Trust me, I'm often wrong.

I am not very good at seeing the truth. At best, I am only much-too-slowly getting better at recognizing it as I age, and I'll probably always feel like an infant facing reality until I die. Yet, despite my handicap I love truth, maybe because it is so allusive and unpredictable to me, so I constantly study it through countless trials and errors. But thinking about this weakness in me, I realized that it's actually an arguably helpful and beneficial attribute of my character. I'm a fool, sure, but at least I recognize my ignorance. And admitting that you are always going to be a slow-learner of life establishes quite an honest position to begin with. You can trust me because I'm not going to assume I know something for sure, there-by misleading us both, unless it's obvious to me in my limited (circumstantial) experience that I have the best guess within a reasonable vicinity. It baffles me when I see intelligent people blatantly disregarding the most obvious fact universal to us all; no one knows everything or likely even that much about what they think they know so far. People mostly don't know much of anything, relatively speaking. It's a bummer but kind of like ignoring cancer not to accept it. Anyway, if I know anything it's only been my frustrated stupidity that has given me the notion to find out. What is a person who isn't curious anyway? I'll never relate. And maybe they know all they need to know, those who are eager to settle into a proximate paradise of routine and predictable security. But although I am probably utterly ignorant of their circumstantial expertise, that is (in this case) validating their end-game, at least I know that I'm wrong generally... almost entirely. Because that one cluster of negligible arrogance-fostering pseudo-knowledge you use to hang your hat on, whether it be about business, engineering, or just your meager circumstantial life experience, will grow in you just like unchecked cancer until it's too late to reclaim the major portion of your miraculous life which you could have used to realize the entirety of your potential as a sentient being. Knowing when you are wrong seems to be much more infallible than being certain you are right. In fact, the only people I trust are those that are admittedly wrong. They are the only ones who have the potential to know truth at all.

Blind Dating

In the summary of my online dating profile:

My Critique of Misplaced Values at the Expense of Genuine Relationships and Authentic Originality in a City of Industry:

No Use for the Genuine?
No Market for Authenticity?
What, then, could the point of all this be?

I'm unique, as are you, as are we all. It's just not always so evident with some. Authenticity is not a fixed quality of social beings. It requires will. My life's work is an excavation, an exploration into ever-expanding territory of self. Oriented by the past, directed by the future, and driven by authenticity in present. The provisional archaeologist gradually becomes the indefinite and boundless pioneer of self-discovery/advancement/innovation/re-invention/(everything new).

Finding yourself and developing yourself are the privileges of being yourself, which is the fail-safe method of liberating your true uniqueness. It's also the only truly original thing left to do, and the best, most interesting, and fulfilling way to be. What's more, being your authentically unique self is the only way to genuinely know & appreciate someone else. If you can't clean the inner lens, it matters-not how well you polish the outer glass of a telescope. But I'm not saying I have never lied or been fake, I have. Falseness get's you by, can even lead to success, but an empty and brief sort, that ultimately is a waste of your life & efforts.

I guess I feel the need to say all this because, somehow in this vast and varied social landscape, lasting-meaningful connections have evaded me for the most part. Or have I evaded them? My real conviction is that many people are too busy 'succeeding' to live with real presence. They simply aren't interested in something genuine which has nothing to do with their pursuit of more-ness ad-infinitum. I, too, try to move onward and upward in my life, but success for me, isn't found in wealth or social status. Unfortunately, I think those are probably the ultimate goals of most of my neighbirs. But money is not a goal, it's a tool. Real goals include: finding yourself, loving yourself, expanding yourself by learning from others who aspire likewise, and finally, truly being able to know and love other people. Status/fame/egoism is not given in respect. It's just grossly misplaced power, derived from wealth-magnetism or some other strange form of obsession for identifiable faces. These successes are empty. Achieving these 'goals' only makes it that much less likely to have meaningful human relationships. It's all fueled by our lowest carnal urges. What's the point of money, status, even power if no one (including yourself) really knows you, let alone loves you? The fleeting fun and illusions of enduring admiration? HA! ...You. In a mansion. Alone... Happy thanksgiving. :)
All I know is that cool-unique people with real personal interests and unpretentious sense of humor will be welcomed members of my L.A. gang. I know you're out there in the vastness of variation. Don't be afraid of really knowing someone without any superficial personal gain. Authenticity avails.

