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Sunday, May 30, 2010

The Tragic Cost of Friendship




presented by Jean Lambert-wild
based on a scenario by Jean Lambert-wild and Jeremiah McDonald
Performed, directed and photographed by Jeremiah McDonald
A Comedie de Caen production


---

the Brilliant YouTube Viral Phenomena Genius Jeremiah McDonald a.k.a "Bernard Smith" a.k.a "Cornelius Blow"> the "ChurchOfBlow/YouTube Is My Life" Viral videos

Since his sponsorship by the French dramatic troupe the Comedie de Caen who discovered his genius via the web and smartly snatched him for France last year, Jeremiah's newest work can be seen at his French YouTube Channel: http://www.youtube.com/user/comediedecaen

He is performing in a few weeks in the Festival D'Avignon in Paris.


(I can't describe just how massive of an unexpected surprise/honor/happy moment this was for me when he emailed me this. It meant a lot to me. His brilliant vids have kept me in comedic euphoria since 2006!!! and then I got to know him, surreal. Also contrary to the fb plug in here we didn't "meet" thru fb, fb came later. I feel amazed, grateful and humbled to be a part of his vid. and Sad/guilty by this video! Eating your shoes instead of burgers to save our friendship! =0). tragic. hug.)

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Parallax

a Parallax, in the Mathematical definition, is an apparent displacement or difference in the apparent position of an object viewed along two different lines of sight, and is measured by the angle or semi-angle of inclination between those two lines.

Think about that deeper.

Philosophically, this applies to Every sphere of life.

There is an Apparent displacement or difference in the Apparent "position = substance" of an "object = put in x for life viewpoint of a life Function e.g Human/Non-human e.g democrat, atheist, wrong, right, beautiful, ugly", viewed along "two different lines of sight = experience and perspective", and is "measured = judgement & analysis" by the "angle = point of perspective" or semi-angle of "inclination = closer or farther away from a specific perspective".

An apple is an apple. But judging by where you come from, what your experiences are with said apple, what your tastebuds have grown to associate with "tasty", and so on, you will either find an apple delicious or disgusting. Does the Apple, by itself, Change?

No.

Only YOU do.


"you will see it is not the Spoon that bends. it is only Yourself."-The Matrix

Your Vision, of a specific thing, entity, of life, Entirely changes with new Perspective. This also correlates directly with Langan's CTMU (Cognitive Theoretic Model of the Universe): the basis of reality is not Energy, but Information. (whatever information you soak in, determines your reality. e.g why a lawyer will always argue his way of life is right and an artist will argue his way of life is right. consume the experience of a particular mindset and you become that mindset.) Life. same damn thing. same Essence. take two steps to the side, shift back 4 steps, you see something entirely different.

I wrote about this in a poem a long time ago that's in my book, without knowing what a parallax was or realizing the principle is all around us.

> love
must be a painting
who doesn’t
love a painting
painters love to paint
in different techniques
with different thoughts
and there is love
which is silent
love that screams red
a painter
loves to paint what is real
or what his reality is
there is really not a difference
as i may love a painting
and you may hate it
but you will love another painting
we will both love a painting
and so will everyone else
paint belongs to a painter
but what we see
in a painting
what we love in a painting
is a color of ourselves
and even though
the world is a rainbow
we can never all be one painting


was reading Slavoj Zizek and in his opus magnum he's obsessed with this concept of the parallax.

with my new foray into the stock market, commodities & currency exchange thanks to Alex and Larry, (Larry directly, Alex indirectly) finally the pieces are coming together. My mathematical theories can be applied directly to real world economics, and Hopefully, enough to generate substantial income so I don't have to take gigs I don't believe in for cash. we'll see...Predicting the outflow of people, how they will react, what they will do, and what this means in $$...Directly involves the Parallax principle. Based on the demographic of a trader, that trader will act corresponding to his viewpoints. Graph the pattern. Duplicate. Graph activity. Duplicate. You see enough of the rise and fall of the market and there ARE Definite patterns that emerge. Peaks, Towers, City Skylines, visual representations of numbers shifting thru the human world.

and I have a damn straight gut instinct that tells me pi is somewhere within this too.

coincidence that the film is one of my favs? coincidence meeting Alex? coincidence the insatiable desire to be entirely financially independent and have FYM (what Alex and I like to call Fuck You Money meaning so much money that you can tell Anyone-Fuck You, without negative or irreversible consequences)? coincidence that my show biz manager just happens to be using algorithms for side cash? haaa

no.

not coincidence, at all.

the pieces are coming together and I'm lookin' down admiring the grand design.



Rock n' Roll. pure rock n' roll man.





the Parallax principle explained first in formula, then applied:





Thursday, May 20, 2010

same story....same ending?

tumbling, tumbling
sideways vertical
up the escalators down the subway
I'm seeing the angels in the shadows
I'm feeling the blue in the sunshine
tell me, when?

if I see all the 7's, 80 times in a row
if all the geese line up as I walk below
is this the sign leading me to that...x?
come around me, sit beside me, don't say it, say it
I don't care
it isn't fair, not to you, not to me
you're givin' me your heart on your sleeve
my heart is somewhere flying above the trees
tell me, when?




