Arcade Fire

I got an apartment! The same day I saw that Arcade Fire was playing, so I saw them play.It was probably the best single-band concert I've ever been to. A Mr. Mike Canales is signing on with me for this brand new place downtown. Its only a 5 minute walk to the Gaslamp! I would say its is in fact the coolest apartment under half a million dollars in San Diego. You can all come sleep in my living room, soon to be stocked with Goodwill's finest!

A Day in San Diego

Walking alone I let the World possess me.

They are beautiful and many, yet I could consume them all. Passing briskly by a sign a glow blurs my sight and burns me. I see a woman at this moment and I judge her. I think of ways to dismiss her even as the chill of winter drains me. I think of how much better I am but as this light blinds me. It is not but a few more steps and I find my place again. Left to my own accord, left unthreatened, I drop my guard, my wings, my shelter. I see children beautiful and young. I see women of all types of beauty and I think I could be happy the rest of my life with the stay of the women within my sight at this or any other moment out on the street. I think should I do something about it? There was a beautiful woman about my age and the Buddhist had gotten to her, she was shelling out something and I watched a man of great poverty approach, he hung around the nearby trash can but I imagined him going for the opportunity of her generosity. It was in this same place I stood an hour earlier with two apples. I had paid $4.00 for 4 apples at a Vons. The grocer noticed me eyeing them, I asked if these "Grapples" were just sweet apples, or a hybrid. He indicated the later and went and got a knife. He opened a package and shaved an apple, then cut a piece for me to try. It was very sweet and unusual. I watched him carry away the package. It would be thrown out so I could take one bite? I bought a different package of 4 and headed out. I ate one right away, a second while watching fire trucks pass me. I didn't want the last two. I thought I was going to see a movie so I was in that spot looking for a bum that I had passed twice. The second time I passed him I doubted him. He moved as a man of ability. Although he wore the same clothes the man walked as if he had a place to go, and it is by that, that I judged him to be someone else. I was wrong. I felt this cold. I thought how strange it me, since the last time I gave anything to a bum was because I was scared of where I was living. In the most dangerous area in San Francisco, I lived, barely housed with nothing but my mother to provide any food or clothing or shelter. I gave a bum $6.00 in hopes that he would not try to harm me or my existence on another day. So it was that the last time I gave to a bum was when I was on the verge of being one myself. None of this I was thinking about as the beautiful young woman was giving to this Buddhist who had books on Yoga. I only thought it would be funny if I took my approach as I oft tend to do in a manner most dominating and mocking by walking up to her as the Buddhist and bum try to get something from her I would ask for money too, because it would be funny, but the thought hurt me, since it's a truth I was feeling. I may not be on the verge of homelessness, though I have no home, I have recently dumped away about as much money as I make in a year, it was most of my savings, and all I get in return for that is that maybe I saved the house my mother couldn't. In her death a void was created and this void sucked away my $10,000 with no promise of anything. The Grapples as they were called could go to no one it seemed so I took out a third and ate at it. I read completely the plastic container that held the apples and I read something that set fire to my heart like a lighter, small annoying, but not so dangerous in it's standard dose. These "Grapples" were not hybrids, they were artificially flavored apples. I had paid a dollar a piece for grape flavoring on dime a piece apples. I threw what I had not eaten into the trash feeling it's better there than these lies going into the mouth of an innocent bum. I did not go to the beautiful woman handing out to the Buddhist, and none of this did cross my mind at the time, for the World was possessing me at that moment and when I turned to continue in my effort to kill my day I was blinded by the light of a sign and in my blurred vision I judged a woman as I passed.

THE MAGICIAN AND THE PRISM

Transparent. To call something such is to insult. Why? Is not a window the most appreciated feature in a room? Is not the truth of all things the most sought after goal? As if knowing what is, is the end of what was. Maybe so. Dissecting a movie critically, angularly, edictally, plot-wise, ruins the entertainment. Respect is lost, not gained when someone knows how a magician does tricks. As if knowing is being. Maybe so.


Transparency in itself isn't beautiful without something behind it to appreciate, without light to dance through it, like through a prism. Though, nothing is beautiful without light. The physical transparency is then not so logically associated with the conceptual transparency. Though they are associated.


To see through, conceptually, is to understand. Understanding though, is not passing through; it is entering and staying, and being. So to understand, that is what is what the negative connotation implies. Not a glass of water, but the water within, it's molecules, it's temperature, it's mass, it's reaction to, or remarkably abreaction to what it surrounds, physically, chemically, lovingly.


