once again the internet has proven itself to be entirely uninspiring and completely alienated/ing from real life. lil boosie, afghanistan, tagged photos, google earth, g20, blah blah blah etc, not to mention the extreme vanity that comes with any of these things these websites and the struggle that i end up in trying to stay real with all this s(t)imulation. i have thrown away whole days.
highlight of thanksgiving was my sister saying "fuck" to my dad, but accidentally. this was the first recorded use of the word "fuck" by either child infront of either parent. well, this is not counting the time mom ignored/didn't hear me say "fuck" to jean on the phone when mom and i were driving the oregon coast.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Sunday, October 18, 2009
a star has no intent. a galaxy does not act in order to bring about anything.
if you google "25 years old" the third thing that comes up is a story about a fit and healthy 25 year old collapsing and dying in front of his girlfriend while playing the nintendo wii.
i have told people (like my dad via voicemail) that my life is spinning wildly out of control in just the day i intended it to.
i believe that i have made the 2010 Missoula Oblongata "Reference List of Experts". this is the pinnacle of my punk career.
i've been weighing the merits of various character traits i am pottentially capable of and i think the year 25, in an effort to transition more smoothly from the personal growths i've had in my 24th year, i've been thinking i should focus on working to be more A) HUMBLE and B) CONFIDENT.
travel plans: 3 more weeks in oregon. week in santa fe. 2 and a half weeks in dc. week in santa fe. 3 weeks in central america/southern mexico. week in santa fe? month in mexico. THERE. WILL I STICK TO THIS? MOST LIKELY AT LEAST A LOT OF IT.
i believe we could all gain an inch or two of joy if we'd just every now and again peruse the wikipedia page on "misnomers". . . guinea pigs. not pigs. not from guinea. of course: peanuts (legumes), shooting stars (meteors), iceland (green), and french horns (germany). eggplants. not eggs. tear gas. not a gas (!!!) but a "solid crystalline substance" (again, !!!). In logic, "begging the question" is a type of fallacy occurring in deductive reasoning in which the proposition to be proved is assumed implicitly or explicitly in one of the premises. However, more recently, "begs the question" has been used as a synonym for "raises the question". THE FUNNY BONE IS THE ULNAR NERVE. shit is loco.
GOD DOESN'T LIVE BECAUSE HE CAN'T DIE. THIS IS WHY HE DOESN'T KNOW OR LOVE YOU.
after my bout with swine flu i'm feeling like life is totally grabbable. now, which end to grab. . .
i have told people (like my dad via voicemail) that my life is spinning wildly out of control in just the day i intended it to.
i believe that i have made the 2010 Missoula Oblongata "Reference List of Experts". this is the pinnacle of my punk career.
i've been weighing the merits of various character traits i am pottentially capable of and i think the year 25, in an effort to transition more smoothly from the personal growths i've had in my 24th year, i've been thinking i should focus on working to be more A) HUMBLE and B) CONFIDENT.
travel plans: 3 more weeks in oregon. week in santa fe. 2 and a half weeks in dc. week in santa fe. 3 weeks in central america/southern mexico. week in santa fe? month in mexico. THERE. WILL I STICK TO THIS? MOST LIKELY AT LEAST A LOT OF IT.
i believe we could all gain an inch or two of joy if we'd just every now and again peruse the wikipedia page on "misnomers". . . guinea pigs. not pigs. not from guinea. of course: peanuts (legumes), shooting stars (meteors), iceland (green), and french horns (germany). eggplants. not eggs. tear gas. not a gas (!!!) but a "solid crystalline substance" (again, !!!). In logic, "begging the question" is a type of fallacy occurring in deductive reasoning in which the proposition to be proved is assumed implicitly or explicitly in one of the premises. However, more recently, "begs the question" has been used as a synonym for "raises the question". THE FUNNY BONE IS THE ULNAR NERVE. shit is loco.
GOD DOESN'T LIVE BECAUSE HE CAN'T DIE. THIS IS WHY HE DOESN'T KNOW OR LOVE YOU.
after my bout with swine flu i'm feeling like life is totally grabbable. now, which end to grab. . .
Sunday, May 31, 2009
a brief and certainly underdeveloped meditation on the relationship between technology and local cultures
jean was just telling me about how in michigan in the winter at her high school, people used to put wet paper towels over the sensors (thermometers) of the heaters so that they would blast heat all day. local wisdom in the 1990's. what does progress mean? better heaters (that won't need such "old-timey" adjustments) will make every room (all over the world) 75 degrees, all of the time. but what changes will that bring for michigan high schoolers? if people adapt their behaviours (as well as thoughts, emotions, relations,. . . culture) to meet their needs, how does the growing number of people who end up with the same needs affect the future of cultures globally? we all still have seperate individual experiences, genetic predispositions, and contact with (relatively) limited clusters of people. . . so?
she's the devil in disguise
still drawing 3 balled dicks, but these days with a marxist theory of love in mind. friends in and out. pain and joy. jokes. love. distance again. "mom and dad" are gone but mom's visiting in a week.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Sunday, April 26, 2009
being is becoming/there is no "away"
a few nights ago i dreamed that my penis was a hoe, or rather, it could be used as one. i fucked the dry earth, in rows, in order to clear the garden of all the unwanted weeds. now what do you suppose this means?
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Friday, April 17, 2009
please tell me how to get my zen on
lately i have been experiencing my very strong tendency to not let go of shit. i've been working on being small, being meek, being completely reactionless. this, it turns out, is a lot harder for me than i had generally assumed, before i got out here. have you ever tried to not defend yourself when you felt attacked? its turning out to be quite the difficult challenge.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
post war animation
dirty fucked up hands. blisters, scratches, scrapes. too many scars to count and beginning to lose count of the gashes and cuts that will become scars before long. dirt stains. dirt in the creases of my knuckles probly not gonna come out till november. scratchy stiff and sore. infected. and swollen. and bruised. tired.
the days have been diverse, but still tied together on one thematic string. work and food and movement and rest. my eyes get heavy at about the same time more or less give or take every night, 7:30. my eyes open up at about the same time more or less give or take every morning, 6. between this time i have been trying to stay focused on knowing what's happening, but its pretty vague, though i know its something, yes something's definitely happening cause i'm waking up every day, every morning so bright and early, with very distinct emotions flooding every pore of my skin, i can feel them in my joints when my bones begin to move up and up and up and out. everything seems cloudy and i don't really know what's been happening at all, but certainly i know because i can feel it i can actually physically feel it so purely, i know somethings been happening. so i'm working on that. once i've put all the effort and energy into that i move on to consume some carbohydrates, some protien, and maybe some nutrients. sometimes coffee. sometimes tea. sometimes i stay sleepy for a while longer until the crisp and frosty air stings my lungs and the bald spot behind my ears. until the thawing sun is warm enough to melt away the pain of all ten frozen fingertips or rather both whole hands, as well as all ten frozen toes or sometimes even both whole feet which are more often than not inside of shoes that are still wet from the gobs of saved up and also frozen mud. in the brisk mountain mornings, apendages tend feel more like the lifeless rocks i've been trying so damned hard to dig out of the soil of the gopher beds i made.
usually about noon, if i'm working alone on a project that doesn't require total attention, like cutting small strips of wood (stickers) on the table saw (one of the most frightening and disturbingly violent machines i've ever encountered), i start to think about lots of things. i'd say i try to think mostly about patience, about acceptance, about being humbled. sometimes i think about the past, and sometimes i think about the future, but mostly i try to stay thinking about what's right now. i think about theoretical worlds, like, what would it look like if this thing were this way instead of that. i think about the goats and how i'm starting to really like them, especially louie cause he's got a mohawk black stripe and he's always trying to break free and he's also always the one to be jumping around goofing off and doing funny moves and making funny faces and he doesn't wine that much but he'll get loud if he wants to. i think about the weather. i think about the time. i think a lot about my hands.
the days have been diverse, but still tied together on one thematic string. work and food and movement and rest. my eyes get heavy at about the same time more or less give or take every night, 7:30. my eyes open up at about the same time more or less give or take every morning, 6. between this time i have been trying to stay focused on knowing what's happening, but its pretty vague, though i know its something, yes something's definitely happening cause i'm waking up every day, every morning so bright and early, with very distinct emotions flooding every pore of my skin, i can feel them in my joints when my bones begin to move up and up and up and out. everything seems cloudy and i don't really know what's been happening at all, but certainly i know because i can feel it i can actually physically feel it so purely, i know somethings been happening. so i'm working on that. once i've put all the effort and energy into that i move on to consume some carbohydrates, some protien, and maybe some nutrients. sometimes coffee. sometimes tea. sometimes i stay sleepy for a while longer until the crisp and frosty air stings my lungs and the bald spot behind my ears. until the thawing sun is warm enough to melt away the pain of all ten frozen fingertips or rather both whole hands, as well as all ten frozen toes or sometimes even both whole feet which are more often than not inside of shoes that are still wet from the gobs of saved up and also frozen mud. in the brisk mountain mornings, apendages tend feel more like the lifeless rocks i've been trying so damned hard to dig out of the soil of the gopher beds i made.
