Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Lyrics, man Pt. 2

I've heard this song many times, by different people. Tonight the lyrics finally hit me.

Hallelujah, by Leonard Cohen

Now I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
It goes like this
The fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you
To a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

Baby I have been here before
I know this room, I've walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you.
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
Love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

There was a time you let me know
What's really going on below
But now you never show it to me, do you?
And remember when I moved in you
The holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Maybe there’s a God above
But all I’ve ever learned from love
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you
It’s not a cry you can hear at night
It’s not somebody who has seen the light
It’s a cold and it’s a broken Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

You say I took the name in vain
I don't even know the name
But if I did, well really, what's it to you?
There's a blaze of light
In every word
It doesn't matter which you heard
The holy or the broken Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

I did my best, it wasn't much
I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch
I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you
And even though
It all went wrong
I'll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Monday, November 29, 2010


All the hair that's been pulled out thanks to the tape on my arms the last two weeks is starting to grow back and itching like a motherfucker. I don't know that pain is necessarily worse than an itch you can't scratch.

You try going to a doctor for a prescription to deal with itchy short arm hairs. If you don't get laughed out of the office or thrown out by security, you'll go home with nothing but a co-pay bill and a script of STFU.

Okay, Now What Do I Do?

There's nothing like being bored AND broke.

I'm restless...I don't want to watch TV, read a book or play a fucking game. I have a cigarette, then count how few I have left and immediately regret smoking that one.

I sleep, stare at the clock and drink coffee. This week, I will add "look for a job" to that list. I feel lost sometimes.

I've been listening to the radio for multiple hours, specifically 107.7 The End out of Seattle. Remember growing up and listening to the radio at night while you thought about that guy/girl you like in high school? I've come full circle.

I'm hoping my nerves settle. I hope I can just calm down and enjoy the moment. I'm not in jail, rehab or dead. Be thankful, right?

But what do I do now?

Thursday, November 25, 2010

Sometimes It's All About Me

It's good to have friends. A couple of my comedian buddies set up a way to donate to help my unemployed and recovering ass:


I wouldn't promote this if I didn't really need help.

I do need help. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010


...for the simple reason that I need to distract myself from being out of pain meds AND cigarettes, is "Denzel Washington is a Badass" night. I'm watching "Training Day", "Book of Eli" and "Man On Fire" tonight.

"Man on Fire" is one of my favorites. You want to set Denzel off, you mess with a little blond white girl, apparently.

I almost went with "Ethan Hawke Is A Whiny Bitch" night, but there were too many of his movies to choose from.

Monday, November 22, 2010

I'm Not Dead Yet...I'm Getting Better...

I must be getting better. Within the past 24 hours I've bitched online about the Beatles on iTunes and Kid Rock's new album. When trivial shit irritates me, it means I'm feeling close to normal...at least at that moment.

A friend picked me up for dinner then coffee and smokes. It was nice getting out and acting like a normal fucking human being. He and I reflected over all the shit he and I had been through in the past 6 or 7 years...which is a lot. We came to the conclusion that we were still alive, and neither he nor I have any kids (that we know of). So we've got that going for us.

The doctor says my arm is healing well, and that the wound "looks great". Gah. My arm looks like part of the game "Operation"...there's a piece of my arm missing, and they filled the hole with tomato sauce. Yeah, that's gross. You should see it. No, you shouldn't...which is why I have no picture to show you...it's fucked.

My strength is coming back. Pretty soon, I'll be healthy and ready to be rejected at job interviews. Hope hope.

Sunday, November 21, 2010

Vices Are Not Hobbies

What I'm going to point out will probably just generate "duuuhhh" from everyone who reads it. I don't care, though. I'm going to do it just to encourage me to keep on the same path.

When you have an addictive personality and really love your vices, you will find yourself centered around said vices. That's all you think about, and that's all you live for. It sucks, actually, because I got into my vices because, well, they're fun. I envy people who can enjoy them and then go back to their lives with little-to-no consequences. Those people who can smoke, drink and do drugs on the weekend and then go back to being a non-smoking day job-having jag-off during the week? Yeah, you suck. Congrats on your ability to master moderation. Douchebags. I envy you.

