y'all can't all be wrong: June 2004

It's 1:12 AM and I'm feeling like I'm smoking the midnight oil like I did last summer, but really, I'm nowhere close. Oh well, where's the merit in staying up till 4 and writing silly words?

Read my last 3 posts and then read Roger Fisher's quote below and then repeat his phrase undesired aspect 3 times and I think you'll be coloring with numbers on my horseshit psychology and fallow mental state. Something's here, I'm just not listening.

To me, one of the most important things is to have a clear vision of what it is that we want to do or become. Then, holding on to that vision every day, one watches it manifest. Probably the biggest deterrent is fear - fear of failure, of being laughed at, or of physical pain. Holding on to the doubt, fear or greed that can be attached to a vision will likely cultivate the undesired aspect as well. -- Roger Fisher

Somehow I landed in Seattle and I don't even like Nirvana. Someone stuck a guitar in my hands and I said "no fucking way dude." It's all a little ridiculous. The path to absolute differentiation is like broccoli in a blender -- hey, I'm me and you're you -- that's as easy as a Cadillac with bullet hole in it. I just read archives and history books and watch news that tells me how it is and I believe 'cause my aspect is undesired. I really just write in tongues, pretending -- listening to some internal rhythm that says, "yeah, that word there." But it won't save me. That belongs to amnesia and all its emancipating glory. I'm quitting my job tomorrow.

Iraq is to World War II as methamphetamine is to Gerber baby food. Our leader is mad -- let's call a spade a spade. A few years ago the administration was likening the war in Afghanistan to the Revolutionary War. All that says to me is that they were smoking pot in their 8th grade basic history class, and now they are just smoking crack. Eh, they've all been poisoned by the silver in their spoons and the rest of us get to pay the price.

But with pocket change heading down the path of 8-track tapes, the passenger pigeon, and (soon-to-be) the Bush dynasty (there's no way in hell the twins are beating Chelsea once they all turn 35), I think progressive cities should enact legislation to provide credit card swipers for pan handlers. The city could tax each transaction and then nobody would be cut out of the loop.

While reading the online manual for my new bass amp, I found this warning: "EBS will not take responsibility for eventual hearing damages caused by the powerful EBS-150 Drome." (native: EBS tar inget ansvar för eventuella hörselskador som orsakats av den kraftfulla EBS-150 Drome). I wish cigarette warnings would read like this. "Look man, regardless of your denial, we're not taking responsibility for the eventual lung cancer your going to get by consuming our product. In the meantime we'll take your money."

I was thinking about how much drugs have messed up my life and then I realized that my two extended bouts with unemployment negatively impacted my life much more than any marijuana cigarette could. You are defined by your job; and, regardless if you don't like it, you can't stop working. You can switch jobs, or change careers, but does it solve anything? If you aren't working, you are un-dateable, lazy, misguided, unintelligent, and an all-around loser. If you are working, you're just a lowly junior programmer, or retail manager. In the land of Capitalism-As-God, there are two rules: go fuck yourself and go fuck yourself hard.

Doesn't anything socialistic make you want to throw up? Like great public schools or health insurance for all? -- Kurt Vonnegut [source, via]

A milestone of sorts. I made a year (2003 June 14th). I never intended to make it this far, but here I am, even if the posts are currently in the stage of sputter. Now that I've jumped in, I'm setting my sights on making another year.

A few weeks ago, I scribbled a free-form essay on self-consciousness inside the cover of my copy of The Idiot. I intended to post them on my blog's birthday, but I forgot them at home. Alas, they will be posted later tonight.

In other items that didn't get done: I'm working on a small redesign of my site. I'm not adding color or doing anything hep, but I am leaning towards cleaning the link clutter (sometimes, when you are mayonnaise shopping, it's easier to make a decision when there's one brand instead of 20). Here's to hoping the redesign is launched by this time next year.

and readers, unknown and known. I'd write without you, but knowing that you check in every now and then makes it a lot easier. In truth I even feel guilty when I don't post 'cause I worry that Jennifer Garrett will get bored.