Understanding is the great sin. It is the original sin. God would have you believe this. I don't fear God though. I fear you. Your ignorance, it isn't natural, it is by design. It is not my design. It is not my ignorance. It is not my God. It is my understanding.


Tell me now Great Silence, what is substance? Tell me now Great Silence, why do you exist? How do you exist? I am transparent because I am honest. My path, my actions are with reason and morality, they can not distort. I am transparent because I hide nothing and I show you the world around me as it passes through me. You are transparent because I can understand you. Because even your lies are clear to me. You are transparent because there is nothing to see.

Silence

You've found your screams are nothing to the silence and still. You know your matter is no match for 3 inches of cement. There is no light but you can see. There is no answer but you understand. You prepare. I hoped you would. I gave you nothing, I made you weak. Everything you value means nothing here. I hoped you had learned. I dreamed about it. I am my own justification for my actions. We share this loneliness. You know it doesn't matter who you are or what you've done. This emptiness fills you. A smile could save you. No one smiles at me. I can't even get a smile! They stare. They glance. They dance profoundly and make it hard for me to breath but never do they smile. What am I worth? Not even enough to be despised. Despise me. I can't take forgiveness. Forgiveness is more nothing. I'm sorry I couldn't bring myself to hurt you more. I fed you. I kept you warm. You may have been confused. I really had no intention of treating you well or using you in any way but this, to kill me. I will open the door. I will stand in your way. You will have no choice. I am sorry if this haunts you. If you do manage to escape, and I remain living, I don't know how I could stop myself then. So I keep you here. I make you weak. I just need your finger. I just need your passion to finish me. Your desire to live must be greater than mine. Your desire to destroy me must defeat your desire to show compassion. I am sick of your compassion. This world's pity makes nothing of me. If only I could be loved! You all stare at me. WHAT IS THERE? You do not say. Silence, and you fade away.

Wrote this in my nowhere

My heart pounding, my mind racing. Perhaps it is only in my sleep that I know of these wonderful times of excellence and understanding. Times of whelming pleasure and satisfaction. Though some aren't dreams, some trancend what a dream could possibly generate.The warmth of someone beside me, someone whose focus is on my pleasure, and my focus is on theirs. Or the little triumphs in life hearing the buzzer go off as I'm busy drowning some poor bastard who dared to score on me, and knowing it is nothing but glory that awaits me when I get out of the water. The feeling I get when I finish a race and I pull my head out of the water and watch in calm as the hands of my opponents finish their struggle.

Though I know these feelings. It's the lasting feelings that I truly strive for. They may as well have been dreams. You look at me now, I am not swimming in a race. I'm not stopping a ball. I am not going to bed with someone in my arms. I am slow, and weak, and alone. This is the torture of my everyday. I wear no mask. I cannot lie. I respect this beautiful world more than you can imagine. I love reality and
I could never betray it. I find though that it is only in evil can the lasting pleasures exist. You do not respect the man that won't lie, you respect the image of the liars facade. You do not value the accomplishments of the intelligent analyst, you glorify the perpetual ignorance of the uneducated unthinkings perveyors of insurmountable feats of illogic expressed in media, and social gatherings. You see it
is with great selfishness that I declare you guilty. That I declare my refusal to submit. Truthfully though I am unable to submit. It isn't a choice for me, I am not a man who chooses truth, I am truthful. I am not a man who chooses logic, I am logical. My actions though, I choose them and mightily do I destroy myself in recognition of my ineptitude in ignorance. Plainly I punish myself for being right, by doing wrong.

Little left is there for me to imagine. I have conceived my way through every plot. I have only to actually face life before I can die. Now I find it repulsive. I see these sources of infinite pain and loss bursting around me, the shrapnel ripping holes in my soul I am a monster from a distance.

I am to be feared if I am right, I am to be feared if I am wrong. I will not play along in these games.

What can I say when I love you all and fear you all? I am disarmed. I am a source of destruction. Every wasted minute. Every misplaced trust. Everyone of you who put faith in anything kills me.

Dear God all I want is for the pain to subside. You won't do that though will you? No I have to hurt. I must endure. I must be the epitome of perseverance. everything has to be ten times harder. I can't even be literate in my own torture. Ouch, how about that? Can you understand that? Ouch is the expression of every fucking breath I take. Every thought I possess. I cannot be taken seriously. Nowun could possibly suffer as I do. I must be lying. I can't even be granted this o lord. You even take from me all credibility. My life is so absurd it makes laughter as vomit blood
and tears pour to the Earth. This Earth that I love is hard and unforgiving. Thank you lord for the bottle which I am about to receive, the alcohol within can take away my fear. Thank you lord for the bullet which I am about to receive, the gun can propel it into my brain and my solution becomes permanent. It is only one more thing that I ask of you my lord. Give me the strength I need to commit this act of treason. It is only with your strength my lord that I can destroy the monster. The great sinner. The destroyer of hope that I have become. I am a joke my lord
I shall laugh myself into oblivion.

