somewhereinla's LiveJournal Entries [entries|friends|calendar]
somewhereinla

[ website | Thonian.com ]
[ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ]
[ calendar | livejournal calendar ]

[12 Dec 2003|01:53am]
Dear M,

I know you mentioned Shirin Ebadi weeks ago as a possible figure for my series. And though I appreciated the advice it didn't quite take me till this evening while watching her speech before the Nobel Prize Convention. There she articulated her messege of truth before the world as to the realities we face in this world of inequities poised before a new era of peace. While in her address she was clearly critical of the United States and allies for the inhuman conditions at Guantanamo, and she was specific by stating adopted UN regulations on human rights contradicted.

Reading into her history and life, I am inspired to believe she could be even greater then Gandhi. That it is possible for a revolution based upon reason and it's spiritual truth to win over those ready for war and destruction. And of all places for this revolution to spawn, Iran is the perfect candidate for rebirth.

So, an even greater idea struck me from this. What if I did a series on all of the Nobel Peace Prize Winners? That would certainly be something good to spread wouldn't it? If I included their biographies as part of my site I would be able to generate a lot of traffic, and potentially help the cause. So to some up, you helped me onto a new idea. Thanks!


p.s. I'm cooking all my own meals FULL TIME now. It's nolonger a mere novelty but a clear cut change. In the morning now for the past week or so I've been making fresh Tortillas from scratch, and mixing it with what we call around here 'the Grog"... The Grog is the meal you make in the beginning of the week that you contain and heat up from time to time. The last two weeks it's been Fajitas (also made from scratch) and Spanish Rice. Before that it was Spaghetti, and before that it was a chicken and rice dish... way back to the BarBQ's we had over the open flame of burning Wine Barrells. Corn on the cob, and pork marinated in tomato sauces and olive oil. I've been eating better than any other time in my life and I have almost no money in my pocket!

Oh, and I might have found some regular work too to keep me feed. :) such is the life.
post comment

[05 Dec 2003|07:09pm]
the shell is the spiral and the spiral is the shell
call it licking or sticking or attachments or sound therapy serpents slithering on bellies in a circle of time wrapped memories. in the middle of the dream like a death rock scene slow motion brain chemistry morphine
gig in the bag with the hag on the mag, spit love in a cup for a dove of your peace
negative reflective positive cease
to be kind is to kill when the killing is good, when to live in the world we must break every rule
time is making me drool
the shell that you have, on the back of the shelf with the hour glass clock striking the twelfth digit like a widget, solitary time, we are locked in the swirl and I'm loosing the ....

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt
post comment

[05 Dec 2003|07:08pm]
another line of a dime I might declare
one stranger to another in a black world of talon arches
good karma when will you meet me
when will my deeds become your will
and will of willing open embracing meeting my ideas with fluid true expression

art for art's sake poetic justice glories given to the womb of life and to the fruits that call us ashes summer
post comment

[04 Dec 2003|04:41pm]
It comes with a darkness. lights flicker to their ruin. sounds are less clear, words carry less weight, movements seem forced, and the day's sky is somehow cold and dull. it's the darkness, the nothingness inspiration.

Slogging through the minutes, you are at a pits bottom lull. null. empty. something has been drained from you, though it's all mysterious, and not any more or less mysterious than everything else. flashes of friendships and times and ancenters of your own life's dead memories flicker as drenched embers ending in smoke.

you want to touch the phone but not call a soul for it is too dark to concieve of any other light. the blackness and fog engulfs you.

it is happening to me now, all the lights are dimm and my brain is not making their connections. like learning of a neighbors death, the fog comes over me now and I am as dead pan blank to it's coming as a flat earth to dust. nothing.

there is no contextual need for this thing you are, there is not the desire nor the meaning to taste and smell and love and life. there is nothing but the movement of your fingers on the keybaord against the empty room of grey and ugly paint.
post comment

floral light cave dreamer [15 Oct 2003|01:07pm]
the minutes are like centuries counting down to some restful weary beach. energies focused, piercing, strange rivers of movement gathered collectively into a room, into a break truck, into a focused mind. yet thoughts scatter about. faces turn pallid, lifeless, void of the expressions of empathy or humanity. the digits are clicked and sorted, ascii eyes categorize and number all responses. telephones blind the mind for a moment then pass again. movement without contemplation, expression without passion, energy without intention.

everything is spinning, in circular directions, elliptical and square jagged conformity. up there somewhere is the controller, the impetus to all this madness. we dream about the life outside, playing beautiful melodies on our heads we heard one day, we somehow connected with them. the singers were there man, they were really there, and we were there with them, with our lover by our side, with our innocence attached to reason and clarity. that second we were alive we will live a thousand times over in the echos off the cubicle walls. as the clocks keep spinning, and the coffee pots send out smoke signals to ants of the burning sludge.

We fantasize about the girls we loved. all of them in their own turn. we play cards again in our mind with all the kisses we might have given, and all the warmth we might have had. oh to be that free again we think, to live that speck again over and over. if we are lucky we can stay in this place awhile, resting in the dilusions embrace, we must push out reality from disturbing our waking dream.

We dream as well of the life we might have lived, and still might decide to live. We think about all of our talents and gifts, how we could still sell, that one last vestage of ourselves we have held on to all these moments waiting to release. Fear becomes our tormentor, whipping us like slave beasts, stung with the pains of misconception and horror and faithless oppressions.

