For Now

It's been very, super-very long since I last posted.

I've been working like the devil without a clue. A man without a mission. A hitchhiker with no where to go. I've been feeling like this for a gosh darn long time, almost like a light switch where some days I'm off (no idea, just going with the flow), and others days on (very brief moments of clarity where loss and semi-depression settles from lack of light).  

side note: I'm leaving my work for a time: Back injury and surgery.

Oh the trails of being a mere human and not a super hero with infinite capabilities. Than again, who wants all that responsibility? Not me.  

So what will I do in these months of recovery and forced relaxation...

Write.

Something completely new. Like, a timeline of a person's life...must not give too much away. I want it to be brutal, gritty, honest, forgiving, painful, artful, and beautiful. Also laden with dark humor.

That's the plan, for now.

Time flashes by, feels like I blinked twice and it's October. Time flashes fast yet feels slow at the same time. I think the last time I posted might be a few weeks before I went to L.A. Los Angeles was great, I went there only to visit family. They're all doing well, that's as much as I can share. I love them so much, and they all live so far away. I would love to see them as much as I can. 

I stayed in KTown, went to this Starbucks on Pico and Rimpau every morning for coffee and to write. I felt human again (what was I before), like pieces of my old self that I had completely forgotten about stared to cling back to me. It made me sad yet joyful.

I more or less still feel sad'ish these days. I know why in a few definites, but then I'm numb or lost in others thoughts. This fog will soon lift, I hope.

I was speaking with someone from my writing group yesterday about how being a creative person is hard. She agrees. There's never a true fit for us, unless surrounded by other creative types doing what you love, but that's never easy to find. Like, find and be paid.

Can't fake it for too long. I think the more you fake, the more of yourself gets lost. But this making money thing...kills everything. It truly is dirty. We need it to survive: eat, sleep, procreate. But then the thought of no money, paper money, a tangible currency... that's way more terrifying.

Sorry, went off track a bit.

Lift fog, lift.

Killer Time

Is it possible to get so busy that Time becomes nothing? "Nothing" to the point that you can't address it, look at it, schedule it, or think of it?

TIME has been killing me lately. A fully self-aware choke hold, it took me down. Work took me down. And in the next few months I'm afraid (not even gonna think it) TIME could become more of a ghost.

When I tell people what I do for paying the bills, it sounds interesting, kinda fun. The brands I work with are "cool". Too bad it wasn't bands, like an awesome rock band. Like Jack White or something. Go on our with Jack White and be a apart of his wardrobe team. I have no issue with shining shoes. Yeah, but my real job... it is the equivalent of shining shoes, accompanied by a revolving door of verbal interruptions, lifting heavy things, and taking glamour shots of clothes.

And as Time has been bullying me, pushing me around, causing me to go through mini rambling fits; like, have you ever done that... rambled a mini rant to yourself, just to get the crap out of your head? I do it often. I sometimes have to look around, totally forgetting I'm in public view. A true Blue Jasmine moment. The stress of TIME can feel crushing.

Solution...

A plane ride away, somewhere, somewhere far away. Where nothing 'here' exists over there. I haven't had a vacay in years.  

And I am going someplace, far, but not too far away. I don't have any expectations other than for my eyes to see something new, to hug and hold family, write in a coffee shop (zero time to do it here, at home), and see what God has in mind. I like surprises, especially the good kind.

I need to laugh, like a lot. I do, here, kinda, pending the company around me. Some people are hard to laugh with. Just too serious. See, I think Seriousity (let's pretend it's a word) killed the cat. Curiosity is awesome. It's nice when someone is curious about your life, that is within healthy boundaries. Like, just recently, this beanstalk of a young bird, very cute, but he was just too up close and personal.

I'm just days away. Days away from take off.

Circles Fit Where?

I need a getaway. To run away from the drab. Forget the everyday.

I want some quiet with an ocean view. A pad of paper and endless ink.

My breaking point is drawing near. A few steps behind reason. Miles apart from patience.

Do you ever have days like this? Where everything seems kinda wrong. Like somewhere down the gravel path you made a terribly wrong turn. Rear tire spinning, stuck in a ditch.