usually about noon, if i'm working alone on a project that doesn't require total attention, like cutting small strips of wood (stickers) on the table saw (one of the most frightening and disturbingly violent machines i've ever encountered), i start to think about lots of things. i'd say i try to think mostly about patience, about acceptance, about being humbled. sometimes i think about the past, and sometimes i think about the future, but mostly i try to stay thinking about what's right now. i think about theoretical worlds, like, what would it look like if this thing were this way instead of that. i think about the goats and how i'm starting to really like them, especially louie cause he's got a mohawk black stripe and he's always trying to break free and he's also always the one to be jumping around goofing off and doing funny moves and making funny faces and he doesn't wine that much but he'll get loud if he wants to. i think about the weather. i think about the time. i think a lot about my hands.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
at 9:14 pm this evening, tuesday, march 24th, i began a long and arduous process of attempting to communicate on a "large scale" to all you dear friends, knowing that you're spending the majority (if not all) of your free time sitting by your computer repeatedly pressing the refresh button on the flipflap bloggydoogle in a frantic swirl of anticipation, awaiting the next entry. i sat down at the computer that sits before me now, swirlyed the mouse to awake the computer, opened up internet explorer (already logged on to the "high speed" net zero dial up service), typed in flipflapflimflam.blogspot.com, clicked "sign in", typed my user name and password in the entry boxes, clicked enter, then clicked the "new post" button, then typed up to now. and i type fast. and obviously this paragraph hasn't taken much thought or effort. the time is now 9:36 pm, tuesday, march 24th. 20 minutes to open up 4 web pages. oh my god, i am living in the stone age. (this is my excuse for lately being so absent on this here bloggydoodle)
i've spent a week and a half at this here wilding farm and education center in the (christina) applegate valley of southwestern oregon. most of the time has been spent struggling to find myself in a sea of new faces, most of which, actually no, all of which, intimidate the shit out of me. life out here is so incomprehensibly different from the life i'd been living, while obviously being the same life all along. i've planted trees and plants. i've dug and watered, hammered, nailed, sawed. pitchforked straw, chopped firewood, cooked up some mighty tasty but not too new mexican pumpkin black bean enchiladas. i've met 30 new people, lost to 2 of them at scrabble, told jokes to several, and lived in very close proximity with 3 others, eating breakfast lunch and dinner together inside "the buckhouse", a beat up old trailer that serves as the main communal space, as well as working with each of the three on various projects throughout each and every day. i've learned about the natural ecosystem, what plants are what, how old the trees are. i've learned the history of man in these parts, from the miners in the mid 19th century, to the on the lamb ecoactivists who hid out here while being chased by the feds. i've ate well. i've done situps and pushups every night before bed and every morning when i wake. i've even held 2 day old baby goats in my arms, and eagerly awaited the arrival of an estimated 40 more. most importantly though, i've been pooping in a homemade wooden hut 15 feet off the ground into a 55 gallon bucket that sits below, 3/4 full of piss and shit from the past 5 months of wilding human waste production. what a life!
i've been missing people so much, and not that i didn't miss them or you before, not that the pain was even any less acute and blinding. its different now, knowing the time commitment i'm making to not seeing anyone for a long long time, and living a rural farm life that doesn't really provide a wole lot of distracting stimuli, not to mention the extremely limited access to even the most rudimentary (internet) modes of communication. its ok though. i think my fear was that things would change, even though in times of clarity, which lately seems like any time outside of this week, i knew they wouldn't. i wasn't going to let them, but i told myself when the fear that things were going to change first crept in 10 days ago, that i'd give it a week, and if i still was feeling an oncoming shift away from the people i love, that i couldn't do this internship, it just wouldn't be worth it. i'm realizing, with the time that's passed, and the love in my heart for them all and you all that's still just as strong, that its gonna be alright. that its a couple of months. big fucking deal, really. i mean, big fucking deal, yes, it really is, but also, in the grand scale of all things, a couple of months away at this developmental stage in my life will be fine. i love that i have relationships that are strong enough, that i know are strong enough, to weather just about any storm that comes, even if that's a HUGE amount of time apart.
this is me saying i can't wait to see you. and by that meaning holy shit! we're gonna see eachother again and i'm so fucking excited about that and it tears me up that its been so long it really does but the way that i feel about you hasn't changed and won't change, ever, like EVER, and you need to know this that you are in my heart that you are in my thoughts every single day even though i have a hard time expressing this and you may even be questioning my conviction cause surely i never expressed any of these feelings before but if that's true it surely i assure you is because sometimes i hold these thoughts inside because something in me won't let me fully tell you honestly and openly how much i care about you and need you in my life because of social fucking rules about being this honest or maybe with some people its fear that you won't feel the same way or maybe its a fear that i don't want to drag you into something that ultimately you don't really want to be a part of even if you don't know it now but really and truly "i can't wait to see you" means that i want to be near you so badly that when we finally fucking get to be together again after so god damned long my heart will be exploding into little bits and pieces that thank god will be wrapped behind bones and flesh cause the process would surely put an eye out and if this process is communicated via flaky manicness where i'm so excited you think i'm faking it and i even question it because the voice that comes out is too much for me to control or it may be communicated by somber "hi"s and "hello"s where i'm hiding back my emotion, or for whatever reason its not just said, who knows. this is me saying i love you.
i've spent a week and a half at this here wilding farm and education center in the (christina) applegate valley of southwestern oregon. most of the time has been spent struggling to find myself in a sea of new faces, most of which, actually no, all of which, intimidate the shit out of me. life out here is so incomprehensibly different from the life i'd been living, while obviously being the same life all along. i've planted trees and plants. i've dug and watered, hammered, nailed, sawed. pitchforked straw, chopped firewood, cooked up some mighty tasty but not too new mexican pumpkin black bean enchiladas. i've met 30 new people, lost to 2 of them at scrabble, told jokes to several, and lived in very close proximity with 3 others, eating breakfast lunch and dinner together inside "the buckhouse", a beat up old trailer that serves as the main communal space, as well as working with each of the three on various projects throughout each and every day. i've learned about the natural ecosystem, what plants are what, how old the trees are. i've learned the history of man in these parts, from the miners in the mid 19th century, to the on the lamb ecoactivists who hid out here while being chased by the feds. i've ate well. i've done situps and pushups every night before bed and every morning when i wake. i've even held 2 day old baby goats in my arms, and eagerly awaited the arrival of an estimated 40 more. most importantly though, i've been pooping in a homemade wooden hut 15 feet off the ground into a 55 gallon bucket that sits below, 3/4 full of piss and shit from the past 5 months of wilding human waste production. what a life!
i've been missing people so much, and not that i didn't miss them or you before, not that the pain was even any less acute and blinding. its different now, knowing the time commitment i'm making to not seeing anyone for a long long time, and living a rural farm life that doesn't really provide a wole lot of distracting stimuli, not to mention the extremely limited access to even the most rudimentary (internet) modes of communication. its ok though. i think my fear was that things would change, even though in times of clarity, which lately seems like any time outside of this week, i knew they wouldn't. i wasn't going to let them, but i told myself when the fear that things were going to change first crept in 10 days ago, that i'd give it a week, and if i still was feeling an oncoming shift away from the people i love, that i couldn't do this internship, it just wouldn't be worth it. i'm realizing, with the time that's passed, and the love in my heart for them all and you all that's still just as strong, that its gonna be alright. that its a couple of months. big fucking deal, really. i mean, big fucking deal, yes, it really is, but also, in the grand scale of all things, a couple of months away at this developmental stage in my life will be fine. i love that i have relationships that are strong enough, that i know are strong enough, to weather just about any storm that comes, even if that's a HUGE amount of time apart.
this is me saying i can't wait to see you. and by that meaning holy shit! we're gonna see eachother again and i'm so fucking excited about that and it tears me up that its been so long it really does but the way that i feel about you hasn't changed and won't change, ever, like EVER, and you need to know this that you are in my heart that you are in my thoughts every single day even though i have a hard time expressing this and you may even be questioning my conviction cause surely i never expressed any of these feelings before but if that's true it surely i assure you is because sometimes i hold these thoughts inside because something in me won't let me fully tell you honestly and openly how much i care about you and need you in my life because of social fucking rules about being this honest or maybe with some people its fear that you won't feel the same way or maybe its a fear that i don't want to drag you into something that ultimately you don't really want to be a part of even if you don't know it now but really and truly "i can't wait to see you" means that i want to be near you so badly that when we finally fucking get to be together again after so god damned long my heart will be exploding into little bits and pieces that thank god will be wrapped behind bones and flesh cause the process would surely put an eye out and if this process is communicated via flaky manicness where i'm so excited you think i'm faking it and i even question it because the voice that comes out is too much for me to control or it may be communicated by somber "hi"s and "hello"s where i'm hiding back my emotion, or for whatever reason its not just said, who knows. this is me saying i love you.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
AFGO another.fucking.growth.opportunity
i am now at a farm in very rural but not so isolated southern oregon. i plan on living here for some time. my only mode of communication is dial up internet. beraddaytimeparty@gmail.com is my email address. scared, vulnerable, lonely, regretful, are some feelings i've been having, but mostly, i've been totally fucking excited.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
snacks demo v 3.0
for so long i left my position of power in this society unquestioned, ignored the privileges i've been granted. upon becoming concious of these phenomena, my initial reaction was guilt and shame, the construction of a self loathing persona, and a valuing of "victimhood". for so long i had been attracted to the role of victim, placing that label upon myself with even the slightest of justifications. never questioning why, or how, or even what it meant.
