My heart has now grown cold. For the reasons of being so rejected by every woman because I am too nice? You all sleep with my drug addicted friends, they cheat on you and tell me how you are all just so bad. I am the guy who the girls talk to about all their ****ed up relationships. About the problems they have when they meet my friends and sleep with them instead of having a man in their life who would love them and probably worship just even thinking about them glancing over and paying attention. Many years god **** all over my life, he thinks its funny to give all the women to the scum and let a man with a heart suffer. **** you god! I mean it is all ******** fantasy anyway. Now the tears I have shed have turned into black pieces of ice. My heart is cold and I am no saint to any other man, after all they go out and **** the bishops wife every sunday and tell me about their secrets. I don't care or do I want to even think about dating again, only to be led on to find myself alone. I am alone anyway so this means I am content. At peace for finally letting any emotional vision of love die. It gets cold and all I feel is the cool air around me. So go ahead and say you want to date to betray me and sleep with my friends. I know your secrets. Thats all any of us can ever say. We collect the conversations you call us crying over the phone and now we laugh at you. There are many other men out there like me, who envy their man-child friends who degrade the women they seek. Just for the thrill of talking about how her *** felt the night before. Then the next day all we hear is you talking about our friends mistreating you and you still go out on another date with them. I like my buddy who goes through your phone when you go to the bathroom and writes down your girlfriends numbers and then ****s them as well. Ah beautiful california dreaming. So my advice is to become a castrated holy man and join a monastery.

I'm just a graveyard security guard for some sales place. AH....... SIlence after 12 a.m. I get to go through the many cubicles of the many salesmen who stare into the sun from the view of there windows looking down onto the jungles of los angeles. They make their way in at 4 in the morning. There empty cubicles smell of cigarette buds and starbucks coffee. They want to change the world, yet they only stare into the sun. I walk alone at night and almost feel like I'm connectively part of the sales team. When some of their offices I have passed by, I see they have their pharmaceutical drugs. I don't report it. After all they want to change the world. I feel like a lamb amongst the wolves and sharks of wall-street. This is a very strange world I live in with so many nice porsches and Bentleys you can see, and then there is me, the night security guard who greets them and then I leave when my relieve shows up. I am just the new boy, the stranger in this town of corrupt salesmen. Business is booming. And all need is a dirty woman to fulfill my needs and continue on my night job of isolation. The cougars of wall-street flirt with my young fit body because security guards are almost like good looking pool men the women hire to lotion their backs up on beverly hill estate side pools. Ah if only I was not so professional and needed the money to continue on living in my poor studio apartment. So I give them the greetings they need in the morning and leave. I always some how make my way up to the top of the sky risers at night, on the roof I look at the stars and smoke my parliament lights. Drag after drag I always feel like stepping through the looking glass and becoming like they are. They have everything it seems. Everything, but do they have love? Boy!! Would I love to know that. Escorting man and women up to their private offices and just working another day really makes me think. Any of you business men with 6 figure incomes? Lets find out if you have love so it is all not some twisted game. Business..... Is there empathy? Or are all of you just like robots with nice cars?

Ah a another blank page to fill. Is it a good beer I wonder that can induce conversations to complete strangers in bars, clubs, socials events perhaps? You walk into a room with familiar faces and realize after a few sips, you know nobody, but the atmosphere around you completely changes when that booze kicks in. I like to think about victor frankensteins quote," Its Alive!" Thats what happens at least for me. The whole room becomes like a living entity. The various odors of liquor intoxicate my senses and I crave a cigarette only to find once again that I forgot the damn things. So these days in california especially where I live, it is almost like you say the most offensive thing in the world when you ask a stranger for a cigarette. The look on their faces are priceless. When that craving comes, you know it. You want one, you can smell the smoke of somebody else smoking a mile a way. Yet if you are like me you head toward it. You want that tar induced trance for the minute it lasts and you merely don't care about health. Hell Why care when you cant afford it? Then you gaze around the room looking to find that person you can stumble up to and say," Hey buddy can I bum a ciggy?" It almost takes more balls to do this these days then asking a lady out, I recognize this, but I don't got any cigarettes and I am too lazy to go buy a packet. So I look around the bar to see if anyone may look like they smoke too, profiling people for cigarettes? Really?