You should take inventory of your life sometime. It'll depress the shit out of you if you're anything like me.
5 years ago, my interests were: booze, bar life, stand-up comedy, country dancing (at bars with live music).
3 years ago: booze, bar life, stand-up comedy, drugs.
1 year ago: drugs.
Today: reading, writing, skateboarding, meditation, Seattle radio/music (past and present), Sodoku/Crossword puzzles...and motherfucking stand-up comedy.

Here's the thing, though. Unlike a lot of people I've met in recovery and 12-step programs, I don't think alcohol and drugs are evil. I'm not going to tell you to just say no and shit like that. Live your life and have a good time. Just be careful and don't make your entire life be about the vice or vices.

Oh, and speaking of...and I'm quitting smoking again.

Smoke-free, take 37. Action!

Saturday, November 20, 2010

I Am Not House

A friend of mine said, "Dude, you're House now." This would be due to the injury and pain medication dominating my waking hours. He was being "hilarious" and not that serious, I imagine.

Funny thing is, my icon on instant messenger programs like AOL IM/iChat was a picture of Hugh Laurie as "House", and it is one of my favorite shows. If you have a show where the lead character is a drug-addicted asshole, chances are I'll be a fan (see: Californication).

You ask me if I want to be House, I'd have to ask, "Which season?" I don't want to be the Dr. House stuck in the looney bin or being harassed by a cop with an agenda. For a while, I wanted to be that character, and in a lot of ways I was. I kicked ass at my day job at a video game company, I had the attitude, and I was a full-blown addict. Of course, "House, MD" is just a fucking TV show, but even in fiction the character struggled with his demons and addiction. Well, guess what...so have I. I don't work at that job anymore for a reason. I self-destruct slowly...but when I blow up, I explode big. It took my apartment and my heart with it.

There's a major "cool" factor that goes along with being a creative fuck-up. Fans of Charles Bukowski, Hunter S. Thompson and/or William S. Burroughs will tell you they wished they lived that kind of life, even if just for a little while. Yeah...but there's a whole lot of fucked up shit you have to go through to live that kind of life, whether it be a heroin addict, major alcoholic or gun-toting booze-filled pill-popping journalist. Bukowski drank himself to death, Hunter shot himself when the pain was too great and Burroughs? Well...his bio ain't pretty.

I've been both the world class drunk and the junkie. I just forgot to be successful while doing both. Typical me...rock star lifestyle without the rock star money. That comes out to an assful of debt, major addiction issues, failing health and lots of time to yourself wondering, "What did I do?"

I waited 'til the last minute to clean up my act...I figured losing everything was enough, but I hadn't lost my health. That is what I am paying penance for now. I told a friend of mine the other day that I was like Job, only without being a good guy and close to God.

"So, you're actually more like Sodom and Gomorrah?"
"Okay, yeah...but without the butt sex."

So, all of my experiences and my actions make up what I am today...me and my persona, John Fucking Rabon. JFnR can turn the pain into an interesting blog or a great onstage bit...one that makes some audience members uncomfortable but most laugh and say, "I'm glad that didn't happen to me! Yuk Yuk!"

As for the real me, I'm pretty sure my self-destructing days are behind me. The problem is how to put Humpty Dumpty back together now. I've been to the edge, and I'll never be the same because of it. I made it back alive, but I brought back with me some major scars and a felony conviction (oops). How do I get back on track and back into society? The jury is out on that. I guess stay tuned? It's going to take some work, some time and a shitload of help from people who care about me. And thank Christ, there are actually people who care.

So, no, I am not House. And I don't want to be him anymore.

The Walking Dead

Great series, right? It's nice to have quality TV for once...something different than an hour of following a Z-list celebrity's daily life or seeing the inner workings of a fucking pawn shop. However, the subject line isn't about the show.

I'm in a weird place right now. I sleep a lot, and when I'm awake I dose myself to ignore the throbbing reminder of my current woe. I watch the time tick away as if I'm waiting for an upcoming event, but there isn't anything coming up soon. The benefit show for me is December 1st, but between then and now, I just have time.

Time for what? To recover...to start looking for a job again...but what else? I don't know where I fit in anymore. I'm not a bar fly anymore. I don't want to belong with the 12-steppers, but I can't really hang out with my existing friend base either...at least not like I used to.

