Jim, thankfully, will be taking the summer off to do things that, we suspect, will include nudity and frozen alcoholic beverages.
With that said, we’re feverishly editing the first book that he wrote approximately 4 years ago.
In the meantime, vignettes of the aforementioned book shall be released to Pontchartrainpress.blogspot.com and at the sheer antagonism of a publisher who has had this wtriting in “queue” for a while. Consider it a sneak peek for those who regularly click in and read his absurd ramblings.
Particularly noteworthy, those who have read and who have worked on this book recently discovered, that the story is based on a suicide letter which was left behind by a close friend to Mr. Patrick about 5 years ago. This, in NO way, is a plot spoiler.
Only Jim, along with Irish whiskey, could find a humorous side to such a plot line.
At its root, the story spotlights three base characters and holds a redemptive factor in its ultimate outcome. While there’s a dark comedy spine throughout, this is a tale of redemption; a simple story of life and love. **
**With a drive-by shooting and sex
Keep in mind that the passages which will be released are loosely edited; especially the passages which were clearly written near the end of bar tabs.
We sincerely hope that you enjoy this story as we feverishly edit the hell out of it.
We equally wish that, with his summer vacation, we don’t have to bail Jim out of a Los Angeles County jail as he is visiting friends.
Mike, the editor
The other, less important, Eric
Amanda (always on the bottom…by choice)
Saturday, April 21, 2012
~ I’ve found that you find strength in moments of weakness
My birthday is next week, and you know what that means...I still do not fully know the rules and regulations of English League soccer...
Admittedly, I'm a big fan of any situation that's packed full of passion, roller coaster exhilaration, personal injury, yelling, running back and forth (aimlessly at times) scrambling and blocking with potentiality for an end score of 0-0.
I suppose English League soccer also fits this description.
I don't know about you, but turning a year older is an optimistic event for me personally.
It serves as a stark reminder that I’m barreling at (what seems to be) the speed of light toward dysfunction in the pee pee department. In turn, this will cause my future wife or girlfriend to run away with a car dealership owner who films his own cheesy commercials; incorporating one of his awkward, ugly kids because he thinks that it's cute.
I relish a day when various gastrointestinal ailments, coupled with a neurological disease, renders me unable to properly wipe my ass without the assistance of an apathetic teenage son who’s impregnated two girls and dropped out of school after the 10th grade in order to form a band named:
“Doo Doo Jones & the Transcendental F*ck Sticks.”
What’s not to love about celebrating a day with friends over cake, a fist fight, a few beers, a hooker and thoughts of a future that will likely involve no fewer than four forms of fatal cancer.
Mine is a future which holds the likelihood that all of my internal organs will slowly and painfully ooze from a gaping wound as a direct result of a staph infection; primarily because I’m being housed in an understaffed, sub-standard nursing facility where sexually deviant male nurses routinely beat and/or sexually abuse me. A facility in which my ingrate son imprisoned me right after his band signed a multimillion dollar recording deal.
Birthdays are indeed a happy occasion for me.
I NEVER know how to answer the inevitable question that arises around birthday time…
“So, what do you want for your birthday?”
I usually just tell these people that I’d like a bag of Gummie Worms or a bottle of Irish whiskey…and a Lincoln Navigator.
Yesterday my landlord and friend, Jeff, asked what I want for my birthday. I informed him that I need $1,275.00**
**Note: The precise amount for the rent payment due on Tuesday.
I enjoy celebrating other people's birthdays more than my own.
For instance, last Friday I attended a party being thrown for a lady friend who shares the same birthday week as that of her neighbor, so their mutual friends decided to throw a combined party.
Sharing a birthday celebration with people I don’t even know seems rather awkward to me. It’s like attending a swinger’s club…only with better lighting and less regret.
Incidentally, the birthday girl turned 30 and the bouncing birthday boy…79.
As I surveyed the room, it appeared as though I’d stumbled upon visitation day at a nursing home…with funny hats, cake and adult incontinence.
Each April I’ve utilized this space as a vehicle to share, reminisce, come to grips with and make fun of myself. It's a snapshot of the past 364 days and is unoriginally titled:
“Things I’ve Learned”
Also known as:
“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger…and borderline homicidal.”
Here we go…
1. Crazy people seem to possess amazing talents in that they are incredibly creative…most importantly, they are usually also extremely good in bed.
Of course, you must also accept the bad with the good in that you might eventually find yourself waking to find this person standing over the bed, threatening to beat you to death with a tea kettle unless you can explain why American Idol won't force a re-match between Jordan Sparks and Blake Lewis.
2. No one can tell me what the name “Todd” is short for…not even my friend TODD!
3. I learned how to say a dirty word in French.
4. I’ve officially encountered a self-proclaimed, spontaneous person who takes a different approach to loose schedules:
Sarah: We haven’t done anything spontaneous in a while.
Jim: I love spontaneous…how bout we jump a streetcar downtown in a while and stumble into whatever looks like fun.
Sarah: Sounds good. Oh, while we’re there I need to go to that boutique on Royal. Actually I also need to see my friend at Cosimo’s. Then we can be spontaneous.