Measure, Glow, Tie

His time is running out sir. The gun is in his hand sir.
Let it be she said; let him see he said.
There are a thousand more like him and they will not be so weak.
Then he is no priority sir? We can let him go sir?
To the wind go the patterns; to the ashes go the matters.
We will take what we can until there's nothing to lose.

His light will not die sir, the spark flares in the night sir.
Close your mouth in jest; shut your eyes to the rest.
Follow it in the dark, he has no path but there is an end.
The light I will follow sir. I see that which we destroyed sir.
The focus will turn away; the gaze will disintegrate.
Speak not a word, should the light bear you down.

He eats it up sir, the world as he passes sir.
The river has edges; the mountain has ledges.
The soil is his poison and the flow is his confusion.
Indeed sir! He is dead sir!
He'd never be she said; its better now he said.
Stand up straight, now tilt and bow. Send away the bitter taste and
enjoy what we can take from even the strangest, weakest, and most lost
of them in their waning hours.

This Suicide Is Ripe

The reigning passion of the dawn is an ominous perception of all that matters in the life that is chosen. I wake each morning with a vague apprehension for my continual breath and a sense of astonishment towards the aching of my life. This is merely a natural response to the transition from dreams of my mind to the nightmare of my reality. Not a decidedly pleasant experience, nor one I seek in any matter, the masochist that I am. I simply lose myself in the process of consciousness and know only that my life is no longer anything I enjoy. In the developing of my actions I let my thoughts die and my spirit subside, I let to the wind and the plants of my environment all my decisions. Alas to my best efforts go my failures and all my glories go to the earth. It is at this cross point that my mind becomes active again and longs for only one solution. In my nights I am free, but only to wake again and this is no longer tolerable. So it is that as soon as I begin to care again, I only think to end my pain. I want the strength of resolve, so I practice each day. I tell myself what I think I need to believe. I tell myself what my other options would produce, and let my mind seethe in self-hatred.



It is this way unless I can fully distract myself with some mind numbing exercise that can able my willing mind to spend as much time as possible in a state that isn't actively planning it's own destruction. So it is that only when I am in performance of special circumstance do I feel any waking relief. Writing, eating, watching movies and television, are easy outs, but the information must come fast and must be relatively original or I begin to become very active in analysis and too often conclude that in order for such a situation as I am experiencing to suck less I am only to put a gun to my head and relieve the first round into my brain.


Rarely do I find such waking fantasy that equals dream life and so I go to bed quite active in desire and planning. I spend at least an hour each night as I do most of my more lethargic and monotonous day periods thinking up ways to insult myself and destroy any fathoming of self respect or love. It is in this calm that I can then once again get to planning my inevitable suicide. Always promising my wary self that such finality although perfectly evil is the only way, and that I needn't worry too much this night for this finality will not take place tomorrow. For one year now this has been a frequent passion of mine. When the sun breaks on the life I am choosing you now understand why there is no smile on my face or any perception of what this day will develop into in the scheme of my nullified existence.

Mi corazon, ha!! How about my handshake?

What am I supposed to say? I want to meet you. How about that? I can't sell myself very well. I am not a salesman. When do I quit?

You are cute and single and obviously very intelligent and observant and real. I am attracted to that. Very much.

If you read my blog posts you get a very interesting view of me.But you can't really get to know me through my blogs. Only direct discussion. Because I leave out so much. You don't know if you'll like my personal touch. In person is the best I'd say. I'm always honest, so I only get more real the closer you get to me. I don't want to write any of this. I want things handed to me. But you, you are still keeping quiet. You can't get hurt if you don't give anybody a chance eh? Yeah I understand. I just work the other way around. I try harder.

