524 Words About Truth...
21 July 2010 | 8:05 pm

 

 

Masturbation and Blogging...
12 July 2010 | 3:36 pm

Hello everyone...and when I say everyone I mean you! The three people that read my blogs and the spammers who sell sunglasses and shoes.

First I want to apologize. I'm sorry I've been gone so long. It's just that I've equated blogging to masterbation. I'm mean, I'm all for taking care of business. Everyone has needs. I certainly have mine. A good wank/rub can relieve a lot of stress and tension. Writing does the same for me. This.

I suppose that's why I started blogging...and why I've decided to continue to do so. That's right...I'm fine with you watching. I don't know if you'll enjoy it, perhaps it's the act of being a voyeur...the pleasure is in the peeking...not exactly in the content.

Anyway...I'll be jerking off more frequently now...so if you want to watch you can. It's okay. You can even help. Lower. Faster...

Is this a dream? Or am I always dreaming and I'm actually awake for these few moments? Hmmmm...well...dream or not...can you pass me a Kleenex tissue? Thanks.

I'm finished...


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My Etch-a-Sketch History and Lite-Brite Future...
11 May 2010 | 6:56 pm

I wanna shake it. I want to shake it upside down until there is only silver showing. My Etch-a-Sketch History. I've made some great pictures, awful ones, and a boat load of mediocre ones. They're all on there. Some you can see, some you can't unless you can see through all the scribbles trying to cover them up. When I write, for example. When I write line that just miserably sucks, I scribble it out so no one can intelligibly read it. Sure, some forensic specialist could...those damn bastards...there is no wiping away. All evidence and effects are left behind. The ripple has been made. The scratch has been scratched, but I like to believe in my fantasy world.

My Lite-Brite Future glows warmly underneath my blanket-tunnel-fort. Full of hope, these are the best little lit up plastic pegs can offer. Not too technical. Just broad happy strokes of shiny goodness of my illuminated memory.

Wait...I'm just a crazy bitch. A cunt. A dick. An asshole. Wait...just crazy.

I want my fucking Etch-a-Sketch History and Lite-Brite Future! The internet can kiss it's history keeping ass! The corporate-power-banking-utilities-company are not gonna threaten me to pull my Lite-Brite plug!

Everyone repeat after me: "I want my Etch-a-Sketch History and Lite-Brite Future!"

Delusions once swallowed are real. At least 17% real...and that's all I need.

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Limits, Love and the Bends...
28 April 2010 | 1:12 pm

I'm in the midst of "Road Crash"...the diver's sickness of touring road musicians. Like the bends, coming up too fast from deep water, one can get sick or even die, road crash is similar, stopping too fast from a long tour, one can get sick too...a mental sickness. Depression. Noting that the mind and body affects each other, the body can follow suit with a delayed reaction as well.

In my funkiness, my mind wanders freely tripping on almost everything it sees, hears, and feels. The term "Limits" come to mind immediately. Whisked in time back to college, I think of my Calculus class. I was scared of this mysterious math until I started it, and then basked in the glorious light of it's simplicity of design and power of it's use. Damn...Newton... Anyway, limits. Limits can always be expressed, even the so called limitless ones. With us on Earth, we are bound by them. For me, limits are a freedom. With limitless possibilities I stand frozen in the choices, creativity spins its wheels grabbing on to nothing. But with limits, I can find a starting point, I must be creative to try to break my bounded glory. This is the sweet marrow of life for me!

While the idea that we are limitless is bandied around...I find this preposterous, even hurtful to us, because in a way, it cages us in. For example, Love. "We have the unlimited capacity to love." Bullshit. Yea...you can loosely say "I love all things.", "I love all people.", "I love all life."....yea....kinda. I don't know what kind of love you're talking about, because for me...I want to feel the love in every fiber of my being. Not this...vague fluffy misty notion of smiling at everyone and wishing them well. That might be more like being benevolent. Good will. I'm for these things mind you, let us just use the appropriate words here.

But love? Don't tell you love me because I just happen to be standing in front of you.

