Thursday, February 03, 2011

Number 9

On my top ten list of All Time Rackets in Human History, Number 9 comes in at: Paying for a parking space. Now, let me be clear, and fair, here. I understand that parking DECKS might have some costs involved: construction, maintenance, security, etc., and I can get behind that. But when you charge me to fill an EMPTY AREA on the street or in a small lot, you lose my support. What was there before me? Nothing. What is there after me? Nothing. So in the interim, I can't occupy that space without incurring a fee?! A fee makes an empty space "mine"?! What if I just keep paying it? Can I live there, in my car?
I'm sorry, I know this rant must be old (comedically), but it just feels like a kind of logic that invites ludicrous, slippery-slope premises. It seems ANY space I'm not currently occupying would be up for grabs in this worst-case scenario: "Welcome to our fine restaurant, sir. Please to enjoy our foods AND our special on sitting chairs tonight. Only an extra $2 with the purchase of your meal."
"Excuse me sir, do you plan to stand in this part of Target much longer? I'm afraid this is our Pay-To-Stand Zone. Our free, Standing Convenience Area is up front by the doors."


I make word thoughts from my head lump using my pants compooter.

Saturday, July 24, 2010

Now

I love my backyard right now. Right now, It is July and there are tree frogs and crickets and a full moon in 93% humidity. And with a sense of victory to boot, I'm feeling allllrrrright. And full of Knob Creek.


I make word thoughts from my head lump using my pants compooter.

Saturday, May 01, 2010

An irony, unobserved

Some friends visited today. Good friends. Old friends. I had news to share. For the first time in quite a while, I had REAL news. But they started to talk about their lives. Depressingly. They are not satisfied with their lives. They seem to be unwilling or unable to acknowledge the disconnect they are experiencing between their own lack of action and the lack of worthwhile success they desire. Now, I'm no expert at this either, only having recently begun to understand that in order to be anything, one must do something, but even I found the path of this conversation debilitating to my spirit.
I wanted to share my news, that I was starting a new job, potentially a much refreshed life, on Monday... But I couldn't. There was no way to inject optimism into this exchange and all I could do was sit and mostly listen. Quietly, I pitied the denial of our choices. I secretly know the cause of our apathy, our stagntion. But I couldn't talk about that either.

Potentially, I do have reason for some optimism. I'll be interested to see where I choose to be in another six months. I have to start DOING something.

I make word thoughts from my head lump using my pants compooter.

Sunday, March 14, 2010

Old Fear?

I dreamt of a monstrous, pitch black wolf or dog. Large enough to be ridden by an average sized person, the dark beast terrorized the grounds of a resort hotel or an upscale apartment complex. I couldn't tell which. I knew of it's violent attacks, but never saw one. I only ever saw it's shadowy form roaming the wood's edge enclosing the buildings. As the dream pushed on, she, and yes, I knew it was female, was joined by a pack of silver, normal sized wolves. A primal cadre ever circling us behind the dark trees.
The fear felt... old. Like it had been inside me forever.


I make word thoughts from my head lump using my pants compooter.

Sunday, March 07, 2010

The Age of the Birds

A faint rustling from a neighboring backyard was the first sound to alert my attention to their presence. The sound approached, still softly but constantly. The dog waited patiently beside me, as we both now stared into the burgeoning flock. No less than fifty grackels grazed rapidly, but surprisingly quietly, only a backyard away now. Save for the rustle they created in the fallen leaves of each yard, they were a silent machine of consumption, efficient and methodical in their primal, unceasing quest. I couldn't help but consider that, only a few million years ago, I could be seeing a flock of small dinosaurs or even prehistoric birds doing the same thing. My yard would be next. The dog lifted her head, focused her senses...
And did nothing.
So I clapped my hands manically and they erupted into the air with a panicked, collective burst .
Man win.


I make word thoughts from my head lump using my pants compooter.

Location:McCoy St,Birmingham,United States

Thursday, February 25, 2010

The Prodigal Blog

Several YEARS ago now, I left a post on this "blog" ( to use the parlance of our times ) that was basically a farewell to all of this exhibitionist nonsense. In less than 2 short years, the "blogosphere" ( to use the parlance of our times ) had erupted into a raging, uncontrollable sea of competing opinions and pedantic, shameless voyeurism. Every Tom, Dick and Harry had one virtually overnight. I mean, if you didn't, who were you? Who was appreciating your dry & acerbic, but informed, wit and observations? Why weren't you sharing every pivotal second of your obviously significant existence? Do you even really exist? If a tree falls in the forest and no one's around, who's reading my post about the sound it made?!
Alright, so I got a little dramatic for comedic emphasis... But the point I'm making stands! It got too big too quick and it just turned me off. Kind of like all the Harry Potter bullshit. I just can't trust something that TOO MANY Americans are suddenly into. In our culture, it usually indicates something that is overly indulgent.
Well, it's been another 4 years since that last post, and in the 6 total years since that very first post, the blogosphere has proved itself to be just that: Overly indulgent.
But we all live with it now. Everyday. Like a cultural reflex.
It gives a voice to millions of people who would otherwise be unheard. It permeates every level of media from entertainment reviews to political punditry, often turning average schlubs into flash-fried sensations, rapidly conflagrating in what has become 15 seconds of fame instead of 15 minutes. Why, we've even condensed blogging itself to a few mere words or sentences on social networking sites like Facebook and Twitter. No single opinion, expression, revelation or even inanity is immune from being shared... And in less than 140 characters, by gum!
And that is why I return.
With it's oversaturation and unyeilding activity, the blogosphere has finally become large enough to be a refuge for someone like me. You see, I strike a delicate personal balance between embracing and supressing the attention I like my writing to have. I don't mind being read, but I don't like feeling like I HAVE to be writing for people, especially people I know. That kind of spotlight is very unappealing to me. But now, I get to see how long I can hide inside of this mighty, abstract cyber-orb. Simply sharing a few thoughts from time to time, MAYBE putting up a photo or a video. Just writing in the now hidden, shadowy recesses of the interwebs, and waiting... for me to accidentally provide a laugh or rumination for anyone who might stumble by.
Blogging, Take 2. For however long it lasts again...


