יְהוֹשֻׁעַ‎‎ Grant विष्णु

Noting the effects.

2012-01-28T20:00:00.000-08:00

Life feels novel and new again.

I'm cold, it's winter, that's natural. Not natural for me, I usually run like a space-heater.

I'm being reckless, taking chances.

Visual patterns emerge like divine mathematics.

My hands take on an extra layer of profundity and navigate my IRL FPS

I have incredible friends. I'm incredibly grateful.

Berserk - The Becoming [NIN] AMV

2012-01-02T21:42:00.000-08:00

27 and 2012

2012-01-01T17:07:00.000-08:00

I've been dreading this blog entry for close to a decade.

I knew it would one day come.

It's hard to believe it's finally here.

The beginning of what could very well be my last year on this earth.

1.1.2012

The first day of 2012. The first day of a new year.

I am 27, and it's 2012. OFFICIALLY. No take-backsies. For realsies.

When I was in my late teens, I prophesied my own death. Not in the serious manner that statement suggests, but in a far more serendipitous revelation that sent me down a spiral of mania culminating in my early 20s.

You ever ask yourself a question inside your head and then get a knee-jerk response from a "voice" within? The voice just being your inner thought, not a perceived separate entity.

You know, something like, what do I want to eat right now? And the next thought you have/hear is omelette with mushrooms, peppers and bacon.

Well, one day, in my youth, I randomly thought to myself "When will I die?" 27.

27.

Quick and unwavering. Knee-jerk. Instantaneous. 27, was the answer. "Well that's kinda freaky/unsettling..." I thought, followed by thinking, "Wonder how?" Car accident.

Car accident. The very next discernible bit of data was "car accident". No other possibilities listed. No lilting unsure tone. Smooth, definitive delivery. Car accident.

The damage done, I sat and thought and largely have done so ever since. I even used to have a countdown on a dry erase board much to the behest of a former flame.

That experience in and of itself is scary and threatens one with what I would categorize as "unhealthy" thoughts.

Couple that with the following information and learning it all for the first time en masse thanks to the internet and a voracious curiosity that has fueled me (and possibly defined my character) my entire life and you practically have a recipe for psychosis.

In an order that I don't care to remember I learned of 2012, and its significance to the Mayans, my best friend's self-predicted age of death (30, what he would be in 2012), The Age Of Aquarius, and the 27 Club.
Maya and 2012 - 13th b'ak'tun - End of the calendar. Misinterpreted as Armageddon. Meant to be taken as The End Of Time. A Mass Spiritual Awakening.
Age Of Aquarius - We're moving from the Age Of Pisces wherein we are the "fish" in "water". Human in life. Immersed in it. Powerless to affect its ebb and flow. In the Age Of Aquarius, we'll be the water-bearers. The Water won't control us or our lives, we'll control it.
27 Club - Many famous musicians and performers have signed off at this age and I fit right in with them. Eerily well.

In my early 20s I was dating a delightfully intelligent young asian girl. (I love asian girls.) She was South Korean (I love Japanese and South Korean girls) and quick as a whip. Her beautiful outside shell was merely icing on the cake compared the gorgeous brain/intellect she housed within. Her personality and wit pulled on me like a black hole and her ethnicity/beauty communicated The Fates were at work. They sealed the deal. It seemed "too good to be true". (It was.)

In certain ways, she enabled me. Unfortunately an intellect like mine is hard to contend with when it's set its sights on a goal.

My name is Joshua, I desire to help everyone, I get along with pretty much everyone I meet, remarkably wise despite my youth, surprisingly heartfelt compared to my pervasive silliness, a naturalist concerned with whole foods and sustainability, a fierce thinker with deep interest in The Eastern Ways, a psychonaut pioneering the farthest reaches of my mind with the aid of entheogens, I was born on Christmas Eve, I'm white, I have/enjoy beards, I don't wear shoes... She, I, and many others had all been led to the same conclusion: I was the Second Coming Of Christ.

Having one person tell you they think you might be Jesus after you've lightly theorized this independently is surreal and disconcerting. Having several people do this, several times a day, without provocation is a great way to schism from reality entirely.

I've always prided myself on Observing The Observer and Breaking The Fourth Wall, so after some pensive introspection and careful analysis of my overall character and past experiences, a new more terrifying theory surfaced: I was the Anti-Christ. Nowhere in the bible does it say that the Anti-Christ, WILLINGLY, MALEVOLENTLY brings about the end of mankind. It says simply that he will unite them and ultimately lead to their downfall. It seemed perfectly reasonable to me then that he may accomplish this without setting out to do so. What if he made an invention, or gave a speech, or something that led to everyone being connected and then once THAT occurred the new Collective fucked things up on its own? This quickly became incorporated into Theory 3.0: I, Josh Vish, am both the Second Coming Of The Christ and The Anti-Christ. It stood to reason that with my innate charisma and intelligence and my burning desire to connect with the entire planet that I could totally be responsible for uniting everyone. And even though it was in the name of Love, some sort of a horrible perversion of my ideals might occur leading to cataclysm.

I'd pretty much resolved myself to loserhood/obscurity. For the sake of the planet.

Then I came to realize that a good deed is a good deed is a good deed. Like the woman that dumped expensive amounts of anointing oil on Jesus. The people around said "Hey! She coulda sold that and bought food for kids or something!" "Yeah!" "Yeah!" They all said and all patted each other on the back. "She wasn't thinking right! She didn't do THE MOST good she could do!" And Jesus shut dem bitches up with, "She did was she thought was good, and that is enough."

BOOM.

That it came from her heart and was genuinely altruistic is what exonerates her of folly.

Here's this suave motherfucker, strollin' from town to town, wearin' sandals, havin' a beard, spittin' wisdom, healin' niggas, preachin', just bein' an all around badass and now he's in YOUR town. Show your appreciation/reverence. GO! And the first thing she could think of was to douse his ass in Anointing Oil. Good enough, the J Man said. Appreciated.

*Side note, Anointing Oil was made from Cannabis...

If you bought someone a pizza and then when they got home they were too full to eat the surprise steak someone else had prepared for them, are you a bad person because you indirectly contributed to them missing out on steak? Fuck no. Easy answer.

Shit. YOU DICK. How dare you buy me pizza?!?! What a thoughtless asshole! Did you ever think that maybe steak was waiting for me?! You're evil. This confirms it.

NO.

So why should I feel bad if my efforts to Unite The Planet In Harmony end with Apocalypse?

I won't.

I've since matured, and integrated my thoughts and experience into a pretty stable worldview.

I'm not Jesus. I'm not the Anti-Christ. I'm Josh Vish. Not-Quite-Jesus. Jesus-like, but not actually Jesus.

I've talked before about my belief in what is essentially a more positive slant on Solipsism. I believe I am talking to myself right now. I believe we (as in not just humans, but EVERYTHING) are all one "thing" (call it God, if you want, I do) that willfully split into all these separate parts for the sole purpose of fun. Yes, you read it, my model of spirituality, philosophy, science and religion is the Cosmos is the answer to Cosmic Boredom. Divine Bordeom. We Weren't and Now We Are. Simple as that. Time is a perception, not an absolute value and all things exist HERE, NOW. They just aren't available to humans and our limited perception. WHICH IS OKAY. THAT'S THE POINT. These meatsuits are blinders from infinity.

America, cheeseburgers, facebook, alcohol. It's all okay.

Anyhoo, while I no longer believe myself to be The Second Coming/The Anti-Christ, I still sometimes fear it. I have big plans to put into place this year and I'd be lying if I didn't profess being motivated by fear. Fear of Mortality and fear of The Unknown. I've never been one to be controlled by my fear, but fear is a tricky thing. On the physical plane, if something creates terror in me, I sprint at it. Literally. However in the intangible realm of thought and possibility it's not always so easy to choose your target.

I love movies. I love everything about them. I love stories, I love symbolism, I love photography, color, kinetics, dialogue, language, art, music, etc. And I especially love movies' ability to transcend time and space. To alleviate barriers and blur boundaries. Cinema unites us like nothing else can. Well, except maybe the Internet, but still. MILLIONS of people watch a single film and BAM! just like that, it's ingrained in the collective. Unconscious AND conscious. Like orators, books and comics before it, movies are the most successful expression of communicating to everyone at once.

For a long time now I've wanted to be a part of movies, and even have. I want even more involvement. I want it to be how I pay rent and afford food. (I AM HUNGRY.)

So in 2012, I will continue down that path, Acting, Writing, Directing, Filmmaking, and if my predictions are correct, as I gain more and more notoriety, and more influence, I'll be poised to spark ACTUAL change on this planet. Whether with my voice or a film or a book, etc.

So far, the only direct attempt at omnipresence that I'm endeavoring upon is a simple birthday wish. I'm going to make it a facebook event and everything. (That's how you know its SERIOUS BUSINESS.)

This year, for my 28th birthday and last day of being 27, 12.24.2012, I would like for EVERYONE, literally every single human being on the planet capable of thought, to stop and think and focus on LOVE. Oh and making the summer in Pittsburgh a little longer and the winter a little shorter. That last part is a selfish desire though.

So that means that at one point in time, the entire planet's population of humans will be united in an activity AND thinking of me. POWERFUL STUFF. I get my Ego stroked AND help the planet. WIN/WIN. And then, from there, if my fame dwindles to niche crowds instead of the entire planet, so be it. I will've accomplished my goal.

Hopefully 2013 will consist of spending time in Japan while continuing to make movies, smoke cannabis and lift weights.

I'm going to attempt to get to Japan in 2012 as well, but it will be from more of a tourist standpoint with the end goal of Uniting The Planet in mind. Afterward, in 2013, my time in Japan will focus SOLEY on Japan.

If I'm still alive and we're still here, in 2013 I'd like to be:
making movies for a living
lifting weights regularly
swimming routinely
practicing yoga
smoking cannabis whenever it tickles my fancy
furthering my research on entheogens
living in Japan for indefinite periods of time
on my way to connecting with my future wife
eating flesh and fresh fruits and vegetables every single day

Beyond 2013 -
Wife and kids.
Living in Japan and Western PA.
Making movies.
Doing standup.
Working out regularly.
Drawing.
Writing.
Experimenting with Farming.
Hunting.
Owning Land.

I have lots of goals and am fervently in love with the leapfrog pace of obtaining them and setting new ones. This is guaranteed to be a great year for me.

One last stitch of anxiety I'd like to address. The focus on my own mortality that 27 and 2012 have brought does not overwhelm me in the ways you might think it does. I don't care about death. I don't care about dying. It's no big deal. I'm not afraid of it. What I am afraid of is: not living. I'm afraid of not accomplishing all I want to, before dying. Even then, that's not really a concern.

Truthfully, the most unsettling anxiety this age and year have brought me is a very stereotypically human one: my parents mortality.

All this focus on death has brought an unsettling amount of consideration to the question of when will my parents die. I am terrified of losing either of them. As Buddhist as I am about my own death and the fate of the entire planet, I cannot shake the very present, very powerful fear of losing my parents.

It was the thorn in my lion's paw after conquering my thoughts on my personal mortality. I've decided that I want to live indefinitely. Not Immortal per se, just continuing as long as I wish. And as this is my wish and I've set my intent on it, I will have it. That's how things work here. Intent>Action>;Reality BUT, I cannot control how my parents think/feel. Nor would I want to. Neither of them would accept life extension, I'm sure. I'm in fact sure they are just as okay with their eventual end as I am. Yet, I am not okay with theirs.

Maybe that's another not as concrete goal for 2012 and hopefully 2013?

I keep thinking that if I get rich enough, soon enough, that I can retire my parents and learn everything about them I want to know, so that when the end is near I'll be more comfortable with it. As it stands however, I want more time. I miss them.

I also hope to be institutional in bringing about Mind-Uploading and Prosthetic Bodies. Those are certainly beyond 2013 endeavors. They're going to take time. Even if they were here, now, I just don't see my parents being keen on participating.

I've learned to move past fears of my own mortality and those of my parents and the planet with the simple realization that everything is as it should be. If I don't ride around in cars all this year for fear of dying, how would I feel if on 12.24.2012 a car "randomly" fell out of the sky and killed me anyway? Pretty stupid. As it stands I'm going to die one day, in fact all of us are, but I'm not going to let that dominate my actions and enjoyment in the here and now. I'm not going to be careless or reckless or do anything to hasten its arrival but I'm also not going to diminish my quality of life with unnecessary precaution.

2012 is going to be my year. 2012: The Year Of Josh Vish.

It's either going to be my and/or our last year and thus I'll/we'll go out with a bang, or it's going to be a fierce start to whole new lifestyle. The initial explosion that sends the rocket hurtling upward into space.

Either way, it's guaranteed to be awesome.

Hello 2012, I've been waiting for you. For a long time.

My goal, for 2012 and the rest of my life: To realign mankind with the harmony of nature.

Barefoot in The City

2011-11-09T23:40:00.000-08:00

I slept all day today. ALL day. From like 10:30AM to 11:35PM.

During this sleep I had some of the most intense partially lucid dreams/nightmares I've ever had. Which has been a steadily increasing trend as of late. Each batch is more fierce than the last. During the peak of my lucidity in the dreams the most prevalent thoughts are a combination of, "This cannot be happening." and, "There is no way this is being generated purely by my brain/mind." A form of doubt comes into play. My keen sense of observation and constant watch on myself even extends to the unconscious realm and while there, I cannot, for the life of me, make a decision as to "where" dreams come from. I can only recall snippets now. They are over-saturated, brightly-colored, hyper-kinetic flashes of frenzied activity. Very reminiscent of my DMT trip and prior experience with psychedelics. From the height of my enhanced awareness, I remember being plainly impressed with the amount of detail and clarity in the sights I was seeing. A thought crossed over with me. One that has done so many times before. -- Either dreams come from "somewhere" "out there" or I am in possession of one of the most impressive brains to have ever existed. Possibly THE most. Thanks to my psychedelic training I'm able to recognize subtle differences between "reality" and non-reality. A big portion of what clued me in today was the sense/feeling of the dream being more "real" than reality. Something that greatly hearkens back to DMT. It felt almost like a superreality, a more pure form of the existence we all experience daily. 1080p HD compared to old silent films. Anime to children's drawings.

I've always had an incredible ability to recall with frighteningly accurate clarity the detail of my dreams and it is with the utmost confidence of a scientist steeped in years of intel and research that I can proffer: my dreams were not like this growing up. Something has changed. Perhaps is changing. Maybe doing DMT opened some sort of floodgate, maybe our proximity to 11.11.11 11:11 and 2012 is affecting ALL of reality. Maybe approaching my own personal deadline of 27 is a factor. Perhaps it is all or none of these things. Truth is, I do not know. There is also the factor of you. I have not met you yet, but we're due to meet soon. Time for you only moves forward, but for me I can already feel the ripples of a "coming" event. Too many variables to form a valid hypothesis at this time.

What I do know is that I feel like a teenager again. Unsure. Questioning the validity of the world around me. I have not abandoned the teachings of my training and as such have not lost the feeling of serenity I've fought so hard to earn, and yet still I can watch myself thinking these thoughts and feeling these feelings and my assessment is: huh, this again.

When I was an actual chronological teenager I'd received a slow trickle of media that allowed me to eventually break my own fourth wall. Well before the reality-bending of The Matrix, Dark City and Vanilla Sky there was The Maxx. An animated series on MTV's Liquid Television that, frankly, probably should not have been watched by my young developing mind. The series followed the adventures (and misadventures) of the titular character The Maxx.

A man that sat on the fence between reality and dreams. A very poignant expression of life imitating art in what I have become in my summer years. In reality Maxx is a bum, living in a cardboard box and semi-dependent on a social worker named Julie. In The Outback (the series' name for the Dream Realm) The Maxx is a wild superhero that often protects the alternate version of Julie known as The Jungle Queen. The symmetry between this and my two most recent relationships is not lost on me. The overall thought/feeling I took away from the show at that age, and that has continued into adulthood but since withered, is: the inability to differentiate between what's real and what isn't. Does one assign loyalty to the "real world" or The Outback? Teen years are difficult for all of us and I was no exception. The Maxx came to me at the exact moment I was beginning to call everything into question. Looking back, it's easy to see that it catalyzed the slow process that eventually resulted in "me".

The "two" worlds have since blurred for me and I'm fast losing my ability to separate them. Everything seems hopelessly intertwined and the feeling one is usually granted upon waking, that of being anchored back in reality, has been absent as of late.

I understand why humans are so dedicated to their rigid schedules of day and night, rest and work, youth and age. They're focal points. Breadcrumbs. Basically the whole point to this human experience. Just like when I was younger, when I start careening through space and time, my mindset becomes equally adrift. When I have a steady job, the ability to get to a gym and a girlfriend with whom to attach experience, things seem perfectly normal. Psychedelic experiences are limited to the occasional intense dream and of course actual ingestion of substances understood to create such states. However, amid the chaos I am now experiencing, and have experienced at regular intervals throughout my life, the lack of a discernible timeline throws everything into question. Mundane things take on an additional layer of profundity and simple human interactions become laced with synchronicity and meaning. The feeling of trying to be able to pay attention but not being able to has spilled over from dreams into the world. It's like when you go to a party or an amusement park or anything new and disordered. You have a certain amount of the experience that your brain will let you have in the actual moment funneled into sharp spots of presence and then you have the remainder to be experienced as time wears on and you are fed the overwhelming amount of stimulus you ingested earlier in portions acceptable for integrating interpretations.

My life is in boxes and I'm unsure whether or not to unpack. I've been at this apartment for a little under a week now and not too much is unpacked. An organic existence has developed inside my planned one. All useless possession have fallen by the wayside and just the essentials are being utilized. Kitchen, bathroom, clothing. Everything else remains untouched. I'm reminded of my brief stint in jail, or family vacations, or either of my periods of living away from home subsisting on only the bare essentials.

A question develops: Do I need all this shit?

The clear, immediate answer is no.

But I know better than that. Given enough time, everything would just accumulate again. So my charge becomes not attempting to rid myself of all of it, or even to grow so wealthy as to acquire more, instead I must strive to purify. Keep what is crucial to the existence I've created for myself.

Still though, even knowing this, the visceral visual of everything neatly packed n' stacked is hard to ignore.

A big part of me wants to leave everything be. Just unpack when and where the need for an item arises. Another part desires to request off a string of days and to get everything completely set-up how I see fit. This struggle would have defined stress in my youth, but in my maturity I view it from the third position and pick and choose when and where to ally my support without ever losing my sense of calm.

The lines between "me" and "out there" are starting to blur. I mean even more than they already had. Everything seems a perverted extension of myself. Upon waking, and still reeling from the severe states suffered while sleeping, I was still not fully "here". Reality still felt like a dream. Since showering and sitting down to type this, things have greatly settled down.

*Tangent: typing to me seems to be the very definition of the mode of existence we experience as humans from birth to death. Slow, purposeful, calculated attempts at capturing something that is inherently incapturable. When we are Moon-Faced Buddha, typing/life seems slow, boring and monotonous. When we are Sun-Faced Buddha, typing/life seems an elegant way to progress forward and simultaneously anchor ourselves. When you've had overwhelming dreams/nightmares, you long for waking life. When you've had a string of drawn-out tedious days in the Conscious Realm you pine for sleep and astral adventure. Such is the ebb and flow of life. Such is the expression of the very duality we are here to experience. Yin and Yang. The fundamental balance of opposing forces understood to create unity through perceived separation. /Tangent*

I was fully dressed from this morning, (I had to cover the portions of my anatomy deemed unacceptable for exposure to society in order to politely send off a young lady that had spent the night) and still very much out of it when I first decided to reach for my phone and rejoin the reality game. Motivated by hunger and confused by recent mental escapades I sauntered around my apartment aimlessly until settling in on a bag of baked goods acquired from work last night. I set in on them and leaving my front door wide open, traipsed down the stairs and out onto the double-wide sidewalk partitioning off commercial/residential space from the road.

Something snapped back into place.

"What are you doing?"

I dunno. Eatin' muffins/doughnuts and lookin' around. What are you doing?

"Where are your shoes?"

Uh, upstairs. We never wear shoes, don't act like this is something new.

"True, but typically we endeavor upon shoelessness mindfully. We are AWARE and actively CHOOSING to NOT wear shoes. You just plodded down here barely awake."

*eating, thinking about acquiring more food, wondering where everybody is, questioning the validity of his waking state*

"Go back up stairs, write a blog, title it 'Barefoot in The City' and focus on this ambiguity between wakefulness and dreaming."

*nods, heads up stairs*

The static routine that tends to bore and drive toward altered consciousness was absent and instead the unease and desire for stability was prevalent. It would appear I have achieved that. Sitting here, for the past few hours, typing this, has certainly done its part in anchoring me back to what we humans collectively refer to as reality.

Since quieting my minds investigation, a different focal point has emerged. Cyclical behavior. Days, weeks, months, seasons, years.

Cycles. I've done this before. In California. At 19. A theory is beginning to emerge. Perhaps I am destined to repeat my actions endlessly until developing an awareness that supersedes them and allows me to elicit real change.

While my overall progress has spiraled ever upward, that is only from the perspective of a certain vantage point in space. Rotated and taken top-down, I've been moving in circles.

My nonlocal nature is asserting itself as I simultaneously feel like I did as a young teenager living at home, a young adult in California, a twentysomething in my first apartment, how I will likely feel at my modest Vish mansion and in the property I will own in Japan.

It's a very weird, very hard to describe feeling mired in juxtaposition. I feel independent yet lonely. I feel free yet unsure of where to go. Calm and yet somehow confused. Deep inside I know everything will work out, but just below the surface I am anxious to get the show on the road. Sometimes I am so stereotypically human it disgusts me.

This susceptibility to the fickle flow of my mind serves to remind me why I support my own personal marijuana habit. Regular use of cannabis allows me to compartmentalize more efficiently. To definitively enter things into either reality or nonreality. As it stands, when left sober for long periods of time I veer toward the extremes most aim for with psychedelic use. Put simply: When unable to get high via cannabis, I am high all the time. Cannabis does not cancel out my high it merely allows me to schedule to experience it at times when it is more convenient for me to do so.

It would appear that I'm going to keep gravitating to the depths of this valley until my oscillation chooses a side to commit to. While punctuated by periods of perception wherein my immediate involvement is not necessary and the lack of such does not create unrest, overall I keep coming back to the same place. I am continually confronted with having to make a choice. And that choice is represented by a question. A question that is asked in more direct terms in our youth. -- What do you want to be when you grown up? -- At this point along the graph it has take a more broad scope of inclusion. -- What do you want to do?

While when I was younger this question served to torture me, I've grown enough to understand that if that is the main conflict in your life, deciding what you want to do, you are pretty well off. Then, it was something to "solve" or "fix", now, it's just something to think about. To grant dedicated thought to.

I am sure that I will figure everything out and be okay.

I am not sure I am awake.

Setting/Achieving Goals

2011-11-05T23:13:00.000-07:00

11.3.11
Yesterday, a buddy agreed to bring his truck over and to help me move. The truck only had a six foot bed. So, we took a few trips and then called it a night. Thankfully, he arranged to have access to a larger truck for today.

One of things we did manage to move was my couch. Whenever bed time came, I slept on the floor of the partway emptied out place. This morning, when I awoke, my landlords were standing over me. Which, in their defense, is not that creepy cuz a.) I was supposed to be gone on the 31st and b.) I sleep like the dead.

Compounded with that, I accidentally missed work. An entire shift. No-call, no-show. That never looks good.

And yet, despite all that, I had a great time today. Joey Booker helped me move, I have to say, with a raging broner, the dude is the bee's knees. It was like hanging out with myself. Funny, high-energy, full of vitality. I loved it. A grueling experience for most, was a hang-out/story-time for our optimistic asses. Ever the consummate gentlemen he treated me to bacon pizza not once, but TWICE, during our moving ordeal. Once yesterday and once today. I am rather shocked at what it essentially feels like to hang out with me. I almost never want to hang out with a "normal" person ever again. That young man, single-handedly took what was a daunting and somber task and turned into a funtime partytime cakewalk. It was so nice to for once be on the outside looking in. Take a look at dis rah-dikaluss mafucka right here:

Fantastic. I am definitely stoked to hang out with him without the need to ask favors or complete tasks. That kid is goin' places.

