Bulletproof Blog Entry

• Kevin Scampoli works the graveyard shift,
  

• The new Elvis Costello iTunes Originals album is wonderful. It contains twenty-four tracks, twelve of which being insightful, spoken word recordings pertaining to the twelve songs selected by E.C. himself for the release. He even re-records a handful of them in the studio, it's great to hear songs like Little Triggers, Kid About It, and Motel Matches revisited. After listening to this I have developed a new found appreciation for Invasion Hit Parade.

• Congratulations to East Side Dave and Casey for their marriage, set to be broadcast on Ron & Fez this morning. I will be listening, sniffling, and enjoying.

• Superbad Rated R Trailer:

• Legendary Scrubs moments:

Hunky Dory

Music: "Blood & Chocolate" - Elvis Costello & The Attractions

Oh! You pretty things! I am officially a survivor of that Wal*Mart remodeling experiment, and I will come out of it with a full time position and raise. This is highlighted by the fact that I will receive another, larger raise in the coming month. The occupational accolades and praise make saving for Los Angeles a much easier task.

Writing has not come easy lately. This entry, up to the point of this sentence, has been two days in the making.

In closing... the new Clark & Michael has been posted. It is Wednesday, after all.

I bet she'd be a good drummer...

Music: "Kooks" - Bowie

I am still accused of being a 'striker', yet I am being summoned daily for a conversation.

Just call me if you want to talk to me. I'm not a hard person to get a hold of, I'm not hiding behind skype.

I find it important that the following facts be documented, as the other journal won't exist on the day I look back on this entry:

The ring wasn't really lost, only its importance.
The 'miscarriage' was really an abortion.

Well, I guess that's it.
Kinda knew those.
The latter had been further urged by her mother- making one family member responsible for death, the other for slander.

For whatever reason, she doesn't understand why I care about the child, explaining that she didn't and doesn't care because it was my child, not her's.

Well, I guess the best explanation I could make for my "caring" is pretty simple- reverse our roles as pertains to your child that I was raising.

You never lied about wanting to be pregnant in April, because all I ever heard was what a burden the child would be. You wanted a daddy for the alive kid, but didn't even want to bear the developing one. I felt exactly the opposite.

The rest of her writing was a pathetic diatribe put on as a 'show' for the reader. I'm the horrific man from Black Snake Moan who makes her wince when anybody shows excitement. I oppressed her views, and denounced them as ignorance.

What I did, was I challenged them. I adored her desire to be different, but became turned off by it when I realized it was just her mother's views diluted by a generation. She spoke of her support in multiple movements of women, feminism- but really used it as an excuse for her laziness, not wanting to wear a bra or to put on deodorant. Simple questions I asked out of curiosity were met with ignorance covered up by frustration and anger.


- "What rights do you have left to fight for?"
- "%^!%&$!"
(Some Yeah Yeah Yeahs song in the background.)


I never wanted to be changed, I never attempted to change her. I wanted to better understand these 'political' movements and views that she didn't even understand.

She has an impressionable mind, one that I never attempted to mold. She's been taken advantage of by her own family, and it continues. There's a new "husband" (a term I've never used more loosely), her fourth in less than as many years, to play the "hero" in her life.

I don't write in here to appease a ringless spouse, mother, or grandmother. I do not write maliciously just to, how you say, "piss (somebody) off". My feelings are true, I don't fake happiness or those other pesky feelings.

I will not change my life over your threats. I have no reason to go into hiding or "keep my life personal"- I know who's reading this, and I'm glad they've become fans. Watch the videos on your way out.

A page in a blog.

steph--spent (9:03:05 AM): you were far away, making it an adventure. i trusted you to some extent, was attracted to you because you were intelligent, but mostly because I didn't know if you were going to be kind to me or an asshole from day to day and that excited me more than anything. you were emotionaly unavaible. I guess I also knew you'd never love me and id just become a line in a poem or a page in a blog.

The following videos are the two funniest things I've seen in a long time, and deserve their very own blog entry.

Ch-ch-ch-changes...

Music: Hunky Dory - David Bowie

I am seriously thinking about taking up an offer to live in Los Angeles. It'll give me the chance to get a new library card, and to meet new people. The opportunity arrives from somebody I've been e-buddies with for years through Livejournal and Myspace, each conversation consisted of me, without shame, confessing my internet love for her.

The idea came up when her current roommate (who, ironically, is from Boston) was going to move back East. There is now a chance that he will be staying, but if he does they want to move into a new place with three bedrooms. I fit in the equation regardless, and I can't see myself passing it up.

