I'm not a nice person, but I play one in real life. That's why, for instance, I'm polite, patient, and understanding when talking to people in their presence, making sure to listen well and make plenty of eye contact. Then I go home and blog about how people are such idiots.

For example, people don't know how to drive, generally. For every good driver, all the other ones are bad. I can only remember a couple days in the last month when I found a parking spot at my apartment that was actually completely clear of vehicles or vehicular parts. Some bad seed parks crooked or a foot over the dividing line, and every other lemming does the same thing as you go down the row, so that when you find an "empty" spot, it's not really empty at all but has one or more cars encroaching into its territory. Then you have to decide: Do I want to be a nice guy and park esp close to the guy to my left, since he likely won't be going in through the passenger door and that way I can reset the feng shui of the parking lot starting from that point, or do I want to be an ass and park to the far right of my space, maybe a little over the line, so I can climb out of my side comfortably and screw the poor bastard who comes along next - he'll have to make the same decision I just did.

I won't tell you what I nearly always do.

Sugar-free, caffeine-free, zero calorie colas. Why?

Sade

"Mum"
(Sade Adu)

these eyes, they are the witnesses
they need no other reasons to cry
and now that they are a river
they will never run dry
they cut you down
now night is endless
and i wait for morning to come
lying there helpless
you saw me lose you mum
and you were the strongest tree
falling
watching me
the cold eyes of hatred showing you no mercy
so in this darkness the place i dwell
in it is the darkest well
and as my arms begin to mend
they only wish
to hold you again.

"I'm Not Sorry"
(morrissey)

On returning
I can't believe this world is still turning.
The pressure's on
Because the pleasure hasn't gone.

And I'm not sorry
For the things I've done,
And I'm not looking for
Just anyone.

On competing
Oh, when will this tired heart stop beating?
It's all a game
Existence is only a game.

And I'm not sorry
For the things I've done,
And I'm not looking for
Just anyone.

I'm
Slipping below the water line.
I'm
Slipping below the water line.

Reach for my hand,
And the race is won.
Reject my hand,
And the damage is done.

I'm
Slipping below the water line.
I'm
Slipping below the water line.

The woman of my dreams,
She never came along.
The woman of my dreams, well...
There never was one.

And I'm not sorry
For the things I've said,
There's a wild man in my head
There's a wilde man in my head.

Random comments.

The movie 300 is badass. Sure it's got some flaws, and the ending could have been better (not that it was bad), but it still kicks all kinds of ass. If you liked Brotherhood of the Wolf and The Thirteenth Warrior, you'll love it. I'm gonna buy that sucker when it comes out (which means I'll download a good quality copy of it). The movie The Host is unique and not easy to categorize, which I like. It's a thrilling creature feature which is at times scary, silly, ironic, wise, suspenseful, and poignant. Crazy ass Koreans. Still want to see Miss Potter, The Painted Veil, Little Children, and maybe a few others. Some (Zodiac, 23) look pretty iffy. Oh yeah, don't see Bridge to Terabithia, it's too sad. I think I said that before though.

The new Evanescence album (not so new anymore) is actually pretty good. Not as catchy as their first, and not as much diversity in the sound (rocker-ballad-rocker, etc), but it's more subtle. Her writing is much better. Ben Moody's musical imagination and guitar playing is missed, but she goes in a bit of a different direction which makes up for it pretty well. They remind me of that Finnish band Nightwish now a bit. Hopefully her next album she does away with all of the buttrock guitar backing and finds a more unique sound, like some of the too-brief tapestries of piano, chimes, choral loops, and whatnot she puts together here and there on this one.

Choirs, chants, chimes, organs... that sort of "unholy church" feeling that is pretty cool and not many bands do anything like that anymore. Enigma wasn't exactly like that either, but the "Gregorian monk chanting to a beat" idea has sort of left the scene and I think someone could have picked it up and done more with it. Then again, I like pitch-dark music, or a contrast of dark and euphoric. Anyways, the best songs on this Evanescence album just have strings and piano, or a weird tempo or something unique. The obvious attempts at in-your-face singles come out sounding generic. Worth downloading or buying for $10 if you liked the first album. This one's a little more grown up than the first but maybe not as iconic. Grown on me though - at first I thought it was completely pants.

