Merry Christmas!!!

Tis the season where parents willingly let their children sit on some strange dude's lap. Enjoy!

I've actually been on the injured list and have been taking it easy. I threw my back out. Bleh. I wish I was more inspired at the moment. Well, have a great Christmas and a Happy New Year!

The sun casts no shadow

I thought I'd try posting in-between sleeping, getting up, then going back to sleep. How's it going so far?

Understated overindulgences

I often wonder about why people hop on morality issues without actually checking shit out, and checking themselves. I think some people just want to be in on a crusade without using any critical thinking. Science proves that it is much more fun that way.

My state has finally got In'N'Out Burger this last year. The California chain is very welcome here and is usually crazy with patrons. So, my point in bringing this up is that I thought that it would be fun to do a chain restaurant mash up. You could take, for instance, In'N'Out Burger and Outback Steakhouse and get "In'N'Outback". Fun, huh? I will try this once more by mashing up In'N'Out Burger with Texas Roadhouse: "In'N'Out House". Something tells me that people would not eat there.

There's nothing like a good toe stubbing for coming up with new swearwords. This weekend I came up with "FUHCRAPASONASHITOSHITS!" I guess it was more of a creative combination. It isn't a swear word, but it is kind of dirty: "Roikle" is one that I made up once. Roikled (verb) means "To feel horny whilst being frustrated by an unrelated set of circumstances". You should try to out do me without using any critical thinking. Again, science proves that it is more fun that way.

Dropping in

Life: One moment you are staring at your feet while taking a crap, the next minute you find yourself actually carrying out what it was that was troubling you on the shitter. I'm not afraid to admit that my thinker works best on the stinker. I also do my best reading on the turrlet. I formed quite a bond with Holden Caufield while reading "The Catcher in the Rye". You know what the funny thing about me and that book is? I was told that the reason that the book was controversial was that it had a part about masturbation in it. This is really great because it doesn't. There's really nothing that controversial except swearing in it, swearing that was controversial in the '50s! So, the concerned individual was either high on Jesus weed or never read the book but was relying on the high moral ground of hearsay. The fact that I read some of this book while defecating makes this all the sweeter.

Yeah, this post definitely went places...weird places.

Gorbulon's Fairy Repellant

I'm pretty sure those combination of words in the post's title have never been put together. I just thought I'd share that with you.

Nordic foot hors d'oeuvres.

I went to the dentist the other day. The hygienist was scraping away at my teeth and her stomach started growling really loud. This kept happening and I was having a real hard time keeping it together. I wanted to laugh so hard that it was becoming torture. This really made me wonder what was going through her mind during all of that. I'm just grateful that she didn't fart. It wouldn't be the smell, so much as how I would just completely lose it and run out laughing.

Mindless chowdering.

I was listening to the radio while driving around and this commercial starts, "Do you want to please your dog?" I was starting to think that this was a Jiff commercial, then the next line goes, "Well, get him a new water dish for Christmas!" Really? Dogs celebrate Christmas??? This will please him? What if your dog is a bitch? Let's not be sexist here, people. I think all a dog needs is a good master and a decent carpet for butt drag racing. Dog's practice coprophilia for crying out loud! What in the hell do you think their reaction to a new water dish, aside from being able to drink out of it, will be? Maybe I just am not in touch with my inner Barfy. One thing I do know for sure, black labs celebrate Kwanzaa. So be sensitive, folks.

Diagnose agnostic frosting.

I was thinking of sending out wedding announcements of me and myself photoshopped together for time and all eternity. If I were a polygamist, then it would be me, myself, and I. This would most certainly help my social standing around here.

Suffer mother's underpants.

You know what? People in the olden days used to fear gods and try to appease them in order to make their crops grow. They were especially on edge when things were tough, and worshiped their gods with evermore fervor. They would tip-toe around, so as not to piss of the deities. This sounds an awful lot like the workplace, especially now. Just replace the gods with management or whoever your supervisor, or supervisor's supervisor is. That's right, kiddies, worship your Good Old Desk! Thanks for that one, Harry.



Did I just end this post on a bummer? Yeah. Well, how about one more nonsense word combination to cheer you up? Ok.

Hover monkey!!!

Winter

I am a native of Phoenix, Arizona. Winter does not exist there. Well, your nipples might get a little hard and you might have to turn on the pool heater, but you get my drift. Winter exists here in the high desert/mountain, whatever-in-the-hell-this-place is. I hate it. I'm too fat and old to ski. Well, maybe not. It's too damned expensive. Yeah, that's the one. I mean, where have all the good times gone? Answer: summer. I'd make a lousy Eskimo. I think my body type points more towards "albino Samoan". Ah, the South Pacific islands! Never been, but I hear they have coconuts. I'm a bit bananas in my coconut. It's not the same thing as being crazy. Trust me, I've looked into it. It was looking back at me, if you know what I'm saying. I'm sorry, you don't know what I'm saying. It's just that winter sucks and snowmen are frozen clowns waiting to get me.

Okay, no more half asleep posting for this guy.

Sister

This is one of my favorite pictures of my late sister Bonnie. She is holding our nephew Robert, who is now a teenager. She wanted to have kids of her own but it never did happen. However, she helped out a ton with our oldest sister's children, especially Robbie.

I'm really not sure what to say at this moment. I miss her just as much as I did a year ago. While my emotions are not going through the shock that they did back then, the loneliness for her is always going to be with me. I'm not the most social guy in the world. I have a hard enough time letting people in as it is. However, when I make connections they are rock solid. Having to accept that one of my top people in the whole universe is gone leaves a huge hole in my life.

I didn't mean for this post to be about me. Bonnie, I hope that you are having the time of your afterlife. I mean that. I have thought hard about those last months of your life and what you went through. As much as we all thought that the help you were getting was working, I'm beginning to think that we sent you off to some fancy prison. You died and they got $60,000 dollars richer. Rehab just made your financial situation all the worse when you got out. Your job was laying down ultimatums and your therapists told us to not contact you. Talk about your classic cluster fucks. Who could succeed, given all of this?

I don't blame you. There are some people that I think didn't do their jobs, but I just wish you were here and healthy. I am grown up enough to know that you have moved on ahead of me. I will get on with my life down here. Till we meet again, sis, love you forever.