A few months back I started walking on my hands again. After breaking my wrist 3 years ago, I was told that I would NEVER again be able to walk on my hands and that I'd possibly never be able to lift weights. When I was granted one more month in my place, I challenged myself to handwalking the entire length of the apartment before I left. DIRECTLY (I have a witness, haha) after moving EVERYTHING out (2 dudes, 2 trips, 5 hrs total) I had Booker record this:

It's kind of amazing to me that I literally did something I was told by medical professionals that I would never do again. I'm having a real hard time not dwelling on the awesomeness of overcoming such a prognosis. Such is the power of Consciousness. Of Intent. If you fully and truly set your mind to something, NOTHING can get in your way.

Booker had to book it somewhat early and I had one last item left to transport. My big corkboard. He was kind enough to drop me off and after completing the handwalk challenge I was up for another hurdle to clear. Unfortunately I was not prepared for reality.

When he dropped me off, and I entered my old apartment, now completely bare except for the corkboard, I was overwhelmed with loneliness and memories. I broke down into tears (rare) and even began talking to myself (INSANELY rare), I eventually gathered my composure and set off on my quest. Not before ungracefully calling my ex and suffering a subsequent text barrage wherein she requested that we cut ties completely. I let the difficulty of the task at hand distract me away from that. I do love a good challenge.

It took me a damn long time to walk it over. I had to switch hands every thirty seconds or so. By the time I'd actually made it to Brookline blvd. it was around midnight and my forearms/hands/shoulders were screaming/burning. That trek was harder than the day of moving and the handwalk challenge combined.

The corkboard ended up serving as as conversation starter/topic of interest. A group of three dudes randomly inquired as to what I was carrying and a conversation developed. The readily available, and visually digestible, collage of all things Vish quickly ingratiated me to them. They were somewhat young and my frank/humorous nature seemed to take them completely by surprise. I spoke candidly about "beatin' ma dick" and then we waxed philosophical on the mathematics of a properly proportioned posterior. Mentions of Alexis Texas, Kristina Rose, Rachel Starr, Pinky, and Kim Kardashian followed. I do so enjoy a good rump.

*pauses to think about bums*

Anyhoo, a cop drove by and told us to keep it down. One of the dudes got lippy. The cop dismissed us and set in on the young buck. Myself and the other two rolled up to my crib where they practically fell in bro-love with me. Topics of discussion ranged from ass to cannabis to martial arts and philosophy. Such an amazing feeling to literally have it be your first day in a new neighborhood and to already be making friends. I offered to smoke them out for free and I hope they take me up on it. The concept seemed quite novel to them, and in our short time I already seemed to have a positive impact on their way of thinking.

Eventually I sent them home though because some buddies contacted me about middle-manning for them. The English language may be direct and nice for spelling out things plainly, but it's somewhat lacking in attaching beauty to events the way more Romantic languages do. There is something quite sublime about smoking for free in the company of people you enjoy. This seems an obvious and oversimplified concept, but there's much more to it than words are capable of communicating.

They came, we blazed, they left.

Shortly thereafter, I got a call from my "old" neighbor to help find her cat. I struck off her way but as I anticipated, the moment I was almost there, I got a call that they had already found the fickle feline. Happy she found 'im I about-faced and headed home, content to categorize the jaunt into the "health and exercise" section.

I was plenty high while walking and the effects of such a state combined with music and physical activity made for a powerful experience. One I usually take for granted. Walking, after such a long physical day, being high and listening to music felt just perfect. I was the master of my own destiny, forming my own path with my own two feet.

When I got back home, the concept of buildings seemed overly simplified.
"It's just outside that's inside is all."
Specifically what brought this revelation on was the stairway up to my new apartment. I live above a couple of businesses and it's pretty evident to me that over time, as things grew closer and closer together, the stairway materialized out of necessity. What was once probably wrought-iron steps on the side of a brick building has become wooden steps inside a building directly next to another building. The "coats" of "growth" seemed more noticeable.

On the way there, the sidewalk width, the road width, business, traffic, people all made perfect sense to me. The organic progress was immediately apparent. Hey people walk here a lot, lay down some concrete. Hey a lot of people walk here, lay down some additional concrete to increase the width of the path.

My buddies that I'd smoke with earlier had been texting me intermittently about ideas for some characters I'd explained to them. The Josh Vish show seems more inevitable than ever. What an absolute blast making it would be.

Another bonus of my new place is free wi-fi. Granted I have to sit dead center in the middle of a room I hadn't planned on using, but hey, it's free. Shutcho mouf n enjoy it, ya silly bitch.

I've waited long enough to publish this that a few days have passed, and with them more adventure/stories have occurred as well.

11.4.11
My old landlords refunded me the utility deposit they asked of me at the beginning of the month. The refund was granted in the form of a single hundred dollar bill.

Look at Ben Franklin. That smug motherfucker. Judging you. His pursed lips and solid stare practically scream "You're a fuckup." His face says, "What are you going to spend me on? It'd better not be petty. I hope you're using me wisely."

Fuck you, Franklin. I'm my own man, I'll spend you on whatever I want. Don't judge me.

And the game is on to figure out how I want to spend it. A vacuum cleaner is at the top of the order because I need one and I really wanna clean this place. I also need food. Decisions, decisions.

Tonight was the Annual After-Halloween Party.
One of the girls hosting it offered to pick me up. She's SUPER cute and nice and even popped my Phantom Fright Nights cherry not too long ago. I was broke as a joke and she picked up the tab. I was tired out of my mind before she suggested the evening but I could not pass it up. And my God am I glad I didn't. What a fun fuckin' time. Being at Kennywood at night is kinda magical. I mean being at Kennywood is in and of itself magical, but compounded with Halloween decorations/lights and workers in costumes, it was surreal. I was sober, but due to my lack of sleep and the novelty of the event it very much felt like one big drawn out psychedelic trip. It was epic. We had a blast for sure.

So when she offered me a ride, I'd just got home from work and she had just clocked out herself and was headed my way. I got in a superquick shower, showed her the place for a little bit and then decided on a "costume". We decided to get some pizza as both of us were hungry as fuck and had plenty of time before the shindig officially began. When we got to her place, the stress of having to set up/clean up was getting to her and I was eager to help. I did what I could yet largely felt ineffective. I communicated this and she told me a way in which I could help. She proffered some duckets and her keys and bade me acquire more beer.

Crew morale was the name of the game so I didn't want to prolong or increase her stress by asking for directions. I drove to where I remembered and then drove the strip back and forth to no avail. I came upon a CVS that I know a good friend lives near and here's where things got really adventurous.

Not finding the beer distributor on my own, I called my buddy and asked if he was home. He was. I asked if he'd come down and guide me to beer. He would. He did. He came down and popped in the car and while guiding me to the suds store told me of my serendipitous/synchronous timing. He and his girl had just ordered Chinese and were about to blaze. --- Sometimes I just really really REALLY love my life. --- So we went and purchased all the necessary provisions and headed back to his place. We headed upstairs and moments later the food arrived. They both insisted on sharing and being financially well off enough, for the first time in a month or so, I was able to throw a few bux their way for hospitality. I think of it less as "paying" them and more like keeping them in business. We smoked, we ate, we chatted. Our time was too brief, but unfortunately ice was melting in the car. They suggested I rock a custom-made Finn hat, and they didn't really need to twist my arm. Indeed, this was already shaping up to be quite The Adventure Time.

Hat in tow, high, beverage and ice in car, I headed to the party. Fortuitously enough I arrived just after the scheduled start point and thankfully many others had already arrived. My entrance wasn't as grand as I'd imagined (Kicking down the door, holding all three cases of beer, both bags of ice, shirtless, barefoot and capped FOR ADVENTURE TIME.) What actually occurred was decent enough though. After comedically interpreting an overhead insult as aimed at me (someone yelled 'slut') I furiously tore off my clothes and began setting up the brews in a bucket. Already the energy had been established. Ladies were starin'/touchin' and I was feelin' great.

A couple of dudes were apparently excited to see me specifically and indeed upon my arrival bromance was thick in the air. I was told that my youtube account and facebook profile were followed closely and that, and I quote, "I don't even fuck with Twitter, because I get everything I need from your facebook." My beard was complimented, as was my physique. The Ego was getting HEAPS of strokes from many different people.

My favorite moment of the evening however had little to do with fitness or appearance. One young man that had already expressed his fondness for my facebook and youtube videos went on to cite my encouraging his decision to quit smoking tobacco as pivotal in the execution of it. Absolute music to my ears. That is one of those bat 'em outta the park moments where something you always want/try to do actually gets done and to a degree beyond what you initially desired. I'm deeply honored and powerfully pleased to have contributed to a person eschewing tobacco use and reclaiming the sanctity of their flesh. Feels good, man.

This young man was also quite eager/excited to smoke cannabis with me. I don't know if you know, but I kinda/sorta enjoy smoking marijuana. I mean, just a little bit. The party was well underway and I was feeling great. Another crowd was indulging in ganja and quite willing to share, again being able to do so for the first time in a little while, I threw a couple bux their way to pay it forward. To keep 'em in business.

Sometime during all the shenanigans, shirtless bro-antics occurred on the back deck/porch and my innerbro was all too happy to oblige. Rugby, wrestling and other forms of cock-measuring stirred up my age old desire to have a physical equal to play rough with.

Basically the night consisted of enjoying genuine conversations with some, silly ones with others, flirting with girls, bonding with bros, drinking shots and beers, hittin' pipes and blunts, and of course, eatin' snax. Floatin' from room to room makin' people laugh, ogling girls' legs/asses. An absolutely amazing time.

After the night had kinda died down a bit and people began trickling off, one bold young lady bravely swooped in for a few smooches before departing. I cannot stress what an insane Ego-boost this celebration was. I practically feel justified in calling myself a celebrity at this point. Definite positive reinforcement for continued development down this path.

I was hoping to cuddle and maybe a little more with the girl that brought me, but unfortunately she goes hard in the motherfucking paint and was passed out by about 2. I lost her amidst the sea of inebriated individuals that populated her bed/floor. No room for Vish. :(

As serendipity would have it however there was room for Vish in another female's bed. Yes that's correct, I was lucky enough to cap off my night by enjoying some cuddles with a cute/funny/smart girl on her comfy bed. I am indeed just that fortunate. On our way to unconsciousness she brought my youtube knowledge up to speed. She showed/introduced me to some of the funniest shit I have ever seen. A lot of it I can't believe I didn't already know. The funnies were almost (almost) more pleasurable than the cuddling. She also went on to display some of her accomplishments and achievements and I must admit they are noteworthy, I am genuinely intrigued, my interest has been piqued.

11.5.11
In the morning, I pressured her (in the good way) to relax a bit, as she definitely seems to be the workaholic type. It felt so nice to wake up next to a soft body under covers on an actual bed again. When sleeping alone, I prefer a couch/futon, but there's not much in existence that compares to the pleasure of regaining consciousness on what is essentially a giant pillow that's been raised off of the floor with a member of the opposite sex directly sidled up to you.

In another example of my/our "small world" getting smaller, she apparently used to date an increasingly close friend of mine.

I had to go to work, so the girl that brought me, then took me home and was also kind enough to take me directly to work. I worked a super short shift today, the purpose behind it was to practice steaming milk. I'm a barista-in-training and despite what some humble caffeine-slangers say, it's very subtle art. I worked with a new co-worker and we seemed to hit it off pretty well right from the start. Conversation flowed easily and he is exactly where I wanna be when it comes to coffee knowledge. A bona fide connoisseur. I will be shadowing him, and him specifically, closely in the coming weeks. So far I've found two worthwhile work-related mentors there.

On the way home I stopped by Molly's to try their by-the-slice offer and let me just say, WOW what a fantastic product. I am thoroughly pleased and will DEFINITELY return for more. Absolute quality food being serving at that establishment. I woulda taken a picture of those delicious slices of 'za, but alas my phone was dead. Between that and the "hand-pies" I've been purchasing at Pitaland I'm really enjoying my new apartment's location. The proximity to street-food that I can eat on the fly (and for pretty dang cheap) is a huge plus. I've been striking a nice little rhythm of waking up a little bit before work, heading out, spending $3-5 on something I can eat while I walk, eating free food at work and then having my tips from the day recoup and typically exceed the day's expenses. I am more than okay with this. Wake up, have certain amount of money in pocket, buy some food, eat free food, go home with more money than when you came. My net worth is steadily gaining currently and obviously I very much enjoy this.

Tomorrow is my first day off since moving in and I hope to at least establish a basic living area. Kitchen, bathroom and a moderate bedroom set-up. I'll let everything else kinda develop organically as I go. I really don't know how I wanna lay everything out. It's a lot of room for one person. I'm heavily considering having a roommate move in. I don't really wanna unpack too much because history has taught me that I don't typically stay in once place for too long. While the location is ideal, the cleanliness, or lack thereof, has me very much entertaining the thought of moving again after winter. I dunno, we'll see.

Remember, remember!
The fifth of November,
The Gunpowder Treason and Plot;
I know of no reason
Why the Gunpowder Treason
Should ever be forgot!

自主制作アニメーション『the TV show』

2011-10-25T19:40:00.000-07:00

Good things come in threes, apparently. What kind of a monster would I be if I didn't share these things? This is top-notch animation, a truly unique experience. I highly recommend you watch it.

Blockhead - The Music Scene

2011-10-25T18:21:00.000-07:00

Another sweet animation The Internet Gods have brought to my door that was just too amazing to keep to myself.

DyE "Fantasy" by Jérémie Périn

2011-10-24T11:21:00.000-07:00

Haven't really been in the mood to post something that I didn't write or create firsthand for a while, but this was just too unique not to share.

Without spoiling it for you, I'd like you to note the two distinctive halves to the narrative, and hopefully agree with my assessment that either half could stand alone by itself. Combined together, simply sublime. Any time I'm on the internet, this is exactly what I'm hoping to find.

Back On The Horse

2011-10-18T20:50:00.000-07:00

Tuesday is the new Monday, haven't you heard?

I'd planned on being productive yesterday, but an unforeseen event delayed my progress.

It was a good delay, though. A welcome delay. A needed delay.

A girl drove in from out of state, simply to meet/spend the night with me. Direct conversation/experience in and of itself? Amazing. Objectively realizing a teenage girl drove miles to just meet me? Huge Ego boost. We stayed up most of the night talking, and while she slept I entered a trance wherein I simply held her and listened to/watched her sleep. When she finally woke up, I had just about dozed off and she convinced me to get back up again. I knew I was going to be useless for the day anyway and was already pleasantly distracted, so I decided to just spend the day with her. She was here, now. Might as well use this time while I have it. Tomorrow (today) was open and free. We had a great time laughing and talking and getting to know one another. Words can't tell you how nice it was to have another warm body on the couch with me in this rapidly emptying/suffocating apartment. Her brief little visit served to divert attention away from my current strife, and for that I am extremely thankful. It would also seem that we made a genuine connection and that I positively impacted her life as much as she did mine.

Besides, I got a lot done today, anyway. So, no harm, no foul. right?

I scheduled some appointments to see some places this week. I walked around turning in applications and getting new ones, filling them out and turning those in. I even scheduled a tentative interview for Friday.

Today, I got that old familiar feeling of wanting to be a part of everyone's life again. Literally everyone. I somehow feel responsible for sadness. Like it's my fault. Like it's my duty to eradicate it from the world.

People will say that you shouldn't feel "The Weight Of The World On Your Shoulders" and that I should give up. People will say that we need sadness to counterbalance joy. I disagree. I'm in human form, I live, I breathe. I'm a part of the world. Not just a transcendent "One With Everything" part of the world either, a REAL physical, visceral part of the world. I have corporeal form, my actions and decisions DIRECTLY affect others. Why shouldn't I feel responsible? Why do we need misery to offset happiness? That's like saying I need to eat cat-shit in order to enjoy a steak. Stupid. I can enjoy a steak plenty fine without ingesting something disgusting to compare it to. Utilizing bad experiences to serve as perspective for enjoying good things is a wise method, but not a required one.

For a long time I've been on the Path Of Jesus. The Extrovert. The path wherein I preached The Way and told of the Secrets To Happiness. The very act of speaking about happiness, however, seems to negate happiness. Trying to teach people to be happy or to "fix" their lives for them seems to backfire and result in perverted perceptions of insecurity and inadequacy.

I'm straying to the Path Of The Buddha. Maybe if I'm just me, FULLY me and nobody else, others will get the hint and adopt any or all of my methods for themselves. It's ironic being said to someone so seemingly narcissistic and self-involved, but perhaps I should focus on myself MORE.

I've always thought the secret to my happiness would be making everyone else happy. Maybe the secret to making everyone else happy is me simply being happy.

Maybe I will adopt the attitude of "fake it til you make it" and I'll just do everything I normally do when happy and take it from there.

Eat. Smoke. Lift. Jump. Sprint. Climb. Swim. Walk. Bike. Run. Watch. Play. Read. Joke. Speak. Write. Capture. Entertain. Educate. Draw. Cook. Fuck. StoryTell. Photograph. Share. Hug. Inspire. Laugh. Learn. LOVE. Breathe. Sit. Stretch.

For as much as I want to help others and make them happy I am also vehemently stubborn on things I want for myself personally. Maybe I've been going about it all backwards? I've always thought that helping others would lead to allowing me to do things for myself. Maybe if I just focus on doing things for myself, that will lead to the happiness of others?

I walked several miles today so on my way back home I deemed it necessary to ingest sustenance. I went to Fredo's and got this:

It's called Ćevapi and the red sauce pictured is Ajvar. Both were very delicious.

I was going to use it to fuel my continued walking, but I ended up getting a ride home from a neighbor, and being off my feet just felt too sweet to head back out again. Initially the idea was not only to use it for fuel, but also to use my momentarily stunted hunger to shop for groceries. Which, as I type this and still feel somewhat satiated (very unusual for me) doesn't seem like a bad idea. I've been putting off grocery shopping for a little while now because being among so much food whilst so hungry is the purest form of torture I've ever known.

If I don't do that, I will at least try to pare down some of the surplus clothing I've been inexplicably holding on to for years.

Many productive things got done today, and I aim to make as much use of the night as possible.

I'm not out of the woods yet, but I'm glad to at least have my bearings again. That's all I've ever asked for. I don't have to have stability as many people know it, just some semblance of what needs to be done. That's all I ask. I don't mind work, I don't mind dirt, I don't mind sweat. As long as it has a goal. One that I can see and understand. The hardest parts of situations like this isn't the legwork, it's the confusion. The constant second-guessing and what-if'ing. I don't mind laboring, but I do mind wondering if my labor is doing any good. As long as I know I'm working toward something, I can pretty much do/get through anything.

One Step At A Time

2011-10-15T15:39:00.000-07:00

The apartment is cold, dark and empty. JUST LIKE MY HEART, haha.

I'm in that bodily state of low temperature wherein normally trivial bumps and scrapes attain a brand new layer of pain. Bumping a knuckle here, bonking an elbow there. It all seems to hurt much more when one is cold.

I've never been one for subtlety so I'll just go ahead and acknowledge the obvious symbolism in that.

Things that wouldn't normally hurt or affect us, have much more impact when we're already in a state of distress.

A lot of the trauma of this series of events is due to the proximity of its constituent parts. Any standalone portion of this would be a daunting obstacle in its own right, but all combined together it's like the Voltron of Ass-Fuckery.

I just want some stability, you know?

I've done this (unfortunately) enough times now, that it hasn't fully taken me by surprise or fully taken me off my feet. I am still standing. I have a good idea of what to do. I will go on. That much, I know. The exact details of how, however, are going to need worked out.

I'm doing what I've taught myself to do in these stressful situations: putting my blinders on. Willful tunnel vision.

I began writing in an effort to center myself. I meant that as in here and now, but in general I guess that applies too. Writing focuses me. Makes my thoughts more tangible. When they're inside my head I'm more susceptible to the ebb and flow between them and my emotions. When they're on the screen and flowing off my fingertips, I'm like a scientist or a student assessing a problem. I look at the problem, eliminate as many variables as possible and then proffer a solution, fully prepared to embark upon the process of trial-and-error.

So what I know now is: I have to be out by the 31st. I have no income. I have no place lined up to go. Most of my belongings are already packed and stacked in a way that, I have to give myself, is much more efficient than past versions of myself or current versions of others could accomplish. It's impressive, really.

This sucks, and it hurts, but like a newly christened boxer well into the sophomore years of his career, I've been hit before and I KNOW I will be hit again. And it's like Rocky Balboa tells me,

"It ain't about how hard you hit, it's about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward, how much you can take and KEEP MOVING FORWARD."

It hurts, my head is stinging, my ears are ringing and I'm having trouble seeing straight, but I'm on my feet. And more importantly, I'm aware that "he" is on his feet too, and gearing up to strike me again. I mustn't give up. I must be prepared. I will get through this. If this series of events hasn't stopped me in the past, why should I let it stop me now? Fatigue? I have too much pride to be beaten by that. If I'm going to be stopped, it's going to be all the way.

So what needs to be done?

First and foremost, I need to eat. I've lost a lot of weight/strength and I can't afford to lose any more.

So... I will make some eggs. I will eat them, and I will do the resulting dishes.

And then I need to secure income, so I will walk around and collect applications from ANYWHERE with a now hiring sign.

I will fill them out slowly and purposefully over this weekend and I will turn them in bright and early on Monday morning.

Lastly, I need to be more mobile, so I will bring everything up from the basement. Including the uniform empty boxes needed to finish packing. I will pack as much as I can tonight before falling asleep, whilst simultaneously trimming the fat anywhere I can. Getting rid of excess possessions. Things I don't need/use.

I may hate this process and it may make me doubt my Higher Self and this entire plane of existence, but that doesn't change my ability to recognize, and be impressed by, my growth and resilience. At each iteration of this cycle I have gotten better. Leaner, faster, stronger. Each crisis only serves to hone my resolve and mold me into a more pure version of myself. Hopefully, one day, there will come a point in my own development where I can never be caught off-guard again. Not living in a state of prepared paranoia, but living in a state of fully relaxed alertness.

The more I watch my life fall apart around me the more remarkable I find my own reactions to it. An objective part of me is literally awestruck at my awesome ability to pick up the pieces and move on. In my head sometimes I think "This is too much. I'm not going to make it. I'm in over my head.", and yet all the while I'm thinking that, I'm watching my hands, consolidate things into neat piles. It's almost like my physical being has a will of its own. And if what I've observed holds any truth it would appear that "he" literally does not know how to quit. At times like that, I'm all too happy to turn the reigns over to him.

There are problems, very real problems, that are going to shift out of my future and shift into my present very soon, but I can't let those distract me from the ones at hand. Cross each bridge as I come to it. What use is it to fret and worry about future bridges when there is one that needs immediate attending to?

I will let tomorrow's problems worry about themselves. For now, I'm going to deal with today's problems. Here and now's obstacles. Right now, the biggest things in my way are hunger, lack of income and loose possessions. All of which I have the power to fix, here, now, today.

Letter to No One.

2011-10-12T20:59:00.000-07:00

Hello You.

I'm sorry.

I know I let you down. I've been stubborn. We both know I'm like that.

You gave me so much. I took it for granted. I appreciate it in retrospect, though. I hope that means something to you.

I wish you didn't have to worry about me. I wish I could change that. I wish I could distance myself from you.

I want to be successful, I really do. Unfortunately it never seems to work.

You've encouraged me. You believed in me. I don't know if you were wrong, but I don't think you were fully right. I mean look at me. Look where I am. Look where our faith in me has landed me. We have to admit that I have a flaw. I don't know how to make money. I don't know how to support myself.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not giving up. I'm not saying I'm useless, just broken. We both know I have myriad talents, and yet we both know I've never done anything with them.

You might think you know who you are, but you don't.

I sometimes wish you were here with me. I understand that you can't be, though. You've distanced yourself from me. You had to. I don't blame you. I never wanted you to get close in the first place. For your sake. For my sake. For our sake.

You should just keep going. Yer doing great. Forget about me. Not forever. For now. Maybe I'll surprise both of us someday. You've figured this out better than I have.

For some strange reason you look up to me. Why? Clearly you've figured out something that I haven't. Embrace it. You don't need me. You never did. You wanted to.

I think about you a lot you know. I get mad at you sometimes (can you blame me?) but mostly I worry about you.

I really hope you are reading this. I really hope we can one day reconnect. I miss you. I'm not ready for you yet though. And you don't deserve me anymore. Yes, you put up with a lot, but you abandoned me. I can never forget that. No matter how hard I try.

