Sunday Morning Thoughts 1.12.14: In or On Jeopardy

I’m practicing a technique of some writer who wrote this brilliant book that became a pretty good movie that a lot of people liked. The idea, among the many he suggested, was to set a timer for when you sit down to write. I’ve set myself for an hour and have already dawdled through the first few minutes. Still, since I’ve begun this current attempt, the pressure has kept me moving forward.

And if I were to make up some big metaphorical lie, I could tell you that I need to do the same thing with my whole vague life. But perhaps I live without truly feeling all of the pressure that I would or should be placing upon myself and therefore can progress no further. Oh, so many times in the last few weeks have I succumb to my body’s tiredness and slide away to non-specific and slightly terrifying dreams when they can be remembered. They say that your dreams are supposed to be your own unconscious mind attempting to tell you about some injustice it sees in the rest of your waking life. If that were the case, I may have to kindly ask my unconscious mind to lay down the crack pipe and get a little bit of focus. Riddles are not the thing to be had in the effort of problem solving.

But since I was lying, perhaps the mysterious and ever eluding desire that drive such an individual forward is exact what is needed. I could argue that it is, for a time at least, and say that there is no greater driving force in the history of humanity than that of unraveling mystery and revealing purpose through that which makes no sense. For myself, boredom arrives in force when I am stuck with the same routine for any length of time I deem to be unfit. Normalcy is a dread. I have always grown weary of standing in one place, which is usually and eventually adjusted as it needs to be.

But reflections in the past can be so tainted. Memory is far from perfect. Just ask any crime scene analyst. What is remembered may not have been what had happened. Either way, there is no way to prove what was. We only know what is and fight or flee the impending fulfillment of a single timeline. So there won’t be any more about any of that then.

The struggle is being able to say, or make, or play something that someone else hasn’t quite done yet. You could say that I, as a youth in the farthest point this species has gone in time, that my ability to absorb information scattered across the past would allow for me to hold an idea composed of collaboration but lacking on uniqueness. All the art and knowledge of the world is at the disposal of my finger tips, yet with that I am robbed of the experience of discovering something new.

You could say that, if you were a total dipshit. Nay, for it is I who say, that the ability to experience that of those who came before me left behind is exactly that which creates a perspective that has yet to be had. And to toot my own horn, I have been able to steer clear of a lot of the popular cultural consumption that plagues the youth and aged alike in the saturated market of product placed entertainment.

From here the burden, which I shall carry with me for most of my days, is what to do with all of this. All the things that have inspired hope and jaded my edges helped to sculpt this experience but what is to be done with it. Turning potential energy into kinetic is not as easy as the Science Guy makes it seem sometimes.

Yet I should sell nothing short. In fact, I won’t sell anything at all. It is my aim to not try to profit off of this life, though I do plan to enjoy it. And so I have been trying to again. My health is getting better, simply because I’m trying to pay more mind to it. I’ve been keeping on all of those oh, so important outlets and trying to weed out the negative impact. It is far from going perfectly, which is exactly how I expect it to go. I hold no desire to wish for things to be without making the attempt to make them so myself.

I am nowhere near where I need or want to be in life, which is the truly the greatest thing I have. I still have a vast world of mystery left to trek through and the only thing that keeps me from it is the same thing that keeps me from everything else.

Um… what is, myself?

Correct, you can now pick the next category.

I’ll take “Where to go from here?” for 200.

The answer: Anything you want.

Um… what are, the possibilities?

Correct.

By the way, I didn’t go past the hour mark. Some would say life is about the little victories. I would say that every victory is great and grand.

Sunday Morning Thoughts 1.5.14: To the Queen of Farting Face Masks

It is true. Life gets harder as you get older. I always suppose I thought they were shitting me but I’ve come to find that with each day, the burden and price of existence build in weight and mass. Our timelines strain and creak from overuse. People fade away and all of us eventually die in this life, despite whatever beliefs in afterlives are held. As they say, on a long enough timeline, everyone’s chance of survival drops to zero.

Some would call that last paragraph pessimistic. I, on the other hand, would not. Remember friends, there is a line between being pessimistic and just having a proper sense of reality. I would be more wary of too much optimism. It’s a fool’s dope after all and junkies can hardly ever admit that they are junkies. And if they do, they usually cease being junkies soon after.

The struggle is the balance between reality and hope. We can only hope for the future, because it is the only part that we have all yet to see in life. In fact, you are in the future right now, as you read this. It could be minutes (depending on how fast I am able to keep this flow going), or hours, or days. It could be years if you’re a fan (unlikely) or even me from the future. I could easily turn this into a letter to myself through time but I feel that future me would find that terribly clichéd and lazy. I do trust that future me will laugh, if I ever get around to reading this. I always have when I think about when I was younger and doped on fool’s hope I used to be.