Nude beginnings

We all came into this earth nude. Some of you may be nude right now. Why is that? Do you like me in that sort of way? Come on, you can tell me.

I have been wondering, what if Willy Wonka and Chewbacca had a baby? I think it would be bad for the chocolate factory, but maybe they could start a traveling family band, like the DiFrancos or Cowsills. I'm assuming that Willy Wonka is a woman. It makes perfect sense when you think about it. Well, no, it doesn't make sense. Just humor me as always.

Have you ever been distracted by a Christmas tree? It's just a simple question. Don't get mad at me. I'm just really concerned that our lives may be in danger here. Accidents happen, you know.

You get only three funny paragraphs tonight. Sorry.

I wanted to thank all of you for your support during Performance Week. I still have one more clip left to share, but I am saving it for later. I have learned that too much of me isn't always a good thing. So I am showing some restraint, despite my need for attention. I am like a plant, people. Talking to me helps me grow. Also, it is not nice to use my planter as a urinal or to confuse me with a coat rack...unless you are into that sort of thing, which I'm not.

Nighty morning noon!

Performance week continues: A double header!!!

Performance week continues with a double feature performance by yours truly, Grunt. First off, I was asked by Rawbean in the last post comments what my influences are and my answer is simple: Jesus. Well, it is hard to nail that one down, but what I listen to doesn't always show up in my own music. Bob Dylan, Beatles, and Neil Young are givens, but guys like Jonathan Richman, Chris Bell, Robyn Hitchcock, Nick Drake, Gordon Lightfoot, Todd Rundgren, and Gram Parsons are definitely high on the list of things that I find creeping into my thoughts when writing songs. I'm leaving out a ton here, but this is what came to mind.

The first song "Losing It Again (For The First Time)" is one that came to me when I was mowing a lawn back in 2006. I had a strong creative streak that spanned from 2002-2007, especially in the middle. Anyway, the chorus came to me first and the rest just fell out of the sky when I went to record it. What is it about? Well, the concept is fairly clear and is about rediscovery. The story must of came from Satan. Yep.

The second song is "Words". This was another song that was written fairly close to the previous song. My rhythm hand is anxious on purpose because the mood should not be regretful, rather, it should be worried. The song and lyrics are like a nagging thought that has no resolution.

Oh, one more thing, I got to use a "star wipe" for the transition between clips. My life is now complete. Enjoy!

Performance week: You asked for it...sort of.

So, you are getting more clips of me howling and such. I like self defecating humor...uh, depreciating. Anyway, I've just been using my laptop's camera to record these clips, so getting the right mixture of guitar and vocals has been difficult. In this clip the guitar is way quiet and the vocals can be heard clearly. It's a good thing that I am not tone deaf or this would qualify as torture for all of us. Actually, getting a stronger vocal mix on this tune is more appropriate. This is a song that I wrote in the Fall of 2006 called, "Leaves Changing". This song is one that I used to sing a lot by myself when I was going through chemo the following year. I think when you listen to the song you will be able to understand why.

Grunt performs for you

So here it is, finally, right when it was the least requested: a performance by me, Grunt! I've posted some here and there about guitars, writing songs, and recording. I've also put up short clips of me demonstrating some of my guitars, but never have I posted any performances...until now. Why now? Because I have only about five readers max now. I figure that the collateral embarrassment will be minimal, so what the frock, eh?

The song I chose to perform was "Got Bad Luck". I wrote this little throwback-style ditty back in 2002 abouts. I've done quite a few versions of this song over the years. However, this version is closest to the first incarnation, since it is only me and my guitar and not recorded using multi-track devices. Old artists from the '50s, like Buddy Holly and Jimmy Donely, were in my mind at the time that this all came together. Enjoy!

Halloween is over

Halloween has been one of my favorite holidays. Did you know that it was the Irish that were primarily responsible for importing All Hallows Eve? We're all just pagans at heart, I feel, waiting for a chance to bark at the moon or some crazy shit. It's healthy, and, yes, I know that pagan's don't bark at the moon. Ed Gein would put on his best skin suit and dance in the moonlight, banging pots and howling. That's taking things a bit too far. Well, what do you expect when your mother tells you that all women are evil? Remember kiddies: syphilis, gonorrhea, and unwanted children are the wages of sin!

In other news, I have been feeling somewhat better. So many times I let myself get out of control with confronting my failings and imperfections. I do it to the point where I just don't feel right about anything at all. Sometimes it works: I get the kick in the ass that I need to change or do what needs to be done. Other times it doesn't: I really feel like a square peg crammed into a fat man's ass. Bad analogy...anal...ogy. Heh. Anyhooter, I've got to just do something different with my life instead of cursing myself for being fallible and for getting older.

It was my late sister, Bonnie's, birthday today, which made Halloween a bit more of a reverent occasion. Yeah, even on the Saturday that most kids went out, but wasn't the official day--it still reminded me of her. What I did this evening was to take my fat body on a hike up a local canyon and sit on a rock ledge for a dose of meditation. It got me thinking about the afterlife. We've all got our own ideas and beliefs about what goes on in the hereafter, but how can one really know? I think the best one can do is come to a relative conclusion based on faith, or lack thereof. The evidence in the cold, hard world would hit a dead end right after the last breath.

I have considered this at times, despite my beliefs in "cake and ice cream heaven". I guess if that were the case, then love and kindness is all the more important right now. You can't get away from the greatest commandment. Hell can reach you anywhere, while getting you nowhere at all. I've let my loss of my sister affect my state of being. This is natural, but I need to really think about what the rest of my life should be like without her around, rather than let it all unravel. I'm a lot like her in some ways and I get worried that I will self destruct as well, given the right circumstances.

I have to remember something, that I am capable of feeling great love for myself and others. This was evident in my last cancer exam that I went to earlier this month. When my oncologist and her nurse came into the room to see me and give me my report, I felt like I had done good. You could see how much happiness it gives them to have a patient do well. Really, the love that I feel for my doctors and the care that I feel from them has been one of the highest levels of love that I have ever felt. They saved my bacon. That is some serious shit. I have to remember those moments to know that my life can be about positive things and not just be a string of tragedies, depression, and loneliness. I just wish I could have realized all of this when I was young and pretty. It's a bit hard to carry out new plans when you are not a spring chicken anymore. But, hey, you know that I thrive on these kinds of odds, right? I think I shall start by doing some writing and recording again. I haven't done that in a long time. It's a start.

