Where Smoking Monkeys Lie...
Friday, March 26, 2004
Oblivious?
Last night I dreamt I was a God on a geometric plane. This afternoon I go to work at the Wax Museum.
I fear I have a stunning misconception about my life...
Thursday, March 18, 2004
On considering the Wurst
As I stare into the fridge, past the withered lettuce and condiments, I find my gaze affixed to the open pack of bratwurst, left over from an impromptu BBQ, sitting half atop a ziplock bag with both half an onion and tomato, and wonder, hungry, symptoms aside, if trichinosis is really as bad as I fear...
Monday, March 15, 2004
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Sunday, March 14, 2004
Later that evening
On a more personal note...
Last night we had dinner with the estranged portion the extended family. I laughed all night. There were only the five of us: Stesha, Xioayu, Myself, and Stesha's uncle Carey & his partner Bernard, who stems from Singapore (the two of whom did not get married because they didn't want to be like everyone else... They have been joined in a civil union, though... Odd, this family I'm marrying into, I suppose, though, I'd have had to be more open minded or she never would have fallen in love with me.)
This was the first family gathering where I was offered shots (High end tequila and B&B) Carey's drinking buddy was Stesha's dad, he was excited about having family for drinks. I love the man! We were only going to stay a few hours and got enveloped into the spirit of it, staying until just after ten (This started at four and I was refusing drinks before the end of dinner... The freeway from Alameda (Nuclear Wessles?!) to San Francisco needn't be driven 'under the influence' without adequate medical coverage, not to mention liability and the imminent 'freeway death' factor.)
Everyone at the table reminded everyone else of Nick. The way Carey moved, Stesha's casual swearing, Xioayu, even Me, to some extent, the boy who came and stayed to help the family. (I love the bunch, it's the most liberal group I've been close to: 6'4" beefy gay man and his partner, the little wispy man from Singapore, the Chinese stepmother....) Well, everyone except Bernard reminded everyone of Nick. Bernard's always been quiet. He spent the night politely laughing, making dinner and cleaning more than he'd sit at the table. Friendly guy. Friendly bunch.
Our lives were changed so much by those four weeks in February and March last year... We learned how dedicated we were to so much more than we'd thought or realized, found out that coming through for people when it really mattered was more important than I could have known before. Yes, after years of running away and thinking and pondering it hit me. And all it took was a tragedy. If I were 17 I'd have put on a backpack and walk. If I were 20 I'd have been thumbing it to a new 'middle of nowhere' I'd never seen. Today I need to stay because someone's counting on me.
And I've sat, thought about it, things I've done and how it's all brought me right here; every choice, every action. Sometimes I marvel I'm still alive. Others, I wonder how I managed...
Saturday, March 13, 2004
Self Awareness, however, is a Different Story
We live in a state combining two thought forums: First: ‘absolute,’ where we interact, experience, and make tangible our thoughts and ideas through any number of means of communication. This is the physical, external world. The second is ‘subjective’ where we formulate our thoughts and interpret experience in a form intangible: thought. This is the mental, internal world. At any given point, the mind is interpreting both concepts into a single conscious reality.
For example: a newly wed couple begins to fight as one and the other begin to feel differently about the newfound situation, saying nothing. The ‘reality’ at this point is that the subjective reality (or internal dialogue) is overpowering objective (sensual.) Without communication in the objective forum, this hypothetical marriage is bound for failure: objectively, reality is firm, and precise: real and without debate. Subjectively, however, their realities are unique, individual: they think, feel, and interpret differently than the each other. Consciousness, like marriage and society, is a steady compromise between the flow of information and ebb of thought. The senses act valves and reasoning, the filter.
