Monday, September 23, 2002
This is from the Website.
Right off the bat, ill tell you im a 16 year old kid telling absolutely the truth so god strike me dead. I hope you dont take my report as bogus because of that.Let me explain my situation to you: I live, and have lived,on the Molalla river for most of my life, and never thought twice about walking around at night or anywhere period. About 2 months ago, i was alone in my Grandmas house using the computer, when i decided to go home[my house is only about 50 yards away]. As i was stepping outside the most hideous feeling of bieng alone and fear thumped my heart.I kept walking in terror, when, all of the sudden, about 30 feet off to my right, i heard a loud thumping sound crash out.From there on, bieng distorted by my act of running faster than ive ever moved before, i could swear i heard the distinctive two legged foot steps vearing toward me from off the trail between houses.I raced in my house, slammed the door, locked it and sat in the living room to calm down from my strange experience.The oddest feelings flushed through me then, and now. Now, before you dismiss my story as a frightened child running from noises, ill have to tell you of the strange past our 45 acres of land at the end of the dickey prairie road has had:
Around three years ago, when we had cattle and cows fenced on our property,i noticed casually of how they would always stay together and go near the barns at night, then, one day, we discoveredtwo of them killed up in the woods by the drinking creek. The killings werent average killings either. The cows didnt have a scratch on them, both had brocken necks and their eyeballs sucked out cleanly. Since those experiences, im now scared to go hiking and travel at night. Yes, average signs of fear, but, i have the weird feeling of bieng an Intruder. Thank you for your time sincerely, Shawn Murray
p.s. Im a beleiver.
ALSO NOTICED: Before the incident[about 2 years] 2 cows were killed, and ever since it happened, theres a strange silence at night and my mom was awakened by something "banging on the house"
OTHER WITNESSES: Only 1, me. I told my brother and stepdad when i ran in the house.Before the incident, i was typing on the computer.
OTHER STORIES: When i was in 4th grade, my friend heather and her brother were taking out some garbage when they saw " a giant white monkey" walk up the hill and away from the trash cans.they lived about 5 miles away, and moved to texas about 6 months after that happened. It scared them so bad that they slept with their mom and dad in fear. And, about 5 years ago, i heard that some big investigators came to look at some tracks across the molalla river from where i live.
Sunday, September 15, 2002
This feeling has never really left me.
It's a dangerous time.
And now Iraq. It seems to me that the stale and hollow arguments put forth by the administration for invasion have little basis in fact.Saddam is a dictator, a bully-boy, a dangerous loose cannon. But is it enough to warrant a unilateral attack? Pakistan has both nuclear weapons and enough Al Qaeda operatives within its borders to be a cause of real concern. Iraq has been on the Bush table since long before 9/11. How convenient that it fits in so well now, particularly since the attempt to destroy Al Qaeda has been such a dismal failure.
So what next? Air Strikes, most likely. Ground troop deployment. CNN. Wolf Blitzer.
It's no surprise that these men would have so little forsight, but the fact remains that if a full-scale attack is launched the likely scenario of Hussein launching chemical attacks on Israel and Israel retaliating with nuclear weapons quite possibly will ignite all all-out East vs West war. I am hard-put to see what advantage lies in such a course. But I am equally puzzled at the advantages of drilling in Alaska.
The sheer amount of 9/11 information is staggering. articles in The Atlantic, The New Yorker and Harpers all take different approaches. The Atlantic has done an exhaustive three-part series on the deconstruction of the Trade Center site, while the New Yorker has focused more on the personalities involved.
In all of these pieces, the unwavering sense of patriotism serves as a backdrop. Proud to be an American. United We Stand. Etc etc etc.
Weird how this corresponds with a trend in American entertainment of seeing former pop culture icons debsing themselves in a variety of ways to recapture past glory and a few bucks. Donny Osmond's head covered with leeches. What next? Hulk Hogan vs Mister T midget-tossing Gary Coleman and Webster for distance? Hell, I'd watch that.
Happy Sunday. I feel worse than ever..
