Damaged goods

I don't think most people have any idea what I've been through, or what I'm talking about when I describe the bleakness of depression, the terror of panic, or the stratospheric thrill of creation and discovery.

When I am feeling toughminded and emotionally infragile - when I am on my medications - life is almost appallingly superficial. It is easy to float along and navigate the stream without too much trouble. On the other hand, everything seems so much richer when I am off them, both positively and negatively. I feel that most people have no idea how extraordinarily rich an experience life can be. For some reason our minds seem to only be able to function usefully when the intensity of that experience is toned down to a certain level. Otherwise, you get overwhelmed and cease to be able to make meaningful choices in the face of so much information. Almost anything becomes a valid point of view, a launching spot for deeper investigation, and soon it all gets to be too much and the mind just shuts down, or else careers off into a panic.

I find it abhorrent to have to filter the world's amazing richness through so many layers of gauze, like an audiophile decrying his favorite concerto rasped from speakers which can only reproduce a limited range of frequencies, and which significantly color the sound of those that do come through. I believe this is why artists of all stripes walk a fine line between discovery and madness. Ordinary people have no idea what they're missing, so they carry on with their lives in relative contentment. It's hard for me to be content with such a state, knowing as I do what is possible, and yet I don't want the destabilizing vertigo that comes with the full experience.

The 4 Cs

Holy cow, what did Europeans do before they had coffee or chocolate? I suppose they sat around and drank a lot of beer and wine. But these are downers, and generally imbibed at night. It's amazing they had no psychoactive substances to speak of when it comes to stimulants. Makes you wonder - with cocaine, coffee, chocolate, and chile peppers on the western side of the Atlantic, why on Earth didn't the New World become the dominant power and colonize Europe instead of the other way around?

I want the best

When it comes to material things, spiritual things... intellectual things: I want the best. Why wouldn't someone want the best of the choices before him? If I am going to buy a television, I want the one with the best picture. If I pursue an ideology, it has to make the most sense to me. I really don't understand this halfway culture of ours that makes a hero out of compromise.

It makes sense to spend as much as needed to get the best quality when it comes to something that won't go obsolete - headphones/speakers, furniture, cookware/cutlery/flatware, and so on. Why would you want something that performs at a level less than what is currently possible, if it's something you'll use over and over for a number of years?

However, logic dictates another approach when something is evolving quickly, like computers, cell phones, televisions; you should stay behind the expensive curve and buy strategically until the technology plateaus, then get the best. Otherwise, you'll only be throwing money away. Whatever limited use you get from such devices will not justify their cost. Technology is immature (in a rapid growth phase). Foolish is the person who invests more than casually in it.

Something for strangers to find

I want to feel invincible. I crave a rising tide, a feeling on the plus side, pushing darkness and lacking back. Whatever I can do to keep this snowball rolling, I will. I've run myself into tight corners in the past, too greedy, things that didn't last - this time I want staying power. I want to feel a foundation beneath my feet where before there was only shifting sand. Call it optimism.

Miskatonic

The earth is full of mysteries
And mysteries are fun to explore
But when I explore these mysteries
They aren't mysteries any more

The rate at which old mysteries die
Exceeds that at which new ones are formed
Maybe that is the reason why human life
Is so short.

Potemkin village

Dan Fogelberg said, "there's a magic every moment." I would agree, and make the thought even more precise. There's no magic in the world if you look at life as something that occurs over time, but if you can literally narrow it to an instant - or as close as is attainable by the neural feedback system of the human mind - something magical indeed does happen. For one thing, you can ignore pain. Just choose to disregard it for that split second, perhaps telling yourself you'll deal with it in another moment. For another, you can resolve to feel joy, choose fascination over frustration for a single instant regarding a single thing. Just do it for a second, pull those mouth corners into an expectant smile. Lastly, you can relax completely if you choose, just for an instant, just by breathing out and letting go.

The trials man suffers as he plies his way from cradle to grave have been well documented by thinkers from the Greeks to the quantum physicists, from the fundamentalists to the humanists and beyond. But in an instant, all philosophy fades. It doesn't matter if you are bent on correctness, or saving for a future. It doesn't matter the color of your skin, the stamps in your passport, the letters after your name. If you are willing to let go, to resume the childhood dream of anyplace and anytime, you can shape a single instant into whatever you want it to be, can narrow all fears and insecurities till they are vanishingly thin, can conjure a magical sunrise out of the bleakest milieu - transforming it into something mysterious and wonderful. There IS a magic every moment, should you decide on the spot to invoke it.

