2012年6月2日 The Amidah

Standing and praying is something I enjoy.

At least until my knee is fucking burning from arthritic pain to the point where I can't concentrate.

I hate it when I can't concentrate because of the pain.

There have been times in my life where pain has literally made whatever I've done uncomfortable to the point where I can't concentrate or perform a task. Whether it's concentration, listening, talking with someone, sex, motorcycling, etc. pain somehow makes doing those things so difficult I almost can't hear anything.

It's miserable.

2012年5月28日 A Japanese artist

Japanese man cooks, serves own genitals

(AFP) – 3 days ago

TOKYO — A Japanese artist cooked his own genitals and served them to five paying diners in Tokyo to cover the medical costs, in a bizarre act to raise awareness about sexual minorities. 

Mao Sugiyama had his penis and testicles surgically removed in March and kept them frozen for two months before dishing them out -- seasoned and braised -- to customers at an event hall on May 13, according to postings on his Twitter account and local police. 

Diners paid 20,000 yen ($250) for the plate with a portion of genitals. Pictures published on a website appeared to show the meal came complete with mushrooms and a parsley garnish. 

thawing out the goods

The painter, who is reportedly 22, said on Twitter the organ had been removed by a physician and certified to be free of infections. 

The meal was prepared under the supervision of a certified cook and diners were required to sign a waiver indemnifying Sugiyama and event organizers. 

In May 18 tweets, the artist said steps were taken so the act met all relevant laws, including a ban on organ sales, processing of medical waste and even food sanitation requirements. 

"I receive questions from some women and men... asking 'Will there be a next time? Please host it again.' But there is only one set of male organ," he tweeted on May 16. "Unfortunately, I have no plan for the next time."

Uh? No shit. Unless he finds volunteers...
Never mind that, let's not give this guy any more ideas.

Sugiyama, who considers himself "asexual", that is without gender, initially thought about eating the genitals himself, but decided to solicit paying customers to help pay his hospital bills for the surgery. 

In an email to AFP, he confirmed the event had taken place and said it was organised to raise awareness about "sexual minorities, x-gender, asexual people". He said he was readying to publish an official account of the day. 

From left to right: testicle, scrotum, and penis

Police in Tokyo said they knew of the episode, but added that it had not broken the law as cannibalism was not illegal in Japan. 

"We are aware of the case. There was nothing (criminal) to it. It does not violate any detailed rules. There is nothing to take action about," an officer at Suginami police station told AFP.

Copyright © 2012 AFP. All rights reserved

Holy shit, that's fucking insane.

Repugnant, but this is also kind of funny since cannibalism isn't illegal in Japan. And probably won't be anytime soon... I've always wondered about the population decline in Japan, and I guess I'll cough vomit it up to self-dismemberment and eating one's own spawn.

What the above article doesn't mention is his month long sex-binge. You can read the real details in the article below.

More info here at: 

http://calorielab.com/news/2012/05/17/tokyo-ham-cybele-human-genital-banquet-not-illegal/

This takes circumcision to the next level.

2012年5月23日 Starvation

While I'm not going to discuss how starvation feels when it's happened in my life, I will discuss Krimull's. 

"Ever been so hungry you could eat the asshole out of an elephant? 

All I've had in the past 24 hours is a butter finger, a shitty brownie, and a breakfast burrito that tasted so bad, I had to finger my ass and lick my finger to get the taste out of my mouth." - Krimull [emphasis mine]

Asshole of an elephant.
Fingering assholes, and licking it.

Wow.

2012年5月17日 Castles, houses, and bodies

Uwajima-jo
(Uwajima Castle)
Quite modest

For a long time I have wanted to build a castle. Sometimes I've given up on that dream, but I still go back to that dream. Whether it's a small castle or Japanese yagura (castle keep) sized structure, I will make sure this dream becomes a reality or die trying.

Our own health, be it mental or emotional, is like a building. We can be grand, with kingly halls, wide with great open spaces, or a garage. The former while probably beautiful, might have nothing  inside, whereas the garage may be filled with all kinds of exotic things. One honestly has to figure out how far one is willing to go for X or Y thing, stuff, feeling, emotion, experiences, and/or intelligence. But let's be honest, we know it's easy to manufacture a house (a life) quickly and cheaply. 

Some people might say that manufactured houses are convenient and comfortable, which they are in a fleeting way. Kind of like swimming in a shallow pool: it will never offer the depth and richness of what the ocean offers. Of course the ocean also has it's own price-tag: it's fucking dangerous, has sharks, and hundreds of thousands of garbage, animal semen, real seamen, and annoying fucking tourists.

So, is a manufactured house for me?

No thanks.

For you?

I have no idea.

I'm hiring this guy for
the construction

When it comes to building oneself on the inside or building something on the outside, it's important, extremely important that one makes sure he or she is using the right tools, resources, and efficient labor. Yes, it might be expensive, but we're talking about one's own life. And life happens to be the home for one's character. With cheap and inexpensive products, while convenient and quickly accomplishing a structure still doesn't help a person in the long run, unless they have zero expectations. That means being happy or sad is trivial, but within that kind of mentality why would anyone choose to build THEIR home or dream in such a manner? Committing to a cause or an idea is not something anyone can do without expectations.

We've heard someone fantasizing before, in one form or another, but usually it sounds like this,

"I want to be an gold medal Olympian, but I don't want to work that hard (make those kind of sacrifices etc....)". 

These kinds of people have already committed towards giving up. In fact just fantasizing about the gold medal and not even pursuing is worse than masturbation, - though with I see nothing wrong with real masturbation, so long as people admit to knowing that they're just fucking themselves, which is what masturbation is! But I'm starting to ramble a bit...

Where does this kind of mentality come from? I think it comes from examples like this one, 

"Maybe I should give my seat up for that old person?" 

I'm sure you've thought about something like that before, and then same voice - hopefully your own - commends you for being a good person for having that thought of kindness, even though you did absolutely nothing. 

