Fuck!
It seems that I have an undying backlog.
Did you see what I did there?
Really, though I am wondering how to put a dent in this TV show backlog.
Could it just be I love a lot of shows.
I am guessing so.
I am currently watching: Game of Thrones season 2, GTO, Desperate Housewives season 6, The Walking Dead (ongoing)
It seems like when I watch all these shows a new one will pop up. What the hell?
Seriously, my intrigue is piqued with some of these new shows.
Interest piqued: House of Cards, Orange is the New Black, True Detective, Homeland( I am iffy about. It doesn't seem like my type of show). Plus, I need to finish the rest of Arrested Development the new season.
So I watch all of these shows whilst writing blogs and writing a book. Something has to be put on hiatus but I love to watch shows. I always have.
So I am going to try to make a dent in the never-ending backlog.
But isn't that the reason the backlog exists.
We basically gave it a name and tried to organize it. By that I mean you the reader and me the consumer.
:)
What would you do with your any back log?
Monday, February 17, 2014
Sunday, February 2, 2014
- The Nightmare at East Rutherford
-
The SuperBowl was set the dust had settled.
I was in full Broncos gear. An old Rod Smith replica jersey and a 1998 Denver Bronco Super Bowl hat.
Hut-hut-hike Manning saw the football go over his head in to the end zone. Safety. 2 -0 Seattle Seahawks. This is not what we Denver fans had expected. 2 became 5.
What in the fuck Denver? This wasn't the same team that showed its teeth against the New England Patriots.
"FUCK!" That's what I wanted to blurt out but there was kids around. I was saying son-of-a bitch and goddammit under my breath. My hat was off most of the game because my head was ashamed of what was happening. It was a goddamn nightmare.
Denver was down 22-0 at the half.
Could Manning engineer drives and win the Super Bowl?
No.
The short answer is fucking no.
The offense was punished all night. Manning threw two interceptions.
It was hard to watch . Beyond it. Denver just fell apart. Seattle's hard hitting Richard Sherman and company obliterated the hope of the Denver faithful.
And for fuck's sake what were the fans watching?
This wasn't football. It was sheer dominance. It was a big wrestler fighting a puny one.
Denver could not sustain momentum through out the game. Decker wasn't targeted most of the night. Knowshown Moreno was hurt. Sherman was now hurt. It wasn't a battlefield. There was no give, only take from the Seahawks.
What in the fuck Denver?
A prolific season doesn't mean shit if you don't win the SuperBowl. Statistics don't mean a can of fucking beans if you don't hoist the Lombardi.
It was now the late 4th quarter and Denver was on life support. The end would be near and Denver would be obliterated 43-8.
Questions always surface.
Why did the D fall apart?
Why didn't the fucking special teams tackle?
Why shitty play calling?
Denver lost as a team.
I say this with a heavy heart. It was a shit show.
No positives came out of this game but a deep sting Denver won't forget, a painful sting that will leave them thinking what if?
What if we had drives? What if we didn't fumble?
The one's that don't say what if hoist the Lombardi trophy.
Denver as it stands now has a lot of question to answer. Plus, it now proves once again the #1 defense can stop the #1 Offense as it always has.
Denver's Champ Bailey will probably retire. The Broncos probably will make the playoffs but not the SuperBowl.
The team will look different next year.
And yet through all this anger and high frustration.
I will still wear orange and blue. Real fans don't quit on their team. Elway has two SuperBowl rings. He has a lot of Super Bowl losses. Denver is a team of perseverance. They won't stop and will remember that sting, which won't go away until they hoist the shiny Lombardi trophy on their shoulders.
Sunday, January 26, 2014
I always wanted a Yeti
I always wanted a Yeti. I have no idea why but the white coat of the ferocious beast would be great.
Of course, this isn't a real Yeti.
No, really it isn't a real Yeti.
It is a Yeti on Zoo World 2. Am I in no way endorsing Zoo World 2. I am just saying I want a Yeti.
Although, this Yeti I want isn't ferocious but cute.
Yep, he's blue and he's from the game Zoo World 2. In order to get him.
You must do this watch and earn business. So, I turn down the volume to none and watch the ads.
I will get this Yeti soon damnit.
