I have a vague remembrance of an early morning dream. In the woods behind my childhood home, a place I visit frequently while I sleep, I found myself by a sun-dappled pond, clearer and larger than the actual one. And more vibrant and alive.There were people along the shore, vague outlines of familiarity. I looked up the slight incline towards the house and then made my way along an inviting path away from it into the woods. That's all I remember.
Those woods and the journeys I take within them are spiritual. I've never had a bad experience in those dreams, only feelings of ease and happy expectation of where my journey will take me. They say when you have dreams that involve bodies of water, you are dreaming of God. I don't remember much from this last dream, but I'll never forget that pond and how it glistened.
I'll tell ya, reading Carl Sagan's Cosmos alongside A Course In Miracles, not to mention a steady diet of yoga and meditation, has done a number on my mind. Not unmanageable, not even undesirable. Feeling the tickle of peace, a barely detectable invisible blanket draping over me. I'm still prone to my usual ego pandering, but there's something new in play that is softening it. With that said, I shouldn't rule out my new hobby, shooting up excessive amounts of heroin, as the cause of this burgeoning peaceful feeling.
--
I finally saw Lana Del Ray's train-wreck SNL performance. After a solid week or so of hearing how awful it was, I was ready for some mediocrity. What I got instead was a decent performance of a decent song. Hardly worthy of all the battering abuse. I felt bad for her even before I heard a note. Artists need thicker skins these days; the immediacy and anonymity of the Internet brings out the rabble, critics all. Earlier today, I read that Lana Del Ray thought she looked great and her performance was fine. Despite not knowing who she was two weeks ago, it felt really good reading that.
I think a shower is in order. Not sure if I'll get around to watching an episode of Downton Abbey (haven't been itching to watch it lately), but I will engage in the three "ates", which is to say I will create, meditate, and.....well, I'm sure you can figure out the last one.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Sunday, January 29, 2012
You walk down Alameda, looking at the cracks in the sidewalk, thinking about your friends, how you maintain all them in a constant state of suspence
Another mild day weather-wise. So far this winter has been the exact opposite of last year's. We deserve it, I say. Earlier, I walked to the store wearing a t-shirt and a light jacket. Felt like late March. Holla!
Hung out with Kevin, his little girl Bella, and Spira last night. And, of course, Missy D was in attendance, twelve percent cuter than the last time I laid eyes on her. We had a good time. Near the end of the night, Bella told us a story entitled "She Lives With Me". It started off strong: Bella and Missy were hanging out and then something happened that involved Missy "powering up". Bella paused a moment and decided she could more clearly explain what happened next by conveying it in a picture. After sequestering herself with pen and paper for a few minutes, she presented us with the picture, which depicted her and Missy on the surface of what I assumed was the moon gazing at the earth. "Is that the moon you're on", I asked. "No", Bella replied, "It's called Bella's World. Bella and Missy's world."
And that was pretty much the end of the story. Kevin and Bella left soon after. Though the story was lacking a key ingredient, namely a plot, I was sold. Later on, driving home listening to Fairport Convention, I thought about purchasing the rights to "She Lives With Me" from Bella and turning it into a movie script. I've had worse ideas.
I'm listening to an artist named Teebs as I type. If you enjoy electronic music that snaps, crackles, and pops like hazy childhood summers, then I suggest you check it out. Serves as a great elixir for the winter doldrums.
Books I've been reading: 1. A Course In Miracles 2. Jordan's The Shadow Rising 3. The Tao of Pooh (A bathroom read) 4. Patti Smith's Just Kids (Love her writing style. My boss, Jeff, let me borrow it.) 5. Kurzweil's The Singularity Is Near 6. Sagan's Cosmos (Arrived in the mail yesterday in pristine condition. I paid only a few dollars for it and expected it to be rather worn. I've been knee deep in it. Safe to say it's blowing my mind). I used to read one book at a time, but over the last several years I've modified my habits. Makes sense to me, bouncing between books. I do it with music, TV shows, and movies.
Maybe a shower is in order. Perhaps a lit candle along with some music to accompany it. Sounds like a plan. I always enjoy a good soak.
Auf Wiedersehen, bitches!
Hung out with Kevin, his little girl Bella, and Spira last night. And, of course, Missy D was in attendance, twelve percent cuter than the last time I laid eyes on her. We had a good time. Near the end of the night, Bella told us a story entitled "She Lives With Me". It started off strong: Bella and Missy were hanging out and then something happened that involved Missy "powering up". Bella paused a moment and decided she could more clearly explain what happened next by conveying it in a picture. After sequestering herself with pen and paper for a few minutes, she presented us with the picture, which depicted her and Missy on the surface of what I assumed was the moon gazing at the earth. "Is that the moon you're on", I asked. "No", Bella replied, "It's called Bella's World. Bella and Missy's world."
And that was pretty much the end of the story. Kevin and Bella left soon after. Though the story was lacking a key ingredient, namely a plot, I was sold. Later on, driving home listening to Fairport Convention, I thought about purchasing the rights to "She Lives With Me" from Bella and turning it into a movie script. I've had worse ideas.
I'm listening to an artist named Teebs as I type. If you enjoy electronic music that snaps, crackles, and pops like hazy childhood summers, then I suggest you check it out. Serves as a great elixir for the winter doldrums.
Books I've been reading: 1. A Course In Miracles 2. Jordan's The Shadow Rising 3. The Tao of Pooh (A bathroom read) 4. Patti Smith's Just Kids (Love her writing style. My boss, Jeff, let me borrow it.) 5. Kurzweil's The Singularity Is Near 6. Sagan's Cosmos (Arrived in the mail yesterday in pristine condition. I paid only a few dollars for it and expected it to be rather worn. I've been knee deep in it. Safe to say it's blowing my mind). I used to read one book at a time, but over the last several years I've modified my habits. Makes sense to me, bouncing between books. I do it with music, TV shows, and movies.
Maybe a shower is in order. Perhaps a lit candle along with some music to accompany it. Sounds like a plan. I always enjoy a good soak.
Auf Wiedersehen, bitches!
