Transitional Fossil

R.I.P. A.R.A.

2009-04-12T00:50:00.000-07:00

Ah, Bullshit!!

2009-03-13T09:16:00.000-07:00

[Before I get going, you'll notice I've cited all my sources, which are represented by the numbers in parenthesis. I welcome all comments. This is food for thought that I hope will shape consciousness and action.]

According to a recent CareerBuilder.com survey 22% of employers check Facebook in order to further qualify candidates(1). This is complete horsehockey.

"Why?? Don't employers have the right to know who they are hiring??"

NO!! They have no right to invade my privacy. And think about it, how far can you take this?? What if someone doesn't like my politics or views on religion. It runs over into discrimination and I want to get a job because I'm a hard worker, not because I act like a jackass on my own time. Seriously, haven't our rights been eroded enough to the point where we shouldn't have to put up with big business looking our shoulder.

There are so many issues involved. The first is the perception of character. We have to "look good" for everyone. It doesn't matter what's really going on. We have to hide who we are for appearances and the ridiculous idea of social acceptance. You wanna see what I mean, start telling people you are pagan in your neighborhood and workplace. As we've seen just this past January you can still be accused of witchcraft and lose your job over it(2).

Abraham Lincoln once said, "Character is like a tree and reputation like its shadow. The shadow is what we think of it; the tree is the real thing." I believe we are confusing the two. Since corporations, who have more legal protection than the citizens of this country, want to mistake the two then they need to look in the mirror. Bernard Madoff, Enron, Adelphia, John Rigas, Jack Abrahoff, have all been accused of some criminal activity whose benefit has far outweighed the punishment. So tell me how this balances someone looking at my character for a Business Analyst job??

Second, this kind of behavior also violates the Terms of Service agreement of Facebook:

'You understand that the Service and the Web site are available for your personal, non-commercial use only...Additionally, you agree not to use automated scripts to collect information from the Service or the Web site or for any other purpose. You further agree that you may not use the Service or the Web site in any unlawful manner or in any other manner that could damage, disable, overburden or impair Web site. In addition, you agree not to use the Service or the Web site to:

* impersonate any person or entity, or falsely state or otherwise misrepresent yourself or your affiliation with any person or entity; . . .
* intimidate or harass another;
* use or attempt to use another's account, service or system without authorization from the Company, or create a false identity on the Service or the Web site. (3)'

If a violation does occur how can we possibly do anything about it?? You can set your profiles to Friends Only. Control who can view your personal information. Many of you know that I don't use my real birthday online. It's a safety precaution because all of those applications we use pull birthdays. Go through the Settings tabs and limit who can see what. This also reflects what can be seen on Google should you search. There's a great article by George Lenard, see reference (3).

I find this kind of behavior repugnant. Since I began working in Colorado there has been a steady increase of corporations that run my credit. Why?? What if you have bad credit and you want to get a better job to get out of debt. Are corporations denying people the opportunity to make more money to get out of debt and thus keeping the poor at station?? Nah. That would be morally reprehensible. Corporations couldn't possibly be involved in such devious behavior because they have less laws applied to operations.

The solution would be to educate our children about how to build credit, how to be fiscally responsible, how to question everything, and how to be politically active. It is only by teaching critical thinking skills in this manner will our society be able to shape itself and raise it to a place where we are no longer the victims of corporate greed and government corruption.

George Carlin once posed the question, "Where are all the bright people of conscience??" And my answer would be that we must make them.

(1) http://www.careerbuilder.com/share/aboutus/pressreleasesdetail.aspx?id=pr459&sd=9%2f10%2f2008&ed=12%2f31%2f2008&siteid=cbpr&sc_cmp1=cb_pr459_&cbRecursionCnt=1&cbsid=94065462324342abbee1e3fa378f2bd0-290258286-R3-4

(2)http://scienceblogs.com/pharyngula/2009/01/going_back_to_our_puritan_root.php

(3) http://www.collegerecruiter.com/weblog/2006/09/employers_using.php

AllThisIsForYou

2009-01-15T15:18:00.000-08:00

This is a pretty cool painting site. I like. I share.

and also this one

Along

2008-10-24T07:20:00.003-07:00

Rolling along the highway at 5:34 in the morning. Just plain cruisin’. The soft blue arrives again and I think about the other side of life not spoken about. The one where you joke about how farting in your chair at work keeps you warm because the company is too cheap to turn on the heat.

Matters of the heart have come into focus as of late. People I know through others taking that final flight to the unseen. Songs of my youth leaping back into prominence. This cycle of death and rebirth is morphing into an oversized pendulum just outside my peripheral vision.

The car I now pay for is a 6-speed (without Reverse, Andretti). I enjoy racing people in the morning. The ride is smooth and the roads are dry. But there is little finesse in the West as people here have little concept of Move-the-Fuck-Over-Since-You-Want-to-Go-Slow.

===

All Hallows is coming and I am very excited. The girl who served me coffee stated that she dresses up like Snow White, EVERY, YEAR. Yea, my guess is she will be attending the Ninth Annual Fetish Ball this year. But that’s just a guess.

I found out my boss and I both enjoy lumpy Cream of Wheat. These are the things that are appropriate to discuss in the corporate world at this time; and at 7:35 B.C. (Before Coffee).

Missing home a lot lately. I look out my window at this foreign land that has never really felt welcoming. Although I’ve tried on several occasions. The only place that has felt familiar, in a past life sort of way, has been the desert rocks up past Morrison.

Finished my supply chain management class, praise the Flying Spaghetti Monster in all His Nooodliness. Now we move onto Business Ethics, another mythical entity. We were supposed to write a bio about ourselves and an intro about what we expected to get out of the class. I went off about the fact that I consider business ethics to be nothing more than a tool to get more money and I went into detail. In reading the responses of the other students I was disgusted by the malaise and thin pandering to-wards the teacher that was presented. There was one promising guy from Zimbabwe who presented a parable he had read about the subject.

When does this cowtowning end?? I’m not sure that it ever does. Still have it at work, unless you work for yourself. And in line with throwing out some terms, I would like to educate my fellow statesmen (for those offended see statespeople):

s/w means “spoke with” or “spoken with” or “speak with” depending on nearby word usage

f/u means “follow-up” or “following-up”

rubber necking means “a person [usually in their car] who cranes, stains or otherwise awkwardly turns their head and stares while passing the scene of something interesting (usually morbid in nature).” (ref. urbandictionary.com)

At any rate the day winds on with rumors of a foreboding bowling event this evening followed by a haunted house.

Enjoy your life.

Fly Light

2008-10-24T07:20:00.001-07:00

I dislike my life being so real sometimes. I enjoy that element of occasional escape, though it has little to do with absconding from responsibility.

It’s still dark out. Twinkling little figures and cars pass by in the blue-black. The mountains begin to grow about 7:13. It’s neat when they reveal themselves after rain. Layer by layer, their majesty rises. Their embattled faces staring back at me.

My mind returns to the chair I’m sitting. Steps which need to be taken to earn the Productive Society Member merit badge are waiting. They are simple steps. Highly repetitive, highly annoying.

Joy comes in spurts. When I’m not really expecting anything, it comes in surprising ways. The wrecking ball also swings the other way. I can remember being really happy about something and an event comes along which I allow to shatter my smile.

There’s so much drama that goes on sometimes. And I want to write about it, but since it’s usually interesting stuff about people I know, I can’t really write about it. And it’s interesting shit too. But it will have to keep for a book where I combine characters that are mildly recognizable to many, and few have inkling that it is truly them.

It’s nice though as time passes things change and remain the same. The identifying elements change with our priorities. For example, the need for approval and validation outside of my self was prevalent throughout my growing up. Finding validation from within is a powerful mechanism and I find that I travel to the outside less and less.

Finding the Right Quote at the Right Time

2008-09-29T19:05:00.000-07:00

Here’s my theory about meetings and life; the three things you can’t fake are erections, competence and creativity. That’s why meetings become toxic they put uncreative people in a situation in which they have to be something they can never be. And the more effort they put into concealing their inabilities, the more toxic the meeting becomes. One of the most common creativity-faking tactics is when someone puts their hands in prayer position and conceals their mouth while they nod at you and say, 'Mmmmmm. Interesting.' If pressed, they’ll add, 'I’ll have to get back to you on that.' Then they don’t say anything else.

-Douglas Coupland

Working Class Hero [final]

2008-09-08T04:43:00.001-07:00

A working class hero is something to be,

And you think you're so clever and classless and free,
It is an unfortunate perception that we believe we are separate from one another. That we do not affect and infect one another with ideas, words and actions. Ideas are continuously forming and changing and growing. The search for the answer is the answer. The search will always be there. An answer leads to more questions.

But you're still fucking peasants as far as I can see,

There's room at the top they are telling you still,
Can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard this. Yet the path to true success is never defined or told to anyone so that they may follow it, get ahead and achieve financial freedom (though success is measured individually). The general maxim is to just work hard and you will get ahead. I’ve watched people work until their hands bleed, involved in work they’ve done for years and they are not management, middle management, on the leadership fast track.
But that carrot placed in front of you that you can attain a higher station is always there. It makes you work harder.

But first you must learn how to smile as you kill,
You must betray and sacrifice. If you can do those two things you will rise. Be ruthless and more than practical. Make business decisions without emotion and regard.
The alternative is to work with people who share your values with business acumen and enjoy what you do, working to-wards bettering the world around you.

…

A working class hero is something to be.

Working Class Hero IV

2008-09-05T04:57:00.000-07:00

A working class hero is something to be,

Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV,
Religion: I think humans have always looked for something beyond themselves. A way to expand and embrace what they know to be the silent undercurrent of feel accompanied with existence. The problem comes in where they travel outside and impose this view on others. Not sharing, imposing.
Sex: I think we, as a society, are immature about sex. As Bill Hicks put it we have a, “puritanical hatred of our own bodies…” Chastity belts and virginity pledges. Something to compare is how our culture reacts to a naked body and how a European population would react.
We have 25-year-old men trying to date 14-year-olds. I have no idea what the answer to that one is. It’s appealing to have a younger woman, but without their ability to decide if they want to be with you or not. I guess that would be a possibility, control and lower risk of rejection. But it’s just a bit nasty and gross. We as a society attempt to explain everything and have it make sense. Which clashes with some faith. Peace be to Pat Condell.
TV: After obtaining a Bachelor of Arts Degree in Television Production I can honestly tell you this: Turn it Off. Go Outside.

A working class hero is something to be,

Suggested:

http://patcondell.net/
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christopher_Hitchens
http://www.hitchensweb.com/
http://www.religioustolerance.org
http://www.literotica.com (NSFW)
http:// www.mydamnchannel.com

Working Class Hero III

2008-09-03T11:51:00.001-07:00

A working class hero is something to be,

When they've tortured and scared you for twenty odd years,
Then they expect you to pick a career,
We don’t really have career development in this country. If I had known that I could have designed my own degree, I would have. Companies look for a track record of work in the industry even with the claim of “well-roundedness, flexibility”. There’s the need to be employed in the same type of industry for a long time in order for them to hire you. If you have a lot of experience in different areas you look…unstable.
There is no evaluation of strengths and weakness at any time during the education process. This prevents a correct application of one’s skills and joys to a vocation. The argument can be made that one must develop for themselves this very identification. Ok then what social mechanisms tell us that this is the way of things?? What encouragements are we given to discover and apply our dreams??

When you can't really function you're so full of fear,
“I can’t speak up in the meeting, I’ll be labeled a troublemaker.”
“I can’t ask for a raise, they’ll fire me.”

A working class hero is something to be,

Suggested:

http://www.onegoodmove.org/1gm

Working Class Hero II

2008-09-02T11:18:00.001-07:00

A working class hero is something to be,

They hurt you at home and they hit you at school,
They hate you if you're clever [I hate you, you’re smarter than me] and they despise a fool [I hate you, you so fucking dumb],

Till you're so fucking crazy you can't follow their rules,
“I can’t do that, something bad might happen. Can’t speak my mind I might get fired. I was told to write what I wanted, but I’m getting in-school suspension for writing about ‘bad things’….”
If you are a quick learner that is supposed to be a good thing. But if you jump around from subject to subject because you’ve already mastered them, you look fickle and unable to concentrate, focus.

A working class hero is something to be,

Working Class Hero I

2008-08-28T08:33:00.000-07:00

As soon as your born they make you feel small,
“Look at you!! You gotta small dick!!”
“You’re stupid”
“You’re worthless”
“Fuckin’ crybaby”

By giving you no time instead of it all,
“These parents that enroll you in college before you even know which side of the playpen smells the worst” –George Carlin

Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all,
One withdraws into an art or self-mutilation or music. Or reacts, rebels or produces acts of violence. Teaching conflict-resolution, having peer-counseling and identifying coping mechanisms early on would illuminate other channels of expression. Centering our upbringing on the mechanisms we have now isn’t really working. Teaching responsibility and basic manners would go a long way in the long-term. But the view isn’t looking long-term. The creation and stabilization of the worker class is paramount to continuing the system we have in place now. Innovation makes a more flexible economy, but we need the working class, basic labor to ensure a continuous stream of revenue.

Suggested reading:
1984 by George Orwell
Website: http://www.crimethinc.com

A working class hero is something to be,

Freemasonry

2008-08-22T10:38:00.001-07:00

I became a Freemason over seven years ago. Becoming a Mason, I thought, would bring me to a more moral and spiritual place in life. I did research about people who were Masons, the anti-Masonic movement of the 1830’s, the conspiracy theories, the Morgan Affair, the scandal with the Vatican, the Papal Bull, the Knights Templar, concordant (related) bodies (the Eastern Star, Job’s Daughters, the Triangles, Tall Cedars, The Scottish Rite, The York Rite, The Shrine, etc.) and even the symbolism on the one dollar bill.

The one thing I left alone was the ritual. To me it was simply not mine. Not yet. It was out there and readily available. After my initiation I was able to which ritual I was reading, what version, and from where it originated. It was fascinating to read. Such a breadth of the work with complex psychological impacts, symbols and metaphor I had yet encountered.

Shortly after I completed my research I sought out a lodge. After a few false starts I met with the Master of a lodge about thirty minutes from where I was living. The Master is the one who presides over the work of the lodge. I chose that one specifically because it was in the community I had grown up in and I wanted to give back.

The conversation with the Master lasted about an hour. We touched on my personal beliefs and I inquired as to what was expected of a Freemason. I enjoyed the rich history and trappings of Freemasonry. There is so much there to see and explore. It was like being given access to a library of lost knowledge.

Next came my initiation and subsequent degrees. They were intense. Anyone who has gone through something of this nature knows that an “opening of the head” takes place. The symbols and the meanings took hold and pushed against the conceptions of my reality. It was a wonderful and scary process. If you are like me and have plans to make a foray into occult studies I would recommend going through the process of becoming a Mason. Many other traditions (Wicca, the Golden Dawn) have partaken from the rich structure and symbolism provided by the Sons of Light.

Settling into my new surroundings I began to learn. The history and development of the Freemasons, both theoretical and factual, were made available. I began to memorize the entire ritual word-for-word. This body of word is upwards of about 15,000 words. I embraced my role in a society with secrets, a world that ticked apart from everything. I travelled other lodges, each with their own signature on how they operated, listened to lectures and spoke at length with learned men.

My first obstacle I encountered my ageism. Even though we were told that all were equal it became clear that the guys who had been in the fraternity of fellows longer we there to stifle the new guys. Very few were encouraging, though those that were shone like diamonds. Understand that the mean age of Masons in New York is 72. They are a dying breed who are eating their young in an attempt to stay alive. They are very set in their ways and although they are trying to adapt to our brave new world, they rarely take in the views of those they are trying to reach.
There were other obstacles, however I hesitate to mention other undercurrents I encountered as it would reflect negatively on all Masons and that would not be just. For that reason I will keep my tongue.

On the positive side I have seen so many random and deliberate acts of charity on the part of Freemasons. They are kind, giving, loyal and generous with their time and ears. They are always willing to help those both with and without aprons simply because it is the right thing to do. I have many fond memories of people whose simple way could only be described as good and decent. Whether it was going to visit a brother who was homebound, bagging food for needy families or fixing up a women’s shelter; all of it was done with a glad heart and without usual press notification.

As I continued on my path, I joined the York and Scottish Rites and went on to discover many other wondrous things. Though admittedly in America Masonry is a bit watered-down, the ritual continues to provide education and inspiration in the mechanisms of things. I was glad to have experienced it.

As of now I am inactive. I still pay dues to my Blue Lodge in New York. I have separated from my Valley and my Royal Arch chapter. I remain a scholar and hermit. Many interesting books have come my way in the past five years, but nothing has enticed me to return. The Freemasons, I feel, have lost their way. They have become complacent in their ritual and their lives as to believe that the Temple is completed once again.

Yet, it has not.

But this is one man’s opinion. One man, in a membership of two million. Some day our ways may be extinct, yet our values and landmarks can be found in nature and will continue. All must yield to the passage of time. As Omar Khayyam once wrote, ‘The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,/Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit/Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line/ Nor all your Teas wash out a Word of it.’

2008-05-30T17:55:00.000-07:00

Large white ghost, slumped
Over a large white chair
My footsteps
Keeping me company
Wanting and waiting

Resting against consequence
Nodding off
Imitation my guide

Twirling with swords and silk
Roping off the known
Forgetting what I struggle to remember
The proposed painful
Alleged Destroyer, Love

I shall defy you
I will deny you
As I have been denied.

