No Touch Monkey!

Because the future is cool.

There is a Brazilian man in our social circle who wants Alessandra. He's as good looking as Rodrigo Santoro


(but not him b/c he's cool)

and a very snappy dresser standing a full head taller than me. He is standing inside my front door and he's here to take her away from me.

"Not gonna to happen. Now leave." I tell him.

The gestalt is that he's a fighter and "woman beater" and we all know he beat the mother of his child by actually hitting her with the child. Alessandra is not going to leave him for me.

There is amused tolerance coming from him. "What are you going to do about it little man?"

Anything I have to. I am keyed up! It's going to go down. I am trembling in anticipation. It's going to hurt.

"The first thing I'm going to do is wreck your 'junk', and I point to his crotch.

Do Machos fight dirty? I'm going to go down kicking and biting. I tell my self.

He gives me a look of disgust but leaves.

He starts stalking us.

He finds a church that has a Brazilian congregation and he approaches Alessandra while she is at the mall with her friend, trying to play on her guilt and get her to church away from me. He fails.

I'm playing pool at some sort of pub. He is there heckling me. At some point he flashes a gun. Again we hear that he beat his baby momma with a baby. He's in my personal space fucking up my shots.

I consider a restraining order, but he's diplomatically immune.

I have a plan, I don't know if it's legal but I acquire one anyway.

A spring loaded baton:



I find the guy in the pool room, whip it out and start whaling on his legs beginning at the knee. It has a weighted tip and you can bet it hurts.

This part of the dream isn't nearly as intense as the initial standoff, and I take a few shots at his head. I see him as bruised and bloodied. A message has been sent: Stay the fuck away.

Then the dream shifts to some Harry Potterish bullshit shortly before I wake up.

Labels: Things and Stuff

Hanging out with my friends on Saturday, my friend Kevin tells me that he noticed that several of his friends are also friending up with my estranged (9 years this Summer of not speaking) stepbrother Mark on Facebook. I went to check out his profile but it was locked.

Sunday there is a friend request from Mark in my email. Now did I accidentally request to be friends with him or was it just an odd coincidence? Don't know, don't care. There it is in front of me. Oddly enough though, I've lately been reflecting on the number 9, but that's an aside.

9 years ago Mark backed out as Best Man for my wedding while backing up his mother's claim that I'm literally a bastard child. Ouch!

Just over a year ago I dodged an encounter with him at a Rush show.

He has two kids and a wife and lives in a fairly wealthy part of the STL County.

What do you say when you read: "It's been too long. Lets get together and catch up."

This was my response:

Right now my heart says "yes" and my heart says "no".

Unfortunately things were said regarding my parentage a few years ago that can't be unsaid. I could likely disregard this, but there is still the spectre Millicent hovering around and the memory of her shoving Alessandra out the door and raging over a birthday cake while shrieking what a terrible son I was kind of bothers me. I still have the answering machine tape where she tells me that I'm a bastard son.

While hindsight shows that I was indeed young douchebag, it comes to my attention that I was doing the best I could with the complete lack of tools at my disposal. I have to work really hard to pick out good family memories. The result of which has left me very emotionally distant from nearly all of my family (immediate and in-laws).

The bottom line is that for all my faults and the responsibility I'm willing to take for messing up the family, at this time I can't disconnect you from Millicent, and I am very happy being disconnected from her.

BUT, when I say my heart says "yes" I'm not willing to close the door. I hear nice things about you both from time to time from people you know. I greatly appreciate the outreach, and I'm certainly willing to chat back and forth via facebook, but I don't think a get together is possible for the time being.

Like I said the door isn't closed, and I'm pass along our photo website, so you can see what we've been up to the past few years.

So far there has been no response.

I told my sister and she went apeshit because our step mother promising but not delivering us each $10,000 before she managed to drive us off from that part of our family.

Believe it or not the issue is not about money. That same year my mother's sister jerked me out of $30,000, and I still talk to her from time to time. Jesus 40,000 fucking dollars. That's where the title of the post comes from. I don't hold that grudge, but it still stings when I think about it. It's about something deeper that has no name. A lifetime of Familial longing and Rejection and in the end, it's me doing the rejecting to nearly all my family because I'm sick of being hurt.

Anyway, that's the story. Like Life, there is no clean ending here. Just another post in a long line of posts.

Labels: personal

Originally uploaded by WurzelStock™

From time to time I remember that one day I'm going to die. In one of his books, Carlos Castaneda talks about letting Death be a passenger on your left shoulder as a reminder that Death is your constant companion.
And that you want to live as if this were the last day of your life, because you never know. It just might be.

