I am now unemployed. I am running out of money fast. I am now like a normal person I suppose. I have unpaid tickets, I'm just going to assume there are warrants out on me. I'm still very much living in an apartment I've already paid to leave. In fact I paid more money to buy out my lease than I even have left. There's this one me that knows all this, and he doesn't care. There's the other side of me who is playing video games all day and is thinking about 3 things showers, food, and sleep. I've almost beat Suikoden 4. I've had the game for about 4 years and I've finally gotten around to playing it. I used a walkthrough so I could get all 108 stars of destiny.
This last year was the easiest of my career. But maybe only because I remained aloof. When I left Japan, I left a place that was painful and challenging for me, but it was real, it was life, and it wasn't all bad, I had people well, if you've read my blogs from back then. Anyway.
This is what I strived for, and this is what I got. Mediocrity.
I'm thinking about this life I'm tailoring for myself. I'll take full time classes at Delta College, I might be on unemployment, or some part time job. I'll be staying in my father's house. In a room previously occupied by my brother, until he was kicked out. I shouldn't be there for too long, convenience will fall to sanity. My relationship with my father is much better when we are not actually within shouting distance.
I will take classes, I will work, and I will watch tv. That's it. My understanding of the world, my ability to reason and develop and problem solve, my experience, I will abandon this. I can't imagine ever telling anyone that I ever served except on a resume. I can't imagine ever admitting to people that I've left Stockton. I'll just say I had this or that job. Hell I could just say I apprenticed as an electrician, didn't like it, and leave it at that.
I can never be accepted by Americans. I will always be repulsive, and a freak. I can at least pretend to be normal again. No more globe bouncing, late nights in long seas leaning against various war machines speaking casually about every little detail of every aspect of life. Now is the time for discretion. Time to casually stand by and watch all the beautiful people steal everything from me and keep me in their pen with promise of a gift. The gift of being a stone in a pyramid. I can rest now. Rest in my mind and complain about this or that while everything every decent man has ever worked for is used to further destroy everything every decent man ever valued. Come along mediocrity. Sell me out.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
It Isn't Ironic!
I am tired of all these fucking 20 something dipshits whose only method of evaluating or describing works is "ironic". People wearing stupid shirts isn't ironic. Shitty presentations of malformed conceptual deveolopments aren't ironic. You're shitty humor isn't ironic. You suck, and that isn't irony either.
You know what's ironic? The Brady Bunch Movie. The entire movie is devoted to making fun of the 70s TV iconic family, set in the back drop of the 90s. The irony comes into play only when one understands that the humor derived from the family is in their absurd attitudes, clothing, and their aparent oblivious nature. In this, the presentation makes such an effort to portray how different and "modern" the 90s are, that in only a few years time the 90s characters appear ridiculous and outdated. The 90s clothing is as unacceptable as the 70s perhaps even more so. The attitudes of the "modern" characters seem childish and narrowminded whereas the family seems completely rational, a good example would be the neighbors willingness to sell-out their lives for a little money, and the high school students who don't seem to appear to possess any means of civility or happiness. The Brady family on the other hand are goal oriented and all possess analytical skills that allow them to attain their goals even if they have been "dropped in" to the 90s.
Although a movie has yet to be made to portray the 21st Century as it is, I would venture the highlight of our social structure at this point is a successful individualistic style of living. in these 00s we have more than one can imagine, our wealth is unprecedented nor is our jaded nature. With the internet firmly planted, we have children who have grown up with the world in their hands and know nothing less. Not that people seem to be any more intelligent, we just found a way to max out our own potential. In a life of unlimited resources, the parent/child relationship changes to be much less instructive, and much more guiding. A parent would now not be preoccupied with fact giving, rather helping develop a child's moral and rational abilities. Even school's fact based methods are becoming obsolete, and can focus more on teaching a student how to learn, and how to apply knowledge. In this I believe the internet has literally lifted the minds of all those who can access it, it has made it possible for humans to reach higher states of knowledge and development much faster or at all if never before.
I have just found out about a new feature on Google Map, "Street View" where you can take a 3D trip down a street and look around. You can even zoom in and read signs, or look at people and things like that. They've only uploaded portions of less than 30 cities so far, but it shows great potential. San Diego is one of them, and my street is one of them, you can move the screen to right outside my apartment. Though when the Photos were taken I hadn't moved in yet. I was able to get an idea of the date when I passed the Spreckles theatre on Broadway, its next show listed was March 15, 2007. Interestingly enough if you look at the front end of the show boards you can see that Arcade Fire will play on April 26, which was the day I got the apartment, and only 6 days after returning from a 4 month underway. I was at the Arcade Fire performance only because I luckily walked by and noticed a few hours before the show. Imagine one day having a live Street View. You could virtually travel downtown and see what's going on. See if there's a good party or a protest. The kind of things you'd either have to see for yourself, or hear about it later, the kind of fun you can't schedule. That's the irony of the old, narrowmindedness mocked by narrowmindedness. In the broad vision of life, we act to live, not to please, we live to please, not to act.