We want the dreamers to keep on dreaming, us slaves in the gray suits. we want that world to continue to exist beyond ourselves and that is why we are trapped. you see life speckled here and there and you don't know what to say to it. like having your parent die and being taken to your birthday party. thank you for the gifts, I don't know what to say to you, friends whom I've had all these years.

birthday cake party for the florescent light cave dreamer. Is she still out there? you know the one that touched you once, with those eyes that seemed to capture both your fear and your wildest purest dreams. Would she still recognize me, or call to me if she saw me in a crowd. would she still blow bubbles with her sweetness and wrap around me like I was the only cat in town?

Oh, to be alive again. being dead is so overrated. I want to live, and breath out there again. brush off this hellish world I've crawled into, sorting out other peoples papers, pushing other peoples dreams. But I'm stuck in this dream for awhile, in this cave for awhile, dreaming of a girl.
1 comment|post comment

[10 Oct 2003|02:15am]
New theory is emerging, old law of the 7th day is not about God at all, it's about the earth.

When you are creating products at some point you need to stop, recalibrate, and give some back to the earth. Otherwise they start coming out bad, mis-shaped, funked out, and your head gets in the wrong place. I've been working on these block prints, over and over, and I finally reached 'that point' where they are getting bad. Einstein, then Jack K come out looking ugly, and I destroy the block. Meanwhile I sold a Nietzsche for $21.00!!! It blew me away, there is a spark that I could maybe do this full time, and the freedom thought of that, I plunge down memory lane of highschool, conflicted angled man deciding to give up art for love 4 months before it happens for him. 4 years later all his art is lost to neglect, destroyed forever. Everything on paper that he had built up to sell, stolen by his own negligence.

And 4 years now since then, roughly a lifetime away and it's suddenly back in my life. Things are coming out clear, as the clouds of pot have drifted, and those tiny little addictions are observed. Even Jason makes sense now, art and woman don't mix... because, look at how I decided then, such a foolish wish upon a lonely unseen star on that beach near San Francisco. Watching this perfect couple enjoy themselves and the glow of love. Soon we were four, and soon enough they were split up and I was left in reality, mountain climbed, what now mind?

I don't have to go back.
3 comments|post comment

[27 Aug 2003|02:53am]
Message to Otter,

I otter write more often!

You've got it going little sis, and big sis as well. Me, I'm here stuck in LA hell and for some strange reason I can't seem to stop making poetry - even if it's bad and full of bad description. My vacation was total, my life will never be the same, though perhaps my personality has adjusted quickly enough being back. Someday I'll tell you 'bout it, or you could read some of it at the mangoroom site. Only a fourth of it is there, the rest is on my computer waiting for my courage to catch up to my convictions.

Going to Napa is a good idea, however, I might have to break a few things to do it. My life down here is a little tangled, especially with family, which I say is a very good thing. Jeff, as you may know is living here now, at my place, and I'm doing all I can to help him lift up. Honestly, it's been rough, but he's helping me as much as I'm helping him. Last night we both drove to Downy because a friend was talking suicide, took a bunch of money from him, gambled it away, and is putting him at risk of going back to prison. Beyond the craziness on her part I must say that I'm proud of my brother and how he responded - like a knight.

My parents are coming this weekend, for a few days, and that counts this weekend off for a Napa jaunt as well. It's funny to realize how much more responsible and 'withit' you are even though your younger than me. Traveling up there used to be an easy thing to do, relatively cheap, and required little maintenance. Now I have no money, no job, and very little real responsibility.

Also, the last time I wanted to go up was with a certain someone as an idea, but the timing was wrong all around. things have simmered down with that but I've been a little guarded about my time now, especially considering this little thing on the horizon I'm planning.

It amounts to no less then a complete redesign of my life, but unfortunately I will need to wait a few more weeks to implement it completely. I've decided to give up computers and web design as my primary source of income and focus on activities that would require physical exercise, open air or somehow involve the outdoors.

The first plan is to join the Iron Workers Union and work for companies that build sky scrappers and bridges. Though this may seem to be a dramatic shift for me, after Austria I think it's necessary. I've got a line out, a friend in the industry who I meet at a party. We somehow bonded by being foolish enough to both try the brownies, that happened to be tainted with certain substances... thus my reason for waiting a few more weeks (testing)... I've got to get the little brownie bastard out of my system, and that certain substance out of my life for good. I'm done with it for awhile, until I decide to go back to computers.

My long vacation gave me a lot of thoughts about life, and my obligations to it. As for the career shift, if sweeping and being yeld at doesn't slap me back into some kind of reality, I have other avenues to return to being present minded. Virtual space has it's place, just not for me anymore, and not for my music or art. Without a connection to society it is impossible to create with meaningful substance. I hope that my future career will bond me to reality, and to a whole new element of society. I need to create something that requires effort, that will last, and that others can enjoy.

You know me well, and perhaps you could explain my actions better than myself. A change has been needed for awhile now, and I hope this will give me growth.



So, wow, a cottage? nolonger at the rivers edge? That will be something to see... I will try to commute up there soon, let me look around my schedule and make some adjustments. I need to see Ruben and Jason too at some point as well


p.s. I hear Jason might have a girlfriend....
1 comment|post comment

[04 Jun 2003|01:34am]
Comically, in tragedy, it is I who would agree, the one that flies unteathered skys is really truly free. free in an art or phrase, following the sound in haze. a fleet of digital birds, chirping in chips, and microns moving in beeps and blips, and I am there controling it... controling it? no... not controlling a thing. I am just flying through it all, tiny bird, little wing, just a partical like you said, not some thought control some TV head. static free. free to chose, yes, but chosing nothing. wind. poooooohhhhhh.
...
sitting at the dock of the bay watching the clouds roll away
sitting at the dock of the bay wasting TIME IIIII AAAAMMMM

I wonder how best to waste all of my time? tear away those remaining ties, wrapped in collars and blue dog lies. slaves. Or, what project gaze would I slave myself to, what tethers could bind me, should net me from the free flowing air. how about the air itself. how about devoting my life to the free and deliberate waste of time? am I a slave in this? a wasted set of nurons?