New Air album is good, only one listen all the way through so far so I won't say much except... it's Air. You should know what to expect. Also, the new Arcade Fire album sounds really good too. Again, only one listen so far, and I didn't really hear any showstoppers like a couple on the first album, but I was playing Bookworm Adventures and had it on instead of the game music. It constantly sounded good, never annoying. I know that's not much of a review, but until I listen more I can't really say anything other than it's definitely not bad. Same overall sound as their debut, I'd say.

Lastly, the Lakers suuuck. They need to get KG or J-Kidd or Chris Bosch in the offseason if they're going to contend. If they were healthy right now they'd be one of the better teams instead of the doormat they've been lately, but they still wouldn't beat Dallas in a playoff series. Then again, probably nobody since the MJ Bulls could beat Dallas right now. They have absolutely no flaws. I'm sure it won't happen, but they could well sweep through the playoffs. They're really, really good and everyone else except Phoenix are playing like college teams right now. Where's the talent development in the NBA gone? Lots of young dunksters coming out of college with mad upside, but few seem to improve once they get to the show. Games are sloppy, everyone's shooting 3's or fronting their man hollering for a chance to put someone on a poster. Coaching is at a premium too. Why do you constantly see teams that have to foul at the end of the game run off 10 seconds before they do it?

Just got an idea for a commercial... "Come out and see the new NBA: A backdoor lob dunk every third time down the court! A behind-the-back pass every fifth time! More turnovers than assists! It's FANtastic!"

Ok, I'm done.

Bird dog.

She sat on a rock for comfort
Her dog pawing me for attention
My mind was high in the azure sky
But it was night
And there were hours to go
Business and love to sort out
Before the morning
I peeled an orange
She drank her coffee black
And with booze in her napsack
We gazed into borderless space.

So my friend,
Before you go off into this world alone
And think you can make it all up
As you stumble along
Look to me as a cautionary tale
I laughed at her adjusting her skirt
Even hair and clothes don't matter when
The stars are circling fast
We all die in the end
We're all tired in the end
Bird dog, leave me alone.

Hah. Figures.

What Famous Leader Are You?

What Classic Movie Are You?

INTP - "Architect". Greatest precision in thought and language. Can readily discern contradictions and inconsistencies. The world exists primarily to be understood. 3.3% of total population.

Free Jung Word Test (similar to Myers-Briggs)

I = 88.3%, N = 92.4%, T = 52.1%, P = 79.4%

Hand surgery not needed (probably).

A human bite wound I sustained on December 29th of last year has left my middle left finger still scarred and swollen, with no sensation at the tip and vulnerable to tremendous pain if the finger is squeezed in any manner. The nail is chipped and yellowed and beneath are large blotches of black and purple.

Because it's been two months and the wound didn't seem to be healing very much, my doctor referred me to a hand specialist and put me on a course of an antibiotic, augmentin, which I had already been put on soon after the injury occurred. I hesitated to fill the prescription for augmentin because it didn't "feel" right - I'd been on it before, plus, I was also taking high doses of ibuprofen (then naproxen sodium) to reduce the tendinitis in my knees. My stomach was undergoing enough damage without subjecting it to a yet higher dose of antibiotics, which I feared would give me diarrhea and make nauseated, while not contributing to the healing of my finger.

The hand specialist agreed wholeheartedly and said I did the best thing. We all know our own bodies best. He wasn't sure why augmentin had been prescribed again for the same injury anyway and said if I'd have started taking it he would have had me stop. He doesn't see evidence of an infection but said, obviously, if it starts to get worse or change color or characteristics then we'd have to look at that possibility, but with a different drug.

I'm not angry at those who recommended what they thought was best - I know they were acting out of caring - but it turns out I was right and that just waiting a few more days (after more than two months) to see what the specialist would recommend saved me a $10 copay and an aborted course of another strong medicine. I should have expressed my concerns more clearly, but when two doctors tell you something, sometimes you go against your gut instinct. I'll refund the $10 loaned for the copay and I hope my actions are understandable, given the description of my reasoning and the outcome that justified it.

