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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!
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 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.
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 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.
I have so many cards to write. I am not a card person. I am not even good at giving gifts. My thing is to make people feel special on a daily basis by listening to them and offering my help. Maybe that isn't enough. This time of year makes me feel a bit inferior. The situation with my brother in law has improved a bit. My sister wants him to recover, but she isn't sure if she wants him back. Over the past couple of weeks some major skeletons have come crawling out of his closet and it has been a huge deal for all of us to take in. I don't make any apology for my feelings of wishing that he'd passed at certain moments, thinking that my sister and her kids and family would be much better off. However, he is responsible for two things that I value a great deal: my niece and my nephew. There will always be that part of me that will love him for that. So, I have decided to give him a fair chance to change his life, at least from my dealings with him.I'm really pissed off about this guitar neck that I bought off of Ebay. I finally got some time to work on this parts-o-caster project of mine and this neck that I got for a bargain turned out to be a massive shit stick. The truss rod--the thing that adjusts the neck relief--is stripped and I can't get rid of a bad fret buzz because of it. On the plus side, I now have an electric sitar. Oh well.I was eating at a cafe on Ogden's infamous 25th street today. While it is now all done up as an urban attraction, it still is home to many a hobo. This cafe has these big, one-way front windows. A particularly fired up hobo put his face up to the window and started shouting all manner of profanities. The best part was that nobody was sitting in the section that he was tearing a new one to. I like a bit of entertainment when I dine.I think you've had enough.
Winter is a curious season for men. One step out makes you smaller, and a while back in the warmth makes you tall. I'd settle for something in between.You spend all day working outside in the frosty winter air. Skip in for a pee break and the thought that your scrotum had sprouted a toadstool gives you a panic. It takes you a moment to realize that the hookah-smoking caterpillar was not able to be summoned from his lair. While it was disconcerting at first, you take comfort in knowing that no matter how big or small your caterpillar may be, I can always go pee.The Wonderland doesn't stop there. You should see it when the Mad Hatter stops by for tea....Change places! Sometimes you grow too big for your house and an appendage pops right out of the front door.Playing chess with the queen...well, strategy is essential in checking your mate.After all the adventure is done, there is still the Cheshire Cat grinning his grin from within. So pleased with the deed....You can take the smile from the cat, but not the cat from the smile!
I want to start my own tribute band. I want to call it "My Morning Bowel Obstruction".There's these identical twins from Mexico, one named Juan and the other is named Amal, that are attending university in the U.S. Because their family is very poor, the boys have to take turns visiting their family on the holidays every year. This year Juan came back home to visit during the holidays. His mother, while happy to see Juan, said, "I love both of my boys so much, but I really am sad that I do not get to see Amal. I miss him!" Juan, trying to console his emotional mother, said, "But mama, if you've seen Juan, you've seen Amal!" You really need to say that one out loud in order to get it.I have a coworker that has been telling me how much weight he's lost over the past three months. Every day it's, "I've lost forty pounds!" I am happy for him, but I am rather weary now of his constant bragging. So, today, when he started on his little kick about his weight loss "Man, I've lost forty pounds", I remarked, "What, since yesterday?" He didn't find this very amusing. However, I did and so did every one else in the room. That is all that matters.Updates:The moving of my sister Bonnie's belongings from her apartment is finished. I had a lot of help and the move went well. We are storing it in my parent's storage unit for now. This was easier than I expected. I had thought that it would be hard emotionally to move all of her stuff out, but it gave me a feeling that I was helping her. Also, when all of the stuff was moved out, all that was left was an empty apartment--it was no longer that "place" that I had found her in such misery this past year.My brother in law, Paul, had an accident at work on Monday. He was working on the roof of the convenience store that he manages and the ladder slipped on the ice as he was descending. He fell fifteen feet and landed on a cement Jersey barrier chest first. Monday he was listed as critical, but has since improved and is conscious. He broke all of his ribs; a rotator cuff; internal injuries to his liver, intestine, and kidney. His heart was unstable for awhile, but the doctors were able to get him to pull through. There was some good that came about all of this--provided he recovers--in that the doctors discovered that he has been a diabetic for some time and that he has cirrhosis of the liver from his "I'm not an alcoholic. I only have two beers (and all of that whiskey that nobody knows about) a week." drinking habit. You'd think that after having been a poll bearer for his sister in law, who died as a result of her alcohol addiction, would have had a wake up call then. Well, he is starting to realize that he needs to change his life and said that he will give up his drink and chewing tobacco. Who said Mormons don't know how to have a good time?
