Thoughts from the Deep End... of the Kiddie Pool

We all have our vices and our faults... mine is consuming caffeine before I have to make coherent arguments.

At what point does freedom become inhibiting? Perhaps at the phrase: "All you can eat buffet".

Never flippantly question a(n) angry stubborn crazy woman.

Sometimes you have to chose your battles wisely... like if you want to spend the extra four dollars for the color-safe bleach in your laundry soap.

Just one time, instead of going to war, we should have our three best freestyle rappers battle the other country's and have neutral country like Belgium judge it.

S.C.U.B.A.: Some Come Up Barely Alive

I wonder how much pot was consumed before the idea of edible underwear came into existence...

Lets start a revolution! ...or a movement! ...or a maybe just a really intense game of Yahtzee?

Questions You Hope You Never Have to Ask/Be Asked

"Did you just propose?"

"You mean, you AREN'T that guy from the Village People?"

"Where are my clothes?"

"Why do you keep shining that light in my eyes?"

"Why do you keep referring to me as: Papi?"

"Are you supposed to have a permit for that thing?"

"Did you just chug that whole gallon of milk?"

"Did they blow up my car again?"

"When did you become related to me?"

"Are you sure that thing isn't loaded?"

"Wait... when did we get a new President?"

If My Life Experience Were a Videogame

You wake up in a strange world. You are not sure if you were there when you fell asleep. As you sit up, you realize that your clothes have all disappeared. Not because someone stole them, but you remember that you left them at the building where the washer machine is a few blocks away. Scowering what is left in your room, you find some dirty shorts, two non-smelly shirts, two unmatching socks, and one clean pair of underwear. (+1 outfit) You remember God is on your side every morning. For bonus points, you find breakfast, consisting of some sugarless peanut butter, two over-ripe bananas, and some locally made honey. Flies are intigued by your breakfast choice. You are intrigued by the guy who told you, pound for pound, flies have more protein than steak.
      Poking your head outside, you survey the party from the night before. (Not YOUR party, but the ones the neighbors had last night). Although there are no neighbors sleeping in the yard (this time), empty bottles of jack daniels, empty boxes of Miller lite, and a three wheeled baby stroller litter your homestead lawn (-1 fung shui). After picking up the big pieces, you double lock both the screen and the main door, and head off for caffeinated nourishment. On your way, you are ambushed by homeless. You hope for the best, expect the worst. Armed with a few ones and enough knowledge of the Bible to get yourself in trouble, conversation is engaged. You are then schooled on who God really is, why you are in the neighborhood you are, and a renewed sense of purpose. You are also three bucks lighter.
      You enter the Circle K allured by the smell of coffee and artificially flavored goodness. Avoiding the glances from the patrons patrolling the store, you assure yourself that your hair doesn't need to be combed today. The clerk at the desk smiles at you, as you make small talk. She is twice your age, but you swear she is flirting with you. (+1 ego, +4 creeped out factor). After making a joke to avoid the awkward silence, she then proceeds to tell you about her husband's (husband? -2 ego) dog being run over for the third time and how funny that is (+1 morning irony). Finding nothing to say except "wow... I'm sorry 'bout your dog..." she responds by making an extremely racist joke, offending every decent bone in you... and yet, for some reason, you laugh.
      The liquid norishment leaves you feeling buzzed and atwitter. You begin to wrack your brain for things to write about in the morning. Your brain has left a note scribbed in black sharpie on a candy wrapper, "Gone to find myself. If I get back before I do, tell me to wait for myself". You consume more caffeine to compensate as the screen fades to back.
     Level 1 complete.

"God not only invented the nap, but He ordained it as holy."--Jeff Dempsy

There is no such thing as good news before I've had my coffee.

Most corporate conflicts should be settled with a massive waterballon fight. Driest person standing wins?

Don't be sexist... chicks hate that...

I sort of kind of think that maybe, if you think really hard about it, that passive voice in writing should be eliminated you know or whatever.

