SAGE ADVICE TO CREATIVE TYPES

Do not depend on the hope of results. When you are doing the sort of work you have taken on, essentially an apostolic work, you may have to face the fact that your work will be apparently worthless and even achieve no result at all, if not perhaps results opposite to what you expect. As you get used to this idea, you start more and more to concentrate not on the results but on the value, the rightness, the truth of the work itself. . . .
 –Thomas Merton, in a letter to Jim Forest dated February 21, 1966, reproduced in The Hidden Ground of Love: Letters by Thomas Merton (W. Shannon ed. 1993).
{From The Handheld}

Stuff

Got stuff on my synapses here that shouldn't be. 1) Care over what people around me are doing. It comes to mind that the less I care about what I think normally people should or should not be doing around me, the better I feel. Having said that, it suddenly occurs that, therein may be a key to happiness. I just don't care. That perennial apathy. Key on a chain around my neck. One or more of them. Plugs, dragging the ear lobes of some jolly passing travelers, so what? And if you can translate that or carry it onward to the other drivers on the road or co-workers and their mess, etc. Shoot! Success City Arizona!! Sociopathy here I come, eh? Just where is that substance (some kind of neuro-nutralizer) that supposedly these suicide bombers take, the don't care don't feel pain stuff (But why then would they even care to complete their missions? How does that work??), that magic "happy pill", to take me to that faery land, a rabbit hole, across the river with Lenny in Of Mice and Men, all soft and cuddily, ahhh, yeeeesss!
{{From Unit # 9630}}

There Has Got To Be...

TUE. JAN. 19th, 2010
DEATH be not proud. Please, do not let me go messy. Don't make me stupid, lame, and dumb. Let me not be forgotten, as we all are and all will be. Much like death, denied or life, lived in oblivion of. Think of me once in awhile dear world, yes, self-same I cursed and yelled to take me out occasionally. A flair for the dramatics, which truly wasn't or isn't necessary; I am not a writer or actor of any repute. I am nothing of course. Don't exist any more, so why should I care? Once said this morning on a whim, when I'm dead, an angel, of evil or good intent, I'm sure somehow (I don't know how I'll know.), I'll miss this, being alive. Now, ultimately, nothing matters. That's what lesson is available from thinking and growing rich. The book. Pretty bleak. If you ask me. Stupid too. Lame. Dumb. "There has got to be a better way". Thanks to screenwriter of Bill Mckay (The Candidate), Waldo Salt? ((JEREMY LARNER actually. He also wrote: "Drive, He Said."))

{From The Handheld}

What I Really Want

SUN. JAN. 17th, 2010
Don't know how or why it was to me my way of thinking a bad idea to take a shower this morning. Feel so good. Cue Chuck
Mangione muzak. Maybe we should just pee now and meditate. Ah yes. But really, trouble is, don't want to do any thing, not even drive away from here. Certainly don't want work at same place where we've been all this time. Don't know what I want. Don't know as I could have slept in much longer than I had. Don't know that I was or am any more glad happy satisfied for any thing that I have. I am so grateful thankful indebted etc esp sic my mother for protecting taking care of me. My sister my dad as well. I'm overwhelmed by grief and hope and worthlessness. Don't know exactly what to say or do. Maybe I can write about it, put it into a story that appears out of me soon, much like the shopping mall story where the man's head went down with a ker-klunk, the screenplay and short work of prose out of it that is Rats With Wings.
What's on my list? Gaa, I dunno. I've done it, but haven't made a full time career of writing, the arts, the movies. I've been in and have worked on many. Yeah. I have. And so...but nothing long term and or making profit creating nest egg, etc.
----
What I want to do where I want to go involves flushing toilets cleaned by me on a regular basis but not under duress. Pockets full of nice shiney clean expertly working new then because they're taken care of, old things, but are still rich cool expensive good but never boastful or bragging about. Clean well lighted places, yes, Hem. For books or living. And I want to be in and feel to be a part of.
Would love to learn how to survive in the wild, but wouldn't want to have to now or forever have to be roughing it in a real way, forever. Sorry Sam (uel Langhorne Clemons).
Don't...I don't want to say I do not any more. I want to be able to say, I have an ISBN or 8, and glow in the dark legible watches. Eyes that don't bother me. A girl that doesn't either, but HELPS, in a good way. (WAYS) I want things I have to do, doing done. No grief angst misery protracted nonsense from elements of society weather universe. Or the cast iron stainless poly-carbonate diamond whatever constitution to endure, the faith of a Brazil Nut in sitting meditating with my vision to get it done, forever.
{{From Unit # 9630}}

