We Are All a Work in Progress

Warning: the following graphic image may be disturbing to almost anyone. If there are any small children present or anyone that may be offended please ask them to leave the room immediately. I'm not starting until everyone leaves. Okay are they gone? Great. I didn't have time today before dinner to go on and on and on about how horrible the hospital was in fact, I've barely started on that topic, but I know a lot of you out there are probably getting tired of reading about it. You're thinking, "Wow, I wonder what Josh is going to write about today. I can't wait to check because I'm so excited to read the same old boring thing." Whoo Wee who needs that kind of motivation? I certainly don't. Right now the hospital is just a fading dim memory of a time that seemed like it would last forever and now im in the time where my wound seems like its taking forever to heal and not really doing much of anything and if it never heals then i never get the ostomy...

So much happened to me while I was in the hospital, that it makes me tired to think about. Since I get tired now from doing almost anything, I don't like to think about the hospital much anymore. But the people demand the truth, and who am I to deny them. The truth is, I think in my last blog I completely forgot to mention the fact that when I woke up in the hospital after about 3 days of being heavily sedated not only did I have a huge scar and a bag attached to my stomach, I had 3 separate drain tubes stuck onto me also. If you are reading this, and know what a drain tube is, then you are clearly a nurse, or related to someone who has had drain tubes stuck to their body. I know what you're thinking, you're thinking "hey wouldn't people related to nurses know what drain tubes are also?" the answer is: not really. Nurses understand that people they are related to don't want to hear about the icky parts of their job and so don't generally share them wit...

Okay, so probably at least like 13 or so of you guys were getting really crazy amped up about my new adventures with chrohns disease and the ostomy bag that saved my life. I should have been writing more. I apologize. I'm serious. Also I have no idea what I am going to write and I hate that and I know that readership is going to drop dramatically which is pretty important to me in my ongoing life saga right now. So, at this moment I am feeling a lot of physical discomfort which is making it hard for me to focus and put out superstar quality writing but I'll do my best. This is for the Fans... Hospital Stories So, Id been at the hospital for several hours and my cousin who had just come up from Virginia to visit and take me out to a surprise dinner was now watching me anxiously as i was strapped to a bed and getting ready to be wheeled in. She works at a hospital and assumed that made her part of the brethren there at Saint Luke's Roosevelt Hospital and was poking around the...

Are not going to be told today. I know I had promised my Aunt Louisa that it was happening but it appears in fact that it is not. My days just sort of seem to slip away from me and before I know it its dinnertime and then I go to bed and do it all over again. By 9oclock my back hurts and I just want to sit down and I just can't focus on writing right now at all. I'll try to do it tomorrow, maybe earlier in the day. We'll see.

This is the second part in a multi part story. In case you haven't read the first part or are too lazy or uninterested to do so. I shall summarize the events thus far. But is that really fair to the readers that are eagerly awaiting this new chapter and don't have time or patience to muck around and find out that I had chrohns disease for 10 years and it caught up to me recently and my stomach exploded and I went to the hospital? Is it? After all, Peter Jackson didn't bother with any of that catching up crap with "The Two Towers" he just went right into it. You know that whole "Frodo can I look at the ring?" "No Pippen it's mine! My precious" that sort of thing. Okay so I had just been dumped off by the emergency crew of CSI: New York at Roosevelt Hospital and after briefly seeing a doctor and signing my life away resolving them of any blame in case I died I was unceremoniously dumped onto a bed in a small waiting room with with 3 walls, a ...

If you are reading this, then chances are you may have heard that something is wrong with me or that something happened or I was in the hospital, or I'm dead or I have syphilis or something. Fortunately all those things are true and I am writing this from beyond the grave with one amputated leg. But really, what is wrong with me? I get asked this question with some frequency and I have to admit that despite my eagerness to talk about myself and have people listen to me, the frequency of this occurrence has dimmed my enthusiasm for the telling of the tell somewhat. For a while when people would ask me what was wrong, I would refer them to my facebook profile and ask them go through the tedious process of reading everything that I or my friends and acquaintances wrote online, or they would press me and then I would give them a short answer. So I decided that the time had come once and for all to tell the tale of woe and uncertainty that has befallen me. In order to tell it properly ...

As a person who mindlessly soaks up every bit of cultural minutia, I read a lot of articles. Specifically, I reed cnn.com every day and I just read probably the one millionth article written about the mobile phone wars. The bottom line of every article is always exactly the same - it sums up earnings for whichever companies it is talking about and then speculates about their future earnings. Also, by the way, why are articles written every single week about what the top grossing movies are? Is it that obvious that the movie companies pay the newspapers to write about them? How symbiotic is the relationship between writers and industries that make a ton of money like cell phone companies? Also why is it so important that we (meaning me) who constantly keep up with whats going on are forced to be barraged with meaningless news and pointless rumors like this? I can barely comprehend why news media outlets aren't running more coverage of the billions of dollars spent every day on the...

