la dee FREAKIN da

London an intro, London a recap, etc…

2012-01-01T15:23:00.000-08:00

There is nothing new except that what is forgotten.

-Marie Antoinette

The phrase “it’s like riding a bike” is often used when describing a learned activity, which hasn’t been active in a while. In my case it’s academia and the college life. Though different in many ways, not the least of which being that I’m 34 now, it is a comfortable activity that I find fulfilling. And hopefully fulfilling to a purposeful end.

But I should back up because it’s not just about Academia that I speak of, but travel as well. I have never lived in another country for an entire year before. For a few months 13 years ago (which I know makes me fortunate) but then is different than now. And now is me living in London, adjusting to it from the rat race of LA, while trying to concretize in words my experience so far.

Let me start and say that I will never claim to be a London expert. It seems that every time I walk around a particular area there are a million more things about the city that I didn’t know. I look online to check the pulse of the city or talk to classmates or patrons at a local pub, and like any cosmopolitan city I hear of cool places, interesting local facts, things you “have to do”, etc. But I suppose all of that is subjective anyway, isn’t it? It’s your experience that really matters isn’t it? It’s not about what they tell you in a guidebook, tourist website, or in person; it’s about your approach to it all. One thing is for certain; I always want to get to know the city better. And while I indeed know it a hell of a lot better than I did 3 months ago, more time and effort is obviously needed in order to broaden my understanding and appreciation of London.

I had this idealized notion that I would be documenting my day-to-day, moment-to-moment adventures here in London, but alas that has not come to fruition. What has happened is a lot of adjustment, a bit of depression, a lot of reading, and the homestretch toward thinking about (and working on) my essays AND the dissertation next year. Yes yes, I know all of those are but excuses. In truth I guess I don’t have an excuse for not updating all of you about the travails of coco.

Oh the poetry of a city steeped in this clichéd image of a false Americanized anglo-nostalgia. Wanting to believe that it’s what you think it is because you’ve watched enough British TV, ate your fair share of fish and chips and slurp-worthy roasts while listening to more bands from this side of the Atlantic. So as you can except in the land of Shakespeare and IPA there is more than meets the eye than the sensationalized media interpretation of it. Obviously. No shit. Though it’s never that simple is it?

Perception is reality in this ever-increasing globalized world. After all, if I wanted to I could do nothing but watch American TV and movies on my laptop without going out and experiencing something not American. Or even British TV and movies. Technology has made many of us more insular and isolated that what would have been an opportunity to get off your ass and wander about in a world you didn’t know, becomes an almost passive aggressive non-excuse for not having to make any effort at all to broaden your worldview – even in the slightest. Just go to school, come back, pop open your laptop and watch and absorb all kinds of media until your hearts content. God Bless America --- ummm--- God Save the Queen – ummm… yeah. Yet that is not what I want out of this.

As I write this I’m chillin’ in my room, having floated through a very uneventful Christmas, a much more eventful New Year, and just thinking about how I got to this point in my life where I’m actually living here. You ask me a year ago if this is where I’d be at this moment, I wouldn’t have believed you. After 10 years spent in Southern California, I’m halfway across the world. And here I am: 34, single, living in a small room, no good friends nearby and leaving an established life on one end of the world in an attempt to further it on another end. Eek…. It’s a risk I know. Going back to school, and all that it entails, is certainly an adjustment. My goal, of course, is to move back to California. But before I do that, I must keep an open mind and finish my new journey that I chose for myself. A journey that has just begun.

Living in another country is a once in a lifetime opportunity I don’t want to squander. And now it’s here. The reality is set. I’m the guest, and I need to be respectful to my hosts. You form relationships with other people from other parts of the world, and as a result appreciate how similar we all are as human beings no matter what ignorant nationalist politicians proclaim. I guess that’s a ‘no shit’ statement, right?

So why am I here? I’m studying Material and Visual Culture at University College London, the impetus of me being here in the first place. I felt it was the right program for the right change at the right time of my life. And I love it. It was the right decision. And though I’m many years removed since last I went to school, one change I did expect was probably the obvious one: I’m older than most of the people on my course. In some cases over 10 years older. This is really the first time in my life I’ve experienced something like this. The experience of being that older guy. It’s kind of weird actually. I feel old, even though I know I’m not. I am that “mature student,” as they say. And I’m not the only one. All of this is par for the course after nearly a decade’s absence from academia I realize, and yet it does cause me to view myself (slightly) differently in that context. The age and professional world factors reveal how, in my eyes, there are fewer people I can relate to on that level. Yet if I were to turn the tables on myself, I’m not married or in a committed relationship, I don’t have kids, I’m not the oldest person, I’m not a woman, along with a host of other factors I’m not even considering; all of which I can’t relate to. So maybe it equals out.

But what of the city? Where have I gone? What have I done? In short, a lot and not enough. Again, I’m no expert of London. I’ve traversed it by Train, Tube, Bus, Cab as well as by my own two feet. I’ve hit up Pubs, clubs, hip places, lame places. I’ve passed out at parties, pissed in alleys, and have had tons of Indian food. I went out during Guy Fawkes Night and watched the fireworks while inebriated. I went to a Chinese Buffet, in Chinatown, and almost got sick eating too much because I didn’t want to pay a waste charge. I went to Oxford Circus during Christmas shopping season, which almost drove me insane with how busy it was. My one star sighting is Rupert Grint (aka Ron Weasley), and I’ve heard that Jarvis Cocker and Daman Albarn are douchebags, but what do I know? Oh and I ended being the DJ, for part of the night, at a postgrad department Christmas party. Turns out more people were dancing to booty music than my impeccable library of new wave gems. (Someone even played Bloodhound Gang **shakes head**).

I’ve been to a lot of different areas, a lot of the touristy places, and yet I know I’ve experienced only a tiny fraction of what the city has to offer. During the term I found myself struggling to venture outside the confines of my central London digs. After all, my excuse was, and it’s a very valid one, I had tons of reading and work to do. (Mostly reading until the essays.) Yet I knew I needed to get out and breathe in that brisk English air. Get my cuppa (translation – cup of tea). Limiting myself in the London city experience seems tantamount to wasting my time out here regardless of what my grades are at school.

How do I achieve my London experience? Well one of the simplest (and cheap) things I like to do is to improve my mental geography of city. I like to walk around and get to know the area. The beauty of walking around central London for the wandering expat like myself is that, even though I have my own pocket map of the city, there are plenty of public maps in public spaces scattered all throughout. It kind of gives you this freedom to get lost if you want. Central London is also small and compact enough that you can cover a lot of ground in just a couple hours. Even when you venture out from central to east London it’s still similar in that way. Many times I don’t even bring my map, especially if I’m walking around central London. It’s an old city and the streets aren’t laid out all grid-like, so when I make random turns I can easily get disoriented – that is until I come upon a public map. Sometimes getting lost is just what you need to get to know the city that much better.

Cool areas? Well the first area I really hung out with classmates at was Camden Town. That’s where I was on October 8^th (ie my birthday), and I danced to “Power of Love”, because… WHY NOT?

East London, stereotypically, is where all the cool kids and hipsters live. I’ve been out there a few times and it’s been fun. That’s where I was for Guy Fawkes Night. I’ve walked all through Shoreditch, Hoxton and Dalston. Shoreditch and Hoxton, from what I’m told, are recently gentrified. So they used to be cheaper and more bohemians areas, now they are becoming more expensive and yuppie-ized. Evidently Dalston is where everything is happening now. I need to go out East more that’s for sure.

I’ve hung out in Soho a few times as well, but I’ve passed by it or through it tons of times because it’s in central London. I’ve walked thru Soho’s red-light district, passed by all the rad restaurants and pubs, cruised down Berwick St which has all kinds of cool shops, including my favorite London record store so far: Sister Ray.

And then there is beer.

Let’s just say I’ve drank a lot beer in my time out here, though none of it hindered me from my schooling. It’s just such a pub culture. It’s where you meet people. It’s easy place to hang out, grab some food, have a laugh. It’s a cultural pastime almost. And the ales are good and ubiquitous.

(Regarding beer, one thing that I found interesting is that Fosters is really popular out here. It’s like the Bud Light of pubs. In the US I think it’s safe to say that Fosters is always the other beer (like Heineken). You just don’t think about buying it. On the other hand Guinness is not only as popular as in the states, possibly moreso, but it actually tastes different out here. Good Different. The best way I can describe it, and it still sounds vague, is that it tastes like Guinness but so much better.)

Unfortunately one thing I don’t do that often is go to the movies, which has always been a joy of mine. It could be said that going to pubs have taken the place of going to movies for me, but the whole vibe of the town is different when it comes to cinema compared to LA. But I’m trying to at least keep up or tread water with films that are coming out. The problem is that films usually come out later in the UK than they do the states. Sometimes they come out months later. This is, of course, unless it’s an English or European film, than it will probably come out here first. And while in Los Angeles there are a fair share of independent art house cinemas, in London there are very few. The Rio Cinema in Dalston is one of them.

As I said before, I’ve eaten a lot of Indian Food out here. It’s easy to do since there are Indian spots and Indian food everywhere. And when I say “everywhere,” that is not an exaggeration. They are everywhere. Certainly a result of the British governing India in some way for the better part of two centuries, and subsequent Indian migration to the UK. The most famous place for good and cheap Indian food in London is the area of Brick Lane over in East London. But aside from Brick Lane, Indian places and Indian food are just an integral part of London life. Even with classic American brands you find Indian options. Take for example Subway; out here they have a Chicken Tandoori sub and a Chicken Tikka sub, if you believe it. The brand Uncle Bens, (you know Uncle Bens rice?) sells Masala sauce in the UK. And those are just two examples of many. So what you get is a lot of options for Indian food whether you’re making at home or going out. All the restaurants I’ve been to are good, yet I’ve only been to a small number of them. Also, as a footnote, I’m told (by one of my professors) that most Indian restaurants out here are actually Bangladeshi, though aside from occasional signage I wouldn’t know how to tell the difference.

If one loves shopping, which isn’t me, then one classic Central London spot is the greater Oxford Circus area. I’ve walked around a lot of the shopping areas of London, and this one seems to be the craziest. And by craziest I mean busiest.

In short, London is a city. A very expensive and very crowded city. The skies like to be grey a lot. It certainly likes to rain a lot. (The key to acclimating to the weather in London is LAYERING). The rest are cultural eccentricities – from both sides of the Atlantic. In one of my classes this past term, the professor asked if it could be argued that people in London have more in common with those that live in New York City as opposed to those who live in the English countryside. Do cosmopolitan cities inherently share the same DNA no matter what flag it flies? Personally in our growing technologically globalized world, that argument becomes more persuasive to me.

When I left lala land, I made no illusions. I knew that I was risking a lot coming here, and on occasion I find myself second-guessing this decision yet I keep pressing on. And for those of you who I’ve emailed, skyped or google chatted with, seriously THANK YOU. It really does mean a lot.

One of the most common questions that was bandied about when I first got here was “what are you going to do with your degree?” “What kind of job/career are you looking at getting? etc…” And what I always say is I’m keeping an open mind, but what I DO know is that I want to move back to California eventually and get back into industry in some way.

There is more to come this year in my blogging, I assure all of you. I’m going to attempt to post often, but be patient with me – and feel free to bug me about it.

Until then – off to the pub I go.

-c

Reflections of London: Down Time

2011-05-24T21:25:00.000-07:00

I woke up Wednesday, a full week after I left lala land, with the knowledge that I would be going to Down House, the home of Charles Darwin. It was really the only thing I had planned for the day. The idea was I didn’t want to rush or try to squeeze a billion things into one day like I had been doing. So I was going to take it down a notch. A nice, casual and relaxing ride down to Kent was in store. Visiting Down House I knew would invite great reflection, not only because of the historic and religious undertones that permeate from going to a place like that, but because since I grew up in a very religious bubble in the Midwest, I knew first hand the taboo of uttering the name of the antichrist himself: Charles Darwin. It was evidently clear that the British were unashamedly proud of this favorite son of theirs. They proudly uphold the theory of evolution, the cornerstone of modern biology, as being English born and laud the legacy which came from it. (I mean Charles Darwin’s face is on the 10-pound note to give you an idea.)

Down House was one of the first actual specific places I had planned on going to before I even left for London. I knew I was going to see a lot of the sights of the city since I was going to be there for a couple weeks, but Down House was the one place that I really needed to see I think. It’s not like a Mecca or anything for me. It’s not like my lifelong pilgrimage has been fulfilled by going there; in many ways I felt that, if nothing else, I needed to tick it off my bucket list. However at the same time, since I do have very strong views on how science and religion are clashing in America, I wanted to step into the epicenter first hand. So I looked to see what the hours of operation were and I was pleasantly surprised that Wednesday thru Sunday were the only days it was open (at least that week). Coincidentally it just felt like the perfect day to do it as well. Wanting to get down there as early as possible (since the place closed at 4), I didn’t want to wait too long before I caught my train. I ate my breakfast, chatted with Christina for a little bit and then off I went.

To get to Down House from Christina’s place I had to take a 10 minute train ride from Peckham Rye to Bromley South station after which I would hop on the one bus line which goes all the way to Downe. The bus ride itself was a nice and relaxing 40 minutes jaunt south of the city and into the countryside. A peek into the pastoral beauty of suburban England. There were only a handful of us actually on the bus to begin with, and through the countryside and the periodic stops along the way that number became fewer and fewer. It was a clear day, and with the windows in the bus partially opened, a soft inviting breeze brushed across my face gently like a pneumatic opiate while the pace of modern life slowly drained around me with each passing mile. I enjoyed the ride down, though I didn’t really know what to expect when I actually got to my destination. With only 4 of us remaining when the bus reached its terminus, we all subsequently exited tending to our own agendas.

The Downe bus stop itself was nestled right in the center of town, or at least of the immediate square I found myself standing in. The Church of St. Mary, The Virgin, the very church where many of Darwin’s family, including his wife, are buried, was essentially where the bus dropped us off. Next to that, and its surrounding churchyard, were a couple pub/restaurants along with a smattering of homes and flats. I looked up from the church and saw my first sign directing me to Down House. It was a ¼ mile walk from where I was standing, so I didn’t delay it any longer. I left that town square and church and made my way up this small curvy two-lane road soon being surrounded by trees, open land and a few country homes.

About halfway there I stumbled upon a small trail that forked off from the main road into… I didn’t know where. Very Robert Frost-eque, I know. 2 roads diverged in a wood? Well more like one road going INTO the wood while the other guiding travelers to a memorial for one of the most important scientific discoveries ever. (Too much? Too heavy?) Anyway, at that moment I decide to take ‘the road less traveled’, which in truth seemed like a popular country trail. It felt indeed oft trodden while being somewhat nestled and set back from the road, though to me I was swarmed with this feeling of nostalgia walking through it. Childhood memories of me walking around the trails and wetlands situated behind the school my dad taught at, waiting for him to be done with class. The old railroad tracks, the alien tree (extra points for those who know what that is), the old bridge (which years later collapsed once the tracks were pulled up) and remembering, with still a sense of disappointment, when they plowed acres of natural beauty away to make room for the new church building. I remember taking my ex-girlfriend back there with me years ago; a moment in time of young lust shall I say? Every time I return to Michigan I always have to walk those trails or what’s left of them now. That and the litany of parks, lakes, and virgin land easily accessible from my house. Camping (actual camping not partying in a RV park by a lake), Bonfires with friends, I even have some fond memories of Summer Camp, even though I hated working there, and those fond memories all have to do with nature in some way. That is what’s truly sacred for me.

Small sticks and leaves crunching under my feet, birds chirping, the strong botanic and floral smell of this quiet serenity; I’m glad I made this brief diversion. I walked thru trees, hedges and brush ultimately revealing a beautiful open expanse of sun drenched English land.
To my right was a small thicket-glazed fence structure which I followed for a ways. I was alone though. No one around me that I saw for miles. It felt quite relaxing. I thought about how half a world away my actual life, the day-to-day grind that I had left in Los Angeles, was on hold, in limbo. I was in the grey area of ‘what to do next’. My mind was suddenly flooded with all kinds of existential thoughts: goals, accomplishments and what ifs. Where would I be in a year? Would I ever accomplish my still incomplete creative goals? What about career? Would I ever find a beautiful and sophisticated woman that would tolerate my craziness for more than 5 minutes? Would I have a family? Would I be able to travel with this much freedom again? And what about friends and family I do have? Who’s real? Who’s fake? Who really wants to know me? Yes, feelings and thoughts that everyone has, I know. And for the more severe cases I suppose it’s something for a therapist to hear, yet I couldn’t help myself. My dreamer switch flipped on and my emotions got the best of me. So I stood there lost in thought staring off into this expanse… alone… and felt totally at peace. This was my therapy. My ‘breakthrough’, of course, was the quick return to reality and realization that the world doesn’t revolve around me nor anyone else. Charles Darwin faced that very conundrum when refining his theory of evolution. Philosophically and theologically it was a scary moment. Many religious teachings put man at the center of god’s divine creation plan and subsequent journey to eternal salvation, however the evidence showed Darwin that human beings aren’t the center of everything. They never were. That we homo sapiens are part of an evolving cosmic process that has been around for billions of years and baring a massive planetary catastrophe will continue to evolve for billions more. 99% of all species that ever lived on this planet are already extinct. 99%. It just so happens that through chance and chaos our species is controlling things on Earth right now, but that can change. The earth isn’t committed to us, neither is the universe. But you can’t dwell on that. Just like I can’t dwell on these idealized memories of some reimagined past filtered through a prism of nostalgia all while standing in a field staring off into eternity. I know there are a lot of people in the world less fortunate than I am, going through much worse shit in even worse circumstances. I make no illusions about any of that. And yet here I am, unemployed and traveling the world freely. Consider my blessings counted.

The path went on further still, but I realized that time was of the essence. A quick about face and I was heading back. Continuing down the main road, the road well traveled, I asked a passerby how much further to Down House and he told me it was just around the bend. And so I continued, and soon was there.

Down House is seemingly a plantation-style Victorian 3 story. It’s big, but not ridiculous multimillion dollar mansion big. And it’s situated on plenty of land. Looking out into the yard and gardens I can see the appeal this must’ve had for Charles Darwin and his family. The peaceful serenity of nature. And for Charles Darwin specifically, the ability to study and research without the distractions of the big city. I got it.

It was there at that house, that Charles Darwin raised his children, planted deep roots in the community, as well as took the better part of 20 years writing and refining his theory evolution thru natural selection the end product, as we all know, being “On the Origin of Species”. It is a landmark in science and the progression of human thought. Our understanding of the natural world has been shaped definitively by evolution. Just like with Newton and the theory of gravity, or Einstein and the theory of relativity, or Galileo and the idea of heliocentrism – and Galileo was jailed by the church and died there because of his controversial theory that, yes, Earth and more to the point humans weren’t the center of everything. Dangerous! However it must be noted that there are many religious people today that have no problem being a devotee to whatever faith they choose to adhere to while at the same time acknowledging evolution as scientific fact. Progress can take time, but it’s happening.

At Down House I enter and buy my admission, being told first to go upstairs for the self-guided part, and then when I was done come back downstairs for the audio guided part, which also included the gardens outside. No camera’s allowed though, at least inside. And since I’m obviously a big admirer of Darwin’s, I felt that I shouldn’t just zip through this place haphazardly. I wanted to absorb every millimeter. Read every caption of every picture, artifact, and sample in every room. And so I did essentially that… at least upstairs.

When I get to the top of the stairs I look around, and what was once a floor of bedrooms and the like were now galleries of the evolution of evolution. Starting with the history of his family: Charles Darwin and his wife Emma were first cousins (I didn’t know that) who came from money. Darwin never really had to work outside of what he was expected to be as an upper-class Englishman. However while he did come from money, as I said, he also came from a family scientists and freethinkers. His father, father-in-law, grandfather as well as others were all key in him getting to where he was before he set out on his historic voyage of the Beagle. Darwin was enamored with the natural world, and while there was a point, it is said, that Darwin contemplated becoming a priest, after the HMS Beagle, everything changed.

Amongst the different rooms and galleries, there were all kinds of artifacts, books, tools and specimens. There was even one part of the upstairs section where they had this holographic reenactment of Charles Darwin on the HMS Beagle in a rainstorm, cataloguing specimens he had just acquired. That was cool I guess. There were interactive parts of the museum where you can see the practical applications of evolution today, on top of a kids section that YES I played around in. It was fun! I remember one point in particular where there was this faux mailbox with paper and pencils right next to it. They wanted people to, if so desired, write down what their thoughts on the museum or even Darwin himself were, after which the note would be placed in the box and ‘they’ would display it in the upstairs area of the museum. I participated. And while the museum was certainly praising Darwin and his accomplishments, they didn’t shy away from all the controversy that surrounded evolution. What it meant especially for religion and the literalist view of the Biblical creation story. However, like most of the global scientific community, his accomplishments supercede any criticism insofar as to negate its authenticity simply because it’s not based on the bible.

To put it bluntly, Charles Darwin’s theory of evolution through natural selection was the hammer blow for religious literalism in terms of creation stories… and many say for religion itself. With respect to evolution, it boggles my mind that we live in the 21st Century and there are people, even here in America, who not only believe in literal divine creation stories as told in Mesopotamian mythology, but are challenging, with some success, established and verifiable scientific fact. Creation ‘Science’. Intelligent Design. How can people actually believe this is helping our children amidst the sea of easily accessible information and our ever shrinking Global Village? Reality is reality and it will smack them in the face sooner or later. And understand this, with a future where advances in science, including the biological sciences, could actually constitute a positive move forward and sea change in a wide range of fields including alternative energy and the green economy, medicine, global warming prevention, agriculture, urban planning, etc… this denialism not only harkens back to the Catholic church in the time of Galileo, but is decidedly dangerous for the educational future of our children. Not to mention the fact that it’s a national embarrassment and frankly waters down our global scientific reputation. So while that alone besieges me with a litany of emotions ranging from anger to sadness, I step back and think, you know… File that under ‘History: Wrong Side Of’. Because science, as well as social progress, will win in the end. I believe that.

So after spending quite a while upstairs, I ventured downstairs and grabbed my headset and headed through the most exquisite part of the tour: going into the actual rooms and common areas of the house. Many were places where Darwin came up with this theory, most notably the study where he actually wrote it. Really cool stuff! But I couldn’t take any pictures inside. (Hey I got a cool little pictorial guidebook though!) However by the time I start going through the various rooms I realized because I had spent too much time upstairs, I would be forced to rush the downstairs part in order to have some time to tour the gardens. And so I did just that. Went to the Dining Room. Drawing Room. The Study, Billiard Room, etc. All the rooms were very beautifully preserved, and I could’ve stayed longer if time allowed. I needed to get to the garden and I had less than an hour to do it.

The Audio guided tour had me going to key points of interest in and around the garden area. Most notably, the sundial, the old Mulberry tree which is being propped up by some metal beam. A lot of the different paths that Darwin would walk down contemplating things. I finally get to the greenhouse which is right next to the kitchen garden as they called it. This was where his wife Emma not only grew a lot of things, but loved to engage in those Victorian garden parties. At least that’s what it said on my audio recording. It seemed like something right out of Jane Austin. It had that romantic tinge to it I guess.
Of course when I was there, there was not much growing in the garden itself. It was March, if it was the summer I imagine it would look a lot different. The greenhouse was still in many ways a greenhouse. I was able to go inside and walk around freely looking at all the vegetation and plants still being grown there. On the other side to the greenhouse and essentially connected to it was the Potting Shed. This was his laboratory. It was small and quaint, but obviously did exactly what he needed it to do. Outside and over to the side was the foundation of a never completed tennis court. But the most sacred of all, at least this was what I gathered, was The Sandwalk. It was a stone a sand path created by Darwin, stretched about a ¼ mile past the garden on an addition stretch of land that he also owned. This path, the Sandwalk, was Darwin’s “Thinking path” as they say. It is along this path that he honed and refined his theories, most notably evolution. But by the time I get to the actual Sandwalk itself, the whole Down House complex was about to close. So I snapped a few more photos and casually strolled out whilst taking even more. Enjoying the experience, realizing that while this is a place not traditionally seen as something to do while in London, it was without a doubt worth it. I felt like I stepped into a piece of history.

