clips

1.Go into your LJ’s archives.
2.Find your 23rd post (or closest to).
3.Find the fifth sentence (or closest to).
4.Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.

from 2004: music playing slightly over management chucking it up with some corporate outside of door.

from 2003: my eyes are foggy. mistaken brain. I’ll fall asleep like this before I even get to the register. shot by a death ray, slowly falling with each letter.

from 2002: go out with some real friends

from 2001: the boss is like the
stereotypical cop
like a parent
who never understands its child
never understands anyone

from 2000: I want so desperately for some friends to be around, to talk and read with. I’m getting through some Dostoevsky pages, but my head hurts . . . so no more this evening. someone send me an e-mail.

eyes closed

as summer approaches, I’m thinking about how nice it’s going to be to have it more open, have more free time for myself, for my friends, projects, and so on.

as today is underway, I have taken time to breathe in deeply, and exhale gigantically.

a deletion of junk mail.
a focus on solid ideas and possibilities.

a scene from a movie strikes a match to the imagination. a dream or nightmare does this as well.

meditate on slow movements.

jolt your body out of depression.

write your writer’s block a letter describing all the things you’ve been doing while away.

my vacation was in DC walking up and down closed off streets with fired up activists protesting the corruption of the IMF and World Bank. shut this thing down. shut this thing down!

envision what will happen 5 years from now if it stays open.

excuses and more excuses. limiting beliefs that keep you in the dark and asleep for the rest of your life.

you might as well believe something positive that’s not true than something negative that’s not true.

1 minute left.
a deep breath.
look alive.

what can I do right now to feel amped up? knock out 10 more assignments here at work, 15 even. set something big, take aim.

rushed report of a nightmare

just awoke from this long, horrible nightmare: we were in DC, at a record store. I went outside for a short pace up and down the sidewalk and suddenly everyone started to become frantic. what the hell is the matter, what the hell is the matter?! someone directs my eyes to a group of missiles in the sky, heading down. this was it. I shot back into the record store to say goodbye to Casey forever from the vantage point of this physical body. the customers and employees were rushed into another room, C. probably with them. everything started to shake; I went back outside and the city was filled with dust.

still there was no major blast and as far as I could tell, no casualties. just panic. I was more in a panic to find her and just be with her in this incredibly strange and frightening time.

later, I was at the house I was staying at, a stranger’s, who was nice enough to put us up for free. C. shows up and says she’s leaving me, at least for some time, appearing angry.

I am talking to my mom on the phone; next minute we are hanging out and all she wants to do is check out this little shopping mall. everything is shut down. still she wants to check it out. does this symbolize skirting the subject, avoidance, as they term it?

in another scene a smoke starts to twirl from a central area and spreads, again filling the city. I hug the Washington Monument for dear life while the city shakes more violently this time. I somehow survive this, along with everyone else. I see a newspaper with a headline so huge it’s covering most of the paper (and still I can’t remember it now!), saying something like “THIS IS THE VERY END.”

again on the phone with my mom, I say, “the dust alone will be enough to kill me.”
we all know this is to be our last day. and I’m alone, walking around. a group of wound up kids, robbing people and screaming with laughter head in my direction. they begin that whole thing of sizing up, name calling, being aggressive – but I crack a joke with them, and they’re cool. they ease up and take off.

I know it is kind of a generalization, but I joke with a man lovingly, the owner of a Chinese restaurant, “this is the day when even Chinese restaurants close and employees get to leave early.” he laughs kind of with a sigh, as if he’ll have to agree to this one, but almost, almost as if he’s searching in his head for a way to keep the place open. I sit on the curb behind the place and people are watching me as I start to emotionally lose it. I begin crying and putting my hands over my face.

. . .

