Thursday, April 30, 2009

Come And Get Me, Swine Flu!

Depression is funny in that it seems though you at times want to kill yourself, you don't want to do it surreptitiously. You want it to be known to "The World", apparently the same "cold, cruel world" that led you to your fateful action, to know that you've "bid fare thee well" to it's rough and indifferent countenance for good".

My recent fantasy "self-knock-off" would include a heavy dose of world-wide pity as one of the unfortunate victims of the current swine flu pandemic.

That's right, I want to catch swine flu and die from it.

Rather than the pathetic downing of the rest of my Colchicine pills followed by a good amount of choice Cabernet (the drug is purported to act like arsenic in overdose situations, and there is no antidote) which would likely be painful and cause all manner of bodily fluids to be eschewed onto my floor strewn about my corpse (not a pleasant site for the paramedics who finally show up), I thought I'd just suck the cock of some young Mexican teenaged hustler.

I'd accomplish a couple goals then. I'd get my last "fling" (after some 6 years since I'd tasted Gary's fine specimen) and I'd, hopefully, contract the deadly swine flu.

After I'm gone though, I'd be remembered lovingly as an innocent victim of a global tragedy.

What a way to go!

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

FLASHBACK: June 1981

Having been one of the finalists for an annual RI Junior Achievement award, I was qualified to attend the exclusive JA National Conference (NAJAC) being held at Indiana University in Bloomington, Indiana. Now, as we were preparing to embark on our prized trip, the excitement in the air was palpable. Like me, many of the other delegates boarding the charted Greyhound bus were going on their first long-distance trip.

Once we got going, everyone quickly started to make friends with the kids they were sitting next to. Since we were from all over the state it was likely you didn't know the kids around you very well. I sat next to a short, frumpy-looking girl from Warwick. This bus-mate was friends with Kathleen, a thin, delicate-looking girl from Providence who I had met a month earlier at a JA social for us NAJAC delegates. Kathleen was sitting a couple rows back and we greeted one another. I could tell she had the hots for me.

About halfway to Indiana after a long, uncomfortable night, the kid next to Kathleen agreed to switch seats with me and Kathleen and I completed the trip talking about all manner of subjects. We were fast friends and I found her interesting. I also found her overt flirting very flattering and was intrigued by the idea that someone could be so attracted to me. I hadn't had much exposure to "normal" affection from either sex and, in fact, had been heart-broken recently by the unrequited love I felt for John. The love that, apparently, once I'd expressed it, ruined his respect for me and destroyed even the bonds of our platonic friendship. I was starting to think that maybe I should give heterosexuality another go at it.

The 21-hour ride to Indiana University was grueling, but heck, I was young, I could take it. Kathleen and I vowed to get together throughout the week-long conference as much as we could, but we knew we had an intense schedule of activities to maintain. As I stood with my luggage I heard my name called by one of the organizers for dorm room assignment and stood at the designated spot to await mini-bus transport to my dorm house. While waiting, I heard other names being called out for room assignments and as a complete shock I learned that John was not only here at the conference, but he was assigned to share my dorm room.

I had known he was chosen at the awards banquet to be an Alternate Delegate, but I didn't know he'd actually made it. I didn't see or hear him on the bus, perhaps he was towards the back, but it made me wonder if he'd seen or heard me. And if so, it meant he purposely avoided even saying "hi".

John came over to our dorm hall waiting area and we tried hard to ignore each other, busily socializing with other kids in the group. Once we were transported to our dorm and made our way up the elevator to our sixth-floor rooms, we quietly started to put our clothes in dressers and closets. Then I broke the tense silence.

"So, how you been?" I asked, almost nonchalantly.

"Good." John responded after a slight pause. "You?"

I coolly replied, "Good."

And that was it. We each left to our own events without another word.

When evening came and we were done with the lectures and activities and dinner hall, it was time to hit the hay. After a quick shower I got to my dorm room and was surprised to see John was already in bed. Without turning on a light so not to disturb him, I slipped under the top sheet of my bunk, wearing nothing but my white briefs. With no A/C, it was stifling in there, even with the window open and the door to the hall held slightly ajar with a book.

I turned to my side and saw John watching me. He grinned despite his best efforts not to at the fact he'd been caught and he turned over pretending to be asleep. I too grinned at catching him.

"Pssst, John..." I whispered over to him. He shrugged under his sheet and tried to ignore me.

