Mommas Boy Hero

Where Am I?

2011-12-24T21:34:00.000-08:00

I think people generally hear about, or discover the concept of Enlightenment, and if interested in the philosophy, will pursue its acquisition. Consequently, they will confront and explore all aspects of themselves looking for it.

On the other hand, there are cases like mine, where a person realizes Enlightenment quite before they have any frame-of-reference to describe it. And then, a person like myself must confront and explore all aspects of themselves to deal with it. lol, Baba Ram Dass says, "All trips lead to the same destination."

We are all on a tremendous Arc of Existence! We are all people! This means we come inundated with a complex set of mammalian & social behaviors. This also means that we are equipped with the ability to perceive "I" and to pursue that fundamental. Contentedness does come in extricating oneself from one's mundanely perceived sense of self, to realize the vast act of consciousness, of which we are one.

Once I realized the Unchanging Essence for myself, I flew into a tailspin for more than a decade. So many aspects of my personality which had been shaped over the course of my childhood and adolescence were now in conflict with this larger acceptance of myself.

Making my way through that array of expectations was an adventure par excellence and tragedy. Youth is truly wasted on the young. But we get through it, and there remains a memory of something I miss very deeply, seeing it from the vantage point of age - of course it is true, you will never be younger than you are at this very moment.

While I did manage to get off the track I'd put my life, I haven't been able to illuminate for myself another path. My dreams are more deeply understood, and in their coming to be so, they have been put out-of-the-scope of one lifetime!

Additionally, time and again I have found that the greatest things, the things that revive you and give you a new lease on life, are those things whose realization you could not have dreamt or orchestrated. They are those things you did not know you needed, but came to you regardless. Everything works this way. I have found the more a person can accept the circumstances they face, the sooner those very predicaments are (often miraculously) resolved and dissolved.

A great faith begins to form after years of this kind of living. One begins to feel themselves shepherded through a wilderness that is too immense and frightening to consider.

I am still often times consumed with an anxiety of tomorrow. I still feed the desires which see myself becoming a particular fantasy version of myself. Therefore, events often have an emotional connotation, depending on whether they are in-fitting with my proposed story-of-self.

In the upcoming year (and beyond), I hope to do better with this behavior. Spending one's time in a lavish future rather than the present is a bastardly trade. Soon enough, the future comes and it is still the present...yet you are older, and the fantasies find themselves feeling a bit unrealistic and in need of a complete overhaul from the ground up. But as you are older and still attached to those old dreams, the reconstruction of new ones becomes an unbearable task.

It is for this reason I find myself, more than ever, thankful for what today has been. Privately, I think of all the people who have made this moment, for me, and the gratitude is like a tidal wave in my heart...I cannot direct it without causing the destruction of that which I seek to compliment. So my heart is exploding with each beat, sending recurrent waves of love through my body. I am in tears with joy, and I am in prayer, for I know naught.

It Has Been A Year!!!

2011-12-23T10:08:00.001-08:00

So much has happened!! So much that I, myself, have forgotten that I even have this blog~!

But now that I have remembered, I have some things I would like to express. It is the day before Christmas Eve, 2011. I am at work at Red Interactive, my new gig as of August of this year - I have finally managed to recover my "career" from the abort-mission in my late-20s that I performed on my movie FX path. I am very thankful for this team of people. Casual excellence. I am also thankful for my experience of nearly 3 years at Petrol, and for the humility I acquired in surviving for so long in such a demanding setting. It was, indeed, the army boot camp I tried to avoid per my father's recommendation to me in high school. But I do not miss that environment.

None the less, I have much work to accomplish today, so perchance I will be inspired to finish this update at some point during my short vacation. Love, Greg.

Shamanism

2011-02-26T18:48:00.000-08:00

I found an old journal from 2003 recently, and I was more than a little surprised to see just how...eclipsed I have become of my revelations from that era of my life.

All-the-while, I was aware that a certain a degree of jadedness had set in on me, mostly due to failed expectations and the experience of "getting old". But none-the-less, I still felt myself to be in-touch with my own enlightenment.

However, a strange sickness hit me suddenly, on President's Day, the day after I met Boris and Natalia Zhitomirsky's daughter Nikka. Whereas normally, I feel I have "caught a cold" from somebody or some behavior, this time, I couldn't come up with anything.

I was deeply disturbed however, from an experience I had that day: Natalia has a friend from northwestern china (Urumqi) named Ranum, who has a 10 year old daughter Nigara. Both of them are beautiful ladies, but Nigara took quite a liking to me this time and basically showered me with attention, laughter, and love. It was a radio frequency to a part of my heart which I had buried away.

Now the fact that a 5th grader sparked this feeling in me definitely left me feeling very concerned at my psychological well-being. I spent that evening smoking pot and freaking myself out, thinking like why am such a freak??

I fell asleep on the couch and I woke up in the morning with a cough that left me tasting blood. My first thought was, "You are KIDDING yourself if you think you have your smoking habit 'managed'. You are killing yourself."

Ugh. My body ached, so I proceeded to sleep it off, but it kept getting worse. By that evening, I was too sick to stand.

I missed two days of work, but by the end of the second day, as my visit to the doctor had confirmed, I was on the mend with no infection. I wasn't quite tired, so I scoured my bookshelves for something to read. I noticed a book I bought back in 2004 and had never read. "Chose By The Spirits", a guide book on becoming a Shaman. I had maybe tried to read it once, but it had seemed too practical for my paranormal-hungry self of that time, as well as from the Siberian family of Shamanism, which again, at that time, seemed outside my area of interest.

But now I have several friends from Russia, and in fact had just been spending time with Ranum, who grew up in the same culture as the author. So I began reading the book.

That night I fell asleep and had one of the most powerful dreams of my life. The first thing unique about it was that it started with me waking up within the dream. I woke up in Vegas-style penthouse motel room, although the size and lavishness of the room would shift dramatically. It was almost as if when you turning your head, you can't tell if the room is moving or your head is moving, because in this case, I would go to look under the bedside table but come back up to see the room had changed.

Somehow I *knew* this was the room of Jenna Jameson, but I have no idea how or why I knew that. Someone was in the shower, so I felt an impending sort of pressure to "do something" before they were done, but I didn't know what it was. Besides, as I got up and tried to do anything, the room would shift when I wasn't looking, and I was slowly becoming disoriented.

Per norm in dreams, none of this really bothered me yet. I didn't have the sense that anything was wrong...just typically difficult. To illustrate, at one point, the entire half of the room closest to the windows became *filled* with childrens stuffed animals. I think they were tigers of all shapes and sizes. When I would focus on anything, details would fill that area making it exponentially difficult to remain focuses on what I wanted.

I had managed to get myself over to the desk when the person from the shower appeared from the bathroom, except apparently there were two people in the shower, a middle-aged balding-and-buzzed sallow-looking shapeless white guy and his female counterpart. They just stared at me like cows. I was sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed closest to the window, and when I turned to look at it, now laying there was Jenna Jameson herself.

She was looking directly at me, she was very mandala-esque, meaning all around here were intricate patterns of light/cloth/form...and as I was looking at her, literally, her costuming would shift.

Then she became naked and began acting the way she is famous for acting, and for a few minutes it seemed like it was going to become one of those dreams. But just as I began to get excited, she did one of those "I AM ZUEL!" type of tricks and like pulled her pussy over her head or something incomprehensible...and transformed into a black-and-white asian-looking version of herself, complete with a tophat, white makeup, black gloves, and perhaps a long cigarette filter.

I looked to my right, out the window and I notice the skyline of Vegas...and a WHITE CAT who also seems to be wearing a sort of costume. The problem with this cat is that its hair is all flat and hard-looking, and its eyes are black marbles - it doesn't appear alive, it looks dead and stuff, although it is moving on its own.

By now, all the weirdness of the dream had added up and I begin feeling like, waaaait a minnnnnuuute, what the...

Just then, I looked down to see the cat had taken my whole pointer finger in its mouth and was sucking on it --

THAT WAS IT, I WOKE MYSELF UP.

Ever since that dream, I've felt different and I don't know how or why. It's almost like I'd totally lost my sense of purpose, trying to answer things like "Where should I live? Should I marry? Should I want kids? Will I ever be a successful artist?" And despite the repeated daily proposals of those questions, finding absolutely no answers.

Since the dream and being reminded of a very real spiritual world, I'm feeling hopeful again, excited for a task that is undeniably important to me and humanity.

But of course, I don't know how to proceed. So today, Saturday, I'm largely in the throws of regret, thinking about how Liz and Rhonda made their way into my life and how I so pig-headedly refused them.

I went to the book store to buy up a couple books. Borders in Glendale is closing and everything was 20% off, and I found a huge picture book of Frank Llyod Wright's houses, which was a steal for $50.

Beyond that, I feel like I need to remove smoking from my life. I'm afraid it will be rather hard, especially marijuana...but I've just been stoned for so many years now, I really don't feel I'm getting much out of it anymore. It feels like to really go further, I need to clean up.

#3

2010-12-22T22:26:00.000-08:00

I really can't do this - my whole life, your whole life, the
universe and everything NOW at this moment is my self-summary. lol,
serious! The more peace, chill, and environmentally friendly, the
better. Life is really really interesting, haha. What? I'm serious,
lol! Laugh!!

I stepped out of my childhood at, like, 28, blinked, and realized I
hadn't done much maturing since about age 4. So I've been trying to
work with that little misunderstood spirit by re-approaching him
without judgement and criticism. Listening, considering, laughing
because happiness is the best. Turns out he's all for my team, and
the relationship is improving. It's a peaceful easy feeling.

probably nothing at the end of the day, but I deeply enjoy
exploring my interests. The discovery is easily more enjoyable to
me than acquiring the title.

I have no idea, I resist the urge to believe that nearly everyone
has their own strange hodge-podge of hopes and desires, which they
project on my ass. My preference is you notice that I look a lot
like you...and we are both perfectly unique beautiful human beings
facing the challenge of life together.

I propose a new ritual for this section of OkCupid: Only list the
top 3-5 most recent love affairs of media, update regularly (you
always want to be fresh widdit)

Me?

- I heard Slightly Stoopid for the first time at Smokeout this year
LOVE 'EM

- Kid Cudi's new album

- Black Keys new album

I just love music. I listen to everything, from all times, from
around the world. I think my favorite part about dating is learning
of other people's favorite music.

my Soul.

the fact I have no idea who I am - everyday surprises the heck out
of me. I experience myself to be on a huge journey of
consciousness. I feel personally responsible for the state of
humanity on this planet, as if it must be a reflection somehow of
my own selfishness and greed. If that is true, then I possess the
ability to change the world by healing these ill qualities in
myself.

heading, at light speeds, for parallel dimensions where people live
like there is no tomorrow - celebrating life ya'll

I grew up in Montana in the country, for real, but I've spent a
greater portion of my life in Los Angeles - I consider myself a
city kid at this point, even though I understand something about
solitude that a city kid cannot.

you trust your heart and you're curious what it might be like to
conversate with me. I want to relate with you and vice versa - we
have value to share!

OkCupid Profile #2 - it works

2010-11-17T17:46:00.000-08:00

My Self-Summary
Uhm let's see: I'm a Pisces Dragon. I'm totally charming and a blast to be around when I'm up...and when I'm down, meh, just give me space and time to come back around, and I will.

What I’m doing with my life
I go dancing a lot because it makes me feel good. I'm always looking for innovative and groovy music scenes, of any genre or cultural background. I love exploring the city by transit, bicycle, and foot, going to events, mural hunting, eating (mmmmm)...and just always observing and admiring the similarities and differences among us in our great and diverse City of Los Angeles.

I’m really good at
lots of things! But I am great at being me! Balancing work/play, daily exercise, meditation, rhythm, diet, lounging, tobacco, 420, alcohol, sex, inspiration, reflection, hope, sharing, learning, teaching, and of course laughing.

The first things people usually notice about me
BLUE BLUE EYES, good fashion, tall, eccentric-looking. Strangers often ask if I am a musician. wtf? well, ok, I am.

My favorite books, movies, music, and food
Been reading auto-biographies lately. Anthony Kiedis "Scar Tissue" was excellent. Bob Dylan's "Chronicles Vol 1", Patty Smith's that came out recently about her love affair with Robert Maplethorpe.

I don't really search for movies/tv on my own, but I like pieces that are well-shot with complex stories and characters. Movies like dreams, trips, and those that illuminate the mystical qualities of existence. "Space Is The Place" is the last great movie I saw.

MUSIC is what gets me through life. I love everything, but I'm most into artists who make it like I would like to make it. Stuff that sounds like nothing you've ever heard before and is dance-inspiring. I don't care about genres, for example, Marty Robbins recorded in the 40s old southwestern gunfighter ballads, and these songs are incredible. Ben Wa is an underground collective of San Francisco musicians in the Primus/Buckethead scene that cut only two albums about ten years ago...one of which is called Devil Dub...out-of-print, and used copies run $80+ this album is just that good. Cumbia rules my world, but I also like latin pop - I once met Julieta Venegas before I knew who she was (and I liked her a lot). Bebe. I've rapped with Aceyalone. Wu Tang's 36 Chambers is about the most sick rap album ever, although I stand to be corrected. http://www.novaplanet.com/ is a French radio station that plays a great mix of new/old soul. Japanese rip-off bands are actually better than the originals in a lot of cases. I like Native American chanting and pow-wow beats, world beats in general. Cape Vert, Capoeira rhythms. Recently a friend of mine who grew up in Russia gave me about 10 albums of his favorite Russian music, and I'm telling you, these artists are still very much connected to their shamanic roots, because the music is POWERFUL. Lately, Dubstep as a genre has been blowing my mind...especially the Moontribe DJs. Oh and that new Black Keys album has really got a hook in me right now...I can't help it, I'm falling in love. :D

Food, mm, I love food, but I'm kind of bad about finding it. Movies and food, these are areas in which I need the help of a friend.

The six things I could never do without
my Soul.

I spend a lot of time thinking about
how everything has a relationship to everything else, and what does that all boil down to? Origins, social order, technology, industry, the manifest destiny of the human race...our planet, my family, other people's families, how government fails, how the wage-system is flawed - how we are the Gods of our own universii which came into existence as we formed in our Mother, and how She represents a being of power greater than our own godhood. I float up, I drift down. I find it all very exciting and I really don't take any of it very seriously. Just don't mess up my groove, foo'.

On a typical Friday night I am
Trying to balance my thirst for adventure and sport with good-sense and a commitment to my well-being. Lately, drawing a lot.

The most private thing I’m willing to admit
If you ask I'll tell you the truth, nicely.

I’m looking for

* Girls who like guys
* Ages 18-100
* Near me
* Who are single
* For new friends, long-term dating, short-term dating, activity partners, long-distance penpals, casual sex

You should message me if
- you are a beautiful person who trusts your heart
- you find joy in what synchronicity brings
- and you are yourself.
- doesn't hurt if you are a horny vixen either ;)

Been A Long Time

2010-11-12T17:25:00.000-08:00

I'm not sure who still checks in on my ramblings here on this site -- with the predominance of Facebook and its inter-connectivity, content on sites like Blogger just has no legs. However, for me, Blogger still serves as an archive of my published writings, and frankly, due to the bare-naked quality of these musings, I rather prefer that not everyone in my FB circle reads it.

Anyway, I have an hour before my lunch break, I'm comparatively sober, and emotionally detached. So I thought I'd do my best to write a little summary of where I feel I'm at within the scope of my life-dream.

Ya'll know I love music and have thrown myself at music with an all-eclipsing love. I dance better than ever. Once recently, at a Primus concert in fact, I asked my date (who was of cuban decent) if she knew Salsa - well, she's also Korean, Native American, and Caucasian, and so she said she did not...even though she can rave for two days straight. So in demonstration, I took only her one finger, did two steps to put her in the rhythm, and then turned her only using that one little finger. And I mean she snapped a 360 like I'd thrown a round-house kung-fu kick. I was quite proud of my energetic abilities.

To which, I might add: I'm in the best shape of my life. It continues to astound me every day the utter catastrophe of my childhood. I am shocked and beside myself that nobody recognized the awful trauma that derailed my physical maturation. I guess I didn't even really know myself, and so I never told anybody. It just happened so insidiously, one event leading to another, until one day I recognized that all the boys around me had grown big and strong while I was still sallow and weak. By this time and finding myself in another ridiculous predicament of abuse, I opted to let my father intervene, but the results were so humiliating that I vowed never to ask his help again.

Anyway, I am something of a celebrity in the local park, as my methods for correcting this past damage are an unusual-looking combination of gymnastics, martial arts, dance, yoga, and endurance exercise. Kids always want to come over and watch me and ask me what the heck I'm doing. Truly the highlight of my weeks usually are the conversations I have in the park with children and adults alike. The people of the world are good people.

I don't know the word to describe the feeling I have when contemplating this physical recovery of myself. To get here, I pretty much gave up everything of my former life. It's as if all those friends and lovers were in my life, willing to love me as the weak pathetic Greg...but when I stepped up and said I want to be more, they all shook their heads and said, "Well, then, that is our cue to be moving on."

Naturally, Rhonda probably best represents the energy of this migration, for she too is no longer in my life. But when I think about her, I can hear her saying, "Greg, we taught you all we could - the rest you have to do on your own."

So, I am amazed, like truly amazed at the profound mechanics and depth of life. I remember clearly that day in late 2005...I had been invited to Mitchel Snary's birthday party, at some bowling alley in Hollywood. He was still working in the movie industry, so I knew everybody at the party would be looking good and balling. I hadn't worked at a "normal" job in over a year, and frankly the time I had spent working I was stoned and just slipping through the cracks. So I remember, I got my favorite poor-boy meal from El Pollo Loco and hiked up to a favorite spot in Griffith Park. I remember thinking, on the way, "Fuck. I am depressed, my whole life has gone wrong." which is normal I suppose, but the intensity of the feeling was greater than ever before in my life. I couldn't remember ever feeling that way before that moment.

When I got to the top of the mountain, I smoked a joint, played on my drum for about 5 minutes before I just collapsed. Stoned, I then had an experience in which I felt that I died. Heck, if you go back through this blog, you can probably find the fresh description of the experience.

Anyway, what time has shown me is that this experience, although obviously "just-in-my-head" was altogether real. From that time, the only people I still have in my life are my family. Curiously, my old friend Caleb, my first co-worker friend in LA from 1996 made the hyper-space jump and is still around.

What is curious about that, actually, is that I met Caleb before the Sandra Chapter splintered all of my momentum into pieces. So he knew that young head-in-the-clouds, sky-is-the-limit Greg who had known no defeats in his adult life. As of late, I do feel a reversal in many ways. As if (like in time travel stories) some force outside the present tried to alter the path of my destiny, but despite said efforts, the impetus of the universe has eventually brought my life back around to its original path. So before I return to the subject of my love of energetic qualities of dance and music, let me digress:

My life in LA began in Burbank with my Aunt and Uncle (another coincidence, I work just down the street from their old house), but my personal life began in Pasadena, El Molino St. So let's add another layer of irony: Through FMG, I have come be accepted as an older friend to a generation of Pasadena kids. Hahaha, they were all like 5-7 years old when I moved to LA, but nevermind that. They are now the age I was when I came to LA.

I can't help but live vicariously through them - I imagine the life of youth, boredom, and frustration that I never had due to my engagement to Sandra and choosing an altogether CRAZY path.

Perhaps choice is not the right word. As I said, the trauma of my childhood had me so ill-prepared to achieve my dreams that life simply had to send me on a few GED courses to get me up-to-speed.

So what I'm saying is that I feel reborn. I feel as if I've been given a second chance to "land" in Los Angeles and live my dream. I fight an insane amount of bitterness though, because I realize now that there is no "better" path in life. Even though I was "traumatized" and all that jazz, EVERYBODY is similarly traumatized. None-the-less, there is a love story for everyone, no matter their sad childhood. My love story, between the extremes at which I experienced it, from Leticia to Liz, with honorable mentions to Holly, Cynthia, and even Sandra, was better than a guy could ever hope for. It leaves me angry at myself for having been unable to appreciate in the moment the sweetness of it. It leaves me fearful of myself, because in fact, I did appreciate the sweetness of it, and somehow through an equation of emotional mathmatics far too complicated for me to ever understand, it...played itself out -- and I wonder, is that simply the way of love? That thought leaves me cold and afraid to love again, which ices the whole process. I know I must love again, regardless. I must love again to live again, I must love again.

When I get into a self-reflective state-of-mind like this, actually I see the advantage I have in being older now. As a young person, you are such a target of fantasy. Everybody wants a piece of you in your 20s. But in your 30s, nobody really bothers - first of all, they can tell that you've already been around the block and probably recognize their schemes...secondly, they are worried that you might be crazier than they are.

So I have WAAAAAY more psychic space than I did in my 20s, which is probably the single most irritating thing I can remember about those years: I always felt this insane crunch on my time, which is why I never wanted to spend time at a job working. Because by the time I finished working, then finished necessarily hanging out with friends and lovers, there was almost no time left for ME. However, these days, work is my saving grace. Without work, I probably would go completely insane. Funny how things change. If I'd just known that my 30s would be a totally different dynamic, perhaps I could have just settled into my 20s? A person could lose their minds thinking about shit like this...

But it doesn't bother me so much any more - nothing like it used to. One, I have a good job, and having resources is not to be under-valued. Two, my employers are reasonable people. We have even had discussions about allowing me a 4-6 week leave-of-absence. So, in the meantime, it's about getting my creativity in a position to take advantage of such a break. And finally, three, although I have something of a social life, I do not have a girlfriend or a wife. My family, ah, well, suffice to say, they are 2000 miles away, and even then I have limited their involvement in my life...which is something I will analyze more later.

In sum, I have manifested for myself pretty much exactly what I thought I wanted: Space, time, and the freedom to be a great artist.

Which brings me back to love of music. I'm not sure why I love music so much - I am rather shocked and repulsed by the "music scene". I am even horrified at making a career of performance, just because it is so damned hard to do and so unappreciated generally...I mean, during my 15 years of watching live acts, I find that generally I am the only one really stepping up and getting involved with (as I heard Robert Moog say recently) "the on-the-spot community formed by live music". So, uh, people, if I'm on stage - who in the audience has got my back??

Actually until recently, this was the least of my worries. Just having material and being able to play well enough not to get booed off the stage has been my sole focus for 10 years. However, 6 months ago, I bought my first electric bass, and my music world is changed. I can fucking shred time and space with the bass. Yes, Ms.L, if you ever read this, you can pat yourself on the back for planting the seed in my mind - the talent and perseverance? lol, yah, well, I'll be taking credit for that.

I think the reason the bass comes so naturally is that (although most of you might not believe it) I can sing my dang head off. Smoking has dramatically increased my lung capacity by necessitating deeper breathing (you kill off the upper reaches of your lungs and you simply learn to breath deeper to continue living...until you reach the bottom of your lungs, at which point you have emphysema and then have to use an oxygen tank, daaaang, ain't technology sweeet?). Greater breath control = greater singing ability. It's all very simple. (Except for the addictive qualities and tendency to smoke way too damn much...lol) Anyway, singing is melodic in nature, meaning you sing only one note at a time and then proceed to the next note - bass is the same way for the most part. Although I dearly love ripping a bass power chord progression and knocking down a couple walls in China >:D

So bass has opened up a whole new level of confidence and possibility. I don't know what the next stage is, except that I'm hungry for more sonic power, not just volume, but riding a bigger wave, as could only be created by playing with other musicians. With bass I finally feel like there is a place for me in practically any band. I may be suffering from cocky ignorance of what a "real" bass player is capable of doing, but I sort of feel that I have a funky-ass groove that could transform any band from a bland top-40 oriented effort into a dub-stepping desert-rave-crushing modern-era-Grateful-Dead. Well, I'm in no hurry - the more time that passes, the better I get.

So I'm totally stoked about music. I can't help but hope that this is my chance to live the dream of playing and touring and all that biz. But we will see. I have been told by my spirit guides that it takes "lifetimes" to get to that level. So I recognize that in this life music will probably be yet another exciting chapter en route to the dream.

Now art and drawing is something else. I honestly feel myself to be a modern master. However, I am indignant, indignant I tell you at not being recognized. Yes, I understand curators are not going to chase me or beat down my door, and so I have been working on a body of work worthy of a gallery. When I am ready, I will find the right gallery. However, frustratingly, each new piece I do outshines the previous, so although I have done hundreds of incredible drawings, I feel only about 5 of them are truly epic. Plus, in order to present in that type of space, I need to do a lot of work on each piece to make it appear worth thousands.

