Put one foot in front of the other, and soon you'll be walking out the door

The day after Christmas. Mine was quiet, just the way I intended. I didn't do much in the way of being productive except tidy up the house a bit and buy some groceries. A good day to hit the stores with no one around.

My Christmas was probably like yours in that it was a whirlwind of activity that came and went like a typhoon. I went to my parents in the morning and spent the better part of the day with the family. My grandmother was there. She usually spends the early part of the day at my aunt and uncle's house, but this year elected to give my parent's house a try. She wasn't feeling well, though. Her feet were swollen and she had been battling vertigo. She just turned 94 early in the month; this type of thing is par for the course, sadly.

It was good being around family. Everyone understood my financial predicament and weren't visibly upset with the lack of gifts. My sister told me her family is just scraping by and the most important thing is we're all together. Actually, I don't think she said that last part, but whatever. She would have if she was in a Hallmark Christmas movie.

I was sitting by the Christmas tree and spotted an ornament I had made my mother as part of a school project back when I was in fifth or sixth grade. It was star shaped and wrapped in yarn. In the center was a tiny picture of me from my school photo. I held it in my hand, fondly remembering those days when things were simpler and Christmas was a different sort of holiday for me. I'm not particularly nostalgic these days, especially because I've learned it's a trap of the ego and its hypnotic effects can be tough to part with. Still, it was a warm feeling to hold that ornament and remember.

My nephew Patrick stayed close by my side the entire day. I was touched. He's five and is just beginning to assert himself. Each gift he opened was presented to me for inspection. He got some good ones. I envied his Batman shampoo and bucket of plastic pirates.

Around three, we went to my grandmother's house, where we met up with my cousins and aunt and uncle. Children everywhere. Man, if it were just adults, it would still be worthwhile, but if there ever was a holiday for kids, Christmas is it. Yeah, I know about Halloween, but that's utterly satanic.

My grandmother seemed a bit out of it, but professed to feeling much better. I wasn't so sure. My nieces Kiley and Shannon brought their keyboard with them and gave a little recital of Christmas songs. I requested a performance of Joni Mitchell's Court & Spark but it fell on deaf ears. I had to wonder if they even knew who Joni Mitchell was. Ah, those whippersnappers don't know what good music is, with their Bieber's and Jonas Brothers.


Leading up to Christmas, my sleep had been poor. I came home last night tired as shit, but I stayed up late anyway, because that's what I do. I watched Robert Zemekis' (sp?) version of A Christmas Carola and was very impressed. Jim Carrey, Gary Oldman, Robin Wright Penn, Bob Hoskins, and Tim Roth provided the voices. What a great piece of work. Visually stunning, well acted, the works. I give it two out ten stars. Nah, I'm fooling you: I give it four out of ten stars. Anyway, it's streaming on Netflix if you're interested.

I stopped by Spira's on Christmas eve for a bit. I helped her make baklava and then we watched The Vice Guide To North Korean Prison Camps. You know, holiday fare. Anyway, it was a great episode. She gave me a rockin' french press as a Christmas gift. I used it this morning and love it. So why did I toss it in the trash? Hmm...

While I didn't have much to give people for Christmas, I did make stuff like music, comics, food. All of this, especially the music was worked on constantly all the way up to when I headed over to Spira's. Today was the first day in a while where I wasn't knee deep in some project. I'm keenly aware that other people did much more than I did, but everything is relative, so get off my case. Geesh!

A short work week. The New Year approaches. I don't have anything planned for New Year's Eve yet, but I'm not too worried. Something will come up. Or not. Either way, it's a short work week.

Ok, off to do other things. I may watch a movie. We'll see. Maybe I'll watch National Geographic's show on Lord of The Rings or a Woody Allen flick. Or maybe I'll do some reading. I know for a fact I'll be eating from the tin of cookies my sister made me. I ate an embarrassing amount of them last night. May as well seal my doom and polish off the rest tonight. They're so fucking good! Forgive me father....

Wearing out things that nobody wears

I've been an absent father as concerns this blog. There are reasons, but why go into them? Let's just proceed as if my last post was yesterday. Shall we?

It's Monday and I'm tired like I always am on Mondays. This is mostly because Rick, my landlord's brother, spends an hour walking around an hour before I get up. Did I mention that he's directly above me when he does this and that he spends a full hour doing this? I don't know what the story is, but it means I get up an hour early every Monday. Wait, that's not exactly true: I spend most of that hour vainly trying to get back to sleep but always fail because that's when my multitudinous worries and concerns bombard me. So, yeah, fun times.

Spira's Christmas party was this past Saturday and it was.....interesting. I knew right off the bat the night was going to be a wild card when Foley asked if he could hitch a ride. I love Foley - he's a close friend - but you never know what you're going to get with him, especially after he's had some drinks in him.

When I picked him up around seven, it was evident he had started drinking already. I determined this because A) His breath smelled of alcohol B) He questioned where we were several times despite the fact that he's been living in this city a good many years and had taken the same route to Spira's a plethora of times C) He was VERY LOUD in his speech and D) He told me he'd been drinking. I wondered whether he was going to be a disruptive influence at the party.

I'll end the suspense: he was. In the interest of not embarrassing anyone, however, I'm mostly going to leave it at that. Just know that a good chunk of the problem had to do with a girl at the party he was hitting on unsuccessfully who, for reasons kept from Foley, was predisposed to be turned off by him. When he saw me talking with her later, he became fixated on me asking her out. He thought since he had struck out with her and she had been giving me the time of day that she was into me and that I should have asked her out. He carried on about it for the rest of the night. There is quite a bit more to the story, but we'll leave it at that.

Though our ride home was short, I couldn't wait to drop him off. Fortunately, I had Pat and Allie in the car for a bit to provide some kind of buffer. When I dropped them off, Pat mentioned something about giving him a call. Foley loudly told him not to expect a call from me since I never call anyone back. Then, as we made our way to Foley's, he brought up a former friend of mine in a way meant, I believe, to make me feel a little shitty.

Ah, but he's my friend and I love him. He's a sincere, decent person. And a loyal friend. He has more than a few admirable traits, but those others.....well, let's just say I prefer him when he's sober. I'm not always a fan of hanging out with drunks. Usually, it's an obnoxious, messy affair.

So, despite a bunch of bullshit, I had a good time at the party. Spira did a great job with the food and refreshments and there was plenty of good cheer. Plus, my beautiful princess, Missy the dog, was in attendance. She makes everything better.

What else? Well, I've been a prolific songwriter lately. A song a day. A lot of recording. Having a blast.

Been upping the yoga practice. This past week I've been learning how to perform a head stand. Almost there, but I've been crashing to the floor a lot and making a mess doing so. I fell on top of poor Missy D the other day and more recently I knocked over bucket of water and crashed into several potted plants. There's no way to master the headstand gracefully without the assistance of a spotter or a wall (Believe it or not, there's no available wall space in my apartment to utilize).

Christmas is in a few days and I'm not feeling the spirit one bit. What happened? I used to love the holiday so much. Back in the day, I'd be in the spirit in late October. I watched every Christmas special that was aired, no matter how shitty. Now? Ah, let's not get into it.

I'm freezing. I put the heat on earlier, but it doesn't seem to be working. I'll have to go investigate. Afterward, I might do some recording. Maybe I'll watch a movie. Who knows.

Jumped in the river what did I see, black eyed angel swim with me

It's approaching seven o'clock and I'm finally starting to feel better. All day I've been nursing a mild enough, yet energy sapping hangover. Last night was Tracy and Ray's Christmas party; there was a keg of beer and I drank from it. I didn't have that much to drink, but by the end of the night I was perched between very buzzed and officially drunk. While it's true I didn't have that much to drink (maybe four or five cups of beer), I also didn't have any food, which probably enhanced my condition. Oh yeah, I'm also a lightweight. There is that.

I had such a good time at this party. I always do when I'm around this group of my friends, but last night left me with such good feelings that I kept waking up early this morning recapping parts of the night and smiling. I'm filled with gratitude to be fortunate enough to have such stellar people in my life. Whenever we're together there is a lot of laughter and good cheer. Yes, I am fortunate.

Tracy and Ray organized a pub quiz for the party which went off well. We assembled four or five teams and mine was comprised of Frank, Michelle, Janelle, and myself. I boldly predicted we'd emerge victorious before the game began and my prediction bore fruit. That's right, we represented and took home first prize. I was in the other room when it was announced we won and I'm still not exactly sure what it was we won (I'm 98% sure it was an assortment of wine). So, yeah, we brought the ruckus.

I'll tell you this: I never want the party to end when I'm with these people. Really, when Janelle approached me about leaving, I thought it was still early but it was nearing the witching hour and we had a bit of a drive back to MA ahead of us. Before leaving, Rachael pulled me into the living room and told me I should ask out Janelle's friend Danielle, who rode up to the party with us. She was convinced I had a shot. "Do it, Kevin", she counseled. "Believe me, she will say yes if you ask her out on a date."

I was pretty buzzed at that point and was surprised at this development because I didn't pick up on the same things Rachael had. In fact, it wasn't just Rachael saying this stuff, others joined in. At one point Rachael wrote out a list of questions I should ask Danielle. Here's a sampling:

1. Favorite food, #'s, color. - I like this one. "Hey, Danielle, let me ask you something. What are your favorite numbers."

