Java Joint Pt.2

Wow. Cool. Thanks for reading my blog. I enjoyed the comments. I'll be away from the computer for the weekend so I wanted to put something up before we load up and hit the road. I'm really thinking about the JKV thing. Bloggifing it might just be the thing to make it fresh again. Adding pictures would make it pretty interesting too. I have a lot of old pictures that go with the story.

I have some new ones too. I put a couple with this entry. I put up a bunch more at myspace. myspace.com/bradleyalbertburkley. Check 'em out.

Yes I am currently sporting a Gold Afternoon Fix beard, and yes my hair is as grey as Kilbey's. Yes I'm only 32. Although I took too much acid at one point and it turned my hair color, 4 years ago, early grey runs in my family. It has been getting lighter and lighter in the sun.

As for Java Joint - well, I think it's your American right to run your business however you want. Even if you wanna run it like a communist dictatorship. Even if you want to run it into the ground. I also don't have to hang out and watch it happen either.

First thing - it's not a coffee shop. It's a vanity project. The owner has a lot of loot and I guess she always dreamed of having a coffee shop on the ocean. That's cool, I can dig it. But you can't be all things to all people while only being prepared to serve 12 people at a time, max. They have the best coffee in town, and good food (if the right cook is working), but they are running this small room with few tables like a restaurant. When it gets busy it gets so crowded and loud it sounds like a mess hall. I have been in and around restaurants and hotels my whole life, an F&B manager at the Hilton in Gainesville for a short while. You wanna be set up to run at full capacity. So there are people sitting reading the paper sipping coffee, with a line out the door!

Second thing - you gotta take suggestions. The menu(s) there are a nightmare. I was gonna offer to redo it. I actually did on my own just so I could study it when I got the job. It's all center justified and stuff, so I told a co-worker my idea. "Oh no, don't do that, they won't change the menu, don't bring it up. The inventory and computer (for entering orders) are a mess too. Now, when I wrote about Java Joint in my earlier entry I mentioned the communism thing in relation to the tips. But apparently it goes further than that. You can't be critical of the way things are being run even by the slightest comment. This couple (one is really the owner the other is her partner) has never been in the business before.

Another note - and it speaks to the pros of Capitalism I know but when you pool tips, "redistribute the income" if you will, that encourages your hard worker to become lazy and your lazy worker to stay lazy. I saw it in action. And when the owner is taking their cut from our tips without hardly being around! .....anyway, I quit. I went to pick up my last check yesterday and they said they had mailed it to me.

A couple of peevish things too - while I'm at it. They love to tell all the customers that "everything's organic." It's not. Some things are, some aren't, in fact there's Hersheys syrup in the "organic chocolate dispenser." They are conservative republicans to those customers, and liberal lesbians to those customers, drive big Suburban SUVs, have a recycle bin upstairs, but take it down and put it in the trash with the other rubbish. You get the idea. Lot's of rubbish.

One more thing - I don't intend to suggest I'm Jewish, as it may seem in the last post. I'm an all-american mutt. English/Irish/German/Dutch, with many variations depending on what family member you talk to on what day. My grandmother was unusually dark, with dark eyes and dark hair and it was suggested tongue-in-cheek that her family was Jewish.

b

Curb Your Enthusiasm

Seen this show? I love it. I feel like Larry David sometimes. I feel like HBO. CYE is an excellent name for a semi-spoof street skate video too BTW. Have an older guy between scenes with a bald head and a Jewish tongue, pissing people off. Rumor has it that my mom's mom was Jewish, or partly so. Used to be a bad thing you know, in America, in the south, kept secret at times. Was Penn ever a Jewish name? I could research that one. Assuming that was her real name. Sean and Michael Penn are Jewish right?

But really, to the point, I don't get pissed too much anymore. Really! I've been nasty and foul tongued before yes. I found a lot of pointlessness in the fish bowl of human life when it comes to anger. It uses up too much energy. And I have a tendency to be a little lazy so...well there you go. It's not because I repel it, it's because I understand it. I don't know why I do, maybe I'm getting older, whatever. It's how you work with it, not how you avoid it. Conflict is gonna be there till death. I can see why people get pissed though. They're all wrong, and their all right. Anger is a symptom of a human falling under the control of ego rather than using their wisdom capacity. We could all be wisemen. Once you see that wisdom is really not matter of rank you become wise. It's just sitting there on the shelf waiting to be used by everyone.