I make word thoughts from my head lump using my pants compooter.

Celestial Bodies

I just saw Mars move.
With an almost full moon as an unbelievably fortunate point of reference, I was able to simply stare and see the red orb pulling away from the moon on it's course across our sky.
Heavenly.



I make word thoughts from my head lump using my pants compooter.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Heh.

Heh.
Heh. Heh.
Heh. Heh. Heh.
Heh. Ha. Ha!
HA! HA! HA!
HAAAAAAA!!!!! HAAAAAaa.
Heh.


I make word thoughts from my head lump using my pants compooter.

Location:McCoy St,Birmingham,United States

Sunday, August 20, 2006

One ring

I let two months pass. Do you know why? 'Superman Returns' made me...not so happy. And conflicted. I wanted to like it, I really did. But some creative choices simply cannot be blindly abided by. Nobody asked for a illegitamite Superboy, Mr. Singer. Why would you do this to us?

Now, to the reason I have written today: Due to the fact that I have finally found a woman who is so worth loving I can never let her go AND who can (somehow) love me with all my annoyances and craziness, I have decided to ask her to marry me...And she said yes. Joyous of joys! We are engaged and I will be a married man. I will elaborate on this when my new fiancee doesn't want to check her email so desperately.
Until then.

Wednesday, June 21, 2006

Superman Returns.

One year later...
It has been 365 days since my last post. In that time I have fallen deeply in love, moved into one house with that love (and my sister) and am now preparing to move into another place with my love (sans the sister). Now, for all seven of you who read this blog while it was highly active, you are probably saying "What?! That's it! A year's worth of your MAGNANIMOUS life and that is the update we get?!"
Yes.
When I recently decided to choose this day to begin writing again on my blog, I made another important decision regarding this blog: Streamlining. Or cutting out the fat. Or downsizing. Call it what you will. But from now on, this little corner of cyberspace labeled "MINE" will only be used when I feel like I have something worthwhile to say. You see in this same last year, the cultural phenomenon known as 'blogging' has exploded into a mainstream industry, giving us access not only to the innermost thoughts of ingenious writers, comedians, historians etc., but also the worthless, ranting idealogies of religious fanatics and purtifying political pundits. And, um....who am I forgetting...Oh, yes! EVERYONE ELSE! Now most average folk simply use these things as on online journal. And most of the time, it works. If they are someone you know (or maybe you don't) and you read their blog consistenly, every now and then a little seed of wisdom or inspiring philosophy is bound to pop up. And the pictures! Boy, do people take fabulous, embarrasing pictures and then share them with the world! But every coin has two sides, and the remainder of these 'bloggers' are uneducated, materialistic, consumerist clods who obviously learned to type using their hairy, unevolved knuckles. Now it is my belief that anyone who started one of these a year or so ago was, on some TINY level, looking for a sense of notoriety. I feel pretty sure I was. I thought "Why, in a month, people across the GLOBE will be chatting up my cynical wit and wisdom over coffee!"
No.
This was incorrect.
I know now that this is written solely for the seven people in my life who choose to read it and if they feel like sharing it with someone outside of the Reader's Club, more power to them. But I am not a 'journaler'. I do not feel the need to discuss how my day was online. But what I will discuss is things I feel are significant to not only myself, but to our complex and decaying culture. In other words, I am now content in writing this for you, my family and friends. BUT HEED MY WARNING: This will not happen as often as you might like. And you will only encourage my IRE with persistent reminders that I have not "written in my blog".
That all being said, I had a decent day today. I had been sick yesterday and am now feeling much better.
JUST KIDDING! Did you think I was going to talk about my day? You wanted it didn't you?
Well seriously, I was vomiting everywhere.

Now to the tie-in with the title.
In one week from today, my favorite American icon will finally be returning to that greatest of pastimes, the American Cinema. It was 19 years ago that Superman last graced the silver screen. And nearly 30 since it has been truly entertaining. But I have the highest of hopes for this film and, because it is important to me, I am sharing my anticipatory joy.
Now, see...Isn't that culturally relevant?

Superman Always Returns. And so will I.

Tuesday, June 21, 2005

Post Mortum

I died.

That's why I haven't written anything.

Because I died.

But I have been reborn...
And as soon as I make a spare moment, I have to write the longest, hardest and probably one of the more important entries I have ever scribed.

It's...
It's been a month.

Tuesday, May 17, 2005

Crap.

Crap.
Crap.
Crap.

10 days. It's been ten days since I have put word one on this thing. I promise I am not letting this go! I am promising MYSELF that I am not letting this go. Oh screw it. Who am I apologizing to?! I'll write when I write.
And I KNOW I will have something to write about eventually...

In the meantime, here is a funny item found on a local menu:
BANG BANG CHICKEN and SHRIMP.

Good stuff.
It's a commitment to deliciousness.
But it is not for the faint of heart.

Beware the power of the Bang Bang Chicken and Shrimp.

Friday, May 06, 2005

Simply...

I know that this is getting old to hear, but...
I love this town.
I am no longer afraid of the completeness my soul finds here.
I am also no longer ashamed to be wandering the desert...
What once felt aimless, is now revealed to be the point.
I will wander...
And I will do great things on the way.
It is simply a matter of time.
And patience.
I eagerly seek the future.

"The power which I lend to my courage is directly proportional to the power which I yield to my fears."
--- Me


On a side note: Hitchhiker's Guide has consistently failed to impress the critics.
Why has everyone but those that share my mind lost the ability to know what constitutes solid entertainment? How is it that I am made to feel as though I no longer know what is solid entertainment? Why has the EXPANSION of imagination and perception become so frightening to our spoon-fed minds?