Monday, January 23, 2012
Knocking me out with those American thighs
I read a great tweet from Natasha Leggero the other night. I'm paraphrasing slightly, but here is the gist of the question she posed: "Isn't worrying just wishing for bad things to happen?" On the surface, it might appear she wasn't being serious, but I gave it some thought and determined that the question is an important and valid one. And I determined that the answer to it is an affirmative yes.
Wishes, when you think about it, are seeds planted by thought. Some may become manifest, others may prove barren (usually the lofty ones, like wishing for a sack of money to materialize in your lap). Look at the state of your life, the things you own and the friends you keep. Everything the result of thoughts put into action.
It makes sense, then, to favor thoughts that are positive. When you're focusing on the problem, you have little hope of finding the solution. Worrying speaks to a worldview of scarcity and lack, of danger and fear. As within, without. Your every day life is a reflection of your mode of thought. In that sense, worrying is wishing for bad things to happen. And when put that way, it illustrates how important it is to monitor our thoughts. Wayne Dyer says "When you change how you look at something, what you look at changes. " I think he's right, though it can be a tricky thing to put into practice.
--
Just watched Guy Maddin's My Winnipeg last night. I've seen it before, but it really hit me this time. He combined everything that was special about his previous films and created a masterpiece. So inventive, imaginative, hallucinatory. His films are gauzy, humorous, dreams. There's no one quite like him.
Okay, I'm off to watch the latest episode of Downton Abbey. And then maybe some Saxondale, which I've been re-watching because it makes me feel good inside.
Wishes, when you think about it, are seeds planted by thought. Some may become manifest, others may prove barren (usually the lofty ones, like wishing for a sack of money to materialize in your lap). Look at the state of your life, the things you own and the friends you keep. Everything the result of thoughts put into action.
It makes sense, then, to favor thoughts that are positive. When you're focusing on the problem, you have little hope of finding the solution. Worrying speaks to a worldview of scarcity and lack, of danger and fear. As within, without. Your every day life is a reflection of your mode of thought. In that sense, worrying is wishing for bad things to happen. And when put that way, it illustrates how important it is to monitor our thoughts. Wayne Dyer says "When you change how you look at something, what you look at changes. " I think he's right, though it can be a tricky thing to put into practice.
--
Just watched Guy Maddin's My Winnipeg last night. I've seen it before, but it really hit me this time. He combined everything that was special about his previous films and created a masterpiece. So inventive, imaginative, hallucinatory. His films are gauzy, humorous, dreams. There's no one quite like him.
Okay, I'm off to watch the latest episode of Downton Abbey. And then maybe some Saxondale, which I've been re-watching because it makes me feel good inside.
Friday, January 20, 2012
Be my brother, there is another way out of here
It's late and I'm listening to the heavy Brian Wilson vibes spilling forth from The High Lamas epic Hawaii. Earlier, Spira and I watched Zodiac, one of my faves. It was fun watching it with her; she was engaged throughout. On my way to her place, I stopped at McDonald's and picked us up a couple of filet-o-fish and some fries. I haven't had McDonald's in years, but we had been talking about the glory of the filet-o-fish the other night and it was an inevitability we'd be face to face with a couple. It was sublime.
iTunes on shuffle. First the High Lamas, then Bonnie Prince Billy's haunting, countrified version of No More Workhorse Blues, now Fiona Apple singing Sullen Girl. So far, so good, I do declare.
I'm going to stay up late, probably until the wee hours of the morning. I will sleep late or I won't, but one thing is for certain: I will awake naturally, on my own volition. No offensive bleating from my alarm, which I know is only doing its job when it shocks me from the bliss of slumber, but still, what kind of asshole gets into that line of work anyway? Tomorrow, I plan on working on a lot of music. I have a new song that started out a pretty, shimmery waltz and has grown into something more complex and epic. It coos for attention.
After Fiona Apple, Caetano Veloso. Something from Ce. And now we have Rufus singing Natasha. I haven't listened to Want One in a while. Aw, fuck it - it's time for a marathon.
I dream of being able to create art full time. What bliss it would be! Maybe I can make it happen. I need a benefactor. I'm going to peruse Great Expectations for ideas. Wish me luck.
Now we've got Captain Beefheart's Grow Fins. The Spotlight Kid /Clear Spot are such good records. Big, fat grooves throughout. If you like music, you should listen to these albums every day for the next seven months. I said.
Fantomas follows the Captain with their cover of Experiment In Terror. A good time for me to make my exit.
Live long and prosper, you thieving, self-involved miscreants.
iTunes on shuffle. First the High Lamas, then Bonnie Prince Billy's haunting, countrified version of No More Workhorse Blues, now Fiona Apple singing Sullen Girl. So far, so good, I do declare.
I'm going to stay up late, probably until the wee hours of the morning. I will sleep late or I won't, but one thing is for certain: I will awake naturally, on my own volition. No offensive bleating from my alarm, which I know is only doing its job when it shocks me from the bliss of slumber, but still, what kind of asshole gets into that line of work anyway? Tomorrow, I plan on working on a lot of music. I have a new song that started out a pretty, shimmery waltz and has grown into something more complex and epic. It coos for attention.
After Fiona Apple, Caetano Veloso. Something from Ce. And now we have Rufus singing Natasha. I haven't listened to Want One in a while. Aw, fuck it - it's time for a marathon.
I dream of being able to create art full time. What bliss it would be! Maybe I can make it happen. I need a benefactor. I'm going to peruse Great Expectations for ideas. Wish me luck.
Now we've got Captain Beefheart's Grow Fins. The Spotlight Kid /Clear Spot are such good records. Big, fat grooves throughout. If you like music, you should listen to these albums every day for the next seven months. I said.
Fantomas follows the Captain with their cover of Experiment In Terror. A good time for me to make my exit.
Live long and prosper, you thieving, self-involved miscreants.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Come all, ye roving minstrels
I'm of a mind to talk about pot, strange sounds, yoga, and the lessening of the ego's control over one's self. Let's get started, children.