The Great Teacher, victimization
Mirrors, lined with thunder
Witnessing marred faces
Cracked sneers
Squinting for forgotten reflections
It doesn't matter how much you want to learn
Few get left behind.

The true master is a servant.

Playlist

Gone Fishin' by Louis Armstrong with Bing Crosby
I See A Darkness by Johnny Cash
Long Line of Cars by Cake
Jolene by Cake
Overcome by Live

Thank You, Saint Jude

2008-05-06T21:41:00.000-07:00

Monday

2008-03-17T11:28:00.000-07:00

Is it too much to wish for?? To be back in a darkened attic room laced with white christmas lights. I would not be so low, slipping and sipping with mellow, expectation-free tongue some beverage encouraging fairy flight.

Is it too much to ask for small smiles and laughter, whether gentle or rancorous being absorbed into the soft
wood walls. Echoes of voices lost in the beyond of the ceiling. Is it too much to wonder about touching the
moonlight lounging in the window, without lifting a whishper??

Is it too much to hope that lost friends, wander without reason into the room in search of smiles, warmth and hugs??
Final figments of conversation terminated years ago renew themselves as flowers do after the monsoon. Tales regale
the moments of our lives, sad and true. Fuck-ups who became stellar parents. Reaching those stars we were all told
about. Abortion and amputation, triumph and exploding joy. All squeezing from us tears ignoring the silent drummer boy taking cues from the ox and lamb.
There's not too much to ask, sipping coffee, looking out at the wall of white carrying weather. A warm breeze precursor parting the shroud of a day
trying to decide what's really important. The day finally making up its mind regardless of what others think and never in a hurry. Sipping on surgary syrup swirling tastebuds.

Closing my eyes I dream in the day of that place, of trust and safety, setting my worries on the backs of dragons, my doubts in bottles adrift,
my doubts in the clutches of griffin's claws. I draw a slow breath, though four are recommended.

...

2008-01-27T22:16:00.001-08:00

Playlist
"Maybe Not" Cat Power
"Love You Madly" Cake
"Don't Marry Her, Fuck Me" Stargate
"Love Is Strong" Rolling Stones
"Landslide" Fleetwood Mac
"Sorta Fairytale" Tori Amos
"Sometimes Love Just Ain't Enough" Patty Smyth & Don Henley
"To Wish Impossible Things" The Cure
"If You Could Only See" Tonic
"Faith" by Limp Bizkit
"Long Drag Off A Cigarette" Leonard Cohen cover
"Blood and Roses" The Smithereens
"Rivers of Belief" Enigma
"Solitary Man" by Johnny Cash
"Dancing with Myself" by Billy Idol

Splinters from Shooting Arrows

2008-01-08T11:51:00.000-08:00

This coffee tastes like it was brewed from raisins. Blech!! The mountains are calling from a distance. Mirroring such a distance is a task I will attempt to accomplish with this scribbling.

Reading an article about the possible origins of accelerated pubescence in human females some weeks back, the inevitable innuendo of hormones in meat and milk came trotting along. Spelunking along the various countryside of theory and research was all well and good. Evidence suggesting obesity was the cause of accelerated sexual development was presented. Other causes escape me due to the earliness of the hour. The only failing in the article as far as I could tell was the underlying preoccupation with the onset of adolescence. I don't care at what age my daughter develops unless it impacts me in some fashion.

Having said that I can hear the chortling of the puritan masses, warbling about sex before marriage and the need to protect our young from....from....something evil. What it really comes down to is fear. There is actually more than one fear here.

The first is the fear that parents will have to conduct sexually-dominated conversations YEARS before they would normally do so. Oh CRAP!! Yes, the parents who had thought that they could be their child's friend must now use the "v" and "p" words somewhen between the ages of 11 and 13, although it may be 8. We are immature about our sexuality in this country and it's amusing, but sad; because we fail our kids by not having the courage to take on these topics.

The second fear is the fear of aging. In my warped opinion the reason Brittney Spears' most recent performance was not well receive was because she didn't look seventeen anymore. Reviews held more about her appearance than her actually singing ability and the exclusivity of the word “lackluster”. This would indicate that there are other contributing factors besides her vacuum of talent. The area I will avoid at this point is the woman dressing younger and younger because that's what guys go for until you end up with a 60-year-old in windpants and a Roo cap.

This may sound paradoxical to my previous paragraph about empowering girls with medical and moral knowledge however it's now. The connection is that the lack of parental participation leaves young women with self-image concerns that are filled by the media and even their peers. On the opposite end of that spectrum is slow erosion of women's identity by people who say, "But she's only 19, she can't make that decision." Kids, if she can go to war and vote and be placed in an adult jail, guess what?? She's an adult. I have heard this saying applied to woman as old as 24. When someone's child is caught in a bad situation where they exercised poor judgment, rationalization strolls in to assuage the ego, calm the conscience and relieve woman of their sovereignty. Or when a woman becomes emotionally upset I hear people say, "Well she was all emotional, she can't make good decisions." So when a man is all emotional he can't make a bad decision?? Maybe if you take that gun/knife/pitchfork/hand-grenade away from him.

It's absolutely ridiculous how society dissolves a woman's identity because of age and emotional disposition by making these types of behavioral excuses. If women want equal rights they should demand by owning up to everything they do. They should receive no more leniency or exception for their disposition than a man does in the name of equal rights....right??

Or does the fact that we have different genetic pre-dispositions and psychological schemas make it impossible to have equal rights in the first place?? Save that for the next Rambo movie due out this month. I will be taking my grandmother, her four sisters, my aunt, two female cousins and my step-mother who all are, quite strangely and erroneously, on the same cycle if you know what I mean.

Purposefully I have left the war on Christmas out of my New Year's resolutions. I've placed it neatly behind The War Against Terror (TWAT), The War on Drugs (TWOD), The War on Guns (TWOG), The War on Waste (TWOW), and The War on Katie Couric (TWOKC) [that one's mine].

In case of all of your previous life ambitions, goals, errands and needs have been fulfilled the reason I hate Katie Couric is that she is SO disingenuous. When her husband died of colon cancer she had a colonoscopy done LIVE on television. Most recently she slapped a co-worker out of frustration and anger. How the hell she got into a prime time slot is beyond me. I make no derogatory remarks about her sloppy, unprofessional, vapid so-called journalism nor will I lash out at her graham cracker, cookie cutter two-dimensional personality complete with a full-set of matching dental caps facilitating a permagrin to rival Vanna White. I will not stoop to such behavior.

This brings me to another point. How can you perform oral sex if you are smiling all the time? Obviously Vanna and Katie did NOT ascend to their respective lofty positions through fellanthropic means. Although, oddly enough one of them does have a midriff that Brittney did four years ago. Rumors have circulated that Katie ALLEGEDLY has a hatch in her jaw which allows for this, but reports are unconfirmed at this time. Kids, make sure you use the "a" word whenever referring to a public figure as the social function known as parody is in the end stages of George Bush Disease, also known as Cancer of the Rectum.

The more I read the less I like. Getting through the Voudon Gnostic Workbook will take some time. I read the Sunday New York Times, AlterNet, OneGoodMove, CNN, the occasional issue of AdBusters and Bizarre Magazine. Juxtapoz! Mag is good for art. StumbleUpon is good for everything. The world seems so far ahead of me in terms of knowledge and experience. It would've been nice to see the perspective that I have now as a career filmstrip in Home Ec class in 8th grade.

Slide 1: It's Not What You Know, It's Who You Know.
Truth: people are hired more by who they know than what they know. So get close to that bully who steals your lunch money and the nerd who sits in the front. They may one day be sitting across the hiring desk from you. Also get to know the ugly girls. They give it up easily in high school and they may blossom later on, which would be a bonus.

Slide 2: Whatever You Want to Do, Forget It.
Did you know that by the time you finish watching this film strip you will have changed your career path 87 times!! It's true!! So when you go to college, major in English. More English majors get hired to do unrelated work that pays 3 times the national average than any other major (besides Biochemical Engineering and Accounting). Save the concentration for your Masters because by the time you get to college your degree won't be worth spit. Speaking of spit, did I mention the ugly girls??
These days certifications are the way to go. Based on the theory that continuous certification provides an every expanding and competitive skill set, you can get certified in Project Management, Six Sigma quality, or Fries and Lego’s.
Also don't worry about all the loans, just keep going to school. Stop going when you die. You will have acquired a debt equivalent to the Gross National Product of Belgium and they won't be able to collect because, well, you'll be dead.

Slide 3: Like Cheerleaders, It's Going To Suck
People, cheerleading is not a sport. So when you are sitting with your guidance counselor and/or parents and they tell you how wonderful the experience will be - don't believe them. This goes double for sitting with a priest in a darkened room. All the Rah-Rah-Rahing in the world will not prepare you for the unbridled childishness of the Corporate world. Professionalism does not exist in the world. It's a facade and a lie. If you want to effectively communicate with people of all ages in all settings pretend you never left High School. Seriously, that is average maturity level for people ages 15 to 99.

Now if you found any of the above to be offensive in a sexist kind of way, thank you for paying attention. If you are so hopping mad right now that you want to send me a piece of your mind, no thank you, I have plenty of fruitcake from the holidays. Also you skipped the part about parody, please review.

Thinking in language is a mechanism I think most people overlook when speaking. We say many, many phrases which have no intrinsic value or meaning. That’s what I noticed about going abroad the language is shorter and more direct. Upon first hearing it I mistook the patterns for being rude. My academic advisor who is Korean and been in the U.S. for over twenty years refers to English as a very “quiet” language. Words like, “please” and “thank you” have only meaning when meant, however have fallen by the wayside and necessary, not purposeful.

The only reason I bring it up was that I inadvertently participated in conversations with a group of Intelligentsia and as such my vocab score shot up 300 points. You have to keep up on these things whilst simultaneously building one’s street cred. You must be all things to all people and be able to relate to them on every level. But not above the high school level as was previously mentioned.

Even the Intelligentsia have their limits. They strayed into a weighted discussion about whether to give their friend a ride to the gathering based upon her level of attractiveness. Upon her arrival and not being introduced, my judgment was that she wasn’t worth the trip. Although there was some debate about the effect of time, leveraged by the consumption of resources involved in picking her up. In the end, human decision-making mostly comes down to a cost-benefits ratio. The only economic formula related to existence, one ever needs.

Ah, the chosen machinations of existence. The practice of mourning someone who is still alive is a rare thing these days. My friend Liz, who I thought about recently, is one of those. In the formative years she was a dear friend. Straight-forward, simple humor, gentle spirit is my recollection of her. These words do not encompass her compassion nor her large smile at a moment’s notice. She lost her mind because she did not guard it from others. The last I heard of her she’d gone over the deep end and lucidity was completely an option. I do not mourn her constantly, only at times, reflecting on people giving too much of themselves.

My friend Xine Turner once read a magnificent poem entitled, “Mind Fuck”. She spoke with almost adoration at the way she’d been messed with during a specific relationship. It was if she respected the overt threatening and subtle manipulation she experienced. So much so that she wanted to construct an ode to it. Through the haze of history, my own faded memory it was an impressive delivery, made upon a concrete slab during the excitement and confusion of college orientation.

In trying to cross a great distance poorly prepared for literary peril I have become estranged from the very point I was seeking and by delusion, lusting after. Much like a horse who has realized he’s run out of road I stop abruptly and look to-wards my rear for a better route.

Enjoy the view.

Playlist:

“California Love” by 2Pac featuring Dr. Dre
“Solitary Man” by Johnny Cash
“Chaiyya Chaiyya” by Sapna Awasti
“Which Side are You On” by The Dropkick Murphy’s
“Needs” by Collective Soul
“Mother” by Pink Floyd
“Voodoo Child (Slight Return)” Jimi Hendrix

Eye Rub

2007-12-16T21:28:00.000-08:00

Sitting down to something that used to be an everydsay thing for me but for some reason is not. The cycle of my gift an empty, scary house. No lack of love but perhaps lack of passion and decisiveness about what i want to do. This is my spectre. This is my demon. My phantom alluding. Residing the periphery of my life vision.

The day is an airport of people. Stories and wishes, desires and dreams unspoken. Just a passing face. Mr. Powell, it didn't turn out the way I thought. I hope your daughter is well. Thanks for walking me to where i thought i wanted to be.

Truth's terms are never easy. Perception clouds the steps to-wards what i think i want. Nudging away voluminous landslides and positioned lampshades of what-if's is somewhat refreshing. The middle of winter i have engaged in spring cleaning. My books and personal baggage just shuffling out the door out of need and stale habit. Goddamn, the cold creek of unexcercised muscle povides a stiff pain to the warmth of continued movement.

These words seem hollow and nudging flow and joy. Exhaling to that word - joy. Pausing to realize its meaning. Reflecting and accepting its entrance into my life, though unaccustomed.

Shedding is prudent at this time. Stripping away the old and come into the new. My spiritual path has been moving away from the tangible toys which I clung to as a neophyte. Slow, the projected progression as i am sure i have mentioned many times before is to embrace the intangible.

To this end the connecting with the land, watching the sun rise early, expressing admiration and thankfulness for all that I have been given.

The words flow so smoothly in all forms of altered states. Whilst the ignorance of those who think a car has to be repainted because of a ding keep their place where it's supposed to be. Again I was told....told that cunning does not equal intelligence. I remain at one end fo the balance at this point. I have no wish to cheat my destiny but to do the wrong thing that takes a little longer and disappoint the expectation.

Ethics associated with stealing play ping pong against the steal trap of my conscience, flickering shadows of self-imposed punishment. I am the merchant of human suffering. Listening to tales of alluded incest and people bearing false witness on behalf of a bruise ego. A mistaken masturbation and contemplating the cutting of others. Pissing in the sink and the deliberate delusion of monetary disciples. This is my place yet, the robes beholden to such an office are not always recognized. My gods are the guardians of the Door and the crossroads. Yet, despite this clear direction I still do not understand and resign myself to the the Witness and the Observer. It is not sad, it is not vendictive. It just is.

Dancing candle and cable-modem light excite my alcohol soaked brain into thinking that the world has finally decided to match my brain's pace and the attainment factor's level of importance, accomplisment. God I feel ravinous for axccomplishment and impotent of a simple spitball. These are a few of my favorite things.

Playlist:

I'm a Man by Bo Diddley
Serenity by Godsmack
Under Heaven's Skies by Collective Soul
Sweet Mary by The Bereznack Brother's Band (3B)
Let It Be by The Beatles
A Sorta Fairytale by Tori Amos
Hey Jupiter by Tori Amos

En Absentia

2007-12-05T06:26:00.000-08:00

"Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend." -Albert Camus

At least once a day, get up and walk. Explain nothing. Let your entire surroundings become alien and foreign. The removal of remembrance, discard attachment to anything within sight. Gaze upon each for the first time or the semblance of such. In observance I was granted a sense of something bigger than myself. Something moving and voice far off with a desire to act conjoined in decisiveness beyond my immediate selfishness.

Drinking the dark coffee, limits obscured. Longing that such darkness was the dirt along a pre-dawn hike. Everything seems to be defined by motion, direction and inertia. The perceived need is a trace, trade and track of Buddhist of detachment, though it is not my nature.

Three days ago:

Resting against my high-backed chair, I feel more brutal than in past moments
my shirt is sleek and defines my arms as reaching weapons. Staring out the window I see the swaying crane, building a nest of commerce.

In these darkened moments of reflection, looking beyond this semblance of humanism to reach for the desired stoic posture. The fine line between the breaths of the realm. The restless movements and thunderclaps and being a slave to any cue which flaps against the head. Wisdom helps distinguish.

I tilt my head down and rest my hand against my jaw in readiness.

Spulunking

2007-11-27T23:09:00.000-08:00

Went to the laundromat assuming i was going to confess my soul at
some point. But the call never came. What secrets could I, a measly
human have to confess?? Not much I suppose. However, a man must keep
somethings secret. That only he may carry the burden for. A woman has the same right as any being.
Swallowing my last bit of Chinese I went into the other room. The moon, I noticed, had been shrinking on its own without any help.
Talking to the man who had the flesh of his arm cut away has been a slow and interesting process this far. For a few more days, I shall have his ear and truth is his currency.
Give and take is all we have in the world. We want absolutes. I want absolutes but my life is admittedly grey. Too much grey perhaps to suite a palate of plethora.
To-morrow I interview for something better and test my way through something tougher. A friend told me that turnabout is fair play. So when you nick some one's car while parking or hurt some one's feelings over and over without caring and do it over and over, it is only fair that you receive the same.
For years I have been doing that to people. I give them the same medicine they have given to me. They don't enjoy the experience and spit vehemently all over the floor. Henry Rollins once asked, "How come when you give people some of their own shit it tastes so foreign to them??" I think it's important to consider what we ask of others, how we ask and how we treat them. Introspection goes a long way.
For the next few days I am conducting an experiment in healing. My heart has earned it. I am doing so-so thus far. Perhaps I will do better to-morrow.

One May Say...

2007-11-20T05:40:00.000-08:00

I was thinking of ways to subjugate the Devil this morning and instead of postulating about all the possibilities such as ignoring, confrontation, etc. I decided to just ramble about the nature of the archetype.

Several years ago I undertook a study to define the new evil in our world. It was a request to my readers about what they thought was truly evil on this plane of ours. I received some predicable responses dealing with kiddie porn, Teletubbies, and Osama Bin Laden. I, myself believe that Katie Couric is the Devil, but that's a whole other website.

