Scott's Column Page - This is where I talk about anything I choose

hey, buy me a Pepsi

"Reflection "

Welcome to the Skinny Boy Online editorial page. This used to be the place where I talked about whatever I chose, whether it was to bitch about those people who drive 45MPH in a 55MPH zone, or how I want to get out and see the world, or how most people don't know about underground music, that MOST bands had demos and CD's on small, indie labels BEFORE they got on a major.... Whatever.

Lately though, this has been an online journal of sorts, a "state-of-the-union" so to speak of my life. It's honest, frank, and raw. So honest and frank that if you don't want to read about that kind of thing, STOP HERE.

Some of these posts are also on my MySpace blog page. Some of the posts on my MySpace blog are not on here. Some of you will not care.

In any case, this is my forum. If you don't want to be here, click here to go back to the main page. If you choose to stay, here's the disclaimer:

I attempt to hold no legal responsibility for the content on this page. The stupid (or smart, or offensive, or funny) things that I say are all my own.

So don't sue me.

And for God's sake, get over your bad self already!

Updated 06/06

Like A Rock

Written June 24th, 2006

Today I was reading a magazine, having my second cup of morning coffee, and listening to music, when a song came on my Yahoo player that made me stop and listen.

It is a song I have heard a hundred times before. A song that plays often in my Yahoo Music player, as I have it rated pretty highly to do so.

It's Bob Seger's "Like a Rock."

Yes, the same song that Chevy used in their commercials. But why did Chevy choose to use it, and why am I writing about it now?

Because in my mind, that song is the compact and concise embodiment of a feeling inside many of us, what some would call the American Spirit.

It is our love for our family, our hometowns, the country we call home.

It is the love for our ideals, our steadfast values, our devotion to the Golden Rule, our firm belief that life is good.

It evokes our nostalgia for the past, and our hopes for the future.

To me, it is all these things, and still more.

I remember when the song came out, back in 1986. I was a junior in high school. I was on a long downward spiral, depressed and drinking too much, unsure of myself and who I was, lost in a haze of musical anger and pot smoke.

It was "Like a Rock" and others like it that rekindled a flame in me, a feeling of hope and a confirmation of my core values that all the heavy metal in the world didn't muster. It reminded me of my childhood days, sitting in front of the record player with dozens of albums spread out around me, falling in love over and over again with songs that touched me, raised something in me.

It was "Like a Rock" that reminded me that I was not the tough kid, the badass that I was trying to become in order to hide the pain and the sensitivity that were like an ocean under the surface.

And now, twenty years later, it still (obviously) brings out this feeling in me, this burning, this need to be who I am, to state to everyone that I am who I am, and not afraid to tell you this: I am emotional, I am nostalgic, I am a romantic, there is an ocean in me that I am still -- 37 years-in now-- trying to find ways to accommodate and deal with, knowing that I am a master at hiding it, wanting to keep it hidden because I know how the world sees a man with his heart on his sleeve.

It is the words to this song -- and that haunting, sorrowful-yet-staid slide guitar solo -- that still bring out the goose bumps after all these years:

"And I stood arrow-straight, unencumbered by the weight of all these hustlers and their schemes. I stood proud, I stood tall -- high above it all -- and I still believed in my dream"

I know I am not the only one who has a song that makes you feel this way. I'd actually be interested to hear about your song. I really would. Feel free to post a comment -- tell me yours.

Dirty Little Secrets and other Musings

Written June 21st, 2006

I went back home for a visit last week, it was a much needed vacation.

Needed because I miss so much about my hometown -- my family, my friends, the scenery... not that I don't have friends here in Prescott, and the scenery here is beautiful too...

This is how I explained it, this dirty little secret of mine, to a friend: it's like there is a whole other Scott back home, or that a huge chunk of me still resides there, and when I go back, I feel more like I'm whole again...

Why don't I feel 'whole' in Prescott? It's hard to explain. It just seems that I'm not really ME, the ENTIRE me, until I go back home...

There is a whole group of people, family and friends, who really know me, who know the full extent of my sense of humor, who know about my juvenile deliquent days, who know about how obnoxious I used to be, who know that I was never as much of a loner as I am now (both socially and romantically).

Look, it's not that I want to move back home. Sure I could hang with old friends, sight-see, party, and probably date a lot (the pool of eligible men in Tioga County is pretty small). But opportunity is very rare in that area. And the winters suck too.

I'm just trying to figure it out, ya know? Will I ever feel that way here? Do I stay here? Do I go somewhere else? Am I really just destined to move back home, like so many other people have?

I don't know. I don't have the answers. I'm just typing my thoughts.

Oh, and another dirty little secret: I like Sarah McLachlan. I have for a long, long time. Yes, Scott, the metal and punk guy, likes Sarah McLachlan. And the only person who knows that out here is Tiffany.

And Tiffany and I grew up in Wellsboro, and moved out here together.

Life is funny sometimes.

Random Thoughts from My Weekend

Written June 4th, 2006

Here are some random thoughts from this past weekend (in no particular order, of course):

-- I like to drive fast. If the speed limit on the freeway is 75, I like to drive 82. Why 82? Because I'd really rather do 90. But 90 would cost me a LOT of money were I to get caught, and I'm waaaaayyyy too practical to allow that. So 82 is my law-breaking fringe.

-- I am lonely, but I am not desperate. Just because she's single, doesn't mean I HAVE to hit on her. I'm a little more discerning than that.

-- Jerry Cantrell was never in Mother Love Bone. What? Here's the story: When I go down to Phoenix to watch Garrett race at Canyon Raceway, I always stop at this little gas station @ Rock Springs because they have birch beer. Birch beer reminds me of home. The lady who works there is from Pennsylvania too.

Anyhow, I stopped in there yesterday and grabbed the obligatory birch beer, and heard some cool tune playing on the stereo there, so I asked her who it was. She said Jerry Cantrell. She went on to say she's loved him ever since he was in Mother Love Bone, and then Alice in Chains, and now that he's in Audioslave. I just nodded my head in agreement.

If you know one thing about me, you know that I have an encyclopedic mind for music. No, Jerry Cantrell was never in Mother Love Bone (you're thinking of 1/2 the guys from Pearl Jam). Yes, Alice in Chains is right (he was the guitar player). But no, he is not now in Audioslave (now you're thinking of Chris Cornell, the ex-singer of Soundgarden).

But the point of this story is that I am NOT the kind of person to correct this woman, to stand there and tell her where she was wrong. I KNOW people like that, and I HATE IT.

If you're someone who has to correct people when they make a mistake, or to prove how right or smart you are -- I feel sorry for you, and I will probably not hang around you for long.

-- Empathy and kindness are underrated, undervalued, and under-utilized.

-- Metallica. I LOVE old-school Metallica. How can you NOT get wound-up when the second half of "One" plays?!? I might like country music now, but DO NOT forget -- I am a big metalhead, and am in touch with my inner angst. So don't piss me off. Hugs and kisses, ya'll.

-- Here is a quick list of (what I perceive to be) some of my weaknesses: I'm solitary, I'm often shy, I'm quiet, I sometimes think mean thoughts, I like my life to be simple, I can be lazy, I hate drama, I sometimes let fear control me, I'm often too honest and open for my own good. There, got that out of the way.

-- I don't need any more drunks or people with alcohol problems in my life. I have enough, thanks. I grew up around it. I have many past and current friends with alcohol issues. I accept them and their weaknesses in exchange for their strong points. But I'm not looking to take on any newcomers. If you can't handle your drinking, I can't handle you. Sorry.