I've felt like this for far too long. Head butting against an invisible wall.

All I can do is search for things to laugh about in the meantime. Laugh with co-workers, strangers and friends. We all share similar bewilderments.

You see, when you're a kid, no one ever tells you how sucky life will be. Adults lie to children from the getgo. Reading them endless fairy tales. And it's easy to buy into. Like, what do you know - you're just a kid.

I'm starting to see it more. A tinge of pain in the eyes of many. The loss of dreams, the endless want and climb for what fairy tales once promised to an innocent heart.

But how long can a heart hold on?

My dear friends wonder, looking above to a vast, endless sky. Their heart still searching for another to hold, or for the right line of work to finally come along.

"I give up..." they turn away, unable to face everything.

I hear this too often. I sympathize. I can be there in a heartbeat. 

In all truths, curiosity didn't kill the cat. Creativity did. Most, if not all of my friends are creative people. All Circles. No Squares.

I will break away in July. Hopefully.

Tick Tock

My space is a mess. Absolute chaos. My mind is not so much a mess.

I tidy what people mess. I build and construct. More to mess.

My mind wanders, hands working on auto-pilot. Voices speak. "Mmm?' I answer, on auto-pilot.

"I'm not who you're looking for."

I prayed today. I pray everyday. Mostly for myself. And for others when I remember. Lists help to avoid this selfishness.

The sun feels nice. It changes everything. Lifts everything. The cold concrete not so gray.

My friend is visiting in September (she wrote me). Always September. We're alike in many ways.

I hope to travel, but this world is ugly. Ugly people wander about doing horrible ugly things to fellow humans. The blood of the innocent cries out.

Non-humans belong in zoos. Animals don't belong in zoos.

My friend's birthday is in 5 days. Mine isn't too far after. Multi-minutes gone.

Tick tock.

Sleep is only for bedtime

No one's truly lucky in this one-life challenge.

What looks great, perfect and envied from one gaze can be the complete opposite of what is true. Assumptions dare the imagination. Perception is vague. Truth seldom trumps.

Am I getting too dark? Or too honest. Honesty is, at times, darkly perceived. Some people call me an idealist, but I consider myself a hard realist. 

I feel a bit lost these days, working in an insanely unsatisfying environment. Pulled by needs and a desperate lack of time. Age constantly creeps, without retreat, reminding me while in my misery that I'm so far from where I'd like to be, and there are some days, some moments, I don't even know where I want to be.

Thankfully I do have one constant: God. That'll never change.

But this world is... changing fast. See, beneath the thin sleepy veneer, distracted by subhuman television, really bad music, and really really bad fashion, a divisive goal is underway. Few are aware of this unforgiveable plan, many don't want to hear of it (as if it will go away), and most have no clue. Knowing isn't easy. Knowing just keeps you very sober.

If you've never heard of transhumanism, look it up. If you don't know what an rfid chip is. Also look it up. It'll sounds like fantasy, like a summer Hollywood Blockbuster. Fiction. But it's far from, and that's the unforgivable truth.

I tweeted a response to something a while back (the tweet actually disappeared - funny). Something like, "transhumanism is the death of conscience humanity and morality". Which it is. It's freaking crazy. And the rfid chip, just the same but more frightening: easily tracked, funds easily drained (not by you), freedom - (unplug you) Over. Don't be sold by the commercials where people are freely giving their freedom away, looking happy and shit. Cause it's just crap wrapped in pretty paper with pretty people selling you a life term prison sentence.

Easily hunted. Easily programmed. No escape.

If you are, don't roll your eyes (if you are). Just take some time to look it up. I've been wanting to write about this for a while. Share with the few that read my blog. Even though I don't know you, I care about you, and I especially care about what's left of this floating rock.


Never lose your freedom to speak. Never be afraid to ask questions. The truth is often buried beneath a stack of lies. But also, the truth is very simple.

Round Up

It's been long since I posted. Been inhumanly busy, a freak schedule, running my energy to the ground, and none of it for selfish gain. Sure I pocketed some green, but I lost time, a season of life - gone. Made a friend, then let the friendship go cause everything at one point must die.