This kind of action is also done with people trying to lose weight, "I'm working on losing weight!" or "I'm going on a diet!" As soon as the dieter hears, "Good for you!" or "Keep it up!" they pretty much yield to the compliment as if they've really accomplished something, when in reality they've just opened their mouth, which may also explain how they became over-weight.

Another problem is that we - yes, I'm also included in we, - seem to ignore (or forget) that our individual needs. These needs often must be met by specific resources. Food in a sense is a more basic aspect of this concept. If you don't eat, your house (as your body) gets weak, shoddy, and very well may end up dilapidated. If you eat too much, or fill your house with useless things you take room away from nutrients you need and from people who love you.

So why don't we really take more time with ourselves? Looking for our own individual parts, looking for the correct laborers before we build ourselves up? For me I constantly have to add, subtract, multiply, divide, rebuild and look at and for new solutions. I almost never find myself completely content, and when I do it just seems like I'm ignoring reality. The latter of that is especially true for me when I'm happy in a relationship, I seem to ignore everything/something is wrong and/or could go wrong, because I'm high as the sky on rainbows and love. But we all know the "The Winner Loses" (see Body Count), especially if we're trying to be higher than the sky.

No one gets in for free. 

No house worth spending the rest of one's life in should be built with shoddy craftsmanship, especially when we're our own foreman and laborer! No one gets to get in for free, as even we have our own price tags on and with ourselves. Even more so when the house is our soul. 

No one gets in for free, as we can only make so many seats, beds, and rooms in our own "house." Hold tight, and never givin' up is one way. The wise will tell you too that it is never easy. If it were easy, you took short-cuts. Why would you want to take short cuts on materials when building your own house?

As for real modern castles, over the past 5 years I have been enjoying the construction details of Dupont Castle, as seen here http://www.dupontcastle.com/

2012年4月27日 "Does that mean you've got to lose?"

I was talking to him over the phone about what happened with my sister, and that's when he started to verbally hunt against my mom.

"You know your sister learns that kind of shit from your mother."

Deer season has officially opened. I thought.

"You know it's funny you say that about her, she's actually changed. I mean, we have strong evidence that for the last 5 years she's been completely sober.

So let me ask you this, what have you done? Have you quit drinking? Have you changed at all? No, no you haven't. But that's the thing, you don't need to change.
You know who you are, don't you?

I paused just briefly enough to switch back on him.

My mom, needed to change, but she had to find that on her own.
Speaking of which, have you ever thought about suicide?"

I said reflecting his own judgement and standards on his own behavior.
Without hesitation in his voice whatsoever I heard an immediate and resounding,

"Yes."

I was caught a little off guard, because the same man who accused my mother's background as the reason for my sister's desire for suicide, also had thought about suicide on his own. Albeit his reasons for such seemed to be more shame based, according to what he said after that. But frankly speaking, anyone who wants to commit suicide, does it because of shame, guilt, fear, etc. Fear being a big one.

No, I suppose I wasn't really caught off guard by that alone. I was primarily caught off guard because of the directness. The full-blown honesty that didn't carry an in-your-face attitude or "none of your business". It made me feel like he's come full circle, or damn it, he's trying and has no choice but to advance. Maybe he learned something, something he didn't say. Something I didn't pick up.

I should probably call him again if I want to know.

2012年4月26日 Suicidin'

Three days ago I saved a quote that I thought I was going to use for a blog post title,

"Everyone loves you, when you're about to die"

I guess I felt "Suicidin'" to be a better title.

 

Last night I found out my sister was in the ICU of a local hospital, because she tried to commit suicide by OD on medicine. It's kind of annoying and alien. I don't mean annoying because my sister in the hospital. No. It's alien she's in the hospital and I don't really feel anything. It's annoying to me that I don't feel anything. Maybe it's because I'm dealing with my own self-misery and unhappiness? Who knows? At present I'm not trying to figure that out, nor do I need to. 

But one thing is for certain and that is I'm not doing well, and I would be lying if I hadn't thought about these issues at least once over the past couple of months jokingly or otherwise.

What's frustrating is that I don't always have the appropriate medium to talk about these issues. I don't have anyone right now to talk about how I feel about my sister trying to kill herself. I don't always, or don't, have access to the friends and people I'd like to talk to when shit like this happens. Shit like this happens, and I'm just dealing with it until the weekend when I can unload it all. If I can. Why should I have to wait until the weekend? Well, I'm single and all of my friends have jobs, families, and/or are in other states. 

I actually don't think companionship would really change anything, because I'd probably have some whiny bitch telling me to to stop worrying about it, or to just stop talking about it. Neither of which is realistically going to happen when I'm concerned or excited about something. 

I'm a talker, and to talk about, at, and through things is important to me, unless I white-out or faint because I'm being stabs by needles. Surely most of my friends know that, and most of them would think of it as odd or extremely depressing if I were to mope around in silence.

She's alien to me. That's the worse part about this situation. She has a family, a husband, and two kids. Even then, she tried to kill herself. She's so alien to me, that the only way I can relate is to deviate from her as the subject and relegate her position to that as a point of reference, while I talk about what I'm interested in or my experiences, etc.  

I don't really know her that well, and maybe that's the problem. Actually, I don't think it's a problem, because at this point I don't know her and to know her is like getting to know a stranger that I'm sure I won't always get along with (and I don't mean general disagreements). I've tried. It's like talking with distant cousins for the first time in years. "Uh... I don't really know who you are anymore..."

I guess if I were to say there is a lesson, the lesson is that a family, a home, and children might not be enough. Certainly for my sister it's not enough, even though everyone else might say, "Family matters a lot!" Compared to what? Compared to wanting to die? Compared to freedom from pain? Family members are just people that, no bullshit, could or will end up hating you or leaving you. I've seen countless families where fathers abandon their sons and daughters. Daughters and sons hate their miserable mothers. Even if those things don't happen the sons or daughters end up hating or cursing their parents anyhow. Loved too much, or too little. Too high of expectations, too little? Too much value on career, and not enough on character? These things happen regardless of whether or not I see them or write about it.