Love needs a commitment of emotional expense. There I've said it. Expense. It costs to love. Not money obviously, but feelings, emotions, mental and physical energy. Being in this world, in this body, limits are what we must deal with. Those that have happy lives have come to terms with this. Accepting our limitations is the first step. The second is pushing our limitations, expanding them to more we can imagine.

I think we need to expand love. The small, stingy idea that one or few people should be loved in a person's lifetime. Granted, it keeps things simple. But really? Deny love? Hell no! We need more love in the world not less...and no...I'm not talking about sex. I love a good fuck as much as anyone, but sex is an entirely different matter. At times, love and sex do hold hands with each other, it is sex that messes up people. Religion and societal mores have tried to bury the beast since we first got a hard on, it has never worked,  millions have died or been persecuted for it. Being homosexual, sexual deviant, or non-monogamous have kept the world spinning in fear, hate, and thrilled...like driving slowly by a car fire on the side of the road. "Is there blood?! I hope so! I mean...I hope they're okay...."

For a moment...just a moment, I'd like to take sex out of the picture. I know it's hard...ummm.... never mind...oh the double entendres. Love for love's sake. We can't invest the emotional expense of truly loving everything, but we can love a lot more than we do. We should not be scared of this. Many have a problem with this idea because sex will rear its juicy head and wham! We must stop it! We must ruin a person's reputation! It will ruin marriage! Our blessed union between two heterosexual people! These people will not only fight for what they believe, but they kill for it too. Because any shaken belief in a religion is a shaken belief of their immortality, mortality, and illusion of control.

This is not a 60's free love idea of all people fucking in the grass. I'm talking about letting yourself love more. It's okay. We can do it. We have it in us. We're limited, but not that limited. Invest a little more in the people around you and that you meet. You'll be surprised at yourself. Be warned...it can add more complications, it will cost you...but it can be a great return on what you've given. It can bring us closer to the real goal of true limitless love, that while we can't obtain here, maybe...just maybe we can possibly attain later after this world lets us go.

 

 

Super Heroes and the Straight Up Sideways Everyman...
7 April 2010 | 9:54 am

Super heroes. Many movies and books are devoted to these characters. I like the genre. A glimpse into what we wish we could be, to dream of doing. Pure escapism and a middle finger to the nature of physics that binds us to the ground, no X-ray vision, laser beams and fire balls emanating from our eye balls or fingertips.

Thus is my point. Super heroes are not to be looked up to. In fact they are weak. We are the ones to be awed. Sure they can save the world, but can they endure it without their superpowers? Is it to be admired that Superman can fly up to Mount Everest in a single bound, or a simple man risking his very life to do it? Let us get away even from fantastic human feats. What about slugging it out in a menial job, raising a family, trying to survive, avoiding being eaten by the corporations and banks that want to enslave us? We are the real heroes.

While our super hero fetish is fun and puts a Kung Fu grip on boredom, we need to remember that what people do everyday is worth a movie. The gargantuan strength of out lasting the mundane, the levitation powers of rising above the muck and dredge of being limited, the Earth moving Will to endure a hard life and come out smiling.

These are the real heroes. Us.

One more thing. I'm not gonna put your face on my underwear or anything...just so we get that straight.

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The Saga of Asphalt, Green Grass and the Poisoned Mind Part 4...
2 April 2010 | 1:16 pm

We performed at gig somewhere near Champagne, Illinois. I say somewhere because I don't know. I'm not trying to be coolly vague, just simply haven't a clue. When we arrived to our location, it was a winery. One would be quick to guess what the evening would be like and you would be most likely wrong.

First, the proprietors set us up with a campfire, with brats, picnic foods, marshmallows, chocolate bars, graham crackers... Wow. I was 12 years old again...which means I aged 4 years, because normally I feel like I'm 8 years old when I'm on tour.

Cooking our food with metal skewers over the fire...I easily get hypnotized staring into the fire. A fire kicks T.V.'s ass. Fire was the first television and in my opinion still is one of the most powerful visuals on Earth. Throw in the ocean, the sun, the moon, trees blowing in wind, a smile, those twinkly eyes we rarely show, birds flying...fuck television. Fuck the internet. We're missing it. We're missing everything.

