Practically perplexed as how to form a more perfect life
Peacable vexed on how to iron out the rims on my strife
Same as before when I was in this state
Same as it was when no one could relate
So I picked up some things and went to another place
Things were quite different in the heart of that race
But they all fell apart in the depths of the heart
In the capitol of evil that existed from start
Maybe its all just illusion my friend
Like ancient script wisdom that you reap on the wind
So there's nothing concrete I could plant at my feat
And I might just go hungry in search of some meat



The Audacity

I have this friend. We have been pals on and off since the seventh grade. Towards the end of high school this friend's idiosyncrasies led him down a path that made it hard to be friends with him. Scattered, stoned, insensitive, thoughtless, spread too thin, these are the sorts of things I'm talking about. He would make plans with multiple people and inevitably he would fuck someone. He would make plans and show up hours late. It always seemed like when you were with him or just talking to him you would get interrupted by someone else and he had no ability to prioritize. I am a pretty hard lined individual especially when it comes to respect and how true respect is shown in one's actions. I try not to be late. I do NOT make concurrent plans with multiple parties. When I am with a friend or speaking to a friend I give them my undivided attention.
Life is full of 'cost/benefit' ratios. At some point, maybe our sophomore year in college, I decided that trying to be friends with this individual was not worth my time. I spelled it out for him as I had all along the way. I said "Dave, it is hard to be friends with you." I didn't sever all ties I just didn't make any effort to contact or see him. By this time we didn't live in the same town so it wasn't hard to avoid him. I made it pretty clear that he had fallen off my list of best buds.
Well, some time went by and my heart softened a bit. He was living in Lubbock so when I would pass through I would see him occasionally. He had a party pad which was convenient. It was always fun to hang out but his personality problems persisted and so I never felt like there was any real reconciliation. No hard feeling really but I never forgot how being friends with Dave was like kayaking in rapids too far advanced for your skills. Always flipping the boat upright and never knowing which rock was gonna send you to a watery grave. Something like that.
Dave isn't in Lubbock anymore. Now he takes care of his grandfather in North Carolina. He doesn't have a job. He never finished college. He has given his parents more grief than the law would allow. I think he is doing better than he has in the past but its nothing to give him a medal over. I saw him back at Thanksgiving. He told me that someone else quite recently had told him the same thing that I had said to him years before. Something to the effect that its hard to be friends with you Dave. Well he is doing some kind of cleansing process. He calls me up last night to "reconnect." He mentions something to the effect that he has had time to realize who the important people are in his life. Then he makes the comment that he is there for me. There to support me and to offer help. But the way he mad it sound its not that he's just offering help if I need it its that he's calling to help me. Then he started talking crazy like usual. All kinds of deep innerpersonal / spiritual shit. Not that I disagreed with what he was saying its just that's not the kind of thing I want to talk about. He wants to help me reconnect with my inner divinity and other such new age bollocks. This is totally unsolicited help. He didn't really even ask about me and its like breaking a dam to get a word in edgewise with this guy.
So basically, since Dave has his life at least part way on the track he wants to call me up and tell me how my life is half assed and he has the remedy for me to reconnect with my inner divinity and what the FUCKING BOLLOCKS...

I mean, homeboy has good intentions, but fuck, I been holding it down for years mas o menos. I am at a healthy place. I have a great job and I am doing what I always set out to do. I am making my living as a graphic artist. The audacity of Dave to call my ass up and tell me that he has the key to a better life...





Damn I sure get worked up over my friends blogs. I mean I get worked up over alot of stuff but sometimes I get all emotional over shit that people write. Just now I got so worked up over a comment at thedetox that I had to comment on a comment. And I can't tell you how worked up I am over beakdip's little hiatus. 'Course really I am worked up at TM for beating jefe down and sucking the life out of him.
Also I just dropped $700 on car repair and my mutha fuckin CHECK ENGINE light just came back on and the thing is singing all high and shit.
I just gonna breathe now, laters...




I read the Craigslist personals everyday. I have done so for about two years now. I never respond to the posts. Mostly because I figure that women posting get about a thousand times the amount of responses as do the men and the chances are ill fated. Or I have been in a relationship. I really just enjoy them for the insights they provide into social psyche. But If I did respond to a post it might sound something like this~