I had intermissions to this dream where I would halfway wake up. I think I have told C. I love her 5 times so far. I’m so glad to be alive this morning. but needless to say, pretty freaked out.

everything feels strange. I moved through the door slowly this morning. it was so hot in the room I could imagine steam rising. it was an irritable event, trying to sleep like that, and, as expected, the lungs protested, and protested in a major way. finally with a douse of the cough medicine, my lights were out around 3:30 am, and woke stubbornly five minutes before my usually scheduled time.

still I am getting along and making new friends. Lenny lives not too far from my house. we had planned to sit and meditate for 30 minutes, but the zen clock was off and it went for what seemed a 45 minute stretch. shoulders and other limbs came complaining. I didn’t say much back. also we added walking meditation, light footsteps, and afterwards chanted mantras (Mike and I) to Lenny playing the flute. we are going to have a yoga night soon and creak the old parts around. I’m worried about Mike – because of his stomach trouble. He’s taking two weeks off from work to see if that will help.

DC soon
a weekend trip
to a protest
and see
old friends
the sun
will be blasting
down
I will chant
soreness out
of my body
and build
an athletic
raft to cross
over
to the present
friends and
new friends welcome
too

writing is liquid form

the heat is keeping me up tonight instead of the usual chest congestion. so on that note, I guess it’s a welcomed change. I thought I’d give up on the tossing and turning in bed and come over here and toss and turn in writing. what do you do when you toss and turn? you’re usually thinking about different things. how your day went. what you’re going to do tomorrow. what you want to do tomorrow. what you want to do in a year. the dream you had last night. the things you regret. the things that have embarrassed you.

I thought Saturday’s meditation went pretty well. I was up early and by the time I went over there, I was able to stay pretty alert the whole time. concentration on the breath in Soto Zen meditation is one of the main factors. it was cool to keep reminding myself do this, and upon doing it, this time around the 40 minutes did not seem as painful.

thoughts on: how to cope with difficult people. hmmm. I don’t know. I’m still thinking about it. how do you? any ideas? throw them at me, please. one is, it’s a fruitless endeavor to try to enter battle with them. you just wind up feeling frustrated and exhausted in the end.

love of clarity
clarity
is power
you could say
knowledge is
power but really
it is actually
potential power
the power is in
the decision
and in
following through

I’m mulling through these ideas

Xorn was born a modern Buddha
with a Star in his head
but just
born at the wrong time
captured and tortured
well into his later years
then rescued
if his enemy were to
chop off his head
the star would
float up
and incinerate
the entire village
the Xmen found
a new friend in him
and entrusted him
to teach at the school
unfortunately, under
their noses he
was not so pure
of heart after all
and was corrupting
the minds of the
young students
to feel no compassion
for ordinary human life
in the world
deeper into the story
we learn Xorn is
actually the
infamous Magneto
and havoc
is unleashed
upon mutants
and non-mutants alike

this topsy turvy situation we find ourselves in, a moment of desperation, you have been trained to act quick. to rescue, to access damage, move on, take initiative. there are things in each military setup (no matter how corrupt or non-corrupt) that you can use to your personal advantage or to a greater good.

“when there’s betrayal!” (chain of strength) this band is constantly popping up in my head these days. “it hurts so much every time I hear that shit.”

the local boy with the tattooed face spoke with C. a while back and was rude to her because she doesn’t “look punk.” she had to inform him of her involvement thus far, but this seemed not to phase him. I thought about this, how growing up, I seemed to be more in my obnoxious stages of punk – angry, self righteous, and so on, but my focus was so blurry. I knew, for example, I was angry, but didn’t know what I was angry about. at least not so much at age 15. punk around that time for me, in the least was rebelling against my parents who I definitely knew were lame, and society (this was a given). still I had much more to learn about it all. and this didn’t mean I would become less angry. in some cases, the more I’d learn, I’d become more angry. anger can merely be a sign that you’re violated in some way. if you know that much, that can be a signal that you need to change. thus, punk is about anger, punk is about change.

punk is also about becoming kinder.

it can go
in circles really
punk is
about becoming kinder
life is about
becoming kinder
punk is about life
life is about punk
you learn
as you go
along
life is
about change
Wind of Change

a terrible apartment heat and I am up rambling away, hours away from the jarring sounds of the alarm clock and shooting myself back into the work place. I’ve come to expect that Monday’s don’t go well because of the sharp contrast of what you have to yourself as extended blocks of weekend time versus the constrictions of poor management and a seemingly endless inundation of questions to answer in order to help solve their repetitive mistakes and fumbling and forgetfulness. this is a good sign that this thing is not going to last for me, and I should start making preparations to move on within about a year’s time, if not sooner. be ready for that!

