Fuck Reasons

Her name is Vida Guerra. Her name translates into "Life War".

I don't know who she is or what she's known for and frankly, I don't care.

Too many of us spend time looking for reasons for everything. Vida Guerra, my friends, doesn't require a reason.



There was an incident at therapy today. As I sat down on the comfortable therapy couch in the warm therapy room decorated with warm and soothing therapy colors and therapy pictures, I was shocked when the therapist threw an observational grenade my way.

"Rob, you are so great at being completely naked."

Infuriated, I threw my Diet Cherry Vanilla Dr. Pepper that my mom says lots of tough and hardstrong men drink right at her therapy head! I made an accusatory comment that included a contention that if I women thought I was so great at being completely naked, I'd have no need to be in therapy. I then calmed my emotions and asked if this observed skill might get me some sort of consultational discount. Sadly, my skills will NOT, in fact, pay the bills.

After cleaning the mess up and finding an ice pack for her forehead, my therapist explained that she was speaking metaphorically and was in fact complementing me on my ability as a writer. As many of you know, she reads this little bastard twin brother of mine known as "I Don't Mind if You Forget Me". Apparently, she is under the impression that in many ways I am more real and honest and "naked" under the guise of Rev. Rob than I am in real life. While I have always believed that my naked skills were best served in other arenas, I do see what she is saying.

While this half-fiction, half reality version of myself has often amused me and occasionally amused you, I'd never really thought too hard about what my little acre of cyberspace actually meant in regards to the immediacy of my life. I think that while half of this will always be bullshit (and that's a promise you can take to the bank), I'm more apt to speak honestly and without reservation in this forum than I am in the real outside dirty world outside.

There was a reason I started this thing over a year ago. And in about two weeks, I'll be celebrating the anniversary of the end of my own destruction that was rooted in that original reason. But while the reason is rooted in shit, that reason fertilized this beautiful thing you read today. Oh, it may not be beautiful to any of you (outside of the "Children") or eloquent or even marginally good for that matter to any of you. But this blog or column or obituary of days going by has been and will continue to be my salvation. The original reason doesn't matter anymore. Reasons may explain origins but they don't necessarily determine outcomes. Fuck reasons. I've spent too much time in my life trying to understand the "why" of so much that I often misspent energy that should have been used to either enjoy, distance from, or appropriately loathe the reality of the present. Each day, minute, or second is one of three things, generally: Good, bad, or neither. And that's fucking it. I can seek out reasons when I must if they will help me to learn or to avoid or to cherish. But my friends, be careful not to let the process become the life you live so very hard...

...and I say that to my beautiful friend who finds herself unexpectedly pregnant. Don't drown yourself in the analysis. Follow that gut and that big-ass heart, hold on to that kid and go. My brother who is cooler and taller and more talented than me even though he is a musician who watches "Felicity", "Laguna Beach", and "American Idol" and is amazingly not a sixteen year old girl but a strong man with new doors opening to him as he's been accepted to one of the best graduate programs in the nation despite the fact that it's in a toilet of a town--just go. To my father who is on his fifth marriage but has found hope in mission work in Honduras and honest work at Home Depot and who doesn't read this thing but I hope is hearing me on some subconscious level--go.

For all of you my friends, I sincerely wish that you'll speak, write, love, fuck, pine, drink, smoke, wish, embrace and commit yourselves to all and everything and all. And when you're done doing those things, repeat. Just do it honestly and nakedly and you'll never have anything to apologize for. That is living in humanity and reasons become moot points in such an excellent existence.




One of my true heroes in life and music, the GREAT Morrissey, is coming to fucking Oklahoma City! To the best of my knowledge, Morrissey has never once performed in the Sooner State before and in all likelihood never will again. I'm there. You're there. We're all there. Buy your tickets at www.startickets.com and we'll laugh, cry, and brood together. If you don't know who Morrissey is, you really should find out while also questioning whether or not you really have any business knowing me at all. Anyone who can write and sing songs like "Hairdresser On Fire", "Girlfriend in a Coma", "You're the One For Me, Fatty" and "November Spawned a Monster" without cracking a smile is mightily skilled. In my estimate, Morrissey may be Chuck Norris' only true challenger in a gladiator death match of badassedness.

A girl I know is returning from New Orleans sometime in the next few days. If she'll return to me is another matter. Hopefully, I'll have some "fuck reasons" to sort out with her...



Album of the Week: "The Life Aquatic Studio Sessions"

Artist: Seu Jorge

Song Highlights: "Rebel Rebel", "Ziggy Stardust", "Changes", "Suffragette City", "Space Oddity"

Song of the Day: "I Don't Mind if You Forget Me"

Artist: Morrissey

Album: "Viva Hate"

Lyric of Possible Relevance:

"I don’t mind if you forget me

No no no no no no no

You can only be strong for so long

It may not eat you, but it will beat you

So this is why I tell you I really don’t understand

This time."