For which I need money, and although I have been making great money for almost 4 years, the debt I accumulated while making my career change has been disabling me up until recently when I finally paid off the last of my outstanding taxes. My financial obligation to Liz's health care is also resolved - so as of the next paycheck, I will finally be able to pocket all of my profit.

First things first - I need a new computer. My baby, my beautiful warrior laptop - that Compaq Presario has been begging me to die for well over 2 years, and God Bless her, she held on because she knew I couldn't afford a new computer. But now I can, and SO CURIOUSLY now she has collapsed and is basically RIP.

Once I have the new computer, I'm hoping a bunch of creative endeavors will become easier, including: 1) just being able to chill with the ENTIRE music collection instead of whatever I can cram onto the iPhone at one time, 2) migrating jams from my iPhone to my site for sharing purposes, 3) working up my best art pieces to a gallery-ready finish, 4) I have a fabulous idea for re-telling the Peter Pan story, and I want to write that in my spare time (impossible to write with that sticky, crash-causing keyboard), and (take a nice deep breath ya'll), 5) FINISHING KINGNITRAM.com!!

Since starting on this journey, I have built the entire game engine THREE times. Yes, that is basically the entire original King Nitram site, rebuilt 3 times - that doesn't include major revisions, of which there were at least 2-3 on each version. Each time done faster and with more knowledge of how to properly build such an application.

This time I have put aside Flash/AS3 entirely and invested in the standards PHP/MySQL -> HTML/JS/CSS, which I believe will remain standards for years to come. Plus, with the professional expertise I have acquired, I am confident that this iteration is modular enough to drive nearly any client-side revision of the architecture. What I'm saying is THIS IS IT. I'm building this version to launch and scale. I have a huge group of young Facebook-using friends - if the idea ever had any merit at all, they will adopt it, and from there, it will peter out, or it will explode. Either way, I will be soooo relieved to be free of that whole "punk genius" escapade.

One curious thing to note, Mark Zukerberg was writing the first version of Facebook at the same time I was writing the first version of King Nitram. It is reassuring to know that, without knowing, I was very much right in-sync with the social consciousness. Naturally I could never have been the guy to write Facebook in 2004 - but that wasn't my goal. I never imagined myself to be at the helm of such a mainstream social engine. KingNitram always sought to bridge the mainstream with the darkside. And anyone who has used Facebook (and misses MySpace) can attest that the darkside is remorsefully absent on FB. So now is a better time than ever to launch. In fact, with the incredible API that hubs like Facebook have created, the labor involved with producing this version of KN.com is significantly less. Then with my pro-level knowledge of web, building an iPhone or Droid version would totally manageable.

So I can't wait. If granted my leave-of-absence, it will be KN.com on which I focus most of my energy. Of all my ventures, I still feel this is the most likely to create monetary freedom for my preferred creative endeavors. The time is actually better now than it was five years ago for this idea to launch.

That is where my life is at. I work my ass off. I've really been blessed with a huge opportunity of self-awareness. Although that experience initially has been nothing but sorrow and regret at what I've forsaken, I am coming to grips with the decisions I made and forgiving myself. My face is aging terribly, so I've been spending a lot of my energy relaxing & resculpting my facial expressions so that they match better my true sentiments. I used to rely entirely on youth and charm, believing these things were necessary to make people like me or to have my way with people. It wasn't even true, but regardless, I have mostly lost both of those things (charm I hope to revive someday), so I practice contentedness and expecting nothing of people. I like where I live. I moved WAY WAY WAY too much as a kid and never got a chance to get my bearings and strike my own course. Now I'm settling. Not in a way that feels like a life-sentence, just chilling until I'm ready to go somewhere new, or life presents an opportunity to change. I'm a stoner in my free time, which sometimes I am ashamed of - but when I stop smoking, although my head does clear, I tend to get so uptight and mental that I give myself migraine headaches and injuries. It sounds laughable because so many people play the "medical necessity" angle, but for a personality like me, wildly emotional, swinging high and low, weed sort of relegates that swing to the right time and context, ie, after work. I've done the whole trip. I've worked at companies where it was ok to be stoned at work - that sucked. I've worked at companies that it was required to be stoned - that really sucked. I've known and know people who are stoned 24/7, and I know I am not those people. I have my dosage worked out, it really feels like practice managing moods and tendencies which if left to simmer in the bg end up exploding in my face. Honestly, I quite sure ciggies do me more harm. Weed's negative is that it fuddles the mind. But then again, that is also it's greatest benefit. If you are the type to believe that everything in life is to be achieved via the rational intellect, then I have nothing to say to you. Personally, I believe everything in life is achieved via the Spirit, the mind is just a witness. And in my case, a happy'n'high witness. Bob Dylan says, "People ask me why I'm drunk all the time? Well cuz it eases my mind! I ease down the road, stroll, and sing, I see better days and I do better things." Ya'll know it's true - you get the most exercise when you drunk. ADMIT IT.

So that's it - I get pretty damn lonely sometimes, but I counsel myself that clearly I have proven not only to ya'll, but to myself: I am my generation's ARTIST character. This is my role. Show me another mother fucker with my type of talent who could pass on so many gorgeous and loving women and the rich lives they offered me - you can't do it. I earned this position in the pantheon, and now I intend to live the dream.

peace and carrots

greg

An Interpretation of Myself

2010-09-22T11:32:00.001-07:00

Have no doubt, I am a magic man. My proof is as deep as you dare to penetrate. I draw, play music, dance, sing, write, garden, and rock crafts of all types - I build this internet nation because I am other-worldly, and I have more to give this time and place -- An athlete, a warrior, a scholar, a citizen and a Chief. I walk freely in the cities, and I live contentedly in the forests. I have the body of an immortal, a mind in my control, and a soul that is free.

:P

And! Believe it or not, I am totally humble! I love all people for your myriad existences, I study you with awe and admiration. I know very well that you have confronted everything and survived everything to be here - and I know how our hearts just ache over it all...so each smile, each clever turn-of-phrase, each sexy strut...I see you as a triumph of Spirit. Your style and personality - you inspire me and make me feel pride in humanity. I love you! Dig? I want to meet more of you! Da me da me da me maaaaaas por favor!

Ok here goes...This is bound to kill off about 97% of you lovely ladies whom otherwise would surely fall madly in love with me --- but in this day-and-age of false pretense {modern-slang:"creepers";},
HONESTY should be hotter than anything else. Well here it is: I know my soul-mate, my Queen. Yes, she's a real woman, the yin to my yang, the flame of my candle, yahda yahda yahda - for real, the mind-reading, the knowing of our true selves, all of it. Yah. Found her and proceeded to fly it straight into the ground. lol, damnit.

Check your emotions and read:

THE PROBLEM is that we live in a world of physical, emotional, spiritual complications AND TIME - call that baggage, call it karma, call it whatever...ya'll know how it is...there are...things, obstacles between the union of two souls occupying different bodies...

Same for everybody, right?

People often choose to work thru this together, over the course of a lifetime. I guess that's what a lot of people really dream of doing, right here on okcupid, and some succeed, and they inspire the whole dang world! Hahah! That's the program a'ight!

But then - you've seen it too many times - how the magical qualities become over-shadowed by the conflict until at some point, we have another couple of co-habitating, lonely, misunderstood people...going out into the world every day just hoping to spy a fraction of the real thing. Developing those misanthropic hobbies, friendships, and head-trips to entertain, not actually free to move on anything, and in a nutshell, miserable. Eeeek. Take me out, Chief!

As soon as we realized the same thing was happening to us also, we decided to split while our love was still pure. We liberated each other so that we could go anywhere, be anyone, and do anything necessary to keep ALIVE this experience of true love.

Now, if any of you made it to here, and are thinking, "wtf is he talking about his ex for - @#&$!" then I politely gesture toward your own past and ask, "Upon what history are you standing? Own it, share it. If you're unwilling to, then it suggests to me you are fictionalizing yourself for the sake of some fantasy. And It is the only chance of even knowing another person."

There are no ideals or standards which fit our generation - we live in an era totally unique in the course of human evolution. Those that are interested in seeing the light will transcend the duality and conflict, and the rest will continue fearing the coming 'zombie apocalypse' or whatever - I'll be in Atlantis or some other dimension by then, hopefully with you, sweetheart. Fly!

I think I've pretty much covered that - what I'm NOT good at is remembering trivia and facts. I sometimes whip up a great improvisational meal, but in all honesty, I'm not a very good cook, although I love good food. I am terrible at playing roles, or pretending to be something I'm not...

BLUE BLUE EYES, good fashion, tall, eccentric-looking. Strangers often ask if I am a musician. wtf? well, ok, I am.

This is the best part about meeting new people!! - I love it all, I want to hear your favorite music, and read your books, and go to your restaurants -- that's why I'm sitting on a gold mine already, because I've known a lot people with GREAT TASTE in all aspects of culture. But I guess this sort of thing is important to people, so, one of these days, I'll put together a list of my greatest influences. eeeek, what a task.

Listen, if your cup is full, your cup is full - if not, it is ready to be filled again with fresh. Life is a win win, and I'm not insensitive to the value of what is past, but. We are here now.

Love. and how everything has a relationship to everything else, and what does that all boil down to? Technology, industry, the manifest destiny of the human race...our planet, my family, other people's families, how government fails, how the wage-system is flawed - how we are the Gods of our own universii which came into existence as we formed in our Mother, and how She represents a being of power greater than our own godhood. I float up, I drift down. I find it all very exciting.

Trying to balance my thirst for adventure and sport with good-sense and a commitment to my well-being. Lately, drawing a lot.

Since 97% of you are already lost to me, this is probably as close as we are going to get - so it is now time, my Lovely, to slip in, and get out...if you know what I mean - I admit that I have been mystified, confused, and clumsy about sex all my life. I will also admit that I have been the best student of tantra ever to walk this land of nubien bountilicious mountains of the yummiest, softest, most undulating and wonderful rhythm ever to have swayed the ocean, planet, or cosmos AND I swear to you, that I'm getting better and better with age -- you might want to scheck it out while the physical is still in top condition...otherwise I guess you'll have to just read the book, study the prints, and wonder about who that King Nitram guy really was.

RE the Spirit World

2010-07-19T00:02:00.000-07:00

I won't even talk to people who don't acknowledge the very real Spirit World.

However, how the "spirit world" operates, is a matter of great misunderstanding among those that do acknowledge its reality.

For example - a house is claimed to be haunted...therein lies a spectrum of actual possibilities, ranging from, ma-fuckin' house IS HAUNTED BY THE DEAD, to, if you planted some bamboo right outside that window, the visual of your neighbors would not enter your consciousness so strongly and you would not feel so co-habitated with strangers.

The Spirit World. And you. ha lol

Who Am I These Days?

2010-07-16T20:42:00.000-07:00

Perchance someone cares? Or perhaps I still just like to say it loud and clear, sometimes?

I still have a passion to let my passion run wild, to live in the moment so fully that consequence is not a consequence, where I am Spirit with body and mind to administer this ineffable experience, formed exclusively of my pleasure.

And Love.

Which does utterly shape everything conceivable by the greater and lesser bodies of consciousness. Love,(I mean every dimension, inter-planetary, time-bending, water-walking, thought-reading, food-eating, sex-having, war-making, love-taking, magic-dealing MOMENT, seen by you or not...it is because of love-YESssss!).

It holds it all together like an ocean of glue, and yet! Only due to our witness of it does it even exist! When anything, especially a person, dies to love, we all suffer greatly. Fact. Therefore, it should be our only heart-felt ambition, then, to see one who is lost-of-love back to love. Soooo simple, my friend - the world is full of lives, in various states, and in fact, the world itself yet another, yearning to return to love. In times of personal doubt and despair, the only faith one need have is to know that the return to love IS the Single Wish, the Single Desire, the Single Purpose & the Single Destiny of the Universe. There is nothing else to do or be done, it is happening presently, and can be as abundantly documented as you have energy to discover.

Wish to see the world back to love, and this will make the world feel good, not just for the world, but for You who is loving the world. heeeeee sheeeeee!

The Present Ahora

2010-06-19T01:43:00.000-07:00

( I am inspired to write again thanks to a friend )

The Present, the NOW.

Linger, please, linger.
Come here to the light
Still lines and soft curves
I sight silhouette the my night (sooo right),
I can hear your heart beat
unsaved you are by I and I by you as well
But I can comprise and doth shine
The Best Essence of my self
For you to love and to see demised

Bless you hombreto Carlos, little Carlos

2010-06-09T00:50:00.000-07:00

I haven't seen you in 3 1/2 years, and now you tell me you are entering 9th grade - freshman!!

Well, sir Carlos, I hand it over to the young generation. No one I've ever met in my life time, older than you, has been able to rock it and rest it and put it to bed the way you did. Bravo.

This is your heritage, even if only I am here to present it to you: Do what you dream with this gift, and let it be your peace.

I take from you a lesson of my own, a passion of the dream, and the chance to manifest it NOW. May I borrow this strength of Spirit to bring forth a message? This message of whose reception I hope to be made a first-hand witness. I wish to be privvy to the path more peacefully travelled, the path more harmoniously enjoyed - the path of joyful thankfulness and abundance. I wish to see love and respect, honor that understood mutually by all. For it is not an honor of nationality, or race, it is one of human life, as communicated to us in similarity and contrast to the animal kingdom, the plant kingdom, the bird kingdom, insect, micro-y-macro-scopic, and mythical worlds. A curious show of gratitude, individually presented. This is my prayer. For myself and for all.

Amen.

The Artist Must Always Die First

2010-06-06T02:17:00.000-07:00

Yah.

Yah, uh-hummmmmmm, yep.

YEPPERS,

done.

It is like a curse, a commitment of spirit from the past, in the present, haunting me. I cannot go forward.

The homeless black man on the Metro, chants, "I can't let you go, Mama - YES YOU CAN."

I can go forward. I GO FORWARD.

But in what form? And to wherefore shall I go?

TO LOVE.

And so I go.

Camera magnified the essence inside
And from this vision emerged
A Love so pure and pure and pure
It seemed to live and live
I granted her this one opportunity
To glimpse inside,
She saw what she wanted to
And she ran and she hide
I know not why the sun does rise
But we all rely upon it, the birds singing in the night,
Do sing that song of reliability
That tomorrow doth come
And all must follow,

And so I go and go
I go and goooo
I go and goooo
AND I GO

Away from you,
away from you
away from you
and all the things you do

For me,
For me,
For me-eeeee-eeee,
Oh Oh oh.

We talk about this again
of that conversation
I see again and again
of Lovers' toil
in the fold of the night.

I'll see you again
annd aggain and again
Look for me tomorrrow night
Again and again
Again and again

We at last we doth do reappear
Let it be the final hour
And let my heart speak loud
That I loved and loved
and I loved and loved
I loved and loved
until there was no more Me to judge.

I loved and loved
I loved and loved
I loved and loved
Until there was no meaning left to judge,

I loved and loved
I loved and loved
I loved and loved,
Until there was no meaning to this kludge.

LOVE
LOVE
LOVE

To WELLS FARGO (and the banking institution):

2010-03-25T22:36:00.000-07:00

Corporate Offices
Wells Fargo
420 Montgomery Street
San Francisco, CA 94104

To Whom It May Concern,

In this modern day-and-age, I recognize the insignificance of my single letter amidst the horde of email, spammers, robots, and junk mail. But I must speak.

The reason for my query is of complaint, one directed at the heart of banking. Because I am hardly even a customer to Wells Fargo, rather a single digit in a huge tabulation aimed at the bottom line, I know my complaint is doomed to have no effect what-so-ever. In fact, I can rest assured the greatest hope for this letter may be to entertain some of my very own low-wage, desk-sitting, computer-working, co-worker types. You know who I am, and btw, that cute one in the office, she slept with me (and never told her boyfriend) right after she told our jack-ass of a boss to shove it. I don't care if you believe me or not, haha! Maybe my style will earn a couple lols, or even an LOL.

My complaint is simple:

You charge people who have run out of money THIRTY FIVE DOLLARS every time you ALLOW them to use their check card in overdraft.

I want to reach the person whose job it is to say( when he/she is feeling consciencious: ), "Yup, that's what banks have always done - it's a big hassle to deal with juggling all that money, little loans essentially, and that's how Wells Fargo continues to handle it." ( and when he/she is feeling honest: ) "GadDAMN! we're making so much #&$^ing money off these idiot blue-collar slave-driven pleabians who refuse to learn how to 'manage their wealth'!!"

Or not? Is it possible your numbers are so big, you just don't realize that your fees are too high on the little people? Somehow I doubt it. When Queen Bitch Manager Lady will listen to me throw a 30 minute tantrum over of the phone and not budge a dollar, I have to think somebody put these numbers in place for a reason.

If you are that person, with that authority, I want YOU, sir, to stop for a few moments and seriously consider the moral consequences of charging such an exorbitant sum on...who is most likely to become overdrawn?...why....POOR PEOPLE, sir. People who already cannot afford life until their next paycheck.

The mechanisms exist for blocking a card - you seem to have no trouble blocking cards all the time for any number of reasons other than saving us from overdraft. Or even still, how about you make the fee relate to the size of the overdraft? or charge a flat fee for every 24 hour period the account is over-drawn? All I am really asking is that you make some gesture of consideration towards us --

What? Why, yes, I have "overdraft protection" - let's see, hmm, wait, an additional account, with additional fees and obligations, AND a $10 fee for an AUTOMATED TRANSFER OF MY OWN FUCKING MONEY?!! PER OVERDRAFT?? ASSHOLES!!! That's what I'm talking about. I so sick of being victimized this way, like I'm a fucking idiot to live and participate in my own society. It just sucks to not even feel pride for that which my own people built.

My point is, you set it up this way because you can, nobody can stop you, and it's a regular landslide of revenue. Yay, for your team, yay for the invention of cancer.

If you are one of those people who have any ability to affect the corporate consciousness in regard to this, you must either quit your job now, or begin to make reparations by whatever means available to you. Because as it stands, there are millions of afflicted energies who have wished you to Hell hundreds of times over for this negligence and greed. I am quite sure there is no peace in your life, no matter what you might tell yourself -- when the day comes you depart for that which doth come next, you may find nothing comes next and that this life of torment you just finished living was the only one you would ever have. That is going to be a very very sad day for you friend. I am begging you, DO SOMETHING NOW.

Sincerely in hope for YOU, sir,

Greg Connell
a "customer"

Interesting Dream

2010-03-04T08:44:00.001-08:00

It's been a cold, long spring in Los Angeles this year. Last night was significant because I published my first EP of newly recorded material Back To Tascam. I realized as I was catching myself wanting for recognition, that such an event is really the expectation of a media-centric culture. Before recorded media, the notion of a musician becoming anything beyond his ability to perform was impossible. And yet, we made music, we dedicated our entire lives to it, in the same way musicians do today. The obvious fact that I do this for love of music and nothing else came through in a happy sense, and being able to publish my own album has its own satisfaction.

I went to bed early. I awoke at first light, more than an hour ahead of my alarm. I noticed the storm had cleared up and it would be a nice day. I went back to sleep and had a very interesting dream.

I was riding down to the beach, through a dark daytime LA. I was on Jefferson Blvd, for I remember crossing Wilshire and wondering which street I was on, for which there was a sign neated painted into my mind.

It was not a bicycle, but one of those miniature motorcycles that the kids in the neighborhood fool around on. My right hand was forward on a stearing yoke, and my left hand was reaching back on a brake. The vehicle felt pretty unsteady, particularly as I started going down larger-than-life grades to the beach.

My speed became perilous, but I thought, well, as long as I don't crash, this is fun, so don't crash. The entire road became free of obstacles, and I cut wide corners in order to attack the slope at the smoothest grade.

There was a big event on the beach, and someone's property. I didn't feel a part of this scene, and so I loitered around, waiting for something to happen. At some point, a big skinny, shaggy dog appears and seems friendly to me. I get worried that he is homeless and I wonder how in the heck I'm going to get him home on my mini-moped.

A little while later, my brother Thomas is with me in the dream. It is nice to have him there. Somehow we have sort of transitioned into this beach house -- it is all very open, from the bathroom to this yard. Actually, the yard reminds me of that big courtyard property to the south of the old bungalows at 854 Sanborn.

Anyway, as Tom and I are chilling on a couch, I'm getting sleepy (in my dream, haha). As I drift off, I am watching a whole bunch of brightly colored baby parakeets hanging out in the tree above us. They seem to form into individual cocoons and come closer and closer to my face. I sort of wake up as I am falling asleep at this phenomenon of birds cuddling closer and closer to my face.

Somehow a transformation happens and the parakeets have been reborn, all as different varieties of birds. I notice one in particular, the curvature of its beak, the perfect meeting of upper beak to lower beak.

I looked up parrot medicine when I got to work:

The parrot is an alert bird with a good temperament. They are very intelligent and have been taught to mimic humans. A bird which can speak the human language is considered to be a link between mankind's world and the world of nature. They serve as a bridge in which both can cross to gain a deeper understanding about one another. This understanding allows both kingdoms to live in harmony.

One of the most outstanding features of the parrot is its range of coloring. Parrots invoke a sense of hope and promise. Just looking at its brilliant feathers gives us a feeling of excitement and wonder. For those who identify with this totem opportunities to renew their dreams and visions are offered.

Parrots teach us the power of magic. Their feathers are used in healing rituals to invoke the properties of color and light. Color and light therapy have been used by many native tribes to heal the sick or injured. For those with this totem the study of its colors will reveal a lot about yourself.

Parrots can be very vocal or very quiet depending upon the situation they are in. In humans this indicates an innate ability to know when to voice ones opinion and when to be silent. Lessons associated with discernment are always present in a parrot medicine person. The parrot is a feel good bird and is a great ally in healing depression. When the parrot flies into your life it is asking you to recapture the magic of living. It is time to enjoy your life and all it holds.

Native Art Spirit

2010-03-01T14:58:00.001-08:00

I'm reading Just Kids by Patti Smith -- an auto-biography about the life-long love affair between herself and Robert Mapplethorpe, the controversial-if-not-appropriate fag artiste extraordinaire of the 80s.

She assuredly describes her adventures of youth in the New York City Art Culture of the late 60s and 70s. She expresses an unspoken confidence in the value of that whole scene, which, myself as an artist, removed as I am by a generation, have only experienced as sad reproductions. I have found all 'scenes' to be lacking in the genuine essence. I have found far more often hordes of people who are searching (and being duped at their own discretion) by vampires seeking not to recreate the authenticity of that culture, but the imagined fruits of experience: The sex, drugs, and rock'n'roll lifestyle.

I've found the whole lot of it to be so off-putting that I've detoured my own artistic development alway from those derivitive scenes with such gusto that I have even come to doubt the sincerity of my blood as the type of a True Artiste.

But despite all insecurities, I have perversely dodged all commitments and paths that would take me to any life other than that of an artist, therefore...! At this point, I can no longer doubt my destiny! Regardless of my flip-flopping mind, some greater intent is at work, manifesting my heart's true desire:

To be an Artist! To be a poet! With this guitar you worship, like sparrows like breeze, like sunshine likes trees, I split heaven asunder, revealing something even more deeply under.

This path is really the only imaginable outcome that is not another blight on humanity due to milk-fed artist-fancied-inclination gone selfishly awry.

The artist is not a path or term to be taken lightly -- it is, done correctly, a most important service to humanity.

Lest I divulge into a rant, change gears? Shall we?

Native American Spirit.

I will use this term to describe, simply, a quality of living, appropriate to the landscape in which one exists.

I live in Los Angeles, and have a somewhat jaded 15-year perspective, mostly due to the class and power distribution I see. I am disturbed by the lives that people tend to lead in order to make some play at a lifestyle that ought to be presumed to be guaranteed.

Whereas the Spirit I'm talking about is obviously everywhere open to everything, in Los Angeles I feel more personally the spirit of the people who are directly descended from those traditions which did indeed honor the landscape, the weather, and the seasons.

This pertains in several ways and in other ways that I cannot explain; I just know that I am deeply perplexed with this social situation. I feel that the subjugation of the native american people is the most grossly overlooked event in our very, very recent history, and continues, daily, as brutal and unrepentant as it ever was on the Trail of Tears.

Again, for most of you, this is the boy crying wolf -- but I say: Ohhhh, it is sooooo easy to say this life is good enough as is, when what might be better has been sequestered from ever happening in our lifetime! Nice! What proof does that leave me to debate? My arguments are dreams! Fantasies! Ha!