TIGF!!! 3 Corny jokes

What did the astronaut say to his girlfriend? I just need some space.

A sheriff tells the outlaw, who's waiting at the gallows for a pardon, that he hadn't heard whether or not he would he would be hung. The outlaw replies, "Well, no noose is good news."

This guy goes to see his doctor. He says, "Doctor! Doctor! I think I'm invisible!" The doctor shouts, "What?"

You got any?

Compatibility issues (Mr. Drama posts again)

I could have written many different posts right now. Hell, I could have written many posts this past while if I hadn't been in an utter fog of lost purpose and emotional sterility. This post had to be the one that came out of my mental uterus before succumbing to my regularly scheduled Netflix coma tonight. I am talking about the lack of real love compatibility with any living organism other than my own self loathing. However, my relationship with myself is bound to end in divorce the way things are going. I am the silent movie version of a drama queen. Nothing said, yet only typed in a clicking whimper. What in the hell am I talking about? How the fuck should I know? I only live here too. I think the worst of it is that I am the problem: a 120V plugged into 220V. The iron has caught on fire and is burning the house down. If I could just get my own personal converter, I think I could stop this and it would be safe for someone else to take residence inside me.

This is the part where I write something to make it all better, and it might be. This just needed letting out tonight. Read with care. I appreciate my friends who have stuck with me through my journey so far.

Mmmm, donut!

This video was taken last week. I happened to be up Big Cottonwood canyon, home of Brighton and Solitude ski resorts and decided to take a shortish hike up to this place, Donut Falls. It was a bit slick climbing up to the actual donut part of the falls and my hiking boots are worn out, especially the tread. So, I had a couple of fun experiences climbing up, finding out that it was time for new boots...and panties! Five points to whomever spots the Ian Dury reference in this post.

Sometimes...

Sometimes I like to drive down washboard dirt roads, singing Glenn Yarbrough tunes.

TIGF!!! (That's Incredibly Gay Friday)

Yes, it's been a very long time since I've done one of these. So, Jan Terri, she's one part Dr. Ruth, one part Estelle Costanza, with Whitney Houston aspirations. Yes, it's bad. Yes, it's funny. But damn, iffin it ain't catchy. She inspires me to make music, bad music.

Blooper Time

This is the reason everything hurts recently. Feckin' rocks. Let this be a lesson to watch where you are going, or else you too may have an effed up knee, arm, and left hand. Nothing serious. It just hurts like the dickens. Enjoy!

I'll feel you the rest of my life

It hasn't been quite a year since my sister Bonnie's death but the anniversary of certain events that led up to that untimely and tragic event have come and gone. I've had some dreams lately about my sis. The one I had recently was pretty awful to wake up from because in the dream I was experiencing an extreme joy of having found her alive. By whatever miracle that dream logic follows, my sister was there waiting for me. Somehow, in the dream, she had got lost and forgot who she was, finally remembered who she was and we found each other. I can't describe the joy that I felt. It was like something removed me right out of this miserable husk that I've been enduring ever since.

Who I am has changed. I don't know what I am anymore. I came across an old picture of my sisters surrounding me right before I was to set off for my mission to England. Bonnie was behind me on my left side caressing me. A lot of my faith came from looking at her and the way she looked at me in return. That caress and others like it were the things that kept me going. It just goes to show you how bad addiction can be that those moments a year ago between us weren't enough to turn things around. The terror in her eyes from those helpless moments is ever present in my memory. I was fool enough to want something or someone to stop it all and relieve Bonnie, my family and I of the responsibility. Someone did, but not in the way that I had wanted. I wonder if it was what she wanted.

It has been almost four years since I've written any songs. I was beginning to think that music was over for me and that dealing with the equipment end of things was my consolation prize for giving it a shot and realizing that it was all just good fun. I broke that spell this weekend. I wrote a song for my sister and sung it to her--I felt that she heard. It just about damn near killed me to actually do it and I don't think that I would ever have it in me to ever share it with anyone else. Something so personal reaches such a sacred level that it is only meant to exist in the temple of the moment.

My heart goes out to someone who knows\m/

More about corn and stuff

Just in case anybody was worried that I am a misogynist, well, towards female produce stand merchants, I will tell you what really happened. I passed by a corn stand everyday going to work this summer. It didn't matter who passed the stand, when this one girl was working it, she would try and wave at anybody and anything. She also did the hula a few times, of which I thought was funny. I would sometimes go to the stand just to see what was selling and did get samples.

This girl was nice and I did have a big BBQ that I had to get stuff for (I was part of the planning committee). So I figured that I would have a great source for all of my corn needs in this particular stand, not to mention "Fresh Corn" Girl.

The day came that I needed to buy my seven dozen ears of corn. I headed down to the stand and they weren't open. I really didn't have time to dick around waiting for them to show up. There was another stand in the town just south of where I was and headed down that way. The girl there was low key, but cute and helpful--very young, though. I got my corn cheaper by a dollar a dozen less. It was really good and sweet corn as well--a big hit at the BBQ.

The next time I saw Fresh Corn Girl, I decided to tease her a bit and told her that all of her waving at me was wasted and that I bought my corn somewhere else. She actually got a bit mad at me. I told her that I felt bad and that I would buy some melons later. Well, the joke was on me: the stand closed two days later and I never got to have Fresh Corn Girl melons. Damn, now who's gonna shuck with me?

Go ahead and point out what an idiot I am.

Toodles.

To the "Fresh Corn" stand girl

I hate to tell you this, but all of your waving at me over the summer was all for naught. I ended up buying my corn at another stand. You know, I didn't plan it, it just happened. Sorry. Thanks for the free samples of orange flesh melons, though.

Yours truly,

Grunt.