Allow myself to introduce ... myself~
My name is Matthew, which I suppose you could have deduced from my e-mail address. I am 27, I am an artist who is currently employed as a Graphic Designer for a beer company. I have dark hair and dark eyes. I stand 5' 9" and I am a muscular 175 pounds. I believe, and others have confirmed that I am good looking. Plus I'm funny and clever and some people say talented (although I sometimes disagree about definitions of talent). I play soccer, I swim, I kayak, and I do some cycling. I go to the gym about 3 times a week just to stay toned and flexible. I have a job and a car and I live alone.
Aside from all these facts and figures I am a dealer in excitement. You did say you need some excitement in your life for a change? Right? What kind of excitement are you looking for? Do you like to drink? Do you like to smoke? Do you like music? Do you like to dance? I consider myself an aficionado of these things and more. I am well read and well traveled. I have been back in Austin for about a year now and I am looking for a partner in crime to spice up my usual well trod but inevitably exciting paths.
I noticed you didn't ask for a picture. I would be happy to provide one. Like I said, I have never responded to a personals ad so I don't have one on hand. However, if that's important, and you by some damn miracle reply to this e-mail, I would be happy to provide you with a pic before any commitment to meeting took place.
I would ask one thing. Respond even if I'm not the one you wanna meet. I think taking a chance on me would be your best bet, however I would really like a form rejection letter if you choose otherwise. What I am really curious about is the number of responses you get. Maybe just an e-mail with a number in the subject line that corresponds with the number of responses you got.

Putting myself right out there

Matthew Rampage, aka The Deputy, aka Kidd Matteo, aka The Dread Pirate R, aka Senor Sol

How did that sound? Convincing? It's all true.




The prognosis on my car isn't good. The mechanics at my work can't figure it out so I have to take it elsewhere. My only hope now is that it ain't too pricey. There is nothing poetic about car repair. It is the most prosaic thing that I can think of. I would like to be poetic right now but I can't seem to muster the gumption. I gotta figure out now how to get home from work. Maybe by Yellow Submarine.


The Creek

I might be better off writing this stuff on little pieces of papyrus and gently dropping them in the creek.
~pronounced crick~
More people might read it that way.




Man oh man, I had a run in with an angel yester eve.
I am driving home from a friend's house. I have imbibed, once again, a few beverage products (so much for spring cleaning eh?) but I am OK to drive, not OK for the cops, but OK to drive, if you know what I mean. I'm on 183 and I am using the mixmaster to enter southbound Mo-Pac. So as I enter the ramp for the fly-over my check engine light comes on, my car makes a few muffled sputters and then full stall. No power and I can't get it started again. I coast to a stop right at the Y for north or south. I am on a pretty steep grade. Its a really bad place to be stopped. There is no shoulder and no chance of me pushing the vehicle out of the way. I begin to freak out a little bit. I put on my hazard lights and I get out of the car and start waving people around me. All I can think about is the near certainty of me being arrested. My thoughts are "nobody is gonna stop to help me except for an officer of the law," And, "there's no way a policeman is gonna stop and help me without fully investigating the situation." And "I'm a really terrible liar." I pretty much thought I was fucked.
Somehow, after many a hard knocks experience, I remember that I am for sure fucked if I panic. So I calm myself a little and begin pleaded with passing drivers. "Help" I say, "Help, my car is stalled, Help I DON'T have a phone." Much to my surprise a stately, white-haired gentleman in a suburban, leans out his window and says "You need some help?"
"Yes please," my frightened response.
So he pulls in front of my car. He digs around in his back seat for what seems like an eternity. He pulls out a chain with hooks on both ends. He gets down under my car, and at this point I am really terrified that someone might hit my car endangering not only my feeble life but also the life of this blessed good samaritan. He is down there for what seems like another eternity while I frantically wave cars around this flim flam on the jim jam of a situation. He finally gets back up, he secures the chain to his truck. He then proceeds to tell me what to do.
"Yes sir,...yes sir." come my answers.
He asks me if I'm drunk.
"A little bit," I reply, then I wonder to myself if this gentleman is associated with the APD. "Nevermind." I think, at this point I honesty is the best policy.
So then the Suburban and its saintly owner pull me down to the next exit. As we exit the highway, the chain breaks, but I have enough momentum to get into a Hollywood Video parking lot. He shoots ahead but comes back around to see how he can help out anymore. I thank him profusely. I tell him I can handle it from here. He asks what I wanna do and where I live. I tell him and he offers me a ride. I accept because I am still buzzing scared of being incarcerated and I just wanna flee the scene.
His name is Walter Cardwell and he is an ex-International Business lawyer who now manufactures non-lethal weapons, like pepper spray. What a nice dude. If you see Walter give him big ups from the Dep and let him know his work is appreciated.
Lucky MO fo.
I still don't know what's wrong with my ride, I don't really care but I must be more careful. Yar.




