Just another po'boy

I have recently discovered a new found appreciation for the conservative life. Really of life without money. Its been a bit difficult but enlightening the past few months.


I've always related to the life of the artist....the starving kind. Desperate only to work on your art. Eating and making money come last. Things that inspire and aid to the creative process are of course welcome: cigarettes, lazy walks and moments to ponder, whiskey. So here I am, penniless. My fridge is home to a few beers, a couple eggs, and random condiments. Although I'm quite far from starving, or finishing one hopeless piece of art. The lack of food and money has definitely opened my eyes to how terribly wasteful I can become. My horoscope tells me "when you stop caring so much about how much money you have among other physical concerns, you are starting to discover an inner harmony that is trying to replace the physical with the spiritual. You must let this grow without killing the part of you that provides sustenance." I like this idea and will definitely try to avoid killing a part of myself.

As most know, there is little we need in life. Food, water, shelter, and social interactions to keep us sane. I am very far from being that starving artist but sometimes dream about what it could be like, maybe even what it will be like. I image living in some ramshackle apartment, a weathered light brown tone throughout the room. Wallpaper falling of the wall. An old iron bed and small dresser as furniture. A view of the the city beyond and the slums below. But overall happy and malnourished.

To bad it'll never be that rough. I live way too privileged a life to end up in that desperate, wonderful scenario. I can still aim for the closest thing. Maybe staying in a crowded, immensely cheap hostel in some far away country and maybe eventually even a small, crappy apartment. These things could be possible still. I could be hard on cash, but I will have a laptop (not the old typewriter I imaged). Someday this all could be true...sooner than you think even. After school, I might just drop everything to lead this dream-driven, humble life, traveling the globe for new adventures. What I really hate is that this whole idea is nearly a mold now, fashioned from of decades of hipsters bragging about themselves. Whatever...it might be an easy mold to fit into, but its one that takes a lot of guts nonetheless.

Enough unedited, ranting for one day. I haven't had much to do lately.

Springfield Affair

I need to come clean. I have been having an affair; I'm so sorry Fayetteville. It is with another town, but don't worry, not as pretty as you! Her name is Springfield, I don't think you have ever met. She lives in Missouri. I met her through my ex-Branson, and we had a bit of a history already, but it only got serious recently; I promise. I am so so sorry.

So I'm back in Fayetteville, trying to settled back into my overly-relaxed life after another spectacular weekend in Springfield. I have made frequent visits to S-town in the past and have always left with nothing more than a smile on my face and lint in my pocket. My liaison with Springfield has been a good one, and I always find myself in this situation afterward: trying to come back to terms with reality. This, I think, is why affairs are so popular. Its an escape from the humdrum life you normally lead, to a much more sexy, fun one. Of course, affairs can never last because most schmucks think they can't bare the secret any longer. Pansies. I have held a great position in with both of my leading ladies. I spend most of the time with Fayetteville on the weekdays, and on the occational hot tumultuous weekend, I visit Springfield.

Perhaps, I should explain my attraction for this far way town. A long friend of mine, Alyssa, moved to Springfield about a year ago to start school again, the traditional way, and btw is still in it (good job! stick with it!). Anyway, she found a cool affordable house right off of campus. To her surprise, so did many international students. Soon enough, Alyssa's became a private club, Casa de Alyssa, The Peach Room, Beer Pong Paradise, The Hostel, The Brothel, etc. and is now well known as a place to get cheap beer, good music, and a free place to sleep (she's a good cuddler).

Over the months, many a people have stepped through those doors: Saudis, Frenchies, Columbians, Venezuelans, Indians, Africans....you name it - that language has been heard inside. It is a melting pot where the common ingredients include: Pabst, Marlboros, some Ks of L among many others, and spiced with different accents.

I went up last weekend, and actually stayed with Springfield for two nights instead of the typical one. Which, I of course, got shit for from the fam. I was greeted by Lulu, my current wife, and crazy red head. Usually things stay pretty smooth until around 11 pm, so we watched Underworld, and Alyssa cuddled with Jonathan (see what I mean) on the couch. After the sun when down, some of my favorite people arrived, Dulce the Venezuelan, Carolina from Columbia, Alex a Frenchie, and Carrie the wanna-be-French American girl.