You know what's ironic? The Brady Bunch Movie. The entire movie is devoted to making fun of the 70s TV iconic family, set in the back drop of the 90s. The irony comes into play only when one understands that the humor derived from the family is in their absurd attitudes, clothing, and their aparent oblivious nature. In this, the presentation makes such an effort to portray how different and "modern" the 90s are, that in only a few years time the 90s characters appear ridiculous and outdated. The 90s clothing is as unacceptable as the 70s perhaps even more so. The attitudes of the "modern" characters seem childish and narrowminded whereas the family seems completely rational, a good example would be the neighbors willingness to sell-out their lives for a little money, and the high school students who don't seem to appear to possess any means of civility or happiness. The Brady family on the other hand are goal oriented and all possess analytical skills that allow them to attain their goals even if they have been "dropped in" to the 90s.
Although a movie has yet to be made to portray the 21st Century as it is, I would venture the highlight of our social structure at this point is a successful individualistic style of living. in these 00s we have more than one can imagine, our wealth is unprecedented nor is our jaded nature. With the internet firmly planted, we have children who have grown up with the world in their hands and know nothing less. Not that people seem to be any more intelligent, we just found a way to max out our own potential. In a life of unlimited resources, the parent/child relationship changes to be much less instructive, and much more guiding. A parent would now not be preoccupied with fact giving, rather helping develop a child's moral and rational abilities. Even school's fact based methods are becoming obsolete, and can focus more on teaching a student how to learn, and how to apply knowledge. In this I believe the internet has literally lifted the minds of all those who can access it, it has made it possible for humans to reach higher states of knowledge and development much faster or at all if never before.
I have just found out about a new feature on Google Map, "Street View" where you can take a 3D trip down a street and look around. You can even zoom in and read signs, or look at people and things like that. They've only uploaded portions of less than 30 cities so far, but it shows great potential. San Diego is one of them, and my street is one of them, you can move the screen to right outside my apartment. Though when the Photos were taken I hadn't moved in yet. I was able to get an idea of the date when I passed the Spreckles theatre on Broadway, its next show listed was March 15, 2007. Interestingly enough if you look at the front end of the show boards you can see that Arcade Fire will play on April 26, which was the day I got the apartment, and only 6 days after returning from a 4 month underway. I was at the Arcade Fire performance only because I luckily walked by and noticed a few hours before the show. Imagine one day having a live Street View. You could virtually travel downtown and see what's going on. See if there's a good party or a protest. The kind of things you'd either have to see for yourself, or hear about it later, the kind of fun you can't schedule. That's the irony of the old, narrowmindedness mocked by narrowmindedness. In the broad vision of life, we act to live, not to please, we live to please, not to act.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Bush
On the eve of my departure to the harsh wastelands of Northern Illinois as my father drove me to my fated life, we listened to Mr. Bush give his first State of the Union speech, it was full of promise about how we will get the terrorists in Afghanistan and begin our War on Terror. I was fresh and young, I still had college thoughts in me, bike rides, swimming, great shape, great friends. I was motivated and ready to help fight for America.
6 years later, tonight, on the eve of my departure from the Navy, Mr. Bush once again speaks of Afghan Terrorists and more. It has become much worse. I am leaving the Navy a failure. Unable to stop terrorists. My greatest triumphs slammed in my face by my superiors as my greatest defeats. I have been shamed, humiliated, and left broken and alone. These 6 years have taken nearly everything from me. I could not listen to tonight's speech, because I am so disgusted by this government. I had lost all faith in it, save this trumpeting of my dead soul in the form of Ron Paul, but this too seems fleeting and expensive.
I won't go home tomorrow. I will simply try to get some rest. I've been sick for days, and I haven't slept right in weeks. I haven't felt alive in years.
6 years later, tonight, on the eve of my departure from the Navy, Mr. Bush once again speaks of Afghan Terrorists and more. It has become much worse. I am leaving the Navy a failure. Unable to stop terrorists. My greatest triumphs slammed in my face by my superiors as my greatest defeats. I have been shamed, humiliated, and left broken and alone. These 6 years have taken nearly everything from me. I could not listen to tonight's speech, because I am so disgusted by this government. I had lost all faith in it, save this trumpeting of my dead soul in the form of Ron Paul, but this too seems fleeting and expensive.
I won't go home tomorrow. I will simply try to get some rest. I've been sick for days, and I haven't slept right in weeks. I haven't felt alive in years.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Fotos de Mujeres?
I just made a mixed drink with 12 different liquors. whooo. It has the look of light Kahlua, but its flavor, oh my god, a Jager syrup, a vodka burn, a whiskey tang, oh my god. I took a photo of myself. I want to try to pull a "Noah".
1. Jager 2. SoCo 3. Bailey's 4. Cpt. Morgan's Passion Fruit Rum 5. Grey Goose Vodka 6. Frost Vodka 7. That other rum I'm too drunk to remember, you know, the classic stuff. 8. Amaretto di Amor? 9. Kahlua 10. Jameson Irish Whiskey 11. Chivas Regal Scotch 12. 1800 Tequila
I am watching this move in French right now, I'm sure you knew fiance' was french, but did you know it means "engaged" in French? That is, it isn't a noun it is an adjective(right?)? It isn't a person it is a situation, so the word might be French, but our definition doesn't fit, so it isn't really French. At least, not unless they use the word for everything.
p.s. the title stems from my love of porn. It knows no language barrier.