After I returned my headset, and made a brief pit stop in the bathroom I walked the ¼ mile back to the town center, going back up the small path again briefly, maybe just to say goodbye. I finally get to where the bus stop was and realized that I had 45 minutes to kill before the next bus came. So at first I just chilled out, sitting on a nearby bench looking at the photos that I had taken that day. I couldn’t help but think about the waves of antagonism toward evolution that are still evident. A PR tsunami of anti-science. In America, we have politicians, respected politicians, that don’t believe in evolution! Some even running for president, and there are voters out there who use that very question as a litmus test. What is this, 4th grade homeroom? Are we just going to let this happen? Establishing the falsifiability of theories through the scientific method is the only way we humans have be able to understand reality on a terrestrial level from time immemorial. Facts are facts, and while it should be as simple as laying out the evidence and the facts saying these are my findings and it’s clear through the avenue of the scientific method how I got there, the creationist or anti-science PR spin machine will try ad naseum to convince many that all of this is debatable. And while on one hand I have this very libertarian view that people can believe whatever the hell they want to believe as long as it doesn’t negatively effect me, on the other hand I’m like; Umm... No, THIS is reality! Let’s try facts you that you can prove without the shortcuts of mystical thinking. And while being skeptical of those who are truly the skeptical ones is an irony beyond words, I must concede that mudslinging isn’t the ultimate answer either – unity is. Thus the challenge is how do we unite when the divisions are as fundamental as that? That’s a question I don’t have an answer yet for.

Finishing up my photo perusal I realized I should probably take this opportunity to snap some photos of St Mary’s church and its surrounding churchyard since I was already here. I got up and began to walk around it marveling at the time and weather-worn beauty of this small abbey. Around the small wall. The various tombstones. The clock and sundial affixed on the church itself noting the contributions of Charles Darwin a Downe resident and occasional patron of the church. (It was well known that his wife Emma was more the pious churchgoer than Charles was.) Emma, along with few of their kids as well as Charles’ brother Erasmus are buried there. The churchyard itself felt very serene and peaceful, with this gentil sense of gothic beauty. At night would the demons rise up and flood the town? Hmmm… probably not, but it definitely had that kind of vibe.

Eventually the bus did come. I hopped on with a few other people, and took it back the way I came. Through the country. Up to Bromley South station. Train to Peckham Rye, and then walked over to a nearby Internet Café and enjoyed a little time on the web, purchasing my ticket to Stonehenge and Hostel for that coming weekend. After a little more perusal, I strolled back to Christina’s place getting there after 8. I casually made some dinner and relaxed chatting with Christina a little bit before we both called it a night.

Going to Down House was a very enjoyable day indeed. A day of reflection and education. The next day I had absolutely no plans outside of going with Christina to her boyfriend Frank’s house for dinner, and I was looking forward to that. So I was a week in to his adventure in London, and I felt I was just getting started. This trip was… shall I say… evolving??? ;)

Reflections of London: Getting my bearings

2011-04-25T15:49:00.000-07:00

What can I say? I tend to procrastinate. Even with this trip journal it certainly seems that excuses amount and stuff gets in the way. (But really I know that it’s just me needing to manage my time better). I stare at the computer screen glaring blankly into the emptiness of the interwebz and think to myself, don’t let these fresh memories of a once in a life time trip fade with each passing day. And maybe that is a struggle I have. Not wanting to admit it’s over in some way. Realizing that I feel more at home – more comfortable – more myself when I’m traveling and seeing the world. When I recollect and write about it this urge in me to romanticize is obviously evident, and forgive me, but I want it to sound romantic in some way. Even if it’s just for myself and my amusement – my memories, I’m writing this not to have some cheeseball “Eat, Pray, Love” travel ballad with the ironic yet unquenchable zeal of Kenny G serenading a puppy on it’s birthday as she opens her next present of pre-fitted doggy wear specially manufactured in sweatshops by 8 year old Guatemalan children making 5 cents a week, and by the time it gets to our great land it has a Diesel logo stitched on to it. Ah the fakeness and conformity of modern Americana. The purposeful ignorance that we are, including all the flaws and scars, a privileged people with imperial denial, stressed out and worked to death dreaming of a day when that 2 week vacation you’ve been saving up for 3 years finally pays off in a payout when you get fired from that accounts receivable job that admittedly you stumbled ass backwards into anyway. Yes I’m a cynical ass, but I feel in some ways I’m not alone. I believe it’s a generational thing, but alas those thoughts are for another time. For now, I must pick up where I left off. Back from Scotland, on to London in all its glory – and oh how glorious it was.

I remember waking up early the following morning, as I so often do and ate some Wheatabix and coffee while waiting for Christina and my adventure ahead. Both of us were still recovering from our whirlwind weekend and wanted to ease into Monday without rushing into anything. Christina mentioned that she needed to set aside time to tend to her studies and visit her boyfriend. So with a litany of recommendations of what to do in the city, I conceded to invest in one of those double decker Big Bus tour thingys, which YES does sound cheesy, but I have to admit was a good investment.

After breakfast Christina and I walked down to essentially the market area of Peckham Rye. First stop was to purchase a charger and sim card for the prepaid cell phone Christina was letting me borrow. The second stop was to purchase an Oyster Card for public transit. The Oyster Card works like this, you buy the card for 3 pounds, top it up with however much you feel you need to put on there (I put on 20 pounds initially) and then use the card for all public transit. Trains, Light Rail, Underground, Bus, etc. The Oyster card, in my opinion, is a must for anyone staying in London for more than a couple days. It makes getting around the city that much easier, and it’s actually cheaper than paying as you go every time. After this Christina than took me to two different stores for groceries. First was kind of a 99 cent store-esque shop called Iceland, and the second was a proper grocery store called Morrisons. We went in there and I grabbed some additional food for the time I was there. London on a budget!

So now I was set. I had food, a working cell phone, my Oyster card, the London A to Z travel map, keys to Christina’s place – I was ready to hit the town!

To tell you the truth, that first day of actually traveling around the city I had no plan outside, taking the Big Bus tour. Christina recommended that I take the Underground to Charing Cross and then hoof it over to Trafalgar Square and catch the bus there. Truth be told, there are Big Bus tour stops everywhere, but this seemed like the perfect place to start my journey. And so I did just that. Took the train from Peckham Rye to London Victoria – took the Underground from London Victoria to Charing Cross. When I finally got to Trafalgar and looked around it immediately brought me back to when I was 20 and walking around here. I remember our Vienna Studies group from OC got in to London from Dallas in the morning on a nonstop flight. Tired but excited with a second wind of amazement and awe, we went over to our Hotel near Piccadilly Circus and then immediately were ‘forced’ to go on a mini-walking tour of that central London area: Piccadilly, Trafalgar, etc, so as to not fall asleep too early and mess up our sleep schedule. But alas this was not the case with my current adventure.

I get to Trafalgar, and after snapping a few photos, look on my map to find the nearest Big Bus tour stop. I found it. I paid the girl an additional 5 pounds to upgrade to a 48 hour pass, where by I could get off and on the bus at any point in my journey in a 48 hour period if a certain site caught my fancy. The tour, while in some ways cheesy and touristy by nature, was cool. The guide I had was nice sweet little old British chap who would actually bust out in song occasionally while pointing out certain idiosyncratic fun facts of London history. (Sure he did it for the tourists, but you know what, I was a tourist and I was amused.)

Some fun facts I discovered on the tour: The statue of Charles I in front of Trafalgar Square and Nelson’s Column is in actuality the exact geographic center of London proper. You can go 1000 miles outside of London and you would literally be 1000 miles away from that specific point. The former location of Sweeny Todd’s infamous barbershop is now a Christian bookstore. Irony! The architect and scientist Christopher Wren is responsible for essentially rebuilding the architectural image of London after the Great Fire. So many churches and buildings are ones he had a hand in building including the famous St. Paul’s. All the Royal Parks (i.e. Hyde Park, Kensington Gardens, Greenwich Park, etc) have black painted fences, which was a product of Queen Victoria’s mourning of the passing of Prince Albert. Also another fun fact about London – everything (with the exception of national museums) costs money. Yes, London is an expensive city. So when you decide to come here, make sure to sock away a LOT of spending money.

I rode the entire length of the bus tour, which lasted a few hours. We saw all the sites. Went by Westminster Hall and Big Ben. Westminster Abbey (yes the Royal Wedding was mentioned), The Strand, Camden, went by Notting Hill (hate that movie by the way) around Hyde Park, Kensington Gardens, London Bridge, Tower Bridge, Tower of London and a litany of monuments, memorials or just pieces of city history.

The most telling of the memorials that really says something about the history and character of this city is the Christopher Wren column that is a remembrance of the Great Fire. The Blitz (the bombing of Britain by the Nazis) is an often remembered and very important time in British history that is memorialized all over London. Whether it’s monuments or war scarred building that are fully operational, but have purposely kept those scars as a reminder of that horrid time in their history. This is a moment in history that we Americans don’t really delve into much, at least that was my experience. We entered WWII late in the game and Britain had already suffered greatly by the time we got there. America has Pearl Harbor, D-Day, and Guadalcanal as big moments of our involvement. London, and Britain as a whole, were collectively bombed for 76 nights. Unbelievable.

At any rate, I’m still on the bus tour and there was one point toward the end of my first day on it, where we switched tour guides which was then shortly followed by a switching of buses altogether for mechanical reasons. Yeah I heard arrogant tourists, American yes, complain and complain about that – I just tried to tune them out. They say stereotypes, while universally unfair when applied with a broad brush and out of context, come from somewhere. The stereotype for Americans in the UK is one of arrogance and gluttony I surmised. And no not everyone thinks that way, but I did hear the quip about Americans being fat and lazy more than once while out there. In fact I remember I was talking to this one bartender, this was a week later, and he was dumbfounded that some Americans never even leave the place they’ve lived all their lives. I’m sure you can find similarities in small English hamlets, but these are some of the stereotypes. I never hid that I was American; in fact I liked talking to people when given the opportunity. For the most part, when you get past the stereotypes et al, many natives, I find, would love to visit America if they hadn’t already. I tell them I’m from Los Angeles, and they’re even more awed about this exotic land far far away that I’m from. A reaction that may mirror my own initial reaction when I first got to London. Oh the pleasure of getting to know the differences of each other in different countries and by proxy different cultures.

I rode the bus tour all around until I got back to where I started: Trafalgar Square. The tour guide pointed out before I exited, that feeding the pigeons in Trafalgar Square is actually a 500 pound fine! I gather since it’s a big public square they certainly don’t want to encourage more pigeons descending on an expected meal amidst a sea of people.

When I got off the bus I was a picture maniac. I took so many pictures of Trafalgar. Caught every angle of everything, including the countdown to the 2012 Olympics marquee that’s right in the center of it all.

When I was satisfied with all the pictures I had taken, I zipped up to the National Portrait Gallery, which is right next to Trafalgar Square. Now inside my first museum in London I was walking around looking at different beautiful portraits of people I didn’t know. At this point I was tired and maybe after a half hour inside I decided to head back to Peckham Rye to call it a night.

When I get back Christina still isn’t back from her boyfriend’s. I fix some dinner, chat with Daniella, Christina’s roommate and really lovely woman, grabbed a couple beers out of the fridge and relaxed for the rest of the evening. Christina finally came home a little later, and we chatted for a bit until we both decided to call it a night. Tomorrow Christina was to visit University College because she had a scheduled appointment with a professor, and I was going to go with her and hopefully tour the campus. Day two in London already had a starting point, but now I needed sleep.

I woke up early the next day and ate what was to be, for the most part, my daily breakfast for the rest of the trip: Oatmeal, Toast, Banana, and Coffee. The day started relatively early as we took a morning bus all the way to Kings Cross station and walked over to Bloomsbury, the town where University College is. Now the plan was, Christina needed to go to the library, then meet with her professor in the English Department, then head back home to do more studying. My plan was to follow her to UCL (University College London) hang out, tour the campus, then hit up the British Museum which was just around the corner from the school, if I had time trot over to the British Library, and then hop on the Big Bus tour for my Day 2 excursion. I wanted to visit the Tower of London, take a Thames river boat tour to Westminster, and then see what I can do in Westminster before heading back to Peckham Rye.

When Christina and I got to the school (after a brief pit stop at the student union for a cup of tea) there were many students and faculty who were “on strike” as it were. From what Christina had told me, the powers that be at the University and the UK government made it so that students actually had to pay some money for their school. The faculty, on the other end, where getting their pension cut. See school, and even higher learning institutions like UCL, are traditionally subsidized for UK residents by the government. People like my friend Christina, foreigners studying abroad, have to pay full boat for college education in the UK. Even with scholarships and grants it can still be way more expensive than what UK residents are now required to pay, which before this was nothing. When I talked to Christina about this in more depth later on, she essentially had little sympathy for the students protesting because there is this sense of entitlement that education is free out there. Christina had to work hard to get where she is, being in debt like many of us, and now she has fellow students that are whining about actually paying for school. Needless to say this subject alone could merit an entire post in and of itself. But I bring this all up because, many of the offices were closed when we got to the campus including the general information office where I would go to get the self-guided tour. So, basically because of this, and because it just didn’t seem like the right time to tour the campus, even though we had to cross picket lines to go anywhere on campus for the most part (which I initially felt kind of weird about), I hung out while Christina was in the library, then went with her to the English Department which she kind of showed me around a little bit. When it was time for her meeting with the professor, we parted ways for the day.

So as to follow my master plan, I walked from UCL to the British Museum. This brief trek found me cutting through the main student quad of UCL passing by even more protesters and people on strike. In the quad itself it seemed that a healthy amount of focus was on the Socialist Workers party. When I walked through the quad I ended up striking a conversation with one of these socialist worker guys. He told me that that coming Saturday (March 26th) there was going to be a huge march/ protest/demonstration/rally all through central London ending in Hyde Park. He was telling me that this was going to be the biggest protest/ gathering of people London has seen in a while. Over 100,000 people were expected to show he says. I gave the guy a pound and purchased a copy of the Socialist Worker newspaper and went on my way. I thought to myself, maybe I should go to that rally thing on Saturday. Right place, right time?? I was thinking it through admittedly.

I finally get to the British Museum and immediately head over to Rosetta Stone, the Egyptian and Assyrian exhibits, and finally the Elgin marbles (i.e. the pieces from the Parthenon that are permanently housed at the British Museum). They are marvels to look at and experience. Pieces of history. Important relics that show the evolution of our species and the progression of thought. 13 years before when I was here I saw all this before, but admittedly being in my 30s now, I obviously experience it differently, like everything.

Of course I also realize that all of this and much more at the British Museum were really imperial spoils of war that Britain still clings on to. Of course they argue that they were able to preserve these specimens, specifically something like the Elgin marbles, that otherwise would’ve become the victim of thieves and looters who would not have preserved it as well as they did.

This, of course, is an argument that is still up for debate. I know if the Greek government had their way they would snag the Elgin marbles ASAP, but that’s never EVER going to happen.

So after spending a couple hours in the British Museum, I decided to forgo the British Library and head straight to the bus. Since it was already after 2pm, my goal now was to get to the Tower of London and do the West End stuff before things close. And so I did just that. I get off at the tower, and since I neglected to pack a lunch of some sort, I actually grabbed a hot dog from a local vendor hovering right outside the place. Eating and walking, I get to the Tower and basically stumble onto a guided tour. Now while the tower is something that you can spend many hours at, I on the other hand, had a limited time span.

So I went on the guided tour, which was rather short actually. (By the way, the tower dates back to the time of William the Conqueror. It’s been added to over the centuries, but the original fortified garrison was constructed by the Norman invader himself.)It is still an active royal castle, and all the guides are royal military veterans, in good standing, and they actually who live there too. After the tour I went to see the crown jewels which I could go into detail about, but since there were no cameras allowed in there I’ll just say that – you know… it was the crown jewels.

I saw the biggest and second biggest diamond in the world. Lot of gold, lot of…. Yeah… it’s cool in sort of an abstract way for me, and I’m glad I saw it, but all that stuff dates back to a time where having that shit actually mattered.

Just like the Honors of Scotland at Edinburgh Castle, which are the Scottish crown jewels, the way I see it, the only thing that matters now about any of this, is the tradition it upholds in the eye of the citizenry.

So after viewing the crown jewels and snapping a few more photos around the tower I run over to, and barely make, the last Thames river tour for the day. By the way, I should point out that the Tower of London ticket I purchased through Big Bus tour, and the Thames tour was actually included in my bus fare. Again, I thought it was worth the investment.

The Thames tour itself was short. Probably a half hour, but I caught it as the sun was starting to edge its way over the horizon. Very beautiful and serene to say the least. We pass under the Waterloo Bridge, the London Bridge, the Millennium Bridge – pass by many historical focal points along the path to Westminster most notably the HMS Belfast a retired naval vessel which fought in WWII.
All of this was cool, but honestly I was just glad to get off my feet and relax on a boat for a bit. When we docked at Westminster, the sky was getting darker still and I figured this was going to be the last location of my journey today.

When I left the docks of Westminster I immediately made a B line toward Westminster Hall. The idea I had was maybe do a parliament tour like I did in Scotland just a few days before. After snapping a few pictures and looking around the area to get my bearings again (found the nearest underground station – woo!) I literally just walked up to the security booth to see if I could enter and they gave me a visitor’s pass. I stood in line for a few minutes before going through security, through your standard airport style metal detector, and off into the bowels of British democracy. I was just going with the flow, not knowing what to expect quite frankly. When I finally got to the info desk, I picked up a few brochures and looked around in awe at the magnificence of the interior of Westminster Hall itself. This centuries old gothic palace has lived many different lives. Another building dating back to William the conqueror. And while I couldn’t take any pictures inside I kept walking through following the signs that eventually guided me to the Parliament.

It’s when I get to the main lobby that I discover that while there may not be a tour per se I did have the opportunity to see the UK parliament in action. (I discovered later that they do have tours, but on the weekends and it costs 15 pounds!)

The House of Commons and the House of Lords were still in session debating issues and it was well after 6pm at this point. I went to the House of Commons first, walking through grand hallways and narrow staircases adorned with portraits of parliamentarians of old. I finally sit in the designated balcony area to view the House of Commons debate. And I was there for a half hour hearing them debate some economic issues. I leave there and essentially go back the way I came and then on to view the House of Lords walking past posher ambiance to I suppose symbolize that I am to view the ‘Upper House’ – the elder statesmen as it were. The chamber of the House of Lords is beyond luxurious. With that sort of old English piety to the traditions of the state, at the very back wall and central focus to me initially was the golden throne and its accompanying golden accoutrements. This was the royal throne. This is the throne that the Queen uses when she does the official state opening of parliament. (The Queen also has her own entrance to Parliament as well.) But statues of knights and saints with gold trim glaze this old chamber of democracy.

The House of Lords debate was interesting to me because it focused on EU or European Union issues. I found this fascinating because I had read up and heard before I even traveled to London, that the EU, Euro, and constant European integration is a huge hot button issue out there. There are some more conservative members of the UK government that would love to see the dissolution of the EU, or to essentially remove itself from it. I even heard that the Eurostar or Chunnel, the train that goes from London to Paris under the English Channel, was actually opposed by many conservatives back in the day (and probably still is) for isolatory, security and nationalistic reasons. The UK likes that it’s an island nation. (This was a conversation that I would have in more detail when Christina and I visited her boyfriend Frank for dinner two days later.) At any rate, after a half hour of hearing spirited and heated debates on this issue I felt it was time to go. I had been gone all day and aside from breakfast in the morning, all I had to eat that day was a crappy hot dog outside the Tower of London a few hours before.

When I exited Westminster Hall it was night. I walked around the gothic edifice with renewed awe at its historical significance. And of course it didn’t hurt that the entire place is beautifully illuminated at night. I passed by Cromwell Green, a small section on the grounds of Westminster Hall and looked up at the statue of Oliver Cromwell the father of the short-lived Commonwealth of England. A both controversial and revered figure. I found it interesting that a statue of him was actually located here honestly. Of course I found out later on that it was controversial at the time it was erected, but I guess to me, a foreigner observing, it seemed like a poignant yet important part of this country’s history, as well as a reminder to the monarchy about what could happen if they cross the line. Who knows?

I decide to leave Westminster Hall and cross over to Westminster Abbey. I know the church is closed, but I figured I would wander around and snap some photos and just take in the city at night. When I finally got to the West Entrance, I looked up over the gate to see the statues of 10 modern martyrs affixed above the Great West Door. Now martyrs on a church isn’t unusual I suppose, but this one had America’s own Martin Luther King, Jr. on it. Yes, a statue of MLK is literally on Westminster Abbey in London. The archbishop unveiled it in the late 90s and now it’s on display for the world to gaze upon. Though unreligious myself, I thought it was kind of cool.

When I left Westminster Abbey, I ended up just roaming the streets for a bit looking for Number 10 Downing Street, the Prime Ministers residence, but when I realized I had to cross over the Thames again to get to it, I called it a night. I went to the Underground, then to the train and then back the Peckham Rye. I get back to Christina’s, made some food, drank some beer, and shortly thereafter passed out. A lot of walking and roaming around the city was done in the last couple days. And it certainly wasn’t going to be the last of it, however I already knew what I wanted to do the next day. A nice relaxing jaunt down to Downe. The village and house where Charles Darwin lived and wrote ‘Origin of Species’. But alas that is for another post.

Thanks for reading…

Reflections of London: A whirlwind beginning

2011-04-09T15:02:00.000-07:00

Prior to me even getting on the plane and leaving LA for grayer skies and ubiquitous Indian and Fried food, I must admit I was a little nervous. Why? Well truth be told I had been unemployed since October, and whilst I had saved enough money to have a healthy enough trip (or at least I thought I did) my life was such a roller coaster of emotions leading up to March 16th that I didn’t really have time to completely process everything until I actually got back.

Being unemployed truly sucks as I’m sure many of you are aware. There is a freedom in it in a way, for sure, but over time the emotional peaks and valleys start weighing on me. So with heavy existential thoughts above and beyond just being unemployed, I needed a mental health break, and no sooner was I at a breaking point then did the date arrive and I was off on my 10 hour flight from LA to London.

The flight? It was ok. I can’t really sleep on planes, even after the repeated attempts to doze off – pull up that shitty airline blanket they give you, which is ALWAYS too small. The pillow positioned in a way where the top of my neck and the bottom of my head had some support I suppose. And then there is the leaning back in the seat; the ultimate airline taboo isn’t it? Many times when you lean your chair back for the, YES 10 hour flight, there is that ever so slight sigh from the person behind you that didn’t lean his back. Hey sorry buddy.

ANYWAY, I finally get to London. The plane lands and for the first time in 13 years I’m on foreign soil. Excited, I’m sitting, slightly impatiently, in my seat waiting for the plane to get to the gate. And when it finally does, I wish I could be joking when I saw my “American Airlines” plane park right next to “Iran Air”. I chuckled to myself a little, thinking maybe London is neutral ground. When they finally let us off, it was to my surprise how quickly I zipped through border check and security. I kid you not, by the time I landed in London to the moment I was off to Christina’s in the cab, which in retrospect I probably shouldn’t have done, was probably 20 minutes. And so I was in London… in route to my first destination: Peckham Rye, the area of London where Christina lived. A nice little middle-class area, with a densely cosmopolitan populace sitting right next to a nice upper middle class area of London: Dulwich (pronounced Dull-itch).

I finally arrive and ring the buzzer. Christina comes out to great me. We hug, I tip the cabbie and we head inside.

I must have had a second wind after I got into London, because at that point I wasn’t dragging but wildly awake. Maybe it was just the energy of actually being there. Actually doing it. Actually taking the risk and not thinking about all the what ifs and the consequences and the blah blah blah blah… all bullshit. I did it. I was able and I did. There were a lot of excuses that had swirled in my head before I initially bought the ticket, but that moment when I was there it was almost like those thoughts were completely idiotic because … I’m here.

I quickly put my stuff in the room I was to be staying in, grabbed a cup of coffee, and had some lovely dinner that Christina made followed by a stroll to the pub. I would’ve done that regardless, but I must note the fact that I actually landed in London on March 17th, otherwise known as St. Patrick’s Day. Christina and I walked down to the Nunhead a local pub, drank a few pints (I had a shot of Jameson of course) and then we headed back to her place. The beginning wasn’t over that soon. I had to get up at 6am the next morning to catch a bus to King’s Cross train station. We were going to Edinburgh. A weekend in Scotland awaited.

