Friday, February 18, 2011


Dear Diary:

I joined you almost three years ago. I became part of a community, at first reluctantly. As I became more comfortable, I became more willing to reach out, and let others reach in.

Since then, I have noticed two types. Those who write to write, and those who write to read.

Those who write to write do not need an audience, although they know they have one. They do not write to gain any type of fame, nor do they write to be noticed. They do not write for attention. As they write they paint a landscape of life , using as a brush the written word. The imagery created is art, and the writer truly an artist. They ask questions, but find the answers within.

Those who write to read write to an audience, searching for validation from and unknown individual who somehow believes they have the answer to the question posed. They portray an aura of self-importance, yet have the ability to assume the posture of a victim. The profess confidence, yet portray insecurity. There is no imagery, and no great story. There is nothing profound.

I am not self-righteous enough to believe that I am either one or the other. During the best of times I am one, and during the worst of times I am the other, yet for the majority of the time I am a blend. I would like to think I am confident enough to be the former for the most part, but know that I have written purely for an audience in order to be noticed on more than one occasion, leading to an interesting, and yet sad, contrast.

And while this is what I have noticed, there is nothing wrong with either type. Some choose one. Some choose the other. Some choose both. But as long as the type is chosen for the right reason, then that is what is important.

For choosing one for the wrong reason just makes one look desperate.

Tuesday, February 15, 2011


Dear Diary:

Fuck you. No seriously, fuck you.

Work, life in general, fuck you and the bullshit that you throw me everyday. I am leaving.

That's right. My ass is planning a much needed vacation.

There are a lot of things that are going on right now, and a lot of balls that are being juggled at the moment, that if I give too much detail, well, I will eliminate my ability to write about them in the future. This is one reason you have not heard much from me lately. The other reason is that I do not want to get so excited over something in case it does not pan out. I have done that enough in my life, where I daydream about the "what if's" and ultimately end up disappointed.

So, for the time being, you are just going to have to settle for reading pointless and random bullshit, tirades against the Man, blatherings about nothing in particular, and probably some dick and fart jokes. Because let's be honest, no one with a penis can go forever without throwing in a dick or fart joke. They are always funny. I mean, just think about balls for a second. They are rather hilarious. Except when one is kicked in them. That is NEVER funny, well, unless it happens to someone else, then it is a gut buster.

But anyway, I am taking a road trip. I have always wanted to drive across the country, stopping along the way to see bits and pieces of America that I would normally never see. But you know what? It's kinda fucking chilly at the moment.

So instead of driving cross country, I am planning on driving south. To Key West.

I fully intend to write while on my travels, and it doesn't hurt that my new phone allows me to do so easily. And while some may think of driving for at least 20 hours one way is painful, I find it rather relaxing. I am thinking I will stop along the way, so if anyone has any ideas....

One thing though that keeps popping into my head is the fact that I got married in South Florida. So, I may give you a little surprise. Maybe.

I just know that if I do not get the fuck out of this area soon, I am going to burn myself out.

Saturday, February 12, 2011


Dear Diary:

At the ripe old age of 32, I have finally ventured into the world of smartphones. Yeah yeah, I know I am behind the curve. But, I am also the guy that didn't actually buy his first car until he was 30. Or have sex until his early-mid 20s.

I'm a late bloomer, what can I say?

So, I figured I would dive in head first and upgrade to the most bad ass phone I could get, that I liked. I am not the type to buy the latest trend just because it is the latest trend. I have to like the product.

Now, in purchasing my new device (you really cannot call these things phones anymore, what's the point?) there were some things I insisted upon having: a keyboard, not big and bulky, and cool graphics. I do not like these touch screen keyboards, at all. That is one reason I resisted in getting the iPhone. I just do not like the feel of it.

But, the HTC Evo Shift? Entirely different story. This fucking phone is unbelievable. Not only does it have a keyboard, but it has a touch screen, and not a small one. It has more fucking features than I know what to do with, and well hell, the damn thing just turns me on quite frankly. I love gadgets. Especially when they look cool. And especially when they do exactly what I want, and then some.

And for some strange reason, I sort of feel somewhat normal now. Like I finally use the device for what it is designed for. Like I finally woke up and joined the rest of the world. I mean, while I like gadgets, I do not like just spending money on them just so I can be the first one to have them. So it seems like this smartphone came along at just the right time.

