Shower Epiphany: A Cookie Plea
If you love me, feed me cookies.
If you do not, feed me cookies and let me leave.
If you're impartial, feed me cookies and shrug.
If you don't know me, feed me cookies and wave.
If you do know me, feed me cookies and nod.
If you have an itch, feed me cookies with one hand and scratch with the other.
If you're out of cookies, go get cookies.
If you love cookies, feed them to me and we will share.
If you hate cookies, feed them to me and watch me smite your enemy.
If you can't feed me cookies cause you're far away, come close and feed me cookies.
If you are way too far away and can't come over, send me cookies and a photo of you.
If you pass on, I'll mourn you with cookies you provide.
If you are born, tell your parents to have cookies as I wish you a happy birthday.
What I'm trying to say here is I need be fed cookies. You have no fucking excuse! So....yea....get to it.
Showing posts with label Symbols. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Symbols. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 27, 2016
Saturday, April 23, 2016
Do robots dream other then electric sheep?
I have trust issues.
I mean I have them. Seriously have them. How bad?
I dreamed last night I was in love with a robot. What kind? Think of the big clunky one you might have gotten as a toy and smoked if you added oil and maybe even sparked. It had no gender. It was a robot. It even had the most robotest voice imaginable.
But why?
It let me be the little spoon. It was programmed to know that I had a drop in temperature and it would bring me a blanket and even heat the room. It would play white noise while I slept and kept on guard to keep all the chaos from getting me. It gently woke me up and even went outside to get groceries, take out the trash and walk the dog with me. It even had an espresso machine and gave me books out of the blue.
Sex?
No.
Right? I mean it never came up nor I wanted it really. It was just there, taking care of me, tending to my needs and saving my world for once. We had intellectual conversation with citations, it helped me cook with recipes, and even launched missiles at anyone who looked at me funny.
Best of all......when I wanted to be alone, it let me. It went into sleep mode and woke when I called it. I mean....wow.
It didn't threaten me, cheat on me, pull a knife on me, tried to sexually take advantage of me or even call me out of my name. It was a robot and it actually cared. And I cared back. It was......blissful, even if it was in no way sexual. Oddly enough I almost felt it wasn't needed.
I know....weird.
How weird?
When I woke up this morning I missed my robot. I honestly felt bad about waking up before Sunday brunch without them and felt sad. I mean......sad that I was living in this reality and not one where I was taken care of by a robot. I always said I could love anyone despite of what they have or don't have physically. I just never realized that it went this far.
I missed my robot, especially when I realized that I needed to wake up and save the world and hope it didn't stab me in the back in return.
Yea......just yea........my dreams are something.
I mean I have them. Seriously have them. How bad?
I dreamed last night I was in love with a robot. What kind? Think of the big clunky one you might have gotten as a toy and smoked if you added oil and maybe even sparked. It had no gender. It was a robot. It even had the most robotest voice imaginable.
But why?
It let me be the little spoon. It was programmed to know that I had a drop in temperature and it would bring me a blanket and even heat the room. It would play white noise while I slept and kept on guard to keep all the chaos from getting me. It gently woke me up and even went outside to get groceries, take out the trash and walk the dog with me. It even had an espresso machine and gave me books out of the blue.
Sex?
No.
Right? I mean it never came up nor I wanted it really. It was just there, taking care of me, tending to my needs and saving my world for once. We had intellectual conversation with citations, it helped me cook with recipes, and even launched missiles at anyone who looked at me funny.
Best of all......when I wanted to be alone, it let me. It went into sleep mode and woke when I called it. I mean....wow.
It didn't threaten me, cheat on me, pull a knife on me, tried to sexually take advantage of me or even call me out of my name. It was a robot and it actually cared. And I cared back. It was......blissful, even if it was in no way sexual. Oddly enough I almost felt it wasn't needed.
I know....weird.
How weird?
When I woke up this morning I missed my robot. I honestly felt bad about waking up before Sunday brunch without them and felt sad. I mean......sad that I was living in this reality and not one where I was taken care of by a robot. I always said I could love anyone despite of what they have or don't have physically. I just never realized that it went this far.
I missed my robot, especially when I realized that I needed to wake up and save the world and hope it didn't stab me in the back in return.
Yea......just yea........my dreams are something.
Thursday, November 7, 2013
Shower Epiphany: Grow within rather than build without
Sometimes we are disappointed in people not because we found a way to see them as who they are and to accept them as is, but because they somehow represent something to us that often times they do not know of, we can not comprehend, nor can we begin to imagine how this it came to be. Once we realize what they mean to us and who they really are we can take those often times unjust and overwhelming expectations from their shoulders and begin to understand what we lack and how we can make ourselves whole rather than augment ourselves with others.
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Shower Epiphany: Tugging against the Remaining Shackle, Never understanding it does not exist
*My apologies with the skip of time and space. This post comes before Shower Epiphany: Finally Feeling the Remaining Shackle Give Way. So if you are a bit confused this entry lead to the before mentioned. Sowwies. I promise not to cause anymore confusion.....or at least try not to.*
Had to read a bit of Gladwell's Outliers before going to sleep again. I'm quite convinced that I'm very literarily lucky. I seem to stumble onto the right books when I need them the most. Momenta when I contemplate certain thoughts it actions that may have some certain or drastic change in my life I am usually rewarded with my intellectual gamble after several months of contemplation. This process has not only rewarded me for patience I never had, but my hidden ability to deeply ponder or "grok" the long potentials of chosen ideas or path. Only after long months of mental debate can I honestly see if I'm actually right.
I can see how this talent or what some consider a nuisance can be hindering to many and why some have seeker to hinder my train of thought as if I would end up disproving why I should or shouldn't do something ans knowing once I arrive at my answer it would only reinforce my stubborn nature in knowing that my "math" is correct. I can see why I've seen it as a curse or the reason why I can nor sleep, yet I understand now. I see why my reluctance to think deeply unnerved others who in truth were threatened.
I am difficult to reason, tempt, and threaten once I reach at a conclusion. My sense of right and hypocrisy is too strong. I can even seen why some individuals broke up with me. In the end the feared that I would reason them away instead adore and favor them more. I understand now. I understand why "Charlie horse" myself and choose to hide my thoughts or "drink the cough syrup ".
I'm a bit sad and disappointed now. I understand. I feel as if I owe apologies to others and yet I feel I've been treated like my attractive counterparts and found beautiful to the eye ans yet told to cover up by the insecure. Their issues have become my own and it have not only made me feel unattractive, but also undesirable and unwanted.
Damn.
I get it now. And I laughed at the concept of being so attractive that you repulse. I've been so bright that I somehow insult those closest to me. Heartbreaking.
I get it now but heartbreaking all the same. Now I get the whole "shhhhh" thing.
Relieved yet disappointed by others and how I am seen. Still "ugly" no matter what.
*Sigh*
Had to read a bit of Gladwell's Outliers before going to sleep again. I'm quite convinced that I'm very literarily lucky. I seem to stumble onto the right books when I need them the most. Momenta when I contemplate certain thoughts it actions that may have some certain or drastic change in my life I am usually rewarded with my intellectual gamble after several months of contemplation. This process has not only rewarded me for patience I never had, but my hidden ability to deeply ponder or "grok" the long potentials of chosen ideas or path. Only after long months of mental debate can I honestly see if I'm actually right.
I can see how this talent or what some consider a nuisance can be hindering to many and why some have seeker to hinder my train of thought as if I would end up disproving why I should or shouldn't do something ans knowing once I arrive at my answer it would only reinforce my stubborn nature in knowing that my "math" is correct. I can see why I've seen it as a curse or the reason why I can nor sleep, yet I understand now. I see why my reluctance to think deeply unnerved others who in truth were threatened.
I am difficult to reason, tempt, and threaten once I reach at a conclusion. My sense of right and hypocrisy is too strong. I can even seen why some individuals broke up with me. In the end the feared that I would reason them away instead adore and favor them more. I understand now. I understand why "Charlie horse" myself and choose to hide my thoughts or "drink the cough syrup ".
I'm a bit sad and disappointed now. I understand. I feel as if I owe apologies to others and yet I feel I've been treated like my attractive counterparts and found beautiful to the eye ans yet told to cover up by the insecure. Their issues have become my own and it have not only made me feel unattractive, but also undesirable and unwanted.
Damn.
I get it now. And I laughed at the concept of being so attractive that you repulse. I've been so bright that I somehow insult those closest to me. Heartbreaking.
I get it now but heartbreaking all the same. Now I get the whole "shhhhh" thing.
Relieved yet disappointed by others and how I am seen. Still "ugly" no matter what.
*Sigh*
Thursday, October 31, 2013
Love's Naloxone Or Taking the Anti-love pill. Part Twenty- Lyrical bounce while talking to myself
We sat at the white table together as he smiled towards me. It was a relaxed and lazy smile that I have not seen since my days of youth and foolishness. A time when the weight of the world didn't rest upon my shoulders and I didn't know that life would be a hard task ahead.
This was a dream. It's rare when I can figure it out before waking, but I knew ahead of time that this was a dream. We never seem to question the fantastic or the outlandish unless we are within your dreams. It's a realm that everything can be accepted and allow us to confront and deal with issues that may seem hidden or even misunderstood. As far as I can tell my dreams have always been a means for hard thoughts to come forward and catch my attention.
I knew it was a dream since I was at a table across from myself within a room where the color of the walls elude me. It was a normal thing it seemed, since if there is any moment where you would find yourself with your doppelganger. I would not say that he was my exact double since he wore his long hair down in a fashion I called my scalawag pirate look. He was relaxed and mellow with a few days of not shaving with an air of "not giving a fuck" as if it was perfumed on him. I could not really see details that would say that he was me, but the emotion seem to convince me more than a logical mind. It's like trying to read or do math while dreaming. It's not only impossible, but it's a fast way of waking you up. Especially useful if you are having a nightmare and you want to be awake quickly.
But who am I to question sitting across from myself?
What does on do when faced with one's self? How is one to react if you are sitting with yourself? What would pass by your mind? It's a question that we don't usually ask unless you are me. I've spent most of my time listening to others. Studying their issues, actions, and behaviors. At first I did it to learn to imitate others, which I've been told I do a great job. If I know you long enough I can imitate you in your mannerisms, speech, and usual topics that make you you. It is only circumstantial that I learned to listen to people and all of sudden seem to see what they could not. I've been told that I could have bee a psychologist or a psychoanalyst, but the though had always sickened me. Being someone that is approachable and easy to talk to, words of others and not my own, I've have heard every horror story, fear, heartbreak and paranoia imaginable from my girl dumped me and I am alone to I have been physically and mentally raped by satanic forces since I was the age of 5.
Yea, heavy shit.