And instants stand back to back to back, soliders in an infinite parade celebrating the past and future, and should you choose to remain present and focused, you can string magical moments together like beads in a necklace and stretch villain time to do your bidding. All it takes is the will right now.

Untitled

dark circles beneath my eyes underline
the toll it takes to cry.
on a summer's day, awake
or any day
seems absurd to get involved and then
suffer the wrath of disappointment
or the fury of conquest.

i'll give up my masculinity.
the world wins. it doesn't matter to me now.
i'll take my ego off its respirator.
i have decided to live a true life
or no life
simply because i dont think i can
possibly do otherwise.

Seeds in sausages

Why do I feel so embattled by the horrible truths of existence? Is there some big secret that many others in the world, the "normal" ones, are in on? They're not panicked and going insane because they know all about it and have either transcended to a new, less disturbing understanding of the world, or they have devised better ways to forget and ignore? Or are they just ignorant of it in the first place? Or are my perceptions so skewed that things are not really the way I think they are, and no one even knows what I'm talking about?

Manifesto

The faceless forces of corporate culture bulldoze on. The market-driven might of the majority steamrolls the artist, the mom and pop, the protester, the loner, the martyr. And most people, in their diatribes against RIAA, against MPAA, against HDCP, get it all wrong. It's not "greed" we fight against - that implies someone with intent running things. Rather, it's the sum total of pressure brought to bear by a free market, which has behind it the weight of millions and millions of comfortable consumers who are serving their own self-interest by keeping the status quo in business. Democracy, or "might makes right," necessarily sacrifices the endeavors of the minority, however beautiful or rare they might be, to the whims of the masses, however banal those might be. In the end you are snuffed beneath the pillow of the modern machine, not by an opponent with discrete ideals who will look you in the eye and snarl at you, but by an amorphous villain oozing over and soothing those who don't stand out in any way. It's the ultimate triumph of mathematical mediocrity.

So what do we in the minority do? By minority I mean ANY minority; any departure from the bland. This would include just about all musicians, artists, writers, or other creators of things. This would include anyone with a strong opinion or a sense of curiosity. It would include all scientists and philosophers. What do we do? We forget trying to predict the outcome, refuse to despair in the face of great odds, and carry on with our business. After all, independence of spirit has always been a struggle of the few versus the many. Like Nelson's dictate "England expects that every man will do his duty," we resolve to create and think and stand firm in our independence no matter what.

You don't need to move to a log cabin and become a hermit. You can stay in the world and make choices, even if at times you are limited to "lesser evil" choices. You can use your great power to harm to do good instead. You can shop locally, buy on principles, boycott egregious wrongs. You can make your own life count, to yourself as well as others, by wearing an honest smile and speaking the truth, by staying healthy and encouraging others to stay healthy, by giving back to whatever communities you take from. You can share files at a 1:1 ratio. You can take time to answer questions as well as ask them. You can donate to worthy causes. You can encourage children especially to imagine and to share.

In short, you can do what is in your power to do, and no more - but that is enough. To the independent soul, that is infinitely better than doing nothing at all.

Hooray!

I survived another day.

Marduk

Most people are deadened by the world
I am saddened by this world
Faces stare leaden through car windows
The silence behind the noise is maddening
Most people are incapable or unwilling
To think for themselves
It's soul-chilling

While their children gather together
Beneath our dark skies hand-in-hand
Strain their eyes to a future without color or sound
As numberless as grains of sand
They remain standing
And the only days that are left to them now
Are infinite and bland.

Giving up

Is it possible any more to feel good? Yes, it is. Of course it is. You have to stay in constant movement, don't get satisfied, don't analyze. Embrace change, don't fear it. You have to pound your chest and rest only when you need it. That's the spirit. Do things that feel right, not good. Getting lost in the city is like being lost in the woods. Cyberspace is innerspace. Stay outside and pick flowers, come inside for lunch. Watch a movie but don't drown yourself doing it. Lay down at day's end for a well-earned break, then roar back tomorrow with a vengence. Never give up.

Untitled

life pods
where life goes on
just barely

life pods
where life goes on
if you can call it that

life pods
are comfortable
and unchanging

were I
never alive to see them
I wouldn't believe

Slow poison

My biggest gift, or at least my most devloped skill, seems to be irony. Ironic humor. And yet of all the people I know only one really 'gets' that type of humor. Everyone else around me either doesn't get it at all, or they recognize it but don't find it particularly amusing themselves. Thus, blog titles, poetry lines, observations in a chat online or face to face, and pretty much any other way I attempt to communicate with the outside world is doomed to failure in trying to convey its full meaning. And all that humor - all that beautifully complex humor - is lost.