I wanna sleep
I wanna rock into the silence of oblivion
stop talking cuz' I'm not here
I never was
you said it would be better by now, you told me I'd be wrapped up in you
ambiguities, orange juice, monday, wednesday,
tell me, when?

tonight, it's definitely tonight
because the paint brush is mine
the colours that I've splattered on your chest look alive
you wear your heart outside of you
I wish I could remember how to do that too
trouble is I'm closed up and shutting you out
there's a golden microphone that's blinding me
up on the stage and in the city lights
well that's where I belong
you're convinced it'll all come to pass, that this glamour never lasts
that we'll fly into the sunset, you'll build me a ship to space
tell me, when?




I see the children laughing in the park
the rings on all the spring brides
I wish I could believe you when you say one day that'll be us



cuz I've walked down that road before
I've sliced my soul to make it work
I've been flushed down the toilet like a used fetus
believed till I became a fool
I've tasted the joy
been speared by the trap
I aint doin' it again

but freedom's turned out to be a punk ass bitch
once you get her...you're bound to Miss....

so yea, life took pity and brought You about
you kinda fell outta the sky, kinda landed like a martian in my lap
like another chance, and a brand new dance
and I wanna be chained to you, I want to be handcuffed to your shoes


but I'm surrounded by red glasses, holding up my delicate tresses
wanderlust, magic flush
this artsy mess is my disease
my pencil and piano is all I've got, all I've ever had
the only thing steady in this chaotic universe



it's the same old story babe, you're just another face
if it didn't work with him, what makes you think you and I are different?

I've changed and I'm the same
just exgaggerated
it's for the legend I've got to create, that I exist....
that, I've tragically discovered, is the only fairy tale for me


so excuse me when I pass you on the sidewalk
excuse me when I run away from your open arms
this isn't a goodbye

we both know I'm not the one


you say someday, someday you say,
it wasn't yesterday
it wasn't today



so tell me,

when?

Monday, May 17, 2010

Internal Symphony

something wonderful is happening to me...something magical is filling my senses...
the magic within my soul is Music. I am grateful to the universe for Music.


the clouds aren't lifting, the rain doesn't stop falling, but here I am, underneath the canopy, free to scream: free to run,

what is this love that guides me? what is this peace which calms me?

oh it is Music. Music. I thank the universe, for Music. the place I can roam in infinite directions, forever, without limit or restriction. from piano to voice to guitar to melody, emotion to silence........my love my love, you have never faltered nor given up, no matter how long I've pushed you aside or how far I roam> for there you are within me: always offering your arms to mend, oh, it is for you I am alive

m u s i c



"I believe in music....the way that some people believe in fairy tales....."



-August Rush



these past few days have been extraordinary. Music, no matter how long I leave it sitting on the shelf or how far I go away...there it is, within me, ready to ignite whenever I light the match of my essence. from Listening, to Composing, from hours of perfecting a song, to just revelling in the brilliance of musicians, from jamming with fellow music soulmates, to solo harmony with an instrument....

its.....


Miraculous.


what I'm currently working on is a cover of a favourite song....which in my opinion, the depths of which have nothing whatsoever to do with religion, but it truly is Holy. the Universe is sacred in nature, the balance depicted within this song is a masterpiece. this is a total shit recording of me performing but I still feel this giant urge to share it, even in draft form...music is like a contagious virus that insists you share it with everyone in the room... I'll youtube upload it when I re-record, perfect it and get all the distortion and other kinks out. I wish I could play it on my piano, but I haven't seen it in a year. I wish I had a piano everywhere I went, that is the benefit of guitars, violins, etc. which I love too, but damn it would be Awesome to have a little mini piano I could stick in my pocket and then expand on the subway or in the middle of a field. that's really where I envision playing...in the middle of a great big field on a moonlit night with a thousand stars above.....



video



"Hallelujah"-Leonard Cohen

Now I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
It goes like this
The fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah

Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty in the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you
To a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

Baby I have been here before
I know this room, I've walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you.
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
but Love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

There was a time you let me know
What's really going on below
But now you never show it to me, do you?
And remember when I moved in you?
The holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Well Maybe there's a "God" Above
But all that I've ever learned from love
Was how to shoot somebody
who outdrew you
well it's not a cry that you hear at night
and it is not somebody who's "seen the light"
it's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

You say I took the name in vain
Well baby I don't even know the name
But if I did, well really, what's it to you?
There's a blaze of light
In every word
It doesn't matter which you heard
The holy or the broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

I did my best, it wasn't much
I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch
I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you
And even though
It all went wrong
I'll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah


> old piano compositions:

Thursday, May 13, 2010

the Music of You




It is raining and the sky is light orange. The hills are lush and green. I am stranded at the base, wanting to climb towards the sky. Wanting to fly above the earth and be free.