I've always liked that phrase, because it's good in spirit but awful in practice. The image that always comes to me is one of saying "Fuck You" to The Man, "I'm going to play today!" And if every day may be the last day of your life, then everyday you are going to run off and join the Lotus Eaters. How will you get anything done like earning an income or even washing your filthy clothes?

So of course this little image completely resonates with me. The funny part is, as an adult, I CAN have ice cream for breakfast. Now I just have to figure out what to do with the other last days of my life.

Dear 1600,
Today I traveled 40 miles on a contraption called a bicycle. I traveled at an average of 17 miles an hour and traveled a circuit of 10+ villages in town in far less than a day. This bicycle was fabricated in China (what you would call "The Orient")

The reason for this is because I wanted to keep my health up. I am 41 years old, and lived only half of my life expectancy! I'm sorry, but your people would be very old or dead by now.

Did you know I have all of my original teeth?



While I was traveling through the hamlets of my city, I stopped at two markets. I know you are becoming familiar with the concept of trade. So at the market, I bought a bread from the country of Brazil. How, you may wonder, can I eat a bread from thousands of miles away and still have it be fresh? Easy. it is "instant" meaning that it is in a powdered form that only needs water and gets to produce a dough to be baked fresh.

At another market in another town 20 miles from the previous one. I purchased pancakes in a can. "What madness is this?" You will certainly ask. But let me tell you. In a world of suffering and pain, where poverty and war still exist. You can go to the market and purchase pancakes that can be made instantly. This, I tell you, will be the salvation of our world. Batter Blasters!

Both of these purchases were paid for with invisible gold, yet know Gods or Demons were involved. Many of us here in the 2000s have a stash of invisible, intangible gold. Its a system based on trust. We work for someone called "The Man"and he rewards us for our labor with invisible gold which we trust resides in caves scattered throughout the world. Then we can transfer the invisible gold from our caves to the caves of the merchants.



Then I put it in my pockets and cycled back home.

I only problem I have, 1600, is finishing this missive. Let me just say that these words are written by light and actually don't exist anywhere in the solid world. POW!

A scene:

Late Spring 1985 on an overcast day. For some reason, at the very end of my Senior year I decided to run on the track team. I have no idea what inspired me to do so, perhaps it was a last vestige of School Spirit that hadn't been beaten out of me by the system, or me wanting a free sweatshirt. But I joined the track team.

But what event? I knew as much about track as I knew about every other sport...nothing. I always liked jumping so I became a hurdler.

Thing is...I'm slow, very slow. Because I was so obviously slow it was clear I would never win a heat, so I didn't have a coach by my side encouraging me or telling me how to run the hurdles. Did you know you had count your steps and have a hurdling pace? I didn't until someone on the team finally told me. So I did my best to count my steps as I ran the hurdles.

Back to that late spring day: I am at the Rich Kids school in the Rich Burbs, and I am going to run in a heat. The last heat for the 300 hurdles. That is 3/4 of the track.

It's just me and another guy, all the best guys having gone first.

On your mark

Get Set

GO!

The gun goes off and I am finally racing someone for the first time. Immediately I lose count of my steps. My pacing is way off and I look like a cow jumping over the moon as I huff and puff my way around the track.

Is the crowd cheering? Are they laughing? I have no idea. I am running and lurching, running and lurching.

I get to the end, totally spent and discovered that I won my heat!

Of the two heats I ran that Spring against other teams, that was the only one I won.

The second heat cost me a possible date because I was so slow, but I don't have evidence to back that up. Only a memory of an interested girl who seemed to lose interest along with my race.

But hey, I got a cool sweat shirt (which I stole because it was part of the uniform and not free after all) and shin splints out of the deal along with a Letter for a letter jacket I would never buy and promptly lost.

When I watch the Olympics, this is what I am reminded of.

Labels: The Cap'n

See Dick & Jane. See Dick find the idol. See the idol, the idol loves jam. And so it goes:



via FilmDrunk.com

Labels: Worth your time

MMM-Pie reads the license plate of Ben the Groom. So for fun Alessandra knitted him a pie for his wedding. How cool is that!


My gorgeous wife shows off her handiwork. Which one is real?


A close up of the meringue handiwork!


The pie comes equipped with straps so you can slide your hand in then smash someone in the face with it. Here I am smacking my friend Dr. Lily Munster in the face.