But here we are now, in our overlapping version of the present. Me, as I write- and you, as you read. You may know who I am, or at least could get an idea from mulling about these collected ramblings. However, I do not know you. Even if I do know you in this life, I do not know you here and now. I take this quasi-beatnik, supposedly philosophical, emotionally driven dump for you to look at, which is a terrible thing to do. Yet it is what many of my heroes have done for me and I have a wonder and addiction to the idea of it. I wish I could say that I’m addicted to writing but these days it’s almost as though I’ve quit. The desperation is here and all I need to do is trade out some of those many dirty habits and replace them with the proper ones.

This has made me ponder on the wonder that is writing. Though I adore the art of good conversation, there is nothing I know that is as cathartic as a good vent at the keyboard. But I suppose that balance comes into play again.

Before I get off topic, I want to dance around an idea. Though I can’t say for sure, I am going to go ahead and reckon that when you read something by oh, let’s say your favorite fiction author, that you have a sense of knowing who they are. There is always a voice present and as I’m sure they planted specific things in specific places to best replicate the ideas they held at the time. They create the best replication that they can to express the perspective that they themselves had.

And even if the authors themselves don’t emerge in your mind, that characters must. Even if you don’t like a character and agree with how they think and act and whatnot, you still see how and why they do it. Justification is for those with hindsight.

But I still haven’t gotten to the thought, which is as follows- no matter what you think, most of us will never meet those who write what we read. How I wish I knew Vonnegut and Kerouac, or know Palahniuk and McCarthy, but I do not. They leave whatever ideas they want me to have, and I straggle along behind them picking up what was left behind.

And damn grand about it, I say!

To be able refine ideas to words at a pace that they need to fall from a mind that has been sharpening with each love, hate, mistake, wake,  innovation, heartbreak, loss, gain, sprain, action in vain, drunken stupor, promotion, demotion, commotion, devotion, lack of closure, over-exposure, bar mitzvah, wedding and funeral- what a thing that must be. And is and I know because I’ve done it, just not on any noticeable scale yet. But I’ll be starting my ascent soon. Though future me might stick up for present me and use that hindsight of his to say I’ve been going at it for much long. Such a sucker he is sometimes.

I won’t bore with more details on what my plans are. I’d rather talk about them once they start happening. But I will tell you that my father decided that he wants to be buried in sandals. Jesus wore them and he wants to kick it off right when he meets him. So I’ve got a new bit to punch up one of my old stand up jokes. And that’s a good thing.

Sunday Morning Thoughts 3.10.13: Job Posting Confessionals

So it’s Wednesday, big deal. So the last one of these was a month ago? Wanna fight about it? I’ve been busy… sort of. It’s a story whose details are not terribly exciting or anything like that. Besides, the more relevant point would be where I am standing now.

Which is… huh… ummm… good.

Yeah, crazy as that sounds I’m doing pretty damn good. Some parts of my life are great, or grand, or spectacular. Others are not so much but that matters not, as the overall standing and feeling as I click away now is pretty damn good. Which for those of you not savvy with the hip lingo, is better than just doing good, or ok, or swell or anything like that.

How did I get here? Well that is none of your damn business friend. No offense intended but… no actually, offense intended. Sorry for the slip up there.

But seriously though, I’m not going to tell you how but I will tell you why. It diverges from the point, you see. I’m not going to waste this here moment in the present for something idling off into the past. This moment is for the future which I am now dangerously hurdling myself into.

I don’t know how to stop it, or slow it down, or reverse it but judging from how things have come to be, I say fuck it. Let’s ride this thib out and see where it goes.

So we have things to attend to which we will discuss now.

First, the spring is upon us and any true sentient being should understand how damn important that is. The dreary winter is ending and we are going to be infested with life all around us where there was once so much dead. Beautiful dead, those few times when we managed to get some snow on the ground. But that death has brought life and the cycle continue, which to me, has to be a sign that things are still doing ok.

Winter ended up being a reminder that things are not well, holding high temperatures and a few renegade snow storms. A rather dreary spirit all around.

Second, though this is in no particular order of importance, would have to be the pressing matter of you, the universe, getting me employed. I would preferably like to have a job that pays enough so I can live and occasionally have a beer or six, like a responsible adult is able to do. Now I know it seems like I should be the one making the effort but I figure that I have so much work to do beyond these first few steps of life, that I could just skate by. You know?

Not happening? Well, it was worth a try. Alright, you damn universe, I’ll play your game but prepare for endless pranks and shenanigans once I reach my power. My trickery shall know no equal.

Not buying that either? Fine, I’ll do all that ‘get a job’ stuff that the rest of the humans my age are doing.

