Odysseus needs a job he calls pima community college art department chairperson sends her his resume she does not respond after a week he catches her on phone she says he lacks proper credentials laughs to himself his whole life never worked lucrative or reputable position gets job working at thrift store wacky group of coworkers customers store frequently smells like public latrine job expires after 7 weeks he gets better paying job working at record exchange Odysseus always loved music everyday he learns new artist or band his coworkers are at least half his age they pester him about being slow on keyboard he never learned to type neither he nor his generation could have foreseen future would revolve around keyboard he plods on register keys people smile politely kids he works with fly fast making many keyboard mistakes November 29 2001 george harrison dies of cancer he is 58 years old Odysseus recognizes he is from past world different era of contrasting standards ‘80’s behavior is totally unbefitting let alone ‘60’s beliefs it is 2002 and one badly chosen word is sure to send someone flying off the handle he watches his language carefully co-workers mostly born in 1980’s grew up in 1990’s they live indifferent to hopelessness he struggles to bear none of them believe in higher power music is their religion he wonders what their visions concerns for humanity are? they seem addicted to consumption as if it is end in itself he questions what is hidden at root of their absorption? loneliness? despair? apathy? absence of vision? where is their rage against social conversion current administration? he warns them about homeland security act privacy infringement increased government secrecy power they shrug their shoulders why aren’t they looking for answers? why don’t they dissent? do they care where world is going? he realizes they will have to learn for themselves few coworkers read literature or know painters philosophy their passions are video games marijuana “star wars” most of them are extremely bright more informed than he often Odysseus needs to ask questions they know answers to right off the bat he is like winsome uncle who puts up with their unremitting teasing “hey you old hippie punk rocker get you fiber in today? stools looking a little loose! peace out old man” in peculiar way he finds enough belonging he so desperately needs they tell him stories about their friends *** addictions eating disorders futile deaths he is bowled over by how young they are to know such stuff job includes health insurance which is something he has not had since Dad was alive having some cash flowing in he buys laptop computer with high-speed connection cell phone trades in toyota for truck opens crate of writings he abandoned in ‘80’s begins to rewrite story sits blurry eyed in front of computer screen his motivation has always been to tell truth as he knows it he wonders what ramifications his labor will bring positive or negative results? he guesses his story will sound like children’s fable in stark brutality of distant future october 2002 3 week ****** spree terrorizes maryland virginia  district of columbia 10 people killed 3 critically wounded police believe white van responsible october 24 man and 17-year-old boy arrested in blue chevy caprice juvenile is shooter assailants linked to string of random murders including unsolved shooting of man at golf course in tucson Odysseus mentions incident at work speaks of prevailing terror madness in america co-workers kid tell him he is crazy “did you see a white van parked outside the store Odys?” they seem desensitized to increasing national atmosphere of anger panic or perhaps they are overwhelmed by weight trauma of modern life lie after lie prevailing  havoc slaughter make for dull numbness in world they know suicide is compelling option december 22nd 2002 joe strummer dies from heart failure at age 50 Odysseus’s eyes wet he adored the clash everything they stood for loved joe strummer and mescaleros he plays “global a go-go” over and over listens sings along with first track “johnny appleseed” march 2003 president bush launches attack against iraq united states seems drunk with “shock and awe” zealous blind patriotism many people politicians countries around globe question unproven line of reasoning saddam hussein possesses “weapons of mass destruction” Odysseus gripes “not another **** vietnam” record company allows employees to check out take home used product Odysseus stopped watching movies in 1980’s he has lots of catching up to do particularly likes “natural born killers” “american history x” “american ******” “fight club” “way of the gun” “******” “king of new york” “basquiat” “frida” “*******” “before night falls” “quills” “requiem for a dream” “vanilla sky” “boys don’t cry” “being john malkovich” “adaptation” “kids” “lost