I legitimately had a dream that I was Wolverine last night.
It was -VERY- vivid. I can still recall the odd juxtaposition created by my superheavy skeleton anchoring me to the earth and my mutant musculature making me feel light as a feather. (Think of one of the floatier characters in Smash Bros. with both a Metal Cap and a Bunny Hood.) I can still taste the stogie I was chewin'/smokin' on. I can still feel the way the leather jacket and fitting blue jeans I was wearing stretched and strained over my animalian form. The pleasant sound/feel of my cowboy boot heels striking the metal deck underneath.
But most of all, I remember that split-second icy cold feeling between my knuckles when I would pop one of my claws. A pain so sharp and quick that it was quickly overridden by the pleasure chemicals secreted directly afterward. Indeed, in the short time that I inhabited Logan's bestial body, I became quite masochistic with how liberally I'd allow pain to be inflicted upon me. It was such a rush. And, I'm getting ahead of myself here, whenever heavy pain was issued, in the form of sustained gunfire or massive lacerations, the dull hot throb gave way to blinding white anger that we all know and love as his signature Berserker Rage. Mentally it's a very complex thing to semi-anticipate/look forward to taking a beating just because you know once you reach a certain level, you're unstoppable. It's like in old-school games where after your character takes enough damage, your sprite blinked quickly and you were momentarily invincible. Oh how I welcomed that state.
Anyhoo, it was night and I was on a huge metal freighter. I was on a mission, to find someone or something, though I can't remember exactly what. I was too enthralled in the physical sensations being bestowed upon me by my brain.
It was to be a stealth mission, but being nigh invulnerable, I didn't bother with any camouflage or tactical clothing. Just ma wifebeater, ma jeans, ma boots n ma jacket. And of course my claws.
I sauntered slowly, but purposefully, each footstrike rooting me to the floor in a way I can only describe as magnetic. When I wanted to be attached to ground, I was. When I wanted to break free, I did. It was intoxicating.
The occasional guard would wander into view and/or I'd burst into a room with one or two of them. More often than not, before they could even draw their weapons, I'd already swooped in and dipped a single claw into their neck or thereabouts. Gently setting the lifeless body down.
Toward the end though, right before I woke up, shit got hectic. I had already killed about a dozen or so men and my stogie was quite short. I'd acquired a key, a keycard, some important papers. I felt the mission was coming to a close, and thus, got a little reckless. I'd just popped the top of the room I was in and spryly jumped up to the surface. I had about three seconds back in the salty sea air, when *ZAAAAAANG!!!* my right eye reflexively closed and the white flash in my left eye quickly subsided. I'd been tagged. The ringing had just begun when *THOT, THOT, THOT* traveled down my still vibrating skull. The first two hit my metallic bones and ricocheted back out, but the last one tore through my sternocleidomastoid and was now accompanying the rush of blood filling my throat. I lost my cigar. All I tasted was metal. I swallowed the projectile and a good couple gulps of blood as I ducked low to see where I'd been hit from. The dense little rock shredded all the way down and I welcomed the pain.
I was losing my composure.
I could see him now. Little pussy, high in his tower with his rifle. I sprinted at the base, claws at the ready. There were only three supports I needed to sever and I knew gravity and physics would do the rest. Before I reached the first, I felt a nice hot spray of lead cut up my back from my left hip to my right shoulder. EXCELLENT. I slashed the metal beams quickly and spun before witnessing the result.
An all black-clad soldier had just swung up out of the hole I cut earlier and from the movement and his scent I could tell he wasn't human.
I planted my feet. He'd come to me.
He was sprinting in fast, but not faster than I could see, and his hands both went to one hip. He was drawing a katana, and with decent form. Still, I had him.
*CHA-THOOM!!* a nearby concussive blast caused me to throw my arms up in an x to shield my precious eyes (I'd need those for this fight) from the steadily mounting heat.
I could smell it. My own flesh cooking. Goddamnit. I really liked this jacket.