Pardon my lack of enthusiasm but I just don’t really like those odds. Can you blame me though? Things are bad, even here in the empire, and no one is talking about anything getting better. Here and there, little victories pop up only to splash drops of light on the huge and vast landscape of corruption, waste, hate and violence in this world. You can’t ignore it and yet everyone does.

And what am I supposed to do? Work my way up the ladder and watch as everything starts to fall around me? Reach the top to hold nothing but ashes in my hands?

Well there I go, potentially exaggerating again. I should have just immediately professed, simply, that I am afraid. Petrified really. I have to take part in a lot of the things that I’ve only been speaking of with oh, so much zeal from the safety of books and classrooms, with a few glimpses of the dysfunction in the adult human world. So I just have to adjust, as I’ve known I would. It just is, dig?

Third, and of equal importance to all the rest, would be this matter of one maintaining a soul is such a treacherous land. I live in a place that has gotten so fat on its own self righteousness, they have forgotten what made them anything even close to right in the first place.

This nation o’mine was created on the idea that the guys who made it might be wrong, and probably were, and probably hoped to be. Yet they knew enough, that if they created a place where a man could exist in comfort, without excess, and worked at something that could feed and sustain his fellow man, in all areas of healthy human life, that whole peace thing would get figured out. They considered a bit of philosophy and existentialism to be vital for the continuance of man.

Of course at the time, this would have only applied to white males who already owned stuff but this flaw was known. Sacrifices, breaks eggs, fight omelets with fire. You know, that sort of thing. Shitty reasoning but hey, times were shitty. But they trusted that the future would continue to bring enlightenment to the lives of all, or something like that.

We messed up at some point after that. I can’t tell for sure when. History says one thing but I’ve only been around for a few trips around the sun and really only remember the events of the last ten years or so. And even then, and really, even now, I have the lens of the point of view I currently hold. I just like to think that has developed a little bit.

Fourthly, and possibly most important but that’s up to you (my money is on most important), would be remembering a little something when dealing with your fellow man. All of them. And I mean humans, not gender specific.

Whether you want to believe that we are all the same or that you are more special doesn’t matter. We are stuck with each other on this rock. Whatever imaginary borders or beliefs we make up doesn’t change our circumstance. Until we figure out somewhere else to go and how to get there, on Earth we shall stay. Unless of course, you know, doom, destruction and all that.

How? This time you shall get it, or at least as much as I have to offer.

We as a species are unbelievably irresponsible with our technology. We are also irresponsible with our values and our treatment of others. We have, as a total species, harvested enough energy to literally, not figuratively, destroy a planet. This planet. We have that kind of power and yet my parents are still going on to each other about the electric bill? I don’t know who came up with this use for massive amounts of energy, but if you do, kick him in the crotch.

We are addicted to entertainment and of a truly awful quality. I thought I broke my phone and went a few days without one and I tell you, I remembered what freedom felt like. No one could get me. But the isolation that occurs today without one is noticeable.

To fix it would be simple, and is simple. Unfortunately, we’ve gotten very bad at simple things. You just have to stop and look around. Forget everything you think you know and look around. What you see is your reality and you are responsible for it. Play nice with others and don’t be greedy. That’s all it takes.

And if by any chance you are an employer who is potentially looking to hire the human being you suspect is behind this rather drawn out rant, I would like to share something with you. If any of these words resonated to you and share at least the very vague belief that all of us and no one else have to fix our own world, then you sound like the kind of person I want to work for. And please, trust me when I say that when I want to work on something, it gets done.

I will not confirm or deny my identity, though it may already be known.

Sunday Morning Thoughts 5.27.12

There has to be something that I’ve been looking for. Right? But then I suppose the question would be what or whether I truly deep down inside know what that something is. I want to know why I can still ache for happiness I’m not sure I’ve ever had.

That’s most likely because I’m searching more for fulfillment than happiness. To be happy is to be simple and vain. Happiness is the cheap flowers sold on the side of a street that could be bought for someone. Happiness is not knowing whether those flowers were thrown out. People talk about happiness on Facebook, which I do and have done which makes me no better than the rest. To be happy is to have the consistent comfort of another human soul who may or may not mean much or anything at all.

I think it’s time that I give up on the pursuit of happiness for something more substantial. It will most certainly be more difficult and could be impossible but for some reason that is not known to me to be natural or un, I have to go on. There is a simple life that I could take, but if I did such a thing something that smells like regret would haunt and fill my mind.

Sorry I’m being such a bummer. I haven’t gotten laid in a while.

There’s a bit of light shining through my window. The wind is blowing the trees out there. It’s a world that is very much alive. My search for an answer has just turned into a search for words which I am just as lost for. Hence the poor prose preceding all points before here.