Some of the funniest, and socially dangerous, things can happen when alcohol gets mixed with cultural ignorance. In this case, it was the former. As a typical circle-of-death rule allows, we were going around naming continents. To the surprise of all modern intellectuals down to the age of 10, not everyone in the educated world agrees on the exact number of large land masses. Of course, you might say, "it can be debated". uh...no, it can't. It already has been for centuries and an answer has been found. Before reading on, stop and think of the answer yourself, and we'll see which side of this highly controversial topic you stand on.

The answer is 7. 7 continents!!! Unless you were on Xanex throughout high school, possible but still no excuse, or you are from Franceland, there is no other argument! First and foremost, most people I have met from France are very smart, but the illusion of only 5 continents is ridiculous. Second, North and South American are not even connected! And what is Antartica? A gigantic ice cube?!
The remedy to any disagreement can always be a group water fight, which soon ensued. I even said "No water tonight!" after recalling my previous visit. What is it with these people!? My body still hurts from that night ;) The funny thing is, when you pour water on Dulce, her immediate reaction is to hug the person standing closest to her. I'm sure some hoped their Chia Pets would do the same, but instead Hurricane Dulcita is unleashed! Panic and mayhem break out leaving everyone bruised and sore the next day. "Tengo raton!"

Overall, I am happy to have met everyone I have through this scandalous affair. My recent run- ins with the latinos have brought fun memories, my favorite being salsa night. I've never seen a booty shake so fast! Evolution, baby, at it's best.

This affair is far from over, and I hope Fayetteville can live with that, and maybe, one day, forgive me.

The intruder

3:42 P.M. Monday, June 1st

The apartment was dark, the cheap blinds blocking out the bright heat of summer outside. Aside from the occasional passing dump truck or fire engine, it was quiet as I drifted into unwarranted sleep.

"BANG, BANG, BANG!!!" The walls shook from the unexpected disturbance. Holy fuck! Who the hell's that?! What a way to wake up! My long-dormant survival instincts tried to aid the situation as I immediately rolled off the bed and onto the floor. Hide! Although this remained my central strategy, I'm not sure if I would have made it long back in those days when your survival instincts kept you alive.

"BANG, BANG, BANG!!! Open the door!" I was laying on the carpet next to my bed wondering which locks I had used. After army crawling into the living room, I slowly raised myself eye-level with the view hole. A man with a handlebar mustache and sunglasses was standing off to the side of the door. The cable company?! I didn't think they'd send a hit man! I had been avoiding the cable company for some time now. They wanted to take my box, but if they did, the re installment costs would be terrible! Besides, I have every intention of turning my cable back on soon enough.

Okay, he'll leave soon...bastard. What does he think? Banging my door down will make me want to cooperate?? Yeah right! I'm not stupid.

My heart was racing as I hovered between the bed room and living room trying not to make a sound.

"BANG, BANG, BANG!!!" The pictures shook on the wall. This guy's relentless! He must be a professional. Then I heard a familiar sound. Jiggling. The doorknob rattled as the man outside tried to see if it was locked. "I know you're in there!" I heard the sound of a key jamming into the deadbolt, and it unlatched....my stomach dropped.

The door opened with a slam as it caught the chain, the snapping sound of the door frame under stain. "Hey! Who are you?!" I yelled with defiance. I ran to the door. The hit man was trying to shove his head though the opening yelling, "Let me in!"

My chest was pounding, and my head was a fog. The guy was scrambling to get the chain undone. In a fury, I rushed over to grab a bar stool, ready to defend myself. I reached down and leached onto the bottom legs. Behind me, the door swung open with a thud against the wall. A gust of hot air invaded the room.

With everything I had, I lurched the stool toward the person behind me. It was all a blur.

"Crack!" I made contact with the side of his head. His hat and the bar stool flew across the room as the guy fell to floor. Holy shit! I knocked him out! I guess my survival instincts weren't so rusty after all. The man was holding a small peach colored piece of paper in his hand. I reached down to pick it up and it read, "URGENT NOTICE." Huh?

I walked over to retrieve the man's hat. As I lifted it off the kitchen floor, I read the front, "Pierce Properties." It was my landlord. Crap.