"Let yourself be silently drawn
by the strange pull of what you really love.
It will not lead you astray."


I occurred to me not too long ago that, even if being totally honest attracts no-one (always probable), what's the point if someone was interested in some false ideal of me anyway? Being yourself (which is harder than you may think it is) is the only way that you will ever meet people who truly appreciate you and who you feel the same way about.

The Creamy Revolution or How to Make Something from Nothing

Those that are humorless inspire the humor in us.

"It was vanity that fueled the revolution, freedom was only a pretense" (or some shit)
-Napoleon Boneparte

Fuck that.

Yesterday I designed a creative, yet effective (eye-catching, cool, concise) warning sign. The creamer powder for the fancy automatic coffee-drink machine ran out at work and I felt it imperative to create a disclaimer, and it was fun. I work in a creative industry, where free-thinking is paramount. And so... my tasks reflect that mindset, but always in good taste. In that spirit I drafted this little gem in a time of necessity:


Today... it's gone,
and not just gone but REPLACED.

(I would provide a photo, but all the evidence was destroyed)

I asked a source that had been close to the incident if they knew who instigated such a swift debunking of my functionally spot-on creative expression, or for any explanation available at all. She did tell me who found the display 'disagreeable.' I can't say who (it was someone way high up the corporate ladder). My confusion and dismay was not satisfied simply by his status. I had to know WHY on earth there was such adversity to my practical work of art, and so... that is what I asked them next. The informant seemed to be concerned with my tract of questioning and tried (in vain) to discredit the motive fueling my indignation. Said insider, revealed that she over heard someone say that it should be typed, rather than hand written. This was plausible, but if that is what was proposed, then it was not implemented. The replacement sign was written on the same paper (a small post-it note) with ink as well. It was obviously not the print vs. type theory. That would be the definition of insanity. My resolve remained. Furthermore, the new note was harder to read, too wordy and tactless in design. I asked a few others about the situation and they all either clung to their ignorance like a buoy in the shark-infested water or simply skirted the issue. Nevertheless, eventually I felt that I had a pretty concrete idea about the true motive for desecration of my art. They were afraid of it, of what they perceived to be the dangerous, insidious, corrupting, and subversive nature of it. They saw a perversion of reality. I TAKE ISSUE.

This is my statement in response to acts unfounded, inconsiderate and destructive. It is a protest, and a declaration!

The only people who would find that friendly message generally offensive are not actually personally offended themselves. Males. What's more, finding it offensive is more offensive than the sign itself. What is on the mind of a man who sees perversion in every nook and cranny of a building? I am a man, and though (now that it has been declared) I can see the insipid trail of dirty thoughts that could lead to such a mistaken interpretation, I had no such degrading notions or motives to inspire my work. Also, I maintain, even after objections, that there is nothing suggestive at all, purposeful or by default. No matter. This is not the issue. The REAL issue is freedom of expression and knowing when a creation adds to the spirit (morale) of the environment it resides in or when it degrades it. Our clientele are artists, working in a field of eccentricity exposure. We only benefit from functioning on the edge, as dull as it really is. But I will not be mistaken, I too believe we should always maintain a healthy distance from uncomfortable and alienating acts, so that we can all work together, and with those who we provide services, but we must NEVER become boring, for that is the death of inspiration, therefor progress & innovation, and in-turn... gradually brings about irrelevance, unsustainability and finally... failure. This is the importance, the reason to take issue. Do not roll over in times of suppression for the pressure will only increase. To those who remain quiet, in the zen world of neutral excuse. YOU ARE NOT SAFE ON THE FENCE (that is where the mortars fall short).

"To speak the truth in a time of universal deceit is a revolutionary act" -George Orwell, 1984 (the future, now)

(no subject)

Holy shit I am fucked up. I have no idea where I am right now. I am so out of touch. I feel deep waves of sadness. I dread thought... introspection. I am uncomfortable to be anywhere. Nothing is it, what I need. I am anxious. I am on the verge of tears. Nothing is home. Nothing is here with me. Helplessness is spinning her web around me. I am looking, in a daze, at my demise. My mind is in a different reality, while it senses only this one...

Living in the past, spiting the present and dreading the future. I am faithless, I am pessimistic.

Open your eyes wider
View the vista
Where you are
Where you're going
What got you here
Is only with you
As long as where you're going
Allows it to stay on board

A Message for E.

