Insomnia Reaches a Jersey Shore Low

Tonight I couldn't sleep. My mind was racing with all the details of life that I must sort out and file in the mental compartments that will facilitate a future night's sleep. After giving up on the sorting and filing of my mental factions I did the unthinkable....

I watched "The Jersey Shore."

In my life I have made many, if not thousands of mistakes, epic ones even. None of these mistakes do I regret. To make my point a bit better I'll list of few of my epic mistakes that I do not regret: Getting married and then divorced by the time I was 20 years old, moving to Los Angeles, skipping out on numerous apartments across the country because I "felt like it that day." Chasing/stalking an Elvis impersonator with a mullet and a fake guitar only to find out that he was a cocaine addicted Elvis impersonator with a mullet and a fake guitar. Getting way in over my head with someone that ended up being married with a child. Driving a 1982 Ford LTD in a no-visibility thunderstorm with no windshield wipers which eventually manifested in me hitting something in the road and snapping the axles on the car which in-turn sent me sailing with all 4 wheels going off into different directions on I-75, coming to a stop with flames shooting out of the engine by hitting a payphone at a 7-Eleven... I had all my families photo albums in the trunk. I checked into a hotel and from the window of my hotel room I watched them tow away my car...FOREVER.

I say all of THAT to say this....

I don't regret any of that. What I do regret is watching ONE episode of "The Jersey Shore."

I'll never get back the time I lost watching the dumbest people on the dumbest show IN THE WORLD.

If you haven't watched this show, you are a f*&ing genius. I am a mouth breathing retard apparently because I partook of the tree of the knowledge of good & evil. Now I know too much about what is wrong with wearing only Ed Hardy clothes and slathering 40 solid pounds of L.A. Looks hair gel on a blunt kitchen scissored haircut resembling an upside down mushroom cloud...

They all suck so hard.

I watched a total of 15 arguments that all stemmed from one of the shirtless retards saying something along the lines of, "Hey Sitch was rappin' 'bout how Jennifah' is fake but your like a bruthah to me so'z I jus' wanna know who is jumpin' in da' jacuzzi!!!"

At this point a strange argument would break out into full blown Juicy Couture sweatpant wearin' hater walk off w/finger waving & hair tossing, yelling, and bizarre insults like, "I can't look you in da' face cause your tan is wearin' off and shinin' on my snapdoodle."

I know it's a tired subject, I realize this. South Park actually did the best job at "nailing" it in an episode entitled, "It's a Jersey Thing." If you haven't seen this episode, you must.

It's now 6:45am and I haven't slept yet.

I could say so much more but I'm getting tired and I'm disappointed in myself for watching that show. There's only one thing I hate more than The Jersey Shore and that would be where it is filmed at(not in Jersey)... Miami, Florida. You combine those 2 things and you wouldn't equal the DNA components you needed to make a retarded bucktoothed parakeet.

On that note... I'm tired.

Going to sleep now.

Chewin' on Life Jerky

Gettin' back in the habit of writing my infamous blogs again hasn't been the easiest pattern to revive. I wish I could call it writer's block but it's far deeper than that. The past year I've been living on a circus train. At the age of 32, I decided to join The Greatest Show on Earth, Ringling Bros. & Barnum and Bailey Circus. I won't launch into that but can I just say for the record that I'm not surprised by my lack of determination to write about any of my circus adventures.

Back to basics now... Life Jerky is what I call it. You really have to commit to chewing on the hard salty parts of that jerky in order to fully understand why you are eating it in the first place.

Shall we begin chewing?

Recently I had dinner with a long time friend and we began discussing how we are regressing in age. I'm in my early 30's and I feel like I'm in the 4th grade. In no way am I protesting this regression. It's fabulous. I have life stuff I really need to handle but I'm totally unmotivated to handle to more grown up aspects of living. I've never cared for details that most normal people worry about. I figure I'll get after it sooner or later.

At this very moment I have a broken foot. To the naked eye it doesn't appear to be broken but according to X-Ray films, it is unmistakable. It's broken. I had to leave my circus life a bit earlier than I'd planned on because of this broken foot thing. As I sit in my house watching television and waiting for workman's compensation checks, I am forced to think about what it all means.

I've always believed that if life events seem to consistently go against the grain then maybe it's best to recalculate the compass and march ahead in the direction that isn't trying to kill you.

It is however, a delicate balance of knowing how much resistance you are supposed to have verses the lethal dose. Nothing about my situation now is making much sense in either direction. It is as though I've been in a vortex for a year and don't know which way is out.

This all became apparent to me when my best friend said something about Conan O'Brien's new show. I had NO idea what she was talking about. She said to me, "Dude, are you living under a rock?" Two thoughts entered my head at this moment.