North Island Jack Rabbit

Back before North Island was a military base, the only reason people came to North Island was to hunt Jack Rabbits. Funny thing is, they're still here. I see them every night. Dozens of them. Just this night I chased about 6 or 7 of them around a baseball field. I can see their underground lairs everywhere, the entrances leave huge piles of uprooted grass and dirt. They only come out at night, which may be a local adaptation to avoid humans and cars, as I've seen plenty of Jack Rabbits out in the day in other parts of California. I seem to be the only person who knows about these rabbits. The simple reason being, I'm the only loser on this fucking base who has to come back to the ship on a nightly basis and whose only means of transportation are his legs. I might catch one of these beasts to have it studied, or eaten, or both. I think others might be interested. Jack Rabbits used to exist all over Coronado, I know this because there's a story that the reason Orange Avenue doesn't have any Orange trees on it is because the Jack Rabbits dug up the roots. There's still Olives on Olive, and Palms on Palm, but no Oranges on Orange. I've been out on Coronado at night and I haven't even seen a hint of Jack Rabbits. The North Island Jack Rabbits are smaller than the typical California Jack. I've stood next to Jack Rabbits whose ears went above my waist. Whereas the NI Jacks look like little bunnies until you get close enough to see the distiguishing characteristics (long feet, ridiculously large hind legs and long pointed ears.) Once I get a decent camera I'll get some photos.My last camera didn't seem to make my trip to San Diego from the north.

Shreded

Dashing against the cold. The trees fall and the earth rises. rain and fire and hate and passion flow into the lights that bear down on me. Stop these lights I command of my surroundings. These lights bring pain, maybe death. A momentary pleasure, an escape from reality. Though I see them looking at me. And her beauty cuts me, it shreds my fantasy, that I have any control, any passion, any earth beneath me or trees beside me. That the lights wouldn't hurt me, because I'm not worth the thrill.

The driving force

I saw from beyond my nose a World fascinating and wonderful. There was perfection in my action and every moment was an adventure. somewhere I derailed but I have not stopped. No rails! I choose my path. How hard is it for a man that was not raised. My parents never told me who I had to be. They never told me "no" in my course but for when I was at the edge. This is ideal, no. Do not send your child away I say my friends. Do not send them to their end. Do not lie instead of loving each other, and my friends, pain isn't something to be lived with. No I was happier on the streets with my Mom than in a house with people who saw me as a burden. All my life I have been detached. Somewhere in the middle. No teacher ever said, "You're going to kickass, or, "You're going to suck" always both. Silence. That's what I get. Silence. My parents, silence, my teachers, silence, my friends, silence. My brother and sister, O' Lord I cannot give pennance. I sought my own goals. I thought with success, maybe then they'd speak. But no one does. Silence. I say it and I say it. You won't read this, those who are silent. If you did you wouldn't tell me. Sure there are a couple who aren't silent. Why only a couple? What the fuck am I? People talk to dogs, they talk to gods, they talk to themselves, their computers, their hands, their friends, their loves, their hates, their drives, their successes, their failures. Silence.

Damn you for the silence! IF YOU PRICK ME DO I NOT BLEED? Silence.

I wasn't born knowing everything. I have had to claw my way to knowledge, enough to tell me, silence, is not the way of humans. Yet silence deafens me. You won't even understand this if you read it. You won't I promise you that you don't, maybe I'll get a look from you. People look at shit. They don't talk to shit.



I told you what I saw. What I saw on the horizon, in the creeks, in the forrest, my pets, my neighbors, my backyard, myself.



What I see now, is not beyond my nose. Beyond my nose is pain, is violence, silence. I look inwards. My senses are shutting down. They will all go away. You have all gone away, but you know, you were never there. My senses found that out. They knew, when I do not hear, it isn't an inability to hear, it's an inability to be around sound. When I do not see, it isn't an inability to see, it's an inability to allure light. When I do not smell, or taste, it is not an inability to do so, it is an inability to be trusted. When I do not feel, it is not an inability to feel, it is revulsion.

I tell you humans. You still fascinate me. I just fascinate me more. What am I? Silence.

Spirals and the nature of the 3rd dimension (my neurosis)

I was about to declare that spirals don't exist in nature but within seconds I noticed a vine spiraling up a potted tree. Spirals do exist, but in the 3rd dimension. I was thinking of spirals in 2D. We see in 2D, which is annoying to me. None of this was what I was wanting to write originally, but it did help me remember.

I think in spirals, when I come back around I'm a little farther from where I started. Thought threads are fleeting though. I can't even remember what the particular spiral I had in mind was.