So the night goes on and I start getting all twitchy, itchy, and I cant sit still. You ever been on a plane for more then 6 hours and if you smoke, thats a long time. A very long time. That tobacco craving can tweak you out, I don't know how people drink caffeine with out a cigarette. "But where so health conscious," I turned to the lady who spoke that to me sitting across the bar. The lady sitting next to me said," Smoking is bad for you." She turned away in disgust, then I heard her murmur to the her servant," Waiter can I have some gravy for my french fries?" Everything starts to annoy you after a while, is this how I am supposed to be? Annoyed with everything? I ponder off in my own thoughts for a minute thinking of those adds and informercials on the radio and t.v. for how bad smoking is, but what about all the bad food we eat? Or that pollution we breathe, save the whales and go to church, I gotta become the purest man ever! This is what started going on in my mind, because as soon as I stopped smoking for a while, I started to panic about everything else. So five minutes went by and in that brief amount of time if felt like 50 years. So after being bombarded with all the inner thoughts, I stood up in the bar and yelled, " **** it !" And then the bar tender spoke with nicest concerned look on his face and said with a calm voice, " HEy buddy you look like you can use a cigarette."

I find myself in one of those group therapy sessions again. Life can be so ****ed up, and it is really sad that the only way some of us can get someone to talk to about all of their bottled up emotions from constant bad memories is to be admitted and processed the american way of seeking advise. You live everyday, but can not get passed horrible moments from the past because when those events occurred, the people you are close to turn away and refuse to give you advise. When **** happens in my family they always get the advise they need and go on in their selfish, self-centered egotistical endeavors and live healthy happy life, but they kick my sadness under the rug and ignore my existence. Over many years I have had to hide my inner thoughts because of the bullies I live with. My sister a few years ago was just earning her degree for psychiatry and thought she would use her own brother as a test subject. She convinced everyone in my family that I was bipolar, and the next thing I know the cops are at my house and I am 5150. Oh how wonderful that whole experience was, to be treated like I am insane and be so dehumanized and humiliated all because of my sister. I had to go on drugs that were making me crazy and gained 150 pounds. Thats right folks I was 170 and went to 325. All from these antidepressants, temazepan, diazepam, clonozapam, lithium, ambien, gabapemton. These drugs are killing a lot of people, and the irony is they are supposed to ease stress. If you take to many lithium pills you get a toxicity and your body goes into shock and death can occur. Really? A prescribed pill for suicidal patients that can eventually kill me if I take too many? Irony?

So I find myself in a circle with other ****ed up people. One of those groups, no yelling, calming music, happy, HAPPY, HAPPY! We sit with a therapist who was just like Martha Stewart, and she wants to hear all of our problems in hopes she could be superwoman and save us. Some of the group members properly rehabilitated were super christians. God saved them and I should denounce my faith and rejoice within their faith. Now I thought about schizophrenia and praying reminded me a lot of about talking to imaginary people, or your so called friends in your head. So I was not too sure, after all, once before I had already been subjected to forced shock therapy because of that mental state, but if I were to pray it would be acceptable in american society to have jesus as your imaginary friend. The hours go by and I have learned to really only rely on my own thoughts now. I don't really feel like expressing feelings inside and have kind of become a cold fish. But thats life and the way my parents see it, my sister did the right thing and I should forget all the memories and pretend nothing ever happened and live happily ever after.

My favorite favorite song from pink floyd, one slip and learning to fly.

