B: the Ballard Loft in Ballard. It's a loft in Ballard. It's not as cool as it sounds...
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
Saturday, September 21, 2013
That man is peeing.
His feet, on the sidewalk, his urine splashing in the street. I'm across the street on my lunch break eating a crumpet (no joke here. Delicious stuff) and suddenly I can't stop staring at this man and his liquids spilling out of him. Coincidentally, I was drinking an apple cider and wasn't thirsty for the drink anymore.
He was peeing in the street for all to see. It would totally be sad if it wasn't so hilarious, know what I mean?
My friend who works at the crumpet shop (again- yes, a real thing) was passing by taking the trash out and asked me how my lunch was going. I didn't stop my cold, blank stare at the man and was only able to reply with:"that man is peeing."
I also passed one, two, three, four, five , six, seven people on my way home who desperately asked me for a dollar...and that was only the first 4 blocks.
Happy Saturday, America! Whoa.
We just took a quick turn to the sober "ufunny land," didn't we?
I just kept writing and that's what happened.
You're welcome or I'm sorry, I haven't decided yet.
We just took a quick turn to the sober "ufunny land," didn't we?
I just kept writing and that's what happened.
You're welcome or I'm sorry, I haven't decided yet.
Rodent follow-up!!!
ALL THE MICE ARE DEAD!
My lease ended and I moved apartments. Not my mouse, not my problem.
The end.
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
Man v. Nature
So I'm sitting on my bed eating a recently frozen go-gurt and I see a gray movement at the top left corner of my bed. It takes a second to register exactly what it is...
It's a rat. Or a mouse. Some sort of small, semi-cute, mostly gross rodent...I'm no scientist, don't judge me for not knowing. Anyway, it's not important.
So I start farting in panic not really sure what to do. This is after I've stood up on my bed as rigid as a tree. I have no idea where this rodent came from. I wake up my brother and he seems generally unphased by the situation. Maybe he thinks this is all a dream though I was persistent in telling him that this was reality, this was happening. My brother says, in half-drunk sleep talk: "I trust you to take care of this tricky predicament, rilessss". He quickly falls back asleep with a loud snore. Damn.
I am left alone in the dead of the night with this rodent. I think of calling my landlord but its late and I don't wanna be "that guy." So I make an AWESOME trap, put some food in it and wait silently though every time I see the little guy I get way too excited and chase it, which I realize, from his perspective, is probably one of the most terrifying things that has ever happened to him in his life. Sorry I'm not sorry, lil guy.
Armed with only my fruit of the loom boxer briefs, a flashlight and my wits, I start to think about that classic cartoon "Tom & Jerry" where a cat tries to kill a mouse and vice versa...it was a kids show, very wholesome. I think "what would Tom and Jerry do? Or WWTJD, for the purists. I thought "well...this looks like a small rodent...maybe not that smart so he'll think my trap is not a trap but a peace offering. Little does he know I'm trying to capture him.
I start talking to the rat saying: "get out". "You may be a creature of God but you're in my house now and I am NOT afraid to kill you!" "Please leave you stupid $@"&!!"
You know...the usual...
Everytime I feel a scratch or an itch on my body, I think it's Rufus pushing my buttons...what? Oh, what? Come on!!! ...I HAVE to name the lil rodent dude! Apparently he's living with us now!!!
Oh did I forget to mention that this whole debauqle is still going on right now? Ya this story is unresolved. See what's happening is I'm trying a new tactic: pretend I'm not paying attention to mouse because I'm on phone blogging. Good plan, right?
So, in short, this whole post was a ploy to catch this mouse and--
Oh! He's close!!! Time to go in for the kill!
Until next time, peace!!!
Thursday, August 8, 2013
Flying to CT
Waking up in Seattle, silently packing.
Over an omlette in Chicago, watching the sun rise.
Clouds are a less expensive, more private, kinder version of a Rorschach test.
Dear tips of the wing, meet my wing tip shoes...
From the sky, Connecticut looks like one giant piece of broccoli.
On the ground, the trees are a reminder that the place is, indeed, a different one.
The houses, remarkable.
The attitudes, different.
The love, the same.
What is America?
A currency?
A language?
An architecture?
An army?
A feeling?
A judgement?
Freedom?
Are we, by definition, a jumbulia, a melting pot that keeps chanting: "WE TASTE GREAT!"
Does national pride matter?
Or is that too "redneck" for poetry?
Over an omlette in Chicago, watching the sun rise.
Clouds are a less expensive, more private, kinder version of a Rorschach test.
Dear tips of the wing, meet my wing tip shoes...
From the sky, Connecticut looks like one giant piece of broccoli.
On the ground, the trees are a reminder that the place is, indeed, a different one.
The houses, remarkable.
The attitudes, different.
The love, the same.
What is America?
A currency?
A language?
An architecture?
An army?
A feeling?
A judgement?
Freedom?
Are we, by definition, a jumbulia, a melting pot that keeps chanting: "WE TASTE GREAT!"
Does national pride matter?
Or is that too "redneck" for poetry?
This is ground.
I took a train to the airport and looking out the window in South Seattle or so, I saw a plastic sign on a church with large, red letters stating "THIS IS HOLY GROUND."
I got pissed by this comment.
