I have no never-again, I have no always. In the sand
victory abandoned its footprints.
I am a poor man willing to love his fellow men.
I don't know who you are. I love you. I don't give away thorns,
and I don't sell them.
Maybe someone will know that I didn't weave crowns
to draw blood; that I fought against mockery;
that I did fill the high tide of my soul with the truth.
I repaid vileness with doves.
I have no never, because I was different —
was, am, will be. And in the name
of my ever-changing love I proclaim a purity.
Death is only the stone of oblivion.
I love you, on your lips I kiss happiness itself.
Let's gather firewood. We'll light a fire on the mountain.
The little prince went away, to look again at the roses. “You’re not at all like my rose,” he said. “As yet you are nothing. No one has tamed you, and you have tamed no one. You’re like my fox when I first knew him. He was only a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But I have made a friend, and now he’s unique in all the world.” And the roses were very much embarrassed. “You’re beautiful, but you’re empty,” he went on. “One could not die for you. To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you –the rose that belongs to me. But in herself alone she’s more important than all the hundreds of you other roses : because it is she that I have watered ; because it is she that I have put under the glass globe ; because it is for her that I’ve killed the caterpillars (except the two or three we saved to become butterflies); because it is she that I have listened to, when she grumbled, or boasted, or even sometimes when she said nothing. Because she is MY rose.”
I’m off today, it’s actually peculiar how it got so ☀ warm out. There’s really no pattern to weather now, it does its own thing. One week it might feel like an arctic blast from Canada, the next it feels like a heat wave and premature onset of spring. The patterns of my youth, as recorded by my numerous journals I’d kept were much more stricter and predictive, to a fault. I could pluck out a particular date on the calendar and tell you precisely what the weather would/should/ought be like on any given Sunday for reals.
6am : made breakfast. Here is said breakfast, not my usual. I’m mostly coffee and maybe a scone or a croissant kinda guy, followed by a cup of tea and then a second cup of joe.
6:45am : I started rewatching LOTR on Netflix, because they decided to sneak it in there. There’s really not much hardly at all to watch nowadays, and I’m kind of glad to be honest. It frees me up to being more creative, productive, and focused on life, projects, and intellectually titillating pursuits like writing of course.
6:50am : shower power. My shower routine is rather simple : wash with axe body soap, shampoo, conditioner, then I use a almond body scrub followed by an exfoliating cleanser. Just joking ! Heh heh whenever I swim over mundane details it reminds me of this scene out of American Psycho :
7am : I let stoops go pee in the alley, then feed him. New neighbor some whiteboy named Dominick in apartment 2B is taking a smoke break on the back porch, Stoops is sniffing his nether regions like a nosy dog is prone to do. Later I did a quick swifter sweep of my dojo, it was getting quite ingratiated with his loose hair throughout. I’m researching for a more effective yet economical brand of dogfood right now. I want something that’s nutritious and healthy. Hard to determine these days. I hear many crazy stories about bad dog food with a ton of useless junk in it.
7:30 – 8 am : I’ve been in a creative slump lately, though I really want to start penning out some mad poetry and a few chapters in a book I’m planning to get published someday. I needed a good workout so I hit T-25, my personal trainer ShaunT. Actually I tend to use xbox fitness evolved, a cool kinnect workout game but it ceased functioning entirely. I like T-25, you get a decent workout and the moves are more condensed and fun than his Insanity series.
Working out with ShaunT
8am : took stoops to my preferred park of choice nearby.
stoops, my canine pal
Sea of Strangers by Lang Leav
9:30am Bought some thingies on Amazon, spending a $50 gift card somebody had bequeathed me over Christmas. I mostly just bought Japanese style notebooks/journals/pen/and a poetry book called „Sea of Strangers“ by Lang Leav. I was curious because this girl is trending in the literary world so I wanted to see how she wrote and such. The cover looks rather chick flickish, but I do remember perusing some of her work at Barnes, and it seemed solid. Though I must say I didn’t actually care for her book covers that look like oldschool type books and too colorful and gimmicky. However, I do support asian artistes.