A peripheral question to the evil one (pun-free statement) is the ancient pondering, "is there no truth in beauty??" For many believe that what is evil cannot look pretty. I believe this is erroneous.

I am not superstitious at a great length, but somewhat. For me, the Devil is anything which is opposite of your Will. And while you can get the Devil and his cadre to do contract work, they are a little unreliable in the long-term arena. Recognizing the devils in my life takes time. I have demons but they are less than something which acts as a constant headwind to hinder me.

My constraints are few and yet I look for the underpinnings of many things in order to understand the nature of them. A step in this direction is to ask why one does things in life. The reason.

I hear the steps of morning approach, ever so silently. I dressed and left by wind. And must do so now.

Birds

2007-10-07T22:45:00.000-07:00

I was itching my knuckles Friday, pondering the symbolism was. When my left palm itches, I come into money. Knuckles I was guessing was a fight.

Sitting here with scraped knees, raw arms and a jambed pinky from wrestling with my friend in the Army I can now look back and say, "yea, i was right" for once.

Walking home yesterday afternoon he confronted a guy wearing camo. He asked him why he wore it if he didn't serve. The guy talked about colors. My friend asked him why he didn't do something with those colors like join up. He got in his face and told him that he earn the scars on his face, that he watched his friends blow up and die in front of him. That those are real colors.

The guy took off his shirt.

Another member of his posse started talking shit, flashing gang signs and walking away fast. My friend followed him three blocks. There were seven of them and four of us. In the midst of it, one of their number turned to me and asked, "So how's ya'll's day goin'??"

Finally he caught up with the guy. The guy picked up a chunk of cement and got it smacked out of his hand. Then he picked up a chair from a nearby patio and was gonna throw it. My friend smacked and broke his glasses off his face. It spilled out into traffic. My other friend stopped traffic.

I'm not a fighter and don't find myself in this position often. The other night thoughts of how much of a pussy I feel like and what my dad thinks of me. My brother is the fighter. I've never seen much merit in it. Only a few times have I felt the need. I worried that my woman doesn't think I can protect her. Being so close to it, I didn't know how it was going to come out. Cops, bail, stitches. Eventually the guy ran away.

Going home to make soap. "With enough soap, we can blow up just about anything."

On the way over here I saw a weird rock. It looked like one rock was growing out of another. I was going to watch the whole process, but that would've taken forever.

Platonic Rearing

2007-10-03T11:14:00.001-07:00

The tips of the fingers of the guy in the car next to me are numb from picking nose hair. A trimmer for christmas is in order, Bob.

I had a pleasant morning, rifling through the dystopia of tupperware. So many misshapen lids, so little light in the fall morning to see them. keep thinking
i am taking some sort of universal matchup test.

Meeting other people's in-laws, and then mine own. things to look forward to for this coming purple October. Other things include making my own beer, finals, paperwork and Halloween AND Dia de Los Muertos. But more on that later, film at 11.

I have planned the next three weeks to be void of thought and action and as a companion money. My world has other plans as my Maganerial Accounting class and Concepts in Change Management class wind down. But they are really winding up to hit me in the head with an inside knuckle ball. Some people make mountains out of mole hills, some have mole hills thrust upon them.

When talking shit, the last word is very important. The final zinger should, in lew of a continuance, be like a verbal parting gift. Something cheap, you don't want back.
Most of the time though I am a bowling ball in conversation. Subtlety is not an option. I strike or miss, or end up in the gutter with my mind and words.

Someone asked me how I can just talk to all different kinds of people. I erroneously identified Maslow's Heirarchy of Needs as a way to accomplish this. People are people. They want, they wish, they fear, they feel. Even Katie Couric does. Well, maybe not.

At any rate, thanks for watching.

[it's a double entondre, but not really. See, you are reading it so your first instinct is to say, "Well, he's just joking and crazy." Already knowing this you might look deeper into it and say that you are looking at the words on a screen. You are watching the screen for the words to appear. The difference between "watch", "look" and "read" is objectification, recognition and comprehension. Can you tell I'm back in school?? ]

Just Laugh. Breathe too. But laugh.

2007-08-25T15:40:00.000-07:00

Satruday was a delicious brand of incredible sex and sleeping. I can only wish such weekends to be extended indefinitely. I left for the library to sketch out some ideas for Monday's proposal.

People tell me that I live in a bad neighborhood. That there are drug deals and prostitutes but a step from my door. Yea, yea, I've lived in worse neighborhoods in Jiveland.

Yet as the above picture references, a brief ripple of violence has slithered onto my street. There were two cars broken into three days apart and the front door to my apartment building was smashed in.

So in an effort to combat the fear brought on by such destruction, a small, simple little sign serves to make one chuckle and move on with life. This is the first step. To ensure that we do not crumble under the weight of perceived burdens. The second step would be to determine solutions and the third implement.

People, Crack Kills. Ask any plumber...and girl with a thong and body suit that are too small.

This message brought to you by the Partnership for a Laughter-Filled America.

Resurrected Sunday

2007-08-19T10:34:00.001-07:00

The former days of my writing process including running ragged with varying activities and intensity. The mix was angst, stupidity and insight. This would blend itself with a huge chip on my shoulder into something sad and beautiful.

Back about a year ago i attempted to re-do this process because it involved alcohol and erratic behavior. Hence I would wake up on a gentle Sunday and feel the peace of having spent all my energies. Alignment of my world would come full circle and a new week would begin with a knell of peace.

So yesterday I was drinking for the 14th straight hour and everything was going swimmingly. However, inevitable descent from the wave of perfection came quickly and unexpectedly from without and within. Quite unnoticed the heralds of promise had possibility had already gone home. The one of Fortune stayed out in the rain.

At last I came to the same place I have been. The snake eating its tale once again. Ourorboros. The few threads I have left are there to the sound of tinny drum and the nothing else.

I have this feeling like I am supposed to be preparing for something, but school is finished for the next few weeks and the tides have steadied. My left hand has been itching, always favorable. My right hand keeps time with the squeaks.

Contemplation is a tempting option, but altogether a waste of time. I pick up the thigh-bone of a mallet and strike the gong at the right time.

Playlist

"Maybe Not" by Cat Power
"Wave of Mutilation" by The Pixies
"Faith" covered by Limp Bizkit
"Dancing with Myself" by Billy Idol

Have I told you you're beautiful today??

2007-08-12T17:55:00.000-07:00

I wish it was last week
When the sky cried to relieve the heat

It would never work out
When we found out
We looked surprised
Our desires were on the rise

We gave it one more try

But I can tell, we're getting tired
Of walking through this mire
Vitriol tipped with litmus
To define what is "us"

Beyond that there's not much more
Meeting you was an amazing joy
Sorry, never found that space
To love you in the right ways

Guacamole was our blood
Hopes and fears smeared our love.
August was the right deadline
Loving on borrowed time.

Faith and fear cast aside
New York, Boston, be nice
I'll sing to you at night
Everything will turn out right.

There's no blame, just a small smile
Walks in the park, a wishing child
Chinese and barbequed foods
Never worrying for emotion or mood

All these sound the same
I hope not the ones in your name
It's time for us both to stop holding hands
Not by those other two bands

Good night there Delilah
Bona sera, bella

At Last!!!

2007-08-08T05:36:00.000-07:00

What

2007-08-02T21:13:00.000-07:00

Fellatio, 1 or 2 "L"'s

2007-07-27T08:06:00.001-07:00

[I was having a discussion about the objectification of woman and the present trend to discount a woman's ability to make an adult decision on her own. This was my response to a longer discussion which I won't post here. The title of the post was in response the question of what female sexual act is not a slur.]

Felatio is not a slur, it's a noun.

Step back from the rap songs for a second and look at the bigger picture. Take yourself and other people of rational thought and realize that you can objectively decide, as an adult, about things like violence and rascism and politics. Ask yourself, why that is.

My answer would be because I have been educated and raised (in a broken home) to think about what enters my mind. To critically analyze and understand the messages presented. IF we are overcome the sexual immaturity in this country we need to EDUCATE our young, our middle aged, to make an informed decision and give due to consideration to both sides of any issue.

So, I may listen to Ice Cube and sing outloud, "..cuz my d@#k runs, deep, so deep..." But I still have respect for any female I encounter. This is the delineation of consciousness. And people just can't accept it because it's either black or white. Excuse the pun.

I am almost thinking we are in agreement about "sexuality is exploited to fuel the myth that female is inherently immoral..." I agree and I think it's wrong when people believe that woman are not people. BUT artistic expression provides the contrast by which you measure your views about sexuality. Without it you would a vaguer (reckless wordage) understanding of it.

Now you may say, and rightly so, that not everyone is exposed to that. People from broken homes, like myself, and people who grew up at the bottom half of the middle class or lower, like myself. So what do we do?? A SOLUTION, not THE solution, is to implement a mentoring program for all children under the age of 18. If you look at countries like Denmark, they have a tremendous peer-to-peer mentoring system. This will help in coping mechanisms, foster interpersonal relationships, instill societal values of mutual respect. This is a step, now what??

Points: of political humor

see also Hott 4 Hill blog and

Renew

2007-07-15T08:11:00.000-07:00

Sitting up at 3 in the morning, away from lover's arms, pondering the past, its
marks upon my spirit.

Reflected in a fused future is my past self. Galloping exploits of laughter and romping, vivid ramblin'. These were shed and stricken from me. Taken one at a time.

I let it happen.

Silently I rage against my aggressor. First it was my lineage. Then it was love, trusted and complete. Disguised delivery of this plague of my spirit. The removal of humor, of joy, of freedom and smiles. All in the name of love, of honor. In the name of feigned maturity and virtue.

But I stand here not a victim to lay blame. Sitting on this couch I weep for myself in confusion and desparation to reclaim that which I have sacrified.

How?? The new boundaries and faith needed for this venture are scarce. Fear feeds the flow of the future. Forgiveness for myself come haltingly forward. I drink my coffee.

How do you feed your spirit?? How do you rebuild that spark of letting go and instill the joyless abandon of yesterday??

It's time to get busy living, or get busy dying.

And I Came Home...

2007-06-22T14:40:00.000-07:00

I took to-day off from whatever it is I do and went for a walk for 4 hours in the sun. I'm contemplating heavily what I want to do with my life, mostly professionally. I have my company but it is premature and requires nurturing. In the meantime I have to persue several other less appealing options. Emotionally I am all over the fucking place. Spiritually I am at an ebb and flow. I have done NOTHING for the Solstice unlike recent years. These are pieces of driftwood in my stream of consciousness.

I bought a hand-rolled cigar and walked to my friends house. She wasn't home. Reading "Mules and Men", smoking the whole way. Upon returning home, feeling light-headed and somewhat heat exhausted I sat down and watched this:

I will now make myself some rice and zucchini and meet my evening as it drawns near.

Oh Life, stranger and stranger do you become. I welcome Thee.

Love,

Me

New pics posted on Hollow Eyes Photo Blog

2007-06-19T22:27:00.000-07:00

[this is my pic]

Post some new photos, my loyal readers.

Hollow Eyes Photoblog

Return to Paradise City

2007-06-17T18:23:00.000-07:00

[To the tune of "Rockstar" by Nickelback]

I'm done sitting in my apartment, going nowhere.
Like a waiting room, tuburculosis patient.
This life is exactly what I want it to be....

[Tell me what you want]

I wanna roar down the throat of the fuckin' Taconic
In a Ford Mustang, last name on it.
Wanna out run every motherfuckin' trooper I see.

[So what you need]

I need a one-way ticket to old Jiveland
That place where sunsets forever stand
In my mind a final paradise for me

[Been there, done that]

Wanna take my friends for a fuckin' good time
The hottest place for tequilla and lime
Wanna never remember what it was I came to forget.

[So how ya gonna do it]

I'm gonna do things my way, there's no question
Gonna make a lot o' money, in the action

Break all these chains holding me down.
S'all about life going round and round.
Work hard, play hard that's the key
Gonna make it big, can't wait to see.

Cuz I want it, so, bad,
Just round the corner and it makes me glad
All about livin' in the moment here
Gonna live my life, free of fear

Hey, hey gonna be in Jiveland. (2x)

Wanna go to Nadine's for some damn good parties
Laugh with the Kraisky's, laugh with me hearties
Talk about the stupid shit we used to do all day

Roll down roads, I know all the names
Play all those stupid drinking games
Gonna lose my cards and self-respect in hand

Gonna stop by Lynn's for hugs 'n kisses
From three awesome kids, I does them misses.

We'll talk about life and what it's missin'
Laughing all the way cuz it's really freezin'
The beer is smooth
Whiskey is bad,
Time goes slow
Night grows deep
There's peace in our hearts tonight
So clear that we never fight.

The Moon is out, over the road tonight
My friends and I, hold eachother tight
We know that the time is now
Cherishing the moments is all we have.

Hey, hey gonna be in Jiveland.

Swinging Scratch

2007-06-08T01:07:00.000-07:00

There are only ecohes which surround me. It's so quiet. That was the first thing I wanted to write. So quiet.
You can hear me breathing completely in appeciation for the motion. But I breathe alone. Looking around I have come to the desert, picked grains of sand and begun forging glass.

I reach up and discover the lightwith my hands. Unfortunately that's not what we're supposed to do. Labelling that as superstition, I outstretch anyway.
Letting go of all I hold inside. Finding no solace in others. Wanting to be by myself. Drink slowly, says I, my dealer wipes off the bottle of Strega. He sees clear, liquid. I see oblivion.
Oh the obvious hypocrisy at seeking death, 'at the end of a candle' in every day life. Like air at the bottom of a river.

3rd beer and I've learned how not to have it overflow. It affects the typing so. Research for advertising methods has fallen away to the numbness of the forthcoming day.
But does it matter Comtemplation of frolicking with my friends. Those days would never end. In the sun. Oh the smiles which build cities, and make the monotony
and the unnecessary vanish. Wish you were here and I was there. We'd miss eachother by miles.

I have this picture of me on the my first grasp of the Pacific ever, with arms outsteched. It's where I want to be again. In the midst of Paradise with Eve. Putting the picture against the screen I realize she caught her thumb in the picture. Longing for coffee I must some Time give into sleep. Sandals-in-hand I deny the Sandman his due as my per view stretches into infinity.

There are no surfers in Sicily. Bah. Ceres will guide me. For there is no longer us. Just me and the stars. Alone on the Friday. The tablet day. It's amazing how my mind creates importance. But there is none, truly. It's all persective and contrast as many have taught. And in the morning I will reach for this box and think to myself, what magnanimous verbal draws I have made here to-night. Only to realize that they are but the ordinary ramblings of a man who hath imbibed too much.

The path of Forgetting is never easy. Particularly for us with a audiographic memory.

Hush until morn, my fawn.

R.E.M., "Drive"
Primitive Radio Gods, "Motor of Joy"
The Misfits, "Last Caress"
Finger Eleven, "One Thing"
Dave Attell, "The Unfuckables"
Flogging Molly, "What's Left of the Flag"
Madonna, "Crazy for You"
Madonna, "You'll see"

Out da Park

2007-06-03T18:15:00.001-07:00

Lately I've been skeptical
Silent when I would used to speak
Distant from all around me
Who witness me fail and become weak
Life is overwhelming
Heavy is the head that wears the crown
I'd love to be the one to disappoint you when I don't fall down

But you don't understand when I'm attempting to explain
Because you know it all and I guess things will never change
But you might need my hand when falling in your hole
Your disposition I'll remember when I'm letting go of
You and me we're through
And rearranged

It seems that you're not satisfied
There's too much on your mind
So you leave and I can't believe all the bullshit that I find
Life is overwhelming
Heavy is the head that wears the crown
I'd love to be the one to disappoint you when I don't fall down

...

You think that everybody's the same
I don't think that anybody's like you

...

Be the same

Rearranged, Limp Bizkit

I Killed Hitchcock, or Childish vs. Childlike

2007-05-30T22:28:00.000-07:00

Sitting here listening to a song who's reflection I can't remember. Trying to pull it into the light like a heavy trunk
in the attic. It contains something, but the key is nowhere to be found.

Apart from this I've been taking an extended break from my Accounting homework to do the following:

-Constructing a sign which reads, "Shit, what time is it??"
-Get an update on my friends' 8-year-old who was caught in a boat's prop four days ago
-Call My Love.
-Watch a few hours of uninterrupted Christopher Hutchinson interviews.
-Wonder if The Cranberries are still together.

Looking out into the night and drawing a line from the insignifigance of existence to-wards the heart of a child who can't see out of her eye that's leaking spinal fluid.

People ask me why I write about these things. The pain in life. It used to be easier without so much fame and notariety as my blog has. To many it seems to be, on the surface, for shock value. But it is truth, nonetheless. And from philosophy class we know that there is no Absolute Truth, only perspective. But we, as members of our species are drawn to awe and car crashes. We don't want to be the only ones with a peanut fetish. Hence the ever popular blog, PostSecret.

I recently discovered two other sites worth mentioning:

1) True Mom Confessions which delivers the news to the newcomer that, "We all have secrets. Things we don't want people to know because we're afraid. Afraid of being judged or resented. Afraid of being found out. Afraid of being recognized as imperfect (OR less-than-perfect). Afraid that people in our lives will see us as unworthy outsiders or, even worse "bad mothers."