What St. Peter will say

"Let's see. You've denied the divinity of Jesus, the existence of God, and the sanctity of life. You've taken His name is vain and questioned the validity of his Word. You've actively sought to dissuade others from indoctrination into His teachings. Instead, you've espoused near-atheistic Eastern philosophies which empower the subcreation of Man with the authority to choose his own experience and destiny. You've clung to empiricism when everything surrounding you has shown that experience and the science built upon it cannot be trusted, because they lie subordinate to and are necessarily filtered by human psychological considerations. You've written off profound sensations arising from dreams and drugged states as meaningless in a spiritual sense, attributing them instead to the vagaries of neurology. You've made jokes about those who believe in God, about God Himself, and - in fact - about this very position you find yourself in today, your presentation at the Pearly Gates."

"On the other hand, you're very good at catching things falling unexpectedly when opening the fridge door."

"Ok... you're in."

Getting stuff in the mail is cool

I like getting packages, cards, letters. Even if it's just a trinket, the simple act of walking to the mailbox and being rewarded with something to open is one of life's little pleasures. You get to anticipate as you walk back home. I wonder what Jon is up to? So and so remembered my birthday! Cool, I forgot I ordered something from Amazon. And so on. It doesn't really matter what it is, the fact that you've gotten something in the mail is cause for a tiny celebration on what may be an otherwise nondescript, grey day.

Solveig

safety has its dangers, too
reach the end of each alley
shine a light in every corner
see the path that takes you to the sea
and you were only born for you
and I was never free

so I just leave the light and take it slow
move with it frame by frame
where it takes me is where I'll go
where the mystery leads,
I never want to know
the chase is the thing

and if the world really were to end
what a godsend
for it would save us from all those untidy
and inconvenient loose ends
no way to tie up or summarize the past
the past exists in lock step with us now

but I know something,
the feelings I have inside me right now
if I know one thing alone
it's that I crave you beside me right now
if I ever stood for anything
let me stand by your side should you let go

Glint

Why do some people take chances and others play it safe? Why do many enjoy the risks and reward of the larger world while others cringe and cling to the known? Life comes in such variety, such complexity. Why do some blossom under the light of the sun while others shrink away and shrivel? Sometimes I see the outside, exchange a smile, smell the grass that grows along the road, and for a moment I hesitate. Sometimes I do not want to go back to my safe little world.

Untitled

At dawn simply
Relieved to be
Vessel of serenity
No fear today
No forward thinking
I move my limbs
Feel free
Mind is in the body
Not the other way round
Nothing profound
Just sun's red rising
And cool air
Vitalized now.

High School

Buying posters on Pier 39 with my Mom and my brother and my friends. Martin Gore, Siouxsie Sioux. Kissing Jennifer Harrison on a bench on Pier 39 one night on a date in the middle of high school. Mrs. Fields cookies. Doing what was unexpected in the moment, fully expected in the grand scheme of adolescence. Dalliance; affair with a black girl. Kissing in spades. Parents never knew what I was up to, returning the Honda Accord late one night, never suspected the intellectual risks. Fields of clover on Bennett Mountain unaware of Death looming over the cow-grates, forget about Gravity Hill, this was Love and Life, tapes played in sequence. Nature is ancient. Trees call and echo Stephen King, Bauhaus, Ian Curtis like I am full of taxidermic Palace of Fine Arts place-time Japanese uncertainty. Forever. I wish I was still a child of my mother and father. I wasn't made for this big industrial world.

Net

Sometimes I love life, sometimes I don't. But the point is, sometimes I do, which is a benefit over the no-exist condition. If you're not around, you can't feel good. While this is a bit of twisted logic, it still intuitively works. I think most of us feel that living a life of happiness and fulfillment is preferable to being dead, while living in constant pain and sadness is probably worse than death. Nevermind that comparing living states with nothingness is like diving by zero - the point is, that's how we feel, and we base our actions around that intuitive feeling. So if you can ratchet things up so that you feel good at least as often as bad, you're at least at the level where life and death are a wash. If you can do a bit better than that, you've given yourself a reason for living.

Certainly there have been and will continue to be those heroes among us who suffer ungodly torment and yet elect to go on living. I would never tell another what they should or should not do, and indeed I find such stories a source of wonder and inspiration like most people do. But would I do the same in their shoes? I honestly can't say. I don't see why I would, from a logical standpoint, but of course when you bring that zero-division of death into the equation logic sort of goes out the window. Maybe the will to survive as an instinct overtakes the rational mind at that point, even for those of us who consider ourselves rationalists in the extreme. Never underestimate biological programming.