-- Bob Schneider. Cool tunes.

Getting Back on the Horse

Written May 11th, 2006

You start your day by smacking the alarm clock around. Then you drag your weary ass out of bed.

The shower is hot and it does what it can to wake you up. You stand there under the water, and think of the day before, the day ahead of you, and the days after that.

You shave the cobwebs off your face, wrap a towel around your waist, and head to the closet. Time to figure out what to wear:

Some say the clothes make the man. Some say be comfortable in your skin, and regardless of what you're wearing, you'll be fine.

You're somewhere in-between, aren't you? Some days there's almost a direct effect from what you put on. Women are always talking about putting on that dress and feeling sexy -- do guys feel sexy? Aren't there days where you just don't feel confident in what you're wearing?

So anyhow, you go to work, and you pass through the day, doing what you've gotta do. You go home, you do your chores, you watch a little TV, you check your emails.

She's there. In her message she basically says she got a weird, unsure feeling after your phone call last night. You remember that you did too...

... the awkward silences. The disjointed conversations of two people that don't know each other -- How much do you disclose? How much do you hold back? Is she normally this quiet? Does she want you to lead the conversation? What is she thinking right now? ...

Then she asks if you'd like to hang sometime. And yes, YOU WOULD. Because there's something in her eyes. Because there's something in the words she writes. Because it's time.

You've spent enough months healing from your last tumble. You've made friends with the empty house. You've found pieces of you everywhere, putting them together like some 3D jigsaw puzzle -- some pieces don't go in easily, and some pieces are still missing, and may always be.

So yes, it's time to get up, get on your feet mister. You can't run from your shadow, so why not accept him? He's always gonna be there, and you change, he changes, people change, the world keeps turning.

Just remember, the planet is full of ordinary people. There is nothing wrong with ordinary. You're not above anyone. Don't expect someone else to fill in your holes. If you go around looking for perfection, you're gonna be pretty fucking shocked, because it just ain't out there. Maybe in a waterfall, or a wave crashing on a shore, or a flower blooming from a cactus... but surely not in people.

All the 'what if's' are valid: what if she's a bitch? What if she is too serious, or quiet, or judgemental, or lazy, or indifferent, or....

But really, there is no decision to be made. You CAN'T just sit at home forever, or only hang with the friends you've already made. You have to reach. You have to grow.

As a movie quote goes: "Get busy living, or get busy dying"

Coming out of the Dark

Written April 1st, 2006

Wasn't that the title from some cheesy easy listening song? Is that why it popped into my head? What does that say about me? lol

It's a sunny Saturday morning here in Arizona, a few clouds in the sky, and the breeze is still chilly, but it IS only the 1st of April.

I was getting my second cup of coffee while a Josh Rouse song was playing on my Pandora station, and had a thought come into my head:

I'm getting better.

I feel like I'm finally starting to come out of this FOG I've been in for the last few months. It's been a strange and interesting ride since Tanya and I split in November. I've been through all sorts of stages: being angry, being bitter, blaming her, blaming myself, being scared, being lonely...

This particular time (as opposed to Tiffany, or Dinate, or Donna) I became quite reclusive. I have literally had NO LIFE, to the point where I just generally had a routine where I went to work...came home...watched TV...surfed the internet...ent to bed...lather, rinse, repeat...

It wasn't like I was sequestered out here, sitting around in a bathrobe with no lights on, drinking beer after beer and crying my brains out.

I did the things I love. If you ever watch one of those new-agey motivational videos, they will tell you (among other things) to dream big, and do what you love.

So that's what I did. I watched the movies and TV shows I love. I worked on my websites. I searched for and discovered great new music. I corresponded with women on dating sites. I laughed out loud. I made up strange voices and cracked myself up. I danced. I got emotional. And most of all, I gave myself time to GET OVER IT.

If I have learned anything from my past breakups, I've learned that you can't forget, fake, or force it. You just have to let it be what it is and let it take its course.

So yeah, I'm getting better. I'm not there yet. But I'm getting there. And getting there is good.

Thanks for reading.

Scott

Kids These Days

Written Feb 13th, 2006

I got an email this morning -- well, actually it was one of those "forwards" -- you know, that someone thought was 'cute" and 'just had to send it to you'.

Well this is one of those things. I thought it was funny, so I'm reposting it here. Because it's my website. Because I can.

Here it is:

When I was a kid, adults used to bore me to tears with their tedious diatribes about how hard things
were when they were growing up; what with walking twenty-five miles to school every morning .. uphill BOTH ways... through year 'round blizzards... carrying their younger siblings on their backs ... to their one-room schoolhouse, where they maintained a Straight-A average, despite their full- time, after-school job at the local textile mill.... where they worked for 35 cents an hour just to help keep their family from starving to death!

And I remember promising myself that when I grew up, there was no way in hell I was going to lay a bunch of crap like that on kids about how hard I had it and how easy they've got it!

But now that I'm over the ripe old age of thirty (pushing forty really), I can't help but look around and notice the youth of today.

You've got it so easy! I mean, compared to my childhood, you live in a damn Utopia! I hate to say it but you kids today you don't know how good you've got it!

When I was a kid we didn't have the Internet. If we wanted to know something, we had to go to the damn library and look it up ourselves, in the card catalog!!

There was no email! We had to actually write somebody a letter .. with a PEN! Then you had to walk all the way across the street and put it in the mailbox and it would take like a week to get there!

There were no MP3's or Napster or Morpheus or LimeWire! If you wanted to steal music, you had to ride your bike to the damn store and shoplift it yourself! Or you had to wait around all day to tape it off the radio and the DJ would usually talk over the beginning and @#*% it all up!

And talk of about hardship? You couldn't just download porn! You had to steal it from your brother, sneak it from your Dad's collection, or bribe some older dude to buy you a copy of "Hustler" or "Penthouse"! Those were your options!

We didn't have fancy crap like Call Waiting! If you were on the phone and somebody else called they got a busy signal, that's it! And we didn't have Caller ID either! When the phone rang, you had no idea who it was! It could be your school, your mom, your boss, your bookie, your drug dealer, a collections agent, you just didn't know!!! You had to pick it up and take your chances, mister!

We didn't have any fancy Sony Playstation video games with high-resolution 3-D graphics! We had the Atari 2600! With games like "Space Invaders" and "Asteroids" and the graphics sucked ass! Your guy was a little square! You actually had to use your imagination! And there were no multiple levels or screens, it was just one screen forever! And you could never win. The game just kept getting harder and harder and faster and faster until you died!
... Just like LIFE!

When you went to the movie theater there no such thing as stadium seating! All the seats were the same height! If a tall guy or some old broad with a hat sat in front of you and you couldn't see, you were just screwed!

Sure, we had cable television, but back then that was only like 15 channels and there was no onscreen menu and no remote control! You had to use a little book called a TV Guide to find out what was on! You were screwed when it came to channel surfing! You had to get off your ass and walk over to the TV to change the channel and there was no Cartoon Network either! You could only get cartoons on Saturday Morning. Do you hear what I'm saying!?! We had to wait ALL WEEK for cartoons, you spoiled little bastards!

And we didn't have microwaves, if we wanted to heat something up, we had to use the stove or go build a friggin' fire! If we wanted popcorn, we had to use that stupid JiffyPop thing and shake it over the stove forever like an idiot.

That's exactly what I'm talking about! You kids today have got it too easy! You're spoiled!

The Box

Written January 1st, 2006

Stupid MySpace.