I'm typing all this on my phone sadly...why am I doing this? Yea...I had a lot more to ramble about, but right now...at this moment...I need to be here. Listening to the frogs and the fire tell me their secrets and sing me songs of love, death, and sex.

Yea...gotta go.

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Peat Gets Choked Out From Singing Morrisey...
29 March 2010 | 12:34 am

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The Saga of Asphalt, Green Grass and the Poisoned Mind Part 3...
27 March 2010 | 4:33 pm

The dreaded empty show. No one's showed up. Five to ten people including the workers at the club. The most important gig you can play. This is the testing point. What you really bring to the show, when nothing is given back. If you can kill this show, ALL shows will be killed. This is the goal. Why drive ten hours to be mediocre? Why sacrifice income, relationships, and sanity to just show up and get by? Hell no. Damn no. Fuck no. Not me.

I had a talk with an artist last night after a gig in Kansas City at Davy's Uptown. She asked me, what do I get from my art. Get? Wrong and dangerous question. Get? There is no "get". It's about GIVE. You give and that's it. Give the truth. The truth of the moment. Anyone using "get" as the impetus for doing art is in for a world of unhappiness with super-special-mind-fuck-sauce.

We give until we die, and even then...even then we keep on giving. Art is to remind us that we are forever connected and bound to each other. The idea that "we are alone" is a sour-faced lie. We are never alone because we are permanently connected in the fabric of life, stars, gingham table cloth, dust, universe, etc. Good art brings us together.

Oh yea...back to my point...the empty nightmare show. Give what you've got and leave nothing left inside. You will be refilled and renewed to give the next day, and if you're not, tough shit and give it all you can anyway. It's what we do.

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The Saga of Asphalt, Green Grass and the Poisoned Mind Part 2...
25 March 2010 | 1:03 pm

It's a rain day. Heading across Kansas. It's quiet time in the van. Everyone catching up on emails, texts, sleep or quietly typing out tweets and blogs. The homosexual double entendre innuendos have settled down....for now. Yes...we get in touch with our feminine side in the van. I mean...no one's pitching or catching...but we'll talk about it a lot. Pushing our boundaries and laughing every moment of the way. But like I said, it's quiet time. Our six year old kids inside us have taken a nap. No potty humor or farts are wielded in expert fashion. We're all grown up. Driving a fully loaded van through a down pour is serious business.

Out the window in Kansas there seems to be a preoccupation of Fireworks and Porn shops. Perhaps this is where Perry Ferrel named his band Porno for Pyros? Hmmmm...either way porn and fireworks is not what comes to mind when one drives through Kansas on Interstate 70. In fact, nothing comes to mind. Desolate, void of distraction and visual hyperbole. A Zen master's wet dream. When there is nothing, everything appears. That's how my brain works anyway. It's how I've always been. Give me nothing and I'll get everything. Creation out of nothingness. A gift. One everyone is given, but if rarely used it can become forgotten that in our little world, we can become a God. There I said it. A God. Mmmmm...panties in twist. So many scared fragile folks out there willing to kill me to save me.

Oooh look....a break in the clouds...I did wish it so...was it me? Nah...but it does mean a small respite from the storm and a few new texts have been sent my way...it has begun again. Hello blue...I've missed you.



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The Saga of Asphalt, Green Grass, and the Poisoned Mind Part 1...
22 March 2010 | 10:34 am

The road. I'm on it. Few can take it for long. The romantic notions of being in a car/van for weeks/months is thought dreamily to many, and to 99.9% the reality is much harsher, disorienting, confusing, even nightmarish. The idea of literally being in a different city everyday with no end in sight is not natural for people. Not knowing what day, time, or place you are when you wake up unnerves the strongest of us. To be floaty. No stability and structure. Days and events blur into what seems like a dream from a long time ago but it was only yesterday.