Aaaight, ya'll, spring is here and I for one am in the mood for a little spring cleaning. Let's put it like this. In the spring of 1996 I went to Mexico with a group of friends. We took a bus to Mexico City. We stayed with a friend, Carlos, at his family's home in Puebla. Halfway through the week we went back to Mexico City and boarded a plane for everybody's favorite Spring Break destination, the fabulous city of Cancun. I had my seminal spring break moment in Cancun. You know that moment when you're at Senor Frogs and the girls are walking around spraying shots in peoples mouths, and things are getting really crazy, and maybe there is a wet T-shirt contest afoot, and people are falling off of balconies, and pants are coming down and tops are coming off and thongs are being shown. Archetypes. The classic spring break moment. It was pretty sweet. Well something snapped in my subconscious right at that moment. Something deep inside of me. One of the voices decided to break from the chorus and that voice said,
in tone that filled the heavens...


Now at first I only half heartedly obliged. I still had to finish college, and by some accounts I was a bit of an upstanding citizen. But since that day I have, I swear on my Mother's grave, imbibed at least one beer every single friggin day. I have skipped nary a day in the last 8 years. Now that's at least one and up to, oh I don't know maybe 23 beers per day. Dig it?And that's alongside all the gunja, and pills and eventually powders that I would so faithfully place into my body for the purpose of LIVING TO PARTY. For a while I couldn't admit this to myself, that I was living to party. But after a couple life threatening moments and some serious crash and burn episodes I have begun to see the err of my ways and I think I am finally ready to do something about it. I have been a very functional party person down through the years so I don't think I need AA, or NA or any other kind of support group situation. I have a pretty great group of friends for support. Now it is just down to a 'do it or suffer the consequences' sort of thing. That shit is all up to me.
8 years, if you count the pre-game warm-up of the 2 years before the Mexico trip we could call it 10 years, that's a full decade of my existence that have been mostly devoted to the party. Its been fun, I mean I really have had a blast, but geez, I've got some other things to do. See ya soon suckas, I'm cleaning my shit up and I'm coming to a town near you.'
The Deputy



Departure Overture

I think I would like to get out of the city this weekend. I was just discussing it with my attorney. He suggests we go to this part of the Guadalupe River that is extra cold and stocked with trout. Its just this side of San Marcos. There are lots of great camping spots right round Austin but only a short season, one in the Spring and one in the Fall, in which the temperatures are pleasant enough to camp. Its pretty tough camping in the summer around these parts. Sweltering I tell ya. I think we (My Attorney, His Lady and myself) will pack up the gear and go out and south to the river. I really need to get outside and get in some serious ree lax a tion.
So there's this little music festival here this weekend. South by Southwest, maybe you've heard of it? Well I'm told that its a big damn deal. All these wanabee, up and coming and well established musicians descend upon this humble burg once a year for a real 'rah rah ras kick em in the ass' festival of all things band-y. Austin is the 'Live Music Capitol of the World' (self-titled) if you haven't heard. The music scene is all encompassing and all important around here especially this week. Now I have mixed feelings about this. I love music. I love to sing and dance. I love the way music feels on my skin and the way it makes me feel in my heart. In truth I would like to be a little more focused and make some more music. This is where the problem arises.
I got beef with this festival because I don't have my shit together enough to participate. I mean we are talking about a deep seeded, burning with the passion of a thousand Victorian furnaces, green to the gills ~ ENVY. I am envious of all these guys that are doing their band thing, making music and making it work. I am trying to face this problem by admitting it and owning up to it. I would like, in this next year, to really work on my own stuff enough that next year I can really enjoy this festival. I mean c'mon, what a bad attitude I have. This is a FEST ival.
I am deeply flawed. I think the best way to handle that is to identify the flaws, separate them into the things I can change and the things I can't, and just get to work. I will take this weekend to get out of the city, get out of my stress zone, write some lyrics and focus my mind so that I can produce. That should make my attitude a little better.
I would like to congratulate my friend Eamon McLaughlin on his Austin Music Award in the category of New Band Of The Year for his new project The Green Cards. Cheers Mate.
See yall later I'm Gone Fission.



Wet Concrete

Man I feel like I'm slogging through wet concrete so far this week. All these little things keep happening at work and I'm just not getting much done. Some of it is a result of my less than vigilant attitude to the minutiae of life. If you don't stay right on top of the little things there will come a time when they will bite you in the butt.
I want clear intentions.
I want my thoughts to envelope me in the conditions that will lead to success.
I want my actions to seamlessly mirror my thoughts.
I want to look at the little things and realize that I am in control.
that form doesn't control me
that task isn't my master
hey grueling tedium, You're not the boss of me.
sup sucka?