Friday, September 06, 2002
Fifty Cent is a change from all that. Mind you, he's still crude, but he's a fuck of a lot mor real. Of course as I say this, the song is sayin BITCH, this nigga's gonna take yo ass home fo a gang-bang, nigga. Ah well.
At least there's Mingus, who inferred all of this without resorting to crudity.
Heard from Erica today. I met her through the Uberhaus submission site when she was but a stripling, a 15-year-old poet with a sarcastic wit. She's started college recently. Encourage her to keep in touch, will you?
Monday, August 26, 2002
1.they have children
2. They came "for a sense of closure for the families of the girls"
3. That you need to watch your babies like a hawk.
They don't mention that they are ghouls, bored and wanting nothing so much as to be on TV.
So Olivia's mom has been making her watch this shit, telling the poor kid that she can expect the same if she's not careful and that she shouldn't play with the neighbor boy because he might want to see her undies.
It makes me really mad. The kid is 8. Surely she needs to know that there is danger, but going out of the way to scare her is just stupid, I think.
Thursday, August 22, 2002
Wednesday, August 21, 2002
It was a trip looking at the old Uberhaus site. The Internet archive is very cool indeed,especially if you've been messing with it as long as I have. The dot com graveyard is littered with corpses of dead sites, all of which are readily accessible through the wayback machine.
I've been scribbling a fair amount into a little black notebook of late, reading and scribbling, scribbling and reading. It's the thinking that I'm fond of, but the writing is an important element as well. It tethers me in the world and somehow makes me believe that everything has a point. Such a simple thing, really.
Wednesday, August 14, 2002
Time was, indeed! O for the unreachable and perfect past! That Hegel... I don't know that lamenting the loss is much in the way of comfort. Why is it that the smallest lack is so keenly felt while the greatest abundance can be completely discounted? Perhaps negative power is indeed the superior. Or at least the more efficient (discounting the argument that the smallest amount of light completely dispells total darkness). Perhaps God is a gray man and wants everythng to be indistinct and fuzzy. Or perhaps God has just moved out of the neighborhood and is seeking greener pastures.
Hey baby, god belives in YOU say the Christians. Without the baby part. O Brother.
I am stirred somewhat by the challenge of my current fiscal situation but I know that at the end of it at best all I will have produced will be a small pile of money. And dear lord another year is gone. I must remember that I am still but three years into my five-year allotment to try to liberate myself from having to work at shit I didn't like. Ambitious, I suppose. I have taken some time away from it, but having not achieved the goal I can hardly but dwell upon it even at rest. I have been occasionally writing poems, but they come out like I had spiritual stomach flu.
AH well, I have a wonderful wife (glad to see her back after what has been a damn-near six month absense) and a charming kid. And it's back to the first question, the one about lacks.
Thursday, August 08, 2002
I think it comes down to a lack of trust. We don't know each other well enough yet to unconditionally trust one another and so under strain we fall apart. On each other, and very messily. I say the meanest shit when I am angry and regret it mightily afterward. My opinion of myself could hardly be lower these days.
Wednesday, August 07, 2002
We went last week to see the Nina which has docked at the riverfront. Even though it was a replice, it stank of ancient evil. A black ship indeed, it was Columbus' favorite. He was a bloodthirsty bastard, rupedly impaling bibles on pikes and carrying them through villages to demonstrate Spanish ruthlessness lest the Indios get a clue and kill the vastly outnumbered sailors. A very European technique (we must remember that in 1492, it was quite common for villaged to buy a pardoned prisoner's contract so the public torture could take place anyway; no one like to be deprived of their amusement).
Dreary thoughts on this bright day. At least I am not feeling quite so despairing. Maybe even a glimmer of hope?