2. Favorite Star Wars.

3. Is she a Republican. - That would be good to know.

At the end of the note, she wrote " You can do this! You deserve this! You are awesome!" This is reason #23 why I love my friends.

So what will I do? Ah, I don't know. I like Danielle and I find her attractive, but my radar for these things hasn't been very reliable and until Rachael brought it up, I hadn't put any thought into the matter. I'm inclined to think she wouldn't be up for a date. Hell, I don't even know if she's single. I, however, am a swinging, pure-hearted, smoking hot, single, so I'm not opposed to exploring my options.

Speaking of dating, I'm pretty sure I won't be seeing Lauren again unless it's with Spira. I hadn't heard back from her for over a week after our date (We had left it that she'd let me know when she'd be free to see each other again). When she finally did call, she left me a voicemail suggesting we get together with Spira and take a yoga class together. That was all I needed to hear. Obviously, she wasn't interested in dating me. I called her back and left her a voicemail (we still haven't spoken on the phone directly) and said "Sure, let's go take a yoga class with Spira some time."

And that was basically it. I don't expect I'll hear back from her. Fine with me. I've had too many instances like this, where I slip into the friend zone at some point. I've learned from my mistakes and I'm not about to embark on a campaign to make someone interested in me. These days I hold myself in much higher esteem and am not going to put any effort into someone who isn't into me. There's a chance I'll see Lauren again and I'll be glad to see her if I do.

I didn't go to my grandmother's party this morning. I never miss family events, but I was not feeling up to going. Besides, I'll be seeing everyone at Christmas. I only feel slightly guilty.

On that note, I'm going to go see if I can get some recording done. Finished up a new song yesterday and I've got one that's nearly completed. I'll work on that and then I'll do stuff like read or meditate or watch a movie or Survivorman.

When no one cares for you, you're made of straw

They say you should never blog when you're in a foul mood or after eating a bowl of lentil soup, but I'm going to go ahead and do it anyway because I have a bit of time to kill, but mostly because I love you all so much and must satisfy this burning desire to feel close to you. I'm not really in a foul mood, I suppose, but I do feel a little punchy. Could be the rainy white-knuckle commute from work, the prospect of an even worse Christmas than the year before and the year before that (I used to love the holiday. I need a Christmas miracle!), female rejection, the short days, who knows. Maybe a joint committee of a few different things.

I'll get through what ever troubles me, at least in the short term. That's all you can do. I'll record some music later and I'll feel better. I'll meditate, listen to the Lavender Hour, watch some Vice Guide, read - these things will balance things out I predict.

An observation. The preponderance of the expression "Yay" has infected Facebook and it has annoyed me, not a lot but enough to make me not want to visit Facebook as often. Even more annoying is the fact that I should be annoyed in the first place. I guess I'm just used to hearing "Yay" uttered by toddlers when they hear good news like they're going to the zoo or daddy's coming home with ice cream. When it's uttered by adults it's a bit off-putting. It's the equivalent of a twenty year old walking around sucking on a pacifier.

I used to work with a guy who used to suck his thumb all the time. Didn't really bug me, but there was a part of me that wanted to gently suggest he might want to think about growing up a little bit, perhaps to the adolescent stage. Look, clearly I'm not the most mature man by society's standards (thank God), but I can go potty all by myself. Anyway, I'm off on a tangent. To sum up: there are "yay's " flying around Facebook like nobody's business. I find it mildly annoying and because I do I think people should utter that infantile expression even more if only to serve as a big fuck you to my ego which doesn't like anything not approved by it. And really, it's a harmless thing. So yay to your heart's content, you toddlers of Facebook. I approve. And if you need me to change your diaper or prepare you some formula, you big fucking baby, I'll gladly offer a hand.

I just had an epic Stratego battle online. A total come-from-behind-against-all-odds kind of victory. I was dead to rights and.....oh, you don't want to hear about this. Fine, let's move on.

The weekend approaches. Not sure what I'll be doing. My grandmother is turning 94 on Sunday and there will be a party in her honor. An impressive achievement, which means I'll look like a real dick if I ditch it in favor of Stratego. We'll see how I feel.

Whenever I finish a post, like I'm about ready to do, I feel like I come off as a real bitter son-of-a-bitch. I suppose I do, but generally I'm a pretty happy guy. Really, I am. Look, my life as constituted sucks beyond belief, but I've got a pretty positive outlook (despite just claiming my life is so sucky it's beyond belief). I've got a lot to be grateful for. I've said it before: I've got things to be depressed about, but I'm not depressed. Yes, I'd rather not have to go through alone, but it's probably better I do so. And, even as I wallow through these lean, despair-inducing times, I'm looking beyond them to something better.

Yay!

I've got to run to keep from hiding

So much, almost the totality, of my life as currently constituted is out of whack. I'm not going to lie to you, these last few months have been the hardest of my life. Hard, shitty, revelatory, cathartic, squirmy, confusing. All of the above and more. See what happens when you up your spiritual practice? You end up with an almost overwhelming amount of tough love.

I'm not surprised by this shakeup, I knew it would come. I had heard and read how vociferously the ego will thrash and fight to the bitter teeth of its existence. I had fair warning, which is helpful inasmuch as it reminds me I'm not sinking lower and lower into tar pits of despair but cleaning house, as it were. As unsettling and potentially catastrophic as matters have become, I find I'm buoyed by a calmness, a firm quiet hunch that I'm going to be okay. It's the catharsis of birth.

While I've felt better physically the last day or so, my inner disposition has been a mess. Not in the sense you might suspect. I haven't been tensed up in a rigid heap, shaking and sobbing. I don't feel depressed, though there are things I've been depressed about. And, to be sure, there have been times, like today, when I've felt weak and afraid, saddened and bereft. But I've also been meditating, practicing yoga, laughing, reading from spiritual literature, watching and listening to people like Wayne Dyer, Eckhart Tolle, Leo Buscaglia (I couldn't take too much of him. He yelled too much; I expected his delivery to far more gentle). In fact, spiritual pursuits have been about the only things I've craved and taken comfort in.

I reached the point where I felt backed into a corner and working without a net. Completely vulnerable, raw and exposed to good, ill, or indifferent. And the point has been reached, or will be reached very, very, soon where I can't continue living the same way. Maybe not rock bottom, but a sink or swim situation. The ego fears its death.

There's not much in my life right now that's satisfying, but in the midst of an upheaval, what is? Despite the fact that I've been pretty positive (despite the tone of this post), over the last few days I've felt beset on all sides and it's been a bit much to take. But I've been taking it and things are getting better. This too shall pass, this too shall pass.

Dim chandelier awaken me to a song dissolved in the dawn

Today was long, challenging, and did not epitomize what one would call a banner day. However, it wasn't terrible and I arrived home in one piece. There is that.

I had to be at the courthouse in Cambridge by eight this morning to record at the registry. It took me a half hour to get there from my house. On a normal day, it would take ten or twelve minutes. Traffic. And lights. Many, many lights (On the topic of lights, allow me to mention my propensity for getting almost exclusively red lights in my travels. And I tend to reach them just as they turn red, so I have to wait the full duration. I haven't been able to verify this scientifically, but I think there might be something to this business. Sometimes I wonder if I have red light karma, if there is such a thing. Or it could be my rotten negative attitude that feeds me this glass half empty perspective).

At one of the lights, steam emitted from under my hood for several seconds. I had a mild freak out (not one born from surprise - not given my car's recent history - but more having to do with feeling too sick to find the energy to do deal with a potential breakdown). Fortunately, nothing more came of it and I made it to the courthouse.

I had more driving to do today, the details of which I won't bore you with. At one point in the day, while in my car, I had a little pity party, hosted by me, for me. It didn't last long and I gave myself a pass this time, seeing how under the weather I was feeling.

I was listening to people being interviewed on NPR yesterday about who they were going to vote for in the next presidential election and the thought occurred to me that politics is like wrestling (the fake, testosterone-soaked version). Put another way, it seems people tend to react to each in a similar manner.

Most fans of the WWE know it's all scripted, but that doesn't inhibit their enjoyment. Maintaining the illusion is central, however. Sure, they know The Rock isn't really furious with Hulk Hogan because he called him a chump during a press conference, but in order to maximize the impact of this feud, the wrestling fan needs to suspend his disbelief (I say "his" not to be sexist, but because it's dubious whether there are any female wrestling fans on God's green earth).

Whereas being a fan of wrestling is a harmless, though entirely un-hip, pursuit, engaging in the "sport" of politics has its consequences. I can't prove it, but I have a strong belief that politics is scripted in a similar manner as wrestling. Probably not to the same degree, but there is a welter of evidence out there to help support my claim. People in power have been manipulating the masses for centuries. It's gone on that long because it's been effective.

If candidate X makes fifty promises during a campaign and doesn't follow through on a single one, he still has a shot at being elected. If it came out that candidate Y fleeced his constituency eight ways to Sunday when he was governor, he is still electable as president provided he assuages everyone's concerns with some carefully scripted sound bites and a well placed wink. If candidate Z, who has already served a corruption-laced first term as president, decides to run for a second term, he has a chance of being re-elected. It's as if people are saying "Look, I strongly suspect you're a fraudulent snake, a manservant of Satan, but work with me here. At least pretend you're on the level, so I can rationalize voting for the spitting image of evil itself."

Is it in our nature to want to be led, even by those who do not have our best interests in mind?