When the future comes to pass, it’s usually quiet and hard to notice. Distraction from whatever you’d like, keeps you slower than the passing world. The air shakes around me in shapes that only pavement can make and I am no steps closer to being anywhere but here which is, as of now, not a poetic place to be.

Success to me may not be the same to you, nor fame nor love. If I knew the minds of those around me I could have dodged many things and caught a few others. I would have seized many more moments but ‘would’ is too cruel a word. It’s almost as cruel as ‘will’, which when followed with a ‘be’ and then a promise. Why promise something when it could just be done right away?

I am trying to cure myself of all that makes me ill. And by trying, I mean that I fancy the idea of trying but have yet to make any grand moves in the direction of proper pursuit. Naturally, they are all based on some sort of tick inside my mind that could easily be diagnosed as mental illness for the right price on the pill bottle. Most of these said ailments are a result of pressure from some sort of capitalistic cultural movement towards re-education in my generation and more importantly, my willingness to comply. My individuality, if it even really exists, is a new and hard fought idea.

Right here, right now as I type each of these words, know that I face this very enemy that constantly plagues me and my father told me about all these years. I want instant gratification for my every whim and with that, comes no satisfaction. I also don’t know if I can get anything that is even like satisfaction in this life of mine.

Look at the size of that thing. The great white lie. I am less than happy now so all my past can be seen as is less than that. I know that I’ve had a time or two or twenty, when I was much happier but since those are gone, I cower to think about them. It’s selfish and childish, I’m sure, but I have a back that aches too much for it to carry on this way.

And after tossing around a bit, I’ve come to the same point that I’ve been all day. And for now, it doesn’t really matter because this is a week late anyway. I have become caught on the hinge of wanting to feel desperate and lonely in the hope of attraction for too long. There wasn’t a lass to be seen in the sight that could be had in the bar. I’ll try to come up with an answer tomorrow. Or you could come help me find such a tale, if it even exists at all.

Sunday Morning Thoughts 4.22.12-5.6.12: Ode to a Crappy Work Ethic

So I just had this thought getting high in my bathroom and upon staring at my 1970’s choice in hair and facial hair, I’ve come to glance upon the idea that this really is just a phase in my life and most likely the most ridiculous one at that. Now don’t get me wrong here, there is obviously a supreme amount of beauty within all this absurdity but that does not make it any less absurd. If you can’t see that I advice you get your sense of humor checked.

The sad thing about that last… I guess we’ll say joke, is that there most likely is some sort of test that is alleging itself capable of measuring your sense of humor. It probably even comes with a little chart that shows you what treatment will fix however much you lack in that particular department but not after listing all the things that it will do to you like make you depressed or constipated or suicidal or blind or just too submissive to the pointlessly aggressive and just boring social construct.

The trouble comes in seeing that most of what is done around here is just wasted motion designed with the sole purpose to keep our souls from ever being whole. It’s terrible but because of the general decline in progress the species has been having since it got around to being there is no other choice but to wade through all the nonsense that will only inevitably make you at least somewhat bitter and calloused. Don’t get me wrong now, there have been many great and grand things that people have done in the past, there’s just been more of a general ignorance and hate and stupidity and greed and just naïve behavior that has brought us to a world run on bureaucratic nonsense that all those great people told us to dodge. The world is run by shady vacuum cleaner salesmen. We are sold on ideas that are boring and uninspired.

I guess that’s why it’s so easy to cling on to one idea that could feel apart from all that, whatever it may be. Drugs, music, sex, love, writing, rock-climbing, knife fighting, bank robbing, cooking or professional calligraphy, it doesn’t matter. Something that stands apart from the hypnotic glow of flashing lights becomes so brilliantly novel to us. We are essentially the same as moths. I think that we’re really only a few things in genetic code off from all living things on earth. We are this solar systems Petri dish, just the one that hasn’t died off yet.

And that is my best defense mechanism. Didn’t you see it? I start speaking in vague phrases about what I think I know about science. I dropped my science class this semester. I also never told my parents about that.

So what is it that I’ve been waiting to say all this time? I’ve convinced myself that something is supposed to happen soon but what that thing is I cannot say. I spend my days thinking ups solutions to problems that don’t even exist half of the time. So here and now I take the step in the direction that I should have gone a very long time I suppose.

So stands I at the edge of where I have been for far too long and I know that inside me are ideas and thoughts and feelings both dark and light that are screaming to get out and yet I’ve kept them trapped so long I can recognize them only as shapes and shadows cast upon my eyelids. So let’s list out the real things that I’ve done since I last wrote one sad month ago.

