a dream I just had

Posted: October 6th, 2010 | Author: | Filed under: Creative Non-Fiction | No Comments »

I was in another realm or dimension. It was a very strange place and extremely perplexing. It was a dark and dirty place where people were scared all the time, I think. There may have been devils about or some kind of similar threat. There was a friend I had staying over and I think I tried to feed her something, or I think she was tired, no no, there was coffee ground and she smeared it on her body or something and said that she was sure to be tired tonight because she would have a caffeine crash and I was disappointed by that. There were deep dark caves where I am sure it was not safe to be, and there were monsters there, lurking. I was alone a lot. There was a lot of the color brown. You could be in your bed and suddenly slip down a hole attached to your pillow and go down down a tunnel and plop out somewhere dark on the other end where you were truly in danger. I remember I was in a trance in bed and I thought I could move but I could only move a phantom hand or arm, and the rest of my ‘real’ arm would stay where it was. One time I thought I could move, with great difficulty and I moved and picked up my cell phone, which looked like my cell phone in ‘real’ life, but it was cracked and I was like fuck. Then I realized I hadn’t moved at all and it was all an illusion. So I tried again and this is when I saw my transparent, almost ghost-like hand and arm move away while my ‘real’ hand and arm stayed right where it was. At one point, my fake see-through arm picked up my ‘real’ arm and held it in between the two fakes; it was absolutely bizarre. There were so many layers.


flash something

Posted: September 10th, 2010 | Author: | Filed under: Creative Non-Fiction | No Comments »

Four star Chinese general got on television and said China was willing to lose everything in order to blow a hole in America.

Roosevelt was president for 12 years?

“This is my favorite band.”
“Can you turn it down a little?”
Doosh is in the house.

You try to share something of what you think with someone, even though you know they are completely absorbed in themselves, though that is not completely wrong, but you tell them nonetheless therefore you should accept what kind of company you are around, just because a person is messed up that doesn’t mean in any way that they are cool. It just means they have some type of perspective that isn’t mainstream; that doesn’t mean that their perspective is in any way interesting, but also of course in a sense everything is interesting, but some people you just have to know are stupid, as much as you don’t want them to be, but they are just as stupid as you think they are, and you can’t think all the time that you aren’t doing something, that you could be doing so much more, that you shouldn’t be thinking what you are thinking, you should just trust yourself and let whatever you think come out and then you can look at what it is as least. So it should just come. Whatever else happens, whatever happens, it is all the fucking same, negative and positive streaming so close to each other that you can’t really distinguish between them anymore because you can hardly distinguish any of your thoughts at all, all is just strange and here but not really but nonetheless you are either experiencing it or not, or any other variant of it combined only of these two elements.

What the fuck…dah dah dah, married man.

But cool, choose comfort over excitement…someone to always take care of you, you’re fat….your dick didn’t grow that long….but yeah it’s good to talk to someone far…fucking weird. Phony Tony.

You go back to your wife.

All the American girls that come here have green with them. But they know what slavery is…all the people here, they know it; they generally know what is going on here.


motion

Posted: January 7th, 2010 | Author: | Filed under: Creative Non-Fiction | No Comments »

