Rejoice, rejoice, we had no choice

I've been looking for jobs every day and so far haven't found much of anything promising. It's been like sifting for gold at the edge of a nearly dry creek bed. Discouraging, yes, but also empowering inasmuch as I'm being proactive. Something will come along eventually. Just have to keep plugging away. The question is should I find a part time job to supplement my current one or get a new full time job? I'm exploring  my options.

And while I'm at it, I'm researching, albeit without much vigor so far, other career possibilities, like work at home jobs and yoga teacher training, which is looking better and better to me. I've worked a lot of shit jobs in my time and I'd like to find something that pays well and is gratifying. Can it happen? Sure, but sometimes I wonder as I scour hundreds of jobs a night that I'm either unqualified for or that have every appearance of being soul-sucking. I'll find something, just have to keep at it.
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I had what may have been a paranormal experience yesterday. I was at my mom's house and had gone upstairs to the office (my old bedroom) to check something on her computer while she was out walking Mimi. After a few minutes I looked behind me and discovered the door was almost completely closed. I never close that door. When I use my mother's computer, it's usually for her benefit. I anticipated her joining me when she returned from her walk because I was researching toilet repair videos on YouTube (hers is having minor issues) and wanted to show her what I found. Closing the door would have signaled a need for privacy.

The office has two windows and both were shut. The AC was on in my mother's room across the hall cooling the entire upstairs, so I immediately ruled out a breeze from outside as the cause. Even if there was one, I doubt it would have had enough force to maneuver the door, which brushes against the carpet and doesn't swing loose. It was a hot day and I was in a small room with the windows shut. Even with the door open, it can get stuffy in there. Closing it would have been counter-intuitive.

I told my mother what happened when she joined me. She was nonplussed. I didn't mention it to her, but when I discovered the door was shut, I thought of my father.  During my last visit, I had asked my mother if she had encountered any ghostly activity since my father passed away. She said she hadn't and joked that my father probably couldn't wait to get out of there. I'm convinced there is genuine paranormal activity that occurs in the world; I'm just not sure what causes it. I'm not married to the idea that it was the ghost of my father that shut the door, but I won't rule it out.

And look, it could have been me that did it. Even though I think it implausible, it's still possible I was the cause. I was thinking about how I should articulate my search query on YouTube; I could have shut the door while ruminating about toilet parts (something I do more than you'll ever know), unaware on a conscious level that I did it. Who knows.

My gut tells me it wasn't me that did it. I'll leave it at that.
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Boy, did I have a nightmare last night. I was alone in an ill-lit attic between two wide screen TVs  that were spaced about ten feet apart. Each were broadcasting liquid, trippy images of satanic imagery and symbols. One would draw me in close and when I managed to pry myself from its allure, I'd be drawn to the other. Back and forth I went, trapped between two masters. At one point I realized it was a dream and knew that the only way out of this was for me to wake up, but I barely had sovereignty over myself. It took a colossal, panicked effort, but I eventually woke up.

 Maybe I shouldn't have eaten five bowls of chili before bed. Well, it was Billy who suggested it. I'll have to have words with him.

I hope to have better dreams tonight. Perhaps my return to a regular meditation practice will pay off. We'll see.

Namaste, lovers.

I taste thee and mentally say God, God, God

No camping for me this weekend. Man, I really wanted to go, but I didn't trust my car. Been having issues - might be a head gasket - and I didn't want to risk breaking down up in VT. I did, over the course of the weekend, have several instances when I said fuck it and came very close to throwing my tent and sundry in the car and taking my chances. But I didn't and I'm not sure if it was the right move. Had some cognitive dissonance going on.

Perhaps I needed to go through this, and by this I mean spending the weekend by myself in my head instead of being social with friends at a place I've come to cherish over the years. And, like I said, I really wanted to go - if I ever needed to get out of the city, it was this weekend. I had thought Spira was going to go, she had said as much, but when I texted her about it on Wednesday, she replied that she wasn't sure. And when I called her on Thursday night, she didn't pick up, so I left her a voice mail. She never called back. Not sure what that was about, but if I was going to hitch a ride with someone, it was her. So no ride.