Presence holds validity over the past.

When you own yourself you no longer depend on the (d)evaluated, bi-annually adjusted payroll of market-conscious approval-employment.

Anti-Ayn Rand

How do people do it? The perpetual grind. The record keeping. The appointments on time. The mundane consistency. Chugging along. And what room is left outside of this perfect machine once it's been designed so well to fit the form and function of the outside world? How much of us is left to our lives once this social necessity is fulfilled? My recurring question is why? Is it just to fit into a structure? Is it so we feel that we are valid human beings? People will do whatever is expected of them in order to belong no matter where they are from. Some structures are more severe than others. In this lovely nation, we simply have to buy in to the social game. The race. The soul for comfort trade-off. We may be the world-wide forerunners of the freedom to be yourself but the unspoken rule is that your identity is taxed as you rise. You are shaped. By the time you're in the government, you are a distorted and misused replica of who you were in your youth. be continued
  • Current Music
    Crickets inside

No More Rhyme

The thing you want to be is the thing that you just are not. Then what does that mean? You want the wrong things.
My thoughts have gone off the rails. I try to think but the only time I think is when I'm not writing.
What an interesting way to communicate.

This song has a seductive rhythm. You talk in patterns of type. What an interesting way to communicate. The most advanced way. But so limited. Type.

J A P A N (soundtrack)

I can only speak the truth... from my subtracted view.
There are certain truths you cannot communicate

Do what you did when you were twelve.
It's the right thing to do.
You need music.
To move.

You can't predict the future. But you can feel it.
This is a hit. I can't repeat it.
  • Current Music
    Taeko Ohnuki
  • Tags

L.J. Dream

So, last night... or I should say this morning, I had a dream wherein I was at some kind of basketball camp for my special high school (I was back in high school) up in some odd town in the mountains. There were terraces and lots of supported cliff-side buildings and balconies, including the court we were playing on... So Lebron James and some other more veteran shooting guard or whatever were running this thing. I quickly noticed that we were basically all just shooting around. I was thinking damn, I get a chance to play with these pros and they're off talking and we're all just fumbling around trying to take shots. So I go up to the guy that wasn't Lebron (because I don't really like him and don't believe he cares about us kids) and ask him (the older veteran), "should we should start running some drills or something?"
Him: "Naaah, you guys are more the perimeter type-players... you just shoot and stuff"
---There were about 15 of us
Me: "Uhm, well what about if we get screened on a play or something?"
---I was trying to force him to actually coach us but he obviously was annoyed by this unexpected involvement
I think at this point he starts babbling some incoherent excuse as far as my comprehension goes. I get frustrated/stop wanting to hear it and grab a ball and start running toward the basket and challenging both of the pro-NBA youth coaches as well as my young peers but I'm out of shape and flailing wildly... losing my dribble only to fling a shot up that doesn't even come close. Just about then some even worse and more out of shape (or just mentally challenged?) kid somehow bounces a ball over the 20 ft fence and it falls down a huge canyon. We all go look at it. This place was incredible. Something like you'd see in a ps3 video game where they design fantasized ancient cities in the sky. In any case, Lebron James was an incompetent in my dream as he is in real life and I wanted to remember it.

And now I'm sick... weird


"The comforts of life are eroding away each day. All I know to do at is cling on to each vice until all avenues f"... <<<---This was the last saved typed message on my Livejournal from c. 2008.
I miss this community. I think it's time again to use this for what it is, a journal. Anyways, I need to start flexing my creative/reflective writing muscles and get back in shape! It was unfair of me (and the millions of others) to abandon this wonderful forum for deep personal thought because Myspace, Friendster, and finally the juggernaut--Facebook deluded my precious imagination by turning on the virtual reality TV (the social network obsession). I, for one, am ready to start fleshing things out instead of just updating and commenting. Those are great tools for quick and fun, and simultaneously direct and broad, communication but what about the real thoughts? The fact that no one will probably be seeing this doesn't bother me either. Not that the thought of someone seeing it will. I just think this is the kind of place where we all join up and post whatever thoughts we deem thinkable and readable for ourselves and our cohorts with the same understanding that this is what LJ was designed for. So I am back... If I can remember to use this thing again...

Maybe tonight I'll get high and write to get the creative juices flowing... though I'm beginning to fear that that only hastens the loss of creativity which naturally occurs in the brain (maybe just mine?).