1. Jager 2. SoCo 3. Bailey's 4. Cpt. Morgan's Passion Fruit Rum 5. Grey Goose Vodka 6. Frost Vodka 7. That other rum I'm too drunk to remember, you know, the classic stuff. 8. Amaretto di Amor? 9. Kahlua 10. Jameson Irish Whiskey 11. Chivas Regal Scotch 12. 1800 Tequila
I am watching this move in French right now, I'm sure you knew fiance' was french, but did you know it means "engaged" in French? That is, it isn't a noun it is an adjective(right?)? It isn't a person it is a situation, so the word might be French, but our definition doesn't fit, so it isn't really French. At least, not unless they use the word for everything.
p.s. the title stems from my love of porn. It knows no language barrier.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Thrown out of a Punk Show
I didn't really get kicked out. Michael did. Michael that crazy rebel who after buying a house in Aurora Colorado with his wife and baby, took a full schedule of college classes without hindering his full time desk job for the Navy. This wild man got me to come along with him to a music show downtown (after special permission from his wife) while there he drank a whole glass of beer and then in the throes of the mosh pit he lost his wrist band. The wrist band was critical in showing that he was in fact over 21, so he'd be allowed by the stage. Now the House of Blues did issue a ticket that also says he's over 21, and a receipt for the ticket, and a stamp on his right hand that verifies this as well, along with his driver's license, his military ID, and my affirmation, but the rebel Michael recklessly lost the paper wrist band in his irresponsible decision to be in a mosh pit that he wasn't allowed in without his paper wrist band that so innocently was weakened by an unexplained presence of sweat. So once security got wind of his wristbandlessness in the pit when the Circle Jerks were on their very last song, security very kindly asked Michael to leave, and even escorted him, like the gentlemen they are.
Meanwhile I was very cordially trying not to embarass these two nice ladies with my flatering glances. As I would tell Michael the full "8" on the 10 scale was dressed in fine evening attire, that complemented the high class crowd. Seeing my best friend being escorted to the exit, I assumed Michael was simply ready to leave, since the show was essentially over so I began to follow, only briefly in repose at the loss of the opportunity to further enjoy the ambiance.
Upon leaving the House of Blues my good friend asked the fine gentleman if his ticket would suffice. That is when I realized Michael had commited a faux pas and hadn't left of his own accord. At this I was momentarily overcome with emotion and I did try with my strongest voice to defend my friend's honor. If I hadn't lost my voice in the pit, I dare say I might have myself been called upon by security, for at the top of my lungs, albeit not very loud at all, I told the gentlemen that my friend was a 24 year old war vet! The gentlemen, with their distinguished careers in music crowd control, seemed not so impressed and went about their noble duty of sweeping up trash.
My good friend Michael was a bit perturbed by all of this (perhaps his heavy drinking was to blame) but I walked with him on a peripatetic and we did discuss the issue quite suffiently. In fact, I suppose the only reason that I wrote this was because I'm getting bored and nervous and this clock bullshit is really wearing me down.
Meanwhile I was very cordially trying not to embarass these two nice ladies with my flatering glances. As I would tell Michael the full "8" on the 10 scale was dressed in fine evening attire, that complemented the high class crowd. Seeing my best friend being escorted to the exit, I assumed Michael was simply ready to leave, since the show was essentially over so I began to follow, only briefly in repose at the loss of the opportunity to further enjoy the ambiance.
Upon leaving the House of Blues my good friend asked the fine gentleman if his ticket would suffice. That is when I realized Michael had commited a faux pas and hadn't left of his own accord. At this I was momentarily overcome with emotion and I did try with my strongest voice to defend my friend's honor. If I hadn't lost my voice in the pit, I dare say I might have myself been called upon by security, for at the top of my lungs, albeit not very loud at all, I told the gentlemen that my friend was a 24 year old war vet! The gentlemen, with their distinguished careers in music crowd control, seemed not so impressed and went about their noble duty of sweeping up trash.
My good friend Michael was a bit perturbed by all of this (perhaps his heavy drinking was to blame) but I walked with him on a peripatetic and we did discuss the issue quite suffiently. In fact, I suppose the only reason that I wrote this was because I'm getting bored and nervous and this clock bullshit is really wearing me down.
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
The New Year
I went to an Objectivist chat room. Talked for hours with a 25 year old man in New Zealand about getting him laid. Then a Russian in west Siberia joined in. I told him I couldn't believe a Siberian was allowed on the internet, least-ways in Ayn's territory talking shit about Putin.
The important thing was that I was at home. Sitting on my couch, drinking Chapagne out of the bottle alone. Since it took me two hours to get back to this blog I'll make a list of New Year's Eves I remember.
2008 - Last night. Got slightly drunk long before 12, went to bed completely sober about 12:30. Feeling sorry for myself.