I was typing out this whole long blog, you know, really in it, in the moment. And then I made a mistake and hit the enter key by accident and the stupid page refreshed and I lost the whole damn thing!

But wait, it's coming back, hold on...

I was just watching Mike Myers on "Inside the Actors' Studio" and it made me think, now there's a guy who obviously funny, and has great comedic sense, but another thing: he's obviously very intelligent, as is the case with many other comedians. He knows that his comedic sense exists on kind of a zen level -- it just is. He tries, but doesn't try, he just allows it to be.

Ok, so now, I know you're thinking a) Ok, uh, hello? WOW! What the fuck is he talking about? and b) What's the point?

The point is that it made me think of a concept, and a song, and a problem I have -- actually TWO problems I have, both relating to the same theme: a box.

The 1st problem: A big part of me has always existed, and needs to breathe and think and exist outside the box. But another part of me -- one of my character flaws -- is that I want to be able to be inside the box, to fit, because I know that's how people would want it. That's what's comfortable for them. It's structured, there are no surprises.

2nd problem: In appeasing that little boy in me -- the inner child's need of belonging and acceptance and validation -- I ALLOW people to place me inside the box. I suppress that creative and weird part of me. I see how people treat the artists and free thinkers -- with a casual disdain and slight suspicion. I want to join them, mocking those weird people outside the box.

Now, it all sounds a little dramatic, I know, but I see it in a lot of us. The desire to be who we are, tempered by the morals and values and confines of modern day life. Wanting to be a kid again -- not in an emotional sense, but in a spiritual sense -- in the way that kids don't have jobs, don't have a place to be, don't have responsibilities burdening them. They are pure. They can be silly. Silly is the norm, life with no inhibitions yet learned.

I'm not losing the kid in me. I'm just not going to allow it. He may go away sometimes, but I find him now and again, here and there -- more lately now that I'm alone again -- when he says stupid stuff and makes funny noises and voices, and laughs at himself and it all. And what is wrong with that?

"Lonely days will come and go,
nothing new unless you're bold,
revolution #19 brand new wave of anger
Stain yourself with pumpkin pie, liquid tattoo I got mine,
don't forget forgetfulness, call it deconstruction
There is no room inside a box,
there is no room inside.
Way down in the deep depress,
colder than the coldest yes,
we all know of loneliness
others to another,
just a place to run and hide
just a place to free your mind,
just a place to break the chains
and find whatever matters
There is no room inside a box,
there is no room inside.

-- "A Box" by King's X

Who I Am

Written December 4th, 2005

No, this is not an "About Me" thing where I try to explain who I am in a conveniently concise (and trite) summary.

What this is about is something I was thinking of this morning. It's a sunny day today here in Arizona, and it's the second Saturday since I split with my last significant other. I was trying to decide what to do with my day. Here's a short list of ideas I had:

1. Go down to the Outlets @ Anthem. I could shop for new clothes to mark my new start, and I could people watch too.

2. Go up to Flagstaff, grab a cheap room, and spend the day there eating and drinking and exploring. No worries about driving, and maybe even some snow on the ground (it is December for Christ's sake. I'm an East Coast guy. Sometimes all this SUN just doesn't seem right)

3. Go to a show in Phoenix. There's gotta be some alternative/punk/metal band playing. Then I could stop saying that I haven't been to a show in 4 years, and I could get back in touch with that part of me -- the guy who's seen like, a 1000 shows.

Yep, life is full of options, isn't it?

But the point of this here blog is, as I was considering what I should do with my day, a common thought was: what should I wear?

Ok, you can laugh now, I am. But when I thought about it, that question, "What should I wear?" became something a little deeper. As I start to re-emerge from this post-breakup cocoon, it is also a question of who I am; and let's face it: what you wear says a LOT about who you are.

Example:
You see a guy wearing a black music T-shirt, baggy jeans, black Doc Martens -- tattoos/spiked hair or not -- you make assumptions about who he is / what he's about. You might not think he's intelligent, quiet, calm, successful, whatever.

You see a guy with a nice sweater on, khakis, nice shoes, clean shaven -- you might not think that he's a guy who loves metal/alternative/punk, who used to be a vocalist in a metal band, who has a dark side.

See where I'm going with this? It's about identity -- how you see yourself in relation to how people see you.

I'm not saying I'm having some kind of identity crisis. I'm just saying that I'm not sure what part of me I want to show to the world, or even if I should f**cking CARE. That's my struggle today.

I've been here before...

Written November 2005

I had a good cry last night.

Now, you must be thinking, "What?!? What's wrong with this guy?"

Well, let me stop you there and let you know that it's been a week and a half since Tanya and I split up after a year and a few months together. I'm ALLOWED.

So I'm here again. This place. The roller coaster of a failed relationship. I bet some of those who know me will think "Damn, again?!?". That's what I thought! But what can you do?

So, as I was saying, last night I had a really good cry. It felt, uh, good I guess, to get it out. See, what I've learned from the Tiffany/Scott and Tanya/Scott breakups is this: what dignity do I have if I cannot allow myself to feel the emotions I have when I'm having them? How can I ever find joy again if I don't go through the pain -- to know what it is to not have happiness?

As far as the "why" Tanya and I split -- what can I say? It didn't work out? We weren't right for each other? I don't know. I don't have any answers. Just as she said to me: Despite being cynical and afraid of going forward, I have no other choice. I simply do not know what else to do.

That Whole Other Side of Me

Written May 2005

Wore black today. It matched my general mood. When I was leaving work at 6PM, I threw on some heavy music (Napalm Death, Skinlab). Went to Wal-Mart to pick up a couple things, and it must have shown on my face: I was having an angry day. People seemed to notice. They look at me. I wonder what they're thinking.

On the way to my house I was thinking about the CCAB days, and how good it felt to sing those words, to play that music, to release this anger that's always been like my shadow.

No one here on this side of the country knows that side of me (well, except for one). I may have shared the CCAB disc with some people, but that still doesn't show them that side of me. They've never seen my veins popping out and my face all red. They've never seen the rage in my eyes, how someone once said it made me look evil.

Well, during those moments, I felt it. It wasn't a mask.

I sometimes miss those days.

It's a New Year, Charlie Brown

Written January 21st, 2005

Been feeling incredibly emotional today.

Woke up this morning with Tanya sleeping next me. I listened to her breathe quietly for a few moments, then drifted back to sleep.

When she got up and left at 6am, we said our I love you's and our have a great day's and I continued to sleep, as it's Friday and I have the day off.

Woke up at 10, got up and had some orange juice and cereal. Did the usual things I do on my day off -- listened to music, read magazines, thought about what projects I could attempt to accomplish during the day.

While I set about my daily routines I felt such waves of emotions: elation, sorrow, longing, loss, hope, and on and on.

Elation because the last couple of days have been warm and relatively sunny, so warm I could walk around outside without a coat. I even had that teasing sense of spring fever, although I had to remind myself it's only January. Gotta love the weather in Arizona.

Elation because I've come to realize where I am in my life at 35: a new house, a new car, and the love of an incredible woman (you truly are, Tanya). I have many of the earthly possessions I've always wanted, and some others I still hope to obtain. I have my health, and (although the gray in my hair threatens to give it away) I still don't look like I'm in my mid 30's (36 next month).

Elation simply because I have the day off from work -- a job that's comfortable and pays well, but one I have no real passion for. And passion is something I want more of in my life.

Sorrow and longing because some days I get extremely homesick -- homesick for my family, homesick for the friends who are truly rare and close enough to me to really know me (and I mean know me and things about me that many don't know).