Our culture needs an enema.

Bend over and I'll get it going...
But first, perhaps a little sleep.

Tuesday, May 03, 2005

Bib-a-dee. Bob-a-dee...um...BOOO!

Gonna explode soon.
I promise. And I mean in a good way. A writing way. Not a crazy person way. Were years away from that now.
Just one of those things where I can FEEL the subjects on the very tip of my tongue, and just can't seem to get them out.
But screw it.
All the time in the world...
Unless the asteroid's early.
But I was promised 2018, so I'll stay complacent.

Short thoughts make easy readin':
I have a job.
I have stupid money again. Stupid fucking money. You can go to hell. You can go to hell and you can die! (South Park has given me so much in the way of profanities. Is that a contribution to my existence?...
Yes.)
The weather is beautiful. Even when it's raining.
The trains still sound wonderful. Especially when their training. (?)
My world continues to change.
I continue to learn to love it.
To feel it for what it is.
Nothing stays the same.
Confusion is inspirational.
Anyone says otherwise, they're being confrontational.

Darth Vader is about to be born. How dorkily wonderful is that.
It's so strange to see him and Chewbacca and R2-D2 on every imaginable, printable surface in the marketing world.
It feels like 1983.
But it's the future!!! Oooooooooooooooooo.
This is what my writing looks like when I don't think it out.
You wanna fight about it?!

Enough.
More to come. Always more to come.

I like smiling on the inside again.

Helps me to smile for those who can't sometimes.

Onward then.
Things to do.

Something more articulate this way comes...
I promise. I promise myself and every other poor soul who chooses to abide by my tortuous perspective.

Dig.

Wednesday, April 27, 2005

Forgive me

Posts may be less than numerous for the next few days.
The body and mind of me is busy.
The soul is distracted in unbelievable ways. Distracted as I search to create questions for answers I don't understand.
Focusing on writing is difficult.
Sometimes I can't give 150% when I want to.

At least I'm working for the next few days.

But that sounds depressing...
And I am anything but.

This is what I will say to keep this blog in a satisfactory state for the next few days:
I love being home.
I love the here and the now of life.
I am still struggling...

And it is wonderful.

So, forgive me. I still have lots to say. I just need time for words...

Thursday, April 21, 2005

Who wants ice cream?!!

I wrote the following in an email for a friend of mine the other day. Since I am notoriously TERRIBLE for living by my own words, I thought sharing it in a post would (hopefully) allow someone else to get something from it:
"Remember how strong you've been, how confident you are, and how fearless you are going to be and you'll never have to question your past, your present or your future..."

Granted, it doesn't have a lot to it, but it's still a good thought to hold onto. At least, I thought it was.

And now for the Lightning Updates Round!

-- Went with my father and Rebecca to see Daniel Wallace (of Big Fish fame) lecture at his alma mater, Altamont High. Quite an enjoyable experience. The man has a wonderful sense of humor and an undeniably unique take on his world and his writing. He's a little obsessed with glass eyes...But everyone has their thing.
Tonight from him I learned: To appreciate, explore and exploit the smallest of things when it comes to writing. It is these seeds, these unseeable, everyday things, from which the branches of the story will grow. If we are aware, and can see the small things in our lives, the subjects about which we write will choose us.

-- Hold tight kiddies! In two weeks, this fella will have been (basically) unemployed for 6 WONDERFUL MONTHS!!! Throw me a party! This is probably the longest I will go as a gainfully unemployed human being for at least the next 30 years. Soon it will be over. I sure have enjoyed it. I am tired of it, but I enjoyed it.

-- Illustration job is happening. Let's hope to the gods I am not in over my head with this one.

-- The weather could not be more perfect for our species right now. Spend no less than one hour a day in it and appreciating it before it becomes suffocatingly hot and all the old and obese people start keeling over and stinkin' up the joint.

Final funny thought: Speaking of obese people... Do you know what I love most about the country being so morbidly overweight? I love the TV news stories about it. But I don't love them because of the information involved, or the awareness it SHOULD be conveying...NO. No, I love the footage they always include of fat people below the shoulders just walking around a city during the course of their big ol' fat day. Pulling around their fat kids, eating their fried-ass chicken, stopping to rest every other block. Do you think there are ever obese people out there who happen to catch one of those stories, and they look up and see their gargantuan ass parading across the screen? Or worse yet: Someone calls them and says "Hey! Bill! I sure am glad I just bought this 32" plasma screen, 'cuz I just had to watch your gargantuan ass parade across my screen!" Don't these folks have enough self-esteem issues as it is without some schmuck on CNBC twisting the knife? And sometimes, when they want us overly-thin people to have a REAL good laugh, they run the footage in slow motion behind the statistics! Rock on!!!
I don't know what's getting fatter these days, Us or the lump of cholesterol, sugars, and water between our ears...

Thursday, April 14, 2005

"Confused in B'ham"...