lately there's been a question of the validity of my labeling certain moments of "trauma" as anything more than an acute awakening to, or clarity/awareness of, the position of power i hold in my relation to society. contesting any and all identifications i may have with the role of victim. questioning the classification of events in my life as "injurious", rather than simply as disruptions to expectations, inversions of the dynamics that i am used to. are the stories i tell myself simply self imposed fabrications of victimhood used as a defense, an effort to escape the guilt of my position? am i using it to avoid actively challenging my place in a structure that categorizes humans based on generalized characteristics, creates distinctions between those generalized categories, and grants certain distinguished groups within these categories the advantages of assumed values and traits(innocence, skill, worth, etc.) while other groups generally are denied or lack these character assumptions? can an able-bodied, affluent, straight, white, male ever legitimate any "percieved" injury to himself?
all this questioning just leads to further self loathing and guilt, paralyzing me and forcing me into a place of theorizing and non-action, right? no. doubting and ctritiquing my thoughts and actions is not about digging for reasons to hate myself, it is instead, a process of creating counter-stories to all the things i've let myself believe for so long. this creation is not about replacing one "truth" with another, but rather, it is a tool. in the act of juggling strories and counter stories, the recognition of this contestation of facts has the affect of making their nature, as "stories", increasingly apparent. the process of generalized story-building altogether is thus made apparent, and at this point, its limitations are able to be transcended.
without a need to produce more stories, action is now possible.
the only question that remains is "what do i need to heal?".
lately there's been a question of the validity of my labeling certain moments of "trauma" as anything more than an acute awakening to, or clarity/awareness of, the position of power i hold in my relation to society. contesting any and all identifications i may have with the role of victim. questioning the classification of events in my life as "injurious", rather than simply as disruptions to expectations, inversions of the dynamics that i am used to. are the stories i tell myself simply self imposed fabrications of victimhood used as a defense, an effort to escape the guilt of my position? am i using it to avoid actively challenging my place in a structure that categorizes humans based on generalized characteristics, creates distinctions between those generalized categories, and grants certain distinguished groups within these categories the advantages of assumed values and traits(innocence, skill, worth, etc.) while other groups generally are denied or lack these character assumptions? can an able-bodied, affluent, straight, white, male ever legitimate any "percieved" injury to himself?
all this questioning just leads to further self loathing and guilt, paralyzing me and forcing me into a place of theorizing and non-action, right? no. doubting and ctritiquing my thoughts and actions is not about digging for reasons to hate myself, it is instead, a process of creating counter-stories to all the things i've let myself believe for so long. this creation is not about replacing one "truth" with another, but rather, it is a tool. in the act of juggling strories and counter stories, the recognition of this contestation of facts has the affect of making their nature, as "stories", increasingly apparent. the process of generalized story-building altogether is thus made apparent, and at this point, its limitations are able to be transcended.
without a need to produce more stories, action is now possible.
the only question that remains is "what do i need to heal?".
Saturday, March 7, 2009
people put some crazy toppings on a pizza
i am still quite alive.
my portland in five words:
sleeping in, eating little debbies.
walking ten miles, every day.
my portland in five words:
sleeping in, eating little debbies.
walking ten miles, every day.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
420505PIZZIAPIZZIAPIZZIA (SEE: drawings of three balled dicks, dirty pictures, and being taken aback)
in what just may be the last blog i will ever write in san francisco, i will describe in very little detail what was, a mere 2 minutes ago, transpiring:
-missing friends so fucking much i almost can't take it. wishing i had never signed up for a facebook account knowing i'll spend (as i already have) way too much time looking at other people's pictures and wishing i was in them and instead of pictures they were actually reality and also happening right now. missing friends so bad, oh my god.
-in an effort to distract myself, i've been watching as many micheal jordan and ken griffey jr. highlight reels as possible, which would be working, if only the load times weren't so damned slow.
sunday i am leaving for portland, which i am very excited about, for reasons like: a) getting to hang out with all the gazillion friends that i love a whole lot that live there, and b) i can't really think of any other reasons why i am or would or should or could be excited about going to portland, though certainly that should in no way detract from the fact that i am very excited to go to portland. its just. . . i will hopefully be on a farm learning lots and working so hard within the next week or two. i'm hoping. so much.
-missing friends so fucking much i almost can't take it. wishing i had never signed up for a facebook account knowing i'll spend (as i already have) way too much time looking at other people's pictures and wishing i was in them and instead of pictures they were actually reality and also happening right now. missing friends so bad, oh my god.
-in an effort to distract myself, i've been watching as many micheal jordan and ken griffey jr. highlight reels as possible, which would be working, if only the load times weren't so damned slow.
sunday i am leaving for portland, which i am very excited about, for reasons like: a) getting to hang out with all the gazillion friends that i love a whole lot that live there, and b) i can't really think of any other reasons why i am or would or should or could be excited about going to portland, though certainly that should in no way detract from the fact that i am very excited to go to portland. its just. . . i will hopefully be on a farm learning lots and working so hard within the next week or two. i'm hoping. so much.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
posting up and throwing a tear down (see: overuse of the comma)
i think, as far as concsiously fabricated identities go, that beach casual was really only a stepping stone to much greater things, and that really what needs to be on everyone's minds these days, what's really going to catch on like wildfire before anyone really knows what's going on, (and this right here is your preliminary, but post-introduction-to-the-world, warning), is a little thing i've taken to calling: "ranchero".
today i called lee and left her a message but the message went on way too long so i ran out of time so at the end of it, the condescendingly nice "voicemailbox" (one word?? fuckin a) lady who had previously introduced me to lee's "voicemailbox" told me essentially that i had wasted way too much time blathering on and on for the majority of the message, not really saying anything at all, leaving a message that was niether pertinent, coherent, concise, nor in any way succinct (paraphrasing here) and that i had the option to leave the message as is, erase it and try again, or listen to it in full, just in case i wanted to hammer down the point further, that i am in fact an idiot incapable of just yet residing in a world of adulthood and maturity and professionalism. i, of course, chose the most latter of options, and in response to the voicemailbox lady's snide remarks, decided it best that i had better try my luck at it again, should probably think about what i was attempting to say beforehand, rather than any kind of improvisational method that i had heretofore relied upon or applied for message-leaving, which up to now i had believed to be comical or charming or in some way inspiring affection or at the very least warm sympathy. [this desire for self growth obviously arising out ofp of my mostly secret eternal and everlasting quest to be better than all other people at everything one could possibly do in life, ever. there may however be a few minor exceptions to this list, such as eating asparagus for example, or, say, wearing clean underwear; things i obviously have no aspirations of ever improving at]. for maybe the first time ever but certainly the first time in a really really long time i found myself listening to a message that i, matt smith, had left. the effect was profound and disturbing and enlightening and grounding all at the same time. so i left another message. once again the pleasant voice rang out in my ears that i was still, officially and unequivicably, not capable of getting to the point. so i left another message. again. this time however, about halfway through, i became distinctly aware of the lack of time remaining and my incredible inability to uh, rap it up (pertinently, coherently, concisely, or even in any way succintly), so i intuitively began to leave the message for myself, instinctively foreseeing or more, phophetically envisioning, the future (albeit the very near future). it was i, me, matt smith who would be the recipient of this long and rather dull recording of my, i's, matt smith's, voice, closing the message with a little memorandum about the ridiculous nature of the actions in which i was participating, directed at myself, or me, or matt smith. the next message i created was strictly aimed at communicating to myself, chocked full of mentions of the hilarity but maybe difficult implications and questions that arose about such a thing that one would do, while also several times mentioning positive qualities that i believed me or i or matt smith to possess, or rather that characterize him, or me. or I. upon listening to this most recent message, i rather quickly became aware of the emotional responses i was experiencing in relation to the statements that i was making to myself. its really a bizarre phenomenon to complement oneself and react to that message of flattery as if it were a totally spontaneous thing one were hearing for the first time and coming from someone outside of myself, someone whose opinion i have respect for, thus granting the message validity. all the while, through all of these messages, more than anything i'm just totally fucking wigging out on how different i thought my voice sounded this whole time. you're right, my lisp is kind of endearing. . .
after finally deleting all these messages and finally just telling lee to call me back, i finally sat back and pondered the impact of losing the game of scrabble i played last with adam, and the potential for hilarity in excessive self confidence. but don't worry, this is not a thing. . .