the cats are
loving sitting
in the open windows
I love sitting
by them and
feeling the
breeze come through
and passing over me
also I have
a squirt bottle
I’m using to cool
my limbs with water
as soon as I start
to feel drowsy in the
slightest I’ll
give these notes up
in favor
of dream

I’m facing a void. my determination to write sits facing a void. the terror of void. blank slate future. if my plans are empty, a new day enters into me and fills me with its own will; like a sheep I accept it and await for the next set of terms. I become invisible so as not to be seen, so to breathe, I can avoid invaders and have room to move about in my own life. each word is desperate and shot out rapidly because you never know when the next interruption is making its way around the corner.

yes, I dreamt of zombies though I haven’t watched a zombie movie in ages, not even the recent remake in theaters. there’s no time. I can’t be bothered. certainly I was bothered last night, by zombies of a different type. here’s a sample for you. all is fine until a human being sets foot on the open pavement or soil, then the undead in heaps curl up out of the earth and start grabbing at you, biting you, and pulling you back down with them. needless to say, this shifts the paradigm. this mainly happens at night. some even shape shift from humans to zombies and back to humans again so as to confuse and further perfect this strategic ambush.

I believe I managed to escape by tossing and turning. and that’s how I wrote this entry.

quick note

if you’re coming to my page directly and noticing a shift in layout templates, it’s because I’m tinkering with it trying to make it better. if you’re into this sort of thing – color schemes, whatever – I’m open to suggestions.

digs and partial surprises

time is precious in the morning, the afternoon, and the evening – people are jumping on me like that. no wonder I find it hard to breathe. and why, why are people so disorganized? was I adopted? damn, today is Friday, and I don’t have plans for the weekend. is it possible I may have something set that one part of myself has not told the other part yet? the left hand cannot see the right. in news, this young man is wanted for larceny. he hides with the wild boars where the others do not think to look. it is a good day for the sun to rocket into the sky and dissolve drug addictions and self doubts. weekend plans on the waxing and waning of the moon, left up there with car keys and coins that fell out of fountains, and programs cancelled by Fox and the WB. you keep repeating this song in your head. she says – the two of you should hit it off. what the hell does that supposed to mean? I say, I’m taking psychology, to which she replies – oh, that’ll do you some good. more digs? or just surprise birthday parties? I will go to shine my own tennis shoes and lift a twenty pound weight after I’m done calling people jackasses and larcenists. the guilty cereal sogged up the only space left available, so now people pay more but eat less. this life thing is rollercoaster-ish and even in the place of business myths and fables have their underlying current with which transactions assume a proper b-boy stance.

work is sunny on a Thursday

now is a good a time as any to do some more writing. life is going by fast these days. it’s not that I don’t have some active participation in it, because I do, but being on a production line like this one, the month of April, already reaching the middle of it, is pretty intense, and makes me really value my personal time. I can only imagine what having a kid would do to my schedule. which brings me to that. I had a dream last night that I had a three year old son. he was in bed asleep next to me, and he had a sheet pulled over his eyes. his hair was yellow just like mine was at that age. I just gazed at him for a long time. I couldn’t believe that I had a son…

change is always going on. but these are days that I’m recognizing that change more, seeing it in myself, making changes consciously, and observing it in other places. almost constantly on my mind is that idea of the conscious and subconscious mind, how they can work together positively. growing up, I would always hear about the subconscious in a negative light, such as a particle of thought or emotion bypasses the conscious and goes straight to the sub, and there it awaits dormant, waiting to attack on a rain drenched day. submarine enemies! but no, it can work other ways, too. you can hand over tasks to the subconscious mind and it will handle them. such as. . . a computer problem you keep banging your head up against the wall over. you can decide, okay, I’m going to come back to this later, and relax. the subconscious mind takes that que, and as you relax, go out for a walk or whatever, it figures out the problem on its own time and comes to you, to the foreground, the conscious mind. but I’ve written about this here already.