The healing begins...If you are part of the growing homeless population, never fear, there is hope. You may think that you are jobless and without hope for a bright future, but you can join the ranks of "independent", self-employed/appointed toll booth operators of our nations highway off ramps. Yes, it can be you, the guilt-inducing village idiot, that comes up to my car and demands funds for your unfortunate circumstances. It has become such that when getting on the highway that I would rather drive to the middle of Death Valley and start selling beef jerky from a trailer just to get away from you. I must tell you a story that happened to me today. I was in this situation and I gave the man a few bucks only to have him come back to my truck and demand more money. When I didn't give him any more money, he started cussing at me. Yay! Charity is fun.Being the youngest, I am handed the scraps of my deceased sister's estate. I am okay with this. My oldest sister gets a fairly nice car and I get...shampoo. However, this is no ordinary shampoo, folks. No, this is vegan shampoo. Even better, it is vegan shampoo that gives your hair more body! This sounds a bit paradoxical: going vegan usually involves losing body. But hey, I'm open minded and went ahead and tried it. The first day seemed to go well enough. My hair smelled better--they say that vegans do--and I did have a rather shiny coat of fur atop my noggin. It was after day three that things got a little strange. I woke up and found a whole pile of spare rib bones on my pillow. I think my hair is trying to tell me something.I was angered the other day by somebody referring to my sister as being a "drunk". It was then that a rather strange thought came to my mind: I am going to get a time machine and punch you in the face two days ago, you ponce! I have no idea what going back in time would actually do, so I thought this was a bit silly. Then I was cut off by some douche bag on the highway and I said it this time, "I am going to get a time machine and punch you in the face two days ago, peckerwood!" It was then that I realized that if I punched them in the present it would be a little too on the nose, no pun intended. If I came up to them two days earlier and said that I had a message from the future (I'd wear a space suit disguise or something) then punched them, then they would be mystified and shit their pants. It would just be great fun to use a time machine for such senseless purposes. I guess I wouldn't need a time machine to wear a space suit and punch people. It probably has the same effect from their point of view.I have come to the conclusion that Bigfoot is just a ghost wearing a fur coat.
I can't choose everything that I experience. I can choose how I use my experience.The funeral was sad, beautiful, and spiritual. My eulogy went well, I am told. I really felt something strong surrounding me as I spoke. Bonnie had a great send off.Going back to work was hard. Having people ask me how she died brought back bad memories for me. I am starting to feel that her death was suicide, but committed under extreme impairment--most likely an accidental overdose. If she was cognizant of her actions, then she would have left a letter and had some kind of "send off" for herself. She loved her family too much to leave without saying something.I can hear her call my name out of my sleep, startling me awake.I feel guilty sometimes for wanting her back. She shouldn't ever have to go back. She completed her mortality. Now she knows what only an immortal can know.
This is my big sister Bonnie. Actually, she wasn't that big, only 5'4". This was a photo taken by my youngest older sister, Debbie, this June. They went on a trip together after Bonnie completed a stay at the "Unie" detox clinic. I really want to get across the fact that my sister was making a strong effort to kick this thing. This is why this death comes as a great shock to me and my family.Bonnie had struggled off and on with alcohol the past 20 years of her life. Mostly, she was just a functioning alcoholic, in that she really kept it hid and it didn't seem to hinder her much. Our family didn't even know about her struggle until after this Christmas. She spent years on the wagon, then would slip off, then get back on again for a long time. What made the difference this time was that she now had a gastric bypass that wouldn't allow her stomach to metabolize the alcohol. Essentially, the alcohol would go straight to her liver. What triggered all of this was a boyfriend that got her back into drinking. This guy was no louse at all, it's just that I think that he and my sister had no idea the potential danger of her starting to drink again. After he left to go back East to where he worked it really was too much for my sister. She was also working hard, sixteen-hour days with a new federal judge with a heavy case load. Drinking is great fun if you are already happy and not alone. Drinking is quite the opposite when you are alone and trying to douse your depression. Add to that mix alcoholism and the other conditions and alcohol is downright diabolical.Bonnie was a sweet person. She was always trying to keep me on the straight and narrow when I was growing up. I did not know of a more tender-hearted human on this earth. She struggled a great deal throughout her life with depression and with high expectations. Her intellect was incredible and her academic achievements were to match. Bonnie was an English Literature major at the University of Utah and graduated with honors. She worked for law firms, the state supreme courts, and the federal courts. As I said earlier, my sister was very feeling. However, this sensitivity was also a great burden to her. She often felt bombarded with noise and light. Other people's idiosyncrasies would become unbearable for her. The problem was that she would feel an enormous amount of guilt over her becoming annoyed with others. The court cases that she was involved in haunted her a great deal. The images of child rape, child pornography, and murder cases were unwelcome guests in her mind. All she wanted to do was to assist in the justice