He was right on top of me, and the moment he brought his blade through the air, he switched sides. Instantaneously. He cut deep into my left shoulder, I could feel the muscle disconnect. That side is gonna be useless for a few minutes. I barely had enough time to block a strike at my head, don't even remember where it came from, but I do remember his sword meeting my metal-laced radius. That surprised him and bought me a much needed moment to get my bearings. I don't know how he switched sides at the last moment. Maybe a teleporter?
The bleeding on my shoulder had stopped, but the muscles weren't functional yet. Also, I could feel hot sticky liquid pouring down my right side.
The distinct coppery aroma queues me in that it's MY blood.
NOW WE'RE STARTIN' TO PARTY.
I DIDN'T EVEN SEE ANYONE TAG ME THERE.
I shake the tatters of my coat off.
He begins his onslaught. He's fast, real fast, but I'm all warmed up now. I'm not sure how he's doing it, and I really don't care, but he has some sort of a mirror power, every blow he throws transfers to the exact opposite side right before it lands. Maybe I don't need my eyes after all... The other men's screaming, both agony and orders is washing back into my ears and we've settled into a nice little flow. I'm learning to predict his moves and he's steadily backing away. Usually I can smell fear at this point, but for some reason his scent remains neutral, still his body language tells me he's scared. I AM EXCITED. I ramp up my assault and he's on the defensive.
The steel lands in my left side, a little below my armpit, I feel the pain, but with everything else that's going on it feels like a slap on the back before a big lift at the gym. I bring my left arm down on the other side and pinch in tight. GOT YOU.
I retract two claws on my right hand and dip in under his ribcage, aimed right at his heart. I get a quick fast jolt and my whole body vibrates as he peels off and backhandsprings.
OOOOOh.
I'm getting ready to re-engage him when it starts coming down. Raining down dense little rocks all over my body. I go to that -other- place, the one I go to when -this- happens. And for a moment, I am perfect. I am calm. I am free.
I can hear the gunfire for a bit and even feel my body being bandied about by the large-caliber bullets assailing it. I raise my arms and welcome the silver stones striking me from all angles.
HERE WE GO.
There are only split second images. Mirages of visuals. Terrified faces holding up hands with fingers severed clean.
When I come to, I'm surrounded by mangled corpses and one sparking mass. A robot or cyborg of some sort. His torso is -here- his head and limbs are -there-.
I'm breathing deeply and I feel amazing, just the way I do after yoga. I can feel all the tiny holes in my flesh lacing themselves back up and for a moment I wonder, "What next?"
Then I remember, I'm not Wolverine. I'm Josh Vish. And I wake up.
MAN, I love dreaming.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Noting the effects.
Life feels novel and new again.
I'm cold, it's winter, that's natural. Not natural for me, I usually run like a space-heater.
I'm being reckless, taking chances.
Visual patterns emerge like divine mathematics.
My hands take on an extra layer of profundity and navigate my IRL FPS
I have incredible friends. I'm incredibly grateful.
I'm cold, it's winter, that's natural. Not natural for me, I usually run like a space-heater.
I'm being reckless, taking chances.
Visual patterns emerge like divine mathematics.
My hands take on an extra layer of profundity and navigate my IRL FPS
I have incredible friends. I'm incredibly grateful.
Monday, January 2, 2012
Sunday, January 1, 2012
27 and 2012
I've been dreading this blog entry for close to a decade.
I knew it would one day come.
It's hard to believe it's finally here.
The beginning of what could very well be my last year on this earth.
1.1.2012
The first day of 2012. The first day of a new year.
I am 27, and it's 2012. OFFICIALLY. No take-backsies. For realsies.
When I was in my late teens, I prophesied my own death. Not in the serious manner that statement suggests, but in a far more serendipitous revelation that sent me down a spiral of mania culminating in my early 20s.
You ever ask yourself a question inside your head and then get a knee-jerk response from a "voice" within? The voice just being your inner thought, not a perceived separate entity.
You know, something like, what do I want to eat right now? And the next thought you have/hear is omelette with mushrooms, peppers and bacon.
Well, one day, in my youth, I randomly thought to myself "When will I die?" 27.