So why are we here anyway?
You might not want to ask me right now.

2012年4月14日 Cruelty

"It's a trap. I'm a trap"

Fuck the grammar, the typos, the run-on and off sentences. Fuck it, fuck me, fuck it. Let's just get down to the brass tacks of the issue.

I can be an extremely cruel person, in fact, I'm quite good at it.

Don't confuse that with pride. 

I'm not proud by any means, even if I'm good at it.

I hate it, and it makes me want to die.

I was asked by a family member something semi-personal, I asked them "Why?" 

They said, "Because I just want to know." 

I responded by openly reflecting on their past behavior, "Well, I want to know why you abandoned my brother and I for a complete stranger and his kids." 

"You know what-- just get out. I'm done."

This is somewhat unintentional and on auto-mode. But if I said it was completely unintentional I would be lying, what I mean to say is that it's me not making a huge effort other than breathing. I can help it. I could help that. I'm not trying hard or making a strong effort with that kind of cruelty and that's example I wanted to point out of that specific situation.

***

As I said, I didn't even have to try. I wasn't trying (hard) to be cruel with that response. I just found a file in my brain, scanned for whatever was the most efficient at defusing the situation from myself and bringing it up into the hypothetical realm. I wasn't angry when I asked what I asked or defensive. After the data was found, I pulled out mental mirror. I pulled it out even though it would not make the situation better. When this mirror of open-reflection-on-emotions-or-memories-that-suck is pulled out, things do not generally go well for anyone. Most people know what pains them, I find it, and remind them. 

And most of those people are not equipped to openly assess their problems, unless they are in a private room with a therapist.

So what happens when I'm trying or when don't smile?

--Fuck it doesn't even matter if I'm smiling or not!! If I'm trying, it's just fucking worse!

The following, until the end, is an open assessment of that.

I end up being the one who breaks everything. Someone may break something in their life, with or without me, and when this happens sometimes I come out and make things extremely difficult. I do this by showing them all the skeletons in their closet. Many of which they are unable to come to terms with or even knew of in the first place. Shoving it all in their emotional face, all the pain that was supposed to be gone. I bring it all back. The details, the details are the pain. And I investigate it all.

In most cases, it's not because I'm being vengeful. I bring it back as reference, as if it's just an example to a math problem. So casually, so calmly, very cruel. But what happens when it's not calm or casual?

My skill is fucking disgusting, painful, and feels VERY bad when used in a non-casual way.

But like the men and women I love: love is like roses, so it goes without saying that love doesn't come without thorns. Love has a price-tag, but love is never negotiable. If I want love, I take a risk (and that's the price tag), but I can't negotiate love because I'm afraid of the risk. Because then it negates love. That's when I got cruel. I made a, the terrible mistake negotiating hope, love, and faith. And I got cruel when I didn't get what I wanted.

I wasn't violent: I was cruelty incarnate.

An injured sparrow landed  on my hand, I tried help it as it talked to me. When it got scared, and I started to scare it, the sparrow  bit me unconsciously. I started to crush it. It didn't know any better, or if it did, I tried to crush it anyhow. I have done this to a person! I have expressed cruelty to a person. I hurt them, even though they were hurting another and wanted to stop, but couldn't or wasn't ready. Even when they knew something was wrong, and needed help with their problem, I hurt them. I hurt them effectively, and efficiently. Instead of effectively helping them efficiently. I turned my back on the lighthouse I was in charge of, letting them crash on their own rocks, and guiding them into pain. It was a terrible thing. I'm a terrible thing! And it got me thinking again about something I thought I could file away even from myself...

At that moment I was a disgustingly cruel person. And I reflected all the cruelty I saw and felt onto a person only asking for help (albeit probably not in the best way), from all the angles that I could. I applied cruelty from all hypothetical positions, from the daughter to the mother. Again, I played all angles, all stops were gone, and went as far as I could. The problem is that there isn't a limit to cruelty. And it knew it.

What was that file I put away?
If all I do is cause pain, and abuse my power, why am I even here?
If everything I touch bleeds because of my own negligence, why should I even participate in life?

It was a type of punishment on that person. The last time, someone came to me with hesitation, we broke up 24 hours later. I had no idea she was going to leave me so suddenly. Without any warning, no big fight, nothing. Our last meeting as a couple, while short was so nice. She got me flowers, a smile, a hug, everything, but enthusiasm. 

"Will you spend the night?" 

"... No, I'm just tired from work..." 

"I love you, don't work so hard!" I said. 

24 hours later, she had broken up with me. When hesitation came back again into my life, from someone else, I struck hard and fast with cruelty. I wasn't just going to get hit like that again.

Someone makes a mistake, hesitates, causes pain intentionally or accidentally, and instead of coming out with a helping hand at some point I pull the mirror. I use it on everyone, all those who are weak, innocent, guilty, and strong. And I use it until submission. Until the pain causes them to shutdown, and when that happens I use it even more, because I see the submission as an escape. I don't quit until their own reflection bleeds them. Although sometimes I did, I would even stand in front the mirror and project my skeletons onto someone else. Sometimes there isn't a submission. Sometimes someone looks beyond the mirror, and sees only that I'm holding a mirror. Some people just look at see me, holding information. And they look beyond me, and they look at the future. Those people are untouchable against that kind of cruelty. Few can do it. I have brought great shame on myself for finding those people when I used a mirror that way. I have brought greater shame on me from those who couldn't.

***

The coffee reminded me that I have a wonderful skill, and I'm using it in the wrong way.

And I'm using it in the wrong way because I'm hating myself, because of fear.

I'm the man who shows you how to hurt yourself when you say you want to hurt yourself. 

I'm the man who wants to drink with you when you want to get drunk.

I'm the man who wants to smile with you when you want to feel better. 

I'm the man who hurts you when you hurt others, or you hurt yourself.

