tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14256757930085798392024-03-13T22:10:07.580-05:00Notes From Underground"I am a sick man... I am a spiteful man. I am an unpleasant man. I think my liver is diseased. However,...
...to be acutely conscious is a disease, a real, honest-to-goodness disease."Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger8125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1425675793008579839.post-16701486670270209752009-12-26T23:19:00.004-06:002009-12-26T23:43:31.984-06:00The D.S.A. (Disunited States of America)<a offsetheight="0" offsetwidth="0" offsetleft="3" offsettop="20" visible="true" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmqZrsHHBe14w-QldkZwqPJgQSLHoekeLfdLxI5creB-LaiFPyZRmOUo1NsTDWxyx8R9F3m3WUmyOj-UsW7o3Zv7pf1JHzUIREq33mo2cwmNlBJ-Ud4ZhRLJ3wcin3LNHAYPR9adPbFWw/s1600-h/09_12_26.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 315px; height: 315px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmqZrsHHBe14w-QldkZwqPJgQSLHoekeLfdLxI5creB-LaiFPyZRmOUo1NsTDWxyx8R9F3m3WUmyOj-UsW7o3Zv7pf1JHzUIREq33mo2cwmNlBJ-Ud4ZhRLJ3wcin3LNHAYPR9adPbFWw/s320/09_12_26.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419786690433069026" border="0" /></a><br />I just finished watching "Pawn Stars" on the History Channel and it made me wonder what the world would look like if the Constitution of the United States didn't call for a strong central government. What if the United States looked more like the European Union? What if each "state" was a state in the classical sense of the word? A fragmented North American continent wouldn't possibly be able to rise to the heights, and yes at times lows, that the U.S. reached.<br /><br />Canada would have been the bully on the continent pushing us around and grabbing land. Mexico would have kept the southwest. Terrorist attacks occurring in New York, not from members of Al-Qaeda, but disgruntled Red Sox fans over years of "Yankee" imperialism on the baseball field. Naval battles on Lake Michigan between Illinois and Wisconsin led by Admirals Urlacher and Favre. The south seceding from itself!<br /><br />In the end it doesn't matter. In my opinion it worked out for the best, but what if games can be fun.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1425675793008579839.post-142418077484394462008-11-25T18:51:00.004-06:002008-11-25T19:00:43.340-06:00To the Winter.Dear Mr. Frost,<br /><br />Please be kind to us. Last year was brutal. You proved your power. Endless sub-zero nights; foot after foot of snow poured upon us. You proved your power and we faced it with desperate determination. This year you must show us your mercy. Our financial situation is perilous, our societal bonds strained. As families lose income and the ranks of the homeless swell we desperately seek your mercy. Every frozen child and frost-bitten street-walker will be on your conscience. Don't make us forever hate you. That is not a threat. Instead, an opportunity to show your compassion.<br /><br />If we are to ask you to be kind we must also show our love and compassion not only to you but to each other. When your brother comes to you in need old grudges must be forgotten. Old divisions must be bridged between families, between races, between countries, between enemies and within ourselves if we are going to survive this terrifying moment in world history. This won't be the first devastating moment in mankind, nor the last. When historians look back at our age and write about who was a hero and who was indifferent what side will you be on?<br /><br />There is much more to do. There is much more you can do. There is much more I can do. Will we all do what we can?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1425675793008579839.post-50840550522737791612008-11-20T17:58:00.002-06:002008-11-20T18:06:15.650-06:00To the Future Love of My Life.My Love,<br /><br />When I meet you you'll be the most alive person I've ever met. You, my love, will destroy all of my cynicisms, pretensions and intellectual egoisms with one fell swoop. When our fingers are intertwined and our lips locked there will be nothing but happiness and love enveloping our being.<br /><br />It will not only be you that makes me beam happiness after our acquaintance but all that is in the world. The gruffy man at the station selling papers; the silly little girl running after her hat in the wind; the mother that curses and scolds me for being a damn fool though she's never met me, nor heard my damn fool voice; but most of all those mischevious eyes you'll look at me with for no apparant reason at all.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Sincerely,</span><br /><br />Awe me.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1425675793008579839.post-73765648824685898882008-11-19T19:38:00.002-06:002008-11-19T19:46:24.817-06:00An Open Letter to the Psychotics of the Fairer Sex.Dear Psycho-Chics,<br /><br />What the fuck? Seriously. I know you represent a small minority of the women in the world but how can you be so fucking crazy and then think that doing something even crazier will fix your relationship?<br /><br />If you are having a fight with your boyfriend over something stupid you don't put the car in park, jump out, and run away while your boyfriend is sitting at a stoplight next to a police car. If your boyfriend dumps your crazy ass for jumping out of the car and won't answer your calls sending a picture message of your wrist dripping blood and/or ketchup won't convince him to take your crazy ass back.