The Black Swordsman

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

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

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

dreamtimespace

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 worlds 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

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 humanly 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 vehicles 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 night 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 a 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.

Click here to get ordained.

I think, therefore I am.

Cromartie High School (Live-Action Adaptation)

GAMEBOY

Potential bedroom setup

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

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

Osaka Bang

Cinnamon Chasers - Luv Deluxe

Bill Hicks - Revelations

Carl Sagan Music Videos

FLAIRS - TRUCKERS DELIGHT

Life is good. (EPIC APRIL)

.. 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.

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

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

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

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

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 would 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! Your 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."