I KNOW WHERE THE PAIN COMES FROM

WHERE IS THE PAIN coming from? And, are you disrespecting me? What the hell? I mean, I’m on the phone on the bus and in your face and what are you talking about? What the hell? Shut the fuck up. I’m just really trying to unwind from work and this guy is on the phone next to me on the bus and he’s talking to someone, possibly a younger brother or sister and he’s all up in their face with their “disrespecting” him, with “attitude”. What the fuck? I’m like, shut the hell up. You’re just a big egodick and you should check and cut it. I mean, you don’t have or need or get respect by thinking your shit doesn’t stink and calling and demanding that people immediately do as you expect or say.
Then I think, well that’s like me at work too, isn’t it? I demand and expect all of them to do as I say, exactly when I say it, with the deal of my job of: making sure things go right. Well, that’s in the exchange. I’m there as the ride operator. They are there as the riders. That’s the given deal. They are there just to have fun, sure, but like the boys at the zoo: get drunk, stoned, fuck up the help, and the help aint gonna help you, it’s going to eat you and it’s not any one’s fault but yours. Why bring a $500.00 stroller if you really can’t afford it?
I told the lady that, she shouldn't lock the stroller, that the cable would probably just get cut. And besides, all any one’d have to do is pull the pole out that she was about to lock her stroller to.
My money says, if you have the stroller, you can’t afford it if you can’t afford the lock (How much is that? That’s the real value or cost/worth of the stroller.) or the Stroller/Thing if it’s broken or stolen…to be able to replace it no problem. That is to say, you can’t afford the 600 bucks for things if you can’t replace another 600 the next day when/if the thing is lost stolen damaged. You can’t afford it. You’re not rich or not rich enough, so there.
The folks miffed or pissed about my making them finish their food, before going in. I shouldn’t have to explain that if I let the food in, it’s going to mess the way to the ride or the ride itself. But I do from time to time to help. Help explain WHY I’m telling them, or that that is a rule. (Where they get pissy probably is because they know that already and they’re just pissed that someone is actually enforcing it, that they can’t eat and ride too. Or maybe it’s something else.) It’s a given. I’m not letting food in to keep the place clean, an aesthetic difference/atmosphere which every one can enjoy. And, for the ride itself, if liquid were to spill and short out electronic circuitry, well then, every one’s inconvenienced, aren’t they? So, fuck! DO AS I SAY!!!
When I demand you put your fucking feet down now, DO IT!!! Because the door won’t close with your foot there and it may hurt you and will stop the ride with the door not closing at the point where it must be closed for the ride to operate properly. Sure, I have no cause for demanding people do that other than it’s my job and I supremely want them every one to do that…I really do only really because I want it all to run smoothly. I don’t want any one hurt and I don’t want to get in trouble/lose my job…etc.
But I don’t demand they respect me or like that. I just figure it like, do as I say because I’m the ride operator? I deserve that respect? They’re disrespecting me? NO, do it because that’s the way to make it go right; nothing more, nothing less. I don’t care about you or the situation any more than that. It’s nothing personal to me. But if people resist or get hissy about me or my possible “attitude”, then, yeah, I’m attitudinal on them sure. I don’t like the antagonism towards me if they’re antagonistic because I’m telling them something that’s for their own good and for the good of the whole show ride and general experience of every one around them. Yeah, that’s what I’m all about. Nothing more, I’d say.
Or so I say, or so I say. That’s what I’m talking or am all about; nothing more, nothing less. I don’t demand they or any one really “respects” me. I don’t care about that ego “satisfaction” or big headed penis-ness. I don’t give a fuck about that. That’s not my bag. They either do what I tell them or not. I don’t care. Not really.
I mean, I’m not bothered otherwise. I know, I tell my self that, they’re going to do whatever. People are going to do whatever they want/decide to do regardless of what any thing is told to them to do or what systems are in place with regard to where they are, etc. Nothing is going to stop them really from doing any thing they don’t want other than physics or whatever when they go too far with their behavior that won’t allow them to live if they touch the third rail, by accident or horseplay or whatever. That’s the only thing that’s going to really stop them. The tiger attacking them for fucking around with it. Yeah, theory says, you may or the possible outcome scenario is that, you may not make it, if you push a thing too far.
I guess that’s what some people want. They want some barriers they can’t go through…they want to know where they are…we all need some guide lines or posts of marked-ness, to know where or where not to go/build/be, etc. And all of us want some kind of sense or sensibility/reason with it. And that’s fair I think. But, with the ego in there and our demanding respect and loyalty with things, we’re only going to hurt ourselves. Demanding that people adhere to things as we believe, if we don’t at the outset setup and agree as a group to do this that or the other. These are the laws, and these the law enforcers, etc. Yeah, that makes a certain amount of sense. Yeah, I think I see this is where the pain is. (From the Self.) It comes from the self when we assume things that just are not that way. We bring it onto our selves.
No. Don’t go under/over the chains. I say to them when they do that. It’s difficult for people to process the way when though the way is clear before them, they see alongside another way and the way into the building they want. They don’t see the other door down the clear way path in front of them, the door being further down and out of readily available sight, (If they'd just be patient and go a little further.) like the doorway on their right is easily available to them at least visually, though through a pathway parallel to where they are now.
{{It’s their goal: GET INTO THE BUILDING THROUGH A DOOR. AH, THERE’S A DOOR ON THE PATH TO THE RIGHT, NOT ON THE ONE I’M ON NOW. (Am I going the wrong way? They say. Often to me out loud.}}
They want the end result (a door) which they see to their right naturally, and they think, am I on the right path? (NO. They’re on the left, but it is the correct one.) They’re on the correct one because the one on the right where the door is first visible, is blocked. Was blocked by me and a chain across the path in front of me. I put up the chain because I want no one coming in through the “wrong” path.
(They can go through there and get there but it’s for Fast Pass and in this instance, there’s no reason for Fast Pass to be used because there’s no wait. There needs to be a wait, a line of folks to go Fast Pass, to have Fast Pass work. Since there wasn't in this case. I didn’t want it used or open. There was no sensible need.)
They go under or over the chain again to get back to the left/correct path, I’m all upset again, because again they’re going like I told them not to, under/over the chain. The thing is not to have them do that because that’s where they could get hurt.
But, the pain is, I can’t stop them from hurting themselves. I can’t stop them from doing what they want or are going to do. They’re going to do whatever it is they want/are going to do. You can’t control people. They do what they do. You have to let it go.
I say sit back and relax. I need to sit back and relax. I say let it go. I want them to let the toy gun go because I need them to get out of the vehicle the moving mechanical vehicle, which the toy is attached, but they are not. (They are riders volunteering to ride.) I need them not to hang onto the front panel, because it will open soon, and I don’t want them hanging onto it because it will open automatically soon and they’re likely to get dragged with it, and they might get hurt. Let it go. Let it GO! LET! IT! GO!! I shout some times. Well, I need to let it go, it seems. And, that’s fucking sad on both our parts and the pain within…me…because I cause it…I cause that pain within…and that is really, truly, SAD! (I am causing my own pain. I cause the pain. I am the source of my own pain.) I know where the pain comes from. I am the pain where the pain comes from.

Another Saturday Night...

Another Saturday night and I have me myself and I to thank for getting through MY weekend. I have as this night is my "Sunday", only 12 more hours or so to get into unconsciousness, sleep some, and get up and get ready and then rock and roll doing my driving on a pre-cast 12" across concrete I-Beam, and then come home and hope is not see a movie or buy any thing.
And that's about it. I hope to make people happy and be in a good mood all day. Hope to have it all with me, the muse, the mood, the metier sublime. But, I won't know exactly what will be until I face it first and foremost, first hand. I will at that however, I will at that. I will face it head on as always. As All Ways. As I always do.
I've changed the format of this blog and I've hope is got it cinched and staying...hope is...hope is...
It's a lovely change. The words just stand out from the body of the page and it looks real neat. Hope is. Hope is. ENJOY!!