Pot. I'm not going to launch into a diatribe about it, but it confounds me that it's still illegal. It's a plant with a panoply of benefits, ranging from medicinal to practical. There is not one reason why it should be illegal or even regulated. The most often used argument I've heard in favor of keeping it illegal is that it's a gateway drug. The irony here is that it's a gateway drug primarily because people who buy it have to buy it from drug dealers, who generally sell other drugs and, if they're any good at their job, will try to sell them. Anyway, it's absolutely absurd that it's illegal. We live in an absurd society, so it's not terribly surprising. George Washington, Carl Sagan, Steve Jobs, among other notable humans, smoked pot. They seemed to function pretty well. Okay, let's move on to....
Strange sounds. I haven't investigated it too much, but it seems there have been the same or similar types of sounds seemingly transmitted from the sky all around the world. I say seemingly because there hasn't been a physical source, say a helicopter, to attribute the sounds to. The video below was my introduction to this phenomena.
I'd love to entertain the idea that there's something supernatural going on, but who's to say. Could be some excavating going on a few miles away. Could be some hi-tech-utra-secret military craft, blazing through the skies with a cloak of invisibility. Or maybe it's the Illuminati dosing us with some audio hypnosis with the aim of turning us into sheep, even though most of us already are. Or maybe it's the Cryptoterrestials! Even though the truth is probably something boring and typical, I'm going with the supernatural idea. It's what Mulder would have wanted.
Last night, at the end of my yoga session, I attempted a head stand. The result? Perfect execution! I held it for about fifteen seconds, returned to my feet, and did it again a couple of minutes later. Last night wasn't the first time I was successful with the pose; the session a couple of days prior was when I nailed it. Guess who did a fist pump afterward? I had been working on that pose for about a month. I was patient with myself and knew I'd nail it eventually. I feel like giving it a try right now.
Spira and I got into a heated argument the other night. First one in a long while. I left her place in a huff and proceeded to rehash the argument over and over in my head, inserting new points here and there, but mostly just replaying everything. When I got home, I tried to settle my thoughts, but they were still racing. I wondered if Spira and I were going to be on the outs for a while. That bothered me more than the argument, which really wasn't that severe. What bothered me most of all was my ego asserting itself in that frantic, insane way it has. I kept telling myself to let it drop, that if I didn't I was going to be miserable. Time to put my spiritual practice into effect. I wrote an email to Spira and let her know I was throwing in the towel. I told her how much I love her and how integral she is to my life. Being on the outs with someone you're very close to is never going to be fun, so why prolong reconciliation? With that in mind, I was able to sneak around the ego towards resolution and harmony.
Even after sending off the email, my mind still replayed the argument. I did my best to quell the barrage, which admittedly had lessened, but I wasn't very successful. I woke up at five the next morning thinking about the situation. "This is not real, let it go", the clear part of my mind said. I did, and fell back asleep. Later on at work I was still thinking about the argument here and there. It was a nuisance, dealing with these thoughts, but it was also a great illustration of how the ego (dis)functions. I was able to remove myself from it and observe it's behavior. A good lesson. Spira called me later that night and from hello onward, there was only harmony. I like outcomes like that.
And here's something you're going to like: I'm ending this post. I'm off to watch some Downton Abbey, which I've been hooked on, and then I may work on some music. Got a couple of songs that have been playing in my head unbidden; they need my attention. At some point I'd like to do some reading. Might continue with my Wheel of Time re-read or maybe it'll be The Singularity Is Near that gets my attention. Most assuredly, I'll read a bit from A Course In Miracles. There's an interview with Scott Nelson, a linguistics expert, I'd like to listen to. He's been analyzing purported Sasquatch vocalizations that have been caught on tape. Other than that, I may just sit in front of the computer looking at porn and skeet, skeet, skeeting. Don't knock it, it can be very therapeutic.
Pot. I'm not going to launch into a diatribe about it, but it confounds me that it's still illegal. It's a plant with a panoply of benefits, ranging from medicinal to practical. There is not one reason why it should be illegal or even regulated. The most often used argument I've heard in favor of keeping it illegal is that it's a gateway drug. The irony here is that it's a gateway drug primarily because people who buy it have to buy it from drug dealers, who generally sell other drugs and, if they're any good at their job, will try to sell them. Anyway, it's absolutely absurd that it's illegal. We live in an absurd society, so it's not terribly surprising. George Washington, Carl Sagan, Steve Jobs, among other notable humans, smoked pot. They seemed to function pretty well. Okay, let's move on to....
Strange sounds. I haven't investigated it too much, but it seems there have been the same or similar types of sounds seemingly transmitted from the sky all around the world. I say seemingly because there hasn't been a physical source, say a helicopter, to attribute the sounds to. The video below was my introduction to this phenomena.
I'd love to entertain the idea that there's something supernatural going on, but who's to say. Could be some excavating going on a few miles away. Could be some hi-tech-utra-secret military craft, blazing through the skies with a cloak of invisibility. Or maybe it's the Illuminati dosing us with some audio hypnosis with the aim of turning us into sheep, even though most of us already are. Or maybe it's the Cryptoterrestials! Even though the truth is probably something boring and typical, I'm going with the supernatural idea. It's what Mulder would have wanted.
Last night, at the end of my yoga session, I attempted a head stand. The result? Perfect execution! I held it for about fifteen seconds, returned to my feet, and did it again a couple of minutes later. Last night wasn't the first time I was successful with the pose; the session a couple of days prior was when I nailed it. Guess who did a fist pump afterward? I had been working on that pose for about a month. I was patient with myself and knew I'd nail it eventually. I feel like giving it a try right now.
Spira and I got into a heated argument the other night. First one in a long while. I left her place in a huff and proceeded to rehash the argument over and over in my head, inserting new points here and there, but mostly just replaying everything. When I got home, I tried to settle my thoughts, but they were still racing. I wondered if Spira and I were going to be on the outs for a while. That bothered me more than the argument, which really wasn't that severe. What bothered me most of all was my ego asserting itself in that frantic, insane way it has. I kept telling myself to let it drop, that if I didn't I was going to be miserable. Time to put my spiritual practice into effect. I wrote an email to Spira and let her know I was throwing in the towel. I told her how much I love her and how integral she is to my life. Being on the outs with someone you're very close to is never going to be fun, so why prolong reconciliation? With that in mind, I was able to sneak around the ego towards resolution and harmony.