For a while I've been running on a different track, searching, finding, hiding, questioning and getting angry with every dang turn. The world is a vast wilderness and I'm itsy bitsy, and thus feel lost but not on this deranged trail called 'your every waking existence' till you just don't wake up.

side note: It's truly a killer disappointment when someone you thought was cool turns out to be sooo not. I like people who are different, have quirks and their own rhythm and beat, but crazy-volcanic, uber-sensitive, uber-paranoid - yeah, this will never be my cup of tea. Ever.

Some people hide their demons well. But eventually they surface.

Better to laugh than cry, I always say.

Then there's this lost love thing. When you decide to let someone go. From every spatial corner of your utter being. That always sucks. When there's no one to even daydream about. Am I growing up or have I lost heart? I asked a friend. Actually commented that,
"getting older sucks". She laughed. Agrees. She's in her 50s but looks and acts like she's in her 30s. I love people who never give into societal standards. She also has the most wicked name, which I cannot reveal. There's probably only 2 people in the whole world that have it.

But I have to get back to me. Chuck some bullshit out of the way. Shoulda done it before the year started. Don't think too far ahead. Buy some pretty clothes. Dye my hair (tomorrow), and bake for my friends, and my neighbour.

I have a possible chance to visit Cali... It's on the shelf. I have an uncle who needs some prayer. I'd like to pray for him.

At least men in Cali approach women, unlike men in my city. My Cali cousins don't believe this truth. One asshole asked if my friends were ugly and fat (meaning why men never approach them), he's from Spain. I appreciate his bluntness. His bluntness suggests that he does approach women (which he does), or that he's just a douche. But he did also wonder why I'm still single/why men don't approach me. Correction. Why potential men don't approach me. Unlike the sweet but young 20 somethings, polyamorous charmers, chatty pervs, men looking for their mother, control stalking oafs and slick players.

And my friends are all very attractive. They just don't settle.

And for the longest time I've been adapting my novel into a script. It's taking some time. Hard to make time when I'm working 10 hours a day. Will try in March.

Aside from the above...I'm trying to see the light. Trying. Clicking on cute cat and dog videos, uplifting stories about people being kind, and trying new baking recipes. Cause aside from the crap and lies on the regular news feed, this vast world is getting increasingly small and our freedom stripped.

So many are still asleep. Occupied by bad television, OkStupid and tinder.

I may need to visit Cali after all. At least to tell my armfuls of family, " I love you".

Big Ugly Perp

Life is this thing we live everyday. We feel/think things moment by moment. Some people think hundreds of thoughts in a given hour, which can easily kill sleep and peace. Others, like myself, have the ability to shut everything off at will. A willfull tune out...

Snap. Lights out...yeah, it's almost never that easy.

We're living, breathing, 24/7 operating sponges. The battery never goes out, unless we go out. Lights off - forever - at least on this horizontal plain.

I was watching something recently that hurt my eyes (lots of things hurt my eyes). Familiar images we see everyday, whether on tv, in print or on screen with mammoth surround sound.

This image in particular rattled me. Picture it:

A stage is set, sparkly, twinkly, almost showy. Spotlight ready on command, judges take the first row. As the roar of the music soars, a line of girls hit the dance floor, dressed in barely there spandex and lace, face full of makeup, lip gloss - cherry red. Eyes dead-set, hooked on you, they dance, strutting, humping the air.

Did I mention these are 5-7 year old girls. 

Just when did this madness begin? Whether 5 - 15 - 25 - 35. Is it okay to see her this way? Should we sound the alarm? There should be no harm...right? 

Not at first sight.

It's very normal to see a scantily dressed female. We see her this way everyday in print, on commercials, in music videos and on film. She's the talented starlet on a glossy magazine, you just watched her in that film on the weekend, the movie grossed 110 million, but there she is, barely covered in boxer briefs, a man's shirt tied provocatively, giving you "make love to the camera" eyes. She's also running across the beach in a skimpy bikini, holding hands with a fully dressed man, showing you what a vacation should be. She's in numerous music videos, almost naked, surrounded by impeccably, fully, dressed men, there to be "whatever or wherever" your imagination travels.