The allowance of this seemingly perpetual and unflagging support of this skulduggery may be delivered by the people being led, but it is reinforced by the rigged nature of the election process. I won't get into the labyrinth of ways this is true, but I'll set you on the trail if you're doubtful of my claim. I encourage you to research voting machine fraud and then I encourage you to sit back with a cup of tea, or some other drink that helps you ruminate calmly and open-mindedly, and give some thought to the slim-pickings list of ....ahem....."canditates" you have to choose from (I'm speaking more particularly here to the Presidential election).

A narrow and piteous list it is, I tell you with complete and abiding authenticity. I channel each and every one of my words from a higher energy well beyond the astral realm, so you can be assured only the truth emits forth.

Anyway....

We've got a two party system and even within that narrow framework, certain candidates are invisible (e.g. Ron Paul). What's that you say? It's not a two party system? We have the Green Party, the Libertarians, etc. I'll add another on to that list: the Proud Patriot Party? You haven't heard of it because I just made it up. It has as much relevance as any of those parties. Like I said, we have a two party system. Only things on the menu are donkeys and elephants.

Oh my, I've gone off on a tangent. I should be in bed recovering from this foul illness. Anyway, I'm hardly an expert on anything and I encourage you to disregard anything you wish. I guess what I was trying to say is that I think politics is just as phony as wrestling. And what I really wanted to stress was that people buy into the illusion of politics almost as much as wrestling fanatics buy into the illusion wrestling. Ah, but that's presupposing people have the belief that politics is just a bunch of smoke and mirrors, but choose to disregard that belief. Some of us are wolves, some of us are deer, and some of us are sheep. I, on the other hand, am a God! (Alright, it's definitely time to think about wrapping this up. I must have a fever).

I was listening to an interview with Daniele Bolelli, whose book 50 Things You're Not Supposed To Know: Religion is about to be published, and he was asked why people gravitate to religion. He said, and I'm paraphrasing, "People will buy into anything that makes them feel safe, no matter how implausible. That's why actual freedom is hardly ever sought after. It's the idea of freedom people like. Show them the door to actual freedom, and they'll crawl back to their cages."

Sounds harsh and it is. But it also speaks to the truth. It's why the saying "Freedom isn't Free" is an important one. Fear leaves us cowering, truth sees us standing erect and alert. Oh, man, I just realized I keep starting stuff in this post that can't be wrapped up all nice in neat in tiny little paragraphs. Why I decided to go deep when all I want to do is crawl into bed and weep salty tears of woe (Who cries for me? Who?). Anyway, I just re-watched one of the funniest movies ever made last night, which is to say Borat (Take your Hangovers and your Hot Tub Time Machines and your Old Schools and shove 'em up your cooter! ) and there's a deleted scene which I'm sharing below that speaks to starting something that should be finished. Cheers!

You love your loving, not like you love your freedom

I made it through the day without my symptoms worsening. Still the scratchy throat, fatigue. If anything, I feel slightly worse as I type this, but not by bold degrees. I think back to Thanksgiving, when most everyone I came into contact with was nursing one ailment or another. But what of my pure heart? Shouldn't it protect me from illness? It should, and I suspect it is. Without it, I'd probably be in the hospital right now.

I had some energy when I came home. I changed some light bulbs, re-set mousetraps (those lil' sons of bitches didn't find the blue cheese I put out appealing, so this time they're getting peanut butter), took out the trash, swept the stairs. I've been feeling too much like the victim of circumstance lately. Every little bit of pro-action helps.

I had pleasant interactions with people today. Why that is, I don't know, but I'll take it. I'm fatigued and it's not yet eleven. Sorry going off topic, but it needed to be addressed. Plus, it wasn't a very scintillating path I was headed down anyway. We both know that.

Lauren was has been in my thoughts here and there. Not intrusively, not obsessively, but there all the same. I'm not pining for her - we don't have the shared history to warrant that -but she's nice to think upon. I wonder where we're headed.

I just meditated for an hour. It wasn't the best session, I suppose, but I couldn't wait to do it. So much in my life feels uncertain, fragile; meditating helps with insight and keeps me balanced.

Sleep. Yes, sleep will be soon. I had trouble falling asleep last night. Had to do with feeling a little under the weather, I'm sure, and most definitely the product of having fallen asleep through some of a lecture by Wayne Dyer I had been watching. Threw my schedule all out of whack. We'll see what tonight brings.

Trapped amid fusions of wonder

A scratchy throat and a mild feeling of fatigue greeted me upon waking this morning. I ate breakfast, visited the grocery store, came home and practiced yoga. I hoped the activity would revive me to my previously hale state. Sadly, it didn't make much of a difference. We will see how things shape up. I'd prefer not to be sick at the dawning of a new work week, or at all, but last time I checked, I was still a human organism that finds itself ill on occasion.

The past week flew by. Thanksgiving was a blur. Along with Spira and Missy the dog, I went to my parent's house for turkey and other holiday fare. Spira and I helped my sister figure out how to align her iPod with iTunes and then we set my nieces, Kiley and Shannon, with Facebook accounts. Missy was a hit with the kids - they gave her attention while Spira and I were preoccupied with the computer.

From there, we went to my grandmother's house for dessert. It wasn't a full house. A couple of my cousin's were absent, my mother stayed behind because of a sinus infection, my brother in law was home with a stomach virus, and Al Roker was nowhere to be seen, despite the hundreds of invitations I had sent him. Oh, well, it was still a good time. I spent a good amount of time finding out how my cousin Brian's FBI training was going. A lot of effort, but well worth it, he told me. My father probed him about whether there was a division that handled cases like The X Files. Brian wouldn't say.
-

Yesterday, I went on that date I alluded to in my last post. About a month ago, Spira had mentioned she thought I'd be compatible with her friend Lauren. She showed me some pictures of her on Facebook (I thought she was attractive) and told me a little about her. "Alright, then, work your magic", I said.

Nothing came of it until I received a call from Spira last weekend, confessing she accidentally set me up on a date with Lauren. The two had been talking that day about a guy Lauren was about to go on a date with who didn't seem that enthused. Spira told her about me and how she thought we'd be compatible. She showed her some pictures of me and went into depth, I'm sure, about my pure heart. Spira told her there was a good chance we'd meet at one of the next art exhibits at the studio the two of them rent rooms from. Instead, Lauren asked Spira to give me her number. Way to expedite, Lauren.

I called her on Tuesday and left a voice mail. She left me a voice mail the following morning. And then another voicemail by me later on that day. After that, we communicated through texts. I spoke to her the first time when I met up with her at Block 11 for coffee.

It was such a nice day, we sat outside. My first thought about her was that she was more attractive in person. And, the more time I spent with her, the more I picked up on a kindness about her I found appealing. We talked about music (Sonic Youth used to be a favorite band of hers), yoga (she's a fairly devout practitioner), the nonsensical nature of Black Friday shopping, her upbringing in Europe and the states, her job (she's an art therapist), Miranda July (we're both fans), among other things.

We wrapped things up around five thirty. I walked her to her car and asked her if she'd like to go out with me again. She said she would. I asked if I could give her a hug and she said "Of course". So I did, and then, with her help, puzzled out where my car was parked (only about fifty feet ahead, as it turned out). As I walked to it, I raised my fists in the air and yelled, "I'M IN LOVE, I'M IN LOVE, I'M IN LOVE!!!!", and then I started sobbing. Ok, that didn't happen.

Not being a serial dater, I think I presented myself pretty well. I suppose I wasn't completely at ease, but who ever is on a first date? I texted Lauren today, letting her know it was a pleasure meeting her. She replied back the same sentiment. There are aspects of my life that are in disarray and in some ways I question whether I should be dating anyone at all. Things will pan out or they won't, but I'm not going to shy away. I may not be in a desirable place financially, but that is not what defines me. At the end of the day, I'm just grateful I had the opportunity to spend some time with Lauren. And, hopefully, I'll be able to spend some more with her. I'm not looking too far ahead (of course, I have been obsessively envisioning our wedding day, but whatever, everyone does that).

Cheers!

Remember to let her into your heart, then you can start to make it better

About an hour ago, I was standing over the toilet peeing when I felt something on my foot. My first thought was to wonder if it was a mouse. I didn't really believe it, though. When I looked down, I saw that it was indeed a mouse. I let out a yelp of surprise and tried not to get pee everywhere. The mouse fled under the tub. What a jerk!

I exited the bathroom and went to the kitchen to prepare dinner. I called my sister and while talking with her I saw at least two mice waltzing around the kitchen with impunity. I was still a little on edge from the bathroom incident, so every time I saw one, I got a little jumpy. I'm not afraid of mice, but I'm not a fan of them climbing all over me. I declare war. It won't go well for these tiny terrorists.

Taking advantage of the weather, I made my way to the park by house and read from my book by Paramansa Yogananda. It was a great day to be out. Winter is encroaching and there will be fewer and fewer days like it. I would like to abolish winter; it's just a lousy season.

Stepped up my yoga routine today and I'm feeling the results. A bit sore here and there, but I'm glad I'm challenging myself in at least one area of my life. I'll be looking into what it takes to be certified as a yoga instructor.

Tonight I will watch The Tree of Life, a film I've been eager to see for a while. I've been looking forward to it all weekend. I've also been watching a wonderful series from the History Channel about the Revolution. People who are on the fence about or in opposition to the Occupy movement would do well to revisit that time in our country's history.

Listening to the new Feist album. Meh. I always find her stuff rather lukewarm. I want to like her more, but it hasn't happened yet. Maybe it never will. Whatever. I just switched over to Beggar's Banquet. A wise choice.