In Montana, what most would expect to be the last vestiges of the Wild West, there was, I'm sorry to say, little to no living Indian Heritage available. Sure, there are the token trinket stores, rock shops, and trading posts...but not much to convince a young German-Irish boy of the original magnificence of this great nation of people. The Reservations (and their schools' athletes' ability to glide in under 17-minute 3-mile cross-country events) was my only indication that my history book's suggestions were incorrect that the American conquest had not utterly eradicated this race of people.

To illustrate:
I remember seeing, perhaps as a sophomore, near the University of Montana and Sentinel High School track (curiously just off of Deerborn, where my brother and his wife now live) this dark-skinned boy drift in to the final 400 meters of a 3 mile race -- I remember watching the pattern of his feet as he ran: It looked like the creation of embroidery, it looked like he was stitching the ground to the horizon, with astounding speed and perfect accuracy. And yet, his chest was not pumping, his face was not flushed...he appeared to be in a perfect state of calm, as if the wind were propelling him and all he had to do was move his legs in this beautiful pattern.

Another occaision:
I played tennis all through high school and even won Montana State Doubles with my best friend during my senior year. However, as a junior, I played singles, and I was terrible. I became so ensconced in the psychology of competition, that I literally would fall to pieces in a real match.

Well, on this particular day, we had travelled to Ronan, a small town a long ways between the city I was born in, Kalispell, and Hamilton where I was going to High School. I had been through this town perhaps dozens of times in my life, but never had we stopped, never had we spent the entire day, as our tennis team was now doing. It was a rare Montana spring day -- very warm and sunny. The courts were heated, which made my body feel good.

The boy I was to play was an indian. I can say this because in my high school I remember only one black and if there were any nativos, they had so mastered the art of invisibility, this white boy never even saw them. However, on this bright day of competition, I saw him -- he was to be my rival.

I won the match that day( 6-4, 6-4 ), a pro-level score, which was extremely odd for two reasons: One, my opponent was far better than me. Two, I played my best, which I had almost never done in competition. The reasons for this victory, I could spend hours indulging in analysis, but I will summarize in the following way:

My energy connected with him. I can say now, with far more experience, that we traded abilities that day -- he inherited my clumsy mental dilemma and I his effortless and untrained agility.

It felt like a dream but in real life, where we agreed to the following: He said, "I the have natural ability to play well, so play well like me!" and I said to him, "I am sensitive to the mental subterfuge white people wage, so be sensitive like me!" He shared with me his ability and I shared with him my sensitivity.

I mention this story for the following reason: The Native American Spirit is much deeper than any of its conquistadores ever fathomed. Not because Europeans are apes, or act like heathens or devils (all human beings are animals), but because they had simply forgotten that Spirit is not the brains gimp!! lol!! >:D

Remember that, Europe had been fighting down the Humanists (let's just say, Folks-Who-Live-By-Magic-Not-By-Science) with Reason (books & steal - to which the common people were powerless and called polytheistic by their agressors but for the number of ways they could pray for mercy) for centuries. Therefore, quite naturally, successive generations of Europeans were further and further distanced from the metaphysical conditions of existence. When no words exist in the language to describe a commonly understood entity, when no Elders are given respect & priviledge of Wisdom, when God-As-Interpretted-By-Printed-Word is made more powerful than The Mother & Father...children become confused and lost by the industrially rigid constructs of the universe -- you might also say unhappy, or unsatisfied.

Therefore, while Europeans did a jig on the indigenous peoples of the world, they really fraked themselves even more. They connected every continent, strung eyes, academia, and questage for knowledge and power back into the oceans, the continents, the jungles, the mountains, the poles, the atmosphere, the moon -- touching everything everywhere! And that is their last several thousand years of history.

And now, can you believe the shock a child feels at finding his forefathers the purveyors of such bloody extremes? Having acquainted himself of every concept and every philosophy of every culture, cross-indexed,...and only to find himself spent and with no peace? To find all that he had touched, had withered? To find himself responsible for the subjugation of all peoples, the pollution, and the malnutrition of Mother Earth? Woe be this man! Hahaha!

You can be sure, a lot of people have had really bad trips on acid for this reason. They catapult right into military and christianity(the religion not the faith) and drunkenly left into anarchy and mindlessness(the insanity not the peace).

The rest of us adopt the oh-so-highly-regarded "Middle Ground", doing as our most esteemedly recorded wise old men suggested. We choose applicable professions, fall in love, get married, have kids, enjoy life marginally, and die. And all the while, we appear recomspent as to why "why-oh-why" are we here? Why are we enduring this great responsibility and sorrow? And to this question, we are usually answerless! I say - but for the extremes of religions and insanity / faith and peace...answerless!

And yet the answer is plain to see: A relationship of love is at hand! An affair as however it desires to be manifested, for the experience and benefit of all! How exciting and worthy!

And how curious! How mysteriously charming, beguiling, alluring, and passionate must then be the Spirit who can sidestep the very best thrust of this Empire which holds the planet's fate in it hand? How wonderful that it is safely untouchable, yet speaking freely and personally to us in our hearts?

I did not find this love in my European heritage, but for the environment I lived in and our musicians, writers, and artists. Art was indeed a lifeline, but I experienced this love by way of the seasons, weather, and daily joy exclusively.

What caused me to lose sight of this heritage? Was it simply that I have a head and a heart for drama? For suffering? For becoming this semi-beloved figure of tragedy and self-discovery? For being the cause of an industry of speculation and copulation? And ultimately, the cause of war?

Yes, I have been. I believe I have maintained belief patterns and behaviors which are the very same as those mindsets which caused said events. Yes, and I believe I am responsible.

Except I do not believe this is all my creation. I am not under the grand illusion that if I abandon these egocentric behaviors, the world will erupt or collapse.

Rather, I believe confidently, if I take seriously the reign of my life, in consideration of this vast web which has bounced me back from a directionless trajectory, the world will make known and available to me the avenues which lead to its resussitation.

Like so, as written by Jamie Sams:

Sacred dawn of my spirit's fire
I open beyond self-centered desire
I choose to serve and to be
A shining example for all to see
I honor the spirit in all living things
And commit to the life that honesty brings
I seek the truth that lives in me
And respect the truths that others see
I give to others with a happy heart
Asking no return for gifts I impart
I open my heart to those in need
Walking my path, as I plant love's seeds.

That is why I make such haughty allusions to the Native American Spirit. The notions which can heal our land and our world culture, attitudes that are not violent or destructive. They are peace, in a language of nature, and they are most similar to the wisdom of the American Indian. And it has been in Los Angeles that I have come to know many living legends of this spiritual tradition.

Indeed! The spirit is everywhere, and that is why no more losers need move to Silverlake -- the resurgence can be found in your flowerbed, in a local hike, and most powerfully, in the handling of your love affairs.

If you have read this, I genuinely thank you and hope you have a nice day.

Peas and Carrots,
Greg Connell
2010 Feb 27
Highland Park

Her, Ella, mi amor

2009-12-06T02:51:00.000-08:00

cold room, door shut
MEN CREATED THIS WORD CALLED SLUT
it is nothing
it is nothing
it is nothing
what what what?

soft touch, lesson learned
her absence tends to burn
it is a love thing, yes,
it is a love thing. Mm-hm.
it is a love thing...
yeeeeeeeeeeeees, it is a love thing.

again samba ('gain samba ride, 'gain samba ride)
again samba, YEH!

Fiction is as fiction does
what it says to you
you will do ( and do )
you will do ( and do )
you will do ( oooooooooooo! )
to make it come true!

Forbidden fruit is what they say
But I don't eat fruit honey
get out of my way
wey, I am making a date
to play and play
play and play.

A Mandate for Myself

2009-11-30T22:56:00.000-08:00

Oh Greg, you sorry fool! How you have squandered and lost sight of your dream in the slings and arrows of Los Angeles life. But you are 33 and all is not lost!

You are from the mountains. You were born there, you grew up there, and most everything you know to be real, you learned in nature.

Remember Rye Creek? Please never forget the pleasure you found there. For that matter meditate on your north country home daily, and if that is becoming difficult, use your beautiful Highland Park yard, and SoCal nature opportunities to remind yourself. Even better drop the cash and fly up for a 3 day weekend. You have a very wonderful future ahead of you where your heritage is concerned, Indio, so you must nurture it. I know you feel distracted in the city, so exercise outside, working in your yard, trips to the beach and mountains and desert...these are crucial things that you must find time to do.

You are a crazy long ways from home. It's ok. Yes, you went to the city seeking gratification and mass acknowledgement of your talent; don't berate yourself -- it was the right thing to do! Had you stayed, can you imagine the horrible stench your family would have endured as the passion in yourself( which you have come to know intimately )smouldered, imagining of the possibilities which were never explored? It would have been a sin.

True, you have been reduced to a pathetic shadow of your potential, probably just as low as if you had stayed! Haha! Hats off to the good friends and lovers in your wake! It's true, you are on your knees right now boy: You have learned so clearly just how small of a fish you are in that vast whirlpool of people. But every adventure must have its chapters of misery, you know it, and you are learning to live with it. Good!

You have been introduced to the world! From this experience, you now can draw a truly relevant identity as a citizen and survivor in the modern era.

So, here is how to proceed, my beautiful friend; some boundaries on your imagination and yes your potential:

1) Stop wasting your time on the game of love -- someday you may have time and inclination to write an internet version, but consider it a hobby project of a retired internet professional. Inventing something that will free you from the money machine is not your destiny, so buy lotto tickets each week instead. Serious.

2) As for the women, you are not a Don Juan either. You have in creativity the edge that you lack in desirability, so searching for it with all your free time is a waste of time. Eventually you will be drowned in the shallow puddle of it all, and not once will you have found anything fitting your dreams.

We are not saying you are not to continue improving your confidence in social settings. The bar is a happy place! but reset your agenda from sex to art. Then you will begin to see why you are so drawn to the nightlife.

3) Stop tripping about weed smoking -- instead of celebrating that it is now a legal medicine in both California and Montana, you spend literally hours per day in conflict about your desire to smoke it. When you feel like smoking it, smoke it! Who cares if people think you're a stoner. Everybody has a tragic flaw and that doesn't mean they are short-changed in the long-run. It is your lack of groundedness, which we will discuss below, that is the real killer of your productivity.

Same thing with tobacco for that matter. You are gifted with a love of physicality as well as a sensitive physiology...you simply will not allow yourself to kill yourself this way, so enjoy!

4) Now, as for Liz...mmm, this is a very very delicate situation, and you are handling it...mmm...you are handling it. There are no rules, and love is something you will never understand fully. "Let it be" is probably the only lasting advice I can give. You dropped a lot on her over Thanksgiving, and rumor has it from Owl that you were encouraged to do it, so the agitation is probably necessary for her to loosen that crazy load she's carrying. To follow up with a divorce would be the end forever, so...let your heart be your guide, Response De La Johnse.

I can say this: that notion you have about her always having the upper hand because of womanhood is hogwash, fool. First of all, if she didn't make all those concrete definitions, your wishy-washiness would produce no love to speak of. Secondly, you feel she dictates emotion to you because you have no emotional center other than what you feel for her( which crushes her btw ), so! You must get grounded.

We have been telling you this for a while, but here is what it really means: When you are grounded, you are in harmony, you are "tight" with your dream. Lately you've been drifting, a lot, completely ignorant of why you are in the world.

And here's what you are going to do about that:

For Christmas, consolidate your wish list with the family and get the money to replenish your oil paints, brushes, etc. Go over to Sanborn and get your art table, even if you don't get anything else, just get that table set up in your living room. Let a work-space emerge -- you have a dream studio if you would but set it up and utilize it.

Then, PAINT YOUR LUST. Paint it big, and paint it true. Paint, paint, paint, paint. You will see what begins to happen, even after the first piece is done.

The conflict you have between music and art will get easier over time -- you are indeed a great musician, gregory, but you have many, many, many more years of learning before you will be exhibiting this potential. And once you begin to see the strength of these paintings, relegating music to a year or two in the future when you have more time will not be such a hard tablet to swallow. Honestly, you have reached a level that can only improve with cross-training. Relax, man.

Your career is such a crucial piece of the puzzle dude! The internet is your gallery! To be able to showcase your work there is something that none of your contemporaries are able to do successfully. Yes, it has required a huge fantasy in your heart to motivate your ass to reach your pro level in the time you have. We are sorry for the emotional confusion there, but congratulations! In this respect, hard times are over.

Finish the gallery app, consider paying Pong to design a really, really, really beautiful, simple, and scalable interface. When he sees you painting he will be inclined... Then proceed with your idea of digitizing every scrap of every drawing you have ever done -- the idea is to prove to the world that you are the oldest character in the game...that you have been doing this since you were born. Even though your new work will be the best, the timeline of your development will be what truly attracts people to you.

As the sight gets finished, you should have a new painting and several portraits ready to go. Get those slightly odd-sized business cards printed, print and mount a show's worth of your black-and-white material on substantial weight board, and GET YOURSELF YOUR FIRST SHOW.

From there you will be rock-and-rolling, buddy!

Truly it would be sweet if you could get all this up-and-running before summer 2010, but the truth is, you work a lot, you need plenty of chill time, and that cannot be changed any time soon. You hope to have your debt done in a year...plan on it being at least 2 years. Then, as you become debt free, your art career will manifest.

We now have to reiterate: Channel all of this love emotion. Failure is certainly a possibility if you become grossly involved with anyone during this period. Even Liz, so check yourself CHECK YOURSELF. Warm to the idea of a family by yourself so that if you two do succeed in smoothing the sheets, you will be able to jump right into that. You guys will only be 35, and she will be the healthiest she has ever been. Yes, you may tell her that is your goal.

Return From Oz

2009-11-02T11:25:00.000-08:00

I grew up isolated from people. This was partly due to the fact that, in rural Montana, there are few people around -- however, it was mostly due to being "mommafied", which led to believe I was the number one most special son. So when I did go to public school, I met the regular cast of characters. But, even though I thought I was the King of the World, the boys and girls who knew lot more about this world disagreed, and they made it clear to me my rank in comparison to them.

The result of this battering, both verbal and physical, was a full retreat into the wild trappings of my mind. A place that I will call 'Oz' for the sake of metaphorical generalization.

When I left for college, I had no acceptance of the disparity. Because I had discovered the fantasy-world of comic books, I had aligned myself with a notion that there was not only a career for me, but potentially fame and recognition for having developed my imagination. So I believed I had no incentive to see the world clearly.

So I cast-off on this journey, which led me ultimately to Los Angeles.

Thus began my formal adult education: A 15 year( and continuing )oddesey into reality.

At first, I relied solely on youthfulness, naivete, and enthusiasm. Unfortunately, I realize now, these gifts are not what gets a person to their goals.

Rather, my charm accomplished as much as it could accomplish, and I had many wonderful adventures. It was as if the world wanted to lure me out of my shell, and it did so with tantalizing opportunities to work, to travel, and be intimate with beautiful women. The only thing even partly wrong with all of those memories, is that they came as fast as they went, and because of my mostly mental relationship to it all, the net result was nothing.

All the while, I was projecting on those events a wild fiction with plot leading to some fantastical destination of my imagination. All of it slipped through my fingers while I was counting the grains of sand.

Now I can see emptiness, it is on all sides of me. I have become well-acquainted with my ability to cast illusion on the life going on around me. Because all of that effort actually created nothing other than what was already here, life, I find myself feeling so tired of my old ways.

But alas, I have no other scripts to read -- who will I be? Who am I?

I feel...mostly sad. Sad for the great love I have received via the hearts and souls of people who are no longer in my life. I had believed my passion would lead me to their love, not away from it.

I am not berating myself. I have been foolish, but it was destined to be so -- I did not know then what I know now. I recognize that the rasberry has no idea the size of the patch until it has been plucked and taken away from the garden.

It seems I have no choice other than to learn to love myself, with the same strength and fairness that has been demonstrated by my lovers and friends of youth. I should begin by being more thankful that I have such a fine group upon which to draw examples. I was taught to be intelligent, well-spoken, athletic, ambitious, humorous, gentle, caring, strong, independent, and good-looking. With these tools, I really should be able to do something with my life.

More thanks.

2009-09-12T12:44:00.000-07:00

I meet many fine people, and as quickly as they appear and lift my consciousness higher, the scene shifts and they disappear.

Lizzy and Andrew, the Preverted Twins, & the Pedophile cousin Maria -- hilarious and DISGUSTING! Encantado! Prayer for Juanita or Hilda or whosever mask that was you were wearing, and a big hug with so much love, honor, respect, admiration, and appreciation to Angel, who could have been yet another Antonio in my life!

Labor Day 2009

2009-09-07T21:22:00.000-07:00

Made great progress this weekend on my voice -- thank you, Brian, Sandra, Vanessa, Esperanza, Apolinar, Rosslyn and peeps, Melissa, Tiffany, Aida, Corrina, Connie, Alhandra, Ernesto...and whoever that was on KPFK saturday night, WOW.

Health Considerations:

2009-07-14T15:40:00.000-07:00

My russian friend Boris sent this to me, from his dad...source unknown:

Boris (BZ)
Q: Doctor, I've heard that cardiovascular exercise can prolong life. Is this true?
A: Your heart is only good for so many beats, and that's it.... don't waste them on exercise. Everything wears out eventually. Speeding up your heart will not make you live longer; that's like saying you can extend the life of your car by driving it faster. Want to live longer? Take a nap.

Q: Should I cut down on meat and eat more fruits and vegetables?
A: You must grasp logistical efficiencies. What does a cow eat? Hay and corn. And what are these? Vegetables. So a steak is nothing more than an efficient mechanism of delivering vegetables to your system. Need grain? Eat chicken. Beef is also a good source of field grass (green leafy vegetable).And a pork chop can give you 100% of your recommended daily allowance of vegetable products.

Q: Should I reduce my alcohol intake?
A: No, not at all. Wine is made from fruit. Brandy is distilled wine, that means they take the water out of the fruity bit so you get even more of the goodness that way. Beer is also made out of grain. Bottoms up!

Q: How can I calculate my body/fat ratio?
A: Well, if you have a body and you have fat, your ratio is one to one. If you have two bodies, your ratio is two to one, etc.

Q: What are some of the advantages of participating in a regular exercise program?
A: Can't think of a single one, sorry. My philosophy is: No Pain...Good!

Q: Aren't fried foods bad for you?
A: YOU'RE NOT LISTENING!!! ..... Foods are fried these days in vegetable oil. In fact, they're permeated in it. How could getting more vegetables be bad for you?

Q: Will sit-ups help prevent me from getting a little soft around the middle?
A: Definitely not! When you exercise a muscle, it gets bigger. You should only be doing sit-ups if you want a bigger stomach.

Q: Is chocolate bad for me?
A: Are you crazy? HELLO Cocoa beans ! Another vegetable!!! It's the best feel-good food around!

Q: Is swimming good for your figure?
A: If swimming is good for your figure, explain whales to me.

Q: Is getting in-shape important for my lifestyle?
A: Hey! 'Round' is a shape!

Well, I hope this has cleared up any misconceptions you may have had about food and diets.

And remember:

'Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways - Chardonnay in one hand - chocolate in the other - body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming 'WOO HOO, What a Ride'

AND.....

For those of you who watch what you eat, here's the final word on nutrition and health. It's a relief to know the truth after all those conflicting nutritional studies.

1. The Japanese eat very little fat
and suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans.

2. The Mexicans eat a lot of fat
and suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans.

3. The Chinese drink very little red wine
and suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans.

4. The Italians drink a lot of red wine
and suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans.

5. The Germans drink a lot of beers and eat lots of sausages and fats and suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans.

CONCLUSION
Eat and drink what you like.
Being American is apparently what kills you.

BOXATION, FOLDERATING, and LABELIZING

2009-06-07T20:43:00.000-07:00

The human mind, ah, you predictable animal.

Every person I've ever met( and myself )are beautiful, one-of-a-kind, radiant individuals! And yet, our minds! Aye, aye, aye, our minds! They are like die-cut stamps off an assembly line. They all function the same way, they are educated the same way, and the patterns of an untrained mind are as obvious as a car-wreck on a freeway.

Wisdom I once read: The mind makes an excellent servant but a terrible master.

Many folks are servants to their mind. The mind seeks glorification of itself and its amazing abilities, and because it also knows itself to be only one part of something much bigger, it is equiped with an ability( in perfect proportion actually )to defuse self-admiration.

When you listen to your mind objectively, after a great deal of distillation, you will begin to recognize that one side is consistently trying to "understand" things. This takes the form of analysis, which is the reason for the title: "Boxation, folderating, and labelizing."

Example: You are in the grocery store, trying to decide which product to buy. A person approaches you and suggests another product entirely. If you even care to listen to your mental process, you might find it goes something like this:

You look at the person, they are female, old with gray hair, smiling, wearing nice clothes...all black, strange...oh, wait, with a red neck scarf, hmmm....expensive glasses....she seems friendly...why is she suggesting this product? What next?

You are assimilating this situation. Your mind is necessarily trying to process and deliver to you( as quickly as possible )all of the information you need to make a decision. This procedure can be as complex as you have trained your decision-making process to be, or as simple as "I don't talk to strangers( even if they are beautiful old ladies, who knows what her agenda might be, etc, etc, etc, ad nauseum )".

The mind, by itself, cannot deal with the moment-at-hand. It cannot give you the answer in regard to WHAT NEXT. It can only give you a staggering list of pros and cons.

Every time, you end up doing...something. Saying something, getting through it one-way-or-another. Life is a trip, my friends. A very, very, very LOOOOONNNNG journey through time and space.

So!

What is it? How is it? What on Earth is going on here?????

Haha! Well, although I rant and rave, I will always defer to you, my King/Queen, in regard to YOU. Unless you are a child living on your parent's rules, it is not for another, ever, to say on your behalf! You are the captain of your heart, as I am of mine!

I would only encourage you to escape that which limits you. That which would seek to boxate you, folderate you, or labelize you. These are the activities of ill-trained minds, and you should know by now...positions much less than what you really are.

Also! Do not boxate, folderate, and labelize others!

I am always taken-aback when negativity is perceived in my words and my descriptions. Part of my own "delving-deeper" process has put me necessarily face-to-face with ever-increasing doses of these perceptions.

Although I have indeed come realize a large degree of habitual responses to life's daily routines( a reservoir of human foibles including selfishness of all kinds, interruptive rudeness, my-needs-are-greater-than-yours, shortness of temper, arrogance, presumption-of-knowing, etc ), I had believed my contemplated, carefully arranged, and published message to be far more uplifting than it so often appears to be received.

I guess I am asking for myself to communicate that positivity better. I want to relate a beautiful and uplifting confidence that things -- AS THEY ARE! -- are both miraculously and mundanely rendered in absolute and utter perfection! I have no doubt of this, none! although I am recomspent to forget in the face of emotionality and habitual fear.

And what of all the problems? War, death, pain, suffering? I swear to you with the passion of a 1000^1000 men that these attrocities are caused by the widespread belief that it is imperfect and not the way it should be. Aye! Another slaying!

If every person could accomplish the personal triumph of seeing these things as patterns in a massive design that IS PRESENTLY BECOMING, ALWAYS BECOMING then I swear, additionally with even more fervor, the Kingdom of Heaven would be upon us all.

I will never hear argument to this Truth.

I want the strength of it to sing clearly, even in the twists-and-turns and ups-and-downs of my personality. I believe it is like how the graphed soundwave of a symphony appears jittery when magnified too closely. Don't analyze the mechanics of reality unless that is your destiny, passion, and hobby to do so. Nay! Just LIVE LIFE!

The Art of Transforming Energy.

2009-05-26T21:45:00.000-07:00

I hate myself, for a thousand reasons. In fact, I am so well-equiped to hate myself I could launch missiles, send smart drones...I could infiltrate, I could deflate my self-worth, slowly, menacingly, without remorse or mercy. I could describe, in exhaustive detail, all of the architecture of annilhilation. I could fill a library with nothing but step-by-step articles on how to destroy me with cold-blooded hatred.

And in the end? Blond, young, happy-go-lucky ol' me would still be standing there( well, actually, I would be curled up in the fetal position begging for my beating to cease ). But I would still be there, an eternal force. A challenge to any who would seek to put out the sun, or cast darkness on the waking hour.

I am indestructible.

And somehow out of this war, I seek to find myself in peace.