Sorrow and longing because to have gotten to this place is my life is to have so many regrets and mistakes, so many people that have come and gone in my life. To reflect on them is to feel that sorrow, and the longing to tell all of them I think of them, and their effect on my life, both good and bad.

Loss because I've lost so many things. People who have passed away, and people who have simply passed out of my life except for the memories that last.

Loss because to grow up and gain strength is sometimes to lose a part of you, pieces of you that you want to hold dearly but end up letting go. (For those who know the Twink, you probably don't miss the obnoxiousness)

Hope because I always hope to have more: more love, more things, more living.

And the hope to continue to grow and change and strive to become a better person than I am today.

Halfway There

I just wanted to take a moment to print the lyrics to a song that I played a LOT this last year, a song that helped me deal with the things I was going through, a song that I screamed along to on many a night as I drove home from being a single guy hitting the bars and dealing with shit...

The band is Rise Against. The song is "Halfway There"

HALFWAY THERE

Is this the point where we give up?
is this the point where we give in?
is this the point where we turn ourselves in?

Is this the time to ask questions?
is this the time to seek answers?
is this the time to throw it all in?

When enough is enough that's when you know that you're halfway there
when enough is enough that's when you know that you're halfway there
you're halfway there
that's when you know that you're halfway there

This is the point where we stand up
this is the point where we take back
the things that are keeping us from being free

When enough is enough that's when you know that you're halfway there
when enough is enough that's when you know that you're halfway there
that's when you know that you're halfway there

Your voice the airwaves sent you prayed my life would end,
the wasted time I spent ashamed I called you friend,
give me one reason, I need a reason, one reason

Colonics and the Pursuit of Happiness

Written Sunday, September 19th, 2004

Tonight I watched this hilarious episode of the show "Barely Famous" on CMT. The show follows two guys, the Warren Brothers, a country music duo trying to make it big, and in the meantime having their daily lives filmed (have you heard of this idea? I think it could be HUGE! Do more people know about this?!?). Now, I have to say a couple things: these are guys are more country as Kid Rock is trying to be, and they're not trying, get it? Second, if you ever want to see a behind-the-scenes look at the music biz, you should check this show out. And on top of that, these guys are funny.

This particular episode has them in Los Angeles -- two Nashville county guys in the land of all things plastic -- and they go and get colonics. This part had me laughing so hard! The very idea of going to some high-priced place to just get an enema --even if you're into that sorta thing -- just seems so L.A. -- know what I mean? It was just funny. Watch their show sometime...

Things are good here in sunny Arizona -- we had more rain today, and a nice cold front. I think you have to be from Pennsylvania to understand how funny it is that I get excited when it rains.

Finding Pieces of It Here and There

Written Sunday, September 5th, 2004

Over six months ago I broke up with my girlfriend of five years. It has been rough, but in some ways it has been possibly the most important six months of my life.

I have learned an incredible amount about myself � both good and bad. I can look back and see my mistakes, my weaknesses, as well as my strengths. And I think along the way I am finding myself again. I can laugh at myself, and at life, without any of the bitterness that was clouding my vision. I can cry at the silliest, sappiest stuff now, and I�m not afraid to admit it.

As for my ex, I can finally see past it all (the pain, anger, disappointment, etc.) and really see her for the woman I had fallen in love with. She has changed, grown tremendously. She is a good person, caring and compassionate, emotional and strong-willed. Yes, she has her scars, both visible and below the surface, but she too is trying to live her life in spite of - and not because of � those scars.

As you�re reading this, you may think to yourself, �Sounds like he still loves her.� The answer to that is simple, but the layers to it are not. Yes, at this moment I still love her. Of course, not in the way that I'm pining for her to come back to me and be with me forever. LOL

She has accomplished a lot, and I�m proud for her. And she is moving on with her life, and I�m happy for her too. We even seem to be finding little snippets of our old friendship here and there, and I�m grateful for that. I can even make her smile again, and hear her smile in the emails she sends me. I will forever be touched by it all.

So, over six months have passed, and I�ve gone through all the phases. But the phase I seem to be moving into is the most important of them all: letting go, and finding peace...

Conflicted, Contradictory, and other Cons

Written July 24th, 2004 by Skinny Boy

Earlier tonight I turned all the lights off and put on the 1992 movie soundtrack "Singles." As the feedback at the end of the Smashing Pumpkins song "Drown" squealed on in the background, I stood at my open living room window, breeze blowing in around me, and stared up at the night stars.

With a cold Beck's in hand, I shook my head slowly back and forth, and I distinctly remember wondering at that moment, "How am I going to do this?"

How am I going to do this? How am I going to balance the optimism that everything will turn out ok, with the self-defeatism and the cynicism? How do I embrace the hopeless romantic side of me, when it seems to me that I am someone who rarely gets close to people?

For every strong personal characteristic, there is an equally strong counter-effect. Like the fact that part of me craves to be around people, but another part of me is detached, shy, a wallflower, a watcher.

My life is a contradiction. The only thing I am consistent about is my love for music. And the soundtrack for my life this year so far is as varied as it has ever been. Country to metal, sad and depressing dirges to full-out exhilarating, make-me-want-to-dance music. Funny, that kinda parallels my dating experience since I've become single again. There's been highs and lows, good times and bad times (you know I've had my share...).

But before my friend Weaver (I miss you man, by the way) thinks, "There he goes...that's Twink, getting all morbid again..." I would tell him (and you) that it's ok. I'm ok. It's just part of life, of living, and I won't dumb it down for nothing. It is what it is, and I'm still learning.

"It's never black or white. Try being true."

Women and the New Manhood

Written July 3rd, 2004 by Skinny Boy

A friend recently said to me that relationships are so hard, it's a wonder that many work at all. Hmmmm, sounds like a Skinnyboy editorial to me...

I recently began dating again. I signed up for various online dating services, initially because I was so emotionally stunted after my break-up that approaching women was just too awkward, so it was convenient and less threatening.

I have met some amazing women online. It's funny how many people feel there's such a stigma attached to online dating. Maybe it's easier for a guy, since women are probably less likely to be misleading or deceitful online then we are (says a lot for us guys, doesn't it?)

But before I go into that, let me go back to the beginning...

I didn't date much in high school. I was way too messed-up and insecure to have the confidence to date. I tried, believe me! When you're a teenage male, you are a walking hormone!

My first time having sex was awkward, embarrassing, and unfulfilling. Most guys would just be glad to get over that hump (no pun intended), but I knew I would remember it for the rest of my life.

Then I met Karri. Although she was the same age as me, she had moved to PA from another state, she had a little boy, and she liked to party. She seemed worldly in a way. I won't go into it much, but I was a two-year relationship that was VERY tumultuous and stormy. We both had a lot of stuff we were working through, but I learned a lot from her -- she had a profound effect on my life.

After Karri I had a bit more confident, I found the thrill of chasing and being chased, and had a couple more short-term relationships: Donna and Dinate for almost two years each.

After the horrible train wreck that was Dinate and I, I took a long time to recover. Looking back now, I see that I had some major issues to deal with, and experienced cool stuff like depression, alcohol abuse, and an emotional breakdown of sorts.

(Pretty honest aren't I? Hey, if you know me at all, you'll know I'm not afraid of talking about my demons. If you don't know that about me, read all my rants, and then my poetry, and then run! Run away as fast as you can!)