There is new nail growth, he says, though it's occurring slowly and it may just take time for the inflammation to subside enough where the new nail can push out the old (and the dried up blood beneath it). X-rays showed no bone damage. I am to see him in 10-14 days to see if he can detect growth from a spot he cleverly marked on the nail at the cuticle line, and then will decide if anything besides waiting should be done to help to injury heal. Overall, good news.

reds.

his last days were so full of pain
and spikes of anger
how had he ended up this way
the world a stranger

hold on sylvia
I'm coming to hold you soon
listem to you tell your stories to the moon
and I'll wait for you nicola
maybe I'll be able to paint by then
maybe they'll have made you a saint by then

his last thoughts were far, far away
disconnected
it's not sadness but a final, tired apathy
that defeats our self-protection

hold on john and marvin
I can't wait to close my eyes and hear you sing
spend an eternity drifting
I'll keep a place in line for you, mom and heath
in the minute chance I'm wrong
in my disbelief.

"Life is very long when you're lonely."

Cyst. Bacteria. I Was Right.

It's a basic belief
To reach and be received
Babies cry when it doesn't work that way
Cry because that's all they can say

I've got a lot more words for you
But I'll keep them in my heart
And try to find a civilized way to release them
No one wants a thousand pit bulls loose in their yards.

I don't love you anymore
I don't loathe you anymore
I don't care what happens anymore
I don't need to be the center of attention.

Mary Todd.

When morning dawns for the last time
I will rise without shining
I will neglect to take my pills
The others will have run out
And I will go insane
I will not get desperate
Just the same

I will drive myself to get a coffee
Shaven, showered, and well dressed
Maybe my eye will find a
Cloud on which to dwell
And observe it roll past
But the time for serious contemplation will be over
Just a quick jot home, then a slip beneath the covers.

Life shouldn't have to be a sentence.

(not my photo)

To those closest.

I have something to say, dammit, I cannot be silenced
By line length limitations or truncated attention spans
Or the dumbing down of this fearful generation
Who has less to fear than any who have gone before
And the power grab to control that reprieve sickens me
Like the grief I get from stupid assholes sickens me
I am a product of my parents, of course it's their doing
Whatever Sheila, Heath, and I ended up becoming,
Not consciously on their part, but they should own up to
The role that genetics and parenting foists upon
Each mortal person, who has no idea of grand unification.
I have no ideas of grand unification anymore.
Still I have something to say, and it is not pleasant.
I will take my life the moment I have the chance
If falls within the tolerances I have set for pain
And remains, and other considerations. I contemplate
This thing anew every day, advance plans a bit further
And I'm so jaded it's like I've watched a life-changing
Movie for the hundredth time, about to start over.
I have lots to give to a world interested in listening,
Maybe a Greek world, or someplace which only exists
In our imaginations, like Peter Pan or in Einstein's equations.
The world we live in certainly doesn't want to hear it
They beat me down with reprimanding optimism when I voice it.
I want to say that life is pointless unless you have the
Genes to give you energy and talent, the formula to make
A difference, the recipe to persevere, the stamina.
For talent alone is not enough, I've tried and failed.
Now all I can hope for is to leave that trunk full of sheafs
Of contributory paper, and if something changes and we
Go back to the 19th century stone age, these will be read
And possibly cherished, or at least acknowledged.
As it is, when I die, I don't expect to be remembered
Outside some tight circle of wishy washy people with
Nothing much to say, who have no dynamism or charisma
And to whom I've absolutely nothing to relate, blind
And meaningless as they are; I'll be a fallen star
Unseen or heard in my time, pitied, left for dead by shallow
People who cannot see past the ends of their noses.

"Paul the Murderer" by Cezannne

1989, 2012. Scene is brightly lit.

High school is a really fun time. The day I graduated, one of my classmates driving a convertible ran a red light in celebration and got decapitated by an oncoming truck. The year before that, a friend who used to toss the baseball around with me (he was better, headed somewhere with his athletic skills), got smashed into a dozen pieces when his family's car rounded a bend in the highway north to Ukiah and head-on into a large semi whose driver had swerved into their path. The father, two sons, and daughter were all killed instantly, while the mother lived on life support for weeks and eventually recovered.