Well, I really set myself up this time didn't I? Mr. Wiseman eh? I'm sure it will happen. I'm gonna say something stupid. It hasn't happened yet though. So far I'm spot-on. I'm flawless. I dare you. :)

Beg to differ? Then do so. If I'm wrong - factually, opinion-wise, or grammatically (i employ poetic license a lot obviously), please dig in. Throw me your dirt. See how I do. See if I can stand up. I do not use comment moderation, nor will I ever. I welcome all comments...well I will consider all comments, if your talking about something ridiculous like violence then that's not really welcome, but I'll deal with it. It won't be deleted or censored. You'll just be making yourself look foolish.

But really I'm not out to make anger. I hope only that I might entertain and/or offer an alternate perspective on stuff. Have some fun really. Pleasure. I only regret that this post (in essence) is the result of a comment I made on another post and not from something I said in my actual blog. To me that would be great! Get it going. Let's not be so placid. Praise or Raze each other. You can only be a victim if you let someone victimize you.

b

One Blue Wheel

got new wheels, one blue, and i hate gainesville. i had to call an old boss, from an old job, about my W2 in 2005, givin' him my old address so I can get a "return." he acted like i was his long lost buddy. my mind tried to find the memory to make it so.

see, my wheels wore out. i had the same longboard since november 1998 in gainesville. one of my best ever investments. when my car was stuck, wouldn't run, no license anyway, tickets, and my 5th bike was stolen, i skated to work, or wherever, met up with friends. same board. even that job i had gettin up at 5am to make the breakfast banquet @ holiday inn in 2003. me , the cops, criminals, cabs and street-sweeps, 0445 hours and there you have it.

5 black ones, and a blue one. like nut shells on stage with a little ball beneath one, or a card game in Vegas - "I'll take these four," I said.

"Well here, take four black," the man said.

"No, if it's OK, I want one blue one...you know, for fun, to be artistic."

An eyebrow went up, "Ok."

so today i got some money. i tore off the two back set of wheels, off their rim the other day, poor two piece construction, so with the new cash I got some wheels, one blue. a great friend that board, yes, amen.

i been messin' round with "my space." 'f ya must know - www.netspace.com/bradleyalbertburkley. eye came across a "friend request" from a person in Gainesville. connnected and bounced and clicked around. i took a look at, checked on, a lot of people i used to know, it's been almost over a year. and there they are. on the net-vehicle, all of em would know about my longboard.

seeing these kids again, it wasn't much different than seeing them in person. the facade of friendship for convenience, the ultra-temporal interface, the shallow comments. I hate fucking Gainesville. made me think of "You Me And Everyone We Know" - a good film about the wall we use to connect with within technology. everybody's in a band, or wants to tell you about who is, at least in the psudo-punk crew i was adjacent to. So - Hi to all at "The Top!" - all - including my drunken ghost!

i'm hungry still. but the worst part of the fire is nearly out. i finally found a way to care about someone other than myself. i'm caring for other people. smoke out? no, i'm wearing an ointment that guarantees a cure from the narcissism. i'm entitled to nothing, none of us are. and it's a pleasure to learn this. happier to know this i am. yes, indeed. we all once were young though. i'm growing up, maybe. wether i like it or not. so be it.

i can't wait to try out my new wheels on the skatepark tomorrow.

b

The James King Version

I'm thinking of doing a retro-active version. A blog with my final version of my book: The James King Version. AKA - A Posthumous Autobiography of Good Confusion, Trapped In The Escape Pod, and For Days On End. My Library of Congress cert. is as The James King Version.

I would like to re-publish the book as a blog one section at a time and include pictures scanned and uploaded to go with it since, by my definition, the book is non-fiction and pictures of the actual people events and locations would add a lot.

I haven't even looked @ JKV in a great while. I got sick of it at one point. But since I have either sold or given away all but one copy of the final version, I am reconsidering doing something fresh like this, and it would be fun too eh? I might even turn Versa Vice into a book at some point, and then back into a blog? Hmm.

Well I'll keep those out there who are out there posted. And thanks for the recent increased interest in Versa Vice!

As for Hana - whatever, she is who she is. Perhaps not as deep in the directions I projected, and deeper in dimensions I missed. Nonetheless I really like meeting strong character types. People who are mysterious in some capacity. There are a lot of shallow mundane people and I fight to stay awake while trying to be courteous in social situations sometimes.