My body dies ten thousand times, I am riddled as warped as pimp's roladex. I am as black as charcoal and I am as wet as a virgin. I am reactionary and emotional. Even as I put these weapons towards myself, I crash them down on the spirits and people of my surroundings like a tidal wave of fury. Where I salvage an ounce of self-respect, my other side commandeers it for sheer wickness against weakness in fellow human beings. I conquor all and I eat the balls of a bull with utter disregard. Shadow me for any day of my life and witness the terror I put forth, should my reign be thwarted.

When you are honest with yourself, I am always relieved to find that you are a fantastically gifted and creative one that I want to hug and kiss and herald and recommend to God himself for angel status. I find my own wager to be so familiar. To witness a stranger live in peace is truly a gift!

As for me, as you can see, there is a wellspring of negativity within me that is like a water fountain...I am dispelling it with gusto, to hopefully cast the dirty drops beyond the pool, so that perhaps the rain will fill me with purity. It could happen.

I can't say I've changed. I have in fact become more the same than ever I remembered possible. You know, if not for THIS, I would not describe anything...at all! I would simply marvel and move and marvel and move, as if without any intelligence but for adherence to a pattern( which by the way is something any machine can do ).

Therein lies a secret...one of baffling power and infinite personal volition: A body is here because one chooses to be so. Of course, try turning the light switch off with your mind, and you'll give yourself a headache, but none-the-less, you may be the cause of ALL OF THIS.

If so, please, for the Love of God, tell me, because I should hope not to be all alone...WHAT IS IT?

I ask, I find drunken spiels and obsessively rendered sonnets and slavishly attended art shows. I find earth and her nature...LOVELY BUT FOR THE ABSOLUTE VOID OF HUMAN TENDERNESS...I find family...and then, I find a well of love and sorrow so deep, I again am shaken to rather wanting to annihilate me for ever creating this.

I really am quite sure I will never get my head around it.

So what? Masturbate? That worked until I did every single woman on the planet to flabby-cock-stankity-pussy-oblivion. After that, it was sort of a simple conversation with myself as to whether I would prefer to "get it on" even more with heroin...............or, then again, perhaps review my other options.

I think life is as baffling as it is to read this. I think if I read me, I would smile -- not in a dismissive holier-than-thou-put-greg-in-a-fucking-box way...but genuinely like, "Ahhhhhh, that fool is FUCKED and he knows it! Yah!" and I would really feel good for while about what we are doing here.

If you want to transform energy, you are fucked too. But nobody likes a welfare case. You are definitely going to have to figure out for yourself...pretty much everything. TV may have some helpful moments...radio may clue you in with a lyric...you will definitely need to know how to read. But teachers, books, internet, none of these things have answers, they don't even exist...you may be a scholar staring at drops of ink floating atomically galaxies above some smashed tree pulp, or at multi-colored illuminated crystals -- ALL VERY WEIRD ACTIVITIES.

People don't have answers because we are all fucked.

Nature, like I said, is a cold bitch and will laugh as you drop nuclear bombs on her face. Hell, if she had a heart, and got pissed, to scold us, she would just raise the global temperature 10 degrees, melt the fucking ice caps, drown everybody, send in an ice age to do off the rest. She'd start over with plankton 27 times before putting the sun out and turning all nine planets into asteroids. Any answer you find with her is bound to be an uncomforting one.

All of this can be easily transformed. EASILY.

Reborn a woman.

2009-03-29T15:12:00.000-07:00

And strangely, I still had a penis.

Do you ever forget the password to your own Blog?

2009-03-23T21:11:00.000-07:00

Not writing enough, you are.

Here's what's on my mind: Growing up with many many many many many many other people. See, though I live in Los Angeles, I grew up in the country with isolationist-esque style neo-hippies. Mom and Dad are good-hearted people who enjoy the peace and challenge of nature above the cacophony and reliability of people. But I hadn't even heard of the Beatles.

Mom had one parenting theory I remember well: Childhood is a once-in-a-lifetime period of great potential for dreaming and naivete. In fact, one can roam quite freely away into fantasy. If it were not for a continual drone of wake-up calls, I'm quite sure I remember how the dream goes and could re-enact it, with the right people and tools of course.

Quite sadly, it has dawned on me with the same persistence of the morning that the human body begins to lose its sensitivity if not properly cared for. But to my great amazement, in timely fashion my greatest savior made even sickness a great gift from which I awakened to the potential of a healthy body.

Why then do I have a irresolute urge to say [motherfucker] ?

Well, that gets me back to this notion of MANY MANY other people. Outside now of my fantasy, it seems to me quite definite that there are others like me. Somehow I see examples: catch snipets in public, and see in relative tribes a pattern of development. QUITE DEFINITELY SIMILAR, if not identical.

It seems to me the depth of personality is practically limitless...otherwise for sure someone would have formulated a means to harness it -- OH WAIT; you might say, "They haaaaaaave..." and you would be half right. The spiral coil indeed follows a pattern, but it is SO IMPORTANT to remember, the pattern is one of no pattern. It is a pattern drawn by chaos. To identify precisely the pattern would CHANGE the pattern, or at least introduce into consideration IT_WHOM_IDENTIFIES. Said simply, observation is an arrow pointing right back at you. Or whomever is observing.

Again, though everything I have said follows a line-of-thought, other people render it quite meaningless.

Suddenly in now a void where any thing wrought of myself is meaningless, an internet blooms.

IS

THAT

NOT

WEIRD?

I think it's totally weird, and yet, it follows synonomously other idioms of structure and format: A community website is constructed by the same men that build houses, that build ships, airplanes, automobiles. As a citizen of the Present Day And Age, I ask you if you even know the fundamentals of its manufacture, surely you must because you are quite likely married or sleeping with somebody who does it for a living.

Again, other people. This time a grounding effect, a pull into reassuring solidarity. And so the question of people becomes not one of marginal animosity, but rather one that swells with curiousity.

We irresistibly are getting to know other people.

Of course, therein lies a dense magnent of material. For people like me, to even enter into that throbbing complex of emotion and passion is almost unthinkable. I toy with the idea of letting go like a pervert or an addict following his taste and retreating aways.

Instead I miss my lady. I hope she has somehow discovered or produced some emotion to lift me up. And that makes her so distraught over me. I sit and I think. I wonder what is happening.

Tobacco and the Ancients

2009-02-09T22:02:00.000-08:00

If you are conscious as I am, that the Americas( from Alaska to Tierra del Fuego )have been inhabited by a vast and thriving nation of peoples since thousands of years before Christ, then you will know what I mean when I invoke the term 'The Ancients'.

Native Americans were people deeply connected to the rhythm of the earth, her seasons, and our mortal flight through infinite space. This is real. It continues despite whatever fictions one adopts in fantasy of it. It is!

Our modern relationship to it, sadly, often requires a great deal of arduous sorting in order to recognize clearly. Which is strange, isn't it? But it is true!

I theorize that this is mostly due to the distance we are from the source of our food. It is hard to recognize the thriving life forms of a vegetable, herb, spice, or meat when they are packaged up in a grocery store. And of course the vegan fad is most always tied up in some vanity of scientific health( cow-and-chicken-pity? )...not simply a deep, lustful desire for the flesh of plants. I digress.

My point is that most people do not even know what a potato or a rice plant looks like. And that hilarious vegan reaction is not surprising -- when some suckling hipster first sees a living cow, they are struck by the absolute adorable gentleness of this creature! Naturally, it would be further shocking to find oneself born a first-class citizen in the Supersize-Me Industry. But the news is in: The problem isn't beef.

The problem is any person living in a moment's denial. The problem is more deeply an individual's lack of personal desire to transcend, to shovel through all of the shit of propagandized public or poor education, inherited anger and abuse, to assemble( at sometimes painstakingly slow intervals )the entire puzzle that appears to be modern life.

There is no dilemma! There is a cycle. It is happening. It is happening on a scale so much larger( and smaller )than we are that it seems ludicrous that mankind could be lost in the middle of it. Ahhhh! The beautiful oasis and tropicana, the nubile and dripping utopia of Nowhere Togo! I will live here until I die!

We are faced with an opportunity to see ourselves as part of this ancient thing. Painful though I know it is, the context is indeed human.... You must keep in mind that human beings are also animals -- all that marks us different than the rest of the kingdom is our singularly unique ability to comprise the spirits of everything around us! In doing so, we win the ability to be NONE OF THESE THINGS AT ALL, if we so choose. And yet, everybody who tries this exercise finds that the soul remains, the heart continues to beat, and we find ourselves still here.

No wonder bad days suck so bad. ;)

Anyway, that brings me to Tobacco. What is Tobacco? Consider: What is coffee? Existentualize: What is chocolate? An asymptotic limit: What is sugar?

...to be continued... Movie on TV I want to watch. Peace.

Hello 2009!

2009-01-02T15:38:00.000-08:00

Hello. Why are you reading me?

I'm lonely, I'm looking for hope, for inspiration.

Ah, so glad you have contacted me.

Why? Do you have what I'm looking for?

We are communicating, we are two humans, therefore, you are not alone. Hope is the default behavior of the human heart, and I have such an abundance of inspiration, I will be long dead before all of it comes to fruition.

Wow!

See! And now you are inspired.

But now I want more!

I have more for you.

Give it to me.

Inspiration is not an object that can be handled, precisely. What do you want?

[There are 7 possible responses:]

1. To be physically gratified.
2. To feel ecstasy.
3. To have power.
4. To be able to love another.
5. To have insights.
6. To be conscious.
7. To be God.

Haha! My friend! To obtain any of these things, first you must be inspired!

Then give it to me!

It cannot be given.

Then why did you brag of having an abundance?

Because it is true.

Well! Then how did you get it?

It was within and everywhere naturally already. I aligned myself with it.

This mumbo-jumbo. I don't understand.

---

Dialogue with anything more highly advanced than ourselves always only continues as far as we let it. This makes the discovery of inspiration an opening process that is as gentle as a flower blooming.

Flowers bloom!

We outlive the flower in the fall, and through the winter, we often pine for spring.

Life for me has seen its 33rd fall. I wait with wool socks on, congestion, and grim anticipation of several more months of work before the thaw comes.

But it will happen, and this year stands to offer many tidings. We may get our first dog, just to put some meet on the ribs of our family. As I said, inspiration sometimes seems lost in the weariness and sadness of our lives, but the direction of this cycle cannot be altered, and it is a good direction.

For lingering transgressions of selfishness and ego, particularly to whom my confounded mortality has been a burden, I confess my foolishness and promise a new commitment of goodwill and appreciation for the efforts you have made on my behalf.

To those special few who have had nothing but forgiveness in their hearts every day, my parents, Rhonda, Liz, and Tom. Affirmation to my spirit guides Amandi and Joe -- let my singleminded and playful nature find its voice in your essences.

Why I's Born

2008-11-15T15:41:00.000-08:00

Very inspired I was and in love with Mother Earth
When last I faced that biggest step, mortal death.
But knowing the Way, and having been saved,
I had thought for many decades
upon who and what I would become.

I knew I'd fall back in many ways,
My history would not transcend my grave.
And childhood, why so many are born,
For me, I knew, would be hell to pay.
Ignorance is like a shackle to humanity.

Yes, it was a story of pain.
It was of innocence and aroma blown away,
Sickness, sorrow, misunderstanding, decay,
And the eros and the egos in a constant fray.
Our species is basically wired that way.

Then of lust,
then of greed,
I tried gluttony, I smoked weed.
I started it over and tried them all again,
Addiction is like that my friend.

Then one day, at the height of my betrayal,
I remembered what my plan had been,
just as sure as the sun is fire.
I got as high as a kite to suddenly remember
why I'd put myself through this forsaken trial.

But then my bad habits bekoned in the wing
and it took seven more years just to get free.

Now I stand here, so many years younger than I was,
I'm healthy, and miraculously, everything I've been through
has equiped me to do exactly what it was
I came here to get done.

Modern Old Times

2008-11-12T20:00:00.000-08:00

Recent pictures of our parents
look like old photos from the 70s.

I'm not there yet but I figure
it's the same for me a-plenty.

Everyone out to get some thing
instead of just being pretty.

I thought I understood
But it now it's getting sticky...

Happiness is a strange addiction.
Happiness is a strange addiction.

The architect brought me
Fortune, sex, fame, and identity

Am I to blame for this pain,
For what there really should be no shame

You say there may not be a mystery,
only this lonely, lonely ride.

But a strong code of conduct
is a conviction every time.

Happiness is a strange addiction.
Happiness is a strange addiction.

Not much of me remains
but the headlines are the same.

Rivers of intrigue and subterfuge;
my talent has always been a game.

Someone seeks to possess it,
someone seeks to control it

But it isn't nothing without me,
I know that for sure.

Happiness is a strange addiction.
Happiness is a strange addiction.

Hope and Change?

2008-11-07T20:52:00.000-08:00

The Beginning of the Obama Era.

A campaign of Hope and Change. Hmm. I'll admit, I have not been at all a fan of the previous 8 years of administration. I am with many people when I say Mr. Bush stole the second term, was a war-monger, and created a political environment that now has accepted the compromise of some very basic American freedoms, like privacy and culture. We live in a modern police state that only needs to beat people down in the most extreme cases...the rest of the time, the people are kept in check by a media crusade of fear. Just try to step out of the mold, it isn't even the police that "correct" you, it's your brain-washed friends and families.

On the other hand, consider this: If our modern age were to utterly fail...I mean, first economy, then internal corruption, then military coops, then attacked by China...if our little U.S.A. experiment were to come to term, as the greatest empires and civilizations in history all HAVE (Greek, Chinese, Mayan, etc)...consider your belly-aching, protesting, and complaining all in that scope. All of our modern achievements could quite easily become dust, just as the knowledge of Alexandria was burned, just as the astronomy of the Incas was lost, just as Atlantis is a legend.

Eventually, as humanity would recover from that Dark Age, children would be taught, "Ooo, once upon a time, back around 2000, people were very advanced -- they could travel faster than the wind. Individuals could communicate around the world using complicated light-emanating matrixes of crystals! They could control their aging process! They built machines to do most of their labor! They could heal most sicknesses! Etc." You get my drift.

I certainly encourage people to fight for what is right, and what is good. But I also hope and I pray that we give thanks for all that we have today, AS IS.

My favorite Radiohead song.

2008-10-11T13:02:00.000-07:00

That there, that's not me
I go where I please
I walk through walls
I float down the Liffey

I'm not here
This isn't happening
I'm not here, I'm not here

In a little while
I'll be gone
The moment's already passed
Yeah, it's gone

I'm not here
This isn't happening
I'm not here, I'm not here

Strobe lights and blown speakers
Fireworks and hurricanes

I'm not here
This isn't happening
I'm not here, I'm not here....

Me For President!

2008-10-07T01:14:00.000-07:00

And here is what I would say:

Countrymen! City-folk! Be here with me now, and hear my voice!

Our individual lives -- in many cases full of suffering -- exist within a GREAT HISTORY of people, just like you. Lives replete with complications beyond words to tell. Their lives were spent bringing us to this moment. We can look to our parents and elders for these stories and the legends.

What we face today is what we will speak of to our children and their children.

Without detailing any requisites of denomination or faith, I can predict: In of your awareness of Noble Truth, determined honestly and thoroughly, you will be elevated. With such clarity, you will see the society we have engineered, so abundant in resources, opportunities, and experience! And you will see the cost, even in your daily grind, it takes to bring these things to market.

Once appreciative, once humble, you will know in what very natural way you may aide the tasks of which you are a part. You will know the power of your dollar. And in a very very small way, you will have a enormous impact on the temperature and direction of our economy.

Most of you are frustrated with the current state-of-affairs. You may even be scoffing, or ridiculing my predictions, saying, "Yes, yes, yes, of course, but HOW? What about taxes? What about education, crime, rates...what about the WAR?? Are you pro-choice or not????????"

But these questions are a savvy trap designed to cycle our minds, like a caged creature. I speak to every American who can recognize, in our glorious economic success (look around our country! See the wealth!) THERE ARE OPPORTUNITIES to educate oneself, to grow, to find love, to mature, to age, and to lead a steady and comfortable recline from life.

Of course as President, my overbiding ambition will be to fund and extend these opportunities, especially to those who have been socially deprived them. There is no place for class-ism or racism in our land anymore! These things have indeed happened. It happened, there is no excuse, no penance could possibly be paid -- today what can be done is to honor the sacrifice by stopping the cycles of revenge and anger. Today, your leaders can be honest and ask for forgiveness for what our fore-fathers have done. Today, we all can open this gift from within.

Additionally, as your leader, I must also take part in this pursuit of what is good, and what is right. Though I could not say so to you if I were incumbent to the political party system, I would say that our economic system is largely a printed-paper fiction, of which some prevailing families, institutions, and individuals have a throttlehold. As our current crisis suggests, these heavy hitters may have indeed squeezed too tightly. . .I say there is no blood to be had from a turnip. . .take no more money from the people. I do not expect to see the billion- and million-aires be made paupers, but I do envision a system where their philandering generosity and charity is rewarded in some proportional way to the taxes expected of them. In this way, our capitalist heroes will educate and fertilize the next generation of players.

Health care must be provided for everybody. . .this is just one of those things that, no matter our hierarchical success in the current system, we will each come to know as true. As doctors and healers become united in philosophy, despite their different methods, a less expensive, better-performing order of health-care will be instantiated.

And what about law and order? What about those who fight to retain the old militaristic approach to problem solving?

I say, again, as each individual succeeds in the joyous task of aligning themselves to satisfaction, slowly the pressure on our justice system will ease. This will happen partially because there are fewer cases, but more so because the destructive and barbaric approach to life's problems will be more identifiable. A liar will be a pinochio, the hooligan will show guilt, and the vampire will see light. As the courts begin to have room to breathe fresh air, the executive branch as well will have time to question themselves and their role in society. Peacekeeping may come to have a noble reputation.

These things are what need to happen. A government cannot mandate these things -- and so none of your former presidents have been able to affect this change. Unable to do what is necessary, without compromising the integrity of our 3-branch system, they have resorted to the typical avenues of politicking and maintainence.

I too will not be able to mandate the things I have spoken about (nor would I want to), but I will speak to you of their absolute reality, despite all nay-sayers, despite all character assassinations, despite my own mortality. I will live in truth of what I know, and I sollemnly vow to frame my decisions of legislature always in hopeful pursuit of a society I am proud to have helped forge.

We have 4 years together -- things may change as drastically as the elevated ones are able to manage the heathens, as quickly as the heathens hear the call. If we remain polarized, in fear and combat, very little will change. However! The cosmos is a study of cycles, and we are indeed ready for a change, so in this respect, I anticipate some assistance!

Many of you will laugh at me for charting my presidency via the stars, but I challenge you back. . .have your methods worked any better? Simply by admitting the great accomplishment we have made with America, and by asking our global partners for forgiveness, we could begin to repair our relationships with them. Our military has proven itself, let us truly employ it as a martial art, used only in defense and to disarm our aggressor. If our markets fail, let us go without that item, for we can feed, clothe, house, and educate our own nation, what more do we need?

If our bloated, money-hungry economy must fail, so be it. Fortunes won are inevitably fortunes lost. Poor people have always known this. What is more important is that every individual has a task that is crucial and that they are paid adequately to afford the common experience. Those that wish to have more may do so by their ambition to excell in any given field or trade.

As I have said, within all of our grasps are the tools to forge a better society. Our ancestors have lived and died to make it so. It is now our responsibility to empower it, enjoy it, and let it endure until the earth itself changes her mode.

LOVE!

Every Dream Drempt

2008-10-07T00:52:00.000-07:00

One ought to lay one's head to rest gently, every night.
Letting the day and its sorrow fade away. . .
There is no more to be had, there is no fight.
Life lingers in this way, in this half-light.

I wake whenever and where-ever I may,
I see peticulars in this peculiar little dream!
I feel it the same, in every single way,
Except, Lord, it has changed.

And boy it is said, time and time again,
where one fancies oneself, like magnetism,
attraction is manufacturing it.
Besos dulces y tu sabes tambien.

[music]

One ought to lay one's head to rest gently, every night.
Letting the day and its sorrow fade away. . .
There is no more to be had, there is no fight.
Life lingers in this way, in this half-light.

Why I don't choose war.

2008-09-16T01:49:00.000-07:00

Picture this: Late night in the 'hoods of Los Angeles, coming home, looking for street parking. I see a spot! Close to my apartment! It is on my side of the street, but as I see it, a car from the opposite direction is also seeing the spot. We stop, side-by-side, looking at each other...

Who's spot is it?

Is it mine because I'm facing the correct direction? Or, I think, were they turning around to get the spot? Am I stealing it? So I speak, "Were you turning around to take this spot?"

Chola, she lies, "Yah."

But then I think -- if so, then she turned around to face the wrong direction! So I say, "Why are you turning around twice??"

Caught in what I believe to be a lie, she says, "YO, JUST TAKE IT!" Right about then I realize the car is full of people and I'm by myself, playing Justice, playing Fair.

Although I take the spot and even try to scurry into the safety of my apartment before they come back around, I am feeling major bad joo-joo on the whole situation...hell, I would even consider bashing in my window for it, why wouldn't some disenfranchised youths take some noble pleasure in serving me a dose of reality? So, I head back to my car. By now, they have found a semi-legal spot even closer to their building than where they fought me to park (so the whole trouble was for naught), but none-the-less, I get in, pull out, and drive past them.

Who knows what they thought.

But what I think is that this little scenario is no different than when two powerful nations are facing off for something they both think is theirs. Nations will go to war for it. Like they could have attacked my car, and I saw what they were driving and I know where they live, so then I could have served them retribution. And pretty soon somebody would literally be dead. And why?

Even though I got what I wanted, the parking space was cursed now, worthless, even dangerous, and it left me more scared and saddened than anything else -- victory at the expense of another is worthless! I parked somewhere totally different. I wish now more than anything I had just been humble enough (not scared but HUMBLE enough) to gratefully offer them the spot because they seemed to want it badly enough to fight.

Read My Blog, already!!

2008-09-09T23:37:00.001-07:00

HE IS AS

GAY

as an April Fag

in a May shower.

"It's Cam-tastic!"

2008-09-07T13:04:00.000-07:00

It's my new phrase: Camtastic!

This is an ironic term that describes any quality of life, that appears exactly to our individual liking. The term is derived from a social phenomenon of the late 20th century, beginning 1996 and onward, gaining significant momentum with the installation of high-speed internet to any and all interested urban dwellers. This created an individual, private audience & access to any type of mental fantasy conceivable.

Not surprisingly, sex was one of the most popular of these fantasies. Horny men may have been the enslaved labor-force most responsible for building the World "Wild" Web.

Early, first-generation social impacts are beginning to be recognized: Men's relationship to real, living, breathing, be-talking-a-whole-lotta-they-own-fantasy REAL WOMEN, became increasingly detached in some cases.

Therein the IRONY when a person says of something fabulous ( that it's camtastic ).

The Mathematics of Sorrow

2008-09-04T20:06:00.000-07:00

And forgiveness . . . can I forgive you? My friend, my teacher, my lover, my kin?

Foolishness is by how you live your life -- I see greatness, in your smile, and in your spirit. You fail me, repeatedly, convince me again that with three steps backwards you have come two steps forward.

You convince me.

I believe you, and by which time I have fallen to self-hatred: For special commitments to your self-delusion. When and all the while intention in my heart only wanted truth.

You lie and this is how you do it. You parody life. You parade suffering. For your special willingness to do this awful thing, you expect celebration. Sick one!

I have seen suffering, enough to fear it, enough to thank a merciful, generous, patient, forgiving God for sparing me for this tender moment. Which taught me only humility, humility, humility -- for what? What? What do I really know of tomorrow or his Cosmic Plan?

What do you know of tomorrow and the Cosmic Plan?

I *know* you don't know -- that much is true.

Ms. "Savvy Mind" Argumentative? It does not matter, you may say there are some who KNOW, and I agree, we have some ancestral and otherwise legendary teachers...leaders...but in our mortal coils, you and I are but first-year amateurs.

I am hardly good enough at digestion and sex to think of myself greater than it.

And in your proud moments, you respond, "My love! How can you think so lowly of yourself?"

Turned back upon myself. . .emotion of all amplitude and frequencies penetrate me and I am rendered as nothing.

* * *

And when does Man kill? And when does He open a passage for you to empty your blood into the ground? And what cause need he to close the throat of the Ill-Sayer?

The righteous prevail while the meek inherit the earth.
The righteous prevail while the meek inherit the earth.
The righteous prevail while the meek inherit the earth.
The righteous prevail while the meek inherit the earth.

Ohmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

The Parental Circle

2008-08-10T11:03:00.000-07:00

By age 42, Ayhe had lived many more lifetimes than most people around him -- a military childhood. Further, his inspired adolescence had made for some unsustainable conditions throughout his young life. He had seen it all.

Lifetimes take their toll, however. Reincarnation is not without cost: Every attachment is rendered obsolete. Sorrow is inevitable.

Ultimately, the body's heart strings can no longer play to the volume and timber they once did. Someday, the body even wishes to retire completely from the wheel.

It was at close to this point that Ayhe decided he should like to perpetuate himself in a different manner: Via Cloning.

And so he did. A young babe of the exact same genetic make-up as himself was handed to him (a proud father?) after nine months of incubation.

Ayhe had not wanted the unpredictable conditions of a human carrier to grow the child, so he had opted instead for the mechanized incubator.

Ayhe figured that early womb life was where a body's first grand adventures happened, and he remembered in his own life that birth -- that awful squeeze and Mother's pain -- was a horrendous end to the most galactic lifetime Ayhe had ever known or ever knew again.

Why take that from a child? he wondered. What if an imaginative mind (such as his own) were given a chance to go forth into the world not traumatized by the birth? Could such a child be in a position of consciousness to live in another dimension entirely?

Ayhe wagered so, and set out to raise just such a model.

What is Mommas Boy Hero?

2008-07-30T19:19:00.000-07:00

This page is a concentration of my conciousness, tabled on a great concentration of mankind's consciousness, an internet.

These collections of symbols, forming words. . .form a relationship to you, as you understand them. You wonder, perhaps, ooo, something new? Something yummy? Or a something that takes you all away, perhaps? Perhaps you only hope to know that somebody else knows with you.

As quantum mechanics teaches us, my babble cannot be described without also describing the reader. A relationship.

In such, I cannot say myself, what is to be gained. Perhaps it depends on the depth of realization and agreement to which we can continue.

Indeed, to what great reaches can two Concentrations-of-Conciousness (COC from now on;) possibly go to?

Well.

I believe that depends on AGREEMENT.

Afterall, is it not true that humans, in their many ways, have an aptitude for (if not getting), TRYING to get what is wanted. And would you not say: TRYING is necessary to get what one wants?(for, those who do not try are ghosts -- the dead -- they cannot even move a stone, that is, lol, without trying...) wink wink nudge nudge.

When two people are in agreement, their abilities to TRY coincide (assuming they have moderate-to-advanced control of their intents and actions). This doubling of power, has immense capability.

Unfortunately, it is very difficult to find two people who may remain in agreement for any period of time. Cleanliness, eating habits, sexual habits, personality, eloquence, and attitude are all very unique to every individual. They have a kinetic quality when grouped with multiples of their own kind.

Any relationship not founded in accurate spiritual agreement is bound, just as it appeared, to cycle back to from where it came. However, two humans brought together by their mutual surrender to an intelligence greater than their own...these two spirits have work that they need to do together. This work can transcend lifetimes.

In my own life, I seek to get as much work done on my soul as I can fit in without short-circuiting my mind, going crazy, and casting myself into a venomous pit of prostitution. And I can't do that without relationships.

I believe there is a potential for the faceless quality of the internet to bring people actually closer together -- to help connect the mired-in-emotion-moments to other moments of consciousness and truth. People are the vehicles! The voices and the bodies!

Society is changing rapidly -- everybody can see and feel that. People wonder where it is going, but for anyone surrendered to Essence, it is crystal clear. Inhibitions and cults-of-personality must dissolve; they are dissolving! Individuals must know themselves, inside and out, and be prepared to shine! And you must know when to die, and receive acclaim for doing so gracefully.

Mommas Boy Hero is the chronicle of one such individual in the midst of universal transformation: Greg Nitram

Internet Rants.

2008-06-16T15:17:00.000-07:00

In an effort to spare my occaisional internet rants from threading into obscurity, I catalogue a link to a recent comment I made on this article: http://www.mindhacks.com/blog/2008/06/bling_of_the_hill.html

My co-worker sends me these inane things, which I'm convinced, is to get me into one of my famous diatribes and entertain him endlessly. And the arrogance of that -- the disrespect for what I have sacrificed and offered to have this knowledge, this perspective, this individuality -- I have recently decided I will not tollerate. I conclude that life is so full of so many inspiring people, ecstatic opportunities, reaffirming experiences, and HONEY that spending one's times being dragged back to another's shallow conception of reality is really an offense. In our infinite freedom, it is unwanted to be shackled even by one's own mind, let alone some 21-year-old, gun-loving weirdo's. Love ya Derek.

And here is one I stumbled into all by myself: http://news.cnet.com/8601-13506_3-9965792.html

I saw some headline about Metallica wanting us to hate them. I read the article. It's about how Metallic's music/ticket management is nothing but a slap-in-the-face to their audience and an undisguised effort to get into the rock and roll Hall of Fame. And that they are washed-up has-beens.

Yah, I couldn't stop myself; METALLICA one of the baddest-ass, longest-playing bands in rock history. They are already legends. At this point, it doesn't matter what they do or how they go out, they are great.

Furthermore, I see no reason why any band or individual in the public-eye should ever supplicate to demand. I know it happens in every story of fame, like some weird lesson in the extended family of your common man and love for them, but it doesn't make it any less of a forbearance. Considering the rabid independent spirit, the werewolf quality of Metallica, doesn't it actually kind of make sense that they, of all bands, would utterly dismiss this type of debasing of themselves for the love of [fucked-up] family members? I think so.

Not to say that they aren't greasing their own assholes for some goal of their own, but hey, it is their right to do with their catalogue as they choose. I don't really care, because they have been chosen to express a certain quality of life with their sound, and I am thankful to have it in my life.

Ego and Me

2008-05-06T02:39:00.000-07:00

Took me a long-ass time, but I finally realized that both voices in my head are my ego. That consciousness is deeper still.

Trend Lightly

2008-05-05T20:16:00.000-07:00

Trends.

Fads.

"That's who I wish I could be...," said longingly. "But my ass will never fit those jeans." "My cock will never satisfy that pussy." "I am a loser." "I hate me."

The excerpt you have just read may be easily be mistaken as real. Even fooling the innocent reader into a complicated series of their own thoughts. But no, this is an excerpt from any mind as it experiences admiration.

Yes, ADMIRATION because trends are not objects. Trends aren't something you can pick up, throw against a wall, and see broken into a thousand crystals (technically). A trend is the intellectual description or label used to describe admiration as it is broadcast by a population.

Everyone knows what it is like to admire someone. Stop in at any place, and you will see someone who is both gifted and well-practiced. They will blow your mind. You will understand how they are this talented, and you will even fantasize how you could, yourself, be like this person. You may be inspired for years. You may feel good about your potential. You may be heartened to experience progress towards this ideal that you have captured.

This would be admiration as it flows from your Heart.

There is another kind of admiration, and it is that produced by a catalytic conversation of the aforementioned experience. It is a heightened sense of urgency, an advertisement of assistence, and short-cuts that can stimulate one's mind into something of a fever, or a high. In this heightened states, great revelations can be made, but very little time is passed. Therefore, upon landing, one finds oneself staggeringly far, still, from the real diamond.

This is a cultural tendency brought about by the well-understood Human Dynamic.

And media amplifies it, million-fold.

Allow natural admiration to be swayed by Talkers, and you are simply trendy and have lost your true belief.

One Thing About Dreams

2008-04-30T19:45:00.000-07:00

And those whom defend their foolishness by it:

There are souls whose preferred exit was/is to be thrusting the hottest fuck of their lives, sway-for-sway, bump-for-bump, through a civilization-wrecking earthquake...even if their petit mort is el grande burrito, I have known this dream, so I know it is true.

An American Koan, by Greg Connell, circa 2008

Everybody Dies

2008-04-26T23:11:00.000-07:00

"Duh." "I know, uh-huh" "Heard it a million times" "Why do you DWELL on it?"

And..yes, why do I dwell on it?

Are you fricking kidding me?? I believe, when each person dies...they go back through every heart-beat of their lives, back to Mother, back to conception and Father, and finally Poof! "That's all she wrote."

Furthermore, I believe the Christian "Hell" is simply this footstep-walking process through one's life. Can you imagine how it will be to see yourself doing most of the things you did?! Ha-ha! What a laugh that's gonna be!

Ahh, it's just a growing-up process. It is all right. And that's when I believe you begin walking through each of your interactions with every person you ever met -- you begin seeing how everybody was at some point in their own growing-up-process, and how you treated them.

This belief is just a belief, I can't prove it to you; but if you think about it thoroughly enough, I'm quite sure it will make sense.

Like a Cat

2008-04-21T23:09:00.000-07:00

Always right, doesn't hurt,
Won't see me cry.
My threads are always purrfect
and that's no lie.

I don't tangle with bigger beasts;
I go exactly where I please.
If you look soft enough
you might melt my heart,
But your expectations freeze

ME.

I am a cat.

I'm a little jealous
and hungry for the sun
I'm a night owl
packing a three fifty seven.

I'm a cat,

Always right, doesn't hurt,
Won't see me cry.
My threads are always purrfect
and that is not a lie.

Notes #3,775

2008-04-17T22:37:00.000-07:00

The yapping dog next door, los vencinos, a reminder? Of what was to be? Or of more fear, misplaced, and mis-manifested? Of action untaken and opportunities missed?

Of friendly neighborhood smiles? Of youth? Of parenthood, or of assets burdened for the sake of the Father?

Yap, yap -- yowuuuuuueeeerrr, yooow uuuuuuu eeeeeerrr! A long tireless timber.

The Smiles What They're Worth

2008-04-08T02:07:00.000-07:00

The possibilities,
explored meticulously, mentacularily,
were all illusions.

The children born,
unconsciously, serendipitously,
were not.

Blossums and faerie tales,
Wet things of moonshine,
mystery, and madamouselles...
Vibration, some say, a wave.

A rise and fall, a cadence,
A high and low, a drama,
A smile and frown, encumbant,
and sweet love, eternal.

The possibilities,
remembered, rendered, decembered,
bore themselves a chain.

The children
found no metaphor to suit them
and so smiled again.

How many Dreams Does One Life Dance, if One Life Could Dance Dreams?

2008-03-08T18:32:00.000-08:00

I rely on tried-and-true witicisms, under-scored mercilessly by a pantheon of personalities. . .in such bedazzling splendor and number, I have been lost in my own illusion for years at a time. Depositing me at the foot steps de una casa de dio, to see suddenly: A moment unchanged from that of what I had seen before and had pretended to be ever since.

A Dream spent is a Dream Earned.

Jolly Saucy Crew

2007-12-18T11:18:00.000-08:00

Yes, and having chawed on verdant vegetables, licked on fresh fruit, and put blackened, red and white flesh towards my mortal sustenance, there is little doubt that feasts are enjoyable. Sweethearts and adament believers, storytellers, breasts and thighs -- I exclaim: "You delicatessens! I have consumed your flavor with honor and respect!"

A strong supposition it is indeed to state what is bad ought not be feared or fretted over unnecessarily -- for of all the minutes spent in this living interlude, suspicion and rot fear consume majorities. . .when, the fact is, food poisoning has shaefed many of us only once or twice. So what jurisdiction ought anxiety have in the face of such miniscule odds?

Yet, otherwise, one might contrarily believe, with such abundance, that 3 meals a day are too few. However, gluttony is indeed mentioned as a sin, causing me to ask: Does the aroma of a sensuous woman, fantastically imagined, and mentally devoured, constitute a meal? Can the yellow-tail dipped in sweet sauce and suculently melted with tongue be as gourgingly received as, say, 10 angus burgers? Personally, I eat my full as often as I can; quality relates to quantity but not quantifiably so -- my figure is trim but my belly is full.

Let me say to the fine denizens, where flavor is concerned, I have tasted the best. As you continue to offer me fine morsels, I continue to worship that which makes my hunger so and that which fills my sastisfactory glow.

What's for dinner?

Machines.

2007-12-11T21:40:00.000-08:00

Wicked are those machines, robots I dare say, who upon their mortal souls make judgements fair and square. Easily done by handbook and narrowly if ever dodged in dreams -- little respites despite our tender fraility.

And so wishes come forth in great abundance for something possessing something akin to the anti-monotony. Rebellion, some say? Nay, for always following inspiration are gloomy days; rather a grain like a feast or a drop from an ocean, for each. . .all can be satisfied by means of equation in this earthly place.

Philosophy and history are subjects attracted to dust. But for their trendy renewal, I see no point. Action breathes of motivation, and for what often leaves others at ill-ease; such a nicely spiced mantra, "just do it" sings the same tune for the furry kindgom, as does it for the birds and bees. Never seen is more decisive resolve than upon the lions claw as he pulls a gentle dinner into a fall. Upon which studies one curiously, as they themselves are food for the fungi, bacteria, and disease.

Abandon do many these clarities, sadly, for I say unto thee: The microscopic and galatic continue proving infinitely AN ABUNDANCE.

So for what and against whom exactly do we fight?

A grindstone, a waterwheel, subatomic particles, and gravity? As they cannot be stopped, their reality does weigh on me. Unto their duress, does my skin sag and my erection waver. . .my intent fails and emotion silently thunders. There is no enemy because the battle is already decided -- and where my bones will lay was once this living warrior.

Unbeaten by time, unridiculed by the sun, set free by night, to dream and dream of what is yet to become. My grease may be utilized daily by the clockwork, but my mind is free!

Trendy Tribal Inclinations

2007-11-07T16:50:00.000-08:00

It may be well worth noting that ice and groove can (and often do) find themselves cohabitating. Pornography, though crude, IS. And what protest can be voiced? Species have often found themselves behest to procreate before the tempest. O! How backwardly intelligent we are.

When longest winters slip on their own frozen March puddles, spring explodes forth, buds and nobules, like merchant men doing the sea man thing. Honey doth come forth after many a diligent beehive rumble. And dance floors did shake, for something about flesh always makes bodies writhe.

Sometimes I wonder, "How do I remain here so concentrated?" My mind is indeed recomspent to spin wildly with desire, desire, desire. And having fed so many wilder beasts without weariness or a sheepish smile smirking down upon me, I know I hold the reaper. Poised though it may be to strike down only me, I know there are several pure pints of juice lubricating this bloody machine.

So forward I suggest we march. Matriarchs who were first but soft mamas, little girl vessels, now rely entirely on what is heretofore to be called MAN. And ape-ish though he may generally be, spirit (if not insecurity) does remind him constantly that his undying and brutish ego is rather awkwardly and inseparably housed in a fragile, frustratingly mortal vehicle. But for some reassurance that he is more, there is nothing.

Tomorrow walks raped and terrorized in the mind -- and though it should be very obvious that this present moment (quite a casual and well-breathing moment, I might add) was once but a fear of the unknown as well. The past? So absolutely, blissfully SAFE -- what is gone forever curiously feeds the sculpting fury of our identity preservation tactics. Fantasy, I will admit, has erected many skyscrapers, and the stars still shine, pearls on an infinite bosum. . .but you are crazy to live there.

Today sings happily, because streams carry nuggets, and rivers float boulders -- the ocean sits on a single point in the deepest trench and fingers the sex of mother earth without evaporating away. So hot! Mars, it should be noted, was the God of War before he stained his water red. So shall we enjoy this tenuous moment before Old Faithful erupts again?

Grandpa Died Today

2007-08-27T22:03:00.000-07:00

My old papa -- what a man. He adventured, he continued to live life, right up until several weeks ago when a perpetual migraine forced him to the hospital. The doctors found a tumor, many tests were done, yahda-yahda-yahda.

While I was in Montana, a trip planned much in advance of these events, my family was busy trying to figure out how to handle his condition: Too good to stay in the hospital, not good enough to rock'n'roll.

The only night Mom was able to get him on the phone, I grabbed the phone to see how he was doing. He said, "Greg, I've never believed in all of this doctor phoo-phoo business, even though, I'll admit, they've saved my life along the way. But now they don't know what to do, and they are telling me I have to live in a nursing home. I won't do it. I won't live that way."

I heard what the old man was saying, so I did take the opportunity to say what I realized were probably my last words with him, "Well, Grandpa, whatever happens I will always remember you."

He said, "Aw well, I appreciate that, I really do. You're my grandson."

Yah, that's all he said, to which I responded, "I will do my best to live up to that honorably."

He chuckled, "Oh I'm sure you will -- you couldn't be any worse than me!"

I really loved that guy. He taught me how to work on cars, build houses, garden, philosophise, smoke, and bait the hell out of my dad. All with a twinkle in his eyes. And even though after Grandma died, he did indeed find a girlfriend on the internet and proceed to print out one-sheets displaying photos of every girlfriend he ever had, I know he loved Betty in a way that makes it seem really, really RIGHT that he is being buried at her side in Montana.

They say there are a million and one ways to die, and that must be true. I've also had the honor of seeing a valiant old woman thrust into the nursing home circuit only to shine her light on the old hopeless folks living there before her. So I can't say any way is better than the other.

No matter what, life is blessing, and perhaps its greatest blessing is to witness the mastery of our elders as they let go of it.

Freeloaders

2007-08-04T13:47:00.000-07:00

Something in the stars...there must be some lesson or realization that I am destined to have soon. Lately I am surrounded, literally, at home and at work, by freeloaders.

I think when I was younger, more enraptured with my own aspirations, it was easy for me to believe that other people (as they would egregiously claim to be) were similarly inspired.

As I get older and reflect on the sacrifices that have been necessary to actually attain and manifest these dreams, I begin to see clearly that some people are just totally full of shit. They lie to me, they lie to themselves, and what's more, they act like the biggest pussy-babies when I start to get firm with them. They squirm, they hi-tail-it, they pretend to be firm themselves -- and nothing changes. Arggh, it makes me mad!

It makes me mad because the language that they use is the exact same language I was forced to use with my ex-wife as I spent the entirety of our marriage working to change my career. And I know she must have felt something worse even that what I am feeling towards these cats because of the stakes.

The difference is that I WAS busting my ass towards something that I knew I could eventually make lucrative. These guys are entirely content to mooch their living space -- a dancer who claims to be the best in London but can't get a gig in LA, a Bob Dylan wannabe who doesn't like rap or trance or punk or anything new -- what is going to happen for them? How on earth do they expect an opportunity to arise without first getting right with their day-to-day life?

Arrggh, anyways. I'm done venting.

The Nicotine Companion

2007-07-15T13:11:00.000-07:00

A long-smoking friend of mine told me, as I began courting cigarettes after my divorce, "Dude, don't take the Nicotine Trip. Trust me -- it's hell." Of course, I ignored him and even avoided him for some time, presumming that he would bother me more about 'The Nicotine Trip'.

Curiously, when I saw him again, he only said, "Still smoking? Well, bro, you don't have to worry about me giving you shit, you're on this roller coaster ride now." I think there was a BWAH-HA-HA! after that.

Recently, an older smoker -- like early 50s, been smoking for at least a decade or more -- tells me, "God, I need to quit. I'm still young enough to be healthy. Instead I'm achey all the time, low energy." etc, etc.

I say, "Well, my own mother who's totally against smoking, told me, her own son, that she thinks 1-3 cigarettes a day can actually be good for you. Helps with digestion," she said.

To that comment, my surly friend exclaimed, "YAH RIGHT! That is harder to manage than quiting. I'd rather just use the patch!" Which he doesn't, and is still chain-smoking.

Nicotine is a personality. It is a relationship. Sure, it's an addiction, but that's what makes an addiction an addiction -- it becomes a sort of love affair outside of which you cannot see clearly.

For me, I tend to get lost in my mental landscape. When presented with something I absolutely MUST do, I get foul-tempered because I feel my independence is compromised. When presented with things I could do, I ponder the choice until the time is long past and I have missed the opportunity.

For me then, the Nicotine Companion becomes a sort of motivator. I too feel the effects and despair my diminished health, but curiously now, when faced with something I MUST do, Mr. Nicotine says, "Aw hell, just go do it, and then smoke a cigarette, yes?" Pues, so I do it and I get a lot more things done that should be done.

Of course, and when presented with things I could do, the battle rages: I could smoke another cigarette, right? Yes...but I know the effects kick my ass, so what happens is I am frickin' forced to set aside my mental masturbation and do *something else*. This part is painful for me, because I would love to just hang-out all day and think about doing things, but unfortunately, this results in 10+ cigarettes smoked in a day. And soon, walking becomes annoying to consider doing.

How curious, this addiction that is proven to be bad for people, actually serves me. Hola, mi nico! Quien crea tu fuchila? Mi amigo te tengo.

The Big Fall-Down.

2007-07-09T13:34:00.000-07:00

I used to say it all,
precious diamonds not as pretty as words,
pretty people not as percolating
as the way I could say it all.

Now knives cut no imaginary skins
and no fantasy-bottomed beauties
ever get theoretically
coddled, prodi-giggled, or teased.

Instead this sick real thing of mine is hard...
enough to be stolen, copied, and deleted
and bucked-up baby, because I still want it all,
the syllables, syllables -- raindrops as they fall!

I used to say it all
precious diamonds not as pretty as words,
pretty people not as percolating
as the way I could say it all.

Oh World What Can We Do?

2007-06-02T13:49:00.000-07:00

The lawn is wheedled, like a harvested rainforest.
Stop blogging.
Get up and risk your life.
Smoke to be reminded: You are frail.

All is clear the day you die.
So want not,
for desires are easily found,
and rarely escaped from.
There is more.

Morality is not a law...it is a discussion.
Righteousness cannot be judged by another being.
Time for your soul is eternal,
but time for you is fleeting.

Illusion, layered as thick as the earth's crust,
each MySpace page and virtual fuck
another layer, recycled humanity,
Why can't I participate blindly?

My Lives.

2007-05-30T07:41:00.000-07:00

Life #1:
I was born. I don't remember it -- some people seem to remember their swim down the canal...some people had a hard time with it. I must have slipped right out, because my first life knew no trauma. I remember a beautiful mobile hanging above my crib. I remember my blankey. I remember having a girlfriend who rode a tricycle. I had a wagon. I lost my favorite toy in the forest by the hayfield, and a strange man driving a galactic-sized combine stopped and something happened that day. It lives on the tip of my tongue, unable to be remembered, unable to be forgotten.

Life #2
I moved alot. So who cares? The past fades away like sunlight at the end of the day. I met a new girlfriend. She wanted to play doctor. I liked playing doctor; it got me excited. She became terrified of me...something like maybe I didn't remember...that day in the field. Whatever, now I know the man who touches little girls.

So I made a pal instead. We laughed so hard one day in my fort that every time we peeked at each other we would start howling again.

Life #3
But who cares? I moved alot. I discovered pornography and heard about war. So I asked Dad to teach me ragtime piano but he said he would hire a teacher. I was rejected. I asked Mom about war. And what she told me only scared me more. I choked on spagetti because I was clowning. I got scared to clown. I got sick. And then I kept getting sick.

Life #4
But no worries, because I moved alot. I learned to swear and then learned that my little brother sounded like a fool when he copied me. So I mocked him, instead of changing myself. I didn't have friends.

Life #5
The weather at least was nice -- farm country. The air smelled goood almost all year long. There were dark-skinned people around, something felt good about that place. I felt happy. Apple orchards are nice places. Irrigation ditches move very slowly. I discovered I could be crafty and Mom and Dad could still argue.

Life #6
Ahhh, I moved a lot. But I felt good going into this one -- maybe I could make this one last. But girls now were getting sexy and it occupied my mind entirely. I was timid and needed help. I met a pal who traded me confidence for my little brother. Then I tried to recreate my little brother in another person. Strangely, that life became some sort of altered-parallel-dimension, because odd fragments of it still live on. Blood is thicker than water.

Life #7
None-the-less, I moved on. I became possessed, I thought, with success, but what I really wanted was pussy. I was stupified to retardation by the female body. So much so that when I made a new girlfriend, I was afraid to touch her, and she got fucked by my roommate instead.

Life #8
So I decided this time around to get fucked myself -- easier than fucking somebody. I got the hell fucked out of me, and I was unhappy for EVER.

Life #9
A new girlfriend saved my sorry ass, and we shared ganja. But then I got sick again, and I grew concerned that somehow these lifetimes were all actually connected. Karma became suddenly an undeniable thing and I grew more and more sick considering everything that had happened.

Life #10
I recovered thanks to my decision to do so. I thought it was for love of a person I once knew -- but she went away and eventually I discovered that it was just for Love.