2007 - Watched people who love each other count down the new year in a bar at the Hotel Del Coronado. I was not really welcome there, but nobody stopped me. After that I wandered the beach until I laid down on one of the dunes, and there came up with the idea of killing myself on that beach, which is a resolution I have yet to fulfill.
2006 - The day I tried desperately to get my only love to celebrate with me. She had other plans. My friend Tony, who was on vacation at my house suggested I go with him to Tokyo, but instead I stayed home, played video games, watched TV and probably cried. I didn't even stay up till 12.
2005 - I don't remember. I was in Japan I guess, I was probably at the Navy's "Single Sailor Center" which is like a boys and girls club for loser sailors. I honestly don't remember much of those days. They really sucked.
2004 - I was in Stockton, I drank a glass of Champagne with my father and brother and sister. It was my first time on vacation since leaving America, four months earlier.
2003 - I was in Pensacola Florida. I didn't do shit.
2002 - Honestly I don't remember. I lived with my Dad and bro and sis in Stockton. I probably didn't do anything.
2001 - Don't remember doing anything at all. I lived in S.F. with my Mom, bro, and sis.
2000- I was alone in an empty room in a house In South San Francisco. We had just moved in. Before that we were homeless. I remember being very happy to have a shelter from the rain, and I was writing a detective story that essentially captured my experiences and emotions. Lots of killing involved.
1999-1982- uh, it gets pretty fuzzy from here. Asides, I was a youngn'. Well technically 16 isn't that young, but you know, I suck.
The important thing was that I was at home. Sitting on my couch, drinking Chapagne out of the bottle alone. Since it took me two hours to get back to this blog I'll make a list of New Year's Eves I remember.
2008 - Last night. Got slightly drunk long before 12, went to bed completely sober about 12:30. Feeling sorry for myself.
2007 - Watched people who love each other count down the new year in a bar at the Hotel Del Coronado. I was not really welcome there, but nobody stopped me. After that I wandered the beach until I laid down on one of the dunes, and there came up with the idea of killing myself on that beach, which is a resolution I have yet to fulfill.
2006 - The day I tried desperately to get my only love to celebrate with me. She had other plans. My friend Tony, who was on vacation at my house suggested I go with him to Tokyo, but instead I stayed home, played video games, watched TV and probably cried. I didn't even stay up till 12.
2005 - I don't remember. I was in Japan I guess, I was probably at the Navy's "Single Sailor Center" which is like a boys and girls club for loser sailors. I honestly don't remember much of those days. They really sucked.
2004 - I was in Stockton, I drank a glass of Champagne with my father and brother and sister. It was my first time on vacation since leaving America, four months earlier.
2003 - I was in Pensacola Florida. I didn't do shit.
2002 - Honestly I don't remember. I lived with my Dad and bro and sis in Stockton. I probably didn't do anything.
2001 - Don't remember doing anything at all. I lived in S.F. with my Mom, bro, and sis.
2000- I was alone in an empty room in a house In South San Francisco. We had just moved in. Before that we were homeless. I remember being very happy to have a shelter from the rain, and I was writing a detective story that essentially captured my experiences and emotions. Lots of killing involved.
1999-1982- uh, it gets pretty fuzzy from here. Asides, I was a youngn'. Well technically 16 isn't that young, but you know, I suck.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Burger King Onion Rings used to be made with onions
I decided to go to the movies today. I saw I am Legend and National Treasure: Book Of Secrets. I was planning on seeing The Golden Compass, I even bought a ticket, but I was tired. I bought 24 season 6. And I headed home.
On the way I detoured to Burger King to get dinner. I didn't lock up my bike so I spent the whole time in the restaurant looking out. There was this bum standing by my bike the whole time. I had blown him off when I walked in. A car with a big open bed stopped by my bike, and I imagined what I'd have to do if they tossed my bike in their bed. That's how I lost bike number 3. Being on bike number 11 or 12 now I know how to not get it stolen. If they did toss it in the bed, I imagined droping my stuff hopping the railing, knocking a guy over, breaking the glass door on my way out, jumping into the bed of the truck and calling the police while in the truck. I even thought about how I would speak, how I would navigate the cops, and pondered if I would have to fight them or if they would take me someplace where they had backup. In all this bike worry I ordered my meal. I didn't want the soda, but I started imagining that I could find a way to bring it home with me, I certainly didn't want to spend another minute there. I got my food, went out to my bike and dumped months old gatorade out of my water bottle. I tried to put the cup of soda in the water bottle holder, but the top popped instantly and I knew it was hopeless. This whole time this goddamn bum has been watching me, nobody watches me for minutes on end, especially not entire visits, so thoughts of having to beat him to shit, and what I'd do if he had a knife crossed my mind. I imagined kicking him in the throat rather than trying to kick his knife away, in this scenario he's already on the ground (that's why he'd pull the knife of course). I decided to walk my bike for a while instead.