As for pot smokin' - as in my "Religion is Blasphemy" entry - a friend of a friend over the weekend and hell, what do I find myself doin'? Tokin' the with the joker! I enjoyed the second half of it. In the first half of it I have that "what am I doing?, what should I be doing?" anxiety. I just think people who are smoking it everyday and tell you about it with pride, and pretend to be peaceful but are high strung and delusional because of it should be avoided. I find in my area, that pot smokers are most often conservative republican meat eatin' hot-head construction-worker beer-drinkin' rednecks, so perhaps I need to get out of town a bit. Well, of course I do - get out of state, out of country, out of mind.

b

A Visit From Hana

Drove out to the country, the west side of the county. A confused weather day. Overcast but warm. We were gonna pick up Hana, Amber's cousin, at the house of their shared aunt. I had had ideas for other plans that evening, but I forgot about the visit from Hana. The kids are at their dad's for the weekend. We arrive in Espanola at the old boxy square country house with mentafacts and other articles about the door and side that would speak of America in a gone day. The house was probably nearly the same 10, 20, 50 years ago.

When we got out of the car I could hear rattling near the front door that spooked me in the darkness, but Amber was going around to the side. She knew the place like it was her home. She grew up next door where her parents still live. I was feeling like I was dreaming. Hana yelled from inside to come in when we knocked. The house was dark. So is Hana. Wooden, varnished wood, low lights, adjusting pupils and shapes in the dark. We found Hana in the better lit front room. She was messing with the locks on the front door. At first I thought she was still trying to get out, but she was locking up. The Aunt was in town.

This place is like a fort, she said as all shared greetings. I sat on the brown tweedy couch.

I thought that was the point of living in the country and having guns, so you didn't have to lock everything up, I snickered.

Oh there are guns everywhere, she said casually. I got a couple goosebumps and had an urge to look beneath the couch. I detoured this thought with picking up a book from the shelf, "Encyclopedia of 1977." It looked worn by time and browning, but never opened. I thumbed through as Amber and Hana launched into conversations on subjects between themselves. Stories and such mid-book that I could by no means catch up on as these two had grown up together. This was their theater. I was an extra with a cameo.

Hana returned attention to me for a moment and began a mini tour of the house, her old room, pictures of such and such, black and whites, Amber adding some details. Laughs and heads shaking adding to my disorientations. We were gonna pick up Hana and maybe do something together tonight - why are we still here?

Hana has a pale classic face. A '30s film star even. Dark eyes and dark hair of mixed dyes and various cosmetic experiments that came together. Big fake diamonds in her ears that fit, bright serious lipstick that might make you pucker in your sleep if dreamed of, and tattoos about her body peeking out here and there. I tried to place the shapes and letters without staring. Hana is a fruit that fell far from the tree. Figuratively and literally, She's visiting from Oregon, somewhere near Portland. She lives there now with her husband, an artist. Where Amber's part bohemian, Hana's part punk...but in a matured way somehow.

Aunt Ceil's got a thing for animated inanimate objects, Hana explained as I stared into the face of a plastic sewing kit/tool complete with moving eyes and mouth and made to look like it was part of a log and would open as a circle split thru the circumference. I followed them into the other room as the three of us had made a complete circle thru the house and were in the darkest part of the house again. Hana turned with a monkey puppet that began singing and I nearly screamed. I think she laughed or smiled, I think maybe they saw my freaked out face, I think it was a monkey, I can't be sure, it was dark.

I tried a rocking chair as they talked and saw "1873" on the stove pipe furnace in the living room. There were a string of lights colored white that could have been used for Christmas by a mirror in the center. The only light in the room. Now they were ready to go, just as I was nearly comfortable. I was ready for a seance.

C'mon, said Amber.

Shhh, just a second I said, listen.

There was nothing. No sound. None. I got up and left the chair. Maybe I would have a gun or two if I lived out there myself. Certainly the locks. I followed back out the side door where we came in and before we went down the platform,

Look! I said to the girls, the rocking chair is rocking itself!


We drove into town. I talk with Hana. But mostly she talks to Amber, and they whisper a lot. Girl stuff I know. Amber knows me well enough to baby me a bit though. She'll take little breaks from the chatter to rub my arm or pat my back, maybe a peck on the cheek. She spoils me with attention, I know this, but it's all a little unusual for our weekend without the kids. I sat in the back to be polite so they could talk. I think Hana thought that was weird. I think she likes tough guys. I've got that English respect for women that some American girls can't understand.

