all things must pass

To clarify:

When I stated in my last post that Eve and I will never be apart ever again, I didn't mean in a physical sense.

It has been written that all things must pass. Whether you claim your source to be the Bible, Robert Frost, or George Harrison, it is a sentiment that reverberates inside of me every waking moment of every day.

I know one day she and I will die and leave this temporal plane of existence. I also know that I cannot spend every single minute with her, nor can we attempt to do so without serious detriment to our lives independent of each other.

What I meant by my words yesterday is this: She is always with me, no matter where I go, no matter what I do, and I don't think even the grave can extinguish the bond we have.

First and foremost, she is my dearest and closest friend. What killed me the most during those years we spent apart was not so much the love that was lost, but the friendship that seemed to be irreparable. And yet, her image in my mind haunted me so much during our years apart that it almost drove me insane.

The biggest thing that angered me when she was with Dick was that he refused to let her be my friend, and she allowed him to have that power over her.

Interestingly enough, Eve called in to work yesterday just as we were getting ready to go to the Natural History Museum. She was informed by a co-worker that someone called and left a message for her... from jail.

The operator asked if the call recipient would accept the charges. Rather than leave his name, the caller used the allotted time to wish her a Happy Birthday.

Eve is pretty sure it was Dick. She didn't know he'd been locked up or for what reason, but it would also explain why he hadn't bothered her in some time.

I know she still feels something for him: Call it pity, residual emotions, compassion, whatever you want to call it. I don't begrudge her that. I understand that.

But as for my feelings about him... I think it's obvious how I feel.

I kept my mouth shut as we drove to meet Laurie and Daniel. My mind, however, was dwelling on the reversal of fortunes between me and Dick.

All things must pass, it is written


*/*


Eve has been going on about this exhibit at the Natural History Museum in L.A. for weeks now. It is entitled "The Mysterious Bog People".

And what a mystery it was: I'd never heard anything about this exhibit, nor had I any point of reference regarding its content. All I knew was that Eve was excited about going to see it, so much so that we all took off time from work for her birthday.

Eve went crazy with the digital camera I bought her for Christmas. Like a little kid running amok in a candy shop, I saw the glimmer of mischief and wonder in her eyes as she pointed her camera at everything with a visual aesthetic: skylines, fountains, flowers, and lots of candid shots of the rest of us going about our business.

I was a bit delirious from having worked a double shift in order to get the time to accompany her to the exhibit: I came into work at 4:30 in the morning, after having stayed up all night working on cartoons; I got off of work at 10 AM and kept it up until I finally had to crash sometime in the evening, after we'd gotten back from Downtown.

The Bog People exhibit was stylish and foreboding. Indeed, as if to underscore the parental warning at the onset of the collection, a small child was crying as his parents led him through the darkened maze, with ominous music playing through speakers as we followed the history of the first objects buried in the bogs of Northern Europe during the Dark Ages.

Corpses mummified by the bog peat, perfectly preserved except for the telltale signs of foul play and/or ritual sacrifice; weapons, tools, gifts and offerings; fabrics and clothing that survived the passage of time...

All things must pass, it is written.

Very morbid stuff, very fascinating.

Of course, industrialization has all but shut down any investigative archaeological research in the European bogs, so none of the findings were very recent. And the items on display weren't as impressive as the ones in, say, the British museum (according to Laurie and Daniel, who've both seen the Tollund Man exhibit in person over there) but I enjoyed the whole angle with which the show was presented.

You start off in the dark, with sinister overtones and strange music, like an X-Files episode come to life. Then, as you travel chronologically, things start to make more sense, and the lighting becomes less oppressive. Finally, you reach the end, where all the questions are answered and the exhibit viewer is "enlightened" by the rigid logic of science and reason.

They even had a take-off of CSI at the end, where the museum patrons were allowed to conduct their own forensic studies on some of the bog artifacts. This made Daniel and I laugh, because earlier on in the exhibit we joked about the possibility of setting a CSI-style show around these bog relics.

Afterwards, we checked out the other wings of the museum, using a Walkman-like device equipped with headphones that we rented for $3. Whenever you entered a certain wing, a laser would activate a music selection to accompany you as you browsed through the collections. The museum called it Sonic Scenery, and among some of the artists who contributed music to the project were the Sun Ra Arkestra, David J (from Bauhaus and Love and Rockets), Autolux, Nels Cline (who, I discovered, joined the band Wilco recently) and Ozomatli.

We got home late, thanks to merciless L.A. traffic, but we ate pizza and drank beer at Laurie and Daniel's place. I ended up napping for an unspecified amount of time before Eve woke me up and asked me kindly to take her home.

I slept like a Bog Baby.


*/*


I still have one more gift to give to Eve, but I have been waiting to get paid again before purchasing it. I kind of went overboard this year getting presents for Eve, but I am trying to make up for years of birthdays where I would call her and leave a message... only to discover later that she never received the message, thanks to Dick intercepting and deleting it.

When I dropped her off yesterday, she made a comment to me that, at first, irritated me. I called her "sweetheart" as I pulled up to her apartment, and she said:

"Stop calling me 'sweetheart'-- it's freaking me out."

Then she gave me a kiss and stepped out of my car.

As I drove away, I realized that she isn't against terms of endearment per se. Rather, it's the agenda behind such sentiments. My calling her 'sweetheart' or 'baby' or 'darling' really has no bearing on what we mean to each other.

I must admit, if she started calling me 'honey' or 'dearest' I think I might look at her like she was daft.

Words like that don't even come close to the truth of the matter. We have a psychic bond of sorts, and in fact earlier in the day she encouraged me to keep my mind open and receptive to her telepathic messages. She insists that I often have too many thoughts running through my brain, and I miss out on the invisible, inaudible hints she is giving me.

I agree with this. Whenever I think about her, she calls me up or makes her presence felt. She knows what's in my heart, and I think she freaks out when I act like we are merely two people dating.

It's more than that. Way more.

You see, the kisses and the pet names and the hand-holding and the lovemaking... all that stuff falls to the wayside eventually. But the spirit we share, and the mental connection we both possess... that stuff never dies.

It is eternal. Immortal, perhaps.

All things must pass, yes, but some things take forever before they come to their ultimate demise. But then again, if you believe that things come in cycles, there is always the infinite possibility of something manifesting itself again and again, in different forms, continuing on into endless perpetuity.

Whatever this is that she and I have, it will take more than mere circumstance to kill it. This I believe to be true.

asleep

Her birthday is tomorrow.

She will turn 29 on the 29th, with a solar eclipse and a new moon in the sky.

Out of those 29 years, I've known her for 14.

Half of her life.

This is an oil pastel drawing of me sleeping. She drew it from memory one morning, while waiting to volunteer for a friend's dentist exam.

I don't know what she sees in a guy like me, but it is silly to question it. This wonderful drawing gives me a clue.

It looks like me. It feels like me. It is me.

It is what she sees in me, and I like what she sees.

I have never loved another so deeply, so madly, so completely.

I saw her today, for a short while. We kissed as the gentle rain cascaded down upon her large black umbrella. I looked into her eyes and recognized the flicker, the glowing light that shines from behind her hazel-hued pupils...

She is my lover. She is my best friend. She is a female version of me. I am a male version of her. We are each other. We are together.