What about the cells, the cells? yes the cells themselves want to give and get, see and set the world ablaze! what about celebrity and all that craze, and all the worlds you want to own, and taste and grab and shield and hone away till it's all gone? what about it hon'? girl, on the other side of my thumb? free to chose to get some, then go. a smile akin on devils row.

though, yes. driving out west is the burning best. like some dream of some crazy writer documenting all his drugs - I know where you have been thinking of going, or is that my slave talking? Out here we are East where green is cheap, abundancy in a week and parks and man live hand in hand.

but maybe I am a slave, and in your writing that thing is true, that I am not aware of knowing you, but that's perhaps a slave in me too. better still to not know? to not understand or agree or see or believe in that light that is you and me, for it is a tragedy of mismatched time, criss-crossed at once then left to wind away in some calcium road by some highway sign. out there where big brother takes his piss, ant hills and sage and spledors hiss.

Is it Understanding? yes! perhaps understanding, no knowledge! now there is a way to waste a dream, a pointless calling and reasoned sceme, we think we can hold on to knowledge but it's a big lie even if it's true, there's nothing here can hold on to. don't you know, it can't be so, it's one big waste of time...

so how do you spend it? you want to understand? make a movie? write a song or two? does the movie flow like wind straight through? does the music come with oceans blue and blue lights beaming right out of you? is there reason beyond your own beliving? ... I know you... you have this too.

and there are others out there just like you... doing the same thing. a little piece, a bigger piece... it's just for fun.. counting the rolls of things and springs and dings and pings we've come from.



but I'm tired now. my wind wants to entrust, under a coat of eyelids, to wither and rust, rest there in a state of rem. perhaps it's demons calling again?

I think not.

it's so much more.
in the end it's what your fighting for






- pictures, and words are here:
www.mangoroom.com

ping!
3 comments|post comment

from london, duty free, dollars for pounds, electronically [29 May 2003|01:49pm]
I'm on a foreign laptop in a foreign familiar soil. this is the home of childhood comedy skits and british detective novels. this is the place where pipes are made and laid out before us to be boggled and scratched debated. Boiled carrot plated, fancy a bitter ale?

pence and pretence and eyes that don't look at you except when your are not looking... english scowls are not intended to be ridicule, just judicious.

And the flight here was pleasant, like some mayflower travelor aboard a now commercialized and oversized efficient cargo steamer enrout to the old land again. come buy more stuff here again travelor, we appreciate your business travelor. first class, buisiness class and third class.

Sitting next to a large bossomed student and her mother. gapping at my book, passing the time with LCD DVD personalized movie screens... it must be a dream?

Periodica, like in cycles, thoughts of a certain someone whom I'm currently meeting in another life and whoes reality are my dreams from that other world. and we talk through the digits and signals alive and conscious, brave and new, always new, always fresh.

How close we came to giving up that something we've been having, and yet, I know for a certainty that in some distant point we are already a union. perhaps this life, perhaps another. and there is a calm to knowing that. it's ok for each of us to take our time doing what we need to do.

and the branch is building up stock of thick dark wood molaysis. it oozes out the vein, and out again into the soil backwards flowing like thirsting nurons.

transmitting single. departing again. zhhhzzzzhhhh
1 comment|post comment

[28 May 2003|01:38am]
The 'wisdom of the rain', to quote a friend. flowed through my fingers as I washed the blue plastic cup. 12:30 at night, roughly, dark and foreign soil bound, I washed, rinsed, and stacked cup and plate, fork and knife, bowl and pan until all of the sink was free of them. With each cup I tried to be more focused then the next cup. "Right now, I thought, I am wiping the cup with the spong, it's rough side is removing greese and flecks of tiny food particles, and the soap is clearing the molecular muddyness surrounding it's form"... out loud I spoke. and as my mind drifted back to the night before like a school projector looping the conversation between me and my ancient friend, I acknowledged those thoughts as well. My mind is thinking about the past, my hands are washing the cup, my eyes are looking into the center of the plant, my mind is thinking about thinking about the plant... and so on. I ran out of dishes, and felt this feeling of cleanliness. Periodically I sprinkled water onto the salted back of my kneck and ears, cheeks and face. it felt so refreshing to touch the water to my face and hands. Soon my two hands formed a cup from which I drank in large airless gulps. my body could feel the waters pouring down my throat and rinsing the walls of my internal organs. It felt so refreshing, the water tasted so good and clean, and invigorating, like a cold shower.
1 comment|post comment

[27 May 2003|06:27pm]
The chance to live is always now, if you choose it. weather in rain or in the golden arms of the great eastern sun, life is here, now, we are all living now. These are the days of all time, even if there is no love, and no future bliss to wrap a kiss around. There is so much beauty in one second, enough to live a lifetime. In a minutes time we multiply the possiblities by another million. Deep inside the fractions of truth are a thousand worlds explorable, and we can travel them all.

I know you are hurt. and I am sorry for your pain, I wish I could explain away every scratch and ache today, but it is what it is. Yes, you wanted to save me from a love for missery, I see that. But I did not want to be saved to live in a dream. a world of futurist notions watching you in the arms of other men, other women, to 'understand' finally that my silly human instincts and emotions are not valid, not true, not real, dillusions, deathtrap tangles. We cannot hide from instinct, we must embrace them, understand them. Build with your present moment, not against it, otherwise you are forever in the future and never really here - that is what I say.