I opened for someone who is on Saturday Night Live. Well I guess that right there is spectacular. I’ve gotten compliments here and there with a few from some people I don’t know. There’s a video and stuff that I’ll be getting to this week. But hey, people laughed and I haven’t stood up since January. It’s good to know that my true love hasn’t walked away from me.

I played a few songs here and there and did that play and got a job for the summer and helped start The Skits O’Frenicks. If you don’t know Skits, you had best check us out in the coming months. Which reminds me of my TV shows that I have to make. And articles to write and news to do. I have to get a resume and get an internship and get in shape for the fire department test that I hopefully scored well enough to be able to test my merit even further.

There is so much that I need to do and I sit around and blah blah blah. Blah blah blabbity blah blah. Blah blah, blah blah blabbity.

Someday I’ll learn that scolding myself on my blog is not going to change much of anything, not to mention how shit piss boring it is. I honestly wonder sometimes if I ever want to read any of this crap that I read someday.

So what do you think?

Go ahead and take your time.

Ok ready? You have to understand how introverted I was as a young boy. Slowly but surely I started accepting some part of me but always held those same fears, I suppose. Even the slightest attack on that sets the whole ordeal off and it’s a mess and also rather boring.

But all these things will have to be done because I have no other choice. I have a whole world out there to conquer and I can’t rest until I’ve seen everything that there is to see. I don’t want to be afraid anymore, so I simply won’t be. I’m actually starting to think it’s that easy.  And as long as I think that, nothing else should matter. Nothing should really matter. I’ll have to just learn to accept any shift in the current around me.

What the hell am I saying? Fuck it, I’ll fight anything that gets in my way (fist fights only when necessary and with a person of equal size). I know that I’ve learned something in all of this time. I just couldn’t tell you what but that may only come to reveal itself when placed under pressure. Pressure makes diamonds, which I can’t afford. I have ordinary shoes.

Dick Jokes for Peace

Here it comes… the impending reality of life and how if I want to make it I have to put my hands up and start fighting. It’s not about trying to pick up the pieces anymore because I won’t be able to hold anything as it were. I need to grab everything I own and run from the burning building before it takes me down the all of those tongues of flame. I have to pack my bag and strap it to my back and get out of here and into that dark, smelly and impossibly beautiful world. I won’t stand to be beaten down or defeated any longer. I will not stand to be chased from the few things that I can love without consequence. I’ve been pushed away or pushed myself away from too many things, and why? For some bullshit level of comfort that has never really existed?

Here’s the deal, today I go to a show and I’ll tell some jokes and we’ll just have to see how well I do. I’ll tell the story about my dad getting stuffed and the time I choked in the mall and a few jokes about my dating life. I can get laughs, I just have to be myself. It’s scary as shit though. I was all nervous the other night, as I was last night, as I am now. This is what I want to do with my life but I can’t forget it’s because I’m good at it. IU can be a comedian, people have told me and believe in me. I don’t even give a shit if I don’t believe in myself because it is no longer about that. It’s too late and now I just have to grab myself by the balls and go. I need to run and live and regret for fun. I can’t chase broken and empty ideas. I can’t want what I can’t have. I just need to want what I know I can have, which could be anything.

And of course I write this now for attention. From you and from myself. I need to hear myself say these things because I’m vain and egotistical and weak and scared. I need to reassure myself because I’m still in the stage that lives in between the all of this. I’m in the process of running away which entails being able to part with anything and possibly everything. I want this life and I want this career. I want to create and perform and display some sort of beautiful idea to anyone who will see it. I don’t want to impose, but I do. I want to inspire and be inspired. I want to make you laugh, and I will. In what I say and what I do, I will always be a comic at heart.

Sunday Morning Thoughts 12.4.11

I want to say something sincere, but that is harder than you would think. It’s easier to feel something sincere but to put that into word can be just fucking impossible. I guess it’s because the feeling just happens. Explanations are tricky and stupid and often times unnecessary. We would be best to just rid ourselves of them all together, explanations that is.

But to be honest, I may be a bit too tired and a bit too hung over to go on changing the world. Well, just for now that is. I’ll instead focus all of my energy and intention into doing that thing that I was just saying was less than easy to do. Why? Well, it’d be best if that question wasn’t asked I’m sure. You can ask but I’m not sure on the chance of getting an answer. Feel free to check the sound waves just the same.

So… something sincere. Hahahaha, does that count? I mean I did just smile and giggle to myself as I wrote that one. I wish there was a three letter anagram to encompass the idea of giggling audibly to one’s self. Here’s to hoping. But the words that I want to come forth haven’t quite yet. That’s the problem with coming up with one sentence in my head a few minutes before this and then thinking a damn book can be made from that. Technically I suppose you could, it would just be small. Or short, rather. Unless you spread it out, maybe a word or hell even a letter to each page. That’s give you like…. Fifty pages? Let me check.

