Tuesday, November 29, 2011

A guy at work today told me I need to speak up more. I sit there like a lump, not saying a thing. I'm quiet to begin with (until I get to know ya), but this new job I'm in - I DO NOT SPEAKY THE LANGUAGE AT ALL. Servers and gadgets and apps and virtualized....thingies and seo and classes and objects and methods and parameters and blah blah blah. And it's not just the techy jargon. It's the power talk...We're gonna change the culture of this whole company maaan......and then there's the politicking and the psychoanalysisizing and the social anthropolologizing and all of it and then some. And then there's the simple fact that some people seem to wait for me to start speaking so that they can instantly talk right over me. Whatever. Let em. Let em shoot their mouths off. I don't want to be a rock star. I don't want to be a spoken word truth bomb dropper. Well maybe. Nah, not really. I don't know. I just want the paycheck, man.

It's weird to have somebody deliver such a deeply personal piece of advice like that -- at work. If I didn't love the guy, I'd have been offended. I still was a bit. But I'm generally down...lately...a bit. I got lost in the activities on Thanksgiving and got some peace from the mentals, but the whole creepin holiday season is vibin my face off. And this job is kicking my ass down the street. And the divorce crap too. And the post marriage rebound girl too.

I don't know. I don't want them to think I'm some kind of brain dead mute moron disabled dummy. Lots of work to do on ALL fronts getting myself right. Or: just focus and speak the good thoughts when they come. So many times, the following has happened: I thought of something relevant to the conversation but didn't speak up: Then, somebody else said it, and everybody was like yeah yeah right yeah true uh huh good point...

Thursday, November 24, 2011

Happy Thanksgiving!...to whomever might happen by... if ya celebrate it!

I was too worried about about work stuff to take days and days off to travel to see my sisters in other states...but...luckily a friend of mine invited me to his family's Thanksgiving throwdown. "Bring a pie," he said.

Feeling pretty good. Wow, I got on a real self-help kick there, posting all kinds of stuff about gettin my mind right and gettin my mentals right. Snappin back from collapses quickly, my friend(s)!

I need a new 'project' ...maybe I'll start back up on a previous project I let go...there are many. MANY. I have an old blog that I let go (reasons complicated). I posted on that blog for nine years off and on. I locked it down, deleted many posts, opened it back up, locked it down, deleted more...so now it's pretty lean and mean. I want to create an 'art book'...or something...an artsy/craftsy kind of book that I bind myself...I got all the writings I need. Nine years worth of wacky blog posts riveted together, industrial strength, distributed guerilla style.

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

I started scratching the following out in my little work notebook at work yesterday (I was worried somebody would walk up to me and look at what I was writing, ha):

I was born. My awareness arose. I'm here among the other humans. Other humans have created all kinds of stuff: laws, governments, technology...some of it is great, some of it sucks.

I have a right to be here, a right to be aware, and right to be joyful. No matter what the rest of the humans say or think or do. Really it's beyond 'rights.' It's beyond the concept of 'rights.'

I am simply here.

I got this far and then something came up. I yanked this out of the notebook and folded it up and stuck it in my pocket. For some 'reason.'

Proceeding from here, I might say:

Everybody else is simply here too. We all felt the need to figure out systems to bring about some kind of order. These systems are naturally flawed. (They're a goddam good try, but they're flawed.) Some of the systems have been taken beyond...or outside the boundaries of... what is reasonable or just or wise or....(words beginning to fail here)...we've built all this stuff up, but we've left behind a lot of important wisdom...forgotten it, ignored it, couldn't fit it in...couldn't fit it in because of the character that our systems were taking....or something.

The institutions and systems are games. Games are games. If you don't play the games, everybody points at you and laughs and throws dirt clogs at you...and they put really hot balm in your jock strap so that your nuts really burn when you put it on...or they come up behind you and yank your pants down.

I guess you have to play the game as best as you can (or the best you care to. But inside there's a calm 'you' that is connected to all the other confused mother huggers out there.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

I'm watching a LOT of videos from this guy Mooji. What I'm getting from him (and others) is that there's a deeper you. That deeper you is peaceful and seeing. All these problems and attachments that seem so very real -- they're invented.

The fun comes in the struggle to step out of these problems and attachments and give them the Divine Finger.

Monday, November 21, 2011


I'm trusting my 'mind' less and less so that I can trust it more and more. I'm trying to step back as many magnifications as I can...and still be close enough to able to play at this life game...I gotta play the life game some...I don't want to be sitting homeless in rags...I have to play at being 'this guy who works and knows folks and does stuff.'

If my life is a movie, though, I want to step way way back from the screen, further back than the back of the theater, back behind the projector room even...not quite out in the parking lot...maybe in the manager's office...maybe in the janitor's closet. Or something.

These negative emotions that get on me: fear, depression, anger...they're like a burning blanket I have to throw off of me. I just have to recognize them as feelings that will come and go...they'll go if I let them go.

There's an intense creativity that comes when you are really Seeing...I mean capital 'S' Seeing.