Thanksgiving is around the bend and I'm looking forward to it. Spira and Missy the dog will be joining me at my parent's house. We intend to set my nieces up with Facebook pages per their request. I will school them on how to vaguebook, humblebrag, and post updates that no one needs to hear about. They will be well equipped.

I will be going on a date in the coming days. I will keep you posted about how it goes. In the meantime, I will endeavor to decipher the secrets of the universe; failing that, I will eat some rice cakes and watch clips of Beetlejuice on Youtube. Make it happen, Cap'n!

Just like the sand out in the sea, what good is sugar if you have no tea, what good are you if you don't have me?

Been tough going lately. Let me rephrase that. It's been challenging lately. I say lately, but it's been years and years. That's life, though, and it's a school in which we learn. We're supposed to fuck up, otherwise we'd all be enlightened and wouldn't be here. Anyway, I've been working through ingrained, outdated, and not advantageous patterns, and, well, it's been a bumpy ride. But not, I should note, one that is heading down a steep, icy hill towards the yawning abyss of the ocean's maw.

I'm heading upwards, baby! Doesn't feel like it right now, but why would it? I'm in transition, discarding the muck and letting in the light. Not. Fucking. Easy. With all the meditating and yoga I've been doing, I still find myself deferring to my ego, that raging, needy beast. It is fighting me tooth and nail because it feels threatened. It will not relinquish its hold in a gentlemanly manner. Maybe if I ask it nicely....

A by-product of the inner work has been occasions of prolonged restlessness. I'll pick up a book and get through a page or two when I get bored and move on to something else, like a movie. And I'll be lucky if I get through twenty minutes of that. And then on to the next thing. I don't know why exactly it's been like that sometimes. It's felt like I've been off course and everything I've attempted to do hasn't been what I should be doing. Oh, I don't know.

Last night I found myself annoyed with someone. Doesn't matter what about, but my body became tense. The thought came to me that unless I let go of this and every other ego-generated hang up, it'll never end. The words "let go" came into my mind. I relaxed and felt a clarity I hadn't felt since I don't know when. I laughed at how simple it was. Didn't last, but it was a glimpse into how things can be when you let go of attachments. So simple, which is why it's so difficult, if ya dig.

Looking for jobs hasn't left me encouraged, but it beats not looking. Baby steps. I've been exploring the possibility of working at home part time. That would be nice not having to leave my house and deal with all you fucking assholes. Really, though, I've got to start thinking hard about pursuing actual professions. I'm not a dummy and I need to get paid, son!

What do you think about this blog being a pay site? Great idea, right? A measly ten dollars per post won't bankrupt you. And, as an added bonus, I'll actually start putting some effort into it. Okay, I'm glad you're on board with this. Now I can put food on the table!

Speaking of yoga (I did earlier, way up above in that paragraph you skimmed like it was hot), I've been practicing ying yoga, which looks like the easiest thing in the world, but is most certainly not. Basically, the idea behind it is to hold poses for several minutes in order to flex the connective tissue, which accounts for more of our flexibility than our muscles. I love the challenge of enduring several minutes of physical and mental discomfort (the mind does wander). I tell you, there is no better high than post-yoga high.

Been working on music again. This time I won't be so eager to share any of it with friends unless they ask me or if it's part of a project. Boy, did I learn my lesson last time. Not worth the effort. Ah, but I make music and love doing it. Maybe if I start playing out more, I'll find an audience. I know they're out there.

Watched What Dreams May Come last night. Hadn't seen it in years and it was definitely worth seeing it again. I wonder if I wept openly several times throughout it the first time around, because I most certainly did last night. Good thing no one was around.

Rae has had a guy stay over the last couple of nights. Part of me wonders if this will be a constant thing (I worry more about bathroom/kitchen time than anything else). Another part of me is jealous because she's getting laid and I'm not. The straight truth, folks. Once you recognize it, you can do something about it. Word.

This Penn State scandal is beginning to echo The Franklin Scandal. What is it about people in power and child abuse? Seriously, they go hand in hand. Fucking Satanic.

On that note, I'm going to go immerse myself in the everlasting light of the universe. As you were, comrades.

We're afraid to be alone, everybody got to have a home

My libido was charged today, but I kept it under control. My coworker, Sharon, has an outfit she wears every once in a while that accentuates her divine figure in such a way that my monkey brain turns on and I become driven almost exclusively by primal urges. I arrived at work this morning with the goal of staying present and keeping my third eye in communion with God. I was fairly successful whenever Sharon wasn't around. And near the end of the day, she took over my thoughts. Sorry, God.

The odds of us ever hooking up are slim (Me and Sharon, not me and God. Although, we are all God, so I guess they're one in the same. I digress). She's married and has a couple of grown children. So, right out of the gate it would be adultery, even though my role would be more as an accessory than adulterer, but still. It's serious business, cheating, and can adversely affect people's lives. It would be a sublime pleasure to have sex with Sharon, I'm sure, but I wouldn't want anyone to be hurt as a result. It would work if:

1. She's in an open marriage and is not only allowed, but encouraged to have affairs with pure hearted, erotically-inclined men.

2. Her husband is a real asshole who cheats on her constantly. A revenge affair on her part would be something I'd be more than willing to take part in. "Really, he beds college girls on a weekly basis even though for years and years you've begged him not to? And what's that? As a result of his infidelity, he has nothing left in the tank for you? What a jerk! Man, if only there was a way to get back at him that would not only make you feel better, but me too. "

3. Her husband died or left her.

In other words, this attraction (and I think it may be mutual) may remain unrequited. If only there was a way for me to relieve myself of all this pent up sexual energy. I'll have to give it some serious thought later on in bed.
--
What a sweet and tender song Big Star's Thirteen is. It melts me every time. I would elaborate, but I'm reserving discussion of music for a new blog I've been working on. It's called Giving Aural. Stay tuned.

My commute home was a rainy, messy affair. By the time I walked in the door, my head was throbbing. I debated whether practicing yoga would help or hinder my condition. I opted to give it a shot. Ninety minutes later, I felt as placid as an April pond. Thank you, yoga!

Stopped by Spira's after work yesterday to walk Missy, my beloved Greyhound. When Spira came home, we ate dinner and watched Hamilton's Pharmacopoeia on her laptop. We used Missy as a pillow. Don't worry, she liked it.

I'm off. I will meditate, I will watch an episode of Louis, I will pick up my guitar and play, I will read from a book, I will gaze lovingly upon my visage in the mirror of my choice. Until next time, namaste, readers.

What can a poor boy do except sing for a rock n' roll band

Had a series of dreams last night that involved running into people I knew who were happy, almost overjoyed to see me. In one, I was going up an escalator and saw LW waiting for me at the top with a big smile on his face. My inclination was to walk past him, but he grabbed me by the arm and led me to a Bertucci's in the mall we were in, where there were two plates of pasta waiting for us. He was very happy to see me and whatever ill feelings I felt toward him eased away. I had several questions for him, but he kept talking. I woke up, leaving my former friend in the ether.

In another dream, I showed up at a party and people approached me with such warmth I was suspicious of their intentions. There were a couple of more dreams like that and one that wasn't so good. I think my father was disappointed in me or something. Whatevs. Nice having such pleasant dreams.

Rae is taking care of two dogs this weekend. Kuma is a hulking yellow lab - he must weigh at least eighty pounds - and Chloe, a miniature dachshund, is much smaller in stature. I love them both. Fred's girlfriend, Danielle, is here for the weekend, so it's a full house. This morning, the four of us played with the dogs and laughed at their antics. Fred played the organ and Mike howled along. Good times.

I've been following Humble Brag on Twitter. Whoever runs the page compiles tweets from celebrities and regular people that are brags cloaked in humbleness, hence the name of the page. Some of the tweets are borderline, others are flat out obnoxious. Below are some examples.

"I seriously have no business being a nerd with this body type. Biceps should not noticeably increase in size this quickly" - Dantheshive

"I hate when people tell me, 'You're too pretty for tattoos' …shut up …it's art" - Ashlee Holmes

"Because I have a pretty face does not mean I'm destined to be an ornament my whole life. I want more than that." - Chloe Stagner

"All the muscle I've put on working out over the last year will just be more food for the bear to eat when I'm camping tonight." Rivers Cuomo ( This guy has always seemed like an arrogant piece of shit to me. This tweet (and there are others I've read that are just as obnoxious) will be Exhibit A if he ever goes on trial for his arrogance.

Facebook has its humblebraggers, but thankfully for me, most of my friends don't engage in it much. I do, however, have a one or two that do it fairly regularly. Not as egregious as the examples listed above, though.

Anyway, I've got to finish up this post so I can do other things. Maybe going to a party later, but it kind of sucks when I go to parties; everyone wants my attention and after a while it gets tiring. Oh, well, we all have our burdens.

It's the 5th of November. A good reminder that tyranny must never prosper. Occupy the world!

You're as cold as ice, willing to sacrifice our love

I was having a smooth day yesterday until Jeff informed me I'd be going to Fitchburg today to do some recording. The way my car has been, i.e. old, I tried not to get apprehensive about the long drive. I was largely successful. I made the trip just fine - I'm back now, babysitting Missy the dog at Spira's - but my whiny, fearful, ego made a few appearances. I caught myself every time when I acted unconsciously and I didn't get upset with myself for losing control. Indeed, I applauded myself for catching the behavior. It's going to happen again, I'm sure, but the more I'm conscious of my thoughts and actions, the better off I'll be.