When I was in high school all I wanted was freedom from my parents and freedom from the oppressing school system. When I finally got it later on, a whole new slavery amassed. Slave to money, dictating, everything. And you're still a slave even if you're Above the masses. You're still a slave if you're in the entrepreneural world. It's a bigger cage to roam in, but it's still a cage. Because to the most part you always have to provide something that is of worth to other people. You can't ever just exist, for yourself. For the sake of purely existing. But because there is so much weighing on me these days, so much restrainment that I feel, surely there is some way, there's gotta be some solution, a way to rise above this mass slavery. What's really incredible is how when so many people around you think one way, and indeed the entire world around you seems to think in one way, the easiest solution people have for your way of thinking is to conclude that you're Wrong. The whole “majority rules” effect. First you're labeled as a loony and they try to put you away in the loony bin. When you are able to explain your albeit “crazy” thoughts in lucid tones, they realize you're not loony. Then what? Then they conclude that though you are not loony, you are stubborn and selfish. That it's wrong to think the way you think because so many millions of others don't think like you do. That to serve the world, you shouldn't be yourself and true to your thoughts and ideas, but that you should poke and tease your thoughts and ideas until they fit to your world. What a retarded way to live. It's a death trap, everywhere you go. There are so many that have compromised, and know that they have compromised, and they don't want to admit to themselves they have compromised. So the only way for them to feel alright about their own life choices is to tell you that it is necessary for you to compromise. That the only way to survive and the only way to live is to compromise. And what is compromise exactly? Doing or embracing that which isn't absolutely 100% in tune to your inner self. That can be anything from settling for a piece of food that you don't fully like to settling for a job or a lifestyle that isn't fully what you want. Marriage, people always say , is all about compromise. Indeed the majority of married people sound like bitter cynics. Then there are the rare minority who truly are free, in all ways, from their lifestyles to their loves. But unless you've actually met any of these people, or shove them into speaking with cynics, they become urban legends and unicorns that other people assume don't exist. A cynic believes that his way of thinking is the Only way of thinking and living, that sooner or later, after enough living, everyone will come to their conclusion. Newsflash, there are over six billion people on this planet, and not every single one of them compromises....

SO. In conclusion:

There are people, billions of people, all with their own unique thoughts and ideas about the world. It is easy to be surrounded by the thoughts of other people and question the validity of your own. Especially when your ideas are the minority and you are overwhelmed with the majority. There is a sure way to be able to determine whether your ideas and thoughts are truly valid or not. Pay attention to the ickiness factor. There is some wiring in the system which does not allow for anything less than purity to remain. The resistance you feel, if you feel it, indicates that there is something not right in your life. If the thing that is not right, is adjacent to the thoughts of other people, then you know your thoughts are valid. If however the ickiness is coming from within, and not directed towards something external, then your ideas need re-evaluation. If you are true to the thoughts which come from within yourself, your moment of peace settles somewhere in your gut. You can find your way back to it. If you take on the thoughts of others as your own and attempt to live in accordance with them, sometimes this will lead you to your own truths and other times it won't. You will be able to sense that the path has strayed when you feel the ickiness. It is an ickiness that envelops the body, sometimes resulting in physical discomfort, and sometimes only a matter of mental disturbance. If something is not in tune, your body, your being, will be unable to live the music that is living. The way to tune yourself is to listen to where the ickiness is coming from.

I am a box that holds keys without locks, yet they can unlock your soul. What am I?

that is the riddle of the hour.




5 years I've had this "blog". I hate that word. This, I would refer to as the physical representation of me on the cybersphere. It's not some extension, it's literally, me, on the web. I love this damn "blog". I love how it's like my little apartment online and everything I put up here I put bam into the publicsphere and it's very freeing. I feel like I am putting forth the subatomic energy within my soul out into visible force fields of thought back into the universe from where it first came from anyway. I am a monkey and this is where I throw my feces. Even if nobody ever reads this thing, I feel it's my link to the powerful minds which will come after my death and after this current century, far far down the road, and they will see: AH HAH!! someone DID know what was up. yes. this is my historical mark, on the interface of web time, that somehow I think will be my epitaph post-humously. I love, adore, this space of mine. I think I will be posting more frequently henceforth.

Tea is so magnificent. With or without sugar and milk. It soothes the crinks in your soul. Writing. Describing the undefinable. Is that really a craft? It seems rude. Life doesn't ask to be described. Yet man never stops his struggle to define it.

Sometimes I feel a surreal sort of guilt whenever I explode "creatively". What a silly concept. creativity. when I'm in it...whatever I'm working on is the most important urgent mission in the history of mankind. When I'm finished, I am disgusted at whatever it is I've just created. A bunch of words/paint/musical notes on a piece of paper? It's ridiculous. In that second, my usual contempt for modern man's society and the corporate machine seems to make a hell of a lot more sense and use than my paintbrush.

and then....this happens>

There is a silence overtaking me. I gladly let myself be nulled out to it. This silence only comes after extreme activity. After my senses and body have been so traumatized that all there is left to do is rest. Running does this. Creative spurts of productivity do this. Fucking does this. Strenuous actions which pound my body into submission by forcing it against other forces, have the surprising effect of calming it down. This aggression, the violence, the more violent it is the deeper peace I find afterwards. Fighting has the same effect. I find actually that when I avoid stress, when I avoid the torment of the grind, I am restless and uneasy. Thoughts are convoluted and my mind is weak, my body drained of energy. Even my face changes. It becomes rugged, etched. After a good fuck, one in which I am bashed by my lover repeatedly, I am so peaceful hours later. The effect is not immediate, it takes time for the body to recognize it. But afterwards, what a deep rest. Like a pot of water that is set to boil. All the chemicals, all the viruses, all the filth of it stripped away by the boiling, and all that is left is pure, still, water. Water that is innocent. But to reach that innocence it must undergo a thunderstorm. Yes. Man is like that. Man needs extreme violence before peace can be found. This world is begging for such an extreme violence right now. 2012 a cleansing. Mankind desperately needs to be boiled.


