Miles Per Life: Reborn and Ranting

Haven't written here in a while, I figure now is as good a time as any to get back into the swing of things. Could it be the sheer stress I feel from the paper and work or is it that blogging is really the last creative outlet I have. Recently many ideas have been swirling about my head. Why Am I a Journalist? I don't know if I love journalism and as I have said in an earlier blog, if journalism is right for me. I would like to be more creative and write my "Gatsby" but alas it does not seem that is happening any time soon, so maybe I will settle for 'Gossip Girl'  or maybe I could just aspire to be like David Duchovony's character on 'Californication,' write one great novel, fuck a lot, do some blow, and have the wonderful life of being a sex addicted womanizing father of one but that really does not fit me to well, I have problems with wordplay (well the sex and blow would be easy but how could I write the great novel). Here I am one star among others in space. Maybe its the Los Angeles lifestyle that is bothering me. If Fox Mulder (Duchovny again) isn't the Socrates of television this is description of California: its hell. Maybe the Mecca of writing and Art is New York like the show suggests or maybe Mecca is what you make of it. I could argue that this all stems from me feeling a bit older. As Feigned Interest suggests: there is something about me that seems a lot older. I seemed to be more reserved this semester, less loud and obnoxious, I wear more ties and dress shirts, and funny hats. Or maybe its because I pine for her too long, and don't look around enough. Whatever it may be this i know for sure: Thank god for blogs. 

Watch It, I'm blogging over here

I haven't written on this blog in a while so to get back into the groove like Stella I am going to write a new free verse poem I have started working on. So here it is my poem I call it: "Is it Wrong: A delusion in Love" 

Having delusions of grandeur between her and me, she draws me to a place I want to be. She makes me feel good when it is so wrong, brightens up my face, when the world shuns me in the dark. I would like to make her apart of every verb I say, wish every song could use her name, watch her if she was in every movie made. Unfortunately I lie waiting in my desperation and angst healing a broken heart because I met her 3 years too late, 1 day worth the waste, and still I tempt fate. Is it wrong that time and time again, I fall into a guilty sin, Is it wrong I have fallen for a girl who already gave her heart away to him, The boy doesn't get the girl, there is no fairy tale ending in this world. I can only dream of grandiose things between her and me and so I wain on the side, hoping for her to see the love in these eyes. So I sit and I give it my all hoping and waiting for it to fall, cause she shares his name, and I wish that she would share mine and i give her all the fame. I hold her hand and the whispers start they ask her if I am her man, she smiles and laughs, I die inside because what I want, is only attainable at sight. She tells me I am the best, I tell her she is better than the rest and as long as she is happy I can die a smiling man, we go with no riches, all we have are memories in hand, just by knowing her I can die a happy man. Is it wrong that time and time again, i fall into a guilty sin, is it wrong I have fallen for a girl who already gave her heart away to him, the boy doesn't get the girl, there is no fairy tale ending in this world. I can only dream of grandiose things between her and me and so I wain on the side, hoping for her to see the love in these eyes. 

Last call for alcohol and still I sit talking, listening, learning her dreams, we smile, we laugh, I tell her she can have my heart and she doesn't have to give it back. Here we are we've reached the end I have to leave, I don't want walk away, I want to look back, but if I do it is a sign that the good times are over and that is that. So I look back and she kisses me on the cheek goodbye and I know that its worth the pain I feel inside. Is it wrong that time and time again, I fall into a guilty sin, is it wrong I have fallen for a girl who already gave her heart away to him, the boy doesn't get the girl, there is no fairy tale ending in this world. I can only dream of grandiose things between her and me and so i wain on the side, hoping for her to see the love in these eyes.

Miles Per Confessions of a Gentlemen Club Junkie Part II

 

"Strip Club veterans," she says. 

"yeah since we were 18," the good doctor and I retorted half smirking. 

"Oh 21 years old, young veterans," Cassy, the lengthy blonde says back. 

Cassy looks like any she could have been any cheerleader at my old high school, blonde, blue eyes, that annoying high pitched voice, but i have to admit she was hoT with a capital "T." Besides the point I was preoccupied with the apple of my eye, is it love, definitely not, can I say it is an infatuation, probably a more aptly appropriate title. Now most people go to strip clubs for the TNA, naked girls named Ivy or Chastity but I go there for the bartenders. Now the thing about bartenders that separates bartenders at a strip club from strippers at the club is that ideally bartenders leave something to the imagination. What makes most of these bartenders beautiful is what they leave to the imagination. Sitting there sipping my root beer no ice I talk with Cee about anything and everything .