in translation” “25th hour” “28 days later” “monster” “city of god” “gangs of new york” “**** bill” list goes on perfect circle becomes his favorite band followed by tool lacuna coil my morning jacket brian jonestown massacre flaming lips dredg drive-by truckers dropkick murphys flogging mollies nofx stereophonics eels weakerthans centro-matic califone godspeed you black emperor magnetic fields fiery furnaces dresden dolls smog granddaddy calexico howie gelb sufjan stevens warren haynes dax riggs john vanderslice alejandro escovedo sean paul elephant man bjork p. j. harvey ani difranco aimee mann cat power sophie b. hawkins kathleen edwards mia doi todd kimya dawson regina spektor carina round neko case fiona apple nina nastasia beth gibbons mirah rasputina dr. dre talib kweli immortal technique murs slug atmosphere trick daddy eazy-e tricky list goes on october 21 2003 elliott smith commits suicide stabbing 2 wounds into his chest Odysseus thinks about music when jimi hendrix stood up at woodstock deconstructing national anthem on guitar it took courage when punk emerged with ugly screechy sounds attempting to divorce itself from melodious harmonies of 1970s complacent crosby stills nash  the dead kennedys and *** pistol did not pander to conventional commercial success what they performed were desperate gutsy songs trying to reclaim music rock’n’roll is no longer about inventing instead it imitates its glorious past hip-hop and rap come nearest to risking rebellion but are caught in gangsterism infantile self-adulation no longer does music offer vision of what is or could be instead it conjures looping escapism from hopelessness of modern life he continues working at record shop for several years store contains every genre of music cinema he grows weary of retail sales weary of higher-ups constantly changing rules dictating what to do head manager is manipulative drama queen thrives on crisis once in private admits stealing from company Odysseus nods not knowing what to say head manager works Odysseus hard keeps him down atmosphere of conspiracy betrayal hang at start of each day assistant manager routinely taunts berates bullies teases regularly calls Odysseus “dumb-****” or “****-up” other times laughs after goading Odysseus to flinch eventually bully backs off and they become friends retail pushes Odysseus to brink of misanthropy corporation requires all employees to exercise overt courteousness while serving a public of disrespectful gang bangers demanding “show me black market brotha lynch mac dre why ya godda keep dat **** behind da counter? dat’s ****** up hey old man i ain’t got all day” it always amazes him when shoplifter is caught with product stuffed down his pants thief blatantly states “i didn’t do it i don’t know how that got there” thanksgiving through christmas to new years is most swarming stressful he feels like automaton greeting customer scanning product looking at screen to see if price agrees with product typing money amount counting money into drawer counting money out handing change to customer handing customer product receipt next customer cockroach capitalism packs of masses line up in endless stream of needs stupid remarks job also involves trade appraising condition value resale probability of cds dvds video games tapes vhs vinyl news of  iraq war gets dismal mounting civilian casualties suicide bombers hostages beheadings beginning of 2004 reports of torture ****** psychological abuse **** ****** ****** of prisoners at abu ghraib prison guantanamo bay white house cover-ups denials growing insurgency increasing u.s. body count other costs he thinks about men and women who are so much braver than him then comes re-election and lavish republican parties parades cheney rumsfeld tom delay and whole regime smirk portentously on tv none of it makes sense anymore “we the people of the united states” what does it mean? the dreams and aspirations of his generation have long since faded away he is citizen of forgotten past current world is barbaric place he barely recognizes there are real pirates with machetes rocket launchers on the seas big drug corporations hiding harmful findings kidnapped children abandoned children crooked politicians corruption at every level of society horrifying stories daily ******* priests slave markets extreme heinous cruelties abruptly everyone is acknowledging society is worsening life is not the same he does not understand people and certainly does not understand america or the world he remembers when all could be so good modern existence has turned everything into madness what happened to lessons of history? it is as if Odysseus fell asleep and when he woke everything is changed he is mistaken about what he thinks he knows feels pity for people america pity disgust sorrow he misses his dog