No, I know it was suppose to be more than that. And that your actions cannot be simplified like I've pieced together, I know that I did not understand you, that was the shame of it. I want to understand you, because I am still in love with you, and I know that deeply.

You told me how much you felt, and I heard the sweetness, I know the sweetness, it is that very sweetness that I fell in love with. But it seems more a sweetness on a timer, a clock, an interupted cycle preparing to depart. to shift and start out to another world at a moment's notice.

It is a sweetness that I need to know will contain real nurishment. To fall in love with sweetness alone is to be like a fool in love with the moon. Glutony.. a sickness. it would never work. a man needs a woman, not a taste. a woman needs a committement, at least in the old days she wanted that, and she would live by that. who is the woman here in our entanglement, and who is the man? Traditional roles are out the window, so all we have is our emotions and instinct, should we forgoe them? Perhaps the fault does not belong in either of us, look around and you can see the shift in society - will a society without children ever survive? what about a society of nothing but children? Don't we need a society rich with the openness of children and the responsibility of nurturing parents?

Perhaps my words have finally sparked the call to resentment that has been locked away? But are you not responding? are we not connecting? isn't that the essence of connection? true connection is an exchange of ideas. Or, is it proof of my madness, proof of my non worthy status. If it was all a dream then why did you care so much? if was all a dillusion, then what went through your mind when you wrote to me just now? why did you come over?

We can deny love, it is as easy as denying the beauty of another human being. Compartmentalizing others into workable pieces. But for love. Because there is love, there is life, and love is something we can seldom control. Like true life, it is a mystery. All we can control is the intention of our own will, our bravery in keeping posture and integrity. I tried to maintain integrity with you, to be honest and sincere, to share all that I am, my very marrow with you. If she asked me to I would gladly give it all.

I wanted those words you hold back, those that dampened, that grew angry and bitter over time, that turned into hate and finally to that dishonest and easy answer of giving up hope. You walked out the door, but you reply to my thought without provocation. You are not done with me yet, there is something you still need to share. So far, you could not give me those words, you could not reduce yourself to kiss my foot, you've had to alter life into a mirror. and so did I.

But I still have not given up hope.

You were not able to give 'committement' in the traditional sense. And in the end that was intollerable for me. After so many years of searching for the perfect companion I've discovered the most important element is committement. All of TRUST comes from committement, knowing that another will REALLY be there, will really understand your own emotions and care for them. Truth it could be said, comes from trust, otherwise we dwell in a paranoid state. An understanding of truth only comes when we branch off away from the stability of trustworthy objects in our lives. committement is that element inside us that convinces our hands to make the bed in the morning, to brush our hair, to make our meal. We need it.

But more than that, committement comes from within. Our own committment to honesty, to the intention of loving ourselves by really examing our own actions and not placating to vulgarity and drama of our animal spirits. Emotions must be understood, and by understanding them we can become fully human beings.

All along, I gave you my side of things. read it, and you will see it's all there. and what is more telling is that I did not get a response even when clearly posted. I got a phone call. which I recorded. It was like hearing a signal from the moon, bits and static, starts and stops, long pauses of mistrust. Did you believe your own words? you said it was pages and pages of madness - I disagree. I saw more to it, much more. And I am interested in hearing more.

But how can I ever hear more, if you are unwilling to speak more? If you don't trust your own thoughts as coherrant, do not mark your own text as valid, and do not sit down and understand yourself how could I ever understand you?

I am not a notch in the stick, I am a branch.

In the end and the beginning that was all I wanted from you. Half the man, standing there waiting for you, waiting for that committement to go down that branch.
2 comments|post comment

[27 May 2003|02:29am]
Finally, just for a moment, and then a long sumptous pause I tasted, with gushing chocolate clarity the taste of freedom. Parting my lips, then pushing out into the cold, dry vastness of unknowable reality I said goodbye with that kiss, and also a bless you, for having touched me even in that moment. As the after taste permeates the contours in golden waves and fruit filled ripples I am sad to have to leave you. But a taste is just a taste that will never last, a spring of flavor, then a summer of deep nurishment, autom coca memories, and winters by the fire. The food of life is never to last beyond it's consumption, once it is gone, it will not return in the same form. That which distinguishes it will have vanished, and new trickles of life will emerge in it's place. Do not grasp on to this moment warrior, for all that you will hold is past, present you will wrongly assume, is somewhere in the future.
1 comment|post comment

[10 May 2003|09:12pm]
you are the fall of rain. a catalyst invading reason.
a springing fullness I will never see.
forever loving you there in that tired season.
seasons ending for you and me.

it's a sad death song

right away you have such pretty tears, imagined all and never got to see.
climb the brittle drying dieing season, bursting starlight memory.
they never came. he dreams again still they that never came to be.
will you ever sense what you'll be missing. feel what has been killed in me?

it's another sad death song

in this death hold, loving love ever after,
stars below twinkle quiet graying hell.
can you feel yourself slipping down the line yet?...
me, there out of place in the brittle golden grass wanting to save you,
worshiping your feet but not your ground...

and below you the fading children listen to your stories.
mesmorized by a sweet sound calling heaven.
how I wanted to save you for that.
to have such a purpose as to give back to life a life so free...

it's another sad death song
post comment

[06 May 2003|12:25am]
this extracted from a word rant, not yet put live... it sums up the last couple of months rather nicely. Extreme paranoia, extreme desire, disgust, love and then hatred for life, and ultimately acceptance to bite into this big hideous and wonderful ball we call the world. But, only after I have decided to take a break from everything, even my connection to california's wonderous joy fun fun party. Nightmares plaig me 'nightly'.