Line for praising the awesomeness of the pie/hotness of the wife forms in the comments below.

Labels: cool, knitting., Wife

Me enjoying a wedding reception this weekend. Really, when I'm around people, I don't know, I tend to act up.

Labels: The Cap'n

Labels: video

They were among 40 or so people who were tasting under the influence of a small red berry called miracle fruit at a rooftop party in Long Island City, Queens, last Friday night. The berry rewires the way the palate perceives sour flavors for an hour or so, rendering lemons as sweet as candy.

The host was Franz Aliquo, 32, a lawyer who styles himself Supreme Commander (Supreme for short) when he's presiding over what he calls "flavor tripping parties." Mr. Aliquo greeted new arrivals and took their $15 entrance fees. In return, he handed each one a single berry from his jacket pocket.

"You pop it in your mouth and scrape the pulp off the seed, swirl it around and hold it in your mouth for about a minute," he said. "Then you're ready to go." He ushered his guests to a table piled with citrus wedges, cheeses, Brussels sprouts, mustard, vinegars, pickles, dark beers, strawberries and cheap tequila, which Mr. Aliquo promised would now taste like top-shelf Patron.

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Labels: cool

I spotted this at Walgreens.com. Over the last few months, they've actually locked the condoms down. You have to ask someone to come and release them from the shelf for you. Of all the items who would best be shoplifted, this is one. Anyway, you still have to ask someone to come and unlock them for you.

When all is said and done though. I want someone to know I'm getting laid. Except for my mom. She knows I do, and vice versa...we just don't want to hear about it.

We don't have a clock in the bedroom, but the tv is set up to turn on in the morning to wake us up. And blearily thinking one morning this is what I came up with.

All Morning Local News with that one loud, energetic "on-location" guy/girl whom I really want to smack > hot pokers in the eye > Morning Zoo Radio Programs > a surprise anal raping > The Today Show.

This reminded me that I already had another list going in my head that needed to see the light of day.

Things People do to entertain me:

George Carlin, Bill Hicks > Cirque de Soleil > Penn & Teller > Colbert Report > Daily Show > Strangers w/ Candy > Upright Citizen's Brigade > Stomp & other Dance Performances > Mad Tv > Stage Magicians > All other stand up Comedians > Ventriloquists > Mimes > Morning Zoo Radio Shows >Saturday Night Live

Labels: Nothing to see here folks-move along

I love email surprises, and while I knew it was coming, the donation from Bsti and Niqkita Natosi of

Sock Dreams

~ unique sexy comfy socks for unique sexy people, was extremely generous.

The amazing part is that I have known Bsti as an on-line friend for years, but have yet to actually meet him in person. If I could, I would travel to Portland just to give them both a hug and hang out for a while.

The same goes for Spinning Girl, who also chipped in with a fat donation irregardless of having actually met me to receive a hug for her hard-earned teacher cash.

This is not to say that big donations = big accolades (though it does get an unsolicited advertising post here at NTM!). The Beautiful Kind - Ramblings of an Expert Slut and Nympho Sex Goddess also donated a modest-sized, but BIG on heart (shaped box), check to the cause. I know with certainty that she's on a tight budget and my heart swelled when I saw the email confirmation this past weekend.

So there you go. What started as a straight advertising post for Sock Dreams, turned into a post on the value of internet friendships. I don't get emotional very often about such things, but my heart is extremely mushy with gratitude at the moment.



Thank you kind near strangers for supporting me and making me look good to the National MS Society...because we all know, image is everything.

Labels: Rock On, The Cap'n

I just got back from working my Company's big convention this weekend and when all is said and done, I got off easy. I was scheduled to work Tuesday-Sunday, because I'm salary, but my hourly apprentice wanted to put the time in and make some extra cash. As it was I was totally unable to get out of working the big show, 12hrs on Fri, 12 on Sat.

I had pledged vocally to my boss that I was going to arrive then blend into the crowd and vanish like a ninja, I so didn't want to work, but when I got there, I was given probably the easiest task around. Floater: i.e. Stand somewhere and point people to their assigned seating 1.5 hours before the morning session, 1.5 hour before the afternoon session. Pretty much just paid hanging around.

Many of my fellow coworkers who work in the call center are very young, and as a result, don't have a lot of character in their faces. So if I stood around with them, invariably I would attract more questions and conventioneers than they. This was no problem because I really enjoy helping people.