Thus any creature whose life functions is such a manner of recognizing stimulus as such, considering and coming to a conclusion maintains a conscious base. Consciousness does not, however, indicate ‘intelligence,’ as choice of material, whether to gain knowledge or merely pass time, per say, is a sign of relative intellect. Example: To lock a Bee in a dark box and shake it, spin it, travel over the next hill in a roundabout, confusing pattern, release it, and the bee uses its mapping system (that little insect brain rarely thought of) to find its way home. Bees spend their lives flying to and from the hive, collecting for the good of the whole, but do not spend the entirety of their lives doing so. Quite opposite, in fact, bees have time to spare; their system works so well that bees do, in fact, have a great deal of independent ‘down time’ and in that time their minds continue their endless calculations, as a mind must remain active, must continue to receive and process stimulus (Information) in a steady flow. Whether or not this bee thinks of the flowers he perched upon today is still up in the air; we are certain, however, through studies which have mapped the insect mind of a honey bee that our minds are striking similar, chemically, remaining largely active–even while sleeping.
A conscious mind?
Was the reasoning ability of the bee’s mind responsible for its homecoming? It is consciousness that allows for the mind to recall its own stimulus without external forces acting upon it. The need for stimulus allows for the growth, thought, and the retention of knowledge we refer to as intelligence. Retention, recall, learning and communicating information are all vital to consciousness. When not learning or communicating, the mind recalls stored information and busies itself. The mind is dead, numb, inactive and unconscious if not performing any number of these tasks. Consciousness DOES NOT switch off, it merely informs itself in our sleep.
It is this need of steady influx that allows consciousness to exist, the means by which Objective Reality is considered in Subjective and reapplied to Objective is a communicating thought– intelligence. One needn’t be ‘taught’ as much as one need be ‘observant.’ We do live hand-in-hand with ‘nature,’ functioning as Objective reality, this forum provides for the greatest thought and interaction for all senses, providing for more stimulus than say, telephones or the internet (as an objective forum.) The more sensory experience interpreted at once, the more active the mind, the more the objective and subjective forums are combined, the greater the understanding of the information on display will become, firsthand experience being the most reliable and truly comprehensible (one can be explained the smell of an orange, but it does not smell the same as another. It was Regan, I believe, who said, “If you’ve seen one ... you’ve seen them all,” admitting to his own ignorance with Zest and with Gusto.
If true understanding of the universe begins first by setting aside all learned to this point, it would seem the only important aspect to reality would be the subjective forum and that the objective was, itself, an ultimately unforgiving lie...
Hmm... My random thoughts on consciousness are gone... I suppose I may have to explain first the 'Cellular City' and 'Self Awareness' before I could get it to stick.
Thursday, March 11, 2004
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Tuesday, March 09, 2004
Then again, it's hard to glorify Philosophy to the Unenthused
I did have dreams, at one point, of conquering the world and plans that detailed such. Plans that fell to the wayside when I learned I could fake my own death and forgotten when wielding how...
Either way, it's an act of being remembered, though, History, and all that.
And that was ultimately the question, wasn't it? What became of my plans? It all comes down to a matter of politics, 'kill or be killed' or 'nothing to do with any of it.' Do I climb my way to the top and worry about being pushed out, pushed off, or just plain going over the edge.
Or do I make the decision and stand aside proud on my own two feet, saying, 'Don't tread on me' as they fall?
Hmm... World Domination... The phrase implies 'prison' to me, a prison for others, under my dominant rule, to be sure--I am no gentle and merciful king. Rather, I see a prison built for myself as well, where performing as anything but my utter best to uphold the responsibilities of governing a people versus solitude would not only be expected, it would be mandatory--one fuck up and countless dead... Bringing us back to a question posed again, 'Black or White?'
Create law or be shunned by law? Or to be taken away to be trained to live in society, work for yourself, family, and the benefit of others (Taxation is at its essence socialism.) Leading life choices to the inevitable: Know people or know myself. Like any a case study, consider: there is not time for both, but one must be determined. Lead or leave? The people chose their own paths rather than mine--leading to an ultimate revolt. My shoulders. This burden lies solely on my shoulders, you see, as the question of 'Do I, Don't I,' though self imposed, has itself stood poised for answering.
The choice: divide or Conquer...
I suppose everybody finds themselves to be the black to their own white, living to the point confusion stemming from ultimate truth: life itself is a paradox, whereupon we ultimately find ourselves learning there is nothing left to learn. (White is white and so is black. We needn't be concerned with gray.) I suppose that might mean I've met goal of 'world domination' as I can't go any further, save the inevitable 'divide' but the initial 'divide' leads into another form of 'domination' which in turn will ultimately divide itself again. As complex as the universe itself.