27.
Quick and unwavering. Knee-jerk. Instantaneous. 27, was the answer. "Well that's kinda freaky/unsettling..." I thought, followed by thinking, "Wonder how?" Car accident.
Car accident. The very next discernible bit of data was "car accident". No other possibilities listed. No lilting unsure tone. Smooth, definitive delivery. Car accident.
The damage done, I sat and thought and largely have done so ever since. I even used to have a countdown on a dry erase board much to the behest of a former flame.
That experience in and of itself is scary and threatens one with what I would categorize as "unhealthy" thoughts.
Couple that with the following information and learning it all for the first time en masse thanks to the internet and a voracious curiosity that has fueled me (and possibly defined my character) my entire life and you practically have a recipe for psychosis.
In an order that I don't care to remember I learned of 2012, and its significance to the Mayans, my best friend's self-predicted age of death (30, what he would be in 2012), The Age Of Aquarius, and the 27 Club.
Maya and 2012 - 13th b'ak'tun - End of the calendar. Misinterpreted as Armageddon. Meant to be taken as The End Of Time. A Mass Spiritual Awakening.
Age Of Aquarius - We're moving from the Age Of Pisces wherein we are the "fish" in "water". Human in life. Immersed in it. Powerless to affect its ebb and flow. In the Age Of Aquarius, we'll be the water-bearers. The Water won't control us or our lives, we'll control it.
27 Club - Many famous musicians and performers have signed off at this age and I fit right in with them. Eerily well.
In my early 20s I was dating a delightfully intelligent young asian girl. (I love asian girls.) She was South Korean (I love Japanese and South Korean girls) and quick as a whip. Her beautiful outside shell was merely icing on the cake compared the gorgeous brain/intellect she housed within. Her personality and wit pulled on me like a black hole and her ethnicity/beauty communicated The Fates were at work. They sealed the deal. It seemed "too good to be true". (It was.)
In certain ways, she enabled me. Unfortunately an intellect like mine is hard to contend with when it's set its sights on a goal.
My name is Joshua, I desire to help everyone, I get along with pretty much everyone I meet, remarkably wise despite my youth, surprisingly heartfelt compared to my pervasive silliness, a naturalist concerned with whole foods and sustainability, a fierce thinker with deep interest in The Eastern Ways, a psychonaut pioneering the farthest reaches of my mind with the aid of entheogens, I was born on Christmas Eve, I'm white, I have/enjoy beards, I don't wear shoes... She, I, and many others had all been led to the same conclusion: I was the Second Coming Of Christ.
Having one person tell you they think you might be Jesus after you've lightly theorized this independently is surreal and disconcerting. Having several people do this, several times a day, without provocation is a great way to schism from reality entirely.
I've always prided myself on Observing The Observer and Breaking The Fourth Wall, so after some pensive introspection and careful analysis of my overall character and past experiences, a new more terrifying theory surfaced: I was the Anti-Christ. Nowhere in the bible does it say that the Anti-Christ, WILLINGLY, MALEVOLENTLY brings about the end of mankind. It says simply that he will unite them and ultimately lead to their downfall. It seemed perfectly reasonable to me then that he may accomplish this without setting out to do so. What if he made an invention, or gave a speech, or something that led to everyone being connected and then once THAT occurred the new Collective fucked things up on its own? This quickly became incorporated into Theory 3.0: I, Josh Vish, am both the Second Coming Of The Christ and The Anti-Christ. It stood to reason that with my innate charisma and intelligence and my burning desire to connect with the entire planet that I could totally be responsible for uniting everyone. And even though it was in the name of Love, some sort of a horrible perversion of my ideals might occur leading to cataclysm.
I'd pretty much resolved myself to loserhood/obscurity. For the sake of the planet.
Then I came to realize that a good deed is a good deed is a good deed. Like the woman that dumped expensive amounts of anointing oil on Jesus. The people around said "Hey! She coulda sold that and bought food for kids or something!" "Yeah!" "Yeah!" They all said and all patted each other on the back. "She wasn't thinking right! She didn't do THE MOST good she could do!" And Jesus shut dem bitches up with, "She did was she thought was good, and that is enough."