Another Link To Another of My Signed up Sites

This here's a link to Technorati...I don't even know yet what all I have to do here to make sure that every thing transfers there....but, I'm trying...and, I want it all hooked up nicely. I do belive in the ubiquitous nature of this net....some day it will be, even for us bassnackward people here in the United States of America, Norteno.

Enjoy!

Technorati Profile

The First In Something...

IF IT'S DESCRIBED as something 1st, as in the first man who combed his hair from right to left across his forehead, you'd better take pause. There's usually a woman beside him trying to change his ways to do just that and then the real truth of the matter is...But seriously folks, that Norgay wasn't first up Everest I don't agree.
BUT WHAT DO I know? I can't stand cold or hot weather. I can't get warm now and I'm drinking only my second glass of Ruby Red Grapefruit juice. Great for the rest of my body, but horrible horrible horrible for my teeth.
Been reading Ed Viesturs' No Shortcuts To The Top and John Harlin III's The Eiger Obssession. And Ed's book is ghost written, i.e. it was WRITTEN by another person, himself a writer of many mountain climbing books...just, Ed is not a writer. Or he's not a going organizer of words on paper, and so with not so much time or capability, booked a deal with David Roberts.
[David Roberts is the fella who was a mentor to Jon Krakauer and Jon was just one of the idols as it were of Ed Viesturs. Ed as a kid read Annapurna, by Maurice Herzog, and was heavily into it as far as wanting to climb mountains with inspiration like that.]
Now, I don't know any thing of what goes on there...the composition of their work...to get that 12 Peaks book going...where the deal was made or under what auspices. Who cares? It's a great read. Any book going that you may see/read, is done with more than one. I mean, you may see: T.S. Eliot on the cover, and he himself was instrumental in shaping other writers' works, but, he was edited too. Others had a hand in it. We're not all hollow men, but, as vapid, and superficial as we are, there are others along who help facilitate. Ed even talks about it in his book. HA!
Just wanted to say, it has been interesting of late where I've been, and where I've wanted to be and what's going on and what's not and how things can be so hey relate etc this thing or the other and how all the things that click so. Still, my show sucks. It's not on so much like I want. But yet I plod on.

Life of Late In A Nut Shell

The Indian wisdom has this to say about things and it's basically a paraphrase about every thing every one else has always said and is saying and that is that if you listen to me you're doomed. But, having said that, I'll tell you any way. Sort of like How to Improve the World; You'll Only Make Matters Worse, something quoted from John Cage, the Great American weirdo composer. Four Minutes and 33 seconds of silence, in three distinct movements. I'd prefer Shiek Yerbouti, but Frank Zappa's lyric's are insane, asinine and ridiculously funny.
But back to the point. I think that if you do your best do your duty that's all you can do and you try. That's it. You can't possibly do or be any more or better than that. You're true to that and it's something all the way back to the Greeks have you know, the name is on your tongue now if you do, isn't if you don't, but you'd be interested to find out some day and then it hits you like a storm right between the peepers: satori. Wake up.
Okay. Well, it was a successful day but didn't all feel as though it was very much. I've had these before and at least I am writing and have not spent so much...but, do want some money gone but not like I'd have to do it if I was on the net via one hella expensive but connected mobile device which takes pictures and notes and can get me on line wherever basically.
That's good and great and confound it, sucks! TOO EXPENSIVE!!
Sure, with AT&T a fella could have the HTC slider and be really hooked up. Get a cable and get a folding keypad and write a way. HOO! Slick! But 80 plus a month to be on line that way? F-that F, I say. F-that F! I'd love to have it. Love to know that I spent only $150.00 on a device that kicks royal arse on all the other metal/plastic pda/phone boxes out there...lovely to look at sort of but so what? More for function I am. More for punching in the data and getting around and being fricken HOOKED UP!!! Oh-yeah! EV-DO etc. But whatever.
In time they will be less expensive and hook up better and the net will be more in line with that BIG ARSE LIE: It's ubiquitous now. Yeah, right. Give me a break. We're building your infrastructure superhighway with us buying all of your stupidly expensive devices and supposed "SERVICES", and we don't get much out of it at all but a weak bank account and grief every now and then.
What am I on/off about? If you haven't given a thought to writing on line or carrying around with you a device that has a 3.1 megapixel camera and usb hookage along with bluetooth and wi-fi and a really beautiful large and easy to use keypad under the touch screen loaded with the latest Microsoft small web device software, Vista too, but something like 6. something version...well, that's really rocking as far as I'm concerned, and if I can get HTC's device from AT&T for around 150 as a result of being a new customer, and if I can afford 80 plus a month of service for net/phone use, well, that's really great, no? NO! It shouldn't be so expensive!
But, at least it won't cost me 5 or 600 bills for the unit itself! And that's what it costs if you just went out and bought it...so, that's a great deal right there. Almost but not quite reason alone to go and do it.
But, what you pay to be hooked up just for email and blogging, because you really don't give a rats ass about downloading music, and it's horrible to try to surf with those tiny screens and the damn small mega space of the hard drive as it were...well, you know, as I said, you do better to stay hooked via usb device air hooked dsl as I do...the router downstairs and me up...but, what? Where am I going to be in three years? Here?
I just looked at my stuff in storage today and said: I can't. I can't. I can't. And, I couldn't. I didn't. I don't know why. Told myself a while back: NO new phone until you free up that cash. 140 a month!! Damn, use that for your....why spend that? SAVE!
Same thing for every one. SAVE. Create a "Safe Haven". Get it in a ROTH IRA! You know, you're not going to make it into the future. You're not writing a book. You're not writing a novel or prose or poetry. You're barely reading...so...you know...what? WHAT! What is this life? You try. You try to, and then you die. That's it. Nothing more nothing less. And any one tells you different, is full of the most disgusting heap of slimy excrement, the world has ever known.
Sure now. And if you don't mind. I won't really try to force my way on you, but you know, doing what I do, eventually, it will. You'll come in contact. I work and see how stupid it is, how people could just be a little bit more perceptive to the circumstance. You could too. You could too and just not let it bother you. But, you do. You let it get you all bent out of shape. Who is the more stupid in this circumstance? YOU!
You try and then you die. No more. No less. I hope this answers some questions you've had. I pray to you. Hope all your dreams come true. I know not all of mine will. There will be no monorail down the center of the 405 free way in my lifetime. There will be no device I'll be able to use to be blogging this on the fly no matter where I go without having to spend/pay a HELL of a LOT of money on either periphereals or just the device it self or on the damn hook up "service" (provider). NO. No VOIP on this HTC phone. Dammit!
I'll bet there is a way. I'll bet, for some savvy person, they could clue me in and get it going right. I'll bet. SYMBIAN logic. LINUX something...I'll bet, and we'll all then save some fricken money and be able to blog ubitquitously. One can only hope.
One can only hope...and then try. Realize here and there and maybe all along the way be a little bit happy with all the sad stupid confusing times trials phenomena phenomenon one passes through. One comes (here) just to go...life is a journey. From some where beyond never was to maybe something else. We certainly hope. We certainly hope....but, really ultimately?
No one knows. No one knows for sure, and if any one tells you any different, they are full of it...full of make believe that doesn't merit pondering or posting, because it's all lies then. It's all lies. And nothing of beautiful confabulation to make beautiful statements about life in the bitter extreme. Nothing. There is nothing to that line of logic or of reasoning. It's cat crap! And I don't mean that stuff you use to keep glasses clear of the fog either.

LATEST ENTRY, MAYBE LAST FOR THE MONTH/YEAR

TEXT FUN FONT

Lucida Grande. It's close to Garamond...and why they don't have that, I'll never know, however, I know at least with this programme, I can type elsewhere, and I can fix that. I can fix it now or later. I can write in whatever, on whatever I suppose, and then post and then from there, view and have others look and view and that will be just peachy.

Hello, it's me again. Saw OMEGA MAN mach 2 the other day with mom. We're going to Rancho today at 9 and hope is we'll find some good stuff with the hooded zip up jacket with a bit of thermal wrapped in...maybe some insulated booties with sure grip sole. Hella drive. Have to try out the Camry. The hybrid one. Mine stays home on this with a full tank of petrol.