I could add, though, that by applying a little pressure to the subconscious mind, that solution may actually come quicker. otherwise, you might be waiting a few days for it, if not longer. and this leads into the next topic: anticipation. anticipation coupled with the will of constantly improving your methods leads to a greater sense of self mastery or kung fu.

home is where
I hang my hat
work is war
work is a challenge
work is an opportunity
work is school
work is where I can get other work done
alongside of the assignments they give me
work is understanding everyone’s rhythm
work is going through it and complaining a lot and
someone turning around years later telling
me the entire thing was bad only because
of my bad attitude and my blood gets a little
hotter hearing this because I handed over
these anecdotes in the confidence
that they weren’t being met with a sneer
work is sunny on a Thursday
home is the feather pillow
home is a grey cat haven, the little ones
I call my best friends and the gentlest
beings I’ve ever met
(even some Buddhists have military backgrounds)
home is reading comic books in bed
as a reward as a mind expansion
and where
I dream and dream some more
and sometimes write
and think about writing
home is where I clean and the dust
incapacitates me for a good 4-5 hours
and I feel like my lungs
are going to give up
it will be all over
it will be all over
tea, someone, something
come to the rescue
of the precious breath
and breathe life into it

I want words to have my life in them. that is how I put out each word as a magazine or movie script, and each dilemma is not frozen food for the chowder bowls. I know you wanna break out of patterns, so you constantly have to ask yourself, over and over, how can I do it? the success of triumph over bone and flesh is asking the right questions and putting the pressure on them. asking a question as prayer? questions with intensity of prayer.

a choice
a decision a stone a rock a grabbing hand a pocket picked a grenade of the potent mind. a gene splice. a gravy over your mashed potatoes. happy children jumping rope in the courtyard. one falls, his mother screams at him: “Tyler, don’t fall down.” instructions from a well trained nurse. coffee shop banter better than water cooler tailored banter, I suppose. a day with sun and some rain and mountains hold steady hanging out, but move based on faith? writing as prayer. did not realize. yeah, writing, the movements, as prayer. something sublime and unseen in the navy beans.

inbox note

week of being swamped with work
memorizing poems in head
acquiring intense lower back pains
free massage man at co-op
advises I stretch more
“your cats are smarter than you, why?”
“because they stretch more,” I answer.

week of overtime
not getting to see movies I want to see
I’ve let studying go slack
but not for much longer

the beginner Quark class is simple simon
this summer I may take one class
and then just take it more easy

what else?
nothing else

. . .

wordpad: homeplate to describe juxtapose, Tron 2.0 for Mac, and Beastie Boys with their new album, Bad Brains to hit with theirs, shooting pains, rhythms, pep talks in headphones (not the white ones that signal iPod thieves), the AlphaGraphics chain, one with me in it, uptight businessmen that can’t spell or pronounce words longer than 5 letters, a stack of books come in the birthday mail. pronounced dead at birth, dead on arrival, archival, past lives, future lives, revealed by Dr. Bruce Goldberg sitting in front of me, Saturday morning meditation cancelled, monks to do a Mandala demo at Hollins while I am at work cursing under my breath wanting to be there to take pictures. I am there in my head now, beforehand. imagination rich, a tool, a power. reaching through different mind states not remembering some peoples’ names, scorning myself, cooking breakfast, scorched waffles yesterday morning, lying in bed sleeping strange 8pm-3am hours. I could be a fireman, a man with a latter to rescue cats from trees, color this into my scrap book and turn it in for an A when I grow up, when I grow up I want to be a policeman so I can have a gun, so I can shoot you – I told my Dad when I was quite young. shocked, appalled, he grounded me till I was 40. I’ve been crying in my room, playing Intellivision, for some time now.

today I thought about Sunday being such a good thing because it’s a day you have to yourself. I had it that way, for the most part. free time is like gold and gold is so valuable because it’s rare. I’m not King Midasing myself to death with free time. everything turns to time.