And yet, I've always been told that I was wise and brilliant and I am great at helping people at their issues that I must have my life in order. And yet, it's the riddle of the barber in which who cuts their hair? It's a bit of a insult in a way to be told that I can reach into the hearts of others and help them find peace when it's the one thing I desire the most. The ability to put down things that I have shared here and others that I still have to reveal. Things that keep me up at night, that keeps me wondering what could have, should have, may have had happened if I could do this or that or what other thing. That I could have prevented certain things just as some people are willing to pile on the maddening idea that they could have prevented 9-11 or save Kennedy or Lincoln if given the chance to. Those maddening thoughts that drive me to doubt, not in hopes of making me a better person, but more riddled with guilt and sadness that I have placed more blame on my plate than should be there.
And trust me, I'm one more than willing to lad my own lynching.
And yet, here at this moment of time was the one person who I could trust on everything. The one person who knew what I knew, knew what I think and what pitfalls in my own logic that would cause me to charlie horse my progress or what other windmill that I would see fit to challenge. Across from me was the one person I could honestly confide and trust. Here was the one person who could tell me what I should and should not do without any thought of malice or manipulation on anyone's behalf I did not know and I still don't, but I sat across from Me and I trusted him more than anyone or anything else.
And he was smiling.
Me: So.....what are we doing here?
Doppelganger: Please allow me to introduce myself....I'm a man of wealth and taste.
He spoke in a lyric? Really? And yet, I understood what he said.
Me: So.....are you supposed to be me?
Doppelganger: I am he as you are he as you are me...and we are all together.
So this was the gimmick? Ok, sure.
Me: Ok, so....can we talk? Are we supposed to? I mean, am I supposed to say what I want to say and you will tell me otherwise?
Doppelganger: I'm looking for me. You're looking for you. We're looking at each other and we don't know what to do.
Me: Um...ok....so I guess I wanted to ask you a few things since I'm trying to figure out what I should deal with. I wanted to go clean and pull all the shit out but I don't know how far or what I should keep doing. I really don't know sometimes because it feels like I'm always pulling shitty moments out of my life and trying to figure things out. It kind of works, but I just feel that sometimes I'm just going through it for nothing. I mean, where do I stop and what do I do when I get there?
Doppelganger: I see you've got your list out, say your piece and get out. Guess I get the gist of it 'cause it's alright Oh, well, anyway, sorry that you feel that way. The only thing there is to say Every silver lining's got a touch of grey
Me: Anyone ever tell you that we're an ass?
Doppelganger: You weren't the first...and you won't be the last....
Me: Ha.....ok...I can agree with that.
*we laughed for a while*
Me: Ok, can I float some thoughts to you then?
Doppelganger: Your own personal.....Jesus...
Me: Ok....I just wanted to know if I still have to do this or can I just get over it all.
Doppelganger: I try to discover a little something to make me sweeter....
Me: Yea, I've been trying to clear my head these months and it feels like I've hit a few things, and I've really aired out alot, but I still feel that there is more to it. There is so much more and I just can't pull it all out. It's as if I'm only scrapping the edge and there will always be somuch to deal with and I'm never going to be empty.
Doppelganger: And so I cry sometimes when I'm lying in bed Just to get it all out, what's in my head And I, I am feeling a little peculiar....
Me: Exactly! I always feel that no matter how much I get through that I have more. And somehow if I can't get through it all I'm still stuck and I'm never going to get to the end.
Doppelganger: I've been uptight and made a mess so I'll clean it up myself I guess.
Me: Yea, and it feels like forever. I'm tired of this. When will I be done?
Doppelganger: I just wish I knew....
Me: Wait....what? What do you mean?
Doppelganger: You an I, we've been though that and that is not our fate. So let us not talk falsely now, for tomorrow is getting late.
Me: Yea.....I get that, but I just keep feeling that I'm always dealing with this shit.
Doppelganger: But I still haven't found what I'm looking for.
Me: Yea...exactly, but I'm confused here. What are you saying?
Doppelganger: When you were young and your heart was an open book, you used to say live and let live.....And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude...refrain. Don't carry the world up on your shoulders.....Speaking words of wisdom.....Let it be.
Me: So....so just let it go?
Me: So should I keep on? Should I stop? Am I ever going to make things better?
Doppelganger: As you know anything goes....it's the end of the beginning, yea...we all know that anything can happen. We been through it. My mind is not here today.
Me: Then where is it? Where is you mind?
*He points at me and it takes me a while to realize I had a Pixies moment. Man, I'm an ass*
Me: Yea, ok. I get that. So what. Just stop?
Doppelganger: Now don't tell me it's progress 'cause that's just a lie And don't even try to come with an excuse, why? We were so busy worrying about them dropping the bomb We didn't notice where our enemy was really coming from
Me: I'm.....I'm too occupied worrying about the past? I'm dealing with the past and I'm losing track......
Doppelganger: Speak up....I can't hear you!
Me: I'm too busy pulling shit up that I'm ignoring now? Is that it?
Doppelganger: Little less conversation, little more action please? All this aggravation is not satisfaction in me
Me: I'm too absorbed? I'm busy fixing that past that I'm losing track of what I can be doing?
Doppelganger: Try to just let it go, Know that justice moves slow, But it comes in the end...I'm happy when life's good and when it's bad I cry. I got values, but I don't know how or why...I keep my eye wide open all the time....There is only so much I can owe!
Me: I'm working on the past while losing my present so I have not future. I'm spending too much time on the drawing board instead of out in the field.
Doppelganger: I think I had a song to sing and it went......life goes on.....such barrel of fun.....life goes on....Nothing going to change my world....I told them all to go to hell, that would suit them very well....Never going to be enough money, never going to be enough drugs and I'm never going to get old.....You live, you learn
This was a dream. It's rare when I can figure it out before waking, but I knew ahead of time that this was a dream. We never seem to question the fantastic or the outlandish unless we are within your dreams. It's a realm that everything can be accepted and allow us to confront and deal with issues that may seem hidden or even misunderstood. As far as I can tell my dreams have always been a means for hard thoughts to come forward and catch my attention.
I knew it was a dream since I was at a table across from myself within a room where the color of the walls elude me. It was a normal thing it seemed, since if there is any moment where you would find yourself with your doppelganger. I would not say that he was my exact double since he wore his long hair down in a fashion I called my scalawag pirate look. He was relaxed and mellow with a few days of not shaving with an air of "not giving a fuck" as if it was perfumed on him. I could not really see details that would say that he was me, but the emotion seem to convince me more than a logical mind. It's like trying to read or do math while dreaming. It's not only impossible, but it's a fast way of waking you up. Especially useful if you are having a nightmare and you want to be awake quickly.
But who am I to question sitting across from myself?
What does on do when faced with one's self? How is one to react if you are sitting with yourself? What would pass by your mind? It's a question that we don't usually ask unless you are me. I've spent most of my time listening to others. Studying their issues, actions, and behaviors. At first I did it to learn to imitate others, which I've been told I do a great job. If I know you long enough I can imitate you in your mannerisms, speech, and usual topics that make you you. It is only circumstantial that I learned to listen to people and all of sudden seem to see what they could not. I've been told that I could have bee a psychologist or a psychoanalyst, but the though had always sickened me. Being someone that is approachable and easy to talk to, words of others and not my own, I've have heard every horror story, fear, heartbreak and paranoia imaginable from my girl dumped me and I am alone to I have been physically and mentally raped by satanic forces since I was the age of 5.
Yea, heavy shit.
And yet, I've always been told that I was wise and brilliant and I am great at helping people at their issues that I must have my life in order. And yet, it's the riddle of the barber in which who cuts their hair? It's a bit of a insult in a way to be told that I can reach into the hearts of others and help them find peace when it's the one thing I desire the most. The ability to put down things that I have shared here and others that I still have to reveal. Things that keep me up at night, that keeps me wondering what could have, should have, may have had happened if I could do this or that or what other thing. That I could have prevented certain things just as some people are willing to pile on the maddening idea that they could have prevented 9-11 or save Kennedy or Lincoln if given the chance to. Those maddening thoughts that drive me to doubt, not in hopes of making me a better person, but more riddled with guilt and sadness that I have placed more blame on my plate than should be there.
And trust me, I'm one more than willing to lad my own lynching.
And yet, here at this moment of time was the one person who I could trust on everything. The one person who knew what I knew, knew what I think and what pitfalls in my own logic that would cause me to charlie horse my progress or what other windmill that I would see fit to challenge. Across from me was the one person I could honestly confide and trust. Here was the one person who could tell me what I should and should not do without any thought of malice or manipulation on anyone's behalf I did not know and I still don't, but I sat across from Me and I trusted him more than anyone or anything else.
And he was smiling.
Me: So.....what are we doing here?
Doppelganger: Please allow me to introduce myself....I'm a man of wealth and taste.
He spoke in a lyric? Really? And yet, I understood what he said.
Me: So.....are you supposed to be me?
Doppelganger: I am he as you are he as you are me...and we are all together.
So this was the gimmick? Ok, sure.
Me: Ok, so....can we talk? Are we supposed to? I mean, am I supposed to say what I want to say and you will tell me otherwise?
Doppelganger: I'm looking for me. You're looking for you. We're looking at each other and we don't know what to do.
Me: Um...ok....so I guess I wanted to ask you a few things since I'm trying to figure out what I should deal with. I wanted to go clean and pull all the shit out but I don't know how far or what I should keep doing. I really don't know sometimes because it feels like I'm always pulling shitty moments out of my life and trying to figure things out. It kind of works, but I just feel that sometimes I'm just going through it for nothing. I mean, where do I stop and what do I do when I get there?
Doppelganger: I see you've got your list out, say your piece and get out. Guess I get the gist of it 'cause it's alright Oh, well, anyway, sorry that you feel that way. The only thing there is to say Every silver lining's got a touch of grey
Me: Anyone ever tell you that we're an ass?
Doppelganger: You weren't the first...and you won't be the last....
Me: Ha.....ok...I can agree with that.
*we laughed for a while*
Me: Ok, can I float some thoughts to you then?
Doppelganger: Your own personal.....Jesus...
Me: Ok....I just wanted to know if I still have to do this or can I just get over it all.
Doppelganger: I try to discover a little something to make me sweeter....
Me: Yea, I've been trying to clear my head these months and it feels like I've hit a few things, and I've really aired out alot, but I still feel that there is more to it. There is so much more and I just can't pull it all out. It's as if I'm only scrapping the edge and there will always be somuch to deal with and I'm never going to be empty.
Doppelganger: And so I cry sometimes when I'm lying in bed Just to get it all out, what's in my head And I, I am feeling a little peculiar....
Me: Exactly! I always feel that no matter how much I get through that I have more. And somehow if I can't get through it all I'm still stuck and I'm never going to get to the end.
Doppelganger: I've been uptight and made a mess so I'll clean it up myself I guess.
Me: Yea, and it feels like forever. I'm tired of this. When will I be done?
Doppelganger: I just wish I knew....
Me: Wait....what? What do you mean?
Doppelganger: You an I, we've been though that and that is not our fate. So let us not talk falsely now, for tomorrow is getting late.
