Like most nights, I woke up around 4:00 a.m., stayed up for another couple of hours rolling around in bed, then finally fell back asleep around dawn. It was this three hour period of sleep where I had one of the most intense dreams I've had in a long time — months, if not at least a year or longer.
Dreams are fickle things... They're fleeting experiences that are hard to recapture or record the longer you go after you've experienced it. But what I do remember is sitting down at an upright piano, playing around with the keys like I normally do. Being untrained, I pick away at individual notes and try to build a chord from scratch and then move them around until I find something soothing. Except in this case, I was doing this for a few minutes and suddenly, I knew how to play. I was playing the most beautiful, ethereal stuff. I couldn't believe it.
And then when I turned around, I realized that I was visiting with my mom. It seemed like it must have been a holiday — perhaps Christmas or New Years. I can't remember what was said, if anything, but I remember being in her presence. It felt really nice and peaceful. My mom and I were often in conflict when we spent too much time together, but this experience felt very healing and peaceful.
Later at some point, I'm not sure when, I found myself at the house of a former music colleague and figurehead. I was there with another old friend—someone who walked away from this stuff as I did. We sat there together, chatting. Again, there was a reason to be there; some type of holiday. But just being there in my old friend's presence was very healing and nice.
Eventually, I found myself with my former bandmates. I believe we were practicing together. It was for the first time in 15 years. We were going to being playing a show. Suddenly, I found myself in the crowd at this show, watching the biggest band in the scene, playing on stage with countless people from the old days. There was almost a carnival feeling to it, with a marching band, drummers, strings, and horns.
I just felt so overwhelmed by everything that I burst into tears in my dream. When my alarm did finally go off, I struggled to wake up, but when I opened my eyes, I noticed they were wet. I guess I had also been crying in my sleep as well.
Wednesday, May 29, 2019
Thursday, September 13, 2018
Looking for miracles
Please Lord, give me strength. Allow enough light to lead me along the path to salvation. Only your grace and love will ensure a safe passage.
Thank you for your blessings. My life has been filled with the bounty of your compassion. I trust you to guide me, my shepherd, for I am lost and afraid I no longer know the way to the safety and comfort of the Holy Spirit.
Thank you for your blessings. My life has been filled with the bounty of your compassion. I trust you to guide me, my shepherd, for I am lost and afraid I no longer know the way to the safety and comfort of the Holy Spirit.
Monday, April 23, 2018
April 23
I'd really like to start fresh somewhere. I really think about it a lot. I've spent so much time thinking about it that I actually went through the motions of deep cleaning my house and listing it for sale. The idea of being able to cash out and move on and find financial independence and freedom somewhere else felt like something that was giving me a reason to dig in and just keep pushing on. It just really felt like the universe has been pushing me to just make a big dramatic change and move on. And if there were any real time to do it, it felt like this was my chance.
During the process, a lot of little things went wrong. There were some things that weren't in my control and I couldn't spend too much energy sweating it, although I still did. During the process, I got an interesting glimpse into the way these things go and the different games and strategies all of the different players use to try and get the best terms for themselves. But I also had this real fear of wondering if I was making a huge mistake. I was humbled and despite my real struggle to push on and feel better about life, I gained a new appreciation for what I have and how in a lot of ways, I might be able to make this stuff all work out for me in the end.
I finally decided that holding is the best option for now. There are a lot of reasons for this decision... high commission fees, taxes, and the reality of being priced out of this area if I did sell and decided that I wanted to buy here again. I have a lot of options, and there are benefits to them all, but when I think about my future and what kind of life I ultimately want, I think that I have to start viewing my house as my main source of stability and income. While I was preparing my house for sale, I was also thinking about what kind of career I want and what type of jobs I should start applying to. And the reality is, is that I'm not sure if I'm really fit for the workplace. And the few things that I am good at and would like to continue doing, I just don't see people wanting to give me a chance.
Ultimately, careers (at least in the way I've been conditioned) are about sustenance with self-fulfillment as a side effect if you're lucky. But ultimately, you have to not only learn how to play the game like everyone else, but you have to embrace it and thrive in it. I just don't feel that I'm cut out for it. It's incredible to think about how much I've turned into my mom as I progress in life. She always hated work. When she was diagnosed with cancer, just being able to move back home to Reevesville and live the remainder of her life on disability and not have to work another day of the remainder of her life was such a huge relief for her.
And I think about a lot of the struggles that she went through when it comes to workplace politics, jockeying for position in life, all while trying to sustain a dignified life. But it all seems so much more complicated today. I've been lucky to have a lot of opportunities and privileges, but it really does feel like more than ever, I have to look inward for my own self satisfaction and survival than to an employer. I think as much as I have been lucky, I've also been dealt a fair share of bad luck. That combined with my inability to rationally and unemotionally navigate a lot of tough situations have knocked me on my ass time and time again.
I've been drawn towards the church again lately. There's something so purely therapeutic about the rituals, the architecture, the lighting, the music... I went to church twice during Holy Week (the plan was to go every day), and on the second night in a row of mass, I started crying uncontrollably in the line to kiss the cross. I think about all of the suffering we go through on a regular basis. I think about the suffering my mom went through. I think about the suffering my grandparents had to endure. I think about where I came from and where I am now and just feel that I'm still missing a lot. I ended up having to step out of line to go to the bathroom to collect myself. My nose started bleeding while I was standing in line, crying like a broken man. I was a complete mess.
But I guess these are the moments when we find God. When we're completely and utterly stripped to the core and emotionally raw from all of the trauma (external and internal) that we've had to bear. I do think that the love of Christ and the love of the holy spirit is enough to live for. There's a reason why these texts, beliefs, and rituals have been passed down from generation to generation. I think when you look at it as a philosophy of peace—internal peace and trying to bring peace on Earth, that it's a very noble faith. We live in a world of self-worship, and despite the moral superiority many people project, it's very self-serving in a vain sense. It's something that I just can't stomach anymore.
I'm not exactly sure what my next step is, but I think just trying to maintain some semblance of stability while trying to find peace is good goal to have. I do believe that I have to do much better though, for myself, for my friends, peers, in the work I do. It's unfair to myself and to my mom's spirit to take all of these gifts and opportunities for granted. I certainly wish things could be easier. I know we all do. This stuff takes time. I just have to remember that we are all created in the image of God. Even those who do harm to us. Every person is fundamentally flawed. I know I certainly am. I just really ready for healing and some peace.
During the process, a lot of little things went wrong. There were some things that weren't in my control and I couldn't spend too much energy sweating it, although I still did. During the process, I got an interesting glimpse into the way these things go and the different games and strategies all of the different players use to try and get the best terms for themselves. But I also had this real fear of wondering if I was making a huge mistake. I was humbled and despite my real struggle to push on and feel better about life, I gained a new appreciation for what I have and how in a lot of ways, I might be able to make this stuff all work out for me in the end.
I finally decided that holding is the best option for now. There are a lot of reasons for this decision... high commission fees, taxes, and the reality of being priced out of this area if I did sell and decided that I wanted to buy here again. I have a lot of options, and there are benefits to them all, but when I think about my future and what kind of life I ultimately want, I think that I have to start viewing my house as my main source of stability and income. While I was preparing my house for sale, I was also thinking about what kind of career I want and what type of jobs I should start applying to. And the reality is, is that I'm not sure if I'm really fit for the workplace. And the few things that I am good at and would like to continue doing, I just don't see people wanting to give me a chance.
Ultimately, careers (at least in the way I've been conditioned) are about sustenance with self-fulfillment as a side effect if you're lucky. But ultimately, you have to not only learn how to play the game like everyone else, but you have to embrace it and thrive in it. I just don't feel that I'm cut out for it. It's incredible to think about how much I've turned into my mom as I progress in life. She always hated work. When she was diagnosed with cancer, just being able to move back home to Reevesville and live the remainder of her life on disability and not have to work another day of the remainder of her life was such a huge relief for her.
And I think about a lot of the struggles that she went through when it comes to workplace politics, jockeying for position in life, all while trying to sustain a dignified life. But it all seems so much more complicated today. I've been lucky to have a lot of opportunities and privileges, but it really does feel like more than ever, I have to look inward for my own self satisfaction and survival than to an employer. I think as much as I have been lucky, I've also been dealt a fair share of bad luck. That combined with my inability to rationally and unemotionally navigate a lot of tough situations have knocked me on my ass time and time again.
I've been drawn towards the church again lately. There's something so purely therapeutic about the rituals, the architecture, the lighting, the music... I went to church twice during Holy Week (the plan was to go every day), and on the second night in a row of mass, I started crying uncontrollably in the line to kiss the cross. I think about all of the suffering we go through on a regular basis. I think about the suffering my mom went through. I think about the suffering my grandparents had to endure. I think about where I came from and where I am now and just feel that I'm still missing a lot. I ended up having to step out of line to go to the bathroom to collect myself. My nose started bleeding while I was standing in line, crying like a broken man. I was a complete mess.
But I guess these are the moments when we find God. When we're completely and utterly stripped to the core and emotionally raw from all of the trauma (external and internal) that we've had to bear. I do think that the love of Christ and the love of the holy spirit is enough to live for. There's a reason why these texts, beliefs, and rituals have been passed down from generation to generation. I think when you look at it as a philosophy of peace—internal peace and trying to bring peace on Earth, that it's a very noble faith. We live in a world of self-worship, and despite the moral superiority many people project, it's very self-serving in a vain sense. It's something that I just can't stomach anymore.
I'm not exactly sure what my next step is, but I think just trying to maintain some semblance of stability while trying to find peace is good goal to have. I do believe that I have to do much better though, for myself, for my friends, peers, in the work I do. It's unfair to myself and to my mom's spirit to take all of these gifts and opportunities for granted. I certainly wish things could be easier. I know we all do. This stuff takes time. I just have to remember that we are all created in the image of God. Even those who do harm to us. Every person is fundamentally flawed. I know I certainly am. I just really ready for healing and some peace.
Wednesday, January 17, 2018
Malaise for Days or another Chicago winter
Well, it finally happened. I was finally pushed out.
I took some time off to visit family and friends but I haven't been able to think about anything else since getting back after Christmas. I can't help but to think about how they timed it—how I was in a meeting with my colleagues one minute and then just minutes later, I'm no longer a colleague. And how they ambushed me in a video chat with a prepared statement and with someone from HR watching over it. And how they intentionally pushed me out before word of the union spread and before I had a chance to get involved with it. In the weeks prior, I had specifically reached out to two colleagues, pleading to them that we ban together and go to management with our shared grievances, but they were too afraid to make waves. But yet, just a few weeks later, many of them became major advocates and proponents of the union.
When I think about the experience I had with management, I can't help but to feel sick. It's disgusting how conniving and how manipulating and how calculating my manager was. I am deeply disappointed in myself for allowing myself to go through it for as long as I did.
I knew there was never going to be a going away party for me. I knew that I was never going to get a thank you from them in the end.
I didn't expect that they would be so malicious towards me in the way they did it. I hope you're happy.
I took some time off to visit family and friends but I haven't been able to think about anything else since getting back after Christmas. I can't help but to think about how they timed it—how I was in a meeting with my colleagues one minute and then just minutes later, I'm no longer a colleague. And how they ambushed me in a video chat with a prepared statement and with someone from HR watching over it. And how they intentionally pushed me out before word of the union spread and before I had a chance to get involved with it. In the weeks prior, I had specifically reached out to two colleagues, pleading to them that we ban together and go to management with our shared grievances, but they were too afraid to make waves. But yet, just a few weeks later, many of them became major advocates and proponents of the union.
When I think about the experience I had with management, I can't help but to feel sick. It's disgusting how conniving and how manipulating and how calculating my manager was. I am deeply disappointed in myself for allowing myself to go through it for as long as I did.
I knew there was never going to be a going away party for me. I knew that I was never going to get a thank you from them in the end.
I didn't expect that they would be so malicious towards me in the way they did it. I hope you're happy.
Monday, October 16, 2017
October
At this point, it's very clear to me that God/the universe has plans for me. I've always struggled with submission but I've never been so ready and so excited to submit. The love I have felt in the last few days has been so real and so overwhelming.
A couple of weekends ago, my friend invited me to a gallery opening/poetry reading here in the neighborhood. The poems and stories about struggling in Chicago really hit me hard. About how this city can be so Janus-faced. There's a real beauty to Chicago, but people here know suffering well. Of course, there are those who suffer much more, but nevertheless, I've always felt like suffering and exhaustion is a common thread for Chicagoans.
But there's so much more to it. The people here who have followed me along the way and have seen me grow up will always be there for me. It means a lot. To have people who will do anything for you and stand by you no matter what. The pain of suffering immediately transforms into a very real and sincere gratitude. The kind that makes you weep in public from feeling loved by those people who haven't given up on their city and haven't given up on you.
But there's someone else now too. I think it's another part of the plan. It's amazing how things can sometimes just happen when you least expect it. And this has been a recurring theme in the last several weeks.
I feel emotionally raw and vulnerable right now, but it's also this feeling of shedding a skin of my former self. The next chapter is beginning and I'm prepared for a rebirth. It's exciting. There's no time to remain idle. God has show himself to me in recent weeks and I have to follow the lead.