My niece thinks that I'm special

So my family had a get together this weekend and my sister from Idaho was down with two of her brood. Her youngest likes her uncle Merhtiman (one of my secret names) and likes to play board games using "Emily" rules. We played "Life" and one of her rules is that you can buy people. I wasn't sure if I should tell her of the evils of slavery right then and there, but I figured that so long as the people she bought just rode around in the car with her, it was all right. Her other rule was that you could crash your car into stuff, so long as you had auto insurance. We did bury the dead, just in case you were wondering. I suggested that the dead could come back as zombies, but she didn't like that idea.

Our other activity was to watch QVC with the sound off and to come up with voice overs for the people selling the products. During one of the commercials a product was being advertised with this baby that had all these swirls of light and sparkly things dancing around it. She asked me what was going on and I explained that it was the baby of the future. She liked that idea and kept telling everyone about the Future Baby and what fine things its coming would bring. She then started on about the old man of the future and so on and so forth.

So, after all of this fun and adventure she tells me that I remind her of this guy she knows. I'm all like, "What guy is this, then?" I'm thinking that some old dude is hanging around her. She replies, "Well, Danny is in the third grade." This relieved me and I thought that I was in for the typical "We hang out at recess and he can ride his bike real fast" kind of thing that kids think is cool. Nope. So I ask her what this Danny is like and her reply is choice, "Well, Danny is mentally retarded and has seizures and he walks like this (starts walking with a spastic limp). "So, you think that I'm a retard, huh?" She countered, "No, it's just that you kind of look like him and when you laugh it reminds me of him." I guess she sees past his disability and sees us both as human.

Well, I am sure this comes from a good place, but I honestly don't know what to do with it. I must admit that as bewildered as I am, I find this freakin' hilarious. I love my niece.

Because I haven't anything to say, I present....BATMAN!!!

Church: What's wrong with me?

Okay, those of you that know me know that I come from a deeply religious background. I always felt off of center when it came to religion, namely, church. I have no problem with God or Jesus. I have some problems with scripture. I have major problems with going to church. Oh, I'll go, but it isn't without me feeling like a cat getting a bath. Now, I've done some great things in the name of the lord. I served Him in England for a couple of years. To quote an Alice Cooper song, "I used to be such a sweet-sweet thing, until they got a hold of me. I've opened doors for little, old ladies. I've helped the blind to see." Well, the "they" is undetermined. Some would say that it is Satan, but I pretty much ignore him as I do with most people. I live a clean life and I really do feel close to God. So, why do church people think that there is still something off with me? To understand this you must know some things.

My church, The Latter Day Church of Momo, believes that there was a war in heaven prior to this existence on earth, and that if you made it to earth, then you were on the winning team. The war was Satan vs. Jesus. Satan wanted certain things which involved stripping ourselves of our free agency--we would be forced to be good-little God's children. Satan would then get all of the glory for this accomplishment. Jesus, being the older brother, was smarter and knew what side his bread got buttered and presented a plan of salvation that involved free agency. The glory would be given to God. Satan got all pissed off and got a bunch of people on his side and started shooting at us with lasers; well, lasers, and mostly persuasion to join him. Satan was able to get 1/3 of the host of heaven on his side. The other 2/3 of this host was saved and God was able to fit him with prosthetic legs. Yeah, no, well, the host was not a dude--it was God's spirit children. So, Satan's army was cast out of heaven down to earth, where he and his kind were to have a dominion of sorts and fake the fossil records in order to trick us into believing in science. What does all of this have to do with me?

Okay, first of all, I have found that Church likes to have me think that I have my free agency, but then it turns around and tells me that I have to do certain things. They seem to lack the confidence in Jesus' plan. Just tell me about it then let me decide. Don't keep coming over to my house and making me feel bad for really small stuff. This only makes me want to shoot you. Plus, if you are annoying me, church is the last place that I will want to be. Why? Because you will be there. For those of you that do know me, know that I am not a bad guy. I have been getting hounded lately for some very small stuff. When did all of this become a damned contest? Some people are church technicians. They prefer church and correlation meetings to everything else. I don't understand this at all. If heaven is as boring as church, then why would I want to go there? I just wasn't cut out for the starched life.

Well, I finally have come up with a reason for my inability to conform entirely to my church's demands: I suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from the War in Heaven. So, give me a freaking break, okay?

I'm infected with robots

Attention please

No, really, I need your attention. I thrive off of it. I'd make a video of me juggling if I knew how to juggle. I could throw shit at old people if you want. Suggestions?

Don't you just love those "How's My Driving? Please call: #####" bumper stickers? I love thinking of alternative versions of this sticker. How about this: "How Am I Driving?" I like this because it isn't quite clear if the person is asking how good of a job they are doing driving or if they aren't sure how exactly they are driving the actual car--it's a total mystery what is happening. The next best one would be "How Am I For Driving?" This is one that would go well on an immigrant's delivery vehicle. My favorite one is, simply, "I'm Driving?" I would really want to know what kind of conversation I'd be in for when I made that phone call.

I often wonder if ants recognize me--you know, they are all like, "Holy shit, there he is! Run!!!" I would like to think so, and not that they just run away from me because I am just another large, moving object. I would make a great ant god, me thinks.

I am not sure that one should have all their dreams come true. If I did, then I would riding a metal bucket down a steep road while dodging creepy crosswalk-sign people (the ones made out of geometric shapes). I really need to stop eating spoiled food before bedtime.

G'night.

Random, non-cripple-exploitative post

The subject matter of my last couple of posts probably kept a few of you away. Sorry.

I've been thinking about becoming an entrepreneur. One of my ideas is simply genius: Ghost massage parlors. The thing is that I really haven't decided whether the ghosts get the massages or they are the masseuse. The entertainment value of watching people massage thin air would be hilarious--kind of like a "groping" Tai chi. But then having a ghost give you a deep spiritual tissue massage would also be pretty far out, but maybe a bit too creepy for most. I think, in the end, I would only be able to offer massages by therapists wearing sheets and going "Oooooooooh" all the time. Well, come to think of it, that might actually work out.

I really haven't figured out what is so fancy about Fancy Feast. Do you really think that your cat is that hung up on aesthetics or is it just you pushing your own taste on your pet?

