Willy Pete had an impressive resume.  He dropped out of high school at sixteen to pursue a life of failure.  By his mid twenties, Probation was just a mail-in form.  Breaking and Entering.  Pandering.  Assault with a Deadly Weapon.  Accomplished meth cook.

He beat that last rap, but not before being dragged off at the muzzle of a German sub-machine gun.

When I met Willy Pete, he was on the straight and narrow.  Mostly.  With a stint in rehab behind him, he was going light on the booze and holding himself together. Read more

I have a new, Official Theme Song.  Without further ado, I present you with:

Screamin’ Jay Hawkins: I Am The Cool

It was raining.  I lifted the shade to watch it streak down the glass.  Across the street I could see office workers plugging into their intravenous caffeine drips.  I headed down to the gym to sweat the liquor out of my system.

I skipped breakfast and wandered off in the rain.

My eyes went in and out of focus.  I felt weary.  I pulled my hat low to hide my bloodshot squint and caught the Local.

Read more

. . . And begging is contemptible.  I stand by that.

Asking is not simply interrogative.  Asking is a transfer of power.  There is always the possibility that the other party might not grant their approval.  If that happens, you lose face.

Humans are inherently social creatures.  Putting yourself out for the approval of others is par for the course.  While it would be unreasonable to expect people to eliminate this behavior entirely, careful management can go a long way.

If asking really is begging, what is a man to do?  How does he approach a woman?  How does he ask her out?  How does he get her consent?

The short answer is:  he doesn’t.

Read more

Being in love is like living with your balls in a vice.  It exerts just enough pressure to keep you from moving.  You try to leave, but the pressure grows.  You want to think it’ll be like ripping off a bandage, but when you try to pry yourself away some Warning Light goes off in your brain:

Testicle Rupture Imminent!

Being obsessed is better.  And worse. Read more

I arrived at my hotel early.  Check-In wasn’t for another three and a half hours, but the woman at the counter just smiled and processed me.  The staff were all extremely gracious.

I dropped my gear and headed out onto 42nd St. Read more

I climbed out of the truck and took a few steps before I felt it.  Lead.  My legs dragging along beneath me.  Some of it was my AM workout.  Some of it was the weight I carry the rest of the day.

I swallowed a bad cup of black coffee and tossed the styrofoam in the back.  Chased it with ephedrine.  As soon as the mixture kicked in I could feel my chest constrict.

Not anxiety, just pressure.  All of it self induced.  The worse it gets, the harder I push.  The more it grows, the more I need to clamp down.  The harder I try to control it, the worse it gets.

Then my workouts suffer.  I spend my days gut sick over nothing.  I put my hands on the weights, feel that cold reassurance, but lately I struggle to summon the will to push them.  To push out of my comfort zone.  To push my limits.

I splashed water on my face.  Let it drip down my neck.  I could not wash the bags out from under my eyes, or the dirt from under my nails. I adjusted my shoulder audibly in its socket – the one with the chip on it – and went back to work.

I am piecing together the appendages of a leaner, meaner Max.  The weather broke yesterday.  I laced up an old pair of combat boots and humped a ruck sack full of concrete around town.  Without a frame, or waist and sternum straps, the exercise rapidly became a test of my determination.

And my hangover.

No excuses.  I pressed on.  However, the need for better gear was apparent.  There is a difference between training hard and training stupid, and I’ll get nowhere if I fuck myself up being stubborn.

My new MOLLE pack is ordered; a standard MIL-spec rig.  With the adoption of ACU, older DCU gear is dropping in price.  I can outfit myself on the cheap.

I’ve looked over other training materials.  One recommended solo hikes, overnights in the woods.  Get used to moving around by yourself, get used to the noise at night.

I’ll have to order a MOLLE rig for my .45.

From the moment I stepped off the plane, I had just enough time to be late for my next flight.  I rushed to the next gate and swiped my boarding pass.  I stepped into the tunnel and the cold air hit me.

Oh fuck . . .

The bird was tiny, hardly more than an toy.  I climbed inside.  The lone flight attendant frowned at me.  ”Are you the one we’re waiting on?” Read more

Wally Balls is an old friend of mine.  Big and I have know Wally since high-school.  After a few years of community college, Wally moved to Rochester to attend RIT.  Since then, I can count the number of times I’ve seen Wally on two hands.

A week ago I found out Wally was back in town.  We got together for lunch and made plans to go out Saturday night.  Unfortunately, a plan is just a list of things that never happen.  I left several messages with Wally on Saturday morning.  By afternoon he called me from the road to tell me he had left town early.

I was not happy.

Read more