And no, I am not being paid to write anything positive. However, if HTC or Sprint would like to send me a check, I will not object to it. Like the rest of the world, I am not opposed to free shit.

Thursday, February 10, 2011

Fucking Twits

Dear Diary:

"Twitter: Where homely women live out their sex kitten fantasies"
-Frank G, Esq., 2011"

The above quote was not coined by me. It was however coined by a very wise individual. Said wise individual also has a Twitter account, because he enjoys his social media, as well as generally pointing out the absolute idiotic behavior of those who live in this area. So it's not like he was just randomly saying something to be provocative. He has his reasons.

So, the above referenced quote got me to thinking. What is it with social media and dating? And why do people actually think posting shit about dating on social media sites is a good idea? And why in the name of all that is good and holy do those people not realize that they make themselves look like asshats? And why is it that the majority of the bitching and moaning, and occasional gloating is done by women? Women I might add that by and large (with a few exceptions granted) feel the need to put up a suggestive picture that shows some sort of skin, and or cleavage? (Don't hate, I did my research)

And what is even more frustrating is that these same women that consistently use social media to talk about their daily life and provide status updates like "painting my nails while taking a gigantic crap" then actually want us to use, a..........wait for it..................


Ok, let me give a bit of background here. When I was a freshman in college, web based email like Gmail did not exist. Hotmail wasn't even born yet (I think). Cell phones were still not really affordable. When I graduated they were just becoming affordable, barely. What one would call a smart phone did not even exist. Blackberry was a fucking piece of fruit, or a jam.

But all of a sudden, these women want us to party like its 1999 and make a fucking phone call? Sorry, you must not have gotten the memo. It's 2011. My phone only goes off when someone is texting me. Have an actual conversation on the phone? Maybe with my mother. Or maybe with my best friend who I speak to three times a year, the last time involving us talking for a couple of hours and me standing in my kitchen getting fucking hammered in the process (true story).

But no. Some go to great lengths to point out than someone else didn't call.

And how ironic is that? Posting on a social media site that someone didn't use their phone for the original purpose their phone was invented? And posting it using a....wait for

If someone can text, Facebook, E-mail, Tweet, IM, Pin-to-Pin, etc., then why on earth would they use their phone to make a phone call?

Furthermore, most of the stuff said in less than 150 characters is about as important as my daily shit. Actually, that is pretty important. Rather, it is about as important as bird shit on my windshield.

I mean, the REALLY important stuff that comes in under 150 characters should be said directly to a person, not on a phone, and sure as fuck not on Twitter or Facebook. You know, the important stuff like: "I love you" or "Will you marry me" or "I'm sorry" or "I won't get it in your hair this time."

But then again, I don't have a data plan yet cause I am waiting to get a new phone.

Monday, February 7, 2011


Dear Diary:

I consider myself fortunate for I have met, and have been invited into the mind, and dare I say heart, of a true artist.

I was able to be in the presence of greatness. Of pure beauty. Of pure passion. Of conviction. Of desire. Of intellect. Of dreams.

She first met me in what now seems like another life, for I was truly a different person. She has seen me grow from afar, peeking in every now and again to check up on me, offering words of wisdom where she saw fit. I'd like to think she saw me for who I could become, and who I grew into, before I realized my own potential.

In her art I found hope and beauty. I found truth and courage. Intelligence and love. I witnessed grace.

To call her a blogger seems almost demeaning at this point as to me it would cheapen the words with which she so eloquently painted a portrait of life.

She is not gone from here in the truest sense of the word for her shadow, and her memory will forever linger.

And maybe one day she will read these words and recognize that they are indeed for her, and know that she did in fact reach, and touch, one soul that was not her own.

And for that I will forever be in her debt.


Dear Diary:

Remember when I used to write and had something to say? Um, yeah, not so much lately.

Now don't get me wrong, there is a lot on my mind, but let's just say that what is on my mind is best kept to myself until I can wrap it up into neat little packages, put a fucking big red bow around it, and deliver it to you.

Because if I just emptied my brain at the moment, the shit would definitely hit the fan.

"If you ever enter my mind
Stay there, you'll live..."