I'm the man who wants to love you, when you hate yourself.
I'm the man who wants to hate you, when you love yourself.

I'm the man who wants to love you, when you love yourself.

I'm the man who wants to hate you, when you hate yourself.

I'm the man who loves you, when you come for love.

I'm the man who shows you hate, when you come for love.

I'm the man who shows you love, when you come for hate.

I'm the man who shows you a shadow, when you come for the man.

I'm the shadow of a man, when I turn off the lights.

I'm the man who loves children, yet jokes about kicking them down stairs.
I'm the man in pain, but smiles anyway.
I'm the man who is angry, yet happy anyway.

I'm the man who holds the door open for you. And I'm the guy kicks you when you're down. 

I shake your hand, I show honest kindness. 

And I also show my cruelty honestly, and its morally wrong, repugnant, and realistically worse than ingesting pig-vomit with intensity. 

When fear takes over, evil flourishes

My dishonesty is when I express that the world is a good place, and we need hope and faith, and yet my moral nihilism tells me nothing matters. My dishonesty is that is that hold a high standard, and yet I wake up sometimes wondering if it matters at all. My dishonesty is my doubt, my fear, and from that fear comes my cruelty.

Every time a new question, a new answer, and a new situation I often find myself re-creating and re-learning to cope with the structures & chaos of and in the world. It's a nightmare sometimes to be my friend. It's a blessing sometimes to be my friend. I'm the worst or the best, in just a few moments, in just a few questions, in just a few answers. Everything is fragile and yet solid. It's all water, ice one moment, mist in another. Bringing clouds, quenching thirst, bringing waves to swim in, and rain to flee from.

It's a nightmare to know that when all a person really needs from me is a hug, a smile, or a glass of water, but all I do sometimes is wait with that mirror. Or those skeletons, and I'm waiting to show you them. Whether it's reminding someone of a song that depresses the fuck out of them, or bringing up something they said eons ago, I wait. I wait in my fear. And sometimes I wait in my love.

It's a terrible thing that I wield both peace and war in both hands, sometimes simultaneously.

It's cruel I can do it with a smile or tears in my eyes.

It's cruel I still exist when I do these cruel things.
It makes me wonder if should die from a Jihad-ist beheading involving sporks and serrated butter knives.

I am not the tax collector of your sins, but sometimes I wear that suit.

When I get home and look into my own mirrors, I remind myself that I also have my own taxes to collect. I hate myself for lying to myself. When the persons in my life I should have been angry at, I let go in peace. Sure, I should have let them go in peace, but I shouldn't have lied to myself about the situation thinking that I shouldn't have been angry. I should have been honest with myself, instead of going for the mirror. 

I shouldn't have been cruel to another or myself, when someone was there to help me. To help me off the ground. Instead I kicked myself. Then one day, I stopped kicking and I got up. Later I offered the same, I offered to help someone up, and when they kicked their body instead of getting up, I kicked them also. God will make me pay for this, and I hope one day, I can learn from this or die trying.

w/o love for anything
or anyone.

So sometimes I wonder if I should pay the ultimate price just to catch up on the interest of my own transgressions. If I paid, would I really be paying the price or is it that cruelty would really win?

What about love? 

Do I even remember love or is it all just fear now? 

Certainly there is hope. Certainly. 

Because I can see it, even though it's just beyond my reach. 

I have to pick one or the other, or I will never have peace and love. 

I will never have complete war and anger. 

I will have only an opportunity for nothing and everything at the same time, but never actually having nothing or everything. It'll just be me at the intersection with the choice.

When will I wake up, instead of punishing others for not waking up?

I can't afford to wait. I can't afford to wait, if I want hope and faith.
I can't afford to wait if I want a life of hope and faith.
I can't afford to be cruel anymore, because the price-tag is too much.

I can't afford to solve my fear alone.

Every available resource at my disposal must be available for them, including my life, or there never will be a recovery from this. Of course, I did offer every available resource before, and when I asked for honesty, it was denied. I applied honesty again, albeit aggressively in a cruel manner. When my (cruel and direct) honesty was not met with honesty other than with anger and hatred, I wondered if this person really wanted help.

Even now I wonder, why weren't my questions answered? Why can't this person express trust?
A mistake is a mistake if the perception of truth was wrong. I.e. "Two times two is five!" The truth is wrong, because the person did not know the truth. But when the person knows the truth saying, "Two times two is five!" Yet the person saying that knows it is not five, certainly we can't say that's a mistake. It's a lie.

I may have been cruel, but a lie is also cruel. Cruelty itself is just cruelty, it can be honest or it can be through deception. Continuing lying and knowing it, is cruel. Dishonesty is cruel as well. Truth can be cruel to those who do not believe in it. :) As someone once said to me, "What's actually changed other than you're the bad guy? As far as I'm concerned you didn't lie about anything and you were honest from the beginning (regardless of being cruel)."

Questions never end. Nor should they.
Not asking or answering questions, raises more and more questions

2012年4月13日 "Knowing it is not enough!"

Me: "I like questions."

Her: "I knooow." She said sounding exhausted from the intensity of having that knowledge. Though I could never imagine a successful relationship from her other than her keeping a mattress warm, it did remind me that in the future if I do have what I believe is a successful relationship, it will be with someone who won't become exhausted from my questions.

I have come to the conclusion that the questions I ask are not what is exhausting, but rather the required brain power of each individual person. What does it matter if they tell me something of great value to them, and I have no influence in their life? What if what I tell them is of no matter and they are of great influence in my life? Wouldn't it be best to tell your greatest achievements to a stranger so that they can't destroy them? How about the opposite? Some would say yes, others would say no. I'm not going to debate which is right or wrong, and I'd digress too much if I did! But she did make that face, that face that says, "I can't think about that." Not because I asked her to, no. But because she cannot think about that with herself. 