Me: Yea.....I get that, but I just keep feeling that I'm always dealing with this shit.
Doppelganger: But I still haven't found what I'm looking for.
Me: Yea...exactly, but I'm confused here. What are you saying?
Doppelganger: When you were young and your heart was an open book, you used to say live and let live.....And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude...refrain. Don't carry the world up on your shoulders.....Speaking words of wisdom.....Let it be.
Me: So....so just let it go?
*I give myself that look of "well duh" that I've given to so many. Wow, I am an ass.*
Me: So should I keep on? Should I stop? Am I ever going to make things better?
Doppelganger: As you know anything goes....it's the end of the beginning, yea...we all know that anything can happen. We been through it. My mind is not here today.
Me: Then where is it? Where is you mind?
*He points at me and it takes me a while to realize I had a Pixies moment. Man, I'm an ass*
Me: Yea, ok. I get that. So what. Just stop?
Doppelganger: Now don't tell me it's progress 'cause that's just a lie And don't even try to come with an excuse, why? We were so busy worrying about them dropping the bomb We didn't notice where our enemy was really coming from
Me: I'm.....I'm too occupied worrying about the past? I'm dealing with the past and I'm losing track......
Doppelganger: Speak up....I can't hear you!
Me: I'm too busy pulling shit up that I'm ignoring now? Is that it?
Doppelganger: Little less conversation, little more action please? All this aggravation is not satisfaction in me
Me: I'm too absorbed? I'm busy fixing that past that I'm losing track of what I can be doing?
Doppelganger: Try to just let it go, Know that justice moves slow, But it comes in the end...I'm happy when life's good and when it's bad I cry. I got values, but I don't know how or why...I keep my eye wide open all the time....There is only so much I can owe!
Me: I'm working on the past while losing my present so I have not future. I'm spending too much time on the drawing board instead of out in the field.
Doppelganger: I think I had a song to sing and it went......life goes on.....such barrel of fun.....life goes on....Nothing going to change my world....I told them all to go to hell, that would suit them very well....Never going to be enough money, never going to be enough drugs and I'm never going to get old.....You live, you learn
Me: So.....just get out there? What if I screw things up? What if I fuck things up again? What is I ruin people's lives and cause them to hate me and ....
Doppelganger: What the hell are we fighting for? just surrender and it won't hurt at all....Your dog days are over...It doesn't hurt me. You want to feel how it feels. You want to know, know that it doesn't hurt me...All of this, all of this can be yours. Just give me what I want and no one gets hurt.
Me:But you don't think....
Doppelganger: Welcome to your life. There's no turning back. Even while we sleep, we will find you acting on your best behavior....Who knows where my dreams will end I'll follow as they grow ....Look at yourself, man. You're a winner. You're number one, don't you ever forget it. You look good today man. Go out there and show them who's boss!
Me: Really?
Doppelganger: Was it a millionaire that said imagine no possessions? The masses are asses....well, sandcastles made of sand fall into the sea.....eventually...Cause love's such an old-fashioned word And love dares you to care for The people on the edge of the night And love dares you to change our way of Caring about ourselves.....Love can conquer anyone...I would swallow my pride, I would choke on the rinds But the lack thereof would leave me empty inside I would swallow my doubt turn it inside out Find nothin' but faith in nothin'....All we are saying is to give peace a chance.
Me: I get it. Just go. I've changed more than enough and not matter what I need to keep moving and if I screw up then I do. I should just keep moving, adapting, and be cool. So this is the difference between us? You got to that point and I'm not there yet?
Doppelganger: A friend in need is a friend indeed, a friend who bleeds is better ...but we got the biggest balls of them all! Carry on! I don't wanna stop.....If I had my time again I would do it all the same....I keep saying that it's getting too much, but I know that I'm a liar...I'm worth a million in prizes! Oh, well, a touch of gray, kinda suits you anyway, That's all I had to say 'cause it's alright
Me: Things will get better. I just have to stop worrying about them and just do. If I fuck up, I fuck up. I already know how to make amends. I already know how to make things better and how not to make mistakes and hurt others. The whole point that I've gone through all of this is because I care and I am willing to work with others and I think of them first. I am not who I was before. I changed and I'm better.
Doppelganger: The times are a changing. And in the end, the love we make is equal to the love we take.
Me: I'm....wow....thanks. I think I needed that.
*I start getting up and walking off as my double smiles and waves. I turn back and ask*
Me: So....this. Is it possible to do this again?
Doppelganger: You know my name....look up the number.....I'm you.....sad but true.
Waking up the Sun was rising high enough to flood the room with light. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and felt whole for one. Walking towards the bathroom I caught a glimpse in the mirror just passing by that caused me to stop. I looked into my eyes and felt that lose of guilt. I was looking at my reflection and I felt good and awake. I've come to realize that I'm not going to kick myself anymore. I'd done. I was done a week ago, but I realize that my act of faith has been rewarded. I find the proof I needed and realize that there is only so much I can do to pay for the moments in the past that I erred.
Life is good. Life is always going to be good.
Me: Really?
Doppelganger: Was it a millionaire that said imagine no possessions? The masses are asses....well, sandcastles made of sand fall into the sea.....eventually...Cause love's such an old-fashioned word And love dares you to care for The people on the edge of the night And love dares you to change our way of Caring about ourselves.....Love can conquer anyone...I would swallow my pride, I would choke on the rinds But the lack thereof would leave me empty inside I would swallow my doubt turn it inside out Find nothin' but faith in nothin'....All we are saying is to give peace a chance.
Me: I get it. Just go. I've changed more than enough and not matter what I need to keep moving and if I screw up then I do. I should just keep moving, adapting, and be cool. So this is the difference between us? You got to that point and I'm not there yet?
Doppelganger: A friend in need is a friend indeed, a friend who bleeds is better ...but we got the biggest balls of them all! Carry on! I don't wanna stop.....If I had my time again I would do it all the same....I keep saying that it's getting too much, but I know that I'm a liar...I'm worth a million in prizes! Oh, well, a touch of gray, kinda suits you anyway, That's all I had to say 'cause it's alright
Me: Things will get better. I just have to stop worrying about them and just do. If I fuck up, I fuck up. I already know how to make amends. I already know how to make things better and how not to make mistakes and hurt others. The whole point that I've gone through all of this is because I care and I am willing to work with others and I think of them first. I am not who I was before. I changed and I'm better.
Doppelganger: The times are a changing. And in the end, the love we make is equal to the love we take.
Me: I'm....wow....thanks. I think I needed that.
*I start getting up and walking off as my double smiles and waves. I turn back and ask*
Me: So....this. Is it possible to do this again?
Doppelganger: You know my name....look up the number.....I'm you.....sad but true.
Waking up the Sun was rising high enough to flood the room with light. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and felt whole for one. Walking towards the bathroom I caught a glimpse in the mirror just passing by that caused me to stop. I looked into my eyes and felt that lose of guilt. I was looking at my reflection and I felt good and awake. I've come to realize that I'm not going to kick myself anymore. I'd done. I was done a week ago, but I realize that my act of faith has been rewarded. I find the proof I needed and realize that there is only so much I can do to pay for the moments in the past that I erred.
Life is good. Life is always going to be good.
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
Shower Epiphany: the horror.....the horror.....
I've realize something that chilled me to my bones.
I've never said I wanted to write fiction. Even young I never told people that I wanted to be a great writer. A writer of stories and epic novels that would have people clinging to every word from my imagination. Or even I wanted to write to fans of millions who would crowd a bookstore one day for a glimpse of me and even have a small bit of talk while I sign their books.
I said I wanted one thing only.
I said, I want to write horror.
....
I've never said I wanted to write fiction. Even young I never told people that I wanted to be a great writer. A writer of stories and epic novels that would have people clinging to every word from my imagination. Or even I wanted to write to fans of millions who would crowd a bookstore one day for a glimpse of me and even have a small bit of talk while I sign their books.
I said I wanted one thing only.
I said, I want to write horror.
....
Sunday, July 28, 2013
Shower Epiphany:La mejor salsa del mundo es la hambre, y como esta no falta a los pobres, siempre comen con gusto.
I know I haven't written a while since I'm in a peaceful place in life. I've come to realize why this pisses me off: I am a creature of chaos.
Allow me to explain.
I am someone who is used to constant and never ending change. I am a child of Entropy and I thrive in continuing change. Meaning that if you put me in straight I will become determined and angry and a good chance of suicidal behavior that will end me up in either missing teeth or adding to my "collection". Not a good thing for me. This is me in constant insomnia, consistent pressure and odds are against me to the point that I'm a loser bet. This inspires me to and forces me to push forward for a goal of making people eat crow and suffer for doubting me. This has made me stubborn, but very recluse. Not good for a creative outlook.
In complete opposite, I get continual 8-9 hour sleep. Life is not only "good", but boring. It makes me slow and lazy. It taxes me in a way that warriors of old would end up going mad knowing that eternal peace would force them to dire measures. It's me playing three weeks of WoW letting my body to become lax, injured to the point where I can only wait and sit, it's me in love. That continually constant and steady does of oxytocin makes me ......soft. And that softness in my experience always leads me into a lulled mind and a unsuspected fall that ends up with me cursing myself for letting it happen.
You can see why I have issues with sleeping now. Makes me too vulnerable.
And yet, I need a constant amount of chaos. I need to charge into my windmills as only Cervantes could understand. I need to be broken and sore while having small transmittances of peaceful recluse. I need to carry a banner, even if it's a lost cause and a target on my back. I need to hunt and be hunted. I need to sleep and to dream. I desire the physical conflict and the mental challenge that life has given me in real and intangible means. I need to remain hungry to know how sweet food is. I need to sport bruises to carry an audience of my tales. I need to suffer enough to keep me awake and yet allow me to slumber for small moments. If enthalpy is allowed to rule then I know I am simply too close to death in one form or another.
Pain is growth. Growth is adaption and evolution. Evolution is immortality.
If unchallenged, why would I want to continue? What is life without my windmills? Seriously, I'm asking you. I'm searching for new windmills to keep me sane.
SO happy as I am, I know I can slumber peacefully and remain asleep. that long sleep will be the death of me and that angers me, not enough to create, but enough to know that I need to find more windmills.
Don't be food.
Allow me to explain.
I am someone who is used to constant and never ending change. I am a child of Entropy and I thrive in continuing change. Meaning that if you put me in straight I will become determined and angry and a good chance of suicidal behavior that will end me up in either missing teeth or adding to my "collection". Not a good thing for me. This is me in constant insomnia, consistent pressure and odds are against me to the point that I'm a loser bet. This inspires me to and forces me to push forward for a goal of making people eat crow and suffer for doubting me. This has made me stubborn, but very recluse. Not good for a creative outlook.