HAPPY FESTIVUS FOR THE REST OF US!!

May all of you find the remote device you love and be forever connected, no dropped calls or lost files. Publish Post. Sell CD. Wear whatever. Never get chastised, and always be happy...or at least have minimal chagrin prospects now and then to give balance to your multi-faceted journey, this thing called life...the way to death. (That ugly in some ways final arbiter of what is and what isn't. What we all will face at some time in the "future", for good or ill.)

Listen to some happy music. Listen to some sad. Cry every now and then. It gets out the impurities. Drink a lot of pure water too. Enjoy.

Thanks for stoping by these snowy woods this evening.

----WILLIAM

Drunk As A Skunk Here; Feelin' Fine.

Some one once said: "I'm in love with her, and I feel fine." I find that when I am in love with her, all my troubles begin. I feel and want and yearn and have nothing to say. I'd be an ass and it'd be inappropriate to tell her, hey, you know what? I can't get you out of my mind. I mean, I think about you night and day. Help me. I need your help. It's a sickness, or something like that. She'd laugh in my face if she did any thing or give me the number of a 24hr. hot line, of this I am certain.
Hey, have you ever tried one of those "dating services"? She once said to me. No, I replied. I can't do that. I can't join some "speaker's club", as another gal I know once suggested. It's awful, terrible. I can't relate. I can't rely on any thing.
Imagining all these connectivity issues. Getting together doing this that or the other, but nothing, nothing ever happens. I see/meet with this that or the other person, but nothing, nothing ever happens. I don't get it, as it were.
There's more to this, I know. I think I can work it into a story. At least I hope so, certainly. I need to do it. It has to happen. There is nothing else for me. I have to do this. This is what I do.
DATELINE: Cancun, Mexico. Hot weather in MAY, 2008. I am here with my family and we are away from the nortenos for a brief respite and hope is a bit of pull-over buying and even some drunken revelry. I certainly hope so. Hops today, courtesy of Samuel Adam's HALLERTAU
Imperial Pilsner, an intense Hop Experience. 10 bucks for the 4 pack. Not bad if you like the thing. Need to eat though. Will have to break out the bread and lay down the turkey, thin sliced, with a single sheet of mild mozzarella. All on plain Potato Bread, smeared with Grape Seed oil sandwich moistener.
There is too much to read in life and not enough body physicality to get into it and all before you're hurting or dead. Nope, not enough time. Too bad too, people have worked long and hard to get you those words on pages of books you will never read. Shame. Such a sad, and genuinely depressing shame.
The good life would be that I could write this or write to you or speak live at you from the Mexican digs of my Dad's in Ajijic, Jalisco, Mex. before getting on a plane to Cancun, this May, and all that with my portable device no bigger than a deluxe bar of soap, and connected to the WORLD WIDE WEB via satellite or whatever, still connected to my server/service, and not having to pay my pirated body parts to do it.
However, life isn't like that. It is like this: You can do this now, real simple. And the truth of it is, you CANNOT!!! That's what's so inexplicably fucked and what I hate like hell in life, what life in REALITY is. That's what sucks!

My Whitechapel - Introduce Yourself Entry...

CommentAuthorpisgah
CommentTimeNov 30th 2007 edit (6.388)
368 of these things so far, eh? Pretty good. But I haven't the faintest idea of how to go about creating any thing clever. I can't figure out how to put one of my stupid pictures on here or any thing. I won't lie and say I'm a writer or drug addict or supposed religious nut or any of those other suckeyed mule type of things. I will type professionally and there won't be any intentional typos on this damn thing either. The writing will be neat and transposed. I won't be able to write to you from a mobile device in some pub some where for the simple reason I'd have to drive, and I won't drive drunk. I can't. Sure, I could, but I won't. I'd rather say hello and hope that something clicks. Some day it might but I really think it won't. Not pessimistic, just realistic...I try. I really do...but, if this is effort, you and maybe I can some day see that we know why, it really wasn't ever going to be that I'd be a full time paid writer and loved my life a lot as a result. No. I'm just a frustrated monorail pilot in Orange County some where. Maybe Shell City, maybe not. Maybe in Florida, maybe not. You decide. This is your chance to reject or accept. I am out of the picture. I refuse to accept responsibility with it any more. I'm the stupid git who bought a pen I can't get refills for. I'm the gat-damned idiot who quit my one dentist and went with another and found out later after buying a 700.00 lava/coral tooth cover, that my dentist office doesn't do fridays...I have fridays off...so what the f-ning hell? Why would I blow off a day at work to be in the dentist office on a day to get the tooth cover for which I can't afford because I'm skipping work? I quit my old time dentist because I was tired of getting a crown every time I went in. It was too much. Now, I have a half and a temporary. What is it all about? Grinding and not sleeping. Snoring and apnea....who knows. Who knows. I don't really care for these things. They are a waste of time. Who does them? You hear about people doing them and you wonder. And then you go about reading books. It's not Alphaville. It's Zeroville. Just read Steve Erickson's latest. I love it. Great read. Most accesible book of his to date. Still spilling his philosophy and all, and I'd like to meet with him again some day...same goes for Warren...hard to imagine I'm older than Warren and younger than Steve. Both are with gorgeous lovely women and have careers and are happy. I have neither. Oh well...not going to feel sorry for myself...no sense there...I would and have traded the idea of marriage for the struggle of writing and maybe getting to where I can have some stuff to sell...I have a thing or two and no one thinks a bit to say to me. It's crap obviously and no one with any money to buy is looking because I haven't got it to them...every one here is probably here because in their quietest moments they're lonely for some damn reason. It's a world out there or in here and there's something to it but yet I can't help but feeling that there's a...there's some kind of gimp factor to it as well. People want something out of it. There's a kind of look at me thing to it...I just don't...get it...I don't know why I do it....I've wanted to delete all of this....several times...I've kept going...don't know why....I'll just stop. Hope it prints...is accepted...and try to do no more. I'm going to Pisgah to see a man about a dog. (Translation: I'm off to piddle around by my lonesome right now so let me go, unhindered.)

http://freakangels.com/whitechapel/comments.php?DiscussionID=6&page=8

It's the home page...there...they don't want wankers...too late...too bad I can't get my photos loaded in there. I have some nice photos of me...see the one of me on the boat in here...in '06. Freakin' nightmare I can't work the computer and software and know exactly what is what and what I don't have to piss and whine and be all angry and whatever about because it's really such a silly simple thing....fucking nightmare for me...I hate this shit.

ON FRIDAY, November 16th, Heard about The Iran Agenda?