An exchange student from Japan who used to make us laugh with his unintelligible antics smoked at lunch in plain view, talking about Japanese culture and all the amazing videogames and consumer electronics they already had there. But he loved California. He said he was going to try to stay and attend UC Santa Cruz, if he could get his grades up. We all thought this was unlikely since he partied every weekend and every day after school until late at night, and really during any break during school if he could. After graduation he slit his wrists and his parents took receipt of their only son in a body bag, his smile gone.

When I was younger and more quiet, I was picked on by those who thought that meant I was weak and awkward. I never got beat up because the bullies weren't bigger or stronger than me, or quicker. And they were afraid. But they talked a lot, and that made the girls go for them instead of me. I tried to understand why I was attracted to girls so vigorously when they exhibited behaviors like that. Then for one or two years I decided to be more aggressive and run my mouth and act like a badass in basketball and around the lockers and at break. I laughed at people who were insecure. A fair number of girls showed interest in me, and I was popular and won an election for treasurer and a bunch of awards from teachers. My last year I was not really even in high school, though physically I still had to be. My mind and heart were elsewhere. I had moved on. I kept to myself or spent time with my clan of exchange students and poets and musicians, and my popularity fell predictably, but no one knew what to make of me outside my circle, so they ignored me. I think I probably got offered weed more often.

Yeah, high school was incomparable. The biology teacher made us do pushups if we missed pop questions, the history teacher challenged male students to freethrow contests after school for money, the typing teacher only helped you with your form if you were an attractive underage female, and my gym teacher, like all gym teachers, talked about work ethic and being responsible for being dressed and ready on time while he watched us do our private business down the long line of urinals and slapped out butts when we made "good outs." My English teacher was the worst; he made me read Catcher in the Rye, The Stranger, Catch-22, Heart of Darkness, Hamlet, and Cat's Cradle all in the same year, and gave me as a going away present "Franny and Zooey" by Salinger.

The school looks a lot different now. People have nicer cars - a lot nicer. The whole place seems to have gone two-storied. The varsity baseball field I never played on looks better taken care of than ever. Dark green grass mowed in perfectly alternating lines, professional chalking of the infield. The parking lot is redone, girls look like they have implants and people are actually dunking on the outdoor hoops. Driving by I got glares from kids half my age who I could literally kill within 10 minutes. I saw an obvious drug transfer complete with ziplock bag and cash just while trying to find a place to park. Most of the quality teachers seemed to have retired or moved on. The guys that made you do push-ups are still there. I didn't see many white kids, and there a lot more Asians than I remember, but that didn't bother me. What bothered me was that they'd painted the entire place army green and orange, demolished the penned-in bike racks (does no one ride to school anymore?), and there was a security guard wandering about who just silently nodded his head to me, a 30-year-old guy with no business being there.

I couldn't gain access to the gym, but the yearbook room was still using Macintoshes and the girls were still unobtainably pretty and the business office was completely redesigned. In fact once I learned the staff consisted of no one I knew, I hastily left since it reminded me too much of the place at which I was working at the time. I forgot to check in on the library, where I spent so many lunches speed-writing essays that were due next period. It was probably full of computers now. The lockers themselves were locked up by a metal fence, and I kept thinking the whole time... well, I guess I just kept thinking "why?" You know, Why. I was older and more removed, and less alive, and I could see what bureaucrats had done to the youth of the country, and it wasn't much different than what happened to me. The difference was I never cared, not truly.

Now I am a very successful person with a post-high-school record that is inpeccable, a wife and two point five kids in a two-storey house with a lab puppy and two cats, one of which adopted us as a stray. Business requires long hours but it's stable, and it's Good People. I have to fly to Phoenix next week to show them our prototype so we can finally get this thing off the whiteboard and into production. I don't miss any of those sublime moments in art class, or the unplanned trips to San Francisco, museums and car hotels and unlikely makeout sessions with beauties from other schools. I don't miss the murmuring stars I used to stare at from the backyard when I couldn't sleep. How could I? I'm too busy taking care of the fam and dreaming about that new powerboat. My stock is going nuts right now, so you never know.