Some people can flip a switch and tell you things all day long from an intellectual point of view, but just you wait until their emotions click on. I know at least 3 or 4 women who are able to disregard their emotions and talk without emotions on from their. Most of those women are almost like that 24/7, and it get's a little depressing. It changes though when they get drunk, but most of them almost always try to be in control. As for men like that? I can't imagine more than meeting two in my whole life. But I know they're out there, I have no doubt about that.

I think most would agree that having a balance of both, with oneself, is best. And finding the people who can be around that balance is equally important. So far, I'm doing a good job asking questions with myself, and I can always do better, at least that's how I feel until I'm asleep. Waking up, it begins again. Never turning off. Slowing down, over-heating, too cool, just right, just wrong, but never off. It's off when I'm asleep, unconscious (sleep or something), or death. The latter of which I have yet to experience, but I'll let you know as soon as I find out.

So today, I was reminded of a great movie, which is also more or less a sleeper hit, like Hobo with a Shotgun. Hobo with a Shotgun also has some interesting points, albeit most of them are extremely vulgar. Like a guy wearing ice-skates to kick the shit out of a Hobo with a shotgun.

Anyway, the movie that I was reminded of is called Unthinkable and it's one of the few movies where Samuel L. Jackson plays himself, i.e. not an angry black man, but a reserved man who is philosophical about the procedures of torture, interrogations, and the meaning of life. Seemingly enough he doesn't seem to enjoy what he does, yet he is still good at it.

Quotes of the interrogator:

"None of you understand, we don't stop, until this all checks out. That's the rules. It's my duty to continue.
[...]
Do you believe I can do this? Faith is not enough, he has to know it. KNOWING IT, is not enough! He has to see it." Unthinkable

Torture, interrogation, and difficult questions happen in a lot of shows I like. Not because I like the act of torture, but because torture depending on the application could be considered a challenge. 

For example: After given use of a car for over three years without having to pay for gas, insurance, or maintenance, one would say if someone took it away it would be "torture". One could say that being denied an opportunity to express oneself is torture.

"Every man, no matter how strong he is, lies to himself about something. I will find your lie. I will break you." Unthinkable

And yet, I wonder if we put ourselves in these positions? I'm sure we do, whether or not we are the one applying the challenge or receiving it. Whether it's emotional or physical, we choose to wake up and that's exactly what it is, it's a choice. A choice to participate or not. I choice to do nothing or something. I choice to make things worse or make them better. A choice to stay inside or to go [out] - the latter of which I actually said often in Hebrew and English. In some cases even the torturer is more than just an observer, depending on how the torture affects one, the person applying force might be the one who potentially is challenged the most. It all depends.

And we haven't even gotten around to whether or not torture is wrong, and so far I've evaded this question because for my own observations (in this post) it is a challenge. Most people getting "tortured" or interrogated in the films or shows that I quote have intentionally put themselves in positions where this could happen and they knew it.

"I let myself be caught. [..] I chose to meet my oppressors face-to-face! [...] This is not about me, this is about you!" Unthinkable

And here is another,

Drazi: "...There's nothing I can do."
John: "Yes there is! You can fight, you can refuse to surrender, you can refuse to be broken. You just have to say, 'No I won't.' One more time than they can say, 'Yes you will.'"
Drazi: "Capta--,"
John: "The moment you surrender, you become expendable."
Drazi: "I'm afraid, I've never been afraid before"
John: "We're all afraid. Don't give them what they want. Don't." Babylon 5

And another about challenges,

John: "You're trying to force us to decide which of you is right. You're like a couple of parents arguing in front of their kids, manipulating them, trying to get them to take sides! Not for their benefit, but for yours! But what if the right choice, is not to choose [either one] at all?" Babylon 5

The above quote reminds me that during any challenge a person should or might want to understand who they are under the situation they are experiencing. As the above quote suggests the man above is going to take his side, for his own sake. Similar to children growing up and figuring out what is best for them. Just like a tree before it dies, it has to grow first.

And moreover, sometimes torture/interrogation/pain/challeneges come in active reflection as the below conversation happens to suggest:

G: "The[y] started it."
K: "And will you continue, until there are no more [of you], and no more [of them]? If both sides are dead, no one will care which side deserves the blame. It no longer matters who started it, G [...]. It only matters who is suffering."
G: "No. No, I have an obligation [...]"
K: "And how have you chosen to honor that [..]? What is there left for [you] if all of creation falls around us? There is nothing. No hope, no dream, no future, no life. Unless we turn from the cycle of death toward something greater. If we are a dying people, then let us die with honor, by helping the others as no one else can."
G: "I don't understand."

K: "Because you have let them distract you. Blind you with hate. You cannot see the battle for what it is. We are fighting to save one another. We must realize we are not alone. We rise and fall together. And some of us must be sacrificed if all are to be saved. Because if you fail in this then none of us will be saved, and [you all] will be only a memory.

You have the opportunity here and now to choose, to become something greater and nobler and more difficult than you have been before. [...]"
G: "Why now? Why not earlier? All this time, where have you been?"
K: "I have always been here." Babylon 5

I must say that I do enjoy Babylon 5 because it offers insight to difficult questions in life when we torture, interrogate, or challenge ourselves or another. In most cases in life, unless we're in Cambodia's S-21 prison or death camps in Nazi German or Russia, we're probably just going to put ourselves in positions where we challenge, if not, torture ourselves. 

The sad part is that, even in my own experiences when I reflect, I can't honestly say that I didn't know any better. In most cases, I knew the score, which is another opportunity for me to pitch the movie Heat (1995) to everyone, "He knew the risks, he didn't have to be there. It rains... you get wet." 

I don't have to be anywhere, and even not going anywhere comes with its own price-tag. 

But we know about those* already, don't we?

Is knowing really enough? Do we really have to see the price tag? 

 Sometimes yes, but whether seeing the price tag is torture or embraced, is something that is entirely up to the individual. As an individual.