Saturday, November 19, 2011

I finally did it. I finally took Monica's shoes and threw them over a power line. As mentioned before, the shoes are of the Crocs brand. I spraypainted them gold, and I tied them together with fishing line. I drove to the bar where Monica and I met. The bar hosts a drum circle every month, and that's how we met...at one of those dopey drum circles. I did this deed during a drum circle. The fuck if I know whether she was there.

I approached the entrance to the place. I was alone (obviously). People inside the place could not see me where I was standing - but people who were coming and going, of course, could see me. I didn't feel like doing this deed with people standing around watching.

I stood around the entrance smoking cigarettes and messing with my phone. Those frickn hippie drum circle types take forever to arrive and get out of their cars...and to get back into their cars and leave...with all their stuff...and they're always forgetting stuff...coming back out to their cars, "Yo, I forgot my didgeridoo."

Finally I didn't see anybody around. I tossed them once and missed, and they came down on the hood of this car, thud. (No damage.) I tossed them again and missed again, and then I realized somebody was getting in their car, just inside the gate, and they could see me if they looked over. I was like fuck it: I'm doing this. I don't give a fuck. So, on the third try, I really focused...took my time...i did my windup, kind of swung the shoes - and I tossed them. They hit the powerline in a kind of lopsided, off center way. One shoe spun and wrapped around the power line really fast, like a fuckin lasso or like Indiana Jones' whip. It zipped right around the wire and wrapped itself tight. The other shoe hung way lower and just kind of flopped down. I heard some stuff hitting the ground. Maybe it was some hardened bird shit getting shaken of the wire, I heard it hitting the grass nearby. As soon as I saw that the shoes were up there real good, I walked off to my car, down the street. I thought I heard a raised voice yelling something behind me as I walked...I couldn't tell what or who, and I didn't turn around to look. As I was walking to my car, I could hear a car coming up from behind me, and it was slowing way down. I did not look up or over. I just looked down and kept walking to my car. I think it was one of those Pontiac Vibes. The car drove by me really slowly, they must have seen what I did, and they were checking me out real hard. I was like fuckit. Whatever. I was thinking: "What are you pricks gonna do...make a citizen's arrest? Fuck off. Drive on. Nothing to see here. Go home and finger your beads."

So there were witnesses. I think I won't being going back there for a while.

So I got in my car and backed in, turned around, drove off. I ended up behind that same friggin Pontiac Vibe. I got confused, and I just wanted to get on i4 and fuck off out of there in a hurry you know. They had to get on i4 too. I didn't want to pass them or pull up beside them so I stayed behind them. I didn't want them to see my license plate. Because really, that's one of the only ways they could identify me. I didn't recognize anybody who went in or came out of the drum circle when I was waiting around to do the thing....maybe somebody could talk to somebody else and figure out that it was that quiet dude who used to come to the drum circles who nobody even knows the name of or barely talked to or liked...or...never fit in...whatever whatever times two.

I only stayed on i4 until the next exit, and then I got off.

This is what is known as bizarre behavior. I know this. I knew it before I did it.

I ain't crazy. This was an 'art project.'

Saturday, November 5, 2011

I saw this lady walking out of work with boxes yesterday. It concerned me. Had she been let go? ...then I realized that the boxes were empty...she was walking out with empty boxes. I walked by her cubicle later, and I saw that her stuff was still there. She has all of these weird little plastic skulls in her cubicle. I was glad the skulls were still there.

She's pretty quiet at work...an oddball, some say. Some say she's downright taciturn or angry...or evil. Well, maybe they don't say that she's evil, but people's minds probably do go there and think that...given the fact that she's so quiet...and that she's got all the skulls and all in her cubicle...they probably think she's sitting in her cubicle casting spells on people between her other administrative duties.

She takes breaks at 10:00 am and 3:00 pm...and these are the same times when us smokers start to filter out and gather at the facility's designated smoking area. The plastic skull girl doesn't smoke. She just takes little walks.

By now you've probably figured out that I have a crush on her.

She's thirty. I'm forty. I've asked around, and apparently, I am the one who has talked to her the most out of anybody...with the exception of her immediate supervisor (muscle car mustang driving southern belle with sass...I'm sure their lunches together would be fascinating to witness). Plastic skull girl has long brown hair and blue eyes and she's thin. She wears glasses and normal looking clothes. Pants, never dresses.

There have been times when I have walked right by her, and I have said hello to her, and she didn't say a goddam thing...didn't even look at me.

One time I was talking to her, and I was shocked to learn how many siblings she has.

One time I walked up to her at a company ice cream social and started talking to her, and she walked away.

One time I was mindin my biz, walkin into the building after lunch, without looking up, and she called me over to a picnic table to rap with her about 'work' and 'life' stuff.

Recently, I sort of received a 'promotion,' and she came to where I was sitting and kind of paced around and looked at me and said stuff and fooled around...and then she walked off.

One time we both skipped this all-staff meeting (separately) and we ran into each other in the empty halls and we were roaming the halls (together)...we went back to her cubicle, and she gave me a couple of Jolly Ranchers.

Sometimes, she just don't want to talk to nobody. I don't know if she's got a boyfriend or if she even likes boys, our few conversations never quite reached that subject. I'm 10 years older than her.

Weird, huh? Why would I possibly be sitting here having a crush on her...and writing a blog post about her?

Because I'm stupid.