I said chatter before didn't I? That's the wrong word. That suggests something loose and reckless. Hana's not reckless. She's controlled. She's demure but still striking in appearance, aloof but sharp, and seems sophisticated in a low key way. She's lived in the woods, she's lived in the city. She seems to know more about me than I do. She replys to my statements as if to start arguments, but keeps communications. As if what she adds to anything is the last word, but doesn't need to make a point of it being so, it just is. She seems to read my mind. She seems to know of some weakness within me which I have not discovered. I feel childish around her sometimes, and she's younger than me. I need to travel more some day. But now I'm settling down.

She's the same age as Amber. She and I are on the same plane, we're getting along gloriously, for 7 months strait now. This maybe makes here old girlfriend suspicious? These two know each other inside and out, they've seen each other's boyfriends come and go. Is Hana on to something? Does she see something in the cards? Something Amber even is too in love to detect?

Shit, now I'm writing Soap Opera. That's not what I intended, I intended nothing though. I wanted to write about the last 12 hours for some reason and it came down to this. Well, Hana's still in town so maybe this is part one. The two of them went to the gym. I'm here alone now. We're supposed to go "out on the town" tonight. Just shoot some pool really. Last night we watched a movie together, well Amber fell asleep before the mid point. Too much Shiraz. It was only Hana and I at one point. At the end, when she spoke of the movie, it was as if it was the only and final review. We went to bed.

b

Some Further Blasphemy

Now acid, acid's another story. All should make the setting for it and do that once a year. And only once a year. Naked on a private island in a perfect world. Some water and some fruit, maybe a friend with the same objectives. Then think about what we learned for a year. Been a while for me. We'll see what's in Daytona tonight.

b

Religion is Blasphemy

I wish to manifesto! Manifestos are always: only of the ego
what more do you want?
you're not ever there
I tempt and try you.

I jump in the ocean

In my wetsuit I feel like a superhero
on occasion I stroll past folks bundled up and like
from Quebec and Miami alike
jump in the ocean and paddle out
i feel like a superhero eye tell ya

Jesus, what the fuck with religion?
I wrote a poem once
"Church of Mine"
it's about the ocean
'f I was muslim I could fatwah myself
see those buggers are as quick to X each other off as they are anyone else
but that's religion
all religions
Xing someone off = religion

Religion itself is the very thing that makes a GOD person in nature an atheist
those who are religious in their faith
I find,
are blasphemous, unfaithful, and far, if not furthest from "god"

judgment itself entering the human mind is the apple
the original sin
don't let fruedmeister tell ya it's sex
sex is just another distraction
mediocre
the cruxzt of the mechanical human looking for soul
none the better
or to be found
the lothario blues

or self realisation for jung
i read a lot of his stuff and others
a great bus system in Gainesville Florida
frat boys and sorostitutes alike on the bus
the bus was uncool at one time
but try to park your car around that town,
mid semester
for me you can get a lot of reading done on the bus,
and I did

think about it mr. average american
what if you did a little reading while on the road
not reading on the road while on the road
but being able to read while riding
it works out great
but what would you read?

riding the bus is american blasphemy more than the truth that -
Jesus was a human
human
human
human
(if he was more than human - then what's the big deal in getting crucified right? should be the fact that was human and came back that was important, and how the christmeister lived that we study - if christ was God - then big deal - it was all a show a god commiting suicide is like looking for dirt in the mud)
human -
just like you and me
capitalistic, patriarcal?
gotta have someone above you delivering the vice and it's solution eh?
so be it

you could be free

NO MATTER WHERE YOU LIVE

even america

but you're not, american but not
you're fixated on Idol and Plastic
you're stuck in Today Show Mud with your SUV
You're good mourning america ate your fox in the hunt
But FOX is blasphemy to the original american mind
the enlightened french ones you intend to abandon perpetually for french fries french toast and reefer, all fake

yeah,
that's right Mr. Steve Kilbey,
reefer is apple pie
you think it's the way of bohos
the advent aversion to the straits?
guess what -
it's the fave of meat eaters
and Garth Brooks lovers
ok to smoke pot?
sure I'de say, IMO
do what thy whilzt

but face it
'ts no silver bullet
the worst most negative people I ever met were potheads
not because they were high
but because they were so high so much they didn't know it anymore, and couldn't get a fix even while stoned. This is blasphemy, this is reefer as religion, it's pointing out the finger that points out the moon. Look in the mirror.

people always think i'm stoned though
so easy for me to say i guess,
"don't smoke pot"
already there
perma-stoned from a guy who was never a stoner
really wanna rebel these days?
rebel against the rebels
dime a dozen

I'm next. Eat me, or take a bite.

b