11:45 am : Lunch
Lunch : simple blt and some Progresso lentil soup, with sparkling water and ruffles. I don’t always eat something that looks like it was made for Iron Chef.
12:00 pm : cup of coffee. Browsing online, wanted to get this rug for my dojo, it’s pretty expensive. Made in Nepal, hand woven, wool and bamboo silk. Alas someday.
Something I can’t afford right now, someday maybe 🙂 a nice hand woven rug made in Nepal.
12 – 1 : reading „Journal Sparks“ for self entertaining purposes. It’s actually a fun book, something of a mashup between writing ideas for your journal and artschool 101. These are pretty fun sometimes, gives you something to do such as doodling and practicing creativity so that it becomes less of a dormant intellectual brainfart and more hands on.
1 – 2:30pm : I crashed, took a powernap. I dreamed I was having lunch at Hooters in Tokyo when several Yakuza were holding up the place, acting all gangsta. I took them out with my moves, and team Tokyo girls were cheering me on. Yes, I was having a guy moment here, the hero of my own story, who wins the day. Then just after, a group of very mean white boy jocks who hate asian guys came in as well, and started oogling the Japanese girls with „Hey baby, me love you long time!“. I told them to take a hike and they all surrounded me intent on teaching me a very vivid lesson, one I wouldn’t soon forget. Yet instead of a bloody massacre I went into bullet time. Fast forward I had them all laid out on the ground. “Don’t let me see you punks in here again, now scram, beat it!”
I must say I looked rather cool, my kung fu is excellent.
I was being a bum throughout the day, it’s a day off after all. Played chess on chess.com, browsed a bit, trying to yank some fresh poetics out of me. You can’t rush genius, son. It takes time, I have to deconstruct and reconstruct, I have to do research, and get into genius mode.
5:20pm : sushi for dinner, I haven’t had it in quite some time.
There are markers from my deep past That contained a fragment of me Which seems to have been purged From life’s browser history
I walk down Oak street, enamored by the wannabe Parsian shoppes and the faded glamour of the 1980’s When American’s were prestigious and wealthy transfixed by the glittery, beautiful lights of life
Throughout my 20’s I had a peculiar habit of partying in hotels With friends, not your average ones, but ones with faded antiquity That reminded me of the rich histories and glorious fanciful sophisticates Who did it with class and style that’s no longer
Montrose beach, along the lakefront Dad and older sister used to take me there, just to enjoy Simple serenity, and basking in the moment moments entwined in the double helix of my timeline
Dad cruising like a big olé pyiamp down lake shore drive On his way into the office of Lester B. Knight The high rises that spoke about worlds of infinite possibilities I wanted to live like the Jeffersons
My familia’s su casa, the ancestral estate on a street called Dover, Was the U.S.S. Enterprise of my youth, a castle of bright lights and harrowing melancholies Imagine a vessel that was saturated with the entirety of your existence
I missed the esquire theater on Oak, where I first saw Return of the Jedi. Also the one in Water Tower, where I went on my first date, and had my first Official ‘date’ kiss,
I cannot exclude Marshall Fields on State street Mother would drive me crazy spending the entire day there Not buying a single thing ! It’s Xmas eve You’re driving me absolutely crazy
And Ryan’s restaurant, Moms and me would enjoy meals together Warm hearted, kind waitresses with hearts of gold That thought me so adorable Stuffed flounder, delicioso,
1. Compliance : Mesmerizing movie that depicts the crazy happenings that took place at a Chick-fil-et chain in California during the 90’s. Psychological thriller that shows how gullible, naïve, and susceptible some people are under the weight of a seemingly legit authority figure.
2. Sideways : always a classic, unpretentious comedy that’s based on a roadtrip to Sonoma/Napa Valley and centers around wine. There’s rarely a movie like this that’s funny and amusing at the same time and has to do with wine snobs.