As a result I ended up being some sort of, for want of a better word, a floor boss and I began directing other seaters and sign carriers around, eventually getting a key to the "sign room" by the real Floor Bosses and being a sign repair dude, calling shots.

It was odd, but pleasant. I'm not used to just falling into responsibility, but I noticed that all of my coworkers began doing things for me if I sounded like I knew what I was doing!

Let it be known that the convention is a vehicle to hype up the troops to go out and sell, sell, sell. The centerpiece of the big show was a 139' Statue of Liberty, only 20 feet shorter than the real deal, limited by the roof of the Dome.

Different Realities

It was clear from the outset that the world I inhabit and the one the conventioneers, speakers and owners inhabit are the same stage showing different plays.

I'm going to dance the fine line here. The Multi-Level Marketing mentality is not for me. Nor is the Inspirational, Sales and Success lifestyle. It's a worldview that kind of creeps me out, even if it pays my salary. The people I've met have been very nice, and they appear sincere in their desire to achieve their success through helping other people get what they want out of life, but I instinctively turn away from people who first praise God for their success, "Nobody can take away what God has given me and this company." or "Choose Faith instead of Fear". This January, the man founder and figurehead is going to start a mentoring program to produce, "10,000" millionares". Me, I'll be working to make the product website much friendlier and easier to use. I just have neither the faith nor the drive to "fire my boss," and "Not analyze it but just go out [and sell] day in and day out, because I was "born to live a life of excellence." Sorry. I'll be more than happy to work behind the scenes and help you do it, it's just not my bag.

So, I spent most of the time sitting on plastic box in the back of the room with another woman, drawing people and things.. Every time either of us would find a chair we would end up giving it to a handicapped guest, and back to the Good Ole Blue Box we went.



Occasionally I would be called upon to push someone in a wheel chair or ask someone to stop recording video, but it was very stress free.

Before the last session yesterday, a woman told me she had seen both guy selling bootleg t-shirts and someone else pushing a competing business. I told her I was "just a pion" but I would go and alert one of the floor bosses immediately. She lightly smacked me in head: "Haven't listened to a word this weekend? You are valued. You HAVE value."

Me: "Um, no. I've been drawing all weekend." I show her my sketchbook. "But it's just a figure of speech. I don't really think I'm a pion. I have the key to the sign room. But I will take care of it right away." And so I did. Take that bootleg t-shirt huckster! I narced you out.



Later during that last session, one for the speakers was a former pro-football player, and he spoke in sports metaphor as well as actually giving some sort of play by play description of when he was playing The Greenbay Packers in the the 70's. I took that time to nap, temporarily away from blue box.

Another amusing anecdote from Friday: During the the opening session, a bald eagle was supposed to fly down to the stage and land on the bird wrangler's hand. But the bird got lost in the dark and hung out in the rafters for a while until they were able to talk her down.

Here is a picture of me with the eagle. Let it be said that I am not unpatriotic. I now have both a flag and an eagle to prove it.



At the time of the photo I am thinking: "Don'tpeckmyeyes,Don'tpeckmyeyes,Don'tpeckmyeyes, Yay America!

Labels: The Cap'n, work

Two days ago Cybil, the car Ale's Cynthia gave us, crapped out the other day right before I turned into the parking lot at my office. Luckily I had the momentum to cruise in to my parking spot as the smoke started to rise from the engine...After the long tow back to STL, it was revealed that I had a cracked head gasket. Today I was told the cylinder head was warped from heat and that it would be more economical to replace the engine.

Yikes! So Ale and I have to car pool now and I have to travel an additional 18 miles each way to pick her up and drop her off.

Then this morning, my Backup drive catastrophically crashed talking all my stuff with it. I find this odd because I run 3 computers constantly, and have for years and none of those drives have crashed, but this one, which I've only had for a year went belly up.

Luckily, we have a backup for our back up at Alessandra's office, and our first one is under warranty. All my other lost files are replaceable, it's just an inconvenience.

Grrr.

Oh yeah, the company I work for was just sued for 25 Million Dollars. So, I hope I get to keep my job. BTW. I'm not at liberty to discuss this, even if I actually knew anything (which I don't). So if you comment on it, please don't use the name of my company because Legal is always on the search for key words. Thanks

Labels: The Cap'n

The Play England study quotes a number of play providers who highlight the benefits to children of taking risks. 'Risk-taking increases the resilience of children,' said one. 'It helps them make judgments,' said another. Some of those interviewed blamed the 'cotton wool' culture for the fact that today's children were playing it too safe, while others pointed to a lack of equipment or too much concrete in place of grass. The research also lists examples of risky play that should be encouraged including fire-building, den-making, watersports, paintballing, boxing and climbing trees.