BOOM.
That it came from her heart and was genuinely altruistic is what exonerates her of folly.
Here's this suave motherfucker, strollin' from town to town, wearin' sandals, havin' a beard, spittin' wisdom, healin' niggas, preachin', just bein' an all around badass and now he's in YOUR town. Show your appreciation/reverence. GO! And the first thing she could think of was to douse his ass in Anointing Oil. Good enough, the J Man said. Appreciated.
*Side note, Anointing Oil was made from Cannabis...
If you bought someone a pizza and then when they got home they were too full to eat the surprise steak someone else had prepared for them, are you a bad person because you indirectly contributed to them missing out on steak? Fuck no. Easy answer.
Shit. YOU DICK. How dare you buy me pizza?!?! What a thoughtless asshole! Did you ever think that maybe steak was waiting for me?! You're evil. This confirms it.
NO.
So why should I feel bad if my efforts to Unite The Planet In Harmony end with Apocalypse?
I won't.
I've since matured, and integrated my thoughts and experience into a pretty stable worldview.
I'm not Jesus. I'm not the Anti-Christ. I'm Josh Vish. Not-Quite-Jesus. Jesus-like, but not actually Jesus.
I've talked before about my belief in what is essentially a more positive slant on Solipsism. I believe I am talking to myself right now. I believe we (as in not just humans, but EVERYTHING) are all one "thing" (call it God, if you want, I do) that willfully split into all these separate parts for the sole purpose of fun. Yes, you read it, my model of spirituality, philosophy, science and religion is the Cosmos is the answer to Cosmic Boredom. Divine Bordeom. We Weren't and Now We Are. Simple as that. Time is a perception, not an absolute value and all things exist HERE, NOW. They just aren't available to humans and our limited perception. WHICH IS OKAY. THAT'S THE POINT. These meatsuits are blinders from infinity.
America, cheeseburgers, facebook, alcohol. It's all okay.
Anyhoo, while I no longer believe myself to be The Second Coming/The Anti-Christ, I still sometimes fear it. I have big plans to put into place this year and I'd be lying if I didn't profess being motivated by fear. Fear of Mortality and fear of The Unknown. I've never been one to be controlled by my fear, but fear is a tricky thing. On the physical plane, if something creates terror in me, I sprint at it. Literally. However in the intangible realm of thought and possibility it's not always so easy to choose your target.
I love movies. I love everything about them. I love stories, I love symbolism, I love photography, color, kinetics, dialogue, language, art, music, etc. And I especially love movies' ability to transcend time and space. To alleviate barriers and blur boundaries. Cinema unites us like nothing else can. Well, except maybe the Internet, but still. MILLIONS of people watch a single film and BAM! just like that, it's ingrained in the collective. Unconscious AND conscious. Like orators, books and comics before it, movies are the most successful expression of communicating to everyone at once.
For a long time now I've wanted to be a part of movies, and even have. I want even more involvement. I want it to be how I pay rent and afford food. (I AM HUNGRY.)
So in 2012, I will continue down that path, Acting, Writing, Directing, Filmmaking, and if my predictions are correct, as I gain more and more notoriety, and more influence, I'll be poised to spark ACTUAL change on this planet. Whether with my voice or a film or a book, etc.
So far, the only direct attempt at omnipresence that I'm endeavoring upon is a simple birthday wish. I'm going to make it a facebook event and everything. (That's how you know its SERIOUS BUSINESS.)
This year, for my 28th birthday and last day of being 27, 12.24.2012, I would like for EVERYONE, literally every single human being on the planet capable of thought, to stop and think and focus on LOVE. Oh and making the summer in Pittsburgh a little longer and the winter a little shorter. That last part is a selfish desire though.
So that means that at one point in time, the entire planet's population of humans will be united in an activity AND thinking of me. POWERFUL STUFF. I get my Ego stroked AND help the planet. WIN/WIN. And then, from there, if my fame dwindles to niche crowds instead of the entire planet, so be it. I will've accomplished my goal.