The train to Scotland was only 4 hours. By the time we arrived in Edinburgh that brisk Scotland wind wisped by my face immediately as we walked out of the train station. I was awake, but had in inkling that at the end of the day I would be dead tired by the end of it. That much was true.

The first day in Scotland was more of a getting-to-the-know-the-area day. We walked around central Edinburgh. I snapped plenty of photos almost immediately, however the first stop was our hostel we were staying at.

Since it was still morning, we couldn’t officially check in to the hostel til 2pm, so off we went on a wander. And a wander indeed.

I could see as Christina and I strolled down the Royal Mile, all the flyers and notices about various St. Patrick’s Day parties that had happened the previous night. Since it was the following morning, obviously they weren’t all immediately taken down, so it was fun to imagine what it might have been being there for that. Being used to that American ideal of a St. Paddy’s Day night, I would only imagine in another land, in another area of expatriates, foreigners and locals pining for that ideal that St. Patrick was the patron saint of whiskey and Guinness, maybe a different kind of euphoric cultural magic emerged -- and there may have been some actual Irish people there as well. It’s curious to think about those things I suppose.

I had a friend of mine tell me that he was in Dublin for St. Patrick’s Day and it was the most ridiculous thing you could ever seen, because the entire town was just drunk douche bag foreigners. Not that romanticized ideal of the holiest of holy days in the motherland is it?

Anyway, before briefly getting lost on our wander, Christina and I swung by The Elephant House: the place where JK Rowling created Harry Potter. Now I’m no huge Harry Potter fan, but it was cool I suppose. As you can imagine, EVERYBODY in there was a foreigner asking the clerks or baristas stupid shit like “Give me something Scottish”. Cue me and Christina rolling our eyes. But hey, I suppose we did contribute to the madness by just being there.

When we finally checked in to the hostel the rest of the day really consisted of going to the National Gallery, grabbing some Indian Food up the street and hitting up a pub. After that, Day one in Edinburgh was pretty much done for both of us. Back to the hostel, checked some email and facebook and without hesitation hit the sack. It felt good.

Of course I didn’t realize how clogged the hostel was with American tourists until the next morning when Christina and I went into the lounge area to get some coffee and a little breakfast. The first thing you notice is the noise. The loudness. The boisterousness. We walk into the common room and I kid you not it was probably about 20 or so young college kids on some spring break excursion I’m guessing. Maybe they were actually studying somewhere else in Europe and this was a vacation. I saw they had older liaisons or leaders that essentially rounded up the troops. For having a great first couple days, admittedly this was a bit of a buzz kill. This was MY TRIP, right? ;) I stared at these kids talking with each other… laughing.. making jokes.. playing pool… essentially commandeering the entire lounge. Christina and I were just keeping to ourselves sipping our coffees figuring out what we wanted to do that day. Christina may have been a little more annoyed then I, but it’s not that I wasn’t annoyed. It was just –observing these kids, from some University in Idaho I think, being…. well… American, I thought “Was this me 13 years ago?” Probably, I’m guessing. Oh to be 20 again. (Actually… I’m fine not being 20 for the record.)

After leaving the hostel, I had made the decision to make the jaunt up to Edinburgh castle. Christina had already been there, so she was just going to chill at a coffee shop while I did this alone. And alone I went.

The Castle was really cool, if I had one complaint is that it’s expensive to just get in. It was probably around $20 admission.

And then on top of that I decided to invest in one of those audio guide tours. All told I probably spent around $27, and that’s with no souvenirs. But I went in, after all when’s my next real opportunity to do something like this? And there is a lot of history in the castle.
A lot of proud Scottish history and heritage. And looking out over the immaculate expanse, over the castle walls toward greater Edinburgh, on such a clear day seeing even the North Sea in the distance this was undoubtedly a beautiful experience.

After the castle I met up with Christina and we ended up walking down the Royal Mile, which might I add had loads of foreigners of varying nationalities sporting a Kilt. (Yes, the kilt: a seemingly much desired souvenir item amongst the young and the drunk.)We ended up at Hollyrood Palace, ie The Queen’s residence in Scotland, and it was lovely. A nice juxtaposition from the medieval castle I was just at, and at the other end of Royal Mile. Next to Hollyrood Palace were the beautiful ruins of Hollyrood Abbey. At this point, Christina and I parted ways again. She went to the museum of Edinburgh and I decided to take a tour of the Scottish Parliament, which was conveniently right across the street from Hollyrood Palace.

The Parliament building is a fairly new building. A beautiful post-modern architectural wonder and somewhat of a controversy locally I read. When the UK parliament in Westminster allowed for Scotland to have a “devolved parliament”, which essentially means a parliament that deals with domestic matters, it was the first time in 300 years they were going to have some self-governance. This also meant that they actually needed a building. Long story short they picked this Barcelona based architect over a couple Scottish firms, and the total cost of the building, I read, was around 500 million pounds, which equals to around 820 million US Dollars. Yikes.

After leaving the Parliament building I walked over to meet up with Christina again. At this point my feet were killing me from all the walking. A big reason for this, honestly, was I wearing the wrong kind of shoes. I brought these combat boot type things to Scotland, without really thinking about it. Yeah bad idea. After 2 days of walking all around Edinburgh my feet were in pain.

Christina and I grabbed some food at this vegan place she really liked, bringing it back to the hostel to eat and rest up before we went out again to the pubs. However unlike the previous night where the local pub we went to was fairly busy but not too crazy, this night it was packed! Why? England vs Ireland Rugby match. HUGE! And might I say that Ireland kicked the crap out of England. Of course by this point I was fairly and pleasantly buzzed.

Christina and I got back to the hostel, setting our alarms for early again. The next morning we had to catch a bus that was going to take us all the way back to London. A 10 hour bus ride. And so it came to pass on our last day in Scotland, Christina and I got up, grabbed some coffee, experienced those young American college kids again, and had a nice chat with an Italian fella who was a globetrotting backpacker it seemed. Christina talked to him more than I did, but it seems that he had been living at this hostel for a couple months, getting free room and board from them in exchange for him doing little odd jobs here and there, taking groups on walking tours, pubs crawls etc. He told us he’s trying to save up enough money to get to India. India, wow, wouldn’t that be an experience.

We said our goodbyes and walked over to the bus station, caught the bus, and enjoyed a very scenic journey down to London. A journey that ended rather excitingly I might add.

Sundays in London is also known as maintenance day on the trains and underground rails. Christina and I get to London Victoria and right at the outset she noticed there was no direct train to Peckham Rye because of this. Still exhausted from our 10 hour bus trip I was resigned to just follow her, which I should have literally done in every way. We catch a train, that she soon senses is the wrong train – at least that what I found out in retrospect. At a particular stop, South Bromley specifically, Christina gets out of the train to look at the map. I didn’t follow her off the train because I didn’t know we were getting off here and I didn’t know how long the train was going to be there. (Big Mistake) There was a communication disconnect. Well as you could probably imagine, the train doors close, and like out of a movie Christina and I stare at each other through the window as the train leaves the station. Long story short, after failing to get a hold of her by phone (because I had misplaced her London cell phone number) I took a train back to that stop to discover she wasn’t there. Got back on went to London Victoria and decided to take a cab. My thoughts were, it’s already night, I don’t know London well, and even if I get to Peckham Rye somehow, my mental geography of Christina’s place in reference to all the public transit is limited. So yeah… two cabs in one long whirlwind weekend. OUCH!

Everything worked out. I got back to her place. She was understandably worried and quickly gave me a guidebook and cell phone and food. She was such a wonderful host. I am eternally grateful. Needless to say I popped an ambien and had a very good sleep that night.

Reflections Of London: A Prelude

2011-04-05T16:25:00.000-07:00

I usually am pretty bad at writing journals. Keeping a diary or log of the day-to-day life of the ruffian backpacker traversing the globe seeking extraordinary adventure; hoping to find some revelation on his quest, some meaning that will alter his stagnate life course, his lugubrious sense of self and what he has accomplished in his over 30 years on this planet, and forcibly push him on a trajectory of transparent self-awareness all the while ending up where at the end of the journey there is this mindful sense of healthy change and new beginnings. (You get all that?)

Maybe that’s what I want to capture in my following posts. My posts that I feel, after looking at the 800+ photos that I took in the 2 weeks I was gone, give me time to form my thoughts in a way that allows me to use my talent of intellectual discourse and stream-of-consciousness style reflection that I hope will open my eyes up in a way I didn’t think possible before pursuing this endeavor. And now it's been 1 week since I got back and with ample reflection (and a little procrastination) I think I need to let the cat out of the bag.

In many ways I keep a lot of stuff close to the chest. On occasion I’ve been known to disclose information about myself that I felt at the time was relevant, but maybe in retrospect it was a failed risk that ended up biting me in the ass. Ah, but all of life is a risk isn’t it? That’s the point of our being on this pale blue dot.

Reflection, revelation and crafting them carefully I feel is a great strength of my writing, so I hope to procure some of the most juicy bits for your reading pleasure.

In short, London and Greater Britain was an amazing experience. An experience that I certainly couldn’t have done without people like my dear friend Christina Pham opening up her home to me for 2 weeks. Friendships to be emulated. Debts to be repaid. Memories to last a lifetime.

So as I dive into the annals of reflection amidst the sea of pictures I have already uploaded to my computer I hope something in it lights a fire under my ass to not wait another 13 years to go abroad again – but 13 months? 13 weeks? 13 days? Haha Oh I can only dream.

We are all star stuff contemplating star stuff, Carl Sagan said. I suppose that’s what entices me to traveling the most; realizing that while differences seem to be ubiquitous amongst many of us, we are all so similar. (Yeah I know that the UK is not a drastic removal from american culture... come on allow me SOME poetic license here!) So hopefully more travel will be in my future. (Ahh the poetic attempts of a rambling caffeine addict.)

I’ll conclude this prelude with the fact that, part of my purpose for going to London, in actuality, was to look at University College London as a possible school that I would attend, if accepted. Their Masters and PhD program in Social Anthropology (specially Material and Visual Culture) struck me as an excellent program to let myself get immersed in. What can I say: I love academia. But as you’ll see in the following posts, my time there was much more than an academic interview.

I will do my best to update this regularly until as to entice you, dear readers, and myself. I look back at these photos and make no illusions that I'm a fortunate person.

I remember an old roomie of mine from my Vienna Studies trip 13 years ago tell me there are really only 2 times in a person's life that they are able to do something like this. When you're young, single have your life ahead of you, or when you're old and retired. Because inbetween most of us strive to make a living. It is the world we live in.

So sit back. Relax. And enjoy this virtual journey into my journey and the journey of my journey.

Or something…

-CS

P.S. Mind the gap. (Seriously. I saw a guy actually trip and fall halfway down said gap because he was running up to the catch the tube.)

Guess who is unemployed again?!

2010-10-04T17:21:00.000-07:00

Hey Campers long time since I updated this damn thing.

Well... it has come to pass AGAIN. I am unemployed.

Am I sad? No. The job, while I certainly learned a lot and gained more "tools on my belt of knowledge", it was at the end of the day a menial bullshit cog-in-the-machine corporate whore jerk off job. Some creativity but mostly "press this button here", "crop this image there", "spell check this synopsis here", "upload this to the web here".

It is true that while you always learn more at every adventure you find yourself in the work world (for good and bad), the most important thing I would argue that you learn is about yourself. And it's important not to be complacent and let your gellatenous grey matter between your ears soften and spoil with age. Life is about life experience and the community your surround yourself with. In fact I would argue that the meaning of life is friendship and community. Human beings wouldn't be alive as a species if it weren't for millions of years of evolutionary lessons that our ancestors learned and passed on from generation to generation for millennia.

One key thing I learned above all (and honestly it was something that I knew but possibly turned a lazy blind eye too) is that I can't work in front of a computer, doing computer-y shit that I don't care or am passionate about as a career. I'm not the cubicle bitch type, and If someone sees me backsliding to that smack me please! Like many passionate, creative people, I love to surround myself with those who are like-minded. (As the saying goes "Birds of a feather fly together.") And I love to talk... and talk (as many of my friends will tell you).

So in my journey through the unemployment minefields this time around I feel that I'm better prepared. More confidant. Happier. With an inkling in my head -- a realization that there is some sense of urgency that I know I had at one point in my life-- a sense of urgency that I feel It's imperative I harness again. And I suppose that this posting is a call to all my friends (and not) who read this to keep me in check. To encourage me as I will certainly try to encourage you. To love me as I hopefully have tried to love you in return.

They say in life everything happens for a reason. Now don't ask me to tell you who "they" are, but even if it's a little blind faith on my part I want to believe this is true. And I suppose the only way to believe that it's true is to make it true. Create my own destiny. Re-establish myself in my career and in my relationships. Not be afraid to take more chances. Meet new people. Have crazy unemployment sex. Fall in love.

The mathematician John Allen Paulos said, "Uncertainty is the only certainty there is, and knowing how to live with insecurity is the only security."

So here's to uncertainty. Here's to insecurity. Here's to Funemployment. Here's to creating worlds. Here's to creating destiny. Here's to creating now.

Who's with me?!!?

Chain Smoking With Pepe’

2010-04-25T17:42:00.000-07:00

Issue 7

Somewhere near Santee, CA. On a crack ass motel balcony, sits a plastic owl on a rusty railing.

The owl’s name is Pepe’.

It’s winter in California. The Sun is setting. Dustin, in a sweater, has a cigarette in one hand and cup of coffee in the other. Smoke is drifting away into the dusk.

Ingrid casually strolls up to Dustin, her cigarette slightly illuminates her face. Flickering like a firefly.

She hesitates then…

Ingrid: Been a while, huh?

Dustin doesn’t turn, but stares out with his still burning cigarette hoisted up next to his face as if about to take another drag.

Dustin: Hmm…

Ingrid: Aaaand it’s good to see you too.

Dustin turns to Ingrid and gives her a little smirk. Takes a sip of his coffee, then another drag of his cigarette letting the smoke slowly dribble out. Turns away again.

A beat.

Dustin: I’m 34 years old and I’m back… here.

Ingrid: You’re back home Dustin. You’re back home.

Dustin takes a long deep drag of his cigarette. Exhales.

Dustin: I know.

Ingrid: Then why so glum chum?

Dustin shakes his head a little, seemingly annoyed at Ingrid. He scoots toward Pepe’.
Ingrid is confused. Furrows her brow.

Ingrid: Oooooookay?

Ingrid continues to smoke. She stares off.

A beat.

Suddenly.

Dustin: Does Mary, Billee, Nate and-

Ingrid: (Interrupting) Yes they’re still all here.

A faint smile creeps up on Dustin’s face.

Dustin: Some things certainly never change.

Ingrid inches closer to him.

Ingrid: We missed you. Usually when people leave here-

Dustin: (Interrupting) They actually leave?

Ingrid smiles. Slightly nods her head and takes another drag.

Ingrid: Mariann and Lucas are still in Idaho I think.

Dustin: They did it right.

Ingrid: Remove yourself from the system.

Dustin: Jacqui, Gretchen, Steve…

Ingrid: Left around the millennium like most of them.

Dustin: I remember.

Dustin lights another cigarette up with the final embers of his previous one. Ingrid follows suit.

Dustin: (sighs) Yeah. I remember.

Ingrid: 95-97 was the peak…

Dustin: Jacqui went back to church or something, didn’t she?

Ingrid: Yeah she found some super Christian-y guy and-

Dustin: (Interrupting) God I miss her…the old her.

Ingrid: You miss the sex.

Dustin: I….. DO miss the sex, but I also really miss her.

Dustin takes another drag… contemplating.

Dustin: She did give the best fucking blowjobs that I’ve-

Ingrid: (Interrupting) I think I heard she has kids now.

Dustin: Yeah… that biological clock can be convincing I hear.

Ingrid: Not interested.

Dustin: What? In kids?

Ingrid nods her head in affirmation.

Dustin: Jacqui was saying the same shit when she was here. Remember?

Ingrid sucks in more of her cigarette, staring off. She shrugs.

Ingrid: I don’t know.

A beat.

Ingrid: You ever think about it?

Dustin: About kids? Umm…yeah….I don’t know.

Ingrid: Right.

A beat.

Dustin: I know it’s fear of commitment probably.

Ingrid: Or fear of success.

Dustin: Whatever.

Ingrid: Jacqui and I were like sisters though. And I loved her. We did so much together, and then she left. And I didn’t even know what I did. If I did anything.

Dustin: Because you didn’t.

Ingrid: You know what she told me right before she left? That she didn’t want to miss out on life.

Ingrid shakes her head takes another drag, obviously frustrated.

Dustin: I don’t know. Fear motives all of us in some way.

Ingrid sighs

Ingrid: It’s just… that moment where fear drives certain people like Jacqui to arbitrarily decide that it’s ‘do or die’…

Dustin: …Is obviously different for different people, Ingrid.

Ingrid: Yeah, but just the thought of pin-pointing what that specific moment is for each individual person would really-

Dustin: (Interrupting) …Accomplish what? We’ve established that the root cause is fear.

Ingrid: But what about trying to better understand our fellow human beings… through the advancement of knowledge… from observable data?

Dustin: That’s what this is all about to you?

Ingrid: I want to know their motivations.

Dustin: So do I, but this is getting into some deeply ingrained emotional, worldview type shit that isn’t easily deprogammable with certain people.

Ingrid smiles, sucks in more of her smoke. Exhales with force.

Ingrid: Then I suppose it’s purely selfish, but… I just feel like in being, not only an artist, but also a social scientist my, as cliché as it sounds, unquenchable thirst for knowledge has to be tended to from time to time….bitch!

She SMACKS his ass giving a devilish grin. Dustin, still laughing under breath, darts his eyes toward hers. They’re locked.

Dustin: That… just… all of that sounds arrogant.

Now Dustin is sizing Ingrid up. Ingrid sees that and plays coy.

Ingrid: Well, that’s not my intention, but-

Dustin: (Interrupting) You yourself just said the intention of this was purely selfish.

Ingrid: Yeah, but being selfish and being arrogant are two different things.

Dustin takes another drag and rolls his eyes. Ingrid glances over at him, and blows smoke in his face smiling.

Dustin: You know what I mean.

Ingrid: Don’t you just…

Ingrid inches closer

Ingrid: …want to know?

Dustin considers it then sighs

Dustin: Maybe… yeah.

Ingrid, sultry as can be, leans over and whispers in Dustin’s ear.

Ingrid: It’s passion. It’s confidence. It’s my burning desire. And my burning desire for my burning desire.

Dustin stands there transfixed….then decides to go in for the kiss. Ingrid coyly leans back from Dustin and takes a drag of her cigarette still burning.

Dustin: Riiiiight.

Ingrid leans over the balcony with a faint smile.

Ingrid: What?

Dustin just rolls his eyes. Takes a sip of coffee, drag of cigarette.

Ingrid: Hmm…so certain fears are obviously circumstantial.

Dustin: What?!? There’s no fear here I-

Dustin looks over at Ingrid. Her grin is even wider. She got him.

Dustin: Fuck you!

Ingrid: No fuck you! FUCK YOU!

Ingrid turns toward Pepe’. Lights another cigarette. Sucks half of it down and blows it in its face. A single teardrop wells up and starts to stream down her cheek.

A beat.

Realizing the sudden shift in Ingrid’s emotions, Dustin turns to her.

Dustin: I’m sorry I left.

Ingrid: (Softly) Me too.

Dustin: But I’m back now.

Ingrid: Thank you.

Ingrid is full out crying now.

Ingrid: I just… don’t want to be alone… rotting away… here...

Dustin takes a sip of coffee, drag of cigarette.

Dustin: Yeah.

Ingrid looks back up at him, as if looking for assurance.

Ingrid: You know?

A beat.

Dustin: Look, all those people that left here obviously thought they weren’t living life the way it should be lived… as if there is any right way to live it-

Ingrid: (Interrupting) Well-

Dustin: (Interrupting) …Aside from those basic social precepts (don’t kill, don’t steal, etc.) that our species used and perfected in order to survive millions of years of evolution.

Ingrid: I just think that no one actually wants to think after their 20s. It’s much easier to approach and assimilate.

Dustin: Because of modern social precepts. Stability. Career focus. Saving and investing money. Having that house. Raising a family. There’s a lot of pressure.

Ingrid: (Sighs) I know. People get weighed down by it, and then decide to have this time lock on certain things they can do in their life. And I get it, I just want to find a way to….

Dustin: (Interrupting) Ok. Let’s say you succeed and find some sort of variable, chemical or whatnot that is maybe a kind of predisposition that maybe motivates people into making these rash decisions. Let’s say you succeed in that. Let’s say you have the scientific, seemingly transhumanist cure for…. This.

Ingrid: Ok?

Dustin: Two points. 1. Would the sudden influx of new and verifiable data, and maybe even a cure, really change their minds at all? Do you really think they would just stop and take your antidote to normalcy? And 2. It’s astoundingly arrogant to proclaim, to them, that your particular way of life is better. I philosophically agree with you, but throwing science in their face makes them not only dislike you, but also dislike science.

Ingrid: So what? Mortality slaps you in the face and that’s it? That’s life?

Dustin lights up another one.

Dustin: Yeah.

Ingrid: Look, different people mature differently, but-

Dustin: (Interrupting) I’m selfish.

Ingrid: Don’t we have to be?

Ingrid goes over and puts her arm around him.

Dustin contemplates, takes a sip of coffee… drag of cigarette then…

Dustin: The friendship that we have… that we all have here. That we’ve had for years. It’s the most important thing in my life. I realize that now. It truly is what gives me meaning, but-

Ingrid: (Interrupting) People leave you. It’s inevitable.

A beat.

Dustin: This was a choice though-

Ingrid: Obviously.

Dustin: Done out of fear.

Ingrid: Indeed.

Dustin: Fear of happiness.

Ingrid: Fear of freedom.

Dustin: Fear of responsibility.

Ingrid: Fear of community.

Dustin: And then suddenly they question everything they’ve ever done.

Ingrid: Including “questioning”.

Dustin takes a huge drag of his cigarette and sighs.

Dustin: You know I was trying to think as I was coming back here… about all the memories… all the experiences… for good and bad… that I had here.

Ingrid: Some amazing experiences.

Dustin: Life changing ones.

Ingrid: Because life experience IS life.

Dustin: And then I think about what I had accomplished when I was here before. What I didn’t. About what my dreams were and why after leaving, for some reason it ends up bringing me back.

Ingrid: Point being?

Dustin: My moment of realization. No responsibility. That’s what it all boils down to.

Ingrid: Hmm… I see. So it’s not our slacktavist, creatively aware, pseudo-bohemian lifestyle being more fulfilling than eating the corporate dick?

Dustin: Creatively aware?

Ingrid: You really think none of us have any responsibility around here?

Dustin: Well think about it Ingrid, when you get past the basic day-to-day survival shit…there’s nothing.

Ingrid: Nothing in the sense of…

Dustin: (Interrupting) We who live here, have no real responsibility other than living. Surviving. We don’t contribute anything to the world. Make it a better place… really. In the big view. And why would we? This world is comfortable. It offers no challenges. It just asks that we be open to new ideas… tolerant… and survive.

Ingrid: Oh come on.

Dustin: All of us here call ourselves “artists”, yet what have we really produced other than an angst-riddled bohemian ideal of a some kind of slum-chic reality? One, which we’ve constructed ourselves, by the way, and have been living in for the past decade or so?

Dustin takes a long drag and chucks his finished smoke over the balcony. Lights another one.

Ingrid: That’s such a broad generalization. We all have plenty of responsibilities beyond bills and stuff.

Dustin: Like what?

Ingrid: Like to ourselves as human beings. As artists and intellectuals. You know, to our species in general which-

Dustin: (interrupting) Ok, let me stop you right there.

Ingrid: You were the very person that always spoke these discordian points of view, reveled in it and was on board with us through this adventure, now you want to stop the conversation?

Dustin: I don’t want to stop anything. Openness is very important.

Ingrid: What then?