2) PostCards Anonymous telling all in sundry that, "It's about the opportunity to express yourself in a way that's creative and perhaps a little liberating. There's something inside everyone of us that wants to break the surface. What's inside you that you would really like to share - but you're not sure who you can tell or how to say it? This site exists for that reason. Here you can let it out." [Digital submissions are not accepted]

3) I am also pleased to see that Daily Confessions and I Should Have Told You are back to full active status.

These are decent cures to the endless whine that your PostSecret postcard did not make it on there. So when you get up to-morrow morning, yelping. Stretch your arms to-wards the sun and think about how wonderful it is that you are alive. That you will trip over the dog on the way to the bathroom and miss the last episode of "Scrubs".

Untill then, follow the wisdom of the Butthole Surfers, "I don't mind the sun sometimes/the images it shows.../Cinnamon and sugary/And softly spoken lies/You never know how you look/Through other people's eyes..."

Playlist:

AC/DC, "I Feel Safe In New York City"
B.B. King, "Is You Is, or Is You Ain't My Baby?"
Audioslave, "Shape of Things to Come"
Project Management Podcast 2006/05/27 "Getting it Done"
George Carlin, "People Who Misuse Credit Cards"
Flogging Molly, "The Wrong Company"
Itzhak Perlman, "Papa, Can You Hear Me"

Has Anyone Seen Sean Donovan??

2007-05-16T11:24:00.000-07:00

Sick Short

2007-04-20T19:38:00.000-07:00

In the throws of conversation an idea was born. Such was the nature of the idea that it made me stop to think. And, with any conversation, it went on. The idea germinated and was put forth in fruition. By that time I was almost on the floor. Laughing, screaming and crying.

To give it some context the planet's position is growing dire. We need to invest in renewable energies and recycled materials. We need to return to farming our own organic food to provide a safe and healthy future for generations to come.

Now, if we can couple that need with our insatiable sexual desires we could potentially achieve a new level of accomplishment. Enter the Orb(c).

The Orb is a biodegradable buttplug that after use can be planted to produce fruits and vegetables. Your own feces privides the fertilizer and thus, in a marketing sense, provide an "attachment" to the product.

These will be econimically packaged and produced from recycled, yet comfortable materials, for the enjoyment of all.

If you would like to provide funding for further development and research please contact me via email. Thank you.

Sparks

2007-02-25T12:48:00.000-08:00

[Pilfered Pic]
I, need, my, pain.

Why??

In my present physical state I have been suffering from a cold/flu/stomach virus. My cyclic energy level has forced me onto a regimen of powdered, organic energy drink and one serving of coconut juice with chunks. This is taken every morning and early evening. It allows the completion of all tasks before collapsing into exhaustion. Recycling the process occurs the following day. Tertiary benefits are clearer skin and colon and a tolerance for sharp citrus tastes. Ultimately, I have never gone to the bathroom this much in my whole life.

Things are shifting on a mental and emotional level. I have been able to parry stress more effectively. Yet in isolated instances demanding and even controlling outbursts occur. These seemingly surfacing reflections of past pain enter certain situations. My thought process reflects rising expectations of responsibility, and thus I thrust additional tasks on others. It is not delegation, more in the vein of creation, mirroring my perceived load. Ante up, so to speak.

Upon further reflection I find it's the "that's-not-fair" pain. Well, if you expect A,B, & C from me, then I will expect the same from you. Which on paper, screen, or in the executable programming in my head, sounds pretty logical. Dialogue repels from this pain of injustice and creates the need elements of perceived control.

But what purpose does it serve now?? Certainly people are not united in the same constraints or moral measures. Attempts to control foster resentment and rebellion rather than synergistic motion. This need to illuminate "the better way" is spawned from helplessness and pain. Conversely, the sum of a person can be measured by their knowledge and experience. The question to ask is should the pain be the reason for the action.

Various teachings point out that what we expect to happen will happen. If we expect suffering, so shall we receive it. It is the manner is which we deal with suffering that ultimately determines the outcome. An outlook of success in the face of suffering will result in success. Again, returning to the maxims:

Everything happens for a reason
We put this in front of us
This is what is supposed to happen

Letting go of age old pain, unplugging the buttons installed by others in our phyche is a tedious process. Allbeit painful.

How's Your V.D.??

2007-02-13T18:54:00.000-08:00

Welcome back, dear pedestrians and contestants.

In the past I've regaled you all with tales of the Loveless and the True of Heart. With whispered hauntings of people fallen into temptation and persons burdened with chaste longings. And once again to pontificate on the state of love in this universe, which is mine.

Wrapped, am I, in the bliss and the kiss of my Love. Our path has grown in breadth and life, so many wondrous directions of exploration, bewildered expectation and greatfulness for what has been given.

Commercial aspects of Valentine's Day hav delivered the newest version of The Pill. Sprouting forth from the womb of FDA approval is Yaz. Efforts to manufacture a substance that prevents pregnancy and be ultra-hip, the Berlex Pharma chose a name that fits into the situation applicable to the product. As illustrated in the following dialogue:

Half-drunk male: Are you on the pill??
Completely wasted female: Yazzzzzzzzz!!

There has been talk of a conspiracy to market this drug to teenagers due to the FDA first approving Yaz to treat acne. However, who could ever question the credibility of a pharmaceutical company's committment to its customers.

The thing I wish to tell you is there is no simpler thing, no greater expression than love. It is a truly wondrous thing to have. It's Miracle-Gro for the soul. For all of you lucky enough to welcome it into your life, it is to be cherished. Even amongst the heat coals of debate. For those who have yet to discover or re-discover, true joy awaits.

Towards

2007-02-07T10:34:00.000-08:00

All these places in Jiveland have recently come to mind in no particular order. Hugging turn four in my riceburner, the tagkanic, the shortest route from Red Rooster to Put Lake. The abandoned stone structure on 202 just passed the two gas stations. Where the cops hide on 84.

I worry that I've been away for so long. The brain flashing locations, allowing them to fade. Fear to forget details about the where's and what's. Old people always remember the smallest detail about the past, ever fleeting. Finally memory becomes a buttlerfly that you can't keep up with, whose color shifts in the light.

Upon meditation today my wings stretched like never before and my arms grew blue flames. It made me smile.

Listening to:

Sleep It Off Gramps, Christmas in Killarney, The Ruffians
The Superself, Kode IV
Scotch & Chocolate, Nickel Creek
Gone Til November, Wyclef Jean
Gimme Some Lovin', The Spencer Davis Group

Files of Interest:

TPS Report Fax Cover Sheet (pdf)
Belching Dragon Chinese Menu (jpg)

Sites of Interest:
[pilfered pic from here]
Blotter Acid Art
StumbleUpon
Juxtapoz

Contrast

2007-01-23T20:05:00.000-08:00

Went to the post office the other day. For those of us who live under the radar the post office is a haven of anonymity. Money orders, post office boxes. The tools to a freedom of existence and transactions.
Arriving at my local haven I notice a straggler taking in a symbol, completing the routine of their daily dudgery. The symbol has
changed meanings for me and countless others over the course of centuries. The symbol has exemplified defiance, freedom, victory and, even to some, oppression. That symbol is the American flag.
It was being taken down off the pole in front of the post office and not folded in its usually manner but part of it dragged against the soggy wet ground. The tail sloshed along in the muddled snow following its caretaker, or proxy. I thought of saying something, though my hesitation put the moment of action farther out of reach.
As I pulled into the parking lot I saw a man getting out of his jeep. The bumper and rear window of his vehicle, the front of his hat, and entire back of his jacket were covered in the crest of the United States Marines. And I thought, how would this man react to the flag being dragged. How would he react to my silence. Would either or both, have dishonored his sacrifice and those of countless others.
Tonight as I listened to the words of our president, and watch the faces of generals, and on-lookers, I thought of that man. The man in the parking lot. I heard the words later of a congressman who spoke of an overwhelming majority of Senators, Representatives, elected officials, military personnel, and citizens who were opposed to a war brought about by lies. All who oppose their country's present position of aggression.
We drape this flag on the caskets of the fallen to honor there sacrifice. But what has fallen is meaning of that sacrifice. Their memories, soiled and discarded. If I looked into the eyes of that man in the parking lot, what would they say??
The flag ripples in the night. The cries of the many go unheard, upwards Our warriors go unreturned to their beloved land.
My hesitation, my silence, the voice reflected in the sky.

Tiki To Go

2006-12-19T10:00:00.000-08:00

We never escape becoming our parents. Unless we never knew them.
Went back to school for my Masters in Buisness Technology Managment. I want to be marketable. Since no one will tell you what it takes to get a job these days. Or when you have a job what you are doing wrong. Or give you a consistent, straight answer about why they are letting you go or why you didn't get the job.
I think I should just make up a job and when people ask me how I got that job I can just tell them that I made it up. I want to be impressive. Since we allegedly create our own reality anyway, might as well go the distance. The only axiom which comes to mind lately is that "All men want control".
Yogi's want to control their universe by obtaining a higher state of consciousness (yea, i know it doesn't work that way exactly, but this is my universe). Government, religion, high school guidance counselors, all want control. Make us feel safe and not out in the void on some planet with all these beautiful pathogens. It makes us feel like we are worth something, like we matter.
Going to be galloping off with my girl. Oh glorious trek to come, greeting sunsets and smiles. Lovely eyes and the briefest of respites snowballing into deep breaths. Wind inside and above. The complete and immediate urgency to do absolutly nothing, but feed the belly and quench the soul, and reflect at the beauty, which is my love, in front of me. What a glorious time to come.

Please leave a message.

In the Cave Suspended

2006-11-22T07:24:00.000-08:00

"Thou art a Man/.../ Thy own humanity/ Learn to adore/ For that is my/ Spirit of Life/ Awake to arise to Spiritual Strife..."
-William Blake.

There is a need for self-improvement. Old habits and all that shit. Directions shrouded in distance. I am unfamiliar with the routes I usually demand that others arrive to my bookmarked place in the process - things are now reversed. Always the contrast shunted by perspective, precipitating growth.

I've always felt that struggle with any kind of demon was necessary. Complacency brought on by contentment is an enemy of personal development. Restlessness in my being has brought me drama and sorrow, but I continue to pursue it. "Why??," I ask myself. I never, truly, have fathomed an answer. This need to do many things produces fraternal twin results. One, it adds a texture to life. Without change and challenge, learning of the self does not take place. Second, my imagination, my "gift" is fed. Without a revolving experience, subconscious gathering is stunted. However, I have come to realize, most recently that certain demons no longer belong. They have lingered at the temple, to make the faithful evermore pious; but now the residents are disciplined and no longer require such a rigorous trial. Time to move to better things.

"And the truth is all there is". Getting to it, at this particular time in my life, has been very frustrating. Like digging through granite with a crayon. Perhaps the answer, like all things lies within. But, quite honestly, I have no idea. It's not that I don't recognize the value of revision in my own life, nor dismiss the necessity of it. Rather the actual execution, the machinations of change is what I struggle to find. The actual cause, the mindfulness of decision in relation to the new boundaries of my life, I seem to be lacking training in that particular area. Where does one get such training?? This "common sense" about certain situations was not imparted to me as I have become this...human.

In the end desire is not enough. Knowledge is elusive and my frustration is looking for at least a lamppost to see itself. Though I can feel it. To-morrow will arrive and the need to be thankful will reach its zenith according to old people with funny hats. One should always be thankful and joyful, and most importantly hopeful.

"No Problem" - A true story

2006-11-01T17:56:00.000-08:00

Colorado Wednesday night. Moon, shining bright. In my work attire, khakis and blue button-down, taking the garbage down behind my girlfriend's house. Discover a previously unexcavated excretory pyramid built by the Mastiff. Seaweed green beach sandals with the rounded inlays of white and brown beads, all the rage in Fort Lauderdale, are commandeered. Now, where to purge such odorously offensive items??

No problem, spray them outside with the hose.

The hose resides on the side without a light, reclaimed by the Halloween decorations. I roll it up underneath all the extension cords, rattle plastic bones, wake the auditorily challenged and displace the artificial spider web harvested from Spidey the Hutt.

Once turned on water shoots vigorously, washing away the waste clinging to my very sole. Emergency!! Losing water pressure!! Like any good transvestite at the bar, I look around in light for a bend, or kink, in the hose. None to be found. No problem. Using a imaginary etiquette I start wiping it on the grass. While lunging, my car keys contort in my tightening pocket and sets off the car alarm.

I stand there in the middle of the night, wiping my single shoe on the front lawn in seaweed-colored sandals, striding to my car alarm covering an UB40 song. In this moment of cosmic convergence I look at the sky and giggle my ass off at the path laid behind me and smile, at the good luck allegedly associated with stepping this shit.

Between Waving and Clapping

2006-10-14T19:57:00.000-07:00

Driving up 7th there I see the trees in their hospice. Round and round every year. The windshield reflects the wrinkled sky, an albino with a furrowed brow.

Thinking about the price of gas. Life's price rising and falling. The more I think about it the more the concept comes through in plate glass perspective. Crashing through in slow motion.

Silence carries a price. All action requires the currency of energy. Even in the stillness in reflection that freeing of the mind to other plains, its price is the release of being responsible to your reality. It creates a vacuum for other things to move to.

The price of lies is that your dance card is full. The fear keeps your feet moving in time with your mouth. Some people trip under the spot light. The potholes of conscience filled in .

But paying this price, does it give up permission and grant us freedom??

I turn into a field in time to see stone students disappear into the corn rows. A mother strokes her daughter's braids in the frozen night. This is not a place where any lynchings took place and yet violence hums beneath my shoes.

Walking to-wards the torchlight I see the circle, pronouced as it is, away from the road and sanity. Silence makes us let go. Tonight I have come to a commemortation of a future unlived. A familiar stranger asks me if there were things I wish I had done that I hadn't. I'm so certain that he's asked me that before that I say, "What did I say last time??" Having not met this man before he just stares at me. Hard like the ground, cold like the night.

The obscure beat of the moon comes down and heartbeats get louder in my ears. A man is brought forth, bound and chest bare. The circle widens. If I witnessed his punishment and demise, am I responsible. A man with a cross walks forward. He says something and strikes the bare-chested man, bringing him to his knees. Before he can get up another man rushes forward and strikes him in the heart with a sword. The kneeling man's pupils engulf the moon and he gives the earth his last kiss of betrayal.

He paid his price of admission to the world. He finally paid for what he had taken.

As we all must.

__
Playlist:

The Price, Twisted Sister
Sister Pain, Sealed With A Fist
No Skin, Golden Palominos
More 2 A Song, DMX
Gardens of Stone, Incendio
Aftermath of Temptation, Aftermath
Pistol Grip Pump, Rage Against the Machine
Lazy Sunday, Chris Parnell & Andy Samberg

Folded Rhombus

2006-09-19T07:01:00.000-07:00

Fr. J:

Thanks for the prompt reply. Yea, not too sure what I am doing right now. There are even some Kabbalah forces in my life which keep resurfacing. For the moment I am letting things with respect to my spiritual life be.

Had a revelation this morning as to what role my request played in. Whether I can do anything to avoid it and remove the obstacle, only Her Reserved Majesty Time shall whisper when she's good and ready.

I guess I am tired, somewhat, of searching. I have been searching for a long time. I have encountered many things and many traditions and alot of bullshit. I suppose man's search to get closer to deity has been as ongoing as his existence when all along deity resides within.

A friend of mine made an observation recently that I wasn't having any fun with my spirituality and that really bothered me b/c he's right. My coven back east used to really celebrate the holidays and embrace the need for joy and solemnity. But these are things which, I see, I have not pursued in my life spiritually. Perhaps still is something I have yet to bring back. Seems so simple and yet not at the same time. But these are my obstacles to overcome and shall.

On the way back from the Ocktoberfest this weekend, after a heated phone conversation with a loved one, my brain entered a simple question about my existence-
"What are you waiting for??"

Don't know where it came from but it seem to ring true for me at that very moment. Action instead of meditation would be most prudent I suppose.

yt -

Playlist for today:

Ring of Fire, Social Distortion
Laudate Dominium, Vesperae solennes de Confessore, K339, Mozart
Hash Pipe, Weezer
Hour of Zero, My Life with the Thrill Kill Kult
Jump 'n Shout, Basement Jaxx
Mamushka, The Addams Family

Empty Chair 8.17.06

2006-08-18T08:38:00.000-07:00

You shaped the lives of many men
Even this man
With jokes and wisdom.
Fatherly manner and grace, earned you an immortal name.

Returning the wayward
Designing, shaping, building, polishing the future
Handing out fart jokes, Maker's Mark, and smiles with persistence.
A great builder you were.
You became a keystone
The form and composition in edifices of your brethren.

Now staring at the horizon
Hearing your grasp open, your tools fall
Voice in my head, saying farewell.
Fading from this point

The cloth is lain
The sprig is planted
Words now spoken for the faithful:

Well done, good and faithful servant.
Enter now into the joy of thy Lord.

Rest in Peace, Papa Sy.
You've earned it.

Four Pikes, a Wreath and a Skull with Blue Ribbon

2006-08-03T07:51:00.000-07:00

I want you to, pinch me. Looking at the faces of people doing things that make them feel alive. When they are pinched does it produce the same feeling?? Pinch me. Smile, come and pretend it's the remedy for a restless life. The longing, the need to provide that star inside with a black back to shine against.