In complete opposite, I get continual 8-9 hour sleep. Life is not only "good", but boring. It makes me slow and lazy. It taxes me in a way that warriors of old would end up going mad knowing that eternal peace would force them to dire measures. It's me playing three weeks of WoW letting my body to become lax, injured to the point where I can only wait and sit, it's me in love. That continually constant and steady does of oxytocin makes me ......soft. And that softness in my experience always leads me into a lulled mind and a unsuspected fall that ends up with me cursing myself for letting it happen.
You can see why I have issues with sleeping now. Makes me too vulnerable.
And yet, I need a constant amount of chaos. I need to charge into my windmills as only Cervantes could understand. I need to be broken and sore while having small transmittances of peaceful recluse. I need to carry a banner, even if it's a lost cause and a target on my back. I need to hunt and be hunted. I need to sleep and to dream. I desire the physical conflict and the mental challenge that life has given me in real and intangible means. I need to remain hungry to know how sweet food is. I need to sport bruises to carry an audience of my tales. I need to suffer enough to keep me awake and yet allow me to slumber for small moments. If enthalpy is allowed to rule then I know I am simply too close to death in one form or another.
Pain is growth. Growth is adaption and evolution. Evolution is immortality.
If unchallenged, why would I want to continue? What is life without my windmills? Seriously, I'm asking you. I'm searching for new windmills to keep me sane.
SO happy as I am, I know I can slumber peacefully and remain asleep. that long sleep will be the death of me and that angers me, not enough to create, but enough to know that I need to find more windmills.
Don't be food.
Sunday, May 19, 2013
Shower Epiphany: Fast and Furiously in the Closet.
If the three Lord of the Rings movies are about groups of males from all different paths of life spending a journey together to discover that they had build the closest of bonds with each other to the point where they either jump into bed with each other with arms wide open or simply smiling at the joyful festivities then the 6 Fast and Furious movies are about extremely closeted men who surround themselves with manly and rugged icons of manhood such as muscle cars, loud music, faceless bitches shaking their bodies in sexual exhibitionism and faceless anonymity and tough, single syllable grunts on how tough and masculine they are. Why do I have this hunch? In the latest movie an airplane literally ejaculates a muscle car. Sorry, either every man is really a 14 year old boy playing Xbox, "you homofags" *squeaky voice*, or just really insecure and threatened with their sexuality that they need to be reminded every few years.
I'm good. I answered my three questions years ago and I'm happy with what I'm into.
I'm good. I answered my three questions years ago and I'm happy with what I'm into.
Thursday, February 28, 2013
An answer to why I write so much when I was asked over having pancakes over three months ago.
Some mornings I have to watch out what thoughts I entertain. I've come to realize that I don't think lightly and I have the annoying tendency to think over things for a period of days if not weeks. It's the reason why I usually stop saying hello to most people and simply continue our conversation from weeks before. I think about things when I'm in the shower, walking, sleeping, eating, staring at any object longer than a minute and have even gone insomniatic when I have not given it proper time to think. It's the reason why I have to stop some of you from giving me "too many details" because I simply can not let go of a thought or an image in my head. In some cases I need to keep my mind solemn enough so that I can look people in the face and not have them stare at me "looking at them funny". And for your information, I have no poker face at all. It's so bad that I have to be careful what music I listen to and usually have to study the music video to not only sing the song throughout, but sometimes I have to do the choreography.
I was told by someone that not only do I have this as a "strike", but I'm the type of person who must experience everything before I can honestly judge something and chances are I'm going to give something so much thought that I'm going to give it a try and things that I should not give too much thought I end up "doing the math" to make sure at least it's survivable. Yes, physics and stats have not helped me to be "safe" in this respect. In fact, moments that I usually end up messing things up my previous thought was before, "Let's see what happens" and usually end up with me thinking "what the hell was I thinking". Yes, Will E. Coyote has nothing on me.
And so, I need to watch out my thoughts. Not only because I may say the wrong thing to someone, but because I know that if I entertain thoughts too long that I have the tendency to lock myself up behind doors and not come out. Sometimes because I can't get over the thought. Other times because I haven't solved it yet and I'm too busy to mimic people to go outside. I'd say every 30 seconds I'm backtracking a thought. Oddly enough it can start with "I like pancakes" and end up with "If we evacuate everyone form the 'Holy Land' and we ignite a few nuclear bombs then no one will fight over it and it will remain holy......then again people will just build walls around it and start arguing over the fucking walls.....didn't I like pancakes a minute ago?"
And so I have to watch over the chain of thought that passes over me. I grok too much and it's not healthy and sadly there are only a few things that can blank my mind long enough to actually not think and even fewer I can do alone. Thankfully writing helps and I have to empty my mind if only for a moment. It not only helps empty it, but it gives me a chance to read over what I was thinking and actually have a chance to end the chain without one of these "oh shit" moments.
So that is why I write. Alot. Thank you for asking.
Wait a minute, didn't I like pancakes a minute ago?
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Three Stranger Days or How to Stay Sane while Pondering your Mortality
To be honest, there isn't much to write this week. I've been a little busy to work on anything substantial or sit and ponder thoughts worth pondering. Instead I'm in the school's clinic waiting room waiting to hear some news while wearing a paper mask.
You know, normal crap.
As some of you know who bother reading this gibberish that falls out of my head (you people do know there is porn on the internet, really porn. You can go watch right now if you want something better to do) I've been sick since December, but that's not explaining all of it. Back in '93 or '94, I picked up TB while working in a Westwood investment brokerage place cleaning offices for minimum wage. I had a 4 month old baby and independent as I thought I was there were not many opportunities for teenaged fathers. So cleaning offices between taking classes was the best thing for me even though I had an hour and half to clean 50 offices, four bathrooms, a break room and trying to make sure that everything was placed back where it was, especially the wallets and bill folds that they had "laying around" to see if I was dispensable. Funny thing was that I worked for two weeks and then got the worst cold I've ever had. I was in bed for a week and had to leave work which considered my absence a pain and still refused to pay me my wages. They called it even for "training me" even though I've knew how to vacuum and clean a house for years.
Long story short I lose a ton of weight until I weighed 120lbs, became sickly, and look like a walking corpse until I took a TB test for a TA job. I thought it was odd that I had a huge lump where they injected dead TB cells. A lump means that your body is fighting it while it going away meant that it never infected you. While most young men get puberty and muscles, my growth spurt was used to keep me alive long enough to realize that I needed I've been dying. Oddly enough, being told that I had TB meant nothing to me. To me it was like telling me that I had a bad haircut and thought, "ok, so what now?" Others around me were a bit more emotional. My father yelled at me as if I decided at this point of life to rebel again living also for kicks. In-laws were solemn and respectful as if I had been at my own wake, while my wife at the time cried her eyes out in a way that actually convinced me that she kind of loved me between the abusive behavior.
To say that I was in the dark, is saying a lot. Either way I was told what was wrong or that there was a new epidemic of TB rising in the US and that it wasn't my fault. I liked that. I like being told that something wasn't my fault for once. I was given a yearly dose of nasty pills to take and took them. It wasn't until the 6 months after my divorce when I started to pack on muscle and add a few inches to my height. I would not get control of my health really until a few years ago. Before I started to pack on weight I was basically given a free ride to eat whatever I wanted since I could not gain a pound. Funny how stress works that way. I would have to finish my degree to actually learn how to take care of myself.
Thinking about it, it was then when I stopped looking in mirrors. It's sad seeing the face of death staring back at you. I still cringe looking at any existing photos of me. As determined as I was, I was no where near as healthy as I am now which is kind of sad. In one decade to weigh 120lbs and just a few years ago to weigh 255lbs, my heaviest. While some guys had years to pack on muscle and to get physiques that made women drool I was the walking dead. While others talked about their body fat and their VO2, I was trying to learn to run again after the vein burst in my leg. If I can look back to the fittest I've been it would have to be before my shoulder tore in '07. Hmmmm…..I think I under stand my lack of self esteem.
It's kind of hard to think you're attractive when you have little control over your own body. It's almost like being branded permanently ugly. And yet, I've been in numerous relationships. I could only imagine that I developed a great personality with what little I had physically. That and a huge dose of sarcasm and humor always helps. And yet, I can see myself being ever being the object of lust. I have to say that my "game" was never taking off my shirt, but making a woman laugh her way to bed. It's funny when you are seen as different and ego wise it's crushing to think that anyone looking at you would only turn away in disgust or simply put you in the category where you have no chance to sleep with them. If anything I've worked my ass into the category after so much work. Thinking about it I can see how I've became most of the women's guilty pleasures. Never really the guy on the pitching mound, but the one on the bench or warming up. The other guy.
Come to think of it, my entire dating history has been coffee and hanging out. I don't think I've ever had a real date. Odd.
Sitting now in the room, I start looking around and start poking my nose in the regular places. Rubber gloves, giant cotton swabs, and the large container of condoms. It's been a while since I had to get any. My encounters have been sparse and more of a surprise lately, almost as if it was already decided that sex was to be had and I was invited at the last moment. Still I like looking through them. They're fun to pass on after a conversation, usually with a comment on how I care about their health and telling them not to use them up in the same place. Always a laugh. I pull out a couple of flavored ones and know I'm making a face. Banana? Really? Who the hell is gutsy enough to pull out a banana flavored condom and have the bravado to sport it. I'd think you'd be laughed out of the room. Then with some thought I realize that I would. My bravado has always been humor based, especially to open up the conversation to sex. You start out with, "Hey, wanna see something surreal", and after a few laughs the topic is explored and brought up and then I blink and I'm in someone's thighs wondering how I got here.
Not enough to stop sex usually, but enough to make me wonder how I got here. I get these moments a lot. Unless it's a steady girlfriend, and those I can count on one hand, I've never been really instigated sex. It's more of a laughing on the couch moment and then clothes are torn off. As if I was tempting enough for a woman to "make a stupid mistake". Hmmmmm….I've been a lot of women's "stupid mistake" and very few desires. Yea, did I mention my ego is tiny? Most guys worry about a tiny wiener. I worry about making that jump from friends hanging out to loved ones. Yea….wow. A lot to think about.
So why the hell am I thinking about this when I'm in a clinic? Why am I wearing a mask? Why am I going to see a doctor when I hate going to see them and rather self medicate and even perform minor surgery? Why the hell am I avoiding talking about why I'm here and rather talk about what bugs me? Ok, fine. I've been sick since December to now with at least three colds or flu hitting me one after the other. Since it always takes me time to recover I'm used to having to cough up a lot of phlegm. It's just one of those prices I paid to survive TB. Colds make me their bitch and I cough my lungs up every morning in the winter months with basically is 8 of them. I know I live in sunny Cali, but I'm not a creature of cold and I more than willing to never see snow again if I can have my lungs clear.