Life #11
Strange Life Number Eleven. So much memory of so many other lives, you know, I'm telling you, I've moved a LOT. Here's what I know after 10 lives: Family is everything. Blood is thicker than water.

Oh, and also, the next life in seems inevitable and that's O.K.

Every So Often

2007-03-26T15:12:00.002-07:00

Every So often, we get through a little sluuuuuuump. Call it Mercury Retrograde, call it hormones --whatever it is, it brings us right down to the griddle. . .and then, we get through it and wah-lah!!!, Ain't life suddenly worth living?

I find at these times a clarity as to why I am here, why the world is the way it is, and even why such an experience of clarity cannot persist without variation. I make connections. I feel good, get excited, and I talk too much.

Life is a cycle; be it night and day, or life and death; life is a cycle. Enlightenment is simply time-trialed and proven knowledge of what is undeniable, throughout this fluctuation. Faith is a by-product of this knowledge because it equips the mind to fight off those things that would suggest something less than God.

The Occult studies the mechanics of living, and presumes ultimately that each individual is their own, exclusive God interpreter. Meaning that everyone (especially those who have come to realize their power) are gods. The world stands at the command of every attained individual. In fact, reality exists but only for our collective agreement that it is so, regardless of personal accountability.

The tiers of human possibility (everything from mad-apes to inter-dimensional shape-shifters) are what we call Trips. Since anything is possible, it really only requires the steadfast desire that something become so to make it so -- it just takes time to get there, hence, it is a trip. Trips take you far away from home, making it difficult to return when you want to, and painful when you must.

Drugs are tools that we have discovered accelerate or moderate the assembling or disassembling of Trips. Much can be quickly learned (albeit not mastered) about the Occult while transitioning in-and-out of these states, and so people use them seeking such power.

All of Human History is within each of us, and it really only extends to the depth which we have comprehended our ability to be alive right in the present moment.

Love is a construct which parallels God. A philosophical notion, a weave that makes strong the fabric of reality. . .a truth that all things are really one thing, and so -- divided into entities as we are -- we may not destroy others due to envy, fear, and hatred of that which we prefer not to see in our SELVES. Love saves us all, no matter our interpretations, no matter our belief systems, no matter our desires & attachments -- Love saves us all.

5,389,642,007 Lifetimes.

2007-02-26T21:13:00.000-08:00

That's right, five billion.

There is a number that certain eastern philosophers believe to be the number of lifetimes it takes for one soul to become enlightened. I believe that number is derived like this:

YOUR BIRTH = All the people that were alive the moment you were conceived. (classic reincarnation karma rules would apply for this selection of people, I think)

+

YOUR LIFE = All the people who were BORN in your lifetime. Ah.

...and upon your enlightenment, then the number for you stops growing!

This is a very good thing to have happen, because the less of yourself (I mean people who have lived lives) with whom you have to reckon, the sooner you can be at peace. For as many amenable clones as there are, the monsters are a different story.

I am currently testing this theory, as once some time ago now, I had an experience which certainly seemed like enlightenment. And I know it was, because ever since that moment, my life has plodded on in exactly the same ship-shod unpredictable way -- and despite all of the crazy shit that has happened, my realization from way back when is still true.

However, I still consider myself in the beta-testing-phase of this Enlightenment Theory -- that is my disclaimer to these observations:

Since that moment, I have not met any new personalities. I don't mean that with any tone of, "Gawd everybody is such a wanna-be soapbox movie-star...I've seen it all before." I mean it in the tone of, "Every person I have met -- as much I may squirm from accepting it -- I recognize in myself." This makes strangers VERY FAMILIAR to me.

In fact, this has made life utterly more entertesting & deraining, for each person is such a wealth of discovery about my sad-but-true addiction to myself, I can't help but be eager & alive for every encounter. Where is my gaddamn flask?

Because it turns out there were a lot of lot of lot of people born before I realized this and started paying attention. And so there are over five billion worth of idiosyncracies I must get to the bottom of before, before, before...I ever get truly enlightened.

Cookie Punch and Such Stuff

2007-01-06T01:39:00.000-08:00

Ultimately, we all must gather to the fine ridiculous. Upon which time all things that have had sympathetic interests will find inspiration and good-heartedness. This, of course, is entirely dependent upon several flies who are commonly regarded suspiciously.

After some scrumptuous dinner-swapping and good laugh-squeltching, nobody (it turns out) is really finely tuned. Those that found utterly repulsive desires did, in good time, orgasm wildly. But, batteries were indeed involved, and some celebrities did blush. I don't exactly count, for all that is absolutely wondered is beyond those things which do the babbling. You know what I mean.

And then came many rabble-rousers whose fine leggings did arouse, and whose fierce desires did excite. For they had been chosen for wrestling, and manly were they who could grab sensitively their partner's organs of firelight. And shunned were those who did speak many tongued non-beauties of opulescent ectasies. Ironies did abound, and it was said by all those browsers of twead suits that the day would erect from the pits of flesh (and weeds) a thing of such putrid interest that all would writhe with hunger.

So, as pixels came to pass and many graphical interfaces were explored, the possibilities of endless copulation and penance by hellfire seemed particularly gleeful. Oh well, because like I always say, he who is named Jack is not named Dick.

My absolute and fine eye-sight, when combined with cookies and fruit punch as aforementioned -- I tell you with red-faced excitement -- means nothing . . . especially compared to the inspiration which did fall out of the hole quite suddenly, and with vengeful passion.

She -- in a sense of sexful metaphor -- is something of a mathmatical purity, of course, and thereby to be reckoned with cautiously. That is, if skylights are to be fucked, then thrust I say, thrust! But until then, we all shall find great victories in the by-and-by, and in variable amounts of time, when each cockaminie tick does inject venom, all will be healed.

O! For poetry is of itself not natural and quite distasteful among debutantes and diplomats, if such tongue-licking and lip-smacking can be tolerated.

I, for one, will not find my foreskin stuck upon thin rails of frost bite again -- no, not ever again. So I do suggest, and with some vehemence, that you take your rattlers and put them to flacid use elsewhere. Though as adults would be perverts, all children do sing as if copulating, and obviously without such innocence, they would be hung.

As I have always said despite dark moods and devilish tempers, it is a fine, fine thing, and of course, many avenues of prosperity, desperity, and veil-casting have been attempted.

Perhaps nonsense is fighting madly for sustainence, and if one were but to find enduring pubic satisfaction, all would kick ass.

Sacred Love

2006-11-13T13:37:00.000-08:00

Guys, guys, guys. Ain't it nice to be with a woman?

...

Well, ain't it??

You see, the problem with this whole THING that makes you a man -- the testoserone, masculine, power, conquoer-at-all-costs thing -- that we are soooo good at, so fly, so smooth, so ultra coolwit thang....is that, you can manifest for yourself, in the short-term, nearly anything you desire. Be it pussy or power or just twisted fantasy. But that is Man power, that's what it is, and it's a pain-in-the-ass to get it done.

Woman power is easy. She's got it and she knows it. In fact, everything that men -- all men -- think and feel and do towards her, REMINDS HER SHE'S GOT IT. So, you can be damn sure that she isn't forgetting her power.

Like we do.

Unloved, over-loved, wanting, needing...sometimes groveling like masturbating bags of bones MOMMAS BOYS; we make it hard for a Woman to see us otherwise because we stray so far from home. It becomes easy to neglect and forget our Royal Lineage.

But no worries, if you DO forget, there is always a good woman around who will remind you about what it is (and I'm sorry, gay boys almost count, they've got the spirit, but they want to get in your pants with the fervor that only a man can bring to the table, and so their agenda must be carefully monitored) . If you accept Love...oh yes she might really give it all to you, including her flesh...then you will be firmly grounded in reality, dealing with your shit.

My experience of Love is that it is much, much, much bigger than us. Our body's lifespan, that is.

So, because it's so big, Her lessons take a long time to learn. To come to grips with. To handle maturely with all of the power that we harness as men.

Recently, I have been recognizing in males -- like a desire I already know in myself -- a willingness to take the lessons of many women. That's commendable, but along with this special gift, they have taken the flesh.

Flesh is a very, very big lesson. Flesh is the permission to BE HERE; when flesh ages and dies, you must go somewhere else. This body can no longer be your home.

An important question is: Where will you go?

My thought in writing this segment is this: Love is sacred. If you search out love in your heart, you will find it. If you follow it, you will become one with it. Then the love you are trying to share with another person will be clear. Once it is clear, you will have learned who you are. And you will know what you must do to be right with Sacred Love.

From there things get better and better, no matter with what complications you are grappling.

And young men, if you seek power and you have fantasies regarding the manifestation of your power, then I have this for you: You will know no greater strength than being, I mean being Love.

* * *

A Recipe for Sacred Love:

Stop the catch phrases. Repeat nothing you've heard said better. Question your stance, question your walk, question your talk. Don't go crazy. Listen closely to things that seem new to you. THINK CONSTRUCTIVELY, don't waste the power of your mind, but don't forget the power of your heart. Don't be such a stoner, because there really is a difference between Spontanaity and a PLAN, even though both are appropriate. Use your medicine to achieve your goals, and be honest with yourself. Endure the pain you bring upon yourself, because it is your responsibility to do so -- everyone else has plenty of their own. Dream. Know your dreams. Keep your desires in respect to your dreams. Do not disrespect your dream, but do not be a slave to it either. Get a hobby and excell at it. Gain pride in your Work. Take your Work to work. Work smarter. Support and love your friends, but do not believe them -- they hate you for being weak and they hate you for being stronger, they are your friends. Remember your family. Think about Family until you understand why you need to be a part of something Family, which is the root word for familiar. Notice things. Enjoy smiles. Hope for a good laugh, and be humble when it happens.

The Wheel of Karma -- and here is why:

2006-11-12T14:39:00.000-08:00

The Dalai Lama explains reincarnation as proof that compassion is not only necessary, but really the only intelligent choice. He does this by citing a mother's love of her son.

Well, for reincarnation to pa-roooove anything, we must first get on the same page about what it is.

Regardless of the mechanics -- whether it is a rebirth from the grave, or simply one stage of your life blossuming into the next -- regardless of the language of your understanding, if you accept that life is very much like the seasons, then you get it. This is reincarnation. Simple.

Life is indeed like seasons, and it is not hard to make such a comparison. Some periods of life are definitely more abundant with opportunity, youth, and lovely weather abound. Other periods are stormy and glum. And eventually, yes, we know a winter must come that puts everything to sleep until spring comes again. The process can happen quite efficiently without our consciousness of it, which is why reflection upon it can often very much enlighten your state of being.

So reincarnation, in some sense, is happening to us constantly. Now, what about it?

If you abstract this simple notion -- that even sleep and awaking in the morning is a form of reincarnation -- to the asymtotic extreme, you arrive at the conceptual model of the soul: Some aspect of you that is born, born, and reborn, and lives complete lifetimes...countless times...over the course of who knows how long.

The Dalai Lama proposes that eventually, everybody you meet has, in some lifetime or another, BEEN YOUR MOTHER. (Which just about splits my head in half, even though I first read this premise over five years ago!)

After I begin considering it, however, I found myself with every person I met, despite the conditions of my introduction to them, considering them as someone put in the unfortunate position of edumacating my misbegotten and terrific spirit.

It felt like I had discovered a new way of relating to people. For, as with all of us, some people seem to handle us with a gentle comprehension that makes our hearts ache with appreciation...while others seem to be in a great degree of discomfort...possibly all the time, or just while we're around? Hmm, hard to say! But so much so that I necessarily wonder with such people if I ought to change myself, so as to make this person -- this spirit who has been my mother -- feel better about me!

This is the behavior of every child who seeks to make their mommy happy. No matter mommy's reason for being sad, if the child can discern a way of helping, oh Lord, you know they will try, even at their own expense.

But MANY TIMES, people, MANY TIMES it is the PARENT WHO IS THE CHILD!!! It is the parent who needs parenting! And though the child has the capacity, truly, has the capacity to change themselves in light of their elder's stance -- when the lessons are messed up, well, you end up with another generation feeling much like we all feel: sort of disenchanted and not particularly jazzed about it all.

What happens when you meet, through reincarnation, a mother of yours? Well, depending on who they are at that moment, your spirit is taken back to the experience you had during your lifetime with them as your mother. If your head is clear and stable enough to surf in the astral plane long enough to thread together the thoughts/intuitions/and premonitions, you will re-experience some powerful emotion that has long since been put away. You will learn something about yourself.

This happens with every encounter, with every glance, and even with inanimate objects, the earth and the sun. Everything, not just every person, has been your mother.

And since the human relationships are so charged with volital frustrations, misunderstandings, and discontents...try instead making a pilgrimage to Sequoia National Park in California, finding a tree that you are drawn to, and considering HER as your mother. Then, when you go back to the people meditation, you will have have some insights regarding patience.

Eventually, as you grow more and more savvy with all of these mommies, it is my belief that the roles begin to sort of flip-flop, and you begin to realize that all of these souls have also been YOUR CHILDREN. You forgive, as you have forgiven your mother for the complications of the past, and you get on with trying to set an example of what it is to be a decent human being.

WAH-LA!

The Age of Aquarious

2006-08-01T11:28:00.000-07:00

Mythologies cite several cutures in the history of man that lived in peace, Atlantis being one of the most popular. I believe it is generally accepted that such mortal harmony existed only in legend.

However, I think most people -- when they stop to check in with their dissatisfaction -- know there is a potential in every human heart for social utopia.

But how to get there from here?

Well, there are a lot of false prophets these days, and this revolution of global media has so far been their soap-box. We are inundated from conception with their audio and their video -- so it is not surprising that, by the time we are adults, our realities are pretty confused and conflicted.

That conflict must be worked out. Each person must start on the inside and work their way out. There is no map or manual -- every individual has their own dream of discovery that must be explored to its fullest. There are only a handful of real teachers who could actually know you. A soul is blessed beyond comprehension to be initiated by their own true guru. But, if you wait around for it, most likely it will never happen.

None-the-less, the lessons may be simultaneously taught and learned by the teacher within. Every moment of interaction and reflection is an opportunity to grow. And love is -- it really is! -- what makes it work out.

Once you have begun to live within an awareness of physical/mental/spiritual health (and the difficulty of actively achieving balance with it), you will begin to find it more possible to correct your self and forgive your lovers, friends, and family. The rewards will be apparent.

It takes years of practice, but each day can be experienced as a step forward, and over time, your faith will take on a caliber that cannot be challenged. The Truth is the truth.

Eventually, a synergy will develop. Other individuals on the same path will come into your life, and new avenues that you had never imagined will become known to you.

Finally, when you have really started to become a fully mature human being, you will begin to understand just exactly your capacity to manifest your reality. And, after a few more years of overcoming self-hatred for all your selfishness, you will start to really get comfortable with who you really are.

An individual who has reached this level of attainment is powerful beyond dogma, beyond government, and beyond life or death. They have learned how to and when it is appropriate to die...so the rest of the time, they are truly ALIVE.

To bring about the 'Age of Aquarious', or some such utopia of peace and understanding, we need -- literally -- an army of enlightened men and women. We need them in every city, in every town, on every continent, speaking every language. And all they really need to be doing is truly participating in their own lives, handling the drama, and living their dreams.

The ramifications of even ONE PERSON stepping in line and feeling the true rhythm of Love is greater than words. The consequences -- all divinely orchestrated -- ripple outward like a geometric pattern on a smooth pond, touching and reverberating with everyone they meet. Even the infinitity of the universe is nothing compared to it.

THE LOVE SECRET EXPOSED:

2006-06-22T22:26:00.000-07:00

Let us presume that I have been to Mordor, and I have successfully cast the Ring of Power (which was in my possession, baby, OH YAH!) back into the Flame.

If I had done this -- and you, being a tenacious student, were sharp-thinking -- you would realize that I might have a few things to say about the Journey. Things which might aid you in understanding this rascally path we are all on. And of course, you would remember at all times that I am just another kraZy bLogGer&#->with<-nothing->to_,say.

Ok.

Here we go.

They tell us it is ONE LOVE. This is so true it'll knock your socks off. (I really mean that. Oh it might actually seduce your socks off, if you are playful like me, haha...and really, I mean, go ahead, exercise your nasty minds, but uhmmmm, well, don't forget the math => it all comes back to ONE LOVE, and that is you. 1+1=1. You. (Who the hell are you anyway??) )

So how 'you' LOVE is a rather IMPORTANT QUESTION.

Most of us tend to externalize ourselves. This is often refered to in eastern philosophy as seeing only the Veil of Illusion. Oh, the veil is real, and it will kick your ass as quickly as it will kiss it -- if you spend all of your time in analysis of this mystery, you have not even but stepped out upon the Path:

The Path of Self-Knowing.

Gnarly, ya'll, gnarly process. We are wired to love and love and love and love and love it all -- all our idiot-blind friends, our ball-breaking employers, our cursedly manipulative families -- we love it all with such a phoenix of stamina and passion, that, shit, we don't cry about it most of the time, we just laugh. That is our potential as Lovers, and as much as we are designed to do it that way, the fine print -- yes, the FINE PRINT OF LIFE -- is that we are mortal beings with a strange array of complexities, taking shape in the form of personality, physicality, sexuality, and *I*dentity.

In order to cross the void, and reach the heart-cave of another human being, you basically have to be the fucking bombest-ass heroic, persevering, keen and creative warrior, mother, and lover that has ever been known to mankind. Period.

Hollywood scandalizes this private adventure for us, making us think we need to look a certain way, talk a certain way, blah, blah, blah, just to be this caliber of Love Samurai. That is a damn shame. Wake up, little children, wake up! Each and every one of us may reach our dreams, we may be fulfilled entirely. We may be the Captains of our Heart!

Once you get to really start getting to know your SELF, you begin to have a sense of sympathy for all creatures, great and small. You have sympathy because you have recognized their plight is as your own, and you are affected by this to such a level that, out of the fire, rises something called COMPASSION.

Now you're really cooking! The heat is on because there is no where to hide. Every nuance of every glance of every insect is communication aimed directly at you. I think it is possible to vanish into thin air at this point. In fact, it might be preferable, but the irony is...now that we are really tasting the magnitude of this fantastic amusement operation we have started for ourselves some several millenia ago, it is rather difficult to extricate ourselves from it entirely. It is both an attachment thing and an occult thing.

So now begins the real work. Years and years and years and years and years and years and years and years and years and LIFETIMES of work. Disassembling the illusion with the care of a farmer, of a christ. Because, even though you may be stumbling on to the Eternity of it all, all of your fine brothers, sisters, mothers, and fathers are still very much convinced of...everything. And it is One Love, so, who is to say they are wrong? Drive that nail in with a smile, baby, and pray for your Easter Sunday.

During this work, cycles will become apparent. First the very smallest cycles, like day to night. Then seasons. Then lifetimes, and by that, I mean the time it takes for us to make it from one major transition in life to the next. Seven year cycles? I don't know, some people are speed demons and others are stoners. They say that people like Ramana Maharashi were at such an advanced state of understanding that they could cycle through these lifetimes at will.

The underlying fuel to these cycles is, surprise, Love. Love in the mortal world is a two-headed beast. Sorry to break it to ya. It is what you WANT versus what IS. The more disparate and detached these two things are from each other, the more you are going to suffer.

The LOVE SECRET, then, is outrageously simple. Hahaha! You really just need to work it out! Your desire and vision of love is pretty much AWESOME. I know it is. And I also know that 'what IS' loves us with an unbearable depth of soul, so much more than we know!

So, if I'm saying anything at all, it is this: Go for it. Put 'em together! Make peace, surrender to what is because you KNOW it has been a product of your dreams that brought this all to you in the first place. Go for it with a new dream, securely concentrated in your heart! Go for it with Love. And go for it knowing that it is all coming to you.

God Bless you and look out!

Miracle Streak!

2006-06-22T06:38:00.000-07:00

I have realized what I live for: The Daily Miracle. Yes, the more I make myself available to participate in these small moments, the more they happen to me.

For example, yesterday's miracle: As I am walking back from dinner the long way (to get exercise I guess), I end up approaching a parked car as two older ladies are getting out. Right as I pass, I realize the woman in the passenger side, the side I am on, is having a hard time pulling herself out of the car.

Instinctively, I approach to help, though I become suddenly worried that she will be insulted that I have assumed she needs help standing up. In her hands she is holding a coffee and a a banana, so I figure the best way I could help is by holding her stuff to give her a free hand. But as I reach to take her items, she hessitates. I think, "Oh great, she is worried I'm going to run off with her damn banana!"

At this point I am pretty out-of-my-comfort-zone, so I turn away, figuring I have made enough trouble. But she calls out to me, "Just grab my arm!" Ah!

I return, hold her by the forearm and we rather easily pivot her out of the car. She exclaims, "You are strong! Thank you!" I politely decline her compliment with a, "Naw, I just lean into it," and proceed on my way. Back into my dark thoughts and self-loathing.

But above the regular mental din, my mind keeps repeating those words of a stranger: "You are strong!"

How great is that?

Made a Miracle!

2006-06-19T11:39:00.000-07:00

Sleep deprivation is sort of like a drug, and I can dig it. So I'd been up for nearly 30 hours. I'd stayed up all night to finish a job. It was done. I was feeling like celebrating, if only by walking among people on the boardwalk and feeling the intensity of their lives. My job was in Venice, I drove over to 3rd Street Promenade in Santa Monica.

I caught a movie, bought a cool belt buckle. Drank more coffee! Drifted, looked at people, felt the heat, felt myself sweating. I smoked my last cigarette. Listened to a brilliant musician playing a harp-like guitar instrument. I hung out at the soup kitchen for a while, overlooking the ocean, chatted with homeless folks.

On my way back to my car, I hear my favorite variety of street performance: It's the one where a drummer has assembled a set of pots and pans, buckets and other items, and is freeeeeking ROCKING it. Well, I heard this dude's rhythm and I had to immediately j-walk just to get closer.

I could immediately tell that the few people hanging around were all on the same tip. We all knew this guy was the bomb-diggity shiz-nit. The rhythm was captivating. I danced on the street like a crazy man. I talked with this dude about church and how this is like how church should be.

When I look back to the drummer, I see that a four or five year old little boy has befriended him, acquired a set of drum sticks and is testing out the kit! The wise street performer shows the boy a couple of things and they begin playing together.

There is no way to describe this experience! This relationship between master and student, this pride that I felt in seeing the little boy instinctively understand the rhythm and play along. The joy I felt when he would get self-conscious only to hear everybody in the crowd say, "KEEP GOING!!" It was the most beautiful thing ever!

When they got tired, I approached. I gave the guru a five dollar bill for his trouble. Then I turned to the boy and gave him a single. Everybody said, "Ahh! Your FIRST DOLLAR as a musician!"

I don't think I need to explain the significance of such a moment. For every witness, for myself, and most profoundly for the developing consciousness of this young boy's talent -- it was perfect. We all played our parts perfectly. I felt myself to be a perfect tool for a divine agenda so much larger than myself. It made me feel humble and bigger than the entire universe at the same time.

I only wish my lady had been there to experience it with me...

Depressed when I am tired.

2006-06-08T04:23:00.000-07:00

Working graveyard shifts -- darkness. My true love is broken. This product of my passion is the cage in which I now suffer. Beware, Dreamers!

All that you desire is to be had, actually, quite easily with patience and persistence. This is why they say, "Becareful what you wish for."

Karma is a law of nature. Though the details are, of course, wildly different, energetically every action begets an equal and opposite re-action. Love is the the variable. Where and how you spend your love is where you will be taxed.

Self-honesty is the meter by which you may moderate your behavior along the way, hopefully making your payment more bearable. But desire is desire is desire, and what we want often supercedes the reality of our love affairs.

You may escape these lessons for your entire life, if you desire. You will not go to a christian hell -- nay, you will realize that you chose to live an entire life IN hell. And then you will be gone.

All the Beautiful People

2006-06-05T19:32:00.000-07:00

I drift as I walk among you, my fellow human beings...
You show me who I am, by inflection, by expression
Every broken moment and curt conversation...
Another lesson.

I no longer hide my own humanity -- I am free to be!
and speak as I feel about anything and everything:
alas, every word, a mile further from my true identity...
Another lesson.

Love is what I have, Love! Love! Just Love coming in!
Love is what I want to give, to all, my true Love...
But she is just like me, blessed with everything...
I have nothing to give.

Another lesson.

Learning.

2006-05-30T18:57:00.000-07:00

As beautiful lovers we are lost outside our hearts.
I lure you away from yours and
You captured mine from the start.