Why in todays music it is so electric sounding? The engineers and producers in the music industry already set aside a set list of ideas. These ideas are almost mind controlling the listeners these days. Music to many is not about the music anymore. Its about the life style of the super wealthy who make it in the industry. No depth, no talent, just profit to a new age of garbage out there on the radio. Have you ever noticed that the music stations only play the same 30 or 40 songs a day, everyday? This music has popularity, but why? Because society likes pepsi and coca cola and as long as you become labeled under the pepsi and coke music industry business you will have your money. Your fame and your precious luxury lifestyles will become the main incentive for you to create the next song that sounds almost exactly like the one before it. The true musicians put music out for people to listen to it and don't care about the fame. They only want you to listen and thats where I stand.

For the past 20 years or so I have played piano, guitar, and bass guitar. What it really comes down to in my opinion is your fingers. That is where the tone comes from. You! You hold the mighty power in your playing abilities. The years of sweat, tears, and the hard work you put into the many hours of practice. You become like a fine bottle of wine sitting on a shelf waiting to be discovered.

Thats it! I am done... I am alone, afraid, angry...... Those were his last words before he sewed his lips closed. In curiosity, I was focused on that video I watched earlier that night. He took an old fishing line and sewed his lips. Never spoke a word afterwards for another 20 years until he cut the line. The build up of mold that festered inside his shallow mind. It was just a way of escaping his own imagination that terrified him for many years. I walk the walk, but all the doors I pass are locked. They all have odd numbers and she laughs at me standing on the side walk. Her eyes are blue, her skin is pail, and her lips are colored with black lipstick. It's too ****ing hot today and my apartment has no air conditioner. Dead silence in the hallways again. I feel like walking outside of my apartment and picture myself screaming at the very top of my blackened tobacco lungs just to feel alive. I nervously sit tapping my toes to some song from the 1960's in my warped mind. Then I grab another cigarette with my tobacco stained fingers and light it up. Burn mother****er burn. I close my eyes and inhale the cancer seeping into my lungs. I can hear the crickets in the vent above me like the tell tale heart. It's too quiet! Ah a library is louder then this. My heart starts racing and I pace back and forth on my shitty hardwood floor like Napoleon. AH HAH, I got the tenants attention below me. I hear a tapping and a vague voice yelling up at me," Shut the **** up! What are you doing? Marching?" I quickly respond with, " Mind your own ****ing business!" At that time I heard laughter outside coming from on the street corner. It was the black lipstick woman. I poked my head out the window and yelled, " Hey you!" She was very hesitant to see a guy in a white-beater or tank top, " WHAT EVER!" She replied quite scornfully. Sigh...... It is too hot for this ****. Sometimes I feel like Woody Allen, I get all nervous for no damn reason. I find myself smoking like a chimney when I get like this. So I go for a walk with a new t-shirt on. I looked respectful to get to that corner and meet this woman, but she got on a bus before I got down to the say hello face to face. Now what?

I find it very funny the way meeting people that seem to come into my life when they just pop up out of nowhere. I find myself on nights off of work, to be engulfed in urban exploration. I feel like the writer to one of those wild documentaries. But just what am I writing to you about? I mean you are reading this right now and I have not yet even started to fill you in on the topic I'm guessing you chose from curiosity to read about my experiences at bars. Lets start the night and I will do my best to explain how I go out at night looking for the opposite sex. Before even heading out into the jungle to observe nocturnal activities, you must be well prepared for any obstacles that you may face while on urban safari. Being prepared is what makes the difference between life and death. A typical night for the average man may start between the hours of 6 and 7 p.m. I assume you would of already had a plan for the events in the night, but if you are clueless I can fill you in on the basics to be prepared. This list should help you for urban exploring:

1. Make sure you have had enough rest prior to the journey you take.

2. Make sure you have all the supplies necessary for the evening.

3. Personal hygiene , the scent you have may attract unwanted predators, and thats no fun.

4. The right amount of money to have on hand so any time you have your wallet exposed the opposite sex may see a little cash and be drawn in on the bait you put out. Meaning be seen with a little cash, but be warned primates may be threatened by this.