So, after Dinate I was single for a long time. Years. I learned a lot about myself, I dated a lot, I began to develop an idea about what I wanted in a woman, and from a relationship. Because I was taking my time, I went through a lot of phases. At some points I was bitter. At others I was desperate for love. And at one point I even tried to be a dog (you know, a male slut).

I developed reputations -- which in a small town is not very hard. I was told that I was stuck up. I was told that I was too picky, that I was perceived as unattainable.

I was also told that I had a reputation as a hook-up artist, because I never asked anyone out.

This went on for years. Along the way, a friendship between a woman and I began to grow into an attraction, which (after she dumped her then-boyfriend) grew into dating, and then into love. We were together almost five years, then we had a very hard break-up, and now here I am...

Whew! There's the short history (and maybe not even short enough!)

Where was I going with all this? Oh, yeah: today, in the present, women and the new manhood...

As I said, I recently began dating again, and as I said I have met some amazing women. But I have had some difficulty: these are all women that any man would be lucky to fall in love with. Yet, I'm not ready for love yet, or any type of commitment in general -- it is simply too soon.

Each woman I dated, I could tell that she wanted more -- that she needed more than I can give at this point -- and that's hard. It almost makes me think I should stop dating and wait. But should I? Should I sit home and wait? Like I said, these are all amazing women, and I'm fortunate to have met them -- they each have made a indelible mark. And who is to say that in the future I might not decide I want to be with one of them, to love them as they should be loved.

But I digress (as I often do). I meant this long-winded column to be about men and women, in general, in this day and age.

The roles are changing. The dynamic is changing. Women are embracing their sexuality, and asserting their equality and their place in the world; not only in the bedroom, but in the boardroom, and in the home.

Men are changing too. No longer do all men feel like they have to live up to a macho standard. They are experiencing things long ridiculed for men: facials, makeovers, health & beauty products, even -gasp!- shopping! There is even a term for men who embrace their sensitivity (and some of the more feminine aspects): that term is metrosexual. You may laugh -- hell, I do too. But I've been told that I may be a metrosexual, that I have metrosexual tendencies, that I have some of the characteristics of such a man. It's funny! And you know what? Who cares?!?

My very good friend Rob recently came out to Arizona to hang with me as a vacation. We did a lot of guy stuff. We drank (a lot), we hiked, we burped, we farted, we ogled women. But we're different an many ways, and being good friends as we are, we give each other shit about it.

Rob is married. I have never been. Rob is trim and toned and built. I - well, I'm not as trim and toned as he is. He is a full-on testosterone-fueled, driven, A-personality alpha male. I am not.

Being that we are so different an many ways, we're still guys. We talked a lot; about sex and love, money, politics, music, the pursuit of happiness... we talked about it all.

The point is, which we talked about a lot; the whole concept of what it is to be a MAN, is changing. Women are changing. It's all changing. And because I've burnt myself out with this long discourse, I will summarize it all as this:

This: It's all confusing and hard, yet exciting at the same time -- for men and women alike. We all try. We all make mistakes.

Life is hard.

Life is fun.

It's an adventure, and I'm in it for the ride, no matter where it takes me.

Scott, June 2004

Welcome To Wherever I Am

Written May 21st, 2004 by Skinny Boy

I have no clue.

I wanted you to know this. If you already know me, you may already be well aware of this fact. If you don't know me, let's set this precedence. I have no clue as to what I am doing.

I should preface this by saying (as you probably already know) I have recently become single again. And the quick reaction is to say, "Ok. Who's to blame?" Because we all want to feel that there is someone at fault, that the blame lies with one specific person.

So, for at least convenience's sake, IT WAS ME. I don't say this for pity. I say this because I need to accept my mistakes. I made them. They are mine.

I also say this because, frankly, I'm 35-years-old and I've had another relationship fail. And, as I said earlier on March 1st (see "LOVE", below), I don't regret being in love, I regret the mistakes I made in love.

Let's move forward. To live is to learn, so they say. So I'm learning. You tell me. If you're reading this, then you MUST know me in some sense. And I'm serious: am I emotionally impaired? Am I some sort of relationship-challenged individual??? Because today I AM SURE OF IT.

Look, I don't regret being in love. I've loved some amazing people, and had some amazing people have love for me (you know who you are -- if you don't -- you just read this, then ask me and I WILL GLADLY tell you)

The simple fact is, we move on. We try on new shoes, and if they feel comfortable, we take them home. If they don't give us blisters, we keep wearing them (right, Beth? :) ).

-- Rich Rawson, wherever you are, get in touch with me. It's time. My partner in CCAB, you know me better than anyone -- you know that my dysfunctions fueled the CCAB lyrics I wrote. You know my demons -- we stared them down many nights -- I have not forgotten you. --

Look people, if you're reading this, you must know me well -- I love you, I love you all. Heaven forbid that something happens to one of us, and these words have not been said.

To Jim Beers -- brother, I was not there for you. Regardless of anyone else, you chose to leave this world without my love or support, and I'm a a shitty friend for it. But please, why? Why do you do it? Was your pain that strong? Help me fathom the loss, even after all this time.

---

Look, I know I will be OK in the end. I'll persevere. And to summarize, if you've been REALLY close to me in the last 5 years, chances are you've been in my grandmother's orchard for a party or two -- I MISS THAT. More than I can say. But if we were there now, I would tell you I love you, and miss you all...

Maybe someday -- everyone who reads this -- we will all meet in that same orchard -- around the same fire -- beers in hand...

And at that time I won't forget. I WILL TELL YOU.

I love you all, and miss you immensely.

Scott, May 2004

Vanity and the Pursuit of Happiness

Written April 28th, 2004 by Skinny Boy.

People suck.

Before you think, "Oh God, he's in that mood again... " -- wait. Hold on a sec. Let me say that I fall into that distinguished category too. So relax.

But, people suck. We do. Tonight I watched another episode of ABC's "Extreme Makeover" (if you don't know the show, sorry. I'm not explaining it for you.) In the first part of the show there was this 21-year-old auto mechanic.

This poor guy weighed about 125 pounds. He had "Dumbo" ears. He had severe acne. His teeth were some of the worst I have ever seen. He was also a virgin. In his life at that point he had only had one girlfriend, and apparently that had only lasted a few days.

But what made me feel badly for the guy was not all these obstacles that fate/nature had handed to him -- it was the fact he felt that, since in his mind he could have no bodily beauty, he could at least take old beat-up cars and make them look better.

Here is a guy with no self-confidence, low self-esteem, and very likely lonely and yearning for love. Yet he's trying to find his own little way to make something else look better. That's caring.

Sadly, I can think back to high school and picture kids that had similar stories. And yes, they got laughed at. Picked on. Made fun of. Scorned.

Did I join into this? Yes. Did you? Probably. But I also had these things happen to me -- did you? Were you ashamed or embarrassed by how you looked? Did you lack self-confidence? Did you feel like you didn't fit in?

I have rarely seen myself how other people see me. I often feel like I'm still trapped in my sixteen-year-old frame of mind. I sometimes focus on how I treat other people, just so I can't think about how they think of me.

Now, I do not say any of these things to make you feel sympathy (or worse, pity) for either myself, or the guy on the show. I've come a long way. I've found my self-confidence. And judging by how great this young guy looked when they were finished with him, so will he.

The reason for this whole thing is simple: when you find yourself looking at someone and thinking something negative (like "what a freak/geek/loser/weirdo/ugly..." You get it, right?) -- just stop. At least just once, put yourself in their shoes. Imagine what it could be like for them. The pain. The embarrassment. The self-doubt.