"Hey," I whispered out, louder this time.

"What," he replied quietly but coarsely over his shoulder, trying to sound disturbed.

"C'mon, you know what," I begged through my smirking grin.

He turned over and faced me, "You know it can't be that way. We talked about this."

"I'll just give you a BJ. No one will hear us. C'mon, you know you want to."

John lay back with his arms behind his head, face up on his bed, the top sheet covering only from his waist down. I stared at his bare chest, lit softly by the faint light from the hall. A thin layer of sweat made his smooth skin glisten, the hardened dark brown nubs of his nipples called out to my lips to kiss them gently, tenderly. John pretended to ignore my plea, but I could see under the slowly rising sheet that he was, in fact, quite entertained by my generous offer.

I quietly slid off my bunk and crawled over to him. There was still a bit of foot traffic outside in the hall so I knew we had to be very discreet. John lay stiff as a board, not acknowledging me in any way other than his ever growing erection. I poked my head under his sheet and found he had inched his briefs down a bit, freeing his now fully engorged cock. The fragrant aroma of Zest soap, faint sweat and moist uncut cock brought my own dick to rock hard status and I engulfed him in one mouthful. I sucked and licked and twisted my tongue under his foreskin making him moan, perhaps a little too loudly. After a couple of minutes, he seemed to be close. I sped up my efforts ready to swallow his load, but just before he was about to cum, someone knocked on the door.

Without a beat, I bolted back to my bed and jumped under the sheet to hide my own pre-cum oozing boner. It was one of the guys from down the hall reminding us to set our alarm clocks for a full day ahead of us tomorrow. We told him we would and bid him good night. It seems he didn't suspect anything unusual was going on. After I was sure he was gone, I started to make my way back to John, but he told me not to. I tried to convince him it was okay, but he coldly shut me out. He turned over and and wouldn't respond to me anymore.

After a few minutes, I gave up. I lay back and quietly started to jerk off under the cover of my sheet. As I neared climax, I looked over at John and saw he was doing the same. We looked into each other's eyes and came together. Then, without a word, we turned over facing away from each other and fell asleep.

Friday, April 24, 2009

VIDEO SCRAPBOOK: Bittersweet Film Endings

This is the end
Beautiful friend
This is the end
My only friend, the end

"The End" - The Doors

Here are some clips of some of my favorite bittersweet endings in some of Hollywood's great movies. "Bittersweet" because each have a "bitter", melancholy, not-so-happy ending but "sweet" in that they are a pure pleasure to watch!



"Citizen Kane"
A truly great classic, with the grand-daddy of cinematic "twist" endings.



"Planet of the Apes"
As if Chuck weren't already a big star, this role and his over-the-top iconic ending rant made him larger than life. And one of the most shocking end-of-film reveals in cinematic history.



"Don't Look Now"
Damp, old and foggy Venice. A distraught and troubled father in mourning. Killer midgets. 'Nuff said.



"The Shining"
King. Kubrick. Again, need I say more?



"Brazil" (Original ending)
Because some people thought this original version of the ending was too dark and depressing they remade it with a "happy" version. Trust me, it rocks with the first one!



"Sunset Boulevard"
Poor Norma Desmond. All she wanted was a shot at a comeback. Instead she'll get a straight jacket.



"Rosemary's Baby"
Can you say AHHHHHHGH!?! Damn, I peed my pants!

Some others worthy of mention (but I couldn't find clips for):

"Jacob's Ladder"
"The Other"
"The Reincarnation of Peter Proud"

Guess What I Got Again?

How ironic it is that the ancient disease associated with affluence and excess seems to pop-up so frequently in my body which is defined by poverty and deprivation.

I'm starting to suspect that it's not really and truly gout now. It's unassigned to any one joint and seems to drift across both feet, striking deep inside. If it is arthritic in nature, the affected joints may be the instigator, but the real pain and discomfort lies in the associated swelling and sensitivity. Again, like the late stages of my symptoms last month, the feet swell to rather large size, especially the dorsal side. I suspect this illness is more related to diabetes. That's more frightening than gout for sure. It's rare to hear of an amputation due to gout, but diabetes....well...

Aside from this I'm also in a big depression now too. I think of death almost constantly. Lately I feel like anything I do to try to improve my situation is all moot anyway. I'll probably be dead in a few years, so why bother. I have more and more panic attacks in the middle of the night thinking I'm going to have a heart attack preceded by a bad case of the fibs I had experienced before.