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 16th, 2007
The Ultimate Dog and Pony Show
Most “experts” claim and all seem to agree that that public spin of the United States and its efforts overseas and in the world at large and on the world stage and in hemispheric public mindsets, that it’s all a dog and pony show. Some kind of smiley diffidence laden bullfuckshitcrap deal of nothingness, misdirection and obfuscation, utilizing the classic prestidigitation when it comes to Iran & Iraq, Afghanistan, and even Darfur, in Africa.
Something else is really going on despite what’s getting reported in the papers. You can hear and you can read and you can figure out on your own that that crap they’re feeding you on CNN and the papers (what little happen to exist any more), is just that, CRAP! And I tell you mister, if you don’t bury it or shovel it away, and you work in it, you’re going to have respiratory and other “problems”, for the rest of your life. You won’t get a rest. It’ll kill you.
My life, my body, my psychic aura or something or another is trying to tell me something is wrong, but do I listen? Do I do any thing about it?
I need rest. I need to consider. I need to get straight what’s going on. What can I do? Where can I start? I do not know. I simply do not know, and it is a grave and troublesome phenomena in my life.
NO sooner do I get fixed with the cough and get rid of it, when I hurt my back. Or my back is hurting me. No sooner does that get cared for then I have my left ear clog up and cause discomfort with pressure and sound coming in all fragmented, buzzy, and crackly. What gives? What is going on? What is being said to me through these things and I assume more, that I’m not getting?
What is the message? I need a vacation. I need a new job. I am grateful for what I have and what I have is not all paid for yet. Brand new car really. First year of 5 for paying for it has come to an end or will be done next month, for it was a year ago then that I “bought” it. Which when you get a loan you get it paid for by a loan company and then you pay the loan company back with interest, causing the car to cost even more, but, what can you do? YOU can’t afford to pay cash outright for a car. You’re a loser. You don’t have any thing but good credit. Who the fuck are you?
The car’s 7 + years old but it’s brand new really as it’s cherry in condition, so far…the vanity mirror folding thing on the driver’s side sun visor fell out several months ago. But so what? That’s nothing. Hurts. But, you know, it’s one of those things you’ll let go and not fix because it’d cost more than you could believe and you don’t want to hassle it.
You can’t find the clothes you have to wear and yet you want to buy more. In fact, you get coupons and you get to the stores on the way home from work and you’re tired and out of sorts and you go to a store and try clothing on. FUCKING EXPENSIVE CLOTHING, that really costs too much and then you think how it’s going to be paid for…trying to find a way. You still have not got your payment for your coral/lava tooth cap/crown figured out. And for today, the dentist was going to get you fitted/situated with it, but dammit all her subordinates canceled your appointment. You tried for another but no go. What’s going on there? What gives? What doesn’t really. What doesn’t give is your dream of writing for a living…in a world where no one really needs writers. No one needs to pay them really.
Some one said once, the writers are on strike. Go to Hollywood, network man, network. Do they understand striking writers don’t need or cannot possibly help folks to whom they’d have competition from, coming up to them on their picket line and asking how they became writers or just who their agents are so that they the would be crank on the street can become a writer too? But it’s done with good will. It’s gone done with decent intentions and I appreciate it like hell. I really do. But it’s not how it’s done, is it? What is the way? How? NO one has read my script and the one person who did want to read simply didn’t respond. Maybe because it was in such a piece of crap state. But I did fix it and it rocks now and is perfect and all but so what? I have to look as a project, for my novella of it and get it going and see what’s what there and make that happen. Get that an agent. Go from there.
Ultimately it is about us. What do we do? What’s next? Where do we go from here and what do we do to get there?
The U.S. is doomed as a country if we can’t get it by for of the people and have if the really smart people seem to know what’s really going on, our tarnished trashed and ultimately damaged world view image resuscitated on the world stage, and get to where we need to be, get going, and get out of here. Moving on. Moving on. Moving on.

JUST WANT TO...

Oh, I just want to write. I want to read. I want to be able to sit and read and write all day for months on end and not have to worry one whit about bills rent or being a loser or getting caught lying, cheating, breaking the law, having the law invade my house or houses or homes...or picking up my car in the middle of the night, or any thing else like that. I want the continued joy of putting my thoughts on paper on the internet and having people like them so much so as to pay me to do so and pay me for promoting things too. That's what I want. I don't want to have to do any thing else.

The Game Is Played In Pain

Yeah, sure, but it can keep one from playing or playing well too. Sure, deal with the hand we're dealt, Warren Hinckle (Who Killed Hunter Thompson?--The next Oral History of Hunter S. Thompson due...?) once wrote a book that was titled words to the general effect of the old saw: If Life Gives You Lemons, Make Lemonade. Sure, Lemonade. That's good with limes and rum. Good rum, with fresh crushed iced and mint leaves. Spearmint, Peppermint(?) and ? I don't know. What else would you want in it? More rum? Vodka? Never mind, just don't mix it with explosives or driving or any thing stupid like that. Just sit back with friends and read at that point. Watch a ball game. We don't need any thing mean or violent. It just causes pain. It hurts, and life interfere's with plans enough: My Ship Came In While I Was At The Airport Catching A Plane. And that pretty much can sum up life at times as I've found it at least.
You finally get that pair of pants or locate those beautiful mountain climbing "approach" shoes you'd been wailing about and they're moth eaten or something....the bottoms fall out or every time you put them on you get athlete's foot. Terrible thing. What now? What do you do then? Buy new ones? They don't make them any more. Buy something else or just move on and try like hell not letting it get you down. That's the main thing, because there's more life to be lived and its yours to live and share with others and freedom aint free but you have to do something about it any way.
Yeah, that's what life is. You tell yourself no more books. Read the ones you have and you go right ahead and buy more. You have to stay inspired. Somehow some how you'll find a way to write read pay bills work your job etc. Somehow. Some how. Some way, on and on and on. Moving On.

----KEN.

Seven Thousand Dollar Dental Visit. Or, I Got A Loan From the Stage Coach Company I'll Have 6 Months To Pay

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 2nd, 2007
MY DENTIST IS HOT but so what? If your dentist has to be asked to get you new toothbrushes…if your dental hygienist is different every time, then there’s a problem…and, esp. sic. Every time you go in there, there’s a “crown” required, on a tooth that of course isn’t fully covered by the highest dental program/coverage plan you have through your work, RUN! Run like fucking hell!!! Sure, you’ll have all the latest knick-knacks and gew-gaws of technical machinations. There’s a TV/computer screen and screen savers about porcelain veneers and they’re all photo-shopped to hell I’m sure. In two week’s time the prison factory tooth designer/builder team is ready with another crown, zero metal in this one thank goodness, but dammit all, I’m sure YOUR doctor won’t be there to put it in. Uh-unnh. She’s going to be on maternity leave, delivering her second (I’m guessing.) baby. WTF?! I’m tired of all this crap. A co-worker said the other day: People really should get hobbies. (Pointing to all the strollers he has to corral.) I think it’s true. This world is a fucked place, not just because all the medical crap is bogus and unnecessary, but with the way the world is going…the pain and fear of bills and payment schedules…having to scrimp and not buy any thing and do without all the time, just blows. Just absolutely blows. What the fucking bloody hell are people going to be working at? What jobs are there? What are people going to do? What the fuck is there to do? As far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, which is why the arguments for not living are really appealing right about now. It’s a fucking waste being here. What am I here for? What are we here for? There’s nothing coming. We can’t get out of here with any thing, so, what’s the fucking point? What indeed? One can only conclude: Have Fun While Here. Fuck Around. So, how do we do this? Make a bunch of money and party. That’s about it. Have fun while doing it…else-wise, it’s a complete waste of carbon we are.

The War We Should Really Protest

Fine and well for the present day Iraq conflict, but it's really a waste of time. What we should really protest (as if it would be any affect good/bad), is the IRAN invasion, you know? That's the one we really must protest and get rid of the present ruler in office's job over.

WORDS AND MUSIC TO FOLLOW...

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 13th, 2007

HAVE THIS TALE TO TELL, that isn’t easy to relate. The subject (one point in it), is about “suicide”, and that has always been a “sensitive” one for me. I was once asked by my friend Tim Kahle: “Have You Ever Thought About Killing Yourself?” because, he said, I always seemed so frustrated. I told him that, “suicide is definitely OUT of the question”, and so that was that. At the time, I believed in GOD and that that was the deal there where you didn’t do that sort of thing, etc. I didn’t explain that to him or any thing but there you are. I remember walking down the street once screaming up at the heavens for god to kill me or something like that. I don’t know what I was pissed at, but, was angry and wanted things to end…I didn’t know Tim at the time. This was way before I’d even left Eader Elementary School. In fact, it was on the way to it with a friend or something…maybe on my way home or something, on the next housing tract over and it was raining or something and I shouted up at the sky and cursed or damned or something and I was cautioned by a friend and I stopped and sort of just ran mute a moment…considering what my friend had said. It cooled me off. He said something about not doing that or something. I don’t know….don’t know who it was or what was said or any thing now. Nothing. I recall nothing from that but what I’ve told you just now.

What I want to write, and put in a blog, is a bit painful, because it mentions the topic of suicide and goes on to other things and all and it’s not the whole point of every thing, but, it’s there and is a very real and sensitive thing for me.

I used to not want to read things from authors who killed themselves, because I thought it would rub off on me. Though I know very well that good can come from bad/sad things people do and all and that that isn’t the full measure of a person, an artist who decided somehow to end their life, reject the gift and all its facets, and end it…and I just…I don’t know; I’ve never been there and I hope right now I NEVER do get to or am ever IN that circumstance. I hope to never EVER be there. EVER!