Hopefully 2013 will consist of spending time in Japan while continuing to make movies, smoke cannabis and lift weights.
I'm going to attempt to get to Japan in 2012 as well, but it will be from more of a tourist standpoint with the end goal of Uniting The Planet in mind. Afterward, in 2013, my time in Japan will focus SOLEY on Japan.
If I'm still alive and we're still here, in 2013 I'd like to be:
making movies for a living
lifting weights regularly
swimming routinely
practicing yoga
smoking cannabis whenever it tickles my fancy
furthering my research on entheogens
living in Japan for indefinite periods of time
on my way to connecting with my future wife
eating flesh and fresh fruits and vegetables every single day
Beyond 2013 -
Wife and kids.
Living in Japan and Western PA.
Making movies.
Doing standup.
Working out regularly.
Drawing.
Writing.
Experimenting with Farming.
Hunting.
Owning Land.
I have lots of goals and am fervently in love with the leapfrog pace of obtaining them and setting new ones. This is guaranteed to be a great year for me.
One last stitch of anxiety I'd like to address. The focus on my own mortality that 27 and 2012 have brought does not overwhelm me in the ways you might think it does. I don't care about death. I don't care about dying. It's no big deal. I'm not afraid of it. What I am afraid of is: not living. I'm afraid of not accomplishing all I want to, before dying. Even then, that's not really a concern.
Truthfully, the most unsettling anxiety this age and year have brought me is a very stereotypically human one: my parents mortality.
All this focus on death has brought an unsettling amount of consideration to the question of when will my parents die. I am terrified of losing either of them. As Buddhist as I am about my own death and the fate of the entire planet, I cannot shake the very present, very powerful fear of losing my parents.
It was the thorn in my lion's paw after conquering my thoughts on my personal mortality. I've decided that I want to live indefinitely. Not Immortal per se, just continuing as long as I wish. And as this is my wish and I've set my intent on it, I will have it. That's how things work here. Intent>Action>Reality BUT, I cannot control how my parents think/feel. Nor would I want to. Neither of them would accept life extension, I'm sure. I'm in fact sure they are just as okay with their eventual end as I am. Yet, I am not okay with theirs.
Maybe that's another not as concrete goal for 2012 and hopefully 2013?
I keep thinking that if I get rich enough, soon enough, that I can retire my parents and learn everything about them I want to know, so that when the end is near I'll be more comfortable with it. As it stands however, I want more time. I miss them.
I also hope to be institutional in bringing about Mind-Uploading and Prosthetic Bodies. Those are certainly beyond 2013 endeavors. They're going to take time. Even if they were here, now, I just don't see my parents being keen on participating.
I've learned to move past fears of my own mortality and those of my parents and the planet with the simple realization that everything is as it should be. If I don't ride around in cars all this year for fear of dying, how would I feel if on 12.24.2012 a car "randomly" fell out of the sky and killed me anyway? Pretty stupid. As it stands I'm going to die one day, in fact all of us are, but I'm not going to let that dominate my actions and enjoyment in the here and now. I'm not going to be careless or reckless or do anything to hasten its arrival but I'm also not going to diminish my quality of life with unnecessary precaution.
2012 is going to be my year. 2012: The Year Of Josh Vish.
It's either going to be my and/or our last year and thus I'll/we'll go out with a bang, or it's going to be a fierce start to whole new lifestyle. The initial explosion that sends the rocket hurtling upward into space.
Either way, it's guaranteed to be awesome.
Hello 2012, I've been waiting for you. For a long time.
My goal, for 2012 and the rest of my life: To realign mankind with the harmony of nature.
I knew it would one day come.
It's hard to believe it's finally here.
The beginning of what could very well be my last year on this earth.
1.1.2012
The first day of 2012. The first day of a new year.
I am 27, and it's 2012. OFFICIALLY. No take-backsies. For realsies.
When I was in my late teens, I prophesied my own death. Not in the serious manner that statement suggests, but in a far more serendipitous revelation that sent me down a spiral of mania culminating in my early 20s.