The sky’s been rubbed too much by a red hand. And in the process got wrinkled and bumpy. There’s so much said in the sky, but age restricts our gaze to only side-to-side and face-front. Not down to the Earth or up to the Sky. Those wizened lights have eluded my purview for about ten months. Shouts in silence, the ancient echoes given over and over to the planet’s previous custodians.
Have they listened??
Does it matter??

“Took a couple of Vicadin and knocked me out.” Well that can happen, but tonsillitis is a bacterial infection, not viral. Learning everyday that movement can change big things. Because there is only recognition for big things. Never the hummingbird or the ant. A piece of sidewalk was coming up in a Queens’ neighborhood. Four men sat outside for three days with rubber mallets and pushed it back down. All day they sat there, with pure concentration. Accomplishment without reward, small and insignificant, yet allows the ease of walking.

The pee of a 1,000 men are on the walls of that urinal. And they all have a life or an organism to share. Sharing their ideas and their way of doing things. All unique and possibly pathological if they weren’t sterile. Still have another’s pee on clean things is not always welcome or required, except in some places.
For example, my friend and his wife make their own soap and one time he was using a glass jar to heat the lye and it shattered. He had to pee on his legs to stop the burning.

Inconvenient truths are a matter of perspective. “I can’t see the train but I can feel it.“ It is the essence of judgment to acknowledge where we are standing when the bomb gets dropped. We feel the heat of emotion. The blast of repercussion. Rumbling and growling in the mouth.
Perhaps it’s the destruction of the words, blown to smithereens. Or the other way around, the words of destruction. The train is coming. I see it. My hair in the air, arms outstretched. Hearing the whistle, the oncoming light fuller. Round the bend.
I lay my ticket on the tracks and walk away.

Morning Standup

2006-07-17T07:08:00.000-07:00

I was completely sick this weekend. Don't know what it was but it took about 24-48 hours to recover from it. This weekend was all about the syndromes anyway.

Of course it was the few weekends I acutally spent at home. Normally I am at my Beloved's. Needless to say my building suffered from Restless People Syndrome. Some little kids were visiting their relatives on the floor above me. Sleep at one in the morning was not possible with the rocks moshing above me. So, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.

Feeling better, I decided to run around in my shorts with my air horn at 3 A.M. Although people didn't seem to appreciate it. They called the cops and terms like "mentally unstable" and "cracker-ass bitch" were tossed around like George Michael's salad.

Needless to say, My Love saved me by picking me up for brunch. Althought the one thing that annoys her about me is my constant leg shaking. It's a lot like Restless Leg Syndrome. That feeling of things crawling all over your legs that make you feel like you have to get and walk. Something like what happens when you leave college and stop drinking. Or so I've heard.

The kids were up til 1:30 last night. I had to get up at 6. Needless to say I sang loudly in the shower today.

Mornin'

Don't Need to Be King of the World

2006-07-17T07:05:00.000-07:00

Junior year, high school. Believe the moment held the ultimate truth. Because beyond that there was nothing. Coul hardly imagine the future. Unshaped, malformed and complicated. Looking round the sunken adult faces it looked like no fun.

Junior year, College. Why it has a capital “c” I’ll never know. Watching the remainders of nights and days and people’s joy keep itself as we did whatever we did. After that it got futile.
Oh there’s Barrettstock and a newsletter about what we left behind, but the spirits have long faded.
The fountain has been drained.

Not a junior any more. And the mantra of “Fossil, you’re 30-years-old.” is runs itself through my new loom of thought. Why was there no fear in younger year?? Perhaps threats and chasms, openly reflecting pockets of my soul.

They tore down the first house Jiveland that I lived in. The second one is still there and like clockwork the 1978 orange-gold El Dorado comes racing by, 10 o’clock. The third one is situated next to the aunt of Christopher from the “Sopranos”.

But then again I watch myself, seeing myself do what I do but excluding what I don’t do. Subconscious glaucoma.

Whose life is it??
Whose realm is it??
Whose universe is it??
Jealousy has no place amongst the enlightened. The day arrives with new challenge and me, somewhat yawning goes willingly.

Morning Standup

2006-07-05T07:29:00.000-07:00

Recently I had a layover at O'Hare on the way back from Jiveland. It's a huge place and I spent considerable time walking around.

Now before boarding my plane I thought I might hit the head. Usually, I do this because take off takes a while and you can't get out of your seat. So the sensation of uncomfort overtakes you as you struggle not to piss your pants and count the minutes til the seatbelt light would be turned off.

As I approacht he urinal, also known as "the access point" I notice my fly is down already. So I must have be psychic and put my fly down the whole time I was walking around O'Hare. Waving hello to everyone.

There's your morning chuckle. Go out and do something with it.

2006-06-21T11:30:00.000-07:00

Reaching for things, way above me
Mother's hand a moment away
Always pulls me up
Whenever I fall

I would hang when I was young
A weightless giggle.
Now I pull her close against her
She comes closer
Reaching down without looking
Ignoring me for the Sun

Old we are. She's older still
She pulls my heart and guilt cart
Down the stairs

2006-06-21T11:29:00.000-07:00

There's an old hebrew word which means to sit down with ones enemies and eat. This is done to push all the other shite out of the way and just have a meal together. This is one of the things that I did this weekend. When this person usually visits I get very, very tense. I become the guardian protector in all forms. But this weekend it was nice to see that I didn't need to do that for once. We sat under the sun together and ate and talked about our lives. The joys and the wants and the needs.

Did a lot of writing this weekend. Mostly aloof topics of simplicity and implicity where the whispers of life come together in shadows. They are the things which come to me in the space of everything, in the peripheral vision of my perspective.

Re-discovered the simple joys of kissing my girl. Such a wonderful to re-discover. The electricity and the sweet juice connecting emotion through the tendrils of the most nerve endings in your whole upper torso. It's something simple that's just so nice when you love someone so much.

One of the things I was working on was kind of a ballad of what my friends and i did growing up. I was listening to Lauryn Hill or the Fugees or somebody and they did a song like that. It was just cool to think about the liquid movements of memories within my head about those times in my life. Revisions are pending.

2006-06-14T07:24:00.000-07:00

The temptation to take old stuff and put it in here is like asking myself, "Since I have this flour and have no idea how long its's been there, should I use it anyway??"
Oh the click-clack of ideas trying to become something else by crashing one another. Kissing under a tree in the rain, but was it really raining. Then I found us in the bathroom staring at one another through the thickening air. Yea, it's a moment like this that i really need.

Coming to the need of something I need what do I need?? Do I need the bread or the wine?? it is the wine, flowing down the stream of a liquid diet and ending up in the river of saliva drolling towards a greasy spoon for those runny eggs. Have you got a straw or a rolled up $1.

Wrinkles in the fly paper make the fly nervous and near-sighted when he knows he going to die.

"This box will fit through there", I think to myself everytime. Sometimes It sqeezes by and other times it does not. What's the determining factor?? Well, I'm not really sure sure. Because everything has to have a double meaning even if it's the same. Because we can't say what we mean anymore. It's all just a metaphor for something else:

"i love you" = our genes match
"you suck" = you have something i don't
"be more professional" = be like me
"shut up" = stop making me think
"make it a great day" = be full of shit, all, day

So anyway, whether your shaving under the weight of forced economism or slicing your callouses off in the bathroom or getting your first taste of uncut honeycomb under the Australian sun.

Make it a great day, fuckers!!

2006-06-01T09:58:00.000-07:00

Flight 93....United 93...911Survivor Game...Columbine RPG

All right you fucking fucks. It's time. You worthless pieces of shit who love their fucking money so much that you have to make games and movies about 9/11. Suckle at the neck of people's fear and grief. You untalented, unimaginative, pathetic, sack of skin. You FUCKS!!

I've watched and watched and watched your disregard for the feelings and pain of others.

I want you loved one brutalized in front of your eyes. I will make a movie about it. It will be graphic and I will sell t-shirts, popcorn and autographed crime scene photos for money, money and more money. This will be a big death marketing gimmick. And when you weep at the picket line telling everyone how horrible it is, going on talk shows to denouncing your former pursuit, I will ask why you made 9/11 films and games in the first place. You will repent and tell me you didn't understand.

And I will spit in the face your new found understanding and quote a movie...

"[You] were so busy figuring out if they could, that they didn't stop to think if they should..."

Comtemplate the difference between desecration and remembrance. You have crossed the line with this shit. I give it no credence or attention, I feel sorry for you not realizing what others may be feeling. Your money may buy you things to comfort your fear. But in the end, the fear will still be there.

Double Zero

2006-05-22T16:10:00.000-07:00

Dukka
That which IS, should not surprise us.
It is our own doing.
Attempts to please everyone, results nothing. It is an empty back room of self that should never be.
Acceptance, detachment are key.
Others confuse detachment with uncaring. This could not be farther from the truth. Perhaps to have never been in that situation before. Unaware of how to "act" or "respond" appropriately.
Under circumstance, the shifting perspective, it would be acceptable. Moving vision, shadows and light, around the circle. Round and round.

This is perspective. The craving here is the forbidden because it is just that.
The craving is also judgement and moral indignation. This is contrast.

The cravings we have for things which allegedly bring us the joy of inner peace can only be given by us and as such we are still able to be generous to ourselves without these cravings.

But is it them on me or me on them??

Tanha
It is the thirst we hide. To ellude the Observer, the Watcher.
Secretly sit in the corner with some dark privilege
Climbing out of the shadowy corner, with smears on my face, saying, yes, I am a gourmet in my eyes. But it is hidden to obscure outside observation molded into lightening glass by judgment.

Nibbana
I don't think there is an end. There is only a momentary curtailment of that which we do to create pain in our lives. Learning constantly is our path towards the ultimate limitation and marginalization of suffering. Getting people out of our lives who cause drama. Sowing the seeds of love and intimacy. Realizing that it is, after all, your existence, dependent on none. You will be free. But constant toil in the soil of life is necessary.

Magga
This can only come with true understanding and acceptance of oneself. Balance with the word one knows to be a constant cauldron of suffering.

Samsara
Again and again. "Spin that wheel!!" Some spins are better than others.

Joy
Look around at life. This joyous life. Though some would not say it is so, holding the hand of a dying loved one. Others would take joy in their going ahead to a better place and remembering the exuberance and essence of their lives. Living in every moment allows this. To extract every drop of joy and sorrow from a moment.

But we lose sight of this, choosing the path of dukka. And the cycle begins again.

Jim Witness

2006-05-12T14:02:00.000-07:00

Jim was an alter ego of mine. I used him readily over the past year. He was responsible for representing the darker side of me. Jokes about abortion, dead people receiving bad customer service, etc. were all Jim's domain. He was a witness to the things which I was afraid to say for fear that people would misjudge me or think me insincere or worst "dangerous". Stephen King expounding dark thoughts s'ok, but if my journal is found will I need to go for psychological evaluation.
"Write a novel", you say. Well, I shall, says I.

And I would divide my thoughts into separate spaces for this purpose. The freedom of anonymity is devine in it's fluidity. So many smiles. But yet why keep it a secret. I became the watcher many times and caught glimpse of people and their machinations. They were not of afraid of the stranger because who would a stranger tell and who would believe a stranger. Their complexities, quirks, and habits shirking reason were witnessed and forgotten. They felt good to tell the nothingness. Yes, someone knew. He was Jim Witness.

The concept of self-death came into play with Jim. After years of being conditioned to hide things for the sake of avoidance of condemnation, it was time to break free. To accept the responsibility for what was coming out of my mouth. To state that yes, I am drawn to the obscure and the occult and I can be friends with almost anyone regardless of licentiousness. But reaching towards the sun, through these words, up out of the ground is another story.

For what comes out of one's mouth is reflected in the mind and is very powerful. Most do not realize this and thus reap what they have sown. I had a dream long ago that the actions we make are reflected by deity above, in what would be an endless lake. Reflection.

Self-death is the challenging of the ideas that have been solid for so long that the reason has been forgotten. Most keep the stability and the tranquility abound. Iviting though it is not to have the worry and the fear. Fear is my opiate. The antidote to fear is action. Constant action. Pour it like poison on the boils and sores of fear. That is the way of it. Do not talk about it.

Jim has been put to rest for he has grown obsolete and faded. He no longer holds the power he once did because his mystery is no longer. He has been fused into me, the new creation. The human race is an ever-evolving type of species. They repeat words, behavior, and ideas but from within comes new things which spring eternal in new directions. Much like the fractal of never-ending spires.

I miss Jim sometimes though. Eulogizing him now, as a gruff, dark, slightly sadistic, man would be an incomplete statement. Jim longed for light to bring him from his place. To have him believe in himself and that good has not perished.

Change is. There is no definition which only comes from perspective. Change, is.
Hurdles of self-belief and exploration are the keys to becoming. I have been becoming for a long. Courage to look inside oneself and explore to say, "there is more to who I am and I am going to find it." should not be spoken. It must be written on the heart. There is always more if one has the courage to look and explore.

The final piece which brought Jim's end, was the acceptance. Acceptance, complete, brought Jim to his resting place. For accepting completely, the good, the bad and the maybe about oneself is important for homeostasis of the soul. Lest we forget.

Jim, thanks, man. Rest in Peace.

A.R.A R.I.P

2006-04-10T19:29:00.000-07:00

'...man is a fallen god who remembers heaven...'
Alphonse de Lamartine, French poet,

Edie, where are you now?? or Shake the Fuck Up

2006-03-20T17:42:00.000-08:00

I look up at the black sky and think what am I doing...

Yes, so many irons in the fire I am the only one standing here.
I have been to many fires and the flick of the flames does not reflect my friends.

There is no more time to become. We come to the end of the hourglass stuck in our foot from fucking around at Aunt Annie's. And our poor, poor cousin, who weighed half as much, had to carry my ass up the stairs.

Who are we now.
I am the King of Clubs.
I am the parchment with the spider across it.
I am the raven resembling the writing desk.
I have two white horses in a line.

Who are you now.

Devulged of theory, the wind has made a wall that I must look through. Though I am careful not to sheer my skin against the cutting sands swirling to singe and strike.
Yes, I have moved towards the fire, hoping to ignite myself, yet stupidly I think that it is a mild effort to set one aflame.

I am out of time. There are no more moments to place and turn. This, is, it.

I am tired of talking. I am tired of speaking. I wish to speak as the wind does. Comprehesible to those who speak in Silence.

The true completions are that my friend's toilet is fixed and I am come full circle in my fault. LOOK INTO THE ABYSS and reflect on what is NOT there.

I have seen this. This is not the room in the dark. This is the dark tapping me on the shoulder and saying that there are no more commercials.

Where am I going.
At once, to the 525 lines.
At once, from the inside out.
At once, to the leverless summation.
At once, to a different haircut.
At once, I come to do the Devil's work.
At once, pushing the hewn stone.

I wrote a poem once that the teacher did not understand, and she said to me that I needed to leave the key for the reader to open the door to the meaning of the poem. I have given this advice over and over.

Dates
April 1st - Grandpa's b-day
April 8th - Something really important happened but I can't remember what.
April 11th - Feast of Rene
April 15th - Pay the Piper day

The key is under the mat for now.

Here, I go.

And what did you do today??

2006-03-09T07:50:00.000-08:00

And what did you do today??

This seems to be the eternall question for me right now.

What did you do today?? To me it really isn't about what you did so long as you did something. At least to anyone who's asking. To me it's about doing something that makes a difference to tomorrow because if you don't do something that impacts the overall goal, then you really didn't do anything.

Now, people think that making a walking stick the day after you return from a three month internship may be a waste of time, but I think it's a marker of what you want to do, that you are on a path.

Tips to finding a job:

1) Apply Liberally. Yes, much like wrinkle cream or K-Y, this adage will serve you in your job search. Apply to any and everything b/c you never know what idiot is in an HR position who really does NOT know how to pick the right person for the wrong job.

2) Age Matters Not. I was recently told by a resume reviewer to remove the dates on my resume. This is probably to the fact that I have a diverse amount of jobs in different areas like TV, Marketing, Internet and Telco. One could look at this and say, "My you have a diverse and flexible background with the ability to adapt to any environment quickly and effectively."
But mostly it's, "You've had too many jobs in the past so we are not sure we want to hire someone with a spring in their ass"

3) "I don't know. It's a mystery." So what exactly gets you hired theses days?? Experience?? Searchable resume format?? Long periods of employment?? Who you know?? The right piece of cloth around your neck?? Tell you the truth I believe it's a combination of all the other points in this post. But it is a mystery. Ask recruiters and you get no less than ten different answers. I think there should just be a mostly blank page that says your name and your age and what you want to get paid and perhaps one paragraph about what you have done (limit 5000 characters) and be done with it.
Since everyone has a different answer as to what gets you hired, I feel that this is any indication of how full of shit they all are.
SIDE RANT: At one point in my job search I had 5 temp agencies in two states looking for a TEMP job. Couldn't find one anywhere. Like virgin at a military ball. If you tell me it was because of the market at the time, how come there were so many job listings and so many temp agencies in business if there were no jobs?? It's temp, unskilled, NON-SPECIFIC labor force. The governments advice, "Look harder".
So I did. 5 job search websites. Various "recruiters". 4 temp agencies. Oh and two papers. Duration 3 months. What else should I be doing?? Wait, wait, I know: Go back to school. And after you get out, you are more in debt and have no experiece to get a job. Start again.