Sunday, September 17, 2017
Autumnal
What happens when you're so burned out on everything and you feel like you have nothing left to push you through another few hard weeks? An abrupt escape is not impossible, but it's not exactly practical. So instead, we just keep drudging along through more restless nights and soul-killing days.
I spent a lot of time this week and weekend looking at classified ads for camper vans and real estate listings for houses in northern Wisconsin. I recently got a letter in the mail from my grandfather's estate attorney saying that I should be receiving some money next year and all I can think about it how that could help liberate me for at least a little while. I just imagine what it would be like to just wake up near the mountains and go for a hike with my dog then climb into the van in the evening and drive all night to California.
For months I've felt so distant from myself. I just don't feel like I'll ever be the same. I don't know if it's too late for me yet or not but I somehow keep trying. I recently had what I was hoping would be a new opportunity to do something in the community and also rejuvenate my love for Chicago, but it didn't work out. I got the news this past week while I was managing the daily duties of my job solo while also juggling a million other things.
I'm so burned out that when I do finally get into deep sleep, I wake up for a moment and I'm not sure where I'm at or whats going on. It's not like this lucid kind of rest where I feel refreshed and energized for the day. It's the kind of thing where I wake up and I can't wait to be back in bed later that evening. It's like I just want to press the fast forward button on what are supposed to be the best years of my life.
But I've gone to a number of events lately and have been thinking about taking a trip by myself. It gets really hard after a while when you're so alone for so long. I passed by the farmers market today and didn't really feel anything. It used to be that when I passed it, I always had this gemutlich pang seeing all of the happy couples together spending their Sunday morning at the market and planning their dinner for the evening. It's something that I felt like I always wanted but never did. I'm 31 now and I wonder if I'll ever have that type of relationship.
I was thinking today about what my financial outlook is like and how things would be if I suddenly put in my notice and had nothing else lined up. The issue is that it's just not financially possible to do that. I listed my second bedroom on Airbnb and have been trying to sell my car to help build a cushion for myself but I also just don't know if doing those things are going to be worth it either. Hence why I keep going back to this idea of selling the house and buying something else outright in cash, using it as a vacation rental, then taking that income to fund my dream of being a vagrant with my dog.
I've been in numerous other bad situations and hard times but somehow managed to get through them. The difference this time is that I just feel so alone in my hardships that I don't feel like I have the energy or drive to really push through anymore. It's like I feel like I've finally been defeated. And it's a really depressing thing. I somehow keep ending up in situations where my life is dictated by abusive people. Abusive bandmates, absent family members, and an abusive boss. Basically every job I've had with the exception of a couple of internships and other temporary gigs, I've been forced to work under a psychologically abusive supervisor. I just can't do it anymore.
It feels like I'm dying a slow, painful death in front of my friends, family and colleagues and no one cares. I don't know what the next few months hold for me but I know I need to make a big move to reclaim my life otherwise, I don't know what else could eventually happen. Thank god for my dog.
I know things aren't supposed to be easy. I know that people are busy with their own issues and their own lives. But there's something about living in this city and working this job and living in this day and age that is so tiring and alienating and draining and destabilizing. It makes you really wonder if you'll ever find yourself and find happiness ever again. And that's sad.
I spent a lot of time this week and weekend looking at classified ads for camper vans and real estate listings for houses in northern Wisconsin. I recently got a letter in the mail from my grandfather's estate attorney saying that I should be receiving some money next year and all I can think about it how that could help liberate me for at least a little while. I just imagine what it would be like to just wake up near the mountains and go for a hike with my dog then climb into the van in the evening and drive all night to California.
For months I've felt so distant from myself. I just don't feel like I'll ever be the same. I don't know if it's too late for me yet or not but I somehow keep trying. I recently had what I was hoping would be a new opportunity to do something in the community and also rejuvenate my love for Chicago, but it didn't work out. I got the news this past week while I was managing the daily duties of my job solo while also juggling a million other things.
I'm so burned out that when I do finally get into deep sleep, I wake up for a moment and I'm not sure where I'm at or whats going on. It's not like this lucid kind of rest where I feel refreshed and energized for the day. It's the kind of thing where I wake up and I can't wait to be back in bed later that evening. It's like I just want to press the fast forward button on what are supposed to be the best years of my life.
But I've gone to a number of events lately and have been thinking about taking a trip by myself. It gets really hard after a while when you're so alone for so long. I passed by the farmers market today and didn't really feel anything. It used to be that when I passed it, I always had this gemutlich pang seeing all of the happy couples together spending their Sunday morning at the market and planning their dinner for the evening. It's something that I felt like I always wanted but never did. I'm 31 now and I wonder if I'll ever have that type of relationship.
I was thinking today about what my financial outlook is like and how things would be if I suddenly put in my notice and had nothing else lined up. The issue is that it's just not financially possible to do that. I listed my second bedroom on Airbnb and have been trying to sell my car to help build a cushion for myself but I also just don't know if doing those things are going to be worth it either. Hence why I keep going back to this idea of selling the house and buying something else outright in cash, using it as a vacation rental, then taking that income to fund my dream of being a vagrant with my dog.
I've been in numerous other bad situations and hard times but somehow managed to get through them. The difference this time is that I just feel so alone in my hardships that I don't feel like I have the energy or drive to really push through anymore. It's like I feel like I've finally been defeated. And it's a really depressing thing. I somehow keep ending up in situations where my life is dictated by abusive people. Abusive bandmates, absent family members, and an abusive boss. Basically every job I've had with the exception of a couple of internships and other temporary gigs, I've been forced to work under a psychologically abusive supervisor. I just can't do it anymore.
It feels like I'm dying a slow, painful death in front of my friends, family and colleagues and no one cares. I don't know what the next few months hold for me but I know I need to make a big move to reclaim my life otherwise, I don't know what else could eventually happen. Thank god for my dog.
I know things aren't supposed to be easy. I know that people are busy with their own issues and their own lives. But there's something about living in this city and working this job and living in this day and age that is so tiring and alienating and draining and destabilizing. It makes you really wonder if you'll ever find yourself and find happiness ever again. And that's sad.
Monday, October 3, 2016
meaning of nothingness
I've been getting to that point lately where I feel like I can't go through a week without having a major crisis. Last week was a very disheartening one for various reasons. I've gotten to the point where I just feel like I can't trust certain people and that putting in extra effort really does nothing to improve my current status/situation.
It's Saturday. So I'm slowly getting up, finally put some shorts on and let the dog out. I'm just taking my time waking up. Turn on the coffee maker, pour out a bowl of cereal—the usual. It's a gray day and I'm just not really feeling up for anything. I have a wedding reception later in the night, but I'm just trying to hang out and not really think about anything. I go outside to bring the dog back in but I figured I'd check to see if the mail came. And on my front steps is a dead bird. And it's not like it just so happened to die there, someone placed it there.
People who know me very well know that I'm pretty superstitious. And I've always had this thing about coming across dead birds. I feel like it's a sign that something very serious is on the horizon. Of course my heart sank when I saw it. And then I thought, why? Why would someone do this? I've already been feeling so depressed that I'm ready to just walk away from humanity, but this was salt in the wound. So I grabbed some latex gloves and a plastic bag and picked it up, along with the piles of garbage that people just throw in front of my house. Having a bus stop in front of my house means that my bushes are the garbage can for public trans riders.
I take the dog to the dog park and then swing by a friend's house to grab the present I wanted to give to my friends who are getting married. Then I go home and start getting ready. I wasn't invited to the ceremony or dinner, but I was invited to the reception. I figured, maybe they just wanted a small ceremony, no big deal. When I arrived, I was one of maybe just a few people who showed up just for the reception. Everybody was already there. It just felt really weird. I walked in during the best man's toast. Everyone was really happy and seemed to be really feeling the moment. I was outside of the little building looking in. There were these bars in the window. I felt like I was locked out while everyone was inside having a great time. It was very weird.
When I was finally able to get in and say hi to people, it was like this thing where it just seemed like, "Oh. You're here." I don't know why. I guess I feel like I'm just projecting my own insecurity. People have been leaving me out on things at work, and it's been really eating away at me. It's been really getting to me on a deep, psychological level. Anyways, it was real nice and I talked with some folks for a little while, left my gift, and ended up going home.
Over the next day or so, people kept sharing photos of the ceremony and how cute and nice it was. And in this day and age, when it comes to weddings and big life events, this stuff is going to be all over social media for days. Everyone was there, having a great time. And then, the pain of last summer came rushing back—when my old band got back together to play Riot Fest and no one told me about it. People were posting photos of the band playing, and the big crowd that attended, and it just seemed like everyone I knew was there and they were all having a great time. I was there to write those songs and record them, but when they were playing that festival I was just sitting at home, feeling miserable and depressed about the situation. It was a very real despair, and it still pains me to think about it.
I realize we're all just trying to get through life and find our own way, but I'm beginning to truly believe that I've peaked and that things are only going to get worse from here. It's really depressing to think about. I used to be fit, ambitious, curious about the world, I had so much energy to go and do things and meet new people. Now, I just don't want anything to do with people. I feel like the same things happen over and over and over and over... I don't really know what's supposed to come next for me.
Today during the afternoon, my one coworker who I'm very close with told me that her husband's dad is very sick and she just found out. I immediately thought about the dead bird on my steps. I was wondering, "Was that what that was all about?" Of course, I feel awful for her and I really hope for the best. I was just in that situation last summer and it's not fun.
For me, when I go through hard times, I'm truly alone. I don't have a partner, I don't have roommates, I don't have a mom, my dad could really give a shit about what happens to me, my family in South Carolina all despise me for some reason. And it gets really, really hard. I really understand what my mom went through for so long and now I truly understand why she just never had any passion or will to live. And I feel like that's just how I'm going to be. I've already pretty much given up on dating. My house is a huge money pit and I still don't really feel like it's "home" for me yet. I tried to call a friend tonight and he sent it to voicemail after a couple of rings. A few days ago I tried to call a different friend. It went to voicemail, although he did message me back. He never called me back though.
I really do feel like there's nothing more for me here. I just don't know what to do anymore. I've been rotting away on the inside for so long, I don't know if I'll ever be able to repair myself or fully heal. I think if I am going to try to live this life, I have to make a dramatic change. I'm tired of always feeling so unwanted. I just can't believe that this is what my life has come to. It really, really sucks. I'm honestly very disappointed in myself that I'm not in a better situation and that I've allowed myself to become what I am. And maybe this is why no one wants anything to do with me. Maybe they feel the same way. They see the shell of the person they used to be friends with.
But who really knows... The sun always rises though. There will always be tomorrow.
It's Saturday. So I'm slowly getting up, finally put some shorts on and let the dog out. I'm just taking my time waking up. Turn on the coffee maker, pour out a bowl of cereal—the usual. It's a gray day and I'm just not really feeling up for anything. I have a wedding reception later in the night, but I'm just trying to hang out and not really think about anything. I go outside to bring the dog back in but I figured I'd check to see if the mail came. And on my front steps is a dead bird. And it's not like it just so happened to die there, someone placed it there.
People who know me very well know that I'm pretty superstitious. And I've always had this thing about coming across dead birds. I feel like it's a sign that something very serious is on the horizon. Of course my heart sank when I saw it. And then I thought, why? Why would someone do this? I've already been feeling so depressed that I'm ready to just walk away from humanity, but this was salt in the wound. So I grabbed some latex gloves and a plastic bag and picked it up, along with the piles of garbage that people just throw in front of my house. Having a bus stop in front of my house means that my bushes are the garbage can for public trans riders.
I take the dog to the dog park and then swing by a friend's house to grab the present I wanted to give to my friends who are getting married. Then I go home and start getting ready. I wasn't invited to the ceremony or dinner, but I was invited to the reception. I figured, maybe they just wanted a small ceremony, no big deal. When I arrived, I was one of maybe just a few people who showed up just for the reception. Everybody was already there. It just felt really weird. I walked in during the best man's toast. Everyone was really happy and seemed to be really feeling the moment. I was outside of the little building looking in. There were these bars in the window. I felt like I was locked out while everyone was inside having a great time. It was very weird.
When I was finally able to get in and say hi to people, it was like this thing where it just seemed like, "Oh. You're here." I don't know why. I guess I feel like I'm just projecting my own insecurity. People have been leaving me out on things at work, and it's been really eating away at me. It's been really getting to me on a deep, psychological level. Anyways, it was real nice and I talked with some folks for a little while, left my gift, and ended up going home.
Over the next day or so, people kept sharing photos of the ceremony and how cute and nice it was. And in this day and age, when it comes to weddings and big life events, this stuff is going to be all over social media for days. Everyone was there, having a great time. And then, the pain of last summer came rushing back—when my old band got back together to play Riot Fest and no one told me about it. People were posting photos of the band playing, and the big crowd that attended, and it just seemed like everyone I knew was there and they were all having a great time. I was there to write those songs and record them, but when they were playing that festival I was just sitting at home, feeling miserable and depressed about the situation. It was a very real despair, and it still pains me to think about it.
I realize we're all just trying to get through life and find our own way, but I'm beginning to truly believe that I've peaked and that things are only going to get worse from here. It's really depressing to think about. I used to be fit, ambitious, curious about the world, I had so much energy to go and do things and meet new people. Now, I just don't want anything to do with people. I feel like the same things happen over and over and over and over... I don't really know what's supposed to come next for me.