At some point I stopped listening to music to enjoy it's beauty. I began listening to it as a companiment to another activity I was doing. That is the trap of modern civilization. Instead of enjoying something for what it is, as it is, it is paired to something else as a means of progression. This multi-tasking is slowly decaying man's ability to appreciate art. Then I question if mergence has been around for centuries. Silver and black for instance, is much more appealing than the two colours individually. Man and woman mate to make a child. Is mergence one of the cores of existence? Chemicals being fused together to make medicines, to make food, to create clothing, to create other elements out of themselves that are used by man. H20 for example. Hydrogen And Oxygen coming together. Is fusion the necessary force of life?


A second world. That might be the answer. Like the computer virtual reality game second life. Like the ww2, the second internet. How could this new world, new universe be started and how would it be based? What ingredients would you need to build a universe? Would it start from the basic, from the elements within science? Or would it somehow start thru current technology and take over the present world? Or would it all start within the mind, some kind of a wormhole to a 4th dimension, the 4th dimension being time, maybe the new world would be a reality in which we'd have instantaneous access to view the impact of the choices we make in the present for our future. And the new world would be “errorless” in that sense, or, the rebirth of the original Adam and Eve paradise, without sin.

All things eventually pass, this I do know. You see it present in the day to day, with pop culture. One Hollywood starlet being hot for a while, then giving way to a new one, the old now not as interesting or beautiful. Why? Has she changed, become less beautiful, become less rare? No. It is only the truth that all things eventually pass. Everything is temporary, and everyone is temporary. Some things take longer to pass than others, but everything eventually passes. You see it present in the cycles of life, it's seasons, it's deaths. Present in the human world, in the rise and fall of economy. In the inward realm, where one significant experience slowly mutes itself and gives rise to another. All badness eventually passes, as does all goodness. There is nothing you can hold on to. Nothingness is what is everything. So it is not actually detachment which should be your goal as the Taoists and Buddhists suggest, but rather embracing every opportunity to attach yourself as wholly as possible, for it soon will pass.


Interesting. People find it a lot easier to believe lies about me than the truth. The truth is so abnormally nonsensical, that it makes absolutely no sense. Therefore it is easier to believe the normal, and place me in a little box of stereotypes that are easy to digest. The truth makes no sense. The truth makes no sense, and therefore, it must be false. That is what most people tend to think. So, if I am real, and everything about me is real, even though it makes no sense, then it must also mean other things in the universe which make absolutely no sense are real as well. Unless I am the anomaly of not making sense and the only thing which doesn't. This is a very important thing to be in realization of, because if the rules of logic that people normally apply to life fail to make sense of me, then they must fail to make sense of other things, and perhaps big things, like 2012, the presence of aliens, the very existence of the universe...

I need to invent a thought-recording machine. And a dream-recording machine, though, the Japanese have already partially done that. Which is Great! Ego can't get in the way of progression. If mankind had no ego, a hell of a lot more could get done.

When I get old, I wanna be known as the crazy old lady who always has candy in her pockets. I want to be the stray bit of pleasure to kids that have already discovered at a young age the sickness of life. I wanna be the place they can come to in search of dark thoughts and truths, and of course small little chocolates I'll conceal in the many pockets I'll have. You gotta have lots of pockets when you're old. Children like going thru pockets, and you gotta have something interesting in each one. A story for each object, a magical and glorious story, quirky enough to be almost believable. See because I'd make a real shoddy parent, I'd be too liberated to force children to do anything, and too absent-minded to remember that they need taking care after. But I'd be an awesome old lady with candy in my pockets. I'd be the best at that.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

A Good Day

Wow. Today has been the first truly Fantastic day in a Looong while.

There is no specific KaPow event, more like a small but powerful affirmation that regardless of however I've doubted myself, I've kept stepping in the right direction.

I feel humbly blessed for my two managers Larry and Kevin, without which I don't think I could have survived this hellhole I've been in for what seems an eternity. Their faith, belief and persistent positive attitude in keeping up my spirits in the professional realm regardless of the seemingly impossible obstacles is an unprecedented gift. It's surreal to look back and reflect: only two years ago I would have thought finding them would happen to me only if a cow flew over the moon.

I feel blessed and grateful for my own self worth and self dignity that regardless of all the pitfalls and crushes, still somehow remains in tact. I am thankful for every gift and every talent, every opportunity, every success and every failure. For life shows me every day that what one day is a failure becomes the beginning of a huge opportunity, and makes you appreciate the success all the more deeply.

I mean I am sure in a few days or even tomorrow daily life will commence and all this will be a bit too fluffy-headed and lovey-dovey, but it really is true at core. There are people literally DYING right this second. And here I am, full use of legs and arms and body and mind and spirit and heart. It doesn't matter how long I have on this earth or what forces go for me or against me. That I am alive in this very instant is such a tremendous Blessing.

I also feel blessed in many other areas of my life. Today I truly took time to reflect and be grateful for what I Have in my life, not what I am missing. It may not be perfect, it certainly isn't the fairy tale it started out being, but it's my life, my, life, what an enormous power it is to re-affirm the stark reality of having the miracle of Life.