So begins the flirting. Now I have absolutely no style when it comes to flirting , except I am probably the king of cheesy lines. I must say my lines are so cheesy it could make like 10 cheeseburgers.  As cheesy as 80s movies like "Mannequin" or "Weekend at Bernies" I was a Andrew McCarthy being drawn to the unattainable. Now my lines are a blur but I do believe they were not limited to: 

(After folding a dollar into a heart) "here is my heart you can have it" 

she smiled, told me I am too sweet (a response I have gotten too many times from her) and properly displayed my heart on her tip jar. 

(After giving her all the money in my hands): "I have nothing else to give you because you already took my heart" 

Definitely corny like cob but it is entertaining she laughs and smiles and even flashes me a few times. So life could be good. Cee and Kristy are about to take the stage no to strip but for stage cleanup basically the waitress and bartender erotically wipe down the stage with windex while swinging around the pole all in the name of patrons throwing money for the "unattainable." 

Strip club term of the day right now: Make it Rain (M*ayk*it*ray*ne)- Means you throw money on the strip as if it was a rain storm. The Doctor and I decided to make it a battle as we both threw money from every direction, never have i felt my $40 one dollar bills have been spent better. Oh what a night! Just another day at The Bear.

Miles Per Hell Fire Journalism

Two days after the "ASO Devil" story a lot of people have congratulated me for writing a story on so little, I received praise for being so "RELIABLE." Now here I am three stories due next week and I am terrified, I feel like I am going to breakdown soon enough, Now that people think I am "reliable" I have to live up to the facade. Lets hope I make it through the week in at least half of piece and not burned by my own limitations.

Miles Per Deadline PART DEUX

Deadline night again. 

Finished my story on the ASO devil. Yet maybe I am being too harsh calling her that! 

Cookies are a good source for sugar...I bought 13 of them for my fellow journalist...If only I had the milk to, now that would be PERFECTION. 

Feigned Interest labors hard on the computer as I live in fear that my story is not as good as Lori think it is. Maybe I am just paranoid, maybe it is just the Filet O Fish in my stomach. 

But there is still some kind of light out so that is comforting. 

At least till I am right back to the grind tomorrow. 

Next Wednesday will be my day of rest. 

Miles PER Beware of Jagulars

Broken radio is the worse thing that could happen on your way to school, the damn thing wouldn't even turn back on, I could have entertained myself by doing my own renditions of awesomely bad 80's songs but I instead just drove silently as random thoughts about the road took control. Upon trying to enter the on ramp to my freeway I found that I was by myself and about to enter the carpool lane but I couldn't get over because all the cars in the regular were stopped and I would have to stop in the carpool lane to do it, why hold up angry LA people, so I cruised down the carpool lane hoping no cops were waiting at the interchange. After barely escaping that I sat in traffic for all of 10 minutes (Might be a new record) and I ended up behind an old Jaguar coupe that had a very interesting license plate: BEWARE OF JAGULARS! The first thought that rolled through my head was how fucking corny that is, and how egotistical the schmuck driving the jaguar must be to believe that car jackers are itching to get the next jaguar. Maybe I saw it as a metaphor for how elitist we Americans can be or the effects of having no radio was getting to me. Then again is wasn't as cool as the license plate of a car at my little brothers school: MY OTHER RIDE IS YOUR HUSBAND. Now that is something completely different. Or maybe it is just the honest to god truth. 

Miles PER Fear & Loathing with the ASO devil

6:30 AM I woke up, refreshed for what has been the longest day of my life. As a student journalist time moves slowly, the day becomes longer yet there are still not enough hours, minutes, seconds, in the day for a journalist to get everything done.I can only dream of a 25th hour. 8: 30 AM I arrive at school. I was hoping to walk into the newsroom, sit on my ass for 20 minutes then go work on my story. Instead I walked into school and ended up starting as soon I went right to work. the night before my editor had been verbally bitched at by a invisible demon, the ASO devil, who up until recently was the student president of my beloved El Camino. Now like Client 9 (for those non-news junkie: client 9 is Eliot Spitzer the NY governor who had unprotected sex with hooker Ashley Dupre) the ASO devil has fallen from grace after being removed from student body president.  Covering this story is like letting the little kid in line hit you with a stick over and over again...At every corner you are met with opposition, they choose not to talk because they have nothing to say on the matter, She doesn't want to talk (FUCK HER), I even was polite enough to give her a shot to redeem herself, tell me why she was removed, she responded very bitchy to my editor, so now I have to write a story in defense of my editors honor...HOORAH! It is 7:36 PM right now and after spending the last eight to nine hours chasing down "The ASO Devil" I have gotten what I need, so now I just need to sit here, write, and hope she doesn't come up from behind me and make me an offer I can't refuse. Dirt naps don't sound too comfortable. 

(Kilo will Return in  Miles Per Spike Lee'ing the issues)