My blood started to boil and my fists were mid-clench when I said to my self:
"Whoa, Riles, before you turn into the Hulk on us, why don't you think about and analyze why that comment made you so angry?"
So I did...
Besides the fact that I was probably hungry and tired...
The comment on the church implies that there is such a thing as unholy ground.
What ground is not holy?
Does unholy ground exist?
Why do I care?
Does it matter?
What was their intent?
My Jesuit-influenced education has trained me to try and see God in all things and therefore holiness or awesome-ness (ie something worth revering) exists in every part of this holy planet, right?
Per usual, I'm full of questions with no answers.
Type "Rilke on questions" in Google if the lack of answers makes you as uneasy as it does me.
Until next time, take care.
I got pissed by this comment.
My blood started to boil and my fists were mid-clench when I said to my self:
"Whoa, Riles, before you turn into the Hulk on us, why don't you think about and analyze why that comment made you so angry?"
So I did...
Besides the fact that I was probably hungry and tired...
The comment on the church implies that there is such a thing as unholy ground.
What ground is not holy?
Does unholy ground exist?
Why do I care?
Does it matter?
What was their intent?
My Jesuit-influenced education has trained me to try and see God in all things and therefore holiness or awesome-ness (ie something worth revering) exists in every part of this holy planet, right?
Per usual, I'm full of questions with no answers.
Type "Rilke on questions" in Google if the lack of answers makes you as uneasy as it does me.
Until next time, take care.
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
Acting theory...
Whitman wrote "I am large, I contain multitudes!" Actors are people who are just really in touch with their multitudes. Period.
Sunday, June 9, 2013
My heart is a bouncy ball
My heart is a bouncy ball
I have an internal rythm.
Bounce bounce bounce
The basketball goes into the hoop growing up with white people, I was better at it.
Then introduced into the world, I wasn't.
Slowly and slowly get introduced to the world, the bounce
Bounce bounce bounce
Bounce bounce bounce bounce bounce bounce bounce
27 ounces
I internal bouncing.
I have an internal rythm.
Bounce bounce bounce
The basketball goes into the hoop growing up with white people, I was better at it.
Then introduced into the world, I wasn't.
Slowly and slowly get introduced to the world, the bounce
Bounce bounce bounce
Bounce bounce bounce bounce bounce bounce bounce
27 ounces
I internal bouncing.
Writing reflections...
And anyway: what did any great writer do but write about what they experienced? In some way to shape or form writing what I experience and observe is all I can do. Some may find that constricting but I think it's liberating. It's awesome. Truth is stranger than fiction but fiction knows no boundary so one can easily turn a bad teacher in their life into fiction: the big, bad wolf or the snake on the trees, etc.
Pike Place reflections
Time passes funny here at work. See. That's such an odd sentence but there's no other way I can describe it. I get in a flow, feel sorta robotic sometimes but am never really bored because the influx of people and their natural color of skin,
Clothes, hair, or attitude excites and tickles me. It's so fun to fuck with people. In the best way possible. It's lovely just enjoying people's company and having people return for more. It's a fun gig. I hope I don't get tired of it but I fear I will. It's like Dostoevsky, though, right? One time he said to me: "human beings can get used to anything" and frankl later added ..."just don't ask us HOW." I'm not working at the holocaust so I imagine my process of HOW I get used to this part of my life will be a lot more humane than frankls. It's like I'm developing immediate, brief, pockets of friendship with these customers. Little blurbs or quotations of "hello's" and "goodbye's" or what have you. Ultimately, I'm a crook because I'm only being nice to them because I'm being paid, right? Or am I a good person. I don't think it really matters. I'm surrounded by so many judgemental people, at school, it seems. It's just the nature of art school I suppose: we critique each other often and always and it bleeds over into our social atmosphere and people think their perceptions of people are the golden truth but, in any event, that's totally just my perception. It's cool being at the market. It's a bevy of humanity. Like the pasta I sell: so many flavors. It's sunny on this break. A nice breeze. Sound of people chatting, a plane riding above me, crows flying, music faintly playing in four distant directions. Someone yelling "go to the noodle stand" gets me excited to meet them. The smell of ash, cigarettes, dingy, old but not sad. Weathered, used, antiqued.
Clothes, hair, or attitude excites and tickles me. It's so fun to fuck with people. In the best way possible. It's lovely just enjoying people's company and having people return for more. It's a fun gig. I hope I don't get tired of it but I fear I will. It's like Dostoevsky, though, right? One time he said to me: "human beings can get used to anything" and frankl later added ..."just don't ask us HOW." I'm not working at the holocaust so I imagine my process of HOW I get used to this part of my life will be a lot more humane than frankls. It's like I'm developing immediate, brief, pockets of friendship with these customers. Little blurbs or quotations of "hello's" and "goodbye's" or what have you. Ultimately, I'm a crook because I'm only being nice to them because I'm being paid, right? Or am I a good person. I don't think it really matters. I'm surrounded by so many judgemental people, at school, it seems. It's just the nature of art school I suppose: we critique each other often and always and it bleeds over into our social atmosphere and people think their perceptions of people are the golden truth but, in any event, that's totally just my perception. It's cool being at the market. It's a bevy of humanity. Like the pasta I sell: so many flavors. It's sunny on this break. A nice breeze. Sound of people chatting, a plane riding above me, crows flying, music faintly playing in four distant directions. Someone yelling "go to the noodle stand" gets me excited to meet them. The smell of ash, cigarettes, dingy, old but not sad. Weathered, used, antiqued.