It's late. It's quiet, you're reading this alone. Picturing me typing it. Imagining my voice. Smiling at the fact that I've acknowledged that. Maybe even a bit emotional. Yet you're still not a hundred percent sure if this aimed directly at you.

I assure you that it is.

I think about you a lot at night. When I get sad mostly. Cuz mostly when I get sad, I think of how you contributed to putting me here. And while that does lead to me getting sad for myself, it also makes me sad for you. You pretend you're stronger than you are. I've seen the real you. I used to be there for you. I wish you wouldn't pretend, but then again you probably wish I wouldn't either. I just hope you are okay, you know? You're not my responsibility any more. Technically you never were, but that never stopped me from feeling like that. I never really got a chance to tell you how beautiful you are. I know that's probably weird coming from me, now. Still, I hope you know.

All we were ever meant to be for each other was a mirror. Things you like in me are really things you like in yourself. Things I dislike you for are things I really dislike myself for. It would do both of us well to just sit and ponder our reflection for a while.

I've wronged you in a lot of ways, but you wronged me too. Neither of us is better. We're both human. We're both flawed.

But...

BUT.... We are getting better. I typed this. And you read it.

Keep smiling. You know I will.

My First Day Of Training

2011-10-11T16:11:00.000-07:00

10.11.11

I'm only wearing underwear. I'm slightly sweaty. My hands/feet are still wet from washing them. I just got in the door a few minutes ago.

I've emptied my center desk drawer. It's been broken for a while now, and yet right now seems like the time to fix it. This is how I'm attempting to escape reality.

Writing this is an attempt at centering back in on reality.

I am about to super-glue the corner of my busted desk drawer, and then after that, hammer in nails where it makes sense to do so.

I've stopped to begin this though, in order to keep on track. To stay mindful. To watch myself.

My house of cards is swaying in the wind.

Now the drawer is repaired, and refilled. The task is complete. And yet, I still had to tear myself away to type this. Even now I feel a tugging on my solar plexus and I can feel myself standing up and walking back to my desk.

I have to find my social security card. I brought my birth certificate today because I didn't have enough time to find it. So now, that I'm home, I must locate it. Now. This has to be done now, my thoughts say. And so I will stand...

I've laid all my files out in neat little piles. And shortly I will begin searching. You can see what I'm doing, can't you? Let me spell it out. Ruin the romance of the symbolism by directly acknowledging what it going on.

I am desperately searching for things to fix, that I can fix.

I want immediate gratification. I want to fill my drawer back up and slide it back into place. I want to stand back and say, "There! I did it! Me! All by myself! I fixed it!". I want to give myself a big old pat on the back.

I want to locate my elusive social security card so I can say, "Ha! I found it! Nothing eludes me!" Followed, of course, by a big old pat on the back. Good job, self. Great hustle out there today.

Even now, I'm losing myself in the fun of writing. Alas, the pull is too strong, I return to the piles...

Well, got rid of some surplus paperwork, but I've yet to locate the card.

I decided to call the number, that I should've called directly after receiving it, just now. At 4:30. Hours of operation ended directly at 4:30. Some times life speaks so loud and clear it's a wonder anything gets misconstrued.

I'm hungry.

My desk is a little cleaner, but the social security card is still M.I.A.

Now I've decided that it's important to redeem some High Life codes. After that, I'll probably do dishes. And after that, I'll have no recourse but to come back, finish this, publish it, and continue on with damage control whilst staying as mindful as possible.

Dishes are done.

Man, I am so frickin' hungry.

So everything is done. No more distractions.

The day started off with me waking up to my new badass alarm.

Which I specifically searched for and downloaded last night prior to going bed on time like a responsible boy. I wanted to be well-rested for my first day of training. And I wanted an alarm that would get me stoked to begin my new journey.

I got breakfast together (despite breakfast's attempts to foil me) ate it, got dressed and then rifled around for the social security card that I still haven't found. I didn't let it make me late, though. I adapted. I flowed. I got a manila folder and popped my birth certificate inside. Popped that inside a little black zip-up dealy. (Think adult Trapper Keeper. Er wait, no, get yer head out of the gutter, not that kind of adult. Okay, pervert, think Professional Trapper Keeper.)

Anyhoo, I strapped on my Vibrams, popped in my earbuds and hit the road. I enjoyed this unusually nice weather (for October) and made the 2 mile trek to my new job in no time.

I arrived early, good little employee that I am. I filled out ALL the new hire paperwork. And then I sat rapt with attention as Loren told the class more about the position. Well, part way through, the door opens up and Loren excuses herself. I take that opportunity to visit the restroom, and when I'm making my way back, both Melanie and Loren are still standing in the hallway. They ask me to come into their office. I do.

I failed the background check.

My record shows that I have a felony (which I do not) and that I have an open case (which I also do not). The felony charge was dropped, I did my time (220 hours of community service and about $1000 in court costs) and the case was closed. I was told all I'd have on my record would be a summary charge that wouldn't even show up in background checks. Surprise, surprise, I was lied to. The American Justice system, lying? Screwing over one of its citizens? Crazytalk...

I'm gonna try to fight it as best as I can, and I'm going to attempt to work there if I can, but I'd be remiss if I didn't admit that a big part of me sees this as a sign.

Life/The Universe/Fate/God/My Higher Self -- whatever label you wish to attach to it -- simply will not sit idly by and let my exist in mediocrity. It demands my excellence. Requires it. WON'T ALLOW ANYTHING ELSE.

So I have a clean[er] desk, an empty sink and that ever-present blank state.

No debt.
No income.
No car.
Less than a month left in this place.

No where to go but up, right?

So I suppose I'll take the bull by the horns and try to make the most out of my night/time under a roof.

I'll share this on facebook and in addition to that I'll make specific posts, but if you are reading this, right now, and you're in the Pittsburgh area, I want to sell you something.

I have many talents. Take your pick.

I will gladly give you a personalized nutrition and exercise regiment. I can take you through many different kinds of workouts and diet plans to help you achieve your fitness goals.

I can draw.

Ask me for a picture, I will draw it for you and then you can decide whether or not to buy it.

I am teh turbosex.

Take some pictures of me. Leave me currency in return.

I'm a storyteller.

Get me goin' and it's hard to get me to stop. I'll talk your ear off for HOURS about some of the most interesting shit you've ever heard. And then, you pay me. Da cash bux.

I'm funny.

During any of these activities, I will probably make you laugh. Not a measurable service per se, but please feel free to pay me for it.

I can write.

I will write you a story and you can decide whether or not to buy it.

Acting.

Bring over a camera, you will have more footage than you know what to do with. I talk a mile-a-minute and I'm basically a human cartoon character.

Videogames.

I will beat you so bad in Smash Bros., that you'll probably never play again and flinch every time you hear either "Falcon" or "PAAWNCH."

I am a good listener.

I will listen to your problems and then solve them for you. Despite my righteous beard and masculine demeanor, I'm very sensitive and in touch with emotions and the innerworking of the human mind.

These are just a handful of goods/services I'm willing/able to render. I'm a Jack-Of-All-Trades, Master Of Some.

Also, there is always the option of giving me money for free. Ain't nothin' wrong with that.

There are LOTS of things I'm good at. Won't you let me help you? It would help me.

I am, the Consciousness of All That Is.

2011-09-25T20:02:00.000-07:00

I would like to explain to you how you are God.

You like to think you are not God, but you are. I promise you.

You want God to be bigger than you, to be "more in control" well worry not, God is. You are. There are 2 perceived forms of yourself. You as you've existed since time immemorial, before birth and after death and the you that's reading this right now at this exact moment.

How did you get here? Why? Why are you reading this? YOU WANT TO.
What are the odds that you'd see this? What are the odds that someone else outside of you would type these things up and then post them for you to see? YOU ARE HERE BECAUSE YOU WANTED TO BE.

This is another form of God, of you, of yourself. I am you and I'm choosing to hold the mirror up for you to See Yourself.

Don't worry. You got this. All of it. It's just a game. One we play when we're tired of being the atoms in a shrew's paw in Nepal in 300 B.C.

Consciousness and human form are a window. Not an absolute value. They're how we observe ourself.

Everything that has happened or ever will happen, has and is here. Now.

You. Your consciousness. Your brain. Your flesh, shuts you away from all that. Focuses you on your "life". Which is not a bad thing. All according to plan. Yours. Mine. Ours. Gods.

Time does not exist, it is a relativistic system for determining position in the macro physical world we live in. Before your birth and after your death you are everywhere and nowhere. Everywhen and nowhen. All at once. Taking human form cancels the majority of that out.

Yes that's right, you read it here. Your existence is a vacation from being Infinity.

Some of us do get homesick though, that's why love (and yes even sex) are so special. And psychedelic drugs. And fame. All ways of reconnecting with Ourself.

You've forgotten it, and you may not want to admit even after reading this, but you are God. We all are. That's okay, though. Your ignorance is all a part of the game.

When everyone gets to my level, we have to start over anyway. So plunge forward. Ignorance truly is bliss. But if you're not ignorant, if you've started down the road of questioning, then let me save you the trip. It ends with you realizing that you are EVERYTHING. LITERALLY EVERYTHING. Your life as you lead it now, from behind the eyeballs reading this and the brain processing it, is a calculated move by your Godself to have some fun. Rejoice!

I can't be God, you'll say. You're crazy, you say.

Oh yeah?

Why are you here? No, not on Earth, I mean HERE, reading this. NOW. Just a coincidence? We're friends online and blah blah blah. No. You are here because the me that is you but not actually you was compelled to write this so that actual you can read it. Both parties acted out by God.

If you fear that you're not good enough, or smart enough, or strong enough, find solace in this: You chose to be here.

If there was a pill, or a surgery, or a chant, or a plant, or WHATEVER that could increase your intelligence and strength and such, what would happen if you kept doing it? What if you were granted the unending ability to increase your ability?

Well, eventually you'd become God. And as God, in your new omnipotent omnipresent form you'd deem it necessary that you be banished to a physical body and told nothing of it. Nothing that is, until you read this.

THIS IS YOUR WAKE UP CALL.

If you're still with me at this point, but not agreeing with it,

Think of it like this,

You know those "other" "people" that populate your dreams?

Who are they? They're just in my head, you'll say.

What makes you different than them? Than a squirrel or a bottle of lotion or a discarded corndog stick. One thing. One thing only.

The two most powerful words in existence.

I AM.

The moment you started saying those words, you stepped out of the murk and into the realm of God.

How can you, the you that can't even remember a spouse's birthday or what you had for breakfast last week possibly balance creating whole fully realized individuals inside your brain?

The only difference between "you" and "them" is your ability to say those two all powerful words: I AM.

God is merely the force that asks what asking is.

That neverending thirst for knowledge. That constant need to "get to the bottom of things".

Still don't believe me? Well then think of that one person you've met that seemed super simple at first, even borderline dumb. And then one day you found out they had an ability/interest that borders on idiot savant. This person you initially looked down your nose at now possessing the power to awe you. That's God. That's God nature.

None of us are better than any of us, cuz we're all the same. The only differences here, on this plane, are levels of awareness.

And at the Josh Vish level of awareness, I (we, you) want us to quit killing each other, to stop worrying so much and to simply have fun.

You created yourself/are creating yourself.

WE ARE GOD.

Self-Portraits

2011-09-24T21:34:00.000-07:00

Personally, this is one of the most beautiful and sublime images I have ever seen.

2011-09-14T12:02:00.001-07:00

Stray Cat Strut

2011-08-31T02:26:00.000-07:00

A few nights ago, I couldn't sleep because of some nearby beeping. When I finally got sick enough of it, I went outside. Attached to the building adjacent to mine was a balcony porch populated by some people smoking cigarettes. I asked them if they knew what it was, they did not.

I tracked the beeping to a house and knocked on the door. A man inebriated on some substance told me he couldn't hear it and largely seemed indifferent. When he closed the door, I scaled his house, got onto his porch and unplugged the offending party. What looked like a DVD player (no TV in sight) was the source of the loathsome tone. I climbed back down and went to bed.

A couple of days later, after I got off work, I saw a girl smoking a cigarette on the aforementioned porch. I told her how and why the beeping stopped and then invited myself up. We introduced ourselves, me being Joshua and her being Kelly. We chatted for a bit and after a few subtle clues, I asked her if she smoked weed, she agreed and I trotted back down to my place, packed up a bowl for us to blaze, and walked back up the stairs. We smoked and talked, and kept talking long after the bowl had been cashed. We talked for a few hours and it felt like we already knew each other. Turns out she'd just been fired from where I currently work. Small world.

A night or two after that I was restless and eager to be anywhere but here and when I went outside there were two on the porch again. I ascended the stairs and effectively broke into all of these people's lives. They had just packed a bowl and were all too willing to let me in on it. We puffed and passed and the rest of the crew came out to join. The pipe kicked, I wandered into their apartment, so similar to my own, and they all pretty much immediately accepted me. Only one was reluctant. Only one was aware. The girl in the Steelers jersey. Kelly's little sister, "Fudge". She was the only one to acknowledge how weird it is to just accept a completely random stranger into your life and home. She eventually warmed up to me and dubbed me "BeardJosh" as one of the tenants was already named Josh.

I took these videos.

I regaled them with thrilling tales of Vish adventure and they hungrily inquired for more. They volunteered their own hopes and dreams, fears and misgivings. I showed Fudge how to walk on her hands and helped her heat up a bowl of Chef Boyardee. Their apartment didn't have a microwave yet, so I ran it down to mine, nuked it and then brought it back up. Fudge insisted on sharing. Afterward, I invited them all down to my place to share a nice big fat bowl. Kelly and Josh declined to attend. I showed them my place, we talked, we smoked. The night sorta dissolved after that, but the memory and feelings remain strong.

I finally got my wish of seeing just what everyone else is "up to" in their own homes. Any time I go for a walk, especially if it's at night, I find myself inordinately concerned with what's going on in everyone's houses. I'm a curious fellow. I want to know what's going on in there. And now I know. It's not much different than anywhere else. The feeling I got being there, sitting in the corner, recording this video, was one of the most pure I've ever experienced in my life.

A feeling of immediately belonging, and being accepted, running simultaneous (and juxtaposed) to feeling completely foreign and alien. An outside observer/an inside participant. Both at the same time.

Some people recoil when a stray comes knocking and others let it inside, pour a bowl of milk, and pet with all the fervor of a lifelong owner.

Who knows where I've been?

Thank you. Thank you Kelly, Josh, Fudge, Alex and Snack. Thanks for giving this stray a feeling of home, even if it was only for a little bit. I wish we coulda been neighbors a little longer. We were only just getting started...

100 Days In Japan (Hopefully)

2011-07-10T17:51:00.000-07:00

A chance to go to Japan for 100 days AND GET PAID TO DO IT.
A chance to go to Japan for 100 days and BE PAID TO WRITE ABOUT IT.

This is literally like a once in a lifetime, dream-come-true sorta thing.

"On 24th December 2011, after completing its mission of travelling 100 days and reporting from all over Japan, the Travel Volunteer will transform into Santa Claus and deliver Christmas Presents to displaced children in the Tohoku region!" This is tailor-made for me. I've always wanted to be Santa Claus when I grow up. Santa Claus in Japan? That's so perfect it's scary!

Getting paid to blog... Is this real-life?

I'm filling out the application form now.

I filled out a good portion of the form, but I'm holding off on submitting it because I wanna make sure it's PERFECT. This is a completely sublime chance and I'm not about to let it slide through my fingers thanks to some poor grammar or an incomplete thought. I'm goin' at this samurai style. One slice, one kill. Everything in my entire being. Burning myself up completely and leaving no trace.

I'm going to list all of my Japan related hopes and dreams and put them into the appropriate section on the application. I hope they don't think me too greedy... ^_____^ I have a lot I want to do!

大和魂

Why I should be chosen.

I'm extremely personable. Charismatic, even. I love meeting new people and I get along with just about everyone I meet. Going to Japan has been a long-standing goal of mine and I've been completely engrossed in Japanese culture for well over a decade. I love absolutely everything about Japan. I even hope to pick up more of the language, and I anticipate I'll be able to do so relatively quickly/easily thanks to being fully immersed in Japanese-speaking society. Such a beautiful language. Both spoken and written. Name something Japanese-related, and I'll bet you that I love it. Samurai, sushi/sashimi, anime, video games, martial arts, Nintendo, Ghibli, robots, Zen, manga.

I love eating, working out, , watching movies, playing videogames, photography, writing, blogging, drawing, learning, and of course, learning about Japan!

Another trait that makes me a good candidate for selection is that I regularly maintain a blog now anyway, so it would be an extremely easy transition. I love to write! Especially on the internet! Some other pros to choosing me: I have a job that would understand. I have a safe place for my belongings during the 100 days.

I can't say it enough times and enough ways: This would literally be like a dream coming true for me.

In addition to all of that my birthday is actually on Christmas Eve and I've always wanted to be Santa Claus! I'm rather tall/large and I can grow a beard quickly, we might only need to dye it! To the kids I'll be the real thing!

What is my dream?

Like I've said, THIS literally would be my dream coming true. Getting to go to Japan for free is one thing, but for 100 days and essentially being paid to blog about it? Absolutely perfect. I've also always had what I thought was an unrealistic dream: to one day become Santa Claus. However, seeing as how as part of the package is transforming into Santa and handing out presents to the kids, this too will come true and combine with being in Japan to be simply sublime.

The only way this could fulfill even more of my dreams is if I also learned how to control my ki and fly and then went Super Saiyan! Haha!

Here is a huge list of things that any one of would fulfill the function of my dream. I'd be happy with absolutely any single one.

- Simply going to Japan.

- Finding, acquiring and learning to wield an authentic Katana.

- Dressing in full Samurai regalia and getting pictures of it.

- Kendo

- Sumo

- Zazen

- Visit and sit in a real authentic onsen, get to wear (and maybe keep) a yukata and zori during/afterward.

- Meeting Akira Toriyama

- Have him draw me DBZ style, get to keep it.

- Eating superfresh sushi and sashimi, and maybe learning how to slice some.

- Meeting and getting a picture with Shigeru Miyamato.

- Miyazaki Museum

- Pictures/memorabilia

- Meeting and getting a picture with Miyazaki.

- Visit Pokemon Center

- Pictures/video of the legendary Shibuya crossing.

- Akihabra/Harajuku

- Osaka

- Tokyo

- Obtain authentic kimono and hakama. Tabi too.

- Picture of me with Mt. Fuji in background and a cherry blossom tree.

- Meeting and getting a picture with Kentaro Miura.

- I would like to retrace all or at least a portion of Basho's trail.

- Visit the grave sites of Akira Kurosawa and Shunryu Suzuki. (If located in Japan.)

- Meeting and getting a picture with Utada Hikaru.

- DOING THE OSAKA BANG THING!!!

- Learning how samurais and monks shaved their heads. Getting one.

- I would like to impress at least one local with pronunciation.

- Practice a character/phrase with calligraphy.

- Green tea ceremony.

- Aikido.

- A holographic Pikachu a la Hatsune Miku. (That one's for free, Miyamoto-sama. ;D)

- It would be an honor to run the Ninja Warrior course.

- I would like to be on a wacky Japanese game show.

- DRESSING UP AS SANTA CLAUS AND GIVE GIFTS TO ALL THE CHILDREN!!

- Learning to fly!

- Going Super Saiyan!

There is so much I want to do in Japan that this list could go on forever and ever. So I'll summarize again: simply being in Japan will be a dream come true.

I thank you for taking the time to review my application and I thank you in advance if I am chosen, I promise I will do my very best at exemplifying why everyone should go to Japan. It will sincerely be my pleasure. It already is.

The Zen Of Anger

2011-05-01T12:45:00.000-07:00

Girls vs. Boys
Crying vs. Yelling/Swearing

If I made you cry, good. You made me angry.

We abuse each other. And take more abuse than we fully consciously realize.

Random Ideas:
Girl that gets paid to have food eaten off of her. "taekwondo body pizza" (how's that for random?) has nightmares that intermingle with sexual fantasies about actually being eaten.

I will never feel guilty for being a man or expressing anger again. Not so long as it is acceptable for women to cry.

It is impossible to speak about the future. Anything we say automatically becomes the past, during the act of talking we experience the present. Thinking about the future is the only way to "talk" about it.

the value of limitation

"god mode" game, gain more and more skills until the "game" becomes boring, starts off as a puzzle, turns into an action-adventure, ends as a littlebigplanet/minecraft-esque create-your-own game, only way to "beat" the "game" is to recreate it inside itself
"infinity" the only thing there is to do when you've reached the end is: to start over. From scratch. "The Journey, not The Destination."

There is an inverse proportion between ability and motivation. The greater your ability to do something, the less your inclination to do it. We only want challenges.

The "meat" of the game is the human realm/level of awareness. Makes players forget they are even playing a game. The parts leading up to and coming after happen in a much shorter span of time. With the latter showing a propensity toward exponential increases in speed.

1 -through the dimensions
2 -single cell
3 -evolution
3a-ecosystem a
4 -consciousness
5 -humans
5a-Christ consciousness
6 -technology
7 -ecosystem b
7a-the singularity a [the direct beginning of the singularity]
8 -planets, solar systems, galaxies, cosmosystem, black holes, spiral power
9 -the singularity b [the near end of the singularity] "waking up"
10-starting over/ [Quantum Unity, Quantum Dispersal]

the "game" of "life"

Sorta like Katamari Damacy and Gurren Lagann rolled into one. (Get it? Rolled? fnar fnar fnar)
Dash of The Matrix.

What do you do once you've rolled everything up? Start over.
Separate it. Willfully disseminate it, then begin anew.

If I'm to be expected to control my anger, why aren't you expected to control your sadness?

I am high off of my anger right now.
I feel incredible.
I am thinking so clearly.

My anger focuses me.

Anger is nothing but misguided passion.

The Black Swordsman

2010-11-01T14:19:00.000-07:00

Words that are positively screaming to escape my brain/mind...

2010-10-29T23:04:00.001-07:00

Wow.

Just wow.

Self-Advice Mode: [ENGAGED]

Here we go, buddy.

Words>Comics>Animation>Movies

Create your reality. Literally. Think Synechdoche. Spirals. Actively affecting the world around you.

Side note: I FUCKING LOVE GHOST IN THE SHELL.

Let your imagination be your guide.

"Where the mind goes, the body will follow." - Arnold Schwarzenegger

Overcome your weaknesses.

Constantly improve.

Get stronger, faster, more flexible, last longer, GET BETTER. Not just physically. Mentally. Spiritually.

Art is training to be God.

I want to make movies. And anime. I want appreciation/admiration for this. I want to give back to the world around me in the most correct and complete way I possibly can. <-----------Self-Actualization

Right now. At this very instant. You are creating the world around you.

Hello, Neo...

One

You had a thought, coalesced it into words, gathered motivation to express it and then physically touched your fingertips to this keyboard. Knowingly and willingly.

DON'T GIVE UP.

KEEP FIGHTING.

LIKE GUTS.

LIKE YOU.

Shave your head. Keep your beard. Keep it maintained. Work on your body. Workout. Rehab your wrist. Don't take no for an answer. Do whatever you want. Make yourself. Fix your eyes. Fix anything else you want. LIVE FOREVER. If you want to... Or die. If you want to... Buy/wear nice clothes. Take care of yourself. Eat well. Adapt. Improve. Get better. Stay young. Stretch. Train. Do pushups. Real flat palm pushups. Walk on your hands again. Use the power of your mind/spirit. Wear wraps at first and ween yourself off of them. Get a cybernetic arm. DO WHATEVER IT TAKES TO REALIZE YOUR DREAMS.

quit eating junk. treat yourself right. the best of the best. you deserve it. everyone does.

ONE LIFE TO LIVE.

I GO HARD.

Help everyone you meet. Unless they express desiring otherwise. Let people be.

Look in the mirror more. Both literally and metaphorically. Examine your reflection.

Temet Nosce.

Remember the past, enjoy the present, create the future.

If you haven't watched the Ghost In The Shell feature, you're not a true anime fan. Required viewing.

Spend less time on Twitter and Facebook and spend more time writing fiction and blogging. DO WORK, SON. Be productive Be-e productive. B-E P, R-O-D, U-C-T, I-V-E. Productive. That's right, productive! Cheer yourself on.

I wonder how many people reading this will understand it... (I wonder if my future self will...)

In short: Get bettter. It'll make you happier and it'll make your life better. That's not to say that you don't have anything to be happy about now. Or that your life isn't good. You do, and it is. Appreciate where you are, for sure, but strive to improve. The two are not mutually exclusive. Highly possible to do both. Be the best you that you can be. NO WASTE.