I've started to downgrade my beer purchases to Busch, a cheaper, yet still palatable brand. Have I decreased the amount of consumption? Er, no. Having all this free time is bad for that. I drink about an average of 3 12-packs a week. I think this spurs on my foot problems too.

Weight is probably around the 320's still. Don't really know. I stowed the scale up on top of one of the cabinets in the bathroom. I don't want to deal with it.

I've lowered my job prospects to now filling out applications with telemarketers. What a truly unheroic step back if I go there again. And it'll be so rewarding to my sense of depression and loneliness. Luckily I don't own a gun. I might be inclined to use it.

At least I have Ric back in my life. Yay. Looking forward to yet another weekend of drinking and listening to him lay into me about my weight and lack of faith in Jesus. Woo hoo. Wait 'till I tell him I have no job and am on the verge of homelessness again. Oh joy.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

It's Freakout Time!

I just can't seem to catch a break lately.

I'm now in full freakin' sweatin' bullets mode here.

Man, did I ever underestimate the downswing of this economy. Despite my years of experience, there seems to be nothing for me. And I'm looking everywhere. Prospects are worse than bleak, they're life-threateningly dire.

I posted last week about the "romantic" (in a Jack Kerouac way) idea of giving up rent for life on the road, living out of my car. But seriously folks, could this be as freeing a lifestyle as some websites would have you believe?

And I have to take into account my personal obstacles to this vision:

1. My weight and health would make the confined spaces and poorly-controlled climate of that existence supremely uncomfortable, if not simply impossible.

2. I can't pee in public restrooms let alone bathe, dress and shave there. I'd be afraid to be "caught" every second.

3. How many times would cops be rousting me before they decide to take me "downtown"? Like I need that. So I'd become Peter Paranoia every evening wasting valuable gas looking for a good "sleeping spot" to avoid detection from the police who have nothing better to do than hassle homeless people.

4. Unless I throw off the drunken monkey on my back I'd be looking at my 3rd DUI. Doesn't matter if I was only going to sleep in my car, not drive it after drinking...in Florida, it's a DUI to simply have the keys on you while you're in the car. Even if you're sound asleep, nestled burrito-style inside fluffy comforters and pillows halfway between your trunk and backseat.

5. Um, I don't "out-right" own the car. Still owe the finance company a bit more than 2 years of payments. Don't make payments...don't keep car...lose "shelter"...become TRULY homeless. So I would still need to make at least roughly $600 a month for car payment, insurance, gas and have about $100 left over for everything else. Hope I get no tickets or unexpected expenses since that leftover $100 would have to cover food, laundry, car wash, showers, medications, toiletries...shit, no way just a hundred could cover all that!

So even if I worked at Disney doing entry-level work like fast food or janitorial (which I actually would prefer to some low-end telemarketing work right now) I'd make $7.60 an hour. So I'd have to work at least 25 hours a week. Hmmm, that actually sounds quite doable.

An alternative plan would be to sell Nugget.

A 2007 Chevy Cobalt SE sedan with 35000 miles and in excellent condition goes for $7855 (private party sale). I owe $3885 on it. Unlike a lot of people, thankfully, this means I'm very "right-side up" (thanks to my $5000 down payment). Even if I only got around $7K for it, I'd still be looking at over $3K profit! The downside, of course, is I then wouldn't have a car. I'd be back to the buses again. Unless I wanted to buy a piece of crap for under $3000. You have to be lucky to get something decent at that price. And I ain't lucky.

I'm in freakazoid mode right now 'cause it's gettin' down to the wire. No, I'm not broke yet but I know all too well from experience that it comes quickly. Even freezes on spending and cutting costs, a person will burn very quickly through savings when no money is coming in.

I keep dreaming that I'll scan the numerous employment sites I scour each day and stumble upon "the perfect job". But it's hard, since that opportunity will close up fast as soon as the thousand other sad sacks like me who are also freaking out snatch that up before I even click "send" on my emailed application with my sickly resume attached.

Friday, April 17, 2009

FLASHBACK: April 1965

The following descriptions of events are mostly derived from black & white home movies, photographs and testimonial through the years from those in attendance. They are not, of course, direct memories on my part, but I feel they accurately reflect real events of the occasion which occurred on or around my first birthday.