Now, whatever this is, the current journal entry being written and that you are reading now, and or the “essay” I may or may not be able to conceive in cyberspace, it’s not every thing; it is only just a mere participle, a brief wisp or vapor of what I’ve been able to find, and then, to describe in my words using what god/fate/whatever given power or “talent” I have for “insight” or capability for composing WORDS, in such a “fashion”, so as to come (maybe) somewhat close, to what I have in mind, to “describe” what I think/feel, that “life” is. Its essence. That’s really all of what I want to do and I want others to think that hey; this guy was really able to express himself well, and, had some kind of wow “handle” on what life really is. That’s really all I want in life. That’s the basic “gist” or nut of it. Course, it’d be FANTASTIC too, to be able to sell it and not have to work these stupid “jobs” and all. To be able to do something that people write about me on in the newspapers that people read and all. Yeah, that’s what I want. Hope is, I can do that and with that “notoriety”, also be able to make some changes at large for the world when I’m there and esp. sic., for when I’m gone. Some kind of “cause” or something.

-----------------

Though feeling pressed, today was a terrifically “successful” day, and I got a HELL of a LOT done. I mean, sheesh, you wouldn’t believe. I bought even more Parker Jotter Ballpoint Pens. None of which I need. One Avocado Green and One Brown and a journal and a pool part or 2 and some food here and there and though my Bronchitis or whatever is with me still these 4 weeks, I’ve put in some more movie viewing and pool maintenance and all, and I’m very proud of myself, though I would have loved to have just been able to have sat down and read myself silly the whole day. What would I have written? I need more time. We all do. It’s crazy. What do I do? What does any one do?

I don’t have the same constraints that others my age have or younger than me do. I don’t want what the bulk of people my age have. I’d rather have what folks who are way younger and who read and write and get published and get movies made of their words and get some time on film get…I want what they have. I’m sorry, but that is what it is. That is what it is all about for me. That’s what I want, who I am and every thing such as this.

Hope to write something about a journal entry or three I’ve a rough draft of, in a day or so, and I hope as well, to have a addition to the blog where I said I would have photos of the Lazarus book? Well, I hope to have them and to end that saga of my work with my old friend Carmina Crittenden, now, something else, which escapes me at the moment, conveniently. She’s married and has a lovely daughter, and like her brother TED, will I’m sure remain removed from me and my sphere of influence, a two-way street which, I think closed with the altering of their lives into marriage, I’m sad to say, much like some other people I know that got married. Sad. Too Bad. Oh Well.

It would have been best in life to have worked with both Ted and Carmina continuously throughout the rest of our lives. Now, it seems to me, this will never happen. Someone else I know from away far away, both in time and in distance, will never work out either. In my life, this is how it IS. I don’t have a “reality” like every one else’s. Definitely not like they have it in the movies. That is a fucking farce.

IN A PERFECT WORLD...

In a perfect world, the cover photo of today's Los Angeles Times, would have not the beautiful tear-strewn face of the Olympic runner, but instead, show the craggy visage of President Bush on it, apologizing for invading Iraq, esp. sic. under false pretenses.

WELCOME TO OCTOBER, I'VE GOT MINE!!!

MONDAY, OCTOBER 1st, 2007
FINALLY, IT COMES, I HAVE NOW MY G6 COMM.UNIT!
Yes, I’m writing to you from it now, as I speak, or, if I choose, I can flip out the folding keypad (It’s wireless, from another manufacturer, but, compatible, from the get-go.) so that I can actually write, but it’s just for quick notes on the road and I’ll have to go through this on my desktop or laptop later, and clean it up a bit I’m sure. I’ll even leave in all this sidebar commentary.
Yes, you have that right: G6 digital technology CommUnit. Yes-sir! The system is up and I can speak on phone to Mexico and from Mexico (The United States of Mexico) to Guam or Puerto Rico or Peru, Brazil, Argentina or Paraguay. I can use it in Saudi Arabia, and speak to the United States of America and from Europa to Canada or wherever the hell I want. Of course it’s not a satellite “phone” unit, (Is it? Why not?) I’d have to have my laptop broadcaster for that, but, in a pinch, without blocking/interference, I could speak via satellite that way if I so choose, because I do have UWB Ultra Wide Band wireless technology on it as well. (It’s like Blue Tooth on steroids, without losing your job when you’re found out, or getting cancer later on from it.) And I can hook my laptop to my CommUnit with wireless or wired technology, and be up on the net with the Unit being the online part and then hooked wire wise, with my laptop charging my 10 hour battery. Yes, you heard correct. 10 hours! Got it right finally. Damn battery and power/usage, that’s worth a fricken toot and a half, and how!!!
MP3 player. 16,000 song titles, not one thousand 600. 16 thousand. I can easily download from wherever more titles, but prefer just to get my cds at home and put it on my computer to the software and simply zip it over to my CommUnit.
AM/FM and yeah, hell, digital and Satellite radio. Why not? It’s what I want and some times need if I’m on the road and I don’t want just the vast array of beautiful recorded music I have on hand.
I can record still and moving images with my Carl Zeiss lens. I am a reporter after all. I can do that. I have then recall for stories I write in the fiction line I also come up with, but mainly, it’s for travel blog, the bulk of my work. There is also the voice recorder to zip down thoughts faster than my hands can crunch on the physical qwerty keypad, for on the fly stuff.
AND what else? What else is there? I’ve got a phone a camera a diction machine, I can play music and I do use ear buds or headphones wired to the unit and I prefer it that way. So too, ear/microphone for talking on the phone. Wired. I prefer it that way. As good as Blue Tooth or UWB are, I still want one step away from the prying ears. (I know, they can still get the signal and listen in, but I’d like to keep the aesthetics not too fancy. Besides, I absolutely hate them earpieces. They keep turning themselves off and are uncomfortable, and look ugly.) This way too, it’s a definite on/off thing for me. On or Off the phone. Now, I know exactly what you might be thinking. What if you’re listening to music and the call comes through? Ever heard of Voice Mail? Text? I can do both, as well as pause or stop the music where it is, getting back to it later exactly in the same spot as before to speak out loud to the caller, using the ear buds for stereo music now for phone use, or switch things out. Yes, two cords.
People hate strings attached. Confusing. Tangling…but not me. Not hard for me. I don’t have a problem with it and could go wireless that way if I want at a later date when they get those damn things done better. Don’t consider they ever will. It was a bear and a half to get my geek friends to produce this little unit. How ugly is it? How beautiful? It’s both and neither. It can be put into any existing phone you have now if you want. I usually keep it in the Nokia N98. But they don’t have the Nokia…only for you they don’t buster, only for you. For me, it’s a different story.