I STILL DON'T GET IT

All my life I've searched for something I cannot name. I really don't know what it is. I really mean that, if you know, you know something when and where you find it, you know what it is, then, before that, it's just something you can't name and you spend all your life searching, searching, searching for it...
Now, all along the way, by and by it comes to being that you find it...all these little things that amongst the big or bigger photographic still-frame in your mind, you find, and you go: A-HA! It's a satori, a pop blast between the eyebrows (iffen you don't have a mono-brow) and it's IN to your third eye itself.
Here and there you have your little get its.
But over all, to keep you going, you don't get what you want, get it? You don't because that's what keeps you going, all along the way, and you say to yourself, all along the way or all my life I've been searching for something I cannot or my heart cannot name...and, yeah that quote is attributed to Francois Villon or some one some times, and is paraphrased here, from the book by Hunter S. Thompson, Hell's Angels, that is really, I feel, something he wrote himself.

THINK! Or, Consider Yourself One With The Furniture

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MON. JAN. 11th, 2010
USED to be a time way back when, we sat in a car that was paid for with one hefty check to a friend, and write. Would get out a small or large notebook, writing paper, goldenrod lined college rule, plain some times and laterally, grid, small, but not so small, at least not so much and not so very often that, usually just average sized grid. Long gone are those days? Wrote some letters then, some of these writings'd be. Now? A few snippet wings on the fly, the idealized long ago postings of a madman, which every one is doing now in so too many venues and media, who wants to pay for that? How can one make/earn a living there? That part of the dream has remained ever elusive. Always the aspect of a regular job. Some have been more fun, most short lived, like my stays in places with others. What to do? What to do?
It's a privilege, life is. A privilege, much like a job or driver's license. You have no right for being here or having the support "system" to sustain you. It's all just a privilege.
The only way not to be a burden is not being here. But what good is that? No one knows or doesn't know. (No one can tell us, or so we consider.) There's no telling, no, not really. It's frustrating. Best ignore and get on with daily grind. Breathe, move on, and not consider so much.
So far as we know, we are the only ones who do consider, who know or think we do. It's important, we notify ourselves and others, to think, consider, and to be aware of these things, that we do.

{From The Handheld}

If A Lover Meets A Lover, When Coming Through The Rye...

Well, IF a lot of crackn' damn things, you know? That just doesn't happen in real actuality. Not in your or my every day life. NO. That NEVER happens. Why? Because it's a wish a dream of a possibility that, maybe perhaps could occur, but WON'T really. NO. It only really ONLY happens in SONGS, POEMS, BOOKS, and Motion Pictures. I mean, we still don't have our Belt Jets yet, do we? There's these films we watch and they're always unsatisfying. You want to be famous or have to give up your day job because you have to do your actual work of writing novels creating screenplays poetry authoring, etc. But, NO. That NEVER happens. This is real life, and that's where normal every day crap over and over occurs, and you're rotten and miserable inside and happy other moments and it is all, more or less, completely OUT OF YOUR CONTROL. Enjoy! Be happy with that, eh?