Dustin: Ingrid, do you really think that waxing intellectual and being true to yourself and your art and blah blah blah….You’re going to tell me that trumps… I don’t know… being a leader… director… head of a company… teacher… mentor… father… mother….

Ingrid: Personally yeah, but I can’t speak for everyone obviously. In the broader sense I don’t think any one thing trumps another. Everything is on the same plane; it’s just how you look at it.

Dustin laughs.

Dustin: This is why the world will always have people like us. This is why we’ll always have our little nooks for our pow-wows. This is why we’ll be looked on as maybe local eccentrics. This idea of talking out the world’s issues yet never do anything other than talk. But we’ll drink, take all kinds of drugs, and fuck each other’s brains out all the while working on some futile and never ending artistic opus. And then we justify that we’re actually being creative and artistic and contributing to that world. We claim that we don’t compare ourselves with others, after all, all art is subjective, but we secretly do. And then one day we wake up and realize that the hottest artist in our field is 10 years younger than us… because maybe we’re past our prime? Who knows? But then we feel we have to justify AGAIN why we continue to be in this world. And we philosophize more. We slowly chip away at our never-ending endeavors. But we never ever address the elephant in the room. Responsibility. And it’s because we’re afraid, frankly. It’s because…we’re cowards.

Ingrid: What the fuck are you talking about?!

Dustin: This is why we’ll never leave here Ingrid. We’re afraid of what lies beyond this shit-ass parking lot.

Ingrid: You’re such an asshole. Why did you even come back then if you think we’re all fucking losers?

Dustin takes a long drag of his cigarette. Exhales. Sips his coffee.

Dustin: (Sighs) Because I miss this place.

Ingrid: Ummm…. Ok? So by your own account and given a choice, you’d rather be a loser with no responsibility? And… you…. Like it that way?

Dustin: Let me put it this way. I learned a valuable lesson being in corporate america for 6 months. I don’t mind leading. I don’t mind responsibility. I like it actually. There’s this energy. This rush. It’s very empowering and liberating actually. I just hate pretending to give a shit about stuff I do not give a shit about.

Ingrid: Well who does?

Dustin: Yeah. Sure. Actually, you know… it’s not even pretending to give a shit… it’s……. you’re forced to care about stuff you otherwise could give a flying fuck about. But you have to care about it, because it’s your job. You want to get paid, and that’s certainly how they get a lot of people. This slow corporatized, homogenized, masturbatory brainwashing that essentially coaxes you into believing that these database systems, internal folder structures, spreadsheets, work orders, clients and customers, sales and profits….that they all matter. That as a human being it matters. To advance our species to the next level of evolution… it matters.

Ingrid: That’s taking it a little too far, don’t you think?

Dustin: I don’t think so. Corporations may not like individualism, but they don’t say that. They guise it in this whole “team” mentality. “We’re all part of a team” “Let’s do some team building” “Everybody’s important to the team”… And from that it’s certainly implied that proactive individualism and creativity is encouraged and even praised. But that’s all bullshit. All they want are lemmings to work on the assembly line. Everybody’s expendable.

Ingrid: Look… dude… I get it. You just quit. All these feelings are fresh. You obviously didn’t have the best of experiences in the corporate world, and I can relate, but fuck it, you know? No sense being miserable when we’re both going to do what losers with no responsibility do in a few minutes… eat a bunch of acid and fuck each other’s brains out.

Ingrid nudges up next to him shoulder to shoulder. Dustin is in another place.

Dustin: Ingrid, the brutal reality is… all that bullshit matters… in THAT world and all worlds that are connected to that world. And if you’re in any of those worlds, then you’re undoubtedly forced to care about it. It’s-

Ingrid: (Interrupting) Who fucking cares!?! Seriously?!

They both take long drags of their cigarettes. Exhale. Ingrid smirks.

Dustin: (sighs) I just thought that was a path to some….answer I was looking for. I just realized that-

Ingrid: (Interrupting) You realized that you can’t be contained in a structured system like that. And that’s Ok.

Dustin: Is it? I don’t know anymore. Sometimes I feel like I’m cursed, because I can’t compromise my beliefs. I can’t work in a system that requires me to be a bitch forcing me to care about shit I do not care about.

Ingrid: So we’ll build our own system. Based on our values.

Dustin: Which was our goal way back when, and then…

Ingrid: You think we’ve become losers with no responsibility.

Dustin: I never said ‘loser’, you did!

Still smiling, Ingrid lights another and pats Dustin on the back.

Ingrid: I lasted 3 months as a temp at this Accounting Office like 12 years ago. And I realized that I just didn’t want to get to a place where decades down the road after looking back at all I had accomplished in my life it amounted to spreadsheets, filing systems, bookkeeping methods, regurgitated sales strategies greatly overshadowing everything else. That my passion amounted to a fraction of what I spent my life realistically doing.

Dustin stares off, seemingly in a different world. Ingrid continues.

Ingrid: So this new temp came in to be like a client relations bitch. He was super cute. I should’ve fucked him.

Dustin: Should’ve?

Ingrid: I know it may seem odd, but trust me I didn’t fuck him… and here’s why. His first day in, we’re shooting the shit and immediately discover that we have the same taste in music. Awesome! Same taste in movies. Amazing! We were talking about different art shows we had been to recently. I had mentioned that I was going to school for sociology, but loved to write. He was a musician and a writer himself. I swear I thought I had bumped into my own renaissance man. We were going to suffer through the trenches of corporate America together as freethinking rebel artists. I should note that I had just got out of a 5 year relationship a few months before. ANYWAY I tell ya, I thought I had found my anti-corporate pseudo-bohemian confidant in the corporate world. I was thinking as long as I’m working with this kid all this menial shit will be easier to swallow. We can both not give a shit and go home after work, rip a couple bong hits and be about our life. This is what my naïve younger self was thinking after having worked with the guy for just a couple days.

Dustin: …but...

Ingrid: (Sighs) It was not only that he totally jumped right in guns blazing and immersed himself in the corporate bullshit. But within a week he believed it. Was zipping out all those snappy corporate-y, sales-oriented buzz words. Q4, Q3, demo, PnL, net profit, web presence, etc. Cheesy-ass lingo to just continually assimilate himself. Power lunches, power naps… anything with ‘power’ in it. And he was being uber proactive. Listening in on conference calls and going to meetings as a temp. Joined the company softball team. Brought his golf clubs to work one day so he could check out a local driving range with a couple colleagues. All the while making workbooks and manuals, on his own, to elevate himself quickly. The more knowledge he obtained, the more power he asserted. And hey, that’s all well and good. People do it all the time. Many live the corporate life, and let them! But my interest in him immediately evaporated when I saw this. And it’s like, you try to have non-work or anti-work conversations… everybody does. Fuck the man, type shit. Couldn’t do that with this kid after that first week. I’m like, are you fucking kidding me? You’re taking this bullshit that seriously? I thought we had a fucking connection. I quit a few days later.

A long beat.

Dustin and Ingrid both take drags of their cigarettes. Exhale.

Dustin: I wish I had the love affair with chaos like I did a decade ago. Embracing the unpredictability it brings, yet reveling in the fact that you’re living life. You’re really living it! But I… I don’t know.

Dustin just stares off shaking his head. Ashes off the balcony.

Ingrid: We get older… and I suppose upkeeping certain…..things (for lack of a better word) gets exhausting. I don’t have all the answers I just know that…..I don’t like being broke.

They both take a long drag of their cigarette and exhale. Light up another one. Dustin tosses his empty pack off the balcony into the open dumpster below.

Dustin: Yeah, me neither.

Ingrid: So the goal is to embrace the chaos as it comes and compartmentalize it in our mind…output it as art. We create our own worlds, while building our own system.

Dustin: We’re such fucking hypocrites, though.

Ingrid: We’re capable of more.

A beat. Dustin takes sip of coffee, drag of cigarette.

Dustin: You know I ran away from home to live this life, but I have family. Blood family that… I barely know because of this. And I’m always one to not regret anything, because I am who I am today because of all my life experiences. Because of my success and failures. We all are. But lately, I have to be honest, I think about how I wasn’t there to be a big brother for my brother and sister through those difficult years of self-discovery.

Ingrid: Dustin don’t apologize for living life. For your years of struggle and self-discovery. Everybody does it differently.

Dustin: (Sighs) I know, it’s just …in the past when I would think about it, I would justify it in the sense that I didn’t have an older brother or older sister to look up too, you know? And it wasn’t easy for me. I was always alone through those formative and life changing years. But now I see them… my little brother and sister… they’re not little anymore. And I missed it…I missed them growing up… and the result is… they don’t know me… I don’t know them… not really.

Ingrid goes and hugs Dustin. Kisses him on the cheek.

Ingrid: Dustin!

Dustin: But this is my life. I want this. But I want them too. And I realize that that….will never happen. Not like this.

Dustin starts to tear up.

Ingrid: That’s the real reason why you got that job isn’t it?

Dustin nods his head, wiping the tears from his eyes.

Ingrid: So this sadness that you feel is-

Dustin: (Interrupting) Me realizing that this is really who I am. And I’m not ashamed of it. I don’t regret it. There’s things I desperately need to do differently now. My own family will never understand or truly know me. Ever. Even though I want them too.

Ingrid: Then tell them. Show them who you are. Jesus Christ stop wallowing in self-pity.

Dustin: Yeah, but my dad got me that job. He pulled a lot of strings too. I had a decent salary. But in the end, I hated that life. And come Monday… when they realize it’s not just a phase… or an emotional outburst… when they realize that I’m never fucking stepping into that fucking building ever fucking again, when they realize that I’m back here… I think…. No I know…. I will be lost to them.

Ingrid: You’re not lost here.

Dustin: This is the only real place in my life, yet I feel sad.

Ingrid: But you do believe in this?

Dustin: I want to, because I don’t believe in anything else.

Ingrid: What about your experiences… do you believe them?

Dustin dumps the rest of his coffee over the balcony. Takes another drag. Exhales slowly staring out blankly.

Ingrid: Do you?

Dustin snickers under his breath. He looks around, wipes his eyes again.

Dustin: This is it. This is my life.

Ingrid: It’s our life.

Ingrid finally lunges in and kisses him passionately.

Then…

Dustin: Let’s do it right.

Ingrid: Let’s…!

A beat.

Dustin contemplates then…

Dustin: Where’s that acid?

The End

the art of wasting a day...

2010-04-04T17:35:00.000-07:00

Wow, sometimes I feel like I am the Picasso of that discipline.... or on-discipline if you will.

Wagner + Excalibur = Brilliant

2010-03-31T20:45:00.000-07:00

Watch the final scene of this amazing film with Wagner's "The Death and Funeral of Siegfried" as it's score.

Here's the deal...

2010-03-22T00:32:00.000-07:00

Life is precious. Time is precious. We don't understand the mechanics, but we understand the reality. And the reality convinces us that because we don't know, it is that much more important to cherish what we do.

Although it's easy to say this... it's just words after-all right?

I don't believe it. And with unbelief there is uncertainty -- and with uncertainty there is chaos. Although chaos is with everything, isn't it? Yet that is where our meaning comes from. From just even realizing and mentally deconstructing chaos is not only chaos, but our self-realization that this moment is the most important moment ... forever.

This moment.

Right now.

This moment... it's eternal.

It's Saint Patrick's Day -- you know what THAT means!?!?

2010-03-17T20:16:00.000-07:00

Time to bogart an ethnicity for a night, drink away the night with the sweet, smooth taste of Irish whiskey, "celebrate" this draconian religious holiday... all the while harkening to the ideal of how life would be so much better if we were amongst the green pastures...the hard drinkin'... hard workin class people of the earth. Real people. That the vibe you glean from their "salt of the earth" attitude, will keep you grounded. Will make you remember what is really important. Will keep things in perspective for you.

Fuck real life and real responsibility. Dream about dying from alcohol poisoning on the south Atlantic shore of the Emerald Isle. Sláinte! How quaint and romantic. Oh wait... no. That's just fucking pathetic.
.
.
.
.
.

...YES I'm still waiting for my bottle of Jameson...

Moderation

2010-03-01T10:21:00.001-08:00

You know, ANYTHING abused and overdone can be harmful to you. ANYTHING. From eating shitty, to smoking heavily, to drinking heavily, to drug abuse, to sitting on your ass all day and not exercising, to watching Two and a Half Men -- anything overdone can and will be harmful to you if not now, over time unless you make proactive efforts to change. (Although I would argue that Two and a Half men, even in moderation, causes severe brain damage.)

I say all this because there is this new study out about Marijuana which says that long term heavy use can lead to pychosis.

Yeah .... NO SHIT. To quote Kat Williams:

Aspirin is perfectly legal but if you take 13 of them motherfuckers, it'll be your last headache.

This American Life - That American Show

2010-03-01T09:14:00.000-08:00

This American Life is, undeniably one of the best news magazine programs out there. If some people call it liberal or patronizing because the show's producers and host are predominantly, if not all, liberal I would heartily disagree. I mean, why can't journalism and good 'ol documentary style story telling be just that. Why does EVERYTHING have to be evil or wrong from one point of view or another simply because of one person's political or social stances. (This is a subject that I'll gladly get into at another time.)

I will say that the best "criticism" I've heard of TAL, is taken from the old Fox show "The OC" where Summer says all snobbishly:

Is that that show by those hipster know-it-alls who talk about how fascinating ordinary people are?" and, with a dismissive snort, "Gawd!" (taken from Wikipedia)

Recently I listened to a great show from their archives about, as Ira Glass puts it, a Hardy Boys type mystery. Young boys discover an abandoned house, that has seemingly been sitting there rotting for decades. Throughout the course of the hour long show, that in real life took decades, we discover the history of the family that occupied it, their status in the community and most importantly, what happened.

The House on Loon Lake

Enjoy!

Risk... a love story

2010-02-24T09:25:00.000-08:00

A few days ago I spoke about Risk being the meaning of life or whatever. Kind of over-reaching and esoteric you say? Wellllllll you ain't seen nothing yet bitches! In one since it was a Valentine's day soliloquy of the highest order. Whatever ejaculate of emotions that pour out of my loins, comes out of my heart, or head I guess, comes from me and inevitably gets splattered on this blog it seems. HOWEVER after stewing over this idea, the idea of Risk, I felt I needed to amend some thoughts on the matter. If for no other reason then to blab to the ether on why I think things happen and how there really isn't any absolute truth.

So here I go...

In the beginning there was Risk. And Risk has dominated our universe, our reality, our hyper-reality ad infinitum. If you think about it, what aspect of our daily existence - of any daily existence or non-existence is explained by nothing else than risk? Each and every one of us risk everyday, yet we don't think about it. Our lives are on the line daily. Each hour. Each minute. Each second. Every time we blink. Every time we breath.... we risk.

We risk when we drive to work in the morning. We risk when we walk down the street to grab a coffee at one of those hip, cool indie coffee shops. We risk when we eat. When we sleep. When we love. When we hate. Every choice we make, even if it doesn't seem like a choice at all, is risk. And we risk our lives. Yes we do. Because believe it or not whether or not ideas have power, which they do, bears no consequence compared to the physical application of it. The vessel in which chance, chaos and a random globular, membranous clump of cells decided to fester and grow to the point of creating the organism we call our temporary fleshy husk... ie us people, human beings, homo sapiens - a mutually agreed upon arbitrary label placed on an arbitrary species of an arbitrary world of an arbitrary solar system of an arbitrary galaxy of an arbitrary universe - this, our reality, all started with a risk. A risk that at the point of singularity... at the start of our known universe... the big bang or whatever you want to call it, there was a moment. And that moment has been the focus of human civilization since the dawn of it. How did everything start, and why? 'How' is still up for debate, 'Why' is risk.

It seems that that none of us really know how special we all are. We are the fortunate ones. We survived up to this point. Forget about the sperm and eggs that lost a seemingly forgetable battle for survival so that out of many came one and one... and that, under a mountain of significant odds against it, the two came together and formed a microscopic and cellular union which although seemed pointless and superficial at its outset, when we go with it on its beautiful journey of coming to being and, for all intents and purposes, true self-discovery (as true as 'true' can be I suppose), in THAT 'truth' is when the self-aware of us will come to utter those famous words Socrates spoke sometime ago.

"As for me, all I know is that I know nothing..."

We witnesses of our cyclonic (hat tip to Jon Stewart), maybe magical, maybe erudite smattering of random accidents that chance and chaos dropped at our feet, at our time, at our place, with our intellect as it is, words can't describe. We just know it isn't, right? Beyond any scientific explanation on the matter comes the term "spiritual" which I use very carefully here. Go back billions of years. Before amino acids evolved into more complex yet infantile organisms. Before a giant asteroid slammed into our then desolate rock and planted the seeds for not only life as we know it to evolve, but gave us our moon - a God to some, a lifeforce to others, a necessity for current earth homeostasis. Forget about no surf... no LIFE - life as we know it at least. All would be breathtakingly different without our moon existing.

But let's go back well before all this. Before chance and chaos chose us and our tiny microscopic nook in the universe. Before space rocks, metal and the gravitational force of a newly formed sun converged and brought our 9... scratch that... 8 planets together. Before moments of the infinite to micromoments of the seemingly impossible or improbable. We must realize that all of that is meaningless without risk. (Or maybe meaningless period depending on your point of view.)

Now the problem with risk is that it's.... well... for lack of a better term 'risky'. There is an unknown factor to it. You don't know what is going to happen. But what you do know is that you don't know. And from that ignorance comes the consolation that the possibilities of a monumental reward are endless.... because at the end of the day, what do you really have to lose?

And so reality began with a micromoment... of..... RISK!

Sometimes my mind meandars through the caverns of the eeriliy bioluminescent, comfortably misty belly of silence and thought. Of stalagtite glazed abysses of infinity trudging through the depths of imagination and logic. What can I say, my mind wanders? I think in the facets of this singular idea of our universe being but one in series or network of universes. A multiverse. Isn't it perfectly reasonable to conclude that different rules apply in those realms? Different constants? Different science? Different thought? Different life? Different possibilities? Well, the posibilities are endless I suppose. But one thing... just ONE THING I think unites everything together. Any guesses? ;)

So while I certainly don't pretend to fully understand the mechanics of astronomy, cosmology or cosmogony in our universe let alone an infinite amount of others, I hasten to say that risk makes it real.

It is the true universal language. A metauniversal language.

It's how life on any planet in any universe will survive... and thrive.

In fact it's just one thing. Or one thought. One action. One mission. One love. Risk is Love isn't it?

And as we come down to earth and go about our daily lives and look around at the haves and have nots. Who is successful... who isn't. Who is loved. Who isn't. Doesn't it really all come down to risk?

If there is a God... isn't that what it is trying to tell us...

"Hey... you down there.... risk or die.... risk or die..."

Maybe the ancients of old were right when they wrote "In the beginning God created the heavens and earth..."

God = Risk and Risk = Love

I hear the message. I think we all do.... maybe. Hopefully.

Eh... It's ok. I love you anyway. :)

The Best Time For Time

2010-02-23T22:47:00.001-08:00

Here's a thought experiment.

Say you have a watch. A real nice antique french tourbillon one. Let's say some random homeless drifter gave you that watch for enough money to get himself a blowjob, bottle of whiskey and some crack. You give the money to him and then you look at the damn thing, only to notice that it's really one of those cheese-ass swatch watches from the 80s. But you still really like that watch. You really do, so you keep it and eventually end up selling it to a buddy for whatever an 80s swatch watch goes for these days. You give it to him and he is astounded that you would let him have a real nice french tourbillon watch for the price of a swatch. But it wasn't a tourbillon a minute ago. What the fuck just happened?

Perception is everything... or is it? Tact is everything... or is it? Games are played, but why play the game when you don't have to. But you do don't you? You have to because everyone does... right?

Someone's Tourbillon watch maybe someone else's swatch, but many times that connection isn't made. Meaning.. reality and forms in THAT REALITY may be "constant", if you will, but many don't understand what they're into until it's too late. And then they complain that they really believed they had something else, but were duped into giving it away.

It seems a truth that is "truthier" than others is that time is everything. Circumstances are everything. Human beings are everything. Not being alone is everything.

The best time for time is now obviously. The best time for you? When I get around to it.

We live in an extremely selfish society that pussyfoots all over personal responisibilty. But that's what advances our species. That's what gives us hope.

That's what gives us love... I think.

Now I just need to find time for that.

Jamie Oliver's mission to fight Childhood Obesity

2010-02-16T13:16:00.000-08:00

Celebrity Chef Jamie Oliver recently was awarded a TED prize and spoke about teaching kids about food and the obesity epidemic.

A must watch for all.

I make music videos

2010-02-16T11:22:00.000-08:00

Saturday night I spent in Chinatown filming (or really taping) my friends Her Voice Remains.

I had so much fun doing it last year, had fun doing it this year... especially hanging out with my friends. Some I've seen recently, others I haven't seen in a while.

And although there were plenty of spooky kids there in general, and the band in the next room was some militant vegan industrial band that have this one song called "Organism" that is stuck in my head, because they were practicing it during sound check... and honestly I did not know they were militant vegan until after the show and THEN I had the moment of realization.... OoooOOoOOOoOooo.

ANYWAY all of this got me thinking about past videos that I've done. So figure I will post them here.

We Live in the City of Dreams

2010-02-16T10:31:00.000-08:00

We drive on this highway of fire....

Valentine's day and the meaning of life

2010-02-14T19:27:00.000-08:00

Someone wished me Happy Valentine's Day today. A female. Pretty cute female too. A stranger. Possibly married, possibly single, possibly a serial killer... who knows? It was the check-out girl at K-mart. See I was buying some Little Debbie Cupcakes, and as I was leaving she turns to me, as if on autopilot, and says "Happy Valentine's Day." Wow. I was taken aback a little. That was totally unexpected. Yes it's Valentine's Day, but no one wishes ME a Valentine's Day, not even my parents ... And believe me when I contend that I don't say any of this out of self-loathing. I say this as fact. It's scientific. It's cause and effect. I don't have a girlfriend. Significant other. Wife. Partner... etc. And I haven't had one "officially" in over a decade. It's pathetic I know, but it seems that I just don't put myself out there. It's my fault. I'm too shy and stubborn to take any risks that could reap a bounty of rewards beyond my imagination. And so there you have it. Risk.

Risk is the meaning of life I believe. After all, it's what drives all life on earth. It's what causes the best of the best of every species to survive and ascend to the next level of evolution. Just think of the salmon swimming upstream during spawning season, with many of them dying on the way. They're risking their lives to further their species. Anything, any successful anyone RISKED. Any relationship from plutonic to romantic is about risk. The best of the best risk.... seemingly everything, and many times they fall flat on their faces and have to pick themselves back up. But when it DOES pay off... it PAYS. Boy does it pay. And the thing is.... why the hell not? This is the only life any of us will ever have, if we don't risk and put the only real tangible asset we have in our entire life on the table, then honestly... why the fuck live at all?

Happy Valentine's day. Hmm... It's easy to be all sappily poetic and obsess over the haves and have nots. Over what could've been, would've been, should've been, etc. All real rewards in life are earned. And the way you earn is you pay for it with yourself, your dignity, pride, money, property, life, (insert category here).

Nothing is free. Nothing.

Before there was civilized society as we know it. Before there was modern trading structures, currencies, barter systems.... Before there was any sort of beginnings of a modern economic system.... there was risk.

Risk is the only real currency we have, but many don't want to spend it. They'd rather hide it in their mattress......

....or something.

Thoughts on the State of the Union

2010-01-28T10:02:00.000-08:00

Obama's state of the union. Prognosis: Very well said and needed.

NOW, not surpisingly we're getting all this partisan 4th grade homeroom bullshit from....?... oh you guessed it...24/7 new cycle and partisan blogosphere. And hey I certainly do NOT agree with everything this president stands for, but he called it we're a cyncial nation. Of course each side will argue that their cynicism is justified because of (pick your issue here)... BULLSHIT!

It's just sad that Washington is so systemically corrupted all anyone really cares about are egos, reelection and measuring dicks. You know I heard about this novel concept about actually working to help the people who elected you. Wow... imaginations can be FUN!

So while actually compromising and being pragmatic in certain respects can be praised in public it's seemingly, almost unanimously renounced in legislative action.

Let's get our crap together this year and actually do something.

Moments...