I'm not sure if we ticked them off, but I'm pretty sure the guy running at us with the bat doesn't look too pleased...

America: The only place where racial slurs and rap albums can live together peaceably.

Political debates would probably be more interesting if they were forced to only speak in Elizabethian dialogue.... either that, or they must freestyle rap battle each other about foreign policy.

So I played that song backwards and all I got was GLIBBLEWHIBBLEFLAGFLIPPINJESUSLOVESMETHISIKNOWFLRAGGIN'!

From Tip to Toe

Yesterday a homeless woman give me all she had
when she said “what you said to me that day that way made me see that my brother, though dead,
was alive, and that resurrected inside I could survive and kill this pride.”
And I cried because, she reminded me that day, I lived too.
And all she had were the hugs of the empty promises of yesterdays that reeked of the yester-ways which told me the things you said from the things you read only matters if you put it to your flesh. 'Cause when we see our neighbors flesh we refresh the Jehovah M'Kaddesh to see the plan. The plan that was plan B, to show that through our redemptive sin we win because what once was, has been, and we nothing but forgiven. For given grace to see how free we could be if we would stop sinful fate, debate, and delineate the great and find that the Great is I AM.
I AM is not to say that I am God, but I know it is odd to think that it stops with me but I know my own frailty and blight and know that my rite ain't right because all I deserve is crucifixion. Because after that dereliction I have a suspicion that we began to believe this fiction that this affliction was something we could overcome.
Now we can only see self help books, and give prayers dirty looks and call all people crooks and listen to stupid rap songs with meaningless hooks.
But that's what we're lookin' for right? Some sight? Less fight?
To sing with Bob Marley and say, “Every little thing, gonna be alright?”
See, that's why this rhyme was designed to defibrillate, to shock and stalk and consecrate, that we are holy, even in this jacked up state.
So when we walk this earth we must state, before we close off each other or reach for hate, or get pissed off during political debate, that we can only see part of this past
This rhyme won't last and these words are frail, though meant to impale, like the the spear that was put through by Roman guard, to bring peace to this dead flesh.
And three days later, did what we couldn't to refresh, and make all we have from death to life,
and we are the church, a whore and God's wife.
So when we say, “God is dead” as it seemed, remember He causes the dead to rise,
redeemed.

Not Goin' Insane... Just Wakin' Up My Brain

When will we realize that physical poverty is not the problem but a symptom of a much deeper poverty of the soul?

Ever wonder who is responsible for making the glue on the back of the stamp taste so dang delicious?

Perhaps the honesty of barber shops (not salons) and diners (not themed restaurants) should be unleashed upon this nation.... maybe we'd get more stuff done.

Sexual education should be taught in public schools and in church. At the risk of sounding like a heretic, today's youth are being fed lies from the media. Why don't we talk about it the places it should be talked about: In church (or, at the risk of sounding crazy, at home) under proper context.

I took a test to see if I was obsessive compulsive, and it turned out it was negative. So I called back nine times just to be sure...

Ever wonder if the first person to ever dance was first suspected to be experiencing an epileptic seizure?