You ever ask yourself a question inside your head and then get a knee-jerk response from a "voice" within? The voice just being your inner thought, not a perceived separate entity.
You know, something like, what do I want to eat right now? And the next thought you have/hear is omelette with mushrooms, peppers and bacon.
Well, one day, in my youth, I randomly thought to myself "When will I die?" 27.
27.
Quick and unwavering. Knee-jerk. Instantaneous. 27, was the answer. "Well that's kinda freaky/unsettling..." I thought, followed by thinking, "Wonder how?" Car accident.
Car accident. The very next discernible bit of data was "car accident". No other possibilities listed. No lilting unsure tone. Smooth, definitive delivery. Car accident.
The damage done, I sat and thought and largely have done so ever since. I even used to have a countdown on a dry erase board much to the behest of a former flame.
That experience in and of itself is scary and threatens one with what I would categorize as "unhealthy" thoughts.
Couple that with the following information and learning it all for the first time en masse thanks to the internet and a voracious curiosity that has fueled me (and possibly defined my character) my entire life and you practically have a recipe for psychosis.
In an order that I don't care to remember I learned of 2012, and its significance to the Mayans, my best friend's self-predicted age of death (30, what he would be in 2012), The Age Of Aquarius, and the 27 Club.
Maya and 2012 - 13th b'ak'tun - End of the calendar. Misinterpreted as Armageddon. Meant to be taken as The End Of Time. A Mass Spiritual Awakening.
Age Of Aquarius - We're moving from the Age Of Pisces wherein we are the "fish" in "water". Human in life. Immersed in it. Powerless to affect its ebb and flow. In the Age Of Aquarius, we'll be the water-bearers. The Water won't control us or our lives, we'll control it.
27 Club - Many famous musicians and performers have signed off at this age and I fit right in with them. Eerily well.
In my early 20s I was dating a delightfully intelligent young asian girl. (I love asian girls.) She was South Korean (I love Japanese and South Korean girls) and quick as a whip. Her beautiful outside shell was merely icing on the cake compared the gorgeous brain/intellect she housed within. Her personality and wit pulled on me like a black hole and her ethnicity/beauty communicated The Fates were at work. They sealed the deal. It seemed "too good to be true". (It was.)
In certain ways, she enabled me. Unfortunately an intellect like mine is hard to contend with when it's set its sights on a goal.
My name is Joshua, I desire to help everyone, I get along with pretty much everyone I meet, remarkably wise despite my youth, surprisingly heartfelt compared to my pervasive silliness, a naturalist concerned with whole foods and sustainability, a fierce thinker with deep interest in The Eastern Ways, a psychonaut pioneering the farthest reaches of my mind with the aid of entheogens, I was born on Christmas Eve, I'm white, I have/enjoy beards, I don't wear shoes... She, I, and many others had all been led to the same conclusion: I was the Second Coming Of Christ.
Having one person tell you they think you might be Jesus after you've lightly theorized this independently is surreal and disconcerting. Having several people do this, several times a day, without provocation is a great way to schism from reality entirely.
I've always prided myself on Observing The Observer and Breaking The Fourth Wall, so after some pensive introspection and careful analysis of my overall character and past experiences, a new more terrifying theory surfaced: I was the Anti-Christ. Nowhere in the bible does it say that the Anti-Christ, WILLINGLY, MALEVOLENTLY brings about the end of mankind. It says simply that he will unite them and ultimately lead to their downfall. It seemed perfectly reasonable to me then that he may accomplish this without setting out to do so. What if he made an invention, or gave a speech, or something that led to everyone being connected and then once THAT occurred the new Collective fucked things up on its own? This quickly became incorporated into Theory 3.0: I, Josh Vish, am both the Second Coming Of The Christ and The Anti-Christ. It stood to reason that with my innate charisma and intelligence and my burning desire to connect with the entire planet that I could totally be responsible for uniting everyone. And even though it was in the name of Love, some sort of a horrible perversion of my ideals might occur leading to cataclysm.