So one morning while coughing up some nasty phlegm into the white sink I stare at a lot of blood. A lot of it. More than a tablespoon. More blood than phlegm. Blood. Oddly enough, seeing that much blood you'd think I would have gone to the doctor sooner. Instead I stared at the mess in the sink and thought how pretty it looked and if I Facebooked would anyone appreciate the contours and colors. I think what bothered me the most was the tiny pink bits. I poked at them and wondered what they could be. After some time I simply coughed up all the blood I could until it stopped and then washed it all down the sink.
A fluke.
Then the next morning I cough up more. Same amount, same color and more pink bits. I've done this from Wednesday to Sunday. I decided to go in after then. I honestly hate to go to the doctor and paying out of pocket if I'm not sick. And so I show up, pay my fees to go in, get my temperature and vitals taken by the nurse who remembers me from the last time I popped my shoulder back in (they weren't going to do it and I wasn't going to ride the bus with a shoulder out of socket), and told that I need to give them a blood test and an X ray. After a day of all that I ask them if I'm contagious in which they say they do not think so behind paper masks. So for three days I wait until I get my results in the morning.
And so, I think of my mortality for three days. It's very different from the last time when I thought I was going to bleed to death. You don't have time to grok the details. You simply make peace as quickly as possible and wait to die. Here I'm waiting to see how bad things are. Am I losing weight because body is using up everything to fight it off? Am I going to be sick, constantly coughing up crap and swigging cough syrup like gin? Am I going to have to be taken away to be quarantined? Am I going to be taking pills for another year or are things worse? If it's worse, how long will I have? Good years? Can I still be active? Will I be bedridden or can I go outside. Will I look like a cadaver again? Will I tell people? Can I hide it? What do I do if I can't hide it anymore?
Yea, that kind of stuff. Thinking of this stuff is bad for your health. So I only given it enough thought to know that I'll cross that bridge when I come to it and there is no point thinking about it. And so I didn't. It's that easy. I mean, one you realize you're going to die there isn't much to worry about. I mean, I got to go one day, right? So why worry about that. Just do what I can and everything will handle itself. Live free or die trying and all that. The last thing I needed was stress because that stuff can kill you.
The worst part about being dead is that you're not alive anymore. So why not live it up?
And then, it hit me. Or actually I got hit with it. Seems that I'm invited to an event when I get to dress up and look swanky. Fun. Then I was asked if there was someone I'd like to take along and I thought no. It bothered me. The thought bothered me. It made me wonder why I was thinking about this over anything else. It's funny, I completely gave up wondering if I was going to die soon because there was nothing I can do about it and there was no point is worrying about it, but ask me if I'd like to take someone to an event and I'm stumped. I thought about it. Do I know anyone well enough to say invite them? I've been so focused on finishing school and now getting my life back on track that I completely gone Hermit. But, I talk to women all the time and yet no one single, worth getting to know better or know well enough to ask them to dress up and come with. The irony was rich. I'm more worried on asking someone than facing my mortality. You live a bachelor and focus on life and you get a little spoiled. You make your own hours and you focus on what you want and you then do what you want. That is my life. I get up when I want to, eat when I want to and that's it. I stopped including anyone else since my children moved away. No responsibilities to anyone really so I simply ghost my life through.
To be honest, since the last odd encounter with a woman I've pretty much given up. I mean I stopped caring. I haven't bothered with even being socially nice outside of a small group of people who I enjoy. I bred already. Twice. So that obligation is out. I can enjoy a decent conversation with people and sure there are some people I would not mind getting to know more, but I still have that deep down fear on losing them. I mean better a friend than an angry ex. I've pretty much enjoyed my ugly phase and just not caring. I mean the only reason I cut my toe nails is that I rather not tear them out on carpet or a mat or the such. In truth, I don't think I can endure dealing with that crap again. To be honest, with a screwed up shoulder, bummy lungs, and tons of more issues I can name from the top of my head I can't see what I have to offer to someone. I don't think I can keep someone happy longer than two years. I honestly consider myself unattractive.
But then, why do I get hit on?
Fluke. Must be.
And so my biggest worry in this examination room is not that I'm sick or that the bloody lungs which stopped bleeding on Monday is a symptom of something terrible. It's if I can find a date. That. All of a sudden I'm 15 again with the cracking voice and the thought that I have to get a date for some thing and junk. Really? So sad. So I decide to tell my friend that I'll go stag and if they can find someone willing to go stag too than that's cool. If not I'll just not go and give a couple a chance to go. I'm not even going to make a joke on taking sand to a beach or taking someone else's date while I'm there. I just don't need this pressure. I'm dying! That's more then enough, right?
So the doctor walks in with his mask and we talk though paper conversing on how I'm feeling and if I'm still bleeding. I say I feel great, not mentioning my dating issues. He looks at my X rays and says that I have huge lungs and that feels like a compliment. He then tells me that I'm clean and that my blood results are ok. No infection or anything. He offers me a referral to a specialist if I keep bleeding which to this day I have not. He then offers the theory that it's was probably just my lungs irritated for so many months. I mean, who else would not cough up blood? The weight loss? All me and he recommends I lose more to get my BMI under 25. So all in all I'm in great shape. No death for me. I'm out of $55 bucks and I'm ok. See this is why I don't go to doctors. Such a waste.
I walk out and take the paper mask off, feeling stupid. Why make me more of a pariah even though it hides my ugly more. I decide to tell my fiend that I'm not seeing anyone I'd take to the event and shrug off that issue. I'll cross that bridge when I'm force to get near it.
Not now. Busy existing, if you can call it that.
You know, normal crap.
As some of you know who bother reading this gibberish that falls out of my head (you people do know there is porn on the internet, really porn. You can go watch right now if you want something better to do) I've been sick since December, but that's not explaining all of it. Back in '93 or '94, I picked up TB while working in a Westwood investment brokerage place cleaning offices for minimum wage. I had a 4 month old baby and independent as I thought I was there were not many opportunities for teenaged fathers. So cleaning offices between taking classes was the best thing for me even though I had an hour and half to clean 50 offices, four bathrooms, a break room and trying to make sure that everything was placed back where it was, especially the wallets and bill folds that they had "laying around" to see if I was dispensable. Funny thing was that I worked for two weeks and then got the worst cold I've ever had. I was in bed for a week and had to leave work which considered my absence a pain and still refused to pay me my wages. They called it even for "training me" even though I've knew how to vacuum and clean a house for years.
Long story short I lose a ton of weight until I weighed 120lbs, became sickly, and look like a walking corpse until I took a TB test for a TA job. I thought it was odd that I had a huge lump where they injected dead TB cells. A lump means that your body is fighting it while it going away meant that it never infected you. While most young men get puberty and muscles, my growth spurt was used to keep me alive long enough to realize that I needed I've been dying. Oddly enough, being told that I had TB meant nothing to me. To me it was like telling me that I had a bad haircut and thought, "ok, so what now?" Others around me were a bit more emotional. My father yelled at me as if I decided at this point of life to rebel again living also for kicks. In-laws were solemn and respectful as if I had been at my own wake, while my wife at the time cried her eyes out in a way that actually convinced me that she kind of loved me between the abusive behavior.
To say that I was in the dark, is saying a lot. Either way I was told what was wrong or that there was a new epidemic of TB rising in the US and that it wasn't my fault. I liked that. I like being told that something wasn't my fault for once. I was given a yearly dose of nasty pills to take and took them. It wasn't until the 6 months after my divorce when I started to pack on muscle and add a few inches to my height. I would not get control of my health really until a few years ago. Before I started to pack on weight I was basically given a free ride to eat whatever I wanted since I could not gain a pound. Funny how stress works that way. I would have to finish my degree to actually learn how to take care of myself.
Thinking about it, it was then when I stopped looking in mirrors. It's sad seeing the face of death staring back at you. I still cringe looking at any existing photos of me. As determined as I was, I was no where near as healthy as I am now which is kind of sad. In one decade to weigh 120lbs and just a few years ago to weigh 255lbs, my heaviest. While some guys had years to pack on muscle and to get physiques that made women drool I was the walking dead. While others talked about their body fat and their VO2, I was trying to learn to run again after the vein burst in my leg. If I can look back to the fittest I've been it would have to be before my shoulder tore in '07. Hmmmm…..I think I under stand my lack of self esteem.
It's kind of hard to think you're attractive when you have little control over your own body. It's almost like being branded permanently ugly. And yet, I've been in numerous relationships. I could only imagine that I developed a great personality with what little I had physically. That and a huge dose of sarcasm and humor always helps. And yet, I can see myself being ever being the object of lust. I have to say that my "game" was never taking off my shirt, but making a woman laugh her way to bed. It's funny when you are seen as different and ego wise it's crushing to think that anyone looking at you would only turn away in disgust or simply put you in the category where you have no chance to sleep with them. If anything I've worked my ass into the category after so much work. Thinking about it I can see how I've became most of the women's guilty pleasures. Never really the guy on the pitching mound, but the one on the bench or warming up. The other guy.
Come to think of it, my entire dating history has been coffee and hanging out. I don't think I've ever had a real date. Odd.
Sitting now in the room, I start looking around and start poking my nose in the regular places. Rubber gloves, giant cotton swabs, and the large container of condoms. It's been a while since I had to get any. My encounters have been sparse and more of a surprise lately, almost as if it was already decided that sex was to be had and I was invited at the last moment. Still I like looking through them. They're fun to pass on after a conversation, usually with a comment on how I care about their health and telling them not to use them up in the same place. Always a laugh. I pull out a couple of flavored ones and know I'm making a face. Banana? Really? Who the hell is gutsy enough to pull out a banana flavored condom and have the bravado to sport it. I'd think you'd be laughed out of the room. Then with some thought I realize that I would. My bravado has always been humor based, especially to open up the conversation to sex. You start out with, "Hey, wanna see something surreal", and after a few laughs the topic is explored and brought up and then I blink and I'm in someone's thighs wondering how I got here.
Not enough to stop sex usually, but enough to make me wonder how I got here. I get these moments a lot. Unless it's a steady girlfriend, and those I can count on one hand, I've never been really instigated sex. It's more of a laughing on the couch moment and then clothes are torn off. As if I was tempting enough for a woman to "make a stupid mistake". Hmmmmm….I've been a lot of women's "stupid mistake" and very few desires. Yea, did I mention my ego is tiny? Most guys worry about a tiny wiener. I worry about making that jump from friends hanging out to loved ones. Yea….wow. A lot to think about.
So why the hell am I thinking about this when I'm in a clinic? Why am I wearing a mask? Why am I going to see a doctor when I hate going to see them and rather self medicate and even perform minor surgery? Why the hell am I avoiding talking about why I'm here and rather talk about what bugs me? Ok, fine. I've been sick since December to now with at least three colds or flu hitting me one after the other. Since it always takes me time to recover I'm used to having to cough up a lot of phlegm. It's just one of those prices I paid to survive TB. Colds make me their bitch and I cough my lungs up every morning in the winter months with basically is 8 of them. I know I live in sunny Cali, but I'm not a creature of cold and I more than willing to never see snow again if I can have my lungs clear.