We only jump out if we can't find the next step. when we land, it hurts. but oh what sights we have seen, moments of brilliant clarity, unusable in our low state, so worthless in fact that we give ourselves a choice. To jump out again, to jump off, or to stay the fuck down and shut up.

I fully believe that life can be appreciated while in a correctional facility yet I don't really want to test my belief. It is good enough to believe things without implementing a means of error correction.

What? you want me to talk about flowers? F U !



-----------------------------
this disease, this flattering for nothing, this pyscho babble, endless talk, endless long walks talking into the satalight relationships, traveling at the speed of light I hear the delay, the feedback, the reverb, the choir room, digital signals, digital distortions, corruptions of the lifeform, corruptions of the endless nightmare, beautification by digital exactness, a crisp digital truth, a clean digital world, a clean lie, a clean fuck, a clean dick, a clean cunt, freshly licked and fucked by qualified cunt and dick sipping technicians. custodians to pleasure, cleaning up afterwards, the spilled seed afterwards, buckets of seed, dried seamen at the top, organisms forming, eyeballs, ears, wiskers, dandeline nightengale butterfly distance. chanting the dancing poets, dancing stoic liars, purity of digital grace, digital zeros, digital ones, digital excrement matching your eyes, matching the color and smell of your desires, your diseases, your cavities and cravings for clarity. your crevis, your curves, your lashes, eye dash attachments, you are connected, they are traveling without moving, like some space movie by david lynch, wizards with spells of words, with empty volumes. the word, the word, the word, the word is good, the word is love, digital love, digital sucking, digital dependance exchanging, linking one another with juices, with creams, with flavors of all kinds, our vision is painted. painted with colors, painted with the mountains, with the cityscape, with the towers, with the falling grace, with the debri of rotting flower birds still allowed to live in our caves, the poor grave faces given the right to exist, to co-inhabit our community we have taken from their extinction. rolling on top of them, crushing them under synthetic tire tread, synthetic fuel, diesel power shaking, exhaust, fumes, folly, knives, hammers, chissels, vapors, vaporizors, vapor condensation, vapor trails in the skies, wind blowing, wind corruption, wind fucking our ears, wispering lies, like a cheating husband in the early morning. sneaking in, under the carpet, under the radar, under the suspicious gaze, moving slowly, not scaring the fish, the birds, the cougers, the mountain lyon slowly getting shot, tribes fighting with each other, under the blanket now, here have a blanket, how about some food, eat, enjoy yourself, we come in peace. we want only a little space, and we will give you such splendors, just a little room, let's all eat.
post comment

[25 Apr 2003|10:39pm]
The air is electric and filled with smog, cold, thunderous with moving vehicles traversing from point to point stopping through only in the sound of wind and the rumble of their engines. Before me, scorching my knees is a wild fire, sparks dance escaping the metal mesh and are hardening the metal top to a near red glow. Daniel walks by, my cohabitant, asks where Joe is... I inform him that he never made it, not for the fire, not to sit by the pit. Behind me, through the wall, my other brother launches virtual bomb after virtual bomb onto the virtual enemy in his now third hour of war against the evil french. In the game he is playing the Germans, it's world war 2, and the conquest for land is at a fervant pitch.

It was all a mistake. a foolish dreamers gamble... But no, no, it was a million times more than all of that, it was something that would have given meaning to life like a flower to a field, and it did transform my being. though it was all too soon to come about, it came anyway, and I did the best I could, and now there is only pain. After the first month now, though I can't really say it's been a month since time itself seems to have lost almost all meaning, most of the physical spasms have left. It's strange how your body can actually jolt like it was being electricuted simply by remembering a person. But she really is a special person, in fact, she could be the most special person I have ever met. And she really is gone, out of my life, and unfortunately that is just the way it has to be.

Joe didn't come over, and instead of having that little extra family support around to pass the time with, I went onto my computer and started working on my website. Only, I needed a little inspiration, and so like a fool I jumped over to her site, and started to appreciate the layout. Not that I can't come up with my own web layout, but understand that my mind seems to enjoy tormenting itself. Anyway, I accidently got into the picture section, and recognized that none of the pictures were ones that I had taken. It dawned on me very briefly that perhaps there was a chance that she would recognize how happy she was with me, if I sent her the pictures that I had taken when I was with her. Perhaps she would reallize the wholesome and timeless quality of our time together, and know that such times were only a fraction of what would be in store if she would join forces with me.

In a mad dash of brilliant computer geek work I started going through all of the pictures I never sent. What a fool I had been for being so miserly with them, maybe there was still time to rectify my error, to correct this oversight, maybe ... maybe... it became overwhelming. each photo told it's own story, a tiny little tale, like a page ripped from Crime and Punishment (which I'm currently reading). But, perhaps these pages where the ones that would unlock her, that would unlock me as well. Perhaps something could still grow from it, perhaps some twist to the plot could still be written. And then anger, that those other memories were coming before my own, that they will be remembered because there is a picture with them, and that the memories without pictures will be lost forever. That that inefable moment we shared by this same fire pit so many months ago will be lost, that the stroll along the bridge and beaches will be lost, that the countless bottled wishes for joy never expressed will never be consumed. Oh such a tragic lost connection, such a missadventure of wrong turns, missed opportunities, non corrected transgressions of speach, and a world of foolish vanity.