1. No. I'm living on a circus train.

2. I used to say the same thing to people who I had deemed as being "out of the loop" about social events...and I thought they were really stupid for not knowing information that is plastered on all known media.

I realize this is a small example but sometimes processing something small can be a bread crumb trail out of the Ignorant Shire.

This same person has made me laugh really hard by something she said to me on the phone in the last month when I would vent my frustration over my life on a circus train... "Train people have no god."

I don't know, it makes me laugh.

I have so much stuff to get done that would increase my quality of life right now but when I think about doing those things, I feel like hiding in the shed in the backyard. Perhaps I'll do that very thing. I hear it's nice in there this time of year; quiet, dark, musky, full of spiders... not unlike my train room really!

My brother just walked in and looked at me and said the following in an excited way, "What's a' goin' on Melodious Funk?" I stared at him for 10 seconds and said, "nothing." He walked away and said, "I got corndogs?" I have to admit that I became restless by this thought and now will go into the kitchen and eat the dog of corn.

More later from the inside of my mind.

It's April 4th, Easter Sunday. I'm in Washington, D.C. I've been out of commission for about 7 weeks with a busted hip. I'm in the circus so it stands to reason that if you have a sub-standard hip then you can't really be awesome.

Life for me as of late has been something of a Tale of Torment. I sit on a train most of the day and when I'm not at the train I'm at physical therapy. When I'm not doing those two things I'm sleeping or sulking.

I have never had an injury that I couldn't "walk out." Until now. My day to day stuff is about as interesting as staring blankly at a brown wall and trying to see when it will become a new car. It isn't going to become a new car but at least you have something to think about? Bad analogy I know, but I'm sure you get it.

I jokingly tell people that I've lost my mind but this is really not a joke. I think I may have. I've had thoughts about stuff that most people wouldn't dare to think because they'd get a migraine. My favorite thing(not) is being asked repeatedly how my "foot is doing" because it's not my foot and I've already told the "story of the busted hip" to them 100 times or more. I'm going to start saying, "Oh my foot? Yeah it's being replaced with a horse hoof and that's why it's taking so long for me to get back in the show."

Bitterness may be oozing from the screen but I assure you that I'm way past being bitter. I'm now in the zone of tarnished foil in the mouth.

Below is a list of things I've done in the last 7 weeks:

1. Watched "Nacho Libre" about 200 times because it makes me feel good.

2. Watched the special features of "Iron Man," about the same amount of times as item #1.

3. Cleaning my room- all-the-time.

4. Wrote 4 songs that I ended up throwing in the 'Recycle Bin' so that I could rewrite them for fun.

5. Edited 2000 photographs that I'll never look at again because to do so would land me further in the pit of ultimate darkness.

6. Made desperate attempts at communicating with friends at all times of the day, every day. So much so that I'm pretty sure they are figuring out ways to block my number.

7. I've texted more than any human on planet earth.

8. I've watched every video on YouTube ever posted.

9. I've eaten everything that a person can eat without someone calling a talk show to report, "Hoarding Intervention."

10. I've thought about how to successfully make a hover board a la "Back to the Future." (pretty sure I've got a solid blueprint going on)

11. Reached levels of rage that I didn't know I had the emotional capacity to reach.

12. Performed home surgery on strange rashes I received due to crutches being my modus operandi.

13. Cut my hair with blunt kitchen scissors.

14. Created a "hit list" of people who piss me off on any given day- rated each one based on a system I created using a form of calculus.

15. Started writing this blog.

You know those people who become crazy conspiracy theorist? I know how they mutated into that mentality. They were injured and left in solitude on a circus train for 7 weeks. That's how.

Paranoia knows no bounds when you are left alone for too long.

I've started collecting rocks from the various train yards that's I've been stuck in. I do this because it's something to do.

I've started to notice different stain formations on the vestibule steps. I ponder what caused them and if they are toxic.

I've had the same conversations with the same people at least 2000 times and each time I can't wait to do it all over again... it's something to do.

I've noticed the hex-bolts that hold together the vestibule doors are chipped and probably on the next train run to the next city I'll be smoking when the doors will fall off and I'll fly away... fah' fah' away.

I've figured out how to make chocolate kettle corn out of Sweet n' Low, Mexican Cocoa and a microwave that doesn't work efficiently.

I've consistently been perplexed by how when I pour a glass of water from the tap I can't see through the glass. Water is clear right? This has led to my secondary theory of how I received the worst stomach virus of 2010 about 1 month prior to my busted hip injury. I've done numerous experiments on this water. I've let a glass of it sit overnight only to find upon waking a sediment of green and a beautiful jade powdery substance at the bottom of the glass.

These are the things I do. I'm busy aren't I?

Stay tuned for more magnifique' events.

-Elusive Injured Clown