Breakups bring out the Angels!

2006-05-18T18:40:00.000-07:00

I was hating myself last night after work. So I decided to buzz my head -- get a new thang going. I understand this is a very cliche activity for those suffering heart-break, but anybody who would knock it is either a fool or simply naive. It helped.

But I did a crappy job, so I had to go in this morning to get it fixed up by a professional.

My stylist was friendly and she had to laugh about the quality of my self-hack-job. We got to talking about relationships. She was so sympathetic to my divorce situation, I could tell she'd been on both sides of the separation thing. She really understood!

The uplifting, miraculous part of the conversation was her description of her current relationship: I am not sure how she did it, but she described, almost perfectly, how I imagine two lovers could relate to one another. It made me feel so good to hear that these two people were experiencing such a thing.

It gave me hope!

I have been feeling so ridiculous for believing in my dreams of interpersonal love -- feeling responsible for my failed relationship because I know I wanted it to be more than it was. Feeling so foolish for not loving what I had more, as if more love could have saved it.

And then on the other side, the side of me that recognizes my mortal inability to control these things, I have been loathing mankind in general; feeling that we are a cursed and hopeless species, etc, etc.

But my stylist's story blew all of those thoughts away. She reminded me that dreams are worth believing in. That they can come true.

I can't say today has been great, but it is a fraction better than yesterday, and that is seriously awesome in itself.

My Homeless Angel

2006-05-16T18:42:00.000-07:00

Chris, the Mason. His suit is only slightly dirty. He looks astounding, considering his lifestyle. He has a nice scottish cowboy hat. His beard looks good. His eyes sparkle. Oh he is a good one, yes, he is.

I am smoking a cigarette in Venice. Drinking a coffee during my work break. I had walked to my car to cry; I got it out of my system. Now coffee and smoke. My heart still aches.

He approaches, "It was Mother's Day on Sunday," he says. I smile, yes. Yes, God Bless our mothers. "Care for a cigarette?" I ask. Yes. I light him. He asks if I celebrated Mother's Day, "Right?" Did I get fucked up?

I said, "Oh yes, I was totally fucked on Mother's Day."

"Were you drinking wine or the hard stuff," he asks.

I laugh. "Oh, shit, man, I was doing the hardest stuff: True Love!"

He laughs. We talk about life. About people. About how so many folks act like they don't know you. We shake our heads.

"It's in the Bible, you know," he says.

I nod. "Hell yah it is."

He gets curious. He says, "What do you think is in the Bible?"

I explain, "I like the Psalms. It's like poetry that really just says it the way it IS."

He glows and nods. He tells me he is a brick-layer. He built most of Marina del Rey. I tell him my family are carpenters. I explain that I don't build houses -- I build virtual reality. I am programmer. He appreciates. The times change, but our work does not.

We agree that we are all one. That you must always do a good job. You must try your best to do it right. "Step it up TWO LEVELS!" like my boy Rockin Seven Deven Electric Eleven says it. He understands.

He tells me a story about a party he once stumbled across. Everyone was dancing and making merry, and he did some of his own dancing. A man came up to him and said, "You look like you need something." He was thinking like, "What the &$#% does that mean?" But the cat pulls out a $20 and hands it to him. He was like O.K. The cat says, "No, you know, I think you need more than that," opens his wallet and pulls a $100 bill out for Chris. Two more bills just like it slip out and fall on the ground. The cat walks off. $320 gift from a stranger!

Chris saved my heart today. I want anyone who reads this to know: Magic is real. Angels are real. Stick with it. It hurts so much, I know it does -- I am in a gnarly place. But this is life, and we are here. So be here!

I am not afraid to Love. I love and love and love and love -- my heart opens. I bloom! See me! Here I stand! I hope to see you soon too...love...

The Light.

2006-04-28T18:11:00.000-07:00

As I walk, I approach the fenced driveway of a preschool. Two little boys, either one on a low-riding toddler-mobile, watch me as I approach. They seem to be twins. Maybe four years old.

Our eyes linger in each others as I glide closer. I am a loner, I decide I need not say hello, wave, dance, smile, and do all of those other strange adult rituals. We have already seen each other.

I avert my eyes as I get close, so as to not force them away from my silence.

I have passed them, and as I continue on my walk I hear one of the boys say rhythmically, "La luz..."

Love forever unending love.

2006-04-25T00:31:00.000-07:00

I have come to a strange point in my art...

My journey is completed. Every opportunity was presented to me -- those that appealed to me, I indulged. I am satisfied.

The period of my life that I now face seems not to require my philosophically witty, mentally-stringent interpretations. It just IS.

What can be said about life and all of its happenings? Anything I might say is something that is already infinitely available and understood by each person in their own intensely personal way. For myself, my understanding is complete...and I see almost no means to communicate that to anyone else. I just continue to feel the surrender in my heart that creates peace within myself. And the rest happens quite miraculously.

Poetry still appeals to me, as it can be made rhythmically interesting and can be incorporated into music. And I have been enjoying singing very much. I begin to realize that I did not spend the last seven years learning to play guitar to be a guitar player...rather, I learned how to play in order to become familiar with the instrument that is built into me! My voice! I find great release in being able to express my emotions in this way.

And yet, when I was out there...lost in the bounty, you might say...I found guidance in the artistic endeavors of those able to embody the essence of what I was searching for. So in this sense, I do feel somewhat obligated to use the skills that I have honed in order to provide detritus for any who may be in need.

A strange gift, I must say, when there are homeless, sick, depraved folks out there who could use a heckuva lot more than a perfectly rendered line -- an expression of infinitely accurate spontanaity, a gesture of divine guidance.

None-the-less, there is an individual freedom possible which transcends all limitations of time and space. I cannot advise anyone on how to open one's heart to it, but it has everything to do with Love.

A Dream of Utopia and Love

2006-04-15T07:12:00.000-07:00

Many of us had gone to a wonderful land, a place where labor and love produced fruit.

I had seen the challenge in the eye of a young sprinter, and I had begun running the distance. I ran all of the way up to the penacle, faster than ever before, and within the threshold of my breath. The lessons of this place had made me a more powerful individual.

It was after that, shortly, that many of us were ushered onto a journey into the flawless heart of this land. We had received the Special Invitation. The King and the Queen even had been willing to travel, to us, just to meet us! But that was unheard-of, and so many of us proceeded on a trip of great distance, through the magical realms, via the mechanics of fantasy.

Many invited could not handle the knowledge. The experience was over-whelming. They had to return. I saw friends give up, but I knew I would go the entire distance.

We saw phenomenon of nature, designed perfectly into the architecture by consciousness and appreciation. History seemed not long enough to account for the fabrication of it all. We dined and were entertained. We traveled endlessly. Every step was filled with light, wonder and awe.

The selfishness of a spider man caused the pressure of our flying machine to lose stamina along the way. This could not be accounted for, as mortals had never taken this journey, and so the Captain had no idea something like this could even happen. So when we arrived, we were lacking in steam as we rose and rose, and rose and rose -- like a telescope extending -- upward, toward bliss, toward the Center. And we did not make it.

No one could understand it. Not us, not our guides. We had to go back.

So, my woman and I were returning home. We returned through the gardens where thousands of us had lived and learned the ways of this place. Still, everything was wonderful in the way that we had always known our special land to be wonderful. More so now, as our hearts had the perspective of having journeyed -- unsuccessfully -- to see the Center. For, along-the-way, we had seen the fundamental marvels of this civilization... We could see now the awesome heritage upon which this utopia had been built.

We met a strange man sitting on a bench. He was holding a piece of the magic, a crystal from that Special Place. He would gaze through it, much to the exclusion of everything around him. We asked him what he was doing. He explained that if you look through the magic, you will see the magic. He believed that if he found another rock, complementary to his current piece, then...I don't know...perhaps he would re-experience the Special Place? Transport to the Center?

My woman sat down next to him. Damien and I exchanged glances. Fascinated, she asked, "Why would you think to do such a thing?"

He laughed effortlessly. I was now watching him, comparing myself to him. He said, "As a boy.." blah-blah-blah. A cute story about a cute behavior that led him to develop these theories. By the end, she was relaxed, her hand had fallen to his unkept curly locks, and her fingers automatically adjusted his hair.

I saw her eyes turned heavenward, from my low vantage point. She looked on him with fascination, as though she could not resist his enchantment, his mystery. He was only funny-looking to me. His peculiarities reminded me that I am odd myself -- made to feel special only by her love of me. And I thought, "Why should she choose me?"

She realizes herself at that moment. Her fingers recoil, twisting. She is shocked at herself, chiding herself, "Arrgh, Stop!"

The man says zealously while gazing into his rock, fingering it, and cradling it gluttonously, "After all, life is just touch-and-go."

Damien speaks, in his blistering way, accusatorily at her, "Yes, it is just touch and go, isn't it?" My heart feels broken. I stand and walk some distance, perhaps to smoke, but even my cigarettes seem in on the betrayal. I look at their backs, not needing to, because I know she is getting his number. Her sketchbook is open.

When she stands, she catches me snapping all of my cigs in half. I turn to walk away, feeling replaced. I further bemoan my own dramatic self, because now, behind my back, I can feel Damien challenging her to choose her man.

She rushes ahead of me and falls to her knees. "Forgive me, my King." I stop and am stuck in myself. I look at Damien. His mouth hangs open, stupified by, and almost jealous of her action. I look back at my baby, she is beginning to cry, on her knees, supplementing to me, begging forgiveness.

This is not what I want, and I drop to my knees to face her. She kowtows even lower, cowering to be beneath me, sobbing. I try to reach out to her, to hold her close, to raise her, but only our knees are kissing, our bodies unable to come together in this position.

Desire

2006-04-11T20:12:00.000-07:00

Shit. I haven't had anything to say for weeks.

Easier to swallow:

2006-03-26T22:13:00.000-08:00

Since I have so many words, generally, let me distill it for you:

God good
God good
God good
God good
God good
God good
God good
God good

God good
God good
God good
God good
God good.

See what I am saying? That's all I ever say.

You Can't Keep My Love for Free

2006-03-26T11:16:00.000-08:00

I can't keep your love for free,
I can't keep your love for free...

You're a pretty thing,
The prettiest thing I ever seen!
Your flowers bloom,
and your sunshine beams!
But there are two sides, two sides
to everything in the beginning
Tell me, do you think love is free?

I can't keep your love for free,
I can't keep your love for free...

I give you what I've got to give:
All my love, the chance to live.
But don't go out hustling me,
those are my heart-strings, baby
I'm a good old-fashioned man
mad-crazy for you: Woman.
I think we all want what we already got.

Seems like our love just ain't free,
Turns out there is always this penalty behind everything
And I think it's the way, the way it really be!
I'm ok! I'm ok! Just let me die peacefully!

Something lasts forever
inside you & inside me
I do want to show you, if you do want to see
and it's Free! Free! Free!
Believe me, baby, believe me!
I see all these mortal deficiencies!
Thaaaat's why!

I can't keep your love for free,
I can't keep your love for free.

True Love Is?

2006-03-24T10:38:00.000-08:00

Somebody assumed I have a broken heart, in light of everything.

But check this out: My actual experience is that I know -- because it is the truth -- that I truly surrendered to love. There is nothing to regret about that! It is a choice that is endless, and this new chain-of-events is but more odd capitulation to that divine schematic. I deeply feel that to be true.

I did not begin our relationship with that clarity. I did not know what I wanted. I did not know what love was. But I learned over time, because I was willing, because love is the only way, and because Leticia was the girl.

So it took me over 7 years of seeing the impact of my ignorant, mortal ways on her continence to cause me to realize, on a much deeper level, the heart of Woman. Once I began to see that, once I begin to realize that I am nothing without that love, the surrender of my mad-passion became much easier.

None-the-less, as I was becoming aware of the awesome potential of Relationship, I was actually neglecting the real person representing that concept. I see this as my mistake, and I can't really beat myself up about it because, obviously, I needed to learn what I learned.

So I am not broken-hearted. Rather, I feel healed. I feel more alive and equiped to love again than ever before. And I do entertain myself with the possibility that she feels the same way. Rather than make me sad, it makes me happy to think of that little girl -- who I love -- feeling the love of a man prepared to love her without his past. It will make her happy, and she is wonderful beyond all words when she is happy!

On my side, I more actively hope for such an occaision to arise! I imagine that I too have learned something about the ebb and flow of relationship. I too have forsaken many childhood expectations of love and marriage. And so, I do feel prepared (and eager) to find someone with whom to try again.

I do not anticipate the process of finding such a person. This seems to be the most painful part, and I think I understand how divorce can easily lead into new disasterous relationships: It is very sad -- marriage rigously prepares the heart, mind, and body for a lifetime together. . .to not have that, suddenly, is to make my all of my struggle in vain. So, if I find a woman that I perceive to be honest with me, is willing to try, and I find attractive, I will move much, much faster this time. Why not?

I do not fear making the same mistakes again, because I was given plenty of time in a very loving environment to understand the errors of my last relationship. And whereas I could have been gluttonous with that opportunity (ok, so I was too), Leticia was a good mama and made sure I did not forget my lesson.

So what have I got to lose? I believe God is great, and I do believe life is an opportunity to experience the bounty of His blessing. So I go forward peacefully.

Life Debt.

2006-03-19T01:33:00.000-08:00

I embark from my first marriage with an optimistic outlook.

I was facing, about myself, for several years that I am my wife's suffering. I'm not sure how it got that way, or how I lost my sense of humor about it, or how maybe I just needed to be taught that it is still okay! I don't know, but that was the situation.

None-the-less, my "failed" marriage has only shown me the depth of her Love! I am more faithful, more eager to go forward with an open heart than ever before. In fact, every lesson she had for me -- no matter how painful for my ego -- was a beautiful display of her absolute sacrifice to spend her days with me, not someone meant for her, but someone willing to receive her education.

Her confessions of relief and happiness at her own new-found freedom is my evidence to suggest all is right and all is good. My love, too, of her is sincere, and so it was with a heavy, heavy burden that I had to accept she was suffering on my account. To be honest, it was hell to see such a beautiful creature so maimed by my demon.

Ah, but now she is free, and she sings and flies away like a bird. Does the freedom of the Bluejay make Buddha sad? Nay, he smiles and loves her song all the while she sings.

A REAL HUMAN BEING!

2006-03-17T01:05:00.000-08:00

And guess what?! This real human actually SAW ME with his/her eyes and mind open, and asked AN INTELLIGENT QUESTION!!!!! MY GOD!! How I have missed you!!

(I am dancing! I am spinning around! I am drunk and happy!)

For context, they said in response to my poem I wrote about turning 30:

OK, so yes this was one of your best pieces, but does that mean you are going to stop here?

Why the need for public personal expression? I am researching this whole blogg thing in comparison to published autobiographies, so I am curious about your choice of media and how it affects what you present.

Ahhhh, God how I love this person for stroking my ego while checking me at the same time!

Enough. Let's get down to business and try to address this comment:

First. It is true, I haven't posted much lately. Without getting into the ramifications of divorce, I'll just say, yo, I've been busy. a'ight? But I assure you, this obsession I have with crafting communication out of language based on this random series of fleshy mental impulses, I doubt will be stopping any time soon.

But then again, this person is researching autobiographies, which assumes a context somewhat larger than a week or two of a person's life. And so I must respond on even a grander level:

The post that is refered to is actually the first "song" I have tried to write. I wrote it to match the melody of "The Entertainer" by Billy Joel -- I admit -- so I could go to my local karioke bar and impress the ladies with my totally original, rap-master lyrics. My motives for creativity are so shallow, I suppose.

But luckily, and thank God, I do not intend to stop here. I have come a long journery of self-expression, from the bosom of Mother Montana to the cold concrete of Father Angeles. My poem is a shout of enthusiasm, for I truly feel that I am ONLY 30! my failures are behind me. I feel that life holds so much promise yet...I am but honored to go forward with all the humility I can muster.

Ahhh, but my Intelligent Human delved even deeper and asked, WHY? Why the need for a blogged personal expression in comparison to a published auto-biography?

My answer: I could not wait for the opportunity to write my life into a format worthy of literature, though I am sure it is. I had to get on with it.

I do believe, however, that this choice of internet media is markedly different than the aforementioned medium. Because there are no criteria for sorting quality, pretty much anybody's masturbation could end up in your face. Sorry 'bout that, but it's true.

The result is that the bar is raised. Though it is a strike even against my own words, I can generally classify the 'genre' of a blog within the first several sentences. It is very rare that I find a Blog which presents itself uniquely.

And, this medium, as a result of itself, demands: What actually constitutes worthy material? Is it enough just to have a savvy writing style, or a sharp wit? To have a voice, do I actually need to be doing something amazing in my 'real' life? Are all of those diary-writers out there excused from criticism?

Furthermore, as the internet is vastly dynamic and changing on a second-to-second basis, almost as a form of intelligence, this judgement of worthy material is actually rendered much, much more acutely than would/could even the most critical publisher/editor in the business. It is a judgement waged by millions of detached readers, who have no need other than their own gratification to keep reading!

Because Blogging has become a world-wide phenomenon, unfortunately, even the auto-biography writers out there are affected by the increased sensitivity of the audience. Though Fred's book may be amazing, if he has not tested his mettle in the arena of the Blog, well, contemporarily speaking, he may be waxing loquacious about yesterday's news. He may be doggedly contained by his own limits.

Now, naturally, a writer can choose to be conscious of this. They can pose the question to their Soul and begin the journey of Self Knowledge. Or, ha, they can keep writing their ka-jizz, arguing (as many have with whom I have discussed this topic), "Ohhh, they may not be saying anything, but they are reading!" As if there really are millions of voyeurs out there who have no better thoughts of their own and feel compelled to fill their heads with the ramblings of others'. Puh-lease. Get over yourselves, people, is what I say. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think life does not fail to be, if nothing else, BUSY and FULL of thoughts for pretty much all of us. I barely have time to take a dump, let alone catch a regular show on the boob-tube, or surf for an hour in hopes of reading something inspirational.

None-the-less, the truth is, there ARE true Thinkers, Philosophers, and Creatives out here among us who have been living a certain way for many, many years. Lifetimes, eons, in fact. These people truly are in touch with the Eternal, and they really do have a message that is infinitely positive.

To return to the question: I say, if I felt I had any avenues available to me to make such an energy known through the venues of the published auto-biography, I would utilitize it. However. I do not, and it does not hinder me. My message is not affected, my message is the same. For the time being, as blogging is my only means, I simply must jump in the pool with all of the other Jacking-off Jills and show, as poetically as I fancy, that I am just simply a Man.

And, ultimately, I can chant along side the rest, "Ohhh, I just know you are reading me!"

What is Guitar for me?

2006-03-16T23:16:00.000-08:00

Guitar is silence.

Guitar is when I face what I cannot be. And, when I accept what I am not, I hear your blessed music!

And yes, Guitar to play you is to face my insecurities, to be pummeled by them, to be ridiculed, scorned, shunned, haunted, and diseased by doubt and self-worthlessness -- all that is me. Guitar, to play you spontaneously is to dance with you, and because you are so great, Guitar, you reveal how I fail, in every way, to be loved by all, as you are, as God is as a rock star.

Guitar is infinite possibility. Guitar cannot be mastered, except by its own accord. Guitar is a new lesson for every hurdle hurdled. Guitar is eager to try again and again. And Guitar begs for silence.

Guitar begs to hear the breeze sigh and birds sing instead.

Guitar is my gateway to this peace! Guitar is the pentameter against which life's chaos must attune itself accordingly. And...Mama, the more peacefully I play, the more extraordinary you have made my life! Guitar, I cannot comprehend!

Guitar, I recognize, is as the Love Divine, my mortal love defined!

Therefore! As of now!

I further allow myself to experience the Love Divine in the arms of a woman, though it is hard for me to imagine a lover who would allow me to be as close, as tender, and as consistent and kind and all-knowing as you have been to me.

But I imagine this woman!

A woman willing to be held and play with me as often as I can find a spare moment..? A woman who sounds better and better the more I practice holding her..? A woman gratified to be my woman, though she may not know herself to be any different than a Ms. Megan Paul or a Ms. Sarah Gibson, or may not, in fact, even be a name-brand model, or have the newest strings, or wear a finish without knicks, dings, and scratches..? A woman dischordant only when I have failed to attend her tuning. A woman whose voice, as inspired by me to sing, enchants me and entrances me every time...! Ahh!

Guitar...this is the type of Love we have created...thank you, thank you, thank you, Ooommmmmm!

Love! As wide as the sea, as endless as the night, as bright as the sun! Ommmmm!

Well, hell. I'm 30.

2006-03-07T23:14:00.000-08:00

1976 to 20
hundred years, plus the six -->
I'm 30 years old, and I'm about to roll
Down the road to something new.
I tell you, man, the troubles had me
but just as I understood,
that it was my choice and so I found my voice
to let you all know that I'm right here,
just kicking it up in heaven.

It's those summertime blues that getcha,
You know we gots ta stop!
We can't keep going on like this,
cuz, you know I'm gonna break your heart
Ah, but still you want my loving,
And still you give me a chance
It's too much to own, so I gotta let you know,
if you feel the same, we oughta quit this game,
but then again...we both like to dance.

We'll get the summertime blues, baby,
In my way, you never give me half a chance
To even tell you how happy I am
just to be another man.
Or that it is scenic picture
Or all the other words I want to say:
It's like, my arm gets tired of just beating it off,
so, I got to relax and face the facts:
I think you want me just as much.

So you know a little background about me:
I do want to be healthy
I wanna be super-everlasting
and I never want to be cheesy
I'm trying to get some air &
I'm trying to eat some greens.
I try to live like ya teach me
but it ain't easy when you know I only came
for those naughty in-betweens

After all, what else do we got?
But for you, Lord, ain't nothing worth its salt...
inside, outside, through it, up & down
I feel you all in my heart
Ah, but one rises above the rest
to say she is a woman!
And I see a woman, and Lord, I see a woman
more than one makes women and I swear to you
that's where the problems start.

Hey, it's just an elaborate illusion --
It's the summertime blues, baby,
You know that's all I got,
but it ain't where I want to stop.
I give you it all,
except my pockets are flat!
It's been that way since yesterday
If I saw you now, I'd still have nothing to say. . .you know
I love you in my own way.

The summer time blues baby
A tune that you can sing
Whether I am with you
or whether you are free.
It really makes no difference
Except it can make you cry
But I'll show you love and what's up above
If the time is tonight, then let's make it right,
I say, the summer time blues are fine.

Who was King Nitram?

2006-02-28T23:12:00.000-08:00

Remember I made a big to-do about "The Death of King Nitram?" http://www.kingnitram.com/ That was the end of last summer. 2005.

He has been dead for six months.

And now, in light of seperation, new careers, and a phenomenal unknown which keeps it all together -- I wonder, who was King Nitram?

What if I told you he represented my worst fear for myself? What if I told you he was created as a strategy to encapsulate, confront, and act out my deepest karma? And what if I truly accepted the 100% responsibility for such a trip?

Lord!

Or, would you be one of the ones more inclined to believe he represents what is timeless, more ever-lasting than any thing: man, woman, or child?

Either way, I find myself miraculously swayed -- I think, as we all do -- through a veil of sweet illusion that is as real as lace on smooth skin. Purple twilight is a divine color. And Love is real, love is real, love is real!

I horde good ideas.

2006-02-27T20:58:00.000-08:00

And I am realizing this can be a very selfish behaivior. After all, a truly good (and original) idea really ought to be realized. It should happen.

To think that I will ever execute ALL of my good ideas by myself is ridiculous beyond laughable -- hell, yah'll, I'd be lucky to get even one of them totally done.

So, I'm relaxing. Besides, you just never know: One of the necessary steps in accomplishing a dream, often times, includes letting it go. . .so, it really could be one of those things at any time.

Anyway, here is one that I'd like to see happening (if it isn't already):

You know, wireless internet, laptops, and coffee shops were, like, freaking meant to be together. It is like True Love, man. How could laptops and coffeeshops never NOT have been together?? It was destiny, dude!

So, Blogs are becoming quite the rage, afterall -- and you know already how I think Blogs are generally written not as art/entertainment but as personal online diaries with a common understanding that little or almost no consideration is necessary to be paid to the audience. That's fine. I take shits too. It's just, when I put my shit up for display, well, I figure it only makes sense to have a pretty good spiel worked out as to why I would do something so outrageous.

Well, for those of us who care enough to make ourselves deeply understood (as can the power of the medium achieve), I think a live venue would be cool.