Everything in NY is based around events. People are always asking you to go to this event or that event. All the papers and magazines like TimeoutNY or AMNY or the Metro are advertising the latest cool thing that you should be going to tonight or tomorrow night because chances are you don't have a group of friends that just sits around and does random shit together like go to Starbucks or watch a movie. Everyone here seems to think that's boring. All you have to do is walk outside even and you'll see posters up advertising Mexican Wrestling and Tacos, or a HOT97 concert in the park, or a reading at Barnes and Noble by a popular author or comedian that you didn't even know was an author. In fact, everyone you know in NY is dying to invite you to their latest event or thing that they are no doubt a part of. If you don't know someone that doesn't want you to come to their comedy show of some sort, musical concert, poetry reading, kung fu class, or theater piece, t...

As of this moment my computer is infected with a computer virus which I contracted last night in a rash of watching illegally streamed television shows like Dexter, Boardwalk Empire, The League, and Weeds. It was actually Weeds I was the most frustrated about, because there were only 8 links to the episode and they were all taken down which drove me to insane heights of looking for that episode and doing whatever it took to find out just what had happened to that crazy drug dealing family this week. Fortunately there is an internet cafe/computer repair store on my block where i have been sitting patiently waiting since 4 o clock for my computer to be registered as clean of viruses. In that time I've eaten 2 cup of noodles, paced around a lot, and made possible trades for my fantasy football team. There is a girl sitting next to me that it is out of work and i cringed when i heard her begin a conversation this way "hi i used to work there" Ive also discovered that i missed...

Today's topic may seem a little petty to a lot of you. Condiment choices may not seem like a big deal to a lot of people. Well it's not really a big deal until every time you want mustard you are handed that stupid bottle of Guldens Spicy Brown Mustard and all you want is regular ol yellow mustard. Every time I bring this up to someone in New York they always say the same thing "What you don't like Spicy Brown Mustard?" I say "No. I like yellow mustard." I just went to the Gulden's website and apparently it was invented at South Street Seaport, a notorious location for tourists, gawkers, and people with a lot of money and free time. It's no wonder that they like spicy brown mustard, they think its just what people use around here. Ketchup and mustard are pretty much standard ingredients for pouring or slathering on a hot dog or a hamburger and you don't see New Yorkers using some special kind of Ketchup, NOOOO everyone here just uses plain o...

In other parts of the world there are things we take for granted, like running water, toilets, and mailboxes. In New York we take none of those things for granted, and just pray to God that the first 2 things work. New York City does not have mailboxes. There are mail slots, mail chutes, male nurses, and drop boxes. We even get our mail underneath the door sometimes but no actual mailboxes. In a real mailbox you are able to send and receive mail, including small packages. In New York, you cannot actually send out mail through your mail delivery system, whatever you have. Mail carriers will not pick up mail from your location. It's a fact. Why is this? Probably because New Yorkers steal anything that is not nailed down. To mail something you have to find a freestanding localized blue or green mailbox. It doesn't matter how inconvenient it is to find it on your daily commute to your subway stop, that's the only way to do it. If you are in a hurry in the morning and don't ...

It is impossible to find parking in New York. In the time it takes you to read this sentence someone has already taken the first open parking spot you saw, and a guy in an acura has pulled up behind him to ask if he is leaving and how soon. The second open spot you saw has a fire hydrant in front of it that is obscured by giant bags of trash which are being picked through by a homeless man who is looking to add to the worlds largest collection of aluminum cans being carried around at any one time by one person. But yet, some people persist in attempting to park their car in New York. Very often they will drive around for up to an hour in an 8 block radius from their destination thinking that eventually a spot will open up. Yes, eventually if you drive around in New York enough, a parking spot may open up. You may also be struck by lightning while fishing. The odds are about the same. Parking signs in New York are not your friend. They are often mislabeled, confusing, or defaced so as t...

# 1 Everyone in New York is angry all the time There are 10 million people living in New York City and thousands who visit every day from all parts of the world. The people who visit are happy and wander around aimlessly pointing up at the sky with their cameras dangling around their necks amazed at all the sights and wonders that await them around every corner. The people who live here just wish they and everyone else would get the hell out of the way so they can get to where they are going. Living in New York makes people angry. It takes forever to get to anywhere, everyone is always in your way, homeless people are begging you for money, and everything costs too much. Its hard to walk down a street in New York during the day and not see someone randomly curse someone out on the phone. It often goes something like this: "Yo I told you to get me my f--n money. I'm f--n serious. Jesus I'm sick of this sh--. What do you mean you can't? You said it would be here today! F...