I'd pretty much resolved myself to loserhood/obscurity. For the sake of the planet.
Then I came to realize that a good deed is a good deed is a good deed. Like the woman that dumped expensive amounts of anointing oil on Jesus. The people around said "Hey! She coulda sold that and bought food for kids or something!" "Yeah!" "Yeah!" They all said and all patted each other on the back. "She wasn't thinking right! She didn't do THE MOST good she could do!" And Jesus shut dem bitches up with, "She did was she thought was good, and that is enough."
BOOM.
That it came from her heart and was genuinely altruistic is what exonerates her of folly.
Here's this suave motherfucker, strollin' from town to town, wearin' sandals, havin' a beard, spittin' wisdom, healin' niggas, preachin', just bein' an all around badass and now he's in YOUR town. Show your appreciation/reverence. GO! And the first thing she could think of was to douse his ass in Anointing Oil. Good enough, the J Man said. Appreciated.
*Side note, Anointing Oil was made from Cannabis...
If you bought someone a pizza and then when they got home they were too full to eat the surprise steak someone else had prepared for them, are you a bad person because you indirectly contributed to them missing out on steak? Fuck no. Easy answer.
Shit. YOU DICK. How dare you buy me pizza?!?! What a thoughtless asshole! Did you ever think that maybe steak was waiting for me?! You're evil. This confirms it.
NO.
So why should I feel bad if my efforts to Unite The Planet In Harmony end with Apocalypse?
I won't.
I've since matured, and integrated my thoughts and experience into a pretty stable worldview.
I'm not Jesus. I'm not the Anti-Christ. I'm Josh Vish. Not-Quite-Jesus. Jesus-like, but not actually Jesus.
I've talked before about my belief in what is essentially a more positive slant on Solipsism. I believe I am talking to myself right now. I believe we (as in not just humans, but EVERYTHING) are all one "thing" (call it God, if you want, I do) that willfully split into all these separate parts for the sole purpose of fun. Yes, you read it, my model of spirituality, philosophy, science and religion is the Cosmos is the answer to Cosmic Boredom. Divine Bordeom. We Weren't and Now We Are. Simple as that. Time is a perception, not an absolute value and all things exist HERE, NOW. They just aren't available to humans and our limited perception. WHICH IS OKAY. THAT'S THE POINT. These meatsuits are blinders from infinity.
America, cheeseburgers, facebook, alcohol. It's all okay.
Anyhoo, while I no longer believe myself to be The Second Coming/The Anti-Christ, I still sometimes fear it. I have big plans to put into place this year and I'd be lying if I didn't profess being motivated by fear. Fear of Mortality and fear of The Unknown. I've never been one to be controlled by my fear, but fear is a tricky thing. On the physical plane, if something creates terror in me, I sprint at it. Literally. However in the intangible realm of thought and possibility it's not always so easy to choose your target.
I love movies. I love everything about them. I love stories, I love symbolism, I love photography, color, kinetics, dialogue, language, art, music, etc. And I especially love movies' ability to transcend time and space. To alleviate barriers and blur boundaries. Cinema unites us like nothing else can. Well, except maybe the Internet, but still. MILLIONS of people watch a single film and BAM! just like that, it's ingrained in the collective. Unconscious AND conscious. Like orators, books and comics before it, movies are the most successful expression of communicating to everyone at once.
For a long time now I've wanted to be a part of movies, and even have. I want even more involvement. I want it to be how I pay rent and afford food. (I AM HUNGRY.)
So in 2012, I will continue down that path, Acting, Writing, Directing, Filmmaking, and if my predictions are correct, as I gain more and more notoriety, and more influence, I'll be poised to spark ACTUAL change on this planet. Whether with my voice or a film or a book, etc.
So far, the only direct attempt at omnipresence that I'm endeavoring upon is a simple birthday wish. I'm going to make it a facebook event and everything. (That's how you know its SERIOUS BUSINESS.)
This year, for my 28th birthday and last day of being 27, 12.24.2012, I would like for EVERYONE, literally every single human being on the planet capable of thought, to stop and think and focus on LOVE. Oh and making the summer in Pittsburgh a little longer and the winter a little shorter. That last part is a selfish desire though.
