The Man, In the Van, Down by the River

My latest post at "Twilight."

The Man, In the Van, Down by the River.

"The Five People You Meet In Heaven"

This book is over the top. Regardless of religious belief, gender, or age, this is a must read. In a world where we are bombarded in our entertainment by over-the-top action, over-the-top adventure, over-the-top special effects, over-the-top sex, over-the-top violence, this story is over-the-top in an unusual way: it's over the top emotionally stirring.

A review on the back says it best: "This is the fable you will devour when you fall in love. This is the tale you will keep by your side when you are lost. This is the story you will turn to again and again, because it possesses the rare magic ti let you see yourself and the world anew. This book is a gift to the soul." -Amy Tan, author of "The Joy Luck Club "

Thank you Mitch Albom , and to my wife for recommending it.

Featured - Front Line Assembly

This isn't one of my favorites of theirs, but I'm having trouble figuring out how to get music on this page. Nonetheless, it's a decent song and really good video. I got to see them last year. They were performing at a rather small club with limited advertising. Thankfully somebody at work payed attention to my blathering and notified me. Of the three concerts I've been to in my life, it was the only one I wanted to go to. To fulfill the effect I insisted that I go alone. It was simply awesome.

Near Life Experience

OK. So he's not a Blogspot blogger. Nevertheless, his blog is noteworthy. Plus, he's from an exotic country. If he's not featuring an interesting peice of writing, he's writing an interesting piece that should be featured. And so

http://blog.wolfganglukas.com/

Did I mention his name? The only way this guy could be any cooler, is if he lived in ICELAND or somethin'!

Blooming Yaya

This lady knows how to handle life. With humor! I'm struggling to get there, but apparently some things DO only come with age.

http://bloomingyaya.blogspot.com/

An Artform is Born...

I found this site earlier this year. Some stories are weak, some are strong. Quite a few will make you laugh. And, then, some you'll need Kleenex on standby for.

One Sentence Stories

http://www.onesentence.org/stories/


Check January and February '08. March seems rather lackluster thus far.

Mico's Forest

This young man demonstrates a level of perception that is quite praiseworthy. His blog lives up to its name in that it feels like it has transported you to another place. Inviting, insightful, informative, interesting, indirectly intense.

http://michaelmata.blogspot.com/

Just Me

That's what I suppose we're here to do in "Blogland". I, just be me, you just be you. Explore our souls, capture ourselves, sew our shadows to our feet, and decide whether to mature and live for a cause or remain naive and try to die for one.

Of the blogs I favor, this blog feels most like a kindred spirit. Whether she's telling a story, ranting, or philosophizing, her blog is perpetually thought provoking. Not like mine. Of course, I'm still "renovating the asylum".

Check this one out. I would describe it as a cross between Blooming Yaya and Mico's Forest