We will never be apart, ever again.

hillary machiavelli

Do a Google image search of 'Hillary Clinton'. You'll notice that, on the first page alone, there are just as many debased images of Hillary as there are flattering pics.

Photoshop jobs, political cartoons, or just straight-away hateful contempt for this woman know no bounds. I believe that she is hated by the Right ten times more than George W. Bush is hated by the Left.

But all that means is that the GOP is terrified of her. And why? Is it because she is a woman? A Democrat? A Clinton?

No. It's because Hillary Rodham Clinton is one determined bitch.

And nothing will stop her if she decides to go for the gold in 2008.

Nothing.


*/*


The reason why HRC is so feared by the political Right is because her spin ability is superior to that of 100 Karl Roves. And what's more-- she doesn't need her own Karl Rove to enable this spin.

King Georgie is woefully dependent on his aides and staff to stack the deck in his favor. Hillary needs no one else to achieve the same goals.

Having her husband on her side certainly helps. Bill is still immensely popular with American voters. Bush may have a stranglehold right now, but Slick Willie didn't need to steal elections in order to win the Presidency.

Instead, the Clintons know the power of language, and how to apply it. They are masterful debaters.

But if you thought Bill was the Teflon Prez, wait until Hillary takes the crown in two years' time... that is, if she opts to run.

And I think she will.


*/*


Let me give you some examples.

At the height of the Clinton impeachment, Hillary stated (on the Today show, I believe) that her husband was the victim of a "vast right-wing conspiracy".

A statement like this should instantly paint Hillary as a nutjob, no? Who uses the term "vast right-wing conspiracy" anyway?

Well, it was too much for neo-cons to resist. Immediately, the likes of Rush Limbaugh and other fascist scum were buying into her statement, if only in order to spite her. I distinctly remember a conservative friend of mine who bought a coffee mug that said "Member Of The Vast Right-Wing Conspiracy" on the side of it.

Seemed funny at the time, especially when the the GOP thought they had Clinton on the ropes.

Fast forward to this past weekend, when K.T. McFarland, Hillary's GOP Senate Race rival, made a comment that got played up in the tabloid New York Post.

McFarland accused Hillary of spying on her, while giving a speech in Suffolk County. This made the tabloids, and now McFarland is known as "Kooky K.T." around NYC.

The Clinton camp's statement regarding this? "We at the Hillary campaign wish Ms. McFarland the best and hope she gets the rest she needs... Some campaigns hand out campaign buttons; the McFarland campaign hands out tinfoil hats with antennas..."

Cold-blooded. Karl Rove is an amateur compared to this. The late Lee Atwater (Rove's mentor) would've been proud. James Carville is probably creaming himself as we speak.

This woman is going to win the Presidency in 2008.


*/*


Example #2: Jeanine Pirro's meltdown on live TV during the last Senate Race.

I remember seeing the footage of her infamous speech on a lefty website. According to a Village Voice account:

"She looked down at her notes. She then paused, mid-sentence, and said nothing. She shuffled through her notes, as second passed. Reporters shifted in their seats. Photographers flashed their cameras. Then in a muffled voice, Pirro asked her staffers, 'Do you have page 10?' The missing page of her speech, it turned out, had been left in another room and was quickly retrieved by an aide..."

Hey, if Howard Dean's run for the Presidency can be undone by a single scream, imagine what misplacing your speech notes can do for you!

I was suspicious enough to wonder if one of Hillary's people infiltrated Pirro's campaign and sabotaged the speech shortly before she was to deliver it. I thought that was pretty paranoid, even for me, but now that I've read about "Kooky" McFarland's comment, I think maybe my problem is that I wasn't paranoid enough!

But that speech gaffe was nothing compared to the assault Hillary waged upon Pirro's private life and career record. And Hillary is amassing, as we speak, a formidable war chest, one that puts any GOP contender to shame.

I've already had some friends of mine tell me, "Nah, it ain't gonna happen." These were the same people who told me that, according to polls in 2004, John Kerry didn't have a chance during the primaries, even though he was a fellow Skull & Bones member and had every intention of laying down so Bush could steal another election.

Hillary isn't Skull & Bones, so whoever goes after her in a Prez bid better be, or else they have NO CHANCE!


*/*


In my last post, I mentioned that an issue was made about Hillary supposedly quoting from the Bible in recent press conferences, and how her foes tried to paint her as being opportunistic.

Those accusations were rescinded, however, when press outlets started looking up quotes from Mrs. Clinton from the past... and found that she has indeed been very vocal about her religious convictions, as far back as 1993.

Hillary has her enemies so wound up that they will resort to anything to discredit her. But if they haven't found anything to use against her by now, I doubt they ever will have anything.

Part of what makes Hillary such a Machiavellian genius is that she elicits strong opinions from people, but she also knows exactly what she has said and where she said it, and how to parry anyone's objections by using language.

She knew it would piss off GOPers to exploit the Bible at a political stump, but she did so knowingly-- she knew that the first thing her detractors would say was that she was insincere.

And now that they've had to eat their words, they realize they have to be more careful when attacking former First Lady Hillary Rodham Clinton.


*/*


I say all this not because I want her to win. In fact, I hope she doesn't run, because I have no doubt that she will win... and she will further the same agenda that her husband and the Bushes (Sr. and Jr.) have backed up for some time now.

I stopped voting Democrat in 1996, when I knew that Bill Clinton was just one of the good ol' boys. I got scolded for throwing away my vote (for fear that Bob Dole would win-- yeah, right!) but no one listened to my reasons for voting Green that year and the year after that.

I don't expect anyone to listen to me this year. So all I will say is: be careful what you ask for, because you just might get it.

Hillary's gonna win-- mark my words. And Democrats will have their comeuppance, and they will feel good, and they will give it back to their opponents in spades.

But after the celebration is over, keep your eyes on that woman. She knows exactly what she is doing, and she will stop at nothing to achieve her goals.

In terms of personal success, she is a great example of what a woman can strive for in this day and age. Too bad that she will turn it all over to the vested corporate interests that are helping her win.

Consider yourself warned.

btw: I'm voting Independent in 2008.

hooked on face recog

My Heritage.com is my new favorite time-waster online.

I uploaded this photo of Hillary Clinton and received the following results:

Hillary Rodham Clinton 100% (duh)
Lucille Ball 59%
Susan Sarandon 57%
Calista Flockhart 56%
Mena Suvari 56%
Cameron Diaz 55%
Alyson Hannigan 55%
Julia Roberts 52%
Jennifer Jason Leigh 52%
Zsa Zsa Gabor 52%

(NOTE: I've supplied each photo with a link to the actual photo that was accessed within My Heritage's database, to illustrate how two completely different-looking people can be lumped together via the algorithms in the Face Recog program)

Hmmm, I don't think Hillary would be too pleased about the inclusion of Susan Sarandon, given her recent comments about the former First Lady.

But then again, who would have thought that Hillary would refer to "the Scriptures" as she did in recent press junkets? I'll tell you who: None other than Hillary herself! As far back as 1993, she's made comments about her faith and the Bible but never gets any decent coverage over it.

