brickwallviews

while i was away battling Ike

david foster wallace took his own life.

goddamn.

he once said of his 20+ year battle with depression: "lonely on a level that cannot be conveyed... everything is part of the problem, and there is no solution. it is a hell for me."

his father said, "he just couldn't stand it anymore."

to die yourself without reading his epic infinite jest would be a grave error.

godspeed mr wallace.

brickwallboyweeps.

david foster wallace (1962-2008)

we lost peter

some excerpts of mr hobb's and i's running hurricane drama:

(in colonial english military officer voice, of course)

"ahem, it is with heavy heart that i greet you this 39th morning post storm. i'm afraid to say, well...
we lost peter! up and died he did. good chap peter. wielded a chainsaw for club and country.

"chin up mates. we must carry on. peter would have wanted that way of course. sammy will get peter's saw, and his water ration of course. buck up. good lad peter he was. chin up."

"a moment of silence. we lost peter ya know. shame really. a 6 chainsaw salute seems in order."

"back to work then. limbs, leaves, twigs and the like all await our attention. dear peter would insist we carry on."

IKE

i survived Ike and all i got was a lousy case of jock-itch.

some things i did not experience:

death
total home destruction
looting
flood
starvation
dehydration

a few things i did experience:

mre's
8 days sans electricity
generator noise
sweat
limbs,logs,twigs,leaves
neighborhood bar-b-q's
children playing outside
no footie on the tele
sweat
glorified campfire coffee
more limbs,logs,twigs and leaves
family reading night via flashlight
sweat
no goddamn internet or email
did i mention the loss of power

or will to live.

came out alright overall. h-town still in much chaos in areas. still 500,000+ without electricity.

now is the time to convert galveston to the worlds finest correctional facility.

the maximum security federal prison at galveston island. i like it.
(aka the hotel galvez)

bwb out.

portrait of brickwallboy with tree on house (2008)

armwrestling jung over freud's beer money

dreamed i had wild sex with the university of texas cheerleaders... the male ones.
dreamed obama won the election and was then assassinated, by a black man.
dreamed i was a plural wife desperately searching the rocky mountains in order to locate and kill john krakauer.
dreamed i had fewer disappointments in life, awoke disappointed.
dreamed my daughter played for the us women's soccer team so i signed her up for 5 yr old's 5-a-side.
dreamed i could play guitar really well so i wrote a folk song about my culinary prowess.
dreamed money indeed does grow on trees. planted several.
dreamed i was sober and woke up pleased and sans hangover.
dreamed i was a decent husband and father, rolled over and went back to sleep.

dreamed i had a dream.

(pause)

the god-awful world cup qualifiers will mercifully end by tomorrow and we can get back to the right and proper business of club football. the arse take on blackburn rovers on saturday.

visit this site, it's groovy. he coaches that 5 yr old's 5-a-side you may have heard about.

be well and shit.

brickwallboyout.

wassily kandinsky, small pleasures (1913)

absentee ballad

transfer deadline came and went without the arse adding any fresh bodies... we shall have to carry-on with the youngsters. hopefully rosicky and eduardo getting healthy in the coming weeks will serve as transfers of a sort.

objects in the mirror may appear more hopeful than they actually are...

boy.
out.

cy twombly, leda and the swan (1962)