Justine Roberts, founder of Mumsnet.com, an online forum for mothers, said that parents only wanted to protect their children. 'It is the mums and dads that have to deal with the bruises and cuts,' she said. 'But broadly speaking I think that we will have to be brave and allow our children to take physical risk because, within reason, that is the way that they learn.

'When you see your two-and-a-half year-old on a climbing frame your heart is in your mouth and that is normal but I think most parents realise that at some point their children have to take physical risks; most recognize the benefits of learning through play. We can be overprotective but it is impossible to wrap children in cotton wool.'

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When I was kid, we would go out to this crazy-ass rope swing built on a high hill and throw ourselves out over a creek, let go and fly to land on the other side. We would also steal the neighbor's older brother's go-cart and careen around the neighborhood at high speed, build forts in hillsides, play for HOURS in suburban construction sites on and around the heavy machinery, walk across beams over basement pits and walk up the glass strewn "Rat's Alley" behind by the recycling center and smash bottles back down the water overflow causeway. Don't even get me started with fireworks.

Not once did I ever get injured, or seen anyone get injured. Which is why my favorite place in St. Louis is the City Museum built out of an old shoe factory, filled with rebar and concrete. A great place to walk out with a contusion and/or bleeding scalp.

Remember parents: Quit being such pussies. You're parents weren't and look how you turned out.

A family I know will not sponsor my MS Bike Ride because the National MS Society supports Embryonic Stem Cell Research, yet the family itself is not only HUGE supporters of the Bush War Machine, but owe their entire lives to the benefits of working for the Military/Industrial Complex.

86-94k Documented Civilian Deaths in Iraq due to US Adventurism.

Iraq Body Count

Lets keep those embryos safe.

I just saw the trailer for Woody Allen's new movie Vicky Christina Barcelona in which an artist gets into a Threesome with Penelope Cruz & Scarlett Johansson.

Woody Allen leaves his wife for his adopted daughter, Threesome w/Penelope Cruz & Scarlett Johansson.

Movie Rated PG-13.

Heh!

Hi Everyone,

It's that time of the year where I send you my annual appeal to donate to my MS Bike Ride.

I know 5 people with MS. I think that's 5 people too many. Two of them were friends I didn't know had MS until they revealed themselves after I began riding.

Last year I rode 40 miles both days, in what seemed to be an effortless ride. This year I have new, super-awesome bike and a drive to do a 75/75. My training is coming along great and this weekend I rode a 40/40 (though the second day wiped me out), I still feel very good about it.

Sadly though, I am not fielding Cap'n Marrrrk & the Scurvy Dogs this year, but have joined another team, The Heavy Pedal Band. It's a small but good team, and their captain Patrick Sheehan is a very nice guy and will be sporting a small stereo with speakers on the road to make the miles fly by.

Any way, please support my ride.

You can directly support me by clicking the link below. It's safe & secure.

Thanks in advance for your help.


Click here to visit my personal page.

Reality: I am on a bike ride with my collegiate friend Sappo. We are 15 miles out from Cap'n HQ not too far from the house of Eileen's parents. Eileen=First ever collegiate girlfriend, lives in Portland, OR. I have pulled ahead of Sappo and am waiting for him to catch up.

Imagination: A car drives by. It is Eileen and her dad, Bob. Eileen says, "Holy Shit! That's Cap'n Marrrrk, pull over."

Hey Cap'n Marrrrk!

Holy Shit Eileen, what are you doing in town? Hey' you're in town and you haven't called me?

Reality: I pop out of the day dream as Sappo pulls up. "Hey Sappo, what do you think about when you ride?"

Sappo: "You aren't going to believe this, but Eileen came into (the restaurant I manage) last Thursday night?"

Me: Wow, that's really tripped out because you'll never guess what I was just thinking." I tell him. It's only natural that she doesn't call me. I was only an Ex from 20 years ago. But to make it even weirder is this: Thursday Night I was talking on the phone to Tiffany who was Eileen's room mate at the time we first met. Tiffany had found me on Facebook after a 7 year communication blackout. She lives in Italy and was back in the States for a month to visit her mother in Texas, so she thought she'd call with cheaper LD rates.

How weird is that? Nearly weird enough to make me think Cosmic Plans and Coincidences were at work. But then I wised up.

Labels: personal, The Cap'n