So, my current loops of bullshit;

1. I need to care again. (this covers lots of littler issues)

2. My Mother's death (oh my dollars is this a lot of issues)

3. My lack of house and transportation (FTN)

4. My morality (this is just too much)

Where I am: So I decide that once I learned enough about the Vikings, I no longer felt the guilt I've felt for years for not telling my 12th grade British Literature class all I knew about the Vikings when the teacher put me on the spot. It always pissed me off that I didn't talk about their conwquests of America, and Russia, and trade with Constantinople and their written language. Now that I have learned much more, I see that even then I was not too qualified to teach about them at any length. I figured the same logic would help me to regain my control on the General Vallejo situation. That being I have read conflicting sources siting both Vallejo, and John Sutter as having had an army that wore Russian uniforms and took orders in German. It pissed me off that I could know so much, and then be unsure of something so grand. So I thought I'd go to a library. Then I remembered that I wasted years of my youth at libraries instead of socializing. This made me feel guilty for even wanting to read more. So I thought about going to a gun store. Why now? I can't buy one yet, I should take care of important things first. This issue was dropped when the phone book revealed that gun stores aren't open on Sundays. Are Libraries open on Sundays?

I thought about going dowtown to drink and socialize, once again though it's Sunday. I didn't want to go back to the ship. I had nothing else to do, I felt shame for liking to read, so I thought about this spiraling search in my mind for something productive to do on this Sunday. This led me to want to write about spirals. As you may imagine, Fashion Valley Mall is devoid of blank paper. I saw a Hallmark store and checked it out. Cards are almost stationary, but in there I thought about the nature of Hallmark cards. There are in a sense; For those who can't write on their own. Hallmark hates creative people, because creative people don't need Hallmark. They would then logically despise blank paper, for it takes creativity to make that paper valuable.

I then went to Border's Book Store. No paper there. Not a bit. I was mad at this, but had to conclude; For the common man, there is no direct correlation between reading and writing.

Fashion Valley Mall isn't about thought. Fashion is anti-thought, if it's "fashionable" then you didn't choose it, you didn't make it, it isn't creative. I also noticed it's mostly girls there, but they came to shop, or if they came to socialize too, I wouldn't know it, becuase I'm kinda pissed at sex right now. We aren't on speaking terms.

So all I have left to do is go back to the ship. I start walking, cause the trolley was packed, and I didn't want to call a Taxi. Eventually I end up at another Border's I see a beautiful woman in there and as soon as she looks at me, I know we won't be making-up any time soon. I find a book that is all about mid 1800s California with a lot of Vallejo shit in it. I get all excited and buy it. I'm a nerd. Fuck it.

Time

I went ice skating yesterday. I'm still sore and wobbly. I push it to the limit! Though some fucks through my book onto the ground, and the ground was all wet so my Ayn Rand was damaged. I think its awe ing to think about the world the way it really is. That most human minds are kept in bondage. Bondage by all the bullshit philosophies.

You know why Hotmail sucks? Because MSN bought it (this was a while ago), and fucking threw it in their big bag of shit they own. Why do I have to write "@hotmail.com" when I'm already there? Why do I have 120 emails in my inbox, and nothing worth opening? Because fuck Hotmail.

You know why sports suck? Because the players get paid millions to kind of go at each other. The rules just keep getting pussyier and pussyier. You'd think in this supply and demand World I could see a guy get injured for life making $23000 a year.



Out of time

That's why the Navy sucks.

Thanksgiving Post

They wouldn't let me in because I wore Vans! That's all I got. Truthfully though I'm like 15 people. Eminem is the epitome of today's society, but it would take me sooo long to explain why.

So I've spent the last 3 nights sleeping next to a beautiful intelligent relatively successful woman who won't even talk to me. Seriously, I suck. There's nothing more to it. I just put everything into everyone. Her not having any interest in me just tells me I need to fucking stop existing. I don't even know her. It has nothing to do with that. I don't even want to know her. I, Oh fuck this subject.

I'll just say this. I keep hoping that if I die, then maybe someone would read some of my blog posts at my funeral. I'm sure that when I die it will be pathetic and half assed. The tears will be real. They'll take my money and forget me.

I still have nightmares. I've been having nightmares every night for months now. I'm sure it has to do with my dead mother. She's in about a third of them. My dead Grandpa comes along sometimes too. They're always alive in my dreams. It's always a time that never existed. It's like I'm dreaming that they are alive now, and I am not in the Navy. She deserves a dedicated post. I think she was murdered. It's too late to prove it. I haven't told anyone this. But there are very good reasons for me thinking so.

In INDOC they described the side effects of stress. I noticed I have all of them except when there's a choice, like eats too little vs. too much. Most of these started a few months ago. This year has really sucked.

I'm 24. I'm old. Not really, but functionally. I am late.