*2012年3月20日 Price Tags (URL)

2012年4月8日 Arthritis and emotions

PVNS, feels like

I honestly think that there is a seriously correlation between how I feel and pain in my knee. Sometimes my emotions increase or decrease pain, and I suppose that's why Oregon has medical marijuana. Frankly speaking my knee will do what it wants regardless of how I feel sometimes.

Today, it more or less faired well, compared to this evening, where the burning and general emotional disgust took over. I feel like bashing my head into a wall when it gets that deep. Sometimes the pain is so much I want to scream out loud while crying in complete horror. Just like this chick here (URL, starts at 14:17). I think once Wainwright heard me in my room once groaning from intense physical pain, although he thought I was waxing my carrot at the time.

The burning is endless. It's always there. It's fucking disgusting. It's worse when I see people look at me like they're sorry. I almost want to vomit on them, since they make the same faces that homeless people make, the "No cure, no hope, no way to change" kind of face. Desperation does that to people regardless of whether or not they're burning from arthritic pain, emotional, or the shame in being a hobo. Maybe one could have all three? Hopefully, a person isn't in that kind of position, because without hope or change/progression it's so fucking disgusting. At that point there is No Reason To Live.

Thankfully, I have hope. Because I know realistically there is no cure, and the best thing I can do is endure pain, because life does get better with pain, once I harness it. When pain becomes the master, a person is truly fucked. At least until they overcome it.

2012年3月30日 Women and sleep

Watch the fuck out!

The other day Krimull sent me a message about his wife playing some kind of joke on him while he's asleep or slowly waking up. 

First, I should say that KRIMULL IS NOT A MORNING PERSON.  I know this pretty well, when we were younger I'd try to open blinds and take his blanket. That guy was worse than a 14 year old girl on her period. How he reacted more than that, or how it's possible I have no idea. To this day the only conclusion I have is that he was roiding out.

Second, being married is like saying, "Today put my nuts in the blender." Okay not all (92.23 ± 5 %) marriages are like that.  If his marriage was puppy dogs and rainbows he wouldn't have told me what he told me! In all seriousness, I'm sure things are fine. Most shit like this happens when people are bored, kind of like the time he used a bullhorn to wake me up... That mother fuc Kids will be kids.

On a side note, he has 5 dogs, so there must be a serious fucking shortage of rainbows.

Anyway, here's what he said,  

"She's pissed off at me because she woke me up with to she me a bike light and shined it in my eye right as I woke up. And ignored her when I woke up and went to work."

So tonight when he goes home, I hope he's bringing home chocolate or ice-cream. Because unless it's resolved, I have a feeling that next time his wife will go all Kathy Bates in Misery on him.

Kathy Bates in Misery

"God, I love you."

2012年3月27日 "All wishes"

I saw a Depeche Mode t-shirt which gave me an urge to listen to some. Bad idea. 

Instead I ended up listening to Lacuna Coil - a band I've seen live, but sounds waaay better in the studio. Their cover of "Enjoy the Silence" (URL here) makes me want to cut myself while crying in a bathtub with the shower on hot. Hello Tuesday afternoon...

As I spend part of this week overcoming frustration, doubt, and grey skies I wonder. I wonder about money, life, the future and what it means. What's important? At this point in my life, I actually don't think money is important. I really don't, yes it helps with goals or tasks. But does money actually make dreams come true? If money does make dreams come true why aren't some of the richest people in America or anywhere else in the world happy? How come rich people get grey hair or frown? If I had a lot of money I would probably blow all of it on prostitutes. I've always had this fantasy of using hookers for life-sized chess games...

Anyhow, I think Ms. Woelke over at Shearim blog has it more or less figured out, at least for herself and certain aspects of my feelings,

All wishes will never be fulfilled

Every human being on this planet has desires, wishes and expectations. There is a theory in psychology that unfulfilled expectations can cause depression. Not all our wishes are being fulfilled. Thta's life and G – d alone decides what we get, what we don’t get and where we succeed or fail. 

Most people only seem to concentrate on material things instead of looking at the spiritual side. Let me tell you one thing from experience: Money doesn’t make you happy ! What money does is providing you a secure life without any worries about paying the rent. However, money won’t give you joy but more sorrows. Just wait until the tax authorities will come after you. [sic] - M. Woelke

Right now doing what I love is important, and while I'm not completely there yet I'm working on it. Being around those I love also is part, if not the most important part of that. And I'm getting that more or less. Even if they aren't around when I need them or want them, am I unloved? Unloved? Probably not. Of course it also depends on why I'm loved. Do they care because they give love? Or do they give love because they care? 

Once again the rain picks up outside and all I'm left with is myself, for now, and those who want to stick around. Just like I stick around with them. So when I read "All wishes..." I often remember the phrase, "A friend to all, is a friend to none". We have to make choices.

2012年2月28日 T4T: "Just whispers...

that wait for you to sleep

And when you dream,
We'll come for you and breathe in your pain"

 "Gimme a pack of that then." 

"The wrong word
When you cry,
I will be" -
voices in my dream

 Over the past 2 or 5 days I have been feeling arthritic pain that sucks terribly. Of course drinking again hasn't helped, and my knee has made me feel miserable. Knee in pain, pain beyond the physical, boredom, and my heart and sole. Maybe it's because of the cheap shoes? Maybe I need a more expensive pair to support my knee and sole. Maybe it's all the nightmares. Maybe it's the dreams I'm having: the ones I can't talk about.

***

2011年12月1日 Hiatus

Things in life right now are truly repugnant and depressing.
Life has become a possibly mendable, but broken-arrow.

I will try to come back to this when I can. If I can't, then things are really bad.

2011年11月10日 Eating alone

I hate eating alone. Look at those two over there.

Look at them.
I don't like how they stop smiling

when they look at me.

Reminding me that I'm eating alone.
Are they frowning at me 

because I'm sitting alone? 

I hate this. 

Why did they bother? 

To stop smiling?

The food is tasting less and less 

like food everyday. 

Would company change that?
I hate sitting here, 

this is taking too long. 

Take a bite. 