The ego has its uses. I'm appreciative when it alerts me to actual danger or when it reminds me I need to get some groceries else I'll be having a glass of water for supper that night. The ego has run amok, however. Our entire civilization is driven by it. The story of The Garden of Eden describes its hostile take over, our fall from grace. The ego served us well when we were apes drifting through the plains and valleys as both predator and prey. It has grown like a tumor and now almost every single one of us lives either in the past or present, two positionalities that do not exist. Full attention to the present seems easy to achieve, but most of us cannot give it even for a minute.

Just watched a great documentary about a guy who went way off the grid and moved to the outer reaches of northern Alaska called Heimo's Arctic Adventure, or something like that. It was fascinating. He and his wife raised two daughters in the middle of nowhere. A different way of life, to be sure. He even shot a bear during filming that kept creeping around their cabin. Big fucker, t'was!

Just watched a news report about the events that transpired at last night's Occupy Oakland's protest. A guy in a car hits two people and puts them in the hospital. As the paramedics are putting them on stretchers, cops are questioning the guy who hit them. Despite the fact that there were numerous witnesses and the incident was caught on film, the cops let the guy go. Didn't even ask the guy to get out of his car. Hmmm.....

I smell a rat. The cops have been having no trouble arresting protesters for even the slightest transgressions, but when a guy in a car attempts to murder a couple of protesters, he's let go. Either the guy was an agent provocateur and the cops let him go because the guy did exactly what his masters instructed him to do, which was probably along the lines of fucking shit up, or they let him go as a big fuck you to the protesters. I don't care what the victims did to incite the driver, there was no cause for attempted murder. Try telling that to Oakland's finest.

More change is on the way, more disruption. Scary, but thrilling and hopeful. What days we live in. Shit is going to get fucked up pretty bad, I predict, and sooner than later. We've been asleep too long and our owners won't give up power easily.

Who knows, maybe they will if we ask them nicely. I'll look into that.

People still don't have power after last week's snow storm. WTF? I feel for everyone without electricity. What a disruption. I know it was a widespread and intense storm, but why has it taken so long to restore power? Seems commonplace these days for people to have no power for days and days after a storm. We had plenty of big storms when I was growing up, but I don't remember this type of thing happening. Ah, but it's a different world, now, one that brutalizes us with super storms all year round. A Nor'Easter in October? You bet. Climate change is a bitch.

Okay, it's time for some cuddle time with Missy and then a walk a bit later. She is so pretty; I think I'm in love.

He reels around the night club like the hubcaps off of a car

I feel a bit like writing, but I also feel like doing other stuff. As a compromise, I'm going to blaze through this post within ten minutes. Let's get started then.

Okay, first on my mind is the wonderful experience of reading from a book of lectures given by Paramahansa Yogananda. Over and over he stresses the importance of meditation. I'm in full agreement, though I find it a bit daunting his recommendation that we meditate for six hours straight one day a week. There are people who practice an instrument for longer stretches, he reasoned. Yeah, but they weren't embarking on a trip that could potentially shatter their worldview into a thousand shards of light in one timeless, eternal instant. I guess that's the point, daunting and scary as it is, and it's why I might give it a shot. I recall hearing that the Buddha once said that all it took was to hear his message only once and you would spend however lifetimes it took to see it realized.

It's been over ten minutes, so I'm out of here. I guess you could say I worked over time. I think I should treat myself to a pot roast.

Namaste, bitches.

Time has told me you're a rare find, a troubled cure for a troubled mind

It's cold and bleak outside and a Nor'easter is about to batter most of the north east. Well, what else would you expect in the middle of January? Hold on, it's still October? This could be a long, brutal winter. Or not. We shall see.

I've been fascinated and uplifted by the Occupy movement. It seems as if it's too late to squash it, but those in power will continue to try. And when it doesn't go away? Well, stay away from the fan, because it's going to be covered in shit. No matter what, things are coming to a head, whether there's an Occupy movement in place or not. Interesting times, to be sure.

I'm hopeful. Spira and watched some videos by Anonymous last night and each of us got the chills throughout. One video we watched was the one in which they announced the date for the first day of Occupy Wall Street. "We do not forgive, we do not forget. We are coming", the digitized voice behind the Guy Fawkes mask said at the end. And, boy did people come! People everywhere in the world are waking up to oppression. Harmony, which has been stifled for far too long is flowering. Things might get worse before they get better, but I think it's inevitable that they will get better.
-
Been listening to a lot of the Lavender Hour podcast. So good. Ruined me for regular, sanitized radio. Not that I was a huge fan to begin with, but I'm just saying. Actually, I have been listening to the radio in my car quite a bit. Mostly just classic rock. I rarely visit sports radio anymore because it has almost zero relevance in my life and most of the talk radio is awful and spin-heavy. And sometimes, when I can't find any music I like, I pop in a Bieber CD and melt away to his beautiful and often sexy songs. Oh, Justin, will you be mine?

There will by some yoga today; there will be some reading from Buffalo Girls; there may or may not be a viewing of The Mill & The Cross with Janelle (at this stage of the day, it's dubious); there may be some Lavender Hour listening; there will be time devoted to meditation; there may be time devoted to watching the rest of the beautiful The Scent of Green Papayas; there may be the writing of music; there may be some job searching; there may be a surprise guest; there may be the watching of Seven with Spira later on, provided the snow doesn't prove to be a barrier. Or maybe I'll sleep the day away and wait to die.

I have options.

A wolf among wolves and a man among men

Deep in meditation last night I discovered an interesting technique. I had a hair tickling the back of my throat and it was taking all my will not to break into a fit of coughing, which would have not blended well with the quiet state I had entered. Intuitively, I visualized stepping out of my body and then sitting across the room from it. The tickle in my throat was gone or, more, it was still there, only in the body I left behind. Slowly the image of that body dissolved and my new body became my only body. I determined this technique could be effective in a multitude of ways. I may try it again when I meditate tonight. It'll be a neat way to discard whatever negative energy I've got clinging to me. We'll see how it goes.

I just watched Vice Guide To Travel's Liberia episode. It was more frightening than any horror movie I've ever seen. These guys go deep into the bowels of hell, consorting with war Generals, prostitutes, junkies, and cannibals. One area, called West Point, truly embodies hell on earth. There is no plumbing, so the streets are rivers of piss and shit. The beaches are where everyone goes to shit; every square foot is covered with it. I can't believe how far these documentarians were willing to go. Into the belly of the beast.

Time to meditate and maybe finish watching The Scent of Green Papaya. I'll definitely read from Buffalo Girls at some point and who knows, maybe I'll work on music, something I've done surprising little of these last few weeks. I feel the lack.

There's a terror in knowing what this world is about

I've liked this weekend. On Friday, I ended my work day in Lawrence and was able to take advantage of the Market Basket that was near by. I came home, practiced yoga, meditated, watched Andrei Rublev, and other food for the soul type of stuff.

Yesterday upon waking I walked to Davis Square with the intended purpose of visiting the Good Will store and take care of one or two other errands. I ran into Foley and Leesa on my way. They were were with a group about to head down to King Richard's Fair. They asked if I wanted to go, but I had to decline for various reasons. I was very close, however, to going; I love King Richard's Fair (Is there an "e" tacked on to the end of that? I don't know and I'm too lazy to take the few seconds to find out).

I had a vague hope I'd find Howard Zinn's People's History of The United States at Good Will, but I didn't. Instead, I picked up Larry McMurtry's Buffalo Girls. I'd been thinking about McMurtry lately and I'm convinced it was foreordained I found this book. Still, I debated whether to get it. I don't know why I did that. Anyway, I've been enjoying the book quite a bit and all it takes to inject me with joy is to see it resting on the furniture, waiting for me to curl up with it.

Last night, Craig and I went over to Union Square to watch Pat's band play at The Precinct. Good times. Kevin Smith was there, Alie was there, Mike Chiumento was there, I was there, Craig was there, Pat was there, I was there, Ali was there, Mike Chiumento was there, I was there, Kevin Smith was there. A sizable bunch, as you can see. Good times. Kevin and Ali gave me wet willies throughout the night, more than I've ever gotten. I had my revenge here and there, but I think they got the better of me.

Today, I went to my grandmother's house to attend the dual birthday party for my Aunt Maureen and my dad. Nice seeing everyone. After we ate, I spent the rest of my time there chasing around my niece Colleen and my nephew Patrick. At one point, I managed to corner Patrick. He turned coat without a second's thought. "No, Uncle Kevin, I'm on your team now!". I wanted to tell him no one liked or respected a Benedict Arnold, but I didn't want to expend the effort, knowing in my heart of hearts it's his nature to be cowardly and no amount of teaching by me or anyone else will be able to reduce or erase the verity of that fact.

I stopped at Trader Joe's on the way home and picked up a mushroom, cheese, and truffle sauce flatbread. The place was packed but I made it through with an ease I didn't expect.

Over the last several days, I've been re-watching the last season of Parks And Recreation on Netflix. I laughed and laughed and laughed.

Ciao!

I woke up this morning and I got myself a beer, the future's uncertain and the end is always near

What elevates us from our primitive selves is the ability to see beyond the self and recognize the Self. Well, there are other things involved, yes, but I'm just saying.