Would you want to feel like that?

Now, if you just can't bring yourself to even occasionally follow this simple example of the Golden Rule -- then you're just proving what I said earlier:

People Suck.

Think about it.

LOVE

Written March 1st, 2004 by Skinny Boy.

Have you ever been in love?

If you have, then good for you. If you have not, then I am sorry for you. As a matter-of-fact, studies have shown that people who are shy, who don't make much verbal or physical contact with others, have much higher concentrations of stress hormones. And those studies have also shown that long-term elevated stress hormones may shorten your life. Use this as an reason to live your life with love.

That sounded hokey, didn't it?. Too bad. See, I've had love: wonderful love, bad love, sad love -- I've had them all.

I've known the indescribable feeling of falling in love -- the giddiness you get when you think of her -- the longing you have to see her again -- to touch her again. I've known the pride you have when you think of her. The sorrow you have when you know you've made a mistake, or hurt her feelings. The joy you have when she says she loves you.

I've also known many aspects of losing love. I've known how it feels to have someone fall out of love with me (or for me to fall out of love with them). I've known how it feels to have someone cheat on me. I've known how it feels to love someone, but to want to get away from them, away from the pain and the frustration of a dying relationship.

I've known how it feels to break someone's heart. I've had mine broken as well.

I've known how it feels to watch her move on, to know she's with someone else.

I've known how it feels to make someone cry. I'm also not ashamed to say I've spent my fair share of time crying. I've embraced the emotion, I've let it out when I needed, not trying to hold back the tears, not afraid to moan and wail, not above lying in a dark corner in a fetal position -- holding myself as I'm rocking back and forth and my body is shuddering.

I'm also not afraid to tell you all about it.

So, as I said, I've known love. And I've lost love. We just keep moving on. I breathe in, I breathe out. Every day.

You may ask where all this is coming from. Tiffany and I recently broke up after almost 5 years together. Now, I won't go into it here. There's no sense in that. I will tell you that I loved her very much, and I am sad for it to have not worked out. I hope that eventually we can find a way to become friends again.

Still, I don't put this on here to gain sympathy. I don't care if you think it's in poor taste to display the dirty laundry for all to see.

I put this on here to say I hope that you all have known love. If you've had it and lost it, I hope you find it again. I hope that I do too. (And even though it's very hard right now to think about it, I hope Tif does as well)

Most of all, don't be afraid to try. Don't be afraid to love.

Reviewing

Written August 23rd, 2003 by Skinny Boy.

Tif and I went to the mall today, and she bought me the Fugazi DVD, "Instrument" at Barnes & Noble. While she was working the Saturday evening shift, I blew off an invitation to go be with friends and stayed at home to watch it.

If you're a Fugazi fan, you should buy it. If you're a fan of music, or of art, or of creativity, or of personal politics, you should watch it. "Instrument" reminded me of how much I used to love Fugazi, how their music moved me. They could be quite complicated at times, and -- like quite often in my life --sometimes it would take me a while to get it. Just an increible band, with incredible longevity and influence.

But this is not a call to comsumerism. I'm not trying to get you to go out and purchase this product as we did. The whole point of this entry is that I realized that the recurring theme for me for quite a while now is "reviewing". Like looking at old pictures. Listening to music I listened to a long time ago. Going home to PA. Reconnecting with people in my life.

I've been in Arizona now for two years now, and I think that for me, new surroundings, a new job, and a new place to live have caused me to try to recognize who I am now.

I've been thinking about how I've lost a lot of my creativity since I've been in AZ. I've also been thinking about how I've also toned down my personality. Sure, I am older now. But is that it?

And what do people see when they look at me?

My grandfather recently passed away. I wasn't close to him. He was an alcoholic for MANY years, and I remember being afraid of him when I was younger. Though in his last years he became sober, happier, and much more enjoyable to be around.

So, as I said, he passed away, and I flew home. When I got the news, Tif was more upset than I was. But as I said, we weren't close, and although I was sad to lose another grandfather, I was OK.

At the viewing, and then the funeral, I saw family members I hadn't seen in a while. Some I am close with, others not. And it seems that pattern will hold. We all reviewed our connections, and renewed where it came naturally.

It was good to go home and see old friends. It was good to review where I've been so I can see where I am now.

The Joy of Life

Written May 12th, 2000 by Skinny Boy.

I know, I know, you might be thinking "The Joy of Life? How schmaltzy is this guy getting now?". Well let me clue ya in.

The $9/hour job that I have requires me to drive an hour each way. Add that to a 9 or 10-hour day, and I've got up to 12 hours spent each day ON A JOB. This is not quality time. This is not relaxation. So say I get up @ 6:30am, get ready, leave @ 7:30, work until 7pm, and then drive home. If I'm home at 8pm I have 2 HOURS to eat, and spend some QT with my girlfriend. That is my day. I don't really enjoy it. The work is OK, the money's OK, but where is my life? Packing everything that's remotely enjoyable into two days (the weekend) can be stressful in itself.

"So what's your point?", you say. "Everyone has to work," you say. Well, yes. Money does help pay the bills. Money does help putting food on my table, clothes on my back, CD's in a nice stereo, good beer down my throat, etc. etc. But are we becoming slaves? Slaves to the status quo? Slaves to economy?

Now, we could sit here and discuss capitalism, materialism, consumerism, and all the other -'isms until it gets old like a Scream sequel (or a boy-band/teen sensation).

Let me tell you a little story. While I was driving home the other day, I heard the traffic report talking about all the highway accidents in our little rural area. I started thinking about how it could happen to me. How at any given moment when I'm driving 60-70 MPH on my dash to get home, someone could just slip a little, be careless, be daydreaming and --WHAM!!!. That's it. I'm no longer around. And my loved ones and friends may wonder, did he suffer? Did he know he was going to die?

The point is, my friends, is that I did know. I know it every day. We all know. We all know we're going to die. That's what life is. Dying. Moving towards your inescapable, inevitable DEATH. Sounds morbid, but that's not what I'm going for here.

Then I got home and told my girlfriend that if anything should ever happen to me, I wanted her to know that I loved her. The same goes for my family and friends. She was visibly moved, and then said "I've got something to show you."

She got up, went to her purse, pulled out a litle piece of paper, and handed it to me. It basically said the same thing I had just told her -- that if anything ever happened to her, she wanted me to know how she felt. It was chilling, and at the same time wonderful.

Let me share an email I got the other day. It read: "Stop And Smell The Roses.

"She was six years old when I first met her on the beach near where I live.... I drive to this beach, a distance of three or four miles, whenever the world begins to close in on me. She was building a sandcastle or something and looked up, her eyes as blue as the sea.

"Hello," she said. I answered with a nod, not really in the mood to bother with a small child.

"I'm building," she said. "I see that. What is it?" I asked, not caring.

"Oh, I don't know, I just like the feel of sand." That sounds good, I thought, and slipped off my shoes. A sandpiper glided by.

"That's a joy," the child said. "It's a what?" "It's a joy. My mama says sandpipers come to bring us joy."

The bird went gliding down the beach. "Good-bye joy," I muttered to myself, "hello pain," and turned to walk on. I was depressed; my life seemed completely out of balance.

"What's your name?" She wouldn't give up. "Robert," I answered. "I'm Robert Peterson." "Mine's Wendy... I'm six." "Hi, Wendy."

She giggled. "You're funny," she said. In spite of my gloom I laughed too and walked on. Her musical giggle followed me.

"Come again, Mr.. P," she called. "We'll have another happy day."