My family. I am blessed with not one, but Four. My extended family in Russia, and man have we underwent a tremendous few losses this past year. First my Totya Ala was diagnosed with breast cancer and braved thru a difficult and painful surgery. Minus a breast and she's still if not more so as womanly as she ever was. The females in my family are Tough, this is certain. Then, the strong warrior she is had to endure the sudden death of my favourite Uncle Eura-her husband of 30+ years of a lung complication. On top of that, my beloved Babushka, my mother's grandmother who raised her, and Totya Ala's Mother-in-Law was in and out of consciousness for several months and finally passed away last November. What was absolutely amazing and touched me deeply that during all of this was that even though all of us are spread across the globe we all pulled together and wove a mattress of moral support for our dear Totya Ala. Though we rarely get the chance to talk to one another, We were a family-and as modern and futuristic of a family as there is! Totya Ala went in a matter of months from being a healthy lady to a breast cancer survivor, widow, and close to orphan-Babushka was also a deep spirit of strength for her. Totya Ala nursed her in her final days, which obviously was horrific on the human spirit-to watch your beloved dying in front of you unable to be consciously aware. Everyone in Russia practically never let her be alone in that apartment, visitors every day with food and care and the phone ringing nonstop. It lifted my heart with awe that I come from a bloodline of such amazing people. I won't elaborate on the heartbreaking effect this had on me-Babushka raised me from age 0-7 and we remained close, it's really hard to talk about it which is why it's taken me a while to be open about it. My Babushka was an incredible woman, she survived two wars, watched her entire family get shot by the Nazis when they were trying to take over the Caucasus, she hid my mother's biological father in the storage shed-because he had dark facial features and looked like a Jew. There is a poem I dedicated in my book to her which sadly she never got to see in print. But I did read it to her in Russian the summer of 2007-which again was a major brilliant move on my mother's part to insist that we all go and visit. That was the last time I saw my Babushka, it was good that we all got our chances to say goodbye. I feel sorry that my father never got to, she was especially close to him too. Somehow though, I feel she is watching over us every time the clouds get a little pink-because she always said that when the clouds turn a little pink, it's a guarantee it'll be windy the next day-she's consistently right about things like that. My Uncle Eura, he was quite the character. A curmudgeneous, sarcastic, interesting old "fart" of a fellow as he referred to himself, and my favourite uncle. He's not the type to take you fishing. He's the type that convinced my younger uncle Maxima to force feed me my first shot of alcohol when I was 11. Thanks to him, I was so shocked by the event I detested the taste so much, discovered my very low tolerance for alcohol and I never turned into an alcoholic. My Uncle Eura was a big ole' womanizer in his day. Over-excessive hedonism in all areas: women, alcohol, food. But his heart was always in the right place. And it's that type of Hemingway type attitude that I always loved about him and favoured him above all my other older uncles. He was Grumpy from the Seven Dwarfs, and I'm proud to speak of him and to have known him. How my Totya Ala survived all of this I don't have the heart to even imagine. It's partially the Pyrkova curse that runs in the women in my family, and partially the Strength we have within us. She Survived. She's a Fighter.

My family in Bangladesh-being closer now with my stepmother-a truly unexpected gift and blessing, has given me an in depth understanding of my roots than I ever knew. All of the talents within my family, all the many histories and various life stories . Each one with it's own merit, humour, tragedy, failure, joy and success. And I come from the bloodline of all these combined brilliants from such different parts of the world. It's humbling. *I will write more on my Bangladeshi family later...

My father who has been my constant rock's side and my new wonderful spiritual mentor of a stepmother, a new teenage sister who is Extremely troublesome-but this is an opportunity to make sure the same shit that happened to me won't happen to her. The overly Oedipidal relationship I had with my father has entirely shifted gears and we finally are growing into the type of functional father-daughter relationship that we should have had years ago. He's still my rock, but we're no longer constant buddy-buddy consultants in each other's lives as if we're life partners. I am finally free to be Daughter, and he is free to be Father. Thanks to my stepmother for knocking sense into us both. Though I am far away from her, she never ceases to be in my heart. I have my mother, who, for the First time in my life we are slowly getting to a middle ground in which we can be there for each other as who we are, maybe even one day be best friends. She is such a Heart to me, such a Blood, such an incredible woman that I feel so proud to call my mother. We have our battles yes, and we've slung the worst at each other: but she's IN me. I didn't think That would be possible even a year ago. I especially didn't think it would be possible under the turn of events that my life has went under. But if anything, all the dynamic trauma has shown me just how deeply my family loves me and stands by me. No matter what. They may not fully understand me, or accept my life choices and decisions, but their love has never faltered and I now see after the years of torturous adolescence that they really did always want the best for me. My beautiful wonderful little 4 year old brother who is so full of energy and magic and every time I see him it just brings me to this light and happy place. Cutest thing he asked me once cuz he gets so confused as to where I am-every time I visit I'm coming from some different location so he asks me once when I'm giving him a bath, "Lika! ? " with a bemused expression, "where do you live?" laughing, "well where do you Think I live Johnika?" , about to say Lllll for LA, he changes his mind and points to the army of Martian toys Mama gave him and says, "I think you come from where they come from," very seriously. I, laughing, "from where? Mars"? "yeaaaa!!!!!" and he laughs so hard and so beautifully and pulls me into the bath hugging me. See! Kids, you think they might not "get it". But they DO!!!! Even my stepfather who I still haven't really mended our differences with, I have learned bears no ill will towards me and does his best to care in the best way he knows how. and another thing it all has taught me is distance really is irrelevant with love. Far away and near, my family I have discovered is there for me infinitely-how Lucky I am. When people truly love you, they find a way to be there for you regardless of whatever is in the way. There is nothing in the way, because they make you feel loved.