At my age, during this period of my life, it is the best change I can make. I will be able to take classes out in CA, just the same as I would if I were to stay where I am now. I'll also be able to say I've lived in Boston, Las Vegas, and Los Angeles. The only logical progression from there would be to London.

The desert life is burnt out for me. I've had my cds stolen by an asian lover, I've had sex in a stolen car, I've been engaged, I've played daddy, I've been court tried.

There's no telling if the change will be permanent, but I can't see any place I live being permanent right now. I do know that if I start school out there, it'll mean that I plan on staying for a long while. There's no telling who I'll meet, or what'll happen from there.

I can see that there is an incredible group of people awaiting me in LA. Looking back at my first entry in this blog, it seems as though the last couple months have been building up to this.

Literary Phoney.

Literary Slumber gives me a forum to flex my grammatical muscles drunkenly for a very small audience that consists of either family members or ex lovers whom are putting me through the corrupt American legal system. The only rule I impose and attempt to enforce is "Dont let this become a livejournal." With the recent and upcoming drama, we're going to tip-toe that LJ line very frequently this Summer.

For those following the ongoing L.S. story lines, I have returned to eating in a big big way. I am a man who loves food. Silly trials like life-altering depression can only avert my pizza gaze for so long. That is how my body keeps itself in check. Every few months it'll decide to starve itself for any number of hours, allowing the previous weeks of satisfaction to appropriately cleanse themselves. It's the numbing stomach pains I'd like to avoid- those are a little rarer, every eight months or so, yet still too frequent. Luckily I've never suffered one of those while in the company of a lover- it typically begins, middles, and ends with me near-tears in a running bath-tub like Turk after a nightful of steak.

What an odd paragraph.

I want to major in English when I go back to school. I want to pursue the whole writing gimmick, and I want to master this language. Yet, I find myself censoring a large portion of the literary universe out of my mind.

These names are on the black list:

Sylvia Plath
Ted Hughes
Charles Bukowski
Anais Nin

and others.

There's a collection of Ferlinghetti books I will be ordering this weekend that I nearly stopped myself from even researching.

When any of the above names come up, or whenever I dive too deep into the world that English majors delve into, I feel like I need to share it with Sara. As if I'm intruding on her turf.

Well, not so much intruding, more like she would know or want to know about these books.

I won't allow myself to read a Plath or a Bukowski, because I know I'll be treading ground that is familiar for her. That part is completely understandable to me, as I am still not over the entire situation that has happened and continues to progress.

What isn't understandable for me is how I limit myself from reading new works of poets or authors I've already enjoyed, just because there is an off chance she might like it as well, or because I feel like I'm supposed to share it with her.

She didn't even like my writing, and to this day doesn't buy me as a reader or writer.

Get Happy!!

I know what everybody thinks when they click on that ever-important "Literary Slumber" bookmark, when they take that deep, oceanic breath as they select the one blog on this world wide intranet worth the time to sit next to, pet, and share a coffee with- what's with the sad bitchy shit? What's with this kid telling us about his dead baby and failed engagement all the time? Why is this kid always bringing us down?

My answer, as the primary spokesman for the Literary Slumber franchise, is given in the form of a TOP X LIST (pronounced 'TOP SOMETHING LIST'). This list doesn't have numbers, it doesn't have topics, it doesn't limit your thinking and reading to the number 5, or any particular category. I'm not going to site here and type up movie titles for you people (I love Manhattan, check it out), or album titles (King Of America could be the greatest record ever), or conjure up images of foods (cheesecake) using my words of color.

I'm going to sit back, sip on my stolen Icee, think real hard... and list things I like.

And you...

Well, you're going to navigate the links provided, and share the joy of things that are good with your fellow Literary Slumber fans. The countless readers (fuck off Google Analytics, you can't judge the excitement of the page views and visitors) and numerous nodders have been waiting for this, and I have finally given you all the list you desire.

Enjoy.