Anyone still reading this?

Post something!

Scrabble

Scrabble is a fun game. My feel for wordplay and semi-large vocabulary contribute to my success in this game, to the point where I suppose I am above average. Still, there are untold numbers of people better than me, and that bothers me. Now, saying such a thing seems to strike most people as egotistical, or worse, and that hurts because, like the notion of chivalry, I've always thought it to be a noble thing, an admission of imperfection and refusal to resort to excuses, along with an earnest desire to try harder. In other words, it's positive, not negative.

I don't believe it's egotistical to strive to better oneself, to have amibition. I think it's admirable to aim to be the best, and also - here's the catch - to accept graciously the position you actually find yourself in, whatever that may be. So accept the hand you were dealt biologically, set your sights high (if the matter interests you of course), and work to become the best you can be. This ethic is praised in most quarters but irrationally condemned in others.

My high score to date is 536. I believe most scores in this neighborhood or higher rely largely upon 'bingos' (7-letter plays) due to the large bonus they confer. This is the chief focus of my efforts at the moment, such that I'll forgo better non-bingo plays in order to accumulate a mix of letters that gives me a better chance to bingo (within reason). It's almost too bad such a mechanism exists. It would be nice if the quality of the word - a subjective concept, of course - were more highly rewarded. But Scrabble is a game relying on codified rules, rules that will not change for anyone. In that context I do cherish the game for what it is.

And I practice my bingos.

I love my family

I am so thankful for the people who have made life as tolerable as it is. At times not only tolerable, but enjoyable. Sometimes even transcendent. Thank you Taunya, Heath, Mom, Sue, Reuben, Aaron, Bill, and everyone else who has been there for me, who has entertained me, who has listened to me. It means the world to me.

The genie out of the bottle

Depression clouds my past
In the midst of a happy moment
I am haunted by memories
Keenly aware of the specter hanging over me
These are not just words
I fear it with every fiber of my body

Paralyzed by chemicals
Wired to a black machine
That took my identity itself away
Replaced me with someone else
Who goes on laughing and playing
On guilty borrowed time

The genie has escaped its bottle
The things I held in for so long
Have exploded, done their damage, and subsided
And nothing much feels real anymore
I can't ever go back to the way things were
Just stumble on, pushed... gasping...

Tonight's words courtesy of Sheila Chandra

Bhinna Abhinna
Everything separate yet one
Bhinna Abhinna
Everything separate yet one

Bhinna Abhinna
Everything separate yet one
Bhinna Abhinna
Everything separate yet one

Dark into light
Day into night
Dark into light
Day into night

Bhinna Abhinna
Everything separate yet one
Bhinna Abhinna
Everything separate yet one

Dark into light
Day into night
Dark into light
Day into night

Dark into light
Day into night
Dark into light
Day into night

Bhinna Abhinna
Everything separate yet one
Bhinna Abhinna
Everything separate yet one

Untitled

I don't believe in spirits
Or auras
Or gods or monsters
Or metaphysical purpose.
If there's an order to it all
I don't believe that someone knows about it
And will tell us all about it for ten bucks.

I only believe in what I can see,
Hear, taste, touch, and smell
Hell, I don't believe in that half the time.
It's fun to think about fairy tales
Spin yarns to while away
The too-real light of the boring day
But night always comes anyway.

Mozzer

New Morrissey album on the way in March! I'm so excited, I can't help but feeling excited. I hope he tours the US.

Objective or relative?

One day you're feeling positive and energetic, and all those down times seem unnecessary - just holding you back, the result of all your psychological flaws intermeshing and snowballing. To be happy and motivated seems definitely the right way to be, the state you're left in when all the fog of misperception is cleared away.

The next day you're cynical and sad and all those happy times seem like a delusion, a suspension of disbelief about a world that is so obviously pointless and rife with suffering. Without chemicals in your brain to blind you, the gritty truths emerge and you realize this is the way the world really is.

How can both states seem so real at times and contrived at others? If I needed proof in the relativism of truth, here it is. If there is some kind of objective reality to the world, I can't see it through these masks of mood and perception. And since they are the only tools I have at my disposal, the reality they construct is the only one I will ever know.

Emiliana

Jesus, I really like Emiliana Torrini. I've really only listened to the Fisherman's Woman album, but it's amazing. Just amazing.

More words than that would be wasted.