I have noticed something so strange tonight. And since I need someone to try and help me understand, I thought I would share...
Back a few months ago, when I figured I would not be coming back from Raleigh anytime soon, I decided to join the Yahoo Personals. I figured it couldn't hurt and it might be a good way to meet some new people (specifically, new women). As it turns out, I never had the money to want to try and date (or even stay joined to the damn thing), so all that came out of the responses I got was some emails and one IM buddy. And now that I think about it, she's probably wondering what the living hell happened to me...Oops.
Anywooooo, I haven't gone back to the Yahoo Personals since I came home. So tonight, after I did my final email check for the evening, I decided I would update my profile. After all, no point in getting messages from women 586 miles away! The first step in the process was to clean out the profiles I had saved from the potentials in Raleigh. Easy enough. Delete is a handy function. Next, I updated my bio. Again, easy. Just had to fix the town and some details in my "oh so catchy" paragraph. By the by, I HAVE to get some new pics. Sister Mary Francis, I am ANTI-photogenic!!!
At any rate, my final step was to do a match search just for the hell of it to see who came up in Birmigham. Again, it never hurts to meet new people. You just have to use "internet caution". It was during this step that I noticed it...
At first, it was subtle, almost unnoticeable as you are trudging through profile after profile...But I caught it.
The picture of a woman I had JUST erased from Raleigh, NC. And lo and behold, miracle of miracles!...
She's living in Birmingham now.
I chalked it up to my swiss cheese brain, and moved on. But then, I started noticing other strange things: Every profile of women that had only one, often pixelated, photo on her bio also had the exact same bio!
What?
Yes, the same bio. With only very subtle differences, to make sure it matched the pixelated photograph. The eyes would change, the hair...But the height, the age, the body type, the occupation, the fact that they were a "flirt" and a "sports nut", it was all coming up over and over and over again. Except for the "oh so catchy" paragraph. Every time, it changed into a different five sentence paragraph that was unbeleivably generic. I mean, you could literally taste the demographic personality they were trying to reach. "I love anything outdoors". "I am spontaneous and easy to get along with". JEEEEEEEEEZ. There was actually one poor women whose photo was used THREE times with THREE different forged profiles. Even stranger with her, they did take the time to change ALL of her information in the profile. BUT THEY LEFT THE SAME SHITTY PICTURE!!!
So here is what I have to know, here is what makes NO SENSE to me: WHAT DOES YAHOO HAVE TO GAIN BY MAKING UP PROFILES?!
What if someone tries to get in contact with one of these ghosts? Why is Yahoo making up people?!!!!
Best I can figure is, if you see one of these profiles and say to yourself, "WOWSA! That's a hot one!" (Because all of the ghost profiles are "girl next door" attractive), it's probably going to incite you to join so that you can email them and what not. (Of course, anyone who is even remotely savvy can get around joining and still get emails and IM addresses. Hell, I did, and I ain't savvy...) Then, from the way I understood Yahoo's "Try Personals free for 7 days" campaign that I got ungodly amounts of email about, once you're joined, they CONTINUE to take the monthly fee directly and automatically out of your account unless you say otherwise. Then, if you don't get a response from the ghost, what can you do? NOTHING! The ghost profile simply "chose" not to respond to you!
YAAAAAAAAAHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!
The bastards. Why does everyone have to be such money-hungry, opportunistic, manipulative bastards? Some of these people are using this service because they have nowhere near the confindence or the social where-with-all to meet new people in the real world. Some of them are just honestly, desperately seeking a loving, connected relationship. I mean, I understand humans have been turning a profit with the passions of other humans for centuries, but...
Is this just me? Am I the only one that is bothered by this? Please let me know!
Fake People! Yahoo Personals is made of Fake Peeeeoooooooppppplllleeee!

Tuesday, April 12, 2005

My cat's breath smells like cat food.

I am tired but antsy, so I figured I could get a word or two out for the poop of it.
Today was a beautiful day here.
It wasn't too hot.
It wasn't too cold.
The sun, it stayed shining.
While a breeze lapped and rolled.
All the trees are now painted in that green made for spring.
And the clouds were just drifting...
Like they don't mean a thing.

I got to have lunch with two of my favorite women in the whole wide world today, Alicia and Jazzy. Granted, all the women in my life are my favorites, but I haven't seen these two since Christmas. And it was grand. If you read this, thanks for a wonderful afternoon you two. I missed you!
I would love to work with them again. And it certainly has been put in front of me...
But, hell. That isn't right is it? How back-asswards would that be? Too much for my tender psyche?

Woe to those that return to the womb!
Whose eyes see first light and recoil too soon.
In the darkness lives comfort and the same upon same,
And to step only backwards is both fearful and lame!

Depending, of course, on how badly one needs a frakkin' paycheck.
Shit.

I did get an illustration job today, though. At least, I guess I did. The person was great, but she was a little disorganized about the whole thing. Hell, it's still really just a proposal, so if it happens, it will be over the next few months. Sigh...
At any rate, it's always nice to have a good interview with someone. She hardly had to look at what I brought to say she wanted me for this, but I personally think it had alot to do with my knowledge of comic books, which she needs to make this campaign work. Let's just say it involves Vulcan and crimefighting in the Greater Metro area. And this is just a re-branding campaign! Weird. Whatever. Still gonna have to get a job in the meantime.
But WHAT?!
Sidewalk Inspector?
Skydiving Claims Adjustor?
MooCow Farmer?
Tree Hugger?
Cat Puncher?
Packet of Kool-Aid?
Super-Fast Light Bulb Replacer guy?
Playboy Priest? (Hetero)
DJ PriestBoy Play?
Lichen Licker?
List Engineer in charge of wholly unnecessary lists?
POPE?! That looks easy.
Wait...
Escort? Perhaps, why not?
Money's good, and I already feel like a tool most of the time anyway...
And all my lady friends...
You get first dibs.

Sweeeeeet. L.Slim gonna rock yo' world.

Geez. I better try and go to sleep...

Monday, April 11, 2005

Belated entry. But still potent...