I am very not normal/ Then people say, there is no normal. Yes there is. I'm not it. You might think you're not normal, but you probably are. Normal is good. Sometimes people are better than normal. That isn't me. I have zero female friends. I mean there's Hailey who bless her heart has never met me, and the YN that's all smiles but has never done anything social with me, but they can't count. I have never had a girlfriend. If you read my posts you might want to know why I would say this. I just mean i have never had a relationsip with a woman (ehem 50% of Earth's population) that wasn't purely sexual or purely hands off for more than say a few hours at a time. How can I have any credibility as a human being with this hanging over my head? That is what I call not normal. I can't even pretend to be human.

I'm jealous of Adrian Monk.



SO What did you want Brian? I'm not Fucking God. This has been the worst time of my life, and I'm still young. Ayn Rand only wrote shit like "We The Living" when she was young, that's the most sad depressing shit ever. A girl who watches everything she held be wrentched from existance, then all the good she created came to nothing, and everything she grew to love was destroyed. She tried to create a better life and ended up dead in a forrest in a pool of her own blood mixed in snow. That's happiness for you Brian. Fucking just do what you can. If life had cheat codes it wouldn't be worth it.

I write one happyish post and just smash it to shit. You like that Michael? You want my reality? I haven't heard anything from Alexandra since I left. She's got my email and a fucking computer right next to her.

Joshua, well I imagine you found this post entertaining. I honestly hope you did.

I'm wearing a designer t-shirt from "Affliction". Why is it that when you think "Designer Clothing" it's all rich and powerful sounding, but the standard precept is that homegrown shit is always the cheaper "old style" of doing things. In the food world the designer equivalent would be a "Mom and Pop" establishment. A place you'd be proud to go on Sunday, and the "non-designer" shit would be McDonalds and Wal-Mart, both of which are chastized for being popular. So its cool to wear the Capitalist pig's clothing, like Levis or Hanes, but not to eat his food like KFC or Waffle House. Designer just means that a real artist, that doesn't suck, made it, versus a coalition or panel of old crotchety fucks and focus groups. Yeah the shirt costs a little more, but the extra dollars are for the personal touch. So go ahead and look down on people who only wear designer clothing, and keep on praising Trader Joe's home town feel you hypocritical fucktards. Not that I only wear designer clothing. I'm a Capitalist for christ's sake. I certainly don't need designer underwear when the ladies never see it.

Leaving Japan

I should follow up the last one since it seems all desperate and gloomy like usual, and something good actually happened. I liked Alexandra, but she always worked and I was in another city. My last night in Japan I got a hotel room in Roppongi. There are very few hotels in Roppongi and people usually book way ahead. I didn't tell her that I got a hotel there just to see her, as opposed to an easier place to sleep like Okachimachi or Shibuya. I may have lied to myself and said I was going to party all night, but those days were done, for now at least. I almost didn't go to see her. It's tough, I don't know how it feels to be wanted by someone that I want, it's usually one way, either I like a woman, or she likes me, or I love a woman, and well. I went to her and we hung out for many hours. We drank the last of their wine that the Argentinian was saving for a special occasion. He said my leaving Japan was a good enough occasion for that.

On her break Alexandra met me at a coffee shop. I tried to explain to her how hard it is for a white guy to walk the streets of Roppongi. Every Nigerian doorman and South East Asian whore wants your money, and they get very personal. I told one Nigerian I had been in Japan 3 years. He replied; "You have been here 3 years, you are just learning to walk and talk. I have been here 13 years, I am already getting laid." Alexandra took me to a photo booth. We took lots of cutesy photos. All the night she kept saying "Don't go!" or "Take me with you." I played with her for saying this since I hadn't so much as kissed her, everytime she said "Don't go." I would ask her why I should stay. She once said; "So you could keep me company." I asked, "So I should stay in Japan, just so I can stand around in your bar and smile at you?" She started mumbling about how much she has to work and I heard her swear for the first time, it was really cute. The next day, my absolute last day in Japan I met her on a corner and we went and had brunch at T.G.I. Friday's. Two hours passed like nothing and I had to get to my plane. I invited her to come to the train station with me. We took a taxi to Tokyo eki. She held my hand the whole way. Alexandra had to get to Akihabara by 1:00 p.m. I was in line to by a ticket to Narita, she had to leave, but she didn't want to. She started hugging then kissing, then hugging, then kissing me. She sounded very sad when we parted. She texted me while I was on the train, and I talked to her when I got to the airport. She kept saying "Don't forget me." Alexandra, how could I forget you? Why did you wait so long to take me up on anything? I asked Alexandra to go places with me in the past but always she had work. Not really apropriate to kiss a bartender in the bar.