To the other .1% of the population... it is Heaven. This is me. I am in my "happy place". I was built for this. Ever since I was a small child being in a car driven around by my mom to all the National Parks, my family moving 13 times by the time I was 11 years old due to the Army and then job transfers my father had to say yes to. When we got in our station wagon, it was ADVENTURE! Sights of the country rolling by my window, cars filled with people and their complicated lives bustling to a far off land. When you're on the road, your life isn't complicated anymore. It comes down to this... Where are we going? What do we have to do to get there? And finally the best part... being completely open to whatever the world lays at your feet, or what slaps you in the face. Everything. Everyday awaits a chance to meet new people, new land, new hope, and deeper knowledge about yourself. It is this last attribute the scares the living hell out everyone. Our perception/outlook/philosophy is tested to the breaking point. Life at full speed! Damn I get watery-eyed just thinking about it. Chills. Child-like excitement. With the preeminent thought of... what's next _____? (fill in the blank) The word could be World, Universe, God, Fate, Will, the Great OM... whatever you lay yourself open wide to. To submit to. In submission, freedom is found. This is a strong submission, meaning... standing tall, fearless of the fall, full commitment and full knowing. There is no death-spiral, but a life flight!

Oh World/Universe/God/Fate/Will/the Great OM! I give myself the thee!
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Crayola Crayons and Kleenex...
24 February 2010 | 1:19 pm

 

 

Love and Donny Osmond...
5 February 2010 | 1:50 pm

I'm not into holidays. Especially holidays created by card companies, but knowing a certain one is coming up soon I thought of this...


When I was five I had my first girlfriend. Her name was Rachel. My parents both worked and my neighbor babysat me with her daughter after school until my mom picked me up after she got home. As kids do, we played and watched Speed Racer, Kimba the White Lion, Josie and the Pussycats, and Star Trek everyday. Then one special day Rachel came up to me and said "Hey big boy, why don't ya come up and see me sometime!" and proceeded to give me my first kiss. She was an older woman...she was six.


Well that was it! I had a girlfriend and my first hard-on. I had no idea what happened. I knew I liked it, but I was really embarrassed about it. I don't think she even noticed. Thank God, but how could she? What kind of package am I gonna have at five? So anyway...as kids do...and everybody else, we worked out a system. Everyday I played Barbie's with her, I'd be "Ken with the Camaro" for an hour and afterwards, she'd sit on my lap, put her arms around me, say "Hey big boy, why don't ya come up and see me sometime!" and kiss me. We did this for months.


Then one day, as before, we played Barbie's and after the hour was up I was ready for my kiss. She looked at me rather coldly and said "I don't love you anymore. I'm in love with Donny Osmond." I was heart broken. What did I do wrong? I played Barbie's with her. I didn't use any tongue. She never felt my hard-on. What did I do?!


The very next day she had Donny Osmond posters up all over the place. I didn't play with her again. I watched the television and wondered why Captain Kirk got all the hot green women.


Years pass. Many years. Almost 19. I'm in a band, we were doing pretty well and we were approached by a management company, that at the time also managed Donny Osmond. He was on his comeback tour in the 90's. While they were negotiating signing us, I was asked if I could help roadie Donny's Summer Festival/Fair tour and stage manage. I was pretty industrious and loved to work. Travel and get paid well doing it? Damn straight I'll take the gig!


After a few weeks on the job, I got to know Donny a little. Enough to joke around at least. One night there were some crazy fans that I was supposed to dissuade from cornering Donny after a show. In a flash I thought of Rachel and how she dumped me for a Donny poster and in my mind I remembered Ricardo Montalban's line in Start Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, "revenge is a dish best served cold", I let all the crazed fans right on in. Donny was pissed. Later in the rental car going back to the hotel he asked what the heck was with me letting those people in? I smiled and said "Revenge!". At first he just quizzically looked blank, then started laughing. "I didn't do it! I didn't do it! It wasn't my fault! I was a kid!" He knew right where I was going. I told him about Rachel and we had a good laugh. I got my chance to confront the guy who stole my first love away. Well...not really love...but it counts.

 

 

Naked Phone Rules...
4 February 2010 | 8:33 pm

In bed naked? Just got out of the shower? Or just walking around the house in yer skin suit?


Here are the rules for talking naked on the phone:


1. If mom calls, let the answering machine pick it up. The voice of your mother and your bits jangling in the breeze just shouldn't happen.