Wow… 59. Yes, I just went through and counted how many letters are in that first sentence. Go ahead, count it yourself. Actually, I did it rather fast and I have been known to not pay attention, especially when I’m actually doing something. I would have been terrible working as a lumberjack. So it may be off by a few.

At some point in the construction of that last paragraph, it fell upon me again. You know, that something I wanted to talk about. I’m glad I remembered. It has to do with the dream I had not last night, but the night before. I don’t remember my dream for last night. It’s strange, but it seemed to have an impact on me. Let me just set the scene for you. I’m in Disney Land or World of all fucking places except it was in my dream, so it was a very dimly lit Disney Place. That’s something strange about my dreams that I’ve never realized. Many of them are dark, in the literal sense as in it is difficult to see due to absence of light, but not complete absence. So we’ll say, the lateness of light.

Anyway, I was in Disneystan with my family, so after arguing I think a bar was found and we were at it. I wasn’t allowed to drink, but there was some sort of entertainment but it wasn’t very good. Somehow, some way, I got the chance to say something funny that people heard and laughed at. I’ve done this before, just at the Daily Show. I semi argued with the warm up comedian. I got him too. He had picked me out because I was being a tad obnoxious which I deem understandable, as he was doing his crowd work. He guessed my major and said his wife worked in a museum and then moved on. Later he was talking to a blonde young bimbo-ish woman and asked her if she was married. So I yelled out, “Well he is” and the entire audience within range of my voice laughed. I was proud.

The same sort of thing happen, only this was much cornier. That is because in this made up dimly lit audience, sat Jerry Seinfeld. Even in my dreams the clichés find me. But Mr. Seinfeld was laughing too and gave me a thumbs up or something like that, so I got ballsy and walked over to him to shake his hand and introduce myself. We started talking and he took me to him luxurious dimly lit Disney bar and we drank and talked and he gave me advice, none of which I remember and we kept getting interrupted by other people and then I woke up.

I guess that’s sincere. It certainly made this whole thing a lot longer, but I still feel as I have more to write and if that’s happening I had be not waste it. I don’t imagine Jerry would be happy to see me failing to live up to my potential or expectations or anything like that. To be honest though, fuck your expectations of me. They’re just about as stupid and as useless and as inconvenient as explanations. I will not live my life based on what people think I should do. I know what I want and need to and there are no things that will stop me. I may not say it or show it but it is always there, the tiny little fire that is my unwavering confidence in myself above anything else. I am my own god. Call it blasphemy or arrogance but no words you throw at it will make it untrue.

Some kid getting his ID at the desk was being a complete jerk off just not. No sense of humor. I can’t understand how people go through life like that. It’s insanity. And some people are afraid to laugh, or get nervous about things. So do i. It’s not worth it. We get upset but that isn’t worth it either. The history of man is filled with people just trying to make other people sad or discomforted or dead because that’s how they feel. It should be the other way.

I am a man. I do these terrible things. It’s just something that has always been done and all that can be done now about it is not concern ourselves as much with it. I don’t mean to do all these things but they will happen. I’m sorry that I’m not perfect but there exists no such man and if there did you’d be bored with him I can guarantee. I don’t want you to ever be upset over me, even if I do terrible things. If I’m not doing something good for you, then just ignore me. Trust me, I’m not worth it. You have all this time to be young and beautiful and free so be all of that. Don’t let anyone, me least of all, fuck anything up for you because people will always try without even trying.

I will die a happy man if I burst out of bed full of life until I can no longer. You should do the same. We all should. Now everyone do the Pat and let’s get weird.

Sunday Morning Thoughts 9.18.11: One Year of Bitching Anniversary!

Doesn’t the room feel like its breathing? Just listen to it pulse in and out and in and out, sucking in all the energy around it. Don’t you see them all dancing around? Their smiles hide that pain that resides in their hearts. They found the secret. They found happiness.

I speak of course, about the Grateful Dead poster with the bears. No drugs, no booze, no smokes. It’s just me this morning. It’s me and the sweet sound of breeze and birds barely bounding past the sound of some big fan that is blowing air to cool down something that’s running in one of these buildings around me. A bit of sunshine creeps in through the windows and lights up the pile of newspapers from Friday. I wish I were outside. I wish I were, I wish I were. This time of year is beautiful because it makes me ache. The weather is cooling and such. It’s all romantic and more than I can handle and that’s just how I like it.

Hey wait! Do you know what today is? It’s been a year! Happy anniversary! To what you ask? Well Sunday Morning Thoughts has just turned one year old today! For a whole year I have been typing up the things that bug me into a few words and put them on the internet for like six people to read. But hey, I’ve committed to something. I’ve been pumping this bullshit out for unknown reasons from 19 until now at 20 years old, and hell I’m sure it will go even further than that. I don’t know if anyone actually reads this, and I don’t really care anymore. It’s more for me than it is for anyone else. I need this. It’s my balance. It’s what keeps my mind stable because few things do nowadays.