Music forces me down memory lane seemingly against my will. But what is it that I remember? A love so unrelenting that it almost killed me or a being whose only soul lived in the tunes he shared. When I had lost all hope I turned to him and he both saved and tortured me with sweet poisonous juice from the most beautiful withering flower. Never believe in someone that uses your past to create your future, to mold your mind into something more malleable, to cause your psyche to short circuit and yet spark in all the wrong places. I became his and remained true, grew black with bitter resentment, got caught up in his sin, pledged to forgive though the claws of my inner truth scraped so defiantly against my soul that blood came forth from my eyes. I saw only red. I followed but was not led. I hated everything but required myself to abide. Everything in me screamed in opposition but I did just the same though verbally fighting, I cried frequently and met with indifferent reverberations. When I started to break shit and struggle using my tongue as a weapon I was finally dismissed at just the right time to flee and be lifted up by the youth all around me. The pull to something more beautiful, finally I was awake to all I left behind. All I gave up, all my future could hold. Destined for China I lived, met, mingled truly. And here I am in china now just like I said I would be. Missing everything I have left again.
Why do these sounds still move my soul? It must have gone deep deep, as it does when you think you love someone and you give yourself over to them through commitment and yearning. It makes no since to dwell mentally in one I thought mine when in truth I was never his and he was never mine. I am somewhere else now, though I was never there. Just let it go but I can’t for some reason. He like the devil moves in me. I know him toxic and me so much stronger than to submit, but why why why? Let it the fuck go. That is not your path. The path is uncertain but so is the tide. It must just be radio head whom I love. If I am let down again so be it. Everyone will die sometime. The malady of nostalgia creeps in and ruins all. He was never enough. I was never myself. Like a sick child I clung to him, moving, and breaking, under his morbid dwarfed foot tangled in misery I spun round and around dazed by my unbelievable miscalculations. I drank, worked, burned, spat, dug, drifted away from myself and became someone new, temporarily. Now I have myself back but again am new, always; making, believing, and trusting in something.
Gone I went to a different land and now I sit cold in my bed with wet hair, slightly shivering, a teacher sometimes in deep mourning, sometimes with bright light coming from my eyes. Dreams of forts and pies, drinking milk naked with a kitten named sparkle bubble baby love, fire places and magic balls, making love warm in a womb. It is just fine that I don’t know the future; I never did. I got out; that is all that matters. No longer do I have to kiss ass to his indiscriminately cold parents. I don’t have to price books and sell them like they don’t have words. I don’t have to sit in a corner pretending to be happy. I don’t have to be in that apartment waiting for him to get home smelling like alcohol and lying to me. I don’t have to hang out with his stupid inbreed friend feeding him the ‘truth’. I no longer have to be the ‘girlfriend’ who doesn’t have a real job and only has pipe dreams of being a writer and getting a PhD. I don’t have to go to sleep dejectedly in that big comfortable bed with that little pathetic excuse for a man. I am not in union with someone that doesn’t like or understand who I am. I don’t have to make excuses for doing nothing but writing all day. I don’t have to sleep that bed where he fucked other women. I don’t have to live in that apartment that reeked of a feminist turning her back on herself. I left him. That is all. I am free. That doesn’t have to be my life.


evening

Posted: November 20th, 2009 | Author: | Filed under: Creative Non-Fiction | 2 Comments »

So I am drinking left over vodka and intermitted talking to Chris while my internet dies and becomes alive. I just got back from Hunan this morning and now I am seriously enjoying some vodka. So I have heard that liquor in china is stronger because less people drink it, so strange. But oh how I love to enjoy red hot chili peppers here and rock out and pink Floyd, the wall. Rudy, my co-worker from Canada, has this idea, and so does Scott from the branch in Hunan, that we foreigners are just dogs here at the Chinese people’s service here to teach them English. They know we have something they don’t. here…. I am to go away to take some more vodka and try to release myself into writing a bit until at last I go to sleep which might be kind of hard because basically I slept all day. But I have work tomorrow which I am kind of excited about. Ok vodka seriously now. Cigarettes are the only thing I have plenty of. There is still beer, dried brown beer, on my living room floor from the get together I had the other day with — and Nic. We got elated and drunk and had a sparring competition which I won and I had a great time, I really did. Except when A— kept calling me Vicky and telling me that he loved me; that was kind of strange and he doesn’t even remember anything and doesn’t want to know so of course I won’t tell him even though it wasn’t even bad; he just got really wasted and hallucinated that I was his girlfriend. I tended to him while nic was in the other room, whenever I would leave he would scream, “Vicky”, it was undeniably peculiar and I was semi-relieved when he left. How am I going to live up to my public aspirations? How am I going to make my English corners better? How am I going to turn all these ramblings in to an artistic piece or multiple pieces? I will fucking find a god damn way. I need and want to have something big published in my grandmother’s lifetime.
I have had the strangest dream last night about my step grandfather, aka my dad. Reality: I wasn’t washing and removing my clothes from the laundry room fast enough for him and there was something happening at a certain time that meant I had to have my clothes removed at a certain time and I wasn’t doing it quick enough so he said if I didn’t have it done by a certain time they would throw away my clothing, which he could tell it pissed me off because I cried subtly and immediately began trying to organize my clothing. Later he told me it turns out I could have it done at a different time and I knew that was meant to be as an apology and an act of kindness so that I would forgive him. But I did not show any signs of forgiveness, I just said ok and acted as if everything was normal. I have said repeatedly that I wanted him to have my email address and email me because I did not want to not talk to him for year of my life but there has been no email from him and I wonder what that mean perhaps I need to make my desires much more clear from my grandmother aka mother so that my deeds may be done in this life. I fear for his health because he has diabetes and doesn’t take care of himself and I have seen him with my very eyes, his swollen ankles, and naturally I am worried. I love him I really do even though I have odd memories which I can’t explain, but I know I have hurt him with my child materialistic worries, he was even said to have said from my sister, aka my half aunt, “I have never felt so loved”, which breaks my heart and has been breaking my heard for sometime now, but what can I do but push forward and try to accomplish my desires stronger than I have aimed before.
I am in fucking china, a place where many dare not go; they are scared and I cannot really blame them but I wanted to come here to show them, look you can come to scary places and everything will be ok; it isn’t as bad or like you imagine. This is a part of my life I will never forget though I like to think that I would not forget any part of my life and I mostly don’t, even to the minor detail I remember most. Right now my computer is playing “A Drink of Cherry Cola” by savage garden and I just keep writing writing and never want to stop. I can’t seem to figure out how to make my water hot and it pisses me off because I fear in the morning I will not be able to make my water hot in time to get to work on time and might have to take a cold shower goddammit and I need a hair cut but it will be difficult to get what I want because of the language barrier but I will try to take the wonderful –, ex co-worker, with me in order to attain my desire. Cig. Sleep soon? It is 11:48 pm here. And it is cold in my apt and all I want to do is take a hot shower and talk to my boyfriend but I don’t think that will happen because my internet is shitty and I can’t figure out how to make my shower hot and what the fuck is going to happen to me in china. I feel like something big, besides the already existing happenings, is going to happen but I do not yet suspect what. But am sitting here in my room trying to feel out what could possibly happen to me….
I will try as long as possible, in every lever direction, to find the right way to make the hot water work for a shower. I am now listening to the Artic Monkeys thanks to –. He is with a possibly crazy Chinese woman that lives in his apt. what the hell is wrong with my internet; how I long to talk to my own boy friend but I know he is on his way somewhere so he will or already is busy. China, I decided to come to china and now I am in china living and working. To take another swig of vodka or not that is the question.