On another note... I see that Mena Suvari and Calista Flockhart made this list... they also made Eve's list... and I must admit, back when the Clintons were in the White House, I publicly stated that I thought Hillary was pretty good-looking "for a First Lady"... I mean, I was drunk at the time, and talking smack, but I stand by it. Hillary, for her age and demeanor, isn't really an eyesore.

I'd do her.

She has good hair and wardrobe people. I won't even bother posting a picture of her pre-White House days... God, who needs to undergo THAT torture?

Anyway, I'm thinking that once again there is something hard-wired inside of me that responds to certain types of women's facial features. I also wondered if maybe Eve will look like Hillary when she gets older.

Oooh, I'd better drop this line of blogging... I could get into serious trouble here. No more references to what women will look like when they're older!

freud

What is it about Sigmund Freud that pisses people off so much?

You always hear about how he was wrong, that his theories were eventually debunked. Meanwhile, his critics and detractors make lots of money off of fields of study that, before Freud, were about as interesting as reading technical manuals.

Women seem to hate Freud for suggesting, among other things, that they desire to emulate men, specifically in the genital area. They scoff at this notion, even as they don their pantsuits and ape the worst characteristics of men in order to stake a claim in the modern workplace.

Freud is seen by the psychoanalytic community that thrives because of his influence as an outmoded thinker. Instead, people gravitate to the likes of Carl Jung or R. D, Laing, both of whom owe an incredible debt to Freud for opening the door to further analysis of the human mind.

I think that people just didn't like Freud, as a person. He must have inspired some sort of mistrust in people. He rubbed people the wrong way, perhaps. Maybe he resembled a bad uncle or an authoritarian teacher for hordes of people who were hostile to his work.

I don't think Freud intended his work to be the end-all be-all for psychiatry and the exploration of human consciousness. I think he knew it was merely the beginning, the opening volley, the first salvo fired on the battlefield of the modern psyche.

I like Freud, for his theories had some sort of weird correlation with Albert Einstein's theories on space and time; I also like Freud because the Surrealists took their cues from his works.

I don't think he was 100% correct, but I do think he was on the right path.


*/*


A few things I've noticed from having run various photos of myself and others through the My Heritage Face Recognition demo:


1. Different pics produce different results. I haven't tried to run the same photo twice, but since the MH database is constantly being added to, I suspect that results vary even with the same photo.

2. Sometimes a face just doesn't have a match. My drummer and singer's respective faces didn't produce any matches, but maybe different photos would make a difference. The MH database needs to be expanded, once again.

3. There's some intriguing patterns emerging. Certain photos come up in almost every test. Two examples: Missy Elliott and Helena Bonham Carter. Now, the percentages given with these examples are very low (in the 50s) but still... it's disconcerting to know that I come up with more feminine matches than masculine ones. Also: lots of Asians and West Indians make it into my results!

4. One match, the Bollywood actress Preity Zinta, came up in tests that I ran for both myself and Eve. When I told her about this, she laughed and suggested that next Halloween we swap identities for our costumes: I will dress as her and she will dress as me. I said I was down to do that.

5. So far, only one celebrity photo that came up in a test also happened to be the face of a star that I have been told I resemble in the past: Christian Slater.

6. The angle of your face within the frame plays a big role in your results, as well as lighting and objects such as cigarettes or sunglasses. This tool is perfect for Photoshop users who want to find similar comparison photos to use for projects.


I haven't gotten sick of it yet. I am passing it along to anyone who wants to try it. And what's more-- I can't remember how I found the site, whether it was through a forwarded e-mail link or through my own accidental stumblings.


*/*


Here are the results of a second MH test I did on a different photo of Eve:

Mena Suvari 73%
Mischa Barton 73%
Audrey Tatou 72%
Shania Twain 72%
Marcia Cross 72%
Joan Fontaine 71%
Halle Berry 71%
Calista Flockhart 71%
Rachel Leigh Cook 71%
Kristin Davis 70%


I posted these results because, as I ran through them , it got me thinking about attractive types.

You see, every single girl listed above has been the object (at one time or another) of a celebrity crush for me. Seriously. The only one not on the list was Angelina Jolie.

Yes, even Joan Fontaine. Eve and I watched Rebecca not too long ago and I marveled at how beautiful she was in that movie.

This makes me wonder if I really do have a type after all. Friends have noted my affinity for blondes, but more than half of the women above are brunettes; the others are fair-haired or blonde, and one of them is a redhead.

The My Heritage Face Recognition Test is merely a program that uses algorithms to find your face in the photos of famous people, much like all those wacky quizzes I post on this blog every now and then. A score above 80% means that there is a good match between photos.

Eve used to get comparisons to Calista Flockhart all the time, and I definitely see the resemblance to Mischa Barton. But now I am wondering if I am somehow hard-wired to respond to women who share Eve's facial characteristics: the sculpted cheekbones, the broad and warm smile, the wide eyes and delicate skin...

Plus, the fact that she and I both scored Preity Zinta on a previous MH test makes me wonder how many of the women I find attractive resemble myself. After all, I keep coming up with women in my own personal MH results!

Talk about the ultimate in narcissism...

I'll post more about further results in the near future!

resemblance

According to this link, the top 10 famous people/celebrities/historical figures I most resemble are:


Ichiro Suzuki 64%
Tony Leung Chiu 62%
Preity Zinta 60%
Federico Garcia Lorca 56%
Ricki Lake 52%
Sarah Silverman 51%
Missy Elliott 51%
Italo Calvino 51%
Leon Lai 48%
Wladyslaw Szpilman 48%

(I don't have the time to find pics of all these people, but if you Google their names I'm sure you'll find something to compare with my results...)

Granted, the picture I used wasn't my finest moment, but I find it interesting that I mostly resemble either women or Asians. It could explain what women see in me, that's for sure.

The downside to this link is that you have to join as a "member", but it's a formality, really...

spring is here

How You Are In Love

You fall in love quickly and easily. And very often. You give and take equally in relationships. You tend to get very attached when you're with someone. You want to see your love all the time. You're secretly hoping your partner will change for you. You stay in love for a long time, even if you aren't loved back. When you fall, you fall hard.

How Are You In Love?

magic

I woke up feeling devilish this morning, oddly in sync with my surroundings. The phenomenon I sometimes refer to as 'serendipity' seemed to be taking place in small but concrete ways.

I could do no wrong: traffic lights turned green for me for long stretches of road, no real traffic to speak of, and I felt well-rested despite getting only five hours of sleep. Plus, it's payday.

I think I must have been extra tired yesterday, having run out of gas as I exited the freeway on the way to band practice.

That was the catalyst (I think) for this serendipitous feeling, so I guess I went to sleep last night at the onset of this phenomenon and woke up fully immersed in it. When the car started to buck and shake, I was able to get from the far left lane all the way over across four more lanes to get to the far right lane and exit before totally depleting my fuel supply.

I pulled over to the side and put on my emergency hazard lights. Then, I automatically walked to the rear of the car and opened the trunk, removing the gas can. I walked half a block to a gas station and pumped a gallon into the tank. Then I walked back, filled up the car, started it, and drove over to the station to get more gas.

Yes, I got gasoline all over my hands, and I knew I should've refueled before getting on the freeway-- I thought I had enough to make it home. But the whole episode took about twenty minutes to resolve, and I wasn't upset at all. In fact, I handled it as if it were a normal occurrence.

