It's been well over a year since I last posted anything on my blog. And frankly it's inexcusable. The last 15 months have given me more fodder for the written word than I've enjoyed or loathed since I was an angst-ridden college dropout. Who wants to write when there is nothing positive to say? I should have. I should have poured ink onto parchment or font onto this wonderous LCD panel like the blood, sweat and tears within me. But I did not. I failed myself; I failed my friends; I failed you fine people. I had offerings galore but kept them greedily until the fruit spoiled. And there is no excuse for my allowing that to happen.
The original notion for this blog was to give myself a venue for spewing random, witty commentary. I said that I wanted to toss out blurbs about philosophy, exorcise personal demons, entertain readers. But what I learned rather quickly was that my idea of entertaining prose is really not all that entertaining for others. I am the guy with one-liner, the occasional zinger, decent sarcasm. What I am not is a comedic writer. I have friends who are. But that is not me. My sense of humor is dark and mostly dry. I overthink practically everything. And it showed in my uninspired, bland posts that failed to deliver a giggle, provoked thought or profane gesture to my readers' day. In truth I am little more than a poet who doesn't write poetry anymore.
I recently read a quote from director Guillermo del Toro that said something along the lines of "if a writer claims to lack inspiration he's not a writer." That resonated with me. It was a strong reminder of what I wanted to be as a boy, what I said I wanted to be as a young man and of the pipe dream that has become my day to day. I have a voice. We all do. But some of us simply do not use it. And in the last year I most certainly have not used mine when the opportunities were as vast as the ocean. Shame on me.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Friday, April 9, 2010
Schmuckaroony Me
Yesterday I received an email from a friend in Florida. It said simply: “Nothing in the blog lately. What’s up?”
I didn’t even know that he was reading. And with that I realized that not having subscribers does not mean that people are not reading. So I owe an apology to my anonymous, mystery viewers. I owe thanks to those people who chuckle or guffaw or scratch their heads when reading my diatribes. The head scratching can certainly be found more than the sounds of glee.
This Homer is for Organic Meatbag and Manloaf. And this entry is for everyone else. It’s really just a random napkin poem from who knows when.
Wake and bake
Bender healer
Pain of Sun-
God’s dreaded flashlight
It shows the hair
Hair of the Dog
Tequila worm
Red wine drunk
And cheap beer all in me
Bleh
But the shots
Mmmmm
Jello shots are lovely
I didn’t even know that he was reading. And with that I realized that not having subscribers does not mean that people are not reading. So I owe an apology to my anonymous, mystery viewers. I owe thanks to those people who chuckle or guffaw or scratch their heads when reading my diatribes. The head scratching can certainly be found more than the sounds of glee.
This Homer is for Organic Meatbag and Manloaf. And this entry is for everyone else. It’s really just a random napkin poem from who knows when.
Wake and bake
Bender healer
Pain of Sun-
God’s dreaded flashlight
It shows the hair
Hair of the Dog
Tequila worm
Red wine drunk
And cheap beer all in me
Bleh
But the shots
Mmmmm
Jello shots are lovely
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Pygmalion
Last night I was flipping channels and stumbled across a seminar broadcast on PBS; I stopped because the man giving the presentation was older, bald and I thought briefly to be Stephen Covey. Covey, of course, is the Seven Habits guru of the late 20th century. This guy was not him. But it’s apparent that when you want to be a guru, you need to be old and bald. And you need to love to wear ski sweaters. I digress.
Anyway this guy gets to talking about the historical value of Lao Tzu and the message that “if you change your mind, you change your life.” OK. I’ll be changing the channel. But wait…He threw in the hook. Dr. Mindbender said something, just as I was about to click the remote, that captured my attention. He suggested that the mind could actually altar not only your outlook but also change your genetic and physical dispositions.
I sniffed; I sniffed again. I looked for the pile of dog feces in the room. But my pets had made no mess. I clearly was smelling bullshit. Or so I thought.
The further explanation was attached to the ol’ placebo effect. And the claim was that a university study (I don’t think that the university was named by the way) demonstrated that physical prowess could be changed by our thoughts. The gist of the study included a group of knee patients who agreed to traditional treatment and surgical treatments for minor but painful injuries. In the case of the surgical care, some people underwent genuine surgery. But some members of the sample simply had arthroscopic cuts made into the area complete with the in-spraying of gas to expand the joint area; then the patients were closed up without any genuine repair. The only catch is all of them were told that the surgery was a success. The non-surgery, surgery group had improvement in health commensurate with the traditional care group and nearly on par with the sample that actually underwent surgical repair. Conclusion: If you believe that you are better, you will be. The presenter went as far as to say that one especially vocal patient was doing things such as climbing and dancing regularly in spite of never being actually “fixed”. The truth was not revealed for about two years to the individuals.