4)Malleable Proliferation. Now what I mean by this is LIE. Yes, go out and LIE. Only put the large amounts of employment on your resume. Leave the dates off and when they ask you about the gaps tell them you were consulting, freelancing or working for a non-profit. If they bother to do a search which 5 times out of 9 they won't they will find your checkered past and you will not get the job anyway. Had you told truth, you will not get the job. This way, you will get the job and do a good job.
If you sign the application saying the statements are true, "to the best of your knowledge". I, myself, cannot remember, on cue, the last ten places that I have lived. So I can tell you, "to the best of my knowledge."
Example, In 2001 you get a job that you have for two years. You leave for a company that has offered you more money and a there is actual possibility for growth and advancement. It's great. You get promoted and looking like you are going to finally settle down. But after a year and a half, the company gets bought. You get laid off. Then you find this awesome contract job for 6 months. You take it because you will starve otherwise. You continue to look for a job.
BUT: When you go apply, the interviewer sees that you've had three jobs in four years and even though you tell them that you've been promoted and are a hard worker, you don't get the job. If you apply for a job in an unrelated field to find some stability for a couple of years, despite you being a hard worker you don't have experience and they won't think you would stay.
These are companies that will not take care of you when you are old and sick. They will not care if you put 30 years in and will not hesitate to fire your ass for someone is half your age and will work for half as much. But yet, you need to make them feel emotionally secure enough to hire you. Reminds of the bar scene in college. But that's another story. Er, ok.

NOW WHAT: You scale back the resume to reflect less employers. You take off the dates. When asked you tell them they were contract jobs and that your direction NOW is long-term, stable and in the field they are in. This will shorten the job looking by YEARS.
Also, if you are in a city where you know no one, go get to know them. Get a crappy job meeting lots of people. Be smiling, be friendly, be open. No sobs stories, just optimism. This will help. Because as I mentioned before, it's not what you know, it's who you know.

One more thing. When people tell you things like, "You should be a teacher." or "You should be an Endoscopy Assistant.", they are only trying to help. These people care enough about you to say something. Don't throw it away right away. Chew on it for a while. Explore the mechanisms, briefly, about achieving the suggestion. Make a decision if it is something you really want to do. And then toss it. Consideration will help you realize what you do and don't want to do and will make the other person feel like that they are useful to you. You have giving them consideration. Just as you would ask them to do for you.

In conclusion, it is stil your life. Always remember that. I am not whining, merely venting my frustration. Do I have ideas to improve this system?? Yes. But at present they are impractical to our society and economy and I need further research.

Good luck, campers.

Misnomer

2006-03-02T15:30:00.000-08:00

[pilfered pic]

I have this thing about never naming my posts before I write them. they never turn out well if i do. usually. because if i do then i have these pre-conceived emotions and notions about what it's supposed to be about versus just writing from the hip which is what I am good at.

the picture is a misleading. I am not here to talk about the corporate tampering of our society, though the Underground knows my feelings about this. i do not threaten clowns anonymously either. i think clowns are an important part of society, specifically in the role of scaring the shit out of children we don't like. Or, like certain people I know,certain clowns are happy, all the motherfuckin' time.

i miss Jiveland. I missed it yesterday to be more specifc. growing up in a place with familiar rules and mechanisms is a comfort in times of uncertainty. Yet, it was not the place I was meant to be in. I am now in a position to design my own world, make my own rules. After I got out of class yesterday I had to chew on the profundity that the Infinite gives us the power inside our Finite existence to mold our existence into what we wish, by nuturing and growing the Infinite within us (these Finite shapes). Bah!! Apotheosistics people!! A rarity apparently on this show.
Pop goes the brain, m'dears.

the true purpose of this post is to tell you that soon i will be without a computer. Again. and until I actually buy one, my communiques will be intermittent. But the question to ask myself is, "Why do I blog??" Is it for the people and their perspectives?? Is it to share my own?? Is it to share my writing with people?? Is it to be part of this expansive, undefineable group that's getting opinion consideration and airtime on CNN?? Fark if I know, but I enjoy it and loathe it at the same time.

so , i just wanted to tell my faithful 11 readers what is going on. i'm not leaving, i'm not staying. i'm not going home, but i can't stay here.

Remember:
1) Your life is NOT about pleasing another.
2) Everything happens for a reason.
3) The mind is more powerful than reality.
4) Do one ting everyday that's painful and scares you.
5) When you are sure of what you are looking at, become it, and you will realize you are not sure.

Until then.

3AM Phone call

2006-02-18T19:53:00.000-08:00

[pilfered pic]

Every now and again we all get that call. The call that makes us feel like we've got it really better than most. This was one time when it was my turn in the barrell.
Phone rings, three o'clock. I've been the one making these phone calls, years ago. I fell asleep one time. My friend was pissed.

Anyway, the phone rings. It's my friend. In Jiveland, anyone can be your friend. There are varying degrees of friends. From "Hey" friends to good friends. This was a friend. One that I would talk to at 3AM and not tell him to call back tomorrow. He tells me in a confidentlly slurred voice about his life. Here it is, in not-so-clearly remembered order:

The Rundown
1. He lost his job at a shitty firm two weeks ago
2. Trying to start his own company with two kids
3. He's having a little trouble in the erectile penile department
4. Personal accumulated debt: $8K
5. He loves his wife, he's still alive, and a little unsure of himself.
6. He thought about all his problems in one big, unformed pre-historic black mass. He walked to the bathroom. He tells me that he's only telling me this to tell me. Not for any other reason. Pills here and there. He closes his eyes and a can imagine each one stumbling down his throat. The ones that didn't topple to the floor. Gulping down a big glass of water and staring at himself, realizing he can't take it back.
But he's just talking. He laughs a desperate laugh and tells me that it can't all be that bad. Right??

I comfort him best I can. He alternates laughing and sobbing and sipping on the motivating liquid behind the call. Think to myself this is the true test of a friend. The two paths are to repeat those phrases of comfort away from the reality hurtling towards him. Or. Tell him the facts but there are people that have been through a lot worse and encourage personal effort and growth.

And that right now, not far enough away, I'm thinking that there are people, sweaty, on a dance floor, or some kid watching his parents play American Gladiators, but for real. Right now someone's eating pizza or pissing in public for the first time. But I'm getting nostalgic.

I'll give him some advice from Bob Marley and hang up. The question is do I believe Bob ["Every little thing, gonna be alright..." for the uninitiated] and does it matter?? I can see how the problems we endure can seem overwelming. Stepping in shit may be good luck, but you still have to clean your shoe. Or your foot. Well it depends where the shit is...who's the shitter...anyway...

Ok. Back to Dreamland. Where the Reality is.

Ride Along.

2006-02-18T17:36:00.000-08:00

[pilfered pic]

Note: This is a meditation. I have annotated songs which I was listneing to. They will be placed in italics. Most meditations I do are active. In other words I am moving, running, working da body in some fashion. You are being brought along for the experience, which may help you or meerly serve to entertain. Some songs I listened to entirely, some I skipped the rest of.

Beck: Farewell Ride
Walk with me. Going to Merrit Park towards the Temple of the Two Trees. But today I am not going to the temple, take the path to the left.

Control Machete: Si Senor
The hill goes up at about a 50-degree incline and has rocks along the way. I start climbing and as I do I start hearing the voices of everyone who doubts that I can do it.

The Crystal Method: Born Too Slow
"You need to take it easy, you have Epstein Barr."
"Have you gotten bloodwork done??"
"How much are you making??"
"But you have a college degree??"
"You're living where??"
"I'll do it for you."
"You have asthma. You'll never make it."
"You'll never make it."
"You'll never make it."
"You'll never make it."

Rage Against the Machine: Wake Up
Climbing. Fas, faster.My mind is sweating.I hear thevoices. I see the faces. the faces that I've seen all my life. I climb. I do not stop. I go. Go. Go. My feet dig into the dirt. I grab rocks and try to pull them out of the Earth. The voices continue.
I move on.

Eminem: Lose Yourself
It's starting to get dark. The hill does not seem to be getting smaller. I don't seem to be geting any closer to the top. I let out a defeated laugh and close my eyes as I climb. Still hearing the voices I climb faster and inexplicably begin to cry.
You can't.
You can't.
You can't.
The words fly before my eyes.
I cry more. I start to ask myself why I can't do. I tell myself I can do. I keep telling myself that. Still crying through the darkness I keep going.
The song ends and I want it to keep going because I think it's the only way I can push through this. The silence continues.
I open my eyes to realize that I am on the tredmill and the candle in front of me is flickering. I realize that I have finally arrived at that place, that barrier which keeps me afraid of myself and makes me doubt. I have torn through the plasterboard and made a break in the brick. The light is winking at me.

The checkered floor of King Solomon's temple is emblematical of human life. Checkered with good and evil.
Exit with either:

Antonio Carlos Jobim: The Girl From Ipanema
or
Tool: Imagine

My V-D

2006-02-14T22:01:00.000-08:00

[pilfered pic]

And on this day I am reminded and thankful for the love present in my life. She is the light to which I look and in all that rests in my heart. I asked for this in my life and it was granted in the fullness in time.

My gf is wonderful, generous, intelligent, devine, and beautiful. To-day is not the only day upon which I honor her. It is all days. I have often read that a woman's heart is like a fire. It should be tended well. At present we find ourselves defining our roles together. This is growth and we are the better for it.

Valentine's Day originally started out as people streaking through the streets of Rome to inject levity. Unfortunately this practice has fallen by the wayside. I always wondered how this holiday morphed into chocolate, flowers, cards and jewelery. Though comparing each to one's anatomy does reveal some interesting corrolations.

So to-morrow or until the end of the month, ask your fellow humanoid, "How's your VD??" You may get slapped or you may get a chuckle. Or you may get an answer like the one my friend Sue gave me at the salad bar in 1996, "Shut up, Foot!! Who told you??"

For some duration in college I would hold an Anti-Valentine's Day Party. I would gather my single friends and we would do something. This lasted for about two years, though somewhat surprisingly successful. Most of my single friends are now married and/or divorced. Something to look forward to.

At any rate, I, to-day, continue to hum the H-word in my head. My love is here.

Road

2006-02-12T14:03:00.000-08:00

So I turned 30 this week. My gf treated me to a weekend of snowboarding and sinful Swiss food.

Snowboarding is not so easy as it looks. I came, I saw snow, and I fell. A lot. I landed on my knees, my neck, my back and everything else. I could not get cold in the minus two degree weather because all of my blood was near the surface of my skin, cirrculating. I am still sore. I am now, officially, old and cannot be trusted by anyone under the age of 29. It was fun. I forgot how tranquil doing that type of activity can be as I used to ski for a number of years. Although I remember being able to pee without pain the last time.

At any rate, came upon a bead shop that had red, glass beads from the 1600s, got a reading from a really bad psychic, and was almost seated in the Gringos Only section of an authentic Mexican restaurant.

My gf took me out to dinner. It took two, yes two, gondala rides (about forty minutes above ground) to get there. I was made to dance on top of a chair to a Swiss song, drank some Chamay, and ate dark chocolate fondue. The ride back was a little chillier than anticipated.

I am truly blessed and grateful for what I have received and experienced this weekend. I am very lucky. Thanks be to my gf for showing me a wonderful and memorable time.

[pilfered pic]

The lesson I came away with from being here thirty years came upon me when I was walking down the road. The moon looks down upon me. It can help by illuminating the road for me to see. But it can only do so much. It only lights the road half the time. It is up to me to light my own way. The moon also provides possibilities and dreams and hopes. But only I can build the staircase to the moon.

What that staircase looks like and how it feels,the color and direction of it, is mine alone to determine. I need to stop listening to others who think I should build it this way or that. Those who think function is more important or perhaps style. I need to decide. This has been a problem for me for years. And the beginnings of the solution have taken root. Habits and rashness must be removed. Passion and persistence are the greatest tools.

Happy Birthday to Me.

Remembered Insolence

2006-02-07T11:59:00.000-08:00

[pilfered pic]

3:15 AM
My next door neighbors stumble home at full blast around this time. Rousing me from a pleasant melatonin-induced slumber. I am hoping that they get larangitis in the next six minutes but it doesn't happen. How come when people make noise and then get quiet and then loud again, the silence is always the internval just shy of you getting completely back to sleep?? I finally get myself back into the darkness.

7:15 AM
The neighbors again. They are awake. Fuckers. It's two girls under the age of twenty. They carry that incessant giggle that women who have never see a grown man naked have. I am getting old so it bothers me. I hope they are getting ready to leave, but my hopes are dashed upon the rock of Time Passing. I hear one of them say, "My lungs hurt". I'm hoping she means literally, and that it would impact her future endeavors towards speech, but alas, it ain't so.

I wait.

They giggle on.

I am about to take my shotgun, go knock on their door and say, "Here. Be quick and don't make a mess." But before I can unlock the gun cabinet, I hear them leaving.

I look out the window. Just as I thought. Although there's the boyfriend with them too. Thank god he's a mute. Ah, fleeting darkness come back. Random rain storms where are you when I need you.

10:22 AM (Pulp Fiction time, three hours later)
Near-gay exerience.

I am at the bagel shop, pushing out of my head the invading hordes of words telling me that these bagels are not Jiveland bagels. So I order and pay. As I am doing so my gf calls back with her order. She's getting a pedicure and I briefly picture her cute toes. The guy next in line is almost on top of me. The kind of distance that you would give someone in a wedding picture. I just want to turn to him and give him a big hug. When people invade my personal space I want to show them the true humanitarian I am.

12:56 PM

i have errands to run. Recalling this shit from this morning reminds me about the reflection I had last night. I am turning 30 in the next week or so. It is a doorway from my adolescence finally closing. Though my savage past fades with my pickled mind I can only look forward to the life I want. After wasting all that time, I am a bit excited.

My gf is taking me snowboarding for the first time and if finances permit, I will get another tat. I don't have a bed at the moment, so you can gauge my priorities at present. Very adult.

I will post more reflections as I get closer.

1:14 PM

Thinking about a second beer. I have errands to run. They'll get done. I have come to the conclusion of what the next seven months will be like. Work hard. Play hard.

To the future...

2006-02-05T18:04:00.000-08:00

As the birth of the new year brings me from darkness into light, I will be carrying the smiles of my friends who have passed on.I miss you all. Though I cannot visit your graves, I am thinking of you.

Rest in peace my friends.

There Is No Title

2006-02-01T21:12:00.000-08:00

10:12 pm

Well where the hell was I?? This morning my employer told me that the shit we do will be in columns not rows. Don't step in it.
This fecal faux pas will require my absence for the next three days.

So I took off after wishing my favorite Chinese restaurant "Happy New Year" or "I like your snow suit" (I'm stiil learning Cantonese). I stutted my way into B&N. Perusing the titles I came to realize that I could write some, well worth buying. After witnessing (and I shit you not) Thyroid for Dummies and Samurai Executive there is little doubt.

I also stopped to get a Grande Mocha. Realizing that I was standing in Coffee Hell I contemplated other versions of Hell.
What else is there to do when you are waiting for someone to make you coffee?? Hell would be the following:

1) Watching everyone you love die from an incurable disease
2) Having elderly women try and have sex with you.
3) Witnessing a speech on the cultural impact of Brittany Spears music (AHH!!)

But I digress. I look to the sky and knowing I wouldn't get an answer to my imaginary question I went home.

Carrying Permission

2006-01-26T19:32:00.000-08:00

[pic pilfered from here]

Went into the forest and met a cobra. It said that it wanted to paint my life. Its leathered skin shifted slightly in the light. I asked if it would ever bite me. It said no. I heard yes. I asked how it would paint my life. It answered that it would wind round and round and there would be slight confusion from time to time. Some unpredictable lines around and around, but nothing I could not handle. I did not want it to paint my life and said as much. But the snake would not take "no" for an answer. I took out my dagger and slowly cut out it's tongue out so it would never smell me again.

Next I met an cardinal. Feathers glowed the searing red of scalding coals. It too wanted to paint my life. I asked how it would do that. It replied that it would hold me behind it's wings. Every now and then it would paint with it's shiny yellow beak. I could paint sometimes, but only from behind the wings. And if the beak accidentally nipped me, it would be the price of art. I did not want it to paint my life and told it so. I began to walk away, but the cardinal kept putting its wings around me. I tugged on some of the featherrs. The bird yelped and backed away.

After the cardinal I met a fox. The fox wanted to paint my life. I asked if it would try and trick me. It said no. I turned my back and it turned into a swan. I asked where did the fox go and it said that a swan more suited to me. I asked how it would paint my life. It said it would watch me paint and encourage me and try to understand why I wanted others to paint my life. I asked the swan to wait for me by the edge of the forest.

I walked to the center of the forest. There I found a woman, kneeling against a stump in a veil with scarab tattooed on her throat. She was counting leaves on top of the stump. Some were green and some brown. She had sticks strewn around the leaves. I greeted her wordlessly and she nodded without turning. She told me of the tree that used to live there and about it's children. The leaves and the sticks.

"You are the tree. You are the leaves. You are the sticks.", she said. "But without water you are a seed. Where is your water??"

"I have brought no water with me nor have I been given any.", I replied.

"And why have you not dug for any??", she queried.

I was at a loss and incomplete. Why had I not dug for water?? Was I lazy?? No. I had no shovel. But I could make one or use my hands. I wouldn't know where to start looking?? What if I had dug and not found anything?? But this was a lush forest. Others had wells in the surrounding hills. Even lazy people had wells. Why did I not did for water??