Protecting my Identity

Yesterday, I went to try and figure out how to replace my driver's license. After following the phone recording, (If you are trying to get a new registration card, press 1. If you are trying to get a land permit, press 2. If you talking to a machine, press 3. [presses three] Thank you. You will be connected to somebody in India in approximately sixty-eight minutes. Please enjoy this horrible music by an obscure 80s band that should never be played,ever, while you wait), I finally figured out that I needed some money.
      The bank I use is very customer service oriented. I had applied to a job there before and we had rehearsed doing transactions for the interview. As far as I can tell, I don't think I got the job because I lacked a double X chromosome. The very attractive teller nodded me over. "Hi! Welcome to [bank name omitted to prevent riots]. How can I help you?"
"Yes, I'd like to cash this check. I don't have a driver's license. I need the money to get one."
"Oh... okay... one second..." She then begins to tap every key on her keyboard.
      We are now in a game of interrogation. One wrong answer, and I will have to talk to a five star general, or worse, A MANAGER!
      "Your date of birth?" "May 12, 1987."
      "Your mother's maiden name?" "Jones."
      "The name of your favorite childhood pet." "Obi."
      "The name of the greatest dictator of the French revolution?"
      "Before or after the 'Reign of Terror'."
      "After." 
       I squint, "Um... Bonaparte?"
      The teller shakes her head, making her beautiful blonde bounce. "TELLER ASSISTANCE!" she screams, never losing eye contact with me.
      "Oh no..." I think. I think of all the instruments of torture they will use on me: Water torture, the chair, FINGERPRINTING.... 
      A very professional looking effeminate man came over, "Hi.... how are you?" he does not wait for an answer, nor does he make eye contact. He merely stares at the computer and slams down the keys, then back into my soul.
      He looks at me, then back at the screen, then at my social security card and two other forms of ID, "Um... where is your driver's license?"
     "I am here to get money for a replacement license."
A belabored sigh falls out of his lungs. Like a child who was just told to share by his mother, he responds, "Okay... FINE... cash his check...." (as he walked away, I think the name "stupidface" exited his lips).
      With a pocket full of cash, I head down to the Mesquite Market, which I found is a local grocery with a MVD station inside. I walk in, wearing a flamboyant Hawaiian shirt (which I am later told is a bad choice to wear in this area). I walk over to the station. The woman behind the desk is very obviously flirting with a man twice her age and size on the other side of the counter. She immediately looks up and says, "YES..." [nervous cough] "I can help you right here."
      "I'm here for a replacement ID."
      "Oh... you can't do that here. You have to the other one across town. And you need two proofs of residency, a Swiss bank account, a contract signing over your first born, and $60."
      "Oh man... now where am I going to get $60? What do you think I am, made of money?"  

Thought Ponderings and Pondering Thoughts

Are there any redeeming qualities in the Cheeto?

Hey Bob... you might wanna get out from under your truck... it's startin' to shmoke.... Bob???

"Life is a test, and I confess
I like this mess I've made so far
Grade on a curve and you'll observe
I'm right below the horizon"--They Might Be Giants

The nineties were a strange decade to grow up in. We had cartoons about monsters, babies, talking rabbits and ducks, video pets, and really baggy jeans that cost $50 a pair. Acid dream?

I think everyone should have to watch Jerry Springer once; as a warning for some, as entertainment for others, or sad nostalgia.

The things Whole Foods throws in the garbage is a SIN!

When we are willing to walk in places that people dare not go, when we are willing to listen and talk with people that are outcast, when we are willing to hurt and suffer with people, God is at hand. (Isaiah 40:6)

Lets start an uprising... call it operation: NAPTIME!

What Keeps Me Going

Came home from work yesterday ambling down side streets. While I know it may not be the "safest" way to get home, I think sidestreets offer a way to see the same parts of town in a different light. There were a group of homeless kids sprawled out on the side.

      One remembered me from a few days ago and ran over to give me a hug, "HEEEY CUTIE!"
"Hey brohan! How goes it?"
"Oh... you know... same ol'. My parents called me a faggot again today."
"That sucks," I sighed, "I'm sorry."
He sighed, "Oh you know... price you pay for bein' yourself sometimes... I look really good in this dress, don't you think?"
I smiled, "Sure."

A heavyset girl waddles over to us wearing ratty jeans and a muscle shirt. They barely cover up the right parts. She looks me over and smiles, "You lookin'?"
"No thanks..." I quickly replied. I don't know what I should be "lookin'" for, but in this part of town, I'm betting it's not something I need.

She rolls her eyes, "Whatever..."
My cross dressing friend gave her a playful push, "Hey... leave him alone. He's a good man."

"Um... thanks?" I reply back.

"You are a good man. You and that bearded guy [I think he was referring to my boss] are the only ones down here who say 'hi' to me."