are my posts not

Posted: November 14th, 2008 | Author: | Filed under: Creative Non-Fiction | No Comments »

showing up at the end of the page or is it just me


messy not edited, but oh oh oh

Posted: August 20th, 2008 | Author: | Filed under: Creative Non-Fiction | 7 Comments »

with a perceiving consciousness the whole world can be realized and felt in one instant. beauty, that is, the perception of it is something special that comes after necessary human development, basic needs like food and shelter. our thoughts and minds need a shift away from the old in order to have the flower of enlightenment of consciousness/beauty. when humans take a step away from what simply makes up their bones and the world they see around them, when there is a realization of a universal oneness, then humanity will be evolving for the better. life, the embodiment of life is all we can see. different forms and materials can showcase life but they are all a part, not separate from everything else. if we are everything around us then we should love all and ourselves and only want what’s best. this stems from the break in modes of identification. one must not only identify with their own body and the objects around them, but also with the unimaginable, the intangible, the other side of the world.

our insistence to focus on form and structure in order to gain understanding of the world really just takes us further away from true understanding. for if we define the eyes we see through and the "meaning" around us then we are making meaning not seeing true meaning. then we turn into what we believe we see and truth has nothing to do with belief or sight. we can only begin to become transparent to truth when our vision is no longer muddied by the structures we have constructed in our minds. do we really see that bike on the lawn? our perception cannot lead us to truth unless we realize this.

what’s in the possibility of a kiss? is it fruitfulness? what about love and connections with other sentient beings has the power to make us not care that the entire world is destroying itself? we live in our own little worlds and movement radii and are happy/dependent on shutting out all the horror going on presently. we also of course forget and distort the past therefore how are we ever to learn from it? we will just keep adding layers of bullshit to world history. the government makes it to where the citizens perpetuate the lifestyles the government chooses. the gov. is in control the whole time unless someone else is willing to start coming up with and propagating new ideals that are no longer of an archaic era. out of the dark ages and into transparency of reality, what an era that would be. no war, no violence, everyone would be fed. disease would drop. we would deal with the population boom the decrease of death rates would cause. so now if we cared a little more about other people and forms of life we could make this world better. but we have to TALK in order to gain a better understanding of what’s going on so that we can formulate the best possible modes of change. will this happen or will what is perhaps my mating instincts make me distracted from my purpose in life? my mind works in so many ways that there is no use worrying about it.

just to try and do both at the same time without sacrificing sentiment on either side. can i accept accepting that the world is something separate from myself and therefore i can be happy and reside in my radii, never caring about those g damned starving children. while i sit on my ass and write about how much i care instead of actually doing something about everything? and that is no god speaking to me in an omniscient scandalous way. unless we realize our ignorance we will never "know" anything for as much as anyone can know anything anyways. the collective mental illness is going to kill us all unless we reach a more peaceful perspective on the "world" and what we should do with it, whether or not we think it actually exists.