The answer came to me like a fairy. Glowing and light, almost giggling in simplicity of form. Epiphany whispering on my shoulder. I thanked the woman who told me to water the seed, talk to the sapling, climb the tree, rest in the shade, and build my house nearby.

I walked to edge of the forest to paint my life, find my water and grow my tree.

Got Runover By the Bandwagon

2006-01-20T12:34:00.000-08:00

Many people these days are doing this wonderful thing which I will now coin as "statue liberation". This is when someone "liberates" a pink flamingo, garden gnome or rubber duck from someone else's property, takes it around the world and posts pictures of it in various locales. This is also known as the Traveling Gnome Prank (see also Wikipedia). One can even purchase or "adopt" a gnome at Gnomar.com. It depends on how much of a degenerate want to be.

The first official cultural hemmeroid involving inanimate plastic toys which aren't kept under your girlfriend's bed, was some marketing schmuck declaring in a metrosexual, baritone voice,"Ya know, I bet we could make this zany campaign where we take a gnome around the world and make it, like, you know, a mascot." (see Travelocity) They thought it was such a good idea that they would include merchandising. Although statistically, thongs are the best kind of marketing. Even nuns wear thongs, stats don't lie.

The next hurdle in this stunted evolution would be when someone thought it would be cool to take a Stabucks' barista doll and anthropormorphasize it with a diary (see People With Too Much Time on Their Hands). I wish there was an entry where it would have a severe mishap with fireworks leaving a gooey pancake batter-like substance. Or perhaps while shopping for some shoes it would wander into an artillary range. It could then write entries from the afterlife. The diary would then be subject to relgiious and political criticism, thereby pressuring the writer to STOP WRITING!!

The next pimple in the our culture's forehead to merit attention due to eminent bursting are stuffed animals that are "alive". Like my friend, Calzone. Though hysterical, ghetto, and with possibly gay tendencies, I wound up believing in dragons and get all choked up with this one fakes his own death. [see link on the right]

Why am I bringing this up?? Well, I thought, why not try it?? So I got a Happy Meal and received an Edmund action figure from The Chronicles of Narnia (see Christian Flicks With Centaurs Not Christ). Thinking this will be an enlightening experience, I take some pictures and leave it alone to go take a shower. Little did I realize the danger...

Aparently Plastic Boy took my credit card and got Aerosmith/Lenny Kravitz tix for himself and 5 of his friends!! I find this picture along with a note threatening me that if I go to the cops his Uncle Chucky will come looking for me.

What's the moral, kids?? Jenna Elfman may be a nutbag, but she has a point about the souls of aliens coming down to possess us and our toys!! Forewarned is forearmed. Be aware!!

Until then, Good Night and Good Luck!!

Update on the New Religion

2006-01-20T12:06:00.000-08:00

A while back (August '05) I told you all about a new religion, which has spread to many a nation on this tiny planet. The gospel of the Flying Spaghetti Monster.
I received the following petition:
Fellow Believers:

We have a problem. We're a religion without a church. We worship in our homes, individually. But we have very few resources to share our beliefs with others. We've done pretty well, spreading the Word to millions of people with access to the internet. But what about those people who don't use computers? There are entire regions in the south that haven't yet been Touched, for instance...
[The full petition can be found here]

And now, the message of Pastafarianism can be solidified in the building of His temple. To accomplish, like all religious organizations, we need money. And prostitutes...uh, pasta sauce. If you would like to contribute, please go to the online store to purchase any item or small child you wish.

Bless you.

Sabbatical Due to Slickness

2006-01-15T19:06:00.000-08:00

I will taking a typing sabbatical for several days for the following reason.

Happy Sunday.

2006-01-15T10:20:00.000-08:00

[pilfered pic]

"Walking the streets Death can take you away / It's never guaranteed that you'll see the next day / At night the evil armies of Shaitan go play / So defend the family that's the code to obey..."

Fugees, "The Score"

Happy Friday (Again)

2006-01-13T11:16:00.000-08:00

List of things I did today:

1. Stole a bagel out of an executive breakfast.
2. Updated my template and wrote two entries.
3. Ate jyo, Chinese porridge made from garlic, onions, pieces of fish and rice.
4. Ok, so I didn't have time to shower today. I trimmed my incoming beard and put on a wrinkled shirt b/c, well, it was dark. We usually have "Casual Fridays" (ah, the priviledge of our magnanimous corporate culture), but we have a client coming in so we had to dress up. So here I am - unshowered, wrinkled, and smelling like garlicky, fish.
Happy Friday!!

Paraskevidekatriaphobia

2006-01-13T09:26:00.000-08:00

Here we are again. Friday the 13th. The day upon which people attribute the most spooky stuff than any other day (except Michael Jackson's birthday). Yes, so much so that hotels eliminate the thirteenth floor, thirteen people do not sit down to dinner, less drivers on the road, changing your name so you don't have thirteen letters in it, etc. Allegedly the Knights Templar were betrayed on this day.
However, in our modern times we equate this suspicious observance with a guy in a hockey mask who just hasn't found his place in the world. Jason is really those in my generation who haven't found a vocation that speaks to him. Truly. Or he went to the Richard Ramirez School for Homocidal Development.
At any rate, conspiracy theorists do mention that the Great Seal of the United States that has 13 arrows, 13 leaves, and 13 stripes on the shield, and that those of us in league with Satan really like that number. And apparently there is some sort of witchiness aspect to the number having to do with the number of Sabbats in a year and the frequency, but unless you're really a witch...
Perhaps there is nothing really wrong with the date or the number. Perhaps it is merely people's focus attaching to it which summons and warrants the phenonmenon. Who knows.
On a side note this blog is not very controversial. For the most part because I believe that anyone has the right to believe whatever they want without being hasseled. But I think I just might go off the deep end. Topics like Abortion, Stem Cell Research, Plague, Anarchy, and Fruit Loops, may very well become common topics. I started this blog in....(gotta check)...August. What makes this blog stand out?? What can I do to enthrall my readers further?? These are NOT the most important questions in my life right now. Mutherfuckin' right!!

Enjoy the day!!

Christmas is Gone but the Birthday's Acomin'

2006-01-12T18:11:00.000-08:00

buy them here

Just Had To

2006-01-12T11:58:00.000-08:00

2006-01-10T22:42:00.000-08:00

So stands the Man in Rags.Holding his head in his hands. He cannot see with his eyes because of the clear, burning skies. Along comes a midget with a breadbox stuffed with drumsticks and asks the man,
"Is it bed time??"
When the man unconsciously nods yes, the midget taps his stick on the ground three times. Two monkeys dig their way up from [pilfered pic] the ground and beat the man with sock puppet hands.

He lays there bloody.

Three years later a small girl, who has been left under a Juniper bush by her parents because they think she's a mute is found by a woman who juggles. She teaches the girl to juggle. At first the girl is no good at it and wants to give it up. But the woman insists and tells her to keep practicing. When the girl performs this trick some laugh, some give shiny coins and bread to the woman. The girl becomes shy about her juggling and refuses to. And so the woman leaves her under a Juniper tree.

The ghost of the Man in Rags witnesses the abandoning. He posesses a small dog and brings the girl food. The girl feeds the puppy too. They walk into the forest together where they meet a deer. The small dog attacks the deer for food. Despite the girl's pleas the dog continues until the deer kills it. The girl was trying to save the dog. The dog wanted to feed the girl. Sadly she buries the dog under an acacia sapling.

The ghost of the Man in Rags spreads unheard whispers about the little girl. He believes that it was she who was responsible for his host's death. He was trying to help her. Every village she visits they mark her as a witch or a child of the Devil. Finally, the girl returns to deep in the forest.

First she builds a shelter by placing some branches over the edge of a rock. She gathers berries and sets traps for pheasant. She remembers the determination she had from jugggling. Eventually, she builds a log cabin. The girl grows to womanhood. She has many friends in the forest.

One day there is a knock at the door. It is the woman who taught her to juggle. They sit and have tea. Very little is spoken and soon the old woman takes her leave. The spirit of the Man in Rags comes in. He sees the older woman leaving. She is weeping. He wonders what that young could have done or said to upset this poor old woman. He rushes into the fire and projects flaming coals everywhere. The woman's cabin is ablaze. She watches in horror as it burns completely to the ground.

In the brief time before the sun cracks the cloak of night, the woman sees the ghost. She throws stones at it and curses at it. She asks it why he had been so cruel. The ghost explains that it is not he who has been unjust but her. She is unsure what to make of this his perspective. She continues to question the ghost about every detail. His perspective, his motivations. Why, why, why.

The midget, now an old man, is wandering down a nearby path and sees the woman talking to nothing. He slowly walks over to her and pretends to have something intimate to tell her. The woman bends down to hear. The midget blows a magic powder made up of stale corn husks, dried centipedes and other nasty stuff. "This will make her harmless", he thinks.

The woman screams and begins to tear at her flesh and clothes, then suddenly she becomes still. Her eyes grow wide and she begins to walk. In no particular direction.

The ghost follows the midget and the first change he gets, pushes him over a waterfall. The woods echo the screaming.

Quote of the Moment

2006-01-09T19:37:00.000-08:00

[pilfered pic]
"To be born in imbecility, in the midst of pain and crisis; to be the plaything of ignorance, error, need, sickness, wickedness, and passions; to return step by step to imbecility, from the time of lisping to that of doting; to live among knaves and charlatans of all kinds; to die between one man who takes your pulse and another who troubles your head; never to know where you come from, why you come and where you are going! That is what is called the most important gift of our parents and nature. Life."

-Denis Diderot

Various and Sundry Fossils

2006-01-08T15:40:00.000-08:00

Usually, I blog about things. Different types ofthings. By today I am just going to write. Because, well, it's what I do. It's what I've been doing for a long, long time. Longer than some of you have been wearing those socks on your feet. Longer than those skidmarks on your underwear. Now to the next immediate topic, should you change your underwear??

The next topic is how much should you change for someone, if at all. Considering skidmarks are low on the scale (in most countries) of attractiveness perhaps a pair of replacement panties would be in order. Short order. So when someone in your life (parent, another significant other, parole officer) asks you to change I think that proper consideration is in order. At first. And then mix that judgement with the impact it would it would have if you didn't. Or you could get drunk after you fuck it up and try to fix it in the A.M.

Right now a boulder of personal growth is staring me in the face. Like forging the sword it takes constant effort. Baby step towards the goal. I want more tattoos. In this vein, a friend of mine from my country just moved back here from there and we happened onto this very topic. We both agreed that for us, personal growth comes from physical exersion. I don't think this outlook is limited to my country or psychosis shared amongst my friends. Vampires always travel in murders.

Speaking of vampires, there are blog vampires. Did you know this?? They come in a create a blog just, like , YOURS!! They suck all your readers for every last comment and they...do other dastardly things...anyway

But, again, I digress.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I look over at my beautiful girlfriend and I think that she's all I want in the world.

A friend once told me that I work very hard at my spiritual life, which is true. Perhaps the physical world should be more my focus. It's about time.

And with that I take my leave of this post...

Men Are Pigs and Only Want ONE THING!!

2006-01-07T13:36:00.000-08:00

I was reading. Yesterday. About the many manly ways of men and their sick, twisted, nasty, perverted habits.

Here's a small list:

Men are dogs.
Men can't resist the tease
Men can't help but stare at other women
Men are big kids (and proud of it)
Men are perverts
Men would love to cheat
Men want us to worship them
Men love oral sex
Men don't take hints
Men love their penises
Men don't get Valentine's Day

The list was taken from thisarticle

Now you may ask why I am bashing my own species. Well, it's because I have been getting complaints from my female friends about their significant others. This post was just to let you all that men are like this. But not all men are like this. And some men are not like this. Clear?? Rock.

Maintaining my place on the stem, looking up at the rose Part I

2006-01-04T12:59:00.000-08:00

This madcap schizophrenia.
Hiding in the flowers.
Still cowering and doing the shuffle
Looking for a key in the same pocket thinking,
“This time they must have put it here.”

I feel I am the wheel that wants to move
I feel I must heel and heal but by Bill Kolb
I deal with steel and kneel, where am I??

Hide and seek, this Truth plays a rueful game.
Unoffered suggestion
Relaxed finger of direction
Though I try damn hard
“Oh you’re a slacker, but we won’t tell you how”

Maintaining my place on the stem, looking up at the rose Part II

2006-01-04T12:57:00.000-08:00

Draw closed the iron curtain
Wade deep into the smoked mud
Truth and Time are riddles now
Talking like Elmer Fudd

Toes and eyes brimming with love
Push and shove our way to say
“Hey, this is who I am!!
But the mirrors not working.”

Do I like it??
Will I fight it??
Don’t make me come over there.
Whilst I go walk over here.
All this mixing shakes me dizzy
Dancing in perpetual tizzy

Maintaining my place on the stem, looking up at the rose Part III

2006-01-04T12:42:00.000-08:00

Feelings like newspapers
Lengthy and daily
Hoping the news is unchanging
Only change is permanent

With the fox, spliced to paradox
Release the past, like gas and
Hang on to the flan that is the alleged future.
Can one accept happiness iffffffffffff
One does not take checks??

Now I leave this page
Taking my hat, coat and literary resolution
Meander about the dark
Going back to thoughts that
This
Is, but, a, lark.

Sword Meditation 12.30.05

2005-12-30T06:29:00.000-08:00

(pilfered pic)

Walk through the white-edged woods towards the forge. The snow sound-proofs everything and the mumbling river gets muffled as i enter the cave.

Inside this forge, tools are laid bare. Materials are plenty and segregated. I look at each and determine its purpose. Hammer, to shape. Clamps to bend. Ingots to mold, nails to carve and chisel. Leather and jewels to adorn. Wood, straw, coal for heat. And it begins.

First the heat. Make it hotter than hot. I shut my eyes until my skin reddens and all I see is white light through closed eyes. Effort, effort, constant effort. The ingot goes in the fire. For hours I burn. Throwing my unwanted, unneeded in the fire. The hammer takes away and focuses the shape. Effort, constant effort. Over and over. My mind wants to hike and make a snowman. Back to center. Back to focus.

Slowly my focus reaches the tip. I walk to the river and stand with unfinished me in hand. I place it in the chilling water next to my thighs and pray. There is no sound by the river. It is the all. I take a large stone from it for shapening.

I sharpen. The sliding of steel against the ancient rock makes a satiated cry. Birth is occurring. Over and over. Again and again. Effort, constant effort. Once the like of the sword disappears I tattoo the crest. Three words. One one side, soy gow, Cantonese for Steamed Dumplings. The other side holds symbol for Evergreen.

The handle is dipped in green and wrapped with beige leather. I don't know how to make a sheath, but it comes to me. Sew it backwards so that the seams are inside and turn it out. The lips envelope the sword and I put out the fire.

I leave the cave and into the black-lined silence.

Conclusion: Only through constant effort do we overcome fear.

Resting on Cigar Smoke for This Extra Second

2005-12-28T12:49:00.000-08:00

I found out quite a few things whilst travelling this holiday. Cattle prods are still not allowed on planes and the bathrooms at my local airport can be used as tornado shelters. Where am I again??

In my travels I overheard that the soonest return date for service people in the military is November 2006 or March 2007. I truly wish that it would be significantly sooner. Many wishes for their safe return.

Saw my family and confirmed to my GF that I am indeed a bastard (and then some). And karma, in direct and usual form, kicked my ass. I downed a several large gulps of family dysfunction. On the way back I was seated directly next to the restroom. And I almost missed my connecting flight by 5 minutes.

Ahead lies the new year. And we have an extra second to hold on to this old one. Itry to breath my life to be. So much promise in the eyes. My love and the sunrise. The things we leave behind are Monday Night Football, 20 pounds, and fear. Now to rise to potential and promise. Tenuous steps at first. Ending with triumph and transformation.

Upon this cool night, the stars rhyme with the silence. Drifting through these last days into the mark of annual birth. If time were removed from its imaginary station would this transition be noticed with such ferver. Welcome the new luck, the lessons and the hoodoo haze. Perhaps a cigar and some St.Brendan's with loved ones.

Be safe people. Best wishes for this new year.

Haloscan Injection

2005-12-26T17:32:00.000-08:00

Kids,

We, me, myself and I, are in the process of upgrading the Haloscan for various reasons. I WILL recover the comments as soon as my little brain can emerge from its fog this morning.
Thank you for your continued patience and support as we go through another transition here at TRANSITIONAL FOSSIL

The official notice:
Haloscan commenting and trackback have been added to this blog.

Out of the Office Reply

2005-12-20T10:25:00.000-08:00

Well, that wonderful season of giving and hair loss is upon us and many of you may ask, what would this Transfossil like this season. I'm a simple man. I only like to rreceive what I need. Like a toenail clipper (getting harder to put my foot in my mouth) or a wetsuit (eventually). But this year I decided to expand my tastes with the following list:

1)PlayMobile Security CheckPoint

: Nothing really reminds me of the great and free country that we live in like this security checkpoint. Yes, our nations dedication to security while still maintaining the illusion of freedom is something I want to remember. And play with. And get used to...eventually.

2) Happy Tree Friends

: When the world seems bleak and I find myself playing

I Don't Like Mondays by Tori Amos, over and over again, I want to cheer up. So I pop in a favorite episode of Happy Tree Friends and laugh myself silly til I fall off the couch. The gore is hilarious and reminds me exactly of the standards held by the MPAA.