"Do not wait to express yourself fully." - Shunryu Suzuki

Closing notes, don't forget about Japan/Asia/The World. Connect with the universe. Or rather reinforce/rediscover the existing connection(s). You are one with everything and free to do anything. Literally. Seriously. If you can imagine it, you can create it. No fucking joke. Bicycles, computers, fiction, LIFE... Have an idea? Something to express? REALIZE IT. FULLY. NO COMPROMISE. But don't forget to laugh. Don't get too serious. Have fun. Enjoy yourself. What is being funny? Besides creating happiness where there was once none? Or intensifying preexisting joy? It's doing that for others. And for yourself. Perpetually. Being funny is one of the easiest ways to express love. Giving someone the simple gift of laughter. Here, friend, this is for you. [One laugh. - Love, Me] I love making people laugh. I love making myself laugh. I love sharing laughter. [Live - Laugh - Love] Cheesy teenage girl facebook-type shit, but still profound. Why you ask? Look again. Live-Laugh-Love They're all one in the same...

Go to bed on time. Control yourself.

Quit simply writing about stuff and start actually doing it.

Pittsburgh, NM

2010-10-17T17:49:00.000-07:00

NM stands for New Mexico.

And no more. And no more New Mexico.

And no mother.

And needs me.

As in no more New Mexico, Pittsburgh needs me.

I'm beginning to feel really really trapped. The lines between guidance and limitations have blurred. I can no longer tell them apart. I keep hoping it's just my depression flavoring my perception, but everything in my higher thinking tells me that I'm justified. I keep trying to steer myself out of this tailspin, to tell myself it's going to be okay, that everything happens for a reason, but it's getting harder and harder...

Life seems like a cruel parody of itself. Nothing seems real and everything seems arbitrary. I've lost the name of action.

I'm blathering and spiraling so I'll attempt to ground myself in some facts and lose myself in some storytelling.

A while back I was faced with a multitude of difficult events assailing me all at once (an increasingly common theme in my life). Without too much backstory it basically left me homeless, jobless and licenseless. But there was hope. A light at the end of the tunnel. That light has grown very very dim. Typically I am a beacon of light and hope for others. I can keep them positive, happy and motivated rather easily. However, it would appear, I am immune to my own medicine. I was able to deal with all the things I was dealing with because I thought I was headed toward an oasis. Rest. Well Deserved Rest. Everything I persevered through, though hard, seemed easy in a way because I knew I was heading toward something. Working toward something.

At what point does aiming toward a goal become more foolish than abandoning it?

I was due to move out west with my family and to attend university. Something I'd worked long and hard to zazz myself up about, and quite successfully so. I threw away many crucial possessions (bed, tv, entertainment center, washer, dryer, microwave, etc.) simply to be more mobile. I was moving halfway across the country. To live with my parents. I wouldn't need these things again for at least 4 years. Holding on to them would've held me back. Would've been too expensive to move it all. And I'd have no place to put it once I got there. But I did what had to be done. Or so I thought, at the time. I'd be able to afford new and better things once my education garnered me gainful employment. Why hold on to my dinged futon and nicked entertainment center? A California king and HDTV were in the works down the line.

No more.

Shortly after the incident with my car (see this entry for details) my mother disowned me. So now I'm down a sister and a mother. All I have left is my dad and baby sis. Both of which are pretty aloof to the whole situation. She stated her reasoning as this very blog. I suspect it goes far deeper than that. There is a very complex interplay of submissive and dominant personalities in my immediate family, it's for this very reason that my youngest sister and father are oblivious to these recent goings-on. On the outside world there is no question that I am an extremely dominant force (sometimes overly so) and the rest of my family is pretty much the same. However in comparison to the forces of myself, Taylor and my mother; my father and Sami seem tame and demure. And at times, when held in relation to my mother or Taylor even I can seem passive. Astonishing, I know. We are all very powerful personalities. While Sami, my dad and myself have all come to terms with this (for the most part) and let the dynamic shift and change as it will, it seems to very much trouble Taylor or my mother to be dominated. Especially so by me.

In essence I think my mom was saying, "You can't fire me, I quit." I think she has always feared abandonment by me and when the stakes got this high she preemptively struck. I also believe a hint of reverse-psychology was present to try to motivate me and switch the balance of power to her favor. Doing what I do best (pushing past things, moving forward) my brain got to work at rationalizing the issue. Two branches developed simultaneously. Denial and acceptance. Both due to pride. My initial defensive thought was, "Fine, you know what? She was holding me back any way." (Which I've come to modify and understand more realistically.) And then it developed into rage. I'll stay sequential. While I love my parents more than anything and wouldn't change them for anything (up to the point of disowning me) my mother has always been close-minded and conservative. Very "Christian". In the derogatory sense. Many of my sources of shame with regards to sex, swearing and religion came from her.

Growing up (and still today) my dad was always far more approachable. Calm. Rational. Open. Ready and willing to answer my questions about God and The Universe and sex and my own body and swearing and society. My mother however was very oppressive. Like the Pope."Why [x]?" I'd ask. "Because God says so." she'd reply. Pretty much any time I've ever felt shame in my life it's come back to her. Not God or my own conscience, but her. WHAT IF MY MOM FINDS OUT?! So her disowning me, in a way, was a huge relief. A freedom from a burden felt for a quarter century. No more needlessly worrying over a backwards individual's slant on my life and actions. While a lot of that still holds true (and is getting me through this) it's been severely altered since. She is still my mom and I will always love her no matter what. The lionshare of who I am (meaning mostly the good, but the bad as well) was directly plagiarized from her. While she often felt like I held my dad in higher regard than her, the truth was (and still sorta is) that I look up to her in most every way imaginable. While my dad is very nice and open, he's not very assertive and prone to getting stressed.. My mother is the picture of calm and strength (except when it comes to dealing with me) and I still try to exemplify the ideal caricature of her I have today.

The moniker of "Fat Toni" (as she is as authoritative, demanding, and scary yet relaxed as a mob boss) was anything but slanderous. This is still the portrait I paint of her to others. The Pinnacle Of Feminine Strength. And in a lot of ways nothing her present self does can ever sully this perfect portrayal of her. So while I still feel freed in a lot of ways there is an obvious and devastating sadness to surmount. This is, after all, my one and only mother we're talking about here.

Backpedaling and explanations aside, what she did is pretty much unforgivable. If she approaches it correctly and enough time has passed in between, I am near positive that I will forgive her. (Much like my sister.) But only if she asks. (Also like my sister.) At this point they are dead to me. Completely due to their own actions. I didn't want it this way, believe me, but alas I can not control everything. The sad part is her pride (again much like my sister) will probably prevent her from ever asking for forgiveness. Indeed she is probably reading these words right now feeling bitter contempt and seething rage. And all I can say to that is something she taught me a long time ago. "You made your bed, now lie in it."

At the risk of sounding dramatic pretty much the entire course of my life was swayed by this flippant decision of her's. Not just material possessions were cast aside. My career path and many other things have been caught in this maelstrom as well. And for that, a part of me will possibly forgive her, but will absolutely never forget for as long as I hold conscious thought in my brain. The one person in this world that I am supposed to be able to depend on, abandoned me. When all else fails, you have your mom. Not me. Not now. Not ever again. My trust is shattered and can never be restored. It is a one time only thing. While I might be civil with her in the future (not the least of which for the sake of my dad and Sami) we will never have the old relationship that we used to.

Point blank I think my mother is scared of me, and I think that her fear drove her to push me away.

So now where do I go from here?

I'm living with my girlfriend and I've got my license back, but my bank account is still in the negative, my car has a flat and I've yet to secure employment. Things are better than they were, but by no means ideal.

At what point does striving for a goal become more foolish than abandoning it?

I lost my ultimate goal in life some time ago. I wish I could blame it on this singular event, but I can't. Though it has certainly contributed greatly. I know all the little things I still want from life, (entheogens, Japanese culture, a gym membership, real whole food, to positively impact those around me, fame, freedom, some world travel, constant learning, constant improving in all three fields: spiritual, mental, physical) but I have forgotten the end goal. If I am currently lavishing looking at the stars on my way to the moon then consider that I have forgotten where the moon is, what it looks like and the fact that I'm even going there.

I love comedy and I love consciousness exploration but I can't fathom either of those blossoming into standalone career paths for me. They will certainly attach on to whatever I choose but I can't rely on them alone. Day in and day out one thing continuously stands out to me. One path screams at me. One path I've barely begun down but am extremely excited to follow. Movies.

Every time I watch a good movie I am energized. Moreover even if I watch a horrible movie. As long as I am not indifferent to it, movies motivate me. Good ones inspire me to catch up/keep up and bad ones inspire me to surpass and show how it's done. I am severely aware that I am simply talking to myself here but, there has only ever been one choice for me for what to do when it comes to my life. Make movies.

To me, it's the only thing worth doing on this Earth as a main source of income. I have trouble working for companies or bosses that I don't understand or sympathize with, but creating visual fiction with a band of individuals that share my goal sounds like heaven to me.

Maybe I'm not as lost as I thought....

There is another thought/fact that came to me a few days ago and has been working wonders to calm and focus me again: I have always been (and will probably always be) a late bloomer.

From where I was born in the Gregorian calendar, to the epoch I was born into, from the late age I first spoke to even hitting puberty years later than my peers. But that late puberty and the delay in speech held apparent reason: when it rains, it pours. I may have spoken later than my peers, but I began speaking in full grammatically correct English. No coos, no ma-mas or da-das. My parents were beginning to get worried that perhaps I was slow. Until one day... "May I have a cookie, please?" "You were biding your time." My mother said. From complete silence to full sentences. Puberty. While everyone else was getting chest hair and beards and growing taller I was seemingly following the same path as my father. Literally a single chest hair (I had a song about it), sparse leg and underarm hair, a shadow of moustache and nothing else. But when puberty DID hit, it hit like a ton of bricks. I went from zero to manly nearly overnight. To this very day in my outward appearance it is painfully obvious that I practically bleed testosterone. And this being from a person who had resolved himself to being beardless, hairless and puny for the rest of his adult life.

I have to remember that I'm ALWAYS late. ALWAYS. It's one of those things that makes me who I am. However, while I am usually late, I also usually go above and beyond. Far surpassing those that "arrived on time". This thought is quite comforting to me. Like a warm blanket. Heck I didn't begin lifting or smoking marijuana until my late teens and yet when I did.... BOOM. I went full tilt. With lifting, I went from 181 lbs. at 12.5% bodyfat to 225 lbs. at 9% in under 6 months. Steroid-free. I meticulously planned my workouts, absorbed knowledge from every available source (especially trial and error), fastidiously monitored my nutritional intake and constantly fine-tuned. One of my nicknames at the gym was "The Mad Scientist". Due to my stacks of notebooks chronicling my daily diet and fitness regiments. When I commit to something, I commit to it fully. I go hard. I was resolutely against marijuana and other substances that I was foolishly taught were "drugs" as a teenager until I moved to California and had my consciousness expanded and the truth revealed, and since then I've become a regular shaman. I own scores of books, I've read countless articles online, joined forums, done hundreds upon hundreds of hours of research on the subject, I ingest anything that can educate me about entheogens greedily and thankfully. I've smoked copious amounts of cannabis in different settings, quantities and potencies. I went on to explore alternative methods to smoking; vaporizing, oral consumption, etc. I've taken a variety of psychedelics and been mindful from onset to several days later.

If I truly have cemented my life path (filmmaking) then nothing will stop me. I may be 25 and far older than I wanted to be when breaking into the scene, but I have to remember, it's all going to be worth it when I'm more well-known and more synonymous with movies than Steven Spielberg or James Cameron.

I will begin creating my New Mythology, here in Pittsburgh. I'm done fighting to break free from this city. If it wants me this bad, it can have me. ALL of me. Until it can't handle me anymore. Until I inevitably grow too big for it. I'll resume my writing, utilize my resources and friends, jump on stage at the improv, I will do whatever it takes to succeed.

"Don't let what you cannot do interfere with what you can do." - John Wooden

Alan Watts - The Real You

2010-09-12T16:35:00.000-07:00

dreamtimespace

2010-09-02T11:38:00.000-07:00

It's been a long time since I've felt compelled to write down a dream that I've had, but this one was just too trippy/vivid to pass up. To let dissolve back into the æther. This is also the first time in a while that I've felt like I was experiencing something, instead of actively creating it. Much like I sometimes do when I write fiction. All of us have realistic feeling dreams, I'm sure, but this felt less like a "dream" and more like being a roving "consciousness" or "perspective". Like I was somewhere else in time and space, maybe in a different shard of the multiverse, a piece of existence that splintered off from this "reality" long ago. Or maybe just very far in this universe's timeline.

In the beginning I was a uniformed officer, a female, going down to the surface of a planet. Not sure if I beamed down or took a physical drop-ship or what. When I touched down, there was a man with African features but blue skin (faintly fluorescently glowing a la Dr. Manhattan), also wearing a "starfleet" uniform. He was quite jovial and eager to show me something. He challenged me to a footrace. (Apparently I am keen on speed and racing on all planes of existence and in all manners of conscious experience, haha.) I of course accepted. I kept pace for just a few moments before he was able to reveal what he was so excited to show me. He zoomed off ahead in a blur, and moments after leaving my line of sight returned running the exact opposite way. He remarked, "I just ran around the entire planet 30 times."

I don't know if I was told in words or if I just understood it, but the planet was giving certain crew special powers.

Around this time two things happened simultaneously, as they only can in dreams' nonlinear dreamtime. Stuff just comes at you in a "ball of information" and you understand it free from sequence. Half-liberating/half-frustrating. Anyway, so on the one hand the event that I will describe after this one began occurring now as well as the one I am presently going to detail. I had flashed out of the woman's body/perspective and into a man's. One of the crew that had apparently been on the planet's surface for 3 days by himself with no communication to/from the ship. My/his uniform was showing obvious signs of wear/dirt and a clear cunning had developed in my/his demeanor. One of the giant "bugs" from the next part had dropped a small shelled creature of some sort, and through a method of flipping and reflipping it I was creating small maggot-like things inside a viscous liquid in the shell which I understood to be edible. As I was eating the foul tasting things I was looking at the drop point where the rest of the mostly female crew were set atop Chocobo-style giant birds (that I can't too clearly remember) idling in place in much the way a rider on a horse does, and they were complaining about their 3 hours sequestered from communication with our ship. I felt contempt at their menial cries of "I'm hungry." and "I'm bored." as I remembered my past three days of survival. Survival without attaining any powers, I remind you.

Now at the same time that little sequence was goin' down back in the female's body I was experiencing the following. Shortly after the glowing crewman returned the ground began shaking and vibrating. A horde of something was clearly on its way. Na'vi-like alien natives begain arriving in droves on giant bug-like creatures. They were like round millipedes. Huge furry "lids" with numerous legs around the rim. Large enough for humanoids to ride on. From afar they slaughtered a good many of the crew with long-range weapons. As they drew close, however, a curious happenstance took place. Simply being in close proximity to any member of the crew was electrocuting them. It appeared quite painful, and was largely the reason they retreated. Their skin could be seen short-circuiting in and out of Predator-style invisi-camo. It also appeared to be biological rather than technological.

Back in the man's body, we all began experiencing nightfall. And what a gorgeous sight it was. Words will certainly fail to fully describe what I saw. As the light left the sky, several planets became visible. The first of which was turning blood-red in country-shaped segments from top to bottom. On the planet's horizon a twisted city came into view. It was very far off, and looked to be built with primitive materials but with advanced architecture. Skyscrapers of adobe and wood. All twisted like the cream swirling in coffee. The word seems trite and I feel glib resorting to it, but the only way this can be described is: trippy. We didn't know if the city was actually convoluted that way or if it was some optical illusion being caused by the planet. The darker it got the easier it was to see other planets in the night sky. These next ones that came into view were a far cry from the Mars like one from earlier. They had huge squares and rectangles all over them. Some were just dotting the surface like pixels, (think digital camo), while others were huge protrusions off the planet's surface rivaling the planet in size. It was clear something intelligent had done this.

I began "flashing" away from the planet. Captain Picard was giving a speech on the ship and I was viewing the actual happenings directly in space. Galaxy-size machines were harvesting planets a la the machines in The Matrix that were harvesting fetuses. A giant claw type apparatus, large enough to grip a planet like one with sufficiently sized hands might grip a basketball, was rolling planets in space, to and fro and depositing them into machines. Linear time REALLY falls away at this point for me as many of the following events/experiences all seemed to happen at once. I will do my best to sequence them in a way that can be understood.

On the ship the Captain was haranguing someone on the coming Singularity. And event he referred to as the "Zero Point". (Which I will be using from now on.) He outlined basically what I said in my previous blog post: that humankind (nay intelligent consciousness) is moving towards completely connecting the known physical universe and then willfully disseminating it.

Somewhere else on the ship I was settling down into a mechanical chair bathed in a red-orange light that was hooked way high up into the ceiling and not touching the ground. When the light hit you normal vision ceased to be. You could see in all directions at once. 360 degrees of visibility. Something I will never be able to describe so I won't even bother. (It'd be like explaining colors to a blind person.) Well what I experienced was understood as normal run-of-the-mill late-night "TV". It was multi-colored women, naked or in various stages of undress and equally as many varied poses. A bit banal, but when taken in this format, exciting nonetheless.

Seated somewhere near me was a woman that I had a sexual experience with at some point in time, but exactly when I couldn't tell you.

She resembled some female celebrity whose name escapes me at the moment. She had dark hair and very thin Nordic features. Very pretty. Very attractive/alluring. Very upper-class. Body and mannerism wise she resembled Miss Parker from The Pretender. She had a professional business woman's attire on and was somewhat elegantly smoking a cigarette. We got into an argument about her smoking around others and then there was some paddle-play and heavy sexual tension. I don't think any actual sex occurred, but it was still a very sexy experience.

This is all going on as the machine is harvesting world's and the captain's giving his speech and as scenes of the next big "act" are flashing around montage-style as well.

Suddenly I am someone (not sure of gender though I wanna say male) and I'm in a room in a hospital with a group of people setting up futuristic camera equipment. An older woman with a stark white bob and bangs is showing signs of irritation and frustration at loading the "film" into the "camera". They were small clear rolls resembling packing tape. It was understood that loading them improperly exposed them and rendered them useless. It was also understood that this was a difficult task. I gave her a very sympathetic hug and calmed her down, reassuring her that I would have someone bring up and entire case of the stuff later.

We were setting up for a shoot of the event that will punctuate this dream and is indeed also its climax.

There were many smaller events that occurred during this, like catching eyes with a female patient, and being "caught" by another female patient, but in the name of brevity I will gloss over those.

I was a doctor and walking through the hospital. I'd already seen/witnessed what happens later, rather was experiencing it while also doing this, but I'm pretty sure this chronologically occurred first. I was in a room with an older doctor and someone else and a writhing patient on a bed. She had an electrode reminiscent of a headphone plug fitted into her temple. She was delirious and spouting off gibberish, but very much alive. Whether or not her state was drug-induced or part of some ailment is unknown to me. Knowing what was about to happen to her, I was there to effectively resign my position and wash my hands of it.

In the dream I just knew how what I was going to do would be received and that's why I did it. I had on a futuristic lab coat zipped all the way up to my neck. I began slowly and purposefully unzipping it. The older doctor's eyes widened. He began speaking, "You know that anyone who has ever removed their jacket has not finished my course, right?" I nodded assent. He looked at me with eyes that asked, "So you would still remove your jacket?" My eyes said "yes." back to him. I went on to tell him that I wanted to have nothing to do with this even if it meant my residency/career. He looked disappointed/angered but allowed me to leave.

In the room that had been set-up to record everything a group of doctors outfitted in the appropriate sterile gowns and adorned with futuristic goggles, mechanical arms and such were all poking and prodding and crowded around an operating table. On the operating table was the young woman from earlier. The lower half of her face was covered with medical paper or material or whatever and something was over her eyes as well. Her head was strapped down as were her hands, which were raised to be at nearly the same level as her head. The top of her head was cut open and several pulsating, glandular type organs were pulled out of it and attached to wires. From about two inches below her wrists and the neck down, the area of her body facing up was completely skinned. Muscles and tendons, shiny and shimmering in the light, oozing with blood and other body liquids, veins spiderworking overtop. Her rib cage was split open and her organs were exposed. She was writhing and squirming and very clearly awake/in pain. How aware of this she was I don't (and don't want to) know. The doctor I quit to is narrating, "This is the first live dissection of a human being recorded..."

This was all occurring as the captain was giving his speech, the planet-harvester was doing its work and we were on the surface of the planet.

Now at some point, either before this entire dream or perhaps intermingled with it (who knows) I also had a mini-dream where I was watching TV. There was a "Best Of" and/or "Most Extreme" style show for mixed martial arts on. Some guy was being billed as the victor but looking far worse for wear. Indeed he looked like he lost. Bad. A large gash on his head was so thick and wide it looked like a strip of flesh had simply been removed, but upon further inspection (and better camera angles) it was revealed to be hanging on still attached. Blood pouring down his face and body this was the least of his apparent injuries. His left hand also appeared to have been severed clean off. The gaping wound still generously issuing thick spurts of blood. Again, it was only an optical illusion, for when he raised both his hands in victory (quite oblivious to his injuries) you could see the hand was still attached and flopping around lazily on his wrist. As he raised and lowered his arms without any sign of caution or worry for the dangling appendage it swung to and fro according to each indelicate pose. All the while heavily spraying dark swathes of blood all over. To my relief everyone in the crowd seemed just as shocked as I was.

Like most people, typically, I am okay with simply letting my dreams fade upon waking. This one, however, I had the intense urge to capture in words. Again, it felt less like a dream, or something that science tells me a chemical cocktail in my brain is creating and more like I was transported to different times and places. Surreal and slightly off-putting but also spiritual and uplifting in a sort of way. Definitely gives credence to the whole dreams are reality and vice versa argument. At least to me. Maybe dreams are less a self-made acid trip and more an unanchoring from yourself and subsequently careening through different vibrations and dimensions....

One thing's for sure... one thing I've known for years... I definitely prefer dreams to reality.

I wish I could go back to sleep now...

8.22.10

2010-08-22T21:34:00.000-07:00

It has been quite some time since I've actually sat down and typed out a worthwhile blog entry.

Time to rectify that.

I think part of the reason I've fallen out of blogging regularly (besides acquiring a girlfriend and being surprisingly busy for someone who is unemployed) is because of blogging's tragic flaw: intimacy. Blogging is fun and indeed very therapeutic for me, yet I find it banal. There are some great epiphanies and revelations amidst the blatherings of my day-to-day existence, but the problem is that one needs to sift through the latter to find the former. A task I'm sure few (if any) are willing to do. It is (mainly) for this reason that I don't bother reading other people's blogs. While it does afford me (and others) a great many breakthroughs, it also requires sifting through the trivialities that populate the individual's life. I want my writing and expression to reach as wide an audience as possible, while at the same time remaining true to myself. As such I mainly desire to express myself through fiction and symbolism. And my chosen medium is the compact and complete experience of a feature film. I love writing, and I love stories, but I simply do not have the patience/talent to pen a novel. Furthermore, I gravitate toward the visual arts and see a great deal of meaning in physical transgressions, the descriptions of which in standalone writing come across as tedious and unnecessary. A picture's worth a thousand words, as they say... So while I don't plan to quit online journaling altogether, I do plan on granting it less priority in my creative endeavors. It's time to move toward these goals I claim to have.

A few years back, due to an unfortunate combination of two loophole laws, I lost my license for a period of two years. Those 2 years officially ended today. Approximately 2 years ago I was pulled over for speeding (admittedly guilty) 70 or 75 in a 55mph zone in Ohio. Ohio has a loophole law that any speeding ticket at or above 60mph automatically garners a reckless driving charge as well. This made my ticket exceed $400.00. Shortly thereafter I was pulled over back in PA, for something quite routine/trivial (rolling through a stop sign or the like) and I was affronted with the wonderful news that I was driving on a suspended license.

"Um, no. It's right here." I said to the officer.

He went on to inform me that PA has its own loophole law. Any driver with an outstanding out-of-state traffic ticket totalling $400.00 or more automatically has their license suspended in the state of Pennsylvania. Wonderful. So technically I was driving on a suspended license. This cause my license to be suspended for a full year.

