I believe that everything is connected...I believe there is no death...I believe in destiny made by free will...I believe a double cheeseburger is always better than a single cheeseburger...I believe everyone should follow their heart and their brain will eventually follow...I believe in Karma because if I don't, I won't be able to keep bad things from happening to a minimum...I believe everything has a cost and can only live so long on credit...I believe that it's the silences that have the most to say...I believe if I get paid peanuts I can still eat them...I don't know what I believe, but I know there is more than I know, which makes anything possible...
The Black Forest
Random blaghness...
Fountains of Fountainhead!
Yesterday while nursing an untimely scratchy throat, seeing that I had an Atom Orr show last night, I was watching "The Fountainhead" by Ayn Rand. I love this movie with Gary Cooper and Patricia Neal. The ideas and ideals that Ayn stirs up in her book and screenplay are like a vitamin B12 shot and a half tab of Viagra at the same time. "GRRROOOWWWLLGRRRR!!!!"
The speech Howard Roark makes at the trial...ooohhhh!
Thousands of years ago the first man discovered how to make fire. He was probably burned at the stake he had taught his brothers to light, but he left them a gift they had not conceived of, and he lifted darkness off the earth. Through out the centuries there were men who took first steps down new roads, armed with nothing but their own vision. The great creators, the thinkers, the artists, the scientists, the inventors, stood alone against the men of their time. Every new thought was opposed. Every new invention was denounced. But the men of unborrowed vision went ahead. They fought, they suffered, and they paid - but they won.
No creator was prompted by a desire to please his brothers. His brothers hated the gift he offered. His truth was his only motive. His work was his only goal. His work, not those who used it, his creation, not the benefits others derived from it. The creation which gave form to his truth. He held his truth above all things, and against all men. He went ahead whether others agreed with him or not. With his integrity as his only banner. He served nothing, and no one. He lived for himself. And only by living for himself was he able to achieve the things which are the glory of mankind. Such is the nature of achievement.
Man cannot survive except through his mind. He comes on earth unarmed. His brain is his only weapon. But the mind is an attribute of the individual, there is no such thing as a collective brain. The man who thinks must think and act on his own. The reasoning mind cannot work under any form of compulsion. It cannot not be subordinated to the needs, opinions, or wishes of others. It is not an object of sacrifice.
The creator stands on his own judgment. The parasite follows the opinions of others. The creator thinks, the parasite copies. The creator produces, the parasite loots. The creator's concern is the conquest of nature - the parasite's concern is the conquest of men. The creator requires independence, he neither serves nor rules. He deals with men by free exchange and voluntary choice. The parasite seeks power, he wants to bind all men together in common action and common slavery. He claims that man is only a tool for the use of others. That he must think as they think, act as they act, and live is selfless, joyless servitude to any need but his own. Look at history. Everything thing we have, every great achievement has come from the independent work of some independent mind. Every horror and destruction came from attempts to force men into a herd of brainless, soulless robots. Without personal rights, without personal ambition, without will, hope, or dignity. It is an ancient conflict. It has another name: the individual against the collective.
Did you make it to the end without skipping? If you did, then you know what I mean about the B12 and Viagra, if you didn't then you probably aren't reading this and have skipped to find out the latest high jinks of Paris Hilton or Dick Cheney. (Notice I equated the two.) *laughing* Anyway, all that legal-CinemaScope-stimulant got me through my show last night. I only messed up once with "Happy Accidents"...figures. *grin*
Absurd World...
Kwai Chang Caine killed himself today. Or at least the actor that played him did, David Carradine. Hunter S. Thompson did too. Many have. Suicide. I have friends who bandy this word around now and again. I am always filled with empathy when it's talked about. Empathy requires understanding. I understand. I just don't agree. I am in more agreement with Camus' thoughts on suicide, in his book "The Myth of Sisyphus". Paraphrasing..."the struggle is enough to fill a man's heart." Though, Camus would likely admonish me for the hope I always seem to have. Hope he says, brings nostalgia and nostalgia brings misery. Yes. It's true, but he ignores the fact that with EVERYTHING, there are two sides. Positive and negative. There is value in both. Having a sunny beautiful day everyday will lose it's luster. The dark rainy days are needed, so when the sun finally comes out, it has a brightness never before seen. For happiness we need sadness. Struggle and live!
Free Will and Fate
Hope and Acceptance
I freely choose my path, but in knowing my myself and my nature, it is pre-determined.
Wow...I saw way too much Kung Fu on television when I was a kid! Rest in peace David, Hunter, Sigmund, Ernest, Ian... Of course, I don't believe in death either, but I'll save that for another post later. *laughing*
Thunderstorms and Warm Rain...
It's a day of thunderstorms and warm rain today. I am instantly home sick for Memphis, Tennessee. There, it is a normal occurrence. In San Diego, where I now reside, it is a rare thing. Just even hearing thunder might be a once a year thing. I am whirled away to the south, thick trees, the smell of honeysuckle blooms, the air is dense and hovering with humidity. The strong smell of rain. No need to get inside, the rain's just fine. Warm and pleasant. Playfully stabbing the puddles on the asphalt. Putting the tears on my face I never thought I'd have again. Pounding down through the sky, washing and wiping away the memories of yesterday. All that's left is now. Now.
Flipping Through the Stations...
Swirl, swirl, mish-mash, wince...I dreamt I was in jail, no thanks to Bukowski no doubt. Imagining doing a radio show, playing crazy ass music that makes me grin in devilish delight. Visions of Donnie and Marie Osmond at Disneyland....and the Delta stewardess I met on the airplane and the two-step champion of Indianapolis during my stage/tour manager summer during Donnie's comeback year in 1992...Donnie...actually Donald. Donald Osmond doesn't have the same ring to it does it? What songs would I play on my radio show? I would probably play Marty Robbins, Electric Six, Grizzly Bear, Les Baxter, Marlon Brando singing in Guys and Dolls, The Dead Milkmen, Neil Diamond, Eagles of Death Metal, Conway Twitty and Loretta Lynn, and Ennio Morricone... Ooooh...if only you could be in my head right now...