Either way, failing leads to horrific mediocrity and will not be stood for, like falling on Skates, this'll be dramatic if I just end on my ass or break a few legs on my down. In truth, I feel I must set forth as the dominant paradox to 'conquer' either myself or the world... Would it be better to start the revolution or silence it...?
Monday, March 08, 2004
You know, I really don't think I'd have the strength to hammer in the morning and hammer out danger...
Sunday, March 07, 2004
Now, last night was a sure fire hoot. Robert had his usual weekend comradory, this time in the form of BBQ, third B provided, where many an old friend riered their ugly heads. I had a cheap cigar, by cheap I mean it tastes better if light it with a zippo because you can't taste the pesticides under the lighter fluid.
My friend Dan from high school intercepted me before his drunken googling on the couch. Drunk people are fun, he felt too horrible to contest to holding both a pillow and the arm of a maniqin. We talked art and he's gotten very mathmetic, scientific about work--his details are the evquivalent of numbers, points precicely graphed on a geometric plane. Or, so goes my theory, I haven't seen his work and know I'll be blown away. He's always been better than me, now he has an understanding of theory as well as aplication. Good guy.
My socialist friend James from Chicago moved from Berkely to Oakland since last I saw him. I'm not sure he's a socialist anymore. His glasses were elvis and shirt hawaiian. I don't dress how I did two years ago either. We talkedphilosophy over his shots of JD, beginning with theoretical physics and ending, ultimately with consciousness and discussing the connection through math. Which is why I can't blame Dan, as I, too, am a creative mind in a scientific world. Our outcome's just a little different, though... I wonder who's got the equation wrong?
Ah, the language of science.
This weekend will belong and vicious. Friday night we had a 'polite' dinner with the Stepmother who is doing her best as the 'one year' mark approaches. We had sushi and talked about Lost in Translation; she's lived in tokyo and translated key moments to us, reinforcing the ease of an American stereotyping it into a Mr. Baseball clone. But the sushi was good.
And Yesterday! I made the mistake of applying to the DMV, one of 150 positions to fill in the 'Region' by 'The Department.' This frightens me. That I have inside knowledge of the reasoning behind this merely adds fuel to firely gullet: before this open application process was set in motion, a local news program was in the midst of an expose on 'The Department.' Before this could air, 'The Department' acted in an effort to negate srutiny in the public eye. It was time to hire some people in 'Region 2.' 150 people to a position as modified 'desk clerk.' You telling me the Government could have provided 150 Jobs and chose not to? Are they holding back Government Jobs when the funding is provided?
...
There were well more than 400 people in the sub-basement gym of Aragon High in San Mateo (I was something close to 500 and there were well more than 100 people behind me.) Step one: fill out the application, blacken the correct bubble correctly or it will neither be corrected correctly nor counted. Step two: For the 'lower skilled' applicants, all are told to wait with the others in the ungodly line (Literally two hours moving 3-5" a minute) for 'idiot-proofing' of the application. In an effort to extend our employment opportunity to the most underqualified, it is necessary to have your application looked over by a man baring more than subtle resemblace to Rip Torn, making me question the reality of the situation.
It was my understanding up to this point that if hired to be deal with money and typing and precision, you kinda need your shit in order which, obviously, they did for you. Idiots of the world unite. Woo-hoo. But none of that matters because this is all just a precursor to the Written Test that happens after you finish the labrinth of lines. If you finish...
The girl in front of me was small and attractive, I thought she was Indian but Rip Torn blurted out she was from Fiji. He'd never met anyone from Fiji. Neither had I but I'm sure the novely had long since worn off for her. Maybe sometime in line. The whole crowd now knew she was from Fiji. She needed a lot of help from him for unimportant things. They just had to be done because it's procedure, not because it makes a difference. He then idiot proofed mine. He had no sense of humor with me, maybe if I were a cute girl from fiji. I also needed some help. Three of my bubbles were scrutinized but ultimately fine. I remember getting my permit and my mother explaining the lines at the DMV.