Pike Place reflections 1
And the newcomer shows up and writes poetry about it. But that's exactly right, isn't it? Don't we always wish we could live in the first moment of things? That moment of first, blissful, mysterious arrival where everything is new and nothing is common?
In that vein, I write and offer up my observations, however random or clear about the pike place market...as a newcomer to the city of seattle and as a newcomer as an employee at one of the places where we yell and sell things at you. It's fun.
Here we are.
The smell of flowers molds into a confused smell that is both rank and curious. Walking along the market's edge, I enter one of the many fish market's next to the flowers: this is that odd combination of a smell that excites and repulses all at once.
The eclectic smattering of people never ceases to amaze me. Australians, Alaskans, Bulgarians, Japanese, and the people who don't understand enough English to understand the question: "where are you from?" What must their experience of this place or, any place in the states for that matter, be like?what do they see and how do they experience it?
Is this place just a mall that goes by a different name that is in a unique place? So instead of "Springfield mall" it's the beautifully alliterated "pike place market." It's consumerism all the same but if pike place is a mall then it makes me a lot less angry than normal malls. I attest that there is something magical about this place. Something in the air, for sure. A blind man would have a jubilant time in pike place because the smells alone would send him burrowing through different continents and traversing different areas of the world by only taking three steps to his left and taking a deep breath in.
Time to clock back in. More on the regulars next time.
In that vein, I write and offer up my observations, however random or clear about the pike place market...as a newcomer to the city of seattle and as a newcomer as an employee at one of the places where we yell and sell things at you. It's fun.
Here we are.
The smell of flowers molds into a confused smell that is both rank and curious. Walking along the market's edge, I enter one of the many fish market's next to the flowers: this is that odd combination of a smell that excites and repulses all at once.
The eclectic smattering of people never ceases to amaze me. Australians, Alaskans, Bulgarians, Japanese, and the people who don't understand enough English to understand the question: "where are you from?" What must their experience of this place or, any place in the states for that matter, be like?what do they see and how do they experience it?
Is this place just a mall that goes by a different name that is in a unique place? So instead of "Springfield mall" it's the beautifully alliterated "pike place market." It's consumerism all the same but if pike place is a mall then it makes me a lot less angry than normal malls. I attest that there is something magical about this place. Something in the air, for sure. A blind man would have a jubilant time in pike place because the smells alone would send him burrowing through different continents and traversing different areas of the world by only taking three steps to his left and taking a deep breath in.
Time to clock back in. More on the regulars next time.
Pike place reflections...
$10 bills are the most popular...or the least available. In short, we never have them. I see "Texas ranger's" hats..mariners must be playing em.
A couple from Texas told me they were on a tour of all 30 ball parks in the US. More and more I get in conversations with the customers. So many interesting people doing so many cool things though sometimes they don't think so but that's just because they are around themselves all the time. You can't escape yourself. I haven't decided if that's a good or a bad thing. Possibly, there is a third, undiscovered option.
Had a kebab for lunch. Pretty tasty.
A couple from Texas told me they were on a tour of all 30 ball parks in the US. More and more I get in conversations with the customers. So many interesting people doing so many cool things though sometimes they don't think so but that's just because they are around themselves all the time. You can't escape yourself. I haven't decided if that's a good or a bad thing. Possibly, there is a third, undiscovered option.
Had a kebab for lunch. Pretty tasty.
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
Rest: a prayer for sleep
With these jumbled thoughts falling down to sleep, may the un-answered and un-unswerable questions of an ever-racing mind lay to rest with the rest.
May the questions be answered in the night and be awoken to fresh insight!
May the questions be answered in the night and be awoken to fresh insight!
Friday, April 12, 2013
Superfluous explanations
Some of the posts I post simply because I just want to remain active in my blogging and my readership (of 3 to 4 people). So I post for the sake of posting. I'm not going to do that anymore. It's a waste of time to have a post with no substance in it. Once I have something to say, I will say it. I'm not going to pressure myself to try and post everyday but I will post every Sunday. I know you'll be waiting with bated breath.
Modern self-reliance: the rap
Your phone is self-reliant
So you don't have to be
Livin' thru the lens of yr frivolous technology
Take a second-go-study yr mythology
Cos it doesn't seem like you know who you wanna be
You are Sisyphus
I am the sun to yr Icarus
Medusa can't handle this cos I be so cantankerous
Yo.
So you don't have to be
Livin' thru the lens of yr frivolous technology
Take a second-go-study yr mythology
Cos it doesn't seem like you know who you wanna be
You are Sisyphus
I am the sun to yr Icarus
Medusa can't handle this cos I be so cantankerous
Yo.
What are you?
You are what you eat.
Nay.
You are what you READ.
"Tell me what you pay attention to and I will tell you who you are." - Ortega y Gasset
(Look how smart I am...I'm quote a PHILOSOPHER...ooh!!)
Nay.
You are what you READ.