2010-01-25T18:10:00.000-08:00

Radiolab is amazing

2010-01-25T10:21:00.000-08:00

I just recently discovered the NPR program Radiolab, and it's .... ahMAZING!

Along with Point of Inquiry I get a healthy balance of science and secular humanism.

So I highly recommend to nourish your brains with some stimulating conversation....

Enjoy!

Sarah Palin needs to go away

2010-01-12T11:23:00.000-08:00

PLEASE

Pic of the Day

2010-01-12T11:17:00.000-08:00

And here we go again... for the last time.... maybe...

2010-01-12T10:55:00.000-08:00

Comparisons are hard. Well, let me go back. Comparisons are NOT hard to do, but hard to... well... admit that your doing and hard to.... admit that they bother you.

I admit that at times I find myself comparing myself to others. Where I am in my life. My career. Look at others that are my age and have certainly accomplished a lot more than I have. And when you compare, you dwell. And when you dwell, you freeze up. And when you freeze up, nothing gets accomplished. And then you get depressed that you haven't accomplished anything and go on right back to comparing yourself with others that have done more than you up to this point. DIZZINESS! It's getting past these internal barriers that are key.

Excuses can be made, but excuses are easy. Solutions are hard.

A new decade of opportunity is upon me.

It seems that this blog mostly has, for the past year at least, acted as this cathartic avenue for me to put down... somewhere... what I'm feeling at the time....venting... which I guess is what blogs are for in some respects. And it has been good for me, but it's time to change it up. Shift focus from the contant drolling introspection and on to more interesting things that most people give a shit about.

So even though there are probably 2 people that read this blog, I'm going to attempt to switch it up this year. For the better hopefully.

Some final thoughts on the past decade

2009-12-31T16:59:00.000-08:00

I remember I started this decade trying to navigate house party to house party because it WAS 1999. And people were partying as such. I actually specifically remember totally avoiding doing a keg stand, watching a Peter Jennings ABC 2000 special (Dick Clark was off that year I think), and crossing my fingers that I wouldn't skid out into a snow bank as I was trying to get to my final destination before midnight. I believe it was 3 parties I actually spent some time in, spanning from Detroit to Fraser to all the way out to Holly, which for those who aren't familiar with southeastern Michigan is kind of crazy to do on a millennial New Years Eve with a bunch of drunks always cruising the highways in their 30 year old rust buckets.

Now it's 10 years later. And as they say some things change, but some things stay the same.

For me this decade has been one of growth, maturity, self-realization and renewal... About old friends and new. About reconnections and lost connections. Old family members have passed away and new family members have been born. Life beats down on you, but you learn how to defend and adapt to it.

One of the many things I've learned in the last 10 years is that for the constants that are in my life, I must never take them for granted.

2010 maybe you'll be different, maybe you'll be the same. Who the hell knows. All we can do is put one foot in front of the other and walk out into the great unknown. "The journey of 1000 miles begins with but a second step." Bye bye first decade of the 21st Century. Rest In Peace, you're survived by 7 billion of your children. And for all our bickering and fighting between each other... for all the wars (ideological and physical) I hope... at least some of us will learn from it. Next decade let us evolve. Next decade let us survive. Next decade let us be.

2009: What have I learned?

2009-12-21T08:50:00.000-08:00

It's easy to look back on a year and think about all the things you should have done. All the things you didn't do. All the things that you wish had happened and wax intellectual about how NEXT YEAR will be THAT YEAR where my life changes for the better. That there is so many things that I need to do to keep my sanity at a level where I don't sink into mental chaos. A year where I continued to buy into the idea of mental escape... or accepting that my potential as an artist has still to be tapped fully. I KNEW I had the perceptive and intuitive edge to follow through to something bigger. Because I just knew and was so confident that my ideas are interesting, fresh, original, and needed in the current landscape of mediocrity. I was going for something more ambitious. Something more artistic. Something that will change preconceptions of who I am as an artist (or lack of one.) Something that is truly TRULY me.

So what happened this year? Well a fuckload. But it is so easy to get bogged down into excuses after excuses nary a solution in sight. I was in the bookstore the other day shopping for Christmas gifts and I'm browsing through the aisles to only come upon Dostoyevsky's Crime and Punishment. I've never read it, but it's always been on the ubiquitous list of books to read. And come to think of it there are a lot on that list. And it seems every god damn year I make a promise to myself to check a few more off the list and maybe one or two get checked...MAYBE. I mean, it's not fucking hard. It's simple time managment, right. Well I have to WANT IT, and obviously I don't want it bad enough.

I fight with myself on a daily basis on why I choose to go down a certain path as I stare into the mirror each day and see that I'm a little bit older. Time goes by fast, and the list of things that I have that I still want to do with my time fades quickly with each passing day. My idealistic younger self is no longer. No it's a slightly more older and a bit more realistic self. Am I still idealistic? Do I still have dreams? Wants and desires? Abso-fucking-lutely. But why haven't they manifested? What gives? Well the only real, honest answer to all of this is my own lack of self-discipline.

This year has been a tough one for me as many of you know. Challenge after challenge and I'm still scraping by and dodging bullets only to realize that I'm 32 years old and barely getting by with a mountain of debt. Sounds god damn depressing I know. And the reason it sounds so depressing is because I like dwelling on shit maybe a little longer than I should. This year the world has beat down on me more than probably any other year in my life, and what got me through were family and friends who loved me and believed in me. I truly and indebted to all of them.

I remember early in the year I had all these lofty goals about wanting to travel more and going to finish my next script, and wanting to finish a litany of things that I've started but ... had yet to complete. And creatively I finished a fraction of what I set out to do. Depression is a big part of it. Freezing up, escaping in the pixels of mouseclicking of computers... or in the brain melting esctasy of Cable Television. I watch too much TV, I know that. I dick around on the computer doing dumb-ass shit too much.... and I know that too.

What separates people that truly succeed in this world and those who don't are NOT ONLY the wants and desires of success, but of doing some sort of action EACH DAY to achieve that goal. Even if it's a little chip at a time, it's something. The pain of the realization in what excuses of lethargy and procrastination bring me, I realize, FAR OUTWEIGH, the pain of trying to do those things in the first place. You are truly going into battle when you start on an artistic endeavour. And it's not about proving that you aren't afraid of any challenges along the way, no no... it's about OVERCOMING those challenges and STILL succeeding.

All these things I try to constantly tell myself, when I feel I'm not living up to my potential.

But I must admit, not all was bad this year. Many good, great and life affirming things also happened. I am officially an Uncle now, which I'm really excited about. I'm employed, have recconnected with old friends and new. Thankful specifically for my one of my closest friends, and roommate, who has helped me this year more than he knows (or maybe he does.)

And finally to my family. My parents who have helped and sacrificed a lot this year to help me stay afloat. Love doesn't begin to describe how I feel toward them.

So see... there you have it. A definite silver lining in a year that, for most of it, I probably couldn't even afford silver itself.

So will 2010 be THE YEAR. That is my personal goal, and I suppose the only real way I'll know I've succeeded or not is NOT in if I'm a super successful eccentric multi-millionaire able to be that bon vivant man-about-town--traveling abroad on a whim--experiencing life and culture---creating art in a challenging yet romantized setting---having great casual sex---or maybe truly finding that muse---and getting paid for all of this--- to be that uber-cultured renaissance man. All of that would be amazing for sure, but what I feel is a measure of success is being focus and consistant on my own well being as an artist. That means not just sitting around waiting for some phantom and timeless moment of unaccountability to creep up on me and proclaim that everything is OK and I'm as good as I know I am. I have to prove that. I have to earn it.

2010 is the year of earning.

ashes to ashes Bowie
Uploaded by avajra. - See the latest featured music videos.

This sums it up...

2009-11-20T18:06:00.000-08:00

Feigning the fleeting fights of feifdom

2009-11-17T09:49:00.000-08:00

Bohemian.

Renaissance Man.

Fly by night fancies of debauchery and excreting platitudes of the greatness of living life to the fullest. Carpe Diem...blah blah...

Those ideals I have, certainly, but there is another brutality that I find myself easily sucked into. Structured routine. Why?

I supposed it's the security of a constant saftey net of finances and planning for the future. But what future really? If you are as rationalistic as I am, future is your community. The future is your works. The future is now (as cheesy as that sounds.)

I'm trying to be more optomistic as of late, but one of the reasons for this optomism is no doubtedly my current employment... as semi-secure as it is.

The strength in an individual going into the arts is to rise above that. To rise above the idea that happiness is derived soley from security. Well... I suppose that's true for all walks of life...and thus certainly true for the artist.

Should I prepare for the future?

Should I look to the past?

Should I be climbing up any career ladder just to prove to myself that I can do it?

While certainly it would be the socially accepted and responsible thing to say yes to all of these, I fear that the challenge is when one does that... it's easy to loose focus on what's really important to you. Because, honestly, I could give a shit about living the corporate life. Scratch that.... I would probably go mentally insane if I stayed in the corporate environment for a while. Take it with a grain of salt, they say. Just play the game and cash the checks. Eh... I can do that, and have been most certainly. But then it gets to the point where I wake up and it's 5, 6, 7, 10 years later and I've... for some reason... maybe for seniority reasons... maybe because I wanted more money... maybe I wanted the opportunity for more vacation time, who the fuck knows. But I become some Project Coordinator, say... or Department Director or whatever. And everybody congratulates me... and I feign all the happiness and acceptance of acheiving the 'Homestyle Buffet" of the American Dreams. And I had to eat dick for 10 years to do it. Wow... don't I just feel better about myself. ;)

See for me the thing is, living right now. In the moment. Absorbing life and life experience. Hungering for more. Being open for more. That's what it should be about. And sure many can balance kissing the corporate ass for decades and then taking a week off to go to Burning Man to consume a lot of drugs... dance naked in the desert to half-cocked psytrance while having sex with a bunch of strangers who, while some share your sentiment, others... don't... and live this "life" everyday... and they're 45. They want to corrupt you more. And maybe they'll succeed if you're that depressed and unsatisfied in your current state of affairs, who the hell knows really? Do you chance it? Is it worth it? Really is anyone right or wrong in this scenario? I guess if you have actual responsibilities, like kids, than it's a different story... (although the world is grossly overpopulated anyway.)

Someday I would actually like to have enough money saved up where I can actually invest it in something, that I won't lie about. But all of that is for selfish reasons. I want to have enough passive cashflow where I can just travel and write, and lord knows that I haven't been putting in the effort into acheiving that dream as of late. I need to, and I know that for sure.

So, I keep writing. I write daily. And it keeps me happy, even if I'm my cynical asshole self.... I SWEAR I'm much happier.

Honest... ;)

Unashamedly nerding out

2009-11-16T11:00:00.000-08:00

Last night I went over to Carriertone's to watch the latest Doctor Who special... THE WATERS OF MARS... and one word describes it for me.

Amazing.

I think it was partly watching a long awaiting follow up to the Easter special "Planet of the Dead" which was good, better than the previous Christmas special "The Next Doctor", but not as dark and morally vexing as this new one "The Waters of Mars."

I loved it, but I think what I loved equally on top of that was the group of people that all converged to squeeze in a small living room and watch it. Alcohol. Junk Food. Tranfixed by David Tennant's 3rd to last portrayl of the legendary Doctor. Loved it.

Being in that group of liked minded dorks was comforting, fun, and in a weird way liberating.

Working in the "industry", but in a much more corporate setting at the moment, times like these I cherish. Where I can let loose, keep it real, keep it nerdy... having hours long conversations about not only past episodes but about all things in the panoply of nerdom. And I do realize that to many this may seem banal and childish, but to us few who not only love it but realize the true sociologial and artistic merit of Doctor Who as well as science fiction in general, it's a relief... and it always makes me smile and be thankful that there are other people on this planet that have the same tastes as me and yet still occuply monotonous soul-crushing cubicle jobs. We all want to escape our day to day existence for cash... so for the moment this is our visual escape which is what visual media arguably was at its outset.

So it is the escape. It's the majesty of the project. It's being at awe of the scope of imagination of the writers and artists who create these works.

But last night... in a real sense, it was about community.

Tell me that isn't something.

Ponderings of Propriety and the Confidence of confidence...

2009-11-09T11:15:00.000-08:00

I've recenctly dragged my ass out of the dreggs of, in many ways, self-induced depression and have jumped feet first into ongoing and new ventures.

I say this because for many years and many moments in my life, I've had my passion... what I LOVE to do.. etc, as well as the stuff I do for cash. The voluntary enslavement of myself to the corporatized welfare state of a society we all live in.

For the struggling Artist sometimes the most painful question you get is: "So what do you do?" But it's only a struggle if you think it is... Some people define themselves as what they do for cash, others define themselves by their art. Myself... I've done both. Afterall we're all moonlighting right? But should I?

It's hard... scratch that... it's damn near impossible to balance multiple things at the same time while still retaining some sense of sanity, yet people do it. A lot of people do it. And any excuse for a delay is just that... an excuse for a delay.

In The War of Art, author Steven Pressfield stated in one chapter that Leo Tolstoy had 11 kids and STILL wrote War and Peace, something that has always stuck with me. Because for one instance among many, War and Peace changed the world. Leo Tolstoy effected it through his imagination. Through his art. How fascinating is that?

The reality is art changes the world, not policy, or politicians or banal analyses of current events or prescient issues of freedom and the sort. And all those things are important, BUT Art influences them all. So it's how much you really want to change the world that reflects on your attitude for your art in general. Sound cheesy and new age-y? It isn't. If there is anything we have learned as a species in the evolution of our thought is the unending possibilities that imagination and hard work bring... and how it's imagination and creativity that push us further and into greater wellsprings of advancements through a variety of means. It's these sort of thoughts, variabley on the brink of transhumanism which is another topic altogether, that keep me up at night sometimes. Because it IS exciting. The possibilities are EVERYWHERE, yet we choose to absorb the bullshit around us because it's easy and ubiquitous.

Back in the middle ages when the King would have his Court Jester come out to perform for him and his court, the jester would often present to the King, in comedic form important social issues of the day. ie.. the jester would have a comedic play where an overbearing master is unfair and often punishes the working class. The King would applaud the performance, then contemplate for a moment and think... am I like that master in the play? Do I punish the working class of my kingdom? And SOMETIMES policies and royal decrees change.

Art not only can change things... it DOES change things.

Is that an arrogant thing to say? Maybe, but in being an artist humility gets you nowhere. You have to be brazen and believe in what you're doing otherwise the most likely scenario is a crowd of people confident as you are, willing to walk all over you to get where they need to be.

I love what I do, ie my passion. What I do for cash is just what I do for cash. Take what you can from it. Activily acquire more knowledge and tools for your overall growth as an artist and a human as well, and realize that we are but specks on a speck on a speck ad infintinum.

The universe is big. We are insignificant to it, yet we are significant to each other. And that's what's important, right? So...let's make the most of it, change the world and you will change too.

I know I have already, but I'm eager to change more.... for the better.

I am back from my slumber!!!!!!

2009-11-02T07:29:00.000-08:00

See you soon!

When life gives you lemons....

2009-07-03T15:38:00.000-07:00

WHAT. A. YEAR.

They say when it rains it pours. Understatement of the decade! With the goal of attempting the positivity route (and succeeding for the past couple months) it seems like a shit storm has poured on me. I would be lying if I said that I wasn't starting to feel overwhelmed. I am. Everything is weighing on me in a way that scares me. But I'm an adult and need to make adult decisions about adult things in an adult way while maintaining that mask of adultness all the while pretending to actually being an adult. But as they say... fake it til you make it.

I had decided to just smile a lot. Just keep grinning, and it helped. But... it's harder. And with me getting some tough love from a couple different places I feel my life is spinning out of control, but I know I need to catch myself before I sink into the bottomless pity of obscurity and suicidal depression.

To say that I'm depressed would be a gross understatement. I would love to be just depressed right now. I would love to be in a place in my life when I'm not questioning every little thing that comes my way. No one gives you a rule book for life, everybody just kind of wings it and something needs to change for me soon or I'm going to die.

I want to say that I don't care what other people think about me, but that would be a huge lie. Of course i do. I care what my friends think. I care what my family thinks. I would rather that not be the case, but maybe it's a spill over from a deep-seated feeling of always feeling ostracized my entire life, even though I know that's not true. Sometimes, something innate in my being tells me that I need assurance. I need acceptance. I need someone to say or acknowledge that I am important to them and that they are proud of me. But what have I done to deserve such accolades lately? I feel like I'm speeding toward a cliff and If I don't change course soon I'm going to drop off.

I've never been the best around people. I've definitely gotten a LOT better over the years. Better to the point where I'm sure there are people out there that would never know that deep down I'm a shy, depressed, loner that reluctantly accepts his anonymity while dreaming that his life was different.

I realize that for the 2 people that actually read this blog this sounds like I'm just feeling sorry for myself. Bitch bitch bitch. And yes I am. I just need to get all of that out of my system. And I assure you there is more. A LOT more. But one of my great strengths, I believe, is my self-intuition. Me being self-aware about who I am and what my strengths and weaknesses are.

So where do I go from here? I can't give up. I must press on. But to where?

That is the question.

Another thing I'm certain of is this: Friends. I need them. The journey I must travel alone, but my friends... I need them for encouragement. I need them for strength. I need them to need me.

I need them to need me.

Have I proven myself yet?

A little cell phone goes a long way

2009-06-18T10:00:00.000-07:00

I have a love/hate relationship with my cell phone. Somedays I love that I have it, and other days I want to throw it in the ocean and go off the grid. Many people would say "Oh you can always turn it off." But my answer to that always is "Yeah, but you still know that I have one." I mean, unless I'm dead or have a dire emergency, most people have this expectation that when they call your phone you need to answer. (Even in dire circumstances it's certainly relative.)

So you don't answer the phone. Or listen to your voice mail. What about texting? Or email on phone? The future is now, and you can have it all at your fingertips. A touch screen, aps, and hours of time waisting monotony, buying and playing all kinds of useless bullshit, for what purpose? Because it's fun. It's helpful. It does the thinking for you. Because it's there.

I live in one of the biggest cities in the world, a city that has been thriving for the better part of a century... and while certainly human civilization knew how to get around and survive without the aid of technology for 1000s of years, many residents of modern day Los Angeles still SOMEHOW get by without a GPS or mapquest, for example. CRAZINESS I know!

See, they used these things called maps. Where you actually have to look at a grid of streets and figure out where you are in relation to your surroundings. See shit like that requires you to use your brain. Definitely a novelty in this day and age it seems.

I remember I was talking to a friend of mine who I love dearly, and was trying give her directions to my place. She's was like "I'll just punch it in my GPS." I reply, "I'm TELLING YOU EXACTLY HOW TO GET HERE. "I will just feel better if I put your address in my GPS." Do people really put that much unwaivering faith in technology? Answer: YES. At least some of us.

I remember before I had a cell phone I would write down friends phone numbers on slivers of paper and put them in my wallet. Over time, of course, my wallet began to bulge out of control. And so you know what I did? I either had some of the numbers memorized, or put them in my desk drawer, or just simply tossed them out. Now, though, we save all of them in our phones so that if any of us lost our cell phone... we would be massively fucked. How many times have you gotten that email, myspace or facebook message from one of your friends who had their phone lost, stolen, or broken and is like "I lost all my numbers in my phone, please email me your number so I can put it in my new phone." Thank God for email, huh?

We are still in the midst of a massive technology boom that's been happening for about 30 years now, and it's growing faster and faster. But sooner or later it will hit it's own "Hubert's Peak" if you will. Of course I would hope that the world won't sink into mass chaos, but will realize that all these gadgets and gizmos don't define who we are as people. Because as people we are more complex than that. We need to be more complex than that. It seperates us from everything else more definely, and gives us a reason to live outside the box in a world with endless possibilities, undiscovered countries, cures for diseases, unrequited love, and all the general (possible) public excitement that comes from that. (A sidenote: I'm still waiting for them to build underwater ocean colonies. That I would be excited about!)

We need to step back and realize what it's like to be human. We need to level out and moderate the amount of pixels, mouse clicking, ap playing, phone talking, or just the simple expectancy of the ever present person at the other end of the line all ready to pick up when YOU call.

I had a friend of mine tell me that once he had observed an individual who simultaneously was on the phone w/bluetooth, AND on the the computer w/ Itunes playing softly, WHILE watching tv.

"Sometimes you just need to uplug yourself from the matrix.", he quipped.

No truer words have ever been said.

A little perspective

2009-06-17T15:47:00.000-07:00

I think this video speaks for itself.

Easy to find Porn: Make Everyone happy.

2009-06-14T13:44:00.000-07:00

What's the biggest problem with internet porn? Too much of it? Too little of it? Too many weird fetishes pop up that you thought were only possible maybe in zero gravity with a pair of toast tongs and an issue of US weekly from 1982 up your ass?

I don't know, weirder things have happened sure. But isn't the biggest problem for everyone (both for and against porn) the fact that it seems to be glazed everywhere and not centrally located in one place? That's why I propose that all porn sites. Every single one of them be placed and cordoned off only to websites that have the extension ".cum". So if your site is lickmyhairysack.com it would be changed to lickmyhairysack.cum. Simple. Easy to navigate. And easy to filter out.

See, the moral traditionalists should embrace this. It would make it easier for them to filter out all the naughty stuff from their browser so that if they have a 6 year old kid left by himself at home with a computer access to internet there would be nothing to worry about on the porn front, right?

For the people that just love porn... or just need to.... study a new and interesting tribal fetish for a dissertation your writing on the history of hipster sexual practices. (A dissertation that could be 5 pages or 500.) the infinite encyclopedic ubiquity of the net never ceases to amaze.

Like Alice going down the rabbit hole, so do we, when we log on and surf the waves of a generous digital curiosity, implementing excellent internet searching skills, if needed, and sometimes stumbling ass backwards into gay siberian huskie beastiality. (who knew hipsters liked that, huh?) So maybe it's a form of malfeasance, as we come across a decadent sea of iniquity. (Redundant?) A sea of skin (or fur). And you willingly drown in its waters. God Bless America.

Of course I make no illusion of the fact that all of this is pointless because the reality is you're never going to catch everything. Vendors of porn will only get more creative in getting their product out there. Conceal it better. Mirror their content from another site. And furthermore there will most likely be that one country, small ass island in the South Pacific or something, that will not give a SHIT what you put up using their servers and extensions. After all, it's simple economics. Supply and Demand. And with porn there is OBVIOUSLY a demand for it.

So digital porn could be outsourced, but the immediate reality is that the ".cum" extension is a possibility and is doable... I think. (Why wouldn't it be?) OH because people have rights? Well that just means we need to turn into a fascist government right? After all, although I abhor fascist governments.... they sure get things done don't they?

;)

GM: A long time coming, but a sad day nonetheless

2009-06-01T13:50:00.000-07:00

I grew up in Michigan. And anybody that grew up in Michigan ESPECIALLY Metro-Detroit can tell you that the American Auto Industry is not only ubiquitous, but a vital part of the engine of the Michigan economy and workforce.

No one in my immediate family worked for the Big 3, but I had/ have plenty of close friends and parents of friends, acquaintances... etc... everybody in every socio-economic class of Metro-Detroit knew someone that worked for the auto industry. Whether it be on working on the assembly line. Parts supplier. Engineer. Accountant. Executive. Lawyer. Everyone knew someone that worked for the Big Three. It was the life blood of my home state. And it was its life blood.... to a fault.

Did the Big 3 fuck up? Yes. Did they make cars that knew were cheaply made, just so that in a few years people would come back and buy from them again? Yes. Did they outsourced 1000s jobs and ruin 1000s upon 1000s of lives in the process? Yes. But it was still the bedrock identity of a place I call home.

The auto industry has done a lot of great things, but anything great it has done unfortunately is being drowned out by all it's faults. It's risky decisions. Not updating it's business model quick enough. Getting lazy with the quality of their product. You know, there is one actual plant left in the actual City of Detroit. Everything else is in the suburbs, even Chrysler and Fords headquarters aren't in the city anymore. But GM's is. Sitting atop the Ivory Tower which is the Renaissance Center in downtown Detroit, overlooking a dying city. A decaying giant. Once a mecca for manufacturing jobs, now a symbol of the effect of Urban sprawl, outsourcing of jobs and culture. A place of jagged segregation that has permeated this city for decades. And in many ways, GM is responsible for some of this. The Auto Industry is reponsible for some of this. The city of Detroit and the state of Michigan are responsible for this too. In reality no one's hands are clean, but GM still stares down, a chilling symbol of what once was and what has been done to this city and state for the past 100 years.