What the hell? I don't know. I suppose that was probably the most awesome way to leave a country. If I had done much more with her besides hugging and kissing I probably would be kicking myself right now. Just. Just. Well you know. You all fuck like rabbits. I savor my women. Alexandra, you were the finest. I want to drink from you again.

Instant Late Night Poem

I will make a poem right now;

Alexandra,

te quiero. Pero sera una dia en la futura.
Porque voy ahorra, y dices que quieri decir.
Nande? Ima? porque no en Augusto o Septiembre?
Anata ga hoshi desu. Solamente quiero una dia completa.
You give me your picture and say I should never forget you.
You say you want my picture and you will never forget me.
Demo, estuve tu' quieri, no una pictura.
We speak in 3 languages. When we drink we say; "Salud, Kampai, Cheers!" But I only got to say "hello."
Always and never this is my life. I see the extremes and you are there. I needed to realize it is now and not never. That there is no whole. That what is, is all.
I think I will see you in 3 hours. I think I will see you forever. My Colombian woman. Watashi no Colombiajin Onnanahito, mi colombiana.

Not Much

So I was trying to get money out of the ATM but it rejected me. Thats happened before and its usually the ATMs fault. I switch the majority of my dollars to Yen instead and I go to Yokohama with Tony. We eat at a nice Italian restaurant. When I go to pay I try to use my card but its rejected. I had to use nearly all my money to pay the bill. So Now I got just enough for a train ride back to Yokosuka and probably enough to cover the internet cafe Im using right now. The thing is, Washington Mutual has fucked me before, in fact, so well did they fuck me that I keep my account number with me at all times. I call them and they say they had switched to Master Card so my Visa check card has been cancelled. I told the lady that I was in Japan, that I had no money, and the damn Master Card is going to arrive at my Dads house in California. She puts me on hold, I knew going in I only had about 400 Yen on my phone, while on hold my phone says, "1 minute left" Then she comes back on, "Mr. Wise, thank you for waiting" I say "ok" and then she says "Heres what I can do BOOP BOOP BOOP (Thats the sound of the end of my prepayed call)" Im sure that she thinks I hung up on her. That would be terribly douchey of me, thatd be retarded anyway considering she was about to hook me up somehow. Anyway I cant call her back, I have no money for another pre-payed card. BUUUTT Heres where I come in and save my own ass from all this bullshit. You see, like I said, I have been fucked before, so the last time this happened, I made sure that I wouldnt completely rely on one card to access that account. Waiting for me at my house in Yoko is a new and never used ATM card thats been sitting in my room for months waiting for this day. Still theyre bitches. Just cause Im not completely fucked still doesnt change that. Cancel my fucking card cause they like Master Card, you know what I like Bank of America. Fuck you Washington Mutual!

7 Minutes

I will stop at 1035.

I am now resurfacing oh I wish. As the time counts down and the problems remain the tension builds. I am not quite feeling it intensely enough, I only think about it almost all day. There is too much. In this week I will have received a medal higher than any medal I've ever received and I'll probably get the Warfare qualification they've been torturing me to get. None of it makes me happy. I'm numb to any kind of positive aspects. I'm completely on the defensive now. Now is the time. I hold my shield close and I run in swinging. Those strong enough to not get cut down by me will stay close. Those I fell will never know. I will die, or my enemies will. I am an extremeist I know.

waiting waiting acting failing. Only NOW? I get close now? No. This is bullshit. Where am I going? She haunts me. It's like she knows and is hovering like a vulture. Waiting for me to pass. FUCK YOU MEGAN. YOU HAVE ALREADY FORGOTTEN ME. YOU WILL NEVER REMEMBER WHAT I MEANT TO YOU. WHAT YOU FELT. I have to. It's all I have. You can block it out. Your life is easy like that. You so happily kill everything that was good. Fuck my time's up/

My Mother's Funeral

I cried uncontrollably for about 20 or thirty minutes after reading a message from my sister that my Mother had died. The people on the ship were great about getting me on emergency leave. I flew into Oakland, got picked up by my Father and had him take me to my sister in South San Francisco. I went into the living room of a house I used to live in and hugged her awake. I then had her ride with me. We ate lunch at Bay Pastry, a Dim Sum restaurant in San Francisco we'd always go to after school, then went back to Stockton.

I rented a car that day with my Grandma, I don't really need her anymore to get the car, but she's always gone with me to get one.