"Tell me what you pay attention to and I will tell you who you are." - Ortega y Gasset
(Look how smart I am...I'm quote a PHILOSOPHER...ooh!!)
Saturday, March 16, 2013
Poem 2
A poem is observing what is around you and phrasing it in a cool, simple way.
Irish decorations...everywhere.
Irish decorations...everywhere.
Wants con't...
A: Well...what do you want?
B: I have no idea but its not here. It never seems to be anywhere that I am. It's like my heart is 50 miles ahead of me in a car and I'm running as fast as I can in the direction I think my heart-car is.
A: (solemn, thinking what he is saying is profound)...Maybe its time to sit still for a while and realize your heart is inside your body...
B: .... .... ....Yes, indeed. And thank you for being so literal. You obviously don't jive with Thoreau or any of those fellas, eh? Okay. How about physics: Newton: An object in motion tends to stay in motion. In short, keep moving, stay living. Ya? Time to move.
B: I have no idea but its not here. It never seems to be anywhere that I am. It's like my heart is 50 miles ahead of me in a car and I'm running as fast as I can in the direction I think my heart-car is.
A: (solemn, thinking what he is saying is profound)...Maybe its time to sit still for a while and realize your heart is inside your body...
B: .... .... ....Yes, indeed. And thank you for being so literal. You obviously don't jive with Thoreau or any of those fellas, eh? Okay. How about physics: Newton: An object in motion tends to stay in motion. In short, keep moving, stay living. Ya? Time to move.
Friday, March 8, 2013
This
Post is for the three people who actually read this blog. I haven't been posting, as you can tell. I've been busy with the production of a play. That is over now. Expect more from me. Good stuff to come. Lots of stories and poems in the making. Look out. Have a great damn day.
Cheers,
Riley Shanahan
Cheers,
Riley Shanahan
The quesadilla poem
When all Henry ate were quesadillas, it was difficult to become excited about eating another quesadilla.
But it is never the same quesadilla.
Just like every day is not the same as the last. There is a new world in each quesadilla. And there's always subtle variation:
Type of cheese (pepper jack, mozzarella, etc)
Consistency of meltage
Crispness to burn ratio
It's never the same quesadilla.
It is always a new quesadilla.
It's just hard to tell sometimes.
Henry also likes to eat pasta. Sometimes he cooks creatively but often lacks the time. So he finds the beauty in the ordinary, the obvious sublime.
But it is never the same quesadilla.
Just like every day is not the same as the last. There is a new world in each quesadilla. And there's always subtle variation:
Type of cheese (pepper jack, mozzarella, etc)
Consistency of meltage
Crispness to burn ratio
It's never the same quesadilla.
It is always a new quesadilla.
It's just hard to tell sometimes.
Henry also likes to eat pasta. Sometimes he cooks creatively but often lacks the time. So he finds the beauty in the ordinary, the obvious sublime.
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Sketch of Sound:
Observations from a lonely studio apartment:
The tip-tapping of the floor-heater.
The audio silently spewing grey noises.
The tick of a green wrist-watch.
The anxiety of a zooming-by car.
The sound of upstairs neighbors pound away at something.
The sound of this red pen cautiously gallivanting across the page, its stage.
Offering nothing of profundity or attempted or veiled profundity.
Merely the musings of an insomnia induced student on a Tuesday.
Happy Lent.
The tip-tapping of the floor-heater.
The audio silently spewing grey noises.
The tick of a green wrist-watch.
The anxiety of a zooming-by car.
The sound of upstairs neighbors pound away at something.
The sound of this red pen cautiously gallivanting across the page, its stage.
Offering nothing of profundity or attempted or veiled profundity.
Merely the musings of an insomnia induced student on a Tuesday.
Happy Lent.
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Coffee, a play
[a coffee-house]
A: [laughing] Ah yes, 'Brevity is the soul of whit.' Shakespeare, right? ...Or was it Shaw...?
B: Who cares? ...Do you have any original thoughts of your own or do you just like to quote other people all the time?
A: [polite] Oh...uhm...no. it's not that. I just think...that...[the thought is finally fully formed] someone has usually said what you are trying to say and better than how you're saying it, is all.
B: Okay. You know what I think? [A shakes head "no"] I don't think your confident enough to take the concepts of these people--Shakespeare, Shaw, Voltaire, Mamet--into your own words therefore being much less responsible for what you have to say because you are using the quote as a shield to block yourself. You're hiding, cowering behind these quotes of these cool people because you are so frightened that someone may find out, what? You're not as smart as everyone may think you are? All that is bullshit, man! You are that smart. Trust yourself, baby!
[a line has formed behind B]
A: .... ... ... ...uhm...did you say you wanted room for cream in that venti coffee...?
A: [laughing] Ah yes, 'Brevity is the soul of whit.' Shakespeare, right? ...Or was it Shaw...?
B: Who cares? ...Do you have any original thoughts of your own or do you just like to quote other people all the time?
A: [polite] Oh...uhm...no. it's not that. I just think...that...[the thought is finally fully formed] someone has usually said what you are trying to say and better than how you're saying it, is all.