3)As some of you can tell, I like skulls. Always have. For some strange reason the depiction of our emminent state has always held a fascination for me. So when I saw Tim Burton's Nightmare Before Christmas I was excited by the imagery. And thus I wanted to request from Sandy Claws theThe Nightmare Before Christmas Distressed Jack Scarf and Jack Skellington hoodie.

4)What would the holidays be without a little holiday cheer?? My newest, tastiest and most favorite drink right now would have to be Damiana. It’s a very, very delicious drink. Good in margaritas and for just plain sippin’. It’s kind of pricy but worth every penny. You can also make the bottle into a vase of exceptional discussionary value.

5)Being on the go as much as I am I try to keep in touch with everyone. These Razrwire Sunglasses would be of tremendous help though. But they have trouble gripping to the skull with no ears to rest on so I’d have to resort to mini suction cups.

6)Everyone likes to have something to call their own. In this case, when I want to spill something alcoholic on myself I want it to come out of something with my name on it. So I found Personalized Beer Steins.

In all seriousness, this is a time to give to others who have less than we do. It is not the amount of giving. To me it is the willingness to and the act of giving. Here are some of suggestions:

AnySoldier.com

Adopt-A-Soldier

Second Harvest

Red Feather Development Corp

National Center for Missing & Exploited Children

Shriners Hospitals

Have a nice Yule, Christmas, Chanukah, Kwanza, Festivas, Agnostic Day Off.

Throwing

2005-12-15T06:38:00.000-08:00

Quicksand
Being picked on is not a social phenomenon in America. Mine merely took the more psychological path of frustrating me and making me paranoid. My daily moistened cheeks sowed the seeds of laughter of mockery for outsiders. Evenutally, I learned the art of hate and how to project fear. It fed itself, hardening into a suit of armor. Didn't need to pick up a gun. I held the sword of sarcasm.

Rug Missing. If found...
Round the end of high school I began studying Taoism. And how surprised was I that words, actions, bullshit, just doesn't matter. Everything is immaterial and transient. This too shall fade. "Bend likea reed in the wind." What truly mattered was doing anonymous good deeds and feeding the pleasures of the belly. The hate faded and was replaced with a knowing smile.

Eventually
Discovering the jagged pieces and lush valleys of my world led to my previous present view. As a person I am laid back, subdued. Not a whole lot matters. But go out of your way to come into my circle to hurt me and you will be hurt. The problem is there is no middle ground. Assertiveness sides with the Low Self Esteeem and tends to stay in bed most days. So this leaves Yours Truly with a slow fuse and a habit of popping his top due to lack of communication.

Throwing the Clay of Personality Change
So I have become a referee (yes, joined the Dark Side) for high school wrestling. This enables me to be assertive and to think critically. At work, my boss tells me to stop being such a nice guy. All this hostility is really wasted on coaches and other people who are being hostile in the economy because they think they need to protect themselves. My question is: where does it end?? The fear of being taken advantage of?? The anger that someone has hurt you?? Is it worth all this to be forceful and angry all the time??

And somewhere in between, is me. Just tryin' to figure it out for myself. I can hardly imagine how others must feel.

Bush is just the beginning...

2005-12-08T10:35:00.000-08:00

In order to stem the tide of political stupidity, myself and my fellow citizens have stepped up to place ourselves in line to become the next leader of tomorrow - The President of the United States.

Get your position here

pilfered from Rae Ann

Coughing on the Dust From the Breath of Life

2005-12-06T11:16:00.000-08:00

From the inside out I will begin from within. I came to the very real conclusion that though I am not lazy I have been waiting. Waiting for the time when all the elements would be right and it would be safe to come out.

By the time I reached 28 I realized that this would never happen. As some have you may have read I retreated to the boy inside, emotionally, pretending to be on crutches, who could not stand on his own. This scared little boy who had been so frustrated as a child and teased that he cried. And cried until Hated came to protect the boy.
Hated and boy became friends. I grew to moderate manhood and graduated to the circle of Sarcasm; which fed itself without end.

This is from within. So stepping outside. He had some ambition, no direction. Everything was valid. He just wanted to make money. He wanted to make money. He did and didn’t. He grew in small steps over the years and stopped. Along the way he gathered and patched together the final notion that working for companies is a waste of effort. And he let go. The world seemed to let go at the same time. Let go of being human and using erasers because no one made mistakes any more. No one forgave or understood anyone they weren’t related to.

Drawing a line from the inside out is to understand ones perspective within ones world. The concepts of infinite possibility, mind over matter, karma, will, destiny, fate, process and necessary evil are the periphery to understanding. These are steps in the snow, flagstones to be uncovered by shoveling. Trying not to be the victim of my own past. Escape attempts from the hedged prison of upbringing. Rewiring the short circuits and switches and mechanisms placed inside over the years.

Where are we now?? I, am, here. Recently I was in a situation of great exhaustion. I could not leave as I was bound to stay. I had depleted my standard operating energy and partial reserves. There was nowhere to run. I was a tiny bit scared that I could not complete the task, being as physical as it was. I wanted to abandon the success I had built up through the day and say, “ah, fuck it. It’s not worth it.” But I had to stay. And I stayed. I was there a total of twelve hours on my knees, my stomach, my feet and hands. I sat down perhaps five minutes of every hour. And I finished.

Four days prior to this my Love and I had a discussion about our dispositions in life, as was sorely needed. I had made a decision to mark my place in existence. I have several endeavors to which I have pledged myself and this needs to be done. That boy needs to stand and realize that it’s ok if his ankles are weak. His knees are wobbly. He may very well fall again and again. As long as he picks himself up.

The fear is overcome by anger and focus. Why have I wasted so much time?? Why do I let the words of others carry so much weight rather than uphold my own counsel??

This is my life.

This, is my life.

This is, my life

Planetary Lotion

2005-11-28T16:46:00.000-08:00

Ok, allegedly there's a Mercury retrograde coming up around here sometime soon. And like all superstitious people I will be experiencing a wave of cleasing in my life (like when you eat a bran muffin topped with raw coconut and drinking a grape-prune juice mix). So in the spirit of this evacuation here are some interesting links that...you may find interesting...

In case you have ever wanted to make soap like in Fight Club,
you can go to this interesting article on Lunchip.com which describes their efforts in detail.

Whilst in the midst of another Internet wandering I came across the Lomographic Society International. In case you are unfamiliar with lomography it is defined [on their site] as "...the most interactiv, vivid, blurred and crazy face of photography worldwide. we heartily and most warmly invite you to dive into our unique online photo-features, to taste our cameras and -most of all- to become a lomographer. help us to simply build the biggest snapshot portrait of our planet and to revolutionize the picture communication from the hip. prost." Some cool things. Always fun to see other perspectives of the planet.

If cooking rather than lomography is more your forte, then perhaps this ancient Roman recipe site is for you. Hosted on the servers of Canegie Mellon's School of Computer Science [who knew??], there are some truly delightful and surprising concotions contained there in.

I have this thing about squirrels. I have no idea why. So whether it be Foamy from Ill Will Press or The Happy Tree Friends, I just like squirrels. Is that ok with you??!!?? And so I wanted to share my favorite online game Smacky. You have to wait for the game to load while an ad stares you down, but the game is SO worth it!! Basically, Smacky is a grumpy squirrel who doesn't wanted to be bothered by anyone. The object of the game is to beat the crap out of everyone. There are multiple moves and even an option to transform into a demon [it's complicated]. Still, my favorite online game at present.

If you're like me, you are always on the look out for alternative news services (i.e. AlterNet, IndyMedia, DailyRotten). So the newest edition to the list is Guerrilla News Network. Mission statement: Guerrilla News Network is an independent news organization with headquarters in New York City and production facilities in Berkeley, California. Our mission is to expose people to important global issues through cross-platform guerrilla programming. This, is G-N-N...

Perhaps you are interested in the progression of the art on cigar labels. I have nothing to say as it speaks for itself. Go here.
Cigar art many not exactly do it for ya. You may be the more sophisticated type who enjoys a shot of cocaine and a game of strategic intesity. For an archive of such games Abstract Strategy is the place for you.
There is a website that has a good concept, but bad products. It is Infidel Tees. They are self-describes as, “...We, at InfidelTees, decided to start a tee-shirt company with the highest quality, most affordable, solid cut and best of all, 100% American made tee shirts, thus proving a person can purchase cool tees without losing their shirt.” The word “cool” may be exaggerating it a bit. But I believe that they are open to new ideas.
Also listed under miscellaneous is the CIA Webpage for Kids. Subversion against the domestic population?? You be the judge.
And last, but certainly not least - Safe Sex. I am always a fan of people who have the patience, unlike me, to read to the bottom of a long-ass post. So in reward I give you the strange, yet...direct, safe sex ad from some place other than here. It will shock you a little bit so either prepare yourself or go snuggle with Walt Disney. Remember Don’t Sleep With a Scorpion.
This concludes our foray into nowhere. I hope you’ve enjoyed your trip. If you have any suggestions, please leave them here. Thank you for flying TransFossil.

Oh and in case you want something incredible, Michael Brown, the former director of FEMA is starting a disaster preparedness firm. Yes, here's what NOT to do. Here's the article.

Blessings and Blight A Matter of Sight

2005-11-25T10:38:00.000-08:00

Abraham Lincoln, upon instituting Thanksgiving as a national holiday, said this in part:
"It has seemed to me fit and proper that they should be solemnly, reverently, and gratefully acknowledged, as with one heart and one voice, by the whole American people. I do therefore invite my fellow-citizens in every part of the United States, and also those who are in foreign lands, to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November next as a day of thanksgiving..."
-Done at the city of Washington, this 3d day of October, A. D. 1863

And while our country is at war spending billions as people here go hungry. Whilst people in another country struggle for equality through chosen means. I feel that it is only proper and fitting that I give thanks for ALL that I have.

The happy and the sad. The broken and the complete. The fulfillment and the emptiness. The frustration and the joy. The wealth and the debt. In my life I always try and be thankful every, day for what I have. I try to always tell people I love them. I try to leave the toilet seat down. Some times I overlook my blessings and sometimes I forget. But I try to remember. I know there are people out there with less blessings and more burdens. So I try to remember that, deal with my own, and perhaps lend a hand to someone when they need it.

And I am thankful and grateful.

Four Ghosts In the White House

2005-11-18T10:46:00.000-08:00

"One night, George W. Bush is tossing restlessly in his White House bed. He awakens to see George Washington standing by him. Bush asks him, 'George, what's the best thing I can do to help the country?' 'Set an honest and honorable example, just as I did,' Washington advises, and then fades away.

The next night, Bush is astir again, and sees the ghost of Thomas Jefferson moving through the darkened bedroom. Bush calls out, 'Tom, please! What is the best thing I can do to help the country?' 'Respect the Constitution, as I did,' Jefferson advises, and dims from sight.

The third night sleep is still not in the cards for Bush. He awakens to see the ghost of FDR hovering over his bed. Bush whispers, 'Franklin, What is the best thing I can do to help the country?' 'Help the less fortunate, just as I did,' FDR replies and fades into the mist.

Bush isn't sleeping well the fourth night when he sees another figure moving in the shadows. It is the ghost of Abraham Lincoln. Bush leads, 'Abe, what is the best thing I can do right now to help the country?' Lincoln replies, 'See a play.'"

The preceding anecdote was pilfered from Rhodian Attic for your reading enjoyment.

Hee

2005-11-16T11:36:00.000-08:00

Anthropormorphizing American Politics

2005-11-14T21:23:00.000-08:00

pic pilfered from Steve Colgan

As my scholarly readers know, the big word beginning the title of this entry means to ascribe human attributes to. And since I am referring to politics which involves people..it's not much of a stretch. But can these people, involved in making decisions for the rest of us (mostly poor decisions), be merely characterized as one simple thing?? And what would that be?? Certainly, such a complex process could not be limited to a single example. Except if you are talk about lemmings.

Yes, lemmings.

The cute little creatures who sling themselves to suicide under the theory of an absentee continent (which merely masks their shame at buying Menudo records) are the perfect symbol of our present political leaders.

1) President Bush: This little critter from Texas seems to want to find the highest point from which to fling itself. I suppose that some of his future endeavors will be to blame the economy on teenagers, save social security by offering merciful beheadings, and selecting judges from the Survey-Takers of America (to boost poll ratings).

2) Dick Cheney: This fella seems to be preoccupied chasing his tail and digging some kind of hole before plunging to his death. And if you look close enough he kind of looks like a rodent-face.

3) Donald Rumsfeld: With poor eye site this fella seems to have been picked on mercilessly. He runs around like he's got rabies and truly makes no sense when attempting to explain what he does every day.

4) Pat Robertson: Keeps telling people the end is near and he maybe right, as lemmings have poor eyesight. Is also responsible for the last round of senseless slaughter after telling a furried throng that their deity was over that cliff, beyond the clouds. Though he did mention that since not all the lemmings believed him The Furried One would not save them in case of an earthquake.

5) Katie Couric: Uh...actually she has nothing to dowith politics. I just want to see her run off a cliff.

Now the reason I am writing this is because the more I see the trend of American politicians whose actions are just atrocious, dispicable and dumb. I realize more and more that they just need to finish their nosedive and crash and get it over with.

Lemmings away!!

Poppy Day

2005-11-11T14:27:00.000-08:00

As a citizen of this country I thank the men and women who guaranteed my freedom with their sacrifice.
May it never be in vain and may we always remember.

As you read this, please take a moment to think about the men and women who have laid down their lives so that you and I can say these things and feel free.

As you leave this, please take a moment to thank those who fought for us and returned.

And you go home, please pray or think about those who are still fighting and those that did not return.

My thanks to all the Vets and to the people who serve our country daily come home safe.

This Post Will Not Make Sense to You

2005-10-30T14:43:00.000-08:00

And as we come to end of perception. This two pathed precipice of right and wrong. I chew on a coffee KitKat and think of something else that does not matter.

Today I wanted to write some and thought I knew not what to write, I want to write what I don't know anyway. How do I feel?? So tired of asking this question and thinking that people noticing is going to make me happy.

I am sitting. I am reading. I am feeling the beer drain out of me and the sugar take over the veins in my legs and we sit (me, myself and I) and ponder the questions:

What are you going to do with your life and are you going to do it??
and
Will it matter??

Do you have to purchase approval from loved ones about the seal you make with your life?? What lines of consideration are worth crossing and which ones are worth crossing out?? Too many times does my mind wander to the wanderlust, the slash and burn of my scythe of cycnicism and the urge to pop 700M more Fukitol.

They know not of me and that is a good thing.
They know not of me so it is a bad thing.

I hate money.

Stomach gurgling and I step forward and backward in my world realizing that any minute I will slip into cha-chahing. Are the gods there and do they care but I know they are and I have left my scars on the altar of the past for consuption by the last person in my life who wants me "to be just like them." Run on. Run away.

It's not the holiday. It's not a fight. With the anonymity of the masks we have comes freedom of responsibility, consequence and growth. the yelling is closer and I go to the bathroom to shore up this bubble of silence. Do you believe that there was a time I was afraid to shit for more than 15 minutes in total.

I have often written of fear and it's fear of fearing my life. I have always made this vow, again and again. It's like reminding myself I have to clean the inside of my car. I'll do it tomorrow. Still waiting on all these things.

Like the wig on the back of a doorknob left too long after Halloween, the wonder grows if you wear it every day anyway just to get use out of it. Sounds of steps and the twisting "hi" and then "i'll leave you alone." I chase after my hope as she slams the door, saying "Goddamn it" under my breath in frustration of being misunderstood again. Or am I trying to please these ideas in my head again??

How far passed the edge can you go before you fall?? I guess it depends on whether or not you look down.

You will not understand this post. It will not make sense to you. It makes no sense to me. So I will just continue to be angry.

Automatic For the People

2005-10-28T19:33:00.000-07:00

pilfered img.

The other night I went to a candlelight vigil for the 2000 soldiers that had died in Iraq. The names were read aloud. I handed out flyers and thanked people for coming. Ninety names were printed out and a single candle was placed on them. I read one name. A man from Florida.

I walked the rows of names of these people. Men. Women. Soldiers. People who died for me without asking. People who died for me when they shouldn't have. And I felt responsible. I felt anger and I wept.

And I wanted to do something. But there was nothing to be done. What can you do??

You can vote differently. You can tell every single person that this is wrong. You can introduce legislation to say that when the president goes to war he can only do it with the permission of the people. But will these do??

I've given this link before, it's the breakdown of causualties for the Iraq Coalition Casualities.

We travel through this desert of life in bands of by ourselves. The trail we leave behind will be erased by erosion. But it is the depth of our marks which may last for others to see. Either hear on Earth or from the sky.

To the government:
...As the polls close like a casket
On truth devoured
Silent play in the shadow of power
A spectacle monopolized
The cameras eyes on choice disguised
Was it cast for the mass who burn and toil?
Or for the vultures who thirst for blood and oil?
Yes a spectacle monopolized
They hold the reins, stole your eyes
All the fistagons the bullets and bombs
Who stuff the banks
Who staff the party ranks...
by Rage Against the Machine.

There are two movies which are coming out which I suggest you see.
The War Within and V for Vendetta.

"PEOPLE SHOULD NOT BE AFRAID OF THEIR GOVERNMENT. GOVERNMENTS SHOULD BE AFRAID OF THEIR PEOPLE."