Even after sending off the email, my mind still replayed the argument. I did my best to quell the barrage, which admittedly had lessened, but I wasn't very successful. I woke up at five the next morning thinking about the situation. "This is not real, let it go", the clear part of my mind said. I did, and fell back asleep. Later on at work I was still thinking about the argument here and there. It was a nuisance, dealing with these thoughts, but it was also a great illustration of how the ego (dis)functions. I was able to remove myself from it and observe it's behavior. A good lesson. Spira called me later that night and from hello onward, there was only harmony. I like outcomes like that.
And here's something you're going to like: I'm ending this post. I'm off to watch some Downton Abbey, which I've been hooked on, and then I may work on some music. Got a couple of songs that have been playing in my head unbidden; they need my attention. At some point I'd like to do some reading. Might continue with my Wheel of Time re-read or maybe it'll be The Singularity Is Near that gets my attention. Most assuredly, I'll read a bit from A Course In Miracles. There's an interview with Scott Nelson, a linguistics expert, I'd like to listen to. He's been analyzing purported Sasquatch vocalizations that have been caught on tape. Other than that, I may just sit in front of the computer looking at porn and skeet, skeet, skeeting. Don't knock it, it can be very therapeutic.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
I'm all out of love, I'm so lost without you
I'm waiting for rice to cook. I don't get why it either takes a minute or forty five minutes. What's with the gap? Maybe it's a metaphor for our current cultural climate (say that ten times fast). I will have to ponder that, but will leave it for another time. Oh, and in case you're wondering, I'm going to add tofu, spinach, and corn to the rice. There may be some feta cheese, marinated red pepper added to to the mix. Perhaps some pork, despite the crummy tummy* it gave me.
I discovered Downton Abbey the other night. The show, not the place (which doesn't even exist, I've read). I've watched two episodes and am enjoying it thoroughly. Why? Because so far A) It's telling a great story in masterful way B) The acting is well above average and C) The historical context is fascinating (1912, I believe). As I watch, visions of Mad Men and Deadwood crop up. Still early to tell, but the signs are pointing to greatness.
Speaking of greatness, I watched Chop Shop the other night. You can read about it here. It's streaming on Netflix.
A rainy day with a little snow mixed in. The middle of January and still no significant snowfall. I know it's coming, but I'm happy with the way things have been going so far. We deserve it after the unrelenting and often brutal snow storms we had last year.
Ok, I'm out of here. By the way, I've already eaten dinner. It was delicious. I sauteed some onions, sweet potato, tofu, spinach, and sliced oil-cured olives. I added that to some rice, sprinkled some feta cheese on top and then commenced to eating. So tasty. I bet you want some.
Heard the new Van Halen song yesterday. Tattoo, I believe it's called. It's ok, but I didn't expect something equal to "Somebody Get Me A Doctor" or "Mean Streets". I say I heard the song, but what really happened was I watched the video. I confess to laughing throughout it but not because of the song. I imagined I was watching a new band. Could this band of old men and a boy barely out of high school achieve mainstream popularity. No fucking way. The song is too weak and people like their rock stars to be young. I think I would be a fan, though, if for no other reason because of the strange dynamics. Anyway, I used to be a huge fan of Van Halen when I was growing up, but I don't really care much about what they're up to these days.
But I do care about what you're up to. Tell me everything, including the secrets you've kept hidden away. I will release you from that burden. Ah, you won't tell me nuttin'.
Whatever. I'm out this piece.
I discovered Downton Abbey the other night. The show, not the place (which doesn't even exist, I've read). I've watched two episodes and am enjoying it thoroughly. Why? Because so far A) It's telling a great story in masterful way B) The acting is well above average and C) The historical context is fascinating (1912, I believe). As I watch, visions of Mad Men and Deadwood crop up. Still early to tell, but the signs are pointing to greatness.
Speaking of greatness, I watched Chop Shop the other night. You can read about it here. It's streaming on Netflix.
A rainy day with a little snow mixed in. The middle of January and still no significant snowfall. I know it's coming, but I'm happy with the way things have been going so far. We deserve it after the unrelenting and often brutal snow storms we had last year.
Ok, I'm out of here. By the way, I've already eaten dinner. It was delicious. I sauteed some onions, sweet potato, tofu, spinach, and sliced oil-cured olives. I added that to some rice, sprinkled some feta cheese on top and then commenced to eating. So tasty. I bet you want some.
Heard the new Van Halen song yesterday. Tattoo, I believe it's called. It's ok, but I didn't expect something equal to "Somebody Get Me A Doctor" or "Mean Streets". I say I heard the song, but what really happened was I watched the video. I confess to laughing throughout it but not because of the song. I imagined I was watching a new band. Could this band of old men and a boy barely out of high school achieve mainstream popularity. No fucking way. The song is too weak and people like their rock stars to be young. I think I would be a fan, though, if for no other reason because of the strange dynamics. Anyway, I used to be a huge fan of Van Halen when I was growing up, but I don't really care much about what they're up to these days.
But I do care about what you're up to. Tell me everything, including the secrets you've kept hidden away. I will release you from that burden. Ah, you won't tell me nuttin'.
Whatever. I'm out this piece.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Bigger than big, that's how it started
Man, I got a tummy ache, or rot gut as a former coworker of mine used to call it. The culprit: pork. Yes, I ate a piece of pork, not a big one at all, and I'm paying for it. Note to self: stay from pork. Note to self post script: Stay away from meat as much as possible because it's been giving you trouble. Duly noted.
I need to watch more lesbian porn. I watched some last night and was reminded how by-the- numbers and rigid (no pun intended) straight porn can be. In the scene I watched, the women kissed for about ten minutes straight. This hardly ever happens in straight porn, which is too bad. I found out my least favorite lesbian scenes tend to be the ones where they fuck each other with strap-on dildos. While this isn't unappealing, I find I like it most when the women are being women with each other. I don't want to see a cock anywhere near what they're doing. And thus concludes my thoughts on porn for the evening.
Oh, man, there's this song I've been working on that I feel compelled to go work on. I'm going to hold off, though. I need to see things to their completion. And besides, I've been meaning to get something off my chest. Something substantial and most likely better off unshared. Ah, I'll just come out with and stop beating around the bush. Some people are going to want to kill me for the slanderous position I'm about to put them in. Here goes.....