B: Okay. You know what I think? [A shakes head "no"] I don't think your confident enough to take the concepts of these people--Shakespeare, Shaw, Voltaire, Mamet--into your own words therefore being much less responsible for what you have to say because you are using the quote as a shield to block yourself. You're hiding, cowering behind these quotes of these cool people because you are so frightened that someone may find out, what? You're not as smart as everyone may think you are? All that is bullshit, man! You are that smart. Trust yourself, baby!
[a line has formed behind B]
A: .... ... ... ...uhm...did you say you wanted room for cream in that venti coffee...?
PS- weed wins, a play
A: Argh! I don't have any money for groceries!!!!
B: [disregarding what was said] Yo- did you buy a dub-sack earlier? I need to toke. Super stressed.
A: Of course dude. I've always got some.
[smokes the joint after rolling it...time passes...they get the munchies and realize there are no groceries in the pantry...the dialogue repeats.]
B: [disregarding what was said] Yo- did you buy a dub-sack earlier? I need to toke. Super stressed.
A: Of course dude. I've always got some.
[smokes the joint after rolling it...time passes...they get the munchies and realize there are no groceries in the pantry...the dialogue repeats.]
Artists, a play
[Characters A, B, C walking]
A: Because of my training as an actor, I could probably look at someone for ten seconds and know them better than they know themselves...
B: Ya. I totally agree. (takes a drag from cig; next line said pompously but honest) People just don't see the world the way we see it...
C: [a healthy pause]...Wait. No...no. Artists aren't better humans. We are a part of life. Just like the baker. We must eat. We must see theater. In no way are we better.
B: ...Sure but artists show people how to see differently and help to change perspectives, even for a second so therefore we need to have a heightened awareness of ourselves and of the world.
C: Fine. Just don't be a pompous ass about it. We are special insofar as everyone in the world is special, unique and blah-de-fucking-da. We aren't better humans. Do your job. Don't be haughty.
[C exists triumphantly...A & B stand idle, smoking, confused.]
A: Because of my training as an actor, I could probably look at someone for ten seconds and know them better than they know themselves...
B: Ya. I totally agree. (takes a drag from cig; next line said pompously but honest) People just don't see the world the way we see it...
C: [a healthy pause]...Wait. No...no. Artists aren't better humans. We are a part of life. Just like the baker. We must eat. We must see theater. In no way are we better.
B: ...Sure but artists show people how to see differently and help to change perspectives, even for a second so therefore we need to have a heightened awareness of ourselves and of the world.
C: Fine. Just don't be a pompous ass about it. We are special insofar as everyone in the world is special, unique and blah-de-fucking-da. We aren't better humans. Do your job. Don't be haughty.
[C exists triumphantly...A & B stand idle, smoking, confused.]
Monday, January 28, 2013
excrement.
Don't you get tired of people giving you answers to life in the form of "oh that's just how it is" or "oh that's life"?
Because those statements are complete bullshit that mean absolutely nothing.
Things are the way they are because we make them that way.
Life is the way it is because we make it so.
Life is life because we call it life.
I am even tired of myself that I am still talking about this. I fell like Holden Caulfield because too much of what we do is just complete bullshit. We're all phonies.
I talk like this to people I care about trying to reach some pseudo, half-way satisfying conclusion to all this nonsense and it always seems like they are trying to talk me off a ledge, like I am committing some sort of suicide by having these thoughts of revolt and following through with them.
But that's the whole damn point-- these thoughts and actions of revolt are the very things that keep me from committing actual suicide and these are the very things that make me original. Why would I water that down? And I say 'suicide' and everybody jumps outta their seats and calls a hotline. Don't do that for me. This is where I go mad: we are saying the same thing, we have the same general hopes and dreams with our lives (fail less; do cool things more). We're just talking about 2 different ways to get there, is all. Both options can be brilliant! It depends on a person's perspective.
But this is totally where I lose my marbles because I have not found a way of explaining this point in conversation. I lose myself and become mad and depressed thinking that all of the people telling me the same damn thing of "oh that's just life"..."that's just the way it is" are right.
They are not. They are wrong.
And what the fuck? Every beautiful thing or movement was created out of some kind of rage--that is how we get work done because there is something wrong with the current system that needs fixing.
Yes, there is something wrong with the current system and it must be fixed or annihilated entirely. Explode the status quo with the last of our atom bombs, we'd get rid of two problems at once.
And don't tell me to calm down.
David Mitchel wrote: "revolutions are the sheerest fantasy until they happen, then they become historical inevitability."
_________________
And we watch these movies like Les Mis and we say "oh that's nice." But we don't internalize the meaning. Is it not the point of art but to elicit a response that demands action? Not mere contemplation or a case of the cutes ("oh, that was cute"). That is shallow and worthless. Gah! It's so obnoxious.
We watch movies and we have this odd, morose jealousy of the characters thinking: "Ah...my life could never be that magical..."
What?
WHAT?!?
THAT'S THE WHOLE DAMN POINT!
THOSE CHARACTERS DON'T EXIST.
YOU EXIST AND YOU ARE ALLOWED TO ACT.
YOUR LIFE IS THAT MAGICAL
COOL
FUNNY
INTERESTING
ET-fuckin'-CETERA
You just have to train your eye to see all the cool shit in it. And you don't do this by going to school and having some learned professor tell you how to think and to feel--no. You can only find it on your own. There is no test to pass. No hurdles to jump through. Just yourself. Nobody sees the world the way you see it. And what you see in your individual world is fucking marvelous--it is. We (myself included) need to pay more attention to what is directly in front of our faces for therein lies our answer.