Okay.
Now, get up 

and walk around. 

Okay.
Eat and move. 

Wait what? That's what people do

when they're rushed in life!

Sit down 

and enjoy the meal. 

But I'll be sitting alone. 

Oh, I hate this. 

I need to distract myself while eating.
Huddle in front of the computer. 

Huddle in front of the TV.
Don't waste time thinking 

about the food you prepared, 

it's not going to give you any compliments.
Wait who is that? 

Isn't she in your class? 

I bet she's a bitch. 

Look how she doesn't smile.
How can she look unhappy 

and look so well? 

I bet she eats alone too! 

Maybe not in person, 

but certainly

in that ice-box, 

called a heart of hers. 

What about your ice-box? 

I keep the liquor there, 

it keeps me from thinking about 

being alone. 

Oh! But what to do?! 

 I'm here outside alone! 

Children are coming!
Watching their incredulous faces mutating 

at everything they look at! 

It distracts me so! 

This is wonderful! 

I can see the magic

it's on their faces, 

and I can looked incredulously too! 

Oh, wait now, wait now! Don't go! Damnit, look how they

all hold hands with nice uniformity, 

as if they're little ducklings following a mother goose 

who in actuality is a semi-chubby hipster, leading them away. 

Oh damn it! 

You're alone again.

Stop thinking those things.

Parve tuna, 

talk to me. 

Relish, you too, 

talk to me. 

You taste kind of sweet. 

But now, bland. 

No, you're bland! And the banality 

of your incredible ability to ramble 

is giving me mercury poisoning!

Why couldn't I be a carrot?!  

Silence relish! 

Oh how I relish, 

in silencing relish.

Eating alone, oh, 

I hate this. 

I have to sit alone 

to eat alone, 

and live alone 

to eat alone?

How can anyone do this 

for such a long time? 

How can anyone 

want to do this?
Who is that, over there? 

Why do they look on 

the ground for such a long time?
Has their neck broken 

into this downward position? 

Did they cower 

for such a long time 

it is now stuck?

I see a woman, or girl rather, 

with blonde hair. 

It looks like fine strands of silk, 

evenly cut. Oh! Oh!
I would skip eating lunch 

altogether to touch 

and compliment it! 

Wa-wait!

Her eyes look down, 

but they look forward. 

How do you do that?
Why do you do that?!

I suppose she is,
eating lunch alone too.

2011年10月22日 The nights on Night

Maybe tonight, I will go for a drive? And take in the Night?
It calls me these days. It misses me, and I miss it.
It asks me not to drink. It asks me not to smoke.
And so I try to do less. And I try to do none at all.
And nothing is easy when you do it alone, nothing at all.
Sometimes it asks me things, and tells me things.

And yet, it leaves with the coming specters of colored dark shades.
It leaves with the purple, and the marmalade colors of orange in yellow.
It leaves with the pink. Oh the pink!
It's so pretty in pink. But it leaves me at times
To deal with itself, in the night. In the dark
Just as I deal with myself.
Could I bring tonight to Night?

And the Night comes for me everyday.
And sometimes it wants to talk to me without words.
And I talk to it, with the windows down and the radio on as I drive.
I looked at the stars, and I saw three of them.

I knew the Night was calling.
I knew the Night was young,
And yet as soon as it would begin
it would be old. But as it got old,
I loved it more. I loved its sincerity.
And I did not want to go away.

I did not want to go back to sleep.
I prayed for wings.

I did not need the sleep,
the wings, ideas of escape.
I could put on airs about myself and others with words.
I could hide away in the night. I could hide in the day.
The Night could hide away in the night. It could hide away in itself.
Just like I could. Just like we could.

But when it was done. And I step out of the car, I would still hear,
I would still hear the Night and see the night.
And I would still be myself.
And myself was telling me to do another lap, to continue driving.
To continue thinking.
To continue wondering about the maker of the night.
The Night and I thought about God, who created the light.
Maybe the Night and I will think about it together tonight?
Maybe we will say nothing.

When I step out of the car, and I walk inside
I forget sometimes that I take the Night with me,
and that very night follows me inside.
Follows me throughout my day. In the day even!
I wonder if the Night took a part of me?

I suppose that's a thought for another night.
On another drive. Onto where the tears of bourbon,
and where the breath of cigars, could not come.

It would be where we allow
the other things, the following things
to wash over everything else,
pulling the towers of knowledge into the sea,
only to push back debris.

We'd never escape the water, and
these feelings of spiritual issues and pain.
And to escape would be no different
than crying in the rain. Wouldn't it?
But I wasn't alone, not tonight.
Not tonight, as I stepped out into it,
looking up.

2011年10月18日 Dampers

I was flying at around a low seventy plus. The road was clear, along with black morning sky. Stars were still out, and while I maintained some degree of insecurity within myself, I felt relatively safe in the car. 

Just safe enough.

But would it really be such?

When I parked I sat in the car for about 15 minutes to listen to more music. Windows up I watched nothing in particular. When I got out of the car I remembered a conversation I had with a professor within the previous day.

Or was it another day?

We battled wits, albeit his superior to mine, and not without my reverence towards him for even wanting to talk about certain issues. Suicide was addressed. Unlike other conversations I've had to either justify or demonize such, he concluded the dialog with something like, "In Noh, when one's soul is floating around it isn't important anymore to that soul in question whether or not they died valiantly on the battle, how they lived in life, or how they committed suicide. What matters is how they'll stand in front of Buddha before he sends them to where they ought to be, because the soul is more important than any of that."

Isn't it? Isn't it supposed to be most important?

Why not?

So I left my regular area of operations. I avoided the issues I wanted to address. I avoided the work, and I avoided my thoughts, myself, and I avoided my soul.

I sat down on a wood chair, and began to adjust my emotional and spiritual dampers to 70%. Instruments were all accounted for. Flight two-zero-niner cleared for vector three-two-four. Roger. I tapped my fingers on the small wood table in front of me and contemplated.