The days and weeks that followed belong to others: a group of unruly Boy Scouts, PTA meetings, an ailing mother. The sun was shining one morning as I took my hands out of the dishwater. "I need a sandpiper," I said to myself, gathering up my coat. The ever changing balm of the seashore awaited me.

The breeze was chilly, but I strode along, trying to recapture the serenity I needed. I had forgotten the child and was startled when she appeared. "Hello, Mr.. P," she said. "Do you want to play?" "What did you have in mind?" I asked, with a twinge of annoyance. "How about charades?" I asked sarcastically.

The tinkling laughter burst forth again. "I don't know what that is." "Then let's just walk." Looking at her, I noticed the delicate fairness of her face. "Where do you live?" I asked.

"Over there." She pointed toward a row of summer cottages. Strange, I thought, in winter. "Where do you go to school?" "I don't go to school. Mommy says we're on vacation." She chattered little girl talk as we strolled up the beach, but my mind was on other things. When I left for home, Wendy said it had been a happy day. Feeling surprisingly better, I smiled at her and agreed.

Three weeks later, I rushed to my beach in a state of near panic. I was in no mood to even greet Wendy. I thought I saw her mother on the porch and felt like demanding she keep her child at home. "Look, if you don't mind," I said crossly when Wendy caught up with me, "I'd rather be alone today."

She seemed unusually pale and out of breath. "Why?" she asked. I turned to her and shouted, "Because my mother died!" and I thought, why was I saying this to a little child?

"Oh," she said quietly, "then this is a bad day." "Yes," I said, "and yesterday and the day before and-oh, go away!"

"Did it hurt? " she inquired. "Did what hurt?" I was exasperated with her, with myself. "When she died?" "Of course it hurt!!!!" I snapped, misunderstanding, wrapped up in myself. I strode off.

A month or so after that, when I next went to the beach, she wasn't there.

Feeling guilty, ashamed and admitting to myself I missed her, I went up to the cottage after my walk and knocked at the door. A drawn looking young woman with honey colored hair opened the door. Hello," I said. "I'm Robert Peterson. I missed your little girl today and wondered where she was."

"Oh yes, Mr.. Peterson, please come in. Wendy spoke of you so much. I'm afraid I allowed her to bother you. If she was a nuisance, please, accept my apologies."

"Not at all-she's a delightful child," I said, suddenly realizing that I meant it. "Where is she?"

"Wendy died last week, Mr.. Peterson. She had leukemia. Maybe she didn't tell you." Struck dumb, I groped for a chair. My breath caught. "She loved this beach; so when she asked to come, we couldn't say no. She seemed so much better here and had a lot of what she called happy days. But the last few weeks, she declined rapidly..." her voice faltered.

"She left something for you ... if only I can find it. Could you wait a moment while I look?" I nodded stupidly, my mind racing for something, anything, to say to this lovely young woman. She handed me a smeared envelope, with "MR.. P" printed in bold, childish letters. Inside was a drawing in bright crayon hues, a yellow beach, a blue sea, and a brown bird. Underneath was carefully printed: A SANDPIPER TO BRING YOU JOY.

Tears welled up in my eyes, and a heart that had almost forgotten to love opened wide. I took Wendy's mother in my arms. "I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," I muttered over and over, and we wept together.

The precious little picture is framed now and hangs in my study. Six words - one for each year of her life - that speak to me of harmony, courage, undemanding love. A gift from a child with sea-blue eyes and hair the color of sand, who taught me the gift of love.

Well I hope you have a few Kleenex tissues left in that box. The above is a true story sent out by Robert Peterson. It serves as a reminder to all of us that we need to take time to enjoy living and life and each other.

"The price of hating other human beings is loving oneself less." Life is so complicated, the hustle and bustle of everyday traumas can make us lose focus about what is truly important or what is only a monetary setback or crisis. This week, be sure to give your loved ones an extra hug, and by all means,take a moment ... even if it is only ten seconds, and stop and smell the roses."

So maybe you got the point. The way I like to think of it is a line from the movie "Shawshank Redemption". It goes "Get busy livin', or get busy dyin'."

How do you live your life?

Relationships

Written September 7th, 1999 by Skinny Boy.

Hey, wow, it's September. Summer's over. So much has happened to me this year. I quit my $20,000 corporate job. Moved into the house I'd been working on for a year. Played volleyball every Tuesday and Thursday night until one night in April when I sprained my hand (punched a wall) AND sprained my ankle (landed on an opponent) in the same night. Played over 20 gigs (and went into the studio) with CCAB (my band).

But the most significant thing that happened to me is that I have a new love in my life. Her name is Tiffany. Now, everyone had always told me that you can't look for it. Love always just happens. Usually that person is right in front of you and you haven't figured it out yet. That was our case. We've been friends for years, and now we're just more.

The reason that I've decided to post this on the Internet so millions can read it (yeah right), is that I recently got an email from a woman I used to date.

Though we only lasted a couple months, the relationship was quite intense. We talked and laughed a LOT. She was the second woman I had dated that seemed to like me for what I was, not for what she thought I should be. But after awhile it became clear to me that she had strong feelings for me, yet I really didn't have the same. Believe me, I searched myself thoroughly for those feelings. I double-questioned every aspect of any emotion concerning her. I just didn't feel the same. And I didn't want to lead her on, and hope that those feelings would develop. I felt that it would be bullshit, facetious, a lie.

So I ended it. And spent more than a year wondering if I made the wrong decision. When you think about the great things you share with someone, you start thinking maybe that they would be enough. Maybe it's THE ONE and I just didn't know it.

The problem was, I did know it. And I moved on and applied the lessons I learned. I licked my wounds and wondered if I'd ever find that love again. And eventually, I did.

THE POINT: I had the faith in my heart that someday it would happen. That providence would bring me what I was looking for. Now, as sappy and cheesy as that sounds, I FIRMLY believe that men and women of the world need to carry on the doggedly romantic notion that there's someone for everyone -- not just Mr. or Ms. Right Now. There are far too many abusive, dysfunctional, STUPID relationships between men and woman that do nothing but cause short-term pain and suffering. And then long-term scars and baggage. Especially if there are children involved.

So I say screw all the macho posturing and right-wing feminist rules. Men and women NEED EACH OTHER to co-exist on this planet. And we should stop making such a stinking mess of it. That shit you see on Jerry Springer is a joke. I hope it's all staged for entertainment purposes. Cause if that's what America thinks relationships should be, this country is in a lot of fucking trouble. If your children think that shit is normal, then YOU HAVE FAILED THEM.

Whew! Now, if I've learned anything at all, it's that communication is the key. I am now in an incredibly great relationship with my girlfriend. We talk a lot. We laugh a lot. She lets me be a TOTAL idiot. And I love her.

I know it won't always be roses. But there's no way in hell that I'd do any of the stupid things I see on Jerry Springer. I have too much respect for her -- and myself -- for that.

Do you?

New Years Absolution...er, Resolutions

Written January 6th, 1999, by Skinny Boy.

So it must be the sentimentality of the season, coupled with the supposed "fresh start" feeling that comes with the first day of a New Year. That must be it. Why else would we all decide that we're going to change en masse? Why else would we be wearing that "today I'm going to become a better person" holster slung low around our waists like some New Age cowboy, ready to shoot holes in the body of what we've become?

It's gotta be the sentiment. Because the reality is that six months from now, the furthest thing from our minds is the resolutions we made on New Years. Happens to us every year�so much that you'd think we'd learn, and all become the people we wish we were.