So how the hell is you Brian? What’s the world of B-ri like?

Well, it’s chaos. It’s ever changing and turning and becoming something so vastly different than it was the day before but at the same time, I’m just the same young man going through what are essentially the same motions. Something bad happens, I react this way. Something good, I do this. Work and school and plays and the sort. I am a man of my activities and I suppose nothing more.

I felt a bit of an anxiety yesterday. It was as I was falling asleep. Impending doom type of feeling. Nothing really out of the ordinary, you know? Its strange how just a few days ago, I was gone. I was able to leave what was in this world. You do understand that our reality is all just some collective conscious creation. It’s not anything that we can’t change completely. And I mean everything. All of this meaning that is tossed upon our existence, and yet we are all nothing more than these soft little animals that like to fight and fuck for fun. We build our homes and our towns and our cities and our nations and so many other things and we say “Well whatever I have has to be the most important thing there is and everything else’s stuff is just shit and not worth as much as what I have”.

“You know that can’t be true”.

“Well why not?”

“Because all of those things are so fleeting and impermanent. They will eventually turn to dust, as you will, as will the one you love, as will everything you’ve ever known. But it won’t really matter, because you won’t even notice”.

“Doesn’t that scare you though?”

Of course it scares me! It scares the ever-loving shit out of me. My ego cannot handle the fact that it’s not the most important thing that there is. How can I find comfort in the fact that everything that has meaning to me is all just a scam and the meaning is just made up? I don’t have a god that can lie to me. I gave up on that awhile ago. I am a bit jealous if you have one. It would be nice to believe in something.

In all honesty, I’m just hoping that it’s still sunny when I actually make it outside today. I’m just hoping that I start feeling better more often. I’m just hoping that things get easy enough where I stop complaining, but stay challenging enough so I don’t get bored. I would like to be with a nice girl who actually wants to be with me too. And if I find that girl, I’d like for the circumstances to be nicer than they usually are. But with that type of thing is always with a catch, at least as far as I’ve learned.

I’ve spent a lot of time trying to come up with answers. I’ve spent a lot of time upset and angry at fate. I’ve wasted a lot of my life away on nothing. I’ve wasted time sleeping in longer than I should have. I wasted a lot of time getting wasted. I’d like to say that I won’t waste anymore time, but come on. Of course I will dawdle through my life at times, and there will be times for sprinting. I just need to start jogging, or I’m going to have a heart attack.

Because a man is not a man, unless he has a heart beating in his chest. And that heart is filled with passions and drive and thirst for something greater. That is the true test of a man. At least, it would be cool to think that. Oh well, I’ll see you next year anyway.

Evil… With a Capital V

So dig, this whole life thing, this whole responsibility thing, this whole being happy thing, do you know what it’s all about? You know what I’m saying, there’s those people who do everything right and play by the rules and win by the rules and even when things are bad they say “Hey, it’s ok because life goes on to another day,” and they smile and laugh and sing anyway. What the fuck is the matter with those people?

Or those people who just don’t care and live for themselves and aren’t always necessarily mean or malicious but mind not if me or Mary or Michael or any other motherfuckers move on from this life and melt away into oblivion. How can they do such a thing and be alright? How can anyone do anything at all? How can you let go? How do you give up? How do you say to yourself that this is how this life is and I just have to accept it?

Everywhere is nonsense and the pop cultured masses are dull and dumb and numbed down and care for nothing else as long as their favorite T.V. show has this guest star or this jackass does that and we all hate each other because you’re red or blue, which isn’t even true because we are all the same thing just shoved into different containers. But if that were true, why didn’t I watch the VMA’s last night? Is there something about me that is different, or is it just a different level of the same beast? Who knows? Do you? Is there anything special or unique or different or peculiar or attractive about me, or am I just as fake and phony as the rest? Huh?

But I suppose the point I’m trying to get at isn’t really anything at all, and it is within that nothingness that lies the problem. But I should find comfort in the nothingness. I should find comfort in that fact that my existence means nothing because it is some tiny unseeable speck among this vast and glorious plane of what is and it’s bright and filled with colors and sounds and smells and wonders and it is just that, it is just wonderful. It is awesome and yet my appreciation of it is always hazed and a bit phased because I simply cannot understand.