As my eyes met theirs a loneliness begin to fade. I saw a mirror staring back at me. I was almost in their shoes: broke as a joke and sometimes stupid lonely. However, there was a hope in their eyes: a hope that seemed contagious. A hope that kept me going that day.

I now say "hi" to everyone down here. You never know when Christ will be the one saying "hi" back.

From the Thought Hoard to Eliminate the Bored

Ever wonder how the guy who writes parking tickets sleeps at night?

If somehow we could harness the energy of a toddler after given gratuitous amounts of sugar: ENERGY CRISIS SOLVED.

There is NO way that I'm going to let you stick that... ohhhh, that's for construction.... phew.

Man... how did we end up here...?? ...And why is that bouncer calling you "Papi"?

Laundry should be sacred.

Never, under ANY circumstances, consume oatmeal and bananas without a fully functioning bathroom.

No matter how much I monitor the batter of baked goods, somehow, someway, oat-bran will manage to fold itself into the mix.

Mark my words: Texting will kill us all!

Did YOU take my pills again? ...oh... well, then maybe you SHOULD!

If the end of the world comes, what can you do to stop it? (besides hire a team of oil drillers to go into space...)

If your parents do it right, you will hear them even when they are gone.

"Only when the last tree has died and the last river has be poisoned and the last fish been caught will we realize we cannot eat money."--Cree saying

I miss the days when you could take your problems and flush them down the toilet.

Energy Drinks

Was in a gas station recently, and went to go consume my favorite drug of choice: caffeine. However, as I was perusing the various assortment of legal addictive substances mixed with sugary bliss, I passed by a section of beverages that was not so prevalent a decade ago: The Energy Drink Section.
      I went to college. I know that life is a series of trade offs. I realize that sometimes you gotta sacrifice four night's sleep so that way you can be in a sleep deprived stupor for that last exam for that class you hate. I am just as guilty as the next insomniac.
      However, as my eyes glazed over the labels like the doughnut machine at the Krispy Kreme shop, I saw some disturbing things on labels that I'd like to share. These are the ACTUAL labels:

Caution: HIGH CAFFEINE CONTENT... OKAY, WE KNOW THAT'S WHY YOU'RE DRINKING IT BUT OUR LEGAL GUYS WANT TO MAKE SURE YOU DON'T FEED IT TO KIDS, WOMEN WITH A BUN IN THE OVEN, OR THE WEAK WHO JUST CAN'T TOLERATE IT

(First off, I think the guy/gal who wrote this was on said energy drink and, therefore, can not help shouting this warning, even in print. Second, it almost seems like they're enticing you. "Don't feed it to kids" "Your baby will be born with muscles" "You're too weak for OUR drink... neener neener neenee!")

FREEK: (The rest of the label is not necessary. Not only does this advocate illiteracy, but I'm scared about people who feel the need to consume a liquid to "get their freak on" (the label's slogan)).

Cocaine: This message is for people who are too stupid to recognize the obvious. This product does not contain the drug cocaine. This product is not intended for any other use but an energy drink. (Sure... yeah... okay... I beLIEve you.)

RED STUFF: Energy Drink (A least they seem to be less misleading about what is really IN the drink)

There are many more, but I think you get the point. I think I'll stick to the original energy drink: coffee. But then again, I saw some coffee the other day that was "Gensing infused"...

IS NOTHING SACRED ANYMORE?