"Happy Birthday To You, Happy Birthday To You, Happy Birthday dear Michael, Happy Birthday To You!", the group of adults sang.

In response, I cried.

My father, a thin man in his twenties, dressed in a suit and thin black tie uses his keys to entertain me and get me to stop crying.

My mother, in a white sleeveless blouse and grey skirt poses for the movie camera my godfather is operating. She poses and blows a kiss into the camera. Off camera, she reaches for her frosted old-fashioned glass filled with a 7&7 and takes a drag on her Lucky Strike.

Dad makes his way to the Westinghouse refrigerator and pulls out a cold bottle of Narragansett beer for my mother's only uncle, Emile. His wife Connie calls out, "Paul, I'll have a Seagram's and ginger highball, please." Folks are still polite with one another as my parents have only been married for 19 months. The stigma of that fact has long since worn away. (You do the math.)

My father's younger sisters, Leona and Ruth, mug for the camera and jokingly pretend to be Marilyn Monroe-esque movie stars. They are 21 and 17 respectively.

Grandma Rita shyly shoos the camera away, holding up her white gloved hands and shaking her head covered with a feathery hat. Blanche sits next to her on the turquoise-colored couch, also self-conscious of the movie camera. She hides her pale face blemished by the persistent dark circles under her eyes.

The other grandma, the one who would be known as Memere, sits quietly in the corner of the room, only occasionally engaging in conversation. She's not the social type. She prefers to watch and perhaps judge the goings on around her through her rhinestone-bejeweled cat's eye glasses.

Somehow, someone gets the idea it would be hilarious to put a toilet seat around my neck. The group finds this outrageous. The scene of my screaming and crying at this indignity is filmed for posterity. There is some concern, captured on film, as attempts to remove the odd device from me are made but are met with obstacles...namely, my head. The hilarity and laughing ensues for the drinking party goers, except for the birthday boy. He continues to cry his head off.

Finally the toilet seat is cut away from my head after my screaming becomes unbearable. The seat is a kiddie potty seat so it cuts away with a sharp kitchen knife. Did the knife come close to my neck? Perhaps.

Now it's time for the chocolate frosted cake to be presented to the toddler. After the candle is blown out by the father, the cake is cut up and a big piece is reserved for me. It's destination, timed for maximum camera time: straight into my face. The idea is I would revel in the decadent euphoria of a massive amount of gooey, sweet chocolate cake smeared across my face as I scooped at it with my little hands and gleefully gobbled it up.

It didn't work out that way.

I cried even harder than before and screamed out to the aloof, uneducated crowd, gathered at a baby's first birthday in a little house in Franklin, Massachusetts: "You people are fucking losers!"

But like Stewie, no one heard me. They just continued to laugh.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

The Sin Of Freedom

The AT&T thing fell through. Third-party background checks way too scrutinizing. They can't verify the US Grants stint, of course. Just like AIG in '06. Ah well, we see where they ended up despite their supposed "high standards".

The company I "lovingly" call the Big C seems to be ignoring my pleas to suck their funky, oozing corporate dick again. I guess I might have accidentally grazed it with my teeth last time 'round. Odd, I thought us fags were great cocksuckers?

Nothing seems sustainable in the area, and, since I know taking a losing proposition like cold-call telemarketing or some sleazy vacation room job will kill me, probably literally, I refuse to lay down and become food for worms just yet.

So I think we're headed for Koyaanisqatsi Land again, kiddies!

Hold onto your fucking hats 'cause it's gonna be a bumpy ride!

In preparation for what may be the "inevitable", I've been reading all sorts of "living homeless" blogs. Here's a comment posted by a reader of a blog that gives instruction on living relatively decently while homeless. I thought this bit of sharing hit it all right on the head:

I'm 51 now, but when I was around twelve my family ended up homeless for awhile, living in a park. My mother was an alcoholic, and I don't remember how long we were at that park, but it was pretty awful. It was summer, but at night we had no blankets and the dew would chill us and I couldn't sleep. We used the bathroom at a nearby 24 hour laundromat, but no baths or showers. In spite of all that, I found myself a few years ago daydreaming about being homeless. The pressures of my job and screwed up relationships had me daydreaming of solace in a nomadic life. At the time I still had my last child to raise, so it was out of the question, but now she is grown, and the idea of dropping the fetters of a "homeful" life beckon. You'd think, after my past experience, it would be the one thing I'd be most afraid of, but having survived it, I have to say it has made me a lot less fearful than most people I've known. A home has never made me feel secure, and I can't keep up with the mortgage payments of the one I'm in now, anyway. Homes, apartments, have never protected me from the worst things that have happened to me. Sometimes, when things got to be too much, I'd leave and stay out all night in my car, and frankly, I felt safe there. I mentioned this to a couple of friends, who were horrified at the idea, and I learned to keep my mouth shut. I stumbled across this site looking for ways to keep warm, inside or out. It is utterly fascinating, and you are obviously such an intelligent and resourceful person that what you write gives a whole new meaning to homelessness. Of course it can be awful, if it's not by choice, or especially if children are involved. It's not glamorous, but why shouldn't it be a legitimate lifestyle choice? I don't know if it ever will be in this country, because if you are homeless, then someone is not getting paid for the space you are taking up, and I think that is at the bottom of why our laws are so cruel to the homeless. You are not paying a mortgage, rent, utilities, property taxes, etc. How dare you escape without being picked clean? That is one of the biggest sins in our country, not being available to have money made off of you!

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Music And Life

"...it was a musical thing and you were supposed to sing, or to dance, while the music was being played."

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Scientist Or Sex Kitten?

This is so cool.

The picture above looks like a photo of Albert Einstein, right?

Well, step away from the monitor and move about ten to fifteen feet back and look again.

Now it's an early 60's movie star icon known for her affinity for diamonds and a certain horny President.

Cool, huh?

Saturday, April 11, 2009

So Let It Be Written, So Let It Be Done

As I sat in the lobby of AT&T yesterday morning, I watched as one of the employees made her way out the door towards the parking lot. "Have a good Resurrection Day!", she happily exclaimed to the security guard. The guard wished her the same.

It took me a minute to figure out that she was referring to Easter. I'm so removed from Christianity that I'm now out of touch with the new nomenclature given to customary "Christian" holidays.

It seems that the holiday I grew up with, Easter, resplendent with baskets full of chocolate bunnies and eggs, ham dinners and colorful pastels and bouquets of flowers, isn't really a Christian holiday at all. When you look at the symbols closely, it becomes all so apparent, really...bunny rabbits=fertility, spring colors and motifs=the same, eggs=again fertility. Chocolate treats, marshmallow peeps, sumptuous ham dinners and baskets o' plenty=the promise of Spring's renewal of agricultural riches and a hope for prosperity. All so very...pagan.

The Venerable Bede wrote about the Germanic goddess Eostre in the Dark Ages. The celebrants to Eostre had by his time (c. 700 AD) pretty much died out and been supplanted by early Christians who had adopted and assimilated the name and customs into their annual remembrance of Christ's resurrection, the Pascha.

Fast-forward to the Age of Enlightenment (c. 1700s) and the subsequent founding of the United States under secular humanist principles, adopting and embracing the Judeo-Christian heritage of it's European creators but also desiring a greater move towards less-supernatural aspects of the lessons and traditions of the Bible, the more secular aspects of the holiday are given favor, above and beyond, in many contexts to the fantastic tale of the resurrection of the dead corporeal Jesus.

Christian fundamentalists to this day try to wrestle back the meaning of Easter. They see it, like Christmas, as having evolved into a commercialized and off-centered telling of Christ's message, and mission for which He died.

But I think, that unless we allow religious zealots to control the media and thus what we think (for let us accept the fact that the media controls our thoughts and actions) most people would hold dear the childhood memories of egg hunts and Easter Bunny gifts above the dour (and freakin' scary) images of a bleeding torture victim dying a horrifically painful death and magically being "beamed up" to an ethereal plain of dubious description to be closer to "God"...who is actually himself and they share that existence with another entity, only known as "The Holy Spirit" and they have always been the one creator and omniscient, omnipotent being who is The One True God. Do you have a headache yet? I know I do. Well, get used to pain, because if you don't believe in Him (all three of Him(s), I guess), you'll endure an eternity of burning and torture in Hell!

I'm watching one of my traditional favorites aired on TV each year around this time, Cecil B. DeMille's great "The Ten Commandments", starring Chuck Heston, Anne Baxter, Edward G. Robinson and, of course, my favorite Yul Brynner.