Today during the afternoon, my one coworker who I'm very close with told me that her husband's dad is very sick and she just found out. I immediately thought about the dead bird on my steps. I was wondering, "Was that what that was all about?" Of course, I feel awful for her and I really hope for the best. I was just in that situation last summer and it's not fun.
For me, when I go through hard times, I'm truly alone. I don't have a partner, I don't have roommates, I don't have a mom, my dad could really give a shit about what happens to me, my family in South Carolina all despise me for some reason. And it gets really, really hard. I really understand what my mom went through for so long and now I truly understand why she just never had any passion or will to live. And I feel like that's just how I'm going to be. I've already pretty much given up on dating. My house is a huge money pit and I still don't really feel like it's "home" for me yet. I tried to call a friend tonight and he sent it to voicemail after a couple of rings. A few days ago I tried to call a different friend. It went to voicemail, although he did message me back. He never called me back though.
I really do feel like there's nothing more for me here. I just don't know what to do anymore. I've been rotting away on the inside for so long, I don't know if I'll ever be able to repair myself or fully heal. I think if I am going to try to live this life, I have to make a dramatic change. I'm tired of always feeling so unwanted. I just can't believe that this is what my life has come to. It really, really sucks. I'm honestly very disappointed in myself that I'm not in a better situation and that I've allowed myself to become what I am. And maybe this is why no one wants anything to do with me. Maybe they feel the same way. They see the shell of the person they used to be friends with.
But who really knows... The sun always rises though. There will always be tomorrow.
Wednesday, August 10, 2016
Life has gotten away from me lately. It's so strange how time seems to move fast as you age. We're not old yet, but we're old enough to know what it's like to love, lose, struggle, and feel happy. I look back on where I was a year ago—I'm certainly in a much different place, but things are mostly the same really. And then the year before then. It's really kind of been this game of just trying to keep the ship steady. The winner is the one who can just keep their head above water, much less really thrive. And the weird thing is so many people around me are truly thriving. They've put themselves out there, they've made a big move, they've paid their dues, but the most important thing is that they followed their heart and did what they loved. I think there's a lot to be said about those who do what makes them happy and then seeing how all of the cards fall into the right places. And then there are those of us who force themselves into this portrait of what they think a responsible and well adjusted adult is supposed to be. It's like that one weird puzzle piece that just wasn't cut very cleanly and you know it fits in a certain spot but it just doesn't want to go in easily. It's like that when you suppress yourself and suppress your dreams and just try to be another forgettable piece of the puzzle.
I've been thinking a lot about how I need to just accept the things I can't control. And it's really just way too many things. Things are going to break in this old house. It's an old house. People are going to disrespect you and walk on you—that's just how life is. Money is going to be tight. Money is always going to be tight. Even when you're making more, you find more things to spend it on and then you're back to where you were ten years ago when you were living with a bunch of roommates and eating burritos every night to get by. There are a lot of things in the environment that we can't control. The violence, the apathy, the evil nature of some people, some institutions, and some places. And in some ways, by letting go of control, we start to let go of our ambition, and let go of our love for life, and the creativity and passion that once inspired us and made us who we were and attracted others to us.
It's like there really is a half-life on youth. As the years progress, you lose the ability to be spontaneous and lose the inhibition that may have caused you to put yourself out there and try something new or to learn something about yourself and the world and how you fit into the world. It is necessary to grow up, but it's not exactly necessary to become so detached to yourself and any previous happiness and love for life that you may have once had. But the daily hurdles do become more exhausting and being alone with your thoughts for so long does take its toll. It really takes the edges off, but the edges were what made us interesting in the first place.
I've been thinking a lot about the Holy Spirit and been trying to find comfort in a knowing that I'm only one soul in a world with billions. No matter what happens to us, the Earth will keep spinning. It always seems to have, and unless we completely destroy Mother Nature, it always will. We carry the sprits of our friends and family and even our pets with us through life. We carry the memories we have of them, we carry the thoughts that they planted in our minds, we carry the heartbreak and uplifting moments that we've shared. And to me, I guess this energy and this feeling of how powerful love can be is the Holy Spirit. A lot of people say that they don't believe in God. And to them, I have to ask "Have you ever been in love?" And I'm not talking about a middle school infatuation or high school romance, but real love. The kind that is healing and makes us stronger as people. Have you ever been in love and had that sensation where you feel it in your chest and it radiates throughout your body? That's God. God is love.
In a world where self worship is so rampant and has become such the norm, it's hard to find that kind of love and it's hard to give that kind of love. But for some reason, that hope of finding it and having it seems to be enough to keep many of us going. I think it's entirely possible to find paradise on earth. Love and peace are the only keys that will open the figurative garden of paradise. May we all find our way there and celebrate when we do finally make it.
Saturday, January 3, 2015
Saturday, July 5, 2014
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
Dead Bird on the Doorstep
Need to run a couple of errands.
Having a party for one.
Need to run over to the party store to get a helium tank.
Need to run to the hardware store for a plastic hose and some fittings.
Need to do some laundry, so I have decent clothes to wear.
It is a party for one.
Need to dig up some quarters.
Ignore the letter from the IRS.
Haven't paid rent yet, the unemployment doesn't quite cover it.
Not much time left for planning.
Need to get some party favors, and hors d'oeuvres.
Need to go to a store that takes foodstamps.
Just had a birthday.
Mom said she has cancer.
Girlfriend is kind of there for me, half of the time.
But this is a party for one.
No good news today.
A dead bird lay on the doorstep as I walked in.
Thinking it might be time for a change.
Need to drop off my apartment clutter at the charity.
Or give some of it away to friends.
Give them a token of my friendship.
Need to get some sleep.
Been sleeping too much.
Need to get some exercise.
Need to get a haircut.
Need to shave.
Need to clean the floors and the kitchen and bathroom sinks.
Need to brush the cats.
Tell them how much I love them.
Fill the plastic balloon with helium and take a nap.
Having a party for one.
Need to run over to the party store to get a helium tank.
Need to run to the hardware store for a plastic hose and some fittings.
Need to do some laundry, so I have decent clothes to wear.
It is a party for one.
Need to dig up some quarters.
Ignore the letter from the IRS.
Haven't paid rent yet, the unemployment doesn't quite cover it.
Not much time left for planning.
Need to get some party favors, and hors d'oeuvres.
Need to go to a store that takes foodstamps.
Just had a birthday.
Mom said she has cancer.
Girlfriend is kind of there for me, half of the time.
But this is a party for one.
No good news today.
A dead bird lay on the doorstep as I walked in.
Thinking it might be time for a change.
Need to drop off my apartment clutter at the charity.
Or give some of it away to friends.
Give them a token of my friendship.
Need to get some sleep.
Been sleeping too much.
Need to get some exercise.
Need to get a haircut.
Need to shave.
Need to clean the floors and the kitchen and bathroom sinks.
Need to brush the cats.
Tell them how much I love them.
Fill the plastic balloon with helium and take a nap.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
The world is a very big place. And now we have have 7 billion of us, occupying the same space. How we will all find our place in this world? Assuming that there is a place for each of us.
And to think it all came from a dense mass of energy and light that could fit neatly in a matchbox and into your pocket. Then the big bang, the universe was set in motion.
When I think about the days anymore, they seem to just come and pass without much to them. I start on Monday, and close my eyes and it's now next Monday. Sitting on the train, staring into expressionless faces and the sleepyheads trying to squeeze in one more hour of rest before a long day. For instance, the janitor who cleans the bathroom in the office has no sign of youth or life left in him. In passing, you can't see his pupils. You have to stand right in front of him, at face level, to look into his soul. And even then, there's hardly any spark left in his old bones. So he stands there and waits for everyone to finish shitting. Then he gets to work.
This is what I think about when I'm asked by a potential employer: "Where do you see yourself in five years?"
In five years, I see myself as an old man, standing around a bathroom with a mop. With how fast time has been going lately, five years may as well be 50 years. I think that for many of us, our place in the world is not a geographical one. It's a state of resignation, or as the dictionary defines:
Unresisting acceptance of something as inescapable; submission
Some birds travel across continents to escape the winter air and others stand around garbage fires and furnace exhaust vents.
The world really is a beautiful place, and remains a beautiful place for many. But it's also an absurd one. And absurdity is a human creation. Integrating into the absurdity is when the last skin of youth begins to shed. Time also passes by much quicker, and so we don't view weeks or months or seasons as really as significant or important as they once were. It'll probably be months from now until I even consider trying to do anything creative again. I find a lot of comfort in knowing that I'm a piece of the universe, and that I am created from it. But I also find some comfort in knowing that I will have come and passed, and it'll only be a fraction of a millisecond as far as the universe is concern. I'm not sure how to answer the question "Where do you see yourself in five years?"
And to think it all came from a dense mass of energy and light that could fit neatly in a matchbox and into your pocket. Then the big bang, the universe was set in motion.
When I think about the days anymore, they seem to just come and pass without much to them. I start on Monday, and close my eyes and it's now next Monday. Sitting on the train, staring into expressionless faces and the sleepyheads trying to squeeze in one more hour of rest before a long day. For instance, the janitor who cleans the bathroom in the office has no sign of youth or life left in him. In passing, you can't see his pupils. You have to stand right in front of him, at face level, to look into his soul. And even then, there's hardly any spark left in his old bones. So he stands there and waits for everyone to finish shitting. Then he gets to work.
This is what I think about when I'm asked by a potential employer: "Where do you see yourself in five years?"
In five years, I see myself as an old man, standing around a bathroom with a mop. With how fast time has been going lately, five years may as well be 50 years. I think that for many of us, our place in the world is not a geographical one. It's a state of resignation, or as the dictionary defines:
Unresisting acceptance of something as inescapable; submission
Some birds travel across continents to escape the winter air and others stand around garbage fires and furnace exhaust vents.
The world really is a beautiful place, and remains a beautiful place for many. But it's also an absurd one. And absurdity is a human creation. Integrating into the absurdity is when the last skin of youth begins to shed. Time also passes by much quicker, and so we don't view weeks or months or seasons as really as significant or important as they once were. It'll probably be months from now until I even consider trying to do anything creative again. I find a lot of comfort in knowing that I'm a piece of the universe, and that I am created from it. But I also find some comfort in knowing that I will have come and passed, and it'll only be a fraction of a millisecond as far as the universe is concern. I'm not sure how to answer the question "Where do you see yourself in five years?"
Sunday, June 26, 2011
I didn't like to eat beans. I was 5 years old and had just gotten a hair cut. My dad told me that if I didn't eat my beans then my hair wouldn't grow back. So I sat there, with my big boy spoon, and shoveled cold, canned chili beans into my mouth and rather disdainfully chewed them up into a mush of brown goo, which as I had learned, was the only way that my hair would keep growing.
I also hated spinach. My parents would buy the frozen kind, and dish it out on my plate, in which it looked like lost limbs of the creature from the black lagoon. It was stringy, and icky and I didn't like to eat it. My dad made me sit at the dinner table until I finished eating the pile of nasty dark green bile. It felt like I was sitting there for days, under a dining room light, interrogated - no, rather, tortured by the vegetable that had once been frozen and likely depleted of nutrients.
I guess a lot of people believe that carrots are good for your eyes, and that fish is "brain food". I've never really ate that well, and as an adult, I guess I don't have a good grasp on how to cook or how to eat a "balanced diet". We ate frozen spinach, and asparagus out of the can - the kind that is mushy and clammy tasting, and drank Sunny Delight - as it was our replacement for vitamin C. My dad made up his own "benefits" of eating these foods, so we/I ate it.
I used to sleep on top of my bed, without using any blankets. I often went to bed fully dressed from the previous day - shoes, socks and all. I played in the sandbox a lot in kindergarten and first grade so when I'd go to bed fully clothed, sand would be deposited in my bed sheets (and lots of it). It never got too cold in Aiken, but my parents didn't like that I wouldn't sleep under the blankets. So my dad told me that if I slept with the blanket up to my shoulders, the monsters wouldn't be able to get me. Before this, I had no idea that I was allowing myself to be susceptible to any monster attacks. I didn't sleep very well, for a week or two after being told this, but I certainly slept under my blankets, and with them up to my neck (if not covering my eyes).
I had a bad habit of brushing my teeth, and then never putting the cap back on the toothpaste. I was told that if I didn't put the cap back on, then roaches would crawl inside.
My sister had a gold fish, and it lasted a long time. It probably lived for a year, maybe two. She had had one before, but it died fairly quickly, so my dad got her another one. I forget what the name of it was... I think it may have been Lucy? One day, the goldfish was gone. We asked my dad what happened to the goldfish, and where she went. He told us that the goldfish got sick, and that he had to take her to the hospital. We were quite concerned that the goldfish was sick, and worried quite a lot about it. Every other day, then eventually once a week, and maybe even a couple of months later, we'd still ask about the goldfish and how she was doing. My dad would tell us over and over that she was still in the hospital...
I asked my grandfather how to tell the difference between a boy dog and a girl dog. He responded - Stick your finger in its heiny, and pull your finger out and smell it. If your finger smelled good, then the dog was a girl. If it smelled bad, then the dog was a boy. (note: I never tried this clearly scientific method of finding the gender of pooches)
On my sixth birthday, I learned that the world as I knew it, would end one day. It was a Sunday, and it was my birthday - the most exciting day of the year besides Christmas. My mom brought me to my Sunday School class, I was wearing my nice red Izod (Lacoste) polo matched with khakis. As soon as I was seated, I got out to to tell my Sunday school teacher that it was my birthday. I may have told her several times in a row until she acknowledged it and congratulated me. It was a pretty big deal, being six years old that is.