Monday, August 05, 2002
Friday, August 02, 2002
The Spanish have a saying that everythng changes but God. This somewhat limiting idea is a source of much comfort, I would imagine. It casts a loght of imperfection upon us, the creation, while assuring that any shhortfalls in life come from us and not the Almighty. Milosz has noted that there is probably no greater comfort to the evildoes than athieism because what could be better than escaping ultimate judgment? Certainly Goering lived fat and if he wasn't expecting hell than even his trial woul have been more amusing than otherwise. I often wonder about this belief in justice and balance. These make humans noble, perhaps, but the shadow they cast could certainly be a dark one.
Today I did some cartoons for the first time in a great while. >An old idea. But I sure liked the feeling. My tablet rocks. I have no excuse whatsoever for not doing more comics. Shit, I did the thing in Flash.
Tuesday, July 30, 2002
I am a heartless bastard I suppose. Life is not all bad, but when one feels as I do now it sure seems so.
Friday, July 26, 2002
Wednesday, July 24, 2002
Sound familiar? I certainly hope not. I wouldn't wish this on anyone.
Saturday, July 20, 2002
Last night my friend James was over with his wife and their two kids. We had a bit of a barbecue. True to form, I poured much wine and before long James was quite drunk and revealing such indescretions as his hatred for Mr. Plymouth and his lust for pregnant women (of which Haley is a lovely specimen. After a point he was quiteclear in his rage against corporate America, rich people, inequality and so on. It was a bit much because his opinions were pretty juvenile and poorly-thought out. Not that he didn't have a point, but it's just stuff we've all heard before. The world is vastly unfair. None of knows what we will do nin a crisis until the crisis is full upon us. Talking about how bad the Nazis were is a bore. James' wife Amy was pretty embarassed. My wife has been in her time too, i suppose.
Wednesday, May 01, 2002
This blog is configured so that you can't tell when it was most recently updated. I seem more current than I am, I guess. I have several all-flash blogs I've been using to great effect. They are very fun to do, for sure. it's always the quality of the writing that pans out in the end. Which is why the attendence here is so mediorcre!
Wednesday, April 17, 2002
From An IM chat I had earlier:
Sub2rainEN: Hi, sorry I keep missing you on IG. It stinks.
telesphory: no lie there. sucks
telesphory: how are you?
Sub2rainEN: So does this mean we're both narcissists?
Sub2rainEN: Fine and you?
Sub2rainEN: What are the odds of you finding another mirror photo, though, that's the thing.
telesphory: very well, thanks. had a bit of wine earlier.
telesphory: ah, long odds
Sub2rainEN: Always helps.
telesphory: one thread behind.
Sub2rainEN: Yeah, not like it is something you could search by in the matches.
telesphory: What did you have for dinner?
Sub2rainEN: Pork chops and applesauce
telesphory: very american.
telesphory: or maybe chinese
Sub2rainEN: Nope, a Brady Bunch line. One pork chop with apples.
telesphory: peter being bogart.
Sub2rainEN: plus wilted asparagus. They packed up the salad bar before I had a chance.
telesphory: I hate that. Smearing up the sneeze guard.
telesphory: Dinner at beefstael charlies?
telesphory: beefsteak, I mean?
telesphory: Although stael works, too.
Sub2rainEN: Nope, there are meals included where I live.
telesphory: Ah. Are you institutionalized, by chance?
telesphory: Not that there's anything WRONG with that...
telesphory: Or perhaps a school?
Sub2rainEN: LOL (really), no...but sometimes it feels that way. It's like a dorm, so I can relive college in perpetuity.
Sub2rainEN: Yes, but you thought institutionalized first. Very telling.
telesphory: Well, it IS New York.
telesphory: Giuilani's gone. Be very like Bloomberg to put Internet terminals at riker's...
Sub2rainEN: Thought I met far more freaks in the suburbs. Nothing else to do, I guess.
telesphory: That's all of America, my dear
telesphory: I'm looking out at 44th street right now.
telesphory: Times Square is so fucking clean it breaks my heart...
Sub2rainEN: I didn't realize the Chrysler building was lit all night.
Sub2rainEN: I'm looking at it now.
Sub2rainEN: ESB is dark.
telesphory: I can't see it from my window.
telesphory: Red White and Blue most of the time.
telesphory: My block is lit like Christmas.