By the time I crossed the street I imagined throwing my soda into the parking lot or against a building, but I don't litter, I don't make messes, and I knew that God damned bum was still watching. I crossed the street again, about 3 or 4 steps into the street one of the straps to the bag holding all my food and DVDs breaks. I know that soon the second one will go, but I'm juggling a bag, a cup of soda, and a bike. At the exact middle of the street the second strap breaks all my shit hits the ground and spills out. My can of "Duff" energy drink I had purchased as a collector item is fucked up and my food is in the street. I bend over but I still have to hold my bike and the cup of soda in my hand. I start stuffing everything into the bag and I see the street light turn green on me. I move faster pick all my shit up, except for one casualty, a package of zesty onion ring sauce. I move over to the side of the road and toss the fucking cup of soda into the trash. All the while I imagine that God fucking damn bum is watching. I hop on my bike. I glide downhill. Down down. I imagine that the flood of criminals and bums I am passing can't hear me while I am traveling in stealth mode. I get down by the trolley tracks and I illegaly cross them on a red. As soon as I am on the other side I see a cop car parked so I make a right turn onto the sidewalk. I pass by a couple men who had just been talking to a bum. "Merry Christmas" they say to the bum and he walks over to one of the street saplings. He grabs a bag of something out of the tree and walked away. I am amazed by this. I just illegally crossed a street, and then these guys just did a drug deal, and this cop car doesn't move. I keep rolling down down hill. Bums and crazys and criminals. Anyway. That was my day. I know I changed tenses half way through, but my left hand is numb, I need to take a shit, I'm tired, and my food's gotten cold again while writing this.
On the way I detoured to Burger King to get dinner. I didn't lock up my bike so I spent the whole time in the restaurant looking out. There was this bum standing by my bike the whole time. I had blown him off when I walked in. A car with a big open bed stopped by my bike, and I imagined what I'd have to do if they tossed my bike in their bed. That's how I lost bike number 3. Being on bike number 11 or 12 now I know how to not get it stolen. If they did toss it in the bed, I imagined droping my stuff hopping the railing, knocking a guy over, breaking the glass door on my way out, jumping into the bed of the truck and calling the police while in the truck. I even thought about how I would speak, how I would navigate the cops, and pondered if I would have to fight them or if they would take me someplace where they had backup. In all this bike worry I ordered my meal. I didn't want the soda, but I started imagining that I could find a way to bring it home with me, I certainly didn't want to spend another minute there. I got my food, went out to my bike and dumped months old gatorade out of my water bottle. I tried to put the cup of soda in the water bottle holder, but the top popped instantly and I knew it was hopeless. This whole time this goddamn bum has been watching me, nobody watches me for minutes on end, especially not entire visits, so thoughts of having to beat him to shit, and what I'd do if he had a knife crossed my mind. I imagined kicking him in the throat rather than trying to kick his knife away, in this scenario he's already on the ground (that's why he'd pull the knife of course). I decided to walk my bike for a while instead.
By the time I crossed the street I imagined throwing my soda into the parking lot or against a building, but I don't litter, I don't make messes, and I knew that God damned bum was still watching. I crossed the street again, about 3 or 4 steps into the street one of the straps to the bag holding all my food and DVDs breaks. I know that soon the second one will go, but I'm juggling a bag, a cup of soda, and a bike. At the exact middle of the street the second strap breaks all my shit hits the ground and spills out. My can of "Duff" energy drink I had purchased as a collector item is fucked up and my food is in the street. I bend over but I still have to hold my bike and the cup of soda in my hand. I start stuffing everything into the bag and I see the street light turn green on me. I move faster pick all my shit up, except for one casualty, a package of zesty onion ring sauce. I move over to the side of the road and toss the fucking cup of soda into the trash. All the while I imagine that God fucking damn bum is watching. I hop on my bike. I glide downhill. Down down. I imagine that the flood of criminals and bums I am passing can't hear me while I am traveling in stealth mode. I get down by the trolley tracks and I illegaly cross them on a red. As soon as I am on the other side I see a cop car parked so I make a right turn onto the sidewalk. I pass by a couple men who had just been talking to a bum. "Merry Christmas" they say to the bum and he walks over to one of the street saplings. He grabs a bag of something out of the tree and walked away. I am amazed by this. I just illegally crossed a street, and then these guys just did a drug deal, and this cop car doesn't move. I keep rolling down down hill. Bums and crazys and criminals. Anyway. That was my day. I know I changed tenses half way through, but my left hand is numb, I need to take a shit, I'm tired, and my food's gotten cold again while writing this.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Why Superman is a Hero
Why are dreams stuck in with "Supernatural". Dreams are completely fucking natural. Though, seeing as how nobody reads my blogs, and nobody I know writes blogs frequently besides me, I guess it doesn't really matter. On Myspace, the most popular blogs are ALL hot girls writing dumb dumb RETARDEDLY dumb shit, and band/celebrity blogs that aren't even written by the people the blogs are titled for. So blogs on myspace are essentially tits and celebrities. Yay. I lose. So on to my actual blog, which would by itself be beautiful and inspiring, but considering no one will read it. It means absolutely nothing. Just like me.