Pure Unadulterated Glee

No... I'm not referring to that evil thing on television that is slowly killing us all... wait, isn't that Oprah?      The other day I was dressed for an interview and I felt very mature. I had not changed too much just by switching outfits. Some would argue that I was still "me" under all the adultness (you can fill in the blanks what that means to you...). However, that got me thinking about maturity, which brings me to the subject of unhampered joy.
      Now, I'm not saying that we should all resort to bathroom humor for the sake of world peace. That would make life one big episode of Ren and Stimpy (which again, you can fill in the blanks about the good/bad of that). However, I think we miss the pure joy of enjoying life. I realize I don't have a huge amount of responsibilities in comparison to some. However, I think sometimes we miss the simplest pleasures because we are bogged down by the worries of life. We ignore the good because we are worried about what COULD happen. We have bills to pay, kids to raise, roofs to put over our heads, and lives that we are trying to self-actualize. There's so much to mistrust, and yet, there's so much to take joy in: people to love us, friends who are loyal, a body (which when functioning in a healthy way can be pretty funny all by itself), and (at the risk of sounding a bit dogmatic) a God who is with us, whether we feel Him or not. These gifts are what give life its beauty. If we refuse to acknowledge these treasures, we rob ourselves of an accurate viewpoint of life and thus, risk digging ourselves early graves.
      The title of this note is taken from a phrase said by Jim Wiggins, the oldest person ever on Last Comic Standing who had been doing saloon comedy for over forty years. He had been 11th in the top ten comedian choosing for the final cut and had therefore not been able to perform. However, as drama flaired on the show (as with most reality television), one of the finalists refused to perform at the last minute. Literally hours before he was supposed to get onstage, he received a phone call from Las Vegas to go perform. Upon seeing his journey there, his voiceover in the frame said, "I had nothing but pure unadulterated glee [upon receiving the news of wanting to hear his act again]." He then proceeded to do his act, which consisted of jokes about being old, poop, tequila, and a dialogue about being busted in a hotel swimming pool for wearing a thong bathing suit. While he did not make it to the top five, he received a standing ovation.

Two Whole Chickens

Being in Albuquerque has forced me to deal with one of my biggest spiritual issues: Pride. I did not realize how insidious it was until I could not find a job to save my life. Ten job applications, I was trusting God. Fifty job applications, I thought to myself "Okay, this is what faith is..." Seven hundred plus applications, getting to the "final interview" three times, and still no job, God and I were "having relationship issues".        I was trying everything in my power to "stand on my own two feet", prove to myself that I could do life. When this did not happen, I became bitter toward God. I felt like I was standing in front of Him saying, "HEY! I took care of Your children. I fulfilled my part of the deal. YOUR TURN!!!"
However, one day, I was speaking with a friend about my "problem" and his response was unwavering: "Chase, you feel called to work with the poor, right?" My head nodded automatically, "Right..." He then hit me right between the eyes, "What makes you think you are above their struggles? What makes you think that God loves you any more than He loves them? What makes you think YOU should get special treatment?"
       Ouch.
       As much as I justified it in my own head, that's what I was doing. Here I was, having spent a year and some change living with the homeless, and I was complaining that I deserved a job. Because I had a degree, because I was supposed to be at "this point in my life right now", because I spent so much time feeling indignant about what I "should" have, I did not count my blessings in what I did:
1. My parents fed me and loved me everyday.
2. I got to live with my aunt working off rent.
3. I had a car.
4. I was not hungry when I went to bed.
5. There are more blessings here than I can type.
       This dangerous sense of entitlement made me dissatisfied with God. If I really took a hard look at what I deserved from God, I need only to look at the cross. THAT'S what I deserve. I am a nobody. However, on that cross, Christ identified with me, and I Him. He is my entitlement. I realize that I am only as good as the one I am following and to the extent that I am following Him. And if my faith is to bring about change, I must follow Him: through the muck, next to the "untouchables", through the pain of filled tombs, being a man of a poor spirit, depending on God to do miracles.
       Living in the "War Zone" of Albuquerque (They renamed it the "cultural district"... politics...) has forced me to rely on God. It has forced me again to take a hard look at my neighbors and how to love them. It has forced me to ask the question: "Where are you God?" during times of suffering, only to have Him say, "I am with you to the ends of the earth. [Did you forget or something?]" (Brackets mine)
       Has the earth ended? In spite of what that dude in Los Angeles said/says, it has not. Christ is still here. He told us to pray: "Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on EARTH as it is in heaven" (emphasis mine). I know God has called me to the World Race. While I know God will provide, I haven't a clue how it will all pan out. All I can do, is hold up my loaves and fish and say, "God, do something with this, please..." and watch Him feed souls.
       Yesterday, I was praying over the neighborhood, and asking God to continue to restore His kingdom here. As I was praying, a girl came up to me on a bike, too small to belong to her. She had a dew rag on her head, and was heavily tatted up wrist to neck, and back again. She ambled over and asked, "Hey... do you have fifty five cents so I can get a poptart for lunch?" I saw desperation in her eyes; The kind that I had felt so many times.
       "You spangin' for a poptart? I wish I had some money, but I'm kinda poorer than the economy right now..."
        We laughed real hard. It felt good to laugh like that.
       "But seriously, I don't have anything..." I began to make an excuse, but then I remembered a second chicken my mother had bought for me the last time she was at the store. I used to be very indignant at these gifts of generosity. However, I now see that in her gifts, my mom was showing me how the provision of God works: "...but I gotta whole chicken in there. I know I can't eat all of it by myself. You want it?"
       The girl lit up and screamed: "FUCK YEAH!" and dropped her bike to hug me. It was there that God redeemed struggle, and showed me what His love can do: Feed souls, destroy death, and bring life.