We talked about space, and the solar system. We talked about Pluto and the Sun. My Sunday school teacher told us that one day the sun would expand, and get so big that it would eat Mercury. Then, it would expand and get even larger and eat Venus. This was strange to me, I had no idea why the sun would want to eat other planets. She then told us that the sun would keep getting bigger and eventually consume the earth. All would be lost, and the earth would never be replaced. I had never really thought about mortality too much, besides seeing bad guys getting killed in the action movies my dad would watch. I knew people, and plants and bugs died, but I never thought that the earth would die. Eventually, she said, the sun would keep expanding and eat all of the planets, and then the sun would explode and die. For some reason, I guess I felt that souls were somehow still attached or connected somehow to their buried bodies on earth after you've died and gone to heaven. So I asked her what would happen to all the bodies of people who've been buried. She said that all the bodies of people would be gone, and that people would no longer reproduce.
For weeks, I had dreams about the sun expanding, and destroying a beautiful world, the world that I loved. And I thought about my family disappearing and never being able to reconnect with them. When the earth is destroyed, not only will people, places, objects, and animals be destroyed, but also any trace that these things and people had ever existed. I thought about myself a lot, and although she told me it would be millions of years in the future, I thought about my material possessions and my body, deep underground in a casket being incinerated and reclaimed by the fiery appetite of the sun. I'm not sure if I ever found resolve, but I think I learned how to make the dreams go away, and I'd replace the thought of the earth being destroyed with happier thoughts.
15 years later, scientists have concluded that Pluto does not fit the accepted scientific description/categorization of a planet. However, it will be destroyed by the sun one day like the rest of the planets and spinach and beans and monsters.
I also hated spinach. My parents would buy the frozen kind, and dish it out on my plate, in which it looked like lost limbs of the creature from the black lagoon. It was stringy, and icky and I didn't like to eat it. My dad made me sit at the dinner table until I finished eating the pile of nasty dark green bile. It felt like I was sitting there for days, under a dining room light, interrogated - no, rather, tortured by the vegetable that had once been frozen and likely depleted of nutrients.
I guess a lot of people believe that carrots are good for your eyes, and that fish is "brain food". I've never really ate that well, and as an adult, I guess I don't have a good grasp on how to cook or how to eat a "balanced diet". We ate frozen spinach, and asparagus out of the can - the kind that is mushy and clammy tasting, and drank Sunny Delight - as it was our replacement for vitamin C. My dad made up his own "benefits" of eating these foods, so we/I ate it.
I used to sleep on top of my bed, without using any blankets. I often went to bed fully dressed from the previous day - shoes, socks and all. I played in the sandbox a lot in kindergarten and first grade so when I'd go to bed fully clothed, sand would be deposited in my bed sheets (and lots of it). It never got too cold in Aiken, but my parents didn't like that I wouldn't sleep under the blankets. So my dad told me that if I slept with the blanket up to my shoulders, the monsters wouldn't be able to get me. Before this, I had no idea that I was allowing myself to be susceptible to any monster attacks. I didn't sleep very well, for a week or two after being told this, but I certainly slept under my blankets, and with them up to my neck (if not covering my eyes).
I had a bad habit of brushing my teeth, and then never putting the cap back on the toothpaste. I was told that if I didn't put the cap back on, then roaches would crawl inside.
My sister had a gold fish, and it lasted a long time. It probably lived for a year, maybe two. She had had one before, but it died fairly quickly, so my dad got her another one. I forget what the name of it was... I think it may have been Lucy? One day, the goldfish was gone. We asked my dad what happened to the goldfish, and where she went. He told us that the goldfish got sick, and that he had to take her to the hospital. We were quite concerned that the goldfish was sick, and worried quite a lot about it. Every other day, then eventually once a week, and maybe even a couple of months later, we'd still ask about the goldfish and how she was doing. My dad would tell us over and over that she was still in the hospital...
I asked my grandfather how to tell the difference between a boy dog and a girl dog. He responded - Stick your finger in its heiny, and pull your finger out and smell it. If your finger smelled good, then the dog was a girl. If it smelled bad, then the dog was a boy. (note: I never tried this clearly scientific method of finding the gender of pooches)
On my sixth birthday, I learned that the world as I knew it, would end one day. It was a Sunday, and it was my birthday - the most exciting day of the year besides Christmas. My mom brought me to my Sunday School class, I was wearing my nice red Izod (Lacoste) polo matched with khakis. As soon as I was seated, I got out to to tell my Sunday school teacher that it was my birthday. I may have told her several times in a row until she acknowledged it and congratulated me. It was a pretty big deal, being six years old that is.
We talked about space, and the solar system. We talked about Pluto and the Sun. My Sunday school teacher told us that one day the sun would expand, and get so big that it would eat Mercury. Then, it would expand and get even larger and eat Venus. This was strange to me, I had no idea why the sun would want to eat other planets. She then told us that the sun would keep getting bigger and eventually consume the earth. All would be lost, and the earth would never be replaced. I had never really thought about mortality too much, besides seeing bad guys getting killed in the action movies my dad would watch. I knew people, and plants and bugs died, but I never thought that the earth would die. Eventually, she said, the sun would keep expanding and eat all of the planets, and then the sun would explode and die. For some reason, I guess I felt that souls were somehow still attached or connected somehow to their buried bodies on earth after you've died and gone to heaven. So I asked her what would happen to all the bodies of people who've been buried. She said that all the bodies of people would be gone, and that people would no longer reproduce.
For weeks, I had dreams about the sun expanding, and destroying a beautiful world, the world that I loved. And I thought about my family disappearing and never being able to reconnect with them. When the earth is destroyed, not only will people, places, objects, and animals be destroyed, but also any trace that these things and people had ever existed. I thought about myself a lot, and although she told me it would be millions of years in the future, I thought about my material possessions and my body, deep underground in a casket being incinerated and reclaimed by the fiery appetite of the sun. I'm not sure if I ever found resolve, but I think I learned how to make the dreams go away, and I'd replace the thought of the earth being destroyed with happier thoughts.
15 years later, scientists have concluded that Pluto does not fit the accepted scientific description/categorization of a planet. However, it will be destroyed by the sun one day like the rest of the planets and spinach and beans and monsters.
Monday, January 3, 2011
on flying in dreams
I originally wrote this sometime in mid October, 2010. It's now Jan. 3rd, 2011 and almost 4:00am. I have work tomorrow and haven't slept...
Today, I thought about how amazing I feel when I'm in a dream flying. The deepest sleep, completely incapacitated to the point of euphoria. When I wake up, a deep feeling of disappointment and resentment sets in, for I'd rather be flying through the Alps instead of running a dull razor blade against my face. Scrape, scratch, cut - shit. Oh well. After a few snooze buttons, I begin to forget about the specific details of the dream, the who/what/where, and ultimately it fades altogether. Sometimes the soundtrack can stick around for a few minutes, but that fades out into the sound of water moving through the shower head and over my ears.
Dreams are fleeting. It's like opening the back of a camera, exposing the film to the sunlight. 24 exposures, from various places and times, with different people immediately erased. Or, it's like taking a powerful magnet and placing it up against a computer's hard drive. Except, the dream does have a tendency to leave little traces. Have you ever done that thing where you thought you had called someone the night before, and when you ask the other person they have no recollection of it ever happening? "Oh yeah, I guess it was a dream..." And generally, it is the mundane that can be difficult to differentiate, because you're never like, "Hey dad, remember that one time where we were floating in a hot air balloon over Albuquerque and we jumped out and started flying around?" Yeah, or like when you had that dream when your car or dog had a conversation with you in a human dialect. Mine was wearing a floral shirt. "Greetings from Hawaii!" he said as we Skyped.
Oh yeah, I didn't iron any of my shirts. Do you think anyone will notice? Eh, I'll just wear it. Hmm, I haven't dry cleaned my pants in 4 months, are they starting to stink? *sniff* *sniff* Hmm, yeah they do smell a little bit. I wonder if anyone has noticed. Oh crap, I left food and drink on my desk over the weekend. Eh, it's ok, I'll just get in extra early so that no one will notice. And they'll say, "See, that guy is ready to get his week started, see how eager he is to get back to work?"
"Hey, how was your weekend?"
"Relaxing. And yours?"
"Yeah, Great. Watched the Bears."
"Oh cool, did they win?"
"No."
"Oh.."
"Well.."
"Well, see ya later"
"Yeah, you too. Have a good one"
"Hey, how's it going? Have a nice weekend?"
"Yeah, got to fly in a hot air balloon"
"Really?! Wow! That is so cool!"
"Yeah, it was great."
"Where did you fly it?"
"It was over the moon. Passed a couple deep canyons and saw the lunar lander. It was fantastic. Then we flew over Rio and saw Christ the Redeemer, and then over towards Berlin and watched all the people tear down the wall. And then we landed and a man handed me a sledge hammer and I made a huge hole in the wall. People started crawling through the hole and brought beer with them. We celebrated all night and sang songs. After saying goodbye, we climbed back into the balloon and flew home. I tied it down to a tree in my backyard, but when I was leaving the house this morning for work, it was gone!I think someone stole it..."
"Uhmm.. ok.. see you later"
"You too,. bye."
A social commentary on narcissism would be like the worst dream ever. Because it would be about how much people hate having to act a certain way at work but just do it anyway. "Once I get inside the system then I can actually change it."
Bah, in your dreams. You won't be anything more than a car salesman.
What's wrong with that?
Nothing,. nothing at all,. Did I say there was anything wrong with being a car salesman?
No, but you seemed to imply it.
Hm, yeah, no, I'm sorry, you may just be making that up.
Oh, ok, sure thing Narcissus.
What do you think Socrates dreamt about? Probably pretty trippy shit. Or how about Marcus Aurelius? Virtue 24/7? How about Glenn Beck? Christmas? Santa? American Spirit? Lucky Strikes and gin? (or whiskey?)
My next door neighbor, whom I am not obliged to describe in detail for fear of jeopardizing his livelihood, works at the Pentagon. He has a security clearance, a motorcycle, and a bag of weed in his garage. I'll go over and get high with him and talk about youth and young manhood. I'd say it's a pretty "real" American experience. Sometimes, I'll come back and listen to cumbia. There's never enough beer in this house. There's plenty of expensive organic vegetables rotting in the refrigerator though. Off to the worms they go.
Today, I thought about how amazing I feel when I'm in a dream flying. The deepest sleep, completely incapacitated to the point of euphoria. When I wake up, a deep feeling of disappointment and resentment sets in, for I'd rather be flying through the Alps instead of running a dull razor blade against my face. Scrape, scratch, cut - shit. Oh well. After a few snooze buttons, I begin to forget about the specific details of the dream, the who/what/where, and ultimately it fades altogether. Sometimes the soundtrack can stick around for a few minutes, but that fades out into the sound of water moving through the shower head and over my ears.
Dreams are fleeting. It's like opening the back of a camera, exposing the film to the sunlight. 24 exposures, from various places and times, with different people immediately erased. Or, it's like taking a powerful magnet and placing it up against a computer's hard drive. Except, the dream does have a tendency to leave little traces. Have you ever done that thing where you thought you had called someone the night before, and when you ask the other person they have no recollection of it ever happening? "Oh yeah, I guess it was a dream..." And generally, it is the mundane that can be difficult to differentiate, because you're never like, "Hey dad, remember that one time where we were floating in a hot air balloon over Albuquerque and we jumped out and started flying around?" Yeah, or like when you had that dream when your car or dog had a conversation with you in a human dialect. Mine was wearing a floral shirt. "Greetings from Hawaii!" he said as we Skyped.
Oh yeah, I didn't iron any of my shirts. Do you think anyone will notice? Eh, I'll just wear it. Hmm, I haven't dry cleaned my pants in 4 months, are they starting to stink? *sniff* *sniff* Hmm, yeah they do smell a little bit. I wonder if anyone has noticed. Oh crap, I left food and drink on my desk over the weekend. Eh, it's ok, I'll just get in extra early so that no one will notice. And they'll say, "See, that guy is ready to get his week started, see how eager he is to get back to work?"
"Hey, how was your weekend?"
"Relaxing. And yours?"
"Yeah, Great. Watched the Bears."
"Oh cool, did they win?"
"No."
"Oh.."
"Well.."
"Well, see ya later"
"Yeah, you too. Have a good one"
"Hey, how's it going? Have a nice weekend?"
"Yeah, got to fly in a hot air balloon"
"Really?! Wow! That is so cool!"
"Yeah, it was great."
"Where did you fly it?"
"It was over the moon. Passed a couple deep canyons and saw the lunar lander. It was fantastic. Then we flew over Rio and saw Christ the Redeemer, and then over towards Berlin and watched all the people tear down the wall. And then we landed and a man handed me a sledge hammer and I made a huge hole in the wall. People started crawling through the hole and brought beer with them. We celebrated all night and sang songs. After saying goodbye, we climbed back into the balloon and flew home. I tied it down to a tree in my backyard, but when I was leaving the house this morning for work, it was gone!I think someone stole it..."