Just Me

http://mytwocents2.blogspot.com/

My Chain/Chain of Thoughts

My Chain: It looks like a miniature bicycle chain. It sounds like a zipper being done and undone as my pendant slides to and fro while I stride. It feels like a serrated-knife gone dull as I run it through my fingers. It's warm as I move, retaining my body heat, but cold when I put it back on in the morning. It's heavy for a chain, but still quite light for it's durability. Sometimes, up close, it smells similar to a handful of pocket-change. When I clean it, it actually smells cold, with only a hint of the isopropyl I used as solvent. Sometimes, when I'm putting on a sweater or something, I hold it between my lips. It tastes gritty, and the metallic flavor is both foreign and familiar; it reminds me of the taste of flatware, only instead of delivering literal meat it delivers the meat of my memories.
=======
This chain is like a silent friend through the years. And like a true friend, it's stood with me through all my trials, beside me even through my mistakes. When the dirt of dusty roads was in my throat, it was in the gears of my chain. It hangs over my heart and knows its beatings better than I do. The tears that I have managed to shed didn't just fall onto my chest but were caught by my chain. It times my stride like the pendulum of a clock. If my chain were alive, it would be my closest friend; if it weren't for my wife, it would be my best friend.
===
Arizona. Terrain. Sand. Rock gardens. Avenues with no trees. Post-card sunsets. Mountain vistas too colorful for any painting. Authentic Mexican food. 125 degree heat - in the shade. Crickets - always the sound of crickets. Ruggedly beautiful - like how a little boy sees his dad. But everything is dangerous: the flowers worse than poison oak, scorpions, tarantulas, rattle-snakes, cacti, spikes hiding under the leaves of every tree, heat-strokes handed out like advice from a mother-in-law.
===
Beauty truly is in the eye of the beholder. Blood may be thicker than water, but I'd rather drink water. I developed a family out there: my wife Freeness; my spiritual parents Torch and Lighthouse, who guided me away from bitterness, providing me food and shelter - especially in a spiritual sense; Baguira and Raksha, my "aunt and uncle" who's stories assured me that someone always has it worse, and can always be better.
===
Cer Torch. Kept everyone at arms length, but warmed their hearts nonetheless. Called a jerk a jerk, and a salvageable heart a good one. Almonds in a bottomless bowl - dry but addictive. A man's man and a mentor's mentor. Happy despite his scars.
===
People try to hide their heartaches, and usually fail. Torch grew up in an orphanage, moved out at sixteen and lied about his age to enlist. Some people would be scared enough to call this a triumph; some, like Torch, acknowledged that something was missing - and pursued it. He strove to convey that you don't have to be a genius to look for the truth, and understand it.
===
Credulity. Apathy in borrowed robes. I recently realized it's nothing more than fear. People are afraid of what they don't know or understand. Most think it's childish to explore with round-eyed wonder, which is why they cease to learn, stagnating in intelligence. When something unknown comes along, rather than exploring for the truth, they'll accept the first idea presented to them so they don't have to feel so scared. This is precisely why these kind (most) of people guard their opinions so viciously - like an immature toddler with their dingy security-blanket.
===
Regarding dog-fighting in the news a while back, somebody actually said that Michael Vick was doing the world a favor by killing pit-bulls; that pit-bulls should be wiped out because they're dangerous. What a Nazi-without-a -cause. That's the exact equivalent to advocating genocide. And all because they know nothing of the virtues of a properly raised pit-bull and this terrifies them. They are too vain to admit ignorance and do some research, and so, latch on to the first idea to be handed to them. Credulous people might be excused due to their fear, but if that's the case, junkies should be excused for wanting to get away from it all for a while.

Anonymous said...

blink. blink. blink.

- - - close mouth - - -

so that's what's spinning around in that hot little head of yours.

i can honestly say that you are amazing. (and you're butt's not bad, either...)

March 5, 2008 9:49 AM

Anonymous said...

"Anonymous", you're a Goof ball! =) Thanks for maintaining you're anonymity.

March 5, 2008 9:59 PM

Handful of Philosophies

I have a collection of philosophies that I frequently refer to. I use my hand - or fingers, rather - as a mnemonic device.

Pinky
Pick your attitude: Derived from the famous "Fish Philosophy"'s Choose Your Own Attitude; You choose your attitude, not circumstance.

Communication: The Ring finger should symbolize relationship, and the cement in the foundation of ANY relationship is COMMUNICATION!

3 Reasons: 3 reasons to do--or not to do-- anything is plenty. Any more and you're thinking too hard.

Barber Pole: The red, white and blue of the barbershop pole is not patriotic in origin. When it was invented, few people were literate and symbols were needed. The colors instead stood for blood, bandages, and [bactericide]. This one is quite new and replaced a philosophy I never really adhered to anyway. It's to remind me that only blood matters in the long haul, laughter heals, and clean and safe prevents "the blues".

Thumb
Solution at Hand: To any problem/challenge at hand, there is ALWAYS a solution at hand. Even if it's gotta be a "band-aid fix" or "MacGyvered". You just gotta find it.

I. R. C.

IRC was developed in hopes of controlling my anger. When executed, it's actually quite humbling.

The acronym:
Injustice - or, to a lesser degree, blatant Inconsideration
Retardation - defined as the restriction of progress. Stay out of my way.
Credulity - people who [choose] to be duped. This especially applies to those who fit into their [negative] stereotypes.

The application:
For things that IRK me, first I try 10 deep breaths--seriously! Then, consider: does it measure up to I.R.C.? Would I be willing to write it down for fear of feeling silly later?

Minding P's and Q's

Here's a philosophy I came up with not too long after I started "swinging for the fences" as a Bible Student, around summer of '02

It'd be great if I could apply this again!

Minding your P's and Q's

(Similar to): Measure Twice, Cut Once
(Liken to): Two Ears, One Mouth

Sorry! Here it is:

Only speak to/in Praise or regarding Questions (asking/answering)

When speaking to somebody, you can reasonably use only speech that praises them, or the subject, or ask and respond to questions. P's and Q's. No negative speech is necessary. It helped me overcome my profusion of profanity for over three years. I slipped up in life a while back though. Nothing like violence or alcoholism. I just let bitterness take hold, got arrogant--proud. And so stumbled.