I guess this really isn't an "Easter" movie, since the supposed historical events depicted take place thousands of years before Christ during the Exodus of the Hebrews from Egypt. It had more of a foundation in the tenets of The Passover, a Jewish holiday intertwined, coincidentally, with the events of the Christian resurrection myth.

I love the quote ascribed and stated many times in the movie by Brynner's character about adhering to the written word as the law and the ultimate importance and sacrosanctness placed on the written word.

In the time of the real Rameses II, who Brynner's character was based, the written word instructed readers to follow the true faith. Through the Sed festival and a fervent reassertion of the pre-Akhenaten hierarchy of the pantheistic Egyptian belief system, the Pharaoh was revered as a god. Gone, under Rameses, were the misguided days of a monotheistic sun god and back to the gods of what would then be regarded as "old time religion".

The prior "written word" of the heresy of Akhenaten was eviscerated from monuments and tablets. Ramses would allow only one religion. The True One. The one which had endured over a thousand years, and would continue to be worshiped for another thousand years. Until, it too, like Christianity centuries later, would be corrupted and morphed into...something else.

Some "new" way of trying to explain, with utter futility, the inexplicableness of human existence and our ultimate destination after death.

Friday, April 10, 2009

Namaste

So I decided to spend my birthday at Animal Kingdom yesterday.

It couldn't have been more beautiful.

The weather was perfect and though it was very busy (since it's a Spring Break week for the kiddies, I guess) the folks at the park kept it moving. Wait times were not that bad. I got to ride the Expedition Everest rollercoaster twice.

They gave me a pin to wear but it got embarrassing after a while since every cast member that saw me kept wishing me a Happy Birthday.

My energy level was great and I was able to make it throughout the park, which is one of the larger ones in area, without many rest stops. I economized my lunch by buying a single cheeseburger at the Dinoland USA restaurant and stocked up with a decadent amount of toppings at the toppings bar. No beer and I didn't miss it.

I made 2 videos of shows I watched (one is a 2-parter). Rather than embed them here you can see them on my YouTube channel: www.youtube.com/cozmorio

Tomorrow Ric and I are going to Universal, I may have more videos. Stay tuned.

Thursday, April 09, 2009

Tuesday, April 07, 2009

An Apple A Day...

But in my case it seems that just ain't enough.

My gout and subsequent swelling have gone away, but everything else seems to have gone to pot. BP is back up, now I'm taking the full 50mg of Metoprol on top of the Lisinopril. Have to take one dose in morning, another in the evening because the extended release version is hard to fill...plus it's not one of the $4 generics.

Doctor wanted me to take blood tests again for sugar, cholesterol and uric acid levels, but I can't since I now have no insurance.

Weight is up to about 329 again. Having trouble standing for more than a few minutes and walking, well, that's getting near down right impossible.

Now I seem to have a form of laryngitis so it's difficult trying to persuade prospective employers to hear how good I sound, when, right now, I don't.

One little glimmer of hope...I should get some exercise Thursday when I go to one of the Disney parks for free. Disney is offering free admission this year for anyone on their birthday. How cool is that. I just have to print out this ticket they emailed me. Darn library computers couldn't open a PDF attachment. Oh brother!

Oh, BTW, Ric and I are friends again.

I broke down and called him Saturday and finally later that night he called back...drunk of course.

We went out to UNO's Sunday night then kicked back at his house and chilled in his jacussi. It was nice, like the old days.

I told him I was still working though. If it all breaks down and I have to move back in with him, I don't want him to think I planned it that way. Because I didn't. Not really.

At least I don't think so.

Man, I need more than an apple to cure me.

Monday, April 06, 2009

SCRAPBOOK: Come On Down To Rocky Point!

As a kid growing up in the '70s in Southern New England, there could be no better news than being invited to spend the day at Rocky Point. It was a comparatively small amusement park, but to a pre-teen it was a gigantic slice of what surely must be Heaven. I like many others who lived in the Rhode Island area during these halcyon heydays of this great park look upon these images with great joy, and bittersweet sadness for a lost paradise during a simpler, happier time.





There was always a long line for the House of Horrors, but it was worth it. It was a fun 3 minute ride into the bowels of Hell. Scream! Then laugh your ass off.