Today I'm Going to Change.

I'd really like to say that I woke up this morning at the crack of dawn, the birds were singing, and I had the clarity of thought that only a double expresso can bring. That right then and there I decided on how to Become a Better Person.
But that's never how it works for me. Usually I wake up at 11am, disgusted with myself for spending yet another New Years Eve alone (alone as in without a significant other, you know, the one you make your little resolutions with as you giggle over champagne�knowing that you'll make love later... Wait. That's a whole other issue. Let's not go into that here.)
So anyway� I wake up, usually hung-over, trying to remember who I have to apologize to for last night. Or how much I made an ass out of myself. Or, in one instance, wondering who's going to help me get my car out of that ditch, hoping that the cops won't be involved.
Then throughout the course of the day, I begin thinking of all the things I'm going to change. You call them resolutions. I call them wishful thinking. See if any of these sound familiar:

Call every one of my friends, past and present, and wish them a Happy New Year. This of course will make up for all the times I didn't call, the birthdays I forgot, the Christmas cards I didn't send and the presents I didn't buy.
Make a plan to apologize to everyone that I've done wrong to, regardless of whether they know it or not. Now, this sounds noble, but (for the most part) it's really not. It's often about some really nasty doings, with some potentially damaging results (mostly to me physically). Meaning I'm going to tell so-and-so how I kissed his girlfriend. Tell so-and-so how I didn't tell her all those bad things I said to her face, but behind her back. And tell so-and-so how I didn't have the balls to talk to her directly and honestly about her feelings for me, instead ignoring the whole situation and hoping that it would suffice. And on and on. There's more, but I shouldn't put it all in here, should I? People might actually find out some of these terrible things I've done. And we can't have that.
Here's a common one, which really is a sad thing to say: Make a plan to start going to the gym regularly, and get the body I've always wanted. Tsk tsk.

Along with the above, I always make a plan to stop drinking (as much)...
...And to eat better.
To read more. To read novels. The classics. Everything. I'm going to read it all, dammit, and no one is going to call ME "brainy", or a nerd, or a bookworm. Because with my new muscular physique and winning, confident personality, everyone is going to LOVE me...if not, I'll just kick their ass.
To be more honest, straightforward, open, direct (insert your own positive word here___________.)
Become a better dresser, but yet remain true to myself and my style. Which always brings me back around to my constant struggle (that most guys don't give a shit about�at least not vocally): I don't know what the hell to wear.

There's more I'm sure. There has got to be. This is too small a list for me. What commonly happens is that I'll think of another one, but it'll only register briefly and be outta there like a one-night-stand. That's how most of my brilliant thoughts and ideas work.

"Nothing Changes On New Years Day."

So this New Years Day. I got around a little later than normal. I stayed in bed until 1PM, watching some Jennifer Aniston movie and nursing a cold. No hang-over though, I didn't drink last night. I was responsible and did the DD thing. That is, until I lost a contact lens and had to resort to using a dried-out spare lens in my glovebox. Which burned like nobody's business, prompting me to leave my passenger at the bar and drive my sorry, lonely, sober, eye-burning ass home early. So there. Now aren't I a good boy? I didn't put my car in another ditch, or kill someone in a drunk-driving accident. Put a star on my a paper, I'm a relative Boy Scout.
After I ate a bowl of Raisin Bran, took a shower, and shaved my three-day stubble into a goatee (few a New Look), I began calling friends and wishing them a Happy New Year. Most of them weren't home, so I have yet to tell them what a DICK I've been.

Buy hey, it's a start. Six months from now it will all be forgotten.

There's always next year...

Hello Cleveland! Rock & Roll!!

Written a long time ago by Skinny Boy.

For those who don't know me, I'm the smart, charming, handsome, and sarcastic editor of this here 'lil webpage. Since you're taking the time to read this far, give me a moment to run-off-at-the-mouth (and do a little shameless self-promotional plug for my band):

I sing in a band called CCAB (Clean Cut American Boys), and we just went in the studio and did rough drafts on a demo. Now, if you've never been in a band, you don't know what it's like. So let me give you a few key notes.

First off, don't do it for the money. Unless you're a cover band who can do a decent job, you're just going to be a bar band. And being a bar band does have its merits, but it gets old real fast. If you're going the bar-band, cover tune route, make sure you're having fun. Throw in some of your own personality. Because folks can smell the difference. If you're up there just playin' the notes, they're gonna know. And chances are they aren't gonna put much into it. They might get drunk regardless, but the fun level all depends on you.

OK. Now that we've mentioned fun, let's just say you're not going to be a cover/bar-band. You're going to try to rise above the wading pool and try to write some originals like the big kids. Good for you.
Again, don't do it for the money. Chances are, unless you're an incredible songwriter (or singer, or guitarist)� or have a great chemistry with your bandmates, your music won't be that awe-inspiring. Now, I'm not making a sweeping statement that all new bands/artists suck. The odds support that all by themselves. I'm just saying that you better believe in your music, and you damn well better enjoy playing it (even if you're a Goth or Death Metal maniac or shoegazer or "everything sucks" folkie or "cryin' in your beer" country twanger� try smiling.) If you can't muster up some exuberance, than neither will anyone else.
- You'll have a hard time getting gigs. Everyone usually does. Its who you know.
- You'll have an even harder time getting paid. So don't count on it.
- And unless you are really good, or really outgoing, you'll have a hard time building up a fan base.

Now right about now, you must be thinking, "Who the hell is this guy?", or "Christ, why even try then if it's that hard?", or maybe even just "What an asshole!". OK. This is all good. Cuz I'm nobody. But I'm doing it (or at least trying to). And yeah, I can be an asshole. Can't you?
But at least I got you to think. And that, my musical friend, is all I was trying to accomplish. I've seen bands come and go. That ones that stayed with me the most were the ones who � if only for a short time - put some passion into it.

Tolerance

Black or white?
Hey, I like vanilla, I like chocolate.
Does that make me Neapolitan? What the hell does that mean?

Individuality is not a curse.So what is going on, people? I just don't get it.
Should I turn my head at the sight of shade?
Should I hate what I simply don't understand?

Don't get me wrong -- I've got my prejudices. I'm not perfect. But people are people and that goes deeper than color.

Black or white? Hell, maybe it's gray.
I like salt, I like pepper. I like horseradish too.
I don't like brussel sprouts, but I don't condemn those who do.
So just slap your stupid label on me. I'll wear it like a scarlet letter of shame.

It seems that there's no equality in this country.
Even those who stood behind the statement 'All men are created equal,' had slaves to do work that they thought was unfit for a white man.
Nope, in the grand ol' United States of America we've got classification:
Race, religion, rich and poor. Republicans, rappers, the homeless.
Gays, heteros, blue-collar, and (oh no) country music fans.
Will the horror never cease?

All I'd like to see is a little more tolerance. Is that too much to ask for in these days of instant gratification? Does it really have to be "screw them before they screw you"?
Some understanding and caring also couldn't hurt.
Sure, we'll all got our differences. Despite our views, tastes, class, creed, or sexual preference -- aren't we all the same human race?

Oh, I'm being one of those preachy middle-class white liberals, aren't I?

Like what I have to say? Think I'm a total loser? Eat broccoli? Tell me about it.
Sign The Skinny Boy online Guestbook!
Do it now! Please!

To see all the cool people who were kind enough to sign my guestbook, click here.

Reviews

Links

About Me

Poetry

[email protected]

Hosted by www.Geocities.ws