2. If a business call comes through, take it. Use that sexual power to your advantage. "Yea...I'm talking to you! Take that!" *strut...strut...strut*


3. If it's a friend who calls...hmmm...hell I don't know. You'll know what to do. Some friends I have no problem defecating and urinating while I'm talking to them. What are friends for?


4. If a significant other? You don't need a rule for that. Every sexual thought, innuendo, and er...umm...yea...has been done under the sun a billion times over. One hopes for frequent occurrences like this to rear your Sexus, Nexus, and Plexus head up to the sky.


5. If a telemarketer calls, just walk over to the toilet and start letting loose right away. If you can't, simulate it. They won't be on the phone for long. I laughed for days after I did this. *misty-eyed-smile* *wipe* *blink*


6. If an alien calls, tell them they aren't a very good alien if they need to use a phone and hang up. Unless they're kinda sexy sounding with lots of heavy breathing, wispy noises and such. Then you can start by asking them what they're wearing? Or...from which mouth are they speaking from?


7. If.... (PLEASE ADD YOUR OWN RULES HERE)






By the way...I typed all of this typed on my computer...naked.

 

 

I Have A Gnome In My Piano...
30 January 2010 | 10:25 pm

I have a gnome in my piano. Yea...that's right...a gnome.


I had a dream a few years back. In it, I'm standing at my front door and this gnome through my white picket gate. He looks just like a gnome should, long white beard, pointy hat, rosy cheeks, smiling, and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. A good mischievous, not a bad one. He had all his stuff with him. It wasn't a lot. Just a small trunk, a bag, and jug of something seeming intoxicating in nature. He didn't say a word, he didn't have to. He wanted to move in. I know that look.


I wasn't scared. Well...I was for a second, then I just let it go. I'm always like that. When something scares me, I let it fill me up, then I let it all out like a breath. I deal with everything that way. The universe is akin to breathing. Obviously in living, it is literal, but it also helps as a reminder to dealing with things that have an ether about them. A floating. Intangible.


I treat these intangibles like breath. Fear. Happiness. Worry. Excitement. Etc.


So...back to the gnome. I looked at him welcoming and said, "Hello! Come on in! Make yourself at home." And he did just that. He came in, walked right up to my small upright piano. Opened a secret door on the right side of the Wurlitzer upright, put his stuff inside, waved and walked in. The door closed behind him and I never saw him again. Talk about a great guest! Not a peep. No fiery dragons or ice queens ever showed up.  Damn. That would have been a high psilocybin adventure! Terence McKenna would be proud.


I know. I had a dream. It was just that, a dream. Dreams aren't real. Well...I think they are. I've rambled about this before, so I won't re-ramble it. Just saying...Anything that affects you is real. The ripple in the pond was made by something. Maybe it's not substantial, but it's something. Enough to change me anyway. Perception.


I wonder about my little gnome from time to time. What was his name? Could I pronounce it? What is he up to? Is he on the intergnome chatting to his gnomebook friends? Nogging about his last noog? Watching a little German Gnome Porn? Maybe he's not into all that and does it the old-fashioned way with pixie dust. 

 

 

A Cup O' Tom Jones...
23 January 2010 | 1:46 pm

It's friggin' freezing in this old house! 49 degrees Fahrenheit! That's 9.4 Celsius for the rest of the world. So...first thing this morning...blazing hot tea...Welsh Tea...which my Northern U.K. friend constantly reminds me doesn't exist. Well it does dammit! I can send pictures! Since it's called Welsh tea and many awesome Welshman have made their way in the world, I have christened it "A Cup O' Tom Jones". Yea...yea...yea...I know the reference. I'm not homophobic. I am so far away from that end of the spectrum I'm not at the least bit worried of myself crossing over to the other side and becoming a double agent.


Besides...Tom Jones kicks ass! My first song of memory is CCR's "Proud Mary". They're my favorite band...they put me in my happy place. The second song of memory was John Denver's "Sunshine On My Shoulders", the third was "Rain Drops Keep Falling On My Head" by B.J. Thomas...but the fourth was "What's New Pussycat?" by Tom Jones. Hmmmm...listing those songs like that...it's kinda scary. "Get Back" from the Beatles "Let It Be" album was next...