Right around this time my parents were amid moving to Los Alamos, New Mexico and I had just secured a place on Neville Island. A place as secluded as it sounds. One day, after 3 days of not eating, the hunger gripped me and I attempted to make it to the market for sustenance. Not but 30 feet after I pulled out was I pulled over and given an additional year for driving on a suspended license.

"Why drive on a suspended license, dummy?" You may ask. "Why not have a friend or family member help you out?"

Well at the time, my parents were in New Mexico, my sister and I were not on good terms (foreshadowing), my girlfriend didn't have her license and my best friend Kevin lived quite a ways away.

"Why not walk? Or bus?"

Tried both of those, food went bad before I could get it home. Again, like I said, I was rather distant from anything other than industrial parks, housing and factories. Even so it was a poor decision, though I've allowed myself to excuse it due to being delirious from starvation.

Also around this time my sister totalled her car and was in desperate need of one. Being a nice fella this seemed like no-brainer. Why have my car sit out in front of my place taunting me and gathering dust when it could go to good use and help my sister? So I let her borrow it.

That was about 2 years ago. Much has transpired since then. I've known I was eligible to get my license back on 8.22.2010 (today) for well over a year, and as such so has everyone else in my life. I have been looking forward to this day more than anything. These past two years have been quite stressful. I took them in stride and stayed as positive as I could so as not to wallow in my sadness and let it eat me up during them, but the truth of the matter is they fucking sucked. Horribly. Imagine being 25 years old and not being able to provide for yourself? To have your well-being dependent on the willingness of others. What a nightmare. It was like being 16 again. Except not being in school. And expected to be support yourself. And not having the privilege of living with your parents. Again, I kept my head up and did the best I could, but inside I was slowly being chipped away.

A month or so back, as the date was drawing near, my sister came to me with a proposal. I could have the car back or she could sell it for me and give me half. I don't know how I didn't scoff right then and there. Damn nice-guy attitude. It only took a day or two for me to realize that I needed the car to secure a job and start paying back these debts I've accrued over the years and that even if I could do it without a car why would I give her half the money for selling my car? I told her plainly and simply, no thank you. I will just take the car back.

Enter the biggest, brattiest hissy-fit if I've ever seen in my life. Real or fiction. Warning: what you're about to read may taint your opinion of the entire human race. Or at the very least my sister and my immediate family.

With just a week or 2 remaining I get an e-mail (Yes, an e-mail. Not a visit. Not a phone call. Not even a text message. AN E-MAIL.) from her--- you know what? I'm not even going to bother recounting/summarizing it, I'll just copy and paste. I'll add my own parentheticals in brackets in green.

"Josh-

I need to make sure you understand this situation before I react… [Meaning reacting to my choice to just take the car back instead of selling it.]

First of all, when do you plan on taking the car? You say you need it to get a job but what about me? [At the time of reading this, I was homeless, jobless and still licenseless. But yes, let's think of others first. lol'd for quite a while] I HAVE a job and that car is my only means of getting to it. As much as I want to sell the car, it’s even more important for me to clarify to you that I planned on driving it until the beginning of December when I leave for NM, regardless of what we do with it after that. Are you even planning on giving me notice or do I just get shit on? I need time to make arrangements, and you should’ve expected that. [No bitch, you should've expected that. I'm already doing you a favor.]

I gave you the choice about the car because I wanted to give you the benefit of making the right decision. [Again, instert me lol'ing for like 2 hours] But the truth is, I think I deserve that car. [I am livid/in stitches at this point. The sheer audacity...] I know that when you loaned it to me over three years ago, it was supposed to be temporary, but you did tell me I could KEEP the car like a year and a half ago. I told you I was going to put money into it, which I have do a lot of, but only if I was going to keep it. You said you didn’t want it. And do you know how I found out that you were even interested in the car? [This was her one day waiting until I was high as a kite to just randomly say "This car is mine now." To which I did not even say a single word. I still had a year to go at this point so I saw no need to argue. If this was me transplanting ownership via omission, so be it.] Mom told me. You never even sent one of your fucking text messages to let me know you had changed your mind.

Beyond that, you view this as beneficial to only me. Like you are the only one who’s doing a favor. [OH YES. THANK YOU SO FUCKING MUCH. WHAT WOULD I HAVE EVER DONE IF I DIDN'T HAVE MY RETARDED FUCKING SISTER TO BEAT MY CAR TO SHIT. COVERING IT IN PITTSBURGH PENGUINS STICKERS, SMOKING CIGARETTES IN IT, AND JUST ALL IN GENERAL KICKING ITS ASS. OH WOE IS ME. WON'T YOU PLEASE HELP ME, KIND AND BENEVOLENT SISTER OF MINE? CAN YOU FIND IT IN YOUR HEART TO GRACE ME WITH YOUR RECKLESS DRIVING AND COMPLETE LACK OF HYGIENE?!] What would you have done with that car over these years? Where would you have stored it? And if it was stored, it would need a new battery and tires right now, and of course there’s inspection, registration, and insurance. I think I’ve helped you out as much as you’ve helped me with this car. Not to mention, all the other helping I’ve done for you since Mom and Dad moved. [Getting me high.] I’m there WHENEVER you need me. [Hahahahaha!] I took off work and drove downtown and paid for gas and parking to go to court dates with you. [She has NEVER, not even ONCE taken me to court. The one time I was stupid enough to try to depend on her she was over an hour late and I had to call a taxi that I certainly did not have the money for.] I have done everything that I could for you. Anything you or Mom has asked of me.

I feel like this could be the perfect opportunity for you to help me out. I NEED the money from that car. Clinton and I have $1900.00 worth of receipts for that car and that’s only the past 2 years. [Maybe you shouldn't have drove it like a goddamn bumper car, you fucking retard.] And that’s only receipts - so just the big parts and without any labor because Clinton and his friends do it. Here’s a chance for us to make some of our money back, AND I offered you half, which I think is more than generous.

But what really pisses me off, is what the fuck are you even going to do with it? WE can’t afford to fix all that it needs to get inspected, how the hell are you? Plus it’ll cost double for you to do it because you will have to take it somewhere and pay for labor. I don’t know if you think I’m lying to you or what, but I told you everything it needs, and we both know it’s not even in the realm of possibility for you to do it. And have you gotten yourself insurance? I bet that’s going to cost you a pretty penny with your record… so seriously!?!? What are you thinking? Why would you pass up an opportunity to pay me back and put a little money in your pocket to take on an investment that you CAN NOT afford?

And what the heck is getting a car going to change things so you can work? You lived in Cory with 10,000 places you could’ve walked to and worked at.

I want you to really think about this and then e-mail me back and we’ll go from there. I don’t want to threaten you, but I’ll tell you right now that it’s going to get very ugly if you go through with this… [Are you fucking kidding me?! Did she just passively-aggressively threaten me if I take my car back? Absolutely unbelievable.]"

I already said most of what I want to say on the matter in my asides, but unfortunately there's more. It didn't stop here...

Now before I actually decided to read that e-mail, I tried my hardest to follow in the footsteps of Buddha and Jesus. At a glance I could see it was ludicrous and was only going to upset me, so I decided not to read it. On the sheer principle of her being difficult about giving my car back to me, I called my support group. I called the two people whose manner of protocol in these type of situations I respect above all others. My Father, and Kevin. Both confirmed what I already knew in my heart. Be nice, be civil, but take care of yourself. Since about March of this year I have been officially homeless, jobless and licenseless, so getting my license/this car back is a precursor for me getting my life back. I had resolved myself to take the car back sometime after the 22nd but to let her use it until then.

Now at some point my curiousty got the better of me and I broke down and read the e-mail. You can imagine my real-time reaction. Pure Rage + Utter Amusement. It was about 10:15 at night or so, and I had been actively sharing this entire ordeal with my girlfriend. I decided that in her unstable state, she was not to be trusted and that I was going to get the few things I had stored at her place back from her, lest she use them to blackmail me in the future. Christie supported this plan and offered to ride me over. The whole car ride over she was excited and itchin' for a fight. Not so much to get into one, but to see one. As she so accurately put it: everybody likes to see that kinda shit. From the outside I can't really blame her. But I told her [and myself] that this was not going to be a confrontation. And that indeed I was going to do everything in my power to prevent a conflict from arising. Lastly, we were not going over there with the express agenda of getting my car back, as I was still to be without a license for around a week and because (against better judgement) I am still a nice person. (Something life seems intent on beating out of me.)

We arrive circa 10:30-10:45 and right as we pull up we watch the lights go out. As I'm walking up to the door I can see the blades of the fan still spinning with steadily decreasing speed. I knock politely. Her boyfriend, Clinton, answers the door.

"What? What are you doin' here, man?"

"Hey buddy, I know it's late. I'm sorry. I just got this e-mail from Taylor and it really upset me. Made me worry about my things. Would you mind if I just grabbed 'em real quick and then took off? Won't take but 2 minutes tops."

"No way, man. It's late. We're in bed. We can do this tomorrow."

"Haha, I understand, man. I'm sorry. But I'm just really not comfortable having anything here--"

He begins trying to shut the door on me.

"You can get them tomorrow." His voice raises, "Now get your foot out of my doorway and get the fuck out of here."

"Clinton, I am going to leave my foot here, because I am not leaving without my stuff--

"Get the fuck out of here!"

"Listen, man. Just calm down, quit raising your voice, quit swearing at me, lemme just---"

"Fuck you! You don't tell me what to do in my own goddamn house! Now get the fuck out of here before I call the cops!"

*snap*

I now go from 0-60 in negative 2 seconds. All the stuff I've been holding in, breaks free. Comes pouring out, uncontrolled.

"GO GET MY FUCKIN' BOXES, RIGHT FUCKIN' NOW, AND MY GODDAMN KEYS OR I AM GOING TO SMASH YOUR SHIT!" (What that last part means, even I don't know, haha. I was in a rage.)

"Now I am going to call the cops."

"PLEASE DO, MOTHERFUCKER! THE CAR'S IN MY NAME YOU FUCKING RETARD, WE'LL SEE WHO COMES OUT ON TOP!"

I relinquish my foot from the door and proceed to dial the police.

My sister can be heard inside pleading with Clinton, "Please don't call the cops. Please put the phone down, baby. Please hang up." Christie hangs silently in the shadows, I imagine terrified out of her mind. I rarely raise my voice/swear at people as I take receiving said actions very seriously. I try to resolve all matters civilly and calmly, but there comes a time and a place (and a pair of retards) where calm logic does not prevail and brute male force is necessary. I reach the station and calmly profess, "Hello. Yes. I need an officer to come out to help resolve a domestic disturbance. ["Sir, are there any weapons present?"] Oh my no.["The address?"] xxx xxxxxxx avenue. ["Someone is on the way, sir."] Thank you."

Shortly after this, I get a phone call from my mother, who is already amid a full scream at full volume. I peel the phone away from my ear but make out the following:

"JOSHUA! YOU GET AWAY FROM THAT HOUSE RIGHT NOW! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU ARE DOING THIS TO ME! IF YOU GO THROUGH WITH THIS YOU CAN FORGET ABOUT NEW MEXICO! YOU CAN FORGET ABOUT YOUR PARENTS! WE WON'T HAVE A SON!"

My calm has returned. A smile cracks across my face. Christie is smacked back to reality by this hilarious phone call as well. Is this the Twilight Zone I say to her? We both have a good laugh. I hang up on her. I ignore a couple more calls from her and then ones from my Father and Youngest Sister as well. Feeling more confused and fortified than ever. I will not leave without getting my car keys. I am of the mindset that you NEVER involve the police. For anything. ESPECIALLY family matters. I have a strong distrust of authority and government institutions. But I could see that reason and force were not enough in this situation and simply had to swallow my pride and call for backup. Few people will ever know how much it pained me to make that call.

The police arrive, Christie and I calmly explain the issue and they go to get Taylor and Clinton's side of the story. They return saying that they are willing to give it back in the morning, sans battery. Apparently they had recently installed a battery and were going to take it out before returning it. Per the Police and Christie and my Heart's advice I decide to try to handle the matter without involving The Fuzz and by keeping it in the family. I call my Father (the rational one of the pair) and discuss the matter. Point out the audacity of her taking the battery when I lent her a working car with a working battery. Suddenly my parents go back to wanting to be hands-off. This is their normal policy until something threatens to embarrass them. Appearance is everything to their generation and if the rest of their family got wind of this dispute it would crush them. I try to handle it myself, and they threaten disowning me to get me to stop. I ask for help in the matter and they tell me to handle it myself.

I am Buddha. I am Jesus. I say to myself. I take a big deep breath and call my sister, knowing (and hoping) that it will go straight to voice mail. It does. I leave her a voice mail telling her if she is willing to leave the battery in that I am willing to look past this and let her hold on to the car until the 22nd, and that like before, until she makes arrangements otherwise and until I am unable to do so, that I will provide her rides to and from work indefinitely, as long as she pays for gas. I hang up. Feeling calm. Centered. Goodly. Shortly thereafter I get a voicemail from her telling me they are definitely taking the battery and that they are going to call in an abandoned vehicle after doing so and that if I somehow manage to get a battery there and installed and have a legal driver drive off in it that they will still call the cops and inform them that an uninsured vehicle is on the road. They paid for the insurance, naturally, and after this debacle, in their twisted little minds saw fit to immediately cancel it.

*sigh*

People just won't let me be nice, will they?

I try so hard. So again, I turn to my Father. I call him, relay the info. He tells me they are idle threats. I assure him they are not. He assures me they are. I request his help in resolving the matter. He denies. I do what was once unthinkable in my mind and face him with an ultimatum. Help me handle this, or allow me to handle it my way. Again he denies. Disheartened, I do what I have to do. I call and leave her another voicemail. Bitch wants to play hardball? I'll show her why I'm credited as its inventor. I tell her if she doesn't leave that battery in and leave me alone and promise not to call the cops that I will ruin her life. I say firstly that If she calls the cops on me, that I will call the cops on her and that she has plenty of paraphernalia in the house, and if that is not enough to scare her I go on to reiterate that I am homeless, jobless, licenseless and apparently familyless. I am a man with nothing to lose. I told her I would call her work as frequently as is humanely possible and complain about her until she was fired.

*bring bring*

My father calls to tell me that they will be leaving the battery in. That's what I thought.

I try my hardest to be nice and kind and fair, but it seems that people just aren't happy unless I punch them in the fucking face and show them who's boss. By no means am I proud of my actions, but I am proud of the results.

Now with this drama at hand two new heads of the hydra appear. Firstly, I need to have proof of insurance on all vehicle registered under my name in the state of Pennsylvania in order to get my license back and secondly, in the aftermath of my mother's reaction I am heavily reconsidering moving to New Mexico. Free school/shelter or not. Other than my Dad and youngest sister (and a few choice cousins) I don't really want to have anything to do with my family any more. Unfortunately that would mean having to rough it out if I stay here in Pittsburgh. It would be a long hard road back to my feet if I had no one else to rely on except myself and a few friends. Could end up being quite some time before I can achieve my goals. Which have changed/gotten hazy.

I know I definitely want to be involved in filmmaking, and I definitely want to continue learning about Japan and entheogens. But I am less sure of how to make these things happen. I am also not even sure I want to be a father any more.

I have been talking about a lot of really real and visceral things in my life, but let us not forget I am a crazy person. 2012 and my 27th year are drawing ever-closer and their heralding arrival seems to be throwing things into a whirlwind of confusion. I have never thought the world would Armageddon end in 2012 but I have always felt it will bring about change. Not so much The End Of The World, but rather The End Of The World As We Know It. Whether it is merely personal change or worldwide change remains to be seen.

I watched 'Field Of Dreams' the other night and the end message (besides "go the distance" and "follow your dreams") I took away from the film is that we all just want to connect with our Fathers. Whether we are their sons or daughters and whether or not they are biologically related to us. That is of course also carrying the spiritual implications of a "Heavenly Father". So whether you want to see it as your flesh-and-blood Dad, God or some omniscient father-like projection of yourself, I think at the end of the day, all any of us is looking for is: the approval of our Fathers.

A while back I struggled with the very genuine consideration that I might be the Second Coming Of Christ and/or The Anti-Christ. (I wish I was making that up.) My Birthday (Christmas Eve), the influence of others (I couldn't tell you how many people have told me "You might be Jesus."), and the synchronicity of many forms of media lead me to this conclusion. (eg. thinking these things just before I began reading Chuck Palahniuk's 'Choke'. A book in which the main character goes through the same sort of scenario of possibly being Jesus.) Now, much like the main character of said book, I didn't just blindly begin thinking/believing this. It was a systematic revelation brought to me over a period of time and from varied angles/sources. Logic won out and eventually I came to realize how silly even entertaining those ideas was. While my overall conclusion was that I was certainly not Jesus or the Anti-Christ I still heavily believe that I have the power to change the world. For good or bad. Part of my thoughts on why I might be the Anti-Christ were that it never says in the Bible that he is willingly malevolent. Just that he will unite the world and be its downfall. Maybe he does so unwittingly/unwillingly? So I began to fear that while my intentions might be good, their ramifications may be bad. "The road to ruin is paved with good intentions..."

I have always been told I was gifted. Told I was meant for more. Praised. Encouraged. Looked up to. And it has always felt somewhat like 'The Lord Of The Flies'. Like I was being thrust into a leadership position governing clueless fumbling children, WHILE STILL REMAINING A CLUELESS FUMBLING CHILD MYSELF. I'd be lying by omission if I didn't profess to still feeling this way on some level.

Whenever whoever coined the term 'Delusions Of Grandeur' did so, they did so for me. I am the finest example of this I have ever known. My delusions have transcended merely believing myself to be Jesus or the Anti-Christ. I am now (on some levels) convinced that I am God, Yes, you read that right. Yes, it sounds crazy. It is. I am. I am well aware of all these things.

I was watching a program on serial killers the other nights and the host/professor of renown was categorizing them into levels of evil. 'Most Evil' (also the title of the show) was level 22 (my lucky number). I found that, as far as their ability to manipulate/control others with their charisma/intelligence, I shared a lot in common with many of history's most famous psychopaths. Hitler, Manson, etc. There was however, one profound difference: the urge/desire to kill. I am very much like these men except I do not wish to maim/torture or kill people. (Well most of the time, but who doesn't occasionally.) But never past that normal level of just feeling depressed/forgotten and wanting to end the entire world. It's a typical reaction for us narcissists. When we feel wronged by society, we tend to lash out. The difference in my case is, I rationalize before doing something stupid. That's not to say that some catastrophic event in the future might not push me to eradicate the Earth. But that's on the low end of things, my break from reality goes further... much further... indeed THE FURTHEST.

In Zen, we are taught (and we understand) that there are no two things. We have risen above duality. There is no good or bad, no black or white. One cannot exist without the other. A woman is raped at a young age and because of her trauma goes on to found many helpful institution for similar victims across the nation. A "bad" thing becomes "good". A man hits the jackpot for $300 million and is subsequently robbed and harassed numerous times by numerous people until he has less than he did before he "won" the lottery. A "good" thing becomes "bad". Good and evil are a matter of perspective. I've always wondered how those that believe in a singular all-powerful all-knowing deity could also believe there was a force of "evil" to oppose "him". If "he" is as all-powerful as you say "he" is, shouldn't "he" have accounted for this? That's because they are one in the same. God and The Devil. "God" is merely the Force or Law of the Universe. If your God is one side of the coin and your Satan is the other side of the coin, my God is the coin. Kay, now that you too are free from duality (haha, I hope) let's move on...

We are moving toward something. But what? A singularity. It could be purely spiritual, it could be purely scientific, I think it is both. And I want it. BAD.

Basically without rehashing what you can find on the wiki page, it's going to be the culmination of an event that has been in process for millions of years. Maybe even forever. In fact this may be how the Cycle of Birth And Death Of The Universe in some Eastern Religions actually physically happens on our plane of existence. At some point soon we are going to create an AI so smart that it actually has the ability to increase its own intelligence. And thus it will do so exponentially. Compound that with the likely development of mind-uploading and you've got a recipe for success/disaster. See, when people like me (or maybe just me, depending on how willing you are to feed into my ego-centric bullshit) get uploaded, we are likely going to fuse ourselves with these self-improving forms of AI. If we chose to have physical bodies they would consist of thought-controlled nano-machines able to configure themselves anyway we saw fit. Dreams represented in reality. Once these beings or this being (lines begin to blur at the point) starts assimilating others, the collective will grows outward. Our own planet will be transformed into one uber-organism, completely connected in every way, and will being branching outward. In what might take a few hundred years, or only an instant, the entire Universe will be assimilated. We will be One again. One giant being. Or a continuum of beings. Again, common definitions of life and individuality begin to fall away at this stage. Ah, but there's the rub. Someone (again, likely me) is going to assert that they are different. They are special. They are apart from the rest. Which will probably cause "Us" to willfully split up again. This event, spanning all of a nanosecond (if that, because of our superintelligence) will culminate in the complete joining of every atom in our Universe and the willful decision to split apart, likely resulting in a "second" "Big Bang". Or third. Or sixty-second. Who knows how many times we've done this? Or if there is a way to break out of it.

I certainly don't. All I know is: I am completely overwhelmed by the thought that literally anything is possible.

2010-07-19T18:05:00.001-07:00

Click here to get ordained.

I think, therefore I am.

2010-07-07T20:55:00.000-07:00

Cromartie High School (Live-Action Adaptation)

2010-07-07T18:46:00.000-07:00

GAMEBOY

2010-07-02T14:57:00.000-07:00

2010-06-30T22:22:00.001-07:00

Potential bedroom setup

2010-06-30T21:30:00.000-07:00

I'll tell ya what. Switch the TV out for an HDTV, gimme a big stack of fluffy white towels and tell me I'm allowed to be naked the whole time and you gotta done deal. Sign me up. Today. Now.

Hayaku: A Time Lapse Journey Through Japan

2010-06-08T01:54:00.000-07:00

Hayaku: A Time Lapse Journey Through Japan from Brad Kremer on Vimeo.

Osaka Bang

2010-06-08T01:43:00.001-07:00

Cinnamon Chasers - Luv Deluxe

2010-06-08T01:26:00.001-07:00

Bill Hicks - Revelations

2010-06-08T01:24:00.000-07:00

Carl Sagan Music Videos

2010-06-08T01:20:00.000-07:00

FLAIRS - TRUCKERS DELIGHT

2010-06-08T01:13:00.000-07:00

2010-06-08T01:05:00.000-07:00

Life is good. (EPIC APRIL)

2010-04-12T19:34:00.001-07:00

.. If you look at it that way.

EPIC APRIL, is right.

Got a cuddle buddy that might blossom into more, food to eat, entheogens to utilize, access to internet, healthy body to run in. LIFE IS GOOD. Acting in movies, doing voice-over work, meeting new people, playing video games, helping when and where I can, being responsible. Working and relaxing. Enduring and playing. Struggling and thriving.

I AM HAVING SO MUCH FUN AND GETTING SO MUCH DONE.

Karma? Around this time last year for the past few years I've run into some bad luck. Is this payback? Either way, I am thankful and appreciate it. it's very nice.

My prayer:

MY LORD IF YOU WANT ME TO WORK, MAKE ME STRONG ENOUGH TO DO SO

That's all I ask. I will serve the greater good of the universe. If I can. And be aware that I have.

UH-OH PYRAMID HEAD IS COMING, RUN AWAY!!!

Sorry, there's air-raid sirens in ma neighborhood. They're a bit scary sometimes. Especially when I was on The Island.

I'm just sort of cerebrally vomiting here, so..... I'm going to publish my semi-"sad" blog draft I was sorta thinking about NOT posting, and then I'll publish this one. Then, hopefully, it's on to something productive.

Hello ladies, hello work.

2010-04-08T22:17:00.000-07:00

Wow.

I have been SUPER BUSY as of late.

I'm busy RIGHT NOW.

Multi-tasking has become the name of the game for me. Multi-task well or die. If I'm not doing at least two things at once, I'm falling behind. Work, women, makin movies, serving the community, writing, maintaining myself, and much much more. Thankfully I'm officially past the halfway point with my community service. I thought I already was, but I was mistaken. Today tipped me past the half way point. Saturday I go in to do a 10 hour day hopefully. And then also hopefully from here on out I'll just do 10 hour days. That way I'll only have 10 left. Nice. Even. Easy. Multiples of 10. 10 10 hour days. Sates my OCD so well...I can't wait to be done with it entirely.