I'm about to establish a precedent. This post is going to be all over the map. It's the only way I'll make it through.

Prepare thy selves, as we are about to proceed on a twisty, but in the end completely satisfying, ride.

I think of Janelle when I hear and sing these lyrics: Wide eyed walker/Do not wander/Do not wander through the dawn. Not because of the lyrics, but because I have fond memories of singing along to it with her.

Speaking of Fleet Foxes, I've concluded their music sounds the best to me in autumn. By gum, they are a fantastic band, but when the leaves are falling...

Occupy Wall Street is the flowering of humanity. Not just before our eyes, but from within us all. I say that with certainty and don't give a wit whether it comes off sounding pie-in-the-sky. The Apocalypse approaches and not, I don't believe, in the guise of destroyer. Here's the definition of Apocalypse: An Apocalypse (Greek: ἀποκάλυψις apokálypsis</i>; "lifting of the veil" or "revelation") is a disclosure of something hidden from the majority of mankind in an era dominated by falsehood and misconception, i.e. the veil to be lifted.

The veil is lifting. Shadows are shrinking. I am happy to be alive.

I wish I could figure out a way to stop saying "Bless you" every time someone sneezes without hurting their feelings and coming off like an uncaring prick. That little piece of etiquette, like so many others, is just fucking insane. Really, it is. It's right out of the OCD handbook, to begin with. And, I'm sorry, but the whole concept of needing to bless someone when they sneeze should have been left back in the Middle Ages where it belonged.

I think I'll watch the rest of Andrei Rublev tonight. Despite the fact that I've found it to be engaging, I've fallen asleep during it twice already. Is that a paradox? Anyway, I'm thinking about applying a pair of jumper cables to my love cannon when I watch it tonight so I'll stay awake. I'm only thinking about it, mind you.

I had a good time at Tracy and Ray's the other night. It was great being around Faith and James, their young children. I rode in the roller coaster they made out of a cardboard box (The trick was to sit on the edge of couch and slide into the box. Your weight then spills you out onto the floor), and had countless staring matches with Faith (I usually suck at this game, but she always laughed before I did). And during the sublime dinner of Indian dishes, I had the two of them tickling and grabbing me from under the table. I suppose that was karma, because I used to be an under the table terror at family gatherings when I was a wee lad.

I might skip Andrei Rublev and watch The Scent of Green Papaya. Could it happen? I don't know. Why are you asking me? We'll see.

It won't be long before someone steals my ideas about how to capitalize on the Occupy movement. One could make some benjys releasing a single called "Roccupy Wall Street" or releasing a porn movie called "Fuck-upy Doll Street". Or something along those lines. Before you judge me on lack of creativity, know that I'm not looking for cred, I'm looking to GET PAID, son!

And looking to get laid. Just figured I'd throw the line out there. Never know, I may get a nibble.

With that, I will venture off to something terribly fascinating. Mind the store while I'm gone.

I was raised up believing I was somehow unique, like a snowflake distinct among snowflakes, unique in each way you can see

My inner life has taken precedence lately, hence my blog inactivity. It's not that I'm adverse to sharing my experiences, but it hasn't occurred to me to do so. When you tread beyond the ego, beyond linear structures, you have other concerns. If I just sounded pompous, which is not an unreasonable assessment, you can see why I've been mum. It's not easy to express this stuff, but I'll try.

In the midst of my recent car troubles, I stepped up my meditation practice. It helped quite a bit. I've also immersed myself in spiritual books and lectures. I've been reading Dr. David Hawkins "I" and an old favorite, The Tao of Pooh. At night, when I get under the covers, I've been listening to people like Wayne Dyer and Eckhart Tolle speak.

I'm am by no means an avatar at this point, but I have felt a shift in consciousness. I'll leave it at that; my ego would love to describe it to you, but, as profound as some of my experiences have been, I'll be better served remaining quiet on that score. At least in this forum.
--
I ran out of gas the other night and I found myself in a bit of a spiritual crisis. Let me start by noting that I've never run out of gas in my life. I've rolled the dice on more than one occasion, to be sure, but I've always made it to a gas station in time. Sunday night was a different story.

I had just spent the day at Spira's and was on my way home. It was around five o'clock and I had intended to come home much earlier, but I dillied and I dallied. I wanted to get home, eat dinner, and watch The Trip. I live pretty close to Spira; even though I knew I needed gas, I opted to wait until I reached a gas station closer to my house; the one I near Spira's was too expensive for my liking.

I didn't get too far. As I was about to get on the McGrath Highway on-ramp, my car shuddered and quit on me. I managed to pull over safely. I was about to walk back to the gas station I had passed about a quarter of a mile back, but decided it would be quicker if Spira came and got me.

I called her and she showed up about fifteen minutes later. She had stopped at the gas station, hoping she'd be able to surprise me with a canister of gas, but it wasn't meant to be. They didn't have one to lend out. On top of that, Spira almost threw down with an obnoxious woman while she was there.

We drove to another gas station and they didn't have a canister to lend out, either. They suggested we go to Target and buy one there. I'll be honest with you, I thought it was going to be a lot simpler than it was to get gas. Turns out, not many places lend out gas cans like they did in the days when people operated as if they lived in a society (That's changing, though). Spira recommended I call AAA. I did and was told someone would be out shortly.

Shortly amounted to close to an hour. Spira left after I made the call to stop by her art studio. I called my grandmother and found out she was nursing a broken rib. "It's one thing after another", she said, but not in a woe is me kind of way. That should have put matters into perspective for me - temporarily it did - but after I got off the phone with her, some negative energies had a field day with me.

Stewing in my juices, I sat in my car, raving about how the Universe was fucking with me. I frothed over how I was deterred from getting gas earlier in the day by a road race, which incidentally blocked me in to such an extent I had to wait for its completion before I could leave my neighborhood. Yes, the Universe, rather than a benign, loving, force, was really a fucking asshole. I raved like a lunatic. I say "I", but I was nowhere to be found. There were statements like "Every time you have hope or think things are getting better, we're going to fuck you right up the ass, Kevin. That's what we do."

Even in the midst of all this, I was conscious enough to note all this talk of "We". How did things become plural? I took note of this disturbing development but continued to wallow in negativity. Spira came by and brought me some water and chips. She hung out with me until the tow truck came. She helped provide me some perspective and, despite my earlier unconscious behavior, I looked at the situation with clarity.

Things had been piling up lately. Nothing was coming easy, everything a struggle. Running out of gas felt like the straw that broke the camel's back. This is what increased devotion to spiritual practice has gotten me?, I asked myself more than once.

The AAA driver was told I needed a tow and didn't have any gasoline with him. I drove with him to a gas station and then we came back to the car. My battery was dead from my hazards being on for so long, so he had to give me a jump, too.

When all of that was done, I drove home, ranting all the way. By the time I made it into my house, I was spent. It took me two hours to travel a handful of miles. The ranting continued, but died down when I told my ego to shut the fuck up already. I ate and took a hot shower. Under the soothing stream, I burst into tears for about thirty seconds. I needed to vent. Later on, I meditated and cleared a lot of the negative energy away. I felt as light as a feather afterward. Victory!

It carried over into yesterday. I was blissed out almost the entire day. I was like the lillies in the field. I felt like I had overcome something big, though I'm not naive enough to believe the ego has had its last say. No, it's been threatened lately, which is why I think the raving was so over the top, and will not go down lightly. So be it. I know its tricks.

Man, I'm beat. I wanted to riff on the Occupy movement, which continues to move me profoundly, but that will have to be for another post. And so will my sleepover at Tracy and Ray's the other night, which warmed me throughout. Good times.

Namaste.

Sing to the east, sing to the west, sing to the one you love the best

I'm taking comfort where I find it. Right now, it's Deerhoof. Ahh, Deerhoof.....take me away. Another challenging day. Not too long ago, I would have reacted to it less charitably. I would have sulked about how shitty it was and why was everything so hard and why, tell me fucking why, was the Universe against me. I'm not saying today has been a good ol' hoot, but it has been manageable. Life is a school and my most recent class was not gentle with me.

The details? It doesn't matter. Car concerns, empty pockets, ego-manufactured jealousy, frustration, a touch of despair. All there in bloom. But there was also presence, the feather touch of my pineal gland that would pulse throughout the day, understanding, gratitude, understanding, and some humor. I was not without resources.

Though life has handled me like a rubber ball in a room full of puppies these last several days, I've been sleeping like I've not a care in the world. Really, I never have nightmares, and whenever I wake up throughout the night, I always feel kind of blissed out. Does that foretell brighter days? Or does that indicate my only solace is found in sleep? Hmmm....

Whatever. I'll meditate later and hopefully plug my ass directly into the celestial realm. Wish me luck.

My parents have helped me out so much I think, based on that alone, they should be anointed sainthood. Or, you know what, maybe it's just desserts for raising me to be the monster that I am. I'll have to think about this.

Anyway, I love my parents and I'm grateful they've always had my back. I stopped over for dinner last night. We sat and talked before dinner (My mother got all heated up about Occupy Wall Street. She's supports the movement but wants a clear mission statement. I understand where she's coming from, but I see it differently, and tried to express my point of view, which includes the notion that not having a clear mission statement adds to the power of the movement). After dinner, I helped them with some computer stuff (My mother wanted to know why she couldn't add movies to her queue on Netflix. I discovered the problem. She would add a movie and then arrow back to the page she started on to see the changes she made. I told her, "Mom, when you arrow back like that it's as if you're going back in time. Any changes you make will not be seen. Instead of that approach, just select queue from your current position." I'm not sure she caught my meaning, but either way, I was able to successfully add The Lincoln Lawyer to her queue.