Fuck it, I'm off to work on music.
I need to watch more lesbian porn. I watched some last night and was reminded how by-the- numbers and rigid (no pun intended) straight porn can be. In the scene I watched, the women kissed for about ten minutes straight. This hardly ever happens in straight porn, which is too bad. I found out my least favorite lesbian scenes tend to be the ones where they fuck each other with strap-on dildos. While this isn't unappealing, I find I like it most when the women are being women with each other. I don't want to see a cock anywhere near what they're doing. And thus concludes my thoughts on porn for the evening.
Oh, man, there's this song I've been working on that I feel compelled to go work on. I'm going to hold off, though. I need to see things to their completion. And besides, I've been meaning to get something off my chest. Something substantial and most likely better off unshared. Ah, I'll just come out with and stop beating around the bush. Some people are going to want to kill me for the slanderous position I'm about to put them in. Here goes.....
Fuck it, I'm off to work on music.
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Fuck the slice, I want the pie
Just read an article about how dangerous practicing yoga can be. Certain poses, it claimed, even when performed by seasoned practitioners, can have deleterious effects. An upsurge in spinal, neck, hip, and back injuries have risen over the years. More alarming, strokes have been attributed to yoga.
Having felt the benefits of yoga, it was difficult not to read the article with a defensive approach. The upsurge in yoga-related injuries is concerning, to be sure, but when you take into account the fact that more and more people are practicing these days, it makes sense there would be reports of more injuries. The article stressed that the cause of many of these injuries is ego-driven. In other words, there is more emphasis of forcing a pose, trying to get it right immediately, rather than employing patience and letting the pose happen naturally over time.
I've been practicing yoga for several years now and I still find myself occasionally giving the ego the reigns. When this happens, my main concern becomes pushing myself through the poses in an impatient manner. In this state, I'm not present; I'm thinking two or three positions ahead or what I'm going to have for dinner. If there's ever a risk of injuring myself, it is then. Makes sense. Whenever I've cut myself while chopping vegetables, it's because I wasn't present.
The article seemed a little too dramatic. Not that many yoga-related injuries have been reported compared to how many people are practicing. A fraction. There are probably more jogging-related injuries out there. Look, you've got to be careful when practicing yoga, especially when you get into the more difficult postures. Serious attention and respect must be paid to what you're doing. And patience. Yesterday, I held a headstand for about four seconds. I was elated. I've been working on that pose for a month, but four seconds was huge. Patience.
--
I walked over to PJ Ryan's the other night to see Foley's band play. When I arrived, I found out they were going on at eleven rather than nine, the time they were scheduled to perform. Already feeling under the weather, I told Foley I wasn't going to see him play. I did hang out for a bit, though, mostly with Meredith, one of Foley's friends. She explained the entire Twilight saga to me, per my request and with the caveat that she wasn't really into it. Still, she did an admirable job at conveying the important plot points. Now I know about Edward and Bella, the shaky vampire/werewolf alliance, and the angst. All that angst. Meredith and I also talked about the greatest show that's ever been filmed, Deadwood, and British comedies. Good times.
Alright, I'm out of here. The day needs my attention.
Having felt the benefits of yoga, it was difficult not to read the article with a defensive approach. The upsurge in yoga-related injuries is concerning, to be sure, but when you take into account the fact that more and more people are practicing these days, it makes sense there would be reports of more injuries. The article stressed that the cause of many of these injuries is ego-driven. In other words, there is more emphasis of forcing a pose, trying to get it right immediately, rather than employing patience and letting the pose happen naturally over time.
I've been practicing yoga for several years now and I still find myself occasionally giving the ego the reigns. When this happens, my main concern becomes pushing myself through the poses in an impatient manner. In this state, I'm not present; I'm thinking two or three positions ahead or what I'm going to have for dinner. If there's ever a risk of injuring myself, it is then. Makes sense. Whenever I've cut myself while chopping vegetables, it's because I wasn't present.
The article seemed a little too dramatic. Not that many yoga-related injuries have been reported compared to how many people are practicing. A fraction. There are probably more jogging-related injuries out there. Look, you've got to be careful when practicing yoga, especially when you get into the more difficult postures. Serious attention and respect must be paid to what you're doing. And patience. Yesterday, I held a headstand for about four seconds. I was elated. I've been working on that pose for a month, but four seconds was huge. Patience.
--
I walked over to PJ Ryan's the other night to see Foley's band play. When I arrived, I found out they were going on at eleven rather than nine, the time they were scheduled to perform. Already feeling under the weather, I told Foley I wasn't going to see him play. I did hang out for a bit, though, mostly with Meredith, one of Foley's friends. She explained the entire Twilight saga to me, per my request and with the caveat that she wasn't really into it. Still, she did an admirable job at conveying the important plot points. Now I know about Edward and Bella, the shaky vampire/werewolf alliance, and the angst. All that angst. Meredith and I also talked about the greatest show that's ever been filmed, Deadwood, and British comedies. Good times.
Alright, I'm out of here. The day needs my attention.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
All I have is my love of love, and love is not loving
Let's talk about anything other than car issues, financial concerns, the pending collapse of the American empire. In other words, we're going to shine a light of pure love, shot directly and unfiltered from the heavens, onto this post. Are you ready? I can't hear you. ARE YOU READY? Good, we shall proceed.
So, anyway, I was just watching an interview with Chris Hedges from C-Span entitled "Brace Yourself! The American Empire Is Over And The Descent Is Going To Be Horrifying." I got about five minutes into it and decided to deploy my attention elsewhere. Not because of Hedges - I believe he's spot on, sadly - but because I've had enough doom and gloom lately. Anyway, I've already touched on a topic I claimed I was going to stay away from in the opening paragraph. Focus, Kevin.
I'm listening to the band Girls as I type. So far I'm really digging them. It's an interesting hodgepodge of classic rock structures. I hear old King Crimson, The Beach Boys, Black Sabbath, Jethro Tull (there is flute), The Beatles, Led Zeppelin, Big Star. I have to admit, I expected something different from a band named Girls.