"Uhmm.. ok.. see you later"
"You too,. bye."
A social commentary on narcissism would be like the worst dream ever. Because it would be about how much people hate having to act a certain way at work but just do it anyway. "Once I get inside the system then I can actually change it."
Bah, in your dreams. You won't be anything more than a car salesman.
What's wrong with that?
Nothing,. nothing at all,. Did I say there was anything wrong with being a car salesman?
No, but you seemed to imply it.
Hm, yeah, no, I'm sorry, you may just be making that up.
Oh, ok, sure thing Narcissus.
What do you think Socrates dreamt about? Probably pretty trippy shit. Or how about Marcus Aurelius? Virtue 24/7? How about Glenn Beck? Christmas? Santa? American Spirit? Lucky Strikes and gin? (or whiskey?)
My next door neighbor, whom I am not obliged to describe in detail for fear of jeopardizing his livelihood, works at the Pentagon. He has a security clearance, a motorcycle, and a bag of weed in his garage. I'll go over and get high with him and talk about youth and young manhood. I'd say it's a pretty "real" American experience. Sometimes, I'll come back and listen to cumbia. There's never enough beer in this house. There's plenty of expensive organic vegetables rotting in the refrigerator though. Off to the worms they go.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
autumn
This city will never let you forget where you are at. There is something about this place that I've never experienced elsewhere. From the helicopters flying overhead, to the motorcades of black suburbans carrying secret service agents and special cargo to the desperation of the homeless people who ask the powerful, suit-clad men for pocket change - the city of Washington
almost feels unreal.
almost feels unreal.
Monday, June 21, 2010
June 21 2010
This past winter, I was walking around in the snow one night by myself, wandering aimlessly. The sky was orange as usual, and the ground had a blanket of slush on it. I had just left a colleague's house after watching "Singing in the Rain" on a projector screen with a few others. I decided to take a detour on the way home, as Palmer Square has a gravity to it that pulls you in when you circle around it. I continued to wander and eventually, I didn't really know where I was going. I think I was walking back home. At this time of the year, the sun was going down around 4 o'clock and there wasn't much to do but sleep and drink all day. Well, there were other things to do, but that's pretty much how I spent my days in the winter...
As I was walking, a strange feeling quickly sunk in and I became even more lost. My breathing picked up quickly, and I could feel the alcohol making me go mad. It was as if I had stepped on a rusty nail, and a hypochondriac frenzy immediately set it. It was the orange night sky, the white blanket across the ground, the dry unforgiving air that was like razors against your knuckles and needles in your lungs - the emptiness of night time in Chicago on a cold February night. It started getting to me, as it always does. Every year. I didn't think that I was going to keep it together before I got home. And as I crossed the street, I found a vine of fake flowers. I picked them up and brushed the snow off. They were very nice flowers, as they seemed to have more life than myself at the time. They somehow quickly neutralized me as I began to wonder where they came from and who they may have once belonged to. I made a little place on my desk for them to always remind me of that night.
A couple of months ago, I was walking around downtown and saw a tour bus full of war veterans. They were on an open air trolley, and none of them were taking pictures. Most of them were nodding off as the vehicle made its way around the landmarks. They were all wearing their hats, with decorations labeling which battalion or battleship they had served on. I imagine there were probably a few who were having a hard time keeping it together.
Before I went to go see one of my favorite bands a couple of weeks ago, I had to withdraw some money so that I could buy my ticket off of someone. There were no banks near by or ATMs. I did pass a Chinese carry out joint that had that distinctive green neon A T M sign in the window and pulled off my bike. As I locked it up and quickly walked to the door, I couldn't help but to notice all of the blood on the ground. There was a lot. The man at the counter looked at me with a blank stare. I asked what had happened, if someone got stabbed. He said, "Yes, yes. You use ATM machine?" And I asked if it would be ok. He said that it was ok, so I walked through the puddle of thick blood to use the machine and walked out. I noticed that I left a couple of footprints behind. The man at the counter didn't mind, he had no problem keeping it together.
I saw a homeless man one time laying in the grass, rolling around. It looked like he may have been dying - not that anyone would have cared. He had white pants on, with a brown stain going all the way down his pant leg. He was clearly having a hard time keeping it together.
I once crossed paths with an opossum on the sidewalk one night. I made an awkward noise and jumped. It didn't even notice me.
And so now, I find myself in yet another basement. It's in a different place clearly, but yet the lingering feeling of persistent purgatory has followed. I've met some nice people, they tell me that I don't look like I'm from here. I've learned to take it as a compliment.
As I was walking, a strange feeling quickly sunk in and I became even more lost. My breathing picked up quickly, and I could feel the alcohol making me go mad. It was as if I had stepped on a rusty nail, and a hypochondriac frenzy immediately set it. It was the orange night sky, the white blanket across the ground, the dry unforgiving air that was like razors against your knuckles and needles in your lungs - the emptiness of night time in Chicago on a cold February night. It started getting to me, as it always does. Every year. I didn't think that I was going to keep it together before I got home. And as I crossed the street, I found a vine of fake flowers. I picked them up and brushed the snow off. They were very nice flowers, as they seemed to have more life than myself at the time. They somehow quickly neutralized me as I began to wonder where they came from and who they may have once belonged to. I made a little place on my desk for them to always remind me of that night.
A couple of months ago, I was walking around downtown and saw a tour bus full of war veterans. They were on an open air trolley, and none of them were taking pictures. Most of them were nodding off as the vehicle made its way around the landmarks. They were all wearing their hats, with decorations labeling which battalion or battleship they had served on. I imagine there were probably a few who were having a hard time keeping it together.
Before I went to go see one of my favorite bands a couple of weeks ago, I had to withdraw some money so that I could buy my ticket off of someone. There were no banks near by or ATMs. I did pass a Chinese carry out joint that had that distinctive green neon A T M sign in the window and pulled off my bike. As I locked it up and quickly walked to the door, I couldn't help but to notice all of the blood on the ground. There was a lot. The man at the counter looked at me with a blank stare. I asked what had happened, if someone got stabbed. He said, "Yes, yes. You use ATM machine?" And I asked if it would be ok. He said that it was ok, so I walked through the puddle of thick blood to use the machine and walked out. I noticed that I left a couple of footprints behind. The man at the counter didn't mind, he had no problem keeping it together.
I saw a homeless man one time laying in the grass, rolling around. It looked like he may have been dying - not that anyone would have cared. He had white pants on, with a brown stain going all the way down his pant leg. He was clearly having a hard time keeping it together.
I once crossed paths with an opossum on the sidewalk one night. I made an awkward noise and jumped. It didn't even notice me.
And so now, I find myself in yet another basement. It's in a different place clearly, but yet the lingering feeling of persistent purgatory has followed. I've met some nice people, they tell me that I don't look like I'm from here. I've learned to take it as a compliment.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Organic cotton
The sheets are green, and clean as they are new.
They've traveled a long distance for me to soil them.
With my dirty feet and sweaty hands.
Eventually I will sleep, and the sheets will have served me well.
New place, new bed, new sheets, same questions.
I was just about to get out of bed...
And the birds outside my window make the usual noises -
"Where have you migrated from?", a lark asks.
Another is busy trying to eat the threads from a mop.
"And what do you do?", asks another bird.
"What kind of yarn do you spin?"
"Well,. I don't actually know how to spin yarn,. But my sheets are organic cotton." I replied.
"I see", said the bird. "Tell me more..."
Meanwhile, his companion is still pecking at the mop.
"Why did you come here? Who do you know?", the same impersonal interview that I had been put through over a hundred times in the first three weeks that I've been here.
"I have made my way into a new land, much like yourself.
Except, I'm not sure how to migrate home. Is that what you call it?" I said.
"The wind is our best friend, it carries us through the day
when we need to go back home. It does most of the work for us", the bird responded.
"But we don't stay at any place for too long, as the wind will carry on
without us if we begin to settle in. It's a pretty easy life really. The wind
provides nearly everything for us, so we can spend the remainder of our
days bathing in the fountains and singing songs. We barely have to do
anything that we don't want."
"Sounds nice..", I responded.
"Yup. Well, nice meeting you. Good luck at the... uhm, gotta go." The one lark said.
They made a loud chirp-cheep-doodle in unison, fluttered their wings and took to the sky.
It was quickly approaching night time...
I started falling asleep, and just as I began to drift away to the dreamworld, I heard a loud hooooOOOTTT HOOT come from my window. I rose my head to look - it was a snowy owl.
"HOOT, It's HOT here!", he said while fluttering his wings.
"Which way is it to Alaska?"
Apparently, a tourist...
"North is that way", I pointed. He turned his head all the way around.
"And then you need to head west towards the Pacific." I said.
He was so white, that the moonshine reflected off of his body and lit up my room.
"Oh thanks! It's so hot here, that I've lost my ability to sense the wintry currents that help me find my way back to the snowy lands of the north", the owl said, shuffling his feet back and forth on my window sill.
"Why are you here if you don't mind me asking", I responded.
"I came down to visit my cousin, the Great Horned Owl in Virginia! He is the wisest of all birds, and I came here to finish learning how to become a wise owl myself. I just got a little lost on my journey back home. "
I told him that I was here for a similar reason. Except, I wasn't sure if I should have gone into as much detail as I did. I always volunteer too much information to strangers.
"It's not a problem, we all get a little lost sometimes. And sometimes we get homeless", I said.
He told me, "I've never once met a pigeon who had a home. They wander the city streets looking for food, almost aimlessly. I often tried to ask pigeons for directions when I was lost in the great cities of the Midwest, but most of them were not able to offer any help. Some just didn't know how to communicate in bird speech, but most said that they were too busy to help and went back to pecking at the ground. They would walk around, and try to find anything that was digestible, not knowing how to hunt for themselves. I'm so happy that I have a nice home in the woods where I never have to rely on the trash of humans for my food."
The owl told me that he was homesick, and tired of eating the small mice that run in and around the garbage cans in the alleys. He couldn't wait to get home and find a fat juicy rat to munch on.
I showed him a map, and we took a few minutes trying to figure out what would be the best way to get home. He told me that he was a really fast flier, and wasn't too concerned about getting lost again if he could take a couple of minutes looking at a map. After scanning the map for a couple of minutes, he thanked me for my help. I told him I was happy to be able to offer my assistance. The owl told me that after visiting his cousin, he realized that he was even more confused about what it meant to be wise. He also told me that if I make it up to Alaska again, I should look him up if I ever need directions home.
After wishing each other luck, the owl parted into the night. When he flapped his wings, there was a loud WOOSH WOOSH WOOOOSH, from beating the air. You could see his white wings float through the air towards the moon. He continued until all that was visible was a white dot against the backdrop of the black sky. Eventually, he disappeared completely and I went back to my bed. I closed my eyes and saw blackness. I thought of the snowy owl flying through the night sky, and wondered how long it would take for him to fly back home. I wished that I could have flown with him across the country. But I couldn't because I had to go to work the next day.
The next day I woke up, semi-rested. I hit the snooze button two times, which is average for me. I turned on my radio and listened to a piano song. Some birds right outside my window were singing along with it. I almost decided to just stay home and not go to work so I could play guitar and sing with them, but when you're a grown up you have put these things aside sometimes.
I rode my bike to the store and locked it up against a big metal post. The manager was late again, so the door was locked. Since I hadn't eaten any breakfast, I decided to get a coffee and something small to eat.
I bought an egg sandwich and a coffee from a street vendor and sat on the sidewalk curb waiting for the boss to show up. I noticed that a pigeon was pecking at the ground around a garbage can. He would hobble a little bit, and peck, hobble, peck, and so forth. He was able to smell my food, and turned around to look at me for a moment and then went back to pecking at the ground. At first, I was a little unsure about offering him some of my sandwich, but I remembered what the owl had said to me the night before. Being homeless is a tough life.
I pinched off a little piece of the bun and held it out. The pigeon quickly looked over, but was hesitant to come over. I waved my hand a couple of times and then flicked the bread on the ground. He slowly hobbled over, picked it up with his beak and quickly walked away. The pigeon finished the morsel and then hobbled back over to me. He didn't say anything, only stared. Then he pecked at the ground.
"Here, have the rest", I offered the last piece of bread to him and dropped it on the ground near me.
"Do you have a home?" I asked.
He quickly ate the food, without saying anything.
"Do you have any friends?"
"Friends?! FRIENDS?" the pigeon responded. "What do you think? I'm a pigeon! Who wants to be my friend? The alley cats have it just as hard, but they won't even be my friend. They'll be nice at first, then try to eat me!"
"Wow, that's not very pleasant", I said. "I know how it feels though,. Well kind of."
"This city is a tough place. It's not easy to be homeless and make it" the pigeon said. "I wish I could leave, but I know I wouldn't make it out in the woods. People yell at me, and tell me to get a job. What am I supposed to do?! There's no more need for carrier pigeons, so we all just roam around the streets looking for food."
I thought for a minute about how I could help. I knew that it would be unpractical to encourage him to seek refuge in the woods after having lived in the city for so long.
"What if you delivered food?" I suggested. I thought about my courier friends back home who had to find new jobs when email put bike messengers out of work.
"What do you mean? How would I do that?" the pigeon asked.