Right now I am doing laundry, talking to this girl I met through making a movie, and writing this blog. Along with other activities that should merely be assumed. (Respiration, blinking, being awesome, etc.)

On the girl front, just like everything else it has gone from 0 to 60 in negative 5 seconds flat.

I went from sitting on my ass for the larger portion of the day, alone, with no real responsibility, obligation or a person to share my "nothing" with to being active from sunup to sundown and affronted with a variety of choices.

The streak has ended.

I've been doing a lot of activities considered to be either hippie-esque, Japanese or a combination of the two. And I gotta say, I like it.

Taking it easy in the gym and life in general has turned out to be pretty hard.

I'm sort of entertaining the thought of ignoring my blog, facebook and twitter until I've made some more progress in my writing (which I've been neglecting as of late). I complain that I never have any time to write, yet I pretty regularly (even with how busy I am) find time to facebook, twitter, or blog. Sometimes on the go. Time to get like that with writing. Time to get more serious about my writing. Time to get more serious in general.

TIME TO GET SERIOUS.

LAID OUT

2010-04-03T06:22:00.001-07:00

Taking it easy is hard.

I'm obsessed with speed, power, strength and the like. More. Bigger. Faster. Better.

I've lost sight of relaxation. Well now my body and subconscious are forcing me to relearn its values.

I've been neglecting my blog, and my twitter and my writing in general. In my defense I've just been through a lot. Things are only just settling down now. I'm reclined on a couch equipped to do so, headphones on, netbook on my 'acid blankie' and both on my lap. I'm quite hungry, but moving is a chore because of the foolish actions of my past incarnation. I was performing Bent-Over Rows on thursday and on the last rep of my last set I broke form to get another rep. I really hope I haven't done myself any lasting damage. Life is determined to wrestle my pride away from me. (Here's the trick... I don't ACTUALLY have any.) In my opinion Pride is the Original and Most Dangerous Sin. Greed is a close second. Every other sin can be traced back to one of these two.

The World Is Not Enough.

In the vain of endeavoring not to endeavor so much, I'm going to cut this entry short and really try to enjoy my downtime today and the rest of this weekend. It's back to the grind on Monday and I need to be well-rested and healthy before then. Can't let a bum ankle force me to quit my marathon. Just gotta hang out here on the sidelines for a bit and not go too hard on it when I resume. Easier said than done. I need to remember that in the Marathon Of Life there is no prize for finishing quickly. A finish line is a goal to aim for, not the entire reason for running.

I know exactly what I want from life

2010-03-21T14:11:00.000-07:00

In no particular order:
Plant seeds (real and symbolic) In the ground and in people's minds.
Find my wife.
Have kids.
Help the world.
Fight for my causes and beliefs and to protect those that cannot protect themselves.
Make movies. Standalone entertainment with a message to those open enough to receive it. Visually kinetic and colorful.
Talk to people.
Talk to kids.
Be funny.
To inhale combusted cannabis freely.
Do entheogens, advocate education.
Eschew hard drugs, advocate education.
Work out, regularly.
Eat healthy. Eat clean. Eat fresh.
Be the best father I can be.
World-Famous Filmmaker/Philanthropist/Story-Teller/Comedian/Father/Bodhisattva
To be a household name.
I want a female partner.
I want to spend some time in Japan, rather I want to spend as much time in Japan as I want, East Asia in general, but specifically Japan.
I wanna live somewhere near fresh local food. Pre-prepared restaurant style and available at the market.
With a good deli and fresh fish. Fruits and veggies.
I wanna live somewhat near the ocean but not in danger of being flooded. A beach. And near a river and the mountains and the forest. A green one. With animals.
To positively impact those around me.

BRAINSHIT

2010-03-20T15:31:00.000-07:00

I need more fresh vegetables in my life. And fruit. And real meat.

I have things to say, I feel an intense need to express myself, and yet at the same time I feel woefully inept at doing so.

Such is life, I suppose. And the human condition. I don't suppose I'll supersede that until much later in life, if ever.

Channing Loftion? Where did you go? Do you still speak to God? [Pray]
Summon UFOs?

I saw a sleeping bee, today. Little buzzer musta been cold. Snapped a pic.

Choice and Sacrifice

2010-03-15T13:11:00.000-07:00

1:00 on Monday. I should be doing community service right now. Or packing. I called off. In a 'chicken or egg' moment I can't tell what caused which. Directly after calling off my stomach started to hurt. Could I have subconsciously anticipated this? Maybe. Psychosomatically created this? Again, plausible. Or perhaps a more mystical explanation is fitting? Maybe God is punishing me for Straying From The Path.

I know it seems bratty (because it is) but after 7 months of little more responsibility than a teenager not yet of driving age, one tends to grow spoiled. Getting used to watching movies, playing videogames, surfing the web and working out whenever I wanted has made my recent productivity feel laborious by comparison. My higher thinking knows I'm doing the right thing, and has me vowing to stay on track (which I will) but my lower human self needs a break.

Yesterday was Sunday and supposed to be my Day Of Rest. Of all the dogma and rules I've assimilated from organized religion over the years, there is but one hard and steadfast rule I ascribe to: there is to be no work done on Sunday. Sunday is the Day Of Rest. Early in my foray into the workforce, unavailability on Sundays was built into my rider. Filled out on every application. And I was generally a better worker because of it. I postulate that as long as you know you have one day of the week on which there are no responsibilities or obligations, during the rest of the week you will much more easily be able to push yourself. If your jogging in the desert, hoping to find water or civilization, you might wanna slow your pace, lest you never come upon it. Without the foreknowledge of its existence you must act carefully. But if said desert was equipped with an oasis every 2 miles or so, and you knew this, well running through it might become a game. You might even push yourself to see how fast you can clear the desert gaps in between each rest stop. The days of the week are no different in my mind.

Yesterday didn't go as planned (few things ever do). And as such my need to rest is spilling into Monday. It was your typical case of being so busy during the week with work (and community service in my case) that the weekends are the only time you actually have to get household chores done. Laundry, dishes, cleaning, etc. And again, in my case, packing. It kinda sucks when you've been pushing yourself for 6 days and then on your 7th you still have work to do, albeit located at your home instead of the office. I didn't get nearly as much packing done as I wanted to. Indeed, other than boxing up a few video game systems my only real accomplishments yesterday were bringing up boxes from the basement into my bedroom and clearing out a single draw of a beater chest I keep in the basement. Abysmal.

In addition to being swamped with things that simply need done I was left with a mental burden as well. One that was the main cause of my calling in sick today. After a few phone calls with friends and family and a lengthy one with my Mom it was decided that I should see if my grandfather would be willing to house some of my stuff temporarily. After going through a list of other family members my Mother arrived on him with glee and the explanation of "Well since your grandmother passed away and no one else other than your Uncle lives with him, he has that whole big house to himself. Plenty of room. Give him a call." After hearing that, I did a dangerous thing: I built up hope and expectations. My Grandpa is somewhere in the realm of 80 and lives in a pretty large house. This seemed a surefire bet. Something to bank on. Well after a short phone call with him that was shot down. Much to my chagrin. A few calls to random other family members tried to stop the bleeding but the damage was done. The blow had been dealt. My peace had been robbed.

I am not getting down on myself or saying that I'm giving up, I am just saying that I need a breather. Especially because this time around I know where my oasis lies and I have miles and miles of desert to trek before reaching it. Yes I am dealing with some hardships now but in actuality things are only going to get harder. And soon. I have to be out of this place in exactly a week to the day. Other than having a friend offer to let me crash on his couch I have no clue as to where the lion-share of my possessions are to go. Obviously when with him I'll be bringing the bare essentials, clothes, toiletries, etc. But a good many of my accumulations are still unaccounted for.

Again, I'm not losing sight of my goal or my path, I'm merely taking a moment to compose myself on a nearby bench. That bench in this case being this blog. I've been talking to a few professionally trained therapists lately, simply by chance, and in addition to being busy, my gushing to them seems to have sapped my need/desire to gush on here. They are simply friends and not being paid or actively striving to counsel me (nor I to them) but we inevitably end up doing so anyway. It's human nature. Background in psychology or not, it is simply how friends interact. We help each other through things. Before the field existed many of us got our therapy in (my opinion) a much more natural way. From friends and relatives. Closed loved ones. Not paid detached third parties. I'm not knocking the profession or devaluing its practices or practitioners (or patients), I am merely stating that it is a recent development in human history.

In much the way my fictional brothers, the pair Elric, have tried to cheat the system, I too am looking to have my cake and eat it too. I mean what's the point of having cake you can't eat? And how exactly does one eat cake that one does not have? That phrase has NEVER made sense to me.

"To obtain, something of equal value must be lost."

"Humankind cannot gain anything without first giving something in return. To obtain, something of equal value must be lost. That is Alchemy's First Law Of Equivalent Exchange." - Alphonse Elric (Fullmetal Alchemist)

Is this always this case? Is this the only way to gain? It would seem so. Alchemy and the symbolism of Alchemy seems to pop out in most aspects of my life. With cooking, the ingredients are sacrificed to make a complete dish. With bodybuilding/fitness, water, money, food, time, and energy are sacrificed to create muscle mass and performance. It's all there. It was seem to be an immutable law. It goes hand in hand with the concept that there is no such thing as a free lunch.

My Dad is a hardworking man. As most fathers are. I cannot even begin to imagine the sacrifices (both physical and mental) that man has given for the benefit of his family. For the benefit of me. For as long as I can remember my dad has been on the road. His presence at home was very rare and sometimes disruptive. Without getting into too many details I will outline a telling analogy. Much like me (like father like son) my dad is a very clean and organized man, and as such he would often clean during the time he was actually "stationed" at home. I say stationed because now that I think about it, it was similar to military leave. He is a Health & Safety Inspector and has been one for years. His duties (along with paperwork) mainly consist of supervising others in hazardous environments. Dealing with nuclear waste, etc. He came to this job at entry level, and being the man that he is quickly moved up the ranks. Unfortunately, many who hold his same position are trained. Have been to school. Have a piece of paper that says they know what they do. My Pops has no such paper. He only has his grit and his experience. Due to this he has largely been dicked around by the system for as long as I can remember. He'd spend 6 months away in Guam and then come home for 6 months. As a kid, 6 months is a very long time. Certainly long enough to make the man who contributed to giving you life feel like a stranger. My sister and I (my youngest sister had yet to be born) grew accustomed to our Mother's ways and (despite being a positively wonderful man, one of the best human beings I've ever known) when my Dad was home it kinda through things out of whack. Even for my Mum. Back to the cleaning thing actually, I can remember more than one phone call from my Mom to him where she grilled him about where he had put certain items during his stay. He was always putting things away in high or hard-to-reach places. At least high and hard-to-reach for women and children. For him it was simply organization and efficient use of space. He'd go to Ohio for 3 weeks and then be home for 2 days, New York for a month and a half home for 2 weeks. He travelled all around the country, and at times around the world. He had to go where the work took him. Like I said, I can't even begin to fathom how taxing that must have been for that poor man. (Or my mother.) 80 hour work weeks, sending the greater portion of his paychecks home to his wife and children, while he slept in hotels and lived on his per diem. The bare minimum. A superhero for sure.

Well about 2 years ago now (maybe longer or more recent, but I'll say 2 for the sake of argument) he got an offer for a permanent job in New Mexico. The job itself was a dream job. For him and my mother. Finally, this man who had been on the road for 15+ years simply to keep food in our mouths and clothes on our back was getting his due. And my mother, who after giving birth to a miraculous third child (one the doctor's say she should not have been able to have and hence earning my baby sis the nickname "miracle child" which was sometimes used derisively by my other sister and myself) had to also get and secure a job to contribute to raising us was also finally getting a break. Samantha is 5 years younger than Taylor and 7 years younger than me. Quite a gap for siblings and quite a gap for parents. At just the point where money was being shelled out for kids now aware of fashion and clothes and interested in and performing extra curricular sports and activities and such they now had to provide for a new born.

Honestly I don't know how they did it. Raising a baby is one thing. But doing it while also maintaing two elementary age children is a feat nothing short of a superhero status. My mother too, a superhero. Both of my parents, a duo of superheroes. The disparity only continued through the years. High-school age kids needing car insurance and help with new cars and rides to work, with an elementary age child attending choir practice and concert recitals. Just thinking about it makes my head spin.

My parents are simply amazing people and I could devote more than a few entries solely to them (and probably will) but I gave all this background to put a certain scenario into context.

When my Dad was offered this job that was well-paying enough that my mother would not have to work, it was again in New Mexico. That meant getting rid of possessions that couldn't make the trip and saying good-bye to most of the family that is settled here in Western PA.

I was well into my twenties at the time and for the most part independent, so this did not affect me as much as it did them. I had a job, a license, a car and soon my own place. I also had a girlfriend that I still consider to have been the love of my life. In addition to her there was my best friend Kevin and a slew of other people keeping me here. It was decided that I would stay. Despite my ability to remain behind with my other younger sister, who also stayed, I still felt for the sacrifices my parents were going to have to make. More so for my Mom than for my Dad. For my Dad this was a well deserved dream come true. He'd finally be able to go to work during the day and return to his wife and kids (well, kid) at night. Any one who knows him knows he's wanted this forever and moreover knows he's deserved it just as long. It was high time it happened. But for my Mom, the transition wasn't so easy. She had settled down. We lived on the street she grew up on, with one of her sisters occupying the actual house where she grew up. All her brothers and sisters (6 total including her) were within driving distance. Many within 5 minutes or less. She comes from a very tight-knit family and maintaining that closeness was/is crucial to her. Despite tapering off a bit after both of her parents passed away, her side of the family still regularly gathers for holidays, birthdays, weddings and the like. Something I think they all need. Including her. Moving to New Mexico for her would mean forfeiting all but one or two of these events. She could only attend when finances and my father's schedule would allow them to fly back out.

It has since struck a nice balance with her brothers and sisters (all well established adults) occasionally flying out to spend a week or so with her and my dad and sister, sometimes in tandem. Even so, the strain must still be enormous.

At the time when this was a bridge yet to be crossed, I instinctively knew I too would one day be crossing it.

My Dad from having lived on the road for so long and perhaps simply from being male is a much more mobile human being than my Mother. He is quite used to living on the bare minimum and making do with what he has. Only buying or acquiring what he needs as the need arises. My Mother on the other hand is a wonderful Mother Hen. She created an amazingly comfortable nest for herself and us there on Eastern Avenue. Filled with all the amenities you'd expect of a typical North American White Upper/Middle-Class family to have. Dog, cat, a car per licensed driver. Big screen TV, TV in each of the kid's bedrooms, a well-stocked kitchen (both in instrument and ingredient) which she frequently utilized to more than adequately provide for our needs and occasionally to entertain guests. She was established. Settled. In her element. Tasteful knick-knacks every where, drapes matching carpets matching couches and so on. And seasonal sets of each. I always teased her with "When the pilgrim and turkey salt n pepper shakers get put away, the snowman and reindeer ones are coming out." She had a seasonally themed item for most everything in the house and regularly rotated between them as the seasons passed.

All of this and her family would need to be left behind. She was moving into unfamiliar territory.

While I did sympathize with her greatly at the time I was maybe not as apt or able to show it. I was even a bit cold. Not because of anything like being an unfeeling psychotic, but because it simply did not apply to me. My mind could recognize the gravity of the situation and yet it did not affect me. Literally and emotionally. I have an Uncle that is particularly handy and oft called upon to supervise or undertake repairs to homes or cars within the family (I think everyone has an Uncle like that) and a few times I've been privileged (Or burdened depending on my age and outlook at the time) to work with him. He is a old-world man with old-world values but an intense sense of humor. That's a pretty accurate descriptor for most of my Mother's siblings and her side of the family in general, but particularly for him. Being the oldest of the 6 he is the quintessence of that dynamic. A cigarette-smoking, beer-swilling (in the past), country-music-listenin', handyman Zen Master. Again, I could devote an entire website to the gems I've heard fall out of this man's mouth. One of which being "Ain't my house." Said jovially but still meant in that truth said in jest sort of way. When something would go wrong with a particular project, say a piece of molding falling off a bannister, or a crack accidentally forming in a wall, he'd let out his hearty yet raspy, wheezy and guttural smoker's laugh and follow it with a "Hey, ain't my house!" More like 'hahs' this being Pittsburgh and all. He never meant it mean and almost always went on to repair the damage himself or to leave proper instructions for us to do so, but the care-free zen-like attitude has always stuck with me. At the end of the day, no, it was not his house. This was largely how I dealt with my parents shuffling thousands of miles off to the other side of the country and leaving prized possessions and family members behind.

"Ain't my problem." Again, I was not entirely unsympathetic nor am I a heartless individual, but the fact of the matter remained, it simply was not my problem. I had a car, a girl, a place, a job, a life. Here in PA. No sacrifices needed to be made. But even then I had a sense that eventually I would be pulled out there. In the back of my mind I knew that one day the sacrifices that they made, I too would have to endure. And here we are.

The West has always held a pull on me. I've lived there before and I continue to gravitate toward it. Well before my parents headed that way. Yes I am Tertium Quid and a mix of both East Coast and West Coast mentalities, but spending most of my adult life on this coast has left me enamored with the other. The grass is always greener. Much like I identify with the Japanese more than Americans, so to do I defer to the Left Coast. In much the same way I hold the French lifestyle in high regard above America's I also value the Californian mindset over Pennsylvania's. I am an East Coast, Pennsylvania Pittsburgh boy through and through and this part of the world will always feel like home to me, or at least serve as a base of operations but like many other men before me the cry of "Go West, young man! You're future is untold! You can find your dreams on the California Coast!" rings powerfully through my head and acts like a magnet to draw me in that direction.

There are several geographical (and cultural) locations to which I am drawn, in no order: The UK, France, Japan, California, Oregon, Pennsylvania and Australia. And I believe that the path to stepping on the soil of each of these lies in first heading West. Within the next five years I plan on being the next James Cameron or Steven Spielberg. More accurately the one and only Josh Vish. Yes I aspire to be rich and famous but those are only tertiary goals to my main causes. Making film, being a father and benefitting the world. As long as I get to do those last three I don't care whether or not the wealth and fame come. I simply desire them to facilitate my goals. And yes, maybe a bit out of ego. I want to make movies like Avatar, Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind, The Matrix, Fight Club, Into The Wild. Entertaining pieces of fiction that also serve as lessons to those willing to learn them. And I want to be the best father I can be. I also GREATLY desire to spend time in Japan, observing its landscapes and scenery, culture and people. That last goal is the most "pointless" or "self-indulgent" Ultimate Goal I have. I have been in love with Japan for quite some time now and I really want to see it up close.

As it stands now I believe that in order to achieve those things I must head West. I spoke about it in my last entry, but it's worth reiterating. I need to complete my legal obligations here, and then move forward (meaning West) with my life. I'm not getting any younger and I've already wasted a good bit of time being "lost", so it's high time I make my dreams a reality. Next to fulfilling the stipulations of my being legally able to leave the state I also need to further streamline my person. Mentally and materially. I have made great strides in both, incredible strides really (I shall have a hell of a "True Hollywood Story" or "VH1's Driven" if they still make either of those) but I still have more to make.

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep."
- Frost

Robert really put it best (and quite poetically), but that's where I am. I am battle weary and exhausted, ready to quit. And without a goal I would've likely succumbed to weakness and old ways by now. As it is, all actions I undertake, including calling off my community service today and typing this blog are with my Ultimate Goals in mind. To me this is progress. Forward momentum. I needed this. I didn't get it yesterday, so I'm taking it today. Writing centers me. It gives me peace. It helps me regain myself.

I already know this entry is coming to a close and with the end in sight I feel rejuvenated. Invigorated with purpose. Typing and re-reading this serves as a very long mantra, a re-realization of my goals. I am motivating myself.

I said I always knew I'd eventually deal with the dilemmas my parents had to deal with when they headed out West, and they are drawing near. I know I'll finish my community service soon and hopefully pay my own court costs, after that it's onward and upward. Well no, not after, continuing through that it's onward an upward. I'm like a train, slow to start and get up to speed but near unstoppable once it does. The difference between my symbolic train and a real one is that no stray pebble or wandering cow can derail me, my path is set, I'm the only one on the tracks and now that I'm moving, I'm not stopping until I reach my destination. I've accumulated a lot of things. Things that I like. Some self-made, some bought, and while in my more spiritual and Zen days it was easy to detach myself from them, in my self-actualized I-am-only-human-not-Jesus-or-Buddha-or-Satan, but-I-am-Josh-Vish days it's not so easy. I want what I want, and I can be extremely stubborn when in that mode. Stubborn is only biased as such when it leads someone to ruin, when it leads to success we instead say Driven or Motivated. Self-Assured. These are better terms for where I am right now.

What I'm saying is: if I have to get rid of my desk, my chest of drawers and my shelving, I will, but I really really really really really don't want to. I like them and I want them. The items inside them can be packed and eventually put into replacement chests, desks or on shelves, but as it stands I want the ones I have. I am prepared to make necessary sacrifices, but I'd rather not.

Hopefully in a few years I'll re-read this from a lightning-fast, top-of-the-line, state-of-the-art computer set atop a gorgeous desk, sat in a comfortable and supportive high-backed King's Throne style Executive office chair, in my office, in my house, that I had built, to my specifications, from the ground up, and I'll be thinking "How silly that I wanted to hold onto those old things. And yet how admirable was my determination."

X & Y

2010-03-09T08:47:00.000-08:00

X and Y.

X vs. Y

Two symbols typically used to represent something unspecified but understood not to be something else, usually used in mathematics. Our culture uses them to represent two other opposing forces as well. Male and Female. An apt representation, I'd say. At first glance, what jumps out at you about these two letters? If you didn't know which represented which, how would you assign genders to these letters? To me, it's immediately obvious. X is female and Y is male.

I mean just look at them.

X (open legs) Welcoming you in, splitting two decisions down the middle and alleging with neither.

Y (phallic) Plunging forward. Ahead. Taking two scenarios and whittling away one to pursue the other.

[Stereotypically] How we do define women? Emotional, unreasonable, indecisive. Every woman you have ever known has dragged you through a department store unable to choose between this and that. Most women I know do the same thing romantically. They date a man, while pursuing other interests and then leap-frog from one to the other until they find the best match. The grass is always greener.

Men, on the other hand? How do we "shop"? Normally a male knows what he wants before he even begins making moves toward it. We go to the store with one item in mind, acquire it (or a pre-calculated back-up if it is unavailable) and roll. Quick, clean, precise.

Now granted I know that not ALL women fit into the category outlined above and nor do ALL men fit the criteria listed either, but for the sake of argument allow me to cleanly split the two to identify their opposing forces.

This all goes back to my realization that every occupation a person can hold can be distilled down to one thing: decision-making. We pay people to make our decisions for us. Personal Trainers, Chefs, Film Directors, etc. When we give them our money, we are in essence saying, "Here, these options overwhelm me, make my choice for me."

So now, unfortunately with the seemingly negative connotation of suggesting that women or the female half is "wrong" or "evil", I proffer the following: X = the inability to choose and the subsequent downfall of "the system", while Y = the ability to weigh two options, decide on one and stay the course. Y, commitment. X, undecided.

Embark on a thought experiment with me, if you will. Picture an x as it is and then continue the legs for as long as you can. They will never cross paths, and as the distance between them grows, their overall length dwindles. Taken another way, if one were to fractal with the shape of an x, eventually everything would start running into each other and the whole thing would come crashing down.

Y, has one direction. Its line continued forward goes on for infinity. Fractal it, and you have a "tree". Growth. Sustainable growth than can be traced back to a single root.

I used to be known for my decisiveness. Next to my confidence it was one of my most prominent character traits. It defined who I was. While to the outside, that may have still seemed the case, to a select few and myself it was apparent that a few years back I became more X than Y.

Spoiled for choice.

I can trace this time back to when everything in my life started to go wrong. When I lost who I was and what I was doing and what I wanted to do with my life.

Recently I have reclaimed my Y. Self-actualized my Y chromosome.

When LOST first debuted, I identified the most with Jack. Despite holding Locke in high regard. While I see my overall character as more akin to Locke than Jack, I more relate to the circumstances Jack was thrown into when the plane first hit the island. The people chose him as a leader and then ridiculed his decisions. Choosing a leader is a scapegoat. A win/win. If he fucks up, you disagree with him, if he does well, you assert that you were integral in choosing him. I have dealt with this on some scale or another for my entire life.