i have to admit...

Bulgarian prostitutes

are the most responsible
women i've ever known...

condoms? full bodied
latex?

      contraception pills?

cam s videos?

                 my my....
what a ******* rainbow!


so conversation is
the supposedly "new ****"?
ahead of my "time"...

if ever coincidentally,
the ideal escapism /
entrapment...

          twangy twangy...
American accent
like the sound of a Boston banjo...
the ******* to boot,
with it...

              that awkward uncle?
and some teenage girl making a video
blog?
about how difficult it was
to enter a video-convention?
what is, and what isn't, funny?

      i tuned into the drama brigade...
like you might tune into
the current MTV with teenage moms...

she's bloated, and
making extra making
pregnant teen jerking off videos?!
**** me...
               that's about a month
that has just disappeared from
my calendar!

           Murphy, meet dropkick
McMurphy...
     McMurphy,
meet kayleigh McDurmut...
yeah...
that one... balancing
the one legged hop and spew...

personally?
i like watching videos of 14 old girls...
gets me in the mood,
of anticipating fatherhood...
which, given my drinking...
will never materialize...

in terms of ****?
i already overstated the excesses of
condoms...
   and what, could always become,
the Latino **** crisis of
a Cuban post-scriptum...
            personally?
i don't appreciate unnecessary
surprises?
  pro-life or alternatively...
   i don't like surprises...
not those kind of surprises...
        esp. involved in trans-nationalism
******* strap-on tendencies
of adhered to normalizations...
no...
     sorry...
L O V E... doesn't spell out
    vole...
        or whatever variant...
i wouldn't even have cared to object
to sustaining a unit of family,
by invigorating the concept of
Anastasia!
            bribing an orphan to
fake a biological clockwork of...
supposing you weren't mine...
  but my mind, which you have began to
ingest...
      what is this, folly,
this geneticist argument about,
both the act of procreation,
and the necessity of the said act,
with the attached confinement of
pursuing the tag of proclaiming
a continuum of genes?!
      i can't, and i won't figure it out...
**** it...
         sad old "uncle" syndrome...
     but a sigh of relief...
i'm actually looking for pornographic
alternatives...
         it doesn't actually begin or end
within the confines of extremity...
.gif, pictures, fine art...
     14 year old girls making
autobiographical videos...
   and? less *******,
and more... giggling...
               could i have had the tenacity
of becoming, a father!
   my god!

i guess a man will always find
adopting a child, more appealing...
to the consensus of
the anti-thesis of a prodigy...
once he has allowed himself
a chance...
to pet, an animal.

Punk Rock John introduced himself to me at my first show. He said, “kid.. protect your teeth, do NOT lick the walls, and don’t ******* the crusty’s. If you get cut, let it bleed– you’ll be fine.”
I was 15 years old, thinking about unzipping my veins. And while most 15 year olds would have done drugs or written a ******* poem, I went to ****** bars and basements and gave my best friends black eyes.

For the first time in my life, I knew that when I fell, someone was gonna pick me up. That first mosh pit was not a quiet conversation about suicide, it was Punk Rock John telling me, “Hey *******! Don’t **** yourself! Don’t waste your unscarred knuckles.” My rage bloomed. Why hate myself when I can hate parents, high school, the radio, record stores, magazines, corporations, yuppies, my parents, cops, rain, sunshine, beach days, phone books, and tiny ******* cupcakes? *******, if that first day of punk didn’t sound like Buddy Holly played back, double time, distorted, compressed into four chords.

The first time I saw Punk Rock John, he was halfway through a frontflip stage dive, and he landed directly on me. He picked me up, dusted me off, and threw me back in the pit. Punk Rock John was 6’4, had hands the size a kick drum, and he smelled like a 20-year rain. He was Noah. He was our shepherd. One time, I was getting ready to dropkick some metal kid when John got me in a headlock and said, “quit ******* around, Neil! You don’t know who this kid’s friends are, and I ain’t putting you out if they set you on fire.”

John told us, “the church of punk rock was always open. If you wanna pray, just crank up the stereo until your ears bleed. If you wanna pray, just grab your brothers and sing! Sing out of tune, sing the wrong words- just sing! Loud!”

But then some out-of-town skin dropped a guillotine knifeblade into John’s skull. The blood was pouring from his ears. He was dead before he hit the ground. John brought me into a world where I felt loved, and that world took him away. I buried my leather jacket, patched the holes in my jeans, and tried to pluck the chords like stitches from my chest.. but John still speaks to me. When the world is larger than I am, when my chest is a vice.. I put that needle on the record, I turn it up until I can’t hear ****, and I tell myself: as long as I have hands, I can break something. As long as we can breathe, we can sing. As long as I can remember, I will hear him– he says, “kid, you’ll be fine.”

dropkick Murphys.....smoky pubs, height of Irish rough voiced songs, Celtic gifts

