[Ready For The Next Step]

Dear Harley,

I'M COMIN' FOR YOU.

Click this picture, and then click Like. Do it, or I will eat you. I mean, I might eat you anyway, but clicking Like will bump you down the list.

7.22.12 UPDATE - AT LEAST 11 more, PLEASE.

I have a few episodes written/outlined, and I'm working on a few more. Gonna try to shoot/edit/upload a "Vish-pilot" ASAP. The only thing I'm waiting for is my parents' visit. Once they've come and gone, unless I hear differently from Harley, I AM WALKING TO FUCKING CANADA. I've mapped it out. I know my fitness/capabilities and while it will be hard, IT WILL BE SO WORTH IT. And so goddamned Epic. Befitting of both the Vish name and the EpicMealTime brand. Should take a little less than a month.

Harley, while I would greatly appreciate the help getting up there (bike, motorcycle, car, airfare, piggyback, magical flying baconweave, the money for any of those, etc.) save your generosity til after I arrive. This is some crazy shit, everybody knows that, but when I pull it off it will reach proportions that can fittingly only be described as Epic. I can hear one or both of our voices now, "THIS NUTJOB WALKED OVER 600 MILES. ALL THE WAY FROM PENNSYLVANIA, THE CANADA OF AMERICA." Besides, yer gonna need all that youtube money to feed me, 'cause when I arrive, I'LL BE FUCKING STARVING.

Pretty much unless The Sauce Boss says otherwise, the plan is to spend some time with my parents and then secure my apartment until after I get back, whenever that may be. I'll need to pony up a couple of months of rent and of course a little money for food for the journey. I'll be packing EXTREMELY light. Probably just a single outfit and my phone along with money and a few toiletries. I'll record videoblogs along the way and post them here to keep everyone apprised of my progress. That way everyone can follow along from the comfort of their own homes.

My goal is in sight and I'm getting sick of waiting for Morenstein to pull the trigger. Stime to show some initiative.

Knowing me and my charm it would be all too easy to fund-raise for travel fare and or secure rides along the way, but that won't do. That's not Epic enough.

No no.

When I burst through that door, likely the leanest I've been in years, HUNGRY AS FUCK, barefoot and barechested, I'll scream at the top of my lungs "HARLEY. I'M HUNGRY." and the whole crew will look at me and know "That's a crazy motherfucker right there." CRAZY LIKE A FOX.

I'm tired of waiting for things to come to me. It's time to go for what I want. Vish-style. Zero fux given. BALLS DEEP.

GET AFTER IT.

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!

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

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.