It became overwhelming, my heart was breaking, squeezing into a cube of ice and pickled death. racing into tragedy, blinded by the fury, the gorging skeleton night, by the inner darkness of those unexplored nightmares. The biggest nightmare of them all came today... for I did not dream of her, and that means I have moved moved on. That realization came in the morning... And I go around telling people that I long to wake with true restfulness, when it truth I am repeatedly confronted with my anxieties and the pressures of trying to survive.

And then, I look around, and remember that I AM building a life, that I don't need external love to validate my own existance, that the inner tragedy of my own soul has spilled out into my dreams and into romances and that I will rise above all of this. I am bigger than a few torn pages from my book, I am stronger than the characters portrayed, and I am alive to live another day and love again. but all is vanity. and I am half a man without her.

And then I start to feel inspired, because before me, along with the fading fire is one of the most tragic stories I have ever heard, and there I am as the hero conquering his need for needfullness. She is that unobtainable dream, and he is that starving artist and musician pining for her to love him. All for a crowd, and in the end they clap, and in his desperate misery smiles and takes a bow. What a world? what a tragic beauty it all is. And it's all the inspiration I would ever need to write the next album, the next chapter of my life, and decide to live and grow and be alive. In that misery, that near hopeless destruction, the hero still lifts himself up, and we all gasp in hope for him. We love him, we want him to win some day, we want him to keep on going, to never hid away his love, to always be that inspiring notion of higher truth...

There is a duality to the hero, because even when he succeeds all of his life seems tormented by the anguish of confronting suffering. Though all the world seems to weigh upon him, he holds to some conviction, and idea of rising above it. Does he want to rise above in order to rise above the world? Or does he want to raise the whole world with him, even at the expense of his own life? A true is not after personal reward, but finds fulfillment in the obtainment of devine truth.
post comment

[09 Apr 2003|03:59pm]
Looking forward past your death song
your cursed bliss make men's heart's weary
the hills of quiet and ocean's black out still beyond
all distance sparks that could be measured there I see it glowing.
a blue light beaming. calling me to join them.

and I hear the dragon speaking, make your own light my love
grow your own day, and in that splintered ending hide that golden boy away from me
deride this path, don't let me see him like this love. I will take him, it is my nature to do so.

you are fall the catalyst invading reason
the springing fullness will never see
forever loving there in your season
seasons ending as you and me

it's a sad death song

right away you have such pretty tears, imagined all and never got to see.
climb the brittle drying season, bursting starlight memory.
they never came. he dreams again still they never came to be.
will you ever sense what you'll be missing feel what has been killed in me?

it's another sad death song

in this death holds love ever after, stars below twinkle quiet graying hell. can you feel yourself slipping down the line yet?... me, there out of place in the brittle golden grass wanting to save you, worshiping your feet but not your ground... and below you the fading children listen to your stories mesmorized by a sweet sound calling heaven. how I wanted to save you for that. to have such a purpose as to give back to life a life so free...

it's another sad death song
post comment

[21 Mar 2003|09:06pm]
Q: When the troops enter Iraq, and eventually attempt to liberate Iraq from Saddam's evil clutches, do you think the people of Iraq will mostly view the U.S. troops as liberators or invaders? Do you think they will be happy to have a democ-Iraq or sad to see their culture violated?


Here is one idiots opinion.

Iraq, the middle east, Isralies, and indeed most of the world view actions with more significance then they do words. Words are the paper that gets ignited, the flags that get burned, and the promises that fade into the sand. Countries around the world do not fear the words of Bush, they fear a repeat of the actions of the past, they fear our arrogance, they fear our neglegence and our lack of empathy or sympathy. But much of this fear we inheritted from the previous world power Great Britain, and before that the French, and before that the Spanish, and the Roman Catholic Church, the huns, the Romans and so on and so forth. The general fear is that absolute power corrupts absolutely. If we carry the stigma of the super power who is out to dominate, then the Iraqi people will eventually grow to loath our existance like the people of South Korea do today. To ask such a question as you pose is really to try and predict the future actions of our own administration. The Iraqi people will react based upon what we do over there, the whole world is watching.

To answer your question I must first answer another question, what is to be made of American dominance in world affairs? A skeptic will tell us that this is the rise of American Imperialism, despotism, and the rule of the elite over the poor, it is the rise of Christian conservatives, the gun toating right wing constituancy that has hijacked our political system driving American politics the way of Teddy Roosevelt. Walking softly, carrying a big stick, and going into any nation we want to so long as our national interests could be benefitted. Look at Panama, look at the Phillipines, and even look deeper back into the formation of Texas and our aquisition of California. According to the skeptic when Bush was 'elected' it was only achieved through the gradual dumbing down of our nation by the constant blasting of corporatized capitalistic entertainment. The rise of fast food, the gadgets, the starbucks on every corner has been draining our ability to think outside ourselves, we have become selfish and vain. A skeptic mistrusts technology, especially if that technology is designed with a market in mind to buy it. He will tell you that true innovation in humanity comes from the enlightenment of the individual not through the technological achievements of the group.

I believe that the role America plays in international politics has been permamently altered by the events of 911. Speaking generally, Bush was elected because people wanted a tax cut and some leader that did not act robotic. It was monkey versus Robot and monkey won. people like monkeys, they fear robots. Ironically Bush's lack of foreign knowledge was a plus during the campaign because he seemed less likely to engage in the turmoil of world affairs. People saw that the Israeli Palestinian situation was escalating, but so long as we were not responsible we didn't want to know about it. "Let them kill each other - I don't give a s#$$". Our economy was at it's peak, and Americans wanted to sit in their fat and stew in the pleasure of a beautiful world. It was your time to achieve your POTENTIAL, to liberate yourself from the confines of culture and ethics, and be free to indulge in the bulge of capitalism.