I wore my uniform to my Mother's funeral. It was in the Castro district of San Francisco. That's the gay center of San Francisco if you didn't know. I only got one "Hey Sailor" which was enough. At her funeral I got trapped looking at her. I hadn't seen her in so long, and in the days prior I had avoided thinking about it. Looking at my dead Mom I couldn't hold myself together. My sister came up and hugged me and I talked to her up there for about ten minutes. I met a lot of people I didn't know, and some I hadn't seen in a long time. There I met a very aware and interesting little girl, my youngest cousin, Tara Dillon. I so wanted to spend more time with them all. I am very glad that I am going back in October.

When I was at my Uncle's I got to ride his $5000 road bike. I took a path along the American River all the way up to Folsom Prison. On the way I passed up some old guy, he managed to catch up with me later. Rather than face humiliation I turned off onto a foot bridge that leads into Folsom City. He followed me, but I had stopped on the bridge. He stopped too. I noticed some really cool rocks in the river, so I went down to see them. My Uncle John had told me to keep the bike close to me no matter what, so I carried it on my back down the rocky bank. It was about 20 feet down. I was wearing those bicycle shoes that lock into the pedals and they have no tread. I made it to the bottom and walked out onto the rocks. They were boulder sized and flowed into the river. I was able to stand on one that was surrounded by water that was at least ten feet deep. They were very slippery from the algae. The water was freezing my barefeet. I only had to take two steps to get back to the bank and I managed to slip on the second one. I didn't get too wet, or ruin my 4th iPod. Then I went back in the other direction so that old bastard wasn't on my trail. There were nothing but old people out biking then, my Unlce pointed out that its probably because the time of day I was out there most people have jobs.

Michael and his wife: I left Carmichael, slept at my Dad's house, then went to see Michael when I woke up. I was kinda late in leaving so I was going a good 90 MPH when I got pulled over. Somewhere halfway down the San Joaquin Valley I got a ticket, my first ever! Michael and his wife, mmmhmm, ok I think its cute that they are physically incapable of not making out every 3 to 5 minutes. BUUUUT I don't need to be there. Michael and I went to the Charger's Stadium where they were setting up for the Street Scene concert. we walked right in, me in my fine atire, to look for three people spending time in a porta-potty trying to get tickets to the concert. I couldn't even remember what radio station was doing it, and there were way too many porta-pottys. So days earlier I had only one shirt, a shirt I got in Guam. I bought another at Ross in Stockton. It was a little too small for me, but it was cool, a ratty old brown "Red Stripe" beer shirt that read "Stubby and proud of it" I wore that for about 5 days striaght, including while at my Unlce's so I took advantage of Mission Valley shopping and went to all the malls I went to back in '04 during the brief period I was stationed there. I bought some really fine clothing. I was a total pimp with a bad ass hat. I tried to tell them. We went to dinner and the "seating" girl said she really liked my hat. Michael's wife Allison said she was just being nice, and that my response to the girl, "Hell yeah!", was inapropriate. I told her she was wrong. That she can get as preachy as she wants but I wasn't the one getting all drunk and high when I was 15. That's cause I am a fucking douche, and I say those things to my best friend's wifes. Perhaps I didn't say it so harshly but when we were leaving and the "seating" girl once again said how awesome my hat was, I rubbed in Allison's face for a good twenty minutes. She's a great person by the way. If anything goes wrong with their relationship, I'm going to blame Michael. I think about how cool Allison is, and I pretty much lose all hope of ever having a good relationship. I certainly don't deserve a woman like that.

Winding down. There is so much unresolved. My Mother's boyfriend is all fucked up. My sister is all fucked up on her own. We have to deal with a house, some insurance, and a business. I left all that. I came back to Japan. Now I have unresolved issues in two countries.

I don't know what the hell is going on right now. I am seriously engulfed in something. Hearing Caitlin say "Columbian Woman", watching Michael and his life. Seeing my sister fighting, clinging to what isn't. My life. Jesus. What have I done?

Josho

I told my little cousin my name was Josho, and it is so cute hearing her say it. She made me a trophy for beating her in a paper airplane contest. She took lots of photos with my phone. I fell in love with her instantly. My Aunt and Uncle better watch out I might steal her. Tara's only 7 but she's got a fire inside. My other cousins were really cool too. Caitlin is 17 now, she and Maicy (16) are both all gothy Ashley Simpsony. I completely missed the last 7 years of their lives. They were both fun to hang out with for a couple days. I made salsa, they all loved it. My Aunt Jodie made me a nice lunch of Salmon Salad with olive oil lime juice and almond shavings. Then she told me to start feeding myself, that's when I knew I had reached freeloader status, and I left that night. Tara almost cried so I told her I would try to come back. They all wanted me to stay, I really wanted to stay. I, well. One step at a time.