<br /><br />If you call him and say that you'll slit your throat if he doesn't come see you and then he doesn't show up it isn't because he doesn't care about you it is because you don't give a shit about him. If you did you wouldn't put him through that hell.<br /><br />There is no hormonal excuse for this sort of behavior. You are just fucking crazy. Put down that broken piece of mirror you just cut your wrist with and look in it. Something is severely wrong with you. No man will ever fix that insecurity or insanity you have inside you. Seek help, please.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Sincerely,</span><br /><br />Single Again.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1425675793008579839.post-11695605972945524382008-11-11T16:12:00.004-06:002008-11-19T19:48:21.068-06:00A Letter to TalentDear Talent,<br /><br />Where have you gone? There was a point in my life where I seemed to be brimming over with the stuff and now it seems that was all a fraud. Maybe it wasn't talent, maybe it was youthful egotism. Maybe it wasn't an internal sense of drive and ambition but merely delusions of grandeur from a kid with an overactive imagination.<br /><br />Now I am enveloped in static clouds of frozen nonsense. I'm too young for a midlife crises, too old for youthful indecision. The drip has hit, I'm stuck. Wordplay comes and goes. Sullivan, Burnham, Nabokov, Dostoevsky... etc. The more I study the greats the less I stack up. I'm missing something.<br /><br />Maybe I need something really bad to happen to me. Maybe something really good. Maybe I need to shut up and ride out this recession. Maybe I shouldn't let it be a crutch.<br /><br />Tolstoy told me that the more power you have the less freedom you have. I don't feel very free. I feel constrained by my limited time and resources. I crave independence. I want to succeed or fail. Rise to great heights or go down in a blaze of debt and bankruptcy. Either would make me happy. Ambiguity rots the soul.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Sincerely,</span><br /><br />Depleted.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1425675793008579839.post-17226928019395501132008-11-04T00:49:00.004-06:002008-11-19T19:48:55.550-06:00A Letter to Chicago.Dear Chicago,<br /><br />Let's celebrate responsibly tonight. The world is watching (and so is the Olympic committee).<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Sincerely,</span><br /><br />Excited.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1425675793008579839.post-54172948899633101642008-11-02T16:56:00.001-06:002008-11-19T19:49:26.701-06:00A Letter to the Voters of America.Dear Voters of America,<br /><br />In only two more days I intend to celebrate with a million of my closest friends in downtown Chicago. I intend to only be at the rally until midnight because there will be an overwhelming victory for soon to be President-elect Barack Obama. I intend to get caught up in the moment with some idealistic young college student. I intend to migrate to Rush St. with a million of my closest friends. I intend to do things that shouldn't be talked about on a public forum. I intend to eat a greasy breakfast at 4 AM. I intend to go home and sleep till noon. I intend to go have a lunch with my mom to celebrate. I intend to see our country turned over the next for years.<br /><br />Voters of America: Don't fuck this up for me.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Sincerely,</span><br /><br />Third time is the charm.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1425675793008579839.post-580184965853579922008-10-30T22:42:00.001-05:002008-11-19T19:49:58.503-06:00A Letter to the President.Dear Mr. President,<br /><br />In less than a week I will be leaving you. The divorce will be final in January and I hope to never see you again. I've endured eight years of your abuse, both mental and physical. I'd love to say I wish you would just die and rot in hell, but I can't. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">When</span> I see you or hear your name my heart is no longer filled with venom and hatred but overwhelmed with a raging apathy. I have moved on. My friends and family have moved on. Your power over me is completely severed. I'll soon be with someone kind and thoughtful. Someone I can respect. Someone that doesn't have to call me names and make me feel irrelevant to get his kicks.<br /><br />Weak men always bully. Weak men always have to act tough to gain the approval of their idiot friends. You and your boys are all spineless cowards giving orders from your offices. Leaving the dirty work to the regular people who have to fight for the simplest <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">luxuries</span> while you sip the finest of scotches with the scum of the earth.<br /><br />Now you're exposed for what you are. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Everyone</span> knows what you've done. You'll never live your reputation as an abuser down. And don't worry about me. I'm picking up the pieces. I've dealt with adversity before. I'll overcome. I don't need power to have strength but I wonder if you'll have any strength now that you're powerless. Go find Jesus.<br /><br /><em>Sincerely,</em><br /><em></em><br />Fuck you.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1