Which brings me to another huge pillar in my life: the incredible people I've met, know, developed bonds with, and the friendships we've shared and grown. I feel honored that some of the great people I know call me their friends. Friendship doesn't even begin to describe it. The harmonious connection between two spirits that understand each other, and just how Amazing it is that I have so many Different types of understandings on different levels with so many different types of people. Some are friends from afar. Others I see on a daily basis. Others I haven't seen in years. Some I haven't even ever met in real life but thru their words I feel heart to heart connectivity. Each gives me a strength, an uplifting and a surge of power whenever I am at my downest, dirtiest, darkest. These amazing individuals who shine in their own unique ways take the time to respond to a distressed email at 3 in the morning or a phone call in the middle of their business meetings. How when I was broke and starving in LA Alex drove all the way across town and brought me a gigantic box of food even left it outside my door with no thought of grattitude knowing that I was in my hermitty state, how Rory has had my back on damn near every occasion I've exploded in self doubt and has stayed up nights and days just talking me thru hard times even though he had a class to get to or a shift he was late for which he wouldn't even tell me until after, how Gian ignites my passion and makes me feel like I'm in highschool and gives me that relief of a the simple attraction of two hot blooded people to each other, how Ozzy isn't afraid to kick my ass into gear and the motivated individual he is for propelling towards The City of Ataraxia, how Mr.D always has some divine message to offer in a wonderfully sarcastic way, how ForbiddenBuddha a.k.a Dan though we've never met I think how lovely it would be to share a waltz and talk of all the times we've gone thru, the sheer incredible physical Beauty of Nina and how she's pretty much the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen up close not to mention her inner spirit, the brilliance of Each of them and all the other intellectual confidants I know -when I soak in their thoughts it's like a rainstorm of genius. It just blows my mind how much value and worth there is in this beautiful thing of two people being there for each other. I would not say that I have Many friends. The few who are in my close circle are-very few. And those are the ones I have known longest, and known thru all spheres-reality and distance and etc. But the bonds I have with many others, even if we don't know each other in Every sphere, I cherish each as incredibly individual and unique. I am So Thankful.

well I'm incredibly sleepy and tired in a magnanimously wonderful way.

I have a lot more to write, which I will tomorrow or sometime later, but I felt the tremendous urge to share this depth of grattitude with the universe. I am SOOO Lucky, in SO many ways.

Whoever is reading this, if I know you, if I don't know you, if we've met, if we haven't, I THANK YOU. I hope you take the time to reflect upon your life and the countless blessings you have within and around you. Even the shittiest most horrible most awful disgusting mess you find yourself in, there IS ALWAYS plenty to be thankful for.

I Am Lucky.


And if you examine your own life, bit by bit, you'll see that you are too.

Love to you, Love everywhere....Good Night!


SLC Punk

WELL






ok it had to be said and somebody had to say it and that somebody is ME!!

TYLER . YOU


RAAAAWWWWWKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WEEEE!!!!!!!!
















and hahahhahaahaha here is Gian going crazy (as usual) but this time.... in the Forest!










is that supposed to be me?! gasp! raised eyebrows. lolololol








aaaahhh. peaaaace.






Gooooo Jakey! shake yo thing!!! see how ka-ka-kooool I look with my eyes all squinty like a vampire muwwhahhhhaaaaa!!! beware of the swing of my ponytail!!!! but yeeaaaa I need a tan. badly. my skin is crazy. 3 weeks ago it was dark and now I'm white. I blame the snow. I blame the fluids. no. I blame that damn iceland volcano. that's the fashion now isn't it, anything goes wrong, blame it on that damn volcano.

acceptance





"she said, with her eyes in her tears and her hands on her eyes, she said and she felt, weeping into the marshlands. the forest and the snow, and all of it surrounding, and the only quiet stirring was the hummmmm of the catscan. and the MRI and the EKG and all the beeps and all the hums. that cold tiled room and the unescapable sentence. she said and she told him quietly. she told him all so, silently, as she gazed into the near future with her hands on her eyes. that there would be no more dancing. that there would be no more fantasizing. that this was the end that she saw coming, so very long ago before she met him. but what was he to say? just what could erase the bitter taste of this dreary day? she looked up at him, smiling, with a twinkle in her tears, she looked into his weeping heart, smiling, as she told him she was dying, as she told him that in a year there would be nothing left of her face. and he held her face in his hands, and together they both cried and laughed. and she took a fist of snow and threw it across the dune. and they stared at it smash into the white hill. they sat together on the log rail. they looked all around for an avalanche or a deer or something to disturb the finality. and she put her hands on her eyes, and she put her heart on his hands, and she looked up into the clear blue sky as the snowflakes danced around her black hair. there was bliss and only grattitude, only pure and fragrant eternity. the cancer had spread from spine to shoulder, and next year on this day she'd be under the ground buried, but in this moment she held her eyes and his heart, and together they'd go thru this. and the tears they stopped a-fallin'. and the wound it stopped a-hurtin'. cuz the death of her simple cells could never destroy the moment."