The incomparable Delia Derbyshire

Requiescat In Pace

I'm bleeding like a pig
Skinning myself over and over again
Hog in the ground buried
But not peacefully
I produce ceaselessly
Growing hair
Fingernails
Keep gaining weight
Sweating
Breathing in
And out in huffs
Pissing, crapping
Jerking off
My cells are dying every second
And they keep reproducing themselves
I can hear them grow
There is constant construction work going on
But nothing ever happens
It's leading nowhere
Nowhere.

heisenberg.

don't
talk about now
now is a million butterflies
that are already gone
i prefer to sit silent and feel
them floating away

don't
look for them ahead
they've gone and moulted
and turned into locusts
their future is loud and touchy
and out of focus

don't
leave your head in the past
there was no past
give me the exact positions
of all the particles in the universe
their speeds and directions

I will tell you nothing.

Get this game!!





















BOOKWORM ADVENTURES
t's all kinds of fun and a good way to work out your brain for a bit. This isn't the old Bookworm (or Bookworm Deluxe), which was a word-building game in a static, tile-game interface.

This one is like that game without the stressful timer, in a changing RPG setting where you combat monsters, acquire items, potions, and power-up tiles, all while traveling through a story-driven world. There are even mini-games along the way to help you gain some additional ammunition you'll need to beat the tougher bosses.

Plus, the dry sense of humor and cute, clean presentation is a nice break from some of those breakneck paced "games" out there.

5 stars for the main adventure and 3.5 for replay value. Well worth it!

TREE OF PAST LIVES.

A possibly futile quest.

Secobarbital (Seconal) was discontinued in 2001 as a result of it being legally used in Oregon for physician-assisted suicides. This leaves Nebutol and the much less reliable and slower-acting Phenobarbital as the only barbiturates left on the market (to my knowledge). People used to abuse "reds" and the like so much they attracted notoriety and bad press means decreased legal prescriptions and thus sales. Really makes it hard on the rest of us!

Looking like some kind of KCN/H2/NO2 solution might have to do the trick. Too bad about cleaner catalytic converters and paranoid psychiatrists... but there will always be a way, if that's your choosing. Drowning and exposure scare me but they have some Zen qualities to them. There's something called a Darvon cocktail ("Bartender, I'll have another!") that's supposed to be painless, though again getting the ingredients would be next to impossible. And of course, this is all assuming that decision's been made. I am not here to judge.

Barbarism begins at home, maybe healing begins in a Buddhist stupa. Each to his or her own... don't be an asshole and judge other people's minds and spirits based solely on experiences gathered by your own flawed apparatus. Everyone should have the right to do what they want with their own bodies. God knows we spend so much time and energy in this world abusing other peoples'. It's a decision that can only be made by each person individually. Namiste.

The Final Cut.
(Roger Waters)

Through the fisheyed lens of tear-stained eyes
I can barely define the shape of this moment in time.
And far from flying high in clear blue skies
I'm spiralling down to the hole in the ground where I hide.

If you negotiate the minefield in the drive
And beat the dogs and cheat the cold electronic eyes
And if you make it past the shotguns in the hall
Dial the combination, open the priesthole
And if I'm in I'll tell you what's behind the wall.

There's a kid who had a big hallucination
Making love to girls in magazines.
He wonders if you're sleeping with your new found faith?
Could anybody love him
Or is it just a crazy dream?

And if I show you my dark side
Will you still hold me tonight?
And if I open my heart to you
And show you my weak side
What would you do?

Would you sell your story to Rolling Stone?
Would you take the children away
And leave me alone?
And smile in reassurance
As you whisper down the phone...
Would you send me packing?
Or would you take me home?

Thought I had to bare my naked feelings.
Thought I had to tear the curtain down.
I held the blade in trembling hands
Prepared to make it but... just then the phone rang
I never had the nerve to make the final cut.

-dedicated to TFM

T.