well, not like ranchero is going to be a thing, or rather, THE thing. . .
today i called lee and left her a message but the message went on way too long so i ran out of time so at the end of it, the condescendingly nice "voicemailbox" (one word?? fuckin a) lady who had previously introduced me to lee's "voicemailbox" told me essentially that i had wasted way too much time blathering on and on for the majority of the message, not really saying anything at all, leaving a message that was niether pertinent, coherent, concise, nor in any way succinct (paraphrasing here) and that i had the option to leave the message as is, erase it and try again, or listen to it in full, just in case i wanted to hammer down the point further, that i am in fact an idiot incapable of just yet residing in a world of adulthood and maturity and professionalism. i, of course, chose the most latter of options, and in response to the voicemailbox lady's snide remarks, decided it best that i had better try my luck at it again, should probably think about what i was attempting to say beforehand, rather than any kind of improvisational method that i had heretofore relied upon or applied for message-leaving, which up to now i had believed to be comical or charming or in some way inspiring affection or at the very least warm sympathy. [this desire for self growth obviously arising out ofp of my mostly secret eternal and everlasting quest to be better than all other people at everything one could possibly do in life, ever. there may however be a few minor exceptions to this list, such as eating asparagus for example, or, say, wearing clean underwear; things i obviously have no aspirations of ever improving at]. for maybe the first time ever but certainly the first time in a really really long time i found myself listening to a message that i, matt smith, had left. the effect was profound and disturbing and enlightening and grounding all at the same time. so i left another message. once again the pleasant voice rang out in my ears that i was still, officially and unequivicably, not capable of getting to the point. so i left another message. again. this time however, about halfway through, i became distinctly aware of the lack of time remaining and my incredible inability to uh, rap it up (pertinently, coherently, concisely, or even in any way succintly), so i intuitively began to leave the message for myself, instinctively foreseeing or more, phophetically envisioning, the future (albeit the very near future). it was i, me, matt smith who would be the recipient of this long and rather dull recording of my, i's, matt smith's, voice, closing the message with a little memorandum about the ridiculous nature of the actions in which i was participating, directed at myself, or me, or matt smith. the next message i created was strictly aimed at communicating to myself, chocked full of mentions of the hilarity but maybe difficult implications and questions that arose about such a thing that one would do, while also several times mentioning positive qualities that i believed me or i or matt smith to possess, or rather that characterize him, or me. or I. upon listening to this most recent message, i rather quickly became aware of the emotional responses i was experiencing in relation to the statements that i was making to myself. its really a bizarre phenomenon to complement oneself and react to that message of flattery as if it were a totally spontaneous thing one were hearing for the first time and coming from someone outside of myself, someone whose opinion i have respect for, thus granting the message validity. all the while, through all of these messages, more than anything i'm just totally fucking wigging out on how different i thought my voice sounded this whole time. you're right, my lisp is kind of endearing. . .
after finally deleting all these messages and finally just telling lee to call me back, i finally sat back and pondered the impact of losing the game of scrabble i played last with adam, and the potential for hilarity in excessive self confidence. but don't worry, this is not a thing. . .
well, not like ranchero is going to be a thing, or rather, THE thing. . .
Saturday, February 21, 2009
no gods no mattresses
been in san francisco a few days, more or less holed up inside the house reading about farms and farming or running errands with the housemates. aside from the great beard shave off that happened a few days ago at willy's barbershop in the mission, very little interaction with the city. i spent a few hours today finally emailing farms i'd like to spend the summer on, and now, having completed (to a large extent) what i'd been working on, the pressure of procrastination-associated-guilt has lifted and now left me with a somewhat uneasy feeling of waiting and hoping that that which is out of my control will work itself out.
deep leap zine release party last night. i had pretty much little to no interest of spending my evening around a lot of people that i knew at best peripherally, if at all, now that i'm fully marinating in the confusing stew of another round of transition. i found it pretty hard to be earnest and present with anyone in any of the interactions i had with the many friends of friends, without just talking about how "yeah, um, i really like, wanna work on a farm". i was hiding out in the back corner when i was approached by sierra or silvia or something, a girl i recognized immediately but could not place from where. she "didn't know anyone here and so. . ." she said to me. i uncomfortably babbled out a few random things that were, as i'm sure was obvious to more than myself, forced and mumbled, while nervously stuffing my face with trailmix, realizing later what it is to have a conversation with someone who is disgustingly preoccupied with pouring shards of nuts and cranberries in and around their mustachioed mouth. i think it was still comforting to be a social lifeboat when i was arguably way more desperate for a social lifeboat of my own. but it was ok. the gathering wasn't panic and fear inducing like it would have been a month before, more it was just boring, and the real problem was that i couldn't find the inspiration to search out something that actually held any interest for me.
i'm pretty chubby these days. well, more chubby than i was a year ago, or 6 months ago, or even 2 months ago. and kinda loving it. i love eating 4 slices of pizza without guilt and looking down at my belly and feeling its rounded edges slightly or maybe not so slightly spilling over my pants. scratching my chest at night and feeling the soft padded flesh stretching smooth. not so many angled shadows of well defined muscle appear when i take my shirt of to get in the shower, instead light tends to spread out and glow around the gentle curvature. the mirror doesn't scorn me anymore. it doesn't tell me i'm not ok like this, in this body, that i need to change. its just a mirror now.
in somewhat related news i eat so many pbjs. i heard that gw bush's favorite food is the pbj. that at fancy luncheons with foriegn heads of states, diplomats, executives, whoever, the staff will prepare exquisite 3 course gourmet meals for the guests and gw will get a plate with absolutely nothing else on it, no garnish no side salad no nothing, just a good old fashioned peanut butter and jelly sandwich lying bare and plain and cut down the middle. i wonder if he likes it cut vertically or diagonally.
deep leap zine release party last night. i had pretty much little to no interest of spending my evening around a lot of people that i knew at best peripherally, if at all, now that i'm fully marinating in the confusing stew of another round of transition. i found it pretty hard to be earnest and present with anyone in any of the interactions i had with the many friends of friends, without just talking about how "yeah, um, i really like, wanna work on a farm". i was hiding out in the back corner when i was approached by sierra or silvia or something, a girl i recognized immediately but could not place from where. she "didn't know anyone here and so. . ." she said to me. i uncomfortably babbled out a few random things that were, as i'm sure was obvious to more than myself, forced and mumbled, while nervously stuffing my face with trailmix, realizing later what it is to have a conversation with someone who is disgustingly preoccupied with pouring shards of nuts and cranberries in and around their mustachioed mouth. i think it was still comforting to be a social lifeboat when i was arguably way more desperate for a social lifeboat of my own. but it was ok. the gathering wasn't panic and fear inducing like it would have been a month before, more it was just boring, and the real problem was that i couldn't find the inspiration to search out something that actually held any interest for me.
i'm pretty chubby these days. well, more chubby than i was a year ago, or 6 months ago, or even 2 months ago. and kinda loving it. i love eating 4 slices of pizza without guilt and looking down at my belly and feeling its rounded edges slightly or maybe not so slightly spilling over my pants. scratching my chest at night and feeling the soft padded flesh stretching smooth. not so many angled shadows of well defined muscle appear when i take my shirt of to get in the shower, instead light tends to spread out and glow around the gentle curvature. the mirror doesn't scorn me anymore. it doesn't tell me i'm not ok like this, in this body, that i need to change. its just a mirror now.
in somewhat related news i eat so many pbjs. i heard that gw bush's favorite food is the pbj. that at fancy luncheons with foriegn heads of states, diplomats, executives, whoever, the staff will prepare exquisite 3 course gourmet meals for the guests and gw will get a plate with absolutely nothing else on it, no garnish no side salad no nothing, just a good old fashioned peanut butter and jelly sandwich lying bare and plain and cut down the middle. i wonder if he likes it cut vertically or diagonally.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Monday, February 16, 2009
may every giggle be filled to the brim with lust
today i'm leaving slo for san francisco. i'm learning slowly about my limits, about living within them, without giving up. i'm learning slowly about how i feel, and priviledging what's inside of me, not giving these feelings any origin outside of myself. i'm learning about my needs, learning how to distinguish between wants and desires, and necessities that are i require. learning to listen to myself more honestly. giving up "in order to. . ." i'm learning about drawing power only from myself, not forgetting but losing the connection to the things that have brought me here as a source of self worth, not developing identity based on tangible shit that in all actuality bears no significance on who i am as a person. i'm learning how to improve or even altogether lose my estimations of people, no more overestimating, credit based outside another's heart, no more underestimating, feeling paternal and more powerful. i'm leaving today because i want to.