Sub2rainEN: Yep, it was tonight, but it's already turned off tonight.
telesphory: Wonder why...
Sub2rainEN: I think it goes off at midnight or 1.
telesphory: Maybe for peace in the Middle East?
Sub2rainEN: No, it was on earlier.
telesphory: Oh yeah...
Sub2rainEN: I figured the Chrysler kept a similar schedule.
telesphory: So, the dorm thing...
telesphory: never heard of meals included before.
telesphory: Rent control, yes. rent stabilization, yes..
Sub2rainEN: It's a hotel for women. Most of them include meals.
telesphory: but MEALS?
telesphory: I don't qualify.
Sub2rainEN: I guess most people think those went the way of virgins in the '60s
telesphory: Virgins in the 60's had a rough go...
telesphory: The Kennedy years and all
Sub2rainEN: Nope, but some take senior citizens. Some are all men and they are cheaper.
telesphory: I've been in a few now at again. They all seem to be named St. James.
Sub2rainEN: Hadn't heard of that one.
telesphory: So, you really can't think of a lie? Good or bad?
telesphory: Or was that just for the ad?
Sub2rainEN: No, I couldn't at the time. Sure I've told plenty!
telesphory: Oh yes.
telesphory: Unavoidable in a polite society.
Sub2rainEN: But not one that seemed particularly interesting.
telesphory: What do you dream about?
telesphory: If you don't mind me asking?
Sub2rainEN: So often I don't remember.
telesphory: Lie or dream?
Sub2rainEN: Dreams -- often mundane. Like I'm at work/school and something happens, a certain person comes up or calls. Really dull, the ones I remember.
Sometimes I get chased by a killer.
telesphory: I like the little warn icon at the bottom of AIM. So telling of the kinds of converstations one has here.
Sub2rainEN: I don't have as many problems on AIM as ICQ -- get all sorts of marketing crap and porn URLs on that.
telesphory: Oh, i dream of places mostly. An airport. A mountain city. People I barely remember. Sometimes it's really nice, sometimes not.
telesphory: Oh yeah. Hotmail is the wprst for that stuff.
telesphory: Not that this is one of those conversations, mind you...
Sub2rainEN: I know! AOL was pretty bad when I had it. Friends on AOL inevitably delete messages from their friends by accident, wading through all the spam.
Sub2rainEN: Thank you.
telesphory: Do you work? I mean, a job and all that? Your profile said you're a writer...
telesphory: A tough go in the best of times
telesphory: I mean, it is late and all
Sub2rainEN: I had a job. Got fired last week. Or, as I like to think of it, emancipated.
telesphory: Ah. What happened.
Sub2rainEN: It was secretarial, paid the bills anyway. But I need time to write and create and pursue freelance stuff. So the entire time I was there, I begged to have an appropriate work area or at least a few hours a week so I could do the more complex stuff, that required concentration. My desk was in a hallway for months, even during construction (jackhammering!). Then I got moved by the copier.
telesphory: Jesus. No. I fortunately or unfortunately do not work. It's weird. My great-grandfather Lucius was one of the Ball brothers.
Sub2rainEN: It was bad news. I wrote my boss a memo asking to work from home a half day a week or somewhere more secluded at work for an hour or so a day, so I could keep up. His response was that he couldn't meet my demands for a private office (which I never mentioned).
telesphory: Ball Jar. I'm sure you've seen one.
Sub2rainEN: I've owned a few.
telesphory: That man is an ass.
telesphory: You'd probably work more. Guilt is so much more motivating than shame.
Sub2rainEN: I had to force the issue. It's one thing to have a day job and I'm the kind of person who has a work ethic. But I am also creative and need to have a life, so I'm not willing to work overtime and take work home after working a full day, everyday, just to get by and still be behind. Screw that!
telesphory: So anyway, I had money jammed down my throat. Being weathy is really weird. really guilty. If you are born to money you lose the American dream. It's reversed, actually. Fitzgerald had it all wrong.
telesphory: Yeah, screw that.
telesphory: Good for you. Ethics are so misunderstood.
telesphory: Unfortunately, the culture says you are what you do.