Take the simple act of going out to eat. You've got four people in a car all going "I dunno, where do you wanna go?" Until someone picks (typically the most decisive member available) a person to choose. That person usually being me it goes something like this,

Person A
"Where do you wanna go?"

Person B
"I dunno, where do you wanna go?"

Person C
*shrugs*

Person A
"Let's ask Josh. Make him choose. Josh, where should we go?"

Josh
"We should go to X."

Person B
"I just went to X, how about Y?"

Person C
"Y is gross and X is lame, why not Z?"

Person A
"Z? haven't been to Z in a while..."

A, B and C in unison:
"Z it is!"

Josh
"WTF?!"

Why even bother asking me if you're just going to turn down my decision?! Because they needed a force to oppose. They couldn't/can't think of anything on their own, so they look to me to draw a line in the sand and then they use that merely as a reference point. To make choices relative to. Not the actual choice.

This conflict can happen inside one's head, and often does. Mine for sure.

I'm done with worrying about what I will miss out on, because doing that isn't getting me anything anyway. If someone puts a serving of pizza and a serving of chinese before you and tells you that you can only have one, you have to make a choice. It's one or the other. Not both. Can't make a choice? Then you go hungry. Sure I may be missing out on chinese, but fuck me running this pizza is delicious...

Have you ever noticed how easy it is to counsel someone's life from the outside? The whole time you are thinking, "Man, I'm like Dr. Phil, I should have my own show...." But your life is a wreck. Why is that? Why is it easier to make others decisions for them versus making your own for yourself? Because when it's for an outsider, you exonerate them of responsibility. They get all of the glory with no possible defeat. Disagree with your decision, and go their own route? They become independent, self-motivated. "I didn't need his stupid advice." *applause* Listen to what you have to say and take it to heart? "I'm so glad I made the decision to go to him in the first place." "Good for you for going, I'm proud." It's safe. Guaranteed.

In your own head however, it's a solo sport. A one man team. You either get all the glory or receive all the defeat. You succeed? You move forward. You revel in your self-reliance. You fuck up? You have no one to blame but yourself.

This used to be a negative for me, but then I realized that it wasn't always that way. I chose the sports reference purposefully. As a kid I hated team sports specifically for those reasons. You win? You do well? It was the team that did well. They chose you. They trained you. They passed you the ball before you put it in the goal. Shared glory. Not my thing. But if you botch that game-winning shot? The loss is all yours. "Thanks, Josh." "Way to go, retard." Win as a team, lose as an individual.

That's what drew me to bodybuilding and martial arts and strongman. Solo. No one to defer glory or defeat to. You shoulder it all yourself. And you know what? I'd rather have it that way. You do you, Umma do me.

People chastise men like James Cameron for being an asshole. But then they thankfully sit down and watch his movies as they makes millions. Do you think Jim is sitting at home losing sleep over some PA's feelings he hurt? Fuck no, he's swimming in his millions and making Avatar 2. He's a decision-maker. A man. Negative portrayals paint him as "self-important" or "egotistical". Fuck that. He is driven and he knows what he wants. If he didn't, his movies would never get made and they wouldn't have made the absurd amount of money that they have. Success requires a certain amount of ego. I used to instinctively understand this.

It's time to get back to my roots.

I've been SUPER-depressed lately, the worst I've ever been. I've almost made it of the hole I'm in but there is still a long way to go. My life is on the edge. Thin ice. Any moment now it could all come crashing down. I mean real shit too. Not teenage emo drama bullshit, I mean like homelessness, possible legal repercussions . REAL SHIT.

On one hand I've never been more focused and driven in my entire life. I've been writing and I'm making real tangible moves toward getting my life back, but on the other I am so ready to throw in the towel. After being told I'd received "time served" meaning that my time spent in jail and on house arrest exonerated me from future fines or probation I somehow apparently owe $500+ in court costs. Money I don't even begin to MAYBE have. To compound that glorious news I have to be out of my current place by the 22nd. Less than two weeks. And I have positively nothing lined up.

X vs. Y

Or,

Two road diverge in a yellow wood...

I've been in PA on my own (more or less) for a few years now, and before I lost my way, the goal was to eventually be a rich and famous filmmaker. An enterprise. A tour-de-force. A household name. A VERB. Writer/Director/Editor/Actor. And more. Simultaneous to those titles I would be a Comedian and Martial Artist and most importantly Father. Josh Vish. Those goals seem so far away now... But at least I've re-realized them. I used to live in LA for obvious reasons and had entertained moving back until the writing bug bit me.

I'm getting older and my looks are fading, I can't (and no longer) expect to be a break-out movie star at 25. I'm not getting down on myself or saying it's an impossibility, I'm just saying that it doesn't look likely. It's a shallow business and appearance matters. What I can do is: write and direct movies and put myself in them. And largely that's what I intend to do. Not because of any ego or thinking that I "deserve to be seen" but because I like acting. It's fun for me, I enjoy the process. And that'll be one less paycheck I have to sign. ;)

So I stayed in Pittsburgh, intent to focus on my writing. But like any good writer, I slacked off. Got distracted. Invested in too many projects at once. And, eventually, lost my way. Along with my ultimate goal. I forgot why I wanted to do such things with my life. I couldn't answer why live life at all. (Honestly something I sill struggle with, but the short answer is: because I want to.) In my defense I've dealt with more bullshit in the past 3 years than most human beings, Americans deal with in their entire lives. Loss of license, job, shelter, girlfriend, spending time in jail and on house arrest. I've had a lot dividing my time away from writing and my long-term goals. And rightfully so. I need to focus on supporting myself in a real-world environment before I can devote myself to my craft again.

And I am trying.

God it feels good to say that.

I am trying.

I have a job interview today and plan to resume my community service tomorrow. Awesome. However, I still don't know where I am going to be living in 2 week, and that's where all this X and Y symbolism comes into play. Decisions need to be made. Courses need to be set. Roads need to be paved.

My options (whether realistic or not) are as follows (and neatly divided into categories of Fight vs. Flight):
Flight:
Leave Pittsburgh and or PA in general. Either to New Mexico (where my parents are), Japan (where my heart is) or France (where my lifestyle is). Perhaps even the UK (where a good portion of my mind resides)
Fight:
Find another place in Cory, secure the job I'm interviewing for today (or another one), finish my community service and then move to one of the places listed above.

Flight really isn't an option. Legally I am backed into a corner. The Man (think the law personified as Jason Voorhees, or Michael Myers) is looming over me, and while I could probably squeeze under his legs and run into the woods, he'd eventually get me. He always does. He will inevitably catch up to whomever he is chasing. So my only real option is fight. Here. Now. And with what I have. Sure he is big and carrying a weapon, but creatures do amazing thing when they are forced to. I'm a somewhat larger fellow myself, and mildly aware of some martial arts... perhaps I will wait for him to strike, block the blow, hip-toss him and then dismember him with his own weapon. Or my bare-hands if needed. In non-symbolic terms that translates to:

I can't leave here (here being the Pittsburgh area) until I have paid of the inexplicable $500 I owe and completed the remaining 152 hours of community service I still am court-ordered to do. Seemingly simple tasks, but being licenseless and about to be homeless complicates matters. Greatly.

My ideal itinerary would look like this:
I stay here until I have completed the above requirements and regained my license. And ideally that whole time I'd simultaneously be getting back in shape at the gym job I hopefully secure today. After that I would bounce. I get my license back in August and feel I owe Pittsburgh one last chance at providing me with a nice summer. Instead of one in a cast, or jail. After that, with my ultimate goal of becoming a rich and famous filmmaker father I'd very likely head out west. Probably first to New Mexico. I've researched it a fair bit and in addition to reuniting with my parents (which I love and miss very much) I'd be afforded a great many deal of opportunities. The greatest of which being free school. My parents have offered to put me through school. Wow. Talk about second chances. When you're 19 (and cocky, not just for that age but as an inherent character trait) and interested in creative careers, school seems fruitless. [19 year old Josh]: "The only reason I'd ever go to school for movies, is to network. Other than that, it's pointless. I don't want them ruining my creativity with their retarded rules and guidelines."

While a good portion of me still feels that way, the older and wiser part knows better. School will only destroy my creativity or put it in a box if I let it. And then of course there's that glorious networking, being surrounded by individuals who share my passion. Sure to be inspiring. It always was in the gym. And other people's workouts never seemed to affect my own, or my progress. So why should their schoolwork affect mine? It shan't and won't. Unless I let it. There are people in the world right now who would very likely kill to be in my shoes. Now and meaning with this opportunity. Free school? Only a retard would turn it down. Besides, in addition to cinema, I'd be able to pursue other avenues of my interest as well. Like Japan. Or psychology. Or botany. With school the options are endless. So I'd very much like to go, majoring in Cinema, while learning the Japanese language and as much about their culture and history in a school environment as I can. After that, I become a global force in media and move to Japan. Not necessarily in that order. Shortly after traveling the globe and seeing my share of sights and interacting with my share of cultures and people I'll decide on a place to live and raise a family. All while comfortably still dominating the movie world. That is the goal that is going to lay my path out for me.

This job I'm going to be interviewing for today is by no means a dream job, but on many levels it is. It is near perfect for where I am in my life right now. And considering my goals. Fitness used to be HUGE part of my life and I'm trying to make it that way again. While I no longer want to personally train people, I still do want to be in peak physical condition. I also plan on owning a gym (or 37) "when I grow up". Just one part of the Vish Empire I plan to create after the millions from my films start rolling in. Not only do I miss being in a gym simply for the effect it has on my body, but also for the one it has on my mind. I miss the symbolism of working out just as much (if not more) than the actual physical process. That's another thing, I don't just enjoy the results, I enjoy the process. Being built is a side-effect of doing something I enjoy, something that makes me feel good. Filmmaking should likely end up being the same way. I miss having physical tangible results day in day out mirroring the effort I put in. Learning to push myself in the gym spilled out into the real world. Goals in life are just the same as goals in the weight room. You define one and then work toward it. And progressive-resitance training is a great symbol for how to achieve in general. You take where you are now, measure it against where you want to be and then take systematic steps toward it. I miss that. I miss watching the numbers increase on the tape measurer, the scale and in my books. My books being where I logged how much I lifted and how many times. There's few feelings in life as great as going all out one day, recording the result and then coming back the next week and pushing beyond it. You feel invincible. Unstoppable. I used to feel that way about everything, not just working out. It's time to regain that. The position I've applied for and am interviewing today is that of Front Desk. Face-Man. The Face of YMCA. I can do that. I can more than do that. I'm a born and bred social creature. Very easy to approach. Very welcoming, very familiar. In most any walk of life you can imagine, people gravitate toward me. Especially in a gym environment. I've had a very similar job before and despite the douchebag management it was one of my favorite jobs I've ever held. A fact I only realized in retrospect, unfortunately. Hindsight being 20/20 and all that. My main duty would be interacting with people. Perfect. In addition to that I'd be afforded a free membership. Something I have been dying for even since before I broke my wrist two years back. The portion of their set-up that I would actually utilize is meager, but it would get the job done. The basics are all there. And besides it's best not to go too crazy right out the gate. After about 5 years of no longer maintaining a regular work-out routine, and this past year of living the absolute definition of a sedentary lifestyle, easing back into the water will likely be for the best.

That's a lot of birds being murdered with not a lot of stones being thrown. Money to support myself. Check. Money to put toward my fines (or court costs or whatever the fuck they are). Check. Gym membership to get my body, mind and soul back in solid health. Check. The only downsides are that it's part-time and downtown. Quite a commute for one without a car. Heck it'd be one even if I did have a car. But I'm not gonna let that stop me. A part time job is better than nothing right now and it being downtown affords me an excuse to walk (lending to my fitness again) and see the sights of the city. And to be exposed to its people. Here's hoping I get it. :D After a few chores around the house here and getting myself ready (hygienically as well as mentally) I'll take the bus down and put my best foot forward. And even if I don't get it, at least I can say I did that.

This Y is forging ahead.

Tuesday (Time for action.)

2010-03-02T01:42:00.000-08:00

It's 4:15AM on Tuesday, the second of March, 2010 as I type this. Well 4:16 now, but you get the idea.

I was super-depressed last night/yesterday and about ready to hang it up.

It goes back to the whole wanting it bad enough thing. If you ACTUALLY want to do something, you'll do it. No matter the circumstances, you will find a way to do it. Aptitude at doing something was not what I lacked, it was the drive to do something. I didn't want to do anything.

The goal creates the path, not the other way around.

I'm feeling very positive, but also very nervous. I was proactive and checked some job listings and the very first one I found sounds a like a dream job, for where I am in my life right now. As such I updated my resume and am amidst plans to get a physical copy there. I know a person who works at the building where this potential job is located. Seeing as how as my main method of transportation will have to be the bus, I decided accompanying a person also reliant on the bus in order to get to this destination was a wise move. He too is sans license and must utilize his feet and public transportation to secure employment. So we've set up a little "Take your Josh Vish to work" day.

The plan is I follow his route so that I know it for the future. Later in the day I plan to revisit it with Kevin. I also plan on having a fresh haircut, looking overall presentable and having a resume in tow. So that means I leave in a bit to go on my journey of discovery and enjoy some down time on the ride home and then later, GET SHIT DONE. I'll do what it takes to get my resume printed and to get cleaned up and then we'll head down to turn it in.

I am nervous.

For the first time in my life, I am nervous. I used to be a un-ending wellspring of confidence, but these past few years have done more than their share to humble me.

How do I regard my jail time in the interview? My time on Pretrial Electronic Monitoring? Fuck. I am so nervous. When you go in to interview for a job you want to look and feel your best. I certainly don't feel it and I'm worried I don't look it either. Hopefully my resume is solid and my overall personality shines through. This is a chance at a gym job and I WANT IT BAD. Free membership? Employment? I'd be well on my way to getting my life back together. Gaaaaaah! It's exciting but nerve-racking at the same time.

I have a feeling of putting all my eggs in one basket and I know that's dangerous, but I can't help it. This would solve SOOO many problems for me. Not just having an income and getting in shape again, but maybe repairing my relationship with Kevin and my parents. Not just restoring my confidence in myself, but restoring their confidence in me as well. And if paying rent and feeding myself are no longer my main concerns I can re-focus on my long-term goals.

There is sort of an unspoken agreement in the air right now between me and Kevin. I brought up that I can't really afford to move and that anything coming of his moving out would be shouldered by my parents. He basically laid down the same guidelines that my parents and Shannon have laid down for me years prior. It's sort of silently understood that as long as I am going to be productive and actively trying to get back on my feet instead of thinking of the most efficient method of suicide that he is going to stick it out and do what he can to help me. In this case meaning continuing to live here until I'm financially able to move out as well. None of that is confirmed and it could just be wishful thinking and misconstrued information, but I'd like to think I know him pretty well by now and I also need to stay positive. I need to feel like my actions are going to have some positive effect or I won't even bother doing them.

That last sentence holds more meaning than I have time to expound on right now, but suffice it to say that is my overall outlook on life currently.

I need to feel like my actions are going to have some positive effect or I won't even bother doing them.

So here it is. And here I am. Hopefully putting a positive foot forward. It's not Monday morning, and I haven't had a full night of sleep and I'm kinda scruffy at the moment, but so what. At least I am moving forward. Nothing is ever going to be perfect and if I keep waiting for it to be I will never do anything with my life. All I (or anyone else for that matter) can do is to do the best I can with what I have.

And you know what? I think that if I do that, even if I end up failing, at the end of the day I'll be able to be proud of myself and to sleep soundly. And confident to get up and attack my challenges head-on the next morning.

Monday (Time for change.)

2010-02-22T19:58:00.000-08:00

I was gonna type this whole big thing that was dripping with symbolism about some guy gearin' up to fight and then gettin's his ass kicked by a personified Monday, but that seemed contrived and I'm lazy.

I've often heard that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Now obviously that's not the medical definition, but it's still a pretty good barometer for mental health. According to that adage, I'm crazy in the coconut. And have been for quite some time now.

Today was supposed to be a big day. A good day. A fresh start. "The first day of the rest of my life." Instead it just got thrown in the pile with every other day I've ever wasted. I wanted to wake up at 9 or 10, go get my hair cut and then meet up with my sister for a spot of adventure ending sometime before 4 (when she goes to work.) After that I was going to walk around and look for places to work or do community service. Preferably both.

I ended up waking up at 3:30PM.

I have had a problem with sleeping since about sophomore year of high-school. Give or take a year. I never seem to be able to fall asleep at normal times and waking up before noon is near impossible. Except for when I lived in LA and woke up every day, on the dot, at 8AM with no alarm clock. Sun shinin', birds chirpin' and I'd just pop out of bed and proceed with my day. Back here in PA however, you'd be hard-pressed to wake me for anything. Free cheeseburgers, you say? They need time to cool, I don't like really hot food anyway.... Naked virgins eager for me? Let 'em wait a little bit longer, it'll build up the tension... Nuclear holocaust underway? I'm probably irrevocably irradiated now anyway, might as well enjoy some sleep while I can...

No matter the incentive I will rationalize a way to stay in bed. On-the-cusp-of-waking-Josh's logic is infallible. Of Vulcanic accuracy. This pattern of behavior has gotten me kicked out of school and fired from more than a few jobs. The exception to the rule was that damn LA, though. And my pre-high-school years. How come I was able to wake so easily then? And go to bed at a decent hour? Must be D.S.P.S. I concluded. Everything I read about it coincided with my preferred pattern of sleeping.

Inability to fall asleep before 2AM? Check.
Inability to wake before noon? Check.
Fruitless attempts at "resetting my clock" by staying up for a few days straight and then going to bed at a decent time? Check.

If I go to bed at say 5 or 6am, maybe even 7, I can wake up at noon no problem. Completely refreshed. I fall asleep quickly, sleep soundly and the very moment I open my eyes, I am awake. If I try going to bed at 11PM or midnight, I lay there for hours in the silent dark thinking about absolutely everything until maybe conking out around 4 or 5. Then next morning when my 3 alarms go off in one minute succession of each other, I have shut them off and laid back down without so much as a conscious thought going through my brain.

I've tried everything. Different job schedules like 2-10, drinking coffee in the morning, exercise... Nothing seems to change the fact that I simply do not want to get out of bed. Ever. I'm still in bed right now.

Before I discovered the parameters of DSPS I hypothesized a similar disorder. It seemed to me that normal people wake for 16 hours and sleep for 8. And for the average employed American that 8 ran from about midnight to 8AM. I however like to sleep for anywhere from 12 to 24 hours or more and wake for 24 to 48 or more hours. I simply have a longer cycle. Longer days, longer nights.

While I still think there is some validity to that, and also the DSPS, I think there is a more concise underlying problem. Indeed likely the root of all my problems.

There are simply too many variables to work through to observe an obvious pattern and I'm too deeply involved for an objective view but it would seem to me that about the time I discovered women, introspection and self-actualization was the same time my sleeping problem began. It'd be unfair to solely blame it on my first girlfriend for entering my life and it'd also be a cop out to just say it came with adulthood.

Up until about 16 or 17 I was the character many people remember me to be and I largely still consider myself to be. I was your typical bored smart kid. Your textbook case of intelligent class clown. I finished my work before everyone else and was left with a surplus amount of time to myself. So I became disruptive. Discovered the joys of making others laugh. Thus the Josh Vish many know and love was born. About that time is also when my grades started slipping. I was fiercely intelligent but self-destructively stubborn. Why should I do this tedious homework when I know I'll already get a perfect on the test? Foolish... My standardized testing scores were literally off the charts, my IQ test had me well above the genius bracket, and yet shortly after all this was discovered my grades slumped to average at best. Just barely passing by high-school. I'd ace the tests and get incompletes on the homework assignments. As + Fs = Cs. I didn't do homework because "my home time is my time."

What happened here? Is this the source of my cockiness? Did telling an 8 year old boy he is literally smarter than all the adults in the building and that he has more potential to increase his intelligence than 90% of the entire population, cripple him? Cripple me? Was I too immature to deal with such news? There is a difference between intelligence and maturity.

I STILL have this attitude that I can accomplish whatever I want, yet I barely ever try at anything. Anything I've ever seemingly "accomplished" has come to me naturally. Drawing was an innate skill that I honed during my free time in school, sure, but truth be told I never really had to work at it. Or being funny. It just came naturally. Losing weight and getting into shape, an admirable feat for sure but still it didn't require too much effort on my part. Maybe I'm selling myself short? I did after all put in the hours at the gym and monitor my eating with precision the rest of the day... it's just that.... it never felt hard. It never felt like work. I couldn't understand how other people who claim to want to be in shape weren't. It's so easy, it's so simple, I thought. How are they not getting it?

Ah ha, there's the rub. I've always followed the path of least resistance. I've never really been challenged in my entire life. Whether it's because I avoid challenges or because nothing is worthy to challenge me is up for debate. It is likely a combination of the two. I had even designed a quote to excuse my supposed overflowing talent yet lack of observable achievements:

When it's easy to do anything, it's hard to do something.

Why did I stop drawing? During my school years and my short run in the office world I drew habitually. Almost obsessively. Was it simply a way to escape the monotony of the day? When I have hours of free time now, I don't draw. In fact, I don't even entertain the idea of wanting to draw. The only time I want to draw is when there is something else I'm supposed to be doing.

Nowadays I don't understand how they could have thought I was so ridiculously intelligent. If I'm so smart, how come I'm such a loser? If all these people with supposedly inferior intellects are successful in modern society, why aren't I?

Simple. Because I don't want it.

Why don't I wake up? I don't want to.

I am a HUGE proponent that people will do whatever it is they actually want to do.

If you are overweight and can't seem to get in shape, it's not because you're doing something wrong, it's because you don't want it bad enough.

If I can't wake up on time, find and hold a job, move toward being a filmmaker, etc.. it's not because my approach is somehow flawed or because the world is against me, it's because at the core I don't truly desire it.

I was a fat kid for years. I never spoke of wanting to lose weight, I just did. One day I just got my act together and started doing what was necessary. BECAUSE I ACTUALLY WANTED IT.

This is my problem. At the core, I don't think I want to do anything.

When i was in jail, I modified my quote to:

I can do anything, I want to do something.

I have no clear-cut goals. I used to want to be a father. Part of me still thinks I do. Filmmaker, comedian, bodybuilder, artist... All these things I claim I want to be, I am making no moves toward becoming.

"Shoot for the moon land amongst the stars", I'm on the moon like, okay.... now what?! Why bother setting another goal if this one is so lofty for so many?

A good friend of mine once added an addendum to a popular quote:

"I think therefore I am... depressed."

I largely believe this to be the case. Too many times and from too many people I have been told that "You are too smart for your own good." I used to cite it as my tragic flaw, much to a former flame's behest. She'd conjecture with "It can't be your tragic flaw because that means it will ultimately lead to your downfall." To which I'd just stare at her blankly and wait for her to catch on. It goes back to "Thinking is the enemy of perfection." Our culture values careful planning and long-term goals. It looks down upon brash spur-of-the-moment decisions. Anything I have ever done, good or bad comes down to spontaneous decision making. The creation of this blog. This very entry. Drawing. Being funny. Losing weight. Gaining muscle. Making funny little skit videos. Nothing I have claimed to want or laid down plans for has ever came to fruition. Maybe normal people need more planning in their lives, but when you have a to do list that starts off with:

Open eyes.

Reach for phone to shut off alarm.

Stand up.

Shut off alarm on entertainment center.

Exit to bathroom.

Splash face with water....

Maybe it's time to just start shooting from the hip? How about, just wake the fuck up? Let things develop organically. I've never done that. I mean not really. Not as a rule of thumb.

People chastise "flying by the seat of your pants". Well guess what, if that's the only way you're going to fly, then maybe it's a good thing. Because planning to attach my trousers to an aircraft has just left me stumbling over details like What kind of pants? What material? What color? How big of an airplane? Maybe a helicopter instead? Maybe for me, and for some of us, flying by the seat of our pants is the only way to fly.

I have a good 15-20 writing projects lined up. Some fiction screenplays and some focused blogs. I rarely, if ever, work on them. This blog that I am typing right now though? Obviously getting done and certainly wasn't planned in advance. I told you what I was going to do. Write some fancy symbolic fight between me as a character and a personified Monday. Well that didn't happen. This did. So maybe instead of berating myself for not going with my original vision I should be congratulating myself for actually completing something.

Or is that just the part of me prone to follow the path of least resistance taking over again?