"What are you going to do with your life?" I...um...wanna rock? I wish it was that simple. I wish the answer to life was a Twisted Sister video, because then I would have an ultimate goal and sense of purpose. Right now, I feel I have neither. I currently do nothing but exist. I eat, sleep, take pills and move my arm around 'til it hurts.

It's a struggle to be creative. I'm forcing myself right now to write this. I wish I could spend all my free time creating...writing...but I just don't feel up to it yet. It doesn't seem like I have anything to say.

What am I waiting for? I don't think there is anyone who can save me from this. I'm going to have to pull myself out of this rut I've made and jumped into. I can probably get out of it...just not today.

Friday, November 19, 2010

"How Are You Doing?"

For the record, this is not to induce sympathy (empathy?). I just want to let you guys know how it's going.

Friday's appointment went well with the wound care people - the wound VAC came off...I'll find out on Monday if that's a permanent thing or not. It more than likely is. That would mean we move into the area of dressing the wound every X number of days and wait for it to seal up. Pray that it does and that I don't need a plastic surgeon to do a skin graft.

Side Note: I keep wanting to type "skin graph" but that implies something completely different and weird as fuck.

Okay, now the bad news. I'm going through withdrawals from hospital pain medication. Can you believe this shit? The prescription pain meds help get through it, but it turns me into a dazed and drowsy jackass who just wants to sleep and watch bad TV.

I can tell my arm is getting better, but throbbing pain is a consistent. I'm bored here at the house, but I don't really know that I want to do anything, if that makes sense. I'm restless and worn out at the same time.

Thanks for everybody's support.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Well, That's Great

I was informed that I no longer am employed due to my lengthy hospital stay and upcoming recovery time. So, I'll be looking for a job soon.
I don't know if I'll be able to find another low=paying part-time job, but hopefully they're out there.
If anybody has any leads, let me know. I will be able to work in a couple of weeks, I believe.
I think I'll be getting out of here in the next day or so. Here's hoping. Thanks to all of your e-mails, calls and visits. You guys rock.

Saturday, November 6, 2010

Say Hi!

Right now, I'm blocked out of reading and posting on Facebook. Some people would call that a blessing, and in a lot of ways it is. However, many of my friends live in that fucking social circle. Who knows if it's possible to break through to some of those people and get them to come back to the primitive "e-mail" or, God forbid, phone.

Well, people, I'm recovering in Austin Heart Hospital, and I'm bored. My e-mail is smokepuppet@gmail.com and the phone # for this room is 407-7222. If you'd like to take a break from your Fun fun fun weekend and say hey, that would be cool. Could someone post this shit on my FB page?

If not, I've just discovered Sudoku, so I've got that going for me.

Thursday, November 4, 2010


Hey all. I'll be brief, but I figured I should update everyone who cares about my current condition/situation.
Firstly, when you hear "John's in the hospital", there's a lot of things that come to mind. Let me just say, No, not because of anything 'funny' going on. I have cellulitis.
From WebMD:
"Cellulitis is a skin infection caused by bacteria. Normally, your skin helps protect you from infection. But if you have a cut, sore, or insect bite, bacteria can get into the skin and spread to deeper tissues. If it is not treated with antibiotics, the infection can spread to the blood or lymph nodes. This can be deadly.
"Some people can get cellulitis without having a break in the skin. These include older adults and people who have diabetes or a weak immune system. These people are also more likely to develop dangerous problems from cellulitis."
My right arm was swollen to twice its normal size on Saturday. I went to the ER at Austin Heart on Halloween, and I've been here ever since. Recovery is going well, and if you want to find out more info about it, shoot me an e-mail. I'm going to be here for several days, and I am not opposed to visitors.
If I hadn't come in...staph infection leading to serious shit, but I am not contagious. (Internal infection, relax.)
I'm thankful my friends encouraged me not to try to handle this on my own, because this turned into a pretty big fucking deal. We're looking at possible skin graft and physical therapy in the near future. But I've got my family and you guys. Thanks for your support.


PLEASE NOTE: The WiFi at Austin Heart blocks Facebook. Seriously. I can't read or post there. So, I'll be updating here. When I found out I couldn't communicate through Facebook, I actually thought, what am I going to do? The Internet has turned us in co-dependent pussies.