Upon returning home, there were of course numerous individual reunions of which I was called upon to be a part of. Although it has only been a few months, it's always nice to know you're in a place where you're loved. But I digress...
One of these joyous occasions happened early last week when I met my friend Clay and my friend Jeff at one of our favorite local dives (Gods bless the Plaza), for a few rounds of pool and multiple excursions into the Jeapordy category of "Potent Potables". Eventually, Jeff was forced to retire for the evening, but Clay and myself had a little short of NOTHING to do the next day, so there we remained. Sitting at the bar... catching up, chatting it up, and continuing to partake in several more rounds of the Devil's Ambrosia...until 2 a.m. By the by, I have come to the realization that the term "rounds", while it obviously refers to a circle of friends sharing drinks, may also have a direct connection to the fact that one's head begins to spin after a certain amount of time partaking...Once again, I digress.
As our conversations under these conditions often do, Clay and I began to approach the realm of "waxing existential", covering weightier, more emotionally charged topics. At one point, we spoke of his wonderful, now departed, mother, and in the course of this came an inspiring phrase which I will share momentarily. We were discussing a quote that his mother lived by, one she had written on an average sticky note and left hanging on the inside of the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. That quote stayed in the bathroom even after Clay left the house, and every time I opened that cabinet thereafter, I got to read it. When I moved, he made sure he got it, and rightly so. He felt, and I agreed, that it virtually defined her existence here and that in its simplicity should define all of our lives on some level. Now, embarrasingly enough, it has been an ungodly number of months and days since I have read it directly, but I believe it said: "I virtually sizzle with enthusiasm at all the things I have to today". It doesn't get much more upbeat. It not only acknowledges that every day of life contains things that must be done, things we probably don't want to do but have to, but the language of this mantra implores one to SIZZLE with enthusiasm over it. Bottom line: Every moment of waking life is something to be thankful for, no matter how shitty it may be judged by our minds.
At the end of this, Clay said to me, "It just reminds me every time I read it of how much she struggled to live life..."
And there it is.
Another simple statement that should define the fulfillment of existence: STRUGGLE TO LIVE LIFE.
Any life that is truly worth living MUST be a struggle. It must contain hardship, and tests, and inconvienences and every other unimaginable form of the unknown conceivable. This phrase doesn't require the enthusiasm (use it if you got it, though (Rebecca and Elizabeth)), all it asks for is the effort. STRUGGLE to live life, don't stand still in Bush's Bloated Bueracracy that is this country, this land of apathy and immediate gratification, and take every easy path and make every easy choice you can. Whatever you do, don't avoid life because it's a struggle, struggle to live life...because it's unavoidable.
STRUGGLE to learn.
STRUGGLE to change.
STRUGGLE to conquer fears.
STRUGGLE to affect others.
STRUGGLE to love.
STRUGGLE to live instead of making life a struggle. And be thankful for every inch conquered.
I myself have to hold on to this now as well, for I have a long way to go before I can truly live by my own words here...
But I'm trying to sizzle, if only for a few moments a day.
It's easy to remember that the first tenet of Buddhist thought is "Life is suffering." It's harder to remember that that is not all that it is.

STRUGGLE (Merriam-Webster) v.
1 : to make strenuous or violent efforts against opposition : CONTEND
2 : to proceed with difficulty or with great effort

Tuesday, April 05, 2005

No need to kill the fatted calf. Milo's will do...

It still doesn't feel completely real.
Almost as though it were a waking dream, a miasma of images and feelings of familiarity through which I am simply floating...
But a strange sense of renewed whole-ness grounds me, anchors me to the fact that it is real.
I am home.
These are my streets.
These are the paths and routes I have known and taken a thousand times before...
And yet now, as I drive them, as I walk them, they are different. They have not lost their connection to my spirit, not enough time has passed for that, but the character of their beauty has been refreshed. I am reminded why I do still love the city so. Every city is an organism, a living, breathing, pulsating creature that grows and responds according to the entities that inhabit it. I am beginning to feel its heartbeat again. It is a comfort, and yet still so strange, so distant. I am not quite in synch yet.
We were less than an hour out of these borders when the first sense of home cascaded through my senses...
The sun had just set, and for the first time in a long time I saw the silhouetted outlines of our rolling hills.
I realized how much I have missed this simple, somehow breath-taking vision. (Raleigh is a very flat landscape).
That night, I heard the trains.
I had missed the sound of trains bellowing through a still, quiet night. That one sound alone defines the simple, unseen connections I have to this organism...
To the city.
I have missed the people that I love. I have seen many of them at this point, and it will be hard to dismiss that sense of belonging from now on.
These ARE the people whom I love. And I am glad to be beside them once again.
This city is home again, for now.
I can re-intigrate, re-establish, re-connect at my leisure...
But I can also simply re-explore.

I am home.
I cherish the distant echo of a train's cry.
I stare back into the starlit sky I have known so well,
the light of Orion's belt showering the city softly on a spring evening.
I await with great anticipation the sounds of tree frogs cavorting through a balmy summer night. And the cicadas with their replacement symphonies on a balmy summer day.
I await the smell of honeysuckle and freshly mowed lawns.
I am once again surrounded by great, tree-covered hills...
and a shimmering city that sits nestled in their valleys.
I am home.
And there is still much to do.

Monday, March 28, 2005

Every Step...

Wow. 10 days. That's a long to time to go without posting...
But I've had an excuse. I've had a whole hell of alot on my mind of late, trying to figure where to go with my life next, I haven't been able to get anything out of me but some drawing. At least I have that when I can't write...
But the decison is made! the experiment is at a close. I shall return home for the moment. And by the gods, I'm gonna be Ok with that.
I make my life so hard sometimes. I guess we all do at certain moments. It's too easy to see and focus on those things that we don't have, or haven't accomplished that we put up a wall around those things that we do have or have accomplished. I could not be more guilty of that...
Paul Williams once wrote (in a wonderful book of immaculate mantras called Das Energi that I highly recommend to anyone needing inspiration): "Don't try to find yourself."
That's it.
That's the only sentence on that page.
And reading it again this time, it struck a pretty serious chord with me. I've been so concerned, so DESPERATE, to find my place, my calling, my WHATEVER, that I don't ever stop to appreciate where I am and what I have to offer in the moment. It's a curse, you know, being creative. The end results of creativity always spotlight it as something of a blessing, because you have CREATED something to share, but only the creative know how fucking hard hard it is to get to the end result. Our culture is so money-oriented, so intent on success, that the creative sect very rarely has a confidently "profitable" place in society. It's hard to see our (my) worth in that sense, and it is a constant, difficult, unrelenting struggle to follow that path. I guess I never figured it would be that hard since creativity came to me so easily...
But I have to stop trying so hard to find myself.
I have to see me as a process. A process no different than the creative process. There will be highs. There wil be lows. There will be moments of inspiration, and there will be moments of stagnation...
But the process has to continue.
As I wrote in my very first entry, it will all lead to "the end result of me".
And I HAVE to be OK with that.
And I will.
"Every step made prevents you from standing still."
I made that up. At least, I feel pretty confident I did.
Now I just need to be confident in my belief of it.