war war war, judgment, power, collective prototype individualism. what role does the government play in the creating of the system and the citizens? current capitalism makes us always want more, if we always want more then we never have enough, then we will spend our entire lives working till’ our hands are bleeding just to keep the same desire for more until it stops with death. thus lives are wasted and twisted for the gov.’s purpose of never calapsing. must keep the system, must stay in as an -individual- so i don’t feel bad about or linked to the gov.’s horrendous blood thirsty agenda. 40’s, 50’s, 60’s, 70’s-> rush of first consumerism, then mass producing capitalism, uniformity of must haves and must be-s. then individualism to sell more than what the people already had or knew yet that they wanted. the integration of individualism to the masses led or resulted from product placement and selling to the individual consumer. appeal to the inner desires and insecurities of the masses in order to keep them ‘more’ hungry drones so that the people in charge (cooperations and gov.)could keep right on controlling, and dictating meaning and making money.

the fear of human madness has led us to this point. the fear of what the masses are capable of unless guided by superiors is what has been driving earth’s societies for hundreds of years. the fear of the human mind led the elite to believe the lowly needed to be controlled but with the progression of education there are more people that are fed, educated, and can think for themselves. we need to strip off the idea that the masses need to be controlled due to their dangerous unpredictable minds. what gave the gov. that right? money, power, but it never made it right. people desire structure and systems to see and categorize the world through. so it’s easy to see why those in control would use belief systems in order to give the people a false sense of self. binaries give people a "right" and a "wrong" so they can feel that they are right. therefore the gov. can tell them any way to believe since the gov. has been responsible for mass producing and propagating religion for centuries. if the gov. can create a god for people to believe in, to save their souls, then they can also control the people because they control what "god" says. people care a lot about themselves and the people they love, no one wants eternal damnation. religion is not innocent.

we do not know truth. religion is not truth. why must the ego be so strong to kill, to protect. madness? instinct? define- control- protect- propagate
how can we believe that religion is truth when it has been defined for us by others. with people at the forefront of defining reality, and story-telling and mental dysfunction also in conception of human thought, we will forever stay in an ego worshiping totalitarian state. we apply structure. there is not structure. we apply meaning, there is not meaning. there is not truth. materialism, the "physical" cannot be accepted as truth therefore why could the mentally constructed ever be thought more real than what we can see with our own eyes. i can’t trust my mind. i can’t trust the gov. i can’t trust "god". just live.


Dream It Stream It! (2000) edited (2008)

Posted: July 27th, 2008 | Author: | Filed under: Creative Non-Fiction | No Comments »

One who searches for some serenity of the soul faces a lofty goal. It can never be achieved without paying a price, but one can never understand true happiness without ever feeling pain.
Take a chance and roll the dice. Search for something more. The result of failure may lead to death, madness or endless dreamless nights and dreadful days of discontent. The impossibility of surviving a break from the herd may scare many would be searchers away. They are sadly returned into conformed and reformed sheep left grazing on a grassy knoll. The hill is loaded with TNT(lsd) waiting for you or me to set it off and blow them all into awareness of their lost pursuit for perfection and instant gratification. No one knows who they are, but everyone wants to be a star. No one wants to be their own planet or give up their pleasures to save this one. It might be possible to achieve serenity by realizing the perfect imperfectness of everything in its natural state of bliss and anarchy combined in perfect harmony. Loving Anarchy. Unite, love and create new hope! PetalOfHope.jpg


Stream of Something…. (2000) updated (2008)

Posted: July 20th, 2008 | Author: | Filed under: Creative Non-Fiction | 2 Comments »

At a wild party one night… Buddha stumbles into Christ. They gambled all night. Jesus began to roll the dice. Krishna cuts the cards. My head spins, caught up in this maelstrom. Dreaming of something more, opening some closed door to salvation. It is hidden behind mirrors the front of which reflect wasted tears and faces filled with fear. Truth is hidden beyond. The discovery of truth does not promise happiness and mirrors reflect our vanity. They deny our beauty and sanity damning us to an eternity of illusion and mass confusion. We forget what is real. What is Real? I cannot trust my own eyes in a world filled with lies. To feel hope requires faith in something more. A puropose for being. I trust my heart and inner voice to guide me through these lonely nights. Regret haunts me because for so long I allowed myself to wallow in self-pity while becoming jaded and slowly losing sight of my self. I continue to stumble on through the pain and love becomes truth once more. A door is opened and I discover a new path to follow. A new destination to reach. My heart was destroyed and reborn stronger. Mirrors shatter into sand and I see myself as I truly am. Acceptance and patience free me from lonliness and hopelessness. I am the same loving man I once was. The pain is fading leaving only love, faith and hope once more in the beauty of this lovely journey called life.


