Ow the pain!

Not a day goes by where I don’t feel like Kevin Costner in Dances With Wolves.

“It’s a bad habit and I’m sick of it!” he says at one point.

And I’ve created a lot of bad habits over the last few weeks….bad habits like “having feelings” for someone, “feeling alive again”, and being reminded that perhaps “the world isn’t such an empty void after all.”

Fuck that.

What the fuck are “feelings” anyway?

Is that what YOU people call “emotions” or “possessing real concern for others”? Or, even worse, “love”?

I’ve never had any of those sensations and I never WILL. That shit is for the plebs. Not me.

I’m a fully healthy adult male. I’ve learned to bury my emotions deep down. Hell, I don’t even feel them anymore because I’ve gotten so powerful.

When I see a child crying on a street corner begging for my change, I say “tough shit, kid. Take this opportunity as a learning experience. Never let them see you bleed. Never let them see you cry. You want something in this world, you TAKE IT.” So I give him my .38 and direct him to the liquor store.

That’s how REAL men solve their problems.

Shit factory coming up clutch

So I was just minding my own business and crying in a corner when I received an urgent call from a boss I had from years back.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Hey, this is your boss you had from years back and I’ve been thinking: I can’t stop thinking about you,” he explained.

“Oh?” I responded.

“So I was wondering…,” the voice continued to stammer, “would you like to come back and work for us? I miss you. I miss everything about you. I miss your smell, I miss the way you giggle, I miss that fine ass of yours…”

“Well,” I said, “I’ve been thinking a lot about you too. Sometimes I stay up late touching myself…” ANYWAYS… “….yeah sure I’ll come back and work for you,” I replied. “What’s the pay?”

“$4.00 an hour plus an endless supply of Waffle House gift cards.”

“Goddamnit,” I said. “Alright, I’ll do it.”

So now I’m onto my fourth job of the year 👍

Where’s Beau?

So I’ve been getting a lot of questions lately. Questions like:

“Are you dead?”

“Are you taking a break?”

“Have you FINALLY given up on writing?”

And really the answer to all these inquiries are quite complicated. Of course I’m dead. I haven’t felt a thing since Dock Ellis pitched a no-hitter on LSD in 1970. And I’m not really taking a break either.

I think what’s happening is that my brain has been fundamentally rewired. A lot’s happened over the last two months. For starters, I work 900 hours a week and I’m trying to get HOT (as in sexually attractive). Obviously that takes a lot of time.

Have I given up on writing altogether?

Not exactly. I’ll just say my writing activities have been…redirected towards other outlets (and that material will never see the light of day). It might be a minute before I return to writing fiction.

GOOD NEWS though: I’m mulling over giving the internet what they’ve been clamoring for. That is, of course, showing my penis on OnlyFans.

What a weird ending

I’ve always been a defender of Star Trek TNG Seasons 1 and 2. They at least tried things.

Did it always work? Almost never.

But there’s this episode from season 1 that always haunted me. It’s kinda a popular one: The Big Goodbye. It features legendary actor Lawrence Tierney and it’s about the holodeck malfunctioning. After they fix the problem and the episode is about to end, one of the characters realizes that he’s simply a computer program. As Picard is about to leave, the program asks the Captain a chilling question:

“When you leave and this world still exists, will my wife and kids be waiting on me at home?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

Picard departs and the program ends. End scene.

It gives me goosebumps every time I watch it.

Was it worth it?

For the record, I didn’t have a “weekend fling”.

It was more like a weekend fantasy. I was totally blindsided by it and she was COMPLETELY above my league.

Needless to say, I was in over my head so I panicked and sent her a few text messages which revealed my hand.

Do I regret it? Fuck no. Because it reminded me of two things: I’m still very much alive and not absolutely dead inside. But more importantly, it reminded me that true happiness is completely unattainable.

And that’s what ‘Beau Montana’ is all about: reminding you that your dreams will never happen. We are all doomed to live a meandering, empty life until mercifully die, never to be thought of again by anyone.

This is actually a good thing. As an artist, we thrive on this kind of pain and suffering. So in many ways this should HELP my blog. Yeah, that’s right.

In the meantime, excuse me while I go cry in a corner 👍

Goddamnit Deion!

What a year it’s been!

First I play a game of chicken with my employer (and win), THEN my wife leaves me, and now I lose my mortgage to FanDuel by betting everything I had on Colorado beating Oregon!

Fuck this. I’m just gonna go back to making drinking and prostitution my vice!

FanDuel©️ Make Every Moment MORE

Leap Year (2010)

Sometimes, instead of digging through the trash heap that is the Tubi catalog, I’ll try to find a film that is both titillating and thought provoking. That’s when I came across the indie film out of Mexico called Leap Year from 2010.

Movies about masochistic relationships come a dime a dozen these days which is why I nearly skipped over this one. But I’m glad I didn’t this time. The film’s only location is in a shitty apartment and the actors, who are nude for roughly half the screen time, aren’t what you’d find in a typical Hollywood production.

We follow around Laura, played by Monica del Carmen, as she eats, masturbates to her neighbors, uses the bathroom, and brings home strangers to fuck. She finally meets Arturo, who begins to enact his sadomasochist fantasies on her…usually at her own instigation. Critics of the film accuse it of being misogynistic, being halfhearted with its exploitation of sadism, etc etc. and, in my view, those critics missed the point entirely.