CHAZAH

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 29th, 2007

CHAZAH
--To gaze

WHO IS IT who wrote: Without A Vision, The People Perish (?) It is timely to consider this bit of wisdom for me I think because I think this people, these citizens of the United States of America, need some thing besides the pain and fear chronicles with which we’ve been subject for these countless decades.
If you grew up in the 50’s it was natural to be scared and to rebel. You had the bomb and Red Menace and you built your career around that, baiting and debating it, chasing reds or outing writers in Hollywood. But what now? Muslims are evil? There’s a terrorist under every turban or burka? What kind of image of stupidity is that? Vision? What has 4 eyes and cannot see? Mississippi. Are we that dumb? Burka’s aren’t even in our dictionaries. They’re red-flagged by the writing programs, unless we turn that option off. Even this one: Burq, red-flagged. Stupid.
The thing is this: Yes, we could be afraid and hide under our beds or covers at night reading the comics by flashlight, some cheap lead-based metal thing from China, while we learn of superheroes that might save us. Short hair slicked back. Tighty-Whities underwear worn high-high up above our waists if we’re boys back then, the 50’s. Ah, the class of 57 may have had its dreams dear Statler Brothers, but what nightmares we think of now, eh? Of the phantasms you must have had flying after you. What of those our children get run down by now? What do they fear? And, why should all of these people have such fear and loathing?
Or, we could rebel against the prevailing winds/conventional wisdom, and say, perennially: The Emperor Is Naked. Naked and Stupid. We have to have someone saying that, forever. Forever and a day, just like, we have to have people saying what needs to be said; the real truth, what’s politically correct is to say, yes, it is hot in here, or it stinks, etc. Just remember, when the stop light is red, to stop however, because we can’t just for the fun of it yell: FIRE! inside a crowded theatre, because some of us want to watch the show, in its entirety, without interruption.
Yes, occasionally, late at night, with only a few people in there, you can maybe ride your Peugeot Mo-Ped inside the theatre, down to the screen in front, wave to the projectionist in back, if he were looking, and then ride back out, through the lobby, and just be on your way home. Maybe you’ll get a ticket for stopping not long enough at a stop sign on a hill that your feet have to come off your pedals and an overly-aggressive cop in the area that every one hates, may write you up; maybe you won’t. Yes, occasionally one can and should be able to do that Mo-Ped Movie Theatre Run, and one should for sure DARE to do that and indeed for sure DO IT! But, we can’t be all doom and gloom, Doom and Gloom, DOOM & GLOOM. We grow tired of it. It doesn’t help forever. It doesn’t get us very far.
Our country was founded in turbulent times, built on philosophies borrowed by the French and written by smart guy lawyer’s way back when. It was a positive and possible movement which caught fire and like a wildfire spread heartily, as a disease, and formed a nation, a congress, a people, a legend, an ideal, a vision. But what is our vision now?
What/Who will help us with a vision for the next couple of decades? Non-Interventionism? Cleaning up the miasma that is the quagmire of Afghanistan/Somalia/Serbia/Croatia/Iraq? Producing finally, a workable Health Care Program, which is again based on something the French people have? But something twisted to fit our Bureaucratic Nonsense that is our wit and wisdom, our conurbations and way? I think so, and I certainly hope so. Woe unto those candidates who cannot come up in 2008 with some kind of sense making platitudes through which we as a people and individually will have to live with after deciding alone in our quietest moment, who will be the next president of these till (?) United States.
Rome wasn’t built in a day, but Rome did fall. How long has it been for the United States? Where will we go? We almost lost it a long time ago, and it wasn’t all about slavery, but money pure and simple, keeping a people from gaining a foothold in the world. How dare you keep us from earning our keep? Don’t you dare cut us off of our livelihood. We want to continue to make that filthy lucre to be able to buzz off in our virtual worlds every now and then and escape the unanswerable questions of global this/that and every thing else. Who cares about any of this whack if we can’t figure any of it out? Let’s keep on dancing, let’s break out the booze and have a ball, if that’s all there is.
Depressing. I’ve had enough of it. Driving down the road once with Peter Drucker, Business Management Guru, and he said to me: “I don’t get depressed, I get busy,” indeed. Get busy, but a lot of roads there are to hell if you get with the best intentions vein. Look, there’s all this death and utter destruction in the desert miles & miles and a day away from here. What in the HELL are we doing over there? Why can’t we get out? How do we do it? We need a vision, else we’ll surely perish. Don’t want to be all doom and gloom on you or any one, but so too, I don’t want to be all Pollyanna sweet, pure-bread. That’s just as dumb as fear and loathing.

“Without a vision, the people perish.” –Proverbs: 29:18 Author unknown

PLAY THE MUSIC AS YOU READ THIS

Friday, September Fourteenth, 2007

--Music Plays As You Read--
Find This On Your Player, and play it gently, not so loudly, but there, enough and on a repetitive mode: Beatles: TWO OF US, from LET IT BE. “Sending Post Cards, Writing Letters. On-Our-Way-Back-Home. We’re On Our Way Home. We’re On Our Way Home. We’re…Going…Home…” It’s not in the right order or any thing, doesn’t matter. The important thing is that the melody is playing and you’re hearing it and it’s going on and on and on, like the long and winding road, like, in the song, the possible line about being longer than the road that stretches out ahead. And while that’s going on, you read this:

READ: There’s an old joke, goes something like this:

Q: What’s the last thing that goes through a Co-Dependant’s Mind When They Die?
A: Another Person’s Life Flashes In Their Mind.

And that is much of life, when viewed circumspect some times. You go through the motions, you show up. Woody Allen, much maligned in some areas, he got it right when he said words to the effect: "80% of life is showing up, being somewhere". To which I add, and being there on time, but none the less, it’s like watching it from afar. You sort of just feel once removed from the events as they occur from time to time. Emotionally you’re sort of detached: Especially so at an awards presentation last night for work. And, on your mind right now, there’s a funeral of a co-worker’s mother, you sort of just-now-don’t want to go to; which is on for 3 o’clock this afternoon. You want to stay home and mope. You wish the weather would be better, cooler, more “mild”; definitely not as hot. You KNOW you won’t go and eat a meal with any one after. No drinks. F-that. You had just two last night and nothing really good to eat at all and that was pisser number one. Real pisser, couldn’t eat well, didn’t. Couldn’t find some place to eat or get some meal that would have been good for you at all. It sucked. And so did your mood. The mind/soul of it, dropped right out of it all, every-thing. You began, started thinking about mortality and how fucked every thing was. About how you’re not appreciated more for who you are and all. That mainly, you’re not "more". But how could you be looked at as "more", if you’re not? You’re just this thing and that’s all there is to it. There’s nothing here. You have a gift but you somehow are unable to do more with it. It sucks.

Two Of Us...that Beatles tune...and I think: Just the two of us…and then, yeah, that song plays: “Just the two of us, we can make it if we try, just the two of us.” Add or turn on that song, by Bill Withers. Withers, indeed. Time withers. Life, withers; by and by. Building castles in the sky. Something about good things coming to those who wait but not for those who wait too late, and going for something, whatever it is, that we know…What do we know though? What do we know? Two things. Two People. A Twin Dilemma. The Twin Dilemma, the title of a Doctor Who episode. One with Tom Baker. Something to do with twins. My sister and I. If you believe or understand Philip K. Dick or schizophrenia. Or bi-polar disorders.
Bill Withers is still alive according to Wikipedia. He wrote: Aint No Sunshine as well as Lean On Me…Well, we wake up, you know? We have ‘another day to run’ and even though you may feel that, it’s right to say ‘I don’t want you on my mind’, as I feel from time to time about the people and things I know, I know that I should ‘take it all in and check it all out’, and funny thing is, these quoted items, are the tracks of the retired artist who used to make toilets for Boeing 747’s in Los Angeles, all the while writing songs, and making it! Making it. Hmmm. Interesting. His wife handles the business now, doing all the "whatever it is", of a retired person’s stuff, who can collect residuals and all, based on previous work. You know, he’s got stuff out there. People do re-recordings, versions of your work, you get money off of that. Important, right? Something, yes? Whatever, okay? Whatever. Impact forever.
That’s what that’s about. Impact. Some kind of impression. They’re still going on and on about me. Through the miracle of life or will. My will being done, long after I am. Like Walt Disney, like many a musician.