Okay, off to experience a hot/cold, hot/cold shower. An immune system boost and fat burner; I'm really digging these soaks.

Peace, my brothers and sisters.

I'll show you around this alphabet town

It's October, but it's been like summer the last few days. Winter will be upon us soon enough; we're relishing this, to be sure. And speaking of relish, I like some on my hot dogs. Just in case you were wondering (When people start hosting trivia nights centered around this blog - and they will (I suspect they already have) - that little tidbit could score you some points. Just saying.

The road to Enlightenment is fraught with snags and distractions and consequently it often feels as if any gains that were made were in vain. David Hawkins likens the experience to taking off in a rocket. It's rocky at first - the pull of gravity doesn't relinquish its subjects easily and that first part of the ride is shaky and perilous. Once you breach the atmosphere, however, it's smooth sailing and you're as light as a feather.

While I've encountered snags and distractions, I've felt a noticeable shift in my consciousness lately, which I'm confident is mostly due to increased meditation and my yoga routine, but I haven't breached the atmosphere quite yet. I've gone places during meditation, lost everything of my self but a gossamer thread, but mostly it's helped me remain present and clear. That has been essential, especially throughout the turbulence of the last several days.

Janelle and Pooch Edward stopped by last night. We walked over to True Grounds for some coffee and then headed over to the park, found a bench, and talked for a while. As always, it was great seeing her. Whenever I do, I always hope that some of her inherent kindness rubs off on me. I think it worked: I woke up this morning feeling kind of lousy about throwing tomatoes at that baby in the stroller (I do not want to get into it, so don't ask). Kind of lousy, but not entirely; that little shit deserved a good ol' fashioned pelting.


My financial woes are at Defcon 4 (Or 5. Whatever the highest one is). There is hope, though, and I will not despair. One favorable development over the last week or so has been increased hours at work. We've been pretty damn busy lately and I'm lapping up every extra bit of work I can get. I need to get paid, son!

I've had my car back for a few days now, but I don't feel confident behind the wheel. Who knows how long it will hold out. I hope for a while because having transportation is kind of a big deal. Ah, things will be fine.

Spira and I watched Hot Tub Time Machine the other day. It was pretty much what I expected it would be. It was rife with dumb jokes, gross out humor (Ok, let me vent a little here. I've noticed an increase in vomiting, pissing, and other bodily excretions in comedies on TV and in movies. Now, I hardly ever watch TV anymore and I rarely watch comedic movies, but it just seems that when I do, I'm subject to a lot of gross and entirely unfunny sight gags. To wit, The Office, in one of it's cold opens last seasons had the entire cast puking. Maybe I'm a sour puss, but I wasn't ROTFL over that. There was a welter of puke and piss and maybe even cum (I can't recall, thankfully) in this Hot Tub movie. I'm not a comedic sophisticate by any means, but I don't see the humor in bodily excretions. Not so much because I get grossed out, but primarily because it's too easy, a short cut to being creative), sex, and at least one collective "Ohhhhhh Shiiiiitttt !!!!" moment in the midst of a dangerous and potentially life-threatening act. There were some laughs here and there and some cool 80's references ( Guess which decade they go back in time to. Seriously, take a wild guess). My grade: C+.

Almost finished reading The Lost City of Z and about halfway through Shakespeare's Henry V, both of which I've been having a great time reading. Regarding the former, I'm probably going to move on to Percy Fawcett's memoirs when I'm through. Fascinating man, he was. Lost forever in the jungle with his son and his son's best friend. Were they killed by an aggressive tribe of Indians? Did they find Z and it's advanced citizenry and decide to never leave it? Or did they starve to death, alone and delirious? I suspect we'll never know.

Been playing a lot of mandolin lately. Can't say I saw this coming. I've had a mandolin for years, but hardly ever played it, mostly because it wouldn't stay in tune and also because I couldn't figure out how to play it. About a month ago, I dug it out of the closet and started noodling around on it. Then I began playing every day. With improvement, my desire to play it increased. I'm not quite proficient yet, but I'm markedly better than I was and, most importantly, it's been a companion through some hairy times. Quite therapeutic, this mandolin o' mine.

Having dinner at the folks house after work tomorrow. And, on Friday, I'll be heading up to Tracy and Ray's for dinner and laughs. In the meantime, I'm of a mind to watch a Woody Allen film. Perhaps it will be Stardust Memories I choose. Or maybe Zelig. Or Alice. Might have to flip a coin. Pray for a favorable outcome, dear readers.

Someday there will be a cure for pain

I left for work today in a good mood. It was a sunny morning and I was looking forward to getting back to work. And, most importantly, I didn't have to worry about my car. New sticker (well, a rejected one, but that's only until I drive a hundred miles and they put the legit one on), which meant I wouldn't have to fold in on myself and weakly utter "Don't see me, don't see me, don't see me..." every time I passed a cop, and mechanical problems fixed. What could go wrong?

Something did go wrong when I got on the highway. In my rear-view mirror I noticed a lot of exhaust being emitted from the back. Could it be something benign, like a build up of moisture that caused this? I called my mechanic and explained the situation. He said he couldn't know for sure what it was until he had the car in front of him. Maybe it was moisture, he said.

I got off the phone with him and it seemed there was less exhaust coming out. Good. What wasn't so good was discovering my temperature gauge was through the roof. Not good, indeed. I was about halfway to work. I pulled off the highway. Once I slowed down, smoke billowed everywhere. I was immersed. Fuck!

I made it to a Mobil station, my dragon's breath arrival noticed by all. I called my mechanic again. "Not moisture, Mel. Something else."

As I tried to explain what was happening, a guy coming out of the store took a special interest in my plight. He looked under the car and asked me to pop my hood. I obliged. He poked around and determined it was probably my heating hose that was the culprit. Seemed he knew a bit about cars. It was tough having two people talking to me at once, but I was grateful for the assistance. "I say either you buy some antifreeze and try to make it to your garage, or you have the car towed. After some careful deliberation, I opted for the latter option. I was going to have to pay - my AAA only covered me for three miles - but I didn't want to white-knuckle my way back to the city, wondering if my engine was going to seize up on me, wondering how far I'd make it.

The tow truck arrived quickly. I had already called Marcy at work and explained what was happening. Another lost day of work. Once my car was hooked up to the tow truck, I hopped in the cab and we made our way to the city.

At the garage, my mechanic looked at the car right away and determined that it was indeed the heating hose that was the culprit. He, and another mechanic, showed me how corroded it was and where the leak was coming from. "Don't worry, we'll get this fixed for you."

"Yeah, but how much am I looking at here?"

"Don't worry about that. It won't be as much as the last time. We'll work everything out. You're a good customer and I want to treat you right."

I appreciated it, but wasn't thrilled I was about to have to shell out more money I don't have. I walked home, stopping at a new book store on Broadway on the way. I talked with the owner for about twenty minutes. I asked him if he needed any help. He said he might. I gave him my number and email address and walked home. We'll see.

Since last Friday, I've been concerned with my car. Today was no different. I'm hoping tomorrow proves to be less of a concern. I suspect it will. Look, shit happens, not everything in life is rosy, but I'm not going to allow myself to wallow in misery. I'm keeping as positive as I can, but I'm not la-la-la-ing through the meadows, either. I'm satisfied my attitude is a healthy one and I'm sticking with it. Who knows what's around the bend. Things happen for a reason. They do, though it's not always apparent when you're in the thick of things.

I meditated this morning and this afternoon. I'll do more later. I also practiced yoga. I'm as centered as I can be given my situation. I very well might be nosediving towards the lowest of the lows, but I'm not going down a fearful, weakened, wretch. Fuck that! The bottom is not for me. I'm aligning myself with higher vibrations, son, and I'm going to get through this.

So how was your day?

All behold the spectacle, a fleshy limbless rectangle

I took my car to my mechanic yesterday and walked home, managing to stay positive and not give in to thoughts of despair. Back at home, I called Janelle. She had called me the day before, but I had not gotten back to her. We spoke for a while and I think the conversation, as is often the case with us, was mutually beneficial. After speaking with her, I felt a contentedness so pervasive I almost forgot about my car. Even when I did think about it, it was with a certainty that no matter the outcome, I'd get through it.

My mechanic called while I was on the phone with Janelle. I called him back. Turned out I needed new sensors, an oil change, and a couple of other things I can't articulate because I'm a neophyte as concerns car repair. A lot of money, but the car is fixed and I'm able to get around. That's the key thing. Everything else will sort itself out.

Everyone I dealt with yesterday, from my boss to my mechanic,was sympathetic to my plight, reassuring, and helpful. I felt such a sense of community that, despite having to shell out a large quantity of money, I was grateful having gone through it. I'm telling you, meditating has been helping manifest this type of experience. Been noticing a shift and I'm quite fond of it.

Another bit of good fortune today: I foiled a robbery. It was around eleven this morning and I was getting ready to walk over to the garage to pick up my car. As I was gathering my effects, I thought I heard someone knocking on the front door. My bedroom door was closed, so I couldn't be sure. I listened closely. I didn't hear anything further. Then I heard a noise that suggested someone was in the house. I wondered if it was Rick coming by to fix the faucet or perhaps it was Rae stopping by for lunch.