I feel like I'm undressing in front of everyone. Ummmm...I'm gonna stop. Oh...but that's what I do. I undress in front of people...er...so to speak. Everyone love's an accident...a car on flames...flashing lights...blood...sugar, salt and fat.


Where was I? Oh yea...Tom Jones! He kicks ass! Some people think he's cheesy, but they're missing the point. They're missing the fun! He's fun like a barrel full of vaginas...ummm...that are still living...they aren't pickled or anything. *laughing* Too much caffeine? TOO MUCH CAFFEIND?!!! Could be! It's not me, it's the Cup O' Tom Jones!


Damn...I gotta jet. I gotta fly. Gonna meet Poltzy for...coffee! Damn your eyes! Too Late.

 

 

Hurricanes and ABBA...
21 January 2010 | 2:29 pm

Yes...I know...it's not hurricane season. I live in San Diego. Weather is a rarity here other than 80 degrees and sunny, but it's Winter here....and it's pretty rainy-stormy-windy-floody. This takes me back to Pensacola, Florida and being 8 years old. A hurricane suddenly changed direction and took our Navy Blue Angles town by surprise. Not that we should have been surprised. Unable to evacuate, we boarded up our windows. Electricity gone. Just candles, a multi-band radio for weather info, a portable 8-track player, and a deck of cards.


The wind was howling like a freight train, it sounded like death screaming to me, "Get your ass over here, die already, I'm busy and have places to go!" Well, I wasn't gonna oblige. In fact I was ignoring Him. Yes, it's a Him. For me, Death is a Him and Life is Her. Anyway...I was busy. Busy playing cards, playing "War". You know the card game right? Well if you don't, I'm not gonna explain it. *smile*


So I'm playing War, winning, and listening to ABBA's Greatest Hits, "S.O.S." is blasting...so right for this moment...perfect. Then, "Knowing Me, Knowing You". Then, "Fernando" and "Dancing Queen"...


S.O.S. - "So when you're near me, darling can't you hear me. SOS! The love you gave me, nothing else can save me. SOS! When you're gone (when you're gone). How can I even try to go on. When you're gone (when you're gone). Though I try how can I carry on..."


Fucking ABBA. I'm wondering if our house will get swept up, if this will be our last day. Forever entangled in my mind and heart. Near death and ABBA. Harsh weather and ABBA. 


ABBA! ABBA! ABBA!


"You seem so far away though you are standing near. You made me feel alive, but something died I fear. I really tried to make it out. I wish I understood. What happened to our love, it used to be so good." 



So good...so wrong. Twist me, tangle me. Take me away. Save me from Death my Holy Trinity of Swedish Lovelies!!!


I am safe when they're with me. Death cannot fucking touch me...

 

 

I Killed A Hummingbird...
11 January 2010 | 3:09 pm

I killed a humming bird. I was 13 years old. I had my bee-bee hand gun and shooting oranges off of trees like "Angel Eyes" Clint Eastwood...well...kinda like it. No Spaghetti Western sound effects or Confederate gold to be gotten. Then it came, a ruby throated hummingbird right in front of my orange tree. I slowly raised my gun, aimed with my left eye, squeezed the trigger...and POW! Or rather "pip".


This was the slow-motion portion of the shot. I hit the hummingbird square in the throat. It's neck flopped down sideways and fell dead immediately.


This image runs through my mind to this day. I have never forgotten one of the worst feelings of my life. I say I'm sorry to that little bird every time I think about this. I ask for forgiveness. I was a stupid, stupid child. Killing a life needlessly, without purpose except to see if I could do it.


I am not a natural born killer. Yet, I have taken part in many deaths for my hunger. Someone else doing the dirty work. Not I. I try to think about the animal before I eat it. I respectfully acknowledge it's life for my life.


I am not a vegetarian. I know that something must die for me to live. That is the price of life. You can place more value on an animal's life than a plant, but life is life in my book.