I felt prepared. And I was: I'd bought that gas tank about a year ago, when I first got the car. I was testing out the empty fuel light, seeing how low it would dip before running out. That time, I didn't have a gas tank, so when I walked two blocks to the nearest gas station I ended up buying one in case I ever needed it again.

That was a good move on my part. And running out just as I had managed to coast onto the off-ramp last night was simply sublime. There's nothing like being able to handle an adverse situation to make you feel cool.

I made it to rehearsal 15 minutes late, but the drummer was late so I didn't really miss a beat... pardon the pun.

Rehearsal was good, as good as good can get at this point. The Wolf Man, our drummer, is always on the fence about whether he wants to play with us or not. He has "image issues"-- he doesn't think the band is cool enough to go to the next level, and he's right. But I think the guys are nice people to jam with and play shows with-- I'm not looking for fame or success with this band.

Wolfie's younger, he wants to do more than just play drums for other people, and I'm cool with it-- it's not my band, after all. What has kept him around are the shows, playing in front of an audience, receiving N for his own personal supply stash, the same stash anyone who is an entertainer craves.

The other guys in the band are disappointed but not hurt. They'll live, and they'll find another drummer after our last show with Mr. Wolf. I'm confident of that.

Then there's the other band, whom I jam with tonight. They were kicking around ideas for cover songs and The Kinks' "I'm Not Like Everybody Else" came up. I thought it was a great idea, and we all agreed to learn it before tonight.

Well, a few days ago I was at Paulie's house and an ad for IBM came on the TV. The music in the ad was the same Kinks song we were going to cover! My jaw dropped in amazment-- this is not the first time a band of mine had decided on a cover, only to be upstaged by highly visible media outlets, whether it be a band or a commercial.

What's amazing is that the song is pretty obscure. They didn't use "You Really Got Me" or "All Day & All Of The Night" or even "Waterloo Sunset"... they used a rare single that didn't surface on the full-length albums until much later. Hell, only the singer and I had actually heard it before.

I'm in tune with the universe.


*/*


I think that the time is nearing for me to start assembling my own musical project, where I am the leader. Megalomaniacal? No, not really. I still like playing with others, contributing to their causes. I know they value my talents, but I have a lot of ideas and I want to implement them. And I'm going to need players to do it. They don't have to be sickeningly tight-- in fact, I would prefer novices. That way, I could imprint my songs upon them as they learn the material.

I've known for a long time that it takes a dictatorial touch to get bands motivated and devoted to the purpose of playing together. One person often ends up being the taskmaster, usually because no one else is interested in taking the responsibility.

Then there are the bands where one person tries desperately to wrangle control under the guise of a democracy. Those end up being the result of petty ego trips and more than likely cause friction instead of creative energy.

Finally, there's the kinds of bands where everybody is independent, and come together as equals for the final product. Those bands are very rare.

I've been the "faithful bass player" for so long, and not out of deference. Believe me, an egotist such as myself is always at the ready with my own song ideas and spotlight moments. But I know what a pain in the ass it is to try and get musicians to commit to a band, and luckily in my life I've either shared the responsibility with someone else or didn't care to possess it.

Now, I want to call the shots, with my own band, playing songs I wrote, booking shows at places I want to play.

But will I actually motivate myself to do it? That's the big question for me.


*/*


And now for a little stream-of-consciousness:

I have only had faith in myself and yet I cannot give myself the credit for this, as if some spectral force has protected me from harm all of these long years, unbenownst to me, without any real comprehension on my part... even as I was mired in pain and wracked with doubt there was always a guiding hand at work, shielding me from the harsher elements of this wicked wicked world... some would say I'm lucky, or cursed, or jinxed... some would say there is a mark on my forehead, or that an aura shines bright from within me... that I've been set aside and designated for something else but I'm not quite sure what it is yet, so I'd best follow my nose and my gut and my instincts and follow and maybe even lead in fact I'd prefer to lead instead of beng led to be free instead of feeling dread to be able to see instead of being dead, and when I am with her I dream of the things we fled when our wings were spread and beneath the sea wept as we leapt so we could be ahead of everything chasing us hounding us down grounding us down surrounding us with sound pounding down thorny crowns upon our temples...

My mind is tender and gentle, rested and mended, just as I always pretended...

I'm sending out a mental transcript laced with traces of ancient Sanskrit.

thanks

I got the idea for today's post from an automated e-mail my older brother sent me. It was nothing more than Biblical scriptures, an "e-sermon" if you will.

My family is very religious but the only one who goes overboard is my father. He doesn't have an e-mail account, but if he did he'd probably be sending me millions of these things. His everyday waking life is one long sermon. When I was a kid I really thought my dad was a pastor at a church-- that's how often he sits down to read and study the Bible.

My mother and siblings are religious but they keep it to a minimum. They know that the best way to influence people is by modest example.

When my brother sent me this e-mail today, for some reason it resonated with me. Usually I read them, send a 'thank you' reply, and go on with my business. But since this was an automated e-mail, I cannot reply to it.

Rather than send him a brief e-mail saying "Thank you" like I always do, I think I'll put the e-mail's message into action.

Thanksgiving is the predesignated time of the year for people to reflect upon their blessings, but I don't think I've actually ever given thanks out of season. And after watching the Oscars earlier this month and ruminating in my head over the whole notion of thanking people when an actor or filmmaker wins an award, I figure things have been leading up to this for some time.

So, without further ado...


I give thanks for my health.

I give thanks for my family, who always have me in their prayers.

I give thanks to my mother for loving me and letting me be who I am.

I give thanks to my father for the knowledge and ethics he instilled in me as a child.

I give thanks to my older brother who introduced me to all the pastimes I hold dear in my life today: music, art, and poetry.

I give thanks to my sister and younger brothers, for holding me in the highest esteem and regard.

I give thanks to my stepfather, a decent hard-working man who acquired my respect long ago and still holds it today.

I give thanks to my niece and nephew, who remind me of the brilliance of youth and the eternal light that never goes out.

I give thanks to all of my friends, who make me laugh and give me strength and hope.

I give thanks to my best friend Eve, for caring about me and correcting me when I'm wrong, and for having the courage to tell me when I'm being an ass.

I give thanks to Purple Paulie, with whom I see eye-to-eye on most of our creative endeavors, and who looks out for me.

I give thanks to my boss Miguel, who gave me a job when I needed it most and has faith in my abilities, despite my constant blogging.

I give thanks to anyone who has ever read this blog and given me feedback or support.

I give thanks to the people whose blogs I read, for their perseverance and adherence to something that makes the world slightly more tolerable than it was before they started writing.

I give thanks to all the musicians, poets, writers, comics, artists and performers that I have ever met. They all taught me something, even if they didn't think they had the skills to create anything.

I give thanks to anyone who has ever taken the grave risk of trusting in me.

I give thanks to this city, which has crushed the souls of people more deserving of accolades than me, for not casting me into despair; this city is far from perfect but I love it anyways-- and not for the reasons most people think.

I give thanks to the mysteries of creation, the universe, and life, for keeping me interested and fascinated constantly. Call it God or whatever you deem fit-- we were never meant to understand it; instead, we were meant to contemplate it and nothing more.

I am content to not know the answers, because as the late Douglas Adams illustrated in his Hitchhiker's Guide books, we don't even know the question yet... so why worry?