Hmm. So what is being presented here is actually a belief that the Pygmalion Effect (Self-Fulfilling Prophecy) can be attached to all aspects of our lives.
I changed the channel. Heard enough.
But I have to admit that in the back of my ol’ noggin I did ponder the self-fulfilling prophecy thing. I did ponder the physical aspect of our minds. And I chose to recall a few items in my youth where both the positive and negative played their angel and devil roles to perfection.
When I was three, my parents took me to visit a psychologist. I suspect that it was at the recommendation of my pediatrician. I strangely recall playing with toys of varied sorts (Lincoln Logs and a rubber lion for certain) while a bearded, sweater-vested, pipe-smoking man observed me and conversed with my very young parents. I learned later that he requested that I be admitted for study because he perceived that I was autistic. My parents said “no thank you” and instead turned to people of prayer for my welfare. The matter was never discussed in front of me. I was encouraged to excel because I was a smart, charismatic little man. The result was an honors student, school politician and fairly pompous kid. I was not autistic, slow or socially backward outside of my awkward issues with girls. But I may have been that way if my parents and others accepted that singular diagnosis. Score 1 for positive self-fulfilling prophecy.
I was a clumsy kid and suffered a lot of falls, concussions, etc. When I started having dizzy spells and migraines at 11 or 12, I had the joy of going through a full battery of neuro tests (MRI, CT Scan, EEG). I sat in the room with my dad and the neurologist as he went through the results. There were a few anomalies in the EEG. The glitches were probably responsible for my clumsiness in my early years. And in his estimation, I probably had a very, very, very small touch of Cerebral Palsy. I could function normally without issue but it was unlikely that I would excel in sports as I aged because I would be slower or lesser in my athletic development. I walked out of there KNOWING that I would try my best to play basketball or something. But I never expected to be a very good player regardless of my efforts. I proved myself right. Score 1 for negative self-fulfilling prophecy.
Finally I had a year of pure hell in elementary school wherein a group of boys decided to start their own little gang of bullies. They targeted the lesser imposing or smarter kids as victims. I was soft, had never been in a fight and had been told my entire life that I could never get in trouble at school for anything. I was the perfect target. I went home everyday bruised, red-eared from having the little terrorists on each side of me flicking away and talking shit. My self-esteem was garbage. My dad said “fight back”; my mom said “No. Let the teacher handle it”. I fought back once and was given the only black eye of my youth, along with more bruises. The other guy knew how to fight and he tore me up. I was a coward, a weakling and I was never going to be anything more. That mental state resurfaced a few months back for a brief moment. And I have been pissed ever since. Score 1 for negative self-fulfilling prophecy.
Those who know me know full well that I am neither autistic nor is there any reason for my not being a decent athlete even at 36 years of age. Most might be surprised to hear that I was ever bullied or beaten up by anyone. The only explanation is the man in the mirror. I am my own worst enemy. I have recently started to seek a change of attack for that enemy. I have dedicated myself to finally fulfilling my lifelong dreams of writing a book (even a bad one), having an athletic appearance, knowing how to viciously defend myself, and proving that I can be more than I am.
To that end, I have to say that Dr. Mindbender (whoever the bald man was) had a bit of relevance in his "mind over matter" philosophy. Go figure. I devalued the message until I looked in the mirror. How many of us do the same thing everyday?
Anyway this guy gets to talking about the historical value of Lao Tzu and the message that “if you change your mind, you change your life.” OK. I’ll be changing the channel. But wait…He threw in the hook. Dr. Mindbender said something, just as I was about to click the remote, that captured my attention. He suggested that the mind could actually altar not only your outlook but also change your genetic and physical dispositions.
I sniffed; I sniffed again. I looked for the pile of dog feces in the room. But my pets had made no mess. I clearly was smelling bullshit. Or so I thought.
The further explanation was attached to the ol’ placebo effect. And the claim was that a university study (I don’t think that the university was named by the way) demonstrated that physical prowess could be changed by our thoughts. The gist of the study included a group of knee patients who agreed to traditional treatment and surgical treatments for minor but painful injuries. In the case of the surgical care, some people underwent genuine surgery. But some members of the sample simply had arthroscopic cuts made into the area complete with the in-spraying of gas to expand the joint area; then the patients were closed up without any genuine repair. The only catch is all of them were told that the surgery was a success. The non-surgery, surgery group had improvement in health commensurate with the traditional care group and nearly on par with the sample that actually underwent surgical repair. Conclusion: If you believe that you are better, you will be. The presenter went as far as to say that one especially vocal patient was doing things such as climbing and dancing regularly in spite of never being actually “fixed”. The truth was not revealed for about two years to the individuals.
Hmm. So what is being presented here is actually a belief that the Pygmalion Effect (Self-Fulfilling Prophecy) can be attached to all aspects of our lives.