Here's a little song that I sing to cheer myself up at work:

Come listen to a story about a man named Jed,
He woke up naked in ol' granny's bed.
He went to the doctor and said, "It burns when I pee."
The doc said "Son, you got the drippin' G."
Gonorrhea that is, Neisseria gonorrhoeae, the clap, and shootin' gleet! Yee-haw!!!

Now, wasn't that fun?

HEY!!!

Don't take their parking spots, ok?

What my dreams are like

BTW, if this clip intrigues you, then you must see the restored version of the movie that it is from, Alexandro Jordorowsky's The Holy Mountain. It is guaranteed to offend and freak you out.

Faterwalls

This is a recent short hike that I went on. It is up a canyon directly above where I live. It takes less than five minutes to drive to the trail head and about twenty minutes of hiking to reach this place. So, this is a nice, quick trek that I do quite often and I thought it was about time to share it with you all.
This particular spot also has petroglyphs on a rock wall left by the native tribes in the area before the settlers came. The figures are simple and faded, as you can see, and most likely represent the mule deer of these mountains. Also, as mentioned in one of the videos, one of my friends fell down a portion of a waterfall in this canyon. He was trying to climb up the rocks along side the waterfall and his foothold was covered in dried moss. His foot was slightly moist and the combination of the moist shoe and moss led him to slip and fall. The falls where he fell are more like a death slide than a straight drop and he was stopped when he hit some rocks. That is a much longer and better story than I have time to tell here, though.

I also fell off of one of the smaller falls above the lower, big waterfall when I was only eight years old. My brother about shit himself because he thought I was going off of the big one right after the first drop. But, I clung to some grass and dug in my heels until my brother could get a tree branch down to me and pull me out. The area is nice, but you really can't mess around too close to the creek because of the steepness of the walls.

Anyway, this is just a little something for you all until I can live a more interesting life and blog about that.

Blahland

I wish, just for once, my life could be like a movie of my choosing. Really, I think I would like my life to be a cross between It's a Wonderful Life and KISS Meets the Phantom of the Park. My life seems to have hit a big slump, is what I'm saying. So many extreme things have happened to me that my life has resembled a movie, I guess. But those movies suck and usually tank at the box office. Anyway, I'm having a moment of regret about parts of my life. When I do this to myself it isn't good. What purpose does this self bashing do? Maybe I like it. Yes, I'm sick like that.

Forget you read this post and go watch the smoking baby on Youtube. Toodles.

The Hiccup Man

Although he may not exist in real life, the world needs him: The Hiccup Man. His hiccups never cease. He uses his super-megaphone to broadcast his message in major metropolises around the world. "HIC! HIC! HICCUP!! HI-COUGH!!! THE END OF THE WORLD IS NIGH! HICCURP!!!!!!!!"

Oh, you probably thought that he'd cure your hiccups or something like that. Yeah, that would be cool too. I guess he could just sneak up on people and scare the shit out of them and have a ready supply of paper bags. It makes sense that he cannot be cured of his hiccups because he must have some sort of tragedy that caused him to be the way he is. I think it had something to do with a warm Dr. Pepper and witnessing the murder of his parents.

Yeah, something like that.

Home school

There's this guy that I have the misfortune of working with. He is not the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree. This last week he was talking to another co-worker and told him that he was going to save a bunch of money by having his kids home schooled. He explained that he wouldn't have to buy his kids as much clothes and would save money in not having to drive them to and from school. He then explained that when the teacher that the school district sends, comes to teach his kids at home, he can work day hours because he won't have to be there anymore.

Please tell me you see how this man is retarded.

Employees must wash Hans

I'm willing to pleasure anyone who can rid me permanently of my back pains. I'm just putting that out there.

Zippity-doo-dah

I like birds. I had a set of parakeets (collect all twelve!) when I was young. There was something about them that I understood better than dogs or cats. Well, it seemed that they understood me more. Anything that can produce interesting songs and noises catches my interest.

On Sunday, I was in a parking lot sitting in my truck. The window was rolled down and I was checking out the view of the snow pack on the mountains. Then this finch flies up to my side view mirror and is checking me out. I really thought this was neat. It stayed there for about a minute and then flew over to my bed box and was checking me out from the rear window.

Today I was fixing sprinklers and had a pigeon as a companion for three hours. This little guy would walk right up to me and peck around. It would then fly away for a bit and return to me and hang out for a bit longer. This was the routine that the pigeon kept for that period of time.

I think I'm becoming Uncle Remus.

Escape from uterus anniversary day

It was the celebration of my triumphant breakout from my mother's womb on Saturday. Yes, this is further proof that I am hopelessly weird. I can't say that I did anything particularly exciting for my birthday. I did find a cool new Mexican joint. I saw Iron Man 2: Electric Bugaloo. I went to my favorite vinyl shop and picked up a set of J.S. Bach's complete Brandenburg Concertos. The set is an original pressing from the early sixties--mucho grams and high fidelity. The set lists for $150 but I got it for $30. Classical music usually gets over looked and, therefore, sits on the shelf longer. You can find these gems heavily discounted--if you are into that sort of thing.

I did get a lot of happy birthday wishes from my facebook buddies. I guess that counts for something. The depression was mitigated, at least. I bring about a lot of my own loneliness. This is behavior that I picked up from my dad. The times when I need people the most is when I typically run and hide. It doesn't make much sense. I get this sensory overload and as hard as being solitary can be at times, it can be calming too. I think I made this sound bad. I'm just trying to do an honest post here. Well, I'm not always like this, just so you know. Spending time in my dark cave and shouting at the walls is only fun for so long.

Tsop

Here's something that happened to me last Friday. I was coming home from work and I pull into the duplex driveway, whereupon I am met by my neighbor's alcoholic son. He looked like he was in dire need of some help, so I rolled my window to see what could possibly be the matter. That's when he shoves something brown and wet into my mouth, shouting, "What's wrong, too much salt?" I got rather angry with the guy and asked him what in the hell he thought he was doing. He then accused me of giving him a dirty look and called me a son of a bitch. He then apologized and then asked, "Maybe it was too much vinegar." If you are still wondering what the brown thing was, it was a mushroom. Yes, my life is one long funland adventure ride.