Everything that I want to say is within easy reach of my mind -- but to actually say it without pen & paper and with the ice of self-consciousness -- the instant judgment of ears -- self ears and the ears of those right next to you... I can unleash my wit if I want to -- my quick-to-judgment and quicker-to-understand abilities -- above and beyond the aptitude of the common ape, my fellow man -- but what's it all for? These words, this life, this auto-defeating quest for understanding. No, the words will ping-pong forever between the walls of my mind, the barrier & mother of all self-consciousness, of all megalomaniacal delusions, of pity and self-pity, of understanding & misunderstanding -- for thine is the power & glory forever & ever. AMEN! [written on 2004-05-30]

A few years ago I lost my job and subsequently traveled to Ghana. If you think "Beavis Does West Africa," you'll get the picture. At that time I was really down on "travelogue" stuff as it reminded me of imperialism in journal form: "I came, I saw, I conquered" (you know?). How about "I visited, I assimilated, I reflected?" I guess there's not enough adrenaline in that. Anyway, upon my return, I was loath to write about my experience to my friends. One friend prodded me enough to do a rush write on the trip. This was before I maintained a blog, and I never intended to make it public. However, since I'm in a bit of a (public) word slump, I'm posting it in its unedited and very-vini-vidi-vici form.

* saw the southern cross for the first time
* saw elephants and baboon
* puked my guts out with a 102 temp while watching the elephants
* walked atop the jungle trees 120 feet in the air
* kissed a black woman for the first time
* drank a lot of gin and cokes -- gin is cheap ($1.25 a bottle), and coke is the best mixer available
* befriended the locals where matt lived -- shed some tears on goodbye
* ate local food -- with my hands, no utensils
* fell in love with 3 peace corp volunteers
* missed all of the american football playoffs including the superbowl
* invented the new sport of drunken satellite wrestling in the attempt to watch the superbowl.
* didn't find the answers to the universe
* did see at least 5 fatal auto accidents and probably remnants of hundreds.
* did get in an auto accident, thankfully, not fatal
* missed and dreamed about my cats often
* craved for american rock and roll
* didn't take a hot shower for 4 weeks
* used methods of transportation that were unimaginable, the worst of which was a japan style mini-van in disrepair with 23 adults crammed into it.
* never got diarrhea but my stomach rumbled often -- it's rumbling now.
* learned to one-cheek a tro-tro seat for four hours without losing my sanity.
* learned more than I can ever imagine -- too much to write about now, especially without digestion.
* attended a ghanaian funeral
* found a great quote in a hut in matt's village, "in times of difficultly, lovers are few." -- I saw the quote and then realized why I made my trip.

"When you see the Southern Cross for the first time
You understand now why you came this way
'Cause the truth you might be runnin' from is so small
But it's as big as the promise, the promise of a coming day"
-- David Crosby

Imagination gets bent sideways because everywhere you go people are occupied but aren't listening and they always seem to have a word for this thing called life.

Think, then vote. If you can't vote, at least think. If you can't think and you don't have a vegetable excuse, then go blow your head off or become President because you are not using your brain anyway.

My cats are celebrating their 5th birthday today. Happy, happy, Madison (Madtown, Heartbreaker, Mister) & Pascal (Goof, Mister).

In other news, a certain, unnamed environment is sapping every piece of vitality I have. It's so bad that I couldn't jump rope in my workout class yesterday. Couldn't jump rope or do much of anything else. I was an embarrassment to myself, but I'm not out of shape, just out of mind. Fuck $$$ when your soul has cancer. Why do I do it to myself? I guess it's why I'm at home, fighting off a sickness called desperate enervation. There's relief today, but moments, as moments go, are fleeting. I think there's a lyric that reads "when I go, I'm never coming back again." Ween wants you to Stay Forever. I want to leave forever. I don't know, I heard these guys last night at 2:44 AM. That's good enough for now.

Cool, I get to work in a coffin all day today. I even arrived early to make up yesterday's lost time. What's more fun is when I have to drop everything I'm doing to accommodate others when they don't plan.

I am the one you think I am.
I am the superstar and
I will take you places inside your heart
That you've never seen.
I am the seer and
I can see what the world wants to see.
I am the revolution,
I am the revelation,
I feel so rock and roll.
I am the words that you've only wished for.
I am the fast life and
Nobody rides with me,
Nobody rides for free.
I am the last rites and
Nobody dines with me.
I am your flash fuck and
The sins of your flesh.
I am the seconds of ecstasy.
I am transcendence,
The blue of the sky and
The chills on your spine.
I am tomorrow, the deed of the carillon.
I am the penance,
Through my vision we pay.

What would be cool is a car that has an "oh-shit" handle on the driver's side (it would at least satisfy my desire for OCD completeness)...

I got to work early today. In addition to having less distractions, it's kind of cool, 'cause it's like arriving early to your own execution -- a nice psychological test. If you commit suicide on death row are you selfish or helping out society?

If I didn't already put the title into a song, I would have said that someone should.