Power's Elusive Contact

Started out writing something else and remembered another thing began my thoughts with earlier. But what good would it do me now but to stay on target? But, what's that? Isn't over-all to record the moment as it happens?
I trade in/to ... And the thought was Tend to? No, Trade to, because it's more interesting to say. It feels better/different, and it catches the reader in the rye.
But, it; all these things that came up just now, is & was, all I had back then, when I came to this email to write on it for a blog on this here blogger website. I came to this post, to write something else completely. As the title suggests, about power.
Just read how in the comic: Dominion, by Shirow Masamune, that "Power is just power, you only need it when you need it," or something like that. Never mind the context of the book, it's not important for the illumination of my point. The point is that I just posted a tweet which read something like, if power is power etc when, etc, then why is it so elusive? Why does it slip my grasp? I need to fix and sort stuff NOW! Can't wait. Pool. Job. Finances. Writing. Sex/Love-Life. Every thing. All of it. NOW. Can't get into all the details now, no time. Have to head into work. And the phone rings here, asking me in to it earlier! Thought this was the earliest shift for today. Can't make the 45 min earlier start request, but can do a 15 min earlier start, which gives me more time to get in, get ready, and, do it, right, more comfortably and more power--control--contact, with every thing.
{{From Unit # 9630}}

Bosons Muons

Ah yes, Bosons, Muons, and why I will never be a Theoretical Physicist: I'd want to be a "real" one.
{{From unit # 9630}}

I'd Like To...

Like to take a moment here and thank all my readers over the years. All of their cards and letters have been such an inspiration. Here this early morning, it is dark and cool. It should have rained yesterday but might today instead. Or, it rained somewhere else yesterday and we won't have to worry about any thing like that today or at any other time soon. Just like to say thanks and looking forward to the new year. Hope to have some days with y'all to share what's going on with you then. Be good. Be safe. Keep in tune.
{From the Handheld}

PROUD

I'm proud of what I do. I'm grateful to work where I work.
{{From unit # 9630}}

THURSDAY

Thursday, I can't say I don't care about you but I really am tired and though you are my Friday, my week's end, and even I can't seem to sustain the illusion I am certainly more than the sum of my parts, which are just a guy who works the rides, I must say, I'm never going to give it up. You'll have to jerk me out, kicking and screaming. You'll have to over-power/force me out. I hope I'll never go willingly. I want forever to be known as the best writer of my kind, though I may never be able to have, in my lifetime, that moniker as my actual title thing, only source of income, never be able to have that as my only job, have it plentiful in payoff, and satisfy my soul. (I'll have of course the travel to Asia and promote Whisky, Clothing, Paper and Writing instruments on the side to supplement my income of course. That goes without saying, and is beyond reproach, what I, as a man, must do.) Yes, Thursday, you, like any one, thing, place, all are fodder, grist, muse for my mill! I love you, by and large. Thank You.
{From the Handheld}

Spicy Chocolate Coffee

Take a large piece of your favorite chocolate to fit and slip into a large mug of Pike Place coffee, but before pouring, get a generous heap of some powdered Pico de Gallo, or some like "spice," and cover the chocolate piece at the bottom of the mug, then pour it on, your pipin' hot coffee o' the day, and stir till the chocolate has disappeared. Sit back with friends or in solidad, and enjoy this gift from the Mayans.
{From the Handheld}

I Am In Pain

Both mental and physical I am in pain. Not like a lot of people, mine is simple and mundane. Most people to hear it would shrug, toss it off and say if any thing at all, what's the big deal? Join the club. My point is I don't want to. This is not for me. Not that it can't happen or denial: this is not happening, this is not happening, this is not happening (As tempting as this is, I've tried it!).
It hurts! I am in pain and there's nothing to do but ride it out. I could spend money on doctors, face horror of horrors in embarrassing situations, but I'd rather not. I'd rather not. So publicly I share it. Spock (TV character on Star Trek, TOS) once told actress Jill Ireland (I forget her name in this episode with "The Spores".) "We all live in our own self-made hell's. Mine can be no worse than any other." I'd like to think it was a line written my that master of the tale then: D.C. Fontana, she was a genius!
{From the Handheld}