"Well, what if you approached the bakery over there and tell them that you could deliver cookies, pastries and sandwiches to customers who ordered them. And you'd be faster than anyone else because you can fly over the streets. This way, you'd have a job and you'd be able to eat for free."
"Hmm.. Well I haven't delivered anything in a long time, but I think I could get my wings back if I tried. And I wouldn't have to travel very far, or carry anything too heavy. That's a great idea! I'll go talk to the baker right now!"
The pigeon hooted, puffed out his chest, held up his head and walked across the street. He thanked me for the food and the job idea and flew away.
My boss finally showed up and unlocked the door. And as usual, when he's late he asks me to do everything in a tone that implies that I'm the one who messed up. So, I shuffle the bikes around, restock the shelves and put on my work t-shirt. I began to sweep the concrete floor, moving the broom back and forth - swish swoosh swish. I thought about the way the pigeon had been pecking at the ground for food. I raised my head to look out the window and saw a mother walking by, holding the hand of her child. Except, it wasn't a person, it was a hen and chick. A man in a suit passed by, but it was a hawk. Then another man in a suit walked by, he was a vulture. The sidewalks were filled with human sized doves, eagles, peacocks, flamingos, chickens, penguins, geese and seagulls. There was an albatross with headphones on, riding a skateboard down the street with his wings stretched out. And a duck at a newspaper stand, quacking about the latest headlines. And a parrot walking out of the coffee shop. I looked at my boss and saw an ostrich. I looked at the floor and just kept sweeping. Or pecking. Whichever you'd like to call it.
They've traveled a long distance for me to soil them.
With my dirty feet and sweaty hands.
Eventually I will sleep, and the sheets will have served me well.
New place, new bed, new sheets, same questions.
I was just about to get out of bed...
And the birds outside my window make the usual noises -
"Where have you migrated from?", a lark asks.
Another is busy trying to eat the threads from a mop.
"And what do you do?", asks another bird.
"What kind of yarn do you spin?"
"Well,. I don't actually know how to spin yarn,. But my sheets are organic cotton." I replied.
"I see", said the bird. "Tell me more..."
Meanwhile, his companion is still pecking at the mop.
"Why did you come here? Who do you know?", the same impersonal interview that I had been put through over a hundred times in the first three weeks that I've been here.
"I have made my way into a new land, much like yourself.
Except, I'm not sure how to migrate home. Is that what you call it?" I said.
"The wind is our best friend, it carries us through the day
when we need to go back home. It does most of the work for us", the bird responded.
"But we don't stay at any place for too long, as the wind will carry on
without us if we begin to settle in. It's a pretty easy life really. The wind
provides nearly everything for us, so we can spend the remainder of our
days bathing in the fountains and singing songs. We barely have to do
anything that we don't want."
"Sounds nice..", I responded.
"Yup. Well, nice meeting you. Good luck at the... uhm, gotta go." The one lark said.
They made a loud chirp-cheep-doodle in unison, fluttered their wings and took to the sky.
It was quickly approaching night time...
I started falling asleep, and just as I began to drift away to the dreamworld, I heard a loud hooooOOOTTT HOOT come from my window. I rose my head to look - it was a snowy owl.
"HOOT, It's HOT here!", he said while fluttering his wings.
"Which way is it to Alaska?"
Apparently, a tourist...
"North is that way", I pointed. He turned his head all the way around.
"And then you need to head west towards the Pacific." I said.
He was so white, that the moonshine reflected off of his body and lit up my room.
"Oh thanks! It's so hot here, that I've lost my ability to sense the wintry currents that help me find my way back to the snowy lands of the north", the owl said, shuffling his feet back and forth on my window sill.
"Why are you here if you don't mind me asking", I responded.
"I came down to visit my cousin, the Great Horned Owl in Virginia! He is the wisest of all birds, and I came here to finish learning how to become a wise owl myself. I just got a little lost on my journey back home. "
I told him that I was here for a similar reason. Except, I wasn't sure if I should have gone into as much detail as I did. I always volunteer too much information to strangers.
"It's not a problem, we all get a little lost sometimes. And sometimes we get homeless", I said.
He told me, "I've never once met a pigeon who had a home. They wander the city streets looking for food, almost aimlessly. I often tried to ask pigeons for directions when I was lost in the great cities of the Midwest, but most of them were not able to offer any help. Some just didn't know how to communicate in bird speech, but most said that they were too busy to help and went back to pecking at the ground. They would walk around, and try to find anything that was digestible, not knowing how to hunt for themselves. I'm so happy that I have a nice home in the woods where I never have to rely on the trash of humans for my food."
The owl told me that he was homesick, and tired of eating the small mice that run in and around the garbage cans in the alleys. He couldn't wait to get home and find a fat juicy rat to munch on.
I showed him a map, and we took a few minutes trying to figure out what would be the best way to get home. He told me that he was a really fast flier, and wasn't too concerned about getting lost again if he could take a couple of minutes looking at a map. After scanning the map for a couple of minutes, he thanked me for my help. I told him I was happy to be able to offer my assistance. The owl told me that after visiting his cousin, he realized that he was even more confused about what it meant to be wise. He also told me that if I make it up to Alaska again, I should look him up if I ever need directions home.
After wishing each other luck, the owl parted into the night. When he flapped his wings, there was a loud WOOSH WOOSH WOOOOSH, from beating the air. You could see his white wings float through the air towards the moon. He continued until all that was visible was a white dot against the backdrop of the black sky. Eventually, he disappeared completely and I went back to my bed. I closed my eyes and saw blackness. I thought of the snowy owl flying through the night sky, and wondered how long it would take for him to fly back home. I wished that I could have flown with him across the country. But I couldn't because I had to go to work the next day.
The next day I woke up, semi-rested. I hit the snooze button two times, which is average for me. I turned on my radio and listened to a piano song. Some birds right outside my window were singing along with it. I almost decided to just stay home and not go to work so I could play guitar and sing with them, but when you're a grown up you have put these things aside sometimes.
I rode my bike to the store and locked it up against a big metal post. The manager was late again, so the door was locked. Since I hadn't eaten any breakfast, I decided to get a coffee and something small to eat.
I bought an egg sandwich and a coffee from a street vendor and sat on the sidewalk curb waiting for the boss to show up. I noticed that a pigeon was pecking at the ground around a garbage can. He would hobble a little bit, and peck, hobble, peck, and so forth. He was able to smell my food, and turned around to look at me for a moment and then went back to pecking at the ground. At first, I was a little unsure about offering him some of my sandwich, but I remembered what the owl had said to me the night before. Being homeless is a tough life.
I pinched off a little piece of the bun and held it out. The pigeon quickly looked over, but was hesitant to come over. I waved my hand a couple of times and then flicked the bread on the ground. He slowly hobbled over, picked it up with his beak and quickly walked away. The pigeon finished the morsel and then hobbled back over to me. He didn't say anything, only stared. Then he pecked at the ground.
"Here, have the rest", I offered the last piece of bread to him and dropped it on the ground near me.
"Do you have a home?" I asked.
He quickly ate the food, without saying anything.
"Do you have any friends?"
"Friends?! FRIENDS?" the pigeon responded. "What do you think? I'm a pigeon! Who wants to be my friend? The alley cats have it just as hard, but they won't even be my friend. They'll be nice at first, then try to eat me!"
"Wow, that's not very pleasant", I said. "I know how it feels though,. Well kind of."
"This city is a tough place. It's not easy to be homeless and make it" the pigeon said. "I wish I could leave, but I know I wouldn't make it out in the woods. People yell at me, and tell me to get a job. What am I supposed to do?! There's no more need for carrier pigeons, so we all just roam around the streets looking for food."
I thought for a minute about how I could help. I knew that it would be unpractical to encourage him to seek refuge in the woods after having lived in the city for so long.
"What if you delivered food?" I suggested. I thought about my courier friends back home who had to find new jobs when email put bike messengers out of work.
"What do you mean? How would I do that?" the pigeon asked.
"Well, what if you approached the bakery over there and tell them that you could deliver cookies, pastries and sandwiches to customers who ordered them. And you'd be faster than anyone else because you can fly over the streets. This way, you'd have a job and you'd be able to eat for free."
"Hmm.. Well I haven't delivered anything in a long time, but I think I could get my wings back if I tried. And I wouldn't have to travel very far, or carry anything too heavy. That's a great idea! I'll go talk to the baker right now!"
The pigeon hooted, puffed out his chest, held up his head and walked across the street. He thanked me for the food and the job idea and flew away.
My boss finally showed up and unlocked the door. And as usual, when he's late he asks me to do everything in a tone that implies that I'm the one who messed up. So, I shuffle the bikes around, restock the shelves and put on my work t-shirt. I began to sweep the concrete floor, moving the broom back and forth - swish swoosh swish. I thought about the way the pigeon had been pecking at the ground for food. I raised my head to look out the window and saw a mother walking by, holding the hand of her child. Except, it wasn't a person, it was a hen and chick. A man in a suit passed by, but it was a hawk. Then another man in a suit walked by, he was a vulture. The sidewalks were filled with human sized doves, eagles, peacocks, flamingos, chickens, penguins, geese and seagulls. There was an albatross with headphones on, riding a skateboard down the street with his wings stretched out. And a duck at a newspaper stand, quacking about the latest headlines. And a parrot walking out of the coffee shop. I looked at my boss and saw an ostrich. I looked at the floor and just kept sweeping. Or pecking. Whichever you'd like to call it.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Monday, April 26, 2010
I imagine myself staying on the farm for a few weeks, maybe a few months. I see myself sitting at the desk in my late great grandmother's house plugging away on the writing machine. I would like to have a dog and go pheasant hunting. Pal around in the woods and wait for the right moment. Then I would take a stroll around the farm and look at where I may have belonged if my mother never escaped. Would I fit in now? Well surely not. But it is a part of who I am. So the farm fits in me.
My grandfather will die this year, I can just feel it. Over the last few years he has been winding down his livestock and corn planting. Now, he can no longer work in his fields. And when he does pass, I have a feeling that I will not really understand that he is gone.
I haven't given myself a lot of time to contemplate about my being in DC. Besides the barrage of usual questions from strangers and potential new friends, I haven't told myself how I feel.
Sam is talking in his sleep right now.
I am still thinking about the morning dew on the grass in Reevesville, SC.
__________________
Unnatural reverb is your friend
because you have no home
no longer a place to own and to be owned.
Only the scuff marks that you left behind
on the walls of your old room
from when your bed kissed the wall
while making love.
So relinquish the memories,
or at least the thoughts of a past livelihood
and relinquish the sunlight
that would pour in through the windows
and land on your face.
Say goodbye to the old landlord upstairs
who will eventually die upstairs.
And the room with the radiation heater
that kept me warm in my coldest moments,
when the presence of another body left my bed
never to return.
And that was it.
Every time is the same.
Boxes with names.
A place for everything,
and everything in its place.
The orange chairs, and orange cat
the plants hanging from the ceiling in the kitchen,
with the sunlight coming in from overhead.
Climbing the ladder to the roof,
only to realize that you now had a second backyard.
Shelves with books, records and trophies from childhood
for kicking a soccer ball around nearly twenty years ago.
I wish I could feel that happy forever.
Forever knowing that I would always be that happy.
My grandfather will die this year, I can just feel it. Over the last few years he has been winding down his livestock and corn planting. Now, he can no longer work in his fields. And when he does pass, I have a feeling that I will not really understand that he is gone.
I haven't given myself a lot of time to contemplate about my being in DC. Besides the barrage of usual questions from strangers and potential new friends, I haven't told myself how I feel.
Sam is talking in his sleep right now.
I am still thinking about the morning dew on the grass in Reevesville, SC.
__________________
Unnatural reverb is your friend
because you have no home
no longer a place to own and to be owned.
Only the scuff marks that you left behind
on the walls of your old room
from when your bed kissed the wall
while making love.
So relinquish the memories,
or at least the thoughts of a past livelihood
and relinquish the sunlight
that would pour in through the windows
and land on your face.
Say goodbye to the old landlord upstairs
who will eventually die upstairs.
And the room with the radiation heater
that kept me warm in my coldest moments,
when the presence of another body left my bed
never to return.
And that was it.
Every time is the same.
Boxes with names.
A place for everything,
and everything in its place.
The orange chairs, and orange cat
the plants hanging from the ceiling in the kitchen,
with the sunlight coming in from overhead.
Climbing the ladder to the roof,
only to realize that you now had a second backyard.
Shelves with books, records and trophies from childhood
for kicking a soccer ball around nearly twenty years ago.
I wish I could feel that happy forever.
Forever knowing that I would always be that happy.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
March 20, 2010
Phew. These last few weeks have been really fascinating. Yesterday, the temperature was 65 degrees and sunny. However, it has not stopped sleeting/snowing all day today. After this week, I vow to never cater to the wealthy folks of the Gold Coast ever again. Working in the service industry is becoming a much more common career path for people than ever before. It used to be that you could get a good union job on the assembly line, work for 40 years and then live comfortably off your pension when you retire. I have been helping out a friend and decided to take his job walking dogs for a couple of weeks while he is gone. Walking Gold Coast dogs is definitely not a chore for the timid. The people who live in these high rises hire somebody to do nearly everything for them - house cleaning, laundry, dog walking, wiping their asses and it's really quite pitiful I think. After being bit by one of the dogs, I was supposed to meet with the owner the next day to talk about a way to remedy the dog's aggression. When I showed up at the proper time, she was on a "conference call" and was unable to chat. So I came back an hour later, and she was no where to be found. Well apparently the dog walker's well being is pretty low ranking in the daily happenings. Then I get chewed out by the manager of the dog walking company for not answering my phone when she called. A pretty healthy amount of shit for little reimbursement as far as I see it.
