Halloween has been one of my favorite holidays. Did you know that it was the Irish that were primarily responsible for importing All Hallows Eve? We're all just pagans at heart, I feel, waiting for a chance to bark at the moon or some crazy shit. It's healthy, and, yes, I know that pagan's don't bark at the moon. Ed Gein would put on his best skin suit and dance in the moonlight, banging pots and howling. That's taking things a bit too far. Well, what do you expect when your mother tells you that all women are evil? Remember kiddies: syphilis, gonorrhea, and unwanted children are the wages of sin!
In other news, I have been feeling somewhat better. So many times I let myself get out of control with confronting my failings and imperfections. I do it to the point where I just don't feel right about anything at all. Sometimes it works: I get the kick in the ass that I need to change or do what needs to be done. Other times it doesn't: I really feel like a square peg crammed into a fat man's ass. Bad analogy...anal...ogy. Heh. Anyhooter, I've got to just do something different with my life instead of cursing myself for being fallible and for getting older.
It was my late sister, Bonnie's, birthday today, which made Halloween a bit more of a reverent occasion. Yeah, even on the Saturday that most kids went out, but wasn't the official day--it still reminded me of her. What I did this evening was to take my fat body on a hike up a local canyon and sit on a rock ledge for a dose of meditation. It got me thinking about the afterlife. We've all got our own ideas and beliefs about what goes on in the hereafter, but how can one really know? I think the best one can do is come to a relative conclusion based on faith, or lack thereof. The evidence in the cold, hard world would hit a dead end right after the last breath.
I have considered this at times, despite my beliefs in "cake and ice cream heaven". I guess if that were the case, then love and kindness is all the more important right now. You can't get away from the greatest commandment. Hell can reach you anywhere, while getting you nowhere at all. I've let my loss of my sister affect my state of being. This is natural, but I need to really think about what the rest of my life should be like without her around, rather than let it all unravel. I'm a lot like her in some ways and I get worried that I will self destruct as well, given the right circumstances.
I have to remember something, that I am capable of feeling great love for myself and others. This was evident in my last cancer exam that I went to earlier this month. When my oncologist and her nurse came into the room to see me and give me my report, I felt like I had done good. You could see how much happiness it gives them to have a patient do well. Really, the love that I feel for my doctors and the care that I feel from them has been one of the highest levels of love that I have ever felt. They saved my bacon. That is some serious shit. I have to remember those moments to know that my life can be about positive things and not just be a string of tragedies, depression, and loneliness. I just wish I could have realized all of this when I was young and pretty. It's a bit hard to carry out new plans when you are not a spring chicken anymore. But, hey, you know that I thrive on these kinds of odds, right? I think I shall start by doing some writing and recording again. I haven't done that in a long time. It's a start.
What did the astronaut say to his girlfriend? I just need some space.
A sheriff tells the outlaw, who's waiting at the gallows for a pardon, that he hadn't heard whether or not he would he would be hung. The outlaw replies, "Well, no noose is good news."
This guy goes to see his doctor. He says, "Doctor! Doctor! I think I'm invisible!" The doctor shouts, "What?"
I could have written many different posts right now. Hell, I could have written many posts this past while if I hadn't been in an utter fog of lost purpose and emotional sterility. This post had to be the one that came out of my mental uterus before succumbing to my regularly scheduled Netflix coma tonight. I am talking about the lack of real love compatibility with any living organism other than my own self loathing. However, my relationship with myself is bound to end in divorce the way things are going. I am the silent movie version of a drama queen. Nothing said, yet only typed in a clicking whimper. What in the hell am I talking about? How the fuck should I know? I only live here too. I think the worst of it is that I am the problem: a 120V plugged into 220V. The iron has caught on fire and is burning the house down. If I could just get my own personal converter, I think I could stop this and it would be safe for someone else to take residence inside me.
This is the part where I write something to make it all better, and it might be. This just needed letting out tonight. Read with care. I appreciate my friends who have stuck with me through my journey so far.