waste of time

Posted: July 14th, 2008 | Author: | Filed under: Creative Non-Fiction | 1 Comment »

Why must we always do laundry, wait, something is breaking into the monotony, I hear thunder, lots of it, oh rain how it is a gentle shower whether it pours all day or flash floods the west. I forget who I am when I think about other people reading my writing, I need to write with the intention of showing no one, and then when something comes out alright I will know what to do with it. Constant swirling of ideas going like a merry-go-round in my head, like the endless cycle of water pumping and precipitating through the veins of our home planet. Ranging from human achievement along with downfall, which would seem to encompass all except for the desire to keep going, to keep making things happen. That paper isn’t going to write itself, so in the process of earning a degree I have learned to be my own creator. The world will look like what you make it; surely one does not have control over everything happening, but one can create circumstances that would naturally lead to certain possible outcomes. This is where I believe humans lose themselves, somewhere between the grocery store and an idealized notion of heaven. So maybe I’m a scene person who wears stripes, I am not trying to look like a pirate or where’s Waldo, I am not trying to look like anything, though I do like it when my shirt is see-through so fucking eat your eyes out bitches. So many people robbed of the consciousness of conscious thought, robbed of perceiving that they can only perceive, bewitched by the eye make-up and who has the coolest hair. We all stand around and get drunk, are we searching for something or just want everyone to think we’re found? We are searching for acceptance in other people’s eyes, but don’t they know people are full of shit and would eat one just as well as the next if they were starving? The American party isn’t so innocent. If I could hear other people’s thoughts I wonder what I would do with that information, make people fall in love, avoid people that really wish to harm me, protect others as well, though they probably wouldn’t listen to me. Get this, there would be this really hot guy, with long hair, you know the music type, that plays the bass and thinks he can sing, so suave you wouldn’t know he’s faking, there he is and there is the girl in stripes, that doesn’t care if she has a giant pimple on her cheek, she is looking for something to fill the deep impenetrable void inside her heart, the pink stripped heart that bleeds red ink for those she loves most. They are all gathered here together in the wild circus tent of life; they masquerade around like peacocks and masturbating lizards. Stripes are innocent in comparison to conviently placed white poke-a-dots on top of pink toe nails. A for effort the fuck head says as he looks down at her unusually large feet, the toes gleaming brightly, as if smiling at him with eager mist. They all march hand and hand to the end of the world, smiling all the way at their own superiority.
Meanwhile, there are Indians living on a reservation, because the land their father’s father’s…because white people fucked over the red man, so some live on land borrowed from the government, while white people starve themselves to be a size six. What the hell is going on? I want to believe so much the human race can rise out of their sleeping chamber, that is an unfair metaphor, rather, they are not sleeping at all, and still all the world is stricken with illness while we put poke-a-dots on our toe nails. Hey, I like poke-a-dots as well as the next person and I also know that I am not living my life the way I believe I should. There is so much more that I want to be doing; I am going to feel like an absolute failure to the human race if I am dying, as I am, and I have not made the way, for future beings, that much closer to a tolerant, understanding, peaceful thinking global community.


stream of consciousness, TV

Posted: July 14th, 2008 | Author: | Filed under: Creative Non-Fiction | 1 Comment »

we all do it.

There is a man and he is hungry, sitting there, the type of sitting there that is characteristic to not knowing what to do with one’s self. A sort of gentle determination without direction on his face.
There presently is a girl sitting at a kitchen table with everywhere to go and no where she wants to be except within her self and possibly with a boy that is north. She sits there appreciating that she is a person and can sit and enjoy her person hood, but the foggy unknown slowly creeps into her mind and she is poisoned with sick oppression. There is love, the most beautiful kind, the kind where only kindness matters. Where is the love coming back? Is it in the trees or in the words of others? Is the point of love that it doesn’t matter if it comes back, and that is when it’s truly pure? But still, there is the food to eat and the laundry to launder, the messes to clean and the responsibility of buying groceries. It is life that makes the experience both mesmerizing and crippling. And the loud televisions in the background never stop and when they do people scramble around knowing that they are lost. What is the television; it is the community sitting in the living room. We are so hungry for human interaction that we invite the whole of society into our homes, everyday. People spend more time watching TV than they do trying to make the world a safer more hospitable place for generations to come. Where are the people that give a damn about the generations to come, why are they hiding behind televisions and desks and the community? What is it about other humans that makes me so fearful? I want to be honest and frank and never be afraid of myself or any feelings I harbor. Does that mean a life being lived in shame? Never.