Dropkick they call him
This sweetheart of mine
He's useless, no future
I say give him some time
But time is dwindling for this aching soul
The need for substance to make him feel whole
Rising after noon
Impending doom
I love him I need him he'll be something... Soon

Give a shout of love out to Boston. Lost in translation I'll create this poem for a lost daughter or son.
A new war has been waged, well...heh heh. We've already won.
Spun out from a night of drinking wine, I'll type another line.
Killing people over selfish, religious beliefs, destroys happiness by the ton.
Are YOU ******* happy? Are YOU ******* done.
Plans to **** out weak people surely doesn't sound like fun.
Your **** stinks. No pun intended. Words on the internet should never make you offended.
Lend a helping hand for the Earth, or waste away in the dirt.
Beautiful women get slaughtered like cattle, in a dress or a skirt.
We'll have fun and we'll flirt. Still caring for others as they get swallowed by hurt.
Knowledge is power they say, so I'll take off my only shirt.
Give it to someone that needs it, so they may pay it forward to another.
My sister and brother, from another father and mother, read these words carefully, while haters turn into lovers. Hearts and minds full of love, kindness swoops down like a dove. Shove another McDonald's cheeseburger in your face and see your health drain away. Think of the animals that get slaughtered in warehouses each day.
Pray for fertile soil in April AND May. Fool YOURself into a thought that treating animals kindly isn't okay. Roam free in the grass and the hay, while slaughtering axes sweep around, sprays blood and slays. Helping each other day by day IS the new craze.
A daze of happiness turns frowns upside down with a smile and grin.
The Dropkick Murphys knows whats up.
For Boston....for Boston....for BOSTON!

Feather the links now,
I'm hoppity wide.
My self sight may shrink
Til I stumble my stride.

I'm often the cutter,
Of wit, more than skin.
Attack me with caution as
Meet wears patience thin.

I'll dropkick your efforts,
And sweat through your pores.
My tongue, I'll not *****
While your ears left with sores.

My buy polar bearings
Have spun me til stressed.
You best let me be now,
My button's depressed.

a 2nd reiteration
listening to
dropkick murphys'
song
i'm shipping off to
Boston...

you ******* quasi-paddies
and Iraqi Aladdins
have ****** up "my"...
******* jukebox!

no music video ever came
with a ******* news channel
recommendation!

wankers!
   sprat boilers!
  brat spanking fetishists!

give me my ******* jukebox
back... you *******:
toddler's little pinky
wankers off!

it's not enough that
the blood starts to boil...
my thinking becomes
all scrambled!

i turn into a Danzig hunger-strike
when i don't get
to listen to new music!

wankie ***** wankie *****...
sure...
but when i ******* while
taking a **** and taking a ****...
i don't make a *******
video out of it, do i?!

juggernaut... juggernaut...
juggernaut...
  say it thrice like Beetlejuice...
and... well... shazam!
a rhino appears!

i'm taking prisoners...
the ones attached to the charge,
as they scream...
pretending to... "tag along".

give my jukebox back you
******* invertebrates!

You could be so pretty
if
your hair was straight
or at least neat 
and not fire engine red

You could look so lovely
If 
you didn't insist on wearing
tatty jeans
Yellow Dr Marten boots
Dropkick Murphys tees
and you weren't covered in tattoos

You could have a better life
If
You hadn't married
that blue eyed
empty pocket
*** smoking
dreamer

You could have more time to clean
If 
you didn't waste it
writing pointless poems
with your head in the clouds
listening to that awful racket

You could be more ladylike
If 
you didn't attend protests
railing against politics
didn't smoke, drink,
swear like a sailor
and stayed away from mosh pits.

You could be better
If 
you were a lot more me
and a hell of a lot less you
After all I've done
You were not what I was expecting..