This video was taken last week. I happened to be up Big Cottonwood canyon, home of Brighton and Solitude ski resorts and decided to take a shortish hike up to this place, Donut Falls. It was a bit slick climbing up to the actual donut part of the falls and my hiking boots are worn out, especially the tread. So, I had a couple of fun experiences climbing up, finding out that it was time for new boots...and panties! Five points to whomever spots the Ian Dury reference in this post.
Yes, it's been a very long time since I've done one of these. So, Jan Terri, she's one part Dr. Ruth, one part Estelle Costanza, with Whitney Houston aspirations. Yes, it's bad. Yes, it's funny. But damn, iffin it ain't catchy. She inspires me to make music, bad music.
This is the reason everything hurts recently. Feckin' rocks. Let this be a lesson to watch where you are going, or else you too may have an effed up knee, arm, and left hand. Nothing serious. It just hurts like the dickens. Enjoy!
It hasn't been quite a year since my sister Bonnie's death but the anniversary of certain events that led up to that untimely and tragic event have come and gone. I've had some dreams lately about my sis. The one I had recently was pretty awful to wake up from because in the dream I was experiencing an extreme joy of having found her alive. By whatever miracle that dream logic follows, my sister was there waiting for me. Somehow, in the dream, she had got lost and forgot who she was, finally remembered who she was and we found each other. I can't describe the joy that I felt. It was like something removed me right out of this miserable husk that I've been enduring ever since.
Who I am has changed. I don't know what I am anymore. I came across an old picture of my sisters surrounding me right before I was to set off for my mission to England. Bonnie was behind me on my left side caressing me. A lot of my faith came from looking at her and the way she looked at me in return. That caress and others like it were the things that kept me going. It just goes to show you how bad addiction can be that those moments a year ago between us weren't enough to turn things around. The terror in her eyes from those helpless moments is ever present in my memory. I was fool enough to want something or someone to stop it all and relieve Bonnie, my family and I of the responsibility. Someone did, but not in the way that I had wanted. I wonder if it was what she wanted.
It has been almost four years since I've written any songs. I was beginning to think that music was over for me and that dealing with the equipment end of things was my consolation prize for giving it a shot and realizing that it was all just good fun. I broke that spell this weekend. I wrote a song for my sister and sung it to her--I felt that she heard. It just about damn near killed me to actually do it and I don't think that I would ever have it in me to ever share it with anyone else. Something so personal reaches such a sacred level that it is only meant to exist in the temple of the moment.
Just in case anybody was worried that I am a misogynist, well, towards female produce stand merchants, I will tell you what really happened. I passed by a corn stand everyday going to work this summer. It didn't matter who passed the stand, when this one girl was working it, she would try and wave at anybody and anything. She also did the hula a few times, of which I thought was funny. I would sometimes go to the stand just to see what was selling and did get samples.
This girl was nice and I did have a big BBQ that I had to get stuff for (I was part of the planning committee). So I figured that I would have a great source for all of my corn needs in this particular stand, not to mention "Fresh Corn" Girl.
The day came that I needed to buy my seven dozen ears of corn. I headed down to the stand and they weren't open. I really didn't have time to dick around waiting for them to show up. There was another stand in the town just south of where I was and headed down that way. The girl there was low key, but cute and helpful--very young, though. I got my corn cheaper by a dollar a dozen less. It was really good and sweet corn as well--a big hit at the BBQ.
The next time I saw Fresh Corn Girl, I decided to tease her a bit and told her that all of her waving at me was wasted and that I bought my corn somewhere else. She actually got a bit mad at me. I told her that I felt bad and that I would buy some melons later. Well, the joke was on me: the stand closed two days later and I never got to have Fresh Corn Girl melons. Damn, now who's gonna shuck with me?
I hate to tell you this, but all of your waving at me over the summer was all for naught. I ended up buying my corn at another stand. You know, I didn't plan it, it just happened. Sorry. Thanks for the free samples of orange flesh melons, though.