Hard Headed

I am a Taurus. I am stubborn. Some say hard headed. This is the pejorative way of describing this particular personality trait. I like to apply of a more positive spin, like perseverance, steadfast, maybe dedicated. Most people just see me as stubborn. Ask Mat Honan, or Beakdip if you don't believe me.
This gets me in trouble from time to time. For instance, I have a bit of difficulty admitting my mistakes. Sometimes I am just unwilling to see where I fucked up. Oh I damn near always see it from the other perspective in time. But sometimes it takes like a month or so. Right now it has been a month since this little late night, drunken incident that occurred between myself and this friend of mine. We'll call her Leyla, cause that's her name. Maybe at the risk of seeming like more of monster than I really am I will omit the details. But suffice it to say that I was in the wrong. I fucked up. I couldn't see where I fucked up until I discussed the situation with this mutual friend, let's call her Tiffany, cause that's her name. Tiffany made me understand WHY I was in the wrong which was the keystone that I hadn't quite grasped. I'm glad Tif and I talked.
So here I am. Senor Insensitive Bastard is my name. I have been trying to get ahold of Leyla all day. She won't return my calls. Ce'st la Vie but a hard pill to swallow nonetheless. I hope that my hard headedness hasn't lost me a friend this time. There have been a lot of close calls in the past on the friend loss tip. Usually things got worked out. I don't know what I'm trying to say here except ~ I'm Sorry Leyla.
She doesn't read this though. Crap.
I am a Taurus.



Being Bored is only for the Boring

I've been a bit bored lately. This is strictly against my personal policy. I firmly believe that being bor-ed is only for the bor-ing. I have learned to make my own fun in life. I mean geez, I'm from Lubbock Texas. That's a place in which you learn to make your own fun or perish. I think its this phase of existence, which I will call the Karma Coma, that finally motivates a person to start their own perpetual motion, self fulfilling manifestation, of art and life and creativity. But here's some things, in no particular order, that I am excited about these days.
~ living alone
~ Chapelle's Show
~ Kanye West
~ getting back in touch with old friends
~ my friend's blogs
~ being single
~ freedom
~ The Sopranos
~ Spring
~ sleeping through the train sounds




As it turns out, Piracy is an excellent cure for depression. I can't be the first human to discover this little tidbit. At the end of the day I think Piracy is a regular "cure-all." Its like an old fashion wild-west tonic.
I was depressed, about a year ago. I didn't know how I was gonna get out of this massive hole of depression that I had fallen into, through my own desire and folly. It was about this time that the Buckaneers and Raiders were slated to play in the Super Bowl. This coincidence stuck me as... well... coincidental. Around and about this time, myself and some of my mateys started injecting the sound YAR into our everyday speech. Now, the YARs alone began to help my down and out mental state. Something about the particular vibration that one produces in one's throat from saying YAR was like the seed that would grow into the tree of happiness. But there was something more to this lifestyle. I then did some plundering and some basic pillaging. Then I stole this guys girlfriend and I wrote a song about it. Then me and my mateys began expounding the pirate lifestyle to others. And well, before I knew it, sometime at the start of last summer, the depression was like an ancient mariner's tale. A thing of the past I tell ya.
Maybe it ain't for everybody. Maybe it ain't really a cure ALL. Maybe I'm not the kind of scallywag that needs to be handing out advice like a venerial disease. All I know, and I'm only speaking from personal experience, is that Piracy is the miracle I've always been looking for.
Comandeering your Ass
The Dread Pirate Pee Pee R
aka The Deputy
aka Senor Sol




Can I get a show of hands of all you states that hate Texas.
Alright Oklahoma I see you, you can put your hand down now.
Colorado, OK, Cali, OK, Hawaii, I had no idea, Louisiana, the feeling is mutual.
Oklahoma, I said you can put your hand down now.

I went to Oklahoma City last weekend. I haven't felt such massive anti Texas sentiment since that Hairdresser on the Haight street gave me a mullet and a lecture just cause I mentioned that I was from Texas.

You don't get to choose where your peephole opens in this crazy world. All I can do is now is reprezent the best I can for a kinder gentler Texas that exists maybe only here in Austin.

And oh yeah, screw you too Oklahoma.


Hilarious Hypocrite

Somebody just reminded me that I should really get back to this space.
I have 45 minutes til I can get out of my office so I will devote some of that time to a public discussion of how I have seriously lost my muse these days. It happens every once in a while. I create and create and burn myself the hell out and then I wake up one day and realize that I am living life on a subsistence level. Eat sleep shit fuck work drive and thats it. Pathetic really.
I always find that inspiration again. Sometimes in the strangest of places. I have even been known to pull myself up by my own bootstraps and get going again. I'm gonna try that right now. I am going to post alot this next month so hang on to your hats my dedicated readership. Which consists of I believe ~ mat harp jefe and maybe sometimes jeb one? I don't really know. In fact, if you stumble across this drivel just give me a little shout at

who ~ you might ask is this hilarious hypocrite

that's me

The Deputy


I just found the thorn in my own eye... ouch