3. Coherence : A very cleverely wrought sci fi movie that shows how amazing story can bring to life even the lowliest budget indie movies.
4. All the Money in the World : Fortunately, Kevin Spacey was replaced with the talented Christopher Plummer. Painful watching Wahlberg’s piss performance in comparison to his co-stars who easily outshine and outclass him (Plummer and Michelle Williams ). Most comedic scene was watching Wahlberg trying to diss the brilliant actor Plummer with some lame sounding lines that tried to sound machisimo and cavalier, lol.
5. Margin Call : live in the few days just prior to the global meltdown and get a glimpse of the Wallstreet yuppies who effected said meltdown and their version of how things went down.
6. The Way Back : This is simply a survivalist movie that feels like a long roadtrip by foot through beautiful lands you will almost never really visit willingly. Ed Harris and Colin Ferrel.
7. Naked Weapon : A secret modeling agency of female freelance assassins, Maggie Q, cheesy story, and equally cheesy romance. Feels like Battle Royale meets La Femme Nakita. I love Hong Kong cheesy asian films, they’re pretty tight. Pretty girls, cheesy bad acting, bastardization of plot lines (Battle Royale meets La Femme Nikita) makes for fun filled entertainment.
8. Batman trilogy (Christopher Nolan series). In all honesty, I don’t think any director is going to topple these in the visual storytelling department. Yeah, sometimes it does feel like the action sequences are so lethargic I want to fall asleep, but they still nail the essence of the Dark Knight perfectly, and that’s hard to do. I think we’re all just so damned spoiled that many simply took it for granted that Nolan made some very good cinema in this trilogy.
9. Bladerunner 2040 : Once again, I think we’re just a spoiled culture that can overlook and yawn at this, as if it was mediocre cinematic fare. Yet all the „fanboys“ out there in so called nerd world are all harping on about The Last Jedi like it’s the end all be all.
10. The Visitor : A cute, simple, and straight forward story with a humanistic aspect, very fun movie with stellar acting.
11. The Lives of Others : This is a brilliant and beautiful film, taking place is post era WW2 when the socialists were running things in Germany. It shows how we can all be transformed by learning and spying on people we wish we knew in reality, people we wish were our actual friends.
“SOLIDAO, LONELINESS. What is it that we call loneliness. It can’t simply be the absence of others, you can be alone and not lonely, and you can be among people and yet be lonely. So what is it ? … it isn’t only that others are there, that they fill up the space next to us. But even when they celebrate us or give advice in a friendly conversation, clever, sensitive advice : even then we can be lonely. So loneliness is not something simply connected with the presence of others or with what they do. Then what ? What on earth?”
I’m riding the brown line from Albany Park to The Mart.
The ride itself is a bit meditative, everybody in my lcar is absorbed in their devices, you could hear a mouse fart. Sometimes, you do get the occasional person who feels the express need to express themselves and broadcast their conversations about nothing at all, actually. I idly wonder what would it be like to steal fragments of these intrusive conversations and piecemeal them into a sound byte, just for the sake of self entertainment. Then, I’m not that motivated to squander the energy in doing silly thingies like I once used to be, so interactive with my surrounding environment. In a world of digital distraction, reality does provide for cheap endless entertainment when one looks and observes the world around them.
The clocktower I would always hike to when I was a young pup.
When I pass this clock tower, I’m reminded of my youth. I would journey to Ravenswood avenue and hike along the metra tracks looking like one of the boys from the movie Stand by me, and this clock tower would be my stopping point. I used to think it was so terribly far from my home, and it was the most visible place you could see visually. It’s funny how some places are saturated by a moment of our own timelines, and we forget these things. Take them for granted, scarcely realizing that someday, we will look back and realize we were in those places, we lived a part of our existence in them, they symbolized a place in ourselves. I saw my young pup self, an imprint from my fractured memory hiking along, having fun being on an ‘adventure’, an intrepid urban adventurer looking to discover something lost or valuable in hidden places.