Sub2rainEN: Hmmmm...never thought of it that way. Though recently I had a crush on a boy who I thought might have money and it made me uncomfortable. It can be hard to cross class boundaries.
Sub2rainEN: Not that I'm a person who believes in such things, but it can become an issue.
telesphory: This is the US, tough. It's not class. It's money. If you found fifty million in a suitcase it'd be the same as if you were a Kennedy.
telesphory: Not so in England, but the whole country needs to take a good crap in my opinion.
Sub2rainEN: What kills me is when money becomes an issue in dating. I've heard so many guys complain that women only date guys with money and that is the only thing women find attractive about guys. It's funny, that's never been a consideration for me. It never occured to me anyone else would "take care of" me but me.
Sub2rainEN: We do still have a line between new and old money.
telesphory: Maybe it's that money will make men confident. Or feel imprtant. Oddly, I usually hide it as much as I can. Grifters, cons and so forth are all over. I'm young, but I've been educated by some hard cases. I used to run away a lot. Stayed at some hotels near the Bowery, actually. Park Ave to the Bowery by way of Yellow cab.
Sub2rainEN: Which I'm reminded of whenever I see "Cribs"
telesphory: Yes, there is a line, but it's not as etched as you miiight tink. It's manners mostly. I've met some very courtly homeless before.
Sub2rainEN: Nope, the complaint insinuated that all women were gold diggers.
telesphory: Like men aren't.
telesphory: That man was an ass, my dear. An absolute ass.
Sub2rainEN: It's a show on MTV, where they go to pop stars' homes. Really tacky.
telesphory: Ah. I have a big ass stereo but no TV whatever.I am wary of "any" "all" "Always" and "never"
Sub2rainEN: It wasn't just one man, I've heard it again and again. It's like we're living in a Marilyn Monroe movie and the only possibility is women trading their looks for money. What of ugly women and poor men?
telesphory: Although I saw Fear Factor once in a bar.
telesphory: The best they could do, toots!
telesphory: No, seriously. NY has been about $$ since day one.
telesphory: Not unlikely that many people share that callow philosophy
telesphory: And there is some truth to it, but generalities are largely nonesense.
telesphory: men and women both are gold diggers. With no diggers there'd be no rush.
telesphory: Ball made it's money on canning, you know.
telesphory: Frugal women with big gardens.
telesphory: Tomatoes. Peas. Corn.
telesphory: they were spud diggers. And their men were poor.
telesphory: I mean
telesphory: Do you live in a basement, perchance?
Sub2rainEN: Nope. Often work in them, though.
telesphory: I thought with your moniker...
Sub2rainEN: I was reading Kerouac at the time.
telesphory: Ah. Normal Mailer said that On the Road was "typing"
telesphory: But then again, he stabbed his wife at a cocktail party.
Sub2rainEN: I never finished the book, I couldn't get into it.
telesphory: Short man complex, you know?
telesphory: On the Road is very depressing. It's a gay love story, i think.
telesphory: I think Jack was in love with Neal Cassady (Dean)
telesphory: he sure is mooney over hime
telesphory: I like Bukowski pretty well. John fante. Alice Munro.
Sub2rainEN: I never got into that one, either. Boring and pretentious.
telesphory: A young man's writing. A cultural event. Not very interesting except as an artifact.
Sub2rainEN: Guess that's it. I missed the boat on that one.
telesphory: Who do you read?
telesphory: Say, you like the Brothers Johnson?
telesphory: For music, i mean?
Sub2rainEN: Haven't been reading lately, but some favorites are Plath, Margaret Atwood, Fitzgerald. Haven't read nearly enough.
telesphory: I like Sylvia well, but her death haunts me. Which Fitzgerald do you like?
Sub2rainEN: Gatsby. Tender is the Night I didn't get at the time. I think I was too young to understand the whole relationship.