And I'm not trying to sit up here behind my computer and say I'm Ghandi or Steve Jobs or anything because shit, they had problems too and they were not gods but we treat them that way. They simply saw a problem that needed fixing and fixed it. They were humans who accomplished amazing things simply because they broke down the walls of the norm, of the status quo. Simply by doing that alone, they had an opportunity to see the world like nobody else, they indulged their phenomenology. If the rest of us followed suit with some bravery, the world would be more inviting, inventive, and inclusive. There is only a "way" of doing things because we say that there is.
What if there is something inherently in you that needs to be created but it is being thwarted by the fact that you don't have time to think or to feel your own thoughts or emotions because you are constantly doing someone else's work? What if you simply needed the time to create what is naturally in you? Taking that time, of course, means being brave (or stupid...you decide) enough to leave your comfortable job or your safe schooling and discover what is in you that must be a part of the world. What MUST you do? What MUST you create?
Live the life in which you've imagined and don't listen to the haters or critics because those are the same people who tried exactly what you are doing now and gave up and succumed to bullshit words like:
supposed to
should
would
only if
Fuck that nonsense. Throw it out the goddamn window of your soul, into yr lower intestine and let it be digested until it reverts to its original state:
excrement.
Because those statements are complete bullshit that mean absolutely nothing.
Things are the way they are because we make them that way.
Life is the way it is because we make it so.
Life is life because we call it life.
I am even tired of myself that I am still talking about this. I fell like Holden Caulfield because too much of what we do is just complete bullshit. We're all phonies.
I talk like this to people I care about trying to reach some pseudo, half-way satisfying conclusion to all this nonsense and it always seems like they are trying to talk me off a ledge, like I am committing some sort of suicide by having these thoughts of revolt and following through with them.
But that's the whole damn point-- these thoughts and actions of revolt are the very things that keep me from committing actual suicide and these are the very things that make me original. Why would I water that down? And I say 'suicide' and everybody jumps outta their seats and calls a hotline. Don't do that for me. This is where I go mad: we are saying the same thing, we have the same general hopes and dreams with our lives (fail less; do cool things more). We're just talking about 2 different ways to get there, is all. Both options can be brilliant! It depends on a person's perspective.
But this is totally where I lose my marbles because I have not found a way of explaining this point in conversation. I lose myself and become mad and depressed thinking that all of the people telling me the same damn thing of "oh that's just life"..."that's just the way it is" are right.
They are not. They are wrong.
And what the fuck? Every beautiful thing or movement was created out of some kind of rage--that is how we get work done because there is something wrong with the current system that needs fixing.
Yes, there is something wrong with the current system and it must be fixed or annihilated entirely. Explode the status quo with the last of our atom bombs, we'd get rid of two problems at once.
And don't tell me to calm down.
David Mitchel wrote: "revolutions are the sheerest fantasy until they happen, then they become historical inevitability."
_________________
And we watch these movies like Les Mis and we say "oh that's nice." But we don't internalize the meaning. Is it not the point of art but to elicit a response that demands action? Not mere contemplation or a case of the cutes ("oh, that was cute"). That is shallow and worthless. Gah! It's so obnoxious.
We watch movies and we have this odd, morose jealousy of the characters thinking: "Ah...my life could never be that magical..."
What?
WHAT?!?
THAT'S THE WHOLE DAMN POINT!
THOSE CHARACTERS DON'T EXIST.
YOU EXIST AND YOU ARE ALLOWED TO ACT.
YOUR LIFE IS THAT MAGICAL
COOL
FUNNY
INTERESTING
ET-fuckin'-CETERA
You just have to train your eye to see all the cool shit in it. And you don't do this by going to school and having some learned professor tell you how to think and to feel--no. You can only find it on your own. There is no test to pass. No hurdles to jump through. Just yourself. Nobody sees the world the way you see it. And what you see in your individual world is fucking marvelous--it is. We (myself included) need to pay more attention to what is directly in front of our faces for therein lies our answer.
And I'm not trying to sit up here behind my computer and say I'm Ghandi or Steve Jobs or anything because shit, they had problems too and they were not gods but we treat them that way. They simply saw a problem that needed fixing and fixed it. They were humans who accomplished amazing things simply because they broke down the walls of the norm, of the status quo. Simply by doing that alone, they had an opportunity to see the world like nobody else, they indulged their phenomenology. If the rest of us followed suit with some bravery, the world would be more inviting, inventive, and inclusive. There is only a "way" of doing things because we say that there is.
What if there is something inherently in you that needs to be created but it is being thwarted by the fact that you don't have time to think or to feel your own thoughts or emotions because you are constantly doing someone else's work? What if you simply needed the time to create what is naturally in you? Taking that time, of course, means being brave (or stupid...you decide) enough to leave your comfortable job or your safe schooling and discover what is in you that must be a part of the world. What MUST you do? What MUST you create?