Right now I’m reading : Mortal Trash by Kim Addonizio. Sometimes I do dig her work, and a few poems I found were replete with allusions to past experiences and blunders, triumphs, and ennui from life. Of course these are powerful shaper’s of ourselves, since they were things we partook in, like a play and we the actors in the theater of minds. I realize this now, that I’m in a place I neither wish to be in, from, or associated with, but rather in some other world entirely. Yet I suppose not learning and knowing of such places helps, for when I arrive I don’t want to feel like I’ve arrived, or I’ve been there my entire life before even having stepped foot on its soil. Yet I didn’t find her work as ‘me’ as Richard Silken (who wrote ‘War of the Foxes’). There was a way in which he flowed and detailed his poems that resonated with me. It was clean, descriptive, and beautiful, a touch of melancholy and a smattering of cunning.
I ran stoops this morning at the park, he was quite happy. Lately it’s been too arctic cold to even venture much farther than I ordinarily would like. I was able to cast the ball yesterday as well so he’s going to sleep in good today while I’m at work. I see my friend Amra at The Mart now, she’s such a sweet Bosnian girl, and I made friends with her and her husband just from walking stoops at Eugene field so much. I also befriended my neighbors Angela and her son Chris, who sometimes dogsit stoops for me when I go on road trips. I took a liking to the kid, he’s an honor roll student and takes his studies seriously. I was mentoring him for a spell, until his moms tried making me his free tutor/babysitter. Funny how some people try to take a mile when you give them an inch. I wonder to myself what would happen if I asked them a favor or leaned on them expecting their help with this or that ? They might for a little while.
I gave the neighbors upstairs in unit 3B some last minute gifts. This sweet woman named Paris I gave a Japanese style notebook I got from Kinokuniya at Matsuwa marketplace, and her son a book : How to Draw Almost Anything. Small, neighborly gifts, I like to think that they enjoyed them. Every now and again, I like practicing random acts of niceness if only to brighten up somebodies existence. Restoration in humanity starts with giving, not always receiving and waiting for others to initiate life.
I have volumes of journals, sketchbooks, notebooks that are dying for me to bleed ink all over the blank pages. These days I seem to be too busy, preoccupied, I have to exhaust myself to the fullest just to make it another day. My world is such like a finely tuned precision orchestra, one wrong wave from the conductor can send my performance into full disaster mode, and unlike in IT there’s no disaster recovery from that. One instrument fails, they all do, as one. Sync or swim.
I took this shot right before true winter had come. I like nature, if only for solitude and tranquility it imparts in all of us, when we can come to the silent understanding we are mere mortal creatures and very finite ones. I like to imagine it would take us to places we secretly wish we were in, another time, another place, a place that defies our expectations. Places that withstood time and were saturated with faded memories of past storytellers.
The road beckons us to follow it, not with fear or trepidation but in awe and wonder, where will it take us ? And to leave our silly anxieties and fears behind, which are obstacles toward love and knowledge, and life in general.
I stopped to consider things, life, ideas, wayward thoughts, ruminations of my own soul.
It’s always this time of year that I get in a reflective, contemplative mode, thinking about the year which had past, how much and how little transpired under the sun. My heartaches, my silent suffering, longings. I came to a point in life where certain things weren’t important anymore, and what I once thought was crucial and heavy, actually wasn’t. We just infuse details of our existence with a type of artificial aliveness, we want to live in the nook and cranny of our hidden worlds, imaginings, and some are perma lost in them. The lotus eaters that are so far gone the only way they can be plucked out of the quagmire of themselves is some sort of calamity, something powerful enough to disrupt themselves from themselves.
I think I found myself there at one point. Existing simply to exist, without purpose, only a vampire who kept feeding his remorseless appetites, vying for dominance and the dreams of excess we all have. Never fully comprehending the woes and suffering that were went hand in hand with the religion of selfishness. I’ve since unprogrammed myself from being a slave to myself, to limiting myself in such a way that the only point for my being is for me first, all others last. Most of my gender are hard-wired as such, as a kind of false security blanket. The model of this is „If I just have enough materially, the whole nine yards of beautiful house, beautiful ride, beautiful bank account, beautiful significant other, then I will be complete and untouchable not needing anything much at all ! Just upgrade, like I’m a SIM living life as a SIM.