Ah the prices back then. Check out the sign in the photo above. It was cropped off a bit but you can see the POP (Pay One Price) for all rides, all day: $3.50! Damn! Do you know what a One Park Admission is for Walt Disney World right now? $75. Plus tax. Ya.

Here's a look down the big drop on the Flume ride. Raise your hands, if you dare!


Drenched folks on the Flume.

This coaster may look small but it kicked you with some wicked G-Forces! The main drop gave great negative g's! Even the bravest kids held on as they felt their ass lift out of the seat!

No day at Rocky Point would be complete without eating with your family at the Shore Dinner Hall. We kids would always have the chowder and clamcakes, served up Family Style in huge tourines and baskets while Mom And Dad feasted on the steamed clams by the bucket! Yum yum!

Sadly though, the park came on hard times in the '90s and here's what it's looked like for the past 15 years or so:

Saturday, April 04, 2009

Wrists, Meet Mr. Razorblade...

Well, it's not really that bad, yet...

But boy, did I screw up again! (Cue the comical vaudevillian "fool" sound: "Wha wha wha whaaaaa!")

Well, it's mainly my fault, but I've had a run of some incredibly bad luck as well.

First and foremost, of course, was the decision to leave my job abruptly without so much as a single goodbye. Well, now I have no income and the last check I was issued from them is way lower than expected. I think they didn't pay me for the second week I was out sick because they didn't get the doctor's note (which I do have, I just didn't turn it in).

Then there's the three interviews I went on this week. One was to a former employer. Though the interviewer didn't know me, perhaps someone else there did and told her to say what she said. She barely got halfway through my resume when she noticed I worked there before. She halted the interview and told me that at this time they were handling rehires differently. I would be sent an email by Friday with an online application to complete. Needless to say, no email ever arrived.

The second was at a well-known large bank working in collections. I was hoping to at least get hired and complete the 6 week training, then I'd probably quit, but I didn't get the chance. Though I had an hour and a half interview and I thought I had the two interviewers eating out of the palm of my hand (they even seemed to buy the BS about the Grants thing I did in New Orleans as if it were a "good service", snick snick) but after the interview they left the room for a few minutes to confer and the "head" interviewer came back in and gave me the line about "well we have so many candidates and we look at all the qualifications then make our decision usually within 5 to 7 business days"...yada yada. But I could tell from her look that I didn't get it. Sure enough, an email later that day confirmed it.

Finally Friday morning I went to a pre-interview roundup at another telecom company, but the HR rep made no bones about the multi-levels of hurdles one would have to clear in order to even qualify for consideration for one of the 6 spots she had left (the room was filled with about 25 candidates). One hurdle is the intensive 3rd party background check into employment and residency over the past 7 years. Oh brother, wait 'till they get a load of me and my Koyaanisqatsi-inspired Florida/Louisiana bounce around. And it's variance with my rather embellished (re: somewhat fictional) resume. She even wanted all the gritty details about my 2 DUI's. They haven't gotten back to me yet but I would guess it'll be a "no".

And to add insult to injury today, there was a note placed under the wiperblade on my car from my landlord. He kindly requests a replacement check for February's rent since the original was destroyed in the wash. I thought he had forgotten about this and had "written it off" as a bonus (since he did forget about a check about a year ago). So now I'm dropped even lower in my available funds and have transfered some of the 401k money from savings into checking to survive through the month. I was kinda hoping to keep all that intact safely in savings. Not any more.

Needing, after all this, a friendly ear to lament to, I called Ric, finally, after 4 months. I left a voicemail message that spoke about reconciliation in tones of peace, forgiveness and humility.

That was 2 hours ago. I haven't heard from him yet.

Wednesday, April 01, 2009

Looking Pasty?

Here in sunny Florida, one needs only head for the great outdoors, apply a moderate SPF protection tanning lotion, lie back in a lounge chair on a patio or beach for a few hours a day to get a glorious, golden-hued, healthy-looking tan.

But in other parts of the world right now, the weather is much too cold to even consider this as a tanning method. And when it does warm up, there may not be adaquate facilities to lie out basking in the pale sunshine more northern areas get.

What's more, traditional tanning methods can be expensive what with the time, travel and parking to get on the beach, crowds, costly ointments and creams, and hard to control exposure to too much sun causing uneven tanning or sunburns.

Who needs the hassle?

Finally, technology has once again come to the rescue.

Just click on the sun icon above and your tanning woes will be solved forever!

It's amazing!