my friend, I'm going to pick it up and play with it. I haven't yet. I've decided against crossing the line. I've decided my fortunes lay better allied with restraint and conscience...for now. You see, I've done a bit of molding as of late. Years ago, this would only be a formality and you'd already be laid to waste. Staggering around disoriented, and wondering how the wheels were pulled out and more importantly, why. The thing is, I've been on the receiving end of this before...where I thought I was invincible...but forcefully found out, contrary to my belief, that I wasn't. I don't think you've ever been taught this lesson. That's what makes it so tempting. Well, that and your swaggering conceit. The bigger they are the harder they fall...the more spectacular the wreckage. In some ways, it would feel like payback to the egoistic piece of shit who dealt me the same hand. I imagine him and you being cut of the same cloth.
Opportunity after opportunity has presented itself for me to pull the rip-cord on you. But because of ME, you still have your sanity. MY restraint is keeping your house in order. How long is my patience? How far does my conscience stretch? How solid are my values? How evil am I? For your sake, you should hope they are all ironclad. It only takes one slip. It only takes one night. It only takes one more rattling of my morals. It only takes one more opportunity of timing. It only takes one more of your indiscreet mis-steps and you might be facing the world alone. I could poison you.
Good news for you is...I'm not wicked fucked-up.
Friday, September 22, 2006
A Slow Rising Crescendo
Hot air will pass over the grooves in the reed. Following the grooves of potential splinters, it passes over flying lightly into the open chamber of the barrel of the instrument to which it is assigned a note...assigned a destiny and a purpose. Each pad of the instrument closes, sectioning off a certain percentage of the air passing through to deliver, in a shrink-wrapped package, a note upon the ears of the world. At first it's forced...we're forced, to go in directions we weren't made to follow. But with each closing hole, and each blocked direction, we find a new passage that leads to freedom and into the vast open to be shared with the infinite abundance of audible destinations. Lewis and Clark experienced a variable of this type of freedom and seclusion. The mighty Colorado forced them in directions that weren't necessarily on the map, but ultimately led them to the freedom they had the passion to follow...whether it was planned or not.
We follow the direction and the flow of the tide. Swim against it and you drown like a virgin amongst today's hip scene, but swim with it, and you have the opportunity to take the turns and abrupt stops that are required upon yourself. We rise and fall, rise and fall into oblivion and upwards like the phoenix rising out of ash. Reborn into something abundant and fruitful where we fall upon the infinite abundance of audible and mental destinations. Who hears us we can only hope for, but we can't control. If you have a song, sing it to those who want to hear it. If you have a picture, draw it for those who want to see it. If you have a story write it for those who want to read it. If you have a crime commit it against those who deserve it, and if you have love deliver it to those who have never truly felt it or know it's consuming power. Don't be surprised if you're turned away, but don't let your message fall on deaf ears. Just because you're turned away at one corner, doesn't mean that the childhood of wasted opportunity wants to waste yours.
Rise above the decaying monotony that surrounds you. Be a light that shines. Be the note that is delivered at the apex of the solo. Be the color that draws all attentions to the decipherable message within the picture. Be the moral of the story. Like a rocket climbing the stratosphere, we jettison our solid rocket boosters to climb into the clear blue cold of silence that holds only purity...the type of purity that looks back on the world and sees what is left. The madness, the mess. Move awkward in your gravity deprived environment and see your reflection in the face of the sun. Because in your orbit, you hold the highest note...higher than a piccolo with fingers at the end of a high "C"...and your mercurial rise shall be the justification for us all, but more importantly, for yourself.
We follow the direction and the flow of the tide. Swim against it and you drown like a virgin amongst today's hip scene, but swim with it, and you have the opportunity to take the turns and abrupt stops that are required upon yourself. We rise and fall, rise and fall into oblivion and upwards like the phoenix rising out of ash. Reborn into something abundant and fruitful where we fall upon the infinite abundance of audible and mental destinations. Who hears us we can only hope for, but we can't control. If you have a song, sing it to those who want to hear it. If you have a picture, draw it for those who want to see it. If you have a story write it for those who want to read it. If you have a crime commit it against those who deserve it, and if you have love deliver it to those who have never truly felt it or know it's consuming power. Don't be surprised if you're turned away, but don't let your message fall on deaf ears. Just because you're turned away at one corner, doesn't mean that the childhood of wasted opportunity wants to waste yours.
Rise above the decaying monotony that surrounds you. Be a light that shines. Be the note that is delivered at the apex of the solo. Be the color that draws all attentions to the decipherable message within the picture. Be the moral of the story. Like a rocket climbing the stratosphere, we jettison our solid rocket boosters to climb into the clear blue cold of silence that holds only purity...the type of purity that looks back on the world and sees what is left. The madness, the mess. Move awkward in your gravity deprived environment and see your reflection in the face of the sun. Because in your orbit, you hold the highest note...higher than a piccolo with fingers at the end of a high "C"...and your mercurial rise shall be the justification for us all, but more importantly, for yourself.
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