What do you want? Not desire but what do you want.
What I want is a furry blue yeti from Zoo World 2. I just think he'd be outta place. And that's a okay with me.
He's a friggin Yeti for Christ's sake.
-V
Of course, this isn't a real Yeti.
No, really it isn't a real Yeti.
It is a Yeti on Zoo World 2. Am I in no way endorsing Zoo World 2. I am just saying I want a Yeti.
Although, this Yeti I want isn't ferocious but cute.
Yep, he's blue and he's from the game Zoo World 2. In order to get him.
You must do this watch and earn business. So, I turn down the volume to none and watch the ads.
I will get this Yeti soon damnit.
What do you want? Not desire but what do you want.
What I want is a furry blue yeti from Zoo World 2. I just think he'd be outta place. And that's a okay with me.
He's a friggin Yeti for Christ's sake.
-V
Monday, January 20, 2014
It happened from a Facebook person
Her name was E-daz.
She posted a pretty racy photo on her page.
E-dazva decided to post the photo in looking for rudimentary compliments. She is an attractive girl.
This is where the problem comes from.
The post stated tell my boyfriend that he doesn't know what he's talking about.
So I wanted to PM her. Well instead of her it was her boyfriend.
I told her that her boyfriend was crazy for thinking she was fat.
Oh Facebook fucking drama.
Dumb shit!
----lo and behold her boyfriend is the one looking at the crazy message. He says I am her boyfriend.
Now this is where it could get bad. And it almost did but I told him about my girlfriend a long time ago.
I said she had a very similar situation. He seemed complacent to listen to my story.
Therefore, I told him I got really confused about the situation. Anyway he offered to be my friend on Facebook.
To him he honestly didn't care what I said about E-dazva. It just so happened he was marketing out her page when she wasn't there. Or he was marketing his band.
Either way he seemed more sane than E-daz.
He said to add him as a friend and I did.
Then the next day I wake up and go on Facebook. It is a routine. I have a message and she basically tells me I am a bastard for calling her boyfriend crazy. I was being honest with she has a good body and is attractive.
So her move was to block me.
It doesn't bother me at all she blocked me but it is an overreaction on her part. She can do whatever. Why not just delete me as a friend if you want to take it that far? No worries though people act irrationally all the time.
Shit happens!
I am moving on.
Facebook is not only a dangerous place but there is copious amounts of drama on there. That being said I will still use it. There are just people out there that get set off by little things.
_V
She posted a pretty racy photo on her page.
E-dazva decided to post the photo in looking for rudimentary compliments. She is an attractive girl.
This is where the problem comes from.
The post stated tell my boyfriend that he doesn't know what he's talking about.
So I wanted to PM her. Well instead of her it was her boyfriend.
I told her that her boyfriend was crazy for thinking she was fat.
Oh Facebook fucking drama.
Dumb shit!
----lo and behold her boyfriend is the one looking at the crazy message. He says I am her boyfriend.
Now this is where it could get bad. And it almost did but I told him about my girlfriend a long time ago.
I said she had a very similar situation. He seemed complacent to listen to my story.
Therefore, I told him I got really confused about the situation. Anyway he offered to be my friend on Facebook.
To him he honestly didn't care what I said about E-dazva. It just so happened he was marketing out her page when she wasn't there. Or he was marketing his band.
Either way he seemed more sane than E-daz.
He said to add him as a friend and I did.
Then the next day I wake up and go on Facebook. It is a routine. I have a message and she basically tells me I am a bastard for calling her boyfriend crazy. I was being honest with she has a good body and is attractive.
So her move was to block me.
It doesn't bother me at all she blocked me but it is an overreaction on her part. She can do whatever. Why not just delete me as a friend if you want to take it that far? No worries though people act irrationally all the time.
Shit happens!
I am moving on.
Facebook is not only a dangerous place but there is copious amounts of drama on there. That being said I will still use it. There are just people out there that get set off by little things.
_V
Monday, January 6, 2014
A new year and the beginning of 2014
So far it has been a great start to 2014. I am broke but I did buy those all-season tires I was supposed to buy.
I am broke but I am still lifting weights. :)
I am broke but my spirit is higher than ever.
When I last talked about inspiration I went into the morning. Except, the morning to me is not as inspirational as I'd like.