Live the life in which you've imagined and don't listen to the haters or critics because those are the same people who tried exactly what you are doing now and gave up and succumed to bullshit words like:
supposed to
should
would
only if
Fuck that nonsense. Throw it out the goddamn window of your soul, into yr lower intestine and let it be digested until it reverts to its original state:
excrement.
Saturday, January 26, 2013
Thursday, January 24, 2013
SNOOZE
Why is the 'snooze' button the largest?
Because people like to sleep in.
Why do people like to sleep in?
Because they like to dream.
Why do people like to dream?
Because it is magnificent.
Why do we hit the 'snooze' so often?
Because we'd rather be dreaming.
Why would we rather be dreaming?
Because our dreams are more interesting than our reality.
Why are our dreams more interesting than reality?
Because we lack courage to be brilliant.
Be brilliant. No excuses. Permanently break the 'snooze' button.
Because people like to sleep in.
Why do people like to sleep in?
Because they like to dream.
Why do people like to dream?
Because it is magnificent.
Why do we hit the 'snooze' so often?
Because we'd rather be dreaming.
Why would we rather be dreaming?
Because our dreams are more interesting than our reality.
Why are our dreams more interesting than reality?
Because we lack courage to be brilliant.
Be brilliant. No excuses. Permanently break the 'snooze' button.
kerfuffle
I hope you seize the day today because ifjgoihadoifghadfoijagfojafdfg5ads
Whoa. I tripped over my computer...sorry. What was I saying???
Oh ya- have a nice day.
Whoa. I tripped over my computer...sorry. What was I saying???
Oh ya- have a nice day.
Tom Cruise Play:
TIME- the present.
PLACE- a theater.
Tom Cruise (played by an actor in a leather jacket, tight-fitting pants, and wearing a name tag that says "Hello! I'm Tom Cruise" on his left chesticle) is center stage.
TOM: (blandly) I'm Tom Cruise.
He then runs to stage left, there is an explosion so he runs to stage right, there is an explosion so he runs to stage left.
This repeats until people leave the theater.
PLACE- a theater.
Tom Cruise (played by an actor in a leather jacket, tight-fitting pants, and wearing a name tag that says "Hello! I'm Tom Cruise" on his left chesticle) is center stage.
TOM: (blandly) I'm Tom Cruise.
He then runs to stage left, there is an explosion so he runs to stage right, there is an explosion so he runs to stage left.
This repeats until people leave the theater.
Monday, January 21, 2013
Today
can be the next best day of your life, if you let it. You have the power to make someone's day or break someone's day. You also have the ability to remain completely neutral, hiding in the shadows but that sounds awfully boring. What will you choose!!!!!!!
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Quote for the year:
"Everything can be taken from a man but one thing, to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's way."
-Frankl, Mans Search for Meaning
-Frankl, Mans Search for Meaning
Saturday, January 12, 2013
Loud desperation.
"Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.”
―from Civil Disobedience by Henry David Thoreau
The converse: live a life of loud, passionate desperation...fumbling around in the dark, singing like a fool, looking for someone to love. Not finding shame in any of your joys. Yes.
―from Civil Disobedience by Henry David Thoreau
The converse: live a life of loud, passionate desperation...fumbling around in the dark, singing like a fool, looking for someone to love. Not finding shame in any of your joys. Yes.
Friday, January 11, 2013
So then:
Are all my writings here worthless?
Perhaps, perhaps not.
What's cool about Voltaire (see last post) is that he doesn't have to be right. He's just providing his perspective, same as me.
I operate on this blog like I perform in a play: if I have helped, positively effected, or provided insightful thought to even ONE person, then I am doing my job. In short, if one person still likes this blog, I will keep doing it for you.
Perhaps, perhaps not.
What's cool about Voltaire (see last post) is that he doesn't have to be right. He's just providing his perspective, same as me.
I operate on this blog like I perform in a play: if I have helped, positively effected, or provided insightful thought to even ONE person, then I am doing my job. In short, if one person still likes this blog, I will keep doing it for you.
"Yes"
During this time last year, my family and I took a trip to San Francisco, "the city," as I have known it from growing up in Sacramento, the lesser-known capital of the golden state. We walked the Golden Gate Bridge after a walk through presidio park. We successfully made it to the other side of the bridge, dodging international bikers and wandering tourists with nowhere to be but there. We waved to Sausalito, took a few pictures, slapped the end of the giant bridge with our hands, turned around and walked back, awe-ing the fact that we were at the edge of a continent.
While observing the dolphins and gigantic freighter ships passing under us, I walked next to a little alcove, nook-like thing that had been imbedded in the middle of the bridge for sight-seeing. A couple was standing, observing. I took my next step at the exact same moment that the man in the alcove dropped to his knee, pulled out a ring and asked this lovely woman to marry him. She said "yes" with a screech of pure joy.
I was the asshole in the back clapping, yelling "congratulations" like a baboon for this couple I had never known existed before that moment. Yup. That's all.
While observing the dolphins and gigantic freighter ships passing under us, I walked next to a little alcove, nook-like thing that had been imbedded in the middle of the bridge for sight-seeing. A couple was standing, observing. I took my next step at the exact same moment that the man in the alcove dropped to his knee, pulled out a ring and asked this lovely woman to marry him. She said "yes" with a screech of pure joy.