Last night I was listening back to a playback of a new song, trying to determine which direction I should take vocally. I had laid down a rough track a couple of nights ago and, at the time, I didn't feel it was sufficient. When I listened to it last night I determined that the take was indeed sufficient. The song is just about done now. I'll revisit it again tonight to see if I indeed want to keep the vocals as is.
Been listening to a great podcast on Bigfoot called The Bigfoot Show. Really well done. The hosts are experts in the field (I won't bother naming them because it's likely you won't know who they are), astute, and approach the subject with a healthy degree of skepticism. Man, I love a good podcast.
I've also discovered that The X-Files has been streaming on Netflix. The entire series. It may take me a while to get through it all. There's like twenty episodes per season. Oh, and I also discovered Star Trek: The Next Generation is streaming, too. I watched the pilot episode the other night. I know things change as the show gets comfortable with itself; I'm really hoping one of those changes is toning down the blaring dramatic horns that pepper the first episode. Go gentle with the music, dear Star Trek. You're dramatic enough. Anyway, if you haven't figured out I'm a bit of a geek by now, you've been skimming this blog way too much. One more thing about Star Trek: I never got into the original series; the only one I paid much attention to was Next Generation. I prefer it because it's like, you know, cerebral and shit. And the fact that it features Dr. Crusher and Deanna Troi doesn't hurt. Know what I'm sayin'? Sure you do.
It's fucking freezing tonight. Winter is a drag and there's no way you can convince me otherwise. Still, it's not so bad. You just have to take a Zen approach to it. It's not the season itself that's bad, it's our perception that makes it so. Like that? Pretty profound, I know. A product of having a heart as pure and gentle as a mother's kiss.
I just realized that the year came and went and I didn't post any year end awards. What the fuck is the matter with me? I'm sure this omission has created a vortex of despair in your lives. I will try to remedy that by......posting some awards right the fuck now, son!!!!
Roommate I Wish Was Still My Roommate award
I should have made that plural because it's not just Janelle that gets the award, but also her partner in crime and my poocherific BFF, Baby Boy Z. We had some good times, we did. I like my current roommates just fine, but it's not the same.
Awesome Discovery award
Somehow I skirted around the phenomenal filmmaker, Guy Maddin, for years and years. I watched Careful streaming on Netflix and it was the most refreshing thing I'd seen in a long time. Filmed in washed-out Technicolor, kind of funny, dreamy, and highly original. After that, I was hooked. I moved on to Brand Upon The Brain, Cowards Bend The Knee, My Winnipeg, The Saddest Music In The World, and Dracula (a silent film and a ballet!). Totally inspiring, his output. I've tried to get people turned on to his films but so far no one has shown much interest. Their loss.
Best Party award
Tracy and Ray's Christmas party lacked in only one area: it should have been much longer. Sure, it was well after midnight when we left, but I was having so much fun I could have withstood at least a few more hours with that wonderful bunch of friends.
Dog Crush award
This goes out to Missy D. She is so pretty and cute that it alarms me a bit knowing I would do anything she asked of me (good thing for me she can't speak English very well). I always say that if I was a dog I would ask her out. The only problem is she'd be way out of my league and would most likely reject me. I was hoping Baby Boy Z would win her heart so I could live vicariously through him, but, alas, his charms haven't had the proper effect.
Best Sign People Are Waking Up (Albeit Probably Too Late) award
The whole Occupy movement. Watching the protesters choose peace over violence over and over again filled my heart with joy. You can call them filthy, entitled, lazy, hippies, or whatever else you learned from the TV, but know this: it takes a special kind of will to withstand the violence and cruelty the Police State has inflicted on the protesters. I'm not sure I'd be able to handle getting blasted with pepper spray or beaten with batons without wanting to return the slight in kind. It's a shame more people don't support this movement. The protesters, for the most part, are true patriots. And more than that, they've chosen the way of peace (so far) and there is no higher ideal.
On that note, I'm off to do other stuff. Maybe a Bigfoot podcast, maybe some recording, maybe some reading. I will meditate at some point for sure. And remember, my brothers and sisters, it is more important than ever to be kind to one another, to be loving with one another. Make at least one person smile a day. Be grateful for what you have and give as much as you can.
Peace.
So, anyway, I was just watching an interview with Chris Hedges from C-Span entitled "Brace Yourself! The American Empire Is Over And The Descent Is Going To Be Horrifying." I got about five minutes into it and decided to deploy my attention elsewhere. Not because of Hedges - I believe he's spot on, sadly - but because I've had enough doom and gloom lately. Anyway, I've already touched on a topic I claimed I was going to stay away from in the opening paragraph. Focus, Kevin.
I'm listening to the band Girls as I type. So far I'm really digging them. It's an interesting hodgepodge of classic rock structures. I hear old King Crimson, The Beach Boys, Black Sabbath, Jethro Tull (there is flute), The Beatles, Led Zeppelin, Big Star. I have to admit, I expected something different from a band named Girls.
Last night I was listening back to a playback of a new song, trying to determine which direction I should take vocally. I had laid down a rough track a couple of nights ago and, at the time, I didn't feel it was sufficient. When I listened to it last night I determined that the take was indeed sufficient. The song is just about done now. I'll revisit it again tonight to see if I indeed want to keep the vocals as is.
Been listening to a great podcast on Bigfoot called The Bigfoot Show. Really well done. The hosts are experts in the field (I won't bother naming them because it's likely you won't know who they are), astute, and approach the subject with a healthy degree of skepticism. Man, I love a good podcast.
I've also discovered that The X-Files has been streaming on Netflix. The entire series. It may take me a while to get through it all. There's like twenty episodes per season. Oh, and I also discovered Star Trek: The Next Generation is streaming, too. I watched the pilot episode the other night. I know things change as the show gets comfortable with itself; I'm really hoping one of those changes is toning down the blaring dramatic horns that pepper the first episode. Go gentle with the music, dear Star Trek. You're dramatic enough. Anyway, if you haven't figured out I'm a bit of a geek by now, you've been skimming this blog way too much. One more thing about Star Trek: I never got into the original series; the only one I paid much attention to was Next Generation. I prefer it because it's like, you know, cerebral and shit. And the fact that it features Dr. Crusher and Deanna Troi doesn't hurt. Know what I'm sayin'? Sure you do.