Jim: Sure thing.
Sarah: Can we also have late lunch at Mona Lisa? Then maybe we could walk over to CC’s and grab a coffee before going to the French Market…I need sun glasses.
Jim: OK…then can we just play it by ear and see what looks like fun? No schedule, to do list or time frame?
Sarah: Ya, but not for too long; by the time we’re done with the other stuff I need to be heading back so I can watch The Voice.
Jim: Uh, ok.
Sarah: Where are you now?
Jim: I’m on the streetcar heading downtown with Todd.
Sarah: ???? Where you going??
Jim: Don’t know. I’ll call you in a little while.
Sarah: What time?
Jim: At precisely 3:47pm
5. As evidenced by my friend Dave, it IS possible to be friends with an EX…until they find out that you’re dating someone else. (This lesson caused a considerable amount of personal property damage for Dave)
6. Trust me when I tell you that there is NOTHING funnier than witnessing 5 trannys pile into a Ford Festiva.
7. Walking away from an argument is indeed a good and healthy policy…so long as you destroy both cell phones, eliminating text message abilities for either party.
8. I’m still not a role model for children.
9. There is nothing more alarming than discovering that the really hot girl who walks down the sidewalk past your front porch each day is one of the aforementioned trannys.
10. The police department, apparently, frowns upon helpful reminders as to citizen rights where traffic infractions are concerned. It's also unwise to request a partial refund of taxpayer contribution to his salary due to the fact that you feel as though you're being treated discourteously.**
**Note: A-1 Bail/Bond is doing God’s work in New Orleans
11. Under certain circumstances, giving up might just be an accomplishment.
12. It takes 5 drunken guys to change a flat tire.
13. The Surgeon General seems to be correct in the assessment that there is NO safe cigarette.
My friend, Pete, was mugged outside of a convenience store after purchasing a pack of Ultra Lights.
14. “There’s NOTHING good going on at 4am!” This was a regular assertion offered by my mother and father when I was 17-years old. With the assistance of my lady friend, Ashleigh, we blew that theory right out of the water a few months ago. **
**Note: Between the hours of 3am and 5:13am…and again at 8am.
15. Playing “Call of Duty” on X-Box with a 12-year old will make you feel like Forrest Gump. I'll bet that if the kid had 4 shots of Jameson ( as did I) he wouldn't be such a hot shot then! Since WHEN does it take 8-thousand buttons to play a video game?
16. Spending a Sunday afternoon in the park with three kids who act like crack-addicted squirrels is far more entertaining and a breath of fresh air when compared to spending the previous evening with a drunken adult who knows better.
17. A counterfeit excuse letter from the Pope will NOT get you out of criminal court jury duty…and might result in a contempt of court charge.
18. NEVER trust ANYONE who begins a sentence with “I’m not gonna lie.”
19. Craig's List is truly a one stop shopping mecca. In addition to finding a job, one may also find a slightly used weed eater, books, a cat, an automobile and, as evidenced in the following post, unique experiences:
"I'm alone on the couch at 253 South Scott Street. There's a ski mask by the door on the front porch. Put it on, come in and sh*t on me then leave...no questions asked."
What sort of questions would one ask after going to the bathroom on top of another person? Although I have MANY questions for the person who posted this ad, I would have MORE questions for the person who carried out the request. However, I'm not about to visit Scott Street to ask either of them.
And, finally, one to grow (up) on...
20. “Time heals all wounds.” This is a comforting scad of advice that's usually offered by a friend who’s entered a brand-new exciting relationship.
The same friend who, not more than 6-months ago, was curled in the fetal position of the living room, sobbing uncontrollably**
**Note: Not necessarily their OWN living room. In some cases, a demo living room at Rooms To Go
Even though they seem happy now, these same friends are typically one missed Prozac dose away from hunting down and torturing their 2nd grade teacher for failing to properly teach the correct method for writing the upper case letter “Q” in cursive.
The violence spree concludes by beating a family of 3 to death with a George Foreman Grill before taking his/her own life by dousing in fingernail polish remover and jumping into a roaring fireplace.
Well…there it is. Another year has come and gone and I plan to celebrate with a candle-free cake so as not to escalate the effects of Global Warming™ thus angering Al Gore™.
I’m thankful, achy, angry, capricious, somewhat sexually aroused, craving a Crunchy Taco Supreme and, of course, none the wiser. But, it’s been an interesting year.
With that, I shall sum it all up with my newly learned fancy French word…MERDE!
|HOW did I not get on the invite list to THIS party???|
Author's Note: This piece is dedicated to a gentleman by the name of Dick Weisihinkle. I don't know him, but I found his name in the phone book and thought it to be a pretty cool name. Oh, and it's also dedicated to a group of people, with names that are not as high on the "cool factor" scale, who have been working tirelessly editing and promoting a recently completed writing project. I appreciate and love each of these dedicated people...and I sometimes imagine a few of them without clothes.
Posted by Pontchartrain Press at 12:24 PM