So one morning while coughing up some nasty phlegm into the white sink I stare at a lot of blood. A lot of it. More than a tablespoon. More blood than phlegm. Blood. Oddly enough, seeing that much blood you'd think I would have gone to the doctor sooner. Instead I stared at the mess in the sink and thought how pretty it looked and if I Facebooked would anyone appreciate the contours and colors. I think what bothered me the most was the tiny pink bits. I poked at them and wondered what they could be. After some time I simply coughed up all the blood I could until it stopped and then washed it all down the sink.
A fluke.
Then the next morning I cough up more. Same amount, same color and more pink bits. I've done this from Wednesday to Sunday. I decided to go in after then. I honestly hate to go to the doctor and paying out of pocket if I'm not sick. And so I show up, pay my fees to go in, get my temperature and vitals taken by the nurse who remembers me from the last time I popped my shoulder back in (they weren't going to do it and I wasn't going to ride the bus with a shoulder out of socket), and told that I need to give them a blood test and an X ray. After a day of all that I ask them if I'm contagious in which they say they do not think so behind paper masks. So for three days I wait until I get my results in the morning.
And so, I think of my mortality for three days. It's very different from the last time when I thought I was going to bleed to death. You don't have time to grok the details. You simply make peace as quickly as possible and wait to die. Here I'm waiting to see how bad things are. Am I losing weight because body is using up everything to fight it off? Am I going to be sick, constantly coughing up crap and swigging cough syrup like gin? Am I going to have to be taken away to be quarantined? Am I going to be taking pills for another year or are things worse? If it's worse, how long will I have? Good years? Can I still be active? Will I be bedridden or can I go outside. Will I look like a cadaver again? Will I tell people? Can I hide it? What do I do if I can't hide it anymore?
Yea, that kind of stuff. Thinking of this stuff is bad for your health. So I only given it enough thought to know that I'll cross that bridge when I come to it and there is no point thinking about it. And so I didn't. It's that easy. I mean, one you realize you're going to die there isn't much to worry about. I mean, I got to go one day, right? So why worry about that. Just do what I can and everything will handle itself. Live free or die trying and all that. The last thing I needed was stress because that stuff can kill you.
The worst part about being dead is that you're not alive anymore. So why not live it up?
And then, it hit me. Or actually I got hit with it. Seems that I'm invited to an event when I get to dress up and look swanky. Fun. Then I was asked if there was someone I'd like to take along and I thought no. It bothered me. The thought bothered me. It made me wonder why I was thinking about this over anything else. It's funny, I completely gave up wondering if I was going to die soon because there was nothing I can do about it and there was no point is worrying about it, but ask me if I'd like to take someone to an event and I'm stumped. I thought about it. Do I know anyone well enough to say invite them? I've been so focused on finishing school and now getting my life back on track that I completely gone Hermit. But, I talk to women all the time and yet no one single, worth getting to know better or know well enough to ask them to dress up and come with. The irony was rich. I'm more worried on asking someone than facing my mortality. You live a bachelor and focus on life and you get a little spoiled. You make your own hours and you focus on what you want and you then do what you want. That is my life. I get up when I want to, eat when I want to and that's it. I stopped including anyone else since my children moved away. No responsibilities to anyone really so I simply ghost my life through.
To be honest, since the last odd encounter with a woman I've pretty much given up. I mean I stopped caring. I haven't bothered with even being socially nice outside of a small group of people who I enjoy. I bred already. Twice. So that obligation is out. I can enjoy a decent conversation with people and sure there are some people I would not mind getting to know more, but I still have that deep down fear on losing them. I mean better a friend than an angry ex. I've pretty much enjoyed my ugly phase and just not caring. I mean the only reason I cut my toe nails is that I rather not tear them out on carpet or a mat or the such. In truth, I don't think I can endure dealing with that crap again. To be honest, with a screwed up shoulder, bummy lungs, and tons of more issues I can name from the top of my head I can't see what I have to offer to someone. I don't think I can keep someone happy longer than two years. I honestly consider myself unattractive.
But then, why do I get hit on?
Fluke. Must be.
And so my biggest worry in this examination room is not that I'm sick or that the bloody lungs which stopped bleeding on Monday is a symptom of something terrible. It's if I can find a date. That. All of a sudden I'm 15 again with the cracking voice and the thought that I have to get a date for some thing and junk. Really? So sad. So I decide to tell my friend that I'll go stag and if they can find someone willing to go stag too than that's cool. If not I'll just not go and give a couple a chance to go. I'm not even going to make a joke on taking sand to a beach or taking someone else's date while I'm there. I just don't need this pressure. I'm dying! That's more then enough, right?
So the doctor walks in with his mask and we talk though paper conversing on how I'm feeling and if I'm still bleeding. I say I feel great, not mentioning my dating issues. He looks at my X rays and says that I have huge lungs and that feels like a compliment. He then tells me that I'm clean and that my blood results are ok. No infection or anything. He offers me a referral to a specialist if I keep bleeding which to this day I have not. He then offers the theory that it's was probably just my lungs irritated for so many months. I mean, who else would not cough up blood? The weight loss? All me and he recommends I lose more to get my BMI under 25. So all in all I'm in great shape. No death for me. I'm out of $55 bucks and I'm ok. See this is why I don't go to doctors. Such a waste.
I walk out and take the paper mask off, feeling stupid. Why make me more of a pariah even though it hides my ugly more. I decide to tell my fiend that I'm not seeing anyone I'd take to the event and shrug off that issue. I'll cross that bridge when I'm force to get near it.
Not now. Busy existing, if you can call it that.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Love's Naloxone Or Taking the Anti-love pill. Part Five - A Life Of Illusion: Prologue
Prologue
There is a cultural divide that places American cinema in a campy genre that seem to stagnate with hero worship, phallic challenges of manhood, and at least ten explosions for every exposed pair of breasts. In contrast, I tend to lean towards Japanese Samurai movies which instead of concentrating on the awesomeness of the lead role it tend to expose humanity in greatness and then to bring an end to the such, ensuring it immortality rather than fan boys arguing if their octogenarian is great or super great. Leaning towards immortality rather than the use of well worn masks that make grown men the target of pity, I'd rather face the end leaving some question to the imagination rather than destroy the mystery of the moment.
Understanding that I usually favor a third person view rather than anything personal in exhibiting my personal experiences, I'm going to attempt to keep this exchange palpable and tangible. I will restrain from hiding behind the comfort of language and the assumption that many refuse to look up the meaning of a multi-syllable word or the hidden meaning behind a simplistic thought. They are my defense mechanism as well as my means to paint an image that some moments seem to be beyond my regular grasp. So in the spirit of Glasnost as a true child of the 80's would know, I will attempt to sit still and find comfort in not using the amazing skill of hiding.
In attempting to end this, I wanted to find the correct ending theme since I've so confidently strode forward into a simple plot use that offered an anchor for some to follow. Using lyrics to convey deeper meaning seems to have replaced the eternal words of great poets and playwrights. I weep for the new generation who modern bards simply repeat the same lyric or group efforts where noise and doctored sound to mask guttural grunts. And yet, using this method of conveyance I could not find the ending that I sought so much while writing the others. How can I simply end an ongoing process that may bring change a week later? To bring solitude to an ensuing journey would only expose myself to the arrogance of such a thought.
And so, I decided to use the play of role in which the world's stage was built on. Perhaps the rising of another life, I can not help to borrow on the use of illusions to masquerade our true motives. I know, I ramble on. And letting go always seems the hardest near the end. And with this, onwards to my story.
There is a cultural divide that places American cinema in a campy genre that seem to stagnate with hero worship, phallic challenges of manhood, and at least ten explosions for every exposed pair of breasts. In contrast, I tend to lean towards Japanese Samurai movies which instead of concentrating on the awesomeness of the lead role it tend to expose humanity in greatness and then to bring an end to the such, ensuring it immortality rather than fan boys arguing if their octogenarian is great or super great. Leaning towards immortality rather than the use of well worn masks that make grown men the target of pity, I'd rather face the end leaving some question to the imagination rather than destroy the mystery of the moment.
Understanding that I usually favor a third person view rather than anything personal in exhibiting my personal experiences, I'm going to attempt to keep this exchange palpable and tangible. I will restrain from hiding behind the comfort of language and the assumption that many refuse to look up the meaning of a multi-syllable word or the hidden meaning behind a simplistic thought. They are my defense mechanism as well as my means to paint an image that some moments seem to be beyond my regular grasp. So in the spirit of Glasnost as a true child of the 80's would know, I will attempt to sit still and find comfort in not using the amazing skill of hiding.
In attempting to end this, I wanted to find the correct ending theme since I've so confidently strode forward into a simple plot use that offered an anchor for some to follow. Using lyrics to convey deeper meaning seems to have replaced the eternal words of great poets and playwrights. I weep for the new generation who modern bards simply repeat the same lyric or group efforts where noise and doctored sound to mask guttural grunts. And yet, using this method of conveyance I could not find the ending that I sought so much while writing the others. How can I simply end an ongoing process that may bring change a week later? To bring solitude to an ensuing journey would only expose myself to the arrogance of such a thought.
And so, I decided to use the play of role in which the world's stage was built on. Perhaps the rising of another life, I can not help to borrow on the use of illusions to masquerade our true motives. I know, I ramble on. And letting go always seems the hardest near the end. And with this, onwards to my story.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Did I dream you dreamed about me?
She was soft to the touch as I held her close. There was no when or where as time and space held still as most dreams usually do. It's perhaps why we are haunted by them as we crawl towards those waking moments feeling nothing but confusion or a sense of what was. This dream was no different except I long have learned how to hold those whispers of thought together before they fade.
She was perfection to touch. Something which I've always sought for in my lackluster life. Perfection is an ideal that I could never reach in any way as I understand how time takes us all and weighs us down and pulls through any imperfection into eye shot. Yet my hands were very vocal in my senses as they screamed magnificence and elegance. Fingers traced over naked skin at illusory coolness with a heat behind it. Closing my eyes I sense nothing but glory and awe.
I held her close as she held no restraint. She pressed against me as I realized very quickly that she was my missing piece that I sought for ages awake and millennia asleep. Her body held no secrets yet there was a desire to know every inch of her as I held her within my arms, embracing the curves of her back and the contours of her waist. She was every woman I have loved and many who have been at arms distance. The richness of her skin soothed the flame within me as I knew I finally found her.
Then what worried me?
The sound of her voice captivated my soul and still has some chains that drag me towards her now even though I know I do not want her near. The voices of angels can never rival hers as every word was filled with light and meaning with carefully chosen word left no hidden meaning and yet hid more than I can imagine. Her voice lifted me and held my mind in a focus never attain in calm matters. Her melodic words inspired me now to write this in some foolish attempt to capture my siren. To remember her for our next meeting although I know that our last meeting I will not leave her again.