This is an exploration of loneliness. The sex isn’t supposed to be arousing. The characters aren’t supposed to be fully committed to the acts they’re portraying. Laura engages in these activities because they’re the only way she can feel anything. It’s not entirely clear if Arturo enjoys all of it. They are sweet to one another while sitting on the couch after sex, but the camera is distant, almost as if they try to generate a connection but it repeatedly fails to materialize. Finally, as February 29th draws near, Laura’s intentions become clear as she hopes to end her life in one final act with Arturo.

If this were a normal Hollywood movie, Laura and Arturo would realize their love for one another and they’d live happily ever after. OR, worse yet, they’d actually go through with the act. But in true anti-climatic fashion, Laura’s brother inadvertently saves the day and Arturo fails to appear.

The ending may come across as a bit too optimistic: Laura simply flips the calendar to a new month, possibly signifying better days ahead. But it’s so low key that it might be open to interpretation. I see it as demonstrating the impermanence of loneliness and depression; life goes on.

I must say that Monica del Carmen gave what possibly might be the greatest performance ever committed to the screen. She delivered exactly what the role called for, and that alone is why you should check our Leap Year.

Deer self

My therapist told me to write a letter to myself where I tell myself how valuable and important I am to myself to make myself feel better about myself. So here it is:

Dear Self,

I am so proud of the person you have become. It’s been awhile since they’ve asked you to leave the premises of a Home Depot and you no longer “accidentally” walk into a bank wearing a ski mask. You may not be perfect, but by god you’re trying and that’s the important part.

Now I know that this letter may come as a surprise to you, but personally I think you’re a genius. Fuck the haters. I know that it’s illegal to drive drunk through a school zone, but the police are just jealous of you. They’re always following you and asking about your “whereabouts”. But I have some advice for you: cut off that ankle tracker and go live your life. Steal your ex-wife’s car and flee down to Mexico to live your dream as a bartender like Tom Cruise in Cocktail.

Just keep believing in yourself buddy. No one can stop you: not God, not the Federales, NO ONE.

You’re bulletproof.

Love,

Beau Montana

Maple leaf rag

Yeah so I was just walking through the neighborhood, minding my own business while playing ding dong ditch, when an ice cream truck rolled by. It had been awhile since I’ve seen one so I flagged him down.

“It’s nice to see ice cream trucks coming back through the neighborhood,” I told the man.

“That’s good to hear,” he said. “What can I get ya?”

“So do you carry any wacky tobacky?”

“Sir, I sell ice cream exclusively.”

“Oh that’s cool. What about some booger sugar, if you know what I mean?”

“I promise you sir, I ONLY sell ice cream.”

“Damn. Well what about porno mags? Carry any Penthouses?”

“No! Now do you want any ice cream or not?!”

“Don’t get testy with me, sir! Back in my day, ice cream trucks carried loads of contraband! No one bought ice cream from them! What the hell has happened to this country?! I’m a 57 year old man that was in Vietnam! I went there for a week to buy some knock off Jordans! You young people will never understand the struggles we went through in the 90s! They never should have let Bush in the White House!”

The ice cream man threw up his hands, shut off the Scott Joplin music, then sped out of the neighborhood.

Fuckin kids these days, smh 🤦‍♂️

Fuck Jay Norvell

I’m gonna shelve the rage-fueled post that I was writing and channel all that hatred towards Colorado State football coach Jay Norvell.

Seriously, fuck that guy.

For the record, I think college football is a joke. People who think it’s genuinely better than the pros are delusional and it’s unfortunate that the sport has ruined collegiate athletics beyond recognition. But today I’m gonna change my attitude.

Today I’m a Colorado Buffaloes fan, perhaps Colorado State’s biggest rival, and that’s all thanks to Jay Norvell and his bullshit notion of “manners”.

Everyone knows that press conferences in sports are a waste of time. The only time I ever empathize with Bill Belicheck is when he rolls his grumpy ass up to the stage and fields dumb questions from reporters. They’re boring and useless and we’d be better off without them.

But on rare occasion, like when Dennis Green lost his cool after losing to the Chicago Bears, that something interesting happens. It’s nice when players and coaches realize that sports is an entertainment industry, so they do what they’re supposed to do even in press conferences: they entertain.

Deion Sanders understands this. Right now, he is the smartest man in football and everyone else is a fool.

Jay Norvell KNOWS that Coach Prime is the smartest man in football and he is panicked. Norvell is gonna get his ass SPANKED by Deion Sanders on Saturday and there is nothing he can do about it.

If I were in Norvell’s position, I’d simply tell the media that it’ll all be settled on the football field. What I wouldn’t say is: ‘When I talk to grown-ups, I take my hat and my glasses off. That’s what my mother taught me.’

Now you just look like an asshole.

Who’d want to play for that guy?

I wouldn’t.

Coach Prime realizes that the media is another tool in his arsenal. You want to motivate players in this day and age? You use the media. Sure, other coaches have tried to do this, but Deion does this with style and flair.

It’s cunning. It’s strategic. It’s goddamn genius.

And all these old-timey coaches with their old-timey “manners” can fuck right off.

This is Prime Time’s game, and you’re just playing in it.