I changed the channel. Heard enough.
But I have to admit that in the back of my ol’ noggin I did ponder the self-fulfilling prophecy thing. I did ponder the physical aspect of our minds. And I chose to recall a few items in my youth where both the positive and negative played their angel and devil roles to perfection.
When I was three, my parents took me to visit a psychologist. I suspect that it was at the recommendation of my pediatrician. I strangely recall playing with toys of varied sorts (Lincoln Logs and a rubber lion for certain) while a bearded, sweater-vested, pipe-smoking man observed me and conversed with my very young parents. I learned later that he requested that I be admitted for study because he perceived that I was autistic. My parents said “no thank you” and instead turned to people of prayer for my welfare. The matter was never discussed in front of me. I was encouraged to excel because I was a smart, charismatic little man. The result was an honors student, school politician and fairly pompous kid. I was not autistic, slow or socially backward outside of my awkward issues with girls. But I may have been that way if my parents and others accepted that singular diagnosis. Score 1 for positive self-fulfilling prophecy.
I was a clumsy kid and suffered a lot of falls, concussions, etc. When I started having dizzy spells and migraines at 11 or 12, I had the joy of going through a full battery of neuro tests (MRI, CT Scan, EEG). I sat in the room with my dad and the neurologist as he went through the results. There were a few anomalies in the EEG. The glitches were probably responsible for my clumsiness in my early years. And in his estimation, I probably had a very, very, very small touch of Cerebral Palsy. I could function normally without issue but it was unlikely that I would excel in sports as I aged because I would be slower or lesser in my athletic development. I walked out of there KNOWING that I would try my best to play basketball or something. But I never expected to be a very good player regardless of my efforts. I proved myself right. Score 1 for negative self-fulfilling prophecy.
Finally I had a year of pure hell in elementary school wherein a group of boys decided to start their own little gang of bullies. They targeted the lesser imposing or smarter kids as victims. I was soft, had never been in a fight and had been told my entire life that I could never get in trouble at school for anything. I was the perfect target. I went home everyday bruised, red-eared from having the little terrorists on each side of me flicking away and talking shit. My self-esteem was garbage. My dad said “fight back”; my mom said “No. Let the teacher handle it”. I fought back once and was given the only black eye of my youth, along with more bruises. The other guy knew how to fight and he tore me up. I was a coward, a weakling and I was never going to be anything more. That mental state resurfaced a few months back for a brief moment. And I have been pissed ever since. Score 1 for negative self-fulfilling prophecy.
Those who know me know full well that I am neither autistic nor is there any reason for my not being a decent athlete even at 36 years of age. Most might be surprised to hear that I was ever bullied or beaten up by anyone. The only explanation is the man in the mirror. I am my own worst enemy. I have recently started to seek a change of attack for that enemy. I have dedicated myself to finally fulfilling my lifelong dreams of writing a book (even a bad one), having an athletic appearance, knowing how to viciously defend myself, and proving that I can be more than I am.
To that end, I have to say that Dr. Mindbender (whoever the bald man was) had a bit of relevance in his "mind over matter" philosophy. Go figure. I devalued the message until I looked in the mirror. How many of us do the same thing everyday?
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Sometime in 1998...Who knows
Lost and wandering down a lonesome highway, I see a sign. I don't understand the text upon it, but the shape is familiar to me. Perhaps I knew of it in my youth. Perhaps. But I am not sure now. All I know is that I am lost, aimless, a vagabond. I have no family, friends or home. Though I did have all of these once. Oh the memories seer my mind. But now it's just me and this sign; an octo-shaped form in no mans land, crimson-stained message with no meaning to me. I am certain that I once knew this. I guess lost it like I lost myself. There is nothing here in any direction but death and sand and bitter heat. So why is this symbol here? Why now? A flash of a memory washes over me. I see her death. Another comes and I see more death. There is blood on my hands, tears in my eyes. What is the damnable flood of thought? Why oh why am I haunted with a flood in the desert?
Friday, March 5, 2010
And still more micro fiction
If only I had an idea that spanned greater than 250 words....
James sits upright in bed. He stares at his hands, wipes cold sweat from his brow and arms then looks out the window to his right. Palm trees sway as winds come off the quiet ocean tides. It’s serene. Paradise.
“No snow. No blood. Just a dream. Just a dream.”
20 minutes later… James sits upright in bed. He stares at his hands, wipes cold sweat from his brow and arms then looks out the window to his right. Palm trees sway as winds come off the quiet ocean tides. It’s serene. Paradise.
“He’s done it again. I think it must be Canada perhaps Alaska. Now what? I can’t call now. She’s already dead. I can’t do anything. He’s daring me to come for him. Do I even care? Just go back to sleep.”
40 minutes later… James sits upright in bed.