Friday, February 13, 2009
gimme those knucks or "how i think a lot of things are 'important' for 'us'."
i think you should all start blogs. they can be secret and only i will read them or others if you want to tell them too, but i think it can be such an excellent way to connect, it is the future after all. and if we're working towards evolving in our communication, what better way than the information SUPERHIGHWAY???
i've been really really doing it lately oh man. productive, that is. trying to push myself to do new things, to do necessary things that i put off, to do unneccessary things that for i've avoided because i could. here's a list of san luis obispo things i have done:
-gone jogging
-made juggling balls out of rice and balloons
-worn a dress all night at a party with sooo many people i've known for a max of 3 days, and danced my damned arse of in the middle of it all
-trued a bike wheel just for the heck of it
-blew the pants off some dang californians with vegan enchiladas
-meditated
-cleaned sooo many dishes
-orchestrated a joke swap in a really awkward down time at a show, though with a little more confidence it could have gone a little bit better. still pretty good though. . .
+ a whole lot more i can't quite think of right now
i was having a conversation tonight about people who join the military and some people were taking the hard line radical attitude, "if they join the military, they're willingly signing up to take part in violence and that's fucked" etc etc and i found myself thinking in a flashback to a conversation with lee, about the worth of self worth, self esteem, believing in oneself. its really important. we all need to work on developing it, and we all need to find ways to support eachother in developing it, because somewhere, even when it hides in the deepest recesses, there is potential in humans for so many great things, it just sometimes lays dormant behind some really tough walls, one so much of the time being the voice that tells us we're not worth anything, we're not capable of anything, we're not meaningful(l), and this can really create some fucked up traits some fucked up beliefs and some fucked up behavior.
this has led me back to a theme that's ran through my thinking all week, the importance of work, and the broad spectrum of things that fall under this vague category of human action. the validity of self work. the importance and necessity of self work. i think i get down on myself a lot for not working hard enough "collectively" or "socially" or "politically" or whatever, but i'm more and more realizing how legitimate a form of 'work' it is to work on oneself, to dig and dig and dig and still deeper, dig. to root out all the shit that isn't us, all the shit we've been taught, all the shit we've created that doesn't belong, or isn't real (the stories we create). to root out the 'superego' (i end up questioning how appropriate the use of freudian [or whatever] language is, as well as my ability to use it properly, but in this concept it works pretty well as a mediator) to the point where we ourselves have a say on what's going on, or at least to be aware of what's going on, the tendencies toward judgement that is not based inside of us, the tendencies towards self loathing, so many tendencies that lead to objectionable ends. to understand the id and all our internal drives and desires (that may or may not have memory or have evolved or be linked to any time place person or group or archetype, depending on your personal opinion. personally, at this time i think its entertaining to at least speculate and theorize about such potentialities). to focus our ego so that we may make informed and intentional decisions. "quarterbacking our life" (vince). and i don't think this process should ever stop. along with this internal work, i've been thinking about the importance of relationship work, not just romantic involvements, but all relationships. to work towards improving how we relate to one another. which is a work of discovery, of exploration, of learning just what exactly it means to relate to another human, and the process of that relation, and figuring out a vision for the specific characteristics of the relations that we really and truly desire. putting that vision into practice. its really hard. i was talking to this kid matt about how hard it is to be open and honest about how hard it is to put our flaws out in the open. and how important it is to have the kind of relationships where criticism has a safe and nonconfrontational space to exist. its the best way to grow. we have so much potential to improve the ways we live our lives, but we must grow.
sleeping so little so little so little. goodnight world its 3 am again.
thank you for letting me organize my thoughts via imagining you reading them
i've been really really doing it lately oh man. productive, that is. trying to push myself to do new things, to do necessary things that i put off, to do unneccessary things that for i've avoided because i could. here's a list of san luis obispo things i have done:
-gone jogging
-made juggling balls out of rice and balloons
-worn a dress all night at a party with sooo many people i've known for a max of 3 days, and danced my damned arse of in the middle of it all
-trued a bike wheel just for the heck of it
-blew the pants off some dang californians with vegan enchiladas
-meditated
-cleaned sooo many dishes
-orchestrated a joke swap in a really awkward down time at a show, though with a little more confidence it could have gone a little bit better. still pretty good though. . .
+ a whole lot more i can't quite think of right now
i was having a conversation tonight about people who join the military and some people were taking the hard line radical attitude, "if they join the military, they're willingly signing up to take part in violence and that's fucked" etc etc and i found myself thinking in a flashback to a conversation with lee, about the worth of self worth, self esteem, believing in oneself. its really important. we all need to work on developing it, and we all need to find ways to support eachother in developing it, because somewhere, even when it hides in the deepest recesses, there is potential in humans for so many great things, it just sometimes lays dormant behind some really tough walls, one so much of the time being the voice that tells us we're not worth anything, we're not capable of anything, we're not meaningful(l), and this can really create some fucked up traits some fucked up beliefs and some fucked up behavior.
this has led me back to a theme that's ran through my thinking all week, the importance of work, and the broad spectrum of things that fall under this vague category of human action. the validity of self work. the importance and necessity of self work. i think i get down on myself a lot for not working hard enough "collectively" or "socially" or "politically" or whatever, but i'm more and more realizing how legitimate a form of 'work' it is to work on oneself, to dig and dig and dig and still deeper, dig. to root out all the shit that isn't us, all the shit we've been taught, all the shit we've created that doesn't belong, or isn't real (the stories we create). to root out the 'superego' (i end up questioning how appropriate the use of freudian [or whatever] language is, as well as my ability to use it properly, but in this concept it works pretty well as a mediator) to the point where we ourselves have a say on what's going on, or at least to be aware of what's going on, the tendencies toward judgement that is not based inside of us, the tendencies towards self loathing, so many tendencies that lead to objectionable ends. to understand the id and all our internal drives and desires (that may or may not have memory or have evolved or be linked to any time place person or group or archetype, depending on your personal opinion. personally, at this time i think its entertaining to at least speculate and theorize about such potentialities). to focus our ego so that we may make informed and intentional decisions. "quarterbacking our life" (vince). and i don't think this process should ever stop. along with this internal work, i've been thinking about the importance of relationship work, not just romantic involvements, but all relationships. to work towards improving how we relate to one another. which is a work of discovery, of exploration, of learning just what exactly it means to relate to another human, and the process of that relation, and figuring out a vision for the specific characteristics of the relations that we really and truly desire. putting that vision into practice. its really hard. i was talking to this kid matt about how hard it is to be open and honest about how hard it is to put our flaws out in the open. and how important it is to have the kind of relationships where criticism has a safe and nonconfrontational space to exist. its the best way to grow. we have so much potential to improve the ways we live our lives, but we must grow.
sleeping so little so little so little. goodnight world its 3 am again.
thank you for letting me organize my thoughts via imagining you reading them
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
mr jick brahldeen usa vs. mrs. aunty leeza za soahld-toatie
this is a post where most of the stuff i will talk about was already talked about in a conversation. in posting conversational content i wish to avoid any feeling that such reproduction in any way invalidates the intimacy and trust that were needed to express these ideas in the first place.
i'm having a great time here in slo, but oh man it is really hard. for maybe the first time ever, no, there's been a few other times, but the first time in a really really long time i have found a pre-existing community of friends who have been honest and full of love enough to welcome me whole-heartedly and make me feel comfortable enough to be who i really am around them. its really hard though. i feel like the vulnerability i have been feeling (as posted previously) with this travel has only been honestly exposed to one person with whom i've felt safe enough to share openly with, maryjane. i have so many fucking friend crushes right now, its insane, i'm dying to get to a place where i can have intimate relationships with these people, but that takes time, time to break down walls and build trust in their place. i want to share my love with them so badly, my chest feels like its going to explode everytime i talk to any one of these kids, and i can see the warmth in their eyes, know what their capable of from the interactions they have with eachother, and want so badly to go further and deeper. at the same time that i am feeling this desire pulsating within me, i also feel so much pressure with maryjane, the only one here who i've in anyway opened up to. rightfully so, we haven't broken down enough walls yet either though, and there's been major disconnections in our communicating. i feel pressured to prove to her the person that i know that i am, which ends up in contrived and forced communication and difficulty allowing myself to relate to her. its hard to prove that i might not always have the right thing to say, but i will never give up trying to learn what is needed, and i will never give up trying to support my friends. its easy to see the love that i am capable of having when i'm in santa fe, surrounded by people who know me. its easy to see when watching me interact with those who i share so much love with, but out here, to these kids, i'm a blank slate with no history, no background, no connections to their lives, no sources or examples to verify my identity. i know who i am. i know that i am a committed friend, i know that i will love forever, that i will never forget my friends. how do you show, in three days, all that you are, all that you believe, all that you are capable of? its just not possible, i know this.
love is the human's greatest characteristic, greatest potential, greatest purpose. supreme above all else, we are alive to love. we are alive to create communion with eachother, to create bonds that will not break. we must strive for nothing greater, for there is nothing greater. we must commit ourselves to seek out new homes for our love, we must commit ourselves to continue to share with the homes we have already found for our love. there is no end, no finite amount of all the love that we are, it is endless, and only increases with that which we put out into the world. to me, as i've talked about with a few people, this is a process of breaking down walls. walls confuse and obscure communication. communication is the vehicle in which we transport our love, and the better the vehicle, the more pure and true our love can be shared. this is a "demand for fullness and intensity" of love. so we must commit to communication, commit to increasing both the quantity and the quality of our communication. we are always able to improve in this capacity, and must always work towards it.