I am going home.
And that is OK.

Wednesday, March 16, 2005

Only in four words...

It's pretty late here.
I'm very tired now.
Week's been good, though.
Well, sort of has.
Car is broken AGAIN.
Friends are good here.
I miss MY friends.
There are options HERE.
There are options THERE.
What do I do?
Wish I could slpit.
Send one back home.
Keep one right here.
Then decide the best...
I will decide soon.
Must get up early.
Taking the car in.
Hope for inexpensive repair.
It's pretty late here.
I'm very tired now.
Not alot to say.
Needed to type something.
Only in four words...

Friday, March 11, 2005

1+1=1

When called upon to make a choice,
I oft consult an "inner voice".
Another me that waits inside,
to play out the role of foil or guide.
This me is contentious, and is inspired to argue.
But without this perspective, I lack a clear purview.
When I relish the day, he cherishes night.
When I lean to the left, his weight's on the right.
But why have this opponent? What's his purpose to life?
Why offer such counsel and, as quickly, breed strife?
To whom am I speaking when I ask "Yes or No?"
And if he's me in the first place, why didn't I know?
Every person can hear this voice from within,
For each of our heads can go into a spin...
Just seems strange that our minds, when all's said and done,
are obviously two, but regarded as one...

Saturday, March 05, 2005

The simplest of entries...

Still have lots and lots on the brain, so nothing profound to say...
But a blog is a personal responsibilty to one's self, and by gum, I'll make an entry to make an entry.

We did go to a very cool art show downtown last night. A studio full of Artists in Residence pawning off their UNBELIEVABLY overpriced pieces. But I must admit, some of it was quite impressive. Made me wish I had been willing to put up with painting courses, or even taken some sculpting courses. There was one sculptor who worked in types of marbles and sandstones and almost all of his pieces were divine explorations of the human form. So well executed. So expensive. Also in his room was an example of one of the great dangers of modern art: The Overanalysts. A gaggle of woman came in, one of whom "absolutley had to come in this room every time", and she was spouting off to her friends the psychological significance of the pieces. The artist himself asked if he could record her, because there was no way he could come up with that by himself. I left when she got into the remorse of leaving the mother's womb...
Yeah, I'm sure that's what the guy was thinking when he carved boobs into marble.
At any rate, at an average of $1100 dollars for large paintings and $3500 for most sculptures, I'm in the wrong kind of art!

I wish I were clever enough to use high art to say things about stuff.
There was free beer and wine there, too. I like beer.

But I digress...
Still lots to think about.
Still not very much time to do so.

I wish I could play poker professionally. I make so much money when the money isn't real.
'Sup with that?

Tuesday, March 01, 2005

If control is an illusion, how do airplanes fly?

March has begun.
Four straight months of unemployment...
With very little sitting on the horizon.
Apparently, we are moving to the other side of the metropolitan area at the end of this month...
The result of a three day decision-making process.

I AM trying to stay optimistic about of all of this...
Despite my Spider-Sense tingling every second that I am awake.

What SHOULD I do?
Do I simply continue to "adapt" to this situation because HERE is not THERE and THERE was providing only stagnation?
What SHOULD I do?
Do I trust that I do still have a place HERE?
I am learning a new breed of patience.
I have begun to accept that control is an illusion.
Have I learned enough to apply it anywhere if I have to? Even if I have to return home before I want to?
The circumstances HERE are going to continue to change even after the move...
Am I going to be able to live with them?
Everything fit so well in this apartment. I'm not even certain everything in my room now will fit in the new room.
I will need a comfortable room to retreat to...
Living with a couple makes one's room a sanctuary.

What SHOULD I do?
Do I still belong on this path? Or I am being shown the reasons to start again on another one? Is synchronicity forcing my hand? How many "tests" am I supposed to take in a row? How many smiles do I fake before I get to the one that's real?

Damn it. I was JUST starting to feel settled...
But really, I JUST unpacked. I JUST learned all of the streets around me. I JUST started talking to all of the neighbors...

Stiff upper lip and all that jive. Grin and bear it is the ONLY option of the moment.
The effort to be happy in the face of life's bullshit must continue.
But I still can't deny that I AM NOT a "Rainbows, dewdrops and sweet, yummy lollipops" kind of guy.
I'd still take a shot of whiskey, a smoke and a rainy night at a jazz bar before anything else!

"Que sera, sera" as they say.

Friday, February 25, 2005

Fighting for Freedom, wherever there's trouble...

Let me preface this by saying I LOVE a good mystery.
And here's tonight's:
From 12:51 to 1:09 AM tonight, my apartment buliding (and apparently most of the complex) was being being patrolled by a team of armored S.W.AT. officers carrying fully automatic weapons poised at the ready! PLUS, they had a search dog!
The seven officers did at least three circles around my building before moving on. All the while, I counted 5 (five) separate unmarked vehicles of different makes and models (all black but one, of course) patrolling the complex parking lot. I would have to assume they were establishing some kind of movable perimeter.
Isn't that comforting? There is nothing more relaxing before you go to bed at one in the morning, than to know that highly trained, armed officers are doing laps around your home!
Oops!
As I write this, they have now moved into the woods separating my apartment from the houses behind us!
GREAT!
Let's hope we hear gunfire REEEEEAAAAALLLLL soon.
Might as well take that to bed too.
What's even worse is that I have an unbelievably sick urge to go out there and yell: " I CAN SEE YOU!!! I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING!!!"