But 911 changed our perception, we saw with clarity finally that we are at risk, that our actions in world affairs are carefully monitored and challenged by a rising power. The policy of containment will not protect us from those that seek to destroy us. Time is on the side of terrorists. It will only take one major attack to destroy our economy, only a single nuclear strike from a terrorist cell, just one large scale biochemical attack in a subway to destroy the freedom we all enjoy. In effect one bad apple spoils the whole bunch. The barrel is shrinking, we are nolonger protected by our distance from them. With such a possibility looming, how can we be expected to sit and wait for it to happen? Even if we focused all of our policy internally, monitored all of our own people, and created a society dedicated to our own protection, to the point where the free spirit is confined - where would it end? If we did this, along with making massive changes in international policy with countries like Israel as a way of appeasing Hamas, PLO, Alkaeda and others, if we pulled out of Saudi Arabia, dragging behind our own tail, if we openly begged forgiveness for our crimes against the arab people and the nation of Islam - can anyone honestly expect that an extremist would still not take an opportunity to destroy us if given the chance?

Some might call this paranoia, I call it the new GRAND PARANOIA. Some might say this is self defeating and short sighted. I have argued this very point with many, during my search for my own answer. Some say that we can NEVER say with certainty that life will keep on going, to do so goes against the essence of life itself. On a purely individual level I agree, and I can tell you - I am not afraid of being killed by a terrorist. My life exists for freedom, and the moment I give into the fear of losing life - I do loose it. But society itself is based upon the rule of law, order is the key to our existance. A terrorist destroys our own belief in order which undermines our culture. Without the stability of a governing society despotism will dominate the physically week, chaos will ignite all through our cities and a cultural darkness will envelope the whole world.

During the Cold War we knew exactly who our threat was, and we could easily threaten them back - this created the peace we had for 40 years. A terrorist has no national origin, and nothing to defend, their life by definition is expendable. They do not care if we nuke them, or their entire region, in fact they would encourage us to do so as part of their fundamentalism. There is no way of deterrance against such a foe, the only solution, if we do choose to keep society going is to go after the problem at the source.

Watching the twin towers fall was one of the most horrific sites I have ever seen. Yet today in Qatar, near the main base of American forces fighting Saddam, people cheer as they watch footage of the towers coming down, calling America arrogant, they cheer in praise for the brave young men who hijacked those planes. Societies that are fueled by such hatred will only galvanize their efforts when there are signs of cracks in their opponents. They will dance in the streets, they will laugh out loud at our destruction. They come from a harsh society of absolutes, of abuse of power, of massive indifference by the rich for their suffering. They cannot understand the flexibility afforded in a free and open society. They are angry, they see our country as weak, our people evil, our culture as selfish.

Our actions in the world have been selfish, and weak, especially during and after the cold war. We have made mistakes, been prejudice against people based upon their skin color and ethnicity, we have acted cowardly, without vision, without leadership, and against our own values prooving our hypocracy and our dual weakness glutony and lack of responsibility to our actions. Nobody is responsible for their own actions, sue them, make them pay! Since Vietnam we choose to believe we will never accept casualties in war. Our very people distrust our soldiers our police and our own elected officials. Meanwhile our communities are withering away, white America continues running away from the big cities, we leave our dead and dieing fellow citizens to rot instead of facing the challenge of social imballance. We pass laws without conviction, we let special interest dominate our political system, we rarely vote, we try to get out of jury duty, we pass tax cuts even as our national debt inches towards 7 trillion dollars. Can such a society survive? What about the community? what about contributing to it's beauty and growth and the enlightenment of all beings you can touch?

The spirit of this country once stood for the enlightenment of the whole world, let our hearts be a beacon! We have become a society without convictions. At least that is what our detractors believe - the French have turned away from us. Remember the French? What does it say on the Statue of Liberty? "*Bring*
*us* *your* *poor*, your tired, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.".... we have become a nation of fools! Monuments are there for people to remember their convictions!

In words we stand for peace, for the life and liberty and human rights of all people. But in actions we are not willing to hold true. In Sommalia, when 18 of our combat troups were killed and dragged through the streets we said we would revenge, but in essence all we did was lob a few smart missles at them killing a donkey, and destroying a pharmacuetical plant. Protestors demanded to know why we were there in the first place "NOT ANOTHER VIETNAM!" they screamed. Clinton I'm sure hoped nobody would really notice we were there in the first place, it seems a president has to sneak a selfless act past his own people. Later on we pulled out our troops and let the monsters win. We stand for peace but act for self interest. What about the some 100,000 people we killed during the first Gulf war? And what about the 500,000 who died as a result of our inaction afterwards? That was a war about oil not liberation and not about democracy. If you are going to fight someone you need to accept that there will be casualties, we could not accept blood for oil, especially our own blood. We missed a huge opportunity to create love in Iraq. Deep down our conviction was reduced to this "It's ok if others suffer so long as we are not directly responsible for their suffering, and we get our oil".

If your convictions for fighting are so flimsy that war is only possible with 1000 to 1 kill ratios then what does that say about your convictions. True war is about will, and about the individuals will to live and promote their way of life - in our case the ideas of freedom. For too long now the only conviction we have shown is that freedom doesn't work.

What about the opportunity to bring freedom to all? To liberate the world from the oppressive regimes, to educate, to encourage trade, to develop nations, to rise to our position as leaders of the world?