So my family had a get together this weekend and my sister from Idaho was down with two of her brood. Her youngest likes her uncle Merhtiman (one of my secret names) and likes to play board games using "Emily" rules. We played "Life" and one of her rules is that you can buy people. I wasn't sure if I should tell her of the evils of slavery right then and there, but I figured that so long as the people she bought just rode around in the car with her, it was all right. Her other rule was that you could crash your car into stuff, so long as you had auto insurance. We did bury the dead, just in case you were wondering. I suggested that the dead could come back as zombies, but she didn't like that idea.
Our other activity was to watch QVC with the sound off and to come up with voice overs for the people selling the products. During one of the commercials a product was being advertised with this baby that had all these swirls of light and sparkly things dancing around it. She asked me what was going on and I explained that it was the baby of the future. She liked that idea and kept telling everyone about the Future Baby and what fine things its coming would bring. She then started on about the old man of the future and so on and so forth.
So, after all of this fun and adventure she tells me that I remind her of this guy she knows. I'm all like, "What guy is this, then?" I'm thinking that some old dude is hanging around her. She replies, "Well, Danny is in the third grade." This relieved me and I thought that I was in for the typical "We hang out at recess and he can ride his bike real fast" kind of thing that kids think is cool. Nope. So I ask her what this Danny is like and her reply is choice, "Well, Danny is mentally retarded and has seizures and he walks like this (starts walking with a spastic limp). "So, you think that I'm a retard, huh?" She countered, "No, it's just that you kind of look like him and when you laugh it reminds me of him." I guess she sees past his disability and sees us both as human.
Well, I am sure this comes from a good place, but I honestly don't know what to do with it. I must admit that as bewildered as I am, I find this freakin' hilarious. I love my niece.
Okay, those of you that know me know that I come from a deeply religious background. I always felt off of center when it came to religion, namely, church. I have no problem with God or Jesus. I have some problems with scripture. I have major problems with going to church. Oh, I'll go, but it isn't without me feeling like a cat getting a bath. Now, I've done some great things in the name of the lord. I served Him in England for a couple of years. To quote an Alice Cooper song, "I used to be such a sweet-sweet thing, until they got a hold of me. I've opened doors for little, old ladies. I've helped the blind to see." Well, the "they" is undetermined. Some would say that it is Satan, but I pretty much ignore him as I do with most people. I live a clean life and I really do feel close to God. So, why do church people think that there is still something off with me? To understand this you must know some things.
My church, The Latter Day Church of Momo, believes that there was a war in heaven prior to this existence on earth, and that if you made it to earth, then you were on the winning team. The war was Satan vs. Jesus. Satan wanted certain things which involved stripping ourselves of our free agency--we would be forced to be good-little God's children. Satan would then get all of the glory for this accomplishment. Jesus, being the older brother, was smarter and knew what side his bread got buttered and presented a plan of salvation that involved free agency. The glory would be given to God. Satan got all pissed off and got a bunch of people on his side and started shooting at us with lasers; well, lasers, and mostly persuasion to join him. Satan was able to get 1/3 of the host of heaven on his side. The other 2/3 of this host was saved and God was able to fit him with prosthetic legs. Yeah, no, well, the host was not a dude--it was God's spirit children. So, Satan's army was cast out of heaven down to earth, where he and his kind were to have a dominion of sorts and fake the fossil records in order to trick us into believing in science. What does all of this have to do with me?
Okay, first of all, I have found that Church likes to have me think that I have my free agency, but then it turns around and tells me that I have to do certain things. They seem to lack the confidence in Jesus' plan. Just tell me about it then let me decide. Don't keep coming over to my house and making me feel bad for really small stuff. This only makes me want to shoot you. Plus, if you are annoying me, church is the last place that I will want to be. Why? Because you will be there. For those of you that do know me, know that I am not a bad guy. I have been getting hounded lately for some very small stuff. When did all of this become a damned contest? Some people are church technicians. They prefer church and correlation meetings to everything else. I don't understand this at all. If heaven is as boring as church, then why would I want to go there? I just wasn't cut out for the starched life.
Well, I finally have come up with a reason for my inability to conform entirely to my church's demands: I suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from the War in Heaven. So, give me a freaking break, okay?