Don't ask me how I managed to kill a rat with a lawn mower, but I did, and without knowing it. I tried to mow the lawn right before the sun went down. About halfway through it started getting dark and I had to rely on my spider senses to finish the job. I had my Ipod set on stun, so I could barely hear the mower. Well, I get out today to head out to work and look down on the lawn to see a big ol' rat laying on the lawn all chewed up. True and gruesome to boot.

Check out the latest incarnation of my Black guitar.
I had to ditch the Squire neck (shown below the guitar) because it just didn't fit my hand well enough and the back bow would never allow the setup of lighter gauge strings. I picked up the all maple neck that you see in the picture from a company that does Fender licensed replacement necks. While it did require full fret level, crown and dress, setup, and a nut install (hee-hee), it feels right and is super solid. Maple fret boards are brighter sounding, but are much faster in feel--slick. Plus, I like the plain headstock without any logos. I'm the same way with my t-shirts.

I'm having a retro crush on this lady lately:Of those who know a bit about Grace Slick know that she, unfortunately, went bat-shit crazy and turned into a scary old lady. But this is a retro crush, people. I personally like the original version of "Somebody To Love" from her first group, The Great! Society, a hair better than Jefferson Airplane's. They're both great, but the original had a slower tempo that had a bit more swing to it. It kind of reminds me of Shocking Blue's song "Venus"--the one that was covered by Bananarama.

Who do you have a retro crush on?

Just some shit

I once learned from a Cheech and Chong record that it might be possible to see God if you play Black Sabbath at 78 speed. Someone on Youtube was gracious to do something else with this old gem from Focus. I think it might summon the demon Santa Claus.

It's official! I am now a great uncle. But, I have come to this post unprepared. I have no pics to post. Anyhooter, his name is Corvin and is about the cutest little man I've ever seen. Details to come.

There was this coach that I had in junior high named Coach Downs. I feel bad that I don't remember his first name. I often wonder about this guy. What were his dreams outside of physical education? Did he ever want to be a famous writer, actor, politician, or, maybe, a singer? I can see him doing an album of Perry Como, Johnny Mathis, Tony Orlando, and Andy Williams covers, simply titled, "A Touch of Downs". He would have his hopes dashed when people fail to understand the witty athletic word play in the title--most of the public assume that he is just mildly retarded. The cruel irony is that he unwittingly becomes a celebrity out of pity because of his "condition", then soon after exposed by Oprah to be an imposter and not a 6'11" singing retard. Yes, these are the inner thoughts of a genius.

I bid you toodles.

Wa Me?

There's this Asian restaurant out in West Valley called Wa Me. Without fail, I succumb to my inner dork and shout "Ya You!" There is also an Asian supermarket near this place called Tay Do. I always imagine Buckweat as the greeter there.

Peter O'Toole, in the film The Ruling Class, said something to the effect that when he prayed he eventually realized that he was God because he was, in fact, talking to himself. If you like loony movies, that one is required watching.

I've been getting into some strange folk music from the late '60s-early '70s. I thought that I'd share a bit with you. This song is dedicated to Vera.

I wonder what kind of painting my blog friend Julie S. could interpret from this song.

Lactations from the heart

My dad turned 80 on Easter. I gave him a book for his present. The book is titled, "How We Die". Fortunately, he got the joke.

If I were a mad scientist I would like to genetically engineer a few things just for my own personal amusement. I think it would be pretty far out to mix a cat with a rabbit--a "cabbit", if you will. It would have the body and legs of a rabbit with the head, fur, and claws of a cat. The other animal would be a chimpanzee sporting a dog's head, personality, and coat. I think that many women would no longer desire to have offspring if such an abomination were to be conceived. Just think if your Labrador could come up to you and grab your hand while eating a jerky treat like a chimp would eat a banana? I think your ovaries would explode. The weird part for men would be that this creature would not only sniff your crotch or butt as a greeting, but would be holding your testicles or spreading your cheeks as it did so. Creepy.

Face it: Nutella is really just a fancy name for "chocolate nut butter".

That is all for now.

BTW, I had my two-year cancer free milestone today. It was made official with a rather extensive set of tests and exams. I barfed after having lunch because my anxiety level was so high. Lamb curry, Diet Coke, and tiramisu does not taste as good coming out as it does going in. Lunch was between my PET/CT scan, labs, and my physical exam with my oncologist. So, I was still in the dark at that point about my results. I wouldn't have been so wound up if my health didn't get off to a bad start this year with the bout of pneumonia that dogged me for so long. The symptoms were so similar in some ways that I had to really fight hard to keep my sanity in check. So, this big milestone was greeted with trepidation on my part, not knowing for sure if I had relapsed. I didn't: the scans were great and my overall health was good. I do need to work on a few things and my doctor is aware of the amount of physical and emotional strain that I've been through with my grief, so I was given a nice bit of counseling from her. I promised to cry "uncle" if things got too hard for me this time around. Maybe I can start having a life. I think I am allowed.

Post #800 (at my own expense)

This is a momentous post. Too bad I don't have much to say. I was even having these really profound thoughts today. This is why I shouldn't blog when I am really tired.

If you all want to watch a really funny and extremely weird Japanese film from the late seventies, see Hausu (House).

I get no respect from the new lady tenants. They like to have their friends park in my spot. They give me these looks like I'm some kind of weirdo untouchable. And to think that I fixed their washer machine. Screw them! I'm going to unleash a raccoon in their place and hope that it gives them rabies. I'm then going to tell my neighbor's alcoholic 55-year-old son (of whom I'm quite fond of) that they want to play catch with him--he's quite obsessed with baseball, being quite the athlete in his day. The first time that he yells at them for being "too good for him" they'll promptly move out.

I'm convinced that it is me in many cases and not other people. Why else would they have happy lives and I am still just a "curiosity"?

Some days I want to live in the hills, away from people. This thought doesn't last very long because there are still plenty of people that I wouldn't want to be without in my life. I don't care how difficult and unappealing to the masses I become, I'm not ever going "full hermit". I just wish there was a permit that I could get to allow me to legally throw shit at people that annoy me.

It's easier to be left alone, now that my youth and good looks are gone. Seriously, I've done some comparisons to what I looked like three years ago and now. It is depressing. My reward for fighting so valiantly through these recent trials is to look like an overweight hobbit which suffers from gigantism. From now on I am confident that I will no longer be taken for serious consideration as a sexual object or for jury duty. I will now have to open myself up to the fetish community and start wearing flowing robes for comfort purposes.