This Boy's Spanish is Pretty Good

Well now I would not say that, but certainly I'd like to give it a go. Learn some rules, languages, jump in and swim.
We're here amongst agave and other sundry huddled against Mexico's mountain range known as the Sierra Madre. Northwest of Mexico City. And just a 3 hour drive to Puerto Vallarta, about 5 thousand, 2 hundred feet above sea level.
Been here 5 days already. Today is the first day I've worn shorts. It's been too cool for me and we've been under the weather since before coming. I'm okay though. Getting by, getting by.
Not doing much. Don't want to. Can't afford it any way. No Spanish (Castilian or other) fluency, and tons of general fear of being incapable of negotiating buses; routes, maps, timetables; my own sense or body needs...ah who knows, you know? Best deal here now and all is to sit read write and chillax, right? Right.
I'm writing on this thing and am doing so like a duck takes to water. What could be mas bueno?
Ya tu sabe. Salud Amigos.
from the handheld

If I Can Just...

Maintain, maintain, maintain! Take an energy pill, eh? What in the hell tore up your tummy besides Salsa, Corn chips, and Beer of unknown Vintage and brew properties, that was your snack and bebidas on the plane from LAX to GDL this morning/last night. Well, next Friday's Eight A.M. Departure will be ... What? Besides only a skosh of nervousness/fear did it for us back then aboard the all gray leather seats throughout Smilin' Eskimo's fuselage...it was an easy trip down here. Flew on by. I was just surmising (if that's correct) I should have more stamina now...and I do, but golly, FEAR too, STILL! And gosh darn it all, now the fuzzy feeling of falling every now and again. Guess it's from lack of sleep. Hope I can really sleep-in, tomorrow. Willing ready and able to give it a try. Last I was here I had a Carbuncle the size of a golfball on my neck. Travelled here in May in all times past. Every thing's brown then. Verdant now. Odd. Bellissima now too and unknown to me. But I like it. P.S. Surprise I saved for myself is was waiting till on the plane for headset work. Poo! Didn't work. Oh well. There's Wal+Mart in town. Must have workin' earpieces there if not at some other local place.
from the handheld

Left Ear Clicks As Does Right

My right ear has been clicking clear of late. Ringing is most always around. Tonight my left ear is plugged; not very fun. At least we've no dizzyness.
Called Dad. Bad connection. Horrible buzz. Barely heard Dad. But Dad heard me. Told him I'd get on the computer and use Skype. After one two three tries, it worked. Found out it's hot there and cool at night. Green and rainy season is over. Oh well. Maybe it'll stay green for my stay. Wish me luck.
I've bought a bunch of crap but useful stuff, from Walgreen's tonight, after getting that Instant Coffee they have for sample free this weekend from Starbucks. November Vanity Fair and lighter fluid, cotton balls, sun-block, toothpaste, hand-cleaner, cool new gloves for pool pole work and ah, the junk in the pool this afternoon as a direct result of the wind. So much to do with the house...and what the crap all else here. Got cotton balls from the grocery store before where I got bananas and meat from the Deli counter. Not Walgreen's like I said. The meat (Turkey-Jenny-O.) A buck less from the usual per lb I get and have gotten for years, but so big the slices...will just have to use only a couple of pieces and flop them over on the bread. Time for bed. Enough for now. Wish me luck. Late start tomorrow and then early start the day after, FUN!
from the handheld

Where We Weren't Yesterday

We're here in Little Tokyo getting massages just down the street from where Venkman's used to be. That place of ol' Los Angeles where only Piute Indians dined. No, that's not so. It was near the Coca-Cola bottling plant, that looked like some ginormous Deco steamship.
From unit # 9630

Motivation

Motivation, and how to get it. How to utilize this handy tool (instead of handling your own all the time till you've got scabs or at least until you need glasses), to get even more.
This will be the subject of our discussion over the next several seconds; minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years, to come.
Remind me about it from time to time. I'll get back to you. I have to step out just now. There's an urgent matter elsewhere, which I have to attend to right away...
Delivered via 9630 Niagra

Farcical Aquatic Twit

How about this then: The true story, autobiographical telling of the ultimate loser. A loner who has no purpose or function in life. But get this, it has a happy ending and it's not done in suicide.
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