But there is always tomorrow to find some way to get shot...
Here's hoping that this is all you hear about this from me!

Sleep well, America!
-------------------------------------------------------------
Epilogue- 2:28 AM

Well, no threat to national security here. Armed robbery was committed at an ATM right outside of our complex.
Apparently, the perp ran right through our lot!
Again...How comforting.

Ride The Tingle...

Do you know what sucks most about having writer's block, or I guess any kind of creative constipation?
You never lose The Tingle while you're having it.
What is The Tingle?
The Tingle is that feeling that makes creative folks be creative. It is the addictive, endorphin-cascading response within that tells us we have something to be shared. It can start in different places for everybody. Mine is just below the sternum and above the stomach. When all is going properly, The Tingle travels from its point of origin in the body and makes its way to the brain, where it creates a conduit of creativity that runs like a generator until the idea/expression has been properly exhausted. One can still have creativity without The Tingle, mind you. At that point, it simply relinquishes the honor of being inspired creativity. But with the proper mental discipline and sheer desire, anyone can create without The Tingle and become the next, I don't know...Stephen King.
At any rate, during blockage, the feeling does not subside. It wells up within its point of origin, waiting to be released. In my case, when I try to fight the blockage and release The Tingle, I can feel it traveling, moving steadily up my spine and past my eyes...It's gonna make it to the brain!
Here it comes!
It's gonna be great!
And...FURPF!
It hits the brain wall and scatters like a fart in the wind.
It takes a moment to fully comprehend that it didn't happen, and on the way up The Tingle has left your mouth open and you're drooling ever so slighty on whatever lies below. You're left sitting like a lobotomy patient waiting for applesauce as the moment of realization fades...
The Tingle re-enters the bloodstream as a billion creative molecules and will eventually recollect itself into the familiar feeling at the point of origin, where it will try again later to reach the brain.

"Guess I'll go take that crap!", you think to yourself (Post-Tingle responses may vary).

"FURPF!" That's a funny word.

Sunday, February 20, 2005

In memorium...

HUNTER S. THOMPSON
1937-2005

He shot himself.
He KILLED HIMSELF by choice.
How does one survive that many mild-altering drugs in deadly doses,
and then CHOOSE to leave existence like that?

I will concede, I was never a massive fan...
but he was an indesputably avant-garde and significant
journalist and novelist.
He was the culmination of a strident, desperate revolution
in American pop-culture.
He was a necessity, and for that we shall thank him.

It will be impossible to forget him.
And no one of us could hope for any less from our lives.

Saturday, February 19, 2005

Breathe through it...

Everyone is trapped by fear.
But only some can fight it.
Those that do, know Life through living,
The rest hide deep inside it.

We crawl into our complacency
To abide each "dismal" day.
We convince ourselves to be comfortable,
So we'll know no other way.

We often feel Life will come to us,
But the truth is, Life won't care.
If you don't TAKE life, it can easily drown you...
And ignore your gasps for air.

So believe it or not, the key, then, is fear.
For it shows you what must be done.
And if you can face it, and are willing to TRY,
Then the battle is already won.

Everyone is trapped by fear.
But only some can fight it.
Those that do, know Life through living,
I will no longer hide deep inside it.

Thursday, February 17, 2005

I wish the Postal Service a swifter demise...

Can someone please explain the following to me:
Yesterday, I mailed off a 9x12 stamped envelope containing an application and a copy of my resume. It was correctly addressed and, obviously, included my return address. Well, today...it was returned. It was returned asking for an additional, oh, let's see...23 CENTS. Now, in order to re-mail this stupid thing, I have had to place another 37 CENT stamp on the envelope, for a total now of 74 CENTS. It does not bother me that I have had to add additional postage. Do you know what bothers me?
WHERE IN THE NAME OF OTHER PEOPLE'S GODS DID THEY GET 23 CENTS? WHAT KIND OF ARBITRARY DOUGLAS ADAMS NUMBER IS THAT? As far as I know, there is no 60 CENT stamp providing the amount I Oh So OBVIOUSLY needed on the envelope. And I certainly cannot purchase a 23 CENT stamp as the 37 CENT stamp is now the lowest denomination of
postal charges (as far as I know. Please, correct me if I'm wrong). Why in the hell am I GIVING the Post Office 14 extra cents?
IT MAKES NO SENSE!
NO PUN INTENDED!
PUNS ARE AN EXTRA 14 CENTS!!!!!
The money does not bother me as an individual. It's cents. But it should bother US as a collective. If they do this to just 10, 000 people in one day (and that is NOT a high number statistcally speaking), they have made 140,000 F*@&ing dollars. Multiply that by 300 (the approximate number of days in the year the mail runs) and they have turned a PROFIT of 42,000,000 MILLION DOLLARS!!!!! SWEET ZOMBIE CHRIST!!!!
Plus, now I get to look like a putz and send this marked up, shame-covered envelope to this company because I don't want to waste the FIRST stamp! Damn!
And finally, the icing on le cake: I sent ANOTHER 9x12 envelope with my resume AND a CD with samples of my artwork early LAST WEEK. It has not been returned! Where the hell is it?!!! Where is my resume sitting right now?!!!!
IN SOME PILE MARKED: NEEDS 14 CENTS, NO DOUBT!!!!
DAMN!
I wish the postal service a swifter demise. Onward into E-Commerce and THE WORLD OF TOMORROW!!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Epilogue (3 Hours & 2 comments Later)

Well... Apparently, I'm just a big, fat moron. I hope I am not found starved and frozen in the street because of my complete lack of applicable real-world experience and postal naivete.
And, just to defend myself further: We are talking about a grand total of 4 sheets of frakkin' paper. I can dig the one with the CD, it's "heavy". But if 37 cents won't cover 4 sheets of frakkin' paper, you can bite my shiny, metal ass.

Sunday, February 13, 2005

Cry Me a River...

You know how I love you,
I've told you so much.
I want only to hold you,
Melt under your touch.