No, really, I need your attention. I thrive off of it. I'd make a video of me juggling if I knew how to juggle. I could throw shit at old people if you want. Suggestions?
Don't you just love those "How's My Driving? Please call: #####" bumper stickers? I love thinking of alternative versions of this sticker. How about this: "How Am I Driving?" I like this because it isn't quite clear if the person is asking how good of a job they are doing driving or if they aren't sure how exactly they are driving the actual car--it's a total mystery what is happening. The next best one would be "How Am I For Driving?" This is one that would go well on an immigrant's delivery vehicle. My favorite one is, simply, "I'm Driving?" I would really want to know what kind of conversation I'd be in for when I made that phone call.
I often wonder if ants recognize me--you know, they are all like, "Holy shit, there he is! Run!!!" I would like to think so, and not that they just run away from me because I am just another large, moving object. I would make a great ant god, me thinks.
I am not sure that one should have all their dreams come true. If I did, then I would riding a metal bucket down a steep road while dodging creepy crosswalk-sign people (the ones made out of geometric shapes). I really need to stop eating spoiled food before bedtime.
The subject matter of my last couple of posts probably kept a few of you away. Sorry.
I've been thinking about becoming an entrepreneur. One of my ideas is simply genius: Ghost massage parlors. The thing is that I really haven't decided whether the ghosts get the massages or they are the masseuse. The entertainment value of watching people massage thin air would be hilarious--kind of like a "groping" Tai chi. But then having a ghost give you a deep spiritual tissue massage would also be pretty far out, but maybe a bit too creepy for most. I think, in the end, I would only be able to offer massages by therapists wearing sheets and going "Oooooooooh" all the time. Well, come to think of it, that might actually work out.
I really haven't figured out what is so fancy about Fancy Feast. Do you really think that your cat is that hung up on aesthetics or is it just you pushing your own taste on your pet?
Here's a little song that I sing to cheer myself up at work:
Come listen to a story about a man named Jed, He woke up naked in ol' granny's bed. He went to the doctor and said, "It burns when I pee." The doc said "Son, you got the drippin' G." Gonorrhea that is, Neisseria gonorrhoeae, the clap, and shootin' gleet! Yee-haw!!!
BTW, if this clip intrigues you, then you must see the restored version of the movie that it is from, Alexandro Jordorowsky's The Holy Mountain. It is guaranteed to offend and freak you out.
This is a recent short hike that I went on. It is up a canyon directly above where I live. It takes less than five minutes to drive to the trail head and about twenty minutes of hiking to reach this place. So, this is a nice, quick trek that I do quite often and I thought it was about time to share it with you all. This particular spot also has petroglyphs on a rock wall left by the native tribes in the area before the settlers came. The figures are simple and faded, as you can see, and most likely represent the mule deer of these mountains. Also, as mentioned in one of the videos, one of my friends fell down a portion of a waterfall in this canyon. He was trying to climb up the rocks along side the waterfall and his foothold was covered in dried moss. His foot was slightly moist and the combination of the moist shoe and moss led him to slip and fall. The falls where he fell are more like a death slide than a straight drop and he was stopped when he hit some rocks. That is a much longer and better story than I have time to tell here, though.
I also fell off of one of the smaller falls above the lower, big waterfall when I was only eight years old. My brother about shit himself because he thought I was going off of the big one right after the first drop. But, I clung to some grass and dug in my heels until my brother could get a tree branch down to me and pull me out. The area is nice, but you really can't mess around too close to the creek because of the steepness of the walls. Anyway, this is just a little something for you all until I can live a more interesting life and blog about that.
I wish, just for once, my life could be like a movie of my choosing. Really, I think I would like my life to be a cross between It's a Wonderful Life and KISS Meets the Phantom of the Park. My life seems to have hit a big slump, is what I'm saying. So many extreme things have happened to me that my life has resembled a movie, I guess. But those movies suck and usually tank at the box office. Anyway, I'm having a moment of regret about parts of my life. When I do this to myself it isn't good. What purpose does this self bashing do? Maybe I like it. Yes, I'm sick like that.
Forget you read this post and go watch the smoking baby on Youtube. Toodles.