I felt squirmy and conflicted for much of the weekend. Seemed like everyone was out having fun with their friends and families and here I was alone, no family, and friends off doing their own things. All the while, though, I didn't blame anyone and tried to see my predicament as a learning experience. For better or worse, I'm where I'm at because of my decisions. This illustrated plainly I need to be more self sufficient so that I don't have to rely on anyone else.

So I practiced a ton of yoga and worked on music. I even wrote and recorded a new song. I also went deep down some rabbit holes in terms of conspiracies and what not. I won't even bother getting into it here, but man there's some scary stuff going on. Still, I wasn't left in a corner, shivering and wild-eyed. No, just felt that much more awake. Lucid.

I tempered the dark with the light and listened to a lot of fine music. I purchased Lower Dens fantastic, kraut rock meets Beach House, Nootropics and Nina Simone's Live At Ronnie Scotts. Oh, yeah, I also received a letter from my bank letting me know my account info may be in nefarious hands. Security breaches abound. They won't get much from me, that's for sure. Ha!

I'm still determined to go camping. Probably won't be until two or three weeks. I don't expect I'll get many takers - that's how it goes these days, especially when it's this late in the season. That's alright. We used to have fifteen or twenty people on some of these trips. Things change. That will probably never happen again in my life. I'll deal with it.

Alright, lovers, keep the faith and what not.

Shapes of things before my eyes, just teach me to despise

Yesterday I got up at quarter past six without the aid of my alarm and practiced yoga for an hour. Good start to a day but it could be that I'm paying for it now. While I was staying at Spira's, her pillow configuration did a number on my neck and left shoulder. I was able to get past the consequent stiffness rather quickly, but it made its return last night; I don't know if the morning yoga was the cause or if it was my own pillow configuration that left me stiff and sore today. I kept waking up last night in an uncomfortable position; the pinched nerve in my neck or whatever the fuck it is, had asserted itself fairly early on.

It was not a great night, especially considering the dream I had about my dad. I can't remember much about it, save for the fact that I had parked a tractor trailer on his road and left it there over night while I slept at my apartment in Lowell (?) with my girlfriend, Yara, or a name similar to that. I went over to his house the next morning (I should establish here that in the dream it was my mother that had passed away) to move the truck and discovered it was parked in his driveway. I retrieved some of my belongings from it (homework, I think; guess I was attending college) and he came out of the house and confronted me about having to move the truck on my behalf. He was belligerent; it was clear he'd been drinking. It was not a friendly encounter. I went back to my place and hung out with Yara. It felt good having her there; we were clearly in love.

And then I woke up. No father, no girlfriend. At least my mother returned from the dead. There is that. Don't know what spawned the dream, but it probably had something to do with having visited with my mom after work yesterday. It may have been nothing, paranoia on my part, but it seemed like she was repeating herself a lot. Her mother had Alzheimer's... I really hope this is nothing. Oh, and the tractor trailer probably had to do with having one almost barrel into me on the highway yesterday because I wasn't going fast enough for him. Whatever.

So, yeah, last night wasn't a tip toe through the tulips.

Anyway

After reading about how much the occult influenced Twin Peaks, I decided to re-watch the first season and then, if things go well, watch the second season for the first time. Maybe I'll watch some tonight.

I cleaned up some of the backing vocals on the song I started recording the other day. I'll probably mix it tomorrow. Don't know if I'll post it to FB, but I might send it to a few people. It's pretty raw, but as I said in my last post, it's been with me for a while and hasn't been documented. I have a bunch of songs like that, many of which will never see the light of day. Sob.

Alright, it's probably time for me to wrap this up. Don't know about camping this weekend; I have to figure out how or if it's going down. Maybe I'll summon the nerve to ask Billy what he thinks. I'm only allowed one question every three weeks, so I'll have to phrase it thoughtfully.