After you are done with either laughing at me or pitying me, I am going to start getting myself in shape for hiking season. I've located my old Nordic Track skier in the storage unit of the damned and I have already ordered and received the necessary parts to fix it. I'm hoping to at least achieve a level of fitness that will get the old crazy woman at the bus stop to start noticing me.

I believe the term I have used in the past is "flupee" for how I have been feeling lately. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go catch a raccoon.

Peripheral

It's right there peeking around the edge, hiding from you, but keeping tabs. You turn to catch a straight-on look and it vanishes.

I have had some weird days lately.

Quitting

There are things that I am quitting. Most of you probably think that it is this blog. It isn't, although a mercy killing has crossed my mind on occasion. No, not blogging, but I don't feel as prolific as I once did in this area. I can live with this.

I was put on medications the summer after my cancer treatments ended. I was going through severe anxiety and depression because of my doctor's feeling that the cancer had come back. The medications served their purpose. I felt better. I also noticed that other negative aspects of my emotional reality had gone away or had been lessened to a manageable degree. This was great. After awhile, though, I have noticed that some very brilliant parts of me are now burnt of a more hazy luster. My desires and ambitions seem lost. My genius bogged in the peat of chemical regulation. I'm quitting the drugs and seeing what happens next.

Room Smell Bad

A project of mine caught fire in my room today. It is a vacuum tube hi-fi that I started building for my brother a few years ago. It has been tucked away in my closet for some time and I thought it was about time to finish it. Well, I can say this: it isn't working, but it sure is exciting to turn on. I told my brother that I had installed pyrotechnics in the amplifier for the sole purpose of playing our KISS records. He didn't buy it. Oh well, it is still salvageable. I will need to post pictures of it when I get it working.

The great lunch meat conspiracy (and other random crap)

Hot dogs and baloney, or bologna for the more sophisticated sandwich aficionado, are the same damn thing! The only difference is that one accidentally got flattened under some meat packer's boot and violà, baloney. I'm talking conspiracy here, folks, possibly of Oscar Mayer proportions. At the very least, we are at a Hormel level meat alert. These same corporations, or "Big Meat" as I call them, also think that they can pass off baloney that got peppercorns stuck in it as salami. Oh, the humanity! Hey, one other thing, why can't you peel off that damn red thing around my lunch meat? Sometimes I am too lazy to do it myself and I've ingested the ring on occasion. Was this the real cause of my cancer? I say, probably, with a chance of hardly, but "yes" all the same. It makes me feel better to think so. I still can't quit you. Stay gold and meaty for me, my loves.

On to other things.....

I am such a good, good boy. I did my taxes while I have been off of work with the nue moan yah! As for the pneumonia, I am better. I don't know how much better I need to be, but I am doing pretty damn fine. Work awaits: The Grunt needs his monkey job. Besides, if I am not there who will my boss watch work?

If I am going to be able to read entire novels again, I need to hire a helper monkey to poke me with a stick every time I start to drift off.

If you are a server/waiter and want to get bigger tips take this tip from me: limp.

Are you aware of the so-called reptilian alien master-race that has infiltrated the highest levels of society? Me neither, until I have had the time to waste on Youtube this past while. My advice to those who are in fear of these shape-shifting creatures: Befriend Eskimos and join the Polar Bear club. Remember, reptiles are cold-blooded and probably would not be involved in these social circles. If they did, just look for the person with the most coats on. Bingo! There's your reptile.

This has been your weekly blog post. This is Theodore Grunt the III signing off. Thanks for your continued support.

Knowing is healing

I just received this photo of my sister Bonnie and her boyfriend Jack from him. This was taken when she was healthy and happy at a charity event. This was the life that I envisioned my sister having again after rehab. Of course, as you have all read on several occasions, the outcome was not as we had hoped.

The reason for this post is not that I feel I need to keep living in this tragedy. I write this post because it helps me grieve. It helps me to see that my sister was happy and beautiful and not a horrific addict or corpse. It is also important, I feel, to show that addiction can take down anybody and is not a respecter of persons.

The final death certificate was released for Bonnie. This waiting to find out how she died and why had a great deal to do with my heavy grief. I have felt enormous responsibility for the events because a brother is supposed to be there for his sister. I wasn't there at the very point that she needed me the most. Of course, this feeling has nothing to do with the constraints of reality, but it is the feeling that I have had to deal with nonetheless.

A mixed intoxication of Zanax and alcohol caused my sister's death. It helps to know this because I was worried that she might of suffered while she passed. I also worried that she committed suicide. It shouldn't matter because of the duress she was under, but it helps me to know that she wasn't intent on leaving me behind. The biggest help of knowing is that this was something that could have happened even if she was staying with family. My sister had a habit of mixing alcohol and her prescriptions. Whether it was to get more loaded or just carelessness, it doesn't matter; it happened. I couldn't have stopped this from happening. The simple fact is that she probably had no idea that she was dying and simply drifted away.

Bonnie had a hard life. It wasn't easy growing up in my family. All of us kids have had our own ways of medicating. Some of us overcame it and some of us still try to fill that hole. I am starting to see, that despite her disease, she really was a role model for me. She took the risks that she felt were going to lead her to a happy life. It doesn't matter that she fell during her journey--she fought the whole way. Knowing this is healing.

Where did it go?

I am no longer funny. Funny looking, maybe, but not hi-larry-us. I do have my off the cuff moments still, but I cannot craft much of the funny anymore. It's not that my outlook has become bleak after surviving cancer, trying to help my sister in her strive for sobriety, losing her, and all the other seriously hard stuff that surrounded it all. My reality has shifted in a way that I cannot explain.

I have accepted much of what has happened; although, I do find it inconceivable at times that my sister is dead. I have this weird sensation, that spelled out, sounds rather pessimistic on the face: There's not much in this world that really matters. The weird part about it is that this feeling is rather liberating. Now, only if this feeling came with a pension fund.

I'm probably talking out of my ass here, but I figure that being able to talk out of my ass in any language is pretty remarkable, fuck!