And she's again, on stage, just 6 years old. There to feed whom? What 6 year old is able to comprehend the situation at large. But perhaps it starts then. The conditioning, for all sexes.

Or have we as a culture come to a place where such sights and images blur into our reality or normalcy. Where a nude female, at whatever age, is nothing but "whatever".

Will this cycle of violence ever stop?

And it is violent. Not the way war is violent, but violent in a manner that is silent and multi-generational. A slow rape of morality and purity, for both women and men. Purity is an often misused word. It has less to do with sex and more to do with action and thought.

Everyone wants to be treated well, fairly and with respect. Only when motives are pure can that be the result. If we only consider "our own end" then motivation becomes impure. Respect and fairness hit the skids.

In regards to women, and men, the unseen/unspoken world of equally violated men and boys, how does one fix this...

Is it about power? Who cooks the books? Decides and approves the print, commercials, videos and film that will delights our senses? Images that continue to teach us what is "natural". But then again, that is an entirely different rabbit hole. Kinda.

The failure to see people, all people, as Human: living-breathing-feeling, having been born from the whom, with a soul and conscience, sharing and experiencing all the pain and joy life can bring will always escape the mind of a perpetrator.

An innocent infant/child, a teenage girl/boy, a young woman/man, a mature woman/man, your grandmother/father. There are no lines drawn in the sand when it comes to valuing human life: emotional, physical, mental, spiritual.   

When you assault (rape, steal, kill) without consent, you are a perpetrator. Silence, getting into someone's car or stepping into someone's home does not signify agreement. There's no rationalizing. If your motives are impure, only to self-gratify at whatever expense, you're a Big Ugly Perp.

And titles mean nothing: Frat boy. Preacher. Teacher. Hollywood Elite. World Elite. Political Elite. Mom. Dad. Grandpa/ma. Sister. Brother. The list is endless. If you've taken to gratify your physical needs - You A Big Ugly Perp.

And if you are a BUP, and you believe no one is watching...

Someone is always watching.   

Someone already knows.

And that Picture it image of the strutting six year old girls? Replace them with 6 year old boys, dressed in speedos, dancing like Chippendale dancers. How natural is that? 

Beyond ur Sight

The world scurries. Time flies for the young and old. As if on a battleground, time feels like an opposing force, bent on a mission to end the race of all races.

Time.

I was speaking with a colleague about 'time' and how it feels out of rhythm. As if the clocks are working overtime. Minutes rocket like seconds. Hours drain like minutes.

Do you notice that?

What's going on up there? What's going on everywhere?

It's easy to just sit back, relax and drink what's handed to you. It takes more effort to ask, "what's in it?". Stare into the glass long enough to see gray drink begin to change colour. I hope you're staring long enough, asking enough to see more than what's there.

Dropping crude doesn't mean "road trip". More is at hand. Dubious more.

Military vehicles on neighbourhood streets. Military. Where did they suddenly come from? And why are military vehicles being carted on highways and byways, the lone trucker wonders while trying earn an honest living.

What could be up ahead that is beyond our sightline?

It's not just time. It's not just incurable diseases that people seem to be suddenly cured from. It's the unspoken. The hush we're all too familiar with. 

Sure, I've said little white lies here and there. Nothing major. Just words that involve my tiny fishbowl. "Do you think I'm vain?" a friend will ask. I could be thinking "yes, but I like you anyway" but I'll smile and say something like, "You just care about what you want, and that's okay." I'm not lying, I'm rephrasing what they already know.

I can be totally honest with my sister. But we're that type of family. Brute honesty. We laugh about it.

But the ruling jellyfish tries to push, shove and mold this world into something they can control and liquidate - they're messing with a much larger fishbowl, a world bowl. And we have every right to bite back. They're the minority. 

Even the church. It's not just about feelin' good and gettin' favor. You're so off the rails.