I'm blogging this morning because I have some time. I have some time because I slept probably about 14 hours out of the last 16 hours or so. I slept so many hours because I was super tired. I was super tired from working at 4:30 in the morning at JFK airport so frequently where i promote wi-fi in the sky! Gogo Inflight internet is the name of the service. I've been working this promotion since September 2009. I could complain but seriously there's no point. It got me the new apartment that I'm sitting in right now which I'm extremely grateful for. The Lord has taught me that you need to be grateful for everything including the noise upstairs which seems to come from neighbors of Spanish speaking descent who like to watch tv when I am in bed at about 8 or 9 o clock. I just remember back to the times a few years ago when I was totally broke (unlike now hahhahahahah) and walking around Manhattan for hours at a time looking for work and having nothing to show for it. So...

http://www.helpflo.com/video_detail/?contentid=9223371833558028172 Seriously I just don't know if its fair posting videos on my old blog to get voted on for progressive insurance

By the time I met James, I had lived in Brooklyn for 6 months, and had recently discovered the joys of NYC couch surfing. This was because my roommate had apparently not paid the rent to the landlord during my entire stay, causing us both to be evicted with 3 days notice. During this exciting time I was sleeping on various couches and trying to avoid leaving my toothbrush in someone else’s bathroom where it could be contaminated. I also experienced the joy of waking up one morning to discover that a concrete block had been thrown through my car window in the middle of the night because it was parked in Harlem and loaded down with all my worldly possessions. For some reason, I had not realized just how bad an idea it really was to leave a car packed full to the windows, parked in a cramped urban area known throughout the world for crime. Who knew that cable boxes were such a hot commodity? After paying to get my window replaced, I quickly found another place to hunker down and avoid tem...

I don't think this is all too much to ask for. A lot of other people have travelled this same road before with varying degrees of resistance. Maybe they were better looking or luckier or smarter than me or knew the right places to go. But they did it. I'm sure it was hard for them. I know Harrison Ford spent 13 years as a carpenter before he got anywhere. I haven't even been here 2. Of course I did spend one summer as a carpenter. Man I was terrible at that. So. I say my prayers. I take my vitamins. I eat my Wheaties. And every day I just duck my head under and plow straight on into the maoelstrem that is living in New York City on a wing and a prayer. Cuz it's hard. It's damn hard. I need all the help and support and love I can get. Boy this thing sure isn't getting any easier. I feel like I'm pushing a boulder uphill. But God told us to speak to that mountain and tell it to move out of the way. Maybe my voice is a little timid right now when talking to the...

So I just finished watching the Life Aquatic tonight. It's one of my favorite movies. It's about a tremendous failure who sets off on a mission of revenge to kill a jaguar shark who may or may not exist and to gain the love of Ned who may be his son. Also he's a bit of a pompous ass and he may have no idea what he's doing. It's the kind of movie that makes me sit back and reflect on my time here in New York. You know like: what does it all mean? Does it mean anything? Does any of this matter? Was this all just a cosmic mistake? Did I get my wires crossed? I mean am I really getting anywhere around here? Sometimes I just don't know. I just set off on one adventure after the other chasing down the impossible dream and trying to lasso it in and ride to the shore. Maybe bring along a girl with me, but I always scare them off. I tend to stare I think. Probably because I'm scared. Except in the movies whatever character does that finds some sort of soul mate that ...

Continuing my long series of stories and essays that were formerly part of other works of mine that were unfinished, here is what used to be the first chapter of a book I was working on called "What It's All About". Hopefully you can see how this could easily be the intro to my new book. What It's All About This book is about words. Lots of them. There's no getting around it. There are quite simply a lot of words in a book. That is what separates a book from a pamphlet. Okay, a pamphlet usually has a coupon on the back to tell you how to join a fantastic mailing list for only five dollars a month, but you get the idea. Why did I write this book you ask? Well, if you looked closely at the title then you may have gathered that I am about to tell you what it's all about. Many people have made clever attempts at this over the years by telling you what they think it's all about or what it is or how to get there. But this book simply cuts to th...

This is an old story that I'm putting in my new collection of stories for my new book called "Why I Hate you and Other Stories" yes that is mean to be taken with a wink and a nod. Anyway I love this essay and I hope you all do too. I try to be honest with my readers, and usually I succeed. Unfortunately, I have no idea what I just said, and therefore, no easy way to string together a well thought out and funny sentence that would lead in easily from the first one. So, with that in mind, let’s talk about banking. Most of you readers out there work and have a job, and that whole thing. So you’ve probably discovered that you tend to have more money than you can spend at one time, and the government doesn’t make it any easier by making it hard to get any bills over a twenty. So, unless you want to have your wallet stuffed with 20-dollar bills, or cram your mattress full of money and hope you never have a fire, you’ll have noticed that you need to put your money in a place...