thinking much about a deliberate programing of the subconscious mind and learning the specifics of how all that works so that I can use it to my advantage. one thing is that, the sub c. is the memory area, has no ideals or set standards of morality. it acts more like a mirror. also, this area does seem to have some personality, because it comes up with its own creative solutions to things. you know how when you’re stumped with something, you decide to let go of it for a bit, relax, go on a walk, and all of a sudden the answer comes to you just like that? that’s your subconscious coming back to help you. “the name of the movie is on the tip of my tongue,” you say, “this is so frustrating. oh well, it’ll come to me later.”

we set most of the clocks forward, the ones that did not automatically set themselves. I woke up from a dream about there being one day a year where certain people would age two or three years forward in time, or backwards. this made things very difficult for them because they lived their lives with less of a sense of permanence. thought about writing this into a short story, but it didn’t pan out. at this point, this is where I set it down and move on.

now I’m drinking water to flow oxygen through body feeling gradually more tired by the minute. Sopranos: amazing episode tonight, probably the best of the season so far. Deadwood is getting better and better. news came over the weekend that Fox has cancelled Wonderfalls. no surprise there. Fox never really knew how to take care of their dramas, though this one, I hate to admit, didn’t do much for me. I really wanted to like it, but it just came off too stupid, like a Malcolm in the Middle episode or something. “all the networks suck,” said Casey. and this is true. except for HBO who hit with one great series after another. I made up the new Six Feet Under commercial, which goes like this: “In June, a new season– Smart people are psyched. Dumb people remain dumb.”

April is so far absolutely freezing. thanks a lot. I was enjoying March much more. windy as all hell. still I’m having a great time reading the Invisibles (graphic novel) and am experiencing it trip my mind out in psychedelic ways. I can’t wait to read more.

not bored at
all these days
tormented
maybe
mashed potatoes
with vegetarian gravy
her boyfriend
is released
from the army
comes back with
a tan sitting
there in the coffee shop
when we come in
welcome back,
I say, but
he must not
have heard me
they’re used
to people
yelling
I guess
which is just
one more reason
why I’ve
never gone
I’m throwing
out sticks
the Lab is
drooling all over them
and bringing them back
throw again throw again!
okay okay!
the drive was
long and sick and twisted
we were lost then
figured it out
and it was cool from there
a whole pen of beagle puppies
howling at us as
we came in on the gravel driveway
on the way out I rolled the window down
and howled at them which
was like pushing that first domino
little bibbys love to get spastic

68 news bits in the holding tank waiting like lies
collecting there with a set of bills some of
which not even stable on the frequency because
when it comes time to grab the pen you
realize “hey, I’ve already paid this one”
someone reach me the phone
talking sense into them
into the other end of the line
yes, sir
we will fix what we broke and
is there anything else we can do for you today?
yes, I could use some free movie tickets
or a microwave, or something like that.
anything for my trouble
because I could have read an entire
issue of the Invisibles by now
what’s that?

april flowers (mind branches)

good morning. I don’t know what exactly should be written down at the moment, but I’m sure I’ll think of something. yes, already: the mind is (here we go) like a computer, but different. let me explain. the computer filing system holds onto data in linear fashion; as long as the user can remember the name of the file last saved, a search is performed, and it is unchanged from its last inception. the user must be accurate, careful to remember that file name; if so, the past is within reach. the mind mind goes in many directions. information here is stored differently and triggered by various words, sounds, smells, etc. – therefore these associations spire out retrieving old info while at the same time instigating the new. a combination of the two and hard work put into further development of this bond of organic mind and digital is necessary at this stage in our evolution not as egomaniacs, but… it is up to us to transcend.

don’t forget the dirt roads. we have to remember the past, or admittedly what we know of the past, legend, myth, and live creatively, not roboticly, in the now of light switch flipping.

been writing poetry
on scraps and
will collect it for
a 2004 attack on
the mundane
fight mundane with
supra-mundane
eyes blighted blurry
a flare
for protection
spin your prayer wheels
for 2005, and all
things 2006 and 2007
and 8.