Two: I am on the brink of something. Something is always, every day, every minute of my wretched existence, I am so close to It. The truth, the answer, the solution, the sky dive of euphoria. But I cannot reach it. It is like I am late for a train, rush to catch it, and arrive at the platform huffing and puffing just in time to see it clamber away on the tracks. I run after it, but it's just out of my reach. It leaves me behind. Or I, let it go. I'm not sure which. I think, maybe if I run faster, maybe if I just run until the legs in me have died and I no longer feel them, then will I be able to catch it? Then will I be able to grab on to it's ledge and pull myself up? Then will the doors open and the dining hall revealed to be full of biscuits and gourmet dining? The smiles of the passengers, the lightness of the air? The truth displayed to me for my feasting?
Why am I thus cursed? Why do I have this craving to find something, to discover? Why cannot I ever just, be, exist, with no want of anything else? Sometimes I have it, sometimes the nothingness completely overtakes me and I can be at peace. But it is broken by something else always. By hunger, by horniness, by restlessness, by thirst, by a need to shit and urinate. Oh! What total wastes of time. I anger at the universe, how much time I have spent shitting and pissing. Years of my life probably, just spent shitting, pissing. I have refrained from drinking and eating sometimes for days, just to prevent the shitting and the pissing. But the joy of food soon overtakes me, so I accept that in order to eat I have to shit and piss. But I don't think I actually Accept it. I just tolerate it. I tolerate, this life. I have Tolerance, for it. My tolerance builds with things that give me pleasure. I tolerate it all until I die. But I have no acceptance that this thing I am always just at the brink of is my fate. Why is it so? And again I ask the universe, I ask the energy and the power, why, why, am I cursed with these talents and these convulsions if I have no way of releasing them? It's damn near impossible, for me to exist. I can only think of a few selective moments in my life when I have been close to ultimate freedom of everything I am. So brief they are that they quickly give way to other realities. No, life refuses, people refuse, to see me and let me be in what I am. I cannot be crazy and sane, I cannot be prolific and empty, I cannot be horny and celibate. I have to choose bits and pieces of myself and pretend that they are the whole me. And none of them are. I cannot be hungry and not hungry at the same time. My body forces me to choose which path I walk on. If I choose hunger then I eat. And if the other, I do not eat. I am not allowed to both eat and not eat. It's not possible in this dimension. It's not possible for food to enter my mouth and in the same exact moment for food to not enter my mouth. It's either one or the other. But this is so disastrous to me. This is so heartbreaking. Where is the 4th dimension? How can I access it so that thru the wavelength of time I can both be here and not here, alive and dead? Perform one action and not perform it simultaneously? Why does this cruel universe always force me to choose? It's sadistic, the choice. I don't agree with either path, not fully, not 100%, but I have to act upon one or the other and have the action show that I agree with it. But I do not! I do not. I do not like one thing over another, never like only one thing, over the other. I see, feel, believe in them all equally. But that condition of not being, that condition is one which life does not seem to want to give me the freedom to do. Freedom! That thing again.

The nothingness, it is still here. And it is being interfered in. It is being muddled with, I am being poked by life to do something with it. Why why why why why? I am always neverending, unfinished, unsolved. But everything which surrounds me demands that I be solved! Demands that I be finished!

I don't want to take my place in the world. I don't want to be a rat on an escalator clamboring to get to the last piece of cheese. I don't want to choose to be anything, because I feel I am everything. I feel I am on the edge of it. I am on a wild ride, I am lifted and fallen.

the Reality of Gratitude



I am not a smile. I am not a frown. I am not the hero of my fantasy. I cannot fly nor shoot lightning from my fingertips. what is around me is neither chaos nor order. I will not speak in extremes upon this hour, for there is nothing for me to reveal in exaggeration that is not best expressed thru simplicity.


underlying every moment, in between each hesitation, within the depths of despair, the essence of what I truly feel about life is grattitude.


all that I am, all that I am surrounded by, my past, the potential of my future, the possibility of this very moment, is a gift.


I am thankful.

this is not a glorious revelation. not a powerful sonnet. not an eloquent mantra. it is neither fiction nor fact and holds no bold features which I generally am attracted to. it is the reality of gratitude.

and right now, for me, it is enough.




