All I need from you is…

So, I was cruising around town one very hot summers day whilst listening to Led Zeppelin… as I often do. But, this one time… I was listening to Out On the Tiles, and it made me think… and then think some more. Analyzing Led Zeppelin lyrics has always been a great past time for me, but there really isn’t much to analyze with this song; it’s pretty straightforward and honest. “All I need from you is all your love. All you got to give to me is… All your love?” Sounds great, except the only thoughts that went through my head were… what I DON’T need from you. Yes, many thoughts… and I know this much… all I don’t need from you is… for you to pretend to be somebody you are not in an attempt to electrify or personify me. The truth will come out eventually, so you may as well get it over with… as no one is perfect. This will only put us both in a pickle, and lead to our demise. Also, please don’t try too hard to be funny by pulling foolhardy maneuvers or making asinine jokes. It’s like this: A) You are funny. B) You are not funny. Overkill. Next… please don’t come on to me real strong and act all emotional when we’re alone, then totally go Danny Zuko style in front of your friends. Really? How old are you? And please, when you come over, don’t park in front of a fire hydrant… nuff said. Also, please don’t break up with me for a safety girl, and then make sexual innuendos towards me when she’s in the next room. This means you are a flawed human being. I understand if you want to settle down with a breeder, but wouldn’t it make better sense to sexually innuendo her then? I hope you are a having a divine marriage. And please don’t moan and constantly bitch about all the wrongdoings life has endeared you… or bitch about your job because it is not what you dreamt. This will only make you sound like a pussy. Hard work pays and it is honorable... unless it’s illegal I guess. Please don’t bail out on me because “feelings” are now in the cards, and you don’t want a girlfriend… I know this is your prerogative, but don’t call me approximately one year later to rekindle. Guess what? I moved on. Please don’t try to be my friend, unless you mean it… true friends stand by you in time of need and don’t play childish games with each other. Look up “friend” in the dictionary… on second thought, I will do it for you: 1) A person attached to another by feelings of affection or personal regard. 2) A person who gives assistance; patron; supporter. 3) A person who is on good terms with another; a person who is not hostile. You get the gist. Also, please don’t try to make me jealous by flirting or hooking up with a skank, or skanks’ plural. You will squander, as I am NOT, nor will I ever be jealous of skanks. Straight up. Please don’t leave your underwear in my bed, or your watch on my dresser, or other “important” items in my home just as an excuse to see me again. Here’s a thought… you can see me again because you want to see me again. Just say it. Most likely if we had that great of a time to make you forget your junk… I too, will want to see you again; consequently, you won’t have to deal with the dreaded rejection. Also, if you don’t have a college degree, this doesn’t make you stupid; you are the one who makes you stupid. If you try too hard to act scholastic or intellectual, you are only acting like a douche bag. Be yourself… we know you are smart. Please don’t try to communicate with me via third party through social networking. If there is something you want to say to me, you know how to get hold of me. Don’t be a chump... or insult my intelligence. I sure hope your bro-mance enjoyed the enticing poem you posted though.Also… don’t booty text me at five in the morning. Just don’t. Self-explanatory. Also… please don’t follow me at the grocery store and casually whistle or make creepy sounds; there is not a chance in Hell this will work out.This will only give me unnecessary anxiety and pretty much ruin my day. Don’t treat me like a whore, and don’t treat me like your mother. I am not your mom. And a lady never need be treated like a whore, even if she is one. Finally… all I don’t need from you is… backseat driving. I WILL open the door and push you out of the car... I’ll stop first though. And that’s all I have to say about that. The end.

UNION STATION

This one time… I woke up covered in blankets reeking of sweat and black truffle oil. Darkness covering my open eyes, I immediately jumped up in a panic, breathing hard… and still smothered by the mothball-infested blankets. This must be a dream … or a nightmare, I thought. Why can’t I fight these blankets off me? I closed my eyes again and calmed down only to visualize my safe bedroom… I’ll go back to reality soon. I heard the sound of footprints, many footprints. Then a cell phone rang next to me, phew, my alarm clock! I can get up now and start my day… suddenly a train whistle gusted loudly. What? Panic mode again, I struggled to get the dust bowl blankets off me… for I couldn’t breathe! They were so heavy I needed help! I tried and tried to scream for help… but nothing except silent air came out of my tonsils. The footsteps paused, less one set I heard walking towards me, slowly creeping near, and then stopped. The blankets rustled, and I felt a slight chilled breeze coming through. Alas, the thickness unraveled my face. I was frozen with fear, but there was no one around, just me. I knew this was a dream and I’d wake up eventually. Just relax, or try to move… yes, that’ll help me wake up. Time passed… I finally gained the strength to move. I sat up, lost in a world filled with portal like arches above me… marble-like glass triangular circles all in one. Just wow? This is not my beautiful house. How did I get here? Where does this highway go? I stared into space, as I knew it was only a dream! The train whistled again. Hark! It was loud… I heard footprints rustling but could now not see a goddamn thing. I wanted out of this dream so I sucker punched myself… nothing. I’m done with this! I hopped up; I was now standing, barefoot on a rustic plank of dirty felt gritty floor. Straight ahead, there lie a large sign… but it was blurry. Everything was blurry! I’ll get to the bottom of this… I was now running to this sign, but never got closer… though the image became clearer. I’ll get there! My vision diminished more, everything around me was black… but I finally saw the sign, it read “Union Station.” Really? I had never been to Union Station, but have heard of its existence. The sign lit up! It flickered with the oddest sound of electromagnet waves of post war destruction. Perhaps I’m in Purgatory I thought, with the exception being… I’m not a Catholic. This was the stupidest dream I’ve ever had, and I needed out, stat! So I closed my eyes again and envisioned a beautiful beach on a tropical island oasis. I lie in the sun, and felt it caressing my face. A beautiful silhouette of a man figure appeared in front of me, behind him a crystal clear blue sky with pure white marshmallow clouds. He smiled the most evanescence smile I had ever seen… full of safety and warmth… and trust. It was just him and me. I was able to speak! "Meet me at the Union station," I said… and then, my alarm went off… and I woke up. 