Cheerio!

Same old song, just a drop of water in an endless sea

Salt or pepper? I'll take pepper because that's the name of the cute little boxer puppy that is now residing at our place. It took several months, but Fred finally adopted a dog. Pepper is about ten weeks old and only slightly more heavy than a loaf of bread. That will change. Evangeline has been giddy about this new development; she's wanted to live with a dog for years. It's possible she'll run off with Pepper. I'll be watching her carefully.

I just recorded a song that has been kicking around for years and has never been recorded. It's not the best performance, but at least it's documented. I added some harmonies and they sound pretty good. I think this song will be the first offering in the project I'm hoping will come to fruition. Stay tuned!

Without going into detail, mostly because I'm not exactly sure how it happened, I ended up losing about half of my recorded songs yesterday. I was able to recover all but one. Turned out well and the experience served as a reminder that I should back up the songs. So I made a few play lists and burned them on to a few discs. Close to two hundred songs preserved. Whew!

Had a good time with friends at Ray's party over the weekend. I gave him a card and wrote "wanker" inside it. No other sentiment, no signature. Nothing. That's how I roll, son. Anyway, we share a similar sense of humor, so there were no hard feelings. I think. Hmmm....it's possible he may have cried about it later on that night. I sometimes forget that words can hurt.

Oh, well.

So, yeah, it was a good time spent with good people. And even though I don't see many of them that often, it's always a pleasure when I do. We drank beers, sat around the fire pit, that sort of thing. Wish we had more time together.
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It wasn't too much of an adjustment returning home after a five week absence. I did feel compelled to clean the bathroom and common areas pretty much immediately upon my return, though. Especially the bathroom  - holy fuck, the bathtub was caked with dirt and the toilet bowl looked like someone had spray painted rust inside it. No, sir, I could not have that. Other than that, the house was in relatively good shape.

Ah, but I'd like to move. Maybe out of the city, I don't know. Nothing against my roommates, but I'm getting older and would like to have my own place or at least live with a girlfriend or wife. And I'm not sure how many more New England winters I can take. We'll see.

Think I'm ready to attempt a morning yoga practice. I've been getting up earlier these days, so it won't be too much of a shock to my system. Seems like a good move; it will get my days off to a good start and I won't have to contend with extraneous noise; t'will be as placid as a dew covered leaf.

Oh, there's a new episode of The Leftovers for me to watch! Perhaps I'll do so tonight. Haven't watched much of anything lately, but I did watch Ozu's Late Spring last night. He made very pretty, simply told films and you owe it to yourself to watch at least one of them. I intend to explore more of his vast output as time permits.

Alright, enough of my yapping for one night.

Chestnut brown canary, ruby throated sparrow

I haven't posted in a while, but whatever, right? My absence, I'm sure, hasn't caused disruption in your lives. Maybe it has, what do I know. Anyway, just checking in. Not in the mood for, nor do I have the time to devote to,writing.

I'm back home, I'm tired. I'll retire for the evening while the rest of you get all giddy over the ice bucket challenge or some shit.

Peace

You can choose not to decide, but still you've made a choice

A lot of running around. After work, I hustled through the grocery store and purchased some dog food and a few other essentials. I hustled because I knew Missy D needed to go out. I feel bad when I get home later than usual; she holds up her end of the bargain by being perfectly housebroken so I try to hold up mine. So I did my shopping, came home, ran up five flights of stairs with grocery bags in tow (again, the similarities between me and Rocky Balboa are made manifest), greeted Missy D at the door, put said bags down, grabbed leash and collar, and out for a walk we went.

The after work walks are our longest and often they try my patience. Why? Well, Missy D stops every two feet to sniff at something. This is fine, she's a dog and that's what many of them like to do. It's important to me that she gets the chance to fully function as a dog with senses engaged. Still, after about a half hour of this, I'm liable to get a bit grouchy, especially when all I want to do I want to do is eat dinner and sit down for a bit. Relax.