As a wise man was once quoted as saying:

"For this reason I say to you, do not be anxious for your life, as to what you shall eat, or what you shall drink; nor for your body, as to what you shall put on. Is not life more than food, and the body than clothing?

"Look at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they?

"And which of you by being anxious can add a single cubit to his life's span? And why are you anxious about clothing? Observe how the lilies of the field grow; they do not toil nor do they spin, yet I say to you that even Solomon in all his glory did not clothe himself like one of these...

"Therefore do not be anxious for tomorrow; for tomorrow will care for itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."


Thank you for allowing me to express this. Now have a nice day... or else.

beyond good vs. evil

Eve and I went to my parents' place for my stepfather's birthday. We ate seafood and noodles and fried shrimp and all sorts of goodness.

Before I left, I asked to borrow a DVD from my older brother that he urged me to see. It's called They Sold Their Souls For Rock And Roll. It is a Christian-based expose of Satan's influence on rock performers since the '50s.

I borrowed it for giggles. All of my life, being raised in a religious household, I've periodically had to come into contact with such materials. As a kid, I remember watching a special on TBN (the Trinity Broadcasting Network) about the "backmasking" of subliminal messages on heavy metal records. Ironically, I credit this special for getting me into rock music, and sound recording in particular.

After I got home, I popped it into the DVD player. The first five to ten minutes did not disappoint. The first scene involved some actors dressed in black, smoking cigars and drinking hard liquor while sitting in a dimly lit, smoky room. Apparently, the men (whose voices were digitally altered to make them sound evil) are demons, plotting ways to brainwash human beings into giving their souls to the Devil.

It was ridiculous enough to warrant my watching of the rest of the 3-hour presentation. But a funny thing happened as I began watching: I got into it.

You see, after the initial hysteria of the introduction, I found myself nodding my head and agreeing with the host's assessment of such artists as Robert Johnson, Jimmy Page, Ozzy Osbourne and Eminem. These artists have never shied away from controversy, and play into the alarmist Christian public's fears quite well, to maximum profit.

Likewise, the revelations about such artists like The Beatles, Elvis, Sting and Carlos Santana were interesting. As a conspiracy hobbyist, I find myself reading about the occult influence in popular culture often, and huge pop cultural icons such as the above-mentioned artists often find their names associated with conspiracy theories, mostly because they inspired cult-like devotional followings from adoring fans.

What was amazing was that the makers of this DVD (which is also available in a marathon 10-hour version) also managed to tie artists such as Madonna, Britney Spears, the Spice Girls and even Joni Mitchell in with the occult... and made decent arguments to boot!

Not that their arguments were based upon logic. With Christianity, the basis for disavowal of anything threatening to the faith is not rational-- it's simply a case of either/or reasoning. Most religions function this way, so it's not really fair to assail Christians for decrying a rapper like DMX for his violent imagery and allusions to witchcraft. Even though DMX is doing this in a tongue-in-cheek fashion, it makes sense that religious groups would have a problem with his lyrics-- DMX is dope but his music is not very conducive to spiritual self-discovery.

A lot of this hysteria comes from the mistaken notion that rock performers are the same offstage as they are onstage. I mean, I've heard of Christian groups protesting movies for their content, but they rarely ever boycott the actors themselves. That's because it is accepted that the actor is "acting". But why is it different with musicians?

The late, great Frank Zappa made a point of bringing up this discrepancy when he was fighting the PMRC in the late '80s. He reasoned that a ratings system could not be applied to rock musicians because the rating would stigmatize the artist rather than the content of the artist's oeuvre-- I think Zappa was concerned that his more ribald works would cause his serious, academic compositions to suffer through association.

And what about an artist like Eminem, who is self-aware and almost "in" on the joke? To attack Eminem because he writes lyrics that dwell on the irony of his influence on young minds is missing the point: Eminem is a parent himself, and understands the capacity that kids possess in relation to music. He also knows that the key to keeping kids from being "brainwashed" by pop cultural icons is to be involved with their lives to such a degree that the children are raised with critical thinking faculties and the ability to discern for themselves and make wise decisions.

I mean, I've been listening to evil rock and roll music for more than 20 years, and I've listened to gangsta rap since its infancy: I have yet to commit one single drive-by, spend one minute in jail or sacrifice a baby to Satan. And I probably never will, because I was raised to question the appearance of all things.

Not all of us musician-types are willing to trade our livelihoods for 15 minutes of fame.


*/*


Whether or not you believe in God or the Devil, one thing about the DVD was undeniably clear: some artists have advocated the heathen ethics of such occultic luminaries as Aleister Crowley and Church of Satan founder Anton La Vey. It was the hip thing to do for some time, and I doubt that someone like Mick Jagger or Robert Plant understood the full implications of their dabblings in withcraft.

The mere mention of Aleister Crowley sends Christians into a tizzy-- Marilyn Manson knew this and exploited it fully. But what I find humorous (or perhaps alarming) is that throughout the entire 3-hour DVD, as Crowley's name and visage was being bandied about on the screen, not one mention was made of the symbol of the All-Seeing Eye within the pyramid that he wore in one of his more famous photographs.

Not one mention of Crowley's involvement with British Intelligence agencies during WWII. There was one small mention of the two secret societies he belonged to, but nothing substantial.

What I'm getting at is this: the DVD documentary didn't go far enough.

All this fuss over Crowley's influence on rock stars in order to rush the New Age of Aquarius into existence during the '60s, and no mention of his influence on politics in America.

Our current President has ties with secret occultic societies, all the while masquerading as a pro-life, anti-gay Christian. His Vice President hangs out at the Bohemian Grove in Northern California, where it has been rumored for decades that world leaders retire to hunt human game (puts that recent Texas 'buckshot' story into perspective, doesn't it?)

I have a question: What's a right-wing politico like Dick Cheney doing hanging out at a place called Bohemian Grove' in the first place? You'd think that a man who has devoted his life and career to persecuting ideals that can conceivably seen as 'bohemian' would WINCE at the idea of taking a vacation at a grove with the word 'bohemian' in its title...

Anyway, back to my point: The DVD asked Christians to re-examine the music that their kids are listening to, stating that there is more than meets the eye. I say to Christians that they should re-examine their loyalties to a man whose family connections clearly demonstrate that they will say or do anything in order to be in power.

Did you know that George Herbert Walker Bush was a pro-choice politician before he was handpicked to be Ronald Reagan's VP? When he didn't get the nomination in 1980 (after attacking Reagan's budget plans as "voodoo economics") he did the next best thing-- he toed the line in order to get close to the Presidency. It can be argued that Bush Sr. has served four terms: one on his own merits, two by proxy via Reagan, and one by proxy via his son.

He'd been planning on doing this with Dan Quayle, but Quayle proved to be so stupid that even the average American could see it. George W. Bush is George H.W. Bush's Plan B, and it has been working rather well.

Dig this: In 2000 and 2004 George W. Bush supported the Republican Party platform which stated that abortion in ANY sense was wrong, even for cases of rape and incest. I found that odd, considering that Poppy Bush conceded as much in the 1988 debates against Michael Dukakis. However, he has contradicted the party platform several times since, most notably while being questioned by John McCain in 2000.