Water doesn't think about where it's going to flow next or how fast, it just does. A frog doesn't ponder how best to be a frog. "Should I sit on this lily-pad? Should I eat that passing fly?" It just simply is a frog.

So why is it so hard for me to "just be" Josh Vish?

Isn't all of this technically being me? Aren't I being me right now? I mean maybe water or a frog doesn't question its motives and maybe that's perfectly fine, but maybe this is what I'm supposed to do. Maybe this is how I be me. Maybe the only secret to me being me, or you being you, isn't some specific set of guidelines for behavior, whether self-created or not, but simply being at peace with everything you do.

So maybe the way I'll cure my "insanity" isn't by changing my methods, but by instead expecting the results I've already been getting and being content with them.

People think I don't try. I think I don't try. Maybe I've been trying too hard?

The difference between the young version of me that drew, made people laugh, got in shape, moved to LA, made short movies with people, etc. and the me that doesn't seem to be accomplishing anything I want is that he just did. He didn't obsess or plan, he did. "Just do it." in person form.

The difference between the me that wanted to write a clever narrative that would awe and inspire people and the me that wrote this blog is: that I actually wrote mine.

Instead of trying to sit down and figure out what I want from life in clear-cut black-and-white terms maybe I just need to let go and see where I head naturally.

I'm sick of saying I used to be this or I used to do that. Or I want to be this, I want to do that.

You know what?

I am.

And for once in my life, that's good enough for me.

It would be so nice to end it there. So movie happily-ever-after. But the sad fact remains that it doesn't end there. I simply do not know who I am or what I want to with my life. And until I figure that out, I am effectively paralyzed. Dead in the water.

"And where does the newborn go from here? The net is vast and infinite..."

My weekend.

2010-02-21T14:55:00.000-08:00

So the other day my friend, Kevin, wanted to trek out to Washington to the Tanger Outlets to buy some boots at the Timberland store. He asked me if I wanted to come. After seven months spent almost entirely in my house and three months in jail prior to that, I heartily agree to most any offer to go out and about, and this was no exception.

Despite being in the negative monetary-wise (and with no income to speak of), I decided that picking up a pair of durable practical boots might lift my spirits. "Retail therapy", I believe it's called. If I am going to get a job or complete my community service in this weather, a nice pair of boots would be invaluable, as I have to walk most anywhere I want to go.

The day started off with us heading to Shadyside to send his Macbook Pro off to be fixed. I relish any opportunity to go Shadyside, and was quite excited to be in the area. As far as PA goes, Shadyside is where all my swankiest happenings have happened. It's where the after-party for the premiere of Kevin Smith's Zack and Miri Make a Porno was held, and also where I met and briefly chatted with the uber-cute Jamie Chung, and a few of her Sorority Row castmates while they were here in Pittsburgh. Both occurred on the same night at Alto Lounge.

The day was progressing nicely. Weather was way better than it has been. That and the smiles and conversations shared with random mac-store workers and patrons were having quite the positive effect on me. I always forget what a fun, funny and witty person I can be until I'm out in public doing it unintentionally. It's like "Ooooh yeah.... this is who I am...." Continuing the whole theme of avatars and the Japanese concept of tatemae and honne, it's in situations like these that I learn the most about myself. I don't so much think that we as humans purposefully shift from a private to a public persona for any reasons like shame or anything, but more because THERE IS NO ONE TO INTERACT WITH WHEN YOU ARE ALONE. And therefore no reference points. Despite many people assuming I probably do (what with all the characters and voices I do) I rarely, if ever, talk to myself. I can count on my hand the number of times I've done it. When by myself I am quiet and calm, and I would imagine most people are. Certain attributes of my character are only observable when compared in relation to those around me.

When I'm by myself I tend to think of myself as an introverted, bookish, nerdy, intellectual artist. Bordering on neurotic and somewhat anti-social. A bit egotistical but also somewhat insecure. In a crowd, I am the life of the party. The Tyler Durden to my Narrarator. I am attractive, conversational, witty, intelligent and humorous. I'm a local celebrity, shaking hands and kissing babies. The center of attention. A natural born leader. Barack Obama in public, Charlie Kaufman behind closed doors.

Side note: I've determined that I'm either incredibly good-looking, incredibly weird-looking or incredibly ugly because no matter where I go, people eye-fuck the shit out of me. Or maybe I look like a celebrity. It might also be that I'm so highly animated. Who knows? In my younger days it used to perplex and encuriate me, but presently it just serves to fuel my ego and make me feel good about myself.

We left the Mac Store and then went to a place called Sushi Too. A small, cozy sushi-hole that's not bad for being located in Western PA. The food was dece and the service was prompt and courteous. One of the cute asian waitresses was staring a hole trough me the entire time. Again, providing confidence and happiness. It's so fun to share smiles and stolen glances with a woman you've never met before. It feels naughty yet innocent, special yet arbitrary all at the same time. Either way it's fun and I enjoy it. I've always had a thing for asian women, specifically Japanese and South Korean, but after my (HORRIBLE) breakup with my most recent ex, they've been somewhat ruined for me. She was South Korean and every time I eye an attractive oriental girl I can't but help to be reminded of her. As such I've mostly tried to shut off my affinity for females from the far east.

While eating, Kevin and I began to wax philosophical on the values of eating at a leisurely pace, nutrition and just food in general. Having a history in personal training, health and fitness, being a former fat kid and a fan of clean eating I was all too happy to discuss such things. He was biking in the summer and has been steadily increasing his kitchen-related activities, so he too was quite keen to speak about such things.

Not too long ago, I watched two documentaries titled Food, Inc. and The Botany Of Desire. Both featuring Michael Pollan. (Both excellent, and highly recommended.) And after he himself completed it, Kevin insisted that I read Food Rules. I had just finished The Omnivore's Dilemma and I loved it, so in following the Michael Pollan theme decided to take him up on it. It's a short read, and I banged it out quite quickly. It's mostly just common sense and stuff I already know, although it was worded more cleverly and succinctly. It was like the cliff notes' version of either of the movies or Omnivore's Dilemma. With all this in the air and in our minds, we mindfully ate sushi and talked about how nice it is to know where your food comes from and to eat at a comfortable pace.

From there we ventured directly to the Tanger Outlets. A huge outdoor mall housing many factory stores of popular companies whose products are typically marked up and sold in department stores at typical malls. Having been the middle of February, and having been one of the harshest winters on record in this area, left the place mostly uninhabited. A weird ghost-town effect was plainly noticeable. Such a large place that obviously makes SCADS of money and attracts hundreds of thousands of customers, with nary more than a few stragglers in addition to those working the stores. It was somewhat eery, but kinda cool. I would like to see it on a nice, warm, busy day. Must be hectic. And awesome. Kevin expressed a preference for its current state and the division between us grew ever more apparent to me. Talk of zombie invasion (there at the outlets) lightened the mood, but I still couldn't help seeing the vast disparity in our characters.

While at the Outlets, I was struck with the plights of the modern American citizen. Specifically those of an affluent woman. I have never felt so womanly in my life. I mean that in as negative a way as possible. Many aspects of stereotypically female behaviors I actually strive to embody and unconsciously already do: nurturing, caring, feeling, so on and so forth... But there are two sides to every coin, and as such I can also embody the negative stereotypes of women as well, whiny, moody, shallow and overly obsessed with appearance. That last one is what happened here.

I just wanted a pair of crisp dark denim jeans, that were somewhat form-fitting but not restricting. Loose, but not baggy. Fashionable, but not gay.

I'd like to start off by expressing my extreme distaste for two current trends in fashion.

First, and my most hated, pre-distressed/faded jeans.
Are you kidding me? You expect me to pay upwards of a hundred dollars for jeans that look beat-to-shit? Jeans I would throw out? Back in my day, holes in your jeans meant you were poor or dirty, likely both. I'll tell you what, you give me fifty bucks and I'll go get a pair of Levi's, wear 'em for three or four years and then give 'em to you. Deal? No? That's retarded? Silly? Why you want jeans someone else wore? EXACTLY. Pre-distressed and "vintage" t-shirts can suck my dick, too. If the shit I'm wearing is going to look like I've had it for years, then I want to have actually had it for years. Earn your stripes.

Second, skinny jeans for men.
What the fuck?! It's like we've now plunged this nations' male population into the same bullshit trap we've had our women in for years. For decades women have been oppressed by advertising and models telling them they should be able to fit into jeans that even a skeleton would have trouble sliding on. Now we're telling our men the same thing? I am a man, damnit. I have thick, muscular legs. What the fuck am I gonna do with a piece of material best suited to hold two broomsticks?! Get that shit out of my face. Here I am, a robust, muscular twenty-five-year-old male and I'm in a fitting room thinking "Maybe I should start running? Maybe I should modify my diet?" (Quick side note: I FUCKING HATE when people say they are "going on a diet". You are already on a diet, asshole. Whatever you eat comprises your diet.) Bullshit. That's just capitalist bullshit propaganda working its way into my head. And I don't appreciate it. FUCK SKINNY JEANS. Fuck 'em. Give me a pair of man-jeans.

I am the unwanted half-breed bastard child of the denim world.

In the fashionable, young, punky stores I could feel the eyes of the clerks and few patrons judging me.

"Get out of here, you muscular jock asshole." Their gazes said to me.

"We don't like your kind round these parts..."

Whereas in Casual Male XL, everyone's eyes were saying,

"Oh look at you, you skinny little faggot. Oh boo hoo, my arms are too long for shirts. Boo hoo, I can't find pants that are loose in the thighs but actually fit in the waist."

Tertium Quid again rears its ugly head. Has me thinking I'll just have to get rich and have everything custom made. That way I can also have everything be hemp.

The whole ordeal had me feeling really bourgeois and affluent.

Like seriously, is buying jeans or shoes really this big of a deal?
Really that important?

Just buy a fucking pair of pants or shoes and shut the fuck up already. Yeesh.

I went in with the attitude of survival first, fashion second. I wanted durable fitting jeans that I could still move around in and a pair of boots that would keep my feet dry without being or looking clunky. It ended up turning into a fiasco that many women immediately identified with, according to the comments on my facebook status updates throughout the day.

When jeans fit over my thighs and ass they are WAY too loose around my waist and look retarded. Frumpy. Like that bullshit trend among teenagers where they wear jeans three sizes too small but yet somehow still manage to sag. The other options are jeans that fit in the waist and either look like gangsta-ass gangsta baggy jeans, that would be entirely unpractical to commence any sort of physical activity in, or jeans so tight they look like they could be painted on. I seriously felt like I was going to need cut out of every "fashionable" pair of jeans I tried on.

The boots I didn't feel as girly about, but I was still quite disappointed. Having a wide foot really fucks you for most shoes. Your options are crush the sides of your foot or have enough space in front of your toes that you end up sliding all around inside and chafing the fuck out of your ankles. I chose neither. Again, maybe I'll just have to wait until I can have everything custom-made.

I ended up leaving without buying anything. Seeing as how as I have less than a dollar to my name (indeed negative dollars) it was probably better that way. It doesn't change the fact that I still need/desire a solid pair of jeans and boots.

The ridiculousness and triviality of these "problems" does not escape me. Whereas people are dying just to find clean drinking water I'm bitching about the waitress putting ice in mine when I specifically asked her not to. Ludicrous. Then again, "problems" are only relative anyway... Even though you might laugh at a person being upset over losing a million dollars when they still have ten million more I'm sure that person is still quite sad about it. And rightfully so.

It just seems silly to me to bitch about finding correctly-fitting pants when there are people in the world THAT DON'T EVEN WEAR PANTS.

At some point, Kov wondered aloud, "What if you were in an asexual homosexual relationship?" His delivery was genuine and I could see the irony had yet to dawn on him. I sat quietly and just stared at him, waiting for the pink elephant in the room to wave his way. It did eventually and we each shared a chuckle.

Asexual homosexual relationship? No thank you. I want a sexual heterosexual relationship. I love women and I miss sex. I miss cuddling even more. I also miss sharing the burden of daily life in a near-perfect harmonious relationship. I hate to do dishes, my x loved them. I love to vacuum, my x hated it. Sooooo she did the dishes and I vacuumed. Perfect. I want that sort of relationship again. Natural. Organic. Not forced. Each one picking up where the other one leaves off.

That feeling combined with all the sympathy I received after my trying-on-jeans escapade helps to reinforce just how much I want and need a woman in my life. Not just one I can live with, but one I can't live with out. I think I want to fall in love again. But a huge part of me knows I'm not ready. Thinks I will NEVER be ready, ever again. My last x destroyed my heart. Ripped it out of my chest and stomped on it. Then wore the blood-covered boots out and told everyone where it came from. I could go into further detail but I don't wanna sound like a whiny emo teenager. Bad shit happens to everyone, you deal with it and move on.

It's just kinda hard to move on when your faith in the entire human race has been all but obliterated.

I will not go off on a tangent about my x.
I will not go off on a tangent about my x.
I will not go off on a tangent about my x.
I will not go off on a tangent about my x.
I will not go off on a tangent about my x.

It's shitty, but I want like a "rental" girlfriend. I'm not ready to settle down yet, so looking for more serious options would be doing both parties a disservice. I eventually want a wife that I'm madly in love with and can raise children with, but I'm simply not ready for her yet. Or them. (Our future kids) I am still a child myself. I need to figure myself out and get my life together before I think about pursuing a life-time partnership. Or creating/molding lives with said partner. It just sucks because I know that if I had a strong woman to depend on, and share with, that I could much more easily get my life together. It's like needing a car to get a job, but needing a job to get a car.

Back to the avatar talk...
I LOVE that movie. Just as it as. As a standalone entertainment experience. But also (and maybe even more so) for the the thoughts and ideas it created in me. Not only the long-standing return-to-nature theme that has been prevalent in my life for so many years, but also the concept of avatars.

In LittleBiGPlanet the first customization I gave to my Sackboy left him looking like a blue lion-man with a smile. When I was younger I gravitated toward Kimahri Ronso when my friends and I played FFX. The Beast was my second favorite X-Men character. I'm pretty fast and agile for a big guy and even a touch graceful. Blue is one of my three favorite colors. These and a whole slew of other things just left me enamored with the concept of inhabiting a twelve-foot blue lion-person body after coming out of the theater for Avatar. So many connections between things in my life lead to being an anthropomorphic cat-man.

So all this factored in and combined with my recent awareness of my apparent split-personality has left me wondering how best to physically represent myself. How best to express my inner self with my appearance. I have many "set" characters that I can slip in to, and out of, at will. With ease, (Sometimes TOO easily, and maybe not so willingly according to others.) Some are established and easily recognized and just modified for my purposes. Others are of my own creation. Others still are unnamed and not distinctly divided from the rest. In a stereotypically vain move, I've taken to using many of my friends as outward representations of my character.

But despite all those people swimming around in my head (or maybe because of) a single "overlord" has yet to emerge. The ultimate symbol of Josh Vish-itude. There have been a few attempts, and I'm sure people I know have opinions on the matter, but the truth is, I don't feel I've completely realized who I am yet. As a character or in appearance.

I've decided to take it to the drawing board and to design myself from head to toe. From the inside to the out. To turn myself into an immediately recognizable symbol. An Icon. I want what I look like to represent who I am. In short, I will now be creating my own avatar. As best as I can with the options I've been given. Most people can immediately describe the character and/or appearance of say, Jesus or Goku or Superman or Bruce Lee when asked to do so. I want to be the same way. I want to be a household name. Like Coca-Cola or Arnold Schwarzenegger. A verb. I am well aware this is my ego talking and that such aspirations also inherently prove risky (on many levels) but regardless, this is how I feel. All humans want to be remembered as it is our most feasible chance at immortality. A legacy is far easier to attain than actual eternal life. I am no different.

In favor of brevity I will eschew talking about the character I aspire to embody and will instead focus on the outward appearance of my physical body.

I want to be tan, fit, lean and muscular. In addition to actually being athletic and powerful, I want to look it. Crisp, clean lines around neatly trimmed hair. As far as manner of dress. I want to be tactical, yet fashionable. Function first, fashion second.

In other Vish-news...
I am officially done inhaling combusted cannabis until I have secured a gym membership, the ability to get there and the time to use it. This requires a job and transportation. Neither of which I have now. You can't respectfully smoke marijuana without maintaining a productive lifestyle. In my opinion, at least. And right now I am just a bum. A typical stoner. NO MORE, I say. One blunt before a workout. Maybe a pipe on the weekends. No more chiefin' joints and smokin' roaches. No more midis. Only beautiful nuggets. Green. Colorful. Hairy. (just like me)

When I start living in a manner that I am proud of and pleases me, I will resume my willful habit. But first, I must prove myself. To myself.

Last night after getting some grub at Mad Mex with the pair of Kevs, Little Kev wanted to hit the town. Apparently Big Kev had made it seem like that was the plan, so when he was talking of heading home Little Kev was left wanting. So he asked me to head out and about with him. Again, I all too happily obliged.

We first went to Oakland and the Spice Cafe. It was too loud for normal conversation and after a water and contrived conversation with a waitress we decided to roll out. We then made our way to Shadyside. After parking, we putzed around and eventually came to Alto Lounge. There was a pleasant group of attractive young females cutting a rug on the dance floor and music of an acceptable volume. We stayed there for a bit and flirted with the bartender. A ridiculously attractive brunette dressed sportily. She helped us find directions (on her Macbook) to Shadow Lounge. And that is where we headed next.

This whole time we were chit-chatting away in the car as both of us are extremely talkative and passionate. A few common topics emerged. He was quite pleased with the feeling of adventure afforded to him by driving around somewhat aimlessly and eager to break into nightlife. Prior to my forced isolation, I was never much for the bar scene. I abhor tobacco and those that smoke it and for the most part don't even care to drink. I like beer and I drink it with meals, but I do it in the snobby sense. I say shit like, "Oh notes of cardamom..." or "These hops were harvested quite young..." Drinking for me is not "LET'S GET SHIT-FACED!!!" I have never understood that mentality. Beverage is beverage and regarded largely the same way I treat food. Regardless of these facts he chose me to be his liaison. Which I can certainly understand, giving where I grew up and my time spent in LA. And because of my unwilling segregation I've been desiring to go out more as well.

After parking we rolled up to the front door which was flanked by a few scattered groups. One such group of which was a trio of attractive ladies pleasantly puffing some pot right out in front. On my own I would've taken a hit for sure, but with Little Kev nearby I didn't want to chance making him feel awkward. He's only just breaking into the social scene and I anticipated he would have felt lost while I was shooting the shit with fellow smokers. This was later confirmed as accurate by him. We poked our heads in and after finding out there was a ten dollar cover for a place that would be closing in roughly a half an hour, we decided to bail. The victory was already won. Little Kev just wanted to know where the place was for sure and I was happy with the crowd I had viewed in my short time there. The lingering scent of cannabis smokily hanging in the air, and rhythmic beats I'd have no problem movin mah feets to, will surely bring us both back there soon.

I am ready and waiting for you, Monday.

Big things should be happening tomorrow and hopefully I'll get a chance to write about them soon thereafter .

Only one person in the world knows the answer to this.

2010-02-19T22:51:00.000-08:00

For sure, I mean. I mean I know they know, and they know I know they know. I don't know about anyone else.

Q:
Why did I want to be a whale when I was a little kid?

Avatar

2010-02-18T16:32:00.000-08:00

Seriously, I love Avatar, so much.

Yes James Cameron's Avatar.

But also the symbolism of avatars...

My chosen avatar would probably be something like a smiling 12 foot blue-lion man, maybe wearing a white beard... The closest I've come to discovering that was Kimahri Ronso. If only he was prone to smiling...

The Japanese concept of honne and tatemae perfectly coincides with Avatar and my life right now. We each have a true self and a public self. It's impossible not to.

Just like the first two times, I again noticed The Flaming "Horse". And it again reminded me of the flaming, machine-horse in The Animatrix - The Second Renaissance - Part II. This was my third time seeing it in the theater and all three times were in 3D. This, however, was my first time seeing it "enhanced".

This is what I "want to do when I grow up". Make movies. Motion-pictures, set to music.

Big. Epic. Colorful. Visual. Story-tales.

With symbolism and purpose.

Visual storytelling. A visual art. A visual medium. Should be kinetic. Pleasing to the eye. Not just good story/characterization. And vice-versa, shouldn't be just good writing, story and character, it should flow well and look good too. Otherwise, just read a book. Music is also key. They have to pair well. The synergy (or lack thereof) can make (or break) a movie. I know several movies that I love probably wouldn't hold as special a place in my consciousness if it weren't for the delightful soundtrack accompanying the events unfolding onscreen.

That's a lot of elements to alchemically combine.

Let the record show that I have watched the entire first season of Avatar: The Last Airbender and eagerly anticipate being able to watch the remaining seasons. I'm also fairly stoked for the live-action movie.

Tertium Quid

2010-02-17T23:51:00.000-08:00

Tertium Quid -

1. Something that cannot be classified into either of two groups considered exhaustive; an intermediate thing or factor.

2. A third person or thing of indeterminate character.

One of the saddest things I have ever seen.

2010-02-17T22:15:00.001-08:00

Procrastination

2010-02-17T17:08:00.000-08:00

I think procrastination is an ugly word. I prefer the phrase "biding my time".

I created this blog over a week a go and have largely neglected it. Doing what I do best. Building it up in my mind until it became an endeavor so grand it was impossible to embark on it. I have big thoughts, big plans, big dreams, and this blog is a part of it. For the most part I detest blogs and those that do [maintain a blog.] Regardless, I decided there was at least some personal therapeutic value in maintaining one. Even if I don't become "internet famous" and have thousands of people e-mailing me, "OMG I feel all the exact same ways you do!!!1" regularly journaling should prove a nice way to organize my thoughts. To place them in a tangible form that I can view (semi-)objectively.

For as long as I can remember I've "bided my time." Even as a child, I spoke late, but when I eventually did, it was a full grammatically correct and accurately enunciated sentence. My ego and I like to think that this is a symbol for my overall behavior. A very positive way of writing off my habitual procrastination.

Ugh.

There's that word again. Maybe I just wasn't ready yet? Okay? Look at how much and how quickly I've typed this little bit. (You don't know, but I assure you this has flowed right off my fingertips in a manner of seconds.)

The entire purpose behind my starting this (despite a little spite aimed toward an unnamed individual) was to have somewhere to "rest". Somewhere to put all the thoughts and ideas that have not yet coalesced into a fictional narrative or poem or something. As a writer, I often spend good portions of my day poring over something I've written and trying to revise it. Either to shave it with Occam's Razor to something brief and concise or to expound upon something too glib. Or simply just re-wording something so that it sounds pleasant to the ear or looks cool to the eye. This was to be my escape. My vacation. I'm always going to write, it's just a fact of my life, but I don't always want to write under the pretense of trying to write SOMETHING. Maybe I just want to write to express myself. Directly. In the moment as it unfolds.

I'm gonna try not to fuck with fonts, or spacing or bolds or italics or anything, and any time I do is an example of where I have strayed from the path I've presently set down for myself.

If I want to create something beautiful or refined, then I will work on beauty and refinement. For now however, I just want to write. I don't have any one particular person that I can communicate everything I want to in this world, so this blog will become the perfect digital "friend" of sorts. An always-open ear. Nonjudgmental , no sass, no constructive criticism, no crippling praise. Nothing. Just a place to put words that NEED OUT OF MY HEAD.

"Thinking is the enemy of perfection."

Don't know who said that, but if it's true, then I personally am the personified enemy of perfection. I think more than anyone I know. I am often (and vehemently) told that I think TOO much. And to a degree, I agree. For a "character" viewed as I am, brash, bold, seemingly recklessly jumping into activity, the truth is, there is a secret process of meticulous analysis going on at all times. Sometimes to a debilitating degree. For a person that seems to "shoot from the hip" instead of thinking things through, you'd be surprised at how much I value simply shooting from the hip and how much I strive to do it.

Without my whims this blog would never have been created and I wouldn't be writing in it now. I'd still be waiting. For the perfect entry. Something symbolic, something transcendent. Something that would never transpire. So here I am. Fuck it. I'm just gonna type and type and type until I don't want to anymore, and if you don't like it, fuck you. This is not for you. It's for me. If you like it too, that's icing on the cake. Not the underlying goal.

And just like that "procrastination" has turned into "biding my time".

Me, Surrounded By Snow

2010-02-13T08:34:00.001-08:00

SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW ME SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW SNOW