I went downstairs. No one was around and I didn't hear any more knocking. As an afterthought, I looked out one of the windows in the living room and saw someone I didn't recognize hanging out on our porch. I watched him for a few minutes. He sat down on one of the chairs and kept looking at his cellphone. He looked to be in his twenties, pretty clean cut, with a back pack. His phone looked to be a smart phone. I wasn't thinking burglar. I was, however, curious to know why he was hanging out on my porch.

I wondered if he was one of Fred's friends. Maybe they were going to meet up for lunch. Maybe he was a relative of Rick and Marie. Whatever his affiliation, my gut told me to stay put until this was resolved. He seemed a bit apprehensive, antsy. He got up and walked over to the window I was peering out of and started to open it.

He didn't see me, probably the only thing he saw was his reflection. The window was already halfway open, so getting in was not going to be much of a problem. The only impediment was me, watching this unfold not two feet away, incredulous. It was time to speak up.

"What are you doing?", I asked. Startled, the perp backed away from the window.

"Oh, hi, I was just knocking on your window - I already tried knocking on your door."

"You didn't knock on the window, you were trying to open it."

"Sir, I wasn't. I was just knocking. Me and my friends are doing some landscaping in the area and I was only coming by to see if you wanted some done."

" You weren't just knocking, though, were you? I was standing here watching you as you started to open the window."

"Sir, I wasn't. Like I said, I had already knocked on the door."

"And you thought if I didn't hear the knocking on the door, I'd hear you knocking on the window? Look, I'm not stupid, I saw what you were doing."

Let me interject at this point my demeanor. Once I became certain of his intent and the more I spoke with him, the more confident I felt. I wasn't terribly worried about my safety because I was inside my house and my ire was up over this guy's attempt at robbing us blind. Those two factors enabled me to control the situation. I had him against the ropes.

"Sir, it's not like that. I was just seeing if you wanted some landscaping done."

"You say you and your friends are working in the area. What street?"

"I can't remember, sir. Around here. Look, I don't want any trouble. I'll leave and never bother you again."

He walked away from the window and made for the street. There was a part of me that was fine with letting it end there. This guy tried to break into my place, I caught him before he could get started, he leaves and never comes back if he's got half a brain. Let's leave it at that. However....

This guy tried to rob us! What if he does this to someone else in the neighborhood? Why wouldn't he? If he's desperate enough to attempt to break into someone's house in broad daylight on a fairly active street, surely he'll do it somewhere else. No, I needed to let the police know.

"I think I'm going to call the police. I think we should let them handle this."

"Sir, you don't have to do that. I'll never come back. I promise. Like I said, I was just looking for work."

"No you weren't. You were going to rob us. I'm going to call the police."

He walked away, all the while pleading with me not to call the police. I didn't. Not right away. First, I knocked on Rick's door and explained to him what just happened. This action proved to kill a few birds with one stone. While I had him in the house, I showed him the leaky faucet we had just implored him to fix and the ceiling we've been after him to fix for ages. I also let him know I was going to be a few days late with rent, which he was very nice about. "Take your time. I know how tough it is for everyone these days."

After Rick left, I called the police. They showed up almost immediately. I gave them a thorough report and they said they were going drive around the area looking for him. They went on their way and I went on mine, to the garage to retrieve my vehicle.

So am I a hero? Well, of course not. I just did what any other person with a pure heart and heroic nature would do. It was an interesting experience, to say the least, and I'm glad everything worked out.

And did it ever. I gotta tell you, things have been lining up favorably lately. If my car hadn't been at the garage today, I would not have been home to stop the robbery. Or what if I had left to go get my car ten or fifteen minutes earlier? Or what if I had had waited to leave another five minutes? The perp would have by then made his way inside the house. Who knows how he would have acted if I surprised him while he was stuffing his backpack with loot. Things worked out well and I'm grateful. Believe it or not, I feel bad for this guy. Obviously, he's going through some tough times. He probably has a family that loves him, that worries over him. I hope, and I'm doubtful here, but I sincerely hope what happened today will scare him straight, or at least forces him to think about the way his life is going.

All in a day's work. There was more I was going to write about, but that will have to be for another time. I'm off to read from The Lost City of Z, which has been a phenomenal read, utterly engrossing.

Alright, time to move forth.

And hidden in the heart of things, you make flowers into edible things

I was in Lowell on Friday waiting for some documents to fund so I could record them at the registry. It was down to the wire, but I was able to get on record before they closed up for the day. It was around four thirty by the time I left. As I drove home, I saw that my engine light was on. That is not good, I thought.

The ride home was a bit tense, especially considering I was caught up in a traffic jam almost immediately after I got on the highway. Will I break down, I wondered? I didn't, but it would have been less of an ordeal if I had been closer to home when this happened. I'll have to have the car looked at tomorrow, which sucks because I'll be missing work. Who knows what the problem is; I'm guessing it has to do with a leak, because I've noticed something has been leaving ominous stains where I park at home. We'll see. I'm flat broke, so this could be very interesting. Are the dominoes lined up? Hope not.

Prior to leaving work for Lowell, I found myself worrying about my car. I was certain something was wrong with it and that I'd encounter some trouble on my drive. My car is old and while it's true that it has been behaving for a long stretch now, it still has its issues. So I'm not claiming I had a premonition, but it's possible. Why not?

As a result of increased meditation and a steady routine of yoga, I've been feeling more centered. That's good, because at this shaky point in my life, I need to feel that way. Also been experiencing synchronicity at least twice a day. Sometimes a lot more. For example, I had just been reading about an effective method of tithing and not fifteen minutes later I entered a conversation that was about that very thing. A lot of this type of thing has been happening.

I finished Hamlet the other day and moved on to Henry V, which I've been finding easier to read. The text seems to be less challenging. Maybe I've just gotten better at decoding some of it. My copy of The Lost City of Z arrived in the mail yesterday. Finally. I was beginning to think it was never going to come. I only paid a few bucks for it, so it wouldn't have been a terrible loss, but I was eager to read it. I'm about fifty pages into it and so far it's effin' awesome. Percy Fawcett was Indiana Jones, man.

Went to Spira's art exhibit last night. Full house and good times. Pat and Allie and Pam were in attendance. We all hung out until the end and then I met Spira at her place where we hung out for a bit. And lavished attention on Missy, the recovering, but always lovely, greyhound. She's been beset by hookworms, poor girl. How dare they?

Watched Another Year last night. So good. Mike Leigh knows how portray real people. And the acting....wow! You should check it out. Or not. Maybe you'd rather just sit in front of the TV watching football all day. Have at it, I say!

Having played and watched sports a good chunk of my life, I can understand how people get wrapped up in watching them. I've reached the point where I no longer have much of an interest. For me, they amount to not much more than a distraction. I can't justify spending hours and hours investing myself in something that, at the end of the day, has little bearing on my life.

I remember once a few years ago I was watching a playoff game between the Patriots and the Colts at a former friend's house. It seemed preordained that the Pats would win, but they didn't. I left my friend's house and felt all knotted up on my walk home. My mood became foul. Then it hit me how silly it was that I should be feeling this way. I didn't lose the game, the Patriots did. I determined then to not get emotionally invested in sports. Sure the highs feel great, but where there are highs there are lows. Not worth the roller coaster ride for me. Watching people's reaction to the epic collapse of the Red Sox this season made me feel happy I wasn't wrapped up in that drama.

Ok, I'm off.

Every night I tell myself, "I am the cosmos"

Man, today has been challenging. All day, my psyche has felt like it's been adrift atop a stormy sea. I've maintained, but it's been rocky. Fuck going into details; I've learned my lesson there. I will say that I attribute all of this to the increased amounts of meditation and yoga I've been engaging in. Shit gets stirred up, bubbles to the surface. Has to happen, but it's not joyous, to be sure. The ego, when threatened, fights for it's life in every conceivable way. It's weapon of choice, at least with me, has been to act out like a pouty baby.

Certainly, the ego has its uses. Some of my dis-ease today had tangible causes that the ego merely pointed out. Ideally, that's as far as it should go, but you and I both know the ego can often exhibit a flair for the dramatic. Meditation and yoga force you to see how destructive that path is.

At lunch, I took care of some unpleasant business and before I could slide into a more negative state, I sat on a bench and meditated, chanting om. After about fifteen minutes of that, I felt more centered and a whole lot better.

The prevailing thought as I walked back to work from lunch was that we mess up, no matter how much we try not to. It's just a fact of life. I can tell myself a hundred times that I won't get aggravated with something or someone, but I will. The key is how you deal with it. For example, if instead of meditating, I walked over to the bar for a stiff drink and some stewing in my problems, I would be in a worse position than I'm in now. Of course I would. Or what if, instead of practicing yoga after work, I instead plopped down in front of the TV and watched some soul-eating drivel? What if I opted for a large steak and cheese sub instead of making a salad?

Choices.

Ok, I've said enough. Today has been challenging, yes, but I've met the challenges as best I could. I still feel a little off, but I'm rolling with it. I'm trying not to be disappointed in some friends, trying not to see them in a poor light. I'm trying to see beyond myself, to a higher purpose, away from insanity and things unhealthy. I'm trying not to see the world around me as corrupt and dying (though it kind of is, but there is always hope)). I'm trying.

And actually doing a fair job at it, thank you very much. I'm getting there. Soon, I'll be superior to you in every way. And it will be then that I enact your destruction!

With that, good night.