However, everything will be different in a couple of weeks. I have accepted a job in the Washington DC area and will be moving down there very very soon. After applying for dozens of jobs in Chicago, having several bizarre interviews, and a long list of let downs, I realized that it's high time for me to skip out of town and try something new. Then, low and behold, I apply for a job in DC and get it almost immediately. And it's going to be a really fun job - go figure. There's been a lot of unnecessary drama in this house in the last couple of months, and a lot of side-taking and shit talking. So basically, I'm ready to just walk away from the situation. Again, it's too much effort for so little in return. I'm really getting to the point where I am just focusing on myself and what I need to do to be happier. I also vow to never live with art students and pretentious hipsters again. It's not worth it no matter how you look at it.
My two day visit to DC was of epic proportions. So we'll see how the rest of the year pans out.
I've never been so ready to walk away from a place that I've referred to as my home like this. There's not going to be a big party, or a major announcement. I'm just going to pack my bags and take the train to DC. And it's going to be that simple.
Phew. These last few weeks have been really fascinating. Yesterday, the temperature was 65 degrees and sunny. However, it has not stopped sleeting/snowing all day today. After this week, I vow to never cater to the wealthy folks of the Gold Coast ever again. Working in the service industry is becoming a much more common career path for people than ever before. It used to be that you could get a good union job on the assembly line, work for 40 years and then live comfortably off your pension when you retire. I have been helping out a friend and decided to take his job walking dogs for a couple of weeks while he is gone. Walking Gold Coast dogs is definitely not a chore for the timid. The people who live in these high rises hire somebody to do nearly everything for them - house cleaning, laundry, dog walking, wiping their asses and it's really quite pitiful I think. After being bit by one of the dogs, I was supposed to meet with the owner the next day to talk about a way to remedy the dog's aggression. When I showed up at the proper time, she was on a "conference call" and was unable to chat. So I came back an hour later, and she was no where to be found. Well apparently the dog walker's well being is pretty low ranking in the daily happenings. Then I get chewed out by the manager of the dog walking company for not answering my phone when she called. A pretty healthy amount of shit for little reimbursement as far as I see it.
However, everything will be different in a couple of weeks. I have accepted a job in the Washington DC area and will be moving down there very very soon. After applying for dozens of jobs in Chicago, having several bizarre interviews, and a long list of let downs, I realized that it's high time for me to skip out of town and try something new. Then, low and behold, I apply for a job in DC and get it almost immediately. And it's going to be a really fun job - go figure. There's been a lot of unnecessary drama in this house in the last couple of months, and a lot of side-taking and shit talking. So basically, I'm ready to just walk away from the situation. Again, it's too much effort for so little in return. I'm really getting to the point where I am just focusing on myself and what I need to do to be happier. I also vow to never live with art students and pretentious hipsters again. It's not worth it no matter how you look at it.
My two day visit to DC was of epic proportions. So we'll see how the rest of the year pans out.
I've never been so ready to walk away from a place that I've referred to as my home like this. There's not going to be a big party, or a major announcement. I'm just going to pack my bags and take the train to DC. And it's going to be that simple.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
February 28 2010 - Day four of a new anxiety
What would my book of revelations look like? Well, like everyone else, I look towards my dreams for inspiration. But what happens to one's aspirations when their dreams have been invaded by ghosts? Old spirits coming in and out of your world everyday. The phantoms that haunt you during the day persist, and continue through the night. I've had a revelation tonight. I also had one last night. The images in your mind while you're asleep at night are truly the most frightening things you will ever see. Because these visions are real, and really yours.
So what happens when you can't sleep, and you put the TV on? Space out. Oh, a science fiction soap opera. I hear the floor creaking with every step.
step. step. step. no peace. no peace. no peace.
no quiet. no peace. no quiet.
People will certainly treat you like a stranger, and then ask you to not be one. People also love irony, attempts at being clever, petty altercations, and half assed attempts of self education. See, I think the scene in "A Clockwork Orange" where the writer is sitting at his desk working on something and has no idea that his wife is about to be raped and murdered is a figment of the creator's own nightmares. The image is so vivid, that I can still see all of the details of the house. There's no other place that this scene could have come from except the bad dreams of the person who wrote the story.
Guess what? What?
It's quiet now. Oh.
Guess what else? What's that?
People have been consuming alcohol tonight.
Oh. So what?
Don't you know what that means?
No, what... they were exchanging
ideas with one another?
No. It means that they are morphing into something else.
An ugly shape, really. It's as predictable as false wood grain.
It's important that we all have little buddies. Somebody who needs us. We certainly don't need ourselves. Don't let anybody tell you otherwise. They, meaning "anybody", care only about this damned system that they've developed and embrace.
But don't embrace the crazies too hard,
they might just bite your ear off.
What would my book of revelations look like? Well, like everyone else, I look towards my dreams for inspiration. But what happens to one's aspirations when their dreams have been invaded by ghosts? Old spirits coming in and out of your world everyday. The phantoms that haunt you during the day persist, and continue through the night. I've had a revelation tonight. I also had one last night. The images in your mind while you're asleep at night are truly the most frightening things you will ever see. Because these visions are real, and really yours.
So what happens when you can't sleep, and you put the TV on? Space out. Oh, a science fiction soap opera. I hear the floor creaking with every step.
step. step. step. no peace. no peace. no peace.
no quiet. no peace. no quiet.
People will certainly treat you like a stranger, and then ask you to not be one. People also love irony, attempts at being clever, petty altercations, and half assed attempts of self education. See, I think the scene in "A Clockwork Orange" where the writer is sitting at his desk working on something and has no idea that his wife is about to be raped and murdered is a figment of the creator's own nightmares. The image is so vivid, that I can still see all of the details of the house. There's no other place that this scene could have come from except the bad dreams of the person who wrote the story.
Guess what? What?
It's quiet now. Oh.
Guess what else? What's that?
People have been consuming alcohol tonight.
Oh. So what?
Don't you know what that means?
No, what... they were exchanging
ideas with one another?
No. It means that they are morphing into something else.
An ugly shape, really. It's as predictable as false wood grain.
It's important that we all have little buddies. Somebody who needs us. We certainly don't need ourselves. Don't let anybody tell you otherwise. They, meaning "anybody", care only about this damned system that they've developed and embrace.
But don't embrace the crazies too hard,
they might just bite your ear off.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
dream journal 2/10/09
These last few days have been incredibly strange but also very difficult. It seems that whenever I have something heavy land on me, it's a multitude of things at once. And although I have to immediately decide a course of action, the path seems to always be destroyed as soon as it is created. I woke up this morning from a very surreal dream, one where I felt felt perpetually trapped even after dying.
--------------
I needed a job. So I applied for one that I thought was pretty simple. The most important institution in the region had a gorilla at their office and needed somebody to clean up after him. The gorilla however was very advanced, about as intelligent as a human and therefore as violent as a human. He could feed himself and entertain himself, but he just needed someone to clean up after him. He had had a caretaker for a number of years but the person who had cleaned up after this gorilla for years finally passed on. I was brought in as the replacement. My duties were very simple: clean up the gorilla's shit, and keep him happy.
When I started, I felt like it was just a job that I could do in the meanwhile until I found something else more fulfilling. I totally underestimated the importance of this creature. He was huge, probably 10 feet tall when standing and very intimidating. The area that the gorilla was kept was a large area within the the deepest corridors of the building. The ministers and officers were several stories above but could watch the gorilla at any time. I was very careful when moving around him and cleaning up after him. I was also very careful not to look him in the eye or to upset him. The place that hired me for this job was a combination of the area's largest corporation and also the government in one institution. I never found out if the gorilla was some kind of experiment, or a mascot or what. He was just there.
He didn't take very kindly to me. I'm not sure exactly what it was I did to make him dislike me. Maybe, I was just too timid. But I was also afraid to be too casual. Sometimes the gorilla would have guests, and I'd have to pour drinks and serve his company too.
The gorilla started pushing me around a bit and physically harming me. The first few instances were horrifying and made me fear for my life, so I became even more passive and robotic - only moving when I had to. I had my shovel in one hand and bucket in the other ready to go always.
I tried to talk to one of the ministers of the company/government about what was happening and how I didn't like the work at all. She had said that the gorilla was very gentle with his last caretaker and that the happiness of the animal was far more important than my livelihood.
Knowing that I had no other recourse or protection from the higher "management", I realized that there wasn't a whole lot I could do. They wouldn't let me just quit and leave. They said that I had to change the way I acted around the gorilla to make him happy. However, instead of becoming more obedient to his attacks, I began to resent him and started dissenting against my job and the organization as a whole. The gorilla could immediately see a change in my disposition towards him so he became even more aggressive towards me. This time, instead of taking the shellacking and then going about my work, I began to curse the creature and told him how I hated being trapped with him. He grabbed me by my arm and shook me extremely hard. It was so hard that I felt something within me change. It's like I fell asleep for a split second and then continued back to my state of hysterical yowling. I began screaming for help but no one seemed to notice. After a period (which seemed like hours), someone came in to check on the creature and I ran up to them begging for help. Although I was screaming and shouting point blank to this individual, the person completely ignored me! But it wasn't that the person acknowledged me and looked away, no, it was as if I wasn't even there! I had no presence. And then I realized that something was very wrong. I looked at the gorilla and asked him if I was dead. His swift blow to my neck and back had killed me so quickly, that I had no idea that I had already morphed into a ghostly state. Because my work was to clean up after this creature, I was not able to pass on into the afterlife. I became a phantom, stuck in this miserable cage with this animal for all eternity! And although no one else could see me, the gorilla certainly could. He could no longer physically hurt me, but he controlled me completely at this point. I had no free will, and my after-life's duty became the servitude of this creature.
--------------
Clearly, when I woke up I was pretty hazy from such a bizarre dream. Of course, it's always a tough thing to "interpret" such dreams, but I know that they often do carry value. This is the first time that I had actually died in a dream and continued,. which is pretty creepy/strange/horrifying. I think it may have a lot to do with my fears of being tied down to a job working for something that I hate. Although I have tried really hard these last few months to find work within the "activist" community, I am beginning to lose faith in the availability of "feel good" work and starting to accept a more stark future. Having encountered one failure after another x 100, while working virtually for little to no pay for the last six months, it may be time to retreat for now.
It's weird being in a transition limbo for so long. It's really not recommended.
--------------
I needed a job. So I applied for one that I thought was pretty simple. The most important institution in the region had a gorilla at their office and needed somebody to clean up after him. The gorilla however was very advanced, about as intelligent as a human and therefore as violent as a human. He could feed himself and entertain himself, but he just needed someone to clean up after him. He had had a caretaker for a number of years but the person who had cleaned up after this gorilla for years finally passed on. I was brought in as the replacement. My duties were very simple: clean up the gorilla's shit, and keep him happy.
When I started, I felt like it was just a job that I could do in the meanwhile until I found something else more fulfilling. I totally underestimated the importance of this creature. He was huge, probably 10 feet tall when standing and very intimidating. The area that the gorilla was kept was a large area within the the deepest corridors of the building. The ministers and officers were several stories above but could watch the gorilla at any time. I was very careful when moving around him and cleaning up after him. I was also very careful not to look him in the eye or to upset him. The place that hired me for this job was a combination of the area's largest corporation and also the government in one institution. I never found out if the gorilla was some kind of experiment, or a mascot or what. He was just there.
He didn't take very kindly to me. I'm not sure exactly what it was I did to make him dislike me. Maybe, I was just too timid. But I was also afraid to be too casual. Sometimes the gorilla would have guests, and I'd have to pour drinks and serve his company too.
The gorilla started pushing me around a bit and physically harming me. The first few instances were horrifying and made me fear for my life, so I became even more passive and robotic - only moving when I had to. I had my shovel in one hand and bucket in the other ready to go always.
I tried to talk to one of the ministers of the company/government about what was happening and how I didn't like the work at all. She had said that the gorilla was very gentle with his last caretaker and that the happiness of the animal was far more important than my livelihood.
Knowing that I had no other recourse or protection from the higher "management", I realized that there wasn't a whole lot I could do. They wouldn't let me just quit and leave. They said that I had to change the way I acted around the gorilla to make him happy. However, instead of becoming more obedient to his attacks, I began to resent him and started dissenting against my job and the organization as a whole. The gorilla could immediately see a change in my disposition towards him so he became even more aggressive towards me. This time, instead of taking the shellacking and then going about my work, I began to curse the creature and told him how I hated being trapped with him. He grabbed me by my arm and shook me extremely hard. It was so hard that I felt something within me change. It's like I fell asleep for a split second and then continued back to my state of hysterical yowling. I began screaming for help but no one seemed to notice. After a period (which seemed like hours), someone came in to check on the creature and I ran up to them begging for help. Although I was screaming and shouting point blank to this individual, the person completely ignored me! But it wasn't that the person acknowledged me and looked away, no, it was as if I wasn't even there! I had no presence. And then I realized that something was very wrong. I looked at the gorilla and asked him if I was dead. His swift blow to my neck and back had killed me so quickly, that I had no idea that I had already morphed into a ghostly state. Because my work was to clean up after this creature, I was not able to pass on into the afterlife. I became a phantom, stuck in this miserable cage with this animal for all eternity! And although no one else could see me, the gorilla certainly could. He could no longer physically hurt me, but he controlled me completely at this point. I had no free will, and my after-life's duty became the servitude of this creature.