i'm having a great time here in slo, but oh man it is really hard. for maybe the first time ever, no, there's been a few other times, but the first time in a really really long time i have found a pre-existing community of friends who have been honest and full of love enough to welcome me whole-heartedly and make me feel comfortable enough to be who i really am around them. its really hard though. i feel like the vulnerability i have been feeling (as posted previously) with this travel has only been honestly exposed to one person with whom i've felt safe enough to share openly with, maryjane. i have so many fucking friend crushes right now, its insane, i'm dying to get to a place where i can have intimate relationships with these people, but that takes time, time to break down walls and build trust in their place. i want to share my love with them so badly, my chest feels like its going to explode everytime i talk to any one of these kids, and i can see the warmth in their eyes, know what their capable of from the interactions they have with eachother, and want so badly to go further and deeper. at the same time that i am feeling this desire pulsating within me, i also feel so much pressure with maryjane, the only one here who i've in anyway opened up to. rightfully so, we haven't broken down enough walls yet either though, and there's been major disconnections in our communicating. i feel pressured to prove to her the person that i know that i am, which ends up in contrived and forced communication and difficulty allowing myself to relate to her. its hard to prove that i might not always have the right thing to say, but i will never give up trying to learn what is needed, and i will never give up trying to support my friends. its easy to see the love that i am capable of having when i'm in santa fe, surrounded by people who know me. its easy to see when watching me interact with those who i share so much love with, but out here, to these kids, i'm a blank slate with no history, no background, no connections to their lives, no sources or examples to verify my identity. i know who i am. i know that i am a committed friend, i know that i will love forever, that i will never forget my friends. how do you show, in three days, all that you are, all that you believe, all that you are capable of? its just not possible, i know this.
love is the human's greatest characteristic, greatest potential, greatest purpose. supreme above all else, we are alive to love. we are alive to create communion with eachother, to create bonds that will not break. we must strive for nothing greater, for there is nothing greater. we must commit ourselves to seek out new homes for our love, we must commit ourselves to continue to share with the homes we have already found for our love. there is no end, no finite amount of all the love that we are, it is endless, and only increases with that which we put out into the world. to me, as i've talked about with a few people, this is a process of breaking down walls. walls confuse and obscure communication. communication is the vehicle in which we transport our love, and the better the vehicle, the more pure and true our love can be shared. this is a "demand for fullness and intensity" of love. so we must commit to communication, commit to increasing both the quantity and the quality of our communication. we are always able to improve in this capacity, and must always work towards it.
Monday, February 9, 2009
being having doing
so so so much! physical details of the trip or mental thoughts? ummmm. . . ok
today i re read a letter from katie nels where she brought up the beauty of the often times painful vulnerability one feels when one goes on an excursion such as mine. i've been really swimming in an overwhelming amount of "freedom", both internal and external. yesterday, trying to hitch a ride out of gilroy, ca, after hours of walking with a 40+ lb pack on my back, i was suddenly overcome with intense desires to dance uncontrollably in the setting sun, in the face of hundreds of rush hour commuters. i soon realized it was harder to dance when there's no music in the air, so i then began whistling, which progressed to humming, which then progressed into the loudest most boisterous freestyled lyrics singing i have ever taken part in. so yeah, the feeling of freedom literally sweeping me off my feet. and yet. somehow still so open, so raw, so completely vulnerable i could have begun crying at almost any point in the day. after camping out by the freeway, i was promptly picked up this morning within an half of an hour, taken to paso robles, then catching a greyhound bus that i didn't end up paying for, ending up smack dab in the middle of california, san luis obispo (hometown of zac effron). i made my way to the house that maryjane (my travel partner/intentional friend noted in a previous post) has been staying at, and was bombarded with new faces, probably 20 throughout the course of the day. obviously, if i wasn't feeling vulnerable before, now came the familiar squish of fear and anxiety characterized by excessive timidity, dry froggy throat, nervous glances, and way too many ciggie breaks. already though. . . its amazing to think that something like the "punk scene" can exist in such a rejecting and isolating world. actually, on second thought, probably a pretty expected reaction. within hours of being here i am starting to feel the warm tinges of new friendship burning their way into my heart.
in somewhat related news: i've been thinking about how boys/guys/dudes/men relate to eachother, how insanely taboo it is for a male to express emotion to another, to be sincere, genuine, AUTHENTIC. i've experienced so much of this travelling around the country, spending time with so so many dudes, both new and old. it definitely makes so clear how incredibly fortunate i am to have the friends that i do have, as luckily i really feel like i am surrounded with a bunch of totally solid guys who aren't afraid of that shit at all.
here's a statement i'd like to make:
i really like the idea that despite the world being a completely meaningless void, we as humans are capable of being guided by love to find meaning and hope in each other.
today i re read a letter from katie nels where she brought up the beauty of the often times painful vulnerability one feels when one goes on an excursion such as mine. i've been really swimming in an overwhelming amount of "freedom", both internal and external. yesterday, trying to hitch a ride out of gilroy, ca, after hours of walking with a 40+ lb pack on my back, i was suddenly overcome with intense desires to dance uncontrollably in the setting sun, in the face of hundreds of rush hour commuters. i soon realized it was harder to dance when there's no music in the air, so i then began whistling, which progressed to humming, which then progressed into the loudest most boisterous freestyled lyrics singing i have ever taken part in. so yeah, the feeling of freedom literally sweeping me off my feet. and yet. somehow still so open, so raw, so completely vulnerable i could have begun crying at almost any point in the day. after camping out by the freeway, i was promptly picked up this morning within an half of an hour, taken to paso robles, then catching a greyhound bus that i didn't end up paying for, ending up smack dab in the middle of california, san luis obispo (hometown of zac effron). i made my way to the house that maryjane (my travel partner/intentional friend noted in a previous post) has been staying at, and was bombarded with new faces, probably 20 throughout the course of the day. obviously, if i wasn't feeling vulnerable before, now came the familiar squish of fear and anxiety characterized by excessive timidity, dry froggy throat, nervous glances, and way too many ciggie breaks. already though. . . its amazing to think that something like the "punk scene" can exist in such a rejecting and isolating world. actually, on second thought, probably a pretty expected reaction. within hours of being here i am starting to feel the warm tinges of new friendship burning their way into my heart.
in somewhat related news: i've been thinking about how boys/guys/dudes/men relate to eachother, how insanely taboo it is for a male to express emotion to another, to be sincere, genuine, AUTHENTIC. i've experienced so much of this travelling around the country, spending time with so so many dudes, both new and old. it definitely makes so clear how incredibly fortunate i am to have the friends that i do have, as luckily i really feel like i am surrounded with a bunch of totally solid guys who aren't afraid of that shit at all.
here's a statement i'd like to make:
i really like the idea that despite the world being a completely meaningless void, we as humans are capable of being guided by love to find meaning and hope in each other.
Monday, February 2, 2009
xfearxhatexdeathx
i am more than ready to be leaving san francisco. the smells of pee and food and eucalyptus and pee again and then you realize there are so many people yelling and cars driving and dogs barking and doors clanging and banging, plussss you are seeing all this shit just whiz by just totally whiz by in every direction at every speed and do i know that person and watch out! and what the fuck was that??? plus walking on concrete and dog poop so so much. i'm tired of it. i'm tired of feeling kinda like an imposition even though also i'm feeling imposed upon by so much. i'm tired of being surrounded by people all the time and it all being so unreal so virtual whatever and and i'm tired of seeing so many people that are real and not really having anything new or interesting or creative to say! ugh, i'm tired of not sleeping enough and drinking too much coffee and eating like shit and holding my pee and having a sore throat.
***this is a happy post
last night i was gonna write all this great stuff even though i was kinda not feeling it but the internet was not operating well. tonight i am feeling great, just exhausted. live free or die. don't tread on me.
i am about to embark on the real adventurous part of my trip, like not eating shitty food that i payed for and riding greyhound busses and staying on my friends' nice apartment's couches but like travelling travelling. its been slowly taking steps towards this but now my trip has finally reached this whole other thing entirely. i guess maybe stage would be an appropriate way to classify it a whole other stage. its really really exciting and also really really scary to not know where i'll be or how i'll get there. but mostly really exciting.
every night when i'm going to bed i still listen to lectures but before that i take a couple minutes to think about one or two friends that i miss and all the good things i love about them and all the things that piss me off but i secretly love about them. then i move on to having conversations with them in my head where i tell them stuff like "i've always loved you so much but never feel comfortable telling you face to face, i don't know why it just seems hard, that kinda thing always gets choked up in my throat, kinda feels like sand in there and also my eyes get watery and start to burn. i think cause i think about my mom crying out the words 'i love you' to me one time when she was really really sad because her and dad were getting seperated and it hurt her so much to think that i wouldn't know that she loved me and that it wasn't about me. my mom is really emotional or i guess we all are huh, but she is really expressive with her emotions, and i always admired that but have had such a hard time with it myself. i used to cry so hard and so long whenever she was crying and she would cry at really really big things, yeah, but also really really small things like movies and stuff. i used to cry a lot for a lot of different reasons, actually. maybe i never learned the halfway point, all or nothing you know? i don't know, i just know i have a really hard time telling you how i really feel about you, that i love you so much endlessly and i guess i should work on that" and they say "nah dude, i could see it in your eyes" and it wouldn't be some thing we were both just saying cause i felt obligated to out of some fear that they have fear that its not really true cause really my eyes showed the love i have for them and that love shot straight into their eyes and there was no way of faking that kind of thing there was no way of speaking that kind of thing even, it just was known, indescribably, and it was a transcendent way of communicating all that words never mean, it was simply the truth. then i think about the future and get so excited i wake up a little bit and that's when i put on my headphones so i can fall back asleep.