The trap is subtle and almost artistically genius, this rat race paradigm that culture promotes and pushes. You can write a library of books that educates, informs, and illuminates the many negative aspects of it but ultimately people’s laziness and ignorance will prevail over wisdom, and a different school of thought. As much as we are all intelligent beings, intelligence is invariably only a component of life. There are so many other powerful, equally as vital aspects to life. After all a IQ of 170 might simply land you a job at Starbucks or as a custodial engineer for Playboy, but not necessarily at Google or the NSA. Charm matters, personable likeness matters, emotional IQ matters.
So lately I’ve begun a fast, not the trendy kind to suffer for the sake of vanity, as if the ends justified the means. Rather :
from criticizing/disparaging others
from spending frivolously
from excess materialism
from road rage
you’ll find how near impossible it is simply to go through your day without feeling negative about a thing, which requires a great deal of discipline. Or simply to speak positive and enter a purposely positive frame of mind, and not have it shatter or be fractured on account of one individual who seeks to disrupt your plans. I have too many character quirks (flaws) of my own to contend with, so what right have I to accentuate, highlight, and point out others just to feed the false sense of superiority others deceive themselves with ? It might as well be criticizing others for being different, unique, and let’s face it all of this need to do so stems from envy, pure and simple.
We give thanks for the darkness of the night where lies the world of dreams. Guide us closer to our dreams so that we may be nourished by them. Give us good dreams and memory of them so that we may carry their poetry and mystery into our daily lives. Grant us deep and restful sleep that we may wake refreshed with strength enough to renew a world grown tired. We give thanks for the inspiration of stars, the dignity of the moon and the lullabies of crickets and frogs. Let us restore the night and reclaim it as a sactuary of peace, where silence shall be music to our hearts and darkness shall throw light upon our souls. Good night. Sweet dreams.
This new year wasn’t entirely grandiose, in fact you might just say it was quiet and lackluster. Compared to my glory heydays which were always spent in some lavish decadence (that costed me heavily monetarily wise), followed by the predictable week of recovery to alleviate the delirium of a monstrous hangover. And for what ? There was no reward, only a kind of needless suffering brought on by myself, add to the physical recovery a recovery of lost wages to add insult to self inflicted injury.
I’m working on my book now, it’s always a fun kind of daunting task to rip pages out of yourself, piece the words together into chapters, hammering and chiseling, purifying and perfecting, trying to breathe aliveness into things. I’m writing what I myself would like to read. Right now it’s going to be an fantasy novel, think Game of Thrones but far less Machiavellian, but more geared toward high adventure, intrigues, plots, love affairs, and some life lessons. My hope and intent is to illustrate that evil isn’t as sexy as our culture would dupe people into thinking. When we have a culture that accentuates hopelessness, an adoration of ugliness, and a depressive state what is there to nourish our own souls ? We wonder why the world is so beautifully messed up ? Mystery solved, there’s very little to sustain the succor of our own souls, and it’s clearly evident wherever you look. No source of uplift, compassion, empathy, life. We glorify and magnify entirely negative attributes, extolling them as being virtues. Imagine that, we are making bad things seem like good and wonder in shock and horror that the bad detonates all around us !
Am I saying we need to walk around like we’ve been molested by a carebear ? Maybe 🙂 yet what I’m really saying is that it’s not always about us, other people go through storms and seasons also, and well not everybody has to be a homeless person or an African child in order for us to offer a kind word, a simple hello, not to seem like some sort of do gooder enhanced human from the DC universe. How much more we each learn and discover our own true power, beauty, and identity when we purposely affect another person, even in the most subtle and sly ways (in good ways, not hustling them heh heh). I tell you, it’s me who is rewarded, really.