So that means that at one point in time, the entire planet's population of humans will be united in an activity AND thinking of me. POWERFUL STUFF. I get my Ego stroked AND help the planet. WIN/WIN. And then, from there, if my fame dwindles to niche crowds instead of the entire planet, so be it. I will've accomplished my goal.
Hopefully 2013 will consist of spending time in Japan while continuing to make movies, smoke cannabis and lift weights.
I'm going to attempt to get to Japan in 2012 as well, but it will be from more of a tourist standpoint with the end goal of Uniting The Planet in mind. Afterward, in 2013, my time in Japan will focus SOLEY on Japan.
If I'm still alive and we're still here, in 2013 I'd like to be:
making movies for a living
lifting weights regularly
swimming routinely
practicing yoga
smoking cannabis whenever it tickles my fancy
furthering my research on entheogens
living in Japan for indefinite periods of time
on my way to connecting with my future wife
eating flesh and fresh fruits and vegetables every single day
Beyond 2013 -
Wife and kids.
Living in Japan and Western PA.
Making movies.
Doing standup.
Working out regularly.
Drawing.
Writing.
Experimenting with Farming.
Hunting.
Owning Land.
I have lots of goals and am fervently in love with the leapfrog pace of obtaining them and setting new ones. This is guaranteed to be a great year for me.
One last stitch of anxiety I'd like to address. The focus on my own mortality that 27 and 2012 have brought does not overwhelm me in the ways you might think it does. I don't care about death. I don't care about dying. It's no big deal. I'm not afraid of it. What I am afraid of is: not living. I'm afraid of not accomplishing all I want to, before dying. Even then, that's not really a concern.
Truthfully, the most unsettling anxiety this age and year have brought me is a very stereotypically human one: my parents mortality.
All this focus on death has brought an unsettling amount of consideration to the question of when will my parents die. I am terrified of losing either of them. As Buddhist as I am about my own death and the fate of the entire planet, I cannot shake the very present, very powerful fear of losing my parents.
It was the thorn in my lion's paw after conquering my thoughts on my personal mortality. I've decided that I want to live indefinitely. Not Immortal per se, just continuing as long as I wish. And as this is my wish and I've set my intent on it, I will have it. That's how things work here. Intent>Action>Reality BUT, I cannot control how my parents think/feel. Nor would I want to. Neither of them would accept life extension, I'm sure. I'm in fact sure they are just as okay with their eventual end as I am. Yet, I am not okay with theirs.
Maybe that's another not as concrete goal for 2012 and hopefully 2013?
I keep thinking that if I get rich enough, soon enough, that I can retire my parents and learn everything about them I want to know, so that when the end is near I'll be more comfortable with it. As it stands however, I want more time. I miss them.
I also hope to be institutional in bringing about Mind-Uploading and Prosthetic Bodies. Those are certainly beyond 2013 endeavors. They're going to take time. Even if they were here, now, I just don't see my parents being keen on participating.
I've learned to move past fears of my own mortality and those of my parents and the planet with the simple realization that everything is as it should be. If I don't ride around in cars all this year for fear of dying, how would I feel if on 12.24.2012 a car "randomly" fell out of the sky and killed me anyway? Pretty stupid. As it stands I'm going to die one day, in fact all of us are, but I'm not going to let that dominate my actions and enjoyment in the here and now. I'm not going to be careless or reckless or do anything to hasten its arrival but I'm also not going to diminish my quality of life with unnecessary precaution.
2012 is going to be my year. 2012: The Year Of Josh Vish.
It's either going to be my and/or our last year and thus I'll/we'll go out with a bang, or it's going to be a fierce start to whole new lifestyle. The initial explosion that sends the rocket hurtling upward into space.
Either way, it's guaranteed to be awesome.
Hello 2012, I've been waiting for you. For a long time.
My goal, for 2012 and the rest of my life: To realign mankind with the harmony of nature.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
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.
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.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
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.
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!
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!
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
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.
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