What's so new about pneumonia?

Wow, my life has been a bowl of cherries! Yeah, that "cold" that I got three weeks ago has been officially diagnosed by my doc as pneumonia. I was starting to wonder why my lungs were getting all stiff and hurty. Actually, the whole experience resembled the symptoms of my lymphoma and it made me feel a tad paranoid. Anyway, I am feeling better since getting some much needed antibiotics and rest. I hope to be finally done with this crap soon.

Your randomness

There's this lady who can't get herself a man because she is very ugly. She decides to consult a fortune teller to see what the future holds for her and see if there is any hope that she will get a man. The fortune teller sees something and proceeds to tell the woman that she will have many men in her next life, as she will be quite beautiful. Somewhat distraught by this prospect, she is determined to end her lonely life and get on with her next incarnation. So, she finds a bridge spanning a big river and jumps off. Without realizing, she falls safely onto a pile of bananas on boat. Still dazed by the fall she excitedly shouts, "One at a time boys! One at a time!"

I swear that I am going to sell off some of my musical gear. I don't like the fact that all signs are pointing to me becoming a hoarder, if I don't act fast. I always say that I am going to get rid of stuff and then I look into those puppy dog eyes of my gadgets and let them stay. Please, God, help me.

My Netflix queue is sending me a bunch of foreign films. I know that I was the one who put them on the queue in the first place and that I could change the queue. But I feel like it is my duty to carry out the viewing of my queue as it has been initially organized. It is fate, I feel, that made me choose this queue. However, I am getting weary of reading movies now. On the plus side, I can act like a film snob, having viewed most of Ingmar Bergman's films. Yeah, that will get me laid.

That is all for now. Good day.

A video clip from my October trip to Escalante

This video was taken at Jacob Hamblin Arch in Coyote Gulch, about forty miles southeast of Escalante, Utah. The hike was great, once you got out of about five miles of sandy washes. This canyon's walls are massive. It is hard to get the correct scale of things in this video clip.

Escalante is riddled with terrain like this, including many various death traps and fun stuff. It's my kind of place. Just take a lot of water with you and don't trust the boy scouts. They kind of go a bit feral when they are set loose out here.

Enjoy!

What's that smell? (Featuring guitar video)

Have you ever had one of those days where you smelled like toast? I'll be damned if I didn't have one of those days today. Being sick sucks rotten vegetables. I need to invent the "Face Diaper". There's this guy that every time he sees me he mentions the dangers of pornography. I'm thinking that he owns a secret stash of Good House Keeping magazines, and his wife doesn't know anything about it. I really hope that they have kids. I did a crap video of me showing of the guitar build. I didn't make it from raw materials. It was a build made up from castaway parts and cheap stuff. I have been sick so I am not in the best mood to play guitar or look presentable. Enjoy!

I'm trying

I never knew that this loss of my sister would be so hard for me. It really takes effort to break out of the grief. I've had some pretty horrible dreams where my parents keep telling me to go find my sister. I tell them that she's dead and they respond that she isn't and that I need to go and find her. When I go and look for her all of the negative aspects of the last few months fill my dream.

The extreme loneliness that comes after the sadness and shock, well, that is something that I never expected to feel. A couple of weeks back I made the mistake of driving by her old apartment building. I looked up at the apartment and saw that it was still empty. I don't know why that messed with me, but it did.

I have had some good things happen. My quarterly checkup with my oncologist was great. I am in good health. I've met some people in the past couple of weeks that freshened my hope a bit. I am forcing myself to play the guitar. Maybe I will write songs again and record, who knows? I guess the old cliche is true: it just takes time.

"The Joy of Blogging" by Maynard J. Simmons

Hello. I'd first like to thank Grüntark Q. Sherman (his real full name) for allowing me to share with you my remarks concerning blogging. Secondly, have you ever wondered if there are donkeys on the moon? If so, did you know that you can blog about such musings? Also, did you know that doing such a thing can create joyful thoughts in your mind? Friends, this is the joy of blogging.

I once was lost and now am found. I credit my parents putting my face on milk cartons for this happy event. Even better, I blogged about this experience. It made my toes tingle and my hair curl from excitement. Yea, my heart was full, and verily I felt as though the rapture had settled in my pants with every fiber of my being. Wait...that might have been Fiber One and beans that caused a rupture in my pants. I get a little confused when I'm happy.

There is a reason that I touch on this subject, briefly. I feel that my dearest friend Grüntark has lost the joy of blogging and is focusing too much on the ass end of life. I've witnessed him eat a whole bag of cheese curds and a jar of green olives while watching Little House on the Prairie reruns. The thing is that he keeps yelling "whore" and throwing throw pillows at the TV. What's more confusing is that it is only when Charles is on screen.

I think Grüntark would like to hear from all of you. It would cheer him up. It might even get him to blog more frequently. It might even get him to stop calling Mr. Ingalls a whore. Yes, he may once again experience the joy of blogging.

~Maynard.

I like the taste of ham in the morning.

I really think that Christopher Walken would be great as the Shamwow and Slapchop pitchman.

You know when you've been surfing the web too late at night when you start happening upon celebrity death pics. Don't ask.

I've been getting really deep in to the whole "Paul is dead" conspiracies lately. But I believe Paul when he answered Chris Farley's question on SNL, that, "I wasn't really dead." My take on all of it is that the Free Masons are behind it all and that 2012 has something to do with it. Ringo shot JFK! For realsies and realsies.

I finally finished the "Black" guitar, after much hassle. It isn't a dream to play because I had to put such heavy gauge strings on it to pull the neck forward that I can feel my metacarpals and phalanges stressing out when I try full step bends. The neck also has one dead spot on the 12th fret of the G string. A dead spot happens when the resonance in the neck cancels out the frequency of the note played--you get a fast decay of the note played. Fortunately, this is the only spot and I can play around it. That said, the guitar is pretty nice all around. The point of the guitar project was to use what parts I had laying around and whatever other parts needed would be acquired cheapity-cheap. I have proven that a good-playing and good-looking guitar can be had for under $100, so long as you put it together, set it up, and work the kinks out of it yourself. Good luck with that, though.

As for the new year, I haven't got any plans, so I'm up for whatevers.