***this is a happy post
last night i was gonna write all this great stuff even though i was kinda not feeling it but the internet was not operating well. tonight i am feeling great, just exhausted. live free or die. don't tread on me.
i am about to embark on the real adventurous part of my trip, like not eating shitty food that i payed for and riding greyhound busses and staying on my friends' nice apartment's couches but like travelling travelling. its been slowly taking steps towards this but now my trip has finally reached this whole other thing entirely. i guess maybe stage would be an appropriate way to classify it a whole other stage. its really really exciting and also really really scary to not know where i'll be or how i'll get there. but mostly really exciting.
every night when i'm going to bed i still listen to lectures but before that i take a couple minutes to think about one or two friends that i miss and all the good things i love about them and all the things that piss me off but i secretly love about them. then i move on to having conversations with them in my head where i tell them stuff like "i've always loved you so much but never feel comfortable telling you face to face, i don't know why it just seems hard, that kinda thing always gets choked up in my throat, kinda feels like sand in there and also my eyes get watery and start to burn. i think cause i think about my mom crying out the words 'i love you' to me one time when she was really really sad because her and dad were getting seperated and it hurt her so much to think that i wouldn't know that she loved me and that it wasn't about me. my mom is really emotional or i guess we all are huh, but she is really expressive with her emotions, and i always admired that but have had such a hard time with it myself. i used to cry so hard and so long whenever she was crying and she would cry at really really big things, yeah, but also really really small things like movies and stuff. i used to cry a lot for a lot of different reasons, actually. maybe i never learned the halfway point, all or nothing you know? i don't know, i just know i have a really hard time telling you how i really feel about you, that i love you so much endlessly and i guess i should work on that" and they say "nah dude, i could see it in your eyes" and it wouldn't be some thing we were both just saying cause i felt obligated to out of some fear that they have fear that its not really true cause really my eyes showed the love i have for them and that love shot straight into their eyes and there was no way of faking that kind of thing there was no way of speaking that kind of thing even, it just was known, indescribably, and it was a transcendent way of communicating all that words never mean, it was simply the truth. then i think about the future and get so excited i wake up a little bit and that's when i put on my headphones so i can fall back asleep.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Friday, January 23, 2009
existence before essence
all my days on this planet have been spent developing a certain perspective, chosen freely but also gifted to me by chance. completing a book, ive realized, (though maybe it was once told to me and i'm recycling the concept, as it seems so often to turn out with my apparently and appallingly not-so-original thoughts), can be the most lonely experience i can possibly imagine. minutes and hours and days spent enveloped in the world of someone else, voyeuristic, experiencing the how and why of the way their world has been compartmentalized and ordered, only to come to its inevitable end, leaving me back in my own harshly concrete and unfantastical completely material 3 or 4 dimensional banal reality. words never quite transcending their inadequacies at transporting me totally inside of them, i'm left with my own disorganized cloud of swirling conjectures about what has brought me to this place in time. i'll never be able to live anyone else's life. this thought drains me. leaves me pondering the directionless meaninglessness of everything, just like my 11 year old self did with my first real flirtation with the idea that death exists. micah, a boy who i barely knew, but was certainly a friend of friends, fell from his rope swing, snapped his neck, died on the spot. the reality of his death coming so unexpectedly, it shattered any previous conceptions that the world was in any way ordered and intentional. this has been followed by the occasional relapses through the years with other friends of friends, marissa, eli, etc etc, no rhyme or reason to their deaths. the world just simply happens, with or without our compliance.
last night i danced alone in the dark on the top of a deserted and barren grassy hill overlooking the city of san francisco. absolutely no holding back, arms flailing and hips twisting and legs scuttering and sliding and slamming on the rocky path. transcending meaninglessness to a world of fuck the world, fuck meaning, fuck drama and insecurity and earthly worries like how the fuck am i gonna afford to go on living like this and how the fuck am i gonna live any other way and how the fuck will i ever transcend this limited world with anyone else, ever. can i share enough of the same actions and contexts and physical constraints to ever understand anyone else totally, completely?
i work to break down the walls. barriers that divide, keep us isolated and individual. i work to relive the life of my dead best friend without consciously meaning to, his the only death that could in my opinion be classified as intentional, with a purpose. on further reflection, i have questions. am i hoping that i will finally share communion with him, doubting that i ever had, knowing we had something but not sure what it was after all these years, nostalgia clouding my memory, left only with a few pages of writing, a list of favorite authors, a couple of watercolor paintings. the lonely thought of am i only reliving the emotions that our shared time together once evoked inside myself. am i trying instead to communicate with that which i claim to not believe in, the ghost of devin risley, stuck in suicide induced purgatory. am i hoping to be proved wrong by its or his supernatural appearance?
and then i become conscious of myself again, wondering why it is i feel the necessity to post this on the internet, versus in a private notebook which will never be read by anyone but myself, or simply keep it up in my head. at first i justified it as the easiest way to organize my thoughts, but now questioning my belief that people show themselves for recognition, so called artists really just souls in need of a little recognition. some may think this sort of thing is a call for recognition, attention, response to justify whatever it is i need justification for but can not find said justification within my own self.
i've been thinking about how much i love people. how much i love their lives and their perspectives and their willingness to let me in for a glimpse. but then that leads to the same feelings i have when i finish a really good book, the flood of consciousness that i also exist, leaving me isolated and separate, walled and barricaded off. some may take this kind of talk personally, and maybe you should, but it should not hurt the way you may want to let it hurt. if anything it is a celebration of all that we've worked for. all that we've achieved. that despite the odds, the 100 to none guarantee that yes, we're going to die, we continue to work and strive and grope for the light that shows itself in both bright explosions and dull glimmering flickers between you and i. i love you and you love me and if that isn't enough then fuck maybe we should just give up.
all my days on this planet will be spent working on developing the compiled perspective of a million and a half other perspectives, since right now at this moment in time, this is all matt-"existential"-chris-smith has figured out.
last night i danced alone in the dark on the top of a deserted and barren grassy hill overlooking the city of san francisco. absolutely no holding back, arms flailing and hips twisting and legs scuttering and sliding and slamming on the rocky path. transcending meaninglessness to a world of fuck the world, fuck meaning, fuck drama and insecurity and earthly worries like how the fuck am i gonna afford to go on living like this and how the fuck am i gonna live any other way and how the fuck will i ever transcend this limited world with anyone else, ever. can i share enough of the same actions and contexts and physical constraints to ever understand anyone else totally, completely?
i work to break down the walls. barriers that divide, keep us isolated and individual. i work to relive the life of my dead best friend without consciously meaning to, his the only death that could in my opinion be classified as intentional, with a purpose. on further reflection, i have questions. am i hoping that i will finally share communion with him, doubting that i ever had, knowing we had something but not sure what it was after all these years, nostalgia clouding my memory, left only with a few pages of writing, a list of favorite authors, a couple of watercolor paintings. the lonely thought of am i only reliving the emotions that our shared time together once evoked inside myself. am i trying instead to communicate with that which i claim to not believe in, the ghost of devin risley, stuck in suicide induced purgatory. am i hoping to be proved wrong by its or his supernatural appearance?
and then i become conscious of myself again, wondering why it is i feel the necessity to post this on the internet, versus in a private notebook which will never be read by anyone but myself, or simply keep it up in my head. at first i justified it as the easiest way to organize my thoughts, but now questioning my belief that people show themselves for recognition, so called artists really just souls in need of a little recognition. some may think this sort of thing is a call for recognition, attention, response to justify whatever it is i need justification for but can not find said justification within my own self.
i've been thinking about how much i love people. how much i love their lives and their perspectives and their willingness to let me in for a glimpse. but then that leads to the same feelings i have when i finish a really good book, the flood of consciousness that i also exist, leaving me isolated and separate, walled and barricaded off. some may take this kind of talk personally, and maybe you should, but it should not hurt the way you may want to let it hurt. if anything it is a celebration of all that we've worked for. all that we've achieved. that despite the odds, the 100 to none guarantee that yes, we're going to die, we continue to work and strive and grope for the light that shows itself in both bright explosions and dull glimmering flickers between you and i. i love you and you love me and if that isn't enough then fuck maybe we should just give up.