system to see things put right.Although Bonnie was beautiful and always had the attention of men, she felt very self conscious of her body. I think a great deal of women do. I had a hard time convincing her of how beautiful she was. When she wasn't drinking she struggled with eating disorders. I always wished that there was someway that I could have waved a magic wand and made her struggles go away, but that is incredibly selfish thinking. She gained a lot from overcoming and dealing with those trials and I gained a lot of wisdom and love from trying to help, even though I never quite knew what I was doing. To wave a wand is to remove yourself, your emotion, and your toil--it is not being. A life without sacrifice is akin to the life a comfortable house pet.Bonnie loved kids and wanted so much to be married and have a small family of her own. Recently, one of her goals that she made in rehab was to help give aide to children in Africa. On our last trip together to make her court appearance she kept saying that she was a "Freaking Rainbow" and then would proceed to hug me while I tried not to careen off of the highway going 80 miles an hour. We would all laugh about it after I had regained control of the car again. The best part was when she slipped up and said that she was a "Fucking Rainbow" and then said, "Sorry mom". After rehab, she was happy to have a chance at life again and had many goals and plans to carry out. It was not to be, however. I never knew how much pain a person could feel until I woke up Tuesday morning. My grief had grown exponentially from the previous night. I had no idea the physical pain, on top of all the other expected pain, I would feel from this loss. This morning was a bit better, but I still had the "sledgehammer" of grief feeling in my gut. My heart is heavy and I spend a lot of time wondering why. I am really sad that she was alone when she died and that I wasn't there to do something before it happened. I am also sad that I will not be able to see her body, as it was not presentable for viewing. I have no doubts that she is happy now and in a good place. It is just going to take me awhile to accept that in my heart and to overcome my grief.
She just had her birthday this Halloween and was out of rehab the same day. That Monday she was overwhelmed with being terminated from her job. She closed herself off from everyone after that. I found out tonight that she has passed away. My parents made a lot of calls today to her apartment manager, the rehab facility, and finally the police. The police found her body in her apartment. She probably passed away on Friday sometime. I don't know the full details yet and won't know until the autopsy and investigation are completed. But the officer that my parents talked to said that there were no notes and that it looked as if her body had just failed.I don't want to preach. Alcohol is such a curse to many in this world. She deserved better and I feel she at least does have that now. She was in so much pain. As good of a human being as she was, she had to deal with so much hardship in her life. She didn't deserve any of it. She led such an honorable life that the darkness that burdened her in her last year of life will not taint her legacy. She is my angel now.I am very heart broken and sad, but I am dealing with this as well as could be expected. I miss her like crazy. She is loved. I love her. I just can't see her for awhile, but I feel that I will be with her again someday.
I often sit in a comfortable chair, drinking a Diet Coke, and think how unfair the world is.I imagine a world where every person has free access to hugs and the right to refuse them--or the right to hug something in self defense.Spaz is such a funny word. "Assistant to Spaz" is my job title.I heard a man say that God loves irony. From this I also assume that God also gets a good chuckle out of not existing and existing at the same time. God must also enjoy giving one team a championship win because they prayed for it and letting the other team lose because they asked for the same thing. I also know of a kid who prayed to God that he would see a bear on his trip to Yellowstone and he did see one. I pray for a lot of things and I get mixed results. It is much like playing a slot machine that holds my eternal fate in its magic lever. What I meant to say is that I constantly fear pissing off the great slot machine up in the sky while hoping for enough winnings to pay for enough gas to make it back home. That is faith.Some of the things that turned out for the better are still good while some of the other things that seemed good have actually turned out to follow a much more depressing course. I have a hard time lately watching movies at home all the way through. There is something wrong with my attention span. I have no current obsessions. It really worries me.Well, in the immortal words of Ralph Wiggam, "Go Banana!'
Julie Schuler is a very talented painter and overall artist. She is also a die-hard Gruntonian. I thought it was about time that I gave her a well deserved shout out and post a link to her store: My Good Babushka.I am a big fan of her paintings of classic horror figures and other weird or macabre subjects. She also does cute and cuddly--very diverse. Check out her work and buy something.
Remember how hot it was when Britney Spears danced all sexy like with that python/boa at the MTV VMAs? Now picture that routine but with a chimpanzee or a dog.Now the whole symbolism of the Serpent/phallus tempting Eve in the Garden of Eden thing does not escape me. What does escape me is that a snake is just as much an animal as a rooster, monkey, dog, or a hamster is, so why are we okay with dry humping/sexually abusing snakes? I once saw a '60s "B" movie, exploitation flick where a stripper was basically screwing a snake and sticking it in her mouth as she go-goed. What if, instead of a snake, she greased up a cat and stuck it between her legs then swallowed its head in a fit of ecstasy? What would we have then? Movie magic, that's what!I declare, thinking about all of this here stuff has done given me a case of the wim wams.