Wednesday, May 05, 2010

Oasis

there is a disease covering this world. a fog that has turned most everyone into zombies.

master a trade. get a job. buy a car. buy a house. get married. have babies. repeat until dead.


gossip everywhere. soulless, dull, monotonous doldroms. everywhere I go, everywhere I turn, it's always the same shit. just a different twist. eventually the pretty fades away and the bitterness of reality is left.

the only place I feel free is in my dreams. so many people on this planet don't even dream. have never even heard of lucid dreaming. oh how much they miss.

fuck this planet.

some days I'm encouraged and motivated by the quest to create the new world, the one that I and several others are envisioning. a pure paradise for the enlightened, free minds of humanity. and then I walk the streets. I see the drug stained sidewalks. the masks on people's faces. everything is like a charcoal painting washing over me. I alone see the future, I alone am the future. I see a place sometime somehow that matches the world in my lucid dreams. is everyone else blind to the sickness of this world? where there is more value in learning common life survival tactics like the rise and fall of economic markets, and taxes, and how to get the most mileage out of your car...and less value on thoughts, ideas, all grouped into the condescending "philosophy". I think, what the hell is the point? there's only a rare few, less than .01 % of free minds left on this earth, and of those, most of them are in seclusion and have figured out ways to be left alone in isolation from the mockery of life this earth race has made. they have been too beaten up to even hope for what I hope for. they have been blasted into hermitude and all they wish for is some peace and solitude. those of us left on the outskirts fight for freedom, but, for who? "normal" society thinks we're nuts, wants us to shut up. we're fools, idealists, radicals, "delusionals". there aren't enough of us to create a political party or movement, we don't have the resources or the tools. and mainly there isn't enough of a demand for our vision. only the few of us want it. reality wins out on this planet, and what we blabber on about definitely, is not the current "reality". but see that's the thing that just boggles my head. in the age of facebook and the internet and all this great revolutionary change, why are people putting so much focus into External change instead of Internal change? myspace didn't exist 10 years ago. now most people can't imagine life without some type of social media. why can't this same openness to change be applied to the very ideals and beliefs of the mind?

act. act in what? in the trash that the hollywood market is producing? what a catch-22. sell your soul to get ahead, so that eventually one day you can come back to free the world.

but by then you're already dead.

I repeat, fuck the world.

times like this I think of Alex's credo, "save the world? ha yea right, are you kidding me? just fuckin' leave me alone in my apartment surrounded by walls of concrete from the idiots. just a little spot on the planet where no-one can touch me."

I'm off to lucid dream. I fly every time.




Tuesday, May 04, 2010

Be a Genius, Not an Intellectual

Stephen Hawking's History of Time: The Story of Everything

is a MUST SEE and everyone on this planet should watch it!!!!!!

Finally a program that shows blatant evidence in the indisputable truth of physics over religion. Yes, science
and religion must be married in order to get a big picture understanding. But what this
excellent doco takes a step further is put precise answers to flappable questions.

------

John Fante. Never heard of him before today. For some cosmic reason his thin paperback novel called out to me in a sea of overly-decorated flashy pop trash. Which always depresses me-that the Philosophy and Great Literature sections of Barnes & Noble are tiny little stalls at the back of the store, whilst "sex and the city: the sequel" and other such garbage has it's own stand smack center. Disgusting. Sad. When will this modern world shift it's priorities? It's hopelessly clueless. *note on that later



I started reading Fante's "Ask The Dust" and couldn't put it down. Fante should be placed in the classics. The power of his style is that it is honest, simple and strong. There are elements of J.D Salinger, minus the sarcastic wit. Fante doesn't have the literary eloquence of Hesse or the over-exaggerated lengthy descriptions of Faulkner, but that is exactly why reading him is soothing, smooth. Sparsely Hemingway, his style isn't entirely unique, but it's real. He structures concepts thru dialogue and narration and for a novel deeply about misery, it flows with the ease of a 40's Black and White film. Herman Hesse is my personal Yoda, and Fante is my new coffee cup collective mass of me and all my brilliant-struggling-artist friends. According to wikipedia his most significant novel "Ask The Dust" is the "greatest novel ever written about Los Angeles." I haven't read enough literature about Los Angeles to agree or disagree with this statement, but "Ask The Dust" is acutely bittersweet, poignant, beautiful, and a whole-hearted portroyal of LA life. Even though Fante wrote it decades ago, it's amazing how the essence of la-la land seems to have stayed the same.




Fante was the first of many to write about the struggle of writers/artists/etc. struggling in LA, but he was the one who was the Pioneer of the "LA Lyf is tuff yo" movement.





Like Hesse, yep, he's dead. All my damn heroes are dead.


Also "2012: Prophecies, Predictions & Possibilities" by Sounds True Publishers (Awwwwesome name!) is a terrific read. A wide range of perspectives and opinions from visionary thinkers, artists, writers and scientists. Cynics to believers. Fact/History as well as Theory. *relates directly to my saddened state at seeing the great works and thinkers of mankind ignored in a bookstore.

Totally expanded my mind in a zillion directions and it's great! Reading is k-k-koool kids!

------

Observation of this week:


Logic is an extremely underrated thing.
It is such a beautiful tool, perfectly, perfect.
The world, and people, should use it more often.

There is too much factoid based busy activity consuming the populace's energy and not enough time nor energy being spent on analyzing and thinking.


---------

"Intellectuals solve problems. Geniuses prevent them."-Einstein

Saturday, May 01, 2010

tha-tha-tha P-Party Don't Start Til' I Walk In












You know what I La-La-La-Looooove?


W I N N I N G


I am SO High.


Aint' no such thing as being "too competitive". I love games. I love adrenaline thumping thru my veins. and I love winning.

Last night was AWESOME!!!!!















I feel so....YEYEYAHAHHRRGGGGAAARRGGGHHH!!!!! off for a run



YEAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!