But now that South Dakota has banned ALL forms of abortion, our President is now stating unequivocally that, in cases of rape and incest, abortion should be allowed.

Meanwhile, the big fear that Lefties had about Bush Jr.-- that he was going to stack the Supreme Court with nominees that would overturn Roe v. Wade --has yet to materialize. Alito might be for overturning it, but Roberts so far as proven to be another David Souter, conservative on the surface but progressive underneath.

And we all know who appointed Souter to the High Court, don't we? Yes... it was George H.W. Bush.

Remember: South Dakota's decision is a state measure. If Bush scolds the state for banning ALL abortion, not only is he contradicting himself AGAIN but he is infringing upon state's rights. I thought conservatives were all for state's rights.

In light of these flip-flops, the mystifying (and now-defunct) Dubai Port deal makes a lot more sense.


*/*


So I guess the point of all of this comes down to my earlier statement, that a DVD like They Sold Their Souls To Rock And Roll doesn't go far enough.

It's not just rock and roll that is shaping malleable young minds. Politicians are doing quite a mindfuck on all sorts of well-meaning people right now.

And then there's religion itself.

I don't go to church because I feel the hypocrisy all around me. I don't worship Anglo-Saxon images of Christ because they are false representations of what Christ looked like. I don't even believe that Jesus was his name-- most likely it was a variation on "Yeshua", and the term "Christ" is a title, not a surname.

The only thing I prefer to do is read the Bible itself. You can't go wrong reading the actual words of the prophets. However, there are many editions of the Bible that obscure the true meaning of the words. Many times, scholastic theological commentary acts like propaganda, leading believers down a primrose path that directs their thoughts to the proper "issues" of the Church... like abortion, for example.

The Bible makes no specific mention of abortion. So why is the church so against it? Because the Pat Roberstons and Jimmy Swaggarts of the world say so. These men are the modern Pharisees, and Christ is quoted as saying to not trust the self-righteous hypocrites who masquerade as men of God.

Going back to the idea of Satan's influence for a second: Did you know that there are exactly TWO references to Satan in the Old Testament? I'm not talking about "the Devil" or "Lucifer"-- those are separate entities. No, Satan is mentioned twice by name in the Old Testament, and although his name (taken from the Hebrew word ha satan) translates as "the accuser" or "the opponent", this does not automatically mean that he was an evil being. Rather, Satan worked for the God of the Old Testament as a prosecuting attorney of sorts-- he was never opposed to God, but rather acted on behalf of God... as a "devil's advocate".

The snake in the Garden of Eden myth is not Satan. It is a serpent, plain and simple (albeit a talking serpent). Bible scholars imply that the serpent is Satan, but when God curses the serpent for tempting Eve, he makes no mention of the snake being possessed by the Devil.

When Jesus Christ is tempted by the Devil in the book of Matthew, Jesus calls him "Satan" while the Bible states that Jesus was tempted by the Devil. Thus, it is Christ in the New Testament that first equates the name Satan with the evil notion of the Devil.

In other words, Satan being evil is a relatively new concept, historically speaking. The book of Job, which lists the first appearance of Satan by that name, is the oldest book in the Bible, predating Genesis... so why isn't the Book of Job the first book of the Bible? And why isn't more attention called to the fact that, in the days before the New Testamant and the Gospels, the concept of Good vs. Evil isn't so prevalent?

This is why I read the Bible but reject the trappings of the modern Church: like politics and like popular culture, it is all based upon distortions of the truth.

I prefer to seek truth. I apologize, however, if it gets boring for you, the reader. Maybe one day I'll figure out how to abbreviate my thoughts... or perhaps I'll start my own church...

What do you think about that?

thank god for youtube.com

You're going to need Quicktime, I think, to watch this.

And, you're going to need speakers to hear it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZhzW8ULhV0Y&search=john%20lennon

If it skips or stops playing, click on the PAUSE button and let the buffer run for a few minutes. The buffer is the grey line that fills out beneath the screen; the actual clip file is the black line that fills in the grey line.

Got it?

bells and whistles

In case none of you knew, Eve found my blog a while back.

She was reading it and even made some comments on a few posts. But she decided not to read it anymore. It's hard to read about yourself, especially if it is a fictionalized version of yourself, written by someone other than yourself.

As I writer I am always curious as to how I would come off in someone else's fiction. But the fact is, no one ever writes about me. And if they do, I very seldom read the results.

Maybe that's why I write-- maybe I'm hoping that someone else will cast me in their novel or short story.


*/*


The few times that someone has written about me validate my narcissism. They fed my N-supply.

I've had girlfriends who wrote poems about me. I was always flattered to be the subject of someone's word canvas, but it always left me craving for more. My insatiable ego demands that the accolades be piled high.

Even if the poem was supposed to paint me in a negative light, I still wanted to hear more. I didn't care, as long as it was about me.

But I know me very well, and if any of those poems had touched upon the Actual Truth Of The Matter (that is, a truth that both the writer and myself shared) then I would panic and begin re-assessing myself... because I would recognize myself in the poem and would instantly want to change.

I think that's about it when it comes to being the subject of someone else's art. I approach it as a funhouse mirror, distorting my features randomly.

Being written about is not the same as having your portrait painted, or posing for a photograph, or even someone writing a song about you. Being written about is akin to being studied, and I guess I like studying other people... so I write about them.

But some people don't like being scrutinized in such a way, because all their life they've had to deal with watching, prying eyes.


*/*


I think I am always disappointed by what other people write about me, if they do at all. It would be easy to simply do their work for them, but even my enormous ego won't allow me to do that. I cannot write about myself any more than I can honestly ask myself tough questions.

I've tried, but it never works. I always make myself out to be the hero, the man with the plan, the good guy. Either that or I am the lovable scoundrel, the flawed hero in search of balance and redemption.

In my writing, I make myself look good.

That's not really writing, though. That's back-patting.

That's self-congratulation.

That's bullshit.


*/*


What makes me so special anyway? Why should the events of my life be any more entertaining than the events of someone else's life?

Why don't I try to write about something other than myself?

I'll tell you why: because no matter who I try to write about, it always comes back to me.

I am selfish like that. I am aware of this, and I try to balance it out with some selfless gestures... but it's still rooted in my sense of self.

I'm trapped.

How do I set myself free?


*/*


Right now, I am going to write about myself in a way that I've never done before.

I'm going to be honest and straightforward... no bells and whistles.

Think I can do it?

Okay...

I get jealous a lot of times, and because I think it's a terrible way to spend my time, I often bite my tongue.

I get jealous of how many years Eve spent with Dick. I get jealous of the reasons why she stayed with him-- his physical prowess, his willingness to be molded, the adventures they went on together...

It's all in the past, yes, and it has no bearing on me... but it gets into my head and I hate myself for allowing it to settle there.

It helps me to understand why he didn't like me, even though he doesn't know me. Eve told me once that she accidentally called him by my name. I laughed, but now that I think about it, something like that would totally flip me out. If I were in his shoes, I think I would've been furious.

I'm not as open-minded as I like to believe.

I am manipulative in the worst way-- without knowing it. My mind is constantly calculating and making plans. Then, when things go off-script, I get upset and blame the chaos of the world around me.

I do this because I am afraid of losing control. Everything I do in my life is an attempt to gain control of something. Anything I cannot control either turns into an obsession or a dismissal.