I've gotten better on these walks, which is not to suggest I don't occasionally hurry Missy D along; if I didn't, we'd be out there all night. So I try for the middle ground, compromise. Today we came back from our walk around six thirty. I made our respective dinners, sat down and ate over an episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm (Larry's got a pubic hair stuck in his throat throughout the entire episode. I like how this story arc covers multiple episodes), washed some dishes, had some coffee, and here I am typing away, about to take Missy D out for another walk. Feels like we just went out and that is because we did. Hey, this is what happens when you've got a housemate that is not allowed to use the toilet for various reasons. And, you know, it's worth it because I love her so much (awwwww....).

I've had a bunch of low grade synchronicity experiences over the last several day; little dots being connected by some unseen hand. Low grade, but taken as a whole, pretty significant. Specific examples won't be forthcoming, at least for the time being, because time is of the essence (Missy D is looking at me with her pleading "Let's go out!" eyes). Just know that I'm going through this and it's kind of neat and kind of spooky.

After our walk, I'll probably watch the latest episode of The Leftovers, a program that has not let me down yet. I'll try to read from Peter Levenda's Sinister Forces, The Manson Secret: A Grimoire of American Political Witchcraft. This is the third in a trilogy, the whole of which took twenty five years to write. Very good writer and the connections he makes are often effin' creepy. I'll probably write more about the book, especially as it has factored in my synchronicity experiences.

Okay, she just sighed loudly. Alright, Princess Puppy Baby, alright: we'll go out. You're lucky you're so adorable.

Perhaps my next post will be more substantive. I've been meaning to relate some of the changes I've gone through and how organically they've happened. For example, besides eggs, I have barely eaten meat in the last several months. This was not planned. Maybe it's the yoga that's bringing about some of these changes. Perhaps.

Alright, lads and lasses, peace out!

Come run, jump, skip a long Sam, what a happy man I am

I don't think I've slept late once since I've been staying here. The latest I get up is between nine and nine thirty. That's what happens when you're taking care of a dog. I'm more or less fine with this arrangement - if I feel like I need more sleep, I compensate with a nap if I'm able - and besides, I get more time in the day for love making and ruminating about life and what not. For example, it's only 11:30 and I've already taken Missy D out, had breakfast, tidied up, gone to the grocery store, made tzatziki and chopped watermelon, and possibly even laid the groundwork for a new religion. Even though I've so far not been in accordance with the general idea of the sabbath, according to which rest and relaxation are central, I plan on aligning myself to it very soon.

While watching The Story of Film the other day, it occurred to me that Spira has Hulu Plus on her Apple TV, which has the entire Criterion Collection on it. For those of you who aren't aware of what that is, I'll explain: Criterion puts out all sorts of cool, often restored, foreign and classic movies. I had totally forgotten that Hulu Plus had this feature, which is understandable because much of what they offer is crap, so when the realization struck, it was a true moment of satori. I perused the library of movies yesterday and was in hog heaven. The first film I started watching was Satyajit Ray's The Music Room. I'm about half way through; I'll finish it today. And there's a bunch of Ozu and Kurosawa films and....damn, so effin' much!
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I was thinking about how much my social landscape has changed. Many of my friendships are only so in name only; not too many are active, tangible. Things change, people come into your life, people exit your life. I'm not always pleased with the changes, but to use an expression I thought I'd never use, it is what it is. And, look, I'm changing too; I enter and exit peoples lives; it's a great big dance we're all engaged in.

Sometimes it seems to me that social media sites, particularly Facebook, are downright insidious in that they present the illusion of community when in fact they peddle empty calories. This can fuck you up. On the one hand, you've got this feeling like you have a network of friends and that feels reassuring. You may even communicate with these people from time to time. Underlying that, though, when you look at it closely, is the reality that many of these friendships lack substance.