5. Where the proper attire to the places you explore. Don't show up in a tuxedo at a heavy metal concert.


So now that we have got that out of the way let me tell you about my most recent adventure. It was about 6:45 when I decided to go out to explore. I checked the t.v. guide to see if there may have been any major sports event on local stations so I would know certain places to avoid with primates at bars. Lets face it don't go out looking for the opposite sex when a dodger game is on because bars are filled with angry primates. So I left camp about 7:00 p.m. and already had a basic idea of where to go. The first place I know of is a local place in town, a pool hall. When I arrived I looked carefully at the surroundings to have an idea of how the place was. There were a lot of motorcycles in the parking lot and a lot of primates smoking outside. I was wearing a whit collared shirt and jeans. So I thought already from observation a bunch of primates no females, and they were all wearing black. Nope! Not a good place to be unless you are prepared. So I headed across town to a posh fancy smancy place across town. I decided to give it a shot. I walked in and noticed very calm jazzy music, dim lights, and a bunch of older women at the bar in there early 50's and late 40's. Bingo! So now if you are in a comfortable situation with a cozy atmosphere really start looking around. The bar had many females around it and even the bartender was a female. I thought wow so many beautiful women and no primates to interferer with the urban exploration. The first woman that caught my eye was this blonde, I am a sucker for blondes. When you approach the opposite sex do not look uncomfortable, they will assume you either have problems or gas. Boldly make your way to the bar like you are on a mission, and sit across from the woman you are attracted to. Face to face and eye contact are important to note. Look at the drink the lady you like is having and try to order a similar drink. There is nothing more attractive for a lady to see another man with good taste, at least from her perspective. Make eye contact and after a few minutes open up with a friendly, " Hello I couldn't help notice what you were drinking. What is it?" Now make sure you had some confidence when you spoke those lines, don't act like Jimmy Stuart. Get to talking for a while, talk about things she may have done that very day. Mention a place located near a nail or hair salon if she lives in the area to talk to her about. It could be a restaurant in the same parking lot as her salon. Then crack a joke and make sure you laugh appropriately to break the ice. Finish your drink and look at your watch and tell her you have to go because you made prior engagements. If she liked talking to you and says, " Oh thats too bad I liked talking to you," Go ahead gesture a compliment to her and say," We should talk more and give her your phone number," 70% of the times I have done this they call later and continue on with a relationship. So have fun urban exploring and always stay safe.

AH.... THe undeniable feeling of being alone we all have until we date. I walk with her one night and while we walk aside one another she is determined to let me know what she has now seemed to hold back from telling me, to now only penetrate my mind by her impulsive behavior to create a character she has in the bedroom. In my everyday life I live on a routine . I love my walks, my food, but dating a nut really changes what I see with the every day life of men and women. When they have their very outlook on life form lousy jobs it gives you the impression-less enthusiastic american. You know these people, the ones that walk by with their heads down, they became human robots. Ah finally done with my walk with her that night. In my pocket I find the key for a hallway with locked doors and my key I own to open only one of those locked doors. My mind sees the others around me so miserable and lost. "Do they even have empathy or is the dollar the only way they become comfortable enough to communicate with one another? " I really wonder, or is It the community that I see that lives in a bubble of selfless, meaningless existence. Slaves to their work... Ha! Their work! Their work that supports their families and enables them to maybe go out once a week to eat at family restaurant. I see the world in black in white, but behind these closed doors in their personal life they lead very different life, in a much very different way. Their imaginations only seem to expose who they really are as long as it is in their secure homes where they believe their secrete perversions hidden away from the public eye wont be known to rest of the world as long if it is behind locked doors. I dated a normal mundane woman in her early 30's 4 months ago, normal life , normal job, but a little wine and good food go along way because only then does she become more comfortable around me and the next thing I know we are in the bedroom discovering new exciting things with her secrete perverse side of her. She is a donna matrix, and now has me on my knees and punishes me and scratches my back, leaving her nail marks on my exposed flesh. She puts on her high heels on and stands on my back and puts her lit cigarette out on my exposed flesh as she whispers very naughty things into my ears. Then she proceeds to bite my neck and tell me that I must except the pain of love. Everyday people we pass by, only to be normal to the naked eye until we find out who they really are in the bedroom.