I don't care in the morning
If you say your breath's gross.
I will always still kiss you.
Then I'll make us some toast.

You think I'm romantic,
but it's just 'cuz of you.
I can't tell you I love you,
without showing it too...

So I bought you these roses
and chocolates galore.
And this bear that says "Kiss Me!"
I'm a Valentine's whore.

They're just THINGS and you know this,
Your eyes say it best.
Our love has the meaning,
So screw all the rest.

This day is just bullshit,
But so what and who cares?
I can tell you I love you.
We could play Truth or Dare.

I will take you to dinner,
Grant a wish you want most.
In the morning I'll kiss you.
Then I'll make us some toast.

You might be a vision.
Just a dream in my head.
And someday I might lose you,
but until then, it's said...

You know how I love you,
I've told you so much.
I want only to hold you,
Melt under your touch.

---------------------------------

Happy Frickin' Valentine's.
Any of you who utter words of love on this day...
You better mean it. With all your heart.
And...
Bite my shiny metal ass.

Saturday, February 12, 2005

God Makes a Monkey Out of Us

My addendum is below this article:

GOD and EVOLUTION
By NICHOLAS D. KRISTOF

Published: February 12, 2005



An "analysis" of Democrats and Republicans from the Ladies' Home Journal in 1962 concluded: "Republicans sleep in twin beds - some even in separate rooms. That is why there are more Democrats."

That biological analysis turns out - surprise! - to have been superficial. Instead, modern science is turning up a possible reason why the religious right is flourishing and secular liberals aren't: instinct. It turns out that our DNA may predispose humans toward religious faith.

Granted, that's not very encouraging news for the secular left. Imagine if many of us are hard-wired to be religious. Imagine if, as a cosmic joke, humans have gradually evolved to leave many of us doubting evolution.

The notion of a genetic inclination toward religion is not new. Edward Wilson, the founder of the field of sociobiology, argued in the 1970's that a predisposition to religion may have had evolutionary advantages.

In recent years evidence has mounted that there may be something to this, and the evidence is explored in "The God Gene," a fascinating book published recently by Dean Hamer, a prominent American geneticist. Dr. Hamer even identifies a particular gene, VMAT2, that he says may be involved. People with one variant of that gene tend to be more spiritual, he found, and those with another variant to be less so.

There's still plenty of reason to be skeptical because Dr. Hamer's work hasn't been replicated, and much of his analysis is speculative. Moreover, any genetic predisposition isn't for becoming an evangelical, but for an openness to spirituality at a much broader level. In Alabama, it may express itself in Pentecostalism; in California, in astrology or pyramids.

Still, it's striking how faith is almost irrepressible. While I was living in China in the early 1990's, after religion had been suppressed for decades, drivers suddenly began dangling pictures of Chairman Mao from their rear-view mirrors. The word had spread that Mao's spirit could protect them from car crashes or even bring them sons and wealth. It was a miracle: ordinary Chinese had transformed the great atheist into a god.

One bit of evidence supporting a genetic basis for spirituality is that twins separated at birth tend to have similar levels of spirituality, despite their different upbringings. And identical twins, who have the same DNA, are about twice as likely to share similar levels of spirituality as fraternal twins.

It's not surprising that nature would favor genes that promote an inclination to faith. Many recent studies suggest that religious people may live longer than the less religious. A study of nearly 4,000 people in North Carolina, for example, found that frequent churchgoers had a 46 percent lower risk of dying in a six-year period than those who attended less often. Another study involving nearly 126,000 participants suggested that a 20-year-old churchgoer might live seven years longer than a similar person who does not attend religious services.

Partly that's because the religious seem to adopt healthier lifestyles - they are less likely to smoke, for example. And faith may give people strength to overcome illness - after all, if faith in placebo sugar pills works, why not faith in God?

Another possibility involves brain chemistry. Genes that promote spirituality may do so in part by stimulating chemical messengers in the brain like dopamine, which can make people optimistic and sociable - and perhaps more likely to have children. (Dopamine is very complex, but it appears linked to both spirituality and promiscuity, possibly explaining some church scandals.)

Evolutionary biologists have also suggested that an inclination to spirituality may have made ancient humans more willing to follow witch doctors or other leaders who claimed divine support. The result would have been more cohesive bands of cave men, better able to survive - and to kill off rival cave men.

Of course, none of that answers the question of whether God exists. The faithful can believe that God wired us to appreciate divinity. And atheists can argue that God may simply be a figment of our VMAT2 gene.

But what the research does suggest is that postindustrial society will not easily leave religion behind. Faith may be quiescent in many circles these days, or directed toward meditation or yoga, but it is not something that humans can easily cast off.

A propensity to faith in some form appears to be embedded within us as a profound part of human existence, as inextricable and perhaps inexplicable as the way we love and laugh.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

An interesting piece. This topic has, of course been floating around in anthropological circles for decades (starting with E.O. Wilson, as the article mentions), but it is always good to see it gaining ground in a more public forum like the NY Times. I myself tend to agree with the idea, as I, a strongly self-proclaimed agnostic/atheist (pick one), have had moments in my life where I have actually WANTED to say some kind of my prayer despite the fact that my intellect completely rejects the notion of God/gods as anything more than man's creation. I can only explain this impulse through my socio-theological upbringing, a kind of environmental stimulus response. But when you start to think about it, that response has been an active part of the human thought process for 1000's of generations now! Thousands! The human brain spends every waking second of its life trying to create order from the chaos that surrounds it, and belief in the divine, or SOMETHING bigger than us tends to easily organize a very complex universe. With that kind of organization eventually becoming second nature, civilization and social structuring are only an evolutionary heartbeat behind. At that point, when God becomes a beneficial, adaptive evolutionary response, the idea of passing that response down through a gene that benefits all of humanity (in terms of assisting in social order) doesn't seem so far-fetched.

HAIL SATAN!!!