I get jealous of men that Eve has no realistic interest in. I never tell her these things because it would reveal me to be something less than what I promote myself as, and it makes me feel vulnerable.

Even though I know she would not cross those lines, it still terrifies me.

And what's more, I am afraid to tell her these things because I fear she will use them against me somehow.

I get angry when she doesn't want to be with me, but I also get angry when she wants to be with me after I've made other plans. It makes me feel like she changed her mind arbitrarily, and only after I accepted the situation for what it was.

In other words, I feel like she tests me: telling me she has plans, hoping that I'll give in and pout, then if I don't she ditches her plans which causes me to ditch mine.

Or, I feel like I am too obvious when I am disappointed. I try to be cool and accepting but my body language gives me away, and she feels guilty. And I'm not consciously trying to make her feel guilty, but my body language suggests something else.

I feel torn between wanting her to be her own person and not wanting her to stray too far from me.

I hold back whenever I'm around her. I always want to tell her that I think she is beautiful, and that I love her, and that I am happy around her. But I fear that it will drive her away, and so I keep my mouth shut. I often put my foot in my mouth, and I've learned that it's better not to say anything at all than to spoil it with words that don't convince her of anything.

Laurie, mine and Eve's good friend, once told me that I am stronger than Eve emotionally, and that I would have to be patient with Eve if I wanted to be with her. But now I am doubting my strength, and I wonder if I am the one who needs to be shown some patience.

I don't want to live my life while looking in a mirror either.


*/*


I have to admit, I feel a little better.

Not much better, but a little bit better.

What I just wrote doesn't belong on a blog, though-- it belongs in a private notebook, the way I used to do it.

Yes, it needs to be written and expressed, but for my own eyes, not others. I did it today because I wanted to see if I could.

Did I succeed, or did I delude myself?

We'll just have to wait and see, won't we?

If anything, these thoughts shouldn't even be written down-- instead they should be said to Eve, to her face.

I know there's a possibility that she could read this blog, even though she said she wouldn't. And a part of me is cravenly hoping that this is how she finds out about it.

How sad is it that I am more afraid of telling her my darkest fears in person than I am of sharing them with the world at large?

But you see, I cannot see your reaction in Hong Kong or Indiana or Canada or wherever else this blog is read. You might post a comment, but it isn't the same as doing it in the flesh.

I know that sometimes I can only write what I feel because my heart doesn't allow me to articulate it any other way. I'm dysfunctional like that. I think of John Lennon's lyric is the song "Julia": When I cannot sing my heart, I can only speak my mind...

Well, for me, it goes like this: When I cannot speak my mind, I can only write my heart...

And I'm sorry it has to be like that.

"netbanging"

Anyone hear about this? Apparently, gangs are online now.

I don't have a link, but suffice it to say if you Google the word you'll find comments from people on blogs and in message boards, either for or against netbanging.

I suppose this should disgust me, but I saw it coming a long time ago. I even had an idea for a screenplay about a straight-A minority student who gets a scholarship to college, only to end up starting a gang on campus. It was supposed to play like a comedy-- Animal House meets Boyz N Da Hood.

This could be the end of cyberspace as we know it-- right now, anyone can stake a claim, like prospectors during the Gold Rush. But now that gangs are establishing virtual turfs, you can expect to see some new legislation concerning intellectual property rights on the Web and other small laws that will eventually make cyberspace akin to real estate.

Netbanging-- oh my, how does this shit get started? What kind of nerd wanted to be in a gang so badly that he showed the thugs in his neighborhood how to do drive-by site flames and hack into enemy servers?

It will give new meaning to the word 'tag', that's for sure. Online G's won't know if they're writing HTML code or writing their name.

Life is getting more absurd by the day. What else can one say when Three 6 Mafia wins an Oscar-- whether you like rap or not, Three 6 Mafia is somethin' else. I'm sure most people see it as a sign of the apocalypse, but if you ask me the Oscars is the one party where things REALLY need to get crunk.

I used to hate Three 6, as well as Project Pat and Petey Pablo and Lil Jon and all those Southern crunksters. My homie Down Low used to play this stuff for me and I developed a taste for it.

It was one thing to see the song nominated and performed on the show, but when it actually won I almost shit my Pampers.

And to anyone who feels that this was some sort of travesty, I ask you this: if South Park: Bigger Longer & Uncut had won an Oscar the year "Blame Canada" was nominated, would THAT have been just as bad? Or would it have been okay because Trey Parker and Matt Stone are white?

btw: I thought Jon Stewart was fucking hilarious as the host. And I wasn't surprised that Crash won for Best Picture. It was a good movie. Not great, not average... Good. Competent. Nice.

Truthful? Not very. Realistic? No, but then again we're talking about movies. Entertaining? Yes. Well made? Indeed. Praiseworthy? I don't know.

Reese Witherspoon winning for Walk The Line was cool. I saw the movie over the weekend and was spellbound by her performance. Joaquin Phoenix was better than I expected-- I'm a big Johnny Cash fan, and I am very critical when it comes to actors playing musicians. I didn't think Joaquin had it in him, but he convinced me that he did.

Too bad he had to go up against Phillip Seymour Hoffman, who deserved that Oscar 100%. Who knows if Hoffman would have ever received an nomination for a Lead Role again? This award ensures that one of America's greatest character actors can now find work on a scale proportionate to his talent. Even though he didn't win, at least Joaquin doesn't have a problem finding movies where he can play the lead-- he's young, good-looking, and talented. Hoffman is sort-of young, mediocre-looking, and talented: possessing an Oscar now puts him in the running with Tom Hanks and Kevin Spacey.

All the hype over Brokeback Mountain may have killed its prospects. I haven't seen it, but I will someday, and I'm sure it is excellent-- but Crash was the movie that exemplified this year's choices. The movies nominated this year were "important" (whether they actually are or not remains debatable) and stirred up conversations that provoked people to think.

Granted, Crash mainly stirred up discussion over whether the movie actually deserved such "important" status, but at least it was controversial, right?

Like I said, life is getting more absurd by the day. What's next? I can't possibly imagine...

i'm grouchy today

Click here to read what I was doing around this time last year.

I have some interesting thoughts today, but they'd be wasted on this blog.

Have a nice weekend.

lives

When I write, many times I am chronicling the things that I wished I'd said, or the feelings I wished I'd expressed.

I guess I use it as a valve for the emotions I repress in my waking life.

If I am angry, I write it out. If I am jealous, I write it out. If I am in love, I write it out.

Why can't I just feel it out? It would be easier, right?

I feel like I live in three worlds: the real world (waking life), the dream world (sleeping life), and the world I have created through my writing (fantasy life).

Who knows which of these worlds is the one that contains the most truth? We assume that our waking lives are the true existences, but who's to say that they are?

The waking world did a number on me. It caused me to retreat into a shell that I created out of my own adolescent pain and angst, and even though I'm all grown-up and can manage my life without anyone's help, I am still stuck inside that shell, that hiding place where I used to go when things were bombarding me on the surface and I couldn't deal...

I am afraid to grow out of that shell because I fear that I will not have the same passion or fire to write.

I don't care if I am ever published or recognized as a writer... then why am I writing?

It's a coping mechanism.