There was this movie called "Angus". Maybe you've seen it. One scene stuck with me ever since I first saw it. It was the words of Angus' Grandfather, played by the late great George C. Scott. I paraphrase "Superman wasn't a hero because he was invincible. He had nothing to fear when he went out into the world and saved all those people..."
I now realize this isn't true. Because Superman is still a man. He may be invincible, but only physically. He (as portrayed) possesses all the range of human emotions and desires. Certainly he is at least a good man to not turn his powers to hurt others, but then that doesn't exactly make him a hero. What makes him a hero is time. Superman gives his time. Looking at it from a purely selfish, individualist perspective this is indeed a great gift. Just because he can't be hurt and he can save others doesn't obligate him. He could simply live his life and only act when he needs to. Instead this character devotes his entire existance to saving people. He has no life. He has no friends. He doesn't go to parties. He only has one love, and he hardly has that. He trades his very soul to help people, putting himself out there to be judged. Not exactly Ayn Randian. Still hero enough. I get the feeling I've written an allusion here. I assure you I have not. Only a comparison. For I devote little time to helping others. It's hard to. I try sometimes. Sometimes I succeed. But I am a grotesque monster, and the screams of terror wear me down. I can't put myself out there anymore. I am always judged guilty. Even writing this, if you read it, you judge me guilty for not being stronger. For feeling sorry for myself. Well I am not. I am not sorry. Fuck you and I will not change to meet their standards. Still it hurts. But heroes can't cry. So I walk away. Let the beautiful men do all the saving. They'll get the credit either way.
There was this movie called "Angus". Maybe you've seen it. One scene stuck with me ever since I first saw it. It was the words of Angus' Grandfather, played by the late great George C. Scott. I paraphrase "Superman wasn't a hero because he was invincible. He had nothing to fear when he went out into the world and saved all those people..."
I now realize this isn't true. Because Superman is still a man. He may be invincible, but only physically. He (as portrayed) possesses all the range of human emotions and desires. Certainly he is at least a good man to not turn his powers to hurt others, but then that doesn't exactly make him a hero. What makes him a hero is time. Superman gives his time. Looking at it from a purely selfish, individualist perspective this is indeed a great gift. Just because he can't be hurt and he can save others doesn't obligate him. He could simply live his life and only act when he needs to. Instead this character devotes his entire existance to saving people. He has no life. He has no friends. He doesn't go to parties. He only has one love, and he hardly has that. He trades his very soul to help people, putting himself out there to be judged. Not exactly Ayn Randian. Still hero enough. I get the feeling I've written an allusion here. I assure you I have not. Only a comparison. For I devote little time to helping others. It's hard to. I try sometimes. Sometimes I succeed. But I am a grotesque monster, and the screams of terror wear me down. I can't put myself out there anymore. I am always judged guilty. Even writing this, if you read it, you judge me guilty for not being stronger. For feeling sorry for myself. Well I am not. I am not sorry. Fuck you and I will not change to meet their standards. Still it hurts. But heroes can't cry. So I walk away. Let the beautiful men do all the saving. They'll get the credit either way.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
San Diego Apocalypse
There was light this morning, beyond the dark wall looming on the buildings so far removed from the earth. The sun came high but shone not through, but around. The clouds of smoke turned black to blot the light that threatened the fire's glory. Blood red light poured over the wall, ending darknesses celebratory hold. Though the ashen rain reminded us all that the wall was moving, and it was destroying everything it touched.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Guns and guns and guns and bullets
I shot the M240G a few days ago at Camp Pendleton. It's a belt fed machine gun. I was really almost excited to do it. Not many people in America are even legally able to have that experience. I yelled out "Get some!" as I poured the bullets into an old car about 500 yards away. I'm going to shoot the M9 pistol tomorrow. I've already qualified "Expert" on it twice. You can't get a higher rating for shooting. I'm really good at shooting yep. Though my time in the Navy has never involved a need to shoot anything other than inanimate objects.
On October 1 I go to SRF A school. I will run around with real guns shooting quite painful simrounds at mock terrorists. I will be running around getting shot by painful simrounds by mock terrorists. The instructors are all war vets. It may be a lot of fun.
I think maybe if I make it out of this, I might enjoy to some extent reading these blogs that I write. Most of them while trashed. I don't look anywhere anymore.
On October 1 I go to SRF A school. I will run around with real guns shooting quite painful simrounds at mock terrorists. I will be running around getting shot by painful simrounds by mock terrorists. The instructors are all war vets. It may be a lot of fun.
I think maybe if I make it out of this, I might enjoy to some extent reading these blogs that I write. Most of them while trashed. I don't look anywhere anymore.
Sunday, September 09, 2007
Not Japanese Poem, Japanese porn
I learned a new word about an hour ago "ecchi". It's Japanese and means "lewd" "sexy" or even "sexual intercourse". At first I thought it was just another one of the many sex words Americans are adopting from it's porn loving best friend. Further investigation has revealed something much more interesting (surprisingly) than its Americanized definition of Anime sensuality.