“DAMN YOU ERIC!!!”
The no longer sleeping man showers, packs his bag and calls for a taxi. The vehicle arrives as he pays his hotel bill. The Polynesian girl waiting on him is youthful, beautiful, interested. Interested now at check-out but not in the last month. Damn you Eric.
“Take me to the airport please. And make it fast. My sister has just been murdered somewhere…”
James sits upright in bed. He stares at his hands, wipes cold sweat from his brow and arms then looks out the window to his right. Palm trees sway as winds come off the quiet ocean tides. It’s serene. Paradise.
“No snow. No blood. Just a dream. Just a dream.”
20 minutes later… James sits upright in bed. He stares at his hands, wipes cold sweat from his brow and arms then looks out the window to his right. Palm trees sway as winds come off the quiet ocean tides. It’s serene. Paradise.
“He’s done it again. I think it must be Canada perhaps Alaska. Now what? I can’t call now. She’s already dead. I can’t do anything. He’s daring me to come for him. Do I even care? Just go back to sleep.”
40 minutes later… James sits upright in bed.
“DAMN YOU ERIC!!!”
The no longer sleeping man showers, packs his bag and calls for a taxi. The vehicle arrives as he pays his hotel bill. The Polynesian girl waiting on him is youthful, beautiful, interested. Interested now at check-out but not in the last month. Damn you Eric.
“Take me to the airport please. And make it fast. My sister has just been murdered somewhere…”
Thursday, March 4, 2010
More Microfiction from the noggin of JD
September 1864 (near Atlanta, GA)William T. Sherman stands inside his tent; he proctors strategy for the battle to come along with his Lieutenants. A rap is heard against the heavy tarp acting as a doorway for the Union general.
"Enter!"
"We have Corporal McGee sir."
A gaunt, young soldier steps into the tent. He is rigid at attention but obviously breathing hard- the anxiety of an audience with the General over The West.
"At ease Corporal. I am told that you have an ability that might be of use to the Union. Is this true?"
"Yes General. I, um, have a gift."
"Let's see it then soldier!"
At the general's order the timid young man observes the general's cot to the left of the men. Pointing his hand toward the wooden bed, the men turn their attention toward it and then stumble back as the cot bursts into flames.
"My God! The boy has the devil in him." Exclaimed one Lieutenant.
But the general only smiles and flings a bucket of water onto the burning bed smoke billowing where flames had spontaneously combusted.
"Devil? Nay. He’s our angel. Corporal McGee, you do have a special gift. You are going to preserve the Union. And we are going to scorch these damned gray dogs into submission. Send word to Washington that victory is imminent."
Friday, February 19, 2010
Super Heroes, Super Villains, Super Powers
There is a reason why so many of us love the comic books and hero movies. We love the adventure. We love the technology. We love the suspension of disbelief in seeing a man (assumed to be like any other) flying or exercising amazing strength and blinding speed. It is what all of us deep down wish that we could do. It’s a part of our imagination; it’s a part of some of our actual dreams at night. The chance of being Jamie and having a second, revered identity is bliss. Alas it all has to be left to idle fancy.
I speculate that mutations of the species do not exist be it by God, gods or evolution because of the shortfalls in our human nature. At the very least my own human nature would be a detriment to my ability. I would not be a villain but I would most definitely not go hungry either.
Save the day? Sure. Charge a fee? Not likely. Expect endorsements, gifts, total comfort? YES. Be willing to take a whole closet of gold out of Fort Knox if no one else was assisting me financially? If I had the super power to do it probably. Knowing that I could totally do something would make for quite the internal struggle between right and wrong. But my personal temperament would surely lead to the occasional justification of means where I would never venture as a mere mortal.
Then there are the moonlighting possibilities:
Invisibility – Security Consultant
Multiplicity- Building Contractor
Speed- UPS
Telekinetics- Mega Mover
Phasing-Art Thief
Plasticman- Porn
It’s no wonder he was always smiling.
Cheers.
I speculate that mutations of the species do not exist be it by God, gods or evolution because of the shortfalls in our human nature. At the very least my own human nature would be a detriment to my ability. I would not be a villain but I would most definitely not go hungry either.
Save the day? Sure. Charge a fee? Not likely. Expect endorsements, gifts, total comfort? YES. Be willing to take a whole closet of gold out of Fort Knox if no one else was assisting me financially? If I had the super power to do it probably. Knowing that I could totally do something would make for quite the internal struggle between right and wrong. But my personal temperament would surely lead to the occasional justification of means where I would never venture as a mere mortal.
Then there are the moonlighting possibilities:
Invisibility – Security Consultant
Multiplicity- Building Contractor
Speed- UPS
Telekinetics- Mega Mover
Phasing-Art Thief
Plasticman- Porn
It’s no wonder he was always smiling.
Cheers.
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