The important thing is to remember and to be humbled by the life that was lost to maintain my own...to be grateful. The inexcusable is needless death like my poor hummingbird. I will never ever forget...






Sent from the Black Forest.

 

 

Hungry Tigers Unleashed...
30 November 2009 | 1:09 pm

I submit that it's not what you do, but what you think that counts. Scary prospect I know...considering what we think at times, but it might be a more honest road. A road fraught with fear, pain, animal urges, as well as hope, love, and a need to be loved...what we really are, not what we want to be.


I think that to deny existence of our most inner terrible, demented, fucked-up thoughts is a poison. We poison ourselves everyday. If we can acknowledge to ourselves that these thoughts, no matter how embarrassing they are, we have a real chance of confronting them. A real chance for introspection and maybe a resolve. To finally let go some of these mental tigers, let them run free and take their place in the nature of ourselves. There, they might die, or make new cubs. In any case...an answer.


To know oneself is to acknowledge every dark thought and as well as our shiny-sparkly-bright ones. I say let it begin! Maybe we'll find out we are not the person we thought we were, maybe we'll find out we're exactly the person we thought we were, more surely a little of both...and that's okay. The sooner we get real with ourselves, the sooner we can fix, heal, and embrace within.


I don't know about you, but my tigers are foaming-frenzy-famished-tigers. Only time will tell if I shoot them or let them live..."Born free! As free as the wind blows! As free as the grass grows! Born free to follow your heart!"

 

 

Ursa...
25 November 2009 | 3:34 pm

It's Fall. The falling. The smell of burning and last breaths. A linger of life before the big quiet. Soon I will turn unto myself. I sleep to dream. I wait.

 

 

I'm a Lousy God...
11 November 2009 | 2:40 pm

I'm a lousy God. I usually have dreams with people I've never met in real life, but they will re-occur in different dreams I have later. After a while I forget about them. Time goes by. Then I'll be sitting in the car and I'll remember them. What we did and maybe talked about. When things are a memory they seem like they really happened. I mean...that's how we live our lives, going though the now and the memory of the past. What happens when our memories get mixed up from what happened in reality and in our dreams? Are they any less real? What affects us, becomes real. We make it real. In a sense, we create worlds in our reality. I've created people in my dreams. I think about them. Maybe more than people who live in my "real" life. Do they exist? I think they do....at least in some misty swirling way. They have become real to me. I created them. I created them and I rarely think of them. I'm a forgetful shitty God, who doesn't give them hardly anytime to live. I don't listen nor answer a single prayer of theirs. I hope they will forgive me for bringing them to life and only letting them live in the occasional short moments of my dreams...forgive me. I love you.

 

 

Talking With My Inner Dialog...
30 October 2009 | 3:57 pm

Outer: I need to go to bank. I gotta get ready for my Nashville trip. Shooting my Atom Orr video for my song "Friends Fur Life".

 

 

I'm Not Talking Truth, But Crazy Truth!
21 October 2009 | 1:32 pm

I'm not talking about truth, but "crazy truth". There is a difference you know. The truth we all equate to is fact. 2 + 2 = 4. Crazy truth is 2 + 2 = 6. "Oh...I thought I saw that last number as a 4." Our perceived truth. It's not factual, but just as strong. More often than naught, we choose crazy truth over truth. Most of the time because we don't think there is a difference, and others because we know there is a difference but we like the crazy truth better.


In this sense we are creators of our reality...like when we dream. Ever read "The Circular Ruins" by Jorge Luis Borges? It's a short read, you should take a gander. He was heavily influenced by Miguel de Cervantes...you know the author of "Don Quixote". Another proponent of the alternate reality of crazy truth. 


The question is...should the crazy truth be encouraged? Are we just fooling ourselves? And if we are, is it a bad thing? I like to claim myself as a realist most of the time, except in my flights-of-fancy-creative-whack-out-moments. I do this, because a lot of the time it is helpful. Though I must confess, being a 100% realist is too much of an observist point of view and not taking an active role in defining our lives, but simply pacifying. There is something to being a "leaf in the wind", accepting the lack of control we have in our lives, but to murk up the waters further, I believe we need to take an active role in our acceptance. That is to say, it is a team effort. We are holding hands with fate, free will, truth, and crazy truth. Did y'all need to take a break and smoke some of that awesome medical marijuana before continuing to read this blog? On a side note, blogs are so damn one-sided. I'm sure many of you would have some highly emotional discourse on this. I'm sure we could figure out the universe and how to save the world in a few hours if it was late enough and we all have our favorite libation and munchy food at our sides.