all my days on this planet will be spent working on developing the compiled perspective of a million and a half other perspectives, since right now at this moment in time, this is all matt-"existential"-chris-smith has figured out.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Monday, January 19, 2009
boshington to waston MEGALOPOLIS
Is there really anything you're looking to read that i have written, because if so, you should tell me. i have no new news, no conclusions drawn, no drama no worries no news. the days are flying by and i'm participating in them and so are a few other people. its kinda like vacation i guess, or maybe just the last 2 days. i've been taking a break. from taking a break. i don't know if there's anything else though, so why try to find it? ugh, ugh, forcing out blog entries when really i just want to be reading your blog entries, and i mean not to be cryptic but rather provide a space where you can see your own damned meaning seeing as how thus far i have found next to nothing. feeling close to devin risley a lot lately. don't know what it means but i feel more and more like him and less and less like anything else.
i've been sitting around inventing dialogues with friends that i should or could or would have if the chance to have them arrived but mostly just thinking about my place in other people's lives that might not be as fulfilling as their's in mine, or mine in mine. trying not to call out for attention but more to sink into obscurity. wondering if this is the tendency that uncle melvin feels every few years when he goes into reclusive hermitage until his family (my family) digs him out into our presence and i wonder if he hates us for it or loves us for it or just kinda goes with the flow, just kind of enjoying the ride. buttercup thinks i write like devin but i think we write like al burian or maybe we write like we used to talk to eachother. i have to go get vegetables. . .
sometimes i will end up putting all of my insecurities out in the open for everyone to see, even when i don't really think its all that appropriate. sometimes i think that a blog is not the proper medium for this also, but sometimes i forget and write these long entries that get edited down a few hours later when i come to my senses.
"who's skateboard is this" asks an unfamiliar voice from the kitchen. the newly arrived visitor intimidates me already and i'm sure i'll mumble out a hello that i then criticize myself for, for hours after. i do like hearing the response of the housemates letting me know i'm "a guy who's staying here who's friends with jesse and raven", confirming my forgettability.
all in all i am doing really really good, sorry to leave you with the impression that that was not the case. it is, i am loving california and my friends here and my life in general. a while ago cease told me to "stop being so god damned dramatic"
i've been sitting around inventing dialogues with friends that i should or could or would have if the chance to have them arrived but mostly just thinking about my place in other people's lives that might not be as fulfilling as their's in mine, or mine in mine. trying not to call out for attention but more to sink into obscurity. wondering if this is the tendency that uncle melvin feels every few years when he goes into reclusive hermitage until his family (my family) digs him out into our presence and i wonder if he hates us for it or loves us for it or just kinda goes with the flow, just kind of enjoying the ride. buttercup thinks i write like devin but i think we write like al burian or maybe we write like we used to talk to eachother. i have to go get vegetables. . .
sometimes i will end up putting all of my insecurities out in the open for everyone to see, even when i don't really think its all that appropriate. sometimes i think that a blog is not the proper medium for this also, but sometimes i forget and write these long entries that get edited down a few hours later when i come to my senses.
"who's skateboard is this" asks an unfamiliar voice from the kitchen. the newly arrived visitor intimidates me already and i'm sure i'll mumble out a hello that i then criticize myself for, for hours after. i do like hearing the response of the housemates letting me know i'm "a guy who's staying here who's friends with jesse and raven", confirming my forgettability.
all in all i am doing really really good, sorry to leave you with the impression that that was not the case. it is, i am loving california and my friends here and my life in general. a while ago cease told me to "stop being so god damned dramatic"
Thursday, January 15, 2009
people in love want only love. even at the cost of pain.
today i am wandering around aimlessly in san francisco, but earlier i had a 2 hour coffee hang with my newest friend kyle, who happens to be dating my friend also called kyle. i am feeling niether witty nor funny nor smart, but the weather is so totally great it kinda doesn't matter. not much to report, tomorrow i have a date with walter the straightedge bartender to go skate. is this travel life just the same thing as santa fe life only with new people and architecture? no, its just that i end up talking about such things because the rest of everything has yet to be categorized by words in my brain. but maybe that's it?
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Monday, January 12, 2009
never grow up. never surrender.
i left portland on a good note laughing about junior high with buster and alex. boarded the oakland bound bus at 6, got the last available seat, next to behemoth frog man//santa claus who was taking up the majority of my sit along with his own, telling me about running from his p.o. to central america where he'd spent the last four years drinking inconcievable amounts of rum and getting the shit fucked out of him by hookers. moved to a new seat as soon as possible, slept about one hour, got off in sacramento at about 7 am and went after some coffee and early morning skateboarding. got on the new bus at 10, and sat next to my newest friend maryjane, a girl from spokane who has a thing for travelling for free. we talked and talked and were silent in ccomplete sleepless greyhound delirium for the ride, and made a pact to meet up in a month, where we will be travelling to "the south" together, as it's the only place in the us niether of us have really been. spontaneity that feels really really good like exciting and fun and new friends but also learning and growing in a real life kind of way instead of a reading a book and maybe talking about it kind of way. super stoked on this, we get out at oakland and find sunny 70 degree weather, tell some jokes, then molly picks me up and we have a pretty epic day of scenic drives and yelling at each other and bagels and hills and raven and pizza and the beach:
i sewed on an "addition" to my hood which is why it looks so stupid. its comfier now. the beach and the ocean had a totally different effect on me this time, not all loneliness and dark. stayed up late late late and now i'm still exhausted but i'm feeling real good in life. busy like never before catching up with friends i haven't seen for years in a few hours then moving on. tonight dinner at kyle's which is soooo exciting! hopes and positive attitudes and way too many cigarrettes. questioning myself a million times a day. learning (AGAIN) to be confident and cool. whatever dork.
i sewed on an "addition" to my hood which is why it looks so stupid. its comfier now. the beach and the ocean had a totally different effect on me this time, not all loneliness and dark. stayed up late late late and now i'm still exhausted but i'm feeling real good in life. busy like never before catching up with friends i haven't seen for years in a few hours then moving on. tonight dinner at kyle's which is soooo exciting! hopes and positive attitudes and way too many cigarrettes. questioning myself a million times a day. learning (AGAIN) to be confident and cool. whatever dork.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
i'd rather be ashes than dust
portland is a bunch of people hanging out non stop all the time like a lot of people and i like a lot of them but i think its too much for me. i am still feeling in transit and not settled and not knowing what's going on ever sleep deprived and confidence drained, it is great and it will be greater when things are a little more settled. keeping my eyes out for neon rainbows and striped rocks.
Friday, January 9, 2009
snake plushkin
not leaving oly anytime soon but i guess that's ok cause i'm having lots of fun and also oakland is rioting so i might not want to be there right now anyways. lots of sewing and today it was SUNNY! and tomorrow i'm gonna read a lot probably. which is great. ps dogs gods. beatiful pooches loving me and me loving them.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
derek jensen/911 truthers
so get this, watch. in about june-ish this dude armageddon went out to some newish bar on the southside that he had been wanting to check out for a while and ended up meeting this total fuckin hag named reality but armageddon had had a few and the ugly witch started lookin better as the night went on and sure enough they ended up nailin that shit up and then all of a sudden nine months later aka last night out popped this little fuck known as UPPER WASHINGTON STATE IS NOW AN ISLAND AND NO YOU CAN NOT GO EAST FROM SEATTLE BECAUSE THERE ARE AVALANCHES AND NO YOU CAN NOT GO EAST FROM TACOMA BECAUSE THERE ARE LANDSLIDES AND NO YOU CAN NOT GO SOUTH FROM OLYMPIA BECAUSE THE WHOLE OF THE GOD DAMN SOUTH IS FLOODED OVER AND YOU MIGHT AS WELL GET USED TO THE GOD DAMNED GREY AND THE GOD DAMNED EVERGREEN TREES CAUSE YOU ARE NOT FUCKING LEAVING ANYTIME SOON!
so i'm in olympia with alex gaziano and last night amidst what could have been the end of the world but really is probably (hopefully?) only a sign of how fucked the world could be, we listened to really old memory songs and had lots of awesome. portland today! oakland. . .tomorrow?!
so i'm in olympia with alex gaziano and last night amidst what could have been the end of the world but really is probably (hopefully?) only a sign of how fucked the world could be, we listened to really old memory songs and had lots of awesome. portland today! oakland. . .tomorrow?!
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
canada oh can i die?
don't really wanna be here but i'm stuck here and i can't really do anything on my own and then i also can't use my phone cause i'm in international waters now which makes everything kinda feel like i'm floating off into an ocean on a little boat that can't fight the tide any more with my little boat's little oars. here's a picture of one time when i was really happy. here's a picture of one time when i was being a little less dramatic:
Friday, January 2, 2009
mountain winders
miles deep into the snowy mountain wilderness of northwestern wyoming, cozied up in a most warm and bright cabin playing derrivatives of scrabble and showing off new shoes! christmas sugar cookies and red wine (but not me)!
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