Please.



x . ) Boone's Farm
(see 'x . ) Steel Reserve 211')

x . ) Jim & Them (http://www.jimandthem.com)
Some people are just funnier than the remainders. There are human beings who can bounce off one another with the wit and humor that the rest of those on this Earth experiment just can't replicate, and sometimes can't understand. These people are Jim, Jake, and Brandon. Finally African Americans have somebody to look up to, and try to assassinate. Try it.

x . ) Elvis Costello (http://www.elviscostello.info)
He isn't human, at least his brain and voice aren't. Lets all sit here on the world universe web and pretend that anybody else could've even dreamed of releasing an album on par with Brutal Youth, then we can make believe that This Year's Model, Armed Forces, King Of America, and The Delivery Man don't make E.C. better than whatever name we came up with. Second place for the opposition every time. I'm requesting a band besides Squeeze release an album better than Elvis's worst.

x . ) Arrested Development
Michael Bluthe is the father I will strive to mimic. Sure, he doesn't listen- but he loves that damn kid. I am finally doing the 'Season Three Laydown', watching it all the way through in the position of a 180 degree single guy, and I'm enjoying every lonely moment. I give it five x list (something list) stars.

x . ) Clark & Michael (http://www.clarkandmichael.com)

x . ) The Beatles.
Talk about underrated. Have you really listened to Let It Be? Didn't think so. Do you dig a pony? Do you have a feeling? Do you one after 909? I don't care if your answer is 'Yes' or 'No', my responce is: Then listen to the naked version of this album.

x . ) Steel Reserve 211
Drink a tall can, then write your own paragraph.

x . ) Starvation.
Just lose weight.

x . ) This video.

I have no explanation or reason for digging this montrosity. It makes me laugh. I even commented on the damn thing. Speed alteration is the new HIV for we comedic needle sharers.


Keep in mind, this is a tentative list. I might not even like these things in a few hours- I may even post an anti-x (anti-something) list in the morning (I work overnights, my morning is your night). But right now, at this important second- the only moment that will carry this very second- these are the things that you and I adore. I love you for sharing this with me, and I hope that we can live long time together.


-Kevin
Literary Slumber.

All you need is love.

Word on the street is
that is one forgettable face.

When a woman is on the cusp of life (she could be any one of those tender ages) and she is artistic and well-learned in the literary arts. When she craves romantic spontaneity, the experience of a sudden marriage because it makes for an incredible, heart wrenching story. When she feels any amount of self-loathing for her lifestyle, her living beyond her years, her 'lost' youth, her body and figure which survive as a result and reminder of how she is 'supposed' to act or live. When she is all of these things, desires all of these things, and is afraid of all of these things-

Why would she catalyze the aging process because somebody shares a record collection?

Why knock another ten years off, eliminate those experiences and that romance, to shut everything off and live as a house-wife with extremely limited cooking skills?

Most of all...

Why fake love, and fake live?
You got spontaneity for a day, now it's scripted.

l

When I was cruel.

In the passed two months, I haven't been able to listen to the final three minutes of Ron & Fez due to the fact that they end every show with Satellite Of Love, which, ironically, is how I got into Lou Reed. I try to time my XM listening sessions around the '48-52 minute-after-every-third-hour' mark. When I get lazy, or accidentally turn the show on towards the end, I either throw on a random Winamp track or immediately bring up my Myspace to allow another source of music to drown out what used to be my favorite Lou Reed song. I have held my cell phone in my hand at 9:00am, ready to call Ron & Fez to explain that their close-out song now kills me due to the good chance that I may have conceived my dead baby to it.

Speaking of which- babiesrus.com, make it possible to delete a goddamned baby registry, will you? I will not call, I refuse to do more than click. My inability to think about the topic for over thirty seconds handicaps me from making a phone call and destroying the main online reminder.

The whole 'ups and downs' gimmick actually exists. Who would've believed that? I've run out of Scrubs (my balancing medication) to watch, now the room takes over. In reality this ceiling has pretty much witnessed everything. I wish it would keep its mouth shut.

Growing up, I never understood somebody being upset or sad over a relationship that ended. My logic had been "You got to live it, be happy"- the whole "Better to have loved and lost" only simplified to a fifteen year old's mind (or made more complicated). Looking back, I can say that the experiences I've had give a twenty one year old me better ground to stand on for this topic- I just have less desire to talk or type about it right now, despite my constant thinking about it.

I had a great catch-up conversation with Anhvu today. Anhvu is an asian friend I've been associated with online for at least six years. He and I have heard all of each other's stories as pertains to our lives with females, although we sort of drifted during his Virginia Tech years. We're the future of poetry, thus the future of literature. Just think of those lucky saps who get to know us now.

Pounders, Night of 6/8/07

Me: "I wonder why this girl is buying me drinks..."

Jim: "Yeah..."

Drunk Guy: "WHO WANTS THIS DRINK?!!!!!!"

Me: "I wonder why this guy is buying me drinks..."