Thomas Jefferson said that the price of freedom is constant dilligence. We have been asleep too long America. If half the world lives in chains then all of humanity lives in chains. We cannot skirt our responsibility to be the lighthouse of the world. If we sit by on the sidelines, sipping our coke, eating our mass produced burgers, watching as half the world lives in despotic poverty, over populated, uneducated, rampant with disease and infections then we are not worthy of keeping our power, and eventually we will loose it.

It can be further generalized that war is caused from a fundamental imbalance of power, and no war is ever over until both sides grow more balanced. World War One ended in the collapse of Germany and Austria. Rising from the ashes of that was the hatred instilled in Hitler and others. World War Two ended when we occupied Germany and Japan and built up their economy, creating that balance again.

Finally back to Iraq, ff we go into Iraq, as we did the first time, bomb the shit out of them, then leave without fixing our holes - we are doomed to see a repeat of 911. The Iraqi people will loath us, and the hatred that is felt all over the world for America will escalate into World War Three. All nations will turn against us in scorn, shaming us, demanding our destruction. Imagine there were 20 Osama bin Ladens, 40 Saddam's? Imagine every nation resorting to terrorist acts against us - seen as the only way to make us feel their hatred.

Will the Iraqi people hate us in the end? I say it depends upon what we do over there, and how much attention we give to our own actions. It's up to us to prove that Democracy can bring real freedom.
post comment

[06 Mar 2003|02:27am]
that same haunted look watched the towers come down
in awe, in amazement
petrified with disbelief
almost pure disillusionment
but a resolution, an art chick gaul that is burning with intensity
a ready stance, vanquishing eyes pushing out as the ceiling fan spins

and he, all but half a man, half a face stairing up, watching, waiting, raised and ready to believe something, anything, yet nothing comes but sympathy for a cruel and misguided world.
post comment

[19 Feb 2003|02:14am]
ok. So it's been awhile since I updated my journal. This tends to happen when one looses one's job, has to quickly come to grips with their newfound freedom and creative direction, and actively decides to give up working in an office environment.

In case you are worried that I've lost my mind - please understand that we only have one life to live, and being sensible is a foolish choice when there is nobody to protect but yourself. Throughout my life I have made choices to minimize my responsibility, to allow myself the freedom to one day work doing what I love, with greater and greater passion. What can I say, I've been lucky so far - let's see what I can do with this now.

It's been almost two weeks now, and let's see what has been accomplished towards this direction.

Wednesday - Get laid off, go home, smoke and drink a lot, spend time with Jeff.

Thursday - Pack up my stuff in a few boxes, back up files to my laptop and head home.

Thursday and Friday - Continue work on AUDIO JOURNAL project. Incorporating audio loops from my backups with the voice recordings of Jeff. this is the beginning, trial and error.

Friday night - see my Shana. Demoed to Shana for reaction, also played it to Pat. Possitive response (still in the early faze)

Saturday - (I don't remember what I did and that is the God's honest truth!) Oh wait, I think I had dinner at Jay and Kim's place... yea yea, that's it.

Sunday - Crafted some more loops, better setup my room to have speaker system in main room next to bed.

Monday - I don't remember anything from this day... it's a blurr... ahhhhhh unemployment!!!

Tuesday - Go over to pats and INVENTED a better way for us to collaborate. We end the day with over 20 recorded pieces... Pat later cuts them up and we now how 75 loops from a 6 hour session!!!

Tuesday night - Get together with Ennio, try to add LAPTOP drums. Our energy needs callibration, more work to do.

Wednesday - Worked on studio, settled some bills.

Thursday - Saw this crazy show with Midgets, strippers, Masked Mexican wrestlers, and goofy radio announcers.

Friday - Picked up my check and discused FUSE stuff with E R. Went and saw Shana for Valentines day. Dinner.

Saturday - Had to leave early, Went to see the Anti-war rally. Recorded a bunch of great stuff, went over to Jay and Kim's afterwards for a little get together.

Sunday - Added stuff from the ralley to my AUDIO JOURNAL... JOURNAL 1 is about 11 minutes long now, and growing.

Monday night - Started working on "Half the Man"... came up with piano version of the song... it's strange that of all the keys to use, Shana wanted to use F#m... Everything I do on the piano is in that key - it's my favorite. I'm struggling a little bit with pro-tools, I don't see what the big fuss is about that program. It's crash happy, doesn't have a very intuitive interface, and it's difficult to extract your files once there in there. I've been doing a lot of work with just my dat plugged into my audio IN slot... it works, and doesn't require conversion like that stupid pro-tools.

Tuesday - that's today, I went over to PAT's and we focused on work for FUSE. We cranked out some new ones too - real cool.

Wednesday - we have a meeting with E R and Jay F regarding website and music. 12:30 at Mexicali... Bring the Laptop.
post comment

in the quiet hours I think of holding you [10 Feb 2003|10:21am]
In the quiet hours I think of holding you.

In a quiet place, a place of calm, of tranquil relaxation. a place of wholeness, being one with the fruit passed around. War is on the outside, war is in your mind not your heart. Conflict is perceptual.

There is an opening, in my heart, a new one every time. When I think of you in the quiet, holding you in my gaze, amazement at your form, sensing another presence, not alone anymore.

There is a new joy opening up for me, a boldness, a heartfelt adventure, a relaxed flower petal, a daisy-land dream. A night, a day, a world, a dream of dreaming, of relaxing, of being one spirit, one mind, one truth.

In the wavering, wind blowing against a field of daisies, slow motion, twilight blue, blue mist around the edges of the periphery. In the stillness I hold you in view, in the motion I sense you are there. Another presence, another world available, opening up for me, a new joy, relaxed flower petal, a daisy-land dream.
post comment

navigation
[ viewing | most recent entries ]
[ go | earlier ]