I was the asshole in the back clapping, yelling "congratulations" like a baboon for this couple I had never known existed before that moment. Yup. That's all.
Voltaire & Ideas
One of my favorite quotes is Voltaire:
"A witty saying proves nothing."
Ironic & paradoxical because the phrase alone proves its worthlessness thus proving the point thus proving its worthlessness and etc (this is an infinite sentence).
What is the value in quotations and quoting things all the time, which I am guilty of doing?
Are our ideas not good enough? Has everything been said and better than you?
Why do we read entire books if the single thing we take away from it is one simple idea? Why not just read about the one idea or the one quote (therefore less work, higher pay-off) that gives the whole endeavor of reading purpose?
OK.
What is the best way to spread ideas right now, January of 2013 in the world? Is it: Blog? Text? Book (which is still a technology)? Tumblr? Facebook? Twitter? Do people still do pamphlets like Thomas Paine? TV? Commercials?
If "a witty saying proves nothing," how then do we prove our ideas?
"A witty saying proves nothing."
Ironic & paradoxical because the phrase alone proves its worthlessness thus proving the point thus proving its worthlessness and etc (this is an infinite sentence).
What is the value in quotations and quoting things all the time, which I am guilty of doing?
Are our ideas not good enough? Has everything been said and better than you?
Why do we read entire books if the single thing we take away from it is one simple idea? Why not just read about the one idea or the one quote (therefore less work, higher pay-off) that gives the whole endeavor of reading purpose?
OK.
What is the best way to spread ideas right now, January of 2013 in the world? Is it: Blog? Text? Book (which is still a technology)? Tumblr? Facebook? Twitter? Do people still do pamphlets like Thomas Paine? TV? Commercials?
If "a witty saying proves nothing," how then do we prove our ideas?
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
War.
The world has literally never existed without it....
So being a so-called pacifist is all good and well and honorable but is it, ultimately, a waste of time?
"Dost thou love life? Then don't squander time for that's the stuff life is made of."
-Ben Franklin, from Poor Richards Almanac
Food for thought.
So being a so-called pacifist is all good and well and honorable but is it, ultimately, a waste of time?
"Dost thou love life? Then don't squander time for that's the stuff life is made of."
-Ben Franklin, from Poor Richards Almanac
Food for thought.
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Chivalry is dead
and rightfully so. A concept created in the 14th century to delineate a type of French knight should very well be dead because we live in the 21st century. If we, as a free country, live up to our words of wanting equality for all demographics, then chivalry must die because the concept intrinsically implies the old world model of a female not being strong enough to open a door (or something) so a big, kind man needs to open it for her. Doors are not heavy and I am not a door-man at the Hilton. I am a guest, just like you. If the door is in front of me and you are close enough behind me (female or male--it doesn't matter) then I will hold the door open for you. Do not confuse this death of chivalry for lack of good will or general
courtesy for others. I am not saying we should act terrible to each
other. Just don't be intentionally rude, open the door if its convenient, and commit random acts of kindness if you feel like it.
Chivalry must die if we truly want the societal equality we express.
Chivalry must die if we truly want the societal equality we express.
Passion.
The adage "never let passion get in the way of principle" is bullshit.
If you truly have the passion, you will learn the principle.
If you truly have the passion, you will learn the principle.
'Redefine' is a word.
Use it more. For hundreds of years, there were ways to build buildings but then Frank Gehry comes along and redefines architecture and what we think of it. The same thing must happen with educations and lives: redefine. There is no way to build a life. Yes, there are prescribed paths of college, grad school specialization, job, wife, kids. This is one way to live a life and it is honorable but there are millions of ways to get to where you want to end up. Find them and create more.
In conversation, we always condone "the road less traveled" and say how brave we would act if we encountered a difficult decision full of adversity. And, of course, when talking hypothetically, there is nothing at risk, therefore we always talk of ourselves in our ideal state of how we wish we were: brave, confident, loving. But when it is time for action do we actually pick the safe route that has the footprints, guideposts, and water breaks along the way, despite all our previous thoughts and beliefs? Why? What's stopping us?
Redefine what a road is.
Go.
"We are at our best when we are at our boldest."- Tony Blair
In conversation, we always condone "the road less traveled" and say how brave we would act if we encountered a difficult decision full of adversity. And, of course, when talking hypothetically, there is nothing at risk, therefore we always talk of ourselves in our ideal state of how we wish we were: brave, confident, loving. But when it is time for action do we actually pick the safe route that has the footprints, guideposts, and water breaks along the way, despite all our previous thoughts and beliefs? Why? What's stopping us?
Redefine what a road is.
Go.
"We are at our best when we are at our boldest."- Tony Blair
2013: Still here.
Whoa. The world didn't end. Well of course it didn't end! Humanity's favorite pastime is predicting the end of the world. After Y2k, we're still here. After the 1770s when the colonists of North America thought the Aurora Borealis was deadly and a sign of THE END...It wasn't. We're still here.
This predicting business does one cool thing (plus a hundred really, really Lame things): the urgency of life. The idea that life only exists right here, on earth, and not for long. Live, yo.
This predicting business does one cool thing (plus a hundred really, really Lame things): the urgency of life. The idea that life only exists right here, on earth, and not for long. Live, yo.
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