And, uhhh…being on time? Early. Well. I’m not at chapel nor am I going to that grave site. I think I made it. After going through door after door after door. Plenty of maps all along the way but Ladies that do that (Give the: "Here's How You Get There," spiel.) they’re way in the BACK: There's remodeling going on at Rose Hills now, but even still; how come it’s so complicated? Nice green grass. HOT place, huh, on the hills. Rose Hills Cemetary/Mortuary, Whittier, California, in the sunshine. Smoggy, not a cloud in the skies. Beyond hills, small mountains, East of Downtown L.A. proper. Whittier. Good thing my windows roll down (they’re electric). I’m parked with all 4 open, under a tree, in the shade and should move up as the sun will be hitting my back pretty soon.
I’ve had some water, and it has taken 40 minutes to get and figure this place out if even this is right. I’ve still my doubts. 3.17 pm and no one’s here. Busy cars going up down the main thoroughfare. This “last resting place”, for many thousands of people who get buried in Los Angeles. Spooky-Sad here. Traffic Report: SB 605, the San Gabriel River Freeway south of 5 or Golden State Freeway, there wasn’t much traffic. Speed Limit a faded chipped old yellow 30 MPH on the tar-macadam, which the worker’s trucks driving on the road keep it well past 35, 40+ at least. Yeah, I guess so. Why not? Outrun Death? I almost got run over twice. Once coming up, a semi-truck moving over into my lane on the freeway. Then, as a car came around the corner fast while I was on foot, attempting to cross the street after negotiating the maze that was the labyrinthine circuitry of the reception area at Rose Hills Mortuary/Cemetery, in Whittier, California.
I wonder do I have the right place? Wouldn’t there be other people here? Besides just a few of the workers cuttin’ the grass up the hill: Gnangggg-Gnangggg-Gnangggg whipping cord-Edge-Trimmers cutting grass off the grave markers and such. Always cutting grass around here. When does it ever cool off?
Going (went) through Rio Honda, Santa Fe Springs, Downey, Norwalk, etc. to get here. Rio (River) Honda (?) over the Freeway, and San Gabriel River west of here in “Whittier” where Nixon went to college. (It’s down the 605 (S) a ways from here.) On the Hills of the Cemetery. My friend Jim Douglas’s Grandmother (Joan?) is buried around here somewhere as I recall. Been here once before. For that I believe. And on the other side or just before turning off to go down this road to this place down from Gate 5: (I turned in at Gate 1.), there’s a “rental” place I came to for Grip-It Lighting once, a long time ago. It’s now a Caterpillar (Rent) place. Goofy. Creepy. Strange. It was supposed to be at 3 PM and there was a note in parenthesis: (Arrive Early). No one is here but me.

{And as I write this now at 7.48PM, probably could have just gone into the “chapel” on the hill and just sat and waited, looking at the pageantry and all: ALL of the other services, funerals, people being buried, adulated, revered, etc., and saw all the people before and then after and then caught the folks and maybe 6 PM would have been the Interment Service at plot #1283 or whatever the place was curbside.}

Do I dare “intrude” on the chapel up the hill? I want to pee again and eat, have a beer and get a massage. But I haven’t any money now. Polished off the ice/ice-water from a coffee this morning before a large turkey sandwich & muenster cheese sandwich, the only thing I’ve had after a smoothie after smoothie after smoothie and Tension Tamer Herbal Tea. And another Tension Tamer Tea, one by itself, not in the juice. And, after the ice/water, I had a 0.5 oz bottle of water or some such measured thing as that, just sitting here, thinking a bit...
The Smoothie: had grapefruit juice, packets of c-vitamin etc powder mixes, 3 peaches, one pear, 2 bananas, some (15) pellets of green algae, 30 drops of grapefruit seed extract. And for most of the day I’ve had to sit down and contract my bowels for gaseous expelleramous, that and passing liquid through my bladder, and still now I feel a bit dehydrated. A little bit listless and slightly headachy. I took a bowel stiffening (I thought.) Tylenol pain reliever before sleep at midnight, when I finally got in bed and all.
All this after leaving the “Mousecars”. The oscar plus Awards for workers recognition show at work last night. Being herded into the north hall side of Banquet Room of the Grand Ball Room of the DL Hotel left me hivvy. I revolted. Cut against the tide and walked back through Down Town Disney shopping district between the two amusement parks where I work, to the shuttle stop east of both places of which only one I work in, and took the shuttle back to my parked there at 5 AM car, baking leather seats in the relentless California sun. Drove myself home alone.
I’m staying here till 4 PM (I eventually left at 4.30 PM.) and then I’m going home. I put in my time and I’m tired. Drove by several plots on my own past several groups: one black, one hispanic and a couple of mourners here/there, mostly asian, revisiting long-dead relatives.
Go up to the church, you ninny! Yeah, I will, before I go home. 2 small long back wing birds on a pine tree nearby. Way off in the distance I spotted some crows. (Later, on the hill near the chapel, looking off in the distance to the west towards downtown L.A., several big-big winged birds were visible in the sky hovering on the thermals above the Rose Hills plots.)
The trees are mostly pine scattered around here. (Nothing indigenous.) Palms along the main road. Olives here there. Elm? And a few others I don’t recognize. I’m a failure when it comes to this phenomena. I’m a failure in general, I guess. It’s all right. At least I’m the best one I know. So, that’s a pretty good thing, I’d say. Pretty good. Pretty darn good.
Wish I had the line on the nearest Velvet Turtle (Long defunct old high-end you go there after church place. Or big business farts go there for 2 martini lunches M-F.) or some such, I could get into—drink iced tea with no fruit—no lemon or lime in it at all. Maybe that’s what did it for me. My tummy today. Mojito last night. But uhh more likely the cheese chicken sauce that’s hot (red) and guacamole with tomatoes and onions! That I had smeared on it. Yum-yum! Tasted real good, but oh-oh-oh UGH my tummy later on!!
I picture dead dead flesh. Old brown skin dried off bones here, cemetery, hair, stink, mortuary END—NOT coming back to life. Body badly decomposed. SAD in a way. What would happen if/when my Mother or Gary (her husband), didn’t make it home alive from one of their “trips”? DAD died in Mexico, when Alice (his wife), was up in the States. What? SAD.
I guess I must just go home now. (4.25/4.30) I messed up. Went to the wrong gravesite or time’s off/wrong—won’t be until 6PM—I don’t want to be there for the viewing. Someone I don’t even know, never knew, went solely for? We go for ourselves don’t we? No? We’re lucky? We aren’t dead? Family Friends Help support. Ease Burden of Sorrow/Loss by showing up, being there. Lean on me.

A LIFE NOT SO AQUATIC? OR, The Vicissitudes of Life...

My Aquatic Spider Release: Showering to wake up this morning I noticed my usual water going down the drain backward (counter clockwise), and to the left spin, instead of right. Good, some politicians would say, because we’ve been going the wrong way for quite some time.
I thought, Owen Wilson. What’s wrong with him? He’s got the life of ease, right? Every one loves him, but what, he doesn’t have his one true love? She was about to leave him? People are dying in Iraq and Afghanistan and a bunch of un-name-able other places most folks haven’t even heard of that the United States of America and its current world wide policies are involved with, so buck up buster. Get it straight, get over yourself, etc. Or, just go down the drain like this arachnid “did” this morning. After several struggles to get up out and away, it just went down.
There was a spider in the shower with me this morning and it was from whence I noticed not, but noted it struggling, trying to get up, out and away, for dear life, I interpreted, though who am I to know the life of a spider? And it didn’t make it. It went down, down-down-down the drain, down. And so is it still alive? I think so, but it went with the tide is what it did…and that’s what most Americans did and do and what a lot of people do. Though most don’t (I’d say), become famous, or appear in the papers a lot, with their great works and deeds, they make it…but not all, not all. And though all of us die sooner or later, it’s inevitable; it’s always in store for all of us; every single one. Some die horrible stupid expirations, for no good reason at all…not as if there are good reasons for dying, no. Not in a war. It happens. We die. Damn. That sucks. Most people quip with the, it could have been prevented. It was preventable. Owen could have made it or will only go there some day when someone’s not looking…I feel sorry for the poor bugger, sorry for all of us. We’re all struggling.
As many times as I make it, as bad as it gets, there are times I’d like to lay down and go to sleep and never wake up ever again. I even say that to myself from time to time. I just want to go to sleep, etc. But at some point you have to check yourself, what it is you’re saying…if you’re not getting the best of results in your life and all, maybe you can change things. Maybe. Perhaps you can alter your inner/outer dialogue, your communication channel with yourself, through which you operate your “YOU”. Center. That sounds all wacky mystical and touchy-feely, don’t it? But, we all need a healing center, and that’s what it’s all about.
From time to time it’s whatever gets you through the night. If it’s a good or great book or movie or buying a new shirt or having sex with your wife or whatever, good. Go for it. Do it. Do it till you’re satisfied, eh? Whatever it is.
You need something. We all do. We may come in alone (And, maybe we don’t: Busy operating room, most of us.) and we may die alone, but we still have decisions to make and people to travel with and that’s what makes it worthwhile. Heal up my man, heal up. Heal up if you can. Go all along the way my aquatic spider release. Go and heal…thy-self?