Sub2rainEN: Bernice Bobs Her Hair
telesphory: Fitzgerald was all over the rich. He was in love with whole idea of big money.
Sub2rainEN: I'm reading Plath's journals and the writing is phenomenal. Better than many writers' published work.
telesphory: His story "The Diamond as big as the Ritz" was written like porn.
telesphory: Oh, she had talent. When she offed herself her husband Ted wrote The Iron Giant for their kids.
Sub2rainEN: Yeah, he had a morbid fascination with the rich and fitting among them.
telesphory: he was pretty gross about it. Married to a lunatic didn't help. Neither did the drinking. Hemingway's A Movable Feast is a must-read for the Scotty fan.
Sub2rainEN: I've been realizing with this job how sucked into that world I've become. I don't have any room in my brain for the things that are important to me, like books and music. I'd been thinking of quitting, taking something with a lower salary and lower demands, so I can have a brain again.
telesphory: It's hard.
telesphory: You get out to see music much?
Sub2rainEN: True, it's an expensive city.
telesphory: jesus, yes.
Sub2rainEN: No, I've completely lost touch with music.
telesphory: Because it's expensive?
Sub2rainEN: I've been thinking back to about 5 years ago. I made half as much, but had far less stress, always made the time to read and write and have adventures. Somewhere along the line, I drifted from that carefree self.
Sub2rainEN: Partly the expense, partly just losing touch with what was going on in the world in general.
telesphory: You have anyinterest in seeing Elvin Jones on Saturday night at the Blue note?
telesphory: I could send a car for you
telesphory: And be in it, of course...
Sub2rainEN: I just made a date for Saturday night. That's a sweet offer, though.
telesphory: Ah, my luck
Sub2rainEN: I've been meaning to hit the Blue Note.
I lie, I went to BB King's a few months back to see the New Jazz All Stars or somesuch. Only because a friend was in from London.
Sub2rainEN: Thank goodness he came to town. It was so great to listen to music, have a nice meal, drink a few bottles of wine.
telesphory: That's a cool place. I slipped out to see the Mahavishnu Project at Bottom Line a couple weeks ago.It's really hard to meet anyone. My friend took that horrific pic of me for the ad. He said that the ladies would like it.
Sub2rainEN: I wouldn't think attractive people would have a problem in this town.
telesphory: My butler, actually. If you can believe it. My parents sort of keep watch one me, you know?
telesphory: I'm of age and everything, but they are somewhat unimpressed with my self-discipline.
Sub2rainEN: Sure, my parents would, if they could.
telesphory: Mine can and do.
telesphory: I'm in the bedroom typing this on my laptop.
telesphory: They don't live here, but I am almost never alone.
Sub2rainEN: Me too. Of course, all I have is a bedroom!
Sub2rainEN: It's terribly ironic that this is the kind of place good families sent their daughters in the '50s to keep them pure in the big, rotten apple.
telesphory: that's the Bell Jar. Rehab and all. They don;t trust me. One weekend I flew thirty perople I hardly knew to Paris and we all partied for about four days until my dad put a stop to it.
telesphory: It was ugly. Paris is a big town for E and we were EEEEEEEEEEEEEEing hard.
Sub2rainEN: I spent my rent money on a weekend in New Orleans last month. It's just a matter of scale.
telesphory: I think you've got me beat. But being busted by French hotel police when you're frying is no picnic.
telesphory: I like you, Sub2rainEN.
Sub2rainEN: I beat up a guy who I thought broke into a neighbor's apartment and had to talk to the cops while stoned out of my mind, courtesy of the local homeless hippie godmother of Haight Street. Talk about paranoia!
Sub2rainEN: Thanks, you're cool yourself.
telesphory: Beat him up? Right on.
telesphory: My name is Luc. Lucius Ball IV. Lucius Ball the Last, I am prone to calling myself.