--------------
Clearly, when I woke up I was pretty hazy from such a bizarre dream. Of course, it's always a tough thing to "interpret" such dreams, but I know that they often do carry value. This is the first time that I had actually died in a dream and continued,. which is pretty creepy/strange/horrifying. I think it may have a lot to do with my fears of being tied down to a job working for something that I hate. Although I have tried really hard these last few months to find work within the "activist" community, I am beginning to lose faith in the availability of "feel good" work and starting to accept a more stark future. Having encountered one failure after another x 100, while working virtually for little to no pay for the last six months, it may be time to retreat for now.
It's weird being in a transition limbo for so long. It's really not recommended.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Saturday, January 9, 2010
DELUSIONS OF GRANDEUR
Things can get pretty complicated living in the city. That is why it is time to start planning a journey of epic proportions - on an epically simple machine!
I probably slept 15 of the 24 hours I was alive yesterday. But I woke up this morning and found that I did indeed write something last night on the ole' Schreibmaschine. And it goes like this:
(If I can ever get my epically plagued computer "fixed" then I can finally start scanning things in. But in the meanwhile, I've got to work with what I've got.)
L_ve Epic
because Peter Paul and Mary said so.
Eero Saarinen was the most important architect in my life
because I'm from the mid west.
Remember when we were long distance?
for a few days?
for a few years?
reunion
of epic proportions.
start writing letters to your friends.
(If I can ever get my epically plagued computer "fixed" then I can finally start scanning things in. But in the meanwhile, I've got to work with what I've got.)
L_ve Epic
because Peter Paul and Mary said so.
Eero Saarinen was the most important architect in my life
because I'm from the mid west.
Remember when we were long distance?
for a few days?
for a few years?
reunion
of epic proportions.
start writing letters to your friends.
and tell them
how much you miss them.
cast iron get-away,
a ship that goes to Jamaica
and returns with soldiers hardened from war.
go home kid.
cast iron get-away,
a ship that goes to Jamaica
and returns with soldiers hardened from war.
go home kid.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Rebirth of the Great American Airship
Hello,
My name is Nairda Ecartal and I'm running to be your next representative.
You're busy? I promise I won't take long...
Oh yeah? I'm sorry to hear. I realize that times are hard for single mothers with children.
I understand. I hope the economy improves as well.
Yes, I agree. I also think that children should have safe and open streets to play in. I certainly did.
My background? No. I'm not an attorney.
Ah, ok. No, no. I was once an Airborne Ranger during Vietnam. Yeah, except I never fired my gun. I guess you could say that I was a conscientious objector who just accepted the fate of civic "duty". I entered the war at a time where dissent was climaxing back home.
No, it wasn't that I was looking to avoid killing anyone. The irony is that I was a really good shot. I was actually part of a sniper squad. We'd land in our target zone - always somewhere in the bushes - and lie in the prone position for days, sometimes even a week,. and sometimes longer. I'd be in that same position for so long that I would lose sense of being. You wouldn't believe how scary the jungle is at night, but you have to lay there in silence for days until the moment approaches. Either your target advances to a point where you can complete the task or they don't. And when your target never arrives, it's then time to retreat. I can't even tell you about half of the creepy crawlies I had all over my body when I was able to finally get up. Needless to say, I wasn't reviewed as a potential recipient of a noble medal of any sort...
Sorry, wasn't planning on going into so much detail about those things...
I understand. A lot of people have friends and family in the current conflict.
Oh really? Your nephew? What's his name?
That's a nice name. You know, they say there's a lot in a name. I wish him luck.
He won a medal? That's great! You don't say - so he's also a good shot?
A video game huh? Interesting. Seems to be a common theme these days.
Medal of Honor? Well maybe one day! We'll have to wait and see.
Not quite, not in this conflict. Actually, more soldiers were awarded the Medal of Honor following the Wounded Knee incident than in any other time in American history.
No, it wasn't during World War II believe it or not. The battle happened long before that - during the era of American expansion, similar to what is happening today in a way...
Well, it was a battle in the 1800s between the settlers and the Lakota tribe. The soldiers were awarded the medal for shooting 150 indians at nearly point blank range and then burying the bodies in a mass grave.
Can you imagine? Yeah, that kind of thing does sound familiar...
It is quite fascinating... American's intrigue of manifest destiny.
Me? What I do for a living?
I'm an investor in an idea that most people think will fail.
One time I was in Germany, and I met a man who owned a small company that took people in flights across the country in zeppelins - airships. They used to be quite popular in the United States too. It used to be the most luxurious and peaceful way to travel throughout a large city.
Yes, it is a hard sell to most,. considering that most people fear the risk of terrorism.
But could you imagine being above the streets and the noise, and just having some time with someone you love alone in the sky? Or maybe, you'd prefer to just take pictures. Think about it - flying from Chicago to New York in a machine where you weren't strapped down to your seat. You could have a conversation while sipping a glass of wine without having to talk over the engine noise. And then when you're done you could have lunch or dinner in the Empire State Building after you've docked at the top of the tower.
Well, actually it wouldn't just be for rich people. That's the idea. It'd be available at a price that most could afford. You've ever heard the old adage, "A picture is worth 1,000 words"?
Yes? Well how much is the most beautiful landscape you've ever seen worth to you?
The economy concerns me also. Well there is a lot to be said. Let me ask you this,. When was the last time that you made a living wage?
Never?
I did go to college, yes. As a GI, the government rewards you for serving in the military. This is why so many children from marginalized communities end up joining the forces. Except now, even these kids have to compete with "security companies" who send highly paid soldiers overseas.
Agreed. Things certainly are a lot different.
My parents? Well my mother worked at the Savannah River Site her whole life. Starting in the 50s, it became one of only a couple of places in the country where uranium was enriched for nuclear weapons.
However, I staunchly oppose nuclear proliferation.
It does seem contradictory huh? It's kind of like being a pacifist while carrying a sniper rifle. I feel that we've grown up and realized that "duck and cover" won't save us from the great flash of light that will happen over head in the sky.
Well, the Cold War is not really over actually. We're in the middle of a war that nobody wants to talk about.
Yes, those conflicts are the wars that take center stage in American life. However, we are yet again facing another civil war. We live in a nation that is hopelessly divided, and sometimes I wonder if we will ever make it out alive.
No, it's actually not about north and south, nor Republicans and Democrats for that matter.
We're in the final throws for our livelihood. People don't realize how desperate the situation for our youth is.
In a world that is so systemically globalized and mechanized around currency, there is no more room for creativity.
Well, we have more kids in art school than we have kids majoring in chemistry. But what are the art students taught? That television commercials are a form of art? And even these kids who do study sciences get picked up straight out of college by pharmaceutical companies and spend the rest of their lives developing drugs that keep diseases incurable. There may have been a time where the young scientist wanted to see a moon landing of their own. But people said that it was costing the taxpayers too much money... So instead, the scientist gets married and buys a house. And instead of shooting for the moon, his student loans kick in and he decides that there is no more room left for dreams and then he buys in. He becomes wealthy beyond imagination.
Yeah you're right. It is a game. People like to play tricks on one another. And God likes to play tricks on us - it's called deja vu. And if you pay attention close enough, you'll see history repeating itself as we speak.
Did you know that there are more millionaires per capita in Norway than there are anywhere else in the world?
It is surprising. However, Norway is also a place where there are no rich nor poor people.
Actually, it does make a lot of sense. But, it's unfair to call it "communism" with that kind of connotation.
Socialism? How about the New Deal?
How many men do you think it took to build the Hoover Dam?
Do you think the workers ever went on strike?
You know, they used to make really good quality things in this country.
I've seen so many people wearing clothes - shirts and hats with the dollar sign everywhere. And this is fashionable. Why has the dollar bill become the most important symbol in society?
In many ways, I feel that the dollar sign has replaced the swastika. It has become the new great symbol of voluntary oppression.
How many people will keep dying for capital gain? And how many of those with wealth will die for a cause?
People don't die for ideology anymore. This is where they have everyone fooled.
No, I realize that we're all looking for a good place to call home.
No, I don't have any children of my own.
Well, I guess I can't say that I do know what it's like...
But I do know what it's like to die and to be brought back to life. When I fall out of the airplane without a parachute on, I will realize that it is too late to call on God. Sometimes, I wonder where this civilization will go. They say that the universe is expanding. But one day it will all collapse on itself. This will be the ultimate day of reckoning. Even St. Peter himself will be up for review.
Familiar with the phrase "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust"?
Monday, January 4, 2010
January 4th, 2010
The radio DJ is talking about his future funeral. It's actually not that late right now but it certainly feels late considering that the sun retreats at about 4:25 these days.
I bought a book from the thrift store the other week called HERO TALES FROM AMERICAN LIFE by Francis Trevelyan Miller. It's actually really quite old but the binding is still in decent shape. The front cover intrigued me so I opened it up to a random page. I opened the book up to a story called, "The Tale of the College Student On The Great Lakes" and it starts off like this...
I bought a book from the thrift store the other week called HERO TALES FROM AMERICAN LIFE by Francis Trevelyan Miller. It's actually really quite old but the binding is still in decent shape. The front cover intrigued me so I opened it up to a random page. I opened the book up to a story called, "The Tale of the College Student On The Great Lakes" and it starts off like this...
"This is the tale of a college student
who, when he heard of distress in a storm on the Lakes,
left his studies and hurried to the shore, where he swam to
the rescue of seventeen lives and regretted that he could not save
more; a tale of unconscious heroism that crippled its hero for life."
who, when he heard of distress in a storm on the Lakes,
left his studies and hurried to the shore, where he swam to
the rescue of seventeen lives and regretted that he could not save
more; a tale of unconscious heroism that crippled its hero for life."
The book is full of short stories about common folk saving the day. And although the book and its stories may be a bit hokey for most people who prefer to read very calculated and ornate stories about crime or cowboys, for some reason I felt compelled to continue. Most of the stories are titled, "The farmer who saved such and such" or, "The young Priest who changed the nation",. you know, things of that sort. When you finish the story, be it about an explorer, or a homeless girl or a school master, it is revealed that the story is indeed about a famous American. For instance, the story about the young farm boy turns out to be the abridged life story of General Robert E Lee.
Today I spent over $50 at the thrift store. It's becoming more and more difficult to call these stores "thrifty". They are now indeed looking to make a profit just like every other part of American life and industry that was once an institution of service and public welfare.
Most everything I buy at thrift stores anymore are some sort of artifact that reminds me of a place that used to exist - a world in which we still live, but no longer exists. I bought a reel to reel tape recorder, a recorder (the instrument, you know like the kind you had to play in 2nd grade), a 35mm camera - Argus C3 (also known as the Argus "Brick" camera), a couple of old comics from the 70s and then a standard issue Army infantry winter coat.
I'm sitting in my basement at my desk wearing this jacket. I probably look like I've completely lost my mind. Well, it's going to be in the 10s and 20s all week. Winter has finally arrived.
I was reading an article today about going to grad school for the humanities. It certainly reaffirmed a lot of fears I had about the current situation of higher education. Then I thought about the rent check I just wrote to my landlord. $500 - poof. Just like that. Do you know how hard it is to come across $500 these days? Think about how hard it is to get a job that pays a living wage. They're really not that easy to come across these days. Hell, if we had factories left in Chicago I would love to go work at one. Nope, no industry left so it's back to retail after my short stint in the political realm. There's an old adage that everyone has heard before, and it's that "good things come to those who wait". So then I ask myself, what am I waiting for?
Today I spent over $50 at the thrift store. It's becoming more and more difficult to call these stores "thrifty". They are now indeed looking to make a profit just like every other part of American life and industry that was once an institution of service and public welfare.
Most everything I buy at thrift stores anymore are some sort of artifact that reminds me of a place that used to exist - a world in which we still live, but no longer exists. I bought a reel to reel tape recorder, a recorder (the instrument, you know like the kind you had to play in 2nd grade), a 35mm camera - Argus C3 (also known as the Argus "Brick" camera), a couple of old comics from the 70s and then a standard issue Army infantry winter coat.
I'm sitting in my basement at my desk wearing this jacket. I probably look like I've completely lost my mind. Well, it's going to be in the 10s and 20s all week. Winter has finally arrived.
I was reading an article today about going to grad school for the humanities. It certainly reaffirmed a lot of fears I had about the current situation of higher education. Then I thought about the rent check I just wrote to my landlord. $500 - poof. Just like that. Do you know how hard it is to come across $500 these days? Think about how hard it is to get a job that pays a living wage. They're really not that easy to come across these days. Hell, if we had factories left in Chicago I would love to go work at one. Nope, no industry left so it's back to retail after my short stint in the political realm. There's an old adage that everyone has heard before, and it's that "good things come to those who wait". So then I ask myself, what am I waiting for?
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