The Michigan Economy and the Auto Economy were pretty much one and the same for decades. And therein lies the problem. A problem from the governmental end, a problem from the corporate end, a problem from the common consumer end, and undeniably a problem for all citizens of Michigan that WILL be effected by this in some way. And even though in the last few years, since the auto industry has sunk deeper and deeper into the crapper, Michigan Governor Jennifer Granholm has supposedly made a concerted effort in getting new industry in the state. (For example Google opened offices in Ann Arbor, employing 1000. Michigan also offers amazing tax credits to film productions and in fact is in the process of building not 1, not 2, but 3 studios in the Metro-Detroit area.) But is it enough?

So many people for nearly a century have relied on the auto economy, and took pride that Michigan and specifically Detroit was the Motor City and manufacturing and union capital of America. The pride is still there, but the sting of betrayal is evident. Betrayal from a variety of fronts, but the bulk of the blame lies on the companies themselves. That is the brutal reality.

The thing is that I've heard this opinion that the idea American cars are less reliable and break down often is a slanderous unsubstantiated rumor. Rumor by whom? The foreign automakers? Liberal groups upset about them not adhering as easily to fuel efficiency standards? Who is spreading these rumors? And FURTHERMORE... EVEN IF these rumors were absolutely 100% true and all American cars are IN FACT the best cars in the world. Most reliable, etc. Then WHY DON'T PEOPLE BUY THEM!?! Why do many people (including myself and others I know) believe that foreign cars are much more reliable machines, breakdown less... lower repair costs... than its American counterparts? Obviously whatever GM and Chrysler are doing to try to convince people to buy their cars ISN'T working. Simple as that.

At the end of the day, perception is reality. And reality drives the market. From a purely bean counter perspective all that matters is the bottom line. Money and Market share. All of which GM, today, has none. It's tough, and I'm not going to pretend that some peoples lives are going to be put through the ringer because of this. My heart goes out to all of them. Today really got me thinking about home. My roots. Things that matter. What defined me as a kid.

The Midwest defined me. Michigan defined me. Religion defined me.

The ubiquity of the Big 3 defined me in a way. And I know it did for others.

When GM closed most of it's plants in Flint, moving them to Mexico (Remember Roger and Me?)I remembered these bumper stickers that said "Last One In Flint Please Turn Out The Lights." Now the danger is that there will be a new bumper sticker that will say "Last One In Michigan Please Turn Out The Lights."

My thoughts are with you all, and here's to hoping for a speedy restructuring that makes sense not only to the company, to the state of Michigan, or to US Government, but to the hardworking American people for generations to come.

Here's to the American Spirit.

Some thoughts on the Prop 8 decision

2009-05-26T20:48:00.000-07:00

Look it sucks. It really does. Anytime fundamental rights are kept from anybody it's wrong. Anytime a group of people are legally reduced to second class citizenry, it's disgusting. And for all of those people that are good, law abiding citizens that can't legally get married because of some bigoted draconian law, based on 2000 year old ancient mesopatamian sky god worship, is just ridiculously lame, sad, and offensive.

But the brutal reality is that the entire passage of Prop 8 was a legal act. We can disagree about the context of it, but at the core... our democratic process is not only NOT illegal, but necessary. It's necessary that we have a majority of people rise up, take action and change things.

The reality is: The people spoke. Majority rules. The outcome is horrendous, but it is legal. The silverlining to all of this is that it's just a matter of time until marriage for everyone is legal. The tide is shifting. The winds are changing. People in California can feel it, even IF they voted for Prop 8. They know that in 8 years the public opinion of gay marriage in California went from 64%-36% to 52%-48%. IN 8 YEARS! What are the numbers going to be like in another 8 years? In another 6 years? 2 years?

Being a citizen in a democracy, a representative democracy of course, it feels more satisfying when the public as a whole progresses and comes around to new ideas, new ways of thinking that may have been taboo a few years before.

Let's all hope that the sting of this decision will resonate with the people to take action and change policy for the better.

After all, this IS the land of the free isn't it?

Whoa... dude... I think I drank the potion

2009-05-11T10:12:00.000-07:00

Keanu Reeves cast in Mr. Jekyll? Wow.

Religious Idiocy

2009-05-08T10:16:00.000-07:00

Student is being barred by his school from attending a public school prom. WHY? Because there will be evil rock music, dancing (OH MY GOD.... DANCING!!!!!!!) Maybe hand holding. KISSING. Please GOD NO... KISSING!?!?!?!? And for the more rebellious lot, maybe a little drinkie drinkie afterwards. And some will even do a little boinky boinky. It's natural. It's human. It's bullshit.

I remember when my father got his job at Michigan Christian College in the Fall of 1986, he had to sign this contract that basically said, amongst other things, that he couldn't drink alcohol while being an employee of the school. Dumb fucking rule. And I let him know it. But my dad believes that following the rules no matter if you personally disagree with them or not, is the right thing to do, and I GUESS I see his point, but STILL it was this old-ass Calvinist-esque rule that he KNEW was stupid and arbitrary, but was going to follow it because he signed a contract saying as such.

Now, I didn't go to prom, or to a single high school dance for that matter. In fact I hated high school. For a quiet and shy outsider like myself, it was 4 years of sheer agony. Haven't seen probably 99% of my class since graduation day... FINE BY ME. So part of me doesn't give a SHIT about any of this. That whole "Pretty-In-Pink", "My So-Called Life" idealism of High School doesn't exist. It never did. But the funny thing is that all this stuff going on in Ohio and other places is being brought up more in the news. For me, being an old salt in the ways of fundamentalist religiosity, this is NOTHING NEW. But it only solidifies my hatred of legalistic organized religion.

This makes me happy!

2009-05-07T12:10:00.000-07:00

New research shows that younger people are shedding off the dead and useless skin of religiosity more and more.

I love how Hemant Mehta at Friendly Atheist puts it.

But just reading the article in it's entirety makes me smile. The only thing is that we must all realize that as a country and a culture we still have a long way to go. People are going to always have those big questions. Those unfalsifiable puzzles that have kept man guessing for many a millenia.

Well some of us guessing... others, claiming they know EXACTLY how it happened, BECAUSE a book that's 2000 years old, and assembled by committee whose ultimate purpose was to control the masses, has a God in it that says that's he's real because the book say's he's real. Wrap your head around that logic. I'm real because this old-ass, completely non-socially, politically, or culturally relevant fractured collection of myths from ancient Mesopotamia says I'm real. Forget about the SCIENCE and TECHNOLOGY that has advanced us since this was written. Forget all the added KNOWLEDGE that we've gained since. Bullshit. Obviously... because we must realize that 2000 year old sky god worship is totally relevant in a post-industrial and enlightenment age of our species. MAKES FUCKING SENSE TO ME!

And you have no reason, or tangible evidence to prove otherwise.... but wait.... that's actually BETTER! The LESS EVIDENCE the more TRUE it should be. Right? The more righteous you are. I mean... isn't that Faith? Believing without seeing? Having no tangible evidence other than a hunch?

It's only a matter of time. This younger generation will rise and become leaders of the world... and we'll see of all this old faith slowly wash away from importance like tears in rain. (Gotta get that Blade Runner reference in here.)

Cheers!

The Pirate Bay and the future of file-sharing

2009-04-17T10:59:00.001-07:00

Well another meaningless and money wasting court case "victory" for the big media conglomerates.

The Pirate Bay Teams was sentenced to jail for copyright ingringment in running the worlds largest filesharing and bittorrent site.

These meaningless and tired games that the media companies have been doing for the past 10 years are just getting ridiculous right now. Do they even get it? They lost! They'll never win this war. Period. End of discussion. They and Congress had they're chance in the early 90s to nip this situation in the bud, but they're heads were too far up their own collective asses to notice that the smartest people doing the most inovative things were not only NOT working for them, but basically in a very egalitarian and socialist level, reshaping the entire landscape of thought when it comes to art in the media age.

This war is over. OVER!! It was over the moment the first mp3 was sent from one user to the next. That moment when it was a private transaction over the web. It was over. And with the mix tape template already in place for the past 15-20 years before... put that on the digital canvass, and what do you have?

The media companies blew it. They fucked up. They know it. And they're doing the only thing they think they can do right now. Fight the moral argument, and I'm sure they know it. And I'm sure many IN those big media companies, and politicians know just that. But they have to bite their tounge because they have constituencies. Shareholders. People they have to answer to. And they need to hold up that moral argument. It's the same sort of argument in why we still have this meaningless and tax payer wasting war on drugs. You're never going to win. And once you really REALLY realize that, then you can move forward and figure out what the problem REALLY is now, and has been for the past 10+ years. A Marketing issue. That's the only thing they really can reshape now. How do you reshape the marketing landscape to convince the average consumer that it's actually in their best interest to buy art as opposed to download it for free. But honestly we very well may be beyond that point right now. But hey I'm not in marketing.

But legalities are moot right now, because even if Pirate Bay closes down, which it won't, but even if it does, 20 more Pirate Bay-like sites will open up tomorrow. Different types of ways of sharing files between users are emerging. And they're emerging fast!

In this eternal race of catch-up the big conglomerates might have thought they cut us off at the pass, but in reality, they just hit the nitros about 3000 miles back. You'll pick up some stuff, but all of these victories are meaningless when you'll never ever be ahead in the long run. And another thing, it's just going to get harder for them with each passing generation. When file-sharing becomes more and more ubiquitous than it is now. You don't get it. You already lost. My generation doesn't care. And future generations will not so much care less as this concept won't even cross their mind in this context. They'll understand the historical nature of the argument, but they'll just be above the seemingly frivalities of this discussion.

Now It's not like I don't care about artists getting compensated for art, but the corporations fucked up, and the digital template is only getting stronger and more complex. We have to adapt. And there are plenty of artists who have adapted and accept this reality.

The internet is vast space of opportunity, which is still in its infancy. Anti-Net Neutrality laws have tried and failed to pass. The people know what's up. The people run the internet. And it's the people who'll decide it's future and the future of what passes through it's "series of tubes".

Picture of the Day

2009-04-17T10:16:00.000-07:00

Someday it'll be like this!

Bill Hicks: American Hero

2009-04-12T15:08:00.000-07:00

Chain Smoking With Pepe'

2009-04-11T23:00:00.000-07:00

Issue 6

Somewhere near Santee, CA. On a crack ass motel balcony, sits a plastic owl on a rusty railing. Mary, in a simple hippie day dress, sits on an old wicker chair next to Pepe’, smoking and reading a book on Ancient Mesopotamian Myths.

Ingrid strolls out with a shit-eating grin, flicking a cigarette over the balcony, lighting another one up in the process.

Ingrid: Weird moment. I just had some random guy ask me if I thought the 4-pronged multi-colored Spork should be brought back into mass circulation.

Mary doesn’t look up.

Mary: Speechless.

Ingrid: Yeah.

Ingrid takes a drag off her cigarette. Exhales.

Mary: You know, as a social experiment you should tell him that “Spork” actually comes from the ancient Mayan word of Spoche’ which is the more formal and patriarchal term for female circumcision.

Ingrid: Ha. If he actually believed that the ancient Mayan culture used… WAIT are you saying the word refers to the act not the device itself? When did the meaning change?

Mary: I’m not a Linguistic major. Just go with it.

Ingrid: Riiight.

Ingrid considers it then…

Ingrid: Actually, someone really dropped the ball big time in not patenting that name if you think about it. I mean there’s your competitor for Spam, right?

Mary: It astounds me they still make that. Oh WAIT… no it doesn’t.

Ingrid: I’m just saying the free market lost one there.

Mary: Good.

Ingrid: Hey look at it this way, another company for PETA to fight against, but now they can’t. So it’s more money lost. Ingrid Newkirk can only buy 6 Italian villas, not 7, while failing to preach to starving kids in Ethiopia why going Vegan is a moral imperative. The economy goes to shitter. The world sinks into mass chaos. All because Spork never had the balls to truly compete and achieve it’s potential as a brand. Boo Hoo.

Mary: But Spork guy is probably just jack-ass employee working and championing for the mighty 4-pronged promise. And then suddenly, something shocking and controversial is uttered about who he works for. Maybe J. Augustus Sporkinsky IV, the founder of Spork Enterprises...

Ingrid: (interrupting) That’s a coincidence.

Mary: (interrupting) …had a kiddie porn dungeon or so he was told.

Ingrid: (interrupting) Very hot…

Mary: (interrupting) Maybe he was a militant totalitarian revolutionary. Idolized Che Guevara or something. Believed that if everyone used Sporks as their primary utensils it would inevitably become what is a slippery slope down to sterile group think and the collective dumbing down of society. (Can you say Two And A Half Men?) Orwellian type shit. Now it’s one utensil. Then it’s one brand of ketchup. Car. Computer. Bank. Corporation. Party. Religion. You start your revolution small. Baby Steps… and then like a virus it grows and festers. It blooms and is unstoppable unless you pluck it from the ground during the embryonic stages. And so our lowly Spork guy had reservations, because what’s swirling around in his head is so absurd and controversial. He would leave early from work all confused go home and think that his supposed benevolent acts were a waste…and then when he googled it… nothing of that would come up. No kiddie porn dungeon. However he was past the point of no return. Skepticism would fill his brain for a while. Out of guilt, (ill found or not) he would quit his job. Sign up at some temp agency… get some menial data entry/ office spreadsheet filing job…thinking that given a few months he’ll be back on his feet and on to pursue his dream of being an organic soybean gardener. Than on his way to work one day, he decides to take a short cut and is involved in a head on collision with an Oscar Meyer Weiner mobile, which isn’t his fault. After winning the lawsuit and a lifetime supply of wieners he retires to a farm in Idaho for a couple years to live out his soybean dream. But realizing that real world shit is real… he inevitably runs home to mommy right before she lands in the hospital because of complications due to gall stones. That’s when he realizes he’s gay.

Ingrid: You ever fuck a gay man? It’s interesting.

Mary stamps her finished cigarette on the ground and quickly lights another one.

Mary: (sighs) I actually have.

Ingrid: Well, don’t sound TOO excited.

Mary just stares out relishing her cigarette.

Mary: You know, I think it’s just looking back and learning from your choices. I don’t have any personal regrets I just-

Ingrid turns and gazes over at Pepe’, blowing smoke in his face.

Ingrid: (interrupting) You know, I had a sociology teacher tell me once that those who look backwards are backwards people.

Ingrid tosses her cigarette off the balcony and lights another one up. Turns to Mary.

Mary: My sociology teacher was always hitting on the rich, petite trust fund girls so he could find his gravy train ticket to quit academia and write his postmodern and objectivist book on the future of urban social structures while pretending to be hip, cool, and relevant when softly playing his corporate labeled “indie” music in class as background ambience. What a fucking tool.

Mary takes a deep drag from her cigarette. Smokes slowly dribbles out of her mouth and nose.

Ingrid: So you’d fuck him?

Mary: I DID fuck him. Where do you think he got Atlas Shrugged from?

Ingrid: So you didn’t introduce him to his “indie” music, that would subsequently be killed by the constant and repetitious playing over a 5 month span?

Mary: Dude I’m telling you, it’s like fucking retail. 8 hours a day. 40 hours a week. The same 3 corporate approved, scrubbed up “pop” music mixes. Usually a Grammy compilation or some shit. Fucking Kanye West, Kelly Clarkson, Nickelback…. Oooooooo it’s the worst with Nickleback. So painful. It’s like someone is simultaneously shoving a power drill in my ear and a jackhammer up my ass while giving me pink belly after a bottle of laxative was forced down my throat. I seriously have to shit multiple times a day when I’m in a situation like that. I just do, and it’s because I literally get sick to my stomach, my stomach actually churns and causes me to have multiple bouts of diarrhea… A DAY. I realize it’s all psychological, but….. Jesus fucking Christ, what a fucking joke right?

Ingrid: Umm…ewwwwww…...Maalox?

Ingrid sucks down the last bit of her cigarette and lights a new one off of it. Tosses the old one over. Blows smoke at Pepe’ and Mary.

Mary: I think I ingest enough chemicals in my life. Don’t need to ….

Ingrid: And your class? Does your professor ask….

Mary lights another. Sucks in a huge drag. Exhales.

Mary: Aside from asking why I recommended a Legendary Pink Dots compilation, he probably just thinks I have a weak bladder or something.

A beat. Mary and Ingrid both stare out. Ingrid still has that grin. Mary notices.

Mary: So what’s with the grin? Spork guy that cute?

Ingrid: No I uh…. I finished.

Mary widens her eyes.

Mary: Really. After…

Ingrid: (interrupting) 10 years. I procrastinated for over 10 years. Lived in flop houses and bus stops. Would work a few months to earn enough cash to fly to England, take speed, fuck British guys and come home justifying it was all part of the greater plan that would come to fruition when I was inspired to write my opus.

Mary: I remember: “The dalliances of old, succumb NOT to temptation but to the transfixed thoughts of the man on the tight rope thinking that across the great divide there is a solution to the message of the choice of life or death or grand stunts meant to look like meaningful gestures of dissent. The truth is, dissent breeds dissent. And THAT dissent will never reach its full potential until there is someone on the other side willing to discuss why we should discuss at all. That is when we will reach a nonutopia utopia. The world will reset, anything leftover should either wipe away their memories or destroy themselves. And those left over will discover a pleasure in human pleasure that no one will experience before or after. A watershed moment. A first high. A religious experience. We need those moments to remind us not only how small we are, but why we NEED to live at all. God is dead. Religion is moot. Superstitions are best told over a spooky night on a camping trip in Yosemite after having just bathed in the refreshing, ice cold, mysterious, and mist-shielded waterfalls that shimmer in the twilight like a crystal-laden tapestry of old. A work of art so moving and euphoric, that there is this collective sigh of relief. A relief in the sense that we know why we are here right now. Right this instance. And after soaking in the vibrant almost feral natural energy that permeates in these almost Arthurian natural surroundings our sexual desires are magnified even more. We need each other. Even if it’s just for a night. It’s not wrong. It’s truth. It’s important. It’s our destiny. We Win!”

Tears start welling up in Ingrid’s eyes.

Mary: (Smiling) You kept that part I hope.

She nods her head yes and gives Mary a hug.

Ingrid is a sobbing mess lights another cigarette and wipes her eyes and nose. Pets Pepe’ on the head.

Ingrid: I don’t know what happened. It just came together, like my heart telling me it was the right time or something. I had just gotten back from my friends Art Show in Laguna…oh you should’ve been there…. It was nothing but close up photos of eyes, with all these surrealistic dreamscapes photoshopped into each cornea. Fascinating. I end up meeting this guy there.

Mary: Of course you did.

Ingrid: Fuck you, I’m pouring my heart out here. ANYWAY, I meet this guy… artist… bohemian whatever. He was cute. So we end up having sex, and in the middle of it he starts bawling HIS eyes out telling me that when he was 18 he knocked up this girl. Girls parents were super religious. She has the baby. Gives it up for adoption to her Great Aunt in Indiana. So there is still that relative link, but it’s distant.

Mary: Wow.

Ingrid: So he’s telling me this while I’m having multiple orgasms. The more he would say the more it would turn me on. And then the kicker. The kid found him. She’s 18 now and through some family fuck up, info leak, she learned the truth. Found her dad. Forgave him. Wants to live with him while she goes to school at UC Irvine.

Mary: What’s she studying?

Ingrid: Law.

Mary: Nice.

Ingrid: But she’s super Christian.

Mary: (interrupting) Christian lawyer. Nice!

Ingrid: Yeah and she wants him to go to church with her. Her youth pastor in Indiana convinced her to go and try to “save” her dad.

Mary: Ok…… so….

Ingrid: Well he’s an atheist and a lot of his art reflects that I guess, but now he has a chance to reconnect with his only daughter. But reconnection, he feels, is done by being a complete hypocrite and sell out. And the irony is that’s his only path to true meaning. The daughter he never knew.

Mary: Yeah… I have no answer to that other than… how the hell did that get you to write your…

Ingrid: I don’t want to be a hypocrite. I’ve done a lot in my life. Good? Bad? It’s all relative. But there are things I’ve been wanting to get off my chest for a while, and I don’t….

Mary: Want to end up fucking some random dude at an art show 20 years from now whining that you’re that you HAVE to sell out for your life to have any meaning?

Ingrid lights another cigarette. Considers it then…

Ingrid: Yeah I guess. I mean…

Mary lights up another, she goes to lean over the balcony next Pepe’, opposite Ingrid.

Mary: (interrupting) My mom used to teach Kama Sutra retreats mostly for middle-aged couples looking to spice up not only their sex life, but their life in general. Stagnate. No Meaning, etc. I heard it all. And they thought their cure was sex. And for some it was. Most times, it was normal people escaping reality and the responsibilities therein. What they really did was….. pay for my college.

Ingrid: Really!?

Mary: Yeah, I would see all types (partially overweight, hairy hippie, washed-up model, etc.) including my mom and whomever she was dating at the time, have passionate, lengthy, adventurous, sometimes wet and nasty sex for 2 weekends a month, and 2 weeks in Hawaii in the summer.

Ingrid: That’s so interesting.

Mary: My mother would tell me to look at their faces right before and at the moment of penetration. Love. Beauty. I was 7 years old and I was bawling my eyes out while everyone was reaching orgasm. I got it…. Or at least I think I did….

Mary trails off… lights up another cigarette. Turns back to Ingrid, who lights up another.

They both stare off for a moment.

Ingrid: I remember one day when I was 12 years old, my best friend Shirley Stapleton, to my surprise, stole her mother’s glass double-ended dildo and brought it over. I had never seen one before. After staring at it, and talking about it for hours we both agreed that her mother shouldn’t have it, and we were going to throw it away. Walked over to a local Municipal Park picked a garbage can and tossed it in. But after Shirley went home I couldn’t sleep. I was having weird nightmarish sex dreams. Although I don’t think I understood them at the time. I don’t even remember what they were, I just remember waking up thinking that I wet my bed…. But I didn’t. I rubbed my crotch, noticing it was wet and sticky, and immediately had this amazing and soothing tingle that crept up and down my entire body. I was confused. Scared. Didn’t know what was happening really. Well maybe I did, because out of instinct I remember sneaking out of the house, and as if possessed and pulled by some otherworldly force, walked back over to the park and to the garbage can specifically. It was still in there. The blown glass mold of some C-level porn star’s cock, surrounded by mulch, cigarette butts, and a half eaten fast food burger. I didn’t know what to do. And before I knew it, I was leaning up against the garbage can, pants off, with this dirty garbage can glass double-ended dildo, breaking my hymen. Fucking myself. And then after orgasm, this guilty conscious immediately swarmed me. I was drowning. I was confused. Scared. I was 12 and in a dark park alone, lucky that no one saw me and my nefarious actions. I threw it away again and ran. Oh did I run. I ran like I was being chased by some axe murderer, and mind you I’m bleeding ironically… because it was kind of my first time. Run run run, back to the house. Quietly walk in…. with this trail of blood in my wake, which of course my parents thought was …well…. I went back to that park a couple days later. To that garbage can. And it was gone.

Mary: The memenic systems we’ve set up in regards to sexuality are laughable, yet society as a whole is afraid to peel back the onion.

Ingrid: Necessary it isn’t. Important and life affirming it is to many.

Mary: Deep down you prefer monogamy don’t you?

Ingrid: What?!

Mary: No. It’s fine. Many people do. And I totally understand why. There is a fear element associated with sexual openness. The idea is enticing, thrilling, invigorating. It’s that “wrongness factor” associated with it. Like when you’re a kid getting loaded on cheap wine and pot. It’s wrong… yet so right.

Ingrid: Yet so wrong. I hate cheap wine.

Mary: But as a kid you’re just looking to get fucked up.

Ingrid: I think the issue isn’t those who are open, it’s those who aren’t. This puritanical ideal of the “couple” is so arcane now, yet many are comfortable with it. It gives them meaning. Reason to live. Looks good in family photos.