As I sit wondering on in that night where nothing really important came about, I heard sirens outside my crappy apartment. Ah, the city is so alive. It is so scummy outside on the the street I live on. 2;30 a.m. Damn! I can't sleep again. So I lie awake looking at the clock on the wall. The room is dark and silent except for the ticking of the old clock I purchased a while back at some shitty flea market a couple of years ago. The packet a marlboro red 100's by my bead. Red white with that black writing on the packet of cigarettes I have been using, So many nights laying awake with a lit cigarette in my right hand, I stare at the ****ing clock on the wall of my shitty one bedroom apartment. I was thinking of Mary again. What she told me the previous night and how that conversation just seems to replay over and over again in my mind, letting me drift off into sleep. The clock on the wall is ticking and it is starting to annoy me. So I inhale the last puff and put the cigarette out, Damn! I still can't sleep...... Meanwhile without even suspecting anyone at 2:30 a.m. to visit me that early I hear a knocking on the door. What the ****? Who the hell could that be?

I start to get up slowly, but I hesitate for a moment with my bad imagination leading my mind to paranoid delusional thoughts. Is it a robber? Is it the police? The knocking continues. Then I hear her voice. It is Mary again. I get up stumbling out of bed with a five o'clock shadow and make my way to the door. She seemed to be drunk and out of it again. So I open the door and almost immediately she falls into my arms. She was afraid and crying. I hold her close to my chest and say to her its okay, its okay. She just wanted to see me. Mary wears a lot of make up and the tears in her eyes let her eye shadow run down her cheeks. Then I offer her a cigarette and start to brew up some coffee. Mary's job at night is being an exotic dancer down at this hole in the wall joint 3 blocks away from my apartment. She was hurt that evening again and now the clock on the wall was starting to tick even louder. So after brewing up a cup of some generic **** coffee we talk. We talk about anything, the t.v. shows we watch, the idiots who earn money for doing stupid idiotic acting on mainstream television. I crack a joke and out of nowhere Mary starts kissing me. I pull back away from her because I could smell the vodka on her breath. She just will not stop forcing herself on to me. At these moments in my life I think that it is so wrong to take advantage of a scared drunk insecure woman, but I am distracted by that damn ticking on the wall from that ****ing old clock. I tell to sober up and give her a blanket to sleep on my couch. This is where my conscious starts to act up. Is it the devil telling me to go for it, let her pass out and get a feel, and then out of nowhere she just starts to give me a lap dance. "I can't do this," as I think to myself, but she is so persistent to make me want her.

I ask if the coffee has made her sober up just a bit so she could maybe decide that the night is over and go home, but she just doesn't want to leave and she wants to have sex on top of all the bad **** she just went through early that night. So I get up and walk into the kitchen and light another cigarette to keep myself from taking advantage of this lady with issues. That damn clock is starting to piss me off now. So I grab a hammer from the countertop I had left earlier that night from hanging a picture on the wall and I break the ****ing clock. Mary watches the whole crazy impulsive destructive scene and it turns her on even more. AH.... Silence finally, but going back into the living room I find mary standing in front of me completely naked now. "Oh my god," I think she is going to have sex with me in a drunk state. So I just get out of the apartment and go on a walk. When I return a half hour later I find a note on the table with some money. Mary must have left and she left me 15 dollars to buy a new clock.