Sub2rainEN: I thought he'd broken in and was lying in wait for a girl who lived there to come home. He was drunk and humping her bed when I got up there. It sickened me. I dragged him down the stairs.
telesphory: I hear someone stirring. My door is locked, though
telesphory: Isn't this sad? I feel like Bruce Wayne.
telesphory: The butler's name is Alfred, by the way. Swear to fucking god.
telesphory: My parents are really sadistic.
Sub2rainEN: Could be worse.
telesphory: He's a great guy. Big black man from Trinidad. Huge stiner, which is nice and not so nice.
Sub2rainEN: They could be sadistic AND poor. Ha!
telesphory: stoner, I mean.
Sub2rainEN: A stoned Triney butler named Alfred. Too much.
telesphory: I could deal with that. A sadist with money is raw indeed. I tell you. Imagine you are on your own, having fun and you get nailed. Wham.
telesphory: Yeah, he's cool. But hard, too. He likes Elvin Jones, so off we go to Elvin Jones.
telesphory: I could run. I might. I've tried before, but I get caught by my cards.
telesphory: You know? I can't get enough cash to go far. I'd need top shrug it all and get a job, I suppose. Then my story'd be worth telling.
Sub2rainEN: I've been on my own for years and my mom still nags me, as if she has a right to say anything about how I spend my money or live my life. Parents are parents.
telesphory: Yes, I suppose they are. i'm envious, though. I feel pretty useless most of the time.I suppose my time is coming. Sooner or later I'll be free.
Sub2rainEN: You could plan ahead, buy a coach ticket with cash and horde a bit of cash for a month or two.
telesphory: I need probably six months to stay ahead of the detectives. I'm watched, too. Likely this session will be gone over at some point. Even my laptop is not my own.
Sub2rainEN: Once I took Greyhound across country for a month. I only spent $1500 for rooms, meals, souveneirs, tours, everything.
Sub2rainEN: Then don't log it.
telesphory: Greyhound is a great idea. Maybe I could fly somewhere like El Paso and take the bus from there, eh?
Sub2rainEN: I started the trip at the Port Authority. They have passes for 2-8 weeks. A lot of people turn their nose up at Greyhound, but it was one of the best things I ever did. NY-CA.
telesphory: Oh, I don't. But somehow it gets found. I use a Windows machine and I think it leaves a log wheter you want it to or not.
telesphory: Do you keep this AOL handle? Could I reach at it another time?
Sub2rainEN: Yep, it was a blast. Stayed in youth hostels -- cheaper and you meet people. I still keep in touch with some of the people I met on that trip.
Sub2rainEN: Yep, I've had this handle for years.
telesphory: very nice. I've got to go just now, but I've enjoyed our chat very much.
Sub2rainEN: As long as you're an adult, do what you want. You have to decide if you'll be controlled by the money.
Sub2rainEN: Kind of how I decided about my job, but on a different scale.
Sub2rainEN: Thanks, I enjoyed it too. Have fun on Saturday. Heck, everyday!
telesphory: I'll write you again soon. Maybe I'll do it, you know? I'm 21, so what can they do to me? I'm supposed to go to Harvard Law in the fall, but it's about as appealing as a bad sunburn just now. Maybe I'll fuck with them and go running for a bit.
telesphory: You're a treat. Take care.
Sub2rainEN: Enjoy your life, if Sept 11 taught us anything, it's that it's too short to take for granted.
Friday, February 22, 2002
Saturday, February 09, 2002
Tuesday, January 22, 2002
Needless to say, he lost the client.
Something to think about.
I am really sick of being lied to. I'm tired of other people's depression and self-delusion governing my life to such a great extent. Looking at the so-called "great lives" of the past two hundred years, I am particularly struck by those who have conquered their depression and go on ahead in spite of it. Merriweather Lewis, Winston Churchill, Theodore Roosevelt... they all battled depression in one form and another. U.S. Grant, too. But was it the extraordinary circumstances that allowed them to rise to the occasion? What of famously, romantically depressed people like Dorothy Parker, Sylvia Plath, Kurt Cobain? Surely they are as identifiable by their disease as their accomplishments?