I remember vanilla, honeysuckle, cinnamon and a faint jasmine with every breath. Hunger and lust entwined as I wanted her in every way. She was food, she was sex, she was blood, she was lust incarnate. She was the muse that driven men to build temples to her. Men to sing songs of need and woe of the heart. Painters to stare longingly at their masterpieces in slow madness as they cried silent tears at exquisiteness unattainable. It has driven men to enter mortal battle with only an understanding that their national Venus has been wooed away from them.
Men and their carnal desires. Worthy of getting us all killed. I've never understood.
Moments held for days as I opened my eyes. I still could not look at her directly as I stole glances at her who smiled ever sweetly. She knew I would slowly take her all in, lose all reserve and that time was on her side here. Mice never faces a feline such as her. She was a temptress of Olde and understood that one's fall is usually attained by their own means rather than any assistance. Many warriors have fallen on their swords not from shame, but as their only resolve in moments of passion. A clear mind in a tempest of passions high is as welcomed as any harbor.
I knew well she is my undoing. She is why I've made every haughty action and every hasty resolution. I've been ruled by her before and sought her in all moments, strong and weak. I have always sought her out and worshiped her secretly even in moments where my closest of brothers were chosen over me. I could hear a faint voice deep within, screaming yet muffled, to run and get away. I can hear my sense of survival and reptilian advisory to run fast, hard, and far. I was food, I was sex, I was blood.
Eyes opened to take her all in and I felt my inner resolve weaken and lose rally. She is everything I've wanted and needed in this life. To have her now would only make my life complete and fulfilled. Words escaped me and I could not understand what was said or what was shared. It was the end of the world as everything has crumbled around me and yet cared not. No one has understood where true loyalty emanate within man and how it rises. What makes us brothers and men. What drives us forward when there is no morrow. We all seek her out and I have her now in my arms. How can I loosen my grip? How can I avoid my fall.
I've spent most of my life repairing what I have wroth with mine own hands. I've have forced myself to not be the creature of passion and chaos. I've rebuilt much of what I have destroyed and have paid for blood all that I have shed. I've made peace with my actions and I have paid penance of what I've committed. I carry the scars of a survivor and the sin of one who will never live, but endure for the rest of his existence. My desire for my end has always driven me to the worst of who I was and will be. I've come to grips at my killing motives and made peace at not that I will be judged by heaven and earth, but will end my time of walking one day mid step, incomplete and faulty as the the day I screamed at birth.
What am I willing to do to embrace my inner nature once more? Am I willing to die now and resurrect a life of hell and anguish even if it is my inner nature?
No.
Even with her in my arms I wanted to let go. The fly suffers from anguish and remorse at it's discovery on whose meal it will become. The spider simply dines and becomes nourish at the self destructive impulse of another's nature. She dines not on treachery of her own nature, but of the noble action of removing chaos and entropy, enthroning ethaply. She simply restores harmony and peace. Her nature is to end me, regardless of how I changed. She will be my last moment and I can not escape her for long.
I looked at her eyes, pleadingly. I need more time. I'm not ready yet. I'm not willing to end my moment without finishing my task. Not understanding that I still hold on tight and still want to taste what my end would be. That is would resolve itself better without my hand at play, as it always have done and does not need my interference at any level to return to homeostasis. Life will prosper and time will continue to move on without any accordance of mine.
Perhaps it was empathy in her eyes. Mayhaps I earned a stay for what I asked for or it was simply her knowledge that I will return once again with my own will and actions and that she never called me to her, but simply hold me close when I'm more than willing. Her arms never let go of me as they never really held on. I simply released my own hold and regain my coil once more even though I know it is not mine to keep.
I slowly awaken and felt the anguish and loss of her. I know this now as I write this. I wanted her back in my arms and I rue that I ever let her go. I rise to write and remember who she was and if I could ever find her again. Perhaps my dream was prophetic and not symbolic in any way. Perhaps I shall find her in my last steps. Perhaps I will remain haunted by her face and see her in the corner of my eye or in the closing elevator. Perhaps I .....
...perhaps I need to start my day.
She was perfection to touch. Something which I've always sought for in my lackluster life. Perfection is an ideal that I could never reach in any way as I understand how time takes us all and weighs us down and pulls through any imperfection into eye shot. Yet my hands were very vocal in my senses as they screamed magnificence and elegance. Fingers traced over naked skin at illusory coolness with a heat behind it. Closing my eyes I sense nothing but glory and awe.
I held her close as she held no restraint. She pressed against me as I realized very quickly that she was my missing piece that I sought for ages awake and millennia asleep. Her body held no secrets yet there was a desire to know every inch of her as I held her within my arms, embracing the curves of her back and the contours of her waist. She was every woman I have loved and many who have been at arms distance. The richness of her skin soothed the flame within me as I knew I finally found her.
Then what worried me?
The sound of her voice captivated my soul and still has some chains that drag me towards her now even though I know I do not want her near. The voices of angels can never rival hers as every word was filled with light and meaning with carefully chosen word left no hidden meaning and yet hid more than I can imagine. Her voice lifted me and held my mind in a focus never attain in calm matters. Her melodic words inspired me now to write this in some foolish attempt to capture my siren. To remember her for our next meeting although I know that our last meeting I will not leave her again.
I remember vanilla, honeysuckle, cinnamon and a faint jasmine with every breath. Hunger and lust entwined as I wanted her in every way. She was food, she was sex, she was blood, she was lust incarnate. She was the muse that driven men to build temples to her. Men to sing songs of need and woe of the heart. Painters to stare longingly at their masterpieces in slow madness as they cried silent tears at exquisiteness unattainable. It has driven men to enter mortal battle with only an understanding that their national Venus has been wooed away from them.
Men and their carnal desires. Worthy of getting us all killed. I've never understood.
Moments held for days as I opened my eyes. I still could not look at her directly as I stole glances at her who smiled ever sweetly. She knew I would slowly take her all in, lose all reserve and that time was on her side here. Mice never faces a feline such as her. She was a temptress of Olde and understood that one's fall is usually attained by their own means rather than any assistance. Many warriors have fallen on their swords not from shame, but as their only resolve in moments of passion. A clear mind in a tempest of passions high is as welcomed as any harbor.
I knew well she is my undoing. She is why I've made every haughty action and every hasty resolution. I've been ruled by her before and sought her in all moments, strong and weak. I have always sought her out and worshiped her secretly even in moments where my closest of brothers were chosen over me. I could hear a faint voice deep within, screaming yet muffled, to run and get away. I can hear my sense of survival and reptilian advisory to run fast, hard, and far. I was food, I was sex, I was blood.
Eyes opened to take her all in and I felt my inner resolve weaken and lose rally. She is everything I've wanted and needed in this life. To have her now would only make my life complete and fulfilled. Words escaped me and I could not understand what was said or what was shared. It was the end of the world as everything has crumbled around me and yet cared not. No one has understood where true loyalty emanate within man and how it rises. What makes us brothers and men. What drives us forward when there is no morrow. We all seek her out and I have her now in my arms. How can I loosen my grip? How can I avoid my fall.
I've spent most of my life repairing what I have wroth with mine own hands. I've have forced myself to not be the creature of passion and chaos. I've rebuilt much of what I have destroyed and have paid for blood all that I have shed. I've made peace with my actions and I have paid penance of what I've committed. I carry the scars of a survivor and the sin of one who will never live, but endure for the rest of his existence. My desire for my end has always driven me to the worst of who I was and will be. I've come to grips at my killing motives and made peace at not that I will be judged by heaven and earth, but will end my time of walking one day mid step, incomplete and faulty as the the day I screamed at birth.
What am I willing to do to embrace my inner nature once more? Am I willing to die now and resurrect a life of hell and anguish even if it is my inner nature?
No.
Even with her in my arms I wanted to let go. The fly suffers from anguish and remorse at it's discovery on whose meal it will become. The spider simply dines and becomes nourish at the self destructive impulse of another's nature. She dines not on treachery of her own nature, but of the noble action of removing chaos and entropy, enthroning ethaply. She simply restores harmony and peace. Her nature is to end me, regardless of how I changed. She will be my last moment and I can not escape her for long.
I looked at her eyes, pleadingly. I need more time. I'm not ready yet. I'm not willing to end my moment without finishing my task. Not understanding that I still hold on tight and still want to taste what my end would be. That is would resolve itself better without my hand at play, as it always have done and does not need my interference at any level to return to homeostasis. Life will prosper and time will continue to move on without any accordance of mine.
Perhaps it was empathy in her eyes. Mayhaps I earned a stay for what I asked for or it was simply her knowledge that I will return once again with my own will and actions and that she never called me to her, but simply hold me close when I'm more than willing. Her arms never let go of me as they never really held on. I simply released my own hold and regain my coil once more even though I know it is not mine to keep.
I slowly awaken and felt the anguish and loss of her. I know this now as I write this. I wanted her back in my arms and I rue that I ever let her go. I rise to write and remember who she was and if I could ever find her again. Perhaps my dream was prophetic and not symbolic in any way. Perhaps I shall find her in my last steps. Perhaps I will remain haunted by her face and see her in the corner of my eye or in the closing elevator. Perhaps I .....
...perhaps I need to start my day.
Did I dream you dreamed about me?
Were you hare when I was fox?
Now my foolish boat is leaning
Broken lovelorn on your rocks
Were you hare when I was fox?
Now my foolish boat is leaning
Broken lovelorn on your rocks
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
The Hidden Battle For the Skies or How to Rule Others Before Lunch
I'm the first one to admit that my talents are worthless in this society.
In a world that must have a few parlor tricks under it sleeves that must be viral worthy and able to keep the long lost and much worshiped attention span, I do not register unless I make the moment happen rather than take advantage of the situation. Due to a moral choice I'd rather not use my abilities to take advantage of others through monetary means. Something about taking money for something so intimate would only make me feel a bit more whorish than most have already made me.
Was is the stripping at 24?
Nah.
And yet with Darling Violetta's A Smaller God, I can't help in remembering the few pieces of advice that The Old Man has given me on this very topic. It's funny how a showy presence always takes the eyes off the shadows and how the eye will always submit to the dazzle of nothing whist the invisible movement takes advantage of so much. Then again if you told people that Ninja were only hidden due to their social standing as peasants and servants instead of smoke and magic it kind of kills that wonder that lets us believe in God, Santa Clause and the Lotto. It's so handy to simply not share ones secrets yet I will as of now share three.
Body language will always reveal what the subconscious say. The leaning, the tone in voice, pupil size and the flush of skin can never be faked without some mastery. Learning how someone physically hold their burdens will reveal how much they carry the world and how they dread certain tasks. Understand how small time shysters fake charisma will always lead me to think that something is being sold that I do not need nor would hold dear. In understanding how small movements of the hand will always attract or distract the viewer one is able to capture the imagination as well as show lack of confidence in the orator and the point trying to prove.
In other words, I may listen to your words, but I always study how your lips move. Also great in reading if she's faking and if he ever cared.