The end.

HEAVEN

So, I was thinking about Heaven. How do I get there when I die? I always thought that if you do onto others as you'd have done to you, was the first step. Perhaps generosity, kindness and compassion (to all living beings) are other steps?

Wait there's more. The Ten Commandments... we've heard about them, Thou shalt not kill, steal and commit adultery, Honor thy father and mother (my personal fav), take the Lord's name in vain (sorry I was driving in traffic!), etc... It probably doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure these out! Another Commandment states "Thou shalt have no other gods before me." Hmmm, what a pisser... now I cannot believe in the Buddha, Abraham, Confucius, Allah (God forbid!)... Or any of the other gazillion entities in this world? What to do. I really want to go to heaven when I die because I heard that Hell is bad bad bad.

Wait, I remember how to get to Heaven when I die. I need to be Saved! I was told this when I went to church with with my aunt five years ago on Easter Sunday. All or nothing, "they" said. Jesus' way or the highway. Cool, I think I will do it this Sunday. I can renounce Satan and evil with blessed water. Sweet. Does this mean I can now practice unethical procedures in business; not practice what I preach; condemn abortion... then later that day discuss blowing up the Middle East and support the death penalty; put down vegetarians because the Bible claims that animals are for man to eat (even though theoretically plants were the choice before "dominion" on animals); have sex with a hooker; covet my neighbor; be a racist, and still make it to heaven? Yes! Because I will be Saved by the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit!

Uh oh. Does this mean I have to become a hypocrite? Does this mean I cannot be friends with Homosexuals... and do I have to vote Republican? Basically, what I'm asking... If I want to go to heaven when I die, do I have to act like an asshole to get there? Screw it... I'm going to the beach on Sunday! However, I will make sure I give some change or whatever I can spare to a starving, or perhaps drug addicted homeless person.

Do you realize... that everyone you know... someday... will die.

Note: I don't mean to offend anyone. I know there are some good non-judgemental Christians out there.

"Dangerous consequences will follow when politicians and rulers forget moral principles. Whether we believe in God or karma, ethics is the foundation of every religion."

-His Holiness the Dalai Lama

My worst fears...

My worst fear is that one day I may be in a situation when I have to say, "I was young... I needed the money."

My worst fear is that someone will speak to me in french and I will reply in español. por que?

My worst fear is, If I eat a bagel, someone will drive by me and scream out the window, "Enough with the bagels... your ass looks like a truck!"

My worst fear is that one of these days I am going to wake up and look like Keith Richards.

My worst fear is that my neighbor will knock on my door at 8am. I told him I will never answer the door at 8am! EVER!

My worst fear is my next birthday.

My worst fear is that I am going to wake up and look like Keith Richards.

My worst fear is that I will not be able to buy my Malibu beach house or Manhattan brownstone before I retire. Retire??? What?

My worst fear is what's behind the shower curtain.

My worst fear is accidentally stepping on a cat hairball the minute I walk through the door.

My worst fear is cold season, for Nyquil gives me Nam flashbacks. (Do I watch too much Magnum PI?)

My worst fear is Willie Nelson's pound of weed.

My worst fear is that I will wake up and look like Keith Richards. (Did I already mention that?)

My worst fear is finding my next gig. (Obviously I am not working on that right now)

My worst fear is lack of tail.

My worst fear is the Apocalypse...

The bloody WHO.

So I finally got to see the Who in concert! Did it rock the nugget? You better you better you bet. It's not the what; it's the bloody fucking WHOOOOOOOOOO!!! HELLS YEAH. Anyway, there were a lot of guys with old man butt there, and kids too… but the kids are alright. The arena was a big pot smoking manifest. I staggered back to the underground and the breeze blew back my hair. Hell, I saw Athena. I had no idea how much I'd need her. When it comes to all night living I know what I'm giving. I've got it all down to a tee… and it's free.

I'm not trying to cause a big s-s-sensation, it's just that I've been dreaming of seeing the bloody Who… but my dreams, they aren't as empty as my conscience seems to be. And, I tell you what… Roger Daltrey is STILL one dead ass sexy ass muther fuckin rock star!!! Isn't he like 60 and shit? How do you think he does it? I don't know. What makes him so good? I can't explain, I think its love? He's all short too… but looks pretty tall. I look pretty tall, but my heels are high. He looks young for his age too. The simple things you see are all complicated. I look pretty young, but I'm just back-dated, yeah…

Okay, I could go on but I drunk myself blind to the sound of old T-Rex, and I now must travel south cross land to the LB to pick up that fur pie, Pinky. My apartment is soon to be a pet farm… even friggen squirrels and shit! No lie. The exodus is here, but I don't mind. Sometimes, I feel I gotta get away.

Rock is dead they say? I think not. Don't get fooled again. No, no!

LONG LIVE ROCK!

Be it dead or alive…