Let's face it . I fucking hate the mornings. If you the reader don't it is your own problem.
Mornings to me always blind me before I 'm ready to wake up . They make me say aw fuck it! The reason being I am a night owl. How many times must I say it before the gods' croak. How must I say it before the crickets chirp. Or before the frogs do their frog dance.
I fucking hate mornings. There I said it again and again.
Except, the last post I talked about the inspiration. Even babies need inspiration to inspire to become something greater,nay maybe a Polar Bear or a Red Panda. Those are cool!
Either way inspiration helps every artist, painter, writer and otherwise surveyor of art with ideas.
Ideas aren't just for the meek or the timid but for the brave and the strong. Fucking risk takers! BABY!
Yes, risk takers by and fucking large make our society great. Although, I have many qualms with society, risk taking is integral to every and all being. It doesn't matter what it is.
Yes, you there. Are you risk taking. No you don't have to pull the chute of the parachute. You don't have dive off that cliff with a purplish-orange bungee cord. Was that the right spelling of bungee? Shit, I don't remember. Inspiration should invigorate you. Invigoration is a neat word. Isn't it? I mean it does start with an I. Words that start with an I are pretty damn cool. Like that insult...idiot. That starts with an I. Anyway inspiration leads credence to why we do what we do.
A painter stares at a potato. He or she is inspired therefore, to kick-ass and sculpt the potato or just kinda finagle a potato sculpture. Sculpting and tiring away at this potato he/she gets an idea. Maybe the potato represents disdain for the Russian government. Automatically, the thought with time and careful observation is the potato is now symbolistic for the plight that the Russians faced in the U.S.S.R. BadabooM! Baby! The sculpture has just had inspiration to sculpt that potatoe. Fuck yeah! The potatoe is now amazing symbolism hell yeah.
Oh Miley Ray, you and your catchy and professional written and inspiring songs. Inspirational songs that are not meaningless help write the words. A writer is somehow or another in a dimly lit and dingy dark room. He has written all he can handle. An unsteady hand that he owns starts shaking from all the writing. The inspiration for him came from an old Mozart tune. Not really a tune but a classico piece. Symphony number 47 in G? Does it exist? The fuck if I know. That clarity in the song makes the writer write faster and faster. He comes up with an alliterative allegorical alligator of ambiance. He's truly inspired by that didy, not a diddy but a goddamn classical piece, by a prodigy!
No more inspiration for now. Realistically, you the reader need to go out there and get inspired. It can be as simple as a beautiful Arabic ballad or something as complex as a Beethoven classic piece. You decide. That's it you inspire other and others inspire you. Paint something, draw something, write something. Just don't congeal into some sort of gray putty-ooze. Go chase your dreams. Look at other art. For fuck's sake don't be a dumb-ass and not read. Stimulate your synaptic connections and read! Inspire a future, a generation a crop of corn. Inspire!
I am broke but I am still lifting weights. :)
I am broke but my spirit is higher than ever.
When I last talked about inspiration I went into the morning. Except, the morning to me is not as inspirational as I'd like.
Let's face it . I fucking hate the mornings. If you the reader don't it is your own problem.
Mornings to me always blind me before I 'm ready to wake up . They make me say aw fuck it! The reason being I am a night owl. How many times must I say it before the gods' croak. How must I say it before the crickets chirp. Or before the frogs do their frog dance.
I fucking hate mornings. There I said it again and again.
Except, the last post I talked about the inspiration. Even babies need inspiration to inspire to become something greater,nay maybe a Polar Bear or a Red Panda. Those are cool!
Either way inspiration helps every artist, painter, writer and otherwise surveyor of art with ideas.
Ideas aren't just for the meek or the timid but for the brave and the strong. Fucking risk takers! BABY!
Yes, risk takers by and fucking large make our society great. Although, I have many qualms with society, risk taking is integral to every and all being. It doesn't matter what it is.
Yes, you there. Are you risk taking. No you don't have to pull the chute of the parachute. You don't have dive off that cliff with a purplish-orange bungee cord. Was that the right spelling of bungee? Shit, I don't remember. Inspiration should invigorate you. Invigoration is a neat word. Isn't it? I mean it does start with an I. Words that start with an I are pretty damn cool. Like that insult...idiot. That starts with an I. Anyway inspiration leads credence to why we do what we do.