It's fucking freezing tonight. Winter is a drag and there's no way you can convince me otherwise. Still, it's not so bad. You just have to take a Zen approach to it. It's not the season itself that's bad, it's our perception that makes it so. Like that? Pretty profound, I know. A product of having a heart as pure and gentle as a mother's kiss.
I just realized that the year came and went and I didn't post any year end awards. What the fuck is the matter with me? I'm sure this omission has created a vortex of despair in your lives. I will try to remedy that by......posting some awards right the fuck now, son!!!!
Roommate I Wish Was Still My Roommate award
I should have made that plural because it's not just Janelle that gets the award, but also her partner in crime and my poocherific BFF, Baby Boy Z. We had some good times, we did. I like my current roommates just fine, but it's not the same.
Awesome Discovery award
Somehow I skirted around the phenomenal filmmaker, Guy Maddin, for years and years. I watched Careful streaming on Netflix and it was the most refreshing thing I'd seen in a long time. Filmed in washed-out Technicolor, kind of funny, dreamy, and highly original. After that, I was hooked. I moved on to Brand Upon The Brain, Cowards Bend The Knee, My Winnipeg, The Saddest Music In The World, and Dracula (a silent film and a ballet!). Totally inspiring, his output. I've tried to get people turned on to his films but so far no one has shown much interest. Their loss.
Best Party award
Tracy and Ray's Christmas party lacked in only one area: it should have been much longer. Sure, it was well after midnight when we left, but I was having so much fun I could have withstood at least a few more hours with that wonderful bunch of friends.
Dog Crush award
This goes out to Missy D. She is so pretty and cute that it alarms me a bit knowing I would do anything she asked of me (good thing for me she can't speak English very well). I always say that if I was a dog I would ask her out. The only problem is she'd be way out of my league and would most likely reject me. I was hoping Baby Boy Z would win her heart so I could live vicariously through him, but, alas, his charms haven't had the proper effect.
Best Sign People Are Waking Up (Albeit Probably Too Late) award
The whole Occupy movement. Watching the protesters choose peace over violence over and over again filled my heart with joy. You can call them filthy, entitled, lazy, hippies, or whatever else you learned from the TV, but know this: it takes a special kind of will to withstand the violence and cruelty the Police State has inflicted on the protesters. I'm not sure I'd be able to handle getting blasted with pepper spray or beaten with batons without wanting to return the slight in kind. It's a shame more people don't support this movement. The protesters, for the most part, are true patriots. And more than that, they've chosen the way of peace (so far) and there is no higher ideal.
On that note, I'm off to do other stuff. Maybe a Bigfoot podcast, maybe some recording, maybe some reading. I will meditate at some point for sure. And remember, my brothers and sisters, it is more important than ever to be kind to one another, to be loving with one another. Make at least one person smile a day. Be grateful for what you have and give as much as you can.
Peace.
Monday, January 2, 2012
Baby, you can drive my car
Happy New Year? A question mark instead of an exclamation point because mine has not started very well. Before I continue, allow me to state that I don't put much or any stock into the timing of my woes. Still, I'm hoping what's been happening doesn't set a precedent for the rest of the year.
Anyway, back in October my car went through a bunch of shit, all of which was taken care of. My inspection sticker had been overdue, so they inspected the car after the repairs were done. It didn't pass because I had new sensors put in and they had to collect the car's data that was stored on the old ones. I was told I needed to drive the car around a bit before taking it back in for another inspection. I did as I was told. Several times, to no avail.
Turns out, I needed to put at least 100 miles on the car before the data could be collected. This was put into place by the RMV so that any problems with the car would reveal themselves within those hundred miles. If this is confusing at all to you, you're in good company. I can barely get my mind around it.
I'm fond of the guys who work at the garage, but I wish it had been made very clear to me that I needed to put on at least 100 miles before I could get it inspected. The advice to take it on the highway for a bit wasn't specific enough. It wasn't until Friday that all of this was made perfectly clear. I had hoped to have it inspected then, particularly because the rejection sticker was about to expire at the end of the month.
On Saturday, I drove up to NH, hit the Barnes & Noble in Nashua for a little browsing, got stuck in the shopper's traffic for about fifteen minutes (I had forgotten how insane that can be) and headed back to the garage. I was beat when I got there (Oh, I forgot to mention, I got another sinus infection - 2nd in the last several weeks) and just wanted to go home. It was New Year's Eve and I spent most of the day driving in gloomy weather wishing I was spending my long weekend differently.
They hooked cables up to my car and, after minutes of finger-crossing, I was told the car didn't pass because the data hadn't been stored yet on one of the sensors. I was fatigued but wanted to get this bullshit over with, so I got back in the car for some more driving, with the hope that the additional miles I put on would do the trick. About a mile away from the garage, my check engine light went on. Fuck!
I drove back to the garage and was told that the check engine light being on meant the sensor had collected the data it needed. "Oh, so that's a good thing, then", I said with relief. "Not really, it means that something is wrong", I was informed. Fuck!
They made a quick determination that I had some wiring issues. "Bring the car by on Monday morning - we'll be in - and we'll fix it. You'll have to drive another hundred miles, though, because we're going to have to reset the check engine light." Fuck!
That was New Year's Eve. I ended up not going out that night, primarily because I was feeling lousy and also because I didn't, in light of the way my day was going, want to be broken down somewhere in the cold and dark, waiting for AAA to arrive. Instead, I worked on music and watched Inception, all the while trying not to think about my car issues and nursing clogged sinuses.
I knew I was screwed if my car didn't pass or if I couldn't afford the repairs. I was painfully aware that the wiring issues might only be one of the problems with my car. It was conceivable that after the car was fixed and after another hundred miles, the check engine light could go on again. A slippery slope, but one I had no other choice but to go down.
I woke up early this morning, heart racing. This has been the norm lately. I took the car over to the garage and walked home. I was told it would be ready around noon. It was ready around two thirty. I walked back to the garage and hit the road. I drove up 93 all the way through Derry and then made my way back. Again, I waited with fingers crossed as they hooked cables up to the car.