I'll try not to be too serious in my next write up. I'm just unclogging my brain.

http://youtu.be/-ALRLZQf42s

nite

Fucking Lost

I've been away for a while. Fucking lost, blind, walking in a blackened room with arms stretched out, feeling my way through the dark. It sucks to be in this place and not even realize you're there.

side note: a friend came into town for work, a yearly Festival that bombards my city with glitz and flashbulbs, that's where we met. she's such a good person and I miss her terribly. maybe I'll visit her in Paris next year.

Back to being lost. Fucking lost. So lost, parts of me vanished, the good parts, the parts that made me sane. And like a squirrel I'm quietly searching for parts of myself that I buried all throughout this year.

Not all of me is gone. Thankfully.

I'll share what this "lost" thing is...perhaps. Later.

I've recently entered a new land. One where a multitude of colours rain down from the ceiling. Scents spout from every nook and cranny as people scurry about in uniform dress, prettying what is naturally beautiful and enhancing all that is hidden. And in the last few days we've been flooded with green. Lots of it. 

I often feel lost in this land, though the natives are sweet and welcoming. But I must leave. I'm dying and drowning in this beautiful land, and it's my own hand that will rescue me.

1am and my eyelids are about to drop. I'll hit the sheets in twenty.

another side note: have you ever gotten this strange feeling that your friend likes you more than a friend, and that friend is a she? this is for all the women reading. ...yeah, I'm going through that... strange feeling. I like men. I can easily appreciate a woman's beauty, but that's it. Time will unfold more details.

Now there's another Lost something. Love. Been fucking lost for a long time.

Will stop saying/writing F*** for tonight.

Not So Nice

What can I say...

I'm a nice person. Mind you, I can get ugly when I know someone is taking advantage of me or my friends, but pending the situation - the vulnerability of the other party, timing and just my emotional strength at the time, and equal level of intelligence - I will let a lot go.

Nice doesn't mean weak or stupid, innocent or inexperience. Most of the time when people do un-nice things, instead of claw or stab back, I let it slide.

But nice stinks. It stinks to be nice. To let it slide. To turn the other cheek. But the alternative is too easy, and it's a road taken by many. The high road is a hard-ass climb. The not tearing down, loose lips and chainsaw words to rip through reputations and names does take a willingness to step back and look at the larger picture.

We're all human. Built with memories, experiences, feelings, hurts and all that other awesome stuff that tends to surface and pile up on stressful days, lonely days and shitty days.

The only instance I'm un-nice is when someone is consistently getting away with bad behavior without any consideration to change.

example: taking advantage of a woman without a hint of backing down. Whether verbal, physical or with a long lecherous gaze. Whether towards my friends or myself, I will be un-nice about it. I will let you know it is wrong and not feel any guilt in doing so. Because I know, many "nice" women before me have let you get away with it.

Nice isn't such a nice word, from my experience. Perhaps it's because the word itself is too vague. Used too simplistically: Nice flowers, nice dress, nice smile, nice guy.

Instead of: Gorgeous Flowers. Knock-out Dress. Killer Smile. Awesome Guy.

The difference is huge.

Websters definition of Nice: giving pleasure or joy : good and enjoyable: attractive or of good quality: kind, polite, friendly.

It's not what we think of when we hear the word NICE. Or at least not all of it at once.

But it's in me, tragically, to be a few of those examples of nice. F**king boring, but true.

It's the nice in me that helps people with baby strollers and heavy items down the stairs. It's the nice in me that looks out for peers so they don't get reamed by the boss. It's the nice in me that always gives up my seat to someone who looks more exhausted than I do, even though I'm really exhausted. And it's the nice in me that will always forgive, except if you're an abusive ass-hole.

Sadly, we've become a micro-tiny, interactive world where so many are not nice. Cause that would be boring. Nice is unfashionable and uncool. Though we would all like to be treated with niceness. It does make us smile, doesn't it. When someone does a nice gesture, however small: opens the door cause your hands are full with breakfast and a coffee. Holds the bus cause they see you running for it. Gives you change when you're 50 cents short.

I hope those small tokens of nice never go away.