Ecchi is actually derived from the English letter "H". Which means that the Americans are getting their letter back, all fucked up and sloppy seconds-like. What's stranger is that the word goes back to Meiji era, meaning this is way older than anime, porn, or the Americanization of anything Japanese (like the word "Hentai", which to Americans means naked cartoons, whereas in Japan it is a noun meaning "pervert" and has nothing to do with nudity, sex, women, cartoons, the internet, or drawing. Just perverts.). So I don't buy the theory that it implies the word "hentai". It was most likely orginating of one of the other sex related Japanese words that start with H, like "harenchi".
Regardless, it was actually started by Japanese school girls in the Meiji era as a euphimism for sex. Thus showing its amazing transition from an English letter hiding the true meaning of sex, used by Japanese school girls, to becoming a Japanese word hiding its true meaning of sex, used by American guys jerking off to cartoons of Japanese school girls.
Of course in researching this word I ran across many others that I'm sure a good percentage of American men know and think they understand. Which just pisses me off, since I know none of you have any clue about the REAL Japan. I wish more of their culture than photos of school girls would make it out but I suppose they literally bring it upon themselves.
Ecchi is actually derived from the English letter "H". Which means that the Americans are getting their letter back, all fucked up and sloppy seconds-like. What's stranger is that the word goes back to Meiji era, meaning this is way older than anime, porn, or the Americanization of anything Japanese (like the word "Hentai", which to Americans means naked cartoons, whereas in Japan it is a noun meaning "pervert" and has nothing to do with nudity, sex, women, cartoons, the internet, or drawing. Just perverts.). So I don't buy the theory that it implies the word "hentai". It was most likely orginating of one of the other sex related Japanese words that start with H, like "harenchi".
Regardless, it was actually started by Japanese school girls in the Meiji era as a euphimism for sex. Thus showing its amazing transition from an English letter hiding the true meaning of sex, used by Japanese school girls, to becoming a Japanese word hiding its true meaning of sex, used by American guys jerking off to cartoons of Japanese school girls.
Of course in researching this word I ran across many others that I'm sure a good percentage of American men know and think they understand. Which just pisses me off, since I know none of you have any clue about the REAL Japan. I wish more of their culture than photos of school girls would make it out but I suppose they literally bring it upon themselves.
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Que’ bueno suerte
Mi amor, el sol sigue el noche. Pero no hay un ley para cuando la luz llega. Demo, watashi no ai, kyo wa kyo soshite aishta wa aishta soshite kon ban wa ii otenki desu. So just run with it, that without design cannot fail.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Traffic
So I helped smuggle some chronic and counterfit money over the border with a certain un-named person this weekend. Ha ha ha! No, not kidding. Though honestly none of the shit was mine.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
sans reason
Di was assaulted in Hong Kong. Swore to never talk about it. It was $90 for a massage and a harassing bitch of unknown nationality. At least I wasn't had. Just a thought. Mikey got video of me with some whores, but hey. You just don't know. When I think about how stupid I was in Japan, I know I can't go through with it anymore. Here though. Here is just depressing. I think about the origins, and the lies, and I lie to myself, and I punish myself.
She swears she feels nothing. I don't know if it's because she's doing that thing that teenage girls do oftimes, but I know I can't claim I'm any more down than her. I told her she wasn't allowed to die until after I do. You know there's a curious and seldom publicly discussed political/ethical debate about suicide. The two sides have no titles, but if they did, the pro-lifers would do as much as possible to legally ruin any one who thinks about self extermination. The pro-choicers are primarily pro-suicide. The opinion I hold, that reason allows for both life and death, seems a rare if not unique one.
Lately I've been thinking more of my past. I mean a more broad view, not the typical narrow and short version I usually employ in thought.
There was a boy of 5 who know every person on his street by name, because he went to their houses and spoke with them. There was a reality much harsher, in his life. Though the boy resurfaced, a kiss, a lack of kisses, and the ease of corruption in the souls surrounding makes this boy me, and I only talk to who I must, and I think often of the boy's choices, and of the Glock.
She swears she feels nothing. I don't know if it's because she's doing that thing that teenage girls do oftimes, but I know I can't claim I'm any more down than her. I told her she wasn't allowed to die until after I do. You know there's a curious and seldom publicly discussed political/ethical debate about suicide. The two sides have no titles, but if they did, the pro-lifers would do as much as possible to legally ruin any one who thinks about self extermination. The pro-choicers are primarily pro-suicide. The opinion I hold, that reason allows for both life and death, seems a rare if not unique one.
Lately I've been thinking more of my past. I mean a more broad view, not the typical narrow and short version I usually employ in thought.
There was a boy of 5 who know every person on his street by name, because he went to their houses and spoke with them. There was a reality much harsher, in his life. Though the boy resurfaced, a kiss, a lack of kisses, and the ease of corruption in the souls surrounding makes this boy me, and I only talk to who I must, and I think often of the boy's choices, and of the Glock.
Saturday, June 09, 2007
what life this man has wrought.
Backed into a corner. I just want this pain to stop. I know what I've done to deserve this. Oh god. Somehow. End this. My eyes burn. waiting. Kick in this door a kill me.
Monday, May 28, 2007
Mr. Wacy's Push
Here's the short of it, Wacy wouldn't listen to me when I told him my spirit was dead, because of him I ended up dancing with a beautiful half black/ half native american college girl from Novato and her 3 friends. Fucking Wacy quit and went to a titty bar. Don't know how that turned out. I really am unhappy about the matter. If I weren't dead inside I might have enjoyed it more.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Der Words
This liquor on my lips the blood of the German's Hart it is, my Russian is weak but the grain is strong, as we sing this cola song. I remember the nights of pleasures past and the newfound glories of stories that couldn't last. For it is my job to hurt, you and I and oftimes I am so good it makes girls cry. Not that I haven't, I surely wouldn't deny, but those days are over and now only silent night. The dream I had, the skin. the music, the pain, it's only today's arrangement of sugar that I disdain. But I still feel, I still move if only in mockery of the man whose words flourished in ample debauchery.
God forbid my actions and lack of faith, for I remain true in my trials and ways. I will not secede that which I held but if it ripped from me, this life that's been felled. I write this drunk of the fruits I have named, the German, the Russian, and the purest of grain, but that makes it no less true you see, for I am simply siempre a man of honesty.
God forbid my actions and lack of faith, for I remain true in my trials and ways. I will not secede that which I held but if it ripped from me, this life that's been felled. I write this drunk of the fruits I have named, the German, the Russian, and the purest of grain, but that makes it no less true you see, for I am simply siempre a man of honesty.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Nadie or the Purses
My roommate Mr. Mikey brings a girl over every day. I don't know who they are, and I don't really care. But I noticed I can remember them by the purse they leave on the counter. I've become the drunk roommate. The girls don't really acknowledge me. I just am drunk and siiting abouts. It reminds me of Ai's (Thai woman) roommate who was always home when I came over and made fantastic happy time. She made me dinner once. Also we went to her restauraunt, where she was a waitress once. Those were good times. Now I'm out on my drunk ass.
I sometimes wonder if I'll ever have to deal with one of these women. I wonder if any of them care. I don't think so. But I'm stuck on the double standard. Where I felt no connection to Ai, but assumed she felt a connection to me. Well, not me, but I mean a more a general idea that women are more emotional about sex. (btw thank buddha I learned how to type, cause I'm litterally too drunk to read this)
Anyway. The only reason I can imagine that Mr. Mikey can pull these girls into bed is that once these girls come to our apartment (or lair of awesomeness as it is) is that he plays completely "understanding" completely "fascinated" by everything she says. I am litarally sitting next to Mr. Mikey and girl of the night (tonight it's an AC) while she's blabing about her roommate and he's "yes sir" ing her. Also I'm trashed. So it's a wonder of science that I can write this, listen to her babble, and listen to TV. I am like a superhero.
I'm not jealous of him. He has no standards. If I had no standards, I could fuck a girl every night. All I feel on this subject is that I need to die.
"So how did you become a lightweight then?" - My roommate about to fuck girl number whatever, purse: red aligator skin/ leather.
"I don't know, I think it's because I haven't gone drinking out much since "C' school" since then." -Girl who Mikey saw today, therefor invited to come over today. (It's hella the only reason I know she's an AC cause they clean the hall right next to us.)
Hey she's on "Blue Moon" number 2!
Did you know, stupid people make more sense when your trashed?
I sometimes wonder if I'll ever have to deal with one of these women. I wonder if any of them care. I don't think so. But I'm stuck on the double standard. Where I felt no connection to Ai, but assumed she felt a connection to me. Well, not me, but I mean a more a general idea that women are more emotional about sex. (btw thank buddha I learned how to type, cause I'm litterally too drunk to read this)
Anyway. The only reason I can imagine that Mr. Mikey can pull these girls into bed is that once these girls come to our apartment (or lair of awesomeness as it is) is that he plays completely "understanding" completely "fascinated" by everything she says. I am litarally sitting next to Mr. Mikey and girl of the night (tonight it's an AC) while she's blabing about her roommate and he's "yes sir" ing her. Also I'm trashed. So it's a wonder of science that I can write this, listen to her babble, and listen to TV. I am like a superhero.
I'm not jealous of him. He has no standards. If I had no standards, I could fuck a girl every night. All I feel on this subject is that I need to die.
"So how did you become a lightweight then?" - My roommate about to fuck girl number whatever, purse: red aligator skin/ leather.
"I don't know, I think it's because I haven't gone drinking out much since "C' school" since then." -Girl who Mikey saw today, therefor invited to come over today. (It's hella the only reason I know she's an AC cause they clean the hall right next to us.)
Hey she's on "Blue Moon" number 2!
Did you know, stupid people make more sense when your trashed?
Thursday, May 10, 2007
The Ice Bridge
So if you pour yourself a glass of 151 and Sprite, is ice the bridge? I mean the 151 is a liquid and the Sprite is a liquid, but the ice, it's as cold as the 151 but isn't toxic, just like the Sprite. Drinking while ironing, and fixing bike flats is more than just fun, it's intoxicating.
Saturday, April 28, 2007
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!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)