After some time, they came over to me with a print out that read "Inspection Cannot Proceed". Below that it stated that I needed to take the car to a Motorist Assistance Center for testing before it can be brought back to an Inspection Center. The mechanics had never seen this before and looked befuddled. They tried calling the number it said to call, but, of course, no one picked up. Fuck!
So that's where we're at. Tomorrow, I'm going to have to miss some work, which is great considering how much money I can afford to lose. Who knows what's going to happen. My mechanic said he was going to call in the morning to see what needs to be done. I know what's going to happen: I'm going to have to locate a fucking place that does this testing, take my car there, and if somehow it passes, then I'll have to take the car back to the garage again for another go round. (Won't be doing that tomorrow. I read the printout more carefully - they're not open. Guess I'll be driving illegally for a bit. )
This is becoming a nightmare. The mechanics have never even heard of these testing centers. I'm guessing the criteria is much more strict, which doesn't bode well for my car. There is a very real possibility I won't have a car to drive in the coming days. And the cherry on top of it all is that I still have to pay for the repairs I had done. I'm trying to stay centered, but it's becoming harder. All the wasted time driving around, all the gas money, all the rejection, and now this. Sometimes it's hard not think the Universe is fucking with me. Stay centered, Kevin. Breathe.
Don't mean to be a downer, but I'm frustrated and spent. I wish things would improve. One day at a time is all I can do. Even though this situation could have disastrous implications (without a car, I'm pretty screwed), I recognize there are bigger problems in life and though this one has felt sinister with the obstacles that keep cropping up, I can manage, enough to see it through.
Serenity now.
Anyway, back in October my car went through a bunch of shit, all of which was taken care of. My inspection sticker had been overdue, so they inspected the car after the repairs were done. It didn't pass because I had new sensors put in and they had to collect the car's data that was stored on the old ones. I was told I needed to drive the car around a bit before taking it back in for another inspection. I did as I was told. Several times, to no avail.
Turns out, I needed to put at least 100 miles on the car before the data could be collected. This was put into place by the RMV so that any problems with the car would reveal themselves within those hundred miles. If this is confusing at all to you, you're in good company. I can barely get my mind around it.
I'm fond of the guys who work at the garage, but I wish it had been made very clear to me that I needed to put on at least 100 miles before I could get it inspected. The advice to take it on the highway for a bit wasn't specific enough. It wasn't until Friday that all of this was made perfectly clear. I had hoped to have it inspected then, particularly because the rejection sticker was about to expire at the end of the month.
On Saturday, I drove up to NH, hit the Barnes & Noble in Nashua for a little browsing, got stuck in the shopper's traffic for about fifteen minutes (I had forgotten how insane that can be) and headed back to the garage. I was beat when I got there (Oh, I forgot to mention, I got another sinus infection - 2nd in the last several weeks) and just wanted to go home. It was New Year's Eve and I spent most of the day driving in gloomy weather wishing I was spending my long weekend differently.
They hooked cables up to my car and, after minutes of finger-crossing, I was told the car didn't pass because the data hadn't been stored yet on one of the sensors. I was fatigued but wanted to get this bullshit over with, so I got back in the car for some more driving, with the hope that the additional miles I put on would do the trick. About a mile away from the garage, my check engine light went on. Fuck!
I drove back to the garage and was told that the check engine light being on meant the sensor had collected the data it needed. "Oh, so that's a good thing, then", I said with relief. "Not really, it means that something is wrong", I was informed. Fuck!
They made a quick determination that I had some wiring issues. "Bring the car by on Monday morning - we'll be in - and we'll fix it. You'll have to drive another hundred miles, though, because we're going to have to reset the check engine light." Fuck!
That was New Year's Eve. I ended up not going out that night, primarily because I was feeling lousy and also because I didn't, in light of the way my day was going, want to be broken down somewhere in the cold and dark, waiting for AAA to arrive. Instead, I worked on music and watched Inception, all the while trying not to think about my car issues and nursing clogged sinuses.
I knew I was screwed if my car didn't pass or if I couldn't afford the repairs. I was painfully aware that the wiring issues might only be one of the problems with my car. It was conceivable that after the car was fixed and after another hundred miles, the check engine light could go on again. A slippery slope, but one I had no other choice but to go down.
I woke up early this morning, heart racing. This has been the norm lately. I took the car over to the garage and walked home. I was told it would be ready around noon. It was ready around two thirty. I walked back to the garage and hit the road. I drove up 93 all the way through Derry and then made my way back. Again, I waited with fingers crossed as they hooked cables up to the car.
After some time, they came over to me with a print out that read "Inspection Cannot Proceed". Below that it stated that I needed to take the car to a Motorist Assistance Center for testing before it can be brought back to an Inspection Center. The mechanics had never seen this before and looked befuddled. They tried calling the number it said to call, but, of course, no one picked up. Fuck!
So that's where we're at. Tomorrow, I'm going to have to miss some work, which is great considering how much money I can afford to lose. Who knows what's going to happen. My mechanic said he was going to call in the morning to see what needs to be done. I know what's going to happen: I'm going to have to locate a fucking place that does this testing, take my car there, and if somehow it passes, then I'll have to take the car back to the garage again for another go round. (Won't be doing that tomorrow. I read the printout more carefully - they're not open. Guess I'll be driving illegally for a bit. )
This is becoming a nightmare. The mechanics have never even heard of these testing centers. I'm guessing the criteria is much more strict, which doesn't bode well for my car. There is a very real possibility I won't have a car to drive in the coming days. And the cherry on top of it all is that I still have to pay for the repairs I had done. I'm trying to stay centered, but it's becoming harder. All the wasted time driving around, all the gas money, all the rejection, and now this. Sometimes it's hard not think the Universe is fucking with me. Stay centered, Kevin. Breathe.
Don't mean to be a downer, but I'm frustrated and spent. I wish things would improve. One day at a time is all I can do. Even though this situation could have disastrous implications (without a car, I'm pretty screwed), I recognize there are bigger problems in life and though this one has felt sinister with the obstacles that keep cropping up, I can manage, enough to see it through.
Serenity now.
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