Homework: Study how Selma Hyack floats into a room and actually distract the eyes from her cleavage with her lips. For advance students, study the Master's movement and discover why his very presence inspire lust among women and men especially in an advanced age. Don't know who the master is? Then you are not an advance student, silly creature.
The art of a Cunning Linguist in getting that O moment.
We marvel at the sight of abs on anyone and in truth it's a marvel. Those who have accomplished such a great physical feat are usually ones we would like to admire and lust after, yet in the mind of the more advanced mind we can find something lacking with the individual. Almost as if one is eating a rich pastery without the fervor and joy. We are lost in why we are not enjoying the magnificence of something that should be so inviting and so desired and yet we are left hollow and disappointed. Empty calories with unsatisfactory sense of guilt.
And yet we do not understand how those who can bend words to their will are usually the ones we admire most. Byron was considered the first Bad Boy and yet he was a write. Poets such as Keats and Shelly and the Bard knew how a well placed words would move any group to emotion and understanding. I'd would incluse singers, but they need the assistance of a band, a music writer, cooreographer and other light and magic officials to sell their wares. Want to impress me? Freestyle or acapella without movement. Sorry, auto tuner need not apply.
Orators such as Christopher Hitchens, George Carlin, and yes Adolf Hitler (no I'm not shitting you and don't you dare call me a fucking antisemite cause I'll beat you to an inch of your life!). These men for their purpose have learned the words flow and how thoughts may be introduced to a stone walled mind into understanding and even blindly following their sentiments. Hitchens convinced so many of use that God is not great but an immortal tyrant who does not care of you and is forcing a subject to forever devote their life into eternal praise as an unearthly North Korea. Carlin showed us how the great battle is not seen (see The conversation not had is always the most important for more understanding ) but is always masqueraded in religion, fear, commercialism, and a sheepish mind to shallow rather than chew what is given. Hitler convinced an entire nation through rally, spectacle, propaganda, and myth on how the Chosen ones were vanquished by a racial traitor that sold their future and rightful place at the head of progress. It cost the lives of millions of men, women and children and by far his use of rhetoric and verse I'd consider the most powerful since it let able minded human beings to give up their reasoning and to blindly embracethe will of one.
Can your abs do that?
I thought so.
Homework: Find one of these men and study, not listen, to the rhythm of their wording and choice of words. What calculated risks are they taking and at what point does someone swallow the hook and refuses to fight the reel? Advanced: Explain what mechanisms have others are able to avoid being captivated. What prevents them to listening? How is this possible and what other rhetoric have they already accepted.
It's good to stay Jung
Jung understood the power of dreams and they symbols of man. Now before you think I'm going to get all touchy feely and hippy with all this shit......we'll you're right, but not for the purpose to connect you with your guardian angel or Gia or even your spiritual dolphin or unicorn. My purpose here is to understand the purpose of early man's need to mark the walls of caves or need to express themselves in a manner that there are no words. It's used lifelessly that a picture is worth so many words and yet we lose ourselves to the deeper meaning for simple bobbles on the surface. True wealth is always rewarded to those who seek the depth of meaning rather than the superficial.
You see a tattoo on someone. Regardless of who, the meaning is always the same. From the early forms of blood magic that every culture has practiced to the shamanistic rituals of those closest to the earth, man has always attempted to augment ability and increase meaning to their existence through signs and symbols. The power of a upwards raised fist, a man leading the way north with a bundle holding mother and child at hand, skull and crossbones on cigarettes. these symbol hold different meaning from culture to culture and yet the differences are very close in origin. Dragons as evil or sacred protectors of wisdom? Is black or white the color of death? What is the difference in a pentagram and a six pointed star? Or seven? What meaning was held from the masses that betrayal would only be cleansed with the split blood of the betrayer? Are Angels glorious creatures or monsterous appendages of a vengeful God?
Understand the meaning of what you see or you will never see what is openly said for those with power to act on.
Homework: Any book on the early symbols of man. Please, nothing too New age or clickish to find your soul mate. Understand the primal meanings of symbols we use today and that magic is not dead. Advanced, study a subject, be it art, body work, or simply signs and siglu for meaning. Then ask someone without knowledge of their take of it. Understand the meaning.
I know you're asking why I would share this with you. Perhaps I simply can not stand ignorance of any kind. Perhaps I simply want the motives of those who move in shadow with me to be revealed for the benefit of man. Perhaps I want you to read into the deep meaning of what I say in order to see what I'm really saying. And perhaps I simply need to expand my influence in order to accomplish my own mean and methods.
Yes.
No.
Quien sabe?
Then again.....will you ever know?
In a world that must have a few parlor tricks under it sleeves that must be viral worthy and able to keep the long lost and much worshiped attention span, I do not register unless I make the moment happen rather than take advantage of the situation. Due to a moral choice I'd rather not use my abilities to take advantage of others through monetary means. Something about taking money for something so intimate would only make me feel a bit more whorish than most have already made me.
Was is the stripping at 24?
Nah.
And yet with Darling Violetta's A Smaller God, I can't help in remembering the few pieces of advice that The Old Man has given me on this very topic. It's funny how a showy presence always takes the eyes off the shadows and how the eye will always submit to the dazzle of nothing whist the invisible movement takes advantage of so much. Then again if you told people that Ninja were only hidden due to their social standing as peasants and servants instead of smoke and magic it kind of kills that wonder that lets us believe in God, Santa Clause and the Lotto. It's so handy to simply not share ones secrets yet I will as of now share three.
The conversation not had is always the most important.
There are many ways to say what you are thinking and yet only one way to say what you honestly mean. If you have difficulty understanding this I want you to imagine the human smile on someone who makes your heart melts. Those smiles are not only worth more than gold itself, but there is warmth and life in that smile that would make a boy a man. And yet, we know those who have plastic smiles. Smiles that from photo to photo masks emotion and make for a hilarious slide show.Body language will always reveal what the subconscious say. The leaning, the tone in voice, pupil size and the flush of skin can never be faked without some mastery. Learning how someone physically hold their burdens will reveal how much they carry the world and how they dread certain tasks. Understand how small time shysters fake charisma will always lead me to think that something is being sold that I do not need nor would hold dear. In understanding how small movements of the hand will always attract or distract the viewer one is able to capture the imagination as well as show lack of confidence in the orator and the point trying to prove.
In other words, I may listen to your words, but I always study how your lips move. Also great in reading if she's faking and if he ever cared.
Homework: Study how Selma Hyack floats into a room and actually distract the eyes from her cleavage with her lips. For advance students, study the Master's movement and discover why his very presence inspire lust among women and men especially in an advanced age. Don't know who the master is? Then you are not an advance student, silly creature.
The art of a Cunning Linguist in getting that O moment.
We marvel at the sight of abs on anyone and in truth it's a marvel. Those who have accomplished such a great physical feat are usually ones we would like to admire and lust after, yet in the mind of the more advanced mind we can find something lacking with the individual. Almost as if one is eating a rich pastery without the fervor and joy. We are lost in why we are not enjoying the magnificence of something that should be so inviting and so desired and yet we are left hollow and disappointed. Empty calories with unsatisfactory sense of guilt.
And yet we do not understand how those who can bend words to their will are usually the ones we admire most. Byron was considered the first Bad Boy and yet he was a write. Poets such as Keats and Shelly and the Bard knew how a well placed words would move any group to emotion and understanding. I'd would incluse singers, but they need the assistance of a band, a music writer, cooreographer and other light and magic officials to sell their wares. Want to impress me? Freestyle or acapella without movement. Sorry, auto tuner need not apply.
Orators such as Christopher Hitchens, George Carlin, and yes Adolf Hitler (no I'm not shitting you and don't you dare call me a fucking antisemite cause I'll beat you to an inch of your life!). These men for their purpose have learned the words flow and how thoughts may be introduced to a stone walled mind into understanding and even blindly following their sentiments. Hitchens convinced so many of use that God is not great but an immortal tyrant who does not care of you and is forcing a subject to forever devote their life into eternal praise as an unearthly North Korea. Carlin showed us how the great battle is not seen (see The conversation not had is always the most important for more understanding ) but is always masqueraded in religion, fear, commercialism, and a sheepish mind to shallow rather than chew what is given. Hitler convinced an entire nation through rally, spectacle, propaganda, and myth on how the Chosen ones were vanquished by a racial traitor that sold their future and rightful place at the head of progress. It cost the lives of millions of men, women and children and by far his use of rhetoric and verse I'd consider the most powerful since it let able minded human beings to give up their reasoning and to blindly embracethe will of one.
Can your abs do that?
I thought so.
Homework: Find one of these men and study, not listen, to the rhythm of their wording and choice of words. What calculated risks are they taking and at what point does someone swallow the hook and refuses to fight the reel? Advanced: Explain what mechanisms have others are able to avoid being captivated. What prevents them to listening? How is this possible and what other rhetoric have they already accepted.
It's good to stay Jung
Jung understood the power of dreams and they symbols of man. Now before you think I'm going to get all touchy feely and hippy with all this shit......we'll you're right, but not for the purpose to connect you with your guardian angel or Gia or even your spiritual dolphin or unicorn. My purpose here is to understand the purpose of early man's need to mark the walls of caves or need to express themselves in a manner that there are no words. It's used lifelessly that a picture is worth so many words and yet we lose ourselves to the deeper meaning for simple bobbles on the surface. True wealth is always rewarded to those who seek the depth of meaning rather than the superficial.
You see a tattoo on someone. Regardless of who, the meaning is always the same. From the early forms of blood magic that every culture has practiced to the shamanistic rituals of those closest to the earth, man has always attempted to augment ability and increase meaning to their existence through signs and symbols. The power of a upwards raised fist, a man leading the way north with a bundle holding mother and child at hand, skull and crossbones on cigarettes. these symbol hold different meaning from culture to culture and yet the differences are very close in origin. Dragons as evil or sacred protectors of wisdom? Is black or white the color of death? What is the difference in a pentagram and a six pointed star? Or seven? What meaning was held from the masses that betrayal would only be cleansed with the split blood of the betrayer? Are Angels glorious creatures or monsterous appendages of a vengeful God?
Understand the meaning of what you see or you will never see what is openly said for those with power to act on.
Homework: Any book on the early symbols of man. Please, nothing too New age or clickish to find your soul mate. Understand the primal meanings of symbols we use today and that magic is not dead. Advanced, study a subject, be it art, body work, or simply signs and siglu for meaning. Then ask someone without knowledge of their take of it. Understand the meaning.
I know you're asking why I would share this with you. Perhaps I simply can not stand ignorance of any kind. Perhaps I simply want the motives of those who move in shadow with me to be revealed for the benefit of man. Perhaps I want you to read into the deep meaning of what I say in order to see what I'm really saying. And perhaps I simply need to expand my influence in order to accomplish my own mean and methods.
Yes.
No.
Quien sabe?
Then again.....will you ever know?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