The Awkward Poem

I dedicate this to what I will say,
after ten years, I hope my dad comes back from the store one day
And I know if I say this
it will echo 'round the globe,
"Anyone ever tell you "you have sexy earlobes?"
My mom told me that was her favorite pickup line,
after she told me, "I love you, you're not mine."
So off I go again, another psychotic episode
I tell you this to make your mind implode.
This poem is only to inform, not to goad
I must tell you this, or my pants will explode
This poem is not normal,
like a newborn baby with an afro,
Rather this awkward poem is to attack the status quo
and make it like diarrhea, so smooth let it flow
into the next line with simile and metaphor,
Like Bevis and Butthead, this poem is a "SCORE!"
that's times twenty in the area
of awesome and strange
so lets dethrone Obama,
how's THAT for a change???

Bleeds with You. For Jax

You smoked too much for your own good
never seeing your reflection,
the herbs and embers
coursing through your veins,
only laughing when you could
hugging a needle when you could not.

You bled too much to live
your broken muffled midnight cries
belittling the fire's destruction
bursting dams in eyes
that didn't belong to you
but bearing its weight nonetheless.

You are not forsaken

You are not forgotten

You are tears
slidding over a beaten bloody face
weighed down by the crown of scorn
who bleeds with you.

A Thought Vent When my Mind is Spent

It has been a very long time since I have felt this faithful... either that means that I've finally gone insane, or that God is really doing work.

What ever happend to lyrical content?

Helplessness is God's medium by which He choses to work the best with.

When you finally hit the "self publish" button, it comes up with the sign, "CONGRATULATIONS! YOU JUST PUBLISHED A BOOK!" However, they should follow it up with a second sign which says, "...but you're still poor".

I have yet to see when a little chest hair sticking out of a shirt "helps" a look.

Awkward conversation:
1: "It looks like your wife keeps you on a short lease..."
2: "Yeah... and she calls me 'Fido'..."

I think there's something in your tuba... WHAT? No that was NOT a metaphor!

We all want justice as long as it doesn't bother us.

If New Mexico took over the government, would we have "Red or Green" states?

Yes honey, I read the book you told me to read... yes I understood it... YES, that's the book... yes... it is is still covered in plastic wrap.

Luke 1:38

This is Only a Test

...An introduction, an examination, a beginning of new things that cause trepidation. Do you like rivoting political commentary? Do you like angst ridden hate speech? Do you like talks about how we should all just "get along"? Then you probably should not subscribe to this blog.

I'm a poet/activist/man o' faith/unconventional person who loves wordplay, pondering, and trying to figure out where that smell is coming from. So, sit back, relax, take some motion sickness pills, and enter.

But beware, these thoughts may inspire you to do crazy things, like start a revolution...

Or get married.