JOURNAL ENTRY FOR TODAY: SEPT. 1st., 2007

SEPTEMBER 2007/ELECTRONIC JOURNAL\WILLIAM M. NEAL
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SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 1st, 2007
“We must work passionately and indefatigably to bridge the gulf between our scientific and our moral progress. One of the great problems of mankind is that we suffer from a poverty of the spirit which stands in glaring contrast to our scientific and technological abundance. The richer we have become materially, the poorer we have become morally and spiritually. Every man lives in two realms, the internal and the external. The internal is that realm of spiritual ends expressed in art, literature, morals, religion. The external is that complex of devices, techniques, mechanisms, and instrumentalities by means of which we live. Our problem today is that we have allowed the internal to become fast in the external. We have allowed the means by which we live to outdistance the ends for which we live.” –Martin Luther King Jr.,
This quote here is from radio broadcaster Frank Sontag’s website. A fella heard on 95.5 KLOS, here in Los Angeles. It’s the “touchy-feely” show called: IMPACT, on Monday mornings from 1 to 5 AM. Sunday night, eh? For most people. He talks philosophy. He goes on tour and will have something on the 4th of this month. I wonder if I’ll go. Nope. Don’t consider it. It’s rather like the Voices From The Street bit, where the character goes to find this person every one is going to…to find out something about themselves, in their life, etc. Whatever. That boy was a character in a novel…now I’m reading about a girl in a novel and it’s dedicated to PHIL. And I think we all know: Philip Kindred Dick. Philip K. Dick.
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"Times glory is to calm contending kings, to unmask falsehood, and bring truth to light." –Shakespeare
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Another quote on his page: This one, from under a heading: Our Mission Statement. His father got a job in Los Angeles, as an electrician at Universal Studios. Frank was born in 1955 in Ohio. Did a lot of things and got on the Mark and Brian radio show way back when as a board op., etc. Now he heads up a group called: The Project For Social Change. He’s got a lecture Tuesday, at 7.30, at the Orange Coast Unitarian Universalist Church up the hill from me in Costa Mesa. The cost of the lecture, which is entitled: The Pursuit Of Happiness, the last of the year for him, (This is the last time he’ll do a public appearance this year.) is $10.00, and is like the words read around there somewhere on the site, sounding like something that just covers the cost of the function itself.
Maybe I should click on the link and go. I think I can make it to work the next day by getting up at 3.30 and more importantly, going to bed at 10 at night…and I may not even have to. I have the thing, the deal, just down the street. Why couldn’t I just show up, you know? Okay. Ten at the door. Why not? I live just down the street and though you’d normally go left, you can’t do that out of that drive way down that hill and all, no. You’d turn left and go up and turn around in a parking lot with a signal given at the top of the hill in Costa Mesa. Okay. So, what’s there for me? Won’t know unless I see, do, go.
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I tell the story of a writing class: I talked to the instructor, whose name conveniently escapes me, and she said you’re spending your energy on journaling and not writing. So, for this class we’ll try a little experiment (my embellishment here), and have you not write in your journal for the length of the class. Just write the assignments, and see how you do. I did well. I wrote some things of which I’m proud. I liked it. It was deceptively simple. Don’t know how/why I’ve not done more with my fabulous gift.
(People who heard the tale used to gasp when they heard that bit, she said, and knowing I write a lot in a journal or that they do themselves write a bit in a journal as well. But they come around if they know about or want to write “professionally”, and it’s all about discipline…etc.)
It occurred to me the other day, how, I wasn’t even interested in sitting down and shooting a film with someone. The nuts and bolts part didn’t interest me. I just wanted to write something and have that be that. I didn’t and don’t want to even read it aloud to groups and things. None of that. I just want to write it as best I can and get it out there. If people buy it, fine. If not, fuck it. Oh well. I hope later then that I could make a living off of it. I’d like to get an English degree or something at UCI. Maybe. Something…but not any thing else, you know? I just…don’t care…and I really find it so very difficult to clear out my storage space with no place to put things here…because I don’t want to just toss every thing…and I’m crowded out here…and I’ve no means I can tell, to make a move any where else. It’s difficult for me. I need something and some one and I’d like to just get it via writing and have that be the thing and carry me forth.
I know life is a spiritual journey as well as a physical one. I don’t want god or jesus or mohammed or buddha…I want to meditate and live in a nice house and have fun. I want sex with beautiful women and to have friends I can count on who don’t live so gat-damned far away. I want to have a state of being within/without (to share-give by example), of love and kindness and giving/forgiving…patience and equanimity…I want to live in that world as well. By that I mean it’d be nice, more than just a little nice, to have it be in such a place that is like that in re-turn.
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Joy lies in the light, in the attempt, in the suffering involved, not in the victory itself.

-Mohandas Gandhi

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Pretty cool stuff. I mean, I like the fact that it’s not all slick and there’s all these “professional degrees” and such, bragging about all the stuff. I think that it’s like people helping people and really opening up and getting along that gets it going where it needs to be. That’s what makes life worth living and all such as that. (Touchy-Feely.)
Call it humanistic or atheistic/agnostic or whatever. I don’t care. I think it’s right. It’s not like I’m now going to throw it all in to Frank and former Irene Clair or some kind of prophet/profit I am unaware of…no. I’m not. I am going to make it a point and more of an effort as always, to make it happen, make it occur. Get the stuff out and throw every thing I can away or what I mean is donate what I can to good will and all. That kind of thing…if I’m not using it now and can’t use it. If the material is not any good any more due to mold or whatnot as that, you know, yeah, get the stuff trashed…moving on like that…but, not into bazillions of dollars as…the answer to every thing but so too, it’s pretty helpful around here. Systema….what that is for me…have to find something…constantly improve and make that up as I go, all along the way.
Systema, something I culled from Spook Country. It’s I think off the characters relying on Santeria or something, from Cuba. But, I think, the word: System…and the rhythm of it, and thinking of it, like a mantra or OM for meditating…walking down the road…using at work perhaps…when there’s a “situation”. STOP. Breathe, and what’s going on? LISTEN: Really hear. Then maybe make a decision…sure, there are times when you must ACT right split second fast right away, but a lot of it, if avoiding ugly conflict and anger hate ugliness goes; then taking the time to STOP. What’s my systema? What’s theirs? Breathe. LISTEN. What’s going on? What do I need to do and is it really necessary to DO any thing here? That’s important…really. One doesn’t always need to “do” any thing about what goes on.
BLINK SMILE DO NOTHING: BSDN. Say those letters over and over again to yourself, out loud when alone and needing to meditate. That could be your mantra, or one of them. Create a mandala with those characters. A nice fine drawing of that in the pattern, a circle or mandala, to focus on when things get hairy.
Where is this thing going? Could I really write something here or should I just quit because I’ve got to have this posted to the two websites and I want to see how they’ll fit. I need to wash out my juice glass and get to my tai-chi-chuan and grocery shopping and other things to do like get a hairs cut at 9 A.M., when the place opens, but before that I must eat more fruit because it’s breakfast still. I’m hungry. I need to eat a little more and top it off with a banana for my grumbling stomach. There’s the matter of coffee (some wee-bit of caffeine), and then real good, good-for-me, heavy-matter foodstuffs. Not lunch necessarily, but solid foods from there…not fruit mixed with any thing, but not necessarily “breakfast” foods either…they don’t fill me up. They’re in the stomach one moment, and then I pitch head-first into a lack of energy dive I cannot recover from--some times--it seems till way late in the day; if ever after that. It sucks. It’s great to be able to get the metabolism cranked up, but it’s also very tricky. One has to be able to keep the engine burning…and that’s the thing about writing too, eh? Does making it move more just produce more or evaporate all that good sou? (It’s a bit of both?) Exercise, you are more vital. And then, you can be spent as well. Same thing perhaps.