I wish it wasn't so. I wish I could write objectively, and make money off of it. I wish it wasn't some emotional crutch for a person like me with an underdeveloped sense of self-esteem...

Am I truly free, writing like this?

unfinished biz

The political posts never get ANY comments.

And I've just read online that more Americans know The Simpsons and American Idol than they do the Bill of Rights and the Five Freedoms.

There's nothing wrong with knowing TV trivia-- hell, I don't even WATCH American Idol and I know who the fucking judges are... and of course, I know more about The Simpsons than I should.

But I also know the Bill of Rights and the Five Freedoms, as well as tons of other seemingly useless bits of information. I must confess, though, that I don't know the ENTIRE Constitution... just the parts that protect me as an individual.

Oh well... I guess I'll just start blogging about my lovelife again. That always gets comments and reactions.


*/*


Earlier this month, I went in to my insurance agent to pay my monthly balance. Alec, the son of the man who started this particular agency, greeted me with a smile.

"Hey, man. I heard from Monique."

"You did? How is she?"

"She's doing good. She's seeing some guy, working at the perfume place still."

"Oh, well... that's good." Alec and I had both thought she was doing badly, which we used to explain why she hadn't called or written either of us in months.

Alec was hoping she'd be back in Los Angeles to resume her duties with the insurance company. Alec's dad taught Monique everything she knew about insurance. I was hoping she'd come back in October of last year so that we could resume what we had started way back in May.

Along the way, a bunch of things happened: Eve and I started seeing each other again as more than friends, I broke off relations with some of my summer flings, others became platonic friends... and Monique stopped communicating to me from 3,000 miles away. The last I'd heard from her was on her birthday in September. I wrote her an e-mail telling her that she should not come back out here unless she was 100% sure of it.

I never knew until talking to Alec if she'd been dating, but just because she has a dude right now doesn't mean that she was seeing people the whole time she was back home. I'd talked to her on the phone in August, and she said that her younger brother (WAY younger-- he's barely five) was becoming attached to her. When she had come out to visit in May, he was terribly depressed, and it didn't stop until she returned.

Also, she expressed her disdain for Alec, who inherited the business from his father after the old man passed away. Monique loved working for his father but can barely tolerate Alec. Unless she could find a better-paying insurance gig out here, it wasn't worth it for her to come back.

So when I wrote her an e-mail telling her not to come back unless she was 100% sure, I pretty much knew that she wasn't coming back.

But I wondered if she knew that I was seeing other people while she was gone. I wondered if she had been seeing other people as well.

I also wondered what I would have done if she had returned after all.

I would've had to make a choice, I suppose. What would I have chosen?

It's easy to say "Oh, I would've gone with Eve" or "I definitely would've picked Monique" but the truth of the matter is that I don't know what I would've done.

In all probability, I would've left town and hid for a spell.


*/*


I am very happy with the way things are going with Eve. She is my best friend, and I care about her deeply. And I know she cares for me.

When I fell in with Monique, it was when Eve and I were trying to be friends, keeping our distance from each other. Monique caused me to re-examine everything, but eventually it all comes back to one thing: who knows me the best?

The answer: Eve knows me the best.

The night that I told Eve about Monique and my other summer dalliances, Monique was writing me an e-mail for the first time in months. I saw it the next day, which was the day after my birthday.

Monique's e-mail was simple:


What's new? Late Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. I haven't checked emails in forever. Going to see the movie Hostel tonight. I will give a jingle sometime soon...

M


That was it. No way of knowing if she was seeing anyone, no way of knowing ANYTHING really.

I sent her a reply that said a whole lot of nothing, and after I sent it I suddenly had a sharp realization. To be sure of it, I went into my e-mail account's history and found an e-mail exchange between us in July:


I read a few of your entries in your blog before I started for the archives to see if anything was mentioned about me. Just wanted to hear what you thought. No such luck though, you've deleted them. Guess I'll never know. I now have something that interests me to keep me busy in my spare time -reading your blogs. Ha! Hope this doesn't disturb you since I am a loser probing into the mind of James.


And I thought, Oh fuck! You idiot! She's read the blog...


*/*


It's hard for me to keep up with who has read my blog. I tell everybody about it, and then I forget about who is reading it. And somewhere down the line, I make a reference to someone or something that is familiar to many, and I offend someone.

What concerns me about Monique reading my blog is not that she may have "caught" me confessing my sins, but that she had to find out this way.

I wrote about what I could write about, and knew very well that any number of people could become upset if they ever found this blog. I don't regret or apologize for anything I write here. That's why I deleted my old Archives-- there was a lot of stuff there that I didn't want to own anymore.

But everything here is owned by me (unless it's some quiz or a quote from elsewhere) and I will not shirk from the responsibility that comes with writing these things.

My defense is not an artistic one. I think it's a cop-out to say, "Hey, they're just words" or "It was meant to be fiction"... No, instead I defend my blog based upon my emotions when I am writing them out.

These are the things that are on my mind, and at the time I think each and every one of them is worthy to be published.

You don't know how many posts I haven't published. Some of them went too far, or regressed back to my primitive blogging days.

Am I holding back when I refrain from publishing a post, or if I change names or distort events for narrative effect? No, I am simply trying to master this form of writing. For so many years I wrote only for myself, and yet I always wrote as if someone was going to read my works.

Well, maybe I'm not an established author read worldwide, but if blogging has taught me anything in the past four years, it's that I was mistaken about writing as if someone was going to read me-- you only really start writing for other eyes when you get it out there somehow. Pretending to write for audience while you are safe at home with no intentions of publishing it is not the same as clicking that "publish" icon and waiting to see who says what.

Over the summer, I made an effort to not detail every little bit of information about my life, mostly because I didn't want my own words to hang me later on. But after a while, I started to like the decrease in personal investment. There was no pressure to write something introspective.

Before the blog, I would sometimes force myself to be reflective and it came out like a bunch of pretentious hooey. Then, when the blog came about, I thought I was going to be the most open writer ever, airing out my dirty laundry for all to see.

Now, there's a balance. This post is a bit of a tightrope walk, but it's not too much information either.


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On Monday, I called Monique at her work-- I found the number online, despite the fact that it is in West Virginia. And I got her on the phone too. She sounded shocked to hear from me, and she didn't sound like she didn't want to hear from me. But there was also a distance in her voice.

I told her to call me on the weekend, when she wasn't working. She didn't call.

I think now that maybe she hasn't read this thing after all, and that maybe she is afraid to talk to me because she found someone else and doesn't want to hurt my feelings. But little does she know that finding out she has moved on is a great relief to me.

Whatever. I just didn't want to hurt her. And if she ever asks me if I intended to tell her about the other girls, I will be honest and say, "Yes-- but I was hoping you would've asked me about it instead of volunteering it."

All of this potential drama makes me wonder if I should just start another blog elsewhere, one that has no readers. But upon further thought, I realize that the whole point of blogging is to let people into your world somehow. A lot of bloggers are real good at keeping their private and blog lives separate, but not me. I take my inspiration from real life, and even though it is distorted on this blog it is still the main well from which I draw my ideas for posts.

If I wanted privacy, I'd go back to keeping a notebook again. But the exhibitionist in me wants to keep on blogging.

Therefore, I blog at my own risk. But it keeps things interesting.