A painter stares at a potato. He or she is inspired therefore, to kick-ass and sculpt the potato or just kinda finagle a potato sculpture. Sculpting and tiring away at this potato he/she gets an idea. Maybe the potato represents disdain for the Russian government. Automatically, the thought with time and careful observation is the potato is now symbolistic for the plight that the Russians faced in the U.S.S.R. BadabooM! Baby! The sculpture has just had inspiration to sculpt that potatoe. Fuck yeah! The potatoe is now amazing symbolism hell yeah.
Oh Miley Ray, you and your catchy and professional written and inspiring songs. Inspirational songs that are not meaningless help write the words. A writer is somehow or another in a dimly lit and dingy dark room. He has written all he can handle. An unsteady hand that he owns starts shaking from all the writing. The inspiration for him came from an old Mozart tune. Not really a tune but a classico piece. Symphony number 47 in G? Does it exist? The fuck if I know. That clarity in the song makes the writer write faster and faster. He comes up with an alliterative allegorical alligator of ambiance. He's truly inspired by that didy, not a diddy but a goddamn classical piece, by a prodigy!
No more inspiration for now. Realistically, you the reader need to go out there and get inspired. It can be as simple as a beautiful Arabic ballad or something as complex as a Beethoven classic piece. You decide. That's it you inspire other and others inspire you. Paint something, draw something, write something. Just don't congeal into some sort of gray putty-ooze. Go chase your dreams. Look at other art. For fuck's sake don't be a dumb-ass and not read. Stimulate your synaptic connections and read! Inspire a future, a generation a crop of corn. Inspire!
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
- They say the morning is when inspiration comes
-
andres256
- December 11th, 11:50
Maybe you slam back a cup of black hot coffee. Maybe you shower the morning away only to realize you're drowned in inspiration.
That coffee smacking you up and down. The coffee surging through your core. Not your abs but through your being.
An egg smells in the morning. The grease sizzles pops and otherwise heats the black pan. Music blares super loud through your Seinhauser headphones.Lyrics blow through your ears at a very high decibel.
This is inspiration. This is the smell of the morning.
Fuck!
You remember you're not a morning person.
Let's start. Your brain tells you.
Last night or the night before I had a dream. This seems like a re-occuring dream. It takes place outside someone's house. Way, way, way, high up on a hill. The immersion is very palpable. My best friend Jon Montoya is in the dream. There is a white and very made out white house. So new that it looks like it has been there just today. There is a crazy fucking guy that is Russian. He screams something and throws out a sandwich ball. Except, it is privy to whatever Russians eat. He hurls it out of the window and the bread and lettuce and whatever meat blast the pavement. Like an egg that has been thrown on the ground. Next is a car pulls up but no one gets up. It is my car and I can clearly see over the hill. Next, oh next, is me running through someone's house but making it to the living room. Then running away out to the front door. Except, that goddamn door is fucking locked. I hear footsteps and can't really move. Someone is home. I don't hear screams or shouts but a person's voice. Then I am transported outside near my friend and I yell "We need to get down there."
The dream ends.
What in the fuck? Twice, I have had this dream. There is no conclusion for it. It freaks me out. No violence just a weird russian with a sandwich ball. Just a door I can't open. "We need to go down there."
What does it mean?
Is there something in my life I can't fucking open.Who is the Russian man? Is there some Russian person that holds uber significance? Is he warning me buy throwing his sandwich ball out of his window? Is he trying to tell me to learn some Russian.
I am not sure but it is madness and it is beyond-V
Thursday, November 14, 2013
Don't fall into a writing lul
Don’t fall into a writing lul
I find myself right now trying to worry about my backlog shows I am going to finish.
Yet, that’s not what I should be focusing on. I should concentrate my worth and efforts on my musical. I can’t write the rest of my book unless I get to Florida. And right now I need to plan that damn trip.
This musical is tough to write. I need to power through it and whoop its ass.
The only way to write is to go out and do it. Although, I have heard that setting goals is a good way to write.
I have never set any writing goals really. I just write when it is pertinen
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