Spoke MY mind too

From the blog "Subtle Revolution"

Drama

Sometimes I feel like a spectator of my own life. Seconds, hours, even days flitter away as quickly as cut-scenes in a film. The actor can't seem to remember his lines and his timing is all off. Try as I might to shout out his cues, he just doesn't understand the scene that blazes by unabatedly. Day in and day out the potential for excellence lies dormant as mediocrity continues to push forward into prevalence. Nothing seems right, but it seems too late to make a change. There's no intermission to use- no opportunity to regroup- no chance to stop and get straight. Every aspect to the grand performance surrounding this man progresses with beauty and sense and poise. But this man... this man plods along through his self-induced haze- out of sync, out of tune, out of touch, running out of time to get his act together.



(Crazy feeling when I read this. This could have been me writing this. -Dusk)

Michael Mata said...

I know the feling, boy do I know the feeling!

Gregg said...

Thanks for the read and the comment. It coudln't have come at a better time. I was on the verge of deleting my blog because I thought I was the only one reading it!

Keep writing. I'm enjoying reading your persepctives on life.

If I recall, Gregg bears the meaning of "a vigilant watchman." Correct?

Sergey Marshennikov

This artist is to be appreciated. I hope none of you are shy about this. If you find this art injurious to your conscience, I'd like to add insult to injury: you're an idiot.

Look at the way he captures the flesh tones, light falling on various textures, THE various textures, their hair, while enhancing and maintaining the sense of beauty and innocence.






I finally tracked down a site to view his works.

Phrygian Dominant; I wish this guy posted more often...

nothing more than feelings

You know that feeling you get

D
E
E
P

down in the pit of your stomach where you kno
w something is wrong but you can't quite plac
e it or put a name to it. It's right on the tip of
your tongue, just begging to be spoken but it
won't come out. Like a time lapse in your mem
ory that skips over the second that you need t
o remember what it is that you are thinking? T
he more you think about it the more it eludes
you, slipping through your fingers; dirt in a gar
den of thoughts, all labels for your dreams and
fantasies and thoughts but the handful that yo
u are grasping for is falling out between the cr
acks. The word, if you could just think of it wo
uld set you free, put your mind at ease but ins
tead feels like sleep-matted hair being brushe
d the wrong way. You know that feeling?

That's me.

Posted by Phrygian Dominant Sept.11, 2207

What's Eating Dusk Watchman

I'm not sure what to write. I'm worried. So worried... But what am I worried about? What's eating me all the time? We're doing quite well with finances as of late. Apartment is rather organized, if not clean.

Why don't I want a family of my own? I don't want a career. I don't want the house we'll be able to get finally, this year. I look forward to teaching my son or daughter in the future, but I don't look forward to coming home to my wife. It's not just her I don't think. I don't think I would like coming home to ANYBODY. I want to be Alone. To be able to have complete control over when I have to see someone. My wife, my friends, my future children. My boss and fellow workers.

But that's not acceptable. Not socially, not scripturally. Do I merely need more Alone time? How much? How often? How long? Is it safe to schedule it?

Clearly, work nights aren't available. Saturday night would be foolish not long before it became selfish. Friday night? Even with school Saturday morning, as life is at the moment, I only have to be awake enough to take notes.

Friday night seems safe. Now, about a bedtime. Should there be one? I don't think so. I think that sometimes I'll need more or less time than others. I can gauge myself by how late I find myself staying up. More, we all already look forward to Fridays anyway. Now I'll actually have a reason to.

I can do whatever I want, within reason. Bills, blogging, Stumbling through sites. Perhaps even a movie. If I weren't so introverted, I might think about a bar, but over three reasons not to ever do that instantly flash into my mind.


----------------
Now playing: Nine Inch Nails - Every Day Is Exactly The Same (Sam Fog vs. Carlos D Mix)
via FoxyTunes

Absolutely Fantastic

Somehow, I'm in a fine mood. I've been in a fine mood almost all day. I'd like to think it's because of something as simple as drinking alcohol last night; but alas, it's something not so "simple" to maintain. My mood changed after I remembered how much I hated my former job contrasted with how much I miss it. I recalled that this process seems to be my modus operandi when it comes to just about anything long term. I start off all dazzle-eyed with high hopes only to have them dashed to pieces by my perfectionism and general disdain for the majority of humanity.

I post this in hopes that I will draw strength and inspiration from this introspection. And, cynic that I am, I truly fear that this “fine mood” will be harder to maintain with fine thought than with fine tequila.

Once Again, D:

I MUST STOP HATING THE PRESENT ( IT IS TANTAMOUNT TO HATING LIFE).
DON'T REGRET IT LATER AS YOU THINK FOND THOUGHTS OF THE PAST.
TO COMPLETE THE TRIAD: THIS WILL EMPOWER YOU FOR THE FUTURE