The format, I imagine, would go like this: ONE RULE! Only your newest post! Get a cordless mic, and pass it around. Anybody who would want to read their newest post could do so. Maximum time limit enforced. If a particular Blogger's reading is popular, they are allowed to read an additional article.

And that can go on as long as any one individual can hold an audience captive.

Fuck it. How hard would it be to put this good idea into action? I'm gonna do it. Ack. But it's raining right now. Don't wanna go out in the rain. Hey, man, LA streets are dangerous when slippery! I'll hit up Insomnia and Psychobabble soon, I promise.

ok, peace

Denial is bad.

2006-02-26T19:17:00.000-08:00

And you know it.

When I am famous.

2006-02-26T18:35:00.000-08:00

You may find yourself taking the time to document my epic life. In an effort to assist you putting the metaphors and great literary elements together, consider this:

My San Lazaro candle has nearly burned to completion.

And so I remember my prayer to Saint Lazarus, so many years ago:

When I met you in Heaven, you laughed like a child -- your body was healed and you were dancing. I said to you, "Lazarus! You are singing! It is as if you are celebrating your life of ailment and pain!"

You said unto me, "My love, it is nothing. We are blessed."

And when I understood this I begged of him, "Let be as you are connected to God! Lazarus, my teacher!"

Lovely Lady, Enchanted Desire --

2006-02-26T09:34:00.000-08:00

What I see in you naturally, I find so hard to see in myself.

It takes a whole lotta good medicine for me to pretend that I'm somebody else.

That cold conservative religion.

2006-02-24T20:59:00.000-08:00

Ever wonder why it's been kicking so hard lately?

Yah, you know, that old Christianity -- she's really been putting an old conservative fit up lately. Damn near drive ya crazy.

Well, it's a little like this: When something is dying, it burps and struggles pretty hard right up until it gives in.

Now, ya'll don't think something like Religion ever gonna go away, do ya? I never said nuthin' about no good ol' Religion. That's been the same ever since yo' momma too was born in this world. I'm talking 'bout them Romans who killed Jesus Christ Almighty -- I'm telling ya polite, friend, they got to be forgiven too! And once they been, well, they can git' on.

And that'll be good for everybody, people. Them ol' 60s weren't about nuthin, you know.

Stop Ignoring the Girls!! Do drugs and philosophize!

2006-02-24T20:33:00.000-08:00

Some of the best worst advice possible. Ahh, "Stop ignoring the girls, do drugs, and philosophize." It is wonderful.

Unfortunately however, it is true: "Drugs and Philosophy go together like oil and water -- as in, they don't mix. Oh sure, shake it up, do a jig, add a little spice and you've got food for anybody to eat, but none-the-less -- the ingridients are absolutely unique.

As for girls. . .Well, ignoring them is definitely out-of-the-question.

They say the sexes don't understand one another. That is not true. The difference and division between the sexes is what doesn't understand one another!, because man and woman absolutely do understand each other.

In essense: Woman is the energy closest to God, but not God. Man energy is God, but he cannot be, for as a man he is mortal. He chooses mortality because he is in Love with Woman. His love, miraculously representative of the divine in him, makes Woman feel as though she is Loved, yes, by God.

These are the simple mechanics of Great Love.

How do you see it? How can you not see it.

Love.

Dismantle the Empire from within

2006-02-24T00:25:00.000-08:00

The men who are in power are not in power because they have a bigger gun. Or a faster draw. Or computer-guided targeting missile systems, tanks, super-sonic war-planes, and chicks with big white boobies.

No.

They are the 'Man' because most of the people in the world allow these mens' thoughts to dictate their reality. Education, media, tradition, etc. The material wealth is a result of their gluttony and wallowing in this natural power, and the guns are an attempt to protect themselves against what they know must someday happen.

To oppose their worldly power in any forum other than your own mind is 99% of the time pointless, individually or collectively -- you see, there is no advantage in such a hopeless position of conflict. The revolutionary is crushed in body, mind, and spirit before anything is accomplished. And what remains?

The real power, the true power lies in KNOWING that all things must rise after they have fallen.

It is not this money machine which must fall, or these 'men' with big guns. It is the correct Spirit that will again rise and fill the consciousness of the people.

Has everyone forgotten? Only two hundred years ago, a great nation of fierce, proud, and reverent people still travelled this America freely, as they had for thousands of years -- literally -- before that. My people were strong with nature, and understood better than the western man that eternal life is a cycle of great death and rebirth -- every winter and spring.

How hard it was to accept that all of those lives were but leaves, and that the entire heritage could lie dormant in something so small as a seed! But it is true! Those traditions, seemingly wiped out of existence, lie quivering in the breeze and bristling in the sunlight. They are not destroyed; they have been transmuted into POWER.

A great genocide -- a drought, a forest fire -- happened right here at home long before the consequences of what we are doing over in the Middle East, or even what we have done in Japan and south east Asia, will ever affect our individual lives.

It is not about punishment. Can the fire be blamed? Power is to side with the inevitability of new trees growing, for hundreds of years if necessary, until they stand taller, wiser, and older than what was lost. Power is to realize that no amount of brain-washing can extinguish this spirit of rebirth & freedom. Power is to concentrate on this energy. Power is to allow your life's work to become this energy because it satisfies your soul and makes your elders proud.

Power does not overtly disrupt the functioning of this great civilization. The sapplings are still vulnerable, so why create a new fire? Power does not foolishly squander its talent or strategy without gain. Power does not need to display itself violently or aggressively because true power is greater than all those things. True power grows. . .

To know this brand of power is to also know that those men who appear to have all the power (only by controling the material wealth of the world) are sick with it -- a prison from which they cannot escape. They are bored and are insatiably looking for any type of thrill. The motion and limitless experience of divine right was lost with them generations ago. They are inbred now, and impotent. They cannot hear their thoughts like a babbling brook, or hear their Lover at all times whispering sweet nothing to them. They are miserable. And when this desire to be free of it is ripe, power will grant their wish -- not destroy them or fight them -- the curtain will simply be closed, the wonderful play is now over. They will go home. And they will finally begin to see what life was worth living for.

Then everything, everything, everything in existence will mature: Spring will give way to business of Summer. Those who have been preparing for many years will be in the most advantageous position to capitalize in this period, for their roots will be established and poised to produce a bounty of fruit. Indeed, the leaders of the new world are already knowing it into existence.

Mr. Jesus, please, We Need a New Story!

2006-02-23T05:38:00.000-08:00

Mr. Jesus, after you were crucified, I heard that you came back, alive.

In a way, and pardon my sacriledge, I always kinda took that to mean the cross was now sort of ours to bear. Both, because we killed you--You! It really was..., and because any man who understands what you were saying knows he will suffer in this mortal world as you suffered.

But Mr. Jesus -- please let me be humble. Let me confess that I know not the mind of God. Let me show nothing but Love of Him when I ask, "Is that our Father's most important lesson?"

"That His Son, Jesus the Christ, must be murdered by his own people? And be reborn only to watch in silence as the hippocrits adopt his language and make a New World Religion out of it?"

I apologize for such heavy laments tonight. There is no place for them in the bounty of this blessed Earth.

May I suggest that the solution lies with us, the People? And may I go so far as to propose its conceptual base? I regret my arrogance eternally.

If your story of Crucifiction and Ressurection were only half the story -- I think perhaps people could accept it really is like that if they also were shown by you that it is also like Gautama Siddartha showed us: An outwardly peaceful inner Struggle for Attainment.

Lord, forgive me for presuming to know the plan, or seeking to affect it outside of my mortal responsibilities. I just don't think people are really getting it in numbers large enough to calm the beast.

Peace and Love is all I desire.

Getting away from death now.

2006-02-23T05:02:00.000-08:00

Ok, I've been really making headlines with this metaphorical death talk for a couple of weeks now. And though it is tempting to go with what is popular, the subject is -- pardon me -- sort of for the dead. I personally feel alive!

When I first came to Los Angeles to learn the ways of the "Big Time", I had come straight of out of some forest fantasy of rural Montana. I had watched almost no TV growing up, and instead of getting mixed up with trouble and girls in High School, I found a friend and set an athletic goal for ourselves, which we achieved. I was in another world, and I did not get the same education.

But upon graduation, I knew I was lacking and so I definitely wanted to "get it". So, off to the city.

How can I say this and fully communicate just how BIG the "Big Time" happened on my naive ass? I got tooled? Naw, ass was involved, but I think I licked it -- I made it straight into a lucrative career, made lots of friends, got credits on classic movies like South Park and Kung Pow. I loved a woman, and she stuck it out with me through the whole deal. It was incredible, man!

Even so, almost 30 now, and for all intents and purposes, having made a complete loop of the monopoly board, I find myself standing again right in the beginning. Right at "Go".

So I have been reflecting intensely on my journey and, I guess you would say, making some preparations based on prior experience for what I anticipate is coming up soon.

This naturally is not all mental. It is running in tandem with my daily experience.

So my current realization is that, when I was younger, I really really was too over-whelmed with the "new-ness" of the city and my innocent love people to recognize my own light.

Yes.

And so, not realizing my own worth, I gave it away freely, even to my own demise. If you ask anybody who knew me, they would admit some variation of that truth.

I don't think that was a bad way to be. Actually, I even believe it is/was sort of inspirational -- afterall, I am still here, no worse for the wear, and what have I lost? And what really did they gain off of me?

. . .

Only my light, but the more I pay attention and value my inner light, the more that I realize nothing, not even the respect of a loved one, is more valuable than the single star which guides the wiseman. It is all that I am!

Still, I want to give it freely, but this is my point: These years have left me feeling that it is not worth giving to someone who will not honor and respect it. Curiously, I have found that those who know how to pay heed to the value of another have first, also, discovered the value of themselves. And so exchanges with such people are really quite amazing, as each person has so much to freely give the other.

It has to be abstract -- it is Thoughts.

2006-02-21T03:27:00.000-08:00

In line with what I have been saying, then,

The Death that can be practiced,
Is death of the MIND --
The Body's passing happens in an interval that could allow many, many years to be spent in mental delusion before clarity is achieved. It is best to practice more frequently. When appropriate, allow to happen experiences which seem to be a death of the 'self'.

You will learn about your Body Truth, which will awaken your Spirit Truth truth.

And then, the true Life-Span of our Selves (which is eternal) is perceived naturally.

The New Life-Span

2006-02-20T10:29:00.000-08:00

The modern age has not brought us physical immortality, but it certainly has increased our longevity. It is probable most of us will live well into our 70s and 80s. Or even older.

Along with this successful battle against early expiration has come a cultural consciousness which deplores death and glorifies the sustainance of the individual self above all else.

Such an attitude creates quite a conflict when the natural ebbs and flows of life require a person to let go of what was and become what is -- undergo one of the "little deaths", as I have many times called it. A person may be straight unwilling to do it, continue clinging to the past, and eventually suffer a much more dramatic loss, as life simply must go on.

Unfortunately, almost no one talks about death. The subject is taboo -- you are somewhat morbid if you go there. And afterall, who is anybody to talk about it? To really know anything about it, you would have to have been dead! So, there may be no experts. . .

None-the-less, people are dying right and left, here and there, and everywhere. Death is front-page news. In many smaller ways, children growing up and going away to college, divorces, career-changes, and an infinite list of more sublime life changes are causing people to confront the experience of death.

Still, there is no language for it! And the irony, in this modern era, is that -- due to increased lifespan -- each of us will persevere many more "death" experiences than ever before!

Still nobody is talking about it.

It is my humble belief that this dialogue must come to the surface so that people can truly begin to benefit from this miracle of medicine and technology. And then, when the natural end comes to a period of your life, go with it. Allow yourself to be reborn into the next phase of your growth. Begin to understand death as a natural process of Eternal Life.

Addictive Suicide

2006-02-13T21:37:00.000-08:00

There are many ways to kill yourself.

I've talked extensively about this subject, but still some may be unaware: I think dying is the best. I suggest everyone become quite adept at dying. Practice dying! You know, when the actual day comes, you may want to be as prepared as possible for it -- remember, the gnashing-of-teeth bit?

The gunshot to the head is bad practice. You are a rank beginner if you blow the whole deal in one second. Welcome to Hell, boy. However, I've mentioned repeatedly of the smoking thing -- you don't actually think every smoker in the world isn't fully aware of the killing quality of inhaling fire? No, in fact that is the numero uno reason it is done:

To die.

Lighten up, hippie. Look around you: Everybody, a-hem, everybody is killing themselves one way or another. It's like the sun is setting, yo.

So you have many options. MOST LIKELY, you are already rather compulsively attached to a particular type of mini-death. Who doesn't like to go to sleep?

Anyway, there are ka-bunches of ways to do it. Many lifestyles, not-with-standing, terrifically exciting lifestyles, are fast-tracks to death. Any material possession is bound to kill you eventually, because life will be damned to let you keep anything for ever. There are more invasive habits, of course, the most gnarly of which to engage is the habit of militant self-thought control. Men are particularly attached to the noose. You know, choke the hell out of that chicken. Spank that monkey, yes, I said, "Spank him to death."

Sex is really the best. You head straight for the light, kamikaze-style, and you just burn up like a fire in the sky. I think it must be quite funny for women around the world to see their raging bull-Man collapse in their sloppy thighs, a panting, quivering fart. How pathetic! That's Love man!

Now, my point in mentioning all of this is simple: Actually, dying is really dying, it is inevitable, but there is no need not to LIVE THE WAY YOU WANNA LIVE BEFORE YOU DIE.

That is a struggle for each individual, with strategies somewhat open for debate. But I can say this: The more you value it, the more you will pay attention to its passing. And like they always say, "You don't know what you've got until you lose it."

Practice dying. Learn what Life is worth.

I said it 1000 times.

2006-02-12T19:29:00.000-08:00

Everybody knows what it is to be human. Everybody gets it. Everybody can TELL you all about it. The mathmatics of life.

The first line of the Tao, however, is: "The Tao that can be expressed is not the Eternal Tao."

That which is BEYOND the veil of illusion is unspeakable. That is because language (and all constructs of human existence) are part of the veil! It is very simple logic. No matter how much information or evidence is accumulated, none of it can equal or be greater than that which is greatest. Simple!

And yet, since *EVERYTHING* is a sub-set of this "Greatest Thing", then it is also true that every little detail and nuance, no matter how insignificant, is also the Greatest Thing! This is great news!

People will spend most of their lives arguing their way around the ramifications of this very simple reasoning, but it is a waste of time -- there is no way around the truth. And in fact, the depth of "truth" is so wild and profound and deep and mysterious that you might as well just 'fess up to it and get on with discovering it. Unless you start digging, there is no possible way you will get to the bottom of it.

And really the Greatest Thing is the greatest because it really is the greatest. So stop it. Surrender. Get on with it.

Read Me Now:

2006-02-12T02:30:00.000-08:00

You my Heart of Emptiness.
Keep Love Ing Me. . .
fill me up with all your Nothing.
Jus keep loving me.

Forever GOD's Son,
Jesus Christ Almighty--
I try, I know, to put myself on your cross, just a fool. . .
jus a fool to be like you, and I beg to you humbly,
Lord!
Keep loving me!

Baby Girl, Woman Inside,I see you lookin' like today
you was feelin' mighty fine, and I gotta say. . .
I know exactly what that is! I know what makes you shine!
Don't tell me you don't know exactly what I'm talking about,
Man sees it, and it's written by the blood flowing outcha:
You'e dying for me to be like I am--Lord, I know!
You are Woman! Keep loving me!
Keep Love Ing me!

Keep loving me,
jus keep loving me
(You known you was mine all the time, but who am I? who am I?)
Keep lovin me
keep lovin me
keep lovin me
(I forget where I came from!)
keep lovin
keep lovin
(I forget where I came from!)
Lord, I forget
( I forget!!! )
Jus keep loving me!

Lost a whole lotta water, flowing underneath that bridge,
Each and every day, for'd nearly a century or more I'd say--
and only God hears her song she sings it up there up n at em as the sun shines at her
each and every day by day by day!

They say it gotta end, right, everything gotta end, ha!
But I can't see no reason why!
Except for our ugly faces, seems She could make it all perfect, right?
for a Mighty Long Time.
As they say, bitches, and well boys,
so shall they seem to be be -- I'll tell ya something right now,
my lady is timeless.
That's Eternity.
And alls I gotta do is find her! And everything is a'ight for me.

Not much left to say, something says we gotta end it. And we do.
keep loving, man, whooooo! eee!
people gotta keep loving WE, man! Loving We! Man KIND!
Can't you see, can't you see?
keep loving me.
keep loving me.

Why Is One Ant Not Like the Other Ants?

2006-02-02T14:31:00.000-08:00

I sit on the toilet. Next to me, on the window sill, marching down the wall to the bathtub, towards the faucet, I watch ants relentlessly invading my bathroom. They march, exchanging quick greetings with ants marching the opposite direction.

They move forward with maddening purpose. They are unstoppable. Where I have devastated a thousand of them with a burst of 409, a hundred thousand replace them. There is no tragedy that can phase them. Ants will find a way, against all odds. Starvation is practically all you can do to them, and even still they are not beaten, they just go someplace else, probably ten times further the distance.

Mindless fucks. I hate them.

Do they not know doubt? What is this slavish purpose to which the entire species is devouted? Is there some outrageous orgy of writhing sexual bliss going on back at the Hive? Is the Queen THAT good?? Or do they just work so hard only to survive?

God, how I hate them for their single-mindedness.

But wait.

What is that ant doing? The one on the window sill. I watch him. He walks, meandering, apart from the rest of his compatriots. Perhaps he is a scout. No. He just stopped and is standing there doing nothing. Consulting the spirits, perhaps.

Bwah-ha, if that is the case, then I'm his god because his paltry life is utterly in my hands: I psychically tell him that he is doomed. He is nothing more than a pitiful ant. Bwah-ha-ha.

He staggers a few steps this way, a few steps that way. But he gets nowhere.

Oh-ho! A friend has strayed from the pack! She has come out to talk to him!

They tangle antanaes for a few minutes. He turns away. She pursues him. He runs and stops. She stands there for a minute, turns around and heads back for the procession.

How touching. I am touched -- this ant is really high on something.

But now he is utterly alone. He is unwilling to get in line with the rest of his people. So be it.

I am growing to like this little ant. How crazy must the rest of his community think him to be? He probably waxes on about "the Divine Tapestry" and such. He is probably accused of being an egotist and worse. A freak. Abnormal. Cursed.

He probably says to his lover, "I saw Man again today." And she screams and cries, "Why must you mention The Beast's name?? It's as if you are diseased or obsessed!"

He will die inside, being so misunderstood, but none-the-less, he will continue his thought: "It occurs to me that perhaps Man is just like us, only bigger. What if there is an entire civilization of Mans, with complex social procedures, just like us? Perhaps as things get bigger or smaller, perhaps the pattern remains the same!! And if that is so, then maybe this is--"

Surely she interrupts him and exclaims, "Why do you ALWAYS TALK CRAZY TALK??!"

Haha, yah. I bet this ant has gone through something like that. Why else would he be acting so nutty?

Jesus. He must be depressed. Now I feel bad for him. He isn't doing anything. Just sitting there apart from the rest. God, I'm feeling bad for him.

Maybe he is just old. Ah-ha, I bet that is it. I wonder how old ants get. I wonder if you can tell by looking.

I lean over, my own purpose on the toilet forgotten. I get close, and closer, trying to inspect him. Hmmm. He looks in fine shape. All six legs. He looks symetrical. He looks as strong as any other ant. Hard to say if he--

WHAT THE FUCK!?!!

OH MY GOD!!! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!!!!

JESUS H. CHRIST.

My ant has just jumped OFF the window sill! Oh my God! I swear to you he was right on the edge a minute ago and now, boom, he jumped.

I watched him do it. I even told him he was doomed. Man, if I am God, then I suck at it.

(This is a true story, fools.)

Rebirth.

2006-01-31T19:19:00.000-08:00

The evening after I had proposed to Leticia in Montana, and she had flown back to Los Angeles, I went for a walk down to the Bitterroot River with my blood mother. On our sunset journey, we discovered -- out in the middle of acres and acres of hay-fields -- two baby manx kittens.

Naturally my mother wants to save them, but I, being the cold-hearted rationality of our group, insist that Dad will not be happy if she brings home, not one, but TWO additional pets for "the farm". I say that we must let nature take its course. So, we continue down to the river.

Of course we know we will pass them on our return journey, so really I'm just giving us time to think about it. But nothing gets said, and, as we pass them on the way home, we just keep walking.

But, lo and behold, Mother Nature heard her name called, for something inspires these two baby kittens to follow us! With clumsy leaps and bounds on a heavily graveled road, for an entire half-mile they follow us, unassisted, all the back to the car! At that point it was like: Who could deny such determination in such a supposedly inferior species?? So we take them in.

We are just laughing by the time we get home -- because of our powerlessness in the situation, because we have no guilt on our consciences at passing them by. Of course Mom is delighted and of course Dad hems and haws for only a few minutes.

That evening, I decide to hold an all-night vigil and watch the sun come up on my parents' property. I must think about my choice to marry. I must think about returning to the vortex of L.A. I must understand what is happening to me.

I have a most tremendous experience doing so, unable to be clearly communicated, and by the morning, I am in the state-of-mind that I am truly leaving a Garden of Eden for the Unknown. Lord knows, my relationship had been rocky all the way along, so who could predict the potential of our union?

I witness a sunrise that has never been seen before by the eyes of a man -- so beautiful, so timeless and still, so frighteningly perfect! And I think these resounding words, which I have not forgotten:

I am being born.

WHIZ-BANG, many things a-happened! Back in LA, working again for movies, getting married, travel, in-laws-this, in-laws-that, galleries, art, marriage, and on and on and on! Zip ahead through these years: Bam, I find myself working feverishly hard on a project that I hope will produce a new career path for me.

During this time, I repeatedly feel as though I am "re-living" my school days. This makes sense, since I learning so many new things, etc, etc. However, the sensations are so profound, that I recognize, in no uncertain terms, my tendency towards the differing strategies that I employed as a younger man. . .things that I have learned, over time, do not ultimately serve me! Therefore, I am wickedly (albeit politely) stubborn towards those who would have me make those same mistakes TWICE. I say, "I'm sorry, I must do it this way this time. Forgive me!"

Finally, hear my wife's reasonings for our seperation: "I want to be married to a man, not a child. You must face the realities of life. You must grow up."

As I spend this last night in the empty apartment that attempted to launch our marriage, I feel she is right. Her language is tacit, but she is right, because I AM growing up! I continue to have that experience! I continue to re-understand what must have happened to me as a babe, realizing that I must part from my mother. . .I'm telling you, this is all very deep!

Now, now is the time that I must be extra careful, because, now is the time -- that in my memories -- I was introduced to the pre-school/playground problems, the situations which got me BROKEN PHYSICALLY.

So I feel strongly that I must strengthen my body. I must become more agile. I must be able to manuever out of situations that would harm me. And should I be cornered again, ambushed for my light, I will fight. Boys I mean that. And I believe I will not lose this time. I will not be humiliated and forced to watch the other guys grow up strong and proud while I nurse old injuries; said differently: I do not need to spend another 25 years developing my mind and my artistic skills in lieu of a warrior's body, because I already have honed and polished those skills to an obsessive level.

I am ready now for what is next. Lord, hear my humble prayer: I seek to venerate You in this world. Help me over-come my mortal fear so that I may shine Your light for Your world to see.

This Los Angeles Lifetime

2006-01-29T00:38:00.000-08:00

I was 19. I wanted to be a comic-book artist -- I wanted to fall in love the way I didn't in high school.

Got here, met a woman who, by age alone, knew a few things more than me. I gave her my keys. This is not the behavior of a man; this is the behavior of a fool.

Ten years later I proclaim: I have given my keys again!! On August 6th 2004, I married Leticia Carmelle Lacy (which now that I really think about it, fits an irish boy like me in this way: Leticia Connell Lacy. Hmm, we never thought of that...:|

I guess our timing was always kinda like that...but I know this much: I love that woman. I gave her my keys, for sure. And as she sends me packing, I tell you I would do it again, if only on the hope that my misbehaving-ass would do something a little better on the rerun!

But if this is it -- like she is telling me, this is it -- then, after the appropriate considerations are paid to the threads of my life here and her family, I should like to find True Love in my Home of Montana with my family, not only in Christ.

Such is my selfishness and I am not unaware that such business could easily take another ten years' LA Time. Please guide and protect me. I have been a fool before..!