Well, it was good talking to you
I love you mum
I love you too..
Lets do this again soon!

brate be
seven feet
balkan handz

yugo betrugo
atm tear it off
toni da serb
rade belgrade

brate be seven feet
balkan dropkick
es ist optik
es ist kopffick

we so yibbish
we so yibbish
diz is fibbish
gimme widdish

diz be the last day
of yous ridiculous stay
on this world
last day of ya stay

gimme your girl
gimme da cash
para be stammel
du hammel ik fick dich

he a sturdy kidic
aber keine wichtig!

come over and watch
gimme some cash
i'll cut ya head off
yous trash
ain't no madov
ya
know the code bro

inspire me baby
shorty now a sporty
nach dieser feier

gimme some raki
my pantz be khaki
benz like stasi you
know the code joe

gimme gimme gimme
bibi bibi bibi

ain't no real like
the copy of a copy
du opfer ich schneide
deinen kopf ab
eingeweide
quill'n
you gotz to chill

we so yibbish
we so yibbish
diz is fibbish
gimme widdish

jacket originally stolen
cevape and börek
para and babas
we don't care yeah

life be quick
touch my d##k
rub my d##k
life too quick

energy months
mothman *****
michael myers' titts
hyper years

feel me like an o.g.
you know the code brate
wenn ich deine fresse schlage

yugo betrugo
ebonics we got this
yugo betrugo
brate in die fresse pate

we so yibbish
we so yibbish
diz is fibbish
gimme widdish

ain't nothing new
check the views
just one fu##in fan
will burn ya jam

hip hop colors
flip flop mamas
beach feelingz
we need ringz:

MASSIVE

we need chainz:

CUBAN LINK NECKLACE 1 KG CLASSIC

First I start off with one jab to my own jaw,
Then I kick myself in the nuts however that is possible,
I'll rip and tear my hair out,
Rubbing soap in my eyes to add to the fun.

I twist my ******* until they are good and purple,
Getting a running start so I can jump through a door head first.
I dropkick a wooden slab with nails pointing out of it.

I'll take an razor and rapidly shave my face with no cream,
Then pouring vinegar onto the cuts,
I'll dunk my head into the toilet and pull the handle,
In order to conduct a self swirly.

I open my tackle box for fishing,
And find countless giant hooks for bass,
Sticking one through my cheek,
Then I'll flop around on the ground covered in thumb tacks.

Hydrofluoric acid baths are so heavenly,
Kissing a piranha on the mouth,
He naws on my lips as I slam my body into a mirror,
What happens next, is what I love the most.

I'll lay three boxes of legos on the ground,
Nice and flat they hold with anticipation,
I'll jump on them so gracefully,
River dancing while I stick a stun gun up my ***.

Mixing *****,
Bleach,
And Frank's hot sauce in a bucket,
I dip my feet in them after my lego dance.
The pain is so wonderfully jolting through my body,
As I jump into a pool with toasters and microwaves plugged into a power strip.

I wanna tickle the *** of a horse with a feather,
So it kicks me straight in the throat,
Then have the New York Giants run across my body In their cleats to the field,
After the game, they wipe the dirt off their cleats on my face.

I'd like to look down the barrel of a Red Ryder,
Then pull the trigger as the BB bounces off of my pupil,
I'll wash my eye out with nail polish remover,
Following that,
I'll drive a car down a hill with no breaks.

I want Freddy Kruger to play with my hair,
While Edward Scissorhands massages my back,
I'll kiss medusa with ******,
And have her snakes nibble on my ears.

I'll take a double headed cobra and floss my **** cheeks with it,
I'll tongue punch the **** box of Honey Booboo's mom,
I'll stick my head in a bee hive,
And run on a treadmill shaking it,
Until each bee stings my entire face.

I'll pull my own teeth out with pliers,
And have the same act done for my finger nails,
Rubbing my hands together covered in mineral ice,

Spray painting a target on the ground,
I'll set a ten foot ladder up next to it,
Climbing to the top of said ladder,
I jump off head first,
Landing straight on the bulls eye.

I'll swim right into a hurricane,
After I ate an entire steak dinner,
An earthquake causing the hurricane to become a tsunami,
I ride the tsunami straight into a building, where the building collapses onto my back.

I'll line up salt like *******,
And roll a dollar up snorting it continuously,
I'll take a razor blade and cut the lines off of my fingerprints and hands,
Then play the guitar like Eric Clapton.

I'd tie a rope to my genitals, then set up a stool to a ceiling fan,
Where the other end of the rope would be,
And kick the stool,
Leaving me hanging by my ******* and ***** from the ceiling.

I would do any of these sadistic,
horrific,
agonizing,
painful,
evil,
Atrocious things to myself,
Before I'd ever take you back again.