I was wrong many a time
You were a valuable friend to me
Some of the things I miss most
Are the views from the top of Mt. Hood
And the sandwiches halfway to the top
And more than that,
The quiet exertion needed all along.

And what I miss about you are the
Games we played, on the table or the floor
Or on the computer or in the car
And movie nights and popcorn
With a blanket stretched over the
Three of us, excitement in the air
A laugh or gasp here and there.

And what I miss about you are all
The talk about the Giants' prospects
For the coming year; who will be on first,
When will Barry break the record,
Is Feliz ever going to play fulltime
At one position; How amazing in that
Vizquel "kid', and what great pitching we should have!

I was wrong to think you could ever be
More than you are, a simple friend, where I
Mean simple in the best way, and our fields
Of play in the back pasture, and laughing over
The antics of cats - these outdo all the arcane
Philosophy I should have found in university
Friends. I miss you, my friend.

I think I will devote myself to dharmic study, without medication, to find my true self. Down the road, if this leads to a new appreciation of and devotion to life, so be it. If it wins me back my wife and family, so be it. But it is the only alternative to drugs or self-deliverance I can see. I just want to be happy and make others happy. I'll say it a thousand times. I won't tolerate those who belittle me, steal from me, take me for a fool, but my revenge will not come in violence (again, AGAIN, I am not a violent person by my true nature), but in mere inattention to their unfortunate mindsets. I don't understand anything, so I am feeling good in that way. No one said the road to enlightenment couldn't be fun.

I have lost faith in psychiatry. My wife has been telling me for years. I think she may sense instinctively the truth to be truth, but she never produced evidence that was convincing. Pharmaceutical companies are so convincing. They have lovely brochures, and their doctors - your doctors - talk a sermon. So tempting to believe!

But look at the facts they have to publish, in smallest typeface, marginalized by proclamations that make these freaks who failed to find salvation in their drug at best an unreliable voice. Here we see mixed with the usual bloating, gastrointestinal distress, and headaches true anomalies. Tardive Diskenisia, a Parkinsons-like condition that is permanent, even if the drug is discontinued. Changes in personality unattributable to other causes. Mania, depression, aggression, suicide. Paranoia, chest pains, renal or liver failure resulting in death, dementia.

It turns out newer drugs like Effexor (effective!) are among the least studied, most odious examples of the new breed of pharmacological/psychoactive drugs devised by man or corporation. Volunteers with no previous suicidal impulses have killed themselves inexplicably within a week or two of starting the drug. Some people have had their personalities transformed according to those who know them intimately. Do the research yourself, don't take my word for it.

I am horrified about tackling the world without drugs, but this is because I have been dependent on them for so long. I may be dead by my own hand now without them; alternatively, Imay have learned on my own to conquer my demons and find my way. Trapped in the paradigms of psychiatry, I feel a sense of stasis. A certain protection from the worst things hell has to offer, at the expense of trulybeing alive or doing anything meaningful. They teach us to fear, then sell us a product, like the government.

I am sorry to my friends and family that I have fallen victim to this trap. Millions have and don't even realize it. i will be back with another (hopefully more fact-and-reference laden) exposé of these SSRI/SNRIs in the near future. I don't absolve myself from blame in the harm that has been done, but I know these medicines have not helped in the long run. Again, I am sorry to my family, especially my wife and child, for the effects I allowed these drugs to have on me, regardless of my positive intentions.

Two People.

I am two people.
I don't know who I am.
Taunya is a saint and a devil
Or maybe she's just a human being,
Doing what she can.
And I want to love her so badly
And for her to understand.
But I am two people.
One kind and just, one too paranoid to trust
And neither one someone who can
Get me through this world alone.
This ugly world
That surrounds us and destroys our homes.
One eye sees it all and
Hate comes so easy.
But the other wants to
See what he can do to ease
The suffering going on daily.
One day, alien faces.
I float somewhere above my left shoulder
Unaware of what I will do next
Like a child at an arcade game.
A new scene, a comfortable place
Smelling the bread on the table
Seeking stability.
Oh I wish it could be so easy.
Wish it could make sense
And seem sane
And here I could remain.
But I am two people,
And two minds are never the same.