I prefer a really good whiskey or magically laced brownie/cookie items, along with some kind of protein/dairy/fat/caffeinated/chocolaty/sugar goodness and lain into some comfy contraption that points me towards the heavens. We'll continue this and meet up around 3 a.m. okay?

 

 

Swing and a Miss! Or Vacuum Cleaners Unite! Or Ignore Him It Was The Cheerleaders
20 October 2009 | 5:19 pm

No....I'm not talking about a tree swing and Little Miss Muffet who sat on something eating curds. Nope. I'm talking about missing....you know...the opposite of hitting. Why all the accolades for hitting? I think there is some credit due to all the wild swings out there that people make every day. I say go out there and strike out! Swing away! Let loose all this conservative life stuff. Sure...you may miss, probably miss a lot. Maybe even every single time. Better than to get hit by the ball and walk to first base. Sure in baseball that's fine, but in life, that's an awful way to get around...even painful. Don't be afraid to strike out! I'll be there standing up and cheering for you! I'll do a one person wave. I'll hit the beach ball down to you. I'll buy you a beer and some cracker-jacks.


You think Reggie Jackson ever struck out? Hell yea he did. All the great hitters have. All the great artists, philosophers, do-gooders, world-shakers, world-changers have struck out. They got those hits by swinging and being unafraid to miss. Missing is as important as hitting. Maybe more, because you can learn a lot from a failure, and almost learn nothing from a success. So go out there and dare to suck! I've been sucking for years and plan to continue sucking until I can't suck no more. Get your head out of the gutter! Granted I have a huge deficit in my moral fiber, but you know what I'm laying down, so pick it up and start swinging!


You hear that? No...it's not a large vortex making a large sucking sound...it's the universe cheering.


Hmmmm...I'm way too positive today. I think it was the baton twirling scene from "A Face In the Crowd" I saw today...it got my juices flowing...

 

 

Digging In the Dirt...
16 October 2009 | 1:04 pm

All I do is not enough. Nice, normal people. What is exactly that? Proceed. Proceed Cady/Christopher/Atom. We never know what "will ruin everything". "Oh it's you! Hey you! You're the one that will ruin everything! Cool..."

Opposites. Diametrically opposed forces...and I'll agree with both. Take for instance the ideas of Ayn Rand and the idea of the individual, the creator...and conversely the idea of "to be of service" to others. I feel that I must be both at the same time. Maybe I just have a propensity for all encompassing mind-fucks. *laughing*

Maybe to better be of service to others you gotta get your own stuff worked out first. Hmmm...not first. That would mean we'd never do anything for others for 50 years or we walk into the desert for 40 days alone. We can do it whilst we're still under-construction. I have a lot more construction needed. A week in the stockade won't help me. "Yes...I did it. I touched your woo-woo..." We all have woo-woo's...and they all must be touched. We gotta eat, breath, squint when it's too bright. I am fucking with you. Really...I'm not. I'm both! This is the point.

I'm digging in my dirt and when that happens I might find almost anything. This isn't the usual nothing. There's nothing and then there's nothing and this isn't nothing because it is nothing! Damn it! I did it again! This is evidence for my banishment proceedings. Banish me. I've been bad...I will continue being bad and will continue being good and trying not to be a selfish asshole in this whoreld...this world.

I'm not gonna hit delete. Delete is for pussies.

 

 

Down the Rabbit Hole...
6 October 2009 | 1:16 pm

Unicorns having three-way penetrative sex whilst vomiting rainbows and farting magic...this is in my head...oh dear... It's is amazing what can be found on the Internet. Every perversion known to man and few man didn't know it had. Like UniPorn. Porn with unicorns. I won't list these links for you, because it is simply too easy to find it yourselves.