And the flesh, that never helps. My mortality concerns me greatly. I am such an impermanent thing and it bugs the ever-loving shit out of me. That and the fact that flesh craves other flesh, be it just for contact and the such, or for something deeper, if such a thing exists which I’m doubting on and off a little bit every day because let’s be honest, my results have been quite shitty. But all in all, the temptation is great, but my heart, she always seems to shine through and screw up everything for me, which kinda sucks but maybe one day it won’t. Ya know?

Sunday Morning Thoughts 8.28.11

So yet again, within the same week, the apocalypse seems to have been dulled down into a minor inconvenience and a new twitter page or whatever. I don’t use twitter, so I don’t really know what the proper terminology is. Nor do I really care.

My computer just shut down out of nowhere a little while ago, which was rather peculiar. Maybe it was from the hurricane that was really only a tropical storm, or the earthquake that I didn’t even feel. Maybe I’m just too numb. Maybe the world is too soft.

I got heartbroken the other night. A bit sloshed and feeling lonely. Partly for the attraction of the opposite sex, partly for the parts of my life that had passed. College just isn’t the same without those glorious men, although they haven’t died or anything like that. They just graduated, but I am sad just the same. I also long for companionship, I suppose. I don’t know if I’ll be getting into all of that right now though. I suppose it’s better if I don’t, but I probably will later anyway.

I am glad that I was right. The power is still on and nothing all that bad has really happened yet. Everybody was shitting their pants over this and that, but I kept my cool and said that it wasn’t going to be all that bad. I do believe I was right thus far, but then again it would not surprise me if the light went out right now as I spoke…. Come on… prove me wrong… Nothing?

Fair enough. So, I had a thought and when I have one of those, I sometimes record it hear. What if, and stay with me on this one, in my pursuit of becoming a comedian, I actually got up on stage and told some jokes? I know?!? It’s a rather maverick idea, but call me a lunatic running for president and sign me up. I should tell jokes in this, or at least the stories I would like to make into jokes. Like the one about me choking in the mall. That one is pretty good.

Ok, you convinced me. But before I start you should understand something about me and my relationship with food. When I am eating, I have the instinctual belief that just takes complete control that tells me that if I don’t eat my food as fast as physically possible, someone will immediately come up and take it away from me. Idiotic I know, but think about who you’re talking about. So this has obviously led to me having some close calls with choking before in my life, but there was one day in the lovely paradise we humans call the mall that really takes the cake, which is not too easy to actually choke on.

So I was eating a sandwich with my friend who now hates me because I never want to hang out with him, but that’s a whole different story. Anyway, upon trying to complete the task of eating, I take a bite that is far too big and I begin to choke on it. Now since I fancy myself a professional at such things, I remained calm and tried to either get it down or up on my own. So after about thirty seconds, I realized that this may be the real deal, so I made the executive decision to stand up and make the international sign for choking. And this could be the exact moment in my young life where I lost all faith in mankind.

My friend recognized that I was choking, but did nothing because he didn’t know what to do. Ignorance is bliss. So realizing that he was doing nothing but panicking, I made my rounds to the other tables in the food court, which was moderately full with people. So I just stood up and moved around the area hoping for a savior. There was an older man with his wife and young grandchildren sitting at the table nearby. I remember he looked me in the eyes, and then turning to his wife, whispered, “I think that boy is choking”. I made the international sign for choking to which he responding, “Yeah, he’s definitely choking,” and then turned back to his meal and his family without even flinching.

I couldn’t tell you how long I’d been going for at this point, but I decided I needed to take action myself and for those of you who don’t know, which I’m going to assume is most of you, you can perform a makeshift Heimlich maneuver on yourself using that back of a chair. So I started to do just that, except the chairs in the food court are absurdly low, and it requires a bit of force to properly do it, so now the choking boy looks like he’s got this weird fetish for humping seating arrangements in public places. After a few tries, it works and the food goes either up or down, I don’t remember. And this is where the bullshit really happens.

As soon as I stand up, this ass wipe comes up from behind me and wrapping his arms around my stomach, begins to gently thrust into me. This under no possible circumstance would save anyone’s life from anything, and besides, I was no longer choking. So I told him that I was fine and he walked off to his table. I think some idiot clapped and I went back to my sandwich. I wasn’t going to thank him, because he didn’t do anything, but after finishing my meal I figured he could use the chance to feel like a hero. So I walked over to where he was sitting and it just so happens he’s with two attractive women. It was just then I realized that by thanking him, I am getting him the potential to get laid for doing absolutely nothing beside something that most would consider a little gay.

But I swallowed my pride and shook his hand and thanked him for doing nothing. Needless to say, I did not get laid that night. On the bright side, I did live to see many more days of me not getting laid. But I suppose most people have more days not getting laid in their life, than days spent getting laid. That’s why everyone likes fucking so much. I don’t know why anyone cares about that love nonsense though. That’s just a load of bullshit.