I've pretty much given up on the idea of interaction on Facebook. While it may be a fruitful experience for others - clearly it is - it hasn't been my experience. Most of what I've ever posted goes unnoticed, and the posts that don't tend to have a limited reach and lack momentum. Still, I occasionally post stuff and occasionally an interaction will take place. Mostly though, the fish ain't biting and, you know, that's alright because I've assessed the landscape and made it alright in my mind. When I post songs that I've put effort into, that I'm proud of, and I barely get any feedback, I'm ready for it. It is what it is (okay, that's the last time).

One last thing about social media. I'm not against it at all and, contrary to my what I wrote above, a site like Facebook provides a window into my friend's lives that I wouldn't ordinarily have access to. Sure, there's a lot of vaguebooking attention grabs, pictures of food, and a welter of cat and puppy memes, but there is substance to be found, too. It is what it is (fuck, I did it again!)

Well, it's time to go read about the occult. See ya', homies!

Everybody is a part of everything anyway, you can have everything if you let yourself be

There's a woman who does title examining at the registry of deeds in Cambridge that I've had a mini, almost entirely lustful, crush on for the last couple of years. Other than one short interaction we had about a year ago, I'm pretty sure she's not aware of or, at the very least stimulated in some way by, my presence at the registry.

While I was there earlier today, my gaze returned to her again and again as if by some magnetic pull and, unless she's masterfully surreptitious, she never once lifted her eyes in my direction. It's always like that and it doesn't really bother me; in fact I find it slightly amusing that she's so (seemingly) oblivious to the attention I'm paying her. In a way it makes me desire her more, similar to the way Seinfeld's George Costanza pined over a woman who hated him. Ha!

Anyway, it also got me thinking: Do I have someone lusting over me that I'm unaware of? Considering how suave and macho and pure-hearted I am, the answer to that question is most certainly yes, but perhaps I'll never know for sure.
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The Princess Puppy Baby doesn't play like Pooch Edward Bottoms or other dogs I've known that love to devour squeaky toys, go at it with the pull toy, or engage in other rough house activities. She has her moments, though. As I was typing the last paragraph, she walked over to me and barked and then spazzed out for several seconds, which she does every so often when she's feeling frisky. Realizing she needed some stimulation, I got up and went into the bedroom and liberated her unfinished rawhide bone from under the bed and gave it to her. It was the right move: she's now chomping away merrily at it in the corner. I like it when I can help a pal out.

We went for a walk in the park by the Zakim bridge after work today. On one of the scenic side paths, I spotted a guy in sunglasses about thirty feet behind us emerge from another path. As Missy stuffed her head in the vegetation and sniffed away, I saw the guy put on a pair of blue latex gloves as he made his way toward us. So of course I was spooked and casually tried to wrest Missy from her olfactory reverie so that we could vamoose. She wasn't having it initially, but when she finally did snap out of it, she decided to walk back towards this potential psycho. No way, son, I thought, and insistently prodded her away. There wasn't anyone else around at that time and I wasn't ready to subject us to any of the thousand awful things that guy was going to do to us that my imagination conjured. So we split. I have no idea what that was about, but what's with the fucking gloves!

Started watching The Story of Film series on Netflix. I'm about three episodes in and it's so effin' good. It covers just about every aspect of film, from the business end to its artistic components. Just made it out of the silent era. We're heading into the talkies, folks.

I was reading from Frazer's The Golden Bough: A Study In Magic And Religion at lunch today and learned about the Corn God, which manifested all across Europe as different animals. I think it was in Germany that it was represented as a cock and once the reaping of the corn was done, a wagon with a wooden emblem of a cock on its side would be brought to a farmer who would take the emblem in exchange for an actual cock, which the villagers would then kill in various ways which included whipping or burying it up to its neck and then then lopping its head off with a scythe. I hope that tradition has been toned down significantly.

There's a new Big Three podcast to listen to. I think this one's going to be a blockbuster judging by the previews. Perry's meeting with The System will be recounted and I think Tom Brennan and John Quincy Adams are going to tie the knot. Color me excited!

Well, it's about time to take Missy D out for her night walk. I really hope we don't run into the glove guy, but if we do I'm sure Missy D will protect me.