Mary: At the end of the day, no matter how wild you are when you’re young, most people settle down into monogamous relationships.

Ingrid: Well it’s fear, like you said.

Mary: Society frames this concept inside most of us during our formative years. You’d have to deprogram yourself, unless you were born into it. It would be painful.

Ingrid: You’re making it all sound bleak, I find it quite easy and life affirming if you’re open to new ideas and have the self-confidence to match.

Mary flicks her cigarette off the balcony

Mary: When did you loose your virginity…. With an actual dick inside you?

Ingrid flicks her cigarette off the balcony

Ingrid: 14. Vaughn Bickner. His parent’s bed. You?

Mary and Ingrid both light up. Both take huge drags. Exhale.

A beat.

Mary: 9. Marshall Best. On the lawn of my mother’s Kama Sutra retreat. My mom and dad were there…. With me. My dad was a total gypsie, but he came for that occasion. They witnessed it. My mom held my hand actually.

Ingrid is in shock. Says nothing. Finishes cigarette and chucks it over the balcony. Lights another one up.

Mary: He was 10. Marshall. Last I heard he was Born Again, and now is a missionary in Zimbabwe. Has like 5 kids. None of them know.

Ingrid: Even his wife?

Mary: No. His parents were hippie, free love, very sexual, polyamorists. Marshall bought into the lie of fundamentalist religious monogamy. Believed that his parents committed the ultimate original sin.

Ingrid: Which is the complete opposite of what you think.

Mary: What I think? My parents commited another sin. They believed in creating the perfect utopia. What really happened was chaos and confusion. My parents thought that ideas would supercede actions and beget this sort of ethereal idea of liberty-fueled self-reliance. What did they get? An educated and ethical slut for a daughter, trying to piece her life back together for the past 15 years, bitter by the fact that she feels more comfortable in a structured system even though she doesn’t want to be. Longing for her true love. Longing for children. Longing for stability.

Ingrid: Natural things for any natural being.

Mary: But what’s natural about this world now anyway. We live in the epicenter of synthetic development. Most people don’t want natural, they want…

Ingrid: (interrupting) 4-pronged multi-colored Sporks.

Mary: And when you find out it’s all a lie?

Ingrid: It’s not a lie. That’s the scary truth. The lie is the idea that we can change the momentum of society to more liberal concepts.

Mary: But wasn’t that the thesis of your…?

Ingrid: (interrupting) I changed the thesis.

Mary: What is it now?

Ingrid: Change is necessary and assimilation is needed, but new liberal ideas remain on the fringes and we need that.

Mary: Why?

Ingrid: Well… it’s not so much needed as it is natural. We’re just becoming more self-aware as a species. And that’s what’s more important. Progression happens when those ideas on the fringes come to the center.

Mary: I’m very impatient though.

Ingrid: I like dreaming.

Mary: I still have my dreams.

Ingrid: I still have my dreams.

They stare at each other for a moment….

And then….

SUDDENLY… out of nowhere

KISS PATIONATELY!

They stop. Pull back. Don’t speak. Turn away from each other.

Ingrid walks back to her room.

Mary goes back to her book.

Mary: I love my dreams.

She lights up another cigarette. A few tears still stream down her face. She wipes them up.

Mary: I love my dreams.

The End.

A few weeks of nothingness

2009-04-07T14:53:00.000-07:00

So this new gig that I have, It's hard not to realize a few important truths.

1. A decision between bohemian-ry and stability is not only confusing and conflicting, but something that needs to be settled soon I think.

2. I need to do a better job at keeping touch with family and loved ones in Michigan. And I will do that.

3. This year has been a rough one for me. Career-wise, emotionally... Friends and family tell me to stay the course and things will work itself out, and I'm confident they will, but being in the thick of it sucks. And it's hard. It's hard, for me at least, to keep motivated creatively.... BUT I NEED TO. I really feel it's all I have now. Dedication? Persistence? It really boils down to Trust.

4. Music has kept me sane for these trying weeks. Certain music specifically. Lush, Legendary Pink Dots, Modwheelmood, Boards of Canada, The Chameleons, David Bowie, M83... and more. This has convinced me now more than ever, that music may be one of the most important artforms period. I challenge anyone to find another 3 minute euphoric escape that is as beautiful, textured, passionate and bold as music is. Good music. And this is coming from a writer!

5. I need a life change in a big way. And I need it soon. I'm not talking about packing it in and moving home or something. I just feel stagnate, and I think there are others close to me that can relate as well. I need to see things a little differently in order to spurn my creative juices more.

6. I need her.

Photo of the Day

2009-04-07T14:47:00.000-07:00

Fixed Heart by Lisa Black

Jesus On A Dinosaur!!

2009-03-24T12:52:00.000-07:00

Genius!

I love you Megan Joy...I am entertained by you American Idol.

2009-03-19T10:17:00.000-07:00

YES, I watch American Idol. It's super cheeseball corporate fluff meant to brainwash the masses into believing many fallacies, the overarching one, of course is that Top 40s and Grammy award winning music is the only stuff worth a damn. I even agree with Simon 99% of the time, but also realize that the music they choose, "groundbreaking", or "award-winning" music, is supposed to showcase their knowledge and historical link and appreciation to music throughout the ages, while at the same time making an effort to keep the show itself fresh and current. Most importantly they want people to buy into their musical sales pitch and argument (and the actual music as well) Smart for business, you can't argue that, because it's obviously paid off nicely. (Thank GOD they did away with all those 70s/80s "Love" and "Save the Children" ballads that used to permeate throughout the early years.)

First off "Groundbreaking" can mean just that. Many amazing artists will get famous off of their work and inspire generations of devotees to create more art. "Award-Winning"? That just tells me that they know how to market themselves to the corporations that run everything... in order to further their career and garner more cash. And then the label gives them the reach around jerks them off... they love it (mostly) and then a few years, a few lamer albums, and few world tours later their relevance declines. Even after grabbing a few more Grammys (which is meaningless), they realize that their prime is behind them. And then suddenly they see a great way to promote their next album and their persona again: play the role of the Industry-tested music veteran mentor to the freshly green newbie American Idol contestants. Do the photo op. Shamelessly self-promote your next album or single. You're corporate daddy will love you, and you know what, you'll probably garner more sales and attention even if it is for just a couple weeks.

With the rat race of any professional artistic industry, ubiquitous and self-aggrandizing nepotism makes the world go round; so it's no wonder that something like American Idol is the most popular show on TV period. Many artists and artists friends of mine hate the show, and I totally understand why... give it time and it will die like every other American TV show that seems to always wear it's welcome. But I guess I come to the conclusion that sometimes it's good to embrace the cheesy things in life once in a while as long as you don't let yourself drink the kool-aid, believing that a golden ticket is really the best way to "make it" as an artist. True great artists feed off the struggle of life. The journey it takes them. They tell stories and impart wisdom from their life experience. 16 year old kids who go all the way to win American Idol and become the corporate approved scrubbed up poster child for descent wholesome family music is just way lame and in some ways offensive to me. And even though it's nothing new, it seems like there is a lot more of it. BUT .... watching the madness makes life on this pale blue dot a bit more interesting.

HOWEVER... I must admit there are some jewels that come out of this show. One of which is a 23 single mother from Utah who has tats on arm, has this whole folky Neko Case and 40s Jazz Lounge singer vibe about her. A little edgy, but not off the rails. Oh and her American Idol profile says her favorite artist is Bjork. And did I also mention that she's HOT!?!?

Megan Joy.... I love you :)

Douchey McBaggenstein is at it again!

2009-03-18T17:00:00.000-07:00

So you just bought a $185k Porsche 911 and take it to fucking CIRCUIT CITY (which is now bankrupt) to get a stereo installation?! So a jackass kid that probably gets paid $10/hour maybe drives it in the parking lot....accidentally causes some damage to the car, but SERIOUSLY who is the bigger douchebag?!?!

Dude is now suing Circuit City AND the kid. Good luck getting that money buddy.

MEAT FOUNTAIN

2009-03-18T10:41:00.001-07:00

Oh shit! This is too genius NOT to post.

At a loss for words....

Me be slacking long time

2009-03-18T10:12:00.000-07:00

Well... life sometimes throws you a curve ball people, but sometimes you have to pick yourself back up and try it again. Now I know that sounds like the start of a cheesy melodramatic monologue from Ellen Pompeo in Grey's Anatomy right after she gets rejected by Patrick Dempsey. (No I don't watch the show.... have friends that do... ;]) ANYWAY... My life has been wacky this year so far... and I imagine it'll get wackier still.

I remember when I was a kid and would daydream all the time about days gone by. About fantasies about someone, something, sometime. Careers. Fame. Baby Names. Star Crossed lovers. The idea of do what you would do for free. That idealistic notion that is still so enticing to me, yet always seems further and further away the more I stumble over life's rough patches.

There are so many things that I want, but the one thing above all else is a venue for my to rant and dump all my emotions and feelings and ideas across.... and that is what this blog is supposed to be for. No no... that is WHAT it is for.

My friend Jason, understandably, sees potential in this blog and is really making a concerted effort into me updating more so I can eventually ..... quite possibly get advertisers.... grab some passive cash flow. (ie... make money off of my brain dumps.) I'm fine with that, just need to motivate myself to do it on top of all the other projects I have in various stages of disarray (Including a new Chain Smoking With Pepe' story which is ALMOST DONE... been doing the final tweaks on it!)

I leave you with this....

Bar Italia
by Pulp

Now if you can stand,
I would like to take you by the hand, yeah,
and go for a walk,
past people as they go to work.

Oh, let's get out of this place,
before they tell us that we've just died.
Move, move quick, you've gotta move.
Come on it's through, come on it's time.
Oh look at you, you,
you're looking so confused,
just what did you lose?

If you can make an
order could you get me one?
Two sugars would be great,
cos I'm fading fast,
and it's nearly dawn.

If they knocked down this place, this place,
it'd still look much better than you.
Move, move quick, you've gotta move.
Come on it's through, come on it's time.
Oh look at you, you,
you're looking so confused,
what did you lose?
Oh, it's ok it's just your mind.

If we get through this alive,
I'll meet you next week, same place, same time.
Oh move, move quick you've gotta move.
Come on it's through, come on it's time.
Oh look at you, you,
you're looking so confused,
what did you lose?

That's what you get from clubbing it.
You can't go home and go to bed,
because it hasn't worn off yet,
and now it's morning.
There's only one place we can go.
It's around the corner in Soho,
where other broken people go.
Let's go.

Cheers folks!!

thedreamlord

Warren Ellis' many Acts of Bloggery!

2009-03-18T09:59:00.001-07:00

A tip of the Hat to one of my Heroes!

Enjoy!

Pic of the Day!

2009-02-20T11:13:00.000-08:00

Been MIA for 11 days!?! Wow

2009-02-20T11:01:00.000-08:00

Sorry folks, little things turn into bigger things sometimes in life. The past week and a half have been a struggle.

Need to relax...

Happy When It Rains...

2009-02-09T11:29:00.000-08:00

Chain Smoking With Pepe'

2009-02-08T21:38:00.000-08:00

Issue 5

Somewhere near Santee, CA. On a crack ass motel balcony, sits a plastic owl on a rusty railing, with Dustin staring off cigarette dangling out of his mouth. The sun is starting to set.

Mary, Ingrid and Nate are walking up the stairs right by Dustin. They all have “I Voted” stickers on. All of them light up and gather around.

Mary: Not voting again this year?

Dustin continues to stare off.

Dustin: I live in this world, but I’m not of this world.

Ingrid: You’re just lazy.

Nate: Apathetic.

Mary: We all are!

Mary leans over the balcony next to him, and accidentally drops her cigarette.

Mary: Shit.

Mary lights up again.

Dustin: Well, if there’s anything that we, in “civilized” society, haven’t got our head around yet is that…

Ingrid: (interrupting) Anarchy? Pure liberty and free will?

Ingrid walks over to the other side of Pepe’. Leans over the balcony, chucks her cigarette off. Lights another one.

Nate: You realize that’s all fucking bullshit right?

Dustin: What are you going to tell me that I have no room to complain if I don’t vote? That IS my dissent. The BEST dissent frankly. I think that the less people vote, the quicker we’ll revolt from this failed “democratic” system that we’ve had for the past 200 years.

Nate: EVERYTHING evolves, from living organisms to systems of government. Give it time, society will come around and progress while the ever-dwindling holdouts of restricted thought (and thought itself of course) will wither away and die in their ignorance.

Dustin throws his cigarette off the balcony.

Dustin: How romantic.

Nate: It’s the truth. Society will progress whether you like it or not. So either join the revolution and try to make a difference OR NOT. Passive aggression is not a tactic. It’s laziness.

Mary: It’s fear.

Ingrid: It’s conceding the point even though you don’t think you are.

Dustin turns to all of them. Lights up another cigarette.

Dustin: Is this what this is going to be? You all chastising me for not doing my so-called “civic duty”?

Mary: No what this is is us telling you you’re an idiot for actually thinking that complacency is a backdoor way to change.

Dustin: I actually consider myself an idealist.

Billee: (OS) So am I.

We see Billee walking up the stairs smoking a cigarette with the same “I Voted” sticker on.

Billee: Anyone else vote Marijuana Reform across the board?

Ingrid: Oh! So you donated more toilet paper to the homeless? How thoughtful of you.

Billee walks over to Pepe and Ingrid. Lights a new cigarette with his current one. Chucks it off the balcony. Sucks in a big drag.

Billee: Hmmm…Someone’s cranky this morning? Did your candidate not get you your soy latte this morning after the ruphies wore off because he’s fucked you in the ass for the millionth time? Hope he used lube!

Ingrid turns to Billee smiling, smoke dribbling out of her nose and mouth.

Ingrid: Well, what can I say. He’s hot. The music was nice. I was drunk, and let myself get caught up in the moment. And would you know I’m not even sore?

She spanks her ass. Still smiles.

Ingrid: Otherwise known as “the devil you know”. Don’t act like a fucking idiot; you know that NO ONE you voted for today will win.

Billee: I don’t know that. Miracles happen. Plus, I like voting on principal and not deep throating the double-headed dragon cock that is our two party duopoly.

Nate rolls his rolls. Lights another clove.

Nate: Ok, I’ve had enough “idealism” for one day.

Nate starts to walk away. Tries to get Ingrid to come with him.

Ingrid: (to Nate) Hey!

Billee: (to Nate) What are you so afraid of?

Nate stops and turns. Sucking more of his clove down. Tosses it. Lights another.

Nate: Afraid? If there is anyone afraid, it’s YOU.

Billee: I’m afraid?

Nate: Yes you are. Of reality!

Dustin: I actually agree him on that one, Billee.

Billee: (to Dustin) You’re apathetic because you see everything going to shit…

Dustin: Chaos is healthy for societal growth. Our country is hooked to the “life-support machine” which is our system of government. We’re dying and we don’t want to pull the plug.

Billee: And what good will pulling the plug do again?

Dustin: We need to destroy the machine. It’s like fucking Terminator where they realize that the robotic arm wasn’t destroyed in the machine press, but actually, by some unknown means, wound up in a government funded laboratory where they are extracting and reverse engineering the technology and science behind it completely dubious to the fact that all of this will lead to fucking Judgment Day. Nuclear holocaust. End of society.

Billee: But, wait. You said you liked Chaos, yet you’re implying that if we do nothing Chaos will happen anyway.

Mary: He wants to speed the process.

Mary exhales a huge cloud of smoke. Continues to ash off the balcony. She gets another cigarette ready to light.

Billee: But why? You realize that millions of people will die?

Dustin: We’re mortal beings. We NEED to die. Our world’s overpopulated as it is.

Nate: So you’re for population control, yet you don’t vote.

Dustin: Who in the US is going to vote for a one-child law like china?

Ingrid: Yeah, I don’t think they voted for that one.

Dustin and Ingrid both light up another cigarette. Ingrid spits off the balcony.

Dustin: My point exactly. You need a communist or a totalitarian state to impose, in a “structured” way, necessary provisions for the survival of our species and our planet.

Billee: Wow, that’s a bold statement.

Dustin: I’m not for a totalitarian state.

Mary: So the only way to bypass all of this is Nuclear holocaust. Our world resets.

Ingrid: Let me get this straight. You’re standing there next to Pepe’, an idealist, yet you long for… the end of the world essentially.

Dustin: I know you all think I’m crazy, but remember they thought Copernicus and Galileo were crazy for promoting heliocentric astronomy.

Mary: Ha! Really…

Billee lights another cigarette. Spits off the balcony. Exhales and talks at the same time.

Billee: Yeah, but that’s something that was provable scientifically.

Dustin: And so is Anarchy. It’s not a pretty picture, but it’s-

Nate: (interrupting) A big fucking “what if”, is what it is.

Nate tosses his clove. Lights another. Throws his empty box off the balcony as well.

Ingrid: I can’t help but think about the environmental impact of a Chaos-laden world.

Dustin lights up again. As does Billee and Mary. Dustin turns to stare off in the distance again.

Then… turning back to his friends, he says.

Dustin: Actually if you think about it our environment will be cleaner. Less people. Less polluters.

Mary: Over time.

Billee: You wouldn’t make a serious dent in environmental concerns like global warming unless you killed…say…4 billion people?

Ingrid turns around to everyone.

Ingrid: Are you guys REALLY having this conversation?

Dustin: Relax.

Ingrid: What are you going to do with the 4 billion bodies? Burn them?

Nate: Send them to space.

Mary: Yeah, how long would that take? And how much fuel? We’d be polluting the skies more. Problem still wouldn’t be solved.

Dustin: Burning would probably be sufficient. In fact, those 4 billion would be helping the world in more ways than one. Think about it, you have some sort of system in place where you’d spread the bodies around the world to the places that need….to….. “green up”. Maybe sections of old growth rainforests that were chopped down for development. Put a million bodies in one place. Burn them… bury them. Natural fertilizer. Circle of Life. The world would be becoming whole again.

Billee: And a business opportunity too. Green Up fertilizer. You should patent that.

Ingrid lights up again. Sucks in about half. Exhales. Coughs. Spits.

Ingrid: That is fucking sick.

Mary: How would you do it though?

Dustin: Nuking would be the easiest way, but than you couldn’t use the 4 billion as fertilizer because of the radioactivity factor. So that leaves regular type warfare tactics. Guns, Tanks, etc etc. I was thinking though, just now, that if you could fashion a way to instigate an earthquake or volcanic eruption… or both… that would be the best way. It would be clean, natural…

Nate: Not unless the sewer systems bursts underneath.

Dustin: Well then volcano. That DOES limit the areas to where we can get these 4 billion people because I was thinking the best places to go would be most of India and China. There’s probably 2 billion right there. And then a lot of South America. Africa.

Billee: Parts of the middle east.

Nate: Jerusalem could go. Jerusalem, Mecca…

Ingrid: Jesus Christ!!! People! Can we NOT talk about mass global genocide right now? I just ate.

They ALL light up and stare off for a long moment. We briefly focus on Pepe’. And then each individual.

Nate finally breaks the silence.

Nate: (to Dustin) So, why not work within the system for change rather than longing for its destruction?

Dustin turns back to Nate…

Dustin: Because that’s predicated on the fact that we need a system, but more importantly it implies that the system itself is good, both of which I don’t believe.

…Than Ingrid.

Ingrid: But given the right leadership…?

Dustin: It’s all a fucking illusion! Our system isn’t our system. It’s an ideal that the government propaganda machine uses to brainwash us into thinking that our theoretical democratic system works for the good of mankind. The Soviet Union did the same thing. The idea of communism isn’t bad. It’s very noble. We’re all equals. Sharing the burden. Sharing the wealth….Sharing the misery.

Mary: So your answer to everything is letting the world sink into chaos. Tell me, how would shit get done? Infrastructure, law enforcement…

At this point everyone’s in a semi-circle looking, talking, and smoking.

Dustin: We would be our own law enforcement.

Mary: And knowledge? How would knowledge be protected?

Ingrid: What about the value of goods?

Dustin: Well, first off, we’d have to go back to a barter and trade system economy.

Nate: Riiiiight. That whole libertarian ideal of “reconnecting the link” between our commodities and goods and…

Dustin: (interrupting) We have no REAL concept of what anything is worth. I mean, what’s the process by which “things” are valued? It’s not based on anything physical or tangible I can tell you. Things like the Federal Reserve killed that.

Mary: Contrary to conspiracy theory 101 here, our economy is a product of human thought and collective advancement. Thus as society and thought progresses, so does our economy. I mean what the fuck are we going to do, go back to trading corn for goats or some shit?

Ingrid: We do that already on a global scale don’t we?

Nate: So I guess we HAVEN’T gone away from the barter and trade system economy, huh?

Nate lights up another clove. Dustin follows suit with a cigarette.

Dustin: All artificial systems created by man are doomed to failure. None of this is necessary for our survival and perpetuation as a species.

Mary lights up another.

Mary: …and all the knowledge in the world would go back to monasteries and super religious exclusive clubs like they did back in the dark ages?

Dustin: Well hopefully by the time we get to an anarchical state, religion will be moot and meaningless in our everyday lives.

Mary: OK…. SO… how do you protect knowledge in a world that is unregulated?

Dustin: Knowledge should be unregulated!

Ingrid lights another.

Ingrid: Slippery Slope.

Dustin: Look, all we do NOW is slow down the inevitable, and we know it. So my argument is-

Billee: (interrupting) … why fight it? It makes sense. You know what also makes sense? Having some sort of structure. Now, “structure” is different for different people, but it’s…

Billee STOPS mid-sentence. A light bulb goes off in his head. He thinks… lights another cigarette.

Billee: You know, you’re whole argument is rooted in the fact that free market capitalism is evil, and from that launching pad we can surmise quite simply that the modern consumerist society is evil… not as evil as capitalism, but still-

Dustin: (interrupting) Our individuality is being systematically dissected by corporations, think tanks, ad agencies, marketing firms… celebrities hocking products for endorsement cash. Our image based society that is probably molded like play dough years in advance. Because like democracy, capitalism is an illusion too. The deals really get made not by the honest jovial creative salesman type individual who spend years…. YEARS, slaving away at an idea, only to be cast out to wolves. And than that very idea gets filed away… then gets sent up to higher and higher management... until it finally gets to the top brass of whatever perspective company you’re talking about. They’ll look it over. Look at their calendar for the next 20 years and try to fit it in somewhere maybe… if it works of course.

Mary: But they’ll STILL need some sort of creative advisor.

Dustin: Of course. And he OR she probably has their PhD in Business Anthropology from Oxford or Harvard or something… and most likely their link to the youth market was predicated on their image. That sort of hip, corporate-approved punk rock look. The image they bought into because they bought to this consumerist meme itself. Stalking and collecting the used and discarded condoms of Pete Wentz and Tom Delonge with the hopes of making an emo chum baby, all while listening to the Best Of American Idol on their American Idol Ipod while rolling on ecstasy for the first time. Douche bag sell outs with no sense at all of what the youth and, for the most part, ANYONE ELSE WANTS. They write shitty vampiric goth poetry that all of US stopped writing after our sophomore year in high school, because we got laid. Has a poster of an oiled-up Scott Stapp from 1998 that is STILL masturbated to. And the irony of all of this is the entire through line to this person’s existence on earth and meaning within the corporation is purely symbolic. The corporation wants to look cool. Or have the illusion of looking cool…. Which is STILL looking cool depending if you buy into their bullshit. But at the end of the day it’s all rich white guys playing Risk and shifting around their wealth amongst each other deciding whose turn it is to have their back scratched while they’re swapping high class prostitutes like baseball cards. What we think is reality is a fucking lie.

Mary: So, why not go to the desert, mountains, whatever. Start hunting for your food. Be a hunter/ gatherer. Live off the land. Disconnect yourself from the system that you currently both fund and hate at the same time.

Dustin: Because I like my life. I like my friends. I just see the potential in all of us for greatness.

Mary: You’re a fucking hypocrite.

Dustin: We’re all wired for self-preservation. We use what is available to us… in our immediate surroundings and beyond… to….. live.

Billee: And if you died tomorrow, what would you say your accomplishments were? How will you be remembered? Will you be remembered?

Dustin: Well If I’m dead I can’t really care about… anything. I wish I could. I wish I……

Dustin lights another cigarette and stares off again.

A long moment. Silence.

