Barefoot in The City

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

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』

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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 is 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.

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 it, 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

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

Stray Cat Strut

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)

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.