Would you mind if I had the controls?

I've got it from here. I said. Lying to myself as I leaned back in my chair.
Roger, switching to auto-pilot.  

I looked down at the table in front of me. When I reached out, my hand felt cold again.

2011年10月15日 Anger 'n' stuff

Today with קבע (Keva), or rather עשה תורתך קבע, I realized that when asking someone for forgiveness it also depends on whether or not that person is capable of forgiveness.

Sfat Emet (Yehuda Aryeh Leib 1847-1905) Poland 

The commandment of sukkah comes after the Day of Atonement. It is said that "only your sins (wrong-doings) separate you from your G-d" (Is. 59.2). So now that they have been purified of sin, the separation has been taken away. Some sins cause separation of the unity of the person and his fellow-man; this is "separate you" in the limited sense. Other bring about separation between man and G-d.

On Sukkot all becomes one and all the souls of Israel unite. This is pointed to by the four species [representing various types of souls,] all joined in one grouping. And the sukkah joins the souls of Israel to be one with their Father in Heaven. That is why it is called "the holiday of ingathering."

5:236

Yesterday on Friday, before shabbat began, I tried to meet someone I haven't met in several months. Maybe five or six. My intention was to apologize. He didn't show. I started thinking about why he wouldn't show up. Anger most likely.

I remember writing about him a lot, and talking about his anger as a weakness. I thought about two things he specified to me in an email,

"I know more than you think about this whole situation, and I know that you just wish I wasn't a part of the equation."

He never talked with me about such. And when he did it was practically a month or so after the fact, by then I had more or less moved on. And to say he knows what I wish for? How does he know what I want? Did he know what I wanted him to forgive me and let go of his hate? Does he know what I've been saying for well over a year and then some? Does he know that due my insistence on a certain issue, according to someone else, he has something special with someone?

And,

"I can go on about it, but I'm not interested in 'discussing' this any further. I tried, I really did, to give you a few shots."

Uh? Yeah maybe... No. No he didn't. In fact, even this last message from him, still had the same ol' three week plus delay to it. I more or less gave up too, which was my fault and giving up was a mistake. I had my reasons. His anger for one. Absolutely no progress would be made if he decided to justify his anger. Vengeance isn't justice. And at the same time, I was kind of hoping for it. That's why I wanted to meet him yesterday. I wanted to explain to him, that there are many things in life that I could give a rats ass for, money, life, shelter, etc. I didn't need those things at all.

Drinking?
Problem solved

I wasn't born with a good family. But when I got to pick my own I started to feel there is a higher degree responsibility to that, one where I would unconditionally try to be there for my created family of friends, regardless of what happens. Did I want to be forgiven? Why not? But frankly what bothered me was that his anger was just going to consume him and make him insecure. He'd blame me of course, one hundred percent. I'm used to taking that kind of heat. Though I am bothered he didn't show up. And though I wanted to ask, I couldn't ask him if he felt he needed his anger or not, to feel like a better person or whatever his reasons were.

Distractions continued this morning while praying when I thought about how his anger would get in the way of his "heart and soul." How can anyone really love someone with all their heart and soul and still feel comfortable enough to have room for anger and wrath? Is it really love at that point or just greed? 

No fucking point in being here.

Part of me knew that him coming to meet me yesterday would have been extremely hard for him. I wonder if I could have said something, in some manner, to make him violent? It would have proven my case, and it would have made me right. But I don't like being right about these kind of things, and I'm usually disappointed that my theories on certain issues have the potential to be correct. It almost makes being here, where we live, fucking pointless.

"You'd better feel guilty about not only how you felt about the situation, but what you continued to do even after you knew it was very wrong."

Nothing I can do [...]
would change anything
for him.

I better feel guilty? Actually I feel sorry for him. It's clear by his writing that his anger is unending. Nothing I can do, even if I felt "guilty", would change anything for him. He can barely even mention what was wrong, in fact he almost doesn't. If there were some way for me to apologize so that he could lose his anger from consuming him, I'd be doing it. Outside of suicide, I realize nothing really will stop his anger. But I almost feel like he'd be happy if I did such, just so he could demonize that kind of action further. Without asking him these questions and getting direct answers, I know it's just speculation, just like the stock-market.

It would be easier if there was something that could be done, but really I don't think there can be anything to be done. I can't solve this issue, not alone, and it runs deep. Also, I'm not sure the solution will come unless everyone is on board of the U.S.S. Forgiveness.

At shul, I thought about these things. I thought about how detached I was from my fellow man in my sins, even though the rabbi's wife had just grabbed my hand, pulling me into a large train and soon to be circle of women who were dancing and celebrating. Next time I'll sit where she can't get me so easily. And yet, I wondered about how anger - though wrath is G-d's alone, - can detach us from one another. I felt detached today at shul, just a little bit, but it was enough to say that I am detached. I wonder if people use love as a way to "escape" their anger, rather than letting it go? Finding love to avoid problems at home? Finding love to avoid problems of the heart and mind?

I wonder if that love is actually freedom, or if the love is an escape to avoid hidden wrath? Hidden sins (wrong-doings), while hidden, still detach us from one another. Would there be unity in my life-time? Would I ever be in the gathering of love, without some kind of avarice towards love? I think it's possible, but not for someone like me. I think it's possible to love without avoiding one's truest self with others. To love just enough, unlimited amounts, to where we cannot have hate and anger rule our lives. Anger isn't ours, and as Leviticus 19:18 (NIV) states,

"‘Do not seek revenge or bear a grudge against anyone among your people, but love your neighbor as yourself. I am the LORD [you bitches].

He's not talking about the Barry White kind of love.

So when today finished at shul, I thought about that guy who was hell-bent with anger.

How can anyone genuinely accept an apology of sincerity, if they don't even want to forgive? When I got in the car, the radio came on and my thoughts drifted. Once again had too many questions with few answers. Waiting at the light to turn left onto the highway, my thoughts came back, "They can't." 

So I went home to take a nap.