From there, it was a short walk to the end of the OTHER FUCKING LINE where I had stand for another two hours, patiently. I had goten myself into this mess, I could stand through it. The people started making eye conact with eachother and not breaking it once caught staring. Awkward. I saw two women just look into eachothers eyes for a minute and a half with a blank look of 'huh?' The conversations between applicants went from quiet to polite, impatient, frustrated anger, then silence. Five hours rolled around.
Applicaiton review was quick, as the heafty woman who'd wrapped herself in a cheap blanket chawed at her sandwich, cream cheese in place of mayo on her bread filled with lard was much more interested in the scrumptious goodies laid before her from her literal picnic basket. Vending machines lined the walls of this Sub Code location, as most High schools are both sub par and littered in vending machines... None worked. No Cheetos, Doritos, Gatorade or pepsi. Not even the over price small bottle of water. ANd we couldn't leave line, that means going back to the begining and learning again the lesson of patience. The hours streched from 8 and aproaching 12. The hour of hunger, lust.
She looked me over and my application, standing intermittenly to re-wrap for acryllic tortilla around her body creating a human burrito of warmth and gas. Work, experience and education, "You just barely make it." Whew, I'm sure glad I made it Miss Greasy, why if it weren't fer yer sure fire full support, right behind me to back me up, why...
"Now just hope you pass the test."
Bugger off. I'm smarter than at least 75% of these people, not arrogance, just an arrogant fact. I told her, with a smile, that I wasn't concerned with the test, knowing full well I'd fly through it like a fart through pants.
One more card to fill out, one more number asigned to each person, twenty minutes waiting in the next line for some ugly show girl (painted like a prostitute. These are not snap judgements, folks, these are long winded observations and the kinds of hallucinaitons and tricks your mind play on you after having spent 6 HOURS. Judge not, less ye be judged [in the minds of others.] I don't mind, if they were bored it'd be fine if they thought of me a hunch-backed communist cammel.) to come down and bring us to the testing room where we were subjected to Standardized Testing upon which our evaluation will be based 100%. Great state of California says: Not only is everybody equal, everybody's the same! (Unless you're gay.)
CTBS & STAR tests scarred me for scantrons. I'm impatient, figity, always have been and I hate those little bubbles, I focus too hard and have difficulty understanding #2 pencils. Given two hours to finish the test of which I've signed a legally binding document stating I will not let anyone what mystical and legendary questions were found therein. I finished in just over one hour and still had too wait for the paid individual to collect my test, giving me plenty of time to A) Draw a torso with arms and everything below the belly torn off, the man's head looking dreamily away saying, 'I remember yesterday' as a tribute to the particle board wobbliness of High School desks (All schools do smell the same, by the way. In fact, I may have actually gone to school there, the smell was so familiar...) and B) draw a monkey on the sctratch paper which was to be collected with the exam (as all state material had to be returned. That was honestly their excuse.) The monkey was smoking and he was crying, saying, "Eyes... Burning..." The DMV rep was impressed that I had time draw the monkey. I told her I'd been waiting five minutes for her to return.
I finished first and my legs hurt from the steady compression of weight on bone for six hours. I called Stesha and avoided traffic on the way home. This is the abridged version of the Chinese Water Torture that is the DMV application process.
And I don't even think I want to work for the government... What if I don't get a paycheck?
Friday, March 05, 2004
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Tuesday, March 02, 2004
I saw a cigarette butt on the road at a stop sign as I turned the corner. The car before hadn't dropped it so maybe it was the one before that. It was smoking, there was no breeze and the evening felt like summer. Cigarette smoke is stale in summer heat and echoes like sound in canyons in streets lined in housing, tall enough to dull the horizon.
I wish the hills were torn down when they built the highway but it's surface area that counts, hilly land is still real estate, even if the worst choice of your life would be to live on the edge of a hill in rolly-poly San Francisco.
At the top, however simply requires perseverance and the willingness to stare, sweat and trudge nonstop up the steepest hill, well, maybe simply the tallest.
There's a monument at the geographic center of the city and, yes, a feeling of imminent vertigo and winds in the stillest of moments.