Dustin: (softly) I…. miss…. Apricots.

Billee: Hm?

Ingrid: Confused.

Mary: Dustin?

Dustin: (interrupting) Just promise me… you’ll bury me under my grandmothers apricot tree.

Mary: What….the fuck….are you talking about?

Ingrid: This is getting a little-

Nate: (interrupting) Yeah, let’s go.

Ingrid and Nate walk off. Both flicking their cigarettes off the balcony.

Billee: (to Dustin)What are you talking about?

Dustin turns to them.

Dustin: Oxnard. My grandmother’s house. Well… it used to be. There’s an apricot tree there. Hopefully it’s still there.

Mary and Billee are speechless.

Dustin: Spending the summers there as a kid. Playing in her backyard. Under the tree. Under that shade. Like protection from evil I always thought. Eating those fresh apricots. When it rained I loved it. Mmmm… The purity of those memories. The innocence. I miss that.

Mary: Um.. Dustin? Are you ok? Did your grandmother die or-?

Dustin: (interrupting) She died four years ago.

Billee: We’re just talking here it’s not like-

Dustin: (interrupting) That’s how I want to be remembered.

Another long moment of silence. They all just smoke.

Billee: A little kid playing around in his grandmother’s backyard in Oxnard 30 years ago? You’ve lived life, more than most will, and have plenty left to live.

Dustin starts to get a little emotional now.

Dustin: Then why is the world going to shit and nothing we do stops it? I love my situation, yet I can’t believe in anything anymore. There I believed. I miss believing!

Mary: Then create.

Dustin: I do!

Mary: No…. REALLY create.

Dustin: Fuck you.

Mary: Then believe in ME. Believe in Billee. Believe in this place. Believe in Pepe’.

Dustin: I don’t believe in anything! That’s what I’m trying to tell you!!

Mary: That’s my point! Dammit Dustin, you’re at ground zero! And it may feel like the worst possible situation, but maybe… JUST MAYBE…. It’s the best possible situation. It’s time to create. It’s time to believe. Start at your immediate surroundings.

She lights another cigarette and slowly approaches him.

Mary: Start with me.

The End

Gold Day

2009-02-06T16:23:00.000-08:00

by Sparklehorse

good morning my child
stay with me a while
you not got any place to be
won't you sit a spell with me

you've got diamonds for eyes
it's time for you to rise
and evaporate
in the sun
sometimes it can weigh
a ton

keep all your crows away
hold skinny wolves at bay
in silver piles of smiles
may all your days be gold my child

a necklace of leaves
spirits in the trees
and drown all the clocks 'til there's none
little ambient in the sun

keep all your crows away
hold skinny wolves at bay
in silver piles of smiles
may all your days be gold my child

ha-ah, ha-ah, ha-ah, hah-ahh

good morning my child
stay with me a while
and evaporate in the sun
sometimes it can weigh a ton

keep all your crows away
hold skinny wolves at bay
in silver piles of smiles
may all your days be gold my child
may all your days be gold my child
may all your days be gold my child
may all your days be gold my child

Toke UP Michael Phelps!

2009-02-06T16:11:00.000-08:00

Seriously. Who Gives a SHIT if this guy wants to take the occasional bong hit. I think he's earned it having won all those gold medals in Beijing and arguably being the greatest swimmer ever. Hell I'd give the guy a joint if... i had one... and if he happened to be hanging out with me.... and.... yeah you know what I mean.

But now he's given a slap on the wrist... suspended... whatEVER. WHO FUCKING CARES! Seriously.

Can't we stop being all babies about the situation and let an adult toke up in peace?

My eyes are turning to jelly

2009-02-06T15:50:00.000-08:00

But in a way... I'm HAPPY about it!

Obama... FAIL!

2009-02-05T09:42:00.000-08:00

UGH! Why Barack Obama? WHY!?! He decided to take a shit on the First Ammendment like George W. Bush and not only keep, but EXPAND the White House Office of Faith Based Initiatives.

Now I know that this was a "campaign promise", but seriously, aside from the obviously thing that this shouldn't be on the top of his list right now, and personally is offensive... it was offensive when George W. Bush did it, and in a way it's even MORE offensive now. Because he's going to expand it. Because his campaign was supposed to be about change, and this is anything but. it's the fact that in his damn inaguaration speech he implied that nonbelievers had a equal place at the table. But of course when should've seen through machiavellian bullshit, because if nothing there were 2 Christian prayers at the ceremony itself.

America really REALLY needs to get over itself.

We will have an openly gay president before we have an openly atheist one.

Why are we still so puritanical? ):

Wow... I've been slackin' lately.

2009-02-04T10:52:00.001-08:00

But here's something that is .... well.... just watch it!

Chain Smoking With Pepe'

2009-02-02T11:01:00.000-08:00

Issue 4

Somewhere near Santee, CA on a crack ass motel balcony sits a plastic owl on a rusty railing with Nate in a bathrobe leaning over it nursing a clove. It is morning. The birds are chirping. Well, except for Pepe’.

Nate: When is a man not a man anymore, Pepe’?

Close on Pepe’, smoke clouding his face.

Nate: Would you believe that the answer is as simple as realizing that asking that very question itself is the slippery slope?

Nate grabs another clove from his pack and lights it off the one he’s just finishing. He stares off.

Ingrid: (OS) How can you even generalize the feelings of all men anyway?

Ingrid is walking out wearing only a very tight; white see-through undershirt and white panties to match. She is stunningly sexy. She lights up a cigarette.

Nate: Because I’m a man. And you’re a woman.

Flustered, Ingrid throws her cigarette off the edge and turns to walk back to the room.

Ingrid: Right. So I don’t understand men.

Nate: Not fully no. I know I don’t understand women fully.

Ingrid: It’s because you don’t listen.

Ingrid turns back around walks toward Nate blowing smoke in her path.

Nate: I listen plenty. You just need to realize that different sexes are….well…. different.

Ingrid: OoooOOoOOooOo… So I’m a woman only to do womanly things, right? I must deal with the fact that I…what? …still live in a neo-patriarchal society? The glass ceilings are bulletproof? I’m an object to be taken advantage of? Or MAYBE I’m just a token of indie/ bohemian ideals. Yeah that’s it. Freelove. LSD, Petulie… I know how much you love Petulie.

Nate: Yeah… having a dream where I get kidnapped by a band of 60-year-old hippies while I was on mushrooms watching Holy Mountain in Portuguese…not fun.

Ingrid: Oh wait, but what about the part where… those hippies, who had seen better decades if not better years, had killed your cat?

Nate: Yeah they also threw a rucksack over my head and took me to this old sage would claimed to be a Breatharian, FOLLOWED BY my baptism, with Petulie oil, which they carried out by pouring it out of an old raggedy Kangaroo scrotum. I wake up in a pool of sweat, turn and see Nag Champa incense burning that I know you lit. Fucking freaked me out. That’s what you want to hear right?

Ingrid: Nag champa is not petchuly.

Nate: There in the same family, Ingrid. Can’t you go to a hippie shop and get them in like a combo pack or something?

Ingrid lights up another trying to collect her thoughts. So does Nate.

Ingrid: Fucking forget it.

She starts to walk away again.

Nate: Ingrid!

She stops, turns around.

Ingrid: So, I guess I just have sex with men don’t I? Tickle their balls, finger their assholes, piss in…

Nate: (interrupting) INGRID! Jesus Christ, can we fucking back up a bit?

Ingrid: Fuck you!

She goes to walk away.

Nate: This happens every fucking time we have sex. I say the mildest of things and you get so god damn emotional you walk away. What are you going to do, go fuck the guy in 212 like last time?

Ingrid: Esteban listens.

Nate: Esteban sees a hot half-naked emotional girl needing attention and he gladly gives it out.

Ingrid: You don’t know what Esteban and I have.

Nate: You’re right Ingrid, I don’t know. I’ll never know. But see, right now. Right this second; I’m not loosing my shit. I’m calm. Collected. Focused on my thoughts. Smoking this clove. Smoking next to Pepe’ here. Realizing that I’m fine with this open relationship thingy we have going on. It’s cool. YOU on the other hand, don’t want to admit that you just want me.

Ingrid gives Nate a scolding look then back over to Pepe’. She chucks her cigarette off the balcony. Lights another up.

Ingrid: You’re an arrogant ass. You think that just because you still stick your dick in my vagina frequently that somehow I’m only emotionally invested in you?

Nate: Psh. I know it is, otherwise why would you use sex with someone else as leverage against me on top of a gender rolls statement I made that you are obviously not understanding.

Ingrid lights ANOTHER cigarette. Sucks in a good amount. Smiles. Exhales.

Ingrid: Well, what if you were castrated? Would you be a man then?

Nate: OH… so you’re THAT pissed at me?

Ingrid: Don’t be a douchebag, just answer the-

Nate: (interrupting) Of course! I would be a very depressed, borderline suicidal man. BUT I would still be a man. Masculinity as with Femininity has to be more than just body parts. It’s a state of mind right?

Ingrid: Our body parts are a symbol of our sexuality. You can’t separate the two.

Nate: Even if you had a mastectomy?

Ingrid: Again, SYMBOLS. We can get a boob job, and then psychologically we still have 2 tits.

Nate: So by that rationale, if I got castrated, I can still be called a man if I went and got fake balls? The delineation between sexual identity and not is how well you fake it through money?

Ingrid: For us and our privileged society… YES.

Nate: Right.

Nate takes a long drag off his clove and stares off. Spits over the balcony. Ingrid still smiles finishing up her cigarette, throws it over, lights another.

Ingrid: I knew this is how you would react.

Nate: Look, I don’t know how you feel right now. I can speculate and judge you, which maybe I already did a little, but still…. I’m not a woman… you’re not a man. Let the generalizing begin!

They both take deep drags. Ingrid walks over to Pepe’ and stares in his eyes.

Ingrid: I’m sure Pepe’ understands. He sits out here and hears so much drama, it’s surprising that he doesn’t go insane and jump off into blisteringly smashing ending…

Nate: Smashing. Nice.

Ingrid continues.

Ingrid: And maybe he’ll take with him the memories and spoils of war from countless generations that actually decided to come to this place. Santee, California. Is that an old Indian name that’s some sore of audible call for a virgin sacrifice?

Nate: It’s named after some dude I think.

Ingrid: Oh really?

Nate: Yeah… and umm…generalizing Native Americans are we?

Ingrid: I’m a Native American. I was born here. Currently living here… and most likely will die here.

Nate rolls his eyes. Lights up another clove.

Nate: Riiiiiight. So… “Indian” is your term?

Ingrid: American Indian.

Nate: You DO realize that THEY are Native Americans as well….per your definition?

Ingrid: You know what I mean.

Nate: And you do ALSO realize that virginal sacrifice wasn’t common in all tribes.

Ingrid: So I can’t freely brainstorm without being castigated by you? Jesus Christ!

Nate: But you said-

Ingrid: (interrupting) I’m not racist Nate. You know I’m not.

Nate: Look, all I’m saying is society has, understandably, given these people a free pass on what label they want to prescribe to. Native Americans? American Indians? Let them call themselves what they want to be called.

Ingrid: Fine, but I am the definition of a Native American, Nate.

Nate lights another clove off the one he was smoking. He spits off the balcony, turns to Ingrid.

Nate: Look. Call yourself what you want. No one’s stopping you. But you’re a smart girl. Do you think you can get away with calling yourself a Native American in public, being a pasty faced white kid from the suburbs with a trust fund?

Ingrid: It’s just not fair. We claim to be for freedom, but it’s easier and more convenient to compartmentalize and categorize.

Nate: This country isn’t for freedom. It’s for controlled euphoria. Hate to be the bearer of bad news.

Ingrid paces a bit, shaking her head in frustration. She lights up another. So does Nate.

Ingrid walks back to Pepe’ stares at him. Feels him.

Ingrid: Anyway, Pepe’s just a plastic owl. He’s not real.

Nate is still staring out, now in almost a trance-like concentration.

Nate: Oh “real”, “not real”, “our reality”. Freedom? Oh how I love thee Pepe’. Unless….

Nate snaps out of his trance. Turns to Ingrid and Pepe’.

Nate: UNLESS Pepe is a lifeform we don’t understand yet.

Ingrid: Riiiiight. I think I’m going to check on Esteban.

Ingrid starts to walk away again.

Nate: No wait! Think about it. We’re actually the dream state illusion, and Pepe’ is the dreamer. Or the dream lord.

Ingrid stops and turns back around with a weird smirk on her face.

Ingrid: Yes yes. So, of course, all the forms of science and logic and rational thinking leads us to believe that Pepe’ is just an inanimate object sitting there for the bemusement of passersby, right?

Nate is more excited. Ingrid is kind of amused by this.

Nate: YES! Thus making all of this a lie. Now obviously our rational minds can’t conceive that conclusion in the known universe and laws of it that we’ve already systemized.

Ingrid: But that’s where imagination comes in. That’s why art is important.

Ingrid walks over to Nate. Close. Very close.

Nate: That is why I love you.

Ingrid glows. This is what she wanted to hear.

Nate leans over and gives Ingrid a smoke-filled kiss. They both light up again.

Nate: I mean, wouldn’t it be funny if our entire reality here at this motel is just the outward projection of Pepe’ himself? That all we are, is just the amalgamations of the dream of a plastic owl. That really his presence here is some sort of curse. That maybe he is a conduit from another time, era… maybe dimension?

Nate sucks down a little more, begins to pace. Ingrid stares on, looking slightly amused.

Nate: Maybe 30,000 years ago in a different phase of our reality, because of course there are multiple phases in a world… take ghosts for instance… they are just people/ creatures from another phase harnessing a technology beyond our comprehension that has them jump from phase to phase, dimension to dimension…. MAYBE 30,000 years ago in a different phase of our reality, a great battle was waged …. Ultimate good vs. Ultimate evil type shit. Evil won…..they destroyed, mutilated, desecrated etc etc… the Good guys… whoever they are. The very existence and memory of everything good, noble, and happy was forever destroyed never to come back again to that phase.

Nate pulls out another clove and lights it off the one he is finishing. Ingrid lights up another one and pulls in closer to Nate wrapping her arm around his waist

Nate: HOWEVER as a final countermeasure the good guys sent a curse of some sort. A curse of goodness.

Ingrid: A curse of goodness?

Nate: Whatever… Anyway, so it didn’t start out as a plastic owl, but over time …. When their technology was advanced enough to travel between phases the curse was able to jump to our phase, inhabit the essence of a plastic owl, whose new purpose is to ONLY trap good and noble thoughts, experiences, civilizations, life journeys while not really perpetuating the bad, but fooling the bad into thinking that they are the good and righteous. Hence, once Pepe’ decides to jump, or is destroyed by other means, everything here … life, perception, mood, ambition… and beyond… Everything will be better. Will be good. But the price to that of course is, the absence of our reality. We will instantly cease to exist.

Ingrid: But why would they do that? Why wouldn’t they let goodness permeate throughout the dimensions and phases, instead of trapping it? It makes you wonder what they have to hide. Or are they ashamed of goodness for some reason?

Nate: Maybe they don’t think our phase of reality is ready for true pure goodness yet. And when it is, maybe that’s when Pepe’ jumps.

Ingrid: So Pepe’, like us, is trapped.

Nate: Exactly. But I have to believe that everything that he’s absorbed from our reality will be learned from in order to produce a better world.

Ingrid: Yeah. So I guess our world isn’t shitty enough, huh?

Nate laughs. Ingrid continues to smile.

Nate: And THIS is why we are not ready for true pure goodness. Thank you Pepe’.

Nate turns to Pepe’ and pats him on the head.

Ingrid: I think we are.

Ingrid throws her cigarette off the balcony and bats her eyes. Nate turns and smiles.

Ingrid: I think…

The END.

Oh this is GENIUS!

2009-01-29T11:44:00.000-08:00

Gay Wheel of Fortune Champion. He introduces his fiancee to America. AND HE WINS!

A Funeral for a toilet?

2009-01-29T11:03:00.000-08:00

Yes yes. At a Utah Carl's Jr, their public toilet literally was blown up. Now my ever wandering mind would like to think that someone had just at the 6 dollar Jalapeno burger and allowed a lot of.... umm.... pressure to build up before he undoubtedly was forced to sink the porcelain battleship.

But no, it was just a gun.

hahaha silly me.

Good Morning Miss Bliss

2009-01-28T08:25:00.000-08:00

Brain dump

2009-01-27T12:03:00.000-08:00

I find that thinking about the past is easier than thinking about the future. and forget the fucking present. the present is soooooooo continuous that the past and the future exist yet they don't exist in perpetuity. what am i saying? quite simply that meaning and time don't have to be mutually exclusive. that one's purpose in life, shouldn't be time-based at all. in fact i don't know if the word or concept of purpose even has the briefest of hints with regards to time in its definition. so if purpose is not based on time, what is it based on then? well... it's easy to surmise that purpose itself is based on eternity. because the actions and the repercussions from those actions are eternal. whether good or bad. old or new. boundary pushing or not. eternity is what we seek. that's why we procreate. that's why we want a legacy. why we want to be remembered.

and the greastest purpose of all is to love and be loved in return.

now here's bob with the weather....

Chain Smoking With Pepe'

2009-01-23T14:41:00.000-08:00

Issue 3

Somewhere near Santee, CA, on a crack ass motel balcony, sits a plastic owl on a rusty railing with Mary next to it. She lights a cigarette with one she has just finished. It is raining. A door slams.

Mary: What is it now?
Billee: Nothing I just…

Billee lights up. Mary throws her ailing butt off the balcony. Smoke dribbles out of her mouth.

Billee: I need my own place Mary.
Mary: It’s a little difficult to do that when you get paid 50 bucks every 5 months for a Dali-inspired sketch of a melting ballsack.
Billee: Actually I’ll have you know the last one was the finger of “God” in a wormhole pointing the way to the crab nebula.
Mary: Is the finger actually going into the hole or coming out of it?
Billee: Out. It’s pointing the way to…
Mary: (interrupting) … the crab nebula. Yes. I got that part.

A moment. They both lean over the balcony enjoying their cigarettes.

Mary: So… it’s a finger in a hole pointing to a crab?
Billee: It’s much more than that simplistic.
Mary: But if I were to sum it up in some sort of pitch to an art dealer. Gallery owner, etc. I would say “It’s a finger in a hole…IN SPACE… pointing to a big intergalactic crab. “
Billee: Mary it’s supposed to be symbolic. Describing it that way just cheapens its meaning.
Mary: And that is?

Mary puts her arm around Pepe’. Takes a deep drag and blows it in Billee’s direction.

Billee: The dream of a post-theistic society. The crab represents this far away idea that the ubiquity of thought will one day be hyper-rational, yet non-religious or theistic.
Mary: And what about the “finger of God”?
Billee: Well “God” is our collective unconscious. Or maybe a better way to put it is, God is what we create it to be.
Mary: Ok, so we… what… become more self-aware? Scientific understanding trumps anything supernatural. We learn to be content with the concept of single life mortality?
Billee: Our body and mind constantly are evolving. From the single celled organisms, to the first aquatic life, to the first land animals, to millions and millions of years later evolving to what we are today. We live. We change. We adapt. We survive. Millions and millions of years from now, what will our concept of God be? And more importantly, do we have any control over it at all? Ancient humans created God and religion to deal with their fear of death.
Mary: And it’s still a powerful motivator. We still die.
Billee: But will we millions of years from now?
Mary: So millions of years from now we’ll become immortal?
Billee: Yes. We’ll become immortal and essentially become Gods in our own right. Then when new worlds are forming, because of course we’ll be traveling the universe at hyper-lightspeed...

Mary lets go of Pepe’, makes sure he’s ok on the railing. Lights another cigarette

Mary: (interrupting)…Wormhole.
Billee: …We’ll divvy up galaxies, systems, planets and become the Gods of those worlds.
Mary: Create religions.
Billee: Nope, that’s what they do. We make the technological advancement of man, seem supernatural to them. They choose whether they want to go down that path or not.
Mary: But everything you’ve said, implies that we have no choice. No free will. That we’re evolving blobs of goo destined to become gods and there’s nothing anybody can do about it because it’s natural. It’s evolution. Millions of years, etc.
Billee: Mary, you live today. You are a product of evolutionary history up until right now. And undoubtedly everything you do, whether you believe it or not, has a direct correlation with your personal evolutionary journey.

They both lean over the balcony and smoke. Mary fans Billee’s smoke from her face. Finally Mary turns back to Billee.

Mary: What the fuck are you talking about?
Billee: Your concept of “God”. Becoming a “God”. Immortality, etc, is tainted by the fact that you don’t know how humans will evolve in the next few million years. Physically, Mentally, and “Spiritually”.
Mary: You’re right I don’t. Neither do you.
Billee: Just brainstorm with me. Open your mind.
Mary: Fine.
Billee: Take a basic topic: Marriage. In a million years, what’s the concept of marriage going to be like? Will there be marriage at all? Will sexual preference even matter? Will children even grow up with their family, parents or their siblings?
Mary: Ok fine. But what about certain universal truths?
Billee: Like?
Mary: Murder. It is wrong. Immoral. I can’t fathom a single way that would not be looked on negatively from society as a whole. Even if it were a million years from now.
Billee: That is, of course, if the society isn’t immortal at that point.
Mary: Billee!
Billee: But fine. A million years from now, maybe knowledge is more that just power, but sacred. That our most important goal in life is to become a universal encyclopedia. Which is why we eventually become Gods, right?
Mary: So murder would be not only justified, but also revered because it’s one step closer on your way to the pantheon of a divinely angelic existence?
Billee: And also, think about the terms we use. Holy, Divine, Almighty, Majesty, and other penitent references. NOW. Now think about evolution. Pre-literate tribal communities inventing religion. The leaders that led them. That killed many many people to instill the fear and respect in their authority. AND they were immune to the law unless someone overtook them. And then the cycle continues.
Mary: It’s the same today and it’ll be the same a million years from now, I get it.

Both Billee and Mary light up again, chucking their old ones off the balcony. The rain is still coming down hard. Mary wipes Pepe’s head off, blowing smoke in his face.

Billee: So basically that’s it. It’s my dream for a more….open future.

Billee and Mary stare off for a bit. Sucking down half their cigarettes.

Mary: I just had unprotected anal sex with a complete stranger.
Billee: In a million years that will be as normal as checking email.
Mary: Right.
Billee: Because we’ve wiped out sickness at that point.
Mary: Right.

Billee turns to look at her. Pets Pepe’ on the head.

Billee: But… that actually is a bit dangerous.
Mary: I actually, as crazy as you might think this sounds, know he’s a good person.

Billee looks confused. The rain is still coming down. They both light up again.

Mary: A million years right?

Nate enters, smoking a clove, and moves past Mary toward Billee. He lights up another one.

Nate: Let’s all go burn down a church!
Billee: What church?
Nate: Does it matter?
Mary: The church is actually the people, not the building that houses them.
Nate: OoOooOooOo. Sorry! I meant the building, smart ass.
Billee: Well… “after hours” is the time to do it obviously.
Mary: Yeah unless there’s people inside.

Nate lights up another clove. Takes a big drag. Exhales. Spits over the side of the balcony.

Nate: I find the fake benevolence of most religious bodies disgusting. They’ll claim to be for saving their common man, yet won’t go next door to even talk about it with someone.

Billee and Mary seem uninterested. Just continue to smoke.

Nate bends over and stares down Pepe’. Clove hanging out of his mouth.

Nate: By the way, Billee, that space painting you gave me…. I took a big shit on it.

Billee and Mary both stare at him in shock.

Billee: WHAT!?!
Mary: Why would you do that?
Nate: It needed that extra bit of…. realism.
Billee: But it’s SURREAL! And who the fuck are you to decide what needs more realism?

Billee lights another. Mary chucks her butt off the balcony speechless.

Nate: Don’t worry. I spared the nebula.

And with that Nate walks away with clove smoke in his wake. Mary turns to a very angry Billie with a smirk.

Mary: He spared the dream.

The End.

There's getting "high" off Obama

2009-01-23T09:25:00.000-08:00

And then there's literally getting high off Obama.

Of course the police busted this drug ring, so we should all say YAY DRUG WAR! Because isn't that 30+ years and hundreds of millions of tax payer money well spent?