Now I wouldn't classify Subway as a fine deli, but I do frequent the place, due to it being convenient and relatively cheap. However, there is one thing about Subway that really irks me and that is the inconsistency between stores, or even the employee making your sandwich. I find myself favoring one location over another. This is not due to proximity, per se, but how well they give good sandwich/Subway. You can liken it to sex, if you want--and I know you will because only perverts read this blog. Some sandwich makers have that special touch where they just know how much mayo to put on, and so forth. Some sandwich makers put way too much of everything on, or think that bigger is always better. I am beginning to know what it feels like to be a woman, in that there are men who think it is sexy to jam their dripping wet appendages up in all of your "that"--there are just so many ways that it can go wrong, and usually does. Of course, and just as worse or more, are the ones that leave you hanging with hardly anything at all and you are left with a dusty orifice, all alone. Let's not forget to mention that the same hands that they touched your goods with were also handling their dirty cash just moments before. Both also can cause anal bleeding, as well.When Subway is done right it is magnificent. Every placement and assemblage brings about twinges of ecstasy, building up to the high plateau of good times, the slight dip at thought of what this is going to cost you, and then to taking it to the face for the climax. Just remember to wipe that mayo off of your face before going back outside.
Hello. It's been awhile but I needed the time away from blogging. Some very significant things have happened to people close to me and I have been involved a great deal in those life events. It has been truly great. My sister is out of the chains of addiction and discovering a whole new world now. My niece has got remarried to a man that treats her right. My mom has finally retired. My brother is starting to really try to lose weight. I am still grunty, but with more miles and wear and tear. I think it makes me look distinguished (read: older and fatter--"Orson Welles"). I have had some time off and I hope to post pictures of my trip to Escalante. My friend Wayne promised me a CD with pictures of the trip. So, we are all at his mercy. I am parting together another electric guitar out of odds and sods that I had laying around, together with a recently acquired Stratocaster neck from Ebay. I've been doing a little work and consulting for a local metal band, nothing big, but cool nonetheless. I get paid "big fat donut" for my sage advice and skillful hands. It is all part of my plan to become their creepy tech guy when they make it to the county fair circuit.Well, that's about it. More posts to come. Hopefully, they will be weird ones.
The next four days I will be in the slot canyon capitol of the world. I am horribly out of shape and will probably keel over from exhaustion within the first few miles. My back has been giving me trouble, but to hell with it, I am going anyway. After the summer that I've had I need to enjoy myself, even if it ends up killing me. There's nothing like telling people that you are off to venture into Little Death Hollow for a bit of R&R.A bit of the random for ye:I have an idea for something that would serve as an energy source and as a fashion statement: the photosytheshirt. When you wear this shirt you will get all your energy needs via sunlight. The downside is that birds and squirrels will nest in you and try to gather your nuts, even if you don't have them. On the plus side, sort of, dogs will really like you and hippies will hug you.I was digging around my parent's storage unit to see if I could find my high school yearbooks and I found my trusty BB gun from way back when. Upon handling it, I had the sudden urge to visit my old neighborhood and shoot out the windows of all the homes of the people that were dicks. Good sense prevailed and I just went up in the hills and shot beer bottles and grasshoppers.Dogs know the secret of steel. They don't tell anyone the secret because they can't stop thinking about bacon.See yous laters!
Have any of you seen that Evander Holyfield Taco Bell commercial yet? It is freakin' hi-larious. It's good to see this partially-functioning, punch-drunk former bruiser making a few more million as the taco ambassador to the world. I can't get enough of this commercial. You can barely understand a word this man is saying, plus you get to see him in "old lady" drag. About his speech, hell, I don't even think it is an offshoot of some bastardized form of Ebonics. It's more like a deaf Buckwheat walking into an alien ship and muttering random shit to the little gray dudes kind of language. I have been riffing a bit on this commercial and here is my version of how it goes:Counter Girl: Welcome to Taco Bell. May I take your order?EH: I hadda two hanga pangdoh tacknos peaze!Counter Girl: Usually, a man your size can only eat one of those.EH (pointing over to an old lady drag version of himself): Bud I pa-tadda na mama puh nunch!The End.I think there should be a sequel to this commercial where Mike Tyson sits down next to Evander in the Taco Bell and just stares at his ear, licking his lips, then takes takes a long sip from his Baja Blast. Evander could just say this line: "Oh no, potado!" Good advertising doesn't have to make any sense so long as it is funny as hell.