Perhaps it's that the first group made no excuses at all and the second was famous for the eloquence of them.
At any rate, I'm sick of it.
Thursday, January 17, 2002
So, I think that Mr. Bush was drinking all alone watching that playoff game. Yep. I think he's done it before and that this time there was a big bruise that could not be explained away. A pretzel lodged in the throat, for God's sake? I four-year-old coulkd come up with a better excuse that that one. I think that the Bush administration has reached its pinnacle and now will need to answer for its behavior. Such as Mr. Ashcroft's rounding up of a thousand people, not releasing their names and trying them with tribunals. Dear lord, we stand for it. United we stand for it.
Of course, the American populace has always been ignorant. As Dany Ackroyd said in Tommy Boy, "What the American People don't know makes me rich."
How are YOU today?
Tuesday, January 15, 2002
Often these unconscious little things are "tells." Red flags, perhaps, or perhaps little tics in the machinery that betray a larger flaw.
Monday, January 14, 2002
Anyway, I need to get some help for this shit.
Friday, January 11, 2002
I have long since ceased caring about what happens here in the NetWorld. Once my lifeline, it has now been relegated to a big bunch of claptrap. Self-indulgent drivel such as you might find in any bar. Lacking eye contact, but what else is new?
I am reminded of Lulu having Jimi Hendrix on her show. Lulu, full of late 60's pop glam, was thrilled to have such a sensation on her show. She was going to sing "Hey Joe," a song made famous by Love. It'd be a duet. Jimi, high and freaked out by the breakup of Cream, had other ideas and immediately launched into an imprompteau (and totally unrehearsed) "Sunshine of Your Love" cover at top volume. Sloppy, loud and rude. Lulu left her own stage in tears.
I feel like setting fire to my own house and dying in it. I feel like vanishing into the merchant marine, like going to a country like Argentina or Afghanistan to find out what real suffering is like. The tortured, self-indugent gentry who flocked to the trenches in 1916 have much in common with me. Soft times have begat a reluctant, self-loathing fool who craves validation and deeper meaning. I wish to not keep repeating the same mistakes but I keep on keeping on. My wife (new wife) feels abandoned and alone, victime of cruelty and wicked self-indulgence on my part. My seven-year-old daughter talks to me of suicide. My father talks to me of new computers and long-dead poets and excuses for why he never follwed his dream. My brother is silent, suffering in his own world.
My dog is dead, killed by me at animal control, and I didn't even have the courage to be with him at the last.
Anything I thought I was is a lie, and what I am left with is less than I would desire. Dreams have died hard in me, but I've not been willing to work for them, prefering divine intervention.
This sounds like a suicide note, but I have no intention of killing myself. I do not believe in anything except eternal defeat (and, oddly, reincarnation). I also believe in the redemptive power of art. I do not believe in nobility, humanity, altruism, holiness, rightousness or any ultimate good. I do not believe in any definition of God as such (except as regards to capitalization). I don't believe in purpose except as a rationalization after the fact.
I am empty, deceived. I am useless. I have failed and am not even rich to compenate myself for such emptiness. I have shed no truth burt have squandered my gifts minute by minute on the most trivial of pursuits. I have no protoge or legacy, nor do I believe that they would have value had I developed them. I admire those such as Czelaw Milosz who continue to struggle even as old men, but I do not believe they have any ultimate good effect on humanity. Except for immediate self-serving purpose, I believe that high art is is sham, a cowards game. Homer wrote the only war story and it is always the same however well told.
Why I am even trying to emote this in this venue is a mystery to me. The optimist in me would say that this is evidence that I do indeed believe in something.
Nihilism, true nihilism, can only be arrived at and never espoused. Belief in nothing is no belief at all. The most torturous state I've seen so far is quasi-nihilism. I cannot truly believe in nothing because I cannot release my idea of myself, my dreams and my ambitions. Everything must fit into the mold I have cast. I am 36 and act as though I have all the time in the world.
TheTao says there is freedom in nothingness. Show me this.
Show me this.