Monday, November 14, 2005

It's a beautiful day in this neighborhood.

In times of gut wrenching emotional turmoil in my life, my mom and I traded inspirational quotes of the day….thoughts which resonated in our minds for mere seconds. Sometimes we’d discuss the day’s inspiration over the course of a few emails, promising to remember and apply it over the arduous hours, days, and weeks to come. Realistically, such a task becomes difficult in a society bombarded by tens of thousands of distractions in any given period of time. But I suppose the point is in the process of pondering and retaining that which is applicable to yours or another’s life. So today, Monday, the morning dreaded by many as many return to the doldrums of nine to fives, I present wise words from a great man whose spirit has touched and will continue to touch the lives of millions for years to come.

From The World According to Mister Rogers by Fred Rogers (given to me as a gift by a lovely friend and neighbor)

“You don’t ever have to do anything sensational for people to love you. When I say, ‘It’s you I like,’ I’m talking about that part of you that knows that life is far more than anything you can ever see or hear or touch….that part of you that allows you to stand for those things without which humankind cannot survive: love that conquers hate, peace that rises triumphant over war, and justice that proves more powerful than greed.
So in all that you do in all of your life, I wish you the strength and the grace to make those choices which will allow you and your neighbor to become the best of whoever you are.”


Tuesday, November 08, 2005

and 2 hate them & fear them, 2 run & 2 hide, & accept it all bravely, with GOD on my side.

So in the archives of this humble blog, an enthusiastic reader may find a little piece entitled “I am not a religious man.” The truth of this statement is that, I, in fact, am not a religious man. I am a spiritual being. I was never baptized, nor was I raised with any religious doctrine. I was left to wander throughout life as an observer, critiquing and discovering many paths towards becoming enlightened with the knowledge that what lay above and beyond might quite possibly be beyond all comprehension. And the path towards such an abstract way of seeing and being in the here and now is much more difficult than I could have ever never imagined.

So anywho….that being said…..a friend of mine is recovering from a nasty breakup with a girl 10 years his junior, a nineteen year old woman whose ex-husband/3 year old daughter’s father is in jail for raping a girl at knifepoint. Said ex has a coke problem, a sexual addiction, a poor upbringing, and a stronghold over my friend for her having guided him through an expensive addiction to strip clubs and their illusion of satisfaction and companionship. We’ve tried time and time again here at work to lead him towards the light, but to no avail. I’m sure I’ll expound upon this in the future….as I sneak more and more creative time from the man.

Here’s what my friend, Abe, had to say…..

"Beer, weed, working out, hookers... whatever, has definitely removed me from all situations for a brief period of time. While I'm sober, and in solitude, even at a strip club, I can sit and introspect, as a glaze over some girl's perception of what God's gift to man should look like."

"My mom actually said something of relevance in the past year... It goes like this,

'Running from problems(moving away) doesn't solve the problem. You have to face your problems head on. You have to accept the challenge that the problem brings you and beat it, and not let the challenges beat you down or change you. Be grateful for the day that you can drive by her subdivision without pulling into it and driving up to her house. You don't have to take a different road home."

And this was my reply…..enjoy, ignore, ponder, wonder, contradict, ingest.....in any case..thanks for reading.

Your affliction is that you’re a classic romantic with issues……me too.

It’s tough. It will take a long time. But you have no choice. If you believe in God, then you were meant not to be together. She could not and will not bring you happiness needed to live fully through this life.

I was thinking about Jesus after you called last night. Whether or not I believe Jesus was capable of miracles is irrelevant. The miracle is that 2000 years later, in a society hell bent on destroying itself through drugs, and commercialism, bombs, politics, false ideals, sex, hate, fear, etc…..his name is still spoken, revered, his influence on the world is stronger than that of the zealots and the fundamentalists..his word perseveres and in him people find solace and hope and trust, and the most amazing part of it all is that Jesus is in you. When you speak to him or to god, you’re speaking to yourself. When you change for him or for god, you’re changing for yourself. Some people prefer to boast or to be supported by many, others, such as I, choose to seek this spiritual essence of self on our own due to feeling uncomfortable by crowds. In either case, we’re in it alone until we reach out to Jesus…..reach out to ourselves, to the strongest, most faithful, true, trustworthy and passionate us that we can be. I think your bible group and the trip to mexico might be exactly what you need in your life. When the pain is so intense, and you feel that driving by her house will make it “go away”, reaching out to God or Jesus or friends who care for your well being is the best way to subdue the raging emotion until it subsides and you see it as merely an overload of chemicals saturating a fragile mind.

Trust me, I’ve been there.

Trust yourself, so have you.

And if you believe in Jesus and God…..trust in them….they are the answer.

Thursday, November 03, 2005

Now that the party is jumping, with the bass kicked in and the vegas are pumping....

jaques lu cont produced a tight remix of The Killer's Mr. Brightsidewhich I'm listening to right this second....or this one.......the bass is thumping, speakers pumping and probably waking the fcuking pain in the ass neighbor...and I'm on the third play....choking on your alibi's......this shite is fo real, nevermind that this song was played out like two months ago, I'm a sucker for a cold drink, flashing lights, sweaty bodies gyrating, bobbing heads and torsos in sync, feeling the music, endorphin rushes and life....images of nightclubs full of cool hip kitty kats, movers, ass shakers, candle stick makers, guido and trixie, stockbrokers in armani suits, old men with dirty thoughts and way too much loot flash boldly in BRIGHT LIGHTS along the marquee of my imagination.....i'm a house music junkie, self proclaimed..love it.

and I'm drinking diet coke and Makers...it's all that's left in the loft, I know, I could probably do better, but fcuk it...it's wednesday, I'm chilling with the cat, not extremely excited about the laundry I had planned to do, and am taking the proverbial edge off however I may please (provided it don't hurt no-one).....inasmuch as I'm craving the sweet release of a puff or two off the magic dragon right now, i'll stick with the makers...too many deulsions of grandeur are induced by that sneaky devil of a plant...

and all the while I'm wondering....have I become a myspace junkie, randomly surfing a web of faces and friends, pictures of good times, thoughts set to rhythm or rhyme, virtual companions in a coup d'etat, using media to break through media's grip on creative expression....i must have logged on and off at least five times tonight, sorry to say.....wonder what so and so is up to, did she update her fabulous blog, has anyone sent my sorry a$$ a hello? hello here people, I'm chilling tout seul on a hump day evening, tipping my glass to Hunter S., Rosa Parks, 150,000 tsunami victims, and myriad other lives not lived today.......so drop me a line from time to time, my virtual sisters and brothers of other mothers....state loud and proud that you're a part of an online revolution, or that I'm fcuking crazy, or that you're tired of hearing about depression, or that you'd love to......fill in the blank. speak your mind and speak it loud....i'm rambling...this really has no point, more an exercise in freeflowing thought from a progressively intoxicated 26 something youth.peace, love, and magic cupcakes.

p.s.....miss kitten has now entered the mix...

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

whoisjobe: the story continues to begin?

I have this incessant need to runaway, in an attempt to fix problems which may or may not exist. I want to run, as fast I can, anywhere but here, anywhere but the certainty of monotony. And yet the paradox of the my strife is that it could in fact all be a giant subconscious lie, a trick forged deep in the chasms of a fragile mind years ago when I was clutched from my mothers arms by a jealous father. That month of complete terror and uncertainty could be the pre to my post traumatic stress disorder. Let's assume, for a second or two, that such a term is applicable in real life, that it can be engrained in human psyche (to me it’s obvious, to many non-believers it’s a giant excuse, an excuse they don’t buy when in all actuality no one was selling it to them). Then all this time I've made mistake after mistake, the answer was underneath the mat, hidden behind a dew covered leaf and waiting to be exposed as a mendacious truth. Maybe the desire to run is perpetually triggered because I ran, by no choice of my own. My father took me to California and ran: away from his problems, away from my mother and the police, away from his fractured self. And in his manic reaction to my mother’s grant of full custody, his influence in my life was reduced to nothing more than a cheap attempt at redemption. What a prick, what a sorry investment, one month of a child's life, obtained surreptitiously and traded for never your son again, never again having another chance to teach him how to surf or take pictures, pick up girls or peruse through the windows of life picking this or that destiny, tempting fate yet trusting in knowledge passed down through lineage and family trust. I have no desire to seek him out for fears too difficult to explain: Freudian fears of a crashing plane or a maniac with a gun. He's not the answer, but what is? I want to runaway and leave the people I love to discover those I don't. I want to run and search and glide across the surface of things without a trail-map, forever wondering why the boulders I've stumbled over have been anything but few and far between. No wonder why I'm forever stuck asking questions and trying to reveal the key behind the leaf. It's all too evident and yet still a grand mystery. It's still my life, a rain drop in the ocean of humanities history.

Tuesday, November 01, 2005

strong as tar, distracted, consumed, racing backwards, wondering who the fcuk you are...

Back on the edge of absolute insanity, yet controlled, able to reach down and grab a bag, twist a cap and pour a little peach pill into my hand. Damn caffeine, strong as motor oil this morning, take the paint right off your car. And I want to be in touch with all my friends at once, a giant orgy rated pg, clothes on, just jubilant jovial times, unwinding, not stuck like a rat in cage, despite all my rage. Subtle bass drops lead a wary mind from focusing on the redundant as redundant ideas are repeated. Trite, true statements. Questions about love, where is it? I know it exists. Mais ce n’est pas vrai, je ne crois pas q’il est la. Neurons misfiring, misguiding a fragile mind through 2 minutes of a Tuesday morning. Damn coffee, made it to strong. Believe me, there’s gold that lay just beneath the surface of things, Midas reached into the womb, yet was subdued by an asp, the devil’s grasp causing him to wait, time and time and time again. Wait for her, wait for brighter teeth, for stronger arms, for 10,000 volts unleashed from the heaven’s above, turning saul to paul, sending fear to hell